#and to grapple with some really bad shit I went through a few years ago got it tattooed on my wrist

[monarch-moon]

I know we still got, like....a few weeks of December left, but I went ahead and finished this up anyway. This year was a wonky one...it simultaneously felt like the worst year in some aspects and the best year in other aspects.

The bad: I wanna say until....April maybe, I was super lost with everything. I grappled with myself if this path as an artist, which I’ve been on since I was a kid, was even worth it all in the end? I had the confidence of a doorknob, and felt like everything I did was shit. I almost gave up art for good like...several times. I constantly fought the shame with myself and my art suffered for it. Not to mention, on the IRL side of things, I lost my dog, and I lost my cousin, so this year was super bad in regards to grieving on top of that.

The good: But there was a LOT of good. Around April was when I first got on medication, and that helped in stabilizing me so I could think about my path as an artist without waddling through thick fog. I spend the good middle part of the year truly giving thought to what I was doing, and around the last four months, I felt like I was finding answers within myself and coming to terms with it all, finally. I’m still working with it, but I feel like things are aligning more now. I also revisited a favorite game of mine 10 years ago, and it’s been great.

Not to mention, Hawk came to visit for six months, and my sister also visited a couple of times, and it was a BLAST. There were a lot of other things, but I’m not really one to indulge on my personal life details.

For now, I hope this year was as kind to you as possible, and if it wasn’t, I hope next year will be better for you. For all of us.

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[astraeass]

[3] start once again;

[cross-posted in ao3 • fem reader]

Previous chapter

pairing: levi ackerman/reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of death

words: 2379

Summary:

you are finally able to choose regiment, but were you actually ready for what it awaits you?

"Yes! Another down, I’m in a fever streak!" Nile cheered with a big proud green adorning his sharp features that you wished you could rip it off his face. While he was celebrating his 5th deep cut in a wood titan dummy's nape you stood behind him, standing on a wide tree branch burning holes on his back and apparently he felt it, because he turned instantly, searching for the person who was practically planning for his death and after a while, he met your deadly gaze. His serious scowl turned into a smirk

"What happens [L/N]? Are you mad that you aren’t fast enough? The girl that had natural talent with the 3DMG is falling behind isn’t it?" You exactly knew what is he trying to do by bickering like that, and you didn’t want to fall for it, but your short-tempered behavior didn’t help at all in this situation "Shut the fuck up, Dok" You said lowly, and decided to move on. Aiming your grapple hooks to the next tree and firing when you saw that the hook gripped it well, then you activated your gas mechanism to reel forward and repeat the motion with nearby trees and branches till you found an uncommonly titan dummy without it's nape ripped of.

With determination replacing your fumed expression, you aimed towards the neck, unleashing your sharp blades from the stealths of the boxes that were situated in your tights, firing the hooks and activating the gas, making you to move towards where you aimed, you tightened the already hard grip in your blades positioning them in you to hands in a way that with a simple push of your arms plus some strength would cut the foam nape with easy, and that’s how you did. After that, you aimed and fired into a tree near you and landed with grace onto the tree's branch "Nice, that’s my 7th today" you murmured, thinking that no one would hear you, but the clapping you hear not far away make you turn around we’re you thought you heard the sound instantly.

"Good work [Y/N], you’re improving so fast!" When you turned around, you weren’t surprised seeing Erwin standing there with a proud smile in his lips, he was the origin of the claps, still your eyes widened. Not because of the older blond witnessing what could be your best 'titan kill' so far, but noticing that not far behind him, was Instructor Duvalier with an unreadable expression "That wasn’t bad, [L/N-" he said with his usual monotone both, but pride bubbled in your chest, trying to stop the grin forming in your own lips. Claude being aware of this, scoffed and crossed his arms "But don’t let your pride get you, the real shit is much different form that fucked and overused wood"

"Uh... um, yeah sure! Thank you so much, sir" you stuttered and bowed in front of him as a thank, but you weren’t aware of your closeness to the border and when you bowed, you lost your equilibrium making you fall meters down "Shit!" you rapidly reacted, turning around while falling and aimed at the bottom of the branch you stood seconds ago and fired just in time, because you felt the soft grass barely touching your back "[Y/N], are you okay?!" You heard Erwin shouting and not after towering your floating form. You were sure he could see your widened eyes and heavy panting "Yeah..."

Instructor Duvalier came soon and deeply sighed when seeing your state "Still as dumb fuck as ever, [L/N], if it weren’t for your surprisingly sharp reflects, I’m pretty sure that would have left a nasty as fuck wound" he said, his tone angry, but you could clearly see how hard he was trying to contain his laugh when seeing your condition and you got flustered and blushed hard in embarrassment, unleashing the hooks and falling back into the grass, letting a quiet "oof" and closing your eyes while sighing "You worried me there, [Y/N]... we’re choosing out regiment in a few months and you can’t make those silly mistakes in the half of your training with the scouts!"

Erwin scolded you, and you sat in the grass, palms plain in the ground, resting your body on them and looking everywhere but him, the scene was even more hilarious for Claude. It looked exactly like a big brother angry for his little sister safety after she tripped herself with a little rock at the side of the read because she wasn’t been watching where she was running and the whole situation warmed Claude's heart making he shake his head in disbelief with himself, these kids - adult kids - were making his cold behavior melt and that annoyed him "C'mon cadets, training will be over soon and both of you worked hard already" your little discussion with Erwin ended up as soon as you both heard Claude's rough voice and obeyed his order immediately "Yes, sir!"

;;

"Hands upon your hearts!"

"Yes, sir!"

Weeks turned into months, those months into exactly three years and now you stood with your fellow companions in front of various superiors of the military regiment, today’s is the day you’ll be choosing your military branch, and you are totally sure of which one you will be ending up joining to. Quiet murmur started to form around you, talking about how not long ago your instructor announced the top 10 graduates in your division, making your chest swell in pride unconsciously remembering your high position.

"For every trainee graduating today, three paths now open before you" said Duvalier, positioning himself in front of you all, the same way he did for the first day you all joined the training corps, it has a nostalgic feeling and for an unknown reason you don’t want to discover at all, it made you really nervous "The Garrison Regiment, charged with reinforcing the Walls and protecting the territory within them" This path was the usual for anyone who didn’t reach a position on the top ten trainees, you didn’t risk you life like a suicidal, through yourself outside the walls for an assured and cruel death, eaten by horrendous monsters.

Such a dumb idea for crazy people, just like you "The Scout Regiment, those who venture beyond the Safety of the walls into Titan territory" you noticed how everyone around went stiff after hearing the name of scout regiment, even some of them making comments about what you were thinking about just mere seconds ago, and that made you deeply sigh, but it didn’t matter, right know, your goal is your main mission "Most of you hope for the relative comfort of the Military Police Regiment, but only the top ten graduates are given luxury to choose serving the King by controlling the crowds and protecting order"

You didn’t know a lot about the Military Police Regiment, you only saw them doing their duty when you were younger, but for what you just heard, it sounds like the most boring shit ever, however, that place of comfort and security didn’t sound that bad "I will now announce the top ten graduates..." Oh, that sounds interesting, your vision was turning blurry, almost falling sleep while stood the only thing keeping you up was that memory from when you actually fell asleep in front of Claude while he was explaining, you grimaced when remembering the punishment ‘not again' "Step forward when your name is called"

"Number ten, Anna Schulz" A tall brunette girl with short hair and bright emerald orbs stepped forward, she seemed surprised, pupils widening and a big grin covering her face "Number nine, Elias Meyer" the next stepped out with hesitation, his expression showing confusion, like not even knowing why he deserved the ninth place, but he closed his hazel eyes tightly and gulped "Number eight, Leon Schulz" a boy - that actually looked way older than you - cheered lowly, but that didn’t stop Duvalier to send him a deadly glare, making the redhead instantly stop and bow as an apology.

Minutes passed, nothing interesting happened anymore and you started to get sleepy once again, that was until you heard your name being shouted out loud making you jump and direct your gaze at the person who did so "A-Ah... yes, sir?" Focusing your gaze to everyone around you again, you could see their different types of emotions they were sending to you, some of them were about to burst out of laughter - one of them Mike - some others with looks of pity and worry for yourself and another people uninterested.

"Cadet [L/N], one of these days you’ll die assassinated and not by a titan..." You heard Instructor Duvalier murmuring, but you were not too far away, he then glared at you with a letal glaze that made you pale and gulp in an instant "You’re the fifth cadet in the top ten trainees you dumbass" You blinked for a second, that turned into more seconds, jaw wide open, but composing yourself, you took a step forward and nodded in affirmation "M-My apologies, sir! I was a tad.. distracted" Duvalier just clicked his tongue and preferred to ignore your still sleepy status, walking back to his place.

Wait.

I... I made it to the top 10?

In sudden realization your eyes went widened in surprise just seconds after Instructor Duvalier walked away, you were beyond joyful, you thought you barely even grazed Anna, the tenth graduate. Unfortunately, you couldn’t demonstrate your happy self since everyone is in silence and tense waiting if their names are going to be mentioned, also if you started to jump and scream of excitement Claude wouldn’t take that well at all, less after he saw you almost sleeping - again - you barely payed attention to the next name, Marie, the only thought coming to your mind about the name was that girl Nile and Erwin had a crush on, or was that you guessed.

"Number three, Nile Dok" Your content stopped immediately ready to hit Nile if he planned to say anything stupid about how he stronger than you and shit like that. But it never came. Instead he looked kind of mad and about to snap, confusing you but then you remembered his rank and also his usual competition with a certain bright blond and connects all of the pieces. As far as you know, Erwin's name hasn’t been said, you couldn’t comment about it though since you were barely conscious of your surroundings mere minutes ago, however Nile's rea-

"Number two, Erwin Smith" Ah... there he is. The hour golden boy and reason why Nile is sending an infuriating look towards Erwin, the sigh is pretty amusing to you and would burst out of laugh if it wasn’t that Instructor Duvalier was glaring all of you like a hawk right now. So you just limited yourself to hold your chuckle down instead of risking your body to be used as titan bait while waiting for Claude to finish, you pretty much knew who left thought.

"And our top-ranking graduate, Mike Zacharias!" The dirty blond limited and only sent a smirk, like he knew he would reach up this point and step towards where everyone mentioned else were standing, you couldn’t do more but wait until Instructor Duvalier finished "That is the top ten. However, these results are based on scores during training..." Claude continued and started to approach all of us, more specifically between me and the sixth graduate that you noticed as the beautiful cold-headed Mary Suhc.

"Whether you can put your skills to use in an actual battle is another matter altogether. Those of you who didn’t rank should think long and hard..." Your instructor continued to walk towards, now meeting the glares of the rest of cadets that couldn’t make it to the top ten and you sighed in comfort, finally free of his deadly look "What can you do? What should you try to achieve?" Claude turned back to his spot in front of all of us, facing the large group with determination filling and hope filling his eyes.

"Tomorrow you’ll be asked which regiment you'd like to be assigned to!"

;;

You totally expected this.

Barely a small fraction of your division stood with you, in front of the Survey Corps Commander, Keith Shadis who just finished his discourse that was full of how dread, literally how few of us will survive our first expedition and that small amount wouldn’t probably last long neither, you also expected this type of warm welcome that you’ll forget after the first days of even harder training. The Commander had a look of understanding when most of the graduates walked away, but you couldn’t miss the slight ambience of disappointment surrounding him.

Other thing you did not miss was the light hope he had on his eyes, looking at how five of the ten top graduates decided to stay and recomposed himself, coughing with the intention of continuing "I welcome everyone here to the Survey Corps, this is a true salute. Offer up your hearts!" Keith said out loud with passion adorning his rough voice, sending a salute to all of you. Coping his gesture, the rest standing with saluted back shouting the familiar words as an answer, all of this made the Commander puff out his chest in proudness, not letting it show at all though.

"All of you have my utterly respect, let’s fight for humanity all together!"

Yes, this scenario was exactly what you recreated in your mind yesterday when you decided to join the scouts.

But you weren’t ready for what it came next.

You weren’t ready to see the Titans that close up in your first expedition, their hungry glare and awful aspect that almost made you stop in your tracks.

You weren’t ready to be the one last to see Mary alive, and stare at how her small body was devoured by these creatures without doing anything, you weren’t able to help, glued on your spot thanks to the fear running through your veins.

You weren’t ready to be one of the few people who remained alive of your assigned squad.

So this was survivors guilt, huh?

Next Chapter

[ragingbookdragon]

Forging Paths Final Part

Batsis Story!

A/N: First and foremost, I apologize to the people who follow me because I just spammed the everliving fuck outta y’all and I’m so sorry. Secondly, here’s the last part! -Thorne <3

Set two years after Part 6.

(Y/N)'s body cried as she shoved open her window and dropped inside her apartment. She lay on the floor and groaned when the stinging sensation came back to her shoulder. I really need to get that sewed up. She thought as she began pulling herself off the floor. She hobbled into the bathroom, passing her nightstand and making a mental note to check her answering machine when she was finished. Layer by layer, she peeled off her uniform, which clung to her sweaty skin. Once her body hit the cold air, she moaned in relief. I love L.A., but I also hate L.A. Why the hell did I choose someplace that's 72˚, in the summer, at night? She shook her head and pulled out the first aid kit under her sink and began disinfecting the cut on her shoulder. Carefully, she stitched it back up and cleaned it once more before taking some aspirin and hopping in the shower. Wrapped in her bath towel, (Y/N) moved to her bedroom and walked to the dresser, pulling out some underclothes and a T-shirt. Slipping them on, she toweled her hair as she sat on the edge of her bed and hit the button to the answering machine. The machine spat out the usual: You have one new message, Friday 7:49 P.M. The voice that came out was one she was certainly not expecting.

"Hi (Y/N)? It's me, Selina Kyle. I...uh...Catwoman, if you don't remember." She snorted at Selina's awkward sounding message. "I was just calling to let you know about my engagement...to your father...Bruce." (Y/N)'s eyes went saucer wide and her jaw hit the floor. He's getting married? Big man that dresses in a Bat costume and hides all his emotions? Him? He's getting married? She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Selina's voice continued on the machine. "Look, I know, well actually I don't know, because I wasn't there, but that's not important. Anyway, I know you and your dad don't speak, at all, but I wanted you to know about us and I was hoping that maybe you would come? I know it's a stupid request, but when I tell you that everything you said to him weighs on his heart, I'm not lying. Your dad is weak, (Y/N). He is a weak man who misses his daughter and wants to make things right between you two, even if he's a damn fool who has no clue how to go about it. I know it's asking a lot, but I hope you'll come back for a while. If not, I understand. I wish you all the best in the world (Y/N). Goodbye." The message ended and (Y/N) sat on her bed in bewildered disbelief. There's absolutely no way he wants to see me, not after everything I said, after everything we said. She thought. But the more she thought about it, the more believable Selina's message sounded. She rose off her bed and began pacing around her room. Then, she stopped. Don't do it. She told herself. Don't do it, he doesn't want to see you. She brushed away her thoughts and groaned pulling a small suitcase from her closet and setting it on the bed. Reaching for her phone she dialed a number and waited, the person picking up after a few rings.

"Heyyy, Uncle Oliver. It's (Y/N)." (Y/N) looked at the answering machine once more and peered at it through narrowed eyes. "I'm gonna need a favor...."

If there was one thing she loved about summer in Gotham, it was the fact that it stayed in the mid 40's all night. The cool breeze felt nice on her skin as she drove around the city. Nothing had changed enough to be notice, but the drive was still nostalgic. Passing the high skyscrapers, she drove along the bridge that led to Wayne Enterprises. Parking her bike near the side, she pulled out her grappling gun and shot up to the top. Her hand gripped the top ledge and she pulled herself up and on it, reclining back and staring out into the city. Had you asked her two years ago what she thought of Gotham, you would have gotten the reply, "hell-hole." But looking at it now, she affectionately referred to it as a, "pretty hell-hole" (with a beautiful night-scene). She looked out into the night and watched the subways glide through the station, as night workers filed in to go home. She could see the clock-tower in the distance, a hideaway Barbara stayed in when she was too busy to get to the Batcave. No, she didn't truly hate the city anymore. It was bad memories that tainted it for her. She stayed silent for a few moments before speaking. "How'd you know I was in Gotham?" She glanced over her shoulder and watched as he walked forward. He stopped and sat beside her, removing the cowl before replying.

"I know everyone who comes in and out of my city." She rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh.

"Of course you do." His eyes crinkled just a little and he stared at her.

"Why are you back?" She raised an eyebrow at the question that sounded more like a suspicious accusation.

"Why are you so concerned about it?" He drew back slightly, tripping over his words.

"I...uh...I'm not...I'm not concerned about it. I just...hmm." She looked at him as he stumbled clumsily over his explanation, and her eyebrows drew together in humor. She reached over and nudged his shoulder.

"Relax. I'm just kidding." His mouth formed a small smile and he exhaled. "I heard from a certain Cat that she and a certain Bat were tying the knot." He looked at her, shock evident on his face. Well it's obvious she didn't tell him about her phone call to me. "She mentioned that she wanted me to come. And well, I think you and I need to have a heart-to-heart conversation that doesn't involve us screaming at one another." It was rare for (Y/N) to speak this way to Bruce, but if he really wanted to fix things, she was going to have to take the first step. She opened her mouth to speak when he rose.

"Wait right here for a moment. I'll be right back." He sauntered off, leaving (Y/N) confused.

"Uh, okay. Sure, I'll wait right here."

He returned shortly after with a bottle in one hand and two crystal glasses in another. Her face morphed into shock when she saw the bottle.

"Is that, The Macallan M Whiskey?" He nodded his head a smirk playing his lips, as he poured two glasses.

"Yes, yes it is." He handed her one of the glasses, taking the other himself.

"Dude, you know this shit sells for like 630 G's right? We could make a hella ton of money if we sold it." Bruce started laughing at that, and it shocked her. It had been so long since he'd laughed in front of her that she had forgotten he even could.

"(Y/N) you do remember that I'm a multi-billionaire, right?" Her face morphed into realization as she mumbled a quiet, 'oh yeah, I forgot about that.'

"So why are we drinking super expensive whiskey?" He placed his glass down beside him and he drew his hands together, glancing out into the city.

"When I was fifteen years old, I went exploring into the other parts of the manor I hadn't ever looked in. One of those parts being the cellar where we stored our liquor. I found a letter my father had written and stuck to the bottle." His face dropped and for a split second, (Y/N) thought her father looked so much older than he should have. He cleared his throat and continued. "The letter was addressed to me, telling me that I was to open this bottle when I hit a major accomplishment in my life." He looked at (Y/N) and the sincerity in his gaze made her chest tighten. "I should've opened it the day you were born. In fact, I should've opened it the day you left for L.A." She looked at her lap.

"Why?" He continued to stare at her.

"Because of the woman my daughter grew up to be." Tears blurred (Y/N)'s vision and she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Looking up at him, he wore a heart-wrenching smile, and his eyes were sad. "You were right about it all (Y/N). I never raised you like I should've. I put too much pressure on you setting the bar so high, thinking it would help, that instead of helping, it damaged you. I wasn't there for you like I should've been when you were younger, and if I could go back in time, I would spend every moment of free time I had, taking care of my beautiful baby-girl." (Y/N) brought her hands up to her face and covered it, as muffled sobs came out of her mouth. Taking a risk, Bruce reached out and put his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and placed a hand to the side of her head. His head rested on her shoulder and she felt her jacket begin to go damp. "You were right when you called me a poor excuse for a father. I am so sorry (Y/N), for everything. I'm so sorry I wasn't the father you deserved or needed. I'm sorry I made you resent everything you grew up with. I'm sorry that no matter how much I apologize, it won't ever be enough. Because no words or actions could ever fix what I've broken. I'm so...I'm so-.." His voice cut off as ragged sobs cut through his chest, but he just kept mumbling the words 'I'm so sorry'. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her face in his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around her. When was the time dad hugged me? She thought. She couldn't remember, but it was sorely overdue. They stayed that way for a long while, a broken father holding his broken daughter, and cried.

After some time, they eventually pulled away and began wiping their faces. Everything was fine until, "Ugh gross! You snotted all over my shoulder!" (Y/N) took one look at her father pointing to his snot covered shoulder and broke into hysteric laughing; Bruce joining in, but still had a disgusted look on his face. (Y/N)'s stomach hurt she was laughing so hard, and tears rolled down her cheeks, and she let out an airy, 'I'm sorry'. Bruce just waved it off and kept laughing, tears rolling down his cheeks too. After their laughter died down, they wiped their eyes once more, and then picked up their glasses. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but (Y/N) motioned for him to wait. He nodded at her. She sat up straight and faced him.

"Look, I know a bottle of whiskey and one boo-hoo fest isn't going to repair everything that's happened between us." Bruce looked down into his glass, until a hand gripped his own, causing him to look up at (Y/N), who wore peaceful expression. "But, I'm certainly willing to try." She reached out her glass and looked at him. "What do you say...Dad?" Bruce's eyes began to feel warm, and he reached up and wiped them before moving his glass to hers. He looked at her and clinked it.

"I think that's a fine idea...Daughter." They shared a smile and knocked back their glasses, staring out into city. It was peaceful for a moment before she leaned over and spoke.

"So, just out of curiosity, if I move back to Gotham, can I keep patrolling like I'm living back in L.A.?" She heard a strong grunt beside her.

"No."

"Meh. Thought I'd ask anyway." They both broke into laughter again, pouring each other another glass.

The summer nights in Gotham weren't exactly cold, just enough to wear a jacket for a little warmth. But as (Y/N) and Bruce sat on the ledge of Wayne Enterprises drinking whiskey and cracking jokes,

It was all the warmth they needed.

[gffa]

Hi!  First off, don’t worry about being rude or poking at me a bit over this, I’m still grappling a bit with being ready to talk about being aromatic (mostly in terms of that it takes me awhile to figure this stuff out in a way that I feel truly settled on) and I think there are probably more aro people than we realize, it’s just hard for some to figure themselves out, especially in fandom culture, where shipping/romance is such a huge part of it. I think that probably made me take a lot longer on my journey, because I love shipping so much, I love characters being in love, so obviously I’m not against the concept of romantic love, which meant that the idea of being aro didn’t really sink in for a very long time.  I thought maybe I was just demi and hadn’t met the person I was in love with yet. But I really just don’t feel any lack for not wanting romantic love for myself.  And that gravitates me towards characters who are on the ace/aro spectrum (I had such a moment of clarity like OH that’s why I like Tolkien’s Elves so much, they spend like 99% of their lives as ace and I was like #MOOD even before I realized it)(asexual/ace and aromantic/aro are separate things, but as someone who is somewhere on the spectrum for both, I take what I can get where I can get it). So, I’m assuming that some of us came onto the idea and view of the Jedi as an aromantic culture separately for separate reasons, some of us are aro ourselves, some of us just see that in the Jedi culture, but for me it really started coming together about nine months or so ago because I remember this post coming on the heels of me just starting to be ready to talk about being aro myself and navel gazing about why that drew me to the Jedi in such a resonating way. And the more I think about it, the more it really, really resonates for me, as someone who prizes other connections--family and friends and projects are so fulfilling to me, in a way that romance just exhausts me, it doesn’t charge me up at all.  Seeing a group of fictional characters that prizes those same things, who don’t seem interested or lacking because they don’t seek out romance, who enjoy their connection to this big energy field and the light of the people around them, as somewhere in the nebulous area of family that’s not defined by traditional blood family structure?  It resonated a lot with me and made me feel finally seen even in just a small way. Romance and shipping characters aren’t bad, fandom is a place where people come to it for fun and to enjoy what they enjoy.  I clearly love shipping, I have my OTPs and I’m constantly thinking about them smooching, it’s not like I’m trying to shoo it away from my precious aro babies.  Instead it’s that I want some space to enjoy one of the incredibly few cultures in media that I can feel connected to through this lens and would like to encourage people to step a bit away from the “romance is a fundamental part of the human condition” mindset because it’s not. Being human can come in so many, many forms and they’re all genuinely just as valuable.  That Obi-Wan chooses the Jedi over romance, that the narrative approves of his and Satine’s choices, that they loved each other, but found more value in other things.  That Mace Windu is a sympathetic, empathetic character who has never expressed a need for romantic love in canon.  That Ahsoka may have genuinely liked Lux romantically or she may have had tangly feelings for someone who resonated with her psychic abilities that we don’t really have a box for other than romance because that’s what we’re used to and she went on to not really be that interested in romance, even when Kaeden was practically all over her, Ahsoka wasn’t really thinking about that or feeling like a piece of her was missing because of it.  That Yoda has lived almost 900 years and never actually needed a girlfriend because he has so much other stuff to connect him to his people. That Plo Koon and Luminara Unduli and Aayla Secura and Shaak Ti and Agen Kolar and Ki-Adi-Mundi and Depa Billaba and Adi Gallia and Even Piell and Kit Fisto and so many more don’t need to have romance to make them human, to make them empathizable, to make their stories worth being told. Yeah, some Jedi do have romantic feelings, but even then (with the exception of Anakin) they tend to put their duty before their own feelings first and are fulfilled by this, it’s a choice they are satisfied with making.  Or else they leave because that’s not the choice they wanted to make, and that’s fine, too. But the majority of the Jedi we see are ones that resonate on an aro spectrum for me, that the culture of the Jedi that prioritizes purpose before feelings, that puts adopted family feelings before romantic feelings, that finds fulfillment in these things, is pretty wonderful. That the Jedi express love and care in ways that aren’t inherently romantic--touches to the shoulder are constant, that Obi-Wan shows his care by telling Anakin he’s proud of him or showing up to talk if Anakin’s ready for it, that Mace and Yoda share these hilarious looks of people who have been through some shit together, that Luminara smiles so brightly to see Barriss alive, that literally almost every single Jedi Master would lay down their lives to save their Padawan, that we see that with Depa dying to save Caleb, that we saw that with Jaro Tapal dying to save Cal, that we heard the echoes of another Master dying to save their Padawan in JFO’s Sense Echoes, that Yoda constantly makes time to talk to anyone who comes to see him, that literally every Jedi we see is practically jumping at the chance to help Ahsoka with her lessons or help teach her something she needs, that these are forms of love being explicitly expressed through these gestures and they’re wonderful.

[justal0wk3yg4mer]

Things I’ve Said: Thief 2014 (Some Spoilers)

My words                                                                                                                  *Player/My actions*                                                                                                  Character dialogue

Nice title screen. Very dark and foreboding. 

*Reads a tip* Oh goodie, I get to be a peeping tom.

I like Garrett, he’s sassy. And hot damn that voice.

Y’all laying on the eyeshadow thick. Like, raccoon thick.

See Garrett has good morals, if necessary kill, if not necessary don’t kill. Erin WTF is your deal?

Now see, I think that was a bad idea. If she relies on that thing so much you are just gonna screw her over if there is a need for an escape.

Don’t tell her that, she has an inferiority complex.

Thank you! Robes ARE sketchy.

*Gets my rating back* I am a GHOST!!!!!!!!

Wait we like birds? I thought we avoided birds cause they’re snitches.

Oh shit, a year?! I thought maybe a few months, but a year! Damn, their just dragging this place through the mud turtle speed.

Old blind people always know what’s up and are cryptic about it.

You want coffee? No honey, what you need is a good ol’ knockout. Don’t worry, I’ll hook you up. 

This creep is gonna shot you. He’s the bad guy, he’s gonna-...........or maybe not? That’s it? Mentally scar the dude? Not very evil of you-*Thief-Taker General kills the man*-and there it is. Told you he’d shoot you.

*Listens to a conversation* Oh, only the wealthy can get cock rings? Good to know. *Listens for a few more minutes* And somehow this conversation got worse.

Is that a..............! It is! Finally, a plague mask! I was wondering when I would see one of these.

So, either the proportions on that woman are wrong, or she’s got a fatass.

*Meets Orion* Nope. Don’t like you and don’t trust you. I don’t care that you are ‘helping’ people, something is wrong with you.

You want Garrett to steal a book? That is the first thing you have said that actually interests me.

*Me thinking I can jump over a large gap like in Assassin’s Creed*              *Garrett Dies*                                                                                                 Fuck 

Brilliant, blood makes a sound.

Yo, fuck this. I did not sign-up to go to the upside down. And why does Erin sound mad?

*Garrett touches a painting oddly* Huh, guess Garrett is an ass man.

Erin is related to the Baron, calling it. *Chapter 3 memories play* Damn it. But you know what, good for her!

OMG! Is that a drag queen!? Yas bitch, tell his crusty, creepy ass off!  

I knew one of these holes would lead to a sex scene.

Thief-Taker General: Punish me mommy, I’ve been bad.                        Eeewwwwwwwwww. I didn’t need to hear that.

How much freaky cult BS is in this town?

Orion: You can’t just walk in the front doors.                                           No kidding? Damn, how else is a thief going to enter a building without using the front doors?

Why the fuck are people panicking? I haven’t done anything.

*Listens to a conversation* 4 to 5 days? I’m pretty sure the architect is dead. *Enters the architect’s study* Called it.

*Garrett falls and lands in front of several Nightwatchmen*               Garrett: Good Evening.                                                                                That’s kinda funny.

VIVA REVOLUTION!!!!!!!

Don’t you do it. Garrett no. We are getting Basso and getting the fuck out of here, you hear me!                                                                                    Garrett: It’s who I am.                                                                                    ITs wHO i aM

You fucker, I knew you were gonna be here. *Referring to the thief-taker general*

Oh great, I’m going from the crazies of the streets to the crazies on a fucking island. (BTW Garrett said almost the exact same thing right after I said this and I screamed. Thanks unreal.)

*Reads a tip* First of all, what the fuck are freaks? And second, freaks do what now?

Please don’t let this be a Victorian style Outlast.

*Door slams shut behind me*                                                                         Fuck.                                                                                                            *Doors are suddenly barracked behind me*                                                  FFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!

Oh fuck, it’s the bonies! (Warms Bodies anyone?)

Orion did what to you? See, that is a red flag for me. I don’t like that, something is up with that guy.

He’s the Baron’s brother? Has to be the youngest, and I stress the young bit, brother. And of course he’s crazy, I knew he was suspicious! 

Why is it, whenever I get out of a major cutscene, 95% of the time I get force pushed? Like, I just watched a memory and now I’m in danger. That is oddly common in Garrett’s life, watch, next someone is going to be waiting for him on the ledge.                                                                          *Enter thief-taker general and his stupid rant*                                              You motherf*cker! I knew that shit was gonna happen, but I didn’t want you!

A hand for a leg, and a leg for a hand. Not how it goes but this game makes it work.

Fuck the graven. Who decided that burning the bridge was a good idea? Yeah, let’s destroy a major bridge that could have brought over supplies or let people come and go as they please. Fucking dumbasses.

BBQ anyone?                                                                                                *Few seconds later a person burning falls over*                                          Like I said, BBQ anyone?

Damn, I can’t swim across this little area? This is gonna be like Altair all over again.

Beggar Queen got more sneak game than Garrett. At least he didn’t jump. *She leaves* Correction, Queen’s sneak game is over 9000.

Ah yes, the final mission. It’s dark, it’s raining, and lighting flashes over a worn-down cathedral. I fucking love it.

Gaming logic. Fires are still burning when it is pouring down rain. And I have to shoot a WATER arrow to put the fires out. Genius.

My dude, you grapple?

These flowers were really pretty at first. Now, they just give me the willies. I’ll probably turn a corner and see a bonie. *Does exactly that* Fuck my life.

What the fu-No wait, why am I surprised? It’s more cult BS.

Oh no, she screamed and force pushed everyone, run away!

*Thief-Taker General enters for a final battle* Fuck off! You are the most stereotypical villain ever.

Well when you say it like that, all you ever wanted to do was murder Garrett. Not see him hang, there is a difference.

FINISH HIM! (If you didn’t read that with the Mortal Kombat voice, you’re wrong)

Garrett: I’m not alone down here.                                                             Yeah no shit. Wanna say that a little louder to let the bonies know as well?

Oh God, Orion has daddy issues.

Erin, WTF? Garrett literally said not two minutes ago that he wanted you. Not the primal.

Erin quit it, you’re scaring me. That ‘secret’ better not be some BS like “BTW you’re my dad.”

Erin: Garrett! I’m slipping!                                                                          Fuck you game, I already went through this.

And the darkness finally leads to dawn. Good job Garrett, you and the city live to see another night.

Ladies and gentlemen this weeks tally was lovingly name after how many time my dumbass said this. I give you:

Oh Pretty!: 168                                                                                

[cdelphiki]

Gotham was trashed. 

Jason was pretty lucky.  He realized what was going on fairly quickly and was able to avoid all screens.  

No one else in the Iceberg Lounge did, however, before he cut the power.  So Jason took Dog and started clearing the building as best he could.  In the end, he only got his office secured before Alfred called.  

And once Alfred called on the radio, Jason had a-whole-nother directive.  He found an abandoned truck on the street and loaded Dog up to head to the cave.  

It took hours.  

Hours of running people over and trying to find alternate routes when too many cars were abandoned and blocking the road.  

But he finally made it to the cave and helped Alfred load boxes upon boxes of supplies into the bed of the truck. 

“The Justice League is using the Daily Planet as a safehouse,” Alfred said, as he pointed to which boxes needed to come with them, “It would be in our best interest to go there.”

One week ago, those words would have filled Jason with dread.  Having to spend any time around Superman or any of the other goody-goodies of the league would have made him contemplate turning himself into Arkham.

Well, that’s a tad dramatic.  But he’d definitely consider punching one of the little batbrats or something, out of hopes that would fall him out of whatever graces brought him to such a horrible predicament.    

But that was one week ago.

Today, Jason had had to kill dozens of his own men, then dozens, if not over a hundred of random civilians.  

People who had done nothing wrong.  Who were victims of a horrible plague.  Innocent men, women, and children.  

God, the children.

And Alfred had to put down his own son and grandsons.  Jason’s… his something.  Family.

Any grudges held a week ago were forgiven, Jason supposed.  In the wake of the apocalypse, talks of the Joker and Penguin seemed frivolous.  

In the realization that he, Alfred, and Damian were the only bats left, everything seemed frivolous.   

Because right now there was a 14-year-old boy who just lost everyone.  

“How’s the kid holding up?” Jason asked, after he’d found Alfred the cat and put him in a carrier in the cab of the truck. 

“I have not spoken to him, I’m afraid,” Alfred the human said, while he fastened Titus into the backseat.  Jason had never once used a seat belt with Dog, but he figured it was probably actually not a bad idea.  Alfred fastened Dog in, as well, and somehow the two massive dogs managed to look at least a little comfortable in the backseat of the pickup.

“He’s a strong kid,” Jason said, staring the truck to head toward Metropolis.  

“You would be surprised at how much of that is merely a facade,” Alfred said, allowing the cab to turn to silence.

The dogs napped in the back while Jason flipped through the radio stations, trying to find one that was still broadcasting something other than the same Justice League emergency alert, warning everyone not to use screens and to ‘shelter in place’ until further instructions were given.  

Frustrated, Jason punched the radio off and resigned himself to a torturous drive to Metropolis in silence. 

But Alfred saved the day, and produced A Tale of Two Cities on CD, so the eight hour drive to Metropolis, only that long due to the horrid state of the roads, wasn’t all bad.

Red Tornado was guarding the entrance to the Daily Planet’s parking garage.  Even without identifying himself, Red let them right in.  Apparently Clark had called ahead.

Weird day. Clark Kent vouching for him.  

“Alfred,” Clark said, when he appeared beside the passenger door as soon as they parked and got out, “Thank God you’re okay.”

When Clark wrapped Alfred up in a hug, Alfred said, “Master Kent… it is good to see you, as well.  Thank you for caring for Master Damian.”

Clark squeezed a little more, then let go.  “He’s on the roof, Jason,” Clark said, as if Jason would want to immediately go see him or something, then turned back to Alfred and asked, “Where does this stuff need to go?”

“Bruce sent over everything needed to set up a radio system independent of everything already live,” Alfred said, “That is the bulk of the boxes in the back.”

Jason put both the dogs on leashes and let them hop out, aware that he needed to find them a place to… do their business.  They had stopped a few hours back, when they were far enough away from civilization that he felt comfortable doing so, but that had still been a while ago.

Getting them water would probably be good, too.  And the cat, of course.  Which had not been a fan of the leash Jason forced on him to allow him to stretch a little, too.

But before Jason could do anything with the cat, Clark had wooshed him away with everything else in the truck.

“Where’d you put Alfred?” Jason demanded, as soon as Clark returned, “he needs a chance to stretch.”

“I put him in your’s and Damian’s room,” Clark said, as if that were a casual statement.

His and Damian’s room.  

Hah. 

Like Damian would allow that.  

Jason wasn’t really sure he wanted to allow that, either.  While he knew he wouldn’t hurt the demonbrat.  Probably.  If the kid got all stabby, he was not responsible for any repercussions he dealt out.  

Also Damian had that little superiority complex going on.  Jason highly doubted he wanted to share a room at all.  

“We are short on rooms,” Clark explained, without Jason having to say anything, “This is an office building, not an apartment complex. You three will have to share one of the offices with the animals.  It’ll be tight, but hopefully temporary while we clean up the rest of the city and start securing more buildings.”

“Right,” Jason grumbled, readjusting Titus’s leash when the dog tried to pull away to go explore.  

“Damian hasn’t said much since…” Clark sighed, “He isn’t doing well.  Seeing family might help cheer him up.”

“Alfred can-” Jason started, just to be cut off by said man.

“Master Jason, while I am sure he will come around, I did just shoot his father.  You are likely to be more of a comfort to him at the moment.”

“I highly doubt he blames you,” Jason tried, but Alfred just shook his head.

“You are his brother,” Alfred said gently, with some finality.  As if that statement were enough to convince Jason.

It wasn’t, but he grumbled and went toward the elevator anyway.  

Because, sure, they both had the same dad.  Kind of.  On good days, when Jason and Bruce were both in decent moods and willing to admit their relationship to each other. 

But they had never considered each other brothers.  Not really.  

Sure, the word had come to mind when thinking about Damian, but they had never even lived together.  Rarely done anything as brothers, or even as family.  It was rare that Jason was let in on things.  Rarer still that Damian was also around, at the same time.  

The elevator dinged, and Jason stepped off on the last floor, then went and found the entrance to the roof, where Clark had said Damian was.

And once Jason opened the door, he saw Damian right there.  Sitting on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling off the side. 

Jason saw his grapple attached to his belt, so he wasn’t worried about the kid falling or anything, but still.

Leave it to a bat to pick a dangerous spot to sort through their trauma.  

Titus started pulling on his leash, trying his best to get at Damian, so Jason said, “Hey kid,” to grab his attention.  

Damian turned, his domino mask in his hands.  Jason could see as he started to roll his eyes, just to be distracted by Titus, who had started barking for Damian.  

Damian slid off the edge of the roof onto the ‘floor’ and opened his arms just as Titus finally reached Damian.  

“Hey, boy,” Damian whispered, burying his face into Titus’s fur, trying his best to hug onto a dog that was so excited all he wanted to do was bounce around and lick at Damian.  

As the reunion dragged on, and Damian definitely cried a little, Jason took a seat next to him and let Dog curl up over his legs.  

Damian eventually sat up and scrubbed at his face, letting Titus cover him and rest on top of him, similar to Dog.  “You have a dog?” Damian asked, looking down at Dog and clearly wanting to pet her. 

“Yeah, you can pet her if you want.”

Dog licked at Damian’s hand after he pet her and tried to hop up to climb up on Damian, too.  Jason felt betrayed.  

But she settled back down and let Jason keep holding her.  

“What’s her name?”

“Dog,” Jason said simply, perfectly aware of how stupid the name was.

But it was what she responded to, so that was her name. 

“Everyone overestimates your intelligence,” Damian drawled, even as he kept scratching Dog’s ear.  

“You’re just jealous of my amazing naming abilities.” 

“Tt. Hardly.”

“At least I didn’t name a cat ‘Alfred.’”

“Did you bring him, too?” Damian asked, and the hint of hope in his voice made Jason smile.  Just a little.

Don’t judge him for it. Damian was a kid, it was nice when kids acted like kids.  

“Yep.  He’s in ‘our’ room, according to Mr. Captain America.”

Damian scowled at that, and asked, “What are you even doing here?”

Shrugging, Jason said, “I’m here to help.  Gotham has gone to shit, pretty much.  No one really left to start up one of these safe houses there.  Besides, this is the official JL one so…”

“And you were invited?” Damian drawled.

Jason couldn’t help his grin. “I invited myself.” 

“Tt.  Figures.”

With another shrug, Jason said, “Eh.  You know.” 

They lapsed into silence as Titus fell asleep, and Dog just stared out at the roof, occasionally picking her head up to look up at Jason, as if checking whether they were still going to sit there or if she could get up yet.  

Each time, Jason would scratch at her head, but kept his head rested back against the wall behind him, just letting the sounds of the city wash over him.

Or, rather.  The near silence of the city.  

Clark and them were doing a fairly decent job, clearing the roads of the ‘zombies.’

“How are you holding up,” Jason asked, closing his eyes.  He didn’t really want to look at Damian and she Damian’s scorn at Jason daring to pretend to care.

“Father…” Damian started, but paused to take a shaky breath, “he-”

“I know, kid,” Jason said, reaching out blindly to pat at Damian’s leg, “Alfred told me.”

Jason opened his eyes in time to see Damian nod, so he added, “Tim and Dick, too.” 

Because he really had no other way to relay that information, if he didn’t already know.  Jason wasn’t stupid.  Damian would be upset about Tim.  But Dick?  Damian would be devastated. 

“I know,” Damian whispered.

“The girls, too.  All of them.”

Damian scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, then shifted so he was leaning a little more toward Jason.  

“I haven’t heard about Duke, yet.” 

When Damian sniffed, Jason looked down fully and saw a tear track down Damian’s face.  Jason hesitated, but he slipped his hand behind Damian’s back and placed his hand right at the base of his neck, trying his best to convey some sort of comfort to the kid.

“It’s just us,” Damian croaked, and with the admission, more tears started to well in his eyes.

“I know, kid,” Jason said, wrapping his arm around Damian fully and pulling him in, much to the annoyance of the dogs, who had to shift, “I know.”

“I miss him so much,” Damian cried, right into Jason’s shoulder, where he’d buried his face, “I didn’t- I didn’t have enough time.”

Jason wrapped his other arm around the kid and shushed him as his crying grew louder and more desperate.  

He’d be a giant liar if he said he didn’t cry, a little, too.  

Because Damian was right.  They didn’t have enough time.  

Not enough time to fix things.  To talk it out.  To apologize and explain.  

Bruce had been a dick to Jason, but Jason had been a dick right back.  

For all the posturing, all the arguments, nasty words, and attempts made on each other, Bruce was still family.

Bruce was still dad. 

And now Jason would never get the chance to reconcile with him.  

With him or Tim or Dick or Barbara or Cass or Stephanie or any of them.  

All he had left was Dog.  Dog and Damian and Alfred.  And he wasn’t even sure if Damian would want him around, once he recovered enough to not need a shoulder to cry on.  Jason was fairly sure that if Damian had an ounce less of pride, he would have just cried on Clark’s shoulder and not even needed Jason.  

“How long are you staying?” Damian croaked, after they’d both long since calmed down.  He pulled out of Jason’s arms and scrubbed at his face once more, doing nothing to hide the evidence of his tears.

“I dunno,” Jason said, and regretted his words instantly.  

Because Damian seemed to shut down at them.  Jason could practically see the walls rise.  The gates slam shut.  The safe lock, hiding away all of Damian’s emotions.  Crushing all his hope and trust. 

“I’ll stay as long as you want me around,” Jason amended.  Because he absolutely would.  If this little brat was willing to tolerate all of Jason’s shit, then Jason would gladly do the same in return.  

He was never good at family, but neither was Damian.  

Maybe they could get along, then.

“You will?” Damian asked, and that little touch of hope was starting to return into his voice, so Jason just smiled, softly.

“Yeah.  I won’t leave you, D.”

“You won’t?” 

Jason shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.  “Brother’s gotta stick together, right?”

“Yeah,” Damian said, smiling slightly as he rested his head against Jason’s arm.  

“Good.”

So maybe he and Damian could be brothers, after all.  

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

TL;DR Went into Captain Britain and Excalibur just to read Meggan, expected to hate Brian, found out they both were bad to each other and are both very injured, traumatized characters grappling with gender norms in their own way, and I have a lot of sympathy and love for them BOTH now even if they definitely are not a good couple at this point. So, I am keenly interested in Meggan Puceanu as a character and a concept. Just learning some very basic things about her prompted THIS META POST three years ago. And that was before I really plunked down and decided to read all her stuff in order. And while I have yet to read ALL of it by a longshot. But I’ve gotten through about 20 issues now, from her first appearances in “The Mighty World of Marvel” in 1984, to meeting and joining up with Brian Braddock/Captain Britain in the second series of Captain Britain in 1985, to the first five issues of Excalibur in 1985. So yeah, keep in mind reading this, I am only up to Excalibur #5. And I know I probably should wait before writing all this stuff, read more, see if my interpretations hold true. But I have so many thoughts and I just can’t wait that long! So please read on with the understanding I may be proven completely wrong in these perceptions later. That said.... I had some basic knowledge of Brian and Meggan’s dynamic. I knew that she was completely emotionally dependent on him, that her every emotion hinged on his approval and attention, that a lot of her very identity was based around pleasing him as his girlfriend. I also knew he’d been a real dick to her, and that his descent into alcoholism had made him an even bigger dick. So, I was really prepared to dislike him. And while I do still dislike the power imbalance that their relationship was founded on, I ended up having very different feelings about Brian himself than I expected---I thought I was going to encounter a shitty macho man himbo asshole who treated Meggan like shit just because. Seriously, look at THIS and THIS and THIS! What a JERK! I was all prepped to despise this guy and yell about toxic masculinity and how Meggan deserved better. Instead, what I found was someone who was as broken and in pain as Meggan herself, but who got far less sympathy for it than she did, both from other characters and from fans. The first big shock that I got was that Brian had been raped twice by female villains in the second Captain Britain series, before Excalibur began. I had actually read about this a couple years ago on TV Tropes, but seeing it was something else. I wrote a longer post about it HERE As noted in the post, Brian never told anyone about either of these incidences as far as I know, nor getting any kind of therapy or treatment. He also started drinking after this happened. And as of Excalibur beginning, Betsy is dead (or so he believes) and he’s grappling a lot with that too. I think it was unethical of him not to rebuff Meggan when she first came on to him, for reasons I’ll discuss later in this post, but also makes sense for his character, not because he’s an unethical person but because he’s actually very passive and seems to just accept whatever is demanded by him of others; he talks about this with Courtney, how he has no choice in being Captain Britain, how it was imposed on him, asking if he’s a coward for just wanting a little of his own life and she unsympathetically says it’s “obscene” how he “can’t be bothered” to “take charge” of his own life (Excalibur #3). It’s a very unusual flaw for a male character. In his own way, he’s at the mercy of what others demand him to be as much as Meggan is with her powers, and I find that really interesting. I already knew that Meggan is very much a reflection of the demands placed on women by society, literally twisting her own emotions and physical forms to coincide with what is considered beautiful and what others desire, whereas Brian, it turns out, is himself a reflection of the demands placed on men---he has to be a warrior, whether he likes it or not (and he doesn’t, it’s part of his backstory that he doesn’t see himself that way at all), he has to be the hero and take care of the girl and he feels he has to just go with it when Meggan decides he’s her man and she needs him. And Meggan is more flawed than I expected. She’s oftentimes shockingly selfish in her obsession with Brian. For instance, when his ex Courtney is kidnapped by the sadistic murderous Arcade, Brian is understandably upset, and this troubles Meggan because she thinks that his being upset means he still cares for Courtney. The selfishness there is staggering; a woman’s life is in danger and Meggan’s first concern is her own love life, and she assumes that the only reason Brian could care about said woman’s life being in danger is if he’s in love with her. Or when Brian’s drinking is first brought up by the rest of the team, Meggan says it hurts her that he turns to those bottles instead of to her (Excalibur #3). So, her problem isn’t that Brian is obviously becoming addicted to alcohol, it’s that SHE isn’t the one that he turns to. She’s got a lot of moments like this. That said, I LIKE this about Meggan. It makes me like her MORE. It makes her WAY more realistic and flawed and human than the archetypical frail damsel who is just an accessory to her man that I was expecting. She’s clingy, she’s possessive, she’s downright nasty and hostile over him a lot! She may not think of herself as a real person, but the writers treat her as one, complete with flaws. Her dependency isn’t treated as a good or romantic thing either, it’s not held up as a female virtue like I was expecting; Brian is actually bothered by it, he confides in Kurt that he doesn’t think he can handle how she relies on him for everything, how he actually PREFERS Courtney because unlike Meggan, Courtney is her own woman-- “She doesn’t seem to NEED me as completely and desperately as Meggan seems to. Sometimes I feel I’m the total and absolute focus of Meggan’s life. It’s a responsibility I don’t think I’m capable of handling.” And Brian is right, this ISN’T a good thing to do in a relationship, Meggan is putting a lot of unfair emotional weight on his shoulders, and he’s already got a lot to bear from his own trauma and loss. In fact, one could even argue that her behavior would be seen as toxic if the genders were reversed. She’s still very sympathetic, of course, because this is coming from a place of real insecurity and need and probably her powers too, but it’s more three-dimensional and complicated than what I originally expected. But I like that. Because again, it’s more realistic, both in terms of Meggan’s behavior and in Brian’s reaction to it---he doesn’t WANT a woman being totally dependent on him and thinking the sun shines out his ass and needing him for everything, he wants another human being. That’s not what I expected a Bad Macho Man Stereotype to be saying! But in fact, Brian says another thing he prefers about Courtney is “she’s her own woman” and  “I can talk to her, Kurt.” (Excalibur #5) Brian is a man who wants to be able to have someone he can be VULNERABLE with, to talk with as an equal about his fears and anxieties---which he does with Courtney, as mentioned---and he can’t do that with Meggan because of the pedestal she puts him on and her needing so much care herself. He says as much himself to Kurt. He also recognizes that he himself probably isn’t equipped to deal with Meggan’s issues, she needs much more help than he can give. This isn’t an idealized thing at all, this is a realistic depiction of two very emotionally injured people in a very messed up dynamic that is bad for BOTH of them, hurting them BOTH. Up til actually reading it, I was expecting it to be one-sided, with Meggan being the only one suffering, but it’s not! And Meggan being like this, of being obsessed with Captain Britain and behaving in a very “cliche” way over him, makes a TON of sense for her, she’s not just obsessed with him for no reason like a typical “just the hero’s girlfriend” character. Meggan grew up being kept secret in her family’s camper-trailer for her then-monstrous appearance, til during the Jasper’s Warp when reality shifted into a world that was putting superhumans, including herself, into concentration camps. While she was in the camps, Captain Britain was a legend as a liberator and freedom fighter who was fighting back against the regime for the sake of people like her. And when reality returned to normal, Meggan was one of the few people who remembered that it had ever changed; she remembered the camps, and she remembered Captain Britain. Even though she’d never even seen him at that point, she clung to him as her one hope. Then the real Captain Britain found her when she was homeless and living in an abandoned warehouse, and he lets her live with him in his mansion because she has nowhere else, which is probably more kindness than she’s ever been shown in her life, and from someone she idolized. Which, as I said way earlier in this essay, does make their relationship an inherently unethical one because of their power imbalance, as he’s got a lot of power over her in terms of being the one providing her with a home, food, clothing, etc., not to mention her emotional dependency that’s obvious well before she makes a move on him. So we’re already starting on really problematic territory. But it makes SENSE for her. Add to that Meggan was raised on television in a VERY literal sense. Again, she was locked up in her camper trailer all day every day her whole life, and so she spent most of her time just watching TV. It’s shown that this has given her SOME UNREALISTIC IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO BEHAVE so I think that absorbing the media’s depictions of how women are “supposed” to behave towards their men is actually pretty realistic. She’s not doing this because the writers think this is just how women are----NONE of the other female characters act at all like she does!---but because SHE thinks it’s what’s normal and expected, and she’s probably very much imprinted on the media’s fantasy fairytale depiction of relationships. Given how she grew up as an ugly monster and seeing herself as such, I can very much see her as latching on the idea of “beautiful sweet woman who is valued for her beauty and being with the lead man and has no identity apart from that” that’s prevalent in media, which she would take for a reflection of reality, a reality that she thought her whole life would be denied to her. So all her behavior has a good in-character reason; she could even be read as a criticism of trying to enact gendered media stereotypes in real life and how they can’t actually work in the complexity of the real world, and how damaging they are to those who absorb them. What’s also funny is that despite appearing to be the standard “strong man, pretty woman” couple, especially with Brian becoming emotionally distant and cruelly pushing her away whilst she’s very emotional and obsessed with pleasing him, is they actually subvert this paradigm as much as they play it straight. The Juggernaut WIPES THE FLOOR with Brian at one point, and then Meggan shows up, shapeshifts into a GIANT MUSCULAR VERSION OF HERSELF, and comes to his rescue with Rachel and Kitty! That’s right, a buff lady and two other ladies save the dude in distress! And then afterwards, she acts like SHE was the one in danger, resuming her default petite form and jumping into his big manly arms while he asks if she’s alright and she says “Always in your arms!” ---it’s hilarious! (Excalibur #3) And of course, speaking of subverting gender stereotypes, there’s Brian’s desire to have a partner he can be vulnerable with, which is really astounding to me----he’s very much grappling with the expectations of toxic masculinity in a way that’s harming him as much as Meggan. Not just in relation to Meggan, but also, as mentioned before, in relation to not having control of his own life as Captain Britain, and being responsible for others. In particular, he’s messed up over Betsy’s (seeming) death, and over not having protected her, as a man would be expected to protect his sister. In the panel right before the “changeling cow!” scene I linked earlier, THIS IS WHAT HE SAYS. He doesn’t see himself as any good if he doesn’t meet impossible standards. And while Meggan reacts to pain by getting teary, Brian consistently reacts to his pain (or trying to hide it) by getting ANGRY, which is consistent with how women vs men are socialized. Which is not to say it’s anything but VISCERALLY HORRIBLE when he lashes out at Meggan, especially given how dependent she is on him, and she absolutely SHOULD have dumped his ass then, but it’s also a lot more three-dimensional than the emotionally abusive drunken bad boyfriend stereotype I was expecting.  I know I’m a broken record on this, but I am just so shocked at how sympathetic I ended up being to a guy I was so prepared to hate and was so cruel to a character (Meggan) that I was already very sympathetic to and invested in. Instead, I’m invested in them BOTH now and want to see them BOTH heal from this, and from each other. So, basically, I was really ready to be mad about Meggan’s lack of agency and her dependence on Brian. And these are things that happen. But the writers are clearly AWARE of it, and treat them as issues to be addressed and overcome. Meggan and Brian come off not as the cliche male and female stereotypes they first appeared, and that I expected, but very critical examinations and sometimes subversions of them, and both are shown as being hurt by the expectations of their gender, and being hurt by each other as they enact those expectations. It’s not totally perfect, not by a long shot, but it’s very interesting and a lot more nuanced than I expected some straight white guys in the 80s to be writing, it’s definitely a far cry from the typical idealized relationship between a hero and a leading lady, and I’m pretty impressed with it. And I’m looking forward to reading more.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Part 2: The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

A couple of years down the road from Part 1...

Pairing: Dean x Toby Matheson (female OC)

Word Count: 2318

Warnings: None but fluff and fanfic tropes :)

Part 3 will be coming next weekend!

Dean!” Sam’s voice echoed through the room, and Dean’s eyes snapped to his brother, one hand reaching out to catch the accurately-tossed pistol. He flicked the safety off, firing without hesitation into the demon who was currently straddling Toby’s body, his hands around her throat.

“Get off her, you son of a bitch!” he shouted, moving closer as he continued firing. The demon finally toppled sideways, leaping to his feet with a snarl.

“Fine. I’ll take you out first.”

“You can try, asshole.” Dean crouched into a defensive position, bracing himself as the demon charged at him. He grappled him, throwing them both to the ground, taking the creature by surprise momentarily. “Goodbye, you evil prick,” he sneered, rolling away suddenly as Sam moved in from behind him, sinking the demon blade into its chest, watching with malice as the red glow flickered and died within its eyes.

“Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah.” He was scrambling towards Toby, who still laid unmoving on the filthy floor. “Toby. Tobe? Come on, sweetheart, tell me you’re okay.” His voice got a little louder as he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey...”

She stirred with a pained groan, making a sudden move to sit up, but Dean’s hand held her gently in place. “Dean?”

“Yeah. Take it easy. We’re okay. The demon’s toast.” She winced as she moved, and Dean slipped an arm beneath her, supporting her shoulders and helping her sit up.

“Whoa… dizzy,” she mumbled, leaning into Dean’s body for support. “Guess he knocked me around pretty good. Blindsided me, I didn’t even see him coming.” She tilted her head back against his shoulder, her eyes trying to focus.

They filed into the room together, Sam and Dean dropping their bags and Sam heading straight towards the far bed. Toby made a quick sweep of the cramped space, noting the two regular-size beds and one misshapen, rather short sofa against the wall. “I’ll take the couch if I can have the first shower,” she said, and Dean waved a hand towards the tiny bathroom.

“Go ahead. Sure you’re okay?”

She shot him an eye roll, softened with a smile. “Think I can manage a quick shower.”

“Try to leave some hot water.”

She waved a dismissive hand, shuffling to her bag to grab what she needed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Sam had just fallen, face-first, onto his bed, not uttering a word. She made her way to the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her, numbly shedding her clothes and turning the water on.

She scrubbed herself quickly, washed her hair and got out, too tired and her head throbbing too badly to even enjoy standing under the hot water to ease her aching muscles. She dressed for bed and wrapped a towel around her head, calling out, “Next!” as she stepped out, making her way to the couch to sit and finish towel-drying her hair. By the time Dean was finished with his shower, she was sound asleep, the one extra blanket in the room draped over her.

He glanced over at his brother. Sam was down for the count, too, so he crawled between the rough motel sheets and fell asleep almost immediately, in spite of the aches and pains.

~~~~~~~~~~

Toby woke with a hiss, almost falling off the couch as she recoiled from the stabbing pain in her hip. She stood up carefully, grabbing her phone from the small table beside her and aiming it at the lumpy sofa as she pulled the covers back. A jagged piece of spring had pierced the ancient plaid upholstery, and she could feel a burning sting where it had carved a deep scratch down the side of her hip and thigh. “Awesome,” she whispered to herself with an impatient sigh.

She turned towards the beds. “Desperate times...” she muttered, looking back and forth between the two. Sam was starfished across the entire surface of his bed, feet hanging off the sides and his arms splayed across the top portion. No way that was going to work.

She reluctantly eyed Dean’s bed. He, at least, was laying on his side, leaving a little space behind him. Better than nothing. And definitely better than being stabbed to death in her sleep.  She grabbed her pillow and walked over to the bed, folding the covers back carefully and slipping in beside him. She turned her back, pulled the blankets up around her neck and gladly let sleep carry her away again.

She woke up, warm and cozy, light beginning to creep into the room through the cheap curtains. Her bladder was nagging her to get up, so she shifted to throw the covers off, but moving was not an option.

Dean was wrapped around her, his feet tangled with hers, his arm over her holding her close, one large  hand with a firm hold on her left breast.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She should have slept on the floor. Or in the car. This was bad.

She took a breath and moved, but he let out a forlorn little moan and pulled her closer. And, of course, her body completely betrayed her, her nipple hardening beneath his clutching hand. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and sighed, still in a deep sleep. Thank God.

She planned her escape, move by move, with the care of a Broadway choreographer, ready to act fast and get to the bathroom before Dean had the chance to be fully awake. Hopefully he’d never know it happened. Things went fairly smoothly, other than the fact that she ended up on all fours on the floor, but what do you expect when there’s no chance to rehearse? She sprang to her feet and almost ran to the bathroom, seeing the rosy flush on her face as she stared back from the mirror. “Oh, shut up,” she growled, turning away to head for the toilet.

The cut on her hip was stinging, and she looked down, touching it gingerly. “Probably catch herpes from that stupid couch.”

She sneaked out of the bathroom to grab her duffle, went back in and dressed, then left the room to walk down the block to the convenience store. Might as well get everyone some coffee. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be there when Dean woke up.

When she got back, she entered the room as quietly as possible. Sam was up, she could hear the shower. Dean was still out, but started to stir as she walked in. “Hey.”

“Morning, sleepyhead. Brought you some coffee,” she smiled, determinedly squashing the thoughts about how cute he looked with his tousled hair and drowsy eyes.

“You’re a goddess,” he said, his voice husky with sleep.

She turned her back, letting him climb out of bed and change, sipping at her coffee and sinking her teeth into the fresh pastry she had purchased with it. He reached around her for his coffee and dropped into a chair, his eyebrows bunched as he stared up at her, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Did you get in my bed last night?”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Uh… yeah. The couch? It tried to stab me. I’ve got a cut on my hip, hurt like a son of a bitch. So I had to invade your space, sorry.” He just kept looking at her, and she felt herself blushing again. “What?”

“Did I… uh… was I…?” He made a squeezing motion with his hand, and she clenched her jaw, her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

“Yeah.”

He blew out a little breath, his gaze suddenly looking everywhere but at her. “Oh. I, uh – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I just thought I was having an awesome dream.”

“Can we just forget about it, please?”

He nodded, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, sure. Yep. Never happened.” She turned her back to him, taking a swallow of hot coffee and almost enjoying the nearly scalding sensation in her throat. “So, let me see that cut.”

She whirled to face him. “No, Dean, it’s fine. Really.”

“Let me see it.” A smirk slowly curled the corner of his mouth. “I’ve put stitches in your ass, nothing I haven’t already seen.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You would have to bring that up. You’re such an asshole.” She turned, undoing her jeans and pulling them down far enough to give him a glimpse. “See, it’s fine.”

“Shit, that looks like it hurt.” She almost jerked away when his fingers touched her, yanking her jeans back into place and turning her back to fasten them, grateful that she wasn’t facing him when he spoke softly again. “So… when I was, you know… I – uh – I didn’t do anything, right? I mean...”

She answered him quietly, half-annoyed at herself for the jitters his touch had given her. “No, Dean. You were just – holding onto me.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I was… I mean, in my dream, I was definitely doing more than holding.”

She forced a laugh. “So, who was it? That blonde from the bar a couple months ago?”

He was silent for a minute or two, then cleared his throat. “It was you.” He stood and moved to his bag, stuffing yesterday’s clothes inside.

“Oh.” So much for ever looking him in the eye again. To her relief, Sam chose that moment to  walk out of the bathroom.

Within half an hour, they were hauling their stuff out to the Impala. She climbed in the back, still distracted from the interaction with Dean, looking up with a sheepish expression when Sam asked, “So, where’s your car?”

“Wow, I almost forgot. It’s parked a few blocks from the demon house.”

She climbed behind the wheel of her car, key in the ignition, and muttered under her breath. “Please be a good girl and start for me. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.”

The old Ford whined and made a futile grinding noise, but didn’t turn over. She tried again, and then once more with the same result, and closed her eyes at the knock on her window.

“Pop the hood.” She nodded and complied, and Dean moved to the front of the car as she got out.

“She’s been kind of acting up lately.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He shot her a derisive look and turned back to his task. “Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t be ‘bothering’ me. You don’t want to get stranded somewhere, do ya?”

“Yeah, well, just because you saved my life once doesn’t make you responsible for my piece-of-shit car.”

“Once?” he grinned, and she slapped his arm. He replaced the battery cable he’d been fiddling with. “Try her again.”

She got back inside and turned the key. “Come on, girl,” she encouraged, and after a couple of reluctant groans, the engine turned over. She gave a little cheer, patting the dash, and looking up at Dean, who was standing near the open door. His eyes were roaming over the packed back seat, and she felt her heart sink.

“What’s all this?” he motioned at the boxes and clothes piled behind her. “This case catch you in the middle of a move?”

“Um, yeah. I’m kind of – between places.”

“What does that mean?”

“I lost my apartment. Even though I paid in advance, landlord said if I wasn’t going to actually be there, his daughter needed a place. Just kind of booted me out. And I wasn’t there much, but I paid the damn rent. I just haven’t had time to look for another place.”

Dean looked at her, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. If he knew that she’d been sleeping in her car for the past six weeks… When he focused his gaze on her like he was now, it almost seemed as if he could read her thoughts. “Well, Homeless – you could come back to the bunker with us. Not like we don’t have plenty of room. Plenty of rooms. And the rent’s reasonable. Damn near non-existent. Just have to take turns cooking.”

“Dean, I couldn’t...”

“Sammy! Tell her she can stay with us. She lost her apartment.”

“No, really...”

Sam came to stand beside his brother, arms folded. “Of course you’re gonna stay with us.” She looked up at the two of them and threw up her hands.

“Okay, okay. I give. No chance of winning an argument with both Winchesters at once.” She stopped, looking up at them with narrowed eyes. “This time.”

Sam laughed and Dean grinned, heading for the car. “Just honk if that pile of junk starts acting up again,” he called out, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she threw it in gear and backed up, waiting to follow.

Determined not to seem like a burden, Toby launched into cleaning the place within an inch of its life. Finally, tired of dodging buckets and mops and tripping over the contents of the kitchen cupboards, Dean put his foot down. “We didn’t ask you to stay so you could kill yourself cleaning the place. Just take it easy.”

“Yeah, well – I just want to earn my keep.”

He sighed. “You hunt with us, that earns plenty. Knock it the fuck off.” His harsh words were softened by his crooked smile, and she ducked her head, smiling in return.

“Okay, okay. No more cleaning.” She smiled even bigger as he pulled his hands from behind his back with a cold beer for each of them. “Thanks.” After a long pull from the bottle, she plopped down into a chair. “Speaking of hunting – do we have one?”

“When Sam gets back from the supply run, we’ll decide for sure. But, yeah – looks like we might have a vamp nest to deal with down near Tulsa.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags for my bbs:

@saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @misswhizzy​    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​    @geeklibrarian​    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​    @aprofoundbondwithdean​    @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​    @mrswhozeewhatsis​    @littlegreenplasticsoldier​    @sleep-silent-angel​    @darcia22​    @winchesterprincessbride​    @ackeviddlestan​   @ellen-reincarnated1967​    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess​      @deanslittleangel2y5​    @melanie451​    @lovin-ackles​    @spectaculacular-sammy​     @bookchic20​    @jodyri​    @selma-jean​           @savingapplepie-eatingthings​    @angelofwinchester17​    @kittenofdoomage​    @masked-maiden42​    @lean-mean-deanwinchester​    @ericuhlorain​    @undecided-garden​    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirst​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @hamartiamacguffin​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​  @kathaswings​  @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​

[purplesurveys]

961

What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen? Unsettling films are my jam, man. To name a few, there’s Eraserhead, Room, Midsommar, Eyes Wide Shut, Misery, and most recently, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Eraserhead takes the cake though. That movie always makes me queasy...

What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole? I’m a firm believer in nothing good ever comes out of unethical practices. I’ll never forget reading about an experiment where a group of newborn babies were given basic needs like food and being bathed, but weren’t shown any affection whatsoever and it was meant to see if humans can survive with just the most basic physiological needs. By the end of the experiment period half of the babies were dead. The results were honestly a lot bleaker than how I’ve put it, but I don’t wanna be a downer lol. Suffice it to say that experiment haunted me for days after reading it.

When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t? It was around a week or so ago, I’m pretty sure.

Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base? My sister is into K-pop and I hear insights from her all the time, but her one constant is that BTS breeds the most annoying, toxic fans. I’d have to agree. Ariana Grande’s fandom was also annoying at one point, but I haven’t heard much from them making a mess these days.

What are you interested in that most people aren’t? Autobiographies.

If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you? Why would I deserve a PhD on something I’m clearly not qualified for...I’m not sure I’m following this question right, but I don’t feel like thinking too hard about it.

What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement? I’m happy with the features that are widespread now, but I wish companies adhere more to countries other than the common ones like US, UK, Australia, etc. I always see ads about phones being able to tell you how much movie tickets cost or track boarding passes, but those are all irrelevant here. It makes a lot of Apple’s basic apps useless on this side of the world haha.

What’s something people don’t worry about but really should? Long-term effects of poor habits like not getting enough sleep or drinking too many cups of coffee. I know because I’m guilty of this.

What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis? “I won’t think about that now, I’ll think about it tomorrow,” but I usually say it to myself, especially when I feel stressed.

Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents? Better, but idk if that’s just me being biased because my generation will be the next parents lol. I just think that a lot of Gen X parents still have a lot of dated prejudices and mindsets that my generation was able to learn better from. For example my mom doesn’t like using people’s preferred names, especially if they’ve transitioned -_____- and I know I’d never want to set such an example for my kids.

What’s the funniest joke you know by heart? I know I’ve come across hilarious ones but I always fail to come up with one when asked on the spot.

When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life? LOL RIGHT NOW

What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having? It’s more stupid than funny and I know I’ve already mentioned this before, but Covid Bryant as a first and second name still takes the cake for me. My sister went to school with a girl whose name is just her surname backwards, and for a time I was really weirded out by it. But in the times I’ve seen her she really owns her name and never looks bothered by it, so I quickly stopped caring.

Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money? For me it would have to be organizations for animal welfare.

What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week? Post-El Camino Jesse Pinkman. I wouldn’t want to live through his chaotic shit  from Breaking Bad, but his fate after El Camino is something I’m super envious of.

What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now? Flip phones, Blackberry phones, Roshes, Frappuccinos.

If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack? Phone, laptop, their chargers, important IDs, some of my favorite tops and jeans, underwear, essential toiletries, wallet, a family photo, a journal and pen, earphones, certain knickknacks to remember Gab and my dogs by. Minus the clothes, all of these are pretty tiny so I think these would all fit in the bag just fine.

What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen? I don’t know. I’m not really a fan of rating the most/worst this and that stuff in my life, either. I feel like I unnecessarily rack my brain too hard for them when I take surveys to have a chill time.

If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first? Probably something that’d keep my dogs from dying.

If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do? No thanks. I’d be the chillest ghost tbh, I’d like to just sneak up on people’s business and hang out but never interfere in them.

What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving? Climate change, global warming, alleviation of poverty. Corporations and the few people who actually have the power and money to change things only ever come up with short-term shit like donations and never look at the big picture. What problem are you currently grappling with? So many personal ones. But just like the recurring theme of my surveys so far, “I don’t want to get into it.”

What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role? As much as I love Kristen Stewart, I heard she was cast as Princess Diana for an upcoming film and I’m not really feeling that decision. They could’ve gone with a British actress for starters?????? The movie is still in production but it is pretty annoying to think about lmao.

What game have you spent the most hours playing? Probably GTA: San Andreas as a kid.

What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in? Luxury hotel beds are always so fluffy and comfortable.

What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard? Omg one time at a coffee shop Gabie and I sat beside this older couple that obviously was going through some heavy SHIT. There was a lot of animosity and tension between them and I caught the lady silently break into tears a few times. I never overheard anything but then again they sat in silence for hours until the lady finally walked out on him. Never knew what it was about but I’ve always guessed that the man did something crappy, like cheat, and was discovered. It was a really sad sight and a crazy situation to witness and I think I felt even more sorry because they were obviously in their 50s or 60s. I hope the woman is in a better place now as she looked rough as fuck that evening.

What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked? I wore a lot of hats when I was in my college org, and that was on top of balancing my acads as well.

What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it? That scene from Friends where Ross plays the keyboard for Chandler, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel.

What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation? It depends on what music they’re into and if I have actually have a recommendation in mind for them. I obviously can’t suggest Paramore to someone who mainly listens to metal.

If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose? I’m down for any monuments that are super ancient like Stonehenge or the Pyramids of Giza.

If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying? I’d go with frogs, but only because they get annoyingly loud in the evening.

What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been? Playing The Sims, Mario Kart, Rock Band, or games in the Burnout franchise.

What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? Japan was so fucking cold when I was there. Didn’t do my research and ended up being dressed poorly, and I was so cold I could barely talk to my parents or fully enjoy my time. Sagada was also nearly unbearable in the early morning.

Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate? Not from a book or movie, but BoJack Horseman. Diane can also be in the running as I always found her too whiny. I get that she had her personal shit to deal with, but I don’t think living with her would be good for my own sanity and mental health.

Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine? It annoys my chef dad to death that I don’t lol. No matter how great it looks, I’d bounce. I once ate expired Kit Kats that tasted like cardboard and that scared me off of expired food forever.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought? I once bought a stupid novelty soap that to this day I’ve never even opened. It’s in one of my drawers, and I plan to just throw it out at some point.

What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen? Not a fan of these but one that got to me is Dear Sister from SNL.

What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten? A few years ago there was a local breakfast place that offered red velvet pancakes for a limited time and I was all over that crap, so I went and ordered. The actual pancakes ended up not being any bigger than my palm, and I remember not being able to hide my disappointment once the server placed the dish on my table haha. I felt so scammed. I had to order something else to feel full, because those pancakes were stupidly small.

What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job/jobs? One of my superiors, when she was presenting a pitch to our director yesterday, kept asking questions and picking at the director’s brain so that she can get suggestions and answers straight from the director herself and so that she didn’t have to do any brainstorming anymore. I thought that was a pretty nifty and clever hack.

What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? Hiking a mountain!

What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them? Umbrella by Rihanna feat. Jay-Z.

What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone? Idk, anything can be the worst depending on the context. I’m not a fan of giving those, though.

What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched? Unsolved Mysteries’ Dupont de Ligonnès episode was a lot of fun to watch.

What was the last song you sang along to? I think it was Thinking of You by Katy Perry? but I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t sung along to anything in a while.

What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet? I don’t really download and use a lot of apps other than the basic ones, so I don’t care too much.

When was the last time you face palmed? Last night.

If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create? I’d give it away to the Martial Law museum currently being made near my university so that it can do more to show the atrocities of the Marcoses. And so that I can piss off my pro-Marcos relatives.

Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up? Uh hating myself, if that counts.

What really needs to be modernized? Public transportation systems in this country.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Wet Sugar [Part 8 of 30]

Summary: Erik tries to survive Africa for himself and Yani...

"You're on your own now We won't save you Your rescue squad Is too exhausted

And if you complain once more You'll meet an army of me And if you complain once more You'll meet an army of me…"

Bjork – "Army of Me"

The two men outside of Erik's hotel door stood quietly waiting for him to open up.

Erik took a few seconds to assess how fast he could pack his things and slip out of the room through the balcony. He was on the fourth floor, but he might be able to climb over to the balcony next to his.

Another knock.

Slipping on his clothes, Erik shoved his computer tab into its casing. He slinked over to the closed balcony sliding glass door and opened it. There was a wide gap between the balconies on either side of his own. It was too dangerous to attempt a jump. He thought he could tie his bedsheets together and climb down to the room below him, but before he could even reach the bed, the hotel door opened, not by being kicked in, but with a room key.

Someone had set him up.

The two hulky men rushed Erik and he used his crossbody bag to snag the hand holding the gun pointed at him. He wrapped the bag around the bearded man's wrist and swung him around, kicking him in the knees at the same time until the man dropped to the floor. Erik twisted the gun toward the man's throat and jammed his own index finger on top of the other man's finger and squeezed the trigger. The bullet ripped a wet hole in the man's throat unleashing a gushing cascade of blood. Erik released the gun and spun into a capoeira leg swipe to make the other bald-headed man lose his balance. The bald intruder was too quick and grabbed Erik's throat, choking him while pushing him out toward the balcony.

Erik dug his heels into the floor to stop the man's momentum but he was outweighed by at least fifty pounds and Erik felt the hard jab of the hotel balcony railing digging into his lower back. Before this killer had a chance to reach for his gun, Erik switched up his mother's Brazilian fighting stance to that of his father's. Ulwa was a Wakandan martial art that targeted an opponent's core and vital organs and Erik's index and middle fingers curled into hooks. He struck the man's neck twice and then made quick punctuating stabs into his chest and sides.

For an all too brief moment, Erik had the brute backing up so that he could raise his body from the railing, but a fist made like a cement block knocked Erik in the jaw throwing him back again. That strike was joined by a barrage of punches that had Erik gasping and falling to his knees, his hands twisting and jabbing to stop more blows while protecting his neck and face.

The business end of a gun was jammed against his forehead and the cool metal made him take hot shallow breaths. His eyes stared directly at the hired killer's pockmarked face, a calm coming over him as he worked out a multitude of scenarios to get himself out of this alive. It wasn't the first time a weapon had been stuck in his face over the years, so there was no begging and pleading to be kept alive. Just a stream of calculations running through his mind.

"Who fucking sent you here?" he barked, buying a little more time. The man's eyes looked smug, and he smiled. One of his top front teeth was chipped and he pressed the gun harder into Erik's forehead. The stranger slid his free index finger up to his lips making the "Shh" sign and before he could fire the weapon, Erik used all the force in his right fist to punch the man in his balls. Twice. He snatched the man's gun from his hand and threw it into the hotel room as he jumped to his feet. They grappled with each other's shirts and Erik threw a punch that caught the man's eye. Leaping back with his left leg, Erik pivoted his hips giving momentum to his right foot as he lifted it and kicked the man in his chest. He struck the man in the face with his right foot again and again. A final hard kick to his midsection sent the man tumbling over the railing. Erik heard the thud as the body hit the ground.

Wasting no time, Erik shoved the man's weapon into his crossbody bag and scurried to pack up the last of his belongings. They all fit into a small duffle bag. He spent a few minutes wiping down all the surfaces he touched and then rinsed off the wash rags he had used to clean up his semen.

Turning off all the lights, he slipped out of the hotel room and used the stairs to get to the lobby. Dark glasses over his eyes, he kept his head down and left the hotel. Flagging a cab, he had the driver take him to another hotel across town.

Erik paid for a room in the new hotel with cash and made a call to his pilot.

"Joma, I need to leave tonight," he said into his cell. Staring out of the new hotel window, Erik felt his adrenaline kicking in. He was always calm in the midst of trouble, but right after, his body would remind him that he was human.

"Mr. Killmonger, it is so late, it may be difficult to get—"

"I'll double the pay. I need to get out of the country now!"

"Call me back in ten minutes. I will see what I can do."

"Ten minutes."

Think.

Joma was a desperate man, but Erik didn't think he would be involved in a plot to kill him. It might be better to get a regular domestic flight back into Angola to be safe. But if it was Joma, they would be the only two in the plane. Erik could kill him if it turned out the man was an accomplice. He could fly the plane himself if he really needed to. But he was always good at sniffing people out, and Joma was just a regular dude. His desperation was because of a bossy wife and too many children. He wouldn't take the chance of bringing harm to his family. He knew right away that Erik was not a man to double-cross. In fact, Joma was eager to work for Erik again once he saw what he was paying for a regular flight.

Erik kept his eyes on the entrance of the hotel.

Time to call.

"Joma—"

"Okay, meet me at the airstrip. I will take you."

Erik hung up. Wiping his prints and any traces of himself away, he left the second hotel.

The streets were busy and the cab he caught he ditched a few miles away from the hotel to throw off his trail if he was followed. Moving through the night time crowd of people, he zig-zagged his way down different streets, dipping in and out of bars and cafes before he took a final jitney cab to the airstrip. The last cab driver was paid a little extra than the fare required and Erik showed him the gun that he took from the intruder. Pointing it at the man he made his intentions clear.

"You never saw me, and you never came to this airstrip. Understand?"

The cabbie nodded and left right away.

Joma was waiting for him and they slipped out of Benin. Staring down at the city lights as the plane ascended, Erik thought of the two dead bodies growing cold at the hotel. He had to find out who was after him.

And kill them first.

###

Erik didn't mention anything about being attacked in Benin.

He acted normal and ready to get to work when Klaue picked him up from the regular airport and brought him back to the Luanda compound. He went to his small room in the two-story house they occupied and rested a bit. He focused on calming his energy, but it was hard when he suspected that the attack might be an inside job. A lot of Klaue's men didn't like him. But not many were bold enough to confront him if they had a problem. Erik could be pretty belligerent and a bully over basic shit, so coming at him over something major was not something any of those meat bags would attempt overtly. But covertly…

His first thought was Huntsman. That man was already in Nigeria waiting for Klaue so it would've been easy for him to pay off some goons to come after Erik since he was relatively close by. It could possibly be Limbani, Klaue's main man after Erik. He would just have to keep an eye and ear out for anyone acting suspiciously over the fact that he made it back to Luanda in one piece. Any slight looks of surprise or a subtle expression of disappointment at his walking around the compound again would help him sniff out clues.

He couldn't rest, and he took a sleeping pill to help temper his nerves. He wasn't falling asleep fast enough and used the restless energy in his body to use his own satellite cell phone to sneak a peek at his DMs.

Killmonger? This You?

I know this is you. Where are you?

You there? I know you saw my first message. You had me on read.

Call me.

Will you come back?

Are you alright?

Just tell me you are alright. I won't bother you again.

Are you with your Linda?

Killmonger?

???

He ignored his social media feed for weeks. He could hear the sound of Yani's tender voice as he read each of her messages. He read them over and over. His eyes felt a bit drowsy and blurry as he stared at the screen of his cell. He was about to swipe his phone off when a new message suddenly popped up.

Sweet Pea misses you. I miss you.

Erik sat up from his bed, his eyes blinking at her new words.

He had extended family scattered around the world, and they missed him often, but they weren't waiting around to see him. The only person who ever missed him in that way was his Ex. That was so long ago he had forgotten the emotion and the sensation he was feeling at that moment…guilt. Guilt came when one felt bad for making another person feel even worse. And that only happened to Erik when he cared about someone. And Disǎ was the only non-relative who made him feel like that…until now. Now, there were two people out there. A mother and her baby.

I know you're there. You just read this.

He saw little green circles light up. She was writing something more. He wanted to turn his phone off, kicking himself internally for not shutting off his public online status. She must've had his feed linked to her notifications for whenever he was on live the same time she was. He had to focus on who wanted him dead, not lay there like some moon-faced teenager filled with angst.

He expected another text but instead, a picture of Sydette popped up.

Erik's eyes widened. He had only been gone for a little over a month, and already the baby was bigger and changing dramatically. She was wearing a blue jumper and her hair was pulled up into two fist-sized afro puffs. So much more hair now. And there were those big dimples in her smile, and…two little teeth trying to grow from her top gums, looking like tiny white grains of rice.

Yani…

He typed her name but hesitated about sending it. He could just read her messages and not respond, knowing that she was alright, but ignoring her.

But that was cruel.

She and the baby were on his mind all the time. As much as he fought to forget them and just keep on his task, keep Klaue close, keep his eyes on the prize as always, he couldn't let go of them. He didn't understand the sudden attachment. It was messing up his mental. He was a loner. His only responsibility was to himself and his goal…

He pressed the send button.

Yani.

Green circles again.

Her words made his heartache.

Tell me it's you, please, tell me. I need to know.

Words wouldn't be enough for her.

Erik held his cell phone high above his head and snapped a picture. He sent it to her.

He saw the green circles on her end and he waited to see what she would say. But no words came. For five minutes he sat and waited, but no text popped up for him to read. He saw that she viewed his picture, Yani knew for sure it was him, but she still didn't send him new words. And he needed them. Desperately.

It's me, baby. It's really me.

A private Face Chat link popped onto his screen with Yani's avatar. He accepted the invitation to join her.

Her round face greeted him and her eyes were wet with tears. She was lying on her bed in Leona's apartment with Sydette in her arms feeding her. He could see Sweet Pea suckling her left breast with Yani's thin sleep shirt pushed up above the baby's curly head of hair. Yani was using a laptop to speak to him.

She wiped her eyes and stared at him. He couldn't breathe for a second. Couldn't speak. Just watched her feed the baby while trying to absorb the swirling emotions he was feeling. He was grateful to see her. Happy to see Sydette. And he was scared. The fear welled up in him and he could not ascertain exactly what it was that frightened him as he looked at this young woman with her child.

"You look tired, Killmonger," she finally said.

Her voice made his lower lip tremble. He longed to hear her say his real name.

"I am tired. Tough day, girl."

Her hand went up to her face again to wipe at her eyes.

"Sweet Pea…she uh…wow, she's really growing, huh?" he said.

Yani nodded and he could see her struggling to keep her composure, her chest heaving and causing Sydette to squirm in her arms. Her eyes gazed down at the baby.

"She changes every week almost. And these new teeth coming in…whew!"

Erik laughed and he was glad to see Yani smile. She lifted her head back up to look at him.

"You're not ever coming back, are you?"

He felt the hot tears slide down from his eyes. He had no control over them and was shocked that they fell from his eyes in front of her so easily. If he had a target on his back, he didn't want to bring it with him to her.

"Yani I—"

The door to his room flung open and Erik ended the chat with a swipe of the finger. His right hand swept under his pillow and brought out the gun he took from the hotel.

"You still up, man?"

Shipley staggered in with a can of beer. Erik's mind was so distracted that he forgot to lock his room. He slipped the gun under the covers near his hip.

"I'm about to go to sleep now."

"Who were you talking to?"

"My sister."

"Come have a beer with me, I'm bored. Everyone else is asleep but there's a match on. England versus France."

"I'll pass," Erik said turning over in his bed and switching off his bedside lamp.

"Party pooper."

Shipley closed his door. Erik waited a few minutes then leaped up to lock his room. He thought about calling Yani back on the Face Chat line, but he couldn't bear to see her cry again. It would only make him break down more too. It was enough for now that she knew he was fine.

He shoved the gun under the second pillow on his bed and tried to go to sleep, wanting so badly to dream of Yani and Sweet Pea. Wanting so badly to be in the bed with them at Leona's. He wanted to hold her while she held the baby. And maybe for once…just once…be still.

###

Erik checked all ten of the trucks loaded with assault rifles and made sure numbers matched up with all paperwork needed to cross the Angola borders into Zambia and Namibia. Their stockpiles of weapons were low once this last shipment went out, but another one of Klaue's cargo planes from South Africa was due to touch down in a few hours with the armaments the Nigerians wanted.

"Relax Killmonger, I've double checked everything," Limbano said, annoyance in his voice as Erik's eyes took in everything.

"And now I'm triple checking. Can't afford to miss anything. You remember last time."

Limbano kept his mouth shut. 500 man-portable air-defense systems were loaded onto an incorrect convoy headed out of Luanda into the Congo, and disaster was averted when Erik's OCD kicked in and he had to look over the paperwork and trucks himself. Limbano was in charge of that job and nearly botched it.

Secure that everything was in order, Erik gave the head nod to move out and he sought out Klaue.

"Flights on time," Klaue said typing into a laptop as he sat under a cooling tent.

"Good," Erik said.

"Got a little nibble for some grenades and small arms in Botswana," Klaue said, his eyes twinkling with the thought of another sale.

"And?"

"And?"

"I'm ready to get up outta here, man," Erik said.

"In and out. Half payment upfront, the rest on delivery. Then a nice week off before we head to Kabul. Four-man team cut four ways only."

"Who do you have in mind besides me?"

"Limbano and Iverson. Low key. Go in like tourists. Check the players out. Take the cash. Set up delivery."

Erik needed to keep this man close. Klaue's greed had him doing penny-ante jobs that were more for the thrill than for financial gain. Erik needed this fucker alive until he was ready to kill him and use his body as a bargaining chip. Turning him down could cause problems and force the man to cut him loose in the future if he felt Erik was being selective with jobs. He was supposed to be about that money. He had to do it. Especially if he wanted to take advantage of getting back to St. Thomas and locked into the man's stronghold.

"How soon?"

"Two days from now."

"Okay."

Klaue rubbed his hands together.

"My good man! Two more jobs and then a nice long break."

Erik looked at Klaue's prosthetic arm. It appeared tampered with and not in good condition.

"What's going on with that?" he asked.

"Making some alterations, but it's not doing so well. Need to figure out how to design something with a better energy transfer without shorting out the mechanical use. It's too uneven. I could blow my entire side out."

"When I have that vacation time you keep talking about, I'll come up with something for you to fix that," Erik said. Klaue smiled.

Erik nodded to the lead truck driver and watched the vehicles head out. Africa was wearing on him. The one bright spot was finding a hired guard for the Luanda compound who shared the origins of capoeira with him once he saw Erik working out under the hot sun during a lunch break. To be in the birthplace of the fighting style he learned from Brazilians who carried it with them into the New World was an honor he couldn't deny. Ramses, the guard who played with him and showed Erik the differences in style was a humble man with a sister and disabled brother to support.

Erik shared meals with Ramses and they spoke of wars and political fiascos infecting the region. Men like Klaue made the problems worse, but many Angolans were caught trying to survive any way they could. Men like Ramses tried to minimize harm to their families. Klaue paid well, and sometimes men were killed in his employ, but Ramses had survived three years and counting. A month's salary from Klaue could keep Ramses and his family afloat for six months.

The night before Erik was to fly into Botswana, he snuck another peek at Yani's timeline under a new fake social media account. More pictures of Sydette. More pictures of Yani at the beach posing in swimsuits. Provocative shots. Showing too much in Erik's opinion.

There was one of her in an orange two-piece that made her skin look like magic as she sat back with a smile on her face, her legs open on wet sand, foamy high tide water rolling up to the apex of her thighs, her fat vulva barely covered. His face got a little tight looking at the picture. He enlarged it so he could see the outline of her pussy lips clearer. He wanted to send her a DM telling her to stop sharing photos like that, but she would know it was him. Niggas online were getting an eyeful and he was hanging on by a thread trying to get back to her so he could taste that juicy center of hers once more. He was tired of being just another faceless digital creep jerking off to her photos. He did that more often than he cared to admit. That pussy had sat on his dick once. Albeit fully clothed, that covered slit was made for him, and he couldn't wait to lift her up again and drop her down on his shit raw. Put her ass to sleep.

Klaue acted on edge the entire flight to Botswana. No, not on edge. Hungry. Hungry for some grand scheme that would satiate the greed that would never leave him. The greed permeated all that Klaue touched. Made him reckless with decisions.

Erik had been to Botswana twice before, and each time felt sketchy, to say the least. Something about the smallness of the place made him cautious. In other countries on the continent, Erik felt that one could seamlessly blend in and disappear, but with this place, there was no telling what familiar face on the mercenary circuit could pop up…friend or foe. Or both in the same individual.

They stayed two nights in a hotel near the Zimbabwe border doing touristy things like they were a group of buddies on holiday. Klaue wanted to arrive at the border post right when it was evening, that way if they sensed problems with the meet-up, they could implement an escape and evasion plan. Each man had emergency cash sewn into their utility belts in case something happened and they were separated. Erik had several thousand British pounds and a fake passport in his belt. The jeep they rented from a local had plenty of gas to get them to their meet-up. They reached the customs post and waited in line behind two Scottish blokes who were hitchhiking through Zimbabwe.

"Sir, these men need a ride to a hotel. Could you give them a lift?"

The short customs official had a pleasant face as he asked Klaue to assist the strangers. Klaue gave a wide grin that showed off his gold-rimmed teeth.

"No problem!" Klaue said.

The short custom official looked pleased and set about getting the proper customs documents that they would need for their jeep to cross the border. Erik felt calm as he watched the sun dip low on the horizon. Darkness would be their friend. This customs dude just needed to step up his paperwork game so they could leave quickly and be on their way.

"Shit," the customs guy said.

Erik and the other men watched him closely.

"I am sorry, I don't have the papers here to document your vehicle properly—"

"Just have one of them drive you over to the other border and bring back some extra forms," another customs official said looking bored as he scratched the back of his neck.

Klaue jumped at the chance to do it. It would mean that their vehicle would probably avoid being checked. Klaue and Limbano had some weapons stashed in the paneling of the doors. Erik agreed to go with Klaue and have Limbano and Iverson stay behind.

The ride over was punctuated with Klaue talking way too much to the customs agent. Erik felt like over-talking was suspicious, but he kept his mouth shut and kept his eyes on the road.

Arriving at the control point at the other border-crossing, Erik and Klaue stepped out and followed the agent as he went to retrieve their needed papers. Things were already feeling off, and Erik kept his eyes on Klaue who was less loquacious. Standing near the desk of an on-duty policeman, Erik noticed a full-faced photo of Klaue and Limbano. Right there, out in the open. Descriptions and a listing of their crimes. Fucking wanted posters smack dab in the middle of a border checkpoint. Probably had one of Erik under theirs too. All the check-points probably had the same flyers everywhere.

The policeman hadn't made the connection of the photo with the man before him and Erik slid over to Klaue.

"There's a wanted poster of you and Limbano," Erik whispered.

"Shit," Klaue said when his eyes spotted his mug shot.

"They shopped your ass and we walked right into it," Erik said under his breath while avoiding eye-contact with Klaue. A loud jangling phone rang in back of the customs office and the policeman glanced at the flyer on his desk and then up at Klaue. His eyes went back to the photo again and then things clicked.

"It's him! It's him!" The policeman jumped up and yelled for someone to bring a gun. Uniformed officials swarmed around them.

"There are two more over at checkpoint three," said the customs agent that rode over with him, his voice giddy with excitement. Chatter on a police radio alerted their Zimbabwe counterparts that Klaue had been apprehended. Erik focused his breathing to stay even. Within twenty minutes, Limbano and Iverson were brought in, all of them now in police custody. Erik did his best not to think of all the years he put in to get to Wakanda and to have that goal bashed because he would now do time in a Botswana prison because of his ties to his secret enemy. His mind immediately went to his Uncle Bakari in D.C. He would be allowed to have a lawyer and he wanted his Uncle to represent him since his specialty was International Law. More practical calculations swam in his head. He had to get the fuck away from here. He didn't want to lose Klaue over his reckless stupidity and greed, but he also had to think of his own well-being. His own survival. Without Klaue, getting into Wakanda would prove more difficult, but not impossible.

The four of them were crammed into the jeep they had driven over in. Police vehicles escorted them from the front and back over to a larger local police base. Their car was searched and their weapons were found in the door paneling. Shit was just too smooth. Erik wondered if this bust was part of the set up to have him killed in Benin.

Erik exchanged glances with Klaue, Iverson, and Limbano. It was do or die time. He noticed that none of the officers had guns on them, just two that stood near the vehicles and the main office door. The longer they were there, the faster their lives would be put in danger. Erik's Special Forces training kicked in. Rule number one: don't waste fucking time.

Erik sucker-punched the official right next to him. Klaue and the others did the same quickly knocking the men down. They all made a run for the tall security gate that divided the two countries. Erik was in top shape and reached the fence first, scrambling over it with ease.

Two officials tried grabbing for Klaue and Iverson's legs as they went up, but Lambino helped beat them back before he was scampering up the chain links himself. The falling darkness was their friend as they rushed into the bush on the other side disappearing into the early night, turning into shadows that the officials couldn't see.

They wasted little time putting distance between themselves and the fence. Erik heard the sound of tripped up feet. When he stopped to glance back, he saw Klaue limping.

"My ankle is injured from the fence," he said between gritted teeth, the pain squeezing a few tears from his eyes. Klaue would have to keep moving through the injury or he was a dead man.

"Broken? Torn ligaments?" Erik shouted.

"It just fucking hurts," Klaue said running on it through clenched teeth.

"Keep moving forward. The Zambezi is up ahead. We'll find a boat and get across!" Limbano yelled.

The four men headed in the direction that smelled like water to Erik. Iverson helped Klaue along.

Hope sprung eternal as they found a makorro, a wooden dugout canoe sitting on the bank. Erik and Limbano pushed it out onto the water, and as they all hopped in to make their getaway with the oars lying inside of it, the damn thing sank under them once they were far from the shore.

Treading water in the dark, Erik could see people lining up and down the riverbank screaming at them. Shots rang out and he could hear bullets plopping into the water near them. They had to move further out and downstream. And that brought another immediate danger. Crocs and hippos.

"Fuck!" Iverson screamed.

He'd been hit by one of the bullets whizzing over their heads. Struck in the left shoulder and also grazed on the left side of his head.

"How bad?!" Erik yelled.

"Bullet passed through," Iverson yelped.

"Keep fucking swimming!" Klaue screamed and they all moved along with the strong current of fast-flowing water.

Erik swam like a dolphin but kept his eyes on Klaue to make sure the man survived. He was doing his best with his arms, but his injured ankle made it difficult to keep up. The man struggled but kept swimming.

"Keep going! We can make it!" Erik yelled to encourage the others. He didn't care about Limbano or Iverson. Klaue had to make it out of there with him.

Searchlights scanned the water, and Erik could hear splashing and movement in the current that wasn't coming from humans. Iverson's blood was attracting the large crocs, and Erik was surprised they hadn't been attacked by them yet.

The river itself had to be half a mile across, and Erik kept his eyes on land as the dark water soaked his mouth as he tried to breathe deep to keep his body going. It was terrifying to think that he could be dragged under the current by a hungry fourteen-foot-long and twelve- hundred-pound beast. He worried about the amount of blood loss Iverson was seeping into the river creating a crimson path right to them.

Hours had passed by the time they all made it to Zambian territory, floating through to the dense thickness of a reed bank that stretched out hundreds of yards into the river from the bank. Zimbabwe and Botswana had already rung the alarm in tracking them down. Klaue was worth a pretty penny to whoever ratted him out to the borders. The Zambezi sat conjoined with three countries, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Any and all of those nation-states could want Klaue. Hell, even his own country of South Africa too.

With no machete to slice through the thick reeds, they would each have to force down reeds in front of them, flatten them down as best they could and drag themselves over until they encountered the next standing reeds blocking their ease to dry land. Erik could see torches burning up and down the opposite side of the river as perhaps a hundred men searched for them. Fast boats could be heard and a few seen with spotlights going up and down the water.

He was fucking drained and yet he knew he couldn't stay there. None of them could. The search teams would get closer and closer and the Zambians were already on their side searching. It would only be a matter of time before they were discovered. And Klaue couldn't move for shit. His ankle had swollen up big and he was in immense pain. His anger was just as intense as he whispered to Limbano about who could've sent their photos to the authorities when only the four of them knew about the meetup. Limbano gave his opinion, but Iverson kept quiet, pressing his hand into his wound. The moon was half full and they kept themselves hidden in the reeds, resting for a moment. They were exposed alongside the water. Zambia's militia would find them and take them back into custody if they didn't do something fast. Erik slipped his emergency cell from his utility belt. Klaue did the same.

"I'm not getting reception on mine," Erik said.

"Me neither," Klaue said.

"I lost mine back in the jeep," Limbano said.

"Lost mine in the river," Iverson said. He moaned a bit as he held his body.

"We gotta keep moving," Erik said lifting his hand up to wipe water from his eyes.

"Shh, listen!" Klaue said.

They all remained silent.

Shouts.

They could hear men in the distance. They were getting progressively closer.

"They are being thorough," Klaue said. He moaned low into his chest. His ankle was even more swollen.

Iverson gave out a loud groan.

"Keep it down," Klaue said.

"I'm in pain too!" Iverson shouted.

"Shut the fuck up. You want them to hear you?" Erik said.

For three hours they listened to the voices in the distance grow closer.

"We gotta get back in the water," Erik said.

"I can't!" Iverson howled.

Erik crawled over to the man and shoved him into the water. Iverson flailed his arms and dragged himself back up onto the reeds.

"Shit!" Limbano screeched and Erik jumped just out of reach of a croc that snapped its powerful jaws missing him by inches. He lifted his body and scrambled over to Klaue. The croc lingered for a moment before drifting back down into the water.

Voices.

Much closer. Perhaps a half a mile away.

Erik could face prison time, torture, and death in an African nation that would never care to find his people, or he could try to outswim an ancient cousin of dinosaurs. Choices.

"Fuck it," Klaue said rolling himself back into the Zambezi with a soft plop. Erik searched the water for the crocs. If Klaue's arm was working properly, they could use him for protection. He was useless. Especially with a busted ankle.

"We gotta keep quiet and slip away. No sudden splashing. The croc will ignore us…maybe," Erik said.

Limbano slipped in without hesitation. He had been to prison in West Africa before. Facing a croc was a piece of cake apparently. Iverson was the only holdout.

"I think we should stay here," Iverson said, lifting himself higher into the reeds.

"Suit yourself," Erik said.

Iverson sat up and a cell phone fell out of his fatigue's side leg pocket. Erik reached over and snatched it up.

"You said you lost your phone in the river," Erik said checking the status on the fold-up cell.

"Klaue," Erik said. He tossed the cell to the man who caught it.

Klaue glanced at the phone, then over at Iverson.

"Coordinates, mate? This is all your doing?" Klaue asked.

"I thought I lost it…those…those are just coordinates to help get downriver—"

"Stop," Erik said.

Iverson was part of the crew out to get Erik and Klaue. Iverson was a pawn.

Klaue gave Erik a look. Erik nodded at him before his arms shot out and grabbed Iverson dragging him into the water.

"Don't! Wait a minute-!"

Erik ignored Iverson's pleas and shoved his head down into the river water. After ten seconds he lifted the man back up. Iverson thrashed wildly, and Erik positioned his arms and hands on the man to calm him.

"Chill, Iverson. We just want to know who put you up to this," Erik whispered in his ear.

"No one put me up to anything—"

Erik twisted the man's head, breaking his neck.

"Croc!" Klaue shouted. Erik pushed Iverson's limp body into the maw of the river beast and the three of them pushed away from the reeds to put distance between themselves and the feeding frenzy that the croc was enjoying shredding Iverson's flesh and bones before it dipped below the surface with the remains.

###

Exhaustion held him in a twilight of life and death. All three men floated on their backs as the current carried them downriver once more. For once in his life, Erik thought he might actually fail. So much of his plans depended on keeping Klaue alive, that Erik forgot that he had to stay alive himself.

Clutching onto Klaue's arm and helping the man stay afloat, Erik considered letting him go. Surrounded by killers, crocs, and deadly hippos, Erik contemplated swimming to shore and just walking out of the bush. He could very well blend into an African population. His picture wasn't the one plastered on wanted posters. They wanted two white men from South Africa.

"Shit."

Erik's thoughts distracted him and he had let go of Klaue for a second. The man's eyes were so done. Erik made the decision to go back to the bank and find a place to hide in the bush. The river would kill them all if they stayed in the swirling vicious waters. He grabbed for Klaue again to help the man focus. Limbano helped him and they finally made it on dry land just as dawn was breaking. They didn't even know what country they were in, losing all sense of direction after being in the river all night.

Erik rolled over onto his back closing his eyes tight.

Rest.

That's what he needed.

His body gave into complete exhaustion and right before he drifted away, he thought of Yani. His eyes caught the shimmery light of the new day's sun and when it struck the river, his bone-weary mind created a mirage of her, swimming nude in the Zambezi river, beckoning for him to follow her. That sly smile on her lips, the sway of her hips, the jiggle of her backside held him in a peaceful dreamlike state as his body slowly powered down.

Goddess, that was the nickname Tahir had given Erik's woman. There she was, swimming in the swirling murky river water, breasts still full from the milk she carried for their daughter. He smiled at the thought. Name it and claim it. Sydette was his. No one could tell him different.

Voices again.

Closer.

They weren't going to make it. Klaue was too far gone with his leg. He and Limbano were too tired to fight off anyone, limbs water-logged and limp.

"You're not ever coming back, are you?"

Her last words to him.

He struck the damp earth with his right fist. He had let that girl down. Gave her false hope by letting her see his face, and now he was never going to see her again.

His eyes drifted back to the river and the sun pierced his retinas, burning the sight of her back again. She was still there, his Yemanja, hands still waving toward him.

"Baby…" he whispered before blacking out.

###

"Killmonger…"

Erik shot straight up, Yani's voice in his ear.

Eyes darting around, he saw Klaue and Limbano passed out on the bank near him. He checked his watch. Four hours. He had been out for four hours. Yani's voice woke him up. It sounded like her lips were right near his ear as if she had been sleeping next to him and wanted him to wake up suddenly.

Jumping up, Erik took a moment to listen for the noise of his would-be captors.

Quiet.

The silence unnerved him, but he had to take a chance and go look for help in escaping. He left Klaue and Limbano behind and trudged through the bush. He found a well-traveled road and before he could hide, a Range Rover pulled up.

"Hey!" The driver said. For a split-second Erik almost ran, but he recognized the driver. He was a ranger that Klaue had introduced him to back at the hotel they stayed in Botswana. Shit, they were back on the side of the river and country they had started from.

"Looks like you've been swimming my friend," the driver said. Tim. That was his name.

"Yeah, wasn't by choice though. Can you give me and my friends a ride back to our hotel? We have money," Erik said.

"Hop in!"

"Give me a few minutes," Erik said.

Tim pulled the Range Rover over and waited.

"Where have you been?" Klaue said when he saw Erik running like a mad man back to the river's edge.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Erik said lifting Klaue up and helping him keep weight off of his bad foot. Limbano assisted him and it didn't take long to make it back to the Range Rover.

Sitting in the back of the vehicle, knowing that disaster was averted, he couldn't help but think of Yani and Sydette. His vision of Yani had woken him up and tried to keep him awake. He was convinced of this. There was no way beyond blind luck that he would have woken up in time to catch Tim out on the road. It could've been anyone driving, the police, another search party after them…but this guy who happened to know Klaue was the one to see him stumbling out from the bush. This was Yani's doing. Had to be. Whatever connection, whatever strong attachment he had made with her…her spirit woke him up.

She had saved him.

But because of Iverson and whoever pulled his strings, Erik couldn't go back to her. Not yet.

The scenery passed by from the backseat and he pressed his face against the glass. His eyelids squeezed tears out and he wiped them away before the other men saw them.

"Yani, I'm trying," he whispered into the glass before he fell asleep once more.

###

"Yani, mail!"

Leona called to her from the kitchen in the apartment. Fixing her work heels on her feet, Yani stepped into the kitchen. A small brown package with her name and address sat on the kitchen table. No return address, but the forever stamp was dated with markings from Brazil.

She opened the package being careful not to chip her nails. Work at the restaurant had been busy and she was making a lot of tips that allowed her to splurge on some nice things for herself like getting her nails done professionally. Since there was no more work at Klaue's compound, she could indulge in making herself pretty without fear of damaging the costly nail job.

"Your hair looks nice," Leona said.

"It doesn't look too weird straight like this?"

"Just different. And it's just slicked down, not really straight. I like the lines you cut in it too," Leona said touching Yani's scalp. Sydette sat in her high chair staring at Yani while her fingers stuck mashed bananas into her mouth from her Dora The Explorer bowl.

She wanted to try something new with her hair to try and perk up her spirits. New hairstyle. New nails. New work dress.

Soft purple tissue paper was encased inside bubble wrap. When she pulled it all out there were two blue velvet boxes and a small light blue envelope stuck to one of them. She opened the envelope and read the card inside. Her heart fluttered.

"Yani,

Another early birthday present for Sydette and something for you as well. Tell Sweet Pea I miss her too. And you. E.K."

Yani opened both boxes. Diamond earrings. Real diamond earrings. A mother and daughter set.

"Who send you that?" Leona asked staring at the expensive gifts.

"Killmonger," Yani whispered.

She clutched the boxes to her heart.

###

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]  [Part 4]  [Part 5]  [Part 6]  [Part 7]  [Part 8]   

[Part 9]

Tag List:

@fonville-designs​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling @chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry  @honeytoffee

[keeroo92]

Fire and Ice

Here’s my submission for @whumptober2019 number three, “Delirium”. Also included are the alternate prompts 2 (Broken voice), 3 (Fever), and 9 (Hiding)

Featuring Vergil and Dante. Enjoy!

Word count - 1,702

______

Dante sighed and grabbed the bags of take out from the passenger seat. Tubs of liquid so hot they would’ve burned anyone without his heritage sloshed as he headed to the front door, heavy containers of meat and veggies in the second bag. Pho wasn’t his favorite, but it wasn’t too bad with enough hoisin.

“Vergil, I’m back!” he called, dropping his keys on the table.

Silence greeted him and his lips twisted into a frown. Vergil wasn’t doing well; a rare strain of flu forced him to stay in bed for the last few days. His fever was over one hundred degrees that morning and he hadn’t been able to keep any food down. Hopefully the pho would do the trick, but Dante was worried.

He set the food on his desk and trotted to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time as he called his brother’s name again. As before, there was no response.

Damnit, Verge… answer me, will ya?

A deep thud quickened his steps. That couldn’t be a good sign. His heart twisted in concern as he reached his brother’s door and knocked.

“Vergil, you okay in there?”

Nothing.

Shit.

He tried the handle. It was locked.

“Let me in, douchebag!”

A second heavy thud was the only reply. Dante cursed under his breath and pounded on the door once more, by now unsurprised by the lack of response. He stepped back and considered his options.

Shooting the handle or breaking down the damned thing entirely wouldn’t be difficult; he had no clue where the master key was. What a mess. He growled in annoyance and tried one last time.

“If you don’t unlock the door, I’m breaking it!”

All he heard was his own breathing. The threat of property damage always got a response in the past; something had to be terribly wrong. What if Vergil wasn’t answering because he couldn’t? What if his fever was worse? How high did it need to be to be dangerous? The man in red didn’t know and it scared him all the more for its ominous mystery.

Dante took a deep breath and shifted, his skin erupting in tough armor and flashing to red and black. Leathery wings sprouted from his shoulders and the taste of ash filled his mouth. He growled and stepped back to the opposite wall, bracing his claws in the carpet.

The door crumpled at his bull rush, splinters of wood scattering across the room. He shifted back the second the clattering ended with a deep exhalation, sapphire eyes already scanning the room for a familiar head of swept back hair.

His jaw dropped at the state of the room. Books lied on every available surface, some still open as if forgotten partway through reading. Piles of dirty clothing were heaped by the closet, empty glasses on the headboard. Tangled sheets covered the normally pristine bed, pillows arranged in a haphazard pattern. It smelled of sweat and sickness.

Never had he seen the room in such disarray.

But where’s Vergil?

He checked all the familiar spots; the chair by the window, the desk by the bedside, that patch of carpet Vergil paced upon whenever his mind needed to work. With every vacant space, his worry grew. He’d never needed to take care of anyone but himself, so the concept still felt strange, but his brother wasn’t well. He couldn’t take care of himself.

“Vergil?”

A miniscule rattle drew his gaze to the closet. Why in the world would he be in there?

It didn’t matter. It was his only hint.

The closet opened with a creak of complaint. Panting breaths echoed in the air and as Dante’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart fell to the floor. There was Vergil, knees at his chin and arms wrapped around them. Yamato lied beside him, within easy reach but his brother didn’t seem aware of it. His eyes were wide open, vacantly staring at the opposing wall as if it held the secrets of the universe.

“Aw, shit, Verge… c’mere.”

Dante tugged at his twin’s arm, his eyes widening as it limply dropped to the floor. Whatever was happening in the other man’s mind must be intense, for him to be lacking his usual resistance. He crouched down and shuffled closer to feel his forehead, recoiling as it scorched him.

Fuck. I gotta cool him down somehow…

He retreated to douse a towel with cool water, bringing it to his brother’s boiling flesh upon his return. Steam rose from where cloth met skin, a sizzling noise accompanying every dab. The towel didn’t last long; within minutes it was dry and he tossed it aside with a scowl.

“I’m gonna move you, it’d be nice if you didn’t stab me,” he grumbled. He doubted Vergil heard him, but it couldn’t hurt.

Dante grasped his brother’s shoulders firmly, grunting as he dragged the man from his dark hiding place. His empty look didn’t shift as he heaved him into a fireman’s carry and headed for the bathroom. A soft exhalation was the only signal of Vergil’s continued incoherence as Dante carefully set him on the cold tile, doing his best to avoid burning his fingers.

Demon flu, maybe? Is that a thing? I swear if I catch this, I’m gonna be pissed.

Dante snorted. It was probably too late for that. He shook his head and started the bath, turning the dial completely to the cold side. Now for the really fun part.

It took several minutes of curses and singed fingers, but finally Vergil was left in only his briefs. No matter how sick he got, there was no way in hell Dante was taking off his brother’s underwear. He had his limits.

“All right, this would be way easier if you helped me out,” he said. As expected, Vergil didn’t respond.

Dante sighed and covered his hands with a towel. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would protect him from the worst of it. If not, he’d heal in a few minutes, but pain never got more fun. He braced himself and grappled Vergil into the cool water, splashing an absurd amount over the edge with his efforts.

Once his brother was settled, Dante took a perch on the toilet. Steam rose from the water, the area around his hands and feet reaching a low boil. The red-clad man added more water every time Vergil’s heat boiled too much away, staying by his side for hours and waiting for any change.

He jumped when Vergil spoke at last.

“It… it cannot be…”

The fuck is he yammering about?

Icy eyes darted around the bathroom, landing at last on Dante’s face. He offered a sheepish grin but his twin only snarled in return. A haze of confusion still clouded his expression.

“Im- impossible. She’s dead!”

Lithe but powerful arms slashed at the empty air, attacking an invisible foe. Dante dodged with practiced ease.

“Vergil! It’s me, calm down!”

“Begone, I will not succumb to trickery!”

More water sprayed onto the tile as Vergil thrashed. His hands cracked against the wall and Dante lunged forward, grabbing his skull before it followed suit. He bit his lip and held on as his brother writhed, battling the demons of his mind.

Damnit, quit freaking out!

By the time Vergil calmed, Dante’s arms were aching from holding his head for so long. Two of Vergil’s fingers splayed at unnatural angles and bruises marked him in several spots. Blue met blue as the two brothers’ eyes locked.

“D- Dante?”

“Hey, Verge,” he replied, lowering his sore limbs. Never had he heard Vergil sound so broken, his voice a low croak. “You back now?”

The elder Sparda glanced at the marks lining his arms, taking in his injuries with a disapproving sneer. He cradled his broken fingers and closed his eyes. “I think so.”

Dante leaned back, stretching his shoulders. “Good. You uh, ya had me worried for a sec.”

The man in the bathtub scoffed. “I didn’t realize you had the capacity for such things.”

He snorted. Vergil must be feeling better. A cautious hand went to check his temperature by shoving his shoulder; it felt warm still, but far less so. Progress.

“You should’ve heard the crap you were saying.”

Vergil flinched, his eyes lowering to stare at the water. The expression of vulnerable sadness shocked Dante; his brother wasn’t prone to fits of openness. It was rare to glimpse the man beneath the stoic exterior.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Vergil leaned back, resting his head on the wall as he lowered his mangled fingers into the cold water with a deep sigh. “I imagine you’ll pester me until I do.”

Dante chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, probably.”

His brother clenched his jaw and clicked his tongue, gathering his thoughts before he spoke again. “I was in the Underworld. Mundus was coming.”

“So, you hid in the closet?”

A curt nod was the only response. Dante knew better than to prod at that wound any further. He hummed and crossed his arms, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. Did he have the nerve to ask? How could he not?

“You mentioned a woman, too. Was… was it mom?”

Vergil shook his head and muttered, “No, someone else. You didn’t know her.”

A long moment passed in silence, each brother lost in memories of those they’d lost years ago. Eventually, Vergil broke the spell.

“Don’t you have better things to do than sit here and bother me?”

“Not really. But if you leave the door unlocked I’ll go,” Dante replied.

Another curt nod. “Agreed.”

The legendary devil hunter grunted as he rose, his tired body complaining after sitting in the same position for so long. He yawned and stretched, cracking his sternum as he walked away. Halfway out the door, he paused.

“There’s pho, if you’re hungry. Don’t drown.”

A final scoff was his answer and he smirked as he clicked the door closed. Only time would tell if the worst of Vergil’s illness was over. The thought of repeating the last few hours made him cringe. Stripping his twin once was enough, thank you very much.

[physicsandfandoms]

I'm doing Nanowrimo this year. Not for original fiction though, I'm going to attempt to finish a first draft of a Post-Order 66 OC Jedi fanfic that I began plotting out a full ten years ago when I was a freshman in high school.

Currently it has 23,559 words. Nanowrimo is supposed to be 50,000 words, so by the end of the month I should have 73,559 words.

I'll probably post progress stats here every few days. I don't fully understand the Nanowrimo website, but my username is Augustine94 if anyone wants to add me there.

My working title is Umbra (not to be confused with Umbara in TCW, there’s no relation there, these are the perils of writing something over a ten year period I guess) An umbra is the dark center portion of a shadow of an eclipse, which I feel is an appropriate name for something taking place shortly after the fall of the Republic. It also conveniently works out that any pre/post fic shorts I write can be grouped as Penumbra since that’s the outer part of an eclipse’s shadow.

I went through the various character and whatnot tags I’ve been using for this and added the tag “Umbra” to everything, and that’s probably the general tag I’ll use going forward. I might post snippets or talk about story issues in addition to my word counts in the coming month.

For the past few months I’ve gotten more serious about getting things planned out so that I can just write this month. That has brought a couple of realizations. The first being that some things that I plotted out ten years ago about early oppression of the Empire are particularly #yikes today just because what I wrote then is now pretty much business as usual for the US today when it comes to how casual acceptance of early fascism becomes. 

The other thing I’ve realized is how much these characters and this story was about me grappling with the abuse I faced in middle school. I’ve talked about bits and pieces of it before, but let’s just say that bad shit happened, and there were adults in my life who were aware of it and didn’t do anything. So ten years ago when I started this, an important aspect was that throughout all of this hell that the padawan (Khlora) is going through, she does have a mentor, her Jedi Master (Cy). Even if he can’t fix everything, he’s at least there. I’ve been working with a friend of mine who is a screenwriter to refocus that, and I’m really happy with the theme that we’ve pulled out of this, which is surviving trauma and what it looks like to put your life back together after that. There’s more to it than that, but there is something really important to me on a personal level about having that be a theme when these characters originally came out of a really scared and hurting place that I was in when I first wrote the names “Cy” and “Khlora” in a composition book sitting in my high school lobby.

Anyway, here goes in finally getting a first draft completed! I always welcome questions or people who want to chat about my OCs, or the fic in general.

[liathgray]

Okay what about dick Almost drowning and one of the other boys saving him and then they have to sit in the cold for evac but its taking /so damn long/ and the batbro is trying so hard to keep dick (and themselves) awake and coherent and warm, of course only if you want to

The horribly familiar sound of a knife sinking into spun steel was like hearing a nail rammed into a coffin. Dick felt the give of his line, the one that was— will have been — wrapped firmly around the landing skid of a pitch-black helicopter packed full of stolen viruses and software that had to potential to collapse half the worlds economy in less then a year. As the machine rose higher, it’s blades beating gravity down with a vengeance, Dick could feel his line shiver under the stress. It was splintering and his stomach dropped at the sight of the dark expanse of water below him. They’d flown out of their way to get rid of him.Permanently.Dick’s rope was already at its end, there was no getting closer to lessen the impact onto the… the ice.Of course the water was half frozen over.Fucking Gotham.

The one night he agreed to cover for Tim and it might be his last.Wonderful.Frantically he started trying to pull a flare from his belt, hastily sending a distress beacon as he went about wrenching at the cap with his teeth.His arm was going numb as the last wire holding his aloft began to fray.Dick yanked off the activation tab and plummeted downwards.Wind pulled at his hair and lungs, stealing his breath as quickly as it did his ground above the harbour.He tried to aim his back downwards but the rushing air continually pushed his head towards to rapidly approaching tundra.It was getting closer.Too close.Way too close.And with the closeness of the freezings waters and sheet of ice came the dawning realization that he wasn’t getting out of this.With only meters between him and hypothermia, Dick let out a desperate shout, twisting near violently to get his feet under him before a sickening crunch reached his ears.He felt his bones shattering, not clean breaks, pressing hard against his skin.In the micro second before he was plunged beneath the surface, the sheer amount of immediate pain knocked any remaining breath from him.The ice broke on impact, sending him in chilled waters.Dick’s body went ridged to the cold and he felt the fatigue settling into his limbs at an unprecedented pace.He was sinking. Fast.He couldn’t even force himself to move as water bit into his skin and pulled him deeper.Would they ever find his body?Dick felt a burn in his lungs, and the panic of being unable to breath spurred his muscles to draw on some reserve of adrenaline he apparently had.It had been, what, two minutes under now? Three?He couldn’t think straight.Dick tried to kick upwards to the shrinking dot of moonlight.Bad move.Pain radiated up his form from his broken legs.He placed a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging from the sudden sickness bubbling in his throat.Everything felt hot inside and frostbitten outside.He was starting to curl in on himself, nearly choking on the water slipping between his teeth and into his lungs.Everything hurt.He was tired and his vision was tilted.Dick blinked hard, trying to focus on that pinpoint of dull light that was rapidly vanishing.He was pushing six minutes, vision tunnelling and hazy buzz filling his ears.Slowly Dick pulled his hand away from his mouth, watching with horrified amusement as little bubbles rose from his lips, leaving him to suffocate. Distantly he heard thumps tracking above him, like footsteps, but…But it‘s so dark.He‘s exhausted.If he just closes his eyes for a second… just for a second… just for… just…

———————————————————

Heavy boots pounded against the ice of Gotham Harbour, steel toes leaving a trail of cleaved footprints.It was thick ice, about three and a half inches, which means it was thin enough to break with too much force but dense enough to do serious damage if you were dropped from a helicopter roughly ten stories up. Like Dick had been.The distress call had come in about five minutes ago, Jason had been two away.He’d arrived just in time to see a trail of pale yellow smoke following after something small and dark as it slammed into the mix of ice and liquid nitrogen. Followed by dreaded silence.No shouts, no splashes or gasps.Just silence.The three and a half inches of ice wasn’t thick enough to support his bike so he went on foot, cursing all the way.They damned ‘copter had flown nearly eight hundred yards out to drown their tail.Dedication, he had to admit, but it was about to get Dick killed.Differences aside, Jason doesn’t hate his predecessor. Thats not to say he’d really go out of his way for him, but he cares. Enough to hang out together every few weeks, enough to give a hand on a case or raid, and enough to not want him dead.Jason skidded to a stop at the fracture in the sea of tinted ice. Spiderwebs of cracks splintered out several feet from the hole, ones that would definitely give way under Jason’s weight.“Crap.”He yanked off his helmet and started tugging frantically at the sleeves of his jacket.As he stripped off a sweatshirt, his eyes were roaming with determination (desperation) around the landscape, looking for something— anything —sturdy.His eyes settled on a buoy frozen in place not to many paces away. With the press of a button he extends the entirety of his grappling line, the hooked end of which was tied onto the thin metal railing of the buoy, and the grip held tightly in his palm.“Okay,”He kicked off his boots, “okay. This’ll work. This’ll- yeah. Okay.”He put a rebreather between his teeth and jumped.Through the stinging cold, Jason swam down, drawing in as measured breaths as were to be expected in a situation this stressful. It was getting harder to see, his hands were numbing in the water.And he couldn’t see Dick.Silt and murk were muddling his vision and he was starting to panic.He was running out of time.Frantically he kept plunging downwards, slowing losing all sense of ocular awareness and relying mostly on touch to search for Dick’s body- for Dick.His hand brushed something solid and cool.Jason grabbed hold and pulled upwards, feeling along the form ‘til he had one arm hooked under his shoulder and held steady against his own chest.His line went taunt and began dragging two up.They broke the surface unceremoniously without shouts of victories or even a sputtering gasp.Jason spat out the rebreather and hauled Dick out of the water.He wasn’t breathing.“Shit.”The younger man tore off his glove and held two fingers to his neck.Weak pulse. Definitely filled his lungs with water on the trip down.And he’s not fucking breathing-Jason pulled Dick further from the weakened ice.He tilted the older vigilantes head upwards, pinching his nose and blowing air back into his lungs.On some level, it felt like he was defiling his, well, his brother. He should’t have to be doing this, having to do fucking rescue breaths for a comrade. He should’t have to think about him drowning or anyone else being killed every night. He could feel just how cold Dick’s skin was and the unnatural paleness to his complexion looked ghastly.“C’mon, dickhead.” He huffed, hysteria edging into his voice.“You’re too stubborn to go out like this.” A wet, strangled cough jerked through Dick’s chest, water bubbling from his mouth as he lurched onto his side.A wave of relief washed over Jason.He placed one hand on Dick’s upwards facing shoulder and the other on the small of his back to keep him steady.For minutes he sat there, keeping his brother in place as he threw up what had to be several liters of water.It was only then that Jason realized Dick was missing his mask.Probably loosened and tugged away by the will of the harbour. When the sickness seemed to pass, Jason straightened.“Hey,” he said, tightening his grip in a hopes to ground the other, “you with me?”Dick was out of it, clearly. His eyes were clouded and expression blank, but communication is helpful even if half-ass and uncertain.“Y-yeah,” he responded shakily, bracing one hand beneath him and trying to sit up.“I- shit,” Dick turned to the side and heaved. Once the tension and strain in his muscles from emptying his stomach faded, Dick practically folded in on himself.“Hey!” Jason shot forward, only just managing to kept him upright, sorta, letting the older lean against his side, an arm wrap firmly around his shoulder, “Dick? Hey, Don’t black out on me.”He heard the dull, rattling breaths plowing through Dick’s chest. The intense shivers and chattering teeth.“W-w-won’t,” he forced out between the chills running through him.“Good, cause we really gotta go.“ He snatched his jacket and sweater and off the ground, hastily wrapping Dick in both and shoving his feet into his— blessedly —dry boots.“You were under way too long and I’d rather get back before someone jacks my bike-““J-jay.” Dick interrupted breathlessly, “I c-c-c,” he swallowed back a gag and tried again.“I can’t.”Jason looked down, startled and a little confused, “What?”“M-m-my legs. I… F-fuck.”“Your… Oh.”Jason looked and felt something heavy drop in his stomach. A stone, maybe an anvil.“Christ…”They weren’t just broken. They looked like straws that some kid had been using like pipe-cleaners.Jason could feel icy beads dripping from his face as he stared in— in horror —at the mangled limbs.Possible nerve damage, months in casts and double the time in rehab. A hand was weakly pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.“Can’t wa-walk.”Dick was practically panting from the effort it took to speak, looking at Jason with tired, hazy eyes. Jason had a tendency to get tunnel vision, that was no secret. Added to the fact that he had been trying to, in effect revive, a sibling and you’re gonna have a preoccupied and shortsighted Jason. But this was something he shouldn’t’ve missed.“That’s… that’s fine. It’s not too far out. I can pull your dumb ass back in, ‘kay?”Dick stared at him blearily, blinking hard like he couldn’t get things into focus before nodding.Jason, still sitting back on his knees, drew Dick’s arms around his neck, holding them together at his sternum.“This is probably gonna hurt like hell but try not to move.”He slowly dragged himself and his brother up, wincing all the while because he could feel Dick pressing his forehead into his back and gritting his teeth hard enough to chip them. His breaths were coming in choked gasps and his shoulders were shaking worse then before.“You alright?” Jason asked.“No,” Dick replied weakly, “go.”He complied, taking long strides across the ice and peppered snow, hoping once again that no one stole his bike because otherwise they were screwed.Jason did all he could to ignore the crescents being cut into Dick’s palm as to refrain from crying out.About halfway across, Jason stumbled. His stupid boot had dug a rut into the ground and he tripped.The epitome of grace.As he regained his footing, he heard the sound of a breath hitching from his passenger. “W-why’re you ca-arryin’…” Dick shifted in his hold, “I-“ Jason felt some of the, weight lifted off his shoulders. As in, the literal weight.“Wh- Shit! Stop it!” Dick dropped back down, with what was dangerously close to being a sob. “Your legs are fucked, idiot! Did you forget about that?!” Jason shouted, feeling the first inkling of fear-driven anger bubbling in his stomach.“My..? Oh.”The confusion rolling from Dick was palpable.Jason began to trudge forward, fixing his gaze ahead where he could see his bike waiting.“H-head h’rts…”Dick mumbled between the intense inhales racketing his chest. “I know man, I know. Just keep your eyes open.”Memory loss. Bad sign. He was getting less coherent, which meant the wet uniform was making Dick quite accommodating to hypothermia.He pressed on, almost smiling when they reached his bike.But before he had the chance, he notice something.Some sick, twisted version of karma, or the universe just messing with him. Playing a gross practical joke.The fucking tires were missing.“Damnit!” He growled, kicking the absolutely useless vehicle.“What..?”He breathed out hard, eyes darting about for any signs of civility.Apparently, not to many decent people are hanging around this particular abandoned waterfront at three am.“Nothing, it’s nothing we-… we’re just gonna have to wait a bit.” He spotted a small tackle shop, about the size of those ticket booths at carnivals. Quickly as he could, Jason made his way over and kicked in the door.It was covered with layers of dust and mostly empty, save pile of well-loved plaid shirts and an old sign. The letters were too faded to make out, but it didn’t really matter.He ducked inside and pushed the busted up door shut, leaning the sign against it to keep out unwanted wind.Cautiously he let down his brother, leaning his back against a wall in a mostly upright position.Luckily Dick was still conscious.And feeling ever ounce of pain Jason inadvertently inflicted.“J-j-jay.”He stuttered, looking frustrated all the while.“Dickhead.” He deadpanned, leaning over to inspect the damage on his legs, and boy was it bad.“Hell. We’re gonna have to immobilize your legs Dick.”He pulled out a knife and started tearing the dusty old shirts into long strips.“W-wait,” Dick protested, shaking his head, “jus-s-…”He put a hand behind him to stay upright.Jason happily ignored him, instead choosing to yank the trimming off the door and line them up with Dick’s leg.Who was currently glaring at him through the exhaustion.Jason sighed, shooting the older man an almost pleading look.“Listen we can’t just leave them like this,““Sh-sh-shock.” Dick intervened, “Jay I-… I’ll.” He closed his eyes and tried in vain to slow the volatile rasps coming from his throat. “M’c-cold.”Jason hated the feeling creeping up in him. Just- just helplessness. Utterly helplessness.He’d sent out his own beacon during the trek to the tackle shack, and all he could really do was hope that someone was on their way.He backed away from the mess of skin and shattered bone“Okay.” he raised his hands in a surrender, “Okay, Dick. Just… I’m not gonna touch ‘em, yeah?”He settled besides Dick, allowing their shoulders to press against one another for warmth and maybe his own reassurance.The shaking wasn’t coming in intervals of intensity anymore, it was just a constant hum of trembling.Every few seconds Jason found himself looking down to make sure Dick was still awake. After a while he started to ramble. Not about anything in particular, just because he knew even if he was completely fine and not slowly shutting down due to freezing temperatures, Dick would be falling asleep from the stillness and silence of the room.He draped an arm across Dick’s shoulder and leaned him into his side without a problem and that was kinda the scary part.Even as he pushed through some random idea he had a few nights ago, there was a growing discomfort. Because Dick was always the one talking. He was always the one to protest and make conversation. His brother was an insanely stubborn person. Had he been even a little coherent he would’ve insisted that Jason stay in his comfort zone of almost exclusively touch through combat and antagonist rather then this. This is what scared him.That and the fact that Dick’s lips were so blue they looked pained and his skin looked like wax. “M’tired.” A soft voice broke his train of speech and he was suddenly aware of the absence of gasps and shivering.“Shit,” Jason could feel panic skipping down his spine.Dick’s body is shutting down. “M’really tired.” Breathing is way too shallow. “shit.”Jason shook him slighting, “Don’t sleep.” He demanded, gripping Dicks shoulder tight enough to bruise. Dick didn’t even have the energy to pull away.“Jay… it’s c’ld.”Jason felt like throwing up. Or hitting something. Where the hell are the rest of this stupid towns vigilantes?!A hand weakly held the hem of his shirt, “H’rts…. tired..”“Don’t sleep. Dick, listen to me. Don’t fucking sleep.” He watched uselessly as Dick blinked, long and slow, turning his head to stare up at Jason. “S’rry.”He slumped forward.Jason fumbled to keep him from knocking his head against the floorboards.“Fuck.” He muttered, he voice shaking more then he would ever admit, pulling Dick’s limp form closer in a last ditch attempt to keep him warm.He tucked his brother’s head against his shoulder, keeping one hand against his neck, feeling his pulse as is slowed.He stayed like that, trying not to panic, keeping two fingers firmly pressed into Dick’s clammy skin.Counting the beat drumming gently beneath it. He doesn’t know how long he stayed frozen in place like that. He could barley concentrate on anything other then the cold dread seeping into his stomach.There was a timid knock as someone pushed the door open.“Cass,” he breathed, exhaustion and pent-up fear flooding out. “He’s not- I couldn’t- We gotta go.”She nodded silently, taking a little less then half of Dick’s weight, slinging his arm over her shoulder with an arm on his waist. They pulled him across the snow-specked ground towards an empty, very cracked, road. Jason could hear the roar of a car ringing through the air.“He’ll be okay.” Cass reassured, tapping his hand with her own.“You did what you could.” Jason drew in a sharp breath. “He’s hypothermic and busted to hell.”She huffed, “You did what you could.”“Yeah. Might not be enough.”He watched the Batmobile (still a stupid name…) pull up and he and Cassandra laid Dick inside alongside Jason who Cass insisted needed to go too.“You’re shaking,” she pointed out with a frustrated glare, “and you’re tired.”Jason grumbled but complied. She gave him a hard, somewhat understanding look as the car peeled away. She mouthed a single word as she began to fade from view. “Rest.”Jason sunk down into his seat miserably.Easier said then done.Fucking Gotham.

[lucifer-kane]

kfam - sona au | apparition hunting crew | jack/sammy/ron/luca | bickering old men. @myopicmickey​ gives me rights once more 

Luca, Ron, Sammy, and Jack were all seated in a dark room, it was getting colder as the night wore on and Luca was sprawled out on the floor, leaning up against a concrete wall, staring at the little meter in his hands as it does absolutely nothing. Damn, Sammy was really going to give them all hell later on, laughing once more at how there were no ghosts, apparitions, or whatever the hell else the other three believed in. But yet Sammy was still there, pulled in by his friends a few years back to fool around and do a little YouTube series and a podcast about lesser known haunted sights over the country, and later, some other parts of the world, when they got more established.

Sammy easily was deemed the skeptic, never believe in the shit that was so obviously very real, getting shit from his partner, his best friend, and some other friends, who all believed. Ron was raised on the myths and believed, but he had a more level head about it all when something happened or it didn’t. Jack, well that was an easy one, he believed more than anyone else, except for maybe Ben, but it’s hard to believe anyone could believe in things more than Ben, but Jack came close. Luca was the easy middle ground, he knew the things existed, but a lot of popular attractions were not really haunted, smaller places usually were. Luca also just sometimes knows, and with this place, it was still hard to tell.

Fans of the show liked the dynamic of the main four, how it was two couples together with a lot of differing opinions on the things going on and if they were real. They liked how Sammy’s skepticism wasn’t cruel or rude when talking with the others, how it was fun and he joked around more than anything else, and they liked the dynamic between Sammy and Luca. The two of them butted heads about things more than anything else, Luca trying to scare Sammy in the dark of spooky buildings they were in, making weird noises in the woods when Sammy was alone for an hour or so doing a segment for himself.

It lead to a lot of playful fights and behind the scenes footage of the four in a shared hotel room, Sammy doing anything to get his cold feet or hands onto Luca’s bare back to mess with him in any way possible. Luca would grapple Sammy in a headlock, and it was a sight to see when Sammy was nearly a head taller than Luca, but the other man still managed to do it, pulling him down and practically climbing onto Sammy’s back to playfully choke him out. Even some of the behind the scenes footage and pictures showed off the two in their own room, bickering as they walked around the hotel room, cleaning up or eating for the evening, the bickering was nothing more than playful banter at the differing opinions of what was going on.

Then there was one special video of the four of them in a car, chilling out the morning after a haunt, and you could clearly hear Sammy and Luca going at it, Sammy was teasing Luca at how whatever place they were at wasn’t actually haunted, and Luca straining to look at Sammy from the back seat, babbling about how it was and how it was just a bad day they went, there were things there Sammy you little shithead don’t be an ass. The person on the camera turned to Ron, who was already booking another hotel room, ready to lay on his boyfriend so he wouldn’t go murder Sammy in the next room over.

“I’m gonna go take a walk around, see if I can find anything else.” Luca gets up, stretches, a few bones popping here and there as he does. He looks back to the others, spread out across the shitty little basement they were all in, trying to get some readings.

“Have fun not finding anything.” Sammy snarks, and lets out a little ‘ow’ when Jack elbows him in the side, rolling his eyes fondly. Luca kicks his leg a little bit as he walks by and glares, making his way up the stairs and into the old house propper. It wasn’t that big of a place, made long enough ago where it was more function over form, tiny bedrooms and tiny rooms in general, he made his way to one of the rooms where locals say someone died, yadda yadda yadda, all that stuff. He lays down on the bed after setting up a camera in a corner of the room so he can go chill out on the bed to fuck around on and see if anything showed up.

Luca did feel something in this room more than anywhere else, now at least. It was faint, but there was a small chill, a faint buzzing in the back of his head, and he just felt a little off more than anything. Luca makes a face and puts his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, and evening his breathing out. It wasn’t the hardest thing after that, to know something was there. He could hear the faint beeping of one of his meters or whatever, telling him something was there. But things shifted to him, he could hear the floorboards creaking, and the tap of fingers against the end of the bed, a dip in the mattress, then violent cold on his ankle that makes him shoot up with a shout. In front of him, shocking to even him, was a figure, more noticeable than what even he’s seen in the past.

Luca still can’t tell what it really is, humanoid is the best he can put it. The grip on his ankle doesn’t let up and he yelps as the pressure continues and then almost as fast as it happened, it disappears, the figure along with it. He sits there for a moment, just breathing hard before standing, then instantly dropping back down to the mattress once more as the ankle that was grabbed throbs with a sharp pain.

“Fuck!” Luca grabs his flashlight and turns it on, shining it on his ankle after pulling up his pants leg. “What the fuck!” The bruise is there already, deep black and blue, the shape of a hand around his ankle like a message. This had never happened to him, or any of them before, not even Jack who had experiences in his youth, but those were mostly kind spirits who found the little boy charming. Luca had similar experiences, but also had some more violent ones, but none where he actively got hurt from it. All that he knows now, is that he wants to leave more than anything. He pulls out his walkie talkie and presses the button and says in a rush as he forces himself up again, limping out of the place as he talks.

“I’m leaving, I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m gonna be in the goddamn car.” He says, turning the walkie off before there can be anything else said to him. He opens the back of it, thankful that it had a back large enough for a few people to lay down and chill out, a blanket already down him to flop onto after taking off some of his gear. Luca presses his face into the shitty pillow that was in the back and tries to ignore the throbbing in his ankle for a little while, zoning out as he silently freaks out, waiting for everyone to come out.

Sammy, despite all his jokes and teasing about things not being real, he’s still the first up when he hears Luca’s voice, Jack and Ron in close succession behind him, as the three of them collect their gear and walked out of the house and to the car a little ways away from the front.

Jack is the first though, to clamber into the back of the car, sitting up next to Luca and gently grabbing his arm to shake him back to them slowly.

“Lu? You okay, what happened?” Jack says, voice soft and warm, as it always is. Luca sits up and looks down at his ankle again and pulls up his pant leg up again, showing of the bruise on his ankle.

“What the hell is that?” Sammy says, turning on his flashlight to look at it closer in better light. He gently touches the spots above where the bruise is, gently turning his leg to see the whole thing more.

“What happened?” Ron asks, sitting on the edge of the car, running a soft hand through Luca’s hair, brushing it out of his face. Luca shrugs and makes a face, leaning into Ron’s touch as Jack and Sammy look over the bruise.

“I was just in one of the bedrooms, seeing if there was anything else, you know? Well there sure as fuckin hell was, gave me that.” He nods to the bruise. “That make you believe in anything now Samuel.” Luca shoots at Sammy, twisting his foot in the other man's grasp, pulling away from him bitterly. Luca really has no right to be an asshole right now, but the fear and thoughts going through his mind are getting in the way of anything else.

“Sorry Sammy…” Luca says after a moment and leans over to press his forehead against Sammy’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the other man’s arm.

“I can say I’m a little freaked out now, that’s really fucked up.” Sammy says, pressing his cheek to the top of Luca’s head, turning a bit to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you wanna go to an ER or something? Get it checked out?” Luca shakes his head.

“Not really, I know I probably should, but I think it’s just a bruise that’s gonna mess me up for a couple of days more than anything else, I’ll be fine. I just want to crash in a hotel right now more than anything else.”

“I can get behind that.” Ron says and hops off the back of the car and makes his way to the front. “Let’s go!” The four pile into the car, Jack, Sammy, and Luca all sitting squished together in the back, Luca in the middle of the two, getting smothered, and very happy about it.

They get to the little hotel they’re staying at and take up their small luggage into the room, Luca is the first to claim the shower, only showering long enough to feel clean again, and to wrap his ankle afterwards. Luca lays down in one of the beds, stripping down to his boxers and curling up under the white blanket, face instantly shoving into the fluffed up pillows. Sammy gets a shower next and claims the space next to Luca for the night, settling in behind the other man and wrapping his arms around Luca. Sammy presses a few kisses along Luca’s shoulders and finishes with a soft kiss on his cheek.

“No bickering tonight?” Luca mutters softly, a faint smile in his voice as he tangles their legs together, pressing his hands against Sammy’s against his chest.

“Maybe in the morning.” Sammy says to him, pressing another kiss against his neck before settling in for the night. The two are asleep before Jack and Ron are fully in the room, the other two men going over to the sleeping pair and giving each of them kisses, before settling into the other bed with one another for a night of sleep.

[tenscupcake]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - An Honest Review

I’d like to preface this review by saying I am an unabashed Kingdom Hearts geek. Like, through and through. I played KH1 when I was just a tween, and have picked up a copy every installment since (in some cases, even bought the entire console just to play that one game). I still have CDs of the game soundtracks, a few discs which have nearly burnt out on replay in my car. Sanctuary After the Battle will forever make me cry, whether or not I’m watching the cutscene that goes along with it. I’ve replayed most of the titles multiple times. Wasted away hours on YouTube watching Story So Far recaps and funny commentaries about the games in preparation for KH3. Like millions of other enthusiasts, I have been eagerly and patiently (all right, sometimes not so patiently) awaiting the arrival of KH3 since the moment I first finished KH2 – 13 very, very long years ago.

At around eight o’clock on premiere night, I took my place in line at my local GameStop wearing my Kingdom Hearts t-shirt and pajama pants, brandishing the miniature Kingdom Key clipped to my lanyard. Finally holding that blue case in my hands was absolutely surreal. One of those natural highs it took me hours to come down from. Tears welled up in my eyes at the first few somber piano keys as the title screen faded into view.

Lots of people asked me, in the weeks and even months leading up to the release (because believe me, at any opportunity, I would not shut up about how excited I was about this game), if I thought it would live up to the hype. Pfft, I thought. People outside the KH fandom never understand. Of course it will. Sure, the series has had its weak links, its hiccups (the battle system in COM and the perpetual re-releases of old games with minor tweaks, to name a couple). But with the compelling cinematic storytelling and uniquely delightful gameplay of the main series’ smash hits - KH1, KH2, and BBS – in their repertoire, I knew the team at Square was capable of pulling this off. To me, it was just a given that it would be epic. That playing it would be worth all the years of waiting. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind this game was going to be lit. As. Hell.

I’m only saying all this so as not to give the impression I went into this game looking to find flaws, to nitpick it. Or with the expectation of being disappointed. In fact, quite the opposite.

I wanted to love this game. To me, loving KH games is one of very few constants in my life. I was supposed to love this game. I needed to love this game.

But the truth is, I didn’t.

That statement has been pretty difficult for me to come to terms with.

In what few early reviews and videos I’ve found of people discussing their thoughts on the game, I’ve found fans to be quite split: with some unreservedly loving, others downright hating the game.

I fall somewhere in the middle of the polarized fandom. I did NOT hate the game. It was actually a good, if not great game. But putting it on a sliding scale of satisfaction and disappointment, I would say it’s tipping toward the latter. And as it’s taken me hours of mulling, reading, and discussing with other players to characterize and articulate precisely why, and because I think I owe it not only to the series and the characters therein, but also my younger self to leave no stone unturned, this review is going to be a long one.

I’m finding it easiest to break it down by category:

Graphics.

This game is beautiful. It was sort of a dream come true to meander around in real time with the gorgeously, smoothly animated versions of Sora and the gang that we’d previously only been able to see in the rare cinematic cutscenes at each game’s beginning and end. Most of the Disney and even Pixar worlds and characters are rendered to nearly the same quality as their film counterparts. I often found myself just standing in place for a while, admiring it all. The vivid green landscapes of Corona, the beaches and sprawling sea in the Caribbean, the towering cityscape of San Fransokyo. And walking on water where the sky meets the sea? Stunning.

Gameplay.

All in all, this game is pretty damn fun to play. It was all I thought about during long days at work: I couldn’t wait to jump back into the action. Pounding on Heartless still brings me back to the good old days. And who doesn’t want to run up the side of buildings as Riku and Roxas demonstrated so epically, so long ago, in the World That Never Was? Soar to sky-high Heartless as easily as you can lock onto them? These new movement aspects brought an almost superhero-esque quality to the game, reminiscent of Spider-man’s wall-crawling or Batman’s grappling hook, that, if a bit unrealistic, I found to be immense fun. And compared to previous games, worlds are no longer cordoned off into many separate areas, and with the sheer scale of them, KH3 experiments with a quasi-open-world style that is rather freeing.

I also really appreciate that the character interactions with your party and with NPCs felt much less clunky. For one thing, they FINALLY did away with the press X-to-progress text-only conversations that were so prevalent in previous games, with all the dialogue left to voice actors. Even minor NPCs that only show up one time were given a voice, making every interaction that much more immersive. Transitions from cutscenes to the action were also much more fluid, and Sora and his current teammates talk to one another as you pow around. Even if it’s just a warning from Goofy you’re going the wrong way, or a heads-up from Donald there’s an ingredient or lucky emblem nearby, it was still a new feature I was glad to have.

Combat-wise, this game has a lot going for it. This installment brings nearly all the combat styles we’ve seen up until this point: magic, combos, form changes, flowmotion, shotlock, companion team-ups, and links. And it even introduces a few new ones on top of all this: the ability to swap between three different keyblades at will, and the new Disney parks-inspired attraction commands, where you can summon roller coasters, tea cups, and spinning carousels to your heart’s content. What this enables is for the player to never get bored during a battle. With so many options to choose from in each new enemy encounter, you never have to stick with the same combat style or get stuck in a rut of just mashing X to hack and slash everything. All things considered, Sora’s got some pretty sick moves this time around. Whipping out Thundaza, watching lightning explode across the screen and zap all the enemies in sight with it? Wicked. Floating above the ground, wreaking ethereal, glowing havoc with the Mirage Staff? Awesome. Surrounded by a sea of Heartless, locking onto 32 different targets at once and unleashing a flurry of lasers to slash through them all? Amazing. Thumbs getting fatigued fighting the third maddening iteration of Xehanort? Give yourself a break from the chaos in a giant, technicolor pirate ship, watching it thwack your adversary on every rock back and forth.

On one hand, the hefty damage most of these combat options deal gives the game an almost Ratchet and Clank-esque ‘blowing shit up’ vibe, which is undeniably fun. But, this array of choices does become a double-edged sword. With grand magic, attraction commands, form changes, and team attacks all fighting for space atop the command deck, they tend to pile up quickly. It’s not at all uncommon to rack up three or four different situation commands after only about 30 seconds of fighting. Sometimes, the constant need to make a choice, especially in a busy battle, can be more of a burden than a blessing. Having to shift between situation command selections on top of attacking, blocking, and accessing your shortcuts can be a bit cumbersome.

Unlike in previous games, there also aren’t many consequences for over-using special attacks. In KH2, your drive gauge ran out and needed to be slowly refilled. You also ran the increasingly high risk of morphing into the near-helpless Anti-Sora by relying too much on drive forms. But here, no matter how many times you’ve used a special attack, your MP will reload in a few seconds, and you can easily just ignore the situation command for Rage Form when it pops up. In BBS, it felt like it took a good while to power up to a form change, whereas in KH3 it seems like you can spend just as much time in a powered-up keyblade form change as in regular combat.

And, because so many of these situation commands are so powerful and frequent, they tend to dominate the entire battle, making the combat in the game much easier than previous games. Bordering on too easy. Where in other entries in the main series, I usually had to die several times on each boss in Proud mode before I devised the right strategy to defeat them, I rarely died at all in this game. On the surface, that isn’t such a bad thing. As I like to say a lot of the time, when I play a game “I’m here for a good time, not a hard time.” But there comes a point when the combat is so easy that it no longer gives you that sense of accomplishment when you progress past a tough batch of heartless or a particularly merciless boss – you know, that punching the air, whooping to yourself sort of pride. I was definitely missing that, at times.

Believe it or not, I think the Disney attraction commands, though powerful, and at first hilarious, were a bit too extra. After only a few hours in they just became annoying, and I was doing my best to ignore them when they popped up, even wishing I could turn them off. Now and then, I’d accidentally trigger the Blaster or the raft ride and just roll my eyes while canceling back out of it. Because it doesn’t really feel like you’re doing any fighting, let alone the real-time keyblade-style fighting uniquely special to this series. And forget trying to effectively aim while you’re in one. After a while the only thing I found them useful for was, as I mentioned earlier, taking a break from a fight when you’re fatigued, as they give your thumbs a break and cause you to take much less damage. While they were cool at first, my final impression of this addition to the combat was all flash, no substance.

I was one of the few who actually liked and took advantage of flowmotion in DDD, and was excited to see it brought back here. But this, too, turned out to be mostly another annoyance. I’m not sure if it’s because the actionable objects are so much more spread out in KH3, or because they actually built in restrictions on combos here, but I was unable to keep a flow going at all. After only one successful strike after leaping off a wall or pole, the blue glow of momentum vanished. It didn’t feel like “flowmotion” at all, just a one-and-done special attack that tended to kill any rhythm I had going moreso than facilitate it. So while conceptually and visually it was promising, I unfortunately no longer found it very useful.

Also, and I realize this is completely subjective, but I found the form changes to be stylistically underwhelming overall. I thought the drive forms in KH2 (especially Master and Final) were visually and stylistically cooler, and seemed to have more finesse.

Worlds.

When I was whisked away from San Fransokyo and landed in the final world of the game, I found myself disappointed by the number of worlds I’d been to, expecting there to be a handful more. Though, when I counted the worlds up, the tally was at nine. So I asked myself why it felt like so little, when nine didn’t seem like a small number. But, tallying up the worlds in previous games, KH1 had 13, KH2 had 15, and BBS had 10. Which does put KH3 on the low end of world count. Also, in all three of these previous games (especially KH2 and BBS), you had to return to these worlds more than once, usually unlocking new content and/or areas each time, leading it to feel like there were more worlds than there actually were. Though KH3 has a comparable length of gameplay to complete the story, it definitely does feel like it comes up short in terms of variety of worlds you get to visit. As a result, some of the worlds where you spend 3 or 4 hours at a time can start to feel like they’re dragging on a little bit. And on the flipside of that, there are certain worlds that you technically do visit in KH3 I did not include in the world count, because you are there for such a fleeting amount of time, or in such a tiny portion of the world – e.g. Land of Departure, the Realm of Darkness. Worlds that would have been awesome to get to actually explore! And perhaps the biggest letdown of all, though you get to visit Destiny Islands and Radiant Garden via cutscenes, there is no play time in either. Serious bummer.

As far as the worlds they did choose to include, the selection admittedly left me ambivalent. I was really glad to see Toy Story, Monsters Inc., and Big Hero 6 included, but wasn’t over the moon about any of the others. I was really counting on having a Wreck-It-Ralph world (I mean, how perfect would that be?), and would love to have seen them tackle Zootopia, Wall-E, Meet the Robinsons, or the Incredibles. I’d even settle for a return to Halloween Town (shameless NBC fangirl, what can I say). The Emperor’s New Groove could have been pretty damn funny. Even A Bug’s Life or Finding Nemo could have offered some unique gameplay opportunities. Certainly better content to work with than Frozen, at any rate.

As far as the plot/experience within the worlds, I also found it to be a mixed bag. I did enjoy all of them, even ones I did not expect to enjoy too much (i.e. Frozen and Pirates). Honestly, though, I found myself a bit bored in worlds where they followed the plot of the films too closely, to the point that it felt like an abridged re-hash of the movies. I know they’ve taken this approach before with earlier Kingdom Hearts games, and I may sound like a hypocrite for only critiquing it now. But I think even in stories where they did do this earlier, like Tarzan or Aladdin, they executed the re-tellings more successfully. The plotline was altered just enough to ensure Sora was a part of the action through and through. After playing those games, Sora was indelibly inserted into those films in my head. To where the next time I watched them, I was jokingly asking myself “Where’s Sora?” But that was not the feeling I got here. In worlds like Corona or the Caribbean, Sora was just sort of jammed into the plot where he didn’t really fit. In many of the longer cutscenes, I actually forgot Sora was even there – even forgot I was playing Kingdom Hearts. Sora didn’t really feel needed. I definitely found it more enjoyable to be part of a new adventure with the characters – like what was done with Toy Story and Big Hero 6, where Sora was able to play more of an active role in progressing the subplot. It was nice to feel like I mattered!

Extras.

These were hit-or-miss for me. I actually screeched with excitement when Sora and the gang ran into Remy, and enjoyed the scavenger hunt for ingredients. And while cooking with little chef was a treat I wouldn’t want to see cut from the game, I found most of the cooking mini-games to be simultaneously too short (less than 10 seconds each!) and needlessly hard to master (especially cracking that egg).

Admittedly a Disney and Disneyland fanatic, I also got a kick out of the lucky emblems (aka hidden mickeys). I thought they were one of the most fun collectibles we’ve seen to date in the franchise.

Which brings me to one of the more controversial extras in the game: the gummiphone! While a lot of people are ragging on the inclusion of this dynamic, I enjoyed it. The Instagram loading screens were a little jarring at first, but they really grew on me. And being able to point the camera at Goofy, Sully, or Hiro and watch them pose for a picture in real-time was nothing short of adorable.

Another thing that surprised me? The game’s occasional self-awareness. I almost included a separate category for this, because I’ve never seen another game do this, and did not see it coming! But the “KINGDOM HEARTS II.9” title screen gave me a good chuckle. It doesn’t make up for all the 1.5, 2.8, 0.2 nonsense we’ve had to put up with, but it’s at least nice to see they can poke fun at their own ridiculousness. And when Sora laments how long it’s been since he’s seen the folks in Twilight Town; then Hayner, confused and even a little creeped out, says “It hasn’t been that long”. Simply acknowledging the vast disconnect between the short time that’s passed in-universe since KH2 and how egregiously long the fans had to wait – well, it had me in stitches. It was morbid laughter, sure, but refreshing nonetheless.

Um, the folk dancing in the square in Corona? Literal funniest thing ever.

One thing that I really missed? Closing keyholes. Finishing worlds wasn’t the same without them.

At this point in the review, I’ve covered basically every aspect I can think of save for one: the story. I’ve purposely saved it for last, because it’s the most important aspect of the series to me, the one that can make or break a Kingdom Hearts game.

From the categories I’ve judged thus far – content, visuals, gameplay, extras – I’d probably give this game a solid 8 or 9/10. I had some issues with the overly cluttered combat, the difficulty level, and the slight disappointment with which worlds were included and the ways they chose to play out the subplots in each. But in the grand scheme of things, all these complaints are minor, and don’t detract from the fact that it’s just plain fun, in a new league with some of the most entertaining and most beautiful titles out there.

But that’s exactly it. Beautiful graphics are the new bare minimum for this generation of console gaming. If a game released for the PS4 or Switch isn’t visually outstanding, it runs a real risk of faltering behind the competition. There is no shortage of beautiful games on the market in 2019.

And if I want a fun game, I can pop back into Mario Odyssey or get a group together to duke it out in Super Smash Ultimate. I can easily download a dozen fun platformers on Steam for less than 50 bucks.

Yes, KH3 is really beautiful, and really fun.

But that’s not why I was so excited to play it.

A legion of kids and teenagers stuck with this series well into their twenties and thirties, never giving up on the release of the next installment. Trudged through handheld games and blocky graphics and clunky battle systems and convoluted plot lines. Why? Well, of course I can’t speak for all KH fans, but for me, and all the ones I know personally, it’s because of the story. It’s always been what, in my mind, sets KH apart from any other video game I’ve ever played. It’s the only game series that’s ever made me cry. The only one I’ve ever owned merchandise for. The only one I’ve ever been so invested in that I can discuss it with friends, even acquaintances, for hours on end. The only one that’s made me care so much about the characters that they feel like my friends. With how much time has passed since I started, maybe even my kids. No pun intended, the series has heart. It contains the same sort of magic that going to Disneyland as a child did. Or, it used to.

Kingdom Hearts 3 didn’t need to just be a great game. It needed to be a Kingdom Hearts game. One that built a wove a compelling story filled with intrigue and emotion from the first hour. One that did justice to all the characters (and by now, there are a lot of them) that we’ve grown to love over the last 17 years. One where a prepubescent kid can yell a speech up at a threatening villain that makes you believe, harder than you’ve ever believed, in the power of friendship. One that instills a childlike optimism that no matter how dark the world gets, as long as someone keeps fighting, good can still triumph over evil. One that tugs on the heartstrings in just the right ways, at just the right moments, to manage to make you cry – repeatedly – over a gang of outspoken, angsty kids with clown feet.

The thing about the story in KH3 is: it’s not inherently a bad story. Sure, it’s a mess, it doesn’t make much sense, it leaves you with more questions than answers, it’s incredibly cheesy, and it retcons a good deal of lore from previous installments. But many of these things could be said of other Kingdom Hearts games. The fact that these descriptors apply to KH3 isn’t what disqualifies it as a worthy entry in the series, in my mind.

For the most part, it’s not the story itself I found disappointing. After all, think about how a summary sounds on paper: reunions with long lost characters, long-awaited battles, conclusions of lengthy character and story arcs. 

The biggest problem wasn’t so much the concept of the story, but rather the execution.

First of all, the pacing. The pacing was terrible. Almost nothing happens the first 20-25 hours of the game. I can think of maybe two scenes that got me on the edge of my seat, gripping my controller in the hopes it would advance the plot further: the scene with Mickey and Riku in the realm of darkness where you get to play as Riku for a few minutes (sadly the only time in the game that you do), and running into Vanitas in Monstropolis. Nothing. Else. Happened. Sure you run into Larxene in Arendelle, and goof around chasing Luxord in the Caribbean, but none of this is actually relevant to the plot we care about. Certainly not the plot the story is telling us to care about from the beginning.

And that leads me to the second issue – how vague your objective actually is. The ultimate objective of the game seems clear enough: rescue Aqua from the realm of darkness, maybe worry about the other two Wayfinder trio once we’ve found her, and defeat Xehanort. But this is not Sora’s given objective. Rather, it’s to find the ‘power of waking.’ Which is not explained, either to Sora or the player. Sora, on the other hand, appoints himself to another mission entirely: contemplating the unfairness of Roxas’ disappearance, he seems to mainly be focused on finding him and restoring him to a physical existence. However, this mission is starkly at odds with the canonical explanation of Nobodies in general and Roxas, specifically. The last time we saw Roxas (chronologically speaking) he reunited with Sora, and as far as we know, he’s still part of Sora. So, the mission to “find” Roxas as if he exists as an entity in the real world is perplexing. Second, lacking hearts, Nobodies can’t exist as a whole on their own. So even assuming we can “find” him in Sora, how far we going to bring him back without splintering Sora into a Heartless and a Nobody again? Even according to the series’ own complex lore, it doesn’t make sense. Therefore, the first half or more of the game seems aimless, not really knowing what we’re meant to be doing, or how. It’s hard to be invested in a story with no clear objective. Not something we can easily get on board with like “Find Riku and Kairi” or “Track down the Organization.” Just “Go find the power of waking.” Okay.

And while a lot (and I mean a lot) happens in the last 4-5 hours of the story to tie up loose ends, it’s crammed together in such a jumbled rush that it’s almost impossible to appreciate any of it.

After collecting Aqua and Ventus, long lost characters reappear on screen one right after another assembly-line style, to the point that none of them feels special or poignant anymore.

Not only that, but the characters who are brought back, many of them beloved protagonists from earlier installments in the series, are not given any time to shine.

It was promising when they let Aqua fight Vanitas in the newly restored Land of Departure. Ven is her friend, her responsibility; it was her fight. But with this taste of getting back a playable character from the franchise, I expected that as the plot progressed, it would open up plenty more chances for past protagonists to take the stage. That we’d be able to step back into the oversized shoes of other playable characters we’d missed. That when (or if) others returned in all their glory, they’d get to strut their stuff.

But that is precisely the opposite of what happened.

I mean, Ventus didn’t get to steal the spotlight for the final clash with Vanitas? By definition, his natural foil?

Terra didn’t get to exact his revenge in an epic showdown with Xehanort, the guy who stole his body and enslaved him for more than a decade?

Roxas and Axel, reunited, couldn’t team up to pound on the Organization members that tormented them? Instead, after his surprise entrance, Roxas got hardly any screen presence at all, and Axel’s epic new flaming keyblade got destroyed, making him sit out most of the fighting after all the build up that he was training to fight?

Oh, and you know who else was utterly useless through the final battles, demoted once again to a damsel in distress despite years of hype that she’d wield a keyblade in this installment, and multiple cutscenes indicating she, too, was training to actually fight? Yup. I don’t even need to say the name.

And to only get one small boss fight as Riku, when in the previous installment he had half the screen time?

The heroes we’ve missed for so long and longed to return to the screen are not resurrected with the dignity and respect they deserve. They are relegated to side characters, who are either completely sidelined for the final battles, or else just hacking away mindlessly in the background as you marathon one ridiculously easy “boss” after another Olympus Coliseum-style.

Speaking of resurrecting characters: the manner in which they brought some of them back was so nebulous it was impossible to understand, let alone experience any sort of emotional reaction.

For one: Roxas. For starters, it’s pretty lazy writing to have Sora be the one pursuing his return (however that was supposed to happen), only to have that pursuit peter out completely, and for Roxas to just appear at the final battle with no resolution or explanation of how. (Nor the satisfaction of fleshing out how Sora achieved it.) But more importantly, where did he come from? There was no scene in which he emerged from Sora’s being. So, where was he? Also, I get that they must have used the replica Demyx/Ansem brought Ienzo as a vessel for him, but how does he have his own heart now? There was no evidence to indicate Sora or Ven lost theirs again. This is a pretty glaring plot hole.

Second? Naminé. This one really came out of left field. No one had even spoken about Naminé the entire game, save one throwaway line. Then all of a sudden, near the very end of the game, everyone cares about bringing her back, too? Even Sora, despite his hours-long obsession with bringing back Roxas without a word about Naminé, sees a newly empty vessel and asks “Oh, is that for Naminé?” All I could do at this point was laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

Even more confusing? Xion. She was a replica, with no heart, no personality... a walking vial for Sora’s memories. How on Earth did she get brought back? What was there to bring back? And what was the point? Xion always felt far more like a plot device than an actual character.

At this point, so little made sense and so many characters had appeared in a row with no regard for continuity or maintaining canon that my heart was really starting to sink. It all felt like it was meant to be fan service. Bring back everyone’s favorite characters: they’ll love that, right? But the issue is they did it no matter what rules they had to break, or canon they had to ignore. Sure, I wanted a lot of these characters back, I think a lot of people did. But not at the expense of good writing.

Even if one completely excuses the hole-filled poor writing that got us there, it didn’t even feel real that we had these awesome characters back. Because they just sort of existed, as high-def cool anime hair and porcelain skin and not much else. Not only did they not get to show us what they’re made of in epic fight sequences, but there was no meaningful dialogue from any of them. Where was Terra giving his friends any sort of recollection of his time as Ansem’s guardian? Riku and Roxas making amends? Aqua thanking Sora for keeping Ven safe? A brofest about protecting their friends between Riku and Terra? Axel saying anything at all meaningful to his best friend when he finally saw him again? For all the reunions we got, it was shocking how little substance there actually was in any of them. 

It was an insanely rushed ending, with stunted, shallow dialogue, and awkward tears that felt forced rather than genuine.

KH3 is to KH1&2 what Moffat Who is to RTD Who. A lot more flash, a lot less substance, and hollowed out characters that no longer provoke deep emotion.

Characters’ emotions were not handled well in this game. Like when Sora, notorious for being a persistent optimist, dissolves to hysterics and claims he’s “nothing” without his friends. But we never get to see this sharp departure from his M.O. (because he has lost his friends over and over throughout the series without reacting this way) really wrestled with. It’s just swept under the rug after a single line from Riku. It’s okay for characters to hit rock bottom: in fact, it’s good for them. But such episodes have to be properly fleshed out, or they won’t have an impact.

Also, just my two cents? Making your characters cry is not a shortcut to get your audience to cry. It’s a lazy way of demonstrating feeling. In the writing world, there’s something called “show, don’t tell.” Making characters cry left and right with hardly any time devoted to the proper dialogue and action is the equivalent of telling, rather than showing. This series is unique to me precisely because it’s the only video game to make me cry (repeatedly). But I didn’t shed a tear in this game. And I think that is so telling. I always think of this behind the scenes video I watched for Doctor Who, in which they filmed different versions of a (very) emotional scene. In one of these versions, the Doctor properly breaks down and cries. David (the actor) upon seeing this version played back to him, said: “I worry if you see him breaking down, it stops you breaking down, as well.” He was onto something there. They didn’t end up using that take in the episode, and I think everyone would agree it was the right call. I’m not saying crying is inherently bad and always to be avoided. In fact, the opposite: it can be very powerful if used sparingly, and at the right moments with the right build-up. But overusing it, with no apparent regard for characterization nuances, basically making it your only method for tell your audience a character is emotional? It’s a little insulting. You also need good dialogue, good acting (or in this case, good animation and voice acting), and proper timing if you want to strike a chord with anyone.

Which, speaking of, I thought both the dialogue and the voice acting in the game as a whole left something to be desired (and seemed almost painfully slow?), and I think a big reason why emotional moments tended to ring hollow.

Onto another aspect of the story: how it ties in to earlier installments in the series. There was a fair amount of speculation going into this game whether or not smaller, handheld-console based installments and extra nuggets from mobile games and re-releases would be relevant in KH3. But regardless of which side of the argument fans fell on, the fact remains that many fans had only played KH1 and KH2, possibly BBS, prior to playing KH3. Many people don’t have the money or the interest in playing on multiple handheld consoles (me being one of them, though I toughed it out in this case) or cell phones, nor the tireless dedication and yes, more money, to purchase games a second time for Final Mix versions and secret endings. This is not a bad thing. It doesn’t mean they are bad fans, or less deserving of playing or enjoying KH3. Someone should not have to be a zealous super-fan to be able to enjoy a video game, or any form of entertainment. If you show up to Avengers: Endgame without having seen some of the previous major installments in the film franchise, you are probably going to be confused. I don’t recommend doing that. But is it necessary to have re-watched them all 20 times, speculated for hours on blogs and message boards, and read decades worth of Avengers comics to be able to understand it? Of course not. Though some insufferable comic book elitists insist they’re better than everyone else because they know more about the Marvel universe, the fact is you don’t have to be a Marvel super-fan to enjoy the films. That’s how it should be. Because it’s okay to be a casual fan of something. Content creators normally recognize this, and respect all of their audience. But here, there was critical information from pretty much every spinoff handheld game that you needed in order to have any idea what was going on. There wasn’t even any recap system like in KH2 (the static memories) to get you up to speed on what had happened in the series up until this point. Not to mention the location of the final boss fight, as well as the very last cutscenes centered around a mobile game/movie that I had never even heard of until I was in the middle of playing KH3. Now I am something of a KH geek as I said, so I’ve sat through Union Cross now and done my best to understand some of the more obscure lore. But, call me crazy, I don’t think it’s fair to expect every single person who plays the game to do that in order to understand it. Games are supposed to be fun, not homework.

Which brings me to my last point: this game was supposed to be the end of the saga as we know it. Whether it’s the end of the series or simply the end of this story arc and subsequent games will follow a villain besides the many iterations of Xehanort is yet to be seen (as of me writing this), but it was established this game would be the end to the main trilogy so far. And, to have that end be the main character swanning off on his own (as some have speculated, possibly to his death)? With everyone else from the series partying on the beach like someone important isn’t missing? As someone who came into this game expecting closure, I felt completely blindsided by this ending. After all he’s been through and all the sacrifices he’s made, Sora deserves better.

Kingdom Hearts 3 was visually and mechanically a blast, and credit should go to the developers, artists, and designers where credit is due. But as a fan who plays this series not for graphics or flashy gameplay, but to immerse myself in the story, I’m left feeling cheated. The way the plot unfolded and the way the characters were handled did a disservice to both long-time fans of the saga and to the characters themselves.

I always have a hard time with this, but if I had to put a number to it? I’d say maybe 6/10.

It hurt just to type that.

I’m not giving up hope in the franchise. If there’s ever a KH4 (which still seems unclear right now), I’ll probably still play it. I’m trying to give the creators the benefit of the doubt: they were under a lot of pressure to create a great game, and had too much time in development on their hands and too many sprawling ideas and tried to do too much at once. I’m all for second chances. But if they want the trust of fans like me back, they’re going to have to earn it.

Over the last couple months as I’ve put together this review, I’ve found myself in doubt. Even, dare I say it, like a bad fan, though in principle I vehemently reject the notion someone is a bad fan for disliking an installment of any franchise they love. Am I just too old for Kingdom Hearts now? I wondered. Was I romanticizing the series the whole time, and it’s not as good as I’ve built it up to be in my head? After all my time spent waiting, am I being too critical? I tortured myself over it. So, a couple of weeks after finishing KH3, I popped in the 1.5/2.5 HD compilation into the PS4 and restarted KH2. I had to see if it even came close to the hype I’d built in my head in the 8 or 9 years since I played it last. Almost 60 hours of gameplay later, I can say with confidence that I had not romanticized it at all. This game is amazing. I didn’t mind watching 30 minutes of cutscenes at a time because everything is so compelling. So the graphics are dated, but who cares? The combat is FUN without ever being cumbersome. It’s just the right level of difficulty that there are still some battles and bosses that require multiple attempts and the journey continuously instills a sense of pride and accomplishment. It has so much heart. I still teared up in the same places I used to as a teenager.

KH2 is still a perfect 10/10, and playing it again with fresh eyes only made me realize just how disappointing KH3 actually was.

There’s an old adage that it’s the things we love most that hurt us the most. I wouldn’t feel so let down, or compelled to write 6800 words why, if I didn’t love this series with all my heart. I’ve seen a lot of fans insulting and belittling anyone who dares to criticize the game online, and frankly I’m baffled by that. I critique and discuss all forms of entertainment I enjoy: and that includes both the strengths and weaknesses, the successes and flaws. And I guess I tend to associate with people who do the same. It doesn’t make us bad fans, but passionate ones. I’m not sending hate mail to Square telling them the game unequivocally sucks. I don’t have any ill will towards them or think they’re irredeemable writers or developers. I’m simply recording and posting my honest thoughts to help myself process how I’m feeling, and perhaps others if they choose to read them.

I’m genuinely happy for the fans who loved the game and felt it worth the wait – I don’t want to pick any fights with them (so please don’t pick any fights with me, either). I’m sadly - believe me, no one is sadder than me to admit this - just not one of them.