#i play with aging toggled off and death toggled off and fires toggled off though... i don't have room for all that negative stuff

[crowsdove]

Honestly, making yourself and your f/o(s) on the sims is something that can be so wonderfully euphoric, as I've recently rediscovered

They don't have to turn out perfectly, your f/o is just so touched that you did this at all :> and like, they're floored by all the effort you put in regardless! You're so wonderful to them and they just love you so much. And if you use mods or cc to get more accurate, or even made some yourself, they are so impressed

And like, getting to build and decorate a home that's perfect for the both of you. Maybe you have similar tastes so everything matches, maybe you don't so it's a blend of things you like and things they like, either way I'm sure it turns out great because it's your shared home! And you can take super cute selfies together and put them on the walls too.

Idk, it's just so fulfilling.

Edit: I'm putting some more things in the replies of this that might be helpful like mods/cheats. It totally slipped my mind before but I don't want anyone to have a bad time so I'm doing it now

*~°~+~°~*~°~+~°~*

> Antis please dni <

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[kaija-rayne-author]

13th review in series of Dragon Age Veilguard

98 steam hours logged, 84 game hours logged on final save, (the listing in the game itself) actual gameplay hours (-2 for time in CC) either 96 or 82... depending.

14 hour discrepancy between game logged hours and steam logged hours is likely how much trouble the game gave me in loading, reloading, glitching, and crashing. Do I get to charge Bioware for those lost hours of my life?

Obligatory disclaimer, feel free to skip it if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though., every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Spoilers for Dragon Age Veilguard and everything else DA, I'm a Lore fiend.

My pithy pre-end sequence commentary.

Section 12 here.

END GAME SPOILERS

End game spoilers for BG3 too.

13 is my lucky number, but even that couldn't save it. I can't think of a single thing that can save this disaster of a game. I'll write a more professional wrap-up review post too, this is my reaction portion.

I've finished the final sequence of the game. Sat through the credits of probably a thousand people who worked on this piece of shit and still thought it releasable. AND saw the 'easter egg/future game possibility scene'. My kid said I got a hint of hope back in my eyes for about 10 seconds when that final scene popped up then the light faded again. Apparently the 'long slow horrified stare of death' was all over my face again.

Loading in, I dreaded everything I was about to see. Veilguard had already disappointed me in so many ways. I didn't have any hope the final sequence would be any better.

It wasn't as bad as I expected. It was worse. Yes. Honestly.

In all fairness (even if I really don't want to be fair right now) the last sequence does contain some of the best material in the game. If they'd actually written the rest of it with that kind of passion it probably would've been a better game. But that doesn't actually make it good. And how any average person makes it to the final sequence is beyond me. I'm stuck in bed. I've got an excuse.

So. I expected it to be long. That part didn't bother me that much. Most Dragon Age games have long final sequences.

The positive! Ummmm? Oh! I actually did get an intimate scene with Lucanis. His timing stinks but whatever. I did actually get one. I mean, it was one your aunt who's a nun probably wouldn't have found racey, but it exists! Dude. It's 2024, there's this cool toggle function you can click off if you don’t want nudity. It's a Mature rated game and I'm pretty sure most of us know what sex is. Give paying customers what they want!

My least favourite character died.

I called it on Solas killing Varric in the first scene. Interesting twist they did with that, though. Told y'all. I didn't want it to happen either, but the writing was on the wall in great big letters in drippy red paint from the second they fired Mary Kirby (Varric's writer.) In case you want more details than snark on that? Varric did indeed die when Solas stabbed him in the beginning. What you see throughout the game is Solas messing with Rook's mind because Solas needs Rook to work with him. Varric died before the story actually started. That last line of his 'take care of the team' told me. But I got taken in by the twist too. Bet that was a Weekes twist. 'It’s right in front of you the whole time.'

Elgar'nan made a WAY better final boss fight than Coryphyfish.

I did legitimately love watching Teia and Viago fight as crows. That was a really awesome section. (They're two of my favourite characters from Tevinter Nights.)

The bad.

There is no way for me to list it all. So here's the highlight reel.

Varric died.

They lifted almost the entire final battle sequence from BG3. The tentacle they have to climb to the fancy building in the sky. People falling and almost dying by tumbling down the tentacle, having to fight through said self-destructing fancy building in the sky... I know you can't copyright an idea. As an author, I understand and approve of that. But you should at least make the idea a wee bit unrecognizable as to where you lifted it from. Y'know?

Yay! We got to see Solas in wolfie form! He looks like a Chinese hairless crested dog on a really bad day. Like... really needs to go to the salon and have a bath day. I really wish I were joking.

Called it on the Solavellan ending. And NO. Trick Weekes. That DOES NOT give a suggestion of a Happy Fucking Ending. Read some fucking Romance. GOOD romance. (They do. And I'm being very mature by not calling out one of the authors they read who was one of the ones who harassed me off of Twitter. Oh. No. Two of them I've seen Trick mention as books they've read were involved in that. I guess looking at the people someone likes and respects is kinda indicative... isn't it?)

What's that say about me? I don't like very many people. I get along with people as best as my autistic/AuDHD ass can but I don't LIKE very many people at all. Nor do people tend to like me. I have no compunction about calling someone on bullshit. It makes people cranky, but I've had enough bullshit in my life. And I respect about the same amount of people as I like. If I can't respect you? I can't like you. (For anyone who does actually know me... I don't mean you. If I talk with you privately? Or even if I'm willing to? I both like and respect you. Or I wouldn't bother talking to you privately. I'm shit at reaching out. But if we've talked more than once in any form of privacy? You've made the list of my cranky ass.)

Am I a bitch? Probably. Live my life and see if you'd be any different.

No intimate scene for Solas and Inky. After ten years of waiting for Solavellans. After all the shitting on Solas we had to put up with in DAV (and OMFG there was soooo much!!) No actual happy ending. No intimate scene. Oh, but you do get a rather grody kiss between them because he's just been fighting and has blight all over his face. But yay? They get to kiss? With absolutely no passion at all. Maybe the passion of a bavarian cream pastry? A rotten one? Ew. Before dissolving into fade gook.

The entire time I spent in CC for my Inky to make her look like my player character from DAI? It didn't show up in the final sequence. And no way was I replaying that hellscape to see if it MIGHT could be coaxed into actually showing her the way I made her. I just got the stock body.

So... y'know the veil? That edge of reality that has been getting more and more holes in it throughout the entire history of the Dragon Age Franchise? The veil that the Lore has been pretty clear about it strangling both the magic and the life out of THEDAS? Not to mention everything the elves lost because of it? That veil?

It's all better now. Regardless of the Lore. Because Solas bound his life force to it. So instead of a quick bandage being pulled off to get rid of the veil that really does need to go (y'know if Bioware writers actually gave a rat's ass about the fucking lore of the world they're writing in)... Now it's there until Solas dies... which he can't really do easily being one of the first Elves. Sooooo by the very lore of the world they've crafted... THEDAS is now doomed to die.

Congrats Bioware. Well done. /s

Oh, but THAT doesn't matter. Because everything from the very beginning of DAO has been 'influenced' by 'the ones from across the sea'.

Pardon me while I gag.

The entirety of THEDAS and everything that's ever gone wrong with it is the fault of 'the foreigners from across the sea who wear clothing that's kiiiinda a lot like a Burqa.' Y'know... the black over gowns and veils Afghani women and some other Muslim folks wear?

Cause... uh... yeah. That's a GREAT idea. I legitimately cannot believe they went there. I just... I can't. Bioware hasn't ever really been great on the racism front but I'd hoped they'd gotten at least a little bit better.

Nooooope.

There were a couple of mentions of something like 'the gathering storm' in Taash's quests and how she's a weapon against them. HUGE spoiler I'm sure, but I'm pretty sure they want to make a game that deals with 'the foreign invaders who have been subtly influencing everything wearing black burqas and veils' as the next Dragon Age. Or maybe they'll call it a spin off since it has to be getting close to the end of the actual Dragon Age in the calendar.

I really hope I'm not the only one who can see the issues there. Not that I expect Bioware to. Honestly? I used to pray that DAV would save Bioware. I've liked them as a company for a while, but this is it for me. I'm done.

I might enjoy the first three DA games occasionally if I feel like it. But DAV does not exist for me. Anything they make going forward does not exist for me. That fucking bullshit about no one having had any free choices in the entire history of the games/books/comics etc.? AND the next game's bad guys looking like they wear burqas?

Bioware has made my boycott list. And I honestly hope they sink like the fucking Titanic for the shit they've pulled in DAV and that last fucking scene.

With that scene, they not only shit on many cultures who veil, they shit specifically on Afghani people who are required to wear that. Whether they want to or not.

They also, from a writing perspective, removed every single bit of agency from any of their previous characters. Making every single game pointless in the history of the world.

I'm just done. My boycott list is pretty long. I have these pesky standards. I'd already compromised them by continuing on with playing Bioware games regardless of their well known issues. But nope. Done. Finite. Time to cut the rope and watch it sink.

I would never, in a million years, recommend this game. On those two reasons alone. But also because it doesn't do anything a good CRPG (Computer Role Playing Game) is supposed to do very well.

It doesn't hold up the Dragon Age expectations for anyone who has played the games or enjoyed the lore. They basically shoved all the lore under the proverbial carpet. (Must have made a hell of a lump. That's a LOT of Lore. Trust me. I know. I've marinated myself in it.) On the surface it LOOKS like a CRPG. It has the elements of one... but so few of the elements are carried through that it's kinda shocking to me that they dared to advertise it as one. I mean... didn't someone tell them pissing off people by advertising something they aren't delivering is a bad idea?

It's full of easily fixable plot holes. Seriously, they'd be so easy to fix! They just didn't bother.

Where DAI was an intricately woven adult CRPG masterpiece? DAV is a poorly woven bedsheet with arm sized holes in it and lots and lots of stains. Made for kids.

CRPGs have a long history. Bioware and Dragon Age do too. DAO came out in 2009, Dragon Age 2 released in 2011, both were solid CRPGs. You felt like you were playing a role playing game. Bioware then released DAI in 2014. And in the Dragon Age series, DAI is the crown jewel.

It had everything a CRPG is supposed to have. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it's definitely the best of all 4 games for being what it's supposed to be.

CRPGs generally do not challenge the player as far as manual dexterity or physical response time. That's for action/fighting games. I'm not a professional level gamer. But gaming is my number one hobby and source of entertainment. I play on hard level for most games I play, if not ultra hard. I struggled with the shitty DAV fighting system. Dear gods, who had the brilliant idea of tying accumulation of skill points to how high your bond is with your companions? That's just... the kindest thing I can say is poorly thought out. Especially when you can only take two of them with you on missions. My not-a-fucking-rogue should never have had aggro. And they always did. I'm intimately acquainted with the inside the mouth animations on the dragons.

RPGs are supposed to have intricate, layered world building, a levelling system that makes your characters grow and develop as they progress through a well developed world, often they have fighting, puzzles, and other mechanics to spice things up. But there's some very specific things an RPG needs. And DAV has so few of them. They focussed so much on that shitty gods damned fighting system that had my not-a-fucking-rogue always plastered with the 'come eat me' aggro flag that they failed to deliver on so much else that an RPG needs to have. Especially a CRPG.

I think I heard someone on the dev team say they were quite happy with how the characters and romances came out and um. Well. Might I politely suggest learning how to write better? Cause they weren't. From both a professional and consumer level? They just weren't good.

The characters were dishwater boring with no character development possible. The romances were... not. I'll just leave it there.

Those are a few things I KNOW I'm good at. Just because my fans have told me often enough that I've almost internalized it by now. What? Characterization, writing intimate scenes, and writing romance. My writing voice is very love/hate like many authors. If you love my voice and read kinky romance, you'd probably like it. If you don't like my voice? No story I tell will satisfy you. But from an editorial and writing standpoint? The characters and romances in DAV needed so much work. As much as the plot.

I'm no stranger to trauma. And yes. I did it to myself. I needed to play the ending for myself and I wanted to see what the game was like. I feel traumatized. Abso-fucking-lutely traumatized.

If you're Solavellan and looking for reviews to tell you whether it's worth buying and playing? It. Is. Not. On any level.

Oh and you know those Steam Achievements you get? At the beginning they were like in the high 90s and 80s percentages. The last two I got were from the end game. 2.2% and 6.8%. Respectively. According to my kid (who usually knows more than I do about things like that) that means people stopped playing before they got there. (Or possibly just haven't gotten there yet. I did play it reasonably fast because of my current circumstances.)

I really wish I could say better things about this game. I wanted to love it as much as I loved the other three. As much as I've loved most Dragon Age material. Something about it just captured me. Until DAV.

More professional review to follow at some point.

If my review series has been helpful... and I really really hate to ask, but if it has been? My work of words is my family's only income. My partner is still recovering from a broken back, and I'm recovering from a pulmonary embolism. Money is so tight it squeaks. If you're not gonna buy the game anyway after reading my blather, a tip would surely be appreciated.

All my links are at the bottom of my website. And the tips button up top is set up too.

My response to breaking media blackout.

[gascon-en-exil]

But What If You Want to Come Out on Vers Bottom?: A “Coming Out on Top” Review (Part 1)

A review quoted on this game’s website describes it as “the Citizen Kane of ripped, naked big-dicked dudes in love.” Incredibly narrow superlative notwithstanding, that’s some high praise. Does Coming Out on Top earn it?

(I also solemnly swear not to make a relevant innuendo involving rosebuds, because there’s enough dirty wordplay here without my input.)

It’s been a bit unusual for me to return to CooT, having played it when it first released in late 2014 and then only on and off since then as the game was regularly updated. I believe it’s actually the first proper dating sim I ever played - no, Fire Emblem’s Avatar romances do not count as far as I’m concerned - and it set a very high bar for quality that has unfortunately never quite been surpassed by other (gay) titles in the genre.

This is perhaps all the more remarkable in that the premise here is not the most original thing in the world: Mark Matthews (you can change his name at the start, but I’ll be going with this default masterwork of blandness) has just come out of the closet to his two roommates Penny and Ian at the start of his final semester at university, and the story plays out from there as he meets, dates, and potentially falls in love with a wide assortment of men while also balancing his studies and his relationships with the aforementioned roommates who also double as his friend group. That’s...basically it, and apart from the romance plotlines the rest of the game’s content feels fairly extraneous. Mark can’t flunk out before the end of the story no matter how much you neglect his grades (although his job prospects in the ending will improve if you do work on them), and for the most part whatever money he amasses or friendship bonding moments he has during his free time on the weekends only plays into whether you get friendship endings with Penny and/or Ian. Unlike Chess of Blades survival is usually a given in CooT, and while there are quite a few death endings sprinkled throughout the game’s content almost all of them are played for laughs (and sometimes Steam achievements, because why not).

No, there are three major selling points here independent of the excuse plot. First and perhaps most noticeably, the writing never takes itself too seriously and incorporates everything from silly banter to fourth wall-breaking (refuse to come out at the start of the game, for an early example) to the sort of understated pun work that makes Dream Daddy’s script apparently living off corny dad jokes all the more egregious by comparison. There’s even a fair amount of self-aware meta humor, in a game released several years before the likes of Doki Doki Literature Club! made that par for the course for dating sims.

Then there’s the sheer diversity of options on display in terms of storylines and how certain scenarios play out, including the third point which is, well...the raw, uncensored gay sex. Despite the innuendo of CooT’s title Mark is not a total top, and most of the game’s myriad sex scenes can go down in a variety of different ways depending on what Mark/the player expresses a preference for - including situations involving various types of kinks. There’s also a very limited degree of body customization available; in the options menu there are toggles for Mark and all of his (primary) sexual partners that give you the option to add facial and/or body hair to their portraits and CGs. The hair options aren’t gamebreaking by any means - for Mark it only allows him to switch between twunk and otter, and while there is some diversity in race, age, and body type among his love interests and hookups there’s still a notable number of muscled 20-somethings. Still, I do appreciate that the toggles are there. You’ll notice my own preferences for the guys in my screenshots.

Back to that other kind of variety though. With six primary love interests and numerous divergent paths for each of them - some good, some bad, and some hilariously strange - there’s a ton of content to work through in CooT. The pathing is set up so that you get the opportunity to meet almost all of the love interests before you’re asked to commit to one of their stories, something the game heavily telegraphs so you’ll never feel like you’ve been unknowingly pushed past a point of no return. These introductions are generally on the SFW side, but there are two chances for some rauchy fun even before you commit so let it not be said that this game has strictly enforced monogamy at all times. On that note, there’s also Brofinder.

Penny comically missing the point aside, Brofinder is an in-universe Grindr equivalent. It can be accessed if you decline to pursue any of the love interests, or more conveniently from the main menu independent of the story. Fittingly for the type of app it’s lampooning, Brofinder dates are disconnected vignettes that all, if done correctly, end in some hot NSA action but impact nothing else after you’ve completed them. There are ten of these, all added via progressive updates following the game’s initial release, and taken together they add substantially to the many ways in which Mark can get laid.

I should also mention the secret seventh joke “love interest,” but as that one has become a bit of a minor meme and will probably come up if you Google blindly about this game I’ll leave it at that.

...Yeah. Leaving it right there.

There are some places where the presentation of CooT falters, but nothing on the scale of the dodgy voice acting found in some of the other gay dating sims I’ve discussed - mostly because there is no voice acting. Aside from the CGs and the character portraits the artwork can be rather workmanlike and forgettable, and similarly almost all of the soundtrack I would liken to elevator music which might have inspired one of the Brofinder dates now that I think about it. The supporting cast on the whole also doesn’t get much opportunity to shine aside from Mark’s roommates, because the love interests’ stories are all unrelated to each other and as such the people around them can only be involved in one of the game’s plots. I’m tempted to sum this all up as weak worldbuilding, but let’s be honest here - all this game needs is the suggestion of a generic American university and surrounding town peopled mostly with archetypes (at times comedically memorable ones, granted) to give it sufficient background. Most actual porn gets away with far less than that.

When I did my review of Chess of Blades I was able to discuss each of its love interests in a single follow-up post, but CooT simply has too much going on for that. Therefore this review will have three additional parts: two covering the six primary love interests, and a third going more quickly over the Brofinder dates. At time of writing I don’t think I’m also going to be grading the sex scenes of how realistic they are like I did with CoB, because there are too many of them and nothing sticks out as egregiously as it does in that game. There will however be as much description for them as I can manage; that is the main selling point here, after all.

[ikesenhell]

1985 Camaro

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Brief conversation about prior death, otherwise safe. Thank you @missjudge-me for commissioning this piece!

---

They camped out on the back patio until the sun set. He cooked gyoza and rice balls and some pan-fried chicken, and she ordered ice cream delivery, and they nested their knees together and tucked into a pint of something labeled ‘Just Ask’ and when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him, not even when he tickled her (It wound up being a delicious caramel-Oreo flavor). She instead told him about her degree and moving out, about keeping in contact with Mitsunari as he served in Tanzania through hand-written notes on origami paper. They swapped curated Instagram snapshots and embarrassing anecdotes and reminisced. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “About your dad.”

Masamune shrugged. There was nothing to say. It hurt and always would, but that was his private journey. “Old bastard waited too long to have kids s’what. If he’d had me at a nice, respectable age, we wouldn’t be doing this, the old coot!” He waved a dramatic fist at the sky, relishing her giggles. “You fucked up!”

Overhead, his mother’s bedroom light flicked on. 

“Shit,” he muttered. She dropped her face into her hands to stifle the raucous laughter. 

“How—” Now she was whispering. Masamune wriggled closer, their legs reflexively entwining. “How’s that going?”

“Better than it used to. We can talk without yelling. Something something time and distance. I’m planning on hunkering down here for a little bit, and once all of the stuff is settled, I’ll probably go back north. The restaurant owners offered to hold my position for me, which is really nice.” 

“Hell yeah it is. Isn’t that kind of a cut throat world? They must love you.”

“Yeah. Good openings don’t stay open long in the restaurant biz, so that’s really cool.” Absently, he ran his thumb over the whorls of the deck. “What about you? What’s next?”

“Well.” And she paused, eyes luminous. “I got offered a job interview out east. It’s a good job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Once upon a time, when she was too nervous to really settle her heart on something she wanted, she smiled shyly and fluttered her eyes away. Some things stayed the same. His heart surged as the familiar expression played out before him. “It could be a game changer for me.”

“That the case, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have to do some logistics, and I have to interview, right? But if I get it…” She stretched up to the sky, wriggling her fingers long at the clouds, all the prickled flesh on her arms visible in the cold moonlight. Without thinking, he shuffled closer to warm her. “I mean, I have to actually get to the interview first, so there’s the first hurdle.”

Masamune chewed his lip. “How far out is it?”

“It’s in Virginia. Complete other side of the country. The plane tickets are outrageous.”

“Damn. Guess you’re road tripping, huh?”

A gust of warm breath huffed from her lips. “I mean, I hate going on them alone, but I don’t even have a car right now. Mine got totaled; kid hit me when I was driving down here. Guess I’m taking a damn greyhound.”

His first reaction was to say ‘yikes’, and then… well. Masamune paused, soaking in the possibilities. “So you need a car is what you’re saying?”

“Mmhmm.”

Back in the day, his dad often said that the universe lined things up. Masamune didn't exactly believe in fate—he believed in making things happen—but occasionally, he saw the reasoning. 

“How do you like eighties cars?” He asked. 

She eyed him, a smile in her eyes and voice. “Like the Camaro? Sure, it’s cool. Why?”

Masamune snickered. “Everything in the Date family is cool as hell. What if I told you I could get you a car and a road trip buddy?”

The click of her brain working was almost audible. “Don’t you have to be here?”

“Gotta wait for the death certificates, which is probably a week or so. Mom wants the Camaro gone, and if she has to be around me too long, she’ll probably get sick of me real quick. I might as well make myself scarce and hang out with a dear friend. Besides—I’ll cut you a deal on selling you it. Call it a test drive.”

“A test drive? For like, a week?” But she was grinning, her shoulders angled in toward his. “Weeklong test drives aren’t kosher, Mr. Date.”

“And I’m not Jewish.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious as my dad’s grave.” Masamume brushed a lock of stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Want me along for the ride?”

Once upon a time, years ago, the whole gang got into an altercation with an older man in a Ford pickup. They were only teenagers sitting on a dock, but the guy pulled up and screamed at them for ‘loitering’. Mitsunari tried to intervene, and when the man acted like he might hit him, Ieyasu almost threw hands himself. They’d retreated into the woods—and when the man left, Masamune, Mitsuhide, and she went back and lit the dock on fire to spite him. Right beforehand, she’d fixed him with the most mischievous expression he’d ever seen: mouth sucked into her teeth, eyes glittering, staring out from under her lashes. 

Now, she made that same expression, and it lit a fire in him. 

“We’d have to leave like…” She mentally calculated. “In three days to make it.”

“Or we could take the long road, do a little sightseeing, and leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She echoed. Only a half second later, that smile was back. “I’m game.”

---

At six a.m. sharp, Masamune tried to wake her by flinging rocks at her window. That didn't work. At last he resorted to calling her, discovering that she stayed in a completely different room now. 

“Could’a used that knowledge,” he chuckled, hopping in place to warm his legs. The fog pressed in around him, September chill early this year. “Don’t suppose anyone is using that room?”

Her voice was thin, but warm over the phone. “No, it’s a home gym now.” 

“Great! I didn't hassle anyone else. Get out here, Kitten, we got a road to get on.”

She emerged twenty minutes later, sweatpants fresh from the dryer, wet hair in a sloppy bun and a suitcase click-clacking behind her. She never was a morning person. Masamune snickered and popped the Camaro trunk. “Wanna drive, or wanna let me do it?”

“You start. Can we get some Starbucks?”

“Ugh.” He clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “All of the coffee places in the world, and you want Starbucks. My palate is crying.”

Rolling her eyes, she slid into the passenger seat. “Drama queen.”

They got Starbucks. She tucked her feet into fuzzy socks and folded them under her knees, clutching the large mocha. Only the rush of the road beneath their tires filled the silence. Asphalt and trees emerged from the mist like a benevolent ghost, Americana obscured. They’d only just merged onto the highway when Masamune realized there wasn’t an audio jack in the car.

“Shit,” he muttered. 

She opened her eyes, head lolling on the headrest. “What?”

He flicked the dashboard. Nope, no audio jack. Not even a CD player. No; amidst all the toggles and buttons of the dash was a cassette player. “I don’t have anything to listen to. This thing won’t hook up to the phones, and I don’t have any tapes.”

“Hm.” Taking a long sip of her drink, she mused, “Maybe your dad has some in here?”

“I guess that’d make sense. Take a look around, would you?”

Sure enough, she was right. Tucked away in the glove compartment was a treasure trove: Fleetwood Mac, Eagles, AC/DC, Prince, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen. “Damn,” she chuckled, “Your dad had good taste.”

Masamune took the copy of Rumors in his fingers, never taking his eyes off the road. The dust was thick under his thumb. “He’d play ‘Back in Black’ when he picked me up from school. It was cool as hell.” With a snap, he pried open the copy of Rumors and popped it into the player. The speakers hummed to life with strumming guitar, Fleetwood Mac echoing. “I know there’s nothing to say, someone has taken my place…” She rested her elbow on the center console, brushing his arm with her as she texted. 

“Guess what?” She murmured. “Mitsunari just got back from Tanzania.”

“Oh shit, really?” How long had it been? Masamune mentally calculated the dates. “I guess it has been two years, huh? The Peace Corps finally turned him loose?”

“Yeah. He’s apparently crashing at Ieyasu’s place—” Masamune barked a laugh, and she tittered, but continued, “—and wants to know if we’re going to head that direction.”

“He’s in Maryland, right?” Fishing out his phone, he checked it. “Yasu didn't tell me about this. Bastard. Well, we get there fast enough, then we can definitely hunker down there for a day or so and celebrate his coming back.”

Classic rock kept them company on the long drive. He didn't mind roadtrips. There was something sacred about them. Forget the American Dream; it was dead. Long live the American Road Trip, a rite of passage for the lost souls from sea to shining sea. Nothing cleared the senses like cranking up the heater on the floorboards and rolling down the window to a blast of autumn air. She let down her hair and it whipped wild in the wind. 

Thank God she was here. Masamune quietly relished her reappearance in his life. She was a gateway to an old world, one with his father alive, one where he still snuck out of the house at night and biked to the 7-Eleven for slurpees at 3a.m. They stopped at a Cracker Barrel for dinner and ordered root beer floats and roasted each other over the annoying ‘jump-the-pegs’ game perched on every table. Though you were supposed to reduce it to one peg, she couldn’t quite manage it. Somehow she kept getting two or three. 

“I got it down to one peg once,” she laughed, shoving it toward him. Masamune swirled it under his hand. 

“I can do it,” he commented. “But that’s because Mitsunari taught me the trick years ago.” He knocked the first peg out of the top of the triangle, moving it elsewhere. “That’s the one that’s gotta be empty. From there on out, there’s a set solution.”

She craned over it, investigating. “What’s the set solution?”

A long, hefty pause lingered between them as he slurped some of his float. 

“Dunno anymore.” He cracked a grin. “I forgot like, eight years ago.”

“Ass! Then you don’t know!” She swatted at his arm and grinned. “Liar!”

“Hey! I was just trying to look cool in front’a you, Kitten, I can’t look like some big dumb stud after all these years—”

“I love how you allow for the possibility that you’re dumb,” she cackled, “but not the possibility that you’re anything other than hot.”

“Am I wrong? Look at me.”

The roll of her eyes was exactly what he wanted. She shoved a biscuit at him over the table. “I think Mark Twain said something like, ‘it’s better to stop talking and appear dumb than open your mouth and remove any doubt’, Masamune.”

He clutched at his chest, but took the biscuit anyway. “You wound me, Kitten.”

As they were paying the bill, she split off and reappeared a minute later, plunking thirty cents onto the cash register and tucking a cinnamon stick into his jacket pocket. “Here.”

“My favorite!” He peeled back the plastic wrapper. “Thanks, Kitkat. You remembered.”

For the first time since they’d seen each other again, her expression evolved to one he’d almost forgotten. He’d only seen it once before. It was a moonlit night back in their senior year, after prom, when they were both lingering in the pool as everyone else passed out drunk. He’d wiped a leaf from her hair and told her she was beautiful, and she’d looked at him like that so long and hard that he wondered if he’d ever known her inner thoughts at all. 

“Of course I remembered,” she answered at last, soft and clarion clear. “I remember all kinds of things about you, Masamune.”

[randomly-random-jen]

Attention to Detail (4/6)

A Red vs Blue fanfic

Chapter 4

It seemed like forever before Church got the vomiting under control. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then gulped water right from the tap, swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out. What he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush right now.

He’d forgotten about this side of having fun. He found that kind of ironic—what with being made of pure memory. He didn’t dwell on it. He did consider ditching this body for someone less pukey, but after splashing water on his face, he felt better. And switching would just confuse Caboose.

Church hurried back to where he last saw the gang—near an ice cream stand where Grif had been trying to convince Simmons that mixing all ten flavors was a sure cure for a hangover—but when he got there, the shop had closed. Fuck.

He scanned the mass of people, looking for a mop of black hair bobbing above the others. Or a glimpse of the turquoise sundress Carolina was wearing that was giving Church very confusing and uncomfortable feelings. He saw only strangers.

“Great,” he muttered. “They ditched me.”

He rubbed his face, wincing at his sore nose. This poor bastard was going to wake up to one hell of a hangover in the morning. Instinctively, Church reached for his radio toggle before remembering a second later he wasn’t wearing his armor. He wasn’t even wearing his own skin. Now what? Caboose would never voluntarily leave without him, so he figured they went on ahead when he took too long.

He located the looming beast towering over the other buildings—the sounds of delighted screams drifting on the wind like a dream. His stomach twisted again, but he ignored it. How many battles had he been in now? How many near-deaths? How many horrible tortures had he endured? 

“Too fucking many,” he mumbled, getting a nasty look from a mother dragging a little girl behind her. The girl had red pigtails and green eyes. They were the wrong shade, but for a second he was back on Earth—a tiny girl by his side.

“Look at my dress, Daddy. It floats.”

Church shook his head as the spinning girl in his memories morphed into the one in front of him who was currently sticking out her tongue. He resisted the urge to flip the kid off.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the lady then sprinted away because she had that look like she was about to lay into him. Carolina gave him that look a lot—it never ended well.

His heart didn’t settle for three whole blocks. What the hell was that? It sure wasn’t his memory. Or Alpha’s. But he knew, deep down, it was still him—Leonard Church. They were all essentially the same person at their core. Just their experiences sent them on different paths.

Church swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the dampness from his cheeks. Fuck, he was never drinking again.

“Cody! Hey, Cody, wait up. Cody!” Someone grabbed Church’s arm, spinning him around. “I knew it was you?” the petite brunette said, hugging him. “It’s been forever. How have you been?”

“Uh-” Church blinked at the girl. It took him a second to match the name she called him to the one on the ID in his wallet. Cody Lawson. Age twenty-two. From Portland, Oregon. Wonder what he was doing so far from home? He cleared his throat when he realized she was waiting for some kind of response. “Um, okay, I guess?”

She slapped his arm. Hard. “That’s all you have to say? Okay, you guess? What happened to your grand plan to see the galaxy one planet at a time?”

“Well, um. I-” Was he always this awkward talking to girls? Tex would say yes. He shoved the thought of Tex way back in his brain where he kept the shit he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. The girl was still waiting for a real answer. The best lies are the ones rooted in truth. Someone had told him that once—probably Tex. He took a deep breath. “Well, see, there’s this war. And it’s pretty much everywhere, and one thing led to another. And I got drafted.” He shrugged.

Horror replaced the curiosity on her face. “Oh, Cody, no! You’re a pacifist. Can’t you like conscientiously object or something? Protest?”

Figures the guy in plaid shorts would be a pussy. But then he thought of Doc, and as annoying and often useless as the guy was, he held his own in battle. With or without O’Malley riding shotgun. “See, I figure,” Church told her, “I go into the medical corps. Couple years training to be a medic and then I’ll be saving people instead of shooting them.” He felt really proud of that whopper until the girl gasped.

“But you didn’t even finish high school. You said you were dropping out because you couldn’t read. I think you need to know how to read to be a medic.”

For crying out loud. He was so done with this conversation. Thankfully, he saw a flash of aqua and red hair in the distance. Finally. He shrugged at the girl. “Eh, I hear they take anyone now—they’re kind of desperate. Gotta go.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before taking off.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carolina yelled. Church was amazed at how clear her speech was when he was still fighting his tongue every other word.

“Nice to see you, too, sis.”

That softened the anger storming in her eyes. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a puff that ruffled her bangs. “Did I mention I’m a mean drunk?”

“The meanest,” Wash agreed, coming up behind her with a steaming cup of coffee. “This one time, her and Maine-”

Carolina slapped her hand over his mouth. “We agreed we’d never speak of that again.”

Wash winked at Church and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

Church smiled. Damn, his face hurt from all of the smiling he’d done today. And it felt pretty fucking good. Seeing Carolina and Wash happy after everything they’d been through—even if it was for this brief moment—was worth compromising his dicey morals. He knew he was the cause of most of their pain. In one way or another. Wash more personally. His smile faltered. Another thought to keep Tex company in the back of his mind. Eventually, he would have to take stock and clear the skeletons in his closet. But not today. Today, he was on vacation.

“Where is everybody?” Church asked before he was swallowed by his dark thoughts.

“Don’t know. We turned around a second and they were gone,” Carolina said.

“And by ‘turn around,’ she means puking in a trash can and getting a ticket for public intoxication.” 

Church snorted as Carolina punched Wash in the arm. He rubbed the spot with a goofy grin.

Carolina grabbed their arms, dragging them along. “Come on Tweedledee and Tweedledum, let’s go find the others. It’s getting dark and we should be heading back.”

“Yes, Mom,” Wash mumbled.

“Don’t make me smack you again.”

“Yeah, Tweedledum, leave her alone. She’s had a hard day of drinking and puking.”

“Reminds me of my college days. Brief as they were.”

Carolina glared at Church over her shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t deck you, too.”

Church laughed. “Oh, I know you would, Carolina.” He shot her a crooked grin, getting an eye roll in return. It was weird seeing everyone without their armor. Faces expressed so much emotion that was normally lost behind a visor. He wondered how often Carolina rolled her eyes at him.

“Now wait a minute,” Wash said. “I am most definitely Tweedledee. You’re Tweedledum.”

“What? No way. I’m not being Tweedledum. He’s, well, the dumb one.”

A grin slid across Wash’s face. “Too bad. I call dibs.”

“You can’t call dibs on a name.”

“Can.”

“Not.”

“Carolina?”

She let out an exasperated sigh—the kind Church’s mother gave him when he was little and on her last nerve. “They’re both idiots so the names could go either way.”

“See,” Church said, but was cut off by Carolina.

“But, Tweedledee did call dibs. Sorry, Dummy.”

“You both suck,” Church grumbled while Carolina and Wash laughed at him. There was nothing but affection behind his words, though.

They finally arrived at the line for the roller coaster. The front half was full of queued people. The end was occupied by only three red soldiers.

“Lift those legs, maggots. Double time!”

“But, Sarge,” Grif whined as he jogged through the winding fences. “I’m on vacation.”

Simmons was a few turns farther along, cursing under his breath.

“Preparedness takes no vacations, Private. What would you do if we were suddenly attacked by unseen alien forces?”

“Honestly, sir,” Grif said through gasps, “I’d just bow down to my new alien overlords. They probably treat their army better than this.”

Sarge smacked Grif with a stick he was carrying like a shotgun. “Nonsense. You will lay down your life in the line of fire protecting your commanding officer. As it says in my report, er, will say. Now drop and give me twenty.”

The three of them gave Sarge a wide berth. Church was pretty sure Grif was crying. He hopped over the barrier to join Simmons as he walked back and forth along the path. “You okay?”

Simmons held his side and sucked in gulping breaths. “That man is deranged. He’s going to kill us. Kill Grif.”

They glanced over their shoulders. Wash patted Simmons’ shoulder. “I think I’ll go rescue him. I really don’t want to drag an unconscious Grif back to the ship. Save me a spot in line.”

Simmons moaned. “I am not going on that thing. I don’t care what Sarge does. I’ll take the court-martial. I don’t give a fuck. I’m done.” He slid under the fence and trudged to the nearest bench where he collapsed.

“Wow,” Church said. “Looks like Red team is falling apart.”

“It’s a nice change of pace,” Carolina said with a nod. The two of them continued to zig-zag along the path. Church smiled when Carolina started singing along with the song playing over the speakers lining the path. God, she was awful.

As they caught up with the tail end of the line, Church caught sight of a pink oxford shirt and ugly purple hoodie. “Hey, there’s the others,” he said with a sigh. “Finally.”

They annoyed quite a few people in line as they pushed through and hopped the fences to get to their friends. Doc and Donut waved, each holding an ice cream cone.

“Where the fu-” Tucker uncharacteristically stumbled over his words. He eyed a little old lady standing nearby and cleared his throat. “Heck. Where the heck have you been?”

“Long story,” Church said, absently. He counted the people with Tucker and came up one short. Church looked around. “Where’s Caboose?”

Tucker frowned. “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”

Church’s real human heart stopped. His lungs refused to work. Shit. Shit. Shit. How could he let this happen? Caboose depended on him to keep him safe. And he failed.

Again.

Later, they’d go over the day, detail by detail, looking for those missed signs. Beating themselves up for not paying better attention. For not keeping a closer eye on Caboose. It will be one of those lessons they learned the hard way. Which, let’s face it, has been the majority of their lessons so far.

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5