#ive finished most of the setup so from here on out parts should be in chronological order! unless i forget something

[tipsheda]

My favorite games that I played in 2023 (and some thoughts)

Just want to give credit and love to all of the programmers, artists, voice actors, writers, playtesters, etc. who worked so hard to make these lovingly crafted video games for us to enjoy. I hope more unions will be able to pop up around the industry in the future, so that so many people don't have to unneedingly lose their jobs to appease shareholders.

Played MyHouse.wad on stream. I love a game that has so many layers to uncover. It was a blast to play through. Definitely my favorite experience of the year. Go into it as blind as you can. GZDoom is quite easy to setup. I should also mention this is my first time playing Doom II.

Played Resident Evil 4 (the original) for the first time this year. It still holds up and is now one of my favorite games. I enjoyed the tank controls. It felt good to get better at the movement and aiming system.

Picked up Tears of the Kingdom on launch day with some good friends and we all played together at the same time for a whole weekend. Then we just kept playing and sharing insights with each other for a whole couple months after. Great memories. I didn't even like Breath of the Wild as much as others, but this game added just the right elements to make me fall in love. Exploring the sky and depths was the best part of the game. Also, a fantastic ending. Would recommend at least finishing the main quests.

I think I've posted this multiple times, but here it is again. Street Fighter 6 got me into fighting games. World Tour mode hooked me as a non-fighting game player and taught me everything I needed to know for SF6 as well as a lot of fighting game fundamentals, which I can apply to other games. I've also been greatly enjoying watching all of the tournaments all over the world. Knowing how a game works and seeing masters at it battle it out is good fun.

I played a little Armored Core IV after I, like many others, did some research into From Software's other games. Wasn't hugely into it, but that didn't stop me from trying VI when it released and I'm glad I did. It's a fantastic blend of Souls-like mechanics with fast mech action. It lacked most of the exploration aspect of FromSoft's other games that I love, but it made up for it with fun as hell bosses, huge environments, and an enticing story.

Haven't finished Alan Wake II yet, so I can't say anything definitive, but it's a horror game with great presentation/editing and pacing. I didn't enjoy Control as much as I would have liked because of all the combat, but there's a lot less in this game, so I'm happy.

Played the two Far games this year for the first time. They work really well together. Would definitely recommend playing both together. I have a huge soft spot in my heart for games where you control a large vehicle freely from the inside. These have that and a ton of great atmosphere and environments.

I also haven't finished Lies of P, but so far, echoing what many others have said, it's just like playing a real FromSoft game with everything that entails. Only mark against it for me is that the level design feels a touch too linear compared to other Souls games. But maybe I'm just salty because I want more games like the first half of Dark Souls 1.

Also, a shout out to Beat Saber and the great mapping community around that game. I went to physical therapy this year and mostly fixed and strengthened my shoulders, so I was able to start playing Beat Saber regularly again and it's just so fun.

Thanks for reading. Hope everyone has some happy holidays, a great 2024, and a very merry Ceasefire in Gaza.

Honorable mentions:

Hollow Knight (2017)

Babbdi (2022)

Mars First Logistics

[youssefguedira]

<3<3<3 the joenicky diabolik au, hope you continue it!

thank you anon! glad you're enjoying it! and just for you, here is the next part (set after both previous ones), which is really just setting up some plot things, but enjoy anyway! (no nicky today, but he'll be back next time!) (tagging @eya-trying-to-function too)

other parts in the series:

[a prologue, of sorts] [part one] [part two] [you are here]

Despite the events of the night before, everything is still going to plan. If Di Genova is telling the truth - and Yusuf thinks he is, even if he has no real reason to - the paintings will be back where they belong, ready for the deal with Merrick. Then Yusuf will be able to leave Milan having completed what he came here to do, and he'll have an interesting story to tell Booker when he does.

This is what Yusuf is thinking about while he's at dinner that night, how he's going to describe the details of his meeting with Di Genova to Booker, and why he doesn't notice the man approaching his table immediately.

He'd wondered briefly when he sat down whether Di Genova was here, in the restaurant, but quickly shaken it away - he has a job to do, and he won't be distracted from it. The man who stands before him now, however, is definitely not the thief.

"Yusuf al-Kaysani?" the man says, in a way that sounds more like a demand than a question.

"Yes?" Joe answers, keeping his voice as polite as possible while also moving his hand slowly towards the knife on the table - it won't do much damage, but it'll be better than nothing if it comes to that. The man's eyes track the movement, and he smiles unkindly.

"Mr. Merrick requests your company," he says, nodding over to a table near the back of the restaurant, where sure enough, Merrick is watching them. Joe curses internally.

"The meeting wasn't scheduled until the day after tomorrow," he says, careful to sound more annoyed than worried. "If Mr. Merrick has a problem-"

"He is well aware of when the meeting was scheduled for," the man interrupts. "This is a different matter. He would like to speak with you now."

Joe glances around the restaurant. There aren't many others here at this time in the evening, and Joe wonders how many of them are in Merrick's pocket. The man takes a step closer, his hand drifting to his waist, where Joe can clearly see a knife hilt. He gets the message.

"Of course," Joe says, as politely as he can manage, and stands.

He follows the man over to Merrick, who smiles, though it doesn't seem at all genuine. "Mr. al-Kaysani. A pleasure."

Joe forces himself to smile back, even as he tries to work out what this is even about. "Mr. Merrick. This is earlier than I expected to meet. The paintings have not yet arrived, so if that is what you want to discuss, you will have to wait," he lies.

"No, I just have a few questions for you," Merrick says. He holds his hand out to the man who still hasn't moved from their table, effectively keeping Joe trapped, who passes him a file marked AK. Merrick flips open and pulls out a black-and-white photograph. He slides it across the table to Joe. "Is this not you, two weeks ago, meeting with the forger Sebastien le Livre?"

Joe looks down at the photograph, his heart already sinking. It's unmistakably him in the photograph, laughing at something Booker says. Behind him is a large package, the right size to be Merrick's paintings. Joe keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Where did you get this?" he asks.

Merrick shrugs. "I have my sources." He slides over another photograph, and another. "Do these look familiar?"

They're both him - both with billionaires he'd sold to and who had had their unethical business practices exposed less than a month later. He'd been careful, he's always careful, but evidently it hadn't been enough. "What are you trying to imply, Mr. Merrick?" he asks.

Merrick smiles again, nastily. "I believe that the paintings you are planning to sell me are fake, and that you are going to use the deal as a front to find information that you will use to attempt to undermine me, is that correct?"

"You imply that there will be something to find," Joe responds.

Merrick ignores him and places the full file on the table. "I have evidence here of you breaking and entering multiple times, selling forgeries, and your… less than respectable past. I will, however, make you a deal: if you bring me the paintings, the real ones, in four days, then you can have this information and I will leave you alone. If you do not, I will release this information to law enforcement and the public. Is that clear?"

Joe stares him down. Merrick doesn't flinch.

"Do we have a deal, Mr. al-Kaysani?"

The man standing by their table moves closer threateningly. Joe's trapped.

"It seems we do," he says. Never mind that he doesn't know how he's going to manage getting the real paintings - which are held under high security - in four days.

"Good," Merrick says. "Keep the photos. As a reminder." He stands, then, snapping his file shut and nodding to the other man. "See you in four days."

With that, he leaves. Joe waits until he's out of sight, then gets up himself and leaves the restaurant.

He can't get word to Booker in time, or any of his other contacts. He'll have to figure this out on his own. He's on his way back to his hotel room when an idea begins to form, one that is quite possibly insane and has only a slim chance of working, but is the only real option he has.

He's going to need to find a way to contact the thief.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. I) - p.l. dubois

As promised, here’s the first part of Breakable Heaven! I’m really excited for this one, there’s so many things I can’t wait for you all to read. This chapter is more setup and background, but I promise it’s all worth it! I’d love it if you reblogged (helps me know people like my work!) or pop into my inbox and let me know what you think! I read all the tags :)

part I part ii part iii part iv

June 4 (thurs)

Laurel clipped her pager back onto her scrubs, leaning over the counter of the nurses’ station. “You ready to go grab lunch?” She had just finished changing the bandages and administering pain medication for a little boy who was recovering from a heart surgery, and was looking forward to getting off her feet for a few minutes. The PICU floor was quiet, only about half of the rooms being filled, and there were no pressing matters that required her attention. If something drastic changed in the next half an hour, she always had her pager. 

Madeline looked up from her chair, where she was finishing up filling in a patient’s chart. “Sounds good,” she said, letting their charge nurse know that they were headed down. Madeline Peltier had been one of the first people to introduce themselves to Laurel when she started; having only been on the unit for two weeks herself, she was still getting a handle on the reins and was more than willing to show Laurel around. 

Madeline was also one of the few on the floor who was just as comfortable in English as she was in French. French had been Laurel’s foreign language through college, but she was made rudely aware upon her move to Montréal that the pronunciation and slang of Canadian French was very different from the Standard French of Madame Anderson’s rural Minnesota classroom. Her grasp of the language was good enough to take the Québec nursing licensure exam — which wasn’t even offered in English — but the spoken dialect was proving much more difficult to pick up. They walked down to the cafeteria, on the second floor, grabbing some sandwiches before swiping their ID badges for the employee discount. 

“I still think they should give us free food,” Madeline said moodily, unscrewing her water bottle and taking a sip. 

Laurel laughed. “When hell freezes over, maybe. Doctor’s lounge usually has some pretty nice stuff set out, or at least that’s what they say. Pity our cards don’t let us in, I’m not above identity theft.” Madeline snorted into her sandwich. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” Madeline asked a few minutes later, starting to peel an orange. 

“Uh, not much?” Laurel said. “Getting my papers together to resign my lease in a few weeks, grocery shopping, but nothing big. It’s been a long few shifts this week and I’m mostly just looking forward to taking it easy. Why?”

“If you’re up to it,” Madeline shrugged, “Patrice and I are going out for dinner Saturday night and we’d love for you to join us.” Patrice was Madeline’s long-time boyfriend, they started dating in university and had been together ever since. 

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Madeline, thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to keep being your third wheel.” 

Madeline let out a conspiratorial grin. Oh no, Laurel thought. This can’t be good. “As it would so happen,” she said, “you wouldn’t be third wheeling. One of Patrice’s friends is back in the city for a few months, and I think you two might hit it off,” she sing-songed. Madeline had been trying to set her up from practically the moment they met; whether it was someone from her gym, one of the critical care fellows, or apparently, her boyfriend’s childhood friend. They were always nice guys, but nothing had ever stuck for more than a date or two. 

---

Twelve hour shifts meant that, at least on work days, there was no way Laurel was going to have the emotional or physical capacity to make herself a real dinner. She’d order in occasionally, but it more common to just pull together something quick like a frozen pizza or grab whatever leftovers she could find in the fridge. Yesterday’s chicken and rice it was, then. Sticking it in the microwave, Laurel opened the door to her balcony, letting Piper out to use the bathroom. Piper was an eight-month-old chocolate lab, the love of her life who she had adopted just after the new year. Laurel had always grown up with dogs; back in Minnesota she had Jackson and Lucy, and she had been missing them more than a little bit since moving to Canada. Piper was incredible. Intelligent, loyal, and so friendly that even her neighbor’s notoriously picky five-year-old son had taken a shine to her. She wolfed down her food, grabbed Piper’s leash and her water bottle, and headed out the door. 

June 5 (fri)

The intricacies of language were hard. And, somehow, learning the intricacies of a language you already knew was even harder. Laurel was trying her damndest to pick up Québecois French as fast as humanly possible, but while she could conjugate l’imparfait in her sleep, the accent and vocabulary were what was really throwing her off. But she intended on making a life in Montréal, and staying as long as she could, so there really wasn’t any option but to hit the books. Immersion worked for some people, and thank God she knew the medical terminology to communicate with her patients and their families, but it wasn’t quite the same when she was struggling through telling the mechanic her car needed an oil change. In a perfect world she’d have someone to help her one-on-one, but she didn’t want to ask Madeline for that big of a favor. And while she made decent money at the hospital — she could afford her own apartment and had a little left over every month to put into savings — it was nowhere near enough to pay for a tutor. So Duolingo, and podcasts, and Youtube lessons it was. 

Letting out a groan, Laurel leaned her head into her hands, shutting her laptop. She wasn’t going to make any progress being this frustrated. She bent down to scratch Piper, whose favorite spot for naps was a blanket right beside Laurel’s desk, between the ears, pulling her leash and collar off of their book by her bedroom door. Piper’s ears perked up, and soon enough she was running around the apartment wagging her tail as fast as it could go, a slightly exasperated but nevertheless laughing Laurel following. She finally managed to clip on her leash; at fifty pounds, Piper still had a little bit of growing left to do, but she had already proven she was more than capable of bending the will of a full-grown and otherwise capable 23-year-old woman. 

She had discovered Parc Saint-François-d’Assise a few weeks after adopting Piper, and had thanked her lucky stars for finding a dog park so close to her apartment. Having a schedule like hers meant that she couldn’t always get her to a weekly training or obedience class — plus, the French that she did know certainly didn’t include ‘heel’ — so the time spent socializing was well-appreciated. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and Piper was good enough on a leash that she only stopped once to bark at a squirrel in one of the many birch trees that lined the street. The park was an acre or two, small enough that she could see all the way across and keep an eye on Piper as she let her off-leash, but big enough that there was more than enough room for all the animals. It wasn’t particularly crowded that Friday; Laurel was confused for a moment before she remembered that most people were busy at 11 AM on a weekday. There were a few families, with kids out for the summer from school, and a man playing in the far corner with his two small dogs, but not much else. 

Laurel leaned down, unclipping the leash from Piper’s collar, and gave the chocolate lab a scratch on the head. “Have fun, girl!” Piper never needed much encouragement, and took off running almost before Laurel had even wrapped up her leash. Rolling her eyes and laughing, she picked up her phone. A text from Allison, one of her only friends in the city aside from Madeline, inviting her out for her birthday next week. Madeline, giving her the address for the restaurant the next night. The Duolingo owl, threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t log her language progress for the day. She was so engrossed in checking her email that she didn’t hear the shout for her to look out, or the two bulldogs barreling towards her at full speed, until they had knocked her off her feet and she landed straight on her ass. 

“Desolé. Vas-tu bien?” The man asked, holding out a hand and helping her up. Laurel nodded, brushing the dirt off her jeans. 

“Ouais, ouais. Pas de problème, pas de mal. Ils sont chiens, non?” 

He chuckled, patting the smaller of the two bulldogs, which had decided to take a break from accosting passers-by to get petted. “C’est vrai.” They talked for another minute or two before saying goodbye, but she could have sworn it was an hour. 

Walking Piper home half an hour later, Laurel was struck with two realizations. The mystery man — bulldog dad, as she had started calling him in her internal monologue — had very possibly the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen in her life, and she’d be cursing herself for the next week for not getting his number. 

June 6 (sat)

Saturday meant Laurel had a day off, but more importantly, Saturday meant she didn’t have to set her alarm for 5:30 and could actually wake up at a semi-normal hour. Her internal clock didn’t wake her up until half past seven; even then, it was Piper’s soft barks that finally got her up, throwing on a pait of shorts, and leading her out to the courtyard down the hallway to use the bathroom before coming back to her apartment and throwing open the fridge doors. No 7 AM shift meant that she mercifully had enough time to make a proper breakfast. On shift days, there never seemed to be enough time to actually sit down and eat, and Laurel usually ended up just having a quick bowl of cereal or some overnight oats and making a protein shake to drink on the drive over. Eggs, bread, yogurt, a peach she had picked up from the farmer’s market. 

After the bread was done toasting and her tea was finished steeping, she gingerly carried the food out to the balcony, placing it on the table as Piper trotted out behind her. Laurel crunched her toast with one hand as she flipped the pages of a book with the other, a Shirley Chisholm biography that Victoria, her best friend from high school, had recommended her. It was almost an hour later when she finally found a good place to stop. As much as she may have liked to just camp out on her balcony all day and blow through the rest of the book, her pantry was crying out for a grocery run and she was running desperately low on ice cream. 

---

The dinner reservation was at 7, and by 6:30 Laurel was almost ready to leave. Her blue skirt fanned out on the couch as she sat killing time on her phone, tapping the floor nervously with the same pair of block heels that she’d worn to her university graduation. The restaurant wasn’t far from her apartment building, so a few minutes later, she decided to go, leaving Piper with a pat on the head and plenty of food in her bowl. Laurel laughed to herself on the way over, her eyes flickering over the skyline as she walked alongside the St. Lawrence River. 

It’s like what she had told Madeline over and over again, every time she tried to set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She wasn’t actively looking for a relationship but wouldn’t be opposed to it. Whatever happens, happens. Biting her lip, Laurel decided that even if she didn’t hit it off with whatever guy Madeline was trying to set her up, even if things go horribly wrong and he’s the exact opposite of what she’s looking for in a partner, she’ll get a free meal and, hopefully, a new friend.

Laurel hadn’t been told much about her blind date, or anything, really. She didn’t even know his name. From what she had been able to figure out, he was from the area but didn’t work in Canada most of the year — so maybe he was in business? All Madeline told her was that he was tall, attractive, and had a dog. Or was it two? She honestly couldn’t remember. She trusted her and Patrice’s judgement, so if he had gotten their stamp of approval, it was good enough for her. She grabbed her phone out of her bag as she neared the restaurant, letting Madeline know she was almost there and asking where to meet her. She told the hostess she was meeting some friends, and Madeline walked around the corner less than a minute later. “Hi, love!” she said, reaching out and wrapping Laurel in a warm hug. “We’re over this way.” Laurel followed her around the corner and past the bar to a four-seater against the wall. She slid into the seat closest to the wall, leaving a space empty. 

“He should be back in a minute, just ran to the bathroom,” Patrice said, nodding towards the vacant seat and referring to her mystery man. A minute passed, Laurel scanning the wine list, before Madeline threw her hand up in greeting. 

“Salut, PL!” When Laurel looked up, she almost dropped her menu.

 “Oh my God!” The stranger — PL’s — eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the bulldog dad!” 

He chuckled, rounding the table to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Left, then right. It had taken Laurel a while to get used to; even going to university in Toronto, cheek kissing was practically obsolete, but that changed very quickly upon her move to Montréal. “I am. Pierre-Luc Dubois, good to meet you properly this time.” 

Madeline looked between the two, clearly confused. “You know each other?” 

Laurel shook her head. “Not really, no. His dogs ran into me at the park yesterday when I was there with Piper, we talked for a minute or two.” 

Pierre nodded in affirmation. “So, Piper. The chocolate lab’s yours then?” 

“My pride and joy.” 

June 13 (sun)

 Over the next week and a half, it became more and more common for Laurel to meet up with the group on the weekend, or one of her off days, or really whenever she had spare time. She had learned that Pierre-Luc was a hockey player, Patrice explaining that they had played atom league together growing up and the friendship had somehow stuck. Come to think of it, he had looked a little familiar. The University of Minnesota Duluth was less than an hour drive from her hometown, and besides being the college that the majority of the 50% of college-bound graduates of her high school went to, it also had one of the best hockey programs in the country. So she knew the sport, followed enough to be informed, and had even become a de facto Maple Leafs fan from her time in Toronto. 

Sometimes Madeline and Laurel would bring another friend from the hospital along, sometimes it was just the four of them. Once, a Sunday afternoon coffee meetup turned into just Laurel and Pierre-Luc; Patrice had come down with a bad cold and Madeline was staying behind to look after him. If she was being honest, it was far less awkward than she had anticipated. Pierre had insisted on buying her iced capp, and they had settled in a corner booth, sharing a box of Timbits. 

“Patrice mentioned you’re from the U.S., somewhere in the Midwest?” Pierre asked, sipping his coffee. 

She nodded. “Cloquet, Minnesota,” Laurel sighed, “where there is exactly one hotel, one high school, and life revolves around the mines.” 

Pierre sucked in. “That sounds...interesting,” he said diplomatically. 

Laurel laughed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to mince words. The people are nice, if you think like they do, and the scenery is gorgeous, but…” She gathered her thoughts. “It’s not the place you can really dream big, you know?” He nodded. “Neither of my parents went to college, my mom’s a receptionist at the elementary school and my dad works in the mines. I knew by the time I was in high school that I wanted something more. There was just nothing for me there, and I didn’t ever want to feel as trapped and beaten down as some people I know.” 

Pierre leaned back in his chair. “Do you go back often?” 

“Once a year, maybe twice?” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ve only got a few good friends back there, and trust me, they’re much more excited to come to big-city Canada than I would be to go back to a town of 12,000 people.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Conversation between them flowed easily, so easily that before she knew it, two hours had gone by and he had to leave for a skate. As she walked back to the metro, Laurel couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the two hours she had spent with Pierre had felt more like a date than any she’d been on since moving to Montréal a year ago. But it couldn’t have been a date, because it wasn’t supposed to be. Right?

 June 15 (tues)

 It was half past seven on Tuesday, and Laurel was just getting home from work. She loved her job, genuinely, but twelve hour shifts were no joke. Spinning her key ring around her finger, she stopped in the mailroom, unlocking her box and fishing out the stack of envelopes that had accumulated in the two days since she’d last checked. Walking over to the elevators, she held the bundle in one hand as the other punched in her button to the third floor. Laurel flipped through the envelopes as the doors opened. Water bill, bank statement, letter from Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada. Hang on. Laurel stopped at the last envelope, running her finger under the flap as she turned her key in the lock, opening the door with her hip and letting it slam shut behind her. 

She had applied a little over a month ago for her permanent residency card, which she had been assured by everyone she asked would be a relatively easy and painless process. “You’re a nurse, and a good one. I could use ten of you,” her charge nurse had stated. “You went to school here, you have a Canadian degree and a Canadian license. There’s no reason they would cause you any trouble,” Madeline had said. And she had done her due diligence, double-checked every piece of information, checked off every document on the list. Done everything she was supposed to do. So when she unfolded the paper, the words shocked her. 

Denied. Laurel brought her hand shakily up to her mouth as her eyes raced down the letter. No explanation was given, all she was told was that her application had been rejected and she had until September 17, when her work visa expired, to leave the country. The first thing Laurel did was frantically grab her laptop, seeing if there was some way she could apply for a visa extension, but the deadline had passed; she’d have to go back to the consulate in Minneapolis and try to re-apply from there, but her chances weren’t good if she’d already been rejected. The second thing she did was collapse on the floor, Piper nosing herself under her arm, and cry. 

June 16 (wed)

When the group met up for lunch the next day, Madeline noticed something was off about Laurel almost immediately. Normally someone who was hyper-focused on the task at hand, she was stirring her straw around in her glass, nibbling at a piece of bread and answering questions shortly if at all. “What’s up?” she asked carefully, catching Laurel’s eye as she tried to busy herself with straightening her napkin. There wasn’t really a way she could get out of answering that one. 

“I, uh, I got a letter yesterday,” she said. Pierre and Patrice stopped their conversation. All eyes were on her. “From immigration services. They told me,” her eyes pricked with tears, “they told me my PR application was denied, and I only have until the middle of September before I have to leave.” 

“Like, leave the country?” Pierre asked. She nodded. “But can’t you renew your visa or something?” 

“No, I looked into everything.” Laurel said in frustration, shaking her head. “There’s not enough time for it to be processed, I’d have to go back and reapply in the States, and even then the chances aren’t great.” 

Madeline leaned over, wrapping Laurel up in a hug. “Oh, Laur. I’m so sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.” 

“It’s just hard,” Laurel started, “knowing that there’s nothing there for me back home. That’s the whole reason why I came to Canada in the first place, to get away. To get out. I’d have to retake all my licensure exams and find a new job and I don’t want to have to start all over when that’s not at all what I planned for. I thought I’d stay. I thought this was going to be my home” 

“I can call my friend who’s a lawyer, see if he’s got any ideas?” Patrice offered. 

Laurel smiled weakly “Thanks, Patrice, but I really don’t think they’d be able to do much. I was on the website for hours, and there’s like two ways I wouldn’t be kicked out of the country. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to give birth by September 17,” she said, letting out a watery laugh. 

“You’d have to marry someone or something to stay,” Madeline said. 

“Yeah, that’s the only other way it was going to happen,” Laurel agreed. “But seeing as how I’m obscenely single, I don’t see that happening…” She trailed off. 

“I’d marry you,” Pierre said suddenly, shrugging. 

Laurel’s head whipped to her side. “You’d what?” 

“I’d marry you. We’re both single, by all accounts you’re an amazing nurse and deserve to stay. We get married, stay ‘together’ for a few years until you get your citizenship, and then tragically inform the citizenship and immigration people that while we tried, it just didn’t work out, and get a divorce. Easy peasy.” 

Laurel almost burst out laughing, the idea was so ridiculous. She almost couldn’t wrap her head around what he was offering to do. He couldn’t be serious. Right? 

---

Laurel slung her arm over her head, body tangled up in bedsheets. According to her phone, it was well past one. She couldn’t sleep. She had tried rain sounds, counting sheep, drinking a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing was working; she just wasn’t able to still her mind. Honestly, she couldn’t stop thinking about lunch earlier. More specifically, what Pierre had said. 

As much of a bad person as it may have made her sound, the more she thought about Pierre’s offer, the more it made sense. He was incredibly attractive, so it wouldn’t be hard to fake a marriage to him for a few years. She really didn’t keep in contact with anyone from back home in Cloquet aside from her family and a few friends from high school, so it’s not like there would really be anyone to blow her cover. And she really, really wanted to stay in Canada. It wasn’t just the scenery, or the general human decency of everyone, or even the universal healthcare that pushed her to stay. She had fallen in love with the people, the city, and didn’t want to go down without a fight. 

Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, pulling up Pierre’s contact. Hey, she texted. Laurel immediately cursed herself as the three dots popped up on his side. Hey? She was going to ask this man to marry her and the best she could come up with was hey? He wrote back immediately. Hey. You’re up late, what’s up? Laurel took a deep breath. How serious were you about offering to marry me? His second response was even faster than the first. As a heart attack.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy VI Review

Year: 1994

Original Platform: Super Nintendo (originally released as Final Fantasy III in the West)

Also available on: Playstation One (Final Fantasy Anthology), Game Boy Advance, Android, iOS, Steam

Version I Played: Game Boy Advance

Synopsis:

Terra is a slave used by the Gestahl Empire because of her magic powers. The Gestahl Empire seeks to hunt down espers (summons) and harness their powers too, effectively killing them. Terra escapes their clutches and falls into the hands of the Returners – a small band of rebels hoping to return freedom to the world.

Gameplay:

Final Fantasy VI doesn’t exactly add anything super-new to the gameplay unlike its predecessors. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong or boring with it. It has an ATB system and each character, like in Final Fantasy IV, specialize in certain jobs. Therefore, each character has a special unique ability that no other character can perform.

I find the style of the game unique for its time because you can easily split the game into two parts. There's a pivotal point in the story that changes everything. The first half is a typical story-driven RPG. The second half is actually more open world. With a huge cast of characters, you are not actually required to end the game with all of them. The second half of the game offers a unique style where you can take on the final boss with what you’ve got, or hunt down the rest of the cast members and then take on the final boss.  

 Graphics:

This is the SNES in its prime. Character sprites are much bigger, and the world looks so much more detailed and vibrant. Shadow looked weird though. Sometimes you had to squint to discern what his face actually looked like. Other than that, the game looks great! It’s notable for utilizing more graphics power from the SNES in some cutscenes, and also when you fly an airship.

The PlayStation One version again has a FMV sequence that hasn’t aged well at all. Okay, maybe it’s a tad bit better, but that’s not saying much.

Story:

One of the biggest debates in recent Final Fantasy fandom is asking whether Final Fantasy VI or Final Fantasy VII is better. While I won’t get into Final Fantasy VII much now, it was always the most popular game in the series. It seems that in recent years, gamers have retroactively judged Final Fantasy VI as the best Final Fantasy game of all time.

I wish I had appreciated more when I was a kid. When I first played it then, I actually despised it. I was much more critical about stories back then. For whatever reason, I didn't think the world building was coherent. I also wasn’t used to Final Fantasy games by then.

I finished Final Fantasy VI about four years ago, and that time I was taken by it. I became enlightened and completely changed my opinion of it from sour to sweet. I wish I could erase my memory on playing it only so that I could experience it for the first time and appreciate it for the first time. I had already known most about what happened in the story, so I really wish I could experience the shock and awe of it brand new. Final Fantasy VI does things with its story that no other Final Fantasy game has done. It has drama, it has brevity, it has an amazing cast of heroes and villains. To date, it has the most playable characters in a Final Fantasy game.

The plot even incorporates a little opera that you sit through.

 At first glance, Final Fantasy VI seems derivative. There is once again an evil empire seeking to control the world, and there is once again a rebellion. People often make the parallel to Star Wars, much like Final Fantasy II. The name “Returners” doesn’t quite stick with me personally as the name of an epic rebellion. Final Fantasy VI also created the recurring characters Biggs and Wedge, a further nod to Star Wars.

But you have to look past the simple setup of a ragtag rebellion fighting an evil empire. First of all, the steampunk setting is one of the most original in a Final Fantasy game to date, and hasn’t really been revisited. The world dabbles in late 19th century architecture, with fine arts and opera. The empire is only beginning to realize the ancient power of magic, and combines it with technology to make “Magitek”, starting a sort of “industrial revolution”. The opening scene to this game is one of the most memorable. Terra, under the empire’s mind control device, in her magitek armor with Biggs and Wedge, trudging through the snow as the opening credits roll by, comes off as a real live-action movie.

 While the official creators say that there isn’t a main character, I still say it’s Terra. If not, she’s at least the most important. She propels the plot forward. She’s one of those rare great female protagonists in a video game RPG. She’s more than just “a strong female character”. She has depth as she tries to find her place in the world, and other characters, such as the thief Locke, try to help her.

 Also, just like Final Fantasy V, Final Fantasy VI has its own villainous goofball - Ultros.

He’s not quite as charming as Gilgamesh, but he acts in the same manner regardless.

 Each character has their own story – no matter how small or big. They’ve all lost loved ones, or suffered hardships, and the central theme about the entire game is really about grief and dealing with it even in the face of nihilism.

 Nihilism comes in the form of Kefka - Emperor Gestahl's court mage. Kefka did the whole nihilistic evil clown thing before Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight. Kefka retroactively rose to popularity, rivaling longtime favorite villain Sepiroth from Final Fantasy VII as the best Final Fantasy villain.

 Final Fantasy VI deals with heavy topics. I was shocked that it even dared to show a scene of attempted suicide. Things get dark. Really dark. But Final Fantasy VI deals the darkness with such elegance. I admire its ability to treat such heavy plots for basically children.

The ending to this game is probably the most epic out of any Final Fantasy game. I can gush with details but this is meant to be a spoiler - free review. I just have to say – E P I C. But the most admirable thing I just have to say is that it treats Terra’s journey with the utmost respect and tact. It doesn’t try to define her by having some hokey romantic subplot.

Music:

Another legendary score. Given the tone and atmosphere of the story, the score reflects something darker. Right away, the opening titles before you begin is accompanied by foreboding music. With the exception of battle themes, the story demanded that Uematsu put away most of his drumming and rock undertones for a more conventional, instrumental score with pathos. It sounds most like the score to an actual fantasy movie, very operatic and Wagner-like.

Shadow’s theme sounds inspired by typical Western movie fare, being that he is a drifter. In fact, Final Fantasy VI’s score is diverse in tones with its character themes, which is obvious once you think about where all the characters come from. Cyan’s theme has Asian influences. The theme for the Veldt, a stretch of wilderness, has a jungle beat. Then of course there’s the opera music. Many Final Fantasy concerts, such as Distant Worlds, play the opera about the fictional characters Draco and Maria. Kekfa, the villain, has a jovial but sinister theme scattered throughout. Terra’s theme is practically the main theme of the game, and it too is referenced throughout.

The end credits song is a whopping 21 minutes and 36 seconds. It goes through every single character’s theme and more. The entire soundtrack is 3 hours long. I don’t think any other game at the time had a soundtrack that long.

 Notable Theme:

 “Dancing Mad”

To me, Dancing Mad is Nobuo Uematsu's magnum opus. It is a sprawling 8-minute epic for the final battle.

Verdict:

A must-play. Any RPG fan will love this game. Any RPG fan SHOULD play this game. There’s nothing obnoxious or vainglorious here. Every subsequent Final Fantasy game tried to live up to its drama and scope, but with all of them falling short ever so slightly.

Direct Sequel?

No. Thank God.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Baby (IV)

“I could’ve done good,” Baby grumbled, his chin in his palm as he sat on the white wicker chair next to Dean, in the outdoor cafe while Sam and Cas talked to the second witness. “I just needed another chance.”

“When the Priest asked you your religion, you made a joke about Vicecity.” Dean reminded, smirking a little because he could, and he was so past that stage. “You needed more than a chance.”

“I’m sorry, but they didn’t mention it in my finishing school for muscle cars.” Baby threw back.

“As if I did a thesis on witness-interrogation for my Hunting 305 class at community college.” Dean replied, but there was no sharpness in his tone. Mere humor. Baby made a sound that sounded increasingly like a whine, and Dean was satisfied.

“You really have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Baby suddenly said, all serious.

“What?”

“I mean Cas, Dean. Cas.” He repeated, turning his eyes back to the trench-coated angel, looking much shorter than he was supposed to, next to Sam, standing stiff and wide.

Dean could feel the impending lecture in the air. About Cas. About how he and Dean should solve their differences and like, get together or some shit. He’d gotten enough of those, combined with disapproving looks from Sam, on the nights they let loose and hung out together drinking. But before he could reply to that which wasn’t said yet, he was cut off.

Baby was talking about something else. “His wings, Dean. His magnificent wings.”

“What? You - you can see them?”

“No, but if you try hard enough, you can feel them.” He justified. “At least, I could feel them.”

Dean was quiet, because he knew the other wanted to keep speaking.

“When its just him in the back, like most of the time? He lets them sprawl over the seat. And I can feel it. Its a tingling feeling, but it’s there.” He paused. “He never sits on them, you know.”

“Well, one would think that he wouldn’t sit on his wings, right?” Dean pinched his eyebrows together.

“I mean,” He chastised. “It’d be so much easier, if he just folded them up or something. But, no. He never hurts them, he’d never ruin it.”

Dean blinked. “That’s…something.”

“That’s impressive.” Baby corrected. “And, of course you know, he’s so fast.” He let out a whistle.

The tone was different.

The almost reverent tone was replaced by admiration. Maybe attracted, even. “When he flies, Dean, he’s something else. I can’t see him, he isn’t in our dimension when he does it, but can’t you feel it too? Like, damn. That’s fast.”

Of course, Baby would like speed. That part was kinda obvious.

But Dean had thought about it many times before, too. He knew Cas was an angel, even though he not have even half of his powers anymore, and none of that personality. He knew his best friend had wings, he knew that he once flew. With the birds in the sky, maybe the aeroplanes even higher, through the clouds and through the skies, Cas had flown. Faster than all of them.

It was an exciting thought.

Now, though. Dean hurt as much as anyone else did when he thought of Cas’s lost wings. The loss of his ability to fly. He couldn’t imagine what that’d be like. It’d be even worse than losing Baby.

“And when he lost them,” Baby went on, almost in sync with Dean’s head. “I saw how he troubled he was. He had trouble sitting in all that place so empty, by himself. I was there all those moments that you were, Dean,” He paused, serious again. “Maybe you were looking away but I wasn’t, and I saw his heart break each time something reminded him of flight.”

No, I was looking too. Dean wanted to say. But he nodded and made a sad noise in his throat. I just didn’t know what to say.

“I may just be a car,” Baby went on and Dean was surprised at the insecure, humble edge to his ever-confident tone. “I may not be a match for wings of any kind. But I swear, its not about being his wings. If only I could be his wheels.”

Dean listened, dumbstruck.

“That’s too literal a metaphor.” He almost choked on his own voice.

That’s my line. His eyes added.

“Well, where were you when he needed to hear that?” Baby challenged, showing protest with a mutinous lip. He jutted out his chin. “You had a chance of saying it to him.”

A dark cloud went over their conversation. Dean replied, prompt and frowning. “I blew it, okay? I added to his hurt, was a shitty friend overall. I blew my chance.” Dean looked away, away from Baby, and away from Cas, metres away. “And I couldn’t have said it as prettily as you just did either, so there.”

There was a moment of silence.

Followed by a rustle of fabric, and a hand on his shoulder. A hand, just a hand. But there. And giving him hope. Reminding him of home. Like the Chevy Impala ‘67 had always done.

“You,” Dean let out. “You’re really my car, aren’t you?”

“I’m your Baby, yes.”

“Well, Baby,” Dean said, in the same breath for the first time, sounding like he meant it. “Couldn’t you just have, like, given me those lines then? Through the speakers or something?” He smiled, bringing the focus back to lighter matters. “Been my wingman once more, like you’ve been since I started picking up one night stands at 18?”

“What can I say?” Baby smiled, and his fingers around Dean’s shoulder squeezed. “I’m just a car, Dean.”

“Just a car,” Dean repeated, mockingly. “Are you kidding me, Mister-really-sucky-puns?”

“Well, right now, I’m not just a car. Probably this time tomorrow, I’ll be one again.” He grinned, standing up. “I’m gonna go join 'em. You coming?”

“Are you,” Dean groaned, standing up. “Are you gonna use that line on him?”

“Well now that you’ve verified that it’s a good line, I’ve gotta, don’t I?” He smirked, back in his stride. “They say, there’s no such thing as a missed opportunity for a pick-up line.”

“You’re such a -” Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m not even gonna ask who they is, because its probably 16 year old me.”

“Nah, you were 23.” He laughed. “At sixteen, you were not a hundredth as much of a 'player’ as you think. I should know.”

“Just go.”

Just go hit on my guy, and be done with it. Dean wished he could say it out loud, even in a joking tone, to the man - car - one who probably knew him the best, after his brother. But of course he couldn’t. That needed like many more years of character development before he could call Cas that out loud.

“And shut your face.” He added, because well, he’s Dean, son of John Winchester, isn’t he? “Don’t bother Cas too much.”

Rolling his eyes, Baby strolled off, smoothly leaving Dean frowning behind, with parting words of the most annoying kind. “You wouldn’t kick my ass or anything even if I did. Sure, he’s Cas. But I’m still your Baby, and you’re kind of a sap so you love me too.”

Dean swore under his breath, and to not give him the pleasure of having won the round, determinedly didn’t respond.

**

Dean walked towards the decided restaurant, a small-ish place, which probably didn't serve too much alcohol. Beer, though, would definitely be available.

Well, it would have to work, wouldn't it? Because he sure as hell needed some booze in his system to get through this evening.

This date.

With Cas. And Baby.

He didn't even know why he was doing this. He could've said no - well, theoretically, at least. He could've spent the night at a bar, instead of this diner. With strangers he'd forget the next day - instead of people who actually meant something to him. Maybe even back at the motel, where Sam was, forcing Sam to watch crappy TV with him, instead of look for more cases.

But here he was.

He pushed open the door, the fluorescent 'Open' sign swinging as he did, and looked around for familiar faces.

His eyes found Cas, sitting by himself on a table for four, doing absolutely nothing except looking at the squeezy ketchup bottles, arranged neatly on the table.

Dean sighed, as he made his way over to him. He'd noticed Cas had his trench coat off, but the rest of him was the same. He looked good, of course, but not as though he dressed up for a date.

Of course, Dean hadn't done anything either. It'd been a randomly spontaneous decision to shave at six in the evening, or replace his old red flannel, with a slightly less worn green one. Of course.

A flicker of a thought went through him, as a scene went through his head. He'd once gotten Cas - Steve, actually - dressed up for a date. (More like dressed down, but okay.)

Well, Cas clearly hadn't remembered any of it. Sure, the obnoxious blue vest was absent, but the blazer and tie was pretty much his uniform. Not a Gas 'N Sip uniform - kinda like his custom hunting attire.

In any case, the buttons were all done, all the way to the second, and the collar was fairly formal with the tie blocking any sliver of skin, which may otherwise have been visible.

No big deal. Dean too had folded up his sleeves, for just the heat.

"Hey," Dean sat down across Cas, and the latter looked up at him. "Reading the ingredients of ketchup, are ya?"

"No," Cas smiled, wider than the joke was funny and deserved. Dean was pleased, and he instantly mirrored it. "I know what tomato ketchup is made of."

"Vegetables," Dean clicked his tongue, and winked, referring an older joke, of a simpler time. Cas nodded, remembering surely, and there was quiet for a moment.

"Where's," Dean cleared his throat, and forced the warm comfort of this setup - with Cas - away, with his next words. "Where's Baby?"

Cas shrugged. "He's not been with me for a while now."

Dean blinked. "But -"

"He had something to attend to." Cas recalled.

"He's my car," Dean narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "What business would he have, something that he couldn't ask me - or you, or Sam - for?"

Cas was surprisingly relaxed. He didn't even have his squint on. "I don't know, Dean, but nevermind. At least you're here."

Dean succeeded in not blushing, but it was a heroic effort.

Sure, he and Cas had some unresolved tension, going for pretty long now; but blatant lines and declarations was not their type of gesture. He was not used to Cas softly looking at him, and telling him that he was glad Dean showed up to their date. This was not up his alley.

"Heh," He stammered. "You hungry? I sorta am. I'm gonna go order, alright? Will get you whatever I have, minus the pie and extra cheese."

Cas began to say something, seemingly to tell Dean that there was a waitress around who'd take their order, but Dean was on his feet and on his way to the main counter.

He leaned on it with his elbow, and did not look back at Cas, lest he should lose it and freak out again. He waited his turn, while the lady spoke to another customer.

It was in another moment, and when his eyes fell on a clock that showed twelve past seven, that a strange thought struck him.

Why wasn't Baby here yet? Fashionably late doesn't really fit into this scenario, of having a diner-made dinner with 2 guys you just hunted vampires with, supposedly a date.

Could it be that - and Dean melted against his resolve and stole a glance at Cas, who wasn't looking at him anymore - Could it be that Baby set them up?

Was he gonna ditch them for the entire evening? Was this - was this a whole plot to get Cas and him on a date?

Okay, Dean was probably overcalculating the facts he had, and overinterpreting. But, the idea suddenly seemed fitting. Why else would Baby not be there? Why else, would he invite Dean to a date, for him and Cas? Why else would he insist on his coming too? Why would -

Wait - what if he was right?

What then?

Dean bit his lip, and the lady behind the counter, in a waitress's uniform and a customer-service smile, finally turned to him. Dean stammered over his order, his head swarming with a million possibilities.

Even their table now seemed like it was a table for two - probably two considerably large men. But two.

She told him that he could go sit, they'd get the order to the table.

He nodded weakly, paid with a tip, and turned back to get to his table.

He was all prepared to propose his theory to Cas - live up to his name, and make the already awkward situation more so - and gauge his reaction. Hell, he was kinda prepared for a full evening, just with Cas. Who knew? Sometimes Dean's courage surprised him, and most of that was around Cas, for obvious reasons.

But as soon as his eyes trailed up to their table, he was stumped.

Baby was there.

He stared, his jaw slack and eyebrows raised, more disappointed than he'd ever admit aloud. In the matter of minutes, it was as if he’d gotten his hopes raised. Baby was right there, sitting next to Cas, squeezed into the same seat as him, their shoulders touching, talking in his usual animated manner.

"Welcome back," Baby greeted Dean with a toothy smile, as Dean took his spot. "Sorry I'm sorta late."

"Yeah," Dean wondered if he'd have trouble hiding his disgruntled frown, but he forged a small smile and was good. Cas certainly looked more satisfied and settled now, with Baby's arm slung around him - well, around the seat, but that was like the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. "Where were you?" He asked, instead.

Baby shrugged, to avoid answering the question. Dean furrowed his brows and was about to repeat and prod, when Cas spoke up. "I think we were both beginning to wonder if you wouldn't come."

A smug smile spread across his face. "Oh, no. I wouldn't miss this, for the World." He gestured with his eyes, at the other two. "And not show up? What do you mean, like, you thought I invited you two on a date and ditched y'all?" His eyes fixed on Dean's. "Set you up, or something?"

"No," Dean began to protest, the lie ready on his lips.

"Don't worry," Baby leaned back, probably even leaned more towards Cas. As if there needed to be any less distance between them. "I wouldn't do that kinda stuff. Like, I'm personally into this thing you two have going, but I'm not gonna meddle and make the move for you. You do you."

Dean rolled his eyes, while Cas looked more surprised.

"If you wanted to be worried about getting set up, though," He added. "Keep a lookout for Sam. His shipping is getting out of control, I heard Charlie say once. He could do this sorta thing, where he invites the both of you to a movie and then makes an excuse for himself."

Dean glared at him, while Cas pursed his lips. "That happens. Often. Dean and I watch the movie, because Sam has great taste."

Dean wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Uh-huh," He managed, flustered.

"And what, you dumbasses thought it was not a date, because?"

"Because it wasn't." Cas clarified, perfectly serious. "We didn’t ever call it that. We didn’t do date-things. It even ended with us going to our own rooms, and not with a kiss." Cas spoke, in an adequately soft voice, as if somehow Dean wouldn't hear it then.

Dean face-palmed, wondered what he'd done to deserve this, and the blood rushing to his cheeks made his blush prominent. "Goddammit, Cas." He had half a mind to get up and depart, but it’s not like the other half of his head would ever give in to such a sane and healthy decision.

"Oh, hell yeah," Baby laughed, throwing his head back. Both Dean and Cas’s eyes flitted to his bared neck and collarbones, with as much haste as they returned to each other, almost shy of being caught in the act. "I’m even more excited about this date now!"

**

And so, the evening went on. Stories were exchanged, and it was a light-hearted meal. Cas and Baby sat as if glued at the hip, and Dean ate more aggressively any moment he thought of it. There were bad jokes all around. Some more food. They didn’t budge away from each other. Dean got over it slowly. Okay, that was pretty much a lie. At one point during the date, Dean couldn't take it anymore, and spoke up before he could shove those words down his gut like he’d been doing all evening.

"You realize this is a kid-friendly place, right?” He looked up at them. “I mean, you can stop sitting like there's no space left in the entire diner." He crossed his arms across his chest.

It was true. They together fit in the seat, which Dean could fill all by himself, if he tried or spread his legs.

Cas, almost curiously, looked at Baby - their faces unbelievably close - and the bastard shifted obligingly - probably an inch though. "You're right." He agreed, earnestly. He shuffled another inch. But only that much.

"Hey, I don't mind," Baby cajoled, and looked mischievously at Dean. "But, if Cas does, I could always sit next to Dean instead."

"Don't even," Dean growled back.

"Well!" He threw his hands up, in mock exasperation. "There's no other spot for me to sit? You want us move to a larger table for dessert, Dean?"

"Just pull a chair." Dean rolled his eyes. “Sit on the third side.”

"Good idea." Cas agreed, and the way he looked at Dean, so completely sincere and genuine, that Dean had to blink a bunch of times and look away, defeated. What was it about these two that made him go wild?

"Like, sit in the middle?" Baby whined, eyeing the spot. "But, I'm not really the middle in this relationship, am I?" He added, wickedly.

There was a moment of silence.

Dean swallowed, his eyes strained on his plate.

Baby went on, his tone an edge of flirtation, with slick humor. "Why doesn't Dean shift to the middle, huh, Cas?" Cas shrugged, and Dean thanked any luck he had, that Cas hadn’t said ‘good luck’ like the last time - because he’d go nuts.

"Your thoughts, Dean?" Baby winked straight at him, and for a moment, Dean's eyes flickered between Cas's and his faces, wearing opposite expressions but somehow synonymous, and you know what? This was probably how a stroke felt. He could swear his chest hurt. 

"You can fucking sit on top of each other, you jackasses." He hissed, through his teeth, dedicating all of his attention to the food in front of him, as he drank his beer obstinately, from the bottle.

"We might," Baby led with a wink, again. "But is that a yes, on being in the middle?"

Jesus Christ.

Dean Winchester regretted all of his life decisions that led him here. Everything. Every fucking little detail, that had brought him here, on a motherfucking date, sitting across the two most gorgeous men he'd ever laid eyes on. One, too damn straight-faced, the other the goddamn opposite. It was a deadly front, and Dean was terrified for himself.

Yeah. He regretted every damn thing he'd ever said, which had brought him here, and conveniently landed him the butt off all the bottom puns possible in this scenario.

“I’m gonna throw my fucking plate at your face, you son of a -” His voice rose with every syllable, until Baby was laughing again - smug-faced and satisfied, like the look he always got when Dean reacted out to something he pulled. Dean, a pissed scowl on his lips, continued to glare at Baby, who doubled up laughing each time their eyes met. Cas looked at Dean, and only Dean. A dedicated tilt of his head.

There was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. Dean knew he’d lose it if Cas ever outright smirked at him - but this was enough to fluster him. “But why?”

Huh, so the sonuvabitch understood.

Dean passionately glared back, and it was enough to make Cas crinkle his eyes into an iconic smile, all dimples, gums and crowfeet. So, at the end of the day, it wasn't Dean's fault he was rendered speechless, and incapable of retorting. It was Cas's.

**

Tagging @hellodean-sam @moderatelypanickedbisexual @love-nakamura @casbiotic @blazeeblake @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @lykanyouko @victorian-sexstache @crack--attack @johnlockshire @kitsuneharo12 @emilydakitten @midnightmarauder3 @eyesofatragedy67 @malevolent-dean @skeletonsinzeeclost @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @demonsofhunting @american-phycho @insomniac-with-a-juice-pouch @gigisfavourites @sammyimpala-67 @ain-t-bovvered @fictionfucker @adventurous-blob @styggtroll @petrichoravellichor (helped me choose) @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect

Has this gotten too weird? Tell me to stop, and I will. If not, mwuahahaha, here I come, more date scenes! Also how do I make Baby go back somebody got any ideas

Thank you for reading! ALSO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING @lovenakamura MADE! BASED ON BABY #1

THANK YOU, I AM SO FLATTERED YOU MADE THIS ♥️

[smolberry-milk]

You guys...

I'm at a loss for words and I desperately need advice. I work at a company, (well worked) called White House Black Market. I was a sales lead and I loved every minute of that job. The people, the employees. That place became my second home and my family. (Not even just the generic way people say that, I come from a really dysfunctional home and I latched onto them like family because they treated me nicely.)

I was only part-time and needed full-time hours to move out, so I figured- I love the job, I love this store and what I do.. let me shoot for assistant store manager, which was one position above me. These past few months I've worked so hard. I worked hard to prove to my boss I could do it and that she could trust me. Yeah, I had a few setbacks, the pressure and stress of making and doing everything 100% perfect was alot, but I managed to get a 30 day trial period.

I believe that I worked myself to above and beyond the roles I needed for the position, as did everyone else. However, my boss didn't notice any of my accomplishments while they were so great. She noticed the small things I missed, or the things that could use a one time correction or guidance like setting up floorset. So, despite everyone else in the company believing in me, the one person I needed did not believe in me. Therefore, I did not get it.

I began looking for something full-time, as Chico's FAS as a company does not allow full-time for individuals not in the assistant manager position at least. (whbm is part of Chico's, as is Soma.) I had no intentions of leaving this job. I couldn't. I loved it too much.

On June 20th, I got a call from another store offering me full-time hours and great package to come on board. It was at a bridal store. I accepted the offer and immediately called my boss. I was off that day and would be in tomorrow with her. I told her I had something to talk about with her tomorrow that is important, knowing that it's Saturday and one of out busiest days would she rather talk before my shift starts or before she leaves for the day. She said she would rather hear it now rather than go into the back room on a Saturday. I hesitated, but told her regardless.

She asked me if I wanted to drop down to a sales associate, as I was in the sales lead position. I could only give her two days availability, which others have done before, and I told her I wouldn't mind being a sales associate. I said "I just know I don't want to leave, because I love it here and I love who I work with." I remember it very clearly.

Our other two sales leads would be on vacation the day I started the new job, so of course the timing was terrible. But I couldn't control that. That's just how the stars aligned...

The next day, she would not talk to me. We had a big promo setup coming up and all three sales leads were on that day. She talked to them about the promo change, but not me. She did not go outside with me for a smoke like we always did. (Saturday we actually we're extremely quiet.) She said a couple passing words, throughout the day but that was it. It crushed me. I looked up to her not only as a boss, but a role model, a motherly figure, a friend, a mentor. Because of my attachment and abandonment issues, I latched onto her the hardest, because she gave that tough love like a mother, but also gave me advice on life. I fell in love with the people there and assigned them titles in my heart as "sister", "mother", "aunt", "cousin".. and felt comforted by that. Unfortunately my boss became mother, so being rejected by her like that crushed me.

It crushed me so much so that I flipped from idolizing her, to hating her— as most borderlines do. She abandoned me and rejected me, I hated her guts. I couldnt stand to look at her. She was going to replace me. I didn't want to be there that following Monday. I was in a mindset of "fuck this, fuck you, fuck being here." This sanctuary I had was completely destroyed.

Yesterday, (Tuesda, June 25th) I came into my shift at 4pm. I clocked in and read mail on the company computer, like usual. I came out to the floor and asked to be paced in with what was going on for the day. My boss pulled the calendar and said to me "let's go finish up our conversation from the other day." Since she was pulling the calendar, I didn't think anything negative. I figured we were going to discuss what day's I could give her. I perked up a little bit.

We get into the backroom and sit down and she tells me she needs me to write out my notice to her just so she has it in writing. I knew this was standard, but figured because I was dropping in position and not leaving the company, I didn't need to write a two weeks. I asked her what to write. I've never had to drop down in position before, so I was unsure. She told me all I had to do was write that I was giving my notice and sign it. I asked her, AGAIN, because I didn't know BECAUSE IVE NEVER DONE THIS... Should I write that I'm dropping down to a sales associate and she said "no, you just write that you gave two weeks like we spoke on the phone." I say to her as I'm writing that my start date for the new job got moved to July 6th (one day later) so I had still had that Friday I could give her, making my availability two weeks and and extra day or two. She said my last day would be Friday July 5th.

I signed the paper and handed it to her and as soon as she took it she told me that today was my last day and I could go home.

I looked at her confused, my heart in my chest. Asking her what? What do you mean? Tears already welling in my eyes and my hands shaking. She said she thought I should focus on my full time job and that they were competitors. I said that I hadn't even started yet so time to focus on what? And competitors? I sell wedding dresses..? She quickly snapped back at me saying that I would also be selling shoes and accessories, like WHBM sells. I asked her why it was okay for me to work at another clothing store during the holidays and nothing was ever said then? She had no response. I asked her if I did something wrong. She said, no not at all I just think this is the best thing for you. I gave her my keys, crying and shaking, holding back anxiety because now at this point, I had alot to say but couldn't because of how hard I was holding back a full blown panic attack. I emptied my drawer and left out the back door. I kept my composure until I pulled away from the store and then broke down, screaming, crying, wailing. She knew how much I loved it here and knew I was going to drop down.

I spoke to the DSM (her boss) yesterday, after a chain of phone calls to all of the girls who had become my family. Most of them are older than me by 20 years and it was hard because I knew the age difference was so great that keeping in touch wasn't going to be likely. The DSM had no idea this happened, despite her and my boss talking about things regarding me a few days ago. She didn't know my boss was letting me go. She knew we would be needing someone to help fill in since I would be a sales associate starting July 5th and her other two sales leads would be on vacation.

Is this wrongful termination? Was this decision made out of anger because of me getting a new job? If offered to finish out the two weeks (since I had only worked 4 days out of the 14 before getting shooed out the door.) Should I decline? I'm afraid to go back into the store because of my boss. I realistically could finish it out in another store, but what if it follows me. My boss is constantly in touch with the surrounding stores. I'm scared. My next pay date would have been my last day as a sales lead. But now I'm out of two weeks of pay. I should have opened the store this morning, but here I am.

I'm shattered.

[solidandsound]

I have a whole essay of thoughts on KH3. Let’s see if I can be remotely coherent.

Gameplay is fun. Movement feels good, and so does combat. Keyblade switching is neat, although it would be better if there were some cooler keyblades to use. I’d take Oblivion, Oathkeeper, etc over some of the silly stuff we got. Grand magic is cool. The only new mechanic I don’t like is the attractions. They aren’t fun to use, they don’t feel good, they’re just flashy. But you can mostly ignore them, so overall combat is fun. The real problem is that it’s too easy, even on Proud mode. There were a couple of tricky spots for me early on while Sora’s HP was low, but they really throw those HP upgrades at you and enemy damage doesn’t scale fast enough to continue to be a threat. Even the last boss was basically doing chip damage to me while I took out half a bar of health per fire spell. There was nothing like the Riku fight in KH1 or the final boss sequences for 1 or 2. Other KH games have fights leaving me pumped with adrenaline because they’re so good at keeping you on your toes, but KH3 never got me that worked up. Some folks cite all the powerful finishers, attractions, etc, but I think it could have still been challenging with those things if the damage scaling was better.

Exploration is fun, and I like the different approaches each world took to it, with some being large open spaces and others being more linear. It does make searching for treasure and emblems more difficult, though, and some sort of tool to help with that late game would have been nice.

The worlds themselves and how they play out have their ups and downs. You never really fight any big bads in them, so none of them feel like they have the stakes of KH2 worlds, but they don’t all need to. Olympus was a very solid world, and a pretty good setup for what Sora’s trying to do in KH3 (which unfortunately falls flat later, but in Olympus it feels good). It also sets up some intrigue with Maleficent looking for the box (which goes even more poorly later, but again, here it feels good). It’s a big, pretty playground to experiment with all the new stuff in the game. My only real gripe is Phil’s awkward silence. If you want him to show up, Square, give him at least one line. If you can’t give him any lines, don’t have him show up! This was awkward later with Aeleus and Dilan later as well. They make for such clear time/budget cuts, it breaks immersion something terrible.

Twilight Town was a huge disappointment. While it’s nice that it’s so populated (and that goes for many other worlds as well), only having a small part of what we know to exist available to explore is pretty sad. The story there sets things up so that Pence has to do some research which takes time, so I figured we could come back and go up the hill later, but of course that never happens.

Toy Box was fun. It was nice to have a world where almost all of it is just one big open area with lots of vertical space. The Gigases here were some of the only enemies in the game to pose a threat, but only because you need to also use the Gigases, which makes them and the whole world easy. The idea that the organization is doing research on inanimate objects acquiring hearts is interesting, but never amounts to anything, and the main conflict here goes unresolved until the end credits where it’s maybe kinda resolved without our input.

The Tangled world was interesting. It’s probably the most faithful adaptation of a Disney movie’s plot in a KH world in the series, down to specific scene setups, lines, framing, etc. I thought it was bizarre at first, but exploring the world with Rapunzel, which she’s seeing for the first time, and seeing her reactions to it made me feel like I was playing the game of the movie, in a good way. And of course this world had some gorgeous greenery. It also introduces the New Seven Hearts, which is interesting in theory but ends up being irrelevant and underutilized, especially since it could have fixed a problem that’s present for the entire game.

The bad guys want Sora and co to gather the seven lights. By rescuing Aqua, etc, they are playing into Xehanort’s plan. There should be some conflict about this. As it stands, there’s no tension. We’re not really doing anything to stop their plan. Of course Sora wants to save everyone, but maybe they could wonder if they can just not fight, or hide some people away, or something. But, it’s mentioned that if Sora fails to gather the seven lights, the new princesses can be used instead. That makes them leverage: if Sora and his allies fail to show up to the final battle, then these innocent princesses will be used, which of course forces Sora to move forward with the original plan. There’s conflict and tension there, where currently, in the game, there is none.

Monstropolis is interesting because it serves as a sequel to Monsters Inc, developing the lore of the Disney property in an interesting way. The factory’s a little bland but it has some fun sequences. Boo gets some cute moments. What’s annoying is that a Vanitas fight is teased here, and then ripped away from us. By this point I was dying for a good old classic KH person v. person hardcore showdown, because those are always the best fights, but alas. And of course nothing here ends up being super relevant to the main plot.

The Frozen world was fairly faithful to the movie, similar to the Tangled world, except with Sora mostly doing his own thing while the plot of the movie happened elsewhere. I actually thought this world set up an interesting theme that could have been explored more, which is Sora’s hero complex. He sees Elsa hurting and wants to help her, but it’s not something he can help with, so he has to learn to let her work through it on her own instead of coming to the rescue. Unfortunately they don’t do much with it, but it’s an interesting angle. And the New Seven Hearts come up again, which continues to be a waste of potential. The one thing that stood out as a peculiar choice to me was reanimating the entirety of the Let It Go scene. It was so bizarre I was laughing the whole time. I like the song, but what point did that serve? I actually heard a streamer mention that Elsa sings all of Let It Go when I watched some prerelease streams, but I assumed he was joking.

The Pirates world is the only one in this game based on a movie I haven’t seen, so I was a little lost as to the larger plot, but it gave some good characterization for Luxord. It’s nice that he seems to come to this world just because he likes it. I enjoyed the ship exploration and island setup, but I always do (see also: Wind Waker, Suikoden IV). Underwater movement and combat feel much better in this game than Atlantica worlds in earlier games. Ship battles got a little repetitive after a while.

San Fransokyo was one of my favourite worlds. The GTA-esque open city setup is fun, although a little small, and I love that we can see it during the day and at night, although having some chests and emblems only appear at certain times was a bit annoying. The music is excellent here. I like Big Hero 6 a lot, and the story of the world was a very interesting way to build off of the movie. I would love to watch a full BH6 sequel that’s basically the KH3 plot. It’s also a cool and interesting way to reintroduce Dark Riku as a member of the organization. Even though none of the Disney worlds really advance the plot directly, I’m okay with it because they serve another purpose, which is to slowly reveal organization members, keeping us guessing as to who the full 13 will be. Of course, it would be better if we didn’t see almost everyone in trailers, but it was fun to guess at the ones we didn’t know. What is disappointing about the Disney worlds is that Sora is supposed to be learning how to use the power of waking, but it’s obvious early on that it’s going to work when it needs to and he’s not going to figure it out before then, so that entire quest feels pointless.

In between these we get cutscenes of other plot points, and briefly play Riku in the world of darkness. I don’t like that so much of the cool plot stuff happens elsewhere. To me, that’s all the interesting stuff, the stuff I’m playing KH3 for, and I wanted to be involved in it instead of it happening elsewhere or hearing about it over the gummiphone. I did like that we get to play as Riku, as one of the things I’ve come to love about the series is seeing the different keyblade wielders’ combat styles. I also liked that, after we save Aqua, we get a fight as her. I was pumped to see my favourite keyblade master and the most badass character in the series in action again, but after the fight she gets inexplicably knocked out so that she can be rescued, which was both disappointing and out of character.

And then we go to the Keyblade Graveyard, which is where things really fall apart. First of all, the KG is a disappointing final world. It’s somewhere we’ve been before, and it’s nothing like the big, mysterious final worlds of previous games. The End of the World and the World That Never Was are two of my favourite worlds in the series, and the KG here fails to stack up. The labyrinth is a cool concept, but sorely underutilized. But before we even get there we get a very poorly explained time loop thing, and another moment where Aqua doesn’t seem nearly as capable as we know her to be, not to mention all the other great keyblade wielders with them at that point. We get some sort of afterlife, which complicates the life and death mythos of Kingdom Hearts even further, and we get an optional scene there that really should have been mandatory.

Then we go into the final showdown stuff. What was most exciting leading up to KH3 to me was this promised showdown, the 7 lights vs the 13 darknesses, all the keyblade wielders fighting together against overwhelming odds and kicking butt because they’re all great. Instead, what we get is Sora going through and systematically rescuing every one of his allies. It’s not the 7 lights vs the 13 darknesses, it’s Sora vs the 13 darknesses. What’s the point of having everyone there if Sora does everything in the end anyway? It’s especially grating to have extremely capable people like Aqua have to be rescued again. There’s also the matter of Kairi and Axel, who I was most excited to see finally fight with their keyblades. Instead they get trounced immediately and we don’t get any Kairi action at all, and then she gets fucking kidnapped. I’d understand her being less skilled than the others, but what was all that training for? And Axel may be new to the keyblade, but he’s a great fighter, much better than we see here. It’s all so disappointing. The entire section completely fails to live up to the promise of the big group showdown. We have Riku and Aqua programmed as playable characters, so even if they had been playable for their fights that would have made things feel a lot better, although it doesn’t fix everything. The Kairi issue is the biggest bummer for me.

This is where a lot of the important character stuff is resolved, too, and it’s all done quickly and sloppily. The ‘fight, stop for a cutscene, continue the fight, get another cutscene’ format is lazy and immersion breaking. Xion shows up with very little explanation. The whole struggle with her is that no one remembers her, and yet that’s brushed aside without ever really being addressed. And no one really gets the time they need to live in these moments of being reunited with the people they care about. I wanted to see more of them interacting, and more characters interacting who never have before but have clear links to each other. The way everything was quickly resolved, and the way things are set up for the future, makes me think Nomura was getting bored of these characters and wanted to get them out of the way as quickly as possible to move on to his current infatuation, which is the mobile game garbage.

It’s not as if I dislike everything the mobile game has to offer in terms of story and lore additions, but too much of that stuff bled into KH3. The thing where Sora summons the power of all the past keyblade wielders was fine, although I don’t like the 4th wall breaking of including everyone’s usernames. Still, it’s innocent enough. Making the epilogue all about the mobile game, tying the motivations of characters from earlier games to stuff from the mobile game, and introducing new mysteries that are clearly tied to the mobile game but never get resolved here lessened the quality of KH3. I expect some new mysteries and elements to be introduced each game to tease sequels. But in most games, those aspects were relegated to the secret endings and secret reports. That way you get a full game, leaving you feeling satisfied as you watch the ending, and then getting a teaser for another satisfying experience to come. For KH3, as I watched the ending I wasn’t satisfied. There was still too much left unresolved, or poorly resolved, things I needed from the game that I didn’t get. I was still looking for those things when I got to the secret ending, and of course it offered no closure. It made this entire game feel like sequel bait, when this is the game the previous games were supposed to be sequel bait for. I feel like I’m being strung along by the developers and taken advantage of.

There are some things I like about the ending. Although I don’t like the way it was shown so briefly and vaguely, I like the idea that Sora sacrificed himself to save Kairi. In multiple worlds in this game, we see characters try to sacrifice themselves for their loved ones, so when Sora does it, it makes for an interesting thematic link between the Disney content and main story content. I also like that the game seems to imply a switching of roles for Sora and Kairi, in the way the shots are framed so that Kairi is where Sora normally would be. This is the one thing that made me excited for future games: the thought that maybe Kairi could be the protagonist and go on her own journey to save Sora, that she could finally fucking do something other than be the damsel and love interest. Both KH2 and DDD suggested that she would have a more active role as well, though, and look how that turned out. So, I don’t trust it, especially with the secret ending showing Sora and Riku.

Speaking of which… Yozora. He’s clearly a Versus XIII reference, and I thought it was rightfully petty and hilarious when I saw the Toy Box scene, like Nomura was showing off how much cooler his game would have been than FFXV. Seeing Yozora in the secret ending makes me worry, though. Is he so petty that he would use a future KH game as a vehicle for the characters and ideas that didn’t come to fruition with Versus? With this and all the mobile game stuff, not to mention the general quality of KH3, I’m seriously worried about future games. For over a decade I’ve been thrilled every time a new KH game was announced. Now, though, I feel I’m going to have to be more cautious. It’s not a good feeling to have. Kingdom Hearts has never been perfect, but KH3 makes me feel like Nomura has forgotten what it is that made Kingdom Hearts great in the first place.

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 8: The Great Agustrian Depression Epidemic

Part 7

Against my better judgement, welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War. Last time, Agustria just… just kicked me in the teeth over and over and over. I swear to Loptyr I remember being better at this game.  

Well. Let’s see how I do this week. Maybe I just had bad luck. Repeatedly.

Honoring his promise to Eldigan, Sigurd allows Chagall his freedom and does not interfere.

(Neither his first mistake nor his last!)

Sigurd adopts Agusty as his headquarters, and while his troops there recuperate, he persists in negotiating Agustria’s return to governance by its own king. Despite his determination to restore Chagall’s rule

(Which I cannot stress enough, is a terrible idea.)

his orders from Belhalla never change: remain in Agusty and govern its citizens.  Scarcely six months have passed, and yet Grannvale’s ruling administrators have already grown arrogant and taken to abusing their power over Agustria for their own gain.

(Well, considering what their lords were like, this should honestly be pretty familiar to the Agustrians. So that’s nice.)

Day by day, the Agustrian people grow ever wearier of Grannvale’s actions. Before long, as he feared, Sigurd finds himself yet again caught in a new conflict. Reports abound of Chagall raising his army anew at Madino Castle, vying to reclaim his lost capital from Sigurd.

to sweep in and profit from the land’s chaos. Belhalla’s orders demand that Sigurd must maintain control of Agusty above all else. Sigurd’s heart lies heavy in the face of the impending crisis.

Southwest of Madino, Eldigan’s forces hold the defenses of Fort SIlvail.  The looming battle for Agustria… a trial between friendship and loyalty.  Before Sigurd looms a final battle in Agustria’s north… a showdown fated to shape the course of Jugdral’s history.

Chagall, Unaware the chapter opening narration told us he was coming: This is our final chance to return Agusty to our control. Just look at them… lingering in my kingdom, oh-so-carefree.  I grow weary of them. They will pay dearly for this! Jacoban! Where’s that lousy sellsword gotten to this time?

Jacoban: Yeah, I know. Might be a boring job, but you’re payin’ awfully well for it. Let’s see ‘em learn to fear my Bolt Sword.

Chagall: That’s what I like to hear. Don’t fail me. Now, Eldigan’s still at Silvail, is he? Hm… how will he take this? I wonder…

Eldigan: Gah… I couldn’t possibly fight Sigurd. What in the world can I do now…

(Prior events suggest what you do will be ‘whatever would be most stupid’.)

Large Haired Pirate: This is our chance, I reckon, with nuthin’ stopping us from fleecing the villages.  Both them armies will be at each other’s throats, so there’ll be nobody interested in gettin’ between us an’ the villages.  

Captain Jill Sparrow: Shut it, Duvall! I won’t allow any petty thefts under my watch. I refuse to let us sink so low. Don’t forget, we’re heroic thieves. That’s what the name of Orgahil now means to the world!

Generic Idiot: That wench struts aroun’ like the boss, but she ain’t really the ol’ capn’s sprog.

(…………… Sprog?)

Definitely Going to Die: The cap’n just found her lost when she was a tiny thing, an’ raised her as ‘is own. She still took over when ‘e died, but little she knows she ain’t really his brat. She ain’t the real boss, so there’s nuffin’ t’worry bout.  

(Oh, you have no idea.)

Doomed and With Bad Hair: Now, let’s go ‘elp ourselves to treasure!

(“And Chagall has been so reasonable up until now!”)

Sigurd: Where in the blazes is Eldigan…

Oifey: That isn’t all, sire. It appears that pirates from Orgahil are attacking amidst the confusion.

Sigurd: Is that so… I suppose we’ve no choice, then. Ready everyone for battle.  

Sigurd: Seliph is but a newborn, and he needs you.

(Yes, they had a baby in the last six months. Yes, that means Deirdre was three months pregnant during the last chapter. Yes, nobody mentioned that. Moving on!)

Deirdre, Mother of All Demons: Yes, dear…

Sigurd:  You needn’t look so anxious, Deirdre. I’ll be back before long, I promise. Shanan, I’ve a favor to ask of you. Would you look after Deirdre and Seliph, please?

Sigurd: At the very least, Deirdre, he ought to keep you in good cheer.

(“His parents and grandfather were slaughtered in a senseless border war, which always turns kids into a barrel of laughs.”)

Sigurd: Don’t worry about a thing, Deirdre. I’ll be back for you. I promise.

Deirdre-of-the-End: Milord…

So there’s our setup. We’re surrounded by Agustria’s army that they probably should have used last week, and Deirdre and Sigurd have a child. Also, Shanan is still hanging around! Raise your hand if you forgot about him.

*raises hand*

By now, you know the drill.  First, the store; it is now fully stocked with bitchin’ silver weapons! I don’t buy a lot yet, for reasons, but I do pick up a Silver Sword for Holyn. Squeeee!  SQUEEEEEE! I also have Deirdre sell her Silence staff and give it to Aideen, who shall now be Deirdre 2, and her Magic Ring goes to Azel who will be Deirdre 3.

…

I’m told that Azel has protested this announcement, so I think we’ll just stick to their real names.

And now, the Arena:

Sigurd:  Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Strength, +2 Luck, +2 Defense.

Quan: Six wins, Gained two levels: +2HP, +1 Strength. +1 Magic, +1 Defense

Ethlyn: Five wins, gained one level: +1 HP.  Why.  

Arden: Four wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Defense

Noish: Dead to me. He knows what he did.

Alec: Three wins, Gained one level, +1 HP, +1 Luck.

Finn: Six wins, gained two levels: +1 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Luck

Lex:  Gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Azel: Six wins, Gained two levels: +1 HP, +2 Speed, +1 Magic, +1 Resistance

Midir: Six wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Defense, +1 Resistance

Holyn: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Speed, +1 Luck, +2 Defense

Ayra: Seven wins, gained three levels: +2 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Speed, +1 Strength, +2 Magic, +1 Luck

Jamke: Seven wins, Gained four levels: +3 HP, +1 Skill, +2 Speed, +1 Luck

Dew: Three wins, gained two levels: +1 HP, +1 Skill, +2 Strength, +1 Resistance

Lewyn: Seven wins, Gained three levels: +3 HP, +1 Skill, +3 Speed, +2 Magic

Lachesis: Five wins, Gained two levels: +2 Strength, +1 Speed, +2 Defense

Beowulf: Five wins, Gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Strength

Erin: Four wins, Gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Skill. That perfect performance didn’t last long, huh.

Well, that was a mixed goddamn bag. Still, more of them succeeded than failed and that’s what really matters. Poor Quan wasn’t able to finish for the first time; the last rank is a Great Knight with a brave axe, and his weapon triangle disadvantage was just too much to overcome.  Azel will be finishing up before the end of the chapter; he literally just needs to dodge once to win the final round, and the only reason he can’t do it now is bad RNG.

So here’s our map.  Three castles, total; Silvail to the west, Madino to the north, and Orgahil to the far north, but at the moment only Madino is available.  The red x’s mark the location of enemy squads; as Oifey said, we start the map off surrounded. Further, there are Orgahil pirates all over the map moving in on the various villages.  We’ll need to split up if we want to reach them all in time.  But first…

Lex: Sheesh! Courteous as ever, aren’t you?

Ayra: Look, get to your point, whatever it may be. I’ve better things to do than waste time on you.

Lex: Hold on, I’ve got a little gift here. I thought of you the moment I saw it.  

Ayra: You can foist it on some other woman. I’ve no use for such trinkets.

Lex: Heh… not even something like this?

Ayra: Oh? … Wait! That’s-

Lex: Ah, good! You’re well acquainted with the famous Brave Sword, then.

Ayra: I never thought I’d see a real one! Never have I seen a blade so beautiful…

Lex: Glad you like it! It’s yours. I guess I’ll see you around, Ayra.  

Ayra: Er, Lex! Wait a moment…

*Lex leaves*

Ayra: … Oh…

Remember, kids. Don’t be rude, because sometimes a person you thought was a loser will give you a free weapon.  

… Wait.

Anyway, that conversation only happens if Ayra is not in a romance with anyone as of Chapter 3, so remember to keep her far away from dudes. She can also have the same conversation with Holyn instead of Lex, but I’d prefer she marry Lex or Jamke, so I went with him instead.  

And yes, she can use Astra with the Brave Sword, and yes it does hit ten times. Hehehehehehehhe…

Now, splitting up. To the west, I send Quan, Ethlyn, Lachesis, and Beowulf. To the north, the biggest squad: Sigurd (needed to take the castle), Lewyn, Dew, Erin, Holyn, Arden, Aideen, and Azel.  To the east, Ayra, Jamke, Finn, Alec, and Midir. This group will spilt up again after dealing with the eastern front; the cavalry units will head west to prepare for the inevitable attack on Silvail, and the infantry will go north.   Lex, who definitely doesn’t need any more experience, will be guarding the castle.  Sylvia will be mostly sitting this map out, because I don’t want her to accidentally marry someone.  She’s tricky.  

The first few turns are just spent moving, because this map is huge and empty. Only Midir meets an enemy, this javelin dude who inexplicably rushed out ahead.

He is taught not to talk to strangers.  The rest of the eastern front begins to split already; Alex and Midir running up toward a village that a pirate has already reached, the rest getting ready to wreck shop on some fools.

… Like 90% success?

Anyway, by this point, the northern and western fronts have also made some friends. Everyone, be friends!

It’s so nice to be friendly.  Meanwhile, on the enemy phase, the loss of their capital fills the Agustrian Army with intense depression, and they begin a series of elaborate ritual suicides.

Yes, that is seriously like five enemy units in a row choosing to go after the only enemy nearby who could not merely hit them back but handily win such an encounter.  I… I don’t even know.  I really don’t.   It’s so brutal that when my turn comes back around, I’m really down to just mopping up.  

Or, you know, what would be mopping up if Dew had any killing power at all. At least Aideen puts her new long-range healing staff to good use.

That’s the stuff. And on the western front, we’re in a similar position, so I have Quan clean up the only surviving threat after the others did their stuff.

Not so much fun when the Horseslayer’s in my hands, huh jackass? Beowulf Beowfulfs his last surviving minion, and the ladies do some healing.  To end my turn, I rush Finn, Midir, and Alec up to the villages they are nearest before they start heading west, and move Azel alone into the range of the last enemy squad on the map.  

They’re all fire mages and he’s got a thunder tome for weapon triangle advantage, plus being parked on a forest. This should be fun.  End turn.

… Why, though?!

This at least makes sense. They had no other targets. But seriously, this is just screwing with my head. Last week the AI was running rings around me, and this week it seems to have just given up. My turn begins with just a little more cleanup; Azel starts mangling the stragglers of his unit, while Midir and Finn clear the first village of vile piracy.  

A few little heals to round things out, and I move Sigurd and Arden up to start drawing out Madino’s defenders, while Erin swoops up toward a pirate going for the villages; there’s ballistae, so she can’t engage at the main battle right now anyway. This is going pretty smoothly, so I’m a little worried. What can go wrong?

N… nothing. Nothing went… wrong.  

Huh. Well.  The enemy army has some mages in it, which Arden cannot handle, so I do pull back slightly and have Aideen cap up his health.  Erin strikes a blow against piracy, and gains a level.  

Midir clears another village, and Azel and Ethlyn both start moving to the main conflict.  The only one in range of a large number of enemies right now is Sigurd, who the AI usually doesn’t prioritize because he’s a damn killing machine.  End turn.  

… I did say usually. Luckily, he survives, though it was damn close.  Fortunately, we have an app for that now.  

Even more fortunately, the tide has well and truly turned.  Holyn assassinates the remaining mage, and the eastern front catches up to the center.

Other than Alec being his old self at the end there, pretty optimal! And yes, I do realize Sigurd is past level 20; he can’t promote. Or rather, he starts the game already promoted. Same with Quan. They’re so badass because they have that +5 stat boost when the game starts, instead of picking it up along the way 

The only thing I’m worried about is Finn being more hurt than I remembered. I don’t think they’ll go for him, with Jamke and Aideen both in range, but… end turn.

Fuuuuuuck…

Oh, you magnificent son of a bitch, I could kiss you.

The enemy ends it phase by having their healer move down, for some reason; he has a long range healing staff, but maybe he missed his friends. Anyway, he has low defense and no ability to attack, so he’s all yours, Dew!  

Oooh, and he was pretty loaded too! After that, it’s a matter of clean-up once again…

While Ethlyn and Aideen do some healing to patch up the horses for the long ride over toward Silvail, and Sigurd, Lewyn, Holyn, and Arden go north to neutralize the ballistae around the castle and stop the final two pirates. End turn!

The enemy phase is honestly kinda sad. All the ballistae shoot. All of them miss. And then on my turn…

Dew, you are being much less reliable than usual this run. I’m taking risks on you, you know.  Lachesis would do great things with that Paragon Band. End turn; there’s not really any enemies left to have an enemy phase, so it’s just dodging some ballista bolts while Dew bullies a priest.  On my phase, Arden smacks the last pirate, while Azel frees a village.  

Man Who Doesn’t Know What ‘Pirate’ Means: We could’ve sworn that boss of theirs was a good lass… Bridget or something, was it?

Do you remember Bridget being mentioned before? Think baaaaaaaack~

Anyway, I think it’s time to take Midano.  The ballista falls;

And the war machine rolls to life.  

Tastes pretty good. Ayra gets the bolt sword, which isn’t great but gives her a distance option.  Dew continues to pick on a monk.  The healers do some healin’.

And other than Aideen, continue to gain levels that make one forget they are healers.  We pause here for a moment to get some ducks in a row; the cavalry group up on Silvail.  Azel gets warped home to finish the arena.

Much better. I also pull Lex and Sylvia out of Agusty and send them to Silvail too; it’s all hands on deck for this motherfucker. Dew finally finishes murdering a priest, as well:

See, if you got that sort of thing every level, you wouldn’t even need to promote. You could just kill people with your burning stare.  

And with that, time to seize Midano.

(I would say ‘poor Eldigan, having to share a house with Chagall’, but honestly he’s kind of earned this.)

Sigurd: His Cross Knights are the last remains of Agustria’s army. At this rate, all should be well if we can subdue them, but…

(Shit, neutral units.)

Oifey: Sire, we have a visitor. Father Claude of Edda has just arrived.

Sigurd: Father Claude!  See him in, please.  

(If you don’t remember him, and I don’t blame you since he was only mentioned once in the prologue, Father Claude is the Duke of Edda. And, as the name implies, a priest. Don’t worry, they aren’t celibate in this universe, so he’s not gonna be starting a war or anything over succession. Just ask Aideen and her sexy green-haired man-candy.)  

Claude: Prince Kurth is dead. He was murdered en route from Isaach.  

Sigurd: What?! This can’t be… who could have done this?!

Claude: Lord Byron was once constantly by His Higness’s side… yet, ever since the murder, he is nowhere to be found. I regret to say this, but… as it stands, Lord Byron… your father… is the prime suspect.

Sigurd: Wh-what?! That’s impossible!

Claude: I am sorry to say there’s been nothing but horrid rumors in Grannvale lately. Among them are those which say you and your father worked in concert to assassinate the prince… alas, His Majesty’s anguish over the affair has rendered him dreadfully ill.

Sigurd: My father was already the prince’s closest confidante! What could he have possibly gained from the prince’s demise?! Surely, wouldn’t Reptor, Langbalt, and the others who opposed the prince be the likely culprits?

(… Holy Shit, Sigurd, you used your brain to make a statement of logic! Keep that up!)

Claude: I am of the same mind, but we’ve no evidence tying either to the crime.  And Reptor and his minions currently hold a great sway over the royal court.  

Sigurd: What about Lord Arvis, his Majesty’s aide? Do you know where he stands on this?

Claude: I cannot say for sure. He seems to hold no enmity toward you, but I am loath to consider him an ally…

Sigurd: Hm… I worry for my father. If I could, I’d head home now and do what I can to heal, but my orders haven’t changed. I still need to hold Agustria. Please, Your Grace… do you have any idea what I should do?

(No! No, dammit, Sigurd, you were doing so well!)

Claude: I am on my way to the Tower of Bragi, on the island to the north-west of here. As an heir to the great Saint Bragi, if I pray at our sacred tower, the truth shall be revealed to me.

Sigurd: Hm? Aren’t you Taillte of House Freege? What are you doing with Father Claude?

Taillte: Wouldn’t you worry if I left him to wander all his lonesome? Somebody’s got to protect him.

(Her name is actually supposed to be Tailtiu, but you know what, I don’t mind Taillte and Lachesis is hard enough to keep this constantly going.)

Sigurd: But you’re Duke Reptor’s daughter…

Taillte: I just can’t wrap my head around father’s schemes, you know? Besides, I love the priest!

Claude: Gods, give me strength to cope with this child…

(You’re okay, Claude.)

Claude: Anyway, I’ll rendezvous with your group once I’ve learned the truth. I pray we’ll both return home this day.

Sigurd: As do I, Father Claude. I can’t thank you enough.

And with that, Father Claude and his slightly dippy helper head off to talk to the gods, and we cut off here. See you next-

(DEIRDRE, THE SMALL CHILD SHOULD NOT BE ACTING MORE LOGICAL THAN YOU)

Deirdre: I know. I want you to look after Seliph while I’m gone.

Shanan: No way! I’m just a kid. I can’t look after a baby all by myself.  

Deirdre: I won’t be long. I promise. Please, Shanan… I implore you…

(SERIOUSLY, DEIRDRE, I KNOW WE’VE BEEN JOKING ABOUT HOW DEADLY YOU ARE BUT THERE’S LITERALLY NO SITUATION WHERE SIGURD COULD EVER NEED YOUR HELP. STAY HOME.)

Shanan: Okay, fine. I’ll look after him. Just be careful out there and get back here as soon as you can, okay?

Deirdre: Thank you, Shanan. I’m sorry, Seliph, I’ll be back for you right away.  

(FUCK)

Deirdre: Oh? Who are you? … Wait, how do you know my mother?

Manfroy: Kehehehehe… the day of your rebirth is upon us. Through my black magic, the slate of your life will be cleansed, paving the way for your true husband… your fate was written the day you were born. There’s no use in fighting destiny.  

Deirdre: Wh-what are you doing?! Stop it!  No!  … … Aaaah… Sig… u…r…

……………….

………………………………….

………………………………………………….

WELL THANKS FOR HELPING OUT THERE, AZEL AND ERIN.

[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: iv

part iii/AO3.

The incredibly stupid (and rather terrifying) situation that Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan has presently found himself in goes like this.

Something feels off about the botched operation the instant he gets off the phone with Neville, and since Wyatt is still technically the official personnel assigned to this case, if he doesn’t want to drop it, he doesn’t have to. He stands there in the middle of the pickup curb at LAX, being jostled to every side by passing travelers, until he decides he should, if nothing else, get out of the way. Heads back to his car, stares through the windshield for a long moment, then takes out his phone again. Sorry babe, he texts Jessica. Order some pizza and invite some friends. Don’t think I’m making it home tonight.

With that, he tosses the phone into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt. Jessica knew when she married a serviceman, especially one in special ops, that it would be a lot of long separations and unexplained absences, and she’s held up admirably thus far, but she has to be wondering when the buck finally stops. So is Wyatt, for that matter. They need this. They love each other a lot, but they’ve become different people during his last three deployments. A relationship can’t survive forever on Skype calls and care packages.

Putting that out of his head for now, Wyatt turns on the engine, pays the exorbitant parking charge, and rolls into downtown L.A. He can’t help wondering if he’s been outsmarted and the mark is going to turn up at the Burberry store now that a potential accomplice has given him the all-clear. But how would a relatively routine drug runner, or even mid-level member of the mob, be privy to the classified details of a Delta Force sting arranged just hours ago? Their counterintelligence is good, but not that good. And while tons of information isn’t exactly par for the course in this job, they usually at least give you a name. Even a fake one.

At that, Wyatt makes a decision. He isn’t hauling all the way back to San Diego tonight, and he’s gonna drop by Bam-Bam’s. Dave Baumgardner, given the nickname for his enthusiasm for certain parts of the job, is on leave, but he lives here. Has a nice bachelor pad in Westwood. His dad is rich, because Bam-Bam definitely does not make enough money to afford it by serving in the army, even in a specialized unit. At least Wyatt can get a second pair of eyes on this, judge if there’s actually a wrench in the spanner, or he’s just being paranoid. Everyone in their line of work knows it happens eventually.

Traffic is a crawl up 405, because aside from all the other reasons for L.A. to have terrible traffic, there’s a Los Angeles Tech Convention and some billionaire bigwig named Connor Mason is the featured attraction. Has all kind of gizmos he’s wheeling out for public display for the first time ever, so this place is Nerd Mecca. In Wyatt’s opinion, it’s bad enough they keep inventing new iPhones every year. Who needs all that?

He sighs, reminds himself not to be quite so curmudgeonly, and makes it to Westwood with only two minor road-rage incidents. Pulls up in front of Bam-Bam’s place, parks, and heads up the walk. Technically the term for what Bam-Bam is on is “paid administrative leave,” because there’s still some question about whether his actions on the Abu Dhabi mission were entirely necessary. This is, also in Wyatt’s opinion, a dog-and-pony show. The U.S. government pays David Baumgardner to kill people, and the legality isn’t something they’re concerned with except when it appears in the press. It does occur to him to wonder if this is a great place to be asking advice, but hell, he’s here now.

A few moments after his knock, Bam-Bam opens the door, holding a sweating Budweiser bottle and looking surprised. “Hey, Logan! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Complicated,” Wyatt says briefly. “You gonna let me into your beer and porn den, or what?”

Bam-Bam smirks, gives him a bro clap on the shoulder, and leads him into the kitchen, where he twists the cap off another cold Bud and hands it over. Wyatt takes a long swig, leaning against the counter, then follows Bam-Bam out to the porch. Here in an airy, comfortable suburban backyard, it feels as if he might definitely be overstating things, but no point chickening out now. As economically as he can, he explains his hunch. The fact that he can’t be sure, but this feels like a setup, and not in the right way. Bam-Bam might be trigger-happy, but he’s a good soldier. Wyatt trusts his instincts.

“Huh,” Baumgardner says, when he finishes. “That is a little weird.”

“Okay, so it isn’t just me?”

“No, that does sound off the ranch. Not even this guy’s name or who he’s supposed to be working for – ‘Ndrangheta, Yakuza, plain old Mafia, Big Pimpin’ dealing weed down in Compton?” Bam-Bam takes another slug of beer. “Who’d you piss off?”

“Nobody,” Wyatt says. “Far as I know. This all came out of nowhere. Yesterday I thought I was finally going to have a real weekend with Jess, today I’m here with… this.”

“Just send her a dick pic.” Bam-Bam finishes off the Budweiser and chucks it expertly across the lawn into the recycling. “Tide her over?”

Wyatt gives him a cold fish stare, as he doesn’t think that any woman, not even his wife, just magically needs his genitals to appear in their life. “Good thing I don’t ask you for romantic advice, you dog.”

“Whatever.” Bam-Bam shrugs. “Anyway, what are you planning to do about this?”

That catches Wyatt short. He doesn’t actually know. Critical thinking is a valued skill for a solo operative, but independent thinking, less so. A soldier follows orders, he doesn’t start yanking at threads and veering off on tangents and trying to rewrite the script, thinks he knows better than the brass and can do whatever he wants. Finally he says, “Should we call someone?” You never know. Pestering the boss could do something.

“Guess you could try? I’d call my dad, actually, but he’s at some retreat up in the Bay Area this weekend.” Bam-Bam’s rich daddy, Rick, is a defense lawyer in Orange County and makes gigabucks shielding even richer assholes from the consequences of their crimes. In other words, if there’s a big bust afoot, he might know something about it, albeit on less official channels. “Leadership development potential, or whatever.”

“Can you call him anyway?”

“Because my Delta Force buddy thinks something smells a little fishy about one of his jobs?” Bam-Bam gives Wyatt a weird look. “This is still classified, remember?”

“You don’t have to tell him it was me. Just put it in general terms.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work. Anything else?”

Wyatt racks his brains, trying to recall the paperwork he skimmed through quickly to get to the operational summary. This is probably a cautionary tale about why you should actually read it. “I think there were initials? Dunno if it corresponded to the guy at all. G.F.? And something about an unauthorized investigation.”

“Shit.” Baumgardner’s eyes widen. “Garcia Flynn?”

“What?” That catches Wyatt off guard. “Who?”

“He works in the NSA. He’s from somewhere in former shithole-Soviet land, he’s been in Eastern Europe for most of that time. I met him a few times, actually. He’s about the one guy who could take me in a shooting contest.” Bam-Bam sounds proud of this, which Wyatt finds worrying – is this the guy they sent him into LAX to take down, solo op, civilians to every side? “Anyway, though, that’s not why I thought of him. My dad was just talking about him earlier. Apparently Flynn’s lost his marbles, and that worries people.”

“Your dad’s work colleagues? Flynn sounds like the exact kind of client they love.”

“You think anyone from Orange County is gonna defend a possible Russian mole?”

“Yeah. Probably have three on the payroll already. Is that what they think he is? A mole? How the hell is that too controversial to tell me?”

“Look, man, I don’t know. This is probably on shaky confidentiality grounds anyway, but you and I are on the same security clearance, so…” Firearms-related or otherwise, David Baumgardner has never been bound too strictly by an exacting observance of the rules. “You wanna stay and play some Halo, or go and do your fucking job?”

“Probably the latter, huh? Not all of us get to sit on our ass and stuff our face right now like you.” Wyatt slugs down the last of his beer and stands up. “Do you have anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”

Bam-Bam considers, frowning. Then he says, “I think my dad knows that tech guy who’s in town for the convention. Connor Mason. If you wanna pull rank and flash a badge at him, pull him off into some back room and scare him, he could be helpful. Not sure, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll get a last-minute ticket to that and haul the keynote speaker off the stage in front of ten thousand hyped-up nerds?” Wyatt looks at the ceiling, then blows out a breath. “Not like I got anything else to try. Thanks, buddy. Hope they let you out of the doghouse soon.”

With a quick hand-shake and bro-hug, he lets himself out, gets back in the car, and drives to the packed convention center, which involves subjecting himself to I-10 at peak evening hours and thus takes approximately eighty-one eons. It takes him several more after that to find a parking space, which is practically in Chavez Ravine, and he heads to the door and asks to speak to the security staff. It takes (more) time, but he finally gets the head honcho, introduces himself quietly as Delta Force, and says there may be a security threat that he needs to speak to Mr. Mason about. Yes, he knows that Mr. Mason is scheduled to give the kickoff speech at 7:00pm, which is nineteen minutes from now. It’s urgent.

The security guys look at each other, but after Wyatt repeats “credible security threat” a few more times, one of them slopes off to get Mason. He arrives fixing his cufflinks and the microphone pinned to his lapel – twelve minutes to go – and clearly angry at the interruption. “They said there was some bloke who wanted to talk to me? Now?”

“That’s me, Mr. Mason.” Wyatt clears his throat, with a significant look at the others ordering them to scuttle off. “This won’t take long.”

“It better not.” Mason is a bald black British guy in a very expensive suit, who has not gotten to the level of success that he has by tolerating fools. “Well?”

Wyatt checks that they’re alone. “Do you know a Garcia Flynn?”

It’s a good thing Mason wasn’t trying to take a drink, otherwise he definitely would have done a spit-take. He takes half a step backwards, as if Wyatt has turned radioactive. “I’m sorry,” he manages, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “Who did you say you were with, again?”

“I didn’t.” Wyatt takes a step of his own, in case Mason tries to bolt. “You’re the one in the hurry. Tell me what I want to know, we can make it quick. Well?”

“You’re… not…?” Mason’s eyes search Wyatt’s face, as if trying to uncover a mask, a sudden reveal. “Is this some attempt to punish me for not attending the…? I’ve told them, many times, that the work is on schedule, and…”

“What work?” Wyatt asks. “On schedule for who? Not attending the what?”

Mason’s eyes flick from side to side again. He scrutinizes Wyatt carefully, then asks all of a sudden, “Scientia potential est?”

“Is that Latin?” Wyatt is more baffled than ever. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So you’re not.” Mason seems to have been checking something. Rather belatedly, he hitches his professional, P.T. Barnum smile back into place. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. …?”

“Smith.” Wyatt is pretty sure Mason is lying out his ass, but he’s not sure how to force him, short of tackling him and dragging him off to a broom closet for the old shock-and-awe routine Bam-Bam recommended – and that is definitely a bad idea. “You really sure you don’t know anything about Garcia Flynn? Really sure?”

“Absolutely.” Mason almost sells it, too. There’s a moment more in which they stare at each other, and then there’s a harried knock on the door.

Mason turns away to open it, and a young African-American man in a MIT sweatshirt sticks his head in, looking frazzled. “Mr. Mason, what the hell? Your cue’s in five minutes!”

“Yes, Rufus, of course. My apologies, I was unavoidably detained by G.I. Joe here.” Mason tweaks his cuffs, stares back at Wyatt, and turns on his heel with a slight, sarcastic flourish, marching out after his – assistant, aide, graduate student, whatever Rufus is. Wyatt has about five seconds to decide if he is in fact going to throw his weight around – he’s not a cop, and if he’s going to hold Mason for questioning, he needs something to, you know, actually question him about. Mason seems like a smarmy dick, but that’s not illegal. But who the crap do he and Rick Baumgardner both know that makes Garcia Flynn a potential problem for them? They’re both rich, successful corporate types. Bam-Bam said that Flynn’s in the NSA. Has he gone black hat, exploiting security loopholes in their servers and threatening to hold their trade secrets for ransom? Sophisticated cybercrime? But then why wouldn’t Mason want him taken down? Or does he, but he doesn’t want to tell Wyatt how he knows him?

Yeah. There’s something really fucking fishy going on here, it’s not just Wyatt’s imagination. As Mason and Rufus vanish down the corridor, he blows out a breath and tries to work out what to do next. He can’t tap Bam-Bam for any actual action, he’s still on leave, and that would land Wyatt’s ass in hot water right next to him. And yet again, the question remains. Action against who? It feels like kickboxing with your own shadow.

Wyatt thanks the security guys, assures them the threat has been dealt with (which is a lie, but he doesn’t know what else to say), then hikes back to his car, pulls out his phone, and scrolls down to the encrypted numbers, the ones you don’t call except on (hopefully) rare occasions. Once it’s been picked up and he’s gone through the various steps of verifying his identity, he is finally transferred to whatever Lovecraftian horror that is the NSA switchboard room, insists he has the proper clearance to three different people (you’d really think the U.S. government would be better at sharing intelligence and coordinating between departments, but nooooope) and finally, finally gets someone to tell him that yes, Garcia Flynn is an agent on active roster. As far as they know, he still is, but he has missed a scheduled check-in and reassignment. That was supposed to take place today. This afternoon, at the Tom Bradley International Terminal in LAX. At the Burberry store. He didn’t show.

At that, Wyatt feels a goose walking over his grave, as the saying goes. What the shit. He was sent to arrest – as far as Flynn’s bosses know – an agent still on his regular assignment, a fellow high-level, elite operative, but why? Someone who has been, apparently, making trouble for Rick Baumgardner and Connor Mason’s chummy corporate buddies? Mason assured Wyatt that the work was on schedule – what work? Did Wyatt just stumble into the middle of an attempt to whistleblow a whistleblower – stop Flynn before he can pull the clothes off whatever emperor he is trying to disrobe? What. The fuck.

It takes Wyatt several more minutes of cajoling, but he finally convinces the NSA lackey that he’ll try to get in contact with Flynn, put him off his guard, and see if there’s anything he can extract about this very, very puzzling situation. The lackey gives him the company phone number that they have on file for Flynn, and Wyatt jots it down on his hand. He thanks the guy, then hangs up.

Wyatt isn’t nearly stupid enough to call a potential hostile on his own government phone, especially since that could lead to him getting tracked. So he starts the car, wearily girds his loins for his – what – fourth go-round with L.A. traffic for the day, and drives off to the kind of totally reputable establishment on Sepulveda Boulevard that sells burner phones that can be bought with cash. By the time he’s done that, it’s getting quite late, and Wyatt is starving, so he makes an In-n-Out run. He scoffs it down, buys a second burger for the road, and sits in the restaurant until he’s pretty sure the traffic will only be mildly exasperating rather than hellmouth terrible. Then he trucks out, gets back in, and drives off to a deserted high school parking lot. According to the dash clock, it is 11:23 pm.

This is probably a horrible idea. The guy could be full-on, off-the-ranch insane. Or – almost more frighteningly – he couldn’t be.

Wyatt checks that the number on his hand hasn’t gotten too smudged, and dials.

Lucy is getting changed into the Walmart pajamas when she hears Flynn having a terse conversation through the door. He’s keeping his voice down, so it’s hard to make it out, but it sounds like it’s important. God, not something else, not now. This has already been the absolute hell of a day, and she just wants it to be over. Please no more.

She combs out her tangled hair and brushes her teeth with the toiletries he also got, which was nice of him. So was the rescue, if that’s what Lucy wants to call it. She had everything under control, or so she would like to think. Told Cahill five minutes, and then… well, then she was somehow changing for an evening party with his serried social set, they were telling her how great she was, and she kept swearing that she was about to make a run for it somehow. And then out of nowhere, dragging her back into the library with its mounted deer head, scaring the life out of her and yet making her never so grateful to see anyone, Flynn. He keeps doing this. Turning up, and saving her. The last several times, from situations he put her in in the first place, but still. And that car with Benjamin Cahill and company, that wasn’t him. That was something else entirely, and Lucy didn’t like it.

She clenches her hands,which briefly seem inclined to tremble, and looks at herself in the mirror. She is a little pale and wan, dark smears of washed-off makeup lingering beneath her eyes, but she still seems like her. She waits until Flynn has finished his conversation, out of her usual polite instinct not to interrupt someone else’s private business, then steps out of the bathroom. “Who was that?”

Flynn jumps, then puts down the phone, which he has been glaring at as if expecting further information, or just because he’s annoyed. “You should probably go to sleep.”

“Maybe.” Lucy folds her arms. “Who was that?”

Flynn considers her, then gets abruptly to his feet, which is a fairly imposing thing for him to do. “You aren’t working for Rittenhouse,” he says, half as a statement and half as a challenge. “Are you? Some play-pretty-and-ignorant act, some very deep cover?”

“I am not working for Rittenhouse!” Lucy bristles. “Didn’t we settle that? Would I have left with you, or just gone to take a shower, instead of – I don’t know, calling someone and tipping them off where we are?”

“I was gone for a good twenty minutes or so,” Flynn points out. “I don’t know that you didn’t call someone.”

“I didn’t. Here, check my phone if you like.” Lucy thrusts it at him. “Besides, if you really thought I might be some kind of deep-cover agent, why did you rescue me?”

Flynn opens his mouth, realizes he doesn’t have an answer, and shakes his head brusquely. He takes her phone and scrolls through it, tosses it down on the bed, and finally says, “That was a Wyatt Logan. Friend of yours?”

“For the last time, no. I have no idea what is going on with any of this!” It’s close to midnight, Lucy’s exhausted, and this day has been, to say the least, a bitch. “Do you have anything else to interrogate me about, or can I go to sleep?”

Flynn briefly looks chastened, mulls another response, and jerks his head at the bed; apparently the Emperor has given permission. Lucy marches over, turns the covers back, and crawls beneath them, determined to put up a brave front but feeling shaky and small. Why, why has her mother kept this from her? Was it for her safety? It must have been for her safety. Realized that Benjamin Cahill was up to his eyeballs in whatever bad news Rittenhouse is, and cut Lucy (and later, Amy) off for their own good. It still hurts, but at least that way, Lucy can make sense of it. When she gets back to Palo Alto, hopefully soon, she’ll call her mom and clear the air, see if there’s anything else Carol needs to tell her. Maybe she can even help Flynn with this hell-bent investigation of his. Must know firsthand how sketchy they are. Maybe put him onto a few leads.

That is Lucy’s rational historian brain at work, the part that wants to cycle the kaleidoscope pieces together and see the big picture, the best outcome. And yet, all she can think of is Henry Wallace, all the times she called him Dad, and he never gave her any reason to think that was anything but the truth. How much did he know? All this time raising another man’s daughter – did he ever resent her? Did he truly just love her that much? Lucy wants beyond anything to see him again, to know. And yet obviously, she can’t. Lucy the historian understands all this, but Lucy the daughter is broken-hearted.

She sniffs, once and then again. Can feel a wetness soaking into the pillow under her cheek, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. There can’t be many worse places to have this breakdown. Not yet, not yet. But another tear escapes, and a third.

Lucy thinks she hears an uncomfortable cough, and isn’t sure if she wants Flynn to notice this or not. She’s not really sure that he’d have anything particularly comforting to say, since his whole attitude about this seems to be “I told you so.” Why the hell did he come after her, then? Track her all the way out to the literal Rittenhouse in the middle of nowhere, but still won’t entirely relinquish his belief that she might be in with them somehow? Ugh. What the hell. This man is beyond frustrating.

Despite herself, Lucy slips into an uneasy haze, seeing as Flynn has apparently decided that the best strategy to deal with this is to sit very still and pretend he’s a tree. Yet again, if she was thinking that he might offer any comfort or …comfort, she’s mistaken. It’s really a good thing that she didn’t actually kiss him that first night.

Satisfying as this may be, it’s still hollow, and since Lucy doesn’t have Amy’s lap to put her head in, she could at least do with some brief moment of human connection or support. But if Flynn’s not offering, she’s not asking, and pulls the covers up tighter. If Rittenhouse comes barging in here during the wee hours, it is decidedly not her fault.

When Lucy opens her eyes again, the light is grey, the room is quiet, and the clock on the bedside table reads 6:43am. Flynn has dozed off on the other bed, still dressed, the same way he slept on her shitty couch back in her apartment, and nobody has been murdered, so there’s that. Lucy still feels like she’s been hit with a hammer, and could probably sleep another six hours at least, but she’s not sure if they’re going to have to pick up and bugger off somewhere else. It’s Sunday, maybe that will help with the traffic. It’ll still be at least two hours back to the Bay Area, though. If that’s where they’re going.

Lucy groans, closes her eyes again, and steals another forty-odd minutes of precious slumber, before she’s woken by the sound of Flynn moving around. She lies still and pretends to be sleeping, until he says gruffly, “Lucy, I know you’re awake.”

Ever the charmer, her knight in shining armor. Lucy sits up slowly. She has not had a ton of time to go to the gym recently, and yesterday was the most workout she had in months; she can feel it down to her toes. “Other people say good morning.”

Flynn’s mouth twitches, as if he’s almost about to smile, until he catches himself. “You should probably get up.”

“Oh? And what have you been doing all night?”

“Thinking.” Flynn pulls off his shirt, wads it up, and tosses it on his unmade bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Lucy was about to shoot back some remark about how she can’t see that going well – if he’s going to prod her, she’s going to prod him – but she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of his torso. Broad shoulders, heavily muscled arms, and several rugged scars – whatever the majority of this man’s career has been spent doing, it is not just annoying nearly-completed PhD students in California hotel rooms. There is a small, puckered, pinkish circle that looks like a bullet wound, and a few others that look like knives. She doesn’t know how old Flynn is – maybe mid-to-late thirties, seven or eight years older than her – but he’s clearly lived a hard life. Unwelcomingly, unnecessarily, her fingers flex, and her breath hitches.

Flynn catches her looking, and his tongue flicks out briefly to touch his lips. “Yes?”

“I thought you were taking a shower,” Lucy says, as coolly as she can. “Or are you still afraid that I’ll call Rittenhouse if you turn your back on me?”

Flynn arches an eyebrow at her. This man does have a remarkably expressive face, even if it mostly is employed for various permutations of smug, sass, smirk, and son of a bitch. “What, were you planning to come in? Only room for one in there, I’m afraid.”

With that, he strides to the bathroom and shuts the door, for all the world as if he just virtuously turned her down from making a move on him – which, obviously, did not actually happen. Lucy rocks back and forth on the bed, fighting an urge to scream, then gets up, gets dressed, and wonders if she can go down to the continental breakfast by herself, or Flynn will come tearing in and terrify some yuppies. Which might be amusing, at least momentarily, but will then result in even more headache and hassle to sort out.

It takes a while, but they finally eat (though Flynn, to judge from his dark looks at the buffet tables, doesn’t think much of Holiday Inn Express’s culinary selections), check out, and head back to the car. Lucy is not enthused to see it. “Are we going home yet?”

“No.” Flynn gestures her to get in, but she doesn’t. “I couldn’t keep you safe there.”

“Who said that was your job? Can’t you call someone? Whoever you work for?” Lucy folds her arms. “Get me a protection detail, so I can go back to my life, even if someone has to babysit me? However this is ordinarily handled?”

Flynn looks frustrated that she isn’t just taking his word and following his orders. Finally he says, “It’s… last night. When Logan called. There’s been some kind of complication. He said he was supposed to arrest me, at LAX. I don’t know what’s been decided on, but first they ordered me to drop the investigation and now Rittenhouse is trying to – ”

“What? Your bosses ordered you to drop it, and you didn’t see fit to share that with me?” As if he was going to share anything. “So what, we’ve been off the grid and against orders for at least the last twenty-four hours? It was one thing to be on the run with you when you were working on some official government business, now you’re off that too, and – what? I’m supposed to just trust you and get in the car?”

“Lucy – ” Flynn looks exasperated, as if he has genuinely never considered how insane he and all his plans sound. She’s gone along with it thus far, because she didn’t really have a choice, but before they head any further away from home, off into whatever planet he lives on, she needs solid answers. “Don’t make this difficult, just – ”

“Oh, me? Me? I’m the one who should not make this difficult?” Lucy catches sight of a nice retiree couple eyeing them from the hotel portico, and waves reassuringly. She might try to run for it right now, but all her books and her computer are still in the car, and it does not seem beneath Flynn to hold them for ransom. “Either we go home, or you explain a hell of a lot more about who this Wyatt Logan person was and what he told you.”

“He – ” Flynn rolls his eyes viciously. “It’s not a conversation for right here. Get in, and I promise – I promise – ” he repeats, seeing her look deeply dubious – “we’ll drive around a bit and I’ll tell you. Yes or no?”

Lucy hesitates, then jerks the car door open and gets in with as much icy dignity as she can muster. Muttering, Flynn does the same, pulls out with only a slight grinding of the gears, and keeps to his end of the bargain in puttering around at 30mph on some residential streets. As he does, he provides her a doubtless still-very-abridged version of what he learned. Wyatt Logan is a soldier of some description, though he didn’t specify his exact branch of service. He was sent by person or person(s) unknown to arrest Flynn at LAX, which is where he was supposed to go instead of staying with Lucy. Given that Flynn’s boss told him to go there, either he didn’t know that the rendezvous had been compromised, or he did. In short, someone highly placed in the U.S. government has ordered Flynn taken off the Rittenhouse investigation, and has gone to the lengths of sending a fellow special-ops guy to apprehend him. In short, Flynn can’t trust anyone back at headquarters, or know who they’re reporting to. That’s why he can’t just call in for backup and let someone else take it from here.

Lucy stares at him. If Flynn isn’t lying about this – and lying isn’t really his way, rather brute-force application of the unvarnished truth with all the subtlety of a speeding freight train – then that, obviously, is worrisome. “Why would he call and warn you?”

Flynn shrugs. “Dumb decency. Some people have it. But he wasn’t told either, he smelled a rat, so he did some digging.”

“How did he find out it was you?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t say.” Flynn flashes a grim smile. “Had to play some of it close to the vest, after all. Said that he asked a few people. I assume someone like him, it wasn’t just the local hot dog vendor. So then. Do you see the problem?”

“You’re not willing to just drop me off back home and…” Lucy has no idea what the ordinary protocol would be, it’s a little outside her area of specialty. She doesn’t want to be kidnapped by Rittenhouse again, obviously, but she also doesn’t want to be joyriding around with a possibly-ex-NSA agent who’s managed to push the envelope too far even for them. “They couldn’t have had some good reason for pulling you off the case?”

Flynn looks at her flatly. “You’ve met who I’m after. Do you think so?”

Lucy hesitates. Yes, Rittenhouse was obviously creepy, there was a Waco-compound vibe to the party, and to have all these powerful, accomplished, wealthy people suddenly swanning out of the woodwork and offering her a dream job clearly came with a major catch. But… political parties and lobbying groups and other business conglomerates might be distasteful or even unethical (shock, horror, politics are dirty) but that still doesn’t make them strictly or flagrantly illegal. “I don’t know. I need more evidence.”

“Need more evidence.” Flynn makes a derisive noise in his throat. “That’s a historian’s answer.”

“I am a historian, in case you forgot. And I need to be back to Stanford by Tuesday, I have a class to teach.”

For a moment, Flynn looks as if he can respect this commitment to professional responsibility, even if he has no intention of honoring it, himself. “Why did you want to be a historian?” he asks instead. It doesn’t sound entirely like pleasant small talk. “Though it’s better than dropping out of college to join a band.”

Lucy flushes. That is the first reference he’s made to the fact that he saved her life seven years ago. But as to his question, she isn’t even sure she remembers consciously choosing. Just that it was implicit in her mind ever since she was a little girl, that she was going to study history and follow in her mother’s footsteps. That time with Jake was the only time she came seriously close to deviating from the plan, and Flynn is the reason she returned to it. Well, indirectly, since if he hadn’t come along, she would have been six feet under for a while now. “I just… always knew that was what I was supposed to do,” she says, after a pause. “My mom was… well, she is very… she just wanted what was best for me. She pushed me a lot, and that time when… when you saved me, that was when I’d decided I was going to tell her that I could live my own life, and not just mimic hers. But when I almost died, it… it seemed like a sign. That it had been a mistake. So I continued.”

“Do you even like it?” Flynn asks. Bewilderingly. “Or is it something else she made you do?”

“Of course I like it.” Lucy stares at him. “Really. If I hated it, I wouldn’t have gotten this far, even for my mother.”

She isn’t altogether certain about that. Just because she’s not sure she could live with her mother’s disappointment, her constant remarks about how Lucy isn’t really doing everything she could be. And she – she does want this, she can’t think of anything else she wants to do with her life, and frankly, if you’d be happy doing anything else apart from getting a PhD in history, you should probably do that. But that’s odd to think about, almost unsettling. If Puff the Tragic Wagon hadn’t gone off the road, and she hadn’t almost died, and Flynn hadn’t saved her, would she have gotten to her mother’s house, told her the plan, and followed through on dropping out of Stanford and running off with Jake? Or would she have wilted at the first sight of her mother’s disapproval, called the whole thing off, and continued as normal anyway? Does she actually have it in her to defy Professor Carol Preston, who red-penned her homework assignments from the age of nine? Who used to open up her laptop and go through her college papers and just delete whatever she thought wasn’t strong enough?

Lucy starts to say something else, then stops. “What about your mom?” she says instead, not sure why she’s inviting more intimacy, but determined to learn something about this man, half guardian angel and half obnoxious, dangerous, stubborn liability. “You said she was American, but you were born in Croatia.”

“She was.” Flynn rolls to a precise halt at a stop sign, then continues. “From Texas. She worked at Lockman Industries in the aeronautics and engineering division. She was in Houston during the moon landing, actually. A very talented woman.”

Lucy glances at him. She’s always up for hearing more about talented women. “What was her name?”

“Maria.” Flynn’s mouth shapes around it as if he hasn’t said it in a while. “Maria Thompkins. She died a few years ago.”

It’s plain that he would rather not keep talking about the subject, and they drive for a few minutes, going nowhere in particular. They make a few loops around the Windsor main drag, until Flynn says, “All right, I’ll take you home. But if anything happens on the way, or when we get there, then – ”

He sounds so grumpy and yet so worried that Lucy can’t help but smile. Impulsively, she reaches out to put a hand on his where it grips the gearshift. “I’ll be fine, Garcia.”

He blinks. His fingers tense under hers, for a moment as if they might turn and take hold. She gets the sense that people don’t often call him by his first name; it’s either Flynn or Agent or something else curt and formal. He’s still looking down at her. The air feels thick. She hasn’t quite let go.

“Lucy.” It sounds half as if he was trying to say something else, and half as if it just spilled out, as if he wanted to taste it. It lilts on his tongue, he looks at her from under his eyelids, and – Lucy doesn’t know what might have been about to happen. And for that matter, doesn’t get a chance to find out.

She’s aware of a flash, a glint, from the car that’s just pulled up next to them at the stoplight. Is aware, in a horrible, too-slow way, of Flynn realizing what it is, and slamming her down. In the next, the entire world has exploded in Lucy’s ears.

Flynn spreads his arms, sacrificing the chance to go for his own gun in order to shield her, and she hears him grunt as he straight-up takes two shots. All she can think about is those scars she saw this morning, how there was at least one bullet wound, and –

At that, Lucy moves. Reaches over, half-climbs into the driver’s seat, and hits the accelerator, trying to steer with one hand and thinking madly that she has to get them to a hospital. She can barely spare a moment to look in the rearview mirror and see if they’re being followed; all her attention is for him. “Garcia?” she says frantically. “Garcia!”

He grimaces, pressing a hand to his side. It wells up red. “Shit.”

“Don’t talk. Don’t talk, all right?” Lucy looks madly from side to side. She can see a sign for an urgent care, but she isn’t sure how well-equipped they are to handle a drive-by shooting. There’s probably a proper hospital in Santa Rosa, but how bad are his wounds? She tries to look, then has to swallow hard and turn away; blood has never been her strong suit. And if they go somewhere that needs ID, if that’s the exact thing they don’t want to do –

“Lucy.” He sounds somewhat squashed; even aside from being shot, their impromptu driving arrangement is making it hard for him to breathe. “There’s… a kit. In the back. Pull over somewhere, I’ll – ”

“You think you’ll fish two bullets out of you by yourself?” Lucy snaps. “We are getting someone to take care of you!”

Flynn opens his mouth, grimaces, and stops. The left shoulder of his shirt is wet red. He looks like he might pass out, and Lucy decides to hell with it. The urgent care it is. She veers them into the parking lot, slams on the brakes, and hauls Flynn out with a considerable effort. Once she has gotten him inside to the very alarmed receptionist, Flynn is just in command of himself to grouch, but someone takes hold of him and he vanishes into the back. Lucy drops into a chair, covered in blood and shaking. What the hell. What the hell.

She doesn’t think she’s going back to Stanford today.

[begonethoughtt]

3.

Lunch is an exercise in focus.

It's the first time you've seen Iwaizumi in person since that first night, but you've talked so much in the last few weeks that there's a feeling of familiarity between the two of you from the moment you lock eyes in front of your building.

Unfortunately, that familiarity doesn't yet translate to existing in the same physical space together. When you first approach Iwaizumi where he's leaning against his car, there's one tense moment after you say hello when neither of you is sure if it's okay to touch, and if so, how much. Should you go in for the cheek kiss like you did on that first night? No, that was a completely different environment--under cover of dim club lights with a dance floor a few feet away where personal space didn't matter so much. Not a public sidewalk on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

You put your hand on Iwaizumi's bicep in greeting at the same moment that he moves in for a hug, but stops short when he sees your eyes widen, likely thinking you were uncomfortable and not just steeling yourself for the much-wanted contact. He chuckles and moves to touch your shoulder instead, but in a fleeting moment of bravery, you move in for the hug instead, standing on your toes to get your arms around his neck and pull yourself close. Your nose settles into the dip of his collar, trying not to be obvious about your deep inhale of that patchouli-cedar scent. Your waist is not small by any means, but when he gets his arms around it, you feel absolutely enveloped.

"You look great," he says when you pull apart. You glance down at your soft pink floral sundress, unaware of how Iwaizumi is doing the same.

"Oh, thanks," you say, hands fiddling with the hem of the skirt as you look up at him from under your lashes. "So do you." He's wearing that same jacket he had on at the club, this time layered over a hoodie, and you do your best not to stare at the way the fabric stretches tight across his chest and arms.

Focus.

That's easier said than done, especially once you get into his car. He's a laid-back driver, one arm resting on the window while the other keeps a relaxed hold on the steering wheel. His legs fall open wide on the seat, stretching the denim of his jeans over his thighs, one of them flexing as he moves his foot between the pedals. You talk about the music he's playing in the car, exchanging stories about the concerts you've both been to over the years.

"I haven't been to a show in so long," you confess with a laugh. "I think I'm too anxious now to go anywhere near a pit like I used to."

Iwaizumi looks at you and nods as you talk, paused at a red light. When the light turns green, he shifts his eyes to the road again as he accelerates. "Big stadium shows aren't my scene anymore either," he says. "I know a few smaller, more lowkey venues that I prefer now. I'll have to show you."

You nod, wide-eyed, reaching under your jacket and fiddling with the strap of your dress. "Oh, I'd like that." Iwaizumi grins but keeps his eyes on the road.

"The banh mi at this place is insane," Iwaizumi explains as he leans forward, looking for a parking spot near the restaurant. "And I figure we can get some snacks to take with us to the park."

You agree that that sounds like a good idea as you watch him pull up in front of a spot and signal that he's going to park. Despite knowing how parallel parking works, you're not prepared for Iwaizumi to put one hand on the back of your seat and turn to look behind him as he backs up into the spot. Once again you don't know where to look, eyes darting between the length of his arm, the long line of his throat as he turns his head to look back, the concentrated furrow of his brow, his other hand gripping the steering wheel and carefully turning it as he parks.

He comes here a lot, which becomes clear as he jokes with the staff behind the counter while you grab a table. You can't hear what they're saying, but sometimes Iwaizumi throws his head back a little and laughs at whatever his friend behind the counter says. He glances around the small space until he spots you at a table by the window and has the nerve to wink at you when he catches you staring.

You quickly avert your eyes and take your phone out, sending an SOS to your friends.

I can't do this, you type frantically. I'll be dead by dinnertime. You open up your reaction pictures folder and send them the one of squidward saying, "oh no he's hot!" You're laughing at the replies, which all consist of the same spongebob meme about finishing your dessert, when you're interrupted.

"Incoming," Iwaizumi says, sliding the tray onto the table.

He's right about the banh mi, you realize. You tell him so, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you in agreement but doesn't talk with his mouth full. He hums every time he takes a bite, and several times, his eyes slip shut as he nods as if affirming his food. He doesn't talk much during lunch, but that's okay--it gives you a chance to look, to adjust to sharing the same physical space as Iwaizumi after weeks of phone calls and video chats. You almost forgot that there was more to him than just a head and shoulders, which is a shame, you realize as you glances at his arms, his chest, his legs that are too long to fit under the table and keep bumping into yours as they encroach upon your space.

When you're done eating, you clear the tray and wipe the table with a napkin while Iwaizumi heads back to the counter to buy some snacks for the park. You watch from the door as Iwaizumi daps with his friend behind the counter before making his way back to you, pushing the door open before you get a chance to.

The park isn't far, so you arrive there shortly, Iwaizumi parking again, although this time you're sure he must feel you staring, judging by the smirk curling the corner of his mouth. Before he gets out, he reaches into the backseat and grabs a couple of blankets, tucking them under his arm. You grab the snacks and get out of the car together, following the signs pointing to where the show is going to be.

You get there at just the right time, it seems, able to lay your blanket out on the grass at a spot not too far from the temporary stage, just before the field begins to fill up in earnest. You're already taking in the setup on the stage, imagining the scenes that are going to play out there soon, and taking a picture to post on instagram. Sat up on the blanket next to you, already reaching for the snacks as he leans back on one hand, Iwaizumi laughs.

"Excited?" he asks, and you can't even bring yourself to downplay it as you smile, bouncing a little in place.

"Yeah, Othello is one of my favorites!" you remind him.

He nods. "Remind me what this one is about again?"

"You want me to spoil it?" you ask, frowning and pocketing your phone.

Iwaizumi laughs at that. "It's over four hundred years old. I think we're past the threshold for spoilers."

You shrug. Fair point. "So basically, Othello and Desdemona elope--:

"Who's Desdemona?"

You blink at him, and start from the beginning.

To your surprise, he actually seems to listen to your every word, no matter how much you ramble or go on tangents, and he even asks a question or two. By the time you tell him about Othello's fate, the lawn is filled with people chattering as the crew gets the last few things ready.

"Cool," Iwaizumi says, leaning back on his hands. "Now that I know what happens I can just try to enjoy the show."

Music starts playing from the large speakers by the stage before you can answer him.

The performance is amazing, and there are moments when you get so wrapped up in watching that you almost forget Iwaizumi is there. Occasionally he leans in to ask you a question, and you glance at him briefly to answer him but try to keep one eye on the stage.

The first time it happens, you look over to find that he's a lot closer to you than you expected as he leans in to avoid disturbing anyone else. This close, you can make out the deep brown of his eyes, flecked with olive green, and you trail off mid-sentence.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow and maybe smirks a little. You hope he doesn't notice the way your eyes flick down to his mouth, but you know he probably does.

"What was I saying?" you whisper.

"You were telling me why Iago is trying to help Cassio even though he hates the guy."

You nod, leaning in to whisper closer to Iwaizumi's ear. "He has a whole plan to make Othello doubt Desdemona. If she starts to ask Othello for favors on Cassio's behalf now, Othello is more likely to believe it when Iago tells him later that Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio." Iwaizumi nods and pulls away again, and you focus on the play to stop thinking about how he still smells good, how soft his hair looks.

It's a warm, sunny day, but the sun dips behind the clouds for most of Act III, and the skin on your bare legs prickles with the next cool breeze. You try to tuck your legs under your dress, but it's not exactly long enough and besides, it would be too thin to do much anyway.

Iwaizumi seems to notice this, and he taps your knee, then pats his own lap.

You blink at him. "What?"

"Your legs are cold. You can just put them in my lap if you want, I always run hot anyway."

Your mind wars with itself, part of it listing all the reasons you should, while the other part insists that you really really want to. The latter wins.

You unfurl your legs just as Iwaizumi slips his jacket off, leaving him in his hoodie. You stretch your legs out and drape them over Iwaizumi's lap, and he lays his jacket out over them, his hands remaining under the jacket to stroke warmth back into your calves. It occurs to you that maybe you don't need to be warmed up, if the heat rising in your cheeks is any indicator.

You have a hard time paying attention to the remainder of Act III.

When you glance over during Act IV, Iwaizumi's brow is furrowed as he follows what's going on on stage, frowning as Iago convinces Othello that Desdemona gave her handkerchief to Cassio, his mouth dropping open when Othello vows to kill her.

"She didn't do anything, though," he says, just before Act V begins. You nod.

"She sure didn't."

For the entirety of Act V, Iwaizumi sits cross legged on the blanket, leaning forward and watching Othello's life fall apart. He seems to unconsciously tighten his grip on your legs when Othello smothers Desdemona, and his shoulders slump when she forgives Othello before dying. You find that watching Iwaizumi's reactions is almost more interesting than watching the play itself.

He frowns as the metaphorical curtain closes on Act V. "That's it? Iago just gets to go on with his life while everyone else is dead?"

You shrug. "It's a tragedy for a reason."

You regretfully pull your legs from Iwaizumi's lap to stand and applaud the cast. Iwaizumi stands with you, clapping loudly, the sound standing out even among the crowd of applause. Music plays over the speakers again while everyone gathers their blankets and lawn chairs.

"I was right," he says, dusting off his blanket. You glance over, doing the same with the second blanket.

"About what?"

"It was definitely better seeing it with you."

You pause, the blanket hanging from your hands and swaying in the breeze. "Oh," you say, looking down. "I'm glad."

You walk back to Iwaizumi's car, dropping the blankets and handful of leftover snacks in the backseat before he looks at the time on his phone.

"It's still early, you wanna walk around for a bit?"

You agree and start heading down one of the trails in the park, talking about music again and the play, with you occasionally dropping funny anecdotes from work and Iwaizumi telling you about his attempts at wrangling the national team.

You're talking about the homoerotic undertones between Iago and Othello when Iwaizumi nudges your elbow and points out a breakaway in the trail, leading to a path with low-hanging branches that obscure whatever is behind them.

"What's down there?" you ask.

Iwaizumi shrugs. "Don't know. Let's find out," he says, already making his way down the path.

"Iwa, I've seen enough horror movies to know how this ends. The couples who get too curious about stuff in the woods always get killed off first."

(You won't realize your slip until you're recounting the story to your friends the next day, but if Iwaizumi notices it in the moment, he doesn't mention it.)

Iwaizumi laughs, beckoning you over. "It's a city park, not exactly the deep woods. Besides, I won't let anything happen to you."

You only hesitate for a moment, then make your way over to him. "That's exactly what the guy would say in a horror movie," you mumble as you pass, and he laughs, putting one hand on your back and walking beside you while the other moves branches aside. There's a trellis archway on the other side of the branches, covered in flowering vines. Beyond that, a small clearing paved with gray stones in a circular pattern centering on a small fountain. The area is bordered by trees and a few other trellises covered in flowers and vines, with other plants dotting the garden--hakone grass in a large pot, hydrangeas surrounding the fountain, hellebore bushes encroaching on the edge of the paved area.

"Oh, this is beautiful," you say, quiet enough that you may as well be talking to yourself.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi replies anyway.

You both gravitate to the only bench in the area, wood and wrought iron set in front of a trellis covered with trumpet vines.

"I can't believe I didn't know about this place," you say, taking it in. "I love plants."

"Are you any good at keeping them?" Iwaizumi says, angling toward you in his seat and stretching his arm over the back of the bench behind you.

"I don't know how to answer that," you reply, laughing and reaching out to touch the trumpet vines.

"Would you believe I have a small terrarium that I've managed to not kill for two years?"

"That's so cool! I've never been able to keep succulents...alive…" you trail off as you finally turn to look at Iwaizumi. His face is close again, like it was during the play.

"Hi," you say, quietly, locking eyes with him.

He smiles just a bit. "Hi yourself."

He's looking intently at you, eyes taking in the curl of your hair, your own dark eyes, the lip stain you hope hasn't faded by now. You find yourself thinking this would be the perfect moment to go for it, but you freeze.

"You do it," you whisper, as though he's privy to your thoughts.

You think he must be, because he laughs softly and reaches up with the hand not on the bench to try to tuck one of your curls behind your ear. It immediately springs back into place, unbeholden to anyone's will but it's own. "Do what?" he asks, teasing.

You almost groan under your breath. "C'mon, you know."

Iwaizumi hums. "Yeah, I think I do," he says, cupping your cheek in one hand and closing the distance between you both. His lips are softer than you imagined they'd be, his touch softer. You sigh and turn your head to deepen the kiss, your hands moving up to his shoulders as you pull him closer.

When he pulls away just far enough to get some air but close enough that you feel his breath on your mouth, he hums out a laugh again. "Was that what you had in mind?" he asks, and you nod with a laugh.

"Something like that."

The fountain babbles in the background as he leans in again.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy Review

Year: 1987 Original Platform: Famicom Also available on: Nintendo (NES), GameBoy Advance (Final Fantasy I & II: Dawn of Souls), PlayStation One (Final Fantasy Origins), PSP (Anniversary Edition) Version I played: PSP

Synopsis:

The world is in danger. Four monstrous fiends, each corresponding to an element of nature, have wreaked havoc on the world, causing each of the four elemental orbs (in later remakes, crystals) to turn dark. Four Heroes of Light, each holding their own orb, meet and band together to take on these fiends and restore nature to its proper balance.

Gameplay: The original game introduced the Job System. The six jobs are Warrior, Thief, Monk, Black Mage, White Mage, and Red Mage. Each have their own stats. You are free to name each of your heroes. Later on the game, each job can be upgraded.

We are introduced to a classic setup of turn-based combat. Final Fantasy was notable for being the first video game RPG to show your characters on the right and the enemies on the left; all previous video game RPGs had a first-person view with the enemy directly in front of you.You choose your action between Fight, Magic, Drink, Item or Run. Then the enemy takes their turn.

It’s a simple system that at the time was already well-known. It was really the Job System that intrigued players. Black Mages perform destructive magic, White Mages heal and restore, Warriors are the powerhouses, Monks deal damage without weapons, and Thieves can run from battles successfully (they cannot steal, as later games would introduce that). The game can be quite difficult on the original Famicom and NES. It was made at a time when technology was limited, so developers had to make the game harder so that people spent more time playing it. There’s a gaming term that I’ll be using in many of these Final Fantasy reviews called “grinding”. Grinding is when you end up having to run around and fight monsters for the sake of leveling up your characters. There is a lot of that in this game, as well as the early Final Fantasy games in general. Unlike games today, the direction isn’t fully laid out. You are thrown into the world and wander about from town to town to figure out where to go next. Instead of games like today where other non-playable characters (NPCs for short) tell you what to do in cutscenes and whatever, you actually have to approach the NPCs and find out the information. The overall effect is more open-world. You walk across fields and oceans and deserts. There are caves and other secret places to find more items. From a modern gamer’s perspective, the exploring can be quite bare and – for lack of better word – boring. The remakes, like the PSP version that I played, brightened it up with updated graphics. They also added a couple extra dungeons. I actually spent time in those extra dungeons believing they were part of the story, appalled by how difficult they were, when I later found out they were extras put in for the PSP version. That has happened a lot to me with remakes of old RPGs (Chrono Trigger for the DS, another example). A little more obvious sign would have helped to make me realize that I didn’t need to finish those extra dungeons. The pace is definitely slower than the other Final Fantasy games. Most of your time is spent grinding. Grinding can sometimes be a wary word when talking about video game RPGs. If an RPG is too boring or tedious, grinding is the last thing you want to hear. But even when an RPG is fun, grinding means that you need to spend time battling enemies, and that means hopefully you don’t have a huge backlog of other video games. It's probably why I never got around to finishing the original NES version on an emulator. Once and a while I'd be pumped up about going through with it but then as I played I just. . .got distracted by other video games that I wanted to finish.

You definitely need time and patience. The most aggravating thing about the original version (Famicom/NES) is that if your character is set to attack an enemy but another one of your characters defeats it first, that character attacks nothing but air when it's their turn. It was a very annoying issue that they fixed in all subsequent remakes. When comparing the original to any other version, the original always is the best way to experience the game. It can also be the hardest and most time-consuming. You would need to pay attention to this game entirely and not be distracted by anything else.

The PSP version is watered down. I found it infinitely easier than the NES version. I actually played them side-by-side to figure out at what point the difficulty branched off. Right away when you venture to save Princess Sara, I realized that the PSP version gives more XP per battle than the NES version. Hence, you have to grind more in the original version.

Graphics:

Everybody loves some 8-bits, but let’s be honest here – there’s a whole lot of black empty space going on when you battle.

But hey, that was due to the limitations at the time. Battles may seem more boring to you due to the lack of detail to catch your eye.

The later remakes added a floor or ground where appropriate. The PSP remake did a good job of giving a facelift to the original, as shown below. It has this cute, rounded feel to the characters.

(My favorite battle background was in the final battle.)

The opening FMV sequence is ripped straight from the Playstation One remake. That didn’t age well. It’s awkward as hell. Want to see how awkward it looks? It looks mad awkward. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just look it up. I don’t want to sully this post by posting a screenshot. In my opinion, they should have created a brand new opening FMV sequence for the PSP version.

Story: The first several minutes of the game acts as a prologue. The Four Heroes of Light save a princess - Sara - from the clutches of Garland, and then the King of Coneria allows a bridge to be built for them to enter the world and save it. It’s not until that bridge is built that the game truly starts and the title screen actually displays – much like a late opening title in a movie. In retrospect, saving a princess probably seemed like the most common trope in video games throughout the '80's. Gamers would have been used to it by then. That short prologue acts like a trope-breaker. The average gamer would have probably expected the game to be like Mario or Zelda. Oh yeah, save the princess from some evil fiend, okay, got it. They would have then maybe been perked with interest when they "defeated" Garland so quickly, and then when the King of Coneria lets them pass into the world and the title screen opens up with the theme song, they maybe were like, "Ooooh. NOW it starts." Final Fantasy then plunged them into a wide open world.

The bulk of the story is mostly comprised of self-contained incidents. You run into someone who needs help with a thing so you do that thing and then you’re on your merry way again. You know what would be a great adaptation of this game? A Netflix series. It’s very episodic. First you deal with these pirates led by Bikke, then get a ship to sail across the land and go on a sort of delivery quest for a crown, a crystal eye, an herb, a magic key, until the main story picks up with defeating the Four Fiends and bringing light to the darkened orbs. There's no real huge spoiler other than the time travel paradox at the end, which had me wracking my head a bit. It's quite admirable that a game this early in video game console history produced a higher concept plot involving time travel. Music:

Composer Nobuo Uematsu created a legendary score that immediately became on par with the Mario and Zelda theme songs.  The Prelude/Crystal theme – the harp-like scale that we are all familiar with – was actually composed last. Uematsu had complete the score when Sakaguchi approached him at the last minute realizing they needed music for the game’s introduction. None of them had any idea that the theme would become a staple for Final Fantasy.

Due to the technical limitations at the time, you can imagine that the soundtrack is limited, but even so it was still quite expansive for its time. There are several individual tunes for dungeons, for sailing your ship and for flying your airship. The map theme will have you humming it without realizing it.

Uematsu drew his inspiration from two sources – classic rock and living in Shikoku, an island off Japan. The melodic world map theme in Final Fantasy (and the rest of the series) derives from the picturesque memories he has of the island. The town theme is reminiscent of the sleepy villages – as he was never a city person. Meanwhile, the battle theme has undertones of rock music.

There’s only one battle theme, even when fighting bosses and the final boss, but the amazing thing is that it never gets old.

Final Fantasy games are known for their great battle songs. The opening bassline always gets you in the groove to fight. You’re fighting but want to sing at the same time. Maybe that’s the brilliance of Uematsu; because of the fact that you need to grind many times in these old Final Fantasy games, he created a tune that you wouldn’t get tired of because it’s not so serious or mundane.

Not to crap on other great developers, but other video game RPGs at the time of Final Fantasy didn’t quite have memorable battle music. Just look up the battle theme to the first Dragon Quest game (released before Final Fantasy). You can imagine how that simple tune could get old really quick. I could be pulling this out of my ass, but after Final Fantasy, it seemed that battle music in video game RPGs suddenly got better. If you listen to the Dragon Quest IV battle theme, there is a portion that sounds similar to the battle theme of Final Fantasy.

The PSP version adds more tracks, specifically to the boss battles, and I like how they incorporate the original battle motif thrown into the new battle songs. The original battle theme has a guitar and drums added, which is the style that Final Fantasy battle music was known for by then.

There is one last thing to note about the score that I found very interesting for its day and age. You see, in a movie score, you have themes and motifs, just like a video game score. But in a movie score, other tracks reference those themes and motifs. For example, you have The Raider’s March in the Indiana Jones films; that’s the theme for the character Indiana Jones. Then in the movie, whenever Indy does something badass, you hear his theme blare in that instance. Obviously the entire theme doesn’t play, but it is incorporated in snippets throughout.

Uematsu actually does this with the Town Theme. He incorporates it at the ending music in the epilogue. It took me a while to try to understand why. Then it hit me. The epilogue mentions the heroes becoming legends as people talk about them. Legends are told and spread in towns.

It’s a very small detail. It’s such a small detail that it could be nothing but if it is what I think it is, then it’s cool that he was already in the mindset of passing on themes and motifs throughout the game, treating it like a movie.

Notable Theme:

I already posted the main themes in the introduction, but here’s the original battle theme:

Verdict:

A strong debut to the Final Fantasy series. To a modern gamer though, you may be spoiled by the fast-paced, eye-catching video games of today. When console games first hit the market, developers had to create games that took longer than the average arcade game to finish, or else kids would get bored with their games in minutes and gee, wouldn’t that be a waste since they paid way more than a quarter? Thus, that’s another reason why old games are harder. Given the technical limitations at the time, developers couldn’t expand much on the game, so there’s a lot of leveling up and grinding because what else could you do? You know? Ultimately, playing a video game back then was all about honing your skill with that game.

Ideally, you could play through every Final Fantasy game in order of their release, and that would give you a greater sense of the evolution of the gameplay and the series as a whole. However, most people reading this (and me) are probably more modern gamers – and as such, our perspective is biased on what feels “exciting” and “remarkable”. The first Final Fantasy game could feel boring and tedious to you now, but if you put it in the context of when it was made, this was entertainment for hours on end. This is basically like watching one of those silent adventure films starring Douglas Fairbanks. Yeah, you’ve been spoiled with more amazing stuff like The Matrix and Star Wars, but golly – this stuff blew people’s minds back in the day.

Direct Sequel? No. However, there have been multiple remakes, which I have already listed above.

[spectroamer]

SERVERTALE Chapter 13: A change of plans

As Frisk starts walking, her phone starts buzzing within seconds. ALPHYS updated status. well i know she’s unbeatable, i’ll ask her abt it later ^. ^ ALPHYS updated status. for now i gotta call up the human and guide them =^. ^= Frisk: Did she forget that i can read her posts? Chara: Probably. Frisk walks over a some type of transferring platform. hen she crosses it, she gets another message. ALPHYS updated status. gonna call them in a minute!! =^. ^= Frisk finds a save point and uses it. The wooshing sound of steam and cogs... it fills you with determination 01000110 01101001 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 01100100  The lava below is brightening up the whole area. The temperature is warm, but somehow not too warm.  ALPHYS updated status. I HATE USING THE PHONE I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS Chara: Yup, she has no idea. Frisk reaches the end of the path here there is a cliff and some sort of a steam platform. Chara: What do we do now? Frisk thinks for a second before getting an idea. Frisk: I think i have a plan. Chara: What is it? Frisk points to the vent that’s releasing a lot of steam. Chara: Oh no. no no no no. Don’t you dare jump on that thing. Frisk jumps on the platform anyway, sending her high up in the air. Chara: FRISK! Frisk safely lands on the other side. her hair is a little bit messy from all the wind of the steam rushing through it. Chara: Do you have a death wish or something? Frisk: Oh look who’s talking. Chara: Fair enough. Frisk: Hey Chara. Chara: What. Frisk points to more vents in front, having the biggest grin. Frisk: There are more. Chara: Oh hell no. Frisk gets a running start and launches herself above the gap. When she lands, her phone buzzes again. ALPHYS updated status. omg ive had my claw over the last digit for 5 minutes omg i’m just gonna do it im just gonna call!!!! Chara: I guess that’s gonna take a while. Frisk launches herself over another gap and her phone rings Chara: Or not. Frisk tries to answer, but the caller hung up before she could do it. Chara: Yup, I was right. Frisk walks to the next room. There’s an orange laser blocking the path. Frisk: Where should we go now? Chara: I think that laser is safe to go through. Frisk: Since when are lasers safe? Chara: As much as I remember, orange lasers don’t hurt you while you are moving. Frisk: Than what’s the point of this one. Chara: It is placed here so that monsters don’t stay too long on the pipes, after all, they weren’t built for walking on them. Frisk: Oh, ok. Frisk’s phone starts ringing again, but this time, she succeeds to answer the call. Alphys: Uhh! H-hi, so, the blue lasers... Uhh! I mean, Alphys here! Hi! The blue lasers won’t hurt you if you don’t move! O-orange ones, um... Y-you have to be moving and they... Um, they won’t, um... Move through those ones! ...Uhh, bye! ALPHYS updated status. OMG I DID IT!!! claws haven’t shook like that since undyne called me to ask about the weather... v. v Chara: How is she so fast? Frisk: I have no idea. Frisk runs through the orange lasers and stops after them to observe the movement of the blue laser. Her phone buzzes again. ALPHYS updated status. WAIT THERE’S NO WEATHER DOWN HERE WHY DID SHE CALL ME Frisk snickers. She has memorized the speed of the lasers and gets ready to go through it. Frisk runs half way, before stopping so that the laser can safely go through her, before continuing to run through the orange one. She does the same thing with the rest of the lasers and reaches the end of that part. There is a giant tube construct with a button on it next to her. Frisk: Should I press it? Chara: Wait, just give me a moment. Chara opens the console and scans the switch. She sees the wires leading to all the lasers. Chara: You can press it. Frisk: Ok. Frisk presses the switch and it turns off all the lasers. They enter the next room and her phone buzzes again.  ALPHYS updated status. Oh My God i Forgot to Tell HEr Where To Go Frisk: I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem. Chara: You’re right, considering the fact that there is only one way we can go. ALPHYS posted a picture. CUte PIC OF ME RIGHT NOW ^. ^ It’s a photo of a garbage can with several pink, glittery filters over it. Frisk: Well, at least the trash can does look cute. Frisk jumps over another gap using the steam vent, before Alphys calls her again. Alphys: A-A-A Alphys here! Th... the northern door will stay locked until you... S-solve the puzzles on the right and left! I... I think you sh-should g-g-go to the right first!  Alphys hangs up. Frisk follows the advice and uses the steam vent to jump on the right side. ALPHYS updated status. wonder if it would be unfun if i explained the puzzle... Frisk enters the room. When she takes a look at the puzzle, she realizes what she needs to do. She moves one of the cubes to the side and shoots the other cube and the button with the two bullets she had. Frisk exits the room and goes to the left side. On the left side, she finds a blue laser that isn’t moving. Chara: Great. How are we supposed to get past that? Just in the right time, Frisk’s phone starts ringing. Alphys: Alphys! Here! Th-that blue laser seems totally impassable! B-b-but! As the Royal Scientist, I h-have some tricks up my sleeve! I’ll h-hack into th-the Hotland laser and take it out! Alphys hangs up. Seconds later, the laser shuts down. Frisk enteres the room and solve the puzzle after a few attempts. She comes back out and goes to the big metal door. They slowly open, revealing the next area. There are a lot of small pillars with vents on them. Chara: Be careful. Frisk: Don’t worry, I’ve got the hang of this. Frisk easily jumps from one pillar to another, landing on the next part of the room. The floor is spotty, like a floor of a house would look. The next area is getting darker as she keeps walking. Frisk uses her glow stick to give her more light. She notices that the room looks like a kitchen. Suddenly, she hears Mettaton whispering. MTT: HUMAN. I HAD A PLAN OF CREATING A DEATH TRAP FOR YOU, BUT ALPHYS FAILED TO INFORM ME OF YOUR AGE. IT IS SIMPLY UNACCEPTABLE OF ME TO ATTACK AN INNOCENT YOUNG CHILD, BUT THE SHOW MUST GO ON. I WILL PRETEND TRYING TO KILL YOU AND I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU WOULD PLAY ALONG. IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU SWEETIE? Frisk: I’ll manage. MTT: IN THAT CASE, LET THE SHOW BEGIN!!! Frisk takes a few more steps forward and the room is completely dark now. Alphys calls. Alphys: H-hey, it’s kind of dark in there, isn’t it? Don’t worry! I’ll hack into the light system and brighten it up! The lights turn back on, showing the simple kitchen setup. Alphys realizes that this is one of Mettaton’s rooms Alphys: Oh no. Mettaton gets up from the table he was hiding behind. He is wearing a chef hat. MTT: OHHHH YES!!! WELCOME BEAUTIES, TO THE UNDERGROUND’S PREMIER COOKING SHOW!!!  A projector shows a screen that says “Cooking with a Killer Robot” on the wall. MTT: PRE-HEAT YOUR OVENS, BECAUSE WE’VE GOT A VERY SPECIAL RECIPY FOR YOU TODAY! WE’RE GOING TO BE MAKING... A CAKE! MY LOVELY ASSISTANT HERE WILL GATHER THE INGREDIENTS. EVERYONE GIVE THEM A  BIG HAND! Confetti starts falling around frisk and clapping can be heard from the audience... or the speakers. Frisk isn’t really sure. MTT: WE’LL NEED SUGAR, MILK, AND EGGS. GO FOR IT, SWEETHEART! Frisk takes all of the ingredients and brings them to the table. MTT: PERFECT! GREAT JOB, BEAUTIFUL! WE’VE GOT ALL OF THE INGREDIENTS WE NEED TO BAKE THE CAKE. MILK... SUGAR... EGGS...  ...OH MY! WAIT A MAGNIFICENT MOMENT! HOW COULD I FORGET!!! WE’RE MISSING THE MOST IMPORTANT INGREDIENT! Mettaton’s screen turns completely red as he picks up a chainsaw. Chara: Well he likes being dramatic. MTT: A HUMAN SOUL!!!! Mettaton slowly starts moving towards Frisk, while she acts like she’s scared. When Mettaton gets close to Frisk, Alphys calls Mettaton. MTT: HELLO...? I’M KIND OF IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING HERE.  Alphys; W-wait a second!!! Couldn’t you make a... Couldn’t you use a... Couldn’t you make a substitution in the recipe?  MTT: ...A SUBSTITUTION? YOU MEAN, USE A DIFFERENT, NON-HUMAN INGREDIENT? ...WHY? Alphys: Uhh, what if someone’s... Vegan?  MTT: VEGAN.  Alphys: Well, I mean- Before Alphys gets the chance to finish her sentence, Mettaton already finds the plan as a perfect plot twist an goes with it. MTT: THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA, ALPHYS!! ACTUALLY, I HAPPEN TO HAVE AN OPTION RIGHT HERE!!! MTT-BRAND ALWAYS-CONVENIENT HUMAN-SOUL-FLAVOR-SUBSTITUTE! A CAN OF WHICH... IS JUST OVER ON THAT COUNTER!!!  The camera switches over to the single can at the end of the room. MTT: WELL, DARLING? WHY DON’T YOU GO GET IT? Frisk walks over to the counter. Just as she is about to grab the can, the counter lifts up to the sky (well, the Computerworld’s definition of the sky, to be more accurate).  MTT: BY THE WAY, OUR SHOW RUNS ON A STRICT SCHEDULE.  IF YOU CAN’T GET THE CAN IN THE NEXT ONE MINUTE... WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE ORIGINAL PLAN!!! SO... BETTER START CLIMBING, BEAUTIFUL!!!  Alphys calls Frisk. Alphys: Oh no!!! There’s not enough time to climb up! F-f-fortunately, I might have a plan! Those boots that i gave you, i made a few... features. Frisk hears the metal plates on the bottom of the boots moving. Alphys; They’re poered by magic and you’re determination, so they should be able to keep you going long enough to get to the top and back safely. Chara: Should?! Frisk: Thanks Alphys. Frisk hangs up the phone. Chara: You’re not really going to do that... are you? Frisk: Watch me. Frisk activates the boots and starts flying up. Mettaton is flying as well, his leg and wheel transformed into a rocket. He starts throwing out some eggs from a basket. Frisk takes a few seconds to get used to flying, but she quickly gets the hang of it and succeeds at dodging. Mettaton starts pouring flour down. Frisk gets covered by some of it, but she keeps going. She keeps flying up and dodges the milk Mettaton was pouring down. Mettaton uses everything he has against Frisk, but she skillfully dodges everything and finally reaches the top. MTT: MY MY. IT SEEMS YOU’VE BESTED ME. BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU HAD THE HELP OF THE BRILLIANT DOCTOR ALPHYS! OH, I LOATHE TO THINK OF WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU WITHOUT HER!!! WELL, TOODLES!! All the cameras shut down, completing the show. MTT: GREAT PERFORMANCE SWEETIE. Mettaton gets ready to fly away, but Frisk calls him back Frisk: Wait! What about the cake? MTT: OH YES! ABOUT THE SUBSTITUTION... HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A COOKING SHOW BEFORE? I ALREADY BAKED THE CAKE AHEAD OF TIME!!!!! SO FORGET IT!!! Mettaton flies away and Frisk slowly descends back to ground level. She gets a call from Alphys. Alphys: Wow! We... we did it!! We... we really did it!!! Great job out there, team! W-well, uh, anyway, let’s keep heading forward!!! Frisk moves on to the next area and finds a save point. An ominous structure looms in the distance. You’re filled with determination 01000110 01101001 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01100001 01110110 01100101 01100100 The Core shines, with its pure white metal and blue lights, creating light with the lava bellow. Ne arrives at Kris’ base. The two guards at the entrance walk up to him. “Identify yourself” Ne: Come on guys, doesn’t my look say enough. “For all we know, you could be an intruder in disguise.” Ne: Good point. Ne raises his hand, sending out harmless blue energy, writing a “WE OK NOW?” with it. “Yeah, that works, you can pass” Ne enters the base and asks the first person he finds where is Kris. The guard tells him that he is in his main room on top floor. Ne finds a nearby elevator and uses it to get to the top floor. he reaches the floor and exits the elevator. Finding Kris’ room wasn’t hard, since it is the most secured one, with a steel door that has fingerprint scanners, key card scanners, eye and voice check system and one key hole. Kris probably has the key needed to unlock that. Feeling to lazy to wait for anyone to unlock the door for him, Ne phase shifts through the key hole in the room. When he returns to his normal form, he notices Kris sitting behind a computer, a huge bulletproof glass wall behind him and finally, two guards aiming their guns at him, probably scared from him suddenly showing up. Ne: Heh. Guess I should have knocked first. Kris sighs. Kris: Put your guns down, you can leave us. Kris presses a button on his table that unlocks the door and the guards exit. The door closes behind them. Kris: You do realize that it’s rude that you just went through my last defense system like that. Ne: I like to think of it as a friendly advice on what you should fix. Kris: Whatever. What are you doing here? Ne: I have a favor to ask of you. Kris: Okay. What is it? Ne: With all of the chaos that’s happening around Computerworld, Sentinels are probably gonna try to take over the place. I am fast, but not fast enough to defend Computerworld and the rest of the city and I’m pretty sure that Frisk already went through the first half of the Computerworld. Kris: So you want the place secured? No problem. Ne: Thanks. Really appreciate it. Ne phase shifts back out the same way he entered the room and goes on the roof of the base. Kris turns around to look at the window, already assuming his exit route. Ne jumps from the roof, right in front of Kris’ room. Kris: Called it. Ne lands as softly as possibly, so the guards behind him don’t get as much surprised from his landing. He creates his bike and drives to Amy’s house. While he’s riding the bike, he opens his jacket and takes the reserve stripes he had hidden so that he doesn’t need to go to a locker just so he could cover up the plates and turns off the light on his helmet visor. In nearby alley, he turns the bike back into energy and absorbs it. After checking if he remembered to do everything, Ne walks the rest of the way to Amy’s house. When he reaches the house, he knocks on the door. Amy unlocks and opens the door. She’s wearing a gray T-shirt with text that says “Not lazy, just power saving” and blue sweatpants. Ne loves seeing her smile every time hen they meet outside of “work” Amy: Great timing, I could use your... skill. Ne: Okay? Amy lets him enter the house and closes the door behind him, locking it. Amy: I used all of the serums. Ne: Oh, alright, Where is it? Amy: With the rest of the gear, on the table in the living room. Ne goes to the living room and finds the vials on the table. He checks if all of them are there Ne: All ten of them. Good Amy follows him as he goes into the kitchen and fills every vial up with water, before adding some of his adaptation magic in them and closes them. Ne: Good as new. He hands her the vials and she returns them on the table. They both sit on the couch in the living room. Ne: Wait, when did you run out of them? Amy: I used the last one a few minutes ago. Ne: You had another soul-attack?! Why didn’t you call me? Amy: Well, you said that you would visit me and I still had one more vial. Ne: Yeah, but I still don’t know if they’ll always work. Me using them as your medicine was a lucky accident when that happened. Amy: Well it has been working so far, hasn’t it? Ne: No it hasn’t. They are only stabilizing you, but you aren’t getting healed. Amy: Well, maybe there is no healing it. Ne: There is. I just haven’t found it yet. Amy: It’s not your responsibility to take care of me. Ne: You need these because of me. I’m pretty sure that makes me responsible. Amy keeps quiet, having nothing else to say. Ne: ...I will cure you. Amy leans on his shoulder. Amy: I know. Prologue Chapter 12 Chapter 14

[leegeumhyuks]

Seventeen in Toronto Highlights (Long Post)

this is gonna be such a shit post im basically ranting bc i have a lot of seventeen feels rn (its gonna be long too)

the concert happened like 4 days ago and I’m still not over it

Okay so I live in new Brunswick so it was a 15 hour drive one way. We drove up the day before and drove home the day after.

It was tiring, but so worth it. One of the best experiences of my life(oh btw i went with a friend ^^)

(not relevant to the concert but we went to a cute Korean store called Sarah and Tom which had a MASSIVE collection of kpop albums so I bought Going Seventeen and a BTS album :) )

Alright so the concert was at a place called Massey Hall which is more like a theater than a concert stadium [lowkey looked like a place you would go to see a play or an opera or some shit]

it was a pretty small place so really no matter where you sat, you could see really well so any seat was a good seat

Me and my friend were center-balcony near the back so we had a very clear view of the stage (other than there was some tall dude in front of me so it was a bit difficult at times)

We arrived outside the venue at around 6:20 (concert started at 7) and the line to get in already went around a whole block. People were stopping to ask what was going on and apparently it made the Toronto news??

So we get in at around 6:40 and the venue is already more than half full and theyre just playing music videos and everyone was singing along

And when I say everyone was singing along i mean everyone

Honestly I only remember a few of the songs but I they played BoomBoom, Very Nice, Highlight, Healing, and Check In

I have never been happier in my entire life when every single damn person in the venue did Mingyu’s “WhhoAHHH YeaAAHHH’ part. Super. Fucking. Loud

Alright so let me tell you my dudes, It was the biggest adrenaline rush when all the lights went out and you could see the boys run out on stage in the dimness. My heart felt like it stopped.

The lights turn on and I hear Dokyum say “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Diamond Edge” but honestly I wasnt even paying attention bc I was just so blown away

Literally my very first thought upon seeing them was “They’re not real” bc the very first person I looked at was Jeonghan and I thought he was so damn gorgeous he must be fake

He’s literal ethereal. I could go off about how good looking he is. Honestly the true visual of Svt (i swear hes not my bias)

So the very first stage was Pretty U and honestly I dont remember much bc i was too busy freaking out over the fact that I was actually there and they were actually here. I just remember everyone dancing along to Dokyums “Neoneoneoneo” part and all of us doing the “Yeppeuda” part

(they performed Beautiful right after and i really dont remember much of it other than the dance in the chorus [i have such a shit memory its mainly why im making this post before ill forget it all])

So after that they went straight into Adore U (which is my fav svt song although it probably isnt anymore after habits but ill talk about that in a bit)

Oh man if you thought I went off about Jeonghans visuals let me tell you about this mans vocals. They’re so sweet. Sweeter than honey. Jeonghans part in the chorus is my absolute favorite part of the song and it sounds 10000x better live. He just sings it so flawlessly while doing the dance and overall I was just so impressed??

Jihoon also sounded amazing but like let me just take a minute and say every single member sounded fucking perfect and flawless like if you aren’t stanning Seventeen then what are you doing

And the dances were so on point too. I didn’t notice any slip ups or anybody trippin or nothing. Like you’d think they’d show signs of fatigue or being tired bc they did two shows the few days before but they were all so hyped and gave their all in every stage and they genuinely looked like they were enjoying themselves

Anyways back to Adore U

Everyone in the crowd did the “Akkinda” part and I could see Soonyoung smiling so big bc of that like he was really happy bc of it

After Adore U finished they all lined up to do their intros and introduced themselves as a group and then did their individual intros

Most of them just did a casual “Hi I’m ___” but then you had the extra™️ members

Soonyoung got us all to chant something (im not sure what it was exactly I think it was ‘rock the beat’) and then he did his usual “What time is it??” “10 Hour 10 Minute” which honestly made my life i was hoping for him to do that (i love soonyoung sm honestly most of my favorite moments of the concert were bc of him)

Dokyum also did a thing where he got everyone to scream for him

All of their intros were great but none of them were as memorable as Jihoons for me

I know a lot of people were saying ‘He’s not that small in person’, but to me he was so small and cute and I just wanted to go and hug him bc hes so freaking adorable

So Jihoon’s kinda quiet and shy in general, we know that from variety shows and such but I saw it a lot in the concert. Like when other members were talking he just stood quietly with his hands folded and there was this one part where they all ran towards the edge of the stage and gave hearts and Jihoon like covered his face a bit and looked embarrassed 

So anyways he does like this cute little “Hi guys” and I just fucking melted right there. I made an audible “awwwww” sound that my friend was like ???

I love Jihoon so much and I will forever see him as the cute and adorable little smol (boi got a voice tho holy shit)

So they talked a bit more after that about how they walked around Toronto a bit the day before and how they were impressed with the crowd dancing along to Pretty U and Mingyu taught us a little chant where they would say “Seventeen Carat” and we would go ‘clap clap Ehhhhh’ it was weird but cute

So they went straight into Still Lonely from there and I hate my brain for not remembering most of it bc its one of my favorite songs but I just remember Minghao doing Jun’s part in the last chorus and sounding amazing honestly i want an official 13 member version of that song

So after that was Very Nice which was indeed, very nice. Dancing on point. Dino and Vernons rap were amazing and the whole audience did the “Maja” part

Also dont remember much of that stage but I definitely remember the last part bc thats the part where my son, Chan, is in the front. 10/10

Okay so I have 2 favorite performances of the night. One of which was Swimming Fool. I am such a hoe for Performance unit (considering 2 of my biases are in it) so actually every performance of theirs was my fav but Swimming Fool tho. 

That song is one of my favs and I had never seen the dance before so I was basically dying the whole time. Soonyoung’s little wiggle dance and the jumping up and down dance that Chan did. The whole dance was so cute tbh Ive been re-watching that video every day since. (if youve never seen the dance pls watch this. Not my video tho) 

Alright imma talk about Soonyoung for a minute. This boi. Was so hyper the entire concert. He  was doing his usual yelling during songs and was giggling a whole lot, I noticed. (He also dabbed like 20 times and i was like someone pls stop him)

(There was one part where he went and dabbed right in front of Jihoon and i laughed a little harder than i should have)

And I’m honestly so glad that Soonyoung was feeling great the whole time bc apparently at the Chicago(?) show he wasn’t able to perform bc he was sick so we were extremely blessed that all 13 members were well and healthy to perform for us so like thank u jesus for keeping them all safe

(I was lowkey worried about that a lot before the concert bc of when I heard Hyungwon was missing parts of the tour with MX so I was like “Lord pls let it be all 13″)

anywho so all the members went to change outfits and they played a vcr (dont remember what of tho i have such a shit memory)

So yall they did Mansae next and started out with the class chairs and Dokyum was the teacher at the blackboard it was rlly cute!! ^^ And towards the end they repeated the “MansaeMansae” part and got everyone to do the dance it was such a great time

So while the rest of the group was preparing for the next stage(i presume), Chan and Seungcheol came out, just the two of them, with a gopro and said it was the camera for “Going Seventeen” and were filming the crowd and interacting with us a bit. And then they had a dance battle (Which Dino clearly won Seungcheol didnt stand a chance against Michael Chanson)

So then everybody came out and did BoomBoom which was  incredible (every stage was amazing i feel like i shouldnt have to say it) Most of the crowd even did the shirt thing which was really fun. Chan slayed his rap (i love my son)

So after that there was another vcr and the members changed outfits again

Vocal unit came out and sang We Gonna Make It Shine and boys let me say I have never fell in love with someone vocals so much before in my life. Like I’ve always loved Jihoon’s voice bc it was unique and its got a nasally tone to it and I love it, but hearing it in person made me love it 100x more

And for a while I actually thought Jihoon wasn’t singing?? Bc he just sounded so flawless, like exactly like the recording that I thought ‘maybe hes lip singing bc his throat is bad or something’ and I’m hitting myself now for even thinking that bc really Lee Jihoon is just the most amazing vocalist I’ve ever heard Boo Seungkwan who???

So yeah Vocal unit slayed even though I’ll always like the 2014 version of that song with Soonyoung better

As soon as that song ended they went straight into Don’t Listen and omg let me talk about visuals. The stage had this whole setup with a table with some fancy ass candles on it and there was a throne that Joshua was sitting in and the lighting was really eerie and I really don’t listen to that song much but im gonna listen to it every day from now on bc damn

HipHop unit had their turn next where they did some song which I had never heard of before called “On Haeng Il Chi” and it was dope then went into Check In and once again everyone did Mingyus “ohhhhhHHh yeahH” part (glorious I tell you)

Seungcheol was serving looks the whole time bc he was wearing this black suit set and he just looked so good the whole time. Honestly Seungcheol was such a tease the whole concert and i got a look at his thighs at one point and man he thicc

Vernon was also wearing this nice green shirt and I just really liked it for some reason and I wish I had taken more pictures and videos I hate myself for not doing that

AlrIGHT Performance Unit time!!! So leadin up to the concert I thought they were gonna perform “WHO” bc it was a bonus track and I just thought they would perform it for some reason so when they were all standing there ready for the song to start, the amount of confusion on my face when OMG came on… Wasn’t disappointed tho that performance was awesome

Still would like to see a performance of WHO tho I hope they’ll do that next time

And then they did Highlight and me and my friend even switched seats so I could get a better video of it bc I love that song so much. Also leading up to the concert I knew they were going to do this song but I wasn’t sure if they were going to do 13 member version or not but I’m glad it was just the 4 of them

Oh man okay I’m gonna talk about my bias, Chan, for a second. His stage presence in every song is seriously amazing. A main reason why hes my bias is bc im a huge fan of his dancing and his dance style(and he pretty cute) and seeing him perform live was incredible. it was almost overwhelming bc I couldnt believe someone this talented existed and I was watching them in their element 

Like he put his all into the dance while still executing his raps and vocals perfectly. His voice actually does sound a bit different live, like its a bit higher than I expected but he was so on point the whole night why is he such an underrated member

Okay so the members had another outfit change after this and these outfits were straight up sinful. Not to mention the first song they performed in them was equally as sinful so I’m going to on about this performance bc this was the best performance imo. I will never forget it. It’s ingrained into my brain forever

So Crazy In Love starts. Okay so I don’t listen to this song much as far as just listening to it in my free time, but I’d seen the dance before so as soon as I heard the music, I knew we were royally fucked. I wasn’t expecting this song probably bc i forgot it existed but its my new fav song guys this performance ruined me. 

So the lights come on at the very first part and these mofos are wearing tight black skinny pants (which looked like they were leather but they werent) and red silk sparkly shirts that were tucked in. Every single member looked flawless 

(Also didn’t mention this before but all of their hair was styled so well bless the stylists. I normally prefer a more natural color for hair on idols so I was glad the colorful dye had faded and most of them just went with black or brown)

But lord have mercy when the song started. Okay Chan is my bias but I could not stop staring at Soonyoung almost the entire time - minus for Chan’s “talking about love” part (which I remember doing the dance for and screaming while doing so)

Like you get Swimming Fool Soonyoung whos all cute and playful and going “YEEEE HAWW” during the song and then you get Crazy In Love Soonyoung whos all bedroom eyes and sexy glares and just everything about the way he moves is mesmerizing (i swear. Hes NOT my bias)

So getting through the first chorus is hard enough when BOTH my bias and bias wrecker are up in front doing that provocative shit and I was so conflicted on which one to stare at but I ended up staring at Soonyoung the whole time. 

And then in the second chorus when it’s just Jeonghan doing it and both me and my friend screamed so loud ugh the outfits were so perfect for this dance i wanted to D I E

And then it gets to the Part in the song yknow the “Ooohhhhh” part where they spin around and when it was Soonyoungs part to do that by himself. I don’t even have words for how that made me feel. That image is in my mind forever. You know that meme thats like “you ever wonder whats going on in someones head?” well yeah its that for me

It’s just Soonyung doing that one dance move

okay moving on Ive talked about this enough

My I was right after and I’d never seen the dance to that either and it was really beautiful and cool like idk how to describe it. It was like a very romantic type of dance and Jun and Minghao had such great chemistry on stage together they really blew me away

OKay now imma freak out some more bc Vocal Unit performed Habits. I actually recorded this whole song so I wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening on stage bc they were all just standing there with mic stand anyways. I was enjoying the audio and their lovely vocals. (Again, Jihoon really exceeded my expectations in this song. Like for some members like Dokyum and Seungkwan I know theyre gonna sound great and its not like I didn’t for the rest but I’m just still not over how good EVERYONE sounded)

So I’m enjoying them vocals and the song ends and my friend taps on my arm and points to her face and there are actual tears. This bitch really cried. At the time I was like “during Habits of all songs??” but i was so naive now I understand(I cried 2 days later listening to that song)

Hiphop unit then did If I which I remember 0 of I think I was still too shook from Vocal Unit

I just remember their little hip thrust dance and then immediately after was a ment and Soonyoung was mimicking HH units dance and giggling like an idiot and got the whole crowd to sing and dance to If I

“Ohh Toronto. Dancing good”

Then they were all arguing over which unit’s performance suited Toronto the best but then decided that they all did

And then Soonyoung dabbed

Too many times

Everyone also dabbed with him this group is a M E S S

And then they got Jeonghan to do Aegyo so he spun around and made a heart and said “Toronto I love you!” in the cutest voice possible I swear I’m in love with Jeonghans voice

And then Wonwoo did a cute little dance to which we all chanted ‘Go Wonwoo’ for and then Soonyoung dabbed

again

(It made Jihoon cringe every time)

Then Jeonghan tried to get Seungkwan to sing something and Boo was like ‘moVING ON” but he gave in and sang a bit of Hello by adele which was really nice. Like damn the acoustics in that theater were no joke bc its a theater (i assume) made for plays and stuff and him singing without any track sounded really nice.

And then they asked my boi Chan to dance so he started singing Billie Jean by Michael Jackson and doing the hipthrust dance and Seungkwan ran over like ‘nOO”. But Chan just kept dancing and singing and having a good time and being w i l d  to which Seungcheol cracked up at. He literally fell on the floor laughing

And they kept going on about how this was a totally special stage for Toronto, “only for Toronto”

So then they went on to say they were gonna perform a very “hot” song next and my clueless ass was like ‘Don’t wanna cry?’ but naw it was ROCK which I only recorded part of bc the lighting was bad and my phone sucks

But okay I can just say that Wonwoo’s voice sounds 10x deeper in person. If you thought his rap was really deep in that song, wait until you hear it live. For a long time Wonwoo was my favorite rapper in kpop and I think hes regaining that title he was very good the whole night and I really like his deep voice

and then they did Chuck which was SO AMAZING HOLY CRAP

I love that song sm in the first place but I love it even more now upon seeing and hearing it in person. I recorded a bit of that one too and love it i watch that video like 3 times a day

So then they had another short Ment where they taught us the dance to Chuck and Soonyoung doing the “brrrr” part was so adorable I wanted to die. (I feel like Im talking about Soonyoung a lot but im just so glad he was able to perform in Toronto ilysm)

So then Vernon was like “I actually have some bad new for yall” and all the members were like ‘whaaat??’ and pretending to be shocked

So Vernon goes on: “The next song is actually the last song for the night” and Soonyoung made this fake crying noise and then dabbED LIKE 5 TIMES

That was when he went over to Jihoon and dabbed right in front of him and then was like “Oh my god our last song?”

and then Vernon being the cheeky ass that he is was like “Yeah and I really dont wanna cry about it” and then him and Soonyoung went to the back of the stage to “cry” and all the other members were “crying”

Then Vernon came back and like “I wonder what our next song is tho? Hm????” and im like really bitch

So Soonyoung yelled ‘are you ready’ a few times and then they performed Don’t Wanna Cry which was INCREDIBLE 

They were all in perfect sync like im seriously amazed. These boys probably have to practice day and night to get dances like that. It was amazing

So the boys left the stage for a bit and there was a another vcr which was of all the member explaining what carats were to them and it was really sweet and my friend cried again (she cried like 3 times that night) and I died at Jihoons bc there was this short clip of him and hes just so darn cute

so they came out again and performed Shining Diamond but were wearing casual jeans and half were wearing blue shirts and the other half were wearing pink shirts and Soonyoung looked so good in that outfit bc his shirt was tucked in in the front and his hair was just so great

anyways they all looked like they had fun performing that song and Soonyoung was yelling as usual and there was one part of the dance that was super satisfying bc all the colors of the shirts lined up and it was just really nice to look at. 

And then they performed Healing which we had special banners to hold up during. There was one part I remember bc I couldnt see bc everyone was holding their banners above their heads, but Seungcheol jumped onto Mingyus back and koala hugged him for a good minute and a half and Mingyu kept trying to get him off and Seungcheol just smiled like an idiot and latched on. Eventually he got down and then grabbed his water bottle and dumped half of it onto the people in the front(splash zone)

So once that song ended, Toronto Carats had actually prepared something special for Seventeen. So certain seats had a red board on it that you would hold up after Healing ended but only so many seats had them so it made a message in the crowd and I think it was just 2 hearts and ‘1 7′ and the members looked really surprised like Vernon and Minghao were next to each other and were like :O

Seungcheol and Jeonghan looked really shocked too, overall none of them expected it

So then the goodbye ments came and I was ready to die as soon as they started. They all said the similar kind of thing like “we had a good time we’ll come again soon ect…” 

But Minghao’s was all in english and it was the cutest damn thing i have ever heard in my life. He started out with “Today I am so happy because of our Toronto Carats energy.”

and then says the cutest shit ever: “We are like friends. We look after each other and love each other” He also kept looking over at Vernon to make sure he was saying it right

and then he said something like “we care for each other” and the fkcigingf df went “and everyone, don’t be sick. Always be happy okay?” IN LIKE THE CUTEST WAY POSSIBLE I WANTED TO SCREAM I MEAN I PROBABLY DID BUT STILL

and then I only remember Chan saying something like “We’ll be back soon, and when we are you have to promise that you’ll come to our show” and then Soonyoung and Seungcheol held out their pinkies for us to promise them and I held my pinky bc I damn promise if they come to Toronto again I will be seeing them for sure. Or I’ll try my best anyways

and they all gave us hearts and said they loved us and did a bow and then all had to leave the stage and I almost cried;;

I remember Soonyoung was the last to leave the stage bc he kept waving and saying goodbye

Also I remember a person sticking their hand out one last time and it was kind funny bc I just see this random hand pop out for like a split second. I didn’t know who it was at the time, but I later found out it was Dokyum :3

So yeah, he’s not my bias, but Soonyoung made my night

Anyways. I’m still having post-concert depression. Honestly I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to another seventeen song again without crying. All in all, it was one of the best nights of my life and if it wasn’t for my best friend who bought the tickets and surprised me with them and her mom who drove us up the whole long way. Highlight of my summer. 

[californiadreaminghq]

Oh good, you made it!

Did you guys know Joss was coming? She brought Lowell Crane, The Hurricane! And just on time! Grab a drink, find a spot, and make sure you finish everything on thechecklist. The band is just getting started – you have 24 hours to send in your account! We’re so glad you’re here!

                                       I. OUT OF THE STUDIO

NAME/ALIAS: Joss

AGE: 32

PRONOUNS: She/her

                                                II. ON STAGE

NAME: Lowell Crane

FACE CLAIM: Henry Cavill (first choice), Chris Evans, Dan Stevens

AGE: 35

TITLE: The Hurricane

DREAM: Lowell wants to be a Somebody, but is too afraid to try again

OCCUPATION: Owner of Daredevil’s Bar

                                              III. INTERVIEW

Answer the following questions in your character’s voice:

If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would it be?

“Well, ain’t that a question. Not sure how to answer that. I could say I wanna be a lighthouse keeper, or a park ranger in Antartica. Or an astronaut. But that’s not really an answer, is it? Cuz nothing’s holding me back from, well, maybe the lighthouse keeper, and the rest, never gonna happen, and maybe I wouldn’t really like it anyway. Be a trip though, floating in space. Can’t imagine anything else feels quite the same, except maybe acid. I could say I wanna hit that perfect note, and it rings like a bell inside your chest, and everyone else is hitting it too, and you all just float in that perfect sound as long as you can. But I don’t think that’s really a job description. Or I could just say fuck it, I wanna be a rock star, cuz isn’t that what we all want, at least a little, if we’re still here? Can’t imagine a reason to stick around otherwise.”

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?

“Vietnam. I know, not the ideal vacation spot. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go full Jane Fonda or anything. I went to some protests and sit-ins, but I can’t even claim I was that invested. That’s fucked up, right? If you fight for something, you should at least have conviction. Not like I’m pro-Nixon or anything, but I just … it was what everyone else was doing. And people liked to listen to my songs. What bullshit. I was cribbing off Dylan half the time anyway. We all were, but it doesn’t exactly make you proud, you know? I was running around playing flower child the whole time, and Mick was off getting his ass blown up in Khe Sanh. Or God knows where, everything was redacted, so fuck if I know. You know? Sorry, I can’t answer a question to save my life. Probably why I’m here and not an accountant like Ma always wanted me to be.Vietnam. I wanna go to see where he was, before he got sent home in a pine box. He was just a kid, he was supposed to be the smart one, he was supposed to get out of Texas and come see me and I was supposed to be his impressive older brother. Fuck, I sound like a bad country western song. Ignore me.”

What is one thing that makes you different than anyone else?

I can eat 50 eggs. (Author’s note: this is a reference to Cool Hand Luke, a 1967 film which in many ways encapsulates Lowell’s aesthetic and ethos. He’s also just a huge fan of Paul Newman and if he had any acting talent whatsoever, he’d want to be him.)

                                              IV. BACKSTAGE

Lowell Crane grew up in the unusually average town of Ding Dong, Texas, an hour outside of Austin. He was the first boy, the second child, and grew up singing in choir and learning to play the guitar, though admittedly he was hardly dedicated to the pursuit. It wasn’t until he hit puberty and discovered girls that musical talent became something he valued. Though he was born in Holland, he was often told he had ‘all-American’ looks, and even spoke Dutch, his first language, with a soft southern twang. He didn’t really consider it a career, but liked playing at parties and joined a band with his friends on a whim. They were just good enough to get to tour parts of Texas, and Lowell caught the fame bug. By the time he was in his early 20s, he wanted to take it further. As it so happened, he had a cousin in California who invited him to come out and stay for a while.

The California music scene was a hard hit of culture shock for Lowell, and he bounced around different bands, never quite fitting in, never really making a splash with anyone, but continuing because people said he had talent. He joined a band, The Lonely Boys, who were in need of a guitarist, and they toured for a couple of years before breaking up because nothing was happening, quite discouraged. Lowell took a plane to New York just in time for the Summer of Love, and all of a sudden, he was a flower child. Somehow that alchemical magic happened and he took off. He had a recording contract with a big name, he played at Woodstock, he was going to be another Bob Dylan. Then he got the news his younger brother, Mick, was dead, and simply … dropped out of his own life. He was just another broken person left behind by the hippie movement, and it took him until 1972 to drag himself back to something like normalcy. He ended up in an ashram in Southern California getting clean and seeking enlightenment. He got clean, but as for enlightenment, all he got were the keys to a dive bar in Los Angeles that one of the new converts no longer wanted.

Lowell has spent the last year building up Daredevil’s Bar as a venue for up-and-coming musicians, and it’s now one of those places where you “pay your dues” in the rock scene. People even say some of the big name studios scout there sometimes. Lowell is just the owner and the guy behind the bar who can tune your guitar, help you break down your setup after a show, and who only occasionally has to threaten the crowd with a baseball bat when they get rowdy. He’s still putting the pieces of his life together, and he’s aware on some level that his music career is done, but he can’t quite give it up. He’ll provide backup guitar for any of the bands doing shows at his bar in a pinch, but he doesn’t perform by himself at the bar, though sometimes he will hit up a late open-mic or jam with the few friends he has in town, or the odd person who remembers who he used to be.

                                                  V. ENCORE

Headcanons:

Lowell can play by ear and can play a song if he’s heard it once. He isn’t as good at remembering lyrics and will sometimes make up his own if he can’t remember them.

The last name “Crane” is an anglicized form of Krane or Krahn, which is Dutch. His family fled Holland after the war. Lowell’s parents lost most if not all of the rest of their family during the war. The effect on the Crane children of being the children of survivors has left the family split between those who strive to be as American and unobjectionable as possible, like their parents, or those who reject their parents’ attitudes and seek to be as unusual as possible.

Lowell is the second of five children, with three sisters and one brother, Michael Crane, now deceased. His sisters are Emmeline, Virginia, and Dorothy. Emmeline and Virginia are married and live in Texas, Dorothy currently lives in upstate New York on a commune with her female lover, and is estranged from her family, other than Lowell, who lived with her during his period of “dropping out”.

Lowell’s favourite food is peanut butter, and he eats it straight from the jar, to the consternation of his family and roommates over the years, as he often double dips the spoon to lay claim to a jar.

Childhood music: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DWSV3Tk4GO2fq?si=qDmRsNAZS9-XTnB27Abs0Q

Playlist reference/requests that Lowell will play: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX504r1DvyvxG?si=7xvqYDnBSxmyQ5WxX5He-w

Voice reference: Lowell sounds similar to, and his songs resemble, those of Nick Drake.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “The Heart of the Matter” (Rated PG13)

After graduating high school and marrying the love of his life, Blaine discovers that he needs a heart transplant. But there's a reason he doesn't want his heart removed.

If he doesn't, he will die. But if he does, will that mean losing the man he loves more than life itself? (2965 words)

I had started writing the premise for this a while ago, but stopped when @sunshineoptimismandangels wrote her amazing fic "Soulmate Script", which I think eclipses this one by far. It's much more fleshed out, more adorable than angsty, and who doesn't like adorable Klaine? This is a bit more personal on my end, but I wasn't going to finish it. After reading sunshine's recently for about they 80th time, I was inspired to polish it off for her birthday. So here it is. Let me know what you think. And make sure you read hers because it's amazing <3

Warning for talk of hospitalization and heart surgery. 

Read on AO3.

Beeping monitors.

Cords and IVs.

The sharp smell of alcohol and industrial disinfectant.

The draft from an overhead vent where a steady stream of cold, conditioned air bleeds in nonstop.

Rough sheets beneath his fingertips that he can’t help straightening, can’t stop adjusting.

The urgency hidden beneath the tension-steeped calm, that even as they wait in this one, quiet room, in other areas of the hospital, nurses and doctors are scrambling. Prepping.

Fighting against the clock.

It reminds Kurt too much of the days when he stood by his father’s bedside, waiting for news about his condition.

How bad was his heart attack?

Would the damage be permanent?

Would he ever wake up?

That was a long time ago. Kurt’s father ended up being fine. Better than fine. After his heart attack, he became more health conscious. He ate better (mainly because Kurt harped on him, but as far as Kurt was concerned, it counted), exercised, and saw his doctor regularly. Kurt considered his father (and himself) lucky that they came out of that experience more or less unscathed.

So it seemed like a sick, existential joke on the part of the universe that lightning would strike his way twice.

The memories of that near-tragedy with his father crowd Kurt’s chest, make his heart ache, but his isn’t the heart he’s worried about.

Nor is it his dad’s.

“How do you feel?” Kurt asks, trying to hide the tremble in his voice by forcing a smile onto his face – a smile that, he’s afraid, is fooling no one at this point.

Blaine looks up from his bed, drugged-droopy eyelids struggling to stay open, and shakes his head.

“What?” Kurt asks, frowning at Blaine’s setup – the position of the IVs in his arm, the cuff around his bicep, his nasal cannula. They had rushed to the hospital within a minute of getting the call that a heart had become available. There was a flurry of activity when Blaine walked through the doors – undressing, re-dressing, cleaning, sticking, pricking, and poking – a lot of hurry up, hurry up, hurry up just so that they could sit in here and wait. It made Kurt want to scream. He can’t even imagine how Blaine feels. “Does something hurt? Do you feel uncomfortable? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

Blaine continues to shake his head – a gentle roll left and right on his pillow, very little strength but plenty of conviction. “I can’t, Kurt. I can’t do this.”

Kurt chuckles, too sad and anxious to be humorous. “Well, it’s a little too late to do anything about it now.”

“Kur---rt” – Blaine’s voice, a slush of vowels and consonants mushed together in an attempt to form words, gets caught in the lump of despair building at the base of his throat – “I don’t want to do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it might change everything.”

“Of course, it’s going to change everything.” Kurt keeps his tone light, dismissing this argument that they’ve had over and over, and has gone far beyond ridiculous. “With this new heart, you’ll live longer.”

“B-but … but what will happen to us? What if …?”

“What if nothing, alright!” Kurt snaps unintentionally. Numb from the preliminary round of anesthetics working their way through his body, Blaine barely flinches, but Kurt sees it in the flutter of his eyelids, and sighs. They’ve exhausted this conversation, and Kurt can’t take it anymore. He can’t lose Blaine. No matter what the risk, Blaine has to live. That’s not even a question. “You’re not making sense right now,” he says, putting a hand gently over his husband’s, hovering so as not to dislodge anything important. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But I would rather lose you as a husband than go on the rest of my life without you existing on this planet. And if it comes to that, then I will stalk you till the day you die, Blaine Anderson-Hummel.”

Blaine smiles, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that and keep his eyes open, so his eyelids throw in the towel and drift shut. “Then you’re a better man than I am.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Kurt brushes a tear off his cheekbone, thankful that Blaine can’t see. So much for being strong for his husband.

“Hmm,” Blaine murmurs, finally succumbing to a drug induced sleep. “I guess not.”

***

Waiting to find out if Blaine would be okay, if he would make it through, and what that would mean for them if he did, is harder for Kurt than it was waiting for his father to wake up from a coma. As Kurt retreats to the private CTICU waiting room where he’ll stay until Blaine gets out of surgery, the façade that is his courage dissolves.

As awful as it sounds, Kurt has more to lose if Blaine doesn’t make it than he had if his father didn’t. His father means the world to him, but at the time of his heart attack, he and Kurt had had fifteen years together. Kurt has only known Blaine for half that time, and they only knew for certain that they were soulmates within the last three years.

They’d always had feelings for one another. Since the day they met, they felt it – that spark that everyone talks about. And it was mutual. They knew that somehow, even though neither one of them had their marks yet (they met when they were sixteen – marks don’t materialize on the body till eighteen), they had a closeness. A special connection.

If they weren’t soulmates, what could that connection possibly mean?

When Kurt got his mark first, on his chest above his heart, which very clearly read Blaine Anderson, Kurt knew that it had to be his Blaine. And he was relieved. Fate hadn’t been kind to him for most of his life. He had lost his mother, almost lost his father, had his own life threatened by a school bully. It would be cruel if he lost Blaine. But since Blaine didn’t have a mark (which should have been over his heart, too, since soulmate marks traditionally matched in placement), Blaine wasn’t as certain. There was always the possibility that there was another Blaine Anderson somewhere in the world, and that Kurt was meant for him. Kurt was adamant that that wasn’t the case, but Blaine was stubborn.

But Blaine turned out to be wrong.

And Kurt had underestimated the kindness of fate.

Not long after Kurt and Blaine graduated from high school and moved to New York, Blaine started suffering symptoms of a heart defect he’d inherited from his father – a defect that doctors had assured him his entire young life would more than likely turn out to be just a nuisance, fixable by a minor, relatively low-risk procedure when he got older, if need be. But Blaine’s heart had started to malfunction, two chambers shutting down almost simultaneously, and that’s when they found his soulmate mark – the name Kurt Hummel written directly across the front.

Kurt has loved Blaine forever. Being soulmates, he loved Blaine before they even met. He’d dreamt his entire life of him without ever knowing it, and not just his striking features, which he’d only glimpsed in part - his golden eyes, and his dark, curly hair - but his love of music, his passion, his grace, his elegance, his sincerity.

His drive and ambition.

His beautiful soul, and how much their souls belonged together. Because that’s what soulmates means – finding your other half. That one person on the planet whose existence makes you whole.

Preparing for the possibility of Blaine’s new heart had brought them together over the past few months in a way nothing else in their relationship had before. Exercising together, preparing meals together, going to classes at the hospital together, planning a new future together, took them to a higher level of intimacy and devotion, outlined in their wedding vows that they had chosen to recite traditionally because they applied in the simplest but most poignant terms – for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and health; until death do us part.

Except in their vows, they had said till death do we wait, till we’re reunited.

Kurt doesn’t believe in God. He doesn’t really believe in an afterlife. But he believes in Blaine, and he believes in those vows. He’s held on to them from the day he said them, made them into his own religion.

Their love is his faith.

If Blaine doesn’t make it, or if removing his heart means what Blaine fears it means – that his soulmate mark will go with it, severing the connection between him and Kurt irreparably - then they might as well just remove Kurt’s heart as well.

Because he won’t need it any longer.

***

Kurt doesn’t know how he fell asleep. Aside from the fact that he swore to himself he wouldn’t, he wasn’t even remotely tired after they wheeled Blaine to the OR. But to ensure there was no chance that he would nod off, he found the narrowest, most uncomfortable chair in the private waiting room, right beneath the brightest, most obnoxious white light, and set up camp. He immersed himself in mindless busy work, checking his text messages and his emails, then his Facebook feed, then his Twitter, and finally his Tumblr, keeping close friends and random followers alike updated regularly on Blaine’s progress.

He finished writing responses to the comments he received on his posts - mostly thank yous along with various emojis depending on the commenter. He closed out his apps, rubbed his brow, and shut his eyes for a second to block out the harsh light overhead.

A second later, a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

He jerks up from his hunched over position, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging from his neck like an overripe fruit on a too thin branch, and his phone on the floor, presumably where it landed when it fell from his hands.

“Hmm? Wha---Blaine?” Kurt mutters, assuming it must be Blaine waking him, wrapped up and ready to go home. He was just talking to Blaine five minutes ago. Who else would it be? He kicks his phone as he sits up, waking it from its slumber. The time on the screen reads 7:26.

But it was just past noon a minute ago.

“Mr. Hummel?” a voice says. It’s not Blaine, but it’s familiar.

Kurt blinks at the man standing over him, wearing teal blue operating scrubs and a weary expression.

“Mr. Hummel,” the man continues, even though Kurt has yet to acknowledge him. “We’ve just brought your husband out of surgery. He’s been taken to observation. You’ll be able to see him once he starts coming out of anesthesia.”

Kurt nods, taking the words in even though half his brain seems to believe that they should be heading home. Blaine gets a new heart, and then they go home. It’s as simple as that, right? Because if Kurt has to spend another minute in a hospital worrying about someone he loves, he might go insane.

But if Blaine’s body rejects this heart, there may not be a second time.

“So, he made it through all right?” Kurt needs clarity, wondering why, if everything’s okay, his doctor looks like there’s a problem. Shouldn’t he be smiling, relief pooling in his eyes with a thin stream of tears, like the doctors on Grey’s Anatomy when surgery is a success? Why does Blaine’s doctor seem so … dour?

“Yes, he did. We’re going to keep him under careful observation, but from the outset, things look promising.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Kurt asks, because the unreadable look in the doctor’s eyes makes Kurt think otherwise.

“Mr. Hummel, before I take you to see your husband, I need to have a word with you.”

***

“How do you feel?”

“I feel like an elephant sat on my chest and cracked my ribcage.”

Kurt chuckles. It’s been a day. One whole day of sitting by Blaine’s side and watching him sleep, watching him breathe. A day of holding his hand to make sure that his body is still warm. A day of waiting to hear his voice again, and, when they finally removed his breathing tube, reveling in every harsh, raw attempt at a whisper. A day of not sleeping comfortably so he could make sure Blaine kept breathing while he did. A day of not eating because he didn’t want to leave Blaine’s side. A day of hoping and praying and bartering with the universe. A day of trying to lend Blaine strength because Kurt knew he’d need it to get better.

A day that’s felt like a lifetime.

But Kurt will take it, and every day after. He loves Blaine. He loves Blaine’s sense of humor. He loves his over-the-top displays of affection. He loves his outlandish apologies. He loves his smiles, even the tired, slightly pained one he’s wearing right now.

And he loves that he has a beautiful reminder of Blaine pulsing on the skin of his chest with every beat of Blaine’s brand new heart in the form of his soulmate mark - Blaine Anderson.

“Well, aside from that,” Kurt says. “What I mean is … do you still love me?”

Blaine’s smile goes from pained to flawless in a blink. “Yes,” he says, squeezing Kurt’s hand as best he can. “Yes, I love you.”

“And what do you think that means?” Kurt asks with a knowing smile, as if whatever lesson Blaine is supposed to learn from all of this, Kurt knew all along.

In reality, he only learned recently, but he’s not about to tell his husband that.

“It means that me being desperately and hopelessly in love with you had nothing to do with any silly mark on my heart. Or anywhere else on my body. It has to do with you and me. Who we are together. I loved you long before that mark ever showed up, and nothing is going to change that.”

“Good.” Kurt sniffs to banish the tears threatening his eyes. “It’s nice to see that you’ve finally come to your senses.”

“And it only took about six hours in surgery for me to get there.”

“Better late than never.” Kurt leans over to kiss his husband on the forehead, wishing he could kiss him on the lips instead. But Kurt’s on the verge of tears as it is, and he hasn’t even gotten to the best part of the lesson. “Oh, and here. The doctor gave me this for you to keep.” Kurt turns to his chair and picks up an envelope sitting there, about the size of a small poster, that Blaine had somehow managed to overlook. Though, to be fair, with his gorgeous husband standing by his bedside, there wasn’t anywhere else that he wanted to look than in Kurt’s eyes.

“What is it?” Blaine takes the film Kurt hands him, trying to hold it steady. Kurt keeps hold of the upper edge, lending him a hand. “Ah.” Blaine nods once when he sees the image clearly. He’s seen it so many times, he should have known what it was when he saw the damned envelope. He looks at this x-ray of his heart, like the countless he’d taken before it, with his soulmate mark, his husband’s name, written across it in Kurt’s impeccable handwriting.

“We’ll have to frame it,” Blaine says with a sigh. “This way we can always remember what was, hmm?”

“Well, you’re partially right. We should frame it, right next to this one.” From the envelope, Kurt pulls out a second x-ray of Blaine’s heart. This one bears the mark as well, except the last few letters of Kurt’s name are obscured, the organ in this x-ray darker on one side. Damaged. Blaine compares it with the first, the heart in that one completely healthy, Kurt’s name clear as day. Kurt doesn’t explain it right away. He watches Blaine’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two images, his fuzzy brain struggling to make sense of both x-rays in relation to one another.

“Wait a minute,” he says, his head throbbing behind his eyes as he forces himself to think. “I don’t … I don’t understand.”

“It’s your heart, darling,” Kurt says with a self-satisfied little smile that would come off as superior if it weren’t keeping him from crying. “What is there to understand?”

“But the mark …”

“That’s your soulmate mark,” Kurt points out, starting with the damaged heart first, “on your old heart, and here, on your new heart.”

Blaine shakes his head. He’s trapped in a daze, wondering if he’s actually awake or if he’s still under anesthesia, dreaming that this is real. Because if it is real, it’s the most amazing, fantastical thing he’s ever heard in his life, second to finding out that the donor registry had found him a new heart.

And third to the day Kurt said, “I do.”

“The surgeon told me it appeared after they had the heart implanted,” Kurt explains when the blank look on Blaine’s face becomes blanker. “The second they began to suture and the heart became yours, it appeared.”

“But … how?”

“Because it was never about the heart, Blaine.” Kurt moves the x-rays to the chair and leans in, forehead to forehead, carding careful fingers through his husband’s hair as Blaine’s face begins to crumble, quiet sobs shaking his sore chest. “You said so yourself. You never loved me because my name was written on your heart. Your soulmate mark is a part of you because you love me. It was never going anywhere … and neither was I.”

[deepwithinmybonesfic]

Deep Within My Bones Ch 10- Hospital

AU. Viktor wins another gold at the Olympics, and attends the Paralympics as another duty as the King of Ice Skating. Having lost his inspiration and heart, Viktor did not expect to find love in what he sees as the perfect man. Yuuri, after losing his legs, lost his chance to compete on the same ice as his idol. When the world seems to fall into place, what else can be taken away from them? Ch 1-6 is Setup, start at Ch. 6 for the cute romance-y and drama

“Hospital? Why hospital? You said you felt better…” Viktor couldn’t even muster the energy to whine. He just felt tight. His throat, his chest. It hurt, and he had no idea if it was because of little Yuri, or because of what was happening to his Yuuri.

“What’s going on with your boyfriend.”  Yuri had been quiet until then, and had given them space… but not forgiveness apparently.

“I don’t know. They’re making him go to the hospital.” Viktor didn’t have time to worry about his relationship with his protégé right now… outside of finding a place to put him.

“My dad will drop you off at home before we go to the hospital.” Yuuri left his conversation with his mother, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. “It’s a long drive to Fukuoka.”

“Fukuoka?!” Viktor shrunk back, when he realized he had been surprised and loud enough that everyone turned to look back at him. Even Yuri, who was being shooed into the back row of the van. “Why so far? What about the clinic you brought me to when I got a cold?”

Yuuri stared at his feet.

Somehow, this felt more like than just his nerves.

It was easy to forget that Yuuri was a little different. Why he had been at the special Olympics and not the main events….

“ My doctor is based in Fukuoka. Clinics are general doctors.” He licked his dry lips. “My mom is worried that the cancer I had when I was in the junior league is coming back.”

“Cancer? I thought you were in a car accident or something,” Viktor lost his tact as he felt the pit of his stomach turn icy. Cancer. Cancer? Yuuri had run with him every morning, done every skate Viktor had asked him to try. There was no way Yuuri was sick.

“No.” Yuuri still couldn’t look up at him, his dark hair in his eyes. “I ignored what was going on, thinking it was part of skating. I decided it was better to lose my feet and skate with prosthetics than try and fix my feet.” His shoulders were shaking, and his cheeks were wet.

Viktor pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Yuuri, tucking his head under his chin. “I’m glad you kept skating.”

“There’s nothing else I’m good at, anyway.” Yuuri’s voice wobbled, weak and losing its strength.

“You were good enough to bring me to Japan.” Viktor moved with Yuuri as his mother came to shoo him into the van. Yuuri slouched into him once they were in the van, Yuuko talking with Mama Katsuki just outside the car.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Viktor said, pushing back his long bangs. He paused, pulling back his hand and staring at his own fingers.

They were slick and wet with tears.

“But I want to go to Fukuoka with you.”

---

Viktor didn’t like hospitals in Russia, and he didn’t like Japanese hospitals either. There were no cute mascots or vending machines. The nurses wore uniforms that made them look like they had come out of a cartoon, and they were barely around. Hiroko ended up stepping out a few hours after they arrived, coming back with several bags from the Seven-eleven down the street.

Even though Viktor had been amazed at the freshness and variety from convenience stores, somehow today the katsu curry tasted bland and dry in his mouth. Yuuri had even less of an appetite, only poking at the caramel  custard pudding his mother had gotten for dessert.

It wasn;t that he was nauseous. He had done many sports physicals before, and submitted blood samples to ensure he wasn’t doping. But somehow, watching the four vials of blood being drawn from Yuuri’s arm had shaken him. The way Yuuri hadn’t even blinked when the needle poked him, or when they put a line to draw the blood from. His hand naturally moved to accommodate the oxygen reader, and he didn’t tense when the IV line was put in.

He was quiet.

Mari had facetimed earlier, with Vicchan and Makkachin taking up the screen, but Yuuri was mostly quiet.

Rather than push him, Viktor spent most of his time staring at the chart at the end of the bed and fiddling with his translator app. He had gotten better at isolating the sounds in conversation, and had a ongoing list of words to try out and add to his study list.

Nikiforov-v 18:05  he still isn’t talking

Giacristophe 18:06   you can say something

Nikiforov-v 18:06  then he will just feel bad that he isn’t translating

Giacristophe 18:06    I don’t think he worrys about you right now

Nikiforov-v 18:07   he always does.  That’s why we’re here

Giacristophe 18:07   its  not your fault

Nikiforov-v 18:08   I want to do something

Giacristophe 18:08   you said anemi?

Nikiforov-v 18:08   anemia

Giacristophe 18:08   give  him the blood

Giacristophe 18:42  viktor?

Giacristophe 19:01  don’t go crazy

He looked adorably sleepy when Viktor jumped up and leaned on the end of Yuuri’s hospital bed. “Yuuri! What blood type are you?”

“Wha? Uh, A-type….why?” This had come out of the blue. He knew Viktor wasn’t anywhere near fluent enough to hear what his doctors had said.  There was a shortage on A type donations due to the injuries from a 5.7 earthquake further notice. But with bed rest and  fluids, Yuuri would be fine until the tests came back.

Viktor pumped his fist in the air. “So am I.”

“Oh… that makes sense.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at Viktor.

“What does that mean?” Viktor shrunk back, looking offended, even though he had no idea how.

“Perfectionist.”

“Wouldn’t that be the same for you?” Viktor made a face, secretly glad  that Yuuri was finally talking back.

“I don’t really pay attention to that kind of stuff.” He shrugged, moving the shovel-like mini spoon in his pudding cup. “Why?”

“I can donate to you!”

Yuuri immediately flushed. “No! No, its okay.” Maybe Viktor was more fluent than he gave him credit for.

“No. Please. I want to.”

Yuuri slid down his pile of pillows, refreshingly pink. “Don’t you think… that’s a little… intimate?” he murmured, shrinking under his blanket.

Viktor finally felt like smiling. “I know your blood rushes for me, I should only return the favor!” He chirped with his sweet heart-shaped smile. Yuuri disappeared under the blankets, squawking with embarrassment. Hiroko looked up from her paperback, peering over the edge curiously.

Yuuri immediately sat up, Viktor automatically going up to fix and fluff the pillows behind Yuuri’s back.

“Mama, Viktor wants to donate blood. He’s type A.”

“Oh! Just that?”

Yuuri felt like disappearing under the blankets forever

“Vicchan is so sweet. I’ll tell Yamamoto-sensei when she comes.”

It was more anxiety inducing to be in the hospital without Yuuri than it was sitting uselessly in his room. Even if he was paying attention, he wouldn’t have been able to understand anything the nurses said. They ended up bringing the questionnaire back to Yuuri’s room, and went back to basic English. “Arm” and if he didn’t position it right, they would take it and turn it over.    “Pinch” and he knew to look away until they covered the needle with a piece of fabric tape. When staring at the wall wore out its welcome, he sneaked a peak at the tube coming out of his arm.

He had expected it to be more vibrant, more red, more life-inducing. But it looked more purple than anything, and looking at the tube made his stomach lurch. It was part of his body, and yet it wasn’t.

But it was for Yuuri.

By the time Viktor had realized he wasn’t going anywhere until finishing the juice box with a smiling orange on it, Yuuri had already fallen asleep.

Viktor had offered to use his credit card at the hotel chain next to the hospital, but they had declined. They stopped by 7-11, Yuuri’s father stopping to get a coffee milk, and handing a bottle of Calpis soda and a small brown glass bottle.

“Energy!” He mimed flexing his muscles, before tapping the brown glass bottle. Viktor nodded, grateful for their hospitality and even thinking of him while they left behind their only son in the hospital room. The drink tasted awful, too herbal and grass like, but he downed it all between sips of his favorite yogurt drink. They got back to Yuutopia past midnight, the resort already dark and asleep.  He stopped on his way to his temporary room, the door to Yuuri’s room still open. Makkachin and Vicchan were both on his head, curled around each other in a nest of blankets. As if they knew.

Makkachin lifted her head, staring at him through the twilight.

He joined them for the night.