#The birds here are pretty. Even if one of them shat on my hand and purse. Fuck that one in particular

[noctilionoidea]

it was so hard being in Galway during the international arts festival and having to watch how much I’m spending. Theres so much awesome work all over but I’ve “already made extravagant purchases on this vacation” and am “going off to college really soon so I need to save money”. Bleh

Still obviously I wasn’t getting anything unless I really wanted it I’m not a fool

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (14/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Would you look at that. The 14th chapter, which includes some fluff and general romantic feelings (and some angst, I mean, you know me), is being uploaded on Valentine’s Day. I swear I hadn’t planned any of that XD

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.3k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 14: Emma Swan and Killian Jones, June 23rd 2016

The sun has barely come out when Killian wakes up. For a moment he wonders if he dreamed the previous night, but his doubts wash away as he turns around on the couch, still in the clothes he wore the previous night. A thin sheet is on the floor next to him. He must’ve kicked it off in his sleep.

He gets up and walks to the door to his bedroom; it's half open and he can see Emma sleeping soundly on his bed. He leans on the door frame for a moment and watches her. He was too drunk the previous night for his brain to even fully register she'd come, let alone why.

Could she know? Did she figure it out too?

The lack of a headache despite his drinking the previous night leads him to think that yes, she did, and she made sure to rid herself of the luck as soon as she met him, just as he'd predicted.

He silently picks up fresh clothes and jumps in the shower. When he comes out, Emma has woken up and is tiredly leaning on the same door frame he was leaning before.

Killian takes a brisk step towards her, intending to kiss her, but she pulls back in time.

“Sorry,” Emma says. “It doesn't mean- it's not that I don't want to...”

He looks at her. “You know. You figured it out.”

She shrugs. “Same way you did.”

“I should have showed you where the water heater is last night. You want to take a shower?”

“That would be nice.”

He leans towards her again. “Will you allow me just this, so that I can be sure you won't slip in there and hit your head?”

“Killian...”

“Please.”

“I came here to give you your luck back. It was yours to begin with.”

He sighs. “Can we have this discussion when we're both properly awake?"

She nods and he leaves a kiss on her cheek. Emma seems ready to complain, but is too jet-lagged to do so. He walks past her to his bedroom. “I'll bring you clean towels.”

Emma lets the warm water wash over her, finally feeling the exhaustion wear off a little. She's not surprised to hear the sound of something, probably a plate, breaking in the kitchen. Feeling guilty, she turns the water off and puts soap on.

She's already feeling much better. Is jet-lag all a matter of luck?

She wouldn't really know. In all her plane trips before she met Killian – officially – she was the one who was the lucky one.

She peeks briefly at Killian when she comes out. He's sitting on the couch, waiting with two cups of coffee on the table in front of him.

She puts on clean clothes and joins him, sitting next to him and preparing for a kiss.

He leans away a bit, but still smiling at her.

“You figured it out before you left,” she says. “That's why you skipped back through the queue to come kiss me.”

He lowers his head. “I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd left and knowingly taken the luck with me.”

“But you gave it to me, as if... as if it was so simple.”

“You would have done the same.” He looks at her. “Isn't that why you came here without saying anything?”

She suddenly remembers she should have cancelled her hotel reservation. It's too late now to have any chance for a refund, luck notwithstanding. “You did lie to me,” she says teasingly, staring into his eyes. “You were that pirate boy in that Halloween party.”

He sighs, smiling slightly. “I have no idea how I managed to lie so smoothly at that point.”

“Is that when you realized it? You covered it pretty well.”

“But you still knew there was something wrong.”

Of course she did. They were, somehow, an open book to each other.

“Do you remember the next time?” she asks.

“In that club in New York City.”

“I... I remember the gunshots,” she says in a low voice. She doesn't miss the slight twitch of his lips. “It was... it was you, wasn't it? And your girlfriend.”

Killian closes his eyes. He feels his head hurt, and that's certainly not from the current lack of luck.

Emma can't hold a sniffle back in time, and Killian immediately says, “It wasn't your fault.”

“It's so messed up. If I hadn't kissed you...”

“You asked me first.”

“I didn't ask you if you wanted-”

“Emma, please.” His voice is shaking, and it shuts her up. “You didn't know. And... Milah's loss, watching her being murdered... it hasn't healed completely.” He lifts his head to look at her. “It's enough to deal with by itself, I can't...”

He lowers his head again, and Emma bites at her lip, shaken by the pain written on his face. He's right. She shouldn't feel guilty over it, and even if she does, she can't burden him with it.

He takes a deep breath and looks at her again, face calmer now. “I think it would have happened anyway. You think all the times we met were a coincidence? We're from two different parts of the world, and we met three times before we even had the chance to catch each other's names. And we kissed in all of them.”

“You think it's just fate?”

“It's a cruel game she's played on us, but I can't find any logical explanation.”

“Could it be a test?”

“Of what?”

“Of who will be the first to run off with luck on their side.”

Killian thinks for a moment. “I hadn't thought of that. That sounds even more cruel, considering we'd have to steal the luck from each other. And with a kiss, no less.”

“I can't imagine what you must have been thinking after you kissed me at the airport.” She takes his hand in hers. “If there really is a test involved, I'm pretty sure you passed it.”

“Maybe it's long-term. Just yesterday a bird shat on my head.” He snorts a laugh. “A few too many of those and I would be back on a plane to Boston.”

“So... what do we do?” Emma says, but she's perfectly sure it's a question he's having as well.

“You won't settle on keeping the luck for yourself when you go back, will you?”

Her face crumbles, and he doesn't stop her when she captures his lips in hers.

“Not a chance,” she says and leans her head on his shoulder.

After a short silence, he says, “When did you figure it out?”

“Three days ago, I think.”

“And you came here that fast?” His voice raises in pitch.

“I couldn't stay still as soon as I knew. And well, I did buy a lottery ticket and, you know...”

He leans back a little to look at her. His expression is not that same smile that usually breaks her; it's sadder, with a pinch of surprise, but it has the same effect. He kisses her, but she leans back in when he tries to break off. They allow themselves a moment to kiss and not count, and then they look at each other lost.

“Who's got it now?” Killian asks.

Emma smiles. She wraps her arms around him.

“I can't leave without knowing you have it.”

“You know, I've had some time to think about it.” He wraps his own arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “And I've had a few theories.”

“Such as?”

He leans a bit back so they can see each other again. “I think the longer one stays lucky, the worse the bad luck hits later.”

“You think that is? I've had the bad luck longer, but you've had it worse. It would make sense.”

“Swan, you can't compare the two.”

“You're the one comparing.”

“I'm comparing the individual situations, not which one of us has had it worse.”

“It wasn't always good for me, you know that. But I never had to lose anyone.”

Killian's face falls a little.

“How could you do it? How could you give me your luck thinking that you could be endangering the life of someone you love?”

“Stop calling it 'my' luck,” he says softly.

“It was yours first.”

He gives her an incredulous look, but then his face turns thoughtful. “It was a last-moment decision. At first I thought it was just us meeting, I don't know why it took me so long to figure out it was with a kiss that it swapped.”

“Oh.”

“When I reached the checkpoint, I found a banknote and I realized I was still lucky, despite what I'd originally thought.”

“And you came back to kiss me.”

He nods.

She sighs. “Both so stubbornly selfless.”

He takes his arm away so that he can hold her hand. “Do you remember when I called you for New Year's?”

“How could I forget?” she says, smiling.

“When I saw how you were at first, I promised myself I'd never let you experience anything like that again. And with that in mind, I couldn't leave you unlucky.”

“But, your family...”

He shakes his head. “Is it really a surprise you found me like that last night?”

Her eyes widen. “Did something happen?”

“No, thankfully. Not to us, at least.” To her unspoken question, he answers, “The detective who helped with my case, you remember some trials I told you about?”

“What happened?”

“He was shot, he's in a coma now, and Nemo happened to be the one fostering his twelve-year-old daughter.”

“That's too many coincidences.”

“I talked to him, to Nemo, about all this.”

“You did?! Did he believe you?”

He smiles a little. “This isn't Hollywood, love. He's known me for half my life. Though I was surprised when he immediately trusted I wasn't going nuts. So we talked about it, and we can't see any reason why the detective getting shot has any connection to us. But I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Hm. Anything else?”

“Aside from occasionally getting stuck in traffic, or broken elevators, or stepping on dog shit, not much. At least I was prepared to be unlucky this time.”

“Well, now I am too.” She sits up straight, as if to prove her point. “Prepared, I mean.”

“Swan...”

“It's my time to be incredibly selfless.”

“You've been unlucky the longest. You deserve some more time to relax.”

“But you said that the bad luck hits back harder. So next time for me it will be worse than you've been having it now.”

He pauses. He didn't consider that. He hadn't actually considered there would be a next time.

“So, how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?”

She points between the two of them. “Be together. Try to keep it balanced.”

“You still want to be with me?” His face betrays his disbelief.

She wraps her arms around his neck again. “Of course I do. Why do you think I came all this way?”

“Emma... you don't- you didn't expect what you saw last night. I'm relapsing. And it's not the first time I do.”

“We can work with that.” She brushes her hand through his hair.

“You don't deserve that.”

“I don't care. You don't deserve going back to drinking, either. You were willing to leave me with good luck, forever.” She puts her palm on his cheek. “I want to know you'll be okay. And I want to help, if I can. Was that why you were pulling away?”

“Not exactly... maybe, in part. I was hoping you'd lose interest, so you'd never risk getting unlucky again. I went back to drinking in an effort to protect my family.”

“How would that help?”

“I've been a walking jinx. I hoped that I could make them disgust me so they'd stay away from me.”

“Oh, Killian...”

“I failed miserably. They love me too much for their own good.”

“I know this sounds weird, but I'd gladly be the asshole and run away with the luck on my side if you promised to never try something like that again.”

He smiles a little. “Bad fortune leading to character development?”

“So that's what it was all about!” she teases. “Fate wanted us to be deeply layered humans. How kind of her.”

They laugh half-heartedly. At least they have each other in this.

“So what do you think this is?” she says. “Fate toying with us?”

“I have a theory about that too. We have one day difference between our birthdays, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But I was born here. You in the United States. What if it's not really one day? What if it's just a few hours?” He shrugs slightly. “What if there's no actual difference at all?”

Emma thinks for a moment. “I remember seeing my birth certificate. I was born at night, around ten, eleven?”

Killian nods. “It would be three or four in the morning here then. I was born very early in the morning. I don't remember the hour exactly-”

“You wouldn't,” Emma says with a cheeky smile.

Killian laughs lightly. “I've happened to have seen my birth certificate too, you know. And it was very early too. I think my mother said she'd woken up in the middle of the night and my... father took her to the hospital.”

“So you think we were born at the exact same time? Or moment, at least?”

“It wouldn't be hard to check. I think it was all fate's doing, after that. It kept throwing things into our lives so we'd lean towards each other's path.”

“Until we finally had the chance to actually get each other's names.” She leans closer to him.

“Quite a cruel game it played on us, but maybe now we can at least achieve some normalcy.”

“Tell me about it. After everything we've been through, it's so hard to just accept the good things.”

“Aye. You get used to things going well, then you kiss a stranger and suddenly you lose everything.”

Killian doesn't mean any malice with his words, she knows, but Emma nearly feels her heart break. After she kissed him at that Halloween party, she did lose everything. But he doesn't know how much it meant to her, especially through her darkest moments, to remember the way that pirate boy looked at her. So much that fifteen years later that same look had the same effect.

Was she just a stranger that destroyed his life to him?

“Hey, hey,” Killian says. “That's not what I meant at all.”

“What?” She looks up lost, realizing her eyes are full of tears.

He smiles softly, that damn smile of his. “I told you, I truly believe it was fate that brought us together. Our luck would have swapped sides no matter what, at one point or another. Fate made our paths cross, but I am bloody well glad it was you I had to meet.”

What the fuck, she thinks, that's so sweet.

He's always so good with words. She just kisses him again, then sighs. “We'll have to get used to that too.”

“What?”

“The thought that every kiss comes with a consequence.”

He holds her tighter. “It's a cross we'll bear together.”

Together.

He looks down. “If I came to live in Boston, would you help me until I get a job and an apartment?”

“You would come with me?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I... I thought we could settle for like, visiting each other every few months or so. Otherwise, we'll have to count kisses every day, going after the other to pass on our luck...”

He brings his hand up to caress her cheek, not missing how she now called it 'their' luck. “Kissing, as physical touch, is a love language. Giving each other luck can be kind of the same.”

They lean into each other's embrace. It's amazing how easier it is now that the truth is out, despite what it might mean for their relationship.

“Are you serious about moving? You want to come live in Boston?”

“I've made enough snap decisions to know a serious one when I see it.”

Emma feels her heart soar. He's willing to move countries just to be with her, after he'd condemned himself to a lifetime of bad luck for her sake. She kisses him again and sighs. The thought of having him by her side, and not just count on right scheduling and phone screens to have him close...

A sudden idea jumps at her right as Killian's phone rings. He stands up to take it, and Emma starts wondering. Norway is very close from here. Why should it be Killian who has to move across the Atlantic?

Killian picks up his phone.

“Good morning,” Killian says.

“Killian? Are you alright?” Nemo says.

“Aye, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Nemo, I'm alright.” He looks at Emma and smiles. A bit more than alright.

“Are you available? I need you to pick up Alice from school when she's done and look after her for the evening. If you're not okay...”

Killian suppresses a sigh. “I can do that. Don't worry. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. John needs some help at the office today.”

And he doesn't trust Killian. Nothing unexpected, if he's honest – though it's surprising that Nemo trusts him with taking care of the girl.  “Mind if I bring some company? Emma surprised me with a visit.”

“Emma? She's here? Does she... know?”

“Yes.”

Nemo is silent for a moment, but eventually says, “You'll tell me all about it later. She can come, of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you. Could you also cook? There's meat and peas in the fridge, they just need to be cooked in a pan.”

“I will. No problem.”

“Thank you, Killian.”

Killian hangs up and looks at Emma; she's stood up and is looking at his old framed family photo.

She smiles at him. “Your mother and brother?”

“Aye. It's the only picture I've got of them.” He looks at it, sighing deeply. “You recognized me?”

Her smile turns into a smirk. “Would you recognize me? You're lucky I don't have- Ugh.”

He catches her meaning. “Am I?” He kisses her temple. “Or maybe now?”

She looks back at the picture. She's not surprised his biological father isn't depicted anywhere, even as an addition to the original. “Your mother was very beautiful. Was red her natural hair colour?”

He smiles a little. “I like to think that's where I got the ginger beard from.”

She wraps her arm around his, then her free hand takes his. She looks at the other photo, the one of his new family, with both fathers and both siblings. And then yet another one, with him and the one who's most possibly Milah. After a moment of silence she asks, “Where are we going?”

“To my fathers' house.”

She smiles widely. “Meeting the parents already?”

Killian laughs lightly. “They'll be busy today and Nemo asked me if I can take care of the girl he's fostering.” He squeezes her hand in his. “Though I would like you to meet them too.”

[cavariously]

[Trying my hand at a fan fiction.

I love to write but I have never done anything like this before, so all feedback would be extremely appreciated (Grammer, Plot, Characters etc.).

I love Tokyo Ghoul so I really hope I don't fuck this up 😅. A big thank you to anyone who reads this ❤️]

Caution: Agressive Swearing, Offensive Language, Graphic Violence.

Notes: Takes place post end of TG:re, Reapers = Marshall version of Doves.

1. Crow - 24

City lights and the rushing motions of the landscape turn the 24th ward into a blinding and blaring circus. Humans. They crawl through this city with the assurance that they will be here tomorrow. They will be here a year from now. They will be here forever. They are the only lifeform with this assurance. All other creatures in this world live with the knowledge that their making it to the next moment is a fifty fifty

It is certainly a miracle that they last, noticing absolutely nothing at all. They don't see the effects that the fumes of their veichles have on the planet that they grip so tightly to. They can't begin to recognise that they are being continually watched and targeted by devices that could wipe them from the face of said Earth in less than zero. They don't even notice the apex predictor observing them from less than a mile above.

Humans simply move from one spot to another, only stopping to cause irrevocable disaster and reduce their surroundings to less than ash, and then move on to the next target. Someone said that humans are Parasites, and although it may be naive to believe this was wholly correct, it would be complete ignorance to dismiss it entirely. Ghouls do not indulge in such ignorance. Parasite is an apt description for a human, from the perspective of a ghoul, that and food.

The figure stands tall, wind rushing rapidly through their tied up hair. They can smell the putrescence of man-kind as they go about their sweaty and arrogant business. They would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. What do humans amount to? They are greedy and bloody bags of meat that fight and hate more than any other being, yet they are allowed to multiply and just be. It could be argued that ghouls are the same as humans in this aspect, but most abide by the one meal a month agreement, even though this arrangement can be hell for some. Unlike humans, who see violence as their God given right, when ghouls fight, it is rarely for anything other than survival. Perhaps this view doesn't take all ghouls into account, but all humans gorge themselves on everything, and fight for any fucking reason they want.

Twenty years ago, a disaster was meant to end this disparity. For the first time ever, ghouls and humans fought together to save the world they shared from the monster that had been designated 'DRAGON'. The defeating of this enemy was meant to end in equality, where ghouls and humans shared the world equally. Scientific leaps had been made. Synthetic meats that ghouls could eat, so they wouldn't have to harm humans. The corpse of Dragon even lead to dramatic advancements in the medical field. Humans were now benefiting from ghoul DNA, as it allowed them to combat most illnesses and increase their lifespan somewhat. After all that ghouls had done for them, weren't humans grateful? No. Ten years, then ghouls were back to being vile creatures to be hunted, and were forced back to living in the sewers. The deaths of so many perfectly good and innocent ghouls, just so that humanity could screw them all over again. What a funny tragedy.

Another figure appeared from the shadows, stepping in line with their comrade. Neither looking at the other, they both silently watched the ferris-wheel turn round and round. A world that they saw as rightfully theirs. They were hungry for it and they would have it. No matter the cost. In fact, the more human casualties... the better.

"Are you ready to go?" the newcomer asked, never taking their attention away from everything below.

"Yeah. Any longer and I might have to eat you."

"Like you could" came the cold, arrogant response.

"Just because you got five inches on me now, doesn't mean I can't still beat your ass Da..."

"Don't fucking call me that. While we're out here you call me Kuma and I call you... Blindfold, or Eyeless. Something like that." Even though his response had been quick and sharp, neither his tone nor his concentration had wavered.

"Eyeless" they conceded.

"Fine, Eyeless it is. Just don't go shouting our real names out in public. You're enough of a liability as it is without giving our fucking identities away."

Eyeless finally turned to look at their brother. They couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia. He had been so small once, constantly hanging onto their shoulders and making paper birds that he place all over their home. Those memories hurt, especially when they remembered what came after. He used to smile so much and now he's a moody little shit. They'd never been like that at fourteen, they thought smugly.

"Fine. Let's go KUMA before I rip your snarky head off." With that final retort, Eyeless turned and stepped off of the roof.

Kuma watched them drop six stories, landing with grace and poise. Why were they always so aggravating? Maybe he was jealous of their natural ability, or perhaps they were just a pain in the ass to be related to. With a sigh and a wandering look to the night sky, he followed suit.

* * *

The Marshalls finished up disposing of the ghoul. Bikakus are a pain in the ass Haruto thought, but it's better than a Ukaku. Haruto loved the fact that he was an intimidating figure. The ghoul had basically shat itself as soon as it had seen his large muscular frame, and cruel bearded face. The black trench coat they wore, that often announced the end for ghouls, probably didn't hurt either. He nudged the face of the corpse with his foot. He reckoned it wouldn't even be worth removing his Kakahou to get a new quinque. Taking into account the short amount of time it had taken him and Kenji to bypass his defences and cut him through the middle, he was a B rated ghoul maximum.

"Right, time we get back" Haruto sighed.

"Mhm" Kenji agreed. He never said much.

"Did you bring the body bag? You never know, you might be able to upgrade that piece of shit you call a quinque." Haruto laughed loudly. He loved taking the piss out of Kenji, especially when he knew his only retort woukd be 'mhm'.

As expected, Kenji responded with a grumbling "Mhm", and moved towards the body.

Haruto, turned to walk away, lighting a cigarette and beginning to inhale deeply. That Kenji was going to marry his sister. What's he gonna say when the priest asks him if he takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife? Mhm. Haruto chuckled to himself. All in all Kenji was a good guy, and one hell of a Marshall. He could use that crappy Ukaku quinque pretty damn well, even if it did come from a C rated ghoul. Kenji also took Haruto's kids to the beach when he and Mrs Haruto wanted a quiet weekend. He might be an ugly fucker with next to no hair, and a face that made you want to split him down the middle, but he was clean and sometimes smelt nice. Yeah, Kenji could marry his sister if he wanted. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

A loud splatter sounded out behind Haruto. He spun on his heels, instincts flaring immediately into action. Where the fuck was Kenji? Where his partner had been attempting to fit the ghoul into the black bag, there was now the cut in half corpse of his future brother in law, fallen to the sides with a blindfolded figure standing in the middle. His entire being twitched in anticipation of this thing making a move to kill him, but all it did was leasurly bend down and scoop something up from the gore beneath. As the creature straightened up, he saw that it was simply sucking on one of Kenji's bloody fingers. To others, this might signify a psychotic animal, but to a seasoned Marshall, this was a confident and calculating killer plain and simple. A powerful one at that. Their clothes were indistinctive; clad in thin black leather and fabric, however, their mask was a completely different story. Almost the entirety of its face was covered. Its mouth had a tight black fabric wrapped over it, with a skeletal smile that would open, revealing the snaking pink tongue underneath. The huge back leather collar surrounding it could be zipped up to hide all but the eyes from the world. Not that the eyes could be seen either. A bone white blindfold shut them off from view. Foreign symbols were drawn in deep black on either side, with the a closed eye taking centre stage. Although it was just a drawing, that closed eye was unearving, as if the lack of sight heightened its ability to see, instead of impeding it.

Now this was a ghoul. Just by its sheer presence Haruto could tell this one was rated A, or more likely >S. Haruto couldn't deny to himself that he was intimidated, but he was a senior Marshall, and always backed himself in a one on one. He looked down at his fallen partner and gulped. First things first, get into this guys head. Haruto scanned the ghoul, looking for weaknesses that he could exploit verbally. If he was lucky, the reaction could lead to him obtaining an edge. He noticed that this ghoul was slight in stature, maybe five foot five all told.

"You wanna end up like this other piece of shit, you fucking dwarf."

This garnered absolutely nothing.

Haruto couldn't take it much longer. This creature continued to lapp at the guts of his dead partner, that were splattered over its fingers. It obviously didn't give a shit what it looked like to others. It reminded him of a cat, publically cleaning its fur and genitals with no concern for the world. It was fucking reveling in its feast, and it made Haruto's blood boil.

"You killed an innocent man. He was gonna have a family and you ripped him apart. You monsters have no fucking souls and you all belong in hell. That's where I'm gonna send you. I'm a fucking senior Marshall you stupid shit. You have no clue how badly you've fucked up."

Again, the ghoul made no sign of changing emotion, continuing to dip its fingers in Kenji and take its time eating. Haruto knew he needed something else to get into its head so he scanned again. 'Shit' he thought, as the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. The majority of its body was covered in black that mostly obscured its shape, however, his keen eyes saw that although its grey hair was tied up, it was probably quite long when undone. At its chest area, although it was probably bound, there was the hint of a slightly tented structure. The hardest one to spot was the hips. Despite them being covered by black leather shorts, those hips were a tad too wide to be a man's.

"Alright you sick fuck. I'M A COMMIN FOR YA!"

With one last drive to uncover more courage, Haruto raised his Kokaku quinque and lept towards the ghoul.

"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR KENJI... YOU BITCH!"

As Haruto closed the distance with extreme speed, to less than two meters, the shadow of another figure dropped from the sky, landing directly next to the first. Haruto skidded to a halt, taken aback by the new masked creature. This one was certainly taller, and its face was covered by a red, horned mask. It was only as his attention slipped completely that he realised his final mistake. For the first time, the blindfolded ghoul smiled widely, the skeletal mouth parting to reveal massive bloody teeth.

The next thing Haruto knew was that he was laying down on the ground, face to the sky. His neck was warm and dripping wet. He raised his hands to his throat as the oxygen escaped his body, feeling the deep gash that was releasing his blood. The ghouls started conversing.

"Which one you want?" the first asked the newcomer.

"I don't care. You killed 'em both so you choose" the other responded dispondantly.

"Well, you're the growing boy so you take the ghoul and the first Reaper."

"Damn, well fuck me if you ain't the best big sister" uttered the male ghoul sarcastically, as he casually walked over to Kenji and the dead ghoul. "Why you taking you're mask off you sicko? The guys not even dead yet."

"I like it when they watch me" the female ghoul giggled.

Haruto saw the shadow of something passing over his head. "Ken...Ke..ji" Haruto gasped.

Suddenly, from below him came a the same giggle. "Awww dude, I think these guys were close."

"Eyeless, eat the fucker and let's go" came the voice of the male.

"Hey buddy boy, look at me will you" said the female from his feet.

Haruto craned his neck, scared of what he might see, but thinking 'fuck it' to himself. What's did he have to be afraid of, he's already dead. When he finally focused on the face he was confused. She was chewing on a leg. His leg. When the fuck did she get her dirty hands on that? When she'd finished on his leg, licking the tips of her fingers with delight, she bent down and hovered over him. Eyeless? That's what the other one had called her, but that wasn't true at all. Now that her blindfold was off he could see the entirety of her murderous giddy face.

"You're very funny" she said. "Innocent man. Gonna have a family. Its really fucking funny."

The last thing Haruto would ever see would be a testimony to her names innacuracy. Staring at him excitedly was one grey eye, so remarkably human looking it was weird. The other eye was a pool of darkness... with a violent, blood red pupil that seemed to be trying to force its way out of its black prison. She snapped up the rest of him.

"Sicko..."

End

[musicollage]

Trond Kallevåg Hansen. Bedehus & Hawaii, 2019. Hubro. ( Mastered By – Giuseppe Ielasi ) ( Guitar, Marxophone, Keyboards, Xylophone – Geir Sundstøl )   ~ [ Album Review |    1) Bird is the Worm  +  2) Brightly Off-coloured Discophile ]

1) There are so many different reasons a particular album will connect with me, and often, it’s more than one reason.  It’s a joy to attempt to convey those emotions and thoughts in the written form, to bring the imagery in my head, heart, and soul to life on the page.  But occasionally I encounter an album that is so damn beautiful in some ineffable way that all I want to do is simply type the words this is pure beauty over and over again.  This is pure beauty this is pure beauty this is pure beauty this is pure beauty.  Guitarist Trond Kallevåg Hansen has crafted an album that captures the Nordic countryside and the Pacific ocean shore, and he’s joined by musicians who have a talent at doing the same, especially fellow guitarist Geir Sundstøl, who, also, creates music of pure beauty and has left me equally captivated.  2019 has had its share of gorgeous recordings see the light of day, but perhaps none more oso than Bedehus & Hawaii.  This is pure beauty.  Sometimes that’s all that can be said, and really, there is nothing more that needs saying.

2) Sometimes when an album creates the mood of the sun warming your skin, with a gentle breeze blowing, and for some reason you’re sitting on a large front porch in some fucking rocking chair, staring out at the horizon, and popping off random “yeps” into the air, it’s easy to ignore. Its sounds drift in so smoothly you don’t realize how it makes the entire space a thousand times more chill. Musicians like Bill Frisell, Ry Cooder, and Gustavo Santaolalla are virtuosos of this “oh, fuck ya” space. These kinds of albums aren’t here to throw bricks through your window, shit in a paper bag and light it on fire, or break down socioeconomic whatever-the-fuck. These albums don’t argue with you. They’re not the fighting type. But they get their way whether you like it or not. All they want is for you to chill the fuck out. Their goal is to create sound waves that relax those shoulders, unclench that jaw, and place you in that perfect happy high state where you softly shut your eyes and smile like some dumb idiot. That’s what Trond does on this album by combining folk instrumentation with fancy-shmancy jazz techniques. It’s a folky jazz bubble bath, motherfuckers. So lie back, take it in, and enjoy.

The slide guitar, or pedal steel, can often be an overlooked instrument. When you do find yourself in front of one, you wonder how the fuck you ever forgot about their beautiful sound and why you ever stopped listening to it in the first place. Their bends and sustained notes have the ability to create twangy melodies that ring out like a swan’s song singing out to a benevolent Hillybilly God named Cletus; this makes sense considering Bedehus is Norwegian for “chill as fuck church house on a bucolic hillside” (not a direct translation). Geir Sundstøl plays this shit with the sensitivity of an eyeball and the foresight of a wizard. There’s not a single strain or ill-placed note in the batch. It all comes and goes with the naturalness of an ocean tide.

Next to the talents of Geir, you’ve got Trond throwing down Frisell-inspired guitar, Alexander Hoholm playing a clean, hearty, and pitch-perfect double bass, and Ivar Myhrset Asheim playing percussion like God fucking intended; bringing attention to what’s already there, not being a fucking centrepiece like some attention-seeking child that shat itself, and Adrian Løseth Waade showing what’s up on the fiddle. Albums like this don’t seem overly impressive at first. They’re easily overlooked. It’s not until you realize how easy it is to ruin such a delightful mood that you understand the talent behind them. One single blip, one blop, one note played too hard or soft and the entire diaphanous sheet of sound gets drenched with piss. And that’s where the tension comes from. To properly execute these kind of jams, you require a team of precise hands. Each instrument must work together to cut back the layers of callousness without ever touching a nerve or hitting the meat. If you’re a jazzhead, you’ll understand these techniques well and enjoy their performance. But if you don’t know or give a fuck about technique, this album may have even more to offer. Sure it’s pretty cool to know how a magic trick is performed, but it’s an entirely different thing to actually believe that it’s magic.

[agarariddle-andhernachos]

FIRST FLOOR PEOPLE

Tom Riddle x Hermione Granger

Summary : Tom couldn’t stand the pink sticky notes anymore. He just wanted to burn them and burn the person who kept leaving them on his door. But 1A, his neighbour was hot. Not hot but beautiful. God, she was so beautiful. And her laugh ? She always laughed.

  The elevator had always been broken. It was even written on Tom’s lease. However, it had never been a real issue for Tom, he didn’t mind climbing one story to reach his apartment. But on this night, Tom would have given anything for the elevator to work. He was exhausted and had a severe headache.

 As he climbed up the stairs, his grocery bags becoming heavier at each step, he kept insulting his boss in his head, wanker, twat, arsehole, wanker. One story later he let the bags fall onto the floor and looked for his keys in his pocket. His cigarette pack fell on the floor, followed by his car keys. He sighed and finally rose his head towards his door.

 Here it was, the fucking pink sticky note.

 In order to fully understand what this sticky note means, let’s go back four months before.  

 As Tom left his apartment on this winter morning he noticed movers outside his building. He noticed them because the large truck was parked in front of his car, preventing him from leaving.

This was the first bad impression among a lot to come. Angry, he took out a green sticky note from his bag along with a pen.

As he started walking, instead of driving, to his new job, the green paper stood out stuck onto one of the beige boxes.

 - Fuck you, you and your moving truck. Ps : Welcome to the building arsehole. -

 But what Tom had not thought about was that the same boxes, sans the green sticky note, were all gathered in front of his neighbour's door, on the first floor, when he came back from work.

“Fuck me.” He muttered as he entered his apartment. He threw his keys in the storage pocket by the door and went directly to the fridge to grab a beer. He approached the french door leading to his little balcony, removed his shoes, carefully placed them on the left corner then lit up a cigarette.

The next morning, a pink sticky note was stuck to his front door.

 -Hello neighbour, would you mind not smoking, the smoke enters my apartment and bothers me. Thanks a bunch ! 1A-

 Tom carefully took the note in his right hand, inspected it, sneered and threw it on the ground.

 This note had not stopped him from smoking, it actually did the opposite. Tom was quite enjoying bothering his neighbour. However, when he went outside on this night he saw what seemed like animal faeces. It was indeed animal faeces after further inspection. Tom stood and stared at the shit on his balcony. It was not from a pigeon or any bird. Then, he heard it.The cat. Meowling from the terrace belonging to his neighbour, proud of having tarnished Tom’s balcony. That was how Tom started writing his own note, on his green paper.

 So every single day, they left each other their complaint. 1A about his smoking habits and him (1B) about the fucking cat.

At first, they were polite and understanding, but as time went by they became ruder and threatening.

 So here was Tom, looking at the pink sticky note, his car keys on the floor next to his pack of cigarettes. It simply read :

 -Go die alone in a hole you and your fucking cigarettes you wanker. 1A-

 Tom laughed, at least they had the same kind of insults. At first, he used to throw them away, but now he kept them, knowing he could use them a leverage one day. He picked up his belongings, opened his door, grabbed a beer from the fridge, went on his balcony and lit up a cigarette. As he put his earbuds on, he noticed that the cat had not shat here today. He checked that the light inside 1A’s apartment was turned off and pressed himself to the left side of the balcony. 1A’s side of the balcony.

  As he blew the smoke he made sure that it went directly into the apartment. Yes, it was petty, but so were the sticky notes.

Tom simply closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the music. Suddenly, his cigarette was no longer his hand but slowly falling down into the street. He turned around.

The first thing he saw was her curly chestnut hair, then her brown eyes, then her pink lips where he could easily read “are you fucking kidding me?”. Tom took out his earbuds.

 “Do you even know how much a pack cost nowadays ?” He barked.

“Are you fucking serious ?” The girl almost yelled. “You were blowing your smoke inside my apartment.”

“You have no proof.”

“I just saw you.”

“Still no proof.”

 She froze at that and simply looked at him. The cat was the one to break the silence. Both of their eyes fell on it. The girl put her left foot in front of her pet to stop it from going to Tom’s terrace.

“It’s going to shit on my balcony !” Tom pointed at the cat. It was the ugliest cat he had ever laid his eyes upon. It was chonky, ginger - closer to red - , cross-eyed and most importantly it looked like the most stupid living being on earth.

 “No he’s not.” 1A defended her animal.

“If Satan comes, once more, on my balcony, I swear to god it’s going to end up like the cigarette. One story below, dead on the pavement.”

“You’re a psychopath !”

“You’re the mental one with your little sticky notes ! You belong in a fucking mental institution.”

“You write them too.”

“Just because you started…”

“Actually you did ! On my moving day !”

 Tom stopped talking, because she was completely right but he would never admit it.

“Well, you…” Tom started but stopped as he heard a strange noise. Like someone was scratching something. More like something was scratching his bloody shoes. His eyes widened at the realisation and he eagerly turned around.

“Crookshanks.” The girl muttered through gritted teeth. “Come back right now.”

Tom picked up the cat out at arm’s length.

“Don’t drop him !”

“I’m not going to drop it.” Tom snapped as the cat began to move in his hands.

“You’re holding him wrong.”

“Just take it !” He shoved the cat into her waiting arms and threw an evil glare at the chubby animal.

Tom picked up his shoes and inspected the mess Satan had just made.

“You owe me new shoes.” He told the girl.

 She was cuddling her pet, her eyes soft and a mocking smile on her lips. It was like she was congratulating her cat for destroying his new pair of shoes. Tom simply went back inside his apartment, violently closed the french door and exhaled.

 “Fuck me. She is hot.”

 *****************

 “So how is 1A ?” Abraxas laughed as he joined the lads in the booth.

“She’s mental.” Tom grumbled.

“So it’s a she ?” Dolohov smirked in his thick Russian accent and shared a knowing glance with the six other boys surrounding Tom.

“Is she hot ?” Isodor asked.

“Stop talking about her. I’m trying to enjoy the night.”

“So that means yes. You slightly blushed, you’re currently playing with your beer tag, you…”

“Oh shut up Thorus.” Tom defensively snapped.

“And you’re on the defensive. Yes, she is clearly hot.” Thorus laughed as he fist bump Milton Mulciber seating in front of him.

 Tom simply rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. He had told his friends about 1A, the entire story, and they always enjoyed scheming about what Tom could do next. But he just realised that now that they knew she was hot, they would try to get him laid with 1A.

 “So, what does she look like ?” Edgard Lestrange asked.

“Well, girl, hair, eyes, legs. You know.” Tom shrugged.

“Come on Tom.”

“What ? What do you want me to say ? That she’s really pretty ? That she has beautiful eyes ? That she has legs for days and that her lips are really kissable ?”

“You sound like a girl mate.” Isodor mocked him.

“Oh fuck you then.”

 On that Tom rose from his seat and went to the bar to order another drink. As he waited for his beer he looked at his friends and saw them chatting altogether, sometimes throwing him a little glance. They were plotting. He knew it. The bartender gave him the glass bottle and Tom nodded as a thank you.

 “So, what do I do next ?” He asked the lads as he sat back with them. “Hide something on her balcony ? Like a dead fish or something ?”

The silence that followed his ideas was both embarrassing and heavy.

“What ?” Abraxas finally said. “No, no, you're not going to do any of that. You’re going to be charming, buy her flowers, invite her to a nice dinner.”

“Why would I even do that ?”

“To get laid mate.” Dolohov laughed.

 *****************

 Four beers later, he left his friends at the bar and went back to his place. He had not seen any pinky notes since their altercation two days prior. Tom would not admit that he smiled when he saw it that night, nor that he was waiting for it. But he was definitely relieved. He read it.

 -If I find another ash on my balcony, I swear I’m going to end you. 1A-

 Tom was about to take the note but noticed that the bottom of the paper was rolled around something. A cigarette. He simply smiled.

 Then Tom began his daily routine : He threw his keys in the storage pocket by the door and went directly to the fridge to grab a beer. He approached the french door leading to his little balcony, removed his shoes, carefully placed them on the left corner then lit up a cigarette.

 Of course he blew the smoke inside her apartment, and made sure of leaving ashes all over her balcony.

 *****************

 His weekly “date” with Olive Hornby had just finished. Tom put back his clothes on, nodded at the naked girl on the bed and simply left her apartment. He cursed as he saw that it was raining outside. Thankfully she was not living far from his place and he simply had to walk a couple of minutes to join his own apartment complex. As usual, it was there. Tom took it to read it inside, sheltered from the rain. Once he was on his balcony, a cigarette on his lips, he read it. It was simple, witty, funny and threatening. Tom smiled to himself.

 “You do like them.” He heard from his left. Tom startled a bit and turned his head to see her sitting on a chair, her cat on her lap and her eyes filled with malice.

“Maybe I do.” He smiled. She smiled back.

“Would mind smoking on the other side of the balcony ?” She asked him. Tom sighed but obeyed.

 There was a reason why he always smoked on the left side, apart from bothering her, the right side was obstructed by several pieces of furniture. Tom tried to get comfortable but failed, so he finally decided on leaning against the guardrail.

“What are you reading ?” He asked. She lifted her head and closed her book.

“In Search of Lost Time.”

“Proust ? Really ?”

“What do you have against Proust ?”

“It’s boring.”

“No it’s not. It’s beautifully written. Exquisite vocabulary, profound…”

“Profoundly boring.” He cut her.

“Yes it is boring.” She snorted. “But I promised my best friend I would read it.”

“You should change your best friend.”

 She laughed at that and Tom couldn’t help but smile a little at the delightful sound. Tom realised at this moment, as she carefreely laughed, her head slightly falling back, that she was not only hot, but simply beautiful.

 “So what’s your name ? Or should I keep calling you 1A ?”

“You haven’t checked ?” She genuinely asked.

“Check what ?”

“My letterbox.”

“Oh…” Tom realised that he could have done that month prior. But he also realised that she had checked. “So you’ve looked for my name, on the letterbox.”

She looked at him. “Yes I did Tom. I couldn’t keep calling you wanker.”

“Fair enough.” Tom laughed. “But I still don’t know your name.”

 1A rose up and approached the guardrail separating their two balconies. He mirrored her and they stood in front of each other. She put out her hand above it.

“Hermione.”

He took her hand and smiled.

“Hermione.” He repeated.

 *****************

 She was not on the balcony when he went home that night. It had become a little routine. They would meet each night on their respective terrace and talk. She would still ask him to smoke on the right side and he would still complain about the cat. But she would fondly smile at him when he pouted about not being comfortable and he would laugh at her witty remarks. And maybe he had petted her cat once. Maybe.

 He exhaled the white smoke and tipped his head towards the night sky. His day had been long, too long. Tom was currently wondering why he was still working there, he couldn’t stand his coworkers, his boss was a pain in the arse and the job in itself was not even interesting.

 “Have you eaten yet ?” He heard Hermione asked her in a hurry.

He turned his head and saw her, just her head poking out.

“Hello to you too.” He snorted.

“Answer me. Have you eaten yet ?” She pressed him.

“No I haven’t.”

“Good.” She went back inside her apartment, leaving a puzzled Tom behind. She came back a couple of seconds later with several containers of Chinese food. She put them on her small table.

“You are quite hungry.” Tom snorted.

“Ron was supposed to eat here so I ordered for three, because he eats like two, and he just bailed on me.”

 Tom didn’t know what to answer.

“The one that gave you the book ?” He tried to sound casual.

“No that’s Harry.”

 Tom nodded. Cool cool cool he thought to himself.

“Do you have a chair in your apartment ?” She asked him. Tom was still lost in his thoughts, trying to find out who this Ron could be.

“Sorry ?” He blurted out.

“A chair. To sit on.”

“Oh yes, yes.”

 He went inside to fetch one.

“Do you want a beer ?” He shouted for her to hear.

“Yes please.”

He grabbed two and settle in front of her, only the guardrail separating them. She handed him some noodles with chopsticks and they began eating.

“So how did you meet this Ron ?” Tom finally asked, his eyes stuck on his food.

“We’ve always been together, since pre-school.”

Cool, cool, cool.

“We kinda followed each other from pre-school to uni.” She continued.

Cool, cool, cool.

“Do you want to try mine ?” She offered. Tom rose his head and saw her casually sitting on her chair, smiling at him.

“Sure.” Tom was uneasy. His mind kept going back to Ron. What was he like ? What did he look like ? He needed answers. “How is it going then ?”

“It’s getting quite long now. But you know I like it, I can really see myself in the future continuing like that.”

 They’re going to get fucking married. Cool, cool, cool. Tom was only nodding, unable to speak more about the subject.

“Tom.”

He didn’t answer and kept his eyes on his Chinese box.

“Tom. Tom. Tom.”

He finally looked at her. Hermione had put both of her chopsticks in her mouth and mimicked a walrus. He burst out laughing. She laughed along. As he looked at her, he realised that he was fucked.

 *****************

 Abraxas Malfoy had insisted on joining Tom grocery shopping with Dolohov. He could hear the Russian doing god knows what behind them as they walked in the alleys. They stopped in front of the wines.

“I’m fucked.” Tom told his friend.

“What ?”

“I’m fucked Abraxas. Don’t you understand ? She has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’re talking about 1A.”

“Of course I am talking about her ! You’ve put the idea in my head that I could get laid with her, so I thought why not, I got to know her and of course she is not only fit and beautiful but funny, intelligent, witty and has a fucking boyfriend.”

 Abraxas and Antonin stared, both of them quite taken aback by the little speech their best friend gave them. Tom took the bottle of wine, the fruity pink wine, and put it in his trolley.

“You picked the wrong wine.” Antonin Dolohov pointed out.

“No I didn’t. It’s her favourite.”

“Oh man, you’re clearly fucked.” Abraxas patted his back.

 *****************

 When he went outside that evening, he saw her writing on a pink sticky note. He delicately closed the french door behind him, and leaned against it, watching her writing him a witty note.

“Is that for me ?” He finally asked after thirty seconds.

 “Christ.” She jumped with surprise and try to hide the note with her hand. “Why are you home this early ?”

“Is that for me ?” He repeated cheekily.

“No it’s for 1C, of course it’s for you, you twat. There are still ashes on my balcony Tom.”

“And Satan is still mistaking my balcony for his litter. So, what does it say ?” He put both of his elbow on the guardrail separating them and tried to catch a glimpse of the note.

“You’ll see when you get it…” She started but she began coughing. A lot. She stood up and went to the other side of the balcony. “Have you put lavender on yourself ?”

“What ?”

“Lavender. I’m allergic.”

“Hum, yeah my friend sprayed something on me at the pub…”

“Fuck me. I hate this smell, on top of being allergic it always reminds me of Lavender Brown. I hate her. But she’s Ron’s girlfriend so I’m supposed to like her.” She said between coughs.

 “Wait what ? What did you say ?”

“I’m allergic to lavender.”

“No, no I got that, after. You’re not Ron’s girlfriend ?”

“What ? God no.”

“I’ve been thinking that for months for fuck sake Hermione !” Tom got a bit mad.

 Hermione just looked at him. “Is it about last time ? I was talking about my classes at Uni. I’m tired of them, but I see myself becoming a lawyer in the future.” She stopped for a second and a big smile appeared on her lips “That’s why.” Tom furrowed his brows, encouraging her to keep explaining. “That’s why you’ve never asked me on a date.”

Tom stopped moving, he just kept looking at her. His mind was rushing, ask her, I’m going to ask her out, she’s single, god she’s single.

 “Well ?” She said after a little while. “I’m waiting, Tom.”

“Yeah, I, well, yes.” Tom stuttered. Hermione laughed at his flushed face.

“I would love to go on a date with you Tom.” She sneezed. “But take a shower first.”

 *****************

 The next morning, Tom felt good. Really good. He closed the door and locked it before noticing the pink sticky note.

 -Take a good look at the ashes you spread on my balcony Tom, because it’s gonna be you soon once I’m done burning you down.-

 Just below this charming note, Tom could see something that she had added in a hurry, written with another pen.

 -Thanks again for the date. I really loved it. 1A-

 Tom stood there, in the middle of the two doors, smiling to himself. He hastened to take out a green sticky note and a pen.

 -Tonight, meet me on your balcony at 8 P.M-

 *****************

 Tom had left early, he had called Milton after leaving the note this morning and had practically begged him to help him cook.

While his friend was finishing cooking the chicken, Tom took care of readying the balcony. He had the idea of putting a wooden board on the guardrail, he then covered it with a white cloth.

Tom went back inside and heard his neighbour entering her apartment.

 “Milton, fuck off.” Tom hurried his friend.

“What ? But the chicken is not done yet.”

“I’ll take care of that. Thanks mate.”

 Tom hurried back outside and saw her, grinning. She was wearing a red summer dress.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

 They both sat down. They laughed, Tom couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that much.

 Her laugh was warm and contagious. It reminded him of the first summer nights, when the cold gives way to the warmth, when the nights are not so dark anymore.

 And her smell, god her smell. The citrus scent of happiness and youth. The smell Tom wouldn’t mind falling asleep to for the rest of his life.

 Her eyes, glittering with malice and fondness when she looked at him.

 The way she talked as much with her body as with her mouth. The way she leaned towards him unconsciously as if she needed to always be closer. The way he needed her to be always closer.

 Her, simply her, in all of her glory. The allegory of beauty.

 “Tom ?”

 Tom lightly shook his head to tear himself from his thoughts.

“What ? Sorry.”

She laughed. She always laughed.

“I was wondering when you’ll ask me to come over.” She smiled.

“Would you like to come over, Hermione ?”

“I might.”

 *****************

 A door violently closing woke him up. He put his hand on the other side of the bed, trying to find her, but she wasn’t there. The bed was still warm though, the sheets still messy from their night. He sat up and slowly opened his eyes. The room was basked in the early light of the sun. 7:00 AM. Tom went to put his hand through his hair when he felt it, stuck to his forehead. A pink sticky note.

 -I had a lovely evening. Next time, I cook and you come over. I’ll call you during the day. PS : I’m already late for work, I have to take my car. Thanks a bunch wanker. Don’t you dare steal my parking spot. Hermione -

 Tom fell back asleep to the scent of citrus.

 *****************

 Two weeks. He hadn’t seen her, or heard from her in two weeks. He had waited that day, she hadn’t called. So he had waited for her on his balcony, she hadn’t come. He had heard the cat, meowling but she never went outside. She never went outside anymore.

 At first, he wondered what he had done wrong. He recalled every single thing they did together to find out when he messed up.

 Then, he became angry. He could hear the doors, steps, someone living in this apartment. Yet, she never went outside anymore.

 He left her sticky notes. She didn’t anymore.

  *****************

 He was outside, smoking. Tom told himself that he was not waiting for her anymore, yet every night he stood on his balcony, stealing glances at hers.

“Hi.” A small voice said. Tom turned his head.

“Hi.” He answered then put out his cigarette and was ready to get back inside.

“Wait. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry ? Ok. And what am I supposed to do with that ?”

“Don’t be like that Tom. It has nothing to do with you.”

 She was as pretty as she was two weeks prior. Her eyes were still sparkling and she was wearing the same dress she wore the last time he saw her, as if she was taunting him.

 “Nothing to do with me ?” Tom repeated, anger slowly rising in his guts. “Why didn’t you call then ? Why did you leave ? Two weeks. I haven't seen you in two weeks. You’ve been avoiding me for two fucking weeks Hermione. Or should I call you 1A ? It’s not like we mean something to each other, right ?”

“You’re acting like a child...”

“Like a child ? You’ve been ghosting me for two weeks, and I am the child ?”

 They both stopped talking, lost in their thoughts.

“Why are you here ?” Tom finally asked.

“I’m here for you.”

“For me ?” He lit up another cigarette. “I don’t need you. You can leave. You have my blessing.” Tom spat. “You can fuck whoever you want. Yes, I’ve heard the voices. The male voices inside your apartment. I was just another notch on your belt.”

“Tom…”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

 She just looked at him.

 *****************

 He came back home after work with a precise idea in his head. He went directly for the balcony and saw her already there, waiting for him.

“Let’s start over.” He started. “You’re 1A, I’m 1B. Tom, Hermione. I smoke, you don’t like that. You have a cat, I don’t like it. That’s from where we start again. How about that ?”

“We can’t and you know it.” She answered.

“No, I don’t. Explain it. You’re the one who started flirting with me. You’re the one who wanted to come over. You’re the one who started this entire thing with your sticky notes.”

“Actually you did ! On my moving day !” She retorted in the firmest voice he had heard for days.

 Tom was taken aback.

“I feel like we keep having the same conversations.” He realised.

“Because you do.”

 *****************

 Olive Hornby was currently sleeping in his bed. He couldn’t stand the idea of laying next to her. It didn’t feel right. So he went outside, to clear his head and smoke a cigarette.

“Had a fun night ?”

He snorted at her comment.

“So you avoided me for two weeks and now I can’t even have a moment alone without you. Leave already.”

“Do you really want that ?”

 He turned his head and noticed that her skin looked paler under the moonlight. She didn’t have the same sparkle in her eyes as she used to. She seemed tired.

“I had a fun night actually.” Tom spoke up.

“You’re lying to yourself.” She snorted. “You’d be with her if it were the case. Seems like you can’t forget me.” She answered in a soft voice.

“You can’t say things like that.” He snapped.

“It’s just the truth Tom. And you know it”

“Stop playing with me !” He took a step back and faced her. “Why do you keep coming to the balcony ?”

 She stayed silent.

 “Why do you keep coming to the balcony if you don’t want to be with me anymore ?” He repeated, a little louder this time.

 She just kept looking at him.

 “Say something !” He barked.

“I should leave.”

 She turned around.

“Don’t ! I-”

But she already left.

 *****************

 Tom was sat against the wall, the guardrail on his left.

“I’m crazy. I think I’m going crazy.” Tom stated.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who belongs in a mental institution.” Hermione snorted in a small voice.

 He looked at her. She seemed so far away. She was tired, her eyes were dull, her lips were not a pink as he remembered. And she never laughed anymore.

“Why don’t you laugh anymore ?” He asked her. “You used to laugh so much. That’s what made me fall in love with you. You were so full of life. Always laughing, always had something to say. Now it just feels like I‘m the only one talking. Like I’m talking to myself.”

 A silence settled between them.

“Am I crazy ?” He whispered.

“Why do you say that ?”

“Because I’m still talking to you.”

“You can always talk to me.”

“No. Not like that.”

 He sadly smiled at her.

“If I could go back in time, to that night, I would do so much more. First, we wouldn’t have stayed in. I would have shown you my favourite part of the city, you would have shown me yours. We would have gone to a library, because you’re a dork. Then we would have gone to my favourite bar and I would have offered you a glass of your favourite fruity wine. Hell the bottle if you wanted it ! Then you would have met my friends, and they would have loved you. Because, what’s not to love ? Finally we would have come back to your place. You leave earlier for work, it seems logical. Because you wouldn't have been late then, you would have walked to work like you usually did instead of taking the car. And I would have spent the night basking in the smell of citrus.”

 His eyes filled with tears.

 “I miss it.” He repeated several times. “I miss you. But I think we should go our separate ways.”

“Do you want that ?”

 Tom looked at her one last time. She wasn’t even looking like herself anymore, he couldn’t even really remember what she looked like anymore.

 “How do people who’ve seen ghost really know they’re seeing ghosts ? Maybe they’re just all crazy.” He sighed taking a drag on his cigarette, Hermione leaning closer, a worried expression on her face.

 “I used to want to see a ghost. Then, I thought I did, but maybe… Maybe I just went crazy instead.”

“Why do you say that ? Why you would want to see a ghost ?” She asked.

“I guess I’ve always hoped I could see someone who had died. Someone I cared about.” He said glumly.

“Like me ?” She murmured.

 He looked at her balcony. He looked at the wilted flowers that used to be full of life, because she took care of them. He looked at the windows, that hadn’t been open for weeks now, since Ron and Harry came to move out her furniture. He then looked at the floor, the one she used to clean every single day because he had the habit of spreading his cigarette’s ashes on it. Now it had not been cleaned for a month.

 Finally, he looked at where she was a couple of minutes before. She wasn’t there anymore.

 “Yeah, like you.”

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc V: Back into Hell (III)

Chapter 3: The Mis-Steak of a Lifetime

“I’ve been scooping off samples, passing them off as a meat slurry concoction.” Shatner then pointed to a section of the thing that looked like it had been lopped off via multiple marks from an ice cream scoop. “Carbon dating, as conducted by myself, suggests it has dwelled in this basement here since the upper Oligocene.”

I tried to force us to step back, wanting to hurl, but the Shatster held.

“You need not fear anything, Watt. The current conditions of camp have rendered the beast totally immobile. Unfortunate, as we may have yet been able to weaponized it…”

The idea that the thing had been squirming under the camp the whole time I’d been there was enough to make my skin crawl, and frankly, the casual way Shat spoke of the thing was just unsettling.

But despite our differences, despite the things that made me awesome and Shatner a total nerd, we had a strong bond, one thicker than life itself, which led us to meet again or something philosophical like that: a desire to get back at Hilda!

The question was, how?

There were two problems, for starters:

•        As I mentioned earlier, I made master plans like I did my homework: under last minute panic. But we didn’t exactly have that sort of time on our hands.

•        Shatner had banked on me bringing in supplies and enforcements. A LOT more than I actually had, to say it nice.

Topping everything off, Hilda had an army of the best suck ups in the state at her beck and call.

           Shatner stared down at the sponge dinos in his- our- hands while they tried to maul his fingernail in the adorable way only cute little dinosaurs can. If only he wasn’t so worried about our imminent demise, he might have appreciated it. In fact, it ended up having to be yours truly that wrapped them up in his (our!) sweater to make sure they didn’t freeze.

“Is there any way we could, I dunno, get them to water?” I asked.

Shatner just shook his head.

“No good. All frozen up, I’m afraid.”

And with that, any plan we could have made was deader than disco.

“So that’s how we die then. Frozen at Camp Sham, waiting for a distant future when Moon Monkeys, or Flower People, or Jeopardy! Or whatever has replaced the human race as the dominant species on the Earth to discover us so they use our iced corpses as mannequins in their department stores.”

“Wait! Say that again!” cried Shatner.

Or would we?

“What, how we’re going to be frozen in ice?”

“No, the other part!”

“Dominant species?”

“Closer, closer!” Shatner rubbed his hands together. Even without being able to see ‘em, I could feel the sparks of scheming burning something fierce in his eyes.

“Dude, I was just talking about our frozen bod-“

“Exactly! BODIES! Bodies! You find bodies in a morgue. Which stink of alcohol. Which you find in bars. And why do people go to bars? To meet their friends! And who’s the best friend of all? SCIENCE! Because the only prerequisite science requires of you is…?”

He made the exact same pause Mr. Finster, my math teacher, would give me whenever he wanted to make sure I was paying attention. And just like with the Finster’s class, I had not the slightest lick of what to say.

“Uhhh… a PhD?”

“No, you fool! A BRAIN!”

To this day, I have no idea how the Shatster got that idea, and I’m still pretty sure having a PhD before doing sciency stuff is the right way of thinking, but at that point, I just wanted to feel my fingers again. Shatner, meanwhile, had taken a pen and paper (which all nerds carry on them) and was drawing the most detailed picture of the human noggin I’ve ever seen. Though considering the most detailed picture of a noggin I’d ever seen was a life sketch of a wad of bubblegum I’d churned out for art class, this wasn’t really saying much.

“And how the hey did you come to know so much about this thing?” I asked.

This question just got me a quizzed look.

“We learned about it in Science Class this year.”

Science Class this year

Year

Year

Year.

The words whooshed through my frozen little head, an echo through the wilderness of a ten-year-old mind struggling to comprehend the greatest plot twist since the discovery dinosaurs are birds!

“Hold the phone! We shared a science class?!”

“Yes, and also a homeroom and literature. I sat right next to you!”

           Now that he mentioned it, I did have a kid sitting next to me, though most of my school memories consisted of looking out the windows, wondering if each passing cloud might possibly be the shadow of a dinosaur, back from the dead to wreak havoc and rescue us from the crapsack brains factory they called Ronald Reagan Charter School. And by rescue I mean eat the teachers and convert the place into a dinosaur nest! Alas, all I could ever do was doodle little dinosaurs in the margins of my notebooks (or sometimes use up whole pages if I felt I could get away with it).

Shatner snapped his fingers.

“So as I was saying.” He began. “The human brain is the closest thing our species has to a control panel. Of course, it is a very well concealed one that, unless one is very deft at surgery or runs a television company, cannot easily be controlled en masse.”

The little dinos stared out from my sweater, listening more intently than I ever could.

“However, science has shown that once such barriers are passed, the brain is surprisingly vulnerable to exterior suggestion. As early as the late 19th century, people have found that even sending electrical pulses through the brain of a dead frog in the right areas could evoke muscular spasms-“

“Your point?”

Booger Kid rubbed his hands together. I could feel the plan brewing around in his head. Made it kinda hot, really.

With that he unleashed a long lecture on the structure of my good old fashioned grey matter that basically boiled down to having the dinos crawl in people brains and play around until it did something. I know this because the Stegosaurus explained it to me. And if ol’ Steggs has to explain something to you, you know you’re plugged in the intellect department!

But the point is, we had the inklings plan, and darn it, we were going to put it into action!

[vertigoambrosia]

i’m exhausted but let’s see how much of road to new york i can watch

awww look at veit in the intro!

and karsten!

starting off with the new cham calling me a bitch

i know i always complain about the vimeo roku app but jesus christ three minutes in it starts desyncing that’s just teasing

chromecast please be less shitty than the last time

i accidentally went to bed instead of actually trying chromecast but i swear i am going to get throigh the entire show without going to sleep again

man this promo is so bland compared to usualy bobby stufrr

it’s kinda like...generic face

‘i always play fair’ really andy?

also - he’s coming to vinny to complain?

oh boywhat is this man cooking up

?? um why did this recap of the tag title change not include brookes cheating? that’s like...kind of an important plot point?

oh wait i guess we’re just supposed to be happy schadenfreude are here or something

i’ve got nothing against them but i adore rise and i kind of feel like this is undermining them since like, schadenfreude are a big uk thing so of COURSE everyone

brookes you show up like three times a year and two of those are the biggest events of the year shut the fuck up

that’s a little bit of an exaggeration but like...ehhhhhhhhh

the thing is that it’s not such bullshit that people will boo it or mock like - like, its not ridiculoise enouigh

oh it’s jurn. come to fight marius.

ugh he didn’t even drramatically take off the cape

actually it would be nice if the shotgun title changed hands on a rando road to show

not that i really want jurn to have a belt right now though

the gayest pin wins it

that was a really short match too...

KARSTEN

IN HIS GOLD BOWTIE

i can’t be cranky about this

oh boy

HE JUST ATE HIS APPLE

i am choosing to believe karsten is subtly shitting on the whole nick hein situation

‘yes fans, i was watching at home like ???? as well’

that shirt irie has is kind of amazing

i am....not exactly excited about a fourth bobby

HAHAHAHA THIS OVERDUB MUSIC FOR EMIL

IT WAS DEFINITELY NOT THAT SILLY CREEPY PIANO IN PERSON, RIGHT?

am i remmbering it wrong?

THIS STROBE

HIS EYELINER

oh this is........

he is actually an emo

emil is 20000% the wrong person for this gimmick

CROWCHESTER

please give us a crowchester promo i need to hear this strange bird child speak

my friend was talking about how her husband is suprisingly into supernatural and i told her about crowchester and she thought it was the funniest fucking thing on the planet

this is a lil rough around the edges but thats ok

marius wtf stay away from these nice boys

oh here comes sad emo

marius can’t stay away from the older men can he

wow i did not recognize pretty bastards in normal clothes

man they used to have title cards for everyone

i love lucky holding up the trophy to schadenfreude

WHOLESOME TIME

aw but pete is mad

strict father

awww don’t scold him

now i have to scold pete on twitter for being too stern with his son

yuu is going back to japan in april and that makes me sad

they really need to work on an actual regular womens roster again

wesna: *chops yuu*

yuu: *chops wesna back*

wesna: how dare u

i know wesna is pretty firmly in gwf so that’s probably why she doesn’t show up often

but i wish we had like...enough comen that we had feuds or at least ineractions outside of the title scene

i mean, last tour we at least had kelly being confused by kris

but at this point kelly is apparently out of the title scene, yuu is leaving in a month,

huh, surprised wesna won that, especially since yuu has been booked pretty strongly in the matches she’s in

oh i guess maybe we will get toni vs wesna?

david :(

btw in case you hadn’t heard david starr did a great promo for an roh championship match where he totally shat on sinclair broadcasting, their parent company who is also really shitty and roh does NOT like being reminded that they’re attached to them

aw david

one of the reasons i love david starr is those moments where he starts freaking out and has to stop to recollect his regather his words

i like when heroes get “over” emotional and they’re still heroes and strong and it matters a lot to me, a person with too many emotions

‘alan, appreciate what you do...please leave right now

david :(

i want to say the arrows are definitely winning this but idk

i like the arrows but pretty bastards are sillier as characters

also i love that a boy named ‘maggot’ is a silly pretty boy

the son of nothing...but also beautiful

that one promo they had that was just them arguing about who was hotter was comedy gold

also remember the time ahura got a shotgun title shot just cause he obliviously walked through an outdoor smoking break and bobby got mad at him?

LOL THAT BACK BODY DROP

boys maybe you’d hit crossfire more often if you didn’t scream it every time before you do it

YAY

aw veit :3

! veit’s married? i see a wedding ring

but he is a child????

so it turns out that perhaps chromecast is only kinda garbage, and my computer is super garbage???

why is ‘keine chicks’ so funny to me

NICE

hahaha ahura’s face

AWW LOOK TISCHER IS SO PROUD OF VEIT

oh uh btw does wxw know that rammstein amerika song is about how america sucks

vinny is kind of boring as a wrestler

forearm forearm forearm forearm

that happened

nice outfit veit

david honey you talk enough that you don’t need people to pass messages for your

*david voice* i’m gonna beat walter’s son and then i’m gonna beat walter

aww this is super cute

‘guy can we chill a little bit’ awww lucky

this card for revenge looks fun

lol i have less than two days to watch it before the new york show

oh julian has his (tear away) racing suit now

I’M NOT A CAR I’M NOT A CAR

i would say that emil being crazy a dude who just really wants to get destroyed would be more interesting than old man emo, but ilja already does that excellently soooooo

i mean, it’d be less embarassing/cringey, but yeah ilja already does that and is fucking extra

pfff he was in monster consulting for barely a minute

is emil having a mid life crisis

like, his ‘i don’t give a fuck’ stuff he’s doing in the ring right now is like....not the same thing as his emo demeanor and what he’s saying in promos

i would say ‘why would marius hang out with such a sad sack’ but duhhhh it’s cause emil has a BODEY

i like leon van gasteren they should keep him around for a while

he was around for like two minutes last year

wait what? if julian wasn’t the legal man, and then he tagged....why is leon still the legal man

oh last week i was leaving the train and this one lady REEKED of coconut oil and i thought of what you guys said about emil

leon is disco happiness to combat emil’s depression

thta’s anoither weird thing about emil’s gimmick - we had an actual depression storyline so it’s hard not to think about emil as being like, actually depressed? and so i’ts like...can someone just send him to a therapist? the netherlands has national health care, right?

emil vs marius? who are we supposed to root for there?

LAX vs the crown is gonna own hometown boys better win though

[thekryptonianandthecitygirl]

Chuckling as Chloe goes to get them a couple of beers, equally outraged and disgusted by her neighboors dancing like no one is watching, her eyes wander next to the dance floor again, settling on one of the tables left to the stage.

And here he is.

Expression focused on what Tom is saying, he nods, both arms crossed on the wooden table as people move around them, wiggling to get to their own table, to the crowded bar or towards the front of the scene where Eddy and his band are letting loose.

He's changed a lot, since she last saw him.

Saw him fo real, that is: God knows she sees him a lot, on the news. Everytime, it brings a smile to her face: despite his father's advice, he'd been wanting to use his powers for good for years, and now, he's finally doing it. Deep down, she's always known he would.

Physically, he's the same, with his mop of dark curls and his gigantic frame softened by the flannel shirt and the sincerity in his blue eyes. His strong jaw and perfectly shaped face still betray his God-like heritage, though. At one point, he chuckles at what his companion says, beer in hand, and it occurs to her that she forgot just how beautiful he is. Not just cute, or sexy -

Truly beautiful.

He's still the same, and yet, something's changed. The boy she knew was lost, confused. Haunted by so many questions he couldn't get answers to, it was eating him alive. The boy she knew was scared – of others, of himself. The boy she knew struggled under the weight of so much interrogations, so much responsability and, later, so much pain brought by the loss of one of the two people he loved the most on this planet. Tonight -

Tonight, the man she sees seems - liberated. At peace.

And maybe it's because the world has accepted him now. That most certainly plays a part, in fact: after so many rejections, so much trouble fitting in, it seems he's finally found his place and purpose. Yes, she thinks, that is indeniably part of why the man she has before her tonight is so different from the one she knew, but she also knows that that change comes from something else.

Someone, really. It's not that hard to notice, when you look.

She comes back to the table discretely, smiling at Clark when he looks up at her before sliding on her chair next to him. His eyes light up.

Not just his eyes, really – his entire face does, and even if he was already smiling, she can still see a change. She's pretty sure it doesn't come from the fact that she knows him that well, it's just – oh so obvious.

For a reason she pretends to ignore, that sight both warms her heart and makes it ache.

She's heard about her, of course – through Martha, who was kind enough to simpy carefully mention her when she asked about Clark, but didn't elaborate much, but also from, well, everyone. Since day one, Superman's story has been linked to the name of Lois Lane.

She had never seen her, though. Not before tonight.

The first thing that jumped to her eyes when they first entered the bar was her confidence. It wasn't cockiness, or self-satisfaction, far from it, but – she hoozed confidence. Assurance. It's a trait that transpired throuh her writing, she thought. So sure, so completely sure, even in her words. Of herself, of shat she believes in.

Of him.

In a lot of ways, Lois seems to be a lot like him. The articles she read clearly showed how sharp and blunt and in your face she was, but there was also a profound goodness there, a sense of fairness, a quest for justice. Some they that opposite attract, others that birds of a feather flock together, but in their case, it seemed that both sayings were valid.

And she's beautiful. She really is.

Long auburn hair framing her face, her crossed arms brush his on the table. She's answering to something Tom just said, and, as she rolls her eyes for drama effect, both men smile. It's another thing she's noticed, tonight.

He smiles a lot with her. Laughs a lot, too.

"Jeez! Sorry it took that long, but the bar is packed," Chloe suddenly re-emerges from the crowd, two beers in hands, startling her as she quickly yank her eyes away from them. Her friend frowns. "You okay?"

Forcing a smile, she nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Lana?"

Startled, she looks up from her purse and turns around.

Oh. As he realizes it's indeed her, a smile makes its way on his face and, despite her surprise, she can't help her own. "Hi."

"Hey," she answers, hoping he doesn't notice how slightly higher her voice is. Chuckling awkwardly for a couple of seconds, they stand there like two idiots before he leans in and hugs her, and Lana focuses very hard not to ler her heartbeat skyrocket.

She knows that he can hear that, too.

Breaking the embrace, he shakes his head, beaming at her.

"I didn't know you were here tonight," he admits, and a part of her can't help but think that once upon a time, he could always tell where she was. "It's been – forever."

"Yeah, Eddy would have killed me if I hadn't shown. And I saw you, but you were busy, so. I thought you left, actually," she frowns, eyeing the door behind him.

"I did, yes, but – left something behind," he explains, lifting his arm to show her the black and orange Indian scarf he's holding. Pursing her lips, she nodds seriously.

"Well, it would have been a shame: orange is such a good colour for you." Playing along, he sighs.

"I know – It would have broken my heart." Chuckling with her, Clark nods towards the road. "Can I walk you back to your car?"

"Yeah, sure," she smiles. Clark Joseph Kent – still the perfect gentleman.

Both digging their hands in their jackets, they start walking side by side.

"So: how is Europe? My mom told me you moved over there a couple of years ago."

"Three, actually. And it was fine – good even. But I'm not going back, though."

He looks at her, a little surprised.

"Really? Why?" She shrugs.

"I don't know...Homesick, maybe? It feels like the time to come home, I guess. Plus, I just broke up with someone, so it's not like there's anything tying me up back there."

"I'm sorry," he says, and she knows that he really is.

"Thanks. It's fine, though – It wasn't a big love thing or anything, so. And hey, now I'm back!" she cheers, and he chuckles.

"I'm sure your parents are over the moon," he tells her knowingly, well aware of their over protective and over loving side. She rolls her eyes to confirm, and he chuckles again.

She takes the opportunity to glance at him, his perfectly defined strong jaw lightened by the lamps on the sidewalks. She makes herself look away when he speaks again. "Are you planning on moving back to Smallville?"

"I don't think so. I don't think there's much for me here. Literally, actually: there's not exactly a lot of marketing agencies that can get me a job in the area, from what I hear."

"I'm sure the iHop would love to employ you in their marketing team or something," he smiles as their eyes meet. "If you don't want to go too far from home, Metropolis is good. It's dynamic, it's a good place to live. There's marketing agencies," he raises his eyebrows at her. "And I can give you the adress of the best Italian restaurant in the world."

"Well, if you put it like that," she beams, feigning awe.

They take a few more steps before she speaks again, a little more serious this time despite the smirk she gives him. "I hear their hero is kinda cool, too." He smiles back, and although it's a little shy, it's genuine.

He's finally embraced who he is, and is at peace with it.

"I don't know about that, but - I hear he's doing good, yeah.""

"Isn't it hard, sometimes?", she dares to ask, because she wants to know. Superman never lets it show – no matter how bad the situation, no matter how hard, how horrific, how heartbreaking, he's always reassuring, always standing up to help, never weavering.

Always the hero they need him to be.

But she knows that he's not unaffected by all of this. Nobody could be, least of all him.

Eyes on the ground before his feet, he shrugs, then speaks again. "It can be. But there's also the bright sides, you know? The people that do get to live. The ones that get to keep their family. And it's not easy, even with that, but -"

He thinks for a few seconds, then says simply. "I'm not alone."

And he's not. His whole life, he had been, had felt completely lost and lonely and alone, so alone, and now he doesn't have to and God, how she's grateful. Now, he has a whole city behind him – a whole world. He has friends among the elected and among the people, he has superheros friends that have his back.

He has a family, and even if the thought always makes her heart ache sometimes, she's happy because she knows that he's finally found where he belongs. His home.

"She looks really great. I mean, from what I read and heard and saw from afar – she sounds amazing." Clark looks at her, careful, and she smiles to let him know it's okay. "And she has very nice taste in scarf," she jokes as she points towards the piece of fabric still in his hand. He chuckles, a little relaxed.

"She does. And she is," he confirms as they arrive to her car. They both silently agree to lean on the fence boarding the corn field she's parked next to. "She doesn't have any interest in football," he says with a sad expression, and she makes an overly shocked face.

They both loved it so much growing up, their parents actually started making secret plans to engage their interest in anything else, at one point. "But she's – I don't think I would be able to do it without her."

Lana knows he's not telling her all the ways she's perfect to him, all the ways he loves her because he cares about not hurting her own feelings, and yet, it's that simple sentence that stings the most, somehow. She doesn't want it to. And with time, maybe it will pass.

Despite all that, she's still happy for him.

"Then I'm glad you found her. Or that she's found you, from what I understood," and he chuckles. "And very late congratulations, by the way: it's a pretty handsome kid you two made." She watches as his face lights up in the night.

"Did my mother show you pictures of him for half and hour?," he winces, but there's more pride than embarassment in her tone. "Because she tends to do that." Lana chuckles.

"No, I just saw them from afar at the fair this afternoon. I didn't get a chance to go say hi, but yeah – she definitely was showing off, proud grandma style," and he rolls his eyes, amused. "Come on, let her brag. He is really cute, after all."

"He is. Runs far too much for a two year-old, if you ask me, but - he's great."

"What's his name?" He looks at her, smiles.

"Jon – Jonathan," and she smiles, too. "Her idea, actually."

"Does he know? That his dad wears tights, I mean," and throwing his head back, he laughs.

"He doesn't, no. He's too young to even properly understand what's happening, anyway. We don't know when or how to tell him, to be honest - although if he's anything like his mom, and he is, he'll figure it out by himself, anyway."

She chuckles, and then she keeps on laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "What?" he enquires, amused.

"Nothing, it's just – I can't believe you're a dad," she smiles, head turning to meet his blue eyes. To this day, she still hasn't seen more deep and intense ones.

When she speaks again, her voice is a little softer. "I can't believe you've become Superman. Slash reporter Kent, of course", she adds with a chuckle. Eyes not leaving hers, his smile is gentle, and, just like before, just like he always have, she thinks he knows exactly what she thinks, what she feels.

What she's not saying.

"I know. Still feel a bit surreal, sometimes."

"I believe you. But I'm really glad you're okay, Clark."

They smile at each other for a few seconds, after so many years, she lost track, and, as they stand there in the moonlight, Lana is grateful she at least got to see him again. Got to speak to him again.

Dropping her gaze before she gets too emotional, she frowns, then looks back up at him, arms crossed against her chest.

"So, about the Batman thing: is it like, Matt Damon or something? Or Ben Affleck? Because I really think it's one of them, but if it isn't, I have so many theories."

He laughs out loud.

[randomnameless]

Chapter 5 - Ludbeck to Phinora

Siggy hates sand, Quan miscalculates and some people are worried after seeing their lord part with his son, so they talk to their friends. TFW you die because of game mechanics, RIP Quan!

the barbarian gang is here! And he isn’t in the way Jamke, it’s not because you can mop up the arena reliably that everyone can do the same. Ask Midir.

Maybe he matured or grew up seeing so many people die ? no, of course not.

Everyone’s feeling dreadful. The BGM isn’t helping.

because you saw the kids run away, like idk, birds run away from a danger when they can?

Daw! Verdanite solidarity

i know it wasn’t meant like that but the comparison with animals sensing danger isn’t that far off, maybe the devs wanted to make us believe Dew was more in touch with “nature” because he is special, or because he is a verdanite? not cool.

he got hit at 19% and a lot of people reblogged and laughed at his misfortune how can he be happy?

oh i nearly forgot him it’s not like we were close anyways - but i still tried to kill him

Oh at least you have some feelings. Unlike some sisters who murdered their douche bro i suppose

Yep, he deserved it. I bet Lex’d really get along with Bridget. Why are so afraid of your brother Azel?

again Arvis is called “decent”. Compared to the ones of Langbalt and Dannan he sure is, or pretends to be! I think the old translation was weird on this point and implied Azel might have known Viccy when it’s impossible.

Arvis is bipolar? Or sometimes he stops pretending being a decent fellow?

bleh, actually he wasn’t at home, he was in Barhara. But yeah, the thing is here. Funny how Lex can finish Azel’s sentences, they are really close!

you know that short convo is better than some supports i’ve read recently

It’s QUAN!!! Rumours sure are circulating quickly in this Jugdral continent or, again, between Quan and Ludbeck castle being seized, some months happened.

gentlemen - i understand there are no mounted archers like Selfina and i’m sure it won’t bite you in the rear right

more later than sooner, because lol!sand

Ethlyn! Again you’re having some meaningul, dreadful convo. Yes you were dragged into this and dragged your husband too, but your dad never thought about you.

Damn that Calf again a king is ill and he sends a lot of soldiers away - but he’s a badass so he is forgiven, unlike our good pal Azmur.

Well... Granvalle would have extended its Raj to Manster anyways, and the Freeges will actually sit on your throne for some decades.

Well it actually is. They have the best strategist ever on their side after all!

Fighting abroad for a just cause... It has merits, but Quan also has some duty of assisstance to Chalphy because his wife was a Chalphy. Marriage means alliances.

want to take a bet?

Yes, any help. Especially a mounted healer like you and since the Axe crusader died Quan can fight now.

ETHLYN NO

Hey - what about our mounted healer?? Siggy needs her, Raquie’s the only one otherwise (because i forgot to give a staff to Erin)

So Altena’s 3! And how can she be sleeping while Ethlyn’s riding? It’s uncomfortable!

What indeed?

second bet?

you had some sense at one point, but you lost it. Why?

oh. a child crying is a very irritating sound indeed. it totally justifies - wait no.

Oh, Leif exists! Who wants to play WTF is a timeline? or maybe he was 15 and 11 months in FE5′s first chapter!

Finn is such a reliable soldier, he can defend the capital and the Lady Ethlyn on his own!

the last person who said something like that is suddenly married to her brother you don’t want that do you Ethlyn?

Quan just can’t say no to Ethlyn’s puppy eyes!

at this point, even if Ethlyn listened to Quan and backtracked, she’d be killed by Travant so it was a die-die situation. Is it a mistake to take a woman with you on the battlefield? There are no women fighting in Thracia? And what is Eda then, a bench warmer? Or maybe Travant decided to allow women to become soldiers when Altena enrolled.

OH NO HE IS USING TERRAIN ADVANTAGE TRAVANT YOU DASTARD - it’s like killing someone who’s sitting in the privy!

YOU WISH - Finn and Glade and Leif’s ragtag army are the Lanzenritter 2.0!

Your plan would have worked, if Arvis didn’t backstab you. Dastard vs Dastard.

yes we are serious what you expect a game with pies and peeping toms?

dismount you’ll be faster! “how do i dismount we don’t know this technology as of yet!” “crap”

wild hyenas? Even if your last moments you’re racist Quan! Never change.

and you’re only saying this NOW???

i thought they’d attack my castle and die like the usual monday night!

this was actually quite clever from Travant&co, attacking Quan means destroying the guy who wields the Gae Bolg, and since Calf is old (?) Travant could have waited 5 years to attack the now defenseless Leonster. But sadly, Travant’s master plan will be later revealed to have been a part of the Sect.

GRAVE MISCALCULATION YOU MEAN

don’t forget the power of love crits - but dual gard doesn’t exist :’(

meanwhile - Reptor is shiting in his pants. If he had Langbalt’s leash, then Arvis has his?

the true mastermind is revealed!

haha, you think Velthomers respect their promises? BIG MISTAKE REPTOR

baseless - well one of your Crusader died to a peon, so i wouldn’t call that baseless.

what, they’re like those modern SWAT/commandos units, hiding under sand coloured blanket ready to Meteor randoms from afar?

and here Travant’s master idea is actually revealed to have been Arvis’ master idea. I doubt Arvis told him to attack Quan&co precisely, but he hired them to cross that stupid desert, so Quan or no Quan they’d have been here anyways. Was it just a coincidence that Quan happened to cross the desert at that time? Only FE5 will tell.

so long as they cooperate^^ Reptor doesn’t want to become the king anymore, Arvis beat him at his own game. GG Arvis.

oh he won’t forget them don’t worry about that

HAHA - you won’t have Agustria but Manster and hm, A FORMER MERCHANT REPUBLIC

you honoured the Dozel’s rights to these territories but shat on the Freeges. Freege-Velthomer relations are always kind of complicated.

hey it’s manfroy! I haven’t seen you in a long time!

Pissed but still arrogant!Arvis is the best Arvis. What, Manfroy should wear a mask?

This is wonderful - especially compared to the 2ng gen. How the mighty will fall!

Roh. if he does that he dies (or at least he thinks so) and you’re not the only guys he’s hiding.

HEY DON’T CALL THEM BUFFONS BUFFON YOURSELF AT LEAST THEY TRIED TO GET RID OF THE BROKEN WEAPON WHEN YOU WILL FAIL TO KILL JULIA OKAY?

Arvis’ discourse. Hear him well.

sadly your opinion doesn’t matter.

he will remember - when you’ll be dead he’ll tell Julius not to be sad because you’d have turned on them at one point or another.

There’s the blood of my esteemed Father, Victor?

poor Maira, he fought for a just cause but is still remembered as a dirty Loptyrian by the masses.

one true heir - Saias who? - I don’t think it was explained in side materials but why is Vala Loptyr’s sworn enemy? 

But to create this world you’ll oppress randoms and be a tyrant?

Manfroy sees right through his bullshit. Arvis wants to create his perfect world, but if can kill two birds with a stone, he’ll use that damn stone.

Arvis is aware - or has doubts - about Deedee’s past life. Or past husband at least.

it’s not like using capslock makes you more convincing your know? If you need to shout it then maybe it’s not truly the case? at least from Deedee’s pov, which is, per side materials, the reason why she’ll come just before the fireworks.

EVEN MANFROY SUPPORTS THE IDEA OF JULIA BECOMING A KING

is it some sort of foreshadowing who wants to be welcomed with meteors??

“gladly”

how has that guy managed to be here? The Rotten Ritter’s training regimen includes a climbing module? no wonder why Azel ran away

no you didn’t i didn’t screencap it. Ayra won’t abandon people at such a crucial hour because Isaachian repays their debts.

you remember this Siggy? and why should shanan be protected, no one wants to kill him in Isaach, right? 

he is 15 he is old enough to fight. I talked about this with that Leonster knight and he said 15 is a good age to fight.

“oh come on, Dew’s pretty young too!” Yeah you’ll return Ayra. in your dreams!

Ayra isn’t a soldier but she became Siggy’s friend. she’s changed from Verdane!

But what about Siggy’s BFF?

OH NO he has the plot hax band! You can’t win this one Quan! Unless you proc a lover crit!

NOOO LEONSTER’S BANE - that’s it everyone’s dead.

Even if they have horselayers!

well it failed. RIP Ethlyn! (note how she doesn’t mention Leif in her dying breath and that’s mean - Leif’s true mom is Eyvel)

by the way you keep on calling her “woman” I think you didn’t know she was his wife.

OH NO! He took a bet, he won’t die with the Gae Bolg in hand but if he doesn’t have it then...

are you playing a wicked game of chess?

worry not quan, your sacrifice will make Leif a hero!

so he won’t lose the bet, at least.

“stupid sand i hate sand”

WELP - the dastard leaves him with 1HP

At least you mention your son unlike some mom i knew - is this Quan’s way to say “avenge me Leif” like Langbalt and André did?

Siggy’s already grieving.

even on Dew’s ???

“you see my dragon is kind of hungry and i thought...”

“oh i know you want her to feed YOUR dragon!”

“stop trying to think and just go against Siggy”. Magorn apologises a lot, poor guy :’(

Meanwhile Noish destroys vaha out of spite. Forgive her failure Arvis! “nah, she was expected to fail anyways”

he has purple dragon! Is Dagda living in the mountains where those dragons have their nests? I don’t take this personaly Magorn, i played FE5.

you mean “we finally crossed half of this blaster desert”.

Seliph’s most likely crying and Oifey has to change him, but otherwise they should be okay!

Well it was most likely a Velthomer outpost to begin with so... I bet they used the city when they went on the Isaach campaign.

Quan sent a last carrier pigeon

Yep, wars are everywhere but worry not elder, they’ll stop soon!

that’s quite the detailed message you received, elder!

of course you add “it seems”. Sneaky old man, did the message said Altena was captured?

Is Ethlyn the young girl? Since everyone has been calling Altena a kid or a babe, I suppose Ethlyn’s mentioned here.

And Siggy just lost his remaining family! Be safe Seliph (and Oifey)!

[romancevsreality-blog]

vanderpump rules, season five, episode eight: i bet jax’s farts smell like protein.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, WEIRDOS!

You look amazing! How was your holiday? Great? Great. I love these catch-ups.

GENERIC POP MUSIC - this one’s “na na na na na” and just “na na na na na” over shots of the Golden Gate Bridge because we ain’t in Los Angeles no more, honey. We’re celebrating Ariana’s birthday and still wondering where Lala ran off to. Apparently, Lala just decided not to show up and flaked. As a person with friends who tend to ghost and flake1, while Lala’s in the wrong, at least she had the gall to text to tell them she wasn’t going. It’s still weird, though. She doesn’t really have a reason not to come. Sandoval surprised everyone with an RV! Jax says

“This couldn’t get any better,” which I suppose is what you say when you’re 80 years old and have only experienced horrible things.

I watched this episode with my boyfriend and I yelled out “Can they stop saying RVs are awesome?!” and he said that he thinks they’re awesome, so I’m single now. Brittany also thinks RVs sounds like a great time, but Kentucky Fried Brittany gets a pass2. RVs are not awesome. They’re shit machines on wheels. I can sleep in a car, I don’t need a full bedroom in my car. No one can sell me on the idea that RVs are awesome. No. They’re still in the parking lot when Sandoval swipes a parking roof on his way out because these people don’t know what to do with nice things.

EXTERIOR: NEW YORK CITY. STATUE OF LIBERTY! COLUMBUS CIRCLE! EMPIRE STATE BUILDING! We join Stassi, Kristen, Katie, and Scheana for Stassi’s 28th Birthday in Montauk with the Wirkus twins from Summer House, coming this winter on Bravo. We’re greeted with a montage of Stassi’s worst birthdays3 Stassi is primarily excited to finally be a chameleon because everything in Montauk is blue and white and everything Stassi packed is blue and white! Yay, chameleons! Katie and Stassi knock on wood that Scheana won’t be a party pooper and want to do the things they want to do and not the things Scheana wants to do because Scheana is so 2000-and-late.

Ariana and Tom spent up the butt for tickets to a NASCAR game (why) and Ariana’s worried that Lala not showing up is going to give everyone grounds to hate her. And she’s completely right. Brittany’s complaining to Jax that he didn’t sit next to her on the plane, and he just doesn’t like to spend all of his time with his significant other. I hate agreeing with Jax, but I’m a big fan of personal space and alone time when you can get it. Brittany decided to FaceTime Scheana and immediately tells Scheana that Lala didn’t come up to Sonoma. Scheana, of course, is mad because she couldn’t go on the trip because Lala took her space, but it’s okay because she’s in Montauk with three women who can’t stand her! Yay, Scheana! Brittany calls the Sonoma trip “a redneck dream”, to which I said, “I thought the 2016 election was a redneck’s dream.” I am so witty.

Lisa Vanderpump is obligated to appear in every episode of this show, so, of course, they call her from where she’s delegating Peter/Ray Romano as to what to do at Sexy Unique Restaurant that night. Ariana for some reason asks Lisa if she’d seen Lala under the guise of wondering if she came into work. Lisa is irritated for good reason - she gave Lala the night off and she’s not where she said she would be? We get a great reminder that Lala lies a lot - remember when she took a “modeling job” for time off while she really hung out on some old guy’s boat? - so Lisa doesn’t believe Lala. Ariana officially thinks Lala is shady and is over it.

The Heather Wannabes all gather on the beach in Montauk for drinks and sunbathing - y’all are from California - and Scheana’s not drinking because Stassi stole her straw and ice hurts her teeth.

You read that correctly: Scheana’s not drinking because Stassi stole her straw and ice hurts her teeth. Stassi takes offense to that, of course, because everyone should be drinking on her birthday. Stassi admits she’s happy Lala’s not around Tom Schwartz, a fact I pointed out last week because it really was shocking Katie allowed him to be alone with Lala. I loved Katie being like “Lala doesn’t wear underwear and likes skinny-dipping, so she’s a monster.”

You’re the goddamn monster, Katie. Ugh. She’s literally obsessed with Lala taking her top off one time in a pool, you’d think Lala walked around with her nipples poking everyone in the eye. Stassi admits they’re all haters, and I want her to acknowledge they’re worse than that. I’m a hater. They’re monsters.

I can’t think of which vacation I’d like to be on less.

Jax is still recovering from his boob job and apparently hasn’t washed his body or his wound since then, which is disgusting. Jax is basically really smelly, which makes sense since he’s a 600-year-old cadaver they found in a basement in New England. They’re at a winery because that’s pretty much all Northern California is. Ariana calls it a “high-class thing” to go to a winery but THEY showed up in a Winnebago so they’re edgy and different. I’ve returned to making fun of Ariana’s false sense of superiority. I still think she’s a babe, don’t get me wrong, and I also like a lot about her. She just has this constant need to other herself that drives me crazy.

Jax would rather be at a “vodka vineyard4”, and Tom described a wine as having a “semen finish”, which is both horrific and something I enjoy in my wine. In case you were wondering (we know you were), I like my white wines to taste like salt and my reds to taste like dirt. They drink Chardonnay and I VOMIT. CHARDONNAY IS THE WORST. Brittany doesn’t know the difference between Malbec and Maybach, but she does know sangria! Brittany is still the best. My boyfriend (who I don’t believe has ever watched a full episode of this show) agrees. Mostly because I asked “Do you agree?” and he knows better than to say no. They play cards to see who’s going to drink the leftover wine from the spittoon, and of course, Cool Girl Ariana Is One Of The Guys and is game to drink it. I gagged. Spit really grosses me out.

Back in Montauk, Kristen got shat on by a bird while simultaneously talking about her “perfect relationship”, which is why you don’t talk about your perfect relationships, people. She reads Stassi for FILTH when she tells her to shut up because Stassi doesn’t even have a boyfriend. I gasped aloud at that because it really is shady as hell to say to someone’s face. Scheana basically insinuates that Stassi may be acting the way she is because she had what she considered the dream and it all fell apart. Scheana won’t say karma’s a bitch because she doesn’t hold grudges and that…

Scheana gets 200 clapping hands emojis for that line. Scheana may just be pretty-ish but credit’s due somewhere.

Stassi basically cries because she’s the only single one on her birthday with her friends who are just telling her to go out and make out with someone. Can we get Stassi as the next Bachelorette?

OH GOD IT’S A JAMES SCENE. He shows up wearing glasses - probably fake, which reaffirms his place as The Devil - and a blazer, and apparently is two weeks sober and has replaced alcohol with ice cream. I hope someone’s fattening him up with the intention of cooking him. Like Joel McHale on Difficult People, a show you better be watching! James considers “rum raisin” to be exciting and pronounces espresso as “ex-presso”, so James is all of our aunts now. He’s meeting with Arthur, who’s the GM at Pump and is a good looking ass dude. Arthur drops some amazing, sound advice that James’ issues are deeper and different that what James says, but of course, James is just using him for a job connection instead of taking him at what seems to be a great, valid word. More Arthur, please.

Ariana’s wasted and having a grand oletime with Brittany, where they drank most of a bottle of tequila together, and Cool Girl Ariana is just happy to not have to run around in a pretty dress and makeup. Ariana’s not like other girls, she’s a cool girl. Apparently , Tom Sandoval and Ariana aren’t having sex, despite Tom really wanting to. Brittany and Jax don’t understand how that works but it’s really that simple - you just don’t want to go to Bonetown. That’s all. Sometimes sleeping feels great, too. Ariana makes a really offensive generalization about women only wanting to talk about tampons and makeup when really women talk about sex too. I get her intent here, I just wish she didn’t word it under such a misogynistic guise. Tom never gets to see Ariana being a wasted mess - putting ketchup on a steak, primarily - but they’re all loving it, as am I.

We’re at The Alley and Deck Bar in Montauk, where they’re deciding what to drink. Kristen’s saying “I’ll do whatever you want”, and Scheana’s worried about being hungover from one green tea shot. Kristen always regrets her choices so she drinks anyway, and Kristen is an all-star in this episode. Scheana basically admits she doesn’t want to drink sugary drinks because of her diet, which is respectable, and Katie “I Anger-Ate A Head of Iceberg Lettuce On Camera” Maloney and Kristen share the shot Scheana took a sip of. Ugh. They do a shot with some older dudes who wants to hang out with them later, blah blah blah. They also flirt with some cute dude whose only flaw is he’s interested in Katie and wearing a fedora. Katie steals a grapefruit before they leave.

Has anything happened in this episode, either?

Over at Sexy Unique Restaurant, James is visiting Max and Lisa and spills the T about what happened to Lala. Basically, Lala’s dickmatized and kind of being held hostage by her boyfriend. She’s afraid of her mysterious boyfriend about whom she can’t speak to other people, and that’s terrifying. Poor Lala.

Katie calls Tom Schwartz and is thrilled that she actually sounds happy to hear from him. Lala comes up again and of course Katie’s like “she’s a whore, I am validated in treating her terribly!” and Stassi’s like “She’s sucking alien dick!” Knowing what we know now about Lala, this joke is mildly horrific. Alien abduction =/= emotional abuse. Everyone’s going to bed and Tom and Ariana are being sweet. We get to relive Tom telling Ariana he’d rather ride bulldozers with his boy friends than be with her on her birthday.

Back in Montauk, Stassi, Kristen, and Katie are going to run into the ocean naked and Scheana refuses to. They do so, there’s a lighthouse directed directly on them (as well as a camera crew and lights) and everyone on a balcony sees. So Lala is a slut for taking her top off in Hawaii, but Katie can run topless into the ocean in front of a balcony of people. Katie is the actual worst. Her logic when she’ll inevitably get called out for this? “No one’s boyfriend was around!” Well:

There is a camera crew probably full of people in relationships there in addition to those on said balcony and

Also, remember when you streaked with Jax around?

There's actually nothing shameful about the human body, toplessness is pretty much fine in a lot of countries outside the US and no one loses their minds and

Men aren't slobbering dogs and can control themselves around women

Katie is and always has been a varsity level misogynist slut shamer.

Next Week: More birthday shenanigans! Jax treats Brittany like shit! Stassi’s trolling for dudes! Lala quits?!? NO.

See you tomorrow for The Bachelor!

Random Thoughts From The Desk of Amanda:

Brittany’s gold choker in the talking head looks like a dog collar.

That scream you heard was me laughing at Kristen for admitting she literally does nothing.

My boyfriend says there’s literally no reason to fly to Montauk/The Hamptons from LA unless “you’re going to be Billy Joel’s house guest.” JUST GO TO OJAI.

I just realized I’m a year older than Stassi was when she started this show. Are my friends this messy? (Yes, but not to each other.) I’m doing something wrong.

Ugh, Kristen came across so well in this episode.

Who did the braids in the Montauk trip?!

Stassi’s spray tan is so horrific.

OFFICIALLY COMING IN A FEW WEEKS: THE AMERICA’S NEXT TOP BEST FRIEND PODCAST. Come join us!

You know who you are. I’m calling you out via the internet blogging gods. ↩︎

I also give her a pass for dating someone who “farts like crazy”. It’s a hard life to live, and I do it myself. ↩︎

I love that they’re milking that “Schwartz pours a beer on Katie” clip so hard this season. ↩︎

It’s called a potato field, Jax. ↩︎

[rachelisnotatwork]

Week 5: books, chocolate, albatrosses, racist penguins, gales and the arsehole of the world

Monday day time found us in killing time as we had lots of plans for wildlife spotting in the evening...but not much for the day. We started off with a walk down to tunnel beach. This was basically a giant hill that ended in a tunnel hewn into the rock by a local landowner so his daughters could bathe in private on the beach. When we eventually found the tunnel (not signed, which was weird since they’d made a tourist attraction out of it), it lead to some rocks with huge waves smashing onto them. I personally would be more worried about drowning than prying eyes, but what do I know, I’m not a Victorian patriarch?

After that we headed into Dunedin. I wanted to get rid of a few second hand books (normally I just leave them in Airbnbs, but the huge cost of books here meant I was going to full resale value) so we picked a second hand bookstore. Sometimes places  pleasingly match up to stereotypes. The place was crammed floor to ceiling with shelves overflowing with books, interspersed with the occasional handwritten labour. There were more books stacked in boxed on the floor and in piles on the counter. An assistant wrapping books in brown paper called over the owner, who was exactly the sort of cheery slightly rumpled looking older man you’d expect to be running a second-hand bookshop. Despite clearly not needing any more books, he did buy mine and whilst I promised Marcel, the pack mule of our holiday that I would only buy as many books as I sold, I lied. Headed out with a joyful stack some time later.

Our next stop was to buy expensive fancy chocolate, as dammit, I have needs and I was dying for a decent hot chocolate and some squares of good quality dark chocolate. They did sell me a good hot chocolate, and a couple of nice bars, but refused to part with any of their pulverised chocolate bits for hot chocolate as they are apparently barely meeting their own demand. Clearly they did not fully appreciate that I was a hot chocolate addict in distressing withdrawal.

Stocked up with chocolate and books we headed home for a bit, before the evening entertainment. This was first off albatrosses. I’ve wanted to see one for ages, and luckily outside Dunedin is the only mainland colony of them. The only problem with where they nest is it’s a great spot for all sorts of birds (apparently birds like it windy) and there are about a million seagulls there, one of which shat on my face just as we were going into the distant albatross hide to watch them. Not cool. At least being shat on by an albatross would have some rarity value. We did get to see them soaring about and lots of teenage albatrosses flirting, so that sort of made up for not being able to wash my face for 45 minutes.

Afterwards we had an hour to kill before going to see the penguins come home. We had ambitions of a walk, but the wind was up, the rain and sea gull poo was falling and the cafe had nachos. In a moment of madness, I saw a pattern for knitting a cute little penguin toy in the shop and decided to buy it and make one for my niece. I did not realise until later that the pattern was a 7 page long nightmare and the wool they sold me, alpaca, appears to have been spun by a sadist to be as hard to knit with as is possible (and I’m a mediocre knitter at best). And it turns out the designer was also responsible for the golliwog pattern that the shop was surprisingly still selling (apparently NZ hasn’t heard of the 21st century) so I also accidentally funded a racist.

The penguins (little blue this time) like to come back home at dusk in herds. So we all piled onto a platform overlooking the windswept bay (I wore two jumpers, Kate’s ski jacket and my windbreaker over the top to give you an indication of how nice NZ summers are) and waited. French tourists angrily shushed all the children (I love French tourists, they always vocalise what my grumpy inner voice is thinking). Then we waited some more. But then they all came in a series of waves, which was pretty cool, although up close they look a bit like rats swarming over the rocks when they lean forward. But up close they are cute. They all had a bit of a freak out because a gull was sitting on the ground near their path home. Apparently this is not because gulls bully them (surprising since I had gulls down as the arseholes of the avian world) but apparently because there isn’t normally a gull sitting there and they don’t like change. 

Lots of them had built their nests under the platform we were on, so after they had reunited with their chicks, there were lots of quite cool calls going on from under the platform- it was nearly dark by then and their calls sounded a bit like the noises the monster/alien makes in a horror movie when the teenagers aren’t yet sure whether it’s friendly or not. So the sounds you hear about 2 seconds before the first teenager gets eaten.

The next day our final destination was Invercargill, which Keith Richards visited and described as the arsehole of the world. So we decided to make a few nature stops along the way. First off, we took a walk along to a lighthouse at a place called Nugget Point. This was on an extremely empty bit of coastline and so it was quite a pretty drive, and then we walked along the lighthouse. The seas below were incredibly clear so you could see lots of seals diving about and generally having a good time in the water (they always make being a seal look like so much fun). End point was pretty windy, but this is NZ, so you get used to that.

Our next stop was a place called Surat bay, which Marcel told me was famous for sealions. I was dubious. We walked about 20m and found a male sealion blocking our path, dozing in the sun. 

Then another huge sealion came out of the sea, furious that another male was enjoying life and chased it away. 

Then as we walked along the path a third sealion swam just next to the shoreline, watching us suspiciously. About 30 seconds after seeing the first sea lion, we saw a huge one lying on the beach chucking sand over itself to cool down. A smaller sea lion tried to sneak onto the beach for a nap, waking up our big boss who was furious and again chased him away. At this point I apologised to Marcel about my sealion scepticism.

We kept walking along the beach for a couple of miles, seeing more male sea lions and one very sad looking lady sea lion. 

And then I posed with a sealion to embarrass Marcel

We then crossed the headland to the next beach- for the sole reason that it was called Cannibal bay and that amused me. Incidentally this was the first day of the new year where it didn’t rain at some point. Didn’t realise when they said NZ was like the UK that they meant in terms of rained out summers.

As we drove back from the beach through the nearest tiny town (Owaka), I insisted Marcel stop so I could get a picture of teapot land.

I love weird roadside attractions like this. Marcel stayed in the car, and planned our last walk, which was a brief detour to some falls. With all these walks, by the time we reached Invercargill we were too tired to leave our rather dated motel, so we made dinner there. As a result, I can’t really tell you if Keith Richards was right or not...

Having said that, the next morning we were forced to have Starbucks coffees for breakfast as we couldn’t find a hipster coffee joint, so it’s clearly not that great a town. We stocked up on some more cherries from a roadside vendor and headed out with a similar plan to make lots of stops and have lots of walks along the way. Our first stop, gemstone beach, was fairly badly timed with the tide as it had come up leaving about 10m of accessible beach. We moved on to a lookout point. It was just that- a point. No accessible walk. We consulted the map. It stated there was a beach called Bluecliffs that sounded like we could walk on it. We drove to where google said the access road was. No road. We kept going, consulting a map, until it seemed like we might be only a few fields from it. We crawled under some electric fencing. We headed through some blatantly private property. Eventually we reached what google thought was the road- a completely flooded and overgrown mud track and beyond that a shingly beach that was incredibly hard to walk on, so we chucked pebbles at the sea for a bit and then gave up on that stretch of coastline.

Our next stop was Manapouri, a small town on the outskirts of Lake Manapouri. It had one open restaurant, which was a mexican burrito place in a converted church, run by some very friendly Punjabis, which was unexpected for a one-horse town. After lunch we wandered along the very windswept lakeshore and then took a less windy walk down the river to see where the river taxis went as we had planned the next day to take one in order to go for a hike.

Our final stop for the night was an airbnb in Te Anau, a neighbouring bigger town where we could stock up on essentials (for me, Green and Blacks chocolate to make hot chocolate with).

The next day dawned rainy. We waited for a break in the clouds but decided to walk a little closer to home so headed to the lakeside rather than the further away river taxis. By the time we’d driven to the car park at the start of the walk it was pouring with rain. We turned around and went home. About half an hour later the sun came out again and so we went for round two of operation “try and have a walk”. Luckily the weather held and we had a gorgeous hike through the forest. By the time we were done we were fairly starving and headed to a cafe, which served us with cakes that were at least 90% sugar. Even I couldn’t finish mine it was so sweet.

On Friday we’d booked onto a boat trip on the Milford Sound, which was about two hours away. We decided to head out a couple of hours early so we could stop off at a few points of interest on the way. First off was mirror lakes, which were pretty disappointing as it was one of the many, many occasions in NZ when it was raining, which sort of ruins their reflective quality. 

Then we had a walk by another lake through some sheltering trees. By this stage I was looking a little anxiously at the time as whilst the boat offered a barbecue, as a vegetarian I wanted to stop at the cafe beforehand. Marcel insisted we had time to visit the Humboldt falls. These were down a very long gravel track with regular sign off for ominously named things like “deadman’s track", “historic grave" and “dead horse bog". At this point Marcel realised that the sound was further away then he thought and it was later than we thought, so we had to gun it through. Which is fairly hard to do as the roads are small and there is a very long one way tunnel, where you have to wait your turn at the traffic lights. Whilst we waited we were visited by a begging kea. Apparently they bite tourists a lot. Since I had no intention of sharing the meagre food supplies in our car as we definitely had no time to visit a cafe at this stage, I was safe.

We arrived just in time for our boat- which thankfully had a vegetarian option or I would have spent the voyage glaring at Marcel. Thoroughly recommend going with the Go Orange cruise at 5.30pm as it is the only boat that goes out that late and there were 14 tourists, including us, on our very large boat. We picked the top deck, which was open, and pretty much had it to ourselves apart from when some Swedish tourists briefly came up. It is quite pretty out there and the day improved as it ended so that by the end of the journey there was even a glint of sun from behind the clouds.

We drove back making several more stops to see various waterfalls and wild lupins (which look lovely but are apparently a pest as everything cute and/or colourful is in NZ). 

We also waited forever at a red light before the giant one way tunnel and before it went green they turned the signals off for the night. Luckily there isn’t much traffic on the road at that time so there wasn’t any reversing needed to make it through the tunnel safely.

I have contributed very little to our trip planning because I’m lazy but the one thing I really did want to do is go glacier kayaking at Mount Cook. Mount Cook is kind of an arse to get to, so stage one was driving up through Queenstown. We stopped for lunch but it was annoyingly full of tourists so we quickly headed on.

As we drove towards it, it got more and more windy. By the time we reached a nearby lake it was so windy that at the lookout point I had to get Marcel to open my door from the outside because I couldn’t push it open against the force of the wind. Then the rain started. And not the light drizzle type.

The only accommodation left available in Mount Cook was a pretty expensive fairly giant hotel, so after checking in we headed to a much cheaper cafe to overlook the wind and rain-lashed mountains opposite and debate our chances of the tour actually going ahead. If the weather is bad, they cancel it. Whilst we had basically come there in order to kayak, I was concerned that there might be a difference of opinion on what weather was acceptable to kayak in. In my mind, this category does not include any degree of rain. I feared hardy outdoor types who owned waterproof trousers might be willing to head out in conditions I very much wasn’t.

In the end though, the rain wasn’t a problem. When we woke up, for once the skies were really quite clear but the winds were gale-force so the trip was cancelled. After a brief trip to the alpine visitors centre to look at their crazy photos of mountaineers of times passed, we decided to walk to the glacier lake instead. 

As I have a design flaw by which I get earache when it’s windy, I found myself buying some sort of weird outdoors thing that could work as a trekking headband/hat/balaclava etc. I fear I’m on the slippery slope to owning waterproof trousers and knowing what crampons are.

The walk to the lake was beautiful, although we did occasionally get pelted with pebbles such was the strength of the wind, and when we got there, I couldn’t make it up the ridge to the best lookout spot because the wind kept blowing me over. But it was beautiful and the icebergs were all blown into the corner nearest the walking track anyway, so we saw them for free without having to paddle about.

After this we drove down to Wanaka, taking another windswept stop at Lake Pukaki on the way. 

Wanaka took longer than we’d though so we both arrived starving and grumpy. We had our picnic lunches we’d prepared for the kayak trip and we’d intended to eat them by the lake, which has a magic tree growing out of it (it’s just a willow that grows slightly underwater. People find this weirdly exciting). Because the winds were still super gail-forcy, we ate it in our gently rocking car.

We then drove to the nearby Clutha river to try and have a bit of a walk. We didn’t hold out much hope though that the wind wouldn’t rapidly drive us back to our car. Amazingly though the bank offered a lot of protection from the wind and with the sun out, it finally felt a bit like summer, wandering along the banks of a crystal clear river with the sun blazing down. So that was a lovely end to a somewhat grey and rainy week!