#one day you’ll be as big and strong as your captain kyle

[sigh-tofm]

when the power goes out one cold and rainy november evening…

… price

- goes full dad. pulls the grill up to the back veranda door and cooks up some mean steaks for you two. gets a fire going in the fireplace to keep the house heated. has half a mind to call the power company and tell them that they don’t need to hurry, he’s got everything covered here. actually, they don’t need to come at all, not for a few days. tells you his thoughts as he pulls the mattress off your bed and deposits it in the living room in front of the fireplace, so you both can keep warm tonight. you let him know in no uncertain terms that he will do no such thing. you’ll let him have is fun tonight, but you will need a hot shower and a working oven in 36 hours, no matter how much he wants to play boyscout. but as you sit in front of the roaring fireplace and your admittedly very rugged and handsome husband feeds you bits of grilled steak and holds a glass of red wine to your lips, a thick, warm blanket covering you both, you must admit that this isn’t bad either.

… kyle

- excitedly improvises. you know, it’s like this every day when we’re in the field, he beams as he brushes the dust off the firepit in the woodshed. doesn’t mean it has to be like this now though, does it, kyle. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and watch as he finds the least rotten firewood in the shed and uses up eight matches before he can get a light. you almost tell him to leave it and come inside, that you’ll order in tonight, but he’s so engulfed in fanning the little flame to life that you can’t help but play along. you get an umbrella when the rain comes down harder and use it to shield both your boyfriend and his firepit from the weather. when you gently ask how he’s going to cook up the pizza you two were in the middle of preparing when the power went out, he wilts a little, but somehow manages to macgyver a cooking system for it that only leaves it slightly burnt. you know, he says while you two are standing under the awning, admiring your fire baby and nibbling on damp, blackened pizza, in the field we sometimes need to share sleeping bags too.

… johnny

- immediately relents. moans and groans about being off duty and that he shouldn’t be expected to fend for himself like this when he isn’t in an active war zone. you pull up the local takeaway menu on your phone and hand it to him. go get us some warm food, soldier, you prompt him and gather up some supplies while he’s away. the old scottish farmhouse you live in has a fireplace, of course, so you light a fire there and with some effort pull the couch up in front of it. blankets and pillows from the living room, old fair isle knit jumpers from the hallway closet, a sheepskin rug to warm your feet on. when he comes back with his arms full of steaming indian (best to get some extra, mo chridhe), his mood seems to have lightened a little too. especially when he sees you in thigh high knit stockings, wearing his jumper and laying on the sheepskin rug. okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. at least he’s not being shot at.

… simon

- is prepared. goes down to the basement and carries up box after box of emergency equipment. hands you a round little paraffin stove (which you have no idea how to work) and a matching aluminium pan, as well as a large variety of ready-made freeze dried stews and soups. just add water, he says unhelpfully, and continues pulling out equipment from his kit. amongst the various bags of tools and gadgets you can spot tent poles and emergency flares, and it’s obvious he’s been itching to use all this stuff for a while. you decide to entertain him and google your way around the stove, finally getting a light on it. you light candles and pull out your winter coats while the water boils, making it an overall cozy time. hav’ta be prepared, he mutters as he comes to sit with you when the food’s ready, the living room full of his unpacked catastrophe preparations. next time we’ll just go to a hotel, you gently request and serve him year-old mushroom stew, brought back to life with some warm water. he looks longingly at all his equipment. you yield. or camping.

[spaceskam]

sing like we’re losing everything

Happy birthday, @chamblerstara! I know it’s a little late, but better late than never! This is a long time coming, so hope everyone enjoys it! Special thanks to @insidious-intent and everyone else who hyped me up whenever I posted a sneak peek :)

warning: gore, violence, mentions of child abuse

ao3

“Michael!”

“Liz!”

“Michael!”

Michael ran through the empty Walmart, headed for wherever Liz was calling for him from. He could hear her screaming and could only imagine what was happening and could only run faster. He hated taking her. He loved her and she was smart and she could do damage, but she was small and easy to lose. Too many fuckers were taller than her and he could never see where she was.

“Liz?!” he called as he had to slow down. In the stupid electronics section, a hoard of fuckers had accumulated and he could only assume Liz was somewhere on the other side. His stomach dropped when half of them started turning towards him. “Liz, you okay?” 

“Alive!”

“Good enough,” he said. Michael quickly retrieved his 9” fillet knife and his 17” machete from their respective sheaths. Another, shorter knife was tucked into his waistband and two more were strapped to his calves. Could never be too careful. “Bring it on.”

Slowly but surely, Michael began making his way through the hoard by aiming for heads. Beheading was much easier to achieve on rotting flesh. The fillet knife worked wonders when going through eyesockets and trying to fuck up the brain. He moved fast and relentless. He didn’t stop until they were all on the floor and he could barely breathe.

“Liz?” he asked, desperately gasping for breath. He’d gotten his cardio for the day, that’s for sure.

“Mikey,” Liz responded. He leaned against the counter and smiled when he saw her climbing out of one of the glass containers beneath it. If there was one good thing about her being so small, that was it. Well, that and her unmatched ability to run through a whole group of fuckers and not even get scratched. 

He accepted the hug that she threw at him, squeezing her tight. As talented as she was at not getting hurt, it never failed to scare him when it got risky. She was basically the only one left that didn’t annoy him.

“Did you at least find what you were looking for?” he asked, tucking fallen strands of her braid behind her ear. She gave him a smile that was only slightly affected by the adrenaline in her system and held up her bag. Inside was shampoo, hand sanitizer, and curl cream. He couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear to God, if I get killed because of that shit next time, we’re gonna fight.”

“Can’t wait.”

Neither of them had to wait very long when something grazed Michael’s back.

The fight instinct in him caused him to spin around. The fucker was close enough to grab him and Michael could feel his pulse rise. This could only go bad. Still, he swung. If he was going to die, he was going to die fighting.

The blade of his machete cut through the fucker's neck, but stopped halfway through as it clanged against another blade. Michael's eyebrows came together instantly in confusion. When the fuckers head fell off, another person stood across from him.

A breathing person. A handsome person. A live person.

He didn't know there was anyone left outside of his group. Seeing another person alive made his mind go blank. Sure, logically, there had to be at least someone else out there. But someone so close? Someone right here at the same time?

“Who are you?” Liz asked from behind him. Michael and the man still were standing blade to blade like they were in a fight scene. Her small hand moved around him and pressed to the center of his chest, pulling him away from the stranger.

“Did it scratch you?” the stranger said instead, looking straight at Michael. He looked like he was their age with dark, outgrown hair and facial hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept or bathed in days and his clothes were on in layers like he didn’t have anywhere safe to sleep.

“No,” Michael said, “Are you by yourself?”

"Who are you?" Liz asked again, firmer this time like she was really not going to put up with them skirting around the subject.

"Captain Alex Manes, Air Force," he answered, voice strict. It made Michael wonder when the last time this guy had seen another living person. “And you?”

“I’m Michael, this is Liz,” Michael said, ignoring the way Liz’s fist tightened on his arm. The guy was still just staring at them. “Are… are you alone?”

“Yes,” Alex said, looking between them, “You’re not.”

“We have people waiting for us where it’s safe. Do you have a safe place to go?” Michael wondered. Liz clutched him tighter, tight enough to make him look back at her. She gave him a very stern look and that just confused him more.

“She doesn’t want you to bring a stranger home,” Alex filled in. Michael looked back at him and saw that he seemed even more tired than before. It was like the last bit of hope in him had been snatched away. 

“Okay, but he needs somewhere safe, we all do,” Michael argued as he looked to Liz. She sighed.

“Times are bad, Michael, it’s not safe to bring a stranger in,” she said as if he wasn’t right there. Michael knew she was right. He knew that people had gone insane after this whole thing had started, hurting each other as if that was going to help. He knew that, if anyone was left, they probably had a strong “Us vs. Everything” mentality. But the problem was Alex was completely alone. 

“He just helped kill that thing. And we could take precautions. But would you want to be left on your own?” Michael said. Liz looked at him like he was skipping steps. They hadn’t had a single conversation with this guy and he was already trying to bring him home like a stray dog. But Michael was ready to go home and he wasn’t ready to let someone else go die. Too many people had died already.

“It’s fine. I don’t know you either, I don’t need help,” Alex said sternly.

“If you’re alone, you’ll die. You can only save yourself for so long. And there’s no reason you would’ve come to save me if you didn’t think that maybe you’d found someone else so you weren’t alone,” Michael shot back, “We took you in when you had no place to go, Liz. Why can’t we take someone else in?” They all fell silent for a moment as they mulled over the options.

Michael didn’t see how there were any other options. They were safer in numbers.

“You can come back with us and discuss it with everyone else,” Liz decided. Michael grinned and Alex simply stared with wide eyes. “You look like you could use a safe place to get a good night’s sleep.”

A couple more beats of silence passed before Alex whispered, “Thank you.”

They made their way back to the truck, quickly tying their finds down in the bed before sliding into the bench seat and heading back to the farm. Michael drove and Liz sat between them. Alex very obviously fought to keep his eyes open, but it was clear he hadn’t slept in a while. Not properly, at least. Michael felt a familiar wave of pride come over him that he could give someone a safe place to rest their head.

Elms Farm was the place Michael had called home since he was sixteen. He worked there for an elderly couple who treated him like he was their own son. It was the best family he’d ever had. It was to the point that he was in their will and, after Mr. Elms died a few years prior, the whole property had been left to Michael. Mrs. Elms had only passed recently.

Whenever shit hit the fan, Michael was blessed with property that had no people for a few acres in all directions. He took care of everything and tried to pretend it was normal. He checked the fence daily, he took water from the creek, he ate dinner alone. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until he wasn’t alone anymore.

 When they pulled up to the farm, Isobel was already waiting outside. She put her hand over her mouth and visibly relaxed whenever she saw them. She was always so worried, but Michael loved her for it. There was nothing better than coming out of a scary situation to a big hug from someone who loved you.

Maria, Kyle, and Max came out as they parked and Michael got out of the truck first. They all greeted him, but Isobel was the one who wrapped him up in her arms while the other three went to unload their findings from the truck.

“There was a close call,” Michael admitted, his eyes closing as Isobel hugged him tighter. He could hear her breathing in his ear and he was able to relax.

“Who’s this?” Max said, a tone in his voice that threatened to take away Michael’s relaxation. Isobel patted his hair and kissed his temple in subtle retaliation.

“It’s okay,” Isobel said, unwrapping him from her grasp so he could deal with Max. Still, she gave him a kind smile. “I’ll go make dinner.”

“Captain Alex Manes, Air Force,” Alex introduced, voice stilted as it was before. Michael rolled his eyes.

“He’s alone and needs a place to stay,” Michael said, feeling redundant.

Max gave him a look that was a much crueler version of the one Liz had given him. “Can I speak with you inside?”

Michael rolled his eyes again, but allowed Max to pull him inside to have a “quiet” talk.

“We don’t know who he is, he could be dangerous,” Max hissed. 

“So could literally all of you, but I welcomed you into my house. It is my house, by the way, in case you’re forgetting,” Michael said. He had significantly less patience for Max than he did anyone else. “I know I usually make decisions as a group, but if you’re making a decision to throw someone to the wolves, I’m just gonna have to veto it.”

“And what if he’s dangerous?” Max demanded.

“Then I’ll make him leave. As for right now, he’s just a guy,” Michael sighed, “Plus, he’s really good with a machete, probably good with other shit, and probably has damn good survival instincts if he was able to survive this long by himself. I think we should give him a chance, he might be a good addition.”

Michael and Max stared at each other for a moment. Max tried to stare him down, but it didn’t really work and eventually, he caved. 

“Fine, but if he fucks us over, it’s on you,” Max said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Obviously.”

They walked back outside and saw Alex helping them unload the food and other items they’d gotten. Michael looked over to Max with a ‘see?’ look that just made him scowl. He tried to remember why he let him stay in the first place.

“Alex,” Michael said, easily getting his attention, “Come here, I’ll show you where you can sleep and I’ll give you a clean change of clothes.” Alex stared over at him with wide eyes, but slowly listened and followed him back inside.

“You don’t have to give me a change of clothes,” Alex said.

“Don’t be silly.”

Michael led him to the master bedroom which got a very confused look from Alex. He looked like he was ready to deny it, but Michael spoke before he could.

“I’m going to eventually bring a mattress up to the attic for you. I think it’s really important for everyone to have some semblance of privacy. Until then, you can take my bed and I’ll sleep with Isobel. I’d put you in the living room with her, but, no offense, I’d rather we get to know each other first before you sleep alone with one of us,” Michael explained. Alex nodded.

“Absolutely, none taken,” Alex said, letting out a slow breath. Michael could see the weight of everyone on his shoulders. He understood it well.

“There’s a well on the land for drinking water and there’s a creek a little ways behind the house that we use for bathing and washing clothes. We all pull our weight around here when it comes to cooking, cleaning, getting water from the well, hunting, and getting supplies. I’m assuming that won’t be a problem,” Michael went on.

“Absolutely not. I can’t really cook, but I can hunt and get supplies, obviously,” Alex said, “I’m good at keeping myself alive.”

“And others,” Michael chimed in, giving him a smile. Alex stared at him for a moment. Michael only broke eye contact whenever he walked towards the dresser that once held Mr. and Mrs. Elms’ clothes. He hadn’t moved them there until Max and Isobel had shown up at the door two weeks after everything had gone downhill. “Anyway, here’s some clothes. You can change and sleep, then we can properly introduce you to everyone. I’m sure you’re fucking tired after being out there for so long by yourself. There’s a lock on the door too if it makes you feel better.”

“Thank you, man, seriously. I really don’t know how much longer I would’ve been able to last out there,” Alex said, accepting the clothes with gracious hands.

Michael gave him a warm smile.

“No problem.”

-

Turns out, having a veteran with determination from God himself was beneficial to everyone.

“God, his *arms,” Maria sighed as Alex pumped water from the well into jugs. Everyone agreed that was a good task for him and it had absolutely nothing to do with how hot he looked doing it.

“His arms? What about his ass,” Isobel pointed out.

“Guys, guys, stop sexualizing him,” Michael insisted, “Why don’t we talk about more important topics? Like about how he manages to have fucking abs in the middle of an apocalypse.”

The girls laughed alongside him, but he couldn’t help but feel it a little more than they did. He’d learned from the last week of getting to know Alex that he was unfathomably attracted to him. He was clean and wellrested now which made him a million times hotter and it didn’t help that he was ridiculously fucking smart and kind. Somehow, in all the bullshit of the world, Alex could still smile and be funny and sweet and… so fucking hot.

“You think he’s into guys?” Isobel asked, nudging him gently. Michael rolled his eyes and focused on peeling the potato in his hand. Or, tried. It was hard when Alex took his shirt off to wipe the sweat off his face all while glistening in the fucking sun like a god.

“I think we’re at the end of the world and I shouldn’t be thinking about dumb things like if a boy likes me, much less be trying to sleep with anyone,” Michael said. Maria scoffed dramatically.

“I disagree. This is literally the time to think of nothing else,” she insisted.

“Mm, speaking of,” a voice hummed from behind them. All their eyes snapped to Kyle who was lingering behind them. He gave them all a nod in greeting, clearly exhausted from spending all morning with Max checking the land and the crops. Isobel gave him a smile and tilted her head back against his stomach when he walked up behind her. Michael watched as he leaned down and kissed her. Sometimes they gave him hope that maybe the end of the world wasn’t really the end.

“Oh, come on, there’s people here,” Maria said, but she still gave them a smile and a shake of her head. 

“Michael, you goin’ into town tomorrow? We’re gonna need more bottles with another body around and the guy still needs a mattress,” Kyle pointed out. Michael nodded and dropped the potato into the bowl.

“Yeah, I was gonna get him to come with me,” Michael said. Both of them ignored the girl’s cooing at the suggestion. “He survived out there for a long ass time by himself, I think he’s the best to take with me from now on.”

“And that has absolutely nothing to do with the way his ass fills out your jeans better than yours does?” Maria clarified. Michael shot her a look.

“Don’t scare him off,” Kyle added with a laugh, “He’s cool.”

“I’m not going to scare him off!” Michael defended. He didn’t like the way they all looked at him really skeptically. “What the fuck, I didn’t scare any of you off.”

“You also didn’t want to sleep with us,” Isobel noted. Michael rolled his eyes and stood up.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go ask Alex if he platonically wants to come with me," he said, throwing them a middle finger at the continued cooing. 

Michael made his way out towards the well where Alex was crouched and tightening the tops of the jugs. He looked up whenever he heard him come close. Up close, his skin was dark and shiny and his facial hair had been tended to recently. It was overwhelming to say the least. It felt like a glaring sign that it'd been over a year since he hooked up with anyone. God help him.

"Hey, so I need to go into town tomorrow so I can finally get you a mattress," Michael said, "You wanna come?" 

Alex slowly stood up, "Yeah, sure." 

"Good, good. Cool. Awesome," Michael said. Alex gave a little grin and nodded.

"Cool," he repeated and then lifted one of the jugs onto his shoulder. Michael licked his lips and tried not to think about his bicep.

"Cool."

The next day, Michael woke up with the sunrise and found Alex already in the kitchen. He was shirtless and fucking gorgeous and it was a sight to see, but he tried to bury that down. This wasn’t the time for that. It probably never would be unless a cure was found and he could allow to focus on things like romantic relationships.

“Here you go,” Alex said with a smile, handing him a plate. Michael’s eyebrows raised.

“You made eggs? You built a fire this early to make eggs?” he asked. Alex gave a small smile and shrugged. Michael tried to brush it off and not think about him too much.

However, being alone with him and relying on each other not to die made it kind of hard not to think about him.

“So, what’s the best way to go about this? I’m trying to think about the safest way to get a mattress,” Michael said as they drove into town. Every venture into town was a risky one and, wherever they went, they’d have to move fast. The longer they took, the more they risked running into one of the fuckers which risked their lives. Wherever they went, it needed to be somewhere they could get out fast.

“Maybe we can just go to a neighborhood, try to sneak into an empty house?” Alex suggested. Michael nodded, looking over at him. 

“Good idea.”

Slowly but surely, Michael found a pretty empty neighborhood. He drove a couple of laps around a cul de sac before parking in a house with the front door open. 

“Okay, we’ll just see what we can find and get out before we attract any attention,” Michael said. Alex nodded easily, grabbing his machete from where it laid beside Michael’s and running his fingers over the blade. Michael grabbed his own.

Quietly, they made their way inside. It looked abandoned, but not ransacked which was good. Alex nodded towards the hall and Michael jutted his thumb towards the kitchen before they parted ways.

The kitchen looked pristine as if not a damn person had gone through it since shit hit the fan. Michael opened the cabinets and thanked whoever might be listening for the number of cans he found. He pulled his backpack to the front and began loading it with any food that was still edible. A quick look inside the refrigerator revealed a lot of rotting food, but also a load of water bottles. He was beginning to think Alex was a good luck charm.

“Michael,” Alex called softly. Michael quickly scanned the room before looking towards Alex. He waved him over. Michael zipped up the bag and went down the hall, peeking into every room he passed before reaching the one Alex was in. “I figured this would be the easiest to move.”

“Fuck,” Michael breathed as he took in the bedroom that very clearly belonged to a child. The walls were decorated with planets and the ceiling had glow in the dark stars while the carpet doubled as a road map that must’ve gone with the giant toy box of Hot Wheels. The bed had spaceship themed sheets and blankets. “Poor kid.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, “Maybe they’re somewhere safe. It looks like they got out fast.” Michael appreciated his positivity as bed he could and nodded.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The quickly stripped the bed of its sheets and stuffed them into Alex’s backpack before lifting the small mattress and beginning to maneuver it towards the front door. They both moved fast, not even trying to push their time limits as they strapped it down in the bed of the truck. After it was secure, they both looked around and saw not a single sign of any dead people roaming about.

“Should we raid the other houses?” Alex asked, “I mean, we can never have too much.”

“True, we might as well while it’s clear,” Michael agreed. They emptied their backpacks in the back seat of the truck before going back inside to see what else they could salvage.

“Where do you think they all go when it’s clear like this?” Alex wondered as they began stuffing their bags with food, toiletries, and blankets.

“I don’t know. They usually come in hoards.”

“Yeah, it’s like they’re migrating. Do you think if we went up north, it’d be empty?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Right now, I don’t want to leave. My farm is safe.”

“So it is your farm?”

Michael laughed, “Yeah, why?”

“Well, I know Max tends to act like big man on campus,” Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, he does that. It’s my farm, in my name. I’ve lived there since I was sixteen,” he admitted. Alex raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“Wow,” he said, “How did you find everyone?”

Michael shrugged one shoulder and made his way into the master bedroom with Alex right behind him. In the closet, there was a duffle bag that Michael quickly made claim on before shifting through the clothing. They were all on about two outfits a piece, most of which were originally Michael’s. While diverse clothing options wasn’t exactly a top priority, it wasn’t a bad thing to feel a little bit more normal.

“Isobel and Max are twins that the Elms’ fostered back in the day. By the time I moved in, they there about to move out and go to college, we only had about a year overlap before I didn’t see them much except holidays. Whenever things went downhill, they just came home,” Michael explained, taking one of the dresses that was in Isobel’s size, “I stumbled upon Kyle, Liz, and Maria when I was hunting. They had a bigger group, but they got attacked and most of ‘em didn’t make it, so they’d been hiding out in a fucking tent in the woods for a few days, so I took ‘em in.”

“Jeez, you’re a much better person than most people,” Alex breathed. Michael furrowed his eyebrows and gave him a confused smile.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, a lot of people would shut everyone else out. Fuck, your own group didn’t even wanna let me in because I was a stranger. You’re so open,” Alex praised. Michael felt his cheeks grow hot.

“Yeah, I mean, when times are like this, there’s no reason to make it worse by exiling people who haven’t done anything wrong,” he explained, “When I was a kid and I had a pretty sketchy past, the Elms’ took me in and gave me a roof over my head and affection. That shit makes a difference. I’m not gonna be the one to deprive someone of that.”

Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head. Michael watched him for a moment, watched the way he smiled and watched the way he pushed his hair out of his face. God, why couldn’t he have met him before the apocalypse?

“We should start heading back. We can always come back here and see what else we can find,” Alex said suddenly. It very quickly became apparent that Michael had been caught staring. Well, shit.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

"I'm sure you're ready to have your bed back," Alex said as they slowly made their way out of the neighborhood, "You know, even though I told you I could sleep on the floor."

"No, I don't want anyone sleeping on the floor," Michael chuckled, running a hand through his hair, "I want it to feel like home."

Alex raised his chin and cocked his head to the side. "You like playing daddy, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Michael fumbled out, trying not to think about how dry his mouth felt.

"I mean, you take so much pride in making it feel like home. You take people in, like you said, and you give them what they need. You’re like the resident father figure,” Alex commented. Michael huffed.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I would.”

This time, Michael caught Alex staring.

For the next few weeks, Michael found basically any excuse to go back into town with Alex. They’d go to new neighborhoods and slowly make their way through the houses. They got along, it was fun. Michael liked spending time with him, even to the point that killing the stray corpse they came across no longer felt like it took a piece of him.

He learned about Alex, too. He learned that he’d served almost ten years in the Air Force and had just decided to try something new whenever everything happened. Sometime a few weeks in, Alex’s father had been reckless and gotten turned and that he hadn’t heard from his brothers since the very beginning of it all. After that, Alex had survived so long on his own by sleeping in tiny, tight spaces that required too much effort for the average fucker to approach.

He even apparently saw Michael and Liz go into that store and took a chance by following them.

“I was sorta expecting you guys to just leave me, but I had to try. I couldn’t keep on like that, I was getting, like, an hour of sleep at a time,” Alex admitted as they lounged on one of the couches in this fancy house they’d come across. It was probably a little morbid, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was the only time they could chill and talk without someone breathing down their neck or making suggestive eyebrow movements. Yeah, Alex was hot, but he was a lot more than that.

“Well, I’m glad you approached us, you saved my ass,” Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, you had ‘em.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Things were easy with Alex. Sometimes he was even able to forget just how bad everything was‒Alex was just that good. Life felt a bit more than just a fight until the inevitable whenever they were talking. It was the highlight of his week, his life even.

“Oh shit, look,” Alex said from the kitchen of some fancy house. Michael quickly pulled his fillet knife out and prepared to attack whatever was in there, but instead found Alex standing with a smirk and an unopened bottle of champagne. Michael slowly put the knife down. “When’s the last time you had alcohol?”

“Can’t even remember.”

“Me neither.”

It took a little effort, but they eventually popped it open. The two of them divulged into hushed laughter at the loud pop, shushing each other and the bottle. Once they fell silent, Michael smiled at him and then did a quick scan of the room before going to lock all the doors.

“We’re gonna have fun and not have to worry about bullshit for just a few minutes,” Michael said, promising more himself than Alex as he sealed them alone together by locking all the doors. 

“Sounds fucking great to me,” Alex agreed and he took a swig directly from the bottle. For a moment, Michael let himself get lost in it. Just him, a hot guy, and a bottle of fucking champagne. What could go wrong?

“I wish we had fucking music,” Michael groaned, walking back towards him. Alex grinned a large, intoxicating grin.

“Who needs music? C’mere,” he urged. Michael obeyed without a second thought. Alex grabbed his chin and tilted his head back, pouring champagne into his mouth and over the front of his shirt. It just resulted in more laughter and leaning closer and the outright sinful act of Alex wiping up champagne from his chin and licking it off. 

“You are...” Michael started, but simply finish his sentence with a laugh instead of words. It was hard to say anything outright, but it was easy to watch Alex take another sip and hand the bottle over. It was easy to accept it and it was easy to taste Alex on the mouth of the bottle. 

They were half a bottle in whenever Alex leaned forward and fluttered those dark eyelashes. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Literally anything,” Michael said honestly.

“I feel free for the first time in my life,” Alex whispered, suddenly so damn close, “And it’s all because of you.”

“Me?” Michael asked softly, tipsy eyes flickering down to Alex’s lips and staying there. It didn’t help when Alex licked those same lips and leaned a bit closer.

“You gave me a place to stay and you made sure I was welcome no matter what. No matter who I might be, what I might do,” Alex said. Michael finally dragged his eyes up to Alex’s and found it impossible not to lean in just close enough for their noses to touch. He’d wanted this since the first week he’d met Alex. He had sort of lost track of how long Alex had been staying with them, but he knew it’d been a while. He’d wanted this for a while.

“Is this where you tell me you’re a bad guy, tie me up, and steal all my things?” Michael asked curiously. Alex’s smile took over his whole face and he chuckled, shaking his head against Michael's.

“No, this,” he said, “is where I tell you that you are fucking gorgeous.”

“Oh, cool, that’s a lot better than you being a bad guy,” Michael said. Or, perhaps it was the champagne talking because that felt like an insanely stupid thing to say after it left his mouth. Still, Alex breathed a laugh and moved his hand to rest on Michael’s cheek. He leaned into the warm hand and felt his whole body malfunction when his thumb touched his bottom lip.

“You are the best thing about this entire shitty planet,” Alex went on. Michael’s eyes fell closed. “And I… I think we should probably go home before we get too drunk to drive on even empty roads.”

Michael’s eyes snapped right back open just in time to see Alex stepping away. He didn’t know what to say to make it go back to before. All he knew was that he wanted at least one kiss and that he wasn’t going to get anything. So much for a good day.

“Right, right, let’s go," he agreed, gulping softly as Alex turned away from him and recorked the bottle. Michael had to shake his head a few times to get out of the daze Alex had put him in. 

They both drank the rest of the water they had on them to clear their minds of the alcohol before awkwardly heading out of the house. In all the time he’d known Alex, it had never been awkward. He didn’t like it. He almost wished they’d never had an almost kiss in the first place if it meant they weren’t going to be able to be comfortable with each other. However, he would give it some time before he jumped to those conclusions. Well, technically, he’d already jumped to them, but Alex didn’t need to know that.

So, instead of trying to make the tonal shift more apparent, Michael simply got in his truck and began making the drive back to the farm. It would be easier once they got there. They wouldn’t be stuck alone and Michael could whine to the girls about how fucking stupid he was. Alex had just found a place where he was welcome‒why would he want to ruin that by hooking up with Michael? He wouldn’t. He didn’t.

“Pull over,” Alex demanded halfway back to the farm.

“What?” Michael asked, looking over at him. Alex was staring forward, but his eyes were set in that determined way that he only saw him use whenever they came across a fucker or two. It made Michael nervous.

“Just‒pull over!”

“Jesus, okay,” Michael scoffed, slamming on the breaks and throwing the truck into park. All of which he had barely enough time to do before Alex had a fistful of his hair and was kissing him senselessly.

Michael barely hesitated before kissing back, pulling Alex closer by his clothes. The shirt that actually belonged to Michael was wrapped around his hand and his thumb was pressed to the soft skin of his hip. Alex couldn’t seem to get close enough, pressing flush against him even despite the small space of the truck and putting his knee between Michael’s thighs which was just fucking unfair. 

It only stopped whenever they were both gasping for breath in a way that kisses never usually left them. Michael held him close, keeping his eyes closed to let it all sink in. If he were to die in the next few seconds, he would die happy. He was everything.

“I just needed to do that,” Alex said, gulping softly. Michael felt his eyelashes against his cheek which felt just as mind-warping as the kiss itself. “But we can’t do that again.”

Michael let out a dry laugh, not pushing him away as he opened his eyes. Alex was still staring at him. “Why not?”

“Look around. The world’s going to shit. We can’t get distracted by things like romance,” Alex said. Michael shook his head and smiled. Romance.

“I think we could find time for it,” Michael whispered. Alex shook his head.

“I’m not going to get you killed, so it’s best we just not. I just… needed to do that once,” Alex admitted. Michael nodded in understanding, rubbing up and down Alex’s side before allowing him to get back into his seat. “I… I don’t know if sexuality even matters in this version of the world, but I am gay and I am into you. We just… can’t.”

“I get it,” Michael said, staring towards the empty road and tried to shake the feeling of Alex on him. That wasn’t exactly helpful when he could still taste him. “I wish we could, but I get it. It’s just not the time to be putting effort into a relationship when we have to put all our effort into surviving.”

“Precisely,” Alex agreed.

“And maybe one day… If things calm down."

“If things calm down, yeah, then we can revisit.”

“Yeah, totally,” Michael breathed, “But… for what it’s worth, I’m bisexual and I’ve been into you since basically the beginning. Nothing’s hotter than a man wielding a machete.” Alex laughed softly.

“Says the guy who fucking walks around with a five knife minimum.”

“I am very self-aware, Alex.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A few little laughs and exchanged glances later, Michael was able to put the car in drive, be an adult, and pretend he wasn’t in love with a guy who he couldn’t be with.

-

“Michael!”

Michael dropped the hoe at the sound of Mrs. Elms’ scream, bolting towards the car that had just erratically pulled up. She didn't even turn it off as she threw open the door and stumbled to him. She was a plump, elderly woman with graying hair that she wore in a long plait down her back every single day he had known her. Today, the plait was undone.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeding off her frantic energy and becoming stressed himself. She hung onto his arms, catching her breath. He couldn’t understand how she’d been out of breath when it took at least twenty minutes to drive here from the entrance of town. He still held onto her. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t‒ I don’t‒ Have you heard the news?” she asked, shaking her head. He shook his head. He had never been so confused in his damn life.

“Mrs. Elms, what’s going on?” Michael said. She took a deep, heavy breath and then looked up at him.

“The dead are on their feet,” she said. Michael froze. He waited for her to say she was joking even though she was never one to make jokes like that. “I don’t know what’s happening. I just… I went into town and it felt normal, but people were chatting and Mary stopped me on the street to ask if I’d heard. She told me that there were sightings of the dead rising and-and, oh, she showed me a video and it was downright horrible.”

“I don’t understand,” Michael said. She shook her head.

“Then big military trucks appeared out of nowhere. I hadn’t even made it to the grocer!” she exclaimed, “They were telling people to go back into their homes because of what was happening. Take shelter and all that. But I think it was too late.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I saw one with my own two eyes, Michael,” Mrs. Elms’ said, again losing her breath, “I rushed home as soon as I could to make sure you were still okay. We gotta take shelter, son.” 

“I-I don’t get it. What’s going on? It’s like zombies? Like, from movies and stuff?” Michael asked. He couldn’t rationalize what she was saying. It didn’t make sense in his mind. She nodded.

“Oh, it was horrible.”

“Okay, it’s okay. We’re gonna be okay,” Michael promised, nodding his head as he pulled her into a hug. She was panicked, but it was going to be okay. He could take care of them, he knew he could. She took him in when things were bad for him and now that things were bad in the world‒if she was right‒then he could take care of her. “Please, just calm down.”

Michael led her inside and made her a cup of tea and instantly started searching. He found proof of everything she’d said and even a president issued message telling people that the military would be coming to take care of it. Michael didn’t really believe that and decided he would just protect him and Mrs. Elms and that was it. He could do that.

He spent the next few hours barricading the windows and doors, only going outside once more to grab his machete from the shed. He decided he would venture out for food and other things the next morning when it would be safest.

Except, when he woke up, the house was empty.

While none of the barricades seemed to be moved, Mrs. Elms was gone. He called for her and got no reply. He searched and came up with nothing. It stressed him out more and more until he eventually found himself borderline hysterical. He’d given himself one job, simply to protect her, and he’d failed already.

It was eight hours after sunrise when he found that she’d died under her bed. The only logical thing he could come up with was that she’d panicked so much that she hid there and then the panic led to either a heart attack or a stroke or something he didn’t even know about. His hysteria turned into grief sooner than he’d anticipated.

Michael laid there on the ground with her stiff body for hours, trying to think of what to do next. Things were getting worse and now he was alone. What the fuck was he supposed to do? What was the point anymore? He’d barely had the fucking chance to understand what was going on and now he was alone. This was bullshit. Someone too powerful was playing a very, very cruel joke on him.

When night fell again, Mrs. Elms stirred.

“Mrs. Elms?” he whispered, watching her stir. It was slow and disturbing in the darkness. Hope flooded through them that she was okay and he wouldn’t have to go through whatever was to come alone. But Michael wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t a happy ending. 

Mrs. Elms turned towards him, eyes glazed over and baring her teeth. She hissed and made a low, animalistic groan. Michael’s bottom lip quivered. This was what was left of the only family he’d ever known. This is what it had come to. And, somehow, it got even worse. Whatever this was didn’t even need you to be infected. Everyone already was.

It was airborne.

“Oh, God,” Michael whined. He’d never felt so helpless and childish in his life. He didn’t want to deal with this. He wished it was like a spider and, if he just turned his head, the problem would scurry off for someone else to deal with. But it wasn’t and he couldn’t because she was getting closer and reaching for him. For the first time, he was scared of her.

It took longer than he would ever admit. It was more brutal than he would ever like to think about. He was quite sure he blacked it out, in fact, since the next thing he knew he was burying a badly mutilated version of his last family member in the backyard while covered in her blood.

-

“Alex!”

The panic that built-in Michael’s chest was too familiar, too painful. After their kiss, Michael and Alex had stopped going into town so much. It made it easier to deal with their agreement whenever they weren’t forced to be alone. But they used the last of their lighters and Michael was convinced that if he had to stare at Max try to rub two sticks together to light a fire for any longer he would lose it. So the two of them went into town.

Michael went into the little convenience store and filled his bag with lighters and bandaids and then suddenly he was alone. He called for Alex, searched for him, and consistently came up with nothing. He tried to keep calm at first, but how could he? Alex was gone.

“Alex!” he screamed. Michael couldn’t care less about what he might attract by being loud. It didn’t matter as long as he found Alex. 

This wasn’t fair. He couldn’t lose him like this. He would never forgive himself if he brought him out and then never saw him again. Or, worse, saw him again and he wasn’t alive. That sounded like torture. He finally found someone he wanted to be with and he wasn’t going to get the chance.

“Alex!” Michael continued to scream, feeling his eyes building with water as he continued to walk through the vacated street. He was in the middle of town, but instead it was full of ransacked buildings, abandoned cars, and trash. Up the street, there was a military base that had also since been abandoned. That felt like a good place to head when searching for a military man.

But the idea that he’d gone without telling Michael was concerning.

There was a different kind of loneliness that came when someone you care about vanished into thin air. It was something that Michael knew in his bones, even if the first time had only lasted so many hours, and it ached. It was worry that never ended, suffocation that never actually killed him, fear that warped the mind.

A shaky breath squeezed out of Michael’s lungs and he had to stop, grabbing a lamp post and trying to steady himself. However, that didn’t really work as fat tears started to fall over his cheeks. He knew, logically, that this wasn’t good. He was making himself vulnerable for any fucker who might’ve heard him or caught his scent. But he couldn’t pull himself up.

“Alex!” he cried out one last time. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Alex's voice hissed out of nowhere. Air shoved back into Michael’s chest so fast that it made him breathless all over again. His panic drained and left him lightheaded. Alex was looking at him like he was crazy, but Michael didn’t care. He relaxed against the lamp post. “Are-are you crying?”

“You can’t do that. You can’t just leave. You have people that-that care about you now, you can’t just leave,” Michael vented, shaking his head. Alex stared at him for a moment, jaw tense. He gave a quick scan around the area first before taking a step towards Michael.

“Okay, just-just stop crying. I’m here, I didn’t leave,” Alex promised, grabbing Michael and pulling him into his chest. Michael buried his face into Alex’s neck and hung onto his waist. Alex’s slim fingers weaved through Michael’s curls, shushing him softly. “I didn’t leave, I was just looking around.”

“You didn’t tell me, you can’t do that, you scared the shit out of me,” Michael breathed, relaxing as Alex’s nails scratched at his scalp. “You can’t do that. You just can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered. He held him for a little while longer, until his breathing evened again, before he whispered, “I found something, though. I think you’ll like it.”

Michael didn’t let go. “What’d you find?”

Alex grabbed ahold of his neck and used his thumb to urge his jaw up to look him in the eye. Michael obeyed easily. There was something about Alex that he couldn’t say no to. Looking at him like this and feeling like he did, he wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Fuck the current state of the world‒that gave him all the more reason to make the most of the time he had left. He didn’t, though.

“Come see,” Alex said softly, combing through his hair and then using his thumb to wipe away any stray tears, “Please don’t cry over me anymore.”

“Don’t fucking scare me and I won’t,” Michael shot back. Alex smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I promise. Now get your fancy knives and c’mon.”

Michael stayed close to Alex as he led the way. Even though Alex was fine and here, residual anxiety still stayed in his stomach and his fingers were still shaking. He wondered if Alex would hug him again or if he could just go home. Instead, he just went along with wherever Alex was taking him.

They made it to the abandoned makeshift military base that lasted all of a week after everything went down. Alex seemed to know just how to get inside and led Michael by the hand through the dark hallway with a dull flashlight. Eventually, Alex stopped walking and Michael stepped right up behind him.

“What is it?”

“A hospital-grade generator,” Alex said, a light air in his voice. Michael gulped slightly and grabbed a fist full of Alex’s shirt.

“You mean…”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed, “Running water.”

It took about an hour to get the massive fucking generator into the bed of the truck, but it served as a fantastic distraction. Michael was able to calm down enough from his freakout that he felt comfortable enough to drive, albeit very slowly. 

“Mrs. Elms went missing,” Michael admitted halfway through the drive. He didn’t bother providing much more information and Alex didn’t ask. Instead, he put his hand on his thigh and squeezed.

When they got back to the farm, exhaustion had all but taken over Michael’s system. He had lots of practice in pushing past that point and that’s what he did, but he knew he was going to sleep for an absurd amount of time. He couldn’t wait.

“Oh my God,” Liz said as she walked outside, coming up behind Isobel who was already heading towards Michael. He all but collapsed against her. “I’m gonna go get the guys and we’ll help you unload it, oh my God.”

“In the next couple of days, we’ll go do a gas run so we can keep it going. But for right now, it should last a couple of days,” Alex said proudly.

“You’re a fucking genius, Alex,” Liz praised. Michael heard the smack of a cheek kiss before Liz ran back inside to get Max, Kyle, and Maria to help. He stayed firmly in Isobel’s arms, his head feeling heavier by the second.

“Are you okay?” Isobel asked, stroking his hair. He didn’t answer. She squeezed him tighter.

When Alex’s fingers gently touched the small of his back, he jumped.

“Sorry,” Alex said softly, “If you wanna go inside and lay down, we can take care of it. I know… I know you’re probably tired.”

“Yeah, go lay down,” Isobel agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before gently pushing him away. She forced a smile and patted his cheek. He was too drained to reciprocate and simply took the offer he was given.

It was hard to describe how mentally fucked he felt just from thinking Alex had disappeared for thirty minutes. He assumed he probably would’ve felt that way if any of his group had disappeared, but it had happened so fast that it was basically emotional whiplash. His body weighed 50lbs heavier because of it.

Michael laid in bed for what felt like an hour, listening to his friends all talk and discuss how to get it out of the truck and where to put it and how they’ll use it. He heard them discuss that it’s probably best that they save it for purely showers and mass cooking once a week.

“What about coffee?”

“Oh, fuck, we can have real coffee again.”

“Okay, we can spare enough for coffee.”

“Fine, fine, bathing, a full meal, and coffee.”

Michael felt guilty he wasn’t down there helping, but his body felt like dead weight. He was also logical enough that the guilt stemmed from the still heavy feeling in his gut. That knowledge didn’t make him feel any less guilty.

Everyone came back inside eventually, the soft patter of feet and the hum of voices that filled the bottom floor comforting him. He laid in a ball on his bed, still completely clothed down to his shoes still being securely on his feet. However, the thump in his chest was calm and he was able to lay partially comatose in bed.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice said softly as the door creaked open. Michael didn’t have it in him to turn around completely, but he stretched out his leg to show he was awake and listened. The door closed and Alex walked further inside. “I reset the well pump and the water heater. We should have hot, running water in about twenty minutes. Everyone agreed that we should get the first ones since we found it.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed, still not opening his eyes. Then the bed shifted and Alex began pulling the shoes off Michael’s feet. 

“I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t even think that you’d notice I was gone. We were already on completely opposite sides of the store and I saw that fucking tank outside and it reminded me of the base. I knew they had a generator and I knew where it was, so I went to see if anyone already took it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first, I really didn’t think you’d notice,” Alex explained, peeling the socks off Michael’s feet, “But… thank you for noticing. I’m sorry I stressed you out and basically gave you a fucking panic attack and drained you, but I’m not sorry that I realized you care about me. Sorry that it took that much for me to notice, but… I’m kinda stupid when it comes to stuff like that.”

“It’s okay,” Michael said, his stomach tensing for a completely different reason, “I just need a nap.”

“Yeah, but,” Alex said softly. Suddenly, he was higher up on the bed and his fingers pressed into Michael’s hip. “Don’t you want a warm shower?”

“You can take one first,” Michael said. Alex laughed a breathy little laugh.

“You’re kinda stupid about noticing somethings too,” he said. That was enough to get him to open his eyes and look over his shoulder at Alex. His face was worn and tired and covered in stubble, but his eyes were kind and his smile was soft. Alex pinched his hip gently. “Come shower with me.”

“What?” Michael asked, suddenly far more awake than any amount of caffeine could’ve made him. Alex smiled even wider.

“Save water, save electricity,” Alex suggested, shrugging his shoulder as if this wasn’t a massive thing.

“I thought you… I thought we…” Michael said. Alex sighed softly.

“We don’t know when this is going to stop or if it’s ever going to stop. Being here in this house is the calmest I’ve seen it. I feel like I’m wasting time not being with you and… Well, I feel like we’ve already gotten close enough to be a fucking hindrance towards each other, so why not go all the way?” Alex explained. Michael turned around to face him, his heart pounding in his chest all over again. “If you want, obviously. I don’t wanna push.”

“You want me?” he asked, ignoring how stupid he felt saying it.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind it,” he laughed, his hand laying on Michael’s cheek, “Obviously, normal relationship roles are a little arduous right now, but I would like to be with you in, like, a non-stressful way if that’s possible. If it doesn’t work, I don’t want it to cost us our lives, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Michael said, nodding.

“So, um… Shower?”

“Yes. Yes, please, yes,” Michael agreed. Alex smiled, scraping his nails over Michael’s scalp.

The plus side to being in the master bedroom was that they didn’t have to broadcast shit as they slipped into the bathroom. Alex turned on the shower and watched patiently as it took a few seconds for the well pump to make it all the way to the second-floor bathroom. When it started pouring, slowly picking up water pressure, Alex smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.

Michael gulped but welcomed Alex into his space against the counter. Alex breathed slow and leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. His eyes fell closed and he unwrapped his arms from around himself to, instead, put them around Alex. 

A soft hum buzzed in his throat as Alex’s cold fingertips slipped beneath his shirt. Everything seemed to move slowly as they undressed one another, shirts first before working on jeans. Alex stripped him of all his knives very carefully. They were both standing in nothing but briefs once the bathroom filled with steam.

“Is this okay? This isn’t too fast?” Alex asked. Michael managed a little smile and shook his head, his nose bumping against Alex’s.

“What’s too fast when the world could end tomorrow?”

“You’ve got me there, love,” Alex whispered, sending a shiver up Michael’s spine without any warning. Alex pushed his thumb beneath the waistband of Michael’s briefs. “Let’s not waste any water.”

Kissing Alex while naked under a steady stream of hot water was unparalleled. In fact, he almost felt normal. As long as Alex was kissing him, there was no apocalypse. Everyone was alive, the crops were thriving, he was happy. 

“I still need a nap,” Michael whispered in the middle of it all. Alex snickered and shook his head, grabbing a bottle of shampoo.

“We’ll nap soon, I promise,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss over his heart before using his fingers to untangle Michael’s hair. When he began washing it, Michael felt blessed.

“You’ll nap with me?”

“I would love to.”

Michael loved him, plain and simple, and, even though he wasn’t sure why he deserved this, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

-

"Survival of the fittest, Alex," Alex grumbled to himself as he looked over the disaster plan his father had somehow required, "As military men, we're trained to survive."

Three weeks had passed since things went to shit and Alex couldn't remember why he hated his childhood so much. This was worse than anything back then. Now, his father seemed borderline insane, but what could he say? Alex couldn't tell him no whenever he was the one keeping him alive.

“Son.”

Instinct and fear snapped Alex’s body at attention, chin up and shoulders back as he faced his father who came through the door of the bunker. However, his father was the one that didn’t seem to be all there. His eyes were half-lidded and his face was pale, face dotted with sweat. His hand was clasped around his forearm and his body weakened, falling against the door frame.

“Dad?” 

Jesse took a deep, heavy breath. Which is when Alex noticed the blood.

“Is that…” Alex trailed off. Jesse huffed again.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry, it was just a scratch,” Jesse said, nodding slowly. His hand slipped down just enough for Alex to see that it was indeed much more than a scratch. It was a scratch from one of them.

Alex smiled.

“Wipe that look off your face before I do it for you,” Jesse snapped, ever the hateful man despite the scratch. Alex nodded and did as he was told, but he could feel the excitement pulsing through his veins. He knew it was wrong, he really did, but he couldn’t help it. This was it. There was no getting out of this. A few more hours and the years and years of torture would be over.

So Alex sat like the good man he was. He gave his father water and cover him up when he was cold. Alex waited. He waited until Jesse Manes passed out and then waited a little longer to hear him take his last breath. Then he smiled again.

With machete in hand, Alex paced in front of the couch. He knew any moment now would be his moment. The moment. A borderline hysterical giggle bubbled out of him at the thought. It was going to be over. It was going to be over.

It was almost an hour to the minute whenever that low, guttural sound came from Jesse Manes’ body. For a minute, it had Alex convinced that he’d survived. Leave it to him to be the one to survive. But he wasn’t. He was dead. Really, really dead.

“Nice try, Dad,” Alex said.

He didn’t have it in him to care whenever his father’s head was so bashed in that it became one with the couch cushions, nor did he care when he dropped the disaster plan in the trash on his way out. Fuck it.

He could survive on his own.

-

Michael woke up to being squeezed gently and fingers threading through his chest hair. A body was pressed up behind his, touching him head to toe with a nose pressed into his neck so he could feel them breathing. No kisses, no ulterior motives, just… this.

"Alex," Michael murmured, stretching his legs out. 

Alex scratched over his chest gently, taking a deep breath. His knee slowly wedged between Michael's thighs and locking them together with a foot to his shin. Michael smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable.

"We should probably get up soon," Alex whispered against his neck. 

"No," Michael whined. Alex laughed softly and gave him a little squeeze. He didn't know the words to give that would explain how he never wanted to move. They lived in a word where every day could go horribly wrong. He wanted to soak up every calm, sweet moment he could. "Never."

"We'll have to eat eventually."

"Kiss me?” Michael asked instead. With a small laugh, Alex pushed himself over Michael’s shoulder to just that.

Slowly, slightly clumsily, they got Michael on his back with Alex hovering above him and kissing him senseless. There was something weirdly romantic about not having a single knife strapped to him and being kissed like they had all the time in the world. He traced a finger up and down Alex’s spine and wondered if it felt just as special to him.

“Who’s the last guy you were with?” Michael asked against his lips. Alex didn’t pull too far away, their noses still touching.

“Oh, we’re going there? Okay, uh… His name was Tank Cahill,” Alex informed him. Michael sputtered a laugh.

“Tank? You slept with someone named Tank? Please tell me your kidding,” Michael laughed. Alex joined him, shaking his head.

“God, I wish I was. Guy had a big ego and nothing to show for it,” Alex said, “What about you? Who was the last person you hooked up with?”

“Um… Fuck, I don’t remember,” Michael laughed, “Too long.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so…” Alex promised, tracing his knuckle over Michael’s jaw. It urged him to close his eyes which simply got him kissed again. Despite everything, this was good. This was normal in the best way.

“Good.”

Stupidly and embarrassingly, the relationship he managed to create with Alex in the middle of a goddamn apocalypse might’ve been the healthiest one he’d ever had. They talked, ate dinner together, worked together without problems. There was honesty, there was trust, there was family. 

“Told you,” Maria sang softly, hip checking him as she passed him with a basket of corn that she, Liz, and Isobel had gathered from the field. 

“Told me what?” Michael asked, but he was already smiling. Isobel’s arms snaked around him from behind.

“That you and Alex are madly in love,” Isobel said. Michael’s eyes widened and tried to look at her, which was hard when her head was leaning on the back of his. 

“Uh, I recall saying that you guys should bang, but close enough. Point is, I was right,” Maria mused.

“You guys are actually the worst,” Michael laughed. Two hands pressed to each one of his cheeks. One belonged to Isobel and the other was Liz’s.

“Oh, he’s blushing!” Liz cooed. He had to shake them off to keep them from squeezing his cheeks too hard. But he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “You really like him, huh?”

“Will you guys stop?” he asked. The prodding and laughter that followed felt like a resounding ‘no’. “C’mon, it’s not that serious.”

“Uh, I disagree. Alex doesn’t even sleep in the attic at all anymore, haven’t even seen him go up there in like two weeks,” Maria pointed out.

“So? We’re adults.”

“Adults who go to bed early and sleep in to have the maximum amount of gooey time,” Isobel said with a baby voice. Michael laughed a little harder.

“We’re just… good. We’re good together. I think we’re just… good. Good, good, good,” Michael listed. The cooing continued.

“I can’t believe you’re so happy during hell,” Isobel mused. Michael sighed, dropping his knife to turn around to face them.

“Look, I haven’t seen a fucker in days, I’m eating good, I have a family, and a hot guy in my bed. Life is arguably better than before,” Michael admitted. He liked the way they smiled at him.

“It has been pretty good,” Liz noted.

“Honestly, I’ve been getting kinda bored,” Isobel sighed, “You, Alex, and Liz are the only ones that go out into town. Max and Kyle and Alex and Maria hunt. I do laundry and cook and… that’s it. I’m a depressing housewife even long after gender roles don’t matter.”

“If you wanna come hunting with us, I’m sure we could show you the ropes,” Maria suggested. Isobel scrunched up her nose.

“No, I don’t wanna kill anything,” she insisted. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Okay, well, what do you wanna do? Because there’s nothing really super fun to do anymore,” Michael pointed out. She sighed dramatically.

“Couldn’t we, like, I don’t know, go into town and get a board game or something? I’m so bored,” Isobel pouted. Michael took a deep breath.

“Yeah, me ‘n Alex will head out in the morning,” he decided. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“I wanna come.”

“Izzy…”

“No, I wanna come. I want to get out of this damn house for a change.”

“It’s dangerous out there,” Liz tried. Isobel groaned.

“You go. You’ve all gone! Everyone else has left this place except for me. I’ve been here since this whole thing started,” she complained.

Michael sighed and exchanged a look with both Liz and Maria. “Fine, I’ll talk to Alex and Kyle.”

“Why Kyle? He isn’t the boss of me,” Isobel said.

“Yeah, but he’s your boy-whatever and I’m sure he’d like to come,” Michael pointed out. She scrunched up her nose but nodded.

“Fine. I’m excited!”

After an annoying logic-talk with Alex, Kyle, and Isobel after dinner, they decided they would leave in the morning, head to the Walmart in town, and grab a few games and see what else they could find for entertainment. Considering Michael, Alex, and Liz had killed most of the fuckers there, it felt like a safe place to go. Besides, Isobel was right. It was getting boring. Not really for Michael since he Alex as entertainment, but for everyone else. The thought made him feel so ridiculous that he had to fight a smile.

“What are you smiling at?” Alex asked softly as they headed up the stairs. 

“Nothing,” Michael said, “I just feel lucky.”

Which is how Michael ended up pressed against the door and warm hands grabbing at his hips.

“I don’t know what I did, but I promise to do it again,” Michael said, a helpless giggle fumbling out of him as Alex pressed in harder.

Alex flipped the lock of the bedroom door and slowly began leading him to the bed. He fell back onto the mattress, smiling up at the ceiling as Alex crawled on top of him. Those painfully skilled fingers danced up his chest and the heels of his hands pressed beneath his collarbones.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” Alex said randomly. Michael marveled up at him and grabbed his thighs, rubbing gently as he thought.

It took a moment to think of a good something and, staring up at Alex, he felt safe enough to say whatever. Besides, the outside world was fucked. What else mattered other than this?

“I actually met my mom,” he said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “Remember how I said my parents gave me up when I was a baby? I usually just tell people I’ve never met them, but I actually found my mom whenever I was 16 and homeless.”

“What happened?” Alex asked softly. Michael shrugged.

“She basically fucking ran the other way.”

Alex fell off his lap to lay beside him, leg still strewn across his hips. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really care. I already knew she didn’t want me. Besides, it’s how I even came to this town in the first place and found that the Elms’ were looking for a live-in farmhand. Was a blessing in disguise,” Michael said. Alex gave a little smile and put his hand on Michael’s cheek, his thumb grazing over his lips.

“You are the most positive person I know.”

“You tell me that too often.”

With a shrug, Alex gave him a soft and slow kiss. It ended with him nudging his nose against his. “My dad hit me.”

That took all the smiles out of Michael and he looked at him with worried eyes, his hand stilling against Alex’s waist. While Michael had suffered a lot at the hands of many assholes in his life, the idea of it being his biological parent sounded so much worse. 

“Oh my God, Alex, are you okay?” 

Alex let out a soft laugh, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine, it was years ago. My dad’s gone so it doesn’t matter.”

“It always matters, that shit sticks with you,” Michael pointed out. Alex’s hand never left his cheek even as he sighed.

“Which is why I told you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but I didn’t know how to. So… there it is,” Alex said. Michael frowned and nudged his nose against Alex’s.

“You can tell me anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Apocalypse Now is a pretty bad movie,” Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes, but it was enough to get a smile out of him.

“But Marlon Brando is good in everything.”

“We aren’t talking about him,” Alex corrected, leaning forward and giving him a kiss, “God, that feels good to get off my chest. The thing about my dad, not Marlon Brando.”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Michael mused, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yeah, I kinda love you, so I figure it’s worth it,” Alex said in the most nonchalant tone that Michael almost missed it. He propped himself up on his elbow.

“You love me?”

“Kinda,” Alex teased, smiling even bigger now.

“Kinda,” Michael mocked, his heart swelling in his chest. He felt light-headed, but that didn’t matter because he was with Alex and that was all that fucking mattered. “I kinda love you too.”

“Good.”

Yes, this was definitely better than things were before.

-

"Can't we just never move?"

"Sorry, but no."

Still, Alex rolled on top of Michael and slowly kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until it didn't take any effort to open his eyes. Oh, how lovely life would be if this was it? It made him wish that Mrs. and Mr. Elms’ were still alive so he could show them how he found someone all by himself. He wanted Alex to get showered in all the love they gave him. 

“Wake up!” Isobel shouted from the other side of the door, slamming her fists against it. Michael groaned and threw his head back while Alex just laughed against his chest.

“We’re up!” he called, “We’ll be out in a minute!”

“Hurry! I want to leave!” Isobel added. Groaning, Michael complied.

The two of them dressed relatively quickly, making sure to have easy access to their weapons and flashlights just in case. Michael was in the middle of choosing a good-sized bag whenever Alex got on his knees and began strapping Michael’s sheath to his shin for him. His mind filled with comments to make but decided to say none of them in case it made him stop. There was something weirdly sexy about that one little act. Not as sexy as when Alex was actually sharpening his knives, but close.

Eventually, they were ready to leave, but Alex stopped him before he could walk out of the door. He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and kissed him like it might be the last.

“What was that for?” Michael asked.

“Just in case. I love you.” 

Michael smiled. “I love you too.”

Alex, Michael, Kyle, and Isobel all squished themselves into the truck. Isobel had suggested taking Max’s SUV because it was larger, but Michael said that he knew his truck best and they would need that in case of a sticky situation. They found that hard to argue that.

Then they were off.

The drive to town was quiet just like it always was. Or, it would’ve been, but Isobel kept trying to find things to talk about as if to prove just how bored she was. Alex’s fingernails dug into Michael’s thigh as a very silent promise that he would kill her if she didn’t shut up.

“Izzy, look, we’re just gonna go in, grab a few things, and get out. I don’t want to be out here longer than I have to. I don’t want to be worried about you if anything happens,” Michael told her. 

“I feel like you’re being sexist.”

“We aren’t,” Kyle jumped in, thankfully, “We just all have more experience with fighting these things firsthand.”

“You keep calling them things,” Isobel said softly, “They’re people.”

“No, not anymore. They’re something else entirely and that mindset will get you killed,” Alex corrected. She made a noise of protest, but Alex shook his head. “I watched every man I worked with that didn’t flee turn into one of them. They’re deadly and you shouldn’t give them any sympathy. You have to be ruthless.”

Michael laced his fingers with Alex’s.

The rest of the ride into town consisted of Alex telling everything he knew about the fuckers to Isobel. He rambled off symptoms and how it took over, using his father as an example. He even included some things he hadn’t even told Michael. He hadn’t known the government had been working on a cure before shit got bad and hadn’t found one in time. Also, they apparently knew it was coming before anyone else did. Figures. 

“Basically, go for the head. That’s the only way to do it,” Alex finished as the truck pulled to a stop outside of Walmart.

“Cool, I can do that,” Isobel agreed.

“The hope is that you won’t have to,” Michael added. He turned the ignition off, but left the keys in it just in case. 

“Okay, so we just go in, find what we can, and get out. No stalling,” Kyle said. They all nodded. “Let’s go.”

Michael and Alex went in first just to scout out the front. While they had killed the ones in there before, it wasn’t impossible that another group had gotten inside. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be empty, so Isobel and Kyle entered.

“I feel like we’re on a top-secret mission,” she commented, holding onto Kyle’s arm.

“Yeah, to find you a fucking board game,” Michael snorted.

They walked further, looking around constantly as they made their way towards the toy section. Isobel made a happy little squeak and started choosing a few to bring. They all stuffed their bags and, within five minutes, they were ready to go. 

It was then and only then that they realized they were not alone.

“Go check the other isle,” Kyle whispered to Michael, jutting his head towards the sound they’d just heard. Michael nodded and slowly made his way over while the three of them froze. He held his machete out first and ever so carefully peered around the edge. His stomach sunk as he saw it was more than just one fucker. It was a ton.

“Run,” Michael said unceremoniously, “Run!”

There were too many. There was no way they could fight them all, the only solution was to run and hope for the best. They all bolted.

It was too much too fast and they somehow got separated which wasn’t good. Michael couldn’t see any of his family anywhere after a few minutes and that only proved to reignite the panic he thought he’d gotten rid of. He wanted to stop and look, but the number of fuckers just seemed to keep on growing. They were coming from everywhere, in all directions, and it just made no sense. 

“Alex! Isobel! Kyle!” he yelled, trying to find some way of escape. There had to be somewhere. They had to be safe somewhere.

This was too much too fast. Was the Earth simply playing a cruel trick on him? The minute he feels like everything is too good to be true, it all plummets. He finally found someone he loved, people he loved and people who loved him. He’d found his family and now this. They had to be okay.

He knew they would be okay. 

Michael swung his machete like it was a sword, cutting into skulls and necks and flesh. He was happy to diminish the number around him if it meant making less chaos for Isobel, Kyle, and Alex. He kept yelling to call the attention towards himself. He yelled until he was hoarse, he fought until the fuckers were climbing over their limp peers to get to him.

He’d calculated well enough that he was able to have them back him towards the bathroom. He needed to catch his breath before he fought more. With one more swing, Michael bolted into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, hoping it would hold as he was engulfed into the pitch-black room.

He leaned against the wall to catch his breath for less than a second before he heard similar panting coming from deeper inside the bathroom. He froze.

“Hello?” Michael called softly, his throat aching as he felt for his flashlight. He flicked it on and swung it around before it landed on a face.

Alex’s face.

“Oh, thank god,” Michael breathed, feeling content despite the fact that Alex looked scared and stressed and pained all at once. He walked closer, but Alex just shook his head.

“No,” he said, “No, stay away.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked. Alex’s bottom lip just quivered and he shook his head. And, for the second time, Michael’s stomach dropped. He slowly moved the flashlight down, down, down, before spotting the impossible-to-miss bite on Alex’s calf. His whole body froze.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, don’t worry,” Alex said, voice shaky and weak, but still Alex’s, “Just… make sure you leave before it happens, okay? I don’t want that to be the last thing you see of me.”

Michael’s throat ached from something else entirely now and tears pooled in his eyes. A cruel joke indeed. However, looking back at Alex’s face, he refused to give up. He barely had a few months with Alex. he wasn’t giving him up this easy.

“Are you showing any symptoms?” Michael asked, slowly reeling his emotions back. 

“What?” Alex breathed.

“Are you showing any symptoms? Feeling clammy, pale, lightheaded?” Michael listed, walking closer despite Alex’s warning.

“Not yet,” Alex answered slowly, “Michael, I don’t‒ There’s no cure. You can’t just‒”

“No!” Michael shot back, shaking his head. He pulled off his jacket and moved even closer, putting the flashlight in his mouth as he tied it as tight as he could right below Alex’s knee. “I am going to do whatever it takes. If you’re not showing symptoms yet, then it’s soon enough that maybe it hasn’t gotten too deep in your bloodstream.”

“Michael…” Alex said warily. Michael knelt and unstrapped the sharp, clean knife from his calf. 

“Once we get back to Kyle, he can fix the rest, but I need to get this off of you,” Michael said. It felt weird calling Alex’s leg this and needing it off, but his options were limited and he’d rather try his all than let Alex die like this.

“Michael,” Alex said again. Michael looked up at him.

“What?” Michael asked. He searched his face in the dim light and was beginning to think maybe Alex didn’t want to live. He waited patiently and hoped he did.

“I’m scared,” Alex admitted, his voice soft, “I don’t wanna die.” Michael gulped and nodded, grabbing Alex’s calloused hand and pressing a kiss to it. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. Alex put both hands on Michael’s shoulders to brace himself, already beginning to take labored breaths in preparation.

“No.”

“Do you trust me?” Michael decided instead, looking up to Alex one last time before he changed everything. Alex stared him in the eye without hesitation.

“Yes.”

With matching deep breaths, Michael began to cut beneath the makeshift tourniquet and tried to ignore the screaming. He had to ignore the screaming. Alex was the best thing that had ever happened to him, including all the normal years of his life. He refused to give up on that.

He refused to lose someone else.

He refused.

[km-davidson]

kaden-kingsman​:

Kyle,

May 2nd, 1945

Is it true? That awful face has been staring back at me all morning from the front page of the New York Times. How I hate to have him in our house–even if only in a photograph. They say the war will still continue but that Berlin has almost been taken. Oh, how I hope that is the case. The bastard’s gone–though some here don’t believe it, and I must admit it sounds a bit too good to be true–but if anyone deserves to be sent to Hell for the rest of eternity it is surely him. I pray that such a substantial loss will mean the end of you needing to be abroad is near. I just miss you so. How I want to hold you in my arms and not let go.

I could go on for pages about how I love you, how I cannot wait until you’re home, all about how the twins are growing big and strong as we wait for you to come home… For the last one I splurged, went and bought new film for my camera, and sent along a few photos of the both of them. Trying to get them to stay still? A nightmare, truly, but I hope their faces will be able to keep you going until you return. Four months since you left. This time, though I know to be cautious with my hopes, I sincerely have faith that you’ll have returned to us within the next four months. 

I’ve heard rumors from my father that some might be extended if the European front truly does come to a close, sent off to fight in Asia instead. Lord, how I pray that isn’t the case. You’ve fought hard for four years now. Done more for your country and the world than far more would ever dream… If his information is accurate–and oh how we know it often is–no matter the pay, no matter what is offered, if there is a way for you to come home, please come home. I know I’m meant to be strong, to not focus on worrisome topics such as this, and if necessary I can continue to be strong and wait and wait… But I don’t want to. I know one woman’s desires pale in comparison to the needs of the world, but I’ve found myself becoming more selfish in regards to you, my love. I dream almost nightly of your return… I’m truly ready to greet you again in the waking hours as well.

I want you. I need you. I love you. I miss you.

Your Forever Loving Wife,

Kaden 

My wife,

May 1st, 1945

I’m not sure if it’s true but it happened. IT HAPPENED. HE IS DEAD. These damn radios are so loud, you can hear them from a mile away and some of the captains were informed that suspicions are being made that the monster has killed himself. Hitler is dead. HITLER IS DEAD.

When I hear of more news, I’ll write more, but if this is the case, I can’t wait to hold you once more. Your scent still lingers in my dreams. My heart yearns for you and it’s finally going to happen. We’ll finally be together with no more war. Please collect whatever article you can about it.

HE IS DEAD! My only regret is I couldn’t do it myself. 

Your husband,

Kyle

–––

My dear Kaden,

May 20th, 1945

Though I promised your birthday, I’ve learned I cannot make promises with such a terrible war continuing on. They’ve announced that those with available points are eligible to be honorably discharged back home and won’t have to stay in Austria. It’s a beautiful country, Kaden. Astounds me a monster such as Hitler could taint such a land. However, seeing as I used up my points for the twins, I won’t be one of the lucky men returning home quite yet. Don’t worry though, they have no need for me in the Pacific since I’m well liked here.

We pass our days drinking, mainly. I take a swim at the rivers, venture into the small towns. We play games of baseball to pass the time, and yes, your husband is the star player that others trade to get. It’s peaceful. It’s so hard for me to grasp because of everything that’s happened. How is it that peace is so unfamiliar? 

I keep the photos you’ve sent close to my heart always. Little Vera looks just like you. All the guys here say Mark’s a solid chap. He’s going to be as big and strong as the best. I dare say I’m jealous you get to fill your days with them. Know I’m there in spirit. 

I’ll let you know about any updates I hear from my side. You’d think with Germany surrendering, we’d be done. If only there were a bomb big enough to make them see the fight is over. They lost. I’m tempted to go and kill some Japs myself but I know better than to leave Austria. I’ll enjoy myself for once while in this dreaded land. I love you so much, my wife. I value your strength and patience with me. Thank you for being my light. You’ve been with me through it all and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for it.

Your husband,

Kyle

[junker-town]

U.S. Open 2017: 10 things watch for at Erin Hills

The U.S. Open can be golf’s most entertaining mess. Here are 10 things (and players) to watch for going into the 117th edition at Erin Hills.

Although the host USGA is trying to get away from it, for years the U.S. Open has marketed itself as “the toughest test in golf.” Whether your love it or hate it, it’s unique and has its own strong to quite strong identity. There will be frustration, yelling, anger, absurd drives, exquisite shots, and a major champion. Here are 10 things to watch and know for this week’s 117th edition at Erin Hills in Wisconsin.

Mad About Grass

The always entertaining wall-to-wall coverage of some course feature or controversy has centered around the high fescue grasses of Erin Hills this week. We always get something every U.S. Open, whether it’s the debate over “native sandy areas” at Pinehurst, wrecked greens at Chambers Bay, and now this in Wisconsin. It’s hilarious to watch, if you just keep a little perspective.

Kevin Na, of all people, ignited this year’s controversy on Sunday, when he posted an Instagram video ranting (maybe half-jokingly) about how thick the fescue was just off the fairways here.

Erin Hills is a great design course but the fescue is almost unplayable. BTW never found the ball. So don't hit it in there lol. straight hitters have a chance! #usopen #erinhills #mikedavis #lostball #usga

A post shared by Kevin Na (@kevinna915) on Jun 11, 2017 at 10:24am PDT

There’s fescue at British Opens and other American venues, but what made this different was how dense it was just off the fairway. It was basically a hazard — you’d struggle to find your ball and if you did, you might not be able to hit it more than a couple feet. The best case scenario was a hack out into the fairway maybe 40 yards or so. There was also the legitimate problem of the fescue being the most dense just off the fairway and thinner farther off of it — rewarding those who actually hit a worse shot that was more off line and into the thinner stuff.

So this grass became the talk of the championship and the USGA made it even more of a drama on Tuesday when they just started removing huge chunks of it while players were out practicing. It looked like a pretty significant alteration just 36 hours before the championship started.

They've listened to the complaints and chopping down the rough on the 4th. Make room in the compost bin #USOpen http://pic.twitter.com/XLwPaNsifp

— Iain Carter (@iaincartergolf) June 13, 2017

The USGA was adamant that this was part of a “prescribed plan” of maintenance and not some reaction to Na and other players saying it was too much. They cited heavy rains early in the week making it “lay down” and become even more dense.

So that led to a reaction to the reaction, with Rory McIlroy being the most vocal. Rory’s biggest issue was that these are the widest fairways — 60 yards in many spots — in the history of the U.S. Open and if you can't hit them, maybe you deserve to lose your ball or go into that stuff. And if you’re mad about it, you should go home.

In the end, the USGA removed chunks of the fescue and mowed it back on four holes. But the move looked panicky so close to the start of the major and that combined with player social media complaints to give us a big ol’ grass controversy that sucked up all the oxygen of the practice round days.

So be on the lookout for players trying to play out of that stuff and hollering about it when they do.

Air Phil 1

Unfortunately, it looks like Phil Mickelson is not going to make it to the U.S. Open. Phil said he needed a four-hour delay on Thursday in order to get from his daughter’s high school graduation to Wisconsin before his tee time. Thursday looks like the only definitively clear weather day, with a 0 percent chance of rain until late afternoon. So Phil will not even board his private jet to try and make the mad dash to Erin Hills, which is a real shame -- tracking Air Phil 1 all Thursday was going to be so much fun.

Here's how Phil is going to slide into Erin Hills next week. http://pic.twitter.com/rNOb1b5Hs9

— Kyle Porter (@KylePorterCBS) June 11, 2017

Phil’s unlikely arrival means this will be the first major without Mickelson or Tiger Woods since the 1994 Masters. We’ve accepted this “young” crop of superstars — Rory, Spieth, DJ, Day, Rickie, Hideki — as the changing of the guard awhile ago. But that’s a narrative you’re going to get this week with Tiger and Phil officially off the premises.

Pace and Space

The fescue may be a cause of what will become interminably long rounds. When players hit into it, it’s going to take time to find the ball or they will exhaust the allotted time they’re allowed to look before giving up and having to play another one. And if they do find it, they’re not going to advance it far and we’re going to be adding shots and adding time. This is also a course meant to be played in the wind, and if it’s up and blowing the way the USGA didn’t expect, then that’s going to add a ton of time too.

But that’s just a part of what will make these long rounds. A U.S. Open is always slow and deliberate -- it’s the “toughest test” for a reason and players always take an extra mental beat before playing a shot. This Erin Hills property, however, is going to make the physical challenge a demand too and probably have everyone moving a little slower.

Players on the ground are saying this may be the longest and most demanding walk they’ve had at a U.S. Open. Kevin Van Valkenburg of ESPN called the place “too big” on Wednesday.

My initial take on Erin Hills: Too much. Too big. 650 acres is an insane piece or property. Will be like walking 24 holes each round.

— Kevin Van Valkenburg (@KVanValkenburg) June 14, 2017

The biggest issue is the walk from green to tee, some of which are 200 yards. The course is extremely hilly and about an 8.5 to 9 mile walk -- an average pro round is usually in the 6 mile range. Justin Thomas measured that he took almost 20,000 steps during one of his practice rounds.

Now, you might scoff at theses millionaires having to walk a bit more and that’s fine. But play a U.S. Open at the same time in June heat and the 9-mile walk becomes a little different. And it’s going to slow things down — the USGA is allotting 4 hours and 52 minutes for threesomes the first two days. If that’s what they’re hoping for, expect rounds well in excess of five hours.

Rahmbo

A trendy pick to win this week is Jon Rahm. While he might not be the most mainstream name, it’s not exactly a longshot. The 22-year-old is likely the next superstar in golf and absolutely has a major in his future, and real soon. This time last year, he was winning low amateur honors at Oakmont. Now as a pro, he’s already worked his way into the top 10 in the world rankings, which is an astoundingly fast rise.

Rahm has the full 14-club game, but he’s been strongest tee-to-green this year. He’s second on Tour in strokes gained: tee-to-green, third in SG off-the-tee and second in SG total. Rahm is a world-class player and a big personality too. One of those facts you’ll hear every single broadcast to fill up the profile will be that the Spaniard learned English at Arizona State by listening to rap records.

So familiarize yourself with Jon Rahm. This venue sets up well for him and he’s a talent that will soon, if not already, be joining the cadre of DJ, Spieth, Rory, Day, and other more recognizable superstar names.

“Kettle Moraine”

The U.S. Open always bashes us over the head with some new word or term of art that we hear all week during the wall-to-wall coverage. Expect to hear a lot over these next four days about the Kettle Moraine, the geological name for this land formed by the collision of two glaciers. The “natural land movement” (another term you’re hearing a lot) is spectacular and should provide the players with lots of sloping and uneven lies, a different kind of test that maybe the modern player is not used to so much. The course architects hardly moved any dirt and relied on this natural topography. It’s visually stunning when a camera is able to capture the rolling terrain, which also apparently occurs within bunkers too.

So if you want to sound informed, or like an enormous dork, throw Kettle Moraine out there when watching with friends this week.

Is Rory ready?

This is Rory McIlroy’s best chance for a U.S. Open win since his 2011 runaway at Congressional. It’s all right there for him. It’s a long course, but wide enough to let him use the biggest weapon in his bag, the driver, as much as you’ll ever see at a U.S. Open. The rains that have pounded Erin Hills during practice days also play right into his hands. He admitted as much, saying he definitely wasn’t crying when he saw storms roll in on Monday. He’s also been adamant that he “loves” the course, which is usually half the battle at a U.S. Open, where players often psych themselves out of the tournament before they ever hit a competitive shot.

A long, soft course is where McIlroy thrives, hitting the high ball and making it stick right on top of the flag. Those were the exact conditions that led to his dominant 2011 U.S. Open win, which set records.

So he loves the course, the conditions are perfect, and the setup gives his biggest “skill,” as he will remind you is the word to describe his driving power, a huge advantage. What could go wrong? We’ve not seen much of Rory this year, and when we have, he’s been aggravating a rib injury that’s bothered him since January. He’s played just once since the Masters and in that event, The Players, he told us immediately he was having a back problem. Some argued he should have withdrawn but McIlroy played through all four rounds, got a scan, and then skipped every tournament between then and this week.

His former Ryder Cup captain and Irish friend, Paul McGinley, says he’s too rusty and not healthy enough to win this week. Rory insists there are no limitations on his swing. Given how the setup plays into his strengths, and the fact that we’re already without Phil and Tiger, here’s hoping Rory is full-go over four days at Erin Hills.

Rules drama

I want more rules drama. I need more rules drama.

The talking point coming into the championship was that the USGA needs a “clean week” after the mess of the prior two years. Chambers Bay had “broccoli” greens that they made almost unplayable and Oakmont’s final round became a circus when we didn’t know what Dustin Johnson’s actual score was and if he’d been assessed a penalty.

The USGA is the keeper of the rulebook in golf, and yet last summer they tripped over themselves multiple times in figuring out how to assess penalties in high profile moments. This year, they announced a change in how they set up their rules folks, with each group no longer getting a walking rules official for all 18 holes. Instead, an official is assigned a stationary spot on the course and responsible for a couple holes that he or she can hopefully master.

But that doesn’t mean there won’t be controversies or contentiousness. It’s never fun for the USGA or the players, but for everyone watching from afar, it’s always entertaining. Remember Twitter last year when DJ played the back nine not knowing his actual score? We need some rules drama.

A DJ Defense

Ben Hogan and Curtis Strange are the only players in history to go back-to-back at the U.S. Open. For many of the same reasons noted above with Rory, this course is a perfect setup for Dustin Johnson to join that exclusive club. And it’s not like he’s receded since he won at Oakmont a year ago -- he’s only gotten better. This will be his first major as world No. 1 after an unfortunate tumble at the Masters took him out of a tournament where he was the heavy favorite and gunning for his third straight win.

Going back-to-back is really hard, but DJ’s the favorite this week again for a reason and it would not be a surprise at all to see him holding the trophy again on Sunday.

The Players v. The USGA

No championship is more tense than the U.S. Open. The players simply don’t like the host organization and are now going on the record about it often. Just on Wednesday, Brendan Steele threw out this subtle jab to Golf Channel’s Ryan Lavner.

Not so at the U.S. Open, which is always rife with controversy and vitriol.

“And usually for good reason,” Brendan Steele said. “The USGA makes a lot of mistakes.”

During last year’s rules mess, Rory called the USGA “amateur hour,” Jordan Spieth said it was a joke, Rickie Fowler tagged them using words like “ridiculous” and “laughable.” That memorable screw-up just seemed to bring out what had been a quiet and seething player distaste for the USGA.

It’s a mix of factors — the tricks they’ve played with course setup, rules issues, perhaps money, as Geoff Shackelford noted on his podcast this week that players are mad not enough of the billion dollar deal between FOX and the USGA is coming their way.

At the start of the month, Adam Scott was happy to take a shot and we weren’t even at Erin Hills yet. “If their major pinnacle event for them requires courses to be the way they are then it doesn’t set a good example for every other bit of golf that they try to promote.”

This is a much more public spat now and one the USGA reportedly is trying to quell with better communication. But it’s juicy fun for us and absolutely something to watch for all week at Erin Hills. The USGA will take some body blows.

Tracer Time

The U.S. Open has become the Super Bowl of ProTracer, that shot tracking technology that everyone loves and has changed golf coverage. FOX’s Shane Bacon likened it to the first-down line in football. But the cost and nature of a golf broadcast spread out over 18 holes has made it hard to have ubiquitous tracer, which is what the people often want and demand.

FOX will have either ProTracer or their own tracking technology (the side-by-side screen with the live-arc of a shot from an overheard map of the hole) on all 18 holes. They also get tracer out there in the fairway for approach shots too.

"Shot of his life." #USOpen https://t.co/tuQqgun5d1

— U.S. Open (USGA) (@usopengolf) June 20, 2016

FOX is not out on the PGA Tour each week like -- this is their one big golf event and they pour everything they have into it.

The coverage was a mess in their first year at Chambers Bay, but the problems seemed correctable and and big pile of smaller issues (except for one big Shark). Oakmont was a massive improvement and this year should be even crisper. I can’t wait to watch hours and hours of it over the next four days.

[studentsofshield]

2015 Comics Holiday Gift Guide Part 1 - For the Movie Fans

By Vincent Faust

(This was originally published on December 14, 2015)

Happy holidays! Whether you’re a Catholic, Jew, an observant of Kwanzaa or simply a standard slave to consumerist culture, you��ll be giving gifts to those you love. Is your father a boomer who will tell you how he used to love Thor growing up, but hasn’t picked up a four color page in decades? Is there an obnoxious young cousin in your life that could use some action packed stuff to shut her up? Maybe you treat yourself to some things too – courtesy of Santa perhaps? Well, as this club’s self-professed lord of all things comics, I’ve thrown together a handy holiday gift guide.

If you skip to the end, I have a basic list of all my recommendations if you want to bypass all my fluff. I include Amazon links throughout, but most of these books should also be available at your local comic shop (which you can find here) or run of the mill book store. I also recommend instocktrades.com for saving some money (free shipping on orders over $50).

Are you a newcomer to the superhero subculture? Maybe you found yourself among us because of Robert Downey Jr.’s undeniable wit, Chris Hemsworth’s luscious locks or Christopher Nolan’s masterful trilogy? The CW is doing some great things with Arrow, Flash and Legends of Tomorrow. Netflix can apparently only hit home runs, with Daredevil and Jessica Jones so far. Maybe you know that the world will be pummeled with over two dozen more superhero flicks by 2020, and you feel that you may as well willingly submit to your new geek overlords before you’re forced to do so. Here are some selections to prepare you for upcoming blockbusters or to delve deeper into some recent gems.

1. Jessica Jones

After Fredric Wertham nearly destroyed the medium with faulty science, the Comics Code Authority was created in 1954 as a self regulatory agency for the comics industry. Marvel remained an adherent of the censorship club until 2001. 

Jessica Jones was introduced in the series Alias, which served as the flagship title for Marvel’s Max imprint. Max was about leaving creators free to use mature/explicit themes as they saw fit. 

Alias also served as another early stepping stone in the explosive career of Brian Michael Bendis. He had already started his legendary run of Ultimate Spider-Man and was just a few months into his classic Daredevil tale. In 2015, Bendis is a multiple award winning writer and the primary architect of the Marvel Universe. 

For fans of the Netflix show, the Purple Man/Killgrave isn’t really brought up until the last five issues of the 28 issue run. It’s a slow burn character study and less of a “big bad of the week” kind of feel. Besides Bendis’ quick, natural dialogue and intriguing plotting, Alias is graced by Michael Gaydos’ noirish pencils (uplifted by Matt Hollingsworth’s colors) and David Mack’s iconic painted/collage covers. Ultimate Spider-Man collaborator Mark Bagley also does wonders on occasional flashback sequences.

Alias is collected across four trade paperbacks titled Jessica Jones: Alias. Volume 1 is here. The entire series can be grabbed together in a hardcover omnibus edition, with the added bonus of oversized pages. Here it is. 

To continue Jessica’s story, the next step is The Pulse. Still penned by Bendis, but with a more diversified art cast, the series covers Jessica’s new job at the Daily Bugle and her continuing relationship with Luke Cage. This trade paperback collects the whole series and includes the pair’s adorable wedding as a bonus.

2. Civil War

Whose side are you on? Every Marvel fan will have to make that decision on May 6, 2016 when Captain America: Civil War kicks off Phase Three of the Marvel Cinematic Universe by splitting the Avengers down the middle over philosophical and legal quandaries. 

The anticipated film will be loosely based on Mark Millar’s 2006 mega hit miniseries. For better or worse, Civil War was a huge success for Marvel and would kick off their current summer event strategy that continues to this day. Nearly every single ongoing series being published got drawn into the overall tale, several miniseries popped up to run alongside it, and even series with no connection had no choice but to acknowledge it. 

I’ll spoil it a bit and say that you will probably hate Tony Stark after reading the series. Civil War is incredibly divisive to this day, but at its core is a fun action romp with some barely noticeable post-9/11 philosophical questions brewing under the surface.

The seven issue mini is collected in an affordable trade. It can work as a purely standalone work.

If you want to flesh out the broader story more, check out the next entry on this list as well as looking into the Iron Man, Spider-Man and Fantastic Four tie in issues. Unfortunately, some of these trades are out of print and harder to find today; but Marvel is literally reprinting everything in time for the movie. 

If money flows through your veins, you could even splooge for this $500 MSRP box set collecting almost everything remotely relevant to Civil War.

3. The Winter Soldier

Before Steve Rogers was an anti-authoritarian leader in the monolithic Civil War, his long lost best friend and sidekick Bucky Barnes popped back up on the superhero scene. Ed Brubaker was tasked with making Captain America into a hit again after some rocky years in the late 1990s and early 2000s. 

Right off the bat, Brubaker took a huge gamble by breaking a major rule in comics. People joke about death in superhero comics. It doesn’t matter anymore. Jean Grey has died a dozen times (which granted, is the point of the character). Doomsday killed Superman and he was back in less than a year. Despite all these meaningless deaths, many a comic fan used to claim, “no one stays dead except Bucky, Jason Todd and Uncle Ben.” In 2005,  those first two were made moot. Bucky was retconned from being the creepy Robin-like child sidekick to a badass soldier in his own right. The Soviets saved him from death and turned him into a Cold War killing machine. Captain America: Winter Soldier covered the basics pretty faithfully. The original comic story is one of the greatest stories told in the medium though, and knocks the film out of the water.

Brubaker’s very long Captain America saga is collected across several books. The highlights of the run are all at the beginning though. The Winter Soldier arc is conveniently collected in a thick trade. After the major shakeup with Bucky’s return, Brubaker focuses back on Steve for a while in Red Menace, with Crossbones and Sharon Carter making strong appearances. Then Civil War starts its rumblings and something spoilery happens to Steve directly following its finale. It was heavily promoted and reported on by the New York Times, so you should know by now. The third fat collection of Brubaker’s series collects the seminal death of Steve Rogers and the beginnings of Bucky’s time as Captain America. With those three books, you get a whopping 43 issues of stellar comic storytelling. They also work as perfect bookends to Civil War.

4. Batman vs. Superman

This club is called the Students of S.H.I.E.L.D; but it would be naive to think that many of us aren’t huge fans of DC’s characters and stories. It’s also naive to put your fanboy stake in the dirt and not open yourself up to these fantastic tales. 

Personally, I love the Marvel Universe just slightly more than the DCU. However, I think that DC has most of the greatest standalone stories in their stable. Also, Batman. 

With the divisive Man of Steel, Zach Snyder at the helm, an overcrowded cast of cameos, Doomsday showing up for some reason, so on, who knows how Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice will turn out (update - it was terrible). 

If you want to lower your expectations even more, or see where the story can be done right, you should look to comics. Frank Miller revolutionized Batman in 1986/7 by putting out two stories that have since become definitive masterpieces. Batman: Year One showed us Bruce’s fledgling start as the Bat, as well as some juicy Jim Gordon and Selina Kyle backstory. The Dark Knight Returns, on the other hand, was Miller’s stark take on the “end” of Bruce’s life as Batman. The former is blessed by the beautiful art of David Mazzucchelli, while Miller uses his own rough manga/film noir style in DKR. 

Every single Batman story since has drawn on the influence of this indomitable pair. Both books are absolute must haves for anyone who considers themselves a fan of Batman or the comics medium. I am going to highlight DKR, as it includes a famous showdown with Superman. It also inspired Batfleck’s armored suit.

Dark Knight Returns, along with Watchmen, is a major cash cow for DC and can be found literally everywhere. If you want to flex your comic book critic mind, I hesitantly recommend trying out The Dark Knight Strikes Again, the incredibly controversial sequel from 2001. Unlike certain other seminal works, DC at least let Miller do the sequel himself (see: Before Watchmen). 

The thing is, Miller’s work had always had slightly misogynist, racist, xenophobic undertones. But 9/11 happened in the middle of him doing the series, and it noticeably affected the story and his psyche from that point forward. Most comic fans would tell you to completely avoid DK2 and anything he’s done since. Miller’s art is either hideous or esoteric, depending on who you ask. His ex-wife and longtime colorist, Lynn Varley, was also experimenting with digital coloring for the first time. Just like his pencils, some people argue her basic, flat colors are intentional and deconstructionist, whereas others say she did a shitty job. 

If you want to go balls deep, there is an oversized hardcover collecting both series together. DK3: The Master Race is currently being published. Miller allegedly has minimal involvement in it. As of writing this, there is one issue out and reaction has been mixed.

5. The Fantastic Four Aren’t Terrible?

Fox’s most recent mess of a Fantastic Four movie, or “Fan4stic” as people love to call it, may have tarnished the IP for mainstream moviegoers for the indefinite future. 

However, the first family of comics has a storied history in the medium they helped to bring back from the dead. Fantastic Four Vol 1 #1 from November, 1961 may be the most important comic of all time. Spider-Man, Thor, Tony Stark, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Ant-Man wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Reed Richards, Ben Grimm and Susan and Johnny Storm. 

It would be easy to thank the family for their influence and then dismiss them as archaic and irrelevant. But, that would be a major mistake. Some of the greatest Marvel stories have come from the F4. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s mind blowing 102 issue run literally built the Marvel Universe from planet to planet. John Byrne really built up Sue and brought She-Hulk into the extended family. Even Jake’s fabled Walter Simonson did some great stuff on the book. I’m going to focus on two pretty different takes.

Jonathan Hickman wrote Fantastic Four for three years. Hickman is known for his slow burning, epic storylines that build off one another. In 2015, Hickman is infamous for the insane Secret Wars, which is the closest thing Marvel has ever had to a reboot. Secret Wars features Dr. Doom as a godlike figure and ostensibly features Reed Richards as the main character. Longtime Hickman readers will notice developments in the series introduced all the way back in his F4 run. Hickman introduced the FF, or Future Foundation, to the world of Fantastic Four, so the reading order can be a little confusing. 

A quick google search can help you out. The trades you would need would be this one, this one, this one, this one, then this one, this one, this one, this one, this one, and finally this one. 

If this seems intimidating, it is. I can say with complete confidence that it is worth it though, especially if you dig crazy science fiction. You can also get it all in one fell swoop across two omnibus volumes here and here. That first one is out of print though and may be an arm and a leg in the secondary market. Good thing I got it while it was available, muahaha. If you come across it at a store though, you’ll score a gem (or an investment to flip on eBay).

So…that Jonathan Hickman guy sounds kind of scary. If you were looking for some Fantastic Four stories with a little bit less emphasis on saving the multiverse, there’s something for you too. Mark Waid wrote the book for a while in the early 2000s. Waid is known for the classic Kingdom Come, as well as classic runs on Captain America, Daredevil, Hulk, Justice League, the Legion of Super-Heroes and the Flash. 

He brought one of his Flash collaborators, Mike Wieringo with him to work on the first family. Wieringo was known for his cartoony, manga inspired style that made everything he drew fun. Waid and Wieringo truly captured the family dynamic of the team. Jack Kirby shows up as a representation of God. Doom does some truly devilish shit. It’s all wonderful. 

You can get it across four trades. Tragically, the industry lost Mike Wieringo at a young age. His work will continue to inspire readers and creators for years though and show that, first and foremost, superheroes should be fun.

6. The Flash

The Flash is probably the hottest superhero property on Television (neatly excluding Daredevil and Jessica Jones since they aren’t technically on TV). The CW hit a home run with Arrow and they’ve since birthed a little universe replete with spinoffs and crossovers. When you think about it, The CW’s shows are the closest parallel to the format of comics. The shows are also going places that a multi-million dollar blockbuster wouldn’t dare, with parallel universes and such. 

Along with showrunners Greg Berlanti and Andrew Kreisberg, another major player in The Flash is Geoff Johns. Johns is currently the Chief Creative Officer at DC Comics. Starting as an intern for Richard Donner (of The Goonies, Superman 1 and 2 fame), Geoff shifted over to the comics industry and had a meteoric rise. Though he wrote The Avengers for twenty issues, he is most associated with DC’s stable. He’s done character defining work on the Teen Titans, Aquaman, Superman, Booster Gold, Hawkman and the Justice Society. He presently has been writing Justice League since the start of the New 52. 

Among his prolific bibliography, Green Lantern and the Flash stick out the most. Johns brought Hal Jordan back from the grave and turned the Lantern books into DC’s biggest sellers for several years, with smash hits like The Sinestro Corps War and Blackest Night. He also resurrected Barry Allen (after a legendary 23 year absence) during a second stint writing the franchise. 

It’s his early work with Wally West that really stands out though. After Mark Waid built up the Speed Force and the legacy aspect of the characters in the 1990s, Johns brought a smile-inducing optimism to the book and fleshed out the infamous Rogues. Despite featuring a different lead character, much of the show’s characterization and tone is lifted directly from Johns’ Flash.

Johns’ first Flash run was originally collected across a buttload of slim trade paperbacks. Most of those are out of print. Then DC collected the whole thing across three big omnibus volumes. These are also out of print, but they had crappy tight binding anyway. 

Starting this year, the material is being recollected again in meaty trades. Here is the first volume that just came out. The second doesn’t come out until May, but will start collecting some of the truly legendary arcs. There will probably be about four of them total. 

If you absolutely need some Barry Allen in your life, you may as well go to Johns’ rebirth of the hero. He followed it up with a short second run that lead right into Flashpoint, the harbinger of the New 52 for better or worse. 

The New 52 is controversial for longtime DC fans, and hit The Flash particularly hard by wiping out the prominent elements of family and history from the title. Barry has never been married to Iris. He never sacrificed himself in Crisis. Wally and Bart are bastardized versions of themselves. Max Mercury and Johnny Quick simply don’t exist. The first 25 issues of the title are worthwhile though, if only for the absolutely beautiful art of Francis Manapul. Those issues are split across the first four trades. Here’s the first one.

7. Doctor Strange

After the destined smash hit Captain America: Civil War, the next piece of the Marvel Cinematic Universe puzzle is Doctor Strange. Sherlock fans should be hype for Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of the Sorcerer Supreme. 

Strange is an interesting character in the Marvel Universe. He dates back to the early days of silver age Marvel in the 1960s. He’s always been a cult favorite B-level hero throughout the years. He started out sharing the title Strange Tales with Nick Fury. The book was the ultimate treat for art nerd comic fans. Fury benefited from both Jack Kirby and Jim Steranko and had a brilliant mix of sleek James Bond style and 60s pop art sensibilities. 

Strange, on the other hand, was one of only a handful of books to get the Steve Ditko treatment. Ditko is the elusive, objectivist, visionary creator of not just Strange, but the Amazing Spider-Man himself. Whereas Peter’s scrawny, dorky physique and his creepy movement were the marks of Steve’s style on Spidey, he used Strange to go completely out there with psychedelia. The ultra conservative Ditko ironically grew to be a major inspiration to a generation of hippies. Strange has always kept that otherworldly edge in the years since.

A Lee/Ditko Dr. Strange omnibus is coming out at some point to tie into the movie. However, there are two fantastic titles that have come out closer to our own lifetimes. The most approachable and mainstream book is The Oath by Brian K. Vaughan. Vaughan is a big name in comics for writing the classic Y: The Last Man. He also has acclaim from Marvel heads for creating the cult teenage book Runaways. He is currently the number one indie darling (outside of maybe the mainstay Kirkman) with his and Fiona Staples’ Saga. Many consider The Oath to be the defining story for Stephen.

The other standout in the sparse Doctor Strange collection library is 1989’s Dr. Strange and Dr. Doom: Triumph & Torment. Written by Roger Stern, who had extensive experience with the character, and drawn by Mike Mignola, this is a true gem. Mignola is most known for founding the Hellboy/BPRD empire of independent comics over at Dark Horse. His early work at Marvel and DC is not quite as stylized and focused as Hellboy, but still features stunning art from a master of the medium. Doom goes to Stephen for help in freeing his mother’s soul from Hell. The story truly encapsulates why Strange will always be the Sorcerer Supreme at the end of the day, even if Brother Voodoo, Wanda Maximoff or Viktor seem like threats to the title. It’s also one of the best Doom tales.

8. Star Wars

Before the industry revolutionizing Star Wars came out in May, 1977, George Lucas went to Marvel Comics to try and shop a comic licensing deal. Stan Lee infamously turned him away before Roy Thomas convinced him otherwise (having previously seen success with the Conan the Barbarian license). 

Marvel went on to produce 107 issues and change over ten years. They were experiencing some financial and creative trouble in the late 1970s and early 80s, with many of their star artists gone and franchises flailing. Some critics attribute the success of the Star Wars comic (among other licenses like GI Joe and Transformers) to saving the company. 

Marvel stopped publishing the book years before the next big wave of Star Wars interest peaked in the 1990s. By this time, the license had moved to Dark Horse, where huge swaths of the now-killed Expanded Universe were built. In the 2010s, the license has returned to the house of ideas in the wake of Disney gobbling up every entertainment corporation in sight. Both LucasFilm and Marvel are now under the house of mouse. 

Marvel has since started pumping out Star Wars comics like it’s all they do. It seems to be paying off so far. Star Wars #1 was the best selling comic in twenty years, reaching over a million copies sold (yes, this is a tiny industry). The Star Wars line is basically paying for any weird experiments Marvel wants to try in the MU. If only DC could get a cash cow like this (besides Batman). An important note is that every Star Wars issue published by Marvel since January 2014 is completely canon.

Besides the fact that people would probably buy them anyway, Marvel’s Star Wars books are actually pretty great. The key to this success is putting top tier talent on the book, instead of the obscure D-listers and science fiction authors that Dark Horse used (no disrespect to those stories, which are great). 

The main title, Star Wars, is written by Jason Aaron. Aaron is one of the hottest writers of the era, with a long running indie hit (Scalped), an ongoing indie gem (Southern Bastards) and time put into Marvel on Wolverine, Ghost Rider, Punisher and several X-Men titles. He also has a instant classic under his belt (Thor: God of Thunder). 

Aaron’s Star Wars has a revolving door of all-star artists that switch out each arc. So far, John Cassaday and Stuart Immonen have done their time on the book. 

Darth Vader features the talent of Kieron Gillen (Wicked and the Divine, Phonogram, Young Avengers) and the photo realistic Salvador Larroca. Lots of comics peeps prefer Vader as the true standout in the line. 

For the Rebels fans out there, Kanan is another book. That book has no names on it though, but if you look on the bright side, they’re rising stars being given a chance to shine. 

Besides those three current ongoings, Marvel utilizes a miniseries format to tell one-and-done stories. Princess Leia herself got one by Mark Waid and Terry Dodson (another top tier team). Greg Rucka and Marco Chechetto did Journey to Force Awakens, which serves as a prequel to the film. Marvel will literally keep printing these books until the world ends I think. Chewbacca and Lando minis have wrapped up, with collections down the line. For the deranged prequel fans out there, an Obi-Wan and Anakin book is coming. 

If you want a taste of Marvel’s 1970s output, there is a nice hardcover of the first six issues, which served as a New Hope adaptation. Their old adaptations of the rest of the trilogy are available as well. If you want to read the whole series, there are three omnibuses collecting it all. An omnibus of Marvel’s dubious Ewok and droids spinoffs is coming out too. They also have the distribution rights to the Dark Horse material and are reprinting it in Epic Collection volumes. STAR WARS IS TAKING OVER!

9. Walking Dead

The Walking Dead is one of the hottest shows on television. I think it and its new spinoff actually get ratings up there with Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory, only below football programming of course. For the first few seasons, it was the “cool” thing to know that it is based on a comic book. Kind of like people boasting about knowing the plot of Game of Thrones ahead of time due to reading Martin’s novels. Everyone knows The Walking Dead is a comic by now. However, if you enjoy the show and still haven’t tried the book, you need to fix that ASAP. 

The book is written by Robert Kirkman, a major sentinel of creator’s rights. Kirkman is the poster child of the late 2000s mentality that creators don’t need to toil away at Marvel and DC for name recognition before doing their own thing. He and Brian Michael Bendis had a great debate about creator-owned comics that is worth watching for people interested in how money works in this industry. Kirkman is the only partner of Image Comics who is not a founder of the company. TWD remains the only indie comic to rank in the top twenty selling monthly books with consistency. Fun fact: his son is named Peter Parker Kirkman.

Along with his staunch views on creator rights, Kirkman is a big fan of format diversity. The Walking Dead comes in all shapes and sizes. Of course, you can buy the monthly single issues that come out monthly. Those are up to the monolithic #150 though (still trailing Savage Dragon #210 and Spawn #259 though). So, even if you are down to hop on the Wednesdays train, you have some catching up to do. The most simple way to read the book is through the trade paperbacks, which are up to volume 24 at this point. The most cost efficient method is the fat paperback compendiums. There are three so far, and they encompass eight trade paperbacks each (48 issues). 

If you are looking for something sexy to put on your shelf, you have even more options. There are hardcovers that collect twelve issues each with a trim size of 7.5 x 11 inches (compared to 6.8 x 10.2 paperbacks). Going even bigger, for maximum art appreciation, are the omnibus editions which are 8.2 x 12 and collect 24 issues each. All of the various formats collect up to issue 144 so far. If you intend to continue following the series, another thing to keep in mind is how often your format comes out.

I highly recommend www.instocktrades.com. They will offer almost all of these books cheaper than Amazon or brick and mortar stores will. Some of them might not be in stock on Amazon, or more obscure and harder to find in stores, and IST will also be more likely to have them available. Over fifty bucks, free shipping.

1. Jessica Jones – Alias Volume 1, 2, 3, 4 / Omnibus, The Pulse 2. Civil War, Mega Expensive Box Set 3. The Winter Soldier – Brubaker Captain America Vol 1, 2, 3 4. Batman v. Superman – DKR, DKSA / Deluxe HC 5. Fantastic Four – Hickman Vol 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, FF Vol 1, 2, 3, 4, Waid Vol 1, 2, 3, 4 6. The Flash – Geoff Johns Vol 1, Rebirth, Flashpoint, N52 Vol 1 7. Doctor Strange – The Oath, Triumph & Torment 8. Star Wars – Star Wars Vol 1, Darth Vader Vol 1, Kanan Vol 1, Leia, Journey to Force Awakens, A New Hope 9. Walking Dead – TPB Vol 1 / Compendium Vol 1 / HC Vol 1 / Omnibus Vol 1

[thebestpirate]

The Longest Sail EVER (Uruguay to Cape Town)

On January 13th, 2017, the Gulden Leeuw left for a grand adventure of our 34-day sail. The thought of starting this voyage scared me half to death because I am the biggest family’s girl you’ll ever meet. My family is full of my best friends and I didn’t want to leave them for a month. However, with the help of my newly found family on the ship, I learned that even a 34-day sail can be full of fun and adventure. Moving back on the ship was surprisingly very easy. I thought it would be a stressful process, but it took maybe an hour. Also, the boys and girls got to switch sides in the dorms, which means we get the better air conditioned side! I can use my blankets every night… I bet the boys can too because the South Atlantic is SO COLD, but still… It’s such a nice feeling. Also, last semester, my bed was one of the closest to the ceiling. When I raised my elbow, it would hit the ceiling, so there was NO WAY I’d possibly ever be able to sit up and most nights I’d hit my head on the ceiling. But no longer do I suffer with a tiny sleeping area. My bunk this semester is still a top bunk, but the ceiling is higher and I can actually move as I please. It’s heaven.

We met our new maritime crew the day we came back to the ship on the 10th of January. They’re a group of amazing people and so many of them are from the States. I haven’t been around so many Americans in a very long time. I very much enjoy being around people from all over the world (it’s probably the coolest thing about CAF), but it was cool to meet people who live closer to me than others.

Our watch groups were changed this semester and man do I love Watch 6. Svea, Elizabeth, Haylee, Brody, and Klaus are some of the best people to hang out with on watch at 4 to 6 in the morning.

On the 18th of January, I was writing in my journal saying “…we’re on our way to Tristan! I really hope we get…” And I just stopped writing because I then wrote, “AAAAND I totally lost my train of thought because there were a bunch of pilot whales SO close to the ship.” That’s the cool thing about Class Afloat. You’re excused from class when there are whales, dolphins, sharks, turtles, etc. It’s a crazy thing to think about and I can’t imagine what living on land is going to be like after experiencing this. Anyways, what I was going to say in my journal was I really hope we get to make it to Tristan Da Cuhna. (Spoiler alert… We made it to Tristan! But I’ll talk about that in a bit.)

On Jan. 21st, a bunch of us were watching High School Musical 2 and you better believe we sang our hearts out. I’ve never met a group of people who understand my love for HSM. Watching the second movie brought me back to when we were in UNEDCO in Spain and we watched the 1st movie in the building we had our classes in. It’s crazy to think that we had a month off the ship and now it’s been a month at sea (with a short stop in Tristan). Before watching HSM2, it’s Megan’s clumsy story of the day… I had just gotten out of galley and I was taking the massive container of rags to the laundry room to start cleaning them. I was walking and the second I stepped on the tile floor, which was super slippery that day, my right foot slipped right across my left leg and I tripped myself. I landed ONLY on my right knee with not only my own weight, but with this darn container of rags. It hurt SO bad, but I ignored it while watching HSM2 because that felt more important at the time. The next day I realized I couldn’t bend my leg… Whoops. I went (limped) to the Medical Officer, Chris, and he put me on the “less physical work board” because walking was a struggle for a solid 48 hours. It took longer than that for the swelling to go down, but I could walk like a semi-normal person after the 1st 2 days. For the time I was crippled, I was walking like a had a peg leg. It was kind of funny, but extremely painful.

The next day (the 22nd), there was an all hands call for a job on deck and, even though I was still injured, I just did an easy job. But… It happened to be Sunday Dinner that day and we were all dressed nice. My skirt was NOT happy in the strong wind outside. It takes skill to haul on a line and hold down your skirt at the same time, but the girls managed it really well so props to us.

On the 24th, we saw at least 4 sperm whales. They were beautiful (and insanely close to the ship). Seeing marine mammals never gets old. Later that day, there was an announcement over the loud speaker that simply said, “big whale on starboard side.” I had been having a rough couple of days in terms of mental health so it’s things like that that make me cheer up a bit. I hadn’t gotten out of bed that quickly in a whiiiile. Also, don’t worry family… I get a little down every now and then because I get impatient waiting to talk to you guys. I cheer up when crazy stuff happens, but sometimes you just want to call your family. The Southern Atlantic, however, does not have cell service. I also found out that morning that I got accepted as a Teacher’s Apprentice for the Anthropology 12 class. Everyone can apply to whatever they want to be on the ship as an apprentice and I knew being a teacher’s apprentice would be more my speed compared to something maritime related. I’m so proud of my work for Anthro!

JANUARY 27TH! My 19th birthday! I am now a 19-year-old and it happened on a ship in the middle of the Southern Atlantic Ocean. How cool is that?! Lindsey, I’m definitely not 8 anymore. In fact, I’m now DOUBLE that. I know, it’s crazy to think about. I got bucketed like what normally happens on peoples’ birthdays and oh my gosh it was cold. I have a video of it because I didn’t want to get bucketed with cold water and not be able to make fun of myself later on.

Time to talk about TRISTAN. Some sailor’s only dream of making it to Tristan because sometimes the wind/weather doesn’t let you anchor outside of their small, isolated home. But we made it! With a lot of hard work, we got to anchor outside of Tristan on the 29th of January, which was earlier than expected, but that’s the window of good weather we had and this crew made it happen. I went aloft (to just below the lower topsail) with John, Kyle, and Liz. I was a little scared, but the waters were calm and we were anchored so I felt confident enough to make it up there. The view of Tristan was breathtaking. We actually went onto Tristan on the 30th and I saw a ROCKHOPPER PENGUIN the second I stepped onto the island. I was in love. I sent some post cards to my family that I hope make it there soon. We visited the school that very few kids attend (considering there’s only about 280 people on the whole island). We got the chance to play ACTUAL BASKETBALL with a few of the kids and I didn’t realize how much I missed throwing things and running around, two things that are prohibited on the ship. We got the chance to climb the volcano that erupted in 1961 and I got some BEAUTIFUL pictures. We only had one afternoon on Tristan so it was over way too quickly, sadly. We made our way back to the ship on the dinghy and set sail the next day on the 31st.

In the beginning of February, I began to prepare my lesson for the Anthropology lesson I would be teaching regarding Sex and Gender. Being the teacher’s apprentice for Anthropology has been a blast and when the time came to teach my 55-minute lesson, I felt 100% prepared. It went extremely well because not only did I work hard on the presentation, but sex and gender is a topic I know a lot about (self-taught because little Megan and current Megan are constantly curious about how that stuff works). Everyone told me that I did a good job and they feel like they learned a lot about sexual orientations, romantic orientations, and gender versus sex.

On board, mostly throughout this long sail, a game known as Jungle Speed has been spreading like wildfire. It’s a hit amongst individuals on the ship who have to get some pent-up energy out. It’s a game that involves a lot of yelling. We’ve actually drawn blood playing this game because it’s so intense when you have to be the first to grab something. It’s harder to explain through text, but consider playing it one day. I’m for sure going to force it upon my family.

In mid-February, we had a handover day, which means the students take over the ship while the maritime crew gets the day off. They keep an eye on us just in case, but I think we were pretty successful that day and the other handovers that have happened throughout the year. Every handover day (at the time I’m writing this, we’ve only had two, but another one is coming up), we fly the huge pirate flag that we have onboard. It’s the small things that make things like this fun. Even though I wasn’t acting as a maritime crew member, because I was a teacher’s apprentice, it was still fun for me to watch my friends be captain, 1st and 2nd officer, engineer, ABs, and bosun. You get a really strong proud feeling when your student crew can take over the ship for a full 24 hours.

On February 13th, we anchored outside of Cape Town and all anyone could think of was “FINALLY!” This was a parent port so many of us had been anticipating seeing our families. I had not seen my sisters since I left in September. We had to anchor until the 16th and I was growing impatient having to wait for 3 days to see my best friends. My siblings are my best friends so seeing my sisters was a big deal. I cannot thank Chris enough for bringing them with him to Cape Town because, not only did I get to see them, they got to experience something outside of our normal life in the United States. Travelling is something I believe everyone should do and I am so glad my sisters got to go to Cape Town, one of my favorite ports.

I enjoyed our long sail, but we sometimes tend to go a little crazy waiting for land to appear on the horizon. One of the most interesting things I’ve learned is that you can smell land when you approach it after so many days at sea.

Thank you for reading this VERY LATE (sorry about that) and very long post. I’ve been putting off typing about this passage for quite some time because of the length I knew it would be, but here it is!

<3 - Megan