#the only original thought they ever had was to switch from metal to meat

[thiscatiscreepy]

Fuck I actually kind of want to draw The Meat Robots from one (1) mechs fic I'm writing.

#like theyre so fucked up #both visually and as a 'society' #like they were programmed to do specific things and create more robots #but they're unable to think outside od what the previous failed society put into them #they have Cops with Bone Armor #they still have the mass-production meat plants but now for building more robots instead of eating the stuff #theyre literally decaying every second of their existence #the only original thought they ever had was to switch from metal to meat #their faces are arranged like those QR codes. for identification. but now out of different skins! #i also want to put a radiation burial site somewhere. with those huge fucking skipes. as a treat #cat talks #body horror

[neo-shitty]

all the muggle things. — c.s

description. in which you and san spent the rest of your days after hogwarts getting the muggle experience.

pairings. slytherin!choi san x gender-neutral (wizard) reader (yes, this fic is house friendly)

genre. harry potter/hogwarts!au, fluff

warnings. mentions of injury. 

word count. 1.6k

writer’s notes. i don’t know why i never thought of writing a harry potter-inspired au before! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for ateez. i hope this didn’t turn out so bad! 

inspired by option #1 (roommates au) + prompt #36 from this list (given by @kathyrncapp835​)+ prompt #46 from @ficscafe​‘s dialogue prompt event (given by @meaningfulmess​). prompt lines are bolded.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾  TERMINOLOGY GUIDE :: for the muggles, explained and simplified by yours truly

Muggle - someone who isn’t able to use magic / non-wizard

Lumos - spell that makes the tip of a wizard’s wand light up

Quidditch - a game for wizards that involves flying on brooms and shooting balls through hoops, basically basketball but more complex because there are three hoops and someone’s trying to catch an ‘i-am-speed’ ball that dictates the fate of the game in the end

Sectumsempra - a spell that lacerates the opponent

Wizarding War - the war between Voldemort’s side and Harry’s

Dark Mark - Voldermort’s mark

Nox - counter spell to Lumos that switches the wand’s light off

You tried your best to peer your eyes open when you heard the front door slam shut. You groaned, infuriated at how such simple tasks like breathing and opening your eyes required extra effort whenever you were sick. But getting sick was merely a consequence of your own actions, so you really didn’t have anyone else to blame but yourself.  

You managed to open one eye, fighting back the heavy eyelid that threatened to shut and you searched the room for other movements besides your own. 

“It’s 2AM, go back to sleep,” a voice said. Soon, it’s owner emerged from the shadows of the doorway.

Dressed in his all-black work uniform was San. His whole figure blended into the background too well that it almost seemed like he’d apparated back to your place. But with the faint sound of his footfalls, you concluded that he used the muggle way in.

You turned your head. You considered turning your whole body but everything felt sore and heavy. Plus, you were content with the way the comforter was wrapped around you—which was rare, even on better days. You watched San pass by the living room before heading to the kitchen. Though you couldn’t see him from the living room couch, you could see the shadow casted on the floorboards by the kitchen light he switched on. It danced as he moved around, probably to get a late night snack before heading to bed. You could hear him uttering hushed incantations followed by the faint clattering of kitchen metals.

“I’m glad you didn’t burn the house down while I was gone,” he said from the kitchen.

A smile crept up to your lips at his statement. You opened your mouth to utter a small thank you but you could only manage a whisper. You weren’t even sure if he even heard it from that far.

Moments later, he reappeared by the kitchen doorway. “But you were cutting it a bit too close though,” he continued, clutching a frying pan in his right hand. 

The pan—originally gray—was now blackened from the mishap earlier. You had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking your own dinner, only waking up to the smell of burnt meat. The scent had been that thick that it managed to seep through your clogged nostrils. It was that bad. You ended up ordering take out instead. You forgot that you didn’t clean up the evidence.

A croaky laugh escaped your lips as you recalled the accident. San only shook his head, disappearing back into the kitchen to put the pan back to the sink. When he came back, he had two cups in hand. He walked over to set both down on their respective coasters on the glass center table of your living room. When he reached over to turn the lights on you stopped him.

“Don’t turn the lights on,” you said, your voice barely audible but he hears it, stopping before the lamp fully on. “They’re too bright. It’ll give me another headache.”

You see his silhouette nod. You could hear him flipping his coat around, shuffling to find something. You didn’t know what he was searching for exactly and you opted to ask him. But you soon find out what it was when you hear him whisper.

“Lumos.”

Where San stood, an orb of light began to glow. You soon realized that the light came from the tip of a stick. He was holding the fir wand in his hand, controlling its brightness until it was just right. Soon, it illuminated the room with a faint light—bright enough for you to see outlines of the room and the furniture scattered but not bright enough to make your eyes water like the lamps did.

He walked over to where you were before leaving his hand outstretched. “Sit up to drink your leaf water,” he said, earning a chuckle from you.

“Leaf water,” you repeated in a hoarse voice before taking his hand in yours, clutching it as you helped yourself up. You crossed your legs, tucking each foot beneath the opposite leg in order to give room on the couch for San to sit. 

He handed you your cup of tea before he sat adjacent to you with his own cup in one hand and his wand in the other. Your eyes lingered on the wooden stick he gripped in his hand and on the fingers he had wrapped around it. All his rings were silver, representing the complementing color of his house, Slytherin. Or that was what you remembered of him back when you were still studying at Hogwarts.

You recalled when you used to watch him play Quidditch. He always kissed his rings first before putting on his gloves. He was deemed one of the more valuable players next to their seeker and you were just another student from another house. It wasn’t until your last school year at Hogwarts when you first interacted. The first time you both went beyond the occasional glances you shared whenever you were both in the same class. 

Though your first time meeting wasn’t the best setting for the start of something new.

You were tending to one injury after another, working with the school nurse to cater every student who ran to the infirmary for aid or additional support in the form of potions. San had walked in alone and upon catching sight of his green sigil, your first instinct was to cast a spell to disarm him. But he didn’t have his wand raised, nor did he show any indications that he was about to attack. Your guard was up; he was still a Slytherin and fighting for the opposing side.

But he was still a student of the school with a bleeding arm. The rip on his upper sleeve revealed enough of  his wound for your body to move on its own without much guidance. You led him to the nearest vacant bed, letting him standby until you got everything you needed from the cabinets. 

In the time you were treating the wound, you learned that it took him half the war and a Sectumsempra to the arm (which was originally aimed at his chest; thankfully he was able to dodge it—barely) to realize that he was fighting for the wrong side of the Wizarding War. He was glad he was going to sit out the rest of it and vowed to—and you quote—“Never do stupid shit again.”.

The Dark Mark was still tattooed on his arm, a permanent reminder of decisions that did more harm than good both to him and to the people around him. The tattoo faded over time as the population of evil wizards gradually decreased. 

Your brain was hot-wired to never trust a Slytherin. Or at least, it used to be. 

Much to your surprise, San did keep his words that night at the infirmary. He spent his years after Hogwarts atoning for all the damage he’d caused, dedicating nearly all his hours into hunting the last of the witches and wizards who still practiced the Dark Arts. 

San shifted beside you, leaning against the back of the couch before turning to look at you. He set his mug back down to its coaster before he pressed his palm against your forehead. 

“I’m feeling a bit better, don’t worry. I think I’ll be fine by morning.”

“I still don’t get why you let yourself be sick when you can just—” he flicked his wand, “—it away.” 

You set your own mug down after taking a sip, only noticing then that he pulled out the matching Hogwarts house coasters. His furrowed expression softened when you held his hand, peeling it off your forehead before sandwiching it between your cold ones.

“I’m trying to experience muggle living,” you answered. 

Slytherins normally weren’t the type who liked involving themselves with muggle things, more so with the muggle way of living. But San wasn’t always like other Slytherins. Cheesy, you thought. But it was a fact.

You held his stare when his eyes landed on yours. You knew his mind was brewing some sort of egoistic line or anything short yet clever to say. But you were faster.

“You did well today,” you told him, drawing random shapes and symbols on the back of his palm.

Even after hearing it everyday for the past few years, San’s heart still warmed upon hearing the words leave your lips. 

You said it the first time at the infirmary. At first, you were unsure if you were saying it to yourself as he heard you utter it after you patched him up. Later that day, you reassured him that it was meant for him. San, at the time, wasn’t too keen on accepting it. Nothing about what he did that day was worth the praise. But he soon realized you were referring to his decision to right his mistakes instead of staying ignorant.

You haven’t stopped saying it since then. The phrase became more of a part of your routine over time but it still held the same value as the first time you ever said it. You still smiled softly after saying it and you still looked at him fondly like you were genuinely proud of it. San was trained to easily catch  whenever people lied—be it in the form of speaking or in acting. But he never found any trace of ingenuity whenever it came to you. 

Somehow, that was enough to convince him that he could still make up for mistakes made in the past. It wasn’t too late yet. 

You catch the moment the corner of his lips curved up into a smile. One sly finger up, you were ready to—once again—poke the dimple on the side of his mouth.

He hated that. But if he were to be honest, he could never really hate anything you did. One ‘Nox’ and a flick of his wand later, the light on the tip of his wand disappeared—plunging the both of you into complete darkness before your finger could even touch his skin.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath, drawing your hand back and crossing them over your chest.

You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you could tell the smirk from his tone, “Of course you do.”

© neo-shitty, 2021

#san scenarios #san fluff #san blurbs #ficscafe dpe #ficscafe #san #kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #san x reader #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san imagines #ok g what else do i tag #toff.writes

[tealquacks]

They Share A Kitchen

An intrulogical (can be read as platonic) fic

Originally posted here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644

While the light and dark sides preferred to keep their distance from one another, they had to share some parts of Thomas’ mind. The imagination, for example, was split down the middle just like the two sides that ruled them, a mix of gnarled trees and fluffy clouds, unicorns and demogorgons, living in hostile harmony. They also had to share a living room, a few hallways, and the kitchen. Almost as if Thomas’ subconscious was trying to push the sides together. 

But the sharing didn’t bring them any closer, especially considering recent events. The “dark” sides avoided the “light” sides and Roman avoided everybody. All the shared spaces did was give Logan reasons to share more fun facts at the breakfast table.

“Studies show certain animals that inhabit areas close to human activity have begun to develop nocturnal tendencies in order to avoid said humans,” Logan had said one day over a bowl of dry cereal. 

“And what does that have to do with anything?” Virgil grumbled. Patton yawned.

Logan sighed. “I’ll answer your question with a question. Why do we always wait until eight am to get our breakfast?”

Virgil looked down into his coffee cup, and mumbled something. 

“What was that?”

“...To avoid Remus and Janus.” 

Logan had huffed triumphantly. Really, he found their little schedule fascinating. He made a little schedule on lined paper, marked out by half hours. He practically had their movements tracked down to the minute. Weeks worth of observation, neatly graphed out. It almost made Logan want to cry. 

Six am to seven am seemed to be the hours where Janus, the resident morning person, dragged Remus to the kitchen and got himself a cup of coffee and made himself breakfast, before making a hasty retreat to his room. Remus made breakfast after him, then left at around seven forty five am. Then the ‘light’ sides (minus Roman) claimed the kitchen from eight am to ten. Sometimes even to ten fifteen, depending on what Patton and Virgil made. 

Roman grabbed whatever leftovers there were at ten thirty. Afterwards, (around 11) Janus would emerge to get another cup of coffee and an early lunch, and Patton would get a cup of tea to drink and chat with him. Roman would slip into the kitchen at noon to get water or a snack, then right at twelve o’ eight, Remus would bolt into the kitchen, grab something to eat, then dash away before Patton could enter for another cup of tea at around twelve o’ twelve. At two, Virgil and Patton would sit in the kitchen and chat.

There were only two ‘dead zones’ Logan could find, where nobody visited the kitchen. Between two thirty and four, where everyone kept to themselves in their room until dinner (which Janus and Remus ate at four, himself, Virgil and Patton at five, Roman at around six if he remembered to eat), and from three am to five thirty am. Logan never had the chance to observe the kitchen that early in the morning— which is to say he never had an excuse to disrupt his sleep schedule. 

Even then, his curiosity plagued him. Virgil sometimes woke in the night to grab a midnight snack, but was he ever there at three thirty am? Some mornings there would be a pot left on the stove, or flour on the counters. Maybe it was Roman, trying to cook but only succeeding in making a mess. Or Janus? No, Janus always cleaned up after himself, it wasn’t him. Did Patton wake in the night to cook or bake…?

The logical thing to do was to ask if anyone went into the kitchen at those hours. The logical thing sounded like far much more trouble than simply staking out in the kitchen and waiting to see if someone came along, then ask them if their late night (early morning?) visits to the kitchen were a part of their routine. That would cut out any unnecessary conversation. Certainly it would be the best option— avoid any conversation that could possibly turn into an argument and distress Thomas, while also ridding himself of this curiosity. 

All of those events led to now. Logan sat on the couch, close enough to hear if anyone entered the kitchen, but obscured enough by the couch that he wouldn’t be seen. Not that that mattered, both the kitchen and the common area were pitch black. Not a single sliver of moonlight shone through the windows. He checked his watch. Two fifty-one. He’d been sitting there for an hour.

Logan briefly paused his train of thought. Why did he care so much? He wanted to complete his chart. Why did it matter to him? 

Logan sighed. The mystery person wouldn’t be here for at least another forty minutes. And that is assuming that they follow their schedule every single day. It made sense that there would be nobody in the kitchen. Every single metaphysical person was asleep. Except for him. 

Being thorough is important. What if he had missed something? Or this person's trips to the kitchen add a whole new variable to his chart? Who knows. He certainly didn’t, so he had to find out.

He checked his watch again. Three twenty am. Huh, overthinking truly was a great way to pass the time. Only fifteen minutes to go until the truth revealed itself to him in the form of one of his fellow sides stumbling into the kitchen. Maybe it would be Patton, taking sock-muffled steps into the kitchen on his way to bake, or Janus with a novel and a desire for a cup of tea. The possibility that simply nobody went to the kitchen between three thirty am to five am hung in the air. It didn’t make him any less curious. 

Footsteps. Heavy, thundering things in the kitchen. Logan jolted. Slowly he turned around to look into the kitchen, and found that the lack of light made his eyes useless. All he could see was a shadowy figure in front of the cupboards. He heard one open, then shut a minute and a half later. 

Logan watched the shifting darkness. Metal scratching metal—what the hell was that? He cringed at the harsh sound. More scraping noises. If he could feel anything, he’d classify the prickles running up his spine as fear, or anxiety, but since he certainly had no emotions, he chalked the sensation up to being cold. Even then, Logan flinched hard when the shadowy figure used a food processor. Three thirty five am.

More metallic scraping (sharpening a knife?) mingled with mindless humming. Maybe it was Roman, making himself food. He hadn’t eaten that day, so he would certainly be hungry. So certainly, if Logan were to turn on the light, he would see Roman in his Beauty and the Beast onesie. But then again, Roman was a shit cook. There wouldn’t be any scraping of knives or sounds of rustling in cupboards— maybe the rustling of a cereal box. 

Could it be Patton? No. Patton always loudly sang while cooking. Or maybe it was Patton, and he was just  being considerate of the other sleeping sides. How would he even confront the mystery chef? ‘Hey, not to sound weird but I’ve been keeping track of everyone’s kitchen time and I want to know if you do this every night. I have a chart. Yes, it is laminated, and color coded. Tell me about your schedule.’

Logan stared into the darkness of the kitchen unblinking. Rustling of… something, more chopping and scraping noises. Something sizzled, and Logan slowly breathed in. Oh, it smelled wonderful, rich and herbal… garlic, maybe. And onion. He checked his watch. Three thirty am, and he still had no clue who the hell was making food. What were they making? 

The fridge opened, and Logan could finally see. The cold light glinted off a long, sharp knife. Logan swallowed. There was a hunk of meat on the cutting board. Peering into the fridge was, well, someone, but when they turned their head, Logan could see the bright shock of white in their hair—

“Remus?” Logan exclaimed, bewildered.

Remus jumped and let out a panicked shriek. Logan stood up from his place at the couch, and blindly stumbled to the light switch. Remus flinched at the sudden light, and Logan just blinked as he took in the sight before him.

Sitting on the counter was a baking sheet with a raw rack of lamb perched upon it, covered in some sort of seasoning. On the stove sat a pot of golden broth that barely simmered, and the source of that delectable smell— a skillet of shallots and rice. Another pan of perfectly cooked mushrooms sat close by. Logan blinked.

“What is this?” Logan asked.

“Food,” Remus answered, “and I would’ve let you have some if you hadn’t scared the shit out of me, ‘figuratively’.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. Remus looked as disheveled as ever, even though he only wore a pair of boxers with little octopi on them. For once he wasn’t wearing his eyeshadow, and his hair looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. A grain of rice was caught in his moustache. What an odd thing to notice.

“I apologize for interrupting your cooking,” Logan deadpanned, “but if you would be more specific?”

Remus shoved the pan into the fridge, then picked up a bottle of white wine. He took a long swig out of it before pouring a bit into the pan with the rice. It sizzled loudly, and he started mixing vigorously.

“I’m making garlic and herb crusted roast lamb and mushroom risotto,” Remus said.

Logan blinked slowly.

“What?”

Remus looked up from his pan, a little smile on his face.

“Come on, Logan! You’re the smart one, you should know what a risotto is!”

Logan sat down at the kitchen table, staring dazedly at Remus. 

“I know what a risotto is,” Logan said, “a northern Italian dish made with rice and broth until it reaches a creamy consistency, sometimes made with white wine or butter. I didn���t know you knew how to make it, though.”

Remus added a bit of the simmering broth to the rice.

“Why not? I mean, gluttony, envy, greed, all those dirty little sins Thomas associates with me,” Remus said with a shoulder wiggle.

“Well—“

“Are you jealous of my skills? I know how to keep a man happy, Logan. Don’t you know? The fastest way to a man’s heart—“

“Is through his stomach.” An idiom Patton had taught him. Remus nodded rapidly.

“Yes, like gutting a deer! You carve open the stomach and poke through the diaphragm to cut the esophagus and pull everything out! And then you yank out the heart!” Remus cackled manically, pouring more broth into the pan and stirring. A bit of rice flew out. “It’s really tasty. Deer heart, I mean.”

Logan nodded, “And very nutritious. High in potassium and protein.”

 Remus nodded even more, his white streaked hair flopping into his eyes. Logan was still in shock over this whole thing. Who the hell knew Remus could cook? Certainly not him. Now came the hard part, talking.

“Did you know that sheep don’t have teeth in their upper front jaws? And that like, a bunch of sheep are gay!” Remus rambled.

“Do you do this every night?” Logan questioned.

“No,” Remus responded, “most of the time I cook in the buff— it’s freeing!”

“That’s… I mean. Uh. Do you cook every night,” Logan deadpanned.

Remus shrugged.

“On and off. Some days I do some days I don’t!”

Logan opened his mouth, then shut it. Remus, as far as he could tell, was every single bit of chaos Thomas had (that wasn’t already represented by Roman). As Remus himself had said, he was the opposite of rational thought. Remus added a little more broth to the rice, stirring quickly. 

“It’s my turn for questions— I have about seven,” Remus said. Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Remus started rattling his questions off.

“One, why’re you in the kitchen? I’ve never seen you up this late, not very logical of you.”

Logan shrugged, not sure what to say. Lying was Janus’ thing. So he straightened his tie, and said:

“Recently, I have been collecting data about the habits of the other sides, namely, when they use the kitchen. A pattern started to emerge, but there were gaps in my data, one of which exists because of the other sides waiting to make dinner, but the other gap I could not fill, nor could I simply ignore. I assumed everyone would be asleep—“

“—And you got me instead!” Remus chirped. “A pleasant surprise, isn’t it?”

Logan started at the knife laying on the counter. Next to it laid a sharpening steel. His wandering eyes landed on Remus’ back. So pale...

“...It’s certainly a surprise. Where did you—“

Something struck him right between the eyes before clattering to the ground. Logan blinked in shock, before realizing Remus had simply thrown a spoon at him.

“It’s my question time, whore!” Remus exclaimed. He summoned another spoon 

Logan nodded.

“My apologies,” Logan said, “go on?”

Remus’ brows furrowed, but he continued.

“Questions two, three, four, and six—“

“Six?”

“I’m going out of order. Question two: is Roman still a shit cook? Question three: why are you surprised? Four, how long were you sitting there, and six, do you want to eat with me?”

Logan’s eyes went wide as he tried to take in all the questions. Remus stirred in a little more broth, but he never took his eyes off of him. A little disconcerting, but in character for him.

“Well,” Logan started, “Roman is not the most skilled in cooking. His ideas are creative, but the execution tends to be subpar. While cooking he is easily distracted, which leads to burnt things. The food he summons is wonderful, though. However, this information may not be recent nor accurate because I have not seen Roman since the events after the wedding.”

“The events— you mean when Padre flipped out and turned into a frog? And Jannie told everyone his name, and Roman got princey pissed?

Logan nodded.

“Yes. But to answer question three as honestly as I can, I did not have any reason to believe you had any cooking skill, especially not of this level.”

Remus tilted his head. “Why so?”

“Because of what you represent to Thomas,” Logan explained, “all of his “bad” creativity. I had no reason to believe you could make anything good, let alone what smells like a finely made risotto.” 

Logan expected Remus to throw something at him again. Instead, Remus seemed surprisingly calm, looking down at his risotto. Logan straightened his tie again.

“Not only that,” he continued,” but also because Thomas does not possess cooking skills of this caliber.”

Remus chuckled.

“Thomas also does not possess knowledge of a lot of the shit you and Jan talk about. Like, philosophy and psychology and a whole lot of other stuff. Roman knows spanish! So who’s to say that I can’t cook? Besides, Thomas’ perception of me hasn’t done shit since the split, ya know? He has no power over me. He sees me as bad, yeah, and I don’t give a fuck. If you ask me, if Thomas let Janus take control instead of Prudey-Patton, we’d be sailing much much much smoother. But that’s only my opinion of course!”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think Janus would be a much better ‘morality’ than Patton. He has good opinions of the shit Thomas should be doing. And, he likes me! I’d say it to his face.  Patton’s face. Actually I might have? I’m not sure! I’m not sure…”

“I don’t think you have,” Logan said, “but it would be unwise for Janus to take Patton’s role, since Thomas is attached to Patton and the sudden shift would be detrimental to his mental and emotional health. Besides, I don’t think Janus could actually take his place, since he also acts as Thomas’ self preservation.”

 Remus rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Question four! Let’s go!”

“I was sitting on the couch for about an hour and forty four minutes. Before that I was in my room. I came out and sat on the couch at one fifty one, so I wouldn’t be tempted to go to bed.”

Remus whistled low. He let go of the spoon, which kept stirring the risotto even without his touch.

“Goddamn, that’s dedication. I can’t even sit still for half that time! What would you have done if nobody showed up?”

Logan looked awkwardly down at his hands. Honestly, he hadn't thought of what he would do. 

“Go back to my room and sleep,” Logan answered, “but stay up this late for at least a week in order to make sure I had proper data.”

Remus crossed his arms and leaned back against the stove. With one hand, he tapped his fingers to his thumb in a quick rhythm— index finger to thumb, middle finger to thumb, ring finger to thumb, pinkie to thumb, over and over again.

“It really must mean a lot to you. Which leads to question five!”

“I thought you said you were—“

“Going out of order? Well, I’m not! I’m unpredictable like that. Question five! Why does charting our schedules mean so much to you?”

Logan stared at the knife laid on the counter. For a split second, he considered standing up and leaving. Because how could he explain the reason he decided to chart their movements? There were so many, each one sillier and more trivial than the last, each one of them soaked in emotion, so much so there was no denying how he felt, and if the others found out they’d never ever listen to him ever ever again— 

But on the other hand he so desperately wanted to tell him, just to get the words out, so they’d stop pushing on him. Logan fiddled with his tie. 

Logan took a slow breath in.  On the counter laid the knife. Logan’s eyes flicked around the kitchen. Sharpening steel, cutting board, some leftover herbs, Remus, the streak of white in his hair. The air was cold, the floor was hard, the chair felt sturdy, and his tie was smooth. Sizzling of the pan, his own foot, tapping restlessly on the ground, Remus’ quiet humming. The air smelled like chicken stock and a bit of garlic. None of Remus’ usual reek, surprisingly. Logan moved his tongue around a little. His mouth tasted like spit. Nothing more, nothing less. He breathed out.

“I realized that all I do is pointless. Every plan and suggestion I give is ignored, or unwanted, unless I push and push… but even then, I’m not listened to. The chart is what I believe Janus would call a ‘coping mechanism’. I know this, too, is pointless, but knowing that I can complete this without any interruption, without any need for input from the others is comforting. It does nothing, and yet I’ve dedicated a good deal of time towards it.”

Remus stared at him, expression unreadable. That was until a bright, manic smile split his features, and he clapped his hands.

“So it’s like jacking off!” Remus exclaimed.

Logan made a face, looking at Remus with nothing but unbridled confusion.’The spoon in the risotto kept on stirring by itself.

“...And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well, it makes you feel phenomenal, it’s something you do for yourself, and it’s good for stress relief!”

Logan blinked slowly, then looked down at his lap, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“That is a good metaphor. Just like masturbation, this chart is, in the end, pointless.”

Remus snorted, and rolled his eyes. He sat down at the table next to Logan, and their knees bumped. Remus set both his elbows on the table.

“I don’t see how it’s pointless.” He said, “It’s something you’re doing to make yourself feel better because everyone else is shit. As you said, a coping mechanism. What makes it pointless?”

“It serves no purpose,” Logan deadpanned.

“Ya see, Logan, when you really, really think about it, everything is pointless!” Remus exclaimed. “Every meal we eat and person we see and every idea we have and every place we go and every happy moment is pointless, because in the end it’ll all go away! It’ll all be for nothing! Thomas will die and we’ll go with him, so everything is pointless!” 

Remus leaned closer. Their foreheads touched. How was Remus’ skin so warm? Logan swallowed, trying to push the tingling sensation in his chest down. Fear. It was fear. 

“Every single little thing is pointless!” Remus whispered intensely, “It’s true, you know it is, so don’t you agree?”

Logan looked him dead in the eyes.

“No, I don’t,” Logan said darkly, “Because while death is inevitable, Thomas’ life still matters. It might not matter cosmically, but his happiness and well being matter to me, and I will do everything in my power to give him a wonderful life, a life he can smile at even when he is close to death. So all those things you just said were meaningless? They matter more than anything. To Thomas, and to me.”

Remus smiled, wicked and sharp, waggling his eyebrows.

“So your chart isn’t pointless,” Remus said mischievously, “nothing you do is. As a part of Thomas, anything and everything you do matters. And if you say it doesn’t, then that makes you a hypocrite!”

Logan’s eye twitched. Ah, dammit, he just got played like a cheap kazoo by a guy who eats deodorant. 

“I guess you’re right.”

Remus dramatically leaned back, arms outstretched like a bird.

“I know!”

Logan sighed, hands in his lap. The risotto kept on stirring itself. Was it done? How long had it been? Logan looked at his watch. He couldn’t see, his vision clouded. He blinked. 

“I don’t know,” Logan said, “I’m Thomas’ logic I don’t know why he won’t listen to me anymore. Why none of them ever listen to me. I don’t feel like I belong among the sides even more. I’m a part of Thomas. It’s hard. I know I’m needed, but I don’t feel that way, and I can’t stop feeling. I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. Really, everything feels pointless, because none of my efforts yield anything of value.”

Remus pat his head.

“There there,” Remus said, “now about these feelings. Have you tried turning that big brain of yours off and on again?”

A chortle escaped Logan’s month. Then, a teardrop landed on his glasses. He ripped them off and slammed them on the table, taking deep, slow breaths to calm himself. They didn’t work, and dissolved into hiccuping, pathetic sobs.

“Oh boy,” Remus said. He didn’t move his hand from Logan’s head, gently stroking his hair like how one would pet a cat. Oddly enough, it was a little calming. Logan thought for a second of what the others would see. Remus, in only boxers, petting him as he cried. Remus made a few cooing noises.

“Why did I even tell you all this?” Logan whined, sniffling wetly.

Remus removed his hand. Logan heard him stand, then rustle around a bit.

“It’s like, four am,” Remus explained, “everyone is dumb as fuck at four am. Even you, Raisin Brain.”

“Raisin Brain?”

“A pun on the cereal and a reference to how scrunchy and smart your brain is, like. A raisin? It is also something that proves my point. But I get you, sometimes the thoughts just have to come out. Here, try some.”

Logan looked up from his hands to see Remus, offering him a spoon with some of the risotto on it. He’d mixed in the mushrooms. The risotto was as pale as his skin. Logan took the spoon from Remus, and put it in his mouth. His teary eyes went wide at the taste. The rice was cooked wonderfully, and he could taste the wine and chicken broth. The mushrooms in the dish added a wonderful earthiness,  and Logan forced himself to chew slowly, relishing every last flavor before swallowing.

Remus peered down at him anxiously, twiddling his moustache with the hand not holding the spoon.

“What do you think?” He asked. Logan wiped his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth to catch the last bit of the taste.

“It tastes wonderful, the wine and the mushroom… it’s a very well done dish, you should be proud of yourself.”

Remus clapped his hands, dropping the spoon and letting it clatter on the floor. He jumped up and down, hopping back over to the pan of risotto and taking it off the heat and letting it rest on the stove.

“Won’t it get cold?” Logan asked. He sniffled.

“Not unless I want it to,” Remus said, “and I don’t want it to! I’m serving it with the lamb, which I’m gonna roast. But it has to marinate for a while. Here, while we wait…”

He grabbed the bottle of white wine from the counter and sat at the table with Logan, offering the bottle to Logan. How long had it been since he’d had wine, or anything alcoholic? One week and three days. How long had it been since he’d had wine somewhere that wasn’t his bedroom? About a year and a half. He couldn’t risk being drunk in front of the others. Then they wouldn’t view him as serious and smart, just as a silly, drunken idiot—

None of those others were here. They were all asleep.

But what would Remus think? Would he care? He could hold this moment over his head for the rest of Thomas’ life, and he would no longer be able to keep him in check. He’d truly be useless, unnecessary.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Teach,” Remus said, brows furrowed, “I can get you some water instead?”

Logan nodded. Remus snapped his fingers, and the golden wine faded until it was clear. Logan hesitantly took the bottle, gingerly sipping. Yes, that was water. He couldn’t help but take a deep gulp, almost choking on the cold, wonderful water. He lowered the bottle. Logan furrowed his brows. 

“Wine to water? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?” Logan questioned.

Remus smirked, “I think my way is more fun. I still have more questions, if you’re game?”

“I’m not ‘game’. If I was, I’d be chess,” Logan said.

“I’d be strip poker!” Remus cackled, throwing his head back in glee. When he composed himself, he looked at Logan. “But that’s not what I mean. I mean. Okay! Question eight.”

Logan blinked. He put his glasses back on, sniffling pathetically.

“I thought you only had seven questions—“

“Question eight!” Remus proclaimed, “why are you so self conscious?”

Logan spluttered.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Uh. It’s like, four am, and you’re in your usual clothes. I’m in my boxers. It’s a little weird.”

Logan looked over Remus. Pale, a few small scars unique to him. The octopi boxers. 

“I prefer to remain clothed,” Logan said, “especially in places where I could be seen. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Remus snorted.

“Whatever, I’ll get an honest answer from you one day. Now, question seven and six— question seven! What should I cook tomorrow? Er, tomorrow at this time. Time is weird.”

Logan paused, sipping the water slowly. He could say some basic dish, and join him for that, or he could test the theories building in his head, test the limits of the chart by throwing a new variable into the schedule, that variable being Remus.

“Croissants!” Logan exclaimed. He took a deep breath. “Yes. Croissants. Homemade croissants.”

Remus’ brows shot up. He flicked his wrist, and a piece of worn looking paper appeared in his hand. He glanced at the paper, eyes going wide.

“Ah, fuck, this recipe takes like, twelve hours just to prepare the dough, holy shit! This’ll take all day—“

“If you begin the preparation at three thirty am, you’ll be done at four forty pm on the dot.”

Remus looked at Logan with a bright smile. There was still a grain of rice stuck in his mustache, as white as the streak in his hair. Logan blinked slowly, suddenly struck with the urge to say something was pointless so Remus would get closer, press their foreheads together and do… something. Remus flicked his wrist, and the recipe disappeared in a burst of smoke.

“Perfect!” Remus exclaimed, “Come around the kitchen then, tomorrow, I mean. And I’ll make you the Cwossaints.”

“Croissants,” Logan deadpanned. 

“Oh, keep talking French to me, honeycomb! Ah! But now, it is time for the last question, question six!” 

Remus struck a pose, and a pan flew out of the fridge and clattered onto the stove. Pale, polished bones stuck up— oh, the lamb. With a snap of Remus’ fingers, the pan suddenly burst into a plume of green flame, lapping at the walls and the ceiling, leaving no mark, as Remus’ destruction typically did. The rich smell of garlic and cooked meat filled the kitchen. Logan stared at Remus, unblinking. 

“Question six,” he repeated.

Remus made a face, but nodded and spoke. “Yeah, question six! Do you want to eat with me? The lamb and the risotto? I promise, it’s heavenly! And good company would make it even better!”

Logan stared at the stove. Alright. Pros and cons. It was four am, but he could still be logical, weigh his options. 

Pros: A good meal, conversation with someone who listened.

Cons: lack of sleep, another distraction, what if the others find out. 

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, standing from the table, and gingerly pushing his chair back, “but I really should be going back to sleep. It certainly smells wonderful, but I really must be going to bed.”

Remus crumpled a little, dropping the pose.

“Yeah, sure, whatever! I’m sure Jannie will eat it for breakfast. But you’re eating the cross-I-ants, or I’ll skin you.”

Logan nodded, and took a step backward. 

“I will.”

Remus stood, picking up the wine bottle and passing it to Logan. Logan took the bottle, filled with water, not the wine. He gave Remus a tight lipped smile, and walked to the stairs. Logan set his hand on the banister.

“Remus?”

“Yes?” 

Logan didn’t dare look at Remus.

“You have a grain of rice in your mustache.”

Remus cackled as Logan ascended the stairs, not looking behind him. It was as if he was a child again, running away from some sort of shadow monster that emerged only in the darkness. Running away, not from Remus, but from something. A lot of things. The water in the wine bottle sloshed.

Logan reached his room and flung the door open. His bed was perfectly made, indigo sheets pulled up nice and trim with no sign of being slept in. The lights were still on, bathing the room in clinical white light. His desk was covered in papers that he should’ve already looked over. A well loved indigo office chair sat in front of the desk. He set the wine bottle on his desk, and leaned over his chair. There was his chart. Almost reverently, he took a green marker, and, in the once empty space, wrote Remus’ name. 

There. It was done. He’d finished it. It was neat and tidy, and his. He exhaled slowly. Carefully, he undid his tie, then slipped off his shirt. After that, his shoes, then his jeans. He folded them neatly, and set them at the foot of his perfectly made bed. Sleep. Sleep sounded good. So did a lamb dinner. But there would be croissants, another excuse to sit at the kitchen table and be asked silly, harmless questions while studying the pale skin of Remus’ back.

Logan snapped his fingers to turn the lights off, and sat down in the office chair. Nice and comfortable. He relaxed, and took slow, deep breaths to take himself to sleep.

Each breath smelled like cooked lamb and wine.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #ts logan #ts remus #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #intrulogical #pinned

[tumbling-odyssey]

Games I played in 2020

Just felt like getting my thoughts out on all the games I played this year. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for years but I always let it pass me by. Well not this year! Fuck you laziness! 

I played the first half in 2019 but finished it in 2020 so I guess I'll count it. DQ11 was my intro to Dragon Quest and what a good starting point. I'm not exaggerating when I say this is one of the best traditional JRPGs on the market. Characters, story, combat, it all clicks in just the right way to make a flawless game... until the end credits roll that is. 

I have no idea what happened with the post game but by god does it dive off a cliff. It undermines everything you worked to do in the main plot. The characters act brain dead and it shamelessly reuses events from the main game. Please pick up and play DQ11 but for the love of god just stop when the credits roll.

Doom is a game I knew I'd like. The heavy metal ascetic and soundtrack were right up my alley, but I just never found the time. With Eternal on the way though and having found it on the cheap at a pawn shop I figured there was no time like the present. Needless to say but I was right. I loved everything about this game. The thrill of combat, the screech of the guitars, and the silent take no shit attitude of Doomguy. Make no mistake though, I SUCK at this game. I played on easy but still got my ass handed to me on the regular. But I don't care, I was having way to much fun.

I flipped my shit when this game got leaked at the tail end of 2019. Zero 3 is my all time favourite game. To celebrate this getting announced I went and 100% Zero 3 as I hadn't done it on my current cart, and Zero 3 was still the first thing I played when I got this collection! I love that game to death and I’m glad to have it on modern consoles again. As I was under a bit of time crunch with other games releasing soon I only played 2 other games in the collection Zero 4 and ZX Advent. Until the DS collection those and 3 were the only Zero/ZX games I had so I have a lot of nostalgia for them. 

Zero 4 hold ups better then I remember. Not as good as 3 but a damn solid game with tweaks I honestly wish hit the series before its end. I remember having issues with the stage design and ya it’s not perfect, but it’s far from as bad as I thought. For ZXA this was the first time I beat the game on normal difficulty. For some reason the ZX games have always given me more trouble than the Zero games, so finally beating one on normal was very exciting. Maybe I can now finally go and beat ZX for the first time...

The Mystery Dungeon series rising from the depth to punch all those unexpecting in the face was a very welcome surprise. I had a lot of hype going into this one as I have very fond memories of my time with Red Rescue Team and even more with Explorers of Darkness. And the game lived up to it! The remastered music is great and crazy nostalgic, the 3D models are well used and don't feel as stiff as they do in the core series, and the QOL changes are near perfect... So why did I drop this game like a rock once I finished the main quest? 

Anyone familiar with Mystery Dungeon will know that the post game is the real meat of it. The story is short and all the really cool shit comes in after it's done. But I just couldn't bring myself to put more time in after I finished said story mode. I'm definitely chocking that up to me just not being in the mood then an issue with the game. Here's hoping we get an Explorers DX sometime soon. That will fucking hook me for all it's got.

Second verse same as the first. I loved this game and sucked at it horribly. Out of all the games I've played this year Doom Eternal is the one I want to go back to the most. I was not the hugest fan of some of the changes made and retained a stance that I liked 2016 better. First person platforming has never been a fun experience in my opinion and Eternal did little to change that. And I know this a lukewarm take at best but fuck Marauders!. They are so unfun to fight and ruin the pace. The Marauder in the last mook wave took me so long I was worried I wouldn’t be able to finish the game. But the more I've seen of Eternal after my playthrough makes me think I was being far to harsh. I haven't played the DLC yet either. Mostly cuss I haven't heard great things about it. Gonna wait for the rest of it to come out to see if it's worth getting. Might just replay to whole game at that point to see if it clicks with me better.

This was my second favourite game of the year, and was going to take the top slot until a certain other game came out. Addressing the elephant in room right away, I hated the ending. But I was expecting something like that, I think we all were. I won't let the ending ruin the rest of the game though. Not gonna let 1 segment colour everything that came before it. We have to see how the later parts play out to truly see if this ending was trash or not anyway. 

It took Square over a decade but they finally got an action RPG battle system that works and feels good to play. This may be my favourite battle system in an RPG period honestly. All four characters are a blast and it only gets better the more time you spend with it. Figuring out the nuances of each character’s skills and how to combine them not only with the skills of the others but how to enhance them with the right Materia set. This makes fights thrilling and satisfying when you finally best whatever was giving you trouble. Tis was the best way to bring 7′s mechanics into the modern landscape while also fixing the BIGGEST issue the OG had. The fact every character feels the same aside from Limit Breaks. 

All this on top of graphics that just look fucking stunning, a few glitched out doors aside. Fuck I still feel blown away looking at the characters models (mostly Tifa) and see how god damn pretty everyone is. Also Tifa’s Chinese dress is gift from the Gods and I still haven’t picked my jaw up from the floor after I first saw it.

In my circle of the internet there was a lot of hype for this game. So much so that I ended up buying it to see what all the hubbub was about. I had never played a Streets of Rage game before and my only experience with beat'em ups was playing a LOT of Scott Pilgrim and last year's River City Girls. Turns out Streets of Rage plays quite a bit different and it kicked my ass! So sadly I had to switch to easy to make it through but I still had a fun time with it. 

I started playing mostly as Blaze but once Adam hit the scene oooooh fucking boy. I didn’t play anyone else. There's a deceptive amount of content in this game. You can unlock almost every character from the previous games and all of them rocking their original sprites and moves. If I had more of a connection with this series I'm sure I would have gone nuts on unlocking everything. I stopped after my one playthrough and I was happy with that. Always glad to support a long overdue franchise revival.

To properly talk about P5R I think I need to air a lot of my feelings on the original game and the importance it has to me. You see, prior to 2017 I barely played games, only sticking to specific franchises. AKA Pokemon and Mega Man/Mega Man like games. Until 2016 though I still bought a lot of games. Eating up Steam sales and deals I found at pawn shops. This lead to a Steam library and shelf filled with games I've never touched outside of maybe an hour or 2. So in 2016 when I took interest in the newly released Kirby Planet Robobot I made a deal with myself. I could get the game but I HAD to beat it.  And I did just that, gaining not just a new fav Kirby game but a new rule for game purchases. If I knew I wouldn't beat a game I was not aloud to buy it. Now what does ANY of this have to do with P5 you may ask? Well... almost everything.

 I was immediately interested in P5 when it hit the west in 2017. I loved the 20 or so hours I but into P3 years ago and really liked the P4 anime I had watched around the same time. So of course with all the hype around it I wanted to dive into the series full force with P5. But I knew myself. Putting over 100 hours into a game was beyond me and I had a weird relationship with home console games as I was predominately a handheld gamer. Add in the fact I didn't even have a PS4 and I was convinced P5 would be something I always wanted to play, but never would. So when I went to the mall with a few friends and they showed me that P5 had a PS3 version, I had a dilemma on my hands. I knew I wanted to play it and I now had a way to do so. But doing that would require me to change 2 HUGE hang ups I had with games. Would I being willing to waste 60 bucks with so much working against me? Apparently I was. I immediately started going to town on this game. Making sure I spent no less then 2 hours a day playing NO MATTER WHAT. Which may not seem like a lot but it was to me... at the time.. I also had just moved to my current house, so coming home from my still relatively new job and going straight into P5 was the first real routine I formed during this heavily transitional part of my life. 

I of course ended up loving P5 and put 200 hours into it. As such my outlook on gaming was forever changed. Console games were no longer out of reach and I knew I could handle playing monster length game. I started playing way more games then I ever did before and trying out generas I never thought I would play. P5 is the main reason for this and why I'm able to make a post like this. To actually touch on Royal though? It's unarguably the better version of the game and Atlus learned all the right lessons from P4G. The new characters are great and the added section at the end is possibly the best shit Atlus has ever written. I only wish Yoshizawa joined the party sooner so I could play as her more. 

The release of this really came out of nowhere huh? Wayforward announced it was being made mid way through 2019, then there was its weird half release on the Apple store... and then suddenly it was out! Very little fanfare for this one. Is that indicative of the games quality? Luckily no. Seven Sirens is a solid addition to the series and follows up Half Genies Hero nicely. The game goes back to Shantae's Metroidvania roots and makes a TON of improvements. 

Transformations are now instant instead of having to dance for them (don't worry dancing is still in the game) making the game feel more like Pirates Curse in its fast flow. They also added the Monster Cards which take heavy inspiration from Aria of Sorrow's Soul system. A feature I'm happy to see in any Metroidvania since Aria is one of my all time favourite games. Sadly though the game does not take the best advantage of these improvements. 

Over all the game feels kinda empty. The dungeons aren't super exciting to explore nor are they challenging in any way. And the plot is very repetitive, with each dungeon repeating the same beats. Really this game feels more like set up for a better game down the line. The mechanics are all here and Wayforward has a solid art style with the sprites from Half Genie Hero. Hopefully they capitalizes on this for Shantae 6 and we get the best game in the series.

While it may not have been the most thrilling game, Seven Sirens really put me into a Shantae mood. So much so that I went back to play the 2 games in the series I had never touched. This being the first game and Risky's Revenge. Shantae 1 really is a hidden gem in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, it's the definition of jank, but there's a lot of heart to this game. The sprites are great, the soundtrack is good, and the characters are funny... but it's still on the OG Gameboy and that's a massive hindrance for any game. I'm hard pressed to recommend this with how poorly its aged but I think it's better then it looks. 

Risky's Revenge on the other hand was a game that shocked me by how little it had to offer. I know this game went through a hellish development and what we got was far from what Wayforward planned to make, but it's hard to imagine a world where this was the technical BEST Shantae game. It's not a bad game by any stretch... just a boring one.

For the record my ranking of the games goes Pirates Curse>Half Genie Hero>Seven Sirens>Original>Risky’s Revenge

Sword and Shield are mediocre games at best. I know, real steaming hot take there. I managed to make my Sword playthrough a lot more fun by not spoiling myself on the new Pokemon designs for the first time since Gen 3. Either way, I enjoyed myself enough that I didn't mind playing more of it with these DLC campaigns. Plus I love the idea of Game Freak switching over to this method as apposed to making a third version, so I wanted to support it. 

Klara is a fucking top tier Poke Girl both in design and personality and is probably the highlight of Isle of Armour. GF actually went out of their way to give her multiple expressions to sell her toxic bitch personality and I love every minute of it. She sadly drifts into the background for the second half of the DLC’s story which hurts an already rough section even more. Not more then having to grind Kubfuu all the way to fucking level 70 though! That put a serious hamper on my motivation to finish the story but I pushed through anyway. Having to solo the tower with Kubfuu was at least a fun challenge though, as was the final fight with Mustard. Fuck the Diglett hunt though. Ain’t no one got time for that.

Crown Tundra may be my fav of the 2 though even if there isn't a character as good as Klara in it. The hunt for the legendaries was just pure adventure and I had a fucking blast doing it. The joy I felt when I figured out Registeel’s puzzle put a smile on my face unlike any Pokemon game since I was a kid. The whole Regi stuff was honestly a nice Nostalgia trip to my times with Emerald. The story around Calyrex was enjoyable, even if I still hate its design. Not revealing the horses before release was a good call to as it gave an honest surprise. Having to chase down the Galar forme Birds in the overworld is a great way to evolve the roaming legendaries idea and I hope GF sticks to this. Plus the Galar forme birds are some of the best legendary designs since Gen 5 and I love Chocodos way to fucking much. 

Here we are folks, my GotY. I love Panzer Paladin so fucking much. A combination of mechanics from Mega Man, Castlevania, and Blaster Master? Sign me the fuck up! This game is tailored made for me and I knew I had to play it once it started making the rounds on social media. I'll admit though, I was a bit worried when the the first full trailer dropped and showed the weapon mechanics. Breakable weapons that you have to sacrifice for checkpoints and power ups? I'm not sure about that.... Luckily I was being a complete moron and those mechanics are near perfect. 

I love the set up of each boss being a mythological creature from different cultures. They didn’t just pull the easy ones either. A lot of these things I learned of for the first time here. I love how Grit controls. Using the upward stab as a double jump and being able to pogo off enemies Shovel Knight style just felt great and satisfying. Flame was limited but it made her sections feel tense. She does more damage then you think she could at first glance. Also the only way to heal Grit being to use pods that only Flame could access was a cool idea. 

I am begging you Tribute Games, you have to make more Panzer Paladin games. Slap some new upgrades on Grit and expand what Flame can do and you have an even better sequel  on your hands. Also maybe not have so many 'gotcha' moments with enemy placement. That's really my only complaint about the game. Great music, great sprites, giant robots, unique premise, and a reference to Canadian legends. The ultimate self indulgent game for me.

It felt super out of left field for Curse of the Moon to be getting a sequel. The games fucking amazing but it was really just a tie in for the main Bloodstained product. Not something I expect to get a continuation. Either way I was pumped. If this was even half as good as the original then I was in for a great time. Which held true... cuss this legitimately is only half as good as Curse of the Moon. I still like the game, quite a lot actually. I mean how could I not with a fucking Corgi piloting a Death Train Mech. 

Something was just missing here that never made this click like the first game. Maybe it was the stage design, maybe the bosses, maybe the fact that it's a bit to long. I'm not sure. All I know is I couldn't bring myself to play all the modes like I did in the original. . Stopping part way in to the one where you can get the first games characters. I want to go back some day... I just don’t know when someday is.

This was an announcement I never saw coming. A Gundam Verses game coming to the west? That hasn't happened in the entire time I've been a Gundam fan. I had played a bit of Full Boost on my old roommates PS3 thanks to him having a Japanese account and I played Force on the Vita a few years ago. But to have the latest version fully translated with open servers? Holy hell that's a dream come true. 

Having the open betas every weekend leading up to launch was some much needed fun during this shit hole year. I had a lot of fun just fucking around with different suits and seeing what I could do with 'em. Absolutely trashing two Bael players as the Kapool is a memory I'll keep with me for a long time. Fucking danced on their graves. This gave me some new appreciation for suits like the Baund Doc and Hambrabi, the later becoming a lowkey fav as it was my main.

I've fallen off with the game in the last few months but I definitely want to go back. I hope to start learning the game and take parts in tourneys when cons aren’t death sentences anymore.

It felt like everything in my life was SCREAMING at me to start the Yakuza series. From 2 of my friends playing 0 recently, a youtuber I following live tweeting as he played through the WHOLE series back-to-back, and Yakuza 2 having a run at AGDQ 2020. Plus the constant pleas to play this series you get from following Little Kuriboh on Twitter. I finally broke and picked up 0 in the middle of August. Boooooooooy howdy did I not know what I was getting in to. And no I don't mean the content. I knew Yakuza was a series of wildly conflicting tones between the main story and side quests. What I mean is the length. I legit thought this was gonna be a 20-30 hour game. When i reached hour 30 of my playthrough and realized I wasn't even close to a conclusion, I think I knew I had bitten off more then I was planning. That misstep aside I ended up loving this game and want to play the rest of the series.... I just need to rest up first before I dive into Kiwami 1.

 Let's actually talk about the game for a moment here. Kiryu and Majima quickly clicked as likeable characters to me and I cared about their stories. Combat is fun and the multiple styles are all great.... though both the default styles take a while to get there. The mad rush I felt at the end was fantastic and the last bosses are a joy to fight. Only real complaint is the pacing of the side stories. I loved being able to just stumble into various different events while on route to the next plot objective. But this became less common as the game went on and side stories started getting more tucked away. Also hot take here, the host club mingame is more tedious then fun and I like Kiryu’s business stuff as I could do that in the background. I’m excited to dive into Kiwami and probably Kiwami 2 this year... Though I’m not sure when just yet.

Just gonna say it flat out, I think this is better the the 2018 game. The smaller scale helps in this style of game and Miles just naturally has a better move set then Peter. I'm not sure if they actually tightened up the combat system or if they just threw less bullshit enemies at you but fighting feels so much better in this one. Traversal is better too,  simply because they changed the button for tricks. In the original you have to hold down 2 face buttons to enter trick mode??? In hindsight that was such a bad call. 

Having both the heal and venom powers run off the same meter was a good idea. Making the choice between keeping yourself alive guaranteed or potentially ending a fight quicker/disposing of a problem enemy is super fun. The player having to make small choices like this during combat is what helps it not be brainless. I love all the different venom skills you get. While they all achieve the same thing in stunning opponents, how you achieve that goal is up to you. Do you want to just slug the bastard, throw 'em up in the air, tackle the shit out of them? The choice is yours. 

Only real big complaint is certain upgrades being NG+ locked. I know you want to encourage replays, but this is a shitty way to do it I feel. Also can we retire Rhino for the next game. Man has had 2 shitty boss fights now and I need a break. Between this and Spider-Verse, I'm honestly starting to like Miles as Spider-Man more then Peter.

I got this game more on a whim then anything. I was definitely interested when it was first announced for the west. Vanillaware's beautiful art style in a story about giant robots beating the shit out of Kaijus? Sign me the fuck uuuuuu-oh wait it's an RTS? I had never played an RTS's before, mainly due to the sheer concept stressing me out. So I let it fall to the wayside. The game started coming up again though towards the end of the year with GotY on everyone's minds.  This revived my interest, especially as what I HAD planned to be playing around that time was... well. Cyberpunk. Don't think I need to say much more. Also I had worried for nothing as the Real Time Strategy was not that Real Time. 

This game really lays on the analysis paralysis once you're out of the tutorial. Do you want to fight, do you want to do story, who's story do you want to do, what branch should you follow, how much should you play with this one character? It's very overwhelming at first. I decided to not go ham on just one character and swap around all the time. The twists in this game are equal parts exciting and infuriating. Learning something new always came with the caveat of more questions, or something you knew 'for sure' being disproven. Like when I learned 1 characters was actually 4 separate ones! Anyone that's played knows exactly what I'm talking about. 

Natsuno ended up being my fav and not just because of.... obvious reasons. BJ was cute if unfortunately named and her relationship with Mirua was my favourite in the game. Not that there was much competition except for maybe Ogata and Tomi. I ended up really liking the combat but I can see why RTS fans say it's the weakest part. It's far from complex and I had a winning strat by the third or so real fight. Aka spam turrets and have the Gen 1′s gank all the bosses.

One quick thing I want to share was how I beat the boss at the end of Area 2. The one where Inaba is singing. I had Hijiyama use the limit break skill to bum rush the boss right off the hop. I took out half its health in one hit but Hijiyama’s Sentinel was on death’s door. Only thing that saved him was sending in Amaguchi to blow up a bunch of missiles. Hijiyama took it out on his next attack but lost his Sentinel at the same time. It was a real clutch victory and crazy fucking anime. 

The best way to really describe Carrion is that it's a fantastic proof of concept. Can you make a game where you play as The Thing? Why yes, yes you can. Carrion just needed a bit more tweaking to really bring this concept home and be the A+ game I know it can be. As it is now the game is a bit empty. The level design is super samey and the lack of a map is fucking brutal at points. I know it would make no sense for a blob monster to have a map but somethings you just have to gameify for convenience. The level design must have done something right as even though I was completely lost I still moved from area to area properly. Hell by the time I actually looked up a map I had 1 more item to get and I learned I was one door away from beating the game. 

I love the idea of losing mass as you take damage and gaining more by eating people, but having abilities tied to size was a terrible idea. It just leads to tedium as I have to go and shed myself to the right size, do the puzzle, then of course I'm going to go back and rebuild myself to see if I can do the next segment at full power. Just make it so you can swap between abilities using the d-pad or something. I hope this game gets a sequel just so this sick ass concept can be fully realized.

#games #goty #Final Fantasy #pokemon #spiderman #yakuza #gundam #bloodstained #panzer paladin #shantae #persona #streets of rage #doom #mega man #dragon quest #13 sentinels: aegis rim #carrion

[saintheartwing]

The Promised Neverland, S2, Episode 9

So...the episode begins with Emma confronting Norman about how he clearly isn’t actually into his whole extinction plan. And she absolutely refuses to let him play God. Especially when he obviously doesn’t want to. He’s an arrogant coward, and its time for him to share the burden with his friends. 

Ray calls him out too and says that he’s choosing a path where he suffers alone and Norman says its far too late, but Emma holds out a hand and says “Let’s Grow Up Together”. Norman basically breaks down on the spot and drops his weapon and just starts sobbing into Emma’s shoulder, crying how he wants to live together with them. But he doesn’t have long to live...the drugs he took at Lambda hurt him bad. He hasn’t long to live...

Then we get some action...or at least the promise of it, a mutated demon races at them as Sonju shows up to try and save the kids whilst the old man demon’s still bleeding profusely. Sonju, nonchalantly, cuts his arm off. And wa wowwww, the animation for the demon swallowing that tossed arm is bad. Like...it’s clearly a chop job. Mouth open, mouth shut and a CHOMP sound. Nothing in between. Did they blow all the budget on the shitty demons from the forest? 

But anyway, it works. The mutated demon collapses and ta daaaaa. He’s back to normal. Mujika passes around her blood in a cup to a demon woman, explaining things’ll be fine. Just give it to everyone and you  needn’t worry.

The old man speaks up. Oh! You know the Evil-Blooded Girl, huh? She was alive all this time? And then-

OH FOR-

They REUSE shots from the LAST EPISODE to show off the crying demon kids and suffering families. Moving on. We cut to Barbara who’s having...issues. Her expression makes it clear she’s not doing so well. But then she sees a demon girl who’s...holding a demon baby. And the demon girl’s beginning to mutate. Barbara, you might remember...likes to kill and eat demons because turnabout is fair play. 

She’s got her big metal spiked baseball bat raised but then the demon girl curled up triggers a flashback to when SHE was in that exact position and saying the same sort of thing. She can’t do it. She can’t bring herself to kill the demon girl. And that’s when she has a breakdown. She’s having a seizure. Zazie looks like HE’S gonna finish the job, he leaps up to kill the girl but then Norman intervenes. 

He NARROWLY misses impaling the poor kid as the three turn to see Norman and Emma. He apologizes to the three and says that he was wrong. He’s suffering just like them. They’re surprised. They thought he was excluded from the testing. But nope. He lied to them to be the boss they needed and tried to stick to the cold path he’d been on before Emma stopped him for that same reason. He also wanted to develop a cure but...well, the people who might have been able to cure them are all dead at that facility so...they’re fucked, looks like.

Vincent is super furious. He yells angrily...while still having his mask on. Why? Why hasn’t he taken it off? Are they just cutting animation corners? Well, the other three just go along with it, they’re fine as long as the boss is okay with all this as Mujika and Sonju come by to explain they’ve put an end to the mutating. They’re gonna explain to the townsfolk how to keep from mutating anymore and how their blood works and it’ll be fine. 

Then as our heroes are returning back to their base, we find out, evidently, that our gang intercepted a transmission. The kids back at Grace Field like Phil are gonna be shipped out! Uh oh!

Buuuut...it’s not really true. See, Peter Ratri has come up with a plan. He explains to a demon in a private meeting with GRANDMA Isabelle that they figured out the radio from the shelter they raided was missing. The kids have been interceping their transmissions so they put out a fake transmission. They’ll have the kids think that all the kids are being shipped out. NATURALLY they’ll all rush back to save their dear friends...

And the Lambda Project? It’s all about boosting children’s brain power with high level drugs. So much so to the point that mass production farms might not even be really needed save for the common folk. 

We cut back to our pals, who are discussing the whole “being shipped out all at once” thing. Norman brings up the Lambda project, reasoning that they’re shipping the Grace Field kids out early to switch to Lambda. He thought destroying the original facility would have stopped it but evidently not. Naturally, our heroes HAVE to try and save them, even if it IS a trap! But the question is...how to get in? 

Well...Mujika and Sonju have shown up. They want to chip in. The Old Man and his granddaughter have come in too. His name is Vylk. He’s somebody who got her blood AAAGES ago and he survived all this time...and he’s got a gift for Emma.

A part of a pen. Yeah, one of THOSE pens, the special pens that will reveal hidden locations and the like that the kids have used before that show coordinates and all kinds of info. Vylk says he got that piece from a human who had collapsed and was dying in the forest. He was severely injured and soon to die, and he gave the pen piece to the old man demon. Who also ate him and shared the meat with his family. Doing this, however, made the old man feel guilty. It was the first time he had EVER seen a human outside of a jar or being dead and on a stick or the like. Realizing they had a will, they had real feelings like him made him disgusted with himself and with the concept of eating human meat. He was ashamed of himself for his inaction too, but was afraid that if he used the blood he had in him to “cure” the demons around of needing to eat meat, his family would be targeted and tracked down and killed the same way Mujika’s family was. 

Emma puts the pen piece in and...guess what? It’s the blueprint of the farm headquarters. It’s EVERYTHING they would conveniently need! Including where the gate to the human world is! AND on top of that...there’s a spot in the blueprints that shows off drugs...and this means maybe...they might be able to live after all. 

Vylk is about to leave but Norman tries to apologize first before he goes. But it’s Demon Emma who speaks up. She says she knows how horribly demons treated humans. She’s very sorry. Seeing this touches Norman and the others, and then grandpa says it’s time Emma and he be on their way.

“Emma?!” Ray and the others are surprised. Oh, wow, she’s got the same name as the demon kid, huh? Well, ain’t that a coinky-dink. UUGGGH. Not subtle at all. But I already brought this point up last time so...moving on. Off to Grace Field House!

Buuuuut...it isn’t that simple. Somebody’s calling up Grace Field to make a deal. SOMEONE IS A TRAITOR!

And it’s Vincent. 

Soooo yeaaah...not...it’s not good. This season’s really not good. Underwhelming to such a ludicrous degree. VERY Disappointing compared to what the manga gave us. I’m only still watching just to see how it could possibly end.

#the promised neverland #season 2 #episode 9 #spoilers #anime #manga #Norman #Emma #Ray #demons

[betawithablog]

Headcanons for the greek gods as omegas?

(I assume you mean as Omegaverse and not for them all to be Omegas cus there’s no way Ares is Omega lol)

This is gonna be the 12(.5) Olympians and the royal couple of the underworld

Zeus: Alpha, a very obvious Alpha. Leader of the Olympian pack. If we're going with the personality he has in the myths then he's the kind of douchebag Alpha who thinks it's his right to go around knotting whoever he fancies; I imagine his pheromones are pretty powerful too. Like, send-you-into-an-surprise-heat kind of powerful. If we're going with how the ancient Greeks actually saw Zeus though he's the absolute best provider. Big dad vibes towards everyone who's even a little bit younger than him (which... y’know, given that he's a god is almost everyone).

Hera: Omega. The kind of Omega that has a dominant, leader's streak; the kind born to be the leader's mate. She has that Omega's need for love and attention (which Zeus really needs to work on giving her smh) and likes to pamper her body (see: pool that she bathes in every night that somehow magically makes her not a virgin anymore... yeah idk either, blame the ancient Greeks). She does, however, lack a natural maternal instinct (see: yeeting baby Hephaestus off of mt. Olympus), so I feel like she could potentially also be a Beta.

Poseidon: Alpha. Originally he was actually the leader of the Olympian pack (no that's not a headcanon - the Macedonians actually considered Poseidon to be the head of the Olympians). I imagine him to be a kind of rugged-looking Alpha - like an strong old fisherman with rough palms and speckled grey hair - with an air of calm and control that can switch to chaotic and aggressive in an instant's notice - like the ocean itself.

Hestia: Omega. Absolutely 100% Omega. The kind of Omega who's very presence makes you feel soothed, her hugs are warm and soft (not just because she always wears fluffy cardigans), her nest is absolute perfection - beautiful, calming to be in, and cosy - and she's always got something divine (if you'll excuse the pun) in the oven. Always purring kin the kitchen. Absolute biggest mama vibes. She smells like a bakery; chocolate and pastry. Holy shit I love Hestia.

Demeter: Alpha. Considered her, perhaps, as an Omega on account of her being a fertility agriculture goddess but she just doesn't strike me as the placating, gentle type. Quite the opposite. She fought stubbornly for her daughter to remain at her side, and she's the goddess of law too - she's not the rolling-over-showing-her-neck type at all. I picture her as an absolute Unit; muscles for days from all the years harvesting crops. The no-nonsense kind of Alpha.

Aphrodite: Omega. The hypersexual kind of Omega. I believe I've seen them called 'Pack Omegas' - the type that do best when they're in a relationship with lots of people, practically (or literally) a whole pack. Also the beauty-obsessed kind of Omega. Takes ten hours to get her clothes, hair, and makeup done yet somehow she turns the whole process into a mesmerising dance. She turns everything into a mesmerising dance. Another I imagine with knock-out strong pheromones that have Alphas falling to their knees for her. She smells like roses.

Athena: Alpha. Another leader-type Alpha - literally has Athens named after her, and she's very proud of her people... despite some of the absolute nonsense she's had to witness from them throughout the ancient years. A very adept and skilled fighter and strategist - likes to know everything about a situation before rushing in. She's an incredibly supportive and wise lead Alpha, the kind that the pack feels they can go to with whatever problem they might have. I feel like she could also easily be a Beta, but she's got such a strong sense of being dominant and in charge it's hard to see her as anything but an Alpha.

Ares: Alpha. Less of a leader-type Alpha, lbr, more of a team player. The kind of Alpha that runs into things without thinking, relying on instinct and, on the battlefield, pure rage. Your average Aggressive Type Alpha who's ready to kill for anyone in his pack. Can come across as a bit of a meat head... and can be a bit of a meat head at times... Yet I imagine him as a really loving, doting mate, which initially surprises a lot of people; seeing this big burly 6ft< Alpha who smells like fire and blood smiling dopily as picks out the perfect dainty jewellery for Aphrodite.

Hephaestus: Beta. My poor poor bastard boy. Very crafty and creative (see: trapping his mother in a beautiful trick throne he built as revenge for yeeting him off the mountain as a baby). Likes to think his creations through and plan genius contraptions. He could very easily also be an Alpha, what with the fact he's a blacksmith, which is a rather Alpha job. But I guess I lean towards Beta because, even though he's a bit of a social outcast on account of his leg and general appearance, he's clearly desperate to be more socially involved with the pack and doesn't want to be a lone wolf.

Artemis: Alpha. Surprisingly nonsexual for an Alpha. Very much a lone wolf. Loves spending her days out in the forest. You wouldn't think she's an Alpha to look at her, but she'd surprise you with how strong she is. Also very good at using her opponent's strength against them. Because of her build, she's considered the protector of Omegas; most Omegas would feel very safe in her presence. She's got this mysterious edge to her that just uncontrollably draws you in... like the moon.

Apollo: Omega. Ah, sweet darling disaster bisexual... I just imagine him being very soft and sensitive (not that he can't kick ass on a battlefield, see: his involvement in the battles of the Iliad). He has an artist's soul and an angel's voice. His serenades are totally his courting gifts. I imagine him revelling in being doted on, and always eager for fuss and attention. He has a beautiful Omegan frame, and he loves decorating himself in luxurious garb and crowns of flowers and leaves. He smells like laurel and somehow also sunshine. No one knows how this is possible but he does.

Hermes: Beta. And nooo I'm not just saying that because he's my favourite and that's the dynamic I best identify with (>_>) He really is such a Beta though. I've a headcanon that Beta's love travelling and exploring and he's literally the God of that so y'know. He's also so quick thinking and witty: represented himself in a what was basically a godly court case where he was guilty of thievery and won when he was literally a baby. He's hardly ever submissive to anyone but he hardly ever uses aggression or physical force to get his way/get out of trouble. He smells like ripe strawberries and the metallic tinge of coins.

Dionysus: Beta. The eccentric, outgoing, party type Beta; wants to be surrounded by friends having a good time all the time. He smells like booze; in the morning it's a little off-putting, but in the evening its literally intoxicating. I imagine his mortal Maenads needing only his scent to drive them into a frenzy. Not the kind of Beta you'd expect to also have the Supportive Beta streak, but he absolutely does; he lives to support his friends and gives the kind of advice you don't realise is advice at first and later hits you like an epiphany, and it was exactly what you needed to hear.

Persephone: Beta. Difficult one, but I had to go with Beta because she strikes me as a very gentle, delicate goddess of spring that could easily have her classified as Omega, but in winter she's the no-nonsense, dominant queen of the underworld that could have her classified as an Alpha. Overall, I think this shows her adaptability, which is a very Beta trait. Also, she's not really as needy and dependent as an Omega traditionally is. Things might have happened to her beyond her control, but she very much took back control and has both Hades and Demeter wrapped around her little finger. Of course, she smells like pomegranates, and spring blossom.

Hades: Omega. I have such a soft spot for soft!Hades. But he's kind of the reverse of Artemis in that you would not think to look at him that he's an Omega, you'd assume he's an Alpha, especially considering his position as ruler of the underworld. But he's a softy at heart, and adores material possessions (which I consider a bit of an Omegan trait). He mopes all the way through spring and summer at the lack of Persephone's presence, cooped up in his nest the whole time until autumn rolls around and she comes back into his life. He has a very earthy scent.

bonus:

Hermaphrodite: All three! Thought I'd include Hermaphrodite because they flashed through my mind and I wondered what might be classified as intersex in a/b/o. Of course, that depends on how you hc biology for the dynamics but I thought what would perhaps make Hermaphrodite an outcast/outlier could be their body, scent, and instincts being a mix of all three dynamics.

thanks for the ask 💞

#omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega #oemgaverse dynamics #a/b/o dynamics #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse headcanons #a/b/o headcanons #alpha/beta/omega headcanons #greek mythology #greek gods and goddesses #omegaverse theoi #a/b/o theoi #omegaverse greek gods #a/b/o greek gods #long post #ask #anonymous #mine #does hermes know i would take a bullet for him?? #probably actually. he'd probably let me take the bullet as he sipped a juice box

[hero-philia]

I know, I know that I had promised to work on your requests next. BUT an emergency appeared, which got the spot as my top priority!

Lovely Lily from @sparkncharge had a rough Christmas time and as a fellow BNHA fangirl, writer and fan of her blog, I felt the need to cheer her up a little :3

I hope that this spontaneous piece will have this effect for you, Lily!

-----

Cocoon of Feathers | A Hawks x Reader Scenario

-----

Ever since the calendar had revealed its last page, you had been jumping around from A to B. One day you were out buying presents for your loved ones only to be busy decoration your apartment the next day.

As Christmas was coming closer your head was basically filled with deadlines that had piled up to a whole to-do-list.

Christmas cards? - Sent!

Presents? - Wrapped!

Groceries? - Bought!

Date? - December 24th!

Because you had promised your family to take a visit on Christmas Day and had made plans with your friends for the day after, today would be the one and only opportunity to spend time with your boyfriend.

Everything went according to your schedule when you entered the kitchen approximately two hours before his arrival.

First, you had been rather insecure about cooking a turkey for Christmas dinner with him for ... obvious ethical reasons.

Wouldn't that be considered cannibalism?

Yet, he had told you with the brightest smile that he would eat everything. Even if they once had been of his kind.

You proceeded with chopping the vegetables, filling the turkey as well as putting it in the oven. In between you managed to answer the usual Christmas calls or nowadays messages from different people.

"Thanks, I wish you and your family a merry christmas, too. Enjoy the holidays!"

Five more minutes for the turkey, then you would only have to prepare the sauce to be finished.

From afar you heard the doorbell, but you didn't bother to get rid off your apron. With quick steps you answered the door to be met by a familiar smirk.

"Hey Keigo! You are early," you exclaimed while throwing a glance directed at the kitchen every few seconds.

The special visitor stepped in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. At least he had your total attention afterwards.

He went on with his sass, "It's hot in here! That must be you. Or is it me?"

Like you had been hit by realization, your eyes widened as your brain made a quick announcement for the feet to run. Keigo sighed at your rumbling disappearance.

"NEITHER OF IT. IT'S THE FOOD!"

Without waiting for an invitation, he crashed on the sofa in the living room. His big wings might only disturb you during your cooking process.

Not that he wouldn't love to see your pouting face.

Thanks to the non-existent door between the two rooms, he could hear every single one of your footsteps. And they sped up.

In the kitchen you were watching the sauce while getting the turkey out of the oven. Next you sprinted to the phone to ask whoever was calling to try it again later.

At some point from placing the hot meat on the counter and answering the phone, the sauce went wild and overboiled.

You whisked it like crazy to save it, the other hand had reached for a wet cloth to clean up the mess.

Somehow trying to control the situation for four people with two hands, you ignored the phone that had started ringing in the background. But in your imagination it got louder and louder.

When the sauce was close to overboiling again, you just reached for the pot to take it off the stove without a second thought.

Without the idea that it might be hot.

As soon as your fingers had lifted the metallic pot, they started hurting due to the heat. Before your mind reacted properly, you already let go of it.

Originally Keigo had been busy with checking his phone to be up-to-date with the latest hero gossip.

That was until he heard the horrendously loud shattering from the kitchen. Something most definitely had fallen down and he raced to the scene within two seconds.

What he saw there could be described as chaos:

Sauce was spilled all over the floor, even staining the cupboards. Some smoke rose from the still hot stove as the stains there were burning. The cloth had somehow landed on the turkey.

All of that was accompanied by the nauseous sound of the still ringing phone.

And in the middle of it - There was you.

After starring at the mess for a while, not moving at all, you finally looked up. Your glassy eyes met his.

"I hate Christmas," you resigned before hiding your face behind your reddened hands.

Hawks stepped over the pot, ignored the fact that his sock was now soaked with sauce and caught you in his arms. From that moment on, he could feel the sobs shacking your body.

With one hand he brushed your hair while pulling you closer to his chest.

"That's not true." He said. "You are just a little stressed, sweetie."

In the meantime he looked around the kitchen to analyze the situation that must seem like a total catastrophe in your eyes. Well, he found at least some things rather funny.

"It's only a cloth on the turkey. We can fix that," he chuckled.

But you weren't nearly as amused as he was. The tears streamed out of your eyes as your breathing got faster and faster.

"Right. There is A CLOTH on THE TURKEY and SAUCE everywhere on THE FLOOR. It smells like I'm BURNING my kitchen instead of making dinner. And -"

You let out another sob.

"If that stupid phone doesn't stop ringing RIGHT NOW, I'm going to personally THROW A KNIFE AT IT!"

What followed sounded like a pity excuse of an attempt to catch your breath.

Hawks could hear and feel how you pushed yourself more to hyperventilating by the second. No matter how steady he rubbed your back.

"How about chilling on the couch instead of throwing knifes today, sweetheart?"

For the second time he didn't wait for an answer from your trembling figure in his arms. Step by step he guided you out of the kitchen, placing you between the cushions.

Then he ran back to switch off the stove and the oven. If something wasn't good to happen, it would be your kitchen catching fire.

Back by your side, his fingers were struggling to open the knots that you had made to secure the apron around your neck.

Every brush of those fingers sent a shiver down your spine as you were trying to take a deep breath. In the end you let out a series of coughs, that only increased Hawk's urge to take the pain away from you.

Way too long he had watched you during your Christmas preparations, but had never stepped in when you had looked drained with dark bags under your eyes and pale skin.

A joke now and then to lighten the mood, to cheer you up, he hadn't done more than this.

Today you were shaking in his embrace, sobbing your eyes out, most likely thinking the worst of yourself.

No one had ever considered him as someone with extraordinary listening or advice skills. Seeing you like this made him even forget about his usual humourous side.

So he did what would normally work best in situations that seemed like the world was eager to crush you.

He opened his wings, spread them to their maximum and wrapped them around the two of you. A little bit of light made it through the feathers, nothing else besides oxygen.

In your eyes this felt like a dream. These red walls were shielding you from everything that might plan to aim for you.

No Christmas dinner that had been ruined.

No relatives who would talk to you for an unnecessary eternity.

No to-do-list or schedules which you had to take care of.

Just you, Keigo and the silence surrounding you.

Slowly your eyes felt heavy as they had shed too many tears to continue crying. Your head was rested at his chest, which gave you the opportunity to calm your breath by following his rhythm.

Before you could help it, you were drifting off into a deep slumber. A rest that your body had been in desperate need of for days, maybe even weeks.

No matter how limp your body got, your boyfriend continued rubbing your back or alternatively playing with a streak of your hair.

A few of his surprisingly rare words reached your ear as you fell asleep:

"I'm here, angel. And you can always count on me."

-----

Posted: December 25th | Requests: Open | Match-ups: Closed

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha scenario #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagine #bnha writing #bnha oneshot #bnha x reader #bnha hawks #bnha takami keigo #takami keigo #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #COMFORT FOR SOULS IN NEED #IT'S OKAY TO HAVE BAD DAYS!! #EAT SLEEP AND RELAX PROPERLY #SOPHIE IN MOM MODE TM

[txladyj-blog]

This Time Around - Chapter 1

This is posted with permission from @xmistressmistrustx, the amazing writer who helped me bring a story I had in my head into the world.   She’s been an inspiration and has become a dear friend, one I hope to meet in person someday.

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​ by request of @txladyj-blog​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 23/?

Screaming. High-pitched, desperate screaming, piercing the air and echoing all around, bouncing off the trees like rubber balls, ricocheting and growing louder with every thud of her boots on the dry, cracked ground. Or, was that her imagination? Her heartbeat thrummed in her head as she sucked in breaths to try and propel herself forwards, her chest burning with every gasp and her feet aching after each rapid step. She scolded herself for every single excuse she’d thought up to stop herself from going to the gym, or for a jog, or to the tennis courts. She really wished she wasn’t so inclined to sitting inside and gaming or reading. If she’d known she’d need such stamina to save herself from the jaws of another human being, she’d have jumped on a treadmill occasionally.

Twigs broke under her boots as branches snapped at her sweat covered face but still, she pushed on, further into the woods, away from the screaming. The snarling grew quiet as the inferno in her lungs grew hotter, her breathing became labored and she stumbled, her hands shooting out and grabbing at a nearby tree. Bark and dirt filled her mouth and obscured her view. She blinked, only to find her vision blurred by mud. It took a few precious seconds for her to realize that she’d fallen before she quickly hauled her body upright and carried on along her jagged path through the woods.

She thought there had to have been at least ten people behind her when she had flown off into the tree line from the highway, all terrified with eyes bulging and hearts hammering. Now, her surroundings had fallen quiet and it occurred to her that she was wandering alone in the thick darkness, meandering between trees with no weapons or idea where she was headed. She stopped in her tracks, leaning against the trunk of a tree and trying to catch her breath. Her ears strained to hear the slightest sounds around her so she could sprint off at any hint of danger. Her hands found the straps of her back pack, tugging it from her shoulder and swinging it around to her front. Inside, she selected a torch and quickly flicked the switch. A bright, beam of light shot through the velvet dark, illuminating her surroundings and proving that she was now alone. She swallowed hard and gradually edged around the trunk, shining the torch between the surrounding trees and listening, above the sound of her own breathing for the slightest snap of a twig of a distant groan.

She was walking the highway after being unable to drive any further. The city saw thousands upon thousands of people flee when the chaos hit and spread like wildfire. She watched from a distant hill as the roads filled up with panicked, angry refugees that were offering each other money and all manner of expensive and luxury items for passage out of the highly populated area that had fast become a death trap.

After losing her companion shortly after fleeing into the woods, she was forced to shake off the shock of what she had witnessed. Her best friends throat ripped out in a split second, a river of crimson blood flooding over his bright, white clothing, the contrast somehow making the horrendous scene even more macabre. With no time to cry, no breaks in which to grieve, she raced off with blurry eyes into the night with her friend’s assailant hot on her heels, snarling and snapping its jaws until the sound was gradually replaced by the terrified screams of others, dotted about in the trees around her.

She kept walking until her heels ached and her knees grew weary and her stomach grumbled so loudly, she wrapped her hands around it to muffle the sound. Knowing she had to get some rest, she chose the sturdiest looking tree she could find and began to climb, her hands gripping the harsh bark and heaving her weary body up the structure until she was perched on a thick branch that was wider than her own body. She settled against the trunk. The contents of her backpack dug into her spine but she cared little for anything except being able to rest someplace that meant she wasn’t about to be consumed by what once was somebody’s son or daughter, somebody’s husband or wife. Now, just a ravenous, monstrous shell of what they were.

When she awoke, light shone through the trees, a slither hitting her face and heating up one cheek. She blinked and shook her head before leaning over the edge of the branch and checking it was clear to climb down. Finding nothing, she was soon ambling back over the leafy ground in search of some semblance of shelter.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Carol watched as her young daughter gently plucked at the fabric of her doll. Such delicate fingers poised over the cloth face of an effigy she’d become attached to ever since she was a baby. She was a quiet child, even more so since they’d arrived at the camp. She’d seen things no one of her age should have, the same things that other children across the world had now seen. Not to mention the violence she’d witnessed before the turn. Violence at the hands of her own father. Carol’s heart hurt for her and not only the memories she would have to carry, but the new, even more brutal things she was unavoidably going to have to endure in her bleak and uncertain future.

Her dirty blonde hair glistened in the sun and her skin, still so young and flawless, had yet to display the pallid gray that some of the others had. Her freckles were still noticeable and each one reminded Carol of the times when she’d cradle the girl in her arms, counting the subtle dots across her nose and smiling to herself.

“Mom?” Sophia squeaked from the waters edge.

The quarry boasted a deep, teal body of water that provided the camp with a means to wash clothes, bodies and was a much-needed source of drinking water once boiled of its impurities. The blazing sunshine, intense temperatures and picturesque view from the top made it the ideal place to set up and stay for a while and most of the camps population had no designs on moving anywhere.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Carol cooed back.

“There’s a woman up there.”

The small girls tiny finger extended, pointing out a lone figure stood, buckled over at the top of the quarry. A red backpack was hanging from the woman’s shoulders and she used the front of her black T-shirt to wipe sweat from her forehead, exposing a pale stomach. Carol squinted and slowly got to her feet, shielding her eyes from the sun in order to gain a better view. Her brow furrowed and her heart began to race in her chest.

“Shane!” She suddenly shouted, her voice thrown around the quarry and traveling up the hill to the main camp. “Come on, Sophia. Come with me. We have to go and get Shane.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

She had been at the camp for three days before she summoned up the courage to talk to anyone. An introvert by nature and traumatized by her experience, she chose to retreat into her tent and sleep while others went about their daily tasks. She ate alone, sat alone and read her books alone. Carol was the woman that first approached her at the top of the quarry, flanked by a group of four men. She didn’t remember the names of any of them at the time, only Carol’s as she backed away like a frightened deer. Coaxed along to the camp on the promise of food and a tent, she hadn’t breathed a word then and still hadn’t as she sat, hugging her legs and peering up at everyone on the third evening.

She flinched when a man crouched down in front of her and offered her a square, metal camping bowl of food. She didn’t care what it was, her stomach protested loudly at its emptiness and she slowly took the bowl from his hands. Carol had been the one to make sure she ate, it was always Carol. Nice, non-threatening, motherly Carol. Now, it was this man with his sunken eyes, dark, military haircut and thin lips.

“How you doin’?” The man asked.

She half shrugged, not able to manage much more for fear of having to get into a conversation.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Shane. Over there…” He pointed to a man dressed in a sheriff’s uniform. “…That’s Rick. Then ya got T-Dog next to him and then Glenn. That’s just some of us. You’ve been pretty quiet; just thought I’d let you know who people are. You need anything, just ask anyone, OK?”

She nodded a thanks and leaned forwards, taking a small sniff of her food. Some kind of meat stew, laden with herbs. It was the most amazing thing to grace her nostrils in four days.

“You got a name?” Shane asked.

“J-Jess.” She uttered through chapped, cracked lips.

“Well, Jess. I know you’re scared n’ all. We all are. But you’re safe here.” He assured her.

“OK. T-Thank you.” She stammered, picking up a spoon from the bowl and beginning to stir her food.

When Shane left her, she hungrily demolished the stew and picked up her journal from beside her. She knew she’d soon run out of ink for her pen and resigned herself to the fact that she would at some point, need to ask someone to fetch her a new one from one of the supply runs they seemed to frequently go on. As she scribbled, jeering from the other side of the camp caught her attention and she glanced up to see two more men emerge from the trees, one was carrying a crossbow, his sleeveless arms shiny in the light as he approached the glow of the fire with a string of squirrels hoisted over his shoulder. He wore a leather vest and his expression was sour, despite the cheering and jokes being cracked by his companion. The other man was visibly older, bald  and also wore a leather vest, he swung a dead opossum by his side as he walked, soon throwing down in front of the fire with a dusty thud and laughing.

“What would y’all do without us, huh?!” He cried with a voice louder than any of the others Jess had heard so far. From his body language and his attitude, she could tell this one was going to be trouble.

Jess saw Shane get to his feet and whisper to the man to keep the noise down, but he was met with nothing but a snarl. The man with the squirrels was already stalking over in the direction of Jess’s tent, suddenly veering off and slamming the dead animals onto a makeshift table and propping his crossbow against the structure at his feet.

“Merle, get ya ugly ass over here. I’ma get to skinnin’ these.” He announced.

Jess retreated back into her tent in an attempt to stay out of the sightline of both men, judging them both to be the kind of people she would have steered well clear of before she found herself running through the woods for her life.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

In the time it had taken for Carol to persuade Jess to emerge from her tent and meet some of the others, her presence at the camp was now being noticed by just about everyone. She had briefly conversed with the younger members of the group; Carl, who was Rick and Lori’s son and Sophia, Carol and Ed’s daughter. Children were altogether less intimidating and energy draining than adults could be to Jess, especially in such a setting, where noise and rigorous activity needed to be kept to a minimum, as were the rules.

There were two other girls of Jess’s age which she deliberately steered clear of without hesitation, Sarah and Jodie. Initially met with outwardly false smiles and raised eyebrows, the transparency of the two females that peered back at her was evident and enough to make sure she knew her place was not with them. Her history with female friends not being one to shout about, other women never seemed to take to her due to her obscure and nerdy interests and quiet nature. Constantly a source of ridicule at high schools she'd attended, she kept herself to herself and spent her free time at comic book stores and conventions with her handful of close, male friends she would undoubtedly make eventually. All of which were now dead.

The loud man from the previous night, whose name she had learned was Merle, had already proved that her suspicions about him being trouble were correct. Jess always knew to trust her gut; it hadn’t let her down yet. Walking past her as she hurried along behind Carol, he slowly looked her up and down, running his tongue along his bottom lip and rubbing his chin. Beside him, was the other man in the leather vest, his younger brother; Daryl.

“Ain't she a meaty one? Lil’ more cushin’ for the pushin’, huh, Daryl?” He sneered.

His brother merely glanced up and caught Jess’s eye as she passed, his blue irises flashing before her. She had never seen such icy blue eyes before.

“Shut up, Merle” She heard him mutter in response.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Since arriving at the camp, Jess hadn’t seen any of the dead ones. She figured she’d wandered so far up the mountain, that hardly anyone alive, let alone dead would be likely to follow her. She noticed that they had coined the name ‘Walkers’ by those around her and felt safe in the knowledge that no one had seen one enter the camp for weeks due to the surrounding makeshift alarms comprised of tin cans and other noisy materials. Whispers around the campfire had indicated that the city was full of them and they were now starting to run out of food and disperse into the surrounding areas.

Sat in her usual spot just inside her tent, she jotted down what she thought was the date at the top of the next page of her journal, although she couldn’t be sure if it was correct or not. Giggling in the distance caused her to look up, where she clocked the unmistakable sight of Sarah and Jodie making fun of her from across the clearing. Jess couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow in disgust at the typical nature of their body language. Hands deliberately blocking mouths as they spoke, eyes intermittently locking on her and childish giggling that she expected from the likes of Sophia or Carl, but not from two women in their twenties. She shook her head and sighed, turning her attention back to finishing the date on the page when her eyes lowered further, to the extra flesh around her middle, her thicker thighs than the other girls, even her fingers. Bigger, softer. She flattened her hand on the page and sighed. Then, screaming rang out across the camp.

Everyone seemed to move simultaneously, grabbing at everything that could be used as a weapon. Jess froze to the spot until she saw Carol making her way towards the children with several others and whisking them away. Curiosity fueled her to move and find out how high the threat was, knowing she needed to keep a safe distance but still get close enough to see what the fuss was about.

Just inside the tree line, Dale, owner of the groups RV and resident, straw hat lookout was busy beating the hell out of a single Walker with Rick and some of the others with blunt objects, bats and even a broom. Jess looked on in disbelief at the Walker that had eventually fallen to the floor and quietened, beside it, lay a deer with an arrow in its rear end and a myriad of bite marks taken out of its side. The small huddle of people exchanged glances, their chests all rising and falling.

“Never seen them this far up the mountain before” Dale commented.

“Well, they’re running out of food in the city” Carol remarked to the cluster of concerned and sweaty faces.

“Son of a bitch!” Came another, angry voice from further back. “That’s my deer!”

Daryl emerged from the bushes, crossbow in hand, sweat beaded on his chest and forehead, yet more dead squirrels thrown over his shoulder and ripped the crossbow bolt from the deer’s rump with one swift movement.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearin’, motherless, poxy, bastard!”

With each new word, his boot collided with the Walkers body on the floor, Jess sidestepped slightly to gain herself a better view of him in his entirety through the bushes.

“Calm down, Son. That’s not helping” Dale scolded.

“And what do you know ‘bout it, ol’ man?! Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘on golden pond’? I been trackin’ this deer for miles!”

As he finished his sentence, the Walker at his feet began to writhe and gnash its jaws. Jess felt her throat constrict at the thought of it not being dead and wondered just how the hell they were meant to be stopped if gunfire emitted too much noise.

“Oh my god” Glenn groaned as he resumed beating the corpse with a stick.

“C’mon, people! What the hell?!” Daryl exclaimed as he aimed at the Walkers head with his crossbow and pulled the trigger. A neon bolt embedded in its skull and instantly, the threat was eliminated. “It’s gotta be the brain. Don’t y’all know nothin’?”

Retrieving his bolt from between the Walkers eyes, he huffed and threw everyone an exasperated look. Before she could even think, Jess found herself face to face with him as he stormed through the brush, unexpectedly running into her. She quickly stepped back and tried to drop her gaze, but his stare was so intense that she found herself rooted to the spot while he paused to take in the view of her. She swallowed hard and finally managed to step aside and let him pass. When he did so without a word, she almost tried to blink the shock from her eyes as she turned on her heels and made her way back to her tent.

That night she braved sitting around the campfire with everyone else at dinner, although she sat further back than the rest. Nibbling on strips of squirrel, Jess didn’t follow any conversations that were taking place. Opposite her, sat even further back than her in the shadows, was Daryl, who had just finished up licking excess meat from his fingers and was now watching her over the flames, his arms draped over his bent legs. She was aware that his attention was firmly fixed on her and grew increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Why was he looking at her like that? Why was he looking at her at all?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

After another two days, Jess was still finding it hard to settle in amongst the masses at the camp. Only speaking briefly to a handful of people, she decided that Carol was the easiest person to converse with, except Rick, who never seemed to give her a choice but to answer when he asked after her welfare. Her days were spent reading, writing or tagging along with Carol by the water and helping with the laundry. Her knowledge of certain historical periods meant she knew how to wash clothes without the aid of a washer dryer and was able to lend a hand in getting through the huge piles of dirty clothes that appeared in the crate at the start of each day.

Carol wasn’t shy about encouraging Jess to learn new skills and on one particular occasion, caused a great deal of anxiety when she handed her a knife and a pile of dead squirrels and told her to start skinning them. Before Jess could protest or express her ignorance on such a subject, Carol had vanished from sight, summoned by her aggressive and overbearing husband, Ed. Her hand shook as she looked down at her fingers clutching the knife, Daryl’s presence on a rock behind her niggling away in her mind. If anyone knew how to skin squirrels, it would be him. She turned her body slightly so as to block his view and began prodding one of the small animals with the sharp end of the knife.

Daryl, able to see over her shoulder from his higher vantage point, furrowed his brow and threw his smoke away. He climbed down from the rock and approached her.

“Kinda shit show is that? Give it here.” He snapped, reaching for her knife. She stilled, wide eyed and tried to focus on what she should say.

She slowly looked sideways at him with the squirrel in her hand. She still gripped the knife and he beckoned with his fingers for her to pass it to him along with the dead animal. She gingerly handed him him both and stepped aside, letting him take up her spot. Before he set to work, he noticed her discomfort and awkward expression.

“She uh-she left before I could tell her I have no idea what I’m doing.” She said quickly.  

He grunted and turned his head to see Carol with Ed, whose voice was raised and echoing around the quarry. Shane stood nearby, arms crossed, keeping a very close eye on the arguing couple. Ed’s arms were flailing in the air as Carol stood meekly in front of him. Daryl bit his bottom lip for a second and decided to leave them to it, getting involved in other people’s drama wasn’t something he made a habit of. He turned his attention back to Jess.

“What exactly do ya do around here?” He asked her.

It was a good question and one she didn’t have much of an answer to. Since she’d arrived, she slinked about in the shadows, folding her collectible superhero T-shirts that she happened to have bought on the day the world went awry and scribbling in her journal. She’d only recently started to lend a hand with the laundry but other than that, she could honestly say she’d been nothing but a leech.

“Um… I got a pretty loud scream. It’s like a…Walker alarm. Just haven’t used it yet.” She said with a small smile.

He huffed, unimpressed and figured she would be even more useless unless he showed her what to do with the knife and the squirrel.

“Pay attention.” He mumbled, motioning to the animal with the knife. “Gotta start right here, cut up to the tailbone”

As he spoke, he physically showed her what to do, pointing out each part and showing her exactly how to angle the knife in the process. Jess winced at the sound of the knife slicing through the flesh and tried to act as though the blood didn’t bother her. But she was never a good liar and her stomach flipped at the sight. Her face paled and she took a deep breath.

“Then, down each leg. Gotta make a flap of skin on each. Can grab it and yank it right off, cut as ya go.” He explained, focused on his task and missing Jess’s pained expression. He ripped the skin from the animal and tossed it aside before holding the bloodied knife out to her and finally noticing her pallid skin and sweaty forehead.

“R-right.” She stammered, slowly taking the knife from him.

“Practice. Make ya self useful.” He said, his tone now less antagonistic and more akin to someone with a helpful suggestion.

“Right. Yeah.” She mumbled, taking the knife back and dragging the back of her wrist across her forehead.

Relief washed over her when he finally departed, leaving her to her task. While it took her probably double the time it would have taken Daryl, she eventually finished it and cleaned up with a sense of pride and accomplishment welling in her chest.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

'I'm not entirely sure I’ll ever fit in with this group. I know I don’t really fit in anywhere else either, but no matter how hard I try, I always seem to get left behind. Since I’ve been here, I’ve been thinking a lot about mom and dad and my asshole brother who I miss so much. Seeing people that still have their families, I hope they know how lucky they are. I know I never really fit in with them either, but they were my blood.

It’s a miracle I survived on my own, I see that even more now I’m around people with actual survival skills. There are fighters, hunters, people that are good with weapons, even people that think more strategically than me. I feel kind of useless. I’m slower and a liability compared to these people. A guy called Daryl had to teach me how to skin a squirrel today. I almost hurled on the table in front of him and I felt like an idiot at first but at least he took the time to show me instead of making fun of me. If I’m honest, I was really expecting the latter.'  

She closed the journal. Shoved it back in her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then, she picked up the bunch of skinned squirrels and made her way to the top of the hill. The heat from the sun was starting to lessen and she was grateful for it, she wasn’t used to building up much of a sweat, so her new surroundings up in the sky, a top a mountain had been a shock to the system. People wandered about the camp and children played quietly as the fire in the middle started to intensify, ready to provide warmth from the sudden cold snap that came as soon as the sun vanished below the horizon.

Jess spotted Merle on the outskirts of the group. He sat with a tree stump in front of him and a large knife, dissecting meat and driving it onto skewers for cooking. Jess took a deep breath and made tracks towards him, passing the RV in the process, where Daryl sat on the roof, watching her. She kept her head up when passing Sarah and Jodie, Sarah brushing through her blonde hair with her fingers as they ambled along.

“Better get in quick before she eats every scrap. Girl definitely isn’t starving.” Jodie whispered to her friend.

The comment hit Jess’s chest like a bulldozer but outwardly, her reaction was minimal. She carried on walking and handed the squirrels to Merle wordlessly before turning on her heel and stalked off back to her tent. She could hear Merle chuckle to himself behind her but paid him no mind. He wasn’t the one that could stamp on her feelings so easily. It was other girls. Always other girls.

Daryl was noisily chewing on some beef jerky when he heard Jodie’s scathing comment and saw Jess hesitate as she walked, her head dropping and her shoulders slumping. Sarah and Jodie rounded the RV on their random path and as Daryl looked down at them, his eyes fell on a cup of water set down on the roof of the RV, near to the edge. The temptation proved too great to ignore. Dale must have left it there. Convenient. He kicked the cup, sending water flying over the edge and onto the heads of the two girls below.

“Hey! Watch it, Redneck!” Sarah shrieked as she flicked her hands out, ridding herself of any water droplets. Jodie merely stood there and seethed, her jaw clamped shut and her eyes narrowed up at Daryl. Her sweater was splattered with a dark and no doubt, cold stain.

“Sorry” He smirked.

Rudely awoken by a cooking pot being thrown against the side of her tent just before sunrise, Jess startled and considered herself lucky the foreign object that had collided with the canvas had missed her head by inches. She crawled out of her sleeping bag and poked her head out of the zipper to the sounds of Merle and T-dog shouting obscenities to each other and brawling in the middle of the clearing. Curse words were yelled and a plethora of racist remarks left Merle’s mouth as he swung another punch in T-dogs direction. Jess winced at the sound of some of his comments and thought herself grateful she’d been brought up in an accepting and open-minded family and didn’t have to endure the seething hatred Merle seemed to feel every time he set eyes on someone that didn’t share his skin color.

The two men wrestled on the ground, dust kicking up and clouding their air as more and more people filtered out from their tents to observe the spectacle. Jess could hear the moment T-dog’s fist collided with Merles face, a kind of sickening thud followed by a loud grunt and a roar as Merle launched himself up and ran at his assailant. Bowls and utensils flew through the air as they thundered through a nearby table and took out the peg of a tent in the process. The shelter sagged and Jess felt a stab of panic as they neared her. She stepped back in an attempt to put some space between her and the fight as Daryl shot out of nowhere and drove himself between them, taking a hard right hook from Merle that made Jess jump with the loud crack that it made. But Daryl simply emitted a loud grunt and shook it off and she suspected that this was far from the first time he’d been punched in the face.

“Back up! C’mon! Back up, Man!” He instructed, hovering in front of his brother with his hands on his chest. Shane arrived seconds later, just in time to catch T-Dog and pull his hands behind his back in true cop style. Jess raised an eyebrow.

So much drama. She thought.

“Leave it. Just leave it. What the hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl was now hissing at Merle, who was desperately trying to skirt around him. But wherever Merle was, Daryl was firmly in front of him. “Let it go, Merle.”

She bit her lip as she witnessed Daryl manage to de-escalate his brothers rage and she knew that no one else in the entire group would have been able to handle him in quite the same way. His leather vest flapped at his sides in response to him shifting all of his weight into his muscular arms in order to hold his brother still. With one leg placed in front of the other, he leaned forwards, a stable grip on each of Merle’s shoulders. Shane was busy dragging T-dog off and whispering in his ear when Glenn’s voice startled her, snapping her away from an image that had suddenly become a little easier to look at.

“You alright?” He asked. If he’d been there the entire time, she had no idea after having completely missed his presence. “Thought you might have gotten hit in your tent.”

“It just missed my head.” Jess replied with a small smile. “Just.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah. Just glad I wasn’t up and sitting by the fire.” She expressed.

“You and me both. Those two have been gunning for one another for days now.” He told her.

She responded with a thin smile and turned her head back to where Daryl was now shoving Merle towards them. As they passed her tent, Daryl’s eyes managed to meet hers. He looked furious, unsettled. Uncomfortable. Taking it as her cue to make herself scarce, she climbed back into her tent.

It was almost a ritual now, everyone sat down to eat at the same time, like a giant, dysfunctional family. As far as altercations were concerned, everything was usually forgotten about in time for dinner, food being on the top of everyone’s list of priorities. It wasn’t surprising to Jess to see Merle and T-Dog sat in the same vicinity after such a violent fight, both of them seeming content enough with devouring their food than having any more fights. Merle had situated himself slightly further back than everyone else and made a few un-classy remarks under his breath that had so far been ignored by everyone. Jess heard every word but pretended she didn’t as she finished up her meal and made her way back to the cooking pot. Spooning the rest of the stew into a bowl, she dunked a plastic spoon into it and set off to find Daryl, who was the only one absent from the dinnertime ritual.

Sitting far away from the group, on a fallen tree on the edge of the woods, Daryl could hear both Jodie and Sarah making fun of Jess as she passed. Anger simmered in his chest and he grit his teeth at the sound of their incessant, immature and annoying giggling.  

“Here”

Jess’s voice cut through his thoughts and he peered up at her with suspicion. He threw the piece of bark he was picking at on the floor in front of him and locked his gaze on her.  

“You haven’t eaten. Your brother has. So, I took this before he noticed there was seconds.”

“Why?” He grunts.

She licked her lips and exhaled, her shoulders sagging.

“Saved us all from getting caught in the middle of a pretty nasty fight earlier.”

A grunt was all she received in response. Expecting him to react in any other way would have been futile, it was written all over his face that he was not in the mood to socialize.

“How’s your face?” She asked.

His right eye was beginning to swell and she knew that by morning it would be fully blackened. She wished she had a bag of frozen peas or an ice pack to offer, but figured it would only be met with a snappy remark or shrugged off anyway. But Jess wasn’t one to give up easily on something she believed in and in that moment, she believed that Daryl could use a distraction from his bad mood. Shoving away her doubts and shyness, she kept her eyes trained on him.

“Had worse.” He mumbled.

“You should eat, here.” She offered him the bowl again, telling him in no uncertain terms that she was not about to give up. After a small huff, he looked back up at her, slowly dropping his vision to the steaming bowl of food before eventually taking it from her.  

“Thanks.” He grumbled, taking hold of the spoon and shoveling stew into his mouth without any regard for manners or decorum. Jess sat next to him and ripped up a handful of grass from the ground, gradually picking through the blades and discarding them in the breeze.

“Actually, it’s you that deserves the thanks. You hunted the food and then showed me how to skin it instead of just doing it yourself or showing me up in front of the others. So, thanks.”

“Ain’t nothin’.” He dismissed with his mouth full of food.

“Don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Jessica.” She told him.

Why didn’t I just say ‘Jess’? No one calls me Jessica. What am I doing?!

“Jess. You can call me Jess.” She corrected.

He turned his head, quickly scanning her from head to toe and swallowing the contents of his mouth.

“Daryl.” He stated.

“S’nice to meet you. I mean, as nice it can be, What, with corpses wandering around trying to eat us. That’s not exactly nice. But, there’s nothing like an apocalypse to bring out the best in people. But then again I guess some people are just crappy by nature.” She rambled.

He stared at her for a moment before shoving more food into his mouth. He was animalistic, almost feral somehow and he had an aura of unpredictability that made Jess nervous. Like a lion that appeared tame and calm but just below the surface lurked a danger that she didn’t want to see.

Jess was by all accounts, a self-declared introvert that didn’t actively seek out social interaction and felt the need to withdraw from situations or people that sapped her energy. Daryl was obviously not like everyone else and she would have hazarded a guess at him also being introverted, which meant that they possibly had something in common. It was unheard of that she made a marked effort to talk to someone that appeared so outwardly hostile, but the end of the world had brought with it a new found attitude in Jess; Just try it. See what happens. It was a philosophy that had kept her alive so far.

“It’s cold tonight, huh? I mean, I have enough blankets and stuff but it still gets through. It’s like ever since the world went to shit the nights have gotten colder” She expressed.

He finished up his food and dropped the bowl on the ground between his bent knees.

“Ya always talk this much?” He asked.

She wasn’t expecting such a question and didn’t know if she should be offended or amused.

“Uh… yes? No? I’m not sure.”

And she wasn’t. Not anymore. Now everything had changed and apparently so had she. If someone had told her she’d be sat beside a violent redneck and attempting to make nice during the apocalypse, she’d have laughed in their face.

Remaining at his side for half an hour more, she’d refused to move partly out of defiance. She braided grass into patterns and watched Carl and Sophia play at the side of the group while Daryl smoked and sulked, about what, she wasn’t sure. But he hadn’t got up and left, nor did he ask her to leave and she took that a small success.

Since she was a child, Jess always poured her deepest thoughts and feelings into a journal. Each entry left her feeling like she’d been cleansed and was ready for whatever the next day held. Sometimes, if she wasn’t in the mood to write huge paragraphs, she’d write, poetry, haiku’s or draw simple pictures in biro. Even with everything else destroyed and gone, Jess still made sure her journal was not neglected.

That night, in her tent. She opened up the thick, black leather-bound book and began writing.

'Daryl intrigues me. He has a brother that made himself known to me way before Daryl did. In fact, Merle leered at me as I walked by and told me I had ‘more cushin’ for the pushin’.” He’s vulgar and rude. I’m pretty sure he’s a raging racist too from what I’ve seen. I’m not sure Daryl is like that although there is a possibility. He just seems quieter, more thoughtful somehow. He’s kind of cute. In a dangerous kind of way. He broke up a fight between Merle and T-dog today. I have no shame in admitting I was impressed by his courage, even if he did get punched in the eye. I took him some food and tried to talk to him but he now just thinks I talk too much. I don’t think I said too much to him though, he’s just super quiet. Or did I? Oh god. I don’t know.

I’m not sure about everybody else. Rick seems like a nice guy; he’s checked in on me a few times. Shane too, although he’s a little… odd. I think there’s something going on between him and Rick’s wife. I keep catching them whispering to each other. But I shouldn’t make such assumptions. I could be very wrong. I like Carol, she’s the safest person to be around and I think I trust her, when she’s not with Ed. I don’t like him one, little bit. He’s a bad egg. I can tell. Rick’s kid, Carl is pretty cool. He sees a lot more than people give him credit for and he’s smart. He reminds me of me when I was his age.

I’m making an effort to stay away from Sarah and Jodie. They don’t like me and I don’t like them. My fat offends them. Good. I hope it makes their empty heads explode. It seems that no matter what happens in the world, those types of girls are everywhere. Like a disease or a bad smell that won’t go away. When they’re around, I just feel like I’m back in high school and I wouldn’t go back to high school if I was paid.

I could be in worse places. I could be dead. But I can’t shake this overwhelming urge to just be alone. I know it’s not safe and I know it’s not wise. I thought maybe if I talked to someone, tried to gain a friend, it’d help. So, I’m trying with Daryl. Out of everyone, I think he and I might be similar. What am I even talking about? The world ended and here I am, worrying about my social anxiety.

I should sleep. I rarely sleep more than a couple hours at a time now. I can’t stand the nightmares anymore.'

NEXT CHAPTER

#daryl dixon #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd

[lfd072936]

Harlequin - Chapter 1

So here is the first chapter of the fanfic I posted about previously. It features a original female character I intend to be “Harley Quinn” later on, although this story is completely different from the traditional comic book one. This chapter barely has Arthur in it, but he will be featured a lot later (obviously).

Word count: 1788

Summary: a young woman named Lola Page starts working at a new wing in Arkham Asylum.

Warnings: none, except that this chapter has criminally little Arthur in it, but I had write a little bit of backstory/building.

@tiredwritersworld asked to be tagged (<3)

Chapter 2 link

Chapter 3 link

1.       Fresh Meat

She had been working at Arkham for little over a year now. She liked it although with most things she could make peace and be content no matter what cards she was handed. Of course this wasn’t what she wanted to do originally, she wanted to be a dancer, which she practically was up until a misfortunate misunderstanding (as her mother called it) put her in prison.

- What do you want to do after you get out? – her probation officer asked one week before her release.

- What do you mean? I’m a dancer, I dance… that’s what I’m gonna do.

- Lola, you know you cannot go back to your old company after what happened.

- So? This is a big city, there’s plenty of fish in the sea.

- Look… word’s got around. No sane person would hire you as a dancer. You have to come up with something more… realistic.

- So then what do you suggest? I am not trained in anything other than dancing, I have no skills. Should I sweep the filthy streets of Gotham so that you can check it off of a to-do-list, while telling me how much cleaning up other people’s shit is helping me to get back on my feet?

- Come on, there surely must be something that you would like to do.

The probation officer was too persistent to shrug off so after a few suggestions she agreed to try this job. The hospital was on such a staff shortage that it only took a 10-day training for an ex-convict who was sentenced for assault to start working there. Of course she was not allowed to do anything medical or touch any drugs, but she did help out with anything else she could from feeding to making the beds and mostly interacting with patients. She was placed in the eastern wing due to her past where the lighter patients resided, those who generally did not pose a threat to anyone other than themselves. Lola proved herself to be an excellent employee over the months, despite her criminal record no incidents occurred and she was adored by the patients she took care of and the feeling was seemingly mutual. She surprisingly had immense patience and gentleness towards them.

That day however she was called into her supervisor’s office out of the blue. She knocked on her door at around noon and stepped in confidently.

- Hey, Josie!

- Hey, Angel! Have a seat… - she sat down opposite of her supervisor, a sweet old lady with immaculate style. Lola always adored the intricate braids she could put into her greying hair. – How are things going?

- Amazing as always… you know me – she said with a wide smile.

- Yeah, yeah I do. So – she usually cut straight to the point – you’ve been with us for over a year now… - Lola heard the hesitation in her voice. Something was wrong.

- Are you letting me go, Josie? – her voice wasn’t worrying more confused.

- No, God no… listen the thing is… there was a situation over at west and I need to switch you up with someone.

- Sure, no problem.

- Yeah? – Josie raised an eyebrow.

- Absolutely. It’s even closer to my stop.

- But you know that the west is one of the more, well… problematic wings. And you will get an all new supervisor, new colleagues…

- That’s alright. I think I can handle it.

- Okay – she said with a slight surprised tone. – Thank you for being so understanding.

- No… - Lola leaned forward a bit – Thank you for giving me a chance for change.

The next week she started her shift at the notorious western wing. She was greeted by one of the nurses who was assigned to show her around, although it did not seem like she volunteered for it. Oh, how wildly different this part of the hospital was. Almost all rooms were for one person, the doors were made from metal and heavy latches protected the outside from anyone that was on the inside. Guards were patrolling the floors and almost all patients outside of their cell were at least handcuffed if not forced into a straightjacket.

The nurse led Lola up on one of the lesser used back stairs.

- This is the staff area – she continued her never-ending tale of dos and don’ts. – A little bit onward there is a kitchen and a room with some beds, although I heard that you’re not allowed to take any night shifts – Lola frowned. No she wasn’t, but why did everyone have to be aware of that? Why was her past such common knowledge even on a wing she never even entered before? – But sometime we do like to take naps. A little further back are the women’s restrooms and next to them the showers. Why they put them so far from the beds still baffles me… but make sure to always lock the shower with your keys especially if you’re inside, because we have some incidents from time to time.

- Wait… what kind of incidents?

- Those patients who manage to wander off are especially drawn to this place to give a little surprise visit.

- Oh… we never had anything like that. On my previous wing incident meant someone spilt their OJ – the nurse gave a mocking laugh.

- Welcome to the wild west, Page – Lola did not laugh though, if anything she wondered how can some patients just walk into a staff shower with all these safety precautions.

Their tour continued pretty smoothly, they walked and she talked on end. She finally halted in front of the entrance of the communal room.

- Now about some of our patients. The worst are Flynt, 7-foot guy, pure muscle. He is restrained at all times, but he sure likes to bite and if he spontaneously faints close to you, don’t try to catch him. Then there’s Marigold… she hates everyone younger than her, so more and more people every year, I would just avoid her all together. And last but not least, there’s Fleck. He is currently stable on his meds, but he has some authority over the other patients. If I were you I would put my sunshine and rainbows approach that might have worked back at your old wing aside and be little more tough or else this place will crush you, but… I would try to stay on Fleck’s good side.

- But why do the other patients respect him so much?

- How old even are you? – the nurse laughed again. She was rude, but Lola decided to just swallow it for now. – He is Arthur Fleck… the guy who killed Murray Franklin a while back. Ring a bell?

Lola’s face lit up. She never would have admitted it to anyone, but she adored that clown. She thought he was an icon, the face of the protests she desperately wanted to attend, but her mother forced her to stay in their spotless suburban house, that the garbage strike could not reach. Oh, and that television broadcast that she had the privilege to see live… brilliant. She did not condone murder, but he executed it so theatrical and with much flare. Honestly she wouldn’t mind someone killing her either, if it happened in such a stylish way.

- Wait up… you mean to tell me that you have the Joker in this wing? – she couldn’t hide her excitement.

- Yes, but why are you so happy about it?

- You never met a celebrity, huh? – Lola laughed. Now it was her turn to make the nurse uncomfortable and looked down upon.

- Stop laughing! – she hissed. – He’s not a celebrity, and trust me… you will be disappointed when you see him. Now get in, and do your job!

She forced a serious look on her face as they walked in. The room was more bleak and depressing than the one at her old wing, this one clearly had more insanity in the air. She could feel almost every patient looking at her, those at least who were aware of their surroundings, and it made her uneasy. She completed the tasks upon tasks given to her wondering which one could the Joker be, but she just couldn’t tell. Finally, she approached one of her colleague who’s face seemed familiar.

- Hey, which one is Fleck?

- Don’t look right away, but it’s the one who didn’t stop staring at you ever since you arrived – she said with a grimace on her face. – I mean the one by the window. – she had to correct herself, because most patients were still staring at Lola.

- I surely am interesting.

- Well, you know how it is… you’re fresh meat. – she returned the smile, because the worker had no wrong intentions, but being called fresh meat was not something Lola thrived on.

As promised she did not look at the window’s direction, but rather went back to doing her job, feeding patients, getting them blankets etc., but after a while she couldn’t help herself. Masking it as a simple glance to the clock on the wall above the man, she could finally look at him. The man was alone with nothing but a notebook in front of him, but at the moment he wasn’t focused on that. He was smoking and looking at her. He blew out some smoke as their eyes locked and took another drag. The nurse did not exaggerate; he really was a lot different than she expected. He was thin and frail, his face wrinkly, but that look… oh that was something to die for. He was practically piercing her with his gaze and she could feel blood rush into her cheeks. She quickly looked down unable to do anything else, but from the corner of her eyes she could see him smile with satisfaction. Bastard. It was so amusingly annoying she had to smile, but made sure to turn away, so he didn’t see it.

She went on with her tasks, being sent here and there around the floor. So far she wasn’t too impressed by this wing, how somber and grey everything was, despite the walls being painted to a pretty yellow color somehow the air was grey. But there was one positive thing: Arthur. She was desperate to talk to him, even though he surely was nothing like she expected, but it only made her more curious. How much did he change, how much did the meds tone him down, was that whole persona just for television? It was impossible to tell as of yet.

#joker fanfiction #joker x ofc #joker x harley #sortof #barely any joker sorry #arthur fleck #sort of oc

[mrneighbourlove]

Red Typhoon: Ch 1. Dreaming of the Coming Storm

Revy took a silent breath as she crept through the snow with her pack. Although she wasn't a Direnor by blood, she developed their sense of being a successful hunter and warrior through her mother. The wilds of Uskar were wide, but full of danger that could creep up at any moment. Food was always a gamble to acquire, but Revy held faith in her skills, her spirit, and the support of her pack.

"Watch closely," Borghild whispered to Revy as the pair watched Boof from the other side of the frozen meadow. Deer were grazing on some twigs off the trees. The Avalanchel hound was waiting for the signal from his human. As soon as it was given, he would chase one deer in her direction. This would give Revy the chance to strike their prey with her weapon. "Breathe steadily. Only when you're ready."

Revy blinked only once in anticipation. The air was chilling, but she was prepared. The deer were massive, but it lead to a unique problem to solve. Unless one was incredible lucky, arrows would have difficulty taking down her prey at the first strike. For Direnor's, one could transform into a mighty beast to wrestle their prey down, but for Revy, she only had to tools in her hands, and the body and mind to support herself. She readied her axe. The blade would be able to get off a deep and long cut if she could strike properly. Feeling the shift in the air, she felt it was time. Throwing her hand down, she gave the signal to her companion.

"GRRR BARK BARK BOOF WOOF WOOF!!!" Boof charged out of his hiding place and toward the deer. The dog was smart, and chose the biggest prey. The larger the prey, the more meat for his family. He nipped at the heels of the buck, and led it right to Revy.

Revy wanted to impress her mom. She wanted to do her friends and family and clan proud. Give her little brother a symbol to look up too. Praying for her energy to not fail, sparks flew around her axe as she jumped from her cover, and with a mighty swing, she sliced off one of the back legs off the deer.

As soon as Revy sliced off the leg, the buck went down into the snow. It struggled to get back up, but Boof took this as his opportunity. He chomped his large jaws around the deer's throat, and pulled, hard. With a crack, the buck's neck snapped and then he released the prey. Sniffing it to make sure the buck was dead, Boof then sat on his haunches, and wagged his tail, awaiting his praise.

Revy waited for the electric magic to stop sizzling around her axe. She only recently discovered her new talent, and it was still difficult to find an instant off switch on it. Sheathing her weapon, she ran up to Boof, kneeled down, and hugged him around his neck. "You were amazing boy! Great work! You can have the whole leg I cut clean off!"

The Gerudo woman had recently turned twenty. Her growth was fast through her teenage years, now just coming over Borghild in height. With a smile, she gave her mom a grin. "How'd we do?"

"Boof boof bork!" Boof licked Revy's cheek several times as he stood on his back legs, putting his fore paws on her shoulders. Even though the dog was older in age, he still could hunt with the best of them. Panting, the dog then resumed his original sitting position.

"I think you and Boof did perfectly," Borghild smiled at Revy's accomplishment. "However, I think you need to be really careful with the electricity, sweetie. You don't want to accidentally electrocute yourself or Boof now."

"I know. I just feel I need to practice it now. Last thing we need is to be in a real fight, and for it to not be completely under control."

Revy gave a small grunt as she heaved the deer over her shoulder. "How long do you think we can keep this deer going on for?"

"Between your father and Trygve, we'll be lucky if it lasts us a week and a half." Borghild laughed, knowing how much her men loved meat. "I'm beginning to believe your brother eats more than your father."

"Bork!"

"Excuse me, your father, your brother, and your dog."

"Well, they are just hungry boys at heart." Revy grinned down at her companion. "That includes you too boy~"

"Bork!"

"Next time, I think you and your brother will do just fine hunting together without my supervision." Borghild tromped back through the snow with Revy and Boof. "What do you think?"

"That better not happen soon. He's only seven mom. You know how long I had to wait. It was exhausting just waiting for the years to count down."

"Ha! I meant he observes, and you hunt." Borghild laughed. "He still turns into a grizzly when he gets too excited or scared."

"Well, we know the real reason why we have to wait till we're of age to come out here." Even now, Revy kept her eyes open for the slightest sign of the scourge of the undead to rise. She took her lessons and stories on Frost Ones deadly seriously. The Gerudo hoped that it would be a safe trip back to the wall.

"Hopefully the reign of the Frost King will soon be over," Borghild sighed as she kept her hand on her blade at all times. "We both know that the King and Queen have been working with the rulers of Hyrule for a solution. Though, nothing can be done unless we first find where his lair is."

"When that happens, I'll lead the packs to strike him down myself." Revy gave herself a proud bump on the chest. With the growth of age, her dream of being a hero never faded.

"When that happens, we'll formulate a plan before you go charging in." Borghild booped Revy on the nose. "You're too reckless like your father sometimes. Remember what I told you all these years. A female bear only charges when protecting her cubs or feeling threatened." Then she added. "Otherwise, thinks carefully before striking her prey."

Revy's mouth was a gap as she gave a pout. "I-I'm not reckless! I just give it my all sometimes. I have YOUR brains you know."

"Oh? Then what did you call diving into the freezing cold river after that huge sturgeon after I told you not to?"

"I call that a moderate success. I caught it, didn't I?"

"You caught it, but you had a cold for two weeks." Borghild snorted in amusement. "Do you call that a success?"

"....It was completely worth it."

"See? Reckless and stubborn, just like your father."

"But I wouldn't have caught it without calculating its pattern. Like you do. So I think it evens out."

Reaching the wall, Scarlet kept watch. The Gerudo woman wore shining white and thick iron knuckle armour, her battle axe shimmering silver in the snowy sun. Seeing the two woman gave her relief. Her daughter and Borghild traveling out into those wild wilderness gave her heart pause every time they traveled out. She instructed the men on the wall to open the gates. Jogging down the steps, Scarlet was glad her helmet gave her plenty of heat in the icy temperature. "Congratulations on the hunt you two. There wasn't any complications, was there?"

"No mother. There wasn't. As you can see, I did just fine." Revy received a bark from Boof, the dog wagging his tail. "Correction. We did a good job."

"Bork!" Boof agreed with his human, both of them did a fine job.

"Revy here is getting to be a fine hunter." Borghild complimented her daughter. "I know she's eager to please and wants to fight Frost Ones, but I'd rather her be a scout or a hunter." She then added. "Though her and Boof make a great team, Scarlet. You should have seen them take down the deer."

"I bet it was amazing. You better run along kiddo."

"Moms. I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle myself as a fighter and I don't need the nicknames anymore."

"You'll always be our little girl."

"The only reason I'm letting you get away with that is because no one else is around to hear that." As Revy ran off with Boof, Scarlet gave a sigh. "She's grown up so fast. And she's set her sights for accomplishments so high."

"I know, I think it's good that she has dreams and wants to make something of herself, but..." Borghild sighed as she watched Revy head toward the house with Boof. "I just don't want her to get hurt or feel like she's failed."

"I don't think she'll ever believe herself to be a failure. It's getting killed that worries me. Don't really have anyone else besides her."

"Aw, come on now, that's bullshit, you got me and Rat." Borghild nudged Scarlet in the shoulder. "And little Trygve."

"I know... It's just..." Scarlet looked out to the wilderness. How many times had she thought about just walking out and never coming back? "I don't have a Voe or even a Vai in my life. I gambled everything on Revy. If I lose her... I can't lose her."

"If you want a Voe or a Vai, then there are plenty of eligible folks here, Scarlet." Borghild walked with the Gerudo back to her position. "Maybe you should settle down with a grizzly. I got a few friends I could introduce you to, unless you prefer your partner less... furry."

"I don't know if anyone would want to be with me, furry or not." Scarlet had been given the nickname the cold iron giant. The metal armour, obviously, but also how she seemed to brood and be introverted around Uskar. When people challenged her to feats of strengths, she usually beat them with indifference. She only tended to show excitement with people she found interest in, but they had yet to show interest in her back.

"You should go after her. I'll make my final rounds here than head back home."

"Don't give up, all right? Someone will come along." Borghild assured Scarlet and then chased after Revy. The girl was becoming a fantastic hunter, but still could not skin a deer that well. Besides, she wanted her girl to keep the fur to make into a blanket. As she neared the house, Rat was there with little Trygve, trying to teach his son how to polish a knife.

"Now, lad, you have to learn to take care of your weapons, because if you don't, they won't take care of you." Rat was carefully showing the boy how to sharpen the dagger, then wipe with clover oil for a finish. "Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

It seemed though, that Revy had not yet returned to the house. Borghild knew how her daughter liked to show off, and exactly where to find her.

~

Lex pampered her face with makeup after cleaning her lips. She took satisfaction looking back at the man she just drained. It was like he never felt the touch of woman before. Well, probably not of her caliber. Turning her body back to him, he was entranced by her tits. Lex gave them a bounce to keep his attention. “Ok big boy, a deals a deal.”

The man in question was a Hasai soldier, having been recently transferred to the Uskar defence force. Before that, he was bragging about fighting pirates. “Well, the details are simple. We fought a group of pirates on the black sea.”

“I want complicated details. Specific map points. The goddamn beards on your opponents if you have to. That’s what I worked for after all~”

“Hmmm, damn right you did. Alright, kid. I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

Ever since she hit the ripe age of 18, Lex had being using her skills as the ‘most attractive woman of Uskar’ for the past two years to acquire information from sailors and travelers on any information that could lead to finding her mother and Seer. Every lead she marked on a makeshift map. She felt confident that she was narrowing in on a location. Giving the Hasai man a deep kiss, she moved him quickly along out of the brothel.

Daddy Bakura let her travel to Hyrule for five months to be with Revy and get a change of pace from Uskar. During that time, the white haired Gerudo learned as many tricks and trades in exotic businesses to get any man to talk. Sex was ok, sometimes great, but it was mostly just a tool for her. She was still waiting for one of the princes to take up her offer of some beautiful love making.

Today her sister was supposed to arrive in shore with Uncle Corsaire. Maybe they could exchange information if Liz was in a good mood. Almost never was these days though. How her sister made Prince Halvar her boyfriend with her constant travel was a complete mystery to Lex. Didn’t stop her from trying to convince the prince to settle down with a more stay at home girl.

Going outside, Lex noticed Revy carrying a massive deer into town. “Oh cool! That’s a big boy you got there!”

Revy gave a chuckle, not above flexing her muscles in front of the townsfolk. She liked to contribute and give hope where she could. “Yeah, it wasn’t that much of a challenge.”

“Ok Ms. Hero. Let’s all bow in your glowing righteousness.”

“Haha. Liz arrive yet?”

“No, not quite. I think she’ll be home soon though. Grandpa misses her. And I bet Halvar cries himself to sleep due to the worries he has over her.”

Revy gave a cheeky grin back. “You’re just jealous he doesn’t cry over you~”

“Well he totally should.”

It was never easy for Corsaire to be away from his wife for too long. After this journey, the captain was eager to stay at home for a few months. It would not be so bad to run some new sea tactics with the recruits for a while and let the others do a cargo trip. However, Orana asked him to take his niece, Liz, back home safely for Seer's sake. Having the little tyke follow him everywhere after Seer's kidnapping was annoying for a while, always having to watch her. Though, she did surprise him at her determination to get better, to be the best she could be. So it was vigorous training consisting of sword fighting on the top yards, swinging on a rope while aiming to shoot, and most of all, how to take a punch and get back up. The girl preserved all these years, and was now a fine sailor. The ex-pirate was still concerned about sailing to Uskar. The sea ice was getting harder to penetrate with each voyage. Soon, even the upgraded ships from Danjur would not be able to pierce it.

"Miss Frode," Captain Corsaire stood at the wheel and then called her forth. "Guide us to the port. I need to be ready to receive the royals."

"Yes sir." Liz called out, taking the wheel. The years had been hard on her without Seer being a light in her life. She made a pact with her sister and Revy to rescue Seer and defeat their mother. All these years of training was hard on Liz, but her fiery determination made her fiercely dedicated to improvement. A few years back, Prince Halvar asked her on a date. The young Gerudo accepted, and despite not being able to see each other often, they somehow made it work as a couple. Liz gave out orders to the crew, just like she was taught, as they pulled into the docks.

Halvar was there to see Liz. He was pacing back and forth, impatiently, trying to peer onto the ship to see her. He waited until she was of age to ask her to date. That was Rat's rule, and had been Seer's rule before... well, before he was kidnapped. His family never lost hope that Seer was out there somewhere, still alive. As soon as the ship was docked, and the planks were set to unload the cargo, Halvar bolted up onto the boat and looked for the beautiful Gerudo.

"Liz!!!" Halvar ran up to her, swung her around, and planted a deep kiss on her lips... and then turned blood red, and put her back on her feet. "I... um... I missed you."

A few of the crew whistled on the boat.

"Knock it off, that's my niece!" Captain Corsaire barked at them. "Do your damn jobs and unload the cargo before we all get frostbite."

Liz gave the crew a look of pure murder for the catty whistles. If they wanted that particular fantasy they could go bother her sister. Turning back to Halvar, she gave a warm smile back. Deep kisses was as far as they had taken their relationship so far, and perhaps a little cuddling from time to time. “I’m glad to see you too. You’ve been ok?”

"Been on more hunts and scouts, fought a couple of Frost Ones, but it's odd." Halvar shrugged his shoulders. "Lately, we haven't seen too many of them. We're not sure if the Frost King is having trouble finding more bodies or if they're not approaching because of our allies now. Either way, we're a little grateful for the break." He then asked. "But you, I'm sure you have some adventures to tell everyone?"

"I'm glad that the Undead King of the North is letting his grip loose. As for me, I helped lead my first engagement against Adda's pirate forces. We interrogated one of the prisoners we took in hopes of finding Dad. All we learned is that Adda's forces are placed strategically so that a long search would be disastrous to try and break her power up. I just wish we could find a proper location. That way we could save our resources and go in hard."

"It's been so long now." Halvar thought back to the day of when everyone learned Seer had been taken by Adda. Liz and Lex were beyond consolable for a while, until swearing to get their father back. Then, it was a race against time. "I'm sure your search will come to a close soon, but... have you given thought to what you're going to do if you catch Adda?" Halvar knew better than to refer to Adda as Liz's mom. She always gave him a glare for that.

"I want to kill her, but Lex is still salty about that whenever I bring it up. So I'll just settle with her facing the courts of Danjur, Hyrule, and Uskar." Liz squeezed her fist just thinking about it. She spent so many years preparing for the day, dreaming in detail about her revenge and bringing justice.

"Either way, the courts of our kingdom, Danjur, and Hyrule will all arrive to the same verdict; death." Halvar walked with Liz off the ship the docks. "For now, let's focus on a more happy note, your return home. Besides, I have something for you." The prince fidgeted slightly as he approached the guards waiting on him. No matter where he went, Halvar still had protection. Grasping a wrapped package, he undid the string and there was the traditional courtship gift; a cloak of fur. Turning back to Liz, Halvar held it up for her to see, blushing darkly. "I... I hunted this when you left for sea and have been working on sewing it into a presentable cloak and um..." He offered it to Liz, hoping, praying she'd accept, as he said the age old line. "I offer you this gift of courtship... if you'll accept?"

Liz froze up, her mouth hanging open. Such a public display of affection was so bold of Halvar. Was this the same man she left behind on her training? She thought from a pure intellectual viewpoint on this, as it helped her calm down. Don't panic. He loves you. You adore him. Most of all, he has your trust. That's right. You trust him. He won't leave or hurt you. Snapping back into reality, Liz realized she must have left him hanging on an answer for a while due to the worry that started to form on his brow. "I'm so sorry. You just sprung it up. Yes. I accept."

"Oh thank Rotar." Halvar released the breath he was holding. She just stared at him for a moment, and for a brief time, the prince thought Liz was going to run back onto the ship and sail away. He then smiled widely and wrapped the warm cloak around her shoulders. Liz was not like the other female Direnors who would only accept a white cloak, no, she preferred the darker colors. For that reason, he had hunted for weeks until he found the perfect shade of red-brown for his girlfriend. "I... I hope you like it."

"I do. You took the time to carefully choose the fur for me. I'm grateful for that." She gave him another kiss. Lex and Revy were running to the port, the latter still carrying the deer, when they saw Halvar offer his courtship. Lex gave a small pout. "Great, lost that love boat."

"Lex. You never HAD that love boat. And chin up, you can still score one of the older brothers. Maybe."

"Thanks for the confidence Rev."

With big smiles, both girls ran to Liz. Revy threw her deer to one of Halvar's guards and they each hugged Liz. "Good to see you!"

Liz hugged them back, trying to keep a professional air about her with so many people arriving at the dock. "Good to see you both as well."

Lex gave Halvar a wink. "See you finally did it. Congrats on netting my sister~"

The guard nearly fell over when Revy simply tossed him the deer without warning.

"It was her choice to accept or not." Halvar turned red again at Lex's comment. "Besides, I feel so lucky to have her at my side. She's a good woman, a strong woman."

"Bork!" Boof nudged Liz for pets, being demanding. He was the fluffy, adorable one, he should be the center of attention.

Revy held Boof back, rubbing his neck. "You can have pets later boy."

The white haired Gerudo gave a mischievous grin, eying the young couple together. "So when you two gonna bang one out?~"

Liz's expression grew with pure horror. "Don't say shit like that so loud!"

Lex received a hard punch to the shoulder from her sister for that. "OW! Settle down! Just a joke!"

"Whu-whu, we um, we uh..." Halvar blushed dark red all the way up to his ears. Intimacy was still foreign to Liz and him, and he was not about to make advances just yet. After all, it was the lady who said yes or no. The last thing he wanted was to get slapped.

"I can always teach you what a lady wants~"

"THAT'S IT!"

Liz tackled Lex to the ground, and started to slap at her face, with Lex giving giggles and grunts. Revy quickly intervened, pulling the sisters away from each other. "Hey, hey, hey! Enough! Lex, no trying to make Halvar hard and your sister mad!"

"Fine, geeze."

"You are insufferable sometimes Lex."

"But you love me anyways~ And if it wasn't for my knowledge of pleasing men, I wouldn't have come up with an accurate map on tracking mom down."

That caught Liz off by guard. "You've been doing what?"

While the prince was used to the sisters fighting a bit, he was not prepared to hear what Lex said about pleasure.

"I think... I'm going to um..." Halvar gestured to the land. "Yeah, I'm going to go and wait over there. That seems like a grand idea."

"Yeah! I've been getting information from sailors and travelers who seen mom and her forces. I've narrowed it down to a triangle of coordinates."

Liz wanted to argue about her sister whoring out to get information, but she was too tired to argue. "I'll take a look at it later. Just stay out of trouble. Have you seen Bakura?"

Lex took a sigh. "He's been doing 'deep mediation' out by the cave. Can't get him to come out some days. Kind of sad, but he says it he'll find Daddy through the 'spirits'."

Revy clapped her hands. “Well, we better get going. Who wants to help me skin this deer?”

~

In three days, it would be seven years. Seer felt of the calendar with his fingers and sighed. He was older now. Adda had never released him. Despite his pleas and trying to find means of escape, nothing ever worked. The one kindness she did allow him was that old mage. He could listen to Liz and Lex through her magic. At least he was able to keep tabs on their lives. Still, it was not the same as holding them close, giving them kisses on the forehead, and fixing them a decent meal. He wanted to feel their warmth on his hands again. Though, his little girls were not so little anymore.

Outside of the magic barrier that gave that hid her paradise, Captain Adda flicked the wind waker to open the imaginary gate that allowed her to sail safely to her paradise home. Her latest skirmish was bloody and brutal. Every once in a while she had to put her foot down on the island she controlled. Rebels were such a nuisance. Her trade agreements were fair, so who cared if she was a little hard on them. Everyone was finally at peace. Besides the major continents, she ruled the oceans. Flicking the wind waker again, her ship went past the barrier as it closed. It took another good hour to sail to the island's north port side.

Docking, she took another hour greeting her people, handing out and ordering who got what food and drinks, made orders for her lieutenants to carry out, and got herself a martini. Finally, she opened the door to her chambers, giving Seer a whistle. "Miss me handsome?"

"No."

The longer his time on the island, the more bitter Seer became towards Adda. He would begrudgingly amuse her with sex, the random conversation, and sometimes have to accompany her to see the rest of her people. That he hated the most, feeling like a pet on a chain once more. She wouldn't kill him, but rather keep him alive to torment him with the fact that he could not get away with her.

"Oh don't be like that." Adda sat down on the bed, yawning with exhaustion. "Tell me, girls treating you ok? Little Beck wanted to see you do whale tricks with a ball. Went on about seeing it in a book. I think the little gal likes you.”

"I'm not a pet." Seer snapped at her with a glare about the whale tricks. "And I'm not going to play with a ball for fish. You got me doing that already."

"She was just a six year old girl with a curiosity. What's up your ass?" Adda slugged back her drink and fell back on the bed. "It's not like you been shot recently or anything. Now that's something to be cranky about."

"I'd rather be shot than have to stay here. Then again, you know that, I've told you that, but it's like you have too much saltwater in your ears to properly listen." Seer got up off the bed, in a particularly bad mood since the anniversary of his kidnapping was coming up. "Tell your people to stay the hell away from me. I'm going for a swim." He then stopped and added as an afterthought. "Do not join me."

"They're just ordinary folks. You really want to be the one to crush the dreams of little girls who never seen a man transform into a whale? God, you are such a pussy. You want me to shoot you? I can do that, right now."

"Then do it!!!" Seer turned around, screaming at her. "I've been trapped here for seven damn years now, Adda! I haven't held my girls, told them I love them, I have no freedom! I'm a slave again! Shoot me, right here, through the heart! Put me out of my misery! Your crew missed the first time, but I doubt you will!" He demanded. "Do it! I can't take another day of hearing my girls from that blasted ball saying they're wondering if I'm dead or alive, hearing them cry because of me!"

"Oh fuck you, you blind piece of shit." Adda rose to her feet. "I had a plan. A really simple and easy plan that kept the girls safe for a while. I own the fucking oceans now. I am the Queen of the seas. I'm the greatest Gerudo chieftain that's ever lived. My people are happy. They're in a state of nirvana that has never been seen before. And all those that stand against me have no possible power to beat me or my forces. And I was going to give that to the girls. I knocked on your door to bring all of you with me. But you acted like a petty child. You ran from Hyrule, cheating me years to track you down, than you had the gull to tell me to leave. This 'suffering' you're feeling is nothing. I missed thirteen years, and now the additional seven years on top of that. Now that they're tough and smart woman, maybe they'll find there way here. Grow the fuck up, or shut the fuck up." Curious, she handed him an unloaded, cocked gun. "What you gonna do about it? You wanna rob them of one of their parents?"

"You're nothing but a murderer and a greedy soul who decides all your wrongs are righted by what you do for your people. Think what you want of me, but my girls will never be like you. Besides for all I know, you didn't want them." Seer sneered at her. "Dump them with me to get back at Bakura. Classy move, mother, using your daughters like they're dispensable. That's all they are to you, something to use." When Adda handed him the gun, Seer frowned at her. "You think I'm an idiot? This isn't loaded. I spent years with Corsaire on a ship, I know an unloaded gun to a loaded one." He threw the gun to the side with a huff. "The only reason you won't give me bullets is because you still want your toy at your side. Just like the girls, that's all I am to you; an object." The blind Direnor stomped outside, tossing his shirt and pants wherever before the water hit his feet. As soon as he was neck deep, he started to shift.

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!! I NEVER USED MY GIRLS!!! I SAVED THEM!!! HOPE YOU DROWN OUT THERE!!!!!"

The moonlight fell on the ocean as Seer swam around. All the life he ever found in the calm area of water he was free to swim in were the odd colourful fish that came and went. So, on this night, it was a shocking sight when he chanced an encounter with a whale under water. It was colourful as a rainbow, and had angel wings on its back.

Seer had never seen another whale here, despite his many years of swimming trying to find an exit.

"Can you understand me?"

"Hmmm? Of course I can understand you. Nice night for a swim, isn't it."

"Oh, I agree, the water is very nice this night." Seer felt relieved, but wondered if he was about to lose his break on sanity. Either way, it supposed this was not too bad. Talking to an angelic whale was the least of his worries, even if he was going insane. "I don't suppose you're a... messenger? The wings?"

"I'm the Wind Fish. Who are you?"

"Wind Fish? I think I've heard of you in Hyrule's tales..." Seer then realized he was being rather rude. "Oh, my apologies. My name is Erling Frode, but my friends call me Seer. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The Wind Fish looked deep into Seer, his tone unchanging. "You seem tired Seer."

"I think tired is an understatement, Wind Fish." Seer, in reality, felt exhausted. He wanted to give up. Holding onto hope was such a lost cause. Adda would never let him go. "I'm trapped here and I cannot leave to see my family. No matter what I do, I cannot find freedom. My only way out of this place is death, and I'm denied even that."

"What is your wish for life?"

"My wish for life?" Seer repeated. "What I would want if I could have it?"

"You have great pain in your heart. What wish is on your mind? What do you dream of?"

"I only wish to be with my girls again, my family, back in Uskar." Seer sighed heavily. "I dream of hearing my girls laugh again instead of crying for my sake. I dream of us fixing food together in the kitchen again. I dream of telling Alexandra and Elizabeth to stop arguing and go do their chores. Memories of the past mix with what I want for the future. Seems silly, doesn't it?"

"Not at all. Dreams are a beautiful thing. And it's funny how they can come true. I have to go now." The Wind Fish started to fly away, surging out of the water and above the defence ships on the surface, not seeming to mind getting spotted or not.

"H-Hey, wait!" Seer shot up toward the surface after the Wind Fish. Though by the time he breached, the Wind Fish was already long gone. He couldn't sense him anymore. Dejectedly, Seer just lounged on the surface of the waves. "Don't leave me here alone..."

Seer heard a voice echo in his head. "You are never alone Seer. And your heart won't feel alone for long. Now wake up. Wake up…. Wake up….."

~ Seer woke up in bed, rested like never before, but both a hopeful happiness and yet some sadness in him. Beside him, Adda was stirring in bed, drying her face.

Seer did wake with a jolt. Was the entire encounter a dream?

"... either I drowned and you came to fetch me, or I fell asleep in the waves again."

"You went for a swim and than you must have came back yourself. I went to bed before you came back." Adda was oddly monotone this morning.

"Oh. I don't recall." Seer sat up in bed, rubbing his head, feeling for a knot or a scrape. No, he definitely did not knock his skull. The entire encounter must have been a dream. "I don't remember much... I must have stayed in my other form too long again."

"Did you have any weird dreams last night?" Adda kept her attention away from him, still looking to her left at the wall.

"I'm certain I did, though I'm not able to recall them all. Why? Talking in my sleep and disturbing your beauty rest again?"

Adda didn't give him a smartass remark. "I dreamed I wanted to be with girls and I wasn't a monster to Bakura. It was so... peaceful. I wanted it to be so real..."

"Sounds like you wish to turn back time." Seer stretched his body, feeling stiff from being in his other form.

"Maybe. I saw this... giant colourful fish in the sky. No idea why. It asked what I wanted. I said to have the family I always wanted and-" Adda paused. For a moment of vulnerability she shook with emotion before reeling it in. "Forget it. The whole things stupid. I just got this feeling I'm going to see them again soon."

"You have the family you've always wanted out there, Adda." Seer pointed in the general direction of the door. "You even told me it was your dream to create this paradise for the Gerudo."

"That's different. I'm their Queen. A Queen who was chosen for this life. I'm talking about being a mother to my own kids."

"You had that chance too, before you pursued the war." Seer fixed his long hair back into a tail. "Just like Scarlet did."

"Don't say her name." Adda turned to him, her brow curling with anger. "I'm tired of having the same argument with you over and over regarding my choices."

"Then let me go and you'll never hear my voice again to remind you of said poor choices."

"So you can lead your forces right back to me? No thanks."

"Now you're the one being stupid. I don't even know where the hell I am."

"That's the whole idea. To keep your pod of savage whales away from the innocents of this island."

"Those savage whales don't attack innocents, only those who dare to hurt their own." Seer retaliated at her remark. "You took the girls, and in return, we attacked."

"I had the right to those girls. If you really thought I was a monster, you would have killed me in that ice cold water, or here in my sleep." Adda spat back bitterly.

"Just because you're their biological mother doesn't give you any right to them. The people who love them, take care of them, doesn't have to be blood to be their family." Seer argued with narrowed eyes. "And I never said you were a monster." He leaned a little closer and said bluntly. "I just hate your guts. If I killed you, Lex would hate me. That's the last thing I want. I think more of those girls than you ever will. I gave my life to them. You? You decided to make yourself Queen and to hell with everything else. Want me to shut up? Then turn me loose."

"I was going to make them both royalty of the seas. You have no idea about what I think of them." Adda snorted back. With a shrug of her shoulders, she tried to change the conversation. "You wanna stop talking and fuck for a while?"

"Well, you screamed at me to drown yesterday, so I think I might go back out for a long swim and see if that happens." Seer replied sarcastically. "Seeing you're a self proclaimed queen and all, I think you can handle waiting to fuck for a day or so." He then added, just to mess with Adda. "Besides, Bakura is a better fuck than you."

"Seer, don't be an ass." Adda pushed him to the side and went to her wardrobe. At Bakura though, she turned her head to him. "You did not."

"He slapped my ass, I buried my face in his abs, the rest is history."

“Tell me than. What did it feel like?” Adda stared coldly at him.

"Why do you want to know? Jealous I'm a better lay?"

“To see you bullshitting me. What was it like Seer?”

"A fight for dominance, that's for sure. You know Bakura has a fetish of grabbing the neck a bit?" Seer was going off of what he sensed from the man. While Seth was always in the back of Bakura's mind, the other soul residing in the assassin's body still influenced a few actions. For once, Seer was grateful for his powerful sense of smell and echolocation. He could read Bakura's body language and predict his thoughts without a single word. "Burying my face into a pillow, muffling my moans just until he senses I'm ready to cum. Sometimes, he even denies me that, wanting me to beg a little."

“You know what it was like for me? It was knowing that he the someone I could trust. He made me feel vulnerable like no other man. When he fucked me, I didn’t care about anything else. Because he was naive enough, stupid enough, or maybe kind enough to be so open and gentle too.” Adda punched Seer back onto the bed. “But you would have said that if you ever made love with a man like Bakura. You’d know he made you feel complete.”

"Now that's a steaming pile of shit right there, Adda," Seer actually snickered. "Because if you were so complete with him, then you really screwed up by leaving him, and better yet, dumping his daughters with me. You know he told me he wanted to kill you for what you did to him? Making him lose years of his daughters' lives too? Isn't it funny how these things turn out." He was now full out laughing, almost a hysterical tint to it. "And you! You kidnapped me out of petty revenge! Not on him, but on your own daughters!!!"

“Shut your fucking mouth Seer.” Adda was so close to beating the life out of the man. How many times did she have to say her case over and over? Bakura threatened her. Hurt her deeply due to that psychotic personality in him. How could she ever leave her kids with him?

"Oh, I thought I was fucked up, but compared to you? Nah." Seer managed to get his laughing under control and then got up off the bed. "I almost, almost feel sorry for you, Adda." He walked outside to the beach, feeling the sand underneath his toes. "A lonely paradise is all you have now."

“And a lonely prison is all you have. If I’m not happy, I’ll make sure you’ll never be either you prick.”

"Heh, you might keep me trapped here forever, but remember this, Adda," Seer was not going to let her get to him. Oddly enough, the tiny break of hysterics might have been what he needed to release some stress. Besides, the dream he had with the whale left him feeling optimistic of sorts. "Whether I die here or see my girls again, at least I know I have their love."

“You robbed me of that chance for twenty years. I’ll earn their love soon. And with you stuck here, you can’t stop me.”

"It's your own fault for dumping them off without a word." Seer countered. "Think that all you want, Adda. Though you're forgetting that I'm not the only one who loves Elizabeth and Alexandria."

Adda whirled on Seer, decking him hard against the face, knocking him out. She was so sick and tired of listening to his bullshit. No more. She was going to give her girls the world.

#new crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #New Adda Arc! #Captain Adda #Seer #Bakura Saibot #Revy #Liz and Lex #Borghild #Scarlet #Halvar #Final Adda Arc! #The Adult Arc #Big Drama coming!

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Ten Things I Learned from the Watchmen Movie

by Dan H

Thursday, 12 March 2009

Dan resists the urge to use a variant of “Who Watches the Watchmen” for his title.~

This was going to be a longer article, but I actually don't want to devote any more time to this ass-boring piece of shit.

Here's ten things I learned from watching the Watchmen (damn, I actually can't avoid using that sentence) movie.

1. I never want to see another Zack Snyder movie again. Seriously.

2. The seats in the Odeon are actually not fit for purpose.

3. When you decide not to see a movie because

one of the screenwriters is a smug twat

you should just not see it.

4. When adapting a comic book to the screen you should change the fucking dialogue. Things that look good written down just sound fucking stupid when somebody is trying to say them.

5. TV shows advertise in cinemas, how weird is that?

6. When you are adapting a comic book to the screen you should let the actors fucking move. Movies dudes – the clue is in the name.

7. When you are adapting a comic book to the screen you do not have to leave space in the shot for the speech bubbles.

8. If you get the urge to leave a cinema thirty minutes into the film, you should just leave. Particularly if you know exactly what every fucking scene will be because it does not deviate from the source material in any way.

9. Alan Moore dates really, really badly.

10. The plot of Watchmen doesn't actually make sense.

That's it. That's all the time and energy I can bring myself to expend on this.Themes:

TV & Movies

,

Watchmen

~

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

go to latest

)

Arthur B

at 09:54 on 2009-03-12On 2: Yes, definitely, they're terrible. There's no leg room, which I suppose is a vice which cinemas will always indulge in, but the lack of fucking

cup holders

is baffling. Do they

enjoy

cleaning up spillages?

On 9: Somewhat agreed. I think the film would have been more timely a few years ago, when people doing terrible things out of the fear of WMDs and Republican Presidents being cacklingly evil would have hit a bit more of a raw nerve. Even then, it would be a victim of the comic's success; pretty much everyone who writes superhero stories since

Watchmen

came out is responding to it, if only in the sense that just about everyone who writes superhero stories has read it and has an opinion (pro- or anti-, mainly pro-) on it. It changed the genre it studied, and therefore immediately became outdated.

I still think

From Hell

is the only Moore book which has a claim to timelessness. Maybe it's the fact that it's ruminating on crimes that were a century old when the book was written in the first place.

10: I think people make more of a big deal out of the plot than it really merits. (Seriously, who cares whether it's a fake alien squid or a fake blue dick that blows the cities up?) It's just a framing device which, IMO, is deliberately over-the-top and stupid because

Watchmen

is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

This does not change the fact that people are crying hot buttery tears about the squid not being in the film.

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 10:11 on 2009-03-12Watchmen is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

Really? I thought it was about comics?

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 10:31 on 2009-03-12

Really? I thought it was about comics?

I am mildly confused as to what you mean here but I'll try to answer it.

When

Watchmen

was written the superhero genre consisted of a) comics and b) adaptations from the comics. You didn't have (to my knowledge) anything like

The Incredibles

or

Soon I Will Be Invincible

or

Wild Cards

, where you have original sources for superhero stories which aren't comics.

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 10:36 on 2009-03-12What's faintly depressing is that lots of the vaguely interesting and meta things coming out of Watchmen have already been done on film (

even in CG

), and people are still going on about how Revolutionary it is.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 10:45 on 2009-03-12

The Incredibles

can't be revolutionary because nobody has their arms cut off with a circular saw.

permalink

-

go to top

Rami

at 10:46 on 2009-03-12Oh yes that's right, it's too family-friendly to be Gritty and Edgy and Totally Making You Look Differently At Life...

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 11:28 on 2009-03-12

It's just a framing device which, IMO, is deliberately over-the-top and stupid because Watchmen is a love letter to the superhero genre as well as a critique of it; the meat is in the character studies.

I dunno, I always thought that the whole "blow up the world to save the world" thing was supposed to be srs bzns. Fake Squid or Fake Blue Guy doesn't really make any difference, but I absolutely don't think it's supposed to be deliberately stupid.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 11:39 on 2009-03-12There's a man saying "What do you think I am? Some sort of supervillain?" as he wears a costume straight out of

Flash Gordon

in the middle of his Egyptian-themed fortress in the Antarctic as his genetically engineered lynx pads about, as the climax of an exchange in which he explains precisely how his scientifically ludicrous doomsday weapon fits into his epic scheme to change the world, and you think it's not intentionally silly?

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 11:50 on 2009-03-12I think it's intentionally *bathetic*.

You're missing two really important points, the first one being that the "what do you think I am, some sort of Supervillain" line is *followed* by the revelation that Ozymandias' scheme has actually worked. It's a bait-and-switch, he does the classic Villain speech in full on Villain attire in his Secret Arctic Base, but at the last second it is revealed that he has beaten the genre convention by putting his plan into action before the heroes were ready.

The second point is that Ozymandias' plan actually *works*. He genuinely does bring about world peace, and prevent the annihilation of humanity.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 12:02 on 2009-03-12But I think the point of the sequence is not to have a trite "guy who does supervillainous stuff but actually brings about a good thing" ending so much as it is meant to make a statement about the interaction of superheroes and supervillains (and to do that it needs to make sure the heroes are acting like heroes and the "villain" is acting like a wildly over-the-top villain).

The whole deal with the end of Watchmen is that it turns out Adrian was the only person acting proactively all along and everyone else was just reacting to him, just as in superhero comics in general the heroes are eternally reactive and only villains are proactive; it's the villains who are actually hoping to achieve something, and all the heroes ever try to do is get in the way of that.

But at the same time, I think in terms of the actual importance of

Watchmen

as a work the armageddon plot is one of the less significant parts. It's punchy when you read it the first time and it makes an interesting point, but it loses a lot of its impact when you know it's coming and the point it makes is kind of obvious. I liked it the first time I read the comic, but it's not the thing I

re

read the comic for - I reread it because of the character studies.

Put it this way: to my mind, you could swap out the entire armageddon story for some other MacGuffin, and

Watchmen

would still be a great book. But you couldn't lose the character studies without losing the spirit of the work. (It was originally conceived, after all, as a way for Moore to reimagine the various Charlton Comics characters that DC had acquired and introduce them to a modern audience).

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 14:41 on 2009-03-12Having given the film more thought, I've decided that I'm actually really angry about the soundtrack: whoever picked the songs was the laziest motherfucker in the world, unfailingly picking the most obvious possible choice at any point. "The Times They Are A Changin-'" during an alternate history montage is an example, but I was particularly annoyed by the use of Cohen's "Hallelujah" during a love scene - it's a great song, but hasn't the poor thing been overexposed enough as it is? Let it rest.

The most bizarre aspect of it is that in the scene in question in the comic there's a Billie Holiday track playing in the background they could have happily used, and they'd get to stroke themselves and mutter about how loyal and true they were being to the source material. In fact, there's all sorts of song suggestions in the text which are pretty much ignored, so as well as being obvious, unoriginal, and inappropriate for the period the story is set in, the soundtrack is also incongruous for being the one aspect of the film which isn't striving towards loyalty. It's a small thing but it's really aggravating when you notice it - like if you realise the violinists in a symphony orchestra aren't bothering to play along with everyone else.

permalink

-

go to top

http://fintinobrien.livejournal.com/

at 04:53 on 2009-03-13Point 3: Oh my god, Solid Snake is angry at me!

I like that Hayter talks about the "Snake fans" in the same sentence where he praises "smart" stories. Heehee, Metal Gear Solid is smart now. I must have missed the memo.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 13:18 on 2009-03-13He's actually talking about Solid Snake from the metal gear series?

To be honest, I couldn't say who *else* he'd be talking about (unless it's the dude from the Simpsons).

To be honest, it was the reference to Rorshach fans that lost me - isn't the whole point of Rorshach that he actually *isn't* cool?

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 13:23 on 2009-03-13David Hayter is the

English voice for Solid Snake.

Oh look, he's really excited by the idea of making a

Metal Gear Solid

movie! And he wants it made in CGI so he can voice Snake! Suddenly the motives behind his letter become clear...

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 14:52 on 2009-03-13Just when you thought things couldn't get any *worse.*

permalink

-

go to top

Gina Dhawa

at 17:24 on 2009-03-13@10 - I love the thing to bitty pieces and the first time I got to the ending I said "....

wha?

". I think it's a faintly ludicrous plot, but I agree with Arthur that the plot is in fact is deliberately so. Veidt is closer to the superhero mould than anyone else (except Dr Manhattan), he's already "over the top". Not only is he smart enough to be a great traditional supervillain, even his physical feats are set as outstanding in the

Watchmen

universe - that whole thing about actually catching the bullet. This is why I like that they cast Matthew Goode, who looks far too young (not to mention fairly fragile) to be the comic's Adrian, because it brings to life how much larger than life Veidt really is.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 18:15 on 2009-03-13Yeah, while Dr Manhattan is the Watchman with the most actual superpowers I think there's a case to be made that Adrian is the closest out of all of them to the superheroes of the Silver Age; he's irritatingly perfect, never really worries about where he's going to get his resources from, pulls cool powers and gadgets out of his arse at a moment's notice and he never, ever, ever doubts himself for a second.

You could almost imagine him having Stan Lee's voice in his head breathlessly narrating all of his actions. DON'T MISS THE NEXT RIP-ROARING INSTALLMENT OF OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS, AS OUR HERCULEAN HIEROPHANT BATTLES THE MUCK-RAKING MILKSOPS AT THE NEW FRONTIERSMAN!

permalink

-

go to top

http://fintinobrien.livejournal.com/

at 04:00 on 2009-03-14

To be honest, it was the reference to Rorshach fans that lost me - isn't the whole point of Rorshach that he actually *isn't* cool?

Considering Hayter's draft for the script had Dreiberg killing Adrian because "it's what Rorschach would have done" I think Hayter missed that point. Actually, the idea that Rorschach is meant to be held up as an inspiration disturbs more than I'd like to go into.

permalink

-

go to top

Wardog

at 10:51 on 2009-03-14God yes - you're absolutely right.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 13:10 on 2009-03-14Alan Moore has actually read Hayter's draft of the script - he said it was pretty close to the comic, but he still objected on the grounds that he thinks direct adaptations of comic books are a bad idea on principle. He's also mentioned being worried that Snyder would treat Rorschach as a heroic figure, considering his treatment of

300

; I don't know whether that worry came from reading Hayter's script, but I certainly don't think it would have been alleviated by it.

Still, the actor who plays Rorschach in the film does a good job of coming across as a psychopath, so at least

he

understands.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 11:14 on 2009-03-18So, David Hayter wanted everyone to go see

Watchmen

on the second weekend to make sure the film's earnings didn't collapse.

Well, an

approximately 70% drop

is

not really what he was hoping for

. Snake won't be pleased.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 15:17 on 2009-03-18♪♪ It's ... Schaaaa-denfreude. Making the world a better place to beee.... ♪♪

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 11:11 on 2009-03-25More schadenfreude:

Watchmen

performed

absolutely miserably

in its third weekend, and there's a growing consensus that, whatever its merits, it's a financial dud.

Of course, this means that Zack Snyder won't be able to find work in Hollywood ever ag

WAIT WHAT THE-

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 16:13 on 2009-04-27Another dose of schadenfreude:

Watchmen

's

performance in the box office

seems to have been mildly worse than

Batman and Robin

's.

The consensus seems to be it's going to end up making some money on DVD sales, which is a consolation for the studio, but it's not delivered the dizzying return on investment that would have made sinking $100 million into it worthwhile.

permalink

-

go to top

http://orionsnebula.blogspot.com/

at 08:34 on 2009-12-19Charitably? I'm inclined to think whoever picked the soundtrack was trying to call attention to the very soundtrackness of it, to pull the readers out of the scene a little bit. The comic book had the Tales form the Black Freighter overlaying the action providing a similar distance/ironic commentary, and also reminded you you were in a comic by doing tricks with the layout in Manhattan's chapters and elsewhere.

I'm not defending it, I think the soundtrack mostly backfires horribly and comes across and cutesy fourth-wall breaking, but that's my guess as to the intending effect.

permalink

-

go to top

In order to post comments, you need to

log in to Ferretbrain

or

authenticate with OpenID

. Don't have an account? See the

About Us

page for more details.

Show / Hide Comments -- More in March 2009

#Ferretbrain #Watchman #Dan H

[recentanimenews]

5 Answers To Pokémon Questions That You've Always Had

  The Pokémon world is full of mysteries. Heck, most of the endings of the original anime said so, with the narrator being like "Once again, Ash learned that the Pokémon world is a mysterious one, but one thing is for sure: He'd never forget Leon and his wonderful Metapod circus." And while Ash Ketchum would immediately forget Leon and every person that wasn't currently within arm's length of him, that mystery part still holds true.

  When I was a kid, most of my life dealt with trying to sift through Pokémon urban legends, usually distributed by my friend Trevor, who would come to fifth grade telling us stuff about Pikablu and Ash's Dad like an old timey snake oil salesman who rode into Western towns on a wagon filled with "miracle elixers." Only in Trevor's case, those elixers were just torn-out pages of Nintendo Power.

But if you ever had a Trevor in your life, you probably wound up with more Pokéquestions than Pokéanswers. And that's where I come in. See, I've gathered up a few notable Pokémon questions from over the years, and I'm going to do my best to answer them here. And I'm gonna start off with something that has plagued Pokémon anime fans for nearly two decades:

  WHY WAS BROCK REPLACED BY TRACEY SKETCHIT IN THE ORANGE ISLANDS?

For most of the Indigo League portion of the Pokémon anime, Brock was a steadfast companion to Ash and Misty. Sure, he got crushes on, like, everything, but it always seemed like he'd be around. And then the crew saw Professor Ivy on Valencia Island, and all of a sudden Brock was like "The Pokémon in this lab need me more than you do, Ash! I gotta leave indefinitely" But do they, Brock? You meet attractive anime ladies who hang out with Pokémon every other day. But for some reason, this one makes you abandon your literal only friends in the world?

He's quickly replaced by Tracey Sketchit, who likes to draw Pokémon if you couldn't infer that from his last name. Tracey isn't bad, but he definitely feels like an RPG character that someone got bored making halfway through. He seems like the kind of dude that would order a sandwich and then take off all the best parts. "Yeah, could you hold the mustard, and the pickles, and the meat and actually just give me two ice cubes on a paper plate?" Tracey only lasted around thirty episodes, too, before they switched him with Brock again, much to the delight of everyone with a pulse.

So why would you suddenly replace Brock with a man whose most notable personality trait is "Wears a t-shirt"? Well, according to former Pokémon anime director and storyboard artist, it's because they were scared that Americans would think Brock was a racist stereotype due to his eyes. But then they realized that everyone liked Brock anyway and drafted him back in. So there you go. 

WHY DID THEY REMAKE POKEMON BLUE AS POKEMON LEAF GREEN?

I love the Pokémon Red/Blue remakes for the Game Boy Advance, Pokémon Fire Red and Leaf Green. The buttons on my GBA SP were practically destroyed due to the hundreds of hours that I put into them. That said, when they originally came out, I wondered why they went with Leaf Green? Didn't this one line up as a remake of Pokémon Blue? I don't mean to sound pushy BUT I WANT POKEMON TO BE THE WAY THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE AND IF YOU MESS THAT UP, I'LL GET DUMB AND MAD.

Well, in Japan, the original pair of Pokémon games was Pokémon Red and Green. But they also decided to go with Leaf Green because, according to video game producer Junichi Masuda, the leaf is a symbol of peace and it's an easy symbol to understand internationally. Also, the developers wanted to put a colorful member of the Bulbasaur family on the cover, and I totally get that. Bulbasaur is great, and anyone who disagrees is not only wrong but also probably a cannibal.

COULD YOU EVER GET MEW IN THE ORIGINAL GAMES?

Long before the number of Pokémon nearly reached 1,000, the world was stunned by the reveal of #151: Mew. Of course, Mew was hinted at in the ruined mansion in Cinnabar Island, but among my friends, it was always treated like it was folklore, like Bigfoot or a good Fantastic Four movie. And, like some folklore, there were numerous tales of sightings. Of course, you could get it with a Game Shark (For the young kids reading this, the Game Shark was an item that you could load onto your console's memory so that when you put the actual game in, you had all the cheats available to you) if you were the one dude on the block in 1998 that owned a Game Shark, but most of my friends had their own bizarre methods.

  You could also find it with a glitch, but the most famous "strategy" was locating it under the truck that's sitting near the dock in Vermillion City, around where the S.S. Anne is. This was probably the first conspiracy theory that I was ever exposed to, and man, did it not work. You can try to use Strength on that truck all day and you will never once find a Mew. So yeah, tell this to any friends who are still, twenty years later, trying to catch #151 under that automobile. Save them from their nightmare. Be their hero.

   WHO IS ASH KETCHUM'S DAD?

  We're all very familiar with Ash's Mom, a wonderful woman that only wants to hang out with Mr. Mime and remind you to pack clean underwear. But who is Ash's Dad? Is he someone that we've already met, or is Ash the product of, like, Pokémon immaculate conception where Ash is the chosen one to save the world by...walking around with his monster pals for years? Nah. It's probaby Professor Oak, or the guy in Pallet Town in the original games that's like "Technology is amazing!" That dude sounds like an interesting first date.

  But if you absolutely must know who Ash's Dad is, just know that...no one knows. One of the original writers of the Pokémon anime, Takeshi Shudo, has even said that while Ash definitely has a father, he hasn't shown up yet and "has yet to have had a true meaning." 

  So Ash's Dad isn't lurking in the background, keeping tabs on his son from afar. And that totally dashes all of my fan theories about it being Lt. Surge. It makes sense, right? He has a Raichu, Ash has a Pikachu. He...no, that Raichu thing was about it. Back to the drawing board.

   WHAT'S THE INSIDE OF A POKEBALL LIKE?

  When a Pokémon trainer has sufficiently battered a wild Pokémon using their own laser pet, they can throw a Pokeball at it and try to capture it. But aside from the ethical dilemna of throwing a round piece of metal at a defenseless animal, the biggest question is this: What's it like inside the Pokeball? What do they do in there? We know they become some type of data or energy, because you can trade Pokémon over the internet and when you let the Pokémon back out, it isn't just a crushed lump.

  Well, according to Junichi Masuda, it's a "very comfortable environment" and "Maybe the equivalent of a high end suite room in a fancy hotel." Honestly, that's the most pleasant answer that we could've gotten. I remember someone in middle school told me that once Pokémon go into their Pokeballs, it's like they get put in a temporary coma, and that's horrifying. You go unconscious until you're tossed out into the world to fight, and this process repeats until you expire? I don't like that very much. In fact, and I know I'm taking a controversial stance here, I think that sounds quite bad.

  So, there you have it. I hope I've helped in some way, and if you have any other questions, please let me know. I'll be watching Pokémon on Netflix and studying up if you need me.

  Do you have any pressing Pokémon questions and concerns? Did this list answer any of your questions? Let us know in the comments!

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

  Daniel Dockery is a writer for Crunchyroll. Be his Pika Pal on Twitter. 

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

[taffysannotatedsonichu]

Paradise By The Seashore Light (Crass And Champ’s Thang Undersea)

[sung over Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light"]

Crass remembers every little thing As if it happened only yesterday Parking by the lake and there was another- not another car (coral?) in sight And I never had a girl Looking any better than you did And all the kids at school, they were wishin' theyyy were me that night.

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight Neverrr felt sooo good neverrr felt so right And we're glowin' like the metal on the edge of a knife Glowin' like the metal on the edge of a knife C'mon. Holdin' tighhhh- tight C'mon. Hold tight

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night I can see paradise by the seashore liiight

[in a creepy falsetto]

Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed Cause we were barely seventeen And we were barely dressed

Ain't no doubt about it Baby got to go and shout it Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed

[boring monotone resumes]

Cause we were only seventeen And we were barely dressed

Champ don'cha hear my heart You got it drowning out the radio Been waiting so long For you to come along and have some fun

And I gotta let ya know No you're never gonna regret it So open up your eyes I got a big surprise It'll feel all right I wanna make your- oh sharks! (?)

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight It never felt so good, it never felt so right And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

C'mon! Hold tight! C'mon! Hold on tight!

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night I can see paradise by the seashore light [mumbles]

You got to do what you can And let Mother Nature do the rest Ain't no doubt about it We were doubly blessed

Cause we were barely seventeen And we were barely--

We're gonna go all the way tonight We're gonna go all the way..

[loses track of song and starts mumbling]

..tonight.. ..all the way tonight..

[song skips]

[in falsetto again]

Stop right there! I gotta know right now! Before we go any further!

Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my liiife? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?

Do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me ha-ppy the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife? I gotta know right now Crass! Before we go any further Do you love me? Will you love me forever?

[monotone]

CHAAAMP!

CHAMP!

Let me sleep on it Champ, Champ let me sleep on it And I'll derp derp derp (?) And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it Champ, Champ let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it Chaaamp, Champ let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you an answer in the morniiing

[falsetto]

CRASS! ...know right now! Do you love a-me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife? I gotta know right now, Crass! Before we go any further Do you love me? Love me forever?

[monotone]

CHAAMP?

Champ?

Ch- [mumbles in his falsetto]

Champ?

Sleep on it Champ, Champ let me sleep on it Let me sleep on it And I'll give you an answer in the morning

[falsetto]

I GOT TO KNOW RIGHT NOW!

[monotone]

Let me sleep on it!

[alternates between falsetto and monotone]

Will you love me forever? Let me sleep on it! Will you love me forever! Let me sleep on it AND I'LL GIVE YOU AN ANSWER, CHAMP! CHAMP!

[mumbles in a high-pitched tone to the words]

.. love mee Love me forever? ...sleep on it ...love me forever? Let me sleep on it! Will you love me forever?

Let me sleep- [mumbles] And when the feeling came upon me Like a tidal wave I started swearing to my God and on my mother's grave That I would love you to the end of time I swore that then end- I would love you to the end of time!

So now I'm praying for the end of time To hurry up and arrive Cause if I gotta spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive

I'll never break a promise or forget my vow But God only knows what I can do right now I'm praying for the end of time It's all that I can do Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you... Champ!

[mumbles in a low tone, then switches to a high tone. Sounds like he's saying "beep beep beep!"]

[falsetto]

..edge of a knife Glowing like a metal on the edge of a knife (x5) Glowing like a metal on... [mumbles] ...edge of a knife ...edge of a knife

Here, Meat Loaf’s famous “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is given the C&THB treatment, much to its detriment. Apparently, according to the album’s intended audience, Ivy, this was one of the last of the songs off of COMEBACK that Chris wrote or recorded. Why Chris would choose to do such a long song for something he was just slapping together at the end of the album is puzzling. Like “Wuthering Heights”, “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is not a song for the faint of heart. At its longest it’s eight minutes long and has multiple sections that vary wildly. While I appreciate Chris’s attempts to be musically diverse on this album, attempting rap, disco, art rock, and even a little rock and roll, none of these are genres Chris shows any competency at. Apparently Ivy had some say in the songs, so she might be responsible for the wide array of songs on the album (though Sparkle Like You Mean It, while not as diverse as COMEBACK, at least strays into more eclectic territory than the first album).

After “(Clyde’s) Trollsta’s Paradise”, this is the second song off this album to not be about Ivy, rather, her two pet hermit crabs, Crass and Champ. As previously mentioned, both crabs were male, much like the trolls they were named after, but Chris got it into his head that Champ was in fact a female, so Chris assigns the male part of this song to Crass and the female part to Champ. Most of the very few lines Chris changes from the original version are to identify the singers as such, the other scattered changes attempt to paint an aquatic picture of the scene, such as the title change (what is a “seashore light”, anyway?) Looking through the leaked documents of Chris’s lyrical changes, “Paradise by the Seashore Light” is conspicuously absent, the only song that wasn’t a cover to not have a sheet detailing the lyrical changes, indicating how slight said changes were.

Here Chris tries to sing a duet on his own, and now’s as good a chance as ever to discuss his inability to differentiate voices. The men’s part is his normal singing voice and the women’s part is a shrill falsetto, and the parts he can’t assign or parts they both sing he mumbles.

I suppose he at least understands his source material somewhat better - recall that the plot of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” ends with the girl refusing to sleep with the boy until he promises to love her till the end of time, which overcome with desire he does on an impulse, then the story cuts to years down the line where they regret every minute of their relationship after that point, where they’re praying for the end of time to end the vow that they would love each other till the end of time. He at least had the sense to give the song to their comical beta couple Crass and Champ and not have it be about him and Ivy.

Chris cuts the entire famous Phil Rizzuto baseball metaphor section, either because he didn’t have a third voice on him to do for it, or he thought that the baseball metaphor wouldn’t fit in with the underwater theme, or he didn’t get the baseball equaling sex, or he just wanted to save time (he does shave a minute off the song, but it’s still seven and a half minutes long).

#cwc music #Christian and the hedgehog boys #COMEBACK! #Paradise By the Seashore Light

[swankymikehanlon-blog]

The Losers: Always and Forever

Chapter One  Chapter Two(Part One)  Chapter Two(Part Two)

7 teenagers, of different high school backgrounds, would rather die than become a breakfast club 2.0. At least, that was the thought initially.

Words: 37,693

Warnings: None

Chapter 3: I Still Believe

Tuesday, September 26, 10:23 a.m

“STANLEY MOTHERFUCKING URIS!” 

Stan’s head banged the desk above him and small muffled groan fell from his lips. Richie Tozier strolled into the vacant classroom, boots clanking along the worn down marble. Stan got out from under the desk, rubbing his temple as he glared at Richie. 

“So, what were you doing under the table, giving ghost head?” Richie jumped up on the desk in front of Stan, randomly pulling out an apple from the chest pocket of his jacket and taking an obnoxiously loud bite. His feet kicked the air, closely to Stan’s face in a teasing manner.

“No, I was looking for something.” Stan got up from the floor, tucking the chair back in it’s place. Richie took another bite as Stan leaned against the opposite table.

“So I’m guessing this is our new place since we can’t continue our rituals behind the school.” Richie propelled himself off the desk as he hurled the apple into the black trashcan the sat next to the open door. He strolled to the whiteboard, picking up a blue marker and began to write more than inappropriate things on the board. 

Stan snorted as he stood next to Richie. His fingers draped over the metal bar which held more markers. Since the door was open, the thought of any authority walking in paranoid the shit out of Stan.

“Hey Stan, look it’s your dick!” Stan’s attention was drawn towards the doodle of a small limp ‘Rick and Morty’ pickle. Stan rolled his eyes as he rubbed his palm over the drawing, smudging it completely.

“My masterpiece.” Richie’s shoulders shrugged, dramatically, as Stan took the marker and drew the sketch of an odd...duck...with glassess?

“If that’s supposed to be me, I’m not even mad about it.” Stan smiled as he gave the duck a leather jacket.

“So are you gonna wear glasses from now on or are you just getting paid to look the opposite of cool?” Richie mocked a shocked expression and released a surprised scoff. Stan stepped back from his masterpiece and admired it, complimenting himself on the detail he put into the jacket, placing the pins of Richie’s jacket into their respective places.

“Everyday, I get prouder and prouder of you, my prodigy.” Richie put his hand in the air and waited for a high five that would come after a few minutes of awkward silence. They both sat there, reading the amount of profanity that was written on the board, courtesy of Richie’s creative hand. 

“I got detention again.” Stan’s face palm echoed through the classroom and made Richie scrunch his face.

Tuesday, September 26, 10:30 a.m

Ben had a hop in his step, a bright glow on his cheeks as he walked down the mildly crowded hallway. There wasn’t a particular pinpoint of his sudden burst of happiness but it seemed to spread to everyone as he greeted them with a toothy grin. His face was beaming with something Derry High, Derry in general, hadn’t seen in a while. True happiness. As he walked past the gym he heard a faint whistle and soft rumbles of bodies whacking the floor. Ben stopped, curiosity and concern molding his facial features as he looked through the door window. 

Inside the gym there was a group of boys and the P.E teacher. Two boys were fighting each other on a thick mat, as the others watched with studying eyes. Ben absentmindedly opened the gym door and walked in, now a few feet away from the commotion. He only realized he was in the gym when Mr. DeVou snapped his fingers.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” Ben swallowed the lump in his throat shock and confusion coating his face. The rest of the boys looked at him weirdly and Ben felt a blush rise over his cheeks. 

“Oh, um, I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t-”

“Do you wanna try out?” Ben looked at Mr. DeVou with even more confusion. He didn’t even know what he was doing here, let alone something like ‘try out’. 

“Try out what? Sir...” Ben pressed his fingers into the straps of his backpack, anxiety creeping up his spine. He tried not to notice the whispers coming from the boys standing behind Mr. DeVou but the way they looked at each other and at him with apparent discuss made him want to jump out a window.

“Well, this is Wrestling tryout’s son, you wanna try?” Ben opened his mouth in an an ‘O’ shape as he puzzled the pieces together. The mat plus two boys fighting each other made sense. But Ben grew hot in the open gym and excused himself, leaving a snickering group of boys and a disappointing Mr. DeVou. Ben came out of the gym with a grim face. He came into school happy, glad to be there, now all he wanted to was cry in his bed. 

He walked to the bathroom where the insecurities got the best of him. His face was beet root red, tears streaming down the sides of his face. He didn’t know why he was so emotional. Like his happiness, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin. Maybe it was the whispers, the looks, the secret pointing at the gut the spilled over the khaki shorts he wore. Maybe it was all three, and maybe the main reason was because he was just Ben. Ben Hanscom, the fat-ass that roams the halls looking for love like the Hunch-Back of Notre-Dam. He hated the names and taunts that had been giving to him. He hated that he agreed with them even more. 

Tuesday, September 26, 11:00 a.m

 Mike picked at his lunch, ham sandwich looking ever so appetizing. His friends laughed at some stupid joke someone had told. They all sat at one table, even though their where only six chairs, some sacrificed their legs and ate standing up. Mike had never had to sand up, he’d kill them if they made him.  After all, he is their captain, and everything he says, they do. But lately, Mike wasn’t feeling his whole roll as the self-entitled jock that everyone thought he was.

“Mikey, you haven’t spoke one word today, you doing alright?” Kenny, a guy straight out of ‘Grease’ the movie said through a mouthful of overly chewed food. Mike rolled his eyes as Kenny giggled, spewing a few chucks of mystery meat on the table.

“Gross, Kenny.” 

“Anyway, Mike, you sure you okay, I mean you barely touched your food.” Chris nudged Mike’s leg with his own as he pointed to the stale tray of sopposedly edible food.

“I never eat the ham sandwiches, and I’m a vegan, remember.” Mike flicked a piece of ham at Kenny’s face but it was deflected by his hand. His friends dismissed the topic as they started talking about Friday’s game. They were going to go up against a school called Hawkins High, a high school that wasn’t even in their district. Mike heard they were good, but not as good as his team.

“We’re totally gonna pawn their asses!” Kenny managed to scruff even more food down as he fist pumped the table. Hoots and hollers erupted from the rowdy football players as they continued to eat. Mike drifted out from the conversation, cafeteria tray pushed away completely as his looked over his healing fist. 

They were purple and blue, discoloration around the outlines of his knuckles and did in fact hurt like a bitch. He had to be delicate with his hands for however long, which was difficult since football required your hands for everything. As he toyed felt the mismatching colors Eddie walked into the cafeteria with a metal lunch box in hand. His small footsteps would sound like pin drops if the room was silent, but for now they were just one of the many sounds of lunch B.

He passed by Mike’s table, heart beat picking up Mike watched him. It felt like forever when he got to the empty table. Sure enough his face was red, hands definitely a little clammy. Even though Bill rarely talked all Eddie wanted was for Bill to be sitting right in front of him, engaging in the comfortable silence of eating lunch.

Eddie opened his lunch box, taking out a container filled with fruit and opened it, odor of mandarins filling the air and wafting into his nose. He hadn’t notice that someone had finally sat in front of him, watching him eat the baby oranges with content. 

“Hey Eds.” 

Eddie chocked on one mandarin, citrus hitting the back of his throat and burning. Eddie slammed his fork down, startling himself and Mike in the process. Mike reached over to pat Eddie’s shoulder but Eddie leaned back, almost falling over the stool that he sat on.

“Mi-MIKE! H-HI!” Eddie’s voice was unnecessarily loud and high which made Mike chuckle. Eddie felt tears gather in his eyes, due to the burning sensation of his throat and because he just choked on a fucking mandarin in front of Mike Hanlon. Mike waited moments, hands plunged in the pockets of his varsity jacket, smile plastered on his attractive features.

“I have a question, If that’s fine with you...” Rather than ask what the whole ordeal that just occurred, Mike changed the subject, which Eddie was grateful for. Eddie nodded his head for Mike to go on, throat recovering from the brutal assault of the harsh juice. It was most likely going to be sore for a little while but Eddie didn’t really pay mind to that. He somehow turned off the switch that helped him listen and dumbly stared at Mike’s mouth, specifically the way they moved slow then fast all in one second.

“So are you?” Eddie blinked, unsure of Mike just asked. They slowly opened, wide, once Eddie realized Mike was asking him something very important. On a whim Eddie said ‘Sure’. Mike’s mouth broke into a full grin, teeth and all as he stood up. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up after my game, unless you wanna come see? Or did you already plan to go?” Eddie was 100% confused. What just happened, why was Mike gonna pick him up, he doesn’t go to football games, what is happening. 

“Um, pick me up?...”

“Great, do you mind if I get your number, I can send you the details.” Mike walked over to Eddie’s side and pulled out his phone. It was cased in a protective phone case, color black with gold accents around the rim of the camera. Eddie was in a haze, still confused and plane out bewildered when he stated his number out of the blue.

“Cool. Can’t wait for Friday.” Mike smiled once more before he joined his friends in the middle of cafeteria and disappeared in the heap of large boys. Eddie let out a huge gust of air that he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. Did he just get asked on a date. They only logical thing that made sense for ‘I’ll pick you up after my game’ was a date. Eddie’s mood quickly went through the five stages of grief, but all stages were denial.

Once Mike was back at his table, Kenny and Chris hyped him up, asking questions and making kissy noises.

“MIKEY BOY’S GOT A CRUSH! HE’S IN LOVE-”

“Can it Kenny.” Mike took a hold of Chris’s water bottle and took a gigantic gulp, before throwing it at Kenny’s temple. 

“For a nice guy Hanlon, you sure do love throwing stuff.”

Tuesday, September 26, 12:57 p.m

Beverly was bored out of her mind. Her class had a substitute, an old lady who seemed to always forgot what grade she was teaching and somehow the year they were in. Luckily the substitute plans were basically to watch the rest of the documentary over human evolution they had began long time ago. It was obvious no one was paying attention, by the tired look son their faces or the direction of their eyes towards their laps indicated that they didn’t care. It went the same for Bev, though she wasn’t tired nor typing away at her phone. She was rather tapping her nails on the wooden desk, music from deep inside her head drowning out the audio of the documentary.

It was one of her favorites, the only song that seemed to play at Ophelia’s when she worked. Oh yes, Ophelia’s, the hidden dinning gem in downtown Derry. Yesterday, her first shift of the week had took a turn, for the better. Mike Hanlon had randomly walked in fro directions but simply stepped for one of the best vegan burgers. It was a surprise to see another teenager in the dinner, rarely had a younger person like Beverly walked in. Initially Mike hadn’t walked in for food, but he did leave with some, ordering another vegan burger to go. 

She recalls talking about this week’s game against Hawkins High, a school that had only been mentioned to her once, through a friend from middle school. Jenny? Jene? June? Something that started with a J, she knew that for sure.

As the substitute snores filled the classroom, Beverly’s stomach grumbled, roaring like Godzilla in her ears. She had eaten lunch, if you count peanuts and a Dr Pepper as food. But that had always been the lunch she took, either that, or bags filled with protein nuts or granola bars. She hadn’t always been fond of eating lunch, weird, yes, but she had been a dinner person. Always having at least three plates full of food for herself, curtosey of Ophelia’s employee discount. Discount meaning completely free. It was quite a curios thing that Beverly never seemed to gain weight after eating three greasy hamburgers. 

Maybe she burned it off during gym, running those miles every Thursday did help. She had always been a fast runner, always ahead of everyone in her class, surprising most of the jerks in there. She’s outraced a couple of them more than once, shutting them up for a good while. There’s a group of girls in the class that praise her every time she does and it really shocks her to realize she has a mini fan club. Once she was asked to sign a girls ‘Equal Right’s’ shirt. She gladly did, commenting on the amazing shirt as well. The bell rung, dismissing her out of her own thoughts, forcing her to get up and stretch out the uncomfortable build up in her spine.

Walking out of the class, she fell in step with students, brushing against speeding freshmen to get to their classes. She didn’t have a third period, credits practically achieved all in her junior year, so when the warning bell sounded, she wasn’t alarmed. Walking pass the library she caught site of someone who looked very familiar. Ben sat in the middle desk, alone, as he skimmed over a rustic looking book. He looked calm, at peace. Staring at him for a second longer, Beverly contemplated going into the library but decided against it as she caught sight of Richie exiting the school through the back doors.

“Hey Rich!” Beverly followed after Richie as they made it outside. Richie skidded to a stop as he turned around and greeted Beverly with a solemn smile. He uttered a ‘hey’ and turned around again, making his way around the building. Beverly sighed, feeling obligated to follow Richie, though at the moment Richie wanted her to be anyone else. 

“Where ya’goin?” Beverly watched as Richie shuffled onto his motorcycle. Classic Richie. 

“To bang your sister.” Beverly rolled her eyes, internally cheesing at the joke Richie made, jokes which he usually made. For the moment, it seemed Richie didn’t hold any resentment towards her and she felt glad, but she knew Richie was hurting. Every sad smile directed towards her, ever shift of eyes she was around, it was clear she hurt Richie. Right in the heart.

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” Beverly stood closer to Richie now, happiness growing larger now. Richie noticed the closeness and started the engine, fist gripping the break hard, feet digging into the pavement.

“Listen Bev, I know all we had was F.W.B, but I don’t think I’m ready to talk one on one like friends, okay. See you around.” Richie sped away, right in front of Beverly, stabbing the small amount of happiness that radiated through her once full heart. ‘That was a complete bust’. She spoke out loud to no one but herself. She didn’t want to blame herself, she really didn’t but in all honesty the reason she felt like crap was because she ended things like it was crap. Her and Richie weren’t crap, they weren’t even close to it. Although it had been a physical relationship only, Beverly knows that it was the closest thing to intimate Richie had gotten in a while. And to end it out of the blue made her feel like the worst kind of human being. 

Leaning against the brick wall, she popped a piece of bubble gum into her mouth, feeling the rays of heat from the sun hit her freckled face. She stood there for a moment, tasting the flavor of rich bubblegum before walking back inside. 

Tuesday, September 26, 2:03 p.m

Bill sat on the stool, paint brush carefully sweeping across the canvas with a light blue streak. He was thinking, carefully, tongue etched on the outskirts of his mouth, so gently as he pressed into the canvas and let go. It caused a drip effect, exactly what he wanted. Well, what he wanted at the moment, he couldn’t really tell where his painting would go. Right now it could turn into an ocean, with waves that ripple like marbles over a glossy floor. Or he could paint a brisk morning in the woods with snow covering each and individual tree. 

He hadn’t decided what he was doing, he never did. It was always improve with his paintings, whatever music played or whatever he felt would guide him to create masterpieces. He had a headphone in one ear and a paintbrush in the other. The clear palette hung around his thumb and laid on his forearm as he took the white paint and smeared it with the blue, creating a milky soft sky color. He switched the paint brush in his hand to the one from his hear and began highlighting the edges of the canvas. 

It was his free period, but he wasn’t alone, many other art seniors came into the room and painted, speaking to no one. He had been coming here since freshman year, being intimidated by the skilled seniors from the time. But having a detailed and creative hand from a young age earned him respect. Today it had been lonelier than usual, it was just him and two other students, who got their things and left, now only leaving Bill in the quiet classroom. 

The canvas now covered in thin and thick lines of soft blue, inking the first draft of his painting. He made the choice of painting snow as he dipped his paint brush in the white and creating the outline of clumps of snow. His dominant hand had freckled of paint scattered everywhere, as well as his overalls. His overalls had already been stained countless of times by many primary colors, but now it was painted with light blue dots. He only noticed he got some on his face when someone spoke to him.

“You have some on your face.” The voice scared Bill, making him almost drop the palette on the floor. It was Stan, an amused expression on his face. Bill looked at Stan for a solid minute before looking away, shyly as he put the brush down and tried to brush the drying paint off. Stan lifted his hand, feeling it freeze int he middle of the air, slowly going back to it’s place besides his thigh, but he found himself reach over and rubbing the paint off. He noticed the reddening of Bill’s soft cheeks, imagining his own cheeks, as he pulled his hand away. Stan felt what he just did was stupid, hating himself for making the gesture of rubbing paint off of a boy’s face.

“Uh, Bye.” Stan exited the classroom, leaving a confused, but in love intrigued Bill. His face felt hot, especially the spot where Stan’s cold hands touched. He trashed the painting he was working on before Stan came in and began to paint the figure of a boy. He had curly hair, and a face of an angel. It seemed to only be minutes for his artwork to be finished. It was full of colors, reds, blues, oranges, yellows, you name it. He drew a literal angel that resembled a boy too much. He sat there, admiring the work that seemed to come to life every time he moved. He memorized every detail that found its way on the canvas and fell in love. He drew Stan, a boy he had just met. He drew a boy he really liked. 

Tuesday, September 26, 3:23 p.m

Mike hated that this particular day was hotter than hell. He also hated the fact that some dumbass got the whole team in trouble. Currently they were being punished, running suicides down and back the field. The worst running exercise activity ever, don’t even try to argue. His feet burned through the fabric of his Nike’s, toes digging in the tip of the shoes. He was one of the few left that kept going, most of them throwing up last night’s dinner on the grassy ground. 

He continued, used to the extreme punishment ordered by Coach. He was almost done, final run just a few feet away. Coach’s whistle blew and Mike felt his feet trip over themselves, causing him to fall to the ground. Laughs came from the sidelines, Kenny’s obnoxious laugh making Mike’s ears bleed.

“HANLON IS DOWN FOR THE COUNT!” Chris runs over and lays on the ground next to Mike and pretends to do a referee slam. Mike playfully kicks at Chris’s side as he gets up and rubs the grass off his shirt. Coach laughs as they jog back, others following suit. 

“Boys, what do we have this we-”

“HAWKIN’S GONNA GT THEY’ASSES BEAT!” Kenny jumps on another players his, piggy back riding him as others yell in agreement. Coach only sighed and nodded as he folded his arms around each other. Mike smirked as Kenny jumped on another unsuspecting person, pulling both of them down.

“Jesus, Kenny, can you not be a total Alex for a second?” Alex was a senior that used to go to Derry. He was basically Kenny but 10x worse. He was the class clown, everyone either loved him or hated him, there was no in between. Mike remembered the rivalry between Kenny and Alex in junior year to be the funniest, attention hog of the school. So when Alex’s father got moved to Minnesota, of all places, for a job offer, Kenny declared himself the winner. 

“Yes, we are, but doesn’t mean there work won’t be done.” Everyone including Mike groaned but listened to what else coach had to say. Mike drifted off to another place though. Earlier at Lunch he had asked Eddie to a movie. It really wasn’t his intention, he only wanted to ask how Eddie’s day was going. But when Eddie looked like he was in his own little world, Mike got a chance to look at all the little things he hadn’t seen before. How he had faint freckles under his eyes, lips had lines that resembled tree ringlets due to dryness. But he also noticed how he really wanted to hang out with Eddie, outside of school. So the words came out of his mouth before he could stop.

“So you and Eddie huh?” Chris wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulders, leading them to the locker room. Mike snorted as he opened the door and let himself in. 

“It’s not a date.” Mike made his way to his locker as Chris followed, in the process of mocking Mike.

“Would you like to go to the movies with me? It’ll be totally platonic, I’ll only stare at your lips and think of your neck as the good part of the movie starts.” Chris imitated Mike, spot on. Mike took off his shirt and threw it at Chris who laughed as he caught it. 

“So what, he’s cute. Doesn’t mean I wanna get in his pants.” Mike opened his locker and took out deodorant.

“Hold on, is that woman’s deodorant?” 

“It smells nice okay.” Mike took out his regular school shirt and put it in as Chris walked away, throwing the workout shirt into the locker over his head. It wasn’t a date, no way. Mike was just being nice, Eddie was a cool person, sweet, charismatic, kind... 

“Shit.” 

It was a date. He concluded that as he walked out and typed the information out in text. He sent it with out a thought, eyes bulging at the comment he added;

Wear whatever you’d like, you look great in everything ;)

What kind of text message was that. Mike wanted to punch himself in the face. This was now definitely a date, the winky face just confirmed it. As if his presence didn’t give Eddie a heart attack the text would. Well, now that the deed had been done, all that was left was to go through with it. 

Tuesday, September 26, 3:59 p.m

“Listen man, cut me some slack, you know I’m not a bad kid.” Richie stood against the gas station counter, hands pressed against the newspaper covered surface. He came to the cash register, a soda and chips was all he wanted to buy. Plus a pack of of new cigs, but that was minor detail.

“You don’t have enough money to buy all three, you can either buy the chips and drink or the cigarettes.” The man behind the counter counted the money in the cash register, not really paying attention to Richie’s slik hand. Pretending to yawn, Richie reached behind his head and into his shirt, dropping the pack of cigarettes along his spine and to the crack of ass. Thank god his shirt was tucked in, otherwise the cigarettes would have fallen straight to the floor.

“You know what, fine, I’ll take the ships and soda.” Richie pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to the man, grimacing when it was yanked away from his hand. Smiling a smile too sweet, Richie walked out quickly, relieved when the usual alarms didn’t go off. OPening the soda, he took a sip, nodding his head to a song he began to sing. 

“Oh, I still believe.” Mimicking the instrumental saxophone part in Tim Capello’s iconic song ‘I Still Believe’. Now standing in front of his motorcycle, Richie placed the soda on the seat and dug out the cartoon box from his shirt. 

“We need all the hope. WE CAN GET!” Richie belted out, shame just a word to him. He didn’t care that people stared at him as they filled their cars with gas. He actually pointed to them as he sang the verse over and over again, scaring a couple of them as he voiced a saxophone yet again. Drinking the soda in one go, he let out a loud burp and stuffed the chips in his pocket jacket before starting his motorcycle and driving home. 

His house was empty, parents gone, off to work or off to an affair. Most likely the second one, Richie has seen hickies on his parents necks before and he knew for a fact that they didn’t give them to each other. But he didn’t really care, nothing would be different, he already lived alone. Throwing the cigarettes across the kitchen counter he took off his boots, struggling a little bit, but sighing as he free his feet. Plugging his phone into the kitchen speaker, he played his music, blasting it through the house. It was Gorrilaz, bass acting as if there was a party. 

Drumming along, he walked over to the living room, picking up random laundry here and there. Going to the laundry room he threw them in a basket that was over-filled with dirty clothes, mostly Richie’s. He rolled his eyes, remembering that he had to do the laundry soon because no one else ever did. The song changed so something he hadn’t ever heard of but quickly loved it as it played longer. Toying with the pins on his jacket, Richie walked back to the kitchen and pressed his torso against the flat, cold, surface of the island. His face was cooled by it and he slowly fell asleep. 

Tuesday, September 26, 4:15 p.m

Ben was the last out of his class, second to last being some random girl who fell asleep and was only awoken when Ben nudged her. She muttered a thank you as she walked out of class, slightly still out of it. Ben said goodbye to Mrs. Kepp and walked the empty halls. The students of Derry high always seemed to lave school quickly, never made an effort to stay and chat with friends. As Ben was reaching the door to freedom, Mr. DeVou spoke up from out of the blue.

“Ben!” He turned around to see Mr. DeVou walking towards him with excitement. Ben sighed, ready to be told off from what happened earlier in the day.

“So you wanna try out for the team?”

“The what sir?” Ben wasn’t expecting what Mr. DeVou had asked. He was obviously talking about the wrestling team but the question shocked Ben to no end. Mr. DeVou? Wants someone like Ben? To wrestle? What kind of universe-

“Yeah, you seem like you’d be a good fit!” Ben looked at Mr. DeVou with a questioning brow. Ben thought about it, wrestling did sound fun. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought it was a bad idea.

“Oh Mr. DeVou, i don’t think I’d be good-”

“You never know son, not unless you try. The next tryout is Thursday, will I see you there?” Mr. DeVou said in a voice that only meant ‘Be There or else’. With a single sigh Ben said ‘Sure’ and was left in the hallway alone. He now sat in the drivers seat of his jeep, engine on, hands clasped around the wheel, yet the car hadn’t moved for a complete ten minutes.

“What did I get myself into.” Ben dropped his head on the steering wheel, temple hitting the middle of the wheel, a honk following. His head stayed there for a good minute before he pulled out the driveway and drove home.

Tuesday, September 26, 4:30 p.m

Beverly turned on her closet lite, kicking off her shoes and unbuttoning her jeans. Yawning, she un-tucked her collared shirt and hung it up, grabbing her work outfit. Shrugging her jeans off, she sat on her bed, feeling of tiredness reaching her eyes. Her shift didn’t start until 5:30, but Ophelia’s was nearly 20 minutes away and there was always traffic around five so she technically had to leave around 4:50. There was always a bus that dropped off after school activities kids and it would take her to Ophelia’s since it was on the way of their bus drop off.

Pulling on her outfit, she went over to her vanity and touched up her face. Picking a light red she applied it to her chapped lips, accidentally over lining her natural lips. Fixing it with her pinkie her phone buzzed. She picked it up, smiling at her friends text.

Wanna go to Friday’s game and make fun of Hawkins?

She typed back a thumbs up emoji and finished checking herself out in the mirror. Taking out her wallet from her bag she attached a leather piece of string around the punched in metal hole to make a make-shift wristlet. Running a hand through her short hair she jumped down the stairs, putting on her heels that laid on the last step. 

She heard the engine of her father’s rickety car and felt her shoulders drop down. She tried to make her way to the front without having to interact with him but he mt her at the door.

“Hello Bevvy.” His voice was low, smelled like complete shit and beer. She had to refrain herself from clamping her nose with her fingers.

“Hi dad. I’m on my way to work, I’m gonna be late.” Thinking he was going to grab her arm she quickly walked down the street and stood by the pole, hiding herself from her father’s stare. She wasn’t sure if her father still stood outside but she didn’t care as the bus strolled up and released the kids of the street. If he was watching her he should have lost her in the crowd of kids. Sitting in the farthest seat down from the driver she made eye contact with her father, who was still standing outside. Sinking into her seat she closed her eyes and waited to be taken to Ophelia’s. 

Tuesday, September 26, 5:10 p.m 

Bill took the painting home, hiding it from his parents as he passed them on his way to his room. He would die if they saw what he had drew, the way the lips of Stan were drawn so delicate, or the flowers in his hair. It may just be a painting, but his parents were very observant. Bill wasn’t ready for them to question him yet. Gerogie followed, asking what it was, repiditley.

“What’ya paint, what’ya paint, what’ya paint-”

“Georgie.”  Bill laid the painting on his bed, making sure Georgie would go up and grab it. This was a daily thing, whenever Bill brought home a painting or a sketch, Georgie would pester him and try to see what he drew.

“But Bill, I wanna see!” Georgie tried to slap Bill’s hand out of the way but Bill was faster and picked him up off the ground before he could. 

“Nice t-t-try, but n-no.” Bill carried Georgie into his room, throwing him onto the plush bed filled of stuff animals. Bill walked out, accidentally stepping on a lego turtle and yelling in pain. Georgie zoomed passed him and onto Bills bed. Bill raced behind him but was too late and was mortified to see Georgie staring at the painting of Stan. Bill closed his room door, hands out in front of him to brace them against Georgie’s mouth if he outed him.

“He’s beautiful.” Georgie angled his head to get a better look and all Bill could do was sigh. Taking a hold of the painting ge opened the closet and placed it deep in the corners of it, where other personal drawings laid dormant.

“You cant tell mom or dad.” Bill walked over to his bed and fell down on the comforter along with Georgie who found his way on top of Bill’s chest. With a small voice Georgie asked “Why not?”

“Because th-they don’t l-l-like it when I d-d-draw stuff like th-that.” Bill suddenly got sad, overwhelming sensation of his parents finding the painting plaguing his mind. Georgie lifted his head and looked at Bill directly in his eyes. Georgie’s eyes held wonder, curiosity, acceptance. Something his parent’s eyes didn’t hold.

“How can they not like something so beautiful?” Georgie now sat up, arms crossed over each other in slight frustration. Bill smiled sadly and pulled Georgie to lay next to him. Waiting a moment, trying to come up with a good response he shrugged and said 

“I d-d-don’t know Georgie. Georgie, I don’t know.” Bill caressed the side of Georgie’s face as they laid there in peaceful silence. 

Tuesday, September 26, 6:30 p.m

Stan ate in silence, the only sound he made was technically not even him, it was the clanking of his spoon on the dinner plate. His mother and father ate in silence as well, occasionally looking at each other and looking away. This was the only constant thing his family did. Eat in silence and act like their family is the perfect, normal family. They weren’t, they weren’t even a family. They just happened to three people living under the same household. Sometimes Stan thought his parents were divorced and lived under the same roof for the sake of him. But it always hurt him to know that they chose to live like this. They chose to live hostile, cold.

“Have you been practicing Stan?” His father cut deep into the rotisserie chicken his mother had bought at the store yesterday. Hey ate one piece, scuffing it down with a drink of cranberry juice, Stan’s least favorite drink. His mother finished her salad, something she always did before she engaged in her actual meal. Stan nodded, slowly, hoping to convince the man of the house. He hadn’t been practicing, he couldn’t recall the last time he opened the thick Torah. His father didn’t say anything more and went back to the eating, fork stabbing the plate entirely now. 

“I’m not that hungry anymore, and I have a lot of homework, may I be excused?” Stan let go of his utensils, skidding the chair out from under the table. He waited for his parent’s approval and got up when his father nodded. He nodded, showing a sign of respect towards him and gave his mother a chaste kiss on the temple. She didn’t react, she never does, and continued to eat corn off the plate in dainty bites. Opening his bedroom door was like opening the gates of the north pole. It was always so chilling in his room, the temperature never went higher than a 70. It was a miracle he never got sick. Closing the door behind him, Stan crawled on his bed and pulled out his phone. Obviously he didn’t have homework, he just needed an excuse to get away from his parents. 

Opening his phone with his thumbprint he clicked on the Spotify icon. Before he could press play on a song he noticed a blue marking on the inside of his palm. He examined it, picking carefully at the dried paint. He remembered what happened at school, how his fingers brushed over Bill’s face, transferring the solid color to his own skin, and running away as if Bill burned him. Smiling he pressed his hand to his own face, closed his eyes, and thought about the sky and its clouds. 

While Stan daydreamed, Eddie sat on his bed, crossed legged, freaking out over a text message. His mother was still working, so he was currently alone. Which in a way was better than having to explain to his mother why he was going on a date with a football player. Yes, it was a date, it was confirmed. Well the actual text message never said the four letter word, but from the winky face and the perfectly put together compliment, Eddie could tell that it was one. It was only Tuesday and Eddie had already raided his closet in search for something nice to wear. He had to admit, he never did have the best fashion sense, always either wearing shorts that seemed to short or graphic tee’s that a mother of 6 would always wear.

He finally may of found something decent, a grey sweater, really more of a cardigan, but a cover nothing less. Throwing it on his bed he searched for a shirt, deciding a simple white t-shirt would be the best. Grabbing a pair of jeans he didn’t even know he had, he tried the whole ensemble on, surprising himself with how good the outfit looked. He looked presentable, minus the frustrated style his hair wore. This was the outfit, hands down. He looked good in it, at east he thought he looked good in it. Would Mike think it look good? 

Groaning, Eddie plummeted to the bed, face hitting the sheets first. He laid there for a little bit, reminiscing on all the events that lead up to Mike asking him out to the movies. They had talked before detention, he had helped him in Chemistry before. Once, Mike helped him carry his history project to the classroom, getting a tardy slip but muttering a ‘It was worth it’ for only Eddie to hear. The longest time he and Mike ever talked was yesterday, along with the rest of the losers club. The Losers Club. What a great name, a solid, a-1 name. Lifting his head to breathe, Eddie took his phone and looked back at the text message Mike sent hours ago. He didn’t respond, to afraid to send something that would look desperate. But he did realize leaving him on read was  really rude so he typed out a ‘Great!’ and sent it without second thought. 

Right after he sent, the three grey dots appeared and went away, all in one second. Eddie paused, bile rising in his throat at the sight of Mike texting. Did he come off to strong, was the exclamation mark too much. When Eddie was about to throw his phone into the wall, Mike sent back a winky face. A. Fucking. Winky face. The whole bane of Eddie’s problems was smiling at him on a digital screen. Mike was going to kill Eddie, no doubt. But what if Eddie sent a winky face back...

Tagged: @shittystorms @asteroidbill @finnwollfhards @hazedlover @chirpchirpstanley @rose-minds 

Hey, I’m a horrible person and haven’t updated in forever. In all honesty, I was loosing inspiration in this fic, but now that I’m writing it again, It’s coming back. I’m not gonna say when the next update is because I don’t trust myself with due dates. :) 

#it 2017 #the losers club #the losers:always and forever #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stan uris #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #kasplon #hanbrak #meddie #stenbrough #benverly #beverie

[jazzviewswithcjshearn]

John Scofield: Swallow Tales (ECM, 2020)

John Scofield: guitar;  Bill Stewart: drums; Steve Swallow: bass guitar.

Steve Swallow, since the sixties has been one of the biggest innovators in the realm of the bass guitar in jazz.  In the quite narrow, problematic way the music has captured it's history using linear narrative, the lineage of electric bass in jazz would place early pioneer and brother of Wes, Monk Montgomery first, then Steve Swallow, then Stanley Clarke, Jaco Pastorius, Richard Bona and so on.  Swallow's contributions are so much bigger than what this linear narrative indicates.  He brought a lithe, agile phrasing to the bass guitar, more like a regular guitar, that freed it up from the plunking rhythmic role the instrument had previously in the music, and in pop and R&B to that time.  His composition “Falling Grace” has been a manifesto for legions of musicians, as it provided just a new approach to playing, and his compositions have provided so many musicians with interesting meat on the bone for improvising.  John Scofield, who makes his ECM leader debut with Swallow Tales revisits some of the bassist's best loved compositions with Swallow himself, and one of Sco's favorite musical companions, drummer Bill Stewart.

The guitarist who initially appeared on ECM  in 1985 as part of Marc Johnson's group Bass Desires, had been thoroughly acquainted with Swallow's compositions from the time he first played with the bassist as a 20 year old Berklee student.  The trio of Scofield/Swallow/Stewart have been old friends and musical compatriots for decades. Their union is so flawless that it makes many of these Swallow tunes that are quite challenging (from the guitarist's admission) absolutely a blast to listen to.  Stewart, in particular, because Scofield has such a rhythmic style, the drummer's trademark methods of oblique time keeping are the perfect match, and throughout Swallow is there on bass guitar every step of the way. His “She Was Young”, sung originally with Sheila Jordan's lyrics and appeared on Home (ECM, 1979) is a tender melody that the guitar states with no pretenses before getting down to improvising in a comfortable waltz time under Stewart's floating brushwork.  He uses the melody as a gentle push to spin variations in his solo, etching gently swinging lines, elegant trills, full throated chords, and octaves with the drummer picking the right moments to punctuate behind him and goad Scofield ecstatically. Swallow's solo cuts right to the core of the track with no excess, framing with melodic signposts, as if the bass is the role of the girl in the song, brimming with innocence.  After the brief melody rundown, Scofield and company really soar on the coda, as the guitarist dips a bit more into a bluesy bag, double timing and the mood getting more intense as Stewart switches to sticks, unfurling swiss triplets, the guitarist once more referencing the theme.  

“Falling Grace”, “Portsmouth Figurations”, and “Eiderdown” are significant for the fact all three tunes were featured in vibraphonist Gary Burton's book, of which the guitarist, like many of his generation was profoundly effected by in terms of innovation. “Falling Grace” is a piece that defined the straight eighth rhythmic feel in jazz, and the trio dives into the now standard tune with absolute confidence.  Stewart handles the straight eighth feeling in the half swung way that became a hallmark of the ECM aesthetiv, and dismounts into a full blown swing for the guitar solo. Scofield jabs, hooks, and weaves in and out like a boxer in reaction to the drummer's busy, provocative comping. Again, Steve Swallow in his bass solo gets right to the heart, wasting nothing.  On the knotty, angular “Portsmouth Figurations” which appeared on  Burton's seminal Duster (RCA, 1967) Scofield is so free during his solo that he even plays a couple reverse guitar lines, tongue in cheek, the backing from Swallow and Stewart is so comfortable and in the pocket, also the case on the humorously titled “Awful Coffee” an uptempo tune that Scofield slowed down here to an easy going Sunday stroll, one can almost imagine Miles Davis' First Great Quintet with John Coltrane playing this tune.  The four bar trades with Stewart are especially exciting.  “Eiderdown”, Swallow's first tune  ever written is rendered in a blazing rendition.  Scofield cooks with reckless abandon, especially following the drum solo.  The lyrical “Hullo Bolinas” slows things down a bit and features a gorgeous Swallow solo. “In F” takes harmony from what sounds like “What Is This Thing Called Love?” and the burners are on once again until the closing “Radio”,  Scofield handles the challenging harmony, gliding  on it with aplomb.

Sound:

Recorded at the James L. Dolan Recording Studio at NY, by Tyler McDarmid in March of 2019 Swallow Tales sounds marvelous.  Scofield's tart tone mainly positioned center right of the sound stage takes full advantage of the Focal Chorus 716's midrange.  There's pleasing weighty heft to Scofield's tone where his signature grunge and grit really show up on the “She Was Young” coda especially.  There's a subtle hint of reverb on the guitar that floats towards the left center that almost ssounds like reverb from the guitar amp itself.  Still, there's a bit of upper sweetness that is an ECM signature that adds an additional layer in a mostly mid heavy recording.  Bill Stewart's K Zildjian cymbals come through with their dark hues, ride mainly in the center right with toms center right and center, with high hat center left.  There's a satisfying realism to the drums here, mainly dry, but with a touch of reverb and Stewart's cross sticked rim shots have a satisfying woody chop from the stick hitting metal.  Swallow's bass is clean, and accurate, never getting in the way of the bass drum, which naturally, and recording wise, equalization can create.

Final thoughts:

John Scofield, Steve Swallow, and Bill Stewart are simply one of the finest guitar trios around, and the most impressive aspect of Swallow Tales is the rapport that they've built up over so many years. The recording is really like being a fly on the wall, hearing an intimate conversation between friends, because their trust and harmony as a unit is so strong the choice collection of 9 complex Swallow originals comes of as effortless.  Swallow's participation on this and wife Carla Bley's excellent recent Life Goes On (the subject of an upcoming review on this blog) demonstrate that not only is he one of jazz's greatest bass guitar exponents, but that his playing and cleverness of tune structure prove incredibly inspiring. In a perilous time in civilization, Swallow Tales is an album showing absolute beauty and hope for the world.

Music rating: 10/10

Sound rating: 10/10

Equipment used:

HP Pavilion laptop

Yamaha RS 202 stereo receiver

Focal Chorus 716 floor standing speakers

Software:

Windows Media Player (for digital file AIFF playback)

Note: Jazz Views with CJ Shearn will now have a more detailed sound category offering audiophile insight into recordings as part of review thanks to upgraded equipment.

Key terms:

Sound stage: The audio depiction of the placement of instruments, as if one were to go see a play and see the position of the actors/actresses on stage, when a listener closes their eyes, they can see and hear the placement of the players and instruments.  The term stereo image can also be applied.  

Stereo imaging refers to the aspect of sound recording and reproduction of stereophonic sound concerning the perceived spatial locations of the sound source(s), both laterally and in depth. (source for stereo image definition: wikipedia)

#john scofield #steve swallow #bass guitar #bill stewart #jazz guitar #ECM Records