SEAN DUGGAN IS LEAVING! *urp!*
from Jaya Mitai

---

Mitai here. This was the response in the IRC chatroom to the news of Sean Duggan leaving the OTL list, and it inspired me (and several others) to write this. Couldn't have done it without them. Some creative liberty occurred, and any resemblance to a person, alive or dead, is purely non-coincidental.

 

The news hit the SubCafe like a freight train of dynamite. All conversations died with the single sentence.

Samy_M sniffed, stood, and spoke. "Sean Duggan is leaving!"

The flurry that followed those words was much like that of Norad finding an incoming nuke.

Indigo startled out of her reverie. "Sean? Leaving where?"

Nute jumped to his feet and whirled to stare at Samy. "WHAT?! My best feedbacker?"

Samy_M nodded and stared at the sudden quiet CafŽ. "I think we should do something for Sean. Write a special collaborative fic for Sean. Sean’s such a great reader. He’s been as valuable as gold to me at times."

Mitai, newcomer to the CafŽ, spoke up. "Sean is my best feedbacker yet. Always has a suggestion that’s well worth taking, and makes me feel gooey and fudgey inside. He must not be allowed to escape!" Thought the last was said jokingly, it was obvious to the many occupants in the CafŽ that she meant every word.

Kaylee blinked, finally jump-starting herself from the shock. "Sean’s leaving?" NOOO!" Her grief-stricken howl sounded like a dragon keening in despair.

Beverly McIntyre sniffled. "No! Sean CAN’T leave!"

Samy noted the general apathy and long faces that he had caused of a sudden. He looked at his feet, then his voice rose above the dull mutter of voices, strongly. "I suggest we make a collage of thank you notes, or something." Beverly quickly agreed, as did most of the others in the CafŽ.

Sabre^ was cooking something in the back, uncharacteristically quiet, but her voice floated softly from the kitchen. "How about sending him a copy of everyone’s horror of his departure here?"

Mitai jumped up. "Hey! Why don’t we write an SB where all the authors refuse to let him leave! We can send it to him and ask permission to post it to OTL."

While Samy_M offered to collect various scratching of authors in the way of praise and thanks, Mitai sat down at her computer and started typing quickly. Something occurred to her.

"Guys? Do I have permission to use you?"

A voice floated from the kitchen. "Have my rate sheet?" Definite teasing lilt. "Of course."

Samy_M tried also for the joke. "Only if you have me announce his leaving and be one of the staunchest mourners."

Indigo was nearly speechless, but managed a nod. "Sure."

Foenix nodded from the safe corner of the CafŽ. "If you can add me in."

Bev was by her side in an instant. "Why most certainly."

Nute nodded from his beer and ponderings. "Oh," he said in an offhand way, "Feel free."

Redhawk nodded quickly. "Ah. I can dig that. Sure. If you’re doing the Subreality thing, remember, I’m a Trog."

And so Mitai set out to write the SC where this was to take place.

The CafŽ was abustle with the activity of the night. For once, the Bouncer had been threatened into having Writer’s Night when there shouldn’t have been, and would likely carry the scars until someone else wrote him. Mitai had not left the battle unscathed, though Kielle assured her that he let her win. Mitai had no choice but to believe that Kielle had told her the truth, and later the two were seen singing scenes from Les Miserables and drinking vintage Biltmore Zinfandel. The Bouncer had a magnificent contrabass voice, managing to do a Valjean quite well – for the first and second bottles.

Samy_M was there, looking sadder than usual, trying so hard to be jovial that it looked as though he was going to blow a capillary. If anyone asked him what was wrong, he responded with a mutter, or perhaps a half muffled sob. Knowing the general mood of a slightly drunk Samy_M, most attributed that to something that had happened IRL, and left him to his thoughts, tears, and whatever alcoholic beverages Mitai had allowed.

Beer, of course, had been nowhere to be seen, but after Dex AND Nute had appeared, she realized that very shortly she’s have a small lynch mob coming her way, and so Mitai had allowed the nasty stuff. Being the writer of this SC definitely had its perks, even if she DIDN’T know who or what her muse was.

Beverly McIntyre was lounging with some kind of iced chocolate coffee, talking amiably with Indigo and Kaylee, who was trying to go to sleep and failing miserably. A Trog by the name of Redhawk was shuffling around looking for some pleasant company, and Sabre^, perhaps in an attempt to get away from the roving troglydite, was cooking something in the kitchen. No one had yet complained of smoke or passed out from noxious fumes, and all were curious.

It came as sort of a surprise when Samy_M, tears coursing down his cheeks, stood on the bar and banged several beer steins together loudly enough to shatter them. The lighting of the old-fashioned wood tavern was strange, and in the smoky atmosphere he seemed almost ethereal. He looked slightly apologetic, and was clearly stuck on whether to apologize first for breaking the glasses, or give his news. Slightly tipsy as he was, his news came out in a meek, humble, piteous little apologetic wail.

"Sean Duggan is leaving!"

The word ‘leaving’ became a long, drawn out, whining sob, and the Manager had to come down to get the heartbroken Samy off the bar. The CafŽ was silent for a few moments, every patron still, so that even the Bouncer stuck his bruised head inside, looking for perhaps a dead Writer.

Then Indigo blinked, opened her mouth, and uttered, almost without moving her lips, "Sean? Leaving where?" The where came out slightly garbled.

Nute leap to the top of the table, somehow having gotten the spirit of the Les Miserables being sung outside and rather fancying that he was a revolutionary in a French civil war.

"WHAT? My besht feedbackerer?"

Samy nodded sagely, scrambling back onto the bar, his tears gone in a smile of pure inspiration. The look very small infants get when they’ve left Mommy and Daddy a present in their diaper.

"I think we should do something for Sean." He almost fell off the bar when the wide sweeping of his arm played havoc with his careful balance. The Manager grabbed his ankles and looked around speculatively for help, as Samy continued. "Write a special collaborative fic for Sean. Sean’s such a great reader. He’s been as valuable as gold to me at times."

Mitai ducked her head in shortly after the Bouncer had, and with a rather large clack. She now stared at Samy in a mixture of horror and wonder, with slight irritation at having been interrupted.. "Sean is my best feedbacker yet. Always has a suggestion that’s well worth taking, and makes me feel gooey and fudgey inside. He must not be allowed to escape!" With the last sentence she stormed all the way inside, dressed in black skintight something-other-than-spandex, wielding two swords, strapped to her back, and various pockets for shuriken, poison, and other, equally fatal equipment. Much more stylish than Scalphunter’s outfit.

Matt grinned at the cause to be seized, but noticed suddenly that his beer was all gone. Blinking, he got off the table and ambled for the tap, shaking his head and mumbling something about French feedbackers.

Upon the spotting of Mitai, Kaylee was shocked out of the stupor she’d fallen in, between listening to Beverly for more than ten minutes, sheer exhaustion, and Samy’s news. In other words, she was lagged, in the most horrible connotation of the word.

"Sean’s leaving? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"

Mitai was quite impressed by her ability to hold out such a grief-stricken sound without pause. "Breathe, Jaya. Breathe."

"-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"

Kaylee coughed as a particle floating in the air found its way to her tender throat and settled comfortably against the wall of her trachea, tickling her.

Foenix smiled, and tucked away the laptop.

Outside, they heard the answering, long, lonely howl answered by wolves, raccoons, elk, bears, and a shrill scream like crystalline. Even the Bouncer looked startled.

Beverly sobbed openly as she poured iced coffee down the struggling Kaylee’s throat. "NO! Sean CAN’T leave!" Kaylee, now choking, nodded in agreement, before spewing iced coffee everywhere and trying to breathe. Bev looked at the concoction ruefully, and immediately ordered another.

Samy_M, realizing his status as head mourner was about to be usurped, rambled on with the same gassy smile. "I suggest we make a collage of thank you notes, or something." He urped, and the smile vanished. The Manager, still grasping his ankles, sighed in relief.

Sabre^, having been silent thus far, came out of the kitchen with soot all over her face and wiping her hands on the filthiest towel anyone had ever seen. She brought with her the barest whiff of something wonderful. "How about sending him a copy of everyone’s horror of his departure here?"

The idea went over quite well, and an urgent call from the Cook send Sabre^ scurrying back in before anyone was sober enough to give her a definitive reply.

Mitai, still rubbing the bump on her and the Bouncer’s head, spoke in her absence. "Hey! Why don’t we write an SC where all the authors refuse to let him leave! We can send it to him and ask permission to post it to OTL."

The idea went over quite well, and Mitai bent over the laptop of the Foenix and began her tale.

 

"Once upon a time there was a CafŽ that existed in Subreality. And all these writers were in it. And there was no TAPSLAUGHT, and it was good.

Then, into this utopia, word spread that one of the most favored, respected, adored, loved, cherished, worshipped, honored, valuable, esteemed, praiseworthy, highly regarded, precious, revered, distinguished, venerable, celebrated members of their tight happy community was about to leave, for mere PERSONAL reasons.

This was unacceptable. Armed with the sharpest weapons of the imagination, rope, duct tape, and torches, the mass left Subreality and went to find the highly respected Sean Duggan. When they did, they threatened to take all his hair off with the duct tape, tie him to a tree, flay him, and set him on fire if he didn’t agree to come back and keep being wonderful.

Faced with such dire consequences, he quickly agreed, and they all lived happily ever after.

Mitai grinned, and forwarded the story to Sean Duggan, where he would undoubtedly pick up on the insinuated threat of her fairy tale, since he was so very perceptive, and she so very tactful in stating it.

 

Okay – disclaimers. Subreality belongs to Kielle and various others. Every quote in this was heard on IRC and taken with the permission of those that participated. Is also word-for-word what was said. Those labeled belonged to themselves. The Manager, Bartender, and Bouncer belong to the Subreality CafŽ. I sent this to Sean to beta for me =) but was informed he was backlogged, so this is done without his blessing. PLEASE DON’T GO!!!!

::Mitai offers gooey fudgey brownies of placation::

 

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