#however I think that a lot of the chains in the end wouldn’t mash with Kyoya

[snugglebeans3000]

I really wanna do a redesign of all the beyblade character eventually, however I think I’ll just start out with this one

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ love chained ✦

this chapter pairing; incubus!jeonghan&incubus!joshua x reader

genre&warnings; incubus!au, dom!jeonghan, softdom!joshua, sub!reader, daddy kink, sir kink, blowjob, spitroasting, dirty talk, hair pulling, squirting, sex toys, creampies.

notes; the way everyone wants to be sandwiched between jeonghan and joshua is... relatable 🥵🥵🥵 they really are like an angel and devil in my mind and boy the juxtaposition makes the head go BRRTTT. This is also the last incubus fic for the collection so enjoy! hehe~ 💕💕and thank you for all the support for Monster Mash 🥺💕 I know some of these fics weren't too out there but it was super fun to just have a collection of one shots that were kinda out there 🤣 and here’s hoping I posted these in order 😌 @ drunk me. I love yall and be safe this halloween weekend!! 💕🎃👻 

word count; ~2800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - x - x

say that you want me, but i know that you need me;

i can feel you, i can hear you calling out to me

say that you want me, but i know that you need me;

i can feel you

and it’s only you i see.

Jeonghan and Joshua come as a set. Always.

They never traveled without the other and they never visited you without the other either. To them, it was strictly off limits.

And at first, it’d been a lot for you to take in; you’d only meant summoning one incubus, not two, and you were overwhelmed with both of them appearing to you at once. Just a silly experiment gone wrong, you’d said.

But they’d been patient and understanding, voices angelic and soft when they had lured you to bed and you had been quick to get used to the four hands always on your skin from then on.

Halloween was dreary this time around; a shitty party and shitty drinks making you bail earlier than you intended when you called for a taxi at 10PM.

You sigh as you rest against the backseat, thoughts of a glass of wine, a warm bath and your vibrator sounding like the right option when you got home.

If you were lucky, maybe Jeonghan and Joshua would show up for a little while too, if they weren’t too busy.

You get home just before 11PM, removing your high heels haphazardly at the door before skipping down the hallway to the bathroom.

Turning the knobs to let the water run, you quickly strip out of your clothes and pour some bubble bath into the tub before walking back out into the kitchen to fix yourself a drink.

“Whoa there, princess.” Joshua exclaims, watching you from the dining table as you stand naked in front of him and Jeonghan. “My, my, to what do we owe the pleasure? Jeonghan quips; already having poured himself a glass of wine.

“I--what are you doing here!?” Blushing, you try to cover yourself, only to give up when you realize there was no point.

“What are we doing here? What else would we be doing here, sweetheart?” Jeonghan smirks.

They both get up from the dining table, Jeonghan’s fingers wrapped around the bottle of wine as they slowly walk you back to the bathroom. “We’re here to pamper you, baby.” Joshua smiles, hands on your shoulders as he leads you towards the bathtub that was almost nearly filled.

“Yeah, get you nice and warmed up so we can fuck you into the sheets until you only remember our names.” Jeonghan sets the bottle on the counter after he fills his glass, passing it to you once you’ve settled into the bubbly water. “Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart.” There’s a wink at the end of his words and you find yourself blushing under his crimson stare.

“How… how did you know to come here?” You ask quietly, relaxing into the water as Joshua starts to massage your shoulders. Jeonghan rolls his eyes from his perch on the countertop, “Oh, please. Your panties were getting wet in that fuckin’ taxi thinking about choking on Joshua’s dick while I fucked your cunt from behind. You really think we wouldn’t know?”

Joshua laughs a little from behind you, thumbs pressing into your spine as you moan. “I hate to say it, baby, but he’s right. You were a little obvious, you know?”

You finish the glass of wine, setting it down on the floor outside of the tub as you lean into Joshua’s touch. “Okay, okay, you got me. It’s been a long and boring night, alright? I just wanted to come home and relax, maybe get my vibrator out and I started thinking about you two instead…” You mumble.

“D’you think those toys could do it for you? After you’ve had us?” Jeonghan pretends to be sad, hands over his chest like he’d been shot in the heart.

“No, I---I just figured you’d be busy that’s all… And I’m fully capable of taking care of my needs, just so you know!”

Joshua leans down, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear. “But would it satisfy you like we do? Would that little vibrator get you to cum like our cocks do?”

A shiver rolls up your spine at Joshua’s close proximity and you feel yourself clench around emptiness as you rub your thighs together underneath the bubbly, soapy water.

“No… It wouldn’t.”

Regretfully, your pampering bath doesn’t last long when both Jeonghan and Joshua start to get impatient.

Joshua helps you dry off before he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom where he unceremoniously tosses you onto bed.

“Joshua!” He grins, hands on the buttons of his neatly pressed satin shirt. “What? Did it hurt?”

“No…”

Jeonghan comes out of your closet; your box of toys in his hands as he spills the contents of it onto the bed. “Let’s play with some of these tonight, hmm?” Grinning, he picks out a small pink vibrator, clicking through the settings before he, too, starts to strip himself of his clothes. “Ah, sweetheart, I think we’re both a little more impatient tonight than usual.” Jeonghan mock pouts. Joshua joins him, lips pursed. “Jeonghan’s right. I think we’re running a little low on energy… We were waiting on you to call for us all night, actually.”

You feel the arousal pour over you, wetness pooling between your legs when they both crawl towards you on the bed. “T-that’s okay… I… daddy and sir can… um, play with me however they want tonight…”

Their eyes flash a darker red, twin smirks on their lips. “Are you sure? Do you remember your safeword, sweetheart?” Jeonghan leans in, tilting your head up.

“Ah, it’s um… peony, d-daddy…”

“And the colour you’re at right now, baby?”

“G-green, sir…”

They both pull away, sharing a look between themselves.

“Then let’s play, baby.”

Joshua is very much the angel to Jeonghan’s devil.

They work in tandem as Joshua keeps the vibrator pressed tight against your clit while Jeonghan pinches your nipples between his fingertips. “Ah, d-daddy! Nooo~ ‘m sensitive t-there…” Whining, you try to shy away from Jeonghan’s lithe fingers but even Joshua’s quick to hold your body still from squirming around too much.

“Ah, ah. Behave, baby. Don’t make us have to punish you, okay?” Joshua soothes. You mewl in return, grinding against the vibrator as Jeonghan goes back to teasing your chest.

Joshua runs the vibrator through your folds, letting the tip of it nudge your clit with every pass. He holds it to your entrance as well, holding it there until a choked whine bubbles past your lips. “Oh? Do you want something inside your tight ‘lil cunt, sweetheart?”

“Mmh, I---if daddy and s-sir are okay with it…” You mumble.

Jeonghan laughs airily, pulling away from you just as Joshua turns off the vibrator and tosses it to the side. “Our cute babygirl is being so good for us tonight, isn’t she, Jeonghan?”

“Mm… She wants to please us tonight, huh?” Jeonghan directs his question to you, to which you nod; a pink blush on your cheeks.

They help you readjust on the bed, hands and knees sinking down into the mattress as Joshua kneels in front of you. Jeonghan sneaks up from behind you, making you jolt in shock when his hands are immediately on your ass.

“Sweetheart, you’re dripping onto the bed sheets, you know.”

“A-ah, it’s ‘cause s-sir was teasing me s-so much…” Joshua chuckles, threading a hand through your hair as he guides you closer towards his cock. “And you would’ve cum if I held that toy onto your cute ‘lil clit for any longer too.”

You peek your tongue out, kitten licking the shaft of Joshua’s cock as Jeonghan starts running his cock through your folds, coating it with your wetness. “Sweetheart, I don’t think I can wait any longer…” Jeonghan whispers. He positions the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you when he only slightly pushes in.

“P-please don’t tease me a-anymore… daddy... I want you I-inside me...” Your voice is slightly muffled as you continue to lap at Joshua’s cock; dragging your tongue from the base to the tip as he moans out, “I guess we should give our babygirl what she wants then.”

Nodding, Jeonghan slowly starts to ease his cock in, eyes rolling back with how wet you were around him and he hadn’t even fully bottomed out yet. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good...” You can only whine against Joshua, the grip on your hair tightening slightly when the vibrations prove too much for him too.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You part your lips, opening your mouth wide as Joshua lets his cock rest on the bed of your tongue. Sinking your mouth down onto him, you hollow your cheeks around him as Jeonghan starts fucking you from behind.

“Shit, look at her. Pretty lips wrapped around your cock while her pretty ‘lil cunt is stretched around my cock.” Jeonghan licks his lips, eyes transfixed on the way his cock comes out of your pussy wetter and wetter each time. “Ah, but don’t cum down her throat, Joshua.”

“Why not?” Joshua guides your head down onto him by your hair, holding you down for a few long, grueling seconds as you gag around him.

“Because, she wants you to cum in her pussy. Get her fuckin’ filled with your cum and then I’ll fill her up with mine too. Let it spill out of her spent cunt so we can fuck it back into her.” Your walls clamp down hard onto Jeonghan; eyes crossing a little as Joshua pulls you off of his cock. He chuckles under his breath, tiling your head up to meet his crimson, lust filled pools. “Is Jeonghan right? Is that what you want?”

“Y-yes, s--sir… I---I want you to c-cum in my p-pussy…” You croak.

Joshua smiles, leaning down to kiss you on the lips before straightening back up. “Okay then. I’ll give you what you want, baby.”

You wrap your lips around his cock again, hollowing out your cheeks as you continue to suck him off and fuck yourself on Jeonghan’s cock.

The three of you fall into a rhythm as Jeonghan’s thrusts get harder, which in turn make you take more and more of Joshua’s cock into your throat as you gag around him. Your lips touch the base of his cock, tears stinging your eyes as you whine and the vibrations making Joshua shiver.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’ll cum soon, baby.” Joshua grits out, fingertips tugging on your hair until you wince. He draws his hips back, only letting the head of his cock stay inside your mouth as you start to tease him with your tongue. You dig the tip of your tongue into the slit on his cockhead; whimpering when Jeonghan’s cock starts slamming into your g-spot.

“Shit!” Joshua exclaims, pulling you off of him completely. You cough and sputter; chest heaving as you catch your breath. “Okay, that’s it, move out of the way, Jeonghan.”

“Jesus, already?” Joshua lets go of your hair just as Jeonghan slides his cock from inside of you and your body immediately slumps down onto the sheets as you whine at the sudden emptiness. Jeonghan moves off to the side as Joshua replaces him and he’s quick to sheath himself in your tight warmth as he chases his orgasm.

You face plant into the sheets, moans muffled as Joshua fucks you hard and fast, hips angled just right to curve into your g-spot.

“Fuck, you’re such a good babygirl for us tonight. Letting us fuck you how we want. I hope you’re ready for what that entails, baby.” Joshua grunts, hands firmly on your ass as he uses your cunt to get himself off.

“I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

You moan against the sheets when you feel his cock throbbing inside of you, filling you up with cum as he rides out his orgasm.

“Oho~ ‘Shua’s cum is already dripping out of you, sweetheart. Your ‘lil cunt is gonna be so fuckin’ filled with our cum, you’ll be thinkin’ about us for days~” Jeonghan teases. He runs his hand slowly down his cock, watching as Joshua fucks his cum deeper into your pussy as he lets the bliss wash over him.

“A-ah.. s-sir… ‘m so fuh--full…” You slowly fuck yourself on his cock, whining when he holds you still instead.

“Baby, you were so good for me. But now it’s ‘Hannie’s turn, okay? Be good.” Joshua leans over, kissing your shoulder blade before he pulls himself out of you; cum dripping onto the sheets.

The two share a look before Joshua steps off of the bed and Jeonghan scoots closer to you as he gently pushes you over and onto your back.

“Ready to cum, sweetheart?” He waves the small pink vibrator in your line of sight as he smirks down at you. You gulp slightly, knowing  that Jeonghan would throw you over the edge of an orgasm and thensome.

“Y-yes… d--daddy… please make me c-cum…”

Jeonghan spreads your legs, eyeing your wet folds covered in Joshua’s cum. “Tsk, Joshua can be so messy sometimes~” He places the vibrator to the side for now; instead wrapping your legs around his waist as he positions himself at your entrance.

He sinks his cock back into you, except this time, he doesn’t start slow.

This time, he fucks you just as hard and fast as Joshua was fucking you; hips slamming into you with each thrust.

“Ah, babygirl I wish you could see yourself right now. Stretched pretty around my cock while Joshua’s cum is all over~” You mewl at his words, bucking your hips up to match his movements.

“Hmm, should we fuck her in front of a mirror next time?” Joshua reappears, laying down next to you on the bed. “We can take you to one of our ‘playrooms’. With a nice big mirror so you can see yourself when we’re fucking you.”

“Ngh, I’d---I’d like that, ah, a-a lot, sir…” You feel yourself close to an orgasm as Jeonghan continues to thrust into you, hands on his forearms. “Ah, d-daddy, ‘m cl--close… please…”

Jeonghan is silent as he reaches for the vibrator, clicking through the settings before he sets it to the highest setting possible. He grins, eyes glimmering with lust when he rests the silicone toy against your clit and presses down hard.

“Oh, fuh----fuck, daddy!”

It only takes a split second before your orgasm crashes into you hard; momentarily blacking out at how hard the vibrations wreck your body in tandem with Jeonghan’s thrusts.

“Oh~ She’s squirting all over you, Jeonghan.” Joshua smirks, watching as Jeonghan fucks you through your orgasm.

The said male finds it harder and harder to thrust into you as your walls tighten and clamp down onto him, a soft growl on his lips when his own orgasm starts to crest. “Fuck, ngh, she’s so goddamn tight!” His cock throbs as he grinds against you, soft mewls falling from your lips at the feeling of being filled with cum a second time. 

Jeonghan keeps the toy pressed to your overly sensitive clit even when you whine and beg him to take it off, hands tiredly trying to push him and the toy away.

“Colour, baby?”

“G-green, sir…” You mumble as your body twitches underneath Jeonghan. The slight sting of overstimulation was already starting to feel kind of good, the longer he kept the toy pressed firm against you.

It takes a second for Jeonghan to catch his breath before he’s quickly shutting the toy off and tossing it off to the side again, except this time you pout. He keeps his cock snug inside your pussy, hands massaging your waist. “Fuck, you really squirted all over me, sweetheart. Messy babygirl.” He chuckles under his breath, running a free hand through his sweaty hair.

“I--I like it when sir a-and daddy get me m-messy though…”

The two incubus share a quiet, yet sinister laugh and through your hazy mind, you can barely catch it.

You feel Joshua starting to maneuver himself so that he’s behind you instead, lifting you up until your back is against his warm chest.

They keep your body sandwiched in between them; Jeonghan’s cock still inside of you when you start to feel their fingers roaming all over your skin.

“How about… we get our cute babygirl even messier, hmm? Would you like that, baby?”Joshua kisses your shoulder as he runs his fingers up and down your torso until he softly ghosts them across your sensitive nipples. “Well?”

“Y---yeah, ah, I--I want s-sir and d-daddy to, mmh, make---make a m-mess…”

A new wave of arousal pours over you, toes curling behind Jeonghan’s back.

“You heard the lady, Joshua. Let’s make a mess~”

[havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong]

Act 2 — Il Dottore pt. 1

'Home,' and 'leadership.' A cowardly Master finds himself in a situation far larger than he could expect -- with only a moment's rest.

A doctor would be perfect, to get his mind off it.

—

“…Who are you?”

The young woman’s eyes stared into mine for a moment, before she took one step — then another, until she were facing us all.

As Ritsuka tried helping up Caster, Mash stepped in front of them preemptively — even though the lady held no weapons, being certain was impossible with all we’d seen.

Cursing myself under my breath for not preparing more casual dress for my allies in advance, I found myself forming a tale off the top of my head — as I jumped up in a moment, stepping in front of the woman to mildly obscure the less human aspects of Gorgon and such — after all, hiding that wasn’t exactly easy, but she couldn’t just enter spirit form now that she was spotted.

“We’re… cosplayers. We came from a Renaissance Fair not far from here, but we got a bit lost and our ride ditched us.”

“…My, what a story.” The woman closed an eye, tapping a finger to her cheek in thought.

“And yet, there hasn’t been any recent Renaissance Fairs about these parts, friend.”

…

…Sh—

“—He calls it that to sound cool. He’s never actually been to a ren’ fair, so we let him off easy. It was a small thing between us and a few other online mutuals, but well. Things went south pretty quick.”

…Thank god for Ritsuka. The other Master came in strong, having seemingly adjusted their form slightly — though I couldn’t quite tell what. Regardless, the orange-haired Master stepped forward beside me, fully blocking off the line of sight for Gorgon’s tail and allowing her to stand with the others. While I could only hope she’d make her tail look artificial too, it was a bit difficult to see how she’d do that.

Even so, the lady laughed softly, and extended a hand.

“Aren’t you both a curious group? My name is… Tessie. Tessie Quin — I’m just an actor around these parts. And you?”

‘…Quin.’ Didn’t that name seem..?

Regardless, I shook her hand carefully — and Ritsuka followed suit, after sparing a glance my way to ensure I wasn’t poisoned or something, probably.

“Nice to meet ya! I’m Ritsuka, and my buddy here is Cadence.”

“And the rest of you?”

“…We’ll, uh, introduce ourselves a bit later. They’re a little hammered, so they’re a little too dedicated to their roles right now.”

A glance from Ritsuka back to our other teammates was all they needed to keep quiet and act the part — Tlazolteotl silently directing the four, alongside Mash, to seem a little bit dazed to keep Ritsuka’s story intact.

“…What an odd brigade indeed. And you said you all were lost, right? In this forest?”

Tessie curiously inquired, after gazing over our group as though double-checking our alibis — raising a finger to the forest’s edges around us, that grew more thick, and harder to see through, especially in the night. Even the moon’s soft light did little to actually illuminate the area.

‘…I’m finding myself counting us lucky for landing in the outskirts.’

As I tried to ignore the hassle of Mash trying to tell Caster not to act hammered as well, I placed my hands into my pockets — so they could ball up, and relieve a bit of stress — and spoke.

“Yeah. We tried to take a shortcut home, but that went pretty bad pretty quick. It turns out a bunch of hammered cosplayers and a baker don’t excel in navigation.”

The lady nodded, though furrowing her brow after a moment.

“…Did you all simultaneously trip or something? When I saw you, all of you were on the ground.”

…Shit.

“—Well, again. A bunch of drunkards aren’t going to excel in balance, either. There was a tree root nearby that set the lot of them off balance.”

“…You seem sober enough.”

…Shit. (Again.)

And yet again, my fellow Master steps in to save my ass. Ritsuka laughed a bit at Quin’s words, leaning back a bit.

“This dude? He’d trip over an ant, let alone an obvious tree root. He’s a baker, but he’s horribly clumsy in the vast outdoors.”

…Quin paused for a moment in thought, before laughing a little bit.

“He certainly seems the type. My… You all really are an interesting group, huh?”

'...Do I really seem like a klutz?' I had to ask myself before preparing to respond -- but then again, I didn't exactly look like the type that could walk a tightrope.

"Something like that."

I finally managed to speak up, as Ritsuka took that as their cue to take the step back.

"As of now, we're looking for a place to stay and catch our bearings. Maybe see some sights here while we're at it."

Doing my best to follow the 'background' Ritsuka laid out, I took each moment in between these sentences to breathe. 'In, and out.'

It was all I could do. As something reached out, as though intent on returning its grasp to my neck as I tried to match Ritsuka's tale, I needed to breathe carefully to scare it off.

"I was thinking, since the lot of us are already here, that we take some time to enjoy it before we head back. Would you know where a hotel or something is?"

Tessie only raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in thought. Her eyes turned upwards, closer to the sky -- as though the stars would spell out where to go.

"On this short notice? That is a lot to ask for."

"That's true, but we do still need to go somewhere. Even if we can find a free room in a ramshackle inn, or something..."

'Ramshackle? What kind of old man am I?'

As I internally chided myself, Tessie's gaze snapped back to the two of us -- and she'd uncross her arms to snap her fingers together.

"I've got it. Come with me, all of you -- I know a place."

--

An hour-long walk placed us on the outskirts of the city. Looking back, I could faintly see the forest we'd come into this Singularity in -- from afar, it certainly had looked rather large, taking up the vast majority of the southern end of this place.

The faint sound of blowing wind moving through the grass of the outskirts proved to be one of the only things that kept this place from utter silence -- despite the light polluting the environment, lighting up the innards of the city even from where we were, not a single sound could be heard.

Even so, however -- no matter how quiet the city was, or how 'normal' its greyish buildings and lamps looked from afar, there was one little caveat that was alerting us to something wrong.

To our left sat a hotel, suspended by chains.

"Here we are! We call it the Float Apartments, but they only have a couple rooms filled. I think you can rent out some of the rooms as you would a hotel."

Tessie's bright voice drew my attention for a moment, watching her point to the 'apartment' as though all were perfectly normal.

True to her words, the place was 'floating.' Despite the flat environment surrounding the city, there seemed to be a chunk of rock hovering impressively high above the ground. Even trying to look for some sleight of hand, something holding that chunk of land above the ground, nothing seemed to show itself -- not even so much as well-placed fishing wire to partially explain what was happening.

The apartment itself didn't hold much answers either. If one ignored its floating qualities, it did only look like a mildly ramshackle, two-story complex, more wide than long -- with off white walls, a tan flat roof, and silver chains placed on its sides to hold it up. While its entrance was at least accessible thanks to a slight hill leading up to its front doors, it seemed just as much hovering as the rock -- though one could assume the rock were holding up this hotel, that seemed about the only thing that could be answered.

And even if it could, one question still remained.

"...Why?"

It took a solid few moments to note that Ritsuka was already preparing themselves to enter -- with Tlazolteotl taking a spare few moments to record something in her notebook, eyeing Tessie carefully, before clamping it shut and following suit.

As for Tessie herself, in response to my question, only smiled.

"The King allowed for a lot more aesthetic design, as of late. Before he vanished, he bestowed upon our Capital some interesting properties!"

'...The King.'

It's not a name I was unfamiliar with -- although Ritsuka froze in the middle of their trip to the entrance, looking back at Tessie with an expression best called 'shock.'

"The what?"

"The King, don't you know? My, I suppose they don't talk much of them outside the province after all. They rule over Canada, and maintain peace."

Ritsuka furrowed their brow, but nodded and kept moving -- gesturing to me, and the others, to follow suit.

Knowing what little I knew about the King, it did explain a small bit -- monarchs in general were subject to strange decisions now and then, and they were no exception. With the magic I'd thus far seen, it hardly seemed out of the question to make that rock float.

With that explanation in mind, I slipped into the Apartments -- followed shortly after by the others.

--

'...It's familiar to me.'

'As the resident Caster, it only makes sense I would know that the floating rock is magic.'

The Caster of Rakugo followed in the steps of Gorgon, passively whispering prayers and spells of 'alteration' to cast an illusion over her tail. To make it seem as though slightly jointed -- while hardly obvious, just the littlest of hinges would make the tail seem far less biological in nature.

Yet, his mind remained on the floating rock. Even a 'king,' surely, wouldn't waste their time empowering a specific rock to float.

...But at the same time, didn't that also make sense? Kings were foolish people -- they weren't dissimilar to lords of the land he knew, both in stories and in his own life. Acts of power, even beneficial ones, were often done just for the hell of it. To send a message.

...He couldn't shake the feeling the magic was familiar to him.

--

The inside of the hotel was remarkable in how unremarkable it was -- especially when it was all too easy to hear the creaking of the chains from the inside. Simple, if dated wooden flooring, with off-white walls and wooden baseboards stained to a slightly dark brown. As I took further steps in, weak wall-mounted lamps illuminated the shopkeep -- a golden-eyed, golden-haired man with a wide smile on his face, waving to us as we walked in.

"Why hello there! It's rare we see someone come in unless they have to, let alone... so many of you."

The receptionist's calm voice was almost enough to steady my nerves -- most likely, he was already well aware of the atmosphere the hotel set for itself, though his best attempts weren't quite enough to shake the awful feelings the literal chains creaking were putting in place.

A glance to my right saw Ritsuka shoot forward just as Morgan furrowed her brow and began to walk to the man -- taking over before the queen even had a chance to say anything.

"Well, times are a little rough. We got pretty lost on our way back from a friendly mini-Renaissance fair, and the fact a fair few of us aren't quite sober isn't helping. Me and my buddy are about the only ones who stayed above the table, but..."

As Morgan breathed out softly -- with Kagekiyo elbowing her gently -- the queen stepped back a bit.

The receptionist nodded after mulling over Ritsuka's tale for a moment, sliding to a small outdated computer monitor -- likely to start logging rooms for us to borrow.

"Well, don't worry too much about it. I'm just gonna assume you're dead broke, right?"

Ritsuka paused for a moment, but then relaxed their shoulders and continued.

"Yeah, just about. Unless you'd count a couple yen."

...Ritsuka sputtered, after a moment.

"--I'd forgot to exchange that for canadian money."

'Nice save, buddy.'

The receptionist didn't seem too bothered, laughing it off before making a few last clicks -- and, rummaging under the table, passed myself and Ritsuka a key, and attempted to hand a key to the others as well - before being met with a collective 'I'll pass.'

...Save Caster, who was for all intents and purposes a minor, and one could only assume the receptionist wasn't keen on having the little guy hold up a room.

"...Only two rooms? You have, what, eight people? Can you..?"

Ritsuka interrupted the receptionist with what could best be described as 'the cheekiest wink ever conceived by man,' before taking a step back. The receptionist, while briefly caught off guard, responded in tune with a wide grin - and, sending an equally cheeky wink my way, pointed down the left wing of the apartment.

"Your room should be that way, friend. It's got some extra room, comparatively."

...I could only whisper out a flustered 'thank you' before slipping off into the hallway, only catching the receptionist escorting Ritsuka into the rightmost wind before I came across my door.

'...Room 103.'

...I breathed out, and opened the door.

--

A car speeds down the Carcosan highways.

An ambulance, without its hazards on.

One could hear the equipment moving about, sliding about what one could presume to be closed cabinets, if they were to listen closely as it shot past them.

In its driver's seat --

A man, clad in black -- a large, flowing cape with a black exterior and purple interior. Remarkably poofy black sleeves, and a baggy black button-up shirt. Even their pants, boots, the feathered cap they wore -- all were completely black. Their hair, forced into the massive hat, wasn't visible at all.

And their mask -- black, covering the upper half of their face, a mustache attached to the bottom of the mask's 'nose.' The only highlights, of course, were rosy-red paint on its 'cheeks.'

A doctor by trade. A doctor they were -- on the case to find someone who they knew needed their help.

Their locket bounced on their chest, as they ran over a speed bump. Sparing a glance behind them, the doctor would smile -- looking over their tools of the trade.

Scalpel? Check.

Basic Medicine Cabinet? Check.

Tourniquet material? Check.

Wrench? Check.

Certainly -- they would help them now.

--

The room was, yet again, remarkably unremarkable.

The floorboards creaked as I stepped on them, the sound of the chains thankfully more distant than before.

In the moonlight, only a shoddy desk lamp and the worn room light could illuminate this temporary home -- a warm, yellow glow illuminating just enough to at least see what needed to be seen, even if the corners of the room still remained dark.

'...It's almost nostalgic.'

As 'edgy' as it sounded, it felt more homely than the Chaldea base. The poor lighting, the soft moonlight, and the creaking of the floorboards reminded me of my old home in Toronto.

A bit cheap, certainly -- but it was home.

Though, there was one major difference, now.

"...Husband."

A commandeering voice, coming from the door, but one that didn't wait for a response.

The door opened quickly, revealing a familiar white-haired woman in a black-and-blue dress. She made some haste in settling herself on the first of two beds -- the one closest to the window, of course -- sitting down and staring me down with those ever-chilling blue eyes.

"...Tlazolteotl has asked the others to do something for her."

After a moment passed, I nodded, taking a seat beside her on this bed -- though her gaze didn't move at all from me.

"Did you get out of it, or something?"

At that, Morgan chuckled slightly -- adjusting herself to better face me, closing her eyes for a moment as though in thought.

"A ruler needs her spare time, husband. If I am to rule England, the first mistake is overworking oneself."

...Biting my tongue as to not note that she hadn't done much in the singularity yet, I instead moved on.

"...And you're spending the time cooped up here?"

"Someone should stay with you, no? You hardly keep well when you're alone for too long."

'...Did she have to be so blunt?' Even with that, I laughed a bit to clear my nerves, my hands locking together, fidgeting with my thumbs.

"...I suppose so. Even so, isn't t-"

"--Silence. You wouldn't question the acts of a perfect ruler, would you?"

...I'd nod, breathing a sigh out. Those words of hers never ceased to be truly blunt -- rarely ever focused on anything apart from the inevitable rule of Britain.

Even so, to say that was the only motive was...

...

"...Morgan?"

"What do you need of me? Have you finally worked up the courage to allow me to call you 'H--"

"--Not quite!"

Cutting her off at speeds that shocked even myself, I'd forced myself to continue before she could think up anything else that I'd need to prepare my heart for.

"...How would I help you rule Britain?"

...I couldn't help but be curious -- to ask, with the two of us alone.

"...I ask genuinely, Morgan. I'm... not a hero, nor am I a ruler."

...The ruler raised an eyebrow -- but still, she paused. To give a decent answer.

...Even so, after a moment, she'd furrow her brow -- reaching an arm around me...

...And pulling me onto my side, before I could even react, my head falling into her lap. The Queen only smirked as I tried to process this momentary act -- her gaze remaining, down upon me like a laser beam piercing through my eyes, into somewhere deeper.

"...Don't think about those things, Husband."

...

"My actions are all for the rule of Britain. Such things come before all else. A hero, a ruler, cannot by themselves understand their subjects."

...I blinked, trying for a moment longer to try and figure out just what she was implying -- but she spoke up yet again, as though timed to derail my thoughts.

"...A ruler mustn't overwork themselves, and they cannot always be alone. I choose those who I prefer, to be near me, so I may rule more properly. It need not be more complex than that."

...I breathed a sigh out, once more. It only seemed ever clearer to me that a straight answer from a Berserker wouldn't be possible to begin with.

"...Rest, husband."

"Shouldn't you be the one resting, in that case?"

"...A ruler, even while taking a break, should not shirk what duties they have. It is relaxing enough to be here."

...The Berserker smiled, after a moment -- and, giving up the fight, I'd simply nod my thanks, and close my eyes, just for a moment.

--

'...How would I help you rule Britain?'

A curious question indeed. The Berserker furrowed her brow, running a hand through her Master's hair.

Certainly, on paper, a mere 'person' like Cadence would make for a very poor king. Cowardly, reserved, unwilling to take risks -- paranoid, and easy to get worried.

And yet...

"...Set aside your differences. Don't you dare cause any fights right now, and... Don't let him worry about the small stuff."

...The words of the Mesoamerican goddess troubled Morgan greatly. This man, one she was willing to rule with, was now being prevented from hearing what matters a ruler should know. She had to allow Cadence to forget the worries that should come with being a king -- she had to let him rest.

"If all goes well, we can discuss all of these things after the Singularity. But not before."

...She supposed the Carcosan Singularity was an obstacle to her rule, regardless. Reasoning with herself, the Madness that gripped her mind, she came to the 'natural' conclusion -- that this was a kingly duty, and one she had to aid.

...

...She kept her gaze on him -- not letting up, save only to blink.

As though he'd disappear if she looked away.

--

My eyes slowly opened to the sound of sirens -- as someone's hand gently shook my arm to awake me.

"Husband. Tlazolteotl is calling your name."

"...Huh?"

After a moment, I slowly lifted my head off of Morgan's lap, standing up and pinching my cheek momentarily to try and get myself ready.

"CADENCE! QUICKLY!"

The familiar voice of Tlaz, however, proved to be what spurred my mind to move -- as Morgan opened the door, glancing behind her as to not trip on anything, I ran out, and turned left--

--directly into a masked man clad in black, who quickly took hold of my hood, and began running, dropping some sort of mask on the way out.

"Who-- Who are you?!"

"A roaming doctor, child! And I had heard pray tell of an injured man this way! Falling in a forest is a prime indicator of a stressed mind!"

Footsteps could be heard behind me -- with a spare glance back, before the man forcibly pulled me, it seemed to be Morgan.

"--Come back here, you damned..!"

--Yet, the doctor forcibly held me up behind him, now running backwards, as they entered the lobby. Without the receptionist that was there prior --

--The doctor forced himself out the door, with Morgan hot on the trail, yet she found herself caught in a moment's time.

By a knife, suddenly before her -- that she only just managed to avoid.

"...Is that..?!"

With every step forward, another knife she only barely dodged -- setting her on her heels, backpedalling to regain her balance.

Despite her gaze being locked on the doctor, despite every step she took forward, it seemed -- just as suddenly -- like her body began to force itself to avoid that blade, that materialized in the air, and dematerialized just as quickly.

In my helpless state, stuck watching the ruler be caught in a loop of avoiding the same blade, I found the tunnel vision obscured the ambulance doors that now shut in front of me.

...

...The lights turned on.

Around me -- motor oil, gears, pistons. Motors connected to various power sources -- even weapons, attached to mechanical structures that hardly made sense even to me.

In a moment, before I could even comprehend what I was thrown onto, clasps on the ambulance's 'bed' locked me in -- and judging from the sudden speed increase I could feel, the ambulance was already well on its way.

As I blinked to try and get a hold of my surroundings, the masked man that took me finally came into view -- my peripherals returning, despite the adrenaline still running through me.

"Good, good! The hardest part is handled. Now, dear patient, you do understand that stress takes a toll on the mind, right?"

Even as he spoke, I tried to pull against the restraints -- but, of course, no dice.

"I'll take that resistance as a 'no.' You should know that if your brain is stationary too long, stress begins to build. That, truly, does not bode well for you."

...Another pull against the restraints -- but I froze, momentarily, as he spoke. 'What the hell is he talking about..?'

"Now, dear patient, I have to check for indicators of stress in the brain. I've done this before, rest assured!"

The man walked to my left -- his hands rummaging through what sounded like a duffle bag.

"All I had to do was go into my patient's skull and find the parts of the brain that were stressed -- and deal with them."

...The man turned around, holding two splintered wooden stakes, as though ripped straight from fresh lumber.

"Of course, the pros -- unwilling to accept the fact that you should 'rest your brain,' or cut off the stress in your life -- voided my medical license! But it hardly matters now, does it? After all, I did get a medical license, so who cares if I lost it?"

'What does he..?'

The man stepped to his right, and procured some sort of metal slab -- crafted into something akin to a cut sphere, as though a third of it had been cut out -- and wire had been placed at its end, running downwards.

"Now, rest assured, patient -- I'll be making sure you must only do this once. Because I have a permanent solution to stress, and it beats simply resting your mind and returning it after."

...Something gripped my throat, at that moment -- siphoning my breath from my lungs.

The man smiled, positioning a stake in each hand -- and stepping forward, leaning over me from the right.

"Keep your eyes open, dear patient. Hurts less that way."

The man laughed a moment, as though just preparing a filling, positioning the stakes --

I'm finding myself unable to breathe, all of a sudden. Those wooden things, suddenly above me -- their sharp, splintered edges lowering themselves down...

The cold, sharp hands tear at my spine, my lungs. I shudder, unable to move -- a clasp around my neck secures my head in place.

The man in the mask smiles.

"The brain is ultimately just a biological computer. A very fragile one, however - weak to age, disease, and stress alike. It needs breaks. But it is still a computer."

Another clamp. My eyelids are forced back. My breath quickens, but I'm getting no air.

The hold of the beast is tearing holes in my lungs. I breathe, and it isn't enough.

I can't even speak -- not enough to use the Command Spells. And as the knife had stopped even the Queen, surely...

"A computer can be replicated if you know enough about computers. A perfect computer, that isn't harmed by stress nor by misery. You can simply remove those feelings."

He takes a moment, glancing from the 'brain' to me.

"No matter what, if the data is copied properly, you will believe you are 'you' -- even if your brain is fake."

...He leans over me, smiling. In a moment, he stared deep into my pupils --

"Isn't technology amazing?"

--and the stakes suddenly fall.

[lianneoelke]

The Vancouver Island & Sunshine Coast Loop: A Solo Cycle Tour of BC’s Finest Retirement Communities. Part 2

Day 4: I hit the road at 7am. A quick ride on the Trans Canada woke me up and brought me to my daily bakery stop.

Serious Coffee for Serious Cyclists.

After second breakfast, I only had to follow one road: the 19A. With wide shoulders and no navigation required, I made good time up the coast. It would have been top notch riding if it wasn’t for the EXCESSIVE WIND that blew all day for NO REASON AT ALL. 

The best views were at Union Bay, where I slowed down a little too much until I realized the ferry I wanted to catch was coming up soon. I gunned it the last 25km to Comox, which was, shockingly, FULL OF HILLS. I gave up on my granny gear zen and let my rage carry me to the ferry terminal, where I caught the 3:25 just in time. The wind refused to chill out so I sat inside and charged my phone while I watched the white caps dance on the ocean.

Once I landed in Powell River it was only a few minutes to the campsite. After 113km my legs once again felt perfectly normal, which was weird. Sitting on a bike saddle, however, was deeply uncomfortable. I decided to walk the 3km to Townsite Brewing, stopping to gorge on veggie korma and stuffed potato naan on the way. 

I didn’t have room for another beer but I drank it anyway because I had biked HUNDREDS OF KILOMETERS to get there. 

I met this beautiful cat on the way back to the campsite, where I quickly fell asleep.

Day 5 began with gear sorting. It seemed like a lot.

I was a bit apprehensive about biking on the Sunshine Coast as I heard it was even hillier than Vancouver Island, but if the family camping next to me could bike to Lund from Powell River with a trailer and a young kid, there's no reason Gavin and I couldn't. The hills were very present, but still doable. I only had 27km to go, and I would have enjoyed the long decent into Lund if I knew I wouldn't have to climb back up eventually.

Lund was a tiny, bustling hub. I was surprised at the size of the grocery and liquor store (also surprised there was a liquor store at all). The store didn’t have much fresh produce, but I can live off beans, chips, and hot dogs for DAYS, thank you very much. Next I headed to Nancy's Bakery for a couple sandos and one of their famous blackberry cinnamon buns (which I'd been thinking about since the last time I was there, two years ago). I found a patio spot next to an outlet and gave my phone one last top up, because I couldn’t count on charging anything on Savary Island. With a couple hours before my water taxi reservation, I found myself on my own with nothing to do, which hadn't happened yet on the trip. I decided to call my parents and tell them what I was doing. I promised my mom I’d write a blog post so I could share some photos (hi, mom!). It was bizzy on Savary Island: rubbermaids, bags, boxes of booze, bikes, and a line of trucks lined up the dock. The people quickly dispersed into various homes, cabins, guest houses, resorts, and moss covered trailers. I went up the hill (no matter where I went, it was up a hill) to the campground: a loose scattering of wooden tent pads on some guy’s property. The owner told me “There is no check in. You just find a site that looks good and settle in.” Cool.

Of course the only rain I saw on the trip happened as soon as I arrived at a sub-tropical island. I expected to have a nap ASAP, but instead opted for a cold shower and laundry in the sink. I couldn’t fully clean my smelly bike shorts with Camp Suds; I could only make them slightly less smelly. 

Savary is a long, skinny island filled with lush rainforest and edged with white sandy beaches. After a comfortable and pitch black night, I was up at a decent hour. Day 6 was my rest day, which meant biking without all my gear. My legs felt overqualified for the 8km rip across the island and back. 

It was Gavin’s rest day, too. 

After a big brunch scramble and a hot dog, I headed to the beach, which was just as sunny and glorious as I imagined. I took a dip in the ocean, read, ate a bag of chips and a hot dog. When I ran out of food I went back to my camp and made an underwhelming dinner of overcooked veggies and terrible instant mashed potatoes with a hot dog. 

One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It’s about a girl growing up in a survivalist, ultra conservative, and unsafe family fighting for education, despite never setting foot in a classroom until the age of 17. I left my copy at a community library on Savary. Feel free to go get it. On day 7 I caught the morning water taxi back to Lund, then made one more stop at Nancy's before tackling the 3km uphill. It was overcast and muggy. Sweaty and grimy. The ride to Powell River was quick though, and I treated myself to a Buddha bowl and cold beer for lunch. 

It was another 27km to Saltery Bay...

... which was an exceptionally beautiful provincial park.

Of course the campground attendant came to collect fees while I was in the middle of washing myself from a pot.

I felt resourceful that day. Like I belonged out there. It was the little things, like seeing the cycle route sign even though I didn’t see any other cyclists, collecting large rocks to hold my tent down because the ground was too hard for stakes, or improvising a bear hang because the campground didn’t have a bear proof locker for cyclists (get it together, Saltery). Part of me still feels like the kid who spends all her time reading, watching LOTR EE marathons, and making pizza at Panago for $6 an hour. I never grew up thinking of myself as athletic or woodsy, and compared to many people I'm not, but it's about time I realize I can do this on my own. And that I love it.

Day 8 began with a serene ferry ride to Earl's Cove. Out of the entire trip, I was the most nervous about the upcoming ride from Earl's to Sechelt. I knew it would be windy, narrow, and steep, and I didn’t want to end up schmucked on the side of the 101 because some yahoo hauling a yacht, four kayaks, and a dozen mountain bikes couldn't be bothered to slow down on a blind corner. But at this point I had 500km of experience, a bag of Sour Cherry Blasters, and my screaming pink cycling jersey to get through the day safely. It was relatively quiet early Wednesday morning, and the beautiful ride turned out to be one of my favourite sections.

I took a detour on Redrooffs Road after Half Moon Bay to get off the highway for a bit. It was scenic enough, but the elevation was stupid. I hadn’t walked Gavin up that many hills since Thetis Lake Regional Park. Things started to go downhill from there. Metaphorically of course, as the hills only went up. 

Traffic volume started to increase at Sechelt, where I stopped for candy. The Cherry Blasters picked me right up, but not even a sugar rush can hold off eight days of fatigue indefinitely. The last few kilometers to Gibsons weren't exactly painful, but they were not pleasant. My faith in Google Maps’ elevation estimates might never recover. My bike chain was dry and squeaking, but I thought if I could just make it to my destination and offload my gear I could zip back into town and find a bike shop and get some lubricant. In reality, once I finally arrived at Mike's place, after 83km and over 1400m of elevation gain, I couldn't bring myself to take the hill down into Gibsons again. "Can olive oil work on bike chains" is not my proudest Google search, but weary, smelly, and perpetually damp cyclists are nothing if not humble. And the answer is no, not really, but olive oil is better than nothing.

Thankfully Persephone Brewing was within walking distance. My healing began with an order of spring rolls and a rye farmhouse ale.

That evening, as I settled in to my tent, I heard the soft whisper of my couch back at home. The call of the bahn mis at Chickpea that Brian said were amazing. The whinny of my stupidly sensitive horse on Red Dead Redemption 2 Online. The sweet yet powerful purr of Alley Cat, my gentle golden nugget. I was a two hour ride away from completing the biggest physical achievement of my life. A year ago running 5k was a stretch, and biking 11km to Richmond was a chore. I wanted to do an ambitious cycle tour to see if I could. And I can. There’s nothing particularly special about me, or most people, but that doesn’t have to stop us from getting shit done. 

Day 9 was a quick ride down to the ferry, then a hilly ride through West Van on Marine Drive. Once I hit the Lions Gate Bridge, I knew I was home free.

Coming home after 9 days and 590km of a door-to-door solo cycle tour was incredibly satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing my number one precious sweet potato again! 

This sweet pup is my number two. 

Maybe one day I’ll do a proper Google Maps route but this is the general idea.

Highlight(s): the views on Salt Spring, Sokka’s beautiful kitten face, the ride up from Nanaimo, the white sandy beaches at Savary, the peaceful ferry ride from Saltery, the surprisingly doable hills after Earl's Cove, the pics of my niece and nephew smiling on their first day back at school, the beers and food at Persephone, the moment I realized that I absolutely crushed every part of my ambitious plan. Lowlight: Thetis Lake Regional Park. Gold star: Gavin. This humble, unassuming, steel frame hybrid has been a true star, solid and dependable. I love this bike. I love what we can do together. Runner up: The weather. Almost perfect. Runner up: My legs. You know what you did.

[fuse2dx]

June '20

Trials of Mana

Maybe not the highest profile remake Square-Enix have put out in recent memory, but one that was pretty exciting for me. I played a fan translation of the Super Famicom original some 20 years ago, so while it's not particularly fresh in my head, there's just enough there to enjoy some infrequent little pangs of nostalgia. The move to 3D has made for some welcome changes to to combat - jumping adds a vertical element to combat that wasn't present before, and enemy specials being clearly telegraphed and avoidable puts a little more control in your hands. There's still a good amount of 16 bit jank though - combo timing feels unreliable, the camera's often a pain, there's plenty of questionable hit detection, and you definitely wouldn't want to leave your fate solely in the hands of your party's AI. Willing to put most of this aside, what actually mattered more to me was that it still had the kind of playful, breezy nature, it looks and plays nicely, and that it progresses at a nice clip. Party selection will change the way you fight moment-to-moment, but only provides minor and very brief deviance from the main storyline, most of which is the kind of schlocky cartoon villainy that will have you looking for a skip button before it would illicit any kind of emotional response. But you know what? Overall, I still enjoyed it a lot.

So while it may not be revolutionising the action RPG, what it does show is that Square-Enix is capable of acknowledging their history of previously untranslated works, and that they also now have a pretty good template for getting a B-tier remake of such titles out in a reasonable timeframe. Where do I send my wish list in to, team?

Sayonara Wild Hearts

As a one-liner found on the back of the box, 'A pop album video game' is about as on-the-nose as it gets. The old "it's not for everyone" adage is definitely applicable, and its defiance of traditional video game metrics is not in any way subtle. How sophisticated is the gameplay? Not particularly. How long is it? Not very. But how does it make you feel? Now you're talking. It presents a simple but deeply relatable story of a broken heart, and leads from there with a catchy tune into a fast and colourful onslaught of new ideas, perspectives, and concepts. That is to say: it has the potential to make you feel all kinds of things. 

One especially celebratory note was how well the game is structured to fit into the album structure it boasts about. Stages flow quickly into one another, and while shorter, more compounding numbers are often about introducing new ideas and themes, moving on to the next is a few simple button presses and a brief, well-hidden loading window away. Inevitably there are more standout stages, those that feel like the hit singles; the longer, verse-chorus-verse type joints that grant the space for more fleshed out visual story telling, and that smartly synchronise their percussive hits, soaring vocals and the like to appropriate beats of play. A lot of the gameplay can easily (and cynically) be reduced to "it's an endless runner", but to liken this to a cheap re-skin of a confirmed hit-maker is to wilfully dismiss so much of what it does better and so much beside. You can play it on damn near everything, and for the time it takes, it's well worth doing. 

Twinkle Star Sprites

I've meant to play this countless times before. I've almost certainly passed it by while strolling through arcades, the Saturn version has never been hoovered up into my collection, and the PS2 collection this particular version belongs to - ADK Damashii - is no longer a cheap addition to anyone's library. The digital version of it for PS4 however was however recently on sale at a point that saw me receive change from a fiver. David Dickinson would be proud.

Having now credit-fed my way through the game's brief arcade mode, there's no doubt in my mind that the nuance of its systems are going to be glossed over in this rather ham-fisted appraisal. At least at face value, there's plenty of character and charm to appreciate in its colourful and cutesy style. As a two-player, vertically split-screen title, its a pretty clean break from a lot of a shooter's typical characteristics - rather than 6(ish) stages of hell, its a series of one on one battles - and all the better suited to 2 players for it. As enemy waves come at you, taking them out in chains can generate attacks to the other player; however if these attacks are too small then it's entirely possible they'll be killed off again, and an even bigger attack will come straight back at you. Think of a bit like competitive Tetris, but with shooting rather than puzzling. It's a neat and curious little game, that's likely best experienced properly, with a friend on the other side of the sofa to hurl abuse at. 

Blasphemous

Let's get the lazy-but-effective description out of the way: it's a 2D MetroidVania Souls-like. You've got "that" type of map, definitely-not-bonfires and definitely-not-Estus Flasks. You are encouraged to return to your body upon death, the combat system is very reliant on parries and dodge-rolls, and there's even a dedicated "lore" button to use on every item you pick up. 

While this likely sounds dismissive, it's more about addressing the elephant in the room. To give some context, these are both types of games that I love, and the end product here has done a pretty good job of bringing them together. The exploration is pleasantly open - gatekeeping is typically done less by specific items and abilities, and more by just which areas you're brave enough to poke your head into. It's a little bit of a shame that most of the new abilities have to be switched out for others rather than adding to a core arsenal of moves, but at the same time its base setup gives you plenty of ways to deal with any number of combat scenarios. This is of course best demonstrated by the boss encounters, which are wonderful affairs - big, gruesome, thoughtful variations on approaches to combat, which drop in at a nice pace to keep you from ever getting too cocky. The theming in general is wonderful, and the name is certainly appropriate - there's a lot of deep catholic inspiration in its gorgeous backdrops and environments, but then layered on top are some chilling elements of religious iconography, along with a cast of disturbing devotees and martyrs to sufficiently unsettle you. It's arguably a small intersection of the gaming population that it'll appeal to, but if you're in there, it's a real treat.

Death Come True

The first thing you see upon starting is the game's central character breaking right through the fourth wall to tell you directly not to stream the game or to share anything that might spoil the story. The first rule of Death Come True, and so on. I consider myself fairly well versed in such etiquette, so to then have the screenshot function entirely disabled for the whole game felt a little like being given a slap on the wrists for a crime I had no intention of committing. I don't envy the team trying to market it, that's for sure. 

The reasoning behind this is clear at least - it's a game that is in total service of its plot. Consider a mash-up of a 'Choose your own adventure' book and a series of full-motion videos, and you're mostly there. Unless you were to walk away from the controller or perhaps fall asleep, there seems very little chance that your play time will deviate from the 3 hour estimate - which will certainly put some people off, but is understandable given the production values, and personally, quite welcome in the first place. In terms of replay value, there are branching paths that a single route will obviously skip: as an example of this, in looking up a screenshot to use in lieu of taking my own, I found a promotional image of the central cast, only to not recognise one of them at all. One thing that such a short run-time does ensure though, is that minute-for-minute, there's plenty of action; without wanting to speak about the story itself (rather than in fear of reprise for doing so, I might add), it kicks off with plenty of intrigue, shortly thereafter switching to full-on action, and then strikes a pretty fine balancing act between the two for its run time. It doesn't get quite as deep or as complex as I would've hoped given the team's pedigree, but I do like it, and think it'd actually be a pretty fun title to play with folks who normally don't concern themselves with games. By the same token, it's probably not for the 'hardcore' types looking for something to string out over dozens of hours. 

Persona 5: Dancing in Starlight 

After the generous main course that was Persona 5 Royal, I figured that I'd follow up with dessert. I did however wait until a weekend where I knew my girlfriend would be away, so as not to trigger any unpleasant flashbacks to looped battle themes, and the chirpy, indecipherable voices of Japanese schoolkids that made it so painful to endure as a non-gaming cohabitant.  

Immediately, it's clear that very little has changed since Persona 4's take on the rhythm action genre. The core game, while still functional and fairly enjoyable, hasn't changed a lick. Perhaps the most notable improvement to the package as a whole is in scaling back on a dedicated story mode, and instead just having a series of uninspired but far less time-consuming set of social link scenes that pad things out. The biggest flaw is repeated wholesale though, in that trying to stretch out noteworthy tracks from a single game's playlist into a dedicated music game leads to repetition - and there is a much less prolific gathering of artists involved in remixes this time. I'd be willing to wager that it's a very similar story once again with Persona 3: Dancing in Moonlight, but I'm not about to ruin a perfectly good dinner to start with the sweet just to find out, if you'll excuse a second outing of the metaphor. Still, again compare these to Theatrhythm though - where Square-Enix plundered the Final Fantasy series in its entirety, along with spin-offs and other standalone titles to put together a library of music worthy for the one single game. Cobble the tunes from Personas 3-5 together into one game, and you're still coming up very short by comparison.

[axelsagewrites]

James Potter*Highly Doubtful

A/N: I'm sorry it was late, again. I've got the week off so I'm going to write back up posts so it hopefully won't happen again/for a while. Also, I made it longer than usual to make up for it being late.

Set in marauders and readers 5th year. (Age 15-16)

If your female the bold applies to you. If your male the italics apply to you. If your neither you can pick which applies to you.

(N/T/S/L/Y) = Name that sounds like yours

What is it they say? Opposites attract. Maybe that's why school socialite and Mr popular James Potter fancied (Y/N) (Y/L/N). they were shy, quiet, and stayed out of all social events.

They shared classes together but never a word. In fact, he wasn't sure he heard them say anything but "Present" when the teacher took the register.

Normally quiet or awkward kids got picked on, but it seemed like no one noticed (Y/N) enough to pick on them. James was glad and upset about that at the same time. Even his friends didn't notice them. Again, James was glad and upset about that since it meant Sirius wouldn't hit on them but it also meant he had even less of a reason to talk to them.

James sat in charms with his usual friend group and set up, Sirius next to him winking at girls and cracking jokes, Remus behind Sirius taking a few notes but mostly talking to, Peter who was behind him doodling on his parchment, and himself, his feet propped on the desk, laughing at some joke.

They always sat at the very back of class unless the teacher moved them. Flitwick was chill since he realized they all were still passing, and it was easier to have a mini chaos corner than spread them out to divide and conquer the class with jokes and pranks. He only ever reprimanded them if they laughed a bit loud.

The conversation fell into an inevitable lull as Sirius swapped notes, Remus picked up a book, and Peter tried to finish his doodle of their Animagus's that wasn't that bad. Who knew he could draw?

James' eyes scanned the classroom looking for something to hold his interest. His eyes fell on them again, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), lazily taking notes and looking as uninterested as most of the class. They were doing a theory lesson on water charms, so no one really cared.

The difference was that they weren't talking to anyone. Everyone else either was talking to a friend or were a nerd and were furiously taking notes.

He didn't even care if he got caught staring. Eventually, he did. Their eyes flickered over but James didn't look away, he smiled at them. They gave a tight-lipped smile back.

His attention was drawn back to his friends when he heard Remus hit Sirius in the back of the head with a book.

James put his small interaction with (Y/N) out of his head as best he could. However, at dinner, his plans failed as when all the students bustled in for dinner Sirius nudged him too hard resulting in him bumping into someone.

He glared at Sirius but turned to see who he'd knocked. (Y/N) stood beside him and he was shocked. He managed to force out a "Sorry," without sounding too weird.

They shrugged "Its okay,"

Before James could reply Sirius was dragging him to make sure they got their seats. James would admit he was shallow and was only really interested in (Y/N)'s looks but their voice was heavenly. But he couldn't even share his thought with his friends who had no idea who they were.

"Right so tonight theirs this party so Remus, no holy jumpers," Sirius sent his friend a pointed look.

Remus rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

"What party?" Peter asked before shoveling mashed potatoes in his mouth.

At least he closed his mouth. Through half a mouth full of steak Sirius replied: "Apparently 7th years are having a party in the room of requirement and we are crashing."

"But we're 5th year. How do you plan on getting in? In fact, how did you even find out?" Remus asked.

Sirius grinned "That's for me to know and you to find out,"

James looked at Sirius before turning to his other friends "He overheard some 7th year talking about it and they said he could go so they didn't get ratted out,"

"You ruin all my fun!"

As usual Sirius and James fused over outfits. James didn't deny he liked to look good. Hair like this takes effort to look so effortless. Remus shoved on some random clothes only for Sirius to give him an outfit to change into. Peter on the other hand just asked James.

Sirius was in black ripped jeans, muggle band shirt, and leather jacket. Remus was forced into a non-holy black jumper, grey jeans, and silver chain necklace. Peter, as per James suggestion, was wearing a black shirt, white waistcoat, and black jeans. And finally James was wearing black jeans, sneakers, and a blue denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up.

They 5th years snuck out of the tower with ease and made their way into one of the secret passageways, Peter holding the marauder's map. "Are you sure I look okay? I've never worn a waistcoat to a party," Peter asked the group.

"You look fine wormtail," Remus rolled his eyes. "What is it with you lot and clothes?"

James smacked Remus's shoulder, "You look great. Just roll up your shirt sleeves and you'll be fine," He did as he was told.

"I still think you should've gone with the leather jacket but yeah you look fine," James glared at Sirius.

Eventually, they made it to the party and with disapproving looks from the 7th years got in without a snag.

You could tell the 7th years hated them as they walked through the party. Sirius turned to a group of girls looking at them, "Ladies," he said. They scoffed and walked away.

Remus rolled his eyes, "Wanna try to find the snacks?"

"Wanna try to find the drink?" James countered.

They all knew the 7th years would hate them but the good thing about 7th years was that most of them were of age to drink.

the marauders stuck together at the party, laughing over stupid jokes as they drank, probably too much, fire whiskey. As they were laughing James stopped suddenly. Amongst the crowd, he'd sawn (Y/N).

Impossible. He told himself. Theirs no way.

But alas the crowd moved again and he got another glimpse of them. He'd thought they were cute before but damn. He'd only ever saw them in school uniform but now they wore an ac/dc shirt tucked into a somewhat short leather skirt. A mostly unbuttoned flannel shirt with black skinny jeans that showed off his ass.

James couldn't help his stare. "Whatcha looking at?" Sirius shouted in his ear. He flinched and turned to his friend but before he could say anything Sirius saw (Y/N). "Damn! Go talk to them,"

His other friends turned to see what was going on. Remus squinted "Is that (Y/N)?"

"You know them?" James asked,

He shrugged "Seen them about. What are they doing here though?"

"Dunno," James replied.

Sirius downed his drink and slammed the cup down "Well let's go find out,"

James didn't have a chance to stop him before he got lost in the crowd. James rushed after him, their other friends following. Sirius was a man on a mission though and before he could stop him he threw an arm around (Y/N) shoulder.

They flinched and moved, shrugging Sirius's arm off. The 7th years they'd been talking to looked confused. "You know him?" They asked.

(Y/N) looked in between the marauders and their friends "Not really. What are you are doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" You could hear the alcohol in Sirius's breath. "You don't have friends," James smacked his friends head. "It's true!" Sirius defended himself.

(Y/N) scoffed at them "Get the fuck out of my party," They said before storming off.

A couple of the 7th years followed them. One of the others, a guy who looked like he should have graduated a couple years ago and was kinda terrifying turned to them, "Way to ruin (Y/N)'s birthday do."

The marauders screwed their eyes shut, ready for a punch. When nothing happened they opened their eyes to see the 7th year had left. One of the other students chimed in "Woah. 5th years really are pathetic,"

"(N/T/S/L/Y) is a 5th year too," Sirius defended himself. James felt his heart clench when Sirius didn't get their name right.

"(Y/N)," the 7th year corrected him, "Is one of us,"

The Marauders weren't kicked out per say but they could all tell Sirius was too drunk to be here. James was disappointed when he could see (Y/N) as they were leaving.

The next day the marauders were kinda hungover and not very happy. Remus because he realized his jumper had a stain on it, Peter because he heard some 7th-year girl make fun of him, Sirius because he didn't make out with anyone, and James because of (Y/N).

At breakfast, it was mostly silent. Sirius decided he didn't like it and kept trying to talk about last night. "You know I think that 7th-year girl liked me," no one replied so he continued "Plus they all totally dug my leather jacket. I'm pretty sure-"

"Will you shut up!?" James snapped. A few people around them looked over curiously "Can you all get your own life?" They looked away. James poked at his eggs.

"Calm down buddy. No need to be such an ass," Sirius said.

James slammed his fork down "Really? I was just taking lessons from you,"

Now even Remus and Peter were confused, "What's up Ja-"

"Last night. You just had to be so rude to everyone. Its one thing joking and annoying some random 7th years but did you really need to insult (Y/N)? And get their name wrong?"

Sirius looked confused "Why do you care? Do you like them or something?"

"You know what? Doesn't matter. I'm just hungover. It's fine."

The guys nodded but didn't believe him. "I'll apologize next time I see them," Sirius said. James nodded but said nothing and ate his eggs.

They had charms before break and as they walked in James realized (Y/N) wasn't in yet. Halfway into the period they walked in and took their seat silently. Flitwick waited till everyone was working to walk over to (Y/N) but James couldn't make out what was being said.

As they packed up near the end of the period James tapped Sirius' shoulder and nodded to the other side of the room. He sighed but nodded in response upon seeing (Y/N).

Since it was broken most people rushed out the class, even Flitwick, and the marauders waited outside the class for (Y/N) to walk out.

"Hey! (Y/N), wait up," Sirius said as they went to leave.

They turned to see the marauders, groaned and sped up. Sirius jogged to catch up, forcing them to do the same. "We-I" he corrected himself when Remus coughed "Wanted to apologize."

"Whatever look," they stopped and turned to them "Its whatever. You don't tell people I was there and I'll tell the 7th years to cancel the revenge-"

"What?"

"-Deal?"

The boys looked at each other and nodded "Deal," Sirius said.

"Happy birthday by the way," Remus said. They nodded and went to walk away.

Sirius cannot take a hint, "Why do you only hang with 7th years?"

They sighed and turned around "Because our year is filled with people like you lot," This time they walked away with no issue.

James couldn't help but feel crushed. You lot. They didn't like him. His friends noticed his moping and called him out at dinner "Right what's up?"

"Nothing." He shrugged.

"Is this about (Y/N)?" Peter asked "Because Sirius apologized and I don't remember the last time that happened,"

He sighed but said nothing. It took a few seconds but then Remus slammed his fork down "You like them!" he exclaimed. Luckily since Remus was so quiet only the Marauders heard.

"Omg, you're over Lily?!" Sirius seemed more excited than he should be.

"Will you shut up?" James groaned "They'll never like me,"

"Why?"

"Because I'm one of 'you lot'. They don't like our year," James slumped in his seat. His friends dropped it eventually but it hung in the air like cigarette smoke.

As the marauders were walking to the dorms after last class they heard a distant fizzing. They looked around as it seemingly got closer, "Duck!" Remus yelled as he spotted something.

A small ball of grey light came towards them at an alarming rate. They all managed to duck but James was too slow and it got him, knocking him all the way down.

Laughter erupted as James sat up. He looked over himself to see grey goup was covering him. "Ugh," He grimaced as he tried to shake it off but it only jiggled.

He heard Sirius say some spell but whatever it was didn't work as the water he shot at James didn't budge the slime.

James looked up to see a few of the 7th years from last night grinning. "(Y/N)," he muttered, looking over the mess he was in.

"Ow!" He looked up to see the 7th years rubbing their heads and an angry looking (Y/N).

They huffed and walked over to James. "Sorry 'bout that. You might need a hand getting it off." He nodded.

Somehow James ended up sat in front on (Y/N) in an empty classroom as they prepared something. "I thought I told them all not to do anything. Sorry I guess," they said.

"We deserved it," he admitted. "We shouldn't have ruined your birthday,"

"It wasn't ruined, just mildly dampened." They confessed, "This should take it off."

"What is it?" James asked as he looked at the liquid in the cauldron.

(Y/N) looked at it then at him, "You don't wanna know,"

It was awkward as (Y/N) helped James remove the slime. They had to dampen clothes with the liquid and scrape the slime off. "That's all of it," they said as (Y/N) got the last bit off his neck.

"You need to tell me how to make that one day," James said. They shrugged. James sighed "Why don't you like our year?"

(Y/N) looked away for a moment. "Dunno. I guess its cause they don't like me," they sighed, sitting on one of the desks. "I never really got on with people in general. Specifically my age."

"Then why do you hang out with 7th years,"

"They're my cousin's friends. Dunno what I'm going to do next year though. People don't really like me,"

"I like you," James said.

"You just met me," they shook their head "You'll realize soon enough,"

James sighed "You're not even giving it a chance. For all you know I might end up being your best friend,"

"Highly doubtful,"

"give it a chance. The guys and I go to Hogsmeade every Saturday. Come with this weekend." James offered, his heart beating faster than his first Quidditch match.

They sighed "I dunno,"

James looked around the room, trying to think of something "What about just me? Ease into it I guess,"

"You'll regret it," they said.

"Highly doubtful," he grinned, using their own words against them.

"You're persistent,"

James nodded "I've been told," he thought of Lily. "What do you say?"

"Eh...fine. I suppose what the worst that could happen."

"You could fall madly in love with me," James joked as they both got up to clear away what they'd been using.

"Highly doubtful,"

(Y/N) was wrong about one thing but right about the other. James didn't end up their best friend, surprisingly Sirius did. But they did end up falling for James.

[themyskira]

Amazons Attack! - part 2

Previously! Wonder Woman decided to work through her identity crisis by getting a civilian identity and a job as a field agent at the Department of Metahuman Affairs, where her job is to... arrest Wonder Woman. Her partner, Tom Tresser, likes Wonder Woman because she’s hawwwt and hates “Diana Prince” because she has the nerve to, like, expect to work with him on cases and give her opinions and things. Now Circe has kidnapped Tom and Wondy has unfortunately decided to save him.

Also, everybody considers Wonder Woman to be a loser C-grade superhero and it’s suuuuuuper hilarious.

Part 2: Wonder Woman vol. 3 #7 -- Jodi Picoult (writer) and Drew Johnson (artist)

Circe is lying in wait with the captive Tom Tresser at the Wonder Woman Museum -- the one that shut its doors a year ago because Wonder Woman is unpopular, lol. It’s an unbearably stuffy-looking place, all grand Grecian columns and pedestals and busts of Diana and statues of Diana and portraits of Diana, and I’m kind of taking offence at how crappy this museum looks because if I lived in the DCU, working at the Wonder Woman Museum would be a friggin dream job. Though I suppose this goes some way to explaining why the place went bust, if it was some kind of pretentious hall of worship.

While she waits, Circe monologues about how she hates how Diana is so perfect, because perfect people are boring, and she’s probably only being perfect so that everybody sees how perrrrrrfect she is, booooooo.

Tom doesn’t say anything as he is suspended from chains and bound with live snakes, because Circe is so damn extra.

Diana arrives and the huge Wonder Woman statue in the centre of the room slowly turns to look at her. The stone surface crumbles away, and Circe bursts out of it. It’s actually a pretty cool reveal, but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that all of a minute ago Circe was in a different room, monologuing and using her magic to scry on Diana. Meaning that the moment she saw Diana enter the building, she must have scurried to disguise herself as a statue just so that she could jump out at Diana as if this was some kind of freaky surprise party.

Circe wants to talk about how much she hates Diana. Yes, I know we just went through that two pages ago, bur apparently she’s got more to say on the subject. This time her gripe is the fact that everything Diana stands for is a lie, because Diana claims to fight for humanity but will never be human.

All this, by the way, is friggin hilarious, considering this story follows directly on from Allan Heinberg’s “Who is Wonder Woman?” arc, which ends with Diana and Circe reaching a kind of truce, acknowledging that they both share the same longing to be human (yes, I know, but we don’t have the time to get into that nonsense), and Circe extending a peace offering in the form of an on/off-switch for Diana’s powers so Diana can live as a human (UGH IT’S SO STUPID nope nope gotta move on) before they part on peaceful terms.

Granted, the conclusion to that story wouldn’t be published until after “Amazons Attack!” wrapped up, due to Heinberg flaking on the story. But “Amazons Attack!” had been in the planning stages since late 2006; surely a story outline would have been relevant information to pass onto the creators involved in order to avoid, well, silly continuity fluffs like this one.

Or maybe they did know and they just didn’t care.

Anyway, Circe goads Diana about killing Max Lord, Diana loses her temper and punches Circe in the face a lot, and Circe smirks.

“What are you going to do now, ‘Wonder Woman’? Kill me? The Wonder Woman I know would never let me off that easily. Maybe you’re no longer Wonder Woman, after all… Do you even know who you are?

Yeah, Picoult’s reaaaaally hitting us over the head with the identity crisis shit. It’s bad writing on its own, but, again, in the context of the Heinberg arc that came right before this one? The one where Diana moans about how she doesn’t understand humans and she wishes she could be human and she doesn’t know who she is on every. second. page? The one that’s literally titled “Who is Wonder Woman?”? This is a straight-up retread.

Shit, maybe Picoult really wasn’t given the rundown on Heinberg’s arc. Maybe she read those first four issues and was just working on the assumption that Diana’s identity crisis would be an ongoing theme, rather than a struggle that was to be resolved at the end of that story (whenever Heinberg got around to writing it).

Also, thanks to the clumsy wording (“What are you going to do ... kill me? The Wonder Woman I know would never let me off that easily”), Circe appears to be suggesting that the real Wonder Woman would never be so merciful as to simply kill. Where’s the bloodlust and extended torture, Diana?! You’re going soft, damn you!

Circe cackles and teleports away through a mirror, and Diana races to find Tom.

He’s in a bad way, but, even bleeding and delirious, he manages to be a sexist jerk.

Tom: [weakly] Wonder Woman?! Is this a dream? Can’t be— you never wear that in my dreams… Diana: No? What do I wear? Tom: Oh, I don’t know… dessert toppings, mostly. [Diana drops Tom with a loud thud]

Tom is losing a lot of blood, however, given her fugitive status, Diana decides “a hospital is too risky” and breaks into a veterinary clinic instead. I… don’t see which she couldn’t have just dropped him off at an emergency room or outside his headquarters, but… okay, then?

While he’s being patched up, Tom starts munching on a dog biscuit, because he hasn’t eaten since he was kidnapped. Which was all of an hour ago. Then, because he still hasn’t learned to shut his damn mouth, he tells Wondy that he’s “not used to getting rescued by girls”. He adds that he wishes he could work with her instead of his partner, who’s a “tool”.

Diana points out that he’s supposed to be arresting her, and he says that he’s a maverick who doesn’t play by the rules. Well, he says “I don’t always do what I’m told”, but same diff. (Last issue he told his tool of a partner that it doesn’t matter whether arresting Wonder Woman is right or wrong because it’s what they’ve been told to do, but I guess we’re just forgetting that.)

They decide to investigate the scene of Tom’s kidnapping together. While they’re in flight, Tom cradled in Diana’s arms, he asks her whether she only dates other people who can fly. Apparently he’s been doing a good deal of fantasising about banging Wonder Woman in mid-flight, and the problem he just can’t get around is the likelihood of her dropping her flightless partner in her throes of passion. And… he thought it was a good idea to share this with her.

Tom: So, uh, I guess you only date other people who can fly? Diana: What?!? Tom: I mean, say you’re hooking up with someone high above the stratosphere and you’re so overcome with passion that you drop them? That would be a terrible way to end a date… You do get overcome with passion, right?

Drop him, Diana. Drop. Him.

He follows up with a “We’re only human, I guess. Sorry— I mean, I’m only human”, just so that Picoult can mash that theme into our faces a little harder.

And now it’s time for some more classic champagne comedy!!

Diana: So what is the place again? It can’t really be a bar for super-villains? Tom: Well… no, not exactly. Wannabee [sic] villains— fans dressed as villains, actually. And they’re all really into Ashlee and Jessica.

wut.

The bar is filled with all kinds of hilarious colourful characters, including a drunk ape, a group of metahuman brainiacs arguing over Scrabble and a couple of costumed blokes making hack observations about Diana’s costume.

Dude 1: I don’t care what they say on television — Aquaman’s totally washed up. Dude 2: An’ Wunner Woman — how’s she fight crime in a freakin’ bikini wiffout it fallin’ off?

The female bartender immediately starts fawning over Diana, who asks if she’s seen Circe, offering this incredibly helpful description: “She’s, uh, tall… fairly attractive… until you get to know her, I guess.” Really, Diana. Really. Bright pink hair, black headdress, purple cape, propensity for siccing snakes on people and throwing around magic like it’s going out of style, and your go-to is “tall”?

Incredibly, the bartender knows who she’s talking about and directs her to the women’s bathroom — “Beware the smell.” As Diana leaves, a guy who looks suspiciously like the Scarecrow pounces on the jukebox, exclaiming joyously about Jessica and Ashlee Simpson. Comedyyyyyyy.

Diana confronts Circe in the bathroom and they fight, with Circe continuing to berate her about how she doesn’t really know herself. As they wrestle with each other, Catwoman walks in, mistakes the fight for an amorous embrace and apologises.

Selina: Oh, sorry. Didn’t know it was occupied. Next time, ladies, lock the door.

Ha ha! Such zaniness! Isn’t it hilarious that somebody would be so silly to think that Wonder Woman of all people would be interested in smooching ladies?!

Incidentally, there seem to be a lot of legit villains and criminals hanging out in this loser bar for villain cosplayers and wannabes. What possible reason could an immortal sorceress, one of Batman’s most enduring rogues and a crack cat burglar/antiheroine have for slumming it in a place like this?

Circe makes one last jab about Diana not knowing herself, before vanishing through a mirror, just in time for Diana to be ambushed by Sarge Steel and a team of heavily armoured DOMA agents. He thanks Tom for helping to apprehend Wonder Woman, explaining that they were able to track her through the locator chip in Tom’s uniform. Tom was not aware there was a locator chip in his uniform, and wants to know why they didn’t use it to find him earlier instead of leaving him in Circe’s clutches for “the past 24 hours”, and ohhhhh god lord, there is not a single part of this that lines up with the previous issue’s continuity.

Tom cannot have been held captive for 24 hours. Circe ambushed him when he stopped off while driving home from work in the evening. His capture was discovered that same evening and Diana was recalled to headquarters. After being briefed, she immediately figured out where Tom was, changed into her costume and flew to Tom’s rescue. She patched Tom up and they went directly to the bar, at which point it was still clearly dark and the moon was out. This has all happened in a single night.

Tom cannot have been tracked by a locator chip in his uniform, because Tom was not wearing a uniform. He was in his civvies when he was captured. By the time he was rescued, he wasn’t wearing much at all. I think he stole a lab coat from the vet’s. Tom shouldn’t be surprised that there was a chip in his uniform. He should be surprised that Sarge Steel is claiming to have tracked him through a device that is very obviously not on Tom’s person.

If DOMA was capable of tracking Tom all along, then why did Sarge Steel assign Diana to investigate and find him Tom hard way?

The second two points can technically be explained away by the fact that, as will be revealed in later issues, Sarge Steel is really Everyman in disguise and he’s working with Circe. But that doesn’t excuse such contemptuously lazy writing, because by having Steel/Everyman deliver and get away with such a pathetically flimsy lie, Picoult makes him, Tom, Diana and the entirety of DOMA all look stupidly incompetent.

Later, Steel visit Diana, who’s imprisoned in a high-tech underground cell. He tells her that the President of the United States is prepared to let her free in exchange for the schematics for the Purple Death Ray (an Amazon WMD, reluctantly developed and deployed during the OMAC crossover bullshit of the previous year). Then he flips a switch an electrocutes her, because he doesn’t have a moustache to twirl.

Meanwhile, Circe sneaks into Themyscira, and the eternal flame in Hippolyta’s tomb goes out.

Oh, Polly. You deserve so much better than to be pulled into this shithouse crossover.

[writevswrong]

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART TWENTY

Nessian Part Twenty by L.J. LaFleur

Eris:

I braced myself as I walked into the hell that is the Court of Nightmares. An ugly reminder of my past, of me.

Layers of rock and filth surrounding a den of monsters. Creatures that haunted human and fae nightmares. Luckily, I’ve had practice walking amongst demons. Hundreds of years, to be exact.

However, you can’t choose your family. The same blood that flows through me, snakes through my brothers, father and mother. I like to think what little good that flickers inside me is from her.

I hurried through the crowd of despicable beings; I was late. Rhysand had called to me but I was too distracted by Nesta to respond. I hadn’t been distracted like this before. I hadn’t cared before. Another infuriating tick with this woman.

When I didn’t respond to him, he gripped my brain, holding me still as I hovered above Nesta. They don’t call him the most powerful High Lord without reason.

“Thank you for joining us, Eris,” Rhysand tilted his head, raising his chin towards me. He sat at the head of the table, in an onyx chair meant for a king. Beside him, in a matching chair, sat Feyre—High Lady of the Night Court.

Glancing around the room, I realized they were all here. The inner circle, the ones who made the rest of Prythian tremble. “I apologize for not coming sooner,” I replied flatly.

“What delayed you?” Amren sneered, her silver eyes sending daggers into my chest. She was different since the war, that other worldly danger didn’t linger behind her irises. Still…I wasn’t about to irritate the ancient beast.

I stared at her, at the fire bird who saved us, who unleashed herself upon the sea of men. Crossing my arms against my chest, I smirked, “busy. Not all of us have time to continue affairs in distant courts.”

Amren snarled in response.

“Is Nesta alright?” Cassian asked quietly, a leash tightened around his growing anger.

I nodded, unsure if I should explain what really delayed me. What I saw in the flames, what nearly frightened her to death. What stole a minute of my life away.

“Why did you take her?” Feyre asked, her voice ringing against the rock walls.  

This caught my attention. I knew why, but she didn’t. Keep it to myself? Or…?

Feyre’s hand lit with fire, “I’m waiting.”

“Why did you let her run away?” I countered, releasing my arms to pull out a wooden chair from the center of the table—the center of the inner circle. Perhaps this was my trial.

Before anyone could speak, a strained voice spoke up, “she thought she would kill us. That her abilities would demolish not only us but all of Velaris. An endless inferno.” Cassian breathed, his fist tightening till his knuckles went white.

I twisted in my seat, to get a better angle of Cassian and to show the High Lord and Lady that I did not fear them, not even when my back was turned. “She dreams of you,” I confessed, watching as his fist loosened. “All of you,” I continued while turning to face the rest of the inner circle. “You were her family. You were supposed to protect her,” my voice grew louder, thickening with outrage.

Rhysand snarled, stopping my rant before it could continue further. “Yet you were the one to kidnap her.”

“It was either kidnap or kill,” I revealed—a truth I didn’t care to admit. “I shouldn’t have been able to get through the wards to begin with, yet I did. Why?” Pressing further was dangerous, but what did it matter? They needed to question themselves; they were not always good and noble.

Azriel grazed his thumb along the marked table, tracing the claw marks from our last meeting. A watchful eye on me, “the same could be said for your wards.”

I inhaled, thinking too quickly that I could barely get the words off my tongue. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the shadows have eyes,” I responded casually.

“Is she safe?” Cassian interjected, his tone colder than faebane. Copper eyes narrowed in my direction; a curtain of black waves layered around his tanned face.

Clenching my jaw, pondering if a truth or a lie would get me further. “The longer I’m here…no.” I answered honestly. I didn’t secure the chains around those dainty wrists of hers. I didn’t lock her up. Instead, I left her in my chambers. I left her to burn my court to ashes. I left her to possibly be another victim of my brothers. I needed to go.

Elain stepped out from behind Azriel’s wings, her eyes widened as she took me in.  

“Moving on from Mor so quickly?” I taunted, winking in Mor’s direction.

Mor laughed with little humor, her red dress nearly glowing in this dim lighting. “If you touch her, if you harm her in anyway…”

“Spare me the dramatics. I grow rather tired of them—as you know.” I snapped, my eyes tracing over her curvy body.

It would make her skin crawl; I watched as she shrunk back into her seat.  

Azriel growled, his blue siphons radiating.

Elain stood silent, her eyes darting between me and Cassian. What a peculiar girl.  

Feyre cleared her throat, catching my attention. Claws grew from Feyre’s fingers, “are you finished with your remarks?”

“My apologies, High Lady,” I bowed my head slightly, breathing in deeply as I felt the pain in my knee sharpen. The pain persisted ever since the war, since a faebane arrow burrowed its way through my flesh and bone.  

Azriel spoke firmly from his seat, watching Elain out of the corner of his eye, “why do you have Hybern’s faebane production?”

“They stole it.”

“Did you as well?” Amren’s brow rose, her nose raising in the air.

Nostrils flared as I exhaled heavily, “no, I was too busy in the medical tent to follow in their footsteps.”

Mor examined me, a hint of worry, perhaps? But for who? Nesta? Herself?

Rhysand adjusted on his throne, his voice turning guttural, “and what exactly do they plan on doing?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I can rip the answer from your mind if I wanted to.” Feyre added, her tongue clicking against the top of her mouth.

“You already tried, it isn’t there.” I smiled sinfully, “did you not think I wouldn’t feel the talons of a woman?”

Elain stepped forward, Azriel immediately stood beside her. His body, his wings blocking me from seeing her. An inaudible exchange and Azriel lowered his wings, unveiling her only to just below her chin.

“What is it?” I asked, looking from each of the inner circle puzzled faces then back to Elain’s.

Her scowl reduced, as if a repressed memory had finally awakened. “Tendrils of sun…?” the tiniest trail of blood snaked down to her upper lip. “Flames of suns, tendrils of night. Wings of ruin…end, end of sight.” Elain mumbled, her golden eyes widening.

Azriel sniffed, catching the scent of her blood before anyone else had noticed. I had never witnessed him moving so quickly. His wings enclosed him and Elain, feverish murmurs until nothing.

“Does this happen often?” I finally asked, looking around at the distracted parties except one.

Cassian hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since I entered the Court of Nightmares. I didn’t blame him.

Azriel turned into a puff of shadows, disappearing with Elain. Neither saying a word as the darkness faded.  

Before a snarky comment could leave my lips, Rhysand’s voice slithered into my mind.

Azriel showed me everything. Rhysand sounded different, relieved?

Isn’t he the Spymaster of the Night Court? Isn’t that his job?

Yes. And isn’t it yours to inflict the torture, not guard against it?

Yes.

Not missing a beat, he continued, we’ll bring you the cauldron, on two conditions.

You won’t risk it, my head shot up, staring him down. No matter whose life is at stake.

He kissed the back of Feyre’s tattooed hand, I will do whatever it takes to bring my family together.

Did you decide that before or after you let Nesta spiral out of control? I grumbled, watching as he released Feyre’s hand to stare me down.

Rhysand hissed so loudly I nearly had to cover my ears.

After, then. I criticized, feeling my face twist with disgust.

You saved her. Or cursed her—depends how you look at it. Rhysand snickered, gauging me with those violet irises.

What do you mean?

You saved her from herself, from the powers eating her alive. But you cursed her, because you took her from her mate, her family.

Mate? An unfamiliar lump rose in the back of my throat.

Rhysand nodded in reply. I pulled my eyes away, looking at the penetrating glare of Cassian. The bastard commander had a mate after all? I didn’t know what to say, what to do. For what felt like an eternity of unbearable silence, the room emptied—all but for one.

“She needs to eat. To stay strong.” He muttered, concern lacing his cold words.

I stared at the table for a moment longer, still processing, “she refuses to eat, to sleep.”

Cassian continued, “orange mash paired with willow beans, that’s her favorite. Sliced apples—green not red. Nothing red should be on her plate or she won’t eat it.”

“She won’t bathe.”

“Buckets. A lot of damn buckets.” Cassian exhaled his pent-up frustrations, “whatever she saw in that cauldron…will always haunt her.”

Not a what, a who. Ronan. Whoever the hell he is, haunted her every move.  I pursed my lips, gathering what little information he would spare.

Cassian proceeded, “reading, she loves it. Romance and poetry. Sonnets about the sea and traveling to foreign lands.” He shook his head, a permanent scowl in place, “though she has a hard time reading now. But maybe if you read to her…it might bring her peace.”

“She’s an extraordinary woman, isn’t she?” I pressed, observing the twitch of his fist, the flare of his crimson siphon.

Cassian’s lightening hand gripped my throat, pinning me to the back of my chair. “If you harm her…”

I choked for air, grabbing the arms of the chair until the wood groaned then snapped.

He hesitantly released me, hazel eyes flashing with rage.

“I won’t,” I rasped, rubbing my burning throat. “She loves you,” I breathed in.

Cassian stilled, his entire body turning to stone.

“You’re a fool not to see it,” I growled, and so was I. A gods-damn fool.

Not another word was spoken between us. Instead Cassian turned on the heel of his boot and marched out. I could see the glow of his red siphons flicker down the dark hallway.

Keep her safe, Eris. Rhysand warned, a mighty claw gently scraped the back of my skull.

I will. Wherever that damn cauldron is, you need to move faster.

Move faster?

My father will do whatever is necessary to obtain his dreams.

Which are?

King of Prythian. What every old bastard wants at his age.

Will you take care of the faebane?

And compromise my future? Mine and Nesta’s life? No.

Then what do you suggest we do about it? Feyre entered my mind, through the opening I kept clear for Rhysand.

I suggest you two quit stalling me any further unless you would like to risk your sister’s life further. Whatever you have planned, tread lightly.  

A sharp talon curled against my mind, sending cold chills down my back. Vomit raced upwards, pushing against the back of my tongue.

My teeth gnashed together, I will not have you risk her life for a failed mission.

Their presence vanished from my head; the room grew colder. I inhaled, letting the bitter air burn my throat. This was going to end in disaster—no matter what they say or do to reassure her safety. I didn’t trust them.

The Night Court was one of complexity. Good depending what side you were on, awful depending if you were not high priority on their list.

Nesta a pillar of steel, unfortunately laid on the wrong side. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

I stood, my mind wandering for answers—for theories on why this human turned fae was left to her own demise. How could they not hear her leave? Who pushed her to go? Tracing my steps, I pushed my way through the crowded throne room.

As Cassian’s mate…I find it hard to believe he would have let her adventure alone without company. Bastard is more of a loyal dog than a bat.

My pace quickened, the jagged stone walls caving in.

But Mor.

Yes, Mor…the beautiful truth teller.

The liar.

I turned sharply, heading down the last labyrinth of pathways to the exit.

If Cassian and Azriel’s attention were misplaced. The focus on her would be greater. For a mate, a lover—a fleet of men would try to win over her heart. None able to accomplish such a thing, not when her feelings rested with a dead queen from centuries ago.

Fear created that lie.

Sunlight drenched the end of the tunnel; freedom. The moment the warmth touched my skin, I winnowed home.

 I held my breath, waiting for the shadows to disperse. If she burned down the court, I wouldn’t blame her. I only hoped she spared those who were innocent.

The mist of black disappeared, unveiling my untouched chambers. Swiftly scanning the room until I saw her. I exhaled, studying the golden-brown waves falling from her disheveled up-do. Nesta sat beside the opened window, her focus impenetrable.

“Where did you go?” She inquired without looking at me.  

I enclosed the space between us, studying the object she was so focused on. “Do the farmers really spark that much interest?” My chambers felt warmer than before, or maybe it was just her presence.

Nesta’s lips twitched upwards, “it’s not the farmers that hold my attention.” She lifted her slim finger, a slight tremble in her hand.  “There,” pointing east, “I can see, all the way to the ocean. There’s a perfect split through the woods, a crack that leads towards the fallen mountain rocks…a tunnel all the way to the sea.” Her pale face had grown some color in the time I was gone.

I was afraid to speak, afraid to ruin her moment of peace.

“Before I became…” she swallowed hard, shaking her head to fight off the memories. “I only wanted to travel, to find my place in this world.” Nesta turned her attention to me, gray-blue eyes filled with bitter sorrow. “Fate can be cruel, can it not?”

Speaking before thinking, I blurted out, “I don’t believe in fate.”

“What do you believe in?” She countered, a slight twitch of her lips signaled I was out of the crossfire.  

A smirk spread across my face, what the hell did I believe in? “It has been a very long time since I believed in anything.”

“Then why live at all?”

“In hopes to find something or someone to believe in one day.”

Nesta searched my eyes, as I did hers. For something deeper, perhaps? What she didn’t realize is that I have a talent for burying my true feelings. An expert at deflecting. The black of her irises grew, whatever she found, maybe it was the comfort she needed. I looked away before she could dig any further.

I hesitated, digging my hands into my trouser pockets, “thank you.”

“For what?” She replied, pulling the leather strap that held her hair up. Honey waves trailed down her back, a mess of tangles and dried blood.  

Nesta waited, her fingertips gently grazing the mark on her face. Dried crimson still stained her cheeks and chin; bruises and cuts left behind by Ferron. Worse, more permanent markings were left beneath her skin.    

“For not turning my home to ashes.”

 Nesta:

There was a book length of space between us. I glanced at the thankful amber irises. His shoulders pushed back, a muscular torso nearly breaching his tunic. Eris lifted his chin, a crooked smile brushing his thin lips.

“Are you hungry?” He implored, leaning against the wall. Eris studied the spot, the tunnel to the ocean.

Starving. “No, not all.”

“Liar.” Eris pursed his lips, returning his fixing his intense gaze on me, “follow me.” He retreated towards the bedroom door, clearing the room in just a few steps.  

“Missing something?” I asked, jerking my chin towards the faebane chains. I didn’t want those damn chains wrapped around me but I feared the unknown more.

Eris’ amber eyes glistened over, I swear they had.

He cleared his throat, “those won’t be necessary for where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” I hurried to be beside him. A frantic voice in the back of my head said this might be a bad idea, that I might be putting myself in more danger this way.

Eris opened the door, the corner of his lips edging upwards, “a place for dreamers.”

 I don’t know how many times I circled around, bewitched by the Autumn Court library. Books upon books, six levels—maybe more, I lost count. It was almost as grand as the throne room.

The columns that held each level had been one continuous tree it looked like. At the top, the ceiling, my gods…the ceiling had thousands of jeweled leaves. A treasure ceiling of topaz and sunstones, of gold and copper gemstones. Light reflected off each carved leaf.

I couldn’t possibly focus on the books when I was bedazzled by what floated above me.

“My father wanted to build the largest library in all of Prythian,” Eris’ gruff voice snuck up behind me.

“I thought Helion had the largest library?” I pried my eyes away from what was above to look beside me. There were stars in his amber eyes, a cosmic wonderland of burning suns.

“He does.” Eris observed me, his face neutral, “I’ll take you to the poetry level.”

My jaw dropped slightly, then returned to normal. “A level? A whole level?” A saving grace of my captivity.

“Yes, the third one up. I’ll even show you a safe place to read.”

That’s when it hit me, the lack of reading I’ve been doing. The guilt that penetrated my heart with a spear of ice. But what excuse did I have now? I wasn’t training nor did I have anywhere but my cell to reside in.

Eris was already climbing the spiral stairs, they were so high—I wondered if they could reach the stars. Or if anyone fell down them. Ignoring my minor panic, I quickly followed. I was nearly out of breath as we made it to the third level.

Screaming lungs and beads of sweat, I finally made it. Eris was already at a shelf several feet away.

“Pick one out and I’ll show you my favorite place to read.” He stepped back, resting his back on the rickety railing.

I looked up at the overwhelming tower of books, “you read?”

“Yes, I read. Is that so hard to believe?” Eris chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand beside me.

“I thought you would be off kidnapping some other woman by now,” I smiled coyly while scanning the titles on the top three shelves.  

“I wouldn’t have kidnapped you if you stayed in Velaris,” he leaned against the wall, inspecting the shelf’s sturdiness. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you?” he pressed, sliding his finger against the invisible specks of dust.

I glanced at the aged shelf, debating which title would keep my attention. I didn’t dare look at him.  

“Silence?” He shrugged when I didn’t answer, grazing his finger down the old spines, “I never would…”

“I didn’t deserve their kindness,” I faltered, biting my lip till I nearly bled.

Eris stilled, his voice lowered. “My mother once told me, beautiful women lie to--”

“I nearly killed him,” I uttered, feeling the release as I said the words. “Not just once…” I pulled a random book and began walking away. The fire in my core circled, ready to play—to destroy.

“If only you had. Save us a lot of trouble,” Eris jeered, his expression falling when he caught up to me.  

I lifted my hand, flames wrapping up my arm, “touch him and I will incinerate you.” I could feel the amber tears pool in my eyes, I could see the discoloration of him as drops of fire threatened to fall.

“Do you know how to control it?” He asked calmly, watching the flames circle my fingers.

I shook my head, watching the fire grow up my wrists. I couldn’t stop it, I would burn down the entire library—the Autumn Court. Panic reddened my cheeks as I raised my hands to study them.  

Eris held his hand out, waiting. “Search for the heat.”

“What?” I asked, not taking his welcoming hand. What if I burned him too? What if he didn’t make it to the healer in time?

“The heat. The starting point. Where is it within you?”

I closed my eyes, trying to focus, “my stomach?” I shook my head, feeling the kin on my forehead pucker as I kept searching.

“Your heart, Nesta.” He tapped his chest, where a sturdy and steady beat filled my ears, “as you inhale, think of something good.”

“Something good? Are you serious?”

“Do you not have a good memory?”

“Honestly?” I replied, searching for something good, something pure. I flickered through moments in my childhood, only to feel the flames touch my shoulders. The more I thought of the past, the worse I felt.

“Think.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered. My heart beat accelerated as I thought of my father and sisters. I thought of books and long walks. Nothing.

“Nesta,” Eris warned, his hand instinctively grabbing mine.

I waited to hear him scream but nothing.

“I’m trying,” I snapped. Memories crashed into my heart, ripples of dread and fury. I couldn’t stop it. Why did I not have a memory, a moment that felt good.

Heat rose up my neck and across my chest, I was going to explode.

Cassian’s honeyed voice filtered in, “you, Nesta Archeon, are not weak. Take care to remember that.”

Every memory of the bastard warrior struck my chest, soothing the building fire. I could feel his phantom lips against mine; the caress of his hand. How his heartbeat thumped against my skin.  

I could feel the flames shrinking, the heat lifting off my heart.

“You’re almost there,” Eris’ soothing voice nearly sung to me.  

His voice mixed with Cassian’s. A peaceful echo in my head. I wanted to peek but didn’t dare, I didn’t want to be wrong. I didn’t want to hope, to believe I would see Cassian again. I wasn’t sure if I could take it.  

I thought of Eris, of the other bastard in my life. How a torturous moment in Ferron’s chambers turned into one of hope. I had been there, lying on my back in agony but I would rather die on that table—in this court—than say a word about my family.

He would be the last person I would see, that’s when he said it. To torture me with fire, with the one thing that physically couldn’t harm me anymore. He knew.

The flames receded further. Heat racing down my arms.

“Whatever good you have left, think of it. Do it now.” He demanded, his voice strained.

“I…I don’t have anything left.”

“You mean to say our kiss didn’t make your list of good?” He teased whole heartedly.

I growled in response, “bite me, Eris.”

“Willow beans and orange mash, your highness.” An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind us.

My eyes fluttered open, staring at the tray of food, the remaining flames sunk into my fingertips. The servant set the tray down on the nearest table and quickly retreated.

I couldn’t move, breathe—nothing.

“Cassian.” Eris quietly replied, guiding me towards the table.

I peered up at Eris, at the gentle curve of his lips. “When?” I asked, letting myself hope this time.

The brilliant light in Eris’ eyes disappeared, returning to the familiar shade of amber. “Eat, first,” he commanded.

 After scarfing down the entire contents of my plate, I was half tempted to ask for more. I wiped my lips with the cream cloth, an embroidered “V” with several Red Maple leaves forming a crown.

Eris had taken the time while I ate to gather a couple of books. All poetry, some even in different languages. Letters that I had never seen before.  

“I’m surprised you read,” I commented, digging my thumbnail into the wooden tray.

He sighed with relief, noticing all my food was eaten. Returning to his stack of books, he jutted his chin forward, “someone in this family needs to.” Unsatisfied with his collection, he returned to another untouched shelf.

“That explains why you’re different.”

“Does it? I would have thought it was my remarkable chivalry.” He handed me a book, “here, this one should…” his head tilted, a scowl appearing, “what, is it?

“I can’t read. Not that…it’s not that I can’t read, I just…” I couldn’t find the words. Giving up, I tried a different subject, “when did you see him?”

“When I left you earlier, it was because I was summoned by Rhysand.”

“He summons you?”

“Hard to say no to such a charming High Lord.” Eris tapped his knuckle against a thick green leather-bound book. “they wanted to know why I kidnapped you.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked why they let you run away.” He pulled his hands behind his back, we walked side by side beside the wall of novels. “They didn’t like that.”

“I’m sure,” I watched my feet, the Illyrian boots moving one in front of the other.  

“It’s safe here. No one in my family comes here but me. That door there,” he pointed to a space on the shelf. It was a hidden door, made to fit seamlessly in the shelf. “A sitting room. You’re welcome to use it.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “enjoy.” A new book already in hand, he headed towards the stairs.  

“What are you reading?” I asked before he descended.

Eris stopped, slowly raising his head to look at me, “a tale of star-crossed lovers.”

“Romance?” I taunted, raising a brow as he headed towards me. Was he serious?

“Surprisingly, I have a heart. And guilty pleasures.” The familiar smirk reappeared as he glided past me to open the door of his secret nook, “have you read it?”

“I have not,” I replied, stepping through the doorway into a charming reading room. Two massive leather chairs sat beside a wall of windows, a round table set in between them.  

“Would you like to?” He closed the door behind him and sat in the chair facing the doorway.

I glanced at the book then back at him, “no.”  

Eris raised his ankle to rest against the top of his knee, “hopefully you don’t mind me reading out loud then. I hate the silence.”

“Or do you need to practice sounding out the words?”

His smirk grew into a sparkling smile, flipping the pages back to the beginning.

I nuzzled in the seat across from him. Listening. Eating up every word as he spoke. Eventually I closed my eyes, imagining the story of two enchanted souls losing themselves amongst the continents only to find each other years later.

“The end,” he whispered, closing the book and resting it against the table.

I reluctantly sat up from my comfortable position, “you finished? Already?”

“What did you think?”

“It was beautiful.”

Eris licked his lips, a glass of water appearing beside him. “It’s missing something,” he responded before taking a sip.

“Missing what?” I squinted, as if it would help me hear better.

“Sex.”

“Pig,” I shook my head; an absolute ass.

Eris shifted in his chair, his eyes flickering towards the door than back to me. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Love is more than sex, Eris.”

“Is it? I could have sworn…”

Before he could speak another word, I retorted with, “maybe that’s why you’re so lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” he commented, raising his etched glass to his dry lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the bursting suns reappearing in his eyes. “Oh?” I asked, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say next.

“You’re next to me. Are you not?” He flickered his eyebrows up, setting his glass down.

“A mirage,” I twiddled my thumbs, circling them to distract myself.

Eris plopped the book down, making me jump. “A beautiful one then,” he coolly replied.

“Save your flattery,” I could feel the patches of pink form on my chest and neck. I chalked it up to embarrassment of my shot nerves.  

“Ah,” he murmured, staring out the window. “How could I forget about good ole Cassian?”

“He is not all good, nor is he all bad,” I answered honestly. Cassian…I missed him. The sharp pain in my heart still healing. I wasn’t sure what was killing me more, the fact that I would never get to see him again or that if I did, I might nearly kill him.

Eris pondered, “what would you call him then?” He focused on the empty spot on our table, waiting.

“Male?” I asked confused, I stared at the same spot. What the hell was he doing?

“Fae?”

“Illyrian.”

“Englighten me, Nesta…” he paused to look at me, “have you ever been with a male?”

Fire ignited, “why is that such a fascinating topic for the opposite sex?” I bit my lip shaking my head. Are all men asses? “Have you ever fucked anyone? No, Eris. I have not.”

“Why? If you’re in love, why haven’t you?” What are you waiting for?” His focus returned back to the empty spot. A tray of steaming tea and scones appeared.

If I had blinked, I would have missed it. I watched as the hazy tendrils reached skywards from the teacup. “I, I’m not ready. I don’t know when I’ll ever be,”

“Who was it?” He asked, slicing the scones in half with an absurdly large knife.

My mind couldn’t focus on our discussion, not when my stomach wouldn’t stop growling. “Who?” I asked utterly confused, my eyes honed in on the blueberry jam that he was spreading across the delectable surface.

“The one that tore your faith in men away?”

“Tomas,” I confessed, not paying any attention to what I was saying.

He waited, stopping all movements as he watched my words catch up to me.

I glanced between him and the scone, he was silently bribing me. A scone for my thoughts. Prick. So, I began, thinking back to the day my faith in men broke.

I stared at the cup of a tea, looking into it as if it were a cauldron of buried memories. “In a barn,” I coughed to clear my throat. “On the farthest side of his land--the outskirts of my miniscule village.” I gazed up at Eris, for some reason it was easier telling him these details. Cassian would break every bone in Tomas’ body but Eris? He would do nothing, just listen. Only listen.

“I had gone to break things off with him. To stop it from becoming too serious.” I looked out the window, at the panes of glass trickled with heavenly drops. “Anyways, he held me down and as I begged him to stop…he laughed.” My throat throbbed, swelling with pain. “I fought. I ran.” I inhaled deeply only to exhale quickly, my words rushing out, “I didn’t love him and after that I never would.”

For a long while, neither of us spoke. I wasn’t sure if I scared him or if he was waiting for more to the story. Either way, he pushed the scone forward, signaling me to eat.

“If you had your chance for revenge, would you take it?” Eris asked before taking a bite. I

I swallowed the deliciously warm scone. “I’d like to think I’m better. But deep down, I know…” I had never said this out loud. The realization that I had not discussed this with anyone before hit me harder than I thought. This was out loud, there was someone listening to every word. This was real.

Eris studied me, then down at his hand that rested on the table between us. “Your anger, your sadness and your pride will control this,” he let the flames grow to emphasize his point. “Do not let your demons win.”

“What does it matter now?” I pushed the scone away, only a bite taken but I was full—sick.

“It will always matter.” Fire danced on his palm, raising towards the ceiling. He released the book, his other hand turning into a ball of flames. “Your emotions are yours. Control them, control this.” He exhaled, the fire receding, leaving only smoke tendrils behind.

Splashes of pink and red filtered through the window, rays of gold setting in the distance—scaring the rain clouds away. For what felt like an eternity, we sat still, staring out that window. I was scared to look at him, scared to see what he felt—what would be plastered all over his face.

“Say something,” he finally said.

I shifted in my seat, taking a deep breath as I gave him a once over. “Will I be here forever? As your family’s prisoner?”  

“I don’t know,” he answered solemnly.

I searched his eyes, nothing. The rest of his body, nothing. Clues—there was nothing. I couldn’t read him. “Please take me to my cell,” I croaked, letting the amber droplets slide down my bloodstained skin.

“No.”

A prisoner for the rest of my life. A period of time that could be anywhere from a blink in time to forever. “Then please take me home,” I whispered, unable to speak any louder.

“No.”

“Eris…”

“I can’t.”

I gave up, feeling as if the faebane chains had permanently settled into my skin. A hopeless effort on my part. I should have known that even getting in Eris’ good graces, I would never leave, only trap myself further.  

“You need your rest before tomorrow.”

I knew he was talking about Ferron. I knew I would go back, I would keep going until they broke me. How could he? How could he give me this gift, this…this moment of peace to rip it from me so cruelly?

“You told me to control my emotions. Maybe it’s time to unleash yours.” I snapped, retreating out of the sitting room. I needed air—maybe wine. I didn’t know. But if I were going to burn this damn court to the ground, then I would start with this damn library.

Eris winnowed in front of me, I instantly turned around.

He blocked the exit, his arms spread across the door frame. “I do not have the luxury,” he seethed, nostrils flaring.

“You do not have courage,” I snapped, my heart racing, “there’s a difference.”

Eris snarled, the first time I had heard him make such an atrocious sound, “and what good would it bring me? I am no bastard commander.”

“No, you’re not,” I agreed, balling my hands into fists. I didn’t bother trying to put out the flames this time. “Take me home,” I whispered with more animosity than I had ever used with him before.

He shook his head, lacing his fingers with mine. Calculated amber eyes focused in, studying my trembling lip. “If that’s what you wish.”

 Eris:

To the woods then. Where hundreds of Red Maple trees expanded beyond the horizon. The shadows released us, spitting us several miles away from the Winter Court border. Close enough.

“Where…?” Nesta breathed, her hands trembling with fire.

I shook my head, there wasn’t any time for this. We had to move, to run. “We need to keep moving,” I urged, pulling her fire-hand with mine.  

“If we winnow again…?” She could barely speak, let alone sprint.

No delays, no death. It was that simple. “We won’t. Your face is a rather disgusting shade of green.” I dragged her behind me, running through the leafy terrain.  

“Prick,” she mumbled.

I nearly laughed but this wasn’t the time. The Autumn Woods was full of creatures worse than the Spring Court, possibly more devilish than the Night Court. We knew how to make all good things rot to their core, monsters were no different. “Do not fall behind, do not look back. Or we will die. Do you understand?”

Those gray-blue eyes widened, I could see the stress of my words sinking in.

She nodded, falling in step after me. I guess she didn’t think I would do it. That her damn words wouldn’t strike a chord in me. That her entire being had sparked something within me that I hadn’t felt in a hundred years.

Nesta breathed heavily, with each exhale, I could feel the fear on the back of my neck. I wanted to hold her, to winnow us away. But I couldn’t. I could barely get us this far, even then I thought it might kill me. Why? Why could I not winnow?

“Can we stop, please?” She panted, nearly tripping over her boots. Nesta was slowing down, I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t much better than her at the moment.

My grip tightened around hers, “we can’t stop, not yet. We need to get past the wards and traps.” I continued to move forward, pulling her along. I would carry her if I needed to.

“Traps?” She muttered, her feet picking up at my urgency.

“Tons,” Egan laughed, stepping in front of us.

We slid to a stop, I almost lost my balance as Nesta slammed into my back. “Egan, what are you doing here?” I raised myself upright, keeping Nesta behind me. If I had enough strength to winnow, I could get us across the border.

Egan’s smile twisted, “not just me, brother.” A look of regret flashing across his features.  

Aedin and Father stepped into view, their mouths nearly frothing with rage.

Well, shit.

“Father,” I bowed slightly, still holding Nesta behind me. Even as she squirmed to see what was going on—I didn’t falter. “Nesta and I were going for a late stroll.”

“Isn’t that what you said with Lys?” Aedin crossed his arms, stepping closer.  

The vein in my neck bulged, fire building in my palm. I would strike if I needed to.  

Aedin circled around us, trying to get a better view of Nesta. “Does she know about Lys? About your first love?”

“His only love, till death do you part.” Egan said sadly, his eyes focused on the top of Nesta’s head.

“Winnow,” she begged. “You have to,” Nesta breathed as she buried her head into my back.

I could feel the flames rising from her, dancing with mine. I could feel the fiery tendrils collide with me.

“Lys was mighty beautiful,” Aedin hissed with laughter. “Well…before the wolves shredded her.”

Memories of Lys, of the only love I knew being torn apart by Autumn wolves—wolves trained by my father.  

Nesta grabbed my forearm, her fingers tightening around my muscle. A signal. If she wasn’t going to explode first, then it would be me. Maybe that would be in our favor?

Father could barely move, his disappointment evident in his stance, in his face. “How could you betray me? Your father? Your flesh and blood?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“You don’t understand…” I swore, unable to continue.

“I don’t understand??” Father spat on the leafy ground, “you turned into a disappointment. A traitor. Just like your brother.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Aedin barked. “A traitor to the throne, to our blood.” His fist flew into my stomach, barely making an impact.

Looking at his fist, I followed up his arm and then to his surprised expression. Aedin might look more muscular, but he was no match for his older brother. I pushed Nesta back, towards the opening in the woods.

If I held them off long enough, she could make it.

I launched a ball of fire into Aedin’s chest, sending him backwards. Egan came next, a failed attempt at a tackle. My elbow crushed down on his spine, a loud snap reverberated against the trees.

Aedin stared at Egan’s limp body, a wild expression, a blazing fist aiming for my jaw. I ducked then lunged forward. I would kill him. Blood or not, this was my revenge.

“She screamed like a little bitch when the first wolf bit her.” Aedin roared, smothering the flames across his chest.

I yelled, unable to contain the beast within. Fire poured out of me, wrapping around Aedin until his oxygen was nearly cut off. Out of all my brothers, Aedin was the worst, the vain and damned out of the bunch.

A piercing scream came from behind me, my heart stopped—as did the flaming circle.  

“If you kill him, she’s dead.” Father bellowed, his voice shaking the leaves around us. “We’re going home.”

  Nesta:

Beron had caught up to me. For an old man, he was fast. I only screamed because Beron had raised a dagger, he would kill his own son. I shouldn’t have been surprised by that, I should have seen it coming if anything.

But it was too late now. We were back in the damp cell, covered in faebane chains. Eris sat beside me, his shoulder keeping me warm while we waited out our trials. We would die today, a most painful death.  

“Why did they name you Eris?” I asked to distract myself.  

Eris rested his head on the stone wall, staring at the ceiling above us. “Because like fire, I rise,” he croaked.

Eris hadn’t spoken for hours, but finally…finally I had asked the right question.

“Why did they name you Nesta?”

“My parents never told me.” I answered, squinting in the darkness. “Will we die here?” I finally asked the pending question I was too afraid to say. Part of me knew, but another part only hoped this was just a bad dream.

Eris remined silent, answer enough.

I couldn’t give up now, “can’t you just winnow us out of here?”

“With faebane chains wrapped around us like this?” He raised his wrist, which in doing so raised mine, “…no.”

“Will…?” I stopped, hearing what sounded like an arrow piercing through the sky. The landing sounded like an explosion, the loudest noise I had ever heard. My ears rung, my heart raced furiously.

A roar so loud, I had to cover my ears. The aftershocks from whatever landed made the stones beneath us crack. Amber tears leaked out of my eyes as the second roar sounded. A line of light filtered into our cell, the crack large enough for the air to pass through.

His scent sung to me, caressing my entire body. Warmth and rage encasing me. 

“Cassian?” I whispered, my eyes looking through the grid of metal and stone till I saw an opening, a crack just large enough to peek through.

His wings tucked in tightly behind him, hundreds of Illyrian soldiers touched foot on the ground while the remainder stayed in the air. Seconds later, the rest of the family winnowed beside him.

“Cassian,” I cried, hope lifting my spirits. He was here, he…he was alive.  

Eris kneeled beside me, looking through the same crack. A crooked smile gracing his face, “it’s about time that bastard arrived.”

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Neverending Nightmare

A/N: This is my entry for @ladylorelitany‘s Monster Mash challenge, my prompt being Freddy Krueger. It was honestly a lot of fun to write for Freddy again, considering I used to write for him a long long time ago. Fun fact the Freddy Krueger fic I wrote in high school was my second attempt ever at a long fic. While that fic pales in comparison to what I can write now, it was still fun to write two of my favorite characters together for a bit of an angsty showdown. <3

Word count: 2,025

Warnings: SUPREME ANGST, swearing, blood & guts, semi-detailed description of violence, Freddy’s claw, mental torture/mind games, Freddy Krueger in general.

Negan’s eyes shot open, squinting at the harsh light that flooded the darkened hall where he stood. He noticed how heavily he was breathing, and the bead of sweat that trickled down his brow. Swiping at his forehead, his fists began to clench when he recognized his surroundings.

Not again.

Negan stood in a darkly lit corridor, the only light trickling in from the end of the hall. The walls smelled damp and slightly like mildew. The paint was old and flaking. The place was in obvious disrepair. The dim light was too far for him to make out what would meet him there, but Negan knew it would be horrible. What waited for him was always horrible beyond imagine.

Even though he knew the dangers he’d find, he had to move. Otherwise they would come and find him, and that was always worse. Clenching his teeth, he skulked down the hall. His footsteps sounded like a deafening boom in his ears. Each step was like the tick tock of a clock, a reminder of how soon he’d find out what lay in wait at the end.

Tick.

Tock.

Thump.

Thump.

He squinted against the bright light that engulfed his body. In a brief flash, the light faded and Negan was transported to a forest lit only by moonlight. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a new object in his hand, a familiar companion. Lucille.

That could only mean that the burnt fucker was in the mood to play tonight. Just great.

As if on queue, a low wail broke through the silence. Negan whipped his head around, only to be met with the hissing and snarling of the shambling walking dead coming in close behind him. Negan smirked. Did that asshole think this was a challenge for him? This was a piece of cake.

With a flourish of his wrist, he slammed Lucille down on the first head that approached him. Brain matter splattered onto his face, but he continued to smash Lucille on his next two brain-dead victims. As another walker approached his side, Negan kicked it in the gut, sending it sprawling to the ground. Negan swung his weapon on another, its disembodied head flying into the crowd. Before the kicked walker could get back up, Negan stomped his heel into the head, exploding it on impact.

More kept coming from the trees, but Negan never let up once. His adrenaline was pumping in time with his swings, putting every walker that shuffled into his line of sight out of commission. He couldn’t even begin to count how many he’d taken out, or keep track of the time. It all melted together, as if hours and hours of swinging were condensed into mere seconds in real time.

And then all was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the wind whistling through the branches of the trees. Negan however, stayed tense for a few moments, knowing another ambush could be ever present. But all he was met with was silence, so he let himself relax for a moment.

Negan brought his red scarf to his face, rubbing off as much walker blood as he could. His hand still gripped Lucille tightly for comfort, afraid if he let go she’d disappear in an instant. The silence only made him more anxious. He wanted to shout, scream, wave Lucille around and hit everything in his path, all while cursing that coward for hiding in the shadows and making him play these games, just to fill the empty void with someone talking. But that would only bring him out sooner.

Almost as if his mind was being read, a soft voice broke the quiet. Negan heard the voice, but his brow furrowed. He couldn’t tell what it said, and couldn’t even begin to guess which direction it came from. It was a woman perhaps… a soft, nurturing voice that called out…?

“Negan,” the voice repeated, only this time Negan understood. And he recognized it too. All too well. Had it memorized by heart, even.

He was almost afraid to turn around. Negan knew who stood there, who was calling out for him. But he knew it was a trick. That’s what he wanted Negan to do, to look at the source of the voice. He didn’t want to, but his heart had other ideas.

Negan turned himself to face Lucille.

She wasn’t how he liked to remember her. Of course not. It was how he last saw her, staring at him with dead eyes in a hospital gown, her lovely jet black hair a thing of the past. She only stood there, her body swaying slightly as if she struggled to keep herself upright. Negan’s throat tightened at the sight, finding it hard to breathe.

“Negan, my love,” Lucille cooed, in that way she always did when he was upset or frustrated from work. Negan’s bottom lip began to tremble, but he held the bat Lucille with an iron grip. Lucille paused for a brief moment before continuing, “Negan, my love... please kill me.”

He wasn’t even aware of the choked sob building in his throat until it hit the air, the sound harsh and foreign to him. Negan stared in disbelief at Lucille, those words not resembling anything she would have ever said. Ever begged for. But here she was, doing exactly that.

“I can’t, baby,” Negan’s voice trembled as he shook his head. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t even do it before, he needed someone else to end her suffering as a walker. Even so, he still held Lucille tight, trying to find comfort in something that felt real in this moment.

Lucille took a tentative step forward, making Negan flinch back. Her mouth hung open, and she spoke again, “Please kill me… before I kill you.”

It was as if she had regained her walker instincts in that exact moment. Lucille’s arms reached out for him, her shambling steps quickly closing the gap. Even with a weapon, Negan felt powerless. He couldn’t do this. He turned heel and ran.

He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, his legs carrying him deeper into the forest. He didn’t even bother to look back at Lucille. He just needed to get away.

He almost ran headfirst into Lucille when she stepped out from in front of a nearby tree and lunged at him. Negan gasped, recoiling his body and turning to run in the other direction. He stopped dead in his tracks before he could go any further.

A horde of Lucilles. All surrounding him. He had nowhere to run.

Against his will, Negan felt his knees buckle underneath him. He fell to the ground, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from sobbing. He couldn’t even look up as they closed in on him, reaching out, grabbing at his clothes. He held onto Lucille in his hand, never once having let her go through it all, and let the first set of teeth rip into his neck.

And then there was a burst of heat. Negan’s head swiveled around the boiler room, confused at first by the change in location. But when he heard that low growling voice, he knew exactly where he was.

“You act as if it’s a fucking hardship to kill your wife,” the voice cackled above. Negan looked up at the catwalk, a dark shadowy figure leaning against the metal rail. The steam clouded his vision, but Negan could see those long clawed blades from a mile away.

The figure clinked the blades against the rail, dragging them across the metal to create a piercing screech. Negan didn’t flinch, he’d experienced it many times before. It was just a game, and Negan wouldn’t let him win.

Suddenly, the shadow figure disappeared, only to reappear mere feet from Negan. While the dirty brown fedora hid most of his face, Negan could still see the man’s marred face underneath. He clinked his bladed glove against his thigh, as if pondering what to do next. Finally, the man’s mouth curled into a sneer as he continued, “I had no fucking qualms killing my bitch of a wife when she stuck her nose into my business. Not sure why you couldn’t even put yours out of her fucking misery-”

With a roar, Negan shot up to his feet and swung Lucille hard into the man’s shoulder. He stumbled slightly, just as Negan went for another swing. And another. Again and again until he couldn’t count. Just before the man tipped over, Negan gripped him by the lapel of his dingy red and green striped sweater and slammed him into the metal grate panel that served a makeshift barrier in the boiler room.

“I don’t need some ugly motherfucking asshole telling me what I did wrong with my life. Like I don’t already fucking know,” Negan spat. “Newsflash motherfucker, you don’t have as much power over me as you’d like to fucking think. I’m bigger, stronger, and fucking taller than your shrimp ass, the fuck do you have except for your dinky ass glove!?”

“Do you fucking forget who I am!?” Negan wasn’t holding the man anymore, and instead he was prowling along the furnaces, not a scratch on him. “I’m Freddy fucking Krueger! You know, the guy that’s been torturing you in your dreams for the past month? You can never fucking escape me!”

“Try me, you cocksucker!” Negan shouted, twirling Lucille in his hand as he waited for the moment to strike.

Freddy chuckled. “Interesting weapon you’ve got there, but I’m not one to complain,” he said, pointing to Lucille with his bladed index finger.

Negan looked in his hand at what was so amusing, but dropped the object in shock. It couldn’t be. He didn’t want it to be.

Her arm. Lucille’s arm. How long had it been there, replacing Lucille? Her severed limb fell to the ground with a sickening thwack. Negan stared in absolute shock until his gaze fell upon the sight before him.

Freddy’s boiler room had numerous chains hanging from the walls, swaying and clinking next to each other. But they were silent as they touched the body that hung from one of the chains. It was wrapped tightly around Lucille’s neck, her head rolled to the side as she stared dead eyed at Negan. Her face and body were littered with claw marks, marring the beautiful woman he used to be married to. Bloodied and bruised, she was barely recognizable. Except for her long, jet-black hair.

Negan’s eyes widened in shock at the sharp pain in his back. He coughed, and spat up blood dribbled down his chin. His fingers gingerly touched the blades that protruded from his chest, wriggling around and causing more blood to ooze onto his white shirt.

Freddy leaned into his ear, the foul stench of decay suffocating Negan. That rattling breath of Freddy’s voice sounded like the tick tock of a clock, counting down before the final hour.

Tick.

Tock.

Inhale.

“You can breathe… you can cry…” Freddy’s teasing voice began. “Hell, I know you’ll be doing that.”

Exhale.

And all went black.

Negan gasped and sat up in bed. He scanned the room in a frenzy, but he was really in his bedroom. The light shone brilliantly through his window, falling on the floor in gentle warm sunbeams. Negan’s hands trembled, clutching his sheets with white knuckles. Lucille sat upright in the chair by his bed, still shiny and new from when he cleaned her up last night.

He didn’t notice when his head flopped back onto the pillow. He also didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face as his shoulders tensed and his chest heaved. He also didn’t notice the crackling of the walkie talkie on his bedside table, Simon’s voice telling Negan that he needed to get up and give his wives a break because the Saviors were getting antsy.

And he didn’t notice for ten long minutes until Simon was knocking at his door. But by then Negan was dressed and ready, putting his dreams behind him for just one more day.

I hope you enjoyed my fic, let me know if you’d like on or off of my taglist <3

@superprincesspea// @vizhi0n// @ladylorelitany// @kijilinn// @the-angle-of-depression// @multi-villain-imagines// @squid-from-mirkwood// @notice-me-senpai-sama// @ofdragonsanddreams16// @uniquewerewolfsuit// @lucilepiewhiskey// @i-am-negan-trash// @followmeonelasttime// @world-war-crap// @sherlocks-timetraveling-assbutt// @zombeeegurl// @blondekel77// @deez666// @purplejellybean// @wadeyourebarelyalive// @johnthackerys// @memphisgirl1977// @melodicdolls// @negans-dirty-girl// @beltz2016// @daintyunicorn// @warriorqueen1991// @ryangoslingstanktop//

[keegames]

Sonic Forces Review: Chains of Future Past

Ah, Sonic Forces. To many, it’s the OTHER Sonic game to come out this year. A few previous articles have mentioned my history with the series, and I promised a review of this game, so without further ado, here goes.

Sonic Forces is an odd little game, in that it seems it was made to please all types of Sonic fans. The core of the gameplay of both Modern Sonic and your custom character (more on that later) is the tried-and-true racing-platfomer-hybrid first used in 3D Sonic by Sonic Unleashed and then adapted into Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations. However, it also features levels starring Classic Sonic similarly to Generations, and it has a few levels based on Genesis Sonic zones (though with more changes to their aesthetics than Generations; more on that later). It also features an attempt at a more serious (some would say “edgy”) story, similar to that of the Sonic Adventure games, and a create-a-character feature sure to appeal to the series’s more imaginative fans. The premise of the main plot is even similar to the SatAM show and the early Archie comics. Unfortunately, it would be a lie to say that all these discrete elements come together strongly. Still, despite its flaws, there’s a lot of fun to be had in Sonic Forces. Hopefully this lengthy write-up gives you a better idea of the game’s pros and cons.

Gameplay

Sonic Forces features four gameplay styles that the player is shuffled between across its various stages (30 main stages/boss fights, plus 13 or 14 short secret levels that are entirely 2D platform challenges based on singular level gimmicks). Unlike other Sonic games that feature multiple gameplay styles, however, three of the four styles control relatively similarly with a single core mechanic differentiating them (or, in the case of ���tag team,” not differentiating them).

Let’s start with Modern Sonic. Modern Sonic, in terms of abilities, is most similar to his Colors incarnation, featuring a double jump and a boost that is only filled by either collecting Wisp Capsules or destroying enemies. His levels swap between 3D and 2D smoothly. Unlike Colors, he can perform the Quick Step (a short shift to the left or the right) at any point with the shoulder buttons, though like Colors, a few context-sensitive sections have him do this with a push of the joystick to the left or right as well. He also has the stomp and slide moves. Strangely, his drift ability is completely absent, which you may miss in a few parts of Metropolitan Highway, but generally won’t worry about otherwise. Like the previous games of this style, Sonic takes turns kind of wider than you’d expect from most 3D platformer characters, but it’s managing his momentum and movement in that way that makes this style unique and interesting. Set aside the assumptions put in place by Super Mario 64 and Crash Bandicoot, and you’ll be well on your way to mastering the game and blazing across the land.

Now, the custom character. You can choose your character’s gender, animal species, a few different head styles, eyes (shape and color), colors, voice, and victory pose. These options are relatively basic, which fits because Sonic characters don’t have much body variety anyway. Each species also has a special ability, but these are generally minor (wolf attracts nearby rings, rabbit has longer invincibility when hit, bird has a small double jump, etc.) You can still make some goofy looking faces with the right eyes, but the real meat of the customization is in clothing. Doing just about anything in the game will unlock more and more clothing pieces, from shirts to pants to jackets to capes to hats to glasses to shoes to kneepads to monocles to masks and more. There’s tons of this stuff and you can make some ridiculous creations. It’s actually one of the most fun things in the game.

The custom character’s basic controls are basically identical to Modern Sonic, though they lack a double jump unless you make a bird. Notably, however, they lack the boost, meaning that, though you still get moving at good speeds, you won’t quite be running over everything in your path. The custom character’s main form of attack outside of homing attacks is your equipped Wispon (Wisp weapon). Each of these serves two purposes: a regular attack that you can do at any time, and a special ability that you can perform when you pick up the corresponding Wisp. There are a variety of attacks and abilities, but they’re not all created equal by a long shot. For example, the Burst Wispon gives you a flamethrower that you can hold to torch enemies in front of you. This is one of the best ones due to not affecting your movement; you can run and jump freely while spraying fire, so you don’t lose momentum. Comparatively, the Lightning Wispon is an electric whip that forces you to either stop or move forward awkwardly while swinging (though its arc is pretty wide), and the Cube Wispon forces you to stop completely and attack twice to actually destroy enemies since its first swing traps them in cubes. (Destroying cubed enemies gives you extra rings, though, so at least it can get you more points than other Wispons.) Generally, you’ll find yourself annoyed by Wispons that stop your movement. One notable Wispon is the Drill, which gives you a powerful, super-fast charging attack that you keep your momentum from afterwards. It’s perfect for speedrunning.

The Wispon abilities that are activated from the item also vary. Burst lets you do a series of jumps until its meter runs out, Lightning allows you to dash along trails of rings and enemies, Drill grinds you across the ground and up walls, Asteroid makes you invincible for a period of time, etc. Some of these are good for finding alternate paths and hidden Red Rings throughout levels, while others are mostly utilities for making your life easier. Custom character levels are usually similar in layout and feel to Modern Sonic ones, apart from the changes made to make Wispons relevant.

Classic Sonic is the third character, and easily the worst. His levels are fully 2D, and on a basic level, he works like he would in Mania, right down to him having his Drop Dash. However, he just feels WRONG. Jump momentum is screwy, momentum when not rolling doesn’t work right, and he just generally feels like a brick with Sonic’s moves. Even without Sonic Mania’s release this year, he’d seem kind of off; with it, he’s just embarrassing. That said, his levels are designed competently apart from his final level, Iron Fortress, which is a giant pain in the ass, thanks to a forced autoscrolling section full of death pits. Classic Sonic is absolutely the worst part of Forces, and hopefully SEGA decides to re-hire the Mania team to appeal to Sonic nostalgia rather than trying and failing to make this sloppy gameplay style work. (Forces was in development before Mania, so it was likely too late to cut him out by time Mania started, so I give a slight pass in that sense.)

The fourth type of stage isn’t technically a new character; rather, it is Tag Team stages, where you control both Modern Sonic and your custom character at the same time. Controlling two characters at once is done very simply, as you are essentially controlling one character with both sets of abilities. There are the least of these stages compared to other characters. One notable thing about them is that there are very few 2D sections, with only one that lasts more than a few seconds. They also feature a “Double Boost” mechanic, where at certain pre-determined points you’re asked to mash a button, and after a few seconds, Sonic and your custom character rocket forward for a certain amount of time, running over enemies and gathering rings. It’s basically just a scripted sequence where you can rack up points, but it’s amusing to see your own creation as Sonic’s new best friend as the game’s cheesy vocal theme plays and you run over tons of enemies.

Notably, the game no longer has lives; you are instead awarded a bigger score bonus at the end of levels for dying less. Since previous 3D Sonic games already hurt your ranks for dying mid-level, having to spend lives to restart at checkpoints or retry levels would be a waste anyway. I’m not one to say that lives should be completely eliminated from games (and in fact I think Sonic Mania was better for having them, despite some complaints I’ve heard), but in this case they wouldn’t add to the experience in any meaningful way.

Level Design

Though level design is technically part of gameplay, it’s important enough in Sonic especially to need its own section. Since Modern Sonic, custom character, and Tag Team levels mostly hit the same design beats, I can talk about their design relatively interchangeably.

With pre-release footage, people were worried that levels were too short and too linear, with little to no shortcuts or things to do beyond blasting forward for a little bit. I can confirm, however, that the levels showcased pre-release are generally some of the least interesting, for whatever reason. Many of the levels have cool shortcuts and paths taken through either well timed jumps, sidesteps, homing attacks, or Wispon ability usage. Like previous Sonic games in this style, there’s more platforming in 2D than 3D, but generally rocketing your way through these levels, optimizing your performance, and finding the paths to take to collect all the Red Rings (there are five hidden in each level) is a lot of fun, with a single consistent caveat.

Many of the levels in Sonic Forces feel too short. This is less of a criticism of the actual time spent in each level, and more of a criticism of their pacing. Each level, consistently, feels sort of like two thirds of a level; each one seems like it should have a third section that brings together all the mechanics and layout techniques the level introduced and fully bring them to their conclusion. Instead, each time you get to where you think you’re about to reach that, the level ends instead. The thing that makes this especially sad is that what’s there tends to be a LOT of fun. You’ll be ripping through cool, interesting landscapes and you’ll wish you could do it more than you end up doing. As much fun as I ended up having with this game, I couldn’t help but feel a little short-changed from time to time.

Classic Sonic’s level design generally feels like a simplification of design you’d find in Sonic the Hedgehog 2; there’s nothing super special about it but it’s not bad either, apart from the aforementioned Iron Fortress. You’ll be more bothered by his actual control than with the levels.

The game also has its share of boss fights for each character, which range from “inoffensive” to “moderately fun,” though they’re never the best part of the game. The custom character probably has the best time with them, because using the Wispons to attack is more fun than homing attacking repeatedly, and some of them you can really speed up the fights with the right abilities. Unlike some other 3D Sonic games, they never really get frustrating, so I guess that’s a plus.

Graphics

Sonic Forces looks pretty nice. It varies by level, however. Forces’s take on Green Hill wasn’t quite as nice as Generations’s; it used more simple geometric shapes and less interesting foliage. Some of the other levels are much nicer looking, such as the Mystic Forest, Death Egg, Metropolis, and Empire Fortress stages. Many of the levels also have tons of action in the backgrounds, including giant robots, bombing runs, and in the case of the Empire Fortress stages, an all-out war. The lighting looks pretty nice, and the game runs at a rock-solid 60 frames per second on the PS4 version that I played. It won’t necessarily wow you, but it’s a game that looks pretty good.

Sound and Music

The game’s voice acting is cartoony and goofy, like you’d expect from a game about talking animals. Most of the levels have dialogue during them that advances the plot and describes action. There is an option to turn off all the in-level dialogue, which is useful when you’re replaying stages.

The music is pretty good, though not quite the series’s best. Each character has their own musical style in their levels. Modern Sonic generally has a mixture of guitars and synths in his levels. The compositions are cool, fast-paced, and sometimes kind of dramatic, but the lead synth in a lot of them isn’t quite idea. I still like a lot of the music, but I can understand it bothering you. The custom character has music characterized mostly by synths, other electronic instruments, and vocals. The lyrics are kinda cheesy, with the songs being about destiny, winning the fight, and other goofy things. You might find yourself singing along if you don’t take yourself seriously. Classic Sonic music actually uses Sega Genesis-styled instruments, though strangely enough it doesn’t sound like the kind you’d hear in a Genesis Sonic game. I can’t quite place the game I would hear these sounds in, though. A few are catchy and fun, but the others are pretty forgettable. Tag team stages have music similar to the custom character’s stages, but without lyrics (with the exception of one stage that reprises the game’s main hard rock vocal theme). They’re generally pretty forgettable.

Story

I can’t tell if Sonic Forces is taking itself seriously or if it’s being tongue-in-cheek about the series’s previous brushes with serious storytelling, but either way it’s pretty hilarious. Hearing goofy cartoon animals talk about the seriousness of war never stops being funny, whether intentionally or not. The story is always cheesy, going from an overly edgy cheesiness at the beginning to a more wholesome cheesiness near the end, where speeches about the power of friendship walk right out of your favorite anime into the dialogue. One notable bit of contrast is that, even in the serious parts of the story early on, Sonic himself is never particularly serious. He’s always chattering away and making wisecracks, which actually ends up being very entertaining due to everything else around him. If you only let yourself enjoy things that are legitimately good, you’ll probably be irritated, but anyone who can let themselves go and laugh at a B-movie atmosphere will have a lot of fun watching the cutscenes.

Replay Value

The game’s main story clocks in at only 4-ish hours over its 30 main stages/boss fights, but it doesn’t seem like it should really be any longer. It’s not particularly difficult to beat, either. There’s a good amount of replay value: like previous 3D Sonic games, you’re ranked on your score at the end of levels, so getting S ranks on every stage is one way to get a good amount of time from the game. Each stage also has five Red Rings to find, giving you a reason to revisit levels and find all the different paths. Once you’ve collected all the Red Rings in a stage, a set of Number Rings will appear, which have to be collected in order from 5 to 1 descending. And once you’ve collected all of those, a set of Silver Moon Rings will appear in a level, which must all be collected in a short period of time. Red Rings are the only of these collectibles that unlock extra levels; the others are purely for satisfaction, avatar items, and Trophies/Achievements. The extra levels aren’t particularly meaty; they’re purely 2D platforming challenges with either Modern Sonic or the custom character that are focused around singular gimmicks that don’t appear in the rest of the game. They’re fun enough, I guess, but they don’t really take advantage of what makes this kind of Sonic game special. Finally, the game has leaderboards for level times, though unsurprisingly they seem to be hacked to hell and back on the PC version. Since getting the best times in levels takes a lot of clever optimization, it can be a lot of fun to do your absolute best. If you’re not driven to better yourself, though, then Sonic Forces loses a lot of appeal, as a single playthrough will be over pretty quickly.

Conclusion

At its best, Sonic Forces is a fast-paced, fun action platformer where you’ll be blazing through cool environments and feeling the flow as you nail all your homing attacks, boosts, Wispon moves, quick steps, and slides. At its worst, you’ll be wondering why Sonic Team bothered to bring back Classic Sonic at all. Sonic Forces also doesn’t have much to offer in the way of exploration, nor is its main story all that long, so if you don’t like optimizing your performance then you’ll find yourself uninterested pretty quickly. Still, if you like the feeling of nailing every movement, Sonic Forces is a lot of fun, even if the levels feel like they should be a bit more fleshed out. If you already dislike the boost gameplay from Unleashed, Colors, and Generations, Forces won’t change your mind. If you enjoyed those games, or if you just have an open mind, most of this game can be a solid piece of entertainment. Plus, there’s a special joy that comes from dressing your cartoon animal up in completely ridiculous outfits. As a budget title (launching at $40), there’s a good amount of fun to be had in Sonic Forces, despite its issues. Hopefully Sonic Team takes the right lessons from this game and sticks to the fast-paced boost gameplay they’ve been building on and look to the future while leaving the imitations and celebrations of the series’s early days to the fine folks who made Sonic Mania.

Buy if:

you already like “Boost Sonic”

you enjoy optimizing your performance in short, action-packed challenges

you can stomach a couple of irritating bits

you enjoy chuckling at goofy, cheesy writing

Avoid if:

you’re looking for a solid Classic Sonic experience

you prefer longer games or exploration in your platformers

you’re not used to adjusting to controls that feel different from the genre standard

cheesy things irritate you

[holocron-inthe-restrictedsection]

We Have Lost

Another criminal was approaching, and this one didn’t feel like he could be turned away with a simple Force suggestion. He stalked forward, working himself up to get his adrenaline flowing, ready to send bodies flying.

Barriss Offee allowed herself a faint smile. I’ll have to show him how it’s done.

“What’re you smirking at, Jedi?” the Gormak snarled, stalking towards her. The few other prisoners that had been gathered at the far end of her table scattered, abandoning their measly lunches to avoid the rage of the towering figure.

I am not a Jedi anymore, she thought. I’ll never seek to claim that status again. Traitors and hypocrites, the lot of them.

“Nothing much,” Barriss answered, taking another spoonful of the runny mash. “Merely seeing how close you think you can get before I’ll stop you.”

The Gormak guffawed, taking another step. “You can’t stop me. You’re nothing but a child.”

“A moment ago you called me ‘Jedi’. There are no children in the Jedi Order, don’t you know? Only pawns.”

The red frills that ringed his face shuddered as his features twisted into a scowl. “I got no interest in your grudges. I got my own to settle. Was a Jedi that got me in here. And since you’re the only Jedi available –” He made a grand sweeping gesture at the mess hall, and Barriss let her gaze wander about the wide space.

This prison certainly made one feel small and defenseless. The arching ceilings, ringed with auto-cannons and shock troopers, watching every movement of every prisoner, fingers hovering just above the trigger – it made Barriss feel trapped. That was the point, of course, and she had to admit, the architects who created the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center certainly knew their trade. However, that trapped feeling manifested in all beings here at one time or other, most often resulting in frayed nerves and twitching fingers anxious to pick a fight.

“Find someone else to settle your score,” Barriss advised. “You’ll simply embarrass yourself.”

The Gormak’s massive hands clenched and he rumbled as he took two steps forward. He drew back a fist –

Barriss raised her arm and felt the Force surge through her, wrapping around the criminal and holding him in place. He grunted in surprise, eyes narrowing in rage, arm still raised.

“You had your chance.” Barriss shoved with the Force, and the Gormak hurtled through the air, colliding with a Trandoshan halfway across the hall. The two toppled to the floor and were up in an instant, snarling at each other.

“I’ll kill you, Jedi scum!” the Gormak roared, backing away from the reptilian being.

“You can try,” said Barriss, mostly to herself as she took a drink of water.

The shock troopers were already descending. “Break it up!” One of them barked, brandishing an electrostaff at the Gormak. “Back off!”

The criminal seethed and teetered for a moment, his red eyes darting between Barriss and the weapon. Anger coiled around him, and Barriss braced herself for another assault, but he turned abruptly, making for a group of beings at the other end of the hall.

It did not escape her notice that four red-plated troopers had surrounded her, warily extending their electrostaffs. The captain of this particular group approached, blaster trained on her. Barriss met his gaze.

“Had fun with your Force trick, scum? You wanna see how well it works on us?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Damn right it won’t.” The trooper gestured with the blaster. “Get up. Free time’s over.”

Barriss managed not to sigh, but with difficulty. Instead, she set down her spoon and rose slowly, so as not to startle the troops. These Coruscant clones did not have the same innate respect, loyalty, or admiration for the Jedi that their brothers on the front lines did. She appreciated that they weren’t enamored with the mere concept of Jedi, and seemed to actively dislike them. It suited her just fine; she was just another orange jumpsuit in a sea of beings who had brought harm to others.

Electrostaffs still humming, the squad escorted her down a long tunnel back to the echoing holding chambers. She stepped aboard the platform and was lifted high into the air. Her isolated chamber was almost at the top of the domed holding cells, and reinforced by a particularly potent ray shield.

Once she stepped into the room, the shield sprang up behind her, and she felt the guards’ immediate relief. They were afraid of her. It hung onto their armor like an odor, agitating the inmates around them. Barriss knew she could kill them if she wanted to. But she had no desire to end their lives; she was content with her imprisonment. After all, she had already gone through that which she wanted all Jedi to go through – a trial for their crimes, and a fitting sentence.

The Council had expelled her from the Jedi Order, and as such, she was now subject to the laws and penalties of the Republic. Just like Ahsoka. It had come as a surprise, then, that she was not sentenced to death. The prosecutor had been some other Admiral of the Republic forces, rather than the grudge-bearing Tarkin that had charged Ahsoka, and she had been more than happy to sentence Barriss to a life term in the high-security prison. There are worse fates.

Alone in her cell, she sat on the floor, folding her legs beneath her and settling into meditation. She found she enjoyed the time alone; it allowed her to sift through her thoughts, contemplating the hypocrisy that was the Jedi Order. Not for the first time, she considered how blind they all were – to plunge through the galaxy, sending troops to their deaths without a second thought, obediently following the Senate’s whims and tantrums. The Council claimed they would not sacrifice their morals to achieve victory, and so they allowed the war to drag on, letting worlds fall one by one to the dark side. They were only prolonging the inevitable ruin of the Republic. And so many more would die before that happened.

After some time of mediation, a tremor shook the Force. Barriss opened her eyes and frowned. Something…bad had happened. Some shift that she could not understand. A moment later, she became aware of two shock troopers returning, the platform rising towards her. It can’t be time for the evening meal yet…

And then she felt it: an awful, familiar, warm presence in the Force.

Barriss leapt to her feet and spun around just as the platform connected with her chamber and the ray shield dropped.

“Five minutes,” the clone said curtly, stepping back and allowing a Mirialan woman to pass into the cell.

“Of course, Captain,” Luminara Unduli said quietly. With effort, she directed her gaze to the girl before her. “Apprentice.”

“Master.” The word felt heavy on Barriss’ tongue.

Her former Master looked more tired than Barriss had ever seen her. The lines beneath her eyes aged her far beyond her years, and her mouth was tightly pursed. Could she truly have changed so much? It had been several months, but even so…

“I thought I knew what I would say to you once I was here,” Luminara mused. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever come,” Barriss said.

Luminara nodded. “I wasn’t going to. The Council advised against it – they do not approve of me being here.”

“Then why are you?” The words came out harsher than Barriss intended.

The older woman was silent for a moment while she thought. “When I first began training you, I believed that I would prepare myself enough to let you go. That I would allow the time to come and go as it needed to, and while I would mourn, I would celebrate you.” Her focused sharpened, her voice taking on an edge. “But not like this. This is not the end I saw for you.”

“I had to do something. I could no longer be silent and participate in the actions the Council demanded.”

“You directly caused the death of others, apprentice. You almost caused a fellow Padawan to be executed for your crimes.”

“And the Jedi allow other beings to die by the thousands and believe they are doing nothing wrong.”

“We are fighting for freedom!”

“And what of the systems that seceded?” Barriss demanded. “The ones who see that the Republic is stagnant, that the Senate is full of fools dragging their feet in an attempt to line their own pockets. You aren’t allowing them to be free to establish their own government that isn’t corrupt! You’re forcing them to remain chained to a system that disregards the poverty of its people in favor of their own wealth! How is that freedom?”

Luminara’s reply was heated. “And the droid armies lead by Dooku’s minions? The armies that overrun peaceful settlements with no thought to survivors or cultures?”

Barriss shook her head and sat stiffly on the edge of her hard bunk. “If the Senate had offered aid to the seceding systems, they wouldn’t have had to rely on Dooku’s forces to ensure their separation.”  

“You are being naïve,” Luminara scolded. “This war is more complex than that.”

“But no one’s thinking it through! There are so many details that have been taken for granted, so many risks taken without any second thought. And we’re supposed to accept it.”

Barriss turned away from her former Master. Her blood boiled that Luminara did not see the injustice of it all. How could she defend the spiraling Order? This was the woman she had admired for so long? Barriss had craved Luminara’s approval, longed to be seen as competent and wise. And this is where we stand. The tightness of the cell seemed to press around her, shortening her breath. Barriss turned back and stared down the older Mirialan. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Luminara’s lips parted as though she were going to say something, but then she paused. A frown creased her brow and she glanced away, as though concentrating on a far-away sound. Barriss felt it then too; a shudder in the Force, long and continuous, growing each moment like the death throes of some wounded animal. Something was very wrong.

Without another word, her former Master turned and began walking back to the waiting platform. The clone captain had one hand raised to his helmet, most likely listening to some comm chatter.

“Alive. Very well. It will be done, my lord,” he said suddenly. He nodded to his companion, and they both raised their blasters.

“Captain, what’s –”

Luminara got no further. Several blue rings of energy erupted from the ends of the weapons, striking her in the chest, one after another. She collapsed on the floor of the cell, stunned.

“Master!” Barriss jumped forward, but fell to her knees as the captain hit her with a single jolt of energy.

The troopers rushed forward and seized Luminara, dragging her onto the platform and raising the ray shield behind them. Barriss lurched forward to see the platform rise to the highest chamber. She watched, wide-eyed, as the soldiers lowered the shield – even more complex than the one that held Barriss – and tossed the Jedi Master in.

As the clones re-shielded the cell and began their decent, Barriss’ legs gave out and she crumpled back to the ground. As she fixed her eyes on the cell above, the trembling in the force growing, and the realization crashed down on her in one moment of fascinated horror.

Jedi are dying.

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 For @finish-the-clone-wars writing Wednesday prompt “Prison”