#those hours of travelling are a lot less boring when half the party can’t catch a break from their allergies

[snzfanatic]

hear me out: snzfuckers dnd group

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 7: “Ojama Delta Thunder!!”

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

WE STAN SUPPORTIVE WORKPLACES IN THIS HOUSE. Also, tiny bit of Egoshipping at the end.

This monster is just over nine pages. What am I doing with my life?

“So you wanted to talk Pro stuff?”

It takes Chazz’s brain an extra minute to process the words, still reeling from the bombshell Jaden decided to drop on them tonight. Then he latches onto the chance to think about literally anything other than the fact that Jaden literally fused himself with the monster that tried to kill him! How stupid do you get?! “Yes, please, I’m desperate.”

“Alright, no need to grovel.” Aster holds a hand out to preemptively stop any further begging that admittedly would have happened. “Like I said, I’d be glad for the company.”

It’s still surreal to watch Aster be both honest and vulnerable even though Chazz has seen it a few times now thanks to these group talks Jim started. Chazz has actually seen most of his friends break down in tears at this point. This year has been a fucking trip. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“You’ll be my assistant.”

“Sorry, what?” Chazz must not have heard that right.

“You’ll have the chance to see how the Pros work up close and personal, and I get an extra pair of hands on deck.” Aster shrug. “Win-win.”

That is absolutely not a win-win! “I’m not gonna be your lackey!”

Aster levels him a look that would be insulting enough even without the younger boy’s obvious lack of fear in the face of Chazz’s anger. “So you don’t want my help then.”

Oh this son of a- Deep breath in. Hold it. Exhale. Don’t scream bloody murder at the literal one person related to the Pro Dueling business giving Chazz the time of day. “Fine. What exactly am I expected to do?”

*

“You’ll be managing Aster’s schedule,” the woman says as she escorts Chazz up the elevator because Aster couldn’t be bothered to meet Chazz himself. Esmerelda, she introduced herself as, an employee of the Senrigan Group assigned to look after Aster. Purple curls spill over her shoulder and she’d be pretty if her smile wasn’t so...unnerving. Sharp green eyes bore down at him and Chazz wants to fidget in this stupid, uncomfortable suit. “Take this.” Esmerelda holds out a simple flip phone and Chazz accepts it with minimal confusion. “It’s a company phone and will be your primary method of communication.”

This gig sounds simple enough at least.

At the top floor of the company-owned skyscraper, the doors open to reveal a spacious and luxurious pad. Reminds him of home, honestly, and Chazz has to swallow down the confusing mix of emotions that brings. “I’ll be living here? Not bad.”

“Certainly not.” Esmeralda chuckles and gives Chazz a smile that - in one word - he would describe as plastic. Leading him through the entryway-living room space, she opens a door to a room that looks like a typical office space.

“That’s a lot of phones.” He stares incredulously at the appliances that line the desks.

“Of course,” Esmerelda says and Chazz finds it more than a little unnerving that she doesn’t deem it necessary to address why there are so many phones in this room. “This is your desk.” She taps a spot on the table top with an immaculate nail. “Make sure you arrive before seven.” Chazz nods and the woman leads him back out of the room to a set of narrow double doors that open onto a balcony. “You will be sleeping there.” She points down at a comparatively tiny, rustic looking building squeezed between the back of the skyscraper and the road. Is that a warehouse?

*

It’s a warehouse. There’s a couch and table on the landing near the door and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The power is out and a cloud of dust rises from the couch when Chazz sets his briefcase on the cushions. Sadly, this isn’t much worse than the Slifer Dorms. He’ll make it work.

*

“You put him where?” Aster looks up over his cup of chamomile tea, something Sartorius recommended after noticing his trouble sleeping and, like most of Sartorius’ suggestions, works fairly well. Setting the cup down, he presses his finger tips to his temple and doesn’t wait for an answer. “Esmerelda, you are evil.”

“With all due respect, sir, this boy is a Manjoume.” Esmerelda frowns, posture stiff where she sits on the other end of the couch and brows furrowed in an expression that speaks exactly how she feels about this situation. “The Manjoume Group is our biggest rival. He could be here to steal company secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” Aster mumbles and picks his tea up again.

“To my knowledge, Chazz has an estranged relationship with his family,” Sartorius says from the armchair across the table, pencil tapping lightly against the clipboard on his lap. That paper is either Aster’s schedule or a crossword; Aster doesn’t care enough to squint. “Besides, he is a personal friend.”

Aster scoffs. “Chazz and I are not friends.”

“Friendly acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” Aster corrects. “We’re just acquaintances.”

“Of course,” Sartorius agrees in that voice that implies he knows something he isn’t willing to share yet. Aster narrows his eyes at him over the cup but doesn’t press the issue. He’ll find out soon enough; Sartorius isn't that good at keeping secrets.

“Exactly,” Esmerelda presses. “Why are you sticking your neck out for him?”

Sighing, Aster sets his cup down to massage his temple once more. He knows Esmerelda means well, but she’s been watching him like a hawk even since he got back from the other dimension and Aster misses that small bit of freedom. “I don’t know. Maybe because I felt bad for him? Maybe because I wanted someone to talk about-” He lets the sentence hang and shelves the bulk of his bitterness and frustration before continuing; he doesn’t need to take it out on them. “-who actually understands.”

Esmerelda presses her lips. Sartorius stares at him with those damnably soulful eyes. Even if he could have predicted that whole fiasco, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop it. Aster doubts nothing short of the sun imploding could have stopped Jaden from chasing Jesse across dimensions; Aster had just been the idiot who got too close.

“It’s late.” Aster exhales wearily. “You should go home.”

Nodding, Esmerelda stands and bids him a good night. Only after the elevator has closed behind her does Aster allow himself to slump against the couch. Sartorius sets the clipboard on the table - it’s a crossword - and holds out his hand. “Shall we retire?”

“Yeah.”

It’s easy to be vulnerable around Sartorius, probably because of how long they’ve known each other, and Sartorius is still the only person Aster can completely relax around. He lets Sartorius pull him up off the couch and they head down the hallway to the bedrooms at the back of the suite.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,” Sartorius promises with his usual nightly greeting, and Aster has the distinct feeling he’ll be taking him up on that later. Today’s been stressful.

*

Chazz arrives at the office room at 6:55 sharp and freezes at the sight of the person already sitting there. “Good morning, Chazz,” Sartorius greets like they’re old buddies or something and not the guy who brainwashed him less than a year ago. “I trust Esmerelda already briefed you on the daily necessities.”

“No?” Chazz croaks. He’s going to be working with Sartorius? What happened to Esmerelda?

Sartorius’ expression falls into one of surprise and concern, but one of the multiple phones rings before he can respond and his attention immediately swerves. “Good morning, this is Sartorius speaking,” the man says with an uncanny level of grace and authority. Whatever is said on the other end of the line prompts him to pull up some kind of spreadsheet on the computer in front of him. Another phone rings as the conversation continues and Sartorius wordlessly directs Chazz to answer it with his hand.

“This is Weekly Duelist,” a voice chirps in his ear, a bit loud and on the edge of demanding. “Next week, could we have Aster...”

A third phone rings. Sartorius pushes a pen and paper at Chazz as he sets the first phone down and reaches for the next. “Write it down.” He’s on the next call before Chazz can ask for elaboration.

And so the morning goes. Chazz scribbles down the names of different dueling events and talk shows and gods-know-what-else that want Aster’s attention while Sartorius alternates between his own conversations and calling back the interested parties on Chazz’s list to fit them onto the spreadsheet.

Esmerelda shows up during a lull in phone calls as Sartorius walks Chazz through using the digital schedule, and Chazz’s brain is too fried from the last 2 hours of his life - has it only been 2 hours?? - to even care about the guy being in his personal space. “The first few hours of the morning are always the busiest. If you can’t confirm at the time of the call, write down the request and call back later. You must also always consider location and travel time- Oh.” Sartorius looks up abruptly. “Excuse us a moment.”

Standing, Sartorius pulls Esmerelda back out the room with him, and Chazz takes the opportunity to just sit and do nothing. A few names remain on the callback list. Should he get started on that or wait for Sartorius to return?

“You sent him in here with no instruction.” The conversation floats in from beyond the door.

“I told him to arrive before seven.”

���Before seven does not imply ��in time to receive instruction’, Esmeralda. If you weren’t going to show him anything last night, he should have been here at least half an hour before hand.”

So that woman set him up for failure? Whatever, nothing Chazz isn’t used to. Reaching for the phone, he calls back the next event on his list. He’s got two more events scheduled before Sartorius and Esmerelda return and sits back in the chair smugly as he ends the call. Sartorius’ eyebrows rise as he glances over the schedule on his own screen.

“Well done! I’m glad to see you taking initiative.” The praise sends an odd thrill through Chazz like a half forgotten memory and he decides not to dwell on it. Sartorius turns back to Esmerelda with an almost smug grin. “And you worried.”

The woman presses her red lips together with a dismissive hum; Chazz prefers it to the plastic smile.

A tea and snack break later, Chazz finds himself fetching Aster’s clothing and duel disk - why the hell does someone need that many of the exact same thing?! - for a photo shoot, then hauling books from a truck to the table of a signing event - he didn’t know Aster wrote a book about duel philosophy. Admittedly, he’s curious - all while occasionally answering phone calls and penning new events onto his paper copy of the schedule.

The sun has set by the time he finds himself slumping back in his desk chair, Aster’s schedule neat and tidy on the spreadsheet before him. The phones have finally gone silent.

“Good work today.” Sartorius enters with a tray of soup and breadsticks and sets it on the desk adjacent to Chazz.

Chazz blinks at it. “You cook?”

Sartorius smiles. “Yes. Mizuchi and I lived alone for most of our lives, so we had to learn how to take care of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Chazz doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the soup and spoons some of it into his mouth. It’s surprisingly good, mild, not too salty like most of the canned stuff.

“There’s an extra room up here for you,” Sartorius says and Chazz looks up sharply.

“I don’t have to stay in the warehouse?”

“Goodness, no.” Shaking his head, Sartorius presses his lips and continues at length, “I suppose Esmerelda wanted to test your resolve.” Chazz snorts. “I assure you, Aster and I did not approve.”

Didn’t stop them from letting him sleep there last night. Chazz can’t even muster the energy to glare at the man, only managing what must be a fish eyed stare. He dips the breadstick in the soup before taking a bit; oo, now that’s a good combination of flavors.

“How was your first day?” It’s still unnerving how calm and even Sartorius speaks even without the malicious undertones from the Light of Destruction.

“Exhausting,” Chazz answers without hesitation.

Sartorius chuckles. “I’ve put on some tea if you’d like to join us.”

Chazz considers this and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m gonna go get my stuff.” Still too weird, and honestly he wants nothing more than to crash in a real bed and stop existing for a few hours.

Nodding, Sartorius stands. “The room is at the far end of the hall. Mine is the second on the left if you need anything.”

Chazz really shouldn’t be surprised these two live together.

*

The following week is more of the same. Chazz follows Aster to all manner of events from meet-and-greets to fancy parties, always doing the heavy lifting and always answering the phone. During the precious few moments he has to breathe, Sartorius talks his ear off. The man is a surprisingly witty conversation partner and the complete opposite of Chazz’s sparse memories from the Society of Light.

“Of course I’m different.” Sartorius laughs good naturedly as Chazz curses his slip of the tongue. “That wasn’t really me, Chazz.”

No, Chazz supposes it wasn’t.

“He’s so good with people,” he mumbles, leaning on the balcony railing where they watch Aster mingle in the party below.

“Of course.” Sartorius sounds fond. “That’s what it takes to succeed. I believe you can learn a lot from watching him.”

Yeah, if Chazz can manage to find the time between everything else.

*

“You want me to what?”

“Organize the cards in here,” Aster repeats and Chazz baulks at the sheer number of stacks that line the shelves. “The power’s back on so that won’t be a problem. No specific deadline, just work on it when you have spare time.”

“What spare time?!”

Aster only raises his eyebrows with that unimpressed expression he’s so fond of giving, and Chazz clenches his teeth.

“Can I least get some gloves and a mask and a duster?” It’s filthy in here and Chazz doesn’t fancy breathing in whatever dust cloud he’s found to kick up.

“There should be cleaning supplies in the closet.” Aster waves a hand vaguely before turning to take his leave. “Good luck.”

*

A number of people make house calls with Aster; Chazz doesn’t pay much attention to them because he’s usually neck deep in phone calls and keeping Aster’s schedule straight - he does not need another double booking fiasco, thank god Sartorius had the charm to sort it out peacefully. One guy in particular, however, Chazz does get used to seeing; Mike something-or-other, a TV producer hell bent on getting Aster in on his comedy acts. Aster throws him out more than once.

“Why don’t you just cut ties with him?” Chazz asks after another such altercation. “You clearly don’t like him.”

“He’s good at what he does.” Aster frowns, annoyed if not outright angered. So are Slade and Jagger and that didn’t stop Chazz from telling them to fly a kite. Picking up his cup, Aster winces as his hand shakes and quickly sets the cup down before the tea can spill. Chazz zeros in on the movement.

“Hand,” he says, scooting over to sit by Aster on the couch without a second thought.

“What?”

Chazz doesn’t wait as he takes Aster’s hand and smooths out the joints between his own fingers before pressing gently and rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“You know massage??”

“Yeah.” Chazz still doesn’t get why everyone makes a big deal of it. This is something he’s always been able to do; used to find it weird that other people couldn’t because it felt so easy to him. A natural skill or whatever. “Jesus fuck,” the English expletive slips past his lips as he feels the knots and strained muscles in Aster’s hand. “I’m cancelling meet-and-greets and signing events for a while.”

“Excuse me?”

“So your hand can heal,” Chazz cuts Aster off before the other can work himself into righteous indignation. “You can’t duel without your draw hand. Two weeks of minimal activity and you should be fine. But we should tape this. Do you have a first aid-”

A white kit with a red cross hovers in the peripheral of Chazz’s vision. He stares dumbly up at Sartorius as Aster huffs with amusement. Cautiously, Chazz takes it. “Can you still see the future or something?”

“Predict,” Sartorius corrects as he takes his usual seat in the arm chair. “And not all predictions are accurate.”

“Riiiight.” Just gonna ignore that piece of information for now then. Chazz pulls the ace wrap out of the kit and turns back to Aster’s hand. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but there might be a sliver more respect in Aster’s eyes when Chazz finishes wrapping his hand and a tiny, genuine smile on his face.

*

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Aster’s going to lose his entire career just because one lousy card went missing?!

Chazz paces back and forth across the warehouse floor, gnawing on his fingernails. The cards have all been organized - monster, trap, spell, then by type, archetype, and alphabetical. Chazz could point exactly to which box a single card is in, but the one card apparently more important that Aster’s fucking career disappears from right under his nose!

They even know who took it! They have photos from the security camera! But they can’t prove shit because the bastard was smart enough to keep his face covered and away from the camera! If they can’t prove it, they can’t get the card back! And then Aster-

“Boss, breathe!” Ojama Yellow squeals. “I think you're having an angry attack!”

“Anxiety attack!” Chazz screams, suddenly aware of just how rapid and shallow his breath has gotten. Geez, he sounds like Jaden after-

JADEN!

Chazz dives for his school-issued PDA, yanks up the contacts, and rapidly taps his foot against the floor as he waits for the other end of the line to pick up. He dials twice before getting an answer.

“What?”

“Jaden, I need your help!”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The other boy sounds groggy and disheveled.

No, Chazz has absolutely no idea what time it is in Japan, he is on the side of the globe and that’s not important right now! “Listen! I need you and your freaky powers for help with something!”

Silence. The line clicks dead.

“DID YOU JUST HANG UP ON ME?” Chazz screams into the empty warehouse. It takes three more tries to get Jaden back on the line.

“And why should I help you?”

“SERIOUSLY? Wait.” Something about Jaden’s voice sounds off. The cadence? “Yubel? This is Yubel isn’t it? Put Jaden on the line! I don’t want you!”

“Jaden is asleep as I was before you so rudely interrupted me and will be returning to now,” Yubel snips.

“WAIT!” Chazz screeches before she can hang up again. He doesn’t need to waste any more time on callbacks. “Never mind! I just need help! Aster needs help!”

The silence on the other end stretches long enough that Chazz fears the monster already hung up. “I’m listening.”

*

Chazz doesn’t even question it when Jaden tumbles out of the shadows onto the warehouse floor, grumbling about fudged landings and never being at locations before, just snaps at him to hide the wings and drags him up to Aster’s apartment. “I brought help!” he announces as they barge in.

Aster’s head snaps up and Chazz watches the scathing remark die on his tongue as his eyes fall on Jaden. “Oh. That’s an idea.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jaden walks fearlessly up to the trio. “Cuz I got the basics from Yubel, but details would be nice.”

“Yubel?” Esmerelda asks with a weary glance between Jaden and Chazz.

Jaden blanks at her then turns away dismissively. “Not important.”

Aster tosses the security photos onto the table between them. “This is the guy who took the card. Mike, a TV producer who’s been trying to get me to go along with his comedy gimmick for weeks now. We know it’s him but these photos won’t hold up in court.”

Picking the photos up, Jaden holds his chin thoughtfully. “So you just need me to get this card back?”

“And maybe some proof that this guy stole it,” Chazz adds quickly, trying not to cringe as Aster’s eyes flicker over to him, but the pro silently nods his agreement.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Setting the photos back on the table, Jaden glances at the elevator, makes a face, and walks straight for the balcony. They all watch in confused silence until Jaden leaps off the balcony railing.

Esmerelda screams. “Is he insane?!”

Even Chazz charges toward the balcony, leaning over the edge in terror, only to find Jaden standing calmly on the sidewalk below like he didn’t just jump off the top floor of a fucking skyscraper!

“How?!” Esmerelda gapes, gripping the railing with white knuckles.

“I’m not even gonna question it.” Aster waves a hand as he returns indoors. Sartorius chuckles quietly, the only person who hadn’t made a mad dash after the reckless idiot.

Chazz sinks to the balcony floor, waiting for his heart to finally get the memo that they don’t need to be freaking out anymore. Gods above help them all...

*

Jaden gets the card back and manages to publicly humiliate Mike in the process. Win-win.

At the end of Chazz’s ‘employment’, Aster challenges him to an official PR duel. It’s the first time Chazz has gotten to seriously break out his deck in a while and he fears he’ll be rusty, but the plays come to him easier than they ever had. Oh, he gets it now. When he organized all the cards in the warehouse, he read each one’s effect; he thought about how to play them and combo them with each other. Aster’s deck is easy to read and Chazz pulls off a spectacular win.

Amidst the cheers, Aster holds out his hand. “Nice work. Guess you did learn a thing or two.”

Riding the adrenaline high, Chazz pulls him straight into a hug. Aster grunts, going rigid before awkwardly patting his back.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras.”

Chazz immediately backpedals. “Right! Sorry!” There’s an odd expression in Aster’s eyes as they shake hands properly this time.

*

“Sartorius. I have another problem.”

Sartorius sniggers as Aster predictably sinks into the seat next to him, flipping over the cards in his game of solitaire. “Oh, I don’t think this one is a problem,” he says with confidence, this morning’s card reading still fresh in his mind. “You should ask him out.”

It takes a second. “SARTORIUS!” Aster pushes away from the table, looking positively scandalized. “I don’t have time for a social life let alone a romantic one!”

Humming, Sartorius places a card on its designated stack. “I’m sure you can make the time. After all, you’ve been making time to visit Duel Academy quite frequently of late.”

“For my mental health!” Aster goes on the defensive, but there’s no denying the hint of flush on his cheeks. “And that's not the point! I don’t care if you read it in cards, I’m not just randomly asking him out!”

Sadly, Sartorius knows half of Aster’s reluctance to the idea is because the media would have a field day with any celebrity’s love life, let alone one with...less conventional preferences. That will not, however, prevent Sartorius from teasing his best friend. “How would you prefer to ask him out then?”

With a frustrated whine, Aster glares at Sartorius. “Not at all.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Shut up.”

[roachzrivia]

It's An Elf Thing

A series of events where the party (mainly Dorian) reacts to the Inquisitor doing weird things. Basically, if video game things actually happened. Supposed to be at least a little bit amusing.

Maybe it's just me who always forgets my horse and walks across the entire Hinterlands before remembering. Idk. I thought of this idea after jumping down a cliff and losing almost all my health because I couldn't be bothered to walk the long way round. Also, the trellis climbing at the winter palace makes zero sense, I'm sorry.How have I put 422 hours into this game? Where did my life go?

Gen, implied Dorian/Lavellan, brief implied Iron Bull/Dorian

Also on AO3 (link in my bio)

“Maker’s breath, can you slow down for a moment?” said Dorian, bending over to catch his breath. “It isn’t as if we’re short of time. Any normal person would allow for travelling time, you know.”

“I am allowing for travelling time,” Lavellan’s voice came floating back to him. “My pace just happens to be faster than yours.” But he slowed down, allowing time for Dorian to catch up.

“Couldn’t we have sent someone else on this task?” Dorian settled himself on the ground. It was damp, but he was tired enough not to care. “There have to be some perks that come with being the Inquisitor.”

“Aside from the castle, the army, and every noble in Thedas wanting to be my friend?” Lavellan sat down beside him, folding his long limbs gracefully beneath him.

“Aside from all that,” said Dorian, waving his hand dismissively.

“Nope, can’t think of anything,” said Lavellan, laughing. He leaped to his feet. “Come on, if we take a shortcut, we can make it by nightfall.” He held out a hand to Dorian, who grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Shortcut? There isn’t a shortcut around here,” he said, as he watched Lavellan disappear over the edge of the cliff. “Wait!” He ran over to the edge, heart pounding as he scanned the ground below, hoping desperately not to see Lavellan’s broken body on the ground.

“Ow!”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” muttered Dorian, as he watched Lavellan skid down the side of the mountain, rocks and dirt kicking loose as he went.

“Come on!” Lavellan sprang to his feet. Even from a distance, Dorian could see the cuts and scrapes from the tumble.

“I think I’ll pass on the shortcut,” he said, as he headed along the edge of the cliff, searching for a proper path down.

“Oh, for the love of…” Dorian watched as Lavellan tumbled down yet another cliff, feet sliding on the rocky ground, pebbles and dirt shifting beneath his feet. He took a tumble, somersaulting head over heels, his head bouncing off a rock. He collapsed at the foot of the cliff, body limp and bleeding. “You are going to be the death of me,” muttered Dorian. “You brought this upon yourself. You don’t deserve my magic.” He sighed. “But if I leave you here, Cassandra will probably convince everyone that I pushed you. Very well.” He brandished his staff, reached for the magic, and raised Lavellan back to consciousness with a blaze of green light. “Please,” he called out, as he began to tentatively pick his way down the mountainside. “No more shortcuts.”

Lavellan was already racing away from him, grabbing handfuls of elfroot as he went.

-

“We’ve been walking for absolutely ages,” Sera whined, as she dragged her feet along the path, kicking stones at Lavellan. “When do we get to shoot something? I signed up for more shooting, less walking walking walking!”

The party had been walking for hours. The weather was hot, the road dusty, and no one was feeling particularly cheerful.

“I can’t help feeling as if I’ve forgotten something,” Lavellan mumbled under his breath, chewing on his lip as he gazed around at the small group. “Got my daggers.” He patted the sheaths strapped to his hips, just to make sure. “I’m fully dressed…” He scanned the group. “You’re all fully dressed. Sera has her bow. Dorian has his staff. Bull has… whatever that is,” he said, gesturing at the massive axe strapped to the qunari’s back.

“If I may interject,” said Dorian. “I take umbrage at the comment that we are all fully dressed. What Bull is wearing hardly counts.”

Bull grinned at him. “Would you really have it any other way?”

“I would, actually.”

“Hush, both of you. I’m thinking.”

“Do you perhaps think,” Dorian said carefully, “that you’ve forgotten the horses?”

“What?”

“The horses. You know, the beasts of burden which we spent an awful lot of time and effort securing for the Inquisition, which are, right at this very moment, standing ready for us back at the base camp, half a day’s walk behind us.”

“You mean we could have been riding this whole time?” exclaimed Sera.

“Fuck,” said Lavellan softly, looking back the way they had come. “Horses. I knew I had forgotten something.”

-

“Are we done here?” Dorian watched as Lavellan waded into the lake. The water reached up to his thighs, and whilst Dorian had to admit that the elf did look rather striking in a rustic sort of way, he had been watching this activity for long enough that he was beginning to feel bored. “I would rather we reached camp before nightfall,” he called out.

Lavellan raised a hand in response, and then returned to bending low over the water. He reached down, plucking yet another handful of blood lotus from the water.

Dorian sighed and waited for the Inquisitor to finish.

Finally, Lavellan walked out of the lake, his soaking wet breeches clinging to his legs.

“Ready to go?” Dorian looked pointedly up at the sky, and the sun sinking low.

“Just need to grab a few more herbs,” said Lavellan, darting away to grab at a nearby stalk of elfroot. “And did you bring the pickaxe? There’s an outcropping of obsidian that’s calling my name.”

“Surely the Inquisition could spare someone other than the Inquisitor for this job,” muttered Dorian, as he followed after Lavellan.

-

The party arrived back at camp in good time. The Storm Coast had been wet and grey, as usual, but the rain had finally eased, and everyone was looking forward to a warm meal before crawling into their bedrolls for the night.

“Just a moment,” said Lavellan, stopping in front of the requisitions officer. “Just got a few bits and pieces I picked up enroute that I figured might help the cause.”

“Thank you, sir. Every little bit will help out men in the field.”

Lavellan began opening his pockets. First, out came handfuls of herbs, which he handed directly to the officer. She took them, her arms quickly overflowing as Lavellan laid more and more picked plants into her arms.

“Is this why you fell so far behind us?” Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow. “Planning on quitting being the Inquisitor and becoming a gardener instead?”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” said Lavellan, pulling off his boot and tupping the contents out onto the requisition table. A handful of gemstones tumbled onto the table.

“Now that surely can’t have been comfortable.”

The requisitions officer watched on, eyes wide, as Lavellan opened his coat to reveal reams of fabrics tucked up in his belt and braces.

“For the boats,” he explained, as he laid them on the table.

“And here I thought you had just been eating more than your share at mealtimes,” Dorian quipped.

“Thank you-” began the officer.

“And the metal,” Lavellan said, turning to his horse to empty the saddle bags.

“By Andraste’s sweet arse, how did you manage to carry all of that without collapsing?” asked Dorian.

Lavellan just grinned and continued loading resources onto the requisitions table.

-

“So, the plan is to be as inconspicuous as possible?” asked Dorian.

“That is correct,” said Cassandra.

“To infiltrate the palace without any of the numerous political functions noticing us, and without disturbing the other guests?”

“Yes…” said Cassandra slowly.

“That what in Andraste’s name is the Inquisitor doing?” Dorian jerked his head at the scene behind him. Cassandra’s eyes widened.

“Inquisitor…?”

Dressed in all his finery, and in front of hundreds of guests, Lavellan was scaling the trellis up the side of the palace wall. People were pointing and tittering behind their hands.

“Might want to rethink that plan, Cassandra,” said Dorian, smirking as he watched Lavellan climb up and over the top, disappearing into the depths of the palace.

Later, when Lavellan reappeared, Dorian pulled him to one side.

“I have to ask,” he said. “All of this climbing. Is it another elf thing?”

“An elf thing?”

“You know, because of living out in nature, with all of those… trees.”

Lavellan laughed. “Dorian, darling, not everything I do is an ‘elf’ thing. Sometimes, it’s just a ‘me’ thing. Now, are you saving a dance for me?”

“Of course. If you don’t get yourself arrested or assassinated before the end of the night, it might even be the most scandalous event of the entire ball.”

-

“What is that?” The horror in Dorian’s voice was palpable.

“New horse,” said Lavellan, climbing up into the saddle. “There’s one for you as well.”

“I am not riding that monstrosity. I don’t know who told you it was a horse, but whoever it was has clearly been indulging in too much wine.”

“You’re scared!”

“I am not scared,” said Dorian, eyeing the creature with distaste. “There is a different between scared and sensible and I assure you, right now I am the latter.”

The creature stared back at him; its black, soulless eyes boring into him. It shook its head, and Dorian leapt back to avoid being impaled on the massive horn rising from its forehead.

“Come on,” said Lavellan, voice wheedling.

“Can’t I just ride a normal horse?”

“But we need to match.”

Dorian looked at the second beast, the one which he was expected to ride. It was so thin that its ribcage was visible beneath its black fur.

“I would rather walk.”

“All the way to Crestwood? It’s only a bog unicorn, Dorian.”

“You are an infuriating man,” said Dorian, scowling. “Very well. But next time, please can we use the Fereldan horses? They don’t smell as bad.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 25

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 25: Some have trouble adapting to home again. Some are gearing up for trouble they’re going to cause.

           By August of that year, Barney was locked away in the asylum. It happened so suddenly. Although he certainly hadn’t been himself since his last gunshot wound in the trenches, everyone had hoped that he would reacclimate as time went on. But his behavior only got worse. He was prone to violent outbursts that he didn’t even remember seconds after.

           Tommy and the rest of the 179th did their best to try and keep him calm and out of trouble. But there was only so much they could do. A few episodes at the Garrison was one thing. Harry could accept that the man was clearly out of his mind and not doing it on purpose. But the rest of the public world couldn’t understand.

           Barney was arrested a few times. But his was committed after he bit a cop and tried to escape jail. He was deemed insane soon after.

           Amelia knew Tommy took it very hard. They all did. These men who were parts of their lives were suddenly changed beyond a point of return. And there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t visit Barney and they couldn’t get Danny’s fits under control either.

           Rosie was at her wit's end and relied heavily on support from Amelia. Consequently, this allowed Tommy to slip back into his habits of working all hours of the day.

           Amelia noticed this a few months in, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Before the war, she had no problem laying into him about working himself to death. But after? Well, she didn’t know what to even say. She felt guilty about being strict about anything. In her mind, he had been through enough. Why should she scold him on something that was small compared to the grand scheme of things?

           But she wasn’t blind either. Amelia was aware that he never slept more than a few hours at a time. She couldn’t find the warmth in his eyes anymore. He was less outspoken than before and had a habit of sitting in stony silence instead of speaking out. He was energetic with the kids, at least as much as he could be on the amount of sleep he was getting.

           Amelia was grateful for that. Although it hurt to know Tommy had changed so much, at least the kids wouldn’t realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Amelia went into the betting shop one sweltering afternoon to bring Tommy lunch. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had been absent during dinner the night before. But there was no sign of him. She went into Arthur’s office to see where he was.

           “He came in early this morning, was here before everyone else.” Her brother-in-law answered. “He left ‘bout an hour ago saying he would be back later.”            

           “He didn’t say where he would be?” Amelia asked, her concern growing.

           Arthur shook his head. “I asked but he never answered.”

           She chewed on her lip. “Okay…well.” She considered waiting but figured her nerves would get the better of her. “Here, you can have this.” She gave Arthur the lunch before leaving the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Small Heath wasn’t particularly large, but that didn’t mean he was even there. He could’ve gone beyond the neighborhood. She started with Charlie’s Yard. That’s where Annie and Max were for the day. They were cranky inside because of the heat so she sent them to both Charlie for the morning.

           “Haven’t seen him,” Charlie said, sitting on a stool in the shade while he watched the kids. Curly was showing them a grasshopper he’d found in one of the horse stalls. The kids were so taken by the discovery that they didn’t even notice their mother arriving.

           “Do you know where he might’ve gone?” Amelia asked hopefully.

           “Whenever he’d get in a mood, he’d go to the graveyard to visit his mum,” Charlie replied. “I’d look there.”

           “Thank you,” Amelia said gratefully, hoping Tommy’s uncle was right.

           Across the yard, Annie squealed. The grasshopper had jumped out of Curly’s cupped hand and was on the loose. Max ran to try and catch it again. They were both so caught up in the summer fun, that she wasn’t going to interrupt it with her nerves.

           “I’ll be back to take them off your hands,” Amelia promised Charlie.

           “S’alright. They’re not hurting anyone.” He nodded before she went off toward the graveyard.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Charlie was right. Amelia found Tommy among the overgrown grass and crooked headstones. But he wasn’t standing in front of his mother’s grave. Hers was a few rows down. No, he was standing in the newer section in front of a newer plot.

           “Tom.” Amelia hated interrupting him while he was in deep thought, but she was just thankful she’d found him.

           He glanced over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he reached for her hand. She took it as she stood beside him. That’s when she noticed they were in front of Greta Jurossi’s grave.

           “When I got the letter from you, the one where you said she had died, I didn’t believe it.” He spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough to hear over the sound of cicadas in the grass. “I dunno, I just thought she was going to be the one to upset the system. One of those historical figures that people talk about.”

           Amelia knew that he and Greta shared the same ideologies. Aspirations that she was afraid of but Greta wasn’t. He had respect for her.

           “I know.” She said gently. “She would come by sometimes to the shop. She and Polly would always get worked up about the rights of women and the working class.” She smiled weakly.

           Tommy nodded, his eyes staring into space. “You were right, though.”

           “About what?”

           “When you came back, I was telling you about the communist group. You didn’t think it was enough to change the world.” He recalled. “And you were right.”

           “Tom…”

           “You don’t have to say anything.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more to say.”

           Young Tommy Shelby had so many dreams and a drive to change everything he saw as unjust. But the world had taken him in its fist and squeezed the convictions out of him. It had forced him into the mold of a soldier. Forced him to comply. Killed off Greta, killed her message.

           But Tommy wasn’t dead yet. There was a new fire lit inside of him. “Politics, laws, parties. It doesn’t matter. You can’t win if you play by their rules.”

           “So, what are you-”

           He began to walk back down the path, still holding her hand. “Everything will be alright.” He promised her. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           The two went back to the Yard to bring the children home with them. Charlie was still taking refuge in the shade, smoking a pipe and watching Annie running around in the mud.

           “You found him then.” He commented as Amelia and Tommy came up to him.

           “Not a lot of places you can hide in Small Heath,” Tommy replied to his uncle.

           “I hope they weren’t a fuss, Charlie.” Amelia ignored her husband’s glib response.

           “I’ll tell you what, that boy of yours is just like you, Tom,” Charlie remarked. “Full of energy but once he’s around a horse, he’s quiet as a mouse.”

           “I’m sure you taught him well then.”

           “I didn’t teach him anything.” He shook his head. “Must be the Traveler blood in him.”  

           “He doesn’t have Traveler blood, Charlie,” Tommy muttered in reply.

           “Well, then it’s fucking intuition, hell if I know.” His uncle rolled his eyes, his pipe still tucked between his lips as he spoke.

           “Hell, if you know.” Tommy shook his head. “You better not have been teaching him that kind of fucking language.” He warned before heading toward the horse stalls to find Max.

           “That one has Traveler blood in her.” Charlie pointed his pipe toward Annie. The little girl had ruined her skirt by stomping around in the mud by the canal. She had a loose hold on her teddy bear that seemed just as filthy from the morning’s play.

           “You think?”

           “Reminds me of Pol when she was little. An absolute terror but you’d be happy to see her come around. Max will be a gifted rider, like Tom. But Annie won’t back down from a challenge, no matter how many times she’s bucked off.”

           The thought of her precious daughter being bucked off a horse was a nightmare to Amelia. But she knew that there was no forcing Annie into being someone she wasn’t. Amelia knew that all too well. Her family wanted her to be a lady of high society. They wanted her to be proper, educated but not too educated, and a million miles beyond Small Heath. But she was aware that she was a girl of lower class. Her upbringing was nothing compared to the socialites in London. She ran the streets with the Shelbys much to her parents’ discontent. And while she wasn’t as fierce and feisty as Tommy and Arthur, she didn’t mind living in Small Heath. She loved the people there.

           The more her parents pushed, the more she rebelled. In London, she felt empty. She had no friends because all the girls her age were boring to her. London felt cold and desolate to her. Sure, the place they lived in was nicer, but it didn’t matter.

           So, if Annie wanted to be a wild girl who flocked to dangerous horses, then there really wasn’t a thing Amelia could do about it. Not with Tommy’s blood in her.

~~~~~~~~~~

           “Not even half a year since he’s come back and you’re already up the duff, again.”

           Martha and Amelia snickered behind their hands. It was true. Martha was pregnant again and Polly was bewildered by the revelation.

           “Oh, Pol, it’s okay.” Amelia smiled. "It was bound to happen once John came back."

           “You and John are getting your own flat, or I'll get my own. I’ve had more than enough newborns in this house at one time.” Polly replied firmly.

           “I suppose that’s only fair.” Martha agreed. Six Watery Lane had become quite the den of rascals. “At least John is home and can help me with the other two."

           “And make sure he does. Those three have been working themselves to death.” Polly shook her head in disapproval. “And it’s all Tommy’s doing.” She glanced at Amelia.

           “I think they’re just trying to find their place in the world again.” Amelia shrugged. “Remember when they were gone? We had to adapt to the world. Now they do too.”

           Polly didn’t look convinced. “When a Shelby man is working like the devil, that means there’s going to be trouble.” She warned.

           It did speak to the conversation she and Tommy had earlier in the graveyard. “He did seem to have some plans.” She admitted. “But he didn’t say what.”

           Polly continued to smoke by the kitchen table where Amelia and Martha were sitting. “One can only guess what goes on in that head of his.”

           Amelia looked down at her lap. As his wife, she thought she would be the one to know. But she felt just as blind as the rest of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           It was a rare night, but one that Amelia rejoiced in having. After dinner, she got the kids washed up and put in bed. After Tommy kissed them each goodnight, he returned to the master bedroom and caught Amelia before she even made it to her vanity.

           Without a word, he kissed her deeply. He pressed her up against the door as he locked it to avoid any awkward situations if one of the children wandered in unannounced.

           It was so easy for Amelia to forget everything when Tommy held her. She could rejoice in the fact that in those brief moments, she was taken care of. There was nothing to interrupt them, nothing to cause them harm, it was just the two of them. They were the moments Amelia yearned for when he was in France. The moments where she could keep him close and cast aside the ugliness of the world.      

           But the feeling couldn’t last and they were brought back to Earth as the night wore on. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company in the dead hours of the night. Amelia curled up in the crook of his arm, tracing the new scars on his chest that he’d obtained in the trenches. He held her close as he smoked.

           Eventually, he broke the silence and uttered a rare confession to her. “I’m going to do bad things, Mel.”

           The admission sent a chill up her spine. Yet, it was something she already knew. Something she’d known even in childhood when adults would comment on Tommy’s proclivity for mischief. When they remarked how his father was nothing but a waste of space. When they speculated how Tommy would live up to the Shelby name. A name cursed.

           “I know.” She whispered. From then on, she was complicit. Her wish to stay in Small Heath as a child had brought her to that point. Her wishes for Tommy to stay out of danger had fallen upon deaf ears as she should’ve realized. But if she wanted a quiet, polite, bland husband, she would’ve stayed in London to marry one. Instead, she was with someone who was destined to be one of the most dangerous men in Britain.

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[friendshipcampaign]

Sweet Foods, Sweeter Words

A downtime featuring Erwyn and Palava that takes place the evening of the first full day the party spent in Wayspell after getting back from the trials.

A note: A handful of phrases have been omitted as they originally contained backstory details that haven’t yet come up in-campaign, but Scribe and I wanted to share this story anyways.

Mentally checking the address for the third or fourth time since he’d arrived following a bit of a nerve-wracking trip -- at least, for him -- through the Wayspell of the early morning, Erwyn prepared to raise a hand to knock on the door of the location Palava had told him the two planar researchers would be staying at during their time in Wayspell. Not for the first time, he half-wondered if he should have asked one of the others to come with him to find an unfamiliar place in the city, but this had been a visit he felt he needed to make alone, and he supposed so long as he had the right location now it would probably be alright. 

Swallowing his anxiety and hoping this was the place, he gave three swift raps on the door.

His knocks were greeted with a skittering noise like a startled cat. This was followed by a moment of silence, several shuffling sounds, and one loud thunk. Palava opened the door, rubbing his forehead. His demeanor changed as soon as he recognized the young elf on his doorstep.

"Erwyn!" he cried. "How lovely--" He paused midsentence, apparently remembering that his normal boisterous speaking volume was somewhat less than appropriate for that hour of the morning.

"How lovely to see you!" he finished in a stage whisper.

“It’s very nice to see you as well,” Erwyn said, struggling quite a lot less with volume considerations. “I hope I’m not being a bother, coming here without exactly announcing my intention to.”

"Not at all! I said you were welcome to stop by and I meant it!"

“I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything, I’d hate… I’d hate to interrupt.”

Palava shook his head. "Nothing at all. I'd been planning to read, but I just couldn't get settled. You have to be so quiet around people who sleep, and I get so antsy. A visit from a friend is just what I needed tonight!"

Erwyn felt his cheeks flush a little at the description of himself as a friend by the far older, far more accomplished researcher. He hadn’t even known him all that long. It threw him, and he could only hope that the increased twitching of his ears wasn’t too obvious.

“That’s very… that’s… that’s good to hear,” he said, catching himself babbling. “I… You, um… I know that at one point you mentioned there were some places in Wayspell that… that might be nice to visit. I was thinking that.... I thought that might be an option tonight, just so we don’t wake anyone?”

The whole last sentence of his came out as a sort of nervous squeak.

Palava beamed at him. "I have just the place! Hold on a moment, just let me..."

He trailed off into incomprehensible mumbling as he turned back to the building, folding up his gangly frame to fit through a door which, while certainly not halfling-sized like many of the older buildings in Wayspell, had also not been built to accommodate someone of Palava's height. After a few moments he emerged again, a satchel flung across his shoulder.

"Alright, then! Follow me!" He set off through the darkened streets.

At first, Erwyn, who while well-accustomed to travel was not only not the heartiest (and never had been), but also a foot shorter in height and stride than the older elf, had some trouble keeping pace with him, but it was only a block or so before Palava drew up short.

"Oh, pardon me! Always rushing off; you'd think I would have learned by now!" He waited for Erwyn to catch up and when he began to walk again it was at a much gentler pace.

"So," said Palava as they rounded the corner, "How have you been enjoying Wayspell? Has Hue tried to convince y'all to break into the old Post Office yet? Don't listen to her; it never ends well."

“Does… does she do that frequently?” Erwyn asked. 

Palava nodded. "Sure does! Don't know if there's really something she wants to find in there or if she just gets real riled up by all the "Keep Out!" signs, but she brings it up most times we're in the area."

Erwyn tried to imagine the Gatekeepers, who he still saw as such accomplished people given their line of work, even if Hubris seemed to be a bit of a baffling case, to him, at least, doing something like breaking into a post office. Even if it was a somewhat mysterious one, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Then again, the comment about it possibly being due to the “Keep Out!” signs reminded him a bit of Amaranth -- not to say he was certain he and his friends were quite operating on the same level professionally, but perhaps one couldn’t always predict their company even for important matters.

“I hope it hasn’t ever lead to too much trouble,” he finally said, a little at a loss for what else to say.

Palava laughed out loud. "Everything Hubris does leads to trouble. She'd be awful bored otherwise!"

They turned onto a wider street, and Palava gestured at the buildings around them. "Have you had a chance to explore the city at all? I know we've probably been keeping you busy."

Feeling some of his anxiety bubble back up again, Erwyn shook his head, hoping to quash it as best he could without having to confess too much to someone he’d really rather not have to risk thinking poorly of him were he completely truthful. Again, though, he could feel his ears starting to twitch more than he’d like.

“Ah, um, no,” he said carefully. “I haven’t really wanted to, it’s been sort of... intimidating.”

"Too loud? Cities are hard like that--makes me miss the Underdark."

“Among… among other things, yes,” Erwyn said.

Palava shot him a curious look, but didn't press the matter. "Well, I promise that where we're going everyone's real good about keeping calm. They put up a Silence spell around it during the day, but unless it's a festival night it's not something they gotta worry about at this hour."

“Oh, that actually sounds really lovely,” Erwyn said. “That’s very considerate of them.”

"Yeah, they're real nice! Not too many people in cities who know how to make elves feel at ease, but Anna and Marigold are real good about it. Helps that Anna's got some elvish blood herself, but even that doesn't always mean a place'll be comfortable. We're nearly there; just a few more streets!"

Palava led the way past more rows of empty buildings. For a city it was quite dark outside, illuminated only by globes of magical light mounted on the street corners, but compared to the wilderness it still seemed uncomfortably bright. Erwyn felt like, even after years of time spent in and out of some of the larger populated areas of Ashona, his eyes would never adjust to the glow of streetlamps -- like stars, where stars shouldn’t be.

Striding around a final corner, Palava flung his arms out wide and pointed at a building halfway up the next block. It was one of the only shopfronts that was still lit that late at night--or early in the morning. The building itself wasn't remarkable; it was built of the same wood and brick that made up most of Wayspell. But the sign above the door glowed with a soft silver luminance. Written on it, in both Elvish and Common characters, Erwyn could read the word "Lissecoa."

"Here we are!" Palava declared.

Suddenly, Erwyn found himself freezing a little. Of course, from the way Palava had talked, it didn’t exactly seem like they were visiting an establishment that even had any right to be giving him this kind of anxiety, but being confronted again, after some time since it had last occurred, by a place that seemed so distinctly Elvish was not exactly the easiest of things he could be doing with his evening. Especially not in Wayspell, which made him nervous for its own reasons.

While he’d certainly felt shy for a bit now, he suddenly also felt very small.

Palava paused at the door. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking concerned.

“I… I’m fine,” Erwyn said.

And really, he should be. It was silly of him to be made so anxious by something so mundane as an outing to a bakery. It wasn’t like, even if it was more of a traditional place, they would ask him about his magical abilities at the door -- or ever. But years of skirting around circumstances where someone might so much as offhandedly inquire about that sort of thing died hard. 

"We don't have to stay long if you'd rather walk," Palava said. "But they make some of the best pecconelle I've ever tasted! Come on."

He opened the door and gently ushered Erwyn inside. 

The interior of the bakery swept over him in several stages. First, of course, came the smell, as it would with any place serving food, but this time especially so due to the assorted layers of ingredients and flavors mixed up in the air that Erwyn didn’t think he’d caught in those particular combinations since maybe even thirty years or so prior. But the rest of the inside, too, conjured other memories -- the foliage growing directly up from the floor in much the same way as the walls of the Isilmë family home, the minimal, lower-to-the ground furniture than you would find in a human or halfling tavern so very like the kinds he’d grown up around.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Mae govannen, Palava!"

The speaker, a plump, red-haired woman with slight points on her ears, waved at them from behind the counter. Still in Elvish, she continued, "It's been a while since you stopped by. Lovely to see you again. You'll be having the usual, I take it?"

Palava returned her wave. "You know, I just can't decide yet. Everything smells spectacular, as always!"

"Well, take a seat and consider as long as you want. And your friend, too!"

Palava contrived to fold himself up onto one of the low benches. Erwyn just followed him, numbly, feeling like if he thought too hard even about trying to take a seat, it would be too much.

"I don't know about you," said Palava, "But I always feel like having a little nibble of something after I finish trancing! They do a lovely little sampler if you'd care to split it. And the teas really are to die for!"

“That… that sounds nice,” Erwyn said. Doubly so, because while he was sure it would be delicious, he also didn’t think he’d really be capable of browsing their offerings all that clearly himself.

Palava unfolded and strode back to the counter, where he had a characteristically excited conversation with the baker. When he returned, he was carrying a tray laden with a low, round teapot, two small cups, and several pastries neatly arranged on a leaf-shaped ceramic plate. He placed it down on the table in front of them with a flourish.

"You know," said Palava, pouring himself a cup of fragrant tea, "It was interesting for me, growing up in the Underdark. All surface food seemed so exotic, even the elvish stuff. My amil would get packages sent from her family and it was the most exciting thing when they arrived. Now I miss the mushrooms and the móriyávë, but I still feel so decadent getting to eat nuts and aboveground fruits all the time! Have you ever been to the Underdark?"

Shaking his head, Erwyn cautiously reached for some tea himself -- he hoped it was the kind that would be calming, and not the other way around. It seemed that his hands were also shaking, and some of the drink sloshed unceremoniously as he tried to pour it into a cup of his own. As if he wasn’t feeling out-of-place enough all of a sudden, the less-than-perfect attempt made him feel as though invisible eyes were boring into him from all sides, critical of the fact that he couldn’t even do such a small thing properly, much less recall all the intricacies of all the ceremony he was used to being tied up with Elvish tea.

“No I… I’ve only ever been to, um, some of the places where there are entrances,” he said, voice wavering. “But not that far into any of them, beyond… beyond the markets that sometimes spring up there.”

"Well, if you ever do go," Palava continued, giving no sign he'd noticed Erwyn's mishap with the tea, "Let me know and I can give you some pointers! Not that I think you'd be on the tourist track, but it's nice to have some local knowledge regardless, and some of the folks down there do like to mess about with upworlders. The Svirfneblin are always pranking people with ghost stories!"

He reached out to snap one of the pastries in half, taking a dainty bite out of one end. 

"Fabulous as ever, Anna!" he called out to the woman at the counter. She chuckled under her breath in response.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Erwyn took another deep breath.

“I… I’m sorry. I don’t seem to have as much of an appetite as I was expecting,” he told Palava.

It was true -- he’d really hoped this could be nice. He’d wanted it to be nice. But if that had even been possible in the first place, he seemed to have messed up the part where he made it happen, because instead he was just feeling shaky and awful and a little sick, and it wasn’t Palava’s fault, or the fault of the people who ran this place who seemed very nice, and he didn’t want to feel like it was his fault, but he wasn’t sure how else he could end up feeling so sad.

Tears were pricking a little at the corner of his eyes. Erwyn wished he’d just stayed and done some reading back at the inn.

"Hey," said Palava softly. "It's all right. We can get these wrapped up to go if you think you might get peckish later. Should we just head out, then? I know some paths around the edge of the city that are real nice for walking around at night if you'd rather be outside."

“I don’t know,” Erwyn said, quietly.

One of Palava's hands hovered in the air by Erwyn's shoulder for a moment, as if the older elf wasn't sure whether contact would be comforting or not.

"Well, that's all right too. We can sit here until you know how you feel; there's no rush. Would you like to hear some more about the Underdark?"

Erwyn nodded. He clutched his tea a little tighter, trying to focus on the warmth of the cup instead of everything else. Warmth was nice.

Palava launched into a story about how the Deep Gnomes near where he grew up had stymied a ring of mushroom smugglers that the local halflings had been trying to get rid of for months. He was an engaged if not a particularly linear speaker, waving his hands animatedly as he talked.

As the story went on, Erwyn realized he was only feeling worse -- usually, hearing someone talk about their home or their family couldn’t have this effect on him alone. He often even liked it, hearing Kriv offhandedly mention one of his siblings, or Ditto babble excitedly about a Gnomish holiday he wasn’t himself familiar with. 

But right now he felt a little too surrounded by things that reminded him of his own home, and was still, even if he’d been trying to quash it down, reeling a little from the whole mess in the trials with the simulation of Carceri, and everything just felt like too much. He clutched his cup so tightly he could feel an uncomfortable warmness in his fingertips, and the little tears that had pricked at his eyes earlier got bigger, and escaped. He bit his lip, wishing he could keep himself from being quite so visibly upset, but it wasn’t to much avail.

Palava stopped talking. He pulled a large purple handkerchief from one of his pockets and handed it over to Erwyn.

"I'm sorry, Erwyn. I shouldn't... give me a minute to have Anna wrap these up and we can go for a walk. All right?"

Erwyn nodded, unthinkingly wiping his eyes with his sleeve before it really registered what he’d been handed. He blinked, then wiped them again with the handkerchief.

He could hear Palava saying, "Anna? My friend and I will have to head out a little earlier than I thought... if you could, that would be just dandy... yes, actually, I do, hang on..."

After a moment Palava re-appeared, this time slipping the wrapped-up pastries into his satchel. He offered Erwyn a hand.

"Shall we?"

Still feeling like being quiet -- or really, like quiet was the only thing he could be -- Erwyn accepted the offer and rose shakily to his feet.

Palava shepherded him out the door and back onto the street.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It was too much, wasn't it?"

“It’s not your fault,” Erwyn said, sadness creeping into his voice once more. “I hoped it would be okay.”

Palava started walking down the street, this time keeping a gentle pace from the outset. Erwyn moved with him, feeling almost as though if he didn’t he would get lost in the night.

They walked in silence for a while. Palava seemed to be leading them away from the center of the city towards where the outer walls loomed against the sky.

"Let me know if you want to go back," he said gently. "I find walking helps but I don't know what helps you. And I don't intend to pry, but if you do want to talk I'm good at listening. Fenmarel thinks that's pretty important, at least as I was taught."

It took a moment for Erwyn to decide to say anything, and once he made up his mind that he was going to, he found himself perched somewhere between wanting to say very little and say everything. After all, he didn’t tend to talk about these things at all, if only because he didn’t see much point in opening up old wounds he couldn’t heal. He’d been with his current traveling companions for some time now, and said much less about much more important things. 

But he also wasn’t really tight-lipped out of a desire for secrecy -- mostly, he just didn’t say things because he thought they would hurt, and he preferred to keep them inside, the same way people very much preferred their blood and things to be inside their bodies and didn’t go seeking ways to get them out. Every once and a while, he did come across someone he actually talked about his past to. At least, about certain things. He’d already shared more with the party in just the last couple of weeks than he’d said to most people about himself in the same number of decades. Maybe it was time for him to rip himself open a little in the presence of the kind of person that he felt, or at least hoped, would be able to patch him up. He’d done it before, in bits and pieces -- to Lissë, to Sermë, to Rayne, and to a handful of others. It made as much sense as anything to spill some of the hurt loneliness inside him to someone listening on the behalf of the god of the lonely.

“I miss my home,” he said finally, and as soon as the words tumbled from his lips, they wouldn’t stop. “I miss the way that the trees smelled there, and the birds sounded, and I miss the way it always felt familiar even when the seasons were changing. I miss the songs you could hear being sung from the temple to Sehanín, and I miss when Hrívecala would come around and I would share my birthday with the celebrations, and I miss the taste of lissemasta and the smell of freshly-picked olospië that we would gather around our house. I miss watching Atya make notes in his spellbook, and Amya playing her harp, and... and...”

He was crying again, a lot this time, and even though it still felt like there were a million words on the tip of his tongue, he bit them back, because it also felt like he’d said too much already.

Palava had stopped walking when Erwyn began to speak, and now he stepped closer, resting a hand on Erwyn's shoulder. "Hey," he said, carefully watching Erwyn's face for a reaction. "How do you feel about hugs?"

“They’re… they’re rather nice,” Erwyn said, sniffling.

"Oh, good," said Palava. "I think so too!"

And then Erwyn found himself enveloped in Palava's wiry arms. The other elf was so much taller that his chin rested on the top of Erwyn's head. He didn't say anything, just stood there holding him while he cried.

Erwyn, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to muster much ability to return the embrace. He brought his hands up as if he intended to, but it was like all the strength had tumbled out of him along with his words, so instead he just sort of buried himself into Palava and limply fell into the hug, dimly aware that he was probably getting both their clothes wet with his tears, but not particularly in any state of mind to even try to do something about it. Eventually, they slowed, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of any actual catharsis or if his eyes had just decided they didn’t have anything left to cry.

Palava made little soothing noises and petted his hair, like someone trying to soothe an upset child or an injured animal.

"How long has it been?" he asked quietly.

Erwyn sniffled, gathering himself together. “I… I don’t know the exact number of years. They all sort of blurred and I didn’t think to keep careful count until it was too late. It’s been several… several decades at this point, though.”

He felt Palava stiffen, just for a second.

"You've... been on your own all that time?"

“Most of… most of it,” he said. “Sometimes not. Sometimes people help. Having a group like my friends now is fairly new, though.”

"Your friends seem like real good people," said Palava. "I'm glad you have them. I know it doesn't help, though, with the missing."

Erwyn shrugged. “It helps a little. At least… well... it means I’m not alone.”

Palava nodded. Since he hadn't yet stepped back from the hug, it meant that his chin bobbed gently against the crown of Erwyn's head.

"Being alone isn't good for folks like us. Of course, I don't think it's really good for anyone, but the loneliness does tend to hit us awful hard. I'm sorry you've had to face it for as long as you did."

While Erwyn’s tears had stilled at least a little, or at least enough for him to hold the conversation they were having, Palava’s words suddenly felt like they’d hit something critical in him -- like the psoglav, tearing him open, or another onslaught he had no way of weathering without help -- and suddenly they were back, ugly and wracking and all trying to rush out at once. 

It was still a little bit due to memories he felt like he’d been fighting. But this time, he mostly felt like he couldn’t contain all his emotions inside himself because it was like getting hit by the chill of Rose’s breath all over again, the shock of hearing someone tell him they were sorry about it. He was used to feeling like it was his mistake, or instances like recently, when Maudlin seemed to imply it was his own fault for ending up so far away from his home and family. Rarely -- if ever -- did anyone say that they were sorry he’d had to weather it at all.

Palava held him tighter, rocking the two of them softly back and forth. "Hey," he whispered, over and over. "Hey, it's okay. You're allowed to be sad; you're allowed to be sorry. You shouldn't have had to live like that." 

The reassurances blurred as Palava kept talking, words tumbling into each other until they were nothing but soothing background noise. Erwyn leaned into him, letting the older elf’s kindness wash over him until his tears started to fade away again, leaving him feeling the weird sort of hollowed-out that being very sad often did, even when you started to feel a little less so.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled eventually. “I… I can’t imagine this was how you intended for tonight to go.”

"Well, no," Palava admitted. "Not intended, certainly. But Erwyn, it's all right. I wouldn't have taken up the service of a god who watches over the lost and the outcast unless I was prepared to watch over them myself as best as I can. Gettin' a few tears on my robe is hardly the worst thing I've gone through. It's happened before, and I'm sure it'll happen again before too long. And I'm the one who asked you to talk in the first place."

Had he not already, effectively, dried himself out, Erwyn was sure the additional kind words would have caused him to cry too, but at this point he just felt his lip quaver a little. He nodded, then pulled himself away to wipe some of the remaining tears off his face. He went to use his sleeve again and only remembered about halfway through the handkerchief that he’d been given earlier, which he’d crumpled in his pocket. 

“I think… I mean… I think that I mostly just cried at you.”

"Hey now, there were a few words there at the beginning!" said Palava. "And as long as you're in Wayspell, if there are more you want to get out, you know where to find me."

“I feel a bit like both everything’s already been said and like there’s still so much else that I couldn’t say it all in a hundred years,” Erwyn said, sadly. He didn’t know how else to put it -- it was like being emptied out and hungry for someone to listen all at once. 

It was one reason he didn’t usually share too much about himself -- it always left him feeling very strange whenever he did.

"Well," said Palava, "Being an elf I ought to be around in a hundred years if it really does take you that long." He smiled tentatively. "Should we finish the loop I was taking us on or just head back? Or are your legs too wobbly to start moving just yet? I know I turn into a jelly-jar after I've been crying."

“I’m… I’m usually a little wobbly,” Erwyn admitted. “But I do feel sort of extra so right now.”

"All right." Palava plopped down onto the pavement. "Let's rest here for a bit, then. We've still got those nibbles if you feel up to a bite, and I brought some water if that would help with the wobblyness."

The sudden shift from being a foot shorter than Palava than wildly high above him was slightly disconcerting, and Erwyn looked around a bit to see if anyone else was awake in the early morning and had noticed them as he felt a bit self-conscious, but the streets of Wayspell were fairly inactive at this point in the morning, so eventually he gently lowered himself to sit as well.

“Water would be… I mean if you’ve got it on you… I’d… I’d like some water, yes,” he said.

Palava rummaged around in his satchel, which, judging by how far he stuck his arm inside, appeared to have some extradimensional qualities, and eventually emerged, triumphantly holding a waterskin. He handed it over to Erwyn.

"There you are!"

Erwyn accepted it gratefully, taking a long drink and then just sort of cradling it once he finished. It was nice to sit there, in the dark, and hold it while he slowly started to feel like a person again. But eventually he decided he was up for asking another question.

“What… what food did you bring from the bakery?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I was a little distracted -- I didn’t actually catch much of a look at what you brought over.”

"Well!" said Palava, "We've got some pecconelle, mírinci, a nísimacornë, and half a lirincalë."

“Could I maybe have one of the mírinci?” Erwyn asked. “I still haven’t got much of an appetite, but that does sound nice.”

Palava excavated the pastries from his satchel and unwrapped the outer layer of paper carefully. He held the box out towards Erwyn. The mírinci glistened in the light of the streetlamps.

Erwyn selected one gently, holding up the little candy in his hand and watching the light dance around over its surface. He hadn’t meant to end up taking such a long look at it, but of course, like everything, it felt more complicated than it ought to.

“There was someone back home who knew how to make really beautiful mírinci,” he said, slowly, moving the one he held in his fingertips so it would catch the light at a particularly nice angle. “I think he must use magic, somehow, but he always liked being secretive about it.”

Palava took a candy of his own and turned it back and forth in the light for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

"I know my amya's family used magic when they made them," he said. "No way to get them to glitter properly in the dark without it. I don't know how they did it, though; amya was useless in the kitchen so she never taught me."

Putting his own candy in his mouth, Erwyn rolled it around with his tongue for a bit, somewhat contemplative before he said anything else. The little explosion of sweetness was nice, especially after having ended up getting some of his salty tears in his mouth earlier.

“I think that… I think I might like to go back to the bakery, sometime before we leave Wayspell. It was too much tonight, but the tea seemed very nice and I really have missed Elvish food,” he said, though his cheeks flushed a little as soon as he said it. “Assuming I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself, getting so upset tonight.”

"You're fine," said Palava. "I'd love to go back with you. Just let me know when. And hey, if you ever feel like checking out some of the other Elvish places in the city, I'd be happy to show you those too! There's a couple other bakeries, and one or two real nice restaurants that do proper meals, and it wouldn't be your brand of Elvish but I really do think everyone should try this great little Drow fusion place at the edge of Oldtown! If you and your friends are helping us out, you ought to be back in Wayspell a fair bit. Can't guarantee where Alembic and I will be, but we try to get back when we can. I do hope we'll get to see each other often enough that I can show you around to all my favorite places in Wayspell."

“That would be really lovely,” Erwyn said, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’d be happy to see more of you, too. And thank you for listening tonight, I know I’m often not the best at talking.”

Palava flapped a hand in his general direction. "This kind of talking isn't something you have to be good at. I'm happy to listen to whatever words you get out. And I know it ain't the same as having someone here with you, but Fenmarel's good at listening, too. I don't know if you're the sort to do much praying or if it's any kind of comfort, but I promise you he does care for wanderers like you and me."

Erwyn was quiet for a moment.

“I used to be a little more the type,” he said. “Sometimes, when I was younger, I would try speaking to Sehanín -- she was the primary goddess of the community I grew up in, and has her whole sphere about journeys, which I figured I was on. But while I certainly consider them frequently, I don’t talk to any of the gods all that much anymore. I… I feel like I’ve turned out to be a bit disappointing. They’ve probably got more important people to listen to than me.”

"But that doesn't mean they won't listen to you," said Palava. "The gods may have to pick and choose how they apportion their powers, but they don't pick and choose who they listen to. Especially not the ones I serve. I'm not saying you have to speak to them, of course! Everyone's free to make that choice on their own. But you shouldn't be ashamed to reach out to them if you do want to. And it may not be the path you thought you were headed for, but . . . given what I saw you do with the breach today I have a hard time seeing you as any kind of disappointment."

“Well, ah, you have to admit that last part’s at least rather new,” Erwyn said. “I think even if I did have rather better self-image it would take some adjusting to.”

Palava laughed and patted Erwyn on the shoulder. "True, very true!" he said. "And I sure don't mean to sound like that's the only thing that matters. We were real impressed by it, is all."

Feeling his cheeks flush again, Erwyn looked down into his lap. “Thank you,” he said. “That… that means a lot to me, even if I still have a bit of a hard time believing I was able to do anything all that special.”

"You're welcome!" said Palava cheerfully, smiling and squeezing Erwyn's arm. He glanced around at the empty street that they were still sitting in the middle of. "Those legs feeling any less wobbly?"

Erwyn took a deep breath, then nodded.

Palava paused for a moment to re-wrap the package from the bakery and put it away. Then he stood, his gangly form silhouetted against the starry sky. He held out a hand. Still a little bit shakily, in the way that crying usually left you for a bit afterwards, Erwyn accepted it and pulled himself up tentatively, too.

Palava gave him a few breaths to find his balance again. "Any thoughts on where we're headed?" he asked once Erwyn seemed a bit more steady.

“I… I don’t know, actually,” he said. “Though I don’t particularly want to impose, of course.”

"Well," said Palava, "Depending on just how un-wobbly you're feeling, I do enjoy walking at night. And I especially enjoy it with company."

“That would be nice, I think,” Erwyn said.

"All right!" 

Palava started down the street, brushing some of the dust from his robes as he walked. He moved slowly--deliberately so, Erwyn was sure--and they meandered through the streets towards the outer walls of Wayspell. As they neared the outskirts of the city, they could begin to make out the flickering of fireflies around the tall outer Hedge, and occasionally in the streets around them. Every time one got close, Palava paused to coo at it excitedly. 

Gently, Erwyn held out his own gloved hand, trying to project to the creatures that it was safe for them. It wasn’t too long before one of them took him up on the offer, landing gingerly on his outstretched finger. He watched as the light it carried with it blinked several times before a pause, and then repeating the same cycle.

Palava leaned in close, being careful not to move too quickly and startle the creature.

"Those eggs we found," he said quietly, his face illuminated by the firefly's soft glow. "The Caftner. Did you get them somewhere safe? I keep meaning to ask but of course we've all been... busy."

“Oh!” Erwyn said. “Yes, we… we took them to a friend. The one who taught us about the Caftner in the first place. I was a bit out of it at the time so I didn’t hear everything about her preparations, but it sounds like she’s put together a good, safe place for them once they hatch.”

Palava smiled. "Oh good! I was hoping. In this line of work I don't always get to see how things turn out once we leave. It's nice to hear when they go well."

“There was… a spot of difficulty after you left,” Erwyn said, a hand unconsciously trailing to his neck. “I’m worried that…. I don’t believe we’ve seen the last of Hayel, and that’s a concerning prospect. But the Caftner babies shouldn’t have to worry about any of that, and hopefully neither will the people of Folly’s End. It’s rather satisfying to think -- or at least to hope -- that we did a bit of good, ultimately.”

"I dare say you did," said Palava. "And I'm looking forward to seeing what else you do. All of you, really, but..." he paused for a moment and winked at Erwyn. "I may have a particular soft spot. Hey! A couple blocks over there's a tree with some really great moths; d'you wanna go see?"

Blinking, and still somewhat processing what Palava had said first, Erwyn slowly nodded.

“That… that sounds nice,” he said.

[annakie]

I was traveling Thursday night until this afternoon, so I just finally finished the Dalen’s Closet Oneshot.

Want some thoughts?

Unfortunately, I was traveling for not-happy reasons (saying goodbye to a relative who is very ill) so CR wasn’t really in the forefront of my mind, and I also already had the plans to travel for a couple of weeks.  I was in the air when the oneshot started airing.  As soon as I landed I pulled up Twitch for a few minutes while waiting to deplane and walking through the airport.  I basically saw the minute or so before Scanlan sang the Boring Ballad of Derrig (which was kind of nice because I got a crash course in who Liam was playing) and then the entire Sylas reveal until he threw them off the cliff.  Then I walked out of the airport so I turned off Twitch.

I was staying with my parents in their big, nice RV but had bad internet on my phone, so even after they went to bed I didn’t spoil myself.  And then the next morning I was waiting for them to wake up I was scrolling through twitter, saw a bunch of mild spoilers and went “Fuck it” and read the CritRoleStats for the last half hour or so of the show.  And I cried.  At tweets.

Friday and Saturday I managed to watch up to the last hour in bits and pieces, when it was appropriate (before bed, waiting while said relative was sleeping, etc.)  I stopped myself when I could tell the battle was starting to get close to ending.

Got home this afternoon, and after eating and settling in I was ready for the end.  Went to bed and finished it on my laptop in the dark with a big pile of tissues next to me for the ugly sobbing I knew was coming. I was right.

So there were three acts to it, the pre-rehearsal dinner, the dinner and fight, and the wedding. I thought so much about everything was so great and perfect.  I LOVED seeing Tary again, I missed that asshole so much, and Sam did great falling right back into him (I mean we’ll probably get to see him very soon in the Darrington Brigade oneshot which will also be great, can’t wait for that) but I’m so glad he was so included in the wedding.  

My heart was full seeing Kima and Allura and Gilmore again, even though we didn’t get to spend much time with them.  And getting to check in with Kaylee, too!  I’m a little sad that apparently they forgot about her going back to school, but hey, hopefully she does well with Bitcoin. :)  Keyleth as the best-man-zilla was fantastic, and I’m so glad they found “jobs” for all of Vox Machina, so they were all a part of the party.  

Both Keyleth and Tary’s speeches were SO good.  I cheered a little at the Lionette wines namedrop, neat to see a just a teensy little TM9 in our VM oneshot (is Beau alive yet?  She’s older than 19, right?  I’m kind of wondering if that is foreshadowing or just a cute detail?)  

Everyone grilling Derrig about his “intentions” was great, I wish we had a bit more time with him.  Obviously Derrig isn’t an option here, but I do hope that SOMEDAY, maybe not yet, but someday, Keyleth moves on and finds love again.  She deserves love, if she wants it.  I love that he was a VM fanboy and knew about them and was a little dorky about it.

In the battle, once again we just saw the absolute might of Grog.  Staying fine during the wine, barely being bothered by being poisoned, tanking multiple high-level creatures and not dropping under 100hp.  Yeah he doesn’t have the magic others do, but he’s got the staying power and he’s amazing.  

I was 100% not surprised by the Sylas reveal, it felt very obvious to me that he’d be the one to fuck things up, but it was still awesome.  I felt so bad for Percy and Vex, Percy had nothing but bad choices and I think he did the best he could with almost no resources.  It sucks that Vex died *again* and on her wedding day but even he knew that Pike would be there for her and I think he thought she’d last longer than she did.

The rest of the fight was an unfortunate lesson in splitting the party for half of the players, but everything worked out OK, with Grog basically being the shining star.  It was nice of Matt to let Pike’s spiritual weapon bow work for Vex since that is definitely not Rules As Written, but yay for letting Rule of Cool win out, especially for the bride that you just killed after ruining her rehearsal dinner.  At least everyone got to do something cool.

OK and then the wedding.  The vows were beautiful, and I started crying pretty early on.  It’s gotta be a little weird telling your friend you love him and saying wedding vows when your husband is 4 feet from you but wow, both Vex and Percy’s vows were thoughtful and perfect.

Then of course Sam fucking Reigel comes in and just... destroys everyone emotionally.  Because that’s what he does, and it was perfect.  Like I can’t even... what... how... wow.  I would love to know if Sam talked it over with Matt and/or Liam ahead of time.  There was also a moment you can see Liam shift into Vax and it sent chills up my spine.  I loved that he played Vax just... more alien?  Less connected to reality?  It felt so true to the character.  And I felt like this was the closure that both Vex and Keyleth needed.  I love that Vex WANTED Keyleth to have that moment, as well.  It felt like both of them, and really all of them, could finally accept it and be at peace now.  Or hopefully can be, in Keyleth’s case.  (Also, Marisha’s outfit?  Amazing.  They all looked great but wow.)

Anyway, I went through like ten kleenex from ugly crying.  And I don’t know if they’re planning on any more VM oneshots (I know there’s the “VM vs TM9″ thing happening, whatever that is, but this could be the end of the actual story?)  I hope it’s not the end.  If it is, I can accept it (I mean, we do have the animated series coming up but that’s, you know, a prequel).  It feels wrapped up now.  But I do still hope just every once in awhile they get together and we get to see it.

I hope that Scanlan catching the bouquet at the end hints that we can eventually get the Pikelan wedding, though we don’t need two wedding oneshots in a row.  The ONLY thing really missing for me in this oneshot (there are a few smaller quibbles / “I WANT”s) like the one actual hole was... a serious lack of Pikelan, since that’s my main ship in this fandom.  I have some thoughts about their separate bedrooms I think are more deserving of their own post, but there was so little Pikelan in this oneshot that it was like a 9.5 instead of 10 for how much I loved it.  But hey, we know what WILL happen.  And they’re gnomes.  They got time to make it happen. And we did get a lot of Pikelan in the Search for Bob at least. 

Anyway, that’s enough rambling.  I just had to type out a lot of feelings about SOMETHING, and this was the best place for those feelings.  

Can’t WAIT for this week’s episode and seeing Palock!Fjord in action!

[berlinaura]

Last spring in Finland I attended a course “German for those who are going to have an exchange year”. They told us about the stages which one usually goes through during an exchange. As far as I remember, the stages were roughly somewhat like this: firstly one views everything and everyone better than in their home country and everything is super interesting and fun. This basically means that the everyday life hasn’t kicked in yet. The next one is getting annoyed at everything and everybody. Comparing the country to your home country and maybe even feeling like it would have been a better idea to just stay home. After this comes the stage of adaptation where one gets used to customs and stops comparing everything to one’s home country. Last phase is coming back to home country and seeing it in a new way. And of course telling stories of the exchange year to friends and family until they are bored to death. 

I remember thinking two things when we were taught about this. Firstly, who the hell would go through a phase of hating the country they go to? It seemed so irrational. The second thing was “Now that I’ve heard about this stuff, I can rise above it and use my brain and self-knowledge to avoid it. Yeah... As you might guess, it did not happen. I admit, during last few weeks I have spend a huge amount of my time wallowing in “WHY DO YOU DO THIS LIKE THIS” “Why can’t you do it in the right way” “What the hell is wrong with Germans!”. Mostly my frustrations have been related to my university. The mornings I am usually in a good mood. I drink my coffee, get ready (I have started to care more about what I wear and how I look like now that I am in Berlin hahaha) and go to school. All in all it takes me around 45 minutes to get from my home to university which includes walking, tram and S-Bahn. The way there and back are usually my favorite bits of the day. I enjoy watching people, traveling through Berlin in S-Bahn and listening to music. On the way back from university the people in public transport are usually going to pubs or parties so it’s nice to see happy and lively faces. I try not to overwhelm myself with school even though I feel like I need to be constantly studying to keep up. The thing is, even though the courses seem a bit challenging, partly because I am not used to academic English and partly because I am studying in a new study field, I find all of them interesting and genuinely think they are useful. I think I will shortly find a balance because now I feel super drained after every day and still feel like I have the “responsibility” to do fun things and go to places whenever I am not studying. It’s like a freshman year all over again. 

So, what has happened after the last post? Quite a lot. I was on a Wanderlust trip to Dresden in October. We also visited a famous bridge (Bastei) in Saxony. The views and the scenery were incredible! Dresden was also very cozy and historical city. It was a lot smaller than I expected. We only had a few hours to browse through the city but we could easily reach the most important sights by just walking. On the bus we opened bottles of wines we got from Lidl and played some car games with the people who sat around me. I suggested searching “questions to get to know each other” so on the few hour way back we just simply shared our biggest secrets and fears as if we had been knowing for a long time. The french boy sitting in front of me got  interested as I mentioned we are throwing a sitting here, so he wanted to help. We formed a committee of 5 people for a sittning, planned it in a cafe and contacted international office. Their response was rather dry and due to International office organizing a similar event in December, we decided to postpone the sittning and start planning it again in January.

Wanderlust trip was good because everything was already planned and sorted out for us. We just had to be on time to catch the bus. I already booked another wanderlust trip to Magdeburg in December. They have a Christmas market there. I also want to see the city that was my other option to have an exchange year in. By the way, I am super glad I ended up choosing Berlin over Magdeburg. 

The next day me, the Austrian girl who sat next to me on the bus and her friend went to see a light show in the city centre. There is this light festival held in Berlin where they project things onto famous buildings and monuments. The one projected on Brandenburg gate left me speechless. They projected things like collapsing of the wall, JFK’s speech and techno culture of today’s Berlin.

One Friday evening my friend, my roommate and her friends decided to go to a burlesque show. The bar was super fancy as was the show. I just couldn’t get my eyes of the woman who performed. She danced to a remix of Britney Spears’ Toxic so naturally I had to ask her after the show if she liked Britney Spears. She said they only picked it because they needed something that people would recognize but at the same time something that isn’t the actual song. :( She was amazing tho.

In October I also went to see Prinz Pi live at Columbiahalle. I’ve never been to this venue before and it was so cozy! Man the concert just got better and better and I just had goosebumps for like half of the show. At the encore Prinz Pi said something in the lines of “You know.. The next place I go to.. You don’t want me to tell the audience that the audience of Berlin was dull? Go crazy then!” and I have never seen an audience getting so hyped during a song (”Gib dem Affen Zucker”). I got inspired of this so I already booked a ticket for Sido’s Christmas show in Columbiahalle. Actually I tried to go to his normal tour’s concert which is actually today, but I thought too long and it got sold out. People were asking 200€ per ticket (the original was around 45€) so I gave up. Then I decided to go to his christmas show but AGAIN thought too long because they are held in 20.-22.12. and I needed to sort out my flights to Finland first. But one day I decided to go to eventim’s page to see if someone was selling their ticket (they were, but overprized again) and I saw that there was one original ticket on sale even though it was sold out before. Someone had cancelled their ticket and some forces of the universe told me to refresh that page at a right moment. So now I have my ticket and just can not wait for it!

In the beginning of November I went to Prague to see my friend. The train ride was only 19 euros and I could easily do my homework and watch Kotikatu there. Priorities were sorted out! I navigated to Revnice where we went to a local brewery and shared things about our lives. The beer was the best beer I have ever had in my life which is sad because I literally can’t get it anywhere else than from there. Damn brewery! The next day we played board games, ate well and went swimming. My friend introduced me to a new thing: putting honey in a coffee. At first I doomed the though: ew, who the hell does that? Honey belongs to tea, not coffee. Then I tasted it and... it was delicious. It is yet to discover if it because of the honey or their super fancy coffee maker. Then we went to the brewery again and played a Czech card game called “bang”. I think I got the gist of it and even won the game once. On our last day we were just sightseeing and went to a concert together. The songs were translated to me and for a moment I felt super ambitious to learn Czech. I don’t want to miss out on funny songs just because I don’t know the language!

Last weekend there was a celebration in Berlin due to it being 30 years from the fall of Berlin wall. It was a bit similar to the light festival. We were out with friends two nights in a row and found a super cute place in Prenzlauer berg: Houdini. They have Indian food and cheap cocktails. We continued the evening to this living room looking place that was connected to a Späti. The Späti-drinking culture is something that is missing from Finland. Here Spätis are these small shops that mostly sell drinks (beer, soda, water, cider and so on) and candy.They are open late which is actually where the name Späti (Spätkauf = late shopping) comes from. There are often benches and tables where people can enjoy their drinks which are cheaper than in normal pubs of course. The Späti man asks if the beer is to be enjoyed in the living room and adds a small fee if it is. And there’s a bottle opener on the counter. Everything is sorted out so in my opinion Späti-drinking is a good way to go out and get drunk with small budget. 

Yesterday we had an excursion with my German class. We went to Berlinische Galerie which is a museum of contemporary art. They had an exhibition of Bauhaus, the art/design/architecture Academy in pre-WWII Germany that affected modern design and architecture. We were walking around and filling up a worksheet the teacher gave us. I enjoyed it so much and everything seemed so pleasing to the eye.

 Afterwards we went to a open stage event which was basically a talent show. There were 10 acts of which everyone had 10 minutes to convince the audience who voted for a winner. We also had beer and wine counter there naturally. My favorite was this one dude in tight ballet outfit who preformed a circus act which was funny and impressive at he same time. His background music was swan lake but the dude sang along in a terrible way which made it less serious. Then he juggled with 6 balls and every time he messed up, he cried out in a dramatic way. Then at the end of the show he turned his back to the audience and we could see he was digging something from his crotch and then he turned around and swiped of sweat from his face with a pile of tissues he had as a crotch-filler the whole time. The tipsy audience laughed so much that the winner was pretty much clear at that point. The dude who went after him performed a horrible keyboard improvisation and his face screamed “ I am sorry to be here, I just want to flee!” hahahahah. The act that came second was funny as well, they performed “Let it go” but with a German translation, the google translate type of translation. Conclusion is: the audience wants to laugh at talent shows, not see real talent. 

On top of all the events I have also been attending the hiphop dance class I think I told about. The teacher is super funny (and hot :D) and the dancing is so intensive and so much fun! I look terrible, though but it’s not the main point here. I might continue this hobby when I get back to Finland.

Now I have to start packing my things because I am going to Szczechin (Poland). I heard it is a city where Berliners go to shop because it is cheaper there. I feel like this trip can be either a massive success or a terrible flop. Time shows... 

[xanthicantag]

alright bro im gonna do all the ask so. U Know You're Doin Em Too

Hot read more since there’s so maaaaaany

1. if you were to have Hanahaki disease, what flowers would you cough up?

I feel like this is entirely based on who i’m feeling the one sided love for? (I googled  Hanahaki disease and i’m all about that shit no doubt there)  But like, maybe daffodils? 

2. if someone were to catch Hanahaki disease for you, what flowers would they cough up?

Uh Roses motherfucker, you’re welcome

3. if you were any historic trope, what would you be? (i.e., the knight, the town baker, the witch of the forest, etd.)

Ok so like on the one hand I love lances, so fucking much, so I’m like big into Knights for that and like protecting people (and/or a beautiful prince cause like, you know), but I also really love the idea of just being like, a traveling fighter of some kind, leading a troupe of loveable idiots or being in a troupe as a loveable idiot.  I want to be Iron Bull is what I’m trying to say I guess????? or like, Krem? who knows

4. tell us about your ideal battle outfit.

Ok so I’m torn again.  Cause protection and ease of movement are super important, so like a breastplate and some kind of back protection, maybe a shield?  or maybe a sick gauntlet arm like Ike from Fire Emblem cause he knows what’s up, and then some minor leg armor to keep the front of my thighs and calves safe and like a shield since those fuck am I right??  On the other hand: If you look like a Thot, the enemy is distracted and an easy target.  I’m talking chainmail crop top, plate armor booty shorts, stupid looking heel shoes(?) for maximum thot energy, and of course a whip, either that i use or just have for the thot energy.

5. what would you be a god/goddess of and what would people sacrifice to you?

I think like, a minor deity that helps people make small to mediumish choices (i.e. talk the left or right path, call or don’t call this person), and then like, a cute little charm that people just kinda crush or burn before asking about the choice feels good, feels organic.

6. name five iconic quotes that make you feel things.

Now, I don’t know a lot of quote to be honest, but here’s some paraphrased stuff:

“Now that larping exists dnd is like, not the least cool thing to do”- Travis McElroy

“Yeah I have a pickle allergy, what about it *Pickle eating sounds*” -Me, often

“I fucked your dad” -Me during a quiplash game?  And often yeah I’ll admit this

I don’t remember what’s said, but the scene in the Count of Monte Cristo where he just shows off all his sick skills to be like “Yeah I’ll murder the fuck out of your homeboy if he tries to step up to me”.

“All Magicians are inherently inclined to kill” -That unraveled about Megaman robots who get sentience

7. scythe, battle axe, broad sword, spear or trident?

Ok so like, Scythe for formal occasions/when I want to just look good cause I think their a sexy as hell weapon, at me if you want to be I know I’m right.  Battle Axes are cool and like, really useful during a siege since you can easily bust stuff down with it and it lets you cut spears in half so you look dope as hell, like, Hector of Ostia if you’re out there, yes you’re correct.   Broad Swords are like, just in general really good, you can use it in a duel, a battle, a coronation, magic rituals if you’re really feeling fancy, the list is just endless, a real classic all purpose weapon.  Spears are for fucking losers, fuck you if you use a spear sword fight me like a fucking real fighter or get out of here none of this reach bullshit.  Tridents are like spears but just, inherently sexier?  You know?  Like 1 point is stupid and boring, but 3?  that’s some good shit.  But really fuck all these weapons whips are lances are where it’s at yes feel free to at me again.

8. what combination of natural scents would you use as perfume?

Now this i have like, actually no idea for, but like, just tons of flowers.  I just take like a fistful of flowers and rub them on my face.  

9. ancient scrolls or leather-bound books?

Oh you know I’m about that leather-bound book life!  Fuck A scroll, that is just a piece of paper that is going to tear and be illegible in like 5 years.  A nice bound book though?  *Chefs kiss*

10. describe yourself as if you were a storm.

A summer rain.  It comes in quickly and is gone by the turn of the hour.  A brief respite during the dry season, and gone before it can become a disaster. 

11. what type of flower (other than a rose) would you offer someone you were trying to court?

First of all op, get the fuck off my back Roses or nothing.  Secondly a big sunflower.

12. honey in milk or cinnamon in tea?

Um, neither??????????????????

13. cabin in the woods, apartment in the city or mansion in the suburbs?

Honestly an apartment in the city would be nice but like, living in the woods is the prime chance to be a local mystery.

14. curtains of beads or lace?

Probably lace?  Do beads block light?

15. vocal or instrumental music?

I am a big fan of instrumental

16. describe your ideal fantasy outfit

Step one, big cape, it doesn’t touch the ground while on my shoulders but goes about mid calf.  Step two, leather armor, it’s light and easy to move in, and provides good protection.  Step three, Mask, nothing like flashy, just a plain black mask, preferably a full mask if i’ve got some magic to see with not my eyes, other wise like a typical masquerade mask

17. of all the fantasy races to ever exist, which one would you be?

Fuck.  This is so hard.  I want to be, so many.  No you know what, fuck it.  I wanna be a Dragonborn Tiefling hybrid, I’m talking cool horns, I’m talking sweet tail, you already know I can spit literal fire out of my face.  Fucking try and get at me I dare you.

18. hard candy, fruit preserves or spice cake?

I love hard candy to just suck on, but my teeth do not.

19. show us an a picture of your ideal crown.

if you don’t think this crown fucks, get out of my face

20. tying your hair up using ribbon, yay or nay?

I’ve had my hair long enough for that like once, and I don’t really like tying my hair up tbh

21. an evening in the forest with elves, a night in the caves with vampires or a morning in the garden with fae?

Um.  Bold of you to say I’m not hitting up all these parties???  Like def vampires first since the elven party is advertised to go for like 5 hours, but we all know it goes on for like 4 months and I can’t party that long as a mortal you know.  And like you hit the fae up last since you literally are gonna be stuck there the rest of your life after one (1) round of truth or dare

22. tell us, in detail, about a curse a witch would put on you.

Like, in all honesty the biggest thing a witch could do to me via curse would just be to make my right arm like full unusable.  Not gone or broken.  Just like, it’s slow, I can’t always get it to fully hold onto something so it drops everything, there’s always a small feeling of discomfort, not pain just a minor annoyance, in the knuckles of the hand.

23. talking with sylphs or singing with nymphs?

I get kicked out of the nymph singing area after four seconds of

24. mint, rosemary, basil or sage?

I fucking go wild for the smell of basil don’t even try me

25. favorite childhood story? (doesn’t have to be a fairy tale)

I remembered Inkheart recently and like, I honestly really liked that book

26. tell us about an experience you’ve had that seemed unreal or supernatural. (doesn’t have to be scary)

Sophomore year of college, I realized that all the people around me were people I actually enjoyed spending time with, and it just felt so weird to be there after all the just nonsense that had happened up till then

27. would you rather have poison or healing ointment in your traveling pack?

healing duh?  You think I’d ever remember i have the poison one? nope not me!

28. tell us three sayings that you live by.

Try and be a little nicer, unless they really don’t deserve it.  Walk away sometimes.  Eat food and don’t think about it.

29. vials or mason jars?

Oh get me those vials baby!

30. describe your ideal masquerade ball outfit (mask included).

OH HELL YES.  Get me that suit, it’s a sweet dark red with rose colored vest underneath, the jacket and pants have flower vines on them that 100% connect to a big ass rose on the back of the jacket.  The mask is more or less this guy:

31. splashing around in a river with mermaids or flying through the sky with harpies?

I can literally swim any day so let’s fly

32. what would you end up in the dungeon for?

Ok i didn’t understand this one at first so I’m keeping my initial reply below and the real one is: You know I beat some like high ranking knight or minor noble in a duel to humiliate them and no i didn’t think it through so here i am lol.

3 things: A talking magic weapon (Probably a sword but i’m down for other options).  A certain someone is going in and I’m not letting him go in without someone to keep him safe.  There’s dragon eggs that work like the Eragon dragon eggs and I am already waist deep in dead enemies getting one of those babies.

33. if you were a fairy, what color would your wings be?

Take a wild fucking guess

34. if you could have any magical item, what would it be?

God this is so hard, but I think a magic flower that when you pluck one if its petals you can undo a recent event, up to like ten minutes or so.

35. what song would the bards sing about you when you passed by?

I’ll say the Death of Me by Meg Myers

36. would you rather be a pirate or a king/queen?

God that’s hard,  Like yeah pirates are cool but i’d love to be royalty and just get to do good shit for the people and also not have scurvy.

37. would you spend more time in the field of flowers, the tavern, the docks or the marketplace?

Hmmm, I think the Tavern as like the number 1, and then a tie for docks and field, and the marketplace in last since i hate crowded areas i need to buy things in

38. would you have a painting of yourself?

Only if I ever ride a dragon and then have a painting to immortalize the moment, and only if the dragon helps me paint it

39. what skill are you famous for?

I mean, people know I sword fight, fight fight, and program, so like, those?  and I guess my sick dnd skills

40. if you could live any fairy tale, which one would you?

Fuck if I can think of one!

41. stained glass windows or fairy lights?

Ok Stained glass windows literally slap so like, you already know

[ezra-blue]

Worst Version - Moonrise over Suburbia

I started writing a fic for Saiyuki AU August, and then I started hating it. So I gave up and wrote a 393 instead. Here’s the first twelve pages of a 353 fake dating AU, unedited.

Moonrise Over Suburbia

It was too damn early. That was what Gojyo hated most about the long hauls; crossing time zones there and back fucked him up something fierce. It was ass-o'fucking-clock, a little past four AM, but his brain said it was seven and time for the morning piss and the first cigarette of the day before he was supposed to be getting back into the cab of his eighteen-wheeler and setting off towards the rising sun. Still, being willing to make the drive from Maine to Oregon, Portland to Portland, kept money in his pockets, kept the lights on and kept the landlord off his ass. Steady pay, not bored during the day, the occasional pretty young thing from the bars that dotted the highway to keep him busy at nights? Pretty ideal, really. He and his best friend-slash-hetero-life-mate had managed on his UPS job and his friend's adjunct professor's salary for this long, so he had nothing to complain about that way.

Really, the only thing he had to worry about tonight was where his next meal was coming from, since Hakkai wasn't home and Gojyo was the kind of chef who could burn stove-top ramen. He didn't even want to think about how terrible he'd be at cooking on two hours of sleep.

Even so, as much as it sucked to be up way earlier than he had to be on his day off, there was something kinda surreal and dreamy about being out on his balcony and watching the pre-dawn August sky, those pale blues and pinks and that hint of orange. It was quiet, damn quiet, not a car on the road and only the rare jogger or dog-walker breaking the abandoned streets of the suburbs at the foot of his apartment building; the neighborhood felt unreal without anyone in it, but it wasn't a bad kind of unreal. The moon was setting in the distance, in the space between the houses and mid-rises across the street, her swollen face, waxing, pale against the misty sky and half-faded, as if she'd never been there at all. Gojyo lit his cigarette against the mirage of the moon and sucked down the first rush of nicotine, easing the crave and relaxing into the way-too-damn-early serenity of a world that hadn't woken up yet.

Life was good.

Then, the door to the neighboring balcony slid open, and Gojyo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, readying himself like a referee at the edge of a boxing ring had picked up the hammer next to the bell. Gojyo's neighbor stepped outside with a sigh already on his lips, languid eyes and heavy gaze running over Gojyo in his singlet and boxer shorts as he, already dressed for the day, took his Marlboros from his back pocket.

“You're up early.” He held his smoke out. “Give me a light.”

“What, your lighter out again?” Gojyo held out his Zippo and flicked the wheel. “You think you'd've remembered to keep spares on hand by now, old man.”

He sneered, and if he didn't do that so much, Gojyo thought, he might've been good-looking, but instead Gojyo just found himself having a lot of trouble liking him. “Fuck off, I've been buried under work for the past week while you were fuck-knows-where, running through every damn disposable I had.”

Sanzo was kind of weird like that. He smoked like a car factory, but he insisted on disposable lighters. He claimed to be a Buddhist and meditated in the laundry room (though Gojyo was this side of sure he was just napping), but he was anything but peaceful, swearing at anyone who got on his nerves and cussing out his roommate through the walls. He kept weirder hours than Gojyo, because Gojyo couldn't name a single hour he hadn't heard the guy awake through the walls, though Gojyo, with his broken sleep schedule, had no room to criticize. He was also basically kind of an asshole to everyone for no obvious reason. Gojyo couldn't hate him – even had a grudging respect for someone who lived the way he wanted and unapologetically gave zero fucks – but he made himself hard to like.

“Get a fucking Zippo and a jumbo bottle of lighter fluid, you'll damn near never run out.” Gojyo waited for Sanzo to touch his cigarette to the flame and catch, then tucked it away and returned his attention to his own cigarette as the embers smoldered against his fingers. Sanzo grunted noncommittally.

“Whatever. It'd be less of a pain than talking to you every time I run out, anyway.” Sanzo leaned over the railing of his balcony as he took a drag, looking tired and a little tragic as his focus turned to the sky and the setting moon. “Hell of a time to be up.”

“I just got done with a gig driving all the way East along the Canadian border and back. Five days out of the right time zone kinda fucks a guy up, y'know?”

“You do it to yourself.” Sanzo sneered a bit. “Just turn your alarm off and roll over.”

“Can't do that, princess.” Gojyo wagged his cigarette between his fingers. “Even if the old alarm didn't ring, the internal 'cig time' clock runs smoother than a fake titty in a compression tank top.”

Sanzo gave him a sickly glower. “Every time you make a metaphor like that, I doubt further you've ever seen a breast, let alone touched one.” He snorted and dragged deep on his cigarette, pulling the flame down to the filter fast. Gojyo admired that lung capacity for a second, until Sanzo coughed deep and hard.

“Jeez, you're in a mood this morning. That time of the month already?” Gojyo stubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray Hakkai had put out next to his potted plants (in an effort to keep Gojyo from flicking his butts into the plants, of course), as Sanzo scoffed again, then rubbed at the deep bags under his eyes.

“Fuck you.” He groaned and shook his head, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “Just... I fucking hate summer.”

“The heat get you down?” Gojyo leaned his back against the railing, watching as Sanzo seemed to slump further. He definitely seemed a little more worn-out than usual. “Work a bitch this time of year?” Gojyo wasn't sure what Sanzo did – his roommate, a friendly college student that Gojyo palled around with when he wasn't buried under homework, had mentioned something about stock trading – but he seemed to hate it. Then again, Sanzo seemed to hate damn near everything.

“The fuck do you care for?” The smoke billowing off Sanzo's teeth seemed to come a little fiercer. Gojyo just shrugged.

“I dunno, I can usually hear you bitching through the walls when you're in a shit mood, so maybe I don't need your bleep-box nightmare mouth waking me up when I'm trying to catch up on my Z's. So, spill, maybe wise ol' Gojyo can help.” He turned, wagging an eyebrow at Sanzo with just a little bit of a lascivious grin. Sanzo scoffed again, but then he was quiet, that kind of quiet that said he was thinking. Then, he muttered:

“Is your roommate home? I haven't seen him.”

Gojyo rolled his eyes. “Check your calendar, dipshit. It's the end of August, Professor Hakkai's in the pre-semester crunch doing syllabuses and making up assignments. He left a note to apologize for the empty fridge, so he's probably been living in the teacher's lounge at the university since after I left.”

“Shit.” Sanzo threw his cigarette down and scrubbed his hand down his face. Gojyo raised an eyebrow and tucked his cigarette between his lips as he crossed his arms.

“Okay, what the fuck is up?”

Sanzo grimaced, then slid his fingers open to make a gap over his face and eye contact with Gojyo. “I need a date.”

Gojyo damn near swallowed his cigarette. “What?”

“I. Need. A. Date. You heard me.” Sanzo made a face as he pivoted to face Gojyo. “It's... look, do you have any family?”

Gojyo pulled a face at this. “None worth talking about.”

“Most of the time, me neither. My old man travels the damn world most of the year, but he comes back home for a little bit in the summer, and he always wants to see me when he's home.” Sanzo huffed in disgust. “Even when he's globetrotting, he calls me from wherever the fuck he is, forgetting that time zones are a fucking thing--” Gojyo snorted at the irony, but Sanzo missed it-- “And pisses me off whining about wondering how I'm doing. I decided to get him off my ass by telling him I'd gotten a boyfriend.” Sanzo didn't even give Gojyo a chance to question him, ranting right on, “That way, I could mute my phone and if he asked why I didn't pick up, I could tell him I'd been busy with my boyfriend and he'd be happy for me and maybe fucking call less.”

Gojyo managed to push his jaw shut. “Wait, you're gay?”

“No.” Sanzo glared at Gojyo. “And even if I were, why do you care?”

“Curious, dude. I mean, it's not my thing, but I say live and let live. So, you're not gay but you told your old man--

“If I had to date someone,” Sanzo interrupted, emphasizing the 'if' like it had a two ton weight swinging behind it, “I'd prefer a man. Women annoy me more.”

“Got it.” Gojyo shrugged again. “So, I'm guessing that lie's made its way back around the world to bite you in the ass.”

Sanzo grunted and pinched his temples again. “My dad has invited me to a dinner party. He wants me to introduce him to my boyfriend. The one who doesn't exist.”

Gojyo whistled. “Your mouth wrote you a check your ass can't cash, huh?” He smirked at Sanzo. “Took a withdrawal from the bank of lies and found that interest a little steep?”

“Fuck you, I didn't think you'd be much help anyway.” Sanzo sneered and turned for the door, but Gojyo whistled again to get his attention.

“Hold up, prissy-britches, wait a second. What is it you need?” He paused, putting the pieces together as his brain woke up enough to puzzle out what Sanzo had said. “Wait, were you gonna ask the Prof to be your boyfriend or something?”

Sanzo grumbled something indistinct, but in the pink dawn light, Gojyo realized his ears had gone bright red. “Oh-ho. Oh, Sanzo. That wouldn't'a worked anyway. Prof Hakkai's got this long distance girl – her name's Yaone, she's this medical researcher working in N'Orleans right now, something about frogs – and he Skypes with her every night for like an hour. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone else, since he's got big plans for her when she's done with her assignment.” Sanzo swore softly. “What about Goku?”

“What about Goku? My dad knows him, he'd never believe he and I had gotten together. Plus, I would've just said, 'Goku and I are an item' instead of being as vague as I have.”

“Any reason you couldn't'a just faked it with the kid?” Gojyo wagged his cigarette a little. “Hell, I hear about folks our age just getting married to our buddies for the tax benefits and getting a no-fault divorce when the real deal comes along.” Sanzo huffed with annoyance, shoulders sinking, but he waved his cigarette hand around as if to wipe away the very notion.

“It's complicated. I'm not getting into that with him. Either way, my dad wouldn't buy it.”

“Fine.” Gojyo knew how loaded a word like 'complicated' was when it came to love stuff, family stuff, stuff he usually tried not to fuck with. “And I'm guessing, given your glowing personality and natural charm, you've got plenty of friends who'd be willing to play the role for a night.”

“Fuck you.”

Sanzo blinked a few times as if someone had snapped a flash photo and he had to clear away the fuzz. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you need a fake boyfriend, I got spare time and a dick, I could play the part."

"Not a chance." Sanzo sneered, lip curling. "I'm not your type."

"You sure about that?" Gojyo grinned coyly and swaggered up to the railing, keeping the bars between him and Sanzo but leaning over them to smirk at him. "That might even work better for ya. Your old man'll be able to tell we're not a good couple, so if you do find someone you actually wanna hook up with, he'll totally understand when you break up with me."

The fact that Sanzo just raised an eyebrow rather than throwing back a nasty retort told Gojyo that he might have just said the magic words. "And what do you get out of it?"

"Dinner, duh." Gojyo thumbed over his shoulder. "Told ya, the Prof's out, and I probably won't see him 'til the crunch is over and the semester starts. You said this was a dinner, that means free food and you can filch me some leftovers, and I don't have to live on Mickey D's for however the fuck long Hakkai's out of the house." Gojyo paused. "Alright, and if I gotta sweeten my own deal, you gotta bring me some breakfast or something."

Sanzo scowled his irritation, but he put his face close to Gojyo's. "Can you pretend to enjoy kissing me?"

"Only if you can." As if to test it, Gojyo tilted his head to kiss Sanzo on the mouth, but Sanzo evaded.

"No dress rehearsals. Fuck. Fine." Sanzo pivoted around, shoving his sliding door open. "Be ready to go at five, we gotta drive there. Wear a tie, if you own one." He slammed the door shut behind him (as hard as one could slam a glass sliding door), and Gojyo blew a smoke ring at his back.

“Well, whatever.” He had dinner set for the night, anyway, and it was something different to do on his day off.

Life was strange, but alright. Gojyo watched the moon sink a little lower as he finished his smoke, and resolved to try to get a little more sleep. He wanted to be awake enough to watch Sanzo squirm tonight.

--------------------------

Sanzo at first seemed surprised when Gojyo pushed open the front door of their apartment building, eyes a little wide as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the curb and Sanzo's stark white Equus (nice car, Gojyo thought, for someone who never leaves the house). "Hey," he hailed Sanzo with a wave and a wink, and Sanzo just scoffed and flapped a hand back, but Gojyo didn't miss the way Sanzo's gaze swiped his body. Gojyo had dug out the black silk shirt and a white straight tie, the stuff he saved for nights at swanky clubs near the college, and now Sanzo was staring at him with what sure smelled like jealousy. Gojyo made sure to pass him just close enough that he could smell his cologne and the cigarettes on his collar; after all, even if he was just playing at being Sanzo's boyfriend, Sanzo's dad might as well think he was a catch, or at least sexy, and it'd be nice if Sanzo would acknowledge that he was making an effort. Sanzo sniffed the air a little, though Gojyo couldn't be sure if it was attraction or derision. Gojyo walked a short circle around the car so Sanzo could see just how damn good his ass looked in dark wash jeans, but also so he could check out the ride – it was an older car, but it looked damn sharp, so either Sanzo took good care of it or never drove it. "She's nice."

"She?"

"Cars are ladies, doncha know?" Gojyo winked, then leaned against the hood. "So, you ready to roll?"

Sanzo pulled a face, brow quirking, mouth twitching back with annoyance. "Yeah, fine." He took a cigarette out of his sport coat's inner pocket and lit up as he circled to the driver's side. His focus glanced off of Gojyo again as Gojyo cracked open the passenger side door. "You look presentable."

That was the closest thing Gojyo'd ever heard to a compliment coming out of Sanzo. He just chuckled and slicked his fingers back through his hair. "Well, when I'm not bound for sixteen hours in my cab by my lonesome, I make a little more effort. Thanks."

"Hm." Sanzo's focus flitted away, eyes dodging down, and Gojyo realized Sanzo actually, seriously thought he looked good. He smirked to himself, cocksure and proud, as he settled into the cushy seat of Sanzo's little luxury sedan and threw his safety belt on.

Sanzo drove like he was daring the cops to pull him over, using his turn signals like insults rather than indicators. Gojyo found himself gripping the “oh-shit” handle for most of the ride and watching the streets fly past the window as they veered from the outskirts of Portland, circumvented the city, and sped towards Five Corners. Gojyo was familiar with the area, he'd driven local deliveries through here. He recognized the exits and turns towards a particularly nice slice of the suburbs north and east of West Hill, the kind of place where he ended up dropping off a lot of luxury brand packages in December.

Not surprising. If Sanzo's dad had the assets to travel the world, it made sense he had it in him to own a house in a nice area. Sanzo seemed like he came from a good place, though Gojyo got the sense that something had happened that had made him turn out rotten. Kids who came from good homes seemed to have the biggest problems. Gojyo had found that folks with money too often substituted cash for decent morals and common sense. Not that broke kids didn't have their problems too, but everyone knew about those already, so they were hardly worth whining about.

The sun was just starting to sink behind the mountain when they pulled up to a mid-sized Victorian-style house in the middle of a winding, tree-lined road, but instead of the manicured lawn and designer garden he expected, the grass was long and wild, the roses were growing up the brick and stone columns like trellises, and most of the windows were draped with ivy, bedecked with living greenery like Christmas tinsel. The lights were on, glowing gold onto the other cars parked out front, and Sanzo groaned as he pushed the clasp on his seat belt loose. “Fuck, he invited the whole crew.”

“The whole crew?” Gojyo repeated, fumbling off the last of his terror at the last abrupt, screeching turn onto the driveway, fingers shaking just a little, but he got out and shook himself off. The yard was quiet, with only a faint hum of noise and music from the house proper. Sanzo shook his head with disgust.

“He invited all of his friends from work, from before he retired.” He slapped the cars as he strolled past them. “Glasses guy, Fey guy, the Colonel, Big guy, Shouty guy, Quiet guy, Baldy One and Baldy Two...”

Gojyo frowned and followed a step behind. “They, uh, got names?”

“Sure, but I don't bother remembering them. I see them once a year, less if I had any say in it.” Sanzo scoffed, shaking his head as he went, but Gojyo caught him shoot a truly venomous look at a black sports car parked in front of the driveway. “And of course, that prick is here. I'd hoped the old man would've pushed him off a boat by now.”

Gojyo raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. He had a feeling he'd find out who 'that prick' was soon enough.

Sanzo loped to the front door, shaking his shoulders out like he was limbering up for a boxing match, then rang the bell and rapped his fist on the door twice. Gojyo felt Sanzo's tension around him like static electricity as the chime reverberated into silence, until the door opened to a mild-looking man in a colorful knee-length jacket, his long hair in a braid cast over his shoulder and a pipe between his fingers. He threw his arms open, beaming. “Kouryuu, there you are!”

Sanzo reluctantly trudged forward and let the man fold his arms around him. Gojyo even caught a glimpse of a begrudging smile. “Father. I've asked you to call me Genjo instead of that babyish nickname.”

“It's not babyish, it's what I've always called you!” Sanzo's father patted his back a few times before releasing him, only to hold him at arm's length. “And you'll always be my baby, you know.” He turned to Gojyo, and spoke to him with the familiarity as if he'd known him for years. “Has he told you about how I adopted him? All my old friends were stunned, they didn't think a man like me could be a parent, but this one falls into my lap and--”

“Father, you should really introduce yourself before you start telling embarrassing old stories about me.” Sanzo was visibly tense now, and Gojyo couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

“Hey, he told me it'd been a while since you've seen each other, I can't blame ya for being eager.” Gojyo loosened to a casual slouch and swaggered a half step in. “Name's Gojyo. I''m the guy who's been taking care of your boy these last – how many months, babe?”

The look of pure relief on Sanzo's face was immensely satisfying. “Ten.”

“Ten months, but who's counting, right?” Gojyo extended a hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, he calls me 'sir,'” Sanzo's father laughed, but he clasped both hands around Gojyo's and shook it vigorously. “I'm Koumyou Sanzo, his father. So tell me, is his butt as cute as it was when he was little?”

Gojyo nearly choked on his own tongue trying not to laugh right there, as Sanzo turned a shade of crimson Gojyo could only compare to steakhouse ketchup. “Father!”

“He hasn't showed me baby pictures,” Gojyo demurred, winking at Sanzo again. “But let's see what the night brings, you know?”

Koumyou chortled, obviously delighted, but waved the pair of them past. “Oh, Genjo, he's funny. I like him!”

“He's unique.” Sanzo eyed Gojyo with just a hint of malice, and Gojyo put on a sheepish grin. “He's never boring, anyway.”

“I'm just glad I can make you laugh, babe.” Gojyo motioned for Sanzo to go first, as Sanzo shot him one quick glare and moved past him.

So far, so good.

Koumyou led them into a room near the entrance, but before Gojyo could even get a look around, a cheer rose through the room.

“There he is!”

“The prodigal son!”

“The famous son,” someone else laughed back, and Gojyo finally got a look around. Koumyou kept it colorful, the walls beige but decorated with ornate, colorful paintings – Klimt, van Gogh, Degas, and framed posters from art galleries advertising exhibitions from around the world – and his table was just as colorful. The centerpiece of the room, the dinner spread over the long low table, was of covered dishes in purples and crimsons and greens over a tablecloth with a technicolor geometric pattern. All the guests were seated on silk patterned cushions on their knees similar in pattern to Koumyou's jacket, and all of them were waving to Genjo as he slouched in the aperture between the foyer and dining room.

“It's...” Gojyo could feel Sanzo's tension in the hum of his hesitation and patted his back, and Sanzo seemed to remember that he should finish his sentence. “Nice to see you all again.”

“Liar,” one man near the head of the table, a man closer to Sanzo's age than to Koumyou's with shaggy dark hair, chuckled, and Sanzo's gaze snapped to him. “Imagine,” he went on, dark eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the chandelier, “Koumyou putting the poor antisocial boy through his paces again.”

Sanzo bristled, and jerked his shoulder to shake Gojyo's hand off. “It's been too long, Jianyi.”

“He lies again.” The dark-haired man, Jianyi apparently, laughed, and elbowed at the man next to him, who actually gave him a rather irritated look back.

“Will you be nice to your boyfriend's son?” He was an odd-looking fellow, with a classic Mandarin hairstyle, all the hair shaved but for a braid, and a mustache, and when he stood, Gojyo realized he was a little person. He circled the table and came to stand in front of Sanzo, then bowed. “You're looking well, Genjo.”

“Genkai.” Sanzo actually bowed back. “It's good to see you again.”

“Now he means it,” a man with hair dyed purple giggled (Fey guy, though his voice was rougher than his rather feminine features suggested), and Baldy One and Baldy Two on either side of him both smiled, One reluctantly and Two wryly, before Fey guy cupped a hand. “Genjo, introduce the beefcake!”

All eyes were on him now. Gojyo keenly felt Jianyi's stare, as Sanzo motioned to him. “Everyone, Gojyo. We've been seeing each other ten months.”

“Nice find!” A guy wearing a canvas military cap, who was a little younger and a little thicker than the others (Gojyo was guessing that was the Big guy), hooted, and the Colonel (the white beard and mustache were a dead giveaway) chuckled into his hand.

“Gojyo, Genjo, please, sit, make yourself comfortable! Where did that Father of yours get to?”

“He can't have gone far.” Genkai eased back and motioned to the two empty cushions near the center of the table. “We were all just catching up. All boring old man stuff, of course. What have you been up to?”

With that, Genkai ushered Sanzo to sit, and Gojyo sat beside him on his knees, and Sanzo was dragged into the typical inane conversation of catching up with someone one hadn't seen in a while. Gojyo found out a little about Sanzo, at least: he was a straight-up New York City stock trader, working (remotely) on Eastern Standard Time from the nine A.M. opening bell (six A.M., Gojyo did the math in his head with a quick wince) until closing. Explained why he was always awake when Gojyo's schedule was fucked, anyway. It also explained why he seemed to be such a recluse, or at least how he could stay in the apartment all day and still make a decent living. Gojyo couldn't help but figure the why from Sanzo's terse reactions every time he got a question from another direction, eyes briefly widening a little bit every time someone asked about the next big trend, stock advice, buy or sell on this or that, and turning faintly scarlet whenever Fey guy or Big guy made some wink and nod joke about him being “kept busy” and winking at Gojyo.

Koumyou rejoined the party just as Baldy Two was pushing Sanzo about Apple stock, bearing a covered dish. “My, my, you've all started the festivities without me!”

“We couldn't help ourselves,” Jianyi chuckled, edging over to widen the gap beside him. Gojyo immediately felt his attention snap to the guy, because for some reason, Gojyo had gotten a bad vibe off of him, and not just from Sanzo's reaction to his prodding, or that of the other ten men in the room every time he'd made some mutter Gojyo couldn't hear or make out. It was that 'not-safe' feeling he got when he pulled into truck stops that told him his shit would get stolen out of the cab if he so much as stopped for a piss break there, or when he passed over lot lizards that he just knew would give him syphilis if he so much as looked at her twice without a condom on. He had sort of a sense for trouble like that, it came with living like he did. Jianyi seemed either blissfully unaware of everyone else's disdain or wholly unperturbed by it, but that was just as off-putting as the initial sense Gojyo got, and just as eerie as the smile Jianyi put on when Koumyou sat down beside him and put the dish in the rest of the spread. "Can we serve now?"

"Oh, yes, yes, please!" Koumyou motioned up with both hands, indicating for everyone to lift the covers, before turning his smile towards Gojyo. "And if you don't know what something is, please ask!"

Gojyo suddenly felt eyes on him, and plastered on a self-conscious smile. "Food's food, right? I'm sure I can figure it out."

There was a round of soft chuckling and stifled laughter around the table, as Sanzo muttered, "You happen to be at a table with eleven world-travelers, each of whom brought a dish from a part of the world they have been to over the last year. I guarantee you I'll only be guessing at half of what's on this table, but I have no food allergies or sensitivities and I'm not picky. Just ask if you're not sure."

"I'm not picky either," Gojyo countered quickly, choosing not to volunteer that he'd eaten maggots before just so nobody could press him about the context. "Uh, but excluding us, I counted twelve, so--"

"I can't cook," Koumyou volunteered sheepishly. "However, I got a friend in town to dress a lamb leg in the Turkish style, and while I wouldn't know what to do with it myself, I can set an oven and carve meat off the bone."

"With some help." Nii winked at him, and Gojyo heard Fey guy make a disgusted noise.

"Can we just eat already?" He lowered his voice to a mutter and added, "Before I lose my appetite."

The plates were lifted, to an outcry of excitement from all sides but Sanzo and Jianyi, and though Gojyo didn't say a word, he didn't recognize half of what was on the table. Instead, Gojyo took the first thing he could identify (a hearty slice of that lamb leg Koumyou had brought in) and sniffed every plate as it came past him. He began to pick up on what was what – those funny green egg rolls were grape leaves stuffed with mushrooms and onions, the white pasta with big meatballs was a Vietnamese pork meatball over rice noodles, that wasn't ham wrapped around melon but prosciutto and it was popular in Spain, those crispy things were deep-fried lotus root – and luckily, it all smelled amazing.

“Man, this is better than going to a buffet,” he remarked as he passed a platter of black eggs that smelled of oranges and spice to Baldy Two on his left, to a few chuckles from nearby.

“It's fun,” Genkai said from his place, smiling peaceably. “We all get together to share where we've been, and bring a little of it with us.”

“A fine meal is a fleeting pleasure, but one best enjoyed in good company.” Koumyou lifted a teacup, and many of the others followed suit with water or wine glasses. "Cheers. I'm glad to see you all again."

There were answers of "Cheers," and murmurs of agreement, before Koumyou turned to Genkai. "You said you brought dolmas, old friend? How did Greece treat you?"

"Better than its citizens, sadly." Genkai smiled wryly. "Even despite its current troubles, Athens is still beautiful. I admit I spent longer in Germany this year, but, well... I suppose I was thinking of Goudai."

Jianyi pulled a face behind his wine glass, as Koumyou sighed. "It's still fresh for me, too. He would have loved them, you did a fantastic job."

"Goudai," Sanzo said, in a voice meant for Gojyo, "was an old friend of my father's who passed a few years ago."

"I think we all miss my old mentor." All eyes shot to Jianyi with irritation when he spoke over his folded hands and tented fingers. "Even so, I imagine he'd be loathe to think of us all moping about him now, wouldn't you agree, Genjo?" His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he failed to disguise a smirk. Sanzo snorted and turned his attention to his plate, but Gojyo felt compelled to say something:

"He'd probably be glad you all thought of him, anyway. It's nice to remember folks who're gone, not for them, but for you, y'know? Those good memories are still good." He picked up one of the fried lotus root chips with his fingers, imitating Baldy One across the table, as Genkai cracked a little smile.

"You speak like someone who's lost someone dear to you, but with the strength to remember them fondly. Admirable, in a boy your age."

“Well, we can't all be worldly little monks, can we?” Jianyi tossed his head back and laughed. Genkai flushed, but Gojyo brushed it off as if he hadn't spoken.

“Oh, you're a monk, are you? Like, what kind?”

“Holy Land Buddhist,” Koumyou and Sanzo both answered.

“It's how we met.” Koumyou nudged Genkai with his hand. “All of us were students of Buddhism under a wise teacher, and we became a social group outside of meditation sessions and sutra readings.”

“With one notable exception.” Fey guy was glaring daggers at Jianyi again, who was much more interested in the bottom of his wine glass.

“Guilty as charged.” Jianyi put his glass down and put it towards the center of the table, and Koumyou took up the canter and refilled it. “I was actually an apprentice under dear deceased Goudai, and got pulled in by him.”

“I think he thought we would be good influences.” Baldy One smirked a bit, then tucked a whole shumai into his mouth. “Mmh, Excellent, Jyoan.”

“Thank you.” Fey guy smirked like a satisfied cat, then glanced sideways to Gojyo. “So, aside from our odd man out, we all came up together.”

"We're all relatively faithful, though I admit Koumyou's, er, non-traditional." The Colonel chuckled, as Koumyou flapped a hand.

"I live my own way, and I don't think I've hurt anyone so far." He winked at Sanzo. "I'm not so bad, am I?"

"Yeah, yeah. Do as you please, as long as you don't hurt anyone," Sanzo muttered, stabbing at the dolmas piled on his plate.

"That's the Hippocratic oath, Genjo." Jianyi wagged a finger. "And really, Seiran knows more about that." Baldy Two snorted, and Gojyo could have sworn he muttered something like:

"Keep my name off your lips."

"You're a doctor?" Gojyo asked, before Jianyi could engage a second further. Baldy Two raised a brow, then nodded.

"Myself and Soujin both." He motioned to the Colonel. "I've been researching methods for recovering from brain damage post-trauma and seizures."

"Pediatrics, with Médecins Sans Frontières. It seemed a natural progression after being in the Marines, to me, anyway!" The Colonel chuckled again, stroking his beard (or maybe wiping a little of that white yogurt sauce out of it, there was a reason Gojyo didn't like beards much). "Perhaps our new guest deserves a bit more explanation."

“Oh, right. Genjo likely didn't tell him about all of his uncles.” Fey guy sneered a bit, but smirked at Gojyo. “I'm an anthropologist and writer. I've been examining some non-conforming villages in China. Do you know there are subcultures wherein marriage isn't practiced? At all?”

“We can talk studies later.” Glasses guy adjusted his spectacles, but Gojyo could feel him examining him under the wire rims. “I'm a reporter. My forte is in covering disasters, though I admit I don't care for it nearly as much as covering the recovery.”

With that, everyone around the table gave his profession. Big Guy was a food writer who traveled the world writing about unique cuisines for a major food magazine Gojyo had never heard of, Baldy One taught English in underprivileged remote Japanese villages, Shouty guy paused briefly in devouring from some Thai-fried rice to explain that he was a soccer coach. Every one of these men touched ground in multiple countries a year, and the hosts were no exception, just like Sanzo had said.

“I'm a curator for the International Foundation for Art research.” Koumyou beamed and gestured to some of the posters. “They trust my instincts enough to let me choose where to search, and I find pieces and build exhibitions for museums around the world.”

“His taste is world-renowned.” Jianyi gave Koumyou a rather heated look and a smirk that wasn't entirely sarcastic, which only put the needles a little deeper under Gojyo's skin. “Even I can admit some of his collections are unique in ways hard to put into words.”

“Which says something, though I'm not certain what.” Koumyou giggled softly, and Gojyo saw Sanzo wince as he stroked his fingers down his arm.

[lore-a-lie]

Chapter 2, Act 3: A Sonata by Moonlight

Daily Life

Kaede made her way through the gates of greed and lust, only to find Ryoma waiting at the top of the spiral staircase on the other side, candy cig in hand looking out at the two buildings before them as he looked over his shoulder to give her a nod.

“So, things getting any easier on you yet there boss?”

“With what, Angie? Not a chance, there’d be no point in trying to reason with her right now. And please don’t call me that, it’s weird.” Kaede replied, scratching her cheek a bit in embarrassment.

“Whatever you say. Time to get move on I take it?”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure what to be expecting though.”

“My best guess? Literal blackjack, minus the hookers." Ryoma began with a roll of his eyes and a shrug. "But barring that I know there are slots, a fishing game, some car racing, and color crusher type game. Pretty standard arcade stuff more than a genuine casino, they even use tokens instead of chips. They barely even look different from the monocoins.”

“Are casinos really so different? I only kinda know about them from western movies.”

“Yeah, I’d been to a few when I’d have competitions that’d take me overseas, so while this place definitely has the look of a casino down, and the slot machines do help, the lack of actual dealers makes it feel a lot different than how’d they work in America. Kinda weird how legal it was over there.”

“Sooo, you been to America often?” (Now’s my chance to find out more about his previous lady friend~)

“You know you’ve got a ways to go before you’ll be any good at being subtle. It’s kinda refreshing, with how guys like Kokichi can be, but your thoughts are an open book. Even your hair gives you away.” (Drat. But what does he mean my hair?... It’s the cowlick isn’t it? Stupid hair. I can never get it to behave right.)

His words rang true as Ryoma began to chuckle at the sight of Kaede’s not-so-inner dilemma. The wry smile didn’t leave his face as he slowed his pace at the fork in the road between the Kumasutra and their destination, causing her to match him until both came to a stop as he gave her a knowing look.

“Though before we head in, if a certain pink pianist has anything to do with a black and white bat-winged toy going missing in front of the fountain room, she might want to take a quick look near the entrance of the Love Hotel. Might find a similar prize wandering around in the bushes if she catches my drift.”

“W-what, why would I be picking up weird little Monokuma dolls? It’s not like there aren’t enough toys in the Monomachine, r-right?” (Damn, he’s onto me! But that’s a place I never thought to check before…)

“Right, of course there are. Must have been my imagination it just happened to disappear after you showed up... Or maybe someone else has been collecting them?” Ryoma’s words didn’t match the smug look on his face though, and it didn’t take long for Kaede’s attempt at indifference fell apart.

He paused for her to catch up as he watched her scamper down the right-hand path in search of another doll to join the two on her back and his chuckle broke into a full deep laugh. It didn’t take long for her to find it either, now that she had a proper hint.

AND HE’S SO CUUUTE! Lookit him with his little bellhop hat as he struts around, like he’s got himself a widdle job! … Ahem. I’ll… just put him in my bag with the others for now. And go thank Ryoma for this. Who is my new favorite person. Sorry, Kaito.

Kaede couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off her face as she made her way back, rambling her thank yous and giving half-hearted requests for him to keep from sharing her odd little hobby with the others. But all he could do was chuckle and nod as they made their way to where Kaito and the others were.

Kiyo was already in the exchange area, looking at the different bottles in the bar and upon noticing the two of them indicated everyone else were downstairs in the game room. Ryoma went on ahead to make sure Kaito wasn’t getting into too much trouble but Kaede took the time to look at the prizes she could try to save up for first.

Hmm, well the Crystal Bangle is nice but a lot of these look expensive, I wonder how hard it is to earn these medals. The Ladybug brooch is also pretty cute, Gonta might even like one as a gift sometime. A Travel Journal might be fun to look through and I could also probably find someone who’d like it when I’m done with it, like Kiyo sounds like he’s been to a bunch of places...

Tennis Balls are easy to have fun with when you’re bored but I could probably just borrow some from Ryoma’s lab rather than buy my own set. Don’t need any more Teddy Bears, even though it is pretty cute.  

The Factory game could also be a fun little time killer, and the console’s design is nice. I think it’d be good to have something to take care of daily so the Banyan Tree could be a good investment, but what would I call them? Plants gotta have names-

Holy shit look at those Headphones! Oooh, those would be great to use with my lab’s CDs, they even look like they dampen sound if I just need some quiet time. But it’s a bit pricey... The Space Egg is pretty but I’d rather use that money for the headphones. Oh wow, look at that key!

Ugh, that’s even more expensive though! What does it mean “something good might happen if you keep it”? Gah, I wanna know~

“See something in particular that catches your interest?” Kaede jumped a bit as Kiyo’s voice interrupted her thoughts. (Ryoma really wasn’t kidding when he said I was like an open book huh? Maybe I should work on that.  At least a certain someone’s bothering to “read” my feelings this time! Still mad at you.)

“Y-yeah, kinda. But the good stuff looks like it will take a lot of playing to save up for. Like those headphones. Or that mysterious “Key of Love”. Is that the only way to investigate the hotel area?”

“I highly suspect so but it doesn’t sound like you can really use if for “investigating”. Even with the key, you can’t unlock the doors before their “opening hours” and Monokuma indicated their use is rather limited in practice.” Kiyo said very matter of factly, despite this being the first Kaede ever heard of this.

“Huh? When did he ever talk about them before? You see him here earlier or something?”

“No, not at all, I already bought one the day before you see. Apparently, when you have one in your possession he sees fit to wake you at some unholy hour of the night to see if you might be interested in participating in an unusual scenario. How it was explained doesn’t particularly appeal to me though, so if you’d like it I’d be more than happy to give it to you.” (What?! But it’s so expensive! Why give it away?)

“A-are you really sure? I mean you must have spent a lot of time to buy it didn’t you? How bad is the “scenario” he offered you exactly?”

Despite her concerns, Kiyo had no issue with taking the decorated key out of his pocket, so Kaede gladly accepted the trinket dropped into her waiting hands. Seeing how confused she still was he explained.

“It’s hardly like any of our currency matters in this place, and it isn’t “bad” as much as it simply doesn’t interest me, intriguing as his offer was. You have no control who here may join you on your “visit” to the hotel, and whoever does will see the keyholder as some sort of “ideal” partner for their preferred sexual or romantic fantasy while the keyholder must act in accordance to this forced roleplay lest the other party feel terribly dejected. I’m not particularly fussy in regards to gender in cases like this so I don’t find the random element too distasteful, but it’s the lack of control the keyholder has that bothers me.”

“I see. And any purely romantic scenes might be kinda awkward the day after right? You said you took this sort of stuff rather seriously before, when you and Ryoma were talking about your past girlfriends.”

While her question was innocent enough Kiyo looked rather panicked by the mention of his previous partner. It took a moment to settle his wide-eyed staring, and lose the bit of hostility in the air, before he calmed down enough to respond. (Jeez, it’s like that time when I just asked him about if people had thought he had a siscon thing before. It’s pretty hard to not get nervous when he has freakouts like this.)

“Right. I… It has been awhile since Her passing but I’m not at all comfortable with that sort of intimacy. Particularly one that is forced for the sake of someone that should the scene play out right won’t keep many memories regarding the night previous. I’m unsure how that is meant to work, drugging perhaps? I wouldn’t put it past Monokuma or his kin.” (Yikes, why is that not the bigger deal breaker for you?!)

“M-maybe it’s more like a weird shared dream? That can happen right?” (And be maybe be less rape-y? Please?!)

“Perhaps, but then how would the partner be selected I wonder. Or the “dream” controlled. A most peculiar means to bear witness to a friend’s hidden desires. I can’t help but wonder what my own scene could contain. Nothing in regards to Her I’m sure, as that ideal would be too intricate to match to my satisfaction; I know Her too well to be fooled by a fake.” (It must still be hard to for him to accept she’s gone if he’s still using present tense for her like this. Though I wonder what mine would be like too.)

“So was she like a childhood friend of yours?”

“I… suppose you could say something like that. I do hope you enjoy whatever beauty your nighttime visit may reveal to you. You would let know if I was your visitor, wouldn’t you? Simply for curiosity’s sake of course.” It was clear he wanted to drop the subject as he teased her, which still got Kaede flustered at the implications.

Luckily for her, she wouldn’t need to respond to this as Kokichi came up the stairs with a childish pout.

“What are you two still doing up here? Come on you’re missing the good stuff! No more of your dilly-dallying, the prizes don’t even matter right now! This is supposed to be a good time together. Isn’t this what you wanted Kaede? Or does that only count for if it’s something Tenko invited you to?” Kokichi pointed at her accusingly as he complained. (Okay, yup he knew. At least he’s not actually mad about it.)

It was fairly obvious any annoyance he was feeling was fake, he even stereotypically crossed his arms as he humphed for emphasis, but his adamance that she come down certainly wasn’t. Seemed rather odd to her considering she should be the more optional person for his gambling crew than Kiyo was, seeing how Kokichi claimed this was meant to be a guy focused event and Kiyo was the one who invited her.

Rather than respond she rolled her eyes with a giggle as he took her by the hand tugging her down the stairs and half-heartedly encouraged Kiyo to follow them so they could see “just how much Kaito sucks at gambling” as he put it. The transition from the warm golds of the Casino’s main hall to the neon-lit blues of the game room down the stairs was odd as ever but she was beginning to see what he meant.

Maki was clearly trying, and failing by the looks of things, to encourage Kaito to stop playing the slots to at least try something less random as he must have been on some sort of losing streak. Regardless of his own luck she still managed to have a fairly large pile of tokens beside her, which was probably part of how Kaito could continue playing at all, while Ryoma was messing around with some of the other games. It looked more like he was investigating than playing though, and Kokichi caught that too.

Upon reaching the bottom he suggested that Kaito and Maki switch machines so the six of them could sort out what games would be played by who had the most “luck” at slots first. Everyone would get to pick a game in the order from who won the most to the least, and he even had a bunch of card games on him to give them a few more options “in case the arcade games here suck ass”. (Which probably means his choice really will be Blackjack just to be cute. Not that I know how to actually play Blackjack.)

Kaede wasn’t entirely sure how this “competition” was really working, as all she knew to do with these was pull the lever and leave everything to chance. If anyone asked her what any of the combinations on these machines meant she wouldn’t be able to tell them, but since she was getting more medals than she put in (and she put in as many as she could each time) she figured she wasn’t doing too badly.

That was more than Kaito could say as he quickly burned through the last allowance Maki gave him putting him dead last. Ryoma proved to be nearly the opposite not long afterward, as his machine started to practically sing as it spat out medals for him at a ridiculous looking rate. Kokichi wasn’t quite that good, but he also did fairly well.

According to his huffy attitude, Kiyo managed to do better though, and Maki gave up at some point to take jabs at Kaito so she was considered second to last while Kaede was considered third last. (Oh well, I never was all that lucky anyway. Not really unlucky either, but still this was fun.)

Kokichi was obviously very impressed by Ryoma’s skills and luck to do as well as he did which just earned some sore losers griping from Kaito much to Kaede’s amusement. She did try to muffle her giggles best she could, but that quickly became an impossible effort. Even Maki couldn’t wipe the sly smile off her face as a thought crossed her mind.

“It’s hardly either of their faults you happen to be the idiot who doesn’t know how to quit even if he does manage to get ahead.”

“Come on Maki Roll, stop calling me an idiot! It hurts my feelings ya know...”

“Then stop acting like one. There’s hardly anything smart about gambling in the first place. There’s a reason it’s illegal and I’m not going to bail you out if you get addicted to it.” Maki chastised him, and with her aura, Kaede could almost believe her false talent of child-caregiver wasn’t wholly misplaced.

“Hey now, you’re talking to Kaito, Luminary of Stars! No way I’d do something as uncool as get hooked, I can stop whenever I want! My instincts were just off today is all.”

“That’s not the best argument for your case my friend, and there’s more this than instincts and luck,” Ryoma said, as he stared at his coin pile at a loss for how he would actually carry any of his winnings.

“Luck’s just a superstition, it doesn’t really matter if you try hard enough!” Kaito exclaimed, though Kiyo only shook his head at that as he began his own ramblings.

“And how exactly do you believe you can “try” hard enough with slots of all things? Surely you must see that the other options here have some level of skill about them yes? And besides that, it’s hardly as much a superstition as you may believe-”

“How is it that after we got stuck in a school without any teachers we still managed to end up with a guy who’d end up giving us all lectures anyway? I didn’t wanna learn today…” Kokichi groaned.

“Kehehe, then why invite me of all people? My inclination towards education is hardly an unknown fact here. But back on topic, it’s odd someone who puts so much faith in the power of personal belief to try to denounce the power of superstitions. If you truly don’t believe in the supposed superstition their effects should hardly affect you, much like many practices in religions like Voodoo.” Kiyo continued after Kokichi’s interruption, though upon the mention of “Voodoo” Kaito looked rather ill again.

“The reason they last in the cultural consciousness as long as they do is but a testament to how many of its people still believe in them, rather than proof of any grains of truth to be found. This can get to the point idioms can exist in common usage for long after the meaning of their words have been lost to the people that use them in favor of the concept they are thought to represent. Humanity often puts a lot of faith in the power of words and the hopes that by using them to influence the hearts or minds of others that they can sway the powers of fate in any manner of ways. Luck is more often based on observation and personal perspectives, as what counts as “lucky” or “unlucky” is incredibly subjective and fickle.”

“Basically. Though confidence can change how something’s going to go too." Ryoma agreed. "You can’t expect to win a match if you go in thinking you’re going to lose. The mind’s a powerful thing, that’s why things like placebos can work at all. That’s why in sports it can get easy to develop personal patterns or pre-game rituals, you get to thinking if it worked well before it will again.”

“But luck isn’t a superstition because it’s only there if you want to see it and superstitions are more complicated than that? Ugh, this stuff is confusing! Let’s just have some fun with the games! It’s Ryoma’s pick, right? So shoot.” Kaede suggested in hopes of finding something to lighten Kaito’s mood.

As Ryoma also saw the problem he offered to play the 1-on-1 mode in Outlaw Run against him, while at Kiyo’s request Kokichi finally got his game of blackjack. Implicitly under the threat that Maki would throttle him if he tried using the joke that started all this again. Maki turned out to be pretty good at it while Kiyo didn’t fare as well. As Kokichi was willing to share the rules to it as they went along Kaede at least got the hang of it before they moved onto the other arcade options.

It was a nice night overall as they fell into idle chattering, seeing how much they could win. Kaede quit after she earned enough for her headphones though, but she stayed with the others after trading for her desired spoils just to enjoy this atmosphere for a little longer.

When Kaito called it a night Ryoma left with him, with some light-hearted bantering with Kokichi as the latter tried to give him a “Death Flag” under the pretense of it being like a Jolly Rodger dissolving into a brief debate about space pirates.

As Maki left some time afterward, apparently having gotten herself the Space Egg Kaede noticed before, Kaede went with her so neither girl would be wandering around on their own at night. (What can I say, some instincts are hard to break. And it’s not like they’re really out of line in this place now are they?)

The walk back was fairly quiet, as Kaede didn’t really know what to say and Maki wasn’t often one for conversation, but it was a pleasant silence between the unlikely pair. A far cry from how tense things could be around the revealed assassin before, which in itself was a hopeful sign of progress.

But not one that was able to last, as Kaede began to hear arguing coming from behind the doors to their dorms. Kaito’s voice first as his was louder and deeper, and given how things have been going the second was likely Angie’s.

Kaede sent a nervous look to Maki, to see if she should go first to make sure things wouldn’t be too hostile to her friend, but Maki paid no heed to it and opened the doors herself. Kaito and Ryoma still hadn’t gone to their rooms yet and Angie, Tenko, and Tsumugi were standing near the opposite wall.

“So what if we were out a bit late? There ain’t any official curfews and we’re more likely to wake someone up by talkin’ here than we would have if you let us be. You’re all overreacting, back off.” Kaito complained.

“Official curfews? Maybe, maybe not, but there will be one for us all starting today." Angie said. "Atua thinks the next murder would most likely happen at night, like Himiko’s did before, and as such the student council will be responsible for making sure everyone else is safe in their rooms when nighttime comes from now on.”

“And let me guess, for you guys to “enforce” it this rule won’t be actually applying to any of you does it? So this would only be keeping half of everyone here inside. Not sure how that would prevent anything.” Ryoma said, being one of the few keeping his volume lower than normal for the sake of those sleeping.

“Of course it would when that half doesn’t include anyone we know has a penchant for violence!” Tenko barked, placing herself between Kaito and Angie.

“Seriously, this again?! And that’s bullshit, you’re the one here most prone to throwing us guys around! Not to mention Kirumi’s outburst. Ryoma and Maki haven’t threatened anyone, not even when she had her video freak her out back then… Well okay, she says scary stuff sometimes, but she doesn’t mean it!”

Kaito was clearly making the effort to keep his voice down, but with his personality, it was hard to keep his enthusiasm from causing his voice to raise. But at least no doors opened to see what the ruckus was.

“I don’t need anyone defending me here, Kaito, so stop it. But I agree with Ryoma. Even if your Atua isn’t a lie with so many people still being allowed out during this danger period the odds haven’t really changed. You’ve just limited the potential murderers and victims to put your own people at the greatest risk.”

“Fine, fine~" Angie sighed. "Then I’ll ask Monophanie if she and Monodam will do the rounds for us with their Exisals tomorrow night, okay? Since she’s sleeping like Atua is right now and I don’t know where he would be.”

“What the fuck?! You’ve got to be kidding, you can’t seriously be trusting these clowns! Basic wilderness survival tip: Never. Trust. A. Bear. With absolutely anything! EVER.” (Exactly! And that reminds me-)

“So, should I ask Monodam to reopen the manhole cover while we’re taking the risk of asking them for favors? I saw what you guys did earlier, this isn’t something you should be deciding for everyone alone.”

“THEY DID WHAT-” Kaito stopped himself mid-yell as he remembered himself and tried again. “You guys did what? That’s going way too far-”

“Come on, let’s all just go to bed okay? It’ll just plain bother everyone if we wake them up like this. Why don’t we talk about things tomorrow after we’ve all had some rest and time to think?” Tsumugi offered to try and settle things down, as she began nervously looking at the rooms around them.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea too. This needs to be discussed with everyone, we won’t accomplish anything here otherwise.” Kaito gave Kaede a worried look but backed down at her request. They didn’t say anything of where the other council members were or when Kokichi and Kiyo would be coming back.

Kaede thinks she heard their footsteps signaling their return a short time later as she was trying to sleep, as neither set sounded as heavy as Gonta or Kibo (despite the latter’s small stature) and both lacked the gentle clicks of Kirumi’s heels so she assumed the other members had already gone to bed.

But that wasn’t her only interruption as she heard a squeaky set of knocking at her door. She ignored the first few sets of rapping, but after the fifth set of three squeaks she gave in and found Monodam on the other side wearing a sleeping cap and a blankie. (What the actual hell, didn’t I see enough of you today?)

“Err… Hello. I’m-Sorry-If-I-Woke-You-Up-But-I-Heard-You-Have-An-Item-You-Could-Use. I-Thought-This-Would-Be-A-More-"Polite”-Way-To-Ask-You-About-It. May-I-Come-In?” (... Is this about the Love Key?)

He took her moving to the side as permission and puttered his way in like a sleepy toddler, giving Kaede’s collection of dolls an odd glance as he took a seat on the couch, patting at the seat beside him. With a sigh she humored him, and he began to explain while swinging his feet from side to side.

“This-Is-My-First-Time-Doing-This, Normally-Father-Didn’t-Let-Us-Help-Since-It’s-Past-Our-Bedtimes. But-Monosuke-Didn’t-Want-To-And-Monophanie’s-In-Angie’s-Room-So-It’s-My-Job-Now. So… Do-You- Have-Any-Ideas-On-How-This-Works? We-Know-You-Didn’t-Buy-It, Only-Kibo-And-Kiyo-Have-Bought- Them-So-Far-And-Only-Kibo-Used-His.” (Woah, what? KIBO??? Not like… Miu or Angie or something?)

“I, Uh… Kiyo gave me the general idea of it sure. If I go I’ll meet up with one of my friends at random and play out some sort of “scene” with them. That’ll… Probably be suggestive. But they won’t remember anything about what happens in there if I go.”

“Correct! Except-It’s-Not-Actually-Random, We-Choose-Who-Goes-With-You. We-Try-To-Make-It-With- Someone-We-Think-Makes-A-Good-“Ship”-With-You. Monophanie-Got-Really-Into-That-Part, She-Has- Charts-For-You-All-And-Everything-Now! We-Think-Father-Went-According-To-Popular-Demand-Too. Do-You-Want-To-Use-It-Tonight?” (“Popular demand”? According to what? Or who? What even is this?!)

“... That depends, can I just tell you who I’d like to meet? Or ask who you have in mind?”

“It’s-Not-Fair-For-You-To-Pick! Even-If-Kibo-Would-Have-Picked-Miu-On-His-Own, Father-Still-Didn’t-Let- Him-Choose. But-According-To-Monophanie’s-Charts… I-Think-Kaito-Had-More-“Ship-Tease”-With-You-Today-Than-Kokichi-Or-Kiyo. But-Which-Of-Those-Three-Is-Still-Up-To-Me.”

NOOOPE. NOT HAPPENING. Either Maki kills me or I’ll wish she did. No matter how nice Kaito is I’m not doing that to her. And heaven forbid I get either of those other two, definitely not interested. I don’t want to think about that stuff with Miu, but if Kibo didn’t forget… That might explain some things. But it’s just too sad to consider right now.

“Yeeeah I think I’ll pass.” (Potential for embarrassment and self-preservation beats curiosity this time.)

“Oh. That’s-A-Shame, We-Don’t-Really-Know-How-This-Works-Yet. Sorry-Shuichi-And-Rantaro-Aren’t- Here, They-Were-Monophanie’s-First-Picks-For-You. And-Kokichi’s-Too, Which-Was-Kinda-Weird-To-Me. Maybe-Things-Will-Be-Different-Tomorrow-Night.” (I… I’ll just forget I heard that. For multiple reasons.)

“Do… Do you even understand what a “love hotel” is ?”

“Of-Course! It-Is-A-Place-Where-Things-Like-Father’s-Videos-Happen. The-Ones-With-The-Delivery-Men- And-Women-Who-Keep-Ordering-Things-Without-A-Means-To-Pay-For-Them. I-Don’t-Understand-Why- They-Keep-Doing-It-Though, And-Monokid-Would-Always-Kick-Me-Out-Before-The-Payment-Issue-Was- Resolved-So-I-Don’t… Miss-Kaede-Why-Are-You-Holding-Your-Face-Like-That? Did-Your-Eyes-Fall-Out?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not sure what I should have expected here really.”

“Okay. It’s-Fine-If-They-Did-Though, It-Happens-To-The-Best-Of-Us! But-With-That-Question-Answered- I-Have-Another-Thing-To-Ask…” Monodam got a bit nervous so Kaede nodded for him to continue. “Is- It-Okay-For-Me-To-Stay-Here-Tonight? Monosuke-Says-He’ll-Do-The-Announcements-By-Himself-Now- When-He-Kicked-Me-And-Monophanie-Out-And-Angie-Said-It-Was-Okay-For-Her-To-Stay-With-Her. So- I-Thought-I’d-Ask-Is-All...” (Good grief, seriously? Why me? I can’t go kicking a kid out this late, even if he’s a cub. That’d just be fucked up. So is a bunch of childish robotic-teddy-bears kidnapping us, but still.)

“Fine, You can stay. Just for tonight, I’d rather you not get in the habit of this. Hopefully, you can work things out with your family tomorrow or something.”

He wasn’t really listening as he just gave her side an awkward hug. But any moment had was quickly lost.

“Thank-You. I-Also-Hope-This-Will-Just-Be-For-The-Night. Your-Collection-Of-Tiny-Not-Fathers-Is-Rather- Disturbing-To-Me. Shuichi’s-Room-Has-Shelves-For-Those-If-You’d-Like? So-You-Can-Get-Them-Off-The- Bed-So-You-Can-Sleep-Better-”

“But they’re teddy bears, why shouldn’t they be on my bed with me? Who keeps plushies on a shelf?!”

“... Miss-Kaede-You’re-Worrying-Me. Why-Do-You- Like -The-Not-Fathers? How-Do-You-Fit-In-That-Mess- Anyway? Are-You-Okay? Is-This-A-Cry-For-Help-”

“Do you want me to kick you out? And why did I become a “miss” instead of a “bastard” if you’re going to keep being rude about how I keep my own room?”

“No-Miss-Kaede, I-Will-Stop-Questioning-Your-Creepy-Not-Father-Pile. Monophanie-Said-Angie-Told- Her-That-If-We-Want-To-Be-Friends-Calling-You-Bastards-“Bastards”-Is-Bad. Am-I-Doing-Okay?” (NO.)

“Well, uhh, that’s good progress for you? “Miss” is much more respectful. So just… Keep working on it.”

“... Is-It-Complaining-If-I-Ask-To-Use-A-Different-Bed? Like-This-Chair? It-Is-Comfy-And-I-Fit-Well.” It was pretty clear he just wanted to be as far away from her Mini-kumas as possible, further helped by the chair facing away from it. Being a rather bouncy seat for him was just another plus he was enjoying.

“Sure, just give me a minute.” Kaede went through some of the Monomachine prizes she had to find something to help make a better bed. (A rude uninvited guest is no excuse to be a poor hostess, right?)

As she came back and gestured for him to get down so she could make his bed she realized the blank stare he kept giving the toys on her bed was probably his best attempt at a glare. With a chuckle, she laid down a wearable blanket as a little nest and added her Helping Yachi for some company, which he appreciated as he snuggled into place with another set of “thank yous”. It was almost cute, all things considered. (Ignoring how he’s a murderous little brat only here ‘cause no one else can stand him.)

Nothing else came up as she tried to go to sleep again at least. Not even her previously racing thoughts about the current motive’s potential dangers or unpleasant memories of the days previous, as she chose to focus on her unwanted roommate’s odd sounding snoring to help ease her into slumber at long last.

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[elementseries]

EleMenT Chapter 115

Chapter 115: Broken Man

  “Heeeeeey~! Dante wake up already!” Dominic’s voice calls out. “Please stop that! He still needs his rest!” a woman’s voice said. “He’s been resting for several days now, and I’m bored as heck over here…” Dominic said. Dante slowly opens his eyes, his vision blurry at first but clears up in seconds. He sees Dominic standing at the foot of his bed with Veronica berating him. “You’ve just woke up less than a half hour ago, you have no room to judge…” she told him. “Yeah but I’m awake now so it’s time for him to do the same. Time for Dominic’s Wake Up Call Chop!” He said, putting his hand over Dante’s head and got ready to karate chop the top of his head. “Stop that at once!” Veronica shouts. “I’m awake you idiot…” Dante said as he sat up. “Dante!! Good to see you’re alright!” Dominic gives a very hard pat on his back, causing an irritated Dante to make a loud grunt. “Ow…” he said softly. “Don’t do that! He’s still injured!” Veronica shouts. “I’m fine…” Dante said and began getting out of bed. “Ah! Stay in bed! You’re not ready to leave yet!” she shouts at him. “Yeah come on, let’s go see how the guys are doing eh?” Dominic grins as he headlocks Dante. “Oi…” Dante groans out. “Will you both listen to me!?” Veronica shouts at them.

  In the manner of seconds the both of them lays in their bed with a big bump on each of their heads, both having tears streaming down their face. “Now you two stay in bed, I’ll get the commander…” Veronica said, her fist smoking as she walks away. “…so, we lost big time didn’t we?” Dante said, starting down at the foot of his bed. “Yeah but hey, we’re alive so we’ll get him eventually!” Dominic grinned at him as he spoke. “Hmn… but we never loose…” Dante said. “It was bound to happen ya know? I mean we’re pretty amazing when we fight together, but there will always be someone stronger! That’s why we just gotta get stronger ourselves!” Dominic told him. “…” Dante stays silent. “You guys did a lot better than I could ever do…” a voice said. They looked over at a bed across from them and saw Dale laying quietly. “Oh hey, sorry did we wake you?” Dominic asked. “No, I’ve been awake. Too much in deep thought about my… failure” Dale told them. “Hey come on you did your best out there” Dominic reassured him. “And my best didn’t do anything” Dale said. “Neither did ours…” Dante responded. Dominic looks at both of them and said after a sigh, “Jeeze guys, just be glad we made it in one piece eh?”

  “He’s right! You three did an amazing job back there!” Grover said as he entered the room “Commander?” Dominic asked, surprised at his praise. “If you three haven’t hold the enemy off as long as you could, we’d have suffer many more casualties on our side. It ended in a stalemate, but at least neither of our enemies were victorious” Grover said. “Though I feel like I didn’t do anything…” Dale said. “Nonsense! You fought bravely to save your fellow troops! You’re a hero in my eyes!” Veronica suddenly shouted. “…?” All four of them were silenced by her sudden outburst. Her face turned red and she looked away in embarrassment. “I mean… you shouldn’t feel bad…” she said. “Well… if it hadn’t been you two, I wouldn’t be here today, that’s for sure” Dale said and looked at Dominic and Dante. “Thank you for saving my life” he said. Dante gives him a nod while Dominic smiles and gives him a thumbs up. “Alright you three, no more talking and get your rest!” Veronica told them. “Aw come on, we’re feeling fine!” Dominic swings his arm in a circle as he tried to convince her. “I wasn’t asking” Veronica said in a stern voice, channeling electricity between all her fingers in one hand. “!” All three of them quickly laid down in their beds perfectly still. “That’s better” she said.

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  Few days later, Dominic was at the base watching a news report on a small and old TV covering Theodore C. McLaren holding a meeting with both the human extremists and elemental extremists’ leaders to have them drop their weapons and stop the war. “I don’t know how far he’ll go with those two stubborn mules…” he commented to himself. “It would be a miracle if he could actually get them to agree to anything. “Though I do give him kudos for being brave; confronting those two warmongers and staying in a room with them.” He looked around and saw the place was nearly barren with only a few soldiers and staff. “Well, now my insecurities are in need of social activity but no one’s really here… hey Tom!” Dominic called out to a soldier. “Where did the general go?” he asked. “General Grover said something about helping a bunch of people who lost their homes during the war” Tom said. “Oh that’s cool of him. What about Dale?” Dominic asked. “Oh… him and Veronica went out somewhere… to be alone if you… ahem… catch my drift” Tom said with a sly smirk and winks.

  “Err… I guess. Wait, what about Dante? He doesn’t usually leave the base unless he has a mission” Dominic said while scratching his head. “Dante? Hmmm… I think he went out scouting…” Tom said. “Ehh? For what? Without me?” Dominic said, pointing to himself with a sad look. “You were sleeping, what was he supposed to do?” Tom asked. “Wake me!” “Well he didn’t wanna be rude…” Tom said.

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  “Should be around here somewhere…” Dante said as he traversed a thick forest. He looked down at his map and said, “I heard the location from those two clearly…” he thought of what he overheard two human extremists soldiers say while he hid behind a tree a day ago, hoping to get intel from them. “Yeah, it’s a little mansion hidden in the forest, we take any elementals we can find and bring them there. Just north of here. Can’t miss it…” Dante eventually saw the small black mansion in the distance. “Finally… now I can rescue those elementals” he said and made his way towards it.

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  “Not bad Davis! You have a real mean right hook!” Dominic said as he walks with a fellow soldier from the base’s gym, both sweaty and lightly bruised and carrying towels and boxing gloves. “Keep training and you’ll best me yet!” he said with a grin. “I dunno bout that, no one can best you Novastar Bros., but thanks for the encouragement” Davis said happily. After they walk separate ways, spots Dante walking through the door. “Yo Dante! Where’ve you been man?” he asked. “How about a spar?” he asked, but saw Dante was walking with his head tilted down and his hands clutched into fists. “Hey you alright man? You’re brooding more than usual…” Dominic said. “….nothing. It’s nothing…” he quietly said. “Just… tired of this damn war. I’m going to lie down…” he walked passed Dominic without looking at him. “Well aright. All of us are tired of this war too, so just cross your fingers and hope it’ll end soon” Dominic said and walked away. He didn’t realize Dante’s arms were shaking, his eyes bloodshot and his pupils shrunken, his face covered in sweat, and his breaths deep and hoarse. “It will never end…” he whispered to himself.

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  Just one day later, a miracle happened when a message from the World Government shook the world and caught everyone by surprise: Theodore C. McLaren, a high ranking official and negotiator, was able to convince the leaders of both opposing supremist parties to cease fire, drop their weapons, come to an agreement, and sign a peace treaty. To this day it’s unknown how Theodore was able to get both leaders to stop fighting; there was no recording of their meeting as they wanted to keep it private. According to the government they were just as tired of fighting as everyone else. However the nightmare has finally ended for many. The war has ended. While watching the broadcast on the television, Dominic, Grover, Dale, Veronica, and all the rest cheered happily, throwing their arms in the air and some even crying tears of joy. All except Dante… who just stood there, leaning his back against the wall, staring at the TV with eyes like daggers as the events he witnessed after opening the black mansion’s doors were still clear and vivid in his mind. He heard the screams of despair, agony, fear, and pain of various elementals and saw the horrid acts the humans preformed on them.

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  “You’re what!?” Dominic shouts in shock. “Are you deaf? I said I want to travel the world…” Dante said, annoyed by his outburst. Several days has passed since the war ended. Everyone has been sent back home, the new government has been established for both humans and elementals to prevent any more race wars between the two. “Yeah but it seems so sudden, you never talked about doing that before…” Dominic scratched his head. “It was… a recent decision” Dante told him. They discussed their plans for the future after all the fighting has finally stopped. “Aw man… I was hoping you’d become a grandmaster with me!” Dominic said. “Stuck in an office teaching disobedient children all day every day? Not my thing… besides, there can only be one grandmaster per city remember?” Dante said. Dominic looked away, crossed his arms and said, “I could bend the rules a little and make us a pair…”

  Dante sighs and looks off to the distance, “Sorry Dominic, I just hate the feeling of being cooped up in one place.” “Well do you like to wander around a lot… guess this means this is the end of the Novastar Brothers eh?” Dominic asked. “…of course not. We’re still brothers even apart” Dante said as he continued to stare out. “You got that right! I wish you luck bro!” Dominic grinned and puts his fist out. “…same to you, Grandmaster” Dante bumps fists with his. Dante leaves as Dominic watches, a concerned look on his face.  “What’s wrong?” A woman next to him asked, having long brown hair and purple eyes [Dominic’s Future Wife: Barbra (Age 28)]. “I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. It’s like a shadow was casted over him ever since a few days before the war ended… I don’t know what it is…” he told her.

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  “Maybe it was my fault for not realizing it sooner…” Dominic said back at the present as he took another swig of whiskey. “Why did you wanted to travel the world? To see if humans were really that bad? Or were you just trying to clear your mind? In any case… witnessing the tragedy of the Albatross Clan and learning it was a human responsible… it was the final nail in the coffin was it… the next time I saw you after all those years… you said you couldn’t believe in my dream of perfect co-existence between us elementals and humans…” he said, closing his eyes and remembering that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “After all these years I finally get to see you again and now you’re saying this nonsense?! We fought in a war to secure peace together, how can you just suddenly go against that?!” an angry Dominic shouts [Dominic, Age 44]. “The government can’t be trusted anymore… not with the sins I witnessed the humans commit…” Dante told him [Dante, Age 47]. “What are you talking about!? What sins?! I thought you wanted peace between humans and our race like I did!” “Things change…” Dante said, his hands shaking. “…” Dominic calmed down a little and began to say, “Dante, just what did you…” “Sorry Dominic…” Dante interrupted. “I cannot support you anymore. Humans and elementals living together is something I disagree with. Both must be separated… and I will do something about it…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Dominic puts the bottle of whiskey which was now half full next to Dante’s cross. “You were suffering… weren’t you brother? I’m sorry… but I hope you found peace now” He got up and walked away from his brother’s grave, leaving a photo of them both when they were in the war. “Goodbye, Dante Novastar.”

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

[729renegades]

“PROSPECTS BUY FROM PEOPLE THEY KNOW, LIKE AND TRUST”

. . . Says Dan Kennedy, author of the ‘No BS’ series of business books.

The journey took almost 45 hours’ door to door and most people thought, “Jay, you poor bastard, I’d be tearing my hair out”.

And yes, to most it would seem like a nightmare, it’s all about perspective.

So many people said, “if you travelled Business Class you would not have had that problem”, but I can’t see a problem. Flying doesn’t stress me like so many others and I get so much done.

So, I was travelling to Cleveland for a 3-day seminar with one of my business mentors, Dan Kennedy, author of the ‘No BS’ business books.  To ensure that I didn’t miss any of it, I left a day early. That way, when the seminar started, I’d have had a day to recover from jetlag and would be able to absorb all info that he had to share. Unfortunately, the security gods of the airport wanted to hamper that plan, and as a result of missing 2 connecting flights and getting my bags lost, I finally arrived just in time for the summit.

When I was in Toronto, I was told that I wouldn’t be able to catch a flight that evening and they would fly me out the following day. Aggh, after waiting a further 3 hours at the airport, they finally put me on a flight that had gone technical and, as I sat in the seat, there was a technician fastening the baggage box above me with a piece of wire and Gaffa Tape! I kid you not.

Half an hour earlier I was checking on Uber to see how much a taxi would cost to make the journey and, had the flight been cancelled, I would have collected my bags and booked an Uber to take me to Cleveland; I could have slept in the taxi for the 4-5hr journey and I would have been fine.

Why would you not just take the plane the next day?… I bet you’re thinking. Simple. The seminar is not cheap; it’s a massive investment that most would baulk at. But to those that attend year on year, the value to our businesses is proportional to the amount that it is implemented… and as I said before, I wasn’t going to miss a single minute!

All of my marketing strategies are generated from and being exposed to this information, so I feel privileged to be able to afford to attend and would not miss a second, if that was at all possible.

For those of you that have not read any of Dan’s ‘No BS Direct Response’ philosophies, then start by reading the ‘No BS Guide to Direct Response Marketing’, available on Amazon… buy the hard cover, and start implementing. Also check out his ‘Magnetic Marketing’ series, worth every penny and more if you care to heed the advice.

And no, I don’t buy into the BS of, “my business is different” or “I live in the UK, so the American way of business won’t work”. Give me a break.

OK, so what did I learn and what one piece of information was worth the trip and the cost alone? Well it’s in the title: People buy from people they know, like, and trust.

Yeah, but Jay, we all know that already, so what? That’s what I thought. I’ve got over 60 action points taken over the 3 days of things that need to be implemented.

So, what is the first step in getting people to know, like, and trust, and the single most important resource you have that can make this happen?

Well that’s your life story, and the better you share that story, the more value it will have.

Great people have been telling me for years that I’ve got an incredible life story that I should publish, but inside, whilst I know this to be true; without sounding big headed, I really don’t want to bore my customers with an epic novel of trial and tribulation.

In Dan’s course, ‘Writing with Personality’, he talks about putting real life stories into your copy to refer to situations that customers could and would find themselves in.

Since implementing that style of writing, I’ve found that the copy with the most interesting personal stories is also the one my prospects refer to when they first come to visit.

So, would they even read the life story?

Well, here’s the point: those that do, are more likely to become customers because they have engaged with you at a personal level.

So, what have you got to lose?

Now I had already decided to shoot my life story, and some of you may have heard the interview that Steve did with me. The interview was simple: sit with Jay and let’s see what comes out in an hour and a half, and because we are both army people, that story is one of many relating to my life and the impact military service had on it.

It’s one perspective, and, while it’s good, had I attended the seminar with Dan before recording that, I would have structured it differently and I would have been a lot more prepared.

Jay what are you talking about, your life story? Is your life story, ‘Tell it the Way it is’?

Yup, but that’s where you’d be missing the point completely. The whole point of writing your life story is not for self-gratification, it’s not designed to be a, ‘look here, look how much I’ve achieved, look at what an interesting life I’ve had’. That’s a biography.

Nope the reason for writing the life story, the ‘who am I?’ is to find as many levels to connect with your prospect as possible.

As a result, you need to know the psychometrics as well as the demographics of your customer so that, as you write, you can include the stories that they’ll identify with.

The more points you reference that make connections, the more chance you have of getting the deal, and most importantly, the less price has to do with it. As I found out, people will pay more for service from someone they trust than a ‘salesman’, I mean that in the broadest terms.

Unfortunately, as Dan puts it, this may mean that you’ll need to cut some of your best stories, the ones that you tell at the table to amuse. Why? Because those stories, interesting as they may be, will not resonate with the ideal customer, and importantly, not do credit to your expertise.

As an example: one of my favourite stories is how I plumbed my Mother-in-law’s dishwasher into the water main. And how I realised the mistake I’d made when the dishwasher was filling up with gas rather than water; and then offered to go back to my factory to get my gas torch and some solder and fix the problem!

Mmm, I know what you’re thinking: you too would love to do that.

But alas, whilst it’s entertaining, the mere fact that I sell some of the most expensive wood gas combination pizza ovens on the market, huge beasts that bellow fire and cook 1000s of pizzas per day, it may not rest well with my customers. What do you think?

So, to write the story by formula, you need to know exactly who your customer is and have the perfect customer avatar nailed down hard. The stories would be stories that you’d tell at a cocktail party if you were invited with his or her friends.

So, if your ideal customer is someone who goes to the pub after work with his mates, the stories would be completely different from those that you would tell in your book if they attended wine tasting events instead.

If your customer, on the whole, lives in a council house and has no intention of ever owning a house, then the stories would be different from those that you would tell if they had a detached house in a gated community.

If your ideal customer is a pacifist who avoided the draft, then it’s quite clear that your story based on military experience would drive them away.

If your customers tend to be on the whole self-employed capitalists, then stories about the working hours and liberty of the staff and staff-rights will drive them away.

Remember you can’t be everything to everyone.

Recently I was driving past a local garden centre, they had a new sign up: ‘Something for Everyone’. How sad, they would have, in my opinion, been better off to say, ‘If you have expensive taste, you will love what we have on offer’.

So, if you have different segments of customers, you need to talk to each segment differently. Identifying what to say and what stories to tell is the challenge and the key to unlocking the chest.

The event I attended was called ‘Marketing to the Affluent’. Yup, it’s fair to say that I have positioned myself up there as the expert in wood fired ovens. But again, Dan said that there are a proportion of your customers who are willing to pay more than you charge, more for being who you are, than for what you know. But these high-end customers also need to be treated differently to the majority. Striking a happy medium between being available and unavailable is one of the most important lessons we can learn. By being unavailable you make yourself valuable and making the affluent wait means that you can feed them information to engage. Plus send them stuff to make them feel valuable. The better the quality of the stuff you send, the better the chance of engagement.

At last count I spent approximately £146 on Google to acquire a customer, and I spent about £6 on postage.

Dan says, the one mistake he’s made, is not spending enough to buy customers early on.

When I asked if there was an equation for calculating the right amount, he asked me how much I thought I should spend. Up to this point, I had thought I was reasonably marketing savvy and replied “as little as possible” … Ooops, mistake. I think if Dan had had a hangman’s noose and it was tied around my neck, he’d have pulled the leaver. The next 20 minutes was hell and he literally climbed into me for my stupidity. His point was, and rightly so, if I was paying £146 on average for a customer, how many more customers would I have, if I spent £300 to acquire each one. He finished off by advising that the person who could afford to pay 10x what his competitor was prepared to pay to buy a customer, would ultimately win, as long as they had enough profit to make it viable, though each route to market would have a different cost of acquisition.

Again, as an example, if you attended a trade show and your cost of acquisition rose to £2000 per customer, on average does that mean you should not attend? On the contrary; if you are making sales and you can still make a modest profit, then you should still attend. In some markets you may be able to achieve high gross margin %, just be sure that you are, and you have crunched the numbers right.

The thing that will get you noticed is your expertise in the field you specialise in, and the way in which your own story conveys the journey you’ve experienced to gain the expertise you have.

The more detailed and personal the story is, the more chance you have of resonating with the prospective customer. But the kicker comes once that person has acquired your product, they’ll start to re-tell your story to others as a point of conversation, elevating your position and increasing the chance of referral. Not because of what you sell, but because you are the go-to guy in that industry.

So, start making notes on events in your life, just key points at this time, and then start writing each story, first as a paragraph, before bulking it out. Many will remain paragraphs, but the lessons of importance will become chapters, and once finished should have engaged your target demographic.

12 chapters.

12 different demographics with which to engage.

Each chapter full of paragraphs designed to engage with different people within that demographic.

I’ve already started with a vengeance and can’t wait to get it finished.

But will you?

        from Blog | 729renegades http://bit.ly/2PASbjW

[deadpixldot-blog]

So Injustice 2 is The Best Fighting Game Ever?

Post by Kevin Colòn

If you haven’t been playing Injustice 2 that’s understandable. There’s a lot of games on the market right now, you may not have the time, maybe work is really stressful right now? The game hasn’t been out for TOO long so you can definitely catch-up, you’re just missing the best fighting game of all time and I can’t let you do this to yourself!

Now I’ll be quite frank, my opinion (if you haven’t been able to tell) is going to be pretty biased with this article. Way back when Injustice: Gods Among Us was first released I practically hot glued myself to my PlayStation 3 console. I learned combo after combo, completed the story mode in a Mountain Dew fueled all-nighter the night of its release, and almost 100% the game’s trophy list before putting the game down a good year or two later. I’ve honestly plugged more hours into Injustice’s first iteration than I have into breathing (or fine dining- brownie points for anyone who understands my joke there).

Though I may be reviewing Injustice 2 with “beer-goggles” I don’t want to take credit away from how amazingly good the game is despite my clearly influenced opinion. I wasn’t paid by Netherrealm to write about how much I love their latest project, I just felt compelled to do so after playing it, which speaks to how good this game really is.

Nowadays there are a lot of games that introduce what I like to call a “What The F***” jump in graphic quality, and Injustice 2 is definitely one of those games. About 2 seconds into the story mode the incredibly detailed facial animations become evident and really show you how much time and effort was put into creating this masterpiece of gaming awesomeness. What really surprises me is how well the facial animations hold up throughout the in game fights and character dialogues. Put the game under a microscope and you’ll have a hard (if not impossible) time finding animation errors whether it be through facial animations or just how the characters move about in general. As far as super-powered, overly-exaggerated, not-at-all possible body movements go, the DC cast animate ridiculously naturally.

Then there is the amount of detail that went into designing their faces all together. It’s a video game, and, they look like… real people. Facial features are way more profound and I’d have to question the intellectual capability of someone who wouldn’t be able to tell two characters apart in this game. Even if they didn’t know who Superman or Black Adam were and they referred to them as “those really strong guys” they’d still be able to choose them in a line-up if one of those “strong guys" stole their wallet.

It’s hard to really drive a point home about the design of the characters given Injustice 2’s new gear system. If you don’t understand (or care in which case HOW DO YOU NOT CARE) the system, essentially every character in the roster has an enormous variety of gear which can be equipped to them to improve their stats or grant them new abilities. It’s an interesting system. With that being said it does come with its pros and cons.

Pro: Some of the gear looks f****** awesome!

Honestly you should just look at some of the gear options that are available for characters like Swamp Thing and Red Hood. Practically anything you unlock for them looks amazing!

Con: Some of the gear looks f****** stupid.

This bullet point on my venn-diagram of opinions may be a bit harsh. What I’m trying to say is, there are some characters who’s gear choices don’t really make them look any better. My prime example would be The Joker, who’s gear basically equates to some hats, face paint, and hair-cuts. Ultimately, boring as all hell.

Pro: Some of the abilities are f****** awesome!

You can unlock "double-batarangs” for Batman, a mini-gun for Green Lantern, and a staff for Robin that adds a whole new move-set to his arsenal. They’re pretty damned cool.

Con: Some of the abilities f****** suck.

You can unlock an ability for Catwoman where she literally summons a cat and it attacks your opponent. There’s even a trophy/achievement that revolves around using this blasphemous move. Atrocitus is in this game, and his Cat (Dex-Starr) is a Red Lantern that can shoot energy beams. Catwoman summons a normal domesticated house cat that scratches you. Not to mention that the majority of the cast, you know, her opponents, are either metahumans or possess some sort of mystical powers. Superman and Supergirl can shoot lasers from their pupils, Black Adam throws lightning around like it’s going out of style, The Flash can travel at the speed of light, and Catwoman brought a cat. Okay I’m getting carried away now I feel it.

Pro: Different abilities help vary gameplay and keep fights from becoming stale overtime.

Now this may not be true if you’re a hardcore fighting game fan, or Catwoman. However for the casual player the option to diversify your moveset at the drop of a hat and instantly change the way you can use your favorite fighter against your unsuspecting friends is the kind of thing dreams are made of.

Con: Using this gear online f****** sucks.

It doesn’t always suck. Some abilities hardly effect gameplay. However here’s the scenario you’ll usually end up in when you jump into Player Matches online in Injustice 2.

When playing online matches in Injustice, unless you choose to play Ranked Matches you’re opponent will have to agree to play in what’s referred to as “Competitive Mode” which will de-activate your gear’s effects and make them purely cosmetic. If they don’t agree then you’ll be pitting your geared up superhero (or supervillian I’m not here to judge) against theirs. With that in mind…

Scenario 01: Your opponent has better gear then you. Their stats are higher, they’re wearing pure gold practically and they came to party. They notice your gear is, shall we say, not up to par. They refuse to turn competitive mode on. Good luck.

Scenario 02. You have better gear than your opponent. They realize this and continuously toggle the option for competitive mode on and off and refuse to choose a stage hoping they’ll influence you to meet them half way and turn off the gear.

The problem? Both of these scenarios involve the same type of player. Lets label them the “Beloved Statistic” or “B.S.” for short. *UPDATE: As of Red Hood’s release  there have been a multitude of players in player matches refusing to turn on competitive mode due to the fact that Red Hood has an ability that opens up a lot of combo potential and they refuse to play without it. At least in Ranked Matches they’ll have no idea what to do without it. _

So essentially the gear is going to elicit some mixed reactions from gamers, but overall I’m happy with it.

There is the inclusion of the Multiverse which presents players with different challenges to complete. It’s a welcome addition to the single-player experience that fighting games have been thankfully trying to enhance in the past couple of years (you can thank Netherrealm for that too by the way)! The challenges update constantly and provide a decent challenge depending on how unfamiliar you are with a certain character. I have found that if you use your best character, nine times out of ten you’ll complete any challenge in no less than 15-20 minutes, and that’s if you’re struggling.

The story mode is FAN-F******-TASTIC! I won’t discuss what happens because I am a man who appreciates not spoiling things for other people, but trust me it’s great. It may be a tad bit predictable but it sure is entertaining. It’s also a great way to get acquainted with a good half of the cast. Emphasis on the word good, because you won’t be using the villains very often, but you will get to punch their faces in so you take what you can get.

There is also an AI Battle Simulator mode which I play as an easy way to unlock gear but aside from that doesn’t offer much in the entertainment department. In this mode you designate three characters on your roster to act as your “defenders”. With their newfound responsibility they will face AI opponents (designated by other online players) who will attack them. If they win you’ll get a Golden Motherbox which has a high chance of containing epic loot. If you lose you’ll receive a Bronze Motherbox which usually will grant you gear that you’ll most likely trade in for gold later on. These rewards will only last for your first 5 matches (attacking and defending separately) every day. So while it’s an easy way to try an obtain gear. You won’t be investing hours into this mode.

“That’s all I have to say about that.” - Forrest Gump

All in all Injustice 2 is the fighting game all/most/some of us have been waiting for, and you are doing your country a disservice if you are not playing the living f*** out of it. I’m not big into giving scores when I review things but whatever score method you like the most, Injustice 2 gets a perfect score.

If you ask me at least.

Which you didn’t.

But you read the whole article and that’s on you.