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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

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Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

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pcprminibigbang · 4 years

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PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to [email protected]! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

#polygon #polygon cyberpunk red #pcpr

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renegad3spectre · 5 years

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Trust Issues

My little fic about a bit of V’s and Jackie’s past. Please don’t kill me because I’m not a good writer and English isn’t my native language. It just would have been too much to draw

The diner was barely lit. Shady place for shady people. Half of the still working lights were flickering and it became exhausting to the eyes to stay at this place for too long; nothing for people with epileptic seizures. The fake leather seats were worn out, partly destroyed and the insides turned outside. Tables were surprisingly clean though the floor was sticky - probably all kinds of dropped meals, spilled drinks and ... vomit. V stared at the ground, frowning while thinking of what might have been the cause to the sticky surface. His chin rested on one hand, while the other held a fork. At the same time he was wondering if he really would have spent enough time in Night City to be able to eat in such a place. Despite the food being surprisingly tasty. A foot kicked his and he came back to the here and now, turning his head and looking at the bulky man sitting in front of him. "Were you listening, V?" The voice was deep with spanish accent. V still couldn't figure out where exactly the man had his roots. He hadn't been thinking about it much either. The guy seemed nice. Though that wasn't really clear. V had made his experiences with a lot of people. Most of them seemed nice at the beginning. Most of them he used to like, sometimes even cared about. But in the end they all had turned out assholes. There was a time where V considered himself unable to keep up a relationship. Not even romatically - he still would have to fall in love the first time and he was 23. Then there was a time, where he stopped to interact with other human beings. The only way he got in touch with them, was getting himself into trouble, stealing. Sometimes they caught him and they punished him badly.

Until a few weeks ago, where it had been a bunch of young men. He stole some of their money, hungry as fuck. But they also got him and in the middle of their fists raining down on them, this bulky man showed up. He knocked out two of them and the rest ran.

Suddenly two fingers clicked in front of his eyes, mixed with a short whistle. "Earth to V. Hello?" V blinked and cleared his throat. "What?" The bulky guy sighed. V couldn't hear annoyance though. He was surprised with the man's patience. "I assume you didn't listen. Where are you, V?" The young man dropped his eyes to his plate, poking the potatoes with his fork. "I was just... never mind." Lifting the fork and burying a piece of potato in his mouth, he kept his gaze low. The bulky guy sighed again. "Talk to me, V. I need you focused on the mission's details. What's bothering you?" Right. The mission.

Again V was in the past, as this huge guy offered his hand. V barely grabbed it until he was pulled up back on his feet. "They got you pretty bad, huh?" V wiped some dirt and blood from the corner of his mouth. "Guess I'm used to this." There was a short silence. "What did you do, they got this angry at you?" Again silence. Until V opened his hand and revealed a wallet. A short chuckle followed. "In need of money?" "No." V looked up. "I just have a weird fetish of stealing things from people so they have a reason to beat me up." The huge guy lifted a brow. "And get rescued by a guy like me?" "Exactly. I also love a big dick." Which was just exaggerated. V wasn't really into other guys. Though he wasn't sure if he was into women either. He had made his experinces with women and he had his fun and but it's been more of a longing for bodycontact than anything else. He'd been too busy with survival than he could focus on a girl by his side. "Where do you live?" V opened his arms and turned a bit to the left and to the right. The guy understood. He didn't react though. "Perhaps I could help you getting some money, kid." "Want to protect me after I stole?" The guy shook his head. "No. With work actually." V took a moment to answer. He tried to read the guy's mind, scanning his expression and realising the wires in the man's face. That kind of business? "What's your name, kid?" "... V." "V? ... well, V. I'm Jackie. So. What do you say? You want to earn some money or not?" And V had a hard time trusting Jackie, but in the end he made enough money. The first thing he bought wasn't exactly what Jackie had in mind though. As he showed up in the SAMURAI jacket, Jackie actually slapped the back of his head, actually parenting him, saying he was supposed to find a place to stay. After the next job V then found a small flat, one room, ready furnished.

This time the hand slapped the table. V twitched and looked at Jackie again. "Where. The Fuck. Are you?" V couldn't deny that he was intimidated. He mumbled an apology. "I just... haven't shared a meal with someone in a while..." Jackie studied his young companion. He knew that V still was careful, but to Jackie himself, it was clear that he wanted to spent time with V, also outside missions. He was a cool guy - honest. Jackie appreciated that a lot because it's been so rare ever since. "What is that supposed to mean?" But V shook his head. "Let's focus on the mission." Jackie didn't know much about the kid's past. All that V's ever told him was that he had been betrayed a lot. Jackie could have told him that he wasn't about to abuse V in any way but Jackie was sure, that the kid wouldn't have blieved it. Not yet. So again he explained the mission's details. The thing was bigger and set for the day after tomorrow. "Well. So we meet at the club tomorrow? Something about 8pm?" V shook his head confused. "What for?" "You'll see."

It was almost 8 the evening after. V knew he was actually late, though Jackie said 'something about 8pm' - not at 8pm. He didn't want to be late though. For some reason he was afraid of disappointing Jackie. He couldn't explain the feeling further, simply because he wasn't used to socialise anymore. Ripped out hard of his thoughts, he crushed into someone. Landing on his butt he rubbed his nose and looked up. The frame in front of him turned out to be one of those cyberpunks. V could see some sort of metal plates on the side of the guys head, perfectly shown by the shaved head, topped by a green and blue mohawk. The guy didn't look creepy, but dangerous - perhaps also a junkie. "What the fuck was tha-?" The guy stopped in the middle of his sentence. And before V could react, a foot hit his head. With a groan he went completely down held his head with both hands. ".. what is y-?!" Another kick - his stomach this time. His head was hurting, as was his stomach. V couldn't open his left eye completely, he tasted blood on his tongue and as he sniffed, more blood followed. The punk held onto his throat, didn't really choke him though. "Hey.. don't pass out on me!" the guy yelled when a stinging, burning pain suddnely ran from his right leg through his whole body. The guy just stabbed his thigh - luring out a scream into the night. "Thehe.." The punk dropped his victim. V's vision blurred but he was sure the guy on top of him just pulled a gun. With a shaking hand he embraced the knife in his leg, rested his back on whatever was behind him - by the smell of it, it was some kind of trash container. His head fell back and he looked right into the gun. "You little bitch... we both know no one's gonna miss you..." V heard a clicking sound. "Say your last prayers." A thin smile covered the punk's face. "First thing I'm gonna do will be taking that fancy jacket of yours." The young man shortly closed his eyes. So that was it? That was the end? But that punk's been right; there wasn't really anyone going to miss him. From a certain, not so long ago, moment, V started to hope, Jackie would have cared. He wanted Jackie to be his friend. He hoped for Jackie to be his friend, because he wanted to trust Jackie. He wanted to finally be important to someone. His thoughts got interrupted but a strange sound. As he opened his eyes the punk's body just dropped in front of him. V's eyes were full of surprise and Jackie stepped out of the shadows. "You okay, ese?" Jackie cracked his knuckles and wiped the back of his hand clean. V wiped over one eye. He had no idea what that word meant though. He just breathed Jackie's name, still not believing what he saw, as Jackie sat beside him and checked on him. "Seems like I just made it in time. I got a little worried when you didn't show up at the club." He worried? Jackie worried about him? Why? Sure, they had been business partners and V liked to imagine they made a good team, but a guy like Jackie surely had easy play finding someone new for a job. So.. could it be Jackie actually worried about V as a person? As ... his friend? V didn't realise Jackie inspecting the wounds, commenting the knife still sticking in his leg. He was in shock - the beating wasn't new, one step in the tomb wasn't new either. Hearing someone say they were worried about V - that was new. His whole body was trembling, covered in goosebumps. Unconsciously he leant on Jackie, grabbed the bulky man's jacket and pressed his face into the leather. A mix of leather and a strong men's scent ran through his nose. Jackie was clueless for a moment though. He looked at the kid in front of him, suddenly felt the kid's hands clinging on his jacket. The grip was so strong, the already pale hands' knuckles turned white. Jackie could hear a sob, followed by a scream, choked by another sob. With a shaking voice he cried out Jackie's name. A lot of tears ran down his nose and cheeks. Jackie was a tough guy, sure, but he still had a heart as big as every other muscle in his body. Gently he embraced the kid, covered the back of V's head with one hand and caressed the short hair. "Let's get you patched up, pack up some comfortable clothes... You'll stay at my place tonight." His voice was gentle as ever, when he talked to V. He knew the kid had to be handled carefully if he wanted him to trust. He had seen a lot of suffering in Night City but It's been the first time one of these thousands of fates actually touched him. V had so much potential. He was smart, honest, skilled, a fast learner. Jackie was far from being a social worker but he decided to take V under his wing.

It was around 2am, when the door opened and closed shortly after. "Jackie. I bought the lingerie you saw the other day." A sweet women's voice flew through the apartment. But there was no answer. "Jackie?" Misty, covered in her cute J-style, searched for Jackie, eventually found him in the living room, on the couch. He wasn't alone though and asleep. "Oh." The sight of Jackie holding that kid he talked about a lot lately, put a smile on Misty's face. She had a feeling that was supposed to happen sooner or later. Misty stepped closer and grabbed a blanket from a chair, covered V's legs and parts of his back. As she stepped closer, she saw several patches on the blonde's face. He had dark shadows under his eyes and he looked exhausted even in his sleep. She stepped away from him, behind the couch and caressed Jackie's forhead with both hands, stroking his hair back, kissing the skin. With a twitch, blowing the air out of his nose, Jackie woke up, didn't open his eyes though. "Shh... It's just me, babe." Jackie leaned back further, almost automatically grabbing V and pulling him on his chest. The kid groaned, didn't wake up though. Misty had put a pillow under Jackie's head, waited for the man to have found his final position and started to massage his face along the wires. "I guess I will prepare breakfast for three tomorrow." Jackie could hear a smile in her sweet voice. Her hands covered his eyes, thumbs massaging his forehead and eyebrows. "You're so clenched... I'll take care of you tomorrow." She bend over, kissed his lips goodnight. Jackie would talk to her about V later. Because she took care of him so well, he was able to take care of V.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk v #v and jackie #jackie welles #misty #jackie/misty #friendship #hurt/comfort

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kcwcommentary · 5 years

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VLD6x03 – “Monsters & Mana”

6x03 – “Monsters & Mana”

I love this episode.

This show has done several non-standard episodes, and they are at the bottom of the list of episodes for me. This one is the exception. This is my favorite episode since season two ended (though I do like 3x05 “The Journey”).

The episode is basically the Paladins sitting around playing Dungeons & Dragons, and it’s great. When I first watched this episode, it was part of my big marathon of seasons 3 through 7, and I had no idea this episode existed. When it first started, I instantly thought it seemed like D&D, so the more I realized that it was, the more excited I got about the episode.

We start with a monster pursuing Pidge and Hunk’s characters. Pidge’s character is geared up in heavy armor, and Hunk’s character seems to be a wizard, what with his casting a lightning bolt spell. That spell does next to nothing, and as they run away, Hunk’s character says that he’s “a healer, not a fighter,” so then how did he get access to a lightning bolt spell. I mean, he looks enough like a cleric that I thought he was one, but the lightning bolt spell made me think I must be wrong and he had to be a wizard. It doesn’t really matter.

The ogre (looked like an orc to me, but they eventually call it an ogre) continues to chase them, and he has an ocarina that he uses to make Hunk fall asleep. Pidge is immune to sleep because she’s playing a dwarf character (of course Pidge’s character would be immune to negative things). She uses a jump attack to smash the ocarina with her axe, giving Hunk a chance to cast some binding spell on the ogre. Pidge whacks the ogre sideways with her axe (can’t show a big giant wound like an axe would cause), and they defeat him. In a bit of cross-genre RPG content, the ogre poofs into a floating crystal more reminiscent of monster deaths in video games.

The crystal is one that neither Pidge nor Hunk have seen the likes of before, and Pidge proposes taking it to an innkeeper who for some reason she assumes will know more about it than the two of them do. I know the episode is setting up the innkeeper being the villain, and I know this episode can be looser with logic given its non-standard style of story, but that is an unexplained jump in logic for Pidge to make. Apparently, Hunk’s character’s village was turned to stone, so that’s his quest, to un-petrify them. Hunk’s character, anxious about travelling to wherever they’re going, says of his village, “I mean, they’re not really going anywhere.” That made me laugh.

They arrive at the inn, but apparently have no money for food. The animation changes to have a 16-bit RPG style as Pidge smashes some pots looking for coins. I have smashed a lot of pots in video games in my life, so I love that moment. They take the coin and Pidge orders a “greasy meat pile,” which the Coran-innkeeper calls a “health plate.” It kind of makes me go eew hearing Pidge specifically order it “greasy.”

Coran’s innkeeper NPC is something. Seriously tall, like giant-level height, super muscular, but hair that seems like more of a feminine style, but ever still Coran’s mustache. The innkeeper says the crystal is the type some evil wizard named Dakin uses. He’s, of course, located inside a dungeon.

As the innkeeper tells Pidge and Hunk where that dungeon is located (mirroring Lotor telling the group about both Oriande and the rift between realities, wherein they fight at the end of the season), Shiro’s character in a shadowy corner of the inn speaks up. I super love Shiro’s character. He’s a paladin! It’s really sad though knowing that the EPs thought they were mocking Shiro himself by having his character be a paladin concerned with protecting and helping people. It’s kind of infuriating that the EPs think there’s something wrong with a person just being a good person like Shiro is.

Anyway, Pidge and Hunk go over to talk to Shiro. Hunk says his character is named Block, and that he’s a sorcerer. I’m kind of confused now. Not that this episode is adhering to an actual game system, but with Block having earlier said that he was “a healer, not a fighter,” his being a sorcerer doesn’t feel right. Being a sorcerer matches the spells he’s cast though, so it was that particular “healer” line of dialog that is the dissonant element. Pidge’s character is named Meklavar, a fighter.

I love Shiro’s character wearing a shiny crown/horn in place of his white floof of hair. He gives the backstory of his character. He was chosen to be a paladin at a young age. He was raised in a monastery, but one day a leviathan-demon attacked, destroying the monastery, and killing his master. (He was educated at the Galaxy Garrison, and one day a Galra ship attacked, setting of his quest.) The master’s last words and immediate death is making fun of the cliché of so many stories having of a character dying as they say something important, and I laughed. And then the master is still alive just long enough to speak again and die again. And Shiro, recounting the tale while sitting in the inn, cries a big, long tear. The moment definitely plays with some tropes.

Hunk and Pidge’s characters get up and walk out of the inn. (Granted, they’re playing characters in a game, but it reflects their non-game character that they walk away from someone they’re supposedly friends with. Any decent friends playing a game together like this want their friends to feel included in the game, but that’s not their behavior here.) The sound of Shiro’s voice panicking, saying, “Where are you guys going?” as Block and Meklavar leave really gets to me.

Then Block says, “Man, that guy was so boring.” This is the voice of Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery talking about Shiro, not just Block talking about Shiro’s character in the game. This infuriates me. This is textual proof to go along with what they’ve said in interviews about how this episode is supposed to be mocking Shiro. JDS and LM always thought Shiro was boring. That’s why they resented being told they couldn’t kill off Shiro. One, if a character is boring, as head of the creative team, it’s your fault that that character is boring. Two, Shiro was never boring. That they think of him as boring tells us about how JDS and LM think about people. They think that someone who wants to serve and protect aren’t good people, that there’s something wrong with them being that way, and that they think no one could find value in a character who displays those qualities.

Shiro’s character refuses to stay behind and runs to join Block and Meklavar. Then a giant mouse attacks, eating Shiro. Cut to the table that Coran, Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge are playing at. One of the mice is chewing on Shiro’s character miniature. Shiro is mildly incredulous that Coran is declaring his character dead in the game just because the mouse jumped on the table.

Coran says, “Don’t worry, you can just make a new character.” There is a differential in people who play RPGs demonstrated here: Some players really don’t care about characters. As some people far more clever than I am have said, they’re the kind of players who roll play, not role play. Player characters for this style of player are little more than the numbers on the character sheet. For others of us, the character is a lot more than what’s printed on that sheet. We invest ourselves emotionally in our characters, think about their backstory, and can’t just discard them so easily when they die in game.

Shiro takes his mini and puts it back on the table, saying, “I’m going to be a paladin again.” Yes!

Coran says, “Come on now, do you really want to play a paladin?” and then lists a bunch of other classes.

Shiro counters, “I don’t know what’s more fulfilling than being a paladin.” I love it!

And Coran is animated angry and yells, “But you’re already a Paladin in real life!” Coran then growls. I’m sorry, but no. Coran getting angry here is unjustifiable. Why does it bother him if Shiro wants to play as a paladin in the game? (Because it bothers the show’s EPs and writers that they have to include Shiro as a Paladin in the show. The EPs wanted to get rid of Shiro so that they could have Keith as the Black Paladin, and so they’ve written their anger at not being able to into Coran’s dialog. Of course, they were eventually able to talk their way into completely sidelining Shiro in seasons 7 and 8 in order to get what they wanted in having Keith be Black Paladin.)

Also, this is technically the clone playing the game here, not the actual Shiro. The show eventually blatantly proclaims the clone to be an “evil thing.” But here we see the clone and subtextually here he’s telling us how much being a Paladin means to him. Here the clone is showing us through that subtext that he is not evil. He, as much as the real Shiro, cares about helping people, about serving and protecting. We saw that in 4x01 “Code of Honor” when he begged the Black Lion to let him help the other Paladins. But again, the EPs think that this makes a person “boring.”

Allura and Lance enter the room and see them playing. Allura is interested in joining them, though Lance is skeptical since it involves a book. He also freaks out over the idea of a d20. Lance asks if they don’t all have something more important to do (ignoring the fact that he himself isn’t doing anything important right now). Pidge and Hunk are waiting on diagnostic to run on some system of the Castle Ship.

Shiro responds, “And I’m trying to take a mental break. We’ve been going really hard lately.” Awe!! Let Shiro have some fun! (Especially since the show almost never writes him to have any moments like this.)

Lance is more interested in playing once he hears that Allura wants to play. Sigh.

We return to their game. Block, Meklavar, and Shiro’s character are walking through the woods. Allura’s character, an elven mystical archer, joins them. Lance is a cat-eared thief named Pike, which he says is not a thief but a ninja-assassin. He poofs around with smoke bombs, and loudly yells about his character “lurking in the shadows, silently watching!” The effect of having him yell so loudly about being silent is funny. And then they see him stealing money from a pouch. So yeah, thief.

Allura’s character summons a flying mount that they all then ride on to the dungeon.

I love Block asking, “Did anyone remember to bring torches.” Needing to see in dark environments is something RPG players are kind of notorious for forgetting, so Block’s comment is so very meta.

Shiro then says, “I really think my character would have remembered to bring a torch.” I do agree with him, and a good dungeon master, game master, or as Coran’s calling himself in this episode lore master wouldn’t be so strict as Coran is here. It reads more like Coran is again voicing the EPs’ dislike of Shiro. Allura realizes her character an make an arrow glow, so they have light.

They come to a dead-end in the dungeon. Lance says, “Maybe you just have to knock,” knocks on the wall, and they door is revealed. It totally references back to 1x01 “The New Alliance” where he gained access to the Blue Lion by knocking on its forcefield. So of course, I’m now thinking of how Blue valued Lance so much that she let him in just because he knocked, and then by moving Lance from Blue to Red, that bond he’s had with Blue from the beginning was senselessly taken from him.

The episode then goes meta again by having Lance’s character, as the thief, have to check for traps on the door. My experience suggests that the presence and use of traps in D&D is such that players rarely speak about the process in any in-character terms, only in terms of game mechanics. The way the dialog is written here totally matches that real way checking for traps is usually handled in games. So, Lance rolls low, the trap is triggered, and everyone plunges down a shaft/highly sloping tunnel. Once they fall out into the open, Block casts a spell that gives everyone a flying chicken to hold on to so that they don’t fall. The chickens are funny.

Then, there’s a montage of the group fighting various monsters, until they come upon a giant pile of gold and treasure. Allura gets a “quick draw quiver with a magical creature-summoning arrow.” Pidge gets “goves of transmutation,” the description of which kind of makes me think of Allura’s alchemy. Lance gets an invisibility cloak. Hunk gets a bowl of endless food because of course he does. (Sigh.) And Shiro gets a “blazing sword.” This makes me think of Voltron’s sword’s flaming version, and then I again think of how this show takes being the Black Paladin away from Shiro. As soon as his character lifts the sword, he’s super excited, and then he gets hit by black and red lightning and dies screaming, his hair-floof crown and the sword being the only things left behind. And how do the others’ characters react? Pidge says, “Ooo, he dropped a rare item.” They don’t care about Shiro.

The innkeeper is the villain. A silly, simplistic twist like this is okay since they’re playing a game here, but it does reflect on what the show is doing with Lotor. Like the innkeeper, he was brought in as an ally to the Paladins, providing them with information about where to go and what to do, and then, out of nowhere really, he’s suddenly not a good person but a villain. It’s a process that’s fine when they’re all sitting around here playing a game, but the main show itself needed to do way better than this.

Shiro’s new character arrives, teleporting into the dungeon. Shiro’s twin brother Jiro, “here to complete Shiro’s quest.” It has to be a meta reference to the clone story. And still, his new character, like the clone, is a good person, trying to help and protect people. Pidge responds, “A paladin again?” with a lot of derision, so this is more of the EPs’ dislike of Shiro being written into the meta-dialog of the characters. It doesn’t hurt anybody for Shiro to play whatever character he wants, so how about you shut up, Pidge.

Dakin talks about Block’s petrified village, saying, “I’ve already siphoned off their life force.” Clearly, this is a cryptic foreshadowing of Lotor’s colony and the Alteans there being the source of the unexpected quintessence. It almost feels like this is the show semi-consciously recognizing that how the rest of the season writes Lotor is super underdeveloped and shallow. Either the writers know they wrote Lotor’s end badly and just didn’t have the writing skills to do better or weren’t allowed by the EPs or something, or they actually think they’ve written Lotor well and are just mirroring it here, unaware that this reveals how shallow they wrote Lotor’s end.

Dakin blasts Jiro with flame, and his shield even generates some glowing forcefield-like energy to help deflect the blast. I love shields as tools and symbols, so I love that his character has one.

The episode changes animation style again to look like that of a video game while Allura’s character shoots enemies with arrows. The party takes damage, and Allura uses a “healing arrow,” complete with yelling the name of the ability as she does so – that’s meta. There is something odd, in a funny way, of shooting someone causing them to be healed.

Jiro then vows to avenge his twin. I wish with this show had Shiro care about the clone after it falls as much as Jiro cares about Shiro. If the EPs thought Shiro was a boring character, then how about writing him to want vengeance against Haggar for what she’s done to him and to all the clones the same way Jiro wants revenge here? It would have been a plot that would have let the show wrestle with the implications and significance of the clone story instead of just instantly forgetting any of it ever happened.

The shot from behind of Jiro running toward Dakin… yeah, that’s nice.

They keep fighting, Block casting “embiggen” on Meklavar, who grows giant and axes Dakin.

Jiro speaks, but with Shiro-the-player’s comments, “This game is so amazing. It requires problem-solving, teamwork, creativity. All the skills you want to imbue when doing team-building exercises.” I love Shiro going a little nerdy in the moment. I love seeing and hearing! him be excited about something. He’s clearly having fun. And it also reflects his character as a leader that he sees the game through that lens of leadership and teamwork. But remember, this guy is supposed to be an “evil thing.” Grr.

And Lance then yells at him, “Stop trying to ruin our fun with learning!” Stop trying to ruin Shiro’s fun, Lance. This show lets Shiro have such little fun as it is!

Surprise, Dakin isn’t dead. With the show using Dakin to foreshadow and mirror Lotor, his not being dead here could be read as further foreshadowing, a hint to the viewer that Lotor’s story isn’t over just because he dies at the end of the season. But it’s not.

Dakin is now a dragon. Block is hurt, and Allura shoots another healing arrow. Pidge gets smashed by a dragon tail. Shiro tries to draw the dragon’s attacks away from the rest of the characters, just like a tank character like the paladin class usually does in RPGs. Hunk realizes they need a plan, so he casts a “secret” spell, and the players huddle away from Coran to devise that plan.

Pike distracts the dragon with his quick speed and cloak of invisibility. Block throws out some food from his endless bowl. Meklavar transmutes the food into oil with her gloves. Allura summons what looks like a hippocampus, a creature from Greek mythology with a horse-like body, fish-like tail, and wings. Jiro mounts it, lights his sword on fire, and sets the oil on fire. The fire destroys the dragon.

Victory.

Pidge and Hunk have a breakthrough on what they’re working on on the Castle Ship. Lance reacts, saying, “Somehow I understand the fantasy words better than the science ones.” Is that the writers telling us that they know they don’t understand the science they try to write into this show?

Shiro says, “I can’t get over how great that game was!” It’s so nice. This man deserves to have fun!

Allura comments about how the fun of playing has made the time go by quickly, and Lance, of course, responds out of his attraction to Allura, “We have pretty good time together, don’t we?” She says, “We sure do,” and this feels like it’s setting up the idea that the problem is Allura just hasn’t realized the right guy for her (Lance) has been there all along, and that she’s wrong for having not been interested in him before. I really do not like this trope of romantic storytelling (and the ignorance it demonstrates some men to have about women).

Lotor contacts Allura to tell her the ship is ready to begin testing. Lance is instantly dejected, but I guess at least this jealous reaction isn’t one of anger and arrogance. Coran offers another round of playing, and Lance says sure.

Shiro says, “I want to be a paladin again.” So much meta on this line. It reflects how being a Paladin is so fundamental to Shiro’s character arc, and it makes that the show takes being a Paladin away from him infuriating. It also again reflects the goodness of the clone, and it makes the show declaring the clone to be an “evil thing” infuriating. And of course, Lance and Coran react like Shiro’s wanting to be a paladin (and thus the show/EPs/writers thinking Shiro being a Paladin) is somehow weird.

It amazes me that the EPs thought this episode would get viewers on their side in thinking Shiro was boring. And if I understand the broader audience reaction to this episode, that backfired on the EPs, as this episode just further reinforced for viewers why they like Shiro so much. At the least, it did so for me.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld season 6 #vld 6x03 #commentary

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thealphabetmurders · 6 years

Note

If you still want a prompt maybe human analogical coffee shop au?

Hello, @potater420, thank you so much for your prompt, I really appreciate you sending one in.

I want to preface this with everyday I want to fucking die, so incredibly badly. For multiple reasons, but one of them being I am bad at being a writer. Mainly, because of the fact that I cannot do anything short. Coffee Shop AU’s are a fairly simple prompt, so I thought to myself “easy, I have got this under control”. Nevertheless, I messed it up and now it is a 10k+ word monster. I am appalled with myself. So, once again, I am breaking up what was supposed to be a short one-shot into a multi chaptered fic. I hate myself.

Virgil is a barista who has been working at Humes’s Coffeehouse and also a regular smoker who has been doing so for 8 years. He meets Logan, an attractive (soon to be) Doctor of Addiction Psychiatry, who implores him to stop smoking in the most fanfiction way possible. Please enjoy.

(Read on AO3)

Everyone had their vices nowadays. Information and ideas are conveyed too fast and quickly for anyone to stay sane without a little outside help. There are healthier coping mechanisms than others, some more effective than not, and Virgil has tried pretty much them all, and he has more shit to deal with than most. So whilst many found solace in sex, Smirnoff, and santa marta, Virgil was still smoking in 2019.

It was not his fault. He began smoking when he was 14 when it was 2012 and still semi cool. If he could turn back time and refuse that first cigarette from someone who’s name escapes him now, he would, but for now he has to indulge to keep himself sane.

He used to smoke a lot more, at least a pack and a half a day. Now, on a bad day, he smokes 15 cigarettes; on a good day, he is down to 8; an average day has Virgil fall somewhere between 10 and 12.

It is never enjoyable to stand outside, by yourself, and just smoke, but without the nicotine, he get extremely jittery, anxious, and irritated. The weather doesn’t let up for anyone slowly destroying their body, but it does allow him to have extra breaks from work. Not that he particularly minds working at Hume’s Coffeehouse. The owner is good and his day manager, Roman, can be bothersome, but is good company. And it is just a short walk to his flat with his roommate Patton. Yet, there were still days when customers were just… So dumb. Such unbridled, unfiltered, idiocy.

So, that is why Virgil is standing out front for his second time that hour, slowly milking his Marlboro Lite outside the doors to the shop. Normally, he has to smoke out back on the patio, but there were guests outside and Roman did not want them to be disturbed. So, he told him to zip up his hoodie over his uniform (as to not give the company a ‘bad image’) and to go smoke out front.

It was a warm day in April, warmer than Virgil’s liking for having a hoodie on, the sun shining on his right arm, holding the lit cigarette in his left hand. Virgil kicked a few pieces of concrete across the wide, jagged sidewalk as he took a deep breath in the afternoon air. It was a few minutes past 4 o’clock, Virgil thankful that he gets to leave in less than an hour and go work on a graphic design project for school. The rush had died down exponentially, no one had come in the building for the past 10 minutes. A white car pulled up to the front spot in the parking lot, and Virgil internally groaned and took another drag of his cigarette, knowing that if someone was coming in, he would have to go back inside to help (seeing as it was just Virgil and Roman there).

The car door opened, and a young man who appeared to be a tad older than Virgil himself exited and slammed the door closed with his foot, carrying a laptop on his hip, a satchel under his arm, a binder in his left arm (that looked about 5 inches wide), whilst texting on his cellphone with his left hand. Virgil had seen all types of university kids come into their quaint little shop in his time working there, but he had never seen one try to multitask before even getting in the building. This one, in fact, seemed even less aware of his surroundings than most.

He walked a few paces across the pavement (never looking up from his phone) until he made his way to the sidewalk. The jagged, uneven sidewalk that one in every three people trip over because of a particularly nasty snag on the pavement.

“Dude, hey!” Virgil called out, trying to get the young man’s attention, “Watch out, you’re gonna-” The man looked at Virgil over his glasses, his eyes filled with hurry and confusion, until his black converse caught onto that crack in the sidewalk, and he came crashing down.

Virgil doesn’t think he has ever cringed more on behalf of another person before; but watching a cellphone with no case an a Macbook fly through the air as papers from the thickest binder any man has ever seen fluttered on top of the sidewalk, like sprinkles on the worst sundae ever, made for a spectacle like no other.

“Holy shit, man!” Virgil yelled, throwing his cigarette to the ground and quickly stomping it out before running to the aid of the other. “Are you okay?”

The other man groaned and picked himself back onto his knees. His once professional demeanor was quickly ruined by the his now disheveled black hair and the scrapes on his cheek.

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” The bespectacled spectacle looked down at the long sleeved sweater he was previously wearing, now sporting a hole in the elbow, which was bleed as well, clashing with the navy blue color he had on.

“You got fucked up,” Virgil said, tapping his fingers rapidly on his thigh. He moved down to his knees and began gathering the papers before they began to blow away, “Let me help you gather all this up. You seemed stressed enough,”

The man chuckled, running his hands through his hair, attempting to tame it once more, “I suppose I am more stressed than was I was previously aware of,” He leaned to his left to grab his phone and inspected it for a few moments, fiddling with the buttons before smirking, “No cracks,”

Virgil scoffed, “You are so jammy, my phone would be dust if that happened, and I have an Otterbox,”

He shrugged in response, “It is because I have an Android,”

The Macbook, however, did not fare so well. He opened it, adjusting his glasses, and cringed. Virgil moved behind him and couldn’t help but suck in a breath at seeing the laptop ink inside the machine spill and move around the cracked areas.

“Yea, that thing is toast,”

He just shook his head, “Nonsense. I just have to get the screen replaced. I have the 2 year warranty after all. I just will not be as productive when I start working,” He closed the laptop and put it in his messenger bag as Virgil ogled at him.

“After what just happened, you are still going to do work? I don’t think I would work for a week if that shit just happened to me. I would take that as a sign from the universe to take a break,”

The other just scoffed at that, pushing his glasses further on his face. “I have not taken a break in 24 years, one broken Macbook is not going to change that streak for me,” He smirked at the other, but then contorted his face up, wincing slightly and touched the wound still present on his cheek. “Do you think that you could help me and gather the rest of my papers? You do not have to of course, but since you are already helping. I would like to run to my car and get some medical supplies to treat my wounds.”

“Yes, yes, of course,”

The man smiled at him gratefully and slowly jogged back to his car. Virgil began gather the papers that were littered with chemistry and medical notations that he had no clue about. He picked up a page full or writing, presumably the center of an essay and looked at the corner which read ‘Arias 3’.

The man, Arias, came back with a small first aid bag slung over his shoulder just as Virgil finished putting all of the papers back in the binder. He picked up the binder and the satchel but did not hand them to Arias quite yet.

“I will bring these in for you, I do not want you tripping and falling again,” Virgil explained, and Arias groaned in feign vexation, a smile ghosting his lips, “Do you need any help with your wounds or anything?”

Arias shook his head as they made their way into the shop, Virgil holding the door for them, “I am in my second to last year of my medical school program, I believe I can handle a few cuts and bruises,” He set down his bag on a table and Virgil followed suit with the rest of his items, “But I sincerely appreciate the offer,”

Virgil bowed a little which made the other chuckle slightly. He looked behind him at the counter to see Roman standing there, staring at him with his hands on his hips. He shakes his head and taps his wrist and Virgil rolled his eyes, “I should get back to work, my manager is going to yell at me soon,”

Arias’ eyebrows raised slightly, “You work here? Did you just begin?”

“No, I have been here for about 7 months now,”

He frowned in response, “I frequent this location often, why have I never seen you,”

Virgil shrugged, “I normally leave at 5 o’clock, so what time-”

“Ah,” Arias pointed a finger at him, “That must be it. I come in here at around 6 o’clock most weekdays. I am familiar with some of the staff… Including Roman,” He gestured his hand a little past Virgil, who turned around to see his manager walking towards them, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hello again, Logan. I see you have become acquainted with Virgil now,” Roman grinned and placed an arm around Virgil shoulders, sighing a bit with relief to finally know the other man’s name.

Arias- Logan, must have had the same line of thinking, “We haven’t had a proper introduction, but, I suppose now his a good time.” He held out his hand to Virgil, “I am Logan Arias,”

Virgil took his hand, “Virgil Kosa,” The shook for a moment, Logan’s grip was professional and firm and then they parted.

Logan directed his attention to Roman, “Yes, Virgil here helped me after I tripped and fell over that dreaded sidewalk,”

Roman groaned, “That sidewalk is the bane of my existence. It is now evident that you lost that fight with the sidewalk,” Roman loosely pointed to the wounds on Logan’s face, which prompted him to pull out the bandages, rubbing alcohol, and cotton rounds from his bag.

“I also lost my Macbook in the process. It succumbed to the harsh concrete, but I have the warranty for it. Thankfully Virgil here was there to help me gather my items that were lost from my fall.” He smiled softly at the dark cladded man, “I am quite grateful,”

Roman gave a hearty laugh, “Well, it is good that I let you go on that smoking break then,”

Virgil smirked, “I guess today smoking is going to save lives,”

Logan’s face contorted, but before he could say anything the chime went off in the store and they saw two people standing at the counter. They bid their short farewell to Logan and made their way around the back of the counter.

They had a mini rush, an influx of students from their college town came in, ordering everything from black coffee to frivolous frappuccinos. Roman took orders while Virgil blended, shook, and spun the orders ‘round. He didn’t mind the work. It was mindless and it allowed his thoughts to drift a bit. He thought about Logan a bit more, his eyes trailing to the black haired man who was studying diligently, flipped through flashcards faster than Virgil could probably read them. Logan adjusted his glasses and Virgil smiled, taking in his sharp features and intelligent sense of dress. He noticed the blue bandage he had on his cheek and the medical bag was on the chair opposite to him. Virgil stared longer than he should have and Logan turned to him, catching his eye. He waved curtly at Virgil, grey eyes flashing with bemusement and he flushed in response, opting for a two fingered salute towards Logan, hoping he didn’t notice his blush.

The rush eventually died down and Virgil was wiping down the machines when Roman came up behind him, straws in hand. He grinned down at Virgil as he stocked the dry goods, the other attempting to ignore the chuckles and giggles coming from the taller man. Eventually, Virgil turned to raise an eyebrow at Roman, who was filling the creamer with a cheeky expression.

“Can I ask you a question, V?”

Virgil nodded, prompting the other to continue.

“So, you’re gay, cachai?” Roman purred, the rhyme flowing effortlessly off his tongue.

Virgil made a smacking noise with his mouth and shook his head, wiping down a counter area that was already clean, “You can’t ask me that, Roman,”

He rolled his eyes, “But I am correct, yes?”

Virgil groaned, “Yes, you are. Is this relevant?”

Roman danced in placed, spilling droplets of creamer on the ground, “I want to set you up with Logan,”

Virgil groaned, “No, I do not want to be set up with anyone. I barely know him,”

“You kept giving him eyes on the line, I was watching,”

“He is cute, yes, but that whole med student thing does not exactly appeal to me, seeing as I am the least healthy person I know,”

Roman decidedly ignored the last half of Virgil’s statement and made undignified, offended gasps at Virgil, “Cute? You have got to be kidding me, weon,” Roman ruffled his dark curls after discarding the gloves he was wearing, “He has that sexy librarian thing going on, how can you not be into that?”

If you’re so ‘into that’,” Virgil quoted “Then why don’t you date him?”

Roman protested, “You would think I would, but, I am still trying to take a bite of your adorably delicious roommate,”

“Ah, right,” Virgil remembered, “That’s a fun thing to hear from your boss,”

Roman groaned dramatically and Virgil just raised an eyebrow at him, “Just go ask him out, I promise you will not regret it,” He sung that last bit, and Virgil only rolled his eyes. He did a quick sweep of the line and made sure to diligently wipe down the blenders to avoid going out into the lobby to wipe down tables.

“I am leaving now, Roman,” Virgil’s eyes trailed to the front counter to where he heard Logan’s voice, seeing the med student talk to his manager, “I will see you tomorrow, most likely,”

“Ah, that you will, weon. I hope you get your laptop fixed, promptly,” Roman flailed his arms in standard dramatic fashion and Logan shook his head at him, exhausted.

“Virgil,” Logan called out to him, a ways away down the line. He beckoned Virgil forward and he rushed forward, standing next to Roman, the two were stark contrasts of each other, “I just wanted to let you know I left something for you written on one of the napkins on the table,” Logan motioned towards his table, and sure enough, Virgil spotted a napkin and a pen left there. Virgil said nothing in response and Logan took this as an opportunity to take his leave and bid the other two a quaint farewell.

As soon as Logan was out the door, Roman began squealing with delight as Virgil turned completely red to his roots.

“Looks like Logan had the hots for you too!” He followed Virgil out into the lobby where he went to Logan’s seat and snatched up the napkin with the pen. He looked at the napkin, expecting to find a phone number or an email.

“What is it?” Roman asked, and Virgil read the napkin over again, groaning.

Virgil frowned at Roman, and read the napkin out loud:

“Smoking is the leading cause of preventable disease. Frequent smokers die 10 years earlier than non-smokers.

-(soon to be) Dr. Logan Arias, Addiction Psychiatrist”

Roman snatched the napkin away from Virgil’s grasp to read it for himself, and began laughing.

“Great, not only do I have my coworkers and housemates bother me about smoking, now I have random attractive men doing so?”

Roman continued laughing, “Si, po. Si,”

“This is why you don’t fuck with med students,” Virgil spat, bitterly.

Roman said nothing but snickered a bit more before following Virgil to the back where he pulled out his phone.

“It is not an incorrect fact, I just checked,”

“I didn’t think it would be, weon,” Roman pinned the napkin to their corkboard in the back, “Soon-to-be Dr. Logan Arias said so,” He quoted and giggled a bit more as Virgil made a grab for the napkin, but Roman deflected it.

“You suck, Roman, I want you to know that,” Virgil looked at the clock, “I was supposed to get off 45 minutes ago, can I leave?”

Roman nodded as Virgil unplugged his phone charger and grabbed his lighter (he always carries two) and inspected the note once more, “It is odd that he didn’t leave a number or anything, just a fact,”

Roman shrugged, “Maybe he will give one to you once you make an effort to stop smoking,”

Virgil barked laughing, “Fat chance,” He made a beeline for the door.

“No one wants to kiss an ashtray!” Roman called.

Virgil pushed open the door with he back as he yelled back at Roman, “I am not asking anyone to!”

He put in his earbuds and began walking with purpose back to his apartment. The walk was an easy 10 minutes where he could just block out the world and succumb to the lyrics of his Walking/Daydream Playlist.

He reached his apartment and threw his keys in the bowl at the front door. He greeted Patton and made his way to his room and looked at the time. It was only 6 o’clock, so he decided he had time for a nap before dinner. Virgil closed his eyes and fell asleep to visions of steel grey and cigarette smoke.

I made Roman Chilean in this fic (gee… I wonder why), so some of the italicized words are Chilean slang that I will define here:

santa marta - Not a Chilean slang word, but slang for marijuana in Latin America (according to the Internet).

cachai - Do you get me?/ Y’know? / Yea? At it’s core, it is essential just asking if they are on the same page.

po: Just used for emphasis when speaking.

weon: This is the most commonly used slang word in Chile. It’s meaning can range from ‘dude’ or ‘man’ to as a term of endearment, greeting to idiot or worse. The meaning all depends on context and emphasis. I am being serious when I say Chileans say this in every other sentence.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Virgil Sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #Analogical #royality #my writing #potater420 #ask prompt #why do I do this to myself

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captainswanandclintasha · 7 years

Text

Awake and Alive - Chapter 11 (11/20)

Summary: While Emma and the other Nevengers are leaving Storybrooke for Neverland to search for Henry, a misterious and unkown woman comes in Storybrooke, looking for a long lost man and some answers about herself. Meanwhile in Neverland Emma and Hook discover something about themselves that is going to change their lives forever.

Rated M for future chapters and HA for HARD ANGST. Yet no one is dying. I promise. Thought I can’t say the same about the readers (or the writer) and F for fluff (also for future chapters)

Many many thank to Cathy (@ultraluckycatnd) for her help in betaing this story!

FF.NET | AO3

As always tagging @cinnamonduckling, @captainswan-shipper88, @tirsu, @tomeandflickcorner. Let me know if you want to be tagged for future chapters!

Soooo... You’ve got a little bit of Milah/Killian at the end of the last chapter. Now get ready for more of that. Poor Killian. What is going on with him? How will he react?

Since the next chapter will be posted after Christmas I want to wish you all a nice Christmas with your friends and families and I hope Santa brings you everything you want.

Enjoy!!

________________________

“They’re back!” Leroy started to yell as soon as he got into the diner.

“Leroy, stop yelling in my diner at 10 in the morning!” Ruby yelled back at him and Milah had to smile at the exchange.

She started to get used to the city and the people in it. She loved spending her morning at the diner, sometimes just drinking coffee, other times helping Ruby when there were too many customers.

“But Red, they are back. Emma and the others are back! One of the sailors at the docks saw Hook’s ship!” the man said again. Hearing his news, Milah let out a sigh.

Was it true? Was Killian back in town? Finally? Milah thought to herself.

She looked at Ruby, who was now standing with her grandma at her side and Ruby was looking towards her.

“They’re back,” Ruby told her.

“Let’s go to the docks!” Milah said, leaving behind her food in a rush to get out the door.

“Leroy, go and tell Belle. She will want to know. Tell her to come to the docks quickly,” Ruby said as she took off her apron and then looked at Milah. “Let’s go.”

The two of them, together with Ruby’s Granny and some other people from the diner started to walk towards the docks. She could already see the ship, her former home, in the distance and her heart started to grow more and more with every minute that passed as the ship was getting closer to town.

“Maybe you should stay away for now?” Ruby turned to look at her.

“No way. Killian will be there,” Milah protested.

“He doesn’t know that you are alive, Milah. Let me, Granny, or even Belle prepare him,” Ruby explained.

Milah thought about what Ruby was saying and realized that she was right. She didn’t want to give Killian a heart attack by seeing her there, but at the same time, she didn’t want to leave. Still, the rational side of her won, so she simply nodded at Ruby.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I won’t stay here with you, but I’m going to stay close and watch him from a distance,” Milah said.

“That sounds good,” Ruby smiled at her and Milah started to walk away when Ruby called out to her. Milah turned around and Ruby started to speak again. “I will let you know when I talk to him. I promise.”

“Thank you, Ruby,”

With that, Milah started to walk between the people who were already starting to gather on the docks to welcome the people from the ship home. She wondered if Killian had at least one friend in town. A person who cared about him enough so he or she would come here to welcome him back . Ruby told her that in the short time he had spent in town, she hadn’t seen him with other people aside from the people who tried to kill everyone prior to their trip, but that his old crew were in Storybrooke. Milah looked around at the people that were on the docks for any familiar faces, but there was none she recognized. Not even Smee, whom she saw in town in the week she spent there. Maybe he had a friend on the ship? Although she doubted that, thinking back about the things Ruby told her about the people that were there with him. Rumplestiltskin, The Evil Queen, the sheriff of the town and her family. None of them liked Killian very much before they left, if what Ruby told her was true.

That’s when she remembered that one other person would be on the ship, her grandson, Baelfire son’s. Milah couldn’t help but wonder what the child looked like. Did he look like Bae, or did he look more like his mother? Milah wondered if she was going to be given the chance to meet him and his mother, and maybe even ask them more about her son.

Milah watched as the ship docked and she smiled when she saw the Jolly so close after so many years. Not a single things had been changed. Killian clearly took great care of his “marvelous ship” as he liked to say. When the ship was ready, people started to disembark. First, it was a couple that were hugged as soon as they put foot on the docks by Ruby and Granny. The couple was followed by a blonde woman and a child, the sheriff and her son, if Milah had to guess. Then another woman followed therm and the last one was Rumplestiltskin.

At the sight of her ex-husband, Milah let out a deep breath. He didn’t look like the monster that killed her. He looked only a few years older than the man she married. He was walking fine, no longer needing a cane to help him walk and Milah followed him with her eyes as he was hugged by Belle and then the two of them kissed.

Not being able to look at the two of them for much longer, Milah moved her eyes around the crowd, trying to find Killian, but he wasn’t one of the people that were in the middle of the docks being welcomed by others. When she finally found him, Milah was shocked in a good way at what she saw. He was still close to the Jolly, alone, watching people hugging and talking. But what surprised her the most was the fact that he looked exactly as she remembered, still wearing the pirate outfit she knew from many years ago.

Milah watched his profile. He was still young and still in his prime. His hair was ruffled by the wind that was blowing on the docks, while he was half leaning on a pillar. She continued to study him as best as she could, and then her eyes moved lower on his body. He was clearly more muscular, she could see that in the way his biceps were covered by his coat. Then she saw the reason people around the town were calling him Captain Hook. Instead of his left hand there was a silver hook, making him look more fearsome than he ever was.

He was looking at the blonde as she talked to her family. She looked at him, turned back to her family and then turned again and started to walk towards Killian. Milah watched her starting to smile as she was getting closer to Killian and he was smiling back at her as well. Milah watched their interaction, talking and smiling at each other and then at one point, the woman took Killian’s hand in hers as they continued to talk. The two of them talked a bit more and then they started to walk, still hand in hand, back to the group of people that was still on the docks.

As Milah watched him starting to walk away with the woman, she felt the need to make her presence known. So before she could think more about it, she came out of her hiding place and said his name loud enough so he, and everyone else, could hear her.

“Killian,” she said, hoping he would turn around.

And he did. Killian turned around, looking at her with his blue eyes and in a flash, the color on his face disappeared. She watched him as he started to tremble, stretching his hand behind him to grab Emma’s. The woman turned to look at him, looked at his hand on hers, and then looked in Milah’s direction, only to then look back again at Killian.

“What happened?” she heard her asking him.

“Do you see that woman?” Killian asked, his voice trembling.

Emma looked again at her and then at Killian, a strange look appearing on her face.

“I do. I see her. Killian, who is she?” she asked him.

“Killian?” Milah said his name again, no longer being able to watch the confusion on his face.

“Milah?” Killian finally said her name.

Hearing her name coming out of his mouth made her smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He still had the same confused and scared look on his face so Milah took a few steps forward, stretching her hand out to him. As she did that, Killian took a step back, still holding Emma’s hand tightly.

“Who are you?” Emma asked her.

Ignoring Emma’s question, Milah started to talk to Killian.

“Killian, it’s me,” she said, trying to convince him that he wasn’t seeing ghosts.

“This is impossible,” Killian said, shaking his head.

“No, it’s not.”

“What’s going on?” Emma asked Killian.

“Milah, I told you to stay away!” Ruby came from behind Emma.

“I don’t listen, you know that,” Milah answered.

Ruby looked at her with an unpleasant look on her face but Milah didn’t care in that moment. All she cared about was Killian.

“How is this possible?” Killian asked again.

“How are you still alive?” A different voice came from the group and when Milah looked past Killian, she almost froze.

The person that just spoke was none other than Rumplestiltskin. He was looking at her intensly, but not with the same confused look that Killian had in his eyes. No, Rumplestiltskin’s expressions were more curious and half annoyed about the fact that she was there.

“None of your business,” Milah snapped at him.

“Hold on! What the hell is going on here? Who are you exactly?” Emma asked again, this time looking at Rumplestiltskin.

“Oh, I think you know very well who this is, Miss Swan.”

Emma shook her head at him and raised her shoulders, silently questioning Milah’s old husband. When it was clear that no one was going to answer her about who Milah was, she decided to take the matter into her own hands and introduce herself.

“I’m Milah. I’m Killian’s-” but she couldn’t finish the sentence because Killian talked faster.

“Nothing. My nothing. My Milah is dead!” he snapped.

“I’m alive!” Milah yelled at him.

“It’s not possible! Not after 300 years!” he yelled back.

Emma watched as Killian was yelling at the woman and she was yelling back at him. Milah, Emma had to remember. Was this really her? Was this really the person Killian loved the most in this world? Neal’s mother? Hell, Henry’s grandmother?

“Mom, Dad? Why don’t you take Henry to Granny’s?” Emma turned to speak with her parents, knowing very well that none of them should be there right now.

“Are you sure?” Mary Margaret asked, moving her eyes from Emma to what was going on behind her and then back again to Emma.

“Yeah. I’ll come there after I take care of this,” Emma said, trying to smile at her.

“Ok,” Mary Margaret said, still not very sure of the situation.

Emma watched as Mary Margaret turned to Henry, put her hands on his shoulders and then guided him towards town with David, Regina, the dwarves, and Granny. Only she, Killian, Ruby, Belle, Gold, and Milah remained on the docks.

“Ruby, what is going on?” she asked, since it was obvious that she knew more than anyone else there.

“This is Milah. She came into town after you left, looking for him,” Ruby explained, pointing to Killian.

“She is my ex wife and Hook’s ex-lover,” Emma heard Gold say. “What I don’t understand is how she is alive. I killed her with my own hands,” Gold hissed, looking towards Milah.

Emma looked at him, then at Belle who physically took a step back at his words. She imagined it wasn’t easy to hear something like that, especially coming out the way it did; like Rumplestiltskin enjoyed killing his ex-wife and would do it again in a heartbeat. Emma looked at Killian who was still by her side, frozen in place, shock still present on his face.

At least he stopped yelling, Emma thought to herself.

“Welcome to the club, dear,” Milah snapped at Gold again. “No one knows how.”

“Well, it can’t be because of your heart, since I crushed it myself.”

“Rumple, maybe we should give them some space,” Belle tried to tell him.

“Oh, I think this is my concern too,” Gold said, ignoring the plea that was in Belle’s eyes.

“Please,” Belle insisted, this time looking straight in his eyes.

Gold must have finally seen the pleading look Belle had in her eyes because he agreed to leave without another word. What he did have was a dirty look for Milah. Belle looked at Milah with something that resembled worry, then at Ruby. Emma could see that the two of them had a quick discussion just with their eyes that ended with a nod from Belle to Ruby. After that, Belle took Gold’s hand and started to guide him back into town.

Emma felt like she could finally breathe when she saw Gold moving away. She wasn’t in the mood for a fight with him and she was afraid that if he would have stayed here for much longer, something bad would have happened.

“Is it really you?” Emma heard Killian finally ask.

Emma turned to look at him, but he was looking at Milah with something soft in his eyes.

“I am. It’s really me, Killian,” Milah talked, using a soft voice.

“But how?”

“I don’t know. I still have to figure that out, but I’m back, my love.”

Emma jumped at the use of the phrase. She could feel jealousy making its way into her head and she hated that. She knew deep down that she had no reason to worry, but another voice in her head was asking “what if”. Looking from Killian to Milah, Emma started to feel like she was out of place there like a third wheel, so she decided that maybe she should go back to Granny’s and be with her family.

“Maybe I should go,” she told Killian, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” Killian said, quickly, panicking.

“I will be at Granny’s with the others,” Emma tried to assure him.

“Stay. Please, Emma,” Killian pleaded to her softly.

Emma let out a sigh, but nodded. She looked at Milah who had an annoyed look on her face, most likely because she was going to stay with them and then at Killian who was looking at her, panic still present on his face.

“Maybe I should be the one who should go back,” Ruby said, from behind Emma.

Emma looked at her with a small smile and nodded, knowing very well that Ruby might not want to be there in the middle of everything.

“Thanks, Ruby.”

“Should I let everyone know that you are still here, Emma?”

“Just my parents and Henry. Thank you, Ruby,” she smiled at her. Ruby just nodded at her and left with a smile on her face.

After Ruby left, all that remained on the docks were Emma, Killian and Milah. The silence grew between them and started to become more and more uncomfortable.

“Maybe we should move this to the Jolly,” Killian suggested.

Both Milah and Emma agreed it was a good idea, so the three of them started to walk back to the ship. When they got there, Emma didn’t know what to do. She watched Killian as he went to sit on a barrel while Milah stayed close to one of the edges of the deck. Watching her, Emma realized that she hadn’t introduced herself to Milah.

“I‘m Emma,” she said, holding her hand out to Milah. “I realized I hadn’t introduced myself.”

Milah took Emma’s hand in hers and put a fake smile on her face, simply replying “Milah”..

“So…” Emma started to talk. She knew what she really wanted to ask, but she didn’t know how to make it sound less… rude. “You really don’t know how you are alive?” came out after a short time.

“I’m afraid not. I tried to figure it out, I even went to see the Blue Fairy. But she couldn’t do much for me,” Milah explained.

Emma closely studied her, trying to see if there was any lie in what she was saying, but there was none. What she said was true.

“So then why are you here?”

“To talk to Killian.”

“Actually, I was wondering what you’re doing here in Storybrooke,” Emma said awkwardly .

“I’m here for Killian,” Milah said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I understand,” Emma said, not really understanding, but at least trying to.

She looked at Killian who raised his head and looked at the two of them with a lost look. It was hard to read him in that moment.

“Killian? Please say something?” Milah asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, looking at Milah and then at Emma. Emma tried to smile at him, tried to encourage him, but she knew she didn’t succeed.

“Anything would be good,” Milah said with a somewhat demanding voice that Emma didn’t like.

“I can’t believe you are alive,” Killian finally said.

“Well, me neither.”

“Although, it would have been nice if you knew why,” Killian continued.

“What do you mean?” Both Milah and Emma looked at him with puzzled looks.

“People just don’t come back from the dead out of the blue, Milah. Trust me, I know,” Killian said, taking a look at Emma and put on a small smile. “There has to be a reason why you’re alive.”

“Aren’t you happy?” Milah asked with a pained voice, making Emma feel sorry for her.

“I am happy, of course I am happy. I just don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t look very happy,” Milah replied, her frustration showing.

“Milah. I’m shocked, okay? You came out of nowhere, telling me that you’re alive after all this time,” Killian snapped at her.

“Ruby was right. I should have let her tell you,” Milah said with a sad voice.

Emma hated the whole situation, but she sympathized with both sides. On one hand, Killian was put in an impossible situation, deciding to move on with someone new when his long lost love miraculously returned back from the dead after 300 years. And on the other side, if Emma had to guess, Milah came back expecting him to be happy for her return, but instead of being met with warmth and affection, she was met with coldness, being snapped at, and overall apathy. Milah was getting her very first glimpse of Captain Hook.

Looking at the two of them, Emma decided that they both needed some time for themselves.

“Maybe you could give him some time,” Emma said to Milah.

Milah nodded but then snapped at Emma.

“I still don’t understand why you decided to stay here,” she said quite rudely.

“I’m his… friend. I’m Killian’s friend, and I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“Friend?” Milah said snidely, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Maybe your friend is right, Killian,” Milah said. Emma could tell that she didn’t believe her. “Maybe I should give you some time alone.”

“Thank you,” Killian told Milah with real sincerity in his voice.

“I’m going to come back later. Or maybe tomorrow,” Milah told him before she started to walk down the plank.

“Yeah, ok” Killian simply said.

“Bye Emma.”

“Bye.”

Emma watched as Milah left the ship. She waited to make sure that she was far enough away before she let out a deep breath she didn’t realized she was holding. With Milah gone, Emma moved to sit beside Killian on another barrel.

“So that was Milah.”

“Aye.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Killian rose and went to lean on the railing, looking out towards the ocean. Emma rose from her place and went to him.

“Talk to me Killian,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“How is it possible?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Regina can find out. Or even Gold.”

“You saw him earlier. He doesn’t like the idea of her being alive.”

“Let’s think about that another time. Right now, something else is more important,” Emma said, trying to change the subject. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused as hell? I don’t understand. Why after all these years? Why now?”

“Why now?” Emma wondered about what he meant.

“It’s been 300 years. Why now? Why not years ago?” Killian questioned. “Why now, after everything that happened in Neverland with us,” he added, making Emma’s heart sink.

“There has to be a reason,” she started. “Maybe we were wrong. In Neverland, I mean,” Emma said, trying to ignore Tink’s voice inside her head, telling her that no, they weren’t wrong.

“No, Emma. We weren’t wrong. I know it. Milah being alive doesn’t change that,” Killian quickly dismissed her idea.

Emma tried to read him again and this time, things were clear in his eyes. There was no doubt in his eyes when it came to her and about what they shared. He had many emotions in his eyes in that moment, but there was one that scared Emma, even if she was expecting it.

“I should get back to Henry,” she said, trying to look anywhere other than his eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m not really in the mood for partying right now. Do you mind if I don’t come with you?”

“No. I know you need some space,” she said, being completely understanding.

“Aye. That I do,” he said with a small smile.

“Will you be alright?” she asked him.

“I’ll try.”

“Okay.”

Emma wanted to leave without another word, but he still had that look in his eyes; the look that some people might describe as a “lost puppy” look, so she did the first thing that came to her mind. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a small, but meaningful, kiss. She felt his smile against her lips and she couldn’t help but smile as well. His lips were soft and she was sure that if she proposed to stay there with him doing that for the next few hours, he wouldn't say no. But they both needed some time alone to think and get some sleep, so Emma broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his.

“I really have to go back,” she said between hard pants.

“Okay,” he said with a small smile. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice sounding hopeful.

“Of course,” she said, turning away and starting to walk off the ship. “Bye, Killian,” she said, turning to face him one more time before stepping onto the gangplank.

She saw him smile and heard his “goodbye, love” behind her as she started walking down the plank.

She wanted to go home and change her clothes first, but she decided that a few more hours at Granny’s wouldn’t be that bad. Besides, her stomach was yelling at her to give it proper food, so she started to walk the short distance to the diner.

She still couldn't believe that Milah, the Milah, was alive and well in Storybrooke. She hoped that after Neverland, she would finally have time for herself, not only take a vacation with Henry but also take the time she needed to think about everything that happened and was going to happen with Hook. She wanted to explore this thing between them, to see where it would go, but she was afraid that now with Milah in town, things wouldn’t be that easy. They had to help Milah find out why she was alive, that was for sure. And that alone might take a lot longer than what Emma was willing to give away from her own time. Besides, she needed to find out what Milah’s intentions towards Killian were. Did she want to be with him again or did she want to be just friends? Right now, Emma felt like she was going to lose her mind.

Her stomach made strange noises again and Emma decided that for tonight, she was going to push all of that aside, and all she planned to do was to eat and sleep for at least ten hours.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfics #cs au #captainswanandclintasha #awake and alive

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arya3601 · 8 years

Text

Diners in the Early Hours

Based on this tumblr post

Castiel is a waiter who is too tired after working all night. The Winchesters come to the diner for a meal after a hunt. It's 1:30 AM. What could go wrong?

Read it on AO3!

Castiel was about two seconds away from using the apple pie on the counter as a pillow. After his second 8 hour shift in a row, working in an “open 24 hours!” restaurant at, he checked his watch, 1:34 in the morning, a pie pillow didn't seem like the worst thing ever. He still had about an hour and a half left on his shift, and his manager had ducked out nearly an ago on a “smoke break”. No one would probably even notice if he was asleep. Sure, Chuck was over in the corner booth, but the twitchy writer came in every night and Castiel knew he took a good hour on one cup of coffee. He had just served him half an hour ago, and by the looks of the mug Chuck had already topped it off with the small bottle he kept in his jacket. It wouldn't even be that bad, he thought dreamily. It has a nice, soft crust and a sweet filling...

The door burst open and the cheery jingle shook Castiel out of his sleep-deprived stupor. I'm tearing that fucking bell down first chance I get, he grumbled to himself. The man that had thrown the door open strode over to a table and sat down heavily, a small boy and a guy about Castiel's age following behind.

They all looked just this side of skinny, and their clothes were faded and worn. The man had some serious stubble going on, right on the edge of being almost a beard, and was wearing an old-looking scratched up leather jacket. The younger kid kept flicking his just-a-little-too-long hair out of his face and was sporting, as Gabriel would say, “a wicked shiner”. He was talking animatedly to the older boy, who had a busted lip and was wearing a plaid shirt and heavy jacket over what looked like three other layers. And sunglasses. At 1:30 in the morning.

Castiel shook himself from his observations and grabbed menus to give them. He walked over and placed one in front of each person.

There was a pause before the older boy said, “Ah...thanks...I'll just...read this...” with a crooked smile on his face. The younger boy burst into giggles and Castiel tilted his head in confusion. The man rolled his eyes and kept his face in its no-nonsense expression. Oh, Castiel realized. Sunglasses at 1:30 at night isn't exactly a popular fashion choice... He must be blind, you idiot! You just gave a blind kid a menu he can't read. He snorted before immediately covering his mouth.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” he managed.

“Sam,” the man said in a low voice, immediately stopping the younger boy's increasingly loud laughter. The older boy was still smiling but the lines on his face became hard.

Castiel blinked at the sudden change in mood before launching right into his usual, unfortunately comforting, spiel. “Welcome to Missouri's Diner, my name is Castiel and I'll be your server today. Would you all like to start with some drinks this evening?”

“Castiel?” the younger boy, Sam, said excitedly. “Isn't that an angel?”

Castiel smiled at him, impressed with his knowledge. “Actually, the angel's name is Cassiel, but, yeah, pretty much! My mom thought the 't' in the middle gave it a nicer ring. It's really great that you know that, actually, he's not really one of the more well-known angels.”

“Yeah, Sammy gets really into all kinds of nerd stuff like that,” the older boy grinned fondly in Sam's general direction.

Sam rolled his eyes. “It's interesting, Dean! Stop acting like you didn't know it, too, I know you read that book faster than I did. I don't know why you don't let yourself be smart.”

Dean just shook his head, smile faltering.

The man, maybe their father? cleared his throat. “If we're all done with this getting touchy-feely with the waiter shit, I need a drink. What do you serve here that's alcoholic?”

Castiel felt his real smile freeze into his customer-service-dealing-with-unpleasant-people smile. “Unfortunately, sir, even though it is only 1:30 in the morning, it is a Sunday, and I am not legally allowed to serve you alcohol.”, he said with no small amount of satisfaction.

Dean's grin turned real again. He was really pretty when he smiled like that, his freckles standing out and pink lips moving to reveal nice, white teeth... Castiel shook himself and started weighing the benefits of drinking all six of the 5-hour energies he had stored in his backpack for emergency purposes.

“So, Sammy,” Dean said. “How's a chocolate shake sound?”

“Dean,” the man nearly growled.

“What, dad?” Dean was still smiling, but his tone was hard. “Does it really matter? We're using the credit card, right? We don't have to worry about having enough cash.”

Sam winced at something and said, “No, water's fine.” he glanced up at Castiel. “Please.”

Castiel smiled at the polite kid. Nice for someone to treat him like a person for once. “No problem, water's allowed on Sundays.” He winked at the boy before turning to Dean. “How about you, sir?”

Sam elbowed his brother. “He's talking to you.”

Oh, right, blind.

Dean smiled in Castiel's general direction. “Water's fine for me, too, thanks.”

“Alright, two waters, and you, sir?” his smile turned hard again as he addressed the older man.

The man grumbled before throwing the menu down and muttering, “Water.”

“Alright, those will be out in a minute,” Castiel walked to the counter and filled three glasses with water, not seeing the point in bothering the chef for such a simple thing. He dawdled at the counter a minute, trying to give them time to look over the menus, but once he started drifting off again he headed back over with their drinks.

“Here you are, sirs.” he placed them down carefully. “Dean, yours is on your right hand side above your silverware.”

A look of surprise flashed across both boy's faces. Sam awarded him a gummy grin while Dean just looked quietly happy.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“How do you know his name?” the man said suspiciously.

“Oh, I'm sorry, your son said it earlier. I didn't want to touch him without permission so I thought saying his name would be okay.” Castiel said cautiously. “I apologize if I crossed a line of some kind.”

“No,” Sam broke in loudly, “you're fine! I said it earlier, dad, remember?”

“Yeah, it's cool,” Dean smiled crookedly.

The man glared at him for another few seconds before turning away muttering something that sounded “you never fucking know in these hick towns”. Which, confused Castiel, you never know what? and was somehow offensive.

Castiel sent Sam a grateful smile before lifting his notepad. “Do you gentlemen know what you want to eat today?”

Castiel took their orders and collected their menus with little fuss, walking back to the counter. “Order up, Benny!” He called, passing the ticket through the window. He heard some Southern-tinged muttering before the sounds of cooking started up. Castiel smiled to himself. He knew night shifts were hard, but Benny was just beginning to realize. A new baby on the way meant he was picking up shifts when he could for some extra income.

“Just think, Benny,” Castiel said with fake cheer. “It's great practice for when you'll be waking up all night to change diapers and rock a fussy baby.”

He heard some more Cajun-sounding grumbling interspersed with what he couldn't quite hear but sounded very much like a few choice words. He chuckled to himself.

“Who's the douchebag over there?” a smoky voice asked close to his ear.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “How nice of you to join us, Meg.” He turned around to see the dark, curly hair and impeccable make-up of his manager. “I think that's a new record for a smoke break, what was it?” he checked his watch, “Fifty-five minutes?”

She just smiled at him. “We all have vices, Clarence. Some of them just take...longer to work out.” She raised a dark eyebrow suggestively.

Castiel made a face and answered her earlier question on lieu of broaching that subject. “Assuming you're talking about the young man near the door, his name is Dean. Why did you call him a douchebag?”

“Uh, hello? Sunglasses, inside, at 2 in the morning? The only people who do that are the ones that think they, themselves, are in fact the sun. Douche. Bags.”

Castiel snorted. “Great theory, except for the fact that he's fucking blind.”

She raised both eyebrows this time. “Well don't I just feel like the biggest hag in hell right now.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, did you watch that link Gabriel sent everyone?”

Castiel tilted his head. “I usually find it inadvisable to click on anything Gabriel sends me.” He remarked dryly.

“Well, you are missing out, Clarence. This one included a fake mustache and unbelievable amounts of candy. It starts-”

A ding blessedly interrupted her before she could get any further.

“And on that note.” Castiel said loudly. “I should get the customers their food. Or you could, being manager and all?”

She rolled her eyes at him and shooed him off, but after a couple years on this job he was well used to it.

“Here we are,” he listed off each order as he placed everything in front of its intended recipient. He stood there awkwardly for a second to make sure no one needed anything.

“Well,” Dean exclaimed. “It looks delicious!”

Sam burst into giggles again and Dean looked very pleased with himself, both brothers ignoring the threatening look their dad sent their way. At least, Sam ignored it, Dean didn't see it. Castiel reasoned to himself. Castiel just smiled at Dean's remark. “I'll be sure to tell the chef; he'll probably stop being so cranky with me if he knows you like his food.” He winked at Sam again. “Feel free to yell if you need me. You're pretty much the only customers here, so you don't need to worry about bothering anyone else.”

The last remark was directed mainly to Dean, who appreciated it if his softened smile was anything to go by.

Castiel retreated to the counter to grab the coffee pot and headed to Chuck's table to top off his drink. The writer jumped, as usual, when Castiel approached, but gave him a nervous smile when his mug was refilled.

“Thanks.” he said softly.

“No problem, Chuck.” Castiel replied, just as quietly. “I hope your book's going well.”

“Yeah,” the man's eyes lit up. “It really, really is.”

“Good,” Castiel smiled. The man may always look ten seconds away from a nervous breakdown, but he was a lot nicer than a lot of the other people that came through here. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

Meg was waiting for him at the counter when he returned. “Anyway, as I was saying, the fake mustache is-”

“Oh, sorry, Meg.” Castiel talked over the beginning of her story. Usually he hated being rude, but he'd rather deal with a little guilt than hear this particular story. Especially knowing the kind of video his brother usually sent links to. “I have to talk to Benny, a customer wanted me to ask something about his food.” Castiel escaped narrowed eyes and pursed lips with a smile and walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, brother, what're you doing back here?” The bear of a man asked brusquely, but not without a tired smile. “You rarely visit little ol' me.”

Castiel smiled and leaned against a counter. “Let's just say... With only an hour left on my shift, Meg was getting to be a bit much.” Benny nodded understandingly. “Also, a customer complimented your food and I told him I'd tell you.”

Benny looked surprised. “Someone walked into a 24-hour diner at 2 o'clock in the morning and complimented... the food?”

Castiel chuckled. “Well, there's more to it than that, but don't put yourself down. Your food is delicious.”

Benny tipped his hat in thanks. “Thanks, you know I'm always one to toot my own horn. But what's the 'more to it'?”

“He's blind.”

“... And? You don't need to see food to enjoy it.”

Castiel tipped his head in acknowledgement. “No, I know, Benny, and I wasn't saying your food looks bad either. He hadn't eaten any of it yet.”

Benny looked hard at him for a moment. “This is a bit much for a man my age this late at night, cher. You're saying that a blind man complimented my food, that he couldn't see, before he ate it.”

“Well he's more of a teenager than a man, really, but yeah.” Castiel nodded.

“... Did it smell that good?”

Castiel laughed again. “I think it was more to aggravate his father, the man seems very...” he paused, trying to find the right word, “exacting.”

Benny shook his head. “Well, we all gotta find the light in our lot, huh?” He glanced through the window. “You better get back out there, Meg will probably be gone already and Lord knows we can't leave the counter unmanned this late.”

Castiel sighed and straightened. “Yeah, okay. There’s no one out there right now, so if you want to grab a quick power nap I’ll wake you up when we need you.” He gestured to the fold-out chair sitting in the corner.

Benny gave him a tired smile at the offer but shook his head. “If I do that, I’ll probably end up choppin’ my finger off. Staying tired is better than trying to wake up again.”

Cas nodded in understanding. “Alright. There’s just about an hour left. I’ll be sure to come rescue you as soon as our torture is over.” He laughed when Benny swatted at him with a kitchen towel as Cas left the kitchen.

Back at the counter, the diner was still as dead as one would expect at 2 in the morning. Chuck looked like he was still scribbling away, the parking lot was still empty, bar a big, black car the ragged family must have driven in, and the apple pie looked as good as always. Meg, predictably, had already disappeared again, but Cas didn’t really care. As long as Anna was here in an hour for her shift, he wasn’t even going to try and find their wayward manager.

Castiel grabbed a mug from the back counter and filled it with coffee, putting it on the lip of the order window for Benny. He heard a deep sigh followed by a muffled “Thanks” as it disappeared into the kitchen.

He heard a clatter from the table of three and sighed. He walked over, running a hand though his hair. Please just be a dropped fork or something. I do NOT want to mop up anything right now.

Castiel approached the table with his customer-service smile firmly in place. “Is everything all right over here, gentlemen?” He asked, standing behind Dean.

Weirdly, nothing was dropped or spilled. Cas surreptitiously glanced over their table and didn’t see anything that would have caused the clatter he had heard. Except… the older man’s fist was balled up and pressed to the table. He looked angry. Did he slam his fist on the table? Why?

Sam gave him a shaky smile. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

Castiel looked at the boy’s black eye with a new view. He felt a sudden, irrational anger towards his father, but reined himself in. As awful as it was, and as angry as it made him, calling him out on it right now wouldn’t do anyone any good. He was alone here, the man was obviously bigger than him, and as strong as Cas was, he was tired. If it came to a confrontation, it wouldn’t end well for Castiel. But not starting a fight didn’t mean he had to leave quite yet. “…Alright, then. Is everything tasting okay? Anyone need any refills or anything?”

“We’re fine.” The man growled, fist still clenched on the table. “Leave us alone.”

“Now, dad,” Dean said, his tone sickly sweet. “That’s not a good way to answer the nice waiter that just wants to help us.” Castiel couldn’t see his face from where he was standing, but he was sure the teenager had a twisted grin on his face. He was obviously taking advantage of the opportunity to poke the bear.

“Dean,” the man warned, temper wearing thinner by the word. “Shut the fuck up. We’ll talk when we get back to the goddamn motel.”

Castiel heard Dean draw a breath, no doubt to mouth off again, but the waiter rested a hand on his back, out of view of the father. Trying to warn him to let it go. Dean closed his mouth and Cas breathed a small sigh of relief. “It’s fine, sir.” His smile was forced, but necessary. “No need to worry about me, I have tough skin. I do notice that your glass seems a bit low, though,” he gestured to Sam, “so I’ll be right back with some water for you.” It came much easier to give the boy a small smile.

The bearded man looked like he was going to argue, but saw it would be easier to let it go. “Fine.”

“Great.” Castiel removed his hand from Dean’s back, walking as quickly as he could without being suspicious to the counter. He grabbed the pitcher the diner used for ice water and started filling it, muttering under his breath for it to speed up. Finally, after what felt like much too long, he grabbed a straw and walked back to the table.

The small family looked like they had been having an argument for as long as Cas had been gone, leaning back as he approached. The dad looked pissed off, and Sam looked pretty angry, too. Dean just looked… tired.

“Here you are, my fine sir,” he winked at Sam as he refilled his glass, hoping to make him laugh. Sam didn’t laugh. Just gave him a small smile and a quiet thank you.

Castiel turned to Dean, ignoring the older man’s eyes on him. “Dean?” He asked quietly to get his attention.

Dean turned to the sound of his voice. “Yeah, Cas?” He sounded so defeated, it made Castiel sad.

He felt his cheeks turn a little pink, but forged on anyway. Dean couldn’t see it, after all. “I noticed your lip was split, and thought it might be hard to drink like that. I have a straw here, if you want it?”

Dean looked surprised, but it melted into gratitude. “Yeah,” He said softly. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

Cas smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see it. Maybe especially because he couldn’t see it. He deserved just as much kindness as anyone else. If not more. “It’s not a problem. Would you rather I give it to you or Sam?”

Dean smiled at him. “I can handle it.” He put out his hand, palm up, waiting for the straw.

Castiel placed it in his hand carefully, brushing the tips of his fingers against the skin. The fingers were scarred. The palm was calloused. His skin was warm.

Cas stepped back, glancing over the table. Sam was smiling again, looking back and forth between Dean and Castiel. The old man had closed his eyes at some point, rubbing his hand over his face. Castiel wondered how much of the exchange he had seen. He decided it might be best to retreat to the counter for now, but he was going to keep a close eye on the table.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

Nothing much happened for the rest of their meal. The man looked tense, Sam looked excited, Dean looked quietly happy. They didn’t talk or rekindle the argument the man’s slammed fist had extinguished. They just ate and drank, eventually standing to leave.

Dean’s father handed Dean a credit card, saying something tersely, before heading out to the car. Cas couldn’t say he was sorry. He hadn’t looked forward to dealing with the angry man. again. Sam led Dean to the register where Cas was waiting, looking like an excited puppy.

“Hey, Cas!” he said once they stopped in front of the register.

“Hey, Sam!” He smiled at the boy. “How was everything?”

“It was great!” Sam beamed at him, hand still on his older brother’s arm. “Wasn’t it, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled in Castiel’s direction, face just slightly too far to the left. “The food was really good.”

Castiel felt himself blush a little again, but ignored it. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’ll be sure to tell Benny you guys liked it.” There was a pause where Castiel just looked at Dean before coughing to himself. “Um, so… Your bill came up to $15. 24. How will you be paying?” He was already reaching for the card option when Dean surprised him.

“Cash.”

Cas blinked. “Oh. Okay.” He picked the right option on the screen before looking up at him.

Sam looked shocked. “Really, Dean?”

Dean chuckled, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “Yeah, man, it’s just $15. I can cover that, no need to trouble the old man. Also, it’s just… better.” He shrugged, handing Cas a $20.

Cas didn’t really understand how cash was easier, but Sam seemed to know something he didn’t. He looked at the waiter like he had just done something amazing.

Cas was a little uncomfortable, but did his job, making correct change and printing a receipt. He paused before handing Dean back his change and scribbled something on a blank meal ticket before handing it back over.

Dean’s brow furrowed as he felt the different texture of the paper. “What’s this?”

“Um,” Castiel cleared his throat. “I might be… making some assumptions, here… but your dad seems like a really… intense guy.” He glanced up from the counter that he had been staring at, seeing Dean’s face was still confused. “There’s two phone numbers on that piece of paper. One for someone who might be able to help you. Someone that helped me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, slouching a little, remembering old times. Remembering Marv. Feeling every scar he hid and odd twinge from things that had never healed quite right. Remembering Charlie, who had rescued him. She hadn’t fully saved him, but she had tried. Cas had too much he had to fix by himself to award that to anyone but himself. He drew up to his full height again and looked Sam in the eyes.

“She’s a good person. You don’t have to call her, you don’t have to do anything, but if you do call her…” He lost steam a little bit. “She can help.” He ended softly.

Sam looked at Dean, waiting for his reaction. Dean didn’t look angry, like Cas had expected. He looked surprised again. Maybe a little sad, a little thankful. Slightly tired.

“Yeah, Cas.” He nodded, sunglasses slipping a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind. But you said there were two numbers?”

Cas blushed, full force this time. “Ah. Yes. The other is, um, it’s mine.” He raised his hands and waved them as he talked. “I know you can’t, like, text or anything, but if you ever just want to talk.” He looked at Dean, hoping he could feel his gaze even if he couldn’t see it. “I’d like to talk to you sometime.”

Cas could see Sam’s hold on Dean’s arm tighten, and his smile was so bright he was sure Benny could see it through the order window. He tugged on Dean’s sleeve, obviously excited and wanting Dean to respond.

Dean smiled, and Cas could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes above his slipped sunglasses. “That would be great, Cas. I’d like to talk to you, too.” He leaned forward, effectively blocking Sam out as he whispered, “You have a really nice voice, dude.”

Castiel smiled. “Thank you. You do, too.” Because of course he did. Dean’s voice was smooth and deep, like the night sky between the stars. It was musical. And Cas must be more tired than he thought if he was having poetic thoughts like this.

A car horn blared outside.

“Well, that’s our cue.” Dean shot Cas a mock salute, paper still hand in his hand. “I’ll keep this safe, don’t worry.”

Castiel laughed. “I’m not worried. Goodbye, Dean, Sam. It was nice meeting you.” He gave Sam a salute, just to mock Dean a little bit, and said, “By the way, Sam, you’re welcome to call me, too, if you ever need someone to talk to.” He shot him a final wink, a last ditch effort to finally get the boy to laugh.

Sam did laugh, and he responded happily, “Yeah, Cas, I’ll call! We can talk about stuff!” He beamed at Cas. Cas felt like he had just gained the little brother he never knew he wanted, and he couldn’t be happier.

Sam led Dean to the car waiting outside, giving Castiel a final wave as he got in the car. Cas started laughing as Dean waved his hand in the air crazily. He hoped Sam would tell him he waved back.

He was really looking forward to their first call.

#my writing #fic #destiel #whelvenwings #look i did a thing #diner #blind dean #waiter cas #kid Sam #mentioned abuse #fluff #less interaction between the two than any of us wanted #eh #based off a tumblr post

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mredwinsmith · 7 years

Text

That Primal Feeling

I played Ultimate for eighteen years, from 1979 when I was a Harvard freshman, through many years in Boston, until the fall of 1996 when I went to Nationals with my Colorado team. The whole time I was also trying to write but I didn’t publish my first book until I quit playing. When that book came out in 1997, I moved from Colorado back to Cape Cod. The book was with a university press, nothing flashy, but it did land me representation with an agent who worked for a big agency called ICM. My ICM agent asked to see all the various projects I was working on so she could strategize about what book to do next. She was looking for a big book, a “break out” book. The projects I sent her included a new novel and a memoir and a book about birds. But she wasn’t interested in those books, but another, a simple proposal that I’d dashed off before mailing her the package.

“I think we should go with the one about Ultimate Frisbee,” she said.

The book proposal suggested that I would return, in George Plimpton fashion, and play with Boston, then both National and World Champs, for a season. Even though I’d played for almost two decades while simultaneously struggling to become a writer, two efforts that proved metaphoric mirrors, I had never really considered writing about Ultimate before. But now that my agent was excited so was I. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone and both win Nationals and write a big book. The year was 1998 and though I had been out of the sport for a couple of seasons I was a still relatively-young thirty-seven.

The Boston team was receptive, and I travelled with them down to a spring tournament in New Jersey. I went to the tourney as more of a writer than a player, and between games I interviewed as many of the players as I could. And while I was there to take notes and do research, I played okay for someone who had been out of the game for a while. But it wasn’t playing Ultimate that I was really excited about. I couldn’t wait to get back home and start writing.

The night after we won the Jersey tournament, I returned to Cape Cod and went to bed early, excited about getting up the next morning to type up the Ultimate notes I’d been accumulating. But I didn’t make it until morning. At midnight I sat up in bed, wide awake, and since I couldn’t sleep I decided to head to my study and get to work. I started typing and didn’t stop for the next week. I caught snatches of sleep but other than that just wrote and wrote and wrote, an experience unique in my writing life. Up until then the subjects of my writing had been nature, my father’s death, Thoreau, profound stuff. Now I was writing about Ultimate! It was perfect really: I might finally make people understand that Ultimate was not a joke but a real thing, a great thing.

* * *

During my years playing I was driven by a complicated mix of motives that included ambition, whimsy, love, and vanity. But it wouldn’t be until I hung up my cleats that I would start to recognize what I missed most about the game. What I missed most was not just camaraderie but camaraderie with a purpose. I missed all the moments, few and far between, when I lost myself completely in the game, when pestering thought disappeared and was replaced by a joyful thoughtfulness and a sense of being a strong animal.

Over the years I became interested in players who seemed in the throes of what I called “going animal.” More than once I saw a wild glimmer in the eyes of my teammate, Scott “Turbo” Conrad, for instance, and there were times when he could appear practically feral. But Turbo was naturally pretty wild and the story that most intrigued me was one involving a more unlikely Wildman.

It happened in 1997 while Boston’s team DoG (Death or Glory) was playing a North Carolina team, Ring of Fire, in the Semifinals of the National Championships. Boston was a team with immensely talented players, and when they were flowing, their offense was a ballet of nonstop running and jumping, the disc zinging from hand to hand. But now DoG was in disarray, down 6 to 1 in a game to 18, and after winning three championships in a row it looked like their dynasty was over. Their play looking more like comic opera than ballet: players overthrew open receivers, tripped and fell, let out anguished cries after dropping easy passes.

Ring of Fire couldn’t believe their good luck. Ring had always been a solid team, a top ten team, but no one had really given them much of a chance to beat Boston. Now they were playing out of their heads, diving and skying to snatch discs out of the air as the adrenaline pumped through their blood. As with any underdog that suddenly finds themselves way ahead, a part of them wondered when the magic would end, but for now they rode the wave.

Finally, Boston began to show a little life, and it was Jim Parinella who started to lead them back. Of average height with a slightly exotic blur to his eyes and dark curly hair, Parinella was a tireless runner and one of the game’s best players. He was also a self-admitted engineering geek, who could look at his own game as disinterestedly as a computer program that needed debugging. In fact, he worked for Raytheon, where he studied enterprise systems with an eye toward creating efficiency. Earlier in the tournament, after dropping a pass, he’d considered changing his receiving style and actually said, “I will probably adjust my pass-catching algorithm to incorporate this new information.” It wasn’t particularly surprising that Parinella would be a factor in Boston’s comeback. What would surprise everyone is the manner in which he did it.

Down 6-2, sensing the desperation of the situation, the Boston players began laying-out everywhere. Ring of Fire, however, still rode its early confidence; their offensive players dove, too, catching the disc just beyond the reach of the Boston defenders. Near the goal line, just when it looked like Ring would score, Boston’s John Axon anticipated a pass, threw himself through the air, and intercepted the disc with his outstretched hand. Boston now had it—this could have been what swung the game’s momentum—but suddenly there was yelling, confusion, and play stopped.

What had stopped the game is that someone on the North Carolina team had called a foul. Finally, after a long argument, the disc was returned to Ring of Fire, and, soon after, they scored to make it 7-2. But while Ring had won the battle, the argument seemed to have added fire to Boston. When Parinella caught the next goal, he became wildly excited, screaming and exhorting the Boston players.

“Come on, we’re still in it!” he yelled. “We’re not going to lose this thing! Come on!”

Boston’s Death or Glory (1998)

Later, Parinella would recall this as perhaps the most emotional moment of his entire life, and for a second his teammates didn’t know what to make of him. They were shocked. It was like watching the episode of Star Trek where Spock finally finds passion. But as Parinella continued, his face uncharacteristically animated, they got swept up in his emotion. That’s right, we’re not going to lose this thing, we’ve worked too fucking hard! The Boston sideline came alive, players pumping their fists and yelling encouragement.

And suddenly Boston had it. The defense made several spectacular blocks, and the gap in the score gradually tightened. 10-6. 11-6. 11-7. 11-8. 12-8. Soon Boston was in a kind of place where even bad plays turn good. Parinella, perhaps overamped by the endorphins pumping through him, put a little too much mustard on a throw to Chris Corcoran and the Frisbee sailed past him down the field. But Mike Cooper, a long-limbed man who was built to run, anticipated the screwup and caught up to the disc for a 40-yard gain. Jordan Haskell, who was running the team’s offensive substitutions, began to criticize Parinella’s throw, but Parinella uncharacteristically turned on him.

“Don’t even fucking think of pulling me,” Parinella snapped, and Haskell stepped back, slightly amused but also intimidated by this new creature. Parinella, meanwhile, was caught up in whatever it was he was becoming. The feeling surging up in him may be the real reason that people put so much into a sport that seems to give back so little of what’s usually considered important. This wasn’t about money or trophies or reputation, or even about that satisfying afterglow that can come once the game is won. Right then it was about feeling. He could suddenly hear the breathing of the man he was defending and knew where that man would cut before he did. It was a primal sensation: running, skying, diving, hucking. In his normal life he might study enterprise systems, but at that moment he was a strong animal who couldn’t be contained. When he caught a goal to pull Boston closer, he felt something he’d never felt on a Frisbee field before. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I felt I wasn’t going to let the team lose,” he’d say later. Ring of Fire remained ahead by 2, but Boston would win this game; Parinella was certain of that now. And as great—as absorbing and enlivening—as this feeling was, it was made better because he was part of a team. For Parinella, it wasn’t hard to see a physical manifestation of the feeling that was welling up in his chest. He only had to look at the faces of his teammates, faces that shined with joyous savagery. They moved with one surging purpose, trusting their teammates as they trusted their own muscles and judgement.

It was, as Parinella sensed, a shared thing. They were part of something and they all felt it and it showed more and more in how they played. Steve Mooney, the team’s captain, flew around the field, directing traffic, throwing strikes, giving his teammates an easy target. Lenny Engel, the team’s emotional sparkplug, had been hobbled by a knee injury all year, but now he was suddenly sticking to his man, celebrating wildly after each goal, and breathing fire. At the other extreme was Jeremy Seeger, the man that my Harvard teammate Simon Long had once dubbed “God.” As a god Jeremy was fairly unassuming, certainly not the Old Testament one, closer to a wisp thin Modigliani Jesus with hollowed eyes. But if Jeremy sometimes appeared unassuming off the field, on the field he was set free.

For Ring of Fire, the goals were getting harder and harder to come by. What had been flow was now a trickle. Boston had many spectacular blocks, but the one that really seemed to break Ring’s back was made by a relatively unheralded player, Jeff Yu, also known as “Jethro.” Always quietly intense, Jethro would later admit to being even more fired up by what he’d come to call Parinella’s “primal scream.” He was ready when the man he was defending cut upfield and another Ring player got ready to throw. Jethro baited the thrower by pretending to be a little further off his man than he really was, and when the throw was made, Jethro pounced. He flew through the air, stretched out to his full length, and the disc stuck to his fully extended left hand. The Boston bench exploded.

It was gradually beginning to dawn on Ring of Fire that their little dreamtime was over. When Boston received the disc, up 15-14, they called a set play that involved Moons throwing to Alex de Frondeville who in turn would throw to Parinella who would throw to Chris Corcoran. But when de Frondeville received the disc on his own ten yard line, Parinella sensed that the Ring defender was overplaying him. He faked out, then in, and the defender bit hard. Parinella took off deep and de Frondeville launched the disc up and out. Eighty yards later, Parinella caught it for a goal. 16-14. At that point the game was capped. Ring of Fire scored to make it a one point game, but Boston could put them away by simply scoring one more time.

Then the inexplicable happened. The disc was worked up the field to Jeremy Seeger, who saw Parinella streaking across the end zone. This was it for the game, and when it left Seeger’s hand, it felt good. The man guarding Jeremy practically conceded defeat by saying, “Damn, nice throw, how’d you get that off?” But Parinella somehow didn’t catch the disc and, as there was no game film, the why of it would remain open to debate. To many spectators, it seemed as if the Frisbee could easily have been caught; it was described on the sport’s internet newsgroup as “an inexplicable drop on an easy lay-out catch.” Parinella didn’t see it that way. In his mind, he made a tremendous effort but couldn’t quite make a “best catch of the game” grab. But a mistake could no longer could send Parinella into a funk. He had become a different player, a sloppier player perhaps, but a better one.

Parinella’s miscue was soon rendered moot. A Ring player dropped a difficult blade, and DoG quickly converted for the winning goal. Parinella felt his chest starting to heave. They had won, despite his fucking up, and part of what he felt was relief. But it wasn’t all relief. His emotional high had been tailing off, but now the whole surge of it came back strong again, washing over him. The rest of his teammates raced onto the field, losing themselves in an orgy of high fives, hugs, and victory hoots. After calming down a little, they went through the ritual of shaking hands with the vanquished Ring of Fire players, before setting to the serious business of beer drinking, reliving great plays, and basking.

***

The next day Boston would beat Seattle in the finals and find themselves partying again. In Ultimate, there is no locker room to which players retire, so the celebration occurs right on the field. This tradition, which is known as “the milling period,” or simply “the mill,” can last as long as two or three hours after the finals. Most of the fans are usually players from other teams, and, drinking beer, they try to forget about their team’s losses or their own poor plays, and join in the carnival spirit of the mill. For Boston, it was time for pure revelry, with no need to forget. DoG players sought out friends from other teams who had watched the game, basking in praise (and occasionally fishing for a few more compliments) and beginning the endless process of reliving their greatest plays and gravest errors.

Though more and more games were being filmed, Ultimate was still a sport remembered not by instant replay, but through the oral tradition, through the retelling of great plays and heroic feats, and already today’s tales were being spun. We may live in a country where it’s hard for people to imagine the concept of glory and achievement without national television or magazine coverage, but at that moment you couldn’t convince Jim Parinella that what he had gone through has been anything short of glorious.

“I wish I could describe exactly what was going through my head,” he said, thinking back to that surge during the semifinals comeback . “But I can’t…I can barely remember it. At the time, though, every action looked perfectly clear, every motion was exaggerated. I have never before in my life been in such a heightened state of awareness.”

* * *

I wrote the above pages in approximately the same mood in which Parinella played the semifinals. For a week, in an unwinterized attic room of a house on Cape Cod back in the cold spring 1998, I kept warm by typing around the clock, not just scenes of the DoG team playing but games remembered from my own years playing. I was full or fire and energy and wrote with a fluidity I had never felt before. Could it have been that during my twenty years playing Ultimate I hadn’t been a player so much as a spy, a sponge, a reporter? That my real job had been to take the stories from the game’s oral tradition and put them on the page? Whatever the case, it felt great to get what I remembered down on paper. I sent some sample pages to my agent who was also excited. And sure enough there was interest in the Ultimate book from New York publishers! I drove down to New York to attend meetings, thrilled to think that I would finally be published by a big press. From my journal, I know that my wife and I had less than fifty dollars in our joint bank account at the time.

It was close, my agent told me later, they almost took it. Why didn’t they, I asked. In the end, no publishers would buy the book, mostly because the marketers and publicists were afraid no one would know what Ultimate was. There it was again. Is that the thing you do with the dogs?

That was almost twenty years ago. It hurt, I won’t lie, and it took a while until I moved onto the next subject, the next book. It wouldn’t be until another eighteen years that I would return to writing about ultimate.

But while I remember well the sting of the moment, I also remember the joy of first discovering ultimate as an unexpected muse. Most of all I remember losing myself in the subject, and that is a feeling that I know Jim Parinella understands.

There was one other moment during that long-ago Finals that I took notes on but never wrote about. Sometime during the mill after that ’97 Finals, a player from another team, who himself was eliminated early in the tournament, teased Parinella about having dropped what could have been the final pass of the semis the day before. At first, Parinella felt tempted to rush to his own defense. But, in his state of near blissful calm, he stopped. He could handle the teasing. Let the snickerers snicker, the hecklers heckle, the nitpickers pick nits. The appropriate attitude toward those who had merely watched, Parinella decided as he sipped his beer, was not defensiveness, but pity. Pity the poor observers. After all, they had not been in it. They hadn’t experienced that overwhelming tribal sensation that Parinella would always remember. They had no way to comprehend what it was like to be part of that surging whole.

More info about Ultimate Glory:

Order Ultimate Glory by David Gessner here.

Book website: http://ift.tt/2roxxJL

Book trailer: http://ift.tt/2rD4Ypk

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