#it’s not the moustache itself to be clear I just think it’s funny

[braxiatel]

Guys would you still love me if I told you I’ve encountered another moustache man I can feel my fandom brain getting drawn to be honest 👉👈

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Quite at Home in Hell

For @whumptober2021 day six & day 21:  blood-matted hair & hunger

CW: Vampirism, blood drinking, noncon touch, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper, biting, captivity, dehumanizing language

Vampire Chris AU Masterlist | Follows directly from this piece

Thanks to @boxboysandotherwhump for helping me with the German & @alittlewhump for helping with the French!

-

1918, the Western Front of WWI

The prisoners are held in a small, hastily constructed sort of barracks far too close to the front lines.

Gefrieter Erich Eeten knows why, of course. The hope is that his own people will hesitate before they blast this bit of dirt apart, that they will be concerned enough about killing their fellow soldiers that they’ll give up a few key moments of pause to the French, the Americans, and the British. Give them the advantage in a firefight.

They want to shield themselves with the bodies of the men in this tent, unwashed and dirty, who are exhausted from a day spent digging trenches for their enemies to hide in. 

He can’t exactly blame the Allied powers for it. 

It’s a brilliant bit of strategy, if less and less effective as men on both sides become so battle-hardened that they cease to care about their own lives, let alone each other. Still. He’d almost rather be at one of the true POW camps further away from the front lines, where the Red Cross at least comes to check on their treatment.

Here, so close to the front, there is no one keeping watch on what happens to them at all… and the longer the war draws on, the more viciously they kill each other, the more the prisoners kept here too far for oversight feel like they are teetering at the edge of some terrible invisible cliff. 

There’s a stiff breeze outside the tent, whipping the heavy, waterproofed canvas edges. They’re flapping a little, making a sound that Erich will one day hear in his nightmares. The cold sneaks in through the slight space between tent and ground, and the men in here are huddled together for warmth, sharing the meager blankets they are given. 

At least, though, their captors are officially the French. 

Say what you will about the blasted frogs, they never deny their prisoners a nip of strong cognac to help hold off the cold. The Americans, on the other hand, seem to be laboring under an enforced lack of good liquor, not just for prisoners but for their own soldiers, too. That seems a worse crime than nearly any other, in circumstances like this. To force a man to be a cruel killer without even a nip or three to soothe his conscience… to Erich, it sounds like brutality.

There’s a bit of a scuffle outside the tent, and the prisoners look up. Erich is at the back, leaning back against the rough frame of a cot he sleeps on at night, cards in his hands wrapped in strips of bandage cloth just for warmth. What happened to his gloves, he’s no idea. Probably one of the Allies took them for a souvenir.

The canvas wraps work well enough.

“Au garde-à-vous, prisonniers! Sur vos pieds!” Erich knows the voice - it’s the main guard of the tent they sleep in, a man named Alain who looks entirely too old for war. Here he is, anyway, all moustache and silvering hair, pulling open the entrance of the tent, moving the flap aside. 

Erich glances left and then right, meeting the eyes of his fellow prisoners, and the half-dozen of them that share this single small tent push heavily to their feet, shifting apart as much as the tent will allow, hands behind their back. 

His stomach dips, a low drumbeat of dread alongside his heart. Something tells him this isn’t a social call he wants to be part of. 

He’s even more certain when a tall, thin American steps into the entrance, nearly silhouetted by the dim, barely-there light behind them. Their hair is long, in a loose plait with parts undone, and their eyes gleam, briefly seeming to glow in the dark. Erich is reminded of his mother’s cat, who would stalk mice at night and whose eyes did just the same when light hit them.

He feels very… mouselike.

They wear a medic’s uniform, but it’s a little tattered. There are unrepaired bullet holes through the heavy woolen tunic, and they move with grace and disdain for how heavy wet wool must be, how itchy and uncomfortable. As if it simply doesn’t matter to them.

Because, of course, it doesn’t. The damn thing is a walking corpse, baring fangs in a grisly smile.

“Hello, soldiers,” They say, in a voice that isn’t quite a purr. “You all look a fright.”

“Verdammte Blutsauger,” Lukas Müller mutters to his right. 

Erich hates the bloodsuckers. Everyone does. They come with the Americans, monsters brought from the shadows as a kind of secret weapon. Erich has never seen vampires out in the open before - back home, they are creatures of hiding. They live in cellars and basements and houses with the windows painted in thick matte black. They sweep along the streets at night, a risk for anyone who stays out too late.

But they’re not part of anything. 

Here, they’re death itself, demons quite at home in hell.

 Oh, sure, the Americans claim they use them only for bringing the injured back to safety - and some of them, he’s sure, are kept to that purpose. Some kind of ability to deny the truth of them, if there are enough seen doing only what the official story claims.

Erich, though, has seen one dispatching wounded German soldiers one by one left behind in a field, killing them before they can be recovered by their own people. He’s seen one with fangs buried in the throat of a man who would otherwise have lived. They’re listed as medics, but those things are what keeps the Germans on their own side of the battle lines after dark, and everyone knows it. 

His own side brings canisters of poison gas. The Americans respond with an army laced around its edges in abominations the gas can’t touch.

The vampire sighs, faintly disappointed. “No good morning for me from my audience?”

Erich speaks the best English out of them all - his grandmother was English, taught it to his father in the cradle, who taught it to him. It’s made him more or less the spokesman for his small group of prisoners, and for the larger group when they are moved and briefly allowed to interact with the others. He clears his throat, stepping forward slightly. Lukas and Vilhelm, on his other side, nudge him just a little with their shoulders. It’s meant to be support, he supposes. 

He feels like he’s being pushed onto a target painted on the floor, one invisible only to him. 

“Good morning,” Erich says, voice flat, letting his accent roll far more heavily off his tongue than it needs to, turning good into gut. It’s always good to let the enemy believe you know less than you really do, so he pretends that English comes with difficulty and not ease. “Should you not turn to ash?”

Their eyebrows raise just slightly, not quite in amusement, and they give a brittle little laugh. “First off, Fritz, that’s a myth. Secondly, it’s not even morning. Probably close to evening now, honestly.” 

Erich rolls his eyes. Lukas mutters something under his breath next to him, but the slight creaking of their boots seems to cover it too much to be understandable. Erich sighs, heavily. “Then why did you have us say to you good morning, Blutsauger?” 

“Because it’s funny that you don’t know what time it is, of course. All right, who here is Fritz, who is Hans, and who am I just going to call Kraut?” 

“No one here is named Hans and no one is Fritz, fangs.” Erich tips his chin down slightly, a lock of greasy brown hair falling into his eyes. “May you drown in holy water.”

He spits at the vampire’s feet.

He feels a pang of regret when the vampire turns to look at Alain, the French guard and points back at Erich, cheerful. “I want that one. He’s rude.”

“Das ist pech,” Lukas whispers.

When Alain simply stares at them blankly - and Erich knows Alain speaks English, they’ve spoken before in a tongue they had in common when neither spoke the other’s mother-tongue -  the vampire groans. They don’t seem to know Alain is pretending not to understand them. “Fine. Let’s try this again. Je veux cet homme, s'il vous plaît.”

Alain’s expression tightens a little. He nods, and he won’t look Erich in the eyes as he draws the entrance open a little wider. “Emmenez-le alors.”

“Merci beaucoup,” The vampire says, giving a little bow. Erich backs up, but there isn’t anywhere to go, and none of them is armed. Besides, any resistance is met with removal of meals, with being denied the smallest comforts that make this bearable. With the possibility of all of them being handed over to a vampire, not just one.

This war had been civilized, in some ways, before the Americans brought their monsters.

It’s not actually true, but in this moment it comforts him to pretend it, to have a place to put his furious disgust as the vampire’s thin, long fingers close around his arm and yank him forwards with inhuman strength. They’re clicking their tongue against the top of their mouth in a strange animal way. Erich thinks again of his mother’s cat, making just that sound watching birds outside the windows.

“May your hands be pressed into the holy cross,” Erich snaps as he’s forced out into the freezing humid air outside the tent. There are others walking around - a war camp is never less than controlled chaos, no matter the time of day - but none of them will look at him. No one acknowledges him, although they’ve all seen this before. They know what’s going to happen here. 

“Je déteste ça,” Alain mutters.

A bell is rung, clanging in a discordant note, and soldiers move into the POW tents. Erich is led towards a pole in the center of the ring of prisoner tents, something that a half-century ago might still have been a flogging post, a punishment for mutinous men. 

“Crosses don’t really harm us,” The vampire says, careless and casual. “Very little does, actually. I’m a big fan of garlic, for instance. Silver, though…” They hum, dragging a fingernail over Erich’s wrist. “That hurts.”

He jerks his hand back and free, only to have the vampire laugh, bright and brilliant, and grab him again, spinning him around until they’re behind him, chest pressed to his back, using that demon strength to twist his arms up his back until his bones creak and ache, forcing him forwards towards the pole. 

“I hope you have silver shoved down your throat,” Erich manages, but his heart is pounding in fear as the vampire grabs his hair and jerks his head to the side, forcing his cheek against the rough-hewn wood. Splinters bite into his skin and he grunts as his arms are moved, forced to encircle the pole. His wrists are tied with rope, leaving him looking a little ridiculous, as if he decided today to go for a hug. 

Another rope goes around his shoulders, keeping him in this awkwardly pressed position. He tries to kick back, pulling viciously, but then his ankles come next. The rope goes from them to small metal hooks driven hard into the ground, keeping his legs more than shoulder-width apart. He can’t kick, or even balance himself. He must rely entirely on the pole he’s tied to in order to stay upright. 

“I’m going to enjoy you,” The vampire murmurs. 

Behind Erich, the sounds of a crowd gathering begin. Soft mumbles, exhalations of surprise and disgust. He closes his eyes against the rush of heat he feels - more rage than tears - knowing the prisoners are being brought out to witness this, to be shown what could happen to them next.

It does an excellent job of making them grateful for every day it’s not.

The French commander of the POW camp is barking a running list of commands to his men, but Erich doesn’t speak enough French to clearly understand them. Someone comes close by behind him, and he jolts as there’s a clap to his back. There’s a laugh behind him, not the vampire but someone else.

He manages to see from the corner of his eyes. A different American, of course. Comfortable enough with the vampire to get this close to them. 

“Isn’t this a sorry sight,” The American says, and laughs. “What’s the prize for, fangs?”

The vampire lifts their hand, gently brushing Erich’s hair from his eyes. He spits in their face, this time, and is gratified by a flash of very real anger that briefly overtakes their constant amusement. They slowly wipe the spit away, then clean their hand - sort of - on Erich’s uniform. 

It’s so dirty they’re probably even less clean after that than they were before.

“Reported a desertion. Now I get fresh food.” They lean down, meeting Erich’s furious hazel eyes. “I’m so hungry, Fritz. All the time. Imagine being surrounded by schnitzel and cabbage as far as the eye can see, and you’re not supposed to eat your fill. Imagine how empty you would feel.”

“Fick dich.” 

“What, you won’t even curse at me in English anymore?” The vampire pouts, lower lip sticking out. He hates them more than he’s hated anyone during this godforsaken war. “Come on, you have to understand how hard this is for me, right?”

Erich ignores them, jerks his wrists again, trying to yank himself free of the ropes through sheer force. His back already is aching from being slightly bent forward, his thigh muscles stretched. He does the only thing he can think of - he slowly, with effort, drags his face along the wood and manages to turn away, and look the other direction. 

“Well, fine. I suppose you’ll be mad at me for acting like you all eat schnitzel and cabbage, too,” The vampire says behind him. He doesn’t dignify them with an answer. He fixes his eyes, instead, on a point in the dark roiling clouds in the sky, above the remaining trees. 

“The prisoners are well-positioned to witness,” A French officer states, speaking with a light, dancing accent but without the difficulty and hesitancy some of the regular infantry have. “You may feed when ready, Private Saathoff.”

That gets Erich’s attention. “Saathoff?”

“That’s right.” The vampire laughs, stepping up behind him. Their fingers move through the hair that curls, grown a little too long, over the back of his neck. He shudders with disgust at the intimacy of it. Their mouth moves close to his ear, but there is no heat of breath. Only the brush of lips. “Ich bin Deustcher, genau wie du.” 

“Nothing like me,” Erich grinds out with his teeth gritted together so hard his jaw is already aching. He presses his forehead into the rough wooden pole and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. 

If he’s going to die…

“Vater unser im Himmel,” he begins, halting. He hasn’t seen the inside of a church since he was fourteen, and that was twelve years ago now. Still, the words to the Lord’s Prayer come easily, more muscle memory than thought. “Geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden-”

“Zu jeder anderen Zeit hätte ich dich als Haustier behalten.” They use his hair to jerk his head back, and their fangs jam into his neck with a flash of sudden agony.

It’s a white-hot pain that races down his spine to the very tips of his toes, and Erich screams, the sound strangled and thin but still echoing, bouncing off of trees and tents and back into his mind, crashing like the shells that slam into the earth. 

Lukas jerks forwards as if to run to help him and is pushed back by one of the French soldiers, their expression set in a grim line. They have to twist Lukas’s arms behind his back to hold him as he shouts, angrily, that this isn’t fair, it’s against the laws of conduct. 

There’s laughter, at that, from their captors. 

The other prisoners grumble and shift uncomfortably, look at anything but Erich whenever they can, but they can’t escape the sound of his horror, of his pain. 

There’s no pulse of the much-spoken-of venom. There’s no numbness to drift in, there’s no fog to cloud out his awareness of what is happening to him. Every muscle of Erich’s body is tensed tight enough to snap the bones they wrap around, the veins standing out in his throat as if giving them a roadmap of where the food can be found.

He didn’t know vampires could choose not to use the venom.

He didn’t know they could make it feel like this.

When his scream dies, he can’t get enough breath to make another. All he can do is let out high-pitched, thin whimpers and cries. Spots dance before his eyes. Beneath the sound of his heart pounding in a sudden panic to push more blood faster to replace what is being lost, he can feel - can hear - a low rumbling sound against his back.

Erich has heard the rumors that vampires purr, and now he knows they aren’t rumors at all.

He can feel it right through his back, just barely. It’s a vibration that would be pleasant if it didn’t seem to be somehow making everything hurt even worse, waking up his nerves the way the venom is supposed to deaden them. Their hands are closed around his ribs, pressing the tips of their fingers rhythmically against them, as if playing a piano, as if he is dough to be kneaded, as if he isn’t human at all.

As if he’s nothing but a field mouse that found his way into the wrong house, and the vampire is the housecat who has waited too long for a living toy to torment.

There is no prayer, in pain like this. There is no thought beyond the body’s fight for survival and the mind wanting to flee from it, if surviving means this feeling will not end. There is nothing but the feeling of his blood being pulled forcefully out of his body, nothing but his nerves screaming to escape it, nothing but the bite of the ropes that ensure he can do no more than jerk in his bonds and choke on his agony.

It feels like forever - and like a moment - when their fangs pull free, their cool rough tongue lapping at the wounds to close them, purring against his ear with contentment. Their fingers knead into his skin a little bit longer, drawing the moment out as he slumps against the wooden pole he’s tied to. He’s only standing because of the ropes.

Pain rolls through him, breaking against the edges of his body from the inside, like the smaller waves after a storm falling onto a beach already strewn with debris. He slumps. His own breath is a rasping wheeze, taking far more effort than it should.

Nein, Erich, Erich stirb nicht…” Lukas’s voice comes from somewhere so far away, filtering through the noise in Erich’s mind slowly. He can’t even begin to form a response. His mouth won’t answer his commands. It only hangs open, panting, pulling in the chilly air over his tongue. He starts to shiver as the breeze hits the cold sweat in his hair and on his neck, cuts through his uniform somehow.

He doesn’t have enough blood left to warm himself.

Their tongue licks up his neck behind his ear, matting his own blood into his hair there, sticky and hot. It starts to cool and dry immediately in the cold air. Erich’s stomach twists.

“Oh, he won’t die,” The vampire coos, petting through his hair slowly. Their nails scratch at his scalp. “Not today.” Their mouth presses back against his ear. “Thanks for the meal, Erich. And for being so entertaining. Maybe I’ll find you after the war. I’ll buy you a beer… and some schnitzel.”

They push themself away from him, turning away to wipe a bit of blood from the corners of their mouth, and walk with a jaunty step through an opening that appears in the ring of watching prisoners, whose eyes follow them with apprehension and no small amount of fear. 

When Alain comes up to untie him, Erich simply collapses into the Frenchman’s arms as soon as he’s free of the ropes. Lukas is allowed to move up to stand at his other side, putting Erich’s limp left arm around his shoulders, while Alain supports his right. Erich lets his head fall into Lukas’s shoulder, hitching his breath as he forces down a sob. 

“Wh… why do you let them do this?” He asks, his English slurred with the exhaustion that means he is dragged with his boots carving paths through the mud back towards the tent. 

Alain is silent until Erich is dropped onto his cot, the hard frame digging into Erich’s back right through the thin mattress. He glances over his shoulder, the three of them alone in here for the moment, and then looks back. 

“It is believed that this is how we will win,” He says, and pats Erich’s hand. “My apologies. I do not believe in the monsters, but I am not the one to run this war.”

“None of us are,” Erich says, weakly. He closes his eyes. “We are only the ones who must fight in it.”

There’s a pause, and Alain’s exhale is audible in the quiet tent. “I will ensure you are given extra meat rations tonight, and I will find you some schnapps. Essaye de dormir, maintenant, si tu peux,” he says with soft regret lacing his voice. Then there is a shuffle of footsteps, and he’s gone.

Lukas shifts and sits with his back to the cot, in the same position Erich was in before. He swallows, picking up the abandoned cards from the game they’d been playing, looking over Erich’s hand. “You’d have won, you know, on the next hand,” He says in German, before he reaches out to grab the others’ cards and reshuffle the deck.

“Do I still get my… my winnings?” Erich can barely move his lips to speak. He’s so tired. So, so tired. He can feel his hands starting to shake, now that it’s over, the trembling moving slowly up his limbs, stuttering his breathing. 

“My share of the liquor? Not on your life.” Lukas pauses, and then his tone gentles as he looks Erich over again. “You know what... of course you can. You’ll need warmth. What did the bloodsucker say to you, anyway? I couldn’t hear.”

Erich thinks about the promise to find him after the war, about the way they spoke into his ear as if he were little more than a toy top to be spun at their command. In another time, I’d keep you for a pet, they had whispered, before they bit down. 

He shakes his head, slowly. “Lies,” He answers, and feels the softer-edged darkness of sleep begin to take him.

“Lies?” 

“I hope… I hope they were lies.”

For the moment, at least, he is too exhausted by the present to feel terror for the future.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump @thefancydoughnut

[a-friendly-fangirl]

My thoughts on Sex Education, season 3.

⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS⚠️⚠️⚠️

First of all, please try to remember that this is just my opinion. I'm nobody to judge whether the season was good or bad and I don't mean to hurt anyone.

With that being said, I'd like to begin by admitting that I liked these 8 episodes overall... but there were so many things that felt wrong to me.

I loved Jean's journey during her pregnancy and the way she tried to take care of everyone at the same time (although I kind of disliked Jakob for some things he said).

I loved Aimee and her desire to heal after the assault. The way she really wants to make her voice be heard was heartwarming and inspiring to me. Plus, her friendship with Maeve is one of the most beautiful I've ever watched (about this, I'll say something later on).

I loved Viv and her ambition that slowly became less important than her peers and their rights. She really wanted them to be happy in the end. I think that she didn't really understand how bad things with Hope were until the trip to France. And she redeemed herself in a great way.

I loved Lily and her journey towards acceptance of herself, even when others thought she was weird and silly. It was empowering seeing her so confident in the end.

I loved Adam's growth. It taught that even the most simple of passions can turn into something meaningful and that, no matter how bad you are, you can change.

Above all, I loved Maeve finally getting the chance to do something amazing for herself for once.

All of these things were wonderful, truly. But so many others I didn't like and I couldn't really understand as narrative choices.

Let me begin with the one I found the most annoying: Isaac's fake redemption arc. I know what you might say: "Of course you hate it! You ship Maeve and Otis!". Well, yes, I do. But it's not all about that. I might be exaggerating... but Isaac deleting Otis' message was beyond disrespectful to me. If you remember, at the beginning of the second season, Isaac was really mean to Maeve... but he had the opportunity to redeem himself. He had the chance to say he was sorry and to be a better person to her, even though he had been around for so little time. However, when it came to Otis to have the same opportunity, he decided that he wasn't worth it. Isaac, who didn't really know Otis, took away from him the chance to at least say that he was truly sorry for being such an ass to Maeve. But, what feels even worse to me is that he took away even Maeve's possibility to decide. We don't know how it would have gone, if Maeve had listen to what Otis had to say. Maybe she would have forgiven him. Maybe she would have still chosen Isaac, because Otis hurt her too much. Who knows what might have been? No one. And why? Because Isaac decided for everyone. And I don't care if he thought he was protecting Maeve or if he was angry. It. Was. Not. His. Choice. To. Make.

Also, I didn't really understand why Maeve wasn't as mad as I was with him. Sure, she stopped talking to him for a couple of days. But the moment she started to speak with him again, they hooked up. Too fast, too soon, in my opinion. He apologised? Sure. But so did Otis. And he didn't get to be so easily forgiven.

But let's move to the another point I have a lot to say about: Otis and Ruby. I really liked them together. I found them cute and funny. But still... Ruby struggled for real to accept Otis for who he is. And Otis acted the way she wanted to keep her close. For example, he shaved off his moustache for her. Now, most of the fandom hated that moustache... but again, Otis seemed to care a great deal for it. He kept repeating that he spent months growing it. But Ruby didn't like it. And he sacrificed something he was proud of for her. But okay, a lot of people would do something like that for their loved ones. But then he had to dress like her friends to fit in. To be fair, Ruby gave up that idea pretty soon... but she just reacted to Otis refusing to do it. If I had to make a comparison between her and another love interest (not Maeve, 'cause I'd be biased), I'd choose Ola, of course. She was putting pressure on him in other ways, but she never wanted him to be any different than who he was. Love, after all, means acceptance. And perhaps Ruby loved Otis for he saw the hardest part of her life, without judging her. I wish it could have been the same for him.

About this, I've noticed many people being disappointed in Otis not saying he loved her too, because it means that he was just using her. Well... no? I mean, he was the first one to admit that, if she was willing to give him more time, he might have learned to love her. Should he have made it clear to her earlier in the relationship? Sure! Can we condemn him for not feeling the same? Absolutely not! Feelings can't be forced. And I'm also sure that he thought he was done for good with Maeve. He suffocated the love he had for her so much that the clinic made him sick and that he admitted his feelings only when pressured by Maeve herself.

In conclusion, I think that Otis and Ruby might have had a wonderful friendship, if they were only given the chance. They have that kind of chemistry.

Talking about people who are better off as friends: in my opinion, that's all Maeve and Aimee will ever be. I honestly can't see anything romantic in them. The purity of their friendship means so much to me and it's, at least for me, so different from the "Friends who are more than friends" energy. We're so lucky to have such wonderful actresses to play these characters... and what I see in their gestures and glances tells me of a great friendship. They're so different from Emily and Sue in Dickinson (they're supposed to be just friends, but they're clearly not) or even Judy and Jen in Dead To Me (another pair of friends that can be ambiguous with each other).

Moving to another couple, whose development I didn't understand: Adam and Eric. I'm not a great fan of their relationship. I like them both as individuals. But the bully-victim dynamic they used to have wasn't the best one to start a relationship with. I could see the appeal though. So much that, I was truly happy for them, when they said their first I love you's. And every step Adam made in the right direction made me smile, since that it took him a long time to grow up. Eric seemed happy with him too. Until he went to Nigeria. I sincerely loved the whole trip... but something felt wrong in him founding what he truly wanted there, where he couldn't even tell his family he had a boyfriend. The scene in the taxi gave me chills. I felt the risk he was taking by going with a stranger to a gay club. A stranger that he kissed almost out of nowhere (whether it was the heat of the moment or Adam not replying to him, I'm not sure). It's the second time he cheats on his boyfriend. And I think Eric deserves far better as a character.

My question about this whole drama is: "How come Eric found out that he wanted to be free in Nigeria and not in England?". If it's true that going to the club made him realise he wanted to be among people like him, it makes the whole situation even more absurd. Because there are plenty of gay bars and clubs in England. Why not go to one of them? My theory is that they wanted to build a good romance with Adam, then build tension between them and in us and end the whole thing with their breakup (probably to make Adam fall in love with Rahim).

I swear I'm almost done. I want to discuss one last topic with you all.

Maeve going to America like that felt so rushed. It's probably another strategy to make us want to see more of the show. And it surely worked. But still, it has, at least for how they developed it, nothing to do with Maeve maturing. The idea itself was amazing. I loved her getting the opportunity of a lifetime. But she literally decides to go the evening before (which is not even realistic. In real life, you have a deadline until which you can pay to go wherever you want. If you don't, your place is given to someone else), after getting the money from her mother. Now, where does that money come from? She might as well have stolen it, since she didn't have it before. In my opinion, this part of the story could have gone differently with little effort and the same outcome. How? Well, since that basically everyone thought she deserved to go to America, why couldn't have her classmates and teachers organised a fundraiser? Even in secret, so that she couldn't get angry for their "charity". It would have been so much better and so wholesome to see everyone in that school give a little sum for her, even to thank her for the help they got from the clinic.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for talking so much, but this season didn't go as expected and I truly needed to vent :P.

Thank you for listening❤

[lesbiansforboromir]

What's ur take on th amazon prime middle earth show atm? Thoughts, feelings about the new rumours/news?

I was going a little spare about it in my discord server, let me try and tie all these thoughts down for you. Also to be CLEAR... I'm going to pretend that these 'leaks' are things I believe will happen rather than published by TOR ie, dubious at best. Here's a link to the article anon's talking about.

So, first off, the tolkien estate is apparently happy with the production... I have to file this under what will become quite a well populated reaction box 'that sounds good but it makes me nervous also'. I'm very glad Priscilla likes it though, that's still good to know.

Next, Amazon has SOME Silm and unfinished tales rights... This probably worries the silm fandom far more than it worries me, but in terms of the production itself it seems very positive to me. I mean god... how else would they have... made the show... Like they'd have had to rename kings and straight up ignore plot points without it. AND YET I am actually still surprised. I suppose I shouldn't be, there's quite a lot of moving and shaking since Christopher died and I was always pretty sure he was the one keeping it all under lock and key. And considering the Nature of Middle Earth book is coming out now too with rumoured withheld letters and such, it seems the remaining holders are more lenient with the property rights.

There's a hilarious section where the article is like 'hm it might be that the show will span multiple sections of time' and I'm like well... it'll be a fuckin narrow as hell show if it doesn't... I dont think a single narrative ends in less than 100 years. The part about the dwarves, elves and humans having their own separate production units is interesting but I dont think I know enough about how tv making works to know what that says about the show. But what TOR suggests in the article, an anthology of POV's, would be pretty cool and was more in line with what I originally wanted it to look like. Did this make me a LEETLE excited? Maybe, but I can't acknowledge that yet.

The fake production team shooting fake shots is just funny, like you're using the money this way? Please... it wont be so bad if we see leaked images of shooting I promise I swear.

Lenny Henry as a harfoot is like... LIKE... this is definitely very excellent. I'm a little concerned that all the actors of colour will be relegated to just the hobbits, but I'm actually just a little too excited about seeing wandering hobbits and ALSO HAHA! Now @penny-anna has to watch the show >:3

Tom Budge... who WAS celebrimbor... Like.. I have been umming and arring over this, I go from 'god no' to '.. eh? maybe I see your point?' but in general I still feel like there were more dramatic and enigmatic choices that could have been made for casting such a character. However celebrimbor should have a moustache I think, so, maybe. Still not psyched about this vision of Celebrimbor as far as casting goes.

this is just straight up terrifying. Although it's still funny to me how the entire tolkien mega community saw JRRT say 'actually I was wrong the first time, orcs aren't elves they're corrupted early humans' and they all replied with the [I respect the council has made a decision nick fury.meme] But no seriously... what the fuck, go back to the sex having.

It's absolutely gruelling to me that the major elf debate we're at is 'can elves have short hair', like ok... I do want elves with short hair but that is not the major elf portrayal issue I want discussed here boys. When I say 'can elves be not-white' I want you to say 'yes, here they are'. Still, I do want to see elves with short hair.

And finally absolutely DELIGHTED to know I wont have to suffer Annatar in season 1. I get respite before the angbang bloggers descend on the tags.

IN GENERAL (still pretending I believe all these leaks, which I don't) This is all... encouraging... some of it's worrying and I'm jumpy about it but I would.. I would like an anthology... with a raft of perspectives, timelines and plots... this is what I was wanting when they talked about 'rivalling game of thrones' so... now we gotta wait for mid-2022 I guess... God I think Alecto the Ninth is coming out then too, I'm so beset.

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 15: DR. EGGMAN

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a mini-series of mine, in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, it’s finally time for him. The bad doctor himself. Gather round ladies and gentleman, for the spotlight is on the arch-villain that shines above them all... Dr. Eggman.

The Gist: It's the dawn of the 90's. A little company called SEGA had an ephiphany. They wanted to make a video game juggernaut that could rival the quality and iconic appeal of the then-unmatched Super Mario Bros, and their current star, Alex Kidd, just wasn't doing it in the way that they hoped. They promptly set about starting anew, as a worldwide phenomenon wasn't going to make itself.

So a gentleman named Naoto Ohshima created a selection of design concepts for this brand new mascot. One of these concepts was President Roosevelt in his pajamas.

Seen here with his catgirl body pillow.

The response to this character was “This is good, but we think kids would prefer kicking the shit out of him”, and so he was given an antagonistic role instead. In the meantime, after juggling the rest of their ideas, they eventually settled on a rabbit hedgehog named Sonic for their main protagonist, knowing his Mickey Mouse-like aesthetic would help endear him to the audience, and the franchise as a whole would have an easier time gaining a DeviantART fanbase later on down the line.

Initially, the character of today's review was but a mere lackey among many, seemingly little more than one of numerous minions working for Sonic's originally intended main villain, the Nonspecific Goblin. He was also dressed as a bee for some reason.

Which is the least weirdest thing in this image.

At some point however, they all got together and decided that actually, the guy with the moustache was the only one worth shit, and so he was upgraded to the role of main villain himself. With a spiffy new attire of red and black, he was given the bold title of Dr. Eggman, because with a shape like that, what else are you gonna call him?

“Funny you should say that”, laughed SEGA of America, as they rebelled like an angsty teen and named him Dr. Ivo Robotnik instead. While this name does make equal sense for the character, as he is indeed a hard worker who also happens to like robots, the reason for this name's existence seems to have been mainly because they thought Eggman was too out there of a name for an egg-like man. Whatever the case, this would confuse a lot of fans for years, and remains a point of divisiveness to this day... Unless you're like me and your first game in the series was Advance 2, in which the manual clears it up right away, and you accept the idea of a character having two names and immediately carry on with your life.

He would have aimed it perfectly if it weren't for the Sonic Heroes Parrot distracting him.

And that was that, really. It didn't take long for them to come up with his characterization, which was that of a cackling fiend with an ego to end all egos. This guy was the Narcissist Alpha, more king than actual kings, no strings attached. Other villains would build statues of themselves, but only Robotnik would deface Ancient Egyptian monuments to improve them with his face. Other villains would think “Nah, refacing all four in Rushmore would look silly”, but only the Eggman, the Eggmyth, the Egglegend, would go “Well fuck you, I'm doing it anyway.” Then he'd do it anyway, and proceed to address to the entire world that he did in fact do it anyway.

It also didn't take long for them to develop his primary schtick. With the dynamic of Sonic VS Eggman, you had a classic rivalry between nature and technology. Interestingly enough however, this turned out to be executed more tactfully than your typical Amish-abiding examples in similar media. Never was technology itself regarded as a corruptive influence that you should never utilise no matter what. Rather, it was only as good or as evil as the person using it, with it just so happening that the villain loved machinery only slightly less than he loved himself, and it was countered by Sonic’s best friend being a techno wiz in his own right anyway. Anyhow, with his machinery, the doctor would make a name for himself among video game baddies by confronting his enemy as the boss of nearly every zone in each game, rather than hide away until the endgame.

And all without a driver's licence.

In his soon-to-be-30 years of activity, he has largely remained the same since his inception. Other characters have been introduced, other villains have came and went, but Eggman has remained THE villain of the franchise, and he's remained a vital part of the Sonic the Hedgehog universe... with a slight redesign along the way.

The only ad I don't want to skip.

The Design: Eggman's design may be more simplistic than the likes of Bowser and Ganondorf, and he may not look as openly threatening at first glance, but it's still a very iconic look no matter what look it is. His original appearance was devised so that kids could have an easy time drawing him, which only makes me feel worse about not being able to do it as a grown adult without it looking like a Sexy Legs Kirby.

Still, it's a classic for a reason. With his to-the-point colour scheme, contrasting heavily with Sonic's blue, and his capelet collar resembling walrus tusks, it was an instant winner and made everyone goo goo for g'joob.

The Emeralds he’s juggling are a metaphor for the divided fan community.

And when it was time to give the cast an update for Sonic's first real 3D adventure (or at least the first one that didn't get axed for being a magic eye seizure), Eggman got a respectable change of his own. He was taller, his getup was militaristic, and his body was more legitimately egg-shaped rather than basketball-shaped. He also gained a pair of goggles that he never uses, except in scenes where he puts them on and then never uses them.

“How do my chicken legs not collapse under the might of my gluttonous mass? Find out in an unrelated tie-in novel that you have to pay additional money for.”

There was also that one redesign from 2006, but...

Be it Classic or Modern, I've always loved his design. Before he even says a word or does anything, you know from his appearance that he's a bit of a clownish sort. But he also has a subtle creepy vibe going on, with the way his glasses often obscure his eyes, and how this only makes the pearly-white, unnecessarily wide grin on his face that much more empty and unsettling. This little bit of eeriness hiding among his cartoonish physique reflects the full extent of his character pretty accurately, as we’ll delve into soon enough.

If nothing else, it's more effective than him having no eyes at all.

GRRRRRRRR FUCK YOU BUNNIES THAT I CAN'T SEE

The Personality: If you've seen my villain reviews, then you'll have gathered that Sonic's rogues aren't known for having much in the way of personality. There are exceptions, but they are indeed the exceptions. More often than not though, whether it's an alien conquerer, an ancient monster, or Dan Green the Recolour, they can be summed up thusly: They're evil, they want to destroy the world, and the heroes stop them because they're evil and want to destroy the world. If they're feeling particularly daring, they might go for a second colour.

Luckily, as if to counter all these cardboard drawings, the central adversary of the franchise makes up for these voids of personality by actually having one. And what a personality it is.

The writers of SatAM looked at this and thought “No, this won't do, there's no character to work with here.”

He really is brimming with comedic charm. Every moment that he's present...

Every moment that he shows off...

Every moment that he basks in his own glory...

Every moment that he unveils a new wicked scheme...

Every moment that he puts his enemies to the test...

Every moment that he challenges the world...

Every moment that he laughs at the world...

Every moment that he lives, nay, every moment that he breathes...

Yes, the man has plenty of humor, and it's part of what makes him so enjoyable and memorable. However, if you think being a clown is all there is to him, then prepare to have your expectations subverted initial assumptions taken in a unexpected direction, because although he puts the goof in goofy, he ALSO puts the “oh...?” in “oh shit”.

For you see, Eggman is by all means the epitome of Laughably Evil, but do not, under any circumstance, take him at face value and write him off as a joke. He is anything but.

For starters, he can swing a planet.

There is a rule of thumb that I personally go by with Eggman’s characterization, one that I believe is an immediate make or break factor in regards to whether or not you understand what makes this villain work. Eggman - when you put all his secondary traits aside - is made up of two prominent halves. There’s the egocentric meme machine that bounces up and down like a kid with his N64 and laughs like Santa... and there’s the monster buried within that remains completely and utterly unrepentant for everything he’s responsible for. This is very important. Despite the character’s simplicity at his core, many writers have failed to grasp this, official writers included, and I for the life of me cannot understand why this is such a recurring problem. Eggman is funny, AND Eggman is evil. Both are equal. When you take away one or the other, you may have a funny character, or you may have an evil character, but you don’t have Eggman. Simple as.

Armchair intellectuals may argue that Eggman’s deeds aren’t that evil, since he tends to be merely callous rather than actively trying to hurt or kill people. Those people are probably the types on TV Tropes who weigh a villain’s evilness and effectiveness purely through the surface-level scale of their goals rather than what they actually do to achieve them. While it is true that Eggman tends to be more apathetic about the aftermath of his actions, that doesn’t - and shouldn’t - negate how dangerous he is. It shouldn’t negate what he’s capable of. It shouldn’t negate how far he’s willing to go. And it shouldn’t negate the consequences and casualties that can and do result from his many schemes.

Seriously, think about this for a second. If you confronted Eggman about his current plan to... I dunno, make a water park in Africa or some shit, and you informed him that there has been unexpected mass suffering as a result of this, how do you think he would truly feel about that? What do you think he would actually say to that?

Spoiler: No fucks.

If anything, that he “merely” doesn’t care either way as long as he gets what he wants is more uniquely horrific and deplorable than if he were a generic baddie who committed his evulz specifically for evulz’s own sake and nothing more. At least you’re inadvertently acknowledging that other people’s lives have value when you act one-dimensionally gleeful over ending them, but when your immediate response to the side-effect of a million potential deaths and environmental disasters is “Oh well, fuck ‘em, Eggmanland time baybeeee”, that’s a new level of cruelty.

Besides, even in the Genesis era, he was carpet bombing Angel Island...

“Good thing I have this shield. Sucks to be this forest!”

And he’s only gotten worse since then, indulging in such acts as going full suicide bomber with a missile, after his initial plot to destroy and rebuild Station Square through the means of Chaos and the Egg Carrier didn’t work out...

But don’t worry, he kept it lighthearted by making it look like a penis.

Making one of Sonic’s friends go insane with power against their will, forcing the Blue Blur to put them down personally...

It’s ironic, cause he’s metal. Or do I have to awkwardly explain the joke two more times before I’m a proper YouTuber?

Capturing thousands of innocent aliens, and forcefully converting them into mindless beasts...

I’m pretty sure I saw Alfred Molina conduct this experiment one time.

He even removed the heroes’ collective IQs so that he could shoehorn a cliffhanger on an already terrible game.

Thanks, cunt.

And honestly? When it comes to Sonic and chums at least, Eggman does let out a more openly sadistic side now and then. Need I mention that time when the doctor forced Sonic and two random buddies to make their way through a trap-infested island of his own creation? Not for the sake of nabbing Chaos Emeralds or anything of the sort mind you, he just wanted the blue motor mouth to suffer.

Images you can hear.

To make matters even worse, as befitting of his manchild tendencies, he’s ridiculously petty. How petty? Petty enough to abduct a little girl’s mother for no other reason than because Cheese completely trivialized his forces the girl was friends with Sonic and helped participate in the latest kicking of his own ass.

He only picked Vanilla because there was no Strawberry.

But at least his captives can admire the sheer variety that their captor has to offer. One of the greatest things about the doctor's style is that anything goes. With all due respect to Bowser, he tends to stick with his fiery castles (although he has been branching out recently), and plenty of other villains in gaming tend to be similarly stuck in their ways when it comes to tastes. Eggman, on the other hand, will create all sorts of fortresses and reside anywhere on the planet and beyond. It can be in the sky, in space, somewhere hot, somewhere cold, under the sea, in a circus... and every now and then, he might combine some of them together and thensome. So long as it's even vaguely mechanical in some way, his ground rules have already been ticked off.

Hang on a minute...

You know what else Eggman is? Relentless.

Persistence is a quality that most villains by their very nature share, lest they cease to be an effective antagonist. But once again, Rrrrrrrobotnik maxes out more than any other, and will often go to insane lengths to keep the current plan going, or if not that, then to spite Sonic.

Exhibit A: Sonic 3 & Knuckles, in which the grand finale consists of the madman throwing a gravity-shifting contraption your way, busting out a Kaiju-sized robo, escaping with the Master Emerald after his defeat, continuing to escape even after the Death Egg has been thoroughly destroyed, getting chased through the asteroid fields in space by Super Sonic, and only finally going down when the escape craft and the piloted mech controlling the escape craft are down. And all of this came after a grand adventure where, among other things, he destroyed an entire level just to kill you.

There are immortal omnipotents that put up less of a challenge.

“Looks like it’s time for Plan... *checks paper*... F.”

His relentlessness also reveals another side of the doctor that is simultaneously admirable and terrifying: He bows to no one. No one. Doesn’t matter who it is. Doesn’t matter how powerful they are. Doesn’t matter how much the odds are stacked against him. If another villain were to demand that he cower before them, the scientist would laugh and show through physical demonstration that this is not the way the egg rolls. Unless he’s absolutely unable to do so, he will give it his all every time, and even if he can’t, he’ll use his crafty mind to find some other way to get around the issue. You can beat him in battle, you can foil his plans, but you absolutely cannot break his resolve.

“Dad said it’s my turn to play with the Ruby. I know this, because I’m your dad.”

What about his relationship with those who actually serve him? Specifically, his own robots? Well for the most part, he treats them like absolute crap, what with verbally abusing them at every corner and being all too willing to go full Vader on them the moment they mess up. He IS capable of expressing fondness and giving praise to his more successful creations, like with Metal Sonic and Gamma, but even then, it’s a roundabout way of praising himself, since he’s the one who made them what they are. So basically, you’re only valuable to him if you make him look good.

Gaming in the Clinton Years in a nutshell.

And as for Sonic? Yeah, like with any legendary and long-lasting hero/villain dynamic, it’s obvious that Eggman has some degree of begrudging respect for his opponent. But if you think this respect would dissuade him from actually going through with his ambitions of rulership...

As the hedgehog’s apparent demise in Sonic Adventure 2 proves, as well as his defeat at the hands of Infinite and the subsequent six months of brutal conquest in Sonic Forces, Eggman is dead serious about his goals. If you think he’d get bored after conquering the world, he would simply expand his resources and have a crack at conquering the rest of the universe. When he says he hates that hedgehog, I’m inclined to believe that he means it, and although he may enjoy his “games” with Sonic to an extent, I also can’t see him wanting to remain stuck on square one forever.

If this were Sonic X, he’d just grieve.

By the way, the scene above? Undeniable proof that for all the doctor’s boasting, he’s not actually lying or exaggerating when he prides himself on his brilliance. Because when you get past his goofy exterior, when you look beyond the occasional, relatively minor mistake (*glares at IDW*), you’ll see that... yes. He IS brilliant. And not just in the science department either, although his countless robots and strongholds over the years are no doubt a testament to his credentials there. While he may prefer to go in big and bold, he can also be shrewd with his strategies when he wants to be.

Sonic’s aforementioned near-death experience, for example, was the result of Eggman turning the heroes’ own cunning plan on its head by being one step ahead of them. And in Sonic Unleashed, he lured his enemy into a trap, culminating with him cancelling out Super Sonic.

“...and pay the price for your Werehog gameplay...”

And after all those years of struggling, he finally got a giant monster under his complete control. “But he had help!”, you say? Yeah, from himself.

Did Flynn sleep through all this...?

Much like his inner nature as an evil bastard, Eggman's effectiveness is likewise commonly underestimated by writers. Yes, he occasionally makes mistakes. Yes, he occasionally overlooks details. Yes, he occasionally lacks foresight. But he is NOT stupid. A hero is only as good as their villain after all, and if Eggman is portrayed as a bumbling fool, then how can Sonic be a truly great hero? Eggman is humorous, sinister, and when the chips are down, competent.

...Did I mention that he's also a master Olympian?

The Execution: There's no surprises here. You knew from the moment you saw this review that my stance wasn't going to be anything less than 100% fanboy adoration. In that respect, this section almost feels redundant, because there's only so many ways I can say “Dr. Eggman is the fucking shit and I'm eternally grateful to Mr. Ohshima for bringing this absolute masterpiece into our world” without it getting repetitive. So to cap this review off, I'm going to very briefly compare his portrayals in other media, and explain why they tend to not be as good as the original SEGA Eggman.

“Cause they’re not balanced, right?” you ask. “Cause they veer too far in a particular direction? You're so predictable,” you add. To that I say:

1. Yeah, basically.

2. ...S-Shut up...

3. While the conclusion may be obvious, it's nonetheless important because as I mentioned previously, despite how straightforward this villain is, writers seem absolutely intent on not getting the point. There are loads of villains out there who share Eggman's talent of mixing hilarity and evil together with a bow of competence on top. Two of those villains are among the most famous supervillains of all time, in fact. You might have heard of them.

Joker can do it just fine. Green Goblin can do it just fine. And plenty of others can do it just fine. So why is it such an issue with Eggman? What is it about a round body and a long moustache that gets people to think “No, this guy is absolutely incapable of being comedic and threatening at the same time, no question, end of.” Is it because he’s a more cartoony franchise? Well, that can't be the case, because even Mario has a couple of beloved examples. Fawful, anyone? How about Dimentio? Cackletta? King Boo? K. Rool? Hell, you could even count Bowser himself depending on the portrayal.

Anyway, the point is, writers tend to miss the mark for one reason or another. With Sonic X for example, he wasn't too bad in the beginning, but as the show went on, he became exactly the toothless non-villain that many people misjudge him as. We all know that scene where he berates Black Narcissus for harming their captives (not for pragmatic reasons mind you, he genuinely took issue with the act on moral grounds, even though his own hands weren’t exactly clean either), but even before that point, he was doing such things as healing an injured Sonic without an ulterior motive, not taking any opportunity whatsoever to start conquering Sonic's world because he was pining for Sonic's attention, and being the Jiminy Cricket to Chris Thorndyke's Pinocchio. Why they thought the goddamn villain should be the moral conscience of this show remains an unanswered question, but at least it no longer influences how he's portrayed in the games.

Then you have the IDW comic, which is a similar tale of starting off decent and then careening wildly into the abyss, but for different reasons. Initially, he was built up to be in-line with his competent, foresight-packed self from Forces, with his inevitable return being met with dread, and a delightfully devilish scheme to match when he finally did so. But somewhere along the way, Ian Flynn thought that Eggman coming back from his amnesiac period and returning stronger than ever with a new minion and a deadly virus wasn't enough to up the stakes... so they decided to “up the stakes” by turning both the doctor and his new minion into massive imbeciles so as to justify their plot getting hijacked by the Deadly Six, a move so predictable yet infuriating that it got even me to turn against the Six. And the reason the Six got invited in-universe is because Starline decided he didn’t like being unique and devolved into Snively 2.0 behind Eggman’s back. All this from the alleged “best writer” for the series...

Yeah, same.

And then you have the Boom version, which shares basically the same issues as Sonic X but in a more mundane fashion. It's easier to dismiss because it's a comedy-centric show and his redesign makes it easier to separate him from mainline Eggman, and I'll gladly admit that he does have a lot of genuinely funny lines that redeem him a little bit. But yeah, too much of not being a true villain for my tastes.

Now this isn't to say that there haven't been portrayals in other media that are up there with the original. The versions that I consider better off than the ones above include...

- The OVA Eggman is pretty faithful all things considered, aside from his romantic feelings for Sara, which feels slightly off since the idea of Eggman loving anyone other than himself is incredibly unrealistic at best. But it doesn't actually soften or undermine his deviousness, so I'm willing to let it slide for an alternate take. Especially since he gave us the best Metal Sonic out there.

- AoStH is far from a perfect show, but there's a reason why even its detractors tend to treat its version of Robotnik like a national treasure. Admittedly most of that is because of the legendary Long John Baldry and the endless memes associated with this incarnation, but despite hailing from a comedy-focused show like Boom Eggman, this Robotnik still had a lot of legitimately dangerous moments, more than you'd think.

- And of course, Jim Carrey's Robotnik in the Sonic movie is just... *chef's kiss*

So obvious aesop though it may be, but you see what the more effective portrayals have in common, I assume?

Granted, this also isn't to say that SEGA Eggman himself has had a perfect track record. The decade's worth of upstagings and backstabbings by other villains should be enough of a counterpoint to that claim, and I've also made it clear now and then that I take issue with certain games regarding what they do with the doc, no matter how revered they may be by other fans. Sonic Adventure 2, for instance. I praised the fake emerald scene, and I do sincerely believe that he has a number of other badass moments in that game, but because Shadow was playing him like a fool the whole time, I can't help but have a bitter taste in my mouth when I look at the bigger picture.

So close to greatness, yet so far...

So in that case, which game do I think has Eggman's best showing overall? That's not in any way an easy question, but lack of dialogue aside, I'm gonna go with Sonic 3 & Knuckles again, as the classic journey through the sights of Angel Island plays out in a way that highlights just how determined, ruthless, and underhanded he is with carrying out his mission to revive the Death Egg by any means necessary. Other games do win out in other areas - SA1 for how bastardly he is, Forces for how cunning he is, Colours for his hilarious announcements, CD for using the scenery to show the effects of his actions, Mania for not letting the other villain walk all over him - but for the purest essence of the doctor at his cartoony yet competent best, I'd say S3&K is a reasonable bet.

And when it comes to all his many traits, which one do I find the most special one of all? Well again, far from easy to answer, but I think the coolest aspect about him is also one of the most overlooked. Robotnik, despite whatever superhuman qualities he may occasionally unveil, is for all intents and purposes a regular guy with a big brain. This might make him appear unimpressive when compared to your average Final Fantasy villain and the like, but if anything, it paints him in a more flattering light than expected, because he doesn't even need to be on their level to still be on the radar. It's easy to be a big bad threat when you're an ancient demon or an almighty god-like being, and you only have to wave a hand to cause armageddon. But when you're just Some Guy™ going up against superpowered opponents, meaning you have to earn your threat level the hard way, and you prove to be a challenge every step of the way regardless, because you're just THAT much of a genius... that's fucking awesome, no other way to put it.

And you know what else is awesome? You may not like Eggman, and you don’t have to like him, but like it or not, he is directly and indirectly responsible for a vast majority of the coolest and most loved moments and aspects of this franchise.

The opening to Unleashed? Eggman set up the scene.

Shadow running around and continuing to be part of the franchise? Eggman released him.

Blaze getting involved with Sonic’s world and continuing to be part of the franchise? Eggman’s half-responsible for that.

Metal Sonic? Eggman made him.

Egg Dragoon? Eggman.

Big Arm? Eggman.

Monkey Dude? Eggman.

That text is missing a blue checkmark.

This review is probably longer than the echidna family tree in Archie at this point, so I better finish it off. If it wasn't obvious from all the paragraphs I've belted out in this post, I'm very passionate about Eggman and the way he’s portrayed. Ever since I got into the Sonic franchise in 2003, I immediately took a liking to the doctor, and to this day, he remains not only my favourite Sonic villain, my favourite Sonic character, but also my favourite character period. Some may find it a weird or lame choice compared to other, “better” characters, but that's the way it is, and I ain't about to change it. I am very unlikely to ever stop enjoying the hell out of this villain, and even if he got irreversibly ruined in some way, I'd still continue to love what he was before that point.

Because yeah, he's not the deepest character ever, but... who cares? Is it not enough that we find something that appeals to us? When I got into Sonic, I was introduced to fantastic games, a likable cast, high quality soundtracks, beautiful worlds, numerous friends on this very site, and of course, the lovely treasure that is my partner. I may not have been with this franchise during the 90's, but it's given me just as much fun, nostalgia, and happiness as those who were. Despite the flawed titles, despite the fandom conundrums, I still love this series.

And I still love this absolute prick.

Crusher Gives Dr. Eggman a: TWO Thumbs Up!

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch. 9

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Willy shows his guests the Inventing Room. And Violet’s gum chewing comes back to bite her in the butt.

A/N: This is where it starts getting really fluffy between Rose and Willy.

Tagging: @holdmeicant​ @willymywonkers​

Willy got out of the boat first so he could usher everyone out of it. Rose was the last one to step off, and being the clumsy girl she was, she managed to trip over her feet. Luckily, she was caught by a pair of arms.

"It's alright, starshine" Willy whispered to Rose.  "I've got you"

"Thanks" She muttered softly to him, looking up at the face of her saviour. Her heart began to beat faster when she realized how close their faces were. The tips of their noses were touching.

It felt like it was only them in their own little world until the sound of someone clearing their throat reeled them back into reality. Rose and Willy turned their heads to see everyone staring weirdly at them. Well, everyone except for Charlie who had a wide grin on his face.

The two lovebirds stepped away from each other. Rose walked over to Charlie. She could feel a set of eyes glaring into the back of her head. She turned her head to see Mrs Beauregarde's eyes flared with jealousy. Rose just decided to ignore the woman for now. The door to the Inventing Room opened, and Willy led everyone inside.

Rose's eyes lit up in fascination when she saw all the machines and flasks, the smoke and colourful liquids. "Now this is the most important room in the entire factory!" Willy explained and then he cautioned. "Now, everyone enjoy yourselves, but just don't touch anything. Okay? Go on!"

Every child was quick to run off, except for Charlie. He looked up at Rose, and she gave him a nod with a smile. Charlie then walked off. He was definitely the most behaved child here, well, the only behaved child. Rose went off to do some exploring of her own. She felt the presence of someone come to stand next to her. She turned her head to see Willy.

"Does anything in particular catch your eye?" He asked her curiously, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers.

"It's hard to say" Rose said, smiling up at him. "Everything here is so fascinating" A smile danced across Willy's lips. He was glad the girl was enjoying herself. He looked down to see that their hands were nearly touching. Rose didn't seem to notice yet though. He was about to make a bold move, and lace their fingers together, but the moment was ruined.

"Hey, Mr Wonka! What's this?" Violet called loudly from a pool with windows which she and Mike were looking at. Oompa-Loompas were swimming inside it.

Willy pursed his lips in annoyance, glancing in the child's direction. He just wanted one uninterrupted moment with Rose. "Oh! Let me show you!" Willy's annoyance was replaced with excitement when he saw what Violet and Mike were standing by. He walked over, and an Oompa-Loompa emerged from the water. He handed Willy a red ball. "Thank you!" He said the Oompa-Loompa. Everyone gathered around Willy to hear what he had to say. "These are Everlasting Gobstoppers. They're for children who are given very little allowance money. You can suck on it all year, and it'll never get any smaller. Isn't that neat?"

"It's like gum" Violet compared.

"No" Willy disagreed. "Gum is for chewing. And if you tried chewing one of these Gobstoppers, you'd break all your little teeth off" He admired the piece of candy wearing a proud smile. "They sure do taste terrific"

He walked off to the next machine and everybody followed after him. "And this is Hair Toffee" He picked up a piece of candy that looked similar to chewy caramel. "You suck down one of these little boogers, and in exactly half an hour, a brand new crop of hair will start growing out all over the top of your little noggin. And a moustache. And a beard"

"Who wants a beard?" Mike asked, clearly not impressed.

"Well," Willy paused a moment as he thought of an answer. "Beatniks for one. Folk singers and motorbike riders. You know, all those hip, jazzy, super cool, neat, keen, and groovy cats. It's in the fridge daddy-o. Are you hep to the jive? Can you dig what I'm laying down? I knew that you could. Slide me some skin, soul brother!" Willy stretched his hand out to Mike, waiting for the boy to give him five. Mike didn't, he just glanced weirdly at the man. Willy pulled his hand back when he realized Mike wasn't going to do anything.

"Unfortunately, the mixture isn't quite right yet because an Oompa-Loompa tried some yesterday, and well, he...." As if on cue, an Oompa-Loompa resembling Cousin Itt walked over. He had hair all over, it was a wonder he could even see where he was going. "How are you today?" Willy asked the Oompa-Loompa. It held up two thumbs. "You look great!"

Then finally, Willy led everyone over to a machine where an Oompa-Loompa had dumped various foods into it. "Watch this!" Willy said excitedly and then pulled on a lever.

The machine whirred and buzzed, bubbled and smoked, until it was finished and dispensed the finishing product. A stick of gum. Violet took it and examined it.

"You mean that's it?" Mike said, unimpressed yet again.

"Do you even know what it is?" Willy mocked Mike's tone.

"It's gum" Violet stated.

"Yeah! It's a stick of the most amazing and sensational gum in the whole universe! Know why? Know why?"

Rose could tell how excited Willy was about the gum so she decided to play along with him. "Why is it the most amazing and sensational gum?" She asked, tilting her head curiously.

"This gum is a full three course dinner all by itself!"

"Why would anyone want that?" Mr Salt asked.

Willy reached into his coat pockets and grabbed the flash cards. He flipped through them until he found the right one, and began to read from it. "It'll be the end of all kitchens and all cooking. Just a little strip of Wonka's magic chewing gum and that is all you will ever need at breakfast, lunch and dinner. This piece of gum happens to be tomato soup, roast beef and blueberry pie"

"It sounds great!" Rose said.

"It sounds weird" Veruca judged.

"It sounds like my kind of gum" Violet decided. She took out the piece of gum she was currently chewing, and stuck it behind her ear. Rose cringed at the little blonde girl. That was utterly disgusting, and she was surprised that Violet didn't get the stuff stuck in her hair.

"I'd rather you didn't" Willy warned. "There's still one or two things that are—"

Violet interrupted him. "I'm the world record holder in chewing gum. I'm not afraid of anything!" She shoved the fresh stick of gum in her mouth, all while Mrs Beauregarde was smiling pridefully at her daughter.

Violet began chewing and Mrs Beauregarde asked her, "How is it, honey?"

"It's amazing! Tomato soup! I can feel it running down my throat!"

"Yeah!" Willy nodded and smiled nervously. "Spit it out!"

Rose even tried getting Violet to stop. "Young lady, I think you'd better—"

She was rudely interrupted by Violet as the gum changed tastes. "It's changing! Roast beef with baked potato! Crispy skin and butter!"

"Keep chewing, kiddo!" Mrs Beauregarde encouraged her daughter. Rose rolled her eyes. She was just as bad as her daughter. "My little girls gonna be the first person in the world to have a chewing gum meal!"

"Yeah," Willy said, still feeling anxious. "I'm just a little concerned about the—"

"Blueberry pie and ice cream!" Violet said.

"That part"

Veruca noticed something odd. "What's happening to her nose?" Everyone looked at Violet to see what Veruca was talking about. A little speck of blue appeared on the tip of Violet's nose and very quickly began to spread.

"It's turning blue!" Mr Salt exclaimed.

Violet looked up at her mother. "Your whole nose has gone purple!" Mrs Beauregarde said.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked as she touched her nose.

"Violet, you're turning violet!" Violet's eyes widened in fright as she looked at Willy. Mrs Beauregarde looked at him as well and asked, "What's happening?"

"Well, I told you I hadn't quite got it right 'cause it goes a little funny when it gets to the dessert" Willy explained. "It's the blueberry pie that does it. I'm terribly sorry" He ducked down and hid behind the machine.

Violet's whole face had gone blue, and now her hands and hair were turning blue as well. The colour change was even affecting her clothes. "Mother, what's happening to me?" Violet asked, feeling horrified as she looked at her hand. Everyone backed away from her. If the colour change wasn't bad enough, Violet also started to engorge.

"She's swelling up!" Rose noted.

"Like a blueberry!" Charlie added.

Once Violet was completely blown up, Willy appeared from behind Mrs Beauregarde. He spooked her as he told her. "I've tried it on like twenty Oompa-Loompas, and each one ended up as a blueberry. It's just weird!"

"But I can't have a blueberry as a daughter!" Mrs Beauregarde shook her head at him. "How is she supposed to compete?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" Rose asked the woman, completely appalled. "Honestly, your daughter is blue and as a big as a hot air balloon, and the thing you're worried about is competitions? Maybe if you had been a better parent, then--"

"Don't you tell me how to parent my child!" Mrs Beauregarde snapped at Rose. Rose flinched a her tone, but she decided against arguing with her any further.

"You could put her in a county fair!" Veruca chirped, a little too happy about the situation.

Suddenly, the machines in the room began making a rhythm. Rose knew that the Oompa-Loompas were going to start singing again, and she was excited to hear them. Some Oompa-Loompas emerged from the smoke and they began to sing. Willy started dancing to the song, and Rose couldn't help but dance too.

Listen close, and listen hard,

The tale of Violet Beauregarde

This dreadful girl she sees no wrong

Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing all day long

Chewing, chewing all day long.chewing,

Chewing all day long.

Chewing, chewing all day long.

She goes on chewing till at last

Her chewing muscles go so fast.

And from her face her giant chin

Sticks out just like a violin

Chewing, chewing all day long. chewing,

Chewing all day long.

Chewing, chewing all day long

For years and years she chews away

Her jaw gets stronger every day.

And with one great tremendous chew

They bite the poor girls tongue in two

And that is why we try so hard

To save miss Violet Beauregarde

Chewing, chewing all day long chewing,

Chewing all day long

Chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing all day long

As the song ended, Willy kept dancing, and an angry Mrs Beauregarde approached him. The look she had on her face was one of pure anger. When he noticed Mrs Beauregarde, he stopped dancing and looked at the Oompa-Loompa that approached. "I want you to roll Miss Beauregarde into the boat and take her along to the Juicing Room at once, okay?"

The Oompa-Loompa crossed its arms over its chest. "The Juicing Room?" Mrs Beauregarde repeated. "What are they gonna do to her there?"

"They're gonna squeeze her!" Willy answered with a wild grin. "Like a little pimple!" Mrs Beauregarde's eyes widened and her mouth opened in horror. "We gotta squeeze all that juice out of her immediately"

Without another word, Mrs Beauregarde ran over to help the Oompa-Loompas push Violet out of the room. Willy faced everyone. "Come on, let's boogie!" He beckoned. Everyone began moving along, but Rose was stopped when she felt Willy gently grab her arm. She looked at him to see him smiling wildly at her. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands!"

"Okay" She said. Rose closed her eyes, cupped her hands together and held them out. She could feel something being dropped in her hand. Her hands closed together around whatever had been put in her palms. Then she could feel a pair of hands wrap around her own. Her hands were being guided until she felt something soft brush against the back of one of her hands.

That's when she opened her eyes to see Willy pressing a gentle kiss to her hand. Rose's lips parted slightly, and her eyes locked with his. The two of them shared an intense stare. Willy released her hands and he smirked at her. "Come along, starshine"

Willy walked off. That's when Rose looked down at her hands to see what he had given her. It was the Everlasting Gobstopper. She grinned at the candy and started walking again.

[the-friday-knight]

Fuck it

Ben 10 OC Time

Name: Jake Mars

Age: 17 (During OS)

Species: Human

Nationality: American

Eye Colour: Bright Blue

Hair Colour: Brown Black

Appearance: Jake wears a red and black hoodie as his common attire, under which he has a range of different t-shirts with various logos or statements on them, usually related to mechanics or rock music in some way. He wears thick blue jeans and brown steel toed boots. His version of the Omnitrix is on his left wrist. It is nearly an exact replica of the Omnitrix designed by Azmuth, but it won’t stay that way for long.

Personality: Jake is kind. Whenever he comes across an Alien, or some situation that seems odd, he gives the Alien the benefit of the doubt first, for all he knows they could just be scared being on a different world. Of course this isn’t always the case and has landed Jake in a few close calls that he quickly had to get his way out of. Jake is also well versed in mechanical engineering, owning a dark red Plymouth Superbird that he uses to travel the country. Jake decided to leave his home after acquiring the Omnitrix, at the start of the Summer after he had just received his drivers license. This is because he discovered that his Omnitrix was not the only one out there, though he still is not sure who has the others. He left because he wanted to find others with a device like his, and maybe they could work together and help each other figure out the strange Alien watch. He likes to consider himself mature, though that isn’t to say he isn’t reckless at times when it comes to people in danger our people he cares about getting hurt.

Likes: Driving, cars, finding and taking apart Alien tech, rock music, country music, apple pie, black coffee, meeting new people/Aliens.

Dislikes: Prisons, discrimination, Dean, people who question his mechanical knowledge.

Flaws: Jake feels like he has something to prove. This is shown most obviously when he is fighting against an Alien that he is also able to transform into. Even if there is an Alien he has that would be better suited to the fight, he will often transform into the same Alien in an attempt to prove that he can beat them at his own game. He also has a bad habit of antagonising those he is fighting against, to the point where it seems less like hero-villain banter and more just straight up arguing or insulting them.

Strengths: His mechanical knowledge helps him in his fights surprisingly often, especially when going against certain robotic drones that might be out to get him. He is usually quite adaptable to his transformations, and situations where he isn’t the Alien that would be best suited. He has a friendly aura about him, making him easily able to hold a conversation or befriend others, even if they are of a different species.

Jake’s Omnitrix: Jake’s Omnitrix is similar to the one built by Azmuth, however there is one key difference. It’s AI.

Omni: Omni is the AI within Jake’s Omnitrix. She has the appearance of an human female with twin green ponytails, a strange black and green shirt and skirt combo and bright green eyes. When she first met Jake, she requested him to call her Omni-chan. Jake promptly refused. Despite the term AI, Omni was actually a member of a once powerful and prosperous race, who transferred her entire mind into a satellite before her races downfall. She remained in that satellite for an unknown amount of time in deep space, but somehow was able to pick up earth transmissions of a form of entertainment called ‘Anime’. Hence her appearance and name choice. While out there, she also discovered encrypted messages of a design for a piece of technology that would allow someone to transform into a different Alien species. Omni realised this device might be a chance for her to bring her race back. So she immediately started constructing it, following the blueprints to almost a t. However, she was unable to connect with the Codon Stream on Primus, as she needed space to put her mind in. Once completed, she locked the Omnitrix and herself in a pod, and shot it towards Earth.

Omni’s Personality: Omni is a very energetic and intelligent girl. She helped Jake understand the Omnitrix when it first attached itself to him, though she may have also gave him a heart attack when she first revealed herself. If there is something Jake does not know, he will almost always ask Omni for help. She is happy to oblige. However, being cooped up inside a watch does tend to make her a bit bored, and sometimes she will either jump out of the watch or transform Jake at inopportune moments for laughs. She will also rarely change Jake into a different Alien than he requested, if she feels like he has been that Alien too much lately. As she has knowledge of what Anime is, she could be considered a weeb. This proves detrimental when Jake ends up fighting a magic user that imbibes origami creatures with magic to make them life sized and attack. She is a big fan of this Villain and often tries to talk to them in the middle of a fight.

Enemies: Canon Villains Dean: Another wielder of a different kind of Omnitrix that seems to only turn him into Aliens from the Anur system. His watch was dubbed the ‘Anurtrix’ and he uses it to commit petty crime. Jake has fought and defeated Dean several times, foiling his thefts. However, every time Dean manages to slip away some how. (Enemy level: Hands. On sight.) Kitsune: A magic user that uses magic to transform her Origami creations into life sized counterparts. She seems to be after magical artifacts, specifically those of Japanese make. However, she seems to be younger than Jake, making him think she is going through her weeb phase. (Enemy level: Why are you doing this crime it makes no sense? I’m still gonna stop you though.) Colonel Rozum: Jake accidentally staged a breakout at Area 51. Freeing wrongly imprisoned Aliens and helping them return home via the theft of an experimental aircraft capable of space travel. Jake did not join the Aliens in leaving Earth, instead trusting them to make it home without him. Colonel Rozum does not know it was Jake who enabled the breakout, as he was transformed at the time. But as far as he is concerned it only confirmed the danger of Aliens. (Enemy level: You’re a government official so I can’t actually attack you but one day I’m going to punch that stupid moustache off your face.)

Allies: The Tennysons. Detective Arnold Mason: A detective in a large city close to Jake’s hometown. It was where he preformed his first act of heroism in front of people. Unfortunately due to a misunderstanding Mason thought Jake was a part of a rival gang. Jake attempted to clear it up. Mason and two other officers are now aware of a supposedly heroic car. (Ally level: Vigilantism is illegal, but you’re literally fighting Aliens so you do you I guess.)

Trouble Gear: Three Planchaküle that were stranded on Earth. Jake brought them to a junkyard and aided them in returning home. The trio were gifted a CD of AC/DC’s greatest hits by Jake. They consider it their favourite item. Having returned to their home planet, they are not currently available to Jake, but would immediately spring into action to help if he requested it. (Ally level: You helped us get home and introduced us to rock and roll. We will die for you.)

Trivia:

Jake is voiced by Dante Basco.

Omni is voiced by Samantha Ireland.

The first Alien Jake turned into was a Planchaküle. He has named this transformation ‘Ratchet’.

It doesn’t matter if you’re human, Alien, or intergalactic war criminal. If you are being driven somewhere by Jake, you wear. your. seatbelt.

The DNA of Omni’s race is available for Jake to turn into. But Jake doesn’t know that, and Omni actively tries to keep that hidden.

Jake’s Omnitrix has access to the Life Form Lock mode and the Scanner mode.

This theme is red and black, which is usually associated with villains but I thought it’d be funny if Jake had it because of association.

His ethnicity is half-Polynesian on his mothers side.

He isn’t sure if there are alternate counterparts in different dimensions. Though he is pretty sure if there were he would immediately throw hands.

Jake currently has no love interest, though I am considering an eventual redemption of Kitsune that might lead to that.

His Omnitrix will go through a serious design change. I shall share it in another post.

[cosmiciaria]

Radiata Stories review! (spoiler free - long post!)

I am SPEECHLESS. I can't believe I spent so many years without knowing about this game. My friend thoroughly recommended it to me but with my ps4 and many other pc games, I just wasn't in the mood for a ps2 oldie. But here I am, and I want to spread the word: play Radiata Stories.

In the world of Radiata, the land is divided into regions that belong to different races: elves, dwarves, orcs, humans (and ronsos – no, sorry, wrong game – but you can't fool me there's a lion guy who looks like Kimahri from FFX). These species have been at odds since time immemorial, and thus the dragons – Earth, Water, Fire, Wind, Silver and Gold – have guarded their beings from above.

We follow Jack Russell, a 16-year-old who dreams of becoming a knight. We accompany him to the entrance exams, only to see him fail miserably against a girl, Ridley Silverlake. Despite his clumsiness and obvious embarrassment for having been defeated, he's allowed to join the Radiata Knights, alongside Ridley, only because he's the son of an important late knight. They form a new brigade called Rose Cochon, under Captain Ganz Rothschild's leadership.

This trio will be sent into action in no time. Their dynamics are fun and there's a bit of rivalry between the two new knights, but they get things done. Ganz is proud to finally be able to be captain of his own brigade, and regards his two pupils with care and wisdom. This seems to be the flow the story is going to follow.

An important quest arrives: Rose Cochon brigade must reach the Elf Region and ask the Light Elves leader for a favor. However, things get tough in their journey there: a blood orc attacks the Dark Elves village, and the brigade plunges in to fight and defend.

In the battle, Ridley gets mortally wounded. Jack gets all frantic and desperate, and the brigade asks for the Elves' help. Lord Nogueira, the Dark Elf leader, decides to do the unthinkable for non-humans: the only way to save Ridley is to perform the transpiritation ritual, a spell only available for elves that allows them to take the soul of a dying fellow and use it to heal another one who might still live.

The ritual is successful, and Ridley's soul is fused with that of a small elf who'd died in the battle. Everything seems to settle down for a bit, with Jack and Ganz returning to Radiata City filled with good hopes for Ridley.

The next day, you're fired from the Knights.

This is where the game opens up for you!

From now on, it's just you, Jack, in the middle of a big city, paving his way to the top of the Vancoor Theater guild, the guild of warriors. Since the only thing you can do is fight, better to put it to good use and earn some money in the process!

The game offers a variety of things to do. You can start recruiting people as party members. You know, like, in Dragon Age, you can recruit characters into your team? Or, in any other rpg, that you have a team of five or six characters, maybe some more? Yes? Ok, here in RS you can recruit (listen to me) over 170 characters. Yep, you read right. Mind you, you can't recruit them (catch 'em all) in your first playthrough, but just so you know, yes, this game is that big.

Some people will ask you for a favor before they're added to the 'friend list', but others will join your right off the bat. Once you have a respectable team of four party members that you choose, you can begin doing solo missions, which are the guild's assignments to you and will redound in money and goodies. You get to know the other guild's members, you get to fight alongside them, you get to know and care for the civilians in the city. With a night-day system, if this game is anything, is alive.

NPC's have their own schedule: following the clock in the top left corner, they do and say different stuff depending of the moment of the day you approach them. They're walking around the city, performing random things, making them seem alive. Some events are only available at night, some others only during day. Some people will be nice, others not so much. Some parts of the city will shine, others will look depressing and dirty. Birds chirp, trees are swept by the wind's fine breeze, mosquitoes swarm around – this game breathes life into its pixels in every corner.

Now that we're on the aesthetic aspect, I must admit, this game looks gorgeous. With a very prominent anime artstyle, still it aged pretty well for today's standards: sometimes the lighting was too real, the sunlight pouring from the mountain's side, the character's long shadow stretching onto the road. The animations are good as well, as are the physics: I am beyond amazed by how well clothes and hairs move as flawlessly as if they were real. Each of the recruitable characters have a different victory pose and they have different lines for everything. Some particle effects are really nice, since I didn't think there existed the technology for it back then. The main city is huge, and when I say huge, I mean, every door you see, you can enter, and inside you'll find at least a two-floor building with objects to interact with and people to talk to. And don't even get me started on how BIG the Vareth Institute is in itself – and all that stuff is optional! The world is also vast and filled with brimming elements, although don't be fooled by the illusion of 3D: this game is, mostly, a 2D experience when you want to go from point A to point B.

You'll spend a good chunk of your game doing tasks for the guild. In the meantime, Ganz is somewhere playing the bandit and Ridley is hearing voices in her head. In this 'middle' part of the game, the story seemed to drag on forever for a bit: I wanted to go on with the main plot, and, while you can actually do that (just hit the sleep option over and over until a cutscene appears), the game tends to make you go through long and tedious solo missions to get that Grind™ you need. Dungeons are not long or too big in reality, but the number of encounters (which are forced on you since you can't avoid enemies by circling around most of the times for the 2D aspect) turns what should've been a walk in the park into a dragging hell. This portion of the game, I'm not going to lie, seemed a bit too long for me. And since the gameplay mostly consists in pressing the circle button and hearing Jack yell "Ha! Haiiyaah! Ha! Haiiyaah!" for ten hours straight, yeah, it can get boring.

But I guess the game was trying to make you feel at ease, comfortable around these walls. You're training your fave party members, you go with them everywhere to play the warrior and earn some money, you get occasional messages from Ridley telling you everything's fine – until the plot makes a halt and suddenly you must choose.

I'll keep this spoiler free, but this game is almost fifteen years old, so these are no news: there will come a point where the plot branches into two possible paths, the Human side, and the Non-Human side. I can't tell you which one is right, for there seems to be pros and cons in both, so I'll let your heart decide. For what we care now, I chose the Non-Human side, completely convinced with my decision, only to see myself doubt in many instances.

At this point, your plot shakes. Your comfort zone breaks. Suddenly, things are changing: your team is not there anymore, Ridley acts weird, where the hell is Ganz, what's going on with the dragons? Who am I supposed to trust in this world full of people who just want to exterminate each other?

I won't spoil it. I'll just say, that whatever you choose, please stand firm by your decision. You'll need that conviction, because the game is going to make your ground tremble a few times. And with those endings that await you – man, I don't know if I want to finish either path.

So, to avoid spoilers, I'll talk about the characters a bit!

Jack is your main protagonist, as you could've guessed. He's your average shonen main guy, at least in the beginning hours. He's clumsy, he wants to be a hero, and he even mocks shonen protagonists by saying that he'll awaken to a dormant power and save the world with his friends. But life hits him hard, accuses him of things he hasn't done, and so Jack evolves across the story. His character development is subtle, but it's there: he starts off as a brat who wants to fight, ends on a mature note, with some quite insightful thoughts and reactions I haven't expected from him. Normally, the shonen guy remains a shonen guy; this doesn't happen here. Jack ends up being an adorkable character, worthy of respect, sympathy, and a force to be reckoned with.

Ridley remains a calm force during the game. She's collected, she's well-educated, and she knows her way around. At the beginning, she can't stand Jack much, but as days go by, she starts to consider him as an equal and true friend. In the Non-Human path, her romantic feelings towards him are crystal clear: there's a small spark between them, that flickers every now and then when the plot allows them a moment's respite. Only them and a handful of other characters know the truth behind the transpiritation event, and as such there's a profoundly deep connection that keeps them together, although they're separated most of the story.

Ganz is ma fave boi and he must be protected at all costs. A young and promising man, Ganz was created to be likeable. You can't help but sympathize with his funny appearance: chubby, huge armor, huge sword, and funny moustache. But he's also a man of wisdom, with a golden heart. He's righteous and wants to do good. And he deserves all the love in the world.

Other notable characters are Genius, a scientist who's obsessed with the transpiritation thing that went down, and may know more about the plot than it seems at first glance; Natalie, a guarding woman who works as Ridley's not-so-secret bodyguard; Larks¸ the leader of the Knights and whose motivations remain a mystery to me even to this day – I can't read into this character at all!; Lord Zane, the leader of the Light Elves, who laughs maniacally when no one is watching and I can't bring myself to like him; Gawain, Ganz's father, who disappeared 16 years ago since his best friend died; and Cross, Ridley's fiancé, who just wants to be the best hunter and paves his way to the top of the knight ranks by any means necessary. I hate this guy so much, his only trait is 'I am a bad person' and that's it, he's so cartoonishly evil it makes me want to punch the screen. Probably you see more of him in the Human path, but unless he has a very tragic backstory to redeem him, he's not likeable at all. I mean, you can say that he has ambition and he gets s*it done, but still, damn him, and his voice actor, UGH.

Despite some minor thingies, the relationship between the characters is gold. Jack and Ridley are cute and make me wanna draw the meme of NOW KISS every two seconds. Jack and Ganz are companion goals. Ganz and his father – I loved that they kept their interactions personal and off screen. Idk why, but this story is about Jack, and yes, I care for Ganz as well, but his trouble with his father was his own, not Jack's, so I guess this is a director's decision which I'm 100% behind.

The plot can get predictable at times, but there's also a healthy amount of plot twists that made my jaw drop in a few occasions. I mean, I guessed who the bad guy was since the beginning, but let's face it, it's pretty obvious and the game doesn't hide it. There are other things that made the plot unfold worth my time, like trying to recruit that awesome character, or like what is the deal with Jack's late father, or what the hell is going on with Ganz, and what will happen to the city now that I'm on the Non-Human side? And the game answers them all (I read that the manga answers even more questions, so treat yourself).

All in all, RS is a vast jrpg experience, with high replay value and tons of things to explore. The world seems small, but it isn't. There's always a reward for those who wander off. For a ps2 title, this game is giant. And in the good sense. I thought I had seen the pinnacle of the ps2 era with Final Fantasy XII, but I'm highly considering changing my view on that one.

The endings are bittersweet in both paths. There's not a complete happy ending, I warn you. Things get darker towards the end, and the story knows how to subvert expectations in the good way. Remember Jack saying he wanted to be the hero like in a shonen anime? Well, not happening in this game guys. At the end of the day, this isn't a shonen story: this is a Radiata Story (roll credits), and like in every country's history, sometimes blood must be shed for events to take place and situations to unfold.

I am beyond pleased with this game. I'm considering playing through the Human side now – but first I need to recover myself from this Non-Human ending. I'm not ready to face more tragedy yet.

Go play it. Just do it. You won't regret it.

And pray that Tri-Ace develops ONE DAY a decent sequel.

[patricianandclerk]

Most Ungentlemanly

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus. 3k. Bad men being bad to one another. 

The Vint didn’t like Bull.

It was funny: he put up a show of being snide and funny, of being friendly but to a point – he played the perfect Tevinter, a shining figure with a cutting edge who was here as your ally, but you certainly didn’t want to get too close to. Most of the people in Haven were fucking terrified of him, and it was like he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.

He certainly moved with his staff in a confident way, strode with the slightest movement of his hips that made the hems of his robes sway as he moved. He looked like a force of nature when he moved with that kind of purpose, and that was without even factoring the sickly-sweet energy he left on the air around him as he moved, the tell-tale sign of a necromantic energy field. What it was about necromancers and never turning their shit off, Iron Bull didn’t know, but Pavus fit the bill: you couldn’t stand anywhere near him without feeling the flicker of that purple strain on your skin, making the hair stand on age, making you fucking shiver like you were still drinking from your Tama’s tit.

But there were moments, the Iron Bull noticed, when Pavus looked… uncertain. His confident mask slipped, sometimes, when people flinched away from him, especially kids, when they looked at him and then ran away, when he hadn’t actually been doing anything to be frightened of, except existing as a Vint mage, which was pretty fucking terrifying in itself.

He talked to the Inquisitor, sure.

But other than that, he didn’t actually seem to talk to anybody, much. He squirrelled himself away in his bed when he wasn’t actually out in the field, read whatever books he could get, even took his meals alone if he could… Until he didn’t. Bull kept an eye on him, and he noticed when Pavus began speaking – first with uncertainty radiating out from underneath his brash pretending, and then with more genuine confidence and curiosity – with Solas. He sniped playfully with Vivienne, two nobles fussing about clothes and witty remarks and nastiness like all of them were weapons in their own right. He complimented Varric’s chest hair, and Varric complimented his moustache, and next Bull knew it, the two of them were sharing a bottle of whiskey and giggling together over a passage of some Free Marcher book he’d never heard of.

It never lasted.

It was like Pavus took down his walls for a conversation, relaxed marginally, and then built them rapidly up again, because he was stiff back in camp, when they weren’t in the field together, or when he was with someone one-on-one.

It was the one-on-one thing that made Bull take pause. Pavus tended to engage one person in conversation at a time, like he was scared of joining a group conversation unless he could treat the people involved like they were his audience, like people scared him. He didn’t look scared, when he moved around, didn’t look frightened, and yet…

“Well, if it isn’t the Vint not-magister if you please!” Bull called when he saw Pavus step down from Haven’s main hold, and Pavus turned to regard him. For just a second, he looked upset, but then came the pretty Tevinter confidence, the ease. All fake, huh?

“You know, you watch me so focusedly with your singular eye,” he said. “Imagine how much more concentratedly you might examine me with no eyes at all!”

“What, wanna burn off some energy, big guy?” Bull asked when Pavus took a few steps closer, his expression guarded. Pavus’s body was a little stiff as he turned to meet Bull’s eye, the stiffness of a guy carefully suppressing a flinch at a sudden noise, and he looked at the Iron Bull seriously. His gaze flickered past Bull, too, over the tent – looking for Krem, looking for the other Chargers. “Got space in the tent.”

Bull leered at him. Pavus liked men, that much was clear – he liked big men, too, liked rough men with hair and shields and muscles. Oh, he watched Cullen, sure, but he watched the templars, too, watched Blackwall, even. The Altus drew up his shoulders slightly, raising his chin. His pretty eyes narrowed, but it only made the grey-brown irises catch the glint of the Rift above their heads, making it look for a second like the green was pouring out of Pavus’ own eyes.

“Rumours of the debauchery in the Magisterium have become most exaggerated, I fear,” he said, and there was the slightest quaver in his voice – he was scared of the Iron Bull. He didn’t want to admit it, no, because admitting fear, that was stupid, but he was scared, scared of how big he was, how beastly… Or maybe just how different. “Bestiality goes well beyond even my darkest proclivities, dear man.”

“I meant a spar,” the Iron Bull said, his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raised.

Pavus actually faltered, his lips parting, his eyes widening a little – it was one thing to be impolite when you meant to be, but another when you were impolite for no reason. Sure, there was a reason, and Bull was just fucking with the Vint, but if it worked, it worked.

“But you know, if you think a little fight is always gonna end in me fucking you, I guess I should believe you.”

Pavus scowled. “Curious,” he murmured, “that the Inquisitor should invite one of your ilk amongst his people – and no less, a self-confessed spy!”

“Funny that he’d pick out a Vint mage, too,” the Bull replied, taking a slow step forward, and Pavus stood his ground, but his gaze flickered down to Bull’s feet, then back up to his thighs, his belly, his chest. The gaze lingered just a millisecond longer than it needed to on certain parts, and that told Bull all he needed to know. “But I trust him. Even if I don’t trust you.”

“There aren’t many who would invite a man they don’t trust to spar,” Pavus said softly, and he smiled in the prettiest way Bull had never seen on a Vint. There was something in that smile that made his eyes light up and his cheeks glow, something that made Bull’s mouth dry and his cock give an interested twitch – it was probably the knife edge in it. “Not with half a brain in their heads, anyway.”

“Maybe I’m just interested to put a Vint like you in the dirt,” the Bull said, taking another step closer, and now Pavus stiffened, his grip tightening on his staff. He wasn’t imagining it – there was a slight dilation to Pavus’ pupils that wasn’t just about fear. There was more in it, fear mixed with want, with the forbidden, the taboo, with the big beast and his rippling muscles and his horns. “Polish that thing nightly, do ya?”

“I shan’t hold back with you, you know,” Pavus said softly. “If you wish to test your mettle against me, Bull, I shall allow you to, but I won’t tiptoe for your sake.”

“Tiptoe? Around me?” Bull laughed, the sound a barking thump on the air. It’d be useful, to fuck Pavus. He was here gathering info on the Inquisition, but Pavus knew about the Magisterium, even if he wasn’t a magister – what would he let slip, if Bull gave him what he really wanted, bent him over and fucked him ‘til he cried, scratch that itch that Daddy left when he didn’t buy Pavus a pony for his seventh birthday, or whatever the fuck his deal was? It’d look good, for command. He’d been getting a little too into the Inquisition, for his own sake, for the Chargers’ sake, as much as the Qun’s, but if he could send back info on Tevinter… “This is an invitiation, Altus Pavus,” Bull said lowly. “Little plausible deniability for wanting the monster from Par Vollen to blow your back out.”

“Is it?” Pavus asked softly, his voice quavering slightly – with want or indignation, it wasn’t exactly easy to tell, but there was probably a little crossover between both. “I thought it was an invitation to leave you in the dust.”

“Ooh, the dust?” Bull asked softly. “That where you want me, big guy, on my back? That how your Magister friend used to leave you?”

Oh, there it was. Pavus’ whole demeanour changed, burned with intent, and Bull had to suppress the urge to cheer.

“Fetch your axe,” Pavus whispered. “If you want to choose folly.”

Bull grinned.

He didn’t like magic. He’d rather not actually spar at all with Pavus, but when he had the guy on his back, he’d see where the fake confidence went to. He’d watched Pavus fight – the guy left himself open too often, moved too fast, overtaxed himself… He was a necromancer, but he only ever used the necromancy to bolster his mana a little, so Dalish said…

Bull picked up his axe, and they stepped a little bit away from the path.

“You want to spar?” Pavus asked, smiling sweetly. “Let us spar.”

He threw himself into it just like Bull knew he would, throwing off all these flashy spells like he was just waiting for applause, as he always did, and Bull dodged neatly and cleverly, getting a little closer every time, ready to drop his axe as soon as he could grab the mage and shove him in the dirt. The flashes hurt his eye, but he didn’t let himself flinch away, just waited for the chink in Pavus’ defences—

Yeah. Left himself open on the lefthand side, always did that, even in the field, fucking dumbass Vint with no military training—

Bull choked.

Pavus had turned to face him, and Bull was hovering a foot off the ground. The magic slid sticky over his skin like tree sap, uncomfortable, tugging at the hairs as it roved right over his skin, and it was hot, hot and tingling. It closed around his throat like a fist, squeezing, and Bull couldn’t even struggle, he was caught fast in the stuff. The axe dropped onto the ground.

“You know,” Pavus said softly, “one of the things we’re taught in the Magisterium, the Iron Bull, is that appearance is everything. And do you know what one does when a Qunari spy is watching him at every available moment, scouring him for weaknesses? One puts on a show!” The anger in his voice was palpable, and he shouted when he spat out the words.

Okay, this was Bull’s bad. He misjudged this maybe a little.

“Boss!” shouted Krem, running forward, and Pavus’ hand moved so fast Bull could barely see it: he backhanded Krem hard across the cheek, an orange glow running over the hand as he did so, and he didn’t even look away from Bull as Krem hit the ground hard.

“Do you want to see if I can take them all?” Pavus asked softly, deliberately, taking a few steps closer. Bull felt like he was going to burst into flames, he was trying so hard to fucking move, couldn’t even do more than twitch his damned fingers. Krem was laid out on the floor and he wasn’t moving, and Bull couldn’t look away from him until Pavus was right in front of him. “Stitches won’t be too difficult,” Pavus said in a voice like warm honey. “Grim, well, he won’t difficult at all – and Skinner, goodness, what a joke! Rocky might be a bit of trouble, but not too much. I think the only one that might give me the slightest bit of difficulty is Dalish, but let us be honest with one another, she so often loses sight of defensive capabilities if you stoke her temper a bit, doesn’t she? Will this situation merit that useful fury of hers?”

Bull dropped hard on the ground, still on his feet, but his arms were still stuck at his sides, his feet rooted to the spot – and, stupid, smart Vint, his head felt like it was pinned in place so he couldn’t even headbutt the Vint bastard.

Pavus’ hand touched Bull’s chest. Koslun’s balls, he was pretty when he smiled.

“E-aarvaarad?” he asked, with an almost perfect accent. “Bas-issqun, bas-saarebas issqun?”  My keeper, are you? Master of the bas, master of the bas-saarebas? “Do forgive me, Dathras, but one has to laugh.”

He shoved Bull hard in the chest, and there was magic in the thrust: Bull was thrown back into the snow and he slid on the path, choking, massaging his throat. Pavus was already walking away, out amidst the sparring troops – no doubt finding Cullen.

“Krem!” Bull said hoarsely. “You okay?”

Krem cursed in Tevinter, sitting up from the snow, and he touched the side of his cheek. There was no mark there, not even a slight pinking from the blow, and Bull forced himself to his feet, coming over to check him out.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Me being a dumbass,” Bull muttered. “Guess I didn’t have the measure of that Vint bastard I thought I did. You okay?”

“He didn’t actually hit me,” Krem muttered. “Just looked like he did: the magic threw me down. Cunt.”

--

Bull went to find Pavus, the next morning. He felt… fucking stupid. Guy had obviously picked up enough about the Chargers, and he knew enough Qunlat to bitch in it – knew enough to call Bull a pig. And— Was he faking the weakness to his left side? Just for Bull to go for the shot?

“Where’s the Vint?” he asked.

Solas glanced up from his tea, which he was sipping at in a mild, distasteful way, as though he didn’t like it.

“I am curious, the Iron Bull,” he said delicately. “I don’t know that there’s anyone in the compound that can upset Altus Pavus as you can.” Solas stood, though, and nodded his head, opening up the little house that they and a few of the other mages were bedding up in. Pavus was laid on the far side of the room, on his side, facing the wall.

He looked small. Arms crossed over his chest, legs curled up toward it, breathing slow and even.

Bull stared at him for a long, long moment.

He stepped into the room, bowing his head so that his horns didn’t scrape the doorframe, and he came closer, closer. The Vint didn’t even pretend to be asleep, curled up in his little ball, his eyes on the wooden panels.

“I do apologise,” Pavus said in a very small voice. Not a shy one: it was firm, clear. Just very quiet. “That was most ungentlemanly of me.”

He looked young, like this. He wasn’t that much younger than Bull, only five or six years younger than him, at the very most – he was at least in his late twenties, if not thirty. But like this, he looked small and young and vulnerable, like he’d be easy for Bull to break into a few dozen pieces.

“You don’t touch my people,” Bull said lowly.

Pavus gave a tiny nod of his head. His face was writ with shame. Bull hated how uncomfortable it made him feel, his gut twisting.

“Where’d you learn Qunlat?”

“Qunari raiders.”

“When’d you talk to Qunari raiders?”

“When they raided us.”

The Iron Bull hadn’t lost his patience, just yet, but he decided to pretend that he had: he grabbed Pavus by the hair and dragged him up off the bed, awkwardly on his knees with Bull’s grip so tight he cried out in pain, but he didn’t try to shove off his hands, his grip. Bull and Pavus were nose to nose, and Bull could smell all his pretty, la-di-dah cologne, could smell the peppermint wash he used on his teeth, the mousse in his hair. Pavus was all but limp in Bull’s grip.

“What, no more insults?” Bull asked.

“If you’re going to hit me, hit me,” Pavus muttered. “But then, if you would, please leave me be.”  

Bull frowned slightly, loosening his grip and letting Pavus down on his knees a little. Pavus looked waxen-faced and sad, and he wouldn’t meet Bull’s gaze, instead focusing somewhere in the realm of his nose, his mouth.

“Really crossed a line with what I said about Alexius, huh?” Bull asked quietly, and Pavus looked up and into his eye. “Won’t do it again.”

“Please leave me be.”

“Tell you what,” Bull said, letting Pavus drop down onto his bed. “You and I, we pretend this didn’t happen. Start over.”

Pavus said nothing, and Bull didn’t push his luck with it, just turned around, stepped out of the cabin. At the door, he saw that Dorian was lying down again, facing the wall once more.

--

The next time he saw the mage, he put out his hand to shake, said, “They call me the Iron Bull. What should I call you? Or is pretty Vint mage hiding a bomb under his robes gonna have to do? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, it’s a mouthful.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Qunari knew the names of spells,” Pavus purred, after only a second’s breathless pause, staring up at Bull like he was made of something magical, like he was carved out of gold and put up in Minrathous town square. “But it’s called Walking Bomb, my beastly friend. That makes me the explosive.”

“I meant your ass,” Bull said, letting some of his genuine discomfort with that particular sentence show through, and Pavus laughed, but he took Bull’s hand, shook it. Bull wouldn’t make the same mistakes, this time, would be a little subtler, wouldn’t run in so fast, so eager. He could probably get the mage into his bed, could get the info out of him – there was no need to rush.

“Altus Pavus,” he said. “But you might call me Dorian. Three syllables is easier to remember than four for you, no?”

“Might struggle with it,” Bull said, grinning and leaning in a little, just to see Dorian shiver. “We’ll see.”

“What the fuck are you two doing?” asked the Inquisitor, looking between them like they’d both gone crazy.

“Making friends,” Bull said.

“Aiding international relations,” Dorian said.

“Right,” the Inquisitor muttered, and turned to talking with Solas.

“Mindless beast of burden,” Dorian muttered when he looked back to Bull.

“Pretty Vint with a pretty smile,” Bull replied, saccharinely sweet, and he didn’t think he imagined the slight colouring to Dorian’s cheeks as he shoved Bull’s hand away.

[grubdj]

Hi I just read that prompt you wrote about Micah and it was amazing! If you don’t mind I would love to see 13 and 19 with him as well. Thank you!!

“Want me to teach you how to shoot?”

“And what do I get out of this?”

Word Count: 1,879

Horseshoe Overlook was a pleasant place to camp. The warm sun and slight breeze carried by the river below was definitely preferred to the harsh weather of Colter. However, it wasn’t just the weather that made it preferable but the overall mood of camp became much lighter and happier.

You had joined the Van Der Linde Gang only a few weeks before the infamous Blackwater job had sent you and the group of outlaws on the run up into the mountains. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dutch who’d found and recruited you, unlike most of the others. Micah had met you in a bar after skulking about the cobbled streets, looking for a lead.

You’d just cussed out some nasty piece of work who’d ask how much it’d cost him for an hour with you when he had sat next to you, chuckling as he tossed the bartender some change for a whiskey. “Somethin’ funny, mister?” you’d spat at him, grip tightening on the bottle in your hand when the smirk didn’t leave his face. “Oh I just ain’t seen a man turn tail so fast in my life is all”, “Well I don’t have a lot of patience for men of that sort”

He thought over your statement, swirling the drink in his hand before replying, “Course not, a girl like you can get on fine just by yourself, ain’t that right?”, “Damn right.” You took a swig of your drink and placed the empty bottle on the counter before standing, “Well, it was nice talkin-”

“Bet a girl like you can cause some real damage, huh?” He was in your face now, standing taller than you and crowding you in every way he possibly could, causing your legs to hit the back of your stool. You were taken back by his sudden change in attitude but recovered, tense and ready to fight your way out of this if you needed to. “What do you want?”, “Just a proposition is all, I got friends who’d like a girl with your attitude”

Taking a deep breath and thinking over the connotations of his offer, you decided to accept it, after all, what did you have to lose?  “And what do I get out of this?”

Picking apart the hay bale you lifted your head and whistled over the gang’s horses. The dramatic stomp of hooves and irritated snorts at your call made you laugh to yourself. Over the weeks spent with the gang, you’d shown your skill in robbing, chores and caring for horses and had gotten to know most of the members well enough to know whether or not their animals fit their personalities - which they definitely did. Some of the lighter tempered horses had made their way over to you and began to eat so you made yourself scarce so you didn’t throw off the peace in the group.

Although the camp was peaceful, the only real excitement came from going into town or the rare parties that Dutch would announce seemingly out of the blue. Your heart would sink with envy when you saw the men riding out to rob and kill, you knew you’d be just as capable but they wouldn’t even consider letting you ride with them without even knowing how to shoot a gun.

Micah had taken an interest in you the second saw you in that bar and his offer for to join the gang was his way of ensuring he’d see you again and get to know you, though he’d never admit that out loud. He’d also never say that he liked you out loud, not that he did, of course, just found you interesting is all. He wasn’t as sly as he thought however, everyone could see his gestures: handing you a drink without being asked, asking if you’d eaten when Pearson’s stew pot was looking empty and something as small as asking how you were or greeting you - all this was new to the others, they knew what he was really like, they had been victims of his attitude for months now and it was clear you were different in his eyes.

Now, Micah was in Dutch’s tent complaining about being told to go into town for supplies, “Come on, Dutch, it’s a waste of my time. Give me some real work, got any fellas need shootin?”, “Micah, after your little incident over in Strawberry, I’m trying to keep your finger off the trigger. Now, are you gonna take orders or do I have to rethink your place in this gang?” Dutch’s tone quickly switched from neutral to threatening and Micah put his hands up in surrender, lowering his posture and replying through gritted that he’d get the job done before stepping out of the tent.

He saw you hanging around the horses after feeding them and asked you which were the most able to pull a wagon. You brought him two of the draft horses the gang often used for the wagons, they weren’t owned by anyone in particular but were important for the group’s travel. Handing them over to him, he leads them to the vehicle and you followed behind with their gear, both of you silently agreeing to tack up one each.

You placed the bridle over the horses head and fit it so was secure and comfortable, moving onto the collar whilst starting conversation, “So, Dutch didn’t sound too happy”, “He wants me to go into town and get supplies, told him it was a waste of my time and well, you heard how felt about that.” You laughed at his irritated tone and rough movements, “Well don’t take it out on the horse unless you want to be out of commission from more than just shopping for a while, by the way, you’re doing it wrong”

He huffed and undid his mistake, trying to fix it and losing patience with the leather straps when you told him he was still doing it wrong, “Well I don’t know! This ain’t my goddamn job anyway!”, you hid your laugh behind a sigh and told him to come round to your side, “Just watch me, it’s not that hard”. Talking him through each step and routinely making sure he was paying attention, you taught him how to tack up the horse correctly.

He furrowed his brows when you looked up at him expectantly, “What?”, “It’s your turn, obviously”, “Seriously? It’d be quicker if you just did it.”, “Micah, I did not just waste my time talking it through to just let you sit back and watch me do the work”, “But I do so love to watch you work”. His flirty comment was not lost on you as you pushed him around the cart, shoving the leather gear into his arms and commanding him to work.

He chuckled before clearing his throat and replying with a semi-serious “Yes, miss” and following your instructions. He got the job done decently quick, only making the occasional mistake, “Nice work, you learn fast”, “Well it looked like I didn’t have much of a choice.”, “Yeah, you didn’t, so you’re going into Valentine then?” “That’s the plan”

He climbed into the seat and gathered the reins into his hands whilst looking down at you, “Say, you got any work needs doing?”, “No, I’m about done here”, He scratched at his moustache and asked, “How about you join me then?”, “Finally, I was starting to think you weren’t gonna ask”

You settled into the seat beside him, “Well, what are we getting then? Show me the list” “… The list?”, “Uh.. yeah? Pearson didn’t give you a list?”. He tugged at his collar and shifted in seat clearly realising how stupid he looked, “I just forgot is all, give me a minute” He jumped off the wagon and made his way to the chuckwagon, returning to you when he got the ‘stupid ass list’.

“We ready to go now or did you forget how to drive as well?” You teased him, “Amusing as always, Y/N.” he replied whilst whipping the horses to move out of camp through the trees.

The drive was mostly spent by you watching the scenery and getting your bearings, hoping to ride out on your own once you got the chance. Your unbridled attention on your surroundings amused Micah, “You must get real bored in that camp”, “I do, I wish I could run with you and the others”, “You can, why don’t you ask, Dutch? He ain’t against women and all that shit if that’s what you’re thinking”, “No, Micah, I can’t- I don’t know how to shoot”.

He took a few seconds to reply but cut himself off before he could utter a word, his attention drawn to the treeline at your sides, you followed his gaze but saw nothing worrying. “Micah? What’s wrong?”, “We’re being followed”, You looked again and saw them, a group of riders with green collars closing in on the wagon, “O’Driscolls?”, “O’Driscolls. Keep your head down, we’re almost in Valentine”, “You think they’ll leave us alone there? Arthur said they pretty much run the place”

They had left their hidden places in the trees and now rode at both sides of the wagon, their voices were calm but intimidating, “This is our country folks, what’s your business here?”, Micah spoke for the both of you, keeping their attention on him and away from you, “Just a supply trip fellers, a farm don’t keep itself fed, y’know? We don’t mean you no offence, sir” It was clear he wanted nothing more than to shoot them down and be through with it but he held himself back, for your sake.

“Well, that’s just fine ain’t it? But ya see, we’re gonna need some compensation for you coming through here - I’d say $5 each, that sound fair to you?”. You noticed Micah’s hands tightening on the reigns, a remark that’d surely get you killed resting at the end of his tongue so you placed a hand on his arm and brought $10 from your satchel passing it to the man closest to you. “Thank ya kindly, we’ll be seein’ ya round folks.” They turned and ran off the opposite way to the wagon, hollering and laughing as they went.

“That went a lot better than I expected, right Micah?”, “You shouldn’t have done that, I could’ve taken ‘em”, “Yeah, whatever you say.” 

The rest of the journey was quiet and slightly tense, both of you only speaking in the store to make sure you’d gotten everything you needed and you were headed back home in no time. “You really want to run with me and the others? It ain’t no pretty tale, doll.”, “I do. Don’t be acting like I haven’t killed before. Just never shot before.”, “Or been shot at.”, “I can handle it, Micah, I know I can.”

“Want me to teach you how to shoot?”, “You’d do that?”, “Do you want me to or not?”, “I’d like that, Micah, thank you”. He leaned back into his seat, the absence of your rejection made him relax and he turned to you and grinned at your clear anticipation for the lesson to come, “We’ll make a fine outlaw of you yet, Y/N”

agghh Idk how I do it but I always manage to leave these fics needing a part 2, oh well, more Micah content to create is something I won’t shy away from. I hope you enjoyed!

Also, btw, did you know that in 1899 $5 was equal to $151.63 today? damn, you really paying big money for Micah not to be shot, I tip my hat to you cowpoke

[psyleedee]

What We Love And What We Lose.

Pairing: Dean×Castiel.

Words:1210.

by blueberryspacekitten

You know, love is actually such a beautiful thing. No, not just the flowers and chocolates, or the grandeur dates, but the simple things. Mostly, its amazing how each person has a different perspective or expectation from love. Maybe someone needs a partner that supports them the way they are, maybe someone needs a partner who encourages them to change into something better, but at the end of the day, what matters is who you think of first when the word 'love' is said to you.

The first time Dean felt love was outside a dingy strip club. It was with a naive, innocently funny Angel. Dean had brought 'Cas' along with him to a strip club, to encourage him to have a hook-up with one of the strippers. It was that moment, when Cas looked up nervously at one of the escorts, his upper lip covered with a froth moustache from the beer. And then he felt it again, when he dragged Cas out of the club, after Cas had used his angel powers, and narrated the stripper's life story to her, and she practically screamed. Dean hadn't laughed like that in ages. Not with tears rolling out his eyes, and body aching by laughing too hard. The dishevelled Angel, however, didn't find anything funny about it.

Dean didn't know what it was at the moment, when they stopped suddenly, and locked eyes. What mattered to Dean in that moment was Cas, and nothing else. Castiel's tipsy eyes from drinking beer, his red tinged blush, his cerulean blue eyes, Dean felt like a teenager, rediscovering the simplistic aspects of love.

Where there is day, there is night, where there is black there is white and so, where there was joy, there had to be pain. It wasn't until a few years later, when Dean was standing near the lake- old, worn out trenchcoat folded roughly in his hands, and the man he loved, walking to his death. It was a brutal sight, seeing Cas walk so calmly into the lake. But it was the damn trenchcoat that was to blame. Why did Dean even keep it? Memoirs are for dead people, but Cas- Cas wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He couldn't give up on Dean's love- he couldn't give up on Dean.

Dean lied. He lied all the time when he said he was okay, because he wasn't. He wasn't okay, when he looked at that damned trenchcoat, he remembered every happy moment he ever spent with Cas, and every other happy moment, he wouldn't be able to have with him.

It was a reminder, that nothing lasts forever. Not love, not feelings, not emotions, not human, not angels.

Dean cried. He cried whenever he could, because he loved Cas- but he lost him. But these cries weren't just emotions let out, they were silent prayers to anyone up in heaven, or maybe even Cas- to make things right. To give him the strength to make things right.

The first time Dean realized the worth of loving someone was when he looked at the familiar, blue eyed man, who called himself 'Emmanuel'. Dean was confused, furious and like a hundred questions raced through his mind. His body wanted to tear apart, molecule by molecule, and put itself back together. He wanted answers and most of all, he wanted to break down and cry. Because that man, Emmanuel, he was Cas. He was Dean's Angel. Dean felt restless, and stressed and what not. But then, all he wanted to do was pull Cas close, and bury himself in his arms. The world could go on with its chaos for a little longer, but that moment was Dean's and he needed it.

The first time Dean kissed Castiel, was in the dark of the night. It was a dimly lit room, the bunker's kitchen. It had been 10 years since Castiel had become part of the Winchesters. Almost 10 years since Dean slowly fell in love with the angel in the dirty trenchcoat. It had been when Sam and Jack were asleep. Dean couldn't sleep however. He was too euphoric, to giddy about Cas coming back from The Empty. And so they stood leaning against the counters, facing each other. Conversations flowing easily.

"Its good to have you back, man."

"Its good to be back."

"Don't wanna get too sappy on you, but we missed you Cas. I missed you. A lot."

"I know Dean… and I'm sorry you had to go through that…"

"No, don't apologise Cas. It wasn't your fault…"

"…"

"…"

"You know Cas, when you were lying in the table- d-dead… I didn't know what to do. I felt so lost Cas, so heart-broken… Maybe we won the damn fight- but I lost you Cas, and that was my biggest failure. Not to mention the other countless times I've failed you."

"Dean… I- I didn't know you cared about me this much-"

"What, you blind?"

"No, I just- you never said it out loud…"

"Somethings you just can't, Cas."

"Oh… Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You… you haven't failed me. You being alive and safe is the biggest victory for me. You know I would choose you over anyone, any person, no matter what."

"Cas… I know you would. You've given up the other angels for me, you gave up your army for me... You've even given up yourself to save me… And then I keep feeling like there's all this stuff you're doing for me, and I can't repay you."

"Dean… You never have to repay… you were my fisrt mission Dean. I still remember clear- save Dean Winchester. Save the Righteous Man. And I did, and I rebuilt every part of him. Every part that was hurt... I even- even, uh, left a piece of my soul in him…"

"You saying we soulmates?"

"I guess, in a way."

"Huh…"

Too many beers or what, Dean didn't know, but what he did know was that he had pulled his angel towards him by the lapel of his trenchcoat, and pressed a soft, sweet and lingering kiss on his lips. Castiel had gasped, he didn't know what to say or do. He let himself completely into the kiss, letting Dean take control. Dean had kissed him with such passion and warmth, that when they pulled away, the air seemed strange and cold.

"Wow, that was…"

"Awesome?"

"Unexpected."

It took a few moments for the duo to stop blushing furiously.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"I... I love you."

"I love you too."

That night was spent in Dean's room, both Cas and Dean entangled with each other, arms wrapped around protectively. Cas's soft hair tickling Dean's chin and Cas's pressed his head onto Dean's chest. Dean's hand cradling Castiel, squeezing him so tight it felt possessive.

The next morning, a sleepy Cas walked into the kitchen, and greeted Sam a good morning.

Not soon after, Dean followed behind and slid his arms around Cas's waist, kissing his neck softly before mumbling a low I love you.

Sam sighed.

"Finally."

[thisiscomics]

A book called Bodycount with Simon Bisley on full-on line art mode (like Lobo as opposed to the fully painted glory of The Horned God or Judgement on Gotham) was never going to be subtle, but it can certainly be deranged fun.

Originally a Casey Jones and Raphael mini-series, it’s been repackaged by IDW/Top Shelf as a hardcover book. Maybe this sort of craziness is done a disservice by the treatment- you can’t lay it out flat, for one thing, and it’s such a crazed pulp adventure that you may feel on some level it wants to be printed on crappy paper and corrupt the minds of the youth through less prestigious means of distribution than this, but never mind all that, as it looks pretty damn good this way.

Eastman is credited with layouts, but it definitely feels like Bisley through and through. The layouts/finished pages comparison at the back suggests the Biz did treat them as rough outlines at best, and certainly a lot of the extra detail is pure Bisley (what looks like a mini-elephant and a cigarette smoking chimp in a suit appearing in a panel, for example. No reason, they’re just there. And why not?). From Eastman’s afterword, it’s funny to learn that the artist didn’t always pay much attention to Eastman’s character designs either- not much of a problem for the new characters, a little more awkward for the decade-plus old Raphael: “I had to convince him that the way Peter Laird and I had been drawing the Turtles for years was the correct way! But, if you look closely at every panel [...], I think you will find Simon snuck in his version every once in a while.”

The story itself is effectively one long shoot out and chase- this panel shows that even Raphael got in on the gun fun (although he has to break off the trigger guard to get his digits in there). Only Casey stays true to his dislike of guns, but fortunately he is still interested in violence and so isn’t really left out. Everything is so excessive that it’s hard not to think of Bisley’s Lobo (the bad guy here has a moustache that isn’t a million miles away from The Main Man’s markings, actually...), and it definitely shares some of the carnage-centred DNA of the Grant/Giffen/Bisley comics. Neither plot nor art shies away from excess, and just keeps the bullets flying. It also manages a good bit of peak-90s deranged costume design, when Midnight, the female character central to the plot changes out of her jacket and jeans for a climactic showdown with her would-be assassin, opting for a top apparently made of a couple of shoelaces, and some sort of g-string/suspenders combo, ensuring that very little is covered and no one can miss her chest (or anything else- see below). Seems like its purpose is to let the blood flow- by which I mean in the subsequent battle royale, but yep, perhaps in other ways as well, ya little pervs.

I suspect this is very much a love it or hate it book (Goodreads would suggest this is the case- there seems to be an even split of 1 and 5 star reviews, not that many people settling for an in the middle 3 star judgement), and is likely very dependent on your feelings about the extreme Heavy Metal approach of the artist (never sure when I read that description if people mean Heavy Metal. So, to be clear, I don’t. I mean RAWK!!! Like Heavy Metal Dredd, not Métal Hurlant). I found it enjoyable in a crazed, muscle bound and blood soaked way, a deranged action movie for when your brain is taking a little rest and you just want something that looks good and motors along without brakes. Adrenaline and, well, more adrenaline, really.

From Bodycount by Kevin Eastman, Simon Bisley, Steve Lavigne & Altered Earth Arts.

[a-room-with-a-mew]

SCOOP by Evelyn Waugh

‘The funniest novel ever written about journalism’… I don’t know; is it just me or does this not really sell it? Is journalism a natural place we go to for laughs? I mean.. Yeah, there are comic-features writers, and journos who write books and scripts and maybe even do stand up. But in terms of fiction, of stories, I’d almost always think of journalism as high drama, a noble pursuit like in All the President’s Men or Superman. Waugh is interested in hackism. Okay he is indulging in a little self-parody here, as a writer himself, but for quite a time, this book feels like a long in-joke, a nudge to a colleague. While it works well as a series of jokes, sketches, and odd-ball characters in crazy situations, the fact that this is a novel means that we are invited to rest our feet upon the rocky conceit of a war in a far-off, fictional foreign land, which may or may not reflect a real war/ place. And additionally, as the place and people aren’t real, only ‘inspired by’, Waugh can say whatever he bally likes about them with impunity. A bit like The Life of Brian, only well – not as funny! Tall order though of course.

Let’s dive in. I managed to stick with and read SCOOP on my third attempt after owning the novel for years. Like a lot of books, the cover mystifies. Who are these? Mrs Stitch presumably? There’s only two watery female characters in the book so must be her. She doesn’t figure much so the cynic in me thinks the publishers are attempting to glam up the story.. With her fur and hat and the moody black and white. Reminds me of an edition of Brideshead I saw once in a shop – the cover had a cartoon slinky flapper girl – the hat, the stole, elbow-length gloves, cigarette holder, diamonds and whatnot. Missing the point a bit I think! So! Here we have two snoots getting on a plane. This doesn’t happen in the book. Natch.

Story

Likely the appeal or not of this story will depend upon whether you like action / adventure stories and seek thrills and fantastic places and daring endeavours. Of course you do! Well, I don’t. Or at least – I don’t tend to read them. Give me Indiana Jones on the big screen – but I don’t know if I’d read Alexander Fleming or the da Vinci Code (again). In the books I read, people tend to sit around thinking, or drive thinking, or potter around the kitchen, thinking, or fall in love but not realize it or declare it, or holiday and develop the self, but very subtly, or befall intensely personal disasters,  make human connexions that you have to squint to see.

Suffice to say I loved, say, A Handful of Dust to distraction. Brilliant book. What actually happened? What was the plot? Ahm… Well.. Hard to describe, the slow, tragic dissolution of a marriage. That makes it sound boring. It isn’t!! SCOOP kind of is, and yet the action doesn’t let up for a paragraph.

Waugh – probably joyfully – breaks the golden rule of writing by NOT introducing his main character in the first page / chapter. Tries to fox us, he does. Very clever – in fact the whole book is, very clever: maybe that’s why it left me behind in the dust. Okay, so though some administrative cock-up, our hero, William Boot - a very sheltered country-squire sort who generally never leaves his decaying mansion full of ancient relatives – he’s never described physically, but go ahead and imagine the plus-fours, Norfolk jacket, pristine boots, hunting hat, moustache - finds himself sent, as a foreign correspondent, to a war-torn country of which he has never heard. Promising premise.  

What follows is William’s whirlwind adventure of being summoned to his new post, preparing to go to Africa, complete with the bare essentials - collapsible boat and hockey-sticks and back-street passports. Everything is charged back to the paper – The Beast – and so there is a real consumer-fetish going on here too! As William is one of those old-fashioned toffs who own great estates but are somehow stony broke.

Much of the novel is taken up with travelling – to this fabled Ishmaelia, which was initially founded by an American family called the Jacksons, and various in-fighting and coups have taken place within the dynasty for generations. Now they’re out of power, and socialism is threatening to sneak in via the Russians. I do believe? And there’s much interest in this particular country from other well-to-do nations. Of course this doesn’t come about for a while, and for most of the mission, William wanders around hearing snippets and spending the paper’s money. Is Waugh indulging in a little revenge fantasy? William is incapable as a journalist, but just happens to be in the right place at the right time and know the right people, and comes through with the climactic glory of the story – not the exposure of the truth, but a good story with lots of COLOUR.

Characterization

Okay well, as I’ve mentioned somewhere, Waugh is not a writer whose strongest suit is characterization – it’s his writing, wording that shines, and we’ll get to that in a minute. And yet the characters are the reason we generally love a story, no? Or at least – if you are interested in the human psyche, the intricacies of human relations, the effect of surroundings upon the humans therein. But for Waugh, his love is words and the ways he can string them beautifully: he sees the novel "not as an investigation of character, but as an exercise in the use of language.” An exercise! Like you do at school.

William Boot, the protagonist, is so wan and inconsequential that his mistaken namesake is introduced first, and more memorably. He reminds me of Paul Pennyfeather from Decline and Fall – he is only there to go along with the plot, adding nothing to it with his own input, but only to observe the zany characters around him. And Paul annoyed me so much! The way the others were breaking curfew in college, and Paul blandly took the blame without a fight. And he floats through the rest of it. Although William differs from Paul in one way – though William is rather pushed into this job, and takes the glamour and action in his stride, he retains a strong and immovable affection for his dreary old homestead, and that is the true love of the story – his affection for the country-side and desire to walk “feather-footed through the plashy fen.” William says no – and he’s such a blah character that it truly surprises and delights when he does.

At one stage he purports to be in love with a woman – she does him out of a load of money and a boat, in which he helps her and her husband escape. It’s not as noble as it sounds! Each and every character in this story is out for themselves. If they can’t see past their nose, why ought we invest?

SCOOP has memorable caricatures – larger-than-life, humorous, and distinctive, but they are there to portray ideas, not to have their own agency and accountability and foibles. They run around building and holding in place Waugh’s ideas, they exist to show the deftness of his pen, they are satire, they are text.

Writing

Brilliant as always, and makes the reader wish that Waugh’s themes and characters were as wonderful and satisfying as his prose.

“The immense trees which encircled Boot Magna Hall, shaded its drives and rides, and stood (tastefully disposed at the whim of some forgotten, provincial predecessor at Repton), singly and in groups about the park, had suffered, some from ivy, some from lightening, some from the various malignant disorders that vegetation is heir to, but all principally from old age. Some were supported with trusses and crutches of iron, some were filled with cement; some, even now, in June, could show only a handful of green leaves at their extremities. Sap ran thin and slow; a gutsy night always brought down a litter of dead timber.”

Now who else is going to describe a group of trees so well? Not only are they so very clear to picture, he has given them history, and in doing the history of the house, the family, and possibly the decaying aristocracy itself. I bet the fields are thick with meadowsweet and all!

Waugh has lots of fun with the journalistic jargon; the idea that an article must have news, but to sell, it must have colour – love that term: it must have some literary merit, some artistic verve, really appeal to the reader. Elsewhere William keeps getting increasingly frantic and mysteriously coded cables from the newspaper offices in London, going to despair because he’s not providing any stories he promised and running up enormous bills. Finally he manages: “Please don’t worry quite safe and well in fact rather enjoying things weather improving will cable again if there’s any news Yours Boot.” And later “Nothing much has happened except the president who has been imprisoned in his own palace.” The downplaying is so dry and delightful. I wish I knew what was going on. Maybe that’s the point!

[thegreatnyehehe]

A Winter Veil Carol: Part 4

Oh, how tragic that was, children! Just when this fiendish fellow is just learning something of compassion, his mentor in good morality is forced to take his final bow! But what a hook to leave off on! We’re coming upon the end of the novel, children, and I should only hope it’s not the end for our fiendish fellow here! 

But then again, how can we find that out if we don’t read on? Let’s get to it, then!

Alone in the night, with the last dying embers of the second spirit being carried off by the wind, The Great Nyehehe wiped the fresh tears from his face. Sighing, he was about to begin composing himself to walk himself back home, to his ‘Evil Lair’ of a rat-infested nook within Stormwind’s streets, when a a purple mist enveloped the graveyard. From this mist, a boney figure cloaked in a black hood and wielding a simple farmer’s scythe twisted and contorted itself into being. It had no visible eyes, but it’s fleshless head was twisted down to his direction.

Terror-stricken, The Great Nyehehe mustered all of his strength to stammer out “A-Are you the spirit of Winter Veil left to c-come?”

The spirit bowed wordlessly.

“Spirit, The Great Nyehehe is horrified by your presence more than any other spectre" he choked out, “But he knows that... that... it is for his welfar... his redemption... He is prepared to follow... and to learn."

The spirit remained motionless, staring at this funny little man cowering before him.

Stuttering frantically, Nyeh fell to his knees. “Will you not speak to The Great Nyehehe, spirit? P-Please?”

The spirit held his eyeless gaze with Nyeh as he began to shuffle off, the dark miasma trailing around him.

“Nyes, nyes... The evening is waning fast... Morning soon... Lead on, spirit.” he faltered as he rushed to get himself up, scurrying at a safe distance close to- but just far away enough from- the spirit. They turned a corner out of the graveyard that usually lead to the city’s docks when the usual laws of physics were in effect, but instead the spirit’s miasma clouded Nyeh’s vision fully.

When all cleared up from his eyesight, his feet were still walking as though they had never used any teleportation trick at all, they were in some shady side-alley of Old Town that Nyeh tended to avoid. He didn’t avoid this particularly alley of the roughest part of town due to its undousable smell of rotting meat, nor due to its seedy, equally rotten denizens who were prone to hate, berate, and occasionally attempt to mutilate him so, but solely due to the high population of those pesky, predatorious felines prying about and clawing at his poor rats.

With no rats to comfort him or to excuse him from entering such a place, Nyeh followed through with the spirit cautiously, when they happened upon a trio of dandy-looking Gilnean gentlemen. The spirit hauntingly motioned to their direction with a nod, and Nyeh obliged his eyes to take a look.

“Nah, I don’t know much ‘bout it either way. I only know he’s dead!” one said rather matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah? When?” another asked indifferently.

“Last night, I believe. I thought he’d never go!” scoffed the most wolfish of the three.

“Well, I don’t know nor care how he died, really. It’s likely to be a cheap funeral!” the first joked.

“I don’t know a single soul who would go.” the second remarked.

The top-hatted Wrogen grinned, commenting “I wouldn’t mind goin’,” which was met by his two companions with arrogant “Eh wot?” and a befuddled “Oh?”

“If lunch was provided!” cackled the Worgen, finishing his joke. And then they, all three of them, joined together for a good hollering fit of laughter and howling as they strolled down the road for some ale at the Golden Keg. 

“The Great Nyehehe knew some of those aristocretins, spirit... Of what mortal... no... what man could they be speaking of so cruelly and so loosely?” pleaded Nyeh for an answer. The spirit remained silent, and shuffled further down the ghastly road. They turned into a very seedy pawnstore of which The Great Nyehehe had once been kicked out of for criticizing its possibly illicit wares for not being quite illicit enough for his standards.

Inside were four chatting figures. Sitting at the counter was the aforementioned shopkeeper known only as Old Bogrim, as eagerly enthusiastic about making his underhanded business as usual.

“Oh? Back from that fool’s ‘Evil-Lair’, I see. Well, let’s see what you’ve got for Old Bogrim, eh? What do you have for me to remember him by, hmm? Good ‘ol Topper McNabb! Whatcha’ got?” spoke Old Bogrim with the tongue of a used Turbo-Trike salesman and the hungry-looking eyes of a ravenous Worgen as he snapped his fingers to the scruffy human before him. 

“Me? Ah, well I got his... er... staff!” piped up McNabb rather dumbly.

“That so? Hmmm...” he muttered as he was handed the staff to study it, “Rather poorly made... not much magical potential... Might literally be just a gnarled staff that old fool liked to flail around... but ach! Old Bogrim is nothing if not sentimental. Two copper, Topper.” Old Borgrim rummaged into his pockets for a moment before tossing two coins to the crook’s hands.

“I’ve got ‘is moustache waxing tonic!” cackled the twenty-seventh seemingly spontaneously generating Night Elf assassin with an unexplained Gilnean accent and fully black hide armor Borgrim had encountered that morning, “Blimey, wot a beaute! This oughtta cost a good few coins, considering it was the only thing 'e took care ‘o about ‘imself was that moustache he had!” She handed the bottle to the shopkeeper firmly, her one eye not covered by an unnecessary eye patch steadily focused on Old Borgrim. 

“Moustache waxing tonic, eh?” grunted Old Borgrim as he poured a dab onto his finger to apply to his own bushy ‘stache. “Of decent quality... good, actually! Might have to use it myself. Good find, elf. One silver.” he grunted, then handing a shiny coin from his gloved hand to her own, far more carefully than he did with McNabb.

“And I’ve got his...” yipped a sickly green Leper Gnome, of whom Old Borgrim didn’t realize had entered due to his height, before he realized he never actually checked what the scroll he nabbed actually was.

“Oh! Oh? When did you get in, you wee bugger? You got something for yourself from the madman’s misery, too?” asked Old Borgrim as he dipped his head over his counter to view his customer.

“I’ve got his autographed ‘The Flapstreet Boys’ poster!” the irritated thing yapped cheerfully, having never heard of the exquisite band.

“Ach! Now that is priceless!” joked Old Borgrim with an obvious air of cruel sarcasm, “I don’t think I can, with a full conscience, give you even all of the gold in my bank for that a hundred times over and still not feel like I’m practically stealing it from you! Har har!”

At this, all three of them burst into a fit of hysterics, chortling, cackling, and giggling. Truthfully, the Leper Gnomes, in the least, had no real idea why he and everyone else was laughing like so, but just did so to fit in. 

The spirit slid back unnaturally out of the shop, Nyeh trailing behind him. “The Great Nyehehe understands, spirit, that the case of this wretched man may be that of The Great Nyehehe’s.... Spirit, he pleads of you, show him some tenderness within this world. Take him to Bozo Cratchcrank’s house!! Nyes!! It would be most magnificent to see some Winter Veil cheer!!”

The spirit nodded, shuffling off. Nyeh scurried close enough to him as they turned a corner, one that usually would lead out of Old Town.

As his sight was engulfed by the purple miasma once more, he nearly walked right into the brick wall of the Cratchcrank’s house, being that he was so discombobulated. It was the gladdest he ever was to just nearly walk into a brick wall, and at the Bozo Cratchcrank walking down the road, his eagerness only increased. “It’s Bozo Cratchcrank’s house!! And there’s Bozo Cratchcrank!!"

Only when he noticed that Bozo was sulking and sniffling, his head bowed, did he realize something was amiss.“Spirit, what’s wrong? Why is Bozo...” Nyeh pleaded for an answer uselessly.

The spirit remained wordless and turned to hover over to their dirty window. Nyeh shuffled on behind him to pry on the Cratchcranks’s current state.

Poor Bozo could only choke out “Hello, d-dears. Merry W-Winter Vei-” before breaking out into bawling. Ms. Cratchcrank and their daughters, whom had been trying their best throughout the day to remain emotionally strong and dry of eye, had nearly immediately given in to join Bozo in his weeping. For a long minute, the family had allowed themselves to mourn the now-empty stool by the Winter Veil tree. 

The Great Nyehehe, in all his stupidity, blinding cruelty, and lack of useful social skills, could easily tell of whom they were bawling about, but Ms. Cratchcrank’s sorrowful wail of “Oh, poor Tiny Tib!” confirmed it. With wet eyes, he whimpered to the spirit, “Are these the shadows of things that will be, or or are they the shadows of things that may be only?”

The spirit remained motionless, as taciturn as a corpse, but continued to look to the old fool hauntingly.

“These events can be changed!!” Nyeh protested fiercely, speaking to the spirit almost as much as he was speaking to himself.

“A life may be made right!!” he roared.

The spirit stood still for another moment, gazing into Nyeh’s very soul even without any pupils, but then turned to shuffle down the road. 

“Spirit!! Tell The Great Nyehehe!! He begs y-” he barked in asking, rushing on to him. Forgetting the spirit’s preferred method of travel, he was momentarily surprised by the purple gas cloud enveloping him, stumbling a bit when he realized that they were elsewhere, somewhere familiar, but entirely different.

The Great Nyehehe looked around, in awe and fright of where he was. The ever-present gloom and the town’s architectural style, of which he could see faintly from the mass graveyard they were in at the moment, were vastly different to what he used to know, but he made no mistake of where they were.  “Brill...” he mumbled, “It looks so... dead...”

He turned to the spirit, fretting every moment he remained there, “Spirit...” he began to whimper. The spirit hauntingly rose a boney finger, pointing to a grave in response, rendering Nyeh silent.

Shuffling and shambling to the tombstone, Nyeh did as he was directed to. Nearly falling over, he wiped away a bit of grime off the stone. He read what the grime disclosed, and was nearly petrified, stumbling over on his back, for on the the epigraph etched crudely into the stone read ‘The Great Nyehehe’.

“Oh, please. Spriit, nyet.” he wailed, as he begged on his knees.

The spirit was undeterred by the old fool’s pleas.

“H-Hear The Great Nyehehe’s words, he was not the man he was.” he pleaded.

The spirit did not stir.

“Why would you show this to The Great Nyehehe  if he was past all hope?“ he demanded, almost bawling.

The spirit did not stir.

“T-The Great Nyehehe... will honour Winter Veil  and try to keep it all the year... he will live his life in the past, the present, and the future...” choked out, clutching the spirit’s half-corporeal robes.

  The spirit did not stir.

“H-He will not shut out the lessons the spirits have t-taught him...“ he stuttered

 The spirit did not stir.

“Tell The Great Nyehehe that he may etch out the writings upon the stone...” he whimpered.

The spirit did not stir.

“Oh, spirit. Please speak. Say something, spirit!!” Nyeh wailed in distress.

The spirit finally stirred. He clutched the scythe he had been leading on with both of his spidery hands, rising it in the air. With a swift blow, he sliced the old fool, a deep incision etched down from his neck to his chest. “*Ack!*” the wretch cried to deaf ears. The soil before the grave erupted open, and when the wound forced Nyeh’s blood-gushing body to stumble back, he right into it. 

The spirit looked on unsympathetically, still clutching his scythe.

And The Great Nyehehe fell into the bottomless grave, wailing in pain and in terror, the dark soil and dirt fading into blurry images of burning flame, molten lava, and cruel, twisted faces mocking his misery. Bright, red-orange fire was, after quite a long time of falling, finally allowed to consume him.

[thatonekawaiigirl13]

Who Said Death Was Easy? Death Note [Chapter Eight]

Chapter Eight: Debriefing 

[A/N: Wow, this is the longest chapter yet lmao, there was just so much...just a warning! Anyway, please let me know what you guys think! Any comments, whether positive or negative, are always welcome!]

Keiko’s POV:

Keiko stared out the window of the car, looking around at all the buildings and people that they passed on the way from To-Oh University to this secret and supposedly secure location.

She paid little mind to the man sitting beside her, Taro Matsui, who appeared to be occupying himself by attacking a loose thread on his suit.

Instead, she busied herself by thinking of all the questions she had she wanted answers to. She was also thinking about, in the worst case scenario, ways to try and escape. It was just in case this Taro Matsui wasn’t who he said he was. He didn’t look that tough, and Keiko was sure that, if need be, she could take him on pretty easily.

After a few more minutes of driving around the city, the car came to a halt in front of a luxurious looking hotel. The driver, a tall old man with a white moustache and glasses, got out of the car, and held the door open for Keiko.

She stepped out of the car, Taro Matsui following close behind her.

“Why are we at a hotel? Wait...there’s not going to be any funny business, is there?” Keiko demanded, her arms crossed against her chest defensively, “you said-”

“No, no,” Matsui interrupted, and awkwardly laughed, “uh, it’s nothing like that, I promise you. It’s just...this is the safest location for us right now. One of my bosses decided that, due to recent events, the safest meeting place would be at hotels, rather than the police station itself.”

She sighed, letting her arms fall back down, “if you say so. I guess I have no choice but to trust you. However, you’re dead if you’re lying to me.”

Matsui just shook his head in response, “I swear, on my honor as a policeman, no harm will come to you.”

With that, the old man led the two of them inside the hotel and checked in at the front desk.

“Ah, yes, the master suite, room 507,” the receptionist said, handing the room key over, “I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

Keiko followed in silence as the three of them made their way towards the elevator. The elder man led the way. Once they had arrived on the fifth floor, he turned to Keiko and Matsui and said, “please excuse me, I know she is probably harmless, but we must still follow protocol. Ryuzaki’s orders. Matsui-san,” he nodded towards the younger man, “check her.”

“W-wha-?” Keiko choked out. Matsui gave her an apologetic smile, his face turning a little red as he frisked her. It was clear that he was somewhat flustered as he roughly passed his hands over her body, and he accidentally grazed her chest with his hand a little longer than was necessary, earning him a glare from Keiko.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out before continuing on with his search.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you are. Search me however you want, I guarantee you won’t find anything suspicious,” Keiko grumbled as Matsui reached for her back next, quickly searching through its contents.

“I also have to ask that you turn off your cell phone,” he added, and Keiko reached into her pockets, pressing the button to turn off her phone. It gave a little chirp before shutting down.

“Anything else?” she asked him, she was clearly a little annoyed. He shook his head, still looking through her bag. Once he was thoroughly satisfied, he handed her bag back to her and gestured at the elder man to open the door.

It was the grandest hotel room that Keiko had ever been in, with four couches arranged in a square shape near the middle of what appeared to be the living room right in front of her. In the middle of the couches, there was a fancy looking end table.

“Sit, sit,” the older man told Keiko, gesturing over to one of the couches, and he told Matsui to stay with him for a moment to be briefed.

Keiko eyed the two men she was with wearily, but she still listened, and sat down. The two of them lingered by the door, speaking in soft, hushed tones.

She strained to hear them.

“Ryuzaki is on his way over from the university, he wanted to do a little more looking around before coming,” she overheard the older man say to the younger one, “he will be here shortly. Until then, he has instructed you to keep our guest comfortable while I set things up.”

“Understood,” she heard Matsui reply, and she quickly turned her head back when she saw Matsui was heading back in her direction.

She fiddled with her fingernails, trying to act as natural and composed as possible. However, on the inside, she was bursting with curiosity and the thought of having to wait even longer for answers was killing her.

So this Ryuzaki person was at the university, eh? The only university that makes sense in this case is To-Oh. It would appear that this Ryuzaki is the same one that Matsui was talking with on the phone earlier. If he was at the university, why didn’t he just talk to Matsui in person? Maybe it would’ve looked too suspicious...either way, he can’t be L, I doubt he would willingly show his face, especially now with Kira on the loose. So this Ryuzaki is probably some high up policeman, or...perhaps another investigator, and if he is, there’s a chance he could be working with L. He’d better get here soon...

“Uh, would you like anything to drink?” Matsui asked her while shyly ruffling his hair, breaking her away from her thoughts, “I was going to grab a water bottle myself.”

“Water is fine, thanks,” Keiko replied.

She watched as Matsui grabbed two water bottles from the mini fridge, passing one of the bottles over to her as he sat down. She opened the bottle, taking a sip as she surveyed the room once more. Behind them, she saw the older man sorting through what she suspected were police files, a laptop was open nearby.

“That’s Watari,” Matsui explained to her, “he’s, like, an assistant of sorts.”

Keiko nodded, “I see.”

The room got quiet, aside from the shuffling of papers behind them. Matsui already seemed at a loss for words, and she suspected he was only quiet because he wasn’t sure what he could or couldn’t reveal to her yet.

After a while, Matsui gave a little chuckle, finally daring to break the silence, “that entrance exam today must have been pretty difficult.”

Resorting to small talk, I see...

“I’m sure by now you’ve done enough research on me to know that I’m smart enough to have passed it, easily,” Keiko replied tartily, “and I’m sure I did pass.”

“Right, because you’re at the top of your class, same as Light-” he suddenly stopped, realizing he had said too much and his face turned pale again. Keiko’s eyebrows shot up.

Light? Have they been following him too?...wait a second...we’re waiting for Ryuzaki to arrive from the university...that weird guy that was staring at Light during the entrance exam...could it be? Could he be this mysterious Ryuzaki? He looked like he’s younger than this Matsui, though, if it’s him then he has to be smart, smarter than I am.

“Interesting,” Keiko gave a curt laugh, “you were also tailing Light, weren’t you? If not you, someone else from the police force or some other agency.”

Matsui gulped, and all of the sudden, there was a beeping noise.

Heh, look at him, saved by the beep. For now.

“Ryuzaki is here,” Watari announced, getting up from his spot. Keiko watched with an ardent interest as Watari opened up the door, revealing the guy she had seen earlier during To-Oh’s entrance exam.

So I was right...who is he? He’s so young, he has to be really intelligent.

He glided into the room, his eyes flickering from Watari to Matsui, and finally, to Keiko. He flashed her the same lazy smile he gave earlier as he sat down on one of the couches. Watari set the laptop and the files on the table in front of him.

“Kagami Keiko, you’re a third year at Daikoku Private Academy. You are in second place as far as rankings go, behind Yagami Light, whom you appear to be rather close with. You do not care to raise your rank, you do not mind that you lost to Light. Instead you are glad that you don’t have the burden of being rank one. Your two closest girl friends are Shunsuki Akito and Matsumoto Maki. Your ex boyfriend is Nakumura Daicho, and from my research, the two of you dated for about six months, however he was cheating on you with another girl. In my opinion, you were too naive to see the signs, but I digress. It appears you’ve been on multiple dates since then, but you haven’t seriously dated anyone, aside from Light recently. Your father, the late Kagami Hiro, was a highly sought out private investigator and detective. It would appear that you want to follow in his footsteps, and you keep track of cases in a special notebook. Right now you are currently trying to keep up with the Kira investigation as best you can while dating Light and keeping up with your social life and your school work.”

Keiko gave a little uncomfortable cough, Ryuzaki ignored her, continuing on, “as I suspected, you knew right away that someone was following you. However, you kept it to yourself, not wanting to appear crazy or suspicious to those around you. You are curious as to why someone would be following you, and you suspect it has to do with the fact that you are investigating the Kira case. You must have assumed that I am some sort of policeman or another investigator that is close to L, thinking that L would not be willing to show his face. You are well aware he is also working with the Japanese police force. You know that people call me Ryuzaki and that I, too, took the To-Oh entrance exams earlier today. You also assume that I am investigating Light, and I will say, you are correct about that.”

How the hell?! Who exactly is this guy? He’s torturing me like this on purpose!

Ryuzaki gave a laugh, sensing Keiko’s ever growing curiosity, “hmmm...while you were right about most things, you were wrong about something, though, Keiko-chan.”

Keiko shifted slightly, irritation bubbling inside her now, “and what, pray tell, was I wrong about?”

He leaned in, his eyes never once leaving Keiko’s as he replied, “the thought never crossed your mind that I could be L simply because you assumed that it wasn’t possible, knowing full well how secretive L is.”

He smirked at her as he added, “however, you were wrong because...I am L.”

Keiko’s eyes widened, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. She almost felt like she could have toppled over from shock, “y-y-you’re...L?!”

“Yes, I am L. You see, Ryuzaki is an alias I am using while investigating the Kira case. It’s for my own protection,” he explained.

Keiko let his words sink in a moment, the wheels in her mind turning. As shocked as she was, she was now even more curious.

L, the great detective that I look up to, is him? L willingly showed his face to me? What is this? Is he pulling my leg? He can’t really be L, can he? There’s no way...also, he’s so young...I didn’t think L was this young, for some reason, I had always imagined an older man. If this man is really L, then he’s a lot younger and much more attractive than I thought he was, even with those eyebags of his. Which says a lot, I guess.

Matsui nodded, suddenly cutting in, “it’s true, he really is the great detective. Taro Matsui is an alias that I am using as well. We’ve deduced from watching you that you aren’t Kira, so I think it would be okay if I told you my real name now. I am Touta Matsuda. Sorry for deceiving you, I am really a cop, though!”

Keiko glanced over at him, she had gotten so distracted by Ryuzaki’s confession that she forgot there were other people in the room.

A fake name, eh? That’s pretty smart. That way, they have extra protection against Kira. Otherwise, there’s a strong chance Kira would be able to eliminate them...and anyway, so this is really L. The L. And he was investigating me, of all people! What the hell?!

“While yes, we did deduce that she is not Kira, it is still unwise to give out your real name. However, I suppose, as long as she is not Kira, then it’s fine,” Ryuzaki commented with a little bit of a snarky undertone, which made Matsuda shrink a little bit.

“This is all so crazy, you know that right? What do Light and I have to do with the Kira investigation exactly? Did you really suspect I could be Kira? Or Light, for that matter?” Keiko asked, focusing her attention back on who she now knew was L.

“Patience, Keiko-chan. The others will be arriving any second now. We will begin as soon as they get here,” L responded.

There are others coming? Ugh, so far instead of getting answers, all I’m getting are even more questions. And, if they also followed Light, why am only I here? There has to be a reason he isn’t here. Do they still suspect him of being Kira? Why do they even suspect him in the first place?

A few seconds later, as if on cue, there was another beep. Watari once again got up to open the door. There were five people in total that walked in, and Keiko realized that one of them was Light’s father. While she had never officially met him, the resemblance was uncanny, and she remembered that Light once mentioned his father was the chief of police.

She could only assume that the rest of the men that walked in were police officers under the chief’s command.

The five of them sat down on the couches, and Keiko watched as Light’s father glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

One of the officers started to introduce himself but L cut him off, “she knows the name you were about to give her is a fake, Aizawa-san. Matsuda already gave out his real name, so I suppose you guys should follow suit at this point. We’re safe here anyway. She also knows I’m really L.”

He paused, looking over at Keiko, “I feel you already know this but, when out in public, if you see them you must refer to them with their alias and not their real name. However, when we are all together in private like this, using their real name should be fine.”

Following L’s orders, the policemen introduced themselves to Keiko one by one.

Light’s father went last, “I have been wanting to meet you,” he said, “but not like this. It’s too late to change anything now, though. I must say, I was skeptical of my son dating at first, but after finding out more about you, and given your background and academic standing, I think you and my son are quite compatible as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Keiko gave a shy smile, “Thank you, Yagami-san. Though, to be honest, Light hasn’t officially asked me out or anything, we’ve just been on a few dates. So, you see, I’m technically not his girlfriend...”

“Anyway,” L interrupted rather loudly, before any more conversation could go on between the two of them, “since we are done with introductions, I’d like to begin now. What I have learned from my investigation of you is that you are not Kira. While you are intelligent enough, you are also naive, and you do not share Kira’s childish nature. I got a clear sense of what you feel is right and wrong when I learned about your own personal Kira investigation. There is also the fact that you cannot be Kira because Kira has a close connection to the police, if you had any link to police files, I would have found it by now. There’s no way that you would have left a clean trail....anyway, I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here and why I am telling you all this…well, Keiko-chan, to be blunt, while you’ve been cleared of suspicion, there’s still a chance that Light Yagami is Kira.”

“Ryuzaki, you know I don’t like you talking about my son that way!” Mr. Yagami bellowed out, “besides, I thought you said he was cleared of all suspicions, like Kagami-san. When you mentioned bringing in Keiko into the Task Force, I thought you said it was because of her investigative skills, not because you still suspect Light!”

L gave a small smile, “well, honestly, it was both. And you see, just because Light didn’t do anything suspicious when we were watching him doesn’t mean he isn’t Kira...he could have been misleading us on purpose. Though, I guess the chances of him being Kira went down about 2 or 3% from my original percentage.”

Keiko let out a breath, “let me get this straight. You were tailing the both of us, me because of my relationship with Light and because of who my father was, knowing full well that I intend to be just like my father as a detective. While watching me, you came to the correct conclusion that I am not Kira, however, you still suspect Light. Bringing me into the investigation would benefit you, so you decided to do just that. Basically, you want me to get close to Light on purpose and spy on him for you is my best guess.”

“Bingo,” L said, “I knew you’d catch on quickly.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Keiko replied, “you seriously believe that Light is Kira...okay, fine, let me get in your shoes and think for a moment. You probably suspect Light because of who his father is, and you know that he would be capable to get police information but smart enough to cover his tracks. I deduced that, at first, you suspected that Kira was a student, but right after you came to that conclusion the times of the killings changed, and Light would have had access to that information. But L-er, I’m sorry, Ryuzaki, tell me, what other reason do you have to suspect him? He wouldn’t be the only one with connections and access to top secret information, you know that.”

Ryuzaki reached for some papers on the table, handing them to Keiko, “why, I must say, that’s rather impressive. I never released to the public that I suspected Kira was a student at first, but you still managed to catch on...anyway, the truth is, right now, there isn’t that much more reason than that. Now hear me out, isn’t it a little too suspicious that the times of the killings changed so suddenly after I made my deduction? It’s just a feeling at this point, and I know he isn’t the only one with connections. However these are the facts; Light clearly has access to police records, not only that, as he also wants to follow in his father’s footsteps, that means he must have a strong sense of justice. Kira also has a strong sense of justice, in his own twisted way, that is. On another note, how about you look through those papers?”

Keiko rifled through the papers a moment, realizing that they were files of FBI agents, and she recognized one, Raye Penber. She gasped once she saw that he was listed as deceased. In fact, all the agents were listed as deceased. They were killed off by heart attacks, each and every one of them, “w-what’s this?”

“Ah, are you done looking through that?” L asked her, “I doubt you would have known this, seeing as it was top secret information, so I thought I would allow you to leaf through the papers before explaining. Truthfully, before I started showing my face to this small group, I had to ensure that none of them were Kira. How does one investigate members of the Japanese police force? They must bring in an outside source. I had the FBI investigate the police force and their family members, I was tailing them, much like I had Matsuda tail you this last week. However, as you can see, all of the FBI agents I had investigating ended up being murdered by Kira. This led me to deduce that someone I was investigating had to be Kira. While I realize I have no solid proof of this, the one I suspected the most out of those suspected with Light Yagami. He was one of the last people to be tailed before they were all murdered, actually.”

Keiko’s eyes widened upon hearing this, and she could feel a knot starting to form in her stomach. She was almost worried that she was going to be sick.

For a moment, she was reliving the bus jacking with Light. She could hear the hijacker’s screams about the monster at the back of the bus, the bus tires squealing as the bus came to a stop, and finally, she could hear the sick sound his body made upon impact when the car hit him.

Oh god...there’s no way the two could be connected, right? Wait… stop for a moment and think, Kira kills with a heart attack, if Light were really Kira, wouldn’t he have killed the bus jacker then and there with one? The hijacker was hit by a car, he didn’t have a heart attack, there’s no way...it can’t be. But the FBI agents…no what am I thinking? Just because Light was one of the last people to be investigated doesn’t prove anything, there were a lot of people that the agents were following, not just Light…should I tell them about the bus jacking? Or would that make me look more suspicious? However, if I tell them about it, that would lead to a lot more explaining on my end, and I’m here for my questions to be answered, not to be questioned myself. Unless it appears that I absolutely should tell them about it, I’ll keep quiet. Besides, I’ve only just met them.

Keiko sighed, and took another sip of her water bottle, trying to calm herself down. She had to try and keep her cool, especially if she wanted to make a good impression with L and not let on that she was hiding something.

Luckily for her, it wasn’t too suspicious that she was overwhelmed. She was being thrown a lot of information all at once, so it was perfectly within the realm of possibility for her to be a little shocked.

“Keiko, I know this is a lot, but there’s more I need to tell you, so please try and stay focused,” Ryuzaki said, taking the papers back from her side of the table.

He moves on way too fast...but I suppose, in this investigation, a fast pace must be maintained in order to achieve maximum efficiency. However, is he always this emotionless when talking about evidence? He gave me a list of dead FBI agents like it was nothing…

She swallowed hard. As if sensing how she must have been feeling, a couple members of the Task Force told her that it would get better, that she would get used to the way that Ryuzaki acted and ran things.

Ryuzaki started up again, “this leads me to my last point. Due to my increased suspicions of Light, I had wire taps and video cameras placed in the Yagami household. Now this wasn’t the only household I bugged, but it was the one that I focused on the most. To protect privacy, it was only the chief and I who watched over the Yagami household. It was during this time period he and I first noticed you and Light were hanging around each other. A couple days after things were set in place, Light had you over for the first time to study with him. He also had you over a couple other nights while we were investigating him.”

The chief gave an uncomfortable little cough. Keiko couldn’t stop a light blush from spreading on her cheeks as she realized that meant that both L and Light’s father bore witness to Light and Keiko kissing that night, and all the other nights she had been over there. Those nights with Light felt oddly private to her, and to realize that they weren’t actually private, well, it was like Keiko was being broadcasted on a t.v. show that she didn’t audition for.

L continued on, as if realizing her thoughts, “yes, that means we saw you two kissing. Don’t be embarrassed, that sort of behavior is normal for two teenagers that are interested in each other...but the fact remains for me that, while being watched, Light seemed almost too normal. It was like he was putting on a show on purpose, like he knew he was being watched-”

“Are you suggesting that Light only had me over to prove his innocence of him not being Kira? That he only took me out on dates, and had me over, for this reason?” Keiko demanded, “you must admit, that sounds rather absurd. It can’t be true.”

The chief nodded his head in agreement, “Ryuzaki, you can’t be serious.”

“On the contrary, I am quite serious. I realize that I sound absurd but that is that is exactly what I’m suggesting,” Ryuzaki looked over at her, and Keiko had no doubt in her mind that he was trying to gauge her reaction. She bit her lip. The knot in her stomach was growing, while L’s accusation was far fetched, the investigative side of her couldn’t entirely ignore it.

“Keiko-chan, don’t worry, I’m sure Light’s not Kira, so there would be no reason for him to lead you on like that,” Matsuda commented, offering Keiko a smile. Keiko attempted to smile back, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“While I hope Matsuda is right for once in his life, I still cannot ignore the fact that Light Yagami is still suspicious to me,” Ryuzaki replied, “Kagami-san, please think this over. If you are anything like your father, your gut is telling you the same thing; you cannot ignore the possibility, however small it may be, that he might be Kira. I know you probably have some feelings for Light, I am not asking you to rethink those feelings, rather to just consider the possibility of him being Kira and keep a more watchful eye on him, all the while reporting back to me, of course. Also, should you choose to help us out with the investigation, a fake name and identification card will be given to you as well, for your own protection.”

“Ryuzaki,” Ukita started, “don’t you think you shouldn’t have dragged her into this? You’re asking a bit too much of her, I think.”

“I agree,” Mr. Yagami commented, “it feels wrong to ask Light’s own girlfriend to spy on him. Perhaps, detective skills or not, you shouldn’t have brought her here today.”

“I think we should ask Keiko-chan what she thinks, after all, in the the end, it’s her choice to make. Also, remember chief, she mentioned earlier that Light never officially asked her out, so technically she isn’t his girlfriend yet, but I suspect he will make things official soon. Otherwise, it would look even more suspicious on his end,” Ryuzaki said, “also, you also can’t deny her skill. She would be an effective member of the task force, and would be free to come and go as her schedule allowed her, of course. Let’s not forget either that she was keeping track of the Kira case as best as she could by herself, and while she didn’t have access to the same information we did, she still came up with some of the same conclusions.”

The fact was, now that L had told her his reasoning, it would be in the back of her mind no matter what. It would haunt her until she could prove L wrong. If she could. She was unsure how to proceed.

All eyes were on Keiko. She swallowed hard, her mind still trying to process things, “I think...I…”

She was unable to properly form words, and instead, opted for another drink of her water.

“Let’s not rush her,” Ryuzaki said, looking Keiko over slowly. “In fact, I think it would be best if we waited a couple more days before hearing her decision. So, Keiko-chan,” he continued on, staring straight into her eyes, “I think this is it for now, but trust me, we’ll be in touch.”

Keiko nodded, still unable to speak. She needed some time to think, that was for sure.

I was right, death is following me, haunting me now in more ways than one. When I started investigating the Kira case, I never imagined I would actually have a chance to get this deep into it. I never imagined that something like this would happen to me...Light couldn’t possibly be Kira...could he?

Chapter Seven

Chaper Nine

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I've been to Wildwood. The Jersey Shore is crazy in general but wildwood is next level. The board walk has like 200 of the same t-shirt store, feels like you're walking through the fires of hell, and is jam packed with kids on camp trips. I've only ever done the board walk there but I've seen the walk you have to take to get out to the beach, it's insane. I can only imagine what it's like with family. How old are your cousins and what are they like?

My family has literally been coming to Wildwood every year since, like, at LEAST the 1930’s, I’m not sure on anyone earlier than that, and my family is insane, so let’s dive into this.

The Main Characters In My Life On Vacation Are:

-My Grandmother, who was a child dancer star (she tapped on the radio!) who’s been coming down here her whole life- her parents used to come down the same day there would be a talent show, enter her in it, and then use her first prize reward for the money they’d spend throughout the week. Has been in the old person stage of “I’m an elder, who cares what I say or do” for the past 15 years. Has eight living kids and Too Many Descendants. Loud and refuses to admit she can’t walk half the time.

- My Mother, who gets confused very easily, overshares and breaks off into meaningless tangents in the middle of stories, snores like a literal demon, always wants to be asleep, keeps pushing for family activities, doesn’t realize all the kids think she’s lame.

- Me, who is always Extra Depressed in the summer months, and is the Sole Person In This Family My Age- everyone just stopped having babies for a few years when my mother decided to have me (Everyone is either over 25 or under 16). Because of this I’m usually confined to my room, unable to really do anything on the boardwalk because going on rides alone is depressing and my mother has heart problems. Just wants to read and write, but the children keep Screaming.

- My Aunt and Her Husband- A Very Loud Couple, she likes to control everything and he’s the only one who ever bothers to yell back at her. They always fight exactly once, every year, and every year somehow I always end up being the only other person in the apartment while its happening, so I just have to sit in awkward silence until my aunt finally huffs out “I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of my goddaughter!” and storms out to go find her kids. They make a lot of jokes and think their children are very dramatic.

- Jenna, the 14 year old cousin. Very dramatic. Mastered the art of the eye roll at a young age. Has literally looked like a mini model since she was born. Can’t be bothered to deal with anyone. We usually have one (1) tiny girl-bonding moment each vacation and then she promptly acts like she doesn’t care even though it’s clear she does. Athletic and artistic and musically/theatrically gifted. Very sarcastic. Always doing cartwheels.

- Seanie, the 12 year old cousin. Middle child syndrome. Tries to hard to be funny for attention. VERY dramatic. Will cry at the drop of a dime (I’m typing this and I literally just heard him burst into tears in the other room??). Super adorable, you can tell he’s gonna be one of those high school boys that pulls Ridiculous Shit but after one charming smile the teachers can’t bring themselves to stay mad. Very loud. Currently addicted to video game youtubers.

-Zack, the 7 year old cousin. Adorable. Loud. Lowkey a prodigy child but they can’t afford to get him into Special Schools so he’s always bored in class. Baby Of The Family syndrome. Currently in an aggressive pokemon phase. Doesn’t understand he’s literally a child, he acts like an old man half the time.

We’re all shoved into a small apartment for a week, but there are Others:

- Kathy, Grandmom’s second oldest. Literally the most bland person I have ever encountered on this planet. Very, very into trying to plan ‘fun’ family events. Thinks any conversation is a riveting conversation.

- Kathy’s husband, who is just a plain old guy who’s lowkey a hoarder and jokes around a lot, but every time someone mentions his past or his family it gets more and more confusing??? He may have a brother who was in the CIA??? He may have been homeless or he may have lived with his sister???? He may have killed a man???? I literally know nothing concrete about this man other than he’s apparently been with my aunt since they were teens but I. D. K. Every new piece of information I receive just scatters the puzzle more.

- Their eldest daughter and her husband spend most of the summer down here but always make sure to match up the schedule for when we come down. Loud, energetic couple. I have no idea what either of them do for work? They might currently be unemployed? Really into alcohol. At some point in the week every year, everyone in my apartment bonds together to diss them after we get back from the beach. Like, they’ll do something or another EVERY YEAR that sets EVERYONE off.

- The 16 year old. Tries to show everyone memes on his phone. Never really talks to people. Does NOT get along with his parents because he’s kinda an outlier in the family. I feel like he might be a stoner, but if I find out he’s got a hidden gun collection, I wouldn’t be surprised? That probably sounds awful but he’s a good kid I promise.

- Danny, 12. Adorable. Quiet. Mini golden boy. Makes jokes when you aren’t expecting them. Very resigned to the fact he has to hug me and my mother when he sees us.

- Kathy and Mystery Man’s youngest daughter, a librarian, and her stand up comedian husband, and now their three month old who is ADORABLE and everyone was surprised to learn they hadn’t named her Hermione.

Other recurring family members are prone to popping up throughout the vacation- Aunt Margie, Grandmom’s sister-in-law, who, I love her, but remember that chocolate episode of spongebob with the old woman that was essentially a stick in a wheelchair and had a chain smoker voice??? Put that in the tiniest bikini you can imagine and add a wheezing laugh and you got her. Her daughter who I could not recognize on a street if I tried. Her son Michael, who is best friends with my mom and apparently Not Gay (no one’s really convinced). A step-cousin sometimes pops by, she’s very breezy and easy-going and you can’t distinguish her Actual Talking Voice with her Talking To Little Kids Voice.

Anyway, Wildwood itself is just. Goddamn ridiculous.

The aesthetic of this place is somewhere between the 1950’s, a trailer park, and the kind of developed land you get when a moustache-twirling man wants to convince all the old people he can to retire to his buildings. Some buildings are harsh metal, and others are bright pastels, but the only thing joining them together is the fact that it looks like no one has cleaned anything here in years. EVERYTHING, even the knew stuff, looks worn and faded. Even like…the AIR is faded. It’s not just the sun being too bright, everything you’re looking at looks like it’s an old photograph. If you stay too long, you might start to fade into the landscape yourself.

I have never once seen an animal that wasn’t a seagull here. Most towns, islands, places, whatever- you usually have at least squirrels running around, maybe some variations of birds, just. ANYTHING. But it’s all seagulls all the time. You cannot exist in a spot for longer than a few moments without one of them dive bombing you. They are not mere birds. They are feathered demons that Hath No Fear Of The Foolish Mortals Of Mankind.

The song “Wildwood Days” plays on the Boardwalk every half hour. It is the only way to appease the spirits. It’s the modern, New Jersey-ian version of painting lamb blood over your door frame. As much as I’ve grown to hate the song, to twitch and clench my fist at each note, I deeply fear for the day the song doesn’t play on time and the curse is unleashed. I have a deep, sinking feeling that this moment will come within my life time.

If You Don’t Stop To Watch The Fireworks, Your Bones Shall Never Be Found.

You hear the ongoing chant of “Watch the Tram Car, Please!”, and look around, but there isn’t a Tram Car coming. The order grows louder and louder. You realize you aren’t even on the Boardwalk any more. The sound is right behind you, but you can’t find the source. “Watch the Tram Car, Please!” you realize, to your horror, the sound is now coming from inside you. You never find your true voice again.

Despite The Fact That This Place Is A Mosh Pit Of Families From All Over The World, If You Can’t Immediately Place My Accent Or Figure Out What Language I’m Speaking, I Have Legal Grounds To Kill You.

The sand simply isn’t normal. It’s ADVANCED sand. It doesn’t make sense. It never truly washes off. The more you scrub, the more appears.

Ancient gods from multiple pantheons like to chill out on the beach, have a few beers. You never know for sure who is who, but you Know they aren’t the same as you, and you know they know more about you than you’re comfortable with. For your own sake, NEVER ask them to turn their music down.

There is always at least one plane flying over with a sign reading “Jen, will you marry Sean?”. It’s been decades. Will Jen ever say yes?

Elevators Are For The Weak And We Use Them To Judge Who To Do Away With First.

The ocean goes back and forth between green and grey, and you know the color makes a significant difference but you can never quite put your finger on what.

Fish Are Fake.

All the stores sell everything you want, but nothing you need.

King Kong Is Our Fierce Protector, Loving Hero, And Just Enforcer

All the police officers and firemen and general ‘in charge’ jobs seemed to be run completely by 18 years olds

No one truly knows who pulls the shots when it comes to deciding the Boardwalks style each year. Every store sells the same Designated Style, and each year they make less and less sense. You buy a specialized hoodie anyway, and you have no idea why.

I could keep going on with that list, but the point is, Wildwood is a Strange Place and I have a Ridiculous Family, so every year is always a bit of an experience.

Like, no one in my family really has anything in common other than everyone’s always loud and everyone’s always right and everyone is always ready to loudly fight over the fact that they’re definitely right, but like. Imagine crawling through some Hillbilly Murder Showers in the garage of a condo, using all of your force to pry open a suspiciously heavy and questionably mechanized door, walking under the boardwalk and trekking over sand dunes just to find a bunch of screaming yet physically relaxed people under the flag for Montserrat. Some guy’s cracking stand up jokes while no less than three children are fighting each other, your mother is promising for the 14th year in a row that you’re gonna go on a whale watching trip and everyone knows she’s lying, some woman’s trying to hold a conversation about buying applesauce in bulk while her husband and children get drunk, there’s a skinny pale guy with horrible sunburn blasting songs from N.W.A., a girl’s cartwheeling around the site to the point you think she doesn’t know how to move any other way, a boy’s quietly drinking pickle juice, there’s a 7 year old literally trapped in a giant hole that he dug, your mother is snoring loud enough to alarm the people around you, and just when you’re starting to get a little comfortable about the feathered demons and start to relax, a tide comes in so strongly your chair literally starts getting pulled out to sea with you in in. It’s average. It's fading into the landscape with the rest of the place.