#yeah i forgot this one existed too. dunno why but it always struck me as a gen 2 retrofit evo for gloom as opposed to

[front-facing-pokemon]

[number-one-micoverse-fan]

Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

----------

“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, “I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He’s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Chapter 35

Warnings: same as the other ones

Rating: SFW

(A/N: this was my favorite scene from COM)

You and the trio left the Eleventh Floor entrance and entered the world of Twilight Town. 

“Gawrsh... Where are we, guys?” Goofy asked.

“Hmm... I dunno... I've never been here,” you said.

“Same here,” Sora said. 

“Me neither,” Donald said. Jiminy jumps down from Sora’s shoulder.

“That can't be right! Up 'til now, the only places we've been are from Sora's and (Y/N)’s memory,” he said. 

“Maybe so, but I definitely don't remember this,” Sora said. 

“You might have forgotten this town just like the other stuff,” you said. 

“This is terrible. Our memories are practically gone,” Jiminy said. Donald and Goofy looked down in despair. You and Sora took out Naminé's good luck charm.

“We'll be okay. See, look at this...” you said. 

“Naminé's good luck charm!” Goofy said. 

“There's a special memory that goes with this. One night, when Naminé, (Y/N), and I were little, there was this meteor shower. Naminé started crying. She said, ‘What if a shooting star hits the islands?’ So I said, ‘If a shooting star comes this way, I'll hit it right back into outer space!’ I was swinging this toy sword around the whole time while (Y/N) was hugging Naminé. Naminé just smiled and said, ‘Thanks.’ And then she gave us this,” Sora said. An image of Naminé entered you and Sora's head. She began to talk.

“Sora, (Y/N), I'm so sorry. All this, because of me...” she said. The image faded away. You and Sora kept talking about the charm.

“Naminé said she had these ever since she was a baby,” you said. 

“And she gave them to you two? Aww...” Donald said.

“Yeah. So we promised her... From now on, we'll bring you good luck. we'll keep you safe. But then one day, Naminé left the islands...and we forgot about her all this time. We really let her down...” Sora said. 

~~~~

You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy came to the entrance to a mansion inside the town. Sora stopped and looked around.

“What's wrong?” Goofy asked. 

“Something...feels really strange. I'm sure I don't know this place, but it's starting to feel like it's familiar to me...” Sora said. 

“You must have come here sometime before,” you said. 

“No, and that's what's strange...” Sora said.

“It could be like with Naminé. You forgot lots of other stuff---and that's why you remember this place now,” Goofy said. 

“No... It's different. With Naminé---my memories...sort of came drifting back to me, a little piece at a time. But not now. It's not memories---just this idea that I must have been here before.” 

“So, feeling nostalgic?” Vexen appeared and you all tensed up.

“Sora, (Y/N)...a question, then, for you... Your memories of Naminé or your feelings here---which of the two of these is more real, I wonder,” Vexen said. 

“Naminé, of course! Whatever it is that we're feeling, I bet it's just another one of your mean little tricks!” you said. Vexen laughed. 

“The memory's wiles can be cruel. In its silence, we forget. In its obsession, it binds our hearts,” he said. 

“Cut the riddles!” Sora said. 

“I told you--- This place was created solely from another side of your memory. It is on the other side of your heart that the memory of this place exists. It is your heart that remembers.” 

“You're wrong! I don't know this place!” Sora said.

“If you remain bound by the chain of memories and refuse to believe what is truly found inside your heart... ...then throw it away. You are not a Keyblade master---just a slave to twisted memories. Yes... Exactly like my Riku.” Vexen summoned his shield.

“Your existences is worth nothing!” he said.

“Like YOUR Riku? Worth nothing?” you asked. You and Sora was overcome with anger.

“That's enough! YOU'RE the one who changed Riku! Every word you've said is a lie! I'd never throw away my heart!” Sora said.

“Neither will I!” you said. Sora summoned his keyblade and you grabbed your dagger.

“I'm gonna take you down and save Riku and Naminé. THAT'S what's in my heart!” Sora said. You and Sora fought Vexen. After the fight Vexen laid on the ground and panted in pain.

“Urrgh... You have such strength, even at the mercy of your memory---” Vexen groaned.

“None of that matters! Just put Riku back!” you said. Vexen laughed. 

“Just put him back?” he asked as he got up.

“The Riku you speak of...has but one fate, to sink into the darkness--- and you will share that fate, Sora and (Y/N)! If you continue to seek the girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you'll lose your hearts...and end up becoming Marluxia's pawn!” he said. 

“Marluxia? What does Naminé have to do with---” Sora asked. Axel's chakram flew past you and Sora and struck Vexen. Axel was behind you and Sora. You and Sora turned around and gasped.

(Here comes the best part!)

“Axel!” you and Sora said. 

“Yo, Sora, (Y/N). Did I catch you at a bad time?” Axel said. Vexen started to get up.

“Axel, why...?” he asked. 

“I came to stop you from talking too much...by eliminating your existence,” Axel said. 

“No... Don't do it!”

“We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still ‘are.’ But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You're off the hook.”

“No... Please don't!” Vexen cowered.

“I don't want to---” 

“Goodbye.” (I laugh at this every time! It’s so funny!) Axel snapped his fingers and Vexen was engulfed in flames. He then faded away into darkness. You and Sora watched in horror.

“What are you--- What ARE you people?!” Sora asked. 

“Hm... Don't know. I wonder about that myself,” Axel said as he disappeared. You, Sora, and the gang left Twilight Town. Meanwhile, Larxene and Marluxia were in the Organization's meeting room. Axel appeared in the room.

“Nice work. I say good riddance to that blabbermouth,” Larxene said.

“Marluxia... You used Vexen to test Sora and (Y/N)'s strength, didn't you?” Axel asked. 

“Not just Sora's. It was yours, too. We weren't sure if you actually had it in your bones to take out a fellow member.” Larxene walked over to Axel.

“Well, I guess that you did. It's time to join up. Taking over the Organization will be like child's play with the three of us,” she said. 

“So that's where Sora and (Y/N) comes in,” Axel said. 

“Of course. They want to see Naminé, so why don't we just give them what they want?” While Larxene was talking with Axel, Marluxia started talking with Naminé.

“Rejoice, Naminé. The time is near for you to meet the heroes that you've been longing for,” Marluxia said. 

“I'm...glad,” Naminé said.

“But I'm warning you. You'd better not do anything to betray Sora and (Y/N)'s feelings. Do you understand me, little one?” Larxene said. 

“I understand.” 

“All you need do is layer Sora and (Y/N)'s memories, and bring their hearts closer to you. And remember, (Y/N) is a spirit who may have ties to our superior. She’s strong. Make her feel weak,” Marluxia said. Him and Larxene disappeared.

“Sora, (Y/N)... Even if you come for me---what then?” Naminé asked. You and Sora entered the Eleventh Floor Exit Hall. The two of you were greeted by Riku.

“Riku!” you and Sora said. 

“You'll hurt Naminé if you go further,” Riku said. 

“You still want to fight? But Vexen's gone, so now you're free!” you said. 

“It doesn't matter what happens to him. I'm protecting Naminé from you two. That's what's in my heart. Sora, (Y/N), I made a promise to Naminé. I promised to... keep her safe.” 

“You did?” Sora asked. 

“There was a meteor shower...this one night when she and I were little... Naminé got scared and said, ‘What if a shooting star hits the islands?’ So I told her: ‘If a shooting star comes this way, I will protect you!’”

“You made a promise! With a toy sword! And hugged her!” you said. 

“What... How do you know about that?”

“Because...that was the promise we made to her that night! We would protect her! We said it! And (Y/N) hugged her!” Sora said. 

“Don't lie! You weren't the one there that night!” 

“YOU're the one who wasn't there! That was when she gave her good luck charm to US!” you said. 

“Her what?!” You and Sora took out the charms.

“See?” Sora asked. Riku gasped.

“Tell me... Where did you get that?” he asked. There was a small flash, and Riku held his head in pain.

“Sora, (Y/N)...good try,” he said. 

“Huh?” you and Sora asked. 

“That must be a fake. I've got the real one right here!” He took out a similar charm. 

“Wha--- THREE of them?!” Sora asked. 

“Fakes should be destroyed!” Riku said. You, Sora, and Riku broke out into a fight. After the battle, Riku panted.

“Riku...” you said. Riku ran away, leaving his good luck charm behind.

“Huh?” Sora asked. He picked up the charm and Donald and Goofy appeared.

“Isn't that Naminé's good luck charm?” Donald asked. 

“It's just like ours,” you said. 

“How'd he get this?” Sora asked. The charm glowed and gave off a strong light.

“Woah!” you all said. The charm turned into two cards of Destiny Islands.

“It turned into a card!” Goofy said. You and Sora walked toward the entrance to the next floor. Donald and Goofy stayed back, thinking about what's happened.

“Aww...I don't understand what's going on...” Donald said. 

“Let's just keep moving, okay? It doesn't matter,” you said. 

“It DOES matter. How can two of you have the same memory? You can't both be right.” 

“I'm wrong? Fine, then don't believe me!” You felt your eye twitch in pain and held onto it.

“That's not what he meant. We're just kinda worried,” Goofy said. 

“Then let's ask Naminé! That should clear it up. Look, we don't have time to sit around. So let's GO,” Sora said. Donald and Goofy exchanged looks.

“Sora, (Y/N), what happened to ya?” Goofy asked. 

“What's THAT mean?” you and Sora asked. 

“Well, ya always get real touchy when it comes to stuff about Naminé... But before we came to this castle, you two didn't even remember what her name was.” 

“Now Naminé is the only thing you two talk about,” Donald said. 

“It doesn't make sense. Maybe you two should just slow down and think ahead about some of these things.”

“Think ahead? What is the matter with you guys? Do you want me to abandon her?!” you asked. 

“No, that's not it---” Donald said. 

“Then do whatever you want! You can lay back and take a nap for all I care! WE’RE going to find Naminé!” Sora said. You and Sora ran ahead into the next floor, leaving Donald and Goofy behind.

“Sora! (Y/N)!” Donald and Goofy said. They looked at each other, worried. Meanwhile, Axel and Naminé were in the Organization's meeting room. 

“You're all that they got left. So then, if you don't stop this, no one will,” Axel said. Naminé gasped.

“But I... It's too late,” she said. 

“You shouldn't give up just yet. Say, Naminé. Have you noticed? Marluxia doesn't seem to be around,” Axel said.

“What are you...saying?” 

“Just that there's no one here who would want to get in your way.” Naminé ran out of the room.

“Just make it count. Now THIS should be interesting. Try and make it enjoyable, Sora and (Y/N). It's the least you can do for me, you know,” Axel said. He laughed. He then noticed something and clutched his chest.

“Hey, wait. I'm enjoying this. You guys ARE something else!” he said.

~~~~

You and Sora entered the Twelfth Floor. The two of you took out the Destiny Islands card and looked at it. Jiminy popped out from Sora's hood.

“Sora, (Y/N), that was no way to---” he said. 

“Keep it to yourself!” Sora said. The two of you were about to walk through the door but another headache hit you. This one was more painful than the others. It was so painful that you ended up screaming in pain.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” Sora asked. You didn’t respond but only groaned in pain. 

~~~~

You were back where you saw your mom and your dad. This time, your mom was laying in bed, rubbing her tummy which you knew that was you inside. 

“We need a name,” she said. 

“How about, Odile?” Ira asked. 

“Nah. Don’t like it.” (sorry if your name’s actually Odile)

“Okay. How about (Y/N)?” 

“(Y/N)...I like that.” You smiled at the scene of your parents deciding your name. The scene faded and you saw Vanitas walk up to you. 

“Vani? Vani!” you said. You ran to him and hugged him tight. 

“I saw what happened to you and I’m so sorry. Dad’s getting stronger by the minute,” he said. 

“What should we do?” you asked. 

“I-I don’t know. If you find Ven, tell him that you’re my sister. I’m sure he’ll understand what you’re saying.”

“But what about my eye? It looks like dad’s. What’s happening to me?” 

“Remember when I sent you away?” 

“Yeah.”

“I did it so that dad wouldn’t use you as a vessel but it seems like your bond with him is what making your eye look like his. And if this continues, he’ll make you his vessel.” 

“Vani, I’m scared.” 

“I know. Let’s try not to think about it. Tell me about your adventures. I haven’t heard about those.”

“Okay. Um, I found out that my mom is a spirit like me. Her name’s even on my dagger.” 

“That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

“And that’s not all. Whenever I get these headaches, I see what my mom actually looks like, and dad’s not actually my dad. It’s someone named Ira.” 

“I knew that you weren’t actually his daughter. Not only did you have more light inside you, he told me that you weren’t.” You felt Vani starting to disappear. 

“I don’t want you to leave yet,” you said.

“I know. But just know that I’ll always be by your side,” he said. He slipped through your arms and gave you a little unversed. 

~~~~

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Sora asked as you relaxed from your headache. 

“Y-yeah,” you said. You sat up and felt something in your lap. You looked down and saw that it was the unversed that Vanitas gave you. 

“What is that?” Jiminy asked. 

“Vani...” you said softly. The unversed looked at you and purred. 

“I-I’m not sure what it is but she seems to like me,” you said. 

“What are you gonna name her?” Sora asked. 

“Odile.” Sora smiled and helped you stand up. The unversed climbed up onto your shoulders and found comfort there. 

“Ready?” Sora asked. You nodded and the two of you headed into the new world that was waiting for you. 

To be continued...

[dogbearinggifts]

Missing in Action

Umbrella Academy

Author’s Note: This is Part Four of my Sheepdogs series. If this is the first time you’re seeing this series on your dash, I’d definitely recommend going back and starting with Part One, He Saw the Ghosts, a slight AU exploring what might have happened had Klaus spoken with a kinder vet in the VFW scene. Dead Ringer and Tattoos With Better Stories follow the vets he meets as they try to offer support while trying to determine just why he looks so much like an unidentified soldier in a fifty-year-old photo. 

All installments are available on my AO3 account. 

The man’s name was Arthur, and tracking him down had proven, from the beginning, to be more difficult than Richard liked.

Sometimes he enjoyed the search. He liked to find a clue and follow the breadcrumbs down a trail to a discovery both expected and surprising, examine and marvel at all the little facts he picked up along the way. He’d never been fond of puzzles, but after putting the metaphorical pieces together on more than one occasion, he thought he’d finally grasped the appeal.

But there was a difference between struggling to find where a puzzle piece fit and putting the picture together only to find pieces were missing.

The friend of a friend put Richard in touch with a friend, who wasn’t home but—thankfully—was up on answering messages. A call to the number Richard was given also ended at an answering machine, but he’d only waited a short while for a call back before his phone rang again.

“God, I’m sorry,” the friend—Trevor—said. “I forgot—he’s visiting one of his kids. You want the number where he’s staying?”

Under ordinary circumstances, Richard would have said no, he’d left a message and that would be fine; but thoughts of Klaus made him hesitate. Accept the number and interrupt the man’s vacation, or delay the call and delay answers until after Klaus showed his face again—perhaps long after.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter. He’d faced Klaus more than once without an answer to a single one of the questions the younger man raised; doing so again wouldn’t be impossible. The kid needed a place to run to, a friend to listen. Richard could provide that without knowing where he’d come from or where he’d served or even his last name.

And yet….

He couldn’t face Klaus again, not with all those questions nagging at him. Not with doubt gnawing away at compassion and suspicion threatening to push concern aside.

“You sure he won’t mind?”

“Nah. If he can’t talk, he’ll let you know.”

Richard wrote the number down, thanked Trevor and hung up, but didn’t dial it immediately. The digits scrawled on a piece of notepaper—they were just a number. A sequence that would bring an interlude to a stranger’s visit with his family, if not grind it to a halt. Maybe things would stop there, end with the voice on the other end of the line announcing that he knew next to nothing about the unnamed soldier in the photo.

But maybe not.

Richard brushed a thumb over the paper. It was just a number, but it felt like a key.

Arthur preferred to be called Art, and if a stranger intruding on a family visit bothered him, his voice didn’t show it.

“I’ve spent the last forty years bouncing around the whole country,” he said with a laugh when Richard apologized for the interruption yet again. “Probably made me hard to track down.”

“Just a bit.”

Art laughed again. “So you want me to come on down today, tomorrow, when?”

Richard glanced again at the number he’d taken down. He’d been told the man had somewhat settled in Arizona, but the area code looked familiar. “How close are you?”

“’Bout forty minutes away.”

So his daughter had wound up in one of those towns scattered around the city, the ones that lured tourists in with a cultivated quaintness and a Main Street designed to separate them from their money. “We’ve got his photo at the VFW here in town.”

“I can get there tomorrow. You got directions?”

Art beat Richard and Jim to the VFW, and despite only starting his walk once hands were shaken and introductions made, he beat them inside and reached the memorial wall a few paces before they did.

“This the guy?”

Even before he closed the gap, Richard knew which soldier his pointing finger highlighted. “That’s him.”

A smile tugged at one corner of Art’s mouth and then the other, but no sooner had it spread than it lost whatever innocence it might have had, turning wistful at best. He shook his head. “Should’ve known Klaus would show up in the last place you’d expect.”

The name was like a thunderclap. Richard tried to think of something, anything to say besides asking him to repeat it, something that wasn’t incoherent stammering.

“Klaus?” If Art heard Jim’s voice increase in pitch, he didn’t show it. “That’s his name?”

“His parents were ahead of the curve, I guess.”

“My great-grandpa’s name was Orange.” Richard wasn’t sure how he managed to get the words out at all. “Married a woman named Blossom and never heard the end of it.”

“Klaus. He have a surname?” Jim asked. It sounded casual enough, but Richard heard the strain in it, the forced nonchalance.

“Hargreeves.” Art frowned, looking to the photo again. “Always did think that was weird, once the Academy started making headlines.”

Klaus wasn’t too unusual of a name—not like Orange. It hadn’t been the sort of name most mothers would bestow upon their children back in the forties, but it had existed. So had Hargreeves. If the parents of a perfectly harmless baby boy who had done nothing to deserve it could nevertheless choose to saddle him with a name like Orange back in 1843, then a Mrs. Hargreeves in the 1930s or 40s could name her son Klaus.

Richard tried for an unhurried gait as he moved closer to the photograph of the unnamed soldier—toward Klaus Hargreeves, if Art wasn’t the perpetrator of the world’s strangest and most twisted practical joke. Maybe if he were able to remove it from its frame and study it without the glass, he’d be able to find some discrepancy between this Klaus and the one he knew. It was the light, he decided. The light kept him from seeing it clearly, gave an admittedly spooky coincidence more meaning than it deserved.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Art frown. “You okay?”

Richard didn’t try for a smile, or even a reassuring tone. Art struck him as a smart guy—too smart to be brushed off with something like that. “You want to sit down?”

There was a table somewhat close to the photo, and that was where they set up operations. Jim fetched a few drinks from the bar and passed them around; Art held onto his beer a moment before speaking.

“You know, I figured I’d just come in and name the guy.”

Richard kept both hands wrapped around his soda as he tried to find the proper words. It was tempting to toss all the cards on the table and let Art sort them out—but there was still a chance that all this was a coincidence or something darker. Throwing everything out into the open could muddy the waters before they had an inkling of what lurked beneath.

“We’ve had some….weird shit happen, these last couple of days,” Jim said without looking up. “And it all ties back to that guy in the photo.”

“To Klaus,” Art said.

“Yeah,” Jim said with a hint of a sigh. “To Klaus.”

“We still don’t know shit about him,” Richard added, motioning between himself and Jim. “But you do. Maybe you can help us clear a few things up.”

Art fell silent, gazing down at his beer. Richard tried not to hold his breath, tried not to let anticipation and disquiet show on his face. He tried not to watch, too, but that proved fruitless. Slowly, Art’s expression softened. Slowly, it became a smile.

“The guy was a trainwreck.” He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “But God, he was fun.”

He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. Richard had seen that smile before, wry and expectant all at once—the smile of a man who knew he had some good stories to share.

“This one time, I was just sitting there, minding my own business, and Klaus walks up, plops himself into my lap and goes ‘Trust fall!’” He chuckled again. “Of course, he didn’t get to that part until I was already cussing him out.”  

It wasn’t that Richard forgot the reason for Art’s presence. It wasn’t that he tossed the purpose of hearing his stories aside. But as Art told another story followed by another, as he relaxed into memories he may not have shared before, reason and purpose took a backseat. They remained in the back of his mind, but he was laughing too hard to hear their guidance.

Richard still hadn’t gotten his wind back from laughter at the last story when Art slapped the table. “The ghost moose! Almost missed that one.”

Jim coughed on his beer. “The what moose?”

Art leaned forward with his elbows propped on the table. He liked to do that and gesture broadly as he spoke, Richard had noticed. “So, Klaus didn’t know how to drive once he got in country.”

“How old was he again?” Richard asked.

Art frowned, as though he’d never considered the question before. “I…I dunno. Late twenties? Anyway.” He waved the question aside. “So we’ve got to teach him. He’s in the driver’s seat, bumping along—and there’s nobody for miles. Out in the middle of nowhere. But everything seems to be going great, he’s finally getting the hang of it, and then all of a sudden—bam! Guy slams on the brakes, almost pitches us all out. We’re all ‘What the hell, you almost got us killed,’ and he just stares at the road a minute and then he goes, ‘I thought I saw a….moose.’”

“You’re shitting me,” Jim said.

“Nope.” Art chuckled. “He said it just like that, too—like he knew he had all of two seconds to think of something good and that’s what he came up with.”

Richard gulped his soda. “A moose.”

“Yep.”

“In Vietnam.”

“That’s what the rest of us said, but he goes, ‘Well, maybe they lived here millions of years ago and now there’s a ghost moose walking around, ever think of that?’”

Art grinned through the laughter that followed.

“I’ll bet that story took off,” Richard said when he’d straightened out enough to speak.

“God, yes. After that, every goddamn shadow we saw was the ghost moose. Officers pull some new bullshit? Ghost moose. Mail’s delayed again? Ghost moose.”

Richard grinned. “Did the ghost moose have a name?”

“Spurlock,” Art said after another gulp of his drink. “Think it was Charlie who said we should call him Reginald. I thought it was a great name for a moose, but Klaus didn’t like that one, and since the ghost moose was his idea—”

“You wanted to go with something he liked,” Jim finished.

“Yep. Not sure where he came up with Spurlock, but it stuck.”

The name sounded familiar, but Richard couldn’t quite place it. He was still trying to match it to a face, a news article or anything else when Art nodded to the photograph on the wall.

“Every man in that picture came up with at least one story about the ghost moose. Dave started writing them all down one night. Gave the collection some long and important name, like For Those Who Have Seen Shall Never Unsee: Visages of Meese in Their Spectral Forms. But those stories...God, they were wild. That moose was into some weird shit.”

As much as he wanted to remain where the stories and laughter had brought him, Richard couldn’t ignore the nudging back toward the purpose of the whole meeting. “Dave….Katz?”

Art nodded. “He and Klaus were pretty close.”

Richard thought the way Art averted his gaze signaled something more behind those words, but the silence lasted less than a moment before Art shook his head slightly.

“Klaus was no idiot, though. Said some dumb shit, but he was a smart guy.”

Jim gave a wry smile. “Think everybody served with that guy sometime.”

“Better than a dumb guy who says a lot of smart shit,” Richard added.

“Yeah….” Jim exhaled, setting his beer on the table. “Served with him, too.”

“I tell you he knew Nixon would get elected?

Richard couldn’t say what about the question sent a jolt through him, but he’d learned years before to listen to that. Instincts could be off, but they could also be like a sound from far away, signaling danger not yet visible. “No.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race, who everybody was gunning for—and Klaus goes ‘Eh, Nixon’s just gonna win anyways.’” Art shook his head again. “Figured it was the drugs talking, but come November, guess who’s president?”

The image of Klaus stumbling into a laundromat, covered in sweat and on his way to another club, resurfaced in Richard’s mind, but he pushed the thought back. “He knew?”

“Said it was a lucky guess.”

Richard looked to Jim, saw the same disquiet he felt reflected back, and pressed on. “Nixon won with—what? Forty-three percent?”

“Something like that.”

“And he just said Nixon was gonna win.”

“Like he knew,” Jim added.

“Look, the guy….” Art paused, pressed his lips together. “He wasn’t the only one who used, all right? Not by a long shot. And he said a lot of things like that. Just weird shit. Some of it made sense, some didn’t. But at the end of the day, he was a guy you wanted with you when shit hit the fan.”

Art sat back, and It took more of Richard’s willpower than he cared to admit to keep from slumping in his chair. He wasn’t defeated, he wasn’t chastised, because this wasn’t a fight. Just a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding he couldn’t clear up until he corralled the bizarre ideas and half-baked possibilities swirling through his head into something resembling coherent speech.

After a long silence, Jim was the one who spoke. “When’d he join your unit?”

“I don’t remember exactly when.” It was thoughtful, a consideration. There was still a hint of temper behind it, a note of irritation, but nothing more. “I know he did, since he wasn’t there from the beginning, but I don’t remember him ever joining. He was just kind of…there one day.”

“He ever say where he was from, when he got drafted?”

Art’s frown deepened. “Never did say. He was from here, though. Pretty sure.”

Jim’s questions had set Art pondering things he might not have pondered before—and sharpened the cold unease in Richard’s middle. Details no longer swirled past one another like debris in a tornado; they fell to the ground, snapped into place like pieces in a puzzle. He wasn’t sure he understood the picture they formed, but he needed to be sure. He nodded to the tattoo on Art’s bicep, the bottom half visible beneath his sleeve.

“Did everybody in your unit get that tattoo?”

“This one?” Art rolled up his sleeve, revealing the same tattoo Klaus had worn: a skull emblem below the words Sky Soldiers and 173rd Airborne Division. “Yep. Same place, same everything.”

Not quite the same. Where Art’s tattoo had faded and blurred with age, the one Klaus wore—the Klaus he’d met, at any rate—appeared more freshly inked. “How long was he there?”

Art looked down at the table. Any trace of mirth had vanished the moment questions took a turn he didn’t like, but Jim’s more routine inquiries had brought a sort of wistfulness, as if decent memories had begun to simmer at the back of his mind—the sort that needed no defense or explanation, only sharing. Every bit of cheer drained from him at Richard’s question.

“He didn’t even make it a year.”

Richard felt the bitterness in those words—had felt it time and again, when yet another friendship ended at the front line. He shut his eyes, trying to turn the flood of unwanted memories into a stream, turn the deluge into a current he could stand against.

“Him and Dave both. Fight ended, dust cleared. Dave was dead, Klaus was gone without a trace.” Art’s intake of breath shook. “Lost ‘em both that night.”

There was nothing to fill the silence that followed. Richard could have tried. Could have repeated some of the same platitudes he’d been given, knowing they’d remain empty no matter how much sincerity he poured into them.

Once again, Jim spoke first.

“You said they were close.”

It was an observation, and a gentle one at that. Art didn’t lift his gaze from the table, hands wrapped around his beer.

“You know, I think Dave might’ve been the first one to talk to him. Can’t say for sure, since I don’t remember when Klaus joined, but Dave? Saw the guy looking around like he still couldn’t figure out how the hell he wasn’t back in the States and thought That guy needs a friend.” His mouth tipped, more in rueful memory than genuine mirth. “There was a while, in the beginning, when the rest of us were wondering how the hell Klaus made it through basic without learning a goddamn thing, and Dave’s there with him, showing him what to do. Just all, ‘Try it that way. Do it like this. You got it.’”

The image of Klaus—the Klaus he knew—wearing David Katz’s dog tags surfaced in Richard’s mind. A quickly traded glance with Jim said his friend entertained similar thoughts—with similar disquiet.

“You never heard anything else, after he went MIA?” Richard asked.

Art exhaled. “I’m sure he’s dead by now.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to glance at Richard, meeting his gaze with a frown. Richard gave a small shrug, and Jim returned his attention to Art.

“You remember if he had any other tattoos?”

Art frowned. “Why?”

“Like Jim told you,” Richard said slowly, “there’s been some weird shit around that guy in the photo.”

“Yeah, but what do tats have to do with it?”

“We’re not sure we know, either,” Richard said.

Art gave them both a long look, let out a short sigh, and leaned forward. “Yeah. Had an umbrella on his forearm. I…always thought it kinda looked like the Academy logo, but never….”

His train of thought ended as his gaze shifted between Richard and Jim.

Richard knew he ought to speak. He didn’t trust himself to offer a full explanation, but he knew he should say a few words at least. Stammer something. Begin a sentence and end it too soon. But the more he fought for words, the more they eluded him. In his mind’s eye he saw Klaus concentrating on his knitting, Katz’s dog tags around his neck as the umbrella on his arm flicked in and out of view.

Klaus.

Klaus Hargreeves.

Klaus Hargreeves, haltingly asking about Richard’s time in Vietnam as he practiced stitches.

All the impossibilities bound up in that one, all the questions that went along with it, were nothing compared to that one certainty. He didn’t know how. He couldn’t say why. But in that moment, Richard would have bet money that the Klaus he knew, the Klaus Art knew, and the Klaus Reginald Hargreeves had adopted as an infant were one and the same.

Art’s gaze managed to pin them both down. “Are…you guys gonna tell me what’s going on, or….”

Richard drew a breath and then another. The first one shook, the second was steadier. He needed a way to phrase what he had to say, a means of softening it, but there was nothing. “I don’t think Klaus is dead.”

For a fraction of a second, Art’s face went entirely blank; then half a dozen emotions warred for dominance. Confusion. Shock. Anger. Relief. Despair.

Hope.

“If you’re shitting me—”

“I’m not. Swear to God, I’m not.”

“So what the hell made you say it?”

Richard opened his mouth to answer, traded a glance with Jim and thought better of it.

Jim drew a long breath and pointed to the photo on the memorial wall.

“Because I caught him crying over that picture just a few days ago.”

[izartn]

Dunno I’ve been thinking and the last book I remember liking by RR was The Son of Neptune bc outsider pov on percy??? I’m always a sucker for those. Also the Leo and Jason parts of the first of HoO; Piper was meh, Jason a little less meh and Leo surprisingly good. But I just lost any major interest in the series with Mark of Athena; it was entertaining but it didn’t thrill me anymore. Maybe I had grown too old? But mostly I think it was so many charas saturating the plot. 

But really, The Last Olympian is such a good finale? Of course I wanted to read more of Percy and Annabeth but I was so happy when I finished it... And of course the undervalued Kane Chronicles, whose mythology and fantasy I liked even moren although the charas weren’t superior; that trilogy deserved so much more. 

The nome system, the different specializations and rituals and the way the protags are living gods at different points of the story??? the whole walt-anubis-sadie situation? and zia, omg? The romance is also wonkers in this trilogy, it’s so subtly creepy-wrong and the supernatural vibes... But like, when treated more seriously. Hello Sadie is 13 by book 2 and I completely forgot that bcs she was being romanced by a god and a 15-16 years old, and doing dangerous things and being Isis avatar, and like no way she is that age. Also, Anubis as a 5.000 years old teen is like... no, riordan. It’s still being a bit weird. I wasn’t expecting the kiss >_< You could’ve made it an interesting exploration of the mutable qualities of the egyptian gods and the lack of like, modern standards of behavior, and then go ahead with the Walt-Anubis plotline. And after PJO and seeing the results of god-human unions... Play with what it means, but for the love of god, Sadie’s age >.>

But I loved her being obsessed with Adele bcs by then I was too. XD

TW INCEST. Here I go off the rails speculating for a parragraph on ancient egypt royalty and the kanes, if you don’t want to read it, close the tab or scroll past it, it’s nothing too dark, nor it’s explicit in any case. More like the result of reading too much weird fic. 

And really that no one (no god ever) ever mentioned the practice of marrying family in egyptian dynasties to horrorize or joke a little to carter and sadie? (i know my mind is perturbed but these two see each other when? once, twice a year a bit more in the lucky ones? honestly if this was and adult or even ya and the author another it’d been an interesting conflict treated seriously. keeping canon ending pairs et all!!)  Although carter knows for sure and just hasn’t clocked in what it means they’re the blood of pharaohs. Yup your ancestors x-generation removed were into incest for purity reasons. And know you’re the incarnation of the horus-pharaoh in earth too. Enjoy! (this is like in yu-gi-oh!! fandom where we pretend the concept didn’t exist bcs too serious and creepy to be treated seriously. and like atem died at 15? 16?)

END TW

 I guess they did the whole explaining the gods have the same relationship their vessels have with each other by feels-possesion double track influence, so that one is resolved, bcs if not it’d be beyond weird that isis is both their mother and the spouse of their osiris-julius and also sadie sometimes. Like, Kane Chronicles mythology is much much older than in other RR series and it tracks with the undercurrents of the trilogy (crap under the radar i think?) and how the gods acts i think.

But you see the above clusterfuck??? If RR had aged a bit the charas, bc is not as if Sadie is a real 12-13 years old, more like a 15-16 one at minimum with how she acts and the narrative treats her, and made Carter like 18-19? Thinking about what he wants out of life and uni, etc because for him it clocks with his arc. Or even older; I think that would be have been better but then it’d be another kind of book. Make Sadie the one starting uni and Carter the one finishing his master in egyptology bcs that’s all he’s known all his life, and he’s interested in it truly, and their father is still the one who wants to reunite the three for Sadie’s birthday going with Carter in plane from whatever university he’s in (could be one in egypt Julius has ties to) and it’s then when all goes to shit.

 The conflict, the stakes... You could treat the family conflict and well, the racial aspect of the books in more profundity. Maybe make them biracial but their father is afroamerican and the mother is british but descendant from egyptian immigrants, so yup. You have that connection with the original land of the myths, and Carter and Sadie perspectives on being poc shoe the contrast btwn the sister raised by her mother parents, and the brother by the father. But that’s need much more sensitivity than RR is able of. I wouldn’t dare to write that book alone, that’s for sure. 

 As I understand it there are more than some problematic elements to RR tendency to diversify his cast without doing profound analysis and research and using sensivity readers so. I’m south european white, I don’t have a real idea of all the messes he made with Kane Chronicles so I don’t have anything more say anything more about this. But yeah, it’d been another demography completely different from the original, and would have needed another author which I think would have suited the mood I get from this trilogy even now. 

We all know the errors RR makes like doubling down on romance forever saving the day and female characterization or his well. Well-intentioned if misguided discourse? (that cursed word) I’m all for social justice, but Magnus Chase read like a pamphlet at various points instead of being organically integrated in the story (KC and HoH have sometimes that problem but in MC is really blatant) who am I going to lie, although Magnus has fascinating potential as a protag.

 And Alex chara too, plus Hearth and Blitzen. I think he made a full on queer protag quartet without realising it (which is why Blitz and Hearth are those two guys instead of confirming any status. like just besties, or qrp or budding romance, which one? we can’t have full on queer quartet) plus Samira and his poor we’ll call it that, handle of her muslim lifestyle from what I’ve seen from muslim fans reviews. (so, my idea of sadie above wouldn’t been plausible) If she’s gonna marry make her at least older than 20? After finishing uni, which I think is something you usa (noarospec) people do regularly without religion or anything? But really marriages just make me go yikes anyway so. Do away with that plot point you don’t have to follow so exactly the myths. 

And so their charas aren’t explored with profundity. Although they could have been really interesting.

 And the ending was... meh. The point was the anticlimax, but Loki was well build enough in the two first books and the third was a deception honestly. 

But again, I think I also simply aged of his books + started noticing his fails. See above my KC tangent. Curiously I think the PJO books (not HoO) are good as they are... No urge to make charas older or anything. The dysfunction is different in both stories I feel.

 I KNOW! It’s because in KC we see the magician society and it’s full of adults and seriousness so it would have fit having two older teens-young adults be the protags, exploring it properly and so Carter and Sadie being the chiefs of the Brooklyn nome and the initiators of the gods path in contemporary times wouldn’t struck me as so weird. The nome politics ;_; We were robbed. 

Compare that to the ways PJO with its ephemeral demigod lives and constant death and youth as the one who bring the necessary change for the gods (plus the absence of older demigods coming back to help in TLO, be it bcs they’re done with greek gods or they’re dead, functions really well following Percy since he’s 12 to his 16 birthday and beyond if he had managed to do the roman fussion correctly. Make it so PJO ends with Percy and Annabeth at 16 and HoO alt series, starts 4-6 years later. Because the roman camp and its senate and norms and village are more serious and imply a heavy adult-political presence, with legacies etc; because the gods are starting to forget their promises; bring up the parallels with Luke and mentions of how live has been treating both Anna and Percy. Enrich the world and make the sequel interesting to your original audience who is much older than when they started reading the PJO books. 

Well. This is a fantasy...We know RR would never ;_; Although he’s done much for young fantasy. And know I’m searching the impossible fic.

[gillianfoster]

cal/gillian post-beat the devil.

The case had been hard on everyone. Cal knew that. Really, she did. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that it had been particularly rough on her - what with the ex-professor/ex-lover and the waterboarding.

No matter what, though, Cal also knew she was incapable of telling Gillian she needed anything from her. As it kept coming up, over and over again, she felt like Gillian had to deal with enough of her shit. Constantly she was trying to keep Gillian out of the things she could, keep her safe and away and good. This was different, though. Cal felt vulnerable and wrong and uncomfortable. She’d suspected to some extent that Martin would come after her and not Helen, but that didn’t mean she’d been fully prepared to be tortured and nearly killed and to come within an inch of death the way she had. She was aching, her chest still hurt, her head ached, and if she hadn’t kept herself tensed she wondered if her hands might still be shaking.

When she asked Gillian for dinner, it had been a request for help. The closest she could come to saying “I need you.” And Gillian had told her no.

So, again. She understood. Gillian wanted time alone to deal with things. She couldn’t clean up after Cal all the time, be there for her every moment. Logic reminded Cal of all these things - but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt. To finally reach out when she needed it most and to be shut down was nearly enough to kill her all over again.

She’d muttered something to Gillian and left - she hadn’t tried to go to dinner, or anywhere. She’d gone straight home. Maybe it would have been different if Emily was home waiting, but she wasn’t. She was with her mum - good in some ways, bad in others. It was good because the whole case Cal had known she was safe, far away from the bloody psychopath who’d been stalking around. It was bad now because spending time with her daughter would have been the next best thing after time with Gillian. Emily would have made her laugh, made her proud, and they’d eat some type of shit dinner like beans on toast and watch telly together - she was the luckiest mum in the world, or at least tied with Zoe, and she knew it. Em was the best daughter imaginable, and Cal loved her to bits. But none of that would be happening either when she got home. The house would be dark. Empty. But a bar would be too much, too, and she knew it. Home was the best option for her.

When she got in, she turned on all the lights and changed into her pyjamas straightaway. She wore the oldest softest flannel bottoms she could find, and even put on socks. She made tea. She turned on the telly for background noise, and settled in at her desk with her laptop and tried to distract herself. She didn’t know how long it’d been when the doorbell rang and she jumped out of her skin. She realized as she stood up that she’d forgotten to eat - again. She approached the door with caution, even though she knew Martin had been caught and was in jail - but when she got close to the frosted glass, she saw Gillian standing on the other side. She blinked a few times and opened the door.

“Gill? What are you doing here? Christ, what time is it?”

“It’s not that late, Cal. It’s only 9. Anyways, I… wanted to come make sure you were alright. I forgot Emily’s with Zoe right now, and I realized when I was leaving the office that you were on your own.”

“Oh, Gill, for God’s sake, come on. I’m a grown woman, I think I can handle it.”

She watched Gillian sigh and she nearly winced at her own behavior. She couldn’t help it though, she was still hurting. She’d given Gill her chance.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. You… asked me to dinner earlier tonight and the reason I said no was… unfair to you. I’m sure you’ve already eaten by now-“

“I haven’t, actually.”

Gillian blinked at her, then frowned. Cal gave her a false sort of grin.

“Cal, it’s 9 PM. Why haven’t you eaten dinner?”

“Forgot?” Her voice and her expression were both sheepish, and she directed them right at Gillian.

Cal was forced back as Gillian rolled her eyes and pushed her way inside. “Right, well, I’m taking care of dinner, then. Come sit with me in the kitchen while I make you something.”

“I can make my own food, Gill,” Cal insisted as she trailed along behind her. Gill’s hair was up, in that little ponytail that was just barely long enough to exist. It looked like she’d gone home, changed clothes, and then changed her mind as well. Cal knew Gill always wore her hair up at home.

“And yet you haven’t,” Gillian replied. “Just come sit down.”

Sitting at the bar, as instructed, Cal stuck up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, you’re the boss.” She paused for a moment, shifting on her seat and then propping her arms on the counter gesturing at Gillian with one of her hands. “Can it be beans on toast?”

“Emily told me that’s all you ever eat.”

Cal scoffed and sat up for a moment. “Since when does my daughter report back to you about me?”

Gillian turned, untwisting the tie around the bread bag as she did. “Since she worries about you, Cal.”

Humming in response, Cal went back to propping her head on her hand, leaning on the counter. “So you said you said no to my dinner request for a reason that was unfair to me. You wanna explain that?”

By then Gillian had turned back around, but Cal could still see her shoulders tense up.

“Not really,” she offered.

It was hardly like Cal was going to take that for an answer. “Right, well. I’m not gonna try and read it on you, love. I’m not sure I could. Not after today. So you wanna tell me or not, that’s up to you.”

Cal had moved on to tracing the shapes in the counter with her finger, but she could feel Gillian’s eyes on the top of her head. She could practically feel the sad expression, too. After a moment, she heard the noise of bread going in the toaster, and she felt safe looking back up, and she found she was back to just staring at Gillian’s back again as she moved on to heating up the beans, pouring a can into a pot on the stove. Cal looked at the way the cloth bunched up at Gillian’s waist until she could practically feel it under her fingers, and then she felt like she had something stuck in her throat suddenly, and she looked away.

“Helen… said something to me today,” Gillian said finally. “Something ridiculous, honestly, and I never should have listened to her. You were her student and she had a relationship with you, I don’t know why I would trust her word on anything - and I didn’t, really. She was awful about Valerie while we were talking outside the box, she was awful about you. It just struck me as off, and it made me want some time alone. But that was inconsiderate of me, after what you went through today, and I’m sorry.”

“What’d she say?”

“Just that… you’re not in things for the long haul.”

Snorting out a disbelieving laugh, Cal slouched further on her stool. “Unbelievable. Of course she’d say that. That’s what I get for breaking it off with my professor, I suppose.”

“You broke it off with her?”

Cal shrugged. “Yeah. She was… I mean it happened for a number of reasons. But after a while it just kept bugging me, you know, that she was my professor. Maybe it was that whole thing about authority you and Emily are always telling me I’ve got, I dunno. Point being I broke it off with her before I graduated because I just couldn’t do it anymore. And I think she was a little upset that I did the breaking off.”

“Well that’s-” Gillian was cut off as the toast popped up and she jumped slightly. Cal smiled.

She watched as Gill took out the toast and moved back over to the beans on the stove, stirring them and watching them, then poking at them with a finger to see if they were warm yet. It didn’t seem like they were.

“You know, Helen and I were only together about a year. And with all the periods that she and I went without talking… I’ve known you for ages and ages longer than I really knew her. I’m not sure I ever really knew her.”

Gill turned and smiled. “And you know me?”

Again, Cal shrugged. “Like to think I do. Do I?”

With a laugh, Gillian went back to stirring. “Yes, Cal. I think you do.” There was a brief pause, and when Gill spoke again, her voice was softer. “Do I… know you?”

“Better than anyone, Gill. You ought to know that. ‘Cept maybe Emily. But there are things I can tell you that I can’t tell her.”

“Better than Zoe?” Gill asked, her voice going just a bit too high in pitch even for a question.

“Gill, I told you things when we met that I never told Zoe. You know that.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Gillian finished heating up the beans in the quiet, and Cal was glad to let her. Just having her there made the room brighter, and made her feel looser and a little more relaxed. She watched as Gillian fixed everything and then came over to set a plate in front of her with her toast, complete with beans. She smiled, and Gillian gave her a fond look and rolled her eyes. She ate, and Gillian stole a bit of toast, and she started telling funny stories from Oxford to make Gill laugh - about the time she’d gotten piss drunk and streaked across a field in the middle of a game of polo and somehow not gotten thrown out of school.

When the food was done, and it was later, Cal was suddenly exhausted, but she didn’t want to go to bed in case Gillian decided to leave. After the fourth or fifth time she yawned, Gillian gave her a stern look.

“You should probably be heading to bed, shouldn’t you? You’ve got to be exhausted.”

Cal shook her head, but undermined herself by yawning again. “Look, I’m… My bedroom’s a mess right now I don’t really want to…”

“Do you want me to stay?”

She hated that Gillian was going to make her say it instead of just insisting - it was very like her, and normally Cal would have told her to go home. Instead, she nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be… Yes, love. Thanks.”

“Of course. Would you… want me to sleep in Emily’s room? Or…”

“My bed’s big enough for two I think. If you don’t…”

“I don’t mind.” Both of their voices were soft, and Cal tried not to flush as she stood up and stretched out her back. She pointed Gill in the direction of the bedroom and went around the house double-checking that everything was locked and turning off all the lights and the telly. Once everything was finished for the night, she made her way to her room.

Apparently she had been too quiet in her approach, and Gill hadn’t heard her. Though Gillian’s back and the back of her head was all she could see, she could still recognize that Gill was holding one of her sweaters, stroking the material with one hand and holding it close enough to her face probably to smell the detergent. It didn’t make much sense to her except that she’d thought about doing the same bloody thing the one time she’d gone to Gillian’s and seen one of her cardigans lying about. She cleared her throat and walked into the room.

She watched as Gill jumped and then folded the jumper and put it back down.

“You weren’t kidding, it is a mess in here,” she said shakily.

Cal went over to her and stepped close. “Gill… could you just…” Gillian looked at her, and Cal pulled her into a hug, holding her close.

It went on for a long time, both of them just holding each other in the corner of the room. Cal nearly fell asleep there until she shook herself and pulled back.

“Come on. Let’s not fall asleep standing up, yeah, love?”

When she pulled, though, Gillian fell against her, and suddenly they were close.

“Helen thought we were together,” Gillian whispered, and Cal could feel the breath in her words brush against her cheek.

“Is that what scared you off? The long haul comment was about that, specifically, and that was what made you pull back?”

“I was… nervous.”

Cal leaned in a little further, and her nose brushed against Gill’s cheek, and they both shivered. “What were you nervous about? Were you nervous about this?”

“Cal…”

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Gillian’s lips, and she lingered until they were properly kissing, both of them involved, both of them clinging and holding and desperate not to pull back. Eventually, though, they both needed more air, and they separated with their lips damp, reluctant to pull back completely.

“I’m afraid I’m going to fall asleep while I’m kissing you,” Gillian whispered, and Cal chuckled.

“Come on and let’s get settled in, then.”

They both got into the bed, first on separate sides, then slowly moving closer until they were curled up together.

“This has been a long time coming. For me,” Cal said. She felt the need to clarify, to let Gillian know that this was important.

“Me, too.”

The two of them exchanged a few more kisses and fell asleep together - and Cal didn’t think again about Martin or Helen or any of it. Even her sleep that night was blessedly nightmare-free.

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week forty

oops

brief considerations of the songs which debuted on billboard on 10.11.1997, 10.13.2007, and 10.14.2017

10.11.1997

1) "Candle in the Wind 1997/Something in the Way You Look Tonight," by Elton John

princess diana seemed like a nice person and i don't agree that it is good that she passed on. i think she should have continued to live, and finally, i found a song that agrees with my worldview.

44) "Too Gone, Too Long," by En Vogue

So real talk this is late because one week I saw two Post Malone songs and I said fuck it because, like, it's, and I just, I don't think it's fair when older generations yell at younger generations? But the average '90s R&B track was infinitely better than the average '10s anything. You could drive down the street bumping the radio and a song like this, with that small miracle that happens around the 3:00 mark, and this would be like the seventh-best song you'd hear. Kids these days are just listening to songs that don't make any stabs at greatness, they just exist in a way that doesn't motivate you to change the station. The problem is with the children. I'm not actually talking about this song, I'm talking about the way people consume music. This song is heckin' great and everyone should listen to it 20 times and then try to get through a Post Malone song.

58) "Heaven," by Nu Flavor

In this overly intense '90s R&B slo jamz, the R&B boys plead to God to convince this woman to fuck them. That sentence is the last thing I wrote for YAS before taking a weeks-long sabbatical and I'm glad I found it.

63) "Love Gets Me Every Time," by Shania Twain

Where do we rank Shania Twain in the diva pantheon? Like, this is a song with a hook I recognized when I heard it, after 20 years of just not thinking about this song I heard "dolgurn gone and done it" and was like "oh yeah! This jam!" and not all singers can dig that deep into your memory, but in terms of historical import, where does she rank? You can't really argue that "country needs a rep in the pantheon" because um hello? Dolly? but there's at least four Shania songs that are absolutely legendary. Does that merit inclusion among the greats? Or is Shania just on that second tier with a Kelly Clarkson or a Carrie Underwood, reliable but not as powerful as the women we'll tell our grandkids about?

65) "Electric Barbarella," by Duran Duran

One of the things that struck me as odd about the film Sing Street was the reverence with which the film treated Duran Duran. I always sort of thought Duran Duran was a boy band, but there was a film set in the heyday of Duran Duran's popularity, with a scene where an older brother extols the virtues of Duran Duran's musicianship to a younger brother, and I'm just like, "I never would have guessed this band was at the vanguard of new wave?" But I guess maybe they were a less dark Depeche Mode and I should check this out because this song from 1997 probably isn't indicative of peak Duran Duran? Hello welcome back to YAS I'm already asking questions to no one instead of offering criticism, it's like I never left.

70) "They Like it Slow," by H-Town

Sometimes, when you abandon a project for a while and come back, you notice things about the thing you're doing that you never would have noticed if you had worked on it in the last two months. To that end: I just realized all the 1997 and prolly most of the 2007 music videos were shot in 4:3. Like, when they filmed these music videos, they were composing shots with the idea they would be on TVs. That's kind of interesting! Like, when you go to film school, you probably have the idea you're gonna direct films, so having to compose shots for a smaller aspect ratio probably fucks you up a little bit. Anyway, I can't tell if this '90s R&B slo jamz is a parody or not.

87) "A Smile Like Yours," by Natalie Cole

"I have seen the bluest skies/Rainbows that would make you cry." It's absolutely amazing which lines in these songs gain significance from 20 years of events. Like, that line about rainbows takes on a whole new meaning now that we've all enjoyed and then forgot about the Double Rainbow video.

91) "Alright," by Jamiroquai

groovy! i’m okay with this! this is like what all the calvin harris songs would sound like if they were good.

92) "Spin Spin Sugar," by Sneaker Pimps

there's so much cool stuff happening in this song and i really just wanna sit down and get to know this band a lot more because they've always seemed like something i was supposed to like and now i realize that i do actually like them, unfortunately WE'RE LISTENING TO 100 SONGS TONIGHT GOODBYE GOOD SONG I WILL KEEP THIS MEMORY WARM IN MY HEART UNTIL THE END OF TIME

10.13.2007

58) "Tattoo," Jordin Sparks

This is a song that just barely missed the lyric video trend. If any song needed to have words appearing on random actors' skin, it was this one, it would have been such a no-brainer decision. Like, you do it right, hire some calligraphers and tell them to take it up a thousand notches, you have a classic lyric video. Wasn't e'er to be, though. Just a standard music video, and I guess a nice song? It's very2007. It's very the sort of song you'd give to the winner of a forgettable Idol season. "Oh, that? Uh, yeah, keep it. It's either going on this album or in that trash can, might as well use every part of the buffalo that is my brain."

80) "The Way I Am," Ingrid Michaelson

this is the sonic version of a scarf worn indoors in june

86) "Our Song," Tay Tay

"Our song is a slammin' screen door." Did you know Tay Tay's dad was an investment banker? I have reason to believe Tay Tay's only seen a screen door in movies. I dunno. Do rich people have screen doors? I've never been in a mansion, but I don't think screen doors would be appropriate for mansions.

91) "Shoulda Let You Go," Keyshia Cole intro./Amina

I like how Billboard gave Amina an "introducing" credit. You don't see that in music nowadays. Now it's just "hey this 17-year-old has a million plays on Soundcloud, what do you mean you 'haven't heard of him,' he's already been responsible for thirteen memes and they're all dead, we're actually over him already, he's lame now." It is now known that Amina was actually a woman who was okay at rapping. The point still stands, I'd at least like to know that the randos on these songs are people no one but the people who made this song know.

96) "Hypnotized," Piles ft./Akon

"I know she wet 'cuz she told me." I don't know why, but this line tickles me! "Piles, you got me so wet." "YO, SHE'S WET! I MADE HER WET, GUYS!" "You touch mine and I touch yours." Piles must be hypnotized because in my (admittedly limited) experience with his work he doesn't seem like a man who gives head. He seems like a man who needs to be coerced into reciprocating pleasure.

97) "Nothin' Better to Do," LeAnn Rimes

OK so real talk, while I was listening to this song I got distracted because I realized I hadn't updated my Poke Bank subscription in like a year and I have so many precious little babies I need to keep forever, and you know what? This is a fun song. I didn't really need to pay attention to it! It's a song about being naughty that keeps it PG enough to play on country radio, and I wouldn't mind bumping into it again!

100) "Fake It," Seether

So Amy Lee and the dude from Seether broke up. After the break-up, Evanescence hit first with "Call Me When You're Sober," which isn't a particularly devastating song, but the title is incredibly unsubtle, and, like, Seether's a shitty post-grunge band, of course he's an alcoholic, and Amy Lee is right to say "yo I'm kinda done with this, I don't like dealing with the drunk you." Seether strikes back by saying Amy Lee is a liar and that he "feels so raped," and Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm gonna go ahead and say that's #problematic! Amy Lee made a dumb but fair song about how she was out of patience, and here comes Donald Trump by way of Creed to say "YOU ARE RAPING ME WITH THIS BREAK-UP." Like, I'm gonna go ahead and say that the part using rape metaphors to describe their feelings is the one in the wrong in this mediation.

10.14.2017

65) "I Fall Apart," by Post Malone 100) "Go Flex," by Post Malone

i could have spent eight minutes sitting perfectly still listening to ambient noise and have had the same emotional reaction. "never caught a feeling this hard/harder than the liquor i pour." oh fuck off already.

70) "Good Old Days," by Macklemore ft./Kesha

FINALLY. The pop music gods have heard my prayers: Macklemore rapping about nostalgia. Everything I love, in one delightful package! ...He shouts out Minnesota and this is probably gonna end up being the best song from this week because of that and also because this week is lookin' pretty horrible.

94) "Losing Sleep," by Chris Young

OK so real talk during this bro country joint I got distracted because I was looking at new music releases and APPARENTLY THERE'S AN ANIMATED MOVIE BASED ON "ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU?" IT WAS MADE THIS YEAR? THIS YEAR. YOU CAN BUY IT ON DVD TODAY AND OWN IT FOR THE REST OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE. I'm sorry. I'm not going to bother processing whatever bullshit this song is about, sex I guess, because THIS WORLD IS CAPABLE OF SO MUCH MORE. This is a movie. This is also a movie which presupposes that this entire time "All I Want for Christmas Is You" is about a puppy that Mariah Carey needed for a... charity fashion show? "Great! We're short one girl with a dog!" "Oh..." This is a cinematic masterpiece and my life is better for having stumbled across it. This and Pokemon Christmas Bash.

95) "Like I Loved You," by Brett Young

So the writer of Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You is one Temple Mathews, who has also written The Little Mermaid II, Peter Pan II, and 101 Dalmatians 2. That is a fucking nuts credit roll, Temple. Dude also goes multiple years between projects, which suggests to me he's like someone at Disney's cousin, and every couple years that person at Disney goes "hey, Temple, wanna make $100,000?" and Temple says "fuck yeah bro" and Temple just lives off that. He makes smart investments and lives in a cabin in Montana and has never actually seen a movie because why would you look at pictures when you've got mountains in your backyard? Temple is living the best life. Dude's my hero. He has someone describe a cartoon to him and writes something based off that and never has to write a second draft.

97) "Round Here Buzz," by Eric Church

Listen, if Eric Church is gonna give us repeats of songs he's done before, at least he's giving us repeats of "Give Me Back My Hometown." It's a slower, sadder version of that song, one that can't be misconstrued as an "I'm poor AND PROUD OF IT!" anthem, this is a song that can only be about a dude thinking about a girl living a life without him while he lives a life with her ghost, but also "Give Me Back My Hometown" is more fun? I dunno, this still prolly gets 2017 SOTY, I've just heard it before. Also, Eric Church? Welcome to the Decade Dance Club. You are the 36th member, and the tenth white male country artist.

98) "Plain Jane," by A$AP Ferg

ok nvm this is song of the week, simply because in the first verse Ferg raised and lowered the volume of his voice. this song went somewhere! this song actually did something! it didn't just bleep and bloop for three minutes or be about how it's nice when things are good, Ferg had things he wanted to say and delivered his lines with actual emotions! he did the bare goddamn minimum, and by 2017 standards, that's pretty good! i'm actually going to remember this song a little bit!

Who won the week?

1997. Like, of course 1997 won. It had Sneaker Pimps and Shania, if 1997 lost to these other wack-ass years it would’ve been stunning.

Standings: 1997: 15 2007: 12 2017: 13 oh god all the songs for the next edition look awful, welp

[e3khatena]

Someone subjected me to it, so I'll return the favor. Do them all, yes?

*horrible but joyous raptor noise*

200: My crush’s name is: The pineapple one.199: I was born in: 1997198: I am really: Confused about things and such.197: My cellphone company is: AT&T and they kind of suck but not too much.196: My eye color is: Usually a bluish-gray, more gray in the winter and more greenish in the spring. Not vividly, still mostly gray.195: My shoe size is: 12.194: My ring size is: I think I have an Ace Ring in 13? So that, I guess.193: My height is: 6′0″-ish.192: I am allergic to: A hecking lot of types of medication.191: My 1st car was: A Hyundai that had it brakes rot out, the lower control arms snapped, and now it doesn’t have power steering. I just got my second car 2 months ago.190: My 1st job was: Alright.189: Last book you read: Legends of Localization: MOTHER 2. Super awesome.188: My bed is: A bed!187: My pet: Icha, a retired police dog. 186: My best friend: Dan. I have not talked to so many of my other friends in so long, I need to get better at that.185: My favorite shampoo is: I dunno, the stuff I use? I don’t study the bottle.184: Xbox or ps3: Wii U, to be completely honest. Hopefully the Switch is awesome.183: Piggy banks are: A typo based on a type of coin bank made of a certain type of clay.182: In my pockets: Actually nothing right now.181: On my calendar: I have class in Chicago tomorrow. :\180: Marriage is: Not something I plan to do.179: Spongebob can: Please get canned already? Fairly Oddparents, too. Actually, that one first.178: My mom: Is a mom.177: The last three songs I bought were? Two songs from the Diablo Swing Orchestra (probably the coolest hecking band ever) preceeded by Ballroom Blitz.176: Last YouTube video watched: A bunch of trash TF2 joke weapon demonstrations.175: How many cousins do you have? I dunno, like three or four immediate cousins?174: Do you have any siblings? An older and a younger brother.173: Are your parents divorced? No.172: Are you taller than your mom? Yes.171: Do you play an instrument? Nope.170: What did you do yesterday? My best.[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: Nope.168: Luck: I got all the bad stuff.167: Fate: If y’had a chance t’chainge yer faet, wood yeh?166: Yourself: What a funny story, Mark!165: Aliens: I mean, somewhere out there. They’re probably, like, bacteria, but I mean whatever.164: Heaven: I like to imagine the afterlife is one giant void where you just wait to come back and you get to see all your past and future lives but forget everything immediately upon being resurrected as a new human.163: Hell: See immediately above.162: God: If you do, that’s cool. 161: Horoscopes: Read six of them. Chances are, more than one fits you well.160: Soul mates: Nope.159: Ghosts: Nope.158: Gay Marriage: I mean, do whatever. If its not immoral and illegal and everyone involved is okay with it, then cool.157: War: It never changes, but I kinda wish it would. Why is it this hard for people to support each other. 156: Orbs: They don’t exist because nobody has ever seen a perfect sphere in real life before.155: Magic: There are people who claim this is real?[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: I dunno?153: Drunk or High: Having a height advantage to your opponents makes it that much harder for them to seek adequate cover and that much easier to defeat them.152: Phone or Online: I hate the call quality in the US.151: Red heads or Black haired: You don’t see that many actual natural gingers out there.150: Blondes or Brunettes: I mean, I’m blond, so there’s some bias.149: Hot or cold: The cold. LA would kill me.148: Summer or winter: Specifically the first month of the winter. Past that its gray and sludgy and horrible.147: Autumn or Spring: Spring.146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate.145: Night or Day: The nighttime makes everything feel forbidden. I shouldn’t be out this late, I shouldn’t be doing this this late, etc.144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges. Citrus is awesome.143: Curly or Straight hair: I dunno.142: McDonalds or Burger King: Burger King has the better chicken nuggets, but both aren’t that great. In this town, its Culvers, Portillo’s, or you eat the DIRT you find in the GROUND.141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Like a 60% dark chocolate. 70% tastes great at first but the aftertaste is horrible, afraid to go darker than that. Heard 100% is the worst.140: Mac or PC: PC, since I make games using software that runs on 139: Flip flops or high heals: Mages with a high heal yield are always welcome in the party.138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: I’ve kind of had it with the rich at this point.137: Coke or Pepsi: Regular coke but Cherry Pepsi. Crystal Pepsi is also back but my life was ruined when I found out its just regular Pepsi with no coloring.136: Hillary or Obama: I would gladly take either of them right now. Barack seems like he’d be a dad friend.135: Burried or cremated: I want to be burned to ashes and thrown from the mountains.134: Singing or Dancing: I dunno.133: Coach or Chanel: Coach was a playable character in L4D2 and thus is infinitely more useful.132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Who the frack are these people.131: Small town or Big city: I’ve kind of had it with the city.130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target. Or, for white people with minimal senses of humor, Targét (Tar-zhey).129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Stiller is meh but never reaches Sandler levels of awful.128: Manicure or Pedicure: [SOUNDS OF LITTLE INTEREST]127: East Coast or West Coast: The East Coast has HP Lovecraft’s home.126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Both seem to end in familial drama.125: Chocolate or Flowers: Chocolate is dang wonderful. Can’t take a handful, eat the tulips. Y’just cahn’t do theat.124: Disney or Six Flags: Six whole flags. Great America has the Viper and its the closest you will ever get to a life-changing moment. 123: Yankees or Red Sox: I am indifferent towards New York or Boston, doubly so concerning Baseball.[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: Like, really guys, talk out your differences and treat people with respect. Its not that hard.121: George Bush: He would have made a brilliant painter or a decent comedian, but for some reason he ended up as president. But now he’s paining portraits of veterans wounded in the wars he started, so there’s that.120: Gay Marriage: Of course.119: The presidential election: 2016 was a terrible year, can we just fast forward to an election where two decent, respectable human beings are being voted for on election day.118: Abortion: Every woman has their reason, and its not the right of men to get to decide what happens.117: MySpace: ‘sead.116: Reality TV: Ech.115: Parents: Its a toxic environment.114: Back stabbers: I get you want that double critical hit, but please don’t stab me. I just want to grab the papers. End TF2 joke.113: Ebay: I dunno?112: Facebook: I had a video of a chick being forced down a grinder suddenly load and go full screen the last time I used the app. Yeah no.111: Work: Cash money.110: My Neighbors: My next door neighbors are absolutely wonderful people. The people past there are pretty bleh.109: Gas Prices:  They’ve been higher, they’ve been lower.108: Designer Clothes: Heck.107: College: I have the presidential scholarship and have taken the maximum out on all possible loans and I cannot afford to live on-campus.106: Sports: Nah.105: My family: I am always feeling much better and more comfortable when spending time at a friend’s house than my own house.104: The future: Kinda losing hope, kinda just wish I had the skills to make great games quick and then just live in peace somewhere nice, kinda want to get struck with construction equipment, etc.[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: I couldn’t tell you, its been, I dunno, a decade or so?102: Last time you ate: 11:something today.101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: Spent some time at a friend’s place Friday. Haven’t gotten to speak with them in such a long time, felt nice.100: Cried in front of someone: I dunno?99: Went to a movie theater: The last film I saw in theaters was Godzilla and I lost interest when Walter White died.98: Took a vacation: Absolutely never! I was in Florida for a few weeks a few years ago (2013, I think?), but it barely counts because half of it was rainy days, Minecraft, and Nostalgia Critic.97: Swam in a pool: Couple years ago?96: Changed a diaper: If this answer becomes anything but never I will have seen too much.95: Got my nails done: Never.94: Went to a wedding: Never.93: Broke a bone: Pretty sure never?92: Got a peircing: Never.91: Broke the law: I once forgot to stop at a stop sign nobody else was at. Take me away, coppers, throw me in the slammer.90: Texted: I think Friday night?[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: Dan.88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: Not having anywhere to be. 87: The last movie I saw: I watched The Adventures of Tintin for like the 9th time. I wonder how that film stands up in black/white. I heard really good stuff about Mad Max: Fury Road in B/W.86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Switch Switch Switch SwiTCH SWITCH SW85: The thing im not looking forward to: The hatred spiraling around the 45th President. Actual Nazis spoke of their goals and were praised on national TV. One of them got punched and is afraid he will become a meme. What the heck is going on. How much Nyquil did I accidentally drink. Is this a dying dream. Please let it be.84: People call me: Really needy and obnoxious. Or that might just be me.83: The most difficult thing to do is: Have one good day. Friday was the first one since probably October.82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Nope, but I did get one because my brakes went out and I hit the bumper of the car in front of me. 81: My zodiac sign is: Gemini, but it really doesn’t make a difference.80: The first person i talked to today was: Dan.79: First time you had a crush: Quite a while ago. It was the orange one and it was alright. Pineapple is the better flavor though.78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: Dan.77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: I dunno.76: Right now I am talking to: A Tumblr text post.75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Design dem vidya gaems. 74: I have/will get a job: I have a job? Its my second one, been there 3 months.73: Tomorrow: I’LL72: Today: Is almost over.71: Next Summer: I’ll be out of school until September again?70: Next Weekend: Will be practically the end of the month? What am I supposed to put do--69: I have these pets: I have one (1) dog.68: The worst sound in the world: I have been woken at 2 in the morning by someone loudly blaring “Now look at this NET!” at me as a joke. 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: I dunno, Speilberg? Because he won’t make thAT TINTIN SEQUEL--66: People that make you happy: Dan and the other ragtag band of friends I have.65: Last time I cried: Like ~a week ago?64: My friends are: @eishkrooked​ @virtifrication-order​ @ahogehope​ and my non-Tungle friends Steve, Byron, Haley and Sam.63: My computer is: More expensive than my first car.62: My School: Costs far too much.61: My Car: Is alright.60: I lose all respect for people who: Justify killing or dehumanizing a lot of people quickly.59: The movie I cried at was: Wreck-It Ralph. Because I am a loser.58: Your hair color is: Blond.57: TV shows you watch: Actually between stuff because everything is over or on hiatus.56: Favorite web site: Steam, I guess?55: Your dream vacation: As many of my friends as possible and we all go to somewhere rad, I dunno where though.54: The worst pain I was ever in was: I once had a coughing fit at 1AM that caused me to spit up some blood and it hurt so bad I collapsed on the floor and cried myself back to sleep. But Death’s gonna have to bare-knuckle box me for my life, he tried to kill me with life-threatening pneumonia twice and that did bugger all. Come at me scrublord, I’m ripped.53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium-well.52: My room is: Barely my room.51: My favorite celebrity is: JK Simmons.50: Where would you like to be: Somewhere nice.49: Do you want children: Not really, no. Maybe adopt some? I dunno.48: Ever been in love: Nope.47: Who’s your best friend: This is like the third time this question has appeared.46: More guy friends or girl friends: More good friends.45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Ever get to steal, like, all the stars in a Chance Time? That power changes you.44: One person that you wish you could see right now: I want to know how Haley is doing. She moved off to Minnesota after graduating high school and has not been online in like have a year. 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: I barely have a five-day plan.42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: I could die at any minute, lists just leave “I could have___”s everywhere.41: Have you pre-named your children: Nope.40: Last person I got mad at: It took Arin 4 hours to make it to the end of Paper Mario: Thousand Year Door’s first major boss. FOUR HOURS.39: I would like to move to: A nice flat somewhere just outside Chicago.38: I wish I was a professional: Game dev because then, again, good things made quick.[ My Favorites ]37: Candy: York Peppermint Patties, also a fan of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.36: Vehicle: Can Tesla just do a cheap electric car already? 35: President: Obama is definitely top of the list. Amazing public speaker, total dad.34: State visited: Illinois.33: Cellphone provider: If only Metronet could do phones.32: Athlete: JK Simmons got ripped, I can include him.31: Actor: See above!30: Actress: Ashly Burch (Ms. Pauling in TF2). 29: Singer: Lynda Carter became a freaking phenominal jazz singer between the 70s and Fallout 4. Probably the best part about that game.28: Band: Diablo Swing Orchestra, hands down.27: Clothing store: The cheapest one I can get good-quality stuff at.26: Grocery store: Jewel? I dunno, don’t hassle me.25: TV show: Gravity Falls deserves all the awards.24: Movie: This might come as a surprise, but the Adventu23: Website: Steam? I dunno.22: Animal: Samoyeds and Malamutes. Japanese Akitas come in third.21: Theme park: Six Flags is pretty rad. 20: Holiday: According to the store I work at, Italian Market is a holiday and now its my favorite holiday.19: Sport to watch: Not a sportwatcher.18: Sport to play: Used to spar. That was rad.17: Magazine: Rest in peace, Nintendo Power.16: Book: Journal 3 is such a fabulous blend of so many good things.15: Day of the week: Monday, actually. I don’t need to commute, my brothers are out of the house, I can record or work on personal projects, etc.14: Beach: Not a fan of beaches.13: Concert attended: Have not attended any live whatsits.12: Thing to cook: Pasta. And then I have it all. Because its pasta.11: Food: Read above.10: Restaurant: It depends. Subway is cheap, Corner Bakery Cafe is right inside Union Station and their Mac and Chee is awesome, but if money is no object, then I’d go for Olive Garden because “endless pasta” are two words that get slung around in there.9: Radio station: I hate the FM radio.8: Yankee candle scent: Fresh-cut lawn.7: Perfume: Nah.6: Flower: I don’t have an answer.5: Color: One of those deep, vivid blues. Something like Tumblr’s but with some more saturation.4: Talk show host: Nah.3: Comedian: SungWon Cho or Barry Kramer.2: Dog breed: 22 has all the answers you need.1: Did you answer all these truthfully?  I could be a jerk and say I answered one of these incorrectly, but nah, they’re legit. Or are they? They are. Or are they?

Thanks!