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SF's "Write Your Butt Off" II - Return of Writer's Block


Rapier
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SF's Write Your Butt Off! II Votals  

11 members have voted

  1. 1. Which submission will you vote for?

    • "The Heart of Dedication"
      0
    • "The Strength Within"
      5
    • "Simply a Hunter"
      0
    • "One More Time"
      3
    • "Perfected"
      2
    • "No One Is Iredeemable"
      0
    • "Going Forward"
      1

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  • Poll closed on 03/09/2019 at 10:00 PM

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so quick question is it okay if I make a few changes to my submission? Nothing too major just adding/tweaking a couple lines which would slightly improve it and also some grammatical errors I seemed to have found. 

Edited by Ottservia
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11 minutes ago, Ottservia said:

so quick question is it okay if I make a few changes to my submission? Nothing too major just adding/tweaking a couple lines which would slightly improve it and also some grammatical errors I seemed to have found. 

Since it's before the deadline, I see no reason why you couldn't do that.

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14 minutes ago, Ottservia said:

so quick question is it okay if I make a few changes to my submission? Nothing too major just adding/tweaking a couple lines which would slightly improve it and also some grammatical errors I seemed to have found. 

Sure! I do that all the time. lol I haven't edited my entry recently, but I did do so a couple times not long after I posted it.

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15 minutes ago, Anacybele said:

Sure! I do that all the time. lol I haven't edited my entry recently, but I did do so a couple times not long after I posted it.

17 minutes ago, DarthR0xas said:

Since it's before the deadline, I see no reason why you couldn't do that.

And it's done thanks guys.

 

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So, I really want to write something (especially after playing Hollow Knight) and I managed to think about a possible story, but it'd contain massive spoilers.

If I manage to find out how to write something that avoids spoilers, I'll try. Assuming I have an idea before the deadline.

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9 minutes ago, Rapier said:

So, I really want to write something (especially after playing Hollow Knight) and I managed to think about a possible story, but it'd contain massive spoilers.

If I manage to find out how to write something that avoids spoilers, I'll try. Assuming I have an idea before the deadline.

I say write it anyway spoilers be damned. If it’s what you want to write then write it. 

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So I actually wrote half of this the day after Chloey announced the theme. Then my wife went into labor and—yeah. Busy, busy, busy, busy. finally just got around to revisiting that half-finished story and filling it out today. Still a gotta do my proofreading, edits, and final touch-ups, but the piece itself is done. I’ll have something up by the deadline.

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2 minutes ago, Shoblongoo said:

So I actually wrote half of this the day after Chloey announced the theme. Then my wife went into labor and—yeah. Busy, busy, busy, busy. finally just got around to revisiting that half-finished story and filling it out today. Still a gotta do my proofreading, edits, and final touch-ups, but the piece itself is done. I’ll have something up by the deadline.

Ohh congratulations on the new addition!  I hope she and the little one are okay!

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2 minutes ago, Shoblongoo said:

So I actually wrote half of this the day after Chloey announced the theme. Then my wife went into labor and—yeah. Busy, busy, busy, busy. finally just got around to revisiting that half-finished story and filling it out today. Still a gotta do my proofreading, edits, and final touch-ups, but the piece itself is done. I’ll have something up by the deadline.

Well congratulations man. I hope you and your family are doing well. I eagerly look forward to whatever you decide to post.

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6 hours ago, Shoblongoo said:

So I actually wrote half of this the day after Chloey announced the theme. Then my wife went into labor and—yeah. Busy, busy, busy, busy. finally just got around to revisiting that half-finished story and filling it out today. Still a gotta do my proofreading, edits, and final touch-ups, but the piece itself is done. I’ll have something up by the deadline.

That's far better than my excuse.

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Thanks guys. 

...And I think that about does it...

TITLE:  Perfected
FANDOM: FE Tellius
Word Count: ~2,227
 

 


Shortly after Sothe met Micaiah, the duo would attempt to pull off their first heist.

It was simple enough in premise: The fortuneteller girl would use her “gifts” to charm some unsuspecting aristocrat; captivating him completely by speaking to his innermost thoughts and secret desires. The street urchin beneath his notice would rob him blind.  

An inelegant scheme to be sure. Crudely conceived and inexpertly woven by the minds of children, devoid of any moving pieces or nuanced complexities. 

Sothe had still managed to bungle his part so badly that it ended with a black eye, a discarded coin purse, and an impromptu escape through the knee-high shit and seepage of Nevassa’s sewers. (and nary a single item of value to show for it)

They were poorer, dirtier, and hungrier than when they had started. And it was his fault. 

“Its okay. Humans make mistakes,” she would tell him—not for the last time. “No one is perfect, after all, and life is messy at the best of times. So don't be too hard on yourself.”

No matter the mistake—and there were many—she was never cross with him. Always the same kindness. Always the same comfort. He would love her for it.   
 

Often, he had thought, she must have the patience of a saint to put up with him. For the Sothe that would return from the Mad King’s War was a hardened man of honed prowess; swift of blade and sound of judgment and steely of resolve.

But the Sothe who befriended a fortuneteller girl on the streets of Nevassa was very much a fumbling, accident-prone, boyish hothead.

____________________
 

Don’t be so hard on yourself. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes. Is that what you want me to tell you?" Greil challenged.   

Ike was visibly shaken after his first mission. 

They had done well enough to complete their orders and earn their pay. Still—the victory had not been a clean one.  

A village under siege by a roving gang of bandits had contracted the Greil Mercenaries to sally forth and “clear out” the ruffians. Their approach and execution had been uncharacteristically slow. For Ike, vigorously drilled though he was in the finer points of swordsmanship and surely well-prepared for his first fight, had not been instructed in more mundane skills of paced marching or forming ranks. The whole of the collected company moved at his pace.  

And so it was that a full quarter of the village had already been set ablaze before the first clash of swords. 

The battle itself was a one-sided rout; a sorry lot of slack-jawed misfits  proving little match for Greil’s protégées. But the thatched-roof cottages still burned. The charred bodies were still exhumed from the ashes. Husbands still wailed the loss of wives, and mothers the loss of children. 

…and it was his fault…

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Is that what he needed to hear? 

No one is perfect. 

We all make mistakes. 


*THWACK* Greil gave him a solid smack with his training sword. “Get those fool thoughts out of your head boy.” He would offer no such comfort. “Never let yourself grow comfortable with your mistakes. Learn from them.”

Ike never escaped the feeling he had blood on his hands. That the reason they didn't get there sooner--the ONLY reason they didn't get there sooner--was because he had slowed the advance. That if he had been just a little bit faster, those cottages wouldn’t have burned and those husbands would still have their wives and those mothers would still have their children.

But the very next day, he learned how to march. 
_____________________________________________________________

“CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT JERK!?” Sothe, for the first time in his life, had been well-and-thoroughly chewed out. 

The siege of Oliver’s Manse had been as fine a maneuver as any the Greil Mercenaries had ever pulled off, masterfully planned and flawlessly executed in the most meticulously coordinated strikes and counterstrikes…

…until Ike had given the order to loot the vaults…

…until a certain thief missed a certain boobytrap protecting a certain chest…

…until the forward advance was called off, and all available manpower was rerouted to search-and-rescue… 

Micaiah might have told him it was okay—most people wouldn’t have noticed the hidden tile. Fewer still would have noticed the runes. None but an experienced mage would have known they triggered burst area-of-effect teleportation magic. Its okay. Nobody is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes.  

Ike had reprimanded him in front of the full company, pulled him off of active duty, and demoted him to shadowing Volke. 

“He likes you,” Titania smirked.

“DID YOU EVEN HERE WHAT HE SAID TO ME!?”

“Was he wrong?” Titania had heard every word of it. 

“You guys always say he treats us like family.” this was legitimately confusing to Sothe. 

“Yes. Yes he does.” Titania agreed.

“But—all he ever does is point out all the mistakes I’m making and yell at me!”

“Maybe one day you’ll understand.” Titania explained it as best she could. “He does that because he thinks of you as part of the family.”   


For the longest time Sothe didn’t get it. He really didn’t. At first he didn’t even notice that the reason why Ike stopped chewing him out was because he stopped making stupid, boyish mistakes; he thought the mercenary leader had just warmed up to him and had a change of heart.  

Ike hadn’t changed. He had changed. It would be quite some time before Sothe notice just how much, and longer still until he appreciated the reason why.

“Maybe—he does like me?” Sothe ceded, eventually. “He stopped yelling at me.”

Titania chuckled at this.

“What?” Sothe blinked.

“I will tell you something,” Titania placed a motherly hand on his shoulder. “Remember this: comfort is a fine enough thing to offer freely. But one who offers only comfort is a false friend. It is those who correct you that truly care about you. They are willing to push you and upset you and possibly lose your friendship, rather than see you fail.”  
______________________________________

“Bad footing on the forward thrust. No leverage on the parry. I have your balance. No guard. You’re dead now.” Sothe called out the series of missteps in Edward’s attack as he caught the novice’s sword on the flat of a machete-sized  knife, knocked him off kilter, and pinned him with a blade to his throat. “Do it again.”

…Another sloppy advance… 

…another opening…

…a kick to the shin, a punch to the gut, another perfectly-controlled dagger just a hair’s breadth away from slitting the jugular… 

“AGAIN!”  Sothe shouted. 

…better this time…

…a well-balanced parry…

…too slow on the redirect…

…no guard on the second strike…

“No more—please!” Edward lowered his sword and tried to yield. Tears streamed down his face and blood welled up from a fresh cut. 

“Hmphhhh. Is that what you mean to say when Begnion knocks you down!?” Sothe’s answer was a roundhouse kick to the chest that knocked the boy clean off his feet and left him gasping for air. “These are the moves that will save your life when a real enemy is trying to kill you. If you can’t use them, you will die. DO IT AGAIN!!!”

“A word…Sothe…” Micaiah pulled him aside. “What are you doing?” She asked him, privately. Visibly annoyed.      

“Getting Edward over the hump,” Sothe had been there. Not so long ago to forget that one did not break on through to the other side without a bit of a push. 

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

“He learns it from me, or he learns it out in the field. Learning it out in the field is gonna be a whole lot worse for him than a few cuts and bruises.”

“You didn’t have to yell at him like that.”
 
“…You’re babying him…”

““Excuse me???”

“I said you’re babying him!”  The words came out harsher than Sothe had intended. And, perhaps, not without some measure of pent-up resentment. “You can’t just keep telling people everyone makes mistakes and nobody’s perfect and they shouldn’t be so hard on themselves no matter what they do. People need to be told when they’re screwing up, Micaiah! That’s how they learn to do better! That’s how they grow!”

“Oh…I see…this is about HIM again, isn’t it?” Micaiah didn’t need to be a mindreader to know what Sothe was thinking. But it helped.

“This has nothing to do with Commander Ike.”

Nothing to do with Ike?” Micaiah glowered with the impatience of a woman who knew she was being lied to.

It was unavoidable now. This wasn’t a fight that Sothe wanted to have wither her. But she was already in his head; seeing every thought. Digging through every memory. There was no point holding anything back.

“Okay. Fine. I’m teaching him the way they taught me. The way HE taught me. Was he wrong?” Sothe called her out.  “Should he have held my hand and told me what a good little boy I was? Should he have kept coddling me?”

“Is that what you think—that I coddled you!?” Again, the words came out harsher than intended. “You were a child—I wanted you to be happy! I wanted you to feel safe! I wanted you to know you had someone who would always care about you! How can you even say something that!?”

“…” 

“…” 

“…”

“…”

“…you…did always make me feel safe…” Sothe answered, finally. “But we were never safe—I know that now—we were always right on the edge. I was happy because you cared enough to never let me see how desperate things really were.”

“…Sothe…”

“That’s why I’ll always be with you,” Sothe promised her. “And I won’t tell you everything is okay. I won’t tell you everybody makes mistakes. If something’s wrong—you’ll know. You’ll hear it from me. But we’ll make it better. Together.”

“You…” Micaiah started. He’s changed so much. It was the first time they had ever argued. Not mere squabbling or tepid disagreements—real, heated argument.  It was the first time she had ever thought of him as something more than a baby brother. It was the first time the thought ever entered her mind that maybe—just maybe—he admired ‘Commander Ike’ more than he admired her. It was the first time thinking about him and how he saw her left her truly flustered.  “YOU BIG JERK!!!” Micaiah batted at him and stormed off in a huff.

…because he had changed so much… 

…because the changes were still new and confusing…

…because her feelings were still new and confusing…

…because he was right…

____________________________

Somewhere, somehow, something had gone horribly wrong.

They had been freedom fighters.

They had been saviors.

They had cast off the yoke of Begnion.

They had overcome old hatreds and made common cause with bird and beastmen to keep the dream alive.

They had been the hope for a better tomorrow to a bitter, broken people.

Micaiah washed blood and oil from her hands now. Blood of men who imagined her their savior, shed under bondage of the yoke they had imagined cast aside. Oil to douse the enemies of their enemies. To bring killing fire upon those who marched against the wickedness of the Begnion Senate.

...oil to burn everything she had once believed in...

She would have done it, too. It had been her idea. Her strategy. That was the worst part. 

The weight of the atrocity to be committed hadn’t stopped her. Nor the values she had held dear. Nor some sense of righteous indignation. Not even one last spark of defiance against her dark masters. No—her Order to stand down and disobey The Senate’s wishes and spare their advancing foes—this too had been an act of acquiescence.

Sothe limp in Tibarn’s clutch; The King of Hawks dangling him in midair, ready to drop him to his death. That was all. That threat of complete and utter loss. 

That was the reason why. That was the only reason why she hadn't gone through with it. 

Blood and oil came clean in soapy lather, but a deeper stain beneath could not be washed away. 

For Micaiah could not say what terrified her more: the thought of losing him. Or how she had poured the gas--ordered all men under her command to poor the gas--and how shockingly, despicably close she had come to lighting the fire. 

And one thought above all other plagued her.

Its my fault. All of it. This is  all my fault. 

Once more, she didn’t need to be a mindreader to know Sothe’s thoughts on the matter (though still it helped). And he too now didn’t need to be a mindreader to know hers.  

“Its okay,” he told her, comfortingly, with a great big hug. “You really didn’t do anything wrong.  We’re all doing the best we can here. That’s all we can do.”

“Nobody’s perfect?” She offered, feebly. 

“Nobody’s perfect,” he repeated. 

It wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t what he was thinking. But he cared enough to know that here-and-now, in this moment, it was what she needed to hear.

She loved him for it.   




 

 

Edited by Shoblongoo
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I'm gonna need @Rapier to double-check mine to make sure it's cool before I stick it up on here - it broaches a somewhat awkward subject and I need to make sure it doesn't break any rules. Anyone who wants can check for spelling and crap too, but it's not currently finished and I plan to spend most of tomorrow evening getting that done and brushing up anything that needs to. It will, however, make a little less sense to look at now than when I post it here and can give a bit of author's notes.

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10 hours ago, SoulWeaver said:

I'm gonna need @Rapier to double-check mine to make sure it's cool before I stick it up on here - it broaches a somewhat awkward subject and I need to make sure it doesn't break any rules. Anyone who wants can check for spelling and crap too, but it's not currently finished and I plan to spend most of tomorrow evening getting that done and brushing up anything that needs to. It will, however, make a little less sense to look at now than when I post it here and can give a bit of author's notes.

From what I've seen, it's fine. You can have mature themes while avoiding being graphical or direct about it. Unless I've read your prompt wrongly (I blame my lack of sleep), it's about premarital sex and how a character feels ashamed because of it. That's fair. What wouldn't be is, for example, if you describe them having sex or make any direct mention or description of smut.

It's how I interpret the "keep the theme on PG-13" rule, at the very least. My word isn't final. If the others disagree with it and would like to come up with a better interpretation, I'm ok with changing this for the next rounds. For now, I think your prompt is fine.

Actually, hold on. I'll reread it before judging.

Ok, it seems... fine to me? In any case, I'll need the final version of the prompt to judge, because your changes may be decisive later.

Edited by Rapier
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3 hours ago, Rapier said:

You can have mature themes while avoiding being graphical or direct about it...for example, if you describe them having sex or make any direct mention or description of smut.

It's how I interpret the "keep the theme on PG-13" rule

Yeah I'm on board with that.

Working with "mature themes" in a thoughtful and cleverly-presented way that goes right up to the line but doesn't cross it is actually something I would be inclined to reward with high praises + votes.

...Since if you can work adult themes cleverly and thoughtfully into your writing without being overtly offensive or smutty about it... 

Well now to me; that would certainly be strongly indicative of good writing. 

Edited by Shoblongoo
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9 hours ago, Rapier said:

Ok, it seems... fine to me? In any case, I'll need the final version of the prompt to judge, because your changes may be decisive later.

The only real alteration I'd be making in regards to that would be removing it altogether - I'm not terribly comfortable about the subject, especially not with writing stuff I'm sharing with other people, I just wasn't sure if the subject in general was fine or if I was pushing the line.

6 hours ago, Shoblongoo said:

...Since if you can work adult themes cleverly and thoughtfully into your writing without being overtly offensive or smutty about it... 
Well now to me; that would certainly be strongly indicative of good writing. 

Ah, dang, you're gonna make me hang your opinion on my talent as a writer on this? Wow, dude, no stress environment indeed, haha.

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Enticing though it was to try and make a Selena-Caeldori thing to go with our friend Otts' Severa work, this inspired me to actually get working on one of the more difficult parts of my own work. The idea for this piece is one I've had somewhat outlined in my head for quite a while, but the writing itself is definitely new.

TITLE: No One Is Irredeemable
WORD COUNT: 1730
SETTING: Original

Author's Notes(Can be read before reading story for extra character/story background info, or ignored to test the writing quality a little more):

Spoiler

Meredith and Chell are OCs of mine from an ongoing story that I'll probably never finish on account of being WAAAY too long. To bring all of you up to speed on what happened recently, the two were separated during their travels, and Meredith eventually met young Darren Fu'uren, a young man whose family has been targeted by the equivalent of the local mafia for unknown reasons. The two fall in love, but due to threats from the mob, nobody is willing to marry them, so Meredith basically just takes Darren's last name and says she's his wife and they start...doing husband-and-wife things, I guess. Somehow yonder gangs learns of this fact, and they get the local equivalent of a witch doctor to stick an evil spirit into Darren, forcing him to battle for control of his own body. Meredith attempts to help her husband, but Chell and the sisters' legal guardian, Shade, appear and take her with them before she can explain the situation. Upon Meredith and Chell's return, it's discovered that Darren appears to have been fully taken over by said spooky ghost, and he orders Chell locked up before she can try anything. Meredith intervenes, stating that as Darren is no longer in control of his body, the thing acting as Lord of the house is not Darren, and uses her own authority as Lady of the house to override the order, instead having Darren's body locked up until they can figure out how to fix him, if possible. Chell, having learned of the situation regarding their partnership, but not obtaining the entire story, locks herself into the room provided for her, intending to stay there until the time she can leave that world arrives. Couple days later, our entry begins...

 

Spoiler

Down the gilded halls of the extensive Fu’uren mansion, a girl could be seen, the speed of her stride indicative of a strong will that did not easily give up on an idea once fastened upon, yet the occasional slight slowing of her movement depicting a (likely unusual) hesitancy in her purpose.

The girl’s name, Chell - Michelle Sophia Morgan, if one wished to split hairs or was one of her parents, but to the world at large, Chell. This fact only important to the servants she passed due to her relationship with their masters - it was not every day that the sister of their Lady was brought to stay at the mansion for the first time.

These servants gave Chell a wide berth as she stalked down the halls, averting their gaze until she passed - the story of her arrival had quickly spread, with her verbal assault on their Lady and near physical assault on their Lord, and none of the servants wished to risk either event repeating itself with them. After she had passed, however, open stares followed her path - in the week following her arrival she had only been seen by four of the servants, and that only to ask them about certain basic needs, such as how to operate the old bath with its tricky quirks, where she could find food if needed, et cetera, and the servants who had yet to lay eyes upon their guest marveled at the difference between their Lady, with her wavy turquoise hair and elegant aura, and her sister, with dark hair tied in a ponytail and surrounding air of determination and power.

Eventually, Chell came to a stop outside the Master Bedroom of the mansion, where she stood for a long minute in front of the door, a magnificent piece of art all things considered, made of Tekai wood and coated with highly reflective Shrie lacquer to give it an almost mystical gleam, appearing from certain angles to radiate light.

Chell, however, seemed not to notice the door itself, looking more through it than at it. She stood for another minute, then raised her hand quickly to knock, only to pause, hand inches from the wood. Apparently torn, she held the pose for another twenty or so eternal seconds before drawing a breath, gritting her teeth, and gingerly knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Come in.”

A twitch of the polished knob, and Chell stood in the elegant, yet plain, Master Bedroom.

The Lady of the house, Meredith - Meredith Leaf Fu’uren, again, to split hairs or to her parents - stood, apparently surprised by her sister’s appearance.

“Chell? Is...is everything ok?”

Chell took a deep breath, avoiding her sister’s gaze.

“Meredith...I...I just wanted to say... this isn’t easy to admit, but...I...shouldn’t have...yelled at you like...look, you...you know how I am when someone throws a curveball at me, especially one like...well, like that...you know? So I thought...once I calmed down I thought I should come and...you know...apologize. And for trying to punch your...your...”

Chell struggled with the word for a moment, but Meredith saved her the trouble.

“It’s fine, Chell. Like I said, he...hasn’t been himself. For a long time. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“It’s not your fault, Mer, you said you’ve been trying to fix it. How...how long has he been like that?”

Meredith bit her lip.

“Since a little after I started wearing this pendant. While I was here, there was still some semblance of him in there, but then…”

“Shade and I showed up, took you, and ran.” Chell folded her arms, looking at the floor.

“Yes.”

“Eliminating the only person he would keep fighting it for.”

“...Yes.”

“...Why didn’t you tell us? You know we would have tried to help.”

“I didn’t…” Now Meredith was the one avoiding her sister’s gaze as she let the sentence trail off.

“Didn’t what? Want us to worry?” Chell shrugged. “I’m your freaking sister, Mer, gosh, it’s like my job to worry about you when Shade or your mom isn’t around to do it for me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…”

Meredith glanced at the master bed for a moment, and suddenly it clicked.

“You thought I’d go off if I found out you got knocked up.”

Meredith’s silence indicated her sister had caught the problem.

“Welp. I guess that wasn’t a...totally unfounded concern.” Chell sighed. “As I said, I don’t handle curveballs well.”

“...I was afraid you were going to kill him before I could explain what happened.” Meredith finally met Chell’s gaze. “I swear, Chell, we tried everything we could, but nobody with any authority would marry us, they were too afraid of being associated with Darren while he was being targeted like that.”

Chell looked out the window at the surrounding buildings. “...So you took matters into your own hands.”

“He...he didn’t want to risk it - if anyone found out, I’d be targeted too - but...it got to be...it was just...I couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t hard to get into his room without him knowing, so I waited for him to come get ready for bed, and when he came I said…”

Meredith seemed about to stop herself, but after a moment, perhaps figuring she’d come this far and might as well see it through, continued.

“I told him damn it all, I loved him and he loved me, and if nobody would marry us, to hell with them, we’d just do it ourselves and leave it to God to sort it out.”

“...Wow.” Both girls usually made it a point to keep their language as clean as possible, following their father’s example. Chell could see herself getting riled up enough to throw a couple dirty words around, but she didn’t think it possible to get Meredith to that point. “So he went along with it?”

“...Yes. He...he did ask me multiple times if this was what I really wanted first, explained to me what exactly I was putting at risk throwing my lot in with him, and other stuff like that, but in the end, he...went along with it.”

“...I see.” Chell turned back to her sister. “So...then what? If you thought I’d kill him before you could explain, why didn’t you tell me after we left? It’s not like I could have got to him before you and Shade could stop me.”

“The next day, I...I realized what I’d done. You remember how much dad stressed about that kind of thing, and then after you found me you told me how his family reacted when they found out what happened with us and Faith, before he could explain what happened.”

“...And that’s why you were never that interested in finding the way home.”

“How could I face him again, knowing what I’d done?” Tears threatened the corners of Meredith’s eyes as she continued, sitting down on the bed. “How could I tell him I failed him like that? He told me and Faith to be the best we could be for him until he could come back for us, and I...I threw it all away because I couldn’t be patient enough to just tough it out. You and Faith could do it, you could go back to dad with your heads high, you didn’t fall short, but...I just...couldn’t be...g-good enough...”

The pain became too much, and Meredith broke down, the ache of her failure piercing every sob that shook her shoulders. Words would do no good at the moment, so Chell sat by her sister and held her, letting Meredith cry into her shoulder until the tears finally stopped.

“...He wasn’t perfect either, you know.”

“Huh?” Meredith, wiping her eyes, looked at Chell as she leaned over to grab a handkerchief.

“Dad was the first to admit he was far from perfect. I doubt he’d really be that hard on you for being human.” Chell shrugged. “Maybe he hasn’t done anything like this, but...I mean, it’s like you said - let God sort it out. Grandma told me once about a concept called Cosmic Justice - basically, only God can dish true justice out, because he’s the only one who understands the exact circumstances, conditions, choices, etc., surrounding every ‘bad’ thing we do. Yeah, you’re right, waiting until marriage was a big thing we were taught, but if you literally couldn’t get married because nobody would marry the two of you, I’m not sure how someone’s supposed to condemn you for what happened - I mean, Adam and Eve didn’t have a preacher or a judge or whoever to make it legal, legal didn’t even really exist back then. For all we know, all this was God playing matchmaker for you two.”

“So...you think dad wouldn’t...be upset?”

“Upset and disappointed are different, Mer. I think he might be disappointed, yeah, but hey, he’d probably be just as disappointed with me for letting us get separated in the first place. Even so, there’s only ever gonna be one perfect life lived in all existence, and it sure isn’t either of us, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“...Ok…”

A knock on the door interrupted the sisters, followed by a young girl entering the room.

“Excuse me, m’lady, but dinner’s ready...?”

At the sight of Chell, the girl started and visibly paled. Meredith waved it off.

“Thanks, Bella, we’ll be down in a minute.”

Chell sighed as the girl nodded and hurriedly left.

“I’m not escaping that first impression anytime soon, am I?”

“I doubt it.” Meredith giggled despite herself. “I keep telling them they don’t need to be so formal about dinner, but, well...with things the way they are, they need something to keep them distracted.”

“True, but I’m not about to let it stay that way.”
“Huh?”

Chell stood, looking out at the nearby buildings once more.

“These freaks wanna mess around with my sister, they’ll have to learn the hard way you don’t fool around with a Star Child. Let’s go get some food, and then...”

Meredith couldn’t help but feel a chill at her sister’s sinister smile as Chell turned back to the door.

“We’re gonna get Faith, and then we’re gonna make these bastards pay for what they did to your husband.”

 

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Here is something I threw together real quick. I had to rework this a few times, I had the general idea going in but I kept cutting stuff down and rearranging things.

Title: Going Forward

Words: 2,197

Spoiler

Two spacecraft rushed side-by-side towards the Thermosphere.

One was a rocket, and in the rocket was a satellite, and in that satellite was crammed full of enough ordinance to wholly depopulate Kenya if it were used efficiently.

The other was a more habitable craft, a modifier commercial spacecraft which could hold ten people and be operated by one. Here it carried a crew of two, and two stowaways as well. Thankfully, the adjustments to the vehicle included a tougher hide and stabilizers, otherwise it might have been sent veering in some forsaken direction by the two-on-one occurring inside.

A hulking, steel-clad frame dunked an average looking man through a crate of pickle jars, then hurled him against a wall. Then man slid to the ground, but rather than have every bone in his body broken, the superhuman hero landed on his feet. Or at least, one foot and a knee. "Oof...you getting soft, Master Badness?" he rasped, standing up fully.

"It is you who will be soft, Master Goodness," boomed the encroaching cyborg. "After I tenderize you as is done with an expensive steak."
"Hah! Sorry, Master Badness. Steak's not on the menu tonight. Trevor, now!"

From behind an unsmashed wooden crate popped out a short man with a buzzcut. From a fiberglass crossbow he fired a bolt at the cyborg's back which burst into a flash of lightening, stunning her. This gave Master Goodness just enough time to dart past her, towards a laser turret which would have been used to shoot down interfering agents like him. By the time he was there, Master Badness had already recovered from the shot, and turned to charge at her primary adversary.

He didn't have much time to aim; Master Goodness went with his gut and fired at the weapon loaded rocket.

He was yanked out of the seat seconds later, but not before he could see if his aim was true. It wasn't a direct hit, but it looked like it was enough. The Bad Brigade's first assault satellite had been taken out of commission, and the world had been saved from whatever tyranny they might use it for.

Master Badness beheld this as well, and a shrill scream echoed from behind her metallic mask. "You good for nothing Good Guy Group do-gooders! If I was merely going to tear you apart before, but now I'll blend you like protein powder! I'll pulverize you as is done with a strawberry put in a protein shake with protein powder! I will- stop ignoring me!" There was a time it would have wounded her to see her 'dear' rival staring dumbly out a window while she threatened him, but those early days of their battles and her pure, imperfect humanity were gone. Now it merely frustrated her.
Still, she was at least a little curious to see what had grabbed his attention, and so glanced out the window. Whatever Master Goodness had taken out in her rocket, it had quite messed with its trajectory, and sent it hurtling towards the Earth. She saw a tiny little light linger on the globe for a second, and then die away.
"Oh," she gasped. "That...was Detroit."

Though Master Goodness did not possess a cybernetic brain capable of calculating exactly where those Kenyan-exterminating explosives had landed, he did know roughly where on the map Detroit was, and that it was roughly were the rocket had careened into the Earth's surface. Detroit and its half a million people, instantaneously vaporized.

He didn't say anything.
He just slumped down from the window, onto his knees, and stayed there. Blankly staring at the wall.

Master Badness looked over at him. It was...rather sad, actually. Cautiously, she stepped towards him, and did have to admit to herself that her metal cyborg steps were not as quiet as the ones she used to have, but they still didn't seem to stir her opponent.

"Uh...hello?"
There was a grunt.
"Are you alright, Master Goodness?"
"No..."

Trevor peered at them from behind his crate and froze. Master Badness raised her fist, ready to pummel her mortal enemy into pulp. "MG, look out!" he shouted.
The mechanical villain swiftly fired a needle from her arm, which pinned Trevor's Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt to another crate behind him. "Ah, God-bless it," he grumbled.

Master Goodness did not move so quickly. When Master Badness through the needle, he did jerk his head to see that Trevor was alright, and after that, went back to stunned drooping, as if his foe was no longer there. Perhaps it was because it had been caused by chance and not by her, but Master Badness didn't find having her mortal enemy totally humbled and in a completely vulnerable position nearly as satisfying as she thought it would be. "Master Goodness, please. It was an accident- it wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was!" he snapped with a very tense voice, which broke into a series of sobs. "I...I shot that down...it is my fault!"
The cyborg sighed; She couldn't believe she was doing this. "Come on now, Robert. Humans make mistakes...no one is perfect after all, and life is messy at the best of times. So don't be too hard on yourself. You acted with the very best intentions-"
"I got everyone in Detroit killed..."
"...well, at least you didn't kill everyone in Detroit-"
The sobs grew a bit louder.

From above came the sound of a hatch opening, and Master Badness turned to see a man in a polo shirt pop his head from the above floor, for the vehicle was quite vertical and boasted many floors. "Hah!" the man grinned. "Good going, boss! I was figuring they'd escape or blow up our satellite or something-"
"They did blow up our satellite, Scott."
"What?"
"It crashed and destroyed Detroit."
"Oh, no, not Detroit! Not only do they destroy our satellite, but they gotta go and waste all our perfectly good ordinance on a city that was practically already destroyed?"
"That's not funny, Scott."
"...that wasn't a joke," said Scott, very seriously.

Master Badness sighed and looked back down as Master Goodness, picked him up by the nape of his shirt, then walked over and did the same to Trevor.

"So," Scott called coyly. "Are you going to kill them now?"
"I am going to throw them in the brig, as is done with prisoners."
"The brig?" gasped Scott.
"Do you think you know of a more suitable location in which to place them, human?"
"Yeah; the airlock. Why not just kill them now?"
"Scott, no. We have more decency than that."
"The demonstration we were planning was going to kill, like, at least a few dozen people."
"I thought you were a pilot, not an executioner."
"But, Master Badness, it's just two guys. That's not of blood on our hands in the grand scope of things."
"I think the quota has been surpassed for today, Scott."
"But-"
"No more Scott. Go back to the cockpit."
Scott mumbled some profanities and shut the hatch behind him.

***

Master Badness dropped her two disarmed captives in a little white room, whose front wall was a giant window. Master Goodness was still quite torn up, and so his captor decided it would only be fair to afford her prisoner some comforts. She would never had attempted to unleash such a massacre, only convincingly threaten it, and so for Master Goodness, who seemed to always pile the weight of the world onto his shoulders, she imaged this was quite hard. Therefore, she decided, she would provide her prisoners with what carnal pleasures she recalled having been fond of.

"There are some self help books in the corner," she explained, "and some lucky charms in the other corner, the kind which is only marshmallows. I'll..." She was going to say that she would kill them tomorrow, but wasn't quite sure about that herself. She shut the sliding door to the cell, locked it, and then left.

The two heroes sat in silence, one in the fetal position and the other trying to wipe away the sweat which soaked his brow. "Okay," said Trevor, standing up from the clump which he'd been tossed into. "Right. So. Escaping. We should get to work on that. Any ideas, MG?"
"No..."
Trevor looked down at his fearless leader. "Hey, Master Goodness, come on. We gotta get outta here. They're probably going to make another satellite, we gotta, you know, stop that."
"I don't know, I don't know. I don't think that worked out so well this time."
"True," admitted Trevor, "we'll just...have to not repeat the same mistake going forward."
"Let's not go forward."
"I'm sorry?"
"I...I don't feel like I should make any more trouble for people..."
"Come on, MG, didn't you here M-" Trevor stopped himself, sighed, and continued. "Master Badness had a point. It was accidental-"
"Terrible, too," Master Goodness moaned. He slowly pulled himself up and trudged towards the corner.

"You're eating cereal?" Trevor exclaimed.
"I figure I can't mess that up too badly." Master Goodness poured milk into his bowl.
"How can you eat cereal at a time like this? We've been captured!"
"Yeah...I know," Master Goodness started shoveling marshmallows into his mouth. He chewed. He swallowed. "Maybe that's okay. I mean...you heard Scott. They would have caused less damage if we hadn't..." He stopped and ate more Lucky Charms.
"Oh my God-" Trevor groaned, "who is in Heaven and holy, help me. How can you even eat that? It's pure sugar, you need the brown bits in the cereal to make it palpable- why am I even talking about this?"
"I'm just saying," Master Goodness shrugged between bites.
"Alright, sure, we've had trouble with damage control in the past-"
"Not like this."
"No, not like this, admittedly this was pretty bad, but...like...we still have to keep going!"

Master Goodness shook his head.

"Come on MG, they aren't going to hold us forever. You heard Scott. Eventually he's going to get his way. Heck, Master Badness will probably realize what a prime opportunity she's in and kill us tomorrow!"
"I'm sure they'd let you go."
"What about- oh, no, no, Master Goodness, please. Don't be like that. You've done plenty of good for the world-"
"I also destroyed Detroit."
"It was an accident! Yes, a horrible one, but it wasn't your fault. It's no reason to stop stopping evil."
"...I'll think about, Trevor."
"We don't have time for thinking, we have to act now!"

Master Goodness poured another bowl.

"Master Goodness! Get a hold of yourself!" Trevor stomped over. "You can't keep drowning your sorrows in Lucky Charms!"

Master Goodness continued to do exactly that.

Trevor stomped his foot a few times. He huffed a very serious huff. "Alright, look here MG, I'm going to be real straight with you."
Master Goodness kept his eyes on his food.

Trevor nearly smacked the bowl out of his hands, but then there'd be mess and-
"You screwed up," he said plainly. "Accident or no, you didn't do as well as you could have, maybe even as well as you should have. But you can't go back in time and change that. The only thing you can do is better going forward. Master Badness is going to try and hurt other people, we know that from experience. We have an obligation to protect them from her like we protect people before them. 'We' includes 'you,' do you understand?"

Trevor sighed a grumpy sigh. He could tell his boss was crying a little bit more now. Maybe that meant he was getting through to him?

"You've made a mistake. People died. Go ahead and cry. Mourn. Feel sorry for yourself. But you should feel a hell of lot more sorry if you let people get hurt because you're too busy wallowing in self pity to protect them. So instead of letting yourself get killed and leaving them without any help, why don't you stop being a selfish bastard and save your tears for when lives aren't on the line?" Trevor exhaled deeply. That seemed harsher now that it was out of his system, but he kept his face stern.

Master Goodness turned to him, slouching, so that he had to look at him for once. "They're not planning anything now," he said hoarsely.

Trevor shook his head. "If they kill us soon, then they'll have all the time in the world for planning."

Master Goodness raised a spoon of sugary breakfast to his mouth, and stopped just shy of his lips. He looked up at his comrade, who stood straight, whose eyes were bold and ready. "I..." He placed the bowl down. "I guess you're right." He straightened his back, wiped away a few tears, and got patted on the back by his smiling cellmate.

"That's more like it," said Trevor.
"Thanks for, uh, 'speaking straight' with me."
"Any time. So, any idea how we get out of this darn place?"

Master Goodness glanced around their cell. It had two tables, one for cereal and one for books, a little rug, but was otherwise all plain white plastic.

Unless-

"Well, I have at least...one idea so far."

 

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6 minutes ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

Here is something I threw together real quick. I had to rework this a few times, I had the general idea going in but I kept cutting stuff down and rearranging things.

Title: Going Forward

Words: 2,197

  Reveal hidden contents

Two spacecraft rushed side-by-side towards the Thermosphere.

One was a rocket, and in the rocket was a satellite, and in that satellite was crammed full of enough ordinance to wholly depopulate Kenya if it were used efficiently.

The other was a more habitable craft, a modifier commercial spacecraft which could hold ten people and be operated by one. Here it carried a crew of two, and two stowaways as well. Thankfully, the adjustments to the vehicle included a tougher hide and stabilizers, otherwise it might have been sent veering in some forsaken direction by the two-on-one occurring inside.

A hulking, steel-clad frame dunked an average looking man through a crate of pickle jars, then hurled him against a wall. Then man slid to the ground, but rather than have every bone in his body broken, the superhuman hero landed on his feet. Or at least, one foot and a knee. "Oof...you getting soft, Master Badness?" he rasped, standing up fully.

"It is you who will be soft, Master Goodness," boomed the encroaching cyborg. "After I tenderize you as is done with an expensive steak."
"Hah! Sorry, Master Badness. Steak's not on the menu tonight. Trevor, now!"

From behind an unsmashed wooden crate popped out a short man with a buzzcut. From a fiberglass crossbow he fired a bolt at the cyborg's back which burst into a flash of lightening, stunning her. This gave Master Goodness just enough time to dart past her, towards a laser turret which would have been used to shoot down interfering agents like him. By the time he was there, Master Badness had already recovered from the shot, and turned to charge at her primary adversary.

He didn't have much time to aim; Master Goodness went with his gut and fired at the weapon loaded rocket.

He was yanked out of the seat seconds later, but not before he could see if his aim was true. It wasn't a direct hit, but it looked like it was enough. The Bad Brigade's first assault satellite had been taken out of commission, and the world had been saved from whatever tyranny they might use it for.

Master Badness beheld this as well, and a shrill scream echoed from behind her metallic mask. "You good for nothing Good Guy Group do-gooders! If I was merely going to tear you apart before, but now I'll blend you like protein powder! I'll pulverize you as is done with a strawberry put in a protein shake with protein powder! I will- stop ignoring me!" There was a time it would have wounded her to see her 'dear' rival staring dumbly out a window while she threatened him, but those early days of their battles and her pure, imperfect humanity were gone. Now it merely frustrated her.
Still, she was at least a little curious to see what had grabbed his attention, and so glanced out the window. Whatever Master Goodness had taken out in her rocket, it had quite messed with its trajectory, and sent it hurtling towards the Earth. She saw a tiny little light linger on the globe for a second, and then die away.
"Oh," she gasped. "That...was Detroit."

Though Master Goodness did not possess a cybernetic brain capable of calculating exactly where those Kenyan-exterminating explosives had landed, he did know roughly where on the map Detroit was, and that it was roughly were the rocket had careened into the Earth's surface. Detroit and its half a million people, instantaneously vaporized.

He didn't say anything.
He just slumped down from the window, onto his knees, and stayed there. Blankly staring at the wall.

Master Badness looked over at him. It was...rather sad, actually. Cautiously, she stepped towards him, and did have to admit to herself that her metal cyborg steps were not as quiet as the ones she used to have, but they still didn't seem to stir her opponent.

"Uh...hello?"
There was a grunt.
"Are you alright, Master Goodness?"
"No..."

Trevor peered at them from behind his crate and froze. Master Badness raised her fist, ready to pummel her mortal enemy into pulp. "MG, look out!" he shouted.
The mechanical villain swiftly fired a needle from her arm, which pinned Trevor's Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt to another crate behind him. "Ah, God-bless it," he grumbled.

Master Goodness did not move so quickly. When Master Badness through the needle, he did jerk his head to see that Trevor was alright, and after that, went back to stunned drooping, as if his foe was no longer there. Perhaps it was because it had been caused by chance and not by her, but Master Badness didn't find having her mortal enemy totally humbled and in a completely vulnerable position nearly as satisfying as she thought it would be. "Master Goodness, please. It was an accident- it wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was!" he snapped with a very tense voice, which broke into a series of sobs. "I...I shot that down...it is my fault!"
The cyborg sighed; She couldn't believe she was doing this. "Come on now, Robert. Humans make mistakes...no one is perfect after all, and life is messy at the best of times. So don't be too hard on yourself. You acted with the very best intentions-"
"I got everyone in Detroit killed..."
"...well, at least you didn't kill everyone in Detroit-"
The sobs grew a bit louder.

From above came the sound of a hatch opening, and Master Badness turned to see a man in a polo shirt pop his head from the above floor, for the vehicle was quite vertical and boasted many floors. "Hah!" the man grinned. "Good going, boss! I was figuring they'd escape or blow up our satellite or something-"
"They did blow up our satellite, Scott."
"What?"
"It crashed and destroyed Detroit."
"Oh, no, not Detroit! Not only do they destroy our satellite, but they gotta go and waste all our perfectly good ordinance on a city that was practically already destroyed?"
"That's not funny, Scott."
"...that wasn't a joke," said Scott, very seriously.

Master Badness sighed and looked back down as Master Goodness, picked him up by the nape of his shirt, then walked over and did the same to Trevor.

"So," Scott called coyly. "Are you going to kill them now?"
"I am going to throw them in the brig, as is done with prisoners."
"The brig?" gasped Scott.
"Do you think you know of a more suitable location in which to place them, human?"
"Yeah; the airlock. Why not just kill them now?"
"Scott, no. We have more decency than that."
"The demonstration we were planning was going to kill, like, at least a few dozen people."
"I thought you were a pilot, not an executioner."
"But, Master Badness, it's just two guys. That's not of blood on our hands in the grand scope of things."
"I think the quota has been surpassed for today, Scott."
"But-"
"No more Scott. Go back to the cockpit."
Scott mumbled some profanities and shut the hatch behind him.

***

Master Badness dropped her two disarmed captives in a little white room, whose front wall was a giant window. Master Goodness was still quite torn up, and so his captor decided it would only be fair to afford her prisoner some comforts. She would never had attempted to unleash such a massacre, only convincingly threaten it, and so for Master Goodness, who seemed to always pile the weight of the world onto his shoulders, she imaged this was quite hard. Therefore, she decided, she would provide her prisoners with what carnal pleasures she recalled having been fond of.

"There are some self help books in the corner," she explained, "and some lucky charms in the other corner, the kind which is only marshmallows. I'll..." She was going to say that she would kill them tomorrow, but wasn't quite sure about that herself. She shut the sliding door to the cell, locked it, and then left.

The two heroes sat in silence, one in the fetal position and the other trying to wipe away the sweat which soaked his brow. "Okay," said Trevor, standing up from the clump which he'd been tossed into. "Right. So. Escaping. We should get to work on that. Any ideas, MG?"
"No..."
Trevor looked down at his fearless leader. "Hey, Master Goodness, come on. We gotta get outta here. They're probably going to make another satellite, we gotta, you know, stop that."
"I don't know, I don't know. I don't think that worked out so well this time."
"True," admitted Trevor, "we'll just...have to not repeat the same mistake going forward."
"Let's not go forward."
"I'm sorry?"
"I...I don't feel like I should make any more trouble for people..."
"Come on, MG, didn't you here M-" Trevor stopped himself, sighed, and continued. "Master Badness had a point. It was accidental-"
"Terrible, too," Master Goodness moaned. He slowly pulled himself up and trudged towards the corner.

"You're eating cereal?" Trevor exclaimed.
"I figure I can't mess that up too badly." Master Goodness poured milk into his bowl.
"How can you eat cereal at a time like this? We've been captured!"
"Yeah...I know," Master Goodness started shoveling marshmallows into his mouth. He chewed. He swallowed. "Maybe that's okay. I mean...you heard Scott. They would have caused less damage if we hadn't..." He stopped and ate more Lucky Charms.
"Oh my God-" Trevor groaned, "who is in Heaven and holy, help me. How can you even eat that? It's pure sugar, you need the brown bits in the cereal to make it palpable- why am I even talking about this?"
"I'm just saying," Master Goodness shrugged between bites.
"Alright, sure, we've had trouble with damage control in the past-"
"Not like this."
"No, not like this, admittedly this was pretty bad, but...like...we still have to keep going!"

Master Goodness shook his head.

"Come on MG, they aren't going to hold us forever. You heard Scott. Eventually he's going to get his way. Heck, Master Badness will probably realize what a prime opportunity she's in and kill us tomorrow!"
"I'm sure they'd let you go."
"What about- oh, no, no, Master Goodness, please. Don't be like that. You've done plenty of good for the world-"
"I also destroyed Detroit."
"It was an accident! Yes, a horrible one, but it wasn't your fault. It's no reason to stop stopping evil."
"...I'll think about, Trevor."
"We don't have time for thinking, we have to act now!"

Master Goodness poured another bowl.

"Master Goodness! Get a hold of yourself!" Trevor stomped over. "You can't keep drowning your sorrows in Lucky Charms!"

Master Goodness continued to do exactly that.

Trevor stomped his foot a few times. He huffed a very serious huff. "Alright, look here MG, I'm going to be real straight with you."
Master Goodness kept his eyes on his food.

Trevor nearly smacked the bowl out of his hands, but then there'd be mess and-
"You screwed up," he said plainly. "Accident or no, you didn't do as well as you could have, maybe even as well as you should have. But you can't go back in time and change that. The only thing you can do is better going forward. Master Badness is going to try and hurt other people, we know that from experience. We have an obligation to protect them from her like we protect people before them. 'We' includes 'you,' do you understand?"

Trevor sighed a grumpy sigh. He could tell his boss was crying a little bit more now. Maybe that meant he was getting through to him?

"You've made a mistake. People died. Go ahead and cry. Mourn. Feel sorry for yourself. But you should feel a hell of lot more sorry if you let people get hurt because you're too busy wallowing in self pity to protect them. So instead of letting yourself get killed and leaving them without any help, why don't you stop being a selfish bastard and save your tears for when lives aren't on the line?" Trevor exhaled deeply. That seemed harsher now that it was out of his system, but he kept his face stern.

Master Goodness turned to him, slouching, so that he had to look at him for once. "They're not planning anything now," he said hoarsely.

Trevor shook his head. "If they kill us soon, then they'll have all the time in the world for planning."

Master Goodness raised a spoon of sugary breakfast to his mouth, and stopped just shy of his lips. He looked up at his comrade, who stood straight, whose eyes were bold and ready. "I..." He placed the bowl down. "I guess you're right." He straightened his back, wiped away a few tears, and got patted on the back by his smiling cellmate.

"That's more like it," said Trevor.
"Thanks for, uh, 'speaking straight' with me."
"Any time. So, any idea how we get out of this darn place?"

Master Goodness glanced around their cell. It had two tables, one for cereal and one for books, a little rug, but was otherwise all plain white plastic.

Unless-

"Well, I have at least...one idea so far."

 

Interesting XD

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