#guess where Cyrus began frequenting

[packedwithpackards]

Continuing the story of Plainfield, a "small hill town" in the Berkshire Highlands

Courtesy of the Facebook page of The Old Brick Store in Plainfield. It is captioned on Facebook as: "This may be the oldest picture of the Brick Store. Note that the porch is not there and the windows are 12 over 12 and 15 over 15. The sign in the front refers to the scales that were used to weigh wagon loads of goods. You can also see two openings: the basement window on the right and the entrance to the cellar on the left. Through the door in the barn you would have found the outhouse for the place. I'm guessing this picture was taken c.1870."

After writing my last post, I looked a little more about Plainfield. What I found further amazed me. For one, the Shaw Memorial Library, within Plainfield I found that while it serves a small number of residents, its collection size is over 13,000 volumes and has an annual circulation of more than 7,000! That's not all. I found the websites of a " well-maintained horse boarding facility" in the Plainfield area, called Back Acres Farm, a volunteer church group called Concerts at 7 which "sponsors a summer series of classical music concerts" and a farm which raises "rare heritage breed pigs and cattle on rotating pastures" and a mention of "Ed Stockman's Summit Farm in Plainfield, MA." This is no surprise based on the geographic location of Plainfield in Western Massachusetts, part of the "Hidden Hills":

Plainfield is where the Hidden Hills touch the Berkshires proper. The village sits at the base of West Mountain, with Mt. Greylock towering beyond it to the west. The meeting of the Deerfield and Westfield Rivers serve to give the place a cool and refreshing feel, particularly in the autumn and spring seasons. The 1953 National Book Award winner Ralph Ellison made Plainfield his home, until the novelist's house tragically burned down in 1967. The author claimed that the fire destroyed 300 pages from his follow-up novel to the successful Invisible Man, which was never published in his lifetime.

Interestingly, I know that Ellison wrote Tom Packard, a son of Cyrus Winfield Packard and Clementina Cheney, since Tom was one of the founders of the Plainfield Historical Society and a well-known local personality!

One website writing about Plainfield proves the assertions by Bob Mills in The Packard/Mills Family History about maple sugar trees:

The town of Plainfield, Massachusetts was first settled in 1770. Plainfield is a small hill town in the scenic Berkshire Highlands with 589 residents. This may sound small, but keep in mind that over the past 20 years this little town’s population has doubled. Began as an agricultural community, it now is home to a wider range of people than in the early years, including farmers and trades people, writers and artists, singers and musicians, loggers and welders, teachers and students, builders and homemakers. The landscape in Plainfield is a mix of high sweeping fields and mixed hardwood forests. In abundance are moose, bear, deer and the usual New England wildlife. It’s safe to say that the maple trees in Plainfield far outnumber the residents, and the Fournier Sugarhouse operation has set about 1,500 taps in the trees on and around our location on South Central. There are about two miles of tubing running the sap to the holding tanks along with 300 buckets. We are a little concerned that the moose that seem to frequent our land may end up wandering into our tap lines, but we are hopeful that Wally, our Beagle, will dissuade the moose from coming too close. Many of the trees we tap are more than 200 years old. All in all, they provide us with the best quality sap available.

This brings us to the Packard legacy, if you want to call it that, in that part of Massachusetts. In Northampton there is a "Packard's bar" although it is not owned by a Packard, but a man named Robert "Bob" McGovern. [1] There's also a man named Michael Rice Packard who served as the Highland Ambulance Town Representative for Plainfield from 2015 to 2016 and was on the Plainfield Energy Committee, trying to bring green energy to the town. There was also a representative named Sherman Packard, a bunch of Packards in Franklin County,  Massachusetts (Matthew H. Packard, John Packard, and Ellynn Packard), and an Esther Packard mentioned on a rug in Deerfield. Other articles noted a Debra L. Packard in Florence, MA, a Brandi Packard from Massachusetts, a Larry Packard in the Hilltown region, and an Elizabeth  Packard who works at the Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary in Massachusetts. Recently, the Old Brick Store commented that Mary Bowker Connell stopped by, who was "the granddaughter of Harold Packard, the last person who ran the brick store as a general store. Mary is celebrating her 92nd birthday today!!! She used to come up here in the summer time to stay with her grandparents when she was young. We had a wonderful visit on the porch!" Additionally, there's the Packard-Chilson House in Goshen, photo of a house once owned by Col John Packard, along with mentions of the name Packard on ancestry.com forums, GEDCOM, along with mentions in varied books (here, here, and here). But, most interesting of all was the auction of the former "Old Packard store" as mentioned in an article last year:

Town officials will hold a third auction for a home at 345-347 Main St., Plainfield, in the hopes of finding a successful bidder for the property that was taken by the town in 2015 due to non-payment of taxes…Located across from the Town Hall and the Plainfield Congregational Church, the property was once an important part of everyday life, serving as the town’s general store…in the early 1900s the building was known as “Gurney’s Store” and in the 1950s it was called the “Packard Store.” Many in town still refer to the home as “the old Packard Store.” According to Bronstein, the property has been used as housing for many. [2]

There may be more on the webpages of the Old Brick Store (which notes the passing of Cummington historian Bill Streeter), Hilltown Families, and Plainfield Historical Society, but I believe this is a good start for now.

Until next time!

Notes

[1] Chad Dunn and Bob Dunn, "Tuesday hearing in Northampton to discuss possible happy hour revival," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Sept 24, 2012; Dan Crowley, "Gazebo bra shop owner sells to 2 employees," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Mar 22, 2016; Michael Majchrowicz, "Northampton police, bar owner stand by practices in light of ‘place of last drink’ report," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Jan 6, 2017; Fred Contrada, "Walter Colby of Northampton sues Packard's restaurant, assailants, bouncer, World War II Club following fight outside bar," masslive, Oct 26, 2010; "AREA PROPERTY DEED TRANSFERS," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Feb 12, 2017; Scott  Merzbach, "Report: Vacancies down, sales up in downtown Northampton," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Feb 4, 2017; Lisa Spear, "A church is home for Bob and Kimi McGovern of Hatfield," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Oct 20, 2016; Amanda Drane, "Liquor license goes to Mulino’s as bar owners debate need for more," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Jun 8, 2017. The Feb 12, 2017 article in the Daily Hampshire Gazette says "Tracey McNeill to Michael Rice Packard, Greene St., 8 East Greene St., Easthampton, $228,000." Also see a source talking about newspapers in Massachusetts .

[2] Fran Ryan, "Hilltown Voices: Plainfield hopes the third time is a charm for successful home auction," Daily Hampshire Gazette, Apr 22, 2017.

Note: This was originally posted on November 30, 2018 on the main Packed with Packards WordPress blog (it can also be found on the Wayback Machine here). My research is still ongoing, so some conclusions in this piece may change in the future.

© 2018-2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[askmerriauthor]

Wyrd West AU: The Audacity of The Witch

Nobody's really sure when she first arrived in town. People have their guesses based on the regular arrival of the trains and carriages, but nobody knows for sure. She just has a knack for... being there. When you least expect someone to be present, when you're certain there's no way someone could show up. Places where someone really shouldn't be. The Mayor had quite a startle when they turned from their desk to find The Witch sat patiently across the desk with a land deed in hand for a little corner of the town to call her own. The door to their office had never opened, yet there she was. That bit of property had never been issued a deed... yet there she was.

The Witch quite literally comes and goes as she pleases. It took a while for people to realize she was even a new resident to begin with, given how rarely anyone came across her. One would never encounter her just strolling down the main road, but always somehow catch her in the middle of something that held her attention. One would turn a corner or open a door and there she was. Busy with some task that only seemed to make sense to her. Got to be an Elf, folk figured, because only they could sneak around as such. Someone mentioned it to Old Eddy after he wandered into town; "gotta be rare t'see kin in these parts, huh?" But Ed didn't know what they were talking about - weren't no other Elves around, he reckoned.

Gave him quite a startle on the old secret paths back to his stomping grounds when he rounded a bend and laid eyes on her for the first time, stood ankle-deep amid the dandelion patches. She shouldn't have been there. Couldn't have been. Yet there she was. Tattered old road cloak, goat hide pelt across her shoulders, carrying her boots in one hand to let her bare feet out in the grass. When she spoke to him, his shoulders cramped.

It was only the youth of the town that never seemed to have any trouble with The Witch. Not to say that she went and made a nuisance of herself, but the kids - those who carried no expectations - always found it easy to visit with her when they intended to. The strange mill she built on the edge of the river often had curious eyes peeking through the windows to see what strangeness The Witch was at work on. That was her aim, after all. Not simply to mill about town and startle unsuspecting locals, as some accused her of, but to work on her strange projects. Odd creations and experiments that clinked and bubbled and sparked and sang. Entire rooms filled with books until they nearly burst. Constant deliveries wheeled to her door from literally every train that arrived in town since she first settled down there. Sometimes the kids got up the courage to call out to her, or to carry her deliveries in hopes of a penny for the help. Though never particularly welcoming, nor generous, The Witch always paid in return; a greeting for a greeting, and a fair reward for a debt owed. She wouldn't shower them in doting care like the local inn matron would, but treated them with a manner even more appreciated in a way: simple respect so often denied them by adults. She quickly became a favorite of the local kids since they could always find some chore to do for her in order to make a quick bit of coin, and she never drove them away no matter how long they lingered in her company.

At first folk thought she might've been up to no good. But she mostly kept to herself, so all they could really do was gossip about it. Tell their kids to steer clear. Half the parents could only assume it was some kind of game for the kids to tell stories about The Witch; saying she was kindly to them, that she'd always chat away when they visited, when all the adults knew for sure that The Witch was stoic at best and hardly let a word escape that didn't absolutely need to. It certainly didn't help matters that when the troublesome twins Ajax and Cyrus soon came to town, they very quickly became frequent visitors of her mill themselves. Not personally, of course; they sent their errand boy. It was only natural folk began to figure she was some sort of agent of theirs, sent on ahead to scope the town out for whatever schemes they had in place to spite their younger brother. But nobody dared to raise such an accusation to The Witch's face. Nor did anybody realize just how often either of the Twins would startle to find The Witch waiting for either of them in their offices, outside their quarters, in the hall so agonizingly near to where a hidden room with a token portion of their hoard was kept. How they could only keep stern to save face, yet fume after her departure. She shouldn't have been able to get in without them being aware. She couldn't have.

Yet, there she was.

[teejthedoughboy]

Called It(Tyrus fanfic)

1720 Words

Wrote this at 3am with a friend so excuse any errors. Let us know if you’d like more fics :)

“Is there anything else you wanna ask me?” TJ inquires, his hand inching closer to Cyrus’. He’s so nervous he feels lightheaded.

“Is there anything else you wanna tell me?” Cyrus asks, looking down at TJ’s hand, which was inching closer to his as they spoke.

TJ smiles. “Yeah,” he pauses, not thinking about what could happen next “...is there anything you want to tell me?” Part of him isn't sure Cyrus knows what he’s referring to, and that makes what he just said a lot less terrifying.

“Yes.” Cyrus beams, grabbing the hand that TJ has subconsciously inched closer to him. As soon as he feels the contact, TJ lets out a breath of air. Then he smiles. He wants to just start laughing, he’s so happy. And yes, he’s nervous, and he can tell Cyrus is too, but no emotion can change the way he feels right now, because he’s holding hands with Cyrus Goodman.

“Sooo...now what?” Cyrus grins. TJ can see the joy in his eyes, and he feels like he’s about to explode. This isn’t some misunderstanding, or some game. TJ is holding Cyrus’s hand, and Cyrus is happy about it.

“I don’t know,” TJ trails off, “maybe this?” He says slowly, leaning in slightly towards Cyrus.

“Earth to TJ!” Andi yelled, frantically waving her hand in his face.

TJ looked around him. Right. He was packed into a booth at the Spoon with Andi, Buffy, Jonah and Cyrus. Hanging out with the four of them had sounded a little intimidating, but at least he got to see Cyrus.

“What? Sorry.” He apologized, snapping out of his daze, but quickly falling into another one as he looked over at the brown haired boy sitting across from him.

“It’s your turn! Truth or dare?” Buffy asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Dare I guess?” TJ smiled and raising his eyebrows at Cyrus, who smiled at him a little. TJ’s heart raced from that alone.

“Oooh okay dare. Dare, dare, dare. What’s a good dare?” Andi thought aloud, glancing around the Spoon.

“I GOT ONE!” Jonah chimes in. “Ask for her number.” He exclaims, pointing to the short brunette waitress TJ knew from school.

TJ glanced at Cyrus, the pair growing increasingly tense. In truth, the boys had been an unofficial “thing” since that night on the bench, but nobody else knew. Cyrus swallowed hard, training his eyes on the grimey tabletop.

“What? I-I can’t do that.” TJ stuttered, his eyes darting around the small restaurant.

“Why not? It’s not like you have a girlfriend...right? DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFR-“ Andi blurted, only to be cut off by TJ.

“NO! N-no I don’t...” he paused, looking at Cyrus‘ uncomfortable expression, “have a girlfriend- but...I don’t even know the waitress!”

“Chicken.” Buffy teased, punching TJ on the shoulder.

“Guys he doesn’t want to,” Cyrus said quietly, shooting a sheepish smile towards TJ.

“Yeah, you’re right. I withdraw my dare,” Jonah said, holding his hands up in defeat. “Also I withdraw myself. I should get going to my guitar lesson.” He stood up from the booth suddenly and gathered his belongings, nearly causing Cyrus and Buffy to slide out with him.

TJ smiled, because he shouldn’t be excited about something as dumb as this, but Cyrus was right across from him now.

He kicked Cyrus under the table and saw him turn a slight shade of red. Thelonius, he saw Cyrus mouth, and now it was TJ’s turn to shoot the boy a death stare. Bench or no bench, Cyrus was a great best friend.

The group said their goodbyes to Jonah, and then immediately returned to their intense game of truth or dare.

“Alright Andi, your turn. Truth or dare.” Buffy spoke.

“Honesty is the best policy!” Andi giggled at her cheesy joke.

“Okay. What’s the most awkward thing that’s ever happened to you?” Buffy laughed.

Andi took a minute to consider her answer. “Probably when Cyrus and I both liked Jonah.” She laughed a little.

The small group fell silent, Cyrus going beet red.

TJ stared straight ahead of him, repeating what Andi had just said over and over in his head. Cyrus looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. So it must’ve been true. Cyrus liked Jonah. For all TJ knew, he could still like him. Maybe it was true that Cyrus was gay, but maybe he didnt like TJ at all. Maybe he was just using him to get over Jonah, or to get a boyfriend in front of Jonah.

No, TJ told himself. Cyrus would never do something like that. Besides, he had to be over Jonah by now. Jonah was straight, wasn’t he? But Jonah was so much of a nicer, better person than TJ ever was. TJ imagined Cyrus picking between him and Jonah. For some reason, he couldn’t imagine Cyrus picking him instead. TJ felt sick.

“I take it back, this is the most awkward thing that’s happened to me,” said a voice at the other end of the booth. TJ barely heard Andi as she laughed again, not catching the drift.

Buffy clamped her bottom lip between her teeth, turning towards Andi. “TJ didn’t know…” she muttered at a level that could only be heard by a very flustered looking Andi.

“....ohhhh.” Andi said, her brows knitting together in concern as she noticed Cyrus’s pained expression and realized what she had done. The whole table watched as TJ stood up, his seemingly angered expression going blank.

“TJ,WAIT!” Cyrus called, ignoring his friends’ pleads to stay and running after the boy. TJ, unfortunately, was far more fit than Cyrus, due to his status of basketball team captain. Cyrus stopped frequently to catch his breath, letting himself fall behind TJ.

Cyrus stopped running when Main Street came to a dead end. Where would TJ have gone? To his house, to the school gym, to the park?

Oh, God. Cyrus knew exactly where TJ was. With the little energy he had left, he sprinted towards the park.

TJ sat, head in his hands, on a swing. Tears of anger were rolling down his face, he wasn’t mad at Cyrus or Jonah- how could he be? He was angry at himself for letting someone else break down his walls. He was angry at himself because he could never hate Cyrus, no matter how hard he tried.

TJ felt a presence sit down next to him on the swings. He had known that Cyrus would find him, but he had no idea what he was going to say.

“TJ-“ Cyrus started, his voice full of hurt.

“Just get away from me” TJ muttered, making it impossible for Cyrus to hear what he said.

“What? I didn’t hear you?” Said Cyrus.

“JUST GET AWAY FROM ME, OKAY CYRUS? WHY DO YOU THINK I RAN AWAY FROM YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE?” TJ yelled suddenly, making Cyrus step back a little. He gulped, lifting his head up. “Just leave me alone.”

“You didn't leave me alone. The second time we were here.”

TJ was still fuming, and he was never known to be cooperative when he was angry. “Whatever Cyrus. Play your little game, see if I care. Just leave me out of it,” he said, standing up from the swings and beginning to stomp off.

Cyrus surprised himself when he grabbed onto TJ’s shirt, whirling him around. “Teej - I don’t - oh my God, are you crying?” He let his hand fall and looked straight at TJ. “Teej, what’s going on?”

“It’s not like it matters to you anyway,” TJ finally said, letting out a fake laugh. “I’m not stupid - well, maybe I am, but I know you were just...using me.” TJ choked out, not completely believing the words tumbling from his lips. He let a tear fall down his face.

These words hit Cyrus like daggers. “TJ come here.” Cyrus inhaled, not expecting TJ to turn around. Surprisingly, TJ listened, turning on his heel. Cyrus intertwined his fingers with TJ’s and began to speak, “come on. You know me better than this. Why would I ever hurt you? And Jonah… that was all a long time ago, I don’t have feelings like that towards him anymore. And for the record you are not stupid. Please stop saying that you are.”

TJ stood there wordlessly, for a while, drinking in Cyrus’ words. He finally spoke, “I’m so sorry, cy. You’re right. I do know you better. I know you wouldn’t use me or hurt me. And I’m really sorry if I hurt you. I just-“ he smiled sadly, “I just don’t want to lose this. I care about you so much, underdog.”

“I care about you too, so so much. I think you underestimate how much people care about you, TJ. And I - God, I can’t believe you thought I was using you for Jonah. Do you know how-” Cyrus laughed,”-how crazy I am about you?”

TJ smiled a little.

“No, seriously! You’re always so nice to me, and my friends - even Buffy now. You put up with their impromptu truth or dare sessions, and Buffy and Andi’s comments about everything, and you’re so funny too. You know, you’re so cute when you smile and- oh” Cyrus stopped, realizing he was rambling, and blushed a little. “I’ve liked you for months, Teej, much more than anything I ever felt for Jonah. I’m just so glad I have you.”

TJ shut his eyes closed till he saw red, and he smiled and smiled. “I’m so glad I have you, Cyrus,” he said.

“Now, do you think we could fit two people on a swing?”

Back at The Spoon Buffy was trying, but failing, to comfort Andi.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE I DID THAT! I DIDN'T REALIZE - OH GOD CYRUS IS GONNA HATE ME!” Andi wailed, facepalming.

“Just calm down!” Buffy urged, looking out the window searching for any sign of either TJ or Cyrus. She was surprised to see the boys walking together, injured from a very bad, gay idea. She smiled faintly. “Hey Andi?” She called.

“Yeah?” Andi asked, turning her head to see what her friend was gaping at.

“I think they’re going to be just fine,” Buffy laughed, gazing at Andi’s awestruck expression.

“Called it.” Andi smirked.

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

the inexhaustible variety of life

summary: Cyrus Goodman has isolated himself from the rest of his prep school, but will an easygoing transfer student manage to crack his shell?

pairing: tyrus

word count of chapter: 983 (we back under a thousand laid ease, sorry)

first chapter, previous chapter, next chapter

—————————

chapter 5: distance

At first it was just a game or two that he missed. He didn’t go frequently anyways, so it wasn’t like TJ noticed. But then, it was their Saturdays, where Cyrus would suddenly have a lot of work to get done and close the door in his face. Over the course of two and a half months, it had gotten to the point where their time together dwindled down so much that TJ felt awkward even asking to hang out. Cyrus wouldn’t talk to him unless he said something first, and it was basically just like when they’d first met and barely knew each other.

TJ didn’t understand why it felt like such a massive hole in his life was cut out. Yeah, Cyrus was a good friend of his, but they’d only known each other for a few months. He’d dealt with life before he was in it, why couldn’t he do that after he was basically gone?

“Guy troubles?” Amber said, grabbing the chair across from him while he was moping at a table in the library. “Can’t relate.”

“We get it, you’re a lesbian,” TJ teased halfheartedly.

Amber furrowed her eyebrows sympathetically. “Damn, can’t even tease me correctly? Talking about my love life can wait, tell me what’s wrong.”

TJ leaned his head back, sighing and rubbing his eyes. “I’m pretty positive Cyrus is avoiding me. We’ve been talking less and less lately, and we haven’t had one of our book rant sessions in like, three weeks.”

Amber put a hand on his shoulder. “That really sucks, I know how much you like him.”

“As a friend.”

“Sure.”

“Would you stop with that?” TJ said, irritated, sitting back up in his chair.

Amber shrugged. “If you have to deny it without being prompted, it’s probably true. That’s the extent of my teasing, okay?” She sighed, then continued, “Anyway, I know you saw the good in him and everything, but I’ve known him for the past five years, and he’s always been a major asshole. He’s never really talked to many people, unless he’s shoving them out of his way. He’s just like that, Teej.”

“He wasn’t like that with me.”

Amber didn’t know what else to do except rub circles into his shoulder to console him. “I know.”

•••

TJ knew how Cyrus used to be. He’d heard it from Amber a million times. But, like he said, he was never like that with him. So naturally, TJ came to the conclusion that something had to be wrong.

Luckily, Tj reached this conclusion on a Saturday, and the more he kept thinking about it, the more he worked himself up to confront Cyrus about it. Okay, maybe not confront, but you get the picture.

He walks over to Cyrus’ dorm and moves to knock on the door, but it’s already creaked open a bit, so he quietly steps in. And, oh, what he sees is one of the last things he wanted to see.

Cyrus was, to put it nicely, a wreck. His hair was matted and sticking up in twenty different directions, he was wrapped in at least three different blankets, and his face was shiny and red from crying. He looked the most defeated TJ had ever seen him, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he’d went over to Cyrus’ dorm.

“Cy, holy shit, are you okay?”

Cyrus looked up to him as if he were a deer stuck in headlights, caught red handed with the ability to have an emotion that wasn’t anger. His eyes glazed over, as if you could see his walls coming back up, deadpanning, “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to cry, and probably not for the first time today.”

Cyrus gritted through his teeth, “Everything is fine.”

TJ gestured to Cyrus, “Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it. What’s going on? You can tell me anything, Cyrus.”

That seemed to be the one thing that broke him, as he snapped, “I said, everything’s fucking fine, TJ! Get the fuck out of my dorm!”

TJ took a step back, a frightened look on his face. “Okay, sorry, I’ll just get out of your hair, I guess.”

And as TJ shut the door, Cyrus watched the one person who was still there for him walk out of his life.

He wasn’t the only one crying that day.

•••

Cyrus slammed his locker door shut, frustrated, after watching TJ walk away toward his next class. He was way too fucking whipped for this.

“Hey, Goodman.”

And suddenly, his mood dropped even more.

With an eye roll, he whipped around and deadpanned, “What do you want, Reed?”

“Saw you talking to Kippen there,” Read stated, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Cyrus crossed his arms. “Yeah, and? He asked me about the English assignment due tomorrow, that’s it.” No one can know, he thought, repeating the mantra for the millionth time.

“That’s odd, I can’t remember the last time you were willing to help someone out,” Reed retorted, leaning onto the lockers.

Cyrus feigned nonchalance, “He kept pestering me, ‘s all.”

“Really? That’s not what it looked like when he went to your dorm practically every weekend.”

Shit. “What are you talking about?”

Reed smirked. “You’re forgetting I know you, Goodman. Better than anyone else. You haven’t talked to anyone since you stopped talking to me. I bet, you talk to him because you have a crush on him, because you’re a fucking twink.”

Cyrus shoved passed him, trying to his misty eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah?” Reed yelled down the hallway. “Others are catching on, Goodman, you’re not slick!”

Cyrus simply flipped him off and began speedily walking to his dorm, wiping the stray tears off his face that dared to fall.

Everything was going wrong, and it was only going to get worse.

[thirteen-beaxhes]

Delayed - Chapter 1: All the Roads

Summary:  "All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go. But the night hadn’t even begun yet." High school ended 6 years ago, and with it, so did the friendship between Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Jonah, TJ and Amber. But now their flight is delayed and they are stuck in a hotel together for the night. Not much can change in one night, though. Can it?

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~

“This sucks,” Buffy groaned down to phone to Marty, who laughed pleasantly in amusement.

“It’s okay Buffy, just a flight delay. It’ll let up,” he said reassuringly.

“No, the flight got cancelled! I have to stay overnight in this hotel they are gonna put up all the people in some hotel,” Buffy said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll only be able to reach by tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I’m sure if you call up the company, they will be willing to understand.”

“I guess. It’s just so inconvenient.”

“True. But hey, maybe you’ll get some sleep at this hotel now!” Marty said, trying to get Buffy to lighten up. She appreciated his efforts, letting a small smile form on her face.

“I love you, Marty. The bus is gonna reach in some time,” Buffy said.

“I love you too, Buffy. Get some rest, okay?” Marty said, before Buffy ended the call. She looked around her at the other passengers doomed to her fate. Nothing better than being stuck in a situation with people you don’t know, and will never see again. She sighed and opened her phone, checking her social media. Scrolling through a bit, she landed on a picture of her and Marty from back in high school.

High school. Basketball, milkshakes, the Good Hair Crew. Andi and Cyrus. God, it had been so long. High school friends drift apart, but never had they thought back then that it would happen to them. But happen it did. Buffy sighed, scrolling past the picture, pushing away the memories. Dwelling did no good. Buffy was positive that if her friends saw her today, they wouldn’t recognise the person she had become. And a part of her knew she wouldn’t recognise them either. Shutting off her phone, Buffy leaned against the seat, looking out the window as the announcement for the arrival of the bus rang through the air.

At least the night would pass by quick.

*

Andi huffed as she threw down her duffel bag and sank into the shitty airport seat as she waited for more information about the transport to the hotel. She hadn’t had any intention of spending her night there, but cancelled flights called for desperate measures. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, unable to use her phone because it decided it was a good time to conk off. She rummaged through the meagre collection of magazines on the stand next to the seats, and settled for a travel magazine. She opened it and began to read from a random page, wanting only to pass the time. Beads of sweat were already forming on the back of her neck. Despite the air conditioning being on full. Maybe a leather jacket was not the best choice.

Andi busied herself in reading about the ‘5 Restaurants You Have to Try in Prague’, turning the pages lazily, every movement betraying disinterest. At one point, she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned around to see a guy around her age staring at her intently. With that look in his eyes. She knew that look. She had seen that look.

She despised that look.

“The fuck you looking at?” she asked, making a dismissing motion with her hand as she raised her eyebrows at the guy.  He just smirked at her.

“Can’t a guy just look?” he said in that voice that exuded faux innocence. It sounded like nails on chalkboards to Andi’s ears.

“Well then, can’t I just connect my fist to your nose?” she asked, smiling at him, her eyes fiery. That got him to look away grumbling, not before he whispered, “Bitch,” under his breath.

Andi rolled her eyes and looked back at the magazine, not before shooting looks at all the people who were staring at her after that incident. “What are you watching? Nothing to see here,” she said, moving her hands as if she were shooing them away.

She hadn’t always been like this, so snappy and angry. She had grown up a sweet, albeit dramatic girl. She had a weird but perfect life all the way till high school, with perfect friends and perfect relationships. But life is a bitch.

So you have to be a bitch to survive.

*

Cyrus: sorry mom looks like itll be tomorrow when i get a flight

Mom: oh dear okay cyrus. take care of yourself

Mom: see you tomorrow :)

Cyrus sighed and put his phone in his pocket, cursing the building headache that was making its presence very much known. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the pain. It was then he really regretted not carrying aspiring with him. Ignoring his headache, he looked around observing all the people sitting there waiting for the bus to the hotel. Diagonally across from him was a girl with brown hair just above shoulder length in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched on her head. She was flipping through a travel magazine rather disinterestedly. She had just told off a guy for staring at her, earning some passing comments about her being ‘rude’, but Cyrus was with the girl on this one. Though he didn’t need to voice his support, she had the situation very much under her control.

For some reason, as he caught glimpses of her, Cyrus couldn’t shake the thought that she looked incredibly familiar. He had the feeling that he knew this girl from somewhere, from a distant point in his life. But he couldn’t place her.

He shook his head slightly. It was probably just a passing similarity. He opened his phone for a distraction, noticing an Instagram notification.

cygoodman, see your post from 6 years ago today

Curious, he clicked on the notification and it took him all the way back to senior year of high school, to baby taters and milkshakes. To the Good Hair Crew.

To TJ.

The picture wasn’t spectacular, it was just a slightly shaky selfie taken by Andi, with him, Buffy, Jonah, Marty, Amber. And TJ. Cyrus’ boyfriend. Well, ‘then’ boyfriend.

The picture made Cyrus’ breath catch in his throat, a wistful smile spreading across his face. It had been over 4 years since he had spoken to anyone in that picture. 5 years since he and TJ had practically broken up. 6 years since they left high school.

6 years since they hammered the last nail into the coffin of their childhood friendship.

High school and childhood friendships don’t always last, they all knew that. It came to no one’s surprise when the messages and video calls grew less frequent, they met up less and less. And soon enough, that was it. There was no great fight, no blowout. It just faded with time. Still, Cyrus couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for his friends. And for TJ.

TJ Kippen waltzing into his life in middle school was the single most unexpected thing to have ever happened to Cyrus. He came in a cold jock, but it didn’t take Cyrus long to see through the cracks to see the soft side, the kind and caring side. With TJ, Cyrus felt like he could do anything, which was saying a lot. With TJ, nothing was impossible. TJ burned bright like the sun, and for some reason, he saw the moon in Cyrus. But of course, high school ends, and so do high school sweethearts. In the end, it wasn’t an explosion that ended them. It was radio silence. But a part of Cyrus missed him deeply. It was probably why he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since TJ, settling only for the casual and running at the first sign of more.

Where could they all be? Probably further away than he could imagine.

*

“Okay I kinda wish now we didn’t meet up and decide to get this flight together,” TJ groaned as he started to gather his things from around the seat.

Amber scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please, TJ. You’re grateful I’m here with you, or else you wouldn’t know anyone.”

TJ simply looked away, knowing very well that Amber was right. They were both heading back to Shadyside to meet their parents, and TJ was both dreading and looking forward to it. On one hand, it had been 5 years since he had last been in Shadyside, so it would be good to see the place where he had grown up. But on the other hand, he was dreading his mother pestering him about his non-existent love life. He had only been in 2 real relationships, and only one of them was even worth remembering. But remembering was painful. How fitting that the place he was going back to was also the place that held the memories of that relationship at every corner.

Cyrus Goodman was, and always had been, an enigma to TJ Kippen. He had swung into his life, almost literally, with his soft encouraging smiles and reassuring words, making TJ feel like maybe, letting his guard down wouldn’t mean the monsters would get to him faster. Cyrus had shaken him to the core in the best way possible, and God alone knows how someone as incredible as him could ever have fallen for someone like TJ. Their ups and downs had only made them stronger, but eventually, some downs are just too hard to come back from. College means drifting apart, it means leaving those people behind. It was practically mutual, but it didn’t mean that the memories didn’t come with that mixture of warmth and a sting.

“Yo, TJ,” Amber said, snapping her fingers in front of TJ’s face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “We’re leaving now.”

TJ nodded, taking his bags and following Amber out of the gate to the bus.

Probably better to leave the memories back in Shadyside so he could finally truly move on.

*

Emily: I miss you

Emily: maybe we made a mistake

Amber didn’t need to open her phone to read the messages again. They were burned into the back of her mind. With every step she took forward, the words inched closer to her heart. It didn’t help that just above those messages were the ones where Emily was telling her, ‘I just don’t feel the same way anymore,’ and, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’.

Bullshit. It was always her.

Amber couldn’t believe that Emily even had the balls to send her a message saying she missed her. After she had brutally ripped her heart out and stepped on it with her signature Converse sneakers. That had been a month ago, and it took everything in Amber to try and piece herself back together. That was also part of the reason she was content in returning to Shadyside for a while. She needed a break, and going home seemed the best option. She needed to find herself again. As dramatic as that sounded.

TJ, who was walking next to her, purposely bumped into her, forcing her to smack him upside the head. But she was glad he was there. She didn’t know if she could handle the memories of going home alone.

As she loaded her luggage into the bus, she let her mind wander to Emily. Was it a surprise she liked her? Not at all. She was exactly her type. Brown-haired, sweet and sunshiney personality, and proficient at crafts. There had been one person before her, but that was just a crush, and left at that.

Andi Mack.

Amber smiled to herself, thinking about Andi. Her bracelets, her dressing style, her smile, her laugh. While Amber had crushed on her from afar, that didn’t erase the fact that Andi had become a really good friend of hers. She had helped her change from being the stereotypical mean girl, to being a girl who was tough but let people in. Amber wanted nothing more than to pick up her phone and talk to Andi, reminisce on the old times. But that wasn’t going to happen. They had parted ways. Life had taken them on different paths.

Paths that would never intersect.

*

Jonah Beck got onto the bus, carefully clutching his guitar close to him. His suitcase had been stowed away, and he stared out of the window blankly. His hands were shaking slightly, the flight cancellation putting his on the edge. His breaths were growing incredibly unsteady, and he couldn’t let it get out of control. He pulled on the sleeves of his jacket, scratching himself in the process. Ultimately, opened his wallet and pulled out a highly crumpled picture from it, and smoothed it out, the sight of it immediately calming him down.

It was a Polaroid he, Cyrus, Andi and Buffy had taken the last day of high school. Even though he no longer spoke to them, and their paths had diverged long ago, that picture was one of the only things that truly made Jonah feel at ease. He looked at it so often that the creases were growing at an alarming rate. But he didn’t care. It went with him wherever he would go.

Loosely clutching onto the picture, he looked out the window as the bus moved, thinking about their whole friend group. Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Amber, TJ, Marty. Where were they? What were they doing? He knew they would probably be far, far away, living their perfect lives. He smiled to himself, just wishing they all also missed high school, even if it was just for a second. He leaned against the window, closing his eyes, falling into a restless sleep until the bus reached the hotel.

*

As the evening progressed slowly into night, Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, Amber and Jonah sat in the bus to the hotel, all starting out thinking about their broken, messed up, confused lives. And all of their trains of thoughts leading to the same station. Them in high school.

All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately, but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go.

But the night hadn’t even begun yet.

~~~~~~~~

So I got this idea like a while ago, and I'm finally writing it! This is another multi-chapter, so let's do this kids.

HMU if you wanna be tagged in future updates! It may take time to update, with the au and stuff.

[unladylikc]

｢ therry-kins... ｣

     “Why are you asking?” His voice is quiet but harsh in the dim light of the inn, with his gaze fixed on the mug positioned in front of his calloused, ugly palms, still untouched despite some time having passed since they had come down to get a bite to eat. Their conversations were typically lighthearted at best, filled with little more than sarcastic or meaningless banter and that had made him comfortable around Vivian because she rarely, if ever, brought up anything serious and, even if she did, it was easy enough for the two of them to veer the conversation into something more suitable or to dodge the subject without further question. While it was comfortable, to a certain extent, it was awkward. They were friends, but what did he truly know about her? And what did she know about him? Nothing. He was a thief. She was a writer. Was there anything else they actually needed to know about one another? In his opinion, no, because being a perfect stranger was something he had grown accustomed to and preferred.  

      He found himself wishing he had had more to drink before the subject had come up. It would have made it so much easier to hear the word ‘love’ and not cringe. Even now, the topic still made his blood boil and his hands feel cold while that old scar etched into the flesh across his sightless eye throbbed at every mention of the word. Truth be told, even his stomach felt ill at the very idea of having been in love and falling in love again, to the point where it made his head hurt and his chest twist in agony. When he had glared back at the glistening light of the sun as it beat down upon what might as well have been his battered corpse, he had made a promise to himself that day - he would never love or trust someone again and he intended to take that promise to the grave with him (still did).  

        “It’s pointless. Who needs love anyway?” He spat, glaring at the bubbly liquid in his cup before yanking it upwards and nearly downing the entire thing in one sip. While he went to pubs frequently to gather information and was, therefore, a casual drinker, he didn’t truly enjoy it. And right now, the only reason he was trying to drink himself under the table was to forget about this entire conversation and the awful memories it brought up. Unfortunately, while his tolerance paled in comparison to Cyrus’s, it was still nothing to sneeze at. With a frown, he simply rubbed at his temples in an attempt to chase off the budding headache before his fingers slipped beneath silver locks to press his palm against his throbbing eye. The wound would never truly heal. Physically, yes, it had healed ages ago, but mentally, that scar would always still be there, as would the pain that nagged him and whispered coarse, false praise, and compassion into his ears late at night when no one else was around to hear him screaming.  

        With his forehead resting against his palm, he didn’t bother to look up at Vivian. She had told him of her own past, so wasn’t it fair for him to return the favor - no matter how ugly his own had been? “I loved someone once. It was my biggest mistake. I’ll never love someone again.” Staring at the empty cup, a sigh managed to slither from his soar, dry throat. He was too sober for this. Pushing himself up onto his feet, he grabbed the mug and tossed it back over to the counter before shoving his chair in with the worn down edge of his boot. “Forget it. Just forget I said anything.” With that, he turned on his heels to escape to the safety of his room, not ever bothering to toss a glance back over his shoulder in her direction.

        Even that was enough to make him feel like he was suffocating. He hadn’t even said his name let alone anything more, but his head was already underwater and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come back up for air again. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he trudged up the stairs to avoid the merriment of the other customers and tune out their mundane conversations. Tonight, he didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t want to hear anything at all. He just wanted to lock himself in some dreary room with nothing that reminded him that the only home he had ever known had been on the road with that man, and nothing he could ever do and anywhere he could ever go would ever feel like home again. Home was something that had been robbed from him; therefore, he was a stranger in his own body.

     In the end, curiosity had gotten the better of Vivian. Why, truth be told, she couldn’t help attempting to confirm whether or not he had loved someone at some point. Of course, though she hadn’t recently noticed it up until now, something about that pained, far off look in Therion’s eye began bothering her, the more she realizes it reminded her a lot like the way her own gaze appeared whenever she wasn’t repulsed enough to glance at her unkempt reflection through a polished mirror; still, Vivian couldn’t bring herself to say anything else when he begins responding back with irritation.

     Rather than bother to remedy the situation, however, an automatic wince would emerge onto her features. Try as she might, mustering up the words to say she cared or  HARBORED  suspicions they were similar became outright impossible, for they sooner died on her tongue, once she senses the guilt accumulating, little by little. Oh, what was wrong with her? What was she trying to accomplish here by forcing Therion to recall such painful memories? Either way, Vivian couldn’t find herself disagreeing, because when it came down it, she could relate to each and every negative sentiment regarding love.

     “ Therry-kins... ” came her eventual murmur, accompanying the darkened gloom falling upon her bespectacled visage. At the same time, Vivian couldn’t bring herself to speak any further, so she could only watch on with a conflicted grimace as he abruptly arose and fled before the night came to an undeniable end. Shortly thereafter, she then found herself sitting there for the longest time while poring over what she intended to tell him, when next they spoke. Regardless, she couldn’t stay away from him for long, and as if drawn like a moth to a flame, Vivian found her feet dragging  ALONG  the wooden floor panels and the wobbly staircase until she reaches his room. Once there, she turns and slides down against it with knees propped up to her chest.

    “ Forgive me. You know, ” Vivian sighs. “ I loved someone too... which ended up blowing up in my face when I figured out he pretended to like me and led me on, just so he could steal my ideas. Though he didn’t necessarily put a knife to my back, it still hurt... cause this was the first man that ever treated me with kindness or respect. Heck, thinking back, I fantasized about marrying him so much, I was even willing to put on a wedding dress for him one day against my manly wishes. Pathetic, huh? The truth is, I never was the same since. With my sense of self worth practically diminished, I also swore to myself I’ll never fall for anyone again. Even now, I can hear him mocking me in my dreams for letting myself believe he loved me back and sometimes, I worry that if the others keep being nice to me, I’ll no  LONGER  have less than platonic feelings for them. ”

     Mere moments later, she pauses, allowing her shoulders to slump forward. “ ...Luckily, that isn’t the case yet. I guess the reason I asked was because... I thought you might be able to relate. Call it a macho gal’s intuition, but I somehow couldn’t help getting the same vibes from you. ”

@moon--wake / continued from here ;;

[frisbee-camp]

What’s Hidden Can Be Found|Tyrus Summer Camp AU

AO3 link/Wattpad link

Camp Lowland sleepaway camp is an hour drive from Shadyside, where tensions and disagreements have been left for time to mend. But what will Tj and Cyrus do when the past comes chasing after them? Follow the Good Hair Crew and The Good Boys through their annual two-month stay in the wilderness where nature does not care for petty arguments and time has only worsened their situation.

Chapter 2: Downhill

"I knew that would work!" Buffy had yelled in joy at Cyrus. Cyrus thought his lungs were running out of air, or the trees had stopped producing oxygen, or he was just dying in general while hiking back to his temporary home in the Willow cabin. The day hadn't ended, and all the campers were free to explore the different camping activities, but Cyrus just wanted to sit somewhere without bugs threatening his life wherever he stepped and competitions threatening his morals.

After Buffy had won the flag for Willow and Kira had won the flag for Oak (Iris' cabin). The winning teams were given special bandanas and had been awarded an extra 15 points for winning the first CC. This meant that Cyrus had to go around sporting a horrendously yellow bandana around his arm. Buffy and Iris were given the traditional wreaths to put on their cabins doors.  Since Willow's color was yellow, they were given a wealth with yellow flowers and golden colored pinecones. Iris was given one with herbs like dill and mint that would dry and make the Oak cabin smell delicious. It was a nice commencement gesture, a sort of "let the games begin" sort of tradition but Cyrus just wished they had washed the bandanas maybe ten more times before giving them to the campers.

Finally, after having to quickly congratulate Buffy and fidget while watching her place the wreath on the door, Cyrus was alone. It felt like he could breathe for the first time since CC1 began. The other campers weren't too fond of staying indoors during the daytime, but Cyrus liked it because there was never anyone there. The entire day was exhausting, from finding out that he would be the flag to having to talk to TJ while he was glistening in the willow trees fuzzy light...he sighed. Cyrus sat on the rocking chair in the common room and placed his head in his hands. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think rationally.

"This is fine," Cyrus whispered to himself as he sat back and lightly breathed out, "You're okay Cyrus." He rocked the chair while looking out the big cabin windows that looked out into the forest, "It's just the woods, no one has been killed in the forest recently so the odds are fine and it's just TJ. It's fine. It's all in the past. Just move-"

"I agree," said Andi.

"Oh," Cyrus said with a start, "Andi don't sneak up on me like that!"

Andi gave a wide laugh, "Cyrus," she said, "this is summer camp. That means you gotta enjoy summer. The outside. Outdoors. Fresh air. Ever heard of it?"

Cyrus pouted. He wanted to stay inside where the worms couldn't get him.

"Come on old man, you can rock in that chair when you're old and wrinkly," Andi said as she grabbed him by the hand. She noticed Cyrus avoiding her eyes, "hey," she said a little softer, "did something happen? We won remember?"

Cyrus gave his signature crumpled furrowed brow look and said, "TJ."

"He didn't do anything to you did he?" Andi immediately looked at Cyrus' face for signs of injury. All she found was his pouty face.

"No, he just-" Cyrus groaned, "he's just around." Cyrus rocked back in his chair and looked into the green unknown of the pine trees. Some days he was fine when he thought about TJ and other times he just annoyed him that he was always thinking about him which would make him think TJ was more annoying than he actually was which also annoyed him which made him think he was being ridiculous which annoyed him even more.

"Yeah yeah pouty boy come on let's get your mind off of him, as if that's even possible," Andi then dragged him up out of his chair and as soon as Cyrus stood up he slumped against her like a ton of rocks, "I seriously cannot carry you, Cy," she laughed, " come on we're getting you out of your weird funk."

Through the years Andi had made the arts and crafts room her bitch, for lack of a better word. She was everywhere in that room. Everywhere. As in she had self-portraits and intricate bracelets and sculptures of something Cyrus thought was deep but couldn't really make out the meaning of yet. Cyrus had tried to find something he was interested in since he started high school but he was really only good at following around his friends with hobbies. Andi had her art and Buffy had her sports, and Cyrus had them. It pained him to think his college resume may be a little sparse but his life had been a little sparse lately.

What Cyrus had found out about following his friends around was that he actually wasn't half bad at making clay pottery. He just didn't know if he was actually good or if everyone else around him was just horrible, but he was actually proud of his little bowls. Plus the spinning clay always calmed him down a bit.

Buffy was off celebrating with the other cabin members so Andi and Cyrus were alone in the arts and crafts room.

After many painted mugs and various necklaces made by Andi, she said without looking up, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope," Cyrus said quickly.

The next couple of weeks were painless. Cyrus had found a routine of fiddling in the art room with Andi, watching Buffy play sports with Marty, and avoiding one on one conversation with TJ at all costs. But most of the time he and his friends would go around to the different camp stations and fail at things like archery while Buffy got extra points for their cabin.

Cyrus and his friends were sitting in a circle sharing a bag of skittles they'd gotten from the Camp Store one calm and windy afternoon. Cyrus was finally getting comfortable with always being in contact with dirt. He even laid on it from time to time. He liked looking at the clouds float by but if he looked up for too long he would find himself thinking about Earth and then other planets like Mars and then the galaxy and everything beyond that and time and light and darkness so he'd sit up and tune back into his friend's conversations.

"So," Buffy said, "CC3 is tomorrow and guess what we chose?!" Buffy said sparkling. Cyrus wished he could be this excited about this. He honestly just missed paved roads. He didn't even remember what the last CC was, maybe it was a swimming contest?

"Canoe racing!" Buffy had exclaimed without waiting for her friends to respond.

"Awww!" Andi said, "Amber loves canoe racing. Remember when we all raced together?" Andi had a very wide happy grin on her face, she must've been remembering something that had happened between her and Amber.

"Yeah," Buffy was amused, "and half of us almost drowned," Cyrus said as he popped the last skittle in his mouth.

"Maybe," Buffy said as she mindlessly picked at the grass, "but Redwood doesn't know that we've been practicing."

"Who? You and the basketball team?" Andi said perking up. Andi and Cyrus had been so busy wandering and failing at activities that they hadn't noticed any CC preparations from Buffy. They appreciated that Buffy didn't include them in making strategies, they did last year and it caused more harm than good.

"Yeah, don't tell but we dragged an old canoe into the woods and have been practicing," Buffy said proudly.

"Wow," was all that Andi and Cyrus could tell her.

Early the next day was CC3: Canoe Racing. Cyrus almost cried as he had to put on that ugly yellow bandana around his arm for the third time. He walked over to the lake with his entire cabin. Since the lake was behind Redwood, they usually had first dibs when it came to canoes. The lake was smooth today, with the morning mist just now evaporating and the ducks floating around the sides. It was a good-sized lake with a dock extending north. Redwoods were already huddled and getting a pep talk by TJ. TJ, Cyrus thought and sighed longingly. He forced himself to look away from him. He didn't have his glasses on today and was looking very tall and in charge. He could tell his cabin to do anything he wanted and they would.

"Okay guys," Buffy said to the Willows, "this is it. We know what to do okay? So I'm not going to scare you with an intimidating speech." She had her arms crossed and had her cabin leader bandana lose around her neck. "Just stay focussed and row. And really put your whole weight into it. If you're competing today come on and get ready." Only six of them would row the one Willow canoe while the rest of them cheered from the bleachers.

Cyrus obviously didn't even think about signing up and neither had Andi who said she was too short to keep up with them, so they sat in the bleachers and shared yellow cotton candy. The announcer Counselor Moose, with the red beard that hid way too much of his face, announced the rules over a megaphone while the rowers got into position at the starting line.

It was quiet as Moose said "Get ready," the crowd was sitting on the edge of the hard metal, "Set," everyone inhaled and Cyrus saw TJ turn. Cyrus thought that he was giving some last-minute advice to his team, but he actually turned towards the bleachers and gave Cyrus a very slight smile and wave, Cyrus returned the favor timidly. "GO!" Moose yelled and the entire bleachers erupted into a collective yell. Cyrus sat there in a stunned grin at the thought that TJ remembered him at last minute. The interaction actually put the Redwood cabin an entire two feet behind the rest of the teams. Andi had to yell their cabin cheer at Cyrus to get him out of his dreamlike phase. Cyrus figured that she hadn't noticed the interaction.

TJ's hair rhythmically bobbed with his movements. He had gotten a lot taller since he was getting older and playing basketball so frequently now. Cyrus couldn't help but notice his jawline being reflected in the sunlight, his lean muscle leading his team members, his poise and strength. Cyrus remembered when he had helped him get that muffin from the cafeteria so long ago, that felt like centuries.

TJ had really remembered him. Cyrus chanted the Willow cabin cheer but secretly hoped Redwood would win.

And they did, only by a couple of inches but they won fair and square. Same with Aspen. Cyrus pretended to be sad for Buffy's sake, but he and Andi were basically jumping up and down on the bleachers.

Cyrus spent the next few days in his same routine but now with a smile, he could only attribute to TJ.

On Monday Cyrus was scheduled, yes scheduled to go on a nature hike with campers from all four cabins. Some sort of mandatory bonding activity. Cyrus almost cried when he saw the posting. Every camper had one scheduled camp-wide activity every week, last week it was fire building with Amber. But this? Hiking. Hiking. He would have rather jumped into the tiny fire he had built with Amber last week.

When he got to the meeting spot, the willow tree not far behind his cabin, he found a very strange group of people. They were being led by counselor Luke from Redwood and a couple of other counselors Cyrus didn't know the name of, Andi (thank God), Gus, Walker, some kids from the grade below them and TJ who was laughing with Luke. TJ saw him and gave him a quick smile. Normally Cyrus would have avoided him at all costs, but something was telling him that it wouldn't be that bad. He did acknowledge him before the race and everything.

The hike was on the Air & Water trail, one that went all the way up to the top of the valley and then back down to the river by Aspen. But that was the least of Cyrus' worries. His first was trying not to die from heat exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. He was already trailing behind the others five minutes in. He really did not know if he would survive this Oddessy.

He, Andi, and Walker had formed their own little walking group, talking between stops made by Luke who always felt like pointing out cool trees. Walker and Andi had become friends ever since she started going to art school, and Walker was nice enough to talk to but Cyrus couldn't stop looking at the back of TJ's head. Tj had of course been able to keep up with Luke who Cyrus had a feeling could have gone a lot faster but couldn't risk having Cyrus trail so far behind.

"Now guys look at this tree, you see how..." Luke had stopped to inspect a wide light-colored tree no one else cared about.

"Hey," TJ said as he came up next to him, "fascinating stuff huh?" he joked.

Cyrus laughed a bit. Some other campers turned to look at him. He looked down. "Yeah," he had to lean into TJ so the others wouldn't hear them, "totally man" he mocked Luke. TJ cracked a smile too.

TJ walked next to him while they hiked, they laughed and chatted and poked fun at Luke. It was nice, calming, familiar. He hadn't felt this familiarity in over a year. He missed it but reminded himself of why he had to miss it. Nonetheless, Cyrus allowed himself this moment, this grueling sweaty stinky moment to feel like old times.

"If you die here," Tj said, "Can I have your laptop?"

"If I die here," Cyrus retorted, "and if you carry me back to camp, then you can share my laptop with Andi." He smiled. Actually smiled. Cyrus thought he would float away from happiness at any moment.

Cyrus felt brave as they stood at the top of the valley. He could see camp down below and the surrounding miles of woods. He had gotten to the top without needed someone to carry him. The sky was so blue, so so blue. He hadn't noticed how nice nature could really be.

"Hard part's over," Tj said, "it's all downhill from here."

And as they stood on the top of that mountain, the wind blowing away their teenage smell, Cyrus breathed in and closed his eyes. He thought of all the stresses he'd have to face one day. He thought about everything he was avoiding, the homework, the studying, the tests, college. He breathed out and let it go. He opened his eyes and Tj was looking down at him with a look he was so familiar with, the soft one that was reserved for late-night conversations.

Cyrus looked back at him and quietly asked, "Did you wave at me during CC3?"

"Yeah," Tj said without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Because I was thinking of you," Tj said warmly. He really meant it. Cyrus blushed and looked back over the valley.

TJ was right, it was all downhill from there. The way down was easier than the way up, but Cyrus still found a reason to ask for a piggyback ride from TJ. It must have rained recently because the way downhill was also damp and muddy. Many people slipped in the thick stuff, especially Gus who was covered up to the waist in the brown goop. TJ even slipped as he carried Cyrus on his back, but he never let Cyrus touch the ground. He would be eternally grateful for that.  

Eventually, Cyrus could see the river close to the Aspen cabin. He wondered what Andi and Amber were doing right now, probably frolicking in the flower field by the Willow Tree or something cinematic like that.

Tj's foot slid in the mud a couple more times before the slope finally leveled. Finally, they had reached the river and walked along the bank when Tj's foot slid one more time, this time hurling Cyrus into the river's shallows with a tumble.

[veridian-forest]

𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙩

Mars burst into the room through a warp panel. “Aren’t you excited?!”

Jupiter sighed quietly. The red-haired commander seemed to always be overflowing with energy, though that seemed to switch between anger and excitement often. It was sometimes charming, when she wasn’t getting her head bitten off.

Mars’ heels clicked on the smooth tiles as she approached her superior. “Well? You didn’t answer.”

“Take a guess, Mars. Master Cyrus is *this* close to achieving his plan.” She held up her hand, putting her index finger and thumb about a centimetre apart.

“I know! That’s why it’s so exciting,” she replied in a sing-song tone. “Lighten up! In a moment’s time, all of this can be gone!”

“You should be preparing yourself for such a situation. Instead you’re running around, yelling at everyone you see.” Jupiter turned away. “What if something goes wrong? There are hundreds of variables.”

Mars scoffed at her. “With an attitude like that, are you even in Team Galactic? A Commander, at that?! Don’t you have any faith in our leader?!”

“Of course I do. I’d be a fool otherwise. But you must understand the repercussions. The whole world will be destroyed, as well as the universe as a result. This will be to create a better world.” Before she could go on, she was interrupted.

“How can you be sure of that? Maybe Master Cyrus will only change the world, to create the ideal.” Mars suggested.

“I guess we cannot tell yet. But we are going to rather quickly.” Jupiter looked askance, watching the wall. “There is no time for this squabbling,” she turned back around, looking into her coworker’s scarlet eyes, which were charged with emotion. Mars seemed uncertain of what to say, and the worry was almost palpable.

Suddenly, Saturn entered the chamber, causing the two to jump.

“Jupiter,” he called, regarding the purple-haired woman. “There’s work to do.”

“Of course there’s work to do. We have jobs, Saturn.” She turned away from the redhead.

“Then let’s get to it. Lord Cyrus wants you to hurry.” He left as swiftly as he came. Jupiter promptly exited as well, leaving the remaining higher-up to look into the spot where the larger woman had been standing.

Mars ambled through the streets of Veilstone City, the lampposts spilling pools of warm light onto the sides of the road. Her apartment complex was still quite far away, but she enjoyed feeling the cool night air on her skin as she made her way back home.

In her pocket, her phone rang, quickly catching her attention. She grabbed it, flicking her hand up to her ear in an instant.

“Hello? Who is this?” There was eagerness in her voice.

“... Oh. It’s you. It seems that I called the wrong number.” Jupiter huffed curtly. “I can’t be bothered. I suppose we can talk, as you are pitifully lonely.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Mars shouted.

“Your only friend is that wretched cat of yours.” She could picture Jupiter looking away disapprovingly.

“Your only friend is that wretched skunk of yours,” Mars mocked, bursting into laughter towards the end.

“Fine, be that way.” Amusement lightened her tone. “I suppose we aren’t all that different.”

“So you’ll only believe that you’re a lonely bitch if you make me a lonely bitch too?” Mars snickered.

“If you wish to take it that way.” Jupiter also laughed quietly.

“Sooo, what are you up to? You have a life outside of this whole gig?” Mars smirked as she turned the corner, her building looming in the distance.

“I’m merely making dinner.”

“So soon? I haven’t even gotten home yet.”

“It isn’t my fault that you live on the edge of the city. No wonder you arrive so late.” Jupiter observed.

“Hey, I’m almost there! And I’m never later than half an hour!” She felt herself getting defensive.

“Oh, Mars, you always are the same.” Jupiter chuckled.

“As are you,” She pushed through the building door and rushed onto the elevator. “What are you having?”

“Currently, I’m consuming some pasta that I made. Though I can’t eat it much if I continue listening to you.”

“What? Are you too off-put by remembering my existence?” She fumbled with her keys, unlocking the apartment’s door.

“Sure, that’s why. I don’t even have to do the work to insult you, you’re practically doing it yourself.”

“Hey! You know—“

The line went dead.

Mars sighed, putting her phone away as she kicked her shoes off. Talking to Jupiter would have to wait for another day.

Jupiter tapped her heeled shoe, gently rapping the stone street. Her hotheaded coworker had headed out to buy something, but she was quickly losing time from her break. She checked the time quickly, noticing that there was only about a minute remaining. She scoffed, pushing through crowds of pedestrians to find her way into the Department Store.

A plethora of healing items, Poké Balls, magazines, and figurines were displayed on the first floor, but Mars was nowhere in sight. Hastily, she ran up the escalator onto the second floor. Everything around her was a blur as she continued to search for her colleague. Eventually, she found herself on the top floor, a familiar figure standing on the edge of her vision.

“Is that you?” She whipped around, speeding towards her acquaintance.

Mars was silent at first, and then turned, revealing a bouquet of red-violet pansies in her petite hands. “What do you want?” Her crimson gaze scorched Jupiter’s face.

“Why are you standing around buying flowers? You have a job!” She snarled.

“I was supposed to buy them for a friend, but they don’t want it anymore.” The short woman looked away. “I guess you can have them. Your whole house must stink like a Skuntank anyway.”

“She doesn’t stink!” She retorted, snatching the flowers out of Mars’ hands nonetheless.

“Maybe you just can’t tell because you smell like one too,” Mars remarked slyly, quickly slinking away to leave.

Jupiter stood there in shock, thinking about what had just occurred. The plastic of the bouquet crinkled under her tight grip. Had she just been gifted these flowers on purpose, or...? Her heart shoved against her ribcage like the fluttering wings of a bird. She examined the mixed palette of the pansies, momentarily dazed. Maybe it wasn’t a complete coincidence after all...

She travelled home, the sky tinged pink and red as the sun sank behind the horizon. The surrounding buildings blackened into silhouettes as she passed through the darkening streets. The maroon petals drifted onto the road in the gentle breeze. She couldn’t help but ponder if Mars had arrived at her home, considering how far away it was. She had left late herself, as the work was piling up. Without thinking, she reached for her phone, dialling in the number.

Mars picked up almost immediately. “Hello? Is it you again?”

“... Ah. Sorry. Wrong number again.” She looked away, trying to seem aloof though she couldn’t be seen.

“Fix your fingers next time, then!” The other woman was about to put her finger over the “End Call” button.

“Hold on...!” Jupiter tried to keep the sudden desperation out of her voice. “We can still talk anyway.”

“We did this yesterday! I didn’t know that you suddenly are so madly in love with me,” she mocked.

“Shut up! That’s not what this is...!” She cringed inwardly at how flustered she sounded.

“Sure, sure.” Mars broke into laughter, hanging up.

Jupiter opened the door to her house, stepping inside.

As always, work droned on. Though they were getting much closer, it was hard to feel any progress coming through. Mars felt more and more tired as it continued. Jupiter had to watch her snap at the Grunts far more frequently than possible, concern surging in her stomach. She couldn’t bear to watch it anymore. Though the Grunts had disciplined, this was crossing the line.

Finally, her break arrived, and she had her chance.

Mars was quiet, quickly devouring her lunch. She tried to ignore the sound of her coworker approaching, hoping for her to second-guess herself and leave before engaging with her. Unfortunately, she didn’t get lucky.

“Mars.”

“What the fuck do you want?” She glared at Jupiter.

“Nothing.”

“Then get the hell out.”

“I won’t.” Her voice was stern.

The redhead grumbled to herself quietly.

“Why are you screaming at everyone all the time?”

“Why can’t I? As a Commander, I have to keep everyone in line!”

“All you’re doing is harassing them. It’s not helping anything.” She insisted.

The short woman huffed, seeming annoyed with the very oxygen in the atmosphere.

Jupiter drew closer, their faces inches apart. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around her, keeping her in a gentle hold.

“It’s going to be okay. Soon this’ll all be over,” she whispered.

Mars nodded in understanding. Even if Lord Cyrus ended the world, she’d be okay with Jupiter by her side.

The days felt eternally long as they passed, and infinitesimally short whilst reflected upon. Nonetheless, the time slipped away, and the time had arrived for the plans to be completed. Cyrus summoned everyone onto Spear Pillar, leaving the Grunts to guard the inside of Mt. Coronet. Mars’ heart pounded as she skidded to a halt on the ground, releasing her grip on her Golbat. Jupiter landed beside her, white crumbled pebbles being expelled into the air in dust clouds.

“The time has finally come!” Mars shouted, the air thick with humidity. A storm was surely brewing, and it was just perfect.

“Calm yourself.” Jupiter looked away. “The end is surely arriving either way.”

She could hardly catch her breath as Cyrus began the ceremony. Dialga and Palkia would arrive at any moment! Everything was going to change! No matter what, she was always ready to be by Jupiter side, even at the demise of the whole world.

Suddenly, loud footsteps echoed through the rocks.

“Stop right there!”

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Garth Ennis Is A Hack

by Rude Cyrus

Friday, 10 April 2009

Rude Cyrus is deservedly rude about The Boys.~

Once upon a time, superheroes were seen as protectors of the innocent, bringers of justice, and saviors of mankind. When I was a kid, there was no greater thrill than watching Superman pummel giant robots or stop a plane from crashing into a city. As time went on, the public began to tire of flawless beings that could do no wrong, so creators began to make the heroes more “realistic”, at least in terms of character. Antiheroes like Wolverine and The Punisher became popular while concepts like vigilantism would be explored in comics like Watchmen.

Unfortunately, the pendulum swung a little too far during the ‘90s, a decade where you couldn’t swing a dead badger without hitting some DARK and GRITTY antihero. This is the same decade that gave birth to Image Comics, a publisher that needs to make an acquaintance with an H-Bomb. All you need to know about Image Comics is that it took over the canceled Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlesfranchise and turned Donatello into a cyborg. That says it all.

This brings me to the present and The Boys, a comic series written by Garth Ennis and illustrated by Darick Robertson (which I keep pronouncing as “da’ Rick”).

Let me just say that I hate this series. I don’t hate it because it’s ultra-violent and ultra-sexualized. I don’t hate it because it makes superheroes (or “supes” as they’re called here) turn out to be a bunch of amoral douchebags. I don’t hate it because I think Garth Ennis is an overrated hack who’s convinced everyone he’s a genius. No, I hate it because I can’t stand the characters.

Everybody, with few exceptions, is thoroughly repugnant. Just look at the main characters:

Billy Butcher is a sociopath with a neck the size of a ham and a perpetual smirk plastered on his face. He owns a bulldog named Terror that can fuck things on command; seemingly hates supes because one raped his wife, who ended up dying because the fetus ripped through her stomach. Butcher ended up beating said fetus to death with a lamp.

Wee Hughie joined The Boys after his girlfriend was accidentally killed by a supe named A-Train. Much of the series is focused on following Hughie’s thoughts and actions, which is unfortunate because he’s a wet blanket with exactly three facial expressions: anger, incredulity, and shit-eating grin. He’s also a dead ringer for Simon Pegg – I suspect Ennis was sitting around, smoking pot, and said to himself, “Dude, wouldn’t it be cool if Simon Pegg had superpowers?”

Mother’s Milk is a somewhat decent guy, which means he gets shoved into the background more often than not. He seems to derive his powers from an entity he calls “Momma” in a process that makes him vomit. Why does he have to do this? Who cares, let’s watch a midget use a massive vibrator!

The Frenchman and The Female are psychotic killers with the ability to rip people apart with their bare hands. Defining characteristics: one is French, the other lacks a penis. Garth Ennis doesn’t give a shit about them, so why should I?

And what would a team of morally dubious antiheroes be without a team of superheroes to oppose them? Enter the Seven, an analogue of the Justice League, filled with characters that make The Boys look like The Boy Scouts. The only good member of the group is Starlight, and she’s constantly degraded by the other members, whether it’s forced into wearing a more revealing outfit, giving fellatio to the male members of the group as a “test”, or nearly being raped by the aforementioned A-Train. It’s also strongly hinted that Homelander (leader of the Seven and Superman analogue) was the one who raped Butcher’s wife.

What a charming bunch. Thankfully, it’s not all bad, as Starlight later becomes Hughie’s girlfriend. It’s a match made in heaven, as they’re both outstandingly bland.

Other notable characters include a CIA analyst with a fetish for female paraplegic athletes, a CIA director that frequently has humiliating sex with Butcher, and recurring cameos by Stan Lee – okay, he’s called the Legend, but it’s supposed to be Stan Lee. Perhaps “Exposition Man” would be a better name, because all he does is talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…

Speaking of stereotypes, there are quite a few on display here. For example, there’s the two fat, hairy, greasy, comic book store-owning Italian brothers who are constantly using variations of “fuck” and threatening their customers with graphic violence; the enormous bearded Russian who talks about communism and the Motherland all the time; the “East Coast vs. West Coast” superhero teams that are always fighting each other, throwing up gang signs and using the n-word. I kept wondering why Garth Ennis was doing this, and I settled on “because he thinks it’s funny.” See, Ennis is pointing out how absurd these stereotypes are, so it’s not really racist, right? Right?

Despite all of this, I forced myself to read all 29 issues, which, at times, felt like I was cutting off my legs with a rusty hacksaw – oh, look, the Russian guy is called “Love Sausage” because he has a fifteen-inch cock! Oh look, Hughie has menstrual blood on his face from oral sex because Starlight was on her period! Oh look, one of the superheroes can vomit acid! Isn’t that a knee-slapper? Worse still was the heavy-handed social and political commentary that Ennis shoehorned in, ranging from how St. Patrick’s Day sucks, to how the military-industrial complex has the United States in a chokehold, to American politics (the President and Vice President being analogues for Dick Cheney and George W. Bush, respectively), to how superheroes are evil. He even uses 9/11 to make his point, for fuck’s sake. Basically, one of the hijacked planes crashed into the Brooklyn Bridge (the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were spared) because the Seven tried to save the day but bungled it due to incompetence and selfishness. Do you see? SUPERHEROES ARE EVIL!

No, that wasn’t what made me stop reading this comic. What made me stop was the latest story arc, called “We Gotta Go Now”. The Boys have to investigate the public suicide of Silver Kincaid, a member of the G-Men (no prizes for guessing who they’re supposed to be an analogue of), for reasons I can’t be bothered to look up. Hughie has to go undercover and infiltrate one of the younger G-teams (as “Bagpipe”, because he’s Scottish, get it?) called G-Wiz. See the subtle pun there?

It’s immediately apparent that something is off with G-Wiz – sure, they might seem to be your average fraternity (i.e. boorish drunks obsessed with bodily functions), but they’re a little too comfortable with each other, if you catch my drift. Couple this with the revelation that G-Men’s leader, John Godolkin (analogue of Charles Xavier – apologies for all the analogues) actually abducted almost all of the G-Men when they were kids and turned them into superheroes, the fact that he refers to the G-Men as his “children”, and all of the dark mutterings of “what we had to deal with” and things start becoming clear.

At this point I thought, “No way. There’s no way Ennis would be so cheap and unoriginal. There has to be more to this.” I read issue 29, and, lo and behold, one of the characters confirmed my worst fears:

John Godolkin is a child molester.

That was the last straw. It wasn’t because one of the villains was a pedophile; rather, it was because Garth Ennis had resorted to such tacky exploitation in order to wring an emotion from his audience. Instead of taking the time to craft something novel, Ennis, out of sheer laziness, decided to go for the biggest heartstring and yank. Why have a complex villain when you can just say, “He’s an evil kid-toucher! BOOGA BOOGA!”

I’m sure Ennis pats himself on the back every day for what he thinks is scathing criticism on the superhero genre and insightful commentary on numerous aspects of life. He isn’t clever, creative, or even likable. He’s just a lazy hack. My smoldering ire also extends to the fans that keep buying this dreck and give it good reviews. What the hell is wrong with these people? My guess is that, in their minds, they equate DARK, GRITTY, and SERIOUS with being good. In my mind, it’s just BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, and more BULLSHIT.

Themes:

Damage Report

,

Sci-fi / Fantasy

,

Comics

~

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~Comments (

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)

Wardog

at 17:17 on 2009-04-10I don't know what to say ... I am completely flabbergasted by the awfulness of this. Why on earth is it garnering praise?

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Arthur B

at 17:26 on 2009-04-10Once upon a time the publishers of

2000 AD

thought it would be great to hand over all the writing duties for the comic for a few months to Garth Ennis, Grant Morrison, and various hangers-on. Why they thought this was a good idea was a mystery because Garth had already proven he shouldn't be trusted with other people's properties when in

Strontium Dogs

(the sequel series to

Strontium Dog

) he pulled a blatant retcon out of his capacious arse to turn the sweet, gentle comic relief character The Gronk into a psychotic gun-toting protagonist. Nonetheless, the magazine went ahead with the Summer Offensive, as it called the promotion (because, you see, it's Garth Ennis and he likes being offensive, and it happened in the summer), and the general tone of the comic went from "12A bordering on 15" (in movie age rating terms) to "18 certificate and a big argument about violence in the media on the side", which prompted the parents of certain younger subscribers, such as myself, to cancel the magazine.

And that's how Garth Ennis ruined

2000 AD

for an 11 year old Arthur.

Seriously, the man is awful. I think the only thing he's done that I've actually liked was

Hellblazer: Dangerous Habits

. Frustratingly, that was brilliant. He's capable of not being an idiot if he tries, he just

doesn't try

.

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Rude Cyrus

at 19:49 on 2009-04-10This was actually nominated for an Eisner Award for "Best Continuing Series" in 2008. And comic bok fans wonder why so many people don't take comics seriously.

Thanks for the image, by the way.

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Wardog

at 20:35 on 2009-04-10For a moment there I was wondering if you meant the image of an 11 year old Arthur but then I realised you meant the literal image that illustrates this article. I hope it's okay - I chose the cover that most annoyed me :)

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Sonia Mitchell

at 23:23 on 2009-04-10This series sounds horrific. Thank you for the warning.

(I badly want to google cyborg Donatello. I'd like to think it can't be as disastrous as I'm imaginging, but that would probably be naive. I'm therefore restraining myself...)

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Arthur B

at 00:46 on 2009-04-11

Oh hey look what else Image have published.

On the other hand, they also put out

The Walking Dead

, which

I really like

.

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Guy

at 03:59 on 2009-04-11Speaking of Image, this is one of the most funny/disturbing things I've ever read: Rob Liefeld's 40 worst drawings: http://progressiveboink.com/archive/robliefeld.html

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Arthur B

at 15:04 on 2009-04-11I'm amazed they were able to find 40 drawings worse than

the infamous Captain America one

.

Actually, I'm not amazed, Liefeld is terrible. Oh God, the feet...

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http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:31 on 2010-07-11Thread necromancy: After reading this article from the random button, I'm reading

The Boys

out of morbid curiosity. I've gotten through the first couple of storylines, issues one through ten. It's about as disgusting as Rude Cyrus has said, with everything as juvenile and pointlessly violent and so forth.

One of the annoying things is that there are occasionally glimmers of interest that make me think "You know, if Garth Ennis actually gave a shit, and stopped dropping tons of stupid violence and stupid sex and stupid ham-fisted 'haha the gay activist is violently afraid of actual homosexuals' shit, he might actually be able to make some points about 'how do we make superheroes accountable?'" One advantage of

The Boys

is that, unlike

Civil War

, it's just one author, so there aren't a bazillion different axes being ground. And it doesn't seem like it's constrained by being a DC Comics Continuity Event, the way

Civil War

was a Marvel Comics Continuity Event. And every once in a while, it seems like Ennis might have something to say on the matter.

But it inevitably degenerates into "hurr hurr supes are pervs, butcher punches them." Fuck you, Ennis, for being wasted potential.

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http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:32 on 2010-07-11Aack, unclosed HTML tags. Sorry! (I'm used to a forum that won't let me post if I have unmatched tags, and didn't check.)

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Rami

at 05:43 on 2010-07-12@webcomcon: Fixed it for you. I'm afraid FerretBrain doesn't really do warnings -- but we do suggest using the Preview button!

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http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 18:20 on 2010-07-13Continuing thread necromancy!

I am a comic book artist. I detest

The Boys

with a deep, abiding disgust. My employer thinks it's brilliant. He is also a big fan of Liefeld (needs more pouches!), so go figure. While

The Boys

is bad, try having your only income being working on the dream project of someone who likes

The Boys

, and feel your artistic integrity shrivel.

I actually considered sending in issue one of

Polis

(what I'm paid to draw) to Ferretbrain for a review; I may yet do that alongside

Polis

issue two and my own side project for what the great minds here could find a fun comparison. "The world is corrupt and drug-addled, corporations are evil, and our main hero is an amoral Cape [superhero] with few redeeming qualities." versus "A space princess and space pirates act terribly toward one another, but all in good fun." I asked my employer, and he thinks any publicity is good.

Speaking of "Cape" and "Supe", what is this allergic reaction to the word superhero? Yes, superhero is a long word, but so is computer. From my perspective, it would seem more likely that superhero would get shortened to just hero. Then advert campaigns about "The

real

heroes of X city: our policemen and firefighters" would take on a whole new weight. Plus, I haven't met many people who say 'puter, and compy only caught on after Strongbad popularised it.

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Dan H

at 19:11 on 2010-07-13I think the thing about abbreviating "superhero" to something like "cape" or "supe" (did Watchmen use "mask" or am I making that up) is that it highlights the fact that this is an EDGY SERIOUS WORK OF FICTION about EDGY DARK CHARACTERS not some KIDDY THING about SUPERHEROES.

Because as we all know, nothing screams "maturity" like going to great lengths to appear mature.

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http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 21:32 on 2010-07-13The thing which screams maturity the best is to have everyone swear all the time, and put blood and torture on every page. The ability to engage in traditionally adult themes while employing transgressive story elements such as bodily fluids, misogyny, and rape is the hallmark of an individual whose mind has progressed past puerile adolescent fascination. As you said, superheroes are so childish. We aren't writing stories about superheroes under a different name. These are adult stories about well rounded characters employing serious themes. Just like Terry Goodkind is definitely not a *pfft*

fantasy author.

Sarcasm over, I honestly don't remember if

Watchmen

used "mask." I guess I've just lost some comix-cred.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:13 on 2011-10-28Hey guys. I'm aware this is a few years old but just discovered the site and enjoying it, even when I disagree.

But this is the only one I think I needed to comment on.

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

Secondly, this review seems to have totally failed to come to terms with the text.

OK. I'm not going to argue against certain points here. There's gross out humor, there's swearing, there's a hamster well-up in a zombie's bum. There's puke and disgusting, disgusting periods that no man should ever have to read about (cos girls, right! ew. The writer of this article agrees!) and there's even some blood and guts and a superhero orgy and someone strangles Scarlet Witch with a belt!

But.

The scene where poor old Annie, Starlight, has to service six members of the Seven to get in? It's awful. And a considerable part of the text is concerned not only with her coming to terms with the assault but (and how often to you see this?) actually come to terms with and starting to heal from the assault.

The two black teams who scream the N word at each other? There's no discussion of the young black man who is going to be forced into one of the teams who sees nothing he recognises of his experiences in tired mainstream hip hop lingo and posing. A man who has begun to understand that to become a superstar, he has to enter into a well-dodgy narrative.

No discussion of the good people warped into being celebrities and what that costs them, which is the central metaphor of the book.

Or the actual honesty when Hughie, who's never met a gay man but has to hang out in a gay club and suddenly finds his liberal sensibilities a bit overwhelmed. A scene that's never, ever played for cheap gay joke laughs.

The point of Hughie going down on a girl with a period is not that it's gross and his mates laugh at him. It's that he refuses to let something as dumb as that get in the way of his relationship with Annie. He cops some jokes and some pisstaking but then will not let the deathly embarrassed girl freak out over what turns out to be ... nothing at all.

In recent years, we've also seen a cheap man-on-man 'Dark Knight Returns' rape joke actually turns out to actually be a proper discussion on the reasons why a chap might not be able to discuss it with his friends. And what that cost him.

St Patrick's Day sucks? Surely an repatriated Northern Irishman who grew up in the Troubles has nothing to say about the immigrant experience to the United States. What a hack!

As for scoring political points off 9/11.... mate. Welcome to the world. I fail to even see an argument here.

I'm not going to say everyone should love The Boys. And sometimes I get a bit weary of schoolboys bleeding out of their arses and all the rest. And I think Ennis has made his point about religion by now. I do. (Spoiler alert: Preacher)

I like the comic but I don't expect everyone to be able to laugh like I do when the mentally ill Batman analogue has sex with a meteor.

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

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Arthur B

at 13:32 on 2011-10-28Hi dcc46, welcome to Ferretbrain!

I've not read

The Boys

but I have read enough Ennis to at least address this point:

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

You know what else is incredibly lazy? Basing your writing career so heavily on cheap shock tactics which come across like a 13 year old trying to be edgy. I couldn't get past the first volume of

Preacher

because Ennis' obsession with gore, fucking, and other scatological subjects just became intensely monotonous. His contributions to 2000 AD were much the same. His

Hellblazer

run started out brilliantly - I think

Dangerous Habits

is both the best thing he's written and the best

Hellblazer

story that

anyone

has written - but I couldn't abide the rest of it precisely because he kept falling back into bad habits.

When a man makes a career out of indulging his puerile instincts to an extent where consistently and repeatedly his material degenerates into lame attempts to be shocking for the sake of it, that's pretty hackish.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:51 on 2011-10-28Well, if that's all you've read of Hellblazer, that's cool. When he was, what, 21, he wrote that. There was a bit of a fall off in quality before he'd come back with stories of Kit and Ric the Vic and end up telling stories of the devil contrasted with the nasty realities of racial politics in early 90s London.

If you passed on Preacher, that's cool. That second story arc is uninspired. But you missed out on a a meditation of faith, friendship, watching a man try to navigate between his old-fashioned 'chivalry' and a woman who refused to be patronised or left behind.

So I honestly don't see shocking for shocking's sake. I see bad taste. But I've never felt there's a kind of splatter punk aesthetic at work.

That's sort of my point.

I see humour that may or may not work for you. But I'm suggesting to you that if you can get past the guts and jizz all over the shop. And if that's really a sticking point for you, then you won't ever get into it.

But I think your wrong if puerility is all you get out of the work.

I know you had issues with his early 2000AD run. I never got that. I'm Australian and 2000AD seemed to ship... on a madman's calendar. So I can't comment on that.

So I tell you what. Try something like his PG Hitman. His war stories, where he reigns himself in. His Punisher MAX, which is humorless as a Derek Raymond novel.

But I'll split you the difference: Jennifer Blood is fucking awful.

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https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 14:05 on 2011-10-28Anyways, I'm off.

But, a hack writer is a bad writer. Matt Reiley is a hack writer. He's bad at the English language, his plots are hackneyed, his haircut is stupid.

If you don't like Ennis' work, that's cool. But just because you think he wraps things up in grossness doesn't make him a bad writer -at all-. He's an accomplished writer with themes and metaphors and all that writery stuff.

Nevertheless, good site. Talk later.

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valse de la lune

at 16:00 on 2011-10-28

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

How quaint; you appear to be gnashing your teeth exactly because Cyrus didn't like the thing. I also agree with Arthur's assessment of Ennis: overrated hack pandering to things teenage boys--usually teenage white boys at that, what with the n-word thing--find oh so edgy and clever.

Preacher

is absolutely fucking unreadable and I spit in its general direction.

And, while you can certainly use the word "hack" to denote a poor writer--which I'd argue Ennis

is

, at that--his general attitude and output are pretty hacky too, in the lowest-common-denominator sense.

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Rude Cyrus

at 20:31 on 2011-10-29Here's the thing: whatever good points or ideas Ennis may have are ruined by the juvenile shock tactics he wraps them in -- it's one thing to use violence and sex occasionally and for great effect, it's another to use them

all the time.

For example, I can agree with Ennis that St. Patrick's Day is an excuse for every American with a drop of Irish blood to wear green and get sick on beer, but when he ends this commentary on a close-up on a hat filled with puke, it makes me roll my eyes.

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Show / Hide Comments -- More in April 2009

[talesofvalaar]

Moments That Never Were: Aetros

[Just a forewarning; It’s a long one.]

These dreams have become so frequent it’s hard to tell what was ever true and where the dream began. I wake often in my room with the imbalanced feeling deep in my chest. Sometimes I can tell if I’m dreaming, sometimes I cannot.

Today, I cannot.

I awaken to the sound of my mother and two handmaids lacing her corset. She turns to meet my gaze, “Aetros! Oh thank goodness, I was worried you wouldn’t be awake when the boat came in.”

“The… boat?” My head is spinning, but I am almost certain she said ‘boat’.

“Yes, dear, the boat,” She takes my hand and we leave her dressing room. I pass by the mirror; my scar is gone, my horns not grown yet, I can’t be older than 15. I start to wonder if it’s normal to question my age if I’m not in a dream.

My mother takes me to the port that usually is only used by our military. Every guard nods and smiles and we walk by, some even bow. The Major General is waiting at the end of the dock.

“Your highnesses,” He bows to both of us.

“The honor is all ours, Raviatan. He would be dreadfully upset if we were not present upon his arrival.” My mother pats my shoulder and smiles.

“I am pleasantly surprised that young Aetros could join us today,”

My cheeks turn red, “Likewise, Sir…” At this moment, I am not entirely sure who it is I am waiting on. I know she said the General, but is it customary for us to greet the military after a mission? We’ve never had to before.

“There she is! The General’s ship!” Major General Raviatan points at a military vessel floating on the horizon.

A very familiar horned figure stands on the bow on the ship, hands behind back, eyes on the horizon.

“Dad…” I whisper quietly. I see my mother smile.

It’s strange; every time I see him in a dream, every time I see him at all, it feels like the first time all over again. I hope I never forget what that feels like.

The boat drops anchor, two lines of soldiers walk past us before the General finally steps out onto the dock.

“Welcome back, General Valaar.”

“Reserve the formalities for the War Room, Ravi,” He turns to greet mother and I, embracing us simultaneously, “I missed you both so much,” My mother kisses his cheek, he returns the gesture. Mother steps away so that my dad can sweep me off my feet and twirl with me in his arms. “Especially you, kiddo.”

I feel tears swell in my eyes, “I’m so glad you’re back.” he feels almost too large for me to wrap my arms around, but that doesn’t stop me.

“Aww come on, I know that you have to have missed Wallace just a tiny bit.”

“Wall-”

I hear a faint, subtle, “Boo,” over my left shoulder. It’s enough for me to jump out of my father’s arms in fright, nearly falling into the water.

“Woah!” Wallace grabs my hand and pulls me closer, “I didn’t mean to actually scare you.”

“Come, you two, we can talk about the college together.” My mother ushers down the boardwalk.

The college?

---

“So we’re calling it the ‘(Last name) Institution of Science’ and we should be opening some time before Winter. The site is beautiful and the architects have done a wonderful job. I’m hoping that I will get to take Aetros before classes begin.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. We’re all so proud of you. I’m sure your father would be too.” Mother pats Wallace’s shoulder reassuringly.

I almost can’t believe it. Wallace was before me, a changed man with intentions on educating future generations. A man who wanted to leave a legacy. Could I trust it? Was this truly someone bent on changing their future or did my mind fabricate something more twisted than the reality itself?

“You’ve been awfully quiet, dear, “ My father looks to me, “Is everything alright?”

“U-uh, y-yes… I just haven’t felt very well today. Forgive me, everyone.” I nervously take a sip of my tea.

“I understand, Aetros. I can take you back to your room, if you’d like.” Wallace smiles dearly.

“Oh, would you? Katayida and I have some personal matters to discuss.” Mother looks at me, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.”

Wallace extends his arm. I take it.

We walk in silence.

“... I know today is hard for you,” He says to me, solemn.

“... in what way?”

“Well… y’know… it’s kinda the anniversary of my mother’s e-execution…”

Excuse me? “I would think that would be harder on you,” I am trying my best to blend into the situation, “She was your mother.”

“Yeah, but she tried to kill you. Like, in public,” Well, he has me beat there, “Besides, we weren’t close. I can’t really feel bad for someone I hardly knew.”

I hope Maelline is rolling in her grave, “I guess you have a point.”

“Parents are just people who have children. Family are the people who love and care about you,” Wallace looks to me, “You, Lissa and Katayida are my family.”

“I-I’m honored… you feel this way…” I can’t believe it. I physically can’t believe it. The fabric of the dream shivers. I’m reminded of the real Wallace, the other Wallace? The one that wanted to conquer the world and create abominations, the morally corrupt one, the one that tried to kill us more than once.

I cry out as the memories flood back to me, my knees hit the floor. I can’t stop shaking.

“Aetros! What happened?! Are you okay? What can I do?” Wallace comes to my aide. Why is he- which one is he? I can’t- I can’t remember.

“Talk to me! What do you need? Please tell me what’s wrong!” he begs.

“I… I remember everything.”

And I black out.

---

Reality stabs me with a sharp dagger. This isn’t a dream; it’s a memory. A memory from another time. This is the world where my father never left and Maelline was overthrown. This is the world I had always wondered about. But I don’t understand; what good is it to experience this if I can’t remember anything else? To me, my father barely knows who I am, despite loving me unconditionally, Maelline is alive and hellbent on my death, and Wallace is right beside her.

In the end, what do I believe? What should I trust? How do I know that this will last? How long will this last? I know what is real.

But do I even want to remember what’s real anymore?

I feel something gently trace the points of my horns, it moves down my cheek, and stops at my chin.

“Well, this is certainly odd.”

That voice. I know that voice. I know that voice.

“Weren’t your horns bigger before you fell asleep, honey?”

HYRSAM????

I jump to life. There he is; the fae spirit himself, Hyrsam the fool. And I’m in his bed. I think.

“Did… did anything happen while I was asleep?” I ask, exasperated.

“No idea, I left for a moment to check on something,” he makes the face where he pretends he’s not reading my mind. His eyes widen and he jumps back.

“What? What is it?”

“U-uh… this might be a weird question. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was back at home. I was like… 15? My father was a General and Wallace was about to open a college. I passed out in the hallway after… after…”

Hyrsam throws a dress my way, “I just want to make it very clear, I did not make out with you while you looked like a teenager.”

“Do I look like one now?”

He nods fervently, averting his eyes.

I clothe myself, embarrassed for whatever version of myself I am living through, “So… what reality is this?”

“How do you mean?”

“What makes this world different from the others? I was just in the one where Maelline was overthrown and executed. I think I live in the one where there’s a war going on and there are spiders everywhere?”

He looks distant.

“Please, I need to know. It’s getting really hard to sort my thoughts.”

“... Well, Lolth’s threat is gone here…”

“Uhuh and?”

“You’re the only one who lived.”

“The… only one?”

He nods, “No one survived.”

“Hyrsam, you have to tell me what happened,” I reach for his hand, he pulls away, “I’m scared, I don’t even really know where I am anymore… I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

He falls quiet for a moment.

And sighs deeply.

---

The sky is gray with storming clouds, creatures I couldn’t begin to identify swarming around us. I hold tight to Daxos as we bound across the battlefield, blood oozing from a gash in my side among other places. I look across the landscape, a familiar Dragonborn staves off a Chitine while she stands over a druid I recognize as Bloeedueth. A little ways down, I see a Barbarian man fall to the might of several spiders. The blood and gore goes on for what feels like miles, my head feels light, I hear the calls of my loved ones, some distant, some close. Daxos finally stops, wrapping his long, displaced tendrils around me and tossing me into what I realize now is a portal. I reach towards him, but he runs away. I hear his roar echo from the beyond as I am now displaced from place in time.

The Feywild is bright and beautiful, unsuitable for my damaged body and my cries of pain. The corner of my eye catches the sight of another body, I crawl towards it, noticing it rested against another. A Drow and a Half-Elf, Jaron and Cyrus. Jaron’s breath rattles, his head against Cyrus’s chest. “W-we held on… as long as possible…” He turns around, his eyes finally meeting mine. His gaze shifted to my injured body, “Aetros, you’re…”

“I can’t look… is it bad?” I choke, blood falling from my lips into the dirt.

Jaron stood up, revealing the extent of his injuries; a spider’s leg through his arm and several leg-sized holes in his body. Weakly, he dragged me over to Cyrus, I felt a cry in my throat, but he silenced me, “I know. It’s okay.” He resumed his position, cradling the two of us now.

I reached for Cyrus’s hand, he barely curled his fingers around mine. He pressed his face against my arm and smiled. I felt it when he stopped breathing.

I started to wail, holding tightly to what was left of him. Jaron coughed, his breathing slowing down. I turned to him in horror, but all he could do was smile.

And then I was alone.

---

Hyrsam held me tightly as I relived those memories, each one in painful detail. He whispered to me quietly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough…” as I sobbed in his arms.

This reality felt cold and inhospitable now and all I wanted to do was leave again. I would take the fake smile on Wallace’s smug face over losing all of my family and comrades to Lolth’s tyrade. I would take it in stride even if there were a knife through my heart.

“Aetros- You’re-” Hyrsam quickly let go of me, calling to attention the scars on my body, fresh and bleeding.

“Make it stop!” I try to lay on hands myself, to no avail.

Hyrsam conjures a small pile of bandages and healing salves, generously covering me in each. I’m shaking by the end, sobbing through each wrap of the cloth. Hyrsam looks distressed, even moreso than the last time I had seen him, (but he didn’t need to know about that). When he finishes, he takes a step back, “I uh… I’ll let you rest for a bit. It sounds like you need it.” he leaves the room quietly. I am alone again.

I close my eyes, wondering when this sick dream will end.

“I just want to go home…” I whisper.

---

I am greeted by the pitch black void instead.

I float aimlessly.

Quietly.

“You.”

Or so I thought.

I turn around and face my companion in this void.

Wallace charges at me, his hands aimed for my neck. I quickly dodge and float to the side.

“You did this. You put me here!!” he put the toe of his boot to my head, but the force only pushed me.

“I haven’t done anything! I’m just as confused as you!!” I moved a fist in his direction, pushing him away in a similar fashion. We continued pushing each other until we realised this was doing nothing.

“I don’t need to kill you to get out of here. I can find some other way.” Wallace examined his surroundings fervently with his calculating stare.

“Get out? Aren’t you dead?” The last thing I remembered before I switched realities was Ælfric with his sword, gutting Wallace where he stood. You don’t just forget that you died.

Wallace paused, then continued to look around, “As if that’s going to stop me. I’d take a thousand more lifetimes of watching my miserable lives play out than sit here with you.”

“Wallace… I don’t think you get to leave.”

“And what makes you think that you do?”

“If you want me to be honest, I saw 15 year old me die in a hallway, watched my friends and family die in my arms, I apparently also had sex with a fae prince, and that’s just what I’ve seen today.” I concede.

“You’ve seen your other lives as well?”

We share a knowing gaze.

“... What happened in yours?”

“Anything and everything, in grave detail. Including the things you mentioned.”

“What happened after we were in the hallway?”

He scoffed, “You went into a coma then died 2 weeks later. I had a nervous breakdown and resigned control of that university to someone else. Immediately began studying the dark arts in attempt to bring you back, pissed off the god of death, Katayida killed me out of ‘mercy.’ That was a boring one. Very out of character for me.”

“Gods. That’s horrible.”

“Nowhere near as bad as the one where the woman I fell in love with became brainwashed and tied me to our mattress to kill me. Love is an odd thing, let me tell you.” He laughed as though it were a joke. He had been brutally murdered at least 3 times and he was laughing about it.

“Are you not the slightest bit disturbed that you’ve died so horribly?”

“Disturbance is subjective. As is happiness. Why do you ask? I know you don’t feel sympathy towards me.” His eyes pierced through me, callousness unmatched.

“Well… you’re right to assume that I don’t sympathize with you entirely, but I understand how you feel. A little.”

“I find that very hard to believe, your highness,” Wallace crossed his arms, “Pray tell how the suffering of others looks from high upon your horse?”

“What makes you think my life was so easy?” I hear the void echo my words, amplifying them, intensifying them, “And what do you care for the suffering of others anyway?”

Wallace becomes quiet.

“Perhaps you should recall those alternate lives of yours and jog your memory; my life was in no way easy.”

“It was because you were weak.” Wallace muttered.

“It was so much more than that and you know it.”

Wallace’s brow furrowed as he straightened his back out, “This conversation is pointless. Your presence here is pointless-”

“Why? Because I don’t agree with you? Because maybe, just maybe, we’re not-”

“We are strangers, Aetros.” His voice echoed across the void, “Whatever sympathetic comparison you are looking for doesn’t exist. Not where you’re from anyway.”

“... That’s not what I-”

“Open your eyes, child. You can’t begin to fathom why I would do the things I have because you’re too ‘good’ and ‘noble’ to be affiliated with someone who takes what they know is theirs. You can’t understand why we’re so different when we’re so very similar.”

His words linger in the air.

I see his gaze falter momentarily, but return to it’s cold resting place. He knows more than I can comprehend.

“Is that how you feel about me?” I ask, naively.

“I see so much more in you. It is beyond me why you squander such a powerful being,” he almost sounds sincere, “Had I known that I didn’t necessarily need…” his hands begin to quiver and eminate a faint light, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything, I’m listening to-” he draws attention to my own glow. We exchange confused looks as the world around us changes, “Wallace?”

Wallace is changing. His hair grows long and his clothes change entirely. His scars from mechanical augments disappear. I am standing before a completely different man, and it becomes apparent the moment he opens his mouth.

“Is that what you remembered?”

I recall our last conversation. He held me in his arms as I died, overwhelmed by the knowledge of my previous lives. He had seen it all. Now he understood.

My hands were still glowing. I open my mouth to speak, but something stops me; the sound of my own voice, speaking instead.

“I missed you so much. Wallace!” A ghost of my former self runs past me, into his arms. The scene plays in reverse, and plays again on repeat. More Wallaces appear. More Aetros appear. They hold each other tightly. They push each other away. They talk. They nod. They laugh. They cry. They scream. But in the end, they walk together into a beacon of light, content with what had become.

One by one they disappear. And once again, I am left with Wallace from my time.

He seems uncomfortable.

“You okay…?”

“Did you notice how many of them were happy to see each other?”

I had, actually. “Quite a few, wouldn’t you say?”

“More than I thought there’d be.”

The void quaked around us, but Wallace stood unphased.

“I’m sure your friends are waiting for you.” He gestured behind me, a pillar of blue light stretched beyond the bounds of space. No such pillar was behind Wallace.

“But what about-”

“It’s clear that I have some thinking to do.” he folds his hands calmly behind his back.

The pillar draws me in.

“Wallace?”

“Yes, Aetros?”

“I…” The pillar takes in my arm, “I’m glad we got a chance to talk.”

“Likewise, your highness.”

And then, I remember nothing.