#i did so much research when i started mapping out four and its lore

[65ths]

Swordfish, tuna, mackerel, salmon, squid, abalone, crab, prawn, and spiny lobster—District 4 is the Capitol’s source for seafood. The fisheries, canneries, and boat crews of District 4 work around the clock to supply the Capitol’s demand for ocean delicacies.

im not saying i had my little fisheries split up into certain kinds of catch and crews but i didn’t not split them up by certain kinds of catch and crew

[unityghost]

Resurrection

This, the twentieth installment of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series, builds on two suggestions from readers.

1. A happy (ish) scene when Gabriel gets his grace back in a substantive way for the first time and has a real moment of hope for the future would be lovely. - Anonymous (Archive)

2. "I wondered if you'd ever considered what Gabriel's reaction would be if any of them (but especially Sam) came back from a hunt injured, and for whatever hand-wavy reason Castiel didn't immediately heal them [I dunno, send Cas out on a separate hunt with Jack, or be running low on grace and unable to, if I were to brainstorm reasons]." - @gammaspectrum (on Archive)

A side-note: As with Scratches, (yikes, that feels like such a long time ago - I get embarrassed rereading my old stories), I had to set this in Rhode Island because that's where I come from. I tend to feel uneasy mapping out anywhere else so easily in my head (except New York! Maybe sometime I'll do something fun with that).

Rhode Island has a wealth of vampire lore. Sarah Tillinghast and Mercy Brown (known as Lena in day-to-day life) are two of the best-known cases:

https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/26/the-vampire-case-of-sarah-tillinghast/

https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/07/the-vampire-case-of-mercy-brown/

Finally, I've written Jack as I normally would: all innocence. I'm pretty squirmy about what just happened in canon.

A general warning: this story (like many of the others) contains subtle references to sexual assault.

“What did you say these were called?” asked Jack.

Gabriel took a sip from his plastic cup of water. Stay hydrated, Sam had reminded him. “Vines. They’re called Vines.”

“I thought a vine was a plant.”

“Yes, these too crawl across the wall that is your brain and overshadow what used to be your identity.”

Jack squinted at the laptop screen. The two of them had gotten lucky with a reliable internet connection in such a run-down motel. “These do seem like something Dean would enjoy in his down-time.”

“Not him. Castiel. Who I think probably found them by accident when he was helping research those vampires they’re after. I happened to be in the same room at the same time and we spent an hour or two just, you know, watching them. All of them. Four hours, maybe? I’m not saying I’m ashamed, but also don’t ask me if I’m ashamed.”

“Sam and Cas said they weren’t looking for vampires,” Jack corrected. “The lore says ‘vampire,’ but they seem to think they’re dealing with vengeful spirits.” He paused. “Why’d you decide to come on the case with them? You hate Rhode Island.”

"I don't hate Rhode Island; I just remember that even in the horse-and-buggy era these people had no sense of vehicular coordination. Anyway, Sam said I can’t be trusted to be by myself for more than two hours at a time without going full Black Swan. And I’m in no position to disagree with him. Besides, I told them I could give them a hand if they wanted me to. Mother Sam insisted I need rest instead. But I’ve had more than my fair share of that.”

Before Jack could reply, there was the familiar billow of wings and Castiel appeared in the room.

“Guys,” he panted.

It was several seconds before Gabriel managed to take in the scene before him. Sam’s arm was slung over Castiel’s shoulders. His face was white and sweaty, and his breaths quick and ragged.

“Sam!” Jack leapt off the bed and hurried over to them.

Gabriel simply stared as they eased Sam onto the bed. “Sam?”

“I can’t heal him,” Castiel ground out. “One of those women, she - well, first she pinned me to the ground and then Sam got her attention so that she attacked him instead. Whatever she did, it took away enough of my grace that I can’t help him. And she seems to have stolen his breath.”

Gabriel blinked. “You can heal him. You have to.”

“I tried. More than once.”

“Try again.”

Just then Sam began gasping, choking, clawing for air that wouldn’t come.

Gabriel pushed himself up from the bed, and somewhere in his mind he registered the slapstick still playing in the background. “Castiel.”

Cas turned to Jack. “Call for help. Dial 911.”

“What are we supposed to tell them?” cried Jack.

“Don’t worry about that; just call them.”

Jack looked around for his cell phone and found it beside the laptop, under a fold in the bedspread.

Feeling dazed, Gabriel picked up Sam’s wrist. His heartbeat was quick and blurry, the surest indicator of a body in panic.

“Sam,” he said again, feeling dazed and distant, eyes trained on Sam’s purpling face.

Even though he knew it was pointless, Gabriel still reflexively tugged at his grace in moments like this. If he wanted to fix something he would normally be able to rectify with his powers, reaching for them was involuntary.

It was also humiliating, since he knew that there was no reason to expect results. Yet here and now, he reached for it, ached for it, hated himself for not having it.

As Sam’s pulse grew slower and weaker, Gabriel wondered what nauseating twist of fate could have turned this seemingly simple hunt into something so disastrous.

“Uncle Gabriel?”

Gabriel tried to speak and found he couldn’t. His skin prickled with icy sweat.

Am I panicking? he wondered. Am I freaking out and I’m not even really freaking out? Is my brain frozen but the rest of me knows what’s happening? What the hell?

“Cas!” shrieked Jack. “Something’s wrong with Uncle Gabriel!”

“Call 911,” Castiel commanded. “I’ll help Gabriel.”

Gabriel grew dizzy, and the next thing he knew there were hands on him, and then a second pair of hands.

“No!” he screeched, struggling, trying to throw them off, not sure whom to fight first.

“Let go!” Gabriel howled. "Let go of me!"

Someone called his name. Gabriel screamed, trying to force release.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel’s vision edged in and out. He couldn’t see who was holding him down.

“Gabriel, stop! It’s okay, it’s us! It’s Sam and Cas! Hey hey hey, calm down Gabriel, calm down; it’s okay!”

At last, Gabriel managed to wrench himself out of their grip, then rolled over and, with a cry of pain, landed on the floor. He blinked, panting on all fours, trying to let things come back into focus.

“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, crouching beside him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe.”

Gabriel raised his eyes, trying to get a deep breath. “Oh god. Sam? Sam - ”

“Yeah, I’m right here, buddy.”

Gabriel shivered. “I’m freezing cold.”

“Okay, it’s okay; come on.”

Sam started to pull Gabriel to his feet, but Gabriel shook his head. “Dizzy. Can’t get up. Sorry.”

A moment later, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. He collapsed onto the dirty carpet, trying to will away his headache. The spilled cup of water stared back at him. An ant had crawled into it.

There was a rapid knock at the door, then a woman’s voice. “Who the hell is that screaming in there? Do I gotta call the police?”

Cas frowned and went to open the door. Gabriel couldn’t see who was standing there, but he heard Castiel’s reply: “My son, he’s … terrified of cockroaches. Right, Jack?”

A pause. Then, with surprising persuasiveness: “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life!”

“Jesus,” said the stranger, “Keep it together next time. Thought someone was bein’ freakin’ murdered.”

As the door slammed shut again, Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Do you know where you are?”

“New Hampshire.”

“Rhode Island.”

“Only two New England states with three syllables. Can’t remember which is which.”

“Can you get into bed if we give you a hand? Nice and slow?”

“Don’t even try.”

“Okay. All right. Gabriel, what do you remember?”

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to think. “Got upset about … about ...”

“You were upset,” said Castiel, “Because Sam couldn’t breathe.”

Gradually, the picture grew clearer: Sam groping for breath, nearing a painful end on a bourbon-stained motel mattress.

Gabriel gasped and jerked upright. The room spun around him and he immediately collapsed again. “Ah, shit.”

“Easy,” said Sam, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m all right now. Everything’s all right.”

“But how?” Gabriel croaked. “Did it wear off on its own? Because the prognosis looked like a Maroon 5 cover band sounds.”

“Um … well … funny story …” Sam scratched the back of his head. “I think you healed me.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Gabriel spoke. “That’s not a funny story.”

“You were holding onto me - like this - ” Sam grasped his own wrist, demonstrating. “And you healed me.”

The words swam through Gabriel’s head. He struggled to distinguish one from the other. “What exactly happened?”

“It’s really that simple,” Castiel explained. “It appeared you were caught up in some sort of adrenaline rush, or whatever the angelic equivalent might be. Jack and I both felt your grace - it was like an electric shock. There wasn’t much, but it seems you had enough to save Sam’s life.”

Gabriel turned his eyes to Sam, trying to focus on his face. “What?”

“Cas,” Sam said in a low voice, “If you can help me lift him, get him into bed - ”

"Oh shut up, Sam; I know I’m a charity case, but I swear if either one of you tries to carry me I’ll … I’ll, uh … do whatever I’d threaten to do if I could remember how to make words happen.”

“We just want you to be comfortable,” said Castiel.

“Are you kidding me? This carpet feels like a feather bed after eight hundred years of slimy concrete.”

“All right,” Sam said quietly, “All right. We won’t move you. Do you need anything? Another cup of water, maybe?”

“Not until I can lift my head. What about Jack, where’d he go?”

There was a moment of hesitation. Then Castiel answered, “He had to go outside. He told me the grace was … a little much for him. A surprise. He didn’t expect so much energy all at once.”

“Shouldn’t you have been the one who was affected? He’s half-archangel. He’s supposed to be able to put up with a lot.”

“Well, yes, but I’ve had more experience with exposure to other angels’ grace. It seems to have jarred him. He said he needed some fresh air.”

“Well, go find him. Help him. He needs you, Cas."

Sam and Castiel exchanged a glance, and Gabriel saw Sam’s tiny nod: He wants to talk to me alone.

“Okay,” Cas said to Gabriel. “I’ll go check on Jack. Sam, come find me if you need anything, all right?”

As soon as Castiel had shut the door, Gabriel said, “Start from the beginning.”

“Oh. Well … one of the spirits, Sarah Tillinghast, is supposed to have died of tuberculosis back in the late eighteenth century, then taken out her brothers and sisters in the same way by sitting on them in the middle of the night. The locals figured she was some kind of vampire and dug up her grave. Found the body well-preserved, which I guess they took as confirmation. So they cut out her heart and burned it.”

“Ah. I take it that didn’t do anything except double her beef with them.”

“Yeah, and some hundred years later, another girl - Mercy - same thing happened. Only she doesn’t seem to have been as malicious. People who end up near either of the grave sites report seeing them together a lot. Looks like they formed a friendship.”

“Partners in crime, huh?”

“Not so much. Sarah did most or all of the killing, and Mercy just sort of stuck around. I think she didn’t do as much to deserve the reputation she ended up with. Either she wanted to spend her career as a vengeful spirit being not so vengeful and hanging out with Sarah or couldn’t get away from her for some reason. So Sarah attacked us - Cas first, then me when I managed to pull her off him - while Mercy watched. Not like she was enjoying it. More like she was used to it, but it kind of made her sad. I guess Sarah takes away the life force in whatever she’s got under her; so for me that was the ability to breathe, and for Cas it was apparently his grace.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Turned out they weren’t vampires at all, just plain old pissed-off spirits. We burned one of Sarah’s old skirts - the Tillinghasts have had it for a while; they said they’d held onto it for generations because they knew what might happen if a hunter found it. Apparently we’re not the first to try getting rid of her.”

“But why the hell wouldn’t they want her gone?”

“She’d killed off at least one kid every generation. And when a hunter first tried to get a hold of her, she got angrier and killed more. A pair of twins, the family said, and the baby that came after. This was all the way back in the 1940’s. And then I guess no one gave it another shot. Mercy was a little tougher; we had to actually dig her up to get anything that belonged to her. Dean is on his way back now. But listen, I’d rather not get too hung up on the case, okay? We need to focus on you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

“Not great. Don’t wanna move. Cold. Head hurts. Might vomit."

“Gabriel.” Sam offered a genuine smile. “You realize what this means, right? Your grace. It’s on its way back.”

Gabriel didn’t reply.

“Gabriel?” said Sam. “Aren’t you happy about that?"

“I …” Gabriel closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. “Yeah.”

Sam waited for him to go on.

Gabriel sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Why?” Sam sounded perplexed. “Why wouldn’t this be a good thing?”

Gabriel kept his eyes shut. “I didn’t realize I had that much.”

“So it should be a nice surprise, shouldn’t it?”

“No.” Gabriel opened his eyes. “I didn’t realize it was there, and … Sam, why is it that I’m still such an epic disaster if I’ve got enough grace not to be?”

A pause, and then: “You think you have to get back to normal just because your grace does?”

Gabriel swallowed. “It isn’t just that.”

“Then what?” When Gabriel remained silent, Sam pressed, “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Gabriel’s throat tightened.

“Are you just … not ready or something? Is it too much to take in all at once?”

“No, I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Gabriel started to speak, but the words were too heavy. There was no way he could say what he had to say without breaking down.

Sam spoke softly. “It’s that bad?”

Gabriel tried to take a deep breath but didn’t quite manage it. “I - um - I thought - ” He fixed his eyes upon the moldy ceiling. “I thought that if - that when it started to come back, and I got to be more like who I was - ” His stomach churned with the effort of keeping himself together. “I thought I could help you. And if my grace comes back and I can’t help you, then - ”

“Whoooaaa, whoa whoa whoa.” Sam held up a hand. “We’ve covered this before. None of us want you around just because you could be useful. And we’re not throwing you away if you can’t be. What’s bringing that up again?”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Lately I’ve noticed that you treat my brother as an angel first and a friend second. I figure that’s me too. An archangel, and then a passion project, and then maybe a friend. A pet. A stray. I don’t know.”

“Come on, that’s - ”

“And even if I’m wrong, it’s not fair if I can’t repay you. You deserve compensation for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve sacrificed.”

“Why would you think we expect you to pay us for anything? We’ve been over this. You’re not a house guest, Gabriel.”

“Well, whatever I am, if my grace comes backs and I end up still feeling so afraid all the time, and if I collapse every time I use it, I can’t give you what you deserve. I don’t care whether or not you think you should have it; if I can’t pay my dues, I might as well never have come to stay at all.”

Sam shook his head. “We don’t want anything from you.”

"The point is that you should want something from me. So I’d like to be able to give you a hand with cases. To take the fall you just did and get back up faster. It’d be a good deal - you guys get a little extra ammo, and I get somewhere to hang out.”

“Gabriel, listen - ”

“I know it’s supposed to get better,” Gabriel interrupted, “But better than this is a low standard. And I hate that I’ll never be like I was. Because the the only thing I’ll accept is a total reversal of what’s happening now.” He paused, forcing himself under control. “When I left Heaven - ah, man, it was great. I had so much freedom and I didn’t have to conform to whatever stupid demands those callous asshats came up with. And I knew I wasn’t gonna go back; it was out of the question, but … there was also no replacing what I’d left behind. And of course I had to leave it behind; it was going to kill me, watching all that pointless brutality. But Sam … no matter what I did, no matter where I went, no matter how many friends or lovers or whatever that I came across - I could only pretend to call them family. I could use even enemies to distract me, and to remind me that I’d made a whole world for myself. But at the end of the day, no one and nothing could take the place of - of them."

Sam looked away. “I know. There’s no putting that back. Not really.”

Hearing somebody else say it was more than Gabriel could bear to focus on, so he kept talking. "Let's say my grace does come back to full power, and I don’t wind up half-dead on a flea-infested motel room floor swaddled in a dirty blanket. Let’s say I get back to normal, in terms of angel-ness. But in any case I’m still going to need you propping me up like a cheap Raggedy Ann knockoff, because I’ll get to thinking about him and I’ll run straight to you, whining for TLC.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “What’s the point? What’s the point in letting my grace fill up again if I’m still just going to need help all the time? And this drives it home. My grace is there, but me? I’m not there, Sam. I’m gone.”

Sam took his hand. “You’re not gone. I knew you before you got hurt. You’re not that different.”

“I don’t want to listen to make-believe BS.”

“Gabriel.” Sam tightened his grip. “You’re not anyone else just because you’ve changed.”

“Well, I don’t like that!” Gabriel was angry now. He tried to sit up but simply dropped back down, too weak to hold his head over the floor. “Whoever I was before all this happened, I never thought about it. There was a hazy cutoff between good and evil and I was happy to straddle the line. All I cared about was how to fix what wasn’t fair, and if that meant hurting the people who screwed with justice, I spent no time questioning whether to take them out. Then, in my downtime, I was happy to indulge myself: food tasted good, so I ate it; sex felt good, so I made it into a game. This was all so easy, Sam. I never wondered about something being fundamentally wrong with me. I never felt like just being in the same room with someone was a sin, because I make everything filthy.”

Sam stared at him, mouth agape.

“And don’t you dare try to compare this to your situation with Lucifer,” Gabriel barreled on. “This isn’t a you-mess; this is a me-mess. The kind of mess that would have Marie Kondo convulsing on the ground frothing at the mouth. I don’t know how to handle how much of a horror show I am. And how to deal with the knowledge that I can’t ever, ever be what I was. And then wondering if I was actually the same scum I am today, except then I was blind to it, and - and I don’t know if I want to be me again. I don’t know who I was; I just remember not being worried about it. I felt comfortable in my own company. The only thing in all of Dad's creation I found even remotely intimidating was pasta with ketchup on it, because what kind of freak does that, but Sam - I don’t want that me back. Because I don’t want to be any version of me."

For a few moments, Sam didn’t say anything. Then, at last: “I know you think that you were tortured because you deserved it. That it was meant to happen, because you were just bad. Inherently bad. And that Asmodeus could see that and did what had to be done.”

Gabriel looked up at him, and hated the kindness written into the crease of Sam’s brow. It turned his stomach to think that that was meant for him.

And yet, in spite of all that, Gabriel longed for this storm to stop: the fear, and the doubt, and the hatred. He wanted to be rid of the guilt he felt over having access to Sam’s affection.

Gabriel couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t be punished for letting that happen.

“But you weren’t,” Sam went on gently, “And he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel whispered. “I thought I’d be happy. I just didn’t expect that I’d still be like … like this.”

Sam offered a small smile. “Well, can you at least stop worrying about being useful? Or thinking we’re gonna make you leave just because you’ve started to heal? You trust me, right?”

“I’ve run out of excuses not to.”

“Then take my word for it.”

“Mm.”

Sam peered more closely at him. “No, hey, don’t do that. You know you’ll make yourself sick if you try too hard to keep yourself together."

“I’m okay.”

“Gabriel, man, it’s just me. You’re allowed.”

“I - I know, I just … I’m …” Gabriel turned over, so that his cheek was pressed into the grainy carpeting.

“Gabriel, I can help you get in bed. You’ll be so much warmer. Just close your eyes if you’re still dizzy.”

The notion of warmth appealed enough that, after a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel replied, “Okay.”

Sam eased him upright, and Gabriel did as he’d suggested and shut his eyes. Getting into bed was quicker and easier than he’s anticipated, even if it did make him feel dizzier.

“You’re okay,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and covering him with the blanket again. “I guess that healing really did a number on you, huh? I’m sorry you had to resort to it.”

“You were dying, Sam.”

“I know, but … I wish you’d had the opportunity to use it on something else.”

“I know, right? The other day there was this crazy stubborn pickle jar. Should’ve blown all my grace on that. Definitely worth the hangover.”

Sam searched his face. “Do you wanna talk?”

“We just did.”

“Yeah, but I feel like you didn’t tell me everything.”

“Oh come on. I always tell you everything.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know, you just seem … like you need something, I guess. I don’t know. Do you?”

Gabriel tensed. “What would I need, huh? You just gave me a hundred percent of my daily dose of coddling.”

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Please.”

“Why? What do you want to know? What d’you think I’m gonna tell you?”

“Well, maybe nothing. It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just … I’d like you to be honest. It’s better for you than keeping it bottled up.”

Gabriel gave a harsh laugh. “As if I keep anything hidden from you anymore.”

“I know you do. I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me.”

Gabriel gave no response, because Sam was right: more than once, Gabriel had stipulated that there were memories he simply couldn’t share with anyone, not even Sam. There were some things he simply didn’t want Sam to see.

“All right,” said Sam, “All right. When you’re ready. Whatever makes you feel okay.”

“Ah yes, my pastime of choice: being okay.”

Sam was silent, and perhaps he was aware that silence was sometimes the trick.

Gabriel averted his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I just need a little time to get back on my feet.”

“Mm. Okay.”

There was another hush between them, and Gabriel wondered if perhaps Sam already suspected what was on his mind.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Look, would you - I know you wouldn’t, but - I have to ask.”

Sam waited.

Gabriel steeled himself. “Would you ever take it? Would you dig into my grace if you really needed it right away, and I was being stubborn about it?”

“No.” Sam sounded too calm. Yes, he must have been prepared for the question.

“Because it hurts," Gabriel said.

“I know it does, Gabriel.”

“So if it’s there … I mean, you could take it.”

“We don’t want your grace. We want you to be okay. And taking your grace wouldn’t exactly help that along, would it? We care about you,not your grace.”

“I know, but …”

“Look, you don’t believe me. Not in the way I wish you would. I don’t think I can change your mind right now. But no, nobody’s gonna touch your grace. We won’t touch you at all if you don’t want us to.”

“You. You can.” Gabriel reached for him, and Sam held his hand again. Gabriel wondered if this ever embarrassed him.

Sam certainly didn’t seem perturbed. “How come you didn’t let me know what you were upset about?”

“Because part of me knows it’s a really dumb question. But I’m still … I don’t know … I can’t help it.”

“You should’ve asked me. Maybe if you hear me say it over and over again it’ll click.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, your grace is all yours. Do you know that now? It doesn’t belong to any of us. And none of us think it should.”

Gabriel stared up at him, fingers too limp for a proper grasp. He hoped Sam wouldn’t take that as an indication that it was time to let go. “I think about what would happen if it turned out you weren’t telling me the truth. I can’t get that out of my mind. Because it would be worse, way worse, than having Asmodeus barge in here and just snatch me up again. I know who he is. I know he’d do that.” Gabriel tried to keep his breathing steady. “But I don’t think you would. My guard is down. Around all of you, but especially around you. I think you really don’t want to do anything to me. Or I think that I think so. So when I get to dwelling on what it would do to me to find out I’m wrong, I just - I can’t - ” He coughed, trying to loosen his throat. “I don’t know if this sounds absurd to you, or if it’s making you angry, but to me it’s a real possibility. After everything he did? There were times he seemed like you, Sam. He wasn’t always throwing me into walls and raking his nails across my back. There were times I begged for him to help me, to hold me. Because I would’ve taken anyone. I just needed somebody to touch me.

“I know that sounds stupid. It was stupid. But I begged for it until my throat started bleeding and I puked up blood. And he’d come in and hug me and let me cry into his lap. The next thing I knew he was doing a whole world of gross to me, and I hated it; I felt exactly the way he wanted me to feel, but he was there, and I needed - I - ” Gabriel pressed his other hand on top of Sam’s. “I needed this. I took it wherever I could find it. And now and again I let myself pretend that maybe he wouldn’t hurt me again, that he’d let me lie there and fantasize that I had someone to do what you’re doing for me. But then he would stop. Of course he would. He always did.”

Sam’s mouth hung open. “You think I would do that?”

“No, I don’t, but I think about what it would be like if you did.”

“I’m not going to.”

“I know! But that doesn’t make me believe you! If I let myself really know, if I let myself say it’s impossible - that’s when I let it become possible.”

Bewildered, Sam shook his head. “You never told me about that. About letting him help.”

“Because it’s hard, Sam! I don’t want to think about it because how could I ever get so low as to need him to stroke my hair and tell me I’d be all right? And who was I to just keep letting him do it? When within five minutes of rubbing my back and giving me that little bit of comfort I’d screamed for, I was back on the floor and the only thing that shut me up was how much heavier than me he was? What if you did that, Sam? What if it was you?”

“Jesus - ” Sam went to pull away his hand.

Gabriel cried out and grabbed it again. “Wait, no! I’m sorry, Sam; I didn’t - “

“Ssh, it’s okay.” Sam tugged his hand out of Gabriel’s grasp and walked to the other side of the bed so that he could recline beside him. “I know you can’t sit up and I thought you might like this better.”

Or, Gabriel thought, It makes you sick to touch me.

“Look,” Sam said softly, “This doesn’t have to be a good thing. Not if you don’t think it is. I know you’re a little freaked out about it. But you can heal again. Or you’ll be able to soon. And I’m sure this side effect will wear off once you get more used to using your grace. But seriously, man - you should be a little proud of yourself. You did what you thought you might never be able to do again.”

“But it was an accident,” Gabriel whispered, desperately wanting Sam to understand that he didn’t deserve praise. “I was scared to the bone and it just sort of happened. I’m glad it did, but it wasn’t because I had the willpower to get things going.”

“You don’t need willpower. Not yet. Eventually you’ll get a better sense of how to handle it.”

“But Sam, if I don’t have control, then - don’t you realize what I could do to you? Or to Dean, or Cas, or Jack? Grace can be used to destroy too.”

“This time you were scared and wanted to help. It’s not as if you’d get mad at one of us and next thing we know we’ve gone up in flames.”

“Sure, maybe, but how does this work? What are the rules? Is it just - ”

“Stop.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “We’ll figure it out. But we can’t do it all today. I need you to take this for what it is: you’re getting closer to having your grace back. And nobody’s gonna try and take advantage of it. And holy crap, Gabe, get rid of that whole thing about me turning into Asmodeus. It’s not going to happen.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “I know. But to me, you could be wrong. I don’t know Sam, I … I know it isn’t real to you. But it’s real to me and I have to be prepared for it.”

Sam shifted so that he could look down at Gabriel. “It can’t be real to you.”

“Well, if that were the case, then this would be a very different conversation.”

“I’m serious. I won’t let you believe that. It’s - it’s so powerful. I can tell. It’s killing you. If you don’t let yourself push that away, he’ll still be in your head. Easier said than done, I get it, but - you have got to let that go. I’m not him, Gabriel. I’m me.”

Gabriel averted his eyes. “That’s what makes it so terrifying.”

Sam sighed and lay back down. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Sam said, “Lucifer used to do it to me. Not that, not the same thing. But I mean - pretending. He wasn’t the one who came to me and helped - he’d wear disguises. People I wished could be there with me. People I loved. It was a little like what you’re telling me about, because it was really just Lucifer all along, but … there were times I genuinely thought I had Dean back with me. Or Dad. Whoever.

“Then I got out, and everything started to come back. You know how it is when Hell starts bleeding into what’s happening right now. So I’d see someone I thought was, you know, not him. And then they’d do something that he got so right - the way they smiled or talked or laughed. He knew everyone in my life so well. I’m not sure how he got into my head like that, but he did. And when I saw the real person doing that, I’d think no, he’s there; he’s waiting to show his face. His real face. It’s not as if that’s completely gone away, Gabriel. I know what it’s like to be afraid that you’re only seeing lies. That you have to be on your toes for a break in the fantasy. And I know this is different for you, since Asmodeus was the one who was there to help and for me, Lucifer turned into someone else. So I guess as far as you’re concerned, I’ll start breaking you apart and I’ll still be Sam. Right?”

Gabriel was too stunned to respond.

“And,” Sam continued, “I always have to ready for a change in someone else. Some sign that they’re not really the person I think I see.”

Gabriel simply stared at him.

“So I think I get it,” Sam finished.

Gabriel took another several moments to collect his thoughts before answering. “You ever think that about me?”

“He did wear your face a few times. Made you seem … demonic. I remember you had this twisted expression on your face; you looked like a nightmare version of yourself. I think he did that because I didn’t have any really dark memories of you. Well - some not-so-great memories of things that happened, I guess, but it’s not as if you yourself ever made me feel like I had to be afraid. So … I guess it comes to mind once in a while. But don’t worry about it; it doesn’t happen that much. I’m just saying I … I know it’s a weird feeling. And I know it’s hard to shake off. But you gotta, man. You can’t get better if you still feel like we’re going to hurt you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “‘We’ doesn’t matter. It’s you I don’t want to lose.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then there was a knock at the door.

“Guys?” called Castiel. “Is everything all right?”

Sam glanced at Gabriel, who said, “Let him in.”

Cas opened the door before either if them could do anything more and surveyed the scene. “Gabriel, you look - ”

“I know. What about you? Are you okay? I’m not the only one of us with busted grace.”

“I’m fine.”

“And Jack?” asked Sam.

Cas opened the door further and Jack stepped in, eyes trained on Gabriel. “There’s nothing wrong with me. But Uncle Gabriel - ”

“I’m sorry about that, fella. I didn’t mean to give you such a shock to your system.”

“It’s okay. I just … I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Made me feel kind of shaky. Like I’d fallen down the stairs or something.”

“But you’re okay now, right? You don’t look any less like a baby penguin, so I take it you don’t feel too beaten up.”

“Uncle Gabriel.” Jack moved closer. “You’re upset. About your grace. I don’t understand why.”

Gabriel’s head was still pounding. He needed to drink something. “I’m not upset. Like you were saying, it just threw me off course.”

“But you look upset.”

Gabriel ignored him. “Would you mind finding some water for me, Sam?”

“Oh - yeah, of course.”

“I’ll get it,” said Cas.

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “You need to chill for a second. I’d get it myself, but - ”

“It’s okay,” said Sam. “Let me grab some for you. Be right back.”

It was strangely difficult to watch him leave the room. After so much discussion about Sam changing his mind, and choosing to abandon or hurt or loathe him, Gabriel wanted him within immediate reach.

“Hey.” Jack spoke softly. “Do you want to talk?”

Gabriel glanced at Cas, who didn’t say anything.

“No,” Gabriel replied finally. “You don’t have to babysit me. They’ll be back any minute and Sam will do his usual good Samaritan act and I’ll have permission to crack open like an egg.”

“You always have permission to do that. Anyway, I was thinking …” Jack bent down to retrieve the laptop, which had fallen onto the floor. “Either you can go to sleep - "

“No thank you. Can't say I expect pretty dreams in this state.”

“ - or we can go back to what we were doing. I liked them. The Vines. It seemed like you were enjoying them too.”

Gabriel shook his head. Jack peered more closely at him, and worry flickered over his face. “Oh no. Uncle Gabriel - ”

“Jack - ” Gabriel clenched his hands into fists beneath the blanket. “I hope you know this isn’t me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s him. Asmodeus. The douchebird who did this to me.”

“The douchebird who did what?”

“Who turned me into this … whatever it is I am now. Look, it’s important to me that you know I wasn’t always this much of a wuss. That it would’ve taken a lot more than a sentimental conversation with Sam to reduce me to this state. I just - it hurt, the stuff he did to me. For so long. He taught me that everything is a threat, and to be scared all the time.”

“And you’re still so scared.”

“I’m terrified, Jack. I’m terrified of everything.”

“What about me? You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know. I know that. It’s just - ”

“Uncle Gabriel, you’re as safe with me as you are with Sam.”

Gabriel gave a weak smile. “That’s anything but your responsibility. Please just trust that this isn’t me. It isn’t me at all.”

“Yes it is.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true. He hurt you. That doesn’t mean he took you away. And besides, I don’t care if you’re afraid. Well - I don’t want you to be; of course I want you to feel safe. But I like you. You’re family.”

“You’re not obligated to like family.”

“No, I don’t mean I like you because you’re family. I like you because you’re you. And I like that you happen to be family. I’m lucky: I like my family.”

“That makes one of us. Oh - except you. And you,” he added to Castiel. “The rest of them can suck a - ”

“You need to go easy on yourself,” Cas interrupted. “You would never treat any of us the way you treat yourself. It’s hard to watch.”

Gabriel squeezed a fistful of the blanket. “It’s not like that. Not that straightforward. Self-love and whatnot, that’s - that’s a sick joke to me. I’m a sick joke. Jack, look, I just need you to understand that this isn’t me. Or that it wasn’t always.”

Jack rested a hand on Gabriel’s head. “I’m sure I would’ve liked you then. But I like you fine right now.”

You shouldn’t, thought Gabriel, and then there was the recurrent guilt of forcing Jack into benevolence that simply wasn’t right, because he didn’t know what Gabriel was. Didn’t know that the thing he was speaking to, the thing he was touching, the thing he claimed to respect, would never be anything other than what Asmodeus had made it into.

When Sam returned, he was holding a fresh cup of water that he helped Gabriel drink by supporting his head.

“You got all sweaty,” Sam observed. “Wanna take a shower?”

“You expect me to stand on a slippery surface without busting my skull open on the wall?”

“Well, you could sit down. Or I could help you.”

“Oh yeah, sure, as soon as that ‘sexy nurse’ costume I ordered on Amazon comes in. Hope I got the size right.”

“Okay, fine; when you feel better.”

Gabriel shivered.

“Should’ve grabbed a blanket too, huh?”

“No. I’m okay. Just a little …”

Sam waited.

“Chilly, I guess. And … it’s hard to get that stuff out of my head.”

“What stuff? The stuff about your grace?”

Gabriel didn’t want to talk about it in front of the others. He knew that Cas and Jack would understand, would probably even try to offer reassurance; but it was something he felt he needed to keep between him and Sam.

“I hate to be a little bitch,” said Gabriel, addressing Jack and Castiel, “But could I have, like, five more minutes to bug Sam? Cas, I know you need to rest, but there’s - I mean - ”

“Of course,” Castiel said softly. “It’s no trouble. Come on, Jack. Let’s watch some Vines out in the hall.”

When they were gone, Sam sat on the bed. “Gabriel?”

“Sam.” Gabriel could picture himself, could see his features crumpling and the tears sliding down his face. There was no longer room for humiliation. He was allowed, Sam had said. So Gabriel allowed himself.

Sam’s eyes brightened with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“What you said - ” Gabriel took tight, shuddering breaths. “You said no, you won’t take it, you won’t use me - ”

“And I meant it.”

“You said you care - ”

“And I do.”

“That you don’t mind if I - that I’m allowed to - this - ”

“And I don’t, and you are.”

“But you still don’t expect me to pay you back, and that’s wrong, Sam!”

“It’s not, but if it was, I wouldn’t give a crap. Just relax. You don’t owe me anything. I promise.”

“You want me to get better, and sometimes I don’t know if I can. So I can’t even give you that.”

“Well, you will get better. And if it takes a long time, it’s all right. I’m not fed up, okay? This whole thing has sucked for you. And as long as you’re here with us - which we all like, by the way - I wanna get you through it as best I can.” He offered a small smile. “Nobody’s forcing me.”

“Your conscience,” Gabriel retorted. “Your conscience is forcing you. You can’t help it. You see a wounded animal and you have to help. Even if you - ” He let out a strangled sob. “Even if you touch it and get diseased in the process.”

Sam started to say something in reply, but Gabriel reached out and seized him, grasping with more force than either of them would have thought possible. “I wish I cared more about how diseased you get. I wish I cared more about you than I do about me.”

Sam gazed down at Gabriel’s fingers clasped around his arm. “I get it. It’s okay. I’m glad it’s okay for me to touch you.”

“But the problem is I - ”

“You need it, I know. You want it.”

Sam had said that deliberately, Gabriel supposed. He knew how much Gabriel hated that word, how much he needed to get used to it again.

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” Sam went on. “You can ask for it.”

Gabriel was silent.

“Gabriel … you gotta stop being so violent with yourself. Come on, I’m here; you’re not contaminating me.” Sam tugged his arm from Gabriel’s grip and, for the second time, lay down beside him.

“You shouldn’t let me be like this,” Gabriel croaked. “You shouldn’t let me keep losing control.”

“Why not?”

“It makes more work for you and it keeps me from getting better.”

Sam shook his head. “You really think holding everything in would be more productive?”

“I … I don’t know. I think maybe.”

“Well, I don’t. And you trust me, right?”

“I think so.”

“You know I’m not Asmodeus?”

Gabriel didn’t reply.

“You know I’m not going to force your grace out of you?” Sam coaxed.

Gabriel felt tears trickle over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and into his ears. Yes, he knew that Sam wasn’t Asmodeus.

And that was the problem. If someone was going to take advantage of Gabriel’s grace, it would be Sam. And imagining Sam in the role of Asmodeus, as Sam Winchester, was uniquely sickening.

“Gabriel?” said Sam.

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You mean - ”

“I mean this.” Gabriel pressed his face into Sam’s chest. Sam seemed to have been prepared for this: he wrapped his arms around Gabriel immediately, as if on cue or by reflex.

Neither of them spoke.

I needed this.

Gabriel shivered, trying to soak up some of Sam’s warmth.

It’s just me. You’re allowed.

“Sam,” Gabriel whimpered.

I know there's stuff you haven't told me.

“Yeah, Gabe, what is it?” Sam replied.

When you’re ready.

“Sam … there’s too much you don’t know. Too much I haven’t let you in on. I’m sorry.”

Sam squeezed him closer. “Don’t be sorry. When you’re ready, okay?”

Gabriel shut his eyes, remembering the way Asmodeus used to hold him like this, and yet knowing on an instinctual level that Sam felt different - especially when Gabriel began crying again and Sam only strengthened his grip.

This - with its warmth and firmness - was not the embrace of Asmodeus.

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Five

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 5/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

Somehow even without removing the moonstone from his pocket and giving it a go, Yata still felt the thrumming energy of the sun beating against his body as he settled on the rooftop of the building that housed the bar. Moreso than usual.

So this is it, huh? One of those spots Munakata had mentioned. As expected, since Anna had confirmed it, this really did feel different from the usual energy he got from the sun.

Experimentally, he spread out his wings again, feeling the vibrant warmth soaking into his entire body. It was as comforting as it was invigorating – he could feel the tension and stress in his muscles start to dissipate even as his energy level rose. Closing his eyes for a moment, Yata tilted his face up toward the sun and just took it in.

“Based on that reaction, it seems like this is the right place,” Fushimi commented dryly. When Yata turned to look at him, he was settling himself on the ground, cross-legged. “In any case, you’re the one who manages sun charges, so I’ll leave that to you.”

Again with that irritating tone. Yata scowled at him, but reached into his pocket for the moonstone all the same. It felt cool against his palm as he turned it up to absorb the sun’s energy, and he could get a sense of its response: sluggish and reluctant, as expected. Still, at least it was taking something in. “Yeah, and what are you gonna do? Sleep?”

Fushimi turned one of his hands slightly and a thin laptop manifested within the grip of his fingers. “I’ll be doing something I wouldn’t trust you with,” he responded, opening the device and starting it up. “Researching our next move.”

“Like I wanna do that shit anyway!” Feeling disgruntled but still too curious to let it go, Yata flopped down beside Fushimi, pulling his wings back behind him and still holding the stone on the palm of his hand so it was exposed to the sun. “So? How you gonna figure that out?”

As he watched, Fushimi opened a program that displayed what looked like a 3D map, zoomed out to the point where individual buildings weren’t visible. “This is your city,” he explained dispassionately, tilting the model so that the view was completely top-down. “As up-to-date a view of it as we can get, anyway.” He shifted things again, this time turning the axis of the camera so that the city spun on the screen, and moved the mouse to the top of the map. “North is here, for reference.”

“Ah… right.” Yata wasn’t great with abstraction but he could at least read a map. And he’d done enough rituals to kinda get a sense of where this was heading. “You think the charging points are at like the north, south, east, and west? But you’d need a center point for that, right?”

“I guess you’re not quite as dumb as you come across,” Fushimi murmured, and ignored Yata’s scowl, continuing immediately. “There are two centers that I can think of: this bar, which is our starting point” – he slid the mouse pointer to a blinking spot on the screen and clicked, leaving a red dot with solid lines extending out to all four sides – “and the Captain’s office, which will be our finishing point.” The mouse moved across the screen again, settling at a different location and clicking to create another mark.

Yata blinked at him. “Munakata’s place is the finish line?”

“Almost guaranteed.” Fushimi didn’t even look up, this time spinning the mouse around the places where the solid lines hit the outskirts of the city to create rough circles. “It’s the closest point to where I live – my ‘place I belong to’, so to speak. These other points are a rough estimate; we’ll have to go to the areas and look around for the charging spots.”

“Still, this narrows it down a lot!” Once again, Yata was impressed by how quickly Fushimi had worked it out. “That’s awesome! How’d you think of all that stuff just like that, anyway?”

Fushimi looked up and met his gaze, a slight frown on his lips. There was something almost wary in his eyes. “This isn’t anything special – it’s basic logic.”

“Whatever – it’s still pretty cool to watch you just… go at it, y’know?” Yata grinned back, feeling more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he had since they’d started. There was some honesty in that cautious look that made Fushimi seem like less of a cryptic asshole and more of a closed-off grump. Maybe there was a possibility they could get along eventually. If there’d even be time for it. “With you figuring all that stuff out, we’ll probably be done in no time, huh?”

“We still have to search these areas and find the right spots,” Fushimi reminded him, turning back to his screen. “And as for the last two points…” He circled the two places on the map where the lines from Bar Homra and Munakata’s office intersected. “We might almost want to get those out of the way quickly.”

Yata frowned at the map and then at him, confused. “What’s that mean? What’s special about those places?”

“Just a hunch.” Fushimi was frowning at the map as if he were suspicious of it. “They’re not related to the directional poles but to those so-called ‘places we belong to’, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little more…” He paused, and then finished his sentence with a certain amount of distaste, “personal.”

“Huh.” Yata squinted at the map. “Not sure I get it, but…” Actually, based on where the line extending up from Homra met the line extending out from Munakata’s place was… “Shit,” he muttered out loud, a tiny shock spiking through him as recognition struck. He knew that neighborhood. “Seriously?”

“It’s true, huh?” Fushimi clicked his tongue, eyes flickering from Yata’s face back to the map again. “I guess the other one probably is around the area where that happened, huh?” he mumbled, as if to himself, tapping a finger with restless energy against the side of the laptop.

Yata didn’t bother to ask for clarification, feeling a small pit of dread forming in his stomach as he thought about it. Going back there again, huh? It sounded both painful and pleasant; he could already feel a taste of the mingled good and bad memories rising even at the idea. The thought of going there now, with this asshole getting a sense of all the emotion it was going to bring back… “Fuck.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his head with agitation. “Forget it. Let’s do those last.”

If he had to do it, at least he’d do it when he was close to getting rid of Fushimi and not have to face him for too long afterwards.

Fushimi took in a breath, clicking his tongue again before letting it out. “Not like I have a choice, having to tag along with you everywhere,” he muttered. “Well, I’m not any more eager to go there than you are.” He glanced down towards Yata’s open palm, where the moonstone still rested. “Are you sure that thing isn’t done yet? Overcharging won’t help us any.”

“Huh? Oh.” Yata shrugged. He could still feel the sluggish sense of energy absorption from the stone in his hand, a sense of warmth drawing into the cool, smooth surface of it. “It’s still going. We gotta wait a while, probably; this guy isn’t really stoked about sunlight.”

“‘This guy’, huh?” Fushimi turned his dubious gaze upward, meeting Yata’s eyes. “It’s a rock, you know.”

Yata frowned back. “Yeah, so? Everything’s connected to life somehow, y’know – even rocks. They got a purpose just like everything else.” He raised an eyebrow. “I woulda thought a demon would be better at hearing ’em than regular people, but whatever.” He let out a soft ‘heh’, letting his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Just take my word for it then.”

Fushimi’s eyes narrowed, a tightening in his experience spelling out obvious irritation. “Not everyone can be as in tune with nature as a changeling,” he muttered back, and clicked his tongue a third time. “Demons specialize in human desires, not the feelings of rocks.”

Human desires. Yata took in a breath, bracing himself against the reminder. It probably didn’t just mean those kinds of desires, but he couldn’t help but be aware of how close they were sitting – and the fact that he hadn’t put his shirt back on, leaving his entire torso as well as his wings exposed. At the back of his mind, there was still a vivid memory of the slender, pale-skinned chest and shoulders that he couldn’t seem to shove down. When they were looking at each other like this, close enough to notice when their gazes started to wander with less than innocent intent, it was hard to ignore the familiar shiver that started in his belly and rose up to the back of his chest.

So fucking annoying…

The fact that Fushimi could probably feel all of that through him had his cheeks growing hot again. Yata turned his gaze to scowl down at his hand instead, focusing on the moonstone to avoid the embarrassing reveal and shifting awkwardly at the sharp awareness of eyes on his body. “Yeah, well, that’s why I’m the one in charge of this part, so just leave it to me.”

“I was already planning to do that anyway.” The words came out in a drawl. When Yata looked up again, it was in time to catch Fushimi’s eyelids lowering lazily over his eyes as he gave him another of those heated looks. “Just make sure you focus properly.”

More taunts. Sort of. Yata shoved back the rush of excitement that gaze generated. It's not worth it. Not fucking worth it. “Yeah, yeah.” His voice came out embarrassingly off; he cleared his throat and tried again. “I got this.”

“If you say so.” The corners of Fushimi's mouth edged up into another of those deadly little smirks.

Not worth it, Yata reminded himself one more time, and made a soft ‘ch’ through his teeth as he deliberately turned his gaze away.

Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable. Yata shifted in his seat, closing his eyes and turning his face up towards the sun in an effort to drown out that awkwardly charged mood. The stone in his palm felt strangely heavy for some reason, and he kind of wished he could put it down.

His instincts told him that would be a bad move – and it made sense, he had to grudgingly admit. Despite the fact that he was a being with a natural affinity for moonlight, his personal aspect was the sun, and Munakata was probably right that him carrying this stone around, having contact with it and all, was going to help with this whole charging business. Anything he could do to help it charge – to help it hold a charge – was a tiny step in the direction of breaking this shitty contract and getting the rude asshole it came with out of his life.

The sound of fingers rapidly typing broke him out of his thoughts. Yata glanced beside him, finding Fushimi bent over his laptop. “What’re you doing?”

The typing didn’t even slow. “Working.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Or, at least, tying up some loose ends, since I won’t be able to do much while I’m wasting time in this realm.”

Yata blinked at him. “Wait… you actually work? Like, a job?”

At that, Fushimi’s fingers stilled. “What do you imagine we do all the time between contracts?” He turned to meet Yata’s gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Lounge around on a divan being fed grapes by lesser demons? Don’t be stupid.”

“How the fuck would I know? Do I look like an expert on demons?” Yata scowled back at him, a little irritated by the attitude – but still curious enough to go on. “What kinda job is it?”

Fushimi regarded him silently for a brief but telling moment, as if assessing the question. “Our realm reflects this one,” he answered finally, “in more ways than you’d think. We have the same problems with those who don’t play by the rules – lesser or greater in power. The Captain represents order in the fourth sector, but he can’t enforce that by himself. That’s part of what I do.”

“Huh.” It made sense, even if it sounded... surprisingly normal. “So you're like cops or something?”

That earned him a soft, amused huff. “You could say that. We have more freedom than the police here. I'm sure you've noticed this, but the Captain doesn't have any objections to using underhanded methods to get results.”

The reminder had his frown deepening. “Yeah, I figured that out. Sneaky bastard...” Yata let out a sharp huff of breath, releasing his annoyance with the situation. “So you guys are like a special squad or something – that’s sorta cool.” As he turned the idea over in his head, something else occurred to him. “Oh yeah, Mikoto-san said you were high ranking, so does that mean you’ve got some kinda lackeys working under you?”

One corner of Fushimi’s mouth twitched, forming the beginnings of what looked like a reluctant smile. “Something like that.”

The expression had the odd effect of making Yata smile back, feeling a bit less alienated. “You gotta be the worst person to work for, huh? D’you call them idiots all the time, too?”

Fushimi raised another eyebrow. “Only when they act like it.”

“Yeah, right.” Yata huffed out a brief laugh. “Your standard for ‘not an idiot’ is too high; just ’cause someone doesn’t immediately figure shit out like you doesn’t make ’em stupid.” He met that arch look with a gradually widening smirk. “You gotta lighten up more.”

“Coming from the expert, huh?” Fushimi returned his gaze without flinching, the upward tilt of his lips matching the lazy way his eyelids drooped. “You have an ugly temper yourself; there’s a thing called moderation, you know.”

Yata felt his mouth twitch at the corner, but it was easy to fend back the impulse to scowl. Sure, the comment was sorta irritating, but the mood had shifted. It felt less charged somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain. “At least I don’t have a shitty ass attitude about everyone and everything.”

If this lasted, hopefully it meant a temporary truce. They had to get through this somehow, and it was gonna be hell if they kept sniping at each other.

“Some of us are realistic enough to recognize when things aren’t perfect,” Fushimi drawled back.

“Yeah? Well, who needs perfect?” Yata’s answering smile had teeth in it. “Anyway, what the hell does ‘perfect’ even mean?” Unbidden, an image of Munakata’s smugly knowing smile flashed across his mind, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft ‘ch’ in reaction. “Sounds like it’d be pretty annoying.”

Fushimi made another of those amused huffs. “For once, we agree. Not that it’s exactly what I meant.”

Yata snorted at that. “So? Just say what you mean, then. Not that hard.”

“I wonder about that,” Fushimi murmured, almost as if to himself. There was a slightly sardonic edge tipping up the corner of his smile.

“Whatever – suit yourself.” This wasn’t a conversation he felt like having anyway. Fushimi was intriguing – mysterious, kind of cool, more attractive than Yata felt like admitting – but trying to piece together what he meant half the time seemed like a headache and a half. Yata deliberately changed the subject instead of pushing it. “Anyway, what’s your realm even like? D’you live in houses and all? How ’bout shops and fun stuff?”

“Like I said, it’s a reflection of yours,” Fushimi answered him lazily, still meeting Yata’s gaze with lidded eyes. “Most of it’s going to be the same. Just without any kind of food products.” His smirk widened again. “That’s what we take contracts for, after all.”

There it was again – that immediate, uncomfortable sensation of white-hot attraction flaring to life in response to the mix of threat and interest in Fushimi’s gaze. He couldn’t deny that the combination was hitting pretty much all of his points.

Damnit. He really did like the allure of that mystery – that edge of danger, being unable to predict…

It was frustrating just the same – especially since he knew Fushimi could feel his uncontrolled reaction. Yata scowled back, jerking his eyes away from that tempting expression. “Fucking creepy bastard…”

Fushimi’s answering hum was a mix of amused and mocking, but he didn’t respond.

Not like Yata didn’t know exactly what he wasn’t saying. “I can tell that you’re lying, you know.” It didn’t even need to be voiced, and it still pissed him off. He let out his breath in a sharp rush, irritation seeping through in his brain. Fushimi was too damn good at pushing his buttons – in more ways than one.

Why the hell does he have to keep doing that? It’s fucking annoying.

He was still trying to settle that agitation when stone in his hand grew warm, and Yata felt his fingers twitch – a telltale warning. “Hey, so this is gonna be done pretty soon,” he pointed out, relieved to have a reason to steer back into neutral territory again. “For now, anyway – I mean, if we overcharge it, it’ll probably crack.”

“Of course it would.” The tone of that was sardonic. Fushimi waved a hand, the laptop disappearing from in front of him, and rose gracefully. “I’m assuming based on the information we have so far that coming back here and expecting to charge it again won’t work.”

Yata shut his eyes and raised his face to the sun for a moment, catching that strong energy. There was a particular feel to it – something that felt familiar. Something uniquely ‘Homra’, in a way. All the spots are gonna feel different, huh? It sorta made sense; you didn’t just cram a moonstone full of sunlight and hope it worked. There had to be a trick to it. “Yeah, probably.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That would be too good to be true, wouldn’t it?” He spread his wings, as if stretching in preparation for the next stage. “Well, I wouldn’t have wasted my time mapping that strategy out if I really thought it’d be that easy.”

Yeah, he seemed like the kind of guy who’d get pissy about wasted time. Yata pushed himself to his feet, being careful to keep the moonstone in direct sunlight while it finished its charge. “So now what?”

“Find more charging points, obviously.” Fushimi’s voice was low and flat. “We’ll probably have to search the same areas over again depending on whether it’s day or night, because the opposing charge won’t be noticeable.” He narrowed his eyes, frown deepening. “For now, let’s comb through a few to see if we can locate at least one more that’s sunlight – then we can go back there tomorrow or whenever the stone is ready again.”

“Oh.” It seemed simple when he put it like that. Yata scratched his head. “Right, yeah.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, unlike you, I’m not terribly good at ‘feeling’ moonlight.” The frown shifted almost to a scowl. “We’re probably going to have to spend more time at night making sure. What a pain…”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Yata cut in. When Fushimi turned to look at him, he shrugged. “I’m good with moonlight too. I’ll find the spots.”

The thin brows above Fushimi’s eyes furrowed. “How are you – ?” He stopped, eyes flickering briefly to the wings extending from Yata’s back. “Right. Of course you are.”

“Comes in handy sometimes.” Yata shot him a grin in response, feeling a bit smug about it. “Anyway, you got this strategy thing figured out – that’s your bit.” He straightened, making a fist with his free hand and pointing the thumb at his chest. “Leave the finding and the charging to me.”

Fushimi narrowed his eyes further, as if looking for holes in that assertion. “I’ll still have to be the one charging the sunstone,” he pointed out, after a brief pause.

“Yeah, I get it – moon aspect and all, right? Still, though.” Yata shrugged, fully confident. “I can help you out with the timing. That’s what I’m good at.”

There was another of those significant-seeming pauses, during which he could swear he saw wariness in the gaze that held his. Then Fushimi was clicking his tongue again, expression souring. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he muttered. “I don’t have that kind of so-called skill.”

“Heh.” Yata let his grin widen into a smirk. “So what you’re saying is I can do something you can’t, right?”

If anything, Fushimi’s expression grew even sourer at that. “I’m not sure why that makes you so proud of yourself.”

“What? Don’t like admitting you’re not the best at everything?” Yata let his grin show teeth. He was about to push further, but the stone in his hand suddenly grew hot, nearly burning. “Huh, seems like this one is done, anyway.” He closed his fingers around it, feeling the surface start to cool marginally as it pulled back from the breaking point. “That’s it for the first charge, I guess!”

“Only eleven more to go,” Fushimi remarked sardonically, clicking his tongue yet again. “At least it seems like a simple task once we actually find the charging points.” He unfolded his wings. “That spell you cast on us should last at least until dusk, right? Let’s go south first and work our way up and around.”

“Hey, don’t act like you’re in charge here.” Yata shot him a bit of a frown, tucking the moonstone into his pocket again. “At least ask me or something, c’mon!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Fushimi let out an impatient sigh; when he spoke again, his tone was flat. “Fine. What do you think about going south first and working our way up and around?”

Yata squashed the tiny bit of annoyance that came with the tone, repeating a mantra of ‘not worth it’ in his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He spread his own wings. “Fine – let’s go.”

[entergamingxp]

Valorant review – exacting, infuriating, sublime • Eurogamer.net

At its best, there are few games that can get close to Valorant. This is a game made with impeccable clarity of focus and purpose, a dream team assembled from every competitive player’s wishlist of ideas. It feels, more often than not, quite wonderful to play, smooth and severe and millisecond precise. It can also feel like a nightmare, trapping you in mazy, winding corridors of pristine white and silent beige, the silence only punctuated by other players’ rage or deafening bursts of gunfire. The result is a game that leaves you oscillating wildly between love and hate, depending on the outcome of a round, the result of a match or just the makeup of your team, and that’s also how it gets you – or at least how it gets me. Play enough and you’ll push through the barrier of marvelling at purposeful design, or shaking your fist at its blandness, to find a kind of lovable monster, a white whale, designed not just to feel good and accurate and fair, but to be something you’ll be desperate to chase, and obsessed with trying to conquer and tame.

Valorant review

Developer: Riot Games

Publisher: Riot Games

Platform: Reviewed on PC

Availability: Out now on PC

We’re well after release now, which means Valorant is a known entity to most people, but here are the basics: it’s Counter Strike with abilities. Two teams of five face off in rounds, with the first to 13 winning the match. There are four maps, one team attacks, the other defends, you swap after 12 rounds – half-way, if it’s evenly split – and the goal is to either plant a bomb (“spike”) and protect it until it explodes, or stop the other team from planting it and defuse it if they do. Or, you could just kill everyone on the opposite team. At the beginning of each round you buy your weapons, shields and abilities with currency earned from your previous round’s feats. Adding different characters (there are 11 at launch) each with four abilities (three plus an ultimate, naturally) makes the whole thing a simple, brilliant, and cohesive concept – which is almost inevitable, because its ideas, while they are fantastic, are also overtly borrowed from elsewhere, and so the question becomes almost entirely one of execution.

To see this content please enable targeting cookies. Manage cookie settings

Valorant knows this, clearly, because execution is its brand, and one it wears with pride. If you’ve even glanced in the game’s direction you’ll have overheard its boasts of unprecedented server tick rates, unparalleled performance on decade-old laptops, magical lag reduction and lowered pings worldwide. There are so many small things this game does right that in a way I don’t know where to start. One – a personal favourite – is its art style, which is something that happens to be emblematic of so much of what the game itself is about, too. Valorant’s art is function, function, function. It’s ordered hierarchically, for instance, in terms of what visual information you need to process first: your equipped weapon or ability is the clearest and brightest, sparkling clean in the foreground. Then its other characters, with “distinct shapes, colour palettes, colour zones” as director Joe Ziegler put it to us recently, designed to stand out both from the background and one another with as much immediacy as possible, but not as much as your weapon. Behind them lies the immediate environment, which is purposefully sparse and, by virtue of that, irrefutably bland. Anywhere that an in-game character can stand is clear, muted, and uncomplex – un-busy – so your eye can skip straight to the movement, straight to the prey. Above that imaginary play-space line: freedom, for more fun, more world-building, more story hints and teases of lore – if you ever find yourself looking that way.

There are two results: gameplay, however you define it, is visual perfection. I know when shots land, where bullets hit, where people are, what everyone’s doing, and the synthetic, watercolour brush-stroke approach means it’s all still oddly pleasing to look at, at a sort of desktop background surface level. The other is the game is oddly stifling – suffocating, in fact – the maps feeling small and walled-in, regardless of where they’re pretending to be in Valorant’s world, giving the feel of skipping about the playgrounds of a dead civilization, acting out life under Stephen King’s dome. The little flourishes, above the line of blandness, become the little shrubs that grow through brutalist concrete, more beautiful because they’re sad.

Sometimes teammates make the game a wonderful experience. Other times, they just want to play with the closeable doors.

That’s added to by Valorant’s sound design – which is very similar to its visual design, by which I mean it is brilliant and haunting all in one. Valorant is a stealth game, in my opinion, at least as much as it’s anything else. Rounds are silent. Really silent, which implies every audible peep must be there for a reason. Footsteps are the obvious one, with ‘Shifting’ – walking slowly by holding down Shift, muting your footsteps completely – a simple but essential and hard-to-master skill, borrowed again from Counter Strike. But there are also specific callouts from characters, some map-wide, some local, and the sounds of abilities, teleporters, different surfaces when run across, landed on and shot. Pick a sound and you can pour over it for designer’s intent: Cypher’s Trapwhire – a near-invisible tripwire, basically – can be heard just before it’s visible, giving you a split second to stop before triggering it but not quite long enough if you’re running. My personal favourite, being a main with another vision-focused character in Sova, is how his scouting drone can travel through a teleporter without triggering the teleporter’s map-wide sound. So I can clear the area at one side of the map on Bind, safely guide my drone through the teleporter to the other side, and spot a good half of the enemy team by surprise.

Then, just like the art style, there’s the ways in which this leaks out into affecting the game as a whole. Gunshots rival PUBG for jump-scare volume, while lobby music is subdued, underplayed, tiptoe quiet, even after some settings-tinkering with the mix. You sneak your way through this game, creeping around corners, up corridors, through the rounds. Even as you lobby up and, if you’re like me, do your best to dodge the perils of voice chat. You’ll get a long way with gun skills, further still with proper mechanical mastery of everything, but you won’t really master this game, at any level, without mastery of stealth.

I’ve talked, at length, about this game’s toxicity before, which disproportionately affects people of marginalised backgrounds. It’s no better after launch, despite some good new measures like this, and Riot being caught on the back foot, despite decades of warnings and lessons delivered through inspirational games like CS:GO and Overwatch, as well as their own in League of Legends, remains indefensible.

Pair the sights and sounds together, meanwhile, and the result is a kind of hyper-thin layer of impression, stretched over all the tactical and mechanical engineering that’s going on underneath. Valorant often reminds me of the old-school, classic match engine for Football Manager, just a top-down rectangle with 22 dots nudging a smaller, 23rd one back and forth. A beautiful, nuanced game boiled down and distilled to its purest essence. There’s a kind of closeness – immediacy, or maybe intimacy – between you and Valorant as a game, mirrored in the responsiveness of its tick rates and frame rates and pings, entrancing you in direct experience like some inverse of The Matrix: the game shows you colours and sounds and all you see is running screens of numbers, call-outs, crosshairs on heads.

The tactics of this game are where it really sings. I’ve barely scratched the surface, because I am terrible and also abnormally uncreative, but the few miniscule things I’ve tried to cook up myself (the drone-through-teleporter thing was genuinely my idea, but I’m also absolutely certain someone else did it first, and probably a while ago) are more than satisfying enough as it is, even without the exotic plays of professionals you can find on Twitch. Valorant has an exceptional range of practise tools – of course it does – including timed shooting ranges and the ability to freely roam around maps with zero-cooldown skills, sandbox-style. This means freedom to test and experiment to your heart’s content, and already there are specific plays people are learning and repeating from their favourite pros. Sticking to Sova, because I know him, I’ve researched exact, inch-perfect locations to stand with exact pixel-perfect reference points to aim at for firing ambitious recon arrows into certain locations. Stand there, aim at that, use this much charge, success.

One of many precise line-ups for landing the perfect Sova arrow.

This is where Riot properly shines, because then we get that bit of intra-teammate magic where the perfectly targeted scouting arrow combines with an ultimate like Phoenix’s, where he can send a doppelganger through a teleporter to the far corner you’ve just unveiled, wreak some havoc and return, at no risk to himself. In Valorant, the football match purity you get from Counter Strike’s flat format of ten, identical gunslingers facing off is gone, its equality replaced with equity in ten different, complementary (or clashing) agents. And so yes, it’s a game about scouting, breaching, containing at its most fundamental – maybe with some economy management and communication thrown in, sure – but the ways in which you can perform the same few basic actions of a tactical shooter have ballooned outwards, the shackles blown off. This is Riot’s thing: taking a game that’s beautiful through its simplicity and throwing the simplicity out the window – while somehow keeping the beauty. It’s a philosophy that almost always fails, flying in the face of the received wisdom that simple concepts always win, but the studio has a knack for making it work.

A limitation, which is probably a necessary one, is that Valorant’s characters are less distinct than you might originally hope. The eleven available at launch have some significant overlap – I count five different agents with an ability that fires a large orb or cylinder of smoke to obscure vision on a location, for instance, and three with arena-slicing walls of fire, toxins, ice – but this, inevitably, comes back to that slavish dedication to competition. Ziegler, again, has talked about this. It’s about covering “the basics of the functions of the known tactical space in creative and interesting ways… vision blocking, breaching, flushing and distracting” because, say it again with me, competitive integrity comes first. There’s promise of more varied agents, with abilities that affect different parts of tactical play, to come in the future – although of course for now that’s just a promise.

That’s also just Valorant. Playing it, I’m starting to realise, is far from the joyous, vibrant experience you’ll find with competitive shooters elsewhere. Joy and colour is explicitly sacrificed – in fact it’s often dour, especially with a silent or vicious team on your side. Its world is quiet and eerie, and its language, through weapon skins and end-of-round finishers and maybe a little yippee from your agent when landing a headshot, is an unnervingly celebratory one in its obsession with death. But that’s the thrill. It’s the exhilaration of the hunt, for kills yes but more so for progress, for skill and mastery and cold efficiency. By design Valorant is a severe, soulless and uncompromising experience. That’s often to its detriment, but it’s more often to its success.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/06/valorant-review-exacting-infuriating-sublime-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=valorant-review-exacting-infuriating-sublime-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[ciathyzareposts]

Missed Classic 73: Curse of Crowley Manor (1981) – Introduction

by Will Moczarski

Introduction: Who was Jyym Pearson?

The sixth adventure game in our Med Systems marathon is the last one released in 1981, and it’s a rather famous one. The Institute is also the first game I’ve played before (albeit in the later port for the Commodore 64), and it picks up on the ‘mental illness’ theme we’ve already encountered in Deathmaze 5000, Labyrinth and, especially, Asylum. Jyym Pearson was the third freelance programmer to be published by Med Systems following Arti Haroutunian (Microworld) and Simon Smith (Knossos). Med Systems founder William Denman appears to have put some thought into his company’s portfolio, as Microworld is a nice companion piece to his own The Human Adventure, while Smith’s Knossos picks up on the theme established in Labyrinth, in which the player has to vanquish a mythical minotaur. The Institute is sort of a companion piece to Asylum, so much so that the former seems like a text-only version of the latter at first sight. However, Jyym Pearson was already an established author of text adventures when Med Systems first published one of his games, and he continued to make a name for himself through this fruitful collaboration. As this is as good a place as any to go back and play the four text adventure games that Pearson wrote before teaming up with Med Systems in 1981, I will hereby start a short sub-marathon of the four games that came before The Institute.

It has to be noted that Jyym often didn’t work alone. His wife Robyn Pearson contributed to many of his adventure games and also received some credit for it. Like Alexa Adams, she is not as famous as her male counterpart which likely says a lot about the rules of early video game publicity, maybe even about our society in general. As it’s very difficult to research who did what exactly, I will try to be as accurate as possible in this regard but please bear in mind that I might underestimate the extent of Robyn’s work every once in a while which is, needless to say, completely unintentional.

Apart from his illustrious body of work, Jyym Pearson is a rather elusive personality. He wrote the odd editorial piece for early 1980’s computer magazines but it is rather difficult to find out more about his biography. Sadly, he succumbed to cancer in 1994 so it won’t be possible to conduct an interview with him, and moreover, Robyn Pearson appears to be such an widespread name that it proved impossible to find out what Jyym’s widow might be up to these days. All that I can gather is that Jyym apparently was an avid computer collector and a loving family father, but other than that we’ll have to let him speak through his works.

Jyym Pearson first entered the scene in 1980 with a text-based space simulation game called Zossed in Space which had a small but loyal fanbase. In 1981, he wrote his first text adventure (The) Curse of Crowley Manor which was highly innovative being an early detective game steeped in occultist lore. It was released as one of Adventure International’s OtherVentures – a gig that Jyym was subsequently subscribed to, it seems. His next game, Escape from Traam, was also released – as OtherVenture #3 – in 1981, and Earthquake San Francisco 1906 followed the same year, labelled as #4. The Pearsons’ final game for Adventure Internationale, Saigon: The Final Days, was also released in 1981 and became famous for immersing the player in a relatively contemporary story: the retreat of the Americans from Vietnam in 1975. The Pearsons’ other four adventure games were published by Med Systems over the following years, starting with The Institute in 1981. They appear to have been very creative and prolific writers, never adhering to the most conventional adventure game tropes but always eager to stretch the limits of the still-juvenile form.

As an homage to these highly interesting writer personalities, I shall blog through the four 1981 Pearson games before continuing the actual Med Systems marathon with The Institute. I had considered doing all of the OtherVentures in the process but the first one is just a port of the Crowther & Woods Adventure called Classic Adventure, and Lance Micklus’s 1979 classic Dog Star Adventure was only labelled as an OtherVenture in a later re-release. I hope that you will enjoy this little detour but I’m very optimistic that the good reputation of these games is highly justified and that the Pearsons’s work should have a place on this blog dedicated to adventure game history.

Introduction #2: Curse of Crowley Manor

I start the game inside my office. Apart from a small part of the manor (is it supposed to be a turret?) the screen is divided into a VISIBLE ITEMS section, a room description, the abbreviated name of the game (“CROWLEY MANOR”) and the expectant cursor. Typing LOOK will give me the actual room description, so this is where I start. There are a calendar and a nametag on the desk as well as a door leading east. Looking at the calendar tells me that it’s April 2, 1913. Outside the window I can see London at night. A quick look at the nameplate tells me my name and occupation: I am Inspector Black and I am located at Scotland Yard. Neat! Unfortunately, I can’t open the door, so I try some other (ineffective) things until my phone suddenly rings. Answering it, I am told by Officer Strade (Lestrade dropped his french article due to copyright reasons, I assume?) that there has been a murder at the Crowley Estate and I should be heading over there immediately. Now I can finally open the office door and leave the building.

Outside there’s a brick street. Looking at it reveals a cab, and the driver is smiling at me. I enter the cab and look again, to no avail. Talking to the driver, he asks me “Where to governor?”, and I can enter “Crowley Manor”. Off we go, passing by Trafalgar Square and Big Ben on our way. A little bit of text adventure sightseeing for the sole purpose of adding to the atmosphere. Looking at the driver lets me discover a vial sitting next to him, and because it’s not nailed down, I put it in my pocket. It turns out to be holy water, so maybe I will be dealing with some serious vampirism soon. One of the rules of the game seems to be that looking at everything is very important!

When we arrive, I can get out of the cab, prompting the driver to take 10 shillings from me. What do I have in my inventory, anyway? A quick survey turns up a revolver and an I.D. card as well as 40 more shillings. Police Inspector Harbour is already waiting for me on the porch. He informs me that the body is in the kitchen and Inspector Strade is waiting inside. Going north lets me enter the manor. I grab my pencil and paper and start to make a map right away.

Most of the exits are hidden, and even typing LOOK won’t reveal them. However, there are only the four cardinal directions (N,S,E,W), hence the topology is rather simple. The first room is a plush entry hall with opulent furnishings. Taking a look reveals a cabinet but it’s locked. Heading west, I find a parlor with a rosewood chest which is fastened with two screws. I need a key and a screwdriver to progress, apparently. South of the parlor, there’s an elegant music room with a victrola and a piano. I can’t interact with the piano but looking at the victrola turns its crank into a visible item, and looking at the crank reveals a gold key. After removing the key, I can turn on the victrola but Maniac Mansion is still six years away so I have to imagine the “music”. The gold key lets me open the cabinet in the plush entry hall. Inspector Strade’s mutilated body drops out and onto the floor. Wow, this is going to be as grisly as Mystery House, I suppose. And Crowley is meant to be Alistair Crowley, perhaps?

Going west and north, I find a dimly lit room with a small figure huddled on the floor. I can’t examine it as it’s too dark but talking to it reveals that it’s Davonn, the original victim’s servant. He claims that “no man murdered [his] master”, and that is in keeping with my theory about a gold-key-hiding monster. I don’t get anything more out of him, and he seems to be in mourning. East of Davonn, there is a study. Opening the desk reveals a crystal ball I can take. There is also a silver book on the desk, and reading it provides some backstory: This is the 1742 diary of one Adam Crowley, and it says: “I AM DOOMED TODAY..THE DEMON IS TRAPPED IN THE HOUSE HE WILL SURVIVE LONG AFTER MY DEATH”, and, “THE DEMON HAS CORRUPTED MY BLOOD..HE WILL INFEST THE GENERATIONS THAT FOLLOW ME..” A blood-infesting demon, huh? This is getting creepy quick. Good thing I “borrowed” that holy water from the cabbie.

Heading back west reveals that Davonn’s throat has been ripped out while I was busy reading old books. Why am I still alive again? Oh right, I’m the protagonist. Tough luck, I guess. East of the entry hall, there’s a long N/S hall separated into three rooms (south, center, north). At the south end, there’s a small white statue of an elephant I can pick up. Inventory limit, here I come – I can only carry six items which seems a bit harsh. I decide to turn this room into my stash house until somebody (a demon maybe?) steals from me and I need to relocate. In the center part, I seem to encounter the demon for the first time. “A TREMENDOUS FORCE THRUSTS YOU AGAINST A WALL.. THERE IS A HIDEOUS SMELL.” This is confirmed when I type “SMELL”, as the response is a daft “PHEWWWW…!” The force is content with thrusting me against a wall, however, and I can’t interact with it in any other way. It doesn’t block my way, either, so I continue north.

How unpleasant!

This brings me to the kitchen where there is blood splattered on the walls and floor – the site of the original murder. I examine everything and find a door nailed shut to the north as well as a brown slimey growth on the floor. It’s not nailed down, so I pick it up and carry it around with me. A good idea, you say? Wait till you read this! Two rooms on, there’s a well stocked food pantry. Upon looking at the shelves here, the brown growth slips from my pockets and starts eating like crazy. It grows and grows with every turn until it’s big enough to eat me for dessert. My first game over. On my next attempt I leave the room after having dropped the growth in the pantry. That seems to save me temporarily but upon returning there, it still devours me.

I decide not to pick up the beast the next time around. There are only two more rooms beyond the pantry: a very short E/W hall and a small storage room with a plywood wall (which is vibrating) to the north and another door nailed shut to the south. What do they keep in there? Do I really want to know? As I am a little stuck and will have to tackle the brown growth puzzle next (I assume) this seems like a good place to stop for now. It will certainly leave you with enough of an impression to guess the final score for this game. Next time: the exorcism of the demon that used to be Adam Crowley by the coward Inspector Black – or something.

Session time: 0.5 hrs Total time: 0.5 hrs

Med Systems Marathon Overview: (a) 1980 Summary (b) Reality Ends (1980) (c) Rat’s Revenge / Deathmaze 5000 (1980) (d) Labyrinth (1980) (e) Asylum (1981) (f) Microworld (1981)

Note Regarding Spoilers and Companion Assist Points: There’s a set of rules regarding spoilers and companion assist points. Please read it here before making any comments that could be considered a spoiler in any way. The short of it is that no CAPs will be given for hints or spoilers given in advance of me requiring one. As this is an introduction post, it’s an opportunity for readers to bet 10 CAPs (only if they already have them) that I won’t be able to solve a puzzle without putting in an official Request for Assistance: remember to use ROT13 for betting. If you get it right, you will be rewarded with 20 CAPs in return. It’s also your chance to predict what the final rating will be for the game. Voters can predict whatever score they want, regardless of whether someone else has already chosen it. All correct (or nearest) votes will go into a draw.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-73-curse-of-crowley-manor-1981-introduction/

[joycemarkussen83-blog]

pubg tips and tricks

- Players can now check out RP rankings of your entire region and your pals straight from the Royale Move webpage. Jedi Battlefield: Winner Winner Chicken Dinner is great shooter FPS pocket version in PUBG fashion! Within this FPS pocket edition You can utilize multiply block guns (from axes to sniper) and on great maps! Pick your weapon and begin causing havoc and destruction in this battle thorn atmosphere of Pixel Fury! Operate and shoot to the maps! Discover the world of MINECRAFT pixels and endure in it. If you prefer armed forces blocky pixel video games and battle royale video games You then will definitely like Grand Battle Royale! Turn out to be the last word warrior hero. Strike rapidly, kill #10 Best PUBG Mobile Tips And Tricks In this particular overcome problem and conquer fort ! Prepare for that fort night time battle in among the royal battle ground. This game features gameplay from PUBG mobile and Fortnite battle royale! read more and BATTLE the battlegrounds, improve your shooting techniques, and acquire new battleground ways totally free! Endure at any Price simply because you’re going to establish the actual royale battle survivor of the planet war. Controls: WASD = move ; SPACEBAR = leap ; TAB = inventory ; MOUSE = shoot / watch File = pickpup things / open up doors File = parachute jump Jump out in the survival plane within the dead island, locate the finest loot, eliminate the enemies. Players are distribute throughout the island unarmed and have to come across and use a variety of weapons and merchandise to get rid of opponents. Discover the very best weapons you can: Assault Rifle, pixel gun, smg, shotguns and other weapons. Dominate the battlefield by taking on Every single opponent and become last survivor #1! Grab your pixel gun and get taking pictures! Begin the battle for the title of the best shooting grasp ever! Battlegrounds is taken into account the defining recreation in the battle royale activity genre on account of its level of popularity, even though other games, which includes Greene's preceding mods, were by now on the market.[123] After its large early accessibility income quantities, other video games adopted with battle royale mechanics, with both present video games that extra a battle royale mode or entirely new games. Notably, Epic Game titles up-to-date their in-enhancement title Fortnite, a sandbox-primarily based survival activity that included a chance to construct fortifications, to incorporate a battle royale manner that retained the fortification factors. Generally known as Fortnite Battle Royale, Epic later launched it for a standalone absolutely free-to-Engage in video game in September 2017. With the announcement in the Xbox launch, PUBG Company said that there have been designs to port to supplemental platforms, such as the PlayStation 4.[eighty two][83][eighty four] Within an interview Soon after Gamescom, Greene said that their handle Microsoft did not exclude a PlayStation 4 port, but that their emphasis at enough time was only over the Windows and Xbox A single Variation, given the compact dimension in their workforce.[66][fifty two] When requested over it in January 2018, Kim said which the workforce produced the game very first over the Steam and Xbox Recreation Preview early entry courses since they both equally conveniently authorized in-progress game titles to generally be introduced and updated after a while, which contrasted with Sony's insufficient their unique early obtain system, and their strict high-quality control for even concluded game titles. Facebook is showing details to help you greater fully grasp the objective of a Web page. See actions taken via the individuals that handle and put up material. Players enter A final-guy-standing battle where by they try to Identify weapons, motor vehicles, and materials in a graphically and tactically wealthy battleground that finally forces players into a shrinking Perform zone because they interact in the tense and impressive combat to the Demise. [121] Jeff Grubb of Enterprise Beat considered Battlegrounds for a paradigm change in the 1st-human being shooter industry similar to how Connect with of Duty four: Contemporary Warfare also modified the landscape of shooters when it was released in 2007, and thought it did this by staying an anti-Contact of Duty with regard to pacing and strategy.[122] Individually, the Seoul-based mostly studio Ginno Game titles, led by Chang-han Kim and who created massively multiplayer on-line video games (MMOs) for private desktops, was acquired and renamed Bluehole Ginno Games by Bluehole in January 2015, A serious South Korean publisher of MMOs and mobile game titles.[sixteen][seventeen] Kim recognized that producing a successful video game in South Korea normally intended It might be posted globally, and wished to use his crew to build a successful title for private pcs that followed the exact same product as other mobile video games published by Bluehole. He had currently been enthusiastic about producing a kind of battle royale match right after he experienced played DayZ, in part that the structure experienced not caught on in Korea. Votre appareil doit répondre à ces conditions pour une expérience optimale Système d'exploitation Beginning with absolutely nothing, players must struggle to Track down weapons and supplies inside of a battle to become the lone survivor. Features Player Unknown's Battle Grounds: • Pixel Graphics & Blocky Figures: Battle as hilarious blocky figures and exhibit your variety of gameplay • Endure gun video games against other players! • Battle in royale battle arena: Intensive bots (similar to PVP mode) gameplay versus players around the world! • Guns will randomly show up, so research the ground carefully! Survive by collecting extra guns so you've a benefit around other players • Just like in true 3D block survival games, you should buy any pixel block strike skins • Get a pixel gun and dive into battle: Enjoyment pixel graphics perfect for intense taking pictures battles! • Massive radiation island This is actually the place wherever You will need to endure while you actively playing while in the blocky town • Game is completely free on the internet video game for download PUBG: Winner Winner Chicken Evening meal is really a battle royale recreation by which as much as a hundred bots players compete versus one another in a last guy standing deathmatch. All Players can select what number of bots is going to be be in the arena, Your objective is to survive and shoot all pixel enemies. Start off exploring this unknown minecraft block Tale, discover the greatest tools, defeat your enemies. Concentrate to enemies, Shoot with AK, pixel gun, smg, various-barrel along with other weapons. Be The last and supreme survivor: rule the block metropolis wars! Ingame Bots / enemies have incredibly clever AI much like PvP mode. Obtain Jedi Battlefield: Winner Winner Rooster Meal now! Display More You’ll choose to dive into Weapon Mastery in this article to find out every one of the methods you can earn medals, charms and, not surprisingly, bragging legal rights. The game, while in early access, has already obtained alternate gameplay modes made by players, based on unenforceable principles that players agree to abide by, which were well-known with streamers. This was aided by a quiet launch of custom server support to many influential streamers which subsequently built it into public release.[23] In one situation, "Zombie Method", all but 4 players pretend to get zombies, who might in some cases distinguish themselves by taking away all apparel and therefore are constrained only to amassing melee weapons and consumable merchandise, and need to rush to assault the opposite four players, who can obtain all equipment and attempt to outrun and defeat the zombies. Battlegrounds represents the standalone Variation of what Greene believes would be the "last Edition" in the battle royale principle, incorporating the elements he had built in prior iterations.[six][29] More quickly progress was possible with the sport motor Unreal Engine 4, as opposed with ARMA and H1Z1, which ended up constructed with proprietary match engines. Among loot from these crates are Unique outfits influenced from the Battle Royale Film.[37] Greene anticipates incorporating a marketing campaign mode with co-operative player support, however there would be "no major lore" crafted for the narrative, comparing this to related modes in Watch Canines.[38] Nowadays, Now we have some info for yourself all-around impending fixes for your several crucial challenges within the console Edition of our sport. I then went on to high school where my instructors continually defeat me with metal pipes and 2x4s and locked me in The varsity's basement for 48hrs+ and advised my mom that I was gay Which I ran from faculty due to a bully and the police located me bloody in the basement of The varsity. I pressed kidnapping rates against my math teacher and he attempted to murder me in the court session. Yeet

Helping The others Realize The Advantages Of player unknown battle ground

You have already been preferred as on the list of lucky winners with the long-lasting anniversary parachute, get this code (LIVZBRZUBR) to redeem over the Formal Web site. pubgmobile.com/act/a20180515p… Register to check out reasons why you might or might not similar to this determined by your game titles, friends, and curators you stick to. Register or Open in Steam However, if you feel there is another thing you can do to raised it, you are able to equally as very easily update the keymapping as per your individual preferences. Important : il est nécessaire d'installer ce jeu depuis l'application Uptodown officielle. Le fichier contient des données OBB additionnelles, donc elle n'est pas suitable avec les deals d'installation traditionnel. PUBG MOBILE est la Variation internationale de PLAYERUNKNOWN'S BATTLEGROUNDS. Sauf que cette fois, elle est associée à ton compte Google, donc tu n'as pas besoin de créer un WeChat ou un compte QQ. Dans le jeu, tu participes à une bataille royale avec plus de one hundred vrais joueurs où un seul s'en sortira vivant. Si tu veux y arriver, tu devras bouger dans l'île en ramassant les meilleurs équipements et armes que tu peux trouver. Et tu devrais être rapide parce que ta zone de jeu se réduit en taille chaque minutes. Presque tous les éléments de cette Variation Computer system de PUBG sont présents. An incredible component about this video game is how each individual decision you make will have an effect on your own overall performance. One example is, you'll be able to plan to leave the plane early or late determined by no matter if you need to distance yourself from other players from the off-established or land on a region of your map with a good vantage stage. Leaping in proper of the middle on the map will drop you ideal into the thick of items. Toutes nos catégories Sélectionnez la part dans laquelle vous souhaitez faire votre recherche. #10 Best PUBG Mobile Tips And Tricks of the most expected mobile online games of all time is ready for you are taking on today. Perform PubG Mobile to battle it out for your personal survival from 99 other fatal players. Separately, the Seoul-dependent studio Ginno Video games, led by Chang-han Kim and who made massively multiplayer on line video games (MMOs) for private computers, was acquired and renamed Bluehole Ginno Game titles by Bluehole in January 2015, A significant South Korean publisher of MMOs and mobile video games.[sixteen][seventeen] Kim identified that producing A prosperous sport in South Korea generally intended It could be revealed globally, and wanted to use his staff to make A prosperous title for private pcs that followed a similar design as other mobile online games released by Bluehole. He had currently been excited about producing a form of battle royale game following he experienced played DayZ, in part that the structure had not caught on in Korea. Various journalists commented on the sport's immediate development toward a sizable player foundation for the recreation that was however in early access. Greene experienced assurance that the game could arrive at above one million players within a thirty day period, but several of his progress team were only anticipating about 200,000 to 300,000 within the very first yr, and ended up stunned by its functionality in its to start with thirty day period.[117] Greene himself believed that the potent expansion was buoyed by non-standard marketing channels like Twitch streamers and various information creators, which they may have considering the fact that labored to introduce new gameplay things in advance of general public launch.[sixty six] IGN's Rad believed that the recognition of the sport was on account of its speedy-paced mother nature as compared to related style game titles offered at some time, which include H1Z1 and DayZ. [66] Microsoft deemed Battlegrounds to be an important venture to reveal their company's power to be far more than simply a publisher, In line with Microsoft's Nico Bihary who direct the job. Bihary claimed they have got specified Battlegrounds a "white glove" treatment method, and to the Xbox A single port have offered solutions from their Superior technological know-how team and time and aid from your Coalition, A different of Microsoft Studios' subsidiaries.[67] Kim also said that the team was considering cross-System play between the Home windows and console versions, but didn't anticipate this as a release function, as they have to determine how you can mitigate the edge keyboard and mouse-making use of players would have in excess of All those working with controllers.[forty four] From the console version it can be wiser to maneuver about that has a contact of stealth but mobile game titles aren’t intended to make you believe much too tough as a result the most effective strategy in PUBG for Computer is to only blast throughout the map taking pictures at everything that moves faster than a tortoise. Exactly the same 12 months, a no cost-to-Participate in mobile Variation for Android and iOS was unveiled, Besides a port for the PlayStation 4. Battlegrounds is one of the better-marketing and many-performed online video online games of all time, offering above fifty million copies around the world by June 2018, with above four hundred million players in complete when including the mobile Edition. For the completion of each round, players get in-recreation currency based on their own overall performance. The currency is utilised to acquire crates which comprise cosmetic goods for character or weapon customization. These things are procedurally dispersed all through the map At first of a match, with certain higher-possibility zones usually having greater tools.[1] Killed players is usually looted to accumulate their gear too.[one] Players can choose to play both from the first-particular person or third-particular person standpoint, Each individual obtaining their unique advantages and drawbacks in overcome and situational recognition; however server-precise options can be employed to force all players into a person point of view to reduce some positive aspects.[three] Amid loot from these crates are Specific outfits influenced by the Battle Royale movie.[37] Greene anticipates adding a campaign mode with co-operative player guidance, although there could be "no significant lore" crafted to the narrative, evaluating this to identical modes in Watch Puppies.[38]

[nebula-the-wyvern]

The Monster Of Mor'vec. (Part 1)

This is just a little something I've been working on for a few weeks now and I wanted to share it. It's not finished yet but I already know how it's gonna end so there's that. I have also written more then this but I though that this would be a good sized oneshot muti-part story. If ya get what I mean. Well I hope ya enjoy it I had a lot of fun writing it. ------------------------------------------------------------------ It is said that in the sea fog a creature lurks in the depths, unseen, unheard yet its presence still known. Many had tried to catch, slay and document the aquatic beast but no one has ever gotten more then a few meters near it in its watery domain. If it does not wish to be be seen it will not be. If it does not caught it won't be. However woe be tide anyone who wishes to slay it, weather using gun, harpoon or knife. For then they leave and if they do return from the rage of the sea dweller they are broken. Minds bent and misshapen, a championed hunter reduced to a mumbling reck. A person barely able to comprise words or even process others who speak to them. Though however these men were driven to insanity one fact was always the same, the boats with tattered sails and damaged sides somehow always managed to moor at the dock of Mor'vec. Even if the expedition had started 30 miles away they would always end up at that same dock just as the sun was about to rise. The question always lingers in the mind of the villagers, how did a man who could barley stand moor a boat in the dead of night with no map, compass or even a good sail to catch the wind. How did these hunters end up at the Dock of Mor'vec? For over half a century all hunts for the beast were forbidden, even poachers stayed far away from that dock side, not wishing to be sent to the nut house. Anyone with a sensible head on their shoulders dared not to even speak of the beast, never mind try to go out and find it. A young teen boy of the village was not one of those people. He was no rock brained lad but a rather intelligent one, a youth bored of the lack lustre life his village provided him. Most boys like him became scholars or even politicians but this teen had a bigger ambitions. He wished to explore the world outside his village, his county, even beyond his country! His wished to be the greatest explorer in the lands, to be known around the world, have books written in his greatest. This could of been a noble dream, a truly great explorer who wished to see he land around his documented for others to see and enjoy. However his was not his intention at all, all he wished was for the fame, glory and the money that came with it. He wanted out of his simple village life, a lifestyle he considered below him despite his own family living in that village for five generations. The beast that had driven many to insanity was still common knowledge amongst the residents, despite the subject being taboo. The boy wished to slay the beast when he came of age but kept his desires a secret from everyone, doing research in the ancient library near his school. He had read everything from old recounted features of the creature, some being contradictions of each other, old sketches and the first recorded mentions of it over two thousand years ago. He had scoured the many shelves of books and files at his disposal, he had found no new information on the creature for almost a week. This did not make him very happy, since he still hadn't found away to track the creature down without going into the sea fog that even he would surely get lost in. With a few minutes of pondering his situation over a idea struck him, something he had never considered mostly due to the true stupidity of it. He was desperate now, so he was willing to try anything to slay the creature that would propel him to into his perfect future of luxury and fame. So then he wondered his way down towards the back of the old library to wards the fantasy section, more specifically towards to local legends shelves. He now had a new plan in motion, why hunt for the beast when the beast could come to him? He skimmed through word after word, page after page and book after book, the hours passing by as if time no longer had meaning. Finally the boy found it. A old books cover damaged and dusty from age, a beautiful but faded golden title on the front, it read "Marvellous Melmorian Fantasy Creatures: Volume IV (Lore Edition)". On the other hand, in the book it's self the pages looked as if they were printed yesterday. No damage, tears or folds on the corners nor words slightly smudged and warped from being handled. The would be explorer barely even noticed the mysteriously well preserved nature of this book, instead choosing to focus on the words within it. Like the other books previously read stacked beside him, he skimmed through old references to Giants, fire wolves and crazed creatures alike. When he reached near the end of the old text he finally saw the subject he was looking for, sea creatures. He found a whole four full pages of details, lore and mythology none of which his previous findings even looked into to. One legend of the creature seemed to catch his interest, it was said the old dock of Mor'vec was built upon a shrine destroyed by a mighty storm and lost to time. Though some old manuscripts where recovered from the wreckage, these documented rituals and offerings of large barrels of fish left there for safe passage across the dangerous rocky cliff base near the settlement at the time. However one page documented a offering of a very large but rare fish referenced as the Whaling Bassic, in exchange for a glimpse into times afar. This one small detail made the young scholar pause, closing the book and thinking for a few moments. He let a small hum leave him as he reevaluated his options once again. The sea beast could be made to come to him where he could see what his glorious future has install for him and then slay the it in the shallow waters of the dock side. His day was getting better and better, soon he would be able to complete his destiny and finally be away from his small town. In that same moments of realisation a problem struck him across the face like a avalanche of rocks and snow. What on earth was a Whaling Bassic? His studies never mentioned such a fish and his father, who was a fisherman for a living, had never mentioned wishing to catch such a haul in all his years. The smirk of satisfaction slid right of his face after that thought, morphing into a strong frown. Which was then followed by an exasperated huff. Frustrated and tired he put the book back onto the shelf and left that section of the library, he was speed walking over to the nonfiction section once more to learn about this unknown fish. Suddenly a rather loud bell was ringing at a rather high pitch, enough to make the boy want to cover his ears. Then the feminine voice of the librarian bellowed like a banshee in the night across the whole library. "It's Seven o'clock, it's Seven o'clock", she repeated,"the library is closing now, it's time to leave." She continued as her voice as carried across the wide space of the large open building. Somehow the boy found her voice more irritated then that blasted bell and despite coming to the building almost everyday he seemed to never get accustomed to neither of those annoying sounds. However the closing of the library meant he would be forced to leave and finish his studies of the Whaling Bassic the next day. He had barley noticed the passing of time, the last time he had looked at the large oak clock on the back wall it said the time was twenty to three! Soon he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to the exit, saying nothing to the other students in the library as they all left. As the exited the mighty doorway he made is way down the large stone steps that went down to the winding pathway down the hill toward the town below. As the late summer sun was beginning to set the scholar was greeted by the chilling, salty winds of the sea that had made their way up the large hill. It took him half an hour to walk his way down the paths and cross the small valley his home was situated in. As he entered the edge of the town of Mor'vec he saw his home and walked up the small pebble walk way to the house, the stones crunching under his feet as he walked. One thing he want grateful for, in fact one of the only things, was his homes location. That it was far away enough from the town that he could distance himself from the 'commoners life', as he would put it, as much as possible. However he did wish he family would get a larger house, not that they couldn't afford it or needed the space, just so he could be more like the rich estates he was commonly associated with. Not friends though, only people he talked to every now and again before he got bored and left again.