#but no yeah they are incredibly fun. good luck i know its impossible to find good jocks stuff in this fandom

[midnightdemonhunter]

Hi, love ur art!

I wanted to ask: what do you think about JD/Kurt Kelly as a ship or just g(a)uys with chemistry between them?

Oh lmao absolutely both! I think in general it's funny for the classic homoerotic tension that comes from bullying, but I do also find it neat how similar Jd is to the jocks in some ways. The classic "can they make you cry anymore?" "no but you can." exchange between Jd and Veronica about the jocks is definitely the most explicit parallel but also just. dad stuff. resorting to violence. lots of beer and lots of slushies. I'm a huge sucker for pairs who will never be self aware enough to realize how similar they are, and who instead despise each other!

I actually have a ton of art for jd x the jocks lol, but I've been too embarrassed to post any of it, so it just haunts my files! Seeing people enjoying it for sure makes me wanna post some more though! I have less art of just kurt x jd that's digital (much more sketchbook stuff), but i do have a silly au where kurt's forced by his dad to work at 7/11 over the summer and meets Jd early...

[cinderspots]

if you're taking prompts i'd love to see something with reader or mia taking care of miranda? maybe as impossible as it seems she gets hurt protecting one of them or something and theyre really shaken by that and how much she loves them

I'm absolutely taking prompts hope you enjoy! ❤

It’d been stupid really.

Mia had wanted to go on a walk, and Miranda had been in her lab for an unhealthy amount of time, so Mia dragged Miranda along with her to breathe in the fresh air and not work herself to death.

Miranda was grumbling the whole way, but Mia noticed the puff of her wings. Happy. Mia was happy too. Mia linked arms with Miranda walking along the priestess’ well-known walking path, villagers and lycans avoided it due to her temper.

It was almost normal if Mia disregarded how Miranda’s wings shifted to shield her from the cold. They walked in relative silence, both happy with that alone. They didn’t need to talk, all they needed was each other.

But whatever I guess, lycan’s gotta be stupid at some point.

(Apparently about three minutes after they left, Alcina, Donna, and Heisenberg had called Miranda. There was an issue with a few lycans and they were now rampaging at Alcina’s castle, and clawing their way inside Donna’s. Just a disaster overall, and now they didn’t listen to orders. Heisenberg was so dead.)

Miranda snarled and vines ripped a lycan apart for even daring to touch her human (but not human). This seemingly was the end of it, and Miranda slightly relaxed. A branch snapped behind them, and Miranda turned to see what it was - on high alert.

But surprise! It was a diversion and Mia was promptly knocked the fuck down by a drooling feral lycan, ready for lunch. Mia did not scream - she was used to this kinda bullshit occurring in her life - and attempted to wrestle herself out of its hold.

The entire interaction was shockingly silent, to the point that Miranda didn’t even realize it was happening until she turned back around to find Mia ten seconds from being food.

Crows everywhere.

Like whoa, Mia didn’t even know that many could exist in one place - what the fuck? Miranda knocked the lycan away, and more fun- they were surrounded. Mia had sinking feeling in her gut because really, there was only so much Miranda could handle. Mia let out a feral growl as the lycan got up like an idiot on a mission and growled at her.

They weren’t special, Mia was infected too, but she wasn’t going around trying to chomp other people’s legs off.

(She just cut people’s hands-off, there’s a difference guys, and it was a chainsaw, not her teeth. She was composed about removing hands.)

There was a tense silence as Miranda attempted to order them back down, and when it didn’t work she seemed to come to the conclusion that her son was in need of serious punishment. But until then, they would have to deal with the rogue pack of lycans that decided today was the day they were gonna pick a fight with a goddess and a vaguely immortal mold woman.

Today.

Of course.

Mia always had a knife on her, she wasn’t about to play no games with her life. The rest is basically a blur, Mia didn’t even want to think about what she was covered in, or the fact she was slaughtering lycans.

In the corner of her eyes, she saw Miranda fending off almost twelve lycans at once, purposefully drawing them away from Mia. The two continued to fight, the lycans slowly dying off.

Until.

Until Miranda couldn’t quite push herself to that limit until Miranda was caught off guard due to just how hard she was pushing herself. Until Miranda got mauled. Miranda’s exhaustion from lack of sleep, physical exertion, and mental strain pushed her to drop like a stone.

Leaving Mia to both panic over her lover’s situation, and panic over the fact that she’s probably like five minutes from death. Except…the world twists everything is different all of the sudden and the lycans start to wail. They’re terrified, and Mia turns, because something is glowing.

Flowers.

Wait a second-

The lycans turn tail and run as fast as they can, and the world sharpens, comes back into focus, and Mia is facing Donna Beneviento.

….who’s wildly out of shape.

“How.”

“Mother can….she can do much more than she lets on.”

Donna had started speaking around Mia long ago, the two hit it off rather quickly, and Mia took to Donna like a mother to child.

Mia suspected, but ultimately it didn’t matter if Miranda could invade others’ minds, all that mattered was that Mia was alive, and needed to get Miranda home to heal. Donna seemed to understand this as well and carefully picked Miranda up, avoiding injuring her wings that were limp and incredibly invasive to the process of carrying her. The two trudged back to their home, Mia didn’t even care that Donna knew where they lived, and set Miranda down on a table.

Mia was sent away, to worry, to fear, as Donna did her best. Once she completed the main part Donna handed Mia a kit, essentially telling her good luck before dipping. Mia swallowed and quickly went to Miranda.

It was shockingly bad.

She was still passed out, and the black blood she bled (say that ten times fast) was glaringly obvious against the lab coat she’d donned to work in. Mia could tell that Donna had helped with the major issue that required actual expertise and not life skills of being kidnapped and fucked with for years.

Mia carefully worked on the smaller injuries, some of them were already patching themselves up. As the adrenaline truly faded Mia felt tears gather in her eyes, she didn’t even know Miranda could be this weak, especially in front of others. But this scared her because Miranda was completely open, weak.

Mia hated it, she was going to get onto Miranda more often for her health, she was going to keep Miranda functioning because what good what she to Eva if she was dead?

(What would Mia do without Miranda?)

Mia found herself staying by Miranda all throughout the night, she was too rattled over the incident to sleep anyways. Early rays of the sun began to warm the area when Miranda stirred.

Or well- when Miranda woke up very quickly and was immediately on high alert, causing Mia to think danger and whip out her knife.

So it’s not smooth.

Once everyone is calmed down, and ruffled feathers have been put back into place Miranda attempts to stand, which is not happening on Mia’s watch and she steps up to Miranda and forces her to lay right back down.

Miranda opens her mouth to argue, but before she can even begin to talk circles around Mia or attempt to trick Mia into something, Mia spoke.

“Don’t you even try it, do you know how hurt you were? I don’t ever want to see you like that again, and guess what? You don’t get to sit in your lab all day and be generally unhealthy about your habits. You’re going to take breaks, eat more - oh yeah I’ve noticed that - and sleep! That’s that, now lay back down and rest.”

Miranda’s wings had fluffed out from partial surprise as well as natural fear. Mia gave Miranda a stern look and Miranda almost in a scolded manner laid back down. Mia moves towards the edge of where Miranda was laying, quiet.

“I was worried.” it’s whispered between Mia’s fingers where she’s letting her headrest. Miranda turns to look at Mia, almost surprised before awkwardly pulling her hand away from her face to hold it.

“I’m alright.”

It’s such a tender moment Mia can hardly believe Miranda is the one she’s speaking to. But Mia looks up at Miranda, who looks concerned over Mia and can’t help but smile.

“You’re alright.”

[cursed-or-not]

Merry Christmas @dreamnovak  from your Secret Santa!! You’re truly, truly The Best and I’ve had sm fun writing for you <33 happy holidays to everyone!!

It’s a slow day at the Roadhouse, and the cold has crept in through the rickety doors and floorboards. Dean shivers behind the counter.

He thinks one day he’ll have to get around to fixing the insulation.

The air feels like snow.

Across the counter, Cas watches him intently.

“You look cold,” he says finally.

Dean shrugs. “Not too bad. Feels like it’s gonna snow, though.”

Cas’ head tilts in confusion. “How do you predict snow with just a feeling?”

Dean stares back at him, affronted. He couldn’t explain how, but he’s spent enough time driving around the Midwest to recognize the heaviness of the air and smell of an oncoming storm.

“It’s in the air, Cas! Don’t look at me like that. I know what it feels like before a storm.”

Cas seems to decide to back down.

“Well, I hope it’s a good thing,” he mumbles.

This time, it’s Dean’s turn to look puzzled.

“The snow?”

Cas nods.

“Jack decided to keep all four seasons. I believe he said something about maintaining authenticity.”

“It’s a good thing,” Dean assures him simply.

Cas barely nods in acknowledgement, eyes scanning the empty tables. Dean picks up on his gaze.

“If you really wanna fix something, it wouldn’t hurt for Jack to give me a few more customers,” Dean quips, knocking his knuckles on the counter where Cas sits alone.

“We can’t force people to support your business,” Cas grumbles. “I thought you believe in free will.”

“Woah, I was just saying it’d be nice,” Dean defends. He wonders if Cas can tell from his face that the comment elicited the exact response he’d been looking for. Dean has found over the last few months that there’s no one he’d rather banter with than Cas.

“Well, you might do better to attempt to attract customers on your own.” Cas says it so sincerely that Dean knows he’s just doing it to tease him.

“Hey!” Dean responds, making his voice as wounded as he can manage.

When Cas just smiles, Dean leans towards him, resting his elbows on the counter, and continues.

“I mean, at least I know there’s one customer I can always count on to show up,” Dean says with a smile.

“If you’re referring to me, I don’t come because of your incredible business practices,” Cas responds, and Dean can’t tell if it’s an insult to his work ethic or a compliment to his personality.

Dean decides to take whatever it means and push his luck.

“Yeah? What keeps bringing you back then?”

At that, Cas looks up, and any teasing is gone from his expression.

“You know the answer to that,” he says simply, and Dean can feel his face burning.

He’s been dancing around this every possible chance.

“Cas…” Dean says softly, eyes fixed firmly on the counter.

“Dean,” Cas echoes, and Dean can practically hear the sad smile behind that tone.

Dean risks a glance up, and Cas’ eyes are searching his face. Dean looks back down.

“It’s okay, you know” Cas says simply. Sincerely.

Dean lets out a breath.

Cas continues, “I know you need more time. I think it’s a testament to how much you’ve grown that you were even willing to tell me that much, and I appreciate your honesty.”

Dean shakes his head barely perceptibly.

“Hey,” Cas says gently, and his hand moves like he might reach out before it falls back. “It’s okay,” he repeats.

God. Sometimes Dean wishes Cas wouldn’t make everything seem so easy and so difficult at the same time. He wishes it didn’t always have to be so complicated with them.

He wishes Cas wouldn’t tell him that it’s okay when Dean is still struggling to work up the courage to be happy.

Dean looks up.

“It’s not,” Dean says, and Cas looks ready to object, so Dean just pushes forward.

“I mean, some of it is. I’m not saying I’m not worthy or I did something wrong, but I’m saying I didn’t do it like I should’ve and I--” Dean pauses, searching for whatever it is he wants to say. “I’m not sure it was fair to you,” he says carefully.

Cas’ expression softens.

“Dean,” he says, and he always manages to say Dean’s name like it’s more than it is. He always manages to put so much meaning into it. “I’ve waited my entire life-- a millenia-- for you. A few weeks is nothing.”

Dean feels like he’s had all the air knocked out of him. Before, he couldn’t look Cas in the eye, but now he can’t stop searching his face.

Dean takes a breath to steal himself, and he feels his resolve crumble. He reaches across the counter to catch Cas’ hand in both of his.

“I’m never gonna deserve you,” Dean tells him, and his throat feels almost too tight to get the words out.

“No,” Cas objects. “No. Dean, I meant every word I told you that night. Not just the ‘I love you,’” Cas says, and his voice is so fierce that Dean can’t help but look away. Cas’ other hand comes up to rest on Dean’s, too.

“You’re a hero, Dean,” Cas says simply. “And the best brother, father, and friend in this universe or any other. And,” Cas adds with a smile, “you’re an above-average bartender.”

“Above average, huh?” Dean asks, eyes still prickling with tears but chest less tight than before.

“The best of the mediocre,” Cas confirms, and Dean lets out a snort at the deadpan humor.

He lets the moment hang in the air for a moment before speaking up.

“Maybe I just need a good business partner,” Dean says slowly, watching Cas’ face carefully.

Cas waits for Dean to say more, and Dean supposes that’s fair; it’s his turn.

“I don’t… I don’t want to do this alone anymore,” Dean says, forcing his voice to sound more matter-of-fact than he feels. “None of it.”

Cas’ face softens again, looking impossibly fond.

“You always have me,” he says with such conviction that Dean chokes out what could pass as a laugh.

“Thanks, man.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. But, uh, I was thinking maybe we try to do things differently. Only if you want,” Dean says, heart pounding. He hopes Cas doesn’t feel his hands shaking.

“Differently?”

Dean shrugs, doing his best to look indifferent.

“As I said, I’m with you no matter what, but if you wanted to specify…” Cas trails off expectantly.

Dean clears his throat again, looking down to where his hands previously held Cas’.

“Differently, like, maybe we see each other more. Not just here, but-- dinner and stuff,” Dean finishes lamely.

Cas narrows his eyes.

“We already do eat dinner together sometimes.”

“You’re killing me, man,” Dean huffs a laugh before taking a deep breath and trying again. “Okay, so, maybe we also… live together?” Dean says nervously, risking only a quick glance to see Cas’ face.

“I’ve already lived with you, in the bun--”

“Cas, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you,” Dean snaps.

Cas’ eyes don’t leave Dean’s face as he responds with a simple, “Oh.”

“‘Oh?’ What the hell does ‘oh’ mean?!”

Cas almost looks amused.

“You already know I love you, too,” he points out, and Dean hates how rational a thing to say it is.

“Things could’ve changed,” Dean points out in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself.

‘They haven’t,” Cas says, and Dean can’t help but stare at him in wonder. “They won’t.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Dean says hoarsely. He wishes he could only blame the cold for the goosebumps on his arms.

“Thank you for talking to me,” Cas murmurs, and Dean feels himself melt at the softness of it.

Dean thinks he couldn’t have put this off any longer if he tried.

“Thank you for being… you,” Dean responds, and something in his chest aches at the fondness in the look Cas responds with.

Dean’s hand finds its way back to Cas’.

“You were right, you know,” Cas says suddenly, and Dean waits for him to specify. “It started snowing a couple minutes ago,” he mutters, and Dean laughs at the reluctant confession.

He looks out throught the fogged-up window, and the snowflakes swirl lazily downward. Circling and then falling.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me for a little while,” Dean says with a smile.

Neither of them point out the fact that Cas has his wings back, nor does Dean acknowledge that the few flakes outside aren’t nearly enough to prevent anyone from driving.

“I guess I am,” Cas responds. He glances outside. “Through tomorrow too, I expect. Just in case the storm continues.”

Dean nods in mock solemnity. “Probably safest for you to stick with me for a month or so, actually. Maybe the next year or two. You never know with storms like this.”

They watch the snow keep coming. Cas squeezes Dean’s hand.

“Thank you, Dean,” he says, and Dean’s not quite sure what the gratitude is for, but he accepts it. He leans farther across the counter, squeezing Cas’ hand.

“You, too-- for everything. Thanks, Cas.”

“You still look cold,” Cas says suddenly, and Dean huffs a laugh.

“Well, guess you’ll have to keep me warm,” he responds smoothly.

“Until the storm’s over,” Cas agrees.

“Oh,” Dean says, pretending to check his watch as he leans in closer, “I think longer than that.”

Cas breathes into the small space between them, and then Dean bridges it.

Around them, the snow keeps falling.

Settling.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 7: The Sea

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

With time comes understanding, to a point. At the very least comes understanding. You have some revelations and in the ocean, you find some peace. Also- you are take the worst selfie ever.

A/N: This story had been heartbreaking to write, but also a ton of fun? There's a tiny little reprieve in this chapter and the next and then right back to sadsville! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you guys and would give you all hugs and smooches if I could and it wasn't a pandemic Lol. Did you know that USBs can disintegrate? So, you know, back up your work in more than one place.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You barely slept. Liu had come in a little while after you and hadn’t said a word though you had caught his eyes on you at least a dozen times. Neither of you had really slept, you supposed. Before sunrise you’d given up on sleep and got up. You cleaned up in the small washroom and then went outside to meditate.

The woods were peaceful.

The mountains were peaceful.

You were not. But you had time to reflect.

You tried to think about literally anything else besides the arguments with Liu Kang from the past two nights, but it was nearly impossible.

Wasn’t it unhealthy of you to even consider what Liu Kang was suggesting? Your long-term very serious relationship had just ended, and it had only ended because he had died. Then again, you weren’t sure what would have happened with Liu if he hadn’t put himself in a place of lesser significance than Kung Lao.

Because with reflection, you’d realized that was what he had done. And it was something that he had always done ever since you’d known him.

Kung Lao. Descendant of the Great Kung Lao. The Chosen One. A man who had been raised since his youth to embody the spirit of the champion who had saved Earthrealm many years ago. Liu Kang had put him on a pedestal. He’d been taught to.

He was just a filthy orphan. He’d even used those exact words to describe himself. Liu Kang was second place- even to himself. Then when Kung Lao had come to him regarding you, he’d done the same thing. Put himself in second place. He’d even said that he hadn’t deserved you.

Your meditation was ruined.

Dammit.

Why hadn’t you noticed before? If he had just told you any part of the truth all those years ago, then you would have grabbed his shoulders, shaken him, and told him he was just as worthy of love and praise as Kung Lao was. But that wasn’t what he’d done. He’d chosen to put a wedge between you.

“The past is just that.” You had to remind yourself. You couldn’t go back in time and erase what had happened. There was no way to know what would have become of you if you had pushed Liu Kang a little further than you had back then. It had been so unlike him to behave that way but you’d also been terrified that he would say exactly what he’d said. He’d fulfilled your self-doubt and fears without realizing.

It had broken you. You hadn’t had it in you to push him.

You’d instead agreed to go out with Kung Lao and that had started a wonderful relationship. But you had also started it when you’d been broken. It had taken time for you to open up to Kung Lao about anything, to be intimate with him, to connect and all because you had been broken up about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had been patient with you and you supposed that was because he had known that Liu Kang was stepping out of the way for him.

Hindsight was everything in this instance.

An unfamiliar energy joined you nearby, seated a few feet away from you. Nightwolf. He was calming. You sat in silence and watched as the sun rose beyond the trees, spreading its radiance over unfamiliar but still beautiful terrain. You cleared your mixed thoughts of Liu Kang, of Kung Lao, and of guilt.

You were there to work, not to sort out your baggage. Part of you considered that Raiden had sent you together to work out your baggage but who knew anymore? It didn’t matter. You quieted your brain and focused only on the sunrise.

Nightwolf had something to say. You could feel it but you would also allow him the time to find the words that suited him. You hoped it was soon. Silence was unkind.

Finally, he turned to you.

Thank god. If he talked then your brain would stop filling the silence.

“I’ve decided meet your Lord Raiden at your request.”

“Really?” You made no effort to hide your surprise. Honestly, you and Liu were making all the wrong impressions on people lately so you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said no or needed more time. If that had been the case then Liu Kang would have… you stopped your thought. You had no idea what Liu Kang would have done. He wasn’t himself those past few weeks.

It stung to think that.

You wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to be okay more than you wanted yourself to be okay. If you had to suffer every day in grief for the rest of your life for him to be okay, then you would have. So much for your brain shutting up.

“Like you said last night, it’s the right thing to do. I don’t wish to leave my home but if doing so means protecting it? Then it’s worth it.”

“Thank you.” You breathed a sigh of relief. He was so reasonable and kind. You hoped that you got to know him a bit better when you got back to China. He seemed like a good guy. At least this one thing had gone right, though you were certain that it was because Nightwolf was a good man and not because you and Liu had done an exceptionally good job of convincing him. You’d spent time with him, of course, but your collective energy was a total mess. “Do you need time to make arrangements for your home?” Honestly, you were ready to leave right now. Then you could head to Hollywood.

Maybe Liu wouldn’t come with you and you could have some space and time to think. Then again, you were now incredibly concerned about Liu Kang and wanted to make sure that he was okay. Your handling of the arguments had been poor, at best. It was difficult to be kind to yourself and remind yourself that you were struggling too.

“I packed all that I should need.” He smiled as if reading your thoughts and you nodded.

“Thank you, Nightwolf.”

“The decision was an easy one when I thought about it. What was the alternative, really? To ignore the truth? Live life knowing that I could have done something great for my people? For our world?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” You drifted off with a smile and watched the sun as it settled just amongst the trees. Perhaps today would be a good day.

“Just say the word and we can head on our way. The hike will take us another three days and…”

“Yeah, about that.” You explained briefly that you would be summoned to Raiden’s Temple and that you didn’t have to worry about typical means of travel. It was difficult to explain why you had hiked to see him but wouldn’t be hiking back. Raiden could have very well done many of the things you’d done himself but the reasons he didn’t were his own. You could guess but your brain was exhausted by speculation right now and there was no point.

Liu Kang joined you partway through your explanation and sat politely after greeting you both. He was more like himself that morning and you were glad for that. He didn’t jump down anyone’s throat or interrupt you even once. He even offered you a soft smile and gave words of gratitude to Nightwolf. You left them to gather your things and soon enough, you were having breakfast and then going on your way.

Back outside, Liu Kang stood before you and with a flourish of fire that startled Nightwolf he prayed for safe passage. A crack of lightning burst blindingly before you, offering you passage through.

“You can stay for the moment if you like.” Liu placed a gentle hand on your forearm and then escorted an impressed and surprised Nightwolf into the lightning. You were surprised that he hadn’t hesitated to walk into it. Your first time had been Liu Kang practically carrying you through it while you rattled off the reasons it was a terrible and impractical means of travel.

“Good luck.” You bowed politely to Nightwolf who wished you well. They disappeared into the bolt of lightning, leaving you alone again with only your thoughts to keep you company. God, you were tired of your thoughts. They were exhausting. You wished you could have a break from your brain.

The woods were still and silent minus the wind rustling through the trees. You sat atop one of the logs surrounding the abandoned firepit and considered that it felt lonely there without Nightwolf’s presence. You hoped that whatever came next regarding Outworld and Mortal Kombat, that he would be okay. He was a good man.

Lightning struck behind you and you half-expected Raiden to be the one to greet you but instead it was Liu Kang. He walked to join you after the lightning had disappeared and sat next to you. The tension was instantly awkward and nervous between you. You had so many things that you wanted to say to him, to ask him, but you said none of them.

Liu Kang was a wonderful man.

A good man. A brilliant and studious disciple. A skilled and dazzling warrior. An excellent listener. A good friend. A tremendous lover. And still he seemed to think that his place was in the service of others. Another outstanding trait, except that it meant he thought he was worthy of very little. Then he’d finally thought of himself enough to tell you truths that he’d hidden and you’d panicked.

Worse than that? You were too exhausted to say any of that to him. You expected it to be a fight if you did.

It appeared that Liu Kang was exhausted too. When you caught his face in the morning sun, you could see his weariness and the depths of thought behind his dark eyes. He turned as if feeling you studying him and you locked eyes briefly before both turning away. There were volumes left unsaid between you but you took his hand without thinking and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

You would be okay.

One way or another, you would be okay.

Time was what you needed. But you also thought that was what you’d needed with Kung Lao too and then that time had been stolen from you. You didn’t want that to happen again either but you didn’t know how to fix what had broken with Liu Kang. You wanted to fix it so badly but you didn’t even know what fixing it meant.

You only knew that you wanted him to be okay.

He squeezed your hand in return before letting go and standing. You joined him, urging your bag onto your back. “To Hollywood?” Your voice felt dusty, creaky, like a door that hadn’t been opened in eons. Only minutes had passed but it was enough time for the mood to have shifted.

“Yes.” Liu bowed his head but avoided your eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Nightwolf was okay without us being there?”

“Yes. You were right. He made the right choice for the right reasons. I should have given him the time and explanation he deserved.” He walked away from you and you watched him go. “I didn’t want to go to Hollywood. I asked Raiden just to send you.”

Oh.

That was fair, you supposed.

It hurt for a second before you could picture him in your head telling Raiden that he didn’t want to hurt you anymore so he would stay behind. Falling on his sword again and again to protect the interests of everyone but himself.

“He insisted?”

“Yes. Apparently, this actor is a handful.”

“Didn’t think I could do it alone? Jax and Sonya are already there.”

“And Cole.”

Ah, yes. The man that Kung Lao had died to protect. You hadn’t met him in person yet. He’d rallied your friends when they had needed it and had saved Liu Kang from his grief. You dreaded seeing them. Seeing new people meant that they would walk on eggshells around you. They would ask you how you were coping. You’d have to explain for the millionth time that grief was something you learned to live alongside rather than overcame. Then the tremendous guilt that came with the attention of it all. Liu Kang had lost his brother. You were sure that he was going through something similar but people seemed to act more sympathetically toward you.

“You ready?” You didn’t know what else to ask. He didn’t want to be there and whether the reason was you, the others, or just disliking California, you felt awkward. You wanted him to have his space and to grieve the way he needed to. That was all you wanted. But Raiden, apparently, had other ideas.

You admired the sunny sky one last time before you joined him as he summoned the lightning that would take you across the country.

You arrived on the beach.

You could hear people chattering in the distance. It was amazing that no one had seen you. You supposed that Raiden was a god and knew where to put you but the whole thing still dazzled you. Years of traveling by his hand and you had never once gotten used to it. You hoped that it always surprised you.

Liu walked toward the water instead of toward the road on the other side. You were still a bit away from Hollywood and you didn’t know where you were going. You assumed that Raiden had told Liu but you also imagined that where you were headed wasn’t toward the water. There was nothing there but dark ocean under gray skies.

You watched as he made his way down the wooden steps of the boardwalk and onto the beach and then hung your head back toward the sky and prayed. You prayed for peace for Liu Kang, prayed for the patience to get through whatever came after your last horrible confrontation. He’d said you’d owed it to yourselves to figure it out. Figure whatout? If you still had feelings for him? It was clear that he did for you and the very thought gave you goosebumps that you had to mentally work to shake off before following him into the sand. You took off your shoes and followed him.

The sand was warm between your toes despite the overcast skies and chilly breeze. Pulling the smartphone from your pocket, you took a picture of Liu Kang standing just before the water line in the sand where the waves were currently lapping at low tide. He was beautiful and so you turned away and put the phone back in your pocket. You were grateful now for the camera in the phone. That was one thing that you regretted not having over the years.

How many pictures did you have of Kung Lao?

One.

From your first date. He’d asked someone on the street after dinner to take a photo for you on a throwaway camera you’d bought on a whim during your previous trip. Most of those photos had been of random things that had made you laugh, sites you’d visited, or important things that you’d had to show Raiden but couldn’t bring with you. Except for the one photograph from your date, that was.

You wouldn’t let that happen again. Even if you and Liu were in a complex place, you wanted pictures of him. Of you together. You decided to steal another one and as you were admiring it on the screen, Liu Kang joined you at your side. You fumbled with the phone, dropped it in the sand, and before you picked it up, Liu was doing it for you.

He dusted off the screen and handed it back to you. He didn’t ask you why you’d been admiring a photo of him, but you swore you caught just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “I missed the ocean.” He gestured toward the water. “Didn’t mean to sidetrack us.”

“Do you think Raiden would be furious with us if we just… sat on the beach all day?”

“Maybe. Are you going to tell him if we did?”

“…only if I’m mad at you.” You smiled and he shook his head before turning his gaze back toward the water. He’d earned the shore. The waves. Even just for putting up with you the night before.

Liu Kang sat in the sand, legs folded. You sat next to him, careful to make sure there was a little distance between you. Maybe you could be at peace next to each other if neither one of you opened your mouths. You took a picture of the ocean.

He watched you curiously as if to silently ask why you were suddenly taking so many pictures. So much for not talking. You just hoped that you didn’t end up screaming at each other on the beach. This place was peaceful and you so rarely had peace. You were sure that soon enough you would be amidst chaos. You had earned this moment.

“I didn’t have any pictures of Kung Lao.” You explained when he didn’t let it go. He nodded as if to understand but you saw his brow furrow, as though he wondered whether or not he had any pictures of him either. “I have one, I guess. But it’s old and poorly shot and I… I don’t want to forget his face. I don’t want to forget anyone’s faces. You enjoyed the ocean so much just now and now… now I have that picture forever.” You’d said too much which was just like you.

“Can I see?” He held his hand out for the phone and you offered it reluctantly. What if he deleted them? Maybe he didn’t want pictures of him. It was a silly thing, but you had been desperate to see Kung Lao’s face one more time and all you’d had was one blurry picture where you’d gone on your first date and your damn heart had been broken after Liu Kang so you hadn���t even looked happy in the picture. Kung Lao, however, had looked incredibly happy, even if his face had been blurry.

Kung Lao was rarely the type to sit still, especially when you were out and about in the world. The picture was an accurate portrayal of him at the time.

“You look sad.” Liu Kang handed the phone back to you and much to your surprise, he’d taken a picture of you. You definitely did look sad. You hadn’t meant to wear your heart so obviously on your sleeve. “I don’t want to forget your face either, Y/N.” In a gut reaction, you covered your mouth and stared back at the water and felt your eyes burn with tears. They were threatening to turn into sobs but you refused to cry. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, contorted, and trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want you to look sad.”

It took you a solid few minutes to keep yourself from just bursting into tears. “Well, I’m sad.” You decided there was no point in lying when you’d been broken up about it so obviously. “But so are you. Maybe it’s okay to have pictures where we look sad.”

“Maybe.” He scooted closer to you in the sand. “Take a picture with me.”

“Why? To have proof of how miserable we’ve made each other in the last week?” You turned the camera around on the phone after struggling to figure out the buttons.

“What? You don’t want to relive us screaming at each other every time you look at it?” His smile was weary.

“Already reliving it pretty consistently without photographic proof, Liu.”

“We should talk.”

“I know.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”

“Yeah, that scares me too.”

“What you’ll say? Or what I’ll say because I feel like we’re doing a lot of talking without thinking lately which is unlike both of us.”

“I have always had a hard time with that. You maybe think too much before you talk.” You tried to lighten the mood and he at least laughed a little, even if it was just beneath his breath. You adjusted the camera and Liu carefully took it from your hand before aiming the screen toward you both.

“…how do I do this?” He tried to adjust his hand so he could take the picture while he held it and so you reached to do so instead and took the least flattering picture that either one of you had ever taken. “Try that again.”

“That isn’t how you want to remember us?” You pointed to the little preview in the bottom corner of the screen.

“Not at all.”

You were terrible with technology, it turned out, but together you figured it out and took a nicer picture. “…we both look sad.” You sighed and put the phone back into your pocket, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. The ocean breeze was surprisingly chilled. He nodded to agree and you watched him for longer than you should have. Even sad, he was handsome.

Even when he’d been fighting with you the night before, he’d accused you of thinking more about the memory of Kung Lao than your own feelings. But your feelings had been terrified of him and you had run and hid instead of confronting him. Hadn’t that been selfish? A thing he had not accused you of being. Your heart hurt.

He was right. You should talk. You hadto talk. Even if you locked yourselves in a room and screamed at each other until you broke or talked it out calmly, you had to find a way. But you weren’t ready to. For now, the sound of the waves breaking onto shore were soothing mixed with the sounds of families out for a stormy day on the beach. There was plenty of chaos to come, but for now, you sat side by side in relative peace.

Peace was a strong word.

You sat together troubled and sad but without judgment. You suffered separately but together.

Next Chapter >>

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Believe Because He is Good

a/n: I’ve been thinking of writing something like this and I read these beauties by @volleychumps and was inspired to just write out what was in my head. This is very much a self-comfort fic regarding my personal experience, ofc featuring my og hq mans :)

notes: y/e/n = your ex’s name. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) | warnings: asshole exes, implied past abuse (emotional, manipulation, slight physical), implied panic/anxiety attack | word count: 2,395

Balls were bouncing off the court, slapping the wood as Karasuno wound down, practicing serves. Even Noya tried his hand at serving, the ball smacking into the net. Tanaka laughed at Noya, ceasing when a volleyball knocked into his head. The culprit, Hinata, squeaked as Tanaka scrambled after him, Noya roaring with laughter all the while, gripping Asahi’s arm as he in turn knitted his brows together. Tsukishima rolled his eyes as Yamaguchi hid a giggle behind a hand.

Despite the chaos of Karasuno, an immense feeling of pure joy washed over you as you stood in the doorway of the gym. Nothing felt quite like seeing the team together. Their bond and their energy always lifted your spirits. And, of course, the handsome captain was the cherry on top.

“Great work today, guys!” Daichi called out to his team, signalling that practice was well over. They started to casually saunter over, Suga coming to take his place as vice next to his captain. “We’ve got a practice -- Nishinoya, Tanaka, shut it -- we’ve got a practice match next week, so I wanna see you all working hard to be ready. Shimizu and Yachi left early to run some errands for Sensei, so please do your best in cleaning up. Alright, get to it!” Daichi clapped, releasing the group to their chores.

As the group dwindled, you watched as Suga tapped Daichi’s arm and jutted his head in your direction. Confused, Daichi glanced towards you and instantly his face melted from slight exhaustion into absolute adoration. He bid goodbye to Suga who clapped him on the back with a mischievous grin in return, causing Daichi to cough.

You giggled, waving to Suga whose grin widened as he threw a peace sign up before turning to do his part in cleaning up. Daichi joined you at your place by the door, lightly touching a hand to your hip, leaning down to peck your lips in greeting.

“Hi, Y/n,” he welcomed warmly as he smoothly laced your hands together as if it were second nature.

“Hi yourself,” you replied. “Shimizu told me you’d need some help cleaning today.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Still, you didn’t have to come.”

“No,” you agreed, entertaining a wicked grin, “but I heard the captain of this team was really hot so I just had to come see for myself.”

Daichi grinned at your teasing. “Well, you should see the captain’s girlfriend. I heard that she’s a real looker.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, leaning in for another kiss which Daichi gladly gave. “So what can I help you with, Mr. Team Captain? Because with these boys you will most certainly need it.”

Daichi huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” He looked around, scanning the gym for a task you could take up. “Ah! You could take care of the water bottles, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Just dump them out, yeah?” Daichi nodded. “Seems simple enough. I’ll go do that and then when we’re done here we could go out for meat buns, maybe.”

“You struck another craving, haven’t you?”

“Your treat!” you teased in answer, snatching up the carton of bottles and escaping from the gym before Daichi could reply. Stepping out, you begin absentmindedly busying yourself with unscrewing the lids of each bottle as you make your way to the outdoor sinks. Focused on the task, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you’re crashing into them, effectively spilling the water you were on your way to empty. Well, that’s one way to do it.

“Oh, my gosh,” you crouched down, quickly picking up the bottles, “I am so so--” 

“Hi, Y/n,” the boy said, looking down at you with a tight lipped smile. He was a year your junior and also your ex. You had broken up with him at the beginning of summer vacation but had fortunately not seen him since, even through several months into the school year. You had foolishly hoped that your luck would continue and you would miraculously not ever see him again. But he was also a student at Karasuno and shared not only many of your extracurricular interests but also a handful of friends, of whom were responsible for setting you two up in the first place. What they didn’t know is that they were setting you up for disaster.

The relationship had started with no base friendship or really any genuine knowledge of the other besides the words of others from the grape vine. In retrospect, it was a plain bad idea. You two had fun at first but soon into your relationship, your boyfriend had begun pressuring you. He started with little things, subtly manipulating you until it was hard for you to recognize what your own boundaries genuinely were, as blurry as he made the lines. He was cunning and cornered you into situations you didn’t want to be in as easily as he could talk. He never complimented you, never made an effort for you, never validated you. Normally, you would stand up for yourself, speak out against this mistreatment, but something about him made you weak. And not in that head over heels kinda weak. The type of weak that drained you, that made you doubt yourself where you wouldn’t have before, that twisted your own strengths to look like hindrances.

It seems that even after months apart, he still had that same, nauseating effect on you.

“Hi, Y/e/n.” You forced a pretty smile, trying your best to stay polite and to ignore all of the sudden flowing emotions, not wanting to admit to him -- nor yourself -- that the damage he had done was still raw. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Still ever the clutz,” he laughed, something cruel and mocking.

You grit your teeth, smile impossibly tight. Whatever semblance of sanity you had left pleading for you to remain polite. “I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me--”

He abruptly put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Where’re you heading?” The thinly coated politeness was easy to see through when you had suffered through the consequences of believing it.

“To rinse these.” You lifted the carton of now mostly empty water bottles. You went to move past him and tried to brush off his hand, but it only tightened, his thumb painfully digging into the dip between your shoulder and your collarbone. You inhaled shapely at the resulting shock and pain.

The movement reminded you of other times he had done this subtle control, other times he had wanted you to just shut up and comply, other times he coerced you, forced you--

“Why don’t I accompany you, hm? It’s been awhile since we’ve had the opportunity to chat. Let’s catch up,” he said with a toothy smile that even his eyes carried. The familiarity of this compelled you to learned submissiveness, breaths desperately trying to claw their way from your throat. You tried to swallow them down, but they were clawing faster than you could handle.

“I have a job to do, Y/e/n.” Your voice sounded weak, even to your own ears. You weren’t fooling him. 

His thumb dug even harder. “C’mon it’s the least you can do after purposely spilling that water all over me--”

“It was an accident--!”

He raised his other hand, going in to grab your arm -- to gain more control over you -- when someone caught his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A voice said quietly, eerily so. Despite that, under its influence and familiarity, an intense calm washed over you, wrapping you in comfort and relief.

Turning, the image that greeted you of Daichi’s wrath was that of an angel of death, beautiful and fearsome in all of his glory. In his eyes he held enough heat to burn the ends of the earth. And it was all for you.

Your ex shook his wrist from Daichi’s grasp, trying to subtly shake it out. His grip on your shoulder loosened though he didn’t pull away. “I’m just catching up with an old… friend,” he spat, his polite veil thinly covering his malice.

“I’ve never known old friends to hurt each other in greeting.” Daichi was fuming, to say the least. Whatever you had against your ex, you were amazed at his sincere idiocracy. That, or his delusionment that he could genuinely stand level to Daichi.

“I wasn’t hurting her,” he sneered, “I was just saying hi.”

“You could do that without putting your hands on her. I suggest you take them off.”

Your ex snorted and glanced down at you, his hand squeezing reflexively. “Are you really just going to cower there and let him speak for you? You were always telling me what to do, I’m surprised you’re actually staying quiet.” You instinctively flinched away from him, tears threatening to sting your eyes. You knew he was wrong, that he was trying to hurt you, but that broken part of you couldn’t help but believe him.

Daichi, from the corner of his eyes, saw your distressed state, the sight causing his heart to lurch. In his eyes, you were absolutely incredible. So kind and giving and loving and it angered him to no end that anyone would be able to make you believe anything otherwise. He loved you, so incredibly much and he wanted nothing more than to protect you and keep loving you.

“Get off of me,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself that your ex no longer had any control over you.

Your ex smiled wickedly, finally taking his hand off. “There you go, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“And all you had to do was leave,” Daichi seethed.

“Sorry?” Your ex asked lamely.

“You’ve had your stupid fun, now leave. I’m giving you five seconds.” You looked at Daichi and almost flinched away from the absolute hatred burning in his features. The fire that was there before had grown impossibly hotter.

He laughed. Your asshole ex actually laughed in Daichi's face. "And what will you do?"

"Stay longer than five seconds and find out." As much as Daichi was wonderful and patient and mature, if something really got him going, he threw that all out the window. And perhaps that was Daichi's one fault. That he would gladly abandon reason when it came to you.

"Really?"

"Daichi," you breathed, "he's not worth it."

"No," your boyfriend agreed, "he's not. But it would be so satisfying." Without warning, Daichi lunged and gripped the front of your ex's shirt, pulling the shorter boy roughly to be chest to chest with him. Your ex gulped audibly, his tough persona crumbling away far too easily at a single physical touch. Granted, an angry Daichi held all the fury in the world barely contained in a wall of muscle. Even the word intimidating would be too much of an understatement. "Don't you ever touch her again. Don't look at her, don't talk to her -- in fact, stay far away from her," he snarled, boiling over like an animal on the hunt. He threw your ex away from him. You watched as he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and landing harshly on his ass. Daichi took advantage of this, squatting down over him before leaning in and whispering, "your five seconds are long gone. You can either leave or stay and find out what I can do."

Your ex glanced between you and Daichi, defiance somehow still lingering in his features. Seeing Daichi, though, had given you some courage and confidence as being around him often did. You believed in yourself again, just enough to look your ex in the eyes.

"Goodbye, Y/e/n."

He scrambled from his place on the ground (where he surely belonged, you thought bitterly) and disappeared from sight. You gasped for air, relieved he was gone, the anxiety that threatened to overtake you flooding from your body.

Daichi immediately turned to you, worry and love replacing the wrath in his eyes. "Can I hold you?"

"Please," you gasped, tears that rarely ever came already spilling silently down your cheeks.

With your permission, Daichi rushed from his crouch, pulling you gently to him as his hand came up to card through your hair. You clung onto him, holding him impossibly closer as you sobbed into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, pushing hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the love and comfort he provided.

"I love you, Y/n," he said as you lifted your gaze to meet his searching one, "I love you so much. I'm sorry you ever had to deal with that but… but I'm so glad that I'm here with you."

"I'm glad you're here with me, too," you sniffled, wiping at your face. "Where's everyone else?"

"Gone," he replied and you noticed for the first time that he was already changed out of his gym clothes. Just behind you was his discarded bag. "Suga and Asahi went on ahead. I thought it was odd that you didn't ever come back in so I came to check on you."

"I'm glad you did."

Daichi smiled softly. "I am too."

"I'm sorry you had to step in. I don't know why I couldn't handle it, I usually can it's just-- he--"

"Hey, hey," he lifted his other hand to your face, holding you as he gently coaxed you to look at him, "you have nothing to be sorry for."

"But--"

"No buts. You did a great job. You can't just erase what he did to you or how he made you feel. You're allowed to react the way you did, Y/n. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

Daichi smiled warmly. "Good. Now how about we put those bottles away and we go out for meat buns."

"Your treat?"

Daichi laughed, the sweet sound bringing a smile to your lips. "Yeah, my treat." He laced his fingers through yours, still grinning.

"Daichi?"

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Thank you. I love you."

His smile softened as he leaned down, kissing you softly. "I love you too, Y/n."

And because it was him, because Daichi was so kind and charming and good, you truly believed him.

taglist: @samwrights (ily mom)

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

You didn’t have any destination in mind, only “away”. Away from the dorms where Willa was sleeping, away from campus where someone else might see you. By your side was your trusted camera. Why you brought it, you weren’t sure. Its not like the two of you were going for a portrait session. You hated those types of shoots anyway. But you felt better with it. The bag was like an anchor, keeping you grounded. If things grew awkward or too silent, you could simply pull out the camera and start shooting. A handy distraction.

For the first few blocks, Minseok walked half a step behind you. Once the campus was merely an outline on the skyline behind, he stopped you with a warm hand on your wrist. It was a gentle tug, nothing forceful or demanding.

“Where are we going?”

You pursed your lips nervously. He hadn’t let go of your wrist and your skin was sparking from the contact. There was an urge to step forward and envelop yourself with him to feel that electricity all over. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, I did. But all we’ve done is walk.”

“Just a little further.”

His jaw twitched with the want to argue, but he dropped your wrist and waved for you to continue. Yes, you were simply putting off the actual talking part. He didn’t need to know that. Or he’d already guessed that and was simply allowing it to happen. You were scared of what might come out of your mouth if your feet stopped. But you couldn’t walk the earth forever. When a line of trees came into view, you sighed silently in your head. There. That would be the place to talk. You beelined for the forest, Minseok hurrying to catch up. You went in just deep enough to be invisible to the city.

“Okay,” you said as you turned around. “Talk.”

Minseok looked taken aback by your sudden attack. “I… um, I just….” He finished off with a sigh that blew up his rounded cheeks. When he didn’t continue, you pulled out your camera and snapped a picture of him. He blinked at the sudden flash. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “You weren’t doing anything else.”

You continue to take pictures of nothing. It felt wrong to not actually think about what you were capturing, but it was all an act. You needed to be doing something so you didn’t spiral into an interrogation. By it’s own will, your camera turned to Minseok and snapped another candid.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” You could tell he wasn’t used to being the subject of a photo. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and looked off to side, only giving you profile.

“Yup,” you answered gleefully, snapping another picture. “At least until you tell me what you wanted to talk about.” Now you got a slight smile. He moved back to face you fully and reached out for the camera.

“Come on. That’s not fair.”

You easily evaded him. “No, what’s not fair is showing up randomly at my dorm and saying you need to talk and then not saying anything.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” You took another picture. He pounced again. You dodge again. So, he mixed up his strategy. Instead of going for the camera, he went for your waist. That, you couldn’t dodge and the two of you crashed down on the grass below. The camera flew from your fingers and a horror ran through you at the thought of it being damaged. Being the hero with incredible reflexes, Minseok caught it safely in his palm. The strap swung calmly in the breeze, unaware of what almost was.

“Oh, thank god.” You tried to take back from him, but he held it out of reach. The position the two of you were in gave him the advantage. So close was his face that you could feel his quick, shallow breath against your nose. Everything stopped. No longer could you hear the soft rustling of the leaves or the distance hums of car engines. Only Minseok was in focus as the two of you lied on the forest floor, mere feet from the city but so far away at the same time.

“(y/n), I….” His voice came out scared, unsure. He frowned and looked away like he was chasing after the words he wanted to say. Finally, he caught up with them. “What I wanted to say was... I… like you.”

Your breath halted in your throat. When the tension was unspoken, it was safe. But with his confession you were now forced to examine that fork in the road. It terrified you. Making the wrong decision terrified you. If only you could have avoided it forever. A luxury that never existed. “Minseok, I-”

“I know we haven’t known each other long,” he said, cutting you off. “And I know you have a boyfriend, but I just had to say… something.” It didn’t feel like the end of what he wanted to say, but nothing else came out.

You left his words hang in the tiny space between you and him. I like you, too. That’s what you wanted to say. He’d been brave enough to tell you and yet, you were a coward. In your silence, he lifted his hand and brushed away a blade of grass from your cheek. The electricity that you should have expected still stunned you. How could he transfer so much energy with the slightest of touches? It was only the tips of his fingers, but your whole cheek was aflame.

Minseok’s eyes flickered down to the bottom half of your face, to your lips. He snuck another peek at you as if asking for permission before looking down once again, leaning in closer. And you let him. You let him come closer at a snail’s pace. He was giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t want to. How many times had you accidentally found yourself fantasizing about a moment like this? Far too many. You’d asked yourself if his lips would be soft, if they would be warm and gentle. Now you could find out.

But it was spoiled by circumstances. You couldn’t do this. Not now.

At the last second, you pulled away, standing. “I have to go.”

“(y/n)-”

You grabbed your camera and shoved back into its bag. “Good night, Minseok.”

“At least let me see you back to your dorm. It’s dark out and-”

“I’ll be fine.” You ran out back into the city, back to reality, not giving him the chance further a logical argument. You needed to get away before you turned around and found the answers, right or wrong.

The whole way home you beat yourself. Leaving with him in the first place was wrong. It seemed you were constantly making the wrong decision these days. Back at the dorm, you quietly slipped into your room, careful not to wake Willa. It didn’t work.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah, its just me,” you whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“M-kay.” In the dark you could barely make out the lump on her bed flipping over.

As you headed for your own mattress, you stripped off your clothes and blindly felt for the t-shirt you typically slept in. Under the covers, you lied there, staring at the wall. A single tear fell down your cheek. You stopped it in its track. It stayed on the tip of your middle finger as you brought it out in front of you. Great. Now you were crying.

What the hell were you going to do?

**

Minseok was unable to move. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. It had all gone so quick. First he was silent, then he was speaking words and almost kissing you. His confession – if it could be called that – hadn’t done any good. It was stupid to go about it in this manner.

He’d wanted to tell you everything and all he gave you was a small sliver of the truth. The word “like” was an understatement. Mate or not, he was falling in love with you. He was fascinated with the way your mind worked, like an artist’s. It was so different than his more analytical nature. The way you smiled, the way you laughed. To him, those sights and sounds that belonged only to you made him feel like he’d been living in an isolated cave his whole life and was only now coming out to discover the surface.

Grabbing a fist full of grass, Minseok threw the blades into the air in front of him. The anger still didn’t dissipate. He fell back, his head hitting the dirt with a thunk. The pain was easy to ignore. His focus was completely on how stupid he was. How stupid this whole mate situation was. Maybe Jongdae had the right attitude all along.

No. Minseok wasn’t that bitter about life. Maybe he would have been if his parents had dropped him off at a relative’s house with absolutely no explanation of his heritage, but Minseok grew up in a fun, loving home. He was raised to be optimistic.

Sitting up, Minseok sighed. He wondered if he’d messed the whole thing up. For now, he’d give you space. Even though it felt impossible not to follow his instincts. He didn’t want to come across as desperate as he felt. He just hoped that the two of you could come together, before the consequence came to light.

**

It had been three days and you were still stewing over Minseok’s confession. Your heart went back and forth between being elated and being bogged down with worry and guilt. While Erik sat across from you at the table in the student cafeteria, you clicked through the pictures you’d taken of Minseok that night. A smile subconsciously pulled at the corners of your lips.

“(y/n)?”

Your head snapped up. “Yeah?”

Erik pushed his glasses up his nose. His pen was bouncing off his textbook. Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk. “Are you okay? You seem distracted lately.”

You feigned ignorance. “I’m always distracted.”

“This is different. I feel like you’re so far away lately. Something’s happened in the past few weeks.”

“Nothing’s happened!” Because acting defensive always worked. You slid back the chair, the legs scarping against the tile with a high pictured squeal. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Erik didn’t try to stop you at all. You’d left your things behind so he knew you’d be back. Luck decided to throw you a bone and give you an empty bathroom to sulk in. Letting the water run, you waited until it was freezing before splashing your face. The burst of cold to your skin made you gasp. With a paper towel you dabbed at the water droplets left behind until you felt somewhat dry again. In the movies, a scene like that came with clarity, a decision and an answer sparkling in the mirror as realization hit. No such moment came for you. All you were left with were two wet eyebrows and smeared makeup. Wonderful. Tossing the paper towel into the trash, you left the restroom and headed back to the table.

When you arrived, you couldn’t sit back down.

Erik had your camera. His thumb hit the arrows back and forth. He flipped through the film furiously. It didn’t take a psychic to know which photos he was looking at. “You used to take pictures of me like this.”

“Erik-”

Sighing, he put the camera back down, pushing it gently to your side of the table. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, huh? Freshman relationships don’t usually last as long as ours. It was only a matter of time.”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“If you say it’s not, then I’ll believe you. Everyone’s allowed to have friends. But… you don’t even use the notebook I gave you anyone.”

You flinched back at that comment. “I… lost it. I’m sorry.”

Erik’s reply was a nod. He stood up, gathering his things and putting them into his bag. He started to walk away but paused just as he passed you. “I think we should take a break.”

“A break?”

“For now.”

You collapsed in the chair as soon as he was gone. What a mess you’d made. And you hadn’t even really done anything. Were changing feelings really such a crime? Being here wasn’t giving you any room to think. You needed solitude, space.

The woods.

You were in the car and down the street before you could blink. The road was so familiar by now that you didn’t even remember actually driving. Getting out of the car, you threw your unneeded school supplies in the trunk while keeping some essentials and personals. For good measure, you turned your phone off. You didn’t get great service out here anyway. It was a spin wheel if the call came through or not. So, the trek began.

You pushed your way through the trees in the direction of the clearing. More leaves had fallen since your last visit, leaving a fresh carpet of brown and green for you to walk on. It muffled your steps. The forest sounded quiet today. Hardly any birds chirped and no bunnies came running across your path. The lack of wildlife caused your heart to race. You worried if you’d made a mistake coming here. When the clearing came into view, you stopped.

Near the middle of the field lied the wolf. He was alone. His ears flicked every few seconds or so, possibly picking up on the noises of life around him. But why was he just lying there? It was odd behavior for a wolf. Or, so you figured. Zoology was not your major. Your fingers twitched towards your camera, but you thought better of it. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to simply… watch him. It was calming, being in this wild animal’s presence. He looked so peaceful. You didn’t want to disturb him so you decided to stay on the outskirts.  

Ten minutes went by and the wolf decided he was done. He stood up on all four legs and turned to walk in the direction opposite of you.

Follow him.

You blinked. That reaction came from nowhere. Following a wild animal deeper into the woods was something only a crazy person would do.

Apparently, someone needed to put a jacket on you and call you crazy.

You kept your distance, far back enough to not spook him but still be able to keep him in your line of vision. He walked for what felt like miles. You’d never been in this part of the forest before. Which made this even more of a ridiculous adventure. The only consolation prize was the fact that he didn’t zig zag around, so you had a straight shot back to the clearing. You should be able to make your way back to your car from there. Up head, the tree line broke. It gave way to another clearing, but this one was far larger with two buildings sitting near the center. You stayed back, clinging to one of the last trees for cover as you watched the wolf walk towards the front porch. A familiar looking man stepped out and waived to the wolf. Was he their pet?

No.

The answer was a big, glaring No.

The wolf’s shoulders shivered and rolled. His body morphed like clay until he was no longer on four legs. You gasped.

Minseok.

Both men’s eyes snapped in your direction. You made eye contact with them both, then you turned and ran for your life.

You didn’t make it far. Minseok caught up with you easily.

“(y/n), wait!”

“Stay away from me!”

He did exactly the opposite, tackling you from the back. You both rolled in the leaves as you fought him off.

“Let me go! Don’t touch me!” Your last scream was enough to make him step back. You pushed yourself to your knees. Each breath was a huff as you tried to recover from the sprint. You could feel the fear emanated from your eyes.

Minseok held his hands up as if that would be enough to convince you he was harmless. “I can explain.”

“What are you?” you demanded.

“I’m….” He cringed as he sucked back the word you both knew he was going to say. “I’m a… werewolf.”

“Its you, isn’t?” You pushed yourself up onto shaking legs. All the stories you’d read as a child, all the movies you’d consumed, and all the folklore from around the world told you what kind of creatures werewolves were. “You are the one who killed those campers, aren’t you?”

“No! It was another wolf. A rogue!”

You shook your head. “How am I supposed to believe that? You’re not even supposed to exist! Was this all a game? Lure me into a false sense of security before you ripped me apart?”

“No, (y/n), listen to me!” He was in front of you, hands on your shoulders before you could react. “I. Did not. Kill. Them. And I would never hurt you. There’s a rogue omega around here and we haven’t caught him yet. Please, I’m begging you. Come back to the house with me and I will explain everything.”

“Why do we have to go back to the house?”

“So I can put on some clothes.”

You coughed and shifted your eyes high to the sky. “Oh, right.”

Minseok held his hand out for you to take, but you let it hang there in the air as you passed him. You heard him sigh behind you then his footsteps fell into rhythm with yours.

[sssn-neptune-vasilias]

So like, Ironwood’s clearly tumbling down the staircase towards authoritarianism so I just wanted to clarify my points about him because I did agree with a lot of what he was saying during the first couple of seasons up until he decided to completely throw himself off the boat without a life preserver. Also I don’t want y’all calling me an authoritarian (or fascist, Tumblr really doesn’t like to learn the difference between the different kinds of authoritarianisms and just lumps them all under fascism because why take a class when you can just say words?).

1) I think Ironwood was right to bring his airships to Beacon and frankly I think the other headmasters should’ve as well. Obviously no other Kingdom works like Mantle/Atlas- they’re the only one where the Hunter Academy is a direct branch of the kingdom’s military- but SOME protection should’ve been brought from Shade and Haven as well as Beacon. The Vytal tournament was an incredibly important part of Remnant culture, and ANYBODY could’ve seen that as a chance to strike. Any terrorist organization, anybody with a grudge, anybody with an agenda could’ve seen a giant float collessum and decided it’d look better crashing towards the ground. I think Ozpin, Lionheart and Theodore were hugely negligent not requesting SOME kind of military support from their respective kingdoms to watch over the event. Just think about it, that would’ve created FOUR different systems Cinder would’ve needed to hack into instead of one. The other three headmasters didn’t bring security and relied completely on Ironwood to save them when shit hit the fan. Ozpin’s words to Ironwood will always be hilarious to me. “You brought your army to my kingdom James… Use it!” The same army that he swore brought more harm than good? The same army he promised would be ineffective in keeping the peace? Now all of a sudden he’s begging for it? Ozpin of all people should’ve been READY for something like this. He’s closer to Salem than ANYONE he should’ve KNOWN that she would use an opportunity like this to strike. A wounded and defenseless Maiden locked in Beacon tower, a one-woman army infiltrating an SDC tower and leaving no recognizable trace other than a wake of bodies, a breach where “hundreds of people were killed” just weeks before, then Yang’s random and brutal “attack” on a seemingly defenseless student? Ozpin should’ve seen the signs of an imminent attack and acted proactively to ensure the safety of not just Beacon but the world. And instead he was too clueless to even ask for a security detail. He claimed that there was peace in Remnant, and that there was no need to upset people by bringing weapons of war, but peace needs to be defended. The Fall of Beacon was proof of what happens when you wait too long to defend yourself. Bringing in other kingdom’s defenses would’ve also shot one of Cinder’s weird monologue in the foot. She calls Ironwood a “tyrannical dictator” who “occupied an unsuspecting kingdom with armed forces” but if Ozpin had REQUESTED those airships? Maybe not even all of them but SOME? And brought his OWN? It would’ve just been business as usual instead of some kind of “invasion” from a previously adversarial nation. Ozpin’s complacency gave Cinder another nail to shut the coffin with. Did Ironwood overstep bringing ALL those ships without a warning? Absolutely, and whoever’s running Vale is out of their mind for not engaging their defenses to deter those ships before they entered Vale airspace in the first place. Should an equal number of ships all flying different flags have been there ANYWAY to stop something like the Breach or the Fall happening? Absolutely.

2) I think Ironwood’s plan is the right move. Let me clarify, the “tell the world about Salem” plan is the right move. “Unite the world against a common enemy” is the right move. “Expose the enemy for who she is and force her to leave the comfort of the shadows and engage in an actual war instead of the silly chess game proxy war you’ve been engaged in all this time.” If you expose Salem and make her a target, she crumbles. Anyone working for her is a top of the most wanted list, and it’s impossible for her to infiltrate and manipulate behind the scenes as she’s been doing. Her only army is Grimm and the kingdoms have been doing decently against them for centuries. I think Ironwood’s got a good idea, and Ozma was just too jaded by his centuries of life to believe that the world would pull together the way it needed to to band against Salem.

That said, I think Ironwood’s entire plan was a necessary evil. “Pull all Atlesian forces and resources out of Remnant and back into Mantle, to ride out the waves of Grimm that would come to tear the kingdom down after they learned about Salem.” It was a well thought out plan! He had STEPS. He KNEW that people would panic and planned AROUND that! For a “tin man” with no heart, he sure as fuck knew how to account for everyone else’s. Argus would suffer for this, sure, but he left them with a giant fucking jaegar, a Pacific Rim style wall around its biggest weak point, and enough air ships and guns to hold off a small scale invasion. Argus was also a unique situation where it was Mistral’s responsibility that Atlas elected to care for. We haven’t heard of any similar cities like this. He wanted to keep his people safe. And I know that’s a slap in the face to all of the people of Mantle who were living in the beginning stages of authoritarian rule for MONTHS, but I think the ends justify the means here. Ironwood’s plan was never to subjugate his people indefinitely, but to keep them safe until the worst had passed. I REALLY think Ironwood’s plan would’ve worked, and CLEARLY Salem does too, otherwise she wouldn’t be sending the biggest Grimm army ever seen and a whale the size of a fucking island to stop him. Telling Remnant about Salem was and still is a good plan, and drawing his troops and resources back to handle the fallout of it was a smart choice.

3) I think Ironwood is right to try abandon Mantle, and frankly I think he should’ve done it sooner. Ironwood is right, if Salem destroys Atlas, she destroys Remnant’s only hope of defeating her. Mistral and Haven were already attacked by the White Fang and Cinder’s crew without so much as a finger raised against them. Have fun reading the books to find out what’s happening in Shade. If Ironwood doesn’t save A) the power of the Winter Maiden B) the staff of creation, C) the lamp of knowledge AND D) as much of Atlas as he can, we’re fucked, and we’ve already lost the fucking lamp. The WORLD is fucked if we don’t stop Salem. And even KNOWING all of this, Ironwood waited until he had definitive proof that the enemy had already invaded Atlas before moving to leave. Tyrian and Watts were one thing, but Salem leaving her chess piece on his desk without him even knowing she was there? I can’t blame him for being scared. I can’t blame him for wanting to leave ASAP. Frankly I can’t blame him for calling RWBYJNRQOP naive. Saving every individual person down in Mantle would doom Atlas as a whole, and by extension the world. I don’t think I would’ve been able to fight against RWBY for wanting to risk saving everyone, but I don’t think I would’ve been able to fight with RWBY for the chance to take the risk either.

Last season was super political, which was a first for RWBY. Yeah, the writing’s ALWAYS been on the walls that Ironwood would take these steps into authoritarianism, and last episode had him breaking out into a full sprint. He straight up shot a member of his opposition! And that guy wasn’t even EXPLICITLY opposition, he was just questioning how Ironwood was handling the situation! I don’t think anyone can honestly say they’re surprised by this, and it’s super important to not just be against authoritarianism, but actively against it. We can’t condone it and must uproot it wherever it even begins to take hold. That said, I will say that, up to a point, Ironwood’s had good ideas on helping to save the world, while RWBY’ve been cutely optimistic but not very pragmatic in their “save every life no matter the cost” approach. And let’s be real, the show is called “RWBY” not “Ironwood” so I’m fully expecting the narrative to play out in a way that validates RWBY and demonizes Ironwood. I’m fully expecting Ironwood to completely fly off the walls as Salem draws nearer. I’m fully expecting to want to kick myself for agreeing with his motivations during season 7. I’m just writing this so that there’s a clear record of my stance not only for my followers (and for people ready to make callout posts, here you go 😉) but for myself too! So I can see if my stance changes and where I was before. So here you go future Tobias. Good luck!

[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor (14/14) (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: WAAH the end is here!! thank u to everyone who’s ever liked, reblogged or commented on this, it means the world!! hope u enjoy the final chapter! it’s finale time babeyyy

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

*****

12th December, 2020

The glitterball is casting a thousand mirrors onto the dancefloor and the bodies of the girls around her as Vanessa moves gracefully across the ballroom, twirl, twirl, twirl, STOP, kick-and-kick, kick-and-kick. She feels like a little clockwork doll as she completes each move perfectly in sync with Crystal and Courtney beside her, and with all the lights beaming down on her and the knowledge she’s got her girlfriend out there watching her it’s as if she’s made of a million diamonds.

“All these bad times I’m goin’ through, just dance…got canned heat in my heels tonight baby…”

On the last beat she freezes back to back against Phi Phi on her other side, and as the pros all hold their positions the celebrities in the audience cheer and screech and clap loudly for them. Vanessa supposes it’s weird to still be calling them the celebrities; they’re part of the huge big Strictly family now, and it’s so sad that in a matter of hours the whole experience will be over for another year and they’ll have to say goodbye to each other. Well. In theory they will, but for the endless amount of them who seem to have struck up relationships over the course of the show not much will probably change.

Melting out of their poses, the dancers all laugh, hug and hi-five each other, glad they managed to do so well in the dress rehearsal. As they all walk back over to the seats in the audience Vanessa sees Brooke’s bright smile and twinkling eyes as she puts her hands together in a series of tiny little claps just for her.

“You were so good out there! Well done,” she gasps encouragingly, holding her arms out to her for a hug which Vanessa gladly accepts.

It’s crazy how Brooke’s arms have become such a familiar and comforting place for Vanessa, and the feeling of her girlfriend all warm and soft around her makes her feel like her stomach’s full of butterflies. As the hug breaks, Vanessa tilts her chin up to kiss Brooke once, twice, three times, the pair of them smiling at each other all goofy and dumb and happy. They never really announced their relationship to the other pros (apart from to Monique and Akeria, of course, who received a number of loud voicenotes from Vanessa in the Uber back from Brooke’s the morning after she’d stayed over). To their credit, the other girls have barely batted an eye to the occasional coupled-up displays on show; apart from Crystal squealing and gushing about how cute they are and Jan giving Vanessa a sneaky wink and mouthing a told you so.

Vanessa doesn’t mind, though. Being with Brooke feels like being on a boat in a harbour; calm, anchored, safe. They’ve only really been girlfriends for a week but in Vanessa’s eyes it feels like a lot longer. If she’s been worried about not seeing Brooke after they were kicked out of the competition then Brooke has done everything she can to assuage those fears. On Tuesday they went for late-night drinks at a quiet bar in the middle of buttfuck nowhere to make extra sure there would be no press lingering about. On Wednesday Vanessa had picked Brooke up from filming and Brooke had introduced her to her co-presenter Nina, who’d gasped and hugged her and said she’d heard so much about her (which in turn made Brooke blush, to Vanessa’s delight). And on Friday Vanessa had stayed at Brooke’s again ahead of their busy day today, and they’d made cookies together and taken them in for everyone to snack on during the dress run. It all feels like paradise, the best kind of dream that Vanessa wants to stay in forever.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop bragging about how my girlfriend is the best pro dancer on the whole show,” Brooke says proudly, Vanessa going all giggly and flattered in her arms. Just then, Jackie leans forward from the row of seats behind them.

“Aw, don’t tell me you and Jan have been having an affair?!” she teases lazily, and Brooke makes a childish face at her as she sits down on her own seat, dragging Vanessa with her onto her lap.

“I said best pro dancer, not best crier,” Brooke deadpans, then flinches and gives a cry as she’s hit on the back of the head with an empty plastic water bottle. As Vanessa howls with laughter, she turns around to see who the culprit is- an incredibly unamused Jan.

“Hey, you two cried when you left too!”

“Only cried because I thought I’d never get to grind against Brooke again,” Vanessa jokes, getting a laugh from the two girls behind her and a long-suffering glare from Brooke. As if to punctuate her point Vanessa wiggles a little in her lap, and the glare turns challenging with a minute raise of Brooke’s eyebrows. If Vanessa has anything to do with it she’ll be paying for that later. She can’t wait.

“Are we talking about grinding against our girls?” Crystal asks inquisitively from a few seats along. “Gigi’s impossible. Her hipbones are like razor blades.”

“Hey, I’m not that skinny!” Gigi objects from beside her, Crystal placating her by taking her hand and kissing it as the other girls laugh. Vanessa’s not sure when those two actually got their shit together, but she’s glad they did. She knows how much Crystal had been crushing on Gigi, and she’s happy that another set of girls get to be happy too.

“You done with your fitting then, Crys?” Vanessa asks. She knows all the finalists got called to wardrobe straight after their rehearsal, and it still looks as if Akeria and Monique aren’t done yet.

“Yeah. The skirt is so long, though, God knows how I’m gonna dance in it.”

“How’re you feeling, Gigi?” Jan asks politely, the finalist going vaguely green beside her partner.

“Like I drank a bucket of cold sick.”

“How poetic,” Crystal rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine! Better than fine. You’ll be amazing. You’ve got me!”

“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Gigi deadpans, and as the girls roar with laughter Vanessa catches Gigi reassuring Crystal that she was only kidding, kissing her cheek for good measure.

Vanessa cranes her neck, searching the studio. When her eyes don’t fall on the people she’s looking for, she turns to Gigi and Crystal again. “Hey, you know if Kiki and Monique are done yet?”

“Nah. Still there,” Gigi says, sipping from her water bottle on one hand with her other still curled round Crystal’s.

“Right. I’m gonna go wish ‘em good luck in case I don’t see them before the show,” Vanessa says decisively, making to stand up. Brooke pulls her back into her lap, fixing her with a pout and a kissy face.

“Needy,” Vanessa teases, before pressing three little kisses to her lips that the other girls either simper, fake-vomit or wolf-whistle at.

It’s not hard to find Akeria and Monique; they’re both still in wardrobe with their partners, although Monique looks as if she is done and Akeria is dressed in her showdance dress, a riot of silver and gold sequined fringing. Asia’s is matching, and they both look like identical twins as they’re prodded with pins and needles and measured with lengths of tape.

“Wow, you two look stunnin’,” Vanessa says by way of a greeting, to which Akeria’s face lights up in delight.

“Hey boo!” she beams, holding her arms out for a hug and then forgetting she’s practically rendered immobile for the time being.

Monique greets her too, but she’s muted and quiet as she sits on the small sofa beside Monet. She looks nervous. It’s rare that Monique gets nervous. In all the time Vanessa’s known her and all the contests they’ve competed in together, she has hardly ever seen Monique look anything other than 100% sure of herself.

“How you all feelin’?” Vanessa asks, laughing as Asia sticks her tongue between her teeth and makes a noise like a big wet fart.

“Nervous as hell. I’m just gonna go out there and have a good time, though. If we win, we win, and if we don’t, well…the public have no taste.”

Akeria points at her in approval and agreement, and Vanessa’s gaze turns to Monet.

“I’m just excited! I’m not ready for the whole thing to be over. Think I’m just gonna go out an’ have fun, like Asia. But I’ve not been able to get a word out of this one all day,” she gently nudges Monique with her knee, threads her arm around her waist. “And y’know, usually I’d be overjoyed about getting a bit of peace, but it’s unnerving. I think she’s more nervous than I am.”

Monique looks up at Monet with a small smile, but her brow’s still furrowed in worry.

“I just don’t wanna let you down. You work so hard every damn day an’ you deserve the win so much. I mean what if I do fuck somethin’ up? Forget a step or do somethin’ wrong?”

“Monique,” Vanessa interjects, her lip curling in disbelief. “You are a literal dance champion. You have three trophy cabinets at your family home- don’t deny it, I’ve seen ‘em. You’re a professional dancer, for Christ’s sake! Why are you so nervous about this in particular?”

“Because she wants to win it for her boo,” Akiera raises her eyebrows at the pair of them on the sofa, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the way Monique grows all bashful and Monet develops a slightly smug smile.

“That ain’t it at all! It’s just…it’s my first final, and yeah I’m nervous, and not gonna lie, I wanna win. And…” Monique trails off as she looks at Monet. “…okay, I kind of am putting myself under more pressure because it’s you.”

Vanessa and Akeria cast each other a knowing glance, one that lets Akeria communicate to her just how correct she was.

“Babe,” Monet chuckles, pulling Monique closer. “I got six Brit awards, two MOBOs, two number ones an’ a top five album. Winning tonight would be nice, but…there’s more important things to me, like the pair of us havin’ fun together. Besides. I already won when I got partnered with you, so.”

Monet tails off, a little embarrassed at how soppy she’s got in front of the others, but Vanessa thinks it’s worth it when she sees how Monique lights up at her words.

“Go on, kiss her. It’ll make Akeria sick, an’ that’s funny,” Vanessa teases, and as Akeria rolls her eyes at her Monique peppers Monet’s face with grateful kisses.

“Now listen,” Vanessa speaks again, her tone sincere as she steps forwards and takes her friend’s hands. “If I don’t see you both before the final…go get that glitterball, okay? Do it for all three of us, we said one of us would take it. Have fun, do your best. But whatever happens, I’m so proud of you both.”

“Shut up. You’re gonna make me cry,” Akeria says stoically, but Vanessa knows there’s love behind it.

“Love you, V,” Monique smiles tearfully, untangling herself from Monet’s arms and moving to hug her.

“Fuck it,” Akeria shrugs, gingerly putting her arms around the pair of her friends.

Vanessa hopes she’s conveying with her hug just how much she loves her sisters, how desperately proud of them she is and how much luck she’s wishing them both. It’s so crazy for her to think about the three of them, in their late teens with their hair scraped back into tight buns and too much makeup on their face, meeting for the first time at the tower ballroom all those years ago. Now Akeria and Monique are in the final, and Vanessa gets to watch them.

She can’t quite believe this is her life.

In the green room all the other girls are chatting excitedly, happy they’re not under any pressures tonight other than to do the group dances well, have fun, and cheer loudly for their friends. Some of the girls are doing some last-minute touch-ups at the mirrors and some have spilled out onto the floor, surrounded by boxes of pizza that remind Vanessa of how hungry she is and make her stomach rumble. Her eyes eventually land on Brooke, tucked up in a corner eating a slice of pepperoni and busy scrolling her phone which is plugged into the wall. She’s wearing one of the dressing gowns that production provides them with, clearly too cold in her opening dance outfit. The sight makes Vanessa’s heart melt a little bit and she crosses the room to meet her.

“Hey! Woah, watch!” Brooke laughs, as Vanessa wraps her whole body around her- arms around Brooke’s head, thighs around her waist- and clings to her like a koala. “You’ll get pizza grease on your dress and then costume will shout at you.”

“You looked cold,” Vanessa mutters against her hair, by way of explanation.

It’s too late when she notices Brooke editing the photo for her Instagram story- Vanessa’s head resting on top of hers and Brooke pulling a silly face for the selfie.

Sleepy baby ahead of the finale, Brooke types, and Vanessa’s heart grows all warm.

“That’s gonna raise some suspicion, y’know,” Vanessa smirks, tapping her nail against the word baby as she releases her girlfriend from the full-body hug and settles herself down beside her.

“What? You are a sleepy baby. It’s just a fact,” Brooke shrugs, making Vanessa laugh. Brooke’s reaction makes her consider something.

“Hey, d’you think we should wait til we’re asked about us to say that we’re together? Y’know, in like, an interview? Or should we make like…an announcement?” she asks her, Brooke snorting at her last sentence.

“An announcement! We’re not the royal family, baby, let’s chill,” she taps her on the nose, and Vanessa huffs beside her.

“Well! Our fans might still want to know. I don’t know if you’ve looked at either of our comment sections lately, but they’re both full of kids wanting to know if there’s anything going on between us.”

“I think wait to be asked,” Brooke shrugs, to which Vanessa raises her eyebrows at her.

“We already got asked! And we denied there was anything at all going on!” she laughs, thinking back to their It Takes Two elimination interview where Cheryl had grilled them on their relationship status, and they’d had to smile and laugh and say they were just friends.

(Although the way Brooke had pushed her up against the wall backstage to kiss her afterwards, unable to keep her hands off her, begged to differ.)

“Well, they’ll ask again! I’ll be mad if they don’t,” Brooke huffs, making Vanessa giggle all the more.

There’s a lull in the conversation where Brooke leans over to her side, hands Vanessa a pizza box with three slices of pepperoni inside it. “Saved you some. I knew these vultures would be ruthless. I think Willam’s had five slices already, fuck knows how she’s going to dance.”

Vanessa laughs out a thank you, taking a slice that’s gone from hot to warm but biting into it regardless. As Brooke nibbles on her crust and the pair of them chew contentedly, Vanessa nudges Brooke’s calf with her foot.

“What’re you doin’ this week? I wanna see you.”

Brooke tilts her head in thought. “I’ve got Wednesday off filming. Other than that I’m free most afternoons and…Friday night.”

Vanessa pouts. “So I can’t stay over Tuesday?”

“I’ll get back from filming at, like, nine. But you can stay over, of course you can! You might need to make dinner, though. Ooh, or we could get Chinese?”

It makes Vanessa feel all excited and tingly, the fact that she and Brooke get to do this. Plan their week together and what they want to do; endless little futures, dreams becoming real. Each time Vanessa spends time with her girlfriend she swears she’s one step closer to telling her exactly how she feels about her, words she’s not said properly in quite a while. It’s a scary feeling, but an exciting one, like being on a rollercoaster or doing a bungee jump.

Brooke sees the dopey smile on her face and laughs. “What?”

“I’m just happy we get to do this. Just be together an’ do coupley shit. Never thought I’d be able to do all this again with someone,” she smiles shyly, and her words make Brooke lean in and kiss her forehead. Vanessa suddenly remembers something and flinches. “Pizza grease lips!”

“Oh, relax. They’ll stick some foundation on it and you’ll be fine,” Brooke pouts, cuddling her closer. “Hey, when do you fly back home for Christmas?”

“20th. You?”

“21st,” Brooke says, then sighs and takes Vanessa’s hand. “Will it give you the ick if I say I’m going to miss you? Like, a lot?”

“Shut up, not at all!” Vanessa tips her head back to laugh, incredulous. She brings Brooke’s hand up and kisses it three times in quick succession. “I’m gonna miss you too. But hey, when we get back we’ll have rehearsals an’ then the tour. It’ll be almost like we’re back doin’ the show!”

Brooke perks up beside her, and Vanessa uses the small pause in conversation to take another bite of her pizza, being ever-so-careful not to have it touch her lipstick.

“Where’re you most excited for?”

Vanessa looks back at Brooke and blinks, her train of thought lost. “What?”

“On the tour. Where are you looking forward to the most?” Brooke asks again patiently. Vanessa thinks, then raises her eyebrows as she decides.

“Belfast is nice. Good places to eat, good nights out. An’ the river is so gorge when it’s night and all the buildings around it are lit up.”

Brooke waggles her eyebrows. “You’re going to be taking me on some romantic midnight walks, then?”

Vanessa laughs, winks at her. “If you’re lucky. What about you, boo, where you excited for?”

Brooke tilts her head in thought. “Aberdeen interests me.”

Vanessa can’t help the laugh she splutters out. “Oh, baby. Aberdeen is dead, there’s fuckin’…nothin’ there. If we’re talkin’ Scotland then Glasgow is the best. They know how to party in Glasgow. I remember the first year we did the tour me an’ a few of the other girls had a night out there. Well Lord Jesus if it wasn’t the most chaotic night out we ever had. It was like a renaissance paintin’ or some shit. Kiki an’ Monique were just standin’ there open-mouthed at everything but me an’ Crystal were lovin’ it. Reminded us of nights out back home but on steroids.”

Brooke laughs, hums as something occurs to her mid-pizza slice. “Newcastle, though. That’s a good night out.”

“Y’know what we need to prioritise? Cute date venues. That’s what we can do while we’re both away! Make a list of all the cities on the tour an’ look up good places to eat an’ things to do,” Vanessa says enthusiastically, watches Brooke’s face light up in response. It makes Vanessa’s heart happy to know that Brooke’s as invested in the pair of them as she is, the concept of them being them.

The pair of them spend the time leading up to the finale chatting excitedly with the other girls, singing loudly along to the songs playing through the speakers with the other, and finishing off the pizza. Vanessa thinks it’s interesting seeing how all the different new couples behave. Vixen and Blair are low-key and subtle; a squeeze of each others’ hand here, a shared look of affection there. In contrast, Jan and Jackie can’t help but kiss each other on the cheek every few minutes or so, vocal and proud of each other and wanting all the other girls to know it. Willam and Courtney’s budding relationship seems to be built on Willam gently bullying Courtney, and Yvie and Scarlet’s built on Yvie laughing at things Scarlet does, even if she doesn’t mean to be funny. Gigi and Crystal are shy and still a little nervous and Jackie thinks it’s funny to call them out on it every so often and make them blush furiously. Monique is bashful and secretive and Monet is loud and public, clearly wanting everyone to know how loved-up she is.

It’s funny the way that a simple dancing competition has brought so many different girls from so many different walks of life together, who might not ever have met otherwise but now have the chance to build a future with each other. It’s nice, Vanessa thinks, as she puts her arm around her own future that’s sitting beside her, howling at a joke Yvie’s made.

Soon enough, the girls are all called through to assemble on the ballroom floor. Vanessa slips her hand into Brooke’s as they make their way through the corridors that are hidden from view with huge black drapes, her heart pounding in anticipation. It’s a bittersweet feeling; the last time she and Brooke are going to be dancing together on the ballroom floor, the last time she’s going to be dancing with the other pros for a while at least. But she wants to make it count, and she wants to be the best she can be, so she tips the scales in her mind to the more positive side, squeezes Brooke’s hand and kisses her on the cheek as they wait to be told to assemble.

“So proud of you,” Brooke murmurs against her hair, having not quite pulled away yet.

“So proud of us,” Vanessa corrects her, squeezing her waist. She wants to say it, she wants to just say I love you like it’s the most simple thing in the world.

Not yet.

When they all dance together for the last time and the audience claps and cheers, Vanessa’s heart feels full and lit up. She’s happy, and she’s no longer carrying the burden of what-happened-last-year around with her. She feels as if she’s walking on air as she makes her way up to the Divinatorium with Brooke’s arm around her shoulders, ready to watch her friends all dance their hearts out for a chance at the glitterball.

The finalists had to prepare three dances: their favourite of the ones they’d performed all season, the judges’ pick, and a showdance. The couples’ pick is up first, and Vanessa watches with interest at each of their choices. She smirks up at Brooke as Monet and Monique perform their Waltz to I Have Nothing again, explaining to her that their first kiss had been when they’d rehearsed for it. It’s still beautiful and mesmerising though, just as it had been the first time around, and when they get a perfect score of 40 Vanessa swears she’s the loudest member of the audience there is.

Akeria and Asia are next, and they’ve picked their Argentine Tango from Musicals week. Their reasoning is clever, Vanessa thinks; it was a semi-recent performance so it’s still fresh in their minds, and it was the one they performed in the dance-off so they have the opportunity to redeem themselves for the judges. When they’re scored 38, Vanessa’s heart bursts with pride.

The last couple to perform their first dance are Gigi and Crystal, who’ve chosen their movie week dance to Licence to Kill. Vanessa smiles as she watches the pair of them, remembering how Crystal had told her how gorgeous she’d thought Gigi looked in her Rhumba dress. Watching the pair of them dance now it’s filled with so much more passion and heat, and Vanessa will eat her own hands if they don’t score 40. They end up receiving 39 thanks to Bianca and her stubborn scoring, but Vanessa’s proud of them anyway.

“What would we have chosen if we’d made it this far?” Brooke asks Vanessa, as there’s a break to allow some guest performer to showcase their new single. Vanessa doesn’t even have to think twice.

“Argentine for sure. Wait no- maybe the Salsa.”

“You just want an excuse to do sexy dances with me again, then?” Brooke pokes her tongue out, murmuring quietly. Vanessa gives her girlfriend’s butt a squeeze in response and has to clap a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing as Brooke lets out a squeak right in the middle of the performance.

“I’d do our Commercial. I never got to do it with you the first time around,” Brooke says, after she’s calmed down. Vanessa raises her eyebrows and nods in approval, liking the idea. Maybe they could do one of each on tour.

The evening soon progresses to the judges’ choice dances. For Crystal and Gigi, they’ve chosen their week one Samba- a choice that, Vanessa is sure, the girls will be cursing them for as it’ll have required a lot of re-learning. However they still perform it well, and they earn a 38. Monique and Monet perform their Jive, and as Vanessa watches it she becomes all excited for her friend, because it’s shaping up to be one of the most iconic dances in the show’s history. They receive 39, another amazing score. Akeria and Asia perform last- their Commercial, which Vanessa is pleased about. Commercial is easy and almost guarantees a good score. Sure enough, the judges give them 40, and Vanessa practically leaps on her friend when she’s finished with her interview.

After a pro dance, the final dances of the evening- the last attempt to win some votes- are the showdances, designed and choreographed to be a showcase of all the celebrities have learned over the course of the competition. Vanessa’s excited- she hasn’t seen any of the girls’ rehearsals and she’s deliberately not looked at the songs they’ve chosen, and so she’s going into the dances blind.

She clasps Brooke’s hand excitedly as she watches Akeria and Asia go first, the fringing to their dresses Vanessa had seen them be fitted for earlier making her realise it’ll have elements of a Charleston. The opening chords of I Got Rhythm blast out into the studio, and the girls immediately throw themselves into their dance. Vanessa watches it all with delight, so relieved and happy at how well the two girls are doing. When it gets another score of 39, Vanessa screeches so loudly that Aja gives her a glare, deafened from her position on the other side of her.

Gigi and Crystal are next, and their matching pink dresses are perfect for their dance to Sparkling Diamonds. They hit every beat effortlessly, and it’s clear that they’ve both put everything into rehearsals as the dance is executed perfectly. They are scored 39 too, and Vanessa bounces on her toes impatiently, a little irked. The judges are handing out the perfect scores sparingly tonight, and Vanessa badly wants Monet and Monique to get another.

When the last couple take to the dancefloor underneath a giant halo of fairy lights, Vanessa gasps. Monet’s hair is loose and curled down her back and Monique’s is matching, a little sparkling silver butterfly clip pinning some of it back from her face. They’re in long white dresses of taffeta and lace, dotted with sparkling silver diamantes and sequins, and they’re barefoot, indicating a contemporary theme. Vanessa’s heartened by how stunning they look.

And, as the piano begins playing, Vanessa hears Brooke let out a little gasp beside her.

“Oh my God, this is going to be beautiful,” she whispers, and Vanessa nods excitedly in agreement.

As the singer begins, Monique and Monet start to move; slowly, gracefully, gently, like two little figures in a music box.

“I close my eyes and I can see, the world that’s waiting up for me…that I call my own…”

Vanessa is close to letting out a gasp herself as the two girls move across the ballroom floor with skill and agility, tumbling and twirling through the air. It’s not just how perfectly they’re executing the dance though. It’s the way Monique’s looking at Monet with adoration, it’s the way Monet smiles back at her, just happy to be dancing with the girl she cares about. It’s the way the dance is illustrative of what’s blooming between them- fragile, delicate and beautiful- and Vanessa wonders if Monique intentionally choreographed it that way.

“Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colours fill my head, a million dreams are keeping me awake…”

As the song reaches its climax and the pair of them run over to a huge circular platform, Vanessa lets go of Brooke’s hand and cups her face with both of her own, awed and stunned. Because carpeting the platform are shimmering circles of white and silver confetti, and as Monet and Monique conclude their dance, kick up and scatter it, it surrounds them like stars. Vanessa doesn’t know if it’s the music, or the choreography, or simply the connection between the two girls, but she finds her eyes beginning to fill with tears, so much so that Brooke notices and pulls her in close for a hug. They watch the dance finish with their arms around each other, and that’s how the girls end too; Monet’s arms anchoring Monique tightly and Monique’s wrapped around Monet’s waist.

The judges are crying, and, to Vanessa’s unbridled delight, the girls are given full marks for their showdance.

As Vanessa gives her friend a quick hug before they have to go back on stage for the winner to be announced, she whispers to Monique.

“That dance just won you the competition, baby. Well done.”

Monique pulls away and makes a face. “C’mon, Vanj, we don’t know that for sure.”

But Vanessa does. So after the VT is shown of the recap of the full season and Michelle announces that the votes are closed, Vanessa holds her breath. From her position at the bannister she can see Crystal and Gigi, Monet and Monique, and Akeria and Asia, all of them standing within about two metres of the glitterball trophy and within touching distance of being announced the winners. Vanessa would love it to be any of the girls, but she’s sure of who is going to take the trophy. The lights go down, the audience holds their breath, and Brooke clings tightly to Vanessa from behind.

“Crystal and Gigi…” Michelle begins, her voice full of suspense and anticipation. “…Akeria and Asia…Monet and Monique. The votes have been counted and independently verified, and I can now reveal that the Strictly Come Dancing champions of 2020 are…”

Drum beat. Drum beat. Drum beat. Vanessa is holding her breath so much she feels as though she could be sick. She can feel Brooke’s heart beat through her chest against her back, and Vanessa feels as if her whole body is shaking as she looks down at the girls. Crystal has her arm around Gigi as the other girl looks to the ceiling, taking deep breaths. Akeria’s holding Asia’s hand, both of them looking to the floor nervously. And Monique is tucked in to Monet’s side, their arms wrapped around each other and both of their eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Drum beat. Drum beat. Drum beat.

“MONET AND MONIQUE!”

Vanessa immediately flinches against Brooke, almost knocking her out as she launches herself roughly ten feet in the air and screams so loud she feels as if her vocal cords will snap. When she begins crying it’s as if a massive bank has burst, the relief and the pride and the love she feels for her friend so overwhelming and euphoric.

Monique is doubled over in shock, sobbing as she launches herself away from Monet, and Monet, for her part, is simply screaming “WHAT?” over and over again. The two other pairs are laughing and beaming as they cheer for the winners and Akeria is jumping up and down, clapping so hard Vanessa’s worried about the skin on her palms.

Michelle ushers the winning girls over, and Vanessa melts against Brooke with bliss as her girlfriend presses a kiss to her temple. The win is as much for the three friends as well as Monique and Monet themselves, and Vanessa wants nothing more than to throw herself off the balcony and run to Monique and Akeria, to crush them both in a hug and never let go. But Monet is being interviewed, her arm tight around Monique’s waist as she’s asked how it feels to win.

“I still don’t believe it!!” she cries, her face a picture of disbelief as she looks at Monique with incredulity. “It feels absolutely crazy, crazy and surreal, I mean the fact that we won in amongst all this talent…I never expected it, not one bit. But you know…I should’ve expected it, I should, because I have the best teacher, the absolute best teacher and friend and straight-up best person I could’ve asked for to share this experience with, and she deserves this win so much, I just…I mean, you know how I feel about you, babe, so I’m just gonna shut up.”

The audience cheers as Monet pulls Monique in for a hug, and Vanessa can see Monique’s frame shaking as she sobs against Monet’s chest. Vanessa knows how unlucky Monique’s been with her previous partners, she knows how much she’s wanted this for so long. Michelle is smiling as she gestures to Monique.

“Monique, what would you like to say to Monet, to the girl that got you the glitterball?”

Monique pulls out of the hug, takes a few deep breaths to compose herself and breaks out into a coy smile as she looks at Monet, a little twinkle in both their eyes.

“What would I like to say to Monet…many, many things, so many things…I mean, first up, thank you, Lord, thank you for bein’ the best student, for giving your everything every single damn week, for…” Monique gestures to the trophy. “…for this…but also for bein’ the best person to share this whole crazy journey with, and it has been crazy, it’s been crazier than I ever imagined, but I’m so grateful for it all.”

Vanessa can feel the tears stream down her face as she watches Michelle rest a hand on the glitterball trophy. “Well, Monique and Monet, it gives me great pleasure to present you with this trophy, and to officially announce you…Strictly Come Dancing champions!”

The audience cheers in anticipation of the two girls lifting the trophy, but there’s a little pause as Vanessa watches Monet turn to Monique, whisper something into her ear with a little questioning look to her gaze. Monique looks to the floor bashfully, then bites back a smile as she gives a little nod. It’s when that happens that Monet turns to Michelle again, her hand on the trophy.

“Actually, Michelle, can I say somethin’ else before we lift this up?” Monet asks, and Michelle smiles indulgently.

“Make it quick, girl, we’ve got two minutes of screen time left.”

“Okay. I also just quickly wanted to say thank you so much to everyone involved who commissioned this series…it has been an absolute triumph, to see and to work alongside twenty three other women who’ve all proved their talents and who’ve all proved that same-sex pairings can work, and that the world doesn’t implode if you let two girls dance with each other…and I hope future series are going to reflect this too. And finally…” Monet smirks, curling her fingers around the trophy as Monique’s hand rests on top of hers and joins it. “…it wouldn’t be my career without me doing or saying something controversial, so why change the habit of a lifetime? THIS ONE’S FOR THE LESBIANS!”

With that, Monet and Monique lift the trophy in the air, the pyrotechnics go off in the background, and the two girls crash their lips together in a kiss that’s instantly broadcast to roughly nine million people. The audience is almost cheering the roof off the studio, Brooke is punching the air, and Vanessa screeches so loud and for so long that she’s momentarily worried for her lungs. Michelle smiles wryly as she concludes the show and the competition for another year, and the girls in the Divinatorium are given the green light to flood the ballroom floor, descending on the winners and the runners-up and showering them in hugs, kisses, and congratulations. And, just as she’d wanted, Vanessa sweeps Akeria and Monique into a tight hug, the three of them teary and euphoric, happy they’d done what they set out to do from the start.

Vanessa supposes she doesn’t need any alcohol at the afterparty given how completely drunk off Monique’s success she feels already, but she ends up being three glasses of celebratory champagne in anyway. It would be rude not to, and she’s never one to turn down free alcohol, but judging by the way the other girls are swaying around the hotel function room, she’s not holding up too badly in comparison. Blair has already been dispatched back to her flat in an Uber, Vixen’s coat thrown over her head to prevent any of the paparazzi getting any less than desirable photos. The Strictly afterparties are always riotous, and adding Willam into the mix doesn’t help matters either. So when Brooke taks Vanessa’s hand and tugs her in the direction of the fire exit to grab some fresh air, Vanessa is happy to follow and get a small break, some peace and quiet.

It’s nearing half past midnight and the street outside is becoming coated in a thin sheen of frost, one that makes the pavement sparkle under the yellow halo glow of the streetlamps. The paps have all scuttled back into the sewers from whence they came, already satisfied with the shots they got of Gigi and Crystal leaving hand-in-hand which are sure to get tongues wagging tomorrow. All is still, calm and quiet to the extent where Vanessa feels as if she’s experiencing some form of ambiguous space and time. If it’s cold outside, she doesn’t feel it.

“So? How’re you likin’ your first Strictly aftershow party?” Vanessa asks Brooke, punctuating her question with an ever-so-slightly tipsy wink. Brooke giggles as she leans against the brick wall, hissing a little at the cold.

“I don’t think I’m going to survive til the end,” she laughs. “Although Jackie keeps feeding me pints of water against my will, so it doesn’t even feel like I’ve had any alcohol despite the fact I’m making it my mission to drink the BBC out of house and home.”

“You’re too sensible,” Vanessa pouts, circling her arms around Brooke’s waist and squashing her cheek against her chest. After a moment to think, she chuckles. “Wonder how many Ofcom complaints Monet’s gonna get for that kiss.”

“Thousands. And good for her. Now everyone’s going to be talking about their win for years to come. That was a smart move,” Brooke nods appreciatively. “Guess those two will be girlfriends within the next twenty-four hours then.”

“Oh, for sure. It’s so clear that Monet’s head over heels in love with her,” Vanessa smiles, then her face drops as her heart siezes up.

It could be the night, it could be the champagne, it could be the way everything around them is sparkling, but Vanessa pulls her head up from Brooke’s chest, smiles as she looks her in the eye. There’s just one thing left to make the night as perfect as it could possibly be.

“What?” Brooke giggles a little, her gaze soft as she tucks a lock of hair behind Vanessa’s ear. “Why are you just staring at me? I know I’m pretty, but it’s rude to stare. Unless you want to take me back to yours. Then you can stare at me all you want. Preferably without any clothes on.”

“Brooke Lynn, shut up,” Vanessa laughs gently. Her heart is beating so fast in her throat that she feels as if it might crawl up and choke her, and every second she gets closer to admitting things she feels as if she’s about to pass out. But she takes a deep breath, squeezes Brooke tighter because if she does then Vanessa knows she won’t run away.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Brooke’s jaw goes a little slack, in disbelief for a second before a smile slowly spreads onto her face. Vanessa can’t tell what that means, so she continues to babble on. “I promise it’s not because I’ve had a drink. I mean it. I really love you, and I know that’s a lot and you don’t have to say it back.”

“Vanessa,” Brooke brings a hand up to cup her jaw, which she immediately nuzzles into. “Me too.”

The validation makes Vanessa’s smile hurt her face. Brooke loves her. Brooke is in love with her. It’s an unspoken promise that they’re about to embark on a crazy but amazing journey together, one that Vanessa never wants to end, and she feels her heart ever-so-slightly break with how much and how intensely she loves her girlfriend.

“I love you,” Brooke says, through a nervous, excited giggle.

“I love you too,” Vanessa smiles back at her.

She tilts her head down to kiss her, their lips meeting urgently but their kiss slow, as if to match the kind of purgatory they’ve found themselves existing in. But it’s not, because kissing Brooke is like a heaven that Vanessa’s only ever dreamt of, and it’s real. She leans against her, both their bodies steadied by Brooke’s back against the wall, and when she pulls away she keeps their foreheads pressed together as if she’s not quite ready for their perfect moment to end.

It’s only in that second when Vanessa blinks that a bright flash clouds her vision and the sound of a shutter echoes from across the street. Her head snaps to the other side of the road and she’s met with the figure of a tall man, a brown bag slung over his shoulder which Vanessa instantly recognises as one which holds varying pieces of photographer’s equipment. He struggles under the weight of his long-lens camera before scurrying away out of sight.

When Vanessa turns back to look at Brooke, the pair of them splutter out a resigned laugh at the same time.

“Well. Guess that solves the problem of how we reveal our relationship to the world,” Brooke smirks. Her expression quickly changes into one of concern, and she takes one of Vanessa’s hands in hers. “Hey. You okay?”

Even a thousand camera flashes couldn’t stop how happy Vanessa feels. “I’m amazing.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow at her, as if to check. “Sure? Not bothered by the incriminating photos of us smooching in the street?”

Vanessa laughs, locking her fingers around Brooke’s knuckles. “We can deal with that tomorrow.”

Brooke’s expression relaxes and as it does, Vanessa leans against her and raises a suggestive eyebrow.

“Although maybe the poor guy needs a better shot. Maybe…” she smirks cheekily, tilting her face close to her girlfriend’s. “…we should keep kissing some more.”

And as Vanessa meets Brooke’s lips once again, she finds herself not caring about cameras, paparazzi, the newspapers or the media or the opinions of anyone else.

All she cares about is Brooke Lynn and the future they’ve got together, and all of that is worth a million glitterball trophies to her.

[kanene-yaaay-o-retorno]

You’re a WHAT

Kanene’s Notes:

I’m weak for carzy scenarios  and glitter, so BOOOM!! Why don’t get these two things together??? :D)/ This fic marks the end of my break, I will be (trying to) going back to my old projects and probably won’t be writing for some weeks kjnhgfvghjkjhg. Wish me luck! <33

This wasn’t suppose to take so much to be written but I lost my PC and life got in the way :v   Buuuut! I manage to finish it and I already count this as a victory! xP

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Remy and Roman. They’re friendos yay :3. Oh, and this is pretty crazy. Context: The morning after Black Friday when you’re grumpy and wanting to kick the society in the face. A LOT of swearing, Patton does not approve.  

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Something around 2.900 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Try and have fun with new hobbies, be safe, talk with the one that you love, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

                             [~*~]

Roman thought himself as a really lucky human being. Unbelievable lucky.

 It wasn't due to the apartment where he currently lived - Too much dull for his personal taste and space, getting even smaller from the day he admitted a messy, sassy and with sleep problems roommate, since Roman just started his musical career and couldn't afford an own house yet. - or the fact that was finally able to pursue his dream after years and years of just picturing, painting this moment on his future, only to find out his fantastic breathtaking and incredible goals weren’t nearly close of the cold reality, at least for now (Who would know that, after umpteenth days of hard studying and training he would need years and years of experience in order to even START wondering in get out of his partial-time job on that Electronic Store) or any other reason someone would be able to consider himself a receptacle of pure, brute luck, enlightened by the spotlights of the good, pleasant destiny...

 ... Or at least the most pleasant it could be in the horrible and exhaustive middle of the night after a whole day filled with his attempts to survive and treat respectfully the unmerciful, dirty jungle that humanity was at Black Friday. Something around fifteen  hours working with massive hordes of unscrupulous zombies starved for a sale and able to even kill and die (more likely the first option) to get what they want and with souls (if they still got one) free of any slight sight of education, patience and morals to be inserted in a society which, as it seemed, was equally rotten as them. View point only proved as Roman was obligated to be working after his shift to "clean all the mess" - more like hide the bodies of exhausted warriors after such bloody battle. – the store because those sons of a...

 "... Bitch, YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!!!" The poor, frustrated employed shouted to nowhere specific, his face turning towards the sky, seeking in some way to show his all his hate to the cinematography - because this was too much coincidence to NOT be part of a movie or some random fanfic on the black hole that was internet - rain falling at full force leading the weather to became even more freezing as soaked them both with its cool, thick drops.

Anyway, what he was daydreaming about?

"Roman." Oh, yeah, the reason why he viewed himself as a truly lucky person. "My gurl, if you try to impersonate a fucking, dramatic, bitch crow in my ear even again, I swear in the name of my life juice bean that I'm going to KILL you with my bare hands and these sunglasses."

 At least his best friend since, honestly, diapers, who coincidentally was his roommate and even more coincidentally, his coworker was just screwed as Roman himself. Which automatically made the duo less screwed, however equally pissed off, something that neither of them discovered if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

 "Fuck you, Remy" Roman whispered between an tired yawn, too much tired to even think about some nickname or to put real heat in his words as he got instinctively closer to the other, the one called taking off his jacket and lazily throwing it over their heads, doing his best to cover they both with the small available black leathered fabric, the act intertwined with grumpy grumbling and motions which would probably slap Roman's face if he wasn't careful. "I'm the one who buys your coffee."

 "Having my incredible, unique personality in your life should be motivation enough for you to buy me the entire Starbucks Company, be glad I'm weak to your cute face and am going easy on ya."

 " 'Cute'? Excuse me, I'm the most handsome, hottest and fabulous man you will ever met in your lowly life, mortal."

 Remy snorted at this "Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe, but if it's going to be like that your ego soon will have to pay his part at the rent."

 "Well, this 'ego' here was the only thing between your highness and jail after stopping you from committing all those murders today."

 "Bold of you to assume I wouldn't use my contacts to hide the evidences." Their tune were already completely sleepy, bodies instinctively leaning onto each other as the words stumbled, mixed and almost lost themselves in the soundly wind as slipped from their lips. Roman just laughed.

 "Well, if by ‘contacts’ mean 'Virgil' good luck getting him out of his bed on his free day. You would became the fucking new King Arthur." Roman rubbed his eyes, trying to physically force his eyelashes to not close, a new yawn finding its way to his mouth. He didn't even know about what they were talking anymore.

 "I roll the dice to cast Badass Nerd Bitch."

 “Logan??”

 “He likes to study nature stuff, especially at night, I’m sure he already knows some good spots to hide bodies. Glasses.”

 “Glasses?”

 “Glasses.”

 “OMG, the anime character with glasses.” Roman stopped, his mouth wide open as if all the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him.

 “Exactly.” Remy extended each syllable, grinning smugly.

 “I’ve never-“

“THIS IS A ROBERY!!”

 The sentence, which appeared to came out from nowhere, cut the air in a harsh, sharp tune, breaking the barriers and tying them up in the same place in a frozen position and wide eyes staring astonished the hooded form and their unreadable features under the bad illumination of the light poles helped by the increased storm. The wind trespassed them, stirring their clothes and making the muscles shake both of the alone employees in the middle of a dark, empty street at the dawn, even if the dangerously shiny knife directed towards their direction still in a hatred silence. 

 “My.” Roman knew he probably should be afraid, the freezing feeling running across his veins and frightening his brain and actions as infected his words in an unspeakable terror impossible to ignore nor escape. “fucking.” However, the only thing that slipped through his next was the purest, deepest, truest... “ASS.” Indignation.

 Roman thought about a lot of things. He thought about running away, grabbing Remy’s arm and sprinting across the street, about scream in the top of his lungs the waterfall of swearing already racing half way to his throat and even about kicking the knife out of the other’s hands and then kicking him - with a couple of cool moves he saw in some actions films - together with their frecking audacity to try to rob him of all the people in the world. Roman, who asked himself if he would have enough money to eat in the next week with a concerning frequency, who wondered if this is the life he will have until the end of his existence, if he will ever be able to accomplish his dreams.

 His gaze changed to Remy, who was paralyzed, trembling between the poor light of the street and the massive rain. Roman swallowed. Everything was in his hands.

 For a piece of Roman felt the strange urge to spill to the figure before him the story of his life, all his tries, all his battles, his everyday fights to make his dreams real. Blow by blow. Day by day. A life destined to go after everything he wished to himself, everything he wanted to life, to experience, to savor, to do everything in his hands to ignore and one day maybe, hopefully forget all the ghosts - these ones always accompanied by those emotionless, sharp whispers - asking, doubting nonstop if he ever would be able to do all of this, if he was doing the rights thing, if it was really worth all of it.

 However, before the first word even slipped of Roman’s tongue or his mind came fully back to Earth, Remy was already positioning himself strategically between the robber and his friend, the currently only one with the leather jacket falling on his shoulders. However, Remy didn’t seem nearly soaked as he should be, and for a heartbeat, the same one which Remy moved his hands to his jeans’ pocket, his fingers touching and firmly holding something there, Roman could swear that the unexpectedly shiver running across his spine wasn’t due the cold wind.

 Nor the sentence hurled in the clouds.

 “You know what?? Fuck it.”

 And then he unsheathed his magic wand.

 Roman loved with the entirety of his heart all kind of magic, he could easily spend an entire afternoon (which he already had, by the way) listing his favorites movies, musicals and stories with that theme. That also could be easily said by the thousands and thousands of worlds, universes and lifes he invented – in and out of his head - about the subject trough his childhood and handful of teenage years, random ideas and inspirations appearing and dancing in his mind until nowadays. If that only wasn’t enough to convince someone then the umpteenth memories of mornings and afternoons bathed in the smell of books, rocked by the calm silene of the public library as he turned one more page, his back lightly aching by the bad position assumed behind the shelters, in a place he strategically found and claimed as his own Bridge to Terabithia, enjoying every moment as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps you wouldn’t even need to swim in such deep, ancient waters to find out his love, since at least fifty percent of his day was dedicated to shout, hummer or murmur Disney songs.

 However, as rays of pure energy  - shiny and kind of glittery one - involved and swirled from Remy’s, who now was floating a few centimeters above the ground, wand in stripes that got lighter and lighter, begging to spin faster around the aforementioned, creating a spere of a power stunning and big enough to stop the rain in the corner.

 The silence resulting from the lack of the storm didn’t had the opportunity to fill the moment, being obligated to give its space to a soft, intense melody whispered in their ears. The notes standing some more moments in the air, the beating following the changes in the shadowed figure inside the spere. Hesitations taking over the loud, quick heartbeats when the song finally stopped.

 The power’s spere finally exploded, the impact leading to an unbelief and intensive force push both human meters away.

 “Get. Out.”  Remy’s tune still the same, his form – Now adorned by a gleaming crop top, his fluttering skirt over shorts floating in synchrony with the veils which surrounded his clothes and wrapping his arms, the ending spreading in the air as a bunch of angry powered and fancy snakes. - even with the new vestments full of glitter (this probably would be a hell to get off, later) still the same, his gaze, powerful – a new meaning pouring from this word – strong, still the same. But yet…

 Yet his wide eyed, heart hammering in his chest friend since he could remember found himself struggling to connect the same Remy who he had known – if he could still say that? -  all his life with the same being who gleamed dangerously before him.

 The magic wand danced in a quick flick and a trash can came of what seemed nowhere to hit the wobbled and absolutely terrified robber, who fell with a soft thumph in the ground, unconscious.

 “-man, Roman!!! Don’t just stay standing there like a tree, help me here, gurl!” Suddenly the called snapped from his own sea of thoughts, submerging and astonished blinking in Remy’s direction. The rain started to fell on them again, and when their eyes met, when Roman saw the same guy who spent afternoons climbing trees and pretending they were knights and dragons attacking or saving the world, when he recalled the silent sleepovers where they just sat near of each other enjoying the mutual company, the grumpy mornings in their apartment, the comfort hugs, the looks full of words, the smiles filled with meaning, the friendship stuffed with so many, many memories... 

 Nostalgia. The feeling that everything was changed albeit something… something important always stayed. Roman felt, truly felt it and fixed his glare into that brilliant – quite literally - glare adorned with a ‘I’m about to punch your cocky face if you keep fucking narrating every freaking second of your life, ya bitch’ he realized... 

 It was Remy.

 He took a deep breath, moving closer and gradually relaxing as the aforementioned focused in trying to lift the guy, swearing more frequently than raindrops fell from the sky.

 “Remy?”

 “Yeah?”

 “First crush.”

 The other stopped, frowning confused. Roman didn’t quiver, feeling he deserved some sort of answer. At least about this. “What?”

 “My first crush. Who?”

 “Kovu.” Remy maybe was a bit cold hearted, maybe he wasn’t the best with human interactions or knew exactly what Roman wanted with that… but he knew Roman enough to realize this was important. Essentially when the said seemed to relax, his form untensing itself and being allowed to get closer of the magic being.

 “Okay. Okay, okay…” Roman took a deep breath, grounding himself. Their gaze met, his next words coming a little calmer. “Okay.”

 “Please don’t make me sing that serenate you made for him. I���m gonna fucking quit.”

 “Oh, shut up!! Our first love is something special, mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-The-Beast-And-The-Beauty.”

 Remy decided to ignore the words, slightly lowing his sunglasses with his special Judgmental ‘Bold of you to assume I have enough shame to be mocked’ Look. Roman just flipped in his direction, taking advantage that the other’s hands were occupied.

 It was still Remy, with a whole more of style and glitter – Why are there so much glitter here?? - but it was just Remy. Like just any other day.

 Before he even realized, Roman was already at his friend’s - and as it seems a magical being - side, helping him to carry the robber’s body to somewhere dry so he wouldn’t die of hypothermia.

 “Why don’t you- Ouch!! My feet, dammit!” His breaths came out as puffs, the effort leading to his already exhausted muscles only protest even more and very much probably curse him later with sore movements for the audacity to transport anything heavier than a pen. “Why don’t you use your... Wizard magic or something to carry him??”

 “Oh. My. Gosh. Roman, you are sooo intelligent, why aren’t you in Harvard? Ow! Ow! Ow!!” Remy’s sarcasm was cut when the other kicked, or did his best to with their actual position, him in protest.  “Homophobic.” He exhaled a mix of irritation and a snort, receiving a playful punch in his arm by their inside joke.  “I’m your Fairy Godmother, brainless. Unless it was you laid in this stupid, cold ground I can’t use my magic anymore... Except if this is someone of your family but I doubt-”

 “Wait, wait, wait, WAIT!!! YOU ARE MY FAIRY GODM-”

 “No, no way, nope, we are NOT having this conversation right now.” Remy, the Fairy Godmother let go of the unconscious body in a way that probably will make the guy wake up sore, perhaps with a concussion even, directing his index finger in Roman’s direction in a deep, determined stare full of darkness and things that Roman could swear would make Remy be expelled from the group of Friendly Fairy GodmotherS  or whatever... thing he was inserted. “Let me tell you what we are doing right now: We are going to home, change our clothes then I’m getting coffee and you will get sleep so I don’t have to face nor care about the freak consequences of my damn actions.”

 ...

 “That...” Roman stop, as if was considering his next words. Remy’s face just scrunched in a bigger, firmer frown. “That would be hella scary if you didn’t look like someone who just stole a store of glitter and got attacked by the gay, glitterly, shiny fairies who protected the place.”

 “Go fuck yourself. I’m locking you outside when we get there.”

 “Noo, please don’t! My evil stepmother didn’t let me go to the prince castle and now I need help! Crying emoji, crying emoji.” Roman mocked, imitating sad sobs and sniffles as quick his pace to follow the other, who flipped him.

 “I’m this far from knock you out with my magical wand and then you will see who is the evil stepmother.” His wand gleamed in warning, the red color getting mixed and trembled by the fast movements of his veils, one of them getting dangerously next to Roman’s face, who cleverly got silent for some heartbeats, the sound of the rain slowly calming their heartbeats and rocking them, the tiredness gaining the space which, piece by piece, was being unhanded by their adrenaline.

 They arrived home, both still quiet, feeling free as a relieved sign left their lips. Remy threw his soaked jacket in some dark corner, the bed being the only thing which was allowed to take over all his thoughts and will. 

 An awed gasp echoed behind him and he immediately regretted his move.

 “YOU HAVE WINGS????”

 Before his eyelashes closed, the shiny of the wand disappearing gradually as an ungodly amount of sleepiness gained complete control over his body, relaxing each one of his fibers and as a warm, magic good feeling fills every single cell in his being, Roman wondered if ‘Fuck it’ was the name of Remy’s spell.

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 27

Would you look at that? Got it posted on time! Thanks for the motivation everyone! especially @cyberstrikebeast​ - you don’t need to hunt me down, we good! :D I’m not sure if I’ll get another chapter out before the new year, I will for sure be writing in it since I’m taking time off work, but we’ll see how it goes!

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“For the sake of sanity, ”Simmo hissed, “would you hurry it up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mike whispered back, “am I taking too long? Would you like to do this instead?”

Simmo sighed and clicked her mandibles faintly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike grumbled under his breath as he turned back to the task at hand.

The task was, to be honest, one that 7-year-old Mike would have absolutely loved. They needed to find where Jeb was being held. To do that, they needed a computer that could grant them access to confidential information. To get to a computer that had the right authorization, they needed to break into an information control room. The ship was currently in what Mike referred to as “night mode,” so the control room would be empty. However, that didn’t mean it was easy to get to. Hence the high security in the corridor.

And what a fun security system it was too! Obviously, it must seem impossibly daunting to most- otherwise, the Burnti would never have installed it, but to Mike, it was straight out of his childhood games where he’d imagine he was a secret agent and had to infiltrate the bad guys’ lair. There were lasers to avoid and everything. He could see them, dimly, but they were definitely there. When they’d arrived, he’d had to stop Simmo from walking right into them. She stayed behind as he carefully wove under, over, and around the beams of light, quietly humming the Mission Impossible theme song, much to Simmo’s annoyance.

Currently, he was standing in front of the gate that blocked the hall. He’d climbed up to where it looked like there was a locking mechanism. No luck there. He was stumped for a moment until he noticed the small colored pins inset along the wall. He picked at them, poked at them, twisted, pulled. It was clear they were mechanized. If he tried hard enough, they probably could be moved by hand.

“Do you know if there’s some sort of pattern or whatever for these pins? Like, do I need to match up the blues, or…” He trailed off. He forgot she wouldn’t be much help with this. Simmo, and apparently all Montauk are colorblind. Seeing in color was something only a handful of species could do, or at least, only a handful of species in the Galactic Confederation. Maybe more could see color in the Burnti Empire. That might explain why there’s some sort of color-coding something on this stupid gate.

It took a bit, but eventually, he was able to figure out how the pins were supposed to move when the locks were engaged or disengaged. Moving the first pin out was hard - they were so small! Thankfully, due to the fact that he hadn’t had access to any clippers or files, his nails had grown long enough to pick out the pins so he could work them along their grooves and out of the way. Once he moved a few, it became easier to move the rest.

He grabbed one of the horizontal bars and pulled. It budged, but just barely. He tried again. It rose maybe two inches. Dang, this was heavier than it looked. It didn’t help either that he didn’t have much room to lift - there were two lasers he had to avoid right behind him. Mike turned around and leaned against the gate, trying to figure out the best move.

“Don’t look at me,” Simmo grumbled. “Even if there weren’t all these light sensors, I wouldn’t be much help lifting that thing. Why do you think I brought you along?”

Mike turned back to the gate. “And here I thought it was for my winning personality,” he sighed. He widened his stance and carefully squatted down to the level of the bar he needed. He’d taken a weight-lifting class once in school. He’d been pretty good at it then, and he did his best to keep good form- not that he had much choice. One wrong move and he’d set off the sensors. He grabbed the bar, locked his elbows and lifted with his legs.

Oh boy. If they got out of this, he was going to hit the gym, get back in shape!

The gate lifted enough that he could shuffle his knee under it and give his arms a break. He lifted again and repeated with his shoulders. He carefully stepped over a beam of light on the other side to try to give himself a better stance as he lowered the gate back down. The angle was a bit awkward and it slipped halfway down and slammed loudly against the floor.

Both Mike and Simmo winced involuntarily. Simmo glanced down the hall they had come before turning back to glare at Mike.

He sighed and pretended to brush it off by continuing the rest of the way over the lasers. He was glad Simmo couldn’t see his hands or legs shake, or hear how fast his heart was beating. 

He was able to maneuver the rest of the way without incident. A little stumbling, and a lot of shaking, sure, but he made it.

He let himself take a bit of a breather at the other end, shaking his legs so they’d stop feeling like jelly. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. “Always wanted to do that. Always thought it’d be more fun. Life and death situations seem to suck the fun out of everything.”

He entered the code on the panel like Simmo showed him. The laser light show sensors turned off. Mike’s mind was starting to wander as he thought of what the differences there must be between his and Simmo’s - and whoever designed these things, eyes. Why could he see the beams that were supposed to be invisible? Was it with the cones or rods in the eyes? Was it because of how the brain processed the light? He didn’t get very far in thinking though. A loud clang nearly made him jump out of his skin. The gate was raising. That was the loudest gate he’d ever heard. Why did everything always so loud when you were trying to be quiet? After getting over his initial scare, he cringed as it continued its way up loudly. He really hoped no one else was nearby. They would get caught all because of a stupid gate that desperately needed some WD40. Or whatever the Burnti used.

Simmo quickly made her way over and entered the command to restart the security protocols. Mike wasn’t keen on the idea of having the dang gate move around again, but Simmo assured him it was necessary to maintain their cover while they were in the control room. Thankfully, the mechanism that moved the gate was a lot quieter going down than it was going up.

The control room itself was not exactly what Mike had been expecting. As soon as they opened the door, he anticipated seeing a few cramped desks or tables covered with computers and monitors, star maps, electrical displays, the works. Instead, it was a rather spacious room with large decorative tapestries with several inlets and nooks along the walls. In the middle of the room was an impressively large, round computer console. A few steps away was a set of shelves storing everything from datapads, books, what looked like scrolls, and cylinder can things of various sizes and colors.

“So,” Mike drew out the word as he walked in and looked around and up. This place had a vaulted ceiling? On a spaceship? Classy. “Is this like some sort of library, or…?”

“A what?” Simmo marched immediately towards the computer console. She opened up the holographic display and began entering information.

“You know, a library,” Mike circled the room, checking out the inlets and tapestries. “A place where people keep lots of books and movies and old magazines or whatever. You can read there, or study, or research things?”

Simmo didn’t answer. She was now moving through the readouts on the display and scrolling through what didn’t seem important. Mike ran a hand over one of the tapestries. It swayed with his touch. Behind it, there was a small nook tucked away. Nice. He grabbed the tapestry again to steady it. It was huge - it hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and it was beautiful. He wasn’t sure the shapes on it meant anything, they were a little abstract and there were symbols he couldn’t read, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He stared at it a while longer, admiring the handiwork and skill that had gone into its creation before walked back to where Simmo was still looking up where Jeb was being held.

“Any luck?”

“He was put in the brig two levels up from us and in the rear of the ship.”

“Okay. Great! That was fast,” Mike nodded and headed toward the door. “Let’s go get him, let’s… Simmo?”

Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Her antenna flicked slightly, but she kept searching the hologram.

“Uh, Simmo, we’re on a bit of a time crunch here, let’s get a move on.”

“And how do you plan on getting out of here without a ship?”

Mike stopped. “I thought we’re taking yours.” He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Simmo just continued swiping and searching the computer. “Do you… not know where yours is?”

“It’s been missing for about a partec now. It was supposed to be moved to bay 9 after it was done with some repairs, but it never showed up. Rozar told me to not worry about it, that the repairs were probably just taking longer than expected. Thing is, he never checked into it further. Every time I try to do so myself, I never have clearance.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. That didn’t sound good. They had to find the Junk Lego, it had to be somewhere.

He stepped over to Simmo to help her look. He couldn’t really read many of the symbols on the display but moving felt like something he could do. He needed something to do, needed some way to help. Before he could get far, however, he heard the loud gate outside the corridor being raised again.

“Simmo, someone’s coming! We know where they’re keeping Jeb, let’s get out of here! We’ll figure out where your ship is later.”

But Simmo didn’t move from her spot. Files and reports continued coming up and she kept sifting through each one at incredible speed. Mike stepped closer to her, sizing up how best to grab her and pull her along in a way that wouldn’t end up with him getting cut up by her sharp hands. Suddenly, the screen froze. Mike glanced at the topmost file on display. He still couldn’t read it, and for several tense moments, Simmo couldn’t stop reading it.

“Simmo,” Mike ground out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and all this standing around business was beginning to feel torturous. They had to hide!

“My ship,” Simmo whispered without taking her eyes off the display. “It’s gone.”

The loud clanging noises of the gate stopped. Shoot. Mike looked back at Simmo. She must have heard it, even with the control room door being closed. She was still fixated on the screen.

“Simmo!” Mike hissed through his teeth. The voices were right outside the door now, muffled and talking quietly, but getting closer.

Mike slapped at the screen’s controls, shutting it down and all but tackled Simmo and dragged her behind the tapestry. Just in time too - the tapestry was still moving and swaying a bit when the door slid open. Thankfully, the new arrivals were too deep in their conversation to notice. Mike didn’t dare look around to see who it was, but he could swear he recognized the voice of one of the speakers.

“This is not what my people were told,” a silvery voice entered the room. “We’ve waited long enough. The Burnti aren’t the only ones with whom we can make deals.”

“We’ll have the truminium soon now that the Galactic Confederation out of our way.”

Mike shrunk back farther. He knew that second voice. Commander Rozar had one of those very distinct voices.

“That’s been partecs now. You’ve sure been taking your time since,” the silvery voice countered. “Having too much time with your galactic streamings about your little prizes, perhaps?”

Mike tentatively inched to the edge to get a look, being careful to not be seen. Sure enough, there was that grand, feathered sloth jerk himself, talking to an alien Mike had never seen before. She looked very catlike. Larger than a booka, but larger and with a much longer torso with thick spotted gray fur and long antenna-like whiskers all over her body. She was standing on her hind legs, or maybe standing was too generous a term. It was more like she was balancing on her back legs. It’s long, thick tail helped to keep her balanced.

Mike ducked back behind the tapestry. ”What ith that?” he lisped to try to avoid being overheard.

Simmo leaned over to peer around the corner. “Priso. They’re not with the Burnti. They’re from some coalition near the Green Mallak nebula.” “Ok. That doesthn’t help. I have no idea what any of that ith.” 

Simmo made some sort of gesture that Mike had to assume was Montauk sign language for ‘shut up.’ 

Rozar and the priso hadn’t yet noticed they weren’t alone. The priso had said something which caused Rozar to flatten the feathers at the back of his head cooly. “If you’re going to be keeping up with your delightful attitude, you can always spend another cycle or two in a cell.”

The priso shot him an icy glare. “Your diplomacy leaves much to be desired.”

“And what, do tell, are you going to do about it? Complain about me to your superiors? I’m sure they’d applaud the lengths I’ve gone to not outright strangle you.” The priso’s fur ruffled. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Rozar said calmly, “a statement. Though I’m sure many of your superiors wouldn’t mind if it were. I’m surprised you don’t hear more of them.”

The priso’s ears went flat against her skull, the same with its whisker-like antenna. She bared her teeth and let out a low growl.

“Oh do calm down, Sitran my dear,” Rozar sighed. “That’s what got you in trouble before.” He turned to the computer console and pulled up the display. Mike tensed. He hoped that whatever Simmo had been looking at before wasn’t still there, or if it was, it wouldn’t tip Rozar off that something was wrong. Thankfully, the display had reset itself when they closed it down in their rush.

“Ah, here we are,” Rozar looks closely at the display before turning toward a set of shelves. Picking up a datapad, he activated the display and handed it to the angry priso. “Perhaps this will help allay some ill will. This datapad should include the pertinent communications we’ve had with Earth. Or at least with the governments that have been expressing an interest.”

Sitran took it and began scrolling through with a paw. Her ears came forward and the offended expression on her face melted away into a mix of curiosity and wonder. “These are just the ones that...” she continued to scroll. “How many governments does Earth have?!”

Rozar stepped back toward the main computer console chuckling lightly. “My understanding is that humans just wandered around their planet. When they got too far from each other, they started doing their own things, made their own cultures, formed new languages, and even their widespread appearances changed in some cases to adapt to new environments. In short, there are enough for everyone to share.”

Mike felt a mix of confusion, alarm, and anger. He wished he could just step out there and wipe that smug look right off Rozar’s face. Like he knew anything important about humans! What was that jerk planning?

Rozar,still very much unaware of Mike and Simmo’s presence, was very much enjoying showing off his human-related knowledge.

“There’s a file with everything you need near the top. Several files actually. I’d recommend reviewing the health and safety files thoroughly. There are things you wouldn’t think would pose a health hazard. You wouldn’t want to get something in your paw broken during a customary human hand greeting.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear, “Please tell me that’s not a real thing.”

Mike turned back to her and thought for a moment. “Uh, handshake? I think he’s talking about handshake-th. That’th tho dumb. They don’t hurt”

Simmo didn’t look comforted in the slightest. 

The priso was still looking through the files, fascinated. Her wide eyes were darting across the screen. “I thought most of this was just rumor. Humans sure don’t mess around, do they?”

“Oh no. They certainly do,” Rozar corrected. “That’s part of the problem with working with them. But I imagine that if the Galactic Confederation has been successful at integrating them, then it’s obviously manageable. The rewards vastly outweigh the risks, as you can see in the next file.”

Simmo leaned into Mike’s ear again. “I want a copy of that datapad.”

Mike pushed her face away from his and peeked back out.

“You’ll want to read through the behavioral files as well,” Rozar had now moved over near Sitran and was pointing out the folder in question. “We’ve tried to log as much information as extensively as we can, but it’s very much an ongoing endeavor. Our own humans have been exceptionally-”

The door slid open again. Mike jumped back a bit out of habit to avoid detection. He didn’t really need to, the new arrivals, a pair of yellow guards immediately rushed in and saluted Rozar.

“Commander,” the shorter of the pair rushed, she sounded like she was out of breath, “We have apprehended a ship, sir.”

“The escaped prisoners?”

“No sir, a Galactic Confederation ship.” That got Rozar’s full attention. 

Rozar ignored a quirked look from Sitran. “Come again? A Galactic Confederation ship?”

“Yes sir, we were in pursuit of the escaped prisoners and they came out of nowhere sir. By the time we had them, the prisoners had gone to hyperspeed.” “A diversion perhaps?” Sitran mused.

“Quite possible. Two of the three missing prisoners were Confederation officers, I believe.” Rozar’s tail swayed dramatically from side to side, red and purple feathers brushed lightly on the floor. “They helped them get away and let themselves be captured. We’ll know for sure after we’ve interrogated them. And then we’ll make an example of them for the rest of the meddlesome Confederation fools.”

The guards suddenly looked rather sheepish. “Ah, yes, about that,” the second, taller guard started. Rozar snapped his head towards him, which only disconcerted the guard more. “Their ship is still in docking bay 4, but they themselves… aren’t.”

Rozar stared at the pair of them silently for what seemed like forever. Mike leaned out a bit more from behind the tapestry.

“They aren’t… what?” Rozar nearly spat.

The guards shifted uncomfortably. “They… aren’t on their ship anymore. Ah, a few moments after the air seal locks disengaged, three of them rushed the doors and were able to break through the ranks. They, ah, well they are now loose aboard the Arum Bloom, sir.”

Silence.

“They... broke the ranks?”

“Ah, yes… sir. The guards were not prepared for them to leave their ship like that, or leave willingly at all. Several have had to be taken to the infirmary. Two granims have serious concussions and are in critical condi-.”

“How many?”

“Uh, sir?”

“How many Galactic Confederation soldiers are now running amok on my ship?”

The first guard paused nervously. The second piped up, “From the reports we’ve received, there are three, sir.”

Rozar stepped away from the computer console and began pacing slowly, sharp claws clacking against his jaw. Mike slipped a bit back behind his hiding spot as Rozar walked by. The Burnti Fleet Commander had his eyes closed, sure, but he still felt dangerous. Mike could feel the anger and tension building up. He was pretty sure everyone in the room could. Even Simmo, who had barely moved from her hiding spot at all, scooted almost imperceptibly closer to Mike’s side.

“Three.” Rozar sighed deeply. “Three soldiers were able to ‘break your ranks,’ injure several guards, and avoid capture?” Rozar stopped in front of the guards, his feathers puffed out a bit as he arched his neck to look down at the guards. “Please illuminate to me how, by all that is bright and shining, three soldiers were able to, thus far, elude you all.”

Mike did not envy the guards’ position. He knew it was silly, they were Burnti- his captors- but part of him even felt a little bad for them.

One of them, the second one, managed to gather a bit more courage and straighten up. “Two of them were human sir.” 

Mike gasped. Simmo glowered at him.

No one must have heard, thankfully, because the guard continued, “We had scanned their ship as we brought them aboard, but something was interfering with the scan. Before we could completely set up for boarding protocols, two humans and a booka attacked and got away.”

“Well, Commander,” Sitran drawled out dramatically, “It seems you certainly are busy. I can make sure my superiors take this,” he closed the display of the datapad, “as a gift of good faith for the truminium trade, shall I?”

Rozar made a sound that was a mix between a grunt and a growl.

Sitran walked toward the door. The two guards hesitated, unsure if they should try to stop her or not.

“I’ll just see myself out then,” Sitran stepped around them and toward the door, calling back smugly, “Don’t worry, I remember where my ship is, unless of course it’s been moved or stolen in all the commotion lately.”

Mike ducked back to hiding as Rozar stormed by. He was definitely growling now. After a moment, he heard the blips and hums of the computer console as he pulled up the report readouts the guards had brought him. More reports were sent in as the search for the intruders went on.

Simmo quietly thunked her head against the wall. “They are never going to leave. We need to get out of here,” she hissed under her breath.

“There are humans,” Mike whispered back. “They’ve probably come to rescue us!”

“Two humans. Two humans came. Oh, and a booka. Great.” Simmo started to roll her eyes but stopped herself once she realized what she was doing. “Against everyone else aboard the Arum Bloom? They’re idiots for coming at all.”

Mike sighed and leaned to spy on what the other occupants in the room were doing, but before he could, Simmo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Now look here you little monster,” her face was right in Mike’s again, “don’t you go getting any stupid ideas. We’re getting out of here as soon as we can. I agreed to take you, Wenona, and for some reason, Jebannuck, but I draw the line there. We are not risking our plans to save more humans on a doomed mission.”

Mike smiled. “Aw, Simmo, you said our plan. Like we’re a team,” he teased. Simmo hissed quietly and pushed him back. It’d been a soft push, sure, but as Mike stepped back from it, he tripped over his other foot and stumbled back, landing on his butt past the tapestry.

He froze. He felt like he could feel every. Single. Heartbeat.

Frewan.

He turned his head to the middle of the room. Maybe Rozar hadn’t seen. Maybe he’d had his back turned and didn’t notice.

Yeah, no such luck.

Rozar stared back at him, surprise coloring his wide golden eyes.

After a few tense heartbeats, the two guards finally snapped out of their shock and pulled their blasters, leveling them right at Mike. 

Before any of them could react further, the control room door opened again. A huge hairy mass raced towards Mike. Booming barks felt like they were shaking the entire room.

“No one shoot!” a familiar voice commanded. “Put your weapons down!”

Mike had his hands full of massive, hairy, very excited dog. By the time he was able to sit back up and wipe the slobber off his face, Wenona had disarmed the guards and was handing their weapons to Jebannuck. She kept her blaster pointed directly at Rozar, but carefully, her eyes wandered to where Mike was trying to settle down Carson.

“Oh, Mike,” her voice bounced cheerily, “I’m glad you’re still alive. Because I’m about ready to kill you.” She dropped the smile. “Where have you been?!”

“Uh,” Mike stood back up, “with Simmo.” He motioned for her to step out from behind the tapestry. She was hesitant, but as soon as Mike had acknowledged her, Carson started sniffing. Then growling. Mike stroked the dog’s head. “It’s ok boy, she’s a friend.” Which earned a simultaneous scoff from Simmo and a quiet “Well…” from Jebannuck.

Simmo cautiously took a step out from behind the tapestry. Carson sniffed eagerly at her while Mike held his collar.

“What is that thing?!”

“That’s Carson,” Mike scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s our unofficial pet until we can get him home to his real owners back on Earth.”

Simmo’s antenna were flat against her head and her mandibles clicked quietly, but she didn’t stop the canine and instead stood stiffly, waiting for it to be over. When Carson was done, he huffed loudly and stood resolutely between Simmo and Mike.

“Simmo,” Rozar’s voice broke the tense silence, “I assume I’m to hold you responsible for at least most of this mess.”

“Quite likely.”

Rozar looked like he was trying to kill Simmo just by glaring at her. He looked like he might say more, but Jebannuck spoke first. “Simmo, are you the one who opened the cells?”

Simmo tilted her head stiffly. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.”

Jebannuck stared at her. “You opened the entire cell block. There were more than just prisoners in there. You almost got me killed.”

“If I’d known it was your cell block, believe me, I would have found another distraction.”

Mike waved them both down. “Okay, fine, it’s fine. I mean, now we don’t need to break Jebannuck out.” Simmo made a long grunting noise and looked away. Mike looked at her, but shook his head and chose to ignore whatever she meant by that. They were together now, and they had to act quickly. “Simmo, you said something earlier about your ship?”

Simmo looked to Rozar who gave the smallest hint of a grin.

“It’s gone.” Simmo clenched her sharp claws. Mike, Jeb, and Wenona glanced at each other. Simmo only had eyes for Rozar Silence. Finally, Wenona, still aiming a blaster at his chest, took a warning step closer.

Rozar sighed. “The parts were useful. Plus,” he sneered, “we didn’t want you getting any bright ideas. Apparently, I was right to be concerned.”

“So we steal another ship. We get out of here,” Wenona said matter-of-factly.

Jebannuck shook his head. “That may be impossible. They’ll have increased guard duty since the last prisoners did that.” “We can take them, we have the blasters.”

“We don’t need to.” Mike jumped in. “There’s a ship, a Galactic Confederation ship.” He nodded at Rozar. “I overheard them earlier.”

“Yeah,” Simmo scoffed, “with its crew now wandering somewhere on the ship.”

Rozar chuckled. Wenona readjusted her aim on him that had been slipping during the conversation. “So what will you do now? Will you steal their ship and save yourselves, or will you get yourselves captured by trying to find them?”

“Shut up, Rozar, no one asked you.” Wenona gave him her iconic glare.

“Shoot him,” Simmo growled. “We don’t need him overhearing our plans so he can stop us once we leave.”

“And give the Burnti a reason to go to war against the Galactic Confederation?” Jebannuck countered. “He’s not just some guard, he’s a fleet commander, and we wouldn’t be doing it in self-defense!”

Wenona sighed and looked back at Jeb. “We can’t just leave him either.”

Rozar used the momentary distraction and dove behind the computer console. Wenona shot a blast which barely missed him as he went, brushing over the feather tips of his tail. Carson barked wildly, pulling Mike who was still holding his collar with him a few steps before Mike could regain footing.

The entire control room erupted with noise and no small amount of panic. The guards, even without weapons, rushed them in order to protect their commander. Wenona swore and tried to move to get another shot at Rozar, but her limp slowed her down. Jeb was able to shoot one of the guards, but the other crashed into Wenona and both of them fell to the floor.

Carson was still barking wildly but was now trying to pull Mike along to defend Wenona. He let go of the dog’s collar and yelled to Jeb to throw him one of the spare blasters. The guard that had attacked Wenona screamed as Carson bit its arm.

A loud tonal beep blared from speakers that must have been installed in the walls or ceiling. Rozar’s voice echoed in the room, outside in the hall, and Mike assumed, everywhere in the ship, “This is Fleet Commander Rozar. Humans have escaped. Armed and dangerous. Kill on sight.”

Mike felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. We need to go. We need to go! WE NEED TO GO! He wasn’t sure if he had yelled any of that as he rushed forward and pulled Carson off the alien guard who quickly scrambled away holding its arm tightly to try to stop the purple blood from where they’d been bitten.

Simmo picked up one of the dropped blasters and tried a few more shots towards the computer console at Rozar as Jeb helped Wenona to her feet. She stumbled and gasped in pain.

“For my ship!” Simmo roared as she blasted away at the console. “For my crew!” She rushed the side to get a better angle. Mike couldn’t see if she got him or not as he struggled to pull Carson towards the door. He wished he had some sort of leash to help guide the dog away from the now-cowering guard and toward the door. 

“Carson, come!” The dog grudgingly let Mike pull him along.

Jebannuck was trying to pick up Wenona who was almost bent over with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mike yelled. “What happened?”

“No time, hold this,” Jeb handed him an extra blaster so he could lift Wenona over his shoulder, using his now free hand to hold her in place as he ran to the door. “Simmo,” he shouted back, “We’re leaving! NOW!”

The montauk was already at his side. She frowned as they headed for the door, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jebannuck didn’t answer immediately. He led the way down the corridor and paused at the next turn. “Did either of you happen to overhear where the Confederation ship is being held?”

Mike thought back for a moment, trying to remember. “Docking bay 4,” He turned to Simmo. “Do you know where that is?”

Simmo paused then nodded and took the lead down the corridor.

Previous Chapter            Next Chapter

[looselucy]

Apologies

June 21st “Right, Niall, get in position. A little to your left, closer to Lin.” I demanded from beside the lake, shivering and dripping from my recent dip. “No, your left! That’s my left.” “Which left?” “Your left! Left!”

“What is going on?” Libby laughed, watching the three lads get in line in the water. Libby had only just got there after having been at work most of the day, and preparing for her arrival, the lads had come up with a rather incredible synchronized swimming routine for her to arrive to. They’d sort of been exhausting her at work recently, with longer shifts and more responsibilities but no extra pay, and Louis was practically making it his life’s aim to cheer her up at any point and in any way that he could. Even with a water-based dance routine. “Just watch, you’re gunna love it.” I giggled to her. “Ready, lads?” Louis asked, and they nodded. “And a one, and a two, and a one two three.” Their arms shot up, all bizarrely in time to say how little practice they’d had over the past hour, and well, their entire lives before that. They started spinning on the spot, Niall clearly already dying to laugh but trying to just be serious for a minute of his life. Lin and Louis actually looked incredibly involved and invested in their routine. Libby was losing her head instantly, and I just stood laughing with her. Slowly, as they continued, my smile began to fade from my face as I stopped concentrating on their dance and lost myself staring at Lin, maybe forcing myself to look at him in a way I hadn’t done before. I hadn’t gone back to him with an answer to the question he’d asked me at the beginning of the week, and I didn’t really want to keep him waiting much longer. He’d asked me on Monday and it was now Sunday afternoon and I knew if I went much longer without acknowledging his proposed date and how much courage it had taken him, he’d retract the whole thing subconsciously and pretend it had never happened to save himself the shame. I wasn’t even sure that I’d made a decision, but then it seemed to me that there were pros and cons and risks either side, so why not just take the plunge? I wanted to let go and not even think about it and just see how it all unfolded of its own accord. Part of the reason I wanted to say yes was almost like a nod of respect to him for asking in the first place. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated the fact that he wasn’t going to let his fear hold him back and ruin something that could be incredible. Fear had ruined and stolen things from my life before and it was only looking back that I could see how foolish that was, the mistakes I and others had made due to fear. I didn’t want to look back on this and feel the same way. I was snapped out of my daze when Libby started clapping the lads along, laughing manically at their stupidity and the fact that Niall was completely out of time and now spinning the total opposite way to the other two. “You’re killing it!” She cheered them on. “I didn’t know there was so much talent in our group of friends, holy shit!” I had started and ended my week by that lake, starting somber and reflective and ending fun and carefree, always surrounded by people I loved, peaceful, happy. Maybe trying something with Lin would be the thing that finally shook things up again. And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

“You wanna stay?” I suggested nervously to Lin as everyone began drying off and packing up their things to head back into Rosebury. “Huh?” He hadn’t heard, too busy attempting to carefully dry his dreads as much as he could with his t-shirt. “Do you wanna stay for a bit? We could chat, or whatever.” “Uh... Yeah. Yeah definitely.” His smile was gradual, sensing my mood and tone. “Did you drive here?” “Yeah, I’ll drive us back. Saves you crawling into the back of Louis’ car too.” “I dunno why Niall always gets shotgun, it’s not fair.” “Niall always gets what he wants.” I smiled. “What is that about him? I feel like he could ask me to do anything and I would!” “He’s got a quality about him. It’s Niall’s world and we’re all just living in it.” “Rosebury might just be a figment of his imagination and we’re all just living in it, and we don’t even know that we don’t actually exist.” “What the fuck, Lin? Why would you say that? That’s gunna freak me out for weeks. That’s gunna keep me up!” “OI!” Louis yelped as they headed towards his car. “You coming, or what?” Lin turned his head so he could answer on our behalf, but before he’d even managed to spit out a sentence, Louis had this shit-eating grin on his face that showed he already knew exactly what was going on. “Um, we’re gunna stick around for a bit. Drinks tonight?” “Yeah, maybe. I’ll text you.” Louis called back, the three of them getting into his car. “Sweet. See ya later.” “Drive safe!” I yelled. Niall and Libby were none the wiser as they waved their goodbyes and got on the road, leaving the two of us alone. It was the first time we’d been alone since he’d asked me out. I was nervous. Never before had I felt like I didn’t know how to talk to Lin. From the second I’d met him, we’d conversed with ease. He was so friendly and bubbly and easy to get along with, it had been impossible to be any other way with him! It was so unnatural to feel as though I didn’t have anything to say to him when actually I probably had more to say than ever before, it was just harder now. It was obvious he felt the same way, so obvious in fact, that he called it out. I liked that about Lin. “This is weird.” “Right? Fuck, I know, I’m sorry.” “It’s my fault, why’re you sorry?” He cried. “I feel like I shouldn’t have ever asked and… put that on you, I’m sorry.” “No, don’t- Okay, sit.” I huffed, taking my place on the ground, Lin quietly sitting beside me. “I don’t want you to feel like that at all, because… I’ve given it careful consideration, and I think… we should do it.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. We should. We should… go on a date, or whatever. Although, I’m not even sure I know how dates work.” I sniggered down to the ground. “No one’s ever taken me out on a date.” “No one? What about Sam?” “Well we were young, weren’t we? We just kinda got to know each other at college, and back then all we did was get drunk and go to house parties. The next thing I knew, he was my boyfriend. We never really… had a dating stage.” With Sam, we’d been too young and too smitten to even think about dating. When things started with us, it was still all about being cool and bumping into each other in the right places, trying to show interest without ever being overly interested. Dates weren’t really a common thing at that age, so he’d never taken me out properly to try and woo me; he hadn’t needed to. And then there was Harry. “You deserve to be taken out on a date.” He was confident yet bashful, sweet. “Okay, well I will give you the honour of doing that then.” I joked. “You will?” He grinned. “I will.” “Fucking hell. M’gunna have to pull out the big guns then. First proper date.” “Yeah, good luck with that. There’s fuck all to do in Rosebury.” “Okay, so maybe we go out of Rosebury then.” He shrugged. “I mean, if I’m gunna do it, I’m gunna do it right.” “I’ll let you think about that then.” I giggled. “I’m already stressing about it. Genuinely.” “I wouldn’t. I think I’m pretty easy to please.” “Good to know.” Struggling to find something to say again, I looked out to the lake and attempted to control my breathing, my stomach not stilling even though we seemed to be fine. The thing that I couldn’t shake was the fact that my insides weren’t churning with nerves because of what he did to me, but because of what the scenario was doing to me. I didn’t want to overthink it and start questioning why we were so awkward, if it meant something, because after being friends for so many years it had to be inevitable, surely. But I craved that immediate spark, that sensation and desire that could occur between two people, like your bodies are begging it to happen. That was lacking and it was something we couldn’t create or force, I could only hope that it would appear in time and blind me when it arrived. “Thanks for… having the guts to ask me.” I spoke after a while. “That must have been difficult.” “I literally felt like my insides were rotting.” He seemed completely serious. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks for saying yes. Eventually.” “We’ll just… see how it goes.” I turned to look at him. “Yep. We’ll see how it goes.” He looked back to me. His gaze had changed. The only reason I had been barely surviving these new dynamics was because at our core, we felt the same. It was Lin and he was familiar even when our circumstances weren’t, and that was why I’d said yes and why I’d had the nerve to give it all a chance. But then he looked at me, and it had changed. He wasn’t just looking; he was gazing and it was different and I felt like I wanted to scream. And then he kissed me. He just threw his head forward and put his lips on mine and he fucking kissed me. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds before I ripped my head backwards, eyes still closed, not breathing at all before I just blurted out the only words I could. “You kissed me.” He didn’t say a thing for far too long. I opened my eyes, seeing that he was just as alarmed by his actions as I was. He looked horrified. “I did. Shit, I don’t know why I did that, m’sorry. Fuck, I dunno why I’m like this. I’m so fucking awkward and useless. I dunno what the fuck’s coming over me. I don’t-” This time it was me, flying my lips towards his. I wanted to kiss him and actually do it for long enough to be able to decipher how I felt about the kiss, but also to stop him ranting on and putting himself down, always thinking he’d done the wrong thing. He widened his mouth, kept the kiss calm yet intense, soothing his fingers down my jaw as his tongue gently met mine. It was slow, strange but good, captivating yet confusing. It was peculiar to kiss like that and still feel completely clueless. He slowed down our kiss, eventually stopping and laying his forehead against mine, the two of us taking a few quiet moments to reflect. “Sor-” “Lin, you’re gunna have to stop apologising for everything.” “Okay.” He chuckled, rubbing his nose against mine. And then the feeling came, crystal clear and undeniable. I was happy. And though it didn’t give me any of the answers I was searching for, it didn’t feel like a complete moment of clarity that defined what I wanted and what we might become, it was good enough for me. I was really happy. “Wanted to do that for ages.” He admitted through a whisper, like he was unsure whether he actually wanted me to know or not. “Did it disappoint?” I asked. “No, not at all! It was just… weird.” “Mm.” He leaned in a placed one last peck against my lips, my smile bursting as soon as he pulled away, the two of us incredibly coy and shy, but it seemed he was happy too. We would be okay. No matter what happened, we would be okay. I knew that then.

June 22nd “Was it nice? Was it big enough?” “It was fine.” My dad sighed on the other end of the line. “But I didn’t get any feeling about it, really. I can’t see myself there.” “Fair enough. It’s only the first place you’ve viewed anyway, I wouldn’t even worry about it.” “No, I won’t start panicking yet.” He'd been for his first viewing of a place he was looking to rent only a week after expressing the fact he wanted to leave Rosebury. He was moving quickly, proving to me just how much he’d been struggling since he moved back. He was eager to move on. Onwards and upwards, hopefully. My pride for him was literally bursting out of me. After so many years, he’d finally reached the stage where he felt he could progress and start this new life without feeling guilty about it. It was time he found his own contentment again, started anew. His happiness had been so routed in my mother for so long, and as wonderful as that was, I was thrilled that he didn’t really have any other option than to be utterly selfish and look out for himself. “How about you? How’s your day looking?” He asked. “I’m in the shop. I’ve given Louis the day off because him and Libby are looking at some venue for the wedding, so it’s just me today.” “Bloody hell, they’re not wasting any time, are they?” “I think they think they’ve had enough wasted time. They’re so adorable, it’s ridiculous.” “And have you decided on your date with Lincoln yet?” “Uh… yeah. I said yeah.” “Oh that’s good. I’m glad. Are you feeling okay about it?” “Yeah, fine. It’s strange but… y’know. It’s good. Why not?” “C’mon, Fee. You can talk to me. I know you struggled last year, when Harry left.” I was beyond thankful that my dad had been there to console me through our breakup, or whatever the hell it was. He’d been the only person there who I felt I could talk to, spill my guts to, and he’d been wonderful throughout. My heartbreak was delayed, in some ways. I’d been so angry with him and so confused by the things he'd said and how things had ended, that even after he’d left completely it hadn’t quite sunk in. And following that, when my mum died, that took up every single emotion and every single inch of my body, I didn’t have the room to habitat the pain he’d caused. It must have been a few months after her funeral, long after he’d first left. Nothing happened in particular, but it hit me from nowhere; that he’d gone, that I wouldn’t see him again, that I’d really loved him and lost him. It took so long for it to sink in, but when it had, I broke. My dad felt the brunt of that. My dad was the one who had to pick up the pieces, and I still hadn’t quite managed to put them back together. “Um… I kinda feel-” I was cut short by the bell chiming as someone walked into my shop, shutting up completely because I recognised her instantly this time around. It was Harry’s mum. It had been exactly a year to do the day since I’d last seen Harry, and in walked his mother. I stared in disbelief. “Fee? You there?” “I’ll have to call you back, I’ve got a customer.” “Alright, speak soon.” “Bye.” I hung up quickly, shooting her a friendly smile which was returned as she began to mosey around my shop quietly once again. I couldn’t believe she was back again. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, despite the fact I knew she visited our little village. The fact she was there but I didn’t even know where Harry was, whether he’d ever reached her, if he’d even tried again. I felt really lost. “Julia?” I was timid, anxious. She turned to face me, looking sort of amazed. “I can’t believe you remember me.” She tittered. “It’s been over a year since I was last here.” “Well… I dunno.” I mumbled. “I uh… I guess I’m quite good with that sort of thing. We had a good chat.” There was a much grander reason behind why I remembered her so well, but that didn’t feel like the sort of thing I should just blurt out to her, even though seeing her then I really wanted to. I wanted her to know everything and hear what she had to say, because I’d never hear it from Harry. Their family was something I���d grown to care about and I wanted the best for all of them, even Jack. I recalled the time when Harry told me that he believed trauma either tied people together or tore them apart, and how their family had fallen victim to the latter, and I wanted so much for them to heal, tie themselves together even after all those years. Maybe they were on their way to that but I didn’t even know. There was much I could say to her. “We did.” She nodded. “How’ve you been?” “Yeah, yeah fine. How’re you?” “Good. Glad to be back, I love it here.” “It’s a beautiful place.” “It is. So, I feel like since you know my name, I should know yours?” She inquired. She was so friendly, so gentle. I saw a lot of Harry in her. They had the same eyes, the same beautiful smile, one that was warm and inviting. Even the energy she gave off without knowing reminded me of him, and suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry. It took so much strength to hold it back, but it was as though I could feel him there with me and it was agonising. “It’s Alfie.” I swallowed, and it hurt. “Alfie? That’s unusual for a girl.” “Yeah. It was my mum’s idea. Apparently, she was dead-set on it, much to my dad’s dismay. I think he wanted a really traditional name, but she wasn’t budging. She was tough like that.” “Did your mum grow up around here?” She asked, seemingly very intrigued. “Yeah.” “Did she… Did she have a dog called Custard?” I think my heart stopped beating, completely. She knew my mum. Harry’s mum knew my mum. “Rita.” I whispered, my tears brewing fully, unable to keep them at bay. “Yes, Rita! Rita was your mum?” She was excited, kindly ignoring the way I’d started to cry. “I went to school with her. She was… my best friend before I had to leave.” “How did… I…” “She was such a romantic. We used to play dress up, wear binbags as wedding dresses. Even then, she was set on the name Alfie. That’s how I knew, as soon as you said! We were so young, but she knew. I can’t believe she stuck with it! I remember it so well. I can’t believe this. What a small world. How is she?” Our world was even smaller than she recognised. My ties with Harry were even stronger and deeper and older than we could have ever known. Even when he’d told me his mother had grown up in Rosebury, I felt connected to him in new ways, but to now learn that our mothers had been so close in their childhood, it meant even more. I knew Julia had left when she was really young after losing both of her parents, and maybe that was why neither myself or my father could strongly recall hearing about Julia; maybe my mother had told us stories but never given a name, or maybe we’d just forgotten. It was mind blowing. “Um… She died. About a year ago.” “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” She rested her hand on her chest. “That’s… But she was so young?” “Very young.” I wiped my tears away quickly, embarrassed. “She uh… She had Alzheimer’s. Early onset, so… She had a lot of fight in her, but… Sorry, I dunno why I’m crying-” “Please don’t be sorry. It’s totally understandable. I’m sorry, I wish I hadn’t said anything-” “Are you kidding? I’m so glad you said something. Like… you knew my mum, that’s insane! I think these are happy tears, I don’t even know.” She reached out and took my hand, pinched her fingers into my palm and squeezed tightly, smiled sympathetically. She felt like a mother, in that way that some women do; certain qualities and sensations that just accompanied her and her friendly touch, a familiarity, a safeness. If anything, I think it made me cry even more, though that definitely hadn’t been her intention. “Thanks.” I sniffled and chuckled at the same time. “And sorry. I’ve probably made you really uncomfortable.” “Not at all. I’ve seen a lot of tears in my time, this is nothing new to me.” She comforted me as much as she could, her smile bright. “I had two little boys. Trust me, I know tears.” My vision dropped down to the counter, the mention of them making me want to block the entire conversation out. She was so unaware of how much I knew about her children and her husband and just how many tears had fallen in that family. They had struggled so much, lost so much. Even beyond their father, beyond what Jack and Harry had done in their teenage years; Harry had told me himself that there had been times where she struggled to even feed them because they didn’t have the money. She had been fighting for all of them on her own. Julia had faced and conquered some truly trying times. “M’still sorry.” I sniffled. “Tell you what, I’ll grab the wine I came for and I’ll get out of your hair.” She let go of my hand, thinking I’d want some space. “It was a Caymus, beautiful.” “I remember. Cabernet Sauvignon, right?” Already getting out from behind the counter to retrieve the bottle for her, I started to pull myself together, stop myself crying. “You’re good at this.” I remembered her last visit to my shop as though it had happened only days earlier. She didn’t know that I’d have any reason why I should remember her more than others, but after recognising her and ringing Harry and waiting, I was so tuned-in and locked-on that I could recall every aspect of that day, down to all the mundane details. I climbed our little ladder to grab the wine she desired down from the shelf, carrying it carefully back down the steps and then over to her, passing it carefully into her hands. “It’s free.” I told her. “I’m sorry? No. No, I couldn’t.” She tried to pass it back. “Please, you have to.” I pushed it to her. “My mum used to run this place, and if she was here today, you’d be leaving with a free bottle of wine. Please, have it.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” She clutched it to her chest, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath inwards, as though kindness was rare to her, as though this gesture was special, a moment and a feeling to cherish. “Thank you.” “You’re more than welcome.” I cooed. “I’ll maybe see you in another year or so, if I visit again.” “Please do.” I nodded. “Do you need a bag?” “No, this is perfect, thank you. Nice to see you, Alfie.” “You too.” She turned on her heel, heading to the door and swinging it open, one foot outside before I spoke, without even meaning to, without even knowing what I was doing, without even thinking, it just happened. “I know Harry!” I uttered urgently, instantly bringing her to a halt. I cursed quietly beneath my breath as she slowly turned to face me once again, evidently alarmed by what I’d said, and so was I. “I’m sorry?” She was quiet, startled. “Harry. I… I know Harry.” “My Harry?” I nodded, and she let the door close with herself still indoors, the two of us stood staring in silence for a portion of time I couldn’t possibly decipher. I could see from the look on her face alone that he hadn’t gotten in touch. She really hadn’t seen him since he was 18 years old. There was a chance I’d made a mistake by telling her, but Harry and his wishes were no longer mine to fret over. I didn’t need to worry whether he’d be angry for intruding or trying to push him, because he wasn’t even there to see it or experience it. I didn’t mean to take matters into my own hands because he had failed to, but if there was something that I could do to help their family then I would. “Where is he?” Her voice was feeble, scared to hear my answer. “I’m not sure. New York, I think, but I don’t know for sure. But he was here, for a while. He lived here.” “Here?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He bought your old house for you.” “What?” “He bought it for you. Did it up, hoping you’d come back. It’s beautiful, and as far as I’m aware it was never put up for sale again so… I think he’d want you to know. It’s yours, if you want it. The number I had for him was disconnected months ago, but I just know how much he wants you to have it.” Embarrassingly, I had tried to call him more than once. Usually after a few drinks, feeling lonely and asking questions about him and his wellbeing. It wasn’t that I ever knew what I wanted to say, but I knew I wanted to hear his voice more than I could even understand. “I… I haven’t heard from him for years.” “No… I haven’t either.” I choked. “But I know he tried a few times, to find you. I think he was just scared… after what happened.” “He told you what happened?” There was almost a sense of scrutiny in her voice, staggered. “He… Yeah.” I mumbled. “He was never much good at talking.” She was so dazed she sounded somewhat serene. “We… We got pretty close.” It seemed to me as though she hadn’t blinked at all from the moment I had said his name, in such a state of disbelief over what I was telling her, the fact I knew him at all. I’d just known in my heart that I had to tell her, even though it didn’t help either of us. I didn’t even have a way she could reach him, but that was beside the point. She remained quiet for a while, adding some things together from what I’d said and what she knew of her son. “He was in love with you, wasn’t he?” My body rejected the notion rapidly, shaking my head and breaking our eye contact, feeling like I’d been punched in the chest. Over a year, and the damage he had done when he’d spurned my love was still evident. “Uh… No. No, he wasn’t. I-I wish.” I tried to joke breathily, but neither of us laughed. “But I need you to know that… Your son is an incredible man. He’s grown into this… beautiful, kind, amazing person. He’s changed, and I really… I think you should reach out to him.” Her smile was fleeting, but I saw it, truly saw it, and I saw everything it held. I think what I liked about her smile that occurred over my words concerning her son ran deeper than the obvious pride, because within that brief and beautiful smile I noted how she didn’t seem at all surprised by what I’d said about who he’d become since she last saw him. I knew then that she’d always seen the good in him, she had always known how wonderful he was, in spite of his mistakes, but she’d just needed some time. After all those years and all that pain, she had chosen to put herself first, something she hadn’t been able to do when she was caring for all three of them. I appreciated that she had it in her to do that. For years, I had wanted my dad to be selfish enough to put himself first, look after himself, and he hadn’t really managed to do that until recently. I had to respect the way she had been as bold as to love herself enough to know her health had to be put first at some point. She may have cut him off for her own reasons, but she knew Harry was a good person. He always had been. “I’ve tried.” She told me simply. “What? Did you… Did you get through to him?” “I wish.” She faked a smile, repeating words I’d used just as wistfully. “It’s not easy. He’s a renowned artist, which makes him… hard to reach.” I hadn’t really thought of it that way before. For the time he’d been in my life, he was there and he was ours and he was close and familiar, so much so that it was hard to think of him in the sense of him being an artist, a public figure. Of course he’d be difficult to reach from outside of that; even when he used to go away for weeks at a time, he completely disappeared off the radar, made himself inaccessible. Harry would have been well aware of that, which was likely another reason he always felt it was in his hands to reach out to her. “I tried a few times. I got through to his agent once, but I never heard anything back.” “Fuck.” I seethed. “His agent is such a prick. I’ve never even met him but… fuck, I hate him.” I didn’t need to meet him and I had no desire to ever meet him because I knew exactly what he was like, even from the few facts I had, the basic knowledge I’d acquired through what Harry had shared with me about him. He literally wanted to keep Harry in pain and provide hardship, because that was where the art came from. He didn’t care about Harry’s health or happiness, he only cared about the buyers and the money. “Harry doesn’t know that.” I continued once I’d taken a few moments to calm down. “If he knew, he’d have replied. I spoke to him about it more than once. He doesn’t think you’ve even tried since he left for uni.” “I did, but then it got to the point where I felt I had to stop.” “Why?” “Because I didn’t want him to think for even a second, that the only reason I was trying was because of his money. We really struggled when he was growing up, and I didn’t want him to think that I only wanted to see him because he’s doing well for himself. The thought kills me.” An abundance of complications had kept them apart when they so desperately wanted to join themselves again, make amends and rebuild all that was broken. It was heart-breaking to think they had both wanted and tried for the same thing for years and yet it hadn’t happened for them. “That makes sense.” I acknowledged. “It’s… so complicated.” “Is he well? In himself?” “I wish I could tell you.” I started crying again. “I really fucking wish I could tell you. I hope so.” I craved to know the answer to that question myself, but I didn’t know and I wasn’t sure I’d ever know. His existence was now entirely separate from mine. Our only link in that moment appeared to be his mother, who was stood right in front of me holding back tears. I was as clueless as she was. “I’m sorry.” I sobbed. “It’s not your fault. It feels so surreal to speak to someone who knows him so well, knows what happened. I miss him terribly and it’s… As sad as it is, it’s almost comforting. To know he spoke to you. To know he found the courage to talk.” She shuddered. “You have no idea how much that means. That’s how I know he loved you, dearly. It’s been too long, but I know my son very well. He wouldn’t have told you about what happened with our family without feeling as though he was giving you his whole heart. I know it.” Even though I felt I knew more, things that made me immediately want to dismiss what she was saying, I didn’t want to say that to her. Him managing to talk was important, and I didn’t want to shatter that for her because of things that had happened months later. Instead, I tried to embrace what she was saying, beginning to appreciate that even if it hadn’t been love, it had been something significant for both of us. He might not have loved me in the way she thought, or the way I had wished he had, but I’d meant something to him, momentous enough that he had shared parts of himself that he would only hand over to someone he truly trusted. I reached for her hand the way she had reached for mine earlier, squeezing tightly in a rather weak attempt to comfort her, show her that tears were accepted, a sign of her strength more than a moment of weakness. And though our links to one another had only ended with the two of us in tears, we smiled at each other then as though we were grateful it had happened, grateful we’d gotten to talk and be open with each other. We shared something special in those moments. We somehow both ignited and eased the pain simultaneously. I appreciated her presence more than I’d ever be able to word.

[artyrogue]

Blind Date Gaming: Mortal Kombat

Ever wonder what it was like to date a famous person? It's definitely a fantasy some share, I'm sure. There's intrigue in the idea -- Would they be as amazing as you thought they were? Would they floor you as much as indicated from the legacy they had created? Well, PRANG set me up to find out in my own brand of blind dates.

MORTAL KOMBAAAAAT! Now, I ought to start out and say that I'm not much of a fighting game player. Most fighting games out there rely on players to memorize long combinations of button presses to perform different moves (different for each character, making it even worse...), requiring research, rote memorization (at least until you get the muscle memory), and a ton of spacing and tactical wisdom that only comes from dedicating a significant chunk of time to the game. I suppose that's due to the genre's typical lack of a long campaign. Regardless, I have a night for this game, so obviously I'm not going to be a master here. Additionally, how good can a Game Boy port of this game be? Well, let's find out!

You get to choose between six fighters. You don’t get to see their names, either, so good luck telling greyscale Sub Zero apart from photocopied Scorpion. Now, I played this game a bit as a kid  since a friend of mine had it, but I never got really far. I was always a big fan of Raiden since he looks so stupid when he does his open-palm punch things, though, so let's go with him! He's a god or something, right? Plus, his eyes are glowing with that terrifying light grey color! He's sure to strike fear into any who dare stand against him!

yeah no, I suck at fighting games

Okay, so I decided to drop Farmerhat McZipZap and pick one of the iconic masked vestsmiths. Plus, with this whole COVID thing, they're the best-equipped to fight without catching horrible diseases -- possibly the most lame Fatality that you can suffer from in a fighting tourney. So I picked Sub-Zero to make dumb ice one-liners and started messing around with controls until I found the basics. I kept getting owned at first because I had no idea how to do anything but punch, kick, and jumping versions of both of those. Luckily, I figured out a few moves myself, including the best move in the game -- the sweep attack.

This is what 95% of my fights looked like and they each ended in victory

Sweeping proved to be so deadly that it carried me through most of the game. I don't know if the CPU is just dumb or if the priority on sweeping is just that broken, but the only time I tended to get hit was when the CPU used a sweep attack slightly faster or when the really horrible controls screwed up and walked backwards slowly. Oh, and did I mention there’s considerable input lag and the framerate is abysmal? Yeah, all great features for a fighting game.

The living statues are incredibly confused at these dorks crouch-fighting

I eventually looked up a guide because it's impossible to stumble upon character-specific moves without a guide or instruction manual, as there’s no practice area or in-game tips. Some of the specials on Sub-Zero were cool (heh), but they really didn't hold a candle to sweeping. Scorpion seems overpowered since his hook pulls you close and sets up an uppercut, which does 25% of your HP in a single hit. The other special attacks are all mostly avoided by ducking, though Raiden can apparently fly like a banshee? I dunno, all I could get him to do was back massages.

Stance is everything when you shoot energy attacks. If you don't look like a crowing rooster, you're not doin' it right.

So sweeping rocks. Great. I sweep and sweep, even past the completely unfair two-on-one fights (you have to take down two CPUs in a single life bar). Everything's goin' my way, and then they throw me Goro. This guy can give 4 high fives, barf campfires, and is apparently immune to sweeps and like half of the other possible attacks you can do. So, obviously, I lose like an idiot.

Is...is he asking for a hug or something?

That's when I learn the flying fist technique, which not only retains its effectiveness against lame CPUs but also actually looks cooler than the pseudo-breakdancing that is the sweep attack. It crushes Goro like Gallagher with a watermelon. Victory!

CROTCH PUNCH

So only one foe lies between me and total victory: Shang Tsung. Fortunately, he lacks Goro's immunities and I beat him to death in a corner after relapsing to sweep central. I kicked it up a notch! Trouble was a foot! Miscellaneous other stupid applicable puns!

Your shins are weak!

And so I won! What an unbelievably lame game! I assume the other versions were much more exciting and playable, but this was a sad one. It was clunky, sluggish, and felt like a chore at times. It also had some weird character attribution at the end, as if people starred in the game. This may have been for modeling the '3-D' characters, but I'd rather conclude that Rayden was actually some guy named Carlos in a goofy outfit.

Oh yeah, and if you're wondering, I did try some fatalities. Half of them are lame and just like flying punches. Sub Zero's was that way, unfortunately, but some of the others were fun. Scorpion breathes fire, Raiden electrocutes, and Sonya...uhh...kisses fire? Not sure about that one, but it might make Valentine's Day a little troublesome for her partner. Maybe she can only kiss underwater. What a dumb superpower!

So overall, this date was a hot mess. I definitely wouldn't recommend going on a second date. It lacks everything a good fighting game needs, proving that a name isn't everything. Definitely don't use this as a gauge for the rest of the series, though, as the other ports/games are fantastic. There are more sequels on the Game Boy, too, so here's hopin' those are better. Until PRANG serves me those, take this Sprite of Passage and show it off as the token representative of Mortal Kombat if it was run on a TI-83 calculator.

I don't know what this is, but it's apparently a world-class fighter in an extreme yoga pose

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ Patreon Commentary Catchup 2020-03-29

I know I’ve been sitting on half-a-dozen asks, but I’m gonna sit on those a little longer because after I’m done catching up on ALL the commentary I’ve missed I’ll probably be a little exhausted.

First the commentary on Chapter 5: YOUR 3Y3S H4V3 B33N CLOS3D.  I skimmed this before, just so I could leave a comment about what I’d been told about the suicide feeling / Jaspers funeral when she was “eight” being way too late on the timeline.  They still haven’t made any corrections to that HS^2 page.  Hm.  Are they just feeling the general vibe and tags to help the fandom guide things?  I’m wondering if anyone came to any of them specifically with that, since Patreon commentary doesn’t seem to cut it.  (Which I might be grateful for, from another point of view, because why would they favor paid methods.)

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 5, "YOUR 3Y3S H4V3 B33N CLOS3D"

Starting commentary on why they played with the medium by opting for a Longpage with that update.  Unsurprising and understandable~

Ooh, they included the commission/sketch instructions for the image they asked from Xam.

I don't know what we did to deserve Xamag.

Yeah few people dispute Xamag’s awesomeness.~

Much of this conversation was written before they launched HS^2′s first chapter, huh?

With the "primary" version of its original protagonist dead in a wallet,

Did... did Terezi or someone else put John’s body in his wallet after he died?  I forget.  *checks back*

(Meat 35) That’s definitely a fair question. But I have one that’s much more important for her to answer. Terezi, are you seriously just going to leave the body here? “TEREZI: HUH?” Of course not. Terezi’s a practical girl, after all. She digs the wallet out of her blood-stained pants, and captchas the corpse. She holds it close to her heart, like a secret. Like John’s stupid last words: a confession whispered for her and no one else.And then she starts walking home.

(Meat 36) Terezi’s jaw tightens. She’s not ready to hear any words that remind her of those few hours with John. Her hand goes to her pocket, where she’s keeping the wallet. She traces the contours of it with her thumb and forces a smile.

[...] Here we both are. It’s a beautiful day. You’ve got your dead boyfriend in your wallet. And we’ve already managed to strike such a nice metatextual rapport. So hear me out. [...]  I ease the throttle back a bit, just enough so that I’m not whispering directly into her ear when she slips the wallet out of her pocket. She clutches it so hard in her palm that she’s digging dents into the leather, and bites her lip.

God damnit, that was an important fucking thing for me to forget.  I hope she preserved his corpse in a better way than just “wallet”.  And why the FUCK did Dirk think it was so important to bring him???? That’s not good, is it.

Back to the commentary, going to how the Dirk crew’s conversations especially cover the meta question of why continue the story at all...

This is actually a similar question to one explored by a series that shares a lot of Homestuck's creative DNA, Steven Universe.

Oh god damnit, what timing, huh?  And then they go on about what constitutes a happy ending and what’s supposed to happen after, how work might not be done, et cetera.  Hopefully these authors take a page from how SU:F finished, because Steven Universe managed to pull it back to uplifting pretty well.

These are two dangerous women, confined together long enough to learn all of each others' weaknesses, and sharp-edged enough to exploit them.

True enough.

Dirk, unfortunately, cucks the audience from seeing the scene's "true resolution." What an asshole. I've never been madder at this guy than I am right now. I bet he didn't even provide a warranty.

Pff.

On to the next commentary:

Sketches and Commentary: Catnapped, Part Three

Catnapped is some of the most fun I’ve had while writing, because Jasprose is just so goddamn fun. Cats don’t plan, they live in the moment. She’s always existing in that moment of pushing a glass off the table.

We can all agree with that I think.

Plenty they talk about here, but I’ll just quote part of anything about characterization... 

First, I actually really appreciate getting a lot at Jane's genuine sympathy for Dirk here. There was quite a bit of mutual fondness and care between the two of them – but, at the same time, they enabled each others' worst tendencies.

Hm!

Swifer remains the closest thing to a "straight man" this story has. (Not in the sexuality way. In the comedy way.)

Yep.

There was no universe where we left this story without Jasprose saying "owo what's this". You know it, I know it.

Jesus Christ, I didn’t catch that.

God, Problem Sleuth just has the worst commuting luck. He should put some of his rug money into a permanent locksmith. Checking back in with these scenes is always a delight. It probably took PS like two hundred off-screen panels to get to this point. Miserable.

Wait, that’s right, Catnapped 28 is shown before DDD 12, but AFTER Dad is shown marching up handcuffed in Catnapped 26.  And yet in DDD 12, Dad and DD come fetch PS from out of his office, when the handcuffed thing hasn’t happened yet in DDD.  You can’t DO that, authors!  It only makes RELEASE ORDER sense, not any sort of OTHER sense?  What about when people come to catch up or read this later!  Come on, that’s sloppy.  Unless they’re going to leave PS behind to stay trapped in his office MORE, which I wouldn’t put past them.  (But, wouldn’t make sense since the bullethole from C28 is already there in DDD12.)  Andrew knew more of how to be responsible telling an out-of-time-sync story, believe it or not.

Commentary ends with a few sketches, like Jasprose doing a The Mask impression, appropriately.

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 6, "A Conversation Regarding Relevance"

Oh, it’s Jade time.

On alt!Callie’s starting Space rant:

I wanted to impress on everyone just how vast it is, and also to remind the audience that alt!callie has them at the same mercy that Dirk does. She can force us to listen to her pontificate endlessly if she so chooses. She’s slightly less insufferable than Dirk, if only perhaps because her text isn’t orange. 

Yep, mostly.

So here she is. Jade. We find out that not only is she conscious inside her own head, she is also incredibly chatty. And not too thrilled with her current situation. I know most of the audience isn’t either, considering the fact that Jade having no agency has basically become a meme at this point. 

NEVER. AGAIN. PLZ.

As Callie told us in the beginning of the chapter, it isn’t natural for people to behave like narrative devices. Even within her own thematic framework, Callie has a habit of defaulting to behaving like a person after all. 

Even alt!Callie still became a story nerd, not just original Callie -- she just became a different, more insufferable type of story nerd.

Plenty more discussion I don’t need to touch on...  keep in mind I’m omitting large parts of this in most cases, again, to respect the paywall.

A remark on Dave and Karkat being two emotionally-constipated early-twenties Bernie Bros, which... I mean.  Fair.

She definitely does love them, and she wanted to be with them, but also...Jade has a lot of other prospects. She’s actually the one character who seems to be enjoying her time on Earth c. Hitting up interspecies raves and getting around. We just haven’t seen any of that because none of those other people she boned are main characters. 

Maybe that’s why alt!Callie was so blind and dismissive of it?  Offscreen experience being less in the Light, therefore less relevant to her, even though that’s the exact attitude she’s ostensibly at war with?

Anyway Jade’s consciousness is huge.

Yep.

It’s been a while since we’ve had any sort of serious meta talk about classpects. Mostly because there’s really no use for classpects outside of the game, unless, for instance, you go around referring to everyone as the Prince or the Witch because you are a dramatic alien in a hood. It does make sense that a Witch’s powers would be more useful than a Sylph’s to a Muse. 

Aaaand that’s all the classpect mention we’re gonna get isn’t it? ;P

(Yes I know, the author told us to dial it back.  They ARE going ahead and prepping to answer some outstanding questions, though.)

Honestly, the Jade Situation is a tough one. To be sure, she has been sacrificed to the plot again and again, something that probably began as a coincidence and then later grew into a theme. Space players are destined to be huge, cosmic forces in the universe. Big movers. [...] But usually when we hear the story of big, god-like beings, we don’t think about the personalities behind them. What was it like for god to create the universe? Was he lonely? Did he regret it? Did he wish he could live in it instead? 

And Jade WAS too powerful not to sideline, by a certain point in the plot.  And before that, maybe trapped in a bit of a character arc where she had to get over some notions to step into the action.

I actually think Jade could have been okay with this. With being A Force For The Narrative. [...] But then Callie makes it personal.

Agreed.  If alt!Callie hadn’t been so shitty about it in general, they could have worked things out more meaningfully; but the immense resolve and effort it took to dominate Caliborn in her origin timeline has tainted her perception ALMOST as bad as Dirk’s.  Much of HS^2 is probably going to involve her gradually learning how to get over that in the background, the balance she needs to take ala the Ultimate Riddle’s lesson.

(Tangentially... it was said that it would have been nearly impossible to make alt!Callie dominate, even across ALL timelines.  What if alt!Callie had her timeline’s origin explained in HS^2 by a Third Scratch at this late date with the likes of Davebot running around to do it???  That would probably make me fucking mad.)

Back to the commentary.

Admittedly these last few chapters have definitely been “girls beating the crap out of each other” heavy, and I hope that’s okay.

PFFFFF

Callie and Jade aren’t really sure who makes a decision on what is considered “just” or “heroic”. Plot twist, it’s us. We do. But also the alpha timeline does.

Hmm.

More gorgeous Xam art. Initially we were going to make it more ambiguous whether or not she actually ate the peanut butter, but we decided to have it be a decisive moment of triumph.

Really?  Well, you could have made it visually clearer that the candy dropped.  A lot of people visually missed that.  This is a consequence of the back-and-forth artist-isnt-the-author art-commissioning going on, in part... Andrew was MUCH better at conveying what he wanted to convey BETWEEN panels than this crew, like comic book panels and their composition together; you can see that when comparing Homestuck proper’s sprite animation to that of fan adventures that used sprites, for instance.  These guys are at something of a disadvantage due to their disconnect.

Commentary on the Commentary

This commentary uses "she/her" to talk about the alternate Calliope possessing Jade, while the "other" Callie (remember them?) uses they/them. This other Calliope, presumably, has a much different relationship with her gender – and her brother – than the Callie we saw discussing the subject with Roxy and John. One of my favorite things about this update (I can say that, because I'm a second person who didn't write it) was that subtle hint about how different her Caliborn must have been to allow her to predominate in the first place. I'd be really interested in fan works exploring more about her (and his) past.

Hhhhmmmmmmm.

Not sure what else to say to that, but it does make me hmmm.

Sketches and Commentary: Diamonds, Dames, and Dads, Part 1

Probably not much plot-relevant here...

Oh pff.

They had full drawings of them going in for the kiss on standby.  They couldn’t resist making them.

Real talk, I have been looking forward to writing this story the most out of any other part of HS^2. Finally I get to combine my passions. Cheesy noir bullshit and old men making eyes at each other. 

Pfffffff.  Yes.

...the next three or four pages of this writing go on to describe how sexy this is and these characters and setting are.  I can’t fault a word of any of it.

The dream team is assembled. Nothing can possibly go wrong. 

Wow, I caught up on all this commentary quick.  See you next time.

[ievenranthisfar]

72 Needles In Millions of Haystacks // My First 24-Hour Orienteering Race

It’s somewhere around 3:00 in the morning. I’ve been up somewhere around 24 hours. And I’m… somewhere. I just don’t know where.

My partner Sean and I have just descended hundreds feet down a sheer rock face that’s dumped us into a pitch-black forest. Above us, a canopy of ancient pines blocks out the full moon. Below, the trunks of their fallen compatriots and an army of younger ones eager to take their place make our travel directionless and nearly impossible. And amid all this, we’re looking for a small, orange and white triangular flag with nothing more than a dot on the map, a compass, and the vague clue that it was located at a “reentrant.”

Suddenly, there at the bottom of that cliff, swallowed up by the forest, I felt very, very small. And very, very far away from anything. Forget finding the control, I think to myself. What if we can’t ever find our way out of this canyon?

Are we going to die down here?

__

A Little Compass Context

This was my first ever 24-hour rogaine orienteering race. I’d been introduced to orienteering a year and a half ago when my good running buddy Guillaume Calmettes invited me to a local event. He was using to sharpen his navigational skill in prep for his first run at the infamous Barkley Marathons. And he convinced me it was super fun and easy to pick up. He was correct.

In orienteering there are two basic formats. This first one I did was Classic, meaning you get handed a map of the area you’re in with little numbered dots on it. Then, you have to use your compass to find your way as you run from control to control in a pre-determined order as fast as possible. Beginner’s luck. I got second place. Guillaume got first.

The next event we went to the following month, I won.

Our compass skills were admittedly only okay. (Actually, Guillaume’s were fine. Mine, less so.) But having experience and fitness as a runner, helped us immensely. Still, we made plenty of mistakes. This year, I made some huge errors in races. It’s really humbling when it takes you 3:34 to finish a course, and the winner did it in 0:57. The beginner’s luck had run out.

Most orienteering events are relatively short, usually one or two hours long. But it’s incredibly intense. When you’re trying to find 15 different controls as fast as you can, you have your head buried in your map as you’re sprinting through parks, up and down hillsides and rooting through streams to find your controls.

Then Guillaume told me about rogaining. It’s the same thing, except it lasts for 24 hours. 🤯 I’ve run plenty of ultras that last longer than 24 hours, and I’ve done some orienteering races for a few hours, but I didn’t know you could combine the two. It sounded bonkers.

(For the record, the name rogaine comes from a portmanteau of the sport’s founding members’ names. It has zero to do with a fix for male pattern baldness.)

Guillaume and I talked wistfully about one day competing in the World Championship. Then, two months ago, I got a text. The North American Championship was taking place at the Nav-X Challenge in a month, in the Sierra National Forest. The top two teams would go to World. So we signed up.

Lake Shaver, near the course

A few days later, Sean Ranney reached out to Guillaume to see if he could join the fun. If you don’t know who Sean is, he’s an incredibly accomplished runner who holds the Tahoe Rim Trail unsupported FKT. He’s also the creator of a Barkley-style race called Euchre Bar Massacre every October. He’s legit.

Then, with just two weeks to go before Nav-X, Guillaume ran into some problems with his visa and had to return to France the day of the race. Sean and I were incredibly bummed to lose G, but we decided to go on and do the race. “Do it for Guillaume!” we said. “Or to rub it in his face!” We hadn’t decided which.

___

What To Expect When You’re Expecting

So, this is how I find myself waking up in a tent in the middle of the Sierra, waiting to be handed a map that would send me out into the forest on a very wild goose chase.

Camp/a Jeep commercial

Sunset the night before

Full moon over camp

Waiting for Sean to show...

Nine o’clock rolls around. Time to receive our maps. Sean is nowhere to be seen. Nine-thirty. Ten. I look around as other teams scurry to plot their movements and prep their gear for the next 24 hours. Time is running out. Instead of feeling stressed, I’m a little relieved. Maybe I won’t have to do this after all…

Ten-thirty. Sean’s red truck rolls into the dusty campground. I guess we’re doing this.

In a supremely ironic twist of fate, Sean had gotten lost for hours while driving to the starting area. This does not bode well for our future prospects. We exchange quick pleasantries and immediately get down to the business of plotting our moves. The High Sierra sun already beats down on us as we squat over a stump, with our highlighters and sharpies clenched in our hands. It feels oppressive already.

The second type of orienteering is called Score-O. All rogaine races are Score-O. The premise is that there are flagged controls laid out across the course, each assigned a point value based on difficulty to travel to it or find. Rather than racing for the fastest time, everyone has the same amount of time to nab as many controls/points as they can. If you’re skilled enough to get every single control, you’ve “cleared.” It’s a game of strategy. Do you go after more of the easy controls that are closer to the start but are lower value? Or do you try to go out farther and burn time to get higher-value controls further afield?

Looking at our map, we have 72 controls. The possibilities are pretty much endless as to how we can design our run. Hell, the map itself is huge. It’s over two feet tall. I’m just wondering how I’m going to carry this thing in front of me for 24 hours.

Being novices to this whole thing, Sean and I both frantically googled rogaine strategies in the week leading up to the race. Interestingly, it involves office supplies. So on drive way up the previous day, I had found myself in a Staples somewhere in the Valley buying various brightly color writing utensils.

First, we highlight all the high-value controls on the map in yellow. The locations of water drops we highlight in pink. It quickly becomes apparently that the northeast corner of the map has the highest concentration of 60, 70, 80, and 90-point controls, but they’re spread further apart, and the terrain seems to be more forested, meaning navigation and travel will be more difficult. Also, there’s more water. The southern portion of the course has the next highest concentration of points. It seems to be more exposed rock which will be faster nav and travel. No water to speak of though. The northwest sector is denser in the number of controls but they’re lower value.

The correct plan seems fairly obvious (I think). We decide we’ll make a big loop of the northwestern segment first while we’re fresh, it’s hot, and we still have sunlight. Then, we’ll loop back to the hash house (the start/finish area), resupply and head out on our second loop. This loop will take us to the south overnight, where it should theoretically be easiest to navigate and we won’t need much water. Then, we’ll head back to the hash house for another resupply and go out on our third loop to pick off as many easier, lower-point controls as we can before noon tomorrow.

(One thing to factor into strategy is the penalty for finishing late. In this case, we’d lose 10 points for every minute past 24 hours that we’re out of the course. So you also want to plan the end of your race to have points where you can call audibles towards the end.)

Marking up the map

With our basic game plan laid out, we quickly start penciling in lines of travel from control to control. Again, more strategy. This time we’re trying to make each move the shortest possible while also hitting every control and simultaneously avoiding any overly difficult moves due to a giant mountain between them, dense forest, whatever.

We check our watches. It’s just a few minutes before the noon start. We quickly draw over our lines in sharpie, shrugging to each other occasionally. “I guess this seems good, right?” “Yeah. It all feels easy right now at least.”

Slipshod plan formatted, we hurriedly stuff all our gear, clothes and food into our packs. Because, oh yeah, since you’re going to be out in the wilderness on your own pretty much the whole race, you need to carry everything with you too.

Ready to roll

Still cramming stuff in our vests, we amble up to the starting area. We are, as usual, the outliers. Like any sport, orienteering has its own mores, particularly when it comes to fashion. Pants to protect the legs while crashing through underbrush. Long-sleeved shirts to deal with fluctuating temperatures. Protective hats to block hours of sun exposure. Calf-high gaiters to keep shoes free from any debris. Big packs to carry a day’s worth of supplies. Hiking-style shoes to cover the harsh terrain. We have none of this.

No, Sean and I stand there in our bright, little running shorts. Thin, polyester shirts. Tiny packs. We have so much skin exposed, I’m sure the other races are wondering if we’ll die of exposure or blood loss first.

It’s also worth noting that Sean and I are on the young end of the age spectrum. By a lot. Looking around, the average age seems to be hovering around 55. Orienteering, for whatever reason, tends to attract a much older crowd. I suppose it’s because it’s a thinkers’ sport. As I’ve learned time and time again, a great navigator who can move slowly but efficiently can crush a fast runner who’s shitty at navigation. Skill and experience levels the playing field immensely.

It’s 11:59. Our big adventure begins soon. The race directors herd us into the starting corral and offer a few final tidbits of intel and advice. And then, it’s, “OK… go!”

“Here goes nothing…” I mutter to Sean.

___

Noob Troop Loop

Orienteering starts are funny. Because each team has chosen a different one of the millions of possible permutations of routes, everyone scatters off in totally different directions immediately.

Sean and I bound out of the campground and down the main dirt road to the first bend, where we stop and consult our maps. We line up our compasses and shoot a bearing to the east-southeast, where our first control, 307, will supposedly be. Flipping over the map, I read the description of 307 off the chart. It simply says, “Broad saddle.” We peel off and quickly find ourselves climbing up a steep hill, dodging underbrush as best as we can. Soon enough, we top out. The saddle. But where is the control? We run a few hundred feet to the right, nothing. So we backtrack and try the left. Soon, “There it is!” We see the orange and white dangling from a tree branch. We quickly insert our e-sticks (basically USB sticks attached to our hands) to record our presence and then immediately consult the map again.

Moving from the hash house (pink) to 307 to 405

Control 405. To the east-northeast, maybe half a mile away. Rather than shoot straight there, we see that there’s a road between it and us. The road connects to another road that travels within about a tenth of a mile to it. And near there, there’s a junction with a trail. So, we can travel expeditiously via road, then shoot our bearing off the trail junction so we know exactly where we are and the exact angle we have to travel to reach 405, labeled “Marsh, S end.” Or at least that’s the idea.

We make our way to the road, turn on the second road, and fairly quickly find the junction. From there, we shoot the bearing and sprint off, back into the woods. Soon enough, we find a marsh and start scanning the area. Nothing. We move along the edge, trying to stay on the south side. But as the control continues to remain elusive, we begin just running around aimlessly hoping to bump into it. Ten minutes go by. “Where the hell is this thing?” “We’re definitely at the south end of the marsh… right?”

Finally, I pull my head out of the moment. “Stop. Let’s look at the map.” That’s when I notice that the marsh isn’t just one big strip; it has a bend into it, breaking the marsh into two distinct sections. “What if we’re in this part of the marsh, not over here?” Lightbulb. We’d overshot the bearing just enough that we’d landed ourselves in the smaller, adjacent part of the marsh. We turn 180 degrees and crashed through more underbrush until, there it was. The other part of the marsh. We sprint down its south face, and sure enough, the control comes into view. Ah, I’m starting to see how this is going to go…

We dip our e-sticks and I look down at my watch. 12:40. Two controls in 40 minutes. “Spot on pace!” I announce naively but also fully aware that it’s it’s naive. With 72 controls, to clear the course, we’ll need to find a control every 20 minutes for 24 hours straight. Two things: 1) That is an insane pace, and 2) it means we can make zero mistakes, like, ever.

So, time to get going. We consult the map again. Our next objective is 706, labeled “Reentrant.” We check our compasses and take off.

For the next hour or so, we’re cranking along nicely. Our control-every-20-minutes pace holds up. At 300 (“Broad terrace, N end”), I pull my head out of the map for a moment. It’s been two hours since we’ve started. “Holy shit. I feel like I’ve been out here with you all day,” I tell Sean.

There is no down-time in orienteering. No time to turn your brain off. No time even to eat or drink really. Your head’s always buried in your map, staring off the end of your compass, or scanning your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimmer of orange out of the corner of your eye. And as soon as you do and you’ve tag the control, your heads right back at it again. Oh, and you’re also running or hiking fully cross-country, hopping over logs, running down bare rock faces, hopping over talus fields, or breaking through underbrush, trying not to fall on your face.

Remember that thing you tried to do when you were little where you’d try to pat your head and rub your belly. It’s sort of like that except you’re also juggling a soccer ball, reciting pi to the 100th decimal, cooking an omelet, and doing your taxes.

___

Needle In A Haystack

The afternoon goes off relatively without much of a hitch. We trudge up hillsides, take shortcuts on logging roads that are nowhere to be seen on the map, skip across waterlogged marshes, cross long talus fields, and refill our bottles in cold, mountain-fed streams. Most importantly, we’re picking off controls here and there with only occasional difficulty. I actually can’t believe how well we’re moving. Honestly, I came into the race feeling only OK about my compass skills. But with the repetition of doing it over and over and over, hour after hour after hour, I’m starting feel cautiously confident.

Additionally, Sean and I have a very complementary partnership emerging. Ying and yang. He seems to be better with the compass and traveling over large distances to the general area of a control. Once there, I tend to be better at reading the immediate terrain and spotting the controls at a distance. (“LASIK!” I tell him. “The best money I’ve ever spent!”) And when one of us falters in his unspoken area of expertise, the other picks up the slack and the roles reverse. I’m really liking our chances.

Our entire northern loop

Eventually, we reach the very far northwestern corner of the map. 830, “Bare rock, W foot.” We sight ourselves off a massive wall of bare rock rising almost a thousand feet to our right. We’re almost surrounded by it in fact. I suddenly start to feel a quiet terror. It’s a cross between claustrophobia and helplessness. I realize just how far away we are from everyone and everything. Civilization. Safety. And any sense of origin. It’s like riding in an airplane and suddenly thinking about the fact that you’re 30,000 feet above the Earth in a metal tube. We round a giant grouping of boulders and thankfully spot the control. Mercifully, the feeling washes away in our excitement.

We make a few more moves. We shoot a bearing from 631 (“Stream”) to 821 (“Marsh, partially treed, SW part”). The move feels fairly complicated on the map. In practice, it’s even worse. But after 25 minutes or so, we find ourselves in the general area where we think we’re supposed to be. Except, we have no idea where we actually are. Or where the marsh is. Instead, we’re on a steep, loose hillside, chockful of deadfall and chaparral. This looks nothing like a marsh. This looks like the opposite of a marsh. Sean, sure he knows where we are, shoots off up the hillside. I follow him but only half-heartedly, feeling like he’s going the wrong way. My head starts to spin. The airplane feeling comes on again.

Five minutes later. “Stop! Let’s look at the map and see where we think we are,” I implore. “I think we’re here,” Sean points with the corner of his compass. I’m not sure how he arrived at that conclusion. But, scanning the dense canopy of trees enveloping us, I have no better counter. “I think we need to go back up here,” he points. I’m at a loss so I shrug and say sure.

We fumble around for another 15-20 minutes. Then I hear Sean shout, “Found the marsh!” “You glorious son of a bitch!” I exclaim and sprint towards the sound of his voice. Sure enough, he’s located a marsh perched on a shelf on the hillside. In my excitement, I try to hop over a huge trunk, but my shoe catches a piece of bark and I ragdoll. Flipping forward, I slam into the marsh, bent at a 90-degree angle the wrong way. “Shit! Shitshitshitshitshiiiit.” I follow up with, “I’m OK!” I look down at my knee, and it’s bright red. Blood oozes down, soaking my sock below. I pop up, more embarrassed than hurt. “You alright, man?” Sean asks. I look down at my leg, wet with blood. “Yeah, the flies are just going to have a little feast,” I grin.

After all this, we can’t even find the control. We flail a bit more until we realize there are in fact several marshes on this hillside. None seem to actually be on the map. We make our way from one to another, until we finally find our “treed marsh” and the control. Finally.

After spending the last four hours totally off-trail in the middle of the wilderness, our next line of travel bisects a trail and then turns into a logging road. We make it there, and it feels surprisingly wonderful to be swaddled in civilization again. And good thing too, because night is falling fast.

We have a half dozen more controls to get us back to the hash house, but most all are near roads or trails so we cruise through them without incident. The only snafu comes on the very final control, a quarter mile from the campground. 201 (“Stream junction”). At 20 points, it should be uber easy. But somehow we find ourselves going up and down a dry stream bed, back and forth, looking for a non-existent control. Something is clearly wrong, but we can’t work it out. We both get frustrated. I rise the idea of just cutting bait—it’s only 20 points after all—and heading home. But Sean’s stubbornness is quickly joined by my own, and we refuse to give up. I know this is a poor use of our time, but I know how angry I’ll be with myself tomorrow if we don’t get every control we try for. The moment of frustration forces us to pause and regroup. Sean looks at the map and, in his amazing wisdom that I still don’t understand, decides that we must be in the wrong stream. Looking at the map, I’m not sure that we could be in any other stream. But absent a better idea, I go with it. Five minutes later and back on the road, we spot our correct stream. We instantly feel foolish. Five minutes more of fighting vegetation along the stream bed and we find the control. A short jog later and we’re back at the hash house.

It feels good to be back amongst people and lights and manmade objects. The timing tent is playing some Zeppelin, and the RD offers me soup. I greedily accept. I see a full bottle of Mrs. Butterworth syrup sitting on a table and say, “Oh. Are you guys making pancakes later?” The RD stares at me and just says, “No.” “Uh… OK.”

It’s 9:30. We tell the few people lounging around where we’ve been, and they seem impressed. It feels good; we must be doing something right. We’re a third of our way through the course, which is great. But it also means clearing the course is out of the question. No mind.

I jog back to my Jeep, grab a fresh battery pack for my headlight and shove more gels, turkey sandwiches and formerly-frozen burritos into my pack. Ready to roll. We know night will be trying, but we just don’t know how much.

___

Descent Into Darkness

Time to begin our southern loop. Drier, opener, faster (supposedly). We pop out on the road and look for the second path junction to the left. According to the map, it should come very quickly. But it doesn’t. Or it does. We can’t tell. There are so many Jeep trails and turn-offs, it’s hard for us to know which is the correct one. We choose one that seems right. But the trail isn’t bearing in the direction it is on the map. Still we follow it. Dumb. We’re going uphill now. This seems very wrong. It’s supposed to be flat. Still we follow it. Finally we both agree it’s wrong. Duh. We head back down to the road. For some reason we think the trail must be farther away from camp so we head out. We take other side trails momentarily before deciding they’re wrong. We probably run at least a mile from camp. At some point, a pickup comes rumbling down the dirt road keeping up dust in our headlamps. “Oh hey guys! Is that Andy and Sean?” Through the floating dust and the stupor in my head, I can’t really make out who it is. After a few moments, I dawns on me that it’s one of the RDs. Sean explains to him what we are—or aren’t—doing. “These roads are all fucked up, man. Just get to a control and shoot straight lines from there,” he offers as advice. As the pickup chugs off, I say to Sean, “Well no shit. That’s what we’re trying to do.” But he’s right. The area is so heavily used we can’t trust the map or anything we see. So what do we do?

We fumble around for another 20 minutes or so before we finally identify a set of cliffs off to our right. On the map, we see a symbol for cliffs. We’ve finally located ourselves. PHEW. And we’re right by a control. We shoot a bearing and head off towards 202 (“Marsh, just N of N tip”). And we find it! We curse, we laugh, we howl. But we’ve found it. And we burned 70 minutes doing it. For 20 points. Just a quarter mile from the starting line. Woof.

With a new understanding of where we are, we shoot a bearing and head off into the wilderness once more.

Earlier that afternoon I had said, “How the hell are we supposed to do this in the dark?” Now that it was dark… yeah. “Flying blind” does not begin to accurately describe what we’re doing. We just take a bearing, point ourselves in a direction and pray that we end up there. And our “easier, rockier” loop is nowhere to be seen. It’s all dense forests with zero visibility. (Fun fact! Almost all 24-hour rogaines are held as close to full moons as possible!) The one advantage the night provides is that the controls have pieces of reflective tape on them. So, if you’re scanning your surroundings, your headlight might at least catch a glimmer coming off the tape. This proved appreciably helpful in spotting controls at a great distance, ones that we probably wouldn’t have caught in daylight.

But still, it’s just really fucking hard.

After we grab a few controls, we head towards a big section of cliffs. It looks cool on the map. It looks cooler in person. We claw our way up a sheer rock face onto what turns out to be a massive, smooth granite ridge, rising hundreds of feet above the surrounding valley. We find 902 (“Spur/bare rock, access from N or S”) rather easily. There’s nothing else up there besides the control attached to a lone tree clinging stubbornly to the rock. We register our e-sticks and then sit down for a minute.

“Wow. It’s really beautiful out here.” In the full moon, we can finally see the world around us. It’s a symphony of rock and wood and water lit by the pale glow of a giant rock floating in the sky reflecting sunlight from millions of miles away. For a minute, inside all the madness, the world is perfect.

“Dude. I’m going to eat my fucking burrito,” I exclaim. I throw my pack off and dig in, finding the now-nearly-warm bean and cheese burrito that had been sitting in the bottom for 12 hours now. I bite into it and immediately start moaning. “I can feel the endorphins firing in my brain,” I gush to Sean. He laughs politely. I’m in heaven.

A few minutes later, we say goodbye to the view, take our bearings and head down off the cliffs. Rather than change back to forest, the ground beneath our feet stays sandy and open. “Finally!” I shout. “The rocky loop we were promised.” Feeling in high spirits, we cruise downhill towards 506 (“Reetrant”). At only 50 points, this one should be no problem… Right?

Forty-five minutes later, Sean and I are just flabbergasted. I’ve run out of curse words. I’m empty. I’m fully defeated. We’ve run up and down this damn stream so long looking for a junction to shoot a bearing from that I don’t even know what my name is anymore. We’re flailing. Several times, I fully lose the thread. I look down at my map, and it’s gibberish. I forget which control we’re looking for. I start trying telling Sean he’s wrong, as I’m looking at a totally different part of the map. I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.

We sweep the forest back and forth, a few dozen feet from the stream and a few dozen feet apart from each other, hoping to catch the glint of reflective tape in our headlamps. But the battery on my light is dying and has automatically dimmed itself. Even if the control is out here, I probably won’t see it. If was more coherent I’d be upset. Instead I’m just apathetic.

Somehow, we decide to sweep in the opposite direction, way downstream, which feel very wrong to us, but at this point, it’s the only thing we haven’t done. Running—mostly out of desperation—we drop into a deep forest and begin thrashing around in the undergrowth when suddenly, “Holy shit! I’ve got it!” We find it. I have no idea how that control relates to what we were looking for, but I don’t care. Desperation gives way to a rush of relief.

Here’s what it looked like on Strava. Woof.

Later, as we’re following our next bearing, Sean and I both admit to each other that we thought about suggesting we just bail on the control. But then we both realized we couldn’t.

And here’s the true challenge of rogaine. Ninety percent of the time you can’t just skip a control that’s hard to find. Because if you don’t know where the control is, then you don’t know here you are either. And if you don’t know where you are, you don’t where we’re you’re going next. So, you’re forced to find the control, even if it feels impossible, because it’s your own way out alive.

The rest of the night continues on, eventfully and uneventfully. Ironically, we seem to have the most difficulty finding the lowest-point controls while the high-value controls are relatively easy to locate. We joke about it. It’s funny. I think.

Features like “clearing” and “reentrant” continue to be the bane of my existence. What constitutes one clearing over another clearing? What the actual fuck is a reentrant anyway?

We flail in the dark some more.

We drop down a rock face to a deep dark forest where I think we’re going to die. Somehow, by sheer miracle, I get the sense that the control is much farther north than we think it is, and we sweep the edge of the forest. Four minutes later, I catch the gleam of reflective tape in my headlamp.

Another time, Sean and I are a bajillion miles away from anywhere we think we know. We’ve been running across a series of gullies towards 907 (another fucking “reentrant”). We’ve run ourselves down deep into the folds of a hillside. We’re surrounded by rocks and more rocks. We have no idea where in the world we possibly are. And then all of a sudden Sean shouts, “I see it!” There it is, two hundred feet above us. Another miracle.

The night goes on, until dawn slowly yawns on the horizon. I realize I feel better than I’ve ever felt in ant 100-miler at this point. We’ve covering a lot of ground, and it’s more full-body, but I’m not gutting myself to do it. And the necessity of focus actually makes me feel sharp. Then I realize I’ve only eaten a few hundred calories all night. I check my water bottles. Oh yeah. I’ve only drank about 20 oz of water in the last 12 hours too.

No mind. The sun comes up and navigation becomes easier again. Weirdly, I miss the reflective tape. You can’t have it all.

The next control is 623. I read the description: “Pool at base of 8m water (no access from NW).”  “Oooh! That sounds delightful,” I say. We find it. It is delightful. Just as the sun has risen, we find ourselves in the midst of a smooth, rocky gully with a gently roaring waterfall surrounded by glimmering pools of cool water. “I’m really glad we did this one,” I say out loud, instantly feeling like we’re an old, married couple.

Five minutes later, I’m blowing my ass out behind a bush.

Three controls away from finishing our second loop, we hit another snafu. We burn what feels like an hour wandering aimlessly through the forest. It’s 503 (another fucking “reentrant”). It should be easy. It’s not. I shout at Sean to stop and let’s think this thing out. We orient ourselves off a giant wall to the north of us and try to think our way out of this thing. Ten minutes later, I start shouting “Hallelujah!” as the world around us is finally matching up with the world on our maps. We split up and two minutes later I shout, “Holy shit I found it!” Seriously, what is a reentrant anyway??

An hour later, we’re back at the hash house. It’s around 9:00 in the morning. The first loop took us 9.5 hours. The second one took 11.5. Clearing the map is waaaay out of the question. But as we’re milling around the food tent, we still feel plenty good. Sean and I both make a beeline for the industrial-sized can of cocktail fruit and spoon the syrup and processed pineapple into our cups and guzzle it whole. It’s heavenly.

Also, fruitcake FTW.

___

Victory Lap?

We’re closing in on two hours left. It’s getting hot again. I know Sean wants to quit. He knows I want to quit. I know he knows that I want to quit. He knows that I know that he wants to quit. But instead, we make plans to head out on our final, truncated loop. We’ll pick off a few controls that are nearby with enough time to return before noon. (Good rogaine strategy! I feel proud.)

Sean looks a little rough. I didn’t eat many calories overnight, but he ran out. Nonetheless, all night, he’d pushed the pace on hills, leaving me in the dust. I’ve been perkier on the roads and had to pull him a bit. Basically, we’re both beat. We don’t want to admit it to the other person. It’s funny that we only met about 24 hours ago.

“We leave by 22,” we agree. Translation: 10:00am. We’ll have two hours to complete our mini-loop of four controls. It’ll only be 130 points total, but it’s more to prove to ourselves that we refuse to quit. At 10:00am precisely, we meet by the port-a-potties.

In my mind, this mini-loop is a victory lap. We find the first control with ease. The second with ease. The third with ease. The fourth one pretends to be difficult but soon we wrangle it in. With most of the course under our belts and 45 minutes left, we head back home.

At the hash house, we jam our e-sticks in the control labeled “FINISH” and give each other a series of handshakes, fist-bumps and hugs. We did it.

___

“That’s A Good Thing”

When we put our e-sticks into the download terminal—basically the thing that receives all those timestamps when we punched the different controls—the printer immediately spit out a long receipt-looking thing. “Wow. That’s long. That’s a good thing,” says the volunteer working the computer.

I look at my receipt. It says we have 2,900 points. I look over at the timekeeper’s screen, and the top number of points I see from other teams is 2,630. Whoa. We might have won.

We did all that. Sheesh.

There’s still twenty minutes left—it’s 11:40am—so there’s a good chance another team could still come in and kick our asses.

Fifty minutes later we’re standing at the awards ceremony. I’m cracked out my mind. I’m dirty. Sticky. Tired. Blood-shot-eyes-y. But eventually the RD announces, “Male team, open… with 2,900 points… wow, that’s almost the whole map… Pacific Mountain Runners, Andy Pearson and Sean Ranney!”

Beginner’s luck again. We’re the North American Champions.

The best part about orienteering is how quaint it is. (And I don’t use that word pejoratively.) This award ceremony is only a few dozen people huddled around an awning trying to stay out of the sun. The awards come in dozens of flavors, across every possible permutation of age and gender divisions imaginable. And the awards themselves? A certificate declaring “2019 North American Rogaine Champion” with the name section blank—RD: “You can write your own name in” —and your choice from a variety of chocolates. As far as I can tell chocolate is the belt buckle of orienteering. The adventure has been so epic, and the reward so unassuming, it feels perfect.

What winning feels like.

What winning tastes like.

___

The Venn Diagram

Reflecting back, I’m both proud of and humbled by what we did. The experience taught me more in 24 hours than I think I’ve ever learned. From geology to map-reading to problem-solving to ultrarunning to 500 other things, orienteering requires everything from you. But it’s a constant education too.

I love ultrarunning deeply. It speaks to a deep physical and spiritual part of human existence. But orienteering adds the mental aspect as well. You have to always be on.

We ended up moving more than 60 miles in 24 hours, with probably 90-95% of that being off-trail. (Full Strava details here.) During the race, I joked with Sean that the Venn diagram of people who would actually do this is so incredibly small. You have to possess the ability to run/hike at ultramarathon distances while also calling on a deep reservoir of navigational and outdoor experience. (Or in my case, just faking it.)

___

Not The End

If any of this sounds at least mildly interesting to you, I’d encourage you to look up orienteering clubs in your city. Almost all cities have one. In LA, ours is the LAOC. They have monthly events that are usually just an hour or two in length, and they’re a great way to try your hand at it. (Also, a fun family activity for kids!) Learning these kinds of map and compass skill is deeply rewarding and can add all kinds of new dimensions to your appreciation of the outdoors.

Basically, try it! And if you have questions or want some tips, let me know. I’m happy to help.

In the end, more than being proud of what we did, I’m proud of what we learned. And I can’t wait to hack our way through the Rogaine World Championship in Lake Tahoe next August. I just hope there won’t be any fucking reentrants.

[krakenator]

CHAPTER 1 aka “Stranger Danger”

I’m rereading The Property of Hate by @modmad and overanalyzing it to hell and back because i can’t stop thinking about the story and getting madder and madder about the PUNS I keep finding. I’m scratching the itch and trying to find All The Details. Current plan is just to go chapter by chapter, feel free to chime in with stuff I miss! There’ll be a masterpost up soon linking everything in one spot

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally. Masterpost

Okay, so just a million things right off the bat on page fucking one

‘The Hook’ is of course a term for the beginning of a story. Grabbing one’s attention and convincing them to go off on an adventure, so to speak

Speechboxes! Everybody’s got their own distinctive ‘way of speaking’ in this story. RGB’s are rectangular, but those straight edges are offset by these really loopy, meandering, and elegant speech tails. It’s just. Such immediate characterization.

Like, even the pose. The way RGB introduces himself by crouching on her drawers like an incredibly dapper gremlin. It creates a similar contrast to his speechbubbles- prim and proper existing simultaneously with fae and kinda ridiculous

So considering we’ve got a fairly detailed picture of roses up on Hero’s wall on the comics opening page I think we can assume this is some type of Important maybe. Just off the top of my head, isn’t the rose Englands national flower? IDK how relevant that is outside of RGB being incredibly, incredibly British

Oh god damnit I just scrolled down to go to the next page and fffFFFUCKING BLUE ROSES ON THE BUTTONS okay. Blue rose symbolism! They don’t exist naturally. You won’t just find one in the wild outdoors, so they represent the impossible, the mysterious and achievable.

Seeing blue roses right off the bat = important story theme probably. Impossible dreams are my first thought. RGB’s seemingly hopeless plan to save a world everyone else has given up to be doomed. Hero’s wish to go the fuck back home please after she’s had her fill of deadly adventure. RGB and Hero are setting out to achieve the impossible, defeat Her, and save the World of Make Believe

Last point for the first page; RGB’s drool. Except it’s not drool, we later learn it’s equivalent to blood, and he bleeds emotions he’s feeling. While recruiting Hero, RGB’s prominent feelings are, unsurprisingly in hindsight, a fair load of sadness but tinged with a dose of cheer. His last Hero failed, and every single one before that, but he’s still daring to have hope, the absolute madman. What he’s actually dripping most though is what looks like curiosity- it may be mixed with a bit of anger, which I wouldn’t begrudge the guy. Angry that he has to start over, again, angry that his world is dying, angry that he’d the only one doing anything about it

Ok but imagine you woke up to find a man crouched on your bedside table smiling this super-wide “TRUST ME!! :)” smile and blood dribbling out of it and welling up between the teeth. Like, I’m laughing, but I’d be screaming

OKAY BUT FINALLY WE’RE PAST THE FIRST PAGE. We get a clear look at Hero’s drawings taped to the wall, and check it- one kinda looks like the Idea they run into a few chapters ahead. The other picture might also be showing the House of Paint? I mean, there’s a sun there so that’s off, but the clouds and steps leading up to Madras’ door look right

And now we get Hero’s speechboxes! They’re circular in contrast to RGB’s boxes, and colored orange. The balloon tails don’t loop-de-loop all over the page like RGBs but they’re not ‘standard’ either- there’s always this little jag to them closer to the text

RGB’s speechbubbles are actually one of the plainest/most conventional in the entire story

Excluding the tails of course. Those never ever take the most direct or efficient path to his face. Yeah, it adds an impression of silliness, but also speaks to the fact that RGB takes creative and weird solutions out of situations. I’ll laugh about the entire Click arc later but like really. REALLY. RGB DID ALL OF THAT

I love how Hero’s first actual words to RGB send him immediately into ?????????????. He keeps up this huge grin for most of The Hook and this is the first time his “I’m your friendly neighborhood TV nothing to see here!!” demeanor gets shaken up

the ladder hurts Hero’s feet, so why does she sleep on the top bunk? The bottom bunk doesn’t have any bedding on it so it’s not like she’s regulated to the top by any kind of sibling dibs

Weird... weird detail to be showing us modmad..... 

“Are you a monster?” “the very worst one” that’s a lotta blue dripping off yer chin there, stop crying

The mom is a character for two (2) seconds and even she gets her own unique speechbox; blue, fuzzy and barely connected, which does a really great job of communicating that she’s basically still asleep without ever having to see her

‘happy boi about to bring newest kidnapping to the sky world’

That’s a Mary Poppins reference, that is. RGB exclaiming ‘spit spot!’ earlier also got be thinking of Poppins

Clouds look so fluffy out of airplane windows, I’m honestly jealous

Doors! Gotta wonder where they all lead. Gotta wonder if they’ll get more use past this outside Hero’s recovery Time

I’ve just spend like 15m trying to figure out what the symbols above the doors are and I THINK it’s alchemy? “libra sign upside down” is luckily an easily searchable term, and that symbol in particular is for gas becoming liquid

I think the door beyond that has the alchemical symbol for gold? I’m not having luck on the others, including the door they actually go through here/its sister door Hero opens after the Elastic Valley fiasco.

RGB are you pissed that you had to tell this kid your name yourself? Are you upset about manners?? She’s like 7 dude cmon have you met a 7 year old. Thinking about it, possibly not, all the confirmed Other Heroes are definitely older- they all come across to me as adults

well, actually, who even knows how old Assok is. They might be the exception

The little ‘peephole’ eye popping open when the right key is close is nice atmospheric detail, but it kinda makes me wonder if there’s a person like. Seeing out of that eye. Whether someone gets a little notification every time one of these doors is opened

It’s the World of Make Believe! Stupendous! Break-taking! Modmad is exceptional at colors and beautiful environments full of personality! Hero’s last chance to turn back is gone!

Hero only being awake for 20 minutes before becoming Instantly Tired = biggest actual mood, my god. Me too sweetie

Except I can’t blame trees. And a sort of magical jet-lag effect. Yo, are sleeping tree’s making you sleepy the same sorta thing where when one person yawns everyone yawns

I just really like how this tail loops around RGB’s physical actual legs. It makes it seem like speech is a tangible thing that interacts with the world and that you could, like, touch or something. all it’s missing is a shadow

God, fuck me. That’s the yellow brick road. God dammit. Son of a bitch.

RGB, pg 14: do not touch me, do not look at me, don’t speak to me, you have tentative permission to breathe

RGB from the Market onwards: carries her multiple times (admittedly, almost always exactly like you shouldn’t), picks her up, swings her around, hugs her when she’s scared of the dark, ‘I Have Longer Legs, Hop On’ piggybacks, protecting her by putting his own bod in harms way, general Manhandling of Child

I kid, I kid, it’s more complex than that. For one, RGB doesn’t want Hero getting hurt cause she’s Important and has Heroing she can’t do if she’s injured. Second, that whole “don’t get attached” thing gets thrown out the window on like day 2

“I’ve only known Hero for a day and a half but if anything happened to her I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself”

RGB is honestly... super bad at not attaching to people. honestly, actually terrible at it

Ooh! Those flowers! I didn’t realize those always happen when Hero’s sleeping. They also look like she’s drawn them herself! That’s honestly… lethally adorable

Fun fact technicolor dream shell snail changes colors every panel

RGB bleeds static? What emotion is that? I dig it, unconscious is an emotion and i feel it in my soul

w...white noise.... god DAMMIT

ey, the tree’s look different in the light of day- all those blurry fairy light ‘leaves’ are gone now. 

!! Hero glows the exact same way when she’s asleep! RGB, however, is not. Tree’s have leaves when they dream, huh

oh god tree’s have LEAVES when they DREAM

...we’ll come back to this thought when we get to the sick sun tree cause that thing is a whole other can of Lore worms

In a different direction, there must be some sort of difference between Tree Dreaming and People Dreaming, because dreaming trees do NOT trigger RGB’s weird stuntman nightmares

these particular trees are also see-through; i can’t remember if they’re all like this throughout the world? will have to pay attention and see

oh- OH. also just made the connection for why trees provide a saf(er) haven- bottled nightmares will very shortly be used to dispel fears. Dreams repel Fears! It’s best to sleep near tree’s because just you dreaming might not be enough to keep things at bay while your rest

And the chapter’s finished off with a new character and new speechbox to go with it! It’s the first to use a different font and text color to our main characters

Honestly though, what is UP with the Butterfly? It’s clearly keeping close tabs on them, and only speaks to Hero when RGB is unconscious or otherwise occupied. It clearly doesn’t wanna be seen by him, which is shady. It shows up like twice? And the other time RGB and Hero don’t even know it’s there and listening. Between that and the Eyes, like… does it have it’s own agenda and interests or is it an agent of Hate? Idk man maybe I’ll pick up on more Butterfly stuff on this readthrough

*notices that the plant it was resting on withers once it flies away* ... that’s no good. especially if that butterfly can do the same to trees

...... ah. it kinda can. Consider, please, Hate’s likely role in the demise of the Sun, and Her confirmed ability to smother them in [-----]

Butterfly’s parting words: “be wise”. Hero’s next and immediate action: doodle RGB’s face

And that’s the Hook! Join me next time when Hero has a fun play date with some new friends everything goes wrong almost instantly.

[osakaso5]

Iori Izumi Chinese Zodiac Rabbit Chat Part 3: Their Usual Antics

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tsumugi: Iori-san, Riku-san, good work! 

Tsumugi: TRIGGER's rehearsal is almost over. I'm sorry you aren't getting much time to rest, but I'd like for you to return here soon! 

Iori: Manager, good work. Right now, Nanase-san and I are on ManamiHill, which is near the shrine. 

Tsumugi: Aah, the famous hill road that connects to the shrine! I hear there are many confectionaries and souvenir shops there, so I thought I'd visit it, too. 

Iori: Nanase-san is enjoying a black sesame soft cream at the moment. We'll head back once he is done eating, so... 

Riku: Good work, manager! Sorry that we just went off to have fun by ourselves. Do you want to eat some, too!? 

Tsumugi: Riku-san, good work today! Uugh, I'd like to try some, but since I'm on a post-New Year diet at the moment, I'll have to refuse >< lol

Tsumugi: I'm glad you're having fun. How did you like Manami Hill? 

Iori: She wants to know how you liked it, Nanase-san. 

Riku: Why are you making me answer when you looked like you were having fun, too! Apparently Iori saw the famous fortune bringing cat of Manami Hill! 

Tsumugi: There's a cat like that!? 

Iori: The clerk of a souvenir shop told me there was a cat with a heart-shaped mark on its back that could bring good fortune! Then, I just happened to see a cat fitting that description, and I just happened to take a picture of it... 

Riku: You just happened to~? It looked like you were trying really hard to find it! lol

Iori: What a noisy person you are! I'll cover that ice cream stained mouth of yours, you know!? 

Riku: Earlier, I covered Iori's mouth and he got mad! lol

Tsumugi: It sounds like you both enjoyed yourselves! lol

Riku: Yeah! Iori's always acting grumpy, but I really do believe he had fun! 

Riku: Hey, Iori. Why don't you try saying you had fun? 

Iori: I don't know why you're looking at me with such a smug face. I won't say it! Stop fussing over me and just finish your ice cream. 

Riku: But it's too cold! My teeth hurt! lol

Tsumugi: 

Choices/outcomes:

1. You don’t need to rush!

Iori: It's better to hurry him up like this. Nanase-san is a slow eater. 

2. Did you stop by at any other shops?

Iori: There was a pickled vegetable shop. There were plenty of things that would have made a delicious addition to rice. Nikaido-san might want to make them into chazuke (1).

3. Didn't you eat any soft cream, Iori-san?

Iori: I'm not strong enough to be eating ice cream when it's this cold. 

Riku: We should all visit Manami Hill sometime! The shopkeeper said that it gets lonely when the New Year's break ends and customers start coming less. 

Tsumugi: That's a good idea! If that's the case, then maybe all of you going there at once won't be too much of a bother ><

Iori: That's true. There's a small park with a nice view up the hill, so why don't you join us, too. 

Riku: I was just there with Iori, and the view was really incredible! It faces the sea! 

Tsumugi: Aaah, how lovely..! I just looked into Manami Hill more, and it seems that park is a power spot (2)! 

Riku: Really!? I wonder what kind of powers it has. 

Tsumugi: It helps calm down obsessions, and cleanses your heart. 

Iori: I see. Perfect for Nanase-san, then. 

Riku: Why? 

Iori: It'll calm down your obsession with Kujo-san, and cleanse that brocon heart of yours. 

Riku: You're so annoying--!! It'll calm down your obsession with Mitsuki and cleanse your brocon heart, too! 

Iori: Please don't refer to Nii-san's and my relationship in such a vulgar way! 

Riku: Right back at you! 

Tsumugi: P-please calm down, you two..! If you're finished eating, you should head back! 

Iori: Manager, I told you it'd be impossible with us. If we dance like this, it'll be an insult towards the god. 

Iori: We can still pair him up with Yotsuba-san... It may be rude towards Osaka-san, but I'll just ask him to pair up with me... 

Tsumugi: P-please wait a second! Even the artist said you should dance with Riku-san... 

Riku: Iori, what do you mean by that! You think I'd be better off with Tamaki!? 

Iori: That's right. I'm sure your dance will be much better that way. 

Riku: Stupid Iori! And here I was, looking forward to pairing up with you... 

Iori: N-Nanase-san

Tsumugi: Iori-san! Let's have a small talk in private! 

Iori: In private... 

Translator’s notes..? 

1) chazuke is a dish that consists of green tea or hot water poured over rice with various toppings

2) power spots are a sort of new age trend where people believe that going to certain spots in nature can have spiritual benefits or improve your luck