#now i’m wondering about the budget for the lost gold in general

[idontknowjack]

regional differences have always been my jam but TIL that YDKJ german volume 4 (which was used as the base for volume 6 - the lost gold here in the states) apparently had the whenditha’pn???? and used 5th dementia’s jack attack music?????? this is so neat and now i’m sad that the wenditha’pn didn’t make it into the USA cut

[hrtiu]

Written for a prompt from @flybynite19. It’s not as fluffy as I initially intended, but I hope you like it!

“So she ran out this way?” Riyo asked, pointing down the imposing entrance to the RCMO.

Commander Fox nodded. “Yes, ma’am. She climbed onto that statue, then ran along the top of the monument.”

“The monument?”

Commander Fox pointed to the long slab of bronze-colored stone running the length of the promenade. “The First Battle Memorial, commemorating the soldiers lost during the Battle of Geonosis.”

“Ah,” Riyo said. She vaguely recalled when the monument had been constructed. It had been mostly intended to increase morale among the soldiers, and very few senators had found the time to attend the dedication ceremony. Riyo herself had been busy in a budget meeting that day, if she recalled correctly.

She paced down the long walkway, looking the scene of the crime up and down. She took notes on her datapad, not sure exactly what Chancellor Palpatine was looking for but determined to present a thorough report.

“And security along this walkway, what was it like that night?” Riyo asked.

“There’s a 24-hour watch along the main entrance, but we sent out extra forces as soon as Tano’s escape was discovered,” Fox said.

“I see.”

Riyo continued on down the promenade, her eyes lingering on the blaster marks that marred the brand-new memorial. She reached the pillars that marked the end of the walkway and jotted down a few notes on the large canons flanking the exit. Palpatine wanted to know how their security forces had failed to contain their Jedi prisoner and what measures might be taken to prevent this sort of thing happening again. It was a difficult problem, considering how invincible the Jedi seemed at times. What was the Republic to do if they ever found themselves at odds with their Generals?

She turned back to the Commander. “And these canons, are they-” She cut herself off, seeing that he was all the way back at the monument. He stood, hands behind his back, helmet tilted up at the imposing slab of rock.

Riyo jogged her way back to him. “...Commander?”

Fox started, the first time she’d seen him anything but composed and immovable. “Senator Chuchi, my apologies. How can I help you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Would you mind telling me some more about this memorial?”

“It’s Geonosian stone, installed only a month ago. It gave the convict more cover to make her escape-”

“No, I mean, what does the memorial mean to you?” Riyo asked.

“Oh! Well…” he hesitated, then took a step towards the monument, resting his hand against the smooth stone. “It lists the designations of the fallen.”

“Designations?” Riyo moved a few steps closer to the Commander.

“Yes. My designation is CC-1010. We receive our designations before our names.” His finger glided along one of the names—designations, she mentally corrected—carved into the ruddy stone.

CC-1011, it read.

“Was he a friend of yours?” Riyo asked, her voice going soft.

“He was my twin.”

Riyo allowed herself a small chuckle. “Aren’t you all twins, in a way?”

She couldn’t see his expression behind his helmet, but she imagined a modest smile creeping up his face. “In a way, but 1011 was my tubemate. Like identical twins, we started out as one, then became two.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, though of course she couldn’t. Not really. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“That’s war, ma’am. Better that we be sacrificed than an innocent civilian.”

Riyo resisted the urge to grimace, an acrid taste filling her mouth. “Don’t say that,” she said, though wasn’t that exactly what the Senate believed?

“It’s a soldier’s job to live by the truth, even if it is difficult to accept.”

“Can’t it be our job to change things, if the truth is… isn’t right?”

Fox turned his head to her, his helmet tilted slightly to the side. “That might be a senator’s job, ma’am, but it’s not mine.”

A strained silence filled the space between them, and the weight of her office sat heavy on Riyo’s shoulders. He was right. Not everyone was in a position to change things, but she was. She needed to make the most of that.

Her chin dipped towards her chest, and she twisted with the gold bangle that hung around her wrist. “I swear I will do my best to make things right, Commander.”

“And I will do my best to protect the Republic, ma’am.” He nodded sharply to her and turned from the monument, apparently ready to move on. Riyo’s hand blocked his path, stopping him before he could pass her by.

“Forgive me, Commander, but would you mind telling me more about your twin? CC-1011?” she said. She worried that she was crossing some boundary of politeness, but the columns of nondescript numbers lining the stone monument in front of her begged for recognition, cried out for some kind of illumination.

Fox hesitated a moment, then turned slowly back towards the slab. “Certainly, ma’am.” His helmet tilted down towards his feet, and his hands met behind his back. He often rested with his hands behind his back in a loose parade rest, but Riyo noticed that this time his gloved fingers fidgeted with a nervous energy.

“CC-1011’s name was Fox,” the Commander said at length.

“But… isn’t that your name?” Riyo asked, wondering if there was some quirk of clone culture she was missing.

“It is now, but when I was a cadet I went by Jackal. 

Riyo wrinkled her nose. Jackal sounded like the name of a brash, boundary-pushing firebrand, not someone with the poise and control of Fox.

“I know what you’re thinking, but back then the name fit. Then after Geonosis, I lost him. I took his name, in his honor, and tried to… Tried to be more like him. Tried to get over myself and my di’kut attitude.”

Fox looked back up at the monument, his hands falling to his sides. His helmet tipped far back, revealing a narrow sliver of skin just above the black bodysuit that covered most of his body. Riyo thought about CC-1011, the first Fox, and wondered where his body was now. Probably abandoned somewhere on that wretched planet. And yet here Fox stood, genetically identical and determined to carry on his brother’s legacy. If he took off his helmet, she’d see the departed Fox’s face.

It was a stupid idea, but Riyo had built her career on doing what she felt was right, prudence be damned. She took a step towards him and reached a delicate hand out, her fingers clasping loosely around his gloved hand.

He flinched. “Senator Chuchi-”

“Please allow me this small gesture of comfort, Commander. It is the duty of all sentient life to care for each other in our grief.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looked down at their joined hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

His fingers slowly tightened around hers, and she smiled, squeezing lightly back.

“I never had the pleasure of meeting CC-1011, but from what I know of you, there is no doubt in my mind he would be proud that you carry his name,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, his voice barely loud enough for his helmet to pick up.

They stood there for several minutes, the silence solemn but accompanied by a deep sense of peace. Riyo took the time to read each designation, noting the ones in sequential order and wondering if they’d been friends—wondering if they’d died together. She made sure to repeat each designation in her mind, to send a prayer of gratitude and mourning up to the heavens in their honor.

“Commander?” The faint sound of radio chatter coming from Fox’s helmet interrupted their vigil.

“Fox here,” Fox said, his fingers sliding from Riyo’s as he stepped back from the monument.

Riyo turned towards the end of the promenade, her hand feeling oddly light and bereft. A warm flush rose to her cheeks, though she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if whoever had commed the Commander had even seen them together.

Fox walked back to Riyo. “Apologies, Senator. The Chancellor needs me for a briefing. If you’d like to continue your inspection Commander Stone can relieve-”

“There’s no need,” Riyo said. “I’ve seen quite enough, thank you.”

“Very well. I’ll accompany you back to your transport.”

“Thank you.”

They walked together back to the docking bay where her driver waited for her, and Riyo felt strangely awkward walking alongside the Commander, unsure of what to say.

“I’m grateful for your help today, Commander Fox,” she settled on eventually, though the words felt thick and strange on her tongue.

“I’m not sure I did much to assist, but you’re welcome, ma’am.”

“No it was… illuminating.”

He nodded in response.

Riyo twisted the bangle around her wrist again. She opened her mouth, then shut it, then gave the bangle another good rotation. “I should have come here earlier.”

“I made the earliest time available to you, senator, but if there’s anything else I could have done-”

“No, I mean, I should have gone to the monument’s dedication. I should have seen this earlier.”

“Oh.” Fox said, silent for a long moment as they walked. “Well, you’re here now, ma’am. That means a lot.”

They arrived at the docking bay, and Riyo’s driver hopped out of the speeder to open the door for her. Fox held a hand out to her to help her into her seat, the gesture unnecessary but appreciated. She sat down in the speeder and looked up at him, imagining for a moment that she could see his piercing eyes through the opaque black of his visor. “I won’t make that mistake again, Commander. I promise.”

He nodded to her, and she knew his eyes were locked on hers. “I know, ma’am.”

[buriedlove]

wondering, what would the characters usually wear in real life?

Hi Anon! Thank you for this ask and I’m so sorry it’s taken ages for me to reply! I love this question so much I’m going to turn this into a series of moodboards to provide a better look into their wardrobes, but for now here’s a little insight into each of them…

Lily - Lily has a perfectly put together style. It’s a little bit preppy, and a lot designer. You’ll struggle to find anything in her wardrobe that isn’t black, although she has a few deep red pieces. She is a demon, after all. In general, skirts, chunky boots and oversized jumpers. She feels no heat because nowhere is as hot as home, and so she’ll wear what she wants when she wants, not because the season dictates it.

Rota - Oh Rota. Our poor Valkyrie who is definitely not reflecting her usual style in the dome after the producers convinced her that armour wasn’t going to be appropriate. The producers did the viewers a disservice tbh because there is no chance that she wouldn’t look stunning in her full armour. Outside of the dome Rota has one outfit only - brown leather bodice and trousers, metal chest plate (with some shoulder plates to die for) and a long red cape. I haven’t been able to find a picture of what’s in my head so I’d love to commission a design one day. 

Eli - Our Elf boy’s style is as eclectic as him. In general he’s happy in loose cotton clothing. It’s what he grew up wearing and it feels comfort for him. But he’s not afraid to mix it up and has some truly gorgeous clothes for when he’s living life outside of the forest, much to his mother’s disapproval. He has a love for colourful prints themed around nature - so floral jackets, shirts with butterflies, shorts with a fruit print are all part of his style. Oh - and jewellery- the boy loves jewellery.

Catarina - Cat has curves and is proud of them. The model in the pic above isn’t really representative of Cat…but the dress is 100% her. Her wardrobe contains long flowing skirts and dresses, chunky boots, off the shoulder jumpers, celestial prints. Cat wears a lot of black, but isn’t afraid of colour. Red and purple are two of her favourites. Although long and flowing might be her day to day style, Cat isn’t afraid to wear tighter fitting clothes and has a couple of little black dresses that have been known to be more powerful than a love spell…

Abe - Our dark academia boy who has no concept what dark academia is. His wardrobe is pretty much shades of brown. Tweed jackets, some corduroy, plain and checked shirts…always finished with some smart shoes that look like they are 1940s replicas. Abe’s style isn’t something he’s given any thought to, it just happened naturally for him. He dresses in neutral colours in order to fade into the background, completely oblivious to the fact that his style, coupled with his looks, means that he has an entire fan club back in Berlin, and there’s a reason why his reading club back home is so well attended.

Alex - Alex doesn’t give fashion much thought. He’s a classic denim boy. Jeans and a t-shirt or jumper, and he’s comfortable. He isn’t one for designer fashion. He’s lost too many items of clothing after changing into a wolf, and so dressing on a budget is a priority. He does have a vintage 1980’s denim jacket which he loves, and a David Bowie t-shirt which he treasures. So far his love of the 80s hasn’t stretched to growing a mullet, but there’s always time for that! 

Zein - Zein’s style is quite minimalistic. They actively fight against the stereotype of genie’s wearing lots of gold and sheer fabrics, although they are usually found wearing a pair of harem pants (they’re comfy, ok?), and a vest top/ t-shirt.  Zein wears a lot of grey and black, but also loves jewel tones so will often mix in some purple and blue. Shoes? Nah...you’ll normally find Zein bare footed, but they’ll wear some sandals if they really have to. 

Cerri - Cerri doesn’t have much time for fashion - it isn’t something respected by the pack, and so it isn’t something on her priority list. That doesn’t stop her looking amazing in everything she wears. She has a brown leather jacket she wears at every opportunity, and it’s normally paired with a white top, blue or black jeans and some Dr Martens. Simple, classic, effortless. 

Aayush - In or out of the bubble, Aayush is all about the suit. He’s been around for long enough to see fashions come and go, and he doesn’t buy into trends any more. He has a large collection of perfectly tailored suits and in his day to day life they’re what he wears for work and pleasure. However...he’s finding life in the dome and wandering around in shorts all day a little bit freeing, so who knows...Buried Love could be changing him, in more ways than one. 

Fleur - Fleur describes her style is ‘cottagecore, but add some spice’. She loves pastel colours, and her wardrobe is a thing of beauty. True to her name, she loves a floral print, and don’t even get her started with how much she needed ‘that’ strawberry dress. But Fleur likes to mix her looks up. Huge chunky sneakers with floaty floral dresses is her signature look. She also has a sunglasses addiction...80 pairs and counting, and loves the edge they can give an outfit.

[remys-lucky-franc]

Remy x MC (Queen of Thieves) - Kissing Prompt #14

This is the final ‘kiss prompt’ that I have on my request list. I’m sad 😔

I’ve really enjoyed working on these - this wee challenge got me back into the habit of writing regularly which is so nice as I’d been doing ‘sit and stare at a blank page’ thing for months, thank you for inviting me to join in folks.

Prompt #14 - a kiss so desperate that that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished - requested by lovely @mcira for lovely Remy

It’s a sort of a ‘good heist goes bad’ alt-version of the ‘first ever kiss on film’ heist from Remy’s S1. Also, I relocated it to Barcelona because Paris is too inland 😂

Written from MC POV.

Word count ~6100 (marked #long fic if anyone wants to filter it away - adding ‘read more’ isn’t reliable - don’t want to clog anyone’s dash x)

TW: drowning / broken bones

—-

[MORE]

[[MORE]]

—-

I curse, scrambling to keep my balance as the yacht lists suddenly to the right; my arms flailing, thrown backwards trying to grip at the doorway to stay upright. I collide with it and stretch my hands out to save myself as I hit the ground awkwardly: the crack from my arm makes me feel sick to my stomach. Furniture shifts. Decor clatters to the floor. Lights overhead flicker violently. What the hell was that noise? Something has gone very, very wrong.

—-24 hours earlier —-

Remy and I have spent well over a month on this con now, establishing and ingratiating ourselves with the obnoxious specimen that is Parker Vos. Ugh, even his name makes my skin crawl. Tonight we’ve met up for some drinks: Parker’s idea. Remy’s positioned himself between Parker and I at the bar of the plush cocktail lounge and I watch on as Parker charges his glass again, loudly laughing, clapping his hand on Remy’s shoulder. Remy clinks glasses with him, smile jovial, eyes full of myrth; swallowing down the liquor to perfectly conceal the bile I know is steadily rising within his throat. If there is anyone who dislikes Parker Vos more than I do, it’s Remy Chevalier.

Watching Remy work a con has been quite an experience. He knows instinctively what people want to see and hear - oftentimes even before they know themselves. He reads their body language with practiced ease and plays his part to meet The Gilded Poppy’s ends: a master of assuaging insecurities or fuelling egos. And I have never known an ego like Parker’s. He’s spent half of the evening acting like Remy’s his long-lost best friend, and the other half undressing me - his buddy’s ‘wife’ - with cold, soulless eyes.

Parker’s on his feet, moving to refill my champagne flute but I move my hand to cover the top, opening my mouth in a half-protest.

He grins at me as I giggle, “I shouldn’t - I’ve had too much already-”

Tutting and moving my hand away from the opening of glass, he pours another generous serving of fizz. I make a big deal out of rolling my eyes at him and exclaiming that’s he’s ‘such a bad influence’. Inside I’m far from smiling - I hate guys who behave like this.

Parker doesn’t seem to want to let go of my hand, his fingertips trace my palm casually, an amused, self-satisfied grin spread over his face. I feel colour rising rapidly from my chest to the tips of my ears and Parker raises an eyebrow at me - clearly delighted that he’s gotten me flustered - but it’s not his touch or his gaze that’s set me alight. It’s the way that Remy’s eyes burn into me from the next seat, flecks of gold and green glitter like fire and the mask he wears is one that I can’t quite decipher, the only clue to his true feelings being the exaggerated bob of his throat as he continues to pretends he’s oblivious to the game Parker’s playing. I simper as I extract my hand from Parker’s to toast our glasses. I know Remy and I aren’t really married, but Parker doesn’t: this guy really has zero shame.

Remy’s seamlessly switched to wearing a playful smirk as he reaches across me, clinking all three of our glasses together, “Ma cherie, the bubbles are going to her head, Parker - look how flushed she is!”

His free hand reaches up affectionately cupping my cheek and I feel myself sink longingly into his gentle touch, his daring wink makes my heart stutter as Parker drones on, boasting about only ordering the very finest champagne for his friends.

A short time later, Remy excuses himself and he hasn’t even reached the bathroom before Parker has slid across to occupy his stool, angling himself into me just a little closer than could be considered appropriate. He’s such a snake, it takes all my energy to fix a sweet, naïve smile on my face when his hand comes to rest on my arm; the way his touch makes me feel compared to Remy’s is so stark in its contrast. He’s watching my face intently as he smirks at me - always bragging about his wealth and possessions, always looking for any sign that he’s impressing me.

He’s acting shocked that this is is the first time I’ve been to this particular bar, given that it’s one of Barcelona’s hot-spots, wondering out loud why my husband never brought me here before now. I sip daintily at my glass as I tell him this sort of place is generally outside of our budget, that it would only ever be somewhere that we’d come for a special occasion. As Parker nods, sacharrine-sweet condescension guising as sympathy, I think about how Remy was absolutely right when he told me he reckoned Parker gets a real kick out of feeling like the Alpha Male in any room and I lean into it. He’s back onto his favourite brand of champagne again - asking me if I ever tried it before tonight. I have, but I play along, feeding the narrative, telling him exactly what he wants to hear: Remy would be proud of me.

I shake my head wistfully, “It’s really delicious, it’s such a lovely treat to have something so decadent. I can understand it being your favourite, Parker - you have really good taste.”

He sighs, looking almost troubled, “You know it makes me sad that a girl like you can’t have everything her heart desires. I’ve got cases galore of the stuff on my yacht. I have it brought in directly from the vineyard just outside Epernay.” He pauses, quirking his head at me, “Say, have you ever been on a yacht?”

I think about what Remy’s always tells me about the best and most convincing cons: they stick as closely to the truth as possible. I feel a genuine smile blossom as I tell Parker about the little sailboat my grandfather had and how I loved spending time on it with him when I was a little girl. I can hear the warmth in my own voice and I know my eyes are sparkling as I think about those happy memories, but rather than ask me anything about my grandfather or my childhood, Parker patronises me and uses it as another opportunity to play ‘The Big I Am’. He chuckles as he tells me that wasn’t a real boat, then reels off what sounds like the manufacturer’s sales pitch for his top-of-the-range, fully customised yacht. Heaven knows, I really want to punch this guy but I nod, maintaining my rapt expression - all wide-eyed and utterly impressed. As he drones on, my brain wanders thinking how the same conversation would have gone sitting here with Remy instead.

Parker’s incessant boasting continues as he drawls about how much he would love to take me out on his yacht, “I think a girl like you would appreciate a boat like mine you know, and you’d look so good on it.”

Such. A. Creep.

I shoot him a rueful smile before biting my lip and looking down at the my hands. My fake wedding ring sparkles up at me under the low lights of the bar. I can feel Parker’s beady eyes on me watching my every move like I’m his prey. I fidget with the golden band and I know I’m working this con just right when he pushes my hair back from my face and tips my chin upward to look at him. A grin slithers across his face - poison hidden just behind the facade.

“Why don’t you come on the yacht with me this weekend, baby? You can have as much of this champagne as you like - I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated.”

I don’t have to fake being a little taken aback: I know it’s been our objective to get on that yacht, and I knew we were reeling him in, but the blatancy of his invite still knocks me off guard!

I glance towards the bathrooms and see that Remy’s making his way back across the bar. I use the shock of the invitation to my advantage, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth as I tell Parker, “Remy’s coming back.” I look up at him through my lashes and breathe, “Parker, I- I don’t know? It sounds amazing, but honestly, I’m not sure I should.”

Parker searches my dark eyes, voice smug, so confident that his charms have me falling for him; that he’s so irresistible I’d be ready to betray my husband with him, “I think you do know. You just don’t want to hurt Remy, because you’re a sweet girl. But I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll send you the directions to where she’s docked - and I’ll be there waiting. If you come...”, his thumb brushes across my lips and I draw in a sharp breath while my stomach lurches. His voice lowers as he stares at my mouth, “I’ll show you, I can give you everything you ever wanted and more besides.” Then he’s gone, quickly slithering back to his own bar stool, duplicitously clasping and shaking Remy’s hand as he returns, as though he didn’t just proposition his wife.

—-

Remy fumed about the audacity of Parker Vos the whole way back to the penthouse last night. And I thought he disliked the guy before... I’d hate to see how Remy would react if someone hit on his real wife because he is the most convincingly jealous fake-husband I’ve ever seen. And his attitude towards our mark got even worse when Parker text me with the coordinates for Port Vell Marina.

When we got back we debriefed Nikolai on all of the night’s events and came to the conclusion that me going to the yacht alone was not an option. I argued that I was more than capable of handling him but Remy was adamant that Parker was an entitled creep and it was too dangerous. Nikolai agreed with Remy, and when I huffed that he would trust Vivienne to fly solo, I have never seen him look more annoyed. He barked at me that he it was his decision, his responsibility and he refused to put any member of his team into that position alone, especially where there was no option for back up if things started to take a wrong turn. As much as I hated to back down, I knew from his tone that he was being completely honest and I should apologise and accept his decision. We spent the rest of the evening coming up with our next move - for Remy and I to arrive at Parker’s yacht together.

—-

We arrive at the beautiful Marina at Port Vell the following afternoon and I don’t have to feign how impressed I am. It is absolutely stunning - the sun dapples the turquoise blue waters while every gleaming yacht is sleeker and grander than the last.

Remy’s holds my hand firmly as we head towards Berth 26 where Parker’s imposing yacht is docked. Our play this afternoon is that I was heading out to meet Parker when Remy asked where I was going and I couldn’t think of any reason for him not to come along that didn’t seem strange or suspicious.

We reach the yacht and I see Parker. The irritate look on his face is replaced in an instant as he wraps us both in a friendly hug, before ushering us onboard. As he takes my hand to help me up the steps, he shoots me a look as though to enquire ‘why the hell aren’t we alone?’ and I drop my head like I’ve never been more deeply disappointed by anything in my life.

Remy has Parker chatting about the spec of the boat and I fear that he may never shut up about it. We spend at least fifteen minutes in the cockpit as Parker regales us with tales about how he got rid of his last captain, how he prefers to sail the yacht himself: bravado, bravado, bla bla bla. My cheeks hurt from the fake grin I have plastered across my face but I really lose the will to live as he places a captain’s hat on my head, cracking a joke to Remy about female drivers and saying that if I felt brave enough, he might even let me steer later. As we walk I ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ where appropriate, observing the ostentatious gold fixings and over-the-top ornate features and I conclude that no amount of money can buy you class.

When we eventually reach the sun deck, Remy raises an eyebrow at me, “Oh. Ma cherie, I think we may be intruding. Parker, were you expecting other company?”

I cringe as my eyes land on the biggest bunch of roses I’ve ever seen, sat next to a bottle of the same champagne we were drinking in the bar last night. I know Parker is a truly awful person, but I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. His cheeks colour lightly, clearly having forgotten that he paid someone to set this up for him and his mouth works hard at opening and closing for a few painful seconds before his brain catches up, “Oh! Those? A ‘friend’ of mine was supposed to join me a bit before you both arrived. Then I thought we could have some drinks together, all four of us.”

Remy nods, his expression neutral, but eyes sharp, “I see. And they’re running late?”

Parker shrugs, eyes flicking to look at me as he lies, “She cancelled at the last minute. Something else came up.”

Remy wraps his arm around me making a show of planting a soft kiss on my cheek, his sympathetic words juxtaposed to the smirk apparent in his tone, “How awful, cherie! Good old Parker’s been left in the lurch. And after going to all that trouble too!”

I grimace, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Parker.”

Parker clears his throat, snatching up the champagne bottle, “Yeah. I’ll grab us some glasses.”

As he heads inside, I dig Remy in the ribs with my elbow and hiss, “What the hell was that?!”

Remy grins, his face full of mischief, “It’s obvious that I suspect there’s ‘something going on’ here”, he gestures between me and the roses, “and if he knows I’m willing to fight for you mon couer, it makes you all the more attractive to him...”

Knowing he’s right, but hating it, I pull a face.

He winks at me, “Plus, your Remy wants to have a little fun making him squirm.”

—-

We set sail a little after two-thirty, and as the afternoon progresses, it’s not just Parker who Remy is making squirm. Aside from a variety of vaguely passive aggressive jokes about being stood up and dating disasters - at one point even suggesting that I set Parker up with one of my friends, Remy is possibly the most tactile he’s ever been with me during this con: his hand is either holding mine, on my knee, or touching my face at every given opportunity. And his strategy is working because every single time Remy’s hands are on me, Parker’s eyes follow.

I know it’s all for Parker’s benefit but I just can’t help the way my heart races when Remy touches me. I have to keep telling myself it’s just for the con - all a part of his strategy. I repeat it over and over like a mantra: ‘It’s just for the con. It’s not real. It’s just for the con.’ But it feels so good. So real. And I want him so badly my chest aches.

Part of my role on today’s outing is scouting out the location of the reel of film we’re trying to steal. We’ve long suspected that it’s somewhere on the boat. So while the men continue to drink and chatter, I excuse myself and head to the restroom, getting myself deliberately lost in the labyrinth below deck. I’m fascinated by the amount of cool and interesting stuff that Parker owns despite being an uncultured jerk. I wonder if he has any genuine interest in any of it at all, or if it’s entirely for bragging rights and to impress other people. The further I wander unrestricted, the more I marvel and get to wondering just how rich Parker actually is? It’s so unfair - he deserves pretty much nothing that’s aboard this floating treasure trove... Then I see it - a can of film inside a glass case! Surely that’s got to be it? I quickly check the case, it’s pretty secure and looks like it’s inbuilt to the wall cabinet?! That means... This must be it - the first kiss ever recorded... I beam from ear to ear as I think about how excited Remy is going to be when I tell him!!

Unbeknown to me, upstairs whilst Remy and Parker stand at the railing staring out into the glittering dark blue of the Med, Remy decides to lean a little further into his role of suspicious and jealous spouse. Remy subtly turns the conversation from small talk to a grilling before Parker even realises that he’s walking into a trap, “It’s a shame your friend couldn’t make it, Parker. It would have been lovely to meet the woman who’s caught your eye... You were hoping that the four of us could have drinks together, right?”

Parker nods, sipping at his glass.

“But you didn’t know I was coming?”

Parker laughs, deflecting, “Uh, yeah! I got that wrong, I thought you were otherwise engaged. I’m so glad you could make it, buddy! It’s always great to see you!”

Remy cocks his head to the side, face still open and neutral, like he’s trying to understand, ”Sure, I’m glad I could join. But I’m confused? You were planning on the four of us drinking that champagne, oui?”

Parker clears his throat, suddenly realising that Remy might actually not be as much of a mug as he’s taken him for.

Remy continues, face visibly hardening as he speaks, “From where I’m sitting, there’s no mystery lady, and no Remy? And - well - that just leaves you and my wife sailing around the Mediterranean with a bottle of champagne and a big bunch of roses, Parker.”

Parker waves his hands in the air defensively, “Wow, Remy!! Slow down - I don’t know where you think you’re going with this, but you’ve got it all wrong! You’re putting two and two together and getting five, my friend!”

Remy huffs a bitter laugh, his voice now dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, five? So, I have it all wrong that my wife was halfway out the door to come here, to be with you, alone? Seems convenient that your lady-friend mysteriously couldn’t make it at the last minute? The one I’ve never heard you mention before? Please, explain it to me, Parker. Because it looks to me like you’ve got designs on my wife.”

Parker stutters to find an answer for a second before the yacht jolts violent throwing both men to the ground.

—-

I cradle my arm to my chest and grit my teeth as I clamber back onto my feet, nausea washing over me as I try my best not to move it again. Safe to say I don’t need a medical degree to tell me I’ve broken something.

After that god-awful metallic grinding, groaning noise everything has gone quiet. Eerily quiet. The normal lighting has gone, but the emergency lighting has kicked in casting a sickly green hue all around. I need to get back up to deck, to see what the hell just happened, to make sure Remy is ok!

I move towards the stairwell door and as I wrench it towards me, I’m met with a rush of cold water that makes me gasp. Oh this is bad. This is really, really bad. I stare at the fast-moving seawater spilling in, swirling around my feet: I’m rooted to the spot as panic rises rapidly in my chest. I’m not sure how many seconds have ticked by when I hear the roar of my name. Remy. I can’t see him, but I scramble towards the sound of his voice and call out to him, “I’m down here! Remy! I’m here!”

Water is rapidly filling the space below deck as Remy throws open the door of the opposite stairwell. I lurch towards him, sloshing through it, my limbs twice as heavy and struggling to stay upright against the slippery surface.

Remy wades through the corridor to reach me, calling to me, “I’m coming, cherie, it’ll be ok!” As we meet somewhere near the middle his hands grasp my shoulders as he gives me a quick once over, brows knit together when he sees how I’m holding my quick-swelling arm, “Merde! Is that broken?!”

I wince, nodding. The pain radiates from my wrist making my fingers tingle and my head buzz. Remy’s got one arm around me and he’s gripping at the walls with his free hand, moving us steadily toward the stairwell he came down: the water’s around my waist now. He keeps repeating, ‘it’s ok, it’s going to be ok’, but his usually calm voice jitters and I’m not sure if he’s saying it for my benefit or if he’s trying to make himself believe it. We reach the stairwell and Remy ushers me through the door. The tilt of the yacht makes it hard to climb the steps, but we fight to ascend. Up. Up. Up. We’re around half-way when the yacht jolts unexpectedly again; Remy grabs for the wet handrail. Every muscle in his body strains to keep us in place, to somehow stop us from careering back down the staircase. I feel lightheaded from the way my damaged arm jerks as he catches us, but it’s better than the alternative of plunging back down into the murky water. We resume our climb and make it up the final steps together. Only at the top do I truly appreciate the incongruous angle the yacht lists to, and start to properly grasp just how deadly this situation could be. The sounds of straining metal and hissing water fill the space around us and I’m scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.


We scramble our way out across the badly-angled yacht, clinging to the side rails for purchase as we move: we need to get off this boat. It can’t end like this. In the time I’ve been below deck, dark clouds have rolled in and the rain pelts down on us. As we reach the side of the yacht, and I suck in a deep lungful of air trying to black out the pain radiating up and down my arm. Trying to steady my nerves, I tell myself, ‘We just need to get on the lifeboat, getting upstairs was the hardest part. Come on, you can do this - you can do this! We’re almost there, it’s going to be-’ But my silent pep talk is cut short and a sense of dread floods through me as I watch Remy surge around and around, a hand raking through his soaking hair as he yells,

“He’s gone! That bastard! He’s left us!”

Remy’s hanging over the side, trying to locate Parker, frantically yelling his name out into the dank, misty distance. But it’s useless - he’s long gone. Fresh panic rises as what that means sinks in: that snake abandoned us and the sinking ship. And he’s taken the only life vessel with him. A storm’s rolling in and visibility is poor. We’re miles from the coast without another boat in sight. The water this far out isn’t frigid but it’s still cool enough to catch hypothermia without the right clothing if you’re in it for a couple of hours - but we’re likely to end up in there because this yacht is going down. I’m not sure how long I could tread water for with a broken arm? I choke back my horror as I realise - I don’t think we can’t make it back. He’s left us out here to die.

Tears silently streak my face, mingling with saltwater and rain as I turn to Remy. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, but he’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him, his hands shake and he curses as he pulls useless items out of one of the inbuilt storage benches, tossing them onto the wet deck behind him. I tug at his sleeve and rasp, “There’s no way off, is there?”

He refuses to meet my gaze, yanking his arm away from me, rummaging deeper, muttering in frustration. But I refuse to be brushed off, not now. I pull on his sleeve again, “Remy! Just, stop.”

He whirls on me, his usually smiling eyes are wild as they meet mine. And before I know what’s happening, right there on the deck of the part-submerged yacht, Remy pulls my face to his, mouth crashing desperately into mine. I gasp at the sensation of him. Rough. Passion-filled. Real. His lips spill every frenzied confession I ever wanted to hear and I’m losing myself in him; rapt in every disclosure. The surge of emotion between us swells my pounding heart and fills my soul, a choir with one refrain: he loves me, he loves me, he loves me. My body breaks into song - lyrical, a groan against Remy’s supple lips: rejoicing, dancing, dopamine-high. A million melodies, harmonies, symphonies rush through us as we cling to each other against the stormy saltwater spray. His touch is electric, flesh warm against my skin, deft fingers knotted in my hair drawing me close. Closer. So close I feel two heartbeats pulse through me like an orchestra nearing crescendo. I’m soaked, hurt and terrified, but somehow I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, exalted in his arms. My hand grazes over the stubble of his jaw, the high arc of his cheekbone: my fingertips trace every beautiful feature, mapping every crease, every dimple. If this is our coda, if this is how it all comes to an end, I want to succumb remembering every delicious second of this kiss - every sensation, every caress, every breath, every poetic unspoken word. I want my finale to be us.

Our kiss ends breathlessly, foreheads touching: both unwilling to part. Remy’s lips hover over mine like we’re magnetised. Green eyes search my own as I gaze upon the face I love through dark lashes, trembling. I cover his heart with my palm - I never want to let him go. Seconds tick past that feel like minutes until he finally breaks away and I gulp for air. Bereft, my body aches for him.

Remy’s rifling through the storage benches again, items shoved from side to side, thrown and discarded until he shouts triumphantly, flare gun in hand! Slick hands fumble to load the cartridge, then he steps away from me, pointing the gun above his head, firing high. We watch as a plume of intense fire illuminates the sky above us, a beautiful SOS, hanging in the air before slowing making its descent to the sea.

The stricken vessel below us strains and groans as Remy grips my hand in his, “We aren’t going out like this, cherie.” He says it with such conviction and determination that my heart stutters. My eyes widen as he brandishes a life buoy at me. “There’s only one.”

Why am I not even surprised that a jerk like Parker went for 24-Carat light fittings but scrimped on the most basic of safety features and maintenance? I shake my head at Remy, fear threatens to take over, “We’re not jumping?!”

Remy exclaims, “We have to! We can’t stay on ‘til it sinks, it’s too dangerous! We need to get as far away as we can. We jump together and I promise you - I won’t let go of your hand. Ever.”

A cacophony of glass cracks and metal tears. Engineering crumbles against a backdrop of smoky neon as we huddle together at the edge of semi-capsized yacht. The rain continues to drive against us, and I understand why we have to jump, but I hate that it’s the only option. My hand fits inside Remy’s and he squeezes it tightly, my pulse racing as we count down together from three, two, one...

As we hit the cool water I cry out, pain seers through my busted arm and makes the world seem dull and frayed around the edges. Everything under water is eerily dark and silence rings in my ears as I plunge beneath the surface. In those seconds it feels strangely peaceful. Serene. My mind, so busy moments before, is a blank. An instant sedation - each nerve numb: novocaine static. It’s not until I feel Remy jerk at my hand, still firmly clasped in his, that my brain reconnects. I kick my feet and follow Remy upwards, breaking the waves, choking and gasping for air.

Remy manoeuvres the life buoy between us, urging me to take hold, his hand cupping my cheek, pushing back my sodden hair, eyes raking over me, “Are you ok??”

I cough and splutter as I nod my head at him: I’m fine. Remy doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue with me either. He takes charge of getting us away from the yacht and I follow him blindly, feeling dazed, clinging to the buoy. Minutes later, the yacht goes under and the rapid movement of air and water sends pieces of debris swirling perilously to the surface. A watery scrapyard bobs around us.

I feel sick and dizzy and I’m so cold that my teeth chatter. Did anyone see the flare? Is help coming?

Remy repositions himself and wraps both arms around me as we float aimlessly together. I don’t know how long passes, but every so often he says my name and jolts me to keep me awake, and honestly, I’m trying, but it’s so hard to keep my eyes open. I tell him I’m trying, but I feel so weak. Remy says I’m in shock and I mumble, “That kiss was the best shock I ever had.”

I feel the rumble of his laugh roll through me, and then his lips meet mine again. Soft this time. Slow. Tender. His affection washing over me. I feebly smile and sigh into his kiss, his comforting warmth surrounds me. His touch is like a beacon in the bleak dark water, keeping me focussed, keeping me hanging on. The situation is desperate, but at least I’m with Remy.

As time swirls past us, I drift in and out of consciousness, pulled back a final time by Remy shaking me, “Listen!! Do you hear it??”

I startle and try my best to concentrate... Then I hear it, a horn blasting. Someone’s coming! They must have seen our distress signal. Remy’s swimming as fast as he can for both of us, moving our heavy, tired bodies in the direction of the sound until we finally see it. Remy yells until he’s hoarse, waving, whistling - anything to attract their attention. As the vessel approaches, I hear rough, deep voices yelling in Spanish but my head’s too fuzzy and it’s fast for me to understand. Remy is shouting back at them to take me on board first, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being lifted - strong hands grip under my arms as I cry out for Remy. They pay me no heed: saviours in oilskins wrap me in a foil blanket, checking me over, patting my cheek and trying to get me to focus. I struggle to evade them, “Where is Remy?? You have to help him!!”

They won’t let me stand up, won’t let me move! Agitated tears blur my vision - they need to get Remy out of the water. And then I hear his voice and relief consumes me. The fishermen part to let him reach me, he’s dripping all over their deck and he looks so pale, but he’s here and we’re together. He throws his arms around me, clutching me close, face buried in my neck. We cling together, exchanging sweet words, counting our blessings and relishing the feeling of each other. A tall, thin, official-looking man wraps a second blanket around Remy’s shoulders, talking into his ear. Remy nods to him and then suddenly we’re moving below deck, to somewhere warm and dry. My good arm is around Remy’s neck, the other gentleman walks slowly by my other side, hand hovering to support me as my legs wobble. They give me a towel for my hair and large hooded sweatshirt to change into - Remy helps me and the feeling of the clean, dry fabric against my skin makes me want to weep. I sit on a makeshift bed, exhausted and sore, my head buzzing. Remy hasn’t changed into the fresh clothes they’ve left for him yet, he shivers but refuses to let go of my hand - as though he believes I might evaporate if he does.

The sailors tell us the coastguard is on their way and it won’t be long til we’re back on dry land. I can’t wait for my feet to be firmly on the ground. Remy asks the sailors for something to drink, but they refuse telling us not until we’ve seen a doctor. But Remy insists and eventually they relent, giving us both a large brandy. I swallow it down, grimacing at the taste and the burning sensation in my throat. I lie on my side, cheek pressed against a soft cushion, still shivering. I cradle my swollen arm to my chest, rising and falling as I struggle to come to terms with everything that’s happened today. Remy’s finally in dry clothes, and has crawled into the space by my side on the bunk. It’s going to take a while to process all of this, but it feels so nice to lie here with Remy gazing into my eyes, bodies close, to see him smile at me. I feel drained, but calmer now I’m near to him. I reach out and trace his features, just as I did when we kissed on the yacht a short time before; his stubbled jaw, the curve of his cheek, the little dimple that appears when he grins at me. He catches my fingers in his, and presses gentle kisses to my knuckles, to my palm, his other hand smoothing out my damp hair, “I promised you I wouldn’t let you go. We’re safe now. Your Remy’s here, it’ll all be fine mon coeur. ”

—- 24 hours later —-

Leon pats my knee affectionately as I slide into the passenger seat, “Ready to go home?”

I nod and thank him, as Remy reaches over the headrest, squeezing Leon’s shoulder, “Merci, Leon. Thanks for coming back to drive us.”

Leon meets Remy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, brows tight, looking perplexed, “It’s no problem. I still can’t believe Parker just... Left.”

Remy shrugs, “I can. Proves he was exactly the type of person we steal from.”

I sigh and scrub my hand across my face, “Except we didn’t steal anything from him, Remy. Everything’s gone. The film, lots of really amazing sculptures and artwork - all at the bottom of the sea...”

Remy shrugs, “But you and I aren’t at the bottom of the sea, and that’s what’s really important mon couer.”

And I know he’s right, but it just seems like such a terrible waste, that’s all. I suppose it might be better that no one has all of those treasures, than Parker hoarding them all and appreciating none of them. It was all just ‘stuff’ to him, for bragging rights, nothing more. Someone so shallow didn’t deserve any of-

Leon makes me jump, chuckling while reaching across me to clip my seatbelt in, exclaiming, “What’s this?!”

I glance down and see black Sharpie ink on my plaster cast. I lift my reset arm, and tilt my head to see it properly, there are two doodled little stick-people, one with my initials, one with ‘RC’, surrounded by sweet little hearts and the words ‘je t’aime, toujours ’ scrolled below. I feel my heart leap as I take it in. My cheeks start to colour as I stammer, “I don’t know- I- When-?”

Leon’s sporting a knowing smirk at Remy’s reflection, “To commemorate your fake marriage? Because there’s no need for you two to pretend anymore, right?”

I twist round in my seat to look at Remy who simply leans forward and cups my face in his palms. His eyes gaze into mine, face open and honest - no mask in sight. He meets my lips with a warm kiss as he confirms, “I’m done with pretending.”

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficmas Day #5 “Gift of the Hargreeves”

[Diego Hargreeves x Reader]

Word Count: 1.9k

“Hold on, I have to move a little so I can get it in.” “How far down do you need to be?  I’m ready for it already.” “Don’t go too fast!  If you kill me with that thing, ain’t for sure gonna be no damn Christmas!” “Ok!  Geez, don’t get mad.  I’m afraid you’ll break it while you’re holding it and mad.” As you guide the plug in the shadows into the socket, the multicolored lights wake from their storage slumber for another year of holiday cheer. You crawl out from behind the tree, wiping off your knees as Diego takes your hand to help you up.  As he holds you from behind, you hold hands watching the tree in its glory. “We did that, huh?”  you ask. Diego nods.  “Who knew what an hour’s worth of labor can produce.  You did great, baby.  All that’s missing is presents under the tree!” “Uh!  Remember, we’re not gifting big this year.  $50 max for presents.”  You turn your head back to him to share a couple sweet pecks as his hair starts to fall in the way of your lips. “Pfft!  Diego, I really can’t get used to your hair like that.”  You wipe your lips of the phantom sensation of hair before pulling some lip gloss from your pants pocket to refresh your lips. Diego whips his locs back with the grace of a cover model.  “What’s wrong with it?  I thought you like guys with the man buns and flowing hair and shit?” Adjusting your glasses, you reach for his hair, feeling the texture and moving it around back and forth.  “Sure I like that, but...baby it’s just stiff and dry looking.  I appreciate you trying something different if that makes you happy but whew, we need to come up with a routine.” He swipes your hand away gently, looking offended.  “This is my natural beauty you’re dissing, you know that?” You nod.  “Yes, true.  But even naturals have to get their product usage down for HEALTHY natural hair.  I’m sorry you feel oppressed at the moment.” Diego rolls his eyes sarcastically.  “I feel so seen.  But you can help me with that right?  What products work for me?” You shrug, walking past him to get to a box of white and red garland untangled.  “I may be able to help, but I don’t know anything about your type of hair.  Isn’t some $1 shampoo and conditioner from the grocery store all you need?” Diego takes one garland from you.  “You know I’m already using that stuff, and clearly it isn’t working for either of us.” You sigh looking at him again, feeling somewhat bad for him.  “It’s not like I don’t find you handsome as you are.  You still have that pretty sad boy face that I adore…” “Sad boy?”  he asks as you hold his face playfully in your hands. “Yesh!  My wittle sad puppy wooking for wove!  And honey, that chest, them arms, that stomach…”  you give each part mention a squeeze with a lift of his shirt for a peek of his abs.  Diego pulls his shirt down turning away from you.  “Please, control yourself...but keep going if this is turning into something...” You shrug, balling up the garland and walking up to a step ladder to start lining the decoration.  “I’m just saying, don’t think I have lost any interest.  And if all else fails, what’s a paper bag for?  How does this look over here?  Is it high enough?” As you hold a foot of garland along the wall, studying the placement you hear a tiny whistle followed by an impact.  You almost stumble backward wondering what it was until you look up and find a small shiny tack in the garland, securing it firmly in place. “Whoa!  Fuck, D!  I told you not to do that shit by me!”  you yell, jumping down the ladder, leaving the flaccid hanging garland, pushing Diego as he smiles with a handful of tacks. “I won’t get you!  It’s my thing, remember!  My accuracy is never off!” “And I will accurately beat your ass if you throw tacks or whatever metal bullshit you wanna toss around here.  Now let me place the garland with tape first!  Then you can take those spots after I am safely away.” Later that night, Diego stares at the ceiling watching the credits roll from the Christmas movie you watched together.  You come out of the bathroom feeling disappointed to have missed it. “Damn!  Did they find the daughter in that landfill ever?”  you sit on the end of the bed, reaching for the remote to rewind to the part you missed. Diego crawls out from under his blankets, coming up behind you to lightly bite and kiss your shoulder. You shudder under his touch.  “Please, D!  I wanna see this!” He groans, reaching on either side of your face for your glasses to slide them off.  “Now you can’t…” You snort as he takes the remote out of your hands, tossing it aside.  “I’m not blind now, you know that?” He reaches around your waist to pull you backward, turning you on your back as he looks down at you, looking your body over like he’s famished. “And baby I have never been blind to what you do to me.”  He gobbles up your neck, letting his hands caress parts of you that make you giggle and gasp concurrently. “Wait, wait, I wanna...oh nevermind,”  you say into his mouth as he takes your words and thoughts away in his kiss, running your fingers through his hair and giving it a rough tug.  Diego sits up, smacking your hip to flip you on your stomach when all of a sudden you hear a crunch. “What was that?”   you say, accidentally knocking your back against Diego before he was ready to move that knocks some wind out of him.  As you survey the bed you find your glasses with one arm of it sitting wayward beside the other two-thirds of the frames. “Nooo, seriously?”  you sadly utter as you pick up your broken frames. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”  Diego says pitifully, looking at the frames in your hand.   “I had these forever!  They were my favorite too,”  you sit back on the bed groaning in despair. “I can fix them I think.”  Diego takes them for a minute looking them over.  “....or buy you some new ones.  Better ones, since it’s Christmas time.” You shake your head.  “No...at least not yet.  That would be way past the budget we set this year for presents anyway.  I don’t even wanna think about a new pair.  It’s so hard for me to get a good prescription, I swear they switch some shit with my lenses every time.  What I see during the test and whatI get are always different.  These were perfect!” Diego sighs, rubbing your back.  “I f-f-feel bad.  I wasn’t th-thinking.” You look over at him with sympathy, giving his leg a squeeze.  “Don’t get upset, it’s fine.  I can still see and shit just gotta find my older frames now and oh I may have a free repair with my doctor on them.  I’ll call tomorrow.  It’s fine Diego, really.” -- When Christmas morning came, you bundled the blanket under your chin tighter for warmth as the cold winter sun peeked through the window.   “Merry Christmas, love,”  Diego hoarsely whispers in your ear as he caresses his hand up and down your hip, kissing your cheek.   Your mood is lifted with his affection.  “Mm, same to you,” you groggily reach for his head, crawling your nails over the side of his head feeling something is different.  When you look back at him, you see Diego with his short cut again. Your eyes buck as your mouth flies open with surprise.  He smiles as you notice the change. “See?  Just did it myself this morning before you woke up.”  He runs his hand over his head proudly before nuzzling into your neck like an excited pup. You try to track your thoughts.   “Wow!  I just...Wow!  It’s so different, I almost forgot how you look without your hair.”  You hold his face above yours, feeling the freshly cut hair under your palms. Diego gives you one more kiss.  “Merry Christmas!  But this isn’t your gift though, so don’t worry!  Get up so we can start gifting!” You slide out of bed and head to the bathroom to freshen up.  Having brushed your teeth, you reach for the cabinet to pull out a container of contacts, cleaning them in solution before opening your eye to place one. “Hey, did you want some pancakes or...what are you doing?”  Diego asks just as you place a contact in one eye, blinking a couple times before looking at him through the mirror.   “Yeah, I have been testing out these new contacts.  My doctor kind of convinced me to give them a shot, and so far it’s not the worst thing.” “Wh-what about your glasses?” You brush him off.  “I still have them, just not fixed.  Apparently I need a stronger prescription anyway and those were kind of out of style.  And now I have contacts, so... You ok?” Diego stares at you in the mirror a little long with an expression you don’t understand. “Oh, and pancakes are fine, by the way,”  you say as you prepare your other eye. “Ok.”  Diego heads for the kitchen, stopping at the tree to retrieve the little box with your gift, setting it on the kitchen table before getting the ingredients for breakfast together.  Not too long after he has started you come to the kitchen with your present hidden behind you. “Diego, before I give you your gift, I was planning this gift before this morning...obviously.”  You hold out the gold wrapped box to him, which he takes with a gentle smile.   “I’ll take anything you give me, baby.  I know I’ll love it.”  He kisses you quickly before pointing to the small red bowed gift on the table.  “It can’t be worse than mine.  I am willing to bet.” You pick up the box, lifting it’s lid to reveal another box monogrammed with love, your name.  You lift it out to reveal a glasses case with an exact replica of your broken frames inside. Your heart drops instantly.  “Ohh baby!!” Diego shrugs with his hands in his sweats pockets as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him generously. “But now you’re a contacts girl, so…” You shake your head, looking at him as you squeeze his face.  “Don’t!  This is amazing, you’re amazing!  And you should really open your gift now.” Diego sighs.  “Ok.  Look I’m glad you love yours but you don’t have to try to make me feel better.” You scoff.  “I promise, this will make you feel better if nothing else.” When he opens the box, he takes a beat to stare at the contents.  As he lifts a shampoo bottle out, followed by a conditioner, then a comb and brush set and gel, he looks at you with the biggest grin. “Baby…”  he says, dripping with enthusiasm. “I was -- I was gonna help to style it and-and make your hair better and healthy, then you go and CUT IT!” He puts down the bottles, running up to snatch you up in a bear hug. “I love you so much.  We are so perfect together,”  Diego says, giving you a deep kiss that would put you both on the naughty list next year.

[naralanis]

hey nara! first off, I absolutely adore your blog and your writing, Perhaps is on my comfort fics list that I pull out whenever I’m having a bad time. I also happen to be a fan of your pen instagram and I was wondering if you had any suggestions on some fountain pens for beginners? I recently bought a “Pilot MR Retro Pop” that I really enjoy but I think I’m ready to branch off a bit. Do you have any tips with practicing with fountain pens you’d be willing to share? As much as I try, my handwriting never looks as nice as I want it to with mine. No pressure to respond if not, just wanted to stop by and let you know how much I enjoy your content! Hope you have a pleasant rest of your day/night!

Oh goodness, you’re talking about fic AND fountain pens in the same ask? Stop, stop, I’m already married!

First off, thanks for reading; I’m so glad Perhaps is there for you when ya need it, it makes me really happy to hear. Seriously warms my heart!

As far as fountain pens go... ANON I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO TALK ABOUT I AM SO SORRY THIS WILL BE SUCH A LONG RIDE so I’m going to put it under the cut sorry sorry sorry in this essay I will

Hooray for the Pilot MR (or Metro, here in the US), it’s an AMAZING little pen, and if you’re calling it the MR, chances are you got it with an international standard converter, you lucky, lucky duck. I’m happy you’re enjoying it, as far as beginner pens go, this one is an excellent choice.

When you say “branching out”, this can mean one of two things. It can mean you want to branch out to other brands but a similar price range, or that you’re ready for a ‘next level’ pen. I’ll try to cover both! (I’ll link some of these models to the Goulet Pens website, but feel free to look for them elsewhere--I just really like Goulet’s very thorough descriptions)

If you’re looking to explore other pen models in the MR’s price range, there’s a metric ton of  options! Sticking with Pilot, you can try the Explorer-- a completely different, more streamlined pen than the MR, but if you’re used to the nib on your pen, you have a better idea of what to expect with it. There’s also the Kakuno, which is cheaper, but very cute with its little smiley face nibs haha

Another Japanese pen you can try: the Platinum Plaisir. Aluminum body, but do remember that Platinum nibs generally give a little more feedback than Pilot’s, which are some of the smoothest Japanese-made nibs I’ve ever seen.

You can also try the Diplomat Magnum -- it’s a a great little pen, and I love mine. Keep in mind, it is very lightweight, especially compared to the MR’s metal body, but to me that makes it great for long writing sessions. The nib is completely different--it will write a little wider, a little wetter than the MR (and any other Japanese-made pen), but it’s slightly springy and awesome to write with. Plus, it has an ink window so you can keep track of your ink!

Other options in this price range: the Jinhao 8802 (Shell or Rosewood, and the most bang for your buck imo as far as cheap fountain pens go), the Jinhao x750 or x450 (these are heavier, but they look great!), the TWISBI GO (a teeny, amazing little pen with a spring-loaded piston filling mechanism), and a Kaweco Sport (another pocket-pen, German-made, so the nib will write a little wetter/wider generally) or the Perkeo.

Now, if you’d like to push your price range a little further (only a little! I promise not to break the bank!), you cannot go wrong with Lamy.I am a self-admitted Lamy fangirl, so I may be a little biased, buuuut... it is what it is, their pens are great, they’re easy to disassemble for cleaning (I go totally nuts over it and even disassemble the converters, which you absolutely don’t need to do), and their nibs are SO EASILY INTERCHANGEABLE!

You can pick up a Lamy Safari for fairly cheap nowadays (and ever cheaper look-alikes, which I will never endorse but also will not judge anyone for buying), and they come in so many colours (the O.G. 1980 colours were also just reissued!), they’re like my Pokemon because I want to catch ‘em all.

For a little more, you can get yourself a Lamy AL-Star--the same design of the Safari, but this time in aluminum, which makes it look super cool (but also prone to scratches if you’re the kind of person that puts your pen in your pocket with your keys... that’s... definitely not me...), so keep that in mind.

You can also pick yourself up a Lamy Logo, for a couple more bucks. A completely different design, but still great, particularly if you like slimmer pens.

The nibs on ALL the Lamy models (even the more expensive ones like the Studio or the Scala or even the Dialog) are interchangeable! Even the gold nib on the Dialog! The only exception is the Lamy 2000 (which is probably one of the best pens out there period, and certainly an amazing first-gold-nib pen).

The one thing that absolutely kills me about the cheaper Lamy pens is that, for the most part, none of them come with a converter--you have to buy it separately. Which is fine, it’s not super expensive, and it is widely available, but COME ON, LAMY, JUST GIMME.

If you’d like to try a cool-looking pen with a CRAZY ink capacity and a nifty piston-filling mechanism, look no further than the TWISBI ECO. I have one of these (green, obv), and I love it. Never tires me out, and I stg mine never. dries. out. I don’t know what witchcraft is involved, but it’s an amazing pen for long writing sessions.

Finally, if you’d like to try another Japanese-made pen that is a little more expensive than the Pilot MR or the Platinum Plaisir, there’s the Sailor Compass 1911. This is one of the cheapest Sailor pens I know of, and a good introduction to the brand. Keep in mind that, like Platinum, Sailor nibs will give more feedback than the Pilot you’re used to!

If you would like to push your budget even further, here are some options for fountain pens under $100 (I know, big jump, but it’s good to see what’s out there to you can compare!) from JetPens.

There are a million other brands out there that you can look at. Sheaffer makes great, very cheap and fun beginner pens (including a whole Star Wars Line! They’re adorable!). Hong Dian has a ton of pens that look sleek as hell (like the Forest Series) and they’re all like under 20 bucks. Kaco is another one that makes surprisingly good pens! Parker is also an option, with the Jotter, which is a classic-looking pen. There’s Conklin and Monteverde (which have a ton of fountain pens in a wide range of prices, but I’ve had bad luck with their nibs, so I would suggest you do some independent research on those!), as well as Noodler’s if you’d like to go crazy with some flex nibs! The fountain pen rabbit hole is bottomless. Welcome :D

As far as handwriting goes, I’m afraid I don’t have much more to say besides practice, practice, practice. I learned cursive as a child, but never got into calligraphy, really. Even today, I only just dabble, but whenever I see something I like, I usually just like to try and replicate it. Very often I’ll see a video on Instagram and go Oh my god, how the hell did they write that G, I’ve got to try that and then what follows is me going through page after page on a Rhodia pad trying to imitate them. I like janinescribbles and aidanbernal on Instagram, they’re like handwriting goals--check them out!

A lot of the time, we’re looking for more line variation to make our handwriting look prettier--that’s usually what you see in that fancy, old-timey Spencerian cursive, or even copperplate calligraphy. Unfortunately, you won’t get that with just a regular fountain pen, but there is good news!

There are a TON of different nibs out there. Stub nibs, fude nibs, flex nibs, obliques, cursive italic -- you can even get your pen ground by a professional nibmeister to fit your specifications. There are calligraphy pens (like the Lamy Joy) or pen sets (Kaweco has a Perkeo Calligraphy set, and I believe Sailor has one of their own as well). You can even check out the Pilot Parallel set -- the whole thing is like the price of a Lamy AL-Star, you just won’t do regular writing with it; it’s pretty specifically a calligraphy/lettering set. There are even flex pens in the market (though none of them are as flexy as those old, vintage gold nibs) like the Noodler’s Nib Creaper, Ahab, and Triple Tail or the Conklins with their Omniflex nib (which has been problematic in the past, but I’ve heard good things recently). It’s a whole other rabbit hole!

But honestly, don’t sweat the handwriting too much. Just write a few lines every day, try new things, and get lost for eternity on some Instagram tags!

I think this is a long enough post as it is, so I’ll stop there! SORRY. HOPE IT HELPS!

[calypsoff]

Thirty Nine.

I’m a little nervous, like not even going to front and lie about it but I am very nervous. I am going to meet TJ and Barry, they maybe coming to the home or I meet them. No support, no walking frame, no walking stick or crutches. Just me on my own, I’ve spoken about this day to my therapist, and it’s arrived. He said it’s the day of your freedom, take it with both hands and do it. Barry and TJ said they will come here to me, not seen them in months so I hope they come here first, being able to walk on my own is a blessing, I get emotional thinking about it. I worked so hard for this, lots of work and sweat to just get to this moment of freedom. I can walk on my own, I’m a little slow but I do it and that is the point. My trainer said to keep it to a minimum, meaning long walks is a no but walk. So I am doing just that, Robyn came to see me for the month off and we didn’t have sex, that wasn’t on my mind, she was angrier about my hair and beard, I wanted to I don’t know, surprise her. Which I am, because I’m getting on a flight to Barbados tonight, just for her. She thinks I am staying here; she is currently confused on what to do because after her very last date she wants to stay there, but she thinks I’m not coming but I am. It’s to surprise her, with my new look. I am very happy “Chris” my mother knocked on my bedroom door “come in” I said, she opened the door slowly “shall I finish packing your suitcase?” Nodding my head “also your barber has arrived baby, I’m so excited to see you shaven” I think everyone is “same, I feel like my confidence is going to hit the roof but let me go and see him. He going to be scared” getting up from the bed “it’s been painful to see the mess of your hair” my mother is rude for that.

Making my way to the kitchen “fuck off, you are not Chris Brown. You’re not the nigga I saw last” JC screamed out laughing “are you serious?” He walked over to me so shocked, he is shook “bro, you good?” He hugged me, like he missed me “I’m alive, I just been through hell and back. I’m glad to see you here, my girlfriend is driving me crazy about this beard” he moved back from the hug “not surprised, wow. How you been? I heard you got shot on TMZ, after that no news everything went quiet, come. Sit down, I can’t wait to get your hair done. Usual?” Sitting down on the chair “yeh usual, I just been through hell and back, not going to lie. I have been just trying to put my all into walking again, you see I am a little slow with things but I’m getting there. I just been through so much pain and hurt, like a lot of shit. I stayed away from social media, just concentrated on myself, I needed to get better for myself. Now I am ready to go back to that life, I am ready to be me again” rubbing my beard for the very last time “I actually want blonde coloured curls and side low skin haircut, I want that bro if you can” I want to colour my hair again “I got you! It’s so good to see you, Drake been giving you love online. We all were to be honest, am I the first to see you after all this time” nodding my head smiling “you are bro” it’s good to feel this love from people, I didn’t think they cared like that “I am so glad you good though, has the process been hard for you?” He asked “it’s been so hard, I mean look at me, and I got a girl like Rihanna walking around. Man, I was scared she would have left me but god bless my wife she been there for me, I am ready for the world now” I can’t wait to just get back out there.

I looked at myself in amazement “can you crush on yourself?” JC busted out laughing “I look good, I look sexy as fuck. I ain’t going to be big headed but damn, you done wonders. That is me, I am so happy JC. Hand on my heart, you just gave me a new lease of life with this haircut. It’s what I wanted” getting up from the chair as he moved the mirror back “you going to get laid tonight bro, on my life you are” I laughed “what makes you think I wasn’t, joking. She would rather stay away from me but thank you. Look at the floor, it’s like a hairy ass dog just lost his hair. God damn” that is crazy, the amount of hair he cut off “you look well Chris, better than before” raising an eyebrow “for real? What makes you say that?” Didn’t expect that from him “you’re happier, vibrant. The happiness you feel within yourself is showing Chris, I feel it” that is impressive “it’s all love bro” dapping him “my handsome son! Oh my god, you have done gods work on him, Christopher” my mother just hugged me from behind “Mrs Brown, nice to meet you. My hands hurt now, but you like it? Just how he wanted” my mother was way too excited, she disliked I did that but accepted it, as she would “now this is my son, he kept it to annoy Robyn but annoyed everyone else around you too” my mother speaking the truth now “wow, you should love me no matter what, rude” my mother let me go and I turned around “such a handsome boy, I love you” I cooed out “I love you too ma” hugging my mother “I can’t believe you’re showing me this love now, the hell happened before?” She is so rude.

The boys both decided that they would come here to see me, it’s been a while so it will be emotional, and they are here, I mean I’m all clean now. I can kind of walk I guess, dragging open the door “my fucking brother” TJ is the first one to hug me, I fell back a little “you had me scared out here, it’s been months without seeing you or really speaking to you” he patted my back “I fucking missed you!” Smiling so wide “I missed both you and Barry, it’s been hard on me. I drove myself insane, I really had to pull myself out” TJ moved back, the grip he had on me there “you been working out?” He pointed at me “wouldn’t you like to know” I laughed “bring it in brother” walking to Barry “I love you so much” hugging him “I love you too, I’m so blessed to be here. To be alive, to see you both. To see you all actually, I am so blessed have you both as friends, Robyn told me you both kept the business alive and did so much. I know I kept away from you both, not because I hate you both, but I was going through it. When I got shot it just topped it off, I wasn’t me and I just needed time” moving back from the hug feeling a little choked up “It’s ok, I am glad to see you here with us, smiling and you right. I think Chris got muscle now, can you walk ok though?” Barry questioned, I shrugged “uhm a little bit I guess, I am better than I was. I can walk but I am slow with it, I take time to get to places, but I am ok, I am without any walking frame anymore, so all is well, but please come in. Let’s talk” I gestured.

My mother is always showing out with guests, she has bought out the snacks and drinks but I ain’t got time, I got to get a ring for Robyn “how is Camron? Yo, when I heard you called him Camron Myles, it made my heart so warm. You really did that, why? Also what did Robyn send you, you know that wasn’t me?” TJ laughed “nigga I knew it wasn’t you, she sent a baby grow set, a Gucci one and a Dior set for him. I was shocked. I didn’t expect it, I put it up on my Instagram. Thank you either way, even though you weren’t aware of it, you both come as a team so it’s whatever. I am happy, and I was just thinking how you pulled me and Barry out the hood, you have got us out of a place where we could have been stuck in, VA ain’t all that. You are taking us with you, you ain’t changed on us. I just feel like I am going to be able to provide for my son because of you, you’re my brother and I love you” I cooed out “I can’t wait to meet him bro, is he light skinned like you?” he grinned “you know that he so white I didn’t think he was mine, I was there for the birth. I admire her for going through that pain, not for me though. Good luck when it’s your turn, blood and her cooch was turning all different sizes. It’s the way it just popped out, I was shook” I cringed “dang, that sounds terrible. I think I will be elsewhere for the day when it happens” I say that but it’s a lie, I have no choice in that “but I got a little something I need to tell you boys, I am going to Barbados. Robyn doesn’t know, I am going there to surprise her and also I am going to propose to Robyn while we in Barbados, I think she deserves the title after taking care of me, she did things no woman would generally do, that is on god so yeah” TJ and Barry both dapped each other cheering “knew it! I knew it, I said it to TJ. Soon, but why not, she is beautiful and also has a beautiful heart” I grinned hearing that, she really does “so I need to get a ring before I go, just engagement for now” I don’t even know where to start, how to even get a ring for Robyn.

Ring shopping is actually so hard, I didn’t ever think it would be, but it is. I mean I am trying to ball on a budget first of all but I also cannot do that because this is Rihanna, this is someone that will be showing the ring off so I am digging deep into the savings, I mean I could get her something up to twenty thousand and that is it, I can’t go further then that but if I do that, I have spent all of my savings from the sale of the apartment, so I need to be careful. I do not want to touch my money from the business, that is separate “man, this is long” TJ said, rolling my eyes “you know what sir, what are you looking for?” even the girl is fed up “something that makes a statement but is not like thirty thousand, like I love that ring but it was overboard, I want to spend money but also not too much” she nodded her head “I will be back, please wait here” I hope she can come up with something “I really liked the ring too” I am annoyed that I have to be broke “I told you to take it from the business account but you won’t” they did both say it, but I ain’t doing it. If I do it then it’s like a free for all, we all will do it then “I appreciate that you both did it but no” the lady came back into the room “I really like this, it’s eighteen carat white gold, emerald diamond vintage ring. It is fourteen thousand dollars, it makes a statement like you said, it’s not as big as the thirty thousand but it still makes enough noise, you must really love this girl. I have had men that do not go above a rack” I chuckled “well, there is a reason for that. You may find out soon but thank you” taking the ring for her, it carries weight actually “I like this you know, it’s thick too. You think you could see twin with this on” placing it on my pinkie finger “hell yes, out of them all. That looks good, perfect size for her fingers” looking at the ring on my finger, I think I got a winner here.

My mother gushed over the ring; she is in awe “how much was this?” she questioned “erm guess” placing my hands behind my back “I think this was above twenty thousand?” I am glad she said that “nope, fourteen thousand. I am glad you said that because then it looks expensive. It needs to be right for her. But yeah, I am ready” I sighed out “I am going to hang with the boys outside, be back before I leave for Barbados” pressing a kiss to the side of my mother’ head before walking off, I am so amped for this. I am so confident and happy; I can’t wait to see Robyn. I can’t wait to just hold her, I have missed her so much “you got the blunt going?” TJ held out the blunt to me, grabbing the blunt “I have not had one in so long” placing the blunt between my lips, feeling the smoke fill my lungs. Blowing the smoke out between my lips “here” holding the blunt out back to him “Cali weed is always good but look” lifting my tee up “look at this nigga, he never had a six pack at all” Barry laughed out “bro, I am happy as fuck. Take a picture actually” I need to get back in the game, show the world I am back.

Pressing post on the Instagram post, I just posted my lower half. I ain’t post my face, I am just so proud of my six pack “reenergised? My nigga!” TJ laughed “you get my updates? Wow, I feel you crushing on me hard, I can tell you do” locking my phone “nah, I was already looking and you said you posted” rolling my eyes “sure, I got a ugly ass scar on my thigh though but it is what it is, I am happy” my phone started ringing in my hand, answering Robyn’ call “hey twin” TJ snorted laughing “so we posting thirst traps now?” raising an eyebrow “really? What is that?” I questioned “reenergised and you’re showing your six pack off? Like?” letting out an oh “I don’t post thirst traps, I am just happy with my accomplishment” Robyn is so annoyed “I mean it’s nothing, so are you coming home when you finished your tour?” she is annoyed, I know it “I want to go back to your post, you don’t even send me pictures, show me your face right now” laughing at Robyn being like this “uh, not right now. I will later, stop being this way Robyn” chewing on my bottom lip “that other women are looking at my man’ body, the first thing you put after months. I am going to snap on any bitch thirsting on your page, I am very offended you’re not sending me these pictures Chris!” let me stop laughing “twin, stop. You’re not like this, it’s just a friendly post that got your panties wet” Robyn groaned out “you’re so annoying, honestly” I do love her a lot “show me your face” she ain’t going to drop it “you think I have shaven? No ma’am” I will continue to annoy her, wait till I see her tomorrow she is going to be crying.

[taww]

Review: Legacy i·V2 Class D Stereo Amplifier

Legacy iv2 stereo amplifier

The Audiophile Weekend Warrior (TAWW)

TAWW Rating: 5 / 5

Class D power going toe-to-toe with Class A refinement

PROS: Nonexistent noise and distortion; tube-like midrange purity; full tonal balance with stellar bass; effortless power delivery; top to bottom refinement.

CONS: Ever-so-slight reductions in top-end extension, low-level resolution and dynamic life; slight mechanical buzz; binding posts could be nicer.

Class D (a.k.a. switching) amps have been around for decades, but really started to hit the audiophile scene in the early 2000′s. My first experiences around that time were a mixed bag, to say the least. A PS Audio HCA-2 sent my way for review blew its output stage when I powered it up. (In retrospect, my subwoofer setup may have been the culprit.) I wrote a review of the original NuForce integrated amp which, despite some sonic promise, felt like an unfinished product. The $30, battery-powered Sonic Impact "Class T" amp became a budget sensation, beguiling even some SET tube lovers, but its magic quickly ran out if you demanded more than a few watts from it. (The magic also ran out for its chip manufacturer Tripath, which went bankrupt.) And then there was a first-generation Bang & OIufsen ICEPower module, packaged inside an integrated amp by a high-end marque. It sounded pretty bad - dry, grainy, lifeless. How much was due to the ICEPower module vs. the rest of the amp is impossible to say, but it wasn't an auspicious introduction to the technology. Given this checkered past, it's little wonder Class D has been battling a reputation for sonic mediocrity with audiophiles. But new technologies make progress quickly, and the increasing number of rave reviews for the latest and greatest from Hypex, Pascal, ICEPower and others had me wondering... has Class D finally "made it" sonically? My time so far with the ICEPower-based Legacy i·V2 (USD $4,785) has been a pretty convincing yes.

Description

I won’t get into all the history and technical details of ICEpower technology - for that, I recommend this excellent audioXpress article. Of note is that ICEPower, after starting off as an independent subsidiary of Bang & Olufsen, split off into its own entity in 2016. The ICEedge controller chip at the heart of the Legacy amp’s 1200AS modules had been under development for 7 years and represents the latest and greatest iteration of ICEpower’s proprietary technology. It can scale in power from 50 to as many as 7,000 watts, and unlike some of those earlier Class D amps I tried, it has an array of sophisticated control and protection features to ensure smooth, bulletproof operation. In many months with the amp I’ve experienced zero clicks, thumps, signs of oscillation or other hiccups.

A kilowatt of clean power from this one board!

The i·V2 implements the ICEdge 1200AS modules as-is without any bespoke customizations to the circuit. (Note that this is the higher-performance mono 1200AS module, not the less expensive 1200AS2 stereo module that’s much more common.) Some other brands add their own input stage, but Legacy chief Bill Dudleston has opted to keep things stock and simple. You might be wondering, why can't I buy these modules myself then, slap them in a Chinese enclosure from eBay, save thousands of dollars and call it a day? The simple answer is ICEPower only sells them to OEMs, and forbids direct sales to consumers. But Mr. Dudleston also mentioned grounding of the modules as an area of special care, saying they were able to achieve a few dB's of additional noise performance through careful experimentation. At this level of power and performance, the little things matter.

Speaking of enclosures, the i·V2 has an extremely solid all-aluminum chassis with rose gold accent trim and plenty of ventilation around the modules. It's reassuringly hefty at 30lbs/13.6kg, so you wouldn't immediately guess it's a class D amp were it not for the 610W continuous (1000W peak) power rating. There's zero flex anywhere and while I have no idea how sensitive the modules are to vibration, knocking on the chassis gives a satisfyingly dull thud - much superior to anything you'd get on eBay or from lower-priced ICEPower resellers. There's a meter on the front, however this is neither a power meter as on McIntosh, nor a bias meter as on Pass Labs, but a measurement of the available AC power line voltage. There's a small pot on the rear panel to center it, and once calibrated it stays motionless during operation. I'm not really sure of the purpose of it, perhaps to monitor if your power lines are sagging when pulling in excess of the 1200 watts that the i·V2 is capable of delivering. The overall look is nicely done though probably a matter of taste... my wife not-so-affectionately nicknamed the amp "JARVIS" [sic] because the triangular meter reminded her of the yellow mindstone on the forehead of Vision, JARVIS's superhero embodiment in the Avengers movies. In what seems to be the fashion these days, the power/standby switch is located under the front panel, and there's an additional power switch at the AC inlet. One set of very standard 5-way insulated binding posts is provided along with balanced XLR and unbalanced RCA inputs. At this price point, I would have liked nicer posts, e.g. Furutech or WBT Nextgen. Not that there's anything wrong with the provided ones, and perhaps these posts were necessary to meet the extremely high power spec, but they feel decidedly prosaic and less pleasant to turn vs. the now-ubiquitous WBT's. A 12v trigger input rounds out the package.

Can’t get enough of rose gold? The i·V2 has you covered.

Setup

I tested the amp in two very different systems: the main reference rig, consisting of PS Audio DirectStream DAC ($6k), Gryphon Essence preamp ($17k) and Audiovector SR 6 Avantgarde Aretté ($25k) speakers; and a second system with RME ADI-2 DAC ($1200), Pass Labs XP10 preamp ($5k) and Silverline Prelude Plus ($2k). As you can imagine, really critical listening was done with the reference rig, but the second setup helped feel out how l the Legacy worked in a less expensive system. Interconnects are my usual mix of Audience Au24 SX and DH Labs Air Matrix; speaker cables were Audience Au24 SX or Furutech DSS-4.1. With the big rig, the Furutech was an excellent match; in the smaller system I used the Audience. I used only the balanced XLR inputs of the amp, so if your results differ from mine and you're using unbalanced RCA, that may be a factor. My system has been fully balanced for several years now and there's been no looking back.

The i·V2 is somewhat sensitive to the choice of power cord. I say "somewhat" because it certainly won't sound wrong or bad with a given cord, the stock one included, but nuances of its presentation can change - bass response, hall perspective, top end extension and soundstage proportion were the most noticeable aspects. For most of the time I was admittedly lazy and used a trusty Audience powerChord SEi without further thought. One day I finally swapped one of @mgd-taww​'s proprietary cords and found it to make a nice difference, which warranted some further tinkering. I found the otherwise superlative Furutech DPS-4.1 to not be a great match - it delivered tons of detail and a huge soundstage, but sounded slightly hollow tonally and lost some of the i·V2's endearing smoothness. The Audience Forte F3 (currently $149) was the big surprise - I actually preferred it to the more expensive powerChord. Audience graciously provided me with a set of Forte F3 cords a few years back when they debuted, but I haven't spoken much about them as I hadn't gotten them to click in my system. With most gear, the Forte was lighter, airier, but lacking some substance and transparency vs. the big-brother powerChord SEi. But with the i·V2, the Forte was surprisingly even better balanced and focused than the powerChord, with a more present midrange, more mid-bass punch and a bit more attack and air on the top end. Some systems and ears may still prefer the more laid-back perspective and silkier top end of the powerChord, but I really liked what the Forte did. At such a reasonable price point, it's a no-brainer upgrade over stock.

Direct connection from the RME DAC worked, but a preamp was much preferable.

A quick word about preamps: you need one with this amp. The RME DAC didn't sound particularly good driving the i·V2 directly and greatly benefited from the Pass Labs XP10. Moving up to the Gryphon Essence preamp was even better, and the i·V2 was more than resolving enough to reveal the Gryphon's substantial advantage in musical resolution and extension at the frequency extremes over the Pass Labs. As mentioned, many purveyors of Class D amplifier modules add their own flavor to the sound with an extra input stage (e.g. PS Audio adds a tube input buffer to the Stellar M1200) and this is one interesting way to go, but my preference would probably be to stick with a vanilla but more neutral ICEdge module as in the i·V2, then tune the system with a proper preamp.

Another setup observation: yes, Class D runs extremely cool vs. traditional amps, but they do still generate some heat and I was a bit surprised that the i·V2 always ran slight warm to the touch, similar to the Bryston 4B Cubed. And sure enough, I measured around 58W of power draw at idle - virtually identical to the Class AB Bryston, or an Ayre AX7e integrated for that matter. The big difference is that the i·V2 will deliver the vast majority of its musical power thereafter into the speakers and not the heatsinks, and temperature rose very little even during some heavy listening sessions. It will never get burning hot, but please don't stick it in an enclosed cabinet - as always, ventilation is still required. If you plan to keep the amp in standby, rest assured it draws only around 0.3W, and sound is delivered almost immediately upon power-up. It does require a few minutes to start sounding its best, but certainly warms up much faster than Class A or AB amps that generally require an hour or more to get close to their full potential.

I do wish the binding posts were fancier...

Finally, while the amplifier is absolutely dead quiet through the 92.5dB-efficienty Audiovector speakers, I noticed a slight buzzing sound from the amplifier modules themselves. It wasn't really audible from the listening position, but you could definitely hear it by the equipment rack. It's comparable to the slight buzz from a toroidal transformer that's dealing with a little DC on the power line, but I'm unsure that is the cause here vs. some intrinsic noise from the ICEPower's switching supply. None of my other components are having this issue at the moment, though in fairness, the Gryphons' exceptional quality transformers that are fully potted and enclosed set a benchmark for mechanical quietness. Not a major issue, just mentioning for completeness.

The Sound

Looking back at my listening notes from the first couple hundred hours of the i·V2's time in my system, it was apparent that I really needed to give the amp more time to break in. I should have known better, as my experience with audio gear employing high-speed switching circuits like DACs and Class D amps is they take a very long time to settle in. The DirectStream DAC needed at least 500 hours to sound its best, and despite cranking the Legacy amp into a 4-ohm dummy load for dozens of hours at a time with my break-in playlist, it took a couple hundred more hours before the Legacy started to click in the reference system. The second system is more forgiving and sounded good earlier on, but I'd still make sure to give the amp many, many hours before passing judgement.

Once that was out of the way, listening impressions were consistent and roundly impressive. Among the Legacy's more enviable characteristics: super low distortion; dead-quiet silence; terrific bass response; seemingly endless power on tap; smooth tonality with no discernible coloration; a surprisingly silky treble and full mid-bass; and a relaxed, slightly laid-back perspective that's a bit less immediate than my Class A amps, but still resolving and involving. Let's delve in...

Head to head with the mighty Gryphon Essence

Tonally, the Legacy struck me as slightly mellower than my reference Gryphon Essence, at least with the Audiovector speakers. I hesitate to say the Legacy is "warmer," or the Gryphon is "brighter.” The Legacy, along with the Gryphon or the Bryston 4B Cubed have less overt tonal coloration compared to, say, the Pass XA30.5 (distinctly but not excessively warm), Valvet A4 Mk.II (more forward in the upper midrange) or Ayre AX7e (crisper and lighter). The upper frequencies were very slightly less prominent with the Legacy than the Gryphon, even though I’d never call the Gryphon bright or the Legacy rolled-off. There’s just a little less air in the soundstage, and instruments with strong HF energy like Donald Byrd’s trumpet in “Witchcraft” (Byrd in Hand, Qobuz 16/44) felt slightly curtailed vs. the ultra-open Gryphon. It might have more to do with the amps’ approach to harmonics than their inherent brightness, which I’ll get to later.

The midrange is smooth and balanced, with a purity that's a step above my aural memory of the Pass and Bryston. As with the treble, it has a sense of warmth and silkiness not for what it adds to the signal, but for what it doesn't. It’s so exceptionally free of any audible distortion that even the lovely Valvet sounded a tiny bit grainy and coarse by comparison. Given that I lauded the Valvet for its midrange purity relative to the Bryston 4B3, which in turn I also liked for its midrange quality, that’s saying something.

Class D amps typically have great bass, and the Legacy didn't disappoint. Earlier in the review period, it easily surpassed the Gryphon in weight and punch, making the Gryphon sound slightly anemic on tracks like Billie Eilish's “all the good girls go to hell” (Qobuz 24/44). It was also more neutral and controlled than the Pass while having even more punch. The Gryphon still has more texture, depth and musical resolution with my speakers, and more recently it has retaken the lead in overall bass response for reasons I'm still trying understand. Either the Gryphon has finally fully broken in its enormous bank of supply capacitors, or improvements to other aspects of the system (e.g. a 20A power line) have favored it. Given that many love the bass performance of Pass Labs and the Gryphon is considered world-class in that regard, the Legacy has to be considered superb, with both the power and refinement to satisfy music lovers across a wide spectrum of genres and tastes.

What really stands out about the i·V2 is how it can combine all of the above qualities with over 600 watts of continuous power, yielding a balanced presentation that's utterly composed regardless of volume level or material. The way it scales its refinement beyond ear-splitting levels makes most every traditional amp seem shouty, edgy or strained by comparison. While the Bryston 4B3 sounded better the louder I played it, it wasn't as smooth and detailed; the Pass XA30.5 got a bit lumpy and loose at the limit; the Valvet gets a little edgy and coarse at moderately high levels; and even the mighty Gryphon Essence can get subtly brighter as you ask more power of it. The Legacy is an effortlessly smooth operator, and I certainly didn't have a speaker on hand that could faze it in any way.

Tradeoffs

Resolution of fine detail is where the Class A stalwarts pull away from the Legacy. There’s a few aspects of reproduction where this exhibits: top-end extension, harmonic resolution, very low level detail and soundstaging, which I’ll attempt to detail...

The top-end is what I would call slightly soft. It's not rolled-off, nor did I find it "dark" as I've seen some people call it. It's more that a level of sparkle and sheen that is subtly omitted from the sound. Instruments like cymbals, triangles and trumpets still have realistic tonality, they just feel slightly softer around the edges. This also affects the feeling of harmonic completeness - the highest overtones of woodwinds are somewhat curtailed. This led my oboist wife to comment that the i·V2 made oboists she was personally familiar with sound even smoother and sweeter than real life, whereas the honesty of the Gryphon Essence gave a more realistic representation.

The Valvet A4 Mk.II and certainly the Gryhon Essence, and by aural recollection the Pass XA30.5, also capture a bit more of the ambient signature in a recording - the "hall" sound, the sense of performers in a space. It’s not that the Legacy is very lacking in this respect, but similar to early SACD players, it does still have a touch of the “velvet curtain” effect where below a certain threshold, subtle parts of the signal seem attenuated. This can also makes listening at very low levels a tiny bit muffled. Resolution is still excellent, at least on par with amps around the $5k price point, e.g. the Bryston 4B Cubed. A pair of Benchmark AHB2’s could be interesting competition, but I haven’t heard it, and it doesn’t have anywhere near the current capability of the Legacy.

The last area where I found the Class A amps superior was dynamic contrasts. Despite the Legacy being the most power amplifier I have ever used by a long shot, it actually didn't sound more dynamic at typical volume than the 50 watt Gryphon, or the 55 watt Valvet monoblocks. Sure, it will play much louder than they can, but loudness isn't the same as dynamics. The Gryphon and Valvet both had a bit more life, a bit more contrast in colors... I hate to say it, but more “PRAT.” I'd put the Legacy somewhere between these amps and the Bryston 4B Cubed, which had a greater tendency to flatten dynamic nuances. (Note: my speakers are quite efficient and tame, so I’d imagine this could be a very different story into something significantly under 90dB/watt and/or presenting a tougher load.)

One more caveat to the above observations: it might be more speaker-dependent with the i·V2 than a typical linear amplifier. Interestingly, I found the i·V2 to kind of be the opposite in terms of speaker interactions and tonality to what I usually experience with my systems. The reference Audiovector speakers, with their ruthlessly revealing AMT tweeters and critically balanced tonality tend to be less forgiving of amplifiers than the much more affordable Silverlines with their soft-dome tweeter. However I actually found the i·V2 to bring out just a bit of upper midrange and lower treble prominence with the Silverline (not a bad thing per se), while sounding comparatively mellow with the Audiovectors. Load-dependent performance is a well-known challenge with the Class D topology, and while designers have found increasingly sophisticated means of mitigating it, it is probably still a factor here, albeit a much more nuanced one than in the past. I have to wonder if this variability is why one still hears of such wildly varying opinions of Class D amps... in any case, an audition with your preferred speakers is highly advisable. 

Further Musings...

The Legacy i·V2's exceptional performance forced me to check my notions of fidelity. In terms of measured performance, it’s among the best I’ve experienced (along with the Bryston 4B Cubed), and my ears registered its sound as correspondingly pure and distortion-free. Could the Legacy's slightly smoother, less bright and less overtly dimensional perspective actually be more accurate than my other amps? It's been shown (by e.g. Nelson Pass) that some judicious 2nd order harmonic distortion can add a sense of dimensionality to a recording, which explains why tubes can sound so "holographic". In the tube case, I find this to be a euphonic (albeit lovely) deviation from the original recording. The Gryphon Essence is also a soundstaging beast, and while it’s far more neutral than any tube amp I’ve heard, could some of its dimensionality also be additive rather than accurate? Could something similar be said of the i·V2 slightly soft treble - is this actually the absence of distortion that exists in virtually all other systems, including the ones used to master recordings? Listening to a bright pop album, e.g. Dedicated by Carly Rae Jepsen (Qobuz 24/44), the i·V2 was certainly more listenable than the crisper and more sibilant Gryphon. On the other hand, the Gryphon has a bracing immediacy, a feeling of being pulled into the mix and enveloped by the music. The i·V2 by comparison is a little tame, a little reserved, perhaps even a tad muffled. Is that extra dynamic verve and contrast I hear from the Gryphon and other Class A amps real, or an artifact? Which is more accurate?

Because of the infinite number of variables in the recording and playback chain, there's likely no clear-cut answer. While no one buys a Gryphon or Pass Labs for the best specs, there’s no denying that the latest crop of Class D amps are on another level of measured performance from old-school Class A machinery. On the other hand, I do feel the i·V2 subtracts a few things from the signal. How much does that matter to your ears in your system? It's a close enough call that I can imagine circumstances of some preferring the Legacy to the Gryphon. For me personally, while I could happily live with the Legacy, I do inevitably find myself returning to the Gryphon for those extra nuances - the fineness of instrumental textures, the palpability of the soundstage, the dynamic inflections - the things that make hifi more evocative of the real thing. 

I recently attended a lovely performance by The Cleveland Orchestra in their summer home, Blossom Music Festival. (Hurray for the return of live concerts!) When I returned home that evening, the Legacy was hooked up in the system. I put on a live recording of the Philadelphia Orchestra - not at all equivalent in venue or performance to what I had just heard, but bear with me - and it struck me that the tonality of the i·V2 was actually quite evocative of the real thing. Live orchestral performances have a ton of energy, and yet they sound so smooth and sweet compared to typical reproduced sound. The i·V2 captured that silkiness to a greater degree than I’ve heard in my system, but was lacking some of the edge and vitality. Switching to the Gryphon gave me more of the excitement of the live event, but tonally it wasn’t quite as spot on. At this point, we’re probably approaching the limits of conventional reproduced sound, so some tradeoff will be necessary. Which one is “better” may depend on your frame of reference. E.g. if you like the neutrality and balance of solid state amps, you'll likely find little missing from the Legacy's presentation; if you favor the tonal color, dynamic verve and larger-than-life presence of tubes, you may find the Legacy a little dull. The very fact that I'm having to finely parse these matters of fidelity and taste is a testament to the overall excellence and refinement of the i·V2. To accomplish that that with 610 watts on tap for under $5k is a significant milestone for Class D technology, and a remarkable feat of engineering.

I must mention the obvious ecological benefits of Class D over Class A - we are drawing literally hundreds fewer watts, we don't need to keep it running or warm it up for extended periods to sound good and we are generating far less waste heat. The electric bill and thus cost of ownership will also be appreciably less. On the flip side, the jury is still out on how long these amps will last, vs. a Gryphon or Pass Labs or Bryston that one can easily imagine humming along for 20+ years. As such, and as is often the case with newer and more commoditized tech, I'd expect resale value to be significantly lower than those marques. Just a couple extra things to consider when you're plunking down a not-inconsiderable amount of money on a piece of kit.

Conclusion

The Legacy i·V2, and Class D amplification more broadly, are emblematic of larger shifts in high-end audio technology. Just as solid state and digital audio took a while to hit their stride and gain legitimacy in the exalted (ok I'll say it, snobby) circles of the high-end, we've hit a point of maturity with Class D where technological sophistication and subjective fidelity can go hand in hand. The fact that I strained my ears comparing the i·V2 to a $24k Class A reference that is far and away the best amplifier I have ever heard in my system is all the proof I needed. For under $5k, the Legacy i·V2 delivers a balance of refinement and power that is unmatched by any conventional amplifier I'm aware of near its price point, and competitive in absolute terms with the better amplifiers under $10k and beyond, regardless of technology. It's a cut above what I heard from the Bryston 4B Cubed, and while I haven't had the Pass Labs XA.8 series in my own room, I would not hesitate to line it up against them. Many may still prefer the more overt musicality of the hot-running Pass behemoths, but my feeling is it'll be more a matter of personal taste or system matching, as opposed to one of absolute fidelity.

I have a few burning questions on my mind now. The first is how Legacy's implementation of the ICEdge 1200AS compares to other ones on the market - could you get similar or even better performance for less? The next one is how does the Legacy/ICEdge stack up against other Class D implementations from Hypex, Purifi, Pascal and others? And finally, I've also heard a lot of wonderful things about the Class H Benchmark AHB-2 from ears I trust. It too is compact, cool-running, superbly specified and relatively affordable, but utilizes a sophisticated implementation of traditional linear amplification technology. I would love to compare and contrast the Legacy with that amp.

In the meantime, I strongly endorse an audition of this amplifier without prejudice. It's a remarkable achievement in amplification - highly recommended!

[halfpennythoughts]

How I Spent My Unemployment Money and Why It Matters

I don’t usually get political here, but watching the discussion of whether to extend the extra COVID $600 unemployment past July because “some people are making more on unemployment” is a hard thing. So here’s my answer, not that anyone is listening:

Firstly: so many people need that money to get by. It’s a desperate crisis. Even now, with things reopening, very few everyday workers’ salaries are the same. Restaurants are allowing 25% capacity, so waiters are getting 25% of the tip money they usually count on. Hourly workers are being barred from overtime as the businesses look for ways to make up lost profits. There are heaps of stories of people for whom this financial support will literally be the difference between life and death.

Now, on to the argument that this lifesaving support might be too generous for a small percentage of recipients:

I make more on unemployment than I do in my job. I have a college degree in my field, and before covid gutted my industry, I worked 10+ hour days, Monday through Friday, and was more or less getting by. Money was tight, in the way that it is when you keep a mental map of which gas stations are cheaper per gallon and a $1/hr raise changed the way I was living. I’m on standby now, meaning once business resumes I will have work--but it will be a while before business resumes, and longer still before I can go back to my usual schedule and salary.

So when I started on unemployment, I found myself with an extra $300 a month, more or less. Chump change to some folks, but not to someone like me. What did I do with that money? *The very first thing I did was donate a bit back, to charities supporting health, human rights, and other support for those less impacted than me. Good fortune needs to be repaid in kind, and it’s only right that those who have something to give support those who do not. *Then I went online and checked all my favorite local stores, both here and my hometown, to see which ones had transitioned to online sales. As small business, not many of them were set up for that, but of the ones that were, I purchased ‘luxury’ items--books, shirts, Christmas gifts for friends--that I normally would call “beyond my means.” Purchases of $20, $30. Trying to keep businesses afloat in hard times while also, FINALLY, buying a shirt “just because” and not because I needed a new one, without agonizing over the decision, without waiting to see if it would end up in clearance. Just, “Hey, this is neat, I’m going to get it, add to cart.” Amazing. Do some people live like this all the time?

*With the support of unemployment, I didn’t have to ask my landlord--a kind and wonderful guy--to tighten his own belt and accept reduced rent payments. I was happy and proud to keep paying my rent each month in full. 

*I went to the doctor, and then I went to the follow-up appointments scheduled, for long-term health issues I had had that I had just been living with without getting it checked out.

*I started saving aside $25 regularly so that when it becomes safe to travel again, I might be able to go on a weekend trip to Vegas with my brother. That’s money set aside with the intent to go right back into the economy--vendors, travel companies, hotels, performers, artists, restaurants.  *I bought gifts and started assembling care packages, to mail via the US post office to friends and family, in order to brighten their spirits and support them in hard times. I could afford real gifts for Mother’s and Father’s day, not just a handmade card. *I bought supplies to make crafts, and I taught myself new skills--crochet, weaving. I focused on self-improvement. My new hobbies encourage me to spend on them in the future, save up for new yarn and supplies. In the past, the tighter my budget, the more I engaged my time in free endeavors, things like watching Youtube or playing free app games. Now my dollars are being fed back into the economy.

Now if that $600/week extra was cut, that means I would be making, instead of an extra $300/month, over $1600 LESS a month living on unemployment. I would suddenly not only be unable to contribute back to society, I wouldn’t even be able to pay my rent, let alone buy clothes or food or gifts or any non-critical purchases like yarn or books. It would be dire straits. Cutting that support isn’t just carving a bit off the top so I wouldn’t be making “extra,” it would mean making half of what I need to get by on.

My point here is... so what? So what if, with the extra support, a small percentage of us make more now than we did when we were working? Especially when for so many people, their regular wages aren’t even enough to live by? 

Isn’t the whole point to “stimulate the economy”? Sometimes when people have a lot of money, they get used to the idea that that money sits in accounts somewhere, gets put in savings, gets hoarded like a dragon’s gold in a cave. That’s not what’s happening here. Having the blessing of this financial support allows us to use that money to push profits at businesses, so the government doesn’t have to bail them out or add more unemployed to the ranks of those who need aid. It allows us to donate money to services that work in tandem with government services to get resources to medical workers, food to the hungry, aid to the sick. It allows us to invest in disinfecting products and practices (like ordering no-contact delivery instead of going out) to keep ourselves safe and reduce the spread of disease.

That support is contingent on the pandemic crisis we are in. None of us have some sort of silly illusion that we can kick back and enjoy “handouts” and not have to go back to work. I MISS work. All my coworkers talk about is getting back to work. Being trapped at home is no picnic, and it’s not the nature of the human spirit to be content with doing nothing--we would much rather carve out our own destinies, be self-sufficient, self-reliant. But the fact of the matter is, this crisis is not behind us yet, and would only worsen if the people who need it most are abandoned now.

So again, if the argument is that “some people” are making more now than they did before, I think it bears remembering that those of us who do are not rolling in bathtubs of bills like Scrooge McDuck. We’re spending that money, dumping it like grease on the slow-grinding gears of the economy, trying to keep it running smoothly until we can all get back to work. 

And we must remember that for every one of me, there are hundreds if not thousands for whom this financial support is not about the new revelation of having spending money left over--for them, it is what they need simply to live, to feed their babies, pay their bills, and keep the lights on. And I personally would be sickened and horrified if someone used my situation to deny them of their most basic human needs in this time of crisis, when what we really need is to be pulling together as a community and a nation.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Season Zero: All Your Friends are Cursed

You know what? It’s been a while, lets revisit Zero.

For those new here, I’ve been also very slowly going through Season Zero alongside the show we are more familiar with, which is not at all the same as the other seasons. If you want to read just the recaps of Zero from the beginning you can do that by clicking on this link right here. I think I’ve only done like 3 or 4 so far.

OK. It’s been...a time since we ventured here to this very weird place, where were we?

So, first off you may have noticed there was a wee gap in updating, this is mostly because I burned up all my backlog when I got sick for two weeks (and I’m still hella tired) so...I’m playing catch up and this is a hobby, so it takes a back seat. But also, it’s partially because I was like suuuper conflicted with what I should do about that logo. Like, I did feel like I had to blur it just because I don’t want there to be confusion if the images ever get pulled away from this post, but I was seriously considering just repainting every cap because it sure bothered me a whole lot.

It was Illustrator OCD Problems that in the end don’t matter, but you can see my quandary of the right corner in the rest of these. Anyways, thanks Team Millennium for the fandubs so I don’t have to cap over subs. Y’all did a good job, and I get why they need to watermark since like...it’s Youtube so every random bot channel is stealing any other video getting clicks.

Also, this took a while because it’s like over 60 caps long. These Season Zero episodes are just...so much content. They’re so much. And I thought this one handles some interesting themes, so grab yourself a snack, because this is gonna be a little bit of a marathon. I could split it into two but like...I don’t know where to split it, so enjoy. This post is basically a 2 for 1.

Anyway, Shadi’s back. I didn’t really expect for him to be back so soon, but he’s here with a vengeance. He spooks up on Grandpa’s old Egyptologist friend (who’s name I have forgotten) and this guy kind of already knows what’s next.

In this episode, as you can see from the title, everyone is gonna get cursed. Except Miho, but like, I tend to forget she exists. We start off with Yuugi’s Grandfather’s friend getting tossed out a window, which is sort of strange because you figure that this guy wouldn’t let a girl drown down a well for a rare coin (which was the Shadi metric for if you deserve to be eaten by a chair). But apparently we were wrong and Grandpa’s friend has actually been a jackass this entire time.

"Your friend has actually been a jackass this entire time” is another underlying theme of this episode. What’s wild is that Yuugi and his Grandpa are not at all surprised by this revelation, nor do they seem to mind.

Shadi says something cryptic, decides he wants a rematch with the alter ego of Yuugi Muto, and then has the weirdest plan of how to do it. The rest of this recap is basically all of Shadi’s master plan and it’s...pretty...something.

(read more under the cut)

Since we haven’t gotten a Miho episode, I haven’t really gotten a chance to learn what she...is. Right now she just seems like a G rated Cheryl Tunt. Which is probably incorrect, I dunno maybe this girl will end up being their savior but for right now she just kind of uses Tristan for favors and enjoys spooky stuff maybe a little too much. I’m not sure she’s even aware what planet she’s on.

Shadi’s also looking more and more like a bird this episode with the artistic choice to join the brow to the nose with a deep shadow like this. If there’s deeper historical meaning to that, I have no idea. Went on a little deep dive through Google to see if it matches from art and sarcophagi from Egypt and Greece but like...nah. You do get a strong thin nose on golden sarcophagi that can give it a really cut look since it’s usually covered in reflective gold, so that could be it. But overall, joining the nose to brow is something more modern, I think. Just our own touch to make him a spook.

And honestly Yugioh really does enjoy putting a very heavy shadow between the eyebrows, but usually in the form of lots of lines and not a solid black shape.

Youknow we’ve never had the chance to enter anyone’s mind space before. I kind of assumed that no one other than Yuugi even had one. So Anzu’s mind, shouldn’t be too ba- oh

Just take this whole sequence, put some generic lo-fi on it, and you have yourself a youtube channel. It’s amazing how, since the 90′s anime style is back into fashion, this bizarre sequence just hit so many good notes. Those pink and blue flowers matched with a silver metallic tree with weird purple fruit? Not gonna lie, that’s some good inspo material. Maye not the weird bird and terrifying 90′s sun--I don’t know why he’s here--but everything else? Shoot.

This hasn’t come up before and the only guy with G in his name that I can think of is Gozoboro and he cannot be this guy. Maybe just a reference to some comic book stuff because he does have a Superman shape to that G, but I don’t know comics well enough to know if this was a manga Superman parody.

PS now that we know that Tea’s mind is just a lo-fi channel, we now know that Bakura and Marik have just been hanging out next to a weird silver fruit tree, staring at a horrifying green sun and avoiding eye contact with one single green bird for basically this entire Noah arc. Assuming of course that a piece of Bakura is still in there in Tea’s mind, which he may have decided to vacate at this point because what’s he supposed to do in there? Do barre?

Maybe they both just do barre workouts in the tea mindfort while a parrot awkwardly watches.

So Shadi has been just hanging out in Tea’s head for how long? Like half a day now?

She really has always been the ghost uber. From the very beginning. Wow.

Also, speaking of vaporwave, the pink to yellow tint on the irises? A+. That could be your lo-fi thumbnail, easy.

Anyway we are blessed with another tiny Yuugi this episode. I think I’ve mentioned it before but I’ll mention it again, I love it when artists have to draw their characters as small as ants because then the characters are given their rawest, purest form. Which in his case is just being very squat and having hair with spikes.

And then Anzu somehow hides in this closet and tips over a bunch of beams at him. Are these cross country beams? What are these? I did water polo and swim team so I just have no idea what you land people did.

When beams don’t work out, Shadi sets in play the next step of his super evil and sinister plan. Please remember that this guy is a 5000 year old very scary ghost with crazy OP powers.

So then Shadi starts his third phase. So far we’ve had a bunch of poles and a basketball, what will be next? Will Anzu come up with two chalkboard erasers and start pounding them together to make a sick chalk cloud? Will Anzu step on the back of Yuugi’s shoe so his foot falls out? Will Anzu unzip his backpack when he’s not looking so all his books fall out? What dick move will Anzu do?

SOOOOOO

This is a thing that canonically happened in Yugioh.

It’s like finding out that Big Bird once violently choked out Elmo in Season One but now they’re good and they don’t want to talk about it.

Like...this is a lot and it’s not even discussed in this very episode!

The one time.

The one time they should have just ditched.

This is the one time you should just find a boat/blimp, smuggle yourself on board, and then play cards for a straight week with an evil psychopath. The one time.

No wonder they go out of their way to avoid this school for the rest of this show. They ditch just to survive their 1st year of High School.

So they decided to split up which...they’ve made worse choices, and only Yugi finds Tea. What would Shadi’s plan have been if anyone else was up here first?

Reminder that in the second or third episode of Season 1, Joey and Yugi came up here to reminisce the good ol days. I had no idea at the time that the “good ol days” involved being dangled on the edge of whatever this weird contraption is called.

Eat your heart out Jeffree Star and Rituel de Fille, Shadi here did black highlighter first. In 1999. And that nose is snatched.

Appropriately, Honda is still embracing his janitorial duties. Maybe that’s why he’s not a janitor anymore? Because he was getting tooooo into being a janitor? Like if you go janitor while being a zombie that’s toooooo much janitorial.

Another thing Season Zero does that may either be a limitation of their budget or just a limitation of their experience is that, unlike most foreign films, the pacing of the cuts are really quick. Like REALLY frantic. (And yeah I’m generalizing a lot when I say that Western shows and movies have quicker cuts, but lets just say that it’s true about 90% of the time. Not better or worse, just different.)

And like, this was the 90′s, a time period I don’t really remember, but back then we were into bizarre editing. It was a very experimental time in film because suddenly there were a lot of computer and filming tools available for a decent price and people kind of lost their minds. They were getting into doing tons of dutch angles and tons of filters and it was just a real...interesting time in film. It’s gauche by our standards but like...art kind of lives in the time period it’s from and you shouldn’t pull it out and compare it to our current standards too much because--welcome to 90′s Xtreme cuts. Docking something for being too 90′s is like saying that medieval art sucks balls because they didn’t want to use perspective and all their cats look weird. This was the time.

It’s just interesting to me that they decided to attempt to copy this frantic editing style into a cartoon when it’s normally done splicing together live action shots that were done with three+ different cameras. They planned out each cut in a storyboard and drew every frame. It was a lot of work. And it didn’t age well, which is a shame.

And it could have been that because this is a horror show, they decided to experiment. It’s a pretty edge show based on a pretty intense manga. But, it’s...interesting. Can’t exactly cap it, you’ll have to watch it for itself but it’s...interesting. And overall, I honestly feel like I can’t come to any conclusions about the direction that Season Zero editing has taken since I’ve only seen four episodes, so these are just my five cents, don’t quote me on it. I may take back this opinion a few episodes from now.

Y’all this was never told to us until like Season 2. Season Zero told us this in like episode 4. Would have been really nice to have this information a little earlier.

So then we introduce the mummy mechanic of this “game.” Anzu’s plank contraption is tied to these baby mummies. Kind of looks like they’re chocolate mummies you get from the Egyptian museum store. In fact, They might actually be museum gift shop chocolate mummies that Shadi shoplifted up after he killed that fat guy.

Not sure how he set any of this up, especially when he totally botched it with the beams and the basketball and the strangling, but somehow, Shadi got this complicated knot system all ready to go. Weird how Marik was the one on the boat when Shadi has like a degree in knots.

So I said this in the last episode but we get this reoccurring theme in Season Zero where Yugioh is a little boy learning to grow up and be a man, and yet every guy he meets has just a pile of toxic misinformation about how to be a powerful adult. In Shadi’s case, he believes that weakness stems from caring about other people and relying on them for support, hallmarks of mortality. Which is easy for Shadi to say because he’s some 5000 yo undead (I think?) with no friends, unless you count Chair Barney. But Shadi’s pretty sure that attachment to living people will only ultimately hurt you, especially when they’re complete assholes, which most of Yuugi’s friends are. They’re good assholes, though.

It’s a pretty common anime trope and I’m surprised it took us this long to get to the power of friendship. Freakin finally. And there’s nothing wrong with tropes. It’s how stories are made.

Anyways, in case you thought this episode would not address the teachers, they actually did for about 3 seconds.

Neat that this is the most unsafe school in all of Japan.

I am a fan of the combo of blue, purple, green, and very large teeth. I will give Chair Barney that much. Anyway, lets see what game Shadi made.

Oh cool, it’s the game I made to go in my babysitting kit when I was like 11.

Granted, so were playing cards.

Wow everyone is just assaulting each other this episode, damn!

Back on the roof, Yugi calmly wins the game without ever flipping a tile.

Now for some reason I missed the part where he says “two feet” and so I was missing a pair of things and so I listened to this part again and either my sick brain missed it three times (cuz y’all I have had the plague and my recovery has been so sloooow) there were these shapes on the tiles that looked like kidneys and I thought--but it’s not two kidneys, right? and I was like what else is a pair and round and lobby shaped? and then I didn’t really want to go there, and assumed--FEET.

Knowing full well feet are not kidney shaped, but I’m gonna assume he said feet. If he actually said weird monster testicles, you’ll be sure let me know.

And then this happened and it’s pretty legit.

We have never actually addressed the fact that Yuugi forced his friends to like him. Like it’s a pretty effed up origin story that Jounouchi was like like “I feel like very strongly I should be his friend” but doesn’t really know it’s because he got cursed. Kinda figured the show would just breeze by it, but no, here we are, and Yuugi has to face the fact that maybe the only reason he’s not a loner anymore is because he won Jounouchi as a prize for finishing an accessory.

And whether or not Jounouchi would have been his friend no matter what isn’t really what’s being tested, it’s whether or not Yuugi believes that this friendship is actually real, or a curse. Like Jounouchi did try to defend Yuugi before Yuugi finished the puzzle, but does Yuugi know that? He was passing out at the time. It’s a real insecure spot for Yuugi since before Jounouchi he was just a little punching bag playing board games alone in the homeroom. Jounouchi was introduced as someone who was legitimately bullying Yuugi and tossing that puzzle out a window. There’s going to be the underlying fear that Jounouchi would go back.

In the S1 anime, they basically wrote that plot point out of the show or decided that because this was done in Season Zero they don’t need to retread on old territory. Joey, Tristan, and Tea aren’t cursed to be Yugi’s friends, as far as I know.

But this test between the friendship of Yugi and Joey is recreated again in S2 with Marik when they were both tied to an anchor and one had to choose to kill the other or live. But there’s some pretty major differences. This time, instead of Joey being possessed by Marik and being forced to kill his friend, he’s just Jounouchi sans curse.

Although Jounouchi is still somewhat mind controlled as he is just an illusion. He’s just...not as badly mind controlled as the whole Marik thing. This Jounouchi has more motor control and doesn’t seem to have any inner conflict at all. Because again, this isn’t so much Yuugi vs Jounouchi, this is Yuugi vs Yuugi’s fear of being alone again.

That’s a realllllly different takeaway. And honestly, it’s pretty interesting.

Also, instead of Tea with a shipping container over her head, this time Anzu is walking a plank. Really didn’t expect that Shadi would basically turn into Marik but without the cards. And without the underground bunker lifestyle where he kills his own Dad.

The game is kind of hard to show in caps but they have to drop the puzzle in the direction they want the other to walk. Mostly it’s just another reason for Jounouchi to steal Yuugi’s puzzle again and relive the trauma.

Remember that time that Jounouchi tried to get Yuugi to punch him and Yuugi broke out in tears because he didn’t like violence? I mean honestly, out of everyone Yuugi knows. Jounouchi was probably the nicest bully he had. Doesn’t mean Yuugi isn’t incredibly insecure about it.

Instead of fighting back, Yuugi decides to skip his turn. It’s a contrast to the other Joey/Yugi fight because instead of just throwing a fireball in his own face until Joey snaps out of it, Yuugi has decided to rely on trust.

And, much like Grandpa’s Blue Eyed Dragon that would not perform under Kaiba’s reign to kill Yuugi, neither would Jounouchi under Shadi. They even disappear into the aether with the same smoke effect.

And what I think is the most interesting part of this is that the question of “so would they have been friends without the puzzle?” is mostly left open ended.

And if the friendship were solid as a rock, then this whole debate Yuugi has with Shadi wouldn’t even be a debate. Shadi is certain that people will betray you because they can, Yuugi is confident that, even though they do walk you to that ledge, they can change although there is a history of hurt. Shadi was convinced Yuugi couldn’t overcome his lonely past, and Yuugi had to prove that the past can’t hurt him anymore, the past being also his best friend.

Like it’s just something never mentioned in the S1-3, that Yuugi has a lot of issues because all of his friends have been his bully at one point. And like, not to get too PSA, but every friendship has to be looked at by a case by case basis. You can’t generalize and say “everyone who betrays you can change.” But the message here isn’t about keeping any relationship that is toxic, it’s about overcoming the pain of the past.

Also Jounouchi is hella cursed so he won’t be back to his old ways anytime soon.

Kind of hard to tell, but Honda got covered in a layer of white fire extinguisher juice and it’s a look that uhhhh we would never illustrate this way in 2019. Times were more innocent in the 90′s.

Just kidding, they absolutely weren’t, I have no idea who allowed Honda to be drawn this way.

Reminder that Kaiba is just sitting pretty in one of these classrooms, maybe watching Joey’s ass scrape up against the window while Honda completely covered in mysterious white stuff screams bloody mercy. As the teacher teaching this particular class ignores all of this, Kaiba would just be thinking to himself “Aw. that’s fun.”

And so ends this really long but honestly, pretty interesting episode. Season Zero has a lot of rough patches, like I’m probably not going to do every episode of it, but when it connects to what we’re watching its neat to compare and contrast the two. Kind of wish we had more of Yugi facing his past in the current anime but instead it’s Kaiba facing his past. So we...kind of get it? Just with a different character?

Shadi picks up his key and walks away unscathed. Mostly because Yuugi does not currently know how to mind-wipe. Seems that that is mostly a Pharaoh thing and as far as I can tell Yuugi is still just one person with an alternate personality.

Off he goes, that bastard.

Amazing that everyone’s pretty much on good terms with Shadi by the end of S1. Like he’s just kind of a pal that shows up and “accidentally” leads you directly to kill your own Dad when in Season Zero he is...really outwardly evil.

Anyway, that was a hellton of content haha, next week it’s back to Joey dueling a lawyer while Kaiba gets lost in the woods.

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood 26

start - part [25]

-

The giftwrapped box was fairly sizable, which was what both piqued Gavin’s curiosity and intimidated him at the same time – and when he and Tina both discovered what was inside, he’d darted to the bathroom to vomit, the first time in his life he’d experienced such a stress response. Feeling overwhelmed and full of regret, Tina took a few steps back, feeling personally appalled even though the entire ordeal was still Gavin’s to deal with— nothing prepared either of them for the RK900’s idea of a ‘gift.’

The old chassis, disassembled in pieces so it could be neatly stacked to fit in the box, the eyeless face still warped from the damage he’d done from the night of the Vicodin nestled on top for him to set sight on first thing. Flashbacks raced through his mind ever since as the night he previously had trouble remembering suddenly became so vivid it would likely never leave him again.

The fact 900 suggested he invite more people meant it intended to stage him to open the present with as many coworkers watching as potentially possible. Which would raise questions that he’d have to answer and try to explain; Tina being there was more than enough on its own, and he was grateful he’d gone through with his plans of self-isolation otherwise. The ‘present’ had given him a bad feeling from the start, but nothing could have prepared him for what he received.

Ultimately unsure of what to do with it, he stored it away in the garage, fearful of throwing it out in case anyone happened across it. The panic continued as he felt as though RK900’s presence was still there, as if haunting the remnants of the android’s expired shell, now registered in his mind as a dismembered body. Gavin reminisced how much Nines constantly insisted he be regarded to as human, and while he thought nothing of it before, he had to wonder if that was an intentional part of the programming or not. Androids wanting to be people apparently wasn’t so complicated as everyone thought if Cyberlife managed to solve the big mystery, but it did nothing for the constant cases of violence from their general population.

Gavin wound up appreciating the week off as there was no way for him to work in such a condition, but the lack of anything to focus on was maddening. He wanted to throw the chassis into a big, smoldering fire piece by piece, but the smell of burning plastic would be terrible and if there was any remaining liquid thirium, burning it would likely toxify the air. Plus, it wouldn’t do any favors for his mental wellness; he’d regretted throwing away the medication, eventually wondering if going back to the psychiatrist would be a good idea, but they always wanted to talk, and he couldn’t exactly explain the situation for what it was.

He hadn’t gone three days without sleep since before the android regulated his schedule, a thought that drifted through his mind absently as thinking clearly became difficult. Laying on the couch with the TV on became his favorite place to be, even if he didn’t pay attention to what was on the screen; it helped to have voices in the background as the silence was maddening. The house was too large and empty, so once he’d found himself in a place he could concentrate, he wanted to make a few orders for furniture, staring long and hard at the debit card in his possession with his name embossed on the front in glinting silver letters. By now, he wasn’t entirely sure what the actual balance was, deciding to check before he made any purchases.

He was greeted with yet another automated voice informing him of his balance, and it took him a moment to register the words as the specific amount; $900,900.00. Once he got through the math and understood the actual total of money in his possession, he dropped the phone in a moment of surprise, hands starting to shake all over again while he looked around, searching for the android. It had to be there, he had to be waiting nearby, expecting him to do something wrong, or waiting to correct his speech, his posture, anything—but the house was dark and quiet as always. Gritting his teeth, Gavin sat up, pulling himself from the couch and turning off the tv, clicking the stereo on instead and walking to the kitchen, feeling a bit more energized from the rock playing in the background. Rummaging the nicely organized cupboards, he pulled out cookware to put pasta on for dinner, finding fresh meat in the fridge and opening the package to put it on a pan. Remembering to set the heat to medium, he left it to simmer, pulling open a kitchen drawer to pull out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and leaning back against the counter. Taking in a long, deep drag, he tried to collect his nerves and focus on what he wanted for the house, instead.

Fetching his tablet, he glanced through catalogs, his tight-budgeting nature reminding him to stay in an affordable range, before realizing he didn’t know what that was as he’d never bought furniture before. Deciding a $500 coffee table was too much, he frowned, swiping the tablet locked and setting it on the counter before snubbing his cigarette out in one of the gold-rimmed ashtrays that matched the marble on the counters, an intentional accent he’d coyly added once the android was gone – yet he still hid away his cigarettes, as if waiting on the scolding for smoking in the first place.

-

‘So...the box,’ Tina finally brought up to him after two weeks of avoiding contact; within reason, he'd imagine, surprised when he even saw her name light up on the phone screen.

‘Is it just the parts? Or is the 900 in there, too?’ Gavin was struck silent as he considered the question.

"That chassis doesn't work anymore. Having any memory in it would be useless."

‘Then why give it to you?’ Her voice was hesitant; she knew she was stepping into business that really wasn't hers, with a situation that could potentially end dangerously for her as well, but whatever Gavin's story was, it was sure better than her beat cop dayjob.

"It's a scare tactic. That's what that thing fed off of, like it was it's life force or something," he muttered.

"Just, forget about the fuckin' android, alright? I'm trying hard enough to get it out'f my head, and having its dead body around isn't doin’ any favors." There was a moment of silence as she recognized the slur in his voice, sighing.

‘You should get some rest. For real. Alcohol and caffeine isn’t a healthy combination.’

“The worst thing for my health was that son of a bitch excuse for an android. Alcohol’s a walk in the park compared to getting branded with a knife.” He didn’t have to see her to imagine the way she winced.

‘Goodnight, Gavin.’

-

There was blue blood dripping from the ceiling, down the walls, and the thirium pump he’d shot straight through split apart across his visage, bright blue and spilling the strange chemical liquid anywhere within reach. The strange flickering of the color always unnerved him, and there was no escape from his own subconscious twisting the visage of the android into something worse than the bloody, mangled corpse it already was.

RK900’s eyes stared at him, but they were hollow from the blade he’d ran straight through them the night of the ‘attack’. The sound of mechanical parts shifting and the obnoxious clicking from mismatched pieces grinding together agitated his ears repeatedly in a way that echoed, a way he couldn’t escape. In the scenario of his own mind, there was nothing but him and RK900, just as it often had been in real life; but the entity seemed to surround him, shroud him in the sinking sensation of fear, the overwhelming terror that made him want to run away so many times when he couldn’t escape, even when he’d scrambled across the state only for the android to track him down and fetch him anyway. Memories of the scarring reversed in the mirror, the deep, bloody lashes across his back, of the way it spoke to him day in and out, the sting marks in his side from the taser – everything from the two months plus, an amount of time that didn’t seem substantial on its own but seemed so many eons long in his head.

It was as though it had never left, the way its presence ricocheted in his mind, how he saw it in the corner of his eyes and heard it calling for his name, or snapping and pointing, or treading nigh on silently through the house to ensure everything was precisely as it wanted. At this rate, he couldn’t tell if giving it more humanity than it was worth was more or less embarrassing on his behalf; either way, the evidence was in his garage and he had no idea what was going on at the DPD right now, let alone what anyone thought of him or how much they knew of the situation. Reputation never mattered much to Gavin as long as he could get his job finished, but now everything seemed to revolve around the relationship between himself and the android. No one in the precinct was shy to gossip during a lull in work hours, and it was evidently substantial enough to make more of an impact than he ever meant for it to. With his multiple attempts to get rid of the android, it managed to find out and discipline him in a manner that was somehow harsher than the last. Now that it was finally gone, after all his efforts to rid of the thing to no avail yet taken away because Cyberlife said so, the surreality of the situation continued to resonate within his head.

Shooting practice waited until the wounds in his back had healed and he could properly aim without shaking. Sometimes the liquor helped, sometimes it made everything worse. By the time he was back to work, the comfort of habit and repetition took place in lieu of being ordered around. The unfamiliarity of going home and not seeing it waiting there, expectant, demanding, and seeing the new house and often getting lost trying to wander through his own home took a few weeks to nullify. For a while, he wondered how an android was able to work through all the paperwork, but was only assured of exactly how powerful Cyberlife really was. For the most part, no one batted an eye otherwise.

-

“You’re pourin’ an eye-opener at work? Even I ain’t done that in years.” Hank’s voice held humor, masking the actual concern.

“I get the work done, right? Pretty sure that’s something you said once,” Gavin retorted without missing a beat. Hank stared at him with eyes that made him uncomfortable, folding his arms and looking away.

“How much are you drinkin’ a night?”

“Ah, so now the alcoholic’s gonna lecture me on my drinking habit?” Hank rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve done it long enough, I know. But this is new for you.”

“I dunno, a pint? Two if I can’t sleep,” he groused, unsure of why he was speaking up in the first place. Still, Hank took the confession for what it was worth, and how much this entire ordeal must have impacted his coworker. Hank had seen Gavin on the team for a handful of his years on the force, and he’d been in and out of his own nastiness, but he’d never seen him quite like this. That was a heavy tolerance in a short amount of time, was his initial thought, but saying out loud would do nothing but underline how grave the situation was. Knowing he wasn’t in the position to help Gavin, Hank decided it was time to let go of the association, hoping Gavin could do the same in favor of the android.

“Connor’s drilled the effects of ethanol alcohol on the liver enough times I could recite it to ya in my sleep, but I won’t. Catch me at Jimmy’s bar after ten.” He wanted to say no androids allowed as a matter of comfort, but Connor had rather easily broken that rule the night they met. Wondering if Connor would show up nonetheless, Gavin thought over the day he’d apologized to him; another demand by the 900, and the same went for anyone else he’d supposedly ‘wronged’. The discipline from the android was evident in the way Gavin kept his posture straight and vocabulary precise with a voice that was loud and clear, aspects striking enough they remained difficult for his peers to dismiss.

-

There was no way the machine could be awake, but ever since Tina mentioned the possibility, he couldn’t get the idea out of his psyche and he could have sworn he heard gears turning in his garage, again and again as each night went by. The same mechanized voice speaking warnings he’d heard over and over – whether it was because 900 had said them many times before or he’d merely replayed them so many times in his head was often left to debate when it was late and dark, caffeine and liquor scribbling his vision.

He could hear the hours ticking by in his head even though he’d trashed all the clocks weeks ago. Its demanding voice and vicious, hungry glare never left his mind’s eye. Every command, retort, insult, statement, suggestion, theory, summary, calculation, analysis—any and all verbal remarks from the android that he’d wanted to ignore were now impossible to bury, scrambling through his psyche like TV static, hissing and scratching at every train of thought that otherwise filled his head. The echoing voice that was lower and more monotone than Connor’s echoed with warped pitches and distant enunciations on consonants, as it always spoke pointedly around its own speech in such a way that intentionally wriggled its way into his memory so that he’d never forget.

[caffeine-catastrophe]

Go the Distance! CH. 2!

click here for chapter one!

A/N: Thank you so much for such a positive response to the first chapter! It made my day to see all the reviews. Please keep them up :) There were a few questions about what a grant is, and some confusion over the general plot of this story, so I will do my best to give y'all some context. The rest will be revealed later on in the story, I promise.

A grant is defined as "a sum of money given by a government or other organization for a particular purpose. ie: a research grant". The one mentioned in this story is being offered for the sole purpose of giving young people a chance to pursue their dreams and aspirations, without having to kill themselves working three jobs like the rest of us do in real life.

Some other things: the gang is about the same age, a year or two out of high school (in my mind, L is 19 - coincidentally the legal drinking age where I live - N is 20, and G and E are 21 ish). None of them are in college at the moment, because student loans mean interest and none of them really want to (or are able to) deal with the future repercussions of that. Their individual career paths and aspirations will be discussed further into the story.

I hope you like the second chapter! The next one is already done, so I'm going to finish the one after that before I publish it!

Go the Distance

Three days, four million dollars, and a cross-country road trip that will change their lives for good. OR: The Dreyar Grant for Brighter Futures is a prestigious scholarship granted to only the most deserving of candidates, but even miracles don't come without a price.

---

... And a thousand years would be worth the wait It might take a lifetime, but somehow I'll see it through...

"Thank you all for coming," Ms. Strauss begins cheerfully, seating herself at one end of the large conference table situated in the centre of the room. She gestures for the four trailing awkwardly behind her to take a seat on either side of her. Lucy finds it increasingly hard to concentrate as Ms. Strauss begins to brief them on the legalities of the grant. She hands her the envelope containing her high school transcript and photocopied version of her passport, and watches in a zombified stupor as the others do the same. "I'll send these to HQ in Crocus to double check your eligibility, but for now I'm going to assume you're all wonderful people and take your word for it," Mirajane continues in a humoured tone that does nothing to relieve the tension in the air.

"Now tell me, what do you four know about Mr. Dreyar?" Ms. Strauss asks. "I assume you all did your research," she continues, raising an amused eyebrow. Lucy can't help but think this is some kind of test. She exchanges a quick glance with the rest of her companions, each shifting uneasily in their seats. Erza seems to have disappeared into her hair again; even Natsu is looking a little bit less confident about 'having this'. Lucy waits for one of the other three to speak up, before looking nervously back at Ms. Strauss, who – Lucy notices with a jolt – is looking directly at her.

"Ms. Heartfilia? You seem like you might have something to say," Ms. Strauss says with an encouraging smile. Lucy bites her lip. She always was terrible at public speaking. You're a high school graduate with a theatre diploma and English honours, Lucy. Get it together.

"Mr. Dreyar is a so-called legendary business mogul worth approximately 64 billion dollars," Lucy begins slowly, glancing quickly at Ms. Strauss for confirmation. The woman gives her a small smile and Lucy continues, "He was an Ivy League student that originally wanted to be in law, but after a few years of schooling he had a change of heart. He dropped out to pursue a degree in business, and by the time he graduated he had sold two successful companies and had a net worth of 1.2 million dollars."

"Very good, Lucy," Ms. Strauss says, smiling. "Anyone else?" She looks over at Gray, who clears his throat reluctantly. "He never married but has taken in many apprentices over the years and treats them like they are his blood. He acts like a sponsor to ensure they become successful, and then takes a small percentage of their annual income once a year until he has been paid back."

"Not only that, but now that all of his so-called children have grown up and are able to stand on their own, rumour has it that he's looking for a new group of young people to mentor," Natsu jumps in enthusiastically, nudging Erza beside him, who rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"Rumour has it, that's us," she finishes quietly in a voice that's tinged with equal parts exasperation and excitement.

"Rumour has it, indeed," Ms. Strauss responds vaguely, eyes roving over the group in what almost seems like approval. "Now, on to business," she says abruptly, disturbing the air of quiet anticipation that has settled over the four young adults. "Mr. Dreyar, while a brilliant man, can be quite… eccentric. Rather than handing the grant over to you at this moment, he has insisted that the four of you join him in Crocus in three days' time so that he can assess your eligibility in person. This means the four of you will have to acquire your own methods of transportation and lodging, should you choose not to travel there via aeroplane. Hotel rooms will be provided for you once you arrive, of course. He has written you into his schedule this Thursday at noon. Any questions?"

When Ms. Strauss finishes speaking, the only sounds in the room are the quiet ticking of an analog clock by the door and the muffled din of traffic outside.

---

The group is silent as they file out of the room en route to the elevators. They stand awkwardly as they wait for the car, each lost in thought. Erza is tugging on her hair again while Gray and Natsu furrow their brows in the same tense expression, which Lucy might've found amusing if she didn't also find herself so unbelievably screwed. No one says a word until the elevator doors open with a soft ding and close behind them with another muffled thump.

"So, we're pretty much screwed," Natsu echoes Lucy's thoughts, ever the spokesperson. "Flying expensive, and I don't know about you guys, but the reason I applied for this scholarship is that I couldn't afford to splurge on a plane ticket if I wanted to."

"Yup," Gray lets out stiffly, exchanging a loaded glance with Erza that Lucy can't quite decipher.

"However," Natsu continues, "I've driven down to Crocus a few times for soccer games in the past, and I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind us borrowing his van since there's a chance we'd be coming back with a total of four million freaking dollars." He sends a silly look in Lucy's direction, reflected in the polished gold of the elevator still counting down from 14, and she lets out a tense laugh. She takes a deep breath, feeling the tension of the group lift for a brief moment. "If you guys are okay with chipping in for gas money and splitting the cost of a few nights in a hotel, we could spend the next few days driving down to Crocus in time for the meeting," Natsu suggests, raising his eyebrows at the other three expectantly. There's a pause, and then Gray breathes a sigh of relief.

"I mean, that's actually a pretty good idea. I've got my license too, so I could take turns driving if you'd like," Gray offers.

"Same here," Lucy chimes in, and Erza nods in agreement.

"Does that mean you're in?" Natsu asks eagerly, turning to Lucy, who turns to Erza. The two exchange a look, raising hesitant eyebrows as if to reassure each other that going on a spontaneous road trip with two strange guys won't end with getting themselves killed. Girls need to stick together, after all. Then again, Lucy's been through worse and while Erza may look demure, she also seems like the type of person to kill someone in their sleep. Lucy sets her jaw determinedly and gives Erza a little wink. The other girl smiles nervously in response. The world spins a little as the elevator settles, and when the doors finally open with another soft ding, Lucy turns back to Natsu with a grin.

"We're in."

---

"This one's a little more out of the way, but it's a lot cheaper," Gray suggests an hour later. The group of four have made their way over to a café down the block in order to iron out their plans for the weekend. Lucky for them, Natsu had his laptop in his dad's car that's parked across the street, and they've all crowded around the small table in the corner of the shop, each trying to get a better look at the screen.

"Is it going to be safe, though?" Lucy asks concernedly from behind him. "Family-owned inns usually have lower budget security systems, if you know what I mean."

"Nah, it looks fine," Natsu reassures her, reaching over Erza's plate of strawberry shortcake to pull the laptop closer to him. "It's got a ton of reviews, and all of them say it's clean and relatively safe, see?" he says, pulling it up on the screen for her to check.

"We'll go with that one in Acalypha, then," Erza says resolutely, jotting down the phone number and address in the little notebook Lucy had stashed in her purse at the meeting.

"I can call them later tonight when I call the place in Hargeon to book the rooms," Gray suggests, taking a picture of the page with his phone.

"We did it!" Lucy cheers, flipping back to add it to the PowerPoint Natsu and Gray insisted they create in honour of their 'Road Trip'. Boys. "Looks like we've got it all sorted out then! Where and when do you guys want to meet tomorrow?" she asks, leaning back and nudging the laptop closer to Natsu, who's straining to get a better look over Gray's head.

"I can pick everyone up in the morning," Natsu offers, grinning at her in thanks, and her heart stutters at the easy way he leans across her lap to save the document and shut down his laptop.

"Around 10, then?" Erza suggests, chewing savagely as she stuffs the rest of cake in her mouth. Lucy is kind of surprised at how passionate Erza is about dessert. Never mind how gentle she usually is, she nearly tore off Gray's arm when he came close to knocking it off the table while scuffling with Natsu over the PowerPoint font.

The group confirms the time, each pulling out their phones to add each other on social media. The boys create a group chat with a reminder for their plan tomorrow, aptly naming it 'The Four Million Dollar Road Trip'. Erza and Gray live in the same direction, so they quickly gather their things and head to the train together, casting apprehensive glances at the overcast sky. Apparently, Gray is a last-minute packer and Erza admits to being that chick that brings four suitcases in the name of being 'prepared'. They need all the time they can get.

Natsu and Lucy, on the other hand, take their time packing up. Lucy is organized to a fault and Natsu doesn't seem to be too concerned about getting home right away, so they fill the café with their chatter until they forget that the sunshine surrounding them isn't coming in through the window. When it starts to get dark outside, the conversation turns to their homes and families. They are surprised to discover that they live in the same neighbourhood; his building is just down the block from hers. She learns his sister Wendy takes dance classes and sings off-key in the shower, and in turn she tells him all about her golden retriever, Plue, who used to follow her to school every day in the third grade.

By the time they are ready to leave, the rain has started and the lightning makes the sky look like it may have cracked open in the downpour. And if Natsu is pleased to hear that Lucy has forgotten her umbrella and may need to join him for the car ride home, well, he doesn't say a thing.

---

I based Makarov's backstory on Mark Zuckerberg lmao. He's a controversial person, for sure, but useful when it comes to needing rich entrepreneur character backgrounds.

Comments? Questions? Reactions? Drop me a review!

See y'all soon!

[antoine-roquentin]

One of the pretenses of right-wing energy policy is that conservatives support a “level playing field,” upon which energy sources can compete without subsidies. Let the market decide!

As I have written many times, this is a juvenile notion. Markets are powerful tools for directing private capital and innovation, useful in the right circumstances. But the idea that there ever has been, or ever can be, an open, unbiased, “free” market for energy sources is a fantasy that should stay in the college library with the Ayn Rand novels. It is analytically inert; it does nothing to illuminate whether current markets are working or help us decide how best to use markets to serve our greater goals.

The fundamental reason the “free market” ideal is unhelpful in energy is that it’s impossible to ever truly settle what is and isn’t a market-distorting subsidy. Some subsidies, like explicit cash grants or tax breaks, are easy enough to identify, but beyond that there is a whole complex world of implicit subsidies.

If an energy source has negative impacts that are not incorporated in its market price (negative “externalities,” in the jargon), that means other people are paying for those impacts. The source is implicitly subsidized.

Here’s the thing: Every energy source and energy industry has both positive and negative externalities. Deciding which ones “distort markets,” which ones count as implicit subsidies (or implicit taxes) virtually always comes down to a subjective judgment.

And the implicit subsidies dwarf the explicit subsidies, so arguing about the latter while unable to agree on the former is uniquely pointless.

In practice, most political disputes over subsidies just end up obscuring values-based arguments about what kind of future we want behind a veil of pseudo-objective economic jargon. One’s own favored energy sources receive commonsense support; the other side’s energy sources are on corporate welfare. And so it goes.

This week brought an excellent example, in the form of a new paper from Securing America’s Future Energy (SAFE), a clean-energy advocacy group composed of retired military and business leaders. It attempts to put a number on one of the great, neglected implicit subsidies for oil: the costs to the US military of defending oil supplies, everything from guarding shipping lanes to maintaining troop commitments in key oil-producing nations.

The number, it turns out, is high: $81 billion a year at the low end, which is almost certainly conservative.

But is that a subsidy for oil? It is certainly one way oil dependence has shaped the country, its history, and its institutions — one of countless ways — but does putting a dollar figure on it and calling it a “market distortion” clarify anything or convince anyone?

We will ponder those questions in a moment, but first, a quick look at the study.

Given that almost any military procurement or deployment has multiple, overlapping objectives, it is obviously difficult to pick out exactly which ones are devoted to protecting oil supplies. Consequently, the methodology for a study like this is going to be full of assumptions and judgment calls. But SAFE did its best to stay reasonably conservative.

Its research surveyed the literature on the costs of defending oil supplies, eliminated some of the extreme estimates on the high and low ends, settled on six core studies, and then updated the numbers in those studies based on current DOD costs. The idea was to get at least a rough sense of how much the US military currently spends guarding oil.

That’s how SAFE developed the $81-billion-a-year estimate, which represents 16 percent of DOD’s base annual budget. “Spread out over the 19.8 million barrels of oil consumed daily in the U.S. in 2017,” SAFE writes, “the implicit subsidy for all petroleum consumers is approximately $11.25 per barrel of crude oil, or $0.28 per gallon of transportation fuel.”

That’s a lot! But it’s almost certainly too low.

One conservative move in the analysis was to exclude DOD’s Overseas Contingency Operations (OCO) budget, which basically covers the incremental costs, over and above the base DOD budget, of the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars. By excluding OCO, SAFE does not count those wars among the costs of defending oil.

Some of the retired military leaders it interviewed questioned that assumption.

“I would make the case that the OCO spending is related to oil protection,” said former Secretary of the Navy John Lehman. “More than half the Defense budget is for the security of Persian Gulf oil.” His comments were echoed by numerous other ex-military officials.

If the OCO costs, or some portion of them, are included in the tally, the subsidy number obviously rises, “to over $13 per barrel or $0.31 per gallon.”

And that’s still only direct military costs, which are just one piece of the puzzle. The economists Linda Bilmes and Joseph Stiglitz have done extraordinary work attempting to tally up the full costs of the wars, including higher oil prices, debt service, obligations to returning veterans, lost wages, lost lives, and much else. They estimated the total at somewhere between $4 and $6 trillion.

If you take the midpoint estimate of $5 trillion, “a conservative estimate of the per gallon cost for these wars easily exceeds $30 per barrel (over $0.70 per gallon) over a 20-year period.” And that’s separate from the other $0.28 per gallon SAFE calculated from DOD’s base annual budget.

Add all that up, and it’s close to a $1 subsidy for a gallon of gas. That roughly translates to a subsidy of $100 per ton of carbon dioxide emissions. That’s a lot to pay to destroy the atmosphere!

Now, of course, people of good faith can disagree about the right estimate, whether $81 billion or something higher. Like I said, there are plenty of judgment calls about what to include in the tally.

But no one can justify the current practice of US government agencies, which is to put the cost of defending global oil supplies at zero dollars.

Yes, zero. When assessing policies meant to reduce oil consumption, agencies give no weight at all to the benefits of reduced military spending. SAFE puts it this way, in its striking opening sentence: “According to the calculations of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), the cost to the United States of defending the global oil supply is zero.”

Why do they do this? It has to do with the way DOD is budgeted. To make a long story short, the assumption is that if the money wasn’t spent defending oil, it would go to some other military objective. DOD budgets would not decline, and thus there would be no savings to taxpayers. Thus: $0.

Obviously that’s silly. Just because the money would be budgeted to something else doesn’t mean it’s imaginary. The whole point is that reducing reliance on oil would free up that money to do other things.

“If we can reduce our dependence on oil, we could reduce our presence in the Gulf and use the funds for other critical military priorities, like cybersecurity or hypersonic weapons,” said General Duncan McNabb, former commander of the US Transportation Command. “We would make different choices that would make us safer and more secure.”

These are the perpetually overlooked “opportunity costs” of oil — all the other stuff we could be doing if we weren’t hunched over the globe, guarding our black gold.

Federal agencies shouldn’t ignore those costs. Policies that reduce oil dependence should be credited in some way for also reducing the costs of oil protection. In that sense, it very much makes sense to frame oil-protection costs as subsidies for oil.

The language of “subsidies” often obscures an essentially moral argument

But I wonder whether the language of “subsidies” is really the right way to understand what’s going on here. (I have no idea if it’s effective messaging that can sway policymakers or the public; maybe so! That’s a separate question.)

We defend oil because we depend on it, and so does everybody else. It’s the lifeblood of the global economy; controlling it makes us powerful. As Vice President Dick Cheney said in 2004: “Oil is unique in that it is so strategic in nature. We are not talking about soapflakes or leisurewear here. Energy is truly fundamental to the world’s economy. The Gulf War was a reflection of that reality.”

Everything is a reflection of that reality. Because oil is fundamental to our economy and our ability to project power, it shapes our foreign policy in myriad direct and indirect ways. Securing oil supply is not always the proximate or primary cause of what we do — it’s too simple to say we “fought wars for oil” — but it always sets the conditions and limits of our engagement. It’s always a baseline. We simply cannot afford to do things that might seriously threaten our control over the energy that runs our economy and our military.

You can draw a line around some part of that geopolitical and military maneuvering and call it a “subsidy” — for oil producers? for oil consumers? for the military itself? — but where you draw that line will always come down to subjective judgment. Oil powers everything, so everything is, in some way or another, about oil.

To call this maintenance of global status a “subsidy” is to translate the language of security, power, and moral tradeoffs into the language of economics. But does that help us understand it any better? Does it convince anyone?

People these days seem to think the language of economics has a kind of magical power, as though money, in the end, is all people really care about — as though all other concerns must be translated to dollar values to have any weight.

I’m skeptical about that. (I think it has more to do with the outsized influence of economics on American elites than it does with real-world sociology.) I can’t imagine anyone who currently supports the fossil fuel-based global order being convinced to oppose it by the realization that it knocks the equivalent $1.74 off their monthly paycheck.

People come to their political opinions based on stories and narratives, based on identity affiliation and sorting, not based on nickel-and-dime calculations regarding their own household budgets. We are social creatures, not the calculating self-interest maximizers of economic lore.

If I wanted to convince someone that US oil dependence is bad, I wouldn’t focus first, or at all, on the few cents it adds to their daily expenses. I would begin with a moral argument.

To wit: The world’s countries have long been trapped in a corrupt struggle for finite resources that has carried untold colonialist oppression and ecological ruin in its wake. Oil has sullied everything it touches, very much including the US government. It has led us to ally with evil regimes, to empower autocrats, to bully vulnerable populations, to start unjust and pointless wars, to foul our land, water, and air, and to bloat the size of our military beyond all reason — all while we neglect the needs of US citizens at home.

Perhaps at one time it could have been argued that the benefits outweigh the costs. But climate change has settled that argument, as has the plunging cost of energy alternatives. We now understand that the costs oil dependence are potentially existential and that the costs of freeing ourselves from oil are manageable.

i like how this article begins to grapple with the notion that military control over oil is how america maintains a global empire, but backs off before it realizes that all this military spending is really a net surplus for america because it ensures the dollar is the global currency sovereign, thus america can just print whatever it needs to buy whatever it want because other countries are obligated to get their hands on it to buy and sell goods on the international market.

[justanotherprowrestlingblog]

All In Review: (September 1st, from The Sears Center in Chicago) SCU vs The Briscoes: [***1/2] We start off Zero Hour with a bang because it was really a great match and to be fair I wasn't even expecting it to be this good. They had a good amount of time, good chemistry, solid storytelling, crowd was super behind the SCU guys and they nailed some big spots like the finish, where the ROH Tag team champions went for the doomsday device and Kazarian countered into an insane scoop power slam for the win, which will set them possibly as the next challengers at Death Before Dishonor. Really cool way to hype the crowd..S C U ! Winners: Frankie Kazarian and Scorpio Sky Over budget battle royale: [***1/2] Maybe I'm overreacting but for me it was the most fun battle royal(e) I have ever seen. Everyone had its spot, it was fun, some good moments (Cage and Grace squaring off was nuts) to hype the crowd and the ending a lot of us wanted: Bully Ray thought he won but then Flip Gordon revealed himself to be the "son" of el Chico and eliminated Bully Ray causing a loud pop from the crowd. Great way to get Flip into all in and great storyline. Well done everyone. ps: Dear Impact wrestling, can you please book Brian Cage vs Jordayne Grace for the X Division title at BFG? Winner: Flip Gordon MJF vs Matt Cross:[**1/2] A good opener to give Matt Cross, who you may know as Son Of Havoc in Lucha Underground, a deserved win at the show. Nothing more to add Winner: Matt Cross Christopher Daniels vs Stephen Amell:[***] I have to be honest: I wasn't expecting a good match out of this one but it was really surprising for me, considering that Amell is an actor and managed to perform in a such a good way. Yeah Amell isn't a wrestler, but he has some guts and looked better than people who make wrestling their living, so I can't say anything bad about him. The most surprising thing tho is that he actually lost, which for me it was a shocker because i would have been some money on Arrow to win this match. Great night for SCU in Chicago( let's not forget that that was the worst town they have ever been in) Winner: Christopher Daniels Tessa Blanchard vs Madison Rayne vs Chelsea Green vs Britt Baker: [***1/4] And even the ladies killed it,because they had a really great match and the crowd exploding with this is awesome chants and a big standing ovation mid match was a great moment. They all shined, but one of them came out huge and she is the winner of the match: Tessa Blanchard. The actual impact women's champions legit looked like a star and she is definitely the future of women wrestling, because let's not forget she is still 23 and she has already done some big stuff. The match itself was fun,fast, enjoyable but at times a little sloppy and I'm not sure if they botched or not the ending, but it was still a really good bout. Kudos to them for being apart of history. ps: Britt coming out with the old ROH theme song of his boyfriend Adam Cole made me mark out. Winner: Tessa Blanchard NWA World Heavyweight Championship: Cody vs Nick Aldis[***] It was easily the best build match of the even and it turned out to be ok, even tho with some overbooking and probably not the best of finish, but just the final moments are worth the match alone: just watch the reaction after Cody won, the loud pop and the commentary going all silent for a few minutes. Goosebumps. It's great to see the NWA gaining so much buzz thanks to Cody and All in. It will be interesting now to see which are the plans for the title now that they have a champ with huge fan following and star power. Winner AND NEW NWA World Heavyweight Champion: Cody Chicago Street Fight: Joey Janela vs Hangman Page:[***3/4] Even with this match I have to be honest: I wasn't even expecting this one to be this good. They killed and put on a great match even with some funny moments that we saw on BTE and it had some really cool spots, like the powerbomb Janela took from the ramp on the table and the rite of passage from the ladder on the table who gave Page the win. Page keeps improving every match he makes and he deserves some gold...but what even more golden, was the post match, as we saw the "res-erection" of Joey Ryan with the help of the penis-Druids. That post match was easily one of the funniest moments I have ever seen in wrestling since I started following this form of art/entertainment/whatever you call it. Kudos to everyone involved Winner: Hangman Page ROH world heavyweight Championship: Jay Lethal vs Flip Gordon: [***1/4] This one was another really solid and in some moments also funny match, as they really well managed to build the storyline of Lethal going back to his black machismo roots during BTE and the match. Flip did his best to win, even going full hulk hogan(without racial slurs) but it wasn't enough to beat Lethal who caught him with a top rope cutter followed by his Lethal Injection. It could have been a great moment for Flip to win the title at All In, judging by the storyline he was involved in, but I guess ROH isn't really to have him as their heavyweight champion...but hey flip got some retribution of Bully tho in the post match thanks to Lethal, cabana and a table Winner AND STILL ROH World Heavyweight Champion: Jay Lethal Pentagon Jr vs Kenny Omega:[****1/2] I had a lot of hype for this match. Really a lot of hype and they didn't failed to deliver. Simply a wonderful match between two of the best wrestlers in the world. Great wrestling and storytelling as I loved that they booked to elevate Kenny's finisher, because he only needed to hit just 1 One winged Angel to defeat Pentagon, while he kicked out of the Mexican's finishers. The result was very predictable because new Japan wouldn't let Omega lose tonight since he is their champ, but at one time, I felt Pentagon could beat the IWGP champion. Post match we had a surprise as Jericho, dressed as Pentagon, attacked Omega before their big Bullet club vs Alpha Club match at the cruise of Jericho. If you want to check out just one match of All in, this one is the perfect for you. Winner: Pentagon Jr Marty Scurll vs Kazuchika Okada:[***] If I could talk about a match I was hoping to steal the show, but turned out to be a bit disappointing, it could be this match. Don't get me wrong, this match was good but not as good as I wanted it to be or as it could have been. Even tho the crowd loved it, I felt the match went too long and it is actually true, as this match was supposed to last 12 minutes less, and this match and another one going to long, had some consequences on the main event. Also I felt that Okada and Scurll don't have a great chemistry and they could have done a lot more. Okada won as expected because in Japan, a heavyweight wouldn't never lose a match with a junior and unfortunately for Scurll, he is a junior in Japan. Also I bet NJPW, even without the weight stuff, they would never let Scurll beat their golden boy Winner: Kazuchika Okada The Golden Elite vs Rey Mysterio, Fenix and Bandido:[***1/2] As I said in the previous match, two matches going longer had some consequences on this match as this bout was severely rushed to make sure the should could end in time. 12 minutes spot fest PWG style who was really fun to watch and had some super cool spots, but not much storytelling, but it is fine since the wrestler involved fit more a certain wrestling style. Bucks and Ibushi going over is the right call but the ending was super rushed because they were short on time which really sucks because it was planned to last 28 minutes instead of 12. A good main to close a superb show Winners: The Golden Elite Overall: so let's start with the negatives: the order of the matches for me, but it's not really a big negative at all. But the rest was great: cool wrestling, cool moments, 5 hours that felt good to watch and not boring at all. It is clear that when a promoter knows what his audience wants to see and lets his talent perform at their best, it easy to get a great show like this one. And also, there is not only WWE around, not only WWE can draw 10k people, there are a lot of alternatives and the more alternatives the better. It was a great night not just for Cody and the bucks but also Pro wrestling in general [8.5]

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: What Comes After (5/?)

Summary: Dead Like Me AU. After Belle French loses her life in an accident, she finds out that she has been recruited to join the ranks of the Grim Reapers, helping souls pass on. It’s a huge upheaval to deal with, but her fellow reapers are there to help her out, especially head reaper Gold.

Who says you can’t find love after life?

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [AO3]

What Comes After

Five

Having spent the day in Granny’s scouring all the job adverts in the newspapers and drinking more hot chocolate than was probably healthy, Belle had fallen into something of a daydream and was people watching, wondering how many of the other patrons of the diner were reapers from other divisions, and how many would be meeting their post-it appointment later in the day.

She shivered at the thought and pushed it to the back of her mind, looking pointedly back down at the ads she had circled, tapping a finger against one of them. One of the florists in town was looking for a delivery driver. It wasn’t her father’s, she knew better than to get involved with anything to do with her old life and she didn’t know what Moe might say if the woman from the housing agency who’d ostensibly broken into his dead daughter’s apartment suddenly turned up on his doorstep looking for a job.

All the same, floristry was a small business and all the shop-owners tended to know each other, and it would be likely that she would meet Moe at some point during her time there. She crossed through the ad and was about to move onto the next one when someone slid into the booth opposite her. It was Graham.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “Getting used to all the ins and outs of reaper life?”

Belle nodded slowly. “I think so. Thanks for getting me somewhere to stay, by the way.” She looked down at the paper again. “Now I just need to find something to let me pay rent on it.”

“Something will turn up,” Graham said cheerfully. “But speaking of a place to stay, that’s the real reason I came over here. Dorothy’s just come off her shift, so I’ll take you over to have a look around the place now if you like.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Dorothy Gale was a no-nonsense emergency department nurse and although her manner was somewhat direct, Belle thought that they would get on all right together as roommates. As Gold had said, it was unlikely that their paths would cross much during the day, and if Belle could get herself a job soon, then even better. Moving in took no time at all, and once more, Belle was struck by just how much of her old life she had lost. All she had was a suitcase full of clothes, none of her photos of her family, or her trinkets, or any of her prized books.

She was going to have to start from scratch again and rebuild her life over. She supposed that there were some advantages to that. She could start new hobbies, reinvent herself completely if she wanted, but at that moment, staring at the blank walls in her new room, Belle really didn’t want that. She wanted all her old things back.

Belle wasn’t sure what it was that brought her meandering through the town towards Gold’s shop. Maybe it was just the desire to have something, anything, that could make the place her own, and something unique from the antique shop would certainly fit the bill.

It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to spend some time with Gold. She wanted to ask his advice, a new recruit looking for mentoring from their nominate boss. It was a purely professional interest, that was all.

All the same, she was rather disappointed when she arrived at the shop to find the door locked and a sign in Gold’s spidery writing informing her that he’d be back in five minutes. She supposed that he had gone out to a reap, so she sat down on the steps to wait, getting out the paper again. Pizza delivery was looking increasingly like the best option, and she sighed. She really was starting from scratch again.

“Hello there.”

Belle looked up to see Gold watching her with an amused expression, and she scrabbled to her feet, trying to look like she had not just been sitting on his doorstep resembling a lost sheep.

“Hi.”

“Did today’s adventures with Mulan go well?” Gold asked as he unlocked the door.

“Yes, no problems. W. Gibson went quietly, and I’ve moved into my new place with Graham’s colleague.”

“Things seem to be moving on quite nicely then,” Gold said. “So, what brings you to my shop?”

“Oh, you know. Just browsing.”

Gold quirked an eyebrow as they entered the shop, but he didn’t say anything, just moving around behind the counter and hooking his cane over it. Belle was itching to ask him about it, thinking about her conversation with Mulan the previous evening about all the perks and limitations of the undead body, but when it came down to it, she barely knew the man and it wouldn’t be polite to be asking such personal questions so soon.

She turned her attention to the trinkets and nick-nacks that lined the walls and shelves, not really taking any of it in, her mind miles away.

“Mulan says you’ve been dead for over a hundred years,” she said eventually, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen in the shop.

“I have. I died in 1916.”

Right in the middle of the First World War. Belle could hazard a guess at how he died, but she knew better than to ask.

They fell into silence again as Belle continued to look at all the items in the shop, but it was a companionable quiet, and Belle didn’t feel as much awkwardness as perhaps she might have done in any other circumstances. There really wasn’t anything better than dying for putting things into perspective.

Her eyes alighted on a tea set in a display cabinet, at a markedly lower price than some of the other things in the place but still out of her budget range, and she looked at the delicate china, white with a blue pattern.

“Do you like it?” Gold asked. Belle nodded.

“It’s lovely. How come it’s so cheap? Well, so much cheaper than everything else. Considering I’m not earning at the moment I should probably be somewhat thriftier in my tastes.”

“It’s incomplete. Missing a cup that got chipped when I was setting it out for sale.”

“That’s a shame. Couldn’t you repair it?”

“I couldn’t find the chip. I still have the cup though.”

He went over to a cupboard behind the counter and took out a single teacup in the same white and blue pattern as the rest of the set, a very noticeable chip taken out of the rim. Belle smiled when she saw it, something imperfect in this pristine world of perfect restoration and conservation.

“How much for it?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“How much for the chipped cup? It’s not like you’re going to sell it to anyone else and although I’m generally one for supporting local businesses and the like, the rest of the set would stretch my wallet slightly.”

Gold just gave a huff of soft laughter. “If you want it that much, it’s on the house,” he said. “You’d be doing me a favour; it’s only taking up storage space.”

He wrapped the cup up in paper for her, although seeing as though it was already damaged it seemed like a pointless exercise, and Belle slipped it into her bag with the job ads. It was a small thing, but it was something that was hers and something connected with her new life, rather than her old one. It was her first step towards rebuilding herself, and she felt very proud that she had made it.

“Thanks,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for the post-it hand-out then?”

Gold nodded. “Yes, you will. Good evening, Belle.”

“Good evening, Gold.”

There was a pause then, a moment in which Belle thought that perhaps she ought to say something else, although she didn’t know what she was going to say. It looked like Gold was going to say something too, and then Belle remembered what Mulan had said in the diner that morning. She broke their shared gaze with an embarrassed cough and hurried out of the shop, only sneaking a look back over her shoulder once she was safely outside with the door between her and Gold. He wasn’t looking at her, absorbed in something on the counter, and Belle rushed away before she could make a fool of herself any further.

Dorothy was still in when Belle arrived back at the flat, trawling through Internet dating profiles with an air of frustration.

“It’s kind of hard to meet people when you work shifts in a hospital,” she grumbled. “So far, every date I’ve had off here has been terrible, but something keeps me coming back. Do you ever have this problem, Lacey?”

Belle shook her head. “Can’t say I’ve ever tried Internet dating.” Truth be told she hadn’t really been one for dating even when she’d been alive. The interest that Gold had sparked in her wasn’t exactly a frequent feeling, but one that she had felt often enough in the past to recognise it for what it was, causing her to try and tamp it down. It would have been terribly unprofessional.

Although, were they really colleagues? Reaping was sort of a job, although they didn’t get paid for it. Was Gold her boss? Mentor? Something undefined that she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in that way? Or did being dead blur the lines somewhat? It was all too complicated to think on and Belle determined to put it to the back of her mind.

“Oh well.” Dorothy clicked on a profile seemingly at random and began to type an introductory message. “Let’s see how we get on with this lady in red.”

Belle left her new roommate to it, and retreated into her bedroom, taking the teacup out of her bag and putting it in pride of place on her nightstand. Soon enough things would join it, but for now at least she had the feeling that she was making the place her own.

Tomorrow she would see Gold again, and she would officially begin her career as a grim reaper, receiving her first post-it.

X

Belle was the first person to arrive in the diner the next morning, perhaps out of an anticipation to get her first reap over and done with as soon as possible, although objectively she knew that getting there early wouldn’t necessarily guarantee that her reap was going to be early in the day. She might be hanging around until the evening to meet her post-it date, and she wondered how she was going to fill the time.

Perhaps a part of her early rising was also out of a desire to impress Gold with her dedication to the job. Now that she had accepted that this was what she was going to be doing for the next hundred or so years, she thought that she probably ought to show a little enthusiasm for it in the hopes of maybe currying favour with the powers that be that controlled the reapers’ quotas and getting to move on a bit quicker.

Gold was the next to arrive and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile when he saw her sitting alone in their usual booth.

“All ready for the first time?” he asked. “You always remember your first.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at him and he wrinkled his nose. “All right, perhaps that wasn’t the best analogy I could have chosen, but it is true.”

“What was your first?” Belle asked.

“Accidental drowning,” Gold replied, remarkably cheerfully all things considered, but when one had seen as much death as he had and helped so many souls to cross over, then it probably stopped affecting one quite as much as it was still affecting Belle. “The young man in question had decided to dive into the lake at the foot of a waterfall. It would have been a very impressive feat if he had managed it, and all his friends were very much looking forward to witnessing this miraculous jump. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the rocks on the bottom.”

Belle grimaced. “Ouch. I hope my first one is slightly cleaner than that.”

“Clean deaths are few and far between in external influences, I’m afraid.” Gold had opened his notebook and begun writing out the day’s post-its. “That’s our lot in this life. At least it always adds an element of adventure, as Ella would say. Graham’s constantly complaining that his reaps are boring because there’s no guesswork involved.”

“That’s morbid.”

“We’re dead, Belle. Morbid is in our very nature.” He handed her a yellow post-it. “There we are. Your very first reap.”

Belle looked down at the note.

A. Morgan, North Road Dental Surgery, ETD 10:56 AM

“How on earth am I meant to get into a dentist’s office?” she asked. “I’m not a dentist, nor do I know enough about dentistry to be able to blag it with any degree of confidence.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gold assured her. “If in doubt, take refuge in audacity. If you look and sound as if you’re meant to be somewhere then nine times out of ten, people will believe that you’re meant to be there. If you don’t have that assurance and confidence, then they’re going to suspect that something’s wrong. The more official you can make yourself seem, then the better you’ll get on.”

“Right. You know, drama was never my strong subject. There’s a reason why I became a librarian and not an actress.” She paused. “Can’t someone come with me as back-up? I know that death is non-transferrable, and I’d do the actual reap, but if someone could be there to give me some tips, that would help.”

Gold shook his head. “The first reap is one you’ve got to do on your own,” he said, and Belle just looked at him, wide-eyed.

“I’ve only witnessed two!” she yelped. “Considering that everyone’s told me how many different ways that there are for people to die in this division, I don’t think I’ve really had enough training yet!”

“Just be observant,” Gold said. “That’s going to be your best asset in this line of work. Watch out for the gravelings; you’ll only be able to see them out of the corner of your eye but if you can catch a glimpse of one, then it might give you a clue as to who’s going to die and how they’re going to do it.”

“What if it all goes wrong?” Although Belle had felt comparatively safe and at ease whilst she had been going around watching the other reapers at work, now that she was going to have to go it alone, all kinds of things that she had never thought about until now were making themselves known in a display of blind panic. “What if I get accused of murder or something?”

“I can safely say that none of my reapers have ever been accused of murder whilst I have been the head reaper of this post-it crew,” Gold said. “I’m not about to let you be the first to break that record.”

Belle nodded and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Wait, does that mean that reapers from other departments have been accused of murder?”

“There have been a few sticky situations in other areas in the past,” Gold admitted. “But never in Storybrooke. We pride ourselves on keeping our reapers out of trouble.”

Not entirely convinced that everything was going to be all right at the dentist’s office, Belle just sat back and stared at her post-it note, taking it all in and trying to formulate back-up plans of back-up plans to get A. Morgan’s soul out of his or her body and onto the afterlife without anyone noticing.

David and Mulan arrived within a few minutes of each other and both gave Belle wide grins when they saw that she had received her first assignment.

“You’re almost officially one of us,” Mulan said. “We’ll have to go out tonight and celebrate you taking your first steps into the reaping world. Will you join us, Gold? Ella will definitely come, she’s always up for anything that might involve the slightest possibility of gin in any shape or form; she’ll be there the moment we suggest it.”

Gold shook his head. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Oh, why not, Gold?” There was an amused smile on David’s face and Belle wondered if he knew something that she didn’t. “And don’t say that you’re too old, because you’re too old for everything by this point, and it never stops Ella.”

“That’s because Ella’s still stuck in the roaring twenties,” Gold muttered.

“Come on, Gold,” Mulan wheedled as she took her post-it note from him. “We’re celebrating Belle’s first reap! You can’t miss out on that.”

Gold rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“Did someone say celebration?” Ella wafted in, wearing a different fur coat this time.

“I told you,” Gold said. “She can hear someone mentioning gin from three miles away.”

“Don’t be a stick in the mud, darling, it’s most unbecoming. You yourself were fond of a little tipple back in the day.”

Mulan left Ella and Gold to their arguing and turned to Belle.

“The Rabbit Hole tonight?” she suggested. “Drinks are on us to celebrate your induction.”

Belle nodded. “Yes. That sounds good.” Since she had a new life now, she might as well live it. There wasn’t going to be a lot of point in making herself miserable for the next however many years.

“Great! Now, go and get your reap. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Belle wasn’t feeling quite so confident as she left the diner and made her way through the town towards the dentist. She was going to be far too early for her post-it appointment and she mulled around the street for a while. There was a post office a little way down from the dentist with its windows full of job ads, and Belle took a look at them. They were mainly for odd jobs and handymen, and although that would definitely give her some flexibility, she also wasn’t the greatest with a hammer and nails.

Then she saw it, and it was as if all her Christmases had come at once. The post office itself was looking for new postal workers. Bicycle and uniform provided. It would mean a lot of very early mornings, but it would give her the freedom she needed to get around to her reaps (and a bicycle with which to do it) and would allow her to get inside people’s homes. She wouldn’t even have to fake UPS deliveries like Mulan had.

She was about to go in and inquire, but then she looked at the time and dashed back towards the dentist instead. It was almost showtime. Belle glanced at the names of the dentists on the board. No A. Morgans there.

The receptionist was on the phone and paying no attention to any of the patients in the waiting room; her name badge read Tracey, so she was unlikely to be the unlucky victim. Since she was distracted, Belle leaned casually over the reception desk to look at the appointments book. Bingo. Adelaide Morgan, appointment at 10:50 AM.

Now all Belle had to do was find the Adelaide Morgan in question and take her soul before her appointment. The clock was ticking, and there were three other women in the waiting room. Any one of them could have been the mysterious Adelaide, although Belle thought that it was likely to be the elderly lady in the corner, with a regal bearing and a fur coat remarkably similar to Ella’s. Perhaps that was what Ella would have looked like if she’d lived to old age.

Belle took a seat in the waiting room next to the water cooler; no-one seemed to pay any attention to the fact she hadn’t checked in at reception and had ostensibly just wandered in off the street and sat down. She had a plan, and she just hoped that it was going to work.

A dentist came out of the one of the offices.

“Adelaide Morgan?”

Belle was right, it was the elderly lady in the corner. As she tottered towards the dentist, Belle rose from her seat and went over to her.

“Here, let me help you.”

Although Belle had seen souls being removed before, she didn’t really know exactly how the process worked. As she touched Adelaide’s arm, she concentrated hard, and felt something pulsing beneath her hand. The only word that she could use to describe it was bright, even though she couldn’t see it, and she held on a little tighter, drawing the soul out and watching the wispy white dissipate around her hand. She had taken her first soul, and it had come almost by instinct.

Having delivered Adelaide safely into the dentist’s office, Belle sat down to wait again. She really didn’t want to know what was going to happen in there to cause the poor woman’s demise, and when she saw a graveling bounce out of the window out of the corner of her eye, she scowled at it.

From inside the office came the crackling sound of electricity, and then all the lights in the waiting room went out and the dentist shot out of the office as fast as his feet could take him, his hands smoking slightly as he screamed for Tracey the receptionist to call an ambulance. Behind him, at a much slower pace, came Adelaide. Belle got up to meet her.

“It’s all right,” she soothed the soul. “It’s over now. I’ll take you to your lights.”

Adelaide nodded gratefully and accepted Belle’s arm, and together they left the building. A beach scene was spread out in front of them, and Belle let her charge go. Once the lights had faded, Belle didn’t know what to do. She just stood there looking at the road, misty drizzle beginning to fall all around her.

“Well done.”

She whirled around and saw Gold waiting outside the dentist.

“I thought you said no-one was going to come with me?” she accused.

“No-one did,” he pointed out. “You did the entire reap by yourself, and you did it very well. I just thought you might like a friendly face in the aftermath.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. You’re now a fully-fledged reaper. Congratulations.”

They walked off down the street together, back towards the post office and Belle’s possible new line of work, and they stopped outside. Belle took a deep breath. If she could take a soul on her own, then she could say her piece.

“You know, it would be really great if you could come to the Rabbit Hole tonight.”

Gold nodded. “I’ll see you there.”

And despite whatever misgivings Belle had had, when she arrived in the bar to the cheers of the other reapers, Gold was right there with them.  

[thegeekerynj]

DC’s Future State: The Home Runs, Hits, and outright Strikeouts  

(Or, how Politics and Comics Don’t Mix)

Greetings from somewhen along the fractured timelines, and somewhere in the newly reconstituting Omniverse! Tis’ I, your faithful, but recently missing Fat Guy, finding his way back to a Universe with a keyboard, Intel processor, and something as far from MyFace as possible!

Gentle Readers, when last I had the privilege of gracing these Interwebs, Death Metal #7 had not yet hit the shelves, nor had Dead Earth #6. 

My spin down the ‘rabbit holes’, between the lunacy of the viral insanity that gripped the country, and then, the worries which came out of the COVID Pandemic, had me more focused on depressing issues, than the IMPORTANT THINGS in LIFE…

What DID happen with Wonder Woman? And, What came out of the lunacy of the Metal Saga?

Well, let’s touch on a few of those topics, the second, first.

What happened out of the Metal Saga? Well, we get a view of the Future, or a possible Future, if this is the Final State. We get to see some Characters grow, some disappear, some books remain the same, some will change DRASTICALLY.

We get to hear jokes about the Fifth Generation and how it is a marketing ploy for the Mothership, the United Conglomerated Moneygrab AT&T.

We get a name change from 5G to Future State, without a real concept change.

Oh, and Dan DiDio got fired. So did about half of DC’s regular staff.

But, I digress. 

Anyway, the premise is really simple… It’s Baseball Season! That being the case, I’m going to engage in a game of hybrid game of Sewer Cap Baseball, with each group of books graded as a Single, Double  Triple , Home Run, Out or Side Retired. This will not be an arbitrary judgment, as there will be some criteria to be followed.

The RULES: 

Home Runs  Well, a Home Run has to have outstanding artistry and story, the work being exemplary. Plot, characters, premise, everything is crisp, fresh and enjoyable. Writer and Artists have brought the reader to a place where they know the divergent reality is believable, in context.

Triples: If a Home Run is everything hitting on all cylinders, the Triple is the single knock in the engine. The pothole that nags at the Reader, the Idea that makes the Collector say, ‘This was really good…BUTTTTTT…’. Not the hook that leaves you wanting more, it’s the oversized hook that says’I just can’t swallow that’.

Double: A Double has a glaring issue that takes the reader out of the story… Frank Miller ‘300’ style Artwork on “Millie the Model’ type of ‘Well, that was a misfire!’ The story can be exceptional, or the Artwork wonderful, there’s just that GLARING issue that pulls the Reader away.

Single: The GLARING ERROR is extensive, pairing Yo-Yo Ma with Weird Al extensive. Both wonderful, but put together, and too much is lost in translation. The pairing of an ultra detailed writer with a 60’s style artist, who does no backgrounds, except for splash pages.

STRIKE OUT: Something is just BAD. 1985 Secret Wars BAD. Unfinished Kevin Smith Widening Gyre Cliffhanger BAD. Spider Buggy BAD. Not usually one to say something is BAD, I have said I didn’t like certain things. Not liking something does not make it BAD. Something horrifically wrong with it, that makes it BAD.

SIDE RETIRED: OK, this is a very special category, reserved for the Story That Has Been Done To Death, Didn’t Need To Be Done Again, Yet Here We Are, New Universe, Same Old CRAP!

This is the ‘Superman painted himself with invisible lead paint’ story, the ‘Bat-Shark Repellent in the Utility Belt Story (outside the 60’s camp stories)’…

So Gentle Readers, with all that said, the Pitchers and Catchers are set, the Batters are ready, the Managers are already bitching at the Umpire, sooooooo, Let’s Play Ball!

And remember, the Umpire reserves the right to continue the Game onto another day, as the Sun Goes Down…

===========================================================

First Inning:

Batter UP!

Dark Nights: Death Metal #7

Writer: Scott ‘Skull Crusher’ Snyder  Pencils (PP1-28) Greg ‘Constrictor’ Capullo,  Inks: Jonathan ‘’Gut Punch’ Glapion; Artist (PP 29-36) Yanick ‘Yell Master’ Paquette,  Artist (PP 37-38) Bryan ‘Hatchet Man’ Hitch

‘Tell me our shorts were not this short!

No way! They were MUCH SHORTER!

I will not die by pixie boot. I will not die by…’

———————————————————————————————————

This is it folks! The First Batter, or, the End of the Beginning, however the heck you want to look at it.

Gentle Readers, you can’t get to the Future State without first talking about the last issue of the series that brought you there… so, here we go!

Six issues, or, 23 issues, depending on your budget, wallet size, and ability to ‘Just Say NO!’, and here we are, the LAST ISSUE of the Death Metal Saga, which actually started way back in Batman #1 of the REBIRTH reboot, and carried through the METAL / Batman Who Laughs / Year of the Villain… so, the gift that kept on taking!

Anyway, this has been the Longest Long Game, and the Payoff has been SPECTACULAR! 

Constantly swinging between the Battle of the Bat-Families, the Superman Fight Squad and the Last Son, and the one - on - one death match between Wonder Woman and The Batman who Laughs, we get the battle scenes we have craved all along. 

Death, carnage, mayhem, and Jarro… who could ask for - - - What, you want more???? Well, we can add in the Totality, Diana of Themyscira, Goddess, ElseWorld, and finally finding out who was narrating this book for the last 77 years… Ya know, that’s enough.

Not that there isn’t more, I’m just not writing about it here…

Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo have left everything on the field with this book. No regrets, no punches puled, they finished this the way they started, unrelenting, unforgiving, and absolutely unstoppable. 

As a fan, I can say this is one of the few books I really jonesed for over the last year. The months when there was a skip due to the ‘One - offs’, I think I really got the shakes. This was one of the three stories of 2020 that made this Reader sit up and take notice.

As such, I highly recommend this entire series. This issue was fantastic, a fine ending to lead in to a new phase of the DC Universe, and Frickin’ ELSEWORLD!!!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

First Batter - Home Run!

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Batting Second…

Generations Shattered  #1 / Generations Forged #1

Writers: Dan Jurgens, Robert Venditti, Andy Schmidt  

Artists: Ivan Reis and Joe Prado, John Romita JR and Danny Miki, Kevin Nowlan, Rags Morales, Doug Braithwaite, Ema Lupacchino and Wade von Grawbadger, Dan Jurgens and Klaus Janson, Yanick Paquette, Bernard Chang, Aaron LoPresti and Matt Ryan, Mike Perkins, Fernando Pasarin and Oclair Albert, Paul Pelletier and Sandra Hope. Colleen Doran, Marco Santucci, Joe Prado, Bryan Hitch and Andrew Currie, Dan Jurgens and Kevin Nowlan

‘I will not spend another day behind bars! Not on Tamaran! Not on Maltus! And not HERE!

Starfire! Don’t!

It’s RICOCHETING!

Not bored now!’

———————————————————————————————————

So, What happens when ALL the Timelines are SHATTERED by a Multi-Cosmic Level Event?

Naturally, you send Booster Gold out to recruit an army of tactically important individuals from across the Multiverse, is an attempt to repair and cement the Timelines back together.

And what happens when said Man with a Master Plan and a hovering supercomputer gets himself killed?

Well, that duty now falls to Kamandi, the Last Boy on Earth!

Yes, this is where we start, in the Time After The Great Disaster, with Kamandi and Tuftan trying to outrun some Bat-Men, and the Great White Goneness (Crisis Energy, Take II), an aged Booster Gold trying to recruit him, then getting swallowed up by the Crisis Energy (™), and Kamandi and a Skeets bracer escaping into the Dimensional Void to continue Booster’s mission…

No, this isn’t a rehash of the Kamandi Challenge from a few years ago, this is the aftermath of Death Metal.

All the Time / Dimensional Lines are in flux, and they can either get repaired, or, if Dominus has his way, only his little pocket dimension will remain.

So, we have Kamandi and Skeets, Starfire (from 1983), John Henry Irons (Steel) (from 1993), Superboy (from the Legion Timeline), Dr. Kimiyo Hoshi (Dr. Light) (from 1987), Sinestro Korugar, the Green Lantern for Sector 1417, Booster Gold, Day 1 in Metropolis, and Batman, circa 1939 versus Dominus’ incarnation of the Linear Men… O.M.A.C, Liri Lee, Rayak the Ravager, Matthew Ryder, Ultra-Humanite, Knockout, Artemis, Eradicator, Major Force, and Nemesis Kid… A virtual Who’s Who of Evil throughout the DC Timelines!

The Goal? Survive, Win, Preserve the hard-fought victory brought by the sacrifice of Diana, or face Oblivion.

A very well written story, presented by some amazing artists, and showcasing others we will be seeing throughout the Future State event. Of some note, the gorgeous pages by Colleen Doran, the work of Kevin Nowlan, Rags Morales, Doug Braithwaite, John Romita JR, Dan Jurgens and Klaus Janson. Some of the pages… ehhh.

A neat tie in, a way to let readers new and old know there are things which need to be fixed, and there are plans underway to do so, and to once again highlight Rip Hunter’s Blackboard!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶

Second Batter - Triple

===========================================================

In the Three Hole…

Future State: Kara Zor-El  Superwoman

Writer: Marguerite Bennett   Artist: Marguerite Sauvage

‘I’ve come so far to learn that I can’t control what others think.

And that was another thing i learned from you, my good, grand Greatest Boy, KRYPTO the SUPERDOG.’

———————————————————————————————————

The title of this story comes from a quote attributed to Confucius,’Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves’, implying in the seeking of vengeance, one loses themselves, as well.

‘Dig Two Graves’ takes place in the far future, long after the prophesied battle between Clark and Jon Kent, when the son suppliants the father.

Kara has taken those who sought Safe Haven to the Moon, to the Fortress of Solitude there, where she expanded, and reinforced, and made it habitable for those looking to escape the violence.

And she forsook the violence, herself.  

No longer to be called upon as the Protector of Kal-El, a title long gone and forgotten, she has chosen to practice the ideals which her cousin, his son, and she should have been practicing all along.  Consideration, kindness, respect…

And then the idyllic peace is broken.

Marguerite Bennett gives us an extraordinarily beautiful story, one of insight, growth, beginnings and ends. This is a masterful piece, which tells a tale on many levels, which appeals to the most cynical among us (hand raised here), and the youngest, most hopeful at heart.

Paired with the writing is the beauty of Marguerite Sauvage’s artwork, both delicate in places and frenetic in others, telling the tale of the Gardener, the Hero, and the Rescuer. Beautifully rendered, the art carries the words as a tune carries lyric, bringing the Reader through the rises and lulls of the storyline in a beautifully orchestrated dance

Most notable of the story is the coloring, or seeming lack thereof For most of the story, with some exceptions, the most vibrantly colored character is Kara, with the Colonists and the Visitors appearing as pale in comparison ( for the most part, they are white, with pale highlights). 

This story is one of the true highlights of the Future State lineup…

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

AAAnnnnnnddddddd, It’s outta Here!  

HOME RUN

===========================================================

And in the Clean-Up Spot…

Future State: Green Lantern #1-2

Writer: Geoffrey Thorne  Artist: Tom Rainey

Writer: Ryan Cady  Artist: Sam Basti

Writer: Ernie Altbacher  Artist: Clayton Henry

Writer: Josie Campbell  Artist: Andie Tong

Writer: Robert Venditti  Artist: Dexter Soy

‘My name is Beelu Kenz. You won’t have heard of my world.Bit of a Hellscape really. Everything there kills you. The air, the animals, even the dirt.

My people not only live there, we THRIVE. We ADAPT.We’re not the bloody fighters Khundia makes but we’ve got one thing over you. Two things, really.

We’re the BEST Weaponeers in the Spiral Arm. No one can touch us.

My Planet’s called IMSK and when an Imskian wants something to die—-

—-IT SPROCKING DIES!’

———————————————————————————————————

Two issues, five stories, one central theme carried through both issues… the Oan Lantern of Power has died.

We have John Stewart leading a cadre of Lantern Warriors, in the defense of a planet, against the militant worshippers of the God in Red, a god they believe wants warriors to commit slaughter and carnage in his name.

Stewart and Company teach them three lessons.

The story is marvelous, bringing in some great old names (Salaak, G’NORT!), while weaving a tale of great intrigue and detail which keeps the reader enthralled to the last page.

`

Next, the Sinestro Corps, taking the Green Lantern Outpost stations, invade the Station in Sector 023, only to find it defended by Jessica Cruz.

Story number three, well, there had to be a Warrior’s Bar Story, didn’t there? Which, of course gives us Guy Gardner.

The fourth story, a team story, puts Keli Quintela, the Teen Lantern and Mogo, the Living Planet, on a mission to find Jo Mullein, the Lantern’s resident detective, in the hopes of finding out the secrets of Keli’s overpowered, obviously alien ‘Power Gauntlet’.

Finally, and obviously necessary, for what collection of stories about the Green Lantern Corps would be complete without it, we get the story of Hal Jordan, and his search for the Lanterns, and  the Guardian’s Homeworld of Oa.

And who he finds when he arrives there…

Every story on point, every character well written, all converging toward, well, we don’t know yet. But we will.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

The windup! The Pitch! The SWING! KRAAAAK!  IT”S IN THE BLEACHERS!!

HOME RUN!

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Batting Fifth

Future State: Legion of Super Heroes #1-2

Writer: Brian Michael Bendis  Artist: Riley Rossmo

‘If I knew this was why you called me here, I would never have come! Not only should the Legion STAY DISBANDED —- The word should NEVER be spoken again!

T —- Tas —-  GAKK!  COFF!

***Listen, I stopped giving out Free Mood Stabilizers a long time ago*** But that wasn’t going the way you wanted!

_______________________________________________________________________

So, 31st Century, and the known galaxies are KA-Blooie!

RJ Brande is dead, the Legion has been disbanded, and BATTLE LINES have been drawn along loyalties…

Why, you ask?? How???

Well, it seems Post - Death Metal and the Restructuring, there was a traitor in the Legion.

Jan Arrah, Element Lad, has been branded with the label, a branding which carries to all his people.

The result of the treachery, the Planets of the Known Galaxies have been ruined, and left nearly uninhabitable.

Or, was it these people…

Brian Michael Bendis has given us a new future, one in the midst of upheaval, where the United Planets has been disbanded, the Legion is split along loyalties, and whether they want vengeance or redemption.

A well written, engaging story, wonderfully told through some different characters: 

Chuck Taine, Bouncing Boy, taking the battle to the Khunds as they try to colonize the devastated worlds; 

Imra Ardeen, Saturn Girl, trying to bring her beloved Legion back together to fight the real threat to the galaxy, and carrying a secret which is crushing her;

Luornu Durgo, once Triplicate Girl, now trying to find herself after one of her selves has been killed, and afraid to recombine because the pain of missing her is too great to deal with, and other characters we have come to know over the last year.

Where Bendis’ story is the blazing signal fire to light the way toward a stronger future in the DC Multiverse, Riley Rossmo’s Art is the Asbestos Blanket and Aircraft Fire Foam which induces all the cancers and kills it.

I’m sorry. There are times Riley Rossmo’s artwork really works for me. This chaotic styling is perfect within the framework of characters like Bizarro, Constantine, even the JLA, when there are magic or Lobo-like story elements involved. I especially liked his work on the Robin King, the frenetic, chaotic stylings appealed to my senses, made me giggle, and cringe at the same time.

Not here, though. Here, his work pulled me out of the story faster than if I had a tow hook jammed through my nether regions, and it was attached to a hiballin’ Peterbilt turbocharged tractor trailer.

This, Gentle Readers, was painful. It hurt my eyes, on a scale with the COVID News Conference from April 2020. I think I bled. 

I might still be…

I know I cried, because no matter how good the story was, I could not enjoy it.

Out of 5     🌶🌶

OUT

Batting Sixth

Future State: Aquaman 1-2

Writer: Brandon Thomas, Artist: Daniel Sampere

‘Is she here?

Jackson?

AQUAMAN, IS SHE HERE?

AQUAWOMAN LIVES’

———————————————————————————————————

Oh GOD. OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD!!!

Have you ever heard that line, or an iteration of it? The Katz’s Deli scene in ‘When Harry Met Sally’, maybe?

This book  was the equivalent.

I know, it was an Aquaman Book.

How often has an Aquaman Book been Original, or Relevant?

There was Craig Hamilton’s Miniseries in 1985, that gave us the really neat camo Aquaman suit, then there was Flashpoint, and Throne of Atlantis, and the introduction of Kaldur’ahm, or Jackson Hyde, the son of Black Manta.

Now, we have Andy Curry, AquaWoman.

This is a time where less is more. 

Brandon Thomas has given us a two issue story which I have gone back and read 4 times, because it is that good! David Sampere’s artwork is crazy beautiful, so gloriously detailed it leaves the eyes wanting more. 

This is the AquaPerson Story I have been waiting for since the movie… No dumb oversized seahorses, no force waterballs… carnage, and dimension hopping insanity, this makes a fantastic story!

All I can say is, if there is one story you MUST Read, it is this!

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

And that ball is GOING, GOING, GONE! They’re gonna find that one out on Sheffield!

HOME RUN

===========================================================

Seventh Batter

Future State: The Flash #1-2

Writer: Brandon Vietti   Artist Dale Eaglesham

‘Focus on the Science.

Science reveals Answers. 

Answers build Hope.’

———————————————————————————————————

NOOOOOOO!

After EVERY Time I picked up a Flash book over the last two years, and constantly getting assaulted with a NEVER-ENDING GODSFORSAKEN Redemption Arc story, what do i see here?

Barry Allen, in a REDEMPTION ARC STORYLINE!!!

The self-sacrificing hero of the Crisis, the overpowered, no the hero with the broken power structure, who turned Superman into an Anti-Life Zombie by VIBRATING THROUGH HIS ULTRA DENSE BODY, and leaving his fingers inside (uh, GROSS!!, but oh so cool!) now in a REDEMPTION ARC???

Nope! I’m done.

As Pretty as Dale Eaglesham’s artwork is (and it is pretty), This is a MAD Fail for me.

Out of 5🌶        🌶🌶     (if I split the grading this would have a 4.5 for the Artwork… the layouts are imaginative and well done, and the speed scenes are fantastic! This is how the Flash should be done, as artwork)

SIDE RETIRED.

As the sun starts to dip, and the street lights begin coming on, it’s time to call it a night.

At the end of the First Half of the Innings we have:

4 Home Runs

1 Triple ( a near miss, more for consistency of story and artwork… but points for Nemesis Kid and Major Force!)

1 Out (If I split it, it would have been a HR and a Side Retiring Art Fail)

And an Outright Side Retire

7 sets done, 15 more to do… We’ll start playing at Sunrise tomorrow, make a real day of it!