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niqhtlord01 · 4 years

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Humans are weird: Torture

Darkness......... That was the last thing High Matriarch Helvaka could remember, the last thing that seemed to define her reality at the moment that without which she would have considered her whole predicament ludicrous. She remembered being aboard her flagship, the Juvien Wave. She remembered her fleet orbiting a planet her commanders assured her would fall by days end. She remembered the sight of a thousand Gloven warships in stationary orbit and her chest swelling with pride. She remembered the first energy lance from the planet’s surface.....she remembered the sight of the cruiser next to her ship being split in two....she remembered the sounds of sirens and the wailing of alarms as more and more energy lances fired upwards and tore into their fleet........she remembered the sudden loss of stabilizers and the sensation of falling as her flagship, the pride of the Gloven Empire, was pulled downwards by the planets gravity and then......nothing. When Helvaka awoke she was no longer onboard her vessel. Her mind drifted in and out of consciousness regularly but when she was awake enough to observe her surroundings she saw a white room with windows overlooking a collection of plant life. She could feel things inside her too; dull things that pierced her skin and clamps of some sort that held her limbs in place. Each time she awoke from the depths of her mind she tried to gain more and more information of where she was before the darkness consumed her. Strange creatures, humans most likely, stood in corners of the room at times or would be next to her looking at machines whose cables clung to her. Sometimes they wore white uniforms, sometimes they wore dull grey ones. The ones in the corners she could tell were soldiers observing her. Though she couldn’t make out their details, she knew the bearing of a warrior when she saw it and with the metallic object they kept clutched in their arm it didn’t take much to put things together. When Helvaka was finally awake and was able to retain consciousness she was able to finally fully observe the room holding her. Her best wager would’ve been a cross between a hospital room and a prison cell. Moving her arms and legs Helvaka found that enough slack was given to re-leave the aching of her limbs, but not enough to break free of the now visible restraints holding down her arms, legs, and upper body. Though she had full motion control of her body for some reason it felt as if it was something massive weighed down her entire body. Before she could make any further investigations to her situation the door to the room left of her opened and a short human entered the room. They wore a black suit and matching pants, hair a dark shade of brown and messy with skin tone marked by discolorations. In their hand they carried a small container held from a handle that they set on a nearby table before pulling up a chair beside Helvaka. The human introduced themselves as “Mr. Jacob” and stated that he was a specialist. When Helvaka refused to answer him Jacob continued on with the conversation and began asking her a series of questions. “How many ships did you bring?” “Where were your staging grounds?” “What are your command frequencies for fleet communication?” “Did you have any collaborators?” He would ask a barrage of questions regarding Gloven military matters; matters that were crucial to the current campaign against the human core worlds. Yet Helvaka was a soldier first and foremost and would never betray those secrets and thus sat in silence. For days he would visit her, set down his container, pull up a chair and begin asking her the same questions. When she gave no answers he would repeat the questions three more times before reclaiming his container and leaving the room. She suspected the devices implanted in her someone how altered her physical chemistry as she would awake shortly before he arrived and then sleep not long after he left. She had lost count of how long this one sided conversation had played out. She thought she would be trapped in this endless loop of repetition until the war finally ended. If only that had been true. When next Helvaka awoke she felt a new sensation, a painful sensation centered around her abdomen. She looked down at her stomach and to her horror found several small metal cylinders protruding out. In revulsion she frantically tried to reach them and pull them out but her bindings held her in place, her hands just out of reach of the nearest cylinder. It was during this frantic struggle that Mr. Jacob entered. “What is this human?” Her first words since arriving in this white room were riddled with a low rumble of hatred. Mr. Jacob said nothing, continuing his normal routine of setting down his container and pulling up a chair, his face as blank and expressionless as ever. “How many ships did you bring?” “What are these things you have put inside me?” “Where were your staging grounds?” “Why have you implanted me with them?!” “What are your command frequencies for fleet communication?” “Remove them at once and release me!” “Did you have any collaborators?” “Did you not hear me!” The back and forth fell on deaf ears as Mr. Jacobs face remained unmoved as he prepared to ask again. “How many ships did you bring?” Helvaka glared at him and said nothing. Instead of asking the next question right away Mr. Jacob stood up and approached Helvaka. She tried to retract herself but the restraints were now suddenly holding her firm in place. She watched as he gently taped the end of one of the cylinders. It made a strange beeping sound and then flashed green before going quiet once more and with that Mr. Jacob returned to his seat without saying another word. “What did you ju-” Helvaka stopped mid-sentence as she felt something strange. A sensation...a growing sensation of burning and pain. Her breath became more ragged and intense as the sensation began to go from a mild annoyance to feeling like a blade was being shoved inside her. Her limbs began thrashing against the binds holding her, back arching high off the bed as she began to scream. A wailing scream not of anger or fury, not of passion nor defiance; but of raw pain the likes of which was so immense that one could never describe it, the words never capturing the suffering. Helvaka screamed for what felt like an eternity before the pain seemingly began to dissipate. Tears rolling down her eyes, she could barely regard what had just happened as real until Mr. Jacob spoke. “That cylinder is a medical device used to drain bodily fluids while medical operations are underway.” He went to his container, opening it to reveal a collection of similar cylinders stacked inside. He gently lifted one out and held it up for Helvaka to see. “They are designed to withstand the corrosive materials often found inside humans and do not degrade even when the most toxic of materials is being pumped through them.” He set the cylinder in his hand back into the bag and then approached Helvaka again, bringing himself face to face with her. “The tubes inside you have been modified somewhat with several tiny holes along the body. They’ve been implanted into your stomach and when I press this button here,” his hand hovered over the same point he had touched before, “it draws out your stomach digestive fluids like a straw.” He looked her dead in the eye and what Helvaka saw for the first time in her life made her scared. “What you felt just now was your own stomach acids pouring through those tiny holes and dissolving your insides.” “Wha....what?” Helvaka could barely finish a sentence as the horror of her situation finally came full circle. “Your species is very similar to humans in that your stomach is lined with a special coating that can inert the acidity of your stomach acids, but that coating only applies to the insides of your stomach. Should any other part of your body come into contact with it, the acidity will begin to slowly burn through just like any other acid.” Helvaka gritted her teeth. “Why would you devise such a cruel method to kill me?” This question appeared to take him by surprise as his blank face broke for a moment and showed confusion. “Kill you? Why would we want to kill an enemy commander we’ve been lucky enough to capture?” Mr. Jacobs motioned to the surrounding room. “This is a hospital after all. After I am finished with my questions they can heal your wounds nicely and make you good as new.” He flashed a grin that to Helvaka appeared like a monster that has finally found its prey. “That way even if you decide to refuse answering my questions we can keep you alive for the next round of questions, and then the next round after that, and then the next round after that, and so on.” He sat back down still smiling while Helvaka was wishing she had died with the rest of her crew. “I think we’re going to become great friends. Now, where were your staging grounds?” -------------------

Not all humans wear shining armor, nor are they heroes that save the day. Sometimes we are the monsters, that heroes come to slay. So the universe waits with bated breath, with grins from ear to ear. Unsure of who they deal with, when humans are ones to fear.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #horror

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aquilaaqua · 3 years

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The time Keyla and Michael gets drugged (again), Saru gets called out, everyone is so done

Or Keyla and Michael go to a courier outpost to get intel on Osyraa, rescue a Transworm, get drugged with the truth drug. Saru gets called out on his behavior towards Michael. Dr. Culber and Book are the awkward witnesses. And everyone is just done.

(This is supposed to set after Terra Firma Part 2 even though it is not out yet.)

Discovery’s newest mission brings them to a marketplace outpost in the Beta quadrant. Book had intel that Osyraa is sending someone there to obtain a component for a weapon she plans to use against the Federation. Naturally, Admiral Vance sent Discovery over to stop the trade from happening and capture Osyraa’s men for intel.

On the bridge, everyone was preparing to jump. But no one can ignore the tension between their captain and their science officer, or rather Michael was acting coolly to Saru and Saru was trying to pretend that it was not affecting him. And no one other than Dr. Culber knew why. Detmer and Owo exchanged concern looks as they watch Michael address Saru tersely. Bryce and Nilsson were quietly speculating the reason behind Michael’s sudden coldness towards their captain. Tilly shifted nervous looks between her superior and friend, wondering if she should say something to either of them. Rhys threw looks at Michael from his station. And Saru paid no heed to the bridge crew even though he should have.

“Spore Drive is ready Captain.”

With the go ahead from Stamets, Saru motioned for everyone to stop chattering and get ready.

“Black Alert.” With those words, the ship jumped to the planet where the outpost is located. Once there, Michael and Detmer will go down to find Osyraa’s men. Book would have gone with them but Osyraa has an alert out for him so it was risky for him.

Frankly it was also risky for Michael and Detmer too since the former had a hand in destroying their salvage facility and the latter attacked the Viridian. But they were counting on Osyraa not knowing the pilot that nearly destroyed her flagship and Michael was the only one who can get them into the facility as a courier.

Once out of their Federation uniforms and in casual clothes, they transported onto the surface. Michael made her way to the entrance of the outpost with Detmer following closely behind her.

“Follow my lead and act like you belong there. But I think you’ll fit in well. And most importantly, if you find a drone hoovering near you, get away from it. It’s likely they’ll spray you with drugs that make you get high and speak the truth.” Michael laid out the ground rules.

The last part made Detmer smile slightly. “Speaking from experience?”

“You have no idea. And don’t asked Book.” Michael sighed. Entering the facility, they were stopped by one of the Andorian guards.

“Michael, here to cause trouble again?” The guard sneered at them.

Detmer tensed behind her but Michael only offered the guard a smile. “Not today. I’m introducing a new pilot who wants to become a courier.”

“Oh really?” The Andorian guard eyed Detmer skeptically, or specifically, her cybernetics.

“I’ve got my pilot’s license at 12. And my cybernetics let me react faster than a normal pilot.” Detmer leaned in and gave a conspiratorial smirk. “I even stole and piloted Cleveland Booker’s ship.”

This caught the guard’s attention. “Wait, Cleveland Booker? Weren’t you two working together?” He glared at Michael.

“Not anymore. Not since he ditched me on the moon of Dolres. I was tracking down his ship when I found her.” Michael gestured at Detmer.

“And Booker?”

“Dunno.” Detmer shrugged.

“He’ll try to get it back, especially if his precious Grudge is still onboard.” Michael casually mentioned. “Anyway, in exchange for using the ship to capture Book, I also promised to help her become a courier.”

The guard looked thoughtful at Michael’s unspoken implications. “Where’s the ship?”

“Hidden for now. I can’t exactly fly it out in the open.” Detmer pretended to be annoyed. Still skeptical, the guard eyed them but allowed them in.

“Osyraa has someone here today. And I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear what you two have to say.”

“I did not come here to deal with the Emerald Chain today.” Michael snapped, though inwardly delighted that the plan was working.

“Were you under a rock?” The guard scoffed. “Osyraa has an alert out for Cleveland Booker. Something about having information about the Federation and whatnot. Why he would work with those murderers is anyone’s guess!” He spat.

Detmer tensed beside Michael who stood firm. She crossed her arm and still refused to budge. “So she wants to use his ship to lure him out too? I have dibs on killing him.”

“Work that out with her representative. You’ll find him at the Transworm meat stall.” The guard grunted. He smirked at Detmer. “Who knows, she might help your friend there get her courier’s license faster.”

“Fine.” Michael gritted out. Tossing her head at back, she subtly winked at Detmer. “Come on, the sooner we can get over this, the sooner I can strangle Book.”

Detmer struggled not to laugh as she nodded. “Right.”

Once inside, Detmer released a relieved breath and whispered, “Oh my gosh! I didn’t think that would actually work.”

“But we’re not clear yet.” Michael murmured back. “Let’s hope we end this mission smoothly.”

Not even an hour later back on the Discovery, Owosekun’s console beeped with a notification. She frowned as she tried to make sense of it.

“Sir, Lt. Detmer and Commander Burnham are back. But they transported straight to Book’s ship…and they brought a Transworm with them.” She said bewilderedly at the last part. Saru sighed in exasperation as he got up from his chair. With her track record, he should not be surprised that Michael brought back a lifeform that needs saving. He is surprise that Detmer didn’t stop her though. Oh who was he kidding, nothing will stop Michael when she makes up her mind on anything.

“Lt. Nilsson, you have the chair. I’m going to see what Commander Burnham has done this time. Ensign Tilly, you’re with me.” Saru sighed and transported down to the shuttle bay. Once they was gone, the remaining bridge crew exchanged tired looks that said ‘Here we go again’.

When Saru and Tilly arrived at the shuttle bay, everyone except for Dr. Culber had been shooed out for their safety. Book was telepathically communicating with the Transworm to coax it into a cargo pod.

“What is going on here?” Saru demanded.

“Sh!” Dr. Culber quickly shushed the captain. “Don’t startle the Transworm. Book needs to focus to keep it calm and getting it into the cargo pod.”

“Where are Michael and Keyla?” Tilly whispered to the doctor.

“Inside the ship. I’m waiting for Book to get the Transworm to safety before moving them to the medical bay.”

“Are they injured?” Saru asked.

“Book was not clear on that.” Dr. Culber slowly shook his head. “But he thinks it’s best that I lock them up in the medical bay for a while. His words, not mine.”

Once the Transworm is secured, Book ran over to get the doctor but froze when he saw Saru and Tilly.

“Um, Captain Saru. Now is not a good time for you to see them.”

“Are they injured?” Saru asked without preamble.

“Not really, but it’s best that you don’t see them right now. Doctor, you should go in and check on them.”

“Mr. Booker, while Michael and Keyla are on your ship at the moment, my crew is under my care and I demand that you give me an answer right now. Why is it not ok for me to check on them?”

Book hesitated to give an answer, so Dr. Culber spoke up, “Mr. Booker, I understand that you are reluctant to tell him. But if they are not in dire need of me, he is not going to let up.”

Book sighed and gestured for them to follow him. “They got doused in a drug that is used to make people speak the truth.”

The Discovery crew blinked at that. They were expecting something more serious. But Dr. Culber then understood the implications of what Book was saying. He held up his hand to stop Saru and Tilly.

“Why don’t I see them privately and bring them to the medical bay. I will give you a report when the drugs are flushed from their bodies.”

“I believe there is nothing wrong in seeing them right now if it is only a small matter. And I need to know where is Osyraa’s men and if they managed to prevent the transaction.” With that, Saru strode ahead with Tilly while Book and Dr. Culber exchanged weary looks.

“How bad is it?” The doctor quietly asked the courier.

“From what I got from Michael, the drone that is supposed to spray that stuff exploded over them as they were transporting Lulu back. So, full dose, and their high, and emotional.”

Dr. Culber quirked an eyebrow at him. “Lulu?”

“The name of the Transworm. Once Michael and Keyla are off, I need to take him to a Transworm sanctuary.”

“Got it.”

The group soon arrived at the kitchenet where Book left the two ladies. They found Michael unconscious in Keyla’s arms and Keyla a sobbing mess while clinging to her friend.

“Are you alright?” Dr. Culber asked as he rushed to the pilot’s side. “How’s Commander Burnham?”

“Sh!” Keyla hissed at the doctor. “She’s asleep.”

“Alright.” Dr. Culber slowly nodded and lowered his voice. “What about you?”

“We talked, heart to heart.” Keyla pointed at the others. “You are my witness. I have forgiven Michael for the Battle of Binary Stars. We are friends now and sworn sisters.”

“I’m glad for you, Lt. Detmer. But we need to know what happened on the surface? Where is Osyraa’s men?” Saru cut in.

“He’s up here. In the cargo pod.”

“Oh.” Book froze, understanding what Detmer said. “Lulu ate him, didn’t he?”

“Yes. But,” She waved at the piece of machinery on the table. “We got the part he was trying to buy.”

Saru glanced at Tilly and nodded at the equipment. “Take it to engineering and find out what it is. It might give us an idea of what Osyraa’s weapon is.”

“Yes captain.” Tilly nodded and transported to engineering with the part, inwardly dismayed that she would not find out what happened on the planet until later.

“Now, Lt. Detmer, would you care to explain why didn’t Commander Burnham stop the Transworm from eating Osyraa’s men?” Saru demanded, his voice rising slightly. Keyla shot out of her seat, but not before passing Michael to Dr. Culber. She marched over to Saru and got very close to him with a fierce look that made him take a step back.

“That’s because, the Transworm had escaped and ate him before we even set foot in the marketplace!” She snapped.

“Saru, I respect you as a captain and friend, but you need to stop antagonizing Michael!” She punctuated each word with a jab of her finger at him. “Yes, she broke your trust by leaving to save Book and get that black box. But you should know her long enough by now to know that she would have done it anyway. Her martyrdom complex makes her try to save and protect those close to her! She also said that you didn’t want to save Captain Georgiou in the first place! I know that she’s not our Georgiou but from the mirror universe. And I'm pissed that neither of you thought to tell me earlier. But she has done nothing but care for Michael this entire time. And you want to repay that by letting her suffer from her illness and eventually die painfully. That’s why she’s so angry at you! And by the way, why was she punished for going rogue but I’m not? Tilly said that I was supposed to be ‘punished severely’ for going rogue, even though it was pretend!”

“Lt. Detmer!” Saru snapped at her. “Cease this at once!”

“It’s the drug. It’s making her more emotionally truthful.” Book unhelpfully supplied. “Adrenalin will knock it out.”

“I’m not done yet!” Keyla sneered at the Kelpian. “Saru, Michael came here a year earlier than we did. She’s changed. We’ve changed. It’s time you stopped denying that and accept it. She has friends and people she loves in Discovery and out of it. The only thing that hasn’t changed about her is her willingness to risk her life for us and uphold the Federation’s principles.”

Saru took another step back, this time in shock at his helmsmen’s words, perhaps even ashamed. Keyla suddenly slumped forward and Book rushed forward to catch her as Saru was still motionless from shock.

“What’s happening to her?” Dr. Culber asked Book as he helped her sit down again.

“Adrenalin crash? I don’t know. I don’t know any cases where someone gets accidentally doused with the full amount.”

Sighing, Dr. Culber tapped his badge. “Dr. Culber to medical bay. Prepare two biobeds and be prepared to receive.”

Turning to Saru, he gave the captain an even look. “Sir, I know that you have questions and will want to discipline Detmer for her…outburst, but I have to ask to hold that off until I flush the drugs from their system.”

“…Right doctor.” Saru slowly nodded. Dr. Culber tapped on his badge and he and the two incapacitated crewmembers transported to the medical bay, leaving Book and Saru to stand awkwardly.

Saru turned to Book with a scrutiny look. “Is there anything you would like to add?”

“If Michael was conscious, she would have said the things she never wants to say to your face and regret it later.” Book said bluntly.

“How would you know what she would say?” Saru could not help but snark.

“We talk.” Book emphasized the word. “Something I think you need to do with her.”

Saru tilted his head then shook it with a sigh. “What are you going to do with the Transworm?”

“There’s a sanctuary for Transworms but I’m not going to tell you where it is. Now that Michael is safely in your ship’s medical bay, I’m going to drop Lulu off.” Book moved to the console to prepare for the trip.

“Mr. Booker.” Saru suddenly spoke up, making Book turn back to face him. “I don’t say this enough, but thank you for being there for Michael when we couldn’t.”

Book slowly nodded in acknowledment. “Michael is a good person, perhaps too good for your Federation.”

“Oh my gosh.” Keyla buried her face in her hands once she was situated on a biobed. “I can’t believe I said that to Saru.”

“I know.” Dr. Culber hummed as he scanned her.

Keyla lifted her head at him and smirked, “But I don’t regret it.” Placing a hand over her heart she sighed in relief. “You were right. I feel better now that I got a lot of things off my chest.”

“And I can’t believe it took being douse with truth drugs for you to heed my advice.” The doctor teased her. He then sobered up and nodded at Michael who he now can see had tear tracks. “What did you talk about with her?”

“About the Shenzou. Georgiou. My implants. Coming to the future. My PTDS. Her conflicted feelings.” Keyla eyed him. “I meant what I said. We talked it out and I’ve forgiven her since she stood up to Admiral Cornwall to save Quo’nos.”

“I know.” Dr. Culber said again with a soft smile. He injected the contents of a hypospray in her neck. “This should help flush out the drugs. Let me know if you have any side effects.”

“Will do doc.”

They looked up when the doors swished open, revealing Saru. Dr. Culber opened his mouth to admonish him but the Kelpien held up his hand to forestall him.

“I’m not here to rile up Lt. Detmer or Commander Burnham. I only wanted to see how they are doing.”

“The drugs should be flushed out of their systems in an hour.” Dr. Culber reported. Keyla adverted her eyes, feeling ashamed for her outburst earlier.

“Thank you, doctor.” Saru blinked at the doctor. He then turned to Keyla and lowered his head. “I won’t punish you for your words earlier as you were clearly under the influence of the drugs. But every word you said is correct. I have been antagonizing Michael.”

Keyla blinked in surprise at him. Saru continued, “I sometimes forget that she spent a year without us. Perhaps in my desire to ignore my guilt for leaving her alone and pleasing the admiral, I forgot who she is at the core.”

“I’m glad that you understand, but I’m not the one you need to say it to.” Keyla jerked her chin at Michael.

“Michael and I will have a talk once she is awake and preferable clear minded.” Saru promised.

“Good.” Keyla nodded and laid back to rest.

“I leave them in your hands doctor.” Saru nodded at Dr. Culber who was trying not to smile.

“Of course.” Dr. Culber nodded back. Once Saru transported away, the doctor let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps there was hope for Michael and Saru’s relationship to heal after all. XXXX

I did this after Terra Firma Part 1 but I’m setting it after Part 2. As such, I’m not including Georgiou. But I got frustrated at Saru after his first reaction is to not save Georgiou and Michael looked so betrayed.

Lulu is based off one of my favorite cats from Kittisaurus/Cream Heroes on Youtube. He eats everything and would do anything for food, like how a Transworm would eat people indiscriminately. So I thought it was fitting.

#star trek discovery #star trek disco spoilers #michael burnham #keyla detmer #saru (star trek)#hugh culber

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unwhithered · 4 years

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The Clone Wars/Jedi Musketeers prompt fic

@fuzzytale prompted: “ i love you, every part of you. even the parts you don’t like. ” For the Jedi Musketeers boys, whichever combo you like

And I wrote you a whole ass 2k word fic for this prompt & Porthos, on top of the one for Aramis. AND I made it Clone Wars and sad for good measure.

“Any news?” Commander Edee asks, falling in at Porthos’ side as he descends the stairs. Only the roof of the bombed out tower receives enough signal to get a message out, even a local one. Given that what’s left of the roof consists of three durasteel beams and is in direct eye line of enemy snipers, Porthos has banned anyone but himself from venturing above the tenth floor.

Mouth set in a grim line, Porthos shakes his head. “I couldn’t raise any of the other companies, or the ship. I’m sorry.”

“I see.” Edee tucks his bucket under his arm as he pauses to look out a broken window. Below is a sea of green and gray - local Separatists and droids, hunkered down behind their shield generators and awaiting darkness to press the attack once more. Both men know it will be the last attack. Edee’s eyes are golden in the dying light of the twin suns, the scar on his right cheek a canyon of shadow, an entire landscape painted in the grooves and scratches of his black-and-gold armor. The long campaign has left no time for repairing his usually meticulous paint. Force, he looks far too old and weary for someone who feels so young. Grief for a loss that hasn’t even happened yet hits Porthos like a blow to the chest as Edee glances up at him. “It’s not such a bad place to die, is it?”

“No,” Porthos hums, leaning on the opposite side of the window. Ignoring the grind of bone on bone in his chest is becoming steadily harder, his breaths more labored, and he’s silently grateful for the chance to gather himself before descending to join their remaining troops on the 8th floor. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”

Though Edee’s face remains neutral a tidal wave of emotions builds around him in the Force. Porthos lets his eyes slip shut to better see his Commander as he truly is - helpless red rage, guilt spreading like an oil slick between them, grief like the bite of bitter citrus under his tongue, and love. Despite it all, so much love. “I was just starting to believe our lucky streak might hold long enough for you to show me Coruscant, sir.”

Porthos swallows hard. Born and bred for nothing but a war he has no stake in, and Edee still believes in luck. It strikes him again how good this man is, loyal and kind despite his lack of freedom, his constant losses. Porthos wishes he had followed Aramis in refusing to take part in this pointless, brutal affair. He wishes that he could keep his promise to show the 78th the heart of the Republic their brothers are dying to protect. He wishes...but wishes are for children. A Jedi Knight faces reality. Even the reality of his own death.

“C’mere,” he commands, crooking the fingers that still bend. Edee obeys, lurching forward on his probably-broken foot to stand in Porthos’ shadow, just out of sight of any potential snipers. “Close your eyes.”

Porthos ducks to rest his forehead against Edee’s, ignoring the sour scent of their mingled breath and the distant decay of bodies as he breathes deeply. Powdered duracrete scrapes between their brows and the last rays of sunlight retreat to leave them in steadily deeper purple shadows. He tunes it out, tunes it all out, and sinks into a memory of the Coruscant of his youth.

“It’s never dark on Coruscant,” he murmurs, pushing an image of the view from his room in Master Treville’s quarters into Edee’s mind. It’s harder, with a non Force sensitive, but after a year of living side by side in the trenches there’s enough of a bond between them that he manages. The scent of Aramis’ favorite night blooming flowers weaves into the memory, real enough that Edee inhales and doesn’t even smell death on the air.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes.

“That’s nothing.” One after the others, Porthos shares memories that feel a lifetime away. Coruscant from space, a glittering ball of light and life. The sharp taste of adrenaline and exhaust fumes as he weaves through air traffic on an illegally modified swoop bike, Athos and Aramis darting in and out of sight as they race back to the Temple before curfew. A cool breeze off the waterfall in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Aramis’ laughter bubbling along with the stream they’re laying beside, grass under their fingers and Athos’ thigh warm beneath his cheek. Home.

Edee stumbles back, gasping, as the whine of engines overhead signals the end of the day. As the first bomb lights the night Porthos spots tear tracks carving muddy lines through the dirt and blood on his face.

“Thank you, sir,” Edee says, the last word warped by the speakers as he slams his helmet on. “Oya!”

“Oya.” Porthos grunts, wiping at his own eyes with the back of a filthy glove. “K’oyacyi, Edee, and may the Force be with you.”

Another explosion shakes the already fragile building, raining duracrete around them. Edee salutes informally and turns to take the stairs three at a time, calling back over his shoulder, “Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur.” It’s a good day for someone else to die.

In the half second Porthos takes to send up a prayer to the Force and one last wave of lovegrieflongingI’msorry to the four points of light in the back of his mind, everything explodes in heat and fire and pain.

--------

Porthos wakes, rather unexpectedly given that his last memory is of being blown up. Bacta and ash make an unsettling combination on his tongue, and he finds his mouth too dry to swallow the taste away. The resulting coughing fit forces him into a curled position on his side, one arm reflexively clutching ribs that aren’t broken anymore.

“Easy,” a familiar voice soothes. “Breathe, Porthos.”

Something cold presses against his lips and Porthos opens his mouth automatically, lets a steady hand push an ice chip between his lips. The sweet relief of cool, clean water dissolving on his tongue draws a groan from him and chases the lingering coughing fit away. More ice chips follow, fed by a hand that lingers on his cheek in between, until Porthos is conscious enough to recognize the presence beside him as Athos.

“That’s enough,” he grunts, batting Athos’ hand away as reality begins to filter through the haze. Sifting through his memories feels like struggling out from under a heavy blanket, a feeling he recognizes as Force-assisted sleep. He must have Athos to thank for that. It takes him three attempts to sit up, the last time finally accepting Athos’ steadying hands on his shoulders. Only then does he crack his eyes open. There are deep bruises under Athos’ eyes and lines on his face that weren’t there when Porthos last saw him, nearly a year ago now. “Happened?”

“We arrived just in time to watch a tower collapse on you,” Athos replies. Usually the least physically affectionate among them, he can’t seem to stop touching Porthos. Reassuring himself the other man is in fact alive and whole by holding his shoulder, cupping his cheek, threading his fingers through the tangled hair behind Porthos’ ear and rubbing his thumb over the thin skin there. “You’ve been in bacta for two weeks.”

“Edee?” he asks, bracing himself for the answer. “My Commander? My men?”

“I’m sorry, my friend. We found another company sheltered elsewhere in the city, nearly intact, but your flagship was destroyed in orbit, and none of the men in your location survived.” Athos digs in the pocket of his robe, offering a scuffed and cracked object to Porthos. A gauntlet. Edee’s gauntlet, a golden 78 in scratched paint above the knuckles, blood between the finger joints.

-------

Athos has to step back quickly to avoid being knocked over when Porthos surges to his feet with a wordless snarl. Machines scream as he pulls wires and tubes from his arms and chest - Athos silences them with a wave of his hand before any of the medics come running into their private room. A growing prickle of unease at the back of his neck, something he has learned not to ignore over the years, tells him this is a moment no one else should see.

“What took you so long?” The very air around them shimmers as Porthos rounds on him, the room suddenly too small for his presence. “Where were the reinforcements we asked for weeks ago? We were abandoned! A hundred fifty thousand men in that invasion and you’re tellin’ me a hundred survived.”

Something behind Athos cracks loudly, and across the room trays of instruments crash to the floor. He stands steady and watches as Porthos prowls the space between them without ever closing it entirely. “Your messages never reached the Council or the Senate. My battalion wasn’t sent to rescue you, Porthos - I came because I felt your distress as we were returning to Coruscant.”

“Never reached the…” Porthos’ expression collapses from rage to grief, an unfamiliar hopelessness in his eyes. He wavered, the energy draining from the room, leaving a cold void in its place. “Force, they just left us out there alone. All my men, and no one even knew.”

Just like the flash of knowledge that tells Athos where a blow or a blaster bolt will land a breath before his attacker even moves, Athos steps forward to catch Porthos just before his knees buckle. He’s lighter than Athos remembers, a larger than life figure made small by the endless grind of war, campaign after grueling campaign that wears them all into shadows of their former selves. He goes easily into the nearest chair, Athos folding himself down to kneel at Porthos’ feet.

“No one left to remember them.”

Catching Porthos’ hands before they can cover his face, Athos threads their fingers together and squeezes. “You will remember them.”

“How long until I’m gone, too, and then there’s really no one?” Porthos barks out a painful laugh. “Kriff, how long until all of us are gone? Our whole Order? Aramis was right. We lost this war the second we started fightin’ it.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Athos snaps. His jaw flexes and he takes several deep breaths, deliberately softening his voice before he speaks again. Kriff it all, he wishes Aramis was here. He’s always been better at this comforting business. “We made a pact. One for all. I’ll hear no talk of you dying without us.”

Porthos snorts and tries to lean back, stopped by Athos’ unrelenting grip on his hands. “That was a lifetime ago, ‘thos. I don’t even know who the boy who made that pact is anymore. ‘M not him anymore, that’s sure. Force,” he looks to the ceiling, blinking hard, “maybe we shoulda listened to all that attachment talk. ‘Mis left us, you and Constance and d’Ar are all across the galaxy, fighting this war I barely even believe in for Senators who never see the sufferin’. Leading an army that’s no better ‘n slaves. I’m out here on my own and I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

“I recognize you,” Athos replies, quiet but fierce as he kisses Porthos’ scarred knuckles, then the palm he opens to cup Athos’ bearded cheek. “This war has changed us all, it’s true, but I recognize you. Porthos du Vallon, Jedi Knight. My friend.” Looking up at Porthos’ disbelieving face, he searches desperately for the right thing to say. Remembers something he and Porthos had told Aramis once, and Aramis and Porthos had told Athos in turn. “Whatever this war has changed in you, I still love you, every part of you. Even the parts you don’t like. Even the parts you don’t recognize anymore. That will have to be enough.

#the musketeers fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #porthos #athos #original clone characters #mandoa #tw character death #tw injury #prompt me?

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bltngames · 4 years

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Review: Super Mario Sunshine

Super Mario Sunshine is a weird game for a lot of different reasons. It was among some of the first game reviews I ever wrote for the internet, for one, all the way back in 2005. I was proud enough of that review that when it came time to relaunch TSSZ News in 2008, it was one of five archived reviews I transplanted on to the site. It was also a strange case where I became convinced it was a game I’d never play, originally. I was 23 years old, with no job, no money, and no prospects. I was desperate to play the game that was being sold as the sequel to Super Mario 64, but I could not envision a future where that would ever be possible.

Eventually, I reached my breaking point. Earlier that same year, somebody had linked me to something called “Quake Done Quick.” It was attached to a relatively new site, called the “Speed Demos Archive”, a hub for videos of people finishing games as fast as possible. The site was small, updated manually, and featured a list of roughly 100 games -- maybe less. This was before Youtube, so these were downloadable video files, usually in AVI or MPG format. And it was here that they had a Super Mario Sunshine speedrun. Even on my fledgling broadband internet, it took a considerable amount of time to download. But, with nothing more than two hours of raw, unedited, uncommentated gameplay footage, I watched a user named “Dragorn” play through the entire game (his old run is still viewable on the Internet Archive). Watching a speedrunner flip, spin, and trick his way across levels, I became convinced that Sunshine was incredible.

A few months later, I was surprised by my brother with $200 for Christmas, stuffed inside a greeting card. He said it was for “all the Christmases he missed” since moving out, years ago. Combined with other money I’d received in gifts, I headed to a Gamestop and purchased a Gamecube with my own (used) copy of Super Mario Sunshine. In my mind, it did not matter that I had spoiled the entire game for myself only three months earlier with the speedrun video. Watching someone else play is no substitute for a controller in your own hands. I needed to play it for myself.

In the modern context, Super Mario Sunshine is one of the games attached to the recently released Super Mario 3D All-Stars collection. Full disclosure: I will not be buying this collection, and I have not played the version of Super Mario Sunshine it includes. It’s not that these games are bad, but even from the outside looking in, the collection looks underwhelming. It’s full of basic, bare-bones ports of games that deserve more. But it does mean that these games have been on my mind, particularly Super Mario Sunshine, which I finished replaying, separately, a little more than one year ago. It was the first time I’d finished the game since that fateful Christmas of 2004, and it provided a refresh in perspective.

The truth of the matter is, brushing aside everything else about it, Super Mario Sunshine is an easy game to hate. Nintendo was trying a lot of new things with the Gamecube, struggling to figure out what could be done with the leap in horsepower over the Nintendo 64. Their pitch was a Mario that was subtly more serious and realistic. Sunshine is a game with a surprisingly large number of cinematics, and a considerable amount of narrative setup. It sounds like a joke, but it’s true: the game opens with Mario taking a long-deserved vacation on a tropical island, only to be arrested and wrongfully accused of crimes he did not commit. He is sentenced to community service, forced to clean the island of a paint-like substance its residents claim he has used to vandalize their resort town. This is accomplished with the F.L.U.D.D., a backpack-mounted squirt gun perfect for washing down walls and floors. It was the first manual labor he’d been shown doing since the NES version of Wrecking Crew in 1985.

It’s odd territory for Mario, but it leads to the game’s first real problem: Plot. Sunshine is not a game that’s packed with story -- there aren’t a lot of named characters, and there aren’t a lot of genuine story arcs to get hooked in to, but it’s way more than you got in most Mario games. Regardless, the influence of a narrative structure is definitely felt within its levels. One of the benefits of Super Mario 64 is that there was no set order to anything; you might drop in to a level with a specific goal in mind, only to accidentally stumble on to something else. You were encouraged to follow your curiosity, collecting stars more through natural exploration. Even though it’s not always obvious on the surface, the objectives in Super Mario Sunshine are following a specific plotline, which means flat, rigid linearity.

So you might reach an amusement park area, but you can’t go inside until you finish the mission where you open the front gates. Even once you re-enter the level for the next mission inside the amusement park, exploring its various rides will be a moot point, as the game will want you to focus on a specific goal instead. Want to ride the rollercoaster? Too bad, the story dictates it’s not available yet. Though you still have that go-anywhere, do-anything world design from Super Mario 64, the current mission is the only thing that’s ever active. Another example: at the beginning of the game, you open up the first stage -- Bianco Hills. Even though you have a whole village and a sizable lake area to explore, there’s little to do out there, because your mission is about reaching the bottom of the windmill. The second mission, again, doesn’t involve the village or the lake, but now asks you to reach the top of the same windmill in order to fight the game’s first boss, Petey Piranha. And so it goes: big zones to explore, but most of it useless as Sunshine slowly trickles out objectives one at a time, following a barely-visible narrative that drags everything down.

Nintendo had other intentions for the game, too. The company was known for taking its time with game releases -- Super Mario World released in 1990, and it took six years for Super Mario 64 to follow it up. Even once a game was announced, there were often months or even years of delays as the game got pushed back, and back, and back, as with Ocarina of Time. Similarly long waits happened for many of Nintendo’s other flagship franchises (Super Mario Kart, Super Metroid, etc.), and the peanut gallery was getting restless. With the release of the Gamecube, Nintendo made a vow to explore other avenues to release more games, more quickly.

The problem was, all of those delays are exactly what lead to Nintendo’s extremely high bar of quality. Rushing these games out the door meant cutting corners and finding easy ways to tack on extra play time, skipping necessary fine tuning. In The Wind Waker, this notoriously led to the last fourth of the game, wherein you must find and decode maps to dredge up half a dozen pieces of the magical Triforce. For most, this meant hours of sailing out to random, completely featureless areas in the middle of the open ocean hoping to find a single golden tortilla chip. “Tedious” is putting it kindly, but it saved Nintendo from having to delay the game too many times in order to add more in-depth content.

In Super Mario Sunshine, this manifested in a degree of repetition that is difficult to ignore. In both Super Mario 64 and Super Mario Galaxy, most mission objectives are unique. There are occasional repeated missions, like finding 8 red coins, but by and large it's things like rescuing a baby penguin, opening a pyramid, assaulting an airship, or finding your way through a gravity-bending maze. There's enough variety that you don't notice as much when you're asked to do yet another one of Galaxy's purple coin comets.

Sunshine still has unique goals like that, but they are much fewer and farther between. Instead, the bulk of the game is filled with doing the same four or five missions over, and over, and over again. Finding fruit to hatch Yoshi or hunting red coins can be fun occasionally, but Sunshine often makes you do this stuff multiple times per level. Most bosses also must be faced at least twice, sometimes up to three times, and very little changes from fight to fight. And then there are the races -- a man named Piantissimo is waiting for you in most stages, looking to race you to an arbitrary landmark, and every single level has one penultimate mission where you must chase down the hero's evil doppelganger, Shadow Mario. It’s padding, basically, and thanks to a tenuous grip on narrative, there’s few ways to skip the things you don’t want to do.

This isn't even touching on the game's blue coins. They're one of Sunshine's rarer collectibles, and ten blue coins can be traded at the shop for a single Shine Sprite (the main item central to the story). The majority of blue coins can be found by hosing down graffiti found around the island. Spray a circle-shaped pattern on one wall, and a blue coin pops out of another circle-shaped pattern on the opposite side of the level, which you must run to and collect before it disappears. Then, the opposite: spray down the second pattern, and another blue coin will appear back where the first graffiti used to be. In a game full of rerun objectives, this is the worst offender. Rarely are these blue coin graffiti spots interesting or challenging; they primarily exist to fill space and fluff up the Shine counter.

The level concepts themselves also suffer from this repetition. In any other Mario game, “tropical island” would be one theme among many other level types, like deserts, volcanoes and frozen lakes. Sunshine tries to stretch its one theme out to last an entire game, and in practical terms, this means that even after 18 years and two complete playthroughs (three, if you count the speedrun video), I still can’t remember most areas in any kind of specific detail. I remember a couple stage names, maybe a few environmental traits (like the hotel at sunset or the amusement park), but anything beyond that and it all starts blurring into homogeneous beaches, docks, and villages. Even the music -- beyond the iconic acoustic guitar of the Delfino Plaza hub world song, absolutely nothing about Super Mario Sunshine’s soundtrack stands out as memorable in the slightest. Every part of this game plays, looks and sounds like every other part in the worst way possible.

And yet, through some miracle, Super Mario Sunshine does not come out the other end being a bad game. It’s not necessarily good, either, mind you. But when I finally managed to get my hands on this game back in 2004, it made me angry. Super Mario 64 was a tough act to follow, and rather than build on those concepts, Sunshine felt like a massive regression. Nowadays, it’s easier to see the bigger picture. Super Mario Sunshine was a stop-gap as Nintendo slowly pushed Mario back to a more linear, level-based structure. Super Mario Galaxy was another step in this direction, doing away with the open worlds in favor of traditional, straight-forward level design, something that would later be perfected in Super Mario 3D Land and Super Mario 3D World.

That makes Sunshine more of a curious black sheep than anything else. It’s definitely not a game worth hating -- its biggest offense is simply being dull, and there are worse fates. For my replay, it became the sort of game I chipped away at, bit by bit, over the course of nearly three years. As it turns out, the best cure for repetition is to forget everything you were doing the last time you played. It’s even fitting on some level that a game about Mario taking a vacation is best served in lazy, slow, indifferent chunks. Make no mistake -- there are better, more polished, and more engaging platformers out there for you to play. It is in no way a stretch to call Super Mario Sunshine the worst 3D Mario game, but it speaks to the franchise’s high bar of quality that even the worst 3D Mario game really isn’t so bad.

#review #writing #nintendo #gamecube #switch #3d all-stars #mario #sunshine #super mario sunshine #re-review

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duhragonball · 4 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (136/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[14 November, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Moments ago, Rehval III Trismegistus, King of the Saiyans, had declared victory. Large swaths of the galaxy didn't know it yet, to say nothing of the rest of the universe, but his victory was absolute nonetheless. In a telepathic address to Luffa's allied fleet, he announced that their attack on his planet would be futile, and he demanded their unconditional surrender.

Luffa didn't understand Rehval's power completely, but she had learned enough to get the basic idea of it. Even a middling Saiyan had enough fighting power to destroy a planetary body. As the Super Saiyan, Luffa had assumed she could annihilate Nagaoka with ease, wiping out Rehval's Jindan cult in a single stroke. But the planet had resisted her, like a mighty warrior blocking an offensive technique. It was like the planet was a living thing, and according to Rehval, it now was. He had merged his life essence with Nagaoka. The way he explained it, planets possessed a tremendous energy of their own, but they lacked the consciousness to wield it like a Saiyan. Now, he controlled Nagaoka like an extension of his own body. As long as he remained on the planet, both would be indestructible.

If that were all it was, then Luffa might have been tempted to leave him trapped on the prison he had built for himself. But Rehval had other abilities. His followers had traveled to other planets, seeding them with an alchemical potion of his own creation. Once activated, the elixir gave Rehval partial control over the mass of those planets as well. He could mold a large chunk of earth into a monstrous figure, one powerful enough to destroy the planets' inhabitants. Luffa had fought these "rock-Rehvals" before, but she had no idea that he could operate so many of them simultaneously, and now there were hundreds of them scattered across the galaxy, each one holding a different planet hostage.

The only way to stop them all was to destroy the man who controlled them, but Luffa had just tried that and failed. She had fired a ki blast down to Nagaoka's surface, only for the energy to be absorbed and then fired back in multiple directions. Rehval claimed he had gained that ability by studying genetic samples from Luffa's wife. Zatte could do similar tricks with ki, but on a much smaller scale. Each of Zatte's people were born with a unique power. The idea of Rehval simply duplicating it for himself was galling, even after everything else he had done.

Rehval claimed that everything he had done was for the good of the Saiyan species, but Luffa knew the truth: He was a small, petty man, frustrated with his own lack of importance. He couldn't stand the idea that Saiyan history would carry on without him, and so he had turned to alchemy and treachery to cheat his fate. He had promised his followers greater power, but his Jindan potion only bound them to his cause, just as he had bound himself to Nagaoka. Now, he demanded that every Saiyan in the universe join his cult, so that he could fulfill his mad dream of converting their once-proud race into nothing but a hive, interdependent upon their immortal king.

What sickened Luffa the most was how eager her fellow Saiyans were to accept this. Guwar had defected from the Jindan Cult when he realized how depraved it really was. It was Guwar who revealed the location of Nagaoka to Luffa, so that she could destroy it and save the Saiyan people. But at the first sign of adversity, he resigned himself to returning to Rehval on bended knee. Luffa left Guwar's dead body in the cargo bay of her ship.

As she made her way back to the bridge, she could send the ki of the crews of her fleet. All around her, the allied fleet seemed to struggle with what had just happened. They had surrounded the planet to ensure that no one could escape. Now, they began to break formation. The Federation ships moved away from the planet, perhaps fearing an attack, while the Saiyan Free Company seemed to fall apart completely. A handful of ships descended into the atmosphere, their crews apparently not willing to wait for their leaders to make up their minds. One of them broke orbit, only for another SFC ship to open fire on it. The commanders were probably trying to contact Luffa for further instructions. She wasn't sure what to tell them.

Stepping out of the lift onto the bridge, she found Zatte rocking back and forth in the pilot's chair, her hands clutching at the red hair on either side of her scalp. Once she noticed Luffa, Zatte looked up at her with dread. "This is all my fault," she said, her voice trembling with remorse. "Luffa, I'm so sorry..."

For a moment, Luffa worried that Zatte had been hurt somehow, but there was no sign of an injury. Luffa almost wished there had been. It would be far easier to treat a physical wound. She put one arm around Zatte, then leaned over her to reach the computer terminal. There was no time to comfort her now, not while the fleet was still in a combat zone. Satisfied with the ship's status readouts, Luffa opened a channel with the Saiyan Free Company's flagship.

"Get control of your people, Princess," Luffa said as Seltiss' image appeared on the viewscreen. "I see SFC ships trying to land on the planet, fighting each other..."

"We're going to surrender," Seltiss said.

"What?!" Luffa shouted.

"You heard what my father said," Seltiss replied. Luffa could tell that Seltiss was upset. The teenage Saiyan was doing her best to hide it, but it wasn't enough. They had all come to this planet expecting to take Rehval completely by surprise, and he had turned the tables on them all.

"I don't give a damn what he said," Luffa growled. "We came here to kill your father. It's just going to take longer than we thought, that's all."

"He took your best shot and bounced it back at us," Seltiss said. "It's over, Luffa! He's too strong for you. For... any of us. All we can do now... is admit defeat."

"You fool!" Luffa shouted. "He doesn't give a damn about any of you! He just wants you to take that potion of his, and then you'll under his thumb forever!"

"And how is that any different from what you wanted?" Suddenly Xibuyas stepped into view and stood beside Seltiss. He was Luffa's son, though Rehval had acquired the boy and somehow matured him to an age of sixteen. Another piece of the family that Rehval had stolen from her.

"Katem, listen to me," Luffa began, even though she knew he wouldn't. She wanted so badly to believe that he belonged to her, at least in some small way. She wanted him to see her with something other than hate and envy, but it was hopeless.

"Listen to you? Or what?" Xibuyas demanded. "You'll attack us? Kill us? We only joined forces with you because of your power, and now it looks like Rehval has beaten you at your own game! It's not the way I wanted this to end, but at least you've been exposed as the fraud you are! As if any mere woman could be a 'Super Saiyan'."

"You're wrong," Zatte mumbled to herself, so quietly that only Luffa could hear. "It's not her fault. It's mine..."

"That's enough, Xibuyas," Seltiss said before he could say any more. "Luffa, I'm sorry it turned out like this, but he's right. You didn't mind bossing everyone around when you were the one on top. I have to do what's right for my people. If we don't surrender to him now, he'll just hunt us down later and destroy us. There's nothing else we can do."

Luffa said nothing. She just stared at them in disbelief. After a few seconds, Seltiss closed the channel.

"It's because of me," Zatte said. "Luffa, I never meant for this--"

"It's not you're fault," Luffa insisted. "He got ahold of a sample of your DNA, and he studied it until he found a way to replicate your powers. It's not like you gave it to him."

"He never would have known about me if I hadn't been with you!" Zatte protested. "I was so stupid. I could have just died on Dorlu Prime when the Tikosi invaded, or you could have killed me on the Makyo Star... Then he never would have been able to stop you--!"

"That's enough!" Luffa said. She pulled Zatte up by her shoulders and lifted her out of her chair. "You're a survivalist, aren't you? I need you to focus. He can manipulate energy the same way you can, and he's got a whole planet powering him, but that doesn't make him unstoppable! We can still come up with something, we just need to regroup!"

Before Zatte could say anything, Luffa noticed a flashing light on the console, indicating a priority transmission. With an irritated grunt, she lowered Zatte to the deck, then turned to answer the call.

"Booth," Luffa said when she saw the man on the viewscreen. They had left him and a reserve force at the Gelbo System, halfway between Nagaoka and Federation space. Like Seltiss, he appeared to be troubled, but determined not to show it.

"Luffa," Booth said. "I'm surprised to see you're still alive. I suppose this proves what Rehval said earlier. He really doesn't see you as a threat."

"Don't tell me his telepathy reached you all the way on Gelbo," Luffa said.

"Telepathy?" Booth asked with surprise. "No, I was contacted by Prester Ganzut back home. One of Rehval's rock monsters appeared there, and informed him what was happening on Nagaoka."

"Good, then it saves me the trouble of briefing you," Luffa said. "We need to regroup and link up with your forces so we can plan a new attack. The Saiyan Free Company has switched sides, and--"

Booth knit his brow before he spoke. "Luffa, there isn't going to be a new attack. Not while Rehval is holding Federation planets hostage."

"I can destroy those rock creatures in a few minutes!" Luffa protested.

"Yes, I know," Booth said. "But it would take you two weeks to get back from Nagaoka, and Rehval has promised to destroy Despye before you even get close enough to save it."

"Then I'll defeat him on Nagaoka, and solve the problem from this end!" Luffa insisted.

"And how will you do that?" Booth asked. "If you had the power to destroy his planet, you would have already done it. What else does that leave? A surface attack? Our troops wouldn't last an hour against a hundred Saiyans, and I'm guessing he has a lot more than that waiting down there. Not to mention the entire Saiyan Free Company has joined him, so we'd need to fight them as well. Just what exactly were you planning to do, Luffa? Besides getting yourself killed?"

"What I won't do, Marshall," Luffa snarled, "is bow my head and beg for mercy like a sniveling coward."

Booth sighed. "Right, your honor. I had forgotten what we were really fighting for out here. Somehow I got it in my head that we were trying to protect the lives of Federation citizens. Thank you for reminding me."

"Don't hand me that, you pompous little despot!" Luffa shouted. "You never gave a damn about anyone! All you ever fought for was a chance to seize more power for yourself! Well how many planets can you rule with Rehval lording over you for the rest of your life?"

"More worlds than I'll rule as a corpse, I should think," Booth said quietly. "At least this way, I'll live long enough to find out. I've already contacted the rest of your fleet, Luffa. I'm recalling them to Gelbo, and then we return to Federation space to await Rehval's orders. You're welcome to return along with them, but I had a feeling you wouldn't leave Nagaoka quietly. What happens next is up to you. It was an honor serving under you, Madam Federatrix. Have a splendid death."

He cut off the transmission, just as Luffa was drawing a deep breath to continue shouting at him. The viewscreen returned to its default display, which showed the planet Nagaoka below them. Whatever harsh, defiant words she had in mind never materialized. There was nothing to say, and no one to hear.

Then she felt a slight shudder in the deckplate beneath her feet. The ship had begun to move. Luffa glanced over at the pilot station and saw that Zatte had entered a new course.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm taking the ship out of orbit," Zatte said. She made a pathetic sniffle, then looked back at Luffa and offered a slight smile. "Not to retreat, of course. I just don't want anyone shooting at the ship while you figure out your next move."

But there was no next move, and Luffa knew it. What infuriated her most about Marshall Booth's words was that they made a lot of sense. The only way to beat Rehval was to fight him in the heart of his stronghold, and there wasn't enough power to make that work. Even if Seltiss and the Federation had stayed with her, the odds seemed impossible.

"Sorry for how I cracked up back there," Zatte said meekly.

"Don't be," Luffa said. "Right now you're all I've got left."

"I want you to know," Zatte told her. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you all the way. You can still save them, Luffa. I know you can do it."

She was referring to the Saiyans. Zatte was convinced that Luffa could redeem the Saiyan people from Rehval's control. She wanted Luffa to be accepted by her own kind, and this had fit in neatly with Zatte's other beliefs: that Luffa would change the universe for the better, that Luffa was destined to achieve some great thing, that Zatte was destined to support that holy mission at all costs. But now, Luffa was beginning to think none of those things would come true.

The realization was painful, but it finally lifted the mental block that had kept Luffa from deciding what to do next. There would be nowhere to run, and her pride refused to surrender, so her only choice was to go on fighting, even if there was no realistic chance of winning. Even if that meant disappointing the one woman in the universe who still believed in her. It was a grim admission to make, but with each moment, Luffa felt that it was the only option that made sense.

"I want you to take the ship out of the system," Luffa said to her. She kept staring at the viewscreen as she spoke. "Not too far, but make the jump to superluminous speed, so they'll think we've left."

"Okay," Zatte said. There was a glimmer of hope in her voice. As the ship moved away, Luffa switched the monitor to display the view from the stern of the star-yacht. Nagaoka quickly receded, and when Zatte activated the faster-than-light engines, the entire system quickly shrank into an unusually bright point of light among the stars. Luffa never took her eyes off of it.

"That... that should be far enough," Zatte said after several minutes. "Now what?"

"Set a course for some friendly planet," Luffa said. "It doesn't matter where, but outside of Federation territory. We can't trust them anymore."

You've got it," Zatte said. "But... what do we do when we get there?"

"I'll drop you off," Luffa said. "Then I'm coming back to Nagaoka to finish things. One way or another."

"What?!" Zatte shouted. She leaped up from her seat and grabbed Luffa by the shoulders. "Luffa that's insane. You'd be trapped there. Even if you made it to the surface, what would you do when you got there?"

"There's only one thing left to do," Luffa said. "They have to die. All of them."

"Luffa, no--"

"All of them," Luffa said. "Every last Saiyan. The whole stinking species. It ends here. The lies, the treachery, the cowardice. I'm going to kill them all."

She was trembling with rage. She hadn't noticed it until Zatte put her hands on her arms, but now there was no mistaking it. For Luffa, it only confirmed that this was the right decision.

"Luffa, please, stop and think about what you're saying! How many Saiyans are down on that one planet right now? If they all die, will there be enough left to keep the population going? You'd be driving your own people to extinction!"

Luffa finally looked away from the viewscreen and stared into Zatte's eye. "You know I'm right!" she shouted. "You've seen what Saiyans are capable of. You've seen the depths they'll stoop to. Rehval doesn't care how many people he has to kill to get what he wants. And the rest of them don't care what happens as long as they get to be on the winning team. Nothing matters to them, Zattie!"

She pulled away from Zatte's arms and began to pace angrily around the bridge. "Dammit to hell, nothing matters to them at all! It's all a lie! It's all been lies!"

Zatte rushed to her side and put her arm around Luffa to console her. She tried to speak, to say something comforting, but she couldn't find the words. There were no words. Luffa knew it, and perhaps Zatte was beginning to realize it too.

"Saiyan pride," Luffa said between short, angry breaths. "It's worthless. They'll abandon everything they have just to get a little glory. Freedom doesn't matter to them. Honor is nothing. Rehval's turning them all into... into livestock, and they don't even care."

"You're not like them," Zatte said. "Please, listen to me. I'm begging you. Whatever happens, it doesn't change what you are. You're my wife and I love you."

"I love you too," Luffa said. "But you know I'm exactly like them. I've let you down before. I've betrayed you. I've been more interested in puffing up my ego than in things that really matter. I've just gotten more self-conscious about it, that's all."

"Luffa, no..."

"They have to die," Luffa said. "My species is a cancer on the whole universe. I see that now. This is what I was born to do. I have to destroy my own race for the good of everyone else. Tell me I'm wrong, Zattie. Tell me you don't believe what I'm saying right now."

They looked at each other for what felt like several minutes. At last, Zatte hung her head and sighed. "If he wins... no one will be safe," she said. "And you can't beat him without going down there and beating his followers."

"There it is," Luffa said. "I'm the only one who can do this now."

"He forced you into this!" Zatte said. "If this is how the Saiyans are supposed to end, then it's his fault, not yours! He's the one that tied all of the others to his own fate! He's forcing you to kill them all!"

"Maybe so," Luffa said, "but I think it would have come to this eventually anyway. What else could I do? Where else could I go for a worthy fight? I think this might be how it ended up for Chanisp, or Old Darbock, or the other old heroes. The Saiyans had to rise up and find a way to bring down the Super Saiyans, or else they'd surely be destroyed themselves. Well, this time I'm breaking the cycle, once and for all. The universe will just have to learn to get along without us."

"Okay," Zatte said. There was a long pause, and then: "Okay. If this is what you have to do, then I'll go along with it. All I ask is that you take me with you."

Luffa shook her head. "You know I can't do that. You've seen how powerful Rehval is now. You wouldn't survive. I don't know that I'll survive this."

"I don't care!" Zatte said. "I can't just stay behind while you do this. I have to be there, with you. You're the xan-nil'Dor. If this is your purpose in the universe, then I have to do everything I can to help you see it through."

"I know about all of that," Luffa said. She couldn't bear to look at her. As a child, she might have dreamed Saiyan suitor offering to die alongside her in a glorious battle. But Zatte was no Saiyan, and Luffa was no child. "It's not worth getting you killed," she said as she turned away from her.

"Yes it is!" Zatte pleaded.

Luffa stopped and slowly turned back to face her again. "What are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm saying that if you can't survive this battle, then I... I want to die with you." Zatte said.

The words shook Luffa to the core. "How can you say that? You're a Dorlun," Luffa reminded her. "A survivalist. Staying alive is what you do best."

"None of that matters anymore!" Zatte said. "Right now, I'm not a Dorlun, and you're not a Saiyan, okay?"

She walked towards Luffa and threw her arms around her. "Right now, you're my best friend and my lover and my wife, and I would do anything to be with you for as long as I can. If it costs my life, then so be it."

"Zattie, this isn't like you. You're not thinking straight."

"No, I'm not! I'm thinking that all I want to do is show you just how much you mean to me. Let me die for your cause, xan-nil'Dor. Let me burn with you. Isn't that the way you want it? The two of us dying together in an epic battle?"

Of course it was. The thought of it was too tantalizing to ignore. Luffa had imagined such a glory back on Dorlu Prime, when it was just the two of them against the Tikosi hordes. The last several months of their marriage had been marinated in a fascination with death. Even now, Zatte was caressing the hair on the back of Luffa's head, the way she always did while they talked about how dangerous their last combat mission had been.

Zatte hadn't always been like this. She had changed so gradually that Luffa hadn't really noticed until now. Perhaps she was right. Maybe Zatte wasn't a Dorlun anymore.

And that was what made up Luffa's mind.

"All right," Luffa finally said. "We'll go together."

Zatte looked up from Luffa's shoulder. "You mean it?"

"Of course I do," Luffa said. "You're right. About me, about us. Leaving you behind... well, it just doesn't seem right."

Zatte stepped away from Luffa and took her hands in her own. She was still crying, but the look on her face was joyous. "I... can't tell you how much this means to me," she said. "To be with you, right up to the end. The end. This is it, isn't it?"

"You never know, we might survive this," Luffa said. "But... I doubt it."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Zatte said. "You're going to save the universe, and I'll be with you every step of the way. I won't let you down... I... I... Oh, come here."

She pulled Luffa in and embraced her, cradling the back of her head with her hand.

"I love you," Zatte said. "I know it's awkward for you, but if this is the last chance I get to say it, then I want to say it. You're everything to me. Ha ha, I'm shaking like a leaf right now. I'm actually excited, you know? I never died before. It sounds funny to say it. I'm going to die. I'm frightened, but I don't even care anymore, because I know I'll be with you for the rest of my life. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Luffa said. "I'm... I'm scared too. I don't think this Super Saiyan business turned out the way I had in mind. I hope I didn't screw it up too badly."

"You didn't," Zatte said, her breath hot against Luffa's ear. "You won't. You're perfect just the way you are."

Luffa swallowed hard and made a strange sound, almost like a stifled howl. Zatte held her tightly. She sounded like she was hyperventilating.

"It's okay," Zatte said between rapid breaths. "It's okay. Shhhhh. You don't have to say it. I know how you feel. I've always known. My dear, dear Luffa."

"I know that you know. That's not good enough," Luffa said. "I gotta get this out."

She leaned into Zatte's embrace and took in the fragrance of her hair, of her neck, of the sweat in her clothing.

"You're my wife," Luffa said. "I didn't know what marriage was before you. Every day you've put up with me has been an honor that I don't deserve. You inspire me to push myself to be a better Saiyan... no. A better person. You've even saved my life. I owe you a debt that I can never repay."

"Luffa..."

"I wish it didn't have to be like this," Luffa went on. "That you and I could just stay here forever and hold each other, just like this. But it just can't be that way."

"I know. It's okay."

Luffa kissed her, and for what seemed like a millennium, there was only the two of them, no wars, no legends, no divine plans. When they finally separated, they each wiped the tears from each other's eyes.

"Look at us," Zatte said as she wiped her nose with her arm. "We're about to go off to war and we're bawling like a couple of toddlers."

"Yeah," Luffa said with a sniffle. "Well, I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"Deal."

"I love you, Zattie," Luffa said. "More than I can say. I just want you to remember that."

"Of course," Zatte said.

Luffa embraced her again.

"I love you. And... I'm sorry."

Zatte opened her mouth to ask what she was sorry for, but she never got the chance. Faster than Zatte could react, Luffa had charged her hands with ki, and channeled it into Zatte's body. The resulting shock rendered her unconscious. She gasped, and her left eye widened with surprise, and then she went slack in Luffa's arms.

The enormity of this suddenly hit Luffa, and the tears flowed freely down her face. She wanted to wait for her to wake up so she could explain all of this to her, but of course that made no sense. She would never hear this woman's voice again. Despite the tears Luffa's expression remained stoic, however, as she cradled Zatte in her arms, and carried her the captain's chair.

"I'm so sorry," she said as she lowered Zatte into the chair and adjusted the seat to make her more comfortable. "I really did want you to come with me on this. It'd be even better than you made it sound. I don't deserve what I have in you."

She went to the navigation console and programmed the ship to wait several minutes, and then fly itself along the course Zatte had entered earlier.

"But you can't go," Luffa continued. "No matter how much you want to be there beside me, I can't let that happen. I can't let you die."

Once the autopilot was set, she entered codes to lock out the computer. Then Luffa got up from the seat and knelt down beside Zatte. She ran her fingers along Zatte's cheek, stopping at the edge of the patch that covered her wounded right eye.

"It's because of me and my rotten family that you lost the colony," she said. "Dorlu Prime. My father betrayed you all, and I was too late and too weak to stop the Tikosi. You and Keda were the only survivors, and then we lost her too, because I was too late. And too weak."

Luffa pressed her eyes into the crook of her own arm to dab away the tears. "The Saiyans have to pay for what they've done," she said. "But I can't let you die because of that. You're the only one left from the Dorlu Prime colony. If you die too, because of my weakness... Well, I won't let that happen. You're supposed to want to live dammit. Dorluns are survivalists, and all. But you're ready to throw your life away for me. For me! But... I'm only a Saiyan..."

She stood up and watched the rise and fall of Zatte's chest for a moment, then somehow found the strength to turn away and head for the door. "It's not worth it," Luffa said. "And even if it is worth it... I still won't let it happen. If Providence wants me to do this, then it'll have to settle for my death. No more Dorluns die because of me."

Luffa stood in the doorway and hesitated for a moment. She wanted to take one last look at her beloved, but decided against it.

"G-goodbye, Captain," she said. And then she let the door close behind her.

*******

The star-yacht was large compared to many of the ships Luffa had seen in her life, but the walk to the cargo bay wasn't that long. This time, it felt like hundreds of miles. With each step, she felt the urge to turn back, to return to her wife, even if it was just to take one last look at her. Each step forward was a reminder of everything she was leaving behind, forever.

But she refused to turn back. She allowed herself to feel the grief and sadness, but only so that these emotions could stoke the fires of her rage. The thing within her burned yellow-hot, demanding release. The Saiyans would pay. Jindan would be destroyed. Rehval would die. The universe would be spared their blight forever. It had to be this way. Perhaps one day Zatte might understand that, and forgive her.

As she reached the entrance to the bay, the service droid met her in the corridor. She had nearly forgotten about it.

"PB-2," she said.

"Yes, mistress?" the robot asked. It had come with the star-yacht. PB-2's main function was to roam the ship, tidying up where it could and basically making its former owner feel a bit richer than he would have felt without a mechanical butler. Luffa knelt down to be at eye-level with it.

"I've set the ship on an automatic course. No one's at the controls, so just keep an eye on things and make sure it doesn't hit anything for the next couple of weeks, okay? Zatte's on the bridge. She'll be upset when she wakes up, because I've locked out the controls. Just take care of her for me, would you?"

"Very good, madam," it replied. "When shall I expect your return?"

"I won't be coming back," she said. "Fifteen days from now, I want you to transfer all command codes to Zatte," Luffa said. "The ship will belong to her, is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear, mistress," PB-2 said. The authorization of this was actually a much more complicated than it appeared. In the moment after hearing Luffa's order, PB-2 had silently scanned the sound of her voice, her life sign readings, and her retinal patterns, along with a number of other factors to confirm her identity. These features hadn't originally been part of PB-2's design, but Luffa had paid for the upgrades some time ago, in order to maintain absolute control of the ship.

"Good," Luffa said. "Yeah, good."

She walked into the cargo bay, past Guwar's fresh corpse, and began preparing the small pod for launch. Zatte had acquired this vessel on Ristet IV, and had joked that it was an anniversary present for Luffa. Luffa hoped that, in the future, Zatte wouldn't look back on this gift with too much regret. As Luffa ran through the pre-flight checklist, she noticed PB-2 had followed her inside the bay. For a moment, Luffa assumed that it was going to start disposing of Guwar's body, but instead it followed her to the pod.

"What is it?" she asked the machine.

"Will there be anything else, mistress?" it asked. It's tone was professional and cordial, the same as it had always been. And yet, Luffa couldn't help but hear a touch of sadness in its voice, as though it wanted an excuse to be with her for a moment longer before her final departure.

"I don't know if you can understand this," Luffa said after a heavy sigh. "I sort of hope you can't, because if you do, then I've been treating you like an object this whole time. But... thanks for looking after the place. You've handled a lot of stuff that you were probably never meant to deal with on a yacht, but you performed well. I'm... uh... honored by your service."

"As you say, madam." PB-2 replied. There was no indication that her words meant anything special to it.

"Yeah, I'm probably wasting my breath here," Luffa said. "Take care of yourself, PB-2."

"As you wish," PB-2 replied.

It stood in the corner of the bay, near the door, while Luffa boarded the pod and launched it through the force-field airlock that led into space. Luffa set her course for Nagaoka, and the pod streaked onward to its destination.

Inside the bay, PB-2 waited for a moment, until the bay doors closed. It waited a few minutes more, and then it rolled off to attend to its other duties.

*******

NEXT: No Way Out.

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #lssjluffafic #zatte #ryba booth #seltiss #xibuyas #nagaoka

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popwasabi · 4 years

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Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

“Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU.

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons.

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

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“Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

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(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y’all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant.

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

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ahsokaoswin · 4 years

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The Other Padawan- Chapter 2: Negotiations... and So Much Sand.

Welcome to Chapter Two of The Other Padawan. If you missed it, here’s Chapter One.

Warnings: none

Series Rating: Teen to be safe

Word Count: 1852

Previously on The Other Padawan: Catastrophe in the Outer Rim. Commanders Amara Eberlyn and Ahsoka Tano found themselves assigned to aid Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker during the Separatist assault on Cristophsis. There they struggled to defend the integral heavy cannons. After destroying a shield generator they achieved a narrow Separatist defeat with the arrival of reinforcements led by Jedi Master Yoda. Now we find Master Kenobi and Padawan Eberlyn preparing to negotiate with Jabba the Hutt himself.

Tag list: @itsafreakingtouque

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

The world blurred back to normal as I pulled the lever to drop out of hyperspace. I pulled up next to Master Kenobi with Tatooine stretched out in front of us.

I heard him speak over the comms, “Good job Youngling. I might make a good pilot of you yet.” His voice dropped as through he was muttering more to himself, “I just hope Anakin doesn’t have the chance to teach you any of his tricks.”

“Thanks Master. Tricks you say? I’ll have to ask him about those.”

I felt the “Kriff!” reverberate across our bond, and giggled.

R4 made some very admonishing and apprehensive beeps. I felt the “Can we focus please?” behind them.

“Yes. Right. Don’t worry R4, I’m sure Jabba’s in a good mood.” Master Kenobi responded as he began his descent towards the surface. I followed along with R8 chirping nervously as well.

~~~

Landing is definitely the most difficult part of flying. My stabilizers kicked up dust as I gently lowered the fighter to the ground, trying to keep it as level as possible. I sighed in relief when I felt the familiar thud that meant I had successfully made it back on the ground. “Thanks for the help R8.”I said, to which R8 beeped back at me with a pleased tone.

I stepped out of the fighter and slid my boots around in the hot sand a bit before going to stand next to my master. There was a glint in his eye as he pulled his hood down to protect his face again the suns, “Not a bad landing for your second time.”

I smirked, “Like yours was any better.”

There was a loud bang and the sounds of gears grinding as the main door of Jabba’s Palace opened to reveal a protocol droid surrounded by decidedly shady characters. I pulled my own hood up as we walked towards them.

The protocol droid stepped forward, “We should not keep the wise and powerful Jabba waiting.”

My master’s tone was only slightly sarcastic, “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

We cautiously followed the droid into the dark entrance of the palace, while the other brigands flanked us on all sides. I could feel the tension tainting the Force. My master leaned down to whisper to me, not quite trusting our bond to carry the message, “Let me take the lead here. We don’t want to accidentally cause offense. I’m sure you can sense how on edge the Force is.”

“Yes Master.” My response was just as soundless. I straightened my robes anxiously, noting that their usual blue was dulled somewhat by the low light of the palace. After a moment, we arrived in the main chamber of Jabba’s palace, where he was surrounded by drunkards and dancers. We approached the platform on which Jabba sat as the protocol droid moved to stand next to him.

My master spoke first, “Mighty Jabba, one of our most powerful Jedi is on his way to rescue your son. We will not let you down.”

Jabba, though he apparently understood basic, could not speak it, and so responded in Huttese. I had done my best to pick up a few languages as a youngling at the temple, and Huttese had happened to be one of them, so I understood what he was saying in any case. Nevertheless, the protocol droid relayed what I already knew he had said, “The most gracious Jabba has one more small condition. He demands you bring back the slime who kidnapped his little Punky-muffin.”

My master tried to contain a laugh, “Punky?”

Jabba spoke, which the protocol droid repeated in basic, “Dead or alive,” and then again, “If you do not succeed, Count Dooku and his droid army will.”

My Master bowed and I followed suit, “Thank you, gracious Jabba.”

Jabba glared as he spoke again, followed by the droid, “You have one rotation.”

I felt my master stiffen slightly beside me, but he masked it with a pleasant smile.

Jabba waved his hand and the protocol droid interpreted, “You are dismissed.”

My master discretely motioned for me to follow him. I heard him speak through the Force, “Come on, we need to contact Anakin.” We exited the main hall and walked through a short hallway to an empty room. With the door closed safely behind us, he pulled out his holocomm to contact Master Skywalker. A small image of him appeared with his arm up, likely holding onto one of the supports on a gunship.

“Alright Anakin, here’s the story. Jabba has given us only one planetary rotation to get his son back home to Tatooine safe and sound.”

Master Skywalker smirked as the ship shook, “Won’t take us that long Master.”

“Well take extreme care. We have no idea who’s holding Jabba’s son. When we’ve finished negotiations with him, we will join you,” my master ended the transmission and then turned to me.

“Now we just need to go back in and tell Jabba that Anakin has reached Teth, and that he should be able to retrieve the Young Hutt shortly.”

We walked back into the room and my master informed Jabba of the intel from Master Skywalker.

Jabba turned as one of the men next to him spoke quietly, “Perhaps we should speak to the Separatists again my lord. They seem to be much more efficient.”

The protocol droid didn’t seem inclined to translate, and I knew my master didn’t speak Huttese, so I decided I had to do something.

I stepped forward and responded, in Huttese, “With all due respect, most gracious Jabba, I fear that the Separatists would only try and take advantage of this situation, as is often their nature. Please rest assured that the Republic is taking every measure to ensure that your son is safely returned to you and that we value the life of your son as much as we do your cooperation. The same cannot be said of Dooku and his droid army.”

Jabba looked at me, as though trying to gage me. He then waved and voiced our dismissal once again.

I bowed and spoke in Huttese, “Thank you, mighty Jabba,” and then turned to leave with my master.

Once we were safely outside of the palace Master Kenobi turned to me, “What did you say?” I explained what the attendant had said and that I simply pointed out that the republic was far more likely not to take advantage of his son to work for their own gain when compared to the Separatists. His tone was serious though his eyes were light, “And jumping into negotiations, speaking a language which I do not, to the person we’re supposed to be negotiating with, still falls under the category of ‘let me take the lead’?”

“My apologies Master.”

“You are quite the little Spitfire, aren’t you?” he smiled.

“It would seem so,” I said, grinning.

As soon as we reached our fighters R4 and R8 began a very dramatic retelling of their encounter with some Jawas with a cacophony of beeps. Master and I exchanged a glance before laughing at their antics.

We both climbed into our fighters as R4 continued his assault on our ears.

“I know R4, I want to get out of here too.” My master placated the droid, which finally stopped talking. I began prepping for take-off as R8 programmed the navicomputer. I followed my master as we left the planet, connected to our hyperspace rings and made the jump.

~~~

We dropped out just in front of the flagship cruiser and pulled into the hangar where Captain Cody was waiting for us. I noticed that the landing was significantly easier this time and smiled to myself. Stepping out of my ship, I walked over to where Cody was standing. As my master unbuckled his seatbelt he called, “Captain, tell Admiral Yularen to get under way. We need to reinforce Anakin.”

Cody stood at attention, “Right away, sir,” and walked off to go and find the Admiral.

“Well,” my master jumped down from his ship, “This is certain to be a mess. I think some tea is in order. Would you care for some Amara?”

“Don’t know. Got milk and sugar?”

“As it happens, I do. Why don’t you head down to our apartments and put the kettle on? Milk and one spoon of honey for me. I need to contact Anakin and then I’ll be right behind you.”

I nodded and headed off to go get myself some tea. As it happened, I ended up being very glad that I had taken the time to study the layout of these cruisers beforehand. I got a bit lost as it was, and had to ask a trooper for directions on my way there. Once I eventually found the Jedi apartments, I walked through the common room to the small kitchenette. I grabbed the kettle and crossed to the sink, filled it and set it to boil. I set out cups as I waited, my hands subconsciously finding my braid and fiddling with the woven golden strands. This is going to be the best cup of tea I’ve ever had. That was when the alarm tried to shatter my eardrums. Cringing, I rushed to the door and jabbed the button to open it. I stuck my head out to find troopers running down the hall. I waved as I called one over, “Trooper! What’s the situation?

“We’ve been ordered to prepare to reinforce General Skywalker Sir!”

“Thank you!” He ran off as I turned back to the kettle and sighed. Tea will just have to wait I suppose. I jumped out to join the stream of clones already on their way and started running down the hall.

When I got to the hangar Master Kenobi was already waiting by our prepped fighters, “Truthfully I was hoping you would bring to-go cups.”

I raised my brow incredulously, “You want to bring a cup of tea to a fight?” he shrugged, and I rolled my eyes, “Alright then. So, what’s going on exactly?”

“Anakin has retrieved the Hutt, but he’s also found that it’s the Separatists that are behind the abduction. He’s under heavy fire, so we’re on our way to reinforce him.”

“Sir!” Cody jogged over, “We’re nearly there. Time to get in those fighters.”

“Alright Captain, we’ll meet you down there. Wait for my signal to scramble the gunships,” Master Kenobi gestured to the line of gunships to our left as he turned to jump into his fighter.

“Will do General,” Cody turned to me, “Good luck Commander.”

“Don’t worry Captain, I’ll soften ‘em up for you,” I gave a half-salute before swinging into my own cockpit.

“Heyya R8,” I greeted as I started up the engines and prepped the guns. R8 beeped back a friendly hello.

“Do me a favour and get the stabilizers online?”

R8 whistled and got to work.

“Thanks mate.”

I heard my comm crackle to life, “Alright Spitfire, before you get too far ahead of yourself, just remember to stay close to me.”

“Don’t worry Master, I’ll be right behind you.”

I heard the siren that signalled the cruiser was coming out of hyperspace. As soon as we dropped, my master called out, “Alright here we go. Form up around me and call in, Amara-“

�� “I know, I know, I’m right here.”

The doors opened, and everything was chaos.

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

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sapphicsylvari · 4 years

Text

The Rise of the Dread Fleet - Chapter 1: Liberation

Sorry for the long wait! I’ve had some IRL issues that sapped all my life force, so I wasn’t really in the condition to write - regardless, on we go, Yoho.

Featuring @nouru-vi‘s Captain Sebba! <3 I hope I did her justice.

@tyrias-library

Laughing Gull Island lies ahead, its fortifications looming threateningly on the horizon, along with several ships already sieging the fort, golden shimmers from their hulls.

Vaixx climbs up onto the railings, holding on to a rope.

“Listen up!” his voice bellows over the deck, and the crew turns their attention to him. “The Lionguard are running a major assault on Laughing Gull. Under normal circumstances, we would reinforce their defenses, but nothing about this is normal. Rowan Gaets is dead, and with him dies our control of this ship!” He pauses, looking down at the pirates on deck, leaderless and without direction. Their journey to Lion’s Arch had been put on hold by a large fleet of Lionguard moving south, forcing them to hide. As soon as Vaixx had figured out where they were heading, he’d made a decision. No more hiding. He raises his voice again.

“We are free, my brothers and sisters, and free we will remain! Today, we break Taidha Covington’s yoke and set sail for new horizons! Man the cannons! Light up the sky! Slay the tyrant, once and for all!” Cheers erupt from the crew, as they rush to battle stations and Cariyen at the wheel starts bringing the ship in. Raxxi raises a white flag over their Jolly Roger, signaling the Lionguard not to attack them as the Rascal approaches their fleet. Vaixx jumps off his vantage point and rushes to the front of the ship, and balances up the prow. He’s close enough to make out the happenings on the Lionguard flagship, as it struggles under Taidha’s counterfire. An Asura appears to be leading them, clad in Lionguard Captain’s attire, shouting orders over the roaring battle. Her turquoise hair is whipped by the wind, moving like the arms of a terrible sea creature as she maneuvers about the deck.

“Lionguard!” Vaixx cries out, drawing the Captain’s attention. “You’re wasting your time! There is another way in!” She grits her teeth and gestures to him, beckoning him on board. After a moment’s hesitation, Vaixx orders Cariyen to approach further, until he can comfortably jump off the prow, onto the Lionguard vessel.

He lands on the deck and has to orient himself for a second before he spots the Captain waiting for him.

“Keep the damage coming!” she calls out to her crew, then grabs Vaixx crudely by the arm and chaperones him into what he assumes are her Captain’s Quarters.

The noise dulls behind the closed door and she turns to him.

“Pirate.” she spits the word like it’s profanity. “You have information, then spill it. I have no time for intrigue.”

“Neither do I. I want Taidha gone, just like you.” Vaixx says, keeping his head held high. “There is an underwater passage on the north side of the island, leading directly into the heart of the fort, as a last-ditch escape opportunity. Taidha kept this a secret, and comforts herself in the knowledge that only her Captains know about it.”

“That implies you are one of those Captains?” “Incorrect.” Vaixx crosses his arms. “I was First Mate to one, who recently died. Taidha would take control of my ship if she learned of it, and hunt me to the end of the world, should I betray her. Thus, she must die.”

The Lionguard bares her teeth. “You expect me to just let you go after this is over, don’t you? So you can take over her fleet?”

Vaixx grimaces. “I have no interest in anything related to this woman anymore.” he assures her. “You can continue dulling your claws on her defenses, losing lives and resources with every second, or you can let me aid you. Your choice.”

Seconds later, the door to the chamber flies open and the Lionguard steps out, Vaixx following close behind. “Keep the bombardment up! Buy me as much time as you can!” she orders her crew, then pulls a rebreather from her coat. “You lead the way, pirate.”

Vaixx nods and signals to his crew, then dons his own rebreather and jumps overboard.

The water muffles all sound from the battle, and no marine life has stuck around long enough to become a casualty in this fight. It’s almost peaceful. The peace is disturbed by the Lionguard hitting the water next to him, and a group of combatants from the Rascal approaching them, led by Raxxi.

Vaixx takes the lead.

It’s a long, silent swim around the isle. Vaixx forces himself to remain calm as he guides the group to a small, concealed hatch in the ocean floor. He jams his sword under the heavy trapdoor and levers it open. A cloud of dust spills into the water around them when the door falls open. The Lionguard gives him a long glare before she descends into the tunnel the hatch had revealed. Vaixx follows her.

Taidha Covington’s fortress is strong and the Lionguard assault barely puts her in distress. She has no need to use this emergency escape route yet. Thus, the passage is empty, unguarded, allowing Vaixx’ team to slip inside the fortifications unnoticed.

The tunnel opens up into a small room after rising above water level and the infiltrators can step onto dry ground again. The Lionguard is the first to take off her rebreather. “Very well. Now what?” she asks and Vaixx steps up to her side. “Now we brace for the battle. Taidha is likely surveying the struggle outside from a vantage point. She should be relatively easy to spot once we’re out in the open. “She will also be surrounded by her allies.” The Lionguard remarks sourly, probably regretting going alone. Vaixx can’t blame her. She’s all alone, in an enemy stronghold, surrounded by pirates. “I can make a diversion.” Raxxi pipes up snapping her fingers and letting lightning crackle between them. “All we need is some bad weather.” “Right. You can the others, distract Taidha’s flunkies. My new Lionguard friend and I will finish the job.” Vaixx decides and a displeased noise draws his attention back to said Lionguard.

“I am Captain Sebba.” She introduces herself, then stabs her index claw into Vaixx’ chest. “And I am not your friend, Pirate.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Vaixx responds, his tone equally sharp. “Are you gonna argue about terminology with me or do we want to make the kill?”

Ten minutes later, the final stage of the assault is announced by a crack of thunder over Laughing Gull Island. A raging storm, conjured out of clear skies descends upon the small landmass, vicious winds swirling and straight up lifting pirates off the ground, hurling them in the air, then dropping them. Lightning strikes come down, hitting people and setting fires, all way too calculated to be natural.

Vaixx has left Raxxi at the exit of the building they had been concocting their plan in, guarded by his men as she sits cross-legged on the ground, fists clenched, eyes closed, in deep focus over the hell she’s unleashing upon Taidha’s men.

Captain Sebba, who has revealed herself to be a Mesmer, is holding Vaixx’ hand to keep an invisibility spell up on both of them as he leads her toward one of the larger structures, passing through the chaos that has ensues over Raxxi’s magical storm. Yet again, Vaixx is thankful for his small size, as it makes evading people a lot easier for him. “The spell will fail as soon as we attack.” Sebba’s disembodied voice informs him as the slip into a half-open set of doors and ascend a staircase made of crude driftwood. “She’ll be alone. All we need to do is kill her.” Vaixx responds and stops dead in his tracks. “Do you hear that?”

Heavy footfalls from up ahead, but neither of the two Asura have to guess for long. Taidha Covington herself is barreling down the stairs, cutlass in one hand, flintlock in the other, and expression of raw anger on her face. Vaixx feels a sting of fear as Sebba pulls him to the side, to avoid colliding with Taidha.

“She’s leaving the building!” she hisses and the thin veil of invisibility falls off them both.

Taidha freezes, then whips around, pointing her gun at them. For a second disbelief dominates her features. “Vaixx?” she asks, a mixture of surprise and anger in her voice. “You are behind this?” “Not at all, Admiral.” Vaixx replies sarcastically and mimes a salute. “I just pitched in to help.”

He waits for neither a response, nor Sebba’s contribution. In a flash, he’s upon Taidha and thrusts his cutlass forward. Clashing metal rings in his ears as she parries, forcing his sword arm aside and points her own weapon at his throat. “You little shit.” She growls. “Rowan’ll have your fucking head for this.” “Rowan’s indisposed.” Vaixx responds and avoids backward, just to dive underneath her sword and flank her. “Mutineer!” Taidha curses, just as Vaixx gets her by the shin, severing a tendon. She cries out and a gunshot shakes the building.

Vaixx stumbles back, having yelped in pain. He only barely managed to dodge, causing the bullet to glance his shoulder. His sword drops to the ground as the strength leaves his arm and warm blood soaks his coat sleeve. “Fuckin’…” he snarls and throws his offhand dagger at her, pinning her left arm to the ground and causing her to drop her gun. A breeze of air hits him as Sebba rushes past him, in a daring leap, landing with her knees on Taidha’s stomach and bringing her rapier down upon her.

The scream is cut short by another loud crack of thunder from the outside.

When Sebba steps back, Taidha Covington is dead on the ground, a profusely bleeding stab wound on her chest. The rapier had pierced her heart. For a moment, Sebba looks like a rabid animal, murder in her eyes and blood staining her pretty face and fancy coat, a harsh contrast to her regular demeanor. She turns around, bends down to Vaixx and drags him to his feet.

“Nice throw.” She compliments him, her breathing still shallow as she helps him steady himself. “Will you be fine?” “Nothing a serving of strong liquor can’t cure.” Vaixx groans, trying not to wince as Sebba moves him. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me.” Is her response to that, but Vaixx does sense a hint of respect for him in her voice. “So, you gonna arrest me now?” he asks, as casual as he can. “Oh, I absolutely should!” Sebba says, as she helps him toward the door. “But we had an agreement. And I never go back on my word.”

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #My writing #pirate saga #the rise of the dread fleet #admiral vaixx #captain raxxi

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ladyfogg · 4 years

Text

May I? - 10/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ spacetailor

Faith hurried to Engineering, tying her hair up into a messy bun. Going to battle stations was not what she had in mind when getting ready for the evening. She had thrown caution to the wind, mostly, and put herself out there with Data, despite her anxiety.

It paid off, but now the Enterprise was in danger and there were more important things to deal with. She'd lament about their almost kiss and failed date once the danger passed.

As she sprinted to the lift, another violent hit shook the ship and she stumbled in her heels. "Stupid death traps!" she snapped, kicking out of the constricting shoes. They flew into a corner as she continued on, barefoot.

Engineering was chaotic when she arrived. Geordi was at the warp station, hands moving wildly across the screen. Other Engineers ran around following his orders while Carver manned the shields.

"Carver! Don't you dare let those shields drop below thirty-percent. We need to get the warp core back online so we can get out of here!" Geordi snapped.

"I'm here, Commander," Faith said. "How can I help? What do you need?"

"Diaz, help me with the warp core," he ordered as she took the seat next to him. "Something is preventing us from getting out of here and I can't find the cause."

She wasted no time trying to help him find whatever was blocking them. Another violent shake forced her to brace herself on the console.

"Mr. La Forge, status report!" Picard's voice came in sharp. "Why aren't we moving?!"

"I'm trying, Captain! Warp functions are offline. We're trying to bring them back."

"Try harder! Get us out of here, Geordi."

Geordi swore, slamming his hands down. "Damn it! That last hit knocked a conduit loose."

"Rerouting power to the remaining ones now," Faith said. "Commander, I isolated the problem! Warp power controls were disabled from all Engineering stations."

"To where?"

"No idea! Trying to compensate and restore them now." Faith's console beeped. "Damn it! I can't get them here."

"See if you can reroute to Engineering One. That's where it should go once we do a full reset. I'm headed there now."

"I'll do what I can."

Geordi left his seat and Faith slid into it, taking over main warp control. The room shook and several screens on the walls overloaded, breaking and sending glass flying everywhere. Faith ignored it.

Seconds later, Carver called to her. "Shields have dropped to forty-percent. We can't take too many more hits!"

"Do whatever you need to keep those shields up!" Faith ordered.

"Warp is more important," he argued.

"I know that, Carver! If I can't get warp functions we're sitting ducks. I need as much time as you can give me."

"Move over, I'll handle it." It wasn't until he put a hand on the console that she realized he had abandoned his station.

She smacked his hand away.

"Geordi told you to man the shields! He asked me to deal with the warp drive. Get back to your station, Ensign!"

"You're an ensign too! I'm his assistant. I know this warp core."

"Seriously?! Now is not the time! Get on those shields! That's an order!" Why was he arguing with her? Didn't he just see and hear Geordi's commands before he ran off?

"Don't talk to me like you're my superior just because you're sleeping with the walking calculator!"

Faith saw red. She abruptly stood and whirled around to face him. "Suck a dick, Carver! We are in battle and if you wanna have a pissing contest, I swear on my pretty floral dress I will win. But now is not the fucking time! Man those shields or get the hell out of Engineering!"

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. "Y-You can't talk to me like that!"

"I just did!" She sat back down and continued the bypass sequence. "Ensign Sawyer, relieve Ensign Carver from the shield station. Give me everything you got!"

She heard Ensign Sawyer say, "Aye, sir!" before the young man pushed past Carver to do as she said.

Hm, kind of like the sound of that, Faith thought.

The ship was hit harder than before and more pieces of machinery broke. Sparks began to fly but Faith's eyes never left her console. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw smoke.

"Barclay! Put that out!" she spat.

"Already on it, Faith," Barclay said.

"Diaz! What's taking so long?!" Geordi's voice came through over the com pad.

She was close. So damn close. The system had rebooted and was loading. "Almost got it, Commander! I need twenty more seconds!"

"Shields at twenty-seven percent," Sawyer called. "Weapon systems just went down!"

"Someone get them back up!" Faith ordered.

Another hit came. Just ten more seconds...

"Diaz!" Geordi snapped.

The warp controls turned green. "Done! Now, Commander! Now!"

The core engaged and a second later, they were rocketing through space, away from the battle. Faith remained posed for combat, jaw clenched as she watched the enemy ship grow further and further away on the cracked sensor screen until…

" We made it! We're out!" Geordi announced.

Red alert was turned off and Faith sighed with relief, collapsing in her seat. Her fellow Engineers cheered and a few even clapped her on the shoulder, congratulating her efforts.

Faith turned around to assess the damage. It was bad but most of it seemed to be superficial. Several people were helping others to sickbay. Quickly she could see that there were no fatalities.

"Ensign Diaz, report to the Bridge."

She hit the com pad. "Acknowledged. On my way."

As she stood, she looked towards the others. Those who remained seemed to be waiting for her instructions. "Sawyer, stay on those shields and see how much you can repair. I don't want to be vulnerable when we drop out of warp. Barclay, monitor warp functions and make sure it doesn't get rerouted again."

Her eyes met Carver, who was at the weapon station, face red and jaw clenched. She strolled over to him.

"Something you want to say to me?" she asked with a glare.

He swallowed thickly but maintained eye contact. "I'll be reporting you to Commander La Forge."

"I'll spare you the trouble since I'm headed to the Bridge now," Faith declared. "We could have died because you wanted to throw a hissy fit. I may not be the best on this team, but I'm still on this team . Remember that."

As she walked past, she paused and leaned in close.

"Fyi, I'm not sleeping with Data. But even if I was, it's none of anyone's god damn business. Keep my personal life out of your thoughts."

Satisfied she had said her peace, she made for the turbo-lift. It wasn't until she was alone that the weight of the situation came crashing down. The familiar stirrings of an anxiety attack began and she shut her eyes.

"Halt!" she ordered the lift. It stopped and she took a deep shaky breath before exhaling slowly, repeating the action three more times before she felt she was secure enough to keep going. "Continue."

She wiped away the stray tears that threatened to fall, pulling herself together. A few seconds later, she arrived at the Bridge and the doors opened.

Her eyes immediately went to Data's station and her heart relaxed as she saw him untouched and unscathed, looking as perfect as ever.

Geordi greeted her at the lift with a smile. "Well, done, Diaz. Well, done."

"Thank you, Commander. Sawyer is restoring shields and I have Barclay monitoring warp to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Good idea."

She was aware the other senior officers were looking at her, but her focus was only drawn away from Geordi when Captain Picard approached.

"Ms. Diaz, Mr. La Forge, Mr. Data, in my ready room," he said, motioning for them to follow him. "You have the Bridge, Number One."

Faith caught Data's eye as he joined them and offered him a small smile, which he returned.

She had never been in the captain's ready room. It almost felt like she was being called into the principal's office.

"Ms. Diaz, have a seat," Picard offered her a chair as he took his own. "You look dead on your feet."

"Do I?" Faith looked down at herself and it was only then that she realized she was a mess.

Her dress was covered in soot and scorch marks. The broken glass from the screens had made small cuts on her arms and legs. Her bare feet were cut as well and she noticed a drop of blood fall from her cheek to her chest.

She was hit by a wave of dizziness as the last of her adrenaline faded. "Oh dear." She swayed but was caught by Geordi and Data. Picard half-stood to help but sat once he saw they had her.

They helped her sit. Geordi took the seat next to her while Data stood by her side.

"Are you injured?" Data asked.

Faith shook her head. "I don't think so. Not badly. I think everything just caught up to me. I'll be okay."

"That was some fine Engineering work, Faith," Geordi said.

"Thank you, sir," she said. He had let her go but Data's hand remained in hers, his other resting on the back of her chair.

"Let's discuss the matter at hand. The odds of an unknown enemy suddenly attacking the Enterprise an hour after we disabled a makeshift transmitter are slim to none," Picard said.

"I agree," Data said. "The timing is all too convenient. Whoever made the transmitter must have been contacting the ship that attacked us."

"We're heading to the nearest starbase for repairs immediately, but this investigation just became more urgent. I've been in contact with Starfleet but they can offer no solutions at this time. They are concerned that the flagship of the Federation was seemingly boarded by a secret enemy. I want the three of you to figure this out fast ."

"I'll pull whoever I can from Engineering to start dismantling the transmitter and studying it," Geordi said. "It's construction is too unique to be random."

Picard nodded. "Make it so. Lieutenant Worf is already organizing a full security sweep of the Enterprise from top to bottom. We will find whoever is responsible."

He turned his gaze on Faith. "I am handing full control over his investigation to Commander La Forge. In the meantime, I'm making you Second-in-Command. Assist him with whatever he needs...Lieutenant."

"I'll do my—" Faith paused, registering what he said. "Sir?"

Picard smiled. "I am promoting you to Lieutenant. Today proved you're more than capable and ready. If it wasn't for you, I doubt we would have gotten very far. Mr. La Forge and I had discussed this a while ago but it was only recently the discussion resumed. Now is a good a time as any."

Faith looked at Geordi who gave her an encouraging smile. "You've earned it, Faith."

"Thank you," she said, looking back at Picard. "I won't let either of you down." She suddenly remembered what happened with Carver and her excitement quickly disappeared. "Uh oh."

"What?" Geordi asked.

She winced. "There was an...altercation with Carver, sir. He refused to stay at the shields and said something inappropriate and I may have said something I shouldn't have, especially as I'm now his superior."

"What did he say?" Picard asked.

"He insinuated I was given special treatment because I slept with…" She paused. "...with a superior officer."

"He said what?!" Geordi exploded.

Picard held up a hand to silence him "What did you say in return?" he asked Faith.

Faith felt her face grow hot. "I...told him to suck a dick."

Picard planted his face in his hand while Geordi snorted, his anger on hold as he tried to hide his amusement. He failed miserably.

"I'm sorry! I know it was unprofessional but we were in danger and he was being a…" She stopped herself. "It won't happen again."

"I should hope not," Picard said. "I'd rather not have my officers yelling such things at one another."

Geordi's shoulders were still shaking as he held in his laughter.

Data looked confused. "I do not understand the reasoning behind telling someone to perform fellatio, or why Commander La Forge finds this so amusing."

At this Picard held back an amused smile. Faith was utterly embarrassed. "It's, uh, a rather crude way of telling someone to shut up," the captain explained.

"Ah. I understand," Data looked down at Faith. "I am sure you had a good reason to say such a thing. Especially since he was spreading false information."

"Commander La Forge will handle the proper disciplinary action for Ensign Carver. Now," Picard stood and adjusted his uniform. "Mr. Data, escort Lieutenant Diaz to sickbay and then to her quarters. Mr. La Forge, return to Engineering and assess the repairs we need. Dismissed."

Faith's head was spinning and this time it wasn't because the adrenaline had worn off. Data helped her to her feet while Geordi led the way out of Picard's room.

As they stepped onto the main Bridge, Riker shot her a smile. "A little overdressed for an enemy attack, are we?" he teased, both he and Deanna giving her and Data knowing looks.

"Yeah, well, my date was interrupted by torpedoes so I didn't have time to change," Faith muttered. She felt Data squeeze her hand.

"Or put shoes on apparently."

"You try running in heels, Commander, and see how far you get."

There were a few chuckles from the rest of the staff, including Picard who took command back from Riker. Geordi took the turbo-lift to Engineering while Faith and Data took one to sickbay.

"I am glad you are not severely injured," Data said once they were alone.

"I'm glad you're not injured too," she said, leaning into him. She rested her head against his chest and took a deep breath.

"I assume our dinner did not count as our first date."

Faith chuckled. "No. No it did not. Though I am very disappointed our kiss was interrupted."

"Would you like to try again?"

"Maybe later. When I'm not covered in grime and blood, and we're not riding the turbo-lift. But I appreciate the offer."

"I understand."

The lift came to a stop and they exited, heading for sickbay. They weren't the only ones going in that direction.

Dr. Crusher and her staff were swamped with patients, all injuries ranging from minor to severe. Beverly passed them as she ran by, giving Faith a once over.

"I'll get to you as soon as I can," she said.

They watched her go and Faith sighed. "I can handle this myself if you want to go. I'm sure you have somewhere more important to be."

Data cocked his head and stared at her curiously. "What could be more important than making sure you are taken care of?"

Faith felt her cheeks grow warm. "Charmer."

"I did not say it to charm you. It was merely an observation."

They stood off to the side. Data still held her hand, the other placed on her lower back. The weight of it gave her a focal point, something to keep her thoughts from racing.

It took time for a bed to become available but once it did, Data helped her onto it. Faith was beginning to feel the pain that came from being in a battle. Her neck was sore from whiplash and her cuts were starting to burn with irritation.

"That's pretty deep," Beverly said when she finally approached them. Gently she took Faith's face in her hands and turned her cut cheek towards the light. "Do you know what caused it?"

"Glass from the monitors."

Beverly passed her tricorder over Faith. "Thankfully I'm not picking up any fragments of glass in any of your wounds so I don't need to do anything invasive. The dermal regenerator should work just fine. Anything else?"

"Just minor scrapes," Faith said.

Beverly nodded and pressed the hypospray to her neck. "This should help tissue regeneration for those smaller cuts, as well as any pain or discomfort. Let's just take care of your cheek and you'll be right as rain."

One zap from the dermal regenerator and Faith's face was cut free.

"There, all set," Beverly declared with a smile. "You should be good as new by the morning."

"Thank you, Dr. Crusher."

"You are very welcome. And I was very happy to see your message this morning."

"Yeah, well, a certain android had a very persuasive argument."

They both looked at Data who had been standing diligently by her side. "She is referring to me," he chimed in.

Beverly chuckled and Faith saw her eyes linger on their still joined hands. "I gathered as much. You're free to go, Faith. Get some rest."

"Thanks. Doctor."

It wasn't until Data led her back to her quarters that Faith realized he was being awfully quiet. She unlocked her doors and pulled him inside with her, expecting him to resist or take his leave. He did neither. When the doors closed, their hands separated for the first time since they entered Picard's office.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked as she turned to face him. "You're unusually quiet."

"I am processing."

"Processing what?"

"Several hundred things at once," Data said, watching as Faith loosened her messy bun. "This is the second time I have witnessed you with blood on your face. I do not like the image."

She smiled. "You worried about me, Data?"

"In a sense," he said. "My lack of feelings do not permit me to worry."

"If it makes a difference, I also would not like to see you injured or dismantled."

Faith was exhausted and needed a hot shower. "I should clean up. You're welcome to hang out for a bit if you'd like to talk once I'm done."

Data smiled. "I would, thank you." He sat on the couch to wait for her.

Faith left to wash the dried blood and soot off her, saddened that her new dress had been ruined. She had spent hours agonizing over whether or not to dress up for dinner and while it had been the right move at the time, going into battle gussied up was not something she wanted to repeat in the future.

She cleaned as fast as she could so she wouldn't keep Data waiting. When she finally emerged, she wore an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

She paused in the doorway, her face breaking into a smile. Data had not moved from the couch. He remained exactly where she left him.

Faith crossed the room, suddenly shy. This was Data, her friend. There was no reason to be nervous and yet her heart was threatening to escape her ribcage. And she wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Are you feeling alright, Faith?" he asked as she took the seat next to him. "Your heart rate has spiked significantly."

"I'm fine." At his doubtful look, she chuckled. "And I really mean it this time."

They sat in silence, neither seeming to know how to proceed. Faith was a jumble of emotions, her head spinning from the failed date, to the battle, to the argument, to the promotion...all on an endless loop. She was unaware her breathing had picked up until Data put his hand on hers.

When she looked at him, he gave her a reassuring smile. "The danger has passed."

She sighed and slumped against him, shutting her eyes as she focused on her breathing. Data's arm came around her shoulders, his other hand still holding hers like it had before.

"I do not know what to say to offer comfort," he admitted. "I have talked you through your anxiety previously but I understand these are different circumstances."

"You don't need to say anything, Data," Faith said in a hushed tone. "You just being here is more than enough."

"Because my presence makes you feel safe?"

She recalled her words from that morning and smiled. Had it really only been that morning? A lot had happened, and changed, in the span of one day. Such as it was aboard the Enterprise.

"Yes, Data. I can't explain why, but you make me feel safe."

"I am honored to provide you with such comfort, though I lack the emotional capabilities to understand how."

Faith pulled away to look at him. "Data, let me ask you something," she said. "If you don't have any semblance of emotion, how is it you are able to care?"

"I only wish to see my friends happy."

"Exactly," Faith said. "If you had no emotions, if you were incapable of feeling anything, you wouldn't try so hard. You wouldn't care so much." She squeezed his hand. "You would not be sitting here right now."

"Captain Picard ordered me to escort you to sickbay and your quarters."

"Did he order you to hold my hand? Did he order you to stay with me even if I let you leave? Did he ask you to sit in the dark waiting for me while I cleaned up?"

Data processed her words, eyes dancing from left to right as they fixated on hers. She had spent enough time with him to know when he was calculating. So she waited for him to reach his conclusion.

"No, he did not."

"So why did you?"

"Because I…" Data paused. "I...do not know."

Faith reached out to lay a gentle hand on his cheek. "Because you felt like you should. Because you wanted to. Because you care. "

Data's eyes continued to search hers and when she saw his gaze drop to her lips, she stared at his as well.

"May I kiss you now, Faith?"

"Please do."

Her hand dropped from his face while both his cradled hers, holding it as if she were fragile. She supposed to him she was. She didn't feel like she was. Not right there and then. Not when her eyes slowly closed and his lips finally touched hers. Not when her body erupted with a flurry of emotion she was not prepared for.

He did not move, only pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss which lasted a mere few seconds. It felt like a lifetime to Faith and when he drew back, her eyes fluttered open.

They stared at one another, enraptured.

Faith gently placed her hands around his wrists, silently urging him to stay right where he was. She didn't have the luxury of a perfect memory. She needed time to study the way he looked as he stared at her through the dark, the lights of hyperspace flying past her window.

"Was that sufficient?" he asked, voice even softer than usual.

Faith smiled. "Yes, it was. Do it again."

Data kissed her again, the same soft press of lips, the same calculated precision. And she felt the same flood of emotion. Then his mouth started to move. It was subtle and ever so slow, but it sent tendrils of desire rocketing through her body, where they settled into her gut and tugged.

All at once, it became too overwhelming and it was she who drew back this time, panting softly.

"Wow." was all she could manage to say.

"I assume that means you enjoyed our kiss."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a safe assumption."

"I did as well." Data released her face, hands running down her arms until their hands were joined. "However, it is late, and we will have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I suggest you go to sleep."

"Sure, kiss me like that and then leave. I see your game, Data. Keep me wanting more," she teased, the edges of sleep making its way into her voice.

Her body was fatigued beyond belief and though desire still remained present, she knew he was right. Tomorrow was a brand new day and a brand new promotion; she needed to be at her best.

Data raised his eyebrow. "I do not believe engaging in sex would be wise this late in the evening."

Faith laughed. "I was teasing," she assured him, letting his hands go as they both stood. "But don't think I've forgotten about that 'fully functional' remark. We're definitely going to talk about that at some point. I have questions."

"Noted."

She walked him to the door. He paused before leaving, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"I will see you in the morning."

Faith smiled and watched as the doors opened for him and he stepped out into the hall. "Good night, Data."

"Good night, Faith."

#commander data #lt commander data #data tng #data soong #star trek next generation

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d3-iseefire · 5 years

Text

@strictlynofrills - Here you go! I’ sorry it took so long! I was writing it on work breaks and after I got home! hope you enjoy it! :D

"Look out!"

Bilba barely had time to register the words before a short, hyperactive blur darted across her path. She sucked in her gut and twisted, simultaneously lifting the two full trays she'd been carrying in each hand.

As she did she crouched ever so slightly, trying to keep her movements as fluid and seamless as possible. On the trays two full glasses wobbled and Bilba tensed. Then they settled and she let out a slow breath in relief.

A smattering of applause came from a handful of patrons and Bilba took a careful, partial curtsey in gratitude. A few feet to the side, the small boy that had nearly caused her to trip had the good manners to look embarrassed. "Sorry."

"That's all right," Bilba said, keeping her voice modulated and soft. "Let's just leave the running for the playground in the future, okay?"

He nodded and resumed his trek toward the bathroom, still moving quickly but no longer in a full out run.

Bilba shook her head, struggling to ignore the way her legs wobbled beneath her, and resumed her trek into the restaurant's dim room. She'd never particularly cared for mood lightning before but was grateful for it today as the bags under her eyes were especially dark and makeup had done little to cover them entirely.

No one wanted a waitress who looked like she'd stepped out of a zombie movie.

She wound her way around glass topped wooden tables and chairs wrapped in plum colored leather, navigating pushed out chairs and sprawled personal belongings with ease.

Many of the tables were occupied with regulars and she greeted each with a bright smile as she set down appetizers, entrees, desserts and drinks. Quiet, relaxing music played over the low, steady flow of conversation and she saw more than one female guest slide off uncomfortable looking heels to sink sore toes into the plush carpeting.

Shire had been designed to be both upscale and cozy. Patrons could expect a high-class experience, but one where they also felt comfortable and relaxed. It was a place to bring a date, hold a business meeting, or just come and relax over a glass of wine after a long workday.

It'd be a perfect place to sleep too, Bilba thought, gazing with longing at the padded booths. She sighed and forced her eyes away, focusing instead on a familiar figure in a darkened booth at the back of the restaurant. Bilba saved him for last, in the hopes of being able to spend a minute or two speaking to him. As she sat his plate down he smiled up at her fondly. "And how are you doing tonight, my dear?"

Bilba glared at him. "Don't give me that, Gandalf."

The elderly man raised an eyebrow innocently. "Is there a problem?"

"You know darn well there is." Bilba gave into her fatigue just a little and slid into the booth across from him. Her head was pounding with the promise of a headache and she had that all over ache that was her body's way of telling her she should have gone to bed days ago. It had become almost a part of her over the past year and there seemed to be no getting used to it no matter how much coffee she drank.

She lowered her voice to a low hiss, not wanting to disrupt the other guests. "You didn't tell me everything about the new maitre d'."

The older man's other eyebrow slowly raised. "Did I not?" He lifted his wine glass and took a sip. "I'm certain I was quite thorough."

Bilba's glare deepened. Gandalf was an old family friend, and also one of the most prominent lawyers in the city. He'd been the one to convince her that trying to run Shire completely alone, filling the role of owner, manager, and maitre d' was simply insane. He'd offered to find her someone trustworthy and reliable to help with some of the workload, and she'd reluctantly agreed.

A few weeks later he'd brought her a name. Fili Durin. Bilba had recognized the last name as belonging to the past owners of Arkenstone, an internationally known, high end restaurant. At its height people were making reservations a year or more in advance and, those lucky enough to get in and actually afford something, would be guaranteed to find themselves in the midst of the world's most famous and powerful people.

The last Durin owner, Thrain, had made a series of increasingly bad business decisions that, ultimately, had resulted in a hostile takeover by Smaug Drakestone. He was the owner of Drakestone Barbecue, a retail federation of chain, fast food restaurants. The day he'd taken over, he'd turned Arkenstone into the flagship for his chain, much to the public outcry of the culinary world.

The Durins, driven into near bankruptcy according to rumor, had faded from the public eye and gone unheard of by anyone for years, or at least before Gandalf had held up that slim file. Bilba had been impressed with his education and degree in both culinary arts and hospitality but had been far less enthralled with his lack of experience.

When she'd pointed that out to Gandalf the man had simply chuckled. "Are you sure you're the one to be making that judgement, my dear?"

The words had brought a flush of red to her cheeks, as well as an ego check. Bilba had never wanted to work in the restaurant industry and had taken little interest in Shire as anything more than a way to get free gourmet food whenever she wanted. She'd been going to school for a degree in creative writing when...everything had happened.

It had been a trial by fire for her, trying to learn what she needed to know to ensure her parent's dream didn't die with them, and there were certainly days where she couldn't say for sure if she was sinking or swimming.

Most days she was pretty sure it was the former.

"What the boy lacks in experience he makes up for in passion," Gandalf had said gently to ease the sting of his prior words. "Much like someone else I could name. Give him a chance. I have a feeling you won't be disappointed."

Bilba had agreed, trusting the other man to not steer her wrong.

It was a decision she both loved and deeply regretted at the same time.

"Has the boy not been doing a satisfactory job?" Gandalf asked now, brows pulling together in concern.

"On the contrary," Bilba mumbled. "He's done an amazing job."

More than amazing, really. Fili was the first one in and often the last one out. He manned the front desk, managed the staff, kept schedules up, and still somehow managed to learn the names of their patrons as well as their likes and dislikes. He had the uncanny ability to gauge a person's personality after a few seconds of speaking to them and organized the seating to ensure people were not seated next to personalities that would clash with their own. Shire's approval scores had gone up over 15% since he'd started, and the pressure on Bilba's shoulders had gone from crippling to simply overbearing.

Hell, she'd been averaging almost five hours of sleep a night, not taking into account this past week when Fili had been gone.

"Well," Gandalf asked in confusion. "If that's not the problem, my dear, then wha--"

His voice trailed off as a presence fell over them. Bilba felt her gut clench. Oh no. She'd forgotten he was supposed to be back that night.

"Ah, Mr. Durin," Gandalf said cheerfully. "What a pleasure to meet you again."

"The pleasure is mine," a familiar bass said and Bilba's insides literally begin to do a full on, Olympic style gymnastics routine. Bastards. "Miss Baggins--"

He didn't get a chance to say anything else as Bilba jumped to her feet, planning to...do...something...only to feel her hand smack into the tray she'd set on the edge of the table when she'd sat down.

The one she'd collected a few empty dishes and sets of cutleries on, intending to take it back with her.

In almost slow motion she watched as the entire tray flipped off the edge of the table. The loud clatter of knives, spoons and forks hitting the ground ripped through the serene atmosphere of the dining room, along with the unmistakable shattering of glass as the carpeting failed to save the three plates and near empty soup bowl as they impacted.

Most restaurants had tile floors for just such situations, Bilba found herself thinking irrationally as she watched the remnants of dark liquid soak into the tan covered fibers. Her parents had liked the carpet, insisting it gave a homier feel to the place. They hadn't minded having to deep clean the carpets on a near weekly basis to ensure they stayed looking their very best.

Bilba minded, very much. Particularly since, as of late, it had all been thanks to her that they needed to be cleaned to begin with.

Total silence fell over the restaurant, and Bilba felt her face catch fire. She focused on Fili's shoes, the black leather marred by drops of soup, and her heart sank.

"Sorry." She started to drop to her knees, only to stop as his hand closed lightly over her arm to stop her.

"Careful," he said mildly. "You don't want to kneel in broken glass."

Bilba's eyes flicked to his really intense, blue, eyes and an almost electric charge surged right through her. She straightened, fighting a wave of dizziness, and focused on the ground. It was the only way she could to avoid noticing his dark blond hair, or chiseled features, or the way his body filled out his suit -- and, really, who the hell decided maître d's had to always wear suits? Okay, so it wasn't like she minded, much, but she was like five seconds away from having a heart attack at any given moment so that was a problem and -- what was she doing again?

Oh, right, broken glass and humiliation and he was still touching her.

She jerked her arm free with a nervous laugh that she prayed didn't sound borderline hysterical or insane like it did in her head and knelt more carefully.

To her surprise, he knelt next to her. For the first time, she noticed he held the tray in his hand and she realized she hadn't heard the loud clang of it hitting. "Did you catch that?"

"An acquired trait," he said dryly, as he picked up utensils and the larger bits of broken glass. He sounded amused, or at least Bilba hoped he did.

He stood, and Bilba rose with him, closing her eyes this time and breathing through her nose to try and keep her feet. Fili handed her the tray with no small amount of trepidation. Bilba focused on broken bits and pieces of dishes on the tray and, before she could embarrass herself farther, spun and returned to the kitchen, past one of the other servers who was already headed to the area with a vacuum to finish cleaning.

***

Fili watched the young woman until she vanished through the swinging doors of the kitchen. She looked exhausted. She normally looked exhausted, but far more so tonight. Mentally, he kicked himself for having stayed away so long. He should have tried harder to get back earlier.

He sighed and turned back to the booth. He completely ignored the roar of the vacuum as it made quick work of the remaining broken glass and, around him, the rest of the room slowly followed his lead and returned to their own meals.

Once the clean up was finally done, he flashed a smile at Gandalf. "As I was saying, it's good to see you Mr. Grayson."

The older man looked positively delighted by something, and Fili's eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to figure out just what it was.

From the kitchen a second, loud, crash rang out and Fili closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. "I'm almost afraid to see how much we lost the last five days I was gone."

"I have a feeling you'll find it to be nothing at all," Gandalf said with amusement. "Bilba happens to be the best waitress Shire has."

Fili raised an eyebrow. "Is she?" he asked doubtfully.

"Indeed," Gandalf said. "In fact, she took over your place while you were gone."

There was the slightest hint of censure in his voice and Fili nodded with a grimace, remembering again the deep bags under her eyes. "My grandfather passed away unexpectedly and the funeral was out of town."

He'd been worried over even asking for the time off, funeral or not. He'd e-mailed, believing he could sound calmer and more professional, or at least that's what he'd told himself. In reality, he'd been cringing at the thought. He'd been there a month and was already asking for four days off? He'd expected his request to be rejected out of hand but, to his surprise, the response had been there when he'd awakened the next morning, granting him a full week off, with pay.

"I wanted to thank you," he said now to Gandalf, "for taking a chance on me. I'm in your debt."

His entire family was. It had been a struggle after...everything had happened. They'd needed jobs, and fast, whatever was available that could keep them from losing the last few things they had. Fili had managed to get through college on grants and scholarships, hanging everything on his uncle's conviction that, one day, Arkenstone would rise again. His mother had been against it, having never loved the restaurant to begin with, but Fili had been raised hearing about Arkenstone and his uncle's dreams had quickly become his own.

It was only recently, very recently, that they'd had the luxury to begin thinking about the culinary and restaurant world again. Fili was the first to get a foot through that door, and the hope that had flared to life on his uncle's face upon hearing the news had made every moment of school, and every late night so far at Shire, worth it.

"While I'd like to take credit for it," Gandalf said. "It was Bilba who ultimately took the chance."

"Yes," Fili's eyes flickered toward the kitchen where the silence was beginning to worry him. A working kitchen was no place for someone as exhausted as she clearly was. "In any event, I'm grateful to you both."

"So it would seem." Gandalf's eyes narrowed in contemplation, and then he nodded toward the kitchen. "What do you think of Miss Baggins?"

Fili frowned. "She needs to take better care of herself," he said without hesitation. "She's no good to anyone, least of all herself, if she's near dead on her feet."

Again, a flash of guilt raced through him. Part of the reason he'd been hired was to take the burden off her. He made a mental note to work even harder to make up for the extra load she'd had to take on while he'd been gone.

"She cares deeply for her parent's legacy," Gandalf said. He seemed about to say something else but thought twice about it, and simply gave Fili a slight smile.

Taking the hint, Fili nodded and took his leave, not wanting the man's food to get cold.

He spent the rest of the evening managing the room, speaking to guests and politely ignoring the flirtatious grins of at least three young women. Once the last customer had left he oversaw clean up and closing, before walking several of the female servers out to their cars to ensure they weren't harassed in the parking lot. Security was on his mental list of things Shire could use but he hadn't felt it was his place to suggest it just yet.

Bilba hadn't reappeared since the incident earlier so, after he'd locked the front door, he headed toward the back hallway. The door to the main office was shut but there was a light shining out from underneath.

He hesitated, and then knocked lightly on it. When there was no response, he cleared his throat and said, "I just wanted to thank you for granting my time off request and assure you I don't plan to abuse the privilege. I know you took a chance on hiring me, and I intend to make you happy you did."

He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. Happy you did? Mahal, could he be anymore cringey? He started to say something else, decided he'd said enough already, and nodded at the closed door. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

Mentally, he hoped she was in there taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep. He personally doubted it, but one could always hope.

***

On the other side of the door, Bilba stared down forlornly at the glass of wine she'd knocked over when Fili had knocked on the door. She hadn't realized anyone was still there so late, let alone him.

Talk to him, her internal voice had scolded as he spoke. It's not hard. Just open your mouth and say something. Preferably not inane. Or cringey.

That thought unfortunately conjured the memory of before he'd gone on vacation, when she'd managed to spill and entire pot of, thankfully, cold soup that had been on its way to being thrown out. On him. She'd managed to spill it, on him. Then she'd gone back to the larder to get some more...something...and walked in on Fili mid shirt change.

"Sorry," he'd said, with a low swear as she'd stumbled to a stop. "The only other place is the bathroom, and I didn't think patrons seeing the restaurant's maître d changing would be that professional."

Bilba was pretty sure the sight of him without a shirt on would cause a minor health crisis, but it would probably have not been the most professional thing to say.

Her eyes seemed to superglue themselves to his chest and, as much as her mind screamed at her, they were determined to stay just where they were.

Look away, Bilba's voice had screamed at her as her eyes had laser focused on his chest. Look away! Or better yet, leave!

She'd done neither, because she was a walking HR complaint, and he'd cleared his throat and slowly pulled his shirt closed.

"Do you need something?" he'd asked and it had taken a lot for her not to tell him that, yes, she needed him to take his damn shirt back off.

Bilba groaned as the memory faded, along with Fili's footsteps as he walked away from the closed door.

She was a terrible boss. She wasn't her parents, or her grandparents before them. She had no training in how to run a restaurant, manage payroll, balance books or anything. Gandalf had helped her as he could, but he had his own business to run. He'd recommended she hire a new team after the old one had up and quit but she'd been hesitant to try. She literally knew nothing. If she chose the wrong people, they could literally destroy Shire, run it into the ground, steal it out from under her and she'd never known until it was too late.

Still...she chewed on her lower lip absently.

Gandalf had recommended Fili and, in the short time he'd been there, he'd been a godsend. Okay, he also looked like a god, which was not helping her heartrate or her supplies budget but, really, he'd taken such a massive burden off her just in the jobs he'd taken up.

She'd recognized it all over again in the week he'd been gone. When suddenly it was up to her once more and the full, crushing weight, had fallen back on her. She was so tired from it that she'd started crying on three separate occasions for no reason.

She didn't want to go back to that, wasn't sure how she'd done it for a year, and now she found herself desperately wanting to continue on the track she was on. To have less pressure, less work, more ability to sleep, or relax or enjoy...anything that wasn't work related.

She'd been mulling, just a little, about the rest of the Durin family. She remembered the stories, how one of the Durin children had nearly managed to save Arkenstone, would have in fact, had Smaug not swept in and cut it all out from under them. The whole family had been involved in the business, from childhood in most cases, and if even a fraction of them were as talented as Fili was...

She chewed on her lower lip and then opened her email. She'd hesitated to do it while he was gone at his grandfather's funeral, but perhaps now? She might not be able to talk to the man without tripping over herself, but she could at least email him, right?

Hopefully.

Dear Mr. Durin,

She paused. Was that too formal? It was probably too formal.

Dear Fili --

Nope.

Mr. Durin,

She sighed, deleted the email and closed the laptop lid. If she couldn't even figure out a salutation there was no reason to go any further. She crossed her arms and dropped her head on them with a groan. She was freezing cold in spite of knowing the temperature was perfectly temperate in the building, and she felt ill.

She was exhausted, in over her head, and couldn't even speak to her own damn employee.

God, she was pathetic.

***

Fili didn't see Bilba when he arrived for work the next day. The light was still on under the office door, however, and he found himself hoping she hadn't been there since the night before. He had no idea how the girl managed to run the restaurant, work a shift and take care of the rest of her day to day life.

Then the memory of the deep bags under her eyes from the night before hit him and he realized the answer to his question of how she did it was probably simple. She didn't.

As he took up his position behind the front desk he snagged the attention of one of the other servers, an older woman named Carla. "Hey, is it true that Bilba ran the desk while I was out?"

She nodded. "She did it before you were hired too and did a fantastic job of it if I may say so. Only hired you because Gandalf convinced her to get someone before she passed out from exhaustion." She sent a concerned look toward the back office. "Girl takes far too much on her own plate. Her parents had a full staff, but she does it all by herself."

Fili frowned. "What happened to the staff?"

Carla huffed in annoyance. "Most refused to work for someone young and inexperienced, a couple others claimed it was too hard to work here without Belladonna and Bungo, as if it were a piece of cake for Bilba to do it." She shook her head. "Assholes, the lot of them."

Fili found he quite agreed. He settled into his role as the doors opened, and fell into an easy rhythm, one that wasn't interrupted until the sound of shattering glass from the bar signified Bilba had left her office.

A hand patted his and he raised an eyebrow at the elderly woman he'd been checking in. She was one of their regulars, coming in almost every day to simply enjoy the company of others. "You know, young man," she said in a voice shaky with age, "you really should do that poor girl a favor and take her out already."

Fili's eyebrow arched higher. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman nodded toward the bar. "Poor thing only gets shaky when you're around, you know." She patted his hand and winked at him from under her hat. "She's a good girl. Not like those hooligans that live across the street from me with their loud music."

She nodded again and wandered past him. Her companion, a man a few years older than Fili's uncle, smiled after her with affection. "Don't mind, Mother. She likes to play matchmaker from time to time is all."

Fili chuckled. "I don't mind at all, Sir. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your seats."

The man nodded, and Fili led them to their table. As he returned to his desk he hesitated, and then deliberately veered toward the bar where Bilba was picking up a tray. It was ridiculous, he thought. She didn't get nervous simply because --

Bilba glanced up, spotted him and proceeded to drop the drink she'd been picking up. It hit the tray, which caused the other three drink to fall and crash onto the bar, liquid flooding the top and leaking down the sides to the floor below.

Huh.

***

Bilba sat on a stool at the bar, head resting on her folded arms. She was in that state halfway between being asleep and awake where her body was heavy, and she felt like she had a bad case of the flu. The restaurant had closed a half ago earlier but the thought of trying to go home, or even just to her office to get started on paperwork was excruciating.

An arm slid around her waist suddenly, and she looked up with a frown just in time to see Fili as he slid an arm under her legs and proceeded to lift her straight up off the chair.

Bilba wrapped her arms loosely around his neck without thinking and shook her head in a futile attempt to clear it. She was so damn tired. "What an odd dream," she mumbled. She relaxed against him and shut her eyes again. She was dimly aware of being carried, and then settled into the seat of a car. "Noooo," she whined, reaching out. "I have to do payroll."

He knelt, one hand on the open door and the other on the edge of her seat. "You need sleep. You try to do payroll now and you're likely to pay everyone in Monopoly money."

Bilba giggled at the absurd mental image, and then groaned as her head began to pound. "I feel awful."

"Because you push yourself too hard." He stood up and shut the door. Through slitted eyes, Bilba watched him walk around the front of the car, her car, and slide into the driver's seat.

"Are you kidnapping me?" she asked suspiciously.

He chuckled, a low rumble, and then turned the key in the ignition, sending the engine roaring to life. "I'm taking you home." He grinned at her. "It's my job to ensure everyone has a pleasant experience at Shire, and that includes my boss."

Bilba grumbled and sank back into the seat, noting absently he'd somehow managed to buckle her in without her noticing. "I'm a sucky boss."

To her horror, her vision blurred, and she shook her head, trying to dispel them the threatening tears. She wasn't usually a crier. It's just a dream, she told herself. Figures she'd managed to screw things up with him in a dream.

"You're not screwing anything up," Fili said as they pulled onto the road. "You're too hard on yourself."

Bilba frowned at him. "Since when can you read minds?"

He chuckled. "You're talking out loud."

"I am not," Bilba grumbled. She sagged back in her seat. "I don't even know how to do payroll."

Fili's eyes flickered toward her, surprised. "Then how have you been doing it so far?"

"Google." Bilba raised a hand to wave through the air. "Google knows all."

"That it does." Fili focused on the road for a few minutes. "I might know someone who could help you in that."

"I'm sure you do." Bilba tried to focus on the road in front of them but it shifted in and out of focus. "I don't know anything about restaurants," she blurted. A few tears escaped on their own and she lifted a hand to wipe them away. She felt cold and shaky and, god, but she just wanted to sleep. "I'm such a screw up."

Fili grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You are not a screw up. A screw up wouldn't be able to keep a restaurant like Shire running for as long as you have, knowing as little about the business as you do. You're just overwhelmed."

The walls of her gated community came into view and Bilba wondered idly how he'd known where she lived.

They pulled up to the gate, and a light shined on them as the guard inside stepped closer.

"Miss Baggins, are you all right?"

"Hi Bard," Bilba managed to mutter. This dream just kept getting weirder. She tried to curl up against the door, but it was next to impossible to get into a comfortable position and, damn it all if that didn't make her want to cry all over again. "I wanna go home now."

She heard a quiet conversation between Bard and Fili and then the guard opened the back door and slid into her car. Apparently, in this dream, she was collecting people like lost puppies.

She heard Fili laugh again but tuned it out in favor of dozing. She was vaguely aware of the car stopping, and then of being carried again. Her house alarm beeped and, when Fili set her on her feet and supported her, she hazily punched in the code to turn it off.

Then she was being carried again and then, blessedly, the sheets of her very own bed were under her. She felt her shoes being tugged off, and then the blankets were drawn over her.

She was sound asleep before they had fully settled.

***

Fili wordlessly followed the guard downstairs again, reset Bilba's alarm and then followed the other man out, locking the door and pulling it closed behind him.

He and Bard walked in silence back to the gatehouse and then Fili headed to the sidewalk just outside the gate pulling his phone out as he did. He dialed, and bit back a grin as a gruff voice answered. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"That I do," Fili leaned against the stone wall, bracing one foot behind him and shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket. "I need a ride."

"Why?" his uncle asked, already sounding more awake. "What happened to your car?"

"I had to give my boss a ride home," Fili answered. "I left my car back at Shire."

"Your boss?" Thorin questioned. "This the one you won't shut up about?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "You know she's trying to run Shire completely by herself?"

"She's insane then?" Thorin asked. "Your mother will be thrilled."

"She's not insane," Fili said, defensively. "She's just in over her head. Anyway, I think she might be open to hiring some more people. You know, people with actual restaurant experience. Managerial, bookkeeping, so forth."

"You talk to her about it?" Thorin asked.

As he did, Fili heard him grunt and swear under his breath as he struggled to get dressed and, most likely, find his shoes. He was always throwing them every which way and taking forever to locate them again. After a minute the phone call cut off entirely as his uncle hung up in frustration. Fili slid the phone into his pocket and leaned back against the wall to wait for the other man to arrive.

"No, he whispered, to no one in particular. "I haven't talked to her about it."

Not yet anyway, but he planned too. Maybe tomorrow, over a cup of coffee if she was willing.

Plastic cups of coffee.

Definitely plastic, and with a lid.

#Writing Wednesday #My Writing #Prompts #Fanfiction #The Hobbit #AU #Restaurant #Female Bilbo #Bilbo/Fili

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erictmason · 5 years

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INKTOBER DAT TWENTY ONE AND TWENTY TWO: Freedom Is The Greatest Treasure (And We Even Have A Ghost On Our Side!)

No matter how many seas will separate us I'll always be there for you Without any fear, heading straight Don't ever forget We fight together

So I might have gone a bit crazy on this one?

For context: recently @thankskenpenders’ ongoing retrospective of the Archie “Sonic the Hedgehog” came across something very rare: a story I didn’t just not remember but in fact had never read before. Said story, “Fairy Tale (Or The Adventures of Pirate Sally)”, is, to be clear, Not Very Good? But the premise was just so 1000% Up My Alley that it lodged itself into my brain anyway, and before I knew it I had in fact dreamed up a whole-hog Pirate Alternate Universe for the Archie “Sonic” crew (with ideas for others not even seen here!). And this is the result! If you want to know the details of these takes on the characters (which I have written at length because again this idea just took me like fire), feel free to check under the Read More.

SALLY ACORN (Captain)

Once, Sally was the Princess of the powerful kingdom of Mobotropolis…until the day, not long after her eighth birthday, the evil Baron Robotnik came to her home. With his mechanized army he ravaged the land and attempted to hunt Sally and all her family down. The King attempted to evacuate Sally, her family, and her closest friends out of the city safely…but the ship meant to take them all to safety was sunk, and all aboard were taken for dead. In truth, however, Sally and her lady-in-waiting, Bunnie, had survived (though Sally had lost an eye in the attack), drifting through the ocean on wreckage from the ship…until they were found by the Dread Pirate Shadow and his young boatswain Sonic. Though Shadow was no friend of the Crown, he ultimately took pity on the lost children and took them under his wing and onto his crew. Years passed; Sally excelled in her duties aboard Shadow’s ship (the Dark Rider), proving herself exceptionally intelligent, fierce in a fight, and able to shape the most effective plans…but always she dreamed of the home she’d lost, and the monster she’d lost it to. Ten years later, having risen through the ranks, Sally was made Captain of the ship when Shadow, for reasons he chose to keep secret, decided to step down and leave for parts unknown. Re-christening the ship The Freedom Stormer, Sally dedicates herself and her crew toward a new mission: acquire enough wealth and forge enough alliances to mount a full-scale attack against Baron Robotnik and reclaim her fallen kingdom.

SONIC THE HEDGEHOG (Gunner)

Sonic has never known his parents or his home; the only memories he has of either are about being on the run. From who? Why? He doesn’t really know the answer to that either. But as a young boy, gifted with supernaturally incredible speed, his aimless travels led him out to sea (an irony, as the hedgehog could not swim), where his tenacity earned him the respect of the Dread Pirate Shadow, who chose to take him aboard his ship as a junior member of his crew. Thus was Sonic there when Shadow took two other children onto his ship, the young Princess Sally and her lady in waiting Bunnie. Sonic had never shared Shadow’s distaste for the crown (indeed he barely understood what that even really meant) so he bonded with Sally very quickly, and the two became nearly inseparable from that point forwards; as time passed, and their bond deepened, the two learned well how they could always depend and lean on each other in times of need, and it helped both to manage the struggles they held in their hearts. When Shadow chose to step down as Captain and handed the mantle over to Sally, Sonic held no jealousy; he’d never desired the role of leadership anyway, and was only too happy when Sally named him the ship’s chief Gunner, allowing him to be at the front lines of the action he so craved. He still doesn’t have that strong an understanding of the politics and conflicts of Sally’s homeland, but he also feels he doesn’t NEED to understand that much: he believes in freedom, and he believes in Sally, and that is motive enough to make him a fiery fighter for the cause he now works so strongly towards.

BUNNIE RABBOT (Quartermaster)

It was a quirk of fate that led Bunnie to become Sally’s lady in waiting: her parents, wealthy land-owners of the long-lived Rabbaeux family, often attended parties at the palace, and every single time they did, Bunnie and Sally managed to find each other, becoming fast friends who could spend hours at a time playing together. Bunnie’s parents and Sally’s thus agreed to make Bunnie Sally’s lady in waiting so that the two could spend even more time playing together, which they did happily until the day of Baron Robotnik’s invasion. Though she and Sally managed to escape the sinking of the ship meant to evacuate them, the attack severely wounded Bunnie’s arm and leg; after the Dread Pirate Shadow took her and Sally aboard his ship, both limbs had to be amputated, and ever since, Bunnie has been outfitted with special multi-functioning prosthetics (upgraded over time as she grew older and thus bigger). Her friendship with Sally has never wavered; the two remain close confidants who place a great deal of trust in each other and it was thus only natural that upon becoming Captain Sally named Bunnie her quartermaster, a role she has fulfilled with her bright spirit, strong fighting skills, and reliable courage. As well, she’s able to keep the ship one step ahead of the Baron’s fleet, as she has formed a secret relationship with the captain of the fleet’s flagship, Antoine D’Coolette.

TAILS (Boatswain)

Not long after Sally was made captain of the Freedom Stormer, a mysterious item crossed the ship’s path: a small life boat, a woven basket the only thing to be found on it. How the boat had managed so long without anyone to steer it was a mystery but even more mysterious was what the basket contained: an infant fox with two tails. There was no indication of where he had come from or why he was adrift at sea, but Sally and the rest of the crew all agreed: as Shadow had done for many of them, so too would they take this child onto their ship and raise him as their own. Sonic and Sally especially took a key role in taking care of the young boy, who they named Miles for the long journey they knew he must have had on that boat, and he in turn grew up to idolize them both, hoping to one day be a great Pirate just like them. For now, though, he helps around the ship as best he can (in particular acting as look-out, since he absolutely loves being high up in the ship’s crow’s nest) helped by his unique ability to fly with his twin tails; indeed he has begun insisting that he be called Tails, following advice from Sonic that he should not be ashamed of his second tail, but instead take pride in it and the special things it allows him to do that others can’t.

ROTOR WALRUS (Navigator, Medical Officer)

Hailing from the far arctic, Rotor set out from home as a teenager with the intent of learning everything he could about the world: every discipline, every fact, every skill. His travelling studies thus enabled him to become a talented medical doctor, cartographer, and even engineer. That great collection of talents eventually brought him to the attention of Baron Robotnik, who attempted to use his mechanical agents to forcibly recruit Rotor into his service; not desiring to work under the baron, Rotor attempted to flee and was only successful because of the intervention of the Dread Pirate Shadow. Realizing he would be safest from the Baron aboard Shadow’s ship, Rotor thus offered to work for him instead, acting as the ship’s doctor and navigator. Impressed with Rotor’s show of skills, Shadow accepted, and thus did Rotor enter the position he has retained even now that Sally is Captain. Sally’s new mission, however, has meant the walrus has also begun having to make more use of his mechanical skills to not only maintain and repair the ship’s existing weapons (and Bunnie’s prosthetics for that matter), but to begin experimenting with and designing entirely new weapons to give them an edge against Robotnik’s forces.

ANTOINE D’COOLETTE (Royal Captain)

In days of old, Antoine’s father, Armand D’Coolette, served as the Fleet Commander for the Royal House of Acorn…but when the Acorn Family was deposed and Mobotropolis fell under the control of Baron Robotnik, Armand chose to save his family by offering to serve under Robotnik. The Baron accepted his terms, and the agreement held until Armand’s death several years later. Hoping to protect his mother and younger siblings, Antoine chose to continue to uphold the agreement, and became Captain of the Baron’s Flagship, the Dragoon. Eventually, the Dragoon was assigned to deal with the Freedom Stormer, which had begun to interfere with Robotnik’s activities more and more. It was during the pursuit of the Stormer and the many battles the two ships fell into that Antoine came to meet Bunnie Rabbot; impressed not only by her skill in battle but by her strong spirit. Over time she too came to respect his abilities and realized he served the Baron not out of loyalty but because he wanted to keep his loved ones safe; she thus decided to convince him to act as a kind of Inside Man for the crew of the Freedom Stormer, passing along secret information that could help them counter Robotnik’s moves and keep them safe. Antoine agreed, and has been helping the Pirates ever since, as well as gradually growing closer and closer to Bunnie via the letters they exchange as part of the agreement.

NICOLE (Ghost)

Before Bunnie and Sally met, the princess’ closest friend was a young girl named Nicole, the daughter of renowned inventor Doctor Ellidy. But alas, only a year prior to the invasion of Baron Robotnik, Nicole was struck with a deathly illness. Her father tried everything to save her, but no medicine or science on record seemed effective, and so he resorted to drastic measures, turning to the arcane and occult: through the Ritual of Ixis, he sought to transfer Nicole’s soul into an enchanted gem stone, believing it would cause her original body to fall into a kind of coma that would keep it preserved until such time as a proper cure could be found. However, the ritual seemingly failed, and Nicole’s body finally gave out. Heartbroken at his failure, Ellidy chose to leave the Kingdom of Mobotropolis, but he gave the stone he had used in the ritual to Sally in honor of her and Nicole’s friendship. Many years later, however, upon becoming Captain of the Freedom Stormer, Sally, who had taken to wearing the stone as a necklace, would learn the ritual HAD succeeded: Nicole’s spirit lived on within the stone and, through the connection she shared with Sally, she could even emerge in a ghostly form (which for reasons neither Sally nor Nicole fully understands has somehow “aged” the way Nicole would have if she were still alive)! She cannot retain this state for long as it drains both her and Sally of a great amount of energy to do so, but even so Nicole now uses her ghostly powers to aid Sally and the others in their quest, and Sally has vowed to one day find a way to create a new body for Nicole to inhabit and live anew.

#sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #thankskenpenders #Inktober #sally acorn #Bunnie Rabbot #tails #rotor Walrus #nicole #Antoine D'Coolette #fan art #ericthemason #inktober2019 #my art

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

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Drink the Wild Air (2/?)

@thisonesatellite continues to be awesome (she can’t help herself), and so here is Part Two of her birthday fic. Perfect for soothing hangovers (but maybe some paracetamol as well, just to be safe ❤️❤️)

IN WHICH pirating is done and we meet a mysterious new character.

SUMMARY: Once upon a time a princess fell in love with a pirate. This is their story.

A Captain Duckling high-seas adventure tale in which princesses are kidnapped (OR ARE THEY), sea battles are fought, SWASH is BUCKLED and CASTLES are STORMED.

(also EVIL is VANQUISHED and FAMILIES are REUNITED)

@darkcolinodonorgasm @kmomof4 @teamhook @stahlop @mariakov81 @resident-of-storybrooke @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @xarandomdreamx @winterbaby89

(please do say if you would like a tag or if you would like not a tag)

(Also on AO3) (Tumblr: Part One)

PART THE SECOND: THE TWO PIRATES

The sun rose in spectacular fashion that morning, the bending light of its rays painting the sky in a wash of delicate pink and orange streaked with gold. The light traced a shimmering path across the becalmed ocean, bathing the royal flagship in a warm glow and reflecting its image cleanly in the flat surface of the water. Every detail of the finely carved decorations that adorned the hull, the tall, square-rigged masts, even the lettering on the Queen’s standard hanging high atop the mainmast was lovingly caressed by the rosy dawn.

As the first narrow sliver of the sun itself crested the horizon the pirates attacked.

Their ship appeared as if from nowhere, moving swiftly across the water in defiance of the lack of wind, coming up alongside the flagship’s port stern with cannon at the ready. The first volley of their attack was loosed with stunning force and precision, easily piercing the flagship’s thick hull, shattering her rudder and plunging her gun decks into chaos.

“How the devil did they manage that?” cried the flagship’s first mate, leaning over the railing of the quarterdeck and gaping at the massive hole in the side of his ship. “What kind of guns could they possibly have?”

He trained his spyglass on the pirate ship—or rather, on the place where the ship had been, but the smaller vessel was nowhere to be seen. He spun about, scanning the horizon until he spotted the pirates just off his starboard bow. Through his spyglass he watched as they loaded their five guns —only five!— and loosed a second volley, one that blasted a hole in the starboard hull to match the one on the port side and took out the mainmast in a burst of jagged splinters. The fist mate watched in frozen disbelief as the huge beam bent beneath the weight of sheets and sails with an earsplitting creak then came crashing down across the quarterdeck, crushing the ship’s helm and—though he tried his best to leap clear of its path—knocking him down and trapping his leg beneath it.

He was quite a young man, this first mate, perhaps too young for the responsibility he carried on his narrow shoulders, but he had carried it for so long now that its weight was as intrinsic to him as the blue of his eyes. Those eyes glinted now with a grim determination as he shoved at the mast, feeling certain that any attempt to dislodge it could only be a vain one but unable to abide inaction as the pirate ship swung about and came up on the flagship broadsides. He pushed against the mast with all the surprising strength of his thin arms, bracing his shoulders and putting all his weight behind them, but it refused to budge.

With a growl of frustration he ceased his efforts, collapsed back against the ship’s rail and watched helplessly as the pirates began to board the Queen’s vessel and subdue her crew. The manner of their attack caught his attention and caused his frown to deepen: methodical, dispassionate, and far more terrifying in its cool efficiency than howling, frenzied bloodlust would have been. This was clearly not their first cotillion; not only had their gunner known precisely where and how to hit the naval vessel to disable her completely, but the pirates themselves carried out their onslaught on the decks with a strategy and discipline that rivalled that of the military itself. Or rather, it was precisely the sort of onslaught that standard military discipline would most struggle to repel.

Interesting.

The first mate watched the events on the lower decks unfold thorough eyes narrowed in speculation, taking in every detail. The Queen’s men fought as valiantly as could be expected, considering most were conscripts like himself and more concerned with their own survival than the glory of their monarch, but they were no match for the pirates’ skill and ruthlessness. One by one they fell, each more easily than the last, and by the time the pirate captain sauntered up to where he lay pinned to the quarterdeck the first mate had accepted that surrender was his only option

“Are you the captain of this vessel?” the pirate inquired, and the first mate took his time in answering as he assessed the man before him. Fairly standard pirate, he concluded dismissively, all black leather and dark-rimmed eyes with elaborate embroidery on his bright red waistcoat. The first mate was far more interested in the figure at his side, a slender, lithe one, dressed in tan breeches and a blue coat with a long tail of golden hair just visible beneath a sweeping feathered hat.

A woman, the first mate marvelled. There could be no question of it now that he was close enough to see the delicate lines of her profile, the curve of her waist as she rested her hand on the pommel of the sword at her hip. A woman, who had fought alongside the captain and now stood beside him as an equal. One whose skill with her sword had caught the first mate’s eye even in the midst of the battle fray— smooth and daring and masterfully controlled. One he’d seen with his own eyes vanquish at least five of the Queen’s crew. This—she—was a good deal more intriguing than the pirate captain himself, with his poncy coat and his eyeliner.

The pirate raised an eyebrow. “Well?” he prompted.

“I’m the first mate.”

“And where’s your captain?”

Probably in his cabin, polishing his sword, thought the first mate with an internal sneer. Their captain owed his position to his unfailing loyalty to their Queen, but loyalty did not equal ability and it most certainly did not denote courage.

“Well, I’d ask you to take me to him,” smirked the pirate. “But you appear somewhat incapacitated. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to direct us to his cabin.”

“And why should I do that?” snapped the first mate. He might have accepted the inevitability of his surrender, but he didn’t have to make it easy for them.

“We are prepared to offer you (we the first mate noted, glancing again at the woman) the same deal that we offered your crew. Pledge fealty to us, and we will see your wounds are treated and you are given quarter, and a place on my ship. A share in both the work and the spoils.”

(We offer you, but my ship. Fascinating.)

“Fealty,” echoed the first mate. “That’s a strong word for pirates. Who are you, exactly, to make such a demand?”

“I am Killian Jones, captain of the Jolly Roger. And this—” he indicated the woman with a soft, involuntary smile that sang of tender and abiding love (the first mate’s jaw dropped) “—is Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

“Princess Em—” scoffed the first mate, but then the woman turned her head to look straight at him. The rising sunlight hit her face and the first mate gasped. He had seen a rendering of Princess Emma —long ago, he did not care to think on it— and barring some miracle of false resemblance, this was surely she. Dressed as a pirate. Fighting in pirate battles. With a pirate captain gazing at her as though she’d hung the stars.

Well that more than adequately explained their demand for fealty, the first mate reflected, though he found it odd that they should be so free with the princess’s identity. A missing princess, specifically Emma of Misthaven, was a thing in which his Queen —among numerous others— would surely take the keenest interest. Yet here they were, announcing her openly as if the quarterdeck of a sinking ship were a bloody palace ballroom.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing as best he could whilst sprawled out at her feet with his leg crushed beneath the fallen mainmast. “Lieutenant William Jones, First Mate of Her Majesty’s Ship The Soaring Raven. At your service.”

“Jones,” said the princess, with a teasing smile at the pirate. “Relative of yours?”

“It’s a fairly common name, love,” the captain replied. “I’m sure I’d know if I had any close relations still living.” His tone was light but a small frown creased his brow as he regarded First Mate Jones more closely, taking in the shape of his cheekbones and the colour of his eyes. “So what say you, lad?” he challenged. “Will you join us, or will we leave you here to bleed out on the deck?”

Lieutenant Jones gave the pirate a hard stare. The man’s face wore a smirk that the younger Jones would love to punch off it but there was intelligence in his eyes and courage in his bearing, and a crew behind him who had captured the finest ship in the Royal Navy as easily as drawing breath. And a princess at his side who looked at him with as much love as he clearly felt for her— as though he’d hung the moon to match her stars. It seemed there was more to Killian Jones than black leather and attitude, and despite himself William Jones was intrigued.

The young man made his decision. A rash one perhaps but fully his own, and he found that the rush of choosing his fate for himself, whether wisely or not, exhilarated him. The sea was in his blood but the Queen’s navy had not been his choice, he reasoned. What did it matter what flag he sailed under so long as he sailed?

With a smirk of his own he met his new captain’s eyes. “I pledge my fealty,” he said. “I will join your crew.”

#cs ff #cs ff au #enchanted forest au #cs fic #the action begins #but there will be more of them falling in love #we'll see how they got here #in the next chapter #profdanglaisstuff #drink the wild air

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emperorsfoot · 4 years

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Finally, some much needed Entrapdak fluff. Angsty fluff. But its still fluff.

Also, the Horde garrison in Dryl misinterpreting pretty much everything about Hordak and ‘family’ in a wholesome and -hopefully- comical way.

Also, also, this:

...

Hordak was programmed to stand for a commanding officer whenever they entered a room. To be waiting for them, in formation and at the ready when they arrived on their flagship. In his current circumstances, as a refugee from the Fright Zone, deposed from command of the Horde, Entrapta held the higher rank. Princess of Dryl and sovereign of the territory he was currently residing in. In this scenario, Entrapta was his commanding officer. Dryl was her flagship. Hordak wanted to be standing at attention, waiting for her arrival home.

But he could not find the entrance.

Curse this labyrinth of corridors the locals dared to call a ‘castle’! There was no rhyme or reason to them. Hordak tried learning the layout. He tried marking the turns. He even tried making his own map. But it seemed like the layout changed semi-periodically. His marks inexplicably disappeared. And his map was useless by the next day. Hordak didn’t know how the mongrel got around without getting lost, but then, the mongrel was small and usually traveled through the air ducts and ventilation system. They probably did not have these problems.

All Hordak knew was that Entrapta was already home by the time Hordak finally found her.

Not in the entrance hall. He still wasn’t sure where that was anymore.

But he did find the kitchens.

Where Baker was just finishing up a pastry molded into the shape of a tiny creature with a pig-nose and bat ears. She looked up when he entered. It only took her half a glance to realize he was lost. She arranged the pastry creature on a tray held by one of Entrapta’s bots.

“That one’s going to the lab.” She told him.

Without saying anything, only offering a grunt as a ‘thank you’ Hordak left the kitchens and followed the bot.

The twisting and winding path the bot lead him on was not the same rout the mongrel lead him on the last time he was escorted to the lab. And they passed that damn painting of the flerken with the over-large eyes twice before they came to a familiar hallway. Then, finally, the lab.

The bot entered through a separate panel at floor level.

Hordak entered the passcode Entrapta gave him.

Thankfully, the door slid open without problem or incident.

Entrapta was already inside, reviewing the data from the exo-suit. Catching herself up on his condition and prosthetics.

“Oh. You made it.” She looked up at him with a smile. Happy to see him.

She crossed the room, propelling herself on her hair. Arms spread wide. But she stopped short of hugging him. They did not touch. She was mindful of his condition which often gave him muscular pain, and he was unused to initiating physical contact –it was not a thing clones did. So they never touched each other directly. Only through Entrapta’s hair.

Entrapta placed a lock of hair on his shoulder, giving the exo-suit an affectionate pat. “I missed you!”

Her smile was genuine, and infectious, and Hordak could not help but smile back. He missed her too.

He just lacked the words to tell her. They stuck in his throat. Admitting that he missed her when she went to Brightmoon for a couple of months also meant admitting that he would miss her indefinitely when he returned to Prime’s side and she remained in Dryl.

Instead he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your clone preformed adequately in your absence. However, it is a relief having you returned.”

He placed his hand over the hair on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers between the strands. Hordak wasn’t used to physical contact, physical contact of affection least of all. He hoped he was doing it right. Entrapta did not pull her hair away immediately, and he decided to take that as a sign that he wasn’t doing it wrong.

“Dak did great!” Entrapta beamed. Wrapping her hair around his whole body, she carried Hordak over to the main monitor. “I’ve been reviewing the data from your tune-ups and it looks like your exo-suit is performing at peak efficiency. We can now start physical training.”

To get him back to a level of warrior proficiency comparable to what he was before being stranded on Etheria. Hordak would never be able to be active without his armor again. Just performing daily tasks like basic hygiene was difficult without it as a mobility aid. His muscles would ache and he would get fatigued easily. With the armor, he could function as any normal person did, but to return to Horde Prime Hordak needed to function better than a normal person. He needed to function like a warrior-trained clone of the Emperor of the Known Universe. Bred from perfection to be a living weapon and extension of his will. For that –even with the armor- Hordak needed training.

Hordak glanced around the lab.

It was tight. An enclosed space. And full of sensitive equipment neither of them wanted to get damaged, chief among them, the First Ones medical array Entrapta took from the ship in the Crimson Waste. They could not perform any kind of physical conditioning or combat drilling in the lab. Did the Crypto Castle have a gymnasium of sorts? Some place he could train. Another place to get lost trying to find.

Already holding him with her hair, Entrapta carried Hordak to the door of her lab. “Scorpia and Dak are already waiting for us in the courtyard.”

The door slid open and Hordak struggled to disentangle himself from her hair. By the Host, he was not about to allow her to carry him out into the courtyard where the remaining Horde that occupied Dryl could see him. The soldiers deployed in Dryl at the time of the portal’s opening were the only faction of the Horde here on Etheria that remained loyal to him. He was not about to shake that loyalty by appearing weak in front of them. And being carried in this tiny Princess’ magical hair definitely made him look weak.

“I am able to walk under my own power.” He assured her.

“Oh. Okay.” Entrapta let him down, feeling oddly rejected somehow.

It wasn’t like she was trying to initiate any kind of intimacy at that moment. He was just already in her hair and they had to go to the same place. It didn’t occur to her that he might feel more comfortable moving himself rather than letter her carry him. Hordak was Entrapta’s very Special Friend, not her Best Friend, that was Scorpia. But her Special Friend. She felt as strongly for him as she did for Scorpia, but… in a different way. And she wanted to hold him.

Not just with her hair –although, that was what was usually most comfortable for her- but with her arms too. The same way Scorpia hugged her when she came to rescue her from Beast Island. Both arms wrapped around, squeezing tightly, even… even bodies pressed together if that didn’t make him too uncomfortable.

But, Entrapta was also mindful of his condition. The exo-suit she made for him allowed Hordak to function the same as any average person. But underneath that armor, he was not an average person. He was frail and delicate. His skin sensitive. Not in the same ‘tactile sensitivity and overstimulation’ sort of way she was sensitive, but in the ‘a carless tap on the shoulder could cause debilitating pain’ kind of sensitive. Not counting Hordak himself, no one was more keenly aware of that than Entrapta. She knew what it was like to be sensitive and did not want to stress his boundaries.

So, why did Hordak wanting to walk on his own make her feel like he was walking away from her?

Because he still intended to go back to Horde Prime? To leave Dryl and leave her.

But that was always Hordak’s plan. Even before he started living in her Queendom. Back when they were in the Fright Zone building the portal in the first place. Nothing had changed.

So, why did she feel like everything had changed?

“It’s this way.” Entrapta pointed with her hair when she noticed Hordak was walking the wrong way to the courtyard.

Hordak suppressed a growl, letting out a hmph instead. “Nothing makes sense in this blasted place.”

Entrapta decided to let that comment go. It was her predecessor who designed the Crypto Castle, and Ensnarea made it intentionally difficult to navigate. Entrapta grew up here, she was well into her adulthood now, almost thirty, and she still sometimes needed the tracker app on her datapad to navigate her way around.

Outside the sky was gray and overcast. Dryl was prone to poor weather. Storms and lightning. An overcast day with heavy but calm cloud cover was actually a ‘nice day’ by Dryllish standards.

It took Hordak a few moments to get used to the natural light, after being in nothing but the dimness of the Crypto Castle for months. Blinking his nictitating membranes, squinting the second set of eyelids until his eyes adjusted.

The center of the courtyard was taken up by a unit of Horde soldier, being put through their drills by the Territory Captain. It had been months since She-Ra and her rebel companion kidnapped Dak –whom for all they knew at the time was Lord Hordak’s heir- and the Captain was not going to soon forget. She was determined that her forces would never allow a repeat of the occurrence. They were soldiers of the Horde, loyal to Lord Hordak, living in the territory of Lord Hordak’s chosen consort, the Princess Entrapta. They would not allow Hordak and Entrapta’s heir to be taken a second time. The Captain was almost fanatical in her training of those that were under her command.

Seeing Lord Hordak walking with his Princess, the Captain snapped to attention and offered a respectful bow. “My Lord, my Princess.” Then, snapped at her soldiers. “Attention! Salute your Lord!”

The company she was drilling performed similar motions. Snapping to attention, backs straight, shoulders tight, tails –of they had them- peaked. Then they bowed, humbling themselves for their Lord and his consort.

Hordak gave a hmph of satisfaction.

“Wow, you guys are so in sync!” Entrapta beamed at the company.

“Thank you, Princess.” Nodded the Captain. “I have been working hard with them. Rest assured that no harm will ever come to you or your… or the younger Lord Hordak again.”

“That’s great!” Entrapta smiled at the other woman. “And I’ll be upgrading your weapons before I leave for Salineas.”

Startled, Hordak glanced at her. She would be leaving again? To build more weapons for his enemies. In Salineas this time. But he thought the deal was only for Brightmoon. She was done in Brightmoon. Why was she going to another Princess’ territory so soon after she just got back? Hordak didn’t want her to go.

But in front of one of their subordinates was not the time or place to confront her about it. As sovereign Princess of Dryl and Lord of the Horde, they had to appear unified and of one mind in front of their subordinates.

Instead of asking Entrapta about it, he chose to remind her why they came out here in the first place. “Princess, you did mention that Force Captain Scorpia was awaiting us.”

“Huh? Oh! Right!” She offered a wave to the Territory Captain. “It was good seeing you Batting. I’ll get around to your equipment once I’m done with this grumpy-gus.” She pointed to Hordak with a tendril of hair.

The Territory Captain, Batting, didn’t know what to say to that, so she only saluted again. Only Lord Hordak’s lover could get away with calling his a ‘grumpy-gus’ practically to his face. Batting tried her best not to react. She tried really, really hard.

As Entrapta said, Dak was with Scropia.

They were off to the side, in a corner of the courtyard that was shadowed by the side of the mountain.

Scorpia had a bucket of what looked like many different colored calks next to her, and was handing them to Dak, whom was using them to draw on the ground.

“That looks great, Dak!” Scorpia was saying. “But, uh, what is it?”

As they drew closer, Hordak was able to peer over the backs of the crouched pair and see that the mongrel had drawn a hexagon and a pentagon with a shared side. A single line was protruding out from the hexagon, and another line that was bent in two places extended from the pentagon. Clearly, the hybrid was drawing some kind of chemical chain.

“You said I should draw something that makes me happy.” The mongrel reminded Scorpia. They labeled the line protruding from the hexagon HO, and the bent line extending from the pentagon NH2. “So, I drew serotonin.”

Hordak could not help the snort that escaped him. A very nasal, very wet sounding snort. Prime would have been mortified. But Prime wasn’t here. Scorpia instructed the creature to draw something that made them happy and they drew the chemical that –literally- caused beings to experience happiness. Hordak still did not like the mongrel, but they did like the creature’s sense of humor when it was not at his own expense.

Scorpia sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Well… I mean… that’s not wrong…” She seemed to be having trouble finding the word to explain to this child what she had meant. “Look what I drew.” She pointed to an entirely different chalk drawing. Sloppy, and childish. But still just recognizable as two figures. One rendered in red chalk with a scorpion tail, the other outlines in purple with many pink tentacles like snakes coming out of the head. The chalk figures appeared to be holding hands, and the words ‘Super Pal Duo’ was written over them in an arch. “This is the time I rescued your mom from Beast Island and she called me her Best Friend.”

Unconsciously, Hordak reached a hand out to run his fingers through Entrapta’s hair. He should have been the one to rescue her. At least, he felt he should. But Hordak did not learn that she had been sent to Beast Island until she was already rescued.

In response to his touch, strands of hair intertwined themselves with his fingers. Gently stroking and reassuring. He might feel like he had failed her somehow, but Entrapta harbored no such feelings. She was just happy he was with her.

It gave him a pang of an entirely different, but even more uncomfortable feeling when he remembered that he would be leaving her as soon as Horde Prime arrived. Leaver her, and not coming back.

But at least Entrapta would still have Scorpia as a companion. Her ‘Super Pal’ and Best Friend. Scorpia would take care of her. Besides, the mongrel would stay here too. Hordak would not take that hybrid thing back to the Velvet Glove and present it to Prime as a brother. Dak, or Hordak Second of the Name, was not a brother. He didn’t know what the creature was, really. But it was not his brother.

“That is exactly what a chain of serotonin looks like!” Entrapta nodded at the hybrid’s drawing. Satisfied with her clone’s work.

Dak offered their mother a hesitant smile. Entrapta’s approval and validation was what they craved most in this world.

“I hope you’re not too tired for our next experiment.” Entrapta continued.

Dak practically catapulted to their feet. “No. I’m ready.”

Hordak looked between the two of them, momentarily confused. “Now that you are returned, there is no need for the clone’s continued involvement.”

Except maybe for consistency of care, so that the mongrel could remain up-to-date and aware of his condition and progression. But Hordak was not about to admit that out loud. The hybrid made him uncomfortable and he did not want to admit that there might be a practical reason for continuing to allow the hybrid to be… on his maintenance team.

“Oh, Dak’s gonna be my Control for your vitals.” Entrapta explained, bouncing excitedly on her hair. “They’re not the same physical age as you, and they’re a hybrid with my own DNA, so they’re not perfectly analogous to you, but they’re the best thing I have to compare you to in terms of physiology. Dak is the closest approximation of a ‘healthy Prime clone’. So, Dak is gonna be doing exercises along side you.”

Hordak’s lips curled in a sneer of displeasure.

But he could not argue with her logic. When Entrapta first designed the clone, and yes, ‘designed’ was accurate. She went into his DNA and took out all the corrupted segments of code, filling in the gaps with her own healthy Etherian DNA. Dak was carefully crafted to be healthy. Not a perfect clone. But a perfectly healthy organism.

From her hair, Entrapta produced sterile gel, suction cups, and sensor nodes.

Using the sterile gel and suction cups, Entrapta fitted two of the sensor nodes to the sides of Hordak’s head, lifting herself up on her hair to compensate for their dramatic difference in height. She was mindful of his scar tissue which made the skin uneven. They looked worse than they were, the synthetic skin the First Ones medical tech knitted into Hordak’s real skin to close the wounds was the wrong color and stood out, a bold violet against the white of his face and the dark blue-gray of his neck. But the scratched Catra dealt him in that fight –even miraculously healed using seemingly magically advanced tech- still left the skin uneven and Entrapta had to work around them to get the suction cups to stick.

For his neck, she plugged the sensory nodes directly into the ports there. Same with the ports on his sides, she plugged the sensors directly into those too.

Dak applied their own sensors. Sticking them to the temples of their head, their neck, and their sides. Using their hair instead of their hands –which were covered in chalk and not sterile- the cobalt blue tendrils making sure they were even and secure.

With a bit of a sigh, Scorpia began packing up the colored chalks. At least she got Dak to play a little bit.

Entrapta ushered the clones back into the center of the courtyard.

The soldiers weren’t quite finished with their drills yet, but Captain Batting quickly made them clear the field. Whatever project their Lord and his consort were working on was obviously more important than making sure the garrison kept up their discipline as a single military unit. (Besides, Batting wanted to watch whatever was about to happen. She saw so little of the sovereign family interacting together. She would be lying if she didn’t admit she was curios.)

Hordak was uneasy about preforming in front of his only remaining soldiers. He was keenly aware of his physical limitations and of the fact that he was nowhere near as capable and strong a warrior as he used to be. He did not want to appear weak in front of his subordinates. Fear of betrayal and usurption aside, they were the only followers he had left. He did not want to lose the last and only Horde garrison he commanded because he so weak, even when compared to a literal child.

“We’re just gonna start with a few warm-ups to get your bodies read and establish a baseline.” Entrapta explained. “Just some simple stretches and light activity to loosen-up your muscles and get your blood flowing.”

Standing side-by-side with the mongrel, a double arms’ length apart, Hordak allowed Entrapta to guide him and the hybrid through lunges, tow-touches, jumping-jacks, and a little light running place.

Soldiers snickers behind the face shield of their helmets, or –if their heads were uncovered- hid smiles behind their hands. None of them had ever seen Lord Hordak appear so… normal before. Warming up for a drill. Like he was one of them. A soldier just like any other. And he was training with his heir. Just like a real dad (not that any of them really knew what a ‘real dad’ was supposed to be like). But it was still so cute!

All the while, Entrapta was studying their stats on her datapad, the screen split in half, one side displaying Hordak’s vitals, the other Dak’s.

She had them break for water before diving into the combat drills.

It was not all that different from the drills the garrison had just been practicing. Beginning with basic hand-to-hand kata, first going through the motions on their own, the two clones performing identical actions side-by-side. Then, after several sets, facing off and putting the combat motions into action in a mock battle against each other.

Dak was younger than Hordak. Lighter and faster on their feet. With healthy muscle tissues giving more strength to their limbs. However, Dak had barely been in one fight before, and didn’t actually know what they were doing. Hordak was older and more experienced. He had faced quick and spry opponents before and survived to learn from the experience. He was a seasoned warrior and knew how to handle himself –limitations and all- in a fight.

For the most part they were evenly matched.

Until Hordak over-extended himself. Dak did a backflip –on their hair- to evade the attack. And Hordak fell flat on his face.

The watching soldiers could not hide their amusement this time. Nothing was funnier than watching the terrifying and imposing Lord of the Horde do a face plant while trying to train his child.

Enraged, Hordak threw all manners of a polite spar aside and snarled at the mongrel. How dare they humiliate him like that!

Dak only grinned back. Flashing those razor sharp but pearly white teeth, as if goading the older clone. “Sorry,” they said, not sounding apologetic at all, “Old Man.”

There was a chorus of ‘Oo~oh’s from the spectators.

“Brat!” He growled back. In the peak of his health, Hordak could jump from a moving drop-ship, take out a small contingent of enemies, vault off a building roof, break through windows, and maneuver is close quarters combat. He was not going to allow this composite creature that hadn’t even been alive a year yet to humiliate him in a public forum!

Recollecting himself, adjusting his stance, Hordak assumed the defensive, waiting for the younger and quicker clone to come to him. Hordak didn’t have to beat the mongrel outright. He just had to let the dumb child tire themself out in order to win.

And ‘dumb child’ was right. Dak didn’t even hesitate to take the bait. Bouncing on their prehensile hair, the hybrid leapt into the air, coming down from above Hordak, hands with talons outstretched.

Hordak casually, almost lazily side stepped the clumsy and overly-showy attack. Dak would have smashed skull-first into the hard stones of the courtyard were it not for the quick reflexes of youth. They swung their hair around in front of their face, coiling it like a living blue cushion to pad their fall. Then transitioned into a sort of summersault to land on their feet.

Lowering his defensive stance, Hordak melted into a dignified parade rest. Turing one half-quarter to the side, he smirked sideways at the mongrel. Just to make sure the creature understood how insignificant it truly was to him.

The hybrid took the action as the taunt it was meant to be. Teeth bared in a growl of frustration, hair frizzing out like Entrapta’s often did when she over-excited. They ran at Hordak, attempting to slash at the older clone with their talons.

After facing off against a skilled and season opponent like Catra, young and naïve little Dak was nothing. Hordak barely had to break his rest to dodge. Only moving his feet. Arms still folded behind his back. Expression military neutral. It only took a few passes for the mongrel’s frustration to transform into outright anger.

“This is supposed to be a fight, Old Man!” They shouted.

Hordak smirked at them. “I am waiting for you to begin.”

That was the last straw that broke the back of the mongrel’s control. They did not quite have Hordak’s temper. They were not quick to anger. They could put up with Hordak’s quiet scorn and not-so-subtle distain. When it was just the two of them it was easy to stay calm. When it was just the two of them it didn’t matter. But when Mother was home… When Mother was watching them… When Hordak was making them look back in front of Mother… That was what set Dak off. Dak wanted nothing more than for Mother to love them.

Hair still frizzy, the tendrils and strands fanned outwards, haloing the mongrel in a semi-circle of cobalt-blue tentacles. Hordak would be lying if he didn’t admit it was a little intimidating.

He didn’t let any of it show on his face, however. Hordak, Lord of the Third Division, General on Horde Prime’s ruling cabinet, did not get intimidated by mongrel children.

Dak rushed him, running forward with the same speed as before. Hordak side-stepped them easily. But then the hybrid crouched down and lashed out with their hair, coiling two tentacles around one of the older clone’s ankles. It one solid jerk of the prehensile hair, Dak pulled Hordak off his feed, dropping him flat on his backside.

There was another exclamation of ‘Oo~oh!’ from the watching soldiers.

“That’s enough.” Entrapta called.

From his position on the ground, Hordak kicked up, just barely missing the mongrel’s face. If the move had connected, the metal toe-plate of his boot would have smashed into Dak’s chin.

Jumping back, the hybrid just barely managed to dodge the blow.

Hordak too the opportunity to leap back to his feet.

Dak lashed at him with their hair again. This time going high. For the face.

Raising an armored arm to block the blow, Hordak allowed the plating of his exo-suit to absorb the force of the hit, then grabbed the tendril of hair and yanked. Hard. Pulling the hybrid off balance, causing the mongrel to stumble as they winced in pain at having their hair pulled.

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” Dak exclaimed.

“I said that’s enough.” Entrapta repeated.

“A real opponent will do much worse than this.” Hordak informed them. How could the natives of this planet honestly believe that this soft, under-developed child-creature was his ‘heir’? They were no soldier. They weren’t even the kind of sparkling and gentle looking but surprisingly formidable kind of clumsy-fighter the Princesses of the Alliance was. The mongrel was… more like a Horde cadet. A child the Etherian Horde took in and trained. Young and stupid. But full of potential.

The mongrel only growled at him. They pulled the strand of hair, but Hordak did not let go of his hold.

“He’s right, ya know!” Someone called from the soldiers that gathered as spectators.

“Listen to your father.” Shouted another. “He knows what he’s talking about!”

Hordak bristled, uncomfortable at being called the mongrel’s ‘father’. The clones of Horde Prime had no fathers. The clones of Horde Prime had no children. The clones of Horde Prime were all brothers.

“Hey, if your hair is cut, it is like losing an arm?” Asked another. This question went unanswered.

Dak yanked their hair again, pulling harder this time. Pulling hard enough to make the taller and top heavier clone to stumble off balance. Mid-trip, another tentacle of hair lunged out. This this time. With more force. It struck Hordak in the stomach.

Hordak let go of the hair he was holding. Spitting and gasping.

“Stop!” Entrapta appeared between them. Wrapping both in her own hair, she forced the two clones apart. “As big as your ears are, you should be better at listening. Both of you.”

The watching soldiers heaved identical groans of disappointment. They were enjoying the show.

Placing herself between Dak and Hordak, she turned to the latter and held up her datapad. “Look at your blood pressure! The suit is not regulating it the way it should. And that gut-punch just now didn’t do you any favors either.” She turned the datapad back to herself and began scrolling through all the information the device was telling her. Muttering about adjustments and upgrades. About extending the exoskeleton to cover his chest and middle-mass.

As she spoke, Hordak took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had not risen to the killing edge. The mongrel was not a big enough threat for that. Not had they made him mad enough to push him to that edge. But Hordak was not as young as he used to be and active combat was not as easy as it once was. Now that he was no longer moving and adrenaline was no longer pumping through his veins, Hordak realized that he was… tired. His muscles under his exo-suit were already sore. His middle-mass most of all. The mongrel’s hair was very strong.

But he could not afford to appear weak in front of his soldiers.

Hordak melted his stance back into a rest. “I shall respect your concerns and end combat training for the day, Princess.”

There was a soft chorus of ‘Aww’ from the soldiers around them. One soldier wrapped her arm around another, the two women cuddling closer. Hordak might be a looming, formidable, terrifying military Lord, but he loved his consort. It was so sweet!

Their doe-eyed, adoring faces, and soft smiles made him uncomfortable. Hordak turned and walked back to the double doors of the main entrance into the Crypto Castle. Quickly realized that he would be lost the moment he got inside, and paused. Turning to look back at where Entrapta was still standing with the mongrel, he held out his arm. A gesture he understood meant he was offering to escort her inside. He hoped it did not make him seem vulnerable and afraid of going back into the castle alone –which he was.

“You can play outside some more if you want.” Entrapta informed the hybrid. “Scorpia tells me children should play. Come back to the Lab when you’re ready and we can go over your data together.”

“Yes, Mother.” Dak demurred.

She crossed the courtyard, moving on her hair, and took Hordak’s offered arm.

The crowd gave a second ‘Aww’ as the couple went inside together.

Entrapta waited until the double doors were shut behind them before remarking, “I think I’ll also add a navigation feature to the exo-suit. So you won’t get lost inside the castle. Not that I mind escorting your around. But I know you like… to go your own way...”

Hordak’s lip curled, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable. It felt almost like she wasn’t talking about his wanting independence while living in the nightmare labyrinth she called a ‘castle’ and more about… his impending departure when Prime finally came to collect him.

“I will always appreciate the things you do for me.” He informed her. Not knowing what he needed to say.

“Thanks.” Entrapta replied. “I will always appreciate you- -your friendship.” She twiddled her hair, looking off to the side to avoid eye-contact, cheeks a slightly pinker shade than was normal. “Out of everyone I’ve met on Etheria –Scorpia included- you are the one I- …work best with.”

A lump formed in Hordak’s throat and he found himself having to swallow a feeling he was unfamiliar with. “Your work is without equal.”

If he thought –even for just a moment- that Horde Prime would welcome Entrapta, Hordak would take her with him. In a heartbeat.

“Thanks.”

Entrapta looked uneasy for a moment, as if question a decision she was about to make. She raised herself up on her hair, so that their faces were on an equal level. Leaning forward slightly to close the distance between them. Her mouth parted slightly.

Hordak had no idea what her intensions were. He had never seen Entrapta behave this way before.

But whatever she was about to do, they were both distracted by shouting outside.

They both turned.

Hordak pushed the double doors open.

At first, they were both confused. Nothing seemed out of place in the courtyard. Everyone was still standing exactly where they were a minute ago when they left. Except now everyone was all tuned, staring in the same direction. Faces tilting up. Staring gape-mouthed, horror struck, and confused at the sky.

Following their gaze, Entrapta and Hordak looked up.

A strange light cut across the sky, shining brighter than the moons. A diagonal slash. The edges of which seemed to fray and peel back, like fabric torn and tattered. As if the very air itself was physically cut with a blade. A blade of light rather than steel. A rift opening.

The gaping Etherians were right to be afraid. They didn’t know what this was. They had never seen anything like it before.

Admittedly, Hordak had never seen it before either. But he knew what it was. He was expecting this.

Horde Prime got his message.

Horde Prime was coming.

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #entrapta #hordak #entrapdak kid #clone baby au #dryl #crypto castle #spop #fan fiction #ao3 #RenkonNairu #scorpia #dak #a song of steel and light #prodigal brother

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greenteafiend · 6 years

Note

With the bingo thing...how about "I have your loved one" someone's taken Pidge and is taunting matt? Idk if that makes sense but I love your writing!!!!

Crosses are done, and I think just about everything has been requested now, thanks!! I’ve also started posting all these snippets on Ao3 which you can find here.

@badthingshappenbingo

Thanks for the request anon :)

When Lotor and the Paladins of Voltron were not seen for weeks, rumors flew that they had destroyed each other.

Matt never accepted it for one second. He knew his brilliant, brave, intelligent little sister was still out there, and he had complete confidence in her ability to return to him. The women in his family were notoriously stubborn. Matt’s mother was the strongest, most formidable person he knew, and Pidge was nothing if not their mother’s daughter. In contrast, Matt had definitely taken after their father in the temperament department. Where Pidge had inherited their mother’s fierceness, Matt had inherited their father’s mellow, easy-going, demeanor.

So it didn’t take him by surprise at all to see Pidge alive. What took him him completely off guard, like a sucker punch to the gut, was where he saw her.

Matt himself was in the high command center of the rebel forces, standing on Olia’s right side, staring at the open communication screen connected to Sendak’s flagship.

Sendak himself had hailed them, and demanded that they surrender their base on Olkari. Naturally, Olia had laughed in his face. Olkari was a good defensive position, there was no way Sendak’s forces could take it from them.

“Bring out our little Paladin,” said Sendak, a cruel smile twisting his harsh features into something grotesque.

Two Galra dragged out a tiny figure with a familiar mop of light brown hair. Matt’s breath caught in his chest as everything inside him screeched to a halt. His blood roared in his ears as every fiber of his being rejected what he was seeing. That couldn’t be his little sister, so far beyond his reach and in so much danger.

And then the figure looked up.

“M-Matt?” Unmistakably, heartbreakingly, Pidge, saying his name. She sounded young and scared, and there was blood on her face, trickling down one side of her face.

She stared at him with a slightly dazed look on her face, looking for all the world like the only thing keeping her from floating away, and off into space, was the bruising grip of the Galra by her sides.

It forcibly reminded Matt of a time when they were small children and she’d fallen out of their treehouse, hitting her head hard enough for a nasty concussion. Her eyes had been unfocused, her expression slightly confused, brow furrowed like understanding what was going on was hard, just like she was now. Matt had cried like a baby even though he was older, and not the one who got hurt.

The pain of watching her be hurt was worse than anything he could experience for himself, and in that moment, he felt equally as distraught and powerless as he had at eleven.

“Look after your sister for me, okay Matt?” those were his father’s parting words to him before he left. How would Matt ever be able to face either of his parents again if something happened to her?

Matt didn’t realize that he’d broken formation, that he’d started to march forward like he could leap right through the holoscreen and snatch Pidge, haul her back to safety and crush her to his chest where he could keep her safe, until Ryner and Nyma grabbed him, holding him back.

Sendak’s gaze alighted on him with interest, and Matt’s hands clenched into fists so tightly that his short blunt nails were in danger of making his palms bleed.

“Let her go,” he snarled, sounding nothing at all like himself.

Sendak laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, it set Matt’s nerves on edge.

“Who is that boy to you, little paladin?”

There was still some defiance left in her because Pidge didn’t reply, she just glared at Sendak hatefully.

Sendak nodded at the guards, and one of them backhanded her hard enough that the only thing that stopped her from being thrown across the room was the grip of the other.

“He asked you a question,” snapped the guard.

“M-my sister! I’m her brother, she’s my sist–” blurted Matt, desperate to stop them hurting her, before getting cut off by someone clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Interesting…” remarked Sendak.

“I’m willing to spare her life in exchange for your surrender,” he continued.

Matt looked to Olia, who stared back at him sorrowfully.

No!

He tried to yell, but he could only make muffled sounds of protest against the hand covering his mouth, struggling in vain against all the arms holding him back.

“We will not surrender the base,” said Olia firmly, turning away from Matt to face Sendak once more.

“That is a shame,” said Sendak, motioning to his guards once more. This time they hit Pidge in the gut, hard enough that she doubled over and fell to her knees.

Tears gathered in Matt’s eyes, and he struggled even harder.

Sendak walked over and fisted a hand in the back of Pidge’s head, forcing her to look up at them.

“Look at him, little Paladin,” he said. Pidge’s eyes found Matt’s. There was a clam acceptance in her gaze that turned Matt’s blood into ice.

“Say his name for me,” Sendak ordered.

She pressed her lips together, remaining stubbornly silent.

Sendak yanked her head back even harder, making tears squeeze out at the corners of her eyes with how hard he was pulled her hair.

“Say. His. Name.”

Suddenly, one of the guards holding Pidge crumpled to the ground.

Sendak abruptly let go of Pidge in order to bring up his hulking fake arm in time to avoid having his face split open by a sword, shifting backwards out of their plane of view.

Lance. Matt recognized him. He didn’t recognize the gleaming broadsword he was wielding, however.

Keith came into view next, dispatching the other guard with ease. Before their eyes, Lance’s sword transformed into the gun Matt was familiar with, and he shot at something out of their view.

Then Hunk bound into view, dematerializing his bayard so he could scoop Pidge into his arms.

“I got her, c’mon, let’s go!” he yelled, and as quickly as they had appeared, Keith, Lance, and Hunk disappeared with Pidge. A split second later the connection between them was cut and the holoscreen went blank.

“Matt?” said Olia quietly, breaking the stunned silence that had descended over the room.

Matt shook off the arms of the people holding onto him, and this time they let him go.

“Excuse me,” he muttered roughly, striding from the room.

No one tried to stop him, wisely giving him space.

When the Lions of Voltron showed up a few days later on Olkari, Matt hugged Pidge so hard and for so long that she laughed at him and wriggled out of his grasp when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let go until she pulled away.

He hugged Lance, Hunk, and Keith too for good measure. Lance accepted his hug with good humor, Hunk accepted his with warmth and enthusiasm, while poor Keith froze, as stiff as a statue at the attention, awkwardly patting Matt on the back like he wasn’t sure what to do with his arms.

“Thank you so much,” he told them, quiet and sincere while Pidge was distracted greeting beezer.

“She’s like a sister to us too, man,” said Hunk simply.

Not for the first time, Matt was glad at the company Pidge had found herself up here with. They were lucky to have her, she was lucky to have them, and Matt was lucky they had each other.

#bag things happen bingo #vld #voltron #I have your loved one #answered ask #my writing #vldgen #matt holt #pidge #whump

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chudovyygirl · 6 years

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THE WWE'S GLASS CEILING IS JUST A FOOTNOTE FOR RENEE YOUNG She's the first female color commentator in the history of the company. But don't expect Young to list "trailblazer" on her IG anytime soon. She has a bigger mission—to become the greatest to ever put on a headset.

After three grueling hours of fulfilling her role as WWE’s first ever female color commentator on Monday Night Raw’s live broadcast each week, there’s a good chance Renee Youngis going to have to sneak away to the restroom when it’s all over. The enormity of breaking one of professional wrestling’s thickest glass ceilings doesn’t faze her. It’s the smaller things, like not getting a chance to discreetly escape to the lavatory from the announce team’s perch adjacent to WWE’s massive LED stage that, she says, will take some getting used to.“It was one of the things I was legit the most stressed out about doing commentary,” she reveals. “‘But when do I pee?!’ But I feel like I’ve overcome it.”

Young says that since taking over the third chair on Monday Night Raw from Jonathan Coachman, she’s begun to limit her liquid intake throughout the day. She doesn’t really have all that much time to sip coffee anyway, as her new role requires hours of pre-show preparation and research. In addition to a mandatory production meeting where on-screen talent is briefed on storylines, scripts and talking points, Young takes the initiative to chat with the wrestlers one-on-one, getting a sense of who they are, what’s going on in their real lives and where they see their characters going that week. She also scours social media for any interactions between wrestlers or any trending pop culture stories she can reference.

It’s this kind of work ethic, and an ability to make adjustments on the fly, that has helped Young do something no other female broadcaster has ever accomplished in the 66-year history of WWE: co-piloting the company’s flagship broadcast. To some, that makes Young a trailblazer, but she downplays that label with her trademark self-deprecating, cheery sense of humor. “I’m not going to put it in my Instagram headline: ‘Renee Young, trailblazer.’ I do feel the responsibility of it, but it’s also a responsibility I asked for.”

Renee Young, born Renee Jane Paquette in Toronto, Canada, took one of the more circuitous routes imaginable to get to WWE. She grew up in a show business household; her father was a concert promoter and her mother a bookkeeper. When she was 10, Young was encouraged by a client of her mother’s to try her hand at modeling. “I didn’t even know what that meant,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘Sure, it sounds great.’ I would go meet with different talent agencies and different modeling agencies.”

In addition to modeling, however, Young had a penchant for making people laugh. When her parents divorced, Young found that a well-placed joke could defuse the roiling tension of a divided home. “Kind of taking away that spotlight and the awkwardness of the things that were happening,” she says. “Once I realized that’s something that worked for me, I loved nothing more.” That need to be irreverent would manifest itself at school, too. “I was getting kicked out of class regularly,” she says. “I wasn’t a bad kid. I was just loud. Getting kicked out and still trying to make people laugh in the hallway. I was always in kind of a little bit of a situation. I didn’t know when to shut up. Shocker.”

When she was 16, while bouncing around the modeling world, Young was handed a small pamphlet for the Second City improv training center. She would keep it in her bedroom drawer for years as a reminder of who she truly wanted to be. Finally, when she graduated high school in 2003, she asked her father for the $250 necessary to register for her first improv class.

Improv was her passion, and she fully embraced her time at Second City, hoping to transition to a career as a comedic actress. After a brief spell in Los Angeles when she was 19, she came back to Toronto to work in music videos and commercials before settling on a career hosting on Canada’s The Score sports network in 2009. There, she began fronting a wrestling talk show called Right After Wrestling. (The show aired directly after Monday Night Raw in Canada.) That got the attention of WWE, who brought her in for an audition and eventually hired her to conduct backstage interviews with the wrestlers.

WWE offered Young her biggest platform ever, as well as a very strict set of guidelines about what to say and how to say it. Many of the interactions audiences see on Monday Night Raw and SmackDown Live are heavily scripted by a team of writers. The performers are asked to get as close to reciting the lines verbatim as they can for their backstage interviews, in-ring promo segments and pre-taped vignettes. Before most interviews, Young would have to preface the exchange with, “Please welcome my guest at this time”—a catchphrase that’s become fodder for jokes within online wrestling fandom.

Despite her early struggles with the tried-and-true WWE formula, Young quickly found allies to help her push forward. Former announcer, and current mouthpiece for Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman was an early supporter of Young. He helped her ease into what can be an overwhelming, esoteric world of wrestling jargon, high pressure and unceasing travel. “He’s had my back from the get-go,” Young says. “He did not need to do that. For whatever reason, he and I have always been close when it comes to talking about being better and wanting to be the best.”

Before her debut as an analyst on Monday Night Raw, Young hunkered down in the stands of the empty arena, where Heyman found her to give his sage counsel. “He just kind of gave me advice on how to be a little more succinct, how to create those little punchlines,” she remembers. “You’ve gotta think about what this is going to sound like in a video package. Make sure you’re saying their name instead of he or she. Just little nuggets like that that you might forget. And I do forget. Sometimes, I might be out there and catch myself saying, ‘Oh, he just speared him’ instead of ‘Roman Reigns just speared Braun Strowman.’”

For the former class clown, it’s not always easy to color inside the rigid lines of WWE’s corporate universe. “Prior to working for WWE, I was always in control of my own material [at The Score].” The commentary role on Raw allows for more off-the-cuff banter for Young, play-by-play announcer Michael Cole and color commentator Corey Graves. “I’ve been here for six years, but until now, I haven’t had many opportunities to flex that [improv] muscle. I’m trying to get back into that mode.”

In her six years with WWE, Young has done pretty much all there is to do besides actually work a wrestling match. She’s worked segments on Raw and SmackDown. She’s hosted an intimate, almost Oprah-style interview show on the WWE Network streaming service called Unfiltered. She’s co-hosted the SmackDown aftershow Talking Smack with former WWE champion Daniel Bryan, and she’s helmed the pre-shows leading up to WWE pay-per-view events.

Perhaps the strangest detour in Young’s career was a brief, season-long stint on the E! network reality series Total Divas, a series that follows WWE female talent like Nikki and Brie Bella, Natalya, Naomi Paige, and Lana through their day-to-day lives. Total Divas is not all that different from other E! reality franchises like Keeping Up with the Kardashians, with its various mundane real-life dramas set against the backdrop of the glamour of the entertainment industry. One of the main storylines of the show was the question of whether or not John Cena would marry Nikki Bella. The particulars of their coupling and the eventual dissolution of that couple was all fodder for the cameras.

As helpful as the show was for her personal profile, Young departed Total Divas after completing work on Season 7. “I think the hardest part for me, for doing Total Divas, was having my relationship be on display,” she says with a sigh.

Her husband, Jonathan Good, also known as Dean Ambrose, is intensely private, according to those who know him—a shy, reserved, sensitive man who only opens up once you’ve made yourself worthy of his trust. “It’s always a compliment when John has a conversation with me,” says Natalya Neidhart, Total Divas cast member and one of Young’s closest friends on the WWE roster. “He doesn’t talk to that many people, so when he talks to me, I’m so flattered.” Young is the opposite that attracted, still that same young person always trying to make others laugh with a one-liner. “[Renee] didn’t need someone who was going to compete with her, in the sense of being bubbly and charismatic. She needed someone who complemented her, and John is just so quiet. He very rarely lets people in.” That dynamic might not have been ideal for reality TV.

“I think [our relationship] was not something we wanted to pull the curtain back on,” Young says. “That made me uncomfortable as well, because the whole time I’m just saying he’s crazy and how do I deal with this crazy person [for story purposes], which is really not our dynamic. That was really odd to navigate as we were doing it.”

Until 2015, the heightened reality of Total Divas was one, if not the only, path to success for WWE’s women. Women’s wrestling simply wasn’t a major attraction on WWE TV until Stephanie McMahon debuted highly touted prospects Sasha Banks, Charlotte Flair and Becky Lynch to usher in the “Women's Revolution” campaign that gave female performers more to do than just pose for the camera and smile. But Young is a part of a class of performers who have become bona fide stars without that platform. Though she’s never competed in a wrestling match (the closest she’s gotten is a brief feud where she and Ambrose traded insults with The Miz and his wife, Maryse), Young has amassed a social media following on par with former world champions like Bayley and Alexa Bliss. “Renee is going to be a superstar at this,” says Michael Cole, who, in addition to being her cohort on Raw’s announce team, is also the person who oversees every announcer in WWE.

“When all is said and done, Renee is going to go down as one of the great analysts that we’ve ever had, because you have to stand out in this business,” Cole says. “Renee will stand out because she’s offering something that’s never been done before. Forget the fact that she’s a woman. Put that aside. That’s become a footnote now. She’s different because never before have we had in the wrestling business what Renee offers to the announce booth. It’s that innate ability to talk to people, to be able to dig underneath the surface and find out what makes these superstars tick.”

Her personality and charisma shined even if her on-screen character is mostly just a slightly toned-down version of the real Renee. “I just have to be a little bit more PG when I’m on a live microphone,” she says. The Evolution pay-per-view is something of a culmination of everything Young has been striving for since she joined the wrestling world. “When I was told I was going to be doing it, I was floored,” she says. “I feel like I can open up a door for other women, show other women and girls different paths to go down.”

Young has done her research into other women who’ve made it into the sports commentary world. She’s especially a fan of ESPN NBA analyst Doris Burke, another supreme talent who has a similarly rabid online following. “One of the things I took away [from my research] is that everyone is used to older white men doing commentary and anything that’s not has been deemed wrong. It’s not [wrong]. It’s just trying to change what people are used to hearing.”

Eventually, audiences will get used to Renee Young’s voice on commentary, if they haven’t already. In addition to her weekly job on Raw and the spot on Evolution, she’ll be calling WrestleMania in April. While Raw is three hours and the average pay-per-view is around four, WrestleMania tops out at a whopping seven hours from start to finish. When will Renee get to go to the bathroom then? “If that’s the biggest of Renee’s worries, she has nothing to be concerned about,” Cole says.

“I am not ready for that yet. I don’t think my bladder is quite prepared,” Young says with a chuckle. “We don’t travel with port-a-potties up there.” For every arena, Young has devised a route to the restroom, just in case. It’s absurd that we keep coming back to the issue, but as Young puts it, “This is real life” and she’s not one to hold back on what’s going on in her own head. “She’s relatable because she’s not perfect,” Neidhart says. In that life, as it is in her journey to relieve herself, Young’s mantra is simple: “You gotta navigate your path.”

#renee young #wwe #mentions of:#deanee

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