Story progression decided to give Garrison a ghost baby.

ok can i request a din djarin x reader where the reader is a badass but usually seduces her bounties to capture them, and din is both jealous and confused (bc she could kick anyone’s ass) and she whips out the line “don’t work for misogyny, make misogyny work for you” thank you so so much

Atin’la (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being a female bounty hunter is a pain in the ass. When you meet a Mandalorian man and begin traveling with him, you meet seemingly the only man in the bounty hunting trade that respects women. Too bad he’s a hopeless romantic too.

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, alcohol, misogyny, threats of violence, mentions of weapons, Din doesn’t know how to emotion. rude terms to address a female (whore, bitch, etc.)

A/N: I had so much fun working on this request you guys! Fic requests are definitely open if inspiration strikes any of y’all. The bounty they capture in the later part is a Zabrak! I did some research into different humanoid species, and for reference, Zabraks are the species with a ring of horns on their head; the most notable one is Darth Maul. I linked the wookiepedia page here so you can get a feel for what they look like if you aren’t familiar with the species. 

atin’la- tough

Being a bounty hunter and a woman is much harder than being one or the other.

Sexism runs rampant in circles dominated by men, and bounty hunting was certainly one of those circles. Finding a man impartial to women was the best you could get in hopes of employment, a man who actually gave a shit about the women was a dream. 

Luckily, you’d happened across a man who seemed to see directly past gender. A man who you weren’t even sure was a human, covered in beskar and refusing to even tell you his name. He asked you to call him Mando, and that was that.

You’d happened upon the man during a bounty hunt. You were an independent contractor, working for yourself. You’d pick up pucks from slain hunters, more often than not, or you’d run a spare job for Karga or his rivals. Money was the number one concern for you, over loyalty to a certain guild or a certain code.

The hunt was going somewhat easily. It all changed when you looked down and found a tiny green being sipping soup. It smiled cutely at you with tiny white teeth and you abandoned your mission for a moment to give the little thing a scratch on its head. He seemed to appreciate that, leaning into your touch and slipping his wide brown eyes closed.

The being’s father didn’t like that. You looked up to find a beskar-clad, broad-shouldered man pointing a pulse rifle at you. “Step away from the child.”

“Relax,” you said quickly, putting your hands in the air. “I’m not here for him.”

“How do I know that?” The modulated voice growled at you. 

“I’m an independent bounty hunter. Let me show you.” You grabbed a puck and tossed it to the man, who skillfully caught it while balancing his pulse rifle, aiming it directly at your heart. The man- well, you assumed it was a man- pressed the button, illuminating the dark alley with a holographic image of a mythrol. “See? It was registered to Jido Korden. He’s dead now. I stole the puck from his body.”

The black slit in the helmet looked from the puck back up at you. “You’re not Guild?”

“No,” you laughed. “Why bother working for one side when you can keep your opportunities open?” You asked, a smirk on your face. 

He shook his head. “I was assigned to this mythrol too.”

“That’s too damn bad, Mandalorian,” you shrugged and walked closer, snatching the puck back from his palm. “Unless you want to work together,” you snorted as you pocketed the little round piece, turning off the hologram. You looked down at the kid again. “Nice meeting you, squirt,” you hummed to the kid and scratched its head before turning to walk away. 

“Independent, huh?” The Mandalorian asked, lowering his pulse rifle.

You stopped in your tracks. “Yeah. What about it?”

“You have skills. I’ve seen your image before.”

“Better not have been on a bounty puck.” You crossed your arms and turned around. “Where is this going?”

“I… am in need of crewmates. This kid is a kriffing handful, and I can’t keep watching him and running bounties. It’s just not working out.”

“That sucks,” you shrugged. “Is this an offer?” He stared at you for a second, unreadable. His visor stared directly into your face. “Yes. Come work with me. We’ll take turns running bounties and staying on my ship with the kid.”

“Oh, you have a ship,” you raised an eyebrow as you looked up and down his body. “I’m not a working girl, you do know that?”

“Of course I know that,” the man said, annoyance evident in his modulated tone. “This is not a… partnership of that kind.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head as you looked at the man, the child, and back to the man. “50/50 split of payment.”

“60/40.”

“Don’t make me negotiate a higher rate,” you chuckled. “50/50.”

“Fine.”

You smiled. “Looks like you’ve got a partner, Mandalorian,” you said, hands on your waist. You walked closer and offered him a hand. He took it and you shook on the deal. You introduced yourself and he nodded. “What’s your name?” You asked.

“You can call me Mando.”

-

That was how your partnership with Mando began. Now, you’ve worked together for a few weeks. His missions tend to run longer than yours, taking upwards of a week. That leaves you on the ship with the child more, but it’s nice. It’s almost fun to pretend domesticity when the Mandalorian man is gone, playing with the child.

Green bean, baby boy, cutie, kiddo, nugget. The kid had many names under your care. You wonder if Mando ever calls him sweet names when you’re the one gone. You hum to the child and put him in his little knit hammock, hanging above the technically-shared bunk. It’s not really yours or Mando’s. One of you sleeps in it when the other is on the mission. One side has a small shelf with some of your belongings- your glasses, wax for chapped lips, a durasteel flask for water. The other is bare. That’s Mando’s side. 

The child is asleep, and you’re curled up against the back wall of the bunk, reading something on a holopad. Your home planet has a newsfeed you can stream, and you smile softly as you scroll through it. You take a sip of water from the metal flask and hear the child stirring. He wants to be near you, you can tell, as he reaches out a tiny three-fingered hand toward you. 

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “Alright, bud. Come here,” you allow, and the child jumps from his hammock onto your stomach, causing you to make a soft oof as he lands on you. The child giggles and crawls up your body, cuddling in against your chest. You set down the holopad and stroke the child’s big ears. He makes a little coo of happiness, snuggling in and closing his eyes. As much as you’d tried to get the child to sleep in his hammock, every night was like this. He wanted to be held and sung to and kissed between his big eyes. He was a baby, you suppose. You wonder if Mando indulges the child by doing this when it’s just him and the child.

As you close your eyes, you find yourself thinking about the Mandalorian. You liked him, you had to admit, making you smile placidly at the backs of your eyelids. He had a dry sense of humor. He was good to you. He’d indulge in conversation with you between the times one of you would go out on a hunt. He’d listen to you talk and comment along on your stories. He was good at domestics, you’d notice when you came back from your turn hunting. He’d wash and fold the child’s brown robes and his own capes, would polish his weapons and sometimes you could even smell remnants of cooking in the hull of the ship. 

Yes, you have to admit, you like Mando. He’s a good man. He treats you and his little green son well. In response to his kindness, you do what you can for him. You get treats at the marketplace with the child and leave them on his pilot’s seat for him to find. You polish his beskar for him at night when he sleeps, in just a helmet and his flight suit, up in the cockpit whenever the two of you are both aboard the ship. You write him notes of thanks and tuck them around the ship for him to find.

You fall asleep thinking about the man, the enigma shrouded in beskar and dark clothing, while you held the child close to your chest.

-

Mando likes you too. He smiles when he finds a note from you tucked in his pack he carries on missions. He snacks on the candies that you get for him, and even shares them with the child. He falls asleep in the same bunk, thinking about you, the child nestled alongside him. 

When he’s on a hunt, he thinks about you and the child constantly. He wonders if you ever think about him the way he thinks about you. He wonders if you consider him a friend. He views you as one. He pictures the way your eyes twinkle when you and the child get into mischief. He thinks about the way you laugh at his dry humor, the way you send a snarky comment right back at him. The way you’re good to him. The way he secretly yearns for you, for your touch, for your lips and your arms around him. 

Now, as he’s dragging a knocked-out twi’lek back to the ship, he hopes you’re asleep. He hopes he can catch a glimpse of how relaxed you look when you sleep, the way your nose twitches when you’re dreaming and you press kisses to the child’s head in moments of half-consciousness. He hopes he doesn’t wake you as he lowers the Crest’s ramp and walks up, quietly as he possibly can. The carbonite freezer is loud, and it wakes you. “Mando?” You call as you hear it, sitting up.

“Just me, cyar’ika.” 

You don’t know what the word means, but Mando loves to address you by the title. It probably means bitch or snarky one or sassy, you sometimes think. “How did it go?” You ask as you hear the heavy footsteps of the man come to the end of bunk. 

“Easily. He was hard to find but easy to take down.”

“The best kind. More time away from me,” you tease, rubbing your eyes and looking at the hulking man, the red and blue lights from various appliances just barely illuminating his shape. 

“You like it that way, I’m sure,” he teases back, sitting on the end of the bed and stripping off the beskar, setting it on the floor with a clunk. 

“Actually…” you trail off, smiling a little. “I was thinking we could do the next hunt together. I’d like to see your style. My next one is on Tatooine, we could leave the child with Peli. She adores him.”

He turns to look at you. It’s unbearably domestic, your hair messy and your shoulders bare in your sleeping camisole and soft legs visible with the shorts you wear, your glasses slipping down your nose. It’s hard to believe you’re a bounty hunter in this moment, he thinks to himself. You look so delicate and warm and soft. The opposite of him, rough and rude and harsh. “Who’s Peli?” he asks after a moment.

“Mando!” You laugh and smack his bare arm. “The lady with the wild hair. She runs the hangar?”

“That’s her name?”

“Yes, you bantha,” you grin and shake your head. “Her name is Peli. I cannot believe you.”

The child awakens at the noise and makes a noise of excitement as he sees Mando. “Hey, kid,” the Mandalorian chuckles and picks up the child, setting him on his lap. The child hugs him and Mando gives a soft laugh as he hugs him back, lightly. 

“Go back to sleep, cyare. I’ll pilot us to Tatooine and you can finally show me how terrible you are at bounty hunting.” He pats your calf softly, with an ungloved hand, and you do your best not to shiver at the touch of his strong hands on your bare skin. 

“You get some rest too,” you tell him with a soft smile, placing your hand on top of his. Your fingers are so much smaller than his, so much more delicate, and you trace the tips along the back of his hand. He nods and stands, setting the child back down next to your side. You lie back down and cuddle the child into your chest, trying not to think about how strong and warm his hand felt on your skin.

-

Once you arrive on Tatooine, you suit up. Your hair is slicked back to the best of your abilities, and your glasses are replaced with contacts. You pull on your skin-tight black tank top and black cargo pants, strapping your holster belt around your waist, slinging your ammunition belt over your shoulder, where it rests between your breasts. You strap one blade to your thigh and another to your upper arm, and pull on your trusted combat boots. You’re ready. “You can come down,” you shout up to Mando, who’s been patiently waiting in the cockpit for you to get changed. 

The man climbs down the ladder in his full beskar. Tatooine is a hot planet, so he’s omitted the cape for this mission. You can see a peek of skin when he moves his head, showing a little bit of tanned skin, and it makes you bite your lip and turn away. “You ready?” You ask him as you sling his backup pulse rifle- which you’ve claimed as yours now- over your shoulder.

He nods. “Looks like you are too.” The child has already been left with Peli, so everything is set. He walks closer to you and removes one of his metal vambraces, strapping it to your arm. It looks odd against your bare skin, only ever having seen it against the dark material of Mando’s flight suits or duraweave shirts. “This button,” he says and points to a triangular button, “is the comm in case we get separated.”

“You’re gonna be the one needing it,” you tease, pressing the button on his other vambrace. It makes a screeching feedback sound from being so close to the other receiver and you wince before pressing it again to turn it off.

“Sure I will,” he chuckles. 

“Show me the puck one more time?” You ask, looking up into the black T of his helmet. He nods and pulls it out, pressing the hologram. It’s a male Zabrak with a name listed beneath: Gar Thalcyon. Crimes: Bail Jumping, Resisting Arrest, Grand Theft X-Wing. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Men are easy,” you chuckle and take the puck, putting it in a pocket of your cargo pants. “Let’s go.” You walk out of the ship, leading Mando along.

You walk through the crowded marketplace of Tatooine, the Mandalorian man trailing behind you. Your head is held high. You don’t necessarily fit in; many Tatooinians wear robes and hoods to hide from the sun, but you obviously didn’t bother. The Mandalorian behind you most definitely doesn’t belong, attracting stares, but he doesn’t mind either. He’s used to it. 

Mos Eisley is, unfortunately, a dead end, you two discover after a day of searching. The bounty puck never indicates that you’re in the right location. Both you and Mando decide to get dinner at a cantina in town before you move on tomorrow. That’s what led the two of you to where you are: sitting in a more secluded booth, watching the cantina’s patrons get drunker by the minute. 

You’re sipping a bright pink cocktail, and Mando watches the world around the two of you, sneaking glances through his visor at you. “Isn’t this a little irresponsible for a mission?” You chuckle, swirling the skewer of fresh berries sitting in the glass in front of you. 

“He’s not around here. We’re not on mission time now,” he shrugs. 

“Oh, so is this like a date?” You tease with a smile. 

Mando freezes for a second. You hope you haven’t offended him somehow, but he tilts his head as he watches you. “Do you want it to be one?”

You bite your lip and swirl your drink faster. “I don’t know. It’s a little impractical for coworkers, for co-bounty hunters, is it not?” You chuckle, but there’s no humor in your voice as your throat goes dry. 

“It would be,” he nods in agreement. “But our job is only a contract between us. One that can be amended.”

You have a shy smile as you look up at him. “Do you want it to be one, Mando?” You ask. 

He’s silent for a moment. You mentally curse the beskar for hiding his expressions from you. 

“I do,” he finally acknowledges. 

The smile on your face breaks into a grin. “Then I guess we’re on our first date,” you laugh, sipping your neon-colored drink with a smile you can’t get off your face. “I suppose if we’re dating, I should know your name,” you ask him. 

It’s the first time you’ve pushed. You’ve never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked why he didn’t. You’ve been kind and caring and patient and damn, he wants to tell you so bad, but his eyes drift to the side and he sees a Zabrak walk in, and he immediately recognizes him as your target. 

Mando nods to the side. “Take him down and I’ll tell you.”

You look where he nodded and frown. “So much for a date,” you pout and look back at Mando. Sighing, you pick up your drink and stand. “Just know that I only have feelings for you, okay?” You ask, a hand on his shoulder as you walk to his side. 

“...Okay,” he nods, and you walk off, an extra sway in your hips. You may be wearing cargo pants, but your tight top and cinched belt accentuate your body. You’re gorgeous, Mando has to admit. 

The man sits at the bar and you pull up a stool next to him, smiling a little and sipping at your brightly colored drink. “Hey there.”

The man’s eyes look you up and down, and he licks his lips with an odd colored tongue. “Hey yourself. What’s your name, pretty thing?” He asks with hungry eyes. 

You need a cover name and you need it quick. “Manda,” you blurt with a smile, trying to hold back a laugh at the fact that you literally picked your date’s name- well, the one you know him by- but slightly augmented.

You rest your hand on the bar and the man picks up your hand, kissing your knuckles. “You can call me Gar.”

“Hello, Gar,” you giggle and bat your eyes at him. “What’s a man like yourself doing on Tatooine, hm?” You ask him, swirling your drink and sipping it as you look at him with doe eyes. 

He shrugs and looks forward, signaling the bartender for a drink. “I’m a wanted man, my dear,” he says with a salacious smile. 

He sure fucking is, you think to yourself, and you can’t help but snort. Maker, men are ridiculously easy targets. Your plays into your theme, at least. “Oh, and for what?” You ask, leaning in closer. You sneak a sedative dart from a pocket of your pants, holding it in the hand beneath the bar. 

“Stole an x-wing right off a Resistance base,” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” You giggle, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

He’s about to launch into a spiel when you stab the tranquilizer dart into the back of his hand. “Actually, don’t bother. I already know,” you chuckle, face close to his. He makes a noise of agony and surprise at the needle in his hand, and his body starts slumping. “Never lead by saying you’re a criminal,” you murmur next to his ear and stand, wrapping one of his arms around you and forcing him to walk along with you. 

“You’re a wanted man alright,” you chuckle as you walk out of the bar. You press the button on your comm. “Headed to the Crest. Cover our tab?” You ask into the vambrace. 

There’s a beat of silence. “Already on it, cyare,” the Mandalorian’s voice speaks through the beskar plate on your forearm. “How did you-

“Don’t work with misogyny, make misogyny work for you,” you grunt into the metal and drop your arm. 

The man groans as you drag him along. He looks drunk to anyone else, just barely coherent. “Fuckin’ bitch. Mandalorian’s little whore, huh?” he slurs at you, weakly trying to wrestle free of your grip but failing.

You push him into a nearby wall, twisting his arm at an impossible angle. “Try it again and I rip the horns from your head one by one,” you hiss into his ear.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he whimpers and you let him go, pulling him into the earlier position.

Peli’s hangar is only a short distance away. As you enter, the green toddler squeals in excitement and runs over to you. “Hey cutie,” you laugh as you see him. Peli isn’t far behind. “Go sit with Peli a little longer, let me get this guy in the ship, okay baby?” You tell him, and he obeys, waddling back to Peli, who gives you a little wave.

“Goddamn,” the Zabrak man groans. “That mando is green under there, then? How could you fuck something like that-”

“I can and will slit your throat right now and let you bleed out. You want your life?” You murmur, grabbing the blade from your thigh and holding it to his neck. He nods frantically. “Then shut the fuck up,” you grunt to him and haul him up the ramp, into the carbonite freezer. He begs and pleads until the hiss of the freezer begins and the man is sealed. “Thank the fucking Maker,” you groan as the words stop. 

You climb back down the ramp to find Mando already holding the child and paying Peli. He thanks her one last time and you take the baby from Mando’s arms. “Were you flirting with him?” He asks, wasting no time. His tone is deadpan.

“Clearly.”

“Why the hell-”

“I wasn’t doing it for fun,” you grimace at him. “This is my fucking method. It’s much fucking easier, and if I have the advantage I might a well take it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“That’s too fucking bad, Mando,” you practically spit, whipping around and walking deeper into the ship with the baby in your arms. “It’s my-”

“Din.” 

You turn around and look at him. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask, clearly annoyed. 

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

The anger fades from your body quickly. “Din,” you say back to him, slowly. 

He nods. “I… just got jealous, I suppose. I’m sorry.”

You finally offer a small smile, albeit a tired one. “Thank you. I don’t like doing it either but… it’s my way,” you shrug. 

He walks closer, putting a hand on each of your arms. “I get it.”

You smile softly and put one hand over his beskar-clad chest. “I told you, I only have feelings for you,” you tell him.

He nods softly. “I’m glad. I like it that way.”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “Well, Din. I suppose we could finish our date in here. I could cook something.” You look down at the little green child in your arms. “With him, maybe it’ll be more of a family night.”

Din cups your face in a leather-gloved hand. “Thank you, cyare,” he murmurs, thumb tracing over your cheek.

“What does that mean?” You ask him, looking into where you think his eyes sit beneath the helmet.

He presses your forehead to his, the beskar cool against your warm skin from the Tatooine air. “Beloved,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing your cheekbones.

A small gasp escapes your lips before they form a smile. “Beloved,” you hum back as he wraps an arm around you. “I like being called that.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers

Star Trek Discovery Season 4: What to Expect

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Yes, we’re already looking forward to Star Trek: Discovery Season 4. Season 3 saw the show go where no Star Trek has gone before – literally. Flung almost a thousand years into the future after saving all sentient life as we know it, Michael Burnham and her crewmates had to navigate a new and alien reality that bore little resemblance to the one they left behind.

Yet, the decision to send Discovery to the future is possibly the best decision the series has ever made, giving the show a much-needed narrative reset that cut ties to things like Klingon wars and The Original Series legacy characters and sends it off to blaze its own path, unencumbered by the strings of existing canon. But now that Discovery is firmly established in the 32nd century, what can we expect from Star Trek: Discovery‘s upcoming Season 4? We have a few educated guesses…

Michael Burnham Finds Her Feet as Captain

Despite her colorful history as an officer – replete with mutiny, insubordination, and general recklessness – it’s been obvious for a long time that Michael Burnham was destined for the Discovery captain’s chair. The only question was a matter of when. But now that she’s there – what kind of captain will she be?

She could very easily turn out to be one of the Starfleet greats. Despite her flaws, Michael has proven time again that she is smart, capable, and brave. A risk-taker who always comes through in the clutch, she has saved her crew more times than most of us can count and she is a shining example of someone who absolutely believes in the mission of the Federation and the good it can do.

But she’s also often rash and impulsive, and just a few short episodes ago wasn’t even all that certain that she belonged in Starfleet anymore. Granted, many successful male Starfleet captains (cough cough James Kirk cough) are remembered as great precisely because they weren’t huge fans of following the rules, either, so there’s certainly precedent that generally refusing to play things safe is a workable leadership strategy.

Yet, Michael has always found her greatest success as a character when she has an authority figure or structure that is set in opposition to her, so it will be interesting to see how she evolves now that she is the authority she once pushed back against.

What’s Next for Saru?

At the conclusion of “That Hope Is You, Part 2,” Saru took a leave of absence from the Starfleet to go with the young Kelpian refugee Su’Kal back to their home planet of Kaminar. What’s next for him is unclear, but there’s no way Discovery’s planning on writing off this character completely – or losing the talents of actor Doug Jones.

So what’s next for Saru? If he does return to the Discovery, what role can he fulfill now that he’s no longer captain? Does his future lie in the Federation hierarchy somehow, possibly working for Admiral Vance or serving as some sort of ambassador to his people?

A third option could involve Saru taking on an entirely different kind of mission, one that looks a lot like fatherhood of a sort. Ever since his arrival in the 32nd century, Saru has longed to reconnect with his people. Perhaps showing young Su’Kal the stars he’s missed out on all his life is something that might allow him to do just that on a smaller, more intimate scale. (And indulge his dorky dad vibes at the same time.)

Gray Will Return Somehow

During Adira’s trip to the dilithium planet to ferry medicine to Saru and Culber, we learned that the holodeck program on the abandoned Kelpian ship could extrapolate Gray’s consciousness and give him a holographic form. This allowed him to be seen by the other Discovery crew members present, which means that the technology clearly exists which can bring Gray back to life again. Sort of, anyway.

 Because, of course, Gray is technically dead and his consciousness only exists as part of the Tal symbiont inside of Adira, which raises many questions this subplot will eventually have to answer, including how much agency and sentience post-Burn holograms even have to begin with. (Eli the Federation lie detector hologram certainly seems independent enough.)

Culber has promised both Adira and Gray that he will find a way for him to be seen again. But what that will ultimately look like, we don’t yet know. There is precedent for the idea that one part of a Trill’s symbiont memories can live outside it, but does that mean Gray will become a hologram himself permanently? Or can his consciousness be housed in something that has a more physical form?

What’s Book’s Actual Job Now Anyway?

Now that Cleveland Book – and we’re still waiting for the story behind that name, btw – is officially a part of the Discovery crew, it’s time for the series to define his role in this universe beyond his relationship with Michael. Is he technically part of Starfleet now? Is he an officer on Discovery? Does Grudge get a tiny decorated insignia collar? (Please say yes!)

Much of Book’s role in Season 3 was to support Michael in one way or another, whether that meant to literally help introduce her to the new rules of the 32nd century or to provide emotional and tactical help when needed. And don’t get me wrong, Book and Michael have somehow managed to form one of the most functional, normal relationships in Star Trek history. They’re honestly great together. But David Ajala is a tremendously appealing actor and if he’s going to stick around – which I think we’re all in agreement he should – Book needs a meaningful story of his own.

Tilly’s Promotion

Following Michael’s promotion to the Captain’s chair, it certainly looks like Tilly is getting some sort of command-level promotion in Season 4.

Technically she was still an Ensign when serving as Saru’s Acting First Officer, and while she conducted herself admirably during, well, everything, if she’s going to be Michael’s legitimate First Officer – which that last scene would definitely seem to indicate – she deserves to at least become a lieutenant.

Stamets and Michael Will Have to Work Out Their Issues

One of the lingering unresolved plotlines from Season 3 is the massive rift that formed between Paul Stamets and Michael following her decision to physically jettison him from Discovery while it was under Osyraa’s control. To be fair, her choice was completely the correct one, as he was the only one capable of operating the spore drive, and removing him from the equation meant that the Emerald Chain couldn’t just jump back to the Verubin Nebula and all its dilithium.

But, Stamets basically took that decision to mean that Michael was fine with condemning his family to horrific radiation deaths, and that’s going to be a hard thing for him to get over. If you notice, he’s the only person who doesn’t exactly look thrilled at Captain Burnham’s promotion, and we don’t see the two interact again once the ship is reclaimed.

There’s also the question of the spore drive itself. Stamets has tied his own identity – and his worth as part of the Discovery team – pretty tightly to his ability to communicate with the Mycelial network. Now that Book can do the same thing, how will this change things for him?

We’ll Probably See More Episodic Storytelling

Solving the mystery of The Burn and battling the villainous Emerald Chain were both season-long arcs that helped establish Discovery’s place in the future, and allowed Discovery the show to set up the new rules and players of its universe. But now that both those tasks have been accomplished, don’t be surprised if we see a shift toward more episodic storytelling in Season 4.

After all, with a fresh new supply of dilithium to distribute and the entire future to explore, isn’t it time we spent some time seeing what the 32nd century looks like? Some of the most entertaining moments of this season came when Michael and the rest of the Discovery crew found themselves on new planets or adjusting to changed cultures (including their own). Since Discovery purposefully removed itself from all known Star Trek canon, isn’t it time the show got about really establishing some new ones? The revelation that Vulcan and Romulan reunification has indeed happened feels like it should be just the beginning of the surprises this universe has in store for us. What has happened to other species such as Klingons or the Borg? Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?

The Grudge Content We Deserve

One of the few things Discovery fans of all stripes can agree on: Grudge is amazing. And we deserve to see more of her. Whether that means all our initial speculation turns out to be true and she’s actually the secret god of a planet full of telepathic felines we’ve yet to visit or just that she gets her own bridge-safe cat basket so she can hang out with Book and Michael next season, just give the people what they want.

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Can we at least find out how she and Book ended up together? Throw me a bone – or I guess a cat treat – here, show. (Truly, if we don’t at least get a Short Treks episode about Grudge what are we even doing here?)

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Philtatos [12/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #undying love #reincarnation #secrets #oracle #betrayal #prophecy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim might be on the verge of panicking.

“It’s handled, I promise,” he insists again, stomach tightening in dismay at how much Cassie isn’t buying it. “We’ve got a system.”

“A system,” she repeats in clear disbelief.

“Yes, a system. And yes, it has a few kinks—but it’s working! According to Eros, most people that have been infected with his blood completely lose it in days, but it’s been two weeks and Jason’s still himself.”

“And you actually trust Eros isn’t just saying things you want to hear?”

“Not even a little,” Tim acknowledges. “But considering what I’ve seen when Jason lapses into his episodes, he could be doing a lot worse right now.” He remembers the older man’s condition in the containment unit before Tim figured out how to help him. “A lot worse.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Besides, Batman will flip if you guys descend on the city while he’s trying to deal with everything.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Seriously, you know how possessive he gets of Gotham, but it’s turned up to 11 whenever the Family’s involved.” Especially when that family’s Jason; their issues aside, if Jason’s in trouble, Bruce will drop everything for him. “I think piling anything else on him right now would make his brain explode.”

Cassie snorts. “Might we worth it then.”

“Cassie….I promise. We’re okay,” Tim insists. “I’m okay. And Jason’s so freaked out about this, he’s been cooperating more with us now than he has since he came back from the dead. He was the one who reached out for help from B, even. None of us could ever have seen that coming.”

Whether she’s surprised or not by Tim’s words, she continues to look doubtful.

“So where is he now?” she asks instead. “I don’t see him with you.”

Tim shifts in discomfort, glad she can’t see his body language below his head and shoulders. “I did tell you things weren’t as bad as they could be. It’s not like he has to be constantly glued to my side.”

Doesn’t mean he does well when he’s far away, though.

“I’m probably in more danger from Dick right now, and we’ve got him on lock-down. Hopefully not for long, if I can get Eros to help. Or if Jason can help.”

Wonder Girl continues to look like she’s waiting for a more convincing argument on Tim’s end, but he knows she trusts him. After doubting him when he believed Bruce was still alive and lost in time, she’s become the first one to believe even his most farfetched ideas and theories.

“Alright,” she says at last. “I’ll back off. For now. But I fully expect you to check in with me on the regular.” She jabs a finger in his direction. “If you go radio-silent on me again, we’re showing up there whether your or Batman like it or not.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it, Tim. I expect you to text me every hour or two to check in. And gods all help you if you’re downplaying any of this.”

“Acknowledged.”

She gives him one last worried look and then says, “Okay then. Take care. And I’ll talk to you in a few hours.”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck.”

The call ends and Tim lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. That was a close one.

“Does it ever bother you, how good you are at lying?” Steph’s voice asks from behind him and he winces.

Not out of the woods yet, I guess.

“Lies are a necessary evil in our line of work,” Tim dismisses, turning around to face her. She’s clearly returned to see if Bruce left him in pieces, which is both appreciated and slightly annoying. “You of all people know that.”

She snorts, acknowledging the dig, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she stays her course. “I’m not talking about our line of work; I’m talking about with your friends.”

“If it will protect—"

“They’re offering to help, Tim. I don’t know if we’re exactly in a position to be looking down on that.”

“We’re not at that point yet,” Tim insists.

“Oh, really? Sure you’re not avoiding accepting help because you don’t want any other people knowing about your feelings for Jason?”

His cheeks burn. He should have known she wasn’t going to just leave it. “That’s not it.”

“Really? Because honestly, if you’re ashamed of this—of him—that’s a pretty good indicator that this thing with him isn’t a good idea.”

“You think I don’t know it’s not a good idea?!” Tim snaps, his forced calm abandoning him all at once. “Like I don’t remember every reason why it can’t work? Or everything Jason’s done?”

What he could still do. Because if—when we fix him, it’s not like he’s going to stick around. Even if he’s not sick of looking at me after being forced to want me, he’s not about to settle down in Gotham and follow Bruce’s rules.

He clenches his fists, takes a breath and talks himself back down.

“I’m aware of all of this. I just don’t find it a good use of my time to fixate on something that’s not going to change.”

Steph is wary. “Sounds like you’re the one under some kind of spell.”

“Yeah, well, if I am, then it started years before we met Eros,” he mutters, earning a confused look from Steph.

“What do you mean? Like when he first came back?” She appears thoughtful and then shocked. “No way. You mean when you were following him and B around as a kid? There’s no way—!”

“It was different back then,” Tim defends, feeling something inside him loosen a little. He’s been holding this one secret back for so long, and with everything going on, something’s got to give. “It wasn’t what it is now. I was drawn to him. More than Dick. There was something about Jason that…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I felt a connection with him. I really can’t explain it. It should have gone away when he died.”

He remembers that dark time, and how it felt like a part of his insides had rotted away upon hearing the news of Jason’s death. How he hadn’t even been allowed to grieve openly about it because he technically hadn’t known the older boy.

Hell, it should have gone away when he came back.

Even now he can still feel the impact of fists beating him down, of wire cutting into his throat and the searing slice of metal ripping into his chest.

“But it didn’t. It just…got buried in everything else that was going on. And then…”

“Be my Robin.”

“Hey there, Replacement.”

“I wasn’t always the nicest guy in the world to you.”

“Timbers!”

“Sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Aw, babybird…”

“You did good.”

“And then it all came back,” Tim concludes, defeated.

Steph is still looking at him, mouth parted in surprise that flounders for a response to that. He decides not to give her the opening for it this time.

“Forget it. As I said, it doesn’t matter. The point I’m trying to make is I know it can’t go anywhere, and that I don’t expect it to. And the fewer people who know about it, the fewer people I have to put up with pitying me when everything goes back to normal.”

“And by normal, you mean back to you bottling it up and hurting yourself,” Steph reminds him with a scowl.

“I don’t know where you’ve been the past few years but that sort of comes with the territory.”

“Tim—”

“I have to update Bruce on what Cassie told me about Eros’ arrows.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, awesome subject change. Real subtle.”

“We don’t have time for subtle,” he shrugs and heads for the study. She follows him, and he can practically hear her grinding her teeth at him.

Guess I should just be glad that Cass isn’t here too, or that would have gone very different…

He knows Steph still isn’t satisfied with his answers, but he doesn’t care. At least bringing up the mission, he might be able to buy himself an hour or so before she starts again.

Taking the stairs down to the cave, he coaches himself to pretend like this is a normal case and that nothing of note happened down here. That Dick isn’t locked up on the lower levels, and that Jason didn’t kiss Tim and then run away.

He’s gratified to find Barbara is already there when he gets downstairs, just pulling herself into the wheelchair friendly area they designed for the conference table.  

“Tim,” she greets right away, a wan smile on her face. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m not the one in trouble,” he dismisses. “Jason is.”

“It’s why I’m here, kiddo. I think what he had me working on is related to everything that’s happening right now.”

“Explain,” Bruce commands.

“Shouldn’t we wait to get Jason back first?” Tim asks.

“I would, but I get the sense this is time-sensitive,” Barbara replies, jaw set as she brings out a thick metal disk that Tim recognizes as a microprojector. “Jason contacted me wanting to see what I could dig up on Carrie Cutter’s recent movements. It led us to her involvement in the murder of a girl we believe to be the actual Oracle of Delphi.”

“That’s not possible,” Damian says. “The last Oracle of Delphi disappeared before the fall of Rome.”

“More likely, moved underground,” Bruce muses.

“Exactly,” Barbara agrees. “I searched the web and official data servers and couldn’t find any information about the information besides what was in the newspapers. No surveillance, no video, audio—nothing. So I sent Duke to investigate the site.” She taps the device on the table and a holographic image appears, projecting a likeness of Signal in front of them at one-eighth the size. “He just arrived there.”

“What took so long?” Damian huffs.

“Unlike you rich kids, Greek wasn’t one of my high school electives,” Duke's voice deadpans across the comm line. “And real-time language translation software doesn’t exactly pick up the regional dialects very well.”

“Have you had time to go over the scene?” Tim asks.

“Not yet. Better to have you guys standing by instead of having to tell it all again later.”

“Even if this oracle said anything, Signal’s abilities don’t allow him to hear sounds,” Bruce points out.

“Witnessing everything firsthand will still give us a better idea of what’s going on,” Barbara answers.

“Might give you a better idea,” Duke replies. “It’s just going to give me nightmares.”

“What do you see?” Bruce asks.

There’s a sigh. “It’s not pretty…”

Right now, Tim is glad Jason isn’t around. Child deaths hit him hard.

“There’s a family sitting down for a meal,” Duke relates. “Mother, grandmother maybe—and the kid, it looks like. And she’s not just blind like Oracle’s reports said—she doesn’t have eyes at all.”

Steph swears.

“She hears something. Looks up. Mom’s heading for the door, and—and that’s Cutter. Exactly like the picture in her dossier. She’s just walking in and she—okay, that’s weird.”

“What?”

“She didn’t just burst in here with knives drawn. And she’s…kneeling?”

“That’s weird, right?” Steph asks.

“Oracles were intermediaries for the gods,” Barbara says. “It’s probably a formality. Like not turning your back on a king or something.”

“Cutter’s asking her something. Can’t really get the right angle to see what it is though. Now the girl’s talking.” A long pause. “She seems to have a lot to say. And Cutter’s hanging on to every word.” He glances at something invisible to the rest of them. “Mom and Grandma there seem more worried about all this than she is. If this kid’s a seer, you’d think she’d know what’s about to happen and try to—oh.”

He looks away then, the image of him balling his hands into fists.

There’s no need to ask why.

“It was quick,” he says after a moment, his voice heavy with anger and something else. “For her, at least. Not so much for the others. And she’s leaving now—that’s.”

He shakes his head, coming back to the present.

“Is there any indication of what the girl said to cause Cutter or whatever god is possessing her to lash out?” Bruce wants to know.

“Not really. I mean, I’ll try watching it again but—wait.” His image goes utterly still for a few seconds and then startles. “Okay, you guys are not going to believe this.”

“Stop drawing things out and get to the point!” Damian commands.

“Robin,” Bruce reprimands, earning a scowl but compliance. “What is it, Signal?”

“She’s talking in English.”

That makes them all look at each other.

“Are you sure?” Tim asks, at the same time Steph wants to know, “How can you be sure?”

“I know I haven’t got as much lip-reading practice as you guys, but I’ve gotten good enough to recognize someone speaking English,” Duke deadpans. “And everything this girl said, she said it in English.”

“That’s not possible,” Barbara says, frowning. “No one in the area speaks English. I checked.”

“Maybe she’s been getting private lesso—whoa.” He straightens up then, posture more alert. “Missed that before. She’s not looking at Cutter while she’s talking like I thought she was.”

“That matters?”

“Little bit, I think. Since she’s looking at me.” 

Tim’s mouth parts a bit. “What?”

“She knew you were going to be there,” Barbara realizes.

“Tell us what she’s saying,” Bruce orders.

“Give me a sec. It’s not like an instant replay button, you know.”

Everyone waits with bated breath as Duke tenses again and focusses. Then he speaks, careful and halting.

“' The…unseen…darkness…cannot keep…it’s captive…for mortal masks…the divine that seeks—'” Duke stops and shakes his head. “It’s too fast after that. Going to take some time to get the whole thing.”

Barbara breathes out something that could be a curse. “It’s a prophecy. An actual prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi.”

“Duke, make sure you record every single word exactly as it’s said,” Bruce orders. “With ancient prophecies, the smallest inaccuracy can change the entire meaning.”

“You suddenly believe in prophecies, B?” Duke asks.

“No. I believe in having the most complete picture possible. And rushing you will compromise that. Take the time you need to transcribe what she said and upload it to the system.” Bruce straightens up. “We’ll figure out the meaning behind it once we have the whole thing.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Shouldn’t take more than a few viewings for me.”

His image sputters and then vanishes.

“I know you’re good and all, Bruce, but ancient prophecies were created to be beyond what humans could understand,” Barbara points out. “And even if you figure out everything, there’s still all the double and hidden meanings.”

“We have access to Eros, though,” Damian points out. “Have him decipher it.”

Bruce shakes his head. “We can’t trust that he won’t twist the meaning for his own gain.”

“Or we can just ask Jason,” Tim points out.

“What?”

“Well, apparently part of being infected by the blood of a god means being able to read the languages and word of the gods. So somehow, his brain is operating on the same plane or wiring that Olympian gods do,” Tim explains. “Stands to reason he might be able to shed light on things that way.” There’s an air of hesitation in the air, and he continues, “Besides, we have to find him anyway. Other than the fact he might be hurt right now, Cassie said there’s a possibility he could help cure Dick.”

“How?” Damian demands immediately.

“Convoluted Olympian reasons,” Tim says, not wanting to get into it. “The point is, we need to find Jason before we do anything else.”

He meets and holds Bruce’s gaze, almost challenging him to find something more important. There’s a beat where the older man considers him with the full Batman calculation, and then he nods.

“Then we’re going to need the most up to date information on his usual bolt holes. You have the most up-to-date list.”

Tim is hesitant.

There are several safe houses he knows of that he’s sure no one else in the Family is aware of, not even Barbara. He’s kept to himself what he knew because Jason values his privacy. He won’t be happy if Tim rats him out.

But then again.

It’s been almost two hours since Jason left, and the last time he was away from me for so long things didn’t go well. He could be sitting in a corner with slit wrists for all we know.

His stomach twists painfully at the mental image, and that’s what decides him.

“Okay,” he says, and slides over the computer to type the addresses and coordinates of the mental list he’s been keeping.

Twelve locations pop up on the giant map of Gotham. Bruce’s eyebrows draw together as they rove over three that he clearly didn’t know about. If anyone thinks it’s odd that Tim has such detailed knowledge of Jason’s comings and goings, no one mentions it. Instead, Bruce’s shoulders set and he turns to the others.

“We’ll cover the ground faster if we split up,” he declares. “Alfred will stay here in case he comes back to the manor on his own. Stephanie, cover these three—” He gestures to the blinking dots across the East End, “—Damian, the ones off the Financial District. I’ll take the docks and Tricorner—”

“What about me?” Tim interrupts.

“You’re still benched.”

“I know that. But shouldn’t I still come alone to calm him down?”

“No. You need to remain in one place so it’s easier to bring him to you if required.”

Tim wants to argue, but he knows Bruce has a point. Whether Jason elects to return to the manor on his own or the others find him, they need to know where to bring him.

“It’s just as well,” Barbara says. “We need to speak to Eros. We can go to Tim’s place and wait there.”

“He’s unlikely to be honest,” Bruce says.

“Maybe, but even lies can give us an idea of the truth. You see it a lot in historiography. Lots of sources are biased, the trick is to get as many as possible to form the most accurate picture possible.”

Tim pounces on the opportunity to do something.

“We can get Eros to tell us what all this means, and then we ask Jason when we find him. He’ll be able to fill in anything that might have gotten ‘lost’ in Eros’ version.”

“Assuming he’s even lucid anymore,” Steph asks. “How do we know he hasn’t devolved into a gibbering idiot already?”

“He hasn’t,” Tim says immediately.

“And you know this how?”

He recalls the mysterious blades Jason was so evasive about. “I just do.”

Stephanie’s eyes narrow, and he knows she’s likely trying to decide how much of his confidence is justified and how much is due to his feelings.

As if I’d be that unprofessional, he thinks in annoyance as he goes to copy the recording of Duke’s findings.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says and turns toward the stairs. Then he pauses. “And Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Civvies only. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

Tim rolls his eyes but decides to allow it—for now. “Okay, Bruce.”

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go,” Barbara says, wheeling toward the elevator. “Time to interrogate a god.”

He makes a face. “Are you sure you want to subject yourself to that? He’s kind of a jerk.”

“I spent the last ten years dealing with immature man-children. This will be a breeze.”

⁂

“Now that we’ve got the broad terms of the agreement sorted out, there is one tiny, slight hiccup,” Eros says.

“Only the one?” Jason retorts, unimpressed, rubbing at the site of the wound which started all of this.

“Only one that matters,” the Olympian says. “See, I did have a vial of Stygian Sleep on me—always do, since you never know when you need to make a quick escape from a family dinner.”

“Right…”

“But like I said, I wasn’t expecting you two to burst into my digs—just like I wasn’t expecting bird boy to lock me in this glorified hamster cage. So that vial is still hidden in one of the pieces on display at my warehouse.”

Jason groans. “Which was repossessed by the cops right after we busted it up.”

“Probably.”

“So now a deadly Olympian poison is in evidence lock-up at GCPD headquarters?”

“Possibly? Though they won’t even know what it is or where it is. It’s hidden in something that looks like a stone slab, so I doubt they’ll be cracking it open looking for drugs or anything.”

“It still leaves me with the problem of gettin' in there and grabbin' it, doesn’t it?” Jason snarls.

He paces a bit back and forth, trying to think up the best way to get inside without attracting attention. He’s got his own base of operations under the building, but he’s not keen on potentially burning that location just for the sake of finding Eros’ lost property.

Assuming it’s even there in the first place. Maybe it’s still back at the docks; they might not have confiscated everything yet. Unlikely, but possible. I’ll have to go there first. Possibly run into whatever scavengers or light security force is hanging about.

Not something he wants to do when he’s this compromised.

“Look at that, I can practically see the cogs spinning behind that sexy brow,” Eros says. “Hopefully whatever you come up with is more successful than your last plan.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, in your dramatic entrance, you seem to have forgotten to let me know how the ritual went. Since you’re here and my arrows aren’t, obviously you failed.”

“And got shot for my trouble,” Jason grumbles. “Speakin' of, any idea why your all-powerful arrows wouldn’t work on me, but they did on my br—on Nightwing?”

“The golden arrows can’t invalidate a match that they’re responsible for creating,” Eros says. “To do that, you’d have to be hit first with a leaden arrow to invalidate the feelings.”

“But we weren’t hit with any arrows this lifetime. Think we would have noticed by now.”

“Not in this life. Keep up, precious. You were joined together with Patroklus since the first time you were alive. Normally, that kind of bond vanishes with death—the whole Lethe deal, right?”

“…Normally.”

“But you died loving each other. Your last thoughts in both your lives have always been on each other. That’s powerful magic, older than me even. It seems to have given you a measure of protection your Nightwing doesn’t have, by confusing the diviners into thinking you’re still matched.”

“So I’m what, immune?” That could be a good thing.

“Maybe? I wouldn’t put money on it. You probably just got lucky. If you get hit by the lead one next time, it could sever even that. So, try not to get shot again, m’kay?”

“Great advice,” Jason seethes.

Though if he didn’t have any kind of connection to Tim, it would be that much simpler to foil the machinations of this entitled godling and whatever entity is working with Carrie Cutter.

The instant the thought enters his mind, he wants to throw up. The idea of hating Tim now—even though he can remember what that felt like—sends a visceral terror slamming into him with the same force of the Joker’s crowbar.

So much for having any kind of advantage in this whole situation.

Damn it, what am I even supposed to do about Tim?

His personal feelings (and the supernatural infection) aside, the best thing would be to avoid him. He’s not quite sure how he’ll be able to interact with or even just be around the younger man now that he knows the truth. Especially since with every passing minute he’s remembering more bits and pieces of lives long forgotten—he recalls the promises they made each other, can remember the feel of Tim’s skin beneath his fingers and the taste of his lips—

Stop it.

No, he can’t tell him.

Tim, like both of his past lives, will put what he thinks are Jason’s needs in front of his own. Worse, it will all be him humoring him, which puts a sour taste in Jason’s mouth. The idea of devaluing the bond between them that has spanned time and space and civilizations is almost as painful as the knowledge that bond is about to be severed—and by him, no less.

There’s a distant sound of a motor, the hum of the secret garage door of the Nest opening, and Jason tenses.

Shit. Tim.

He needs to get out of here before he’s noticed.

Except, he can’t seem to make his limbs move.

If he were completely himself, he could be out of here in an instant without even evidence that he was here. But—

But Tim is close. He’s nearby and—

And Jason knows that he’s not going to get anything done unless he gets a fix, something to hold him over while he figures out the next step in his plans.

Shit, now I’m comparing him to drugs. What the hell.

Somehow, the decision to not leave before Tim allows him some measure of movement.

Jason shoves the gold coin into his pocket—he can figure out what to do with it later—and forces himself to act. He has to delete whatever surveillance footage is on the Nest from the last hour before Tim arrives.

He can’t have him knowing what’s going on. Not unless Jason can think of a better explanation than, ‘hey, by the way, reincarnation is real, and we used to be in love with each other and I’m pretty much looking at a suicide mission in my near future.’

That definitely won’t go over well.

He looks up as a car pulls in, tires barely squealing to a stop before Tim is out the door.

“Jason!”

He’s in civvies now, less covered in grime and bruises than before, and instead of a mask, he’s wearing dark shades to hide his eyes.

Jason swallows the growing lump in his throat and fights down the temptation to hurry forward and wrap his arms around the smaller man. Seeing Tim now—now that he’s remembering—Jason is reliving moments long forgotten, soft laughter in his ear and fingers running through his hair and warmth and safety and—

He inhales sharply, shaking away the images.

That’s over, he tells himself as Tim comes to a stop a few paces in front of him.

“You’re here?” His surprised expression blossoms with what Jason can only describe as relief, even though he can’t understand the reason behind it. He doesn’t remember their pasts, he has no reason to care about Jason beyond the parameters of this mission.

“Yeah,” he replies cautiously, folding his arms and taking a half-step backward.

He needs to keep his distance, no matter how much his fingers are twitching to thumb Tim’s lower lip, how much he wants to wrap him in his arms, bury his face in the crook of his neck and—

“I needed a face-to-face with the source of all our problems,” he says, voice hoarse as he nods toward Eros.

“He was very rude,” the Olympian agrees. “Told me he’d kill me and everything. Isn’t that right, Jason?”

Tim barely spares a glance at Eros, face still pulled into a concerned frown as he steps forward. “I was worried. Driving in your condition, you could have gotten into another accident.”

“Someone gave me a lift.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s…” Tim trails off, perhaps seeming a little lost before his features arrange themselves into careful blankness. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

He reaches out to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason pulls back.

“Not a good idea.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Really? Have you looked in the mirror? Your pale and sweating, your eyes are bloodshot and your knees look like they’re about to give out under you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Well, neither are you,” he shoots back. “Why are you even here? You shouldn’t be anywhere near me after I…”

He trails off, remembering suddenly that they’re not alone.

“You just shouldn’t be here,” he finishes, a little lamely.

Eros is watching all of this with a smarmy grin on his face, and when Jason hears a noise behind him, he turns in time to see Babs just lowering herself out of the passenger seat of the car into her wheelchair. She’s also wearing dark tinted glasses to hide her identity, and he sort of wishes he had thought to do the same before staggering in here to confront the Olympian.

Tim continues to frown at Jason like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and then his expression softens a bit.

“Let’s talk, okay?” he offers. “Just talk. Like adults, okay?”

“Oh, this should be good,” Eros says, and the asshole actually rubs his hands together.

This time, Tim shoots him a glare. “Not here.”

“Take your time,” Barbara says, wheeling closer to the containment unit and glaring up at Eros. “Tweety Bird and I need to have a little chat anyway. There are a few things that probably make more sense from the original source.”

From the way she’s looking at the Olympian, if it were anyone else, Jason would feel sorry for him; considering what he’s holding over Jason’s head, he kind of hopes Barbara has him crying before the end of the night.

Before he can get too detailed with his inner imaginings of how to make the god of love miserable, the hair on the back of his neck and arms raises and Tim walks passed him—worryingly close to him—and heads for the entrance to his apartment. “Coming?”

And he really, really shouldn’t.

But the hunger that isn’t hunger is stronger, starving just to be in the same general radius as the younger man.

How am I supposed to sneak off to find Eros’ supply of Stygian Sleep if I can’t even think around this?

He tells himself it’s purely tactical, that he’s just getting his fix of being around Tim, enough to make getting out of here and getting what he needs to complete his deal with Eros.

“Fine,” he replies, voice strained.

He follows Tim out of the Nest, keeping a carefully calculated distance between them as long as he can. Once inside the apartment, Tim heads for the kitchen and opens the fridge.

“You hungry?” he asks, as casually as if Jason just happened by for a visit—except it’s not casual, because it’s never happened. “After everything that’s happened tonight, you need to keep your energy up.” He pauses and then looks apologetic. “I mean the fight with Carrie and your magic swords, not the, uh, other—”

“I’m sorry,” Jason blurts out. “About what happened.”

“Jason—”

“I wasn’t thinkin'—shit, obviously I wasn’t thinkin'—but I figured I had a handle on the impulses.”

“It’s not—”

“You shouldn’t even want to be around me right now.”

“Jason, it’s okay,” Tim insists, slamming the fridge door and raising his voice. “I just didn’t think you were at the point where you…I didn’t think you wanted—”

“Well, neither did I!”

Jason’s still not sure if it was the infection that prompted him to make a move on Tim, or the latent memories trying to get out. If anything, the kiss is what woke him up, so maybe it was the latter.

In which case, it’s even more important to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“We’re not doing this…this anymore,” he decides gesturing between them. “You’ve already let me push the boundaries on this one way too far, and you shouldn’t be expected to let someone full-on grope you—"

“You didn’t grope me.”

“Whatever I did, it wasn’t okay because you don’t want me to—"

“I want you to,” Tim says, so quickly that he blushes, looking like he surprised himself.

Jason freezes, wondering if he’s hearing things. He takes an extra few seconds to review that. “What.”

“Not like that,” Tim rushes to explain, words tripping over each other; he glances away. “I mean—it’s just…it’s not as big an issue as you’re making it. Don't look at me like that, it's not a big deal. In the grand scheme of stuff you’ve done to me, kissing me doesn’t even register at the top of the Horrible Things That Could Happen List.”

“Stop tryin' to make me feel better. You suck at it.”

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better. It really could be worse.” His words continue to rush into each other, betraying his obvious discomfort. “And I know you won’t read into it beyond this being me helping you, and we’re all aware of your views on consent, so I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And it’s not like if I had to make out with Ra’s al-Ghul, right?”

Jason growls, remembering Eros’ threat. “Thanks for that scarring imagery, and the comparison with the creepiest creeper we know. That makes me feel so much more on board with this.”

“The point is if it’s something that helps you, if this grounds you…if you want to…whatever it is, I’m okay with it.”

And doesn’t that just tear into Jason?

“There’s two people involved in this, Tim!” he snaps. “And I’m not okay with it just because it’s supposed to help me. If you even knew…”

Knew what I want to do with you. To you. What we’ve already done, and you don’t even remember—!

“Look, we just can’t, okay?”

Tim lets out a frustrated puff of air. His cheeks puff in a way that has Jason swallowing hard, contemplating how suspicious it would seem if he took off back to the cave.

“Okay, let’s try a compromise here,” Tim says after a minute. “What if we made a list?”

Jason blinks and can’t help glancing back. “What?”

“Of things that we can both agree beforehand are…acceptable. If I’m telling you beforehand exactly what is and isn’t okay, then maybe you won’t feel so much like you’re taking advantage if you need to—if you need to do something to anchor yourself.”

“Tim…”

“No, listen—you were right before. Me just giving a blanket statement that everything’s okay, it isn’t me being honest with you. This way, we can both have boundaries.” Jason is already gearing up to protest until Tim adds, “It might not be a long-term solution, but it’s something, right? And anything not on the list, you can just ask or try to remember if you have the sudden compulsion to do something. And if I’m not comfortable with it we can—I don’t know, try to redirect somehow.”

“You mean if I suddenly get the urge to stick my tongue down your throat?” Jason deadpans. “Give you a warnin' so you can knock me out?”

Tim’s cheeks flare pink. “Um…not…exactly. But yeah. That’s sort of the idea.”

“Except I couldn’t stop myself before,” he points out. “What makes you think I’ll be able to now?”

Tim thinks about it, bites his lip—oh, don’t do that, please don’t do that—and then shrugs. “I trust you.”

So not a good answer, kid.

As if he can sense the direction of his thoughts, Tim narrows his eyes and juts his chin out. "I do."

“This is such a bad idea,” Jason croaks.

“Got any better ones? Whether we manage to cure you or not, we’re on limited time here. We’ve all been trained to withstand torture for days. I know you can do this.”

Just what every guy wants to hear—that the person they’re hitting on is comparing it to torture.

And that’s what it would be, too, for Jason at least.

But he’s still thinking about it—gods above, he’s thinking about it.

Because this is Patroklus and Hephaestion all over; this is Tim. Always has a plan, always has a scenario and an answer to everything. He means it as an olive branch, but Jason can’t help seeing it as a lifeline.

I should just tell him. If I tell him, we can figure this out together.

But he can’t.

Because he remembers.

Letting Patroklus plan, giving him the reigns of control, allowing him to know the full story, that’s only ever gotten him killed. In both their previous lives he planned everything in their lives around Achilleus or Alexandros’ legacy—around his glory and survival.

At least keeping Tim in the dark will keep his mind on the case—on stopping Carrie and her unnamed god friend from unleashing whatever trouble they’re seeking on Gotham. The city needs Tim’s brains focused on that, not on Jason’s past lives’ feelings.

As it is, in the long run, it won’t matter. There might be a cure for Jason’s condition, but Eros all but told him he’s not going to be the one benefitting from it. Even if they find the diviners beforehand, Eros has made it clear what will happen.

What’s the point of bringing it all up when there’s no getting out of it?

Jason’s pretty much signed a new death warrant for himself and he won’t just be going to the green paradise of his memories when this is over. And he won’t be seeing Tim or any version of him ever again.

He studies Tim now, watching him shift uncomfortably as he waits for Jason’s response to his plan. A plan that is hopeful and sweet in the face of a life they both know is anything but. Ignorant of the entire situation, Tim is still trying to give Jason as long as he can as himself.

Which, if I’m going to be spending an eternity alone in some fresh patch of hell…why can’t I have a few days?

Being with Tim as long as possible, even if Tim doesn’t remember the truth of it all…maybe that would be okay.

He feels his misgivings ebb away—gods, I’m weak—and allows himself to relax.

“So,” he begins, tentative, “what would be a definite ‘no’ for you?”

Tim’s eyes widen incrementally, surprise flashing across his features, but he is quick to hide it. He obviously wasn’t expecting Jason to give in.

Tilting his head to one side in thought, he is silent a further few seconds, and then says, “Don’t slap my ass.”

It’s so unexpected that Jason can’t help the startled laugh. “Really?”

“I mean, I might forgive that sort of thing in private, but in front of other people definitely not. I always found it kind of tacky.” Tim pulls out one of the stools along the kitchen island and sits down in a careful attempt to be casual.

“I’m insulted you think that I’d slap someone’s ass in any situation.”

“I’ve seen you slap Roy Harper’s ass.”

“Bullshit.”

“You know how much surveillance footage we have archived of you and the Outlaws?”

“Fine. Stalker.” But the word is more affectionate than anything else. “But to be fair, it’s Roy. He does it too. It’s a…a brother’s thing.”

Mostly. Except not really. And I really hope that all that surveillance footage doesn’t extend to the interior of Kori’s ship…

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And how many times have you and Dick played ‘slap-the-ass’?” The minute the words are out, Tim turns red and makes a face like he’s just had the oxygen sucked out of his lungs; Jason himself is having a bit of trouble breathing. “I did not mean it like that,."

His face falls into his hands.

“Gods, I hope not. Way to add to the list of shit I need therapy to deal with.” Noting the younger man’s utter mortification, Jason decides it’s high time they moved this discussion along. “Okay. Fine. So, what else? No mackin' on you, obviously.”

“I told it’s fine.”

“I can tell by your tone it’s not.”

He gets a frustrated look for that, and then Tim rolls his eyes and huffs. “I’d prefer if you have to, not to do it around anyone in the Family. We’ve got enough issues to deal with beyond the commentary and worried staring. But more than that, I’m not a huge fan of PDA. It’s uncomfortable.”

Jason thinks about it and nods.

“I guess I can understand that,” he muses. “You get followed around by the paparazzi all the time. Sucks havin' people’s attention on you all the time.”

“It’s not just that. When I was a kid, my parents…well, they just were never the overly affectionate type. I’m not saying I was deprived,” he is quick to add when Jason’s brows begin to draw together, “I was just used to a more reserved kind of affection. Because in public, it all became an act. The spotlight was on us to look overly warm and loving and…it was basically the Drake version of Brucie.”

Jason gags.

“Ever since then, I try to avoid having people look at me like I’m their entertainment unless I’ve planned it out that way.”

There’s a wary, almost vulnerable edge to Tim’s words that make Jason think that this is the first time he’s ever told anyone this rather personal bit of information. He’s simultaneously grateful to have Tim’s trust, while at the same time wondering if this is just him exposing himself to make Jason feel better about his own vulnerabilities.

“What else?” he asks, hesitant but at the same time desperate for him to keep talking. To keep opening up to him.

Tim thinks again. “Uh…don’t touch my neck.”

“Huh?”

“Like, don’t rest your arms along the back of my neck, or hold it with your palm. Shoulders are okay, but my neck, that’s…I don’t like it.”

And that’s…oddly specific. Before he can fully form a question about why that is, he’s hit by another flash of memory. This one, however, isn’t of warmth or safety, but of Jason himself holding Tim up high, wire wrapped around his throat and choking the life out of him.

His heart thuds in dismay and realization.

“I’m sorry.”

“Jason—”

“What I did to you wasn’t right.”

“We’ve been over this already—”

“We’ll never be completely over it,” Jason cuts him off. “It’s always going to be there, in the background of everythin'.” He clenches his fists. “I was puttin' my anger on the wrong person, and you got hurt because of it.”

“You weren’t in your right mind back then.”

“And how many creeps have we locked away for crimes they committed when they weren’t ‘in their right mind’?” Jason counters.

“The difference is that before this situation—before what was done to you—you were a good person. You protected people—you protected kids like me. And you're still a good person where it counts.”

Jason recalls three blood-soaked lifetimes that disprove everything Tim just said. “I was never a good person.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“No, there’s no disagreein', there’s just fact. I’ve been damaged since before I was stupid enough to get caught by the Bat.” Jason takes a step back. “We need to forget about this. After everythin' I did to you, this is a bad idea—”

“Jason, for god’s sake would you—” Tim stops talking all of a sudden, touches the comm in his ear. Then he scowls. “On our way.”

“What’s going on?”

“Babs needs us back,” Tim replies in a flat, irritated tone. Clearly he's not happy to have been interrupted. “Duke’s sending along what he found in Delphi. That’s actually another reason we wanted to find you.” He levels a sharp look at Jason. “I think it’s important we continue this conversation, but not now.”

“Small miracles,” Jason mutters under his breath.

“Probably not. Based on what Duke and Babs have said, apparently there’s a prophecy involved in all this.”

“Of fuckin' course there is,” Jason groans. "Does it say I got a starrin' role in it?"

I swear, if this involved me being a Chosen anything again, I’m out. I’ve done enough of that for three lifetimes…

"I guess we're about to find out." 

Tim stands up and heads for the door to his base, and then pauses to look back at Jason. He raises an eyebrow, somehow challenging and questioning at the same time, and then holds his hand out. 

Jason stares at it for a moment, almost the same way he would assess an enemy for hidden weapons, but it's just Tim's hand and he hasn't touched him in hours...

Every argument against it has already crumbled before he's reached out to lace his fingers through Tim's.

"You fight dirty," he accuses, weary.

"You like it."

That's entirely the problem, babybird.

 ⁂⁂⁂

________________________________________________________________

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Next Chapter

Fictober 2019 - Day 20 with special guests: Day 19, Day 18 and Day 15

From The Fictober 2019 event <3

Prompt 20 : “You could talk about it, you know?”

Prompt 19 : “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

Prompt 18 : “Secrets? I love secrets.”

Prompt 15 : “That’s what I’m talking about! ”

Fandom : Star Trek: Voyager, Skyrim

Words : 3,551

Warnings : light gore and mention of blood and body horror

Day 20, 19, 18, and 15 - Vorik x Modern!OC

With a loud whoosh the flames from my hands extinguished as the last vampire collapsed in a heap of ashen clothes. The cavern plunged into near-total darkness again save for the flickering torch on the stone floor that Vorik had been carrying until we were ambushed. One fairly short fight later showed them this coven never stood a chance. I shook out my still smoking hands and blew on them. “Damn, that will never get old. It's still so cool!”

“Technically, it would be hot,” my companion said dryly, nudging a set of black robes near the entrance with the toe of his boot. A dagger clinked onto the limestone and he bent to pick it up and inspect it.

I was already heading towards the line of cupboards and bookcases along one roughhewn wall to rummage through them. “‘Cool' is human vernacular, you know, for when things are—”

“Yes, I am familiar with the terminology.” I heard the clatter of metal from behind me. Dagger must not have been up to his standards, I thought with a smile.

“Oh, so you're just being facetious,” I laughed.

Vorik fixed me with a somewhat smug look. “Yes.”

“Jerk,” I said with a smile.

Returning to my grand work pulling out drawers, I had to marvel at the little details that didn’t exist when I would play Skyrim on my computer. Where before I would “Press A to open” things and get a list of goods inside, I now had to work at finding anything worth looking for. I pulled out a rough linen dress from the bottom drawer and shook it out. I was rewarded by a puff of dust and the clatter of lockpicks on the rocks. One thing was for sure. This certainly felt a lot more like stealing now that I had to dig through physical objects to take things.

I grabbed the little coin purse tucked in the corner and turned around to search for the lockpicks I’d inadvertently spilled all over the floor, but my friend was ahead of me.

As Vorik extended his hand to give me the lockpicks, I noticed a streak of dark green on the inside of his arm.

I gasped. “Vorik! Are you bleeding?”

Appearing to notice it for the first time, the Vulcan inspected his forearm, loosening his leather braces so he could pull the shirt back. There, standing out stark against his pale yellow skin, thick dark green blood oozed out of two long jagged claw-like nicks. “Curious,” he murmured. “Are the safeties off?”

“They shouldn't be,” I replied slowly. “Computer? Status of holodeck safety protocols, please.”

An acknowledgment beep sounded in bizarre contrast to our surroundings from somewhere in the depths of the limestone vampire den. Then the robotic voice answered, “Holodeck Safety Protocols are still in effect.”

“Okay, thank you.”

We looked at each other.

“This wound is not real, then.”

“Looks pretty real,” I said doubtfully, reaching out to take his arm. But I stopped short and kept my hands to myself. “Does it feel real?”

Vorik glanced at me through his eyelashes. “Perhaps you should look away.”

“Why?”

“You're squeamish,” he said as though it should have been obvious.

I shrugged. “Whatever. It's not my blood.”

His eyebrow rose but he didn't say anything else before he grabbed his wrist with his other hand and squeezed. More blood seeped from the wounds running in long drips down his arm. A little gush shot into the air.

He was right. I should have turned away.

“What the fu—Oh, gross,” I choked before I clamped my mouth shut and spun around so my lunch wouldn't come up next. Even though on some level, I knew that our bodies acted differently despite looking very similar on the surface, I still wasn’t prepared for that. I don’t think I would ever have been prepared for blood spurts. My stomach churned.

“It does feel real,” I heard him say, his tone completely indifferent, “and it is acting real as well.”

“Well jus—ggkkh. Stop playing with it and just take care of it, will you?”

Unable to stand there without imagining more blood spurting from his arm, I wandered away towards the mouth of the cavern. It opened up into a long, steep passageway that led outside. It would take some time to walk but I knew that’s where it went. So whether the air was actually cooler or better circulated,  or I just imagined it was, being at the passage helped clear the dizziness somewhat. I certainly felt less like I would pass out, leaning against the rocky wall.

After a few minutes, Vorik joined me, his mouth turned in that slight secretive sort of smile that always killed me. “I did warn you to look away.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just so you know, we should find an herbalist or an apothecary as soon as we get back into town. You should have a Potion of Cure Disease on hand.” He looked over at me quizzically, so I clarified: “In case you get vampirism.”

This time my companion scoffed. “I cannot contract vampirism. I'm Vulcan.”

“What's that got to do with anything?” I laughed. “You think you're immune? Why? Because your blood is green or because your ears are already pointy? You were nicked with a vampire's claws, which means you can contract vampirism. Those are the rules of Skyrim set down by our lord and savior, Todd Howard.”

I felt more than I saw his eye roll. Together we ventured back into the gloom of the hallway. The torch in Vorik’s hand cast leaping shadows over the jagged limestone walls as we made out ascent.

“I am certain I cannot contract vampirism. This program was not made for my kind, the default avatar setting is human. And vampires can only be human, as they are human legends.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Sounds an awful lot like more speculation than a logical assumption, my dude. You don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to, but you’d better stay away from my neck!”

                                                              ***

“Computer, end program,” Vorik said into the air. No sooner had the acknowledgment sounded than the world shimmered and disappeared around us. My house in Riften was replaced by the reflective metal and crosshatching, bonelike metal bars of the holodeck. Vorik’s armor and most of my own, with the exception of Gilmorrak and my belt, disappeared, replaced by our civilian clothes.

“Hey, how’s your arm, by the way?”

He unbuttoned the clasp at the cuff and rolled up the sleeve of his grey tunic. He twisted his forearm left and right for me to see. There was no trace of any blood now. No evidence that he’d been harmed at all.

“Evidently it was part of the holodeck program.”

I shook my head. “That’s weird though because I’ve been straight up stabbed and shot with arrows until I looked like a pin cushion and I still never bled. It’s got to be a vital part of the programming, dude.”

“It is strange,” he agreed, “but it shouldn’t be of any concern. The wound is gone now. It was likely an oversight on the part of Mr. Kim or Mr. Paris. Perhaps something about translating such an ancient game to the holodeck.”

I ignored his jab at Skyrim and flashed him a smile. “Unless you become a vampire in the next couple of days,” I said.

“I will not become a vampire.”

I shook my head at him and sighed as he led me towards the door. I was always a little sad to leave Skyrim, or any of the holodeck programs, honestly, but my crewmates needed time to play. If I didn’t have that pang of guilt and unfairness hanging over my head, I would be way too content to stay on a holodeck forever. It always astounded me while watching the show: How could these people have this technology and not want to be there all their lives?

“Can a person live in a holodeck program?” I asked as we exited. I recognized the next two eager adventurers as Ensigns from security, so I waved while Vorik nodded to them.

“No, so you should never try it,” Vorik said, catching on easily to my line of thought. He did that a lot. I guess I was just a simple sort of creature. “Most holodeck programs are not equipped for sustained use,” he went on, “You would drain the reactors quickly. And while some holodecks utilize food replicators, like our own, this is not true for each one. Non-starship decks tend to use lower grade protein synthesizers since holographic meals are not meant to be the staple of one’s diet. These would have negligible nutritional value and you would eventually waste away.”

“You’re a spoilsport.”

“And you would kill yourself chasing fantasy as a coping mechanism. Problems, even your emotional ones, should be faced head on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

I stopped dead in the hallway and gaped at him. Vorik had continued several paces before he realized I was no longer beside him. He looked around expectantly, his hands clasped behind him, but my brain had 404-ed.

“Did you just…?” A smile crept onto my face. “Did you just… quote Albus mcfreakin’ Dumbledore at me?”

Vorik stared at me blankly.

“You did, didn’t you? You thought I wouldn’t catch it, but you did! You read it??”

Vorik’s eyes closed for a half a second longer than normal as he took a deep breath. His gaze cast downward for a moment as if resigning himself before he looked at me again. “Yes, I did—”

I rushed him and grabbed him by the arms, grinning from ear to ear now. “You did? You did! Ohmygosh! You have to tell me what you think. What part are you at? How far have you gotten? Were you planning on reading through all of them or were you just trying out the first one? Are you finished with it? Please—ohmygod—tell me everything!”

Appearing both bemused and like he had just realized he’d made a horrible mistake, my Vulcan friend led me towards the mess hall, succinctly answering my questions as rapidly as I fired them off.

                                                             ***

“You don’t look too good,” I told Vorik as I set my bowl of spaghetti down at our table in the corner of the mess several days later. It was quiet, halfway between a midshift, and the hall was all but empty save for a handful of people and one Vulcan with his head in his hands.

At my voice, he sat up straight and blinked whatever it was bothering him away. “I am fine.”

“You look pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Fork in hand, he started picking at his food. “I just need to meditate,” he mumbled.

I nodded and spun my own fork in my noodles idly for a few heartbeats. But like so many somewhat intrusive thoughts, I couldn’t keep it in my brain, and I opened my mouth to say conspiratorially, “Unless.”

“Giana,” Vorik warned, closing his eyes.

“Is the vampirism making you peakish?”

“I am not a vampire.”

“Sounds exactly like the sort of thing a vampire would say,” I replied, jutting out my lip in a face of disbelief. “But seriously, you could talk about it, you know. The actual thing that’s bothering you, I mean, not your unfortunate illness.”

Vorik rolled his eyes at me and continued to push his food around his tray. Even that he gave up after a few moments with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I haven’t been able to sleep. Or allocate the proper time to meditate. I keep going over our run-in with mining colony virus. There has to be something else we could have done, without leaving the captain to take care of herself.”

I barely suppressed a shudder at the mention of the nasty bugs that solidified my now-very-rational fear of anything insect-like. Doing what I did best, I covered it with humor. “Are you not sleeping at night because your new lifestyle requires you to sleep during the day?” He opened his mouth like he was going to chastise me, so I quickly added, “Captains are supposed to be able to take care of things themselves, that’s why they’re captains. Besides, there wasn’t anything else you could have done. We all did our best! We didn’t know we were being attacked. I can’t believe I, of all people, have to tell you this, but agonizing over it isn’t logical.”

“Perhaps not. But analyzing a situation where I believe my abilities to have failed me for the purposes of self-reflection and to ensure it does not happen again, is.”

I waved my fork around and shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I’m mad at myself too for forgetting that stupid episode happened. Must’ve blocked it out. Those things were so nasty. And I bet if we weren’t all so caught off guard maybe we woulda thought of the holodeck trick too. I dunno, just be glad the captain came back when she did and don’t lose your head over it. I don’t want you to spiral out of control with your analysis, my dude.”

“I will not. I am not you.”

“Ouch.”

A new person joined us at the table. Their tray clattered next to mine and I turned to find Harry grinning at me. Instantly, I beamed back. His smile was always so infectious.

“Hey guys. What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Nothing,” Vorik said.

“It’s a secret.” I said over him.

“Secrets?” chimed a new voice, “I love secrets.” Tom sat on Harry’s other side and almost immediately began shoveling his mashed potatoes into his mouth as soon as his tray was down. “Do tell.”

“There is nothing going on,” Vorik repeated, his voice a little tighter. “There are no secrets. Giana is being impossible.”

“Vorik is turning into a vampire!” I said in a rush. Vorik folded his hands in front of his face and fixed me with a Vulcan’s closest approximation to a glare. I smiled and nudged his boot under the table with my own. He didn’t respond.

Harry, however, did. He lowered his spoon from his face, looking stricken, and fixed me with a very serious look. “Giana! We…we don’t say things like that around here…”

What?

My eyes widened as I realized what he was trying to say. “Oh! No! Just ‘cause the- skin and th-the pointy— No, nonononono. We were playing Skyrim together the other day and he was scratched by a vampire’s claws so I’ve been teasing him, that’s all! It’s not—no!”

Finally, Vorik looked satisfied and returned my kick under the table. Then it was my turn to glare at him.

“Oh. Good,” Harry sighed, clearly relieved he was spared a lesson in microaggressions, “I was going to say… I’d be surprised if that’s what it was coming from you.”

I ate my spaghetti in silence, hoping Vorik never thought that’s what I ever meant. Maybe I was laying it on a bit too thick, bringing up his vampire-hood every so often over the last couple of days. I really did just think I was being funny, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I was just being a huge asshole.

“So you were hit by a vampire, huh?” Tom asked, bringing the conversation back. “Harry and I cleared out a den by Morthal for the Thaneship not too long ago. Harry wants to build the house.”

“I just think it’ll be better than all the pre-built ones!”

“Anyway, he had to chug two Potions of Cure Disease. He caught vampirism one right after the other.” Tom laughed and wolfed down the last of his steamed vegetables. “You end up bleeding?”

Vorik arched an eyebrow and glanced at me before warily answering, “Yes.”

Tom pulled an apologetic face. “Mmm, yup. You’re a vampire now.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

“But I am Vulcan,” Vorik said over me, “How can I become a vampire from Human folklore?”

Tom shrugged. “It’s all in the coding. It’s not that you’ll become human or anything, it’s just that the aspects of vampirism will be overlaid onto your Skyrim avatar and all the buffs and debuffs will apply. Think of it like a…a filter. A vampire filter.”

“See, no that’s what I was talking about; it had a purpose. Tom had to reinterpret the original game. Making you appear to bleed was probably just the indication that you caught something, otherwise, you’d never know because we don’t really have a convenient way to check our status. And you said it was probably nothing. Everything has a reason.”

Tom nodded.

I slurped the rest of my spagetti from the bowl and pushed it aside. “You ready to go back and get cured?” I asked Vorik. I wanted to get him alone again, maybe to keep talking to him about the virus or maybe make sure he didn’t think I was being rude. But I couldn’t keep one more from coming out. “The sooner you’re cured, the sooner the UV lights will stop burning your skin.”

“Will your vampire jokes cease when I am cured?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, probably.”

“Then absolutely.”

                                                              ***

The holodeck hummed to life and the blank room started being filled with materializing objects. Vorik fidgeted with his sleeve and sure enough, once the front room of our Riften house came into focus, the bandage seeping dark green blood reappeared as well. Hopefully taking care of the vampirism would take care of the uncanny wound that was not really a wound as well.

“First thing’s first. Let’s find an apothecar—eee!” As soon as he looked at me, I recoiled back. “Vorik…your eyes…”

He barely looked like himself in the torchlight. His face was sunken and shadowed and his dark eyes had been nearly swallowed by blackness from the irises out through the whites of his eyes. Black vein-like lines spread from his sunken sockets like a sickness, reaching towards his cheekbones in a spiderweb of tendrils. I could see now how vampires could be considered completely terrifying.

“Holy shit, dude.” I reached up and grazed the side of his face with fingertips, still looking in wonder at the vampiric effects that Tom and Harry had engineered. With a horrified realization it hit me that, yes, this is what a monstrous vampire should look like to an everyday person and I understood all the horror stories.

Vorik stiffened slightly as the pads of my fingers swept his temple and with a jolt in my stomach, I realized what I was doing and pulled my hand away.

“Do… Do you feel different? You look way different. How did I not notice this before??”

“It was dark the last time we played,” Vorik answered. He strode to the washbasin and peered into the spotted mirror above it. He prodded his skin and turned his head from side to side, admiring the reflection. “The detail is rather astounding, and the effect is…unsettling.”

“You can say that again. I very suddenly don’t want to be a vampire anymore myself.”

“I do not feel different,” Vorik continued as though he were observing the results of a particularly interesting experiment. “Perhaps because the sickness hasn’t been given time to spread?”

“Or just because you aren’t in the sun yet.”

“Fascinating.”

‘Fascinating’ though it might have been, I really wanted to get him taken care of. Though I didn’t remember Skyrim vampires looking like this (so maybe the blackness around his eyes wouldn’t stay) he was starting to creep me out just being in the same room. The effect it had on me when it wasn’t just pixels, when it was suddenly someone I knew, didn’t sit right in my brain. Not to mention that I would probably be really disturbed if I had to watch him feed off NPCs to keep his powers up.

Speaking of, I wondered if this meant that joining The Companions was out of the question for me now. If vampires looked this strange, imagine what if would feel like to be a werewolf. I shivered at the thought of my skin splitting and actually sprouting hair all over my body.

Nasty.

“Sooo…” I began in a nonchalant voice, wandering to the table and picking up an apple from a wooden bowl. “Is there something you wanna say to me, maybe?”

Vorik turned the full force of his unnerving face on me and I had to physically stop myself from recoiling by clutching the back of a chair.

He sighed. “Yes, yes. I admit it. You were right. I am a vampire.”

For the first time, I noticed as he spoke that the teeth that would have been his canines if he were a primate were far longer and sharper than they had been before. “Oh shit, you’re growing fangs too, dog. Yeah, let’s get you fixed up before you start thirsting for my blood.”

His expression as I darted out the door told me that, at this moment, he didn’t need to thirst after my blood in order to want to rip my head off.

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

If anyone actually made it all the way down here, gosh, I love you and you’re great and I appreciate you and I hope you enjoyed my nonsense.

Cake to the Hood

A/n - Happy Birthday Jason Todd!

Warning: Swearing

—

“Okay, what the hell was that for?” Jason demands, voice going from electronic to his familiar Gothamnite drawl as fingers catch on the latch and pull the hood off. He had just cleaned it yesterday damnit, a whole damn hour getting rid of boot marks and muck off the surface and then dickface throws a fuckin’ cake at it! He was so dead once Jason wiped the white frosting off it.

Dick merely cackles, falling through Jason’s window like a bloody pretzel and crashing into Jason’s ankles. He’s tempted to stomp on his head but then he’d have to clean his boots too and he isn’t about to force more labour onto himself even if it was technically Dick’s fault.

Only when he manages to stop laughing like a hyena and slapping cream carpeted floor like a seal, does Dick finally answer. The bastard. “Guess!” He chirps, rolling onto his back so he can successfully pull off the domino still attached to his cheek bones.

Jason sends him a scowl, dropping the cake ridden hood at his brothers face and lips twitching down further when the bastard merely catches it. Dick sends him a grin, hugging the helmet to his chest like some form of a teddy bear, smearing frothy icing on biceps. The fucker was way too cheerful for a black eye and a bruising cheek. Vaguely he wonders if he could get away with giving the bastard matching panda eyes. Now that would be good payback.

He’s done many things to deserve revenge, but a cake being thrown at him? That was just plain weird. He’s broken bones, teased the younger brats mercilessly. He’s also ate all of Dick’s cereal out of pure spite yesterday. Even the lucky charms. Jason hates lucky charms. He doesn’t think Dick knows that just yet though. “Payback for eating your freakishly large cereal collection.”

Dick goes eerily still and Jason is most probably going to die, again, but it was worth it for his reaction. Slowly Dick stretches to a stand, no longer hugging the hood and appearing to hold it as a potentially flying projectile instead. Ocean blue eyes glare into forest green and Jason genuinely feels a stab of fear flow through his veins.

“Your lucky today is special. Really lucky.” If this is how Nightwing becomes a villain Jason wants credit.

He blinks as Dick does a 180 with a shake of his head and is suddenly grinning, tossing him back his hood. He’ll need to vacuum later; the sprinkles have gotten everywhere. He huffs, snatches the oiled rag hanging by the window. It was a handy place to keep it, surprisingly.

“So ya throw a perfectly edible cake at my helmet that I could’ve eaten? Ya fuckin’ serious right now? Could’ve just told me to take it off, at least I’d actually get ta fuckin’ eat it then.” Jason grumbles, scrubbing at the frosting stuck in the little nooks of the scratches and the camouflaged kinks on the side. “What’s so special that you had to throw a fuckin’ cake at me in three in the morning’ anyway? Jesus bigwing.”

With as much of the cake scraped off as possible, he decides chucking the oil ridden rag at the idiot in front of him is the next best action. Again, infuriatingly, Dick catches it with a small grin that was slightly bemused. What wasn’t Jason getting now?

“Really?” Dick asks, looking fondly exasperated. Gross. Jason gives him a look and Dickface looks absolutely delighted. Jason’s too late to abort the mission. “Oh my god, you’re just like Babybird!” He exclaims, squealing and flapping his arms up and down. Jason blinks.

“And how am I like that caffeine addict exactly?” Jason demands, gently laying his hood on the coffee table beside his couch. It’s the top floor. No one would see.

“Timmy always forgets his birthdays.” Dick teases and Jason blinks. That’s not what he was expecting.

“It is not my birthday.” Jason states simply.

Dick shakes his head, biting his bottom lip with his teeth to supress the obnoxious grin. “It’s definitely your birthday.”

“Give me a calendar.” Jason demands, he’s tired and he smells like cake and smoke. He needs a shower. He just needs to prove the fucker wrong and he can finally go get some well needed asleep.

Dick happily complies, messing with his gauntlet. A second later and a blue holographic screen lights up the tiny apartment. Hadn’t they switched the lights on? Considering they were still two centimetres from the open window pumping chemical fumes into his tiny safehouse, Jason would take that as a no.

“It’s not and I will prove it to you,” Jason mumbles, eyeing the screen. He blinks. “Oh. Never mind. Happy Birthday to me.”

A wheeze of air escapes his older brothers’ lips, stomach tensing with strain before bubbles of laughter tears through the air. Jason’s stomach coils with warmth before ice carves its way through his veins. With a flick, the lights are on. Dick and Jason hadn’t moved though, someone was in his house. Fuck he was getting rusty. A warm palm cups the back of his neck, puffs of air brushing against a brown jacket as warm laughter and chatter arises from behind them. He resists rolling his eyes, instead hip bumping the laughing form away to turn and greet his guests. A head is quickly dug its way between his shoulder blades as Dick absolutely fails to get himself together.

Damian is sitting on the back of the lime green couch, a frown on his lips but the furrowed brow crinkled in amusement gives him away. Stephanie is cackling, her shoulders shaking in mirth, white pearly teeth stained orange with the cheezles between her lips. Barbara’s emerald eyes catch on his forest green ones, a smile pulling at glossed lips while pulling a striped plastic bag onto her lap. Cass makes the first move though, gracefully leveling herself to her feet from the crisscrossed form on the carpet, a warm arm wrapping around his waist as another pushes their older brother away. Soft lips press against his cheek, completely ignoring the stubble lingering there from yesterdays’ shave. Jason rakes his hand through the charcoal hair, belly rumbling with a chuckle or two as she leans into the touch.

“Did the stakeout mess with your head that much?” Tim asks and Jason scowls at the boy nestled on his beanbag, Alfred’s cotton stitched blanket woven over bony shoulders. How hadn’t he heard the babybird? Beanbags are far from quiet after all. If anyone asks, he blames the non-existent cake crammed in his ears.

“Don’t be mean to the birthday boy!” Dick butts in, expertly dodging around Cass’ frame to snap on a party hat on Jason’s head. At least it isn’t black, he decides as the neon green seems to glow in the dim lighting. Tim rolls his eyes, lips pulling up with that rare small smile of his. Jason doesn’t smile back, but it’s a close thing.

“Yeah,” Jason puffs out his chest with a smirk, “don’t mess with the birthday boy.”

Cassandra squeezes his waist as Damian groans and rolls his eyes. The boy lets gravity take him, falling forward onto the cushions below, limbs bouncing with the impact. Robins, dramatic little birds. Jason would know. Stephanie snickers, stuffing one more sugar coated junk into her mouth before full on prancing the one metre to poke and prod at the boy.

“I hate you.” Tim decides, no heat behind his words. Jason detangles himself from Cass hug, placing a chaste kiss to her forehead before striding over to plonk himself onto the boy, grinning with his teeth at the distressed noise the boy manages to squeak out in a gasping breath. Jason merely smirks as fingers dig into his jacket, palms pushing against back muscles. They both now if Tim really didn’t want to be sat on, he wouldn’t be.

Ding.

Dick pauses messing about with placing plastic cups and parcels on the coffee table, straitening up with a grin. Jason watches bemused, wiggling to get comfortable on Tim’s stomach as Dick yanks the door open, basically throwing Duke inside. Alfred and Bruce stride in much more gracefully, a small smile on both of their lips.

“Happy birthday, Master Jason.” Alfred says, two bulging plastic bags placed gently by Barbara’s feet near the coffee table. Jason ducks, smiling to himself at the mans fond expression. Alfred simply smiles at the top of his head and Jason feels no guilt wiggling forcefully down onto the laughing boy underneath him. It was his birthday and yet these shits were taking the micky out of him. The bastards, Jason thinks fondly. A cool hand pats his cheek and Jason stops his withering, pausing to grin at his grandfather and to accept the kiss to his hairline.

Bruce pats Alfred’s shoulder in passing, raising a brow at Tim’s undignified squawk as Jason digs an elbow to his side. He doesn’t say anything though, a smile teasing at his lips. Jason hears Bruce’s knees crack before seeing the older man kneeling. A hand brushes through his locks, blunt nails scratching at his scalp.

“Happy birthday, chum.” Bruce murmurs and his voice is so soft, so fond that Jason doesn’t really know what to do. When all else fails diversion is the next best step. He is not dealing with mushy feelings right now.

“Look, all of this is nice and all but if anyone throws a perfectly edible cake at me again, I will become a cannibal so I can eat something.”

Spider-Man: Far From Home Thoughts Part 3 a.k.a. Iron Man Junior: Far From Spider-Man

This will be the final part of this essay series and here I’m going to go through how this film holds up as an adaptation of the source material.

Shockingly the answer will be that it’s fucking awful.

I’ve already made what must be over a dozen posts about how terrible Far From Home is as an adaptation and representation of Spider-Man but screw it let’s go over it more!

Before I start to rant let me qualify something.

When you are adapting a character as famous, iconic and beloved as Spider-Man you don’t have to be a 1:1 translation of the source material. But you 100% do have to respect the spirit of the source material as much as practicality will allow. You have to respect the essential ideas, original intention and core themes and concepts underpinning the character and his world.

That is the root of my objections in this post and so many others.

Homecoming and Far From Home misunderstand Spider-Man on a fundamental level. Or worse they do understand him and actively chose to ignore what he’s about, what he represents.

He’s all about great power and great responsibility within the context of being a relatively relatable Average Joe.

This isn’t making him an everyman the way Bilbo Baggins or Luke Skywalker are. For Spider-Man he has to much more accurately reflect the average person and the world the average person lives in. He has to live in a real city, he has to worry about bills, laundry, studies, getting a job, holding a job, maintaining friendships and romantic relationships. He just has to be Spider-Man ON TOP of that and that must clash with his normal life. Being Spider-Man is one more additional responsibility he must juggle.

Before I rip this film to shreds for so aggressively NOT doing that let me get a few scant positives out of the way.

First of all the action scenes were not just generally improved from Homecoming, but honestly felt more like Spider-Man. I could easily see the way Peter and Mysterio attacked, defended, countered, etc, being something from the comics. Particular praise must go to the Berlin action sequence.

For many years Spider-Man fans have understandably claimed that Mysterio would be the perfect villain for the big screen due to his skill set being about generating great visuals. And we were right because we get not just a classic Mysterio action sequence in Berlin but outright one of the all time best ones from any version of Spider-Man. The film even drops us some appreciated fan service, firstly by putting Peter in his red and blue costume so it feels like the comic come to life and secondly via the giant Mysterio hand ripped straight out of ASM #66-67. The snow globe sequence in particular, if it wasn’t from a comic (and off the top of my head I can’t recall it being so) was simply inspired.

Equally Mysterio’s look was a different yet ultimately brilliant realization of the comic book. To an extent Mysterio is also a spiritually faithful rendition of the comic book character. In the comics he was a special effects master, stuntman and failed actor who craved fame and was frustrated by the lack of recognition he got.

In the movie he created highly realistic holographic technology, was frustrated by it’s small scale use, the lack of recognition he got for it and with a whole crew of helpers fabricated his Mysterio identity in the hopes of becoming the most famous superhero in the world, although he was himself rarely in the costume.

Traditionally Mysterio is a practical effects guy and this makes the most sense given how he physically fights Spider-Man, but the updating of that to holographic technology is fine and dandy because CGI has, for better or worse, supplanted practical effects. Even in the 1994 cartoon when that wasn’t the case the showmakers gave Mysterio holographic tech.

Him not being a stuntman is more of a mixed bag. On the one hand being a stuntman is what enables him to sort of fight Spider-Man himself, but on the other hand outside of his debut Mysterio’s usually been more effective when not physically fighting people but rather tricking them and manipulating them. So if you are focussing more on that aspect of the character dropping the stuntman angle is fine.

In fact one of the two things (and we will talk more about the other later) which does spiritually undermine this version of Mysterio is his lack of explicit connection to Hollywood. However he is still an actor just not a professional actor in the film or TV industry. And a great actor at that as he is so capable of fooling everyone.

We might also argue that having a crew of helpers undermined Mysterio’s independence and intelligence, but I think it works for the movie fro 2 reasons. First of all in a movie for general audiences suspension of disbelief doesn’t stretch as far so savant characters are less acceptable. Mysterio is 100% a savant. He’s a skilled actor, stuntman, manipulator and technician who knows holographic technology, robotics and all manner of things like that. In the movies you could maybe buy someone having a grasp of the purely technical side of things, but even Tony Stark wasn’t an expert on biology or chemistry, maybe he knew enough to get by but remember he needed to read up on stuff in Avengers 2012.

By giving Mysterio a group supporting him it makes it more believable that this villain is capable of all these things. More poignantly, and you can see this especially when they were ‘rehearsing’ for the London attack, it renders Beck something of a director, thus subtextually giving him yet more connection to the world of film. Again it’s just a shame this was not more explicit and instead his abilities and motives stem from...well we will get there.

On a final note Mysterio can in truth be one of the creepier Spider-Man villains and you don’t really get that vibe outside of the Berlin fight scene (and even then only a little bit). I think that’s fine as he was still manipulative which is one of Mysterio’s better skills in the comics.

So there is a lot this version of Mysterio has going for him, he’s faithful in the idea but not in certain details. Unfortunately those details sink this take.

Other positives include the set up of Chameleon as the stoic and silent agent Dmitri within SHIELD. This will not only pay off in MCU Spider-Man 3 but will is also a great example of irony and foreshadowing. Chameleon was introduced as a saboteur and enemy agent so him being a mole within SHIELD lends itself well to his character and the fact that he is an imposter amidst imposters (the Skrulls) is deliciously ironic.

Also this movie gave us the best version of Ned and Betty’s relationship ever because no one died or got cheated on. Finally I liked Aunt May running a homeless shelter. It gives her something to do and is a very fitting role for her.

I want to go back to Mysterio for a moment though as this isn’t really a positive or a negative of his character.

He’s a very tricky character to adapt. In his debut he is pretends to be a powerful new superhero who wants to bring down Spider-Man whom he’s obviously framed.

In a movie I can understand how framing Spider-Man might not sustain a 2+ hour movie.* However the bigger question to ask is whether or not you bother with having Mysterio framed as a hero or not.

In the 90s it was easier as Spider-Man and his mythos wasn’t so prevalent so people simply know a lot of stuff via osmosis, and in the Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon the showmakers simply present him as a criminal off the bat.

If you do go with him pretending to be a hero it’s tricky to pull off without feeling like you are going through the motions.

All of which is me saying the movie is faithful to the comics in presenting Mysterio as initially pretending t be a hero but I don’t know how good of an idea that is. I don’t know anyone who walked into the movie not knowing he was the bad guy.

That’s about it for positives.

So...FUCK THIS MOVIE!

Once again in this Spider-Man  movie everything revolves around Iron Man.

I’ve written in posts past how this undermines Spider-Man’s agency simply as a character in a movie but as far as adaptations go this is beyond insulting.

Spider-Man was in part created to be an independent superhero. In part created to literally NOT have the kind of relationship he has with Iron Man in this movie.

I cannot describe how much of a fundamental misunderstanding of Spider-Man’s character it is to have Iron Man be utterly integral to who everything about him.

He’s so goddam integral that Peter’s alleged character arc in this movie is about becoming him (in the most obnoxious of ways too, see Part 2) and he is the wellspring from which 99% of this movie springs from even though he’s fucking dead. I mean my god the plot device everyone is after is Tony Stark’s glasses!

Spider-Man doesn’t get to be his own man even when Iron Man is literally not alive!

Shit even Mysterio is motivated and built to be a dark reflection of Iron Man. And this kills his character not just because it denies him independence because it makes his ambitions entirely too big scale to work as a Spider-Man villain. His motivation is to gain access to Tony’s magic glasses. At least Vulture with a tweak could have worked as a regular Spider-Man villain. He had the working class down to Earth and relatable ambitions and lifestyle down. Mysterio is doing everything to both spite Tony and become him.

Jesus, even Iron Man’s dead weight and most irrelevant supporting character Happy Hogan is not just in this movie but plot relevant...for the second movie in a row! He’s even dating Spider-Man’ aunt. At this point given how she’s never even mentioned him is Uncle Ben even dead in this universe or did he just run off with a somehow even sexier 50 year old?

Oh...and let’s talk about Uncle Ben, whom I was naive enough to think was going to be referenced when that gravestone appeared but noooooope, fucking Iron Man again.

From Endgame onwards disgusting posts and articles were written about how Iron Man’s death now truly makes him MCU’s Uncle Ben. Because you see he was Peter’s father figure and he died...so that’s the same thing.  Nevermind that he didn’t die because Peter was inactive and selfish, or the fact that his death didn’t widow his aunt, or anything like that. Shit Peter doesn’t even seem that upset about it beyond 1 or 2 scenes. And yet that’s one or two scenes more than we’ve ever seen Uncle Ben get referenced. Think about that we’ve seen Iron Man mourned more than Uncle Ben in a SPIDER-MAN movie!

We see that more than we see Aunt May even. Aunt May is just there in the MCU movies which is not just a waste of Tomei as a talented actress but it is again insulting as an adaptation. Even in Spider-Man 3 and ASM2 she had more to do and delivered a good scene or two. In these movies she’s eye candy and nothing more. She is more relevant as a punch line about how men are attracted to her than as her own character.

And now that we are on the subject of supporting characters, I talk about this more in other posts, but Michelle is so bad. The romance comes out of nowhere there is no justification given for their respective feelings for one another and to say she’s not Mary Jane would be redundant.

She fails to be anything like Mary Jane on any level beyond her nickname. This is not okay for several reasons. Among them is the fact that the Spider-man movies have had a problematic habit of treating the love interests as interchangeable characters as opposed to being their own distinct characters. Worse we’re screwing up Mary Jane not only a second time on film but worse than before. This is the Lois Lane of the Spider-Man mythos, she’s an iconic beloved character integral to the over all story of Spider-Man. And we’re treating her as so insignificant as to able to present an OC with her initials and claim that’s good enough.

As for the other supporting characters they continue to be broken. Like how the fuck did Betty Brant wind up the relatively most faithful character? Ned is just a repurposed Ganke except now they’re writing him as a lame Disney Channel sidekick character so he’s not even got the depth of comic book Ganke and Flash...oh Flash. He’s not just irrelevant to the movie, he’s not even really a bully in this film. He’s just a preppy docuchebag no one takes seriously and in fact gets treated as the butt monkey on more than one occasion. The only redeemable moments for his character were when he sang Spider-Man’s praises and was stoked that Spidey follows his social media channel.

All the characters feel like shallow attempts to make Spider-Man ‘about youth’ which as I’ve said countless times in the past, he provably isn’t about and never was. But this film not only continues to lean on that misinterpretation but lean harder on it. Like the premise of this movie is literally about Spider-Man trying to enjoy his summer vacation and school field trip.

But the film fucks up Spider-Man’s defining values in so many other ways.

Of course there is the blip.

People were so hype for Spider-Man to be in the MCU but hindsight is painful because that fact just hurt Spider-Man movies on a fundamental level.

In Marvel comics, we never know for sure if any of Spider-Man’s friends or family died in the Infinity Gauntlet and no one remembered it happening anyway. It also didn’t happen in a Spider-Man story so it could be safely ignored as is the nature of a shared universe.

But in the movies Far From Home acting as MCU Chapter 23 creates an ongoing problem for these Spider-Man movies. The fact that Spider-Man and everyone he knows died and came back but also there were some people who are five years older than him now creates a fundamental dissonance undermining the more grounded, relatable angle of his character. The only solution of which is to simply wilfully ignore the elephant in the room that represents that dissonance. In short these Spider-Man movies would’ve been better off not being connected to the MCU or at least being on it’s fringes.

This applies to even the post credits scene of the movie as now in our movies that are supposed to be about the grounded and relatable hero we have fucking aliens! And they were there the whole time. The movie even gleefully plants its flag in rejection of the idea of having a more grounded Spider-Man by saying Spider-Man ISN’T a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man by virtue of having gone to space. I was okay with that in Infinity War as that was not a Spider-Man movie but by actively rejecting that idea in this movie it showcases how the film makers treat Spider-Man as a more generic hero who can be anything and everything...and therefore nothing. There are no definitions to the type of things he will get involved with.

You might counter outside of the opening school scenes and post-credit sequence the alien involvement isn’t that much of a problem because all the interdimensional and alien stuff wasn’t real in the movie.

But that leads us to the next problem. Spider-Man as a globetrotting super spy agent. Again...this is not Spider-Man. Spider-Man is more domestic, more down to Earth and sans space travel there is nothing less grounded and down to Earth that globetrotting and secret agents. There is a reason James Bond is indulgent escapism!

Worse the spy stuff essentially hijacks the movie, it’s not even something that flows out from Peter’s character or world, it comes out of nowhere to appropriate his story.

Speaking of which...SHIELD have to hijack Spider-Man because...Spider-Man doesn’t want to get involved...

...what?...

I will repeat that.

Spider-Man, the character defined by a low level burglar he chose not to stop who then killed his uncle thus teaching him that having super powers gives him a responsibility to use it to help others...chooses to not help out against giant elemental monsters threatening all life on Earth...because he wants to enjoy his vacation...

...words simply cannot do justice to how beyond broken that is as an interpretation of Spider-Man.

This isn’t even a case of he quits because being a hero has taken such a toll on him and he’s had a wobble.

This is him still deciding to be Spider-Man but actively tries to avoid it because he wants to have fun for an extended period of time. MAYBE that’s okay. MAYBE him deciding to not take his suit along on vacation could be justified and in character.

But when presented the means to be Spider-Man and a major crisis that requires his help (it isn’t like there is a small group of equally or more powerful heroes to cover for him) for him to simply reject it, to have to be forced into helping and when he reluctantly does only doing the bare minimum until he realizes people he cares about are in danger...no.

Just no, whoever was responsible for that characterization you should not be allowed to write for Spider-Man.

It’s not even consistent with Homecoming’s already misinterpreted version of Peter Parker. In Homecoming Peter was screwed up because his intervention made everything worse near 100% of the time but even that’s better than presenting Peter as choosing to not intervene at all for purely selfish and unsympathetic reasons. And to rub it in our faces when he does choose to intervene he does it with more high tech Stark crap. No him making the suit himself doesn’t make it okay, Spider-Man shouldn’t be using technology from other people like that nor consistently having access to such high-tech. It goes against the idea of him being independent and of being grounded.

The Stark tech crap is also relevant to what is a major contender for the single worst scene of any Spider-Man film to date. The drone strike on a bus.

In this movie about the superhero who’s supposed to be relatable and like us, Joe Average, we have a scene where he uses a pair of high tech bequeathed to him by his dead superhero father figure accidentally to launch an orbital drone strike on a fellow school student on his bus because he’s about to ruin his chances with hooking up with a girl. Then he has to engage in wacky hijinks to save the kid and everyone else.

Do I need to say more about that scene? To call it jumping a shark would be an insult to other shark jumping moments. It shatters the verisimilitude of the movie maybe even more than the blip.

Let’s switch back to Peter’s personality in this movie. I’ve already talked a lot about it in prior posts but I do have two more things to point out.

The first of these is that we have less quips than in prior Spider-Man movies. And I don’t just mean the most recent ones I mean of any of the movies going back to 2002. And by less I mean 0. Spider-Man NEVER quips or jokes in this movie. Ever. It’s like they’ve grown to understand Spider-Man even less than in the last movie!

The second and more significant is how stupid Peter is when it comes to his secret identity. In the comics Spider-Man is famously secretive about his identity, to the point where it’s almost paranoid.

Here though he isn’t concerned about SHIELD or random SHEILD agents knowing who he is, or Mysterio, or everyone in a bar or anyone looking at the bridge in London where he unmaskes makes out (awkwardly) with Michelle.

The movie pretends like it cares about this aspect of his character by having Peter point out if he goes out as Spider-Man abroad people will deduce it’s him.

Not only is this an attempt by him to weasel out of hero duties but it’s moot because Betty immediately figures it out (leading to the cringe Night Monkey gag which doesn’t even make sense since monkeys don’t crawl on walls or shoot webs!), Michelle figures it out and Peter was cavalier with his identity before and after that scene.

All culminating in just everyone knowing his identity which like in the comics fundamentally fucks up the idea of him as the everyman even more. Forget space aliens and spy shit now he’s a celebrity. Celebrities are the exact opposite of the everyman, that’s why they’re friggin celebrities!

Big take away from this movie as an adaptation?

It was fucking insulting for it to have been dedicated to Lee and Ditko.

Fuck this movie. Fuck this direction for Spider-Man. Fuck Marvel for ruining Spider-Man again.

*That being said I did once hear a brilliant pitch for Spider-Man 4 wherein Mysterio frames Spider-Man and the police call in aid from Kraven the Hunter to catch him. 

The Adventure of the Dead Duke

Part 6 of Generations

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Note: Please pardon this slight detour into a holographic recreation of 19th century London, where our noble heroes will solve a most perplexing mystery. (This chapter also features conversations between Spock and Data, and Kirk and La Forge, so it’s not entirely fluff.)

Jim struggled with his waistcoat. At least the new Starfleet uniforms were simple. Under all these layers, he didn’t know how he was going to manage to walk around the holodeck without burning up, let alone chase down some holographic criminal. But the costumes were impressive, he would give them that.

He drew out a large circular watch from his breast pocket and flipped it open like a communicator. “We should go. We don’t want to be late for the game.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at Jim. He looked quite striking. He wore his heavy British overcoat like a Vulcan robe; long and flowing. Underneath was a black waistcoat that accentuated his sturdy figure, and a white undershirt for contrast. His stern expression - concealing bemusement - completed the image.

Jim couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“We are fortunate that the male corset had fallen out of fashion by the late 19th century,” Spock remarked.

Jim just gave him a look and shrugged on his own overcoat.

Before they stepped out the door, Spock gave Jim a final once-over. “You make a highly respectable Dr. Watson.”

“You don’t make a bad looking Sherlock Holmes, yourself.”

With Spock’s permission, Jim gave him a quick peck on the lips. Their fingers brushed together, sending a rush of emotion through the bond to accompany the gentle kiss.

When they drew apart, Spock said, “I advise that you exercise caution in the holodeck. Such behavior would have been considered scandalous.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jim assured him with a wry smile.

Jim gestured for Spock to lead the way out into the corridor.

Kirk and Spock arrived at the holodeck to find that the interior had already been transformed into a cluttered, but cozy living room, right out of the past, with wooden furniture and scattered papers. The windows on the far side of the room looked out on a smoggy 19th century London street.

Data and La Forge had claimed the chairs in front of the fireplace. Data was dressed in the classic deer-stalker hat and Inverness cape, casually bowing at a replicated violin as though it was the most natural thing in the world - he played beautifully. La Forge had opted for what seemed to be the standard waistcoat. He wasn’t wearing an overcoat, which Kirk took as sufficient reason to leave his on a peg by the door as he entered.

Without glancing up at the new arrivals, Data said, “Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, welcome to 221B Baker Street.”

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”

Suddenly, they heard someone knocking at a door behind them.

Kirk turned to find that the entrance to the holodeck had been replaced by another wall, in the center of which was the front door to the apartment. He hastily stepped aside and let Spock answer the door. A distressed young man, presumably well dressed for the period, with long, wavy blond hair, hurried inside.

The young man froze as he realized just how many people were present. “I’m looking for Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he explained, glancing between all the possible candidates.

At last, Data put aside his violin and faced his visitor. “You are the son of a duke, recently deceased, here to ask about his murder. You suspect a member of your household.”

The young man stood open-mouthed at the declaration. “How- how do you know that?”

“Your attire is only befitting of someone of such a rank, but no higher, that you are in mourning is obvious by your black suit, and your suspicion is why you are here,” Data rattled off as though he were taking readings in engineering.

“Why, that is remarkable!” the young man exclaimed. “You have it exactly right!”

“Why don’t you have a seat and tell us about it?” Kirk suggested, gesturing toward the empty couch.

The young man seemed startled by the interjection. “O-Of course.” But he hesitated to sit down. “I mean no disrespect, gentlemen” - he glanced back at Kirk and Spock - “but this is a very delicate matter. I understand that to enlist the services of Mr. Holmes is to also call upon Dr. Watson” - he nodded at La Forge - “but I would prefer as few people to know as possible.”

“Certainly,” Spock said, reassuring in his unemotional confidence. “No word of your troubles will leave the present company. I am, in a manner of speaking, an older brother to Sherlock Holmes” - he gestured at Data - “with some powers of deduction of my own. This is my own Dr. Watson.” He motioned toward Kirk, who smiled at the young man in greeting.

“My apologies, Mr. Holmes,” the young man said to Spock. “If you are anything like your renown brother, then perhaps the more the better.”

His concerns assuaged, the young man sat down on the couch and began his tale propper, “My name is Harry Daniels. My father, the duke, died some weeks ago, passing his title on to my uncle, Claud. Just two days ago, he announced his engagement to my mother, Gertrude-”

Data cut him off, “You believe it was your uncle who murdered your father.”

Mr. Daniels hesitated. “I suspect, but I do not know. In short, I wish for you, Mr. Holmes” - he glanced between Data and Spock - “to prove whether my uncle is guilty or innocent.”

“Your uncle is innocent,” Data declared.

“How do you know that?” La Forge demanded. “I made sure this wasn’t just another Sherlock Holmes case!”

“I am aware,” Data said. “The case would be too simple if it was as Mr. Daniels suggests.”

Mr. Daniels made to protest.

Before he could get out a word, Data leaped to his feet and continued, “But we will take your case and uncover who it was that did murder your father.” He turned to La Forge - “Come along, Watson, we have a mystery to solve!”

The five of them stepped outside the flat and found themselves, not on a bustling London street, but on the open British moor. Before them loomed an ancient castle, surrounded for miles in all directions by desolate rolling hills beneath a cloudy grey sky. There was a chill in the air, enough to make Kirk regret leaving his overcoat behind.

Kirk frantically glanced around in an attempt to get his bearings - the others seemed to take it all in stride and quickly made their way to castle.

“We can go back and take the train if you want,” La Forge said, waiting behind with Kirk, “but this way is faster.”

Kirk shook his head. “It just takes a little getting used to. Now I think I understand how Bones feels about the transporter.” He felt Spock’s amusement in response.

As they hurried to catch up to Spock, Data, and Mr. Daniels, Kirk remarked, “This is quite the illusion.”

La Forge grinned. “Most of it’s just being displayed on the walls. The holodeck can do a lot more elaborate things than this. Take Sherlock Holmes’s apartment; everything in that room was a real replicated object.”

Kirk nodded. But even though that was the greater technical feat, the open moor was still more impressive. He almost forgot he was on a starship in outer space, not on the surface of a planet.

“My uncle is out, so you can see anything you like,” Mr. Daniels was saying as Kirk and La Forge met the others by the door.

The door swung open and they were greeted by a prim and proper butler.

“This is Prescott,” Mr. Daniels said. “His family has served the duchy for generations.”

Prescott helped Mr. Daniels out of his overcoat. He held out a hand for Spock’s coat and Data’s cape as well, but they both declined, so the butler retreated into the hall.

“Take us to the scene of the crime,” Data instructed.

Mr. Daniels led the way up the grand staircase to the duke’s room. It was ornately furnished, with an enormous bed that looked even softer than the ones on the Farragut. Data stepped inside and scanned the room from the center, no doubt making calculations at an inhuman pace. Meanwhile, Spock stood off to the side, watching Data and Mr. Daniels as much as examining the room itself. To do things properly he would have needed a tricorder, but he would make do without one.

Abruptly, Data strode over to the bed to examine a rope hanging down from the ceiling beside it. “This is how your father met his death,” he declared, pulling at the rope for emphasis.

“A bell pull?” Mr. Daniels asked, utterly confused.

“No. It appears to be a bell pull, but in fact it just goes up to that ventilator that leads into the other room, through which an ill-intentioned individual could direct a snake to slither down the rope and attack whoever is asleep in the bed.”

The others gathered around and sure enough, the end of the rope was fastened inside a gap in the wall that led into the neighboring room.

“You think my father was poisoned by a snake?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Yes. What room does that ventilator lead into?”

Mr. Daniels led them all out of the duke’s room, to find that the adjacent room was nothing more than a broom cupboard.

“Anyone could have gone in there,” Mr. Daniels said with some disappointment.

“Unless everyone in your household keeps snakes, we have narrowed the possible suspects down considerably,” Spock said, but Kirk could feel some lingering doubt. He turned to Kirk - “Captain, your time may be better spent interviewing the members of the household.”

“That’s doctor to you,” Kirk corrected him with a grin.

“You forget that Dr. Watson was a military man” - Spock attempted to cover up his mistake.

Kirk just gave Spock a skeptical look and gestured for La Forge to follow him out of the room. “Let’s go.”

La Forge glanced at Data who agreed - “The members of the household may be able to shine some light on this mystery.”

“I’ll ring for Prescott,” Mr. Daniels said.

The butler soon arrived to lead Kirk and La Forge around the house on their own investigation. Meanwhile, Mr. Daniels led Spock and Data into his own room.

Data gave the room one sweeping glance and said, “Next.”

From there, they went on to the chamber of the woman of the house.

While Data scanned the room, Spock remarked, “Three years and seven days ago, you asked if I have missed my humanity. The answer that I gave you was incomplete. I have not missed my humanity because I never truly abandoned it.”

Data turned to face him, the mystery seemingly forgotten. “Then why do you live as a Vulcan?”

“Because I am a Vulcan and I was raised as a Vulcan, but I consider Vulcan philosophy to merely be the beginning. It needs flexibility, which I have found to be a very human trait.”

“I have also found flexibility to be a very human trait,” Data acknowledged.

He seemed to consider Spock’s words for a little longer before crossing the room to examine a crate leaning against the wall.

Finally, Data stood and declared, “On to the next.”

As they made their way through the hall, Data said, “I recently installed a chip that enables me to experience human emotions. They are more difficult to manage than I expected.”

Spock nodded. “Many Vulcans have spent their entire lives seeking to be free of the burden of emotion. I was fortunate enough to realize the futility of my goal before I attained it.”

“You attempted to ‘free yourself’ of all emotion? Why?”

“At the time, I thought it was the better way.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I experienced the mind of a being of pure logic, with no emotions or desires, and found it empty,” Spock explained. “Emotions must be managed. They are often unpleasant and unproductive. But without them, existence is meaningless.”

“I did not find my existence to be meaningless even before I installed the emotion chip,” Data protested.

“You were not entirely lacking in emotion when I met you on Romulus. Your desire to be human is an emotional one. You expressed disappointment at the thought that I had abandoned that which you have sought all your life.”

“I was not capable of experiencing emotion at the time,” Data insisted.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Even Vulcans have emotions. Your feelings may not have been recognizably human, but that does not make them nonexistent.”

Data seemed unconvinced.

“Human emotions are particularly volatile,” Spock continued, “But they appear to be manageable.”

“Are Vulcan emotions different from Human emotions?”

 “It is difficult to tell. From a young age we are taught to handle them so differently that they become different, even if there is no inherent distinction between them.”

Data fell silent as they entered Mr. Daniels’s uncle’s room.

While Data scanned the room, Spock approached Mr. Daniels and asked, “Why do you suspect your uncle?”

The young man hesitated. “I hardly believe it myself. I would say I had gone mad, but I only went out to see because the servants were talking about it...” he trailed off.

Spock pressed him, “Any evidence you can provide may be essential to uncovering the culprit.”

Mr. Daniels nodded and reluctantly continued, “They said they had seen the ghost of my late father, that he was calling for me. I had no choice; I went out on the ramparts in the middle of the night and there he was, solemn and proud, shimmering in the darkness. He told me that his death was no accident, that my uncle murdered him and now he’s going to marry my mother. I don’t know whether to believe him, to believe my own eyes, but I couldn’t just do nothing!”

Once it was clear that Mr. Daniels’s account was complete, Spock asked, “You are certain that the ghost resembled your deceased father?”

“I think so,” Mr. Daniels said. “I couldn’t see him clearly in the dark, but…” he trailed off. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“You made the correct decision in seeking out Sherlock Holmes,” Spock said. “This case holds many points of interest, and when we have eliminated the impossible, we will find the truth.”

Meanwhile, Prescott let Kirk and La Forge back downstairs.

“The duke has a very large household,” Prescott explained. “I, my two children, and all the servants live in the castle.”

“That’s a lot of suspects…” La Forge said. “Do you know if anyone didn’t like the old duke?”

“He was well loved by his people and the servants alike,” Prescott said a little stiffly.

“What do you make of his successor?” Kirk asked.

“My family has served the duke for generations,” Prescott said, “I do my duty.”

“What about Harry Daniels?” La Forge attempted. “What do you think about him?”

“His behavior has been very erratic of late. The whole household has been concerned about him, especially my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Kirk asked.

“She is enamored with him,” Prescott admitted with some disapproval, but he hastily smoothed out his expression as he let them into the drawing room.

Inside was the duchess in a long black dress, sitting on the couch. All around her was brightly colored cloth that she was hard at work embroidering in a floral pattern. She glanced up upon their arrival.

Kirk gave her an easy smile. “Is it alright if we ask you a few questions.”

She put aside the cloth she was working on. “Certainly.”

Kirk took a seat in the chair next to Mrs. Daniels and turned to her with a more serious expression. “We have some questions about your late husband,” he said delicately. “Do you know of anyone who didn’t like him for any reason?”

She shook her head. “He was a good man.”

“Are you sure?” Kirk pressed, leaning in a little closer. “Not even the smallest argument?”

“Well, he and old Duke Forester were rivals for decades, but there wasn’t really anything to it, and anyway, Forester died years ago. I suppose there are always enemies of the state.” You must have heard about the inquest. His death was a tragedy, but it was his time.” She gave a sad sigh and returned to her sewing.

Finally, when it was clear she would say no more, Kirk stood and said, “Thank you very much for your time.”

With that, he and La Forge followed Prescott out of the drawing room.

As they made their way into the servants’ part of the castle, Kirk asked La Forge, “Do you and Data do this often?”

“Not often, but it’s fun when we have the time.”

“And you’re always Watson and Data is always Sherlock Holmes?” Kirk asked.

“Of course,” La Forge said with a smile. “Data likes having the chance to show off. Usually I just follow him around while he does his thing - taking notes for the stories I’ll write of our adventures.”

“I see...” Kirk said. “It’s fun for a game, but I don’t envy Dr. Watson.”

“No, I guess not - at least out there, I know what I’m doing. But this is a nice break.”

“I suppose,” Kirk said. After a moment’s hesitation, he remarked lightly, “I used to be Spock’s commanding officer. I guess I’m not used to having things the other way around.”

But Kirk would have to get used to it. As an ambassador, Spock certainly out-ranked him. On Romulus, all Kirk would be doing was following Spock around, but he would find some way to make himself useful.

“No interest in command?” Kirk asked, diverting the conversation from his more serious thoughts.

La Forge shook his head. “I’m happy in the engine room.”

Kirk nodded in understanding. “Scotty felt the same.”

Suddenly, Kirk felt Spock’s presence in his mind. It was always there, but now it was clear and sharply defined. He was upstairs, in the servant’s quarters - in Prescott’s room.

Bring Prescott, Spock instructed. Do not let him out of your sight.

“Captain!” La Forge was saying. “Are you alright.”

Kirk’s eyes blinked open. He was downstairs, with La Forge.

“I just heard something, coming from upstairs,” Kirk attempted to cover for the momentary lapse with urgency.

“Are you alright?” La Forge asked. “It seemed like what happened at dinner the other night.”

Kirk waved it off. “I’m fine. It just sounded like something fell upstairs. We should check on it, and then we can start interviewing the servants.”

“If you’re sure,” La Forge said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“What’s the fastest way upstairs?” Kirk asked Prescott.

Prescott led them to the stairs. “But I heard nothing,” he insisted.

La Forge gave Kirk a concerned glance and Kirk just smiled back.

With Spock’s help, Kirk directed them to Prescott’s rooms. The door was open and inside stood Spock, Data, and Mr. Daniels.

Data strode up to Prescott and declared, “He is the culprit.”

Prescott ignored the others, pleading only to Mr. Daniels, “My lord, what is the meaning of this?”

“Did you kill my father?” Mr. Daniels demanded. His voice shook with emotion.

“Of course not!” Prescott protested. “I would never!”

“The evidence is conclusive,” Data insisted. “With my magnifying glass” - which he was still holding in his hand - “I can see the scales on the basket where you kept the snake. And on the shelf is the fluorescent powder you used to disguise yourself as the duke.” 

“Why did you do it?” Mr. Daniels cried. “He was a good man, even to the servants!”

“I do not believe Mr. Prescott acted alone,” Spock remarked. His demeanor remained serious, but Kirk could feel his wry amusement. “There is only one man who stands to gain from the scene that would unfold.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“It would be best for you to see for yourself.” Spock caught Kirk’s eye and Kirk felt a spark of mischief. “Afterall, the play’s the thing to catch the conscience of the king.”

Prescott was restrained and locked away in his room. All of the other players gathered out on the grounds. Winds buffeted the open moor. Thankfully, La Forge had manipulated the program to retrieve Kirk’s overcoat from Baker Street. Now, it billowed out around him, though he didn’t look nearly as dramatic as Spock; a tall, stark figure in a fluttering black coat, looking out on the moor.

Kirk sidled up next to him. For a moment they just stood side by side. Kirk marveled at the open expanse, somehow condensed to fit on a starship. Their fingertips brushed together in a familiar gesture, and restrained affection passed between them. Kirk detected some metaphor about the changeability of nature that he didn’t have time to decipher.

“Everyone’s ready,” Kirk said at last.

“Good,” Spock said.

Finally, their fingers separated and they returned to the assembly gathered on the castle grounds. The servants had put up a small pavilion. In the middle were the young Mr. Daniels and Mr. Prescott’s son, Layton, prepared to duel for Prescott’s honor, with epees in hand. Data, La Forge and many of the servants had gathered around to watch the scene unfold, and on the far end were the duke and duchess, overseeing the whole proceeding from wooden thrones.

Spock positioned himself on the sidelines, just on the edge of the makeshift arena, to referee the duel, while Kirk joined Data in the audience. La Forge was positioned near the duke and duchess to direct them.

Spock raised his hand. The duelists saluted each other with their swords as Picard had taught Kirk to, and then the bout began. They seemed to size each other up, scuttling in and out in strange, almost galloping steps. Their blades met in the middle with a sharp clang and circled each other, one way and then the other.

And then with a sudden lunge, Mr. Daniels scored the first point.

The duel resumed. This time, their blades met in the middle almost immediately. Mr. Prescott tried for a hit, but was deflected. He knocked aside Mr. Daniels’s sword, but before he could lunge, Mr. Daniels slipped out of the parry and pricked Mr. Prescott’s hand, scoring the second point.

La Forge signaled to the duchess and she stood to propose a toast to her son. Her voice wavered, but it didn’t carry well anyway. The impression was clear enough, and she downed the glass of wine, sealing her fate.

As soon as she drank the wine, Spock signaled to Mr. Prescott to lunge for Mr. Daniels, striking him with his sword. Mr. Daniels struck back, knocking the sword out of Mr. Prescott’s hands. Mr. Prescott grabbed a conveniently placed platter to defend himself. He withstood a few more blows before he pushed back, knocking Mr. Daniels’s sword aside. The sword fell out of Mr. Daniels’s hands a little belatedly, but it did the trick.

Disarmed, Mr. Daniels dove for Mr. Prescott’s fallen sword - Spock nudged it toward him with his foot - and stabbed him with his own blade.

La Forge cued the duchess to fall.

“I am poisoned!” she cried and crumpled back in her chair - obviously still breathing.

“She’s dead,” La Forge declared.

“And so are you!” Mr. Prescott shouted at Mr. Daniels on Spock’s signal. His voice rose so he sounded almost uncertain and a touch manic rather than threatening or triumphant.

But was enough to cause Mr. Daniels to lunge at his uncle with Mr. Prescott’s sword.

The duke crumpled next and again La Forge declared him dead. Mr. Prescott followed, tumbling to the ground with a theatrical shout. And last, in the arms of his friend, Horace, Mr. Daniels breathed his last breath.

For a moment there was silence aside from the howling of the wind. And then came the sound of approaching footsteps, like a distant army marching upon the castle as none had for ages. They drew closer and closer until they thundered in the wind.

And then, the footsteps stopped.

“Where is this sight?” Picard proclaimed, dressed in period attire, as a soldier in bright red with a tall hat under his arm. “This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death, what feast is toward in thine eternal cell, that thou so many princes at a shot so bloodily hast struck?”

He picked his way through the crowd, over the fallen men, to claim the ring from the duke’s finger and take it as his own. But before he could complete his theft, the duke startled into action and pulled his hand away.

“Why, young Forrester?” the duke demanded.

Picard stepped backward. Around him, the dead stirred, revealing themselves to be alive.

“With sorrow I embraced my fortune: I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, which now to claim my vantage did invite me,” Picard attempted to explain.

“For revenge,” Data translated. “He blamed your brother for the death of his father. And if his plan had succeeded, he would have claimed your lands as well as his own.”

“What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear?” Spock declared. “It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable.” His voice carried over the wind with a dramatic weight - apparently it was a Sherlock Holmes quote, though Kirk couldn’t have placed it.

 “There is nothing new under the sun,” Data concluded with a Sherlock Holmes quote of his own, “It has all been done before.”

After a moment of silence, the real humans erupted into applause as the holograms looked on in confusion. The actors bowed - first Picard, then Data and Spock together.

At last, La Forge ordered, “End program.”

Note: As a fan of both Star Trek and Sherlock Holmes, I just had to bring them together when the opportunity so clearly presented itself. The plot and all of Picard’s dialogue are taken directly from Shakespeare's Hamlet, with only minor modifications.

Chapter 12 -- The Worst-Case Scenario

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“Honey, we're home!” Ariadne shouted as she and Spacebreather disembarked from her shuttle. “We have information and we need some synthesis!”

Alicia, Tripwire, Lefthook, and Taryn were all waiting in the docking bay for them, looking somewhat concerned.

“Promise you won't be mad?” Tripwire offered nervously.

Of course, neither Pilar nor Ariadne would make such a promise, and it's a good thing they didn't, as Pilar had never been angrier than she was when she found out Sasha had spirited away from the station.

“Please,” Alicia said calmly as Pilar kicked a crate across the room in frustration, breaking it into three pieces, “don't blame yourself for this, there was no stopping—”

“I don't blame myself!!” Pilar shouted, picking up a rather expensive-looking vase from the crate she'd kicked apart, and smashing it against the ground. “I blame you!”

“Querida, that's—” Ariadne started reassuringly, but Pilar cut her off.

“That's what, unfair? She's the one who helped her sneak out! She's the one who disguised her as me! This is on her!”

“No, it's not,” Taryn insisted, “It was Sasha's decision.”

“It's okay, Taryn,” Alicia said flatly. “This was on me, I'm the one who helped her.”

“Well, then, it's on me too,” Taryn replied angrily. “We all thought she should be allowed to go in the field. We all saw how miserable she was in here, if she said she wanted to go, there isn't one of us here who wouldn't have helped her.”

This struck something in Pilar. She was still angry, but something about hearing how her sister felt like a prisoner snapped her back to reality and made her feel a pang of guilt.

There was silence for a moment.

“I'm willing to take full responsibility for this,” Alicia said calmly, “but I need you to remain calm when I tell you this next part.”

Pilar once again made no such promise, and almost broke her hand punching the wall of the shuttle when she found out the station had lost contact with Sasha and her rogue crew, who were now presumed captured.

When she calmed down a bit, she pointed at Tripwire. “You. I want the coordinates for Sasha's last known location programmed into my shuttle five minutes ago.”

Tripwire scrambled into the shuttle in the hopes of not making the situation worse.

Pilar pointed somewhat aggressively at Alicia. “You. We're going to need to put a pin in how furious I am with you. We have information on the life centers and we'll need all the help we can get in order to mount a rescue.”

Alicia bit her lip and nodded.

Pilar then pointed at Taryn. “And YOU. Took a lot for someone as young as you to stand up to me like that for the sake of your crewmates. Me and Ariadne will have to have a talk about your name.”

Taryn would have smiled under any other circumstances.

***

Pilar was, at the moment, too anxious to pilot the shuttle, and Alicia was poring over the information they'd retrieved from La Pesadilla, so Ariadne took the driver's seat. Of course, she was just as anxious as Pilar, but she put it aside because her hands were a little bit steadier and Spacebreather was much better at panicking.

“So, I think it's pretty obvious what the immersion pods and Cortex implants are for,” Alicia offered.

“Let's pretend it's not,” Pilar snapped, “Sorry, my brain is all over the place right now. I'm going to need you to assume nothing is obvious.”

“Okay,” Alicia replied calmly, trying to strike a balance between being accommodating and condescending in the hopes of not getting Pilar even angrier at her. “Well, it's a cult. In the old days, and I'm talking really old, they would prey on people who crave structure and ritual, they convince those people that they're better off with someone else making all the decisions for them, then convince them that any of their loved ones who've got concerns are actually the cause of all their suffering.”

“And how do the pods and implants factor into it?” Pilar asked, trying equally hard to be patient, as she did technically ask for a long-winded explanation.

“Well, see, eventually they tried to make it seem more rational and scientific. They introduced fancy-looking machines that they claimed measured mental stress, or the despair of the soul, or some other intangible quality that no court could technically prove they weren't measuring. They'd scare people into joining their practice by showing them hard data that seemed to prove they'd be better off in the cult. I think this is something similar. The pods and the implants would both allow the cult's leadership to do all sorts of things. Show them visions of their god, convince them their dead loved ones can't get into heaven unless they sign up, encode their brain with the irresistible urge to wear ugly orange robes. In fact, they wouldn't even need to go to all the trouble of exploiting a certain group of people. They could program the appropriate psychological profile, with the brainwashing already done, onto a disk and then just pop it into people's heads. Anyone who agreed to their audit would be clay in their hands as soon as the machine turned on.”

“That'd explain why nobody ever seems to come out of the Life Centers,” Pilar looked slightly confused, “but then, why both? You could do that with the just pods or just the implants, and since the implants need to be surgically installed, it doesn't seem all that practical, you know?”

“Again, I'm not sure this is what they're doing. I'm just saying, it's something they could be used for. I agree, the implants aren't practical for large-scale cult programming, but they could be used for a more direct form of mind control.”

“How do you mean?” Pilar asked.

“Well,” Alicia continued, “we've considered the possibility that maybe our impostor Ariadne might not be pulling the strings?”

“And the quantum shift generator?” Pilar asked.

“Still not sure. I'd guess it has something to do with the life centers. I mean, the impostor usually seems to be in two places at once, with the right tweaking, a quantum shift generator could make that possible. Or…” Alicia saw the look on Pilar’s face and instantly regretted beginning this sentence. “…some of the old-school cults actually had prison ships so they could detain people who wanted to leave. A quantum shift generator could be used to freeze a person in time so you don’t have to worry about supplying them with food and water.”

Pilar looked horrified. “We have to get my sister out of there…”

“We will,” Alicia started, “just—”

“Don't,” Pilar snapped. “You and I… we're not there yet.”

“That's it,” Alicia sighed, “I was really hoping I wouldn't have to do this, but…”

Alicia pulled a small circular hologram projector out of her pocket and attached earbuds to it.

“I've made a call. Hopefully they can talk some sense into you,” Alicia said, placing the projector on the table. “She's on hold, just tap the crystal.”

Alicia quietly went up to the cockpit and took the controls from a very relieved Ariadne, who walked back to be with Spacebreather.

Spacebreather had the earbuds in both her ears, listening to the woman in the hologram that Ariadne recognized immediately.

She looked a lot like Alicia, although her demeanor was slightly more relaxed. Her hair was long and twisted into colorful locs, and she had a faintly visible scar that started on her forehead, crossed her left eye and eyebrow, and landed at the top of a prominent cheekbone.

She was talking quickly, and from having spent so much time with Alicia's younger sister Ariana Baltimore, that the speech she was giving was probably sarcastic and full of borderline irrelevant tangents.

Ariadne wished she could hear what Baltimore was saying. She was something of an expert in sisterly conflict. For some incredibly complex reasons that frankly don't need to be recounted again, Alicia was forced to fake her death and disappeared for ten years, and she and Ariana had spent the last several years working to patch up the damage this had done to their relationship.

Pilar was listening intently, shaking almost imperceptibly. Her responses to Baltimore's speech were mostly nods and quiet utterances of “mhm” and “okay.” At the beginning, she seemed angry, but her expression quickly softened until she looked sad, and then horribly guilty. By the end, both Baltimore and Pilar were crying.

“Thank you,” Pilar said to her.

Baltimore said something back.

“I will,” Pilar responded, and unplugged the headphones so Ariadne could hear.

Another woman walked into the holographic display. This was Marisol Beam-Spacebreather, Baltimore's wife and Pilar's adoptive older sister. Her brown hair was longer than the last time they'd seen her.

“Hi Pilar! Hi Ariadne!” Beam cheered. “We hear you're on a dangerous mission!”

“I wasn't super listening when Alicia described it to me but as I understand it, you're trying to help the President of Mars get his confidence back?” Baltimore asked while maintaining a totally straight face.

“Not even close,” Ariadne grinned.

“And Mars doesn't have a—” Pilar started, but was cut off by Baltimore.

“I know, I'm just being a jerk. Just be safe, okay?” Baltimore said. “And remember what I told you.”

“And come back alive,” Beam quipped, “I mean, ideally. We want to bring the twins out to the station on Halloween weekend and it'd probably be better if you two weren't dead, so please try to make it an easy mission!”

“We'll do our best,” Pilar smiled, and wiped away a tear.

“What'd she say?” Ariadne asked.

“She gave me a lot to think about, and thought about a few things for me so I didn’t have to,” Pilar did not elaborate, and Ariadne did not pry further.

Ariadne and Pilar both intended to fulfill their promise to remain safe when they stepped off the ship. They gave Alicia instructions on what to do should they not make it back in time for the rendezvous, and attempted to break into the Life Center closest to Sasha's last known location.

It was almost too easy to break into. Seemingly, whoever was in charge of activating the security system had forgotten to do so, and despite the late hour, there was not a night watchman in sight.

Ariadne and Spacebreather quietly scanned for some kind of dungeon or holding cell, and after observing two barracks where rows of acolytes slept in bunk beds, a small kitchenette that seemed to be devoid of all seasonings, a recreation room that consisted of a few card tables and uncomfortably religious board games, and three separate dark rooms that had very little besides a capsule resembling a refrigerator in them, they found a large vault with the door ajar.

They silently hoped that this meant that Sasha and her rogue crew had escaped on their own. When they got inside, they found little more than dusty wooden crates, statues covered by white sheets, and shelves of books that had been there so long that, while there was no way for Ariadne to notice this, the dust mites in the pages had evolved into their own subspecies.

The only person inside was a young white man, about Ariadne's age, with dark hair and a naturally punchable face. He was shoving various trinkets, scrolls, and volumes into a large duffel bag.

He jumped back when he noticed that anyone else was in the room at all, but when he saw Pilar's tattoos a second later, he recognized her immediately.

“They let you out?!” Prescott said in a tone that was somewhere between a whisper, a gasp, and a scream.

“Uh … what?” Spacebreather replied.

“Do we know you?” Ariadne asked.

“Ugh, I guess if you want a job done right, you've got to do it yourself.” Prescott tapped the face of his watch several times and suddenly the silence split open as alarms rang through the air. Emergency lights switched on with a loud clunk and the vault door swung closed behind them. As easily as he'd deactivated the security, he'd switched the system back on, and the open vault door had triggered a full lockdown. He spoke loudly and clearly into his watch. “Babe, I've got what I need. I'm gonna need that teleport.”

“You got it,” a female voice said from the watch.

Pilar, however, moved slightly more quickly than the woman on the other end of the line. She unsheathed two of the knives strapped to her thigh and, in one move, sliced the watch from Prescott's wrist with her right hand, knocked Prescott several feet back, pinning him against the wall, and placed the knife in her left hand against his throat. Ariadne instinctively drew her blaster and trained it on his forehead.

The watch fell onto the open duffel bag, and there was a flash of white light. The watch and the duffel bag were both gone, presumably now in the possession of whatever accomplice Prescott had been talking to.

“You blew our cover and I've had a really bad day,” Pilar growled at the young man who was suppressing the impulse to wet himself. “If you want to keep all your fingers you'd better be able to get us out of here. ¿Está claro?”

Prescott began to laugh nervously.

“Something funny?” Pilar let the knife press a little harder against his throat.

“You just flushed it down the toilet!” Prescott laughed wildly. “Unless you've got a teleport of your own, the only way out of this vault just poofed away with my nest egg.”

“Wrong answer,” Pilar shouted and, with the knife that wasn't pressed to his throat, severed his right pinky and ring finger. The resulting scream was loud enough to drown out the alarms. “Clearly you've shut the security down before, so if you want this little piggy to keep eating roast beef you'd better tell us how to open that vault door.”

“That's toes,” Ariadne shouted over the alarms and Prescott's continuing sobs.

“What?” Pilar asked sharply.

“This Little Piggy, that's toes, not fingers,” Ariadne explained. “Still, I'd do what she says, you're losing a lot of blood.”

“It only opens from the outside, someone has to let us out,” Prescott whimpered.

“Try again,” Pilar hissed, and with another scream, his middle finger fell to the floor. “You've got 17 fingers and toes left to give me the right answer.”

“And probably some other things you'd rather not lose,” Ariadne added helpfully.

When the screams died down, Prescott managed to push a response through the tears. “I set up the security system,” he was gasping between every few words, “they know me. When they come check the vault, I can convince them this was a— surprise security, uh, audit, that you two are consultants, and that the system malfunctioned and trapped us here.”

Pilar considered this.

“P… please… don't hurt me again,” Prescott begged.

“Right answer,” she said, and dropped him hard to the ground. He fell to his knees and attempted to wad his T-shirt around his bleeding hand.

“You… you fucking bitch…” Prescott whimpered, which prompted a flash of rage in Ariadne that manifested in her clubbing him in the eye with the butt of her pistol.

Prescott fell to the floor, unconscious.

“Sorry,” Ariadne said immediately, “Oh god, Pilar, I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be,” Pilar said back. “You just knocked him out.”

“But now we're trapped for real,” Ariadne was trying very hard not to panic.

“Would've happened either way,” Pilar shrugged, and slumped back against a crate, waiting for their captors to come recover them.

“How do you figure?” Ariadne asked, really hoping to make sense of what she was being told.

“You were faster than me,” Pilar replied, “which is the only reason he's unconscious and not dead.”

Ariadne sat down next to Pilar and waited for someone to collect them.

Inside Out of Character Part 1

I honestly didn’t expect so much encouragement for this, but I’m so happy that people seem interested in hearing me talk about my RPG characters that I love so much! I hope to kind of cover my thought process behind characters in this series, and touch on cornerstone moments that I feel defined or changed their personalities.

For part one, I’ll be starting with my minotaur fighter, Tam es Eleutherios

For some background on what I was thinking when I made this character: The DM described their undersea exploration campaign as a ‘meat grinder’ and ‘an excuse to throw the monster manual at [us]’. I knew out of game that whatever characters I made for this campaign would be up against deadly and double-deadly encounters regularly, and might not make it. And in game, any character who knew what this mission was knew that the last one 100 years ago never came back. So, with that in mind, I made a collection of characters with various motivations for being on a death ship - desperation, curiosity, faith, ignorance. The first character I picked out of a lot of like 4 or 5 was Tam. 

Tam is a minotaur fighter, a former pirate, and a character who’d be less sad (both less depressed himself and less depressing to think about for me) if he died sooner, like he was supposed to.

The idea behind his character is a retiree looking for a last hurrah. He’s 100 years of bad habits and unhealthy behaviors, all culminating into ‘well I’m getting old, might as well die in glorious combat to avoid a fate like watching myself get weaker in some home for the elderly.’ He was never meant to change as a person, in a ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’ way. His goal in joining the expedition was completely 100% to die on the most dangerous and least understood sea in the world (this took some getting used to for me, so there would be some situations I’d pull back from and others I’d throw myself at and I’m honestly shocked and amazed he hasn’t died yet.)

Tam’s clan name translates to ‘free man’, and he spent his youth obsessing over how to properly honor a family name. In the end, he decided that a family name is useless to proliferate if you can’t say you represent it, so he put freedom as his pillar virtue and began shaping his life around achieving ‘perfect freedom’, whatever that means. When he found his love of sailing, he decided to take that to be the freedom he was trying to achieve and live up to. When a captain of his started talking about getting a crew together and driving out a large trading company threatening to put the smaller merchant sailors out of business, he hopped on board with the plan immediately. When he realized that he was close to living a quiet, contented, boring life with his fiance, he got himself shanghaied onto one of the most feared pirate vessels of the time. Tam hopped from boat to boat for decades, and when an invitation was extended to go on what was surely a suicide mission, he accepted it without a moment’s hesitation. 

In his effort to understand freedom and make it tangible, he decided that the fewer things you have to tie you down, the fewer and more transient your bonds are, the happier and freer you are. If you have no ties, there’s nothing to hold you back, to tug, to hurt when you try to move forward. Tam’s the last of his family name, and he was no where near home to hear about his sister and her children’s deaths when they happened. He doesn’t even know if the man he loved still lives in the town they’d made a life in. He’s never kept in touch with a crew after he steps off a ship for the last time. Tam’s entire philosophy is about avoiding personal attachments in order to maintain freedom, to the point where he’s afraid getting too attached to anyone will tie him down and trap him.

So, one of the defining features of Tam’s backstory, pillars of his character, and a main flaw that I wanted to focus on while I was writing and playing him, is an aversion to commitment and an unhealthy and impossible idea of what ‘freedom’ is.

One of the first sessions we had wasn’t really an assigned mission, it was just the party (at the time, a group of randomly-assigned cabin mates) deciding to do a good deed with their last night in civilization. We were searching for a lost girl, and the clues led us (too slow, too slow) to a sea hag in the process of finishing metamorphosing said lost child into her true form as a hag. I failed a wisdom save in like the first round of combat and instantly dropped to 0 hit points. Eventually, we were just too little too late throughout the fight, and the girl was transformed into a sea hag. The entire time, Tam kept talking to the new hag as though it still had the consciousness of the young girl. From the outside looking in, this is a very funny visual, getting barfed on by a sea hag and saying ‘ah, yes. Typical teen-ager stuff I went through a similar phase’, and swearing to the party that ‘we take this to our graves’ when the young hag was finally killed, but it’s actually a great example of the way Tam handles problems - he doesn’t. He pretends everything is fine, until he can’t, and then it’s white lies and running away. The party told the lost hag child’s parents that their daughter was dead and the party was unable to save her, but we never did tell them any details, and we certainly never told them we were seconds from bringing her back alive and well to them. Leave town that night, drink a little more than usual, don’t think about it again.

The fight with an aberration known as the Shimmering One (homebrewed) comes in as a one-two punch. The monster’s illusion makes it appear as someone in a person’s past that they’ve cared about. So, when Tam looks out and sees the man he ran away from, he runs again - by jumping off the boat. He has a short dilemma in the water about running away again while his friends are getting attacked on board the ship. To spare the details of that fight, Tam eventually does swim his way back to the ship and rejoin the fight with what the rest of the party now knows is a creepy holographic monster. I can’t remember which of the two fighters got the killing blow on it, but upon death it dealt a massive wave of psychic blowback - not only enough to drop Tam and our other fighter, but enough to outright kill our rogue. That was our first character death of the campaign.

Our next character death happened during our battle with a beholder. For some background: in game and out of game, the impending beholder fight was something we fretted over extensively - for literal months out of game. The hiatus between fight teased and the battle itself was about May or June to November or December of last year. Our expedition found civilization, had some fun around the city of Spider Path, explored some cool caves, and uncovered a conspiracy that this beholder had to take back the city. After some social not-so-niceties and working with the local government, the plan our party (in and out of game) came up with was to try to prevent a siege by challenging the beholder to combat in the Colosseum.

I’ll give you one guess who initiated that challenge.

In Tam’s mind, this fight was going to be brutal. It’s going to be deadly. They might not win, but they have to try, because the lives of the nice ‘trolley’ man and his weird cave goat named Billy and the circus man the paladin has a crush on and the overworked tavern waitress and the Colosseum sports fans and everyone else in this city are riding on it. This is fighting a tyrant for the people’s right to (relative, fantasy racist and classist under a different, less hardcore and more neutral authority) freedom.

This is how Tam wants to die.

Out of character, I’d prepped a backup for Tam’s death - a barbarian who I’ll talk about later, because while in the early stages I didn’t intend for it, he became a response to Tam. I was really, really excited to play him (still am), and I was sure that - based solely on the fact that I’m the only non-magic user in the party and would have to be up close and personal with this monster, likely out of a range that would allow for healing - Tam was going to die in this fight. Completely and wholeheartedly sure. Discussed at length with the DM, who was like ‘nah it’s not that hard of a fight you’ve got 6 party members and it’s just a beholder, 2 stone giants, and an otyugh.’ (we were 5 level 6s and 1 level 5). So I’m more than prepared for Tam’s death, especially when he’s knocked down to 12hp in two rounds and has yet to actually hit the beholder (because I have yet to roll above a 12). Eventually, the damn thing moves out of my range, and I have no better luck hitting the stone giant either, and it’s not long before I’m downed, our party is scattered to the wind, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s going to be getting to me any time soon. They take out a small squad of goblins, destroy the otyugh, kill the giants, whittle down the beholder, the druid gets turned into a rat, everyone is having a very bad time.

And while Tam is unconscious, the paladin gets turned to stone, the druid is hit by a disintegration beam, the ranger peaces out after watching the druid get dusted in front of him, and the bard is 2 and 2 on death saves before anyone can get a healing potion to her.

With the bard brought back up I’m finally healed, but our party is down to 2 fighters and a bard. While I fail to hit the damn beholder with my hand axes, the bard lands a choice dissonant whispers, and our eldritch knight eventually finishes it with his bonded hand axes. With the fight over, we assess our losses.

Now, this isn’t the first time Tam’s been too little too late to save someone in need during the course of the campaign, nor is it the first time he’s been downed in battle and wasted precious time being unconscious, or just not present for the fight. This is definitely not the first fight my dice have screwed me over and I’ve just been unable to hit an enemy. This isn’t the first combat that Tam has initiated. Also, remember that Tam not only has an unhealthy obsession with freedom and living up to a name, especially now that he’s the only one left to do so, but he also wants to die. 

Which brings us to where Tam is mentally after this fight - Tam firmly believes he is the only one in the party with nothing to live for. The bard has a girlfriend back on the ship. The eldritch knight is a well-adjusted person on a mission. The paladin is just a kid with an entire life ahead of him. The ranger has to get back from this expedition to save his brother. The druid had his parents and responsibilities waiting back at home. Tam is an old man with a handful of stories, an alcohol problem, and a mounting pile of regrets and guilt that he can’t run from anymore. He should have been the one to die, and somehow - despite doing pitifully in the fight, and barely contributing to taking down the beholder compared to the druid, the ranger, the bard, and the eldritch knight - he’s still alive, and he wasn’t even conscious to see our druid die.

And when you add all of this up, you get a very sad shaggy Scottish cow man with a downright heartsick death wish.

There’s been a lot of discussion about what’s going to happen to Tam now. I can technically retire his character - either by having him shanghai himself again, or having him commit suicide outside of combat. But I don’t think Tam would shanghai himself again - especially after seeing the illusion of his former lover. Suicide outside of a fight also feels unlikely - Tam wants to go down swinging, it’s all he’s ever wanted. But picking a fight he can’t win? Doing something reckless and stupid? Drinking himself to death accidentally? These are all very Tam things.

Tam’s spent his life letting opportunities pass by, afraid of being held back and trapped and weakened by commitment and staying in one place. Tam joined this expedition because he wanted to die in a poetic way, sailing an untamed sea. Now it’s almost like that opportunity has passed as well, and he’s no longer being picky.

I don’t think I ever intended for him to be a tragic character, so much as a flawed one. I expected him to do something reckless and die in a fight far sooner, and had envisioned it more like ‘crazy old bastard in the post-apocalyptic movie jumps into danger because he’s old and it beats sitting around and waiting to rot.’ What I got was someone who feels they watched their life go by, never able to find happiness, and maybe too late is figuring out it’s because their idea of happiness has been wrong all along.

And on the other hand, there’s Tallak Fannar, human barbarian, and I don’t know if I started doing it consciously, but I ended up building the anti-Tam.

Tallak is on the ship because the payment - both upfront and upon return - is simply an opportunity that he can’t afford to pass up. That kind of money could keep his family afloat, get his little sister the opportunity to study magic if she wants, help the village recover from a terrible winter, keep food on the table for his 7 younger siblings on days when the hunting isn’t so great. Tallak loves his family, loves his village, loves almost everyone he meets. His philosophy is that a hunting party is always stronger when everyone is close, when there is good communication and relationships at the foundation, and he believes that it’s his responsibility to extend that strong sense of family and connection to whoever he’s working with. Tallak is a 19 year old who’s been very sheltered in his little village for his entire life, and only in the past year or so began venturing out to take odd jobs. Tallak sees commitments and bonds as strength. Tallak has his life ahead of him, and a lot to learn about the world, and he came on this boat to live.

Tam, and by extension Tallak, is a great example of taking a character that I didn’t think would be very engaging for me and was meant to be a silly concept - ‘oh I want to play an old cow pirate who talks like Barbossa, how fun!’ and becoming a life lesson and personal callout for me and my own duality. I’m terrified of commitment, of being stuck and tied down in one place, of establishing relationships that will eventually end and hurt when they do. At the same time, I’ve only lived this long with the help of my (found) family, of my friends and the people and relationships in my life that have kept a roof over my head and food in my belly and a reason to wake up when I had none. Tam and Tallak represent both a ‘stuck’ way of thinking and a conclusion I could easily come to, and the possibilities that still remain open to me as long as I keep reaching out to others.

The Light Will Guide You Home- IT Star Wars AU

AO3 Link

I, II, III, IV, V, VI 

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Darkness is on the rise. Darth Assem the Wise has begun gradually over taking the galaxy with his Neibolt Regime. As his power grows, so does the power of his apprentice, the fearsome Darth Fide. With the demolition of the Jedi, the public is quickly losing hope.

Meanwhile, General Marsh and the Rebel Alliance struggle to keep the Regime on a short leash. With the rumor of a hidden Neibolt base on the abandoned Sith planet Korriban, they have made quick plans to follow up on the intel.

All they can do now is hope the force is with them...

VII.

Ben was beyond ecstatic to be back on home turf. He really was. He nearly burst into tears when he saw Bev standing there in the loading bay, waiting for him. She was one of the few things that kept him holding out hope during his days on Korriban, and there she was.

He noticed later that she obviously hadn’t been sleeping, and that worried him more than anything. Was she staying up, riddled with concern for her captured friends? Was she facing repercussions for conducting a failed mission?

He wondered all this as he snuck down to Beverly’s room that same night, keeping a wary eye out for any stragglers in the halls. He knocked gently, a simple tapping against the cold metal of the door.

Bev’s face was a total mess of unregistered emotion when she answered, her auburn hair tangled and matted around her face.

“What do you want Ben?” She didn’t say it with any annoyance, just extreme exhaustion.

“I’m pretty sure we both thought I was going to be dead, so I thought I’d come see you,” then, a little quieter, “I missed you a lot.”

She bit her lip, weighing her options. She finally just sighed and pulled Ben inside by his arm. Her bed was pristinely made, and it looked as though it had been undisturbed for several days. Several holographic monitors were mounted on the walls and placed on the small desk. Clothes were flung across the floor haphazardly. Beverly pinked, trying to secretly shift them from view with her foot.

“Beverly, have you been sleeping? Like at all?” Ben asked, taking in the sight before him.

“Honestly… no, I haven’t. But I needed to find a way to get you guys out. Truthfully, a lot of the higher ups weren’t very happy with the idea of us sending any more people to the base, but they didn’t have to know. Anyway, it didn’t really work out the way I planned-”

She stopped abruptly as Ben stepped forward to grip her in a tight embrace. She quickly sunk into it, wrapping her arms around Ben’s middle.

“We’re here now, Bev. I know that you were worried, but please sleep, okay?” She nodded, allowing Ben to place his chin on her head.

“I want to hear about you first. We only got to hear the technical version of what happened. How are you?”

“I’ve been better. I got my gut busted open during an interrogation session, but it's not too bad. You saw it in the med bay. I was pretty terrified, though.”

Beverly nodded, moving away from Ben to sit on the bed. He followed shortly behind, sitting on the edge.

“I kinda thought that we were going to die there. I’m really glad that Mike came along, otherwise we might have. And then our cruiser was shot down. I dunno, we were on the brink nearly every day.” Ben cleared his throat, hoping his next statement wouldn’t be out of line. “Honestly, the thought of getting back to you is what kept me going.”

“You don’t mean that,” Bev said, but her grin and slight blush gave her away. Ben grinned, ruffling her hair a little.

“Every word. And hey, we got two new crew members, so it’s not all bad.”

Bev sort of nods, moving over to lay a head on Ben’s shoulder. He nestles his nose in her hair, bringing a hand up to curl a stray strand around his finger.

“I’m really glad that you made it out alive. I’m glad that you’re all back and safe. We’ve all been worried sick.”

Ben let her words sink in, trying to wring any hidden meaning out of her words. He’d known her since they were children, but as they got older, she got better at hiding her real feelings. Ben liked to think he was an expert at whittling away her facades, but sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

Sometimes he had to take a risk, shredding his fingers prying her blockades open.

“You know I love you, right?”

Beverly’s shoulders tensed just a little.

“I know.”

It was a quick, cold statement. Detached. Ben’s heart clenched painfully. He gently placed a hand to her face, stroking at a cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. She leaned into the touch just a little, green eyes filled with a peculiar type of fear.

“You don’t have to say it back, Bev. I’m stating a fact, not pushing you into a feeling. Okay?”

“I know.”

But this time, she smiled just a little, seeming at least a little more at ease.

Ben returned her grin, moving his head a little closer. Close enough to feel her warm breath against his cheek, far enough for her to move away.

But Beverly never did. She closed the gap between them, softly bringing their lips together. It was unrushed, unheated. Just a chance to feel close and comforted with each other, knowing that the other was really there and safe.

Kisses like this were not something that happened often between the two these days, and Ben filed away as much as he could in his mind. It was times like that that he really wished the war was a thing of the past, and that Bev’s father hadn’t put so much pressure on his daughter by use of his horrid reputation. He hadn’t treated Beverly or his crew right, and now she was forced to pay the price for it.

But that’s exactly what Ben loved about Beverly; she was a resilient being, born of light and held together by a refusal to do what others expected. She remained disciplined in the face of adversity, yet kind and soft when the dust settled. She took care of those who did not have the ability to do so themselves. Ben had always felt himself turning toward her, basking like a plant to a sun. When he said he loved her, it was the least he could have said.

Ben pulled away from the kiss as slowly as humanly possible, rubbing a gentle thumb across Beverly’s jaw as he did. Her green eyes betrayed her attempt at strength, giving way to a mixture of worry, relief, and something he couldn’t quite place. Regret? Fear? Disbelief? It was possibly a combination of the three.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll be alright. We’re home now, we have the intel, we can make our next move. But for now, please get some rest Bev.” She placed her hand on the one Ben still held to her face, lacing her fingers through it.

“Okay, I will.” Beverly ran her thumb gently over the back of Ben’s hand, the small circles leaving warmth in their wake. “Thank you, for coming to see me. It’s good to have you back.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I should probably get back to my room, though. We both need our rest.”

Beverly nodded, and Ben thought he’d seen a glimmer of disappointment flash across her face. It might have just been wishful thinking on his part.

He slowly untangled himself from Beverly, quietly padding over to the door. But just as he was about to pass through it, he heard a soft voice.

“Hey Ben?”

He turned his head back.

“Yes Bev?”

“I love you, too. I thought you should know.”

Ben smiled a little.

“I know.”

Sky And The Forces Of The Multiverse, Chapter 4

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Sky woke up to find someone poking her cheek, she grumbled, grabbing her pillow and slapping it at whoever as poking her. "Hey hey!! Spade sister!! Are you up?!" Sky snapped her eyes open to see one big bright green eyes staring down at her, and she practically jumped in response. Sky almost wished she'd have woken up to all the nonsense of last night having been a dream, but here was Galexia to prove her wrong and make her realize just how messed up her realty had become in a spam of one night. After the shock, sky's brows furrowed, Galexia was clearly a few years older then her, in fact the girl looked to be Judas's age now that she thought about it. And yet, she was acting almost like a child, this is the kinda behavior sky imagined a younger sister to be like, not an older one. "What are you....why are you in my bedroom?". "Because scary girl wants to leave and she made me come get you!" "Scary gir-?", Sky was about to ask before sighing, Luna.

She yawned before getting herself out of bed, she gave galexia a look before heading out of her room to the one across from it. On one hand maybe she should've let these girls stay in her room, but then again if her mom burst in she'd have a lot of explaining to do about why there were two random girls staying in her bedroom. Yeah, maybe risking them escaping was a better idea. Luckily, it appears luna had not attempted to escape, in fact she was sitting on the bed, twiddling her wand between her fingers and reading a book Sky could've sworn wasn't in this room before. She didn't even look at her as she spoke, "Good you're up, we can start getting us home now...". Sky's brows furrowed, "Are you kidding me?". "No, i'm not...I have things to do and i'm not staying here any longer, go call your demon friend, pick up those other girls i suppose....and let's finish this..", She was still staring at the book, but could tell Sky was tapping her foot in annoyance. "I don't know how to send you back yet...I-I'm not even sure what got you here...", She blubbered out, and the girl on the bed wasn't impressed."Well, then get your wand looked at! You know the spell that allows you to check spells you've previously performed on that wand right?". The girl shifted her eyes, "...Yes?". Luna closed her book and stood up, her leg must've been feeling better as she walked seemingly normal all the way over to sky with her wand. "Fine, i'll do it, i can use my own wand on yours...", she pointed her wand at sky's and a faint glow shifted between them as sky's wand projected out some of her last spells in a holographic form. There was of course the bubble prison she performed last night, her spells she was practicing from eclipsa's books, her presentation stuff, but then there was this static shape that didn't look like anything Sky performed recently. Luna raised an eyebrow, "Ok, that's gotta be the spell that impossibly brought me here....but it doesn't appear to be here....hmm." "Hmm?" "Well, You don't seem clever to know how to cover up this, and this looks far from normal.....", she replied, "er....no offence.". Sky snorted, " I'm used to it by now...but.....does this mean my wand is broken or something?". The blonde made a face, "Er.....maybe? It's not something I've seen before but it must be pretty serious for it to be covered up like this...". Then she eyed sky suspiciously, "Has your wand always been this screwed up?". "Maybe, i dunno....i can't tell if it's broken or i'm just bad at using it....", Luna made a little "Hmm", before retracting her wand and turning her back to sky, "Well if we can't find the source of what brought us here, then getting back home will be a lot trickier i suppose...". Galexia, who had been quiet this whole time, jumped onto the bed, face first planted into the mattress.  Luna gave the strange girl a look, "To be honest, i don't want to think i'm in some bizarro alternate reality, and part of me is still doubting it, but the longer i'm here....the more i realize there is NO way i'm home.." The blunette raised an eyebrow at her, "Why, what perfect world do you come from?". "A world where i'm not forced to sleep next to her and where i'm in charge, that's what...", She replied back, "This place might look like home, but even i can tell something's not right about it....it feels less...orderly, and if there's one thing about my kingdom, is that it was as organized as it could get." "Oh thanks...", sky's sarcastic tone was unmissed by Luna, "Just being honest, though i guess what do i expect from an alternate reality? At least i'm not in one where Toffee took over or my mother got killed or.....", she shivered, "Ugh...I don't even want to imagine a reality where Meteora got her way once she got out of hand...". Toffee? Meteora? how similar and different were their worlds exactly? Her thought process must have been showing on her face as the girl looked at her and kept speaking, "You do know who those are do you? Or is this bizarre world so strange that they don't even exist?". Sky snapped out of her thoughts, and waved her hands, "Nah nah nah, Toffee is dead, and Meteora passed on when her 300 years finally caught up to her...". "Oh.....interesting...". "How is that interesting?". "Because that's not what happened in my world....", Luna went on, "Hmm, if that's different i wonder how much else is different...". She paced around her room and tapped her wand on her chin, "I mean, it's similar, but also different enough that it's curious...". Sky was about to ask for more on the matter before she heard some footsteps coming down the hallway, and Luna must've had superior hearing as he grabbed galexia by the collar and hid them on the other side of the bed just for safety. Sky froze in place, and relaxed when the footsteps passed. Alright, no more talking, it really didn't matter what kinda worlds these gals came from, all that mattered was solving this mess before they were found out or before the high commission could find them. She was wasting time. And Luna seemed to be thinking the same thing as she got up with Lexi and made her way forward towards the door, "Alright, no more dawdling, that method to find out some answers might have been a bust but i'm not staying here and wasting my time anymore....c'mon...lead the way..". "To where?", the blunette replied. "To wherever we can research some spells to get us back home, because as far as i know, the library i remember was swallowed up by a black hole in your "universe". The girl couldn't deny she had a fair point, "Well, no, no black hole, though i may of....damaged a few wings on accident with jude...". "You what?" "C'mon, let's just go, you're in a rush right?", Sky taunted, opening the door for her and galexia. Luna rolled her eyes and followed suit and galexia looked at sky as she followed her, "Maybe you damaged the wings but at least you didn't damage the beak." Sky made a cringing face of utter confusion on whether that was a poor joke or the girl simply thought they were talking about a bird, then just shook it off. "Let's just get this over with...". She grabbed the girl's arms and motioned for them to wait, which lead to an eyebrow raise from luna. "What are you doing?" Sky opened her bedroom door and walked inside, "First that's first, I'm Changing, i'm not walking around in my jammies...". - Sky's new siblings were already starting to burden her day. But Judas wasn't faring much better. He sat at his family's private breakfast table, glaring at the two girls as they ate some food he shuck in for them from the kitchens. His parents, nor brothers had ran into him yet but in his head he was trying his hardest to figure out how he'd even explain the two's presence with sky's lousy cover. Maybe if he were lucky he'd run into none of them and get these girls out of here before he saw any of them. But then again, he was judas, the child well known for being cursed and honestly he had no faith in how fast he could move either of these two. How slow they were eating wasn't helping. They made him feel suspicious, one of them looked way too chipper to the point in which he wondered if she was even normal, and the other looked like she's kill him with one look into her chocolaty eyes. Judas has raised his younger siblings of course, and babysitting wasn't odd for him, but taking care of these random strangers was set up for disaster. The demon girl especially was weirding him out, what made her buy she was in another dimension so easily? Judas knew if he was in her shoes he'd be on his toes even if he had seen a picture of his parents with someone else or even if the castle has some suspicious changes he'd still be suspicious of his surroundings, she was taking it all too well and it made him nervous. He stared at them in awe, noting all the traits they shared with his own parents, it was scary. Celeste didn't speak a word to him when he took her here last night, she clearly didn't like spending the night in a hot, dark, underworld room, but after mumbling some rather unfriendly things to him she accepted it. Sunny seemed right at home though, eating her breakfast happily and rather enjoying herself. She must have noticed Judas's odd expression must have caught her eye though, as she stopped eating to talk to him,"You alright?". The boy cut his staring fast, "No, it's....i'm not alright, I-I'm still trying to process all of this....". "Yeah...it's....it's weird....", Sunny added, "But it's ok! I mean, something just went wrong and we'll be home by tonight!". Judas didn't hide his worry very well, "Well, yeah sure, but don't you think it's just kinda.....odd that....we're all....y'know?". "Related?", The brunette mewman said, almost making judas jump, "Yeah no kidding it's super weird, like i can't even believe my dad or my mom would marry king lucitor but i guess some weird stuff went down if you both exist..". "Er....well technically four of us....i have brothers...", judas added, "But that's besides the point.....it's just.....strange.". Celeste stuffed another egg into her mouth, "I'll say, this is like an utter nightmare and i'd rather i get out of it and forget i was even here..". The boy glared at her but prompted to ignore any possible insults she might have been throwing at him, "After we finish eating you guys are going right back to sky and hopefully she can just fix whatever this mess is while i get back home...". The smaller demon frowned, "You're not coming with us?". "I have things to do...", he said plainly, "I have my own schedule and every morning i do a workout routine, and do some studying, feed Lucy, I just can't afford to stick around. Besides, i'm not going to be much help, this is clearly not my kinda magic...whatever it is..". "Oh..", sunny said, "Sorry....". "No, i-it's fine, you guys have nothing to-", Judas paused when he heard the door open and a horned teen with three red eyes and dark pink hair stepped in with a dark t-shit and shorts. Landon paused at the sight of the two girls at the table and Judas felt himself start to sweat. "Uh....", the middle prince stared at the girls, who both looked him up and down when they heard him enter. They seemed to tell alone by his looks he was one of the brother's judas was referring to, and before they could say anything judas immediately got up to pull his brother into the hallway before he got too close of a look at them. Landon struggled against him but his brother was way stronger and he knew it, "Jude! What the-! Hey! Let go of me! Who are those gir-?!". The purple skinned boy shushed him and removed his hands from him, "They're just some of sky's....extended family.....they needed a place to stay...". Judas knew this lie was stupid, but it was all he had. "Extended family..?", Landon crossed his arms, he clearly wasn't buying it and Judas didn't blame him, "Right? And why exactly is sky's extended family staying with us? Pretty sure mom and dad would've told us if we had guests..." "Well...". Landon smirked, "Well, if these two ladies are sky's family, i'll just go check up with mom and dad abo-", he turned to leave before judas grabbed onto his arm and forced him back. "Don't!", judas was pretty much blowing their cover but honestly who was going to fall for it anyway? "Aw jude? But i'm sure mom and dad would LOVE to meet your little girlfriends!", the boy was smiling evilly and judas regretted teasing him so much yesterday,"Alright, how much do you want to not spill it?".. The boy shrugged, "Depends, what exactly are they doing here really? Like i swear to good if y-". "Landon...", judas gave him a disgusted , "No, it's.....they're friends sky needed me to watch, it's not a big deal alright?." "If it's not a big deal why did you even try lying to me?" the younger demon stared his older brother straight in the eyes, " You never hide things from our parents unless it's a big deal, now spill it, or i spill the beans to our parents in a matter of minutes...". "You won't believe me..." "Try me..." "Well, they're...", he bit his lip, "We think they're.....sisters of sky's from alternate universes?" Landon blinked all his eyes a few times and looked at his brother with a expression of pure confusion, "Yeah, you're right, i don't believe you..". Judas rubbed his arm, "Look, it's weird, but i'm being serious! Sky's wand went on the fritz and they popped out apparently and they claim to be related to us!". Landon raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, so basically they're crazy then? Dude, that is the dumbest thing I've heard in awhile! And you believed them? Seriously jude?". Judas huffed, "Look, i'm still suspicious about the whole thing myself, but they have wands, and markings, and they look like our parents! It's creepy!". Landon bit his lip, then proceeded to walk past his brother and back into the room in which the girls were still sitting there eating, sunny turning to look at the demon entering and Celeste keeping her back to them. Landon walked up to Sunny as Judas reentered the room, sky was probably going to be upset Landon found out but granted her cover up wasn't very smart to begin with. Then he took another look at Celeste, who gave him a dirty look. Landon's skeptic face turned into one of interest as he stared sunny down then backed up to his brother, "Ok well, i guess it's a little off she has our dad's nose, or that that one has his horns and eyes, but it's still kinda a stretch to assume they're some weirdos from another universe...". "Fine, whatever, don't believe me....I wouldn't either...", the older demon sighed as sunny went back to eating, "Just don't tell mom or dad, i'm taking them back to sky very soon, they'll be gone before tonight, i promise...it's like they weren't even here..". Landon held out his hand, "Fine whatever, but you owe me a new violin bow...". Judas grumbled, the things he did for Sky, "Fine, just keep your mouth shut...". Landon walked towards the fridge and pulled out an apple, taking a bite out of it before heading out of the small kitchen/dining room, "Whatever you say brother...". The door closed behind him and Judas was about to sigh in relief only to see Celeste glaring at him, "Wow you suck at your job.  You had one job, not tell anyone squat, and apparently you couldn't even do that for like a day...", the boy crossed his arms, "Well, you two didn't even try mind-erasing him. Like what was I supposed to do? The lie didn't work!". Celeste shrugged, "Hey, He's not my issue, i didn't want to be babysitted anyway, i'll be out of here by tonight," but before judas could comment sunny played with the strands of her unusually colored hair, "I don't like that spell....if it backfired...". Judas sighed, "Alright, well i took care of it anyway...now just eat up and let's get a move on before my parents walk in..because i can guarantee i can't convince them to keep this a secret". The girls exchanged looks, "Well, they're OUR parents too, i think we already know what they're like...". the prince crossed his arms and stared straight at celeste "Look, you clearly don't like me, but can you just please keep quiet till you get home? I let you guys stay here because sky's my friend and you guys needed help, I really don't wanna be berated for it....." Celeste rolled her eyes and finished up and Sunny soberly joined her, Judas pulled out his compact to text sky, keeping his third eye on his guests. Judas: Sky, fyI landon knows now Sky's texts came soon Sky: WAT Judas: I told you your cover wasn't going to work Sky:What happened to mind-erasing or whatever? Judas: I was lucky enough to end up with the two girls who refused to even attempt to do it Sky: Ugh well, i'm not much better, i can't find the spell that got them here! Judas: Well, you better figure it out soon! I'm going to bring them to you shorty, remember our deal? Sky: yeah yeah, if nothing works i talk to the MHC Judas: I'll see you shorty Sky: K Judas put away his compact to see the girls finished eating, and judas sighed in relief as he peeked out for anyone coming with no sign whatsoever of his folks. "Alright, now you've eaten, let's just get you back to sky and -"Judas almost stumbled as the ground of the castle started moving like an earthquake. Celeste gripped the table and sunny almost feel out of her chair, "What the heck was that?!", the brunette girl spated at him. "Is this some kinda of trap?!", the boy held his wands out in front of him qucikly before she could draw her wand, "No no no....it's just....Lucy..". "Whose-?" Just then a loud bark could be heard echoing though the castle, and the demon stiffened . He coughed and reached up to mess with his hair, "Our cerebres .....sounds like she got out again and is looking for her own breakfast....don't panic, she's frendly!". Sunny's eyes lit up and a huge smiled formed on her face,  "A puppy!!?". "Well, she's about 4 years old, but....yeah....she's kinda like a big puppy..", he took a breath as the rumbling settled, "But right now don't worry, the servants will get her, right now we have to focus at the task at hand and i'm getting you both to sk-". "PUPPY!" Judas watched Sunny race right past him, pushing him aside to go out into the hallway, and judas had to act fast. He was intended to send her back using fire, but unfortunately that's not what happened. And judas sensed it before it even came. His right hand started growing a deeper purple, his fingers became one, and beofr ejudas knew it his monster arm reached out to grab the girl and pull her back. Sunny almsot had the wind knocked out of her as somethign forced her back and on instinct something long popped out of her dress, wielding a knife ,and before judas could react it stabbed the arm. Judas screamed, stepping back in pain as sunny was dropped. She has a tail, and that tail has been holding onto a knife for god knows how long. And she stabbed judas's cursed arm. Sunny watched the boy fall to the ground in pain, her tail retreating back into her dress, no longer interested in the dog she ran over as judas's arm turned back into his normal right hand,."Oh my god...i-i'm so sorry it was an instinct and i didn't...and....i'm so sorry..!, judas was bleeding, "I-I....", he hissed. Celset was standing at the doorway, having seen the whole thing, "how....what....?." "D-Don't just stand there!",he said, " Get me some medical help I-". His arm had a fresh wound in it, blood trickling down his arm, Sunny was starting to cry when celeste pulled out her wand. "Magical healing wound blast....", Judas felt the pain go away as quickly as it entered, his arm looking good as new and the blood gone. "Move your arm, does it feel normal?", Celsete was still looking at him with utter lack of care, and it left judas flabbergasted as she seemed to have fixed him up on a dime. Though that didn't fix how sick he felt to his stomach about being stabbed in the arm, and he felt himself cough. "J-Judas? I-I'm so sorry, i keep a knife on my tail for enemies, and i though you were an enemy and-", She raced forward and pulled the tall boy into a hug, "I'm sorry i'm sorry, i'm sorry". Judas got himself together before wrapping an arm around the girl till she stopped hugging him and Celeste got annoyed with their make up session. "Ok enough, you wanna explain why your arm just got brig and slimy for some reason mr prince? Cause i just witnessed your freaky arm wrapped around her like some sort of-", Judas cringed, "Tentacle? Look...it's....it's not important...m-my arm ....it feels normal.....we should just..". He made a move to stand up and Sunny helped pull him up as he flt around his arm, Sunny bashfully was hiding her tail again under her dress and she guiltily looked at the boy, "Yeah...let's....let's go home...". Celeste seemed as though she still wanted to know what just happened but she dropped it for now as sunny made sure she had her wand and grabbed on to judas's hand to teleport. judas couldn't help but stare at Celeste before they teleported out, how she just walked over and healed his wound in a flash. Sky sure couldn't perform healing spells like that. "Would you quit staring at me and get us out of here before you start bleeding again?", judas took his eyes off the brunette and grasped onto her hand tightly to teleport back to mewni castle. This day was getting better and better. - Sky didn't spend a ton of time in the butterfly castle's library, mostly because of her lack of interest in schoolwork and studying, but Luna seemed right at home as she went through book after book. A large pile of books stacking on top of each other on her table, sky watched her face constantly shift from worry to frustration to worry again. She clearly wasn't finding any results, even through Queen Skywynne's spell records, and she knew about time and space more then any other mewni queen! And Luna not finding out a solution seemed to be killing her on the inside. Meanwhile Galexia was searching through picture books of all things and the more and more Sky saw of her she wondered how she could possibly be as old as she looked, wasn't she even concerned she didn't seem to be home? She looked so unfazed it was kinda creepy, but then again sky wasn't much help either as she skimmed through practically any book handed to her and barely looked closely at any of the spells. "This is ridiculous...", Luna mumbled,"All the stuff our family has been through and there are no records of any queens who discovered anything on multiverses ! I'm starting to doubt this is even what's happening, there's no way you somehow created this yourself!". "Well it's better then other theories!", Sky argued back, "I mean....I'm sorry you didn't end up in some world with some super smart princess who knows everything, but i don't know anything about what's going on, my wand never listens to me in the first place..". "Well mine does, and even if you can't do anything i'm sure getting out of here...", she closed the book, "We're getting nowhere, we're going to have to search your royal archives at this rate..". Sky's eyes widened, "Archives? Oh no no no no, i still barely know you guys and my moms would kill me if i took you there!". "It's where they keep some of the most private records in all of mewni, you'll have better luck there then here, i can tell you that for su-", The doors to the library suddenly burst open as a disheveled looking demon prince with two girls walked in, Sky immediately got up to run over to her friend. "Judas! Hey!", he didn't say anything, but Sunny looked sad and Celeste looked...well actually she didn't look any different then she normally looked, but she was looking at judas rather oddly. Judas didn't say anything the girls walked over to sky and Judas clapped his hands together, "There you go....g-good luck sky....i'll be....i'll see you soon..". "Jude? You ok?", his friend asked, examining his troubled face, he didn't say anything but then a voice came from behind her. "Sunny stabbed his weird freak arm..", Celeste was tapping her foot, arms crossed, and judas's face turned deep purple. Sky's mouth gaped, She grabbed onto her friend's arm on instinct and held out out in front of her, "OH MY GOD JUDE ARE YOU-...wait...", she flipped it all around, "You seem fine...". "I fixed him..your welcome..", Sky shot Celeste a dirty look before turning to her friend, You ok?". "Yeah....I'll be fine i'm just...", he cringed, "My arm came back.....and ......". "Arm?", Luna had somehow snuck up behind sky, "What do you mean an arm? What the heck is she talking about?". Sky shot her a look, "Look, it's not your business, just....we got other stuff to take care of....". Judas sighed and felt his arm some more, "Yeah I-I uh...I better go....". "You gonna be ok?" "Y-Yeah yeah sorry.....I've just....I've never been hurt like that before and....We'll talk later sky...", He walked backwards slowly, "Call me....". He excited the library and Sky was tempted to follow him, only to see the flash of his fire portal him away through the door's cracks. "I'm sorry...", Sky tuned to see Sunny rubbing her arms, "I-I didn't mean to...". Sky took a deep breath, "Ok, look, let's....lets just focus on getting you home...ok?". Luna brushed Sky's shoulder as she walked past and stopped, "So....we heading to your family archives or what?". Sky grumbled, I'll get in serious trouble if i sneak you in, I don't even know you guys that well, what if you break something? Heck i don't even really know how to get in! because my mom never told me!!". "Well that's easy enough..." Luna shrugged, "I know what to do...as long as nothing else has changed here as far as buildings go.." "You could leave us here...", Celeste drawled on, "Not like I wanna go book hunting anyway.....". Sky was considering leaving them behind but fought against it, "No, you all are still strangers living in my house, there's no way leaving you out of my sight will end well..". "Look are we going to the archives or not? You're wasting all of our time!", the light blonde started tapping her foot impatiently, she was acting like a mother scolding her young child after they broke something. She let out a long sigh, "I'm not sitting here waiting for you to make a choice,  i'm not home, neither are these other girls apparently, if we're getting back to wherever we came from, we're not going to be able to do it while you sit there and babysit us..". Celeste joined in, "Look, i wanna just go home and see my stupid dad again, would you stop wasting me and everyone else's time already?". Sky could feel herself grab onto her hair and pull, "FINE!, We'll go to the archives, but i swear if any of you mess with anything-". She was going to finish her sentence when the bitter brunette glared at her, "You'll what? Anything bad happens it'll be YOUR fault, not ours!" Sky growled but turned around, "C'mon, let's go....no time to waste..just stay behind me..". This was a bad idea, but it had to be better then nothing. - Judas was fairly strong, he didn't know if his workout routines were simply to be a stronger prince or perhaps to help distract him from other issues but either way they were a regular part of his day. Well, they were when sky didn't change those plans anyway. After this morning, he just needed something to do, something to think about. Anything was better then thinking about the wound and blood gushing from his arm. Thinking about what could've happened if Sunny was really trying to kill him. Everything went by so fast, and he felt a little sick. "Dude....you ok?", Landon took a bite outta his sandwich while he watched his older brother attempt to do some stretches on his floor mat, Judas looked distracted, which was odd for him as during his usual workoput session he'd always been the opposite. The older boy gasped, almost jumping, "Landon? What? W-when did you-?". "I literally just walked in...guess you were so distracted you didn't even notice huh? I guess something must be on your mind..." Judas turned away his head and said nothing, lying down on the mat and bending his leg close to his chest. Landon bit his lip and took another bite, talking with his mouth full,  "Lucy roamed free for a bit, i'm sure you heard....dad had to wrangle her back to her room before she made a mess of the kitchen again...".Judas raised the other leg and mumbled under his breath, "That's great Landon....". All three of Landon's eyes watched his brother in suspicion waiting for him to tick, Judas was awfully bad at pretending he wasn't bothered by something. He took another look at his brother's eyes to see him flinch just a little and smiled. "Spill the beans Jude, something happened and you're being weird about it..." "Don't you have violin practice to be at?", Judas sat up, preparing to do another stretch, "You have no reason to be creeping in on my regular workout session...". Landon shrugged, "Guess i'm not over this morning and your strange friends with the wands...usually i don't bother with...whatever you and sky do but i guess that one's a little more interesting since you're trying so desperately to hide it from our parents with really terrible lies...". Judas laid down on his front, lifting his legs up in the back, "I'd rather not talk about it Landon....". The boy grumbled, "They did something didn't they? The girls?". "Landon, please leave....don't you have anything better to do?", Judas stood up now, grabbing a water bottle of to the side and taking a sip. Landon pulled his hoodie over his head, minding the horns, "No...not really, not like the middle child has anything to do with their lives...After all, i'm not the cute little brother with the wings or the next in line perfect prince...". "Landon...". The red-haired boy's eyes then wandered to the markerboard on the wall, Judas's accident counter. It was at 0. He smiled, "Your arm came back today...that explains it. Dude, i think you can just tell me if your stupid counter board is just gonna tell me itself..". Judas grumbled, "It's not my arm coming back it's just that i got stabbed in it!", His eyes widened before he covered his mouth. Landon stopped smiling before looking at him skeptically, "Dude, don't lie about that, you know mom and dad would freak if either of us got hurt like that.". The older boy shook his head, "I-It's true....t-the demon girl stabbed my monster arm, and then the grumpy one healed it...". On instinct he grabbed onto his right arm and felt along it, "I just....I'm just a little shocked and and pain isn't fully gone....I've just....i've never been hurt like that before..". "Sounds like there's a little more to it then that bro...", Landon said, "Though being stabbed does kinda suck, now if only it removed your curse...". "Landon, just leave, i don't feel like talking about it ok?", He pointed towards the door, "Leave before i call mom or dad!". Landon sighed before pulling hoodie more and more over his face, pocketing his hands in it, and heading out, "Fine whatever...i'll be doing nothing in my room if you need me....". He opened the door to head out to find his mother standing there, about to enter themselves. Marco was in more casual wear today and watched their son leave and closed the door behind them to see Judas sitting down against the wall, expression somber and mind wandering. "Hey Judas, sorry if i'm interrupting, I wanted to talk to you about-..", Marco paused at the sight of his sad son, stopping what he was originally going to say. Judas looked up to see Marco enter and cheerfully sit down next to him, "You ok honey?". The boy shrugged, "I dunno, some stuff happened and it just has me thinking about things.....usually my arm of course.". Marco reached to put an arm around him, "Mijo? had another accident?". "Sorta...". "I'm sorry...", Marco cautiously kissed their son on the forehead, avoiding his third eye. "No no mom.....it's just the expected again....wasn't expecting the thing to just go away y'know?". He rubbed his arm, "I-I...my arm got hurt by accident and i was bleeding for a bit....and uuh...can i ask you some questions?". "Judas, i hope you're not thinking of anything rash...". "No no....i'm not thinking of anything....extreme it's just...you never really talk....about your curse to me....", He sighed, "It's stupid i know, it's just....I've grown up with it for 17 years, trying desperately to be cured and....mom what if this thing kills me someday? Or....makes someone kill me..?". Marco pulled him close in a hug, "We're not letting that happen to you....you're not letting that man from last night get to you are you?". The boy didn't answer, he instead rubbed his eyes and took some breaths, "I dunno....maybe....I'm just...I dunno...". Marco held him close, "Hey, you're gonna be fine, curse or no curse....we'll make sure you don't get hurt because of it ok? Me and your dad have already been doing that since the day you were created..". The boy nodded his head slowly, "I-I'm sorry if i'm freaking you out mom, today's.....well it hasn't been easy on me...". "No it's fine....trust me, that arm isn't easy...just don't let it take over you, you're not the monster people perceive you as and you never will be...ok?", he nodded, "Yeah, yeah...thanks mom...I think i just needed to hear that today from you...". "No one's laying a finger on my baby boy...", Marco kissed their son's cheek and judas felt himself blush, "MOMMM!". Marco laughed, "Anyway's i came to talk to you about last night, with Sky." Judas could feel himself stiffen, even if it was only a little bit. "I've called Star about it this morning because we've seen that kinda magic before, but you talked to sky last night and i wanted to know if she's....learned any odd spells....or if you knew anything that was up?". Man, Judas REALLY hated lying to his folks and not telling them what happened last night, his parents considered honesty to especially be important in his family and they would not be fond of Judas lying to them about sky's strange wand issues as of lately. Judas held his breath and went from the half-truth instead to make it easier on him. "L-Last night?" "After she stormed off, you followed her soon after, was she ok?" Judas mentally sighed in relief that his mother didn't know he snuck out after 10 and was just talking about the ball instead. "Well, there's something weird about her wand that's for sure....she uh.....she...she knows about as little as i do...she was pretty upset though.....", marco sighed, "Star used to have instances where her wand busted out green magic as well, they just usually were tied into her emotions or corruption, star just wants to be sure it's not the latter..." "You mean like the toffee issue?" "Exactly..." "Well, no, i don't think it's anything like that....or a least i hope not...", marco sighed in complete relief, "I'm sure star will be happy to hear that, it's just something to be concerned about...Luckily she's gonna be training sky today so hopefully any issue she was worried about will be fixed and we can make sure her wand isn't....corrupted. Honestly i'm relieved, i kept telling her Sky needs more guidance but star kinda brushed that off a little and Star's finally stepping up properly as her magic tutor!". Judas had only been half listening thoughts now wondering if some evil force was responsible for sky's current situation, but then his eyes widened, "Wait what?". Marco's smile was still apparent on their face, She might be a little late to finally start helping her daughter train, but i think it's good sky finally is getting some help from her on a regular basis now. Your friend is very talented jude, but she's got alot to work till she gets where she needs to be and i know star can handle it, as long as she's serious about it...". Jude bit his lip, did sky remember she has a class with her mom today? She was planning to spend all morning fixing her little issues and now her mom was planning to spend a good portion of the day teaching her things? The girls could be found, they could do something awful, they'd be entirely unsupervised! He needed to warn Sky, and supervise the girls before they got away or star caught them. "Judas, you ok honey?". The boy gulped and he stood up, well mom it's good having you here but i gotta....i gotta go finish something real quick if that's ok...?" Marco looked rather confused but complied, "Did you forget something jude?". Their son held their hands out and backed up, reaching for their compact they left on one of the desks, "Yeah, something like that, I-I'll get back to you ok!?" Marco stood up and sighed, "Alright, i'll see you soon, if you need any help just call ok? I'll make sure to call myself since star might have more questions...". The demon nodded before closing the door behind him and tried to text Sky quickly. He needed to at least TRY to warn her first that her mom was gonna look for her, but in any case, someone would still need to keep the girls out of the woman's sight and out of any trouble, and no doubt if they got caught Judas would be in trouble as much as his friend. Judas: Sky, my mom just told me your mom is doing classes w/ you now! Judas: She's asking about about your magic and toffee and she's gonna come after you soon because of these classes! Judas: Sky you still have all the girls and you have to hide them somewhere, get them out of sight, i'll be right there to help! He pocketed his compact quickly before disappearing. But not before being spotted by a dark-pink haired by boy wearing a red hoodie. Landon watched his brother vanish, before biting his lip and pulling his hood further over his head. His violin was n it's case, strapped around him, and he turned around and walked off. "Jude....what the heck did you get into now?" - Sky had never been inside the archives before, she knew where it was of course, but she never knew how to get IN. Her mother occasionally went inside and so did grandmother moon and eclipsa, but apparently the whole thing was "Off-limits" to rowdy teenagers. Honestly getting into the magic bureau was bad enough as is with a group of five, and sky regretted her choice to even take them the longer they stayed. There probably didn't belong here yes but at the same time she didn't know these girls, and she was letting them wander through through important and serious queen stuff. She was just asking for something to go wrong. Sky was leading the way of course, and she thanked glob there was practically no real security in this place cause she had never been the sneaky type. Didn't help she typically dressed up with an outrageous looking monster hat and half the time was in rather bright colors that made her pop. Though she was sneaking, the girls following her.....were less so. Well Luna seemed on guard, but Celeste looked bored, galexia was daydreaming practically, and sunny still looked as though she was thinking about judas. Maybe sky would've been better off only taking luna and leaving them all behind...but then again, who knows what they'd get into without her helping. Judas was out doing his usually routine, Melanie was at school, Sky didn't exactly have a ton of options here. This was a terrible idea, completely stupid, breaking these girls in was literally going to do nothing better for her reputation. But then again, her reputation was bad enough already, if she was gonna end up dethroned for being the worst princess ever, might as well go out with a bang right? "You must be really willing to get rid of us to really break into here..", Luna whispered to her suddenly, peering around the corner, "I mean granted, i would've went with or without you.....but you've got some gumption if you're willing to get caught WITH us...". "Look, i just need to keep an eye on you all-" "Yeah, i've heard that a dozens times already, but honestly you bent so quickly into doing this, almost no argument....", the blonde suspiciously looked at sky, eyebrow raised and eyeing her from head to toe, "Any particular reason for that or did you secretly always want to break into the archives?". "Why do you care?" "Because if I were in your shoes, i wouldn't trust me either...", She opened a door to a closet and ushered everyone inside before closing the door. Sky gave her a skeptic look as she watched the girl move a rack of clothes out of the way to reveal a strange wall. Luna sighed, "I better hope the code isn't any different here then it was at home or we're in trouble...". "The code?", Luna turned around to fave four confused girls, and Sky stepped forward, "What code? You telling me archives is...password protected or something?". The blonde turned fully around and crossed her arms, "All of you have never been to the archives before? Are you kidding me? ALL of you?". Sky mockingly pointed to herself, "Remember? the girl who can't use a wand? What did you expect? My moms didn't bother to tell me....maybe it was because they knew something like this could happen...". Luna grumbled and turned around, she examined the wall before elaborately pushing buttons in such a way that sky was pretty sure she didn't actually know a password to this weird wall and was practically playing with it like some toy until there was a rumbling and the wall split into two, opening a doorway. The other girls gasped and luna's wand started to glow, "Follow me....". "Great, another thing my parents refused to tell me about...",Celeste grumbled from the back of the group as Sky just was now resorting to follow the tall blonde lady with the glowing wand and the surprisingly good memory. "Honestly though, most princesses and queens are never allowed down here.....so i guess i'm not surprised, i'm just lucky i suppose." Sky resorted to ignoring that possible insult as she followed behind but she noticed Celeste clutching her fist a little more. Meanwhile galexia was practically skipping, not to mention observing everything in sight, honestly she moved around so much sky almost think she'd need a leash just to keep her from wandering off down here. But despite everything she was staying with the group eerily well to the point in which sky was almost sure she could teleport. She was about to say something when a small voice spoke up. "I'm sorry about your friend....", Sunny was still staring at the floor, hands together and shoulders sagged. "Hey no, it's ok...i'm sure it was a total accident..", Sky put her hands up, "Judas and i have gotten into a lot of scraps before, and you guys fixed his arm, so it's alright. I'm sure he's  not upset with you, his arm popping up can always get a little...", She made a hand gesture, "Spooky..". "But he looked so freaked out! I-I didn't mean to-". "Hey no, it's fine. It's just...Judas has had that thing his whole life and it scares people a lot and i think you just brought up a lot of bad memories up for him, trust me, people have tried a lot of solutions to "Fix' him and it only made it worse for him...plus not to mention what pain and horror it probably feels to have some possibly living thing attached to you like that. It's like having a second more eviler head you didn't want, except that head could take over your whole body if it felt tempted to or something..". "Oh...", this didn't seem to make the small demon feel any better, and Celeste soon caught up into the conversation. "Honestly i don't care, but what the heck even was that thing? Did you curse his arm to do some freaky stu-", the girl in the monster hat blushed and resisted the urge to punch the girl, "NO! Alright, that's enough, let's just stop talking about it ok?" "Easy enough...we've arrived.", Luna said, making sky wonder how much she heard as they approached a closed door with an eye on it, then luna walked over to a hole in the wall nearby, "We're going this way, ok? and do me a favor, be wary of traps...i'd rather not die because of you." "Wait, traps?" "Yes, traps, so just watch your step....". Luna made her way through and one by one the girls followed suit. "How are we supposed to get around traps if we've never even been here before!?", Luna was about to answer before Sunny perked up and poofed a cloud in front of her before hopping on top of it. "We ride through! Then you can't step on ANY TRAPS!". Luna made an approving noise before sitting on her cloud herself, "Hmm, i honestly should've thought of that first...", galexia jumping on after and sky following suit before celeste begrudgingly hoped on as well. The cloud was moving alot slower with all five girls on top but it was faster then walking at least. They sat in silence before Sky felt her compact buzz and she opened it to see she has a dozen texts from judas. Her eyes widened. The classes! how the heck did she already forget about her classes!! If her mom couldn't find her at home she'd certainly find her soon if she used the seeing eye spell. She was in such a rush to get rid of these girls she completely forgot her mom would be out looking for her today. She rapidly texted back as quickly as she could. Judas: Sky where are you? Sky: Stall my mom, buy us some time Her expression must've been clear on her face when the grumpy brunette next to her gave her a look, "What did you do now?'. Sky closed her compact and shoved in back into one of her packets, "It's uh.....my mom....our mom? Might be looking for me soon..". "Wait.....what?" "Look, it's fine....we'll just...we'll have to make this quick...". "Oh that won't be hard...", Luna said suddenly, the cloud coming to a complete stop. "Why-?" Then sky stopped and gasped as they made it to what is presumably the archives, in a mess, papers torn everywhere, shelves trashed, and  machine parts scattered everywhere. It looked as if a tornado made it's way into here judging by it's damage. The archives, were wrecked. "Someone got to here first....", she said, "And they REALLY made things worse for us..."

Come Sail Away Ch. 3

The first thing she registered was the soft bedding she was laying on. Wait. That wasn't right. That wasn't supposed to be there. She'd just been in Domino, giving someone directions to the pier.

Oh shit. It had been a trap, and she'd fallen right into it like she wasn't a trained agent to lookout for these sorts of things. It was such a simple trick and she'd fallen for it. Now the question became where was she? Because she certainly was not home.

The next thing she registered was the slight stinging in her back from her previous injury. She wasn't feeling like a very good spy at this point, being injured in a fight and being so foolish as to fall for the old 'asking for directions' trick.

She heard footsteps nearby and froze, making sure her breathing was deep and even as if she was still unconscious as she listened to the conversation.

"I thought she was supposed to have awoken by now!" a man snapped. She recognized the voice – not one that she'd ever heard in a face to face conversation, but one she would have at least heard on the radio or on the television. "What did you do to her?"

"I just knocked her out like you said, Master Pegasus!"

Pegasus? What the hell? Hadn't he done enough to her family?

"Go check on her and make sure she hasn't gone and died," Pegasus said from what Reika only assumed was a doorway. He sounded genuinely concerned that his kidnap victim had died, which would have made her laugh had she not been trying to stay completely still.

The door opened, and heavy footsteps drew near. When the shadow hovered over her, Reika grabbed the wrist that had brushed against her pulse, and pulled it back, moving off the bed as she bent his arm backward as the man cried out in shock and pain.

The noise that escaped Pegasus, however, was one of a delighted laugh as Reika's eyes locked on him. They both knew she couldn't do anything other than make threats, and Kenji's words about being careful echoed in her head.

"Where the hell am I?" she snapped.

"Now now Miss Mutou. There's no need to get so testy. I am Maximillion Pegasus, and this is Duelist Kingdom!" the man said, holding his arms out in a dramatic fashion. "I just thought that the cousin of the boy who defeated Seto Kaiba deserved a front row seat to all of the action."

"Kidnapping me is not the best way to say I deserve a front row seat," she said, still holding on to the guard that had hovered over her. "And if anyone deserved a front row seat to this, it's our grandfather. You know, the man that you sent to the Shadow Realm in order to force my cousin to come here to begin with. He's the one that taught Yugi how to play the game."

He let out a giggle sort of sound and smiled at her. "You are a sharp one aren't you? I expected as much from a Mutou. Now, if you could let go of my security guard I'd be happy to explain everything."

She growled low in her throat but released the pointy-haired man that she recognized with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Kemo.

He grinned in recognition at her. "Hello, Miss Mutou. It's been a while. Where in the world have you been hiding?"

"School," she shot back.

"There's no need to be testy, Miss Mutou," Pegasus said smoothly as he led her through the wide expanse of the castle. "Though, I suppose it could be your pain or your hunger talking… you have been out cold for a full day. Come, join me for breakfast, would you?"

It wasn't like she had any other choice, so she nodded in agreement. "Very well, Pegasus."

"Kemo, I don't want any interruptions unless there is a total emergency. Miss Mutou and I have much to discuss about our precious items and very little time to do it since you hit her so hard," Pegasus replied, waving his hand casually as they arrived in a dining room with a large screen in the middle of it. She snuck a glance around the room, noting the doors and windows that could provide an escape if it came to that. "This is one of my favorite rooms. It allows me to see each of the duels that are happening on my island," Pegasus explained with a proud smile.

"How long have I been out? And Duel Monsters is a card game. How interesting can it be to watch a bunch of people play it?" she asked with a frown.

"Ah, you see, it's almost halfway through day one of my tournament. You've been out cold for... I believe it's been about sixteen hours. I really am very sorry about that. And as for Duel Monsters… it's much more than that. It seems things have changed quite a lot since you left for… what was it you said? School?" Pegasus told her smoothly, beginning to place food on his plate.

"Yes. School."

"There's no need to be hostile, Miss Mutou. I just thought it would be nice for you to be able to watch Yugi-boy dueling in the tournament," he told her as he took a sip out of the glass in front of him and looked at her with curiosity. "You also possess a Millennium Item."

Reika hesitantly put some of the delicious smelling food on her plate as she nodded slowly at Pegasus' words. She had a feeling her Millennium Item had something to do with her kidnapping. "Yes, it was a gift from my grandfather. It came at a very dark time in my life and I'm grateful to have it at another dark period."

"What does it do?" he asked as she took a small bite of food.

"I don't know. I only just started wearing it when I returned to Domino. I… was not going to take something this precious to school with me. Lest it gets stolen, you know?" she lied smoothly, meeting Pegasus' gaze steadily.

It was then that Pegasus' face flickered with internal darkness threatening to break free. "Well then let's just take a look and see, shall we?" he asked, his eye beginning to glow – the same symbol that marked her bracelet and Yugi's puzzle, and Reika realized with horror what that meant.

He could read her mind.

Out of instinct, she raised her arm up to block it, her bracelet lighting up in response as Pegasus let out a frustrated grunt.

"The Millennium Bracelet is a defensive tool. It blocks the power of the other items from harming the wearer," Azila's voice said to her. "But it can also call a shadow game. Be careful of that power."

He pulled back, the glow of the eye fading as he frowned. "I can't read your mind. Fine. I'll leave it be for now."

She exhaled shakily and turned back to her plate, though her stomach was in a knot and she didn't particularly want to eat. This must have been how Pegasus beat her cousin.

And probably how he planned to do it again.

Dammit. She needed to find a way to stop him before it was too late.

"You and Kemo seemed to recognize each other. Why was that?" Pegasus asked after a few moments of awkward silence between them.

She pressed her lips together as she tried to think of a half-truth to tell him. "My mother worked for Kaiba Corp when I was a child and once Seto Kaiba took over we kept in contact. So I'd see Kemo once in a while when I was visiting them." But she had never once anticipated that Kemo had been a mole working for Pegasus.

"How nice of Kaiba to keep in contact with you. I had no idea he had any friends outside of young Mokuba," Pegasus remarked.

She only shrugged. "I wouldn't exactly say friends but… that's what happened." There. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. After all, she and Seto Kaiba were far more than friends, even if their romantic relationship had been long-distance for the most part, and she poked at her food again to try to get rid of the nervous feeling in her stomach.

When her stomach finally felt normal thanks to the food she'd consumed,  violet eyes flickered up to the screens and widened when she saw two actual monsters standing face to face in one of the duels. Her cousin was dueling someone who was some sort of ghostly… clown looking thing. Reika wondered if that was even a person on the other side of the split screen.

"Ah, that's the look of surprise I was expecting," Pegasus chuckled, watching her closely. "You see, Seto Kaiba created these systems to create holographic images of duel monsters. It makes the game so much more exciting, don't you think? It's just a shame what happened to him."

She could only nod again, taking a small bite of fruit. "Yes. It's more exciting than it was when I left for school. I wasn't aware of the upgrades Kaiba made… but what do you mean? What happened?"

"Oh… yes that's right you were asleep when it happened. I'm sorry to tell you this, but Seto Kaiba is dead."

The words hit her like a punch in the gut as her eyes locked on Pegasus, who, if he was lying, wasn't giving anything away. "What? How?" That couldn't have been true.

"There was an accident… he fell out of a window," Pegasus said gently. "He was most likely trying to escape from someone or something. There was evidence of a break-in."

Tears prickled at her eyes. She'd spoken to him yesterday before the meeting. Unless that clattering she'd heard on the other end of the line had been… had Pegasus…?

No. She closed her eyes and tried not to focus on that. She needed her wits about her if she was going to escape from this nightmare. And with this news… she would fight even harder to escape.

"Oh, your cousin looks frustrated, doesn't he?" Pegasus asked with a small smirk on his face.

She followed his gaze back to the screen and felt her eyes widen, tears drying quickly from the shock when she noticed her cousin's appearance wasn't how she'd left him the night before. He stood taller, somehow more confident, and his eyes were sharper instead of rounded.

 "What the – ?!"

"Oh… seeing him again brings back so many memories. I just hope he doesn't give in to his dark side as he was prone to in the past…" Azila's voice whispered.

"That's not Yugi?" she thought, unsure of Azila heard her or not.

Azila didn't respond.

"Pegasus… why are you allowing me to watch this? If I'm your prisoner, why am I not locked in a cell?" she asked. Technically, she hadn't even woken up in a cell. She'd been in a tower. There was something terribly, terribly wrong here and he wasn't saying anything about her being here. It was more uncomfortable than having to deal with the Marines. "You seem to have a vested interest in my Millennium Item… so why not just take it from me while I was unconscious?"

He smiled a little, dabbing elegantly at the corners of his mouth before a maid came in to clear the breakfast plates. "Because while I did kidnap you, I am a man of honor and a gentleman. So what would you say to a little… bet? If your cousin loses to me at the end of the tournament, I get your bracelet. If he wins, you keep it and your grandfather goes free."

Discomfort twisted in her again, but she knew she needed to have faith in her cousin and his abilities as a duelist. Pegasus wouldn't win. He couldn't.

"Very well, Pegasus. You have a deal."

Pegasus smiled, as if this was simply a game and not people's lives he was playing with. Reika sat in silence, letting him bask in what he thought was a victory. She'd let him think he won, for now.

Because while he had won the first  battle, the war was far from over.

Another one of Pegasus' men walked into the room, whispering something in Pegasus' ear. She noticed a vein in Pegasus' neck throb in barely-concealed annoyance and frustration, but he kept his calm façade as he spoke out loud.

"Thank you Croquet. I know the situation will be handled swiftly. Now make sure we're not disturbed until I call you back in," he said smoothly, dabbing at his lips after he took a sip of wine. She glanced at Pegasus, the annoyance on his face turning into amusement as he returned her gaze. "It seems like things are about to get exciting, Miss Mutou."

"What do you mean exciting?"

He chuckled a little, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a cell phone. Presumably yours."

A smirk graced his lips, letting all pretences of nice and welcoming host slip away. "Not exactly. Now tell me… do you recognize this?" his fingers pulled out a familiar card next from his coat and her stomach bottomed out, color draining from her face.

Her key card. Which meant that was her cell phone. Which meant he knew, without even reading her mind, that she'd been in contact with Seto Kaiba.

"So now we get to the truth as to why you brought me here against my will," she said, folding her hands on the table in an attempt to look calm, though they both knew she was the furthest thing from it. "So start talking."

He sat back in his chair. "I want to know what this little keycard does. I think I have an idea, but it's very vague. Just your picture, your name and a funny looking bar code. I've never seen anything like it."

"That's none of your business."

He laughed. "This is adorable! You think you actually have the upper hand here! This is just like any good television show. No, Miss Mutou, if you don't tell me what this is, then your little liaison with Seto Kaiba will become public knowledge."

"Excuse me?"

"You see… when my men went to go ah – check on Seto Kaiba, they found, besides his deck, this little photograph of the two of you. It can't be more than a year or so old," the white-haired man explained, pulling the photo out of his pocket and showing it to her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She remembered taking that photo of course. It was taken a couple of days before she left for work. It was a rare instance of her boyfriend smiling, because the photograph was supposed to be private. Just between the two of them.

Well, and Mokuba, who had taken the photograph.

"Give that to me now. That's not yours," she hissed with the little amount of self-control she had left. "What do you want, Pegasus? Why is finding out what a damn key card is so important to you?"

He placed the photograph on the table and looked at her. "My Millennium Eye does more than allow me to see into someone's mind. I have seen distant realms and dimensions."

She unconsciously sat straighter at the word, heart thudding uncomfortably against her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I saw an ancient world of Pharaohs and magic… a realm filled with duel monsters… and perhaps more curiously, a land with neither of those things. Instead it was a land of… pirates. It was strange but I know it's real. Isn't it?"

She pressed her lips together, jaw locked as she stared at the opposite wall.

"It would be in your best interest to answer my question," Pegasus' voice became low, dangerous.

She repressed the growl that threatened to rip from her throat. "It's real, Pegasus. But you're not going to be able to get into it unless you know how. It's filled with magic that's much more dangerous than anything any Millennium Item could produce," she said with a frown. "It's not for the faint of heart. Which is why it's not common knowledge."

"So trying to introduce Duel Monsters to such a world would be…"

"Impossible."

"For now. But lest you forget that I am Maximillion Pegasus. I hold more power than you could ever imagine."

"You hold power here… but in that world you would be eaten alive," she told him simply. "I'm warning you, Pegasus. Not as an enemy but as someone with firsthand knowledge… their world is already in turmoil. The last thing they need is an egomaniac from this one disrupting their lives."

Pegasus' lips twitched in a faint amused smile. "It's amusing you think that."

"When you get your back cut into like you were a fish you learn a few things about danger. I wouldn't want you to suffer the same fate. And when my cousin wins against you in the finals, I want my things back that you stole from me."

She knew it wasn't going to end well, so she wasn't surprised to hear what happened next. "Croquet! Please escort Miss Mutou back to her room."

Reika stood when Croquet entered the room and whispered something else in Pegasus' ear before leading her back up to her tower. The irony of being a woman locked in a castle's tower wasn't lost on her.

But as she laid in her bed that night, with sleep refusing to come to her, she could have sworn she heard helicopter blades whirring in the distance.

Hello! Sorry for ask this and reminding you of a series you wrote nearly 5 years ago, but I had recently been rewatching Phineas and Ferb and had stumbled in your sieze the summer series (which is probably my favorite pnf fics I've found). At this point I'm not asking you to continue it because I know that interest changes and you're into rotg now. I was just wondering what you had planned for it, if you did have any? I'll leave my ask as public just in case you wanted to answer privately :D

Glad to hear someone enjoyed the series! Always meant to write more for it, but didn’t getting a lot of feed back on it, and then RotG stole our brain. We had a lot planned. So… Highlights:- Ferb and Phineas end up getting a platypus army as their support unit, like how the Fireside Girls were. There’s also an Echidna, who thinks they’re a Platypus. They’re Ferb’s main assistant. - Phineas is Asexual Extrovert, Ferb is a Pansexual Introvert (inspiration) and at one point goes steady with an alien. - They have multiple bases world wide, in outer space, and the moon. Due to their inventions being stolen one too many times, their main headquarters is Atlantis - off the coast of Danville. It’s accessible through the warehouse via tubes that the tides twist and turn into a unique roller coaster ride every time you go through. Irving is in charge of security.- They have multiple businesses, depending on what they’re doing. The main company is ‘Endless Summer’. - They have amusement parks with ever shifting events, rides, and concerts everywhere they are. Admission is frequently free. One of them is the castle by Grandpa Reginald and Grandma Winnie’s place.- Isabella is their Pepper Potts, she takes care of the running of the company so that they can focus on inventing. Stacy eventually becomes the head of the legal department. - Perry continues to hide his secret agent persona from Phineas and Ferb, but mostly because he thinks it’s funny and he’s secretly a troll.- Doofenshmirtz is a part time substitute teacher. He gets along best with the weird kids and encourages them. - Fred from the future episode is actually Vanessa and Monty’s kid (he looks like a young Roger Doofenshmirtz) Was still trying to figure out how/why Candace eventually adopted him, think it came down to Vanessa being a double agent. -Vanessa is the Johnson kids’ cool Aunt Vanessa and is a large part of their lives.- At some point 20 years down the line have an accident resulting in mixing their dna together and creating twins which aren’t technically clones, royally confused the media, moral groups, and the scientific community. They didn’t care, loved their kids, and platypi are great nannies when it comes to curious toddlers around lasers. (I don’t know, the logistics of this makes me laugh)And they have one limitation they can’t cross. This was originally written for the Spook-Me Ficathon, but we couldn’t quite figure out the beginning or the end. Based off of ‘The Solider and Death’, the idea was that Isabella works with those ‘Make a Wish’ type of things, 2,450 words, mentions of death. 

“Anyway, thanks Phineas.” Isabella watched the redhead collapse against the wall in the hallway, and slide down until he was sitting on the ground, spindly knees sticking up in the air. She’d known that they had been reluctant to come to the hospital, but they’d done it to help Kenny. And the holographic system they’d rigged for the kid to ‘visit’ outer space had been beyond comparison.

“I’m just sorry we couldn’t do more.” Phineas said tiredly, tilting his head back against the wall.

“You did all you could do.” She said soothingly. Seriously, the guys did more than twelve people put together sometimes. She gave a small laugh. “I mean, not even you can stop death.”

Phineas flinched.

Isabella stared. That wasn’t a normal flinch, that was a ‘Phineas is guilty of something and bad at hiding it’ flinch.

Her question died as Ferb stepped out of the ward, Phineas automatically turning to face his brother with an expression she couldn’t quite pin down. Guilt and relief, mostly.

“Never.” Ferb said with a tone that was both firm and profoundly sad at the same time as he approached them, pocket watch in his hand. “Ask that of us again.”

With that, he sat down on the floor next to Phineas, taking his brother’s hand in his, their fingers twined together as if they were anchoring each other against an incoming storm.

“But…” Isabella glanced between them and the room they had just left. Phineas had seemed so cheerful, excited to share the galaxy with the kid. Ferb didn’t tend to be quite as expressive, but he hadn’t seemed put out to be there either.

“Three.” Phineas said softly, looking at the pocket watch in Ferb’s hand. “Two… One… Zero.”

They lapsed into silence, staring resolutely at the floor. “Wha-” Isabella started to say, when from down the hall she heard an alarm go off. Code blue was called and people started to run in the direction of the room they’d just left. Someone began wailing in the background.

Kenny was dead.

She turned and stared at them with wide eyes. Her friends had pulled off some amazing marvels in their time, but to be able to predict the moment of a child’s death-?

“You knew when he was going to die.” She whispered, the realisation sinking in.

“Yeah.” Phineas agreed softly, his eyes half-lidded and shadowy.

“But… If you knew, why didn’t you do something?” Isabella asked. Time after time, she’d seen them do impossible things, pulling miracles out of thin air at the last second. And yet they’d played with the boy instead of even attempting to save his life. “You guys! You guys can do anything together! Why didn’t you-”

“We CAN’T!” Phineas snapped, his voice cracking as he turned and glared at her. “You think… You think we like knowing that we could probably be able to do something and not being allowed to? You think it’s easy to just… what? Sit here and do nothing? I, We hate it! But we can’t!”

“Why. Not?!” She demanded. All those outings, all that time that Kenny could have had. The years his parents, that she, could have spent with him. Gone. He was never going to grow up, ever actually go into outer space, never even date or have his first kiss. All that, gone.

Phineas glared down at the floor, a stubborn look on his face. Ferb turned towards his brother, squeezing Phineas’ hand. Phineas sighed, tilting sideways until he was leaning against Ferb, his head resting on Ferb’s broad shoulder.

“Remember when we 16 and Grandpa Reginald passed away?” Phineas asked, looking away from her, his eyes half-lidded again. “Ferb and I built a box that could hold anything. And we caught Death, and put Death in the box.”

“You… caught Death?” Isabella echoed, feeling like it was the start to a bad joke.

“Well, the metaphysical manifestation of Death anyway.” Phineas clarified with a small half-shrug of one shoulder. “Same thing, really. With Death trapped in the box, nothing could die. And Grandpa Reg wouldn’t die.”

He trailed off, his eyes drifting shut. Ferb merely rested his head on Phineas’, offering silent comfort. Isabella remembered Ferb had been close to his grandfather, the only other grandparent who shared Ferb’s dare-devilish ways, his need for constant physical challenges.

“Grandma Winifred figured out what was going on and made us release Death from the box.” Phineas continued. “Not dying hurt Grandpa Reg more than the thought of leaving, his body ached and he was ready for the next adventure. But you can’t trap a metaphysical manifestation of a major cosmic force and expect to escape unscathed.”

Ferb pulled out the crystal glass he’d been holding earlier up for her to see. “We made a deal, and got this glass in exchange for the box.” Phineas lifted his head to look up at her. “We look through the glass when it’s full of water. If Death is at the foot of the person, we can do something. If Death is at their head, Death wants a new friend, and all we can do is ease their way. I never see it, but sometimes Ferb gets a glimpse of Death’s timer and we know how long they have.”

“-Like today.” Isabella murmured, remembering Ferb setting the timer after looking through the strange glass.

Phineas nodded. “If we break the deal, Death takes one of us away.” Their fingers clenched tight around each other, as if afraid the other would be torn from their grasp. “And never comes for the other. We’d never see each other again. Ever.”

Isabella had read enough Greek Mythology to know that ‘Eternal Life’ didn’t mean 'Eternal Youth’. Their body growing frailer and frailer, yet never being able to pass on.

But to have one brother left without the other, that would be an endless Hell on Earth.

“If we don’t, when Death comes for us, we go together.” Phineas turned and faced Ferb with a slight smile. “Neither is left behind.”

Ferb smiled back, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. For all the simplicity, it was a personal, intimate gesture.

The strength of their bond sometimes frightened Isabella, even as she craved it. She sometimes wished she had that she could have that sort of connection with someone, that closeness. But to be that much a part of someone, and have someone so a part of herself, it was a daunting prospect. It seemed like she’d lose a lot of who she was in the process and she wasn’t sure she was willing to give that up yet.

Their story seemed a little bit too fantastical too, like it was some sort of fairy tale or mythology. They’d done some pretty amazing things together, but trapping Death? That was stretching the limits, and she’d ridden in a space ship before.

Ferb made some sort of gesture and Phineas nodded, the two of them pulling their heads back. “Good idea, Ferb.”

“What?” She asked. Ferb held the crystal glass out to her.

“Fill the glass with water, any water will do, then stand the foot of someone’s bed and look.” Phineas instructed. “Then tell us what you see. We’ll be right here. Remember, head of the bed and foot of the bed.”

“I… Okay.” Isabella nodded. It couldn’t hurt to verify. She took the glass and with a small nod, walked down the hall to a side corridor where she knew a drinking fountain was, filling the glass with water. It sparkled prettily in the lights, throwing off rainbows, much like a diamond would. With a small smile, she walked back the other way, to a quiet wing she knew the critical patients were in.

Knowing that the nurses would probably want to know why she was there, she stopped at the foot of the first bed she saw, an elderly man with paper fine skin. She lifted the glass, peering through it.

At first, she saw nothing. Then she noticed a kind of shadow next to the bed, and shifted so she could look there.

Through the glass, she could see a pale thin woman with a head of hair that looked like messily spilt ink, dressed in a black tanktop and jeans sitting next to the man, watching him with a small smile on her face. The oddest things about the woman was a little spiral under one of her eyes, a large silver ankh necklace, and an umbrella in her hand. Isabella shook her head and moved her head to look at the spot without the glass.

Nothing.

She looked through the glass again. Even with all the black, the woman looked nice, like a friendly neighbour, or long forgotten friend. The woman seemed to notice Isabella and raised a hand, placing her finger in front of her lips in a gesture for silence. Isabella nodded and the woman winked before turning her attention back to the man, who seemed to be turning his head towards the woman, reaching one weak hand towards her.

Isabella lowered the glass and quickly walked away.

When she found Phineas and Ferb, they were leaning against each other, Phineas’ head tucked under Ferb’s chin, Phineas whispering softly and Ferb responding in his strange silent way. They pulled away when they saw her coming, their hands still locked together between them.

“Death is a woman.” Isabella reported, handing Ferb the glass.

“Sometimes.” Phineas agreed as Ferb made the glass disappear into a pocket, water and all. “Sometimes he’s a huge skeleton with booming voice and a white horse named 'Binky’. Other times, he’s an annoyed skeleton with a Jamaican accent. A few times, he’s looked kind of like a child wrapped in black. Death’s kind of a personal thing, it’s different for everybody.”

“Oh.” Isabella leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest. She had just seen Death. And lived.

Phineas gave a small chuckle at her reaction, lifting his free hand and wrapping it around the wrist of the her arm closest to him. She turned her wrist, capturing his hand and holding on, their hands pressed palm to palm. His hand was warm and dry and she could feel his heartbeat against her skin.

“It seemed like the most amazing thing when we first got the glass.” Phineas said, his voice hushed. “We’d sneak into the hospital and check everyone we could. The ones Death wasn’t coming for yet, we did what we could. Those that we couldn’t… Well, this isn’t the first time we’ve set up the holographic projectors in a hospital.”

“The problem was when other people got an inkling as to what we were doing.” Phineas’ expression turned hunted. “And the shouting started, why would we save some people, but not others? Parents, siblings, close friends would offer their lives in exchange for a loved ones and there was nothing we could do. And we tried to explain it, but no one would listen.”

“Even worse was when they put our appearance together with someone dying, and started accusing us of killing people.” Phineas’ tone turned annoyed, the words picking up speed as he got more agitated about it.. “Like it was our fault that someone died when all we were trying to do was make them happy, even if it was just for a little while! People who were lonely, or scared, and even if we could help them, suddenly we weren’t allowed to do so and-”

“Oh, Phineas…” Isabella stopped him, kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder. He cut off with a hiccup, his face twisted up with emotion. She pulled him towards her, tucking her shoulder under his chin, then reaching out and doing the same to Ferb. Just because it didn’t show on the quiet man’s face, didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. “Ferb. I’m so sorry.” She whispered.

“Not your fault.” Phineas murmured back. Except it kind of was, she was the one to ask him here again, re-opening old wounds. The one who had started accusing of not caring enough, to save Kenny instead of making his last memories happy ones.

“The hard part is that we really can do anything.” Phineas whispered. “We’ve come up with thousands of cures, everything from the common cold to cancer, but we don’t know if that would inadvertently break the deal.” And Death would come for one of them.

“Is that why you won’t do anything with the bio-sciences?” She asked, pulling away to give them some space.

“Partly.” Phineas agreed. “That and we’re afraid someone would turn them into bio-weapons. Or limit the cures, which amounts to the same thing. Prosthetics have the same problem. Too simple, it doesn’t look right, too much and it’s the basis for super-powered exo-armour.”

She nodded. They’d had a problem a while back, someone attempting to break into the warehouse to steal blueprints for the Beak’s armour.

Balancing was the hardest part of her job. Not enough help and nothing changed. Too much assistance and it was like being a bully, forcing them to take it. People had to want the help, to accept and use it for it to actually work.

“Anyway.” Phineas leaned back against the wall, Ferb following. “We hid the glass away in our room for a while, I think it held change-” Ferb raised an eyebrow and Phineas nodded, accepting the correction as if it had been spoken out-loud. “Right, miscellaneous bolts and screws. We found it when we moved into the warehouse, but haven’t pulled it out for use until now.”

Because she’d asked them to come, to save Kenny if they could.

People always felt helpless in the face of Death, but how much worse would it be, to know that you had the ability to change things, but couldn’t without risking the person closest to you? How often had they broken their hearts over it? Because Phineas was incapable of not caring, and Ferb was right there with him.

“We can do anything, build anything, but there are some lines that we can’t cross.” Phineas murmured. “Even if we want to.”

Isabella nodded. “I’ll take care of anything else like this in the future.” She promised, making a few mental notes. Best to remove the temptation entirely.

Ferb had a silent communication with Phineas for a moment. “We don’t have any problems with the holographic projections being used to grant wishes like this.” Phineas said, obviously echoing Ferb’s thoughts. “Install them in every children’s hospital you want. Even bringing kids to the warehouse to build with us for a day is fine. Just no more hospitals.”

“Okay.” Isabella nodded. They could do that.They could do almost anything. It was going to take a while to wrap her brain around the idea that there was something they couldn’t do. “Thanks.” Phineas said, tilting his head back, resting it against the wall, the sounds of the hospital suddenly seeming to rush back in. Isabella moved to stand over them and guard them until they were ready to move. —-(Deaths mentioned are from Sandman, Diskworld, and The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, it being personal is from Beetlejuice, and Kenny is from South Park )  

2, 6, 13, 15! \(*u*)/

2- Favorite snippet of dialogue

Hmmm… off the top of my head (that’s a lie, I went looking through stuff), I thought of this one short I wrote that was only dialogue. Like, only. Nothing outside of quotation marks. Characters didn’t even have names. That was alright, bit abstract, didn’t make too much sense, but here’s a bit from that short about two criminals on the run that showcases my love of referential humor:

“Also, have you seen Ocean’s Eleven? They all walk away happy at the end. This was more like Reservoir Dogs; you can be Steve Buscemi, and I’ll be Harvey Keitel.”

“H-Harvey Keitel dies at the end!”

“Yes, he does. That makes it an excellent analogy, what with the hiding and the bleeding….”

“Oh god, oh god….”

“Yeah…. But Keitel doesn’t bleed out; he’s shot by the police.”

“I’m gonna throw up.”

6- Detail you wait for readers to notice

…again, I’ve been at this for a while, got a lotta different stories piled up. When I write, there’s very little planning; I just write as it goes? Some major plot points I (hopefully) have down, but the rest is rather spur of the moment, so in fact there’s a lot of little things that are subconsciously added, and I don’t realize how significant/funny they are until later.

Maybe the most relevant one at the moment is from Animosity Among Men. I was just writing Animosity as I do, but then I backtracked and realized: If I italicize the word ‘god’ every now and then, it makes it subtly punny. Like when Ani first is around and announces, “I feel…. Period! I feel! Thank God for that!” Geddit? Boom. Bonus amusement points. At least for me.

13- Favorite character to write for

The real smart alecks that just talk. They just go on and on, and whether it’s a much-too-in-depth explanation of something or just rambling complete bullshit, I love just writing on and on and seeing what the heck happens. Reigen can absolutely be like that, when he just goes on and on and on, and Ani as well. Absolute favorite miiiiight have to be Handsome Jack, though. Such a fun guy to write.

15- Snippet of WIP

Um. Hm. I did mention Jack. How ‘bout some TftB? Been thinking about replaying Tales again anyway.

Recap of Tales from the Borderlands: Cyborg man unknowingly installs morally-questionable psychopath in his head:

“Look, I’m sorry, bro! That deal Vasquez offered me, I swear I wasn’t going to go through with it! It was just to get him off our backs; I would never betray you, bro!”

Without looking down at the drop below them, his friend adjusted his grip on Loaderbot. “Hey bro, don’t worry,” Rhys assured. “I trust you. It’s all water under the bridge.”

Vaughn beamed. “You mean it, bro?”

“Completely over it, bro.”

“Bro, thanks!”

“No problem at all, bro!”

“What's with all this ‘bro’ shit? This is just getting stupid.”

Rhys jumped, his shout of surprise quickly getting cut off by the sense of falling to his death. He scrambled to regain his balance and grip before glaring to his side. Jack smirked back at him from his spot in between the other two passengers, lying with his hands behind his head.

“Whoa, bro, are you okay?” Vaughn asked, startled and looking around for the source of disturbance.

With an exaggerated groan, Jack snapped, “I swear, if you answer with ‘bro,’ I’m throwing myself off this ship.”

The company man sighed. “It’s fine, Vaughn.”

His friend was confused for only a moment before his eyes widened. “It’s Jack, isn’t it.”

“When isn’t it Jack?”

“Well, what does he want?” he asked quickly with thinly veiled fear.

“I don’t know.” Rhys crossed his arms before turning his attention again to the hologram. “What do you want?”

Jack waved a hand in the air. “Oh, the usual: money, power, women, good looks— Oh, wait, objective already completed.”

“Ha ha. And right now?”

“Hey, maybe right now I want to just relax out here with my current two favorite employees, feeling the breeze and cloud gazing.”

“…Really?” That threw Rhys for a loop. Then again, it’s true he didn’t know what it felt like to be holographic data in the back of someone’s head; maybe it got cramped in there. “Okay then. That’s, uh…surprisingly harmless.”

Jack laughed and sat up. “Ah ha, ah, no, that was a lie. I wanted to ask you somethin’, cupcake, but you’ve gotta hear me out.”

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. He glanced at Vaughn, who mirrored his expression and gave him a shrug, before saying, “Uh, okay? You’re not off to the best start, but I guess there’s nothing better to do here.”

“That’s the spirit! Open mind!” He clapped his hands together. “So remember that time your power-crazy boss tried to murder you and your best friend in a remote desert on a hostile alien planet? And you were saved by some, ah, quick thinking and splendid technical upgrades, free of charge? Hmm?”

“What, you think I owe you for pulling your own weight in keeping us alive?” Rhys scoffed.

Jack's hands flew up. “No one’s saying that; I’m just recapping.”

“It was like fifteen minutes—”

“Anyway, somethin’ happened, and I was able to do a thing, and then you knocked me out and I lost it, but I kinda wanted to see if we could do it again.”

He blinked, giving him a skeptical look. “You mean the arm thing? Nuh-uh pal, you'd better have a damn good argument to get me to willingly agree to letting you control me.”

“Okay, kiddo, I get it: Having your arm move on its own freaked you out a bit. Believe me, it was a surprise for us both. However, I didn’t know how I did it before, so how am I going to know how not to do it in the future? Eh?”

“I don’t think that’s how that normally—”

“It’s like,” Jack interrupted again, “like having the kids drink at home so they know what to do if they’re piss drunk at a frat party. What if that happens again and I accidentally move your arm and you miss your target and bam! You’re dead. Hm? Then we’re both dead, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself for getting us both killed.

Almost Only Counts In Horseshoes And Hand Grenades

Junkrat notices that Mei doesn't smile when he's around. He attempts to rectify this. Attempts being the key word here. On AO3