#and the camera pans out and it's just times square with zero people

[pinkgrapefloyd]

my absolute favorite part of season six is cobra kai trying to sell us the back of the catedral de barcelona as a sketchy area. “tourists don’t really come here.” babygirl it's in the middle of barri gòtic, you can't breathe for tourists. there's five museums within spitting distance. my wool store is around the corner. crying

[roman-writing]

the spectres vain (1/2)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton / Jamie / Viola Lloyd

Rating: M

Wordcount: 5,553

Summary: She had said before, ‘so many people mix up love and possession,’ and now years later she wondered if that was the reason why they had been given so much time. That maybe Viola thought this was love. That maybe she loved this. Loved her. Love them. 

Content Advisory: spoilers and horror. Also (eventual) ghost sex.

read it here on AO3 or you can read it below the break

“What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be

alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

A painting, for instance. An abstraction.” 

    - 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede’, Richard Silken

 -

For as long as Jamie had known her, Dani had never liked having her picture taken. Whenever a camera would be pointed in her direction, it were as though the lens were the long blued barrel of a rifle. She would flinch and try to cover it up with a laugh or cough or some other small action -- like scratching at her neck -- even as she continued ducking her head to one side. 

Jamie lowered the polaroid. The flash had already gone off and the print was sliding out. She grabbed the end and yanked it free. “Sorry,” she said with a grimace, even as she waved the film like a fan in a futile attempt to make the slip develop faster.

“It’s okay,” said Dani.

“I’d just like some more pictures of us to go around the apartment, you know?” 

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I get it.” 

Jamie stopped fanning herself with the square slip of film and was now squinting down at the image that was beginning to take form. “Christ, Poppins.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dani asked. And despite her earlier camera-shyness, she had lowered her hand from her throat and was now peering at the film with a look that was equal parts curious and apprehensive. 

Jamie flipped the film between her fingers to show her. “You move too much,” she said with a grin, followed by a recriminating cluck of her tongue. 

With a furrow of her brow, Dani shuffled over and leaned forward to get a better look. Jamie sidled closer so that they could study at the photo together, their shoulders brushing so that Jamie could feel the scratchy wool of Dani’s jumper against her upper arm. 

The film took form slowly. The grey mistiness parted like a veil being lifted over a bride’s head to reveal the Dani of just moments ago. She had been caught mid-motion. The effect was that of two figures blurred together -- one standing straight, the other ducked down and clutching her hands to her chest, arms lifting to ward off an incoming blow. In the odd half-light of the morning, she almost looked like two entirely different people, their faces smudged beyond all recognition.

Jamie sighed and handed the photo over. “Ah, well. I tried.”

Dani took the film in both hands, pinching the white edge between thumbs and fingers. “I’m sorry,” she breathed down at the image. 

“Nah. It’s alright.” Jamie nudged Dani’s shoulder with her own, and winked. She waggled the camera in her other hand. “Just means I’ll have to take loads more.”

Lowering the photograph, Dani rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

 -

They went on a honeymoon. At least, that’s what they called it, though there was no official wedding per se. Just a party, a gathering of their scant few friends and none of their family. The moment Jamie had mentioned her own shithead family in relation to the party, Dani’s face had gone pale as a sheet, and that was that. No family allowed. Especially not Dani’s. 

Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. There was nobody to make a fuss. Nobody to ruin the reception party -- no more than a private dinner affair with too much wine and champagne and cheap yet filling finger-food. The kind she could always make room for even after she was full. The perfectly boring not-wedding, to be honest. And Jamie was always unflaggingly honest. 

The honeymoon wasn’t more than a mountain retreat to a cabin nestled in autumnal woods. A small place. No sprawling manor house here. Just a private retreat where they could be alone together for a week or two.

Driving up to the cabin, it wasn't much, but it was still exactly what Jamie had imagined.

Except for the lake. They hadn't mentioned that in the brochures.

"Fuck," Jamie swore, slaming on the brakes and throwing the car into neutral, where the engine idled. "Shit. I'm so sorry. They didn't say -"

"It's fine," Dani insisted, but her eyes were fixed upon the body of water.

"We can go somewhere else. C'mon. I'll take us back to that town an hour back, and we can -"

Dani grabbed her hand where it gripped the steering wheel and squeezed. "Hey," she said softly, and she pulled her eyes away from the lake so she could look over at Jamie and offer a reassuring smile. "It's okay. Really."

In this light, her mismatched eyes were even more apparent. The early afternoon sun slanted across her face so that she was haloed by the gold of her hair, and her eye was blue and clear as water. The other was another matter. Jamie tried not to look too hard at that one. That wasn't her.

Breathing in deeply, Jamie nodded. She looked back out over the dash and through the windscreen. Their interlocked fingers were reflected in the tilted glass. She could feel Dani stroking a cold thumb across her knuckles. Her hands were always cold these days. Not like before. Now, Jamie had to be heat enough for both of them.

"Alright." Jamie grasped Dani's hand, lifted it up, then brought it gently back down atop the steering wheel. Then she slipped her hand free and turned the key in the ignition. The engine puttered to a halt. Jamie whirled the keys around one finger so that they clicked snugly against her palm. She offered Dani a puckish grin. "Let's go, then. I'm dying to see what mediocrity awaits us inside."

Dani gave a huff of laughter. "I'm sure it'll be lovely."

But Jamie was already kicking open the door and stepping out of the pickup. Leaves crunched under the worn soles of her boots. The air was brisk but the sun was warm. The lake steamed in the afternoon light. Licks of white curling from the smooth glassy surface. Jamie glared at the picturesque scene in suspicion as she began hauling their luggage into the cabin.

Water was trouble. And trouble was the last thing she wanted on a trip like this.

 -

As it turned out, she had worried herself over nothing. She never so much as caught Dani staring wistfully over at the nearby lake, only a stone's throw from the steps leading to the back entrance of the cabin. They didn't talk about the water at all, and it was too cold at this time of year to be so bold as to venture for a dip.

Indeed, the only things Dani seemed to want to do was relax and eat and fuck, which -- all things considered -- Jamie was not going to complain about. 

On the second day she wandered into the cabin after a walk to find Dani lying in the sunshine draped across the floor of their little cabin. Dani arched against her clothes, as if luxuriating in the feel of fabric against her skin. When she heard Jamie's footsteps, Dani opened her eyes and tilted her head back against the rug to look at her.

Awash in light, she was magnetic. Like something painted. Jamie could feel her own hand drifting to the camera hanging from her neck from when she had been taking pictures of the local flora on a short walk outside. She snapped a picture, the camera reeled noisily, and Dani blinked muzzily at her.

"Come here," Dani murmured, stretching out her arms.

And, well. Jamie couldn't resist an invitation like that. She set the camera aside and let herself be drawn down to the floor for a tumble. Dani tasted like warmth and sunlight, and Jamie was so caught up in the feel of her skin that she didn't even remember she had taken a photo. 

It wasn't until later that evening, when she emerged from the only bedroom to fix them the dinner they had forgotten to eat -- wearing naught but a long flannel that brushed her thighs -- that Jamie saw the square slip of self-developing film forgotten on the kitchen table. She changed route from the fridge and wandered over. Tilting her head to one side, she plucked up the picture and tugged it free from the polaroid. 

The picture had long since developed, but still the image was slightly out of focus. It was light-drenched and overexposed. The brightness had washed out any distinguishing features, until Dani was a mere human shape sprawled across a patch of pale glass, like a body floating on water. 

Lips pursed, Jamie chucked the picture into the bin and got on with making eggs and beans on toast for dinner. The scent of food drew Dani out. Like a sleuthhound she was. Her hair was glorious and sex-mussed. She was wrapped in nothing but a blanket. She came up behind Jamie and draped her arms over Jamie’s shoulders. 

Jamie flipped an egg in the sizzling pan. “You’re going to set that blanket on fire.”

“Mmm,” said Dani, kissing at Jamie’s neck, pressed all up against her back. 

Tilting her head to one side, Jamie set the frying pan onto a cold burner and turned all the dials to zero. Her smile faded. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She could clearly see Dani’s hands clasped at her collarbone, yet Jamie could feel another set of hands settling over her hips. Cold fingers dug in and gripped her into place.

Dani dragged her teeth against Jamie’s neck and whispered, “Come back to bed.” 

There was no denying her when she used that voice. Jamie felt herself being pulled away from the stove top by two sets of hands, like an unwary comet being sucked into a wicked undertow by some greater body’s gravity.

 -

It was on a night when it was Dani's turn to cook that Jamie pulled out a box from their luggage. It was an opulent navy blue with a gold logo emblazoned across the top. She hid it behind her back as she approached the cabin's little kitchen. The sound of sizzling greeted her, and a great bubbling of vegetables or perhaps a cauldron. Dani had her shirtsleeves haphazardly rolled up beyond her elbow. Her back was to Jamie, and she didn't so much as glance around when Jamie approached.

"Dinner will be ready soon. I promise," Dani said while stirring the pot. "Just a few more minutes. Hey, can you set the table for me, please?"

"Can't. Sorry. My hands are full."

"Huh?" Dani shot a distracted look over her shoulder at Jamie, turned back to the stovetop, then did a double take.

In Jamie's hands the box was nestled, held out like a propitiation. Dani nearly dropped the wooden spoon onto the ground, and had to turn back and fumble with it and all the dials to turn everything off before she could whirl back around, gripping the front of her oil-flecked apron in both hands.

Jamie opened the box to reveal a golden watch with an ivory face and gold-link chains, and Dani sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Oh, you shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should've."

"But I -" Dani released the front of the apron and gestured helplessly around them. "I didn't get you anything."

"Sure, you did." Jamie held up her left hand and wriggled her fingers. The ring there was impossible to miss.

Dani laughed. "That's different."

"Maybe." Jamie took the watch out from its white velvet pillow and set the case aside. Reaching out, she gently lifted Dani's hand and began draping the metal links over her narrow wrist. "But you make me very happy. Every day. And sometimes -- just once in a while -- I want to give you nice things that I can barely afford. Because capitalism, probably."

At that, Dani snorted with laughter. Even so she had gone all flushed and pink with pleasure. She kept ducking her head and looking away while Jamie locked the links around her wrist, as though she were embarrassed to be receiving such an expensive gift. When Jamie was done and tried to step away, Dani grabbed her gently by the hand and pulled her back closer.

It felt like an unspoken dare, the first time they had kissed. This felt exactly like that. Jamie had already dared to love, and Dani -- well, Dani was bold as brass, really. Her hands drifted to Jamie's waist, pulling them flush together as the kiss deepened.

Smiling, Jamie pulled back just slightly. "What's the rush? I thought you were making tea? Or aren't you hungry?"

Dani nodded, but her eyes were transfixed. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Dani always seemed to be hungry these days. Hungry for food. Hungry for sex. As though she were eating and fucking for two appetites instead of merely  her own.

Jamie didn't complain when Dani brought their mouths back together. She stumbled backwards and allowed herself to be guided, step by step, into the nearby bedroom until the backs of her legs hit the mattress, and her knees buckled, and Dani was perched atop her.

Jamie tugged the apron strings free, while Dani fumbled with the button of her jeans. They had done this a hundred times before, and more even. Seven years since Bly, and still not enough time in the world. Still, Jamie could feel her heart race in her chest even as a familiar warmth pooled in her stomach as Dani's hand slipped beneath the waistline of her jeans. 

She was so caught up in the moment -- the shared gasp between them -- Jamie hardly noticed the way Dani’s touch seemed to linger even after she had moved her hands or mouth or tongue. The slide of her touch followed by a colder phantom caress. 

It must have been the glide of gold links. Nothing more.

 -

All through the week and the weeks following, Jamie would spy Dani running her fingertips across the gold watch in a somewhat nervous fashion. Until eventually over time her wrist gleamed with every turn in the light.

 -

Dani claimed to have never ridden a horse in her life, but it was clear from the moment she first swung herself into the saddle that she was a natural.

“Am I missing a strap here? And are my feet supposed to be so low?” Dani asked, shuffling around in the saddle and frowning down at the stirrups. “I feel like they should be higher, or something.”

“That makes two of us,” Jamie grumbled.

“Huh?” 

“Bloody western saddles.”

“Ah,” Dani said, though she still looked confused.

Sighing, Jamie explained, “English style has the stirrups a little higher. Especially if you’re jumping. That’s why you think you need an extra strap. To hold onto. You sure you’ve never done this before?”

Dani shook her head. “No. Never.” 

“Huh.” Jamie gave Dani a once-over. Her form was impeccable. She had shortened the reins to perfection so that the horse’s neck was arched for pageantry. Shrugging, Jamie tugged at the reins, her own dun-coloured horse reluctantly turning its head. “This way, then.”

Dani’s dark bay trotted after to catch up so that they rode side-by-side. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno. Anywhere.” Jamie ducked beneath a wayward branch. “The man said we would come across a split in the path in about twenty minutes. We can follow the trail on the left to a waterfall, or go right for a view of the hills.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“No, I mean - we should go to the right. On the right trail. I - I like mountains,” Dani added, and it was clear she was pretending not to see the look Jamie was giving her. “Reminds me of home.”

Jamie swayed like a drunk in the saddle as the horse moved beneath her. “Always thought of you as a city girl.”

“Well, yeah,” said Dani. She expertly switched the reins between hands so she could scratch at her neck. “But the northwest coast is never too far away from the mountains. Or the sea.”

“Feeling a bit homesick are we?”

Dani shook her head. “Not really, no. I just think they look nice is all.”

Jamie gave a non-committal hum in reply. 

The day was mist-shrouded and cool, but the morning sun was quickly burning away the low-hanging fog. The trees were a riot of colour, greens and reds and rich ochre golds the colour of Dani’s hair, which had been tied back high on her head. Jamie found herself admiring the way a curl fell against the wool of Dani’s dark-washed peacoat lapel. The surrounding countryside held little interest in comparison.

As surreptitiously as she could, Jamie dug the bulky polaroid from the pocket of her coat. She lifted it and snapped a picture just as Dani was passing beneath a low-hanging branch. 

“What about you?” 

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. “What about me?” she repeated. She tugged the picture free before tucking both it and the camera away once more without waiting to see how the film would develop.

“Waterfall or mountains?” 

Jamie snorted. “Neither. Home was always little towns and rolling hills stinking of coal dust. We don’t have nature where I’m from.”

Dani shot her an exasperated glance. “Oh, so we’re playing that game are we?” 

“‘Course we are! ‘Cause I always win. And I love winning.”

“You do not always win.” 

Jamie gestured to herself and said, “Completely fucked up family followed by a prison sentence.” Then she gestured to Dani. “Clingy dead boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” Dani corrected her. “And a runaway father. And an alcoholic mother.”

“Big deal. Everyone where I’m from’s an alcoholic. Even the wains.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

“Am not!” Jamie said with mock indignance. 

Dani fixed her with a square-jawed stare, then pointed to herself and said, “Possessed by an evil ghost.” 

Jamie scoffed. “Oh, now that’s cheating.”

“Yeah, I win,” said Dani triumphantly, turning her attention back to the trail their horses were ambling down.

“That’s not fair! How am I supposed to compete with that?” 

“Get possessed by a ghost,” Dani offered blithely, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fine.” Jamie pulled back on the reins, drawing her horse to a halt. “I’ll swap with you.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

Dani’s horse had continued taking a few steps, but she guided it sharply back around with nothing but a press of her knees. She stared at Jamie, her expression stricken. Her breath came in plumes from her mouth, and her cheeks were pink from exposure to the chill of the morning air. 

“Jamie,” she breathed softly. “You shouldn’t joke like that.”

Jamie jerked her chin up a fraction as though in a challenge. “Who said anything about joking?”

Dani’s hands tightened around the reins. Her knuckles flashed white and bloodless. “I mean it,” she said, and her voice grew stronger. “You don’t want this."

"That's for me to decide. Just as it was for you back at Bly."

"No. I - I don’t want to risk this. I don’t want to risk you. Or me. Or us.” 

“Have you never considered it?” Jamie asked. “Maybe we could swap her back and forth. Maybe we could buy more time. Maybe she would prefer it, having multiple hosts. Let me help.”

But all while Jamie spoke, Dani was shaking her head and biting her lip. Her eyes seemed unfocused, as though she were looking at something over Jamie’s shoulder in the middle distance. “No. No, it doesn’t work like that. We can’t just -”

“Why not?”

“Jamie, I’m serious. You shouldn’t -”

“Is there some law about supernatural possession that I’m not aware of? Hmm? ‘Can’t trade ghosts,’ it says, does it? Why don’t you even want to try something that might give us a chance?”

"Just -!" Dani had screwed her eyes shut. "Just because!"

"Because why?" Jamie insisted, a dog with a bone.

"Because!"

"Bollocks! Tell me why -!"

“Because she is mine!” 

A group of blackbirds launched into startled flight from the nearby trees. The horses nickered, stomping their hooves uncomfortably, their ears flicking to and fro. Dani’s voice still rang through the air like something dark and raw, hanging in twisted bloodied bits from the branches over them. 

Dani swallowed thickly. Her eyes were wide open now. Her face was pale. Her lower lip trembled. When she spoke her voice was small. “I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t - That wasn’t -” 

She inhaled deeply and shakily. Her whole face twitched, and her shoulders, and her trembling hands. It seemed as though she were slowly curling in upon herself until she was gripping the saddlehorn, shaking, and gasping for breath. The horse beneath her took hesitant steps backwards, its ears flat against its skull, as though trying to escape the person slumped atop it.

“Hey,” Jamie said weakly, feeling helpless as she watched. 

When Dani began to slip from the saddle and towards the ground, Jamie struggled to dismount, half-falling to the earth and then scrambling away from her own horse, which snorted and balked. It turned tail and dashed back the way they had come, jangling with tack. She rushed over and managed to prop Dani up just in time to keep her from toppling right over. 

“Hey, hey,” Jamie repeated. “I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Dani’s eyes were staring wide at nothing, and the reins had slipped from her grasp. “She’s mine,” she was muttering to herself. “She’s mine. She’s - She’s -”

“Okay,” Jame said, keeping one hand on Dani and snatching up the loose reins in the other so that the horse would not dart away. “Okay. She’s yours. She’s yours. Okay?”

Dani was nodding along desperately. She had grabbed onto Jamie’s arm to steady herself. Gradually she managed to straighten, but her shoulders remained hunched. All at once she looked like she had no idea what to do atop a horse, and she fumbled picking up the reins, leaving them slack. When she glanced around, her face fell.

“Oh,” Dani said. “Your horse -”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

Jamie patted her leg. “I’ll walk back.” For good measure, she grabbed a hold of the loose reins dangling from the horse’s bit, and began leading it round so they could make their way back to the rancher’s stables. “C’mon you,” she chided the horse, when it tugged its head slightly. “None of that, now.”

The ground was soft. Mud speckled the horse’s shod hooves and Jamie’s worn leather boots. Meanwhile Dani rode, utterly silent. In the quiet that descended over them, there returned the sound of wildlife, of chirping birds and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Jamie felt like a servant. Some sort of old timey stable boy, leading her mistress's horse back from a long ride. 

Above her, Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat.

Jamie cocked her head to glance over her shoulder, but did not stop. “Something wrong?”

“Apart from the obvious?” Dani asked dryly. Then she tugged the peacoat more tightly around herself. The lapels bunched up around her neck. “It’s going to sound stupid.” 

“I’m all for stupid. Love it. Can't get enough of it, in fact.”

Her attempt to make Dani loosen up, laugh a little, didn’t hit quite as effectively as it usually did. For a moment Dani made no reply. Then - 

“I wanted to see the mountains.” 

It was an almost petulant grumble. She was scowling down at the horn gripped in her free hand, as though the saddle had somehow wronged her. 

Smiling, Jamie shook her head. “I’ll take you tomorrow. We’ll drive. Fuck horses, anyway.”

"Yeah. Okay. That sounds good." There came the sound of a sniffle, and the rustle of cloth. "God, I'm hungry."

Truth be told, they had eaten not an hour ago. Quite a large meal, too. Still, Jamie dug around in her other pocket and pulled out a crisp apple, which she had been saving for just the purpose. She handed it over, and Dani took it.

"Thank you."

"No worries."

"No, I mean it. For everything."

"Like I said," Jamie shot an impish look over her shoulder. "No worries. Really."

Dani ate everything, even the core. She licked the juices off her fingers and chewed on the stem the whole ride back.

It wasn't until they had returned to the cabin some time later, when Jamie was emptying her pockets, that she came across the photo. Dani had waltzed off to the kitchen to make them a too hearty, too early lunch. Jamie cast her a quick glance, then turned the photograph over to have a proper look at it.

The Dani of an hour or so ago was poised in the saddle like a dressage rider. Mist and shadow clung to the edges of her. The leafy branch was half-cast across her face like an ornament, like an exotic hat, even. And from beneath the shadowy brim was a mask of a face with dark eyes that burned through the fog.

 -

The honeymoon couldn’t last forever. Sooner than either of them would've liked, they were back in their little apartment over the flower shop. There was nothing of the trip but a handful of cherished memories -- Jamie had kept none of the photographs. 

None of the photographs Jamie had taken in their years together had seemed to turn out quite right. And Dani had kept no photos of herself before Bly. They were, Jamie had been told, still back at her old home on the other side of the continent. 

It wasn't for lack of trying. Jamie kept a camera at hand most days in the vain hope that she might steal an image of her wife to hold and to keep after -- well. After. But she didn't want to make Dani uncomfortable, no matter how often Dnai told her it was fine, that she could take as many pictures as she liked. She tried to be discreet. 

The times she wasn't, when Jamie grew frustrated enough to ask Dani to stage herself for a quick snap and flash of the lens, none of those photos turned out right either. Dani wasn't herself in those. As though she were a plastic doll posed for her high school prom night on someone's arm. Somehow those pictures were even worse. Both Jamie and Dani would grimace and shake their heads, laughing in mutual agreement that it ought to be chucked in the bin.

Life went on. There would be time for other pictures. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or the day after. When the time came, Jamie would be ready, camera in hand. 

 -

They were seated at a cafe, waiting for their drinks to arrive, and Dani was staring at a dark-haired child. The family of three was at a nearby table. Jamie watched as Dani's eyes would lose focus mid-sentence, and drift in that direction, her voice trailing off until the words hung crooked from her tongue.

Jamie cleared her throat, and leaned an elbow on the table between them. "Yeah. I don't have the right kind of equipment for that, Poppins."

Dani's gaze jerked back towards Jamie. She blinked. "What?"

"But we could try something else," Jamie offered with a shrug. "If you like."

Dani's jaw dropped, so that her mouth hung partially open in shock as the realisation of what Jamie was saying dawned on her. "Wha -? No! No." She laughed nervously and self-consciously rubbed at the side of her neck. "Thank you, but no."

"You sure? Because if you want it, then -”

“I’m worried about -” Dani interrupted, but faltered herself before tilting her head and saying, “- her.”

Lifting an unconcerned eyebrow, Jamie asked, “And what does Viola want, then?"

Dani started slightly at the sound of that name being spoken with such sudden irreverence. "I - Well, I don't think it would help. A child. I don’t think a child would help."

"No?"

Dani shook her head. Then, with a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the family, she leaned forward. Her gold watch clinked against the tabletop, and she spoke in a low voice, "Actually, I think it might make things worse."

Jamie frowned in confusion, but leaned forward all the same as though the two of them were having some clandestine meeting instead of talking right there in the open air of the cafe. "And why's that? I thought she wanted a kid or whatever?"

"Well, yeah, but -" The tip of Dani’s tongue darted out to nervously wet her lower lip. "I - I dunno. I just have a weird feeling about it."

"Bad weird? Or just weird weird?"

"I think -" Dani inhaled sharply and sat up straighter. She seemed to consider something in the middle distance, before coming to a conclusion and shaking her head, her nose scrunched up. "Mmm. No. Just weird weird. But also -- I mean -- she wants it. Really badly. But any kid of mine wouldn't actually -- y'know -- be mine."

"I don't follow."

Dani fixed her with a hard unblinking stare. "I'm saying: it would be hers."

Slowly the realisation of what she was saying hit Jamie, along with a corresponding image. Of a woman. Putting on a shiny new satin dress.

"Yikes," said Jamie.

"Yeah." Dani slumped back into her seat. She went back to chewing on her lower lip and staring over at the other table. Except that the waitress came by not a moment later. So, Dani jolted up straight again and said, "Oh, thank you so much."

The waitress flashed them both a brilliant smile. "No problem."

Jamie waited until she was gone before saying, “You never answered my first question.”

Dani had picked up a small silver spoon and was stirring milk into her coffee until it turned a shade of tan. “What do you mean?” 

“Do you want a child?” Jamie asked, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not her. You. You shouldn't let her stop you from doing something that you want to do."

Setting down the spoon so that it was balanced on the edge of the saucer, Dani picked up her coffee. "I know that.” She took a sip. When it was clear that Jamie wasn’t going to let this go, Dani set her cup back down but kept her hands locked around it. “I thought I did. Before. Back when I was -” She made a fluttering gesture with her fingers as though waving away a buzzing fly.

“Yeah? And what about now?”

Dani’s face slackened at the question. Her eyes unfocused. 

Jamie snapped her fingers. “Hey. None of that, now.”

Dani jerked. "Sorry. Uhm -" She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. Her hands gripped the porcelain cup tight. Then she shook her head, a small twitchy side-to-side motion. "No. No, I don't. No. Not anymore."

With a shrug, Jamie added a splash of milk to her cup of bag tea. "Well, all right, then."

Dani's eyes blinked open. "And what about you?"

Jamie made a face. "I've spent enough of my life raising kids. Siblings. My own mother. You know how it is. So, no. But if it was something you wanted, then sure. I would be all for it."

"But if you don't want it, then -"

"I'm perfectly willing to make a compromise. Fortunately for us both, neither of us have to. It's the best of both worlds, really," Jamie assured her. She took that first sip of tea, then made another face. "Ugh. Why can't the Yanks ever make a decent cuppa?"

Dani had picked up her own cup for a sip, and smiled around the brim. "Want a conciliatory muffin instead?"

Jamie set her tea down with a grimace. "Yes, please."

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” said Dani, already standing and leaving her coffee behind. She shuffled through her purse for her wallet. 

While pushing her tea away from herself in disgust, Jamie paused. She frowned. She gazed more intently at the cup Dani had left on the table. The coffee steamed faintly, yet there remained the imprints of fingers on the porcelain, as though she were still sitting there, gripping the mug between her cold hands.

Jamie’s head jerked around, and her gaze sought Dani. She found her at the till, exchanging cash for a blueberry muffin. Not taking her eyes off her, Jamie fumbled around in the pocket of her own coat, which was slung over the back of her chair. Finally, she withdrew the polaroid camera that never seemed to leave her side these days. She lifted the camera to her face, and peered through, pointing it in Dani’s direction.

Dani’s figure was distorted through the lens. She moved as though through water, turning and striding towards Jamie across the bottom of a lake. Her golden hair seemed to float. Or perhaps that was the breeze, a draught that had slipped benignly beneath the cafe’s front door. Every step lingered behind her; there were shadows in her footprints. As she passed by the table with the family of three, her attention drifted towards the child -- just for the barest of moments -- and through the camera lens her eyes were deep and dark as muddy waters. 

Jamie lowered the camera, and thought to herself that a change of strategy was in order.

[miracle-sham]

Plan D for Dicey.

| {MaribatMarch2020 – Week 1, Day 6: Unconventional Weapon} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Triggers/Warnings: D&D typical Violence, kidnapping/imprisoning of Player Characters, Explicit Language/Swearing, (Also not so much a Trigger/Warning but this a gen/platonic fic). |

| The Wayne (bat)family attempt to play their first streamed session of Warriors and Warlocks. Unpredictably, things go surprisingly well. |

| Word Count: 4323 |

==–==

| A/N: So firstly, I got really carried away writing this so it's being posted a day late. Sorry! But fun fact, this means I'm posting this on my birthday, so wooh! Also if you can't tell yet, I'm a massive D&D geek (been playing for roughly five years now but I still fell like a complete noob whenever I play or DM :P). And DC has its own version of D&D (W&W/Warriors and Warlocks) and upon reading Day 6's prompt, my immediate thought was the improvised weapons mechanic from D&D. Also also, I originally intended for this fic to be MariTim (hence the tags) but I got caught up in all the platonic fun of the family playing D&D I kinda forgot to write in the shippy bits? |

| A/N cont.: Writing this was actually a massive challenge because at the start of this I had absolutely zero idea on how to write a D&D session as a ficlet. So this might be a bit more clunky and unrefined compared to my normal work (or that could just be my self-doubt talking). As I mentioned earlier, I got really carried away writing this because I love D&D so much. I would have written more but this ficlet is long enough and late enough as is. But if I were to continue this ficlet in additional parts, I definitely can already think of so many ways to improve writing this sort of fic (and maybe next time I won't forget to add in shippy stuff). Anyway, thanks to those who read these A/Ns, and I hope you guys enjoy reading this! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or send me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

Marinette, with Tikki on her shoulder, bursts into the Wayne Manor games room, barely able to contain her excitement. As the first in the room, she can't help but glance across the square conference U-table already set up with everyone's character sheets, dice equipment, other equipment, and snacks and drinks. Bounding over to her designated seat (right side, place nearest to the DM's section of the table), she pulls her chair out and sits down.

 The rest of the Wayne (bat)family, including Steph but sans Alfred and Barbara, slowly filter into the room and take their designated seats. Jason takes his seat next to Marinette whilst Dick takes the seat directly opposite. Steph nabs the seat beside Jason, Damian stakes a claim to the seat next to Dick (despite it already being his designated seat), Cass sits down in the seat beside Steph, leaving Bruce to take his seat next to Damian.

 Tim's the last of the family to enter. He slips into his seat, the DM's seat—as he is the most experienced Warriors and Warlocks player at the table—and grins downright ferally at his players.

 He looks up at the cameras and recording equipment that is set up in the middle of the open space in the square U-table. “Hello and welcome to Plan D for Dicey, the first-ever Wayne Family Warriors and Warlocks fifth edition stream. We weren't quite expecting so many people to petition that we stream our sessions after a few people—” Tim fake coughs twice, “—Dick and Marinette—” Tim fake coughs twice again (whilst Marinette and Dick both grin and wave cheerfully at the cameras), “—rambled about their characters and some highlights from previous sessions, on Twitter. So we decided to give this a go and see how the session pans out whilst being streamed. So as a word of warning, prepare yourselves for the Venators, probably one of the most dysfunctional parties in W&W to miraculously band together.”

 As soon as he says this, the rest of the table burst into grins and cheers (excluding Bruce who despite also smiling, looks like he's just aged five years). Marinette's side of the table all high five each other in their excitement.

 Tim pauses for a second. “For anyone unfamiliar with who I am, I'm Tim. And as you can probably tell from the table set up, I'm the Dungeon Master for this campaign. That's because I've been playing W&W for just over five years now and have had experience DMing before. But for the rest of the players here, this is their first campaign and by extension first time playing. So before we begin our session, first let us introduce our players and their characters.” He nods to Marinette's side of the table.

 She immediately slaps her hands on the table, pushes her chair out and stands, she waves at the cameras again. “Hi, I'm Marinette and my character is Nella Septa-Punctata. She's a Protector Aasimar Celestial Pact of the Chain Warlock, and she has a Sprite Familiar called Tikki. Nella's Chaotic Good and a little anxious but she tries her best to be a kind and heroic adventurer.” She then sits back down, scraping her chair back in again.

 Jason raises an eye at Marinette's antics but shrugs. “I'm Jay, I play a Winged Variant Feral Tiefling Gunslinger called Rehodros. He's Chaotic Neutral, verging on Chaotic Evil at times, and he only joined the Venators because they helped save him from backstory related stuff and he ended up getting reluctantly attached to them.”

 Deciding to also stand up from her chair as well as slap the table with both hands, Steph smirks at the cameras. “I'm Stephanie, my character's Speilsol Leyer, and she's a Chaotic Good Variant Human Ancestral Guardian Barbarian with the Tavern Brawler Feat. She lives for beating up bad guys and doing good, even if it goes against the law.”

 Cass decides to take things one step further and moves to sit on the back of the chair, balancing it carefully as to not let herself fall. She waves at the cameras. “Hi, I Cass. Play Balabitara. Neutral Good, Kalashtar Shadow Monk.” She then sits back down on the chair normally.

 With one half of the table introduced, Tim nods towards the other side of the table.

 Dick winks at the cameras, “I'm Dick and I play Niriwyse, a Chaotic Good Eladrin Glamour Bard who's along for the ride and just wants to have a good time.” At that, he wiggles his eyebrows.

 Scoffing, Damian glares at the cameras. “I am Damian and my character is Rokian. He is a Firbolg Circle of the Shepherd Druid and is Lawful Neutral in the sense that he believes the only laws that should be obeyed in the world, are that or the laws of nature. He begrudgingly joined this party of adventurers after they saved an animal friend of his.”

 This leaves Bruce as the only one to have not introduced himself and his character yet. He smiles his Brucie Wayne smile at the cameras. “My name's Brucie and my character is called Chirop. He's a Chaotic Good Bugbear Swashbuckler Rogue. He comes across as very gruff, but he's just a big old teddy bear at heart.”

 Tim coughs under his breath. “Alright, with our introductions over, let's get on with the show.” The lights in the room suddenly dim and turn a dark red shade whilst creepy echoing organ music begins to play from hidden speakers. “Last session, our brave party of seven adventurers were captured by the evil Lich Dreldaz whilst trying to rescue the beautiful princess Theophania—”

 “—Timothea!” Corrects the rest of the table.

 Rolling his eyes, Tim continues. “—from the cursed castle in which she has been trapped in, by Dreldaz.” He pauses, steepling his fingers as the dim red lighting becomes a dark grey shade. “The Venators awaken, only to find themselves shackled to the walls, in individual stone brick cells and stripped of any and all equipment bar the clothes on their backs. From what you all can immediately tell upon waking, these cells are small, cold, dark and dingy. What do you do?”

 The seven players all exchange glances between themselves.

 “I'd like to look around my cell, see if I can find anything or if I can get an idea of what the cellblock we're in looks like?” Jason announces after a few seconds.

 Tim nods. “Roll a perception check, please.”

 Jason narrows his eyes Tim. He reaches towards the red and black dice set beside his character sheet and picks up the D20. He shakes the dice in his hands before rolling it into the dice box. It lands on a 7. “Alright so because I don't have my gear any more, that means I don't have my eyes of the eagle right?”

 “That's right,” Tim responds.

 “Mmk, that's a seven then, plus my perception modifier… Fourteen total.” Jason glances up at Tim once he finishes calculating.

 Humming, Tim glances down at his Mysterious™ DM notes. “With your Darkvision, you manage to make out that there are two small barred windows on the walls adjacent to the wall with the cell door. The door luckily has a barred window in it too, but you're too far away to glean anything from peering at it.”

 Marinette purses her lips and double-checks her character sheet. “Is there anything magical about the darkness in these cells?”

 “Roll an Arcana check to see.” Is Tim's response.

 She reaches over to the pink and gold dice set beside her character sheet and picks up the D20. She shakes the dice in her hands before rolling it into the dice box. The D20 lands on a 16. “Sixteen! Wait, plus my arcana modifier, uh…” She scans her sheet for the relevant modifier, “plus six, so that's uh… oh heck maths, uhh I think that's twenty-two total? Yeah.” She nods to herself at calculating the maths.

 Jason snorts and addresses the cameras. “This is why you should stay in school kids!”

 Huffing, Marinette elbows him in the side. “Fight me!”

 Not evening flinching at the elbowing, Jason pats her on the top of her head. “Friendly fire, Mari! Friendly fire!”

 Tim waits for silence with his best poker face on. “As far as you can tell, there is nothing magical about the darkness!”

 “Really?” She furrows her brows. “Alright then.”

 He smiles in response.

 Dick glances down at his character sheet then up at Tim, he taps his fingers against the table idly as he speaks. “The walls of the cells are stone? So I can use my Cli Lyre to cast Stone Shape and create a hole in the stone where the metal shackles connect, which would free me, right!”

 Clicking his tongue, Tim shakes his head. “Nope, you don't have your Cli Lyre on you right now, so you can't cast any spells from it.”

Cursing under his breath, Dick frantically scans his character sheet for anything. He reaches his spells and freezes and slaps the spell sheet (and by extension, the table). “Ah hah!” He crows, “I will cast Knock on the shackles!”

 Tim raises an eyebrow, then looks down to flip through his spell cheat sheet. “When you cast the spell, it makes a loud knock that's audible for up to three hundred feet. Are you sure you want to cast this?”

 Dick falters and furrows his brow, then glances around the table at the rest of the party. “I think I'll wait and see if anyone else has a way to escape this first? Wait we can all hear each other speaking from our cells, right?”

 “You can indeed.” Tim answers.

 “I got nothin',” Jason admits, putting on his Rehodros voice, which is just his normal voice but deeper and with a raspy—almost hissing—clipped tone.

 Steph, using her Speilsol Leyer voice (which sounds like she's putting on a weak German accent), shrugs. “I could try breaking the shackles? I'm strong enough to do cool things like that?”

  “But that will also be fairly loud.” Bruce points out, speaking with a gruff tone of voice (which is significantly different from his gravelly Batman tone of voice) for Chirop. “If I had my lockpicks, it would be easy to escape stealthily. But without them, I can't see a way for me to get out of these shackles.”

 Damian wrinkles his nose. “I might be able to summon creatures, elementals, or fey but what I get is determined by the DM and may not be entirely helpful. However, I could try wildshaping?”

 Tim smiles cryptically and the lighting behind him changes from dark grey to lime green. “You could.”

 Damian nods. “Alright then, I will use my wildshape ability to transform into a spider.”

The lime green light fades to flickering orange-red light. “As you try to use your druidic abilities to magically assume the shape of a spider, you feel a burning sensation around your wrists, right where the shackles are. You are unable to transform and take…” Tim pauses as he pulls out his black and red dragon dice and rolls a D6 behind the DM screen. “Five points of fire damage.”

 Cursing under his breath in Arabic, Damian glares at Tim. He crosses out his current hp and writes down the new amount.

 Jason taps Marinette on the shoulder. “What about Nells, Mari? She got any tricks up her sleeve to escape?”

 Marinette startles at that, having been chewing her lip and staring intently at her character sheet since her arcana check. She licks her lips then glances up. “I might…”

 She taps a small stat block card with a pencil and turns to Tim with an intense stare. “Is Tikki nearby?”

 At that, Tim grins widely and raises a finger. “That,” He says, flipping through his notes, “is a very good question.”

 “Because on my notes, here it says that last session Tikki was invisible when we all got captured.” Marinette picks up her session notes journal and shows it to him.

 “Would you say Tikki followed after you when you got caught?”

 Marinette tilts her head to the side and Tikki whispers in her ear. Of course, the cameras inability to record kwamis means it just looks like she's thinking instead of listening to a flying red bug deity. “Yep, I would say that. I would also like to telepathically communicate with Tikki and ask if she can come and pick the locks because we gave her a spare Thieves' Tools kit last shopping session in case she needed to pick the locks during an invisible scouting mission!”

 “Indeed you did, so Tikki flies over to your cell and will try to pick the locks on your door first. So roll a d20 and add Tikki's Dex bonus.” He instructs.

 Marinette nods and picks up the dice, cupping her hands underneath it so Tikki can shake then roll it without it looking suspicious on camera. Tikki shakes the dice and drops it as Marinette separates her hands. The dice lands in the box and rolls a 16. “Plus Tikki's Dex mod, that's uh…” She scrambles for the Sprite Familiar statblock card, “Plus four, so dirty twenty!”

 “That's enough to pick the lock. Do you want Tikki to enter the cell and try to pick the lock?” He asks.

 She nods and repeats the roll with Tikki, this time rolling an eleven. “With mods, fifteen.” Tikki then returns to her place on Marinette's shoulder.

 “Tikki barely manages to get the locks open. The shackles open and you land on the cell floor.”

 Marinette punches the air. “Wooh! Freedom!”

 Cass then waves her hand in the air. “Shadowstep out?”

 Tim cocks his head to the side. “As you don't have Darkvision, you can't see outside your cell but you manage to use your shadowstep ability to escape the shackles. Then by peering out the barred window in the door, you manage to shadow step into the cellblock corridor.”

 Marinette and Cass share a high-five.

 “Let's go free everyone else!”

==–==

 It takes them ten minutes to finish freeing everyone else, and start making their way out of the dungeon cell block. The Venators now make their way through the bowels of the castle, searching for the armoury in which all their belongings have been stored.

 “As you push open the grand oak doors, the faint scent of sickly sweet rotting food and fire hits your noses. The doors reveal the next room to be a grand dining room with a long oak table, set as though prepared for a grand feast expecting many a guest. It's adequately lit but the two corners of the room above the door seem to glow with a dim greenish glow.” Tim pauses in his description as lighting changing to a dim greenish light behind him; he rolls a D8 four times (6, 7, 2, 4), behind the DM screen, followed by the rolling of a D20 four times (3, 19, 13, 18).

 “Oh god…” Dick mutters, 

 Jason huffs. “What are you going to torture us with now, oh great DM?”

 Tim smiles cruelly. “Four rays of fire are shot towards the party from somewhere within the dining room. First attack is an eight versus Chirop's AC?”

 Bruce sighs in relief. “That's a miss.”

 Tim continues to smile. “Mmk, the rest of the attacks are, twenty-four versus Balabitara's AC, eighteen versus Niriwyse's AC, and twenty-three verses Rokian's AC. I assume those hit.”

 Damian narrows his eyes at Tim, whilst Dick winces and Cass pouts.

 Tim rolls a D6 nine times, behind the DM screen. “Balabitara takes four points of fire damage, Niriwyse and Rokian both take eight points of fire damage.”

 The three all jot down the damage taken.

 Still smiling, like the truly evil DM that he is, Tim clasps his hands together. “Two skulls, enveloped with green flames, descend from the ceiling. One hovers over the grand table and the other hovers but the top of the opened doors, giving itself cover.” He pauses, then grins. “With the surprise round over, everyone roll initiative!”

 Out of habit, all seven players, and Tikki, roll their D20s in almost perfect sync. Dick rolls an 18, Cass rolls a 9, Jason rolls a 14, Bruce rolls a 16, Steph rolls a 17 with advantage, Damian rolls a 2, Marinette rolls a 10, and Tikki rolls a 14.

 “Twenty or above?” Tim asks.

 “Twenty three,” Bruce announces.

 Jason rolls his eyes. “Twenty-one.”

 Dick grins, “Twenty one as well!”

 Tim scribbles down the rolls on the initiative table. “D'awww, you both rolled twenty-one. Anyway, fifteen or above?”

 “Tikki rolled an eighteen.” Informs Marinette.

 “I got nineteen!” Steph exclaims.

 Jotting down those rolls as well, Tim asks “Alright, anyone ten or above?”

 Cass signs her roll, ‘fourteen.’

 “Thirteen.” Marinette answers.

 Tim glances at the initiative table, then at Damian. “And you Damian?”

 Damian scoffs. “Three.”

 “Okay.” Tim then rolls a D20 twice. “Chirop! You're up first!”

 Bruce looks slightly bewildered. He clears his throat. “Can I grab the nearest sharp pieces of cutlery and sneak behind a chair?”

 Tim nods. “Roll stealth.”

 He rolls an 18. “My stealth modifier is plus thirteen, so thirty-one to stealth.”

 Tim whistles, “To the rest of the Venators, it looks like Chirop just vanishes into thin air.”

“Are any of the enemies close enough that I could move into melee range?” He questions.

 “There's one floating Flameskull hovering five foot in the air, with your Long-Limbed trait, it's well within reach,” Tim informs.

 Bruce narrows his eyes. “I would like to stab the Flameskull with the sharp cutlery, knives are preferable.”

 “Roll to hit. As knives are close enough to daggers, I'll say you can get away with adding your proficiency bonus as well.”

 Bruce rolls, with advantage, a 19. “Plus my modifiers, that's twenty-eight to hit.”

 “That hits.”

 Bruce rolls for damage, 2. “That's two, so seven.” He then rolls for Surprise damage, 8 (5, 3), and Sneak Attack damage, 24 (6, 2, 5, 6, 5). “That's a total of 39 piercing damage. Then I'll use my bonus action to stab it again,” He rolls a 16, “Twenty-one to hit.”

  Tim puts on his best poker face. “That also hits.”

 “Then that'll be…” He rolls a 1. “One damage from the second attack.”

“The Flameskull you hit screeches in fury as it crumbles to bone dust.” Tim then proceeds to make a horrific screeching sound, for immersion of course.

 “What the fuck, Timbo?” Jason asks, wincing.

  Dick cringes. “At least you aren't right beside him! My poor ears!”

 “Rip us closest seats.” Mumbles Marinette, wrinkling her nose.

“Rehodros, you're up next!” Tim announces gleefully, ignoring his suffering players.

 Jason narrows his eyes at Tim, “I want to run over to the table, grab any food on the table that's not rotten, and yeet it at the nearest Flameskull.”

 Tim hums, “Okay, the only non-rotten food you can find, is a block of aged cheese and a bowl of hardened sugar cubes.

 Snorting, Jason cracks his knuckles. “Oh, I have to pick the block of aged cheese.”

 “Roll your attack then. But make sure you only add your Dex modifier to the attack as you're not proficient in improvised weaponry.”

 Jason rolls to attack and also gets a 19. “Twenty four to hit.”

 Tim snorts. “Yeah, that definitely hits, go ahead and roll damage.”

 Jason nods and rolls a 1D4, managing to get max damage. “Four! Wooh! Plus my Dex mod, that's nine damage!”

 “You lob the cheese at the Flameskull, managing to cause a couple of cracks to form on its skull. It turns it's furious gaze to you, intending to intimidate you but the effect is somewhat hindered by the melting cheese covering half of its skull.” Tim flips through his notes and marks down the damage taken.

 “Okay, then I want to grab the bowl of sugar and using my extra attack to throw that at the Flameskull, in the jaw.” Jason smirks and switches to his Rehodros voice, “You look like you've got a sssweet tooth, bonehead!” He rolls to attack and gets a 12. “Seventeen to hit?”

 “That will hit.”

 Jason rolls a 3 on the D4. “That's eight damage total.”

“As the bowl of sugar starts to melt from the heat of the fire, the sickly sweet scent of hot sugar begins to emanate from the Flameskull. The Flameskull does not look happy.” Tim pauses to glance at the initiative table. “Niriwyse! You're up.”

 Dick glances down at his spell list and beams. “I'm going to cast Vicious Mockery. And say,” he puts on his Niriwyse voice, which is just his voice but higher pitch and with a British Estuary accent, “Green is so not your colour!”

 Tim hums, then flips through his notes. “What's the spell Save DC on that again?”

 Quickly checking his spell sheet, Dick answers, “DC 16.”

 “Mmk,” Tim responds non-committally, before rolling a D20 twice from behind the DM screen. “That, unfortunately for you, is a nat 20. Which means it takes no damage and suffers no disadvantage. The Flameskull turns to you briefly, to cackle in your face, before turning its attention back to Rehodros.”

  Dick frowns. “Aww that failed, welp I'll use my bonus action to give Speilsol Leyer inspiration.” He clears his throat and puts on his Niriwyse voice to sing. “Let's get down to business! To defeat, this skull! Did they order heroes, no they asked for none! We're the saddest party you'll ever meet! But you can bet before we're through, Flameskull, we'll make dust out of you!”

 The rest of the table burst into cheers and groans.

 “Beautiful, Speilsol Leyer, you get 1D10 bardic inspiration,” Tim confirms. “And now it's your turn. Show the audience what you've got.”

 Steph giggles. “Okay, okay, I've got a really dumb idea.”

 Tim raises an eyebrow at her.

 “So, firstly, is there anything on the walls, like paintings? Wall sconces? Y'know.” She asks.

 “There's a painting of a naked elven lady on one wall, and a taxidermied fox head on the other,” Tim informs.

 Steph bounces in her seat. “Cool! So I'm gonna rage! Rip the taxidermied fox head off the wall, then run and leap up into the air to bludgeon the Flameskull with the fox head!”

 “Right. Make an athletics roll.”

 Rolling a D20, she gets 13. “Twenty one!”

 “You manage to jump into the air with expert grace. Roll to hit.”

 She rolls a 16. “That's a twenty-four to hit because I've got the Tavern Brawler Feat so I've got proficiency with improvised and-slash-or unconventional weapons!”

 He snorts. “That'll definitely hit, roll damage.”

 Steph picks up her D4 and rolls it, getting a 3. “Do with my strength modifier and Rage damage, that's ten damage! And uh, that's the end of my turn!”

 Tim scribbles down the damage taken, he then checks his notes quickly. “The sugary cheese-covered Flameskull starts to cackle madly. It casts fireball on the party, everyone make dexterity saving throws.”

 On cue, everyone in the party rolls their D20s. Tikki rolls an 18, Damian and Marinette both roll 16s, and Dick rolls a 4.

 Before Bruce rolls his dice, he proclaims, “I'd like to use evasion!” He then rolls and gets a 5. “Fourteen total.”

 “Evasion too!” Cass declares with a smile, she rolls her D20, getting 18. She then signs her result, ‘twenty-seven

 “Shit!” Jason mutters, staring at his roll of 2.

 “Nat one?” Tim questions.

 Jason shakes his head. “Natural two, so seven total.”

 “I also got seven,” Dick adds.

 “Seventeen,” Damian announces.

 “I rolled a nineteen and Tikki rolled a twenty-two.” Marinette pipes up.

 Steph frowns at her roll of nine. “Eleven…” She glances at her character sheet again. “Wait, no! I get advantage on dexterity saving throws!” She shakes the dice in her hands and blows on it for good luck, then rolls it into the dice box. It lands on an 18. Fist pumping the air, she cheers. “Yes! Dirty twenty, fuck yeah!”

 “Alright. Niriwyse and Rehodros both take…” Tim rolls a D6 eight times, behind the DM screen. “Twenty-three fire damage. And everyone else except Chirop and Balabitara take half that, so eleven damage. And of course, Chirop and Balabitara take no damage whatsoever.”

 “Wooh,” Bruce cheers.

 “Wait a second!” Jason interrupts, triple-checking his character sheet, “I've got fire resistance!”

 “Then you also take eleven damage instead of the full twenty-three.” Tim corrects. “And that's the end of the Flameskull's turn. Tikki's up now.”

 Marinette tilts her head to the side as Tikki whispers in her again. “Tikki is going to hold her turn.”

 Tim nods. “Okay then, it's Balabitara's turn.”

 Cass smiles sweetly. “Jump and punch?”

 “Roll an athletics check then, please.”

 She rolls a 13, and signs her results, ‘eighteen.’

 “You barely manage to leap within melee range of the Flameskull,” Tim narrates. “Roll to hit.”

 She rolls her dice again, rolling a flat 17. Again, she signs her result, ‘twenty-six.’

 “That will definitely hit.” He acknowledges.

 Cass then rolls damage, gets a 4, and signs the total, ‘nine.’ She glances down at her character sheet, and then back up at Tim. “Second attack?”

 Tim nods again, still jotting down the damage taken. “Go ahead and roll.”

 Rolling again, she gets a nine, so she signs the result, ‘eighteen.’

 He hums, “That'll also hit, roll damage.”

 She rolls and gets a 3. ‘Eight,’ she signs.

 Tim chuckles, “As you punch the Flameskull twice, the skull shatters and turns into sugary and cheesy skull dust.”

 Cass grins and fist-pumps the air as the rest of the table breaks into cheers.

 “Everyone breathe a sigh of relief! Encounter over.” He comments. “And I think we've reached our halfway mark, so we'll take a quick five minutes break to grab something to eat and drink, and we'll continue on after the break.”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| @maribat-march2020 | | @vixen-uchiha |

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 2 ~Sassenach~

"Weel, weel if it isn't my favourite sportsman, James Fraser."

Christ! What now? 

He groaned inwardly and turned to find a petite blonde walking towards him. Jamie had just escaped a group of old family acquaintances, evaded some uncomfortable questions about his disappearance, and the last thing he needed now was some more awkward conversation with a person he vaguely recognised. Prior to that, he'd briefly spoken to his parents, Brian and Ellen and his brothers, William and Robert. Like Jenny, they hadn't mentioned anything about his long absence. Instead, they'd welcomed him with open arms as if he'd never ignored their calls during the past few weeks. Grateful for the breathing space and respite, he knew eventually he would have to talk.

The blonde girl waited for him to say something as she sipped her white wine. With so many things occupying his thoughts, he could only summon an absentminded nod in her direction.

She flipped her long hair back with a flick of a hand and laughed coquettishly. "Ye don't remember me, do ye?"

"Eh ...ye look sorta familiar," he replied without matching her smile, his gaze briefly drifting somewhere else. "Ye're at my nephew's party, so I guess ye're a friend of Jenny."

Her cool floundered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. "Our parents are friends, and we went to the same school together. Laoghaire ...Laoghaire MacKenzie. Our families sometimes attend the same parties. I'm here with my nephew."

"Ah, right," he said flatly. "That explains why."

There was an uncomfortable silence, but he made no effort to ease the strain. He was thinking about the girl with the crazy, big hair.  And the mindblowing kiss.

Undeterred, Laoghaire stayed put. She looked like she was waiting for him to make some sort of move. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, he dragged in an impatient breath. Here at Broch Mordha, the village was somewhat removed from the rest of the world. What happened outside its bubble only mattered when it indirectly affected its inhabitants. Looking at her expression, his image as a ladies' man had penetrated that bubble. It's true, he'd had a few casual affairs in the past, but nothing long term. He'd appreciated them for what it was, treated whoever he was with well and was always forthright about not wanting anything serious. His focus had always been on rugby and everything that entailed the sport. 

Unfortunately, the media had made him out to be an unrepentant philanderer, thanks to the reputation of his uncle Dougal MacKenzie, a retired rugby union great and a former mentor when he'd first started out.  Like Uncle, like nephew,  so they'd whispered behind his back. Dougal had been a notorious womaniser back in his days, and his antics were often featured in the sports column.  How many wives had he had?  Jamie had lost count. So much for promoting a public persona that had nothing to do with his passion for rugby!  Since when did hard work, glory and distinction in sports become synonymous with the shallow world of celebrities?  In Jamie's case, ever since the camera had panned a close-up of his face during a televised game and the social media had erupted into a frenzy.   Suddenly, Jamie's looks and his relation to his uncle had become as important as his rugby skills when it came to attracting the lucrative endorsements and sponsorship deals that made him wealthy. But at what cost? A reputation that refused to shift. Maybe there was a certain amount of truth to what was being said about him. After all, his uncle's womanising ways had soured the idea of him committing to a relationship.

"So, ye're back," the blonde girl continued, seemingly unfazed by his lack of interest. "Maybe we can meet up for coffee or maybe..." Face turning red, she squared her shoulders. "...ye'll probably need help refamiliarising yersel' with the village and surrounding area."

"Why? Has Broch Mordha changed much?" He knew he was behaving like a complete prick. Over a year ago, his charm would have turned on involuntary around people, especially with pretty girls like the one in front of him.  Good old Jamie, the golden boy of British sports, always up for a picture or two or lay with some female celebrity or fan.  Everyone had wanted a piece of him until he'd announced his retirement. Then his phone had stopped ringing. But his agent had wanted to milk whatever was left of his fame by suggesting to go on the popular British television dance contest for celebrities,  Strictly Come Dancing .  What the fuck did that have to do with rugby?  Nowadays the only newsworthy thing about his name was his love life or some rehashed stories of his past. But here's a girl showing genuine interest so why couldn't he muster an ounce of enthusiasm? "Look, I'm so sorry. I haven't seen my family for a long while and ..."

"Ach, nae bother. Think nothing more about it," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "But if ye change yer mind, call me." She rummaged through her handbag and extracted a card, handing it to him. "I've a boutique shop in the square. Sew in Style. I usually take a break between one and two in the afternoon."

Jamie forced a smile, shoving the card in his pocket without looking at it. "Aye, if I ever need a perfect wee black dress, I'll let ye know."

She laughed out loud as if he just uttered the joke of the decade instead of a sarcastic comment. "And, by the way, I'm home tonight so, if ye fancy a glass of wine or two after yer nephew's party...my private number is at the back of the card."

His forced laughter was toneless. "A wine."

"Jamie! A moment please." A voice behind him called out.  Joe?    Ach, thank fuck!   

Jamie knew instantly his African-American friend was swooping in to save him from Laoghaire, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They weren't close, but Joe was more than a professional acquaintance and team doctor. In and outside his training, it was their talks that had kept him grounded throughout his career. And it was he who had kept in touch with his family during his therapy. When the title Rookie of the Year had threatened to inflate his head, Joe had reminded him not to get too cocksure as rugby career tended to be very short. Quickly making an apologetic shrug at Laoghaire, Jamie turned to face Joe, this time a sincere smile, if not relieved, plastered on his face. "How are ye, mate? Good to see ye."

Realising she was being dismissed, Laoghaire's expression went flat; nevertheless, she smiled, and with a small nod, and a muttered, "see ye around," she turned and left. Part of him felt awful for being rude, but the other half felt good to not play the charming ladies' man as portrayed by the newspaper.

Joe let out a whistle. "Whoa! Who are you and what did you do to James Fraser?"

"He's still here somewhere." Jamie clapped him on the back as they made their way to the table where his brothers and brother-in-law were sat. The guests were already starting to leave, and his parents have retired to the house.

"Jenny said you might come. So I stopped by," Joe said, grabbing his drink from the table. 

Ian, Jenny's husband, stood up and offered Jamie a beer, but he shook his head and zeroed in on the whisky instead. "I sent Joe to get ye. Ye looked like ye were suffering from a bout of gout talking to Laoghaire," he chuckled.

Jamie smiled pensively, pouring himself a healthy measure in the tumbler, and taking a seat between Rabbie and Willie. Despite his moodiness, he was glad to be around his brothers. Willie, the oldest of the Fraser siblings at age thirty-four, had his own construction company,  W.Fraser  while the youngest, Robert, better known as Rabbie, age twenty-three was studying Biochemistry at the University of Edinburgh. But Rabbie's passion was more into the woodwork, and in his spare time, he helped Willie create masterpieces out of wood or restored antiques. And so that left the Fraser Distillery to Jamie. Although unspoken, Jamie knew he was expected to take over the family business now that his rugby career was over. "Just a lot to take in at the moment. I didn't realise there would be plenty of guests."

The men nodded sympathetically as they supped their drinks.

"Here, ye wanted this," Rabbie said, breaking the silence and sliding a business card on the table "Got it from Jenny. Ye planning a party or something? Mind, it's a children's party company."

Sassenach!  Jamie grabbed the colourful card, read it and flipped it twice between his fingers. Giggle Beans Children's Party Planner. "Geillis Duncan ...the name doesnae sound English to me," he said thoughtfully.

Joe took a swig of his beer and frowned. "Geillis Duncan? I know her. She's a good mate of mine. The party planning is a new business she just started."

"Aye? Brown-haired lass?"

"No. Geillis is ginger. Like you."

"Weel, I heard Jenny calling the entertainer Geillis. Maybe she dyed her hair?" Ian suggested. "I never saw her face. I thought it was bonkers she had that dog mask on the whole time in this heat. I guess she didnae want to disappoint the bairns."

"I can call her if you wish. Like what I said, she's a close friend," Joe offered, taking out his phone. "Is it for a party?"

"Ahh, no. I ..." Jamie didn't know what to say, so he took out his phone instead. "No. I'll call." Reading from the card, he tapped the number on his phone screen and glared at everyone in warning to shush. No answer. Just an answering machine. After a while, he placed his phone back on the table. "What kind of business that's just starting out takes a week off?"

"Ah! It's to do with the wedding," Joe explained. "Our friend is getting married this weekend. I'm the man of honour and Geillis is the bride's maid."

Everyone laughed, and Rabbie's eyebrow shot up. "Man of honour. Never heard of that before."

Jamie ignored his brother. "Mmm, doesn't she have the staff to answer phone calls? It would make perfect business sense if she wanted to succeed."

"Not yet, but she has a few close friends helping her out for now," Joe shrugged. "I have no idea which friends though. Want me to call Geillis' on her private number?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, it can wait."

"If it's not about children's party, what is it ye calling for?" Ian asked.

"Wait a minute," Willie interrupted as if something just dawned on him. "Has this something to do with wee Jamie telling me that ye snogged the dog? His words. Not mine."

"Fuck, he said that?" Jamie choked.

"Aye, my wee lad told me something along those lines," Ian piped in, suddenly perking up. "I thought he's making stories up."

"Ye snogged the children's entertainer? The one in Paw Patrol costume?" Rabbie asked. "How'd ye manage that?"

"Alright, Jamie. I'm all dog's ears. What happened?" Joe dead-panned.

Everyone at the table burst out laughing.

"Fuck off!" Jamie split a frustrated look between his friend, brothers and his brother-in-law over the rim of his whisky. His younger brother, Robert, looked like he had tons of follow-up questions which Jamie could really do without. 

"He definitely snogged the dog," Rabbie confirmed with a smirk and a wink.

"Jesus, Jamie. Ye come out from yer cave for the first time in a long time, and ye snogged wee Jamie's party entertainer? Ye definitely need yer head looking at," Willie quipped, shifting on his seat. "What the hell happened?"

Although Jamie promised his mother to cut down on his alcohol consumption, suddenly, he wanted to straddle his hangover with a fresher one in an attempt to forget the kiss with the fiery English lass and to veer the conversation to something else. Feeling cornered and left with no choice, he complied and told them the whole story.

When Jamie was done, everyone shook their head like he'd just been crowned idiot of the year. "Ye actually bribed her with 30 quid?" Rabbie asked, slapping his forehead in disbelief. "Man, she must be a student like me, forever hard-up for dough. She must think ye're a self-entitled prick for that. Does she even know who ye are?" 

"Aye, she does. She was actually nice. She's the first person since I retired from sports to mention the subject of rugby."

Actually, Jamie had liked her even before she had taken off the mask. She'd had this mixture of vulnerability and tenacity that had grabbed his attention the moment she'd started speaking. He could have talked to her all day and not been bored. And then she'd taken off the mask, and he'd known there, and then he was flummoxed.

He remembered her big amber eyes flecked with grey flashing in anger and thought of how her lips had felt moving with his. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

"So, tell me, how did she grab the hundred-pound note? With her furry paws?" 

Willie threw a beer bottle cap at the younger Fraser. "Leave it to Rabbie to ask the mechanics of every minute detail. Jamie had a snogging session with a dog, so let's just appreciate it for what it is."

Jamie took no notice of the jest. "It wasn't even a proper snog. It was more like  take-that, ye-prick  kinda snog."

"Oh, man. This is bad. Look at ye. Ye really have it bad, Jamie lad. Ye're paying for yer past mistakes. Aye, that's it! That's karma. That's what happens when ye leave a trail of broken hearts in yer wake. A taste of yer own medicine." Willie shook his head at his brother in mock sympathy.

"What do ye plan to do then if ye manage to get hold of her? Ask her out? Do ye even want to have a girlfriend? " Ian asked, seriously this time.

So what's the plan?  If for no other reason, he wanted to track the English lass down just to correct her misconception of him. And if he was downright honest with himself, he craved to kiss her again—a lot. "I have nae idea. Truly, nae idea. But one thing for sure, she and I aren't done," he muttered before downing the rest of his whisky.

..........

I can't do this. I have to get out of here.

The four walls of the room felt like they're closing in on her. Claire tried to regulate her breathing as panic slashed mercilessly at her guts. The bodice of her dress dug into her ribs, and the choker pearl necklace felt like a noose binding her. She started to hyperventilate, and she reached up and ripped off the pearl-encrusted lace veil. Bending at the waist, she placed her hands on her knees and gulped in air.

In fifteen minutes, she was getting married to Frank. She tried to picture him in his tuxedo, his chocolate brown hair neatly brushed back, flashing his perfect smile at their waiting guests, most of them his associates and friends. Earlier while she was getting dressed, a box of white orchids from her fiance arrived with a handwritten note. It read:  I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.  Beautiful. So why did those mere words sent a shiver down her spine? Everything was perfect. Frank was perfect. So what was wrong?

She thought of the people in her life. There were not many of them. Sure, there were plenty of acquaintances and work colleagues at the hospital, and she was well-liked. But those she held dear and was closest to, she could count on the fingers of one hand. Orphaned at the age of five, she was raised by her only living relative, her father's brother, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Having spent her childhood travelling the world with her guardian while working on archaeological sites, their nomadic lifestyle didn't allow much room for close friendships and ties. At least until she started her medical studies when her uncle finally settled down to teach history at the University of Edinburgh. Although a loner, she had bonded with Geillis Duncan and Joe Abernathy one night while watching a televised rugby game at the local pub. Scotland had just won. After hugging as strangers in celebration and debating about  the man of the match  over pints of Guinness, they became steadfast friends ever since.

And then Frank came along. He was a specialist surgeon at the time when they first met. He was her boss and her mentor when she started her internship. Their shared love for the intricacies of medical and surgical art of healing brought them closer together, first as friends and eventually as lovers. He was a patient teacher, and she was an eager student, lapping up his knowledge and experience. But that's where their common interest ended. Outside work, they had different interests and sets of friends. Claire loved sports, hanging out in a pub, reading books and night-ins watching movies. She was laidback whereas Frank loved attending formal charity events and socialising with the upper crust professionals of Edinburgh. More often than not, their differences made her feel she had to make a choice between him and her friends.

Claire closed her eyes and tried to calm her rioting nerves. Over the past year, almost every instant she attempted to meet up with Joe and Geillis, Frank gave her a difficult time. Her fiance pointed out how limited time they spent together with their hectic work schedules and her little get-togethers with her friends were causing a division in their relationship. Although Claire considered herself independent, gutsy and opinionated, her resolve turned into mush whenever Frank turned on his charm and wholehearted devotion in getting his point across. And so she'd started making excuses. She hated lying to her friends, but Frank soothed her guilt by being more attentive and generous with his gifts.

He doesn't like your friends. He wants to change you. 

The voice in her head got louder, and her breathing became more erratic.

Run now before it's too late.

Lightheadedness threatened, and she staggered to her feet, swaying a little. She needed air so badly. Maybe the wedding pressure was finally getting to her. With her demanding job and long hours at work, she was bone-tired from fretting about every final detail of their wedding. Frank was a perfectionist, and he disliked disorganisation and lack of care. Every aspect of their nuptials needed to be perfect. And with almost four hundred guests, including the local press and his high-society associates, it was an event too important to muck up. It was her job to make sure everything was flawless.

What matters more, Beauchamp? Pleasing a bunch of hoity-toity or your friends? Is this really the world you want to live in?

She knew Frank didn't approve of her friends.  "They're a bit rough around the edges, darling. I hope they will not embarrass me at the wedding,"  he had said casually. But Claire had stood her ground and defended them. Besides uncle Lamb, Joe and Geillis were like family to her. They were her people.

The sound of violin music and the drone of voices drifting into the room alerted her. She knew Geillis, Joe and uncle Lamb were waiting outside, and soon the door would open. They left earlier when she told them she needed a moment alone. Any time now, they would come and fetch her. Feeling sick, she lurched toward the stained glass window and jiggled the knob. It budged a few inches, allowing hot air to flow through.  Breathe!  Why was she having second thoughts? Together they would be a power couple saving lives, attending charity events and helping change the world. So, what was the matter? 

Nothing is the matter. I love Frank. He's great, and he makes me a better person.

Ya-dah, ya-dah. What do you know of love, Beauchamp? You kissed the Fraser lad. Maybe the hot Scot is not for you, but if you really love Frank, the kiss wouldn't have happened.

The hot weather and lack of sleep muddled my brains.

Yeah, right. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

What now?

Get the hell out of there and run!

Sunlight caught the sparkle of her diamond engagement ring, making her wince. Quickly, she took it off and placed it on the table. No time for weighing the consequences, the rights and wrongs, the cost. No time to draw up statistical or pie charts and mull over percentages.

Trust your gut, Beauchamp. It has never failed you on the operating table.

But I can't leave him waiting at the altar.

Listen, you fool. Once you walk down that aisle, it's over. So straighten those panties and worry about the consequences later.

Her head was spinning in a frenetic circle, making her dizzy. Claire looked at the closed door and swallowed hard. What she was about to do would change the course of her life and maybe, the career she had worked hard for. But there was no time.

Go, go, go, Beauchamp!

Bugger it!  Heart pounding, Claire yanked the window with all her might, and to her astonishment, it opened like a shot nearly knocking her backwards. She didn't have time to analyse if it was her physical strength or the adrenaline increasing the blood flow into her muscles that made the window budge. Ignoring the judging eyes of the Blessed Virgin Mary statue, she squeezed her body through the opening and wriggled her way to freedom.

..........

"Thank you, Jamie. Sorry again to call you on such short notice. I owe you big time, mate," Joe said, saluting him as he opened the passenger door.

"Nae worries, Joe. Happy to help. Now, go before you miss the wedding," Jamie replied. 

Joe smiled one last time and got out.

Jamie waited and watched his friend run and disappeared through the door of the church before easing his car from the curb. The church bell rang, letting him know the ceremony was about to commence. There were a few reporters with cameramen lingering outside and thought, whoever Joe's friend was marrying must be well-known and newsworthy.

Joe had called Jamie earlier after his car broke down. Apparently, the bride's uncle had forgotten to bring something important, and Geillis had sent him to retrieve it, by hook or by crook. Luckily for Joe, he caught him as he was about to leave for Lallybroch for the weekend. 

Jamie was just turning right at the junction when a cloud of white material hanging out of a window on the far side of the church caught his attention.  What the fuck?   Not stopping to think, he slammed his foot on the brake and got out of the car, leaving it stranded in the middle of the road. He started to jog across the grassy area and over the bed of flowers, keeping his eye on the wriggling figure coming out of the window.  Christ, is that the bride?

Then his heart stopped and faltered. The person in the white dress was falling. His perception of time became distorted, slowing everything down until there was nothing, only the figure in white that was about to hit the ground.  No! No! Please, God!  Pushing himself, he bolted like a sprinter at the start gun, covering the uneven ground with a precise speed of a disciplined athlete, knowing full well his thighs had enough power to make it in seconds, each of his strides at least worth two of an untrained person. Barely breaking a sweat, he made it in the nick of time and caught the body in his arms.

His heart knocking uncontrollably against his ribs, he let out a massive sigh of relief and looked down at the bride. Her porcelain skin was flushed, and her fancy hairdo lay lopsided to the side with pins sticking out, making the dark curls spring wildly around her face. His gaze briefly landed on her parted lips before settling on a pair of snapping amber eyes. He fought past his lack of speech and wondered if the weeks he'd spent in a drunken stupor was causing him to hallucinate. "Sassenach!?!"

[alarawriting]

Inktober #26: Dark

My name’s Mike London, and I hunt vampires, and that’s why I don’t love the darkness anymore.

Yeah, I know, I know. At this point you’re probably thinking “do we really have time to unpack all that?”, but the thing you’re getting hung up on is vampires, because vampires aren’t real. How could creatures who are technically dead survive only on blood, and if they were running around turning people into vampires every time they drank blood, why isn’t the world overrun with vampires? How could anyone function if they burst into flames when exposed to sunlight, why wouldn’t they show up on mirrors, does that mean they don’t show up on cameras, so on and so forth.

Okay, so most of the myths are wrong. You can see a vampire in a mirror… unless the vampire is positioned to see into your eyes, or their reflection. Vampires are stronger than humans but not by much – you know about that hysterical strength “mom lifts car off child” thing humans can do in extreme circumstances? They can do it all the time, because their bodies are constantly resetting to a perfect state based on what they were like at the moment of undeath, plus their self-image, with bodies that are perfectly healed except for anything that’s part of the self-image, like a scar that they’ve grown to identify with or a piercing. They’re faster than most humans, but they still have human muscles, so we’re talking Usain Bolt, not the Flash, or even a cheetah. They do burst into flames when exposed to strong ultraviolet light, a condition I can kind of sympathize with myself. And they aren’t created when a vampire drinks your blood, but when you drink a vampire’s, when your own blood levels are very low. As soon as a person has more vampiric blood than human blood in their system, boom, vampire.

They have only one really magical superpower, aside from the fact that they’re alive when they shouldn’t be, and it explains all the others that humans believe they have. If they can look into your eyes, and hold your gaze, they can control your mind. Make you think they’re invisible, make you think they just exploded into a hundred bats, make you compelled to do what they say.

It doesn’t work on me, because I’m an albino. And that’s why, despite the fact that all I ever wanted was to write programs, I am stuck hunting vampires as a side hustle. I’m still physically weaker and slower than they are, and while I see better in the dark than you do, I don’t see as well as they do. In light without UV components, such as standard indoor lighting, my vision’s more impaired than theirs, and a lot more than yours. But they can’t mesmerize me, and frankly, your average vampire has gotten so used to being able to mesmerize humans, it’s crippling for them to run into a human where it doesn’t work.

You probably haven’t got the vaguest idea why being an albino protects me. Maybe you have some notion that albinos have weird superpowers, since frankly in fiction we almost always do. You probably don’t know exactly how my disabilities work – in movies and TV, albinos never get to play albinos, it’s always white men in makeup.

Albinos have bad vision. Lack of pigment in the retina when we’re developing gives us vision problems that can’t be corrected with glasses. It’s like we have fewer pixels to see the world than you do, so everything’s going to be fuzzy no matter how strong the prescription lenses are. And a side effect of bad vision from birth is something called rhythmatic nystagmus, where our eyes go back and forth like an old DVD using pan-and-scan to show a movie on old-school near-square CRT televisions. (Old technology’s a hobby of mine.) I don’t have any conscious control or even awareness of it; I couldn’t stop my eyes from moving like that if I tried, short of closing them. My brain does post-processing on the moving image to make it look to me like my eyes aren’t moving, combining multiple snapshots from different angles into a single image. It means my ability to see a moving object is crap even if it’s close enough that I should be able to see it otherwise, but in theory it lets me see more detail than I would otherwise.

The thing is, there’s a reason the legends all have the vampires going “Look into my eyes”. They need to be able to make and sustain eye contact, the kind where you stare into each other’s eyes, and they can’t do that with eyes that are moving constantly. It’s not that I can’t see their eyes, because for me things don’t look like they’re going back and forth while my eyes move. It’s that they can’t look into mine.

I found this out the hard way last year. I was working at a big financial company, and I was behind schedule on the software I was building for them, and they had security rules that didn’t allow me to work from home. The boss used to say not to stay after hours, but I figured this was the kind of thing bosses say to make the company sound friendly and accommodating but is actually a control freak thing intended to benefit the morning people, which I have never been one of. I can’t drive – the state won’t give me a license, with my eyes – and I have chronic insomnia and equally chronic problems with waking up in the morning, making it impossible for me to rideshare with any of my co-workers. So I generally have an intermittently employed friend of mine who shares my apartment drive me places, and this means I’m usually late to work. If I can’t stay late and I can’t bring work home, I fall behind on my projects. Also, I do my best work late at night when there are no distractions. So I was in the habit of going to the bathroom with all of my stuff around 5:30 and then coming out at 6 after my boss had left. I could sit on the toilet with my laptop and continue to work, answering emails and setting Outlook to send them at 8 am in the morning the next day to make it look like I work normal hours, and then when I came out I could get back to the serious programming work, because my boss wasn’t a programmer and had no idea how to check the timestamps of my build check-ins.

It turned out it wasn’t corporate bullcrap after all. It was vampires. Vampires would come into the building to hold meetings on some kind of irregular schedule that meant something to them. I’d been working late for almost two weeks when they showed up, mesmerized my housemate and nearly ate both of us, and I had to kill a few of them with the combination of a steak knife from the kitchen and the cheap bamboo chopsticks I have a few hundred of in my drawer because I’m always getting Chinese takeout for lunch. See, you can’t actually stab a chopstick into a vampire’s heart – it’s too fragile – but stabbing with a regular knife only takes them out of commission for the two minutes or so it takes them to heal. But if you then stick a wooden chopstick in the wound, it prevents them from regenerating, and bamboo is apparently wood for vampire-killing purposes.

Also, I had a black light in my laptop bag, suitable for detecting whether my cats have peed on my laptop bag before I take it to work because they’ve done it so many times I’ve gotten desensitized to the smell of cat pee, and while I don’t like looking at UV light – my eyes have zero protection from it, so it’s painful – it’s a lot worse for vampires, whose skin will burn from very tiny amounts of UV exposure and can actually set on fire. And it’s just astonishing how often vampires will stand there trying to mesmerize you while you walk up to them and stab them in the heart, because they just can’t comprehend “human who cannot be mesmerized”.

And now that I know vampires exist and that I’m immune to their most powerful weapon… well, shit. I’m kind of stuck. I don’t actually know any other albinos, or anyone else with rhythmic nystagmus, and for normal people, wearing the kind of dark glasses that make it so the vampires can’t see your eyes will completely prevent you from seeing anything in the kind of darkness vampires like. I’m the only one I know who can do this. And they don’t kill humans constantly – they don’t need to – but they spread disease (they can’t get blood-borne illnesses but they can sure carry them) and they tend to pick on weaker humans to begin with, people who have less resistance to the bad effects of losing a lot of blood, because if chronically ill people seem sick and lethargic everyone assumes it’s their illness and not vampires attacking them. They’re like humanoid rats, in other words. If you had a well-behaved pet one who never harmed humans and only drank from volunteers, that one would be fine. But the rest of them are vermin.

Now, the best time to kill vampires is during the day, when they’re sleeping. Vampires know this. You are not going to find them when they’re sleeping, and if you did, you’d have to fight your way through their security guards, who are human, and do not know they’re protecting vampires, and really don’t deserve to have to deal with people trying to kill them. Also, being security guards, they are better at mayhem than I am; I’m an IT guy. So, lucky me, I have to go after them at night, when they have all the advantages except one: they expect to be able to mesmerize me, and they can’t.

Nighttime used to be my time. No bright sun glaring in my face and giving me a sunburn. Everyone around me having such poor vision from it being dark that my bad eyesight isn’t a disadvantage anymore, and when it’s dark enough, my eyesight gets better than theirs because my eyes collect every single photon that hits them, no filters. I’d walk around at night, or crank up my stereo and write code until 4 am.

But every time it’s dark, now, I know: they’re out there. They’re hunting. Feeding. And if I don’t track them down and get rid of them, people might die.

And that’s why I can’t love the darkness anymore.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Chaos Theory

Part Eight

(The last installment in solving puzzles. Appropriately, it’s the longest.)

The time was 4:12am. Or 4:13, as Jackie booted up the laptop once more and watched the numbers shift. He sighed. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and now there was a bone-deep weariness dragging him down. But he couldn’t stop. He had no doubt that the gamemaster had more tricks up his sleeve that he had to prevent.

Jackie was sitting in the passenger seat of the car. He briefly looked away from the screen and around at the others. Chase was in the driver’s seat, leaning on the wheel with his head in his folded arms. JJ and Marvin were in the back seat. Marvin had his forehead against the window with his eyes closed and his legs folded up on the seat. JJ looked composed, sitting straight with his hands in his lap, but anyone who knew him well could tell he was on edge by his shaky breathing and wide eyes staring directly forward.

They had to finish this.

Jackie’s eyes hardened, and he turned back to the laptop. He’d received one last email, and this one had only one thing attached: a file called 4.png. There was a message written as well: Good luck with this one. You’ll need it :)

“Fuck you,” Jackie muttered, opening the .png file.The image was nothing but a white screen, with lines of black rectangles. But Jackie recognized the formatting immediately: blacked-out text. And by this point he knew to plug the image into the picture editor and play with sliders. Brightening it up revealed the writing that had been blacked out: a bunch of numbers that by now he recognized as hexadecimal code. He groaned; this was an image, which meant he had to type it into the translator by hand instead of copy-pasting. That’s going to take forever.

As he was typing the code into the online translator, Jackie noticed something odd. This particular code was just a lot of repeating 30s and 31s, with the occasional 20 thrown in. That was...weird. Did that mean it was really just a few characters? Jackie clicked translate, and then immediately understood. It was binary language; a bunch of ones and zeros. He sighed. Well, at least he could copy this one.

The binary turned out to be yet another url: yourfinalset.com. Jackie frowned. “That’s not ominous at all,” he muttered, plugging it into the browser.

A loading bar popped up, and a cheerful-sounding chiptune began to play. That got everyone’s attention. JJ and Marvin looked at Jackie oddly, while Chase leaned over to look at the screen. “What kind of puzzle is this?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Jackie said, shrugging. A moment later, and the screen had loaded up. Jackie blinked. “Apparently it’s not a puzzle. It’s a game.”

“Wait, what?” Marvin pushed his head into the space between the driver’s seat and passenger seat. JJ did the same, pushing his way into an empty spot. “Oh my god, you!”

“What?” Jackie looked at him peculiarly.

“You!” Marvin pointed at the computer screen.

“Wait, bro, I get it.” Chase pointed as well. “The little avatar, it’s you.”

Jackie looked at the screen again. It showed a pixelated room with stone walls and a squiggly design on the floor, connected to three more identical rooms that were only half-on the screen. There was a character in the center of the room wearing a red outfit with a blue mask and brown hair. Jackie gaped. “Oh, it is. Shit, how long has this guy been planning this? If he had time to make a full video game.” He moved the little avatar into the next room, revealing more of the screen. And then again, only to find a dead end. “Oh, not just a game. This is a maze game.”

Marvin inhaled sharply. “I hate these.”

“Yeah, they can be annoying,” Chase agreed. “My guess is you have to make it through while taking notes of the letters on the floor.”

“Letters?” Jackie moved back to the first room. “Oh, that is a W, isn’t it? Well, can someone write this down? Cause I’ll be too busy trying to find my way.”

If someone can give me a pen, I can, JJ signed.

“Here.” Chase grabbed a pencil off the dashboard and tossed it to him. “This person probably won’t mind if we use their pencil. I mean, we already stole their car, I don’t think they’ll be any more annoyed than they already are.”

My sentiments exactly, JJ agreed, grabbing a napkin from a compartment in the side of the car door next to him.

Ten minutes later, Jackie reached the end of the maze, signified by a small golden crown of pixels in the middle of the last room. The screen turned red, with black text: YOU WIN! Enter password for next level.

“Shit,” Jackie cursed. “I think this is where the letters come in. Jays?”

JJ passed the napkin to Jackie. There were a few crossed out rows of letters, but the final circled row was another url: 73707963616d657261.com. “Why is nothing simple with this guy?!” Jackie suddenly shouted, punching the ceiling of the car.

“Because he hates us,” Marvin stated. His tone was casual, but he’d suddenly gone very stiff, as if he just remembered being in a small, enclosed space filling with water.

Jackie took a deep breath. “You’re not wrong. Gotta keep going.” He checked the time real quick: 4:27. Then he opened a new tab and entered the url.

The new website was just a white square with a play button and a download button. Jackie hesitated, then clicked play. The white square revealed itself to be a video, as the camera panned up from where it had been pointing at the snowy ground. The camera panned across, showing it was filming the city streets. And then it zoomed in on a pair of people across the road. There was no sound of the city, just a weird, distorted noise overlayed.

“Oh my god,” Jackie whispered. Chase covered his mouth, eyes wide.

“That’s...that’s us...” Marvin muttered, looking at JJ, who was significantly paler than he had been a few seconds ago. The video showed Marvin and JJ walking along the city streets, signing with each other and occasionally stopping to look in shop windows. The person filming followed entirely silently, always at a distance. “That’s...that’s fucked up.”

“There’s snow,” Jackie muttered. “How...how old is this?”

“I remember this,” Marvin muttered. “Look, we’re gonna stop outside of Gimley’s now.” The video showed them doing exactly that. “This was when I was giving JJ a tour of the city, showing him how it’s changed since he was...you know.” Marvin took a deep breath. “That was December two years ago.”

“Fuck. Fuck this,” Jackie said, pausing the video. “Two years...fuck this guy.”

JJ looked away from the screen, disappearing into the back seat once more.

“What do we do with this?” Chase asked quietly.

Jackie took a deep breath. “Well...did you hear that weird audio? My guess is we’re gonna have to look at that closer.” He downloaded the video.

Running a spectrogram on the video’s audio revealed a hidden message in the sound: The letters JCHMJ. Jackie immediately switched back to the maze game and entered those as the password. The screen loaded, revealing another level of the maze, the pixelated stone walls a darker color.

“No letters on the floor this time, “ Jackie noted. “Let’s go.”

4:39am by the time the next maze level was complete. Once again, the YOU WIN! screen popped up, but this one was different. In addition to a space to enter a password, there was a message: Password is the timestamp, followed by a date and the YouTube logo.

“We need to find a YouTube video?” Jackie asked.

 “How are we supposed to know which video?! Do you know how many there are?!” Marvin cried.

“It’s 3:54,” Chase said all of a sudden.

Jackie and Marvin looked at him. “Chase?” Jackie asked. “How...do you know—”

“Trust me, I know,” Chase said. He was deliberately not looking at either of them. “It’s better than you guys looking for a video that’s not up anymore.”

Marvin looked confused, but Jackie’s eyes suddenly widened. He entered the timestamp into the space for the password, and the game instantly loaded up the next level. He looked over at Chase. “Hey...”

“Let’s just get through this next level, okay?” Chase cut him off.

Jackie stared at him a while longer, then nodded.

The last level had red stone walls, and took until 4:45 to complete. This time, the YOU WIN! screen didn’t have a space to enter a password, but instead a few lines of binary. Jackie sighed, then began typing the binary into the online translator by hand. Once translated, it turned out to be more hexadecimal code. Translating that once again let to an address: 25 Waverly Street.

“We only have an hour and a twenty minutes left,” Jackie said, rubbing his eyes.

“We could just...not go,” Marvin suggested. “What do we have left to lose if...no one else is...” He went silent.

“I don’t know,” Jackie said. “But I don’t want to find out. And honestly, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy had sniper rifles trained on us to take us out if we stop playing along.”

“Then we better get going,” Chase said, starting the car.

In a building in the center of the city, the gamemaster watched through cameras as a car pulled away from the curb and started speeding through city streets. He wasn’t about to lie; he was impressed. He honestly hadn’t been expecting Jackieboy to get this far.

But the question was if he would survive the final stage.

The gamemaster swiveled in his seat, turning his attention to another camera. He pressed a button activating an intercom. “Are you ready for the grand finale?” he asked. Though the intercom was two-way, there was no answer. He laughed to himself.

Just a quick test run of the crucial mechanisms, and then...the gamemaster glanced at the edge of his desk. A mask was dangling off the corner.

 The gamemaster smiled. This was turning out to be so much more satisfying than he ever could’ve guessed.

[ofaphrvdite]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the prince of russia and king consort of england, MAKSIM ROMANOV, has arrived. being 27 years old, he is out of line to the throne. many around the court call him the mutineer, by virtue of him being dexterous and maverick, while also being  recalcitrant and brazen.  — played by brenton thwaites.

- THE BASICS.

full name: maksim alexei romanov name meaning: maksim ‘the greatest’, alexei ‘defender’ known in history as: king in the shadows, the white wolf date of birth: june 21st, 1639/1992 age: twenty six star sign: cancer profession: freelance photographer (modern verse) / prince of russia, king consort of england (royal verse) loyalty: russia, house romanov, england and house windsor, the entente alignment: chaotic good mbti: estp spoken languages: russian, english, advanced french, intermediate german (royal verse) / english, russian, basic spanish (modern verse) mother’s name: tsarina tatyana romanovna father’s name: tsar ivan romanov siblings, if any: anastasia romanovna-du bourbon, dmitri romanov, vasiliy romanov, karina romanovna height: 6’0” hair colour: brown eye colour: dark brown

- BACKSTORY / MODERN VERSE.

it was an odd thing being born as one half of a whole. coming into the world knowing you would always have another at your side through every new experience. maksim and dmitri romanov were two sides of the same coin from the day they first wailed their first cry. growing up, maksim was determined to stick by his brother’s side for everything. for a time it had only been the three of them. just anastasia, dmitri and him. they had forged a bond early in those days, sharing absolutely everything with eachother that would translate into their adulthood. maksim was patient with his siblings, understanding and above all else, never judged them. 

growing up under the roof of the infamous media moguls, tatyana and ivan romanov, meant that maksim came with a brand that would follow him everywhere. one that only grew when the family began starring on their own reality tv show. everything he knew about himself, he discovered on the cameras. his whole personality shaped around the person he was expected to be for a show. he was less keen of the cameras than his siblings, but his appearances often provided the comic relief with his brother and he became a hit with the younger audience. the first time he’d seen something he’d said on a t-shirt had still been pretty wild though. 

because of the huge spotlight on the family, the twins were sent off to boarding school for their education where there would hopefully be less scrutiny. most of the kids there had parents far too rich to bother about another one joining their rankings, afterall. and it proved to be one of the most helpful periods of his life. boarding school offered him the chance to decide who he wanted to be because trying to work out who you were with a camera shoved in your face was near impossible. though he never consciously made the decision, he had constructed a character in his years on the show, one that would meet the expectations of viewers watching. if anastasia was going to play the part of overbearing older sister, then he would play the lovable but dimwitted jock brother. and for years that’s who he styled himself as.

in truth, maksim was all that and more. yes he liked rebelling and making trouble, but he was happiest at home with a good book or at the local art gallery. whilst he loved any and all sports, his shelves were filled with comic books and limited edition collectibles. it was away from the rest of his family that he could finally grow into himself. realise the things he truly enjoyed to do, the things that he was good at that he didn’t have to share with his other four siblings.

boarding school proved to be destiny in more ways than one. as maksim was finding himself, it led him straight to the love of his life. victoria was at the local girls boarding school, and it took just one school dance for him to fall utterly head over heels for her. they dated all throughout school, never once tiring of the other. she was a grounding force for him, encouraging him to focus on what he wanted and go for it. and in turn he brought thrill to her life that she lacked with such rigid family expectations. they were a perfect match all things considered, and so it was to no ones surprise ( and karina’s absolute horror ) that maks proposed. the couple are now planning for their wedding, which promises to be a grand summer spectacle to all those lucky enough to earn an invite.

whilst he had everything he wanted in victoria, his future still remained a murky mess. every year, maks would go to his careers interview with his school adviser. and every year, he would shrug his shoulders when asked what it was he wanted to do with his life. he knew that his mother was desperate for him to go off to university as anastasia had, and that all hopes were on him because there was no way they’d be able to wrestle dmitri into another classroom once he was off scot-free. and so, despite the fact that he had exactly zero interest in it, when the time rolled around maksim applied to study history. at least it would get the careers adviser off his back, and college might be fun - right? 

wrong. maksim managed to make it through a month of studying before he went home to go to a concert he’d planned with dima months ago. and then never went back. literally never. sayonara to all those shiny pots and pans his parents had gifted him, and the macbook that had one half finished assignment on it and not much else. and so he was back to square one.

rather than sit around at home moping for the camera, maksim took off for a year and went travelling. sure the family had been on some pretty decent holidays over the years, but he wanted to see more. he sent various postcards home from his time in thailand, indonesia and brazil. with everywhere in between. eventually he settled in australia for six months, taking up odd jobs where he could and collecting a group of like-minded friends. all people running away from adult responsibilities for that little bit longer. so while his girlfriend was earning herself a useful degree, maksim was surfing and bungee jumping his way through his inheritance. 

it was during his time in australia that he discovered his love for photography. he’d always loved art, and shown bounds of creativity growing up. whenever he grew too anxious or was failing to concentrate, it was drawing that often centered him. just doodles at first, then panels of his favourite characters from comics. but it was travelling where he really began to utilise the natural eye he had. what began as photographs to share on his instagram, turned into scrapbooks that he would send to victoria to keep her as involved as possible in his life. it was a happy accident that people began to take notice really. the odd person began asking him to take photos of this and that, offering to pay for a headshot here and a small wedding there. nothing major, but enough that maks began to consider it as a real career option. with ana’s persistent encouragement and help, he set up his first photography instagram and took the first step into adulthood.

upon his return to the states, maksim got serious ( as serious as he was capable ) about his career as a freelance photographer. he set up his own website and bookings flooded in. most were either mocking him for his family’s name, or fans, but enough that he could really begin to make a living out of it. with most of his inheritance depleted, it made the whole going out on his own thing all that more tangible and exciting. plus, the freelancing gave him the opportunity to keep up with everything else he wanted to do in life. never making him feel too tied down with responsibility. he could work his jobs around whatever holiday or event he had planned. he didn’t need to hang up his thrill-seeking for good in exchange for the not-so-promised land of being a grown up.

maks is still a photographer, and in the midst of wedding planning. he still makes frequent appearances on the romanov reality show with his other siblings, all of whom he keeps in very close contact with. he splits his time between his parents house and the home he shares with victoria and his pet, danya. finally, he has found his place in life and it’s one that is always changing. and thank god for that, maksim couldn’t bear the thought of an average life.

- BACKSTORY / ROYAL VERSE.

no romanov was born lonely. this could be said twice true of maksim, who came into this world minutes after his twin and thus claiming his destiny as the spare heir between two tiny red fists. one so intrinsically linked to a life of forgotten mediocrity the child would likely never escape. and yet he never felt that left out growing up. yes it was odd that he didn’t have the famed bright romanov eyes of frozen blue and green ( his did not shine, just two hazel pools ) but he had his father’s look about him. that unkempt charm that had warmed the russian people to him in the first place. still, the children at court teased him when the tsarina was not around, jesting that he was no true born romanov like his siblings, but tatyana set them straight with an icy glare. assuring her son that it was not a look he need possess; he was a romanov because of the blood in his veins, the love his family bore him and the loyalty they gave him.

still. the dreaded sword of the middle child hung over him the elder he grew. all around him, his siblings seemed destined for greatness. dmitri, the future tsar of russia, who would remain at home in russia as they all craved. anastasia, who would one day be queen consort to one of the greatest nations and alliances their mother could possibly bring about. vasiliy, a third son, was near ten times smarter than he would ever be and would prove an asset to any crown he advised, he was sure of it. and karina, the baby of the family and yet already so sure of her own mind, and so doted on as the youngest. maksim adored each and every one of them, and was proud to be brother to their eminence. he was a good man at heart, and cared for his family deeply as was the romanov way, taking up the mediator hand in hand with vasiliy to quell the chaos of their family. for though he was gifted with a boisterous disposition, he was far more level-headed than the elder two and often brought logic to otherwise ridiculous fights. but he lacked a purpose of his own. though he was quite the charmer, always flirting with ladies at court and wreaking innocent havoc with his elder siblings, there was no talent of his own to focus on. maksim was intelligent in his quiet way, a strategic mind just waiting to be sharpened if only someone offered him the chance. if someone would just look to him, just once. 

the tsarina and tsar grew anxious for their lost boy. their other children all seemed so certain of their path, of their skills and talents, and maksim stood in the middle of it all with nothing of his own to claim. it was his mother ( she had always lavished affection on her third, never wanting him to feel lesser with two elder siblings already lining up for a crown ) that had guided him to a purpose. urging ivan romanov to encourage battle strategy and warfare in maksim, to forge him into a warrior and hero. at fourteen, his lessons began and maksim took to them like a duck to water. wielding sword and shield as if he had been born for knighthood, not life as a prince. though he still has moments of doubt about how useful he is to his family, at least now he had a skill to prove himself.

and he needn’t have waited long for a chance. war had raged throughout europe for long enough, and he had remained unaffected for far too long. when armies were called, both he and dmitri at just eighteen were sent with the imperial army into war as generals. and maksim would be given his first taste of war and combat outside of a tournament or training. and it was glorious. until it wasn’t.

the rush of the fight didn’t linger long, and months away from home soon sapped all that naive boyhood from his features. the brothers saw eachother through their first kill, steadying their twin soul until they could stand again at their side. maksim proved able of compartmentalising the worst of it all to deal with at a time where the horrors could rip him apart in the safety of his own home. for so long he had lived without responsibility, always the spare and never the heir, and yet it was war that forced him to step up. to care for his brother in the way he had always looked after him. years of loyalty, repaid at the worst time. still, the brothers managed to find glimpses of light, including rescuing two stray puppies that they hoped might keep the darkness at bay at night. they named the terriers danya and nadya, and vowed to keep them safe until they could return home.

the terrors of war left scars unseen on the young prince, despite returning home relatively unscathed. it was the brutal separation from his twin brother that had left the greatest trauma behind. they had been together all their lives, and together when they’d been parted - both with the matching scars as painful reminder. maksim had been knocked unconscious and awoke to the sharp realisation that his brother had been taken. when he eventually found his way back to camp, all the men turned to stare as if they’d seen a ghost, not a bloodied prince returning from battle. the romanov twins had been missing and presumed dead for days, and yet it had been the most useless one that straggled back. it didn’t take long for the tsarina to call maksim home, grieving the loss of her eldest and too fearful to lose another. maks returned to the winter palace with the two bundles of danya and nadya, the sole link he had to dima, and a promise to keep them safe in his absence. he was hailed a hero upon his homecoming for the strength he had shown in war, the sacrifices he’d made. but the medal pinned to his jacket had brought more nausea than it did pride. what good was dressed up metal when his brother hadn’t returned with him?

the months following passed in a blur. dealing with stately visits as the new elder in the family, with anastasia long since whisked away to france, in between the moments of solitude he sought where he would paint to ease the terrible things he’d seen or play with karina who so often clung to him in those first few days. even sneaking into vasiliy’s imposed quarantine when he could to keep his brother’s spirits high proved a much welcome distraction. it was only as the war came to a head, and foreign rulers from all over began to take note of the damage they had sustained, that things began to change.

a summit had been called at bern, and all foreign rulers were invited to attend in the name of peace. not only was this an opportunity for the tsarina to aid in ending the war and to reunite the family with their long lost russian princess, but to further her already fruitful alliances. karina was still unwed, as was vasiliy, and so both came with maksim to the summit in hopes of securing other strongholds in europe. maks, of course had long since been taken. from a young age, a betrothal with the princess of england, victoria, had been arranged for the young prince. they had met once upon a time as children, but had not taken to eachother as their parents had hoped. but the young couple were reunited at bern, their countries now on opposing sides of a war that their marriage could be useful in ending. maksim had been determined to dislike her, and so of course he had fallen for the fair victoria the moment he had laid his eyes on her.

it didn’t take long for love to grow between the two royals. maksim especially grew taken with her strong will, sharp mind and seemingly unreachable beauty. it was shaping up to be quite the fairytale, until the succession of england’s throne had been thrown into chaos with the queen’s deepest secret now uncovered. the future king charles, was of no royal blood at all, but a bastard born from an affair of the queen’s who swiftly lost her head for it. it was victoria who was now the heir, and that left maksim once again out of use, left out in the cold. england sought a better alliance now that victoria was now crown princess. though eventually things were settled, maksim proving he could be a worthy consort, this period of time left him feeling more insecure than ever of his true worth.

with the matters of succession sorted, maksim grew unsure about his future responsibilities. he had never really wanted a crown, only dreaming of the russian throne if it meant he could remain with his family forever. he doesn’t believe himself worthy of it in any way, certainly not good enough to stand at victoria’s side as her consort. he was a warrior at his core, an honourable one, but that made it no less true that his mind was not made for negotiating at high tables. maks doesn’t want to be any kind of king, but he wants to be with victoria. it is that undying need to make her happy and keep her safe, to do anything she asks of him, that has kept him by her side. even if it means making himself a reluctant ruler. this was only solidified by the attempt on her life during the pirates invasion of bern, an assassination attempt on the newly named heir to the throne. almost losing her was all the confirmation he needed that he would never leave her side. and a good thing too, for the time between their marriage and coronation was shorter than they could ever have prepared for. during the final days of the summit, the now infamous explosions struck bern, leaving multiple casualties in its wake. one of which had been the king of england, making victoria the overnight queen. 

life was turned upside down once again with his arrival to versailles as the newly crowned consort of england. dmitri had resurfaced after years of them living with the belief that he was long dead. the romanov’s had come to terms with their loss, just barely piecing back together a heart that would always be missing a jagged piece. now maksim must struggle with the old and new parts of himself to reconcile with a man who wears his dima’s face but is not the brother he once knew. all whilst struggling with responsibilities he never asked for, and a wife who has lost more than she could ever deserve.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #53: Out (7/6/2018)

This is it, boys and girls. The “hiatus”, as we’ve called it for the last 364 days, is finally, finally, finally over... probably. Let’s cover the week that was, and look forward to the new era that could be.

This Week’s TØPics: 

“New” Music Discovery

The Last Message From Dema

The Return of WILD SPECULATION

Major News and Announcements:

On any other week, new music from Tyler Joseph would be the biggest news story. And... well, I mean, I guess it should be, so we’ll cover it first, but it really doesn’t feel like it. That’s really weird, isn’t it?

@ultrawafflehouse shared a unique piece of content with the world in the middle of the week. After a friend of a friend received an old Tyler Joseph mixtape from a local youth pastor trying to prove his street cred to the middle schoolers of suburban Ohio, Ultra discovered that two of the unnamed tracks were pieces of music that had never previously found their way onto the Internet. 

One of the unnamed tracks is a slick instrumental with elements of some of Tyler’s other early works like “Two” and “I Need Something To Kill Me” on full display: i.e., an extremely promising but unfinished arrangement from an extremely talented novice with no training or experience and a dozen better ideas than this that he decided to actually flesh out. Little wonder it, like presumably most of Tyler’s work, never made it to the general public.

The other track, however, actually sounds like a full song. Dubbed “Going Down” due to the phrase’s repetition in the hook, the track fits in perfect with the general No Phun Intended/Self-Titled sound; passionately-sung heart-on-sleeve lyrics supported by a simple piano arrangement with some basic hip-hop elements thrown in. I’ll be real: I was not blown away by this song. The writing in general, particularly on the hook, is low-energy, all over the place, and stretches the metaphors real thin. Tyler’s vocal delivery is at peak teenage whine, and his bars in the sole rap verse seem amateurish and out of breath. 

But I wasn’t expecting to love it- most of Tyler’s stuff pre-Self-Titled, and even some tracks on the first two albums, are clearly made by someone who has no real clue how to do the whole music thing. “Drown” and “Blasphemy” are the only truly great songs from No Phun Intended, and they were both repurposed later down the road when Tyler had a better idea what he was actually doing. I still think Tyler is a genius, but he was not born the songwriter and performer he had become by the time Fueled By Ramen signed him. I still appreciate tracks like these, but more as historical curiosities, stepping stones to what Twenty One Pilots would become with brief flashes of Tyler’s insightful introspection and genuine brilliance.

The biggest news of the week, as with last week’s update, was not new music, but updates from the world of Dema. To start, we got three updates from dmaorg.info on Sunday. The first was a gif of a creepy vulture slowly turning to camera. Not too much to derive from this one. There’s the iconography of vultures, aka the carrion feeders who consume the bodies of the dead left at real-world Towers of Silence. The vulture can be seen to “blink” with its thin transparent eyelid, aligning it with the fifth Closing Eye Lyric: “Nobody dreams when they blink.” This correlation is strengthened by the name of the gif itself: “i”.

The second post, another letter from Clancy, was much more intriguing. The letter contains some great prose, with Clancy describing how the bishops have robbed the denizens of Dema of their dreams using something referred to as “smearing” and pledging to not let them crush his hope. The references to nighttime and light connect it to the sixth Closing Eye Lyric, “remember the morning is when night is dead”. The image title of this update is “e_sr_eve_r.jpg” (”reverse” in reverse), and that’s reflected both the content of the letter and its organization- you can swap the order of the sentences, and it still makes perfect sense. But why this command to reverse? To what end? Hmm....

The answer to that comes in the third update, a simple smattering of yellow marks slipped out of chronological order in the middle of the list the list under the date of the band’s Grammy win. When laid over the Clancy letter, the markings for individual letters again spell out the word “trench”, which connects it to the audio clip from the previous Dema update, while the solid vertical lines highlight the phrase “We are banditos.” When you connect all these dots and reverse that audio, as several people had already discovered previously, it becomes pretty clear that Tyler is singing “We are banditos.” What does that mean? Well, hold your horses, kid, because the circled letters in the message spell out “end”. That looked like it might be it...

Until the gif that originally revealed the Dema site made its way back onto the main website. Many interpreted this to be the fulfillment of the last Closing Eye Lyric, “Now I just sit in silence,” due to the gif ending with the finale of the “Car Radio” music video, and a sign to the Clique to pay attention to the site if they weren’t already.

dmaorg.info finished its mission on Thursday with another rush of content. First, a photo of a vast desert with a single small figure possibly visible on the horizon. The image was simply titled “o_ut.jpg”. Not much else to say; once again, the big reveal was delivered to us by Clancy.

This letter is honestly the best fiction writing and world-building I’ve seen from Tyler yet, good enough to make me wonder if he’s been considering writing a Hunger Games-style YA series if this whole music career thing doesn’t pan out. Clancy lays out his plan to break out of Dema: since it will be impossible to sneak past the huge walls unnoticed, he plans to make a big commotion during the enclave’s biggest holiday, the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified, to distract the “watchers” and permit those from the “other side” to find a way in, then avoid being “smeared” by the bishops until the others can show him the way out. There are tons of great details and turns of phrase (”concrete coffin of a city”) and really cool moments (”They don’t control us” should sound way more cringey than it reads here.) They even snuck in a final hidden message message: following the dotted lines up the same number of rows as there are squares reveals one last “Wake up.”

The biggest takeaway from this letter, though, is how direct it is. It makes reference to it being “a year since the last convocation” and directly says that “by morning, everything will be different.” And, if you still didn’t get the message- *poof*. Within minutes of the Clique posting and dissecting these new posts, dmaorg.info was gone. They pulled the plug. The only evidence of the last few months of theorizing, speculating, and decoding will be on Reddit threads lost to the dust of time, as our thoughts become occupied with a whole different type of Twenty One Pilots content...

WILD SPECULATION:

As of the moment I’m writing this (7/6/18, 1 am PST), the band has not released any new music. I am not bopping to “Jumpsuit” right now. But something is totally happening within the next 12-24 hours. The only question is... what?

Well, I have zero information beyond the registration of the song titles “Nico and the Niners” and “Jumpsuit” and the implication that the songs will relate to this unfolding tale of Clancy and the Bishops of Dema. But I do have some theories/wishes.

First, I don’t think we’ll be getting a whole new album all at once. Twenty One Pilots ain’t Beyonce. They don’t have the clout (yet) for FBR to let them get away with dropping a full project with zero mainstream promo (also, there’s no other registered song titles, so nothing for at least a few weeks). I think that, in following the standard pop music tradition of the last few years, we’ll get two singles dropped on the first day (the aforementioned registered names), with a music video for one to tide us over, then a trickle of songs for two or three months before an album in time for the holidays. I suspect “Jumpsuit” to be the main radio-play single (I’m already picturing a prison break from Dema for the video), while “Nico” serves as the song for the fans that lays out more about this concept.

The thing that excites me most about the whole Dema idea is that, unlike the rather straightforward metaphor of Blurryface, the ARG content we’ve received so far has laid out an entire world populated with multiple named characters and concepts that we aren’t clear on just yet. Because of that, I think we might get quite a few songs (like, hopefully, “Nico”) that focus more on storytelling (and, also hopefully, killer soundscapes) than just affirming the importance of staying alive. I really hope “Nico” is, like, a nine-minute long rock/EDM opera that lays out all the different bishops’ plans and motivations while mashing genres in the classic TØP style. I really want to see Tyler and Josh push themselves artistically, and I think that what we’ve seen so far is really indicating that is the case.

A few more questions (and some speculation): 

What other songs are coming? “Trench”? “Heavy”? “Banditos”? “Wake Up”? “Coconut Sharks: Requiem”? (No clue, can’t wait to find out.)

What will the promo look like? Will the band bother to participate in local radio interviews anymore? (Depends on how early sales go, I think.) Will they do any long-form/in-depth sit downs? (Rooting for Zane Lowe, but also hoping a mag like Rolling Stone that’s willing to put artists in the hot seat puts Tyler on his toes and asks some of the difficult questions.)

What can we expect of tour? (I’m calling amphitheater followed by arena shows, just like with Blurryface and a lot of the bigger FBR acts. Praying for more live musicians and maybe some theatrical stuff with Dema.)

What will the album be called? Dema? Silence? Tower of Silence? Iris [remember that, holy crap]? Blurryface 2: Electric Boogaloo? Hard to say (Probably the first one, let’s be real).

Will it be successful? (Almost definitely not as much as Blurryface. We’ll have to see how hard they focus on the Dema concept or an alternative sound, since radio hates weird.) Will it be good? (Yes. I was unsure for a long time, but I’ve got a really good feeling now. A really, really good feeling.)

Community Spotlight:

This is technically cheating, but I am part of the community, so I’m gonna write about myself today. Forgive me.

Last year, on my 21st birthday, Twenty One Pilots posted a shut eye and some mirrored lyrics on their social media and then, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. I spent my whole twenty-first year of life without ‘em (the irony is not lost on me), which was weird considering how much they had inspired and impacted me throughout high school and college.

I did a lot of stuff when I was 21. I graduated college. I got a new job. I made friends. I lost friends. I got in fights. I learned to let go, but not soon enough to spare someone I cared about from unnecessary heartbreak. I turned corners in my mental health, only to run into new walls. I listened to a ton of music. I grew up.

Today, I turned 22. The irony of the absence of Twenty One Pilots aside, I’m so glad I had the chance to figure out who I was without this band by my side every step of the way. I learned that I could make it. And now I get to have them back while I continue to make it. How sick a birthday gift is that?

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[empressxmachina]

--Also on Wattpad--

Mouse Trap, pt. 2

“You found me. It’s only fair if I do the same.”

More mess drained from Lauren’s lips, staining her clothes through to her skin, yet her physical self didn’t feel as unclean as her mental state. She had dabbled in hacking jobs every now and then because money is money, after all. So, it was always a little more likely to come around back to her, a la karma. However, because of the supreme privacy under which she generally kept herself – encryptions, aliases, and locks galore – the idea that someone found her was impossible to put into words.

As a joke, they would’ve been concerning enough, but the handfuls of words on her monitor carried much weight within them. While Lauren got her gigs, she never pushed for people to come to her. She wanted offers and advertised, yes, but never strived for anyone directly. Word of mouth without a face to put it somehow did well for her. On top of that, with how reserved she was, engaging new relationships, platonic or otherwise, was never in mind.

Every sign pointed to supreme severity and only one nauseatingly fitting answer.

A shaky silence, only cut from more smoothie dribbles contacting the floor, endured for a few moments before the monitor spoke to her again, clearing out its first, discomforting message,

“Are you still there?”

Despite it yearning for her existence, Lauren had slight relief knowing that the mystery interlocutor wasn’t listening in through her multiple mics or peeping through her collection of cameras. But a glance at her desk showed her lattice-leaking glasses and her multipurpose watch still on the same connection as her computer, even though they didn’t have to be.

Her ways of apparently extra-planetary exploration were linked to her most private of personal pieces. Her presence was evident with them. Lauren’s eyes expanded. No wonder she was found. They… it… he found her. How long had she been detected?

Why come out of hiding now?

“Don’t bother hiding if you are,” the messenger dictated, practically reading Lauren’s mind, causing her to re-question her lack of being tapped with every word. “Besides the fact I know where you are, I’m not going to hurt you. It’d be such a shame to eradicate an aberration before knowing if it could bring me some use.”

Surprisingly, or probably not, the envoi’s assurance wasn’t very assuring. Along with being unsafe, it wasn’t very personifying, classifying Lauren as a number she’d throw around on a chart or something. Who was he to say how she lived her life? Though, if his visage was a mirror rather than a magnifier, then who was she to fight it and him?

He detailed, adding to the tension, “I just want to see what I’m dealing with here.” His particular word usage was concerning; however, learning why it was didn’t seem like a good idea. “Though, technically, that’s inaccurate.”

‘Huh?’ Lauren couldn’t help expressing some confusion, though silent in form. Her head cocked at the latter clarification, curious as to why such a seemingly sagacious source would admit fault.

She soon found out he hadn’t.

After a moment of stagnant staring, his sans-serif message popped off the screen, returning to a relatively standard state and the reappearance of her mouse cursor. Lauren stood in her puddle of punch, waiting for anything to occur within the dark void of her monitor for minutes, but nothing happened. Her pointer just floated in the center alone, just like she was.

For some reason, Lauren wasn’t committed to believing that. The crater on the other side of the river and all of its calamity were still being dealt with. It’s rather difficult to count the number of lost lives in a town when the said town was wiped off the map – literally written off by a pen. Knowing such damage came from so little, Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if anything else in the world had origins as outstanding, all the while holding regrets for being unable to believably explain why.

Believably. As valid as this was, what person in their right mind would willingly believe… this?

Could Lauren willingly walk away from it if she tried, now that she knows?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” a new message suddenly popped on the screen, lingering chillingly before being replaced by, “I just want to see the new source of potential with which I’ve been presented.”

Lauren attempted to rationalize, never having heard such a word blend that wasn’t physics-based. ‘“Source of potential?” Do… Does he mean me?’

The disembodied speaker answered that himself. “No, that’s not entirely accurate, either.” So, she was in the clear… except in the head. The repetition of extraneous considerations helped nothing. “What I want to do with you is hard to put to words,” he continued cryptically, still helping nothing, “but this shouldn’t be.”

Obviously, there was no reason for Lauren to know anything about this distant, dominant, puppet master messing with her. But if he was into puzzles, then she wouldn’t be surprised. The complications of her and him existing with their extreme magnitude difference were enough of a mystery of their own. What would be a few with her? As she imagined what he would throw at her next, he brought it to her on a silver platter, beginning with another message,

“After all, I…”

The use of an ellipsis was an unexpected sight. Lauren knew well enough that it implied there was more to be said, but to intentionally break up thought was both intriguing and sickening. To add to the now majority smoothie-based, growing sickness inside her, the screen, for the first time, replaced its total blackness with a vomit-like mosaic of colors and dark letterboxing.

So many hues were literally blocked together, resembling one of those sliding puzzles with the squares, to create a readable, movie-like image brought chaos to Lauren’s eyes. Thankfully, it was stagnant, but it still hurt more the longer she looked at it. Yet, in the face of the multiple times she looked away, she managed to catch something on the screen that made the fight of looking worth it.

The mouse cursor was now a magnifying glass, and it appeared to be as zoomed in as it could go.

‘Oh, no,’ Lauren internally griped, knowing fully well what he was pointing her to do.

What could he possibly have for her to see? She hadn’t a clue, but she had to find out. For all she knew, it was life or death.

As she took hold of her mouse and scrolled backward, seemingly meaningless blocks became pixels, shrinking, multiplying, and growing more variant. A black speckle turned into a square of blueberry yogurt. That azure became a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream. The new trifecta of hues transitioned into a chocolate drizzle that later ran into a cherry syrup sea. The waves of crimson didn’t seem to end as long as Lauren kept scrolling out. However, a contrast came to her when she happened to pan downward from a nervous twitch and collide with an ecru island.

The gradient seemed somewhat familiar at first glance, and it only got clearer as time went on, as she saw more and more with them.

She was met with splotches and tiny holes with which she was all too familiar. Straggly tendrils of darkness going every which way also came: some scattered but most collected in two copses. Deadened lily pads as lifeless as they were bland floating atop white, inert puddles enter the fray. Yet, the slight radiance of emerald within them was anything but. The green glow across everything was, indeed, everything. For a while, the other colors faded together, emulating watercolor more than oil or something similar. But the jumble of pigments eventually combined into something more.

Before she knew it, Lauren was looking in a mirror.

Of course, it wasn’t a real mirror. The webcam was still shielded and off, and to make the screen into fully reflective material in the blink of an eye was impossible. Though, the present presence of enormous omniscience behind an untouchable trellis beyond universal bounds combated all bounds of reality at the moment. Nonetheless, it was a mirror into the past in the form of an extraordinary, extraordinarily aerial photo. There, it displayed her glasses-donning self from that unexpected sighting from days ago in the middle of Mesa Metro, amid a mob in the same oversized, blue sweatshirt she was currently wearing and dirtying more, along with the rest of her overly casual, barely cohesive clothing looking up to the sky.

She never would’ve thought how, then with her haggardness, her eyes had actually met something else’s – his – in some way or another. Her seeing his sizable satellites through an unreachable matrix, sure, but not them looking back. It knocked her thought processes loose, so much so that it sent herself and her chair scraping toward the wall behind her, only to be complemented by a singular, new message printed within the upper strip of the letterboxing this time – the unmistakable, horridly literal cherry on top:

“I can see you just fine.”

[collapsedsquid]

Harris emerged as a writer with anarchist politics over the last decade, particularly in the New York milieus of Occupy Wall Street and The New Inquiry, though one can find his writing in this magazine and early issues of Jacobin as well. The window of possibility, the feeling of historical openness that was generated by the Occupy moment did not stay open. The halves of the anticapitalist left, embodied on the one hand by Harris’s anarchism and on the other by the emergent democratic socialism of Jacobin, became incompatible—a rupture to which Harris’s work feels like a partial response. You can actually watch this happen in real-time in a video of a 2011 panel at Bluestockings bookstore on the Lower East Side. The same day that thousands had rallied to defend the occupation against a police raid, anarchists Harris and Natasha Lennard squared off against socialists Jodi Dean, Doug Henwood, and Chris Maisano in a contentious exchange off of which one can read much of the substance of intra-left developments and conflicts of the last six years. Periodically, the camera pans around the packed bookstore, and a sharp eye can pick out a large number of prominent figures from New York’s left-wing world of letters.

The whole thing quickly takes on a generational tone. “The sitdown strike was invented decades ago by unionists,” says Maisano. “It wasn’t a bunch of kids running around the University of California writing stuff on the wall.” (Off to the left, Harris and Lennard roll their eyes and laugh.) The socialists propose workplace and student organization and campaigning for free higher education. Harris answers the socialists with a slogan from the 2009 University of California occupation: “A free university in a capitalist economy is like a reading room in a prison.” Henwood—a man in his sixties—mimes masturbation in response to Harris, at the time about 23 years old. One moment, though, stands out as particularly prescient. It’s a question from the audience. This isn’t going to last forever, the questioner points out. “What happens when the shouting ends?” He’s an older man, with an accent that seems to put him from the north of England. “What happens when the tumult and the shouting of the ecstatic moment dies? Who remains? Who maintains the continuity? Who draws the lesson?” Who draws the lesson—what a question for a school abolitionist.

[...]

While there are of course old and young anarchists and socialists alike, the political division that has reemerged over the last decade on the left still pivots on this question: what is the proper relationship to the past for those of us who want to make a new future?

The more traditional socialist left argues for continuity. We’ve been doing occupations since forever, Maisano said; let’s rebuild social democratic institutions like CUNY, Henwood said. Socialism may be embraced by the young now, but in this version it still looks and sounds like Bernie Sanders—still a project of recuperation as much as invention, resuming an effort interrupted by the neoliberal caesura. In some guises, such historical continuity is humbling and useful. In others, it’s boomer narcissism run amok, reducing every left-wing proposition from a young person to an opportunity to force the past into the present. “Don’t repeat my mistakes,” cries the old socialist to the new one. The result can be formally radical but quite often conservative in affect and mood, dabbling soberly in the farfetched notion that you can change the structure of society while everyone stays the same kind of people. This is one way of understanding why whiteness and masculinity continue to bedevil the socialist left, even in its committed antiracist and feminist quarters. A left that maintains a tether to a usable past is bound more tightly to the historical American nightmare. It can’t rush toward utopia, because it’s committed to engaging with people as they are and nudging them along.

The insurrectionary left, on the other hand, wants year zero. The power of the occupation, Lennard pointed out, is that when you step into it, you become someone else. The problem with becoming someone else, though, is that you’re disinherited from your history, so you can’t wield it effectively to understand the present or get ready for the future. It’s life in a permanent now, a condition reflected in anarchism’s traditional weakness when it comes to strategic calculation and engagement with state institutions—those durable blunt objects. What was predictable about Occupy’s destruction—in fact, what was predicted at Bluestockings that night—was for this reason hard to prepare for until it was already underway.

It is, in its way, a generational question. If you kill your parents, you won’t hear their warnings, and then you’ll eventually just become them by accident later on without realizing it. If you listen to them, you’ll become them on purpose. The question is how to become new and stay that way, how to be a stable point moving steadily from past into future without a neurotic relation to either—neither clinging nor leaping. This is the existential core of the strategic question on the left. It’s a question about growing up.

Ostensibly a book review but much more interesting in the description of the conflict between anarchists and democratic socialists, and a later bit about the political economy and possible capitalist crisis of an aged population.

[cynical665]

Sonic Adventure DX Retrospective

Sonic Adventure was Sega's way of brining their beloved Mascot into the 3rd Dimension. Since 1996 The Nintendo 64 was cleaning the floor of what it is to have great games with Super Mario 64 and Pilotwings 64. Sega was the first ever competitor in the 16-Bit Era against Nintendo with their Sega Genesis and Sonic The Hedgehog. 2D Games were now becoming Obsolete with consoles like the N64. Sega did try to make a 3D Sonic Game that was canceled called Sonic X-Treme. They canceled it because it was becoming more and more difficult to develop and even people like Yuji Naka, Head of Sonic Team, saying that it wouldn't be a good idea. They did try to put Sonic in 3D with the Sega Saturn with Sonic R and Sonic 3D Blast. But those two weren't seen a true 3D Sonic Games, along with that the Sega Saturn died out. But Sega wasn't down yet, with the Release of the Sega Dreamcast on 1999 and it's Launch Title, A True 3D Sonic Game, Sonic Adventure.

Sonic Adventure was seen as the First True 3D Sonic Game. The last Sonic Game was Sonic 3 & Knuckles in which you can play as 3 Characters, Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles 'Tails' Prower, and Knuckles the Echidna. Not only are they also playable here in Sonic Adventure, each with completely different Stories and Gameplay styles, but also 3 Extra Characters: Amy Rose, introduces in the Sega CD Exclusive Ad-on Game Sonic CD, Big the Cat, a Brand New character, and E-102 Gamma, A Robot created by Dr.Eggman within a Series called the E-Series. Everyone has their own different Gameplay style going from Highspeed Action, A Third Person Shooter, A Hot & Cold Gameplay, all the way to Fishing. In the beginning of the Game we can only play as Sonic, but as soon as we finish Sonic's Story we can play as all the Characters. Let's go back and see all the gameplay to see if the game still holds up. I'll be playing the Steam Port of Sonic Adventure, so it'll be Sonic Adventure DX Directors Cut Version. With that out of the way, let's see what the game has to offer, years later.

-Sonic

Sonic hasn't changed much ever since 2D Times. He still has his Highspeed action, maybe too Highspeed. Sometimes bugs and glitches will creep their way into Sonic's Levels due to him just being too fast for the game to handle. Even in the first level Emerald Coast there's a large loop before a segment where whales chase you, where a side of the path pulls you in and you fall through the floor. This is one of the major flaws the game has. Major Bugs are in the game, all of which I've experienced have negatively impacted me. However these Bugs only affected me in Levels like the mentioned Emerald Coast, Red Mountain, and The Final Egg. Obviously it's only those 3 Levels, but I'm not going to put it down because it's only those 3. Sonic's Gameplay, as mentioned, is Highspeed Action filled with Levels that have nice Transactions like in the Classic Games. What I mean by that is like each part of the Level is like an Act in the Old Games. For example, In Speed Highway: Act 1 is on top of Buildings under the Night Sky going from Road to Road, Act 2 is running down a Tall Building being chased by Police Robots, then Act 3 is the Moring of that same city with Traffic more active then ever. Most Levels are like this for Sonic, however not for the rest of the Characters. Others get Exclusive Levels or Experience small portions of other Levels. But why is Sonic running around Beaches, Mountains, Cities, And Final Egg's? Well this time Eggman has awakened a Beast called Chaos. Eggman is trying to get all the 7 Chaos Emeralds to make Chaos Perfect Chaos, and with that he'll take over the world. Pretty Simple Plot for The Story, so simple In fact they could've made a 2D Sonic Game with just Sonic's Story and Level's and it would be a pretty Solid Game. Through out the game we keep on fighting Chaos, in different forms because we keep failing to get the Chaos Emeralds. After Chaos becomes strong enough Eggman goes into his brand new Flying Ship called The Egg Carrier. Once we got on board the Egg Carrier we go through the actual ship with a level called The Sky Deck. Besides the Hilarious entrance into the Sky Deck there's not much wrong about this stage. Though Gravity & Platforming are a bit wonky here and don't normally work to your advantage, and the level will take some Trial and Error to get through. However I only went through this with the Jet Section where the Floor Crumbles down. The Camera just didn't want to move and I couldn't get out. After that we're inside the Ship, then we go outside. What was the point of that? Why did we go back outside? Why couldn't we just go around that same area we went inside the Sky Deck? What was the point of that Entire Level? Whatever, after we go outside Eggman sends out E-102 Gamma. We defeat him, then Amy says that we shouldn't actually kill Gamma. We follow then we fight Chaos again, Then we reach our Final Level, The Final Egg. This level is a perfect Final Level, challenging what you already know and your skills. After a really well designed Final Level we fight Sonic's Final Boss, The Egg Viper. Before this I had so many lives with Sonic, here the Egg Viper is filled with inconveniences. The Homing Attack just refuses to lock onto Eggman, Eggman's Attacks seem to always hit if you aren't constantly running. But finally, we've beaten Sonic's Story.

-Tails

Tails shares the same most of the same stages as Sonic. This brings up one major flaw in Sonic Adventure DX, The Main Trio: Sonic, Tails, & Knuckles Go through the same stages but with slightly different gameplay styles. The gameplay style for Tails is the same thing as Sonic 2, where you just follow Sonic. But instead of just following Sonic, you're racing him: Trying to get to the Goal first. The story itself is the same with Sonic, Stop Eggman. But this time Tails finally learns that Sonic isn't always going to be with him and becomes more brave, something that is definitely missing in modern games. What happened when Tails want a coward, yes He IS 8 Years Old but that doesn't mean anything. He's faced much more then literal Water walking up to him. He's faced Dr. Eggman in Space. This is something about Tails that just disappeared after Sonic Colors, for no real reason. But this is where everything started for Tails, in my eyes. One other thing is Repetition.

 ~Repetition

There's a Game Mode where we go on The Tornado, Tail's Plane, and we fight against the Egg Carrier. Since Sonic AND Tails are in the level, we have to do it twice. This level comes up twice and it's so boring.

Whatever, We race Sonic and at one point we're split apart from him. During that time Sonic defeats Chaos, and out of desperation Eggman fires a Giant Missle at the city. We defeat Eggman, as brave as Tails ever was, and we save the City. And that's the end of Tails' Story

-Knuckles

Knuckles is just chilling on Angel Island and Chaos appears out of the Master Emerald, a bunch of pieces broke flew away. Knuckles has a sort of Hot & Cold Gameplay style, The closer you get to a Master Emerald Piece the Louder the Radar (That's exclusive to Knuckles' Levels) and you do that through the some parts of Sonic's Stages that actually have platforming. This leads to something I really don't like about Sonic Adventure DX.

~Character Development

The Characters, except E-102 Gamma & Tails, Are so Bland! They're actual bricks, they have a personality for one half and they keep it for the rest of the game. Gamma and Tails are the only one who I feel actually evolves while everyone else stays the exact same. Sonic just wants to stop Eggman and doesn't really change, Knuckles is just a Moron and only pays attention to what's in front of him, & Big just wants his Frog back. However Amy grows as a Character slowly over time, while Tails and Gamma sorta just get their Personalities in a Single Thought. After, I think its the first or second stage, Knuckles Finds Eggman and chases after him. And since Eggman doesn't have an Emerald Piece Knuckles sorta just leaves him go, DESPITE Eggman having a Chaos Emerald and even showing Knuckles he has it. Knuckles is so Idiotic that he trusts Eggman when he pulls the Sonic 3 & Knuckles Plot and says Sonic is after the Master Emerald.

So we fight Sonic, then insanely Fight Chaos 4....AGAIN. Uggghhh, and we just fought Chaos 3 before this! Why? Other then this, nothing interesting happens in Knuckles Story. It feels like a Rushed Game Mode, but it doesn't make it Not Fun. It's still alright but it could be improved on.

-Amy

Amy Rose is just walking around Station Square and a Bird flies up to her with a Robot, E-100 Alpha, chasing the bird. Amy runs into a restaurant and the Robot leaves for no reason. After that we try to find that sweet Sonic Booty. We head over to Twinkle Park and play around in there. We get caught by E-100 Alpha and we're inside the end of the story, Well that Escalated Quickly. We get trapped and E-102 Gamma is sent to get the bird from us. Instead of giving it to Gamma, we give Gamma a Speech about how he should be good and stop Eggman instead of helping him. We're sent free, we get off the Egg Carrier, we get back on and we fight the Final Boss for Amy, Zero (E-100 Alpha). It seems like I just breezed by this, and it's not because it's 11:09 PM while I'm writing this, it's because of how short the stories become after Knuckles. Amy is just 3 Levels and then the Boss. Also there are no other bosses, just Alpha. Amy's Story just proves that they wanted the game to be longer, she doesn't even get any exclusive levels, just old ones with a robot chasing you.

~Useless Stories

After Knuckles The stories become obsolete and futile. Amy, Big, and E-102 Gamma (as much as I hate to say it for Gamma) are just there to pan out the time of the game. They, Themselves, have nothing wrong with them, It's their Gameplay Style just stretches the game out due to how Slow, Unfair, Unfinished, and Boring the Levels are. If they were optional to reach the final story I wouldn't care about them and push them aside, but the fact that they are "key" factors in the game's plot and NEED to be finished to reach the End is just asinine.

-Big

Big the Cat has nothing to do with the story, all we do when playing Big is fishing. We need to fish other fishes to weigh enough to even think if catching froggy. There's actually nothing, the closest to the plot is that Froggy ate a Chaos Emerald and we want him back. We also fight Chaos 6. I've never felt more lost and bored in a video game in my life.

-E-102 Gamma

E-102 Gamma is the Prototype Version of The Eggman and Tails' Levels in Sonic Adventure 2. E-102, In My Opinion, is the best Gameplay style for The Level Design. But what's the difference between E-102 and the others? Well, first if all, E-102 is a Third Person Shooter where you mark enemies and shoot them down. One major difference is that now we have a Time Limit, the more things we shoot, target, and combo the more time you get. This opens up opportunities where you can finish a stage Minutes over the Clock or just barely scrap through a boss. But who is E-102 Gamma? E-102 is one of Eggman's Creations, in a Series called the E-Series. There's E-100 Alpha, E-101 Beta, E-102 Gamma, E-103 Delta, E-104 Epsilon, and E-105 Zeta. All of these efforts were put into the complete product shown off in Sonic Hero's called E-123 Omega. It's a disappointment that E-102 Gamma never came back, but I feel like his story explains why he never came back. You see, his story is alot more 'Emotional' then the other stories, well as Emotional as a Sonic Game can be. But enough about that, let's go to the first stage. Strange, we're in the last story and we have a tutorial stage. Here it shows off The Clock Gimmick and how Gamma Controls. After that Eggman pins us against our Older Brother, E-101 Beta. Instead of having a Machine Gun for a hand he has..Cannons? I don't know what to call those. We beat Beta and here it shows how Cruel and Heartless Eggman is, Since we beat Beta, he has no use for him so he was going to just throw him away. Beta stands in front of him like a crying puppy and Eggman say's he'll be allowed, but only for parts. This shows that, since Beta was the first, that the other robots having feelings and free will to disobey Eggman. It's sorta like a little view on what Gamma's story is all about. After that we are on board the Egg Carrier, along with E-103 Delta, E-104 Epsilon, and E-105 Zeta. Eggman tells us to go find Froggy, the Frog Big the Cat has been chasing for so long. We go over to Emerald Coast, get to the Half Point of the Stage, Find Froggy, and Go Back on The Egg Carrier. Delta, Epsilon, and Zeta are arguing over who has the real Froggy and Eggman calls them all useless. Eggman comes across us and sees we have the real Froggy. After that everyone is captured by a beam of light. E-104 Epsilon looks at us, in like a "Oh, don't leave me way" in shows and other media, and disappears. Eggman tells us to go to Amy, captured in cage, We're forced through another door and see E-101 Beta being..repaired? But he lost, isn't he supposed to be dead? Well, it isn't answered. We go through the right room and see amy refusing to give the bird to us, the bird flies towards us and Gamma gets a grip on himself. But why there? The bird was right in front of him, why give upon your objective? Whatever, now we're sent to go an top of the Egg Carrier and fight Sonic. Once we defeat Sonic, Amy stops us and tells us to ditch Eggman to do good things: Like save the birds. Gamma realizes what the others are doing so we go off and try to "Rescue", killing the others, and stop Eggman's Plans. But why does Eggman want the Bird? It's never said why, does he just want them just because? Once we go off, we defeat Delta and Epsilon, so onwards we go back to the Egg Carrier to get E-105 Zeta. He's a lot more different here, instead of just being a Robot he's now an entire Machine, most likely powering the Egg Carrier. This one was Heart-Thrusting for me because no matter what I always came at the last 10 Seconds or Less. But it's pretty easy, just tense. But there it is, we've finished everyone off. Or have we? It's final boss time. Here, we are against the final one of the E-Series. E-101 Beta, but he isn't a Beta now. He's now E-101 mk ll, mk is known as Mark. This boss is pretty Mediocre, but the Music. OOOO The Music it's so good. The boss consists of Dodging mk II, waiting for him to charge right at you, then hitting you. But why can't we just spam shoot him? Well because he takes that bullet and tosses it away, this is the only boss you cannot spam, and 2 Minutes to fight him is a good amount of time. This. Boss. Is. Difficult. One of the few difficult bosses in the game infact, the best one I would say. But once we defeat E-101 mk II, he does what the rest do and blows up. With that, Gamma doesn't have a purpose anymore, so just like his brethren he blows up, all the birds are now free and that ends all the stories of Sonic Adventure DX.

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{SPOILERS}

This part of the Retrospective will talk about the final boss of Sonic Adventure DX, You have been warned.

-Super Sonic

The Final Story is about Chaos Betraying Eggman and Destroying the City of Station Square. The Spirit of the Last of the Echidna Tribe, Tikal, appears and tells us that we need the 7 Chaos Emeralds because it turns out that Chaos only used the Negative Energy of the Chaos Emeralds and We can use the Positive Energy. We turn into Super Sonic and Finish Off Perfect Chaos. The Gameplay of this is just going forward corridors of Water, boarded off by Destroyed Buildings. We run into him, dodging projectiles, and keeping our speed along with our rings. We do this with Good Music, Open Your Heart which is alright. It's short, It's sweet, and even if you don't like it's gone very quickly. We defeat Chaos and he goes up into the...Sky? With Tikal, and the City is saved, under Rubble and an Ocean of Water.

Does Sonic Adventure DX still hold up today? God No, not even Half of the Game is Great, it's Mediocre. But I grew up with this game, so for me I don't care how bad this game is I still love it. I'd only recommended this game if you want to pass the time. But to just play it for fun, I'd only play Sonic's, Knuckles, and E-102 Gamma's Story.