#please I’m a star et cetera
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I’m sweating profusely. Get Him Out Of Here.
#Geoff I’m sorry#let’s have a long talk about the word hyperbole before you look at my blog okay#please I’m a star et cetera#infant speaks#grickly
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You Were Everything
Derek Danforth x AFAB!GN!Reader
Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.
Word Count: 2.3k
Content: angst, mentions of accidental pregnancy, reader is divorced from Derek, ‘P/n’ = parent name (what your child would call you, whether it be mommy/daddy/etc)
(A/n: I’ve gotta stop being inspired by Richie Jerimovich… reader is afab yet implied/intended to be genderqueer—either nonbinary, genderfluid, transman, transmasc, etc. but it can also apply to cis fem readers. Anyone with a uterus. I know this arrangement isn’t accurate—the custody thing—but it makes things more dramatic, you know?)
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“Y/n, please.” You heard your ex-husband plead over the phone.
“Derek, we’ve already talked about this countless times. I’m not going to change my mind,” you sigh wearily.
Things with Derek were… complicated, to say the very least. You had once been married to him a few years ago, and everything was going so well. That is, until he got you pregnant.
It was a complete accident. You two always thought you were being safe. You both never planned on pregnancy, let alone even talked about the possibility of having a child. And with your conditions, you weren’t even sure you would be willing to raise it, to carry it all those nine months. But you went through with it anyway.
When Derek found out, he was utterly terrified. He never thought of himself being a father, he never thought he’d ever be the father of your kid, and he especially never thought you would even have a kid of your own. And so, out of sole fear and impulse, he just left one night. Gave you space, you supposed. But things ultimately just ended up in a bitter divorce. Derek was barely there for you.
Which was why you were so insistent on not letting him see your daughter. Jessica or Jess, she was named after Derek’s mother. She was four-years-old now, only communicating with her father on the phone, consoled by the lie you told her that he lived across the globe. During your pregnancy, he still paid for the medical bills, child support, formula, et cetera, yet he was separated from you. Therefore, you simply denied him visitation for your daughter, court-ordered, because you believed he didn’t deserve to see her. He left you alone for all those months, knowing how drastic of a concept pregnancy was to you. You never planned to let him see her.
“Y/n, please. Just for a day. Or even—even just an hour! Let me see my little girl. Please,” he begged with hopeless desperation. It was insulting to you, the fact that he finally wanted to be part of you and your daughter’s life.
“I’m not changing my mind,” you assert forcefully. “You left us. You left her and you left me.” You two always had this same conversation with the same statements and reasons. He had always brought up the possibility of seeing his daughter. This same conversation happened nearly almost every month.
“C’mon. She—she deserves to have a dad present in her life. I can’t just—just call her up all the time while she just believes I’m across the sea and unable to see her!” He urged imperatively to his ex-spouse.
“You’re right. She does deserve to have a dad. A present dad, a good dad,” you utter pressingly. “But that’s just not you.”
Derek pinched his nose bridge in frustration and sighed. He felt terrible. He felt so regretful and so horrible and undeserving of seeing his daughter in person. But he was also selfish—he needed to see her. Derek believed that he learned from his mistakes. Ultimately, he didn’t want to be a father in the beginning because he knew he was unfit. That is, until recently, when he shut down UDG and Nine Star.
“I know I messed up. I know—I know things ended horribly and—and you will never forgive me, but… but I just wanna see Jessica. Not even for an hour? Even five minutes? Five minutes, Y/n, come on, five minutes. Let me have this,” he implored. A part of you felt bad. After all, deep down you still loved him. But you kept remembering every grueling and difficult second while you were pregnant and alone.
“Derek, we’ve already had this conversation. You can continue to call her just like it has been for the past four years. But that’s it. You—” you paused in your tracks as you looked at the kitchen table, the plastic cup of milk tipped over, the drink spreading across the surface. You rushed to get napkins and you soothe your daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just spilt milk. Easy to clean. You’re okay.” You wiped the milk with the napkins after setting the cup back up. She was a sensitive child, so she was definitely upset about the spilled drink, yet you were able to distract her from the accident. “There. See? All clean. Did you eat your vegetables? Oh my, you did! All of them? Good girl!”
Your sweet, higher pitched voice transmitted to the other side of the phone, Derek hearing you speak to your daughter. His heart nearly stopped as he began to hear the muffled babbles of the toddler in the background of the call. His voice softened immediately, and he couldn’t think about anything but the presence of his daughter.
“She… She’s been eating her vegetables?” He asks softly in awe.
You bring the phone back to your ear. “Yeah,” you answer simply, looking down at her as she continued to eat her lunch.
Derek felt a rush of pride. Even though it was something as small as finishing vegetables, he was extremely proud of her. He always was.
“Is she—is she there?” He inquired breathlessly.
“Uh, yeah,” you reply.
“Can I talk to her?”
“Derek—”
“Please.”
You sigh, pausing. You only let him speak to her for a certain amount of hours and at a specific time of the day, but… you figured there was no harm in letting him speak to her right now. “Fine,” you yield.
After handing the phone to your daughter and telling her who it was, you caught the sudden change of her expression—she nearly beamed.
“Hi, daddy!”
Derek felt his heart explode and his whole world practically stopped at the moment he heard his child’s voice again. Sure, he gets to call her every day, but he could never get used to it, to the feeling, to her voice. The way she called him her father with enthusiasm and exhilaration, as if he was worth all the excitement. Then his lips curled into a soft smile once he fully processed the moment. “Hey… hey, baby, how are you?”
“I’m good!” She chirped sweetly. “Guess what?”
“What is it, sweetheart?” He replies excitedly.
“I can do a cartwheel now!” She exclaimed.
“Oh really?” He chuckles softly.
“Yeah! My friend Emmy, who-who’s in gymnastics, she showed me how!” Derek smiles as he continued to hear the purity and cheerfulness of his own daughter’s voice. His heart melted every time he heard her, every mispronunciation, every babble.
“That’s amazing, honey!” He praised with admiration.
Her happiness was overwhelming. While he was proud of her—and he was—he couldn’t help but feel miserable. He couldn’t be there to see it. To see his daughter, unlike other kids, finish all her vegetables without any problems. To see her do a cartwheel for the very first time.
“I wish you could see it, daddy! It’s so cool!”
“I bet it is, Jess,” he replies joyfully, ensuring that there were no hints of anguish in his tone. “I wish I could see it too.”
It hurt him a lot, if he had to be honest—not being able to see his daughter and her achievements and growth in person. It was slowly, deliberately killing him.
“And-and yesterday, p/n’s friend Josh took us to the aquarium!” she giggled.
Oh, right. Your new boyfriend. Josh.
Josh, the one who always took you out to dinner whenever he could. The one who treated your daughter with ice cream regularly.
Josh, the one with a clean background and normal, humble life.
Josh, the one who Jess mentioned on several occasions, especially whenever she brought up your happiness.
Derek felt his mouth become dry, obligated to lick his lips. He gulped, attempting to disregard the whole painful ‘Josh’ thing with a relevant question. “Yeah? What kinds of animals did you see there?” He asked curiously.
“There were a lot of fishes, and penguins, and seahorses, and turtles, and octopuses! But my favorite were the seals,” she babbles gleefully, completely ignorant of the entire situation.
“That sounds so fun, baby,” he replied with a wide smile. “Why are seals your favorite?”
“I don’t know. They’re just really cute,” she shrugs with an innocent giggle. “P/n said that they remind them of you, though.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your p/n said that?”
“Mhm!”
“Me? Seals?”
“Yeah. They said it was because you had big puppy eyes,” she giggles.
Derek laughs. It felt nice to hear that you still spoke of him to your daughter, let alone fondly. And it was also very typical of you to say; hearing that was inexplicably nostalgic. It warmed his heart. “Can’t argue with that.”
A pondering thought lingered in his mind as he thought about you, and he felt it eating at him.
“Hey, baby, can I ask you something?” He implores gently.
“Okay!” she replies simply.
“Is… Is your P/n happy?” Derek felt nervous as he asked this question.
“Yeah!” she babbles cheerfully. “They’re always happy!”
There was a wave of a warm, bittersweet feeling in his chest as he smiled softly to himself. But also relief. He still cared about you, so, so much. Derek regrets leaving you that day. He wants to come back for Jess, of course. But he also wants to come back to you.
Derek opened his mouth to speak, until suddenly—
“Oh. P/n wants to be back on the phone.”
Derek’s smile falters immediately. He knew you never really approved of any interaction between him and your daughter, so he assumed you wanted to cut the call short. But in the end, nothing would be enough for him. Not a five minute or five hour call. He would sacrifice anything to see her. But he knew that as long as you never forgive him, it’ll never happen. “O-okay, baby. I love you, okay? Give—give the phone back to your p/n, please.”
“Okay! I love you! Bye daddy!”
He sighs as he heard the phone being passed to you, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak to you once again. It was kind of draining, mostly because he was intimidated by you. Speaking to you was just a reminder of his failure, of how he failed you.
“Hey,” you sigh.
“Hey…”
There was a slight pause until Derek spoke up.
“So… seals remind you of me, huh?”
You groan playfully and place a hand on your forehead. “She told you that?”
“Mhm. I mean—personally, I don’t get why you’ve always talked out my eyes being ‘big and brown,’ like every time, you always said that same thing—”
“Because they are,” you chuckle under your breath. Little did he know, and little did Jess know, that she had his eyes. You had mixed feelings about Derek indefinitely, especially because of the past. But there was something so invigorating about talking about your daughter with him. “Did she tell you about the cartwheel?”
“Yeah,” he replies with a grin on his face. Knowing him for a long time, you could imagine how his face looked just by the sound of his voice. “I’m so proud of her.”
“You know, um… she’s very invested in math right now,” you bring up.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, there was this, uh, cartoon… on the TV showing simple math problems and uh… she just sorta fell in love with it. She wanted me to teach her more,” you reiterate. “Derek, she’s four.”
Derek listened in awe, becoming more and more amazed by his daughter.
“Really? She wanted to learn math?”
“Yeah,” you were practically beaming. “She is so smart, Derek,” you affirm, “Our—our daughter, she is so smart.”
”Y-yeah. She—she really is,” he replied briefly with mere astonishment.
That was the first time that you referred to your daughter as his. ‘Our,’ echoed in his mind. ‘Our daughter.’ He wasn’t sure that you even caught that, that it was intentional, because you said it so naturally and quick, but… he couldn’t help but feel good about himself—about everything—after that.
There was a short pause before you cleared your throat. “Hey, um… I thought about it a lot and, uh… I have this business thing across the country… and, um… I was planning on having my mom watch her or a sitter, but, uh…”
You pause, afraid to even make the proposal.
“I wanted you to watch her. On that weekend. You can, uh… finally meet her, spend time with her, and…”
Derek was in complete shock. His eyes were wide, he felt his entire body freeze, it was like he couldn’t move.
“When is this?” He uttered quietly in disbelief.
“In two weeks,” you answer, “Are you up for it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course, I…” Derek was incredibly astonished. Was this even real? You were finally going to let him see his daughter? “Of course. I’ll—I’ll be there.” He was so prepared to cancel every single plan on that weekend, clearing up his schedule just for Jess.
“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much, I…” He was still in utter shock. It was unexpected after all, just a few minutes ago you had denied him again. But while your daughter was calling him, you got an email from your work, reminding you about the business trip. You weren’t entirely sure why you changed your mind like this. You just hoped that you wouldn’t regret it.
“Just… please don’t mess it up,” you sigh exasperatedly.
“I—I won’t,” he says confidently. Derek felt his hands shake ever so slightly, eyes watering from the realization he had—he was going to see his kid. For the first time, he was going to see his child.
“Okay.”
Derek felt emotional. He was actually going to see his kid. He was actually going to watch her cartwheel, he was actually going to hold her. He could take her out for ice cream like… how Josh had.
Derek gulped as he pondered.
“Y/n?” He mumbles silently.
You hum in response.
“I, uh… How are—How are you doing?”
“I’m doing alright, Derek,” you reply briefly.
You said his name softly this time, however—not harshly like before. It tugged on his weak heartstrings as if they were useless, frayed string.
And then there was an awful, deafening pause.
“I, uh… I still really love you, Y/n.”
You felt your heart sink before it shattered completely. Your vision began to become blurry with your now glassy eyes. It hurt. This all hurt.
Derek wouldn’t know much this affected you, however. He could only hear your voice or your silence. He’d never know how awful you felt just from hearing that, like how awful he felt from blurting it out. He believed you completely moved on from him. But he adored you, to say the very least, hopelessly. It was simply a cry for a second chance.
There was a terrible, piercing silence. Were you still there, behind the phone?
“Y/n…?”
You were speechless for too long as his words lingered horribly in your mind.
Then finally…
“I know,” he heard you reply softly, under your trembled breath.
“I—I still care about you,” you add. Wrong. You still love him too. But he would never know that. He would be foolish to assume without hearing the three words leave your own lips. And you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him that you still loved him, because he would just hold on and hope longer. So instead, you express your gratitude for him. “Um… Thank you for… for all the good times… for being in my life…
You were a wonderful experience.”
#derek danforth#derek danforth x you#derek danforth x reader#derek danforth x gn!reader#derek danforth angst#angst#the beekeeper#the beekeeper fanfic#the beekeeper movie#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson x reader#josh hutcherson x you#mike schmidt x reader#clapton davis x reader#josh futturman x reader#peeta mellark x reader
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤
Tagged by @grey-gazania, thank you so much!! Five fics:
in the breaking (G, 2k). Maedhros and Maglor talk before going after the last two Silmarils. I do think this is the best thing I’ve ever written actually.
the fairest stars (T, 45k+). Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils instead of one; this doesn’t actually make anything better. I love this fic, I hate this fic, it’s so much fun, it drives me insane, et cetera.
The Stranger (G, 928 words). Maedhros and Maglor, post-Thangorodrim. Very pleased with how much I got across in such a short piece.
ever an anguish that pursued (T, 1k). Maedhros and Maglor and the end. Experimented a little with structure on this, and I think it holds up!
all those that follow (T, 6k). Fingolfin, Turgon and Maglor observe their older brothers over the years. I’m fond of this one mostly for the Fingon & Turgon dynamic, which I’m now very attached to.
No-pressure tags for @actual-bill-potts, @welcomingdisaster, @tanoraqui, @dreamingthroughthenoise and @searchingforserendipity25!
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ANOTHER DELETED SCENE
all the disclaimers of the previous -- including and especially deleted for a reason, et cetera -- but these were set somewhere in the epilogue of grey ridge and didn't make it in but i thought i should share with you. (you might notice bits and pieces and phrases borrowed for other scenes.) anyway, enjoy!
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Alicent is about halfway through the Big Book of Bugs when the lamp shuts off—and the nightlight, and the ceiling stars, too.
Helaena clings to Alicent’s arm, clings to it like a lifeline in the ocean.
(I don’t like the dark, she’d once said; about four hours later Alicent had covered her bedroom ceiling from end to end in softly glowing stars.)
“It’s alright, my love, it’s alright,” Alicent coos, bringing the covers up closer around her. She reaches for her phone and clicks on the flashlight, pressing it against the wall to cast an ambient glow. “I think the power’s just gone out, because of the storm—I’m going to find Mummy, see if she can’t turn the—”
“Don’t go Mummy, please,” Helaena begs.
(And her heart breaks, if only a little.)
“Shh, be calm, my little love, it’s alright.” Alicent gets up, much as it hurts to pry her child’s tiny fingers away from the sleeve of her robe, tucks Helaena further back against the pillows, presses a kiss to her silver hair, sets her teddy closer to her side. “I’ll be just there, just there in a moment, alright? Stay there.”
She ducks out into the hallway, toward Jace’s room, where a moment ago she could hear her wife doing the all the sing-song voices for the The Story of King Arthur—“Rhaenyra, I think—”
She stifles a gasp when hands grasp her own; the shining outline of Rhaenyra’s blue eyes come slowly into focus. “Sorry.”
“There you are. I think the power’s gone out.”
“Yes, apparently so.” Rhaenyra looks up, where their hallway light has gone dead, too. “You stay with them—I’ll go down to the cellar, see if I can’t switch the generator on.” She frowns. “I wonder if we still have the holiday candles in our box—"
“Don’t go.”
Their eyes snap down, then, to Helaena, clutching her blue blanket from the doorway and peering up at them shining teary eyes. “Don’t go in the dark.”
Alicent lifts her right up into her arms, pulls the blanket over her shoulders, presses a kiss to her little temple. “Sweetling, you’ve got to stay in bed.”
Rhaenyra rubs her back, makes soothing circles along her spine. “Mummy’s just going to try to turn the lights back on, my sweet. It’ll be alright.”
“How?”
“Hm?”
“How do you know it will be alright?”
Rhaenyra opens her mouth to speak; not really sure how to explain how utterly innocuous their little cellar is, particularly to Helaena, who’s so understandably terrified by it, but—“Well—"
Then, Alicent, smooth and velvet and without hesitation: “Because your Mummy is the very bravest, and the very strongest.” Rhaenyra watches her, how she cradles Helaena in the ambient light, how she looks back up at her with shining dark eyes. “She will always protect us. And that’s what she’s going to do, right now.”
—
Later, after the generator’s humming along and the children are asleep, Rhaenyra ghosts over Alicent’s kiss-swollen lips and delivers her firm, long, rhythmic strokes.
Alicent only curls her arms closer around Rhaenyra’s back, draws her knees tighter on either side of Rhaenyra’s hips. She knows Rhaenyra knows—hears, even—how obscenely wet she is, after her third orgasm, when she’d been so overstimulated she’d gasped slow, my love, slow, and she’d heard her murmur outside the shell of her ear like the echo of a dream, just one more for me—
“I’ll take care of you,” Rhaenyra had crooned, “Just relax for me, sweetling—”
And with the hot lips at the peak of her neck, on her pulse, her breath had hitched, and she’d unwound, only a little, let her move—and she’d moved assertive, moved commanding, moved to hit that spot, like she always knew, when her body was taut like a bowstring—
Alicent’s lips part and she comes with a cry into the side of her neck, sees stars; Rhaenyra slows, rubs circles into the flush skin of her back, shallow and gentle and easy.
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My father always wanted me to be tougher, Alicent admits.
Rhaenyra doesn’t want Helaena to be anything at all, except what she is, who she is, except happy.
She lays Helaena in her little bed, one evening, with her blue pillows and blue sheets and blue duvet, brings the covers firm and sure over her shoulders, adjusts her curtains, tucks in her stuffy just so beside her—the big yellow bumblebee, with plush soft legs and a big smile.
Then, softer than a whisper—
“Mummy?”
Rhaenyra looks back, returns to the bed, strokes her hand along Helaena’s back. “What is it, my love?”
Helaena shakes her head. “Can you check?”
Rhaenyra frowns. “Check what, my sweet?”
“My closet. For monsters.”
Rhaenyra’s lips turn up just slightly, then, as her brow flattens with mirth, with love. “Yes, of course.”
And she goes to the closet, and opens both doors, and makes a show of looking, checking in just the order Helaena trusts—first the corners, then the top shelf, then behind the drawers, then under her hanging things—and then turns with a definitive look, the boardroom look, as sure as she can. “With certainty, there are absolutely no monsters.”
Then she returns to the bed, strokes Helaena’s hair. “I want you to remember something,” she says, and she waits until Helaena nods. “I will never, ever have you anywhere that’s not safe.” she whispers. “Wherever you are, there won’t be monsters. I promise.”
And Helaena nods, and turns her face into her pillow, so like Alicent that Rhaenyra’s heart melts—and falls primly, purely, asleep.
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if you enjoyed this and would like more nonsense check out grey ridge (ríl liatroma) and ride the dragon (do it quickly)
#this is my apology text for having worked NONE on ride the dragon 2#rhaenicent#hotd#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#rhaelicent
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Season 2 Good Omens spoilers
Long rant incoming
Now that I’ve finished crying I wanna talk about the ending and some gut punch reactions I’ve already seen from other people. A repeated sentiment I’ve seen from Aziraphale and Crowley’s separation after the kiss is that “we don’t need more tragic queer endings” and that Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens suffer from straight writers writing queer love that fails in the end. And there are a few problems I have with those sentiments
The first being, BOTH GOOD OMENS AND OFMD AREN’T FINISHED? Like Neil Gaiman has stated in the past that he and Terry Pratchett envisioned 3 seasons in the TV adaptation of Good Omens, and we have definitely left off on a very interesting note for the third act to pick up from. This is the furthest thing from an ending as we can get.
Second, Season 2 of Good Omens very much shifted away from the idiot plot of Season 1 to truly make it a love story and emphasize that above all else. Hell, both Crowley and Aziraphale both point out romcom tropes that they find attractive and attempt to use them to make Maggie and Nina fall in love! Good Omens may be a self aware romcom, but it would be wrong to say it’s not still a romcom that subscribes to those tropes and utilizes them fully! We are ending the second act on a three act romantic story, and what typically happens then? The romantic leads, despite their mutual attraction and desire, split on ideological grounds and leave each other with regrets heavy on their lips (no matter how powerful a kiss is). Queer love stories do this too! Look at the movie “Bros”, they have this same 3 act structure, as does “But I’m a Cheerleader!” where we are screaming at Graham to please just run away with Megan but she is prioritizing her financial safety and family above her own desires.
Hell's sakes, look at the pinnacle of Romance, the brains behind the 1810 Clerkenwell diamond robbery, Jane Austen! Pride and Prejudice also follows this format where Elizabeth and Darcy are ideologically and emotionally split apart, and it is not until Darcy and Elizabeth grow and change for the better that they come back together in the most romantic scene to ever grace the world! "One word from you will silence me forever. [...] You have bewitched me body and soul". What I am trying to say is, Aziraphale going back to Heaven with Metatron is an extension of that common romance trope, splitting our star crossed demon and the too-trusting angel apart to prepare for the third and final act.
And ya know the funny thing that would have certainly happened even if they ended up together at the end of the second act? They would have been split apart very early into the third act. Stories are born of conflict, no story worth telling is one that culminates in "Nothing bad ever happened and we just watched our two lovebirds go on dates and explore each other's bodies for six hours!" Love stories thrive on setting up conflict, so that the romantic leads can fight and claw and work their way back to each other in a much more satisfying emotional climax than if the sloppy, rushed confession that Crowley gave Aziraphale had worked. Stories where the leads end up together in the middle of the story itself don't tend to end well for them (See Romeo and Juliet, "La La Land," "Titanic," et cetera). That is how you end up creating a romantic tragedy.
Third, while “We want queer stories that don’t end tragically” did have a place in film criticism at one time, and a time fairly recently, I feel that sticking to that now when there are a lot more stories that express queer joy and love (especially if you look beyond just major studios, support indie filmmakers, and support the SAG AFTRA and WGA strikes!!!) limits the kinds of stories we can tell. A genuine benefit of today is that there are a lot of queer stories that we can tell, and I’ve been lucky to read a lot of them. The freedom with which we can create stories about us is breathtaking. I've had the privilege to read many well written queer stories, but I've also had the strange privilege to read poorly written queer stories that I can't fathom how they made it past editing. There’s a fierce joy I carry knowing that there are a plethora of queer stories that I can read now, and that more are being created, good and bad.
My point is, there are so many queer stories to be told, and that are being told, so limiting queer media to “must end happily” is exactly that! Limiting! If we go in to every story with the foreknowledge of a happy ending, well frankly that’d be so boring! I want tragedies! I want fucked up characters not fully resolving their problems and being left in situations arguably worse than where they began!
And while I doubt that's the direction Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett wanted to take their supernatural love story, if Aziraphale and Crowley, despite all their struggles, are tragically separated because of metaphysical forces beyond our wildest imaginings, then that would be something new! It'd be interesting if done right! As painful it would be to not see Aziraphale and Crowley together gallivanting off to Alpha Centauri, I'd much rather see a story that has these sorts of stakes for both the characters and the audience!
Anyway, the reason for this rant is just to say that I'm excited for where Crowley and the new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale go in their final act, and by god will I impatiently wait and see.
PS: to those that I saw dismissing Good Omens' and OFMD's cliffhangers for coming from straight writers, Taika Waititi literally came out as queer, and Neil Gaiman had boycotts on Sandman in the 90's because of his queer characters, and his loving portrayal of Wanda, a trans woman that I will protect will all of my heart.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens 2 spoilers#ofmd#terry pratchett#neil gaiman#neil you've done it again but I can't keep going through this emotional turmoil#Aziraphale what the fuck#crowley my beloved#I have an English major and I'm not afraid to use it!#Metatron you bitch
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"Hey, you there! Got a problem you don't know how to deal with? Well you're in luck! I'm opening up a new advice column called Ask The Luminary where I'll be answering all kinds of nail biters! Why don't you write me a letter and I'll tell you what's up?"
The form (linked above) will remain open until November 8th, so please feel free to submit up until that date! Bear in mind that we will delete without comment any letters that do not follow our submissions guidelines, and we reserve the right to not reply to anything that touches on topics that are uncomfortable, inappropriate, or make our contributors feel in any way unsafe or targeted. With that out of the way, we are beyond excited to share this with you! Responses will be uploaded to our social medias as they are put together so please look forward to it. :)
Image transcriptions below the cut.
Have you ever wanted to ask the Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars for guidance on an issue? Or have you ever wondered what Kaito would say about something that happened in canon? Well, look no further! The contributors of the Kaito Momota Zine will be bringing you answers directly from the Luminary's mouth!
Feel free to submit real or fictional letters via our Google Form just like you would an advice column! So long as your letter follows our guidelines as written in the following slides, you can count on Kaito Momota himself to bring you his most heroic advice!
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:
- Scenarios can be fictional or real; you're welcome to write an in-character letter from a member of the DR cast about a problem they faced, but you're also welcome to write a letter about a problem in your own life and get creative with how you sign it. (E.G. A letter from Souda about his crush on Sonia may be signed "Sincerely, Royally Smitten")
- Please omit identifying information such as names, ages, and demographic information from your letters. This goes for people you know in real life as well as people you know through the fandom.
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#kaito momota#momota kaito#drv3#ndrv3#danganronpa#danganronpa v3#new danganronpa v3#new danganronpa v3 killing harmony#danganronpa v3 killing harmony#danganronpa killing harmony#dr zine#danganronpa zine
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Welcome to Yearly Trek Challenge!! This blog is brought to you by an avid Trekkie who loves the concept of monthly fan challenges for art/fic/prompts/etc, but unfortunately has neither the time nor spoons for daily creating of content. The solution? A similar style challenge, but with one prompt per month!
My goal is to keep a semi-active ongoing challenge where each month we’ll have a prompt for fan content— gifsets, fanfic, artwork, crafts, cosplay, and any other form of fan work— and this blog will be kind of a home base (or star base) of the challenge. I hope to reblog lots of challenge entries, put out polls for future prompts, and generally create a challenge/prompts community for those of us who love fan events but don’t find it possible, for whatever reason, to keep up with such fast-paced events as daily or weekly prompts. With a whole month to do one prompt, I know it definitely feels more achievable to me :)
I’ll be putting up some polls for the first few prompt themes, and depending on the level of engagement may end up supplementing with some external ideas as well, but I’m hoping this blog eventually grows into an ongoing, slow-paced, chill fan creation community! If you have ideas not mentioned in polls, feel free to reply to the posts, reblog and put ‘em in the tags or notes, or send asks!
If this sounds like something you’re interested in, feel free to follow and join the fun! The more of us join in the lovelier it’ll be, IDIC and all, right? 💕
Thanks for reading and I look forward to this project! LLAP 🖖🏻
~
ps. this blog is run by a queer adult, and while the challenge prompts will most likely be a mix of sfw and nsfw, please note that content on this blog may include some 18+ themes, imagery, descriptions, et cetera. thank you!
#star trek#star trek tos#star trek tng#star trek voyager#star trek ds9#writing prompt#prompt list#fic prompt#prompt challenge#yearlytrekchallenge#I’m so excited by this idea y’all I really hope it becomes a fun lil community ♡#intro post#introduction#trekkies
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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 — 01
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 Vivian Perez, A hair dye fanatic , low rise jean lover and with dead lungs finds herself fucked up in Sean Diaz's drama. Now her, Sean and his little brother Daniel try to travel to Puerto Lobos.
warning; sexual references smoking violence swearing slight racism
“See you tonight! Don’t be late, losers!” Lyla shout waiting for Vivian to finish giving everyone fist bumps before jumping off the bus, the black converse squishing the green grass under her feet as she runs after Sean and Lyla, a arm going round Lyla's shoulder.
“Are you two going or am I going to have to hang out with just one of you?” Lyla looked at them, Viv readjusts her forest green beanie, which horribly muted down her hot pink hair before speaking.
"Duh, I never miss a party." Vivian scoffed at Lyla's stupid question before Sean spoke up.
“I don’t even know if I wanna go tonight..” Sean shrugged making the two girls twist their head.
“Oh please. It’s gonna be fun! You hate every party.” Lyla whined at Sean, Viv nodded in agreement stuffing her hand left hand into the pocket of her Demin jeans.
“They’re all the same. Too many people, too fucking loud, everbody’s wasted.” Lyla and Vivian a little frustrated.
“You just described…a party!” Vivian chimed in, letting a small chuckle pass her cracked lips.
Sean ignores her sarcastic comments, rolling his eyes, his hands dig into his pants to check his phone. “It’s dad. Wants to know if I’m coming home after school. Jeez, I’m not a ten year old…” Viv looked at the ground.
“He just cares about you.” Lyla adds “You should be happy your dad’s looking out for you.”
The three of them continue to walk back together quietly, the air whistled passed her, brushing her brightly coloured hair, pinking her ear.
“So what should I wear tonight?” Viv looks at Sean, moving her arm away from Lyla as she responds
“A condom.”
Lyla chuckled as Sean scoffed
“Alright I’m in. Paying plenty of attention in Sex Ed class, I see…” Vivian jokingly punching his arm, making him push her softly, she laughed.
“Hey, lovebirds! Back from the loony bin?” Brett asked sitting on his porch, her smile dropped.
Lyla shouts back “Shut the fuck up, dickhead!” he flipped them off.
"Puta.." Viv mumbled under her breath, loud enough for Sean and Lyla to hear her making Sean nudge her with his elbow and Lyla snigger.
“Damn, your neighbor’s an asshole.” Lyla added making Viv's smile grow
“Yup. Always true to himself.” Sean nodded.
Lyla and Sean sat on the steps of his porch, Viv sat on the fence, her legs kicking the air in front of her occasionally grazing Sean's back.
“Man…We need to find a couch for your yard one day.” Lyla groaned, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“Oooh careful…Last time my dad almost busted me out here…” Sean's eyes grazed over the pack in her hands as Vivan blew raspberries.
"That's just 'cause you were alone, Your dad wouldnt bust us he loves us." Viv used her foot to nudge Lyla.
"So…you both want a hit or not?” She lifted up the open pack offering one, Vivian shrugged taking one as she shoved her hand down her jean pocket trying to dig out her lighter.
“Nah. Maybe at the party. Track stars aren’t supposed to smoke, ya know…” Sean shook his head 'no'
“Yeah, sure. I’ll remember this when you’re begging for a spliff tonight…” Lyla scoffed twisting in her seat to let Viv light her cig for her.
“Speaking of weed…I got that covered tonight. What else do we need? Eric said his parents don’t leave shit at the cabin so…we better make an official party list…”
She takes out a sharpie from her backpack, grabs Sean’s hand and started writing. Sean a little confused, filches away from her writing "Hey whoa, what the hell are you doing?"
Lyla tells him "Don’t move! You’re my human post-it note. First we need money for supplies…munchies…chips n’ dip…soda…et cetera…"
He says "This better wash off!" Viv scoffed tugging at his beanie
"Oh, shush.." Lyla ignores the banter and continues writing
"And of course, we must not forget…ZE BOOZE!!!" Viv chuckled taking his slightly paler hand into hers as she reads the list.
"I can probably snag a six-pack from dad if he’s got enough. Hey, did you ever think of maybe…just…sending a text instead?” Sean looked up at Viv, her brown eyes moved from his hand to him as she smirked
"Try not to think about it." She winked taking the cigarette out of her lips to blow the smoke out "I can ask Carl to bring some vodka, his dad stashes it somewhere in his house."
"Hmmm…Oh right! Blankets. It’s gonna get chilly tonight!…Oh, one last thing! C…O…N…D…O…” Lyla smirked as Viv let out a loud laugh, choking on the small amount of smoke in her lungs.
Aargh stop! You’re out of room, punk!” Vivian once again pulled his hand closer to read her eyes drifting to the small drawing of a dick in the corner.
"Is this how you see a penis? Damn, you should try and actually see one for real.” Vivian says
“You don’t wanna go down that road, dude. My chances of scoring tonight are probably…ten times yours.” Vivian raised a brow making Lyla laugh.
“These fucking planes, man…I wanna hate them, but…I’ll miss them so much if I move somewhere else. Shit changes so fast…I get so emo sometimes, wondering what’ll happen to us once we graduate. Will you both still be my BFFs? Will shit ever get better than 1452, Lame Avenue?” Vivian sighed listening to Lyla, letting go of Sean's hand she lifted her legs up fully to rest on the fence.
“Yeah, man. Friends forever.” Sean reassured her, Lyla wasn't convinced. “Yeah but…What happens if we go to different colleges? Or you two get sick of me? Whatever…”
"Dude, no way. There's a higher chance I get sick of Sean." Vivian shrugged as he turned around.
"Hey!" He slapped her shin making her giggled fighting his hands away.
“But for real, you heard of the Internet? No way distance can tear us apart. We’re freakin’ fighters!” Sean turned back to Lyla.
“Yeah, you’re right…Best freakin’ fighters forever…” Lyla stood up “OK, it’s getting way late and I gotta pick out my outfit for tonight, Viv, you coming?" Vivian shook her head
"Nah, I've got a few dresses somewhere in Sean's room." Vivian shrugged as Lyla winked dropping her cigarette to the floor, crushing it.
"Oh? Why are your dresses in his room?" She smirked, Viv scoffed letting her legs droop over again.
"Fuck you, Lyla." Vivian lifted up her middle finger, not noticing Sean's growing blush.
"Really? I thought we established Sean was the expert, ok, ok.. Skype later when you’re ready. Hugs!” Lyla hugged them
“Hello, Friday night…” Sean watches as Vivian pushes herself off the fence tossing her cigarette away.
Sean and Vivian heard laughter coming from the kitchen just as they walked inside His dad, Esteban says “Hey! Perfect timing! Just the person I wanted to see.”
Vivian smiled at him, setting her bag down beside Sean's.
"Nice change of hair, viv." Esteban watched her run a hand through her hair, her smile grew.
"Thanks, I got bored of the purple and orange." She shrugged, giving Daniel a high five.
“Did you see Lyla? She said we could go to the movies next week. She said…”
“Dude. Bug her, not me! You’re not exactly her type.” Sean groaned
“You’re lucky they put up with you…” Esteban says making Viv smile.
“Jeez, thanks pop. I feel really supported right now.” Sean raised his brows looking down at the floor.
“You’re welcome. And now we need an objective judge. That would be you!” “Really?” Sean asks. “Hey! No fair!” Daniel objects. “Shhhhh…Court is in session. Judge Diaz presiding over the case of the last Chock-O-Crisp.” Sean interrupts “We…we have to go…Uh…Get ready for a party and stuff.”
“Well if you want to attend a party and stuff…you have to earn it…your Honor.”
“Aww shit.” Sean grumbled, Vivian sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for him.
“Hey, he swore!” Daniel tugged on Viv's long sleeved ribbed top, she smirked.
“Yes, I heard, tattletale. Please Judge Diaz. Be an example to the court and society. Then you can go chill or…or…whatever! Now…Who deserves to eat this final…Chock-O-Crisp? Your adorable little brother who eats about ten bags a week…” Esteban tried to convince his eldest son, Viv chuckled. “Or your poor suffering father…who slaves over a hot engine to provide his family with a home and a garage?”
"Or.. your great and wonderful best friend who has to listen and deal with your problems 24/7?" Vivian moved closer to Daniel as she smiled ignoring Daniels protests.
“Me! Me! Me!” He shouted resting a hand on Viv's shoulder to leverage himself up. “Come on Judge…” He whined the three of them waiting for his response.
“Daniel is guilty of being a brat! So the Chock-O-Crisp goes to…Señor Diaz!” Viv groaned as the chock-o-crisp was handed to Esteban.
“What? No way! You’re a cheat!” Daniel grunted, Vivan nodded, her brows furrowed
"Yeah! No fair." She scoffed still grinning.
“Your Honor, I can’t let you punish an innocent man…So…” Esteban pushes the chock-o-crisp towards Daniel, Viv whooped with Joy for him.
“Yeah, I always knew you’d confess.” Sean shook his head, making Vivian laugh.
“Okay. Back to work. I hear an engine calling my name…And you better play nice together…Like you always do…” Esteban waved them off, Viv turned her attention back to Daniel.
“I have to go work in my room too.” Daniel looked at Viv hopefully "You want to come with, Viv?" He tilted his head as she smiled.
"Maybe in a little, dan. I still have to deal with your annoying brother." Vivian smirked as Sean groaned, shoving her slightly.
Just before Daniel walked away, he punched Sean lightly in the stomach, sending Viv into bursts of laughter.
“Yeah, don’t hurry back.” Sean groaned holding his stomach, looking over at the pink haired girl. "You encourage him, you know." He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.
"Do I?" She winked, pushing herself off the counter going to the kitchen to check what they could bring. "Go talk to your brother." Vivian waved him off smiling at his constant groans but listened going off to her brothers room. Whilst she texted Carl to bring 'ZE BOOZE'
“Yes, she wants to marry you.” Sean said in a teasing voice, Viv sighed.
“Shut up! And I don’t care if I can’t go…because…because…I have secret stuff to do…Alone!” Daniel sounded embarrassed
Sean yells back “Of course you do.”
Daniel peaked out the door then shut it again.
"Your an asshole." Vivian scoffed, fake pouting, putting her phone into her pocket he shrugged. "Go get the blankets, I'll be in your room." Vivian pulled out the six-pack of beers crouching down in front of her backpack.
"Yes mother." He rolled his eyes as she let out a loud, sarcastic laugh.
Vivian sighs opening his bedroom door, she loved that room. The trophies, the posters, his work uniform hung up on his wardrobe, The skateboard, Viv gifted him a few years back, she tried her very best to teach him... he's just a shitty student.. Viv's fingers ran over his old sketch book. She crouched down to pull out the box of her party clothes under his desk, a large label messily written probably by Sean, guessing from the writing, was on it 'Viv's party shit' her father was either too busy working to realise she was out partying, or too over-protective to let her out, she kept most of her more revealing clothes at Lyla's or Sean's house to avoid getting the belt from her mother. She heard the door open a close behind her.
"si no es el pendejo hermano." Viv teased, not bothering to turn around to face him, he just scoffed slumping down on his bed.
"I thinking... Mini Demin skirt." Vivian begun, throwing her skirt over to Sean letting his land somewhere on his lap. "..black tank top." She threw her top at him. "and... matching pink bra." She winked throwing her matching playboy panty and bra, he blushed furiously as he caught her bra.
"Wha-? When did you even bring this here!" He groaned pushing her clothes into a pile on the end of his bed, her bright pink bra on top as she laughed.
"Nothin' you aint seen before, nena."
." She teased, jokingly groping her boobs before she pushed her box back under his desk. "I wore it to Chris' party a few months back, I was wasted so I crashed here."
“Must be Lyla...” Sean grunted pulling out his phone, Viv was resting her head on his lap, reading some book of his small shelf, she moved away as he sat up, moving to his laptop.
“Hola, lovebirds…Just give me a minute! Gee, where did I put the…Hold on! Okay, hi! Did you get everything on your hand-list?” Viv rolled her eyes from his bed at the stupid nickname Brett gave them.
“It’s all in our backpacks, yeah. Daddy hooked me up with some cash, so…we’re set for the night. In case we need anything else…” Sean shrugged leaning back in his seat.
"Or incase if you and Vivian need anything else…Ooh la la!” Lyla winked, Sean went silent, his ears turning pink.
"Shut up, Lyla." Viv laughed, raising her voice so Lyla could hear her, Lyla's eyes widened from the camera as she stared at Sean.
“Sean, Sean! I’m done, look! I made zombie blood! It’s…um…corn syrup and food coloring…Hey! Hi Lyla!” Daniel smiled, bursting through Sean's door wearing a zombie mask.
“Get out of my room, Daniel.” Sean sighed, Viv closed the book she was reading.
“I was just…” His enthusiasm left his body."
“Come on, man!” Sean ignored how upset he looked.
“Just…” He continued looking down at the floor, Vivian frowned.
“Just bugging the shit out of me again after I told you to knock? Yeah, I know.” Daniel closed the door. Sean twisted round in his seat.
“Anyway…” he continued rubbing his neck
"What the fuck, Sean?" Viv groaned, leaving his room to follow after Daniel.
“Sean, you’re an asshole! What’s your problem?” Lyle scolded him, he sighed. "Well done, Im sure Vivian wants to get with a total douchebag." Lyla rolled her eyes.
"But…" he looked over at the brownish green box under his bed decorated with stickers, Viv's box.
"I want to see his zombie blood if you don’t…" Lyla cut him off.
“Sorry, sorry…I’ll make it up to him…He knows I can be a dick…I’m just stressed out about tonight…” He spoke up looking back up at Lyla "And we both already knew she wasn't going to get with me."
Lyla smiled. “Oh please…we are gonna have so much fun! Maybe tonight’s the night…" She winked at him "I saw the way she blushed when you pushed her and shit."
"Im pretty sure thats just cause its freezing outside." He corrected her as she 'psssh'-ed him. “Okay…So when are you coming over?”
Lyla says “I just have to hit up the Momster for the car keys and…hope she doesn’t make me lie too much about the party…I’m already in trouble from last time…”
“I didn’t mean to! Stop! Don’t touch it! It’s for Halloween! Leave me alone! I’ll call my dad!” Daniel shouted from outside the window, Viv pushed him behind her as she defended him.
"It was a fucking accident, give it a break Brett!" Viv yelled back, A hand on Dan's shoulder keeping him back.
"I wasn't talking to you, Slut." Brett growled, trying to push her away, she slapped his arm away.
“Hold on, okay? Something’s going on outside…” Sean's brows furrowed as he stood up from his seat.
“What do you mean? Hey!” Lyla asked as Sean went outside.
Brett was holding onto Vivian's arm as he shouted at the both of them, Viv moved her hand from Daniel to Brett attempting to push him back, her hand balled up his shirt as she kept pushing him away.
“What’s the big deal? It’s Halloween!” Daniel shouted from behind Viv.
“Hey! Don’t ever touch her!” Sean pushed him off Vivian, She sighed letting him go before going to check on Daniel. “You hear me, Brett?”
“Fuck you, Diaz! He got his fake blood shit all over my shirt…Look!” He pointed to the mess, Viv and Dan accidently created.
"Get over it, douche, it was an accident!" Vivian scoffed from where she stood.
"You shut up, fuckin' whore!" He tried to grab her again, but Sean stopped him.
“I told you it was an accident! You better leave us alone!” Daniel yelled.
“Oh yeah, go hide in your dad’s garage! Pussies! You think you own the block!” Brett snapped at them, Viv rolled her eyes.
“Dude, step back! He didn’t mean it, he’s a fucking kid!” Vivian shouted at him.
"Your just as bad, Perez. You might as well be a fucking tramp, 'puta' " He grunted, mocking her accent.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Vivian took a step closer, moving away from Daniel, Sean stood in the way of them.
“You heard me, bitch…” Brett scoffed, Viv's brows furrowed with frustration.
“Don’t ever touch her again!” Sean warned, pushing Vivian away.
“Or what? You gonna get your daddy?” Brett laughed, a smirk on his lips.
“Hey asshole! I don’t need him, to protect me from you!” Sean tells him, Brett lets out a snigger, before shoving him.
“Oh? You wanna go?!” He shouted back at him before he shoved him back.
"Sean!" Vivian yelled, looking back to Daniel for a second.
“Oh yeah, motherfucker?!” Brett crossed the line “Then go back to your own country.”
Sean punched him, Brett let out a cough before he tackled Sean to the ground.
"Sean!" Viv yelled, linking hands with Daniels, she tried to pull him away, he didn't move, sirens flash by as the car stopped.
“Okay…okay, step away! Now!” The officer spoke, Vivian lifted up her hands, letting Daniels go, Brett lay on the ground gasping for air, slight blood splattered on his face, his hands going to his stomach.
“Calm down, officer.” Sean's hands shook slightly
“Shut up! And step back!” The three of us back away from Brett. The officer pulls out his gun and points it at us. He commands “On the ground, Now!” Sean says
“Hey, wait…This guy was…beating up my little brother!”
"Sir, he was!" Vivian added, fear struck on her face.
"He started it!" Daniel looked like Viv, fearful.
"On the ground, Now!" The officer yelled at them, Vivian whimpered.
"Sean-!" Daniel cried out as they got onto the ground.
“This is fucking bullshit!” Sean added looking at the officer as he checked Brett.
"Mierda, mierda santa…" Vivian mumbled under her breath staring at the grass under her knees.
The officer moved the gun to Esteban, Their heads twisted round to look at him.
“Sean, what’s happening?” Esteban asked, Sean's mouth opened to speak but no words came out.
“Get on the ground, sir!” The officer shouted at him, gun still in his hands.
“Dad! We didn’t do anything, I swear…” Sean finally spoke up, all Viv could do was nod in agreement.
“Sean, be quiet…Officer, listen…” Esteban spoke calmly, the officer continued to shout.
“Shut up!” He screamed at him, Daniel and Vivian flinched at his words.
“I’m sorry, dad!” Daniel cried again Vivian went to comfort him, her hands still in the air.
“Be quiet! They’re good kids, officer.” Esteban looked at the four them on the floor and back at the officer.
“Don’t move!”
“We didn’t do anything…!” Vivian yelped from the floor.
“Daniel, it’s gonna be alright.” Esteban tried to comfort him as the officer swung the gun between them.
The sharp ringing, continued to deafen Vivian, Her hands going to her ears as the bullet shot out, Her eyes went to Esteban on the floor.
"Shit-" The officer spoke out, lowering his gun.
A large rumble started again, Viv woke up on her back. The officer was dead on the road, Sean was sobbing over Esteban's body, blood gushing out of the wound in his chest. "Oh fuck!" Sean yelled, The police car was flipped over, the fire hydrants were leaking, everything around them was a mess.
"Sean-" Vivian coughed out her hands resting on his shoulders, her eyes going to the unconscious Daniel on the gras.
"Sean, we have to go!" Viv pulled him away from Esteban, Vivian sighed as she went inside, shoving her clothes and the beers into her bag, she returned to Sean still sobbing with his unconscious brother in his arms.
puta , prostitute
si no es el pendejo hermano , if it isn't the asshole brother
nena , babe
Mierda mierda santa , holy shit holy shit
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Estelle and The Mark of Arachnid: The Trident of Poseidon (Chapter 8)
[First Chapter] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]
Chapter 8: Sam has the power of God AND Anime?
Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, fanbase series. Percy Jackson and the Olympians; Heroes of Olympus; Trials of Apollo; Kane Chronicles and Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard are owned by Rick Riordan. Spiderman or any concept of him are owned by Marvel Comics and Sony Entertainment. Please support the official releases.
“Come on, Percy! Let me join!” I yelled at Percy as he kept denying my request to join the event.
“Why not? It looks really fun!”
“Estelle, they’re gonna be using actual weapons and battle tactics in this game. This event is to train the kids for real-life situations against monsters or battles.”
“Oh come on, I learned a lot from yesterday AND learned some skills from Annabeth my whole life.”
“Estelle,” Annabeth intervenes, “I understand your frustration but this is something that only half-bloods like us can do.”
“Oh, so because I’m not special like you guys, I can’t join?!”
“That’s not what we meant,” Percy replied. “It’s just too dangerous for you. We have medical and healing materials that work only on Demigods. It won’t work on mortals like you. So because of that, you’ll risk heavy injuries in the process.”
I guess that makes sense, but I hate the idea of being pushed to the side because I’m some weak teenage girl. So what if I don’t have special powers or have demigod blood in me. Batman and Black Widow didn’t have powers yet they manage to fight alien invasions, super humans and powerful magical sorcerers. Though it’s true that they have training, money and resources. But there’s also other characters like Daredevil; Kate Bishop; The Punisher; Green Arrow; Nightwing; et cetera. I mean… they also had money and experience but…
Huh… No wonder Spider-Man is more relatable. He’s broke like all of us.
“I’m sorry, Estelle,” Annabeth said. “I promise to make it up to you. Okay?”
I shrugged but responded, “Fine, whatever.”
“Go meet up with the Demeter kids and help out with watching Luke and Silena, Okay? I’ll meet up with you in a bit.”
I sighed and nodded as I walked off.
Today is the day Capture the Flag begins. And like Percy said, I am forbidden to attend.
I hate it but there is nothing I can do about it. I don’t have the equipment used for CTF and Percy will not allow me to get any. I love my brother but he can be too much sometimes.
Yes, a demigod’s life is too much sometimes. But I saw regular folks like Sam and Dean Winchester fight against the impossible. I saw regular people stand up against alien invasions. I saw an ex-thief stand up against a multiversal conqueror and win. Were they fictional? Sure. But wasn’t Mythology as well? Couple of days ago, I didn’t believe it to be real. At this point, who knows what tomorrow would bring?
Ugh, I’m just so frustrated is all.
“Come on, Jessie!” Said a voice, I saw two girls heading out of the barracks, carrying gear for the games.
“Hang on, Penny. I need to find my sword.”
I hid behind a tree as the two went inside again to find her sword. They left their gear by the entrance and I noticed it has the same color as Sam’s gear, meaning they are in the same team as her.
Now I know what you all are thinking, stealing is wrong. Do the right thing and you will be rewarded. Well the last time I did the right thing, property got damaged; Percy and Sam got hurt and her dad died.
Sometimes you have to break the rule to do good things. Like Star Wars, if Luke stayed at the homestead, he’d never have saved the galaxy. If Anakin stayed in that Naboo Starfighter, he’d never save all of Naboo. If Rey stayed on Jakku, The Emperor would never have truly been defeated. Heck even life too! If Percy didn’t run off to the Sea of Monster, Camp would never heal. If Percy didn’t run off to find Annabeth, Artemis would still be captured. I’m probably going to get in trouble for this, but I won’t miss an opportunity like this. Still, I’ll be sure to leave a note as a way to apologize for my mischief.
After I grab a set of the gear, I put it on and strapped on the helmet so I don’t get recognized. I headed toward the area where the event is taking place and found the group Sam is grouped up with.
From what I recall, The game will include most of the campers of the camp, excluding Demeter; Aphrodite; Iris and Hypnos kids. The Demeter kids were tasked to watch over Percy and Annabeth’s kids until Annabeth comes back. Hypnos kids tend to be asleep this early in the mornings and Aphrodite and Iris kids were tasked to do chores for the day. If they're missing out on the game, they actually have something planned out for them later on in Summer. Knowing Aphrodite, they’ll probably do a fashion show or a silly love-match game. Iris kids will most likely practice magic involving communication since Percy told me that demigods struggle to communicate due to magic and monsters. As I reached and sneaked into the group, I noticed the Hephaestus and Apollo kids on the sidelines, ready to give medical support and replacement for broken equipment.
I know that there’s no children of the Big three (As far as I know) joining. So the rest of the camp is attending this game. As Chiron announces the game and explains the rule, I was looking for Sam.
“Welcome Campers, to the annual Capture The Flag event!” Chiron announced. “Now for all of you new campers this summer, let me explain the rules.”
Chiron explains how the game is to give us experience on tactics and combat so that when the kids are off to do quests, they will be prepared to face many challenges. Apparently they will also be using real weapons as well. Who’s idea was it to give kids deadly weapons during a camp activity? Why not give them foam swords or nerf blasters or just good old fashioned Paintball warfare?!
I need to ask Percy if anyone ever dies in these games.
Anyways, I found Sam who was also wearing armor and whispered to her.
“Psst, Sam!” I whispered.
“Stella?!” She responded. “What are you doing here?! You know Percy and Annabeth will get mad if you get involved with this?!”
“I’m not missing out on camp because I’m just a mortal girl. I’m gonna show everyone I can be strong too.”
“But Stella, you heard what Percy said. This is a dangerous life.”
“And yet you’re okay with that?!” I asked. “I’m not letting you go through this alone, Sammy. Just like the Winchester brothers, we’re in this together, no matter what.”
Sam usually likes to stay close with me since she tends to get bullied back in the day. But ever since the Vulture attacked us, she wanted me to stay safe and get stronger on her own. I kind of understand though, she lost her dad and right now, I’m all she has left.
After Chiron explained the rules, the campers split up and headed toward their flags. Our team, the red team, are strategizing on how to retrieve the other team’s flag. Several of the leaders talked about how to win and then decided on a plan.
The majority of the group will go on the offensive while a handful will stay behind and guard the flag. A classic tactic.
And guess where Sam and I are stationed?
Yep.
Guard duty.
“I risked getting into trouble just to guard a flag?!” I yelled.
Sam and I are stationed close to the flag while the rest are stationed a bit further but close enough to the flag.
“I mean, it’s better this way,” Sam replied.
“No it’s not! We should be out there, fighting other warriors and getting riled up! Not just simple guard duty!”
“Think about it, logically, Stella. We’re still new to this world, we’re not really ready to face what’s beyond this camp.”
“Well Percy did!” I said. I sighed and sat near a log.
“Stella, what’s really going on?”
Sam looked at me with concerned looks and sat next to me.
“Nothing, just… I hate that my whole life, my family kept this from me. Percy; Annabeth; The Zhang’s; The Valdez’s and even the fact that they KNEW Piper McClean! I told them how much she’s our most favorite actress and how badly I want to meet her!”
“They did it to protect you. Like dad did.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like that my whole family lied to me. They knew how much I enjoy mythology. I could’ve helped them out in the past! I could’ve given important info or something. But instead, I was left behind to attend high school while they go off saving the world!”
I ranted for a while as Sam listened.
“Stella, they just want to protect you because they love you. You know how Percy can be. Remember when we were kids, you heard him say ‘ow’ and you quickly grabbed a bandaid so that he could get better?”
I blushed at the memory.
“You have a big heart, Stella. Percy knew that; he figured you’d go far and wide for him and his friends.”
I shrugged. “That’s what family does, we’re there for each other through thick and thin. And that includes you, Sammy.”
I brought a fist out for a fist bump and Sam returned the gesture. Sure, we’re not out having an epic battle like Odyssey. But being here with my best friend is better than any epic moment.
Rustling noise came behind us and it was one of the campers we were paired with.
“We have a problem,” He said, panting. “Several of our members just spotted a small group heading this way. Looks like a small regiment managed to sneak off and are heading this way!”
A few more of our team members joined up and formed a barrier around the flag.
“You did say you wanted some action,” Sam responded.
“That I did, Sam. That I did.”
I had my shield and spear up and ready. The enemy's horn sounded nearby and we heard a loud cry of multiple warriors in the distance. Before I knew it, the enemies were charging at us. Several of our team members were already in combat against the enemy. Sam yelled out to me to watch out as one of them charged at me. She jumped and blocked their attack. Looks like all that training yesterday really paid off. Just as I was getting back up, I felt a strong tingle, like a sixth sense was reacting and next thing I knew, I rolled to the side just in time before an enemy fell right where I was.
I got back up quickly and headed toward Sam’s location. She was being overpowered by two warriors. I charged forward and slammed my shield at one of them, making them fly off at the distance. I was surprised at the distance he flew; since when did I gain such strength?
“Stella!” Sam yelled as she cut the warrior at the leg and slams her shield at their face. “Are you okay?!”
“I’m fine! Protect the flag!”
Sam nodded.
Several more troops arrived and our teams are still holding them off. But we were heavily outnumbered. Maybe sending most of our most valuable troops towards the enemy wasn’t such a good idea after all. We kept holding them off, but they were quite resilient. The weird thing is that you think I’d be hesitating or getting weak knees, except I wasn’t. I kept getting this strong adrenaline pumping in my blood, feeling that tingle whenever an enemy attacks and such immense strength when fighting back. I took down three more already and I’m still feeling great. What the heck is going on?
Anyways, Sam is actually doing really well. The training from yesterday really paid off, but she is still Sam so she’s been hesitating most of her attacks and flinches at every enemy's attack.
“Stay close to me, Sam!” I yelled.
The battle was fast and fierce, but we’re standing strong. Several of our members are down but a majority of the enemies are as well. Only one remained and he was doing well against both me and Sam. As we continued to push him back, Sam told me to go for his legs. So I ducked down, dropped my spear and shield and took out my knife. I sliced his legs as Sam grabbed his arms and judo flipped him to the ground.
I cheered.
“And that’s how we roll! Up top, Sammy!”
I had my hand out for a high five and Sam replied happily. I looked around and noticed that several of our team members are down and wounded but only two remain, excluding me and Sam.
“You guys okay?” One of them replied.
“I’m good, Tristan. You?” The other replied with a feminine voice.
“I’m good Becky. Thanks. What about you two?” Tristan asked us. I nodded and Sam replied.
“A bit beat but still standing.”
“Good,” Tristan sat down to take a breather. “That was too close.”
Becky nodded and smiled, “You two did great out there for your first time.”
“How did you know it’s our first?” I asked.
“Your gear is still shiny and new,” Becky replied.
I snickered and replied, “Oh? So we’re shinies then?”
As someone who watched the Clone Wars series, being called that will hit harder than Dio dropping a road roller on you.
Tristan scoffed at my comment, “For now, but in time, you might make it to Arc Trooper with those skills.”
We all laughed at that. I think I’m gonna have a great time here at Camp.
“Whatever you say, Captain Rex,” I replied jokingly.
Suddenly, footsteps were in the distance and the four of us stood instantly. All of a sudden, a shield fly by us and Sam and I dodged quickly by rolling out of the way.
One warrior jumped out of hiding and charged straight at me and Sam. Another jumped behind Tristan and Becky and attacked. The shield-less warrior relentlessly attacked me and Sam. We tried to counter attack but he was too fast and reacted quickly to our combos. He tripped Sam and then launched his spear toward my shield, forcing me to drop it. I still had the dagger I got from the barracks so I took that out and charged at him. Just as I was charging, that strong sense tingled again and I quickly duck and rolled before the warrior was able to slice his sword.
I sliced near his legs and grunted in pain. He was just about to punch me with his open arm but I quickly grabbed him and judo flipped him myself. I really gotta thank Annabeth for those lessons.
The warrior got up quickly but his helmet fell off, revealing his face.
“Mitch?!” I said. The warrior was Mitch, that jerk from yesterday.
He scoffed, “Estelle Blofis? I thought your big brother didn’t want his baby sister involved with the big boys.”
“Says the guy who’s getting his ass kick!” I replied.
Sam rushes in with her shield, hoping to knock Mitch out, but he was too fast and quickly disarmed her.
“Too slow!” He yelled.
He kicked Sam at the stomach and knocked her down.
“Sam!” I yelled before she fell down on the ground.
I look back and see Tristan and Becky still struggling with the other soldier, who turns out to be Daniel since he too dropped his helmet.
Looks like I’m on my own for now.
“Crapbasket,” I said.
“Just give up,” Mitch said. “This just isn’t for you. You’re not cut out for this life. Go back to high school.”
Every word Mitch says just makes my blood boil.
Mitch continued attacking me, but I was quickly reactive to all of his attacks. That sense that continues to tingle keeps me from getting hurt. I’m starting to wonder why this is happening; it never happened during the time The Vulture and The Minotaur attacked us or even when Percy and Annabeth were training us.
What the hell is happening to me?
“Hold still, you brat!” Mitch yelled.
“I don’t even know how I’m doing this!” I yelled. “I’m just dodging by instinct!”
Mitch swoops down and tries to trip me, but I jumped and somehow, I flew a couple feet back.
Panting, Mitch replied. “Gotta admit, kid. You got moves.”
Suddenly, I heard Tristan groan and saw both him and Becky on the ground. Daniel was still standing but barely; he’s a bit bruised up and tired out, but he’s still standing.
“It’s over, Estelle,” Daniel said. “Just give up. I promise that Mitch won’t go too far. I promise.”
I scoffed, “Fat chance, Daniel! I can take on both of you! I haven’t even gotten a scratch!”
“You heard him, Danny,” Mitch replied. “Time to teach the twerp about the real world.”
“Wow, a big tough guy is gonna teach a defenseless little girl like me about how cruel reality is,” I said sarcastically.
He rushed towards me, but I dodged quickly. Daniel was about to join in on the attack but Mitch ordered him to stay out of it.
“But Mitch-”
“I don’t care if she’s Percy Jackson's sister! She needs to understand what it means to survive this world!”
“And what’s that? Push-ups, sit-ups and plenty of juice? The ol’ Vegeta training?”
Again, Sam showed me anime and… let’s be honest, who HASN’T seen Dragon Ball? That’s definitely a must watch and that’s coming from me!
Mitch continues attacking, forcing me to back up since I only have my dagger. My spear and shield are around but too far to reach. All I can do is keep dodging, which is easy to do thanks to this sixth sense that keeps tingling.
I really need to get that check after this.
Suddenly, I tripped and fell from a small branch that came from a tree nearby.
“Crapbasket!” I yelled.
Before I could get up, Mitch already pointed his sword near my neck.
“It’s over. You lost, Estelle Blofis.”
I hated to admit it, but he was right. He was just more skilled and experienced than I am.
“Fine… I-”
WHOOSH
A strong gust of wind flew past us and was heading toward Sam’s location. It was spiraling around as she was slowly getting up.
“Sam?” I said.
The gust of wind kept getting more wild until a loud boom noise hit and burst the air outward. The crazy part was not just that, it was the fact that the wind went from a cooling breeze to a hot burst of heat.
We all covered our eyes due to the wind and when it stopped, we all faced toward Sam and something astonishing was happening.
On top of Sam was a sigil of an Owl.
As a huge fan of Mythology, I know what that means.
“Well then, congrats on being claimed, Samantha Stacy, Daughter of Athena,” Mitch said.
But I was still wondering about what’s happening to her. She got knocked down hard and fell to the ground, but she got back up like it was nothing. Her eyes were closed and her helmet fell off.
“Sam? Are you okay?” I asked.
Mitch walked toward her and waved his hand around her face. She did not react and Mitch shrugged it off as if she’s just sleepwalking.
“Probably out of pure instinct.”
Daniel replied, “I don’t know, Mitch. I’m feeling a strong presence on her.”
Mitch scoffed, “It’s nothing. Just a little tap and she’ll-”
WHAM
Mitch was sent flying away from Sam.
Daniel and I were shocked at the sudden action because Sam literally did nothing. It was just only a strong gust of wind that hit him. She then opened her eyes and…
To this day… I can’t forget those eyes.
Her dull gray eyes were brightened into sharp silver ones. Then a small light surrounded her, like an immense yet calming heat.
I can tell it was hot because I can feel it even from this distance.
“What the…” Daniel was speechless at the sudden change.
As for me…
“Sam… What on earth happened to you?”
#marvel#marvel reference#fanfiction#fanfic#spiderman#spider man#estelle blofis#OC#Percy Jackson#percyjacksonandtheolympians#heroes of olympus#trials of apollo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#Anime#anime reference
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Oh boy oh boy, I don’t need to be asked twice [rolls up sleeves]
Thank you, and thanks for the question! Since you asked, and since I’ve gotten a fair amount of new followers here and over at the webcomic itself over the past half a year, here’s a quick little rundown post!
Outliers is a webcomic about the people you never see in regular comic book stories. Most stories, really, but it tends to be particularly glaring in superhero and assorted other scifi/fantasy/etc. comic books. In a cliche comic world full of people with super powers and aliens and magic and mutant monsters and all sorts of other nonsense, it’s about people trying to live their dang lives without getting caught up in it all or becoming collateral damage.
Average human citizens, people with useless or unwanted powers who aren’t fit to be heroes/villains or who never wanted to be one in the first place, people who don’t have a chiseled superhero physique, people who aren’t straight or cis, people with disabilities, et cetera. A slice-of-life/romantic comedy comic about the, y’know, outliers of this society.
There’s an assortment of characters who star in it, but it mainly comes down to three main duos/groups as the main characters:
The main couple and stars of Outliers so far are Walter Corvi and Zachary “Chary” Milford. Walt’s a gay nonbinary man who has very strong super powers (he/they can turn into a giant wereraven bird monster) but who chooses to live as an ordinary citizen, and Chary’s a bi regular human dude who got caught in the crossfire of a supervillain attack and works as a lawyer who serves metahumans in need on behalf of their therapy group. They currently live in Port Exemplar, a big hub city and basis for metahuman law & regulation somewhere between Portland and Seattle. They’ve been dating for quite a few years now, are in their early thirties and are just trying to do their best, y’know? Please let them have a dinner date in peace.
Another main couple are Hector “Heck/Heckie” Barclay (née McCabe) and Jamie Barclay. They’re a Scottish married gay couple in their early forties, now living in the US. They’ve known each other since they were young children in a metahuman-prep school in Glasgow, where they were Sent Just In Case, though both of them have pretty useless powers and live as ordinary citizens. They’re asexual and Jamie’s intersex, and have A Lot of history together as they figured things out throughout their youth. Heckie teaches (very opinionated) UK history as a local community college a couple days a week, and Jamie was a rock musician with a bright shining future and rising star until his chronic pain & fatigue disability became too much and he had to retire.They’ve had some hard knocks but are pretty happy, and have a few kids to boot, Kirstie and Doug.
Last but not least, the third main group! Edmund Irving Rudyard Hawke II (more like 2.0) is the exact genetic clone of the original late Edmund Hawke, the very rich and very powerful and very evil CEO of Hawke Industries (think Lex Luthor and his ilk), artificially aged to twenty-something adulthood to take over the company, as per Hawke Sr.’s will. Much to the disappointment of HI’s Board Of Directors and assorted connected ne’er-do-wells, Edmund turned out absolutely nothing like his “father” personality wise. He’s sweet, cheerful, boisterously supportive, very aware of his privilege, and likes being with people and doing nice things for people. Grey-aro and extremely gay as well, but that’s beside the point. He has a rough time being stuck in a rough situation, but when a married trans couple consisting of Dustin Smalls and his best friend/wife/nesting partner Pam Flores cross paths with him and Dustin becomes Edmund’s personal assistant and Something More, things take a real turn.
These three different storyline threads will come together into one Some Day, which I hope I can manage before I’m old and decrepit! I haven’t drawn much recently and the Outliers comic hasn’t updated since December due to irl Reasons, unfortunately, but I can promise you all it’s still a thing. I think about these characters and my comic constantly, and have finally been getting into a place again where I can get back to working on stuff properly! Slowly, but surely.
Thanks y’all for the interest, and I hope you stick around to see what’s coming! I’m doing my best to make a comic about the sorts of characters and stories I want to see and that usually get pretty terrible rep, so here’s hoping it all goes well in the end!
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Oh, please elaborate!
Alrighty! So, I think we’re all aware that I’m not saying anything remotely new by saying that Voltron has some serious issues with its plot and pacing, particularly after Season 2. That’s, like, extremely well-trodden ground, everyone’s been yelling about it for a bit over three years at this point, everyone has opinions but the consensus is that it’s bad, et cetera, ad nauseum. I don’t need to retread it. However: this is a point I’ve been mulling on for the aforementioned three years, which I’ve never put out on this blog before— mostly because back in ‘19 it would have gotten me murdered, and because in ‘20 and ‘21 I was otherwise occupied.
The thesis, essentially, is this: Seasons 1 and 2 set up Shiro and Allura as the clear lead (or “keystone”) protagonists, and the failure to follow through on that is why Seasons 3-8 felt, oftentimes, like a janky, shambling mess punctuated with moments of “hey, what’s this interesting plot point doing in here?”
(under the cut, because this got long)
What is a “Keystone Protagonist”?
First, a clarification on terminology. Every narrative has characters in it whose functions are irreplaceable, and without whom the narrative just…doesn’t go. These are the movers and shakers, the team leaders, the people who are so intimately intertwined, from the very foundation of their character, with the plotline that removing them causes the plotline to disintegrate entirely. Keystone villains are easily identified— they’re the Big Bad and their second-in-command, and their challengers or successors as applicable.
A keystone protagonist, on the other hand, is most readily identified in a small, focused cast— they’re the Chosen One, frequently the POV character, always the one with the coolest powers or the visceral hook. They’re a little harder to identify in ensembles, but even the most far-flung ensemble has one or two characters who make the plot function, and they’re always the ones most tied to and shaped by the plot.
Looking at Team Voltron, the protagonists with the clearest ties to the main plotline are obvious. An Empire, led by a ruler twisted into cruelty, stretches its grasp across the stars to claim a superweapon hidden from them. A ramshackle group, led by the last surviving daughter of the first nation to fall to them, and an escaped prisoner who has seen the worst cruelties the Empire has to offer, rises to face them. Of the main protagonists, Allura and Shiro have faced the most visceral wounds from the Empire; Allura’s entire culture was destroyed while she slept in stasis, Shiro and his crew were abducted, kept as prisoners, and subjected to violence and torture. None of the other Paladins come anywhere near that kind of connection.
The rest of Season 1, and a majority of Season 2, plays this out exactly as it’s set up. Allura spends most of Season 1 rebounding from her loss and beginning to grow into both her powers as a sacred Altean and her role as a leader of Voltron. Season 2 centers Shiro more strongly, as he battles Zarkon for control of the Black Lion and the fate and future of Voltron. The two of them, together, take up the mantle of leadership— and bear it well, given their lack of experience.
And then the Season 2 finale turned it all on its head, and the rest is history.
The Deal with Keith
Structurally, Keith is interesting. He initially comes across as sort of a stock protagonist— the hotheaded, rebellious one, who needs to learn to actually work with the team— and the most interesting first impression of him is of his bond with Shiro. However, aside from that bond, he has no strong connections to the main plot; he’s solidly middle of the pack, below Allura, Shiro, and Pidge, but above Lance and Hunk— until the Season 2 reveal that he’s part-Galra and connected to a group of rebels who oppose the Empire, which introduces complications to the team dynamic right when they most need to trust each other.
The Blade of Marmora plotline, during which this occurred, is pretty widely acclaimed in fandom. I have no idea what the Paladin fans were doing during this time, but I know Galra fans were excited to have a little complexity to an otherwise monolithically cruel, unscrupulous, and violent antagonistic force. If they’d handled that reveal, and Keith’s new connection to the plot, a little differently, it had the potential to both up the stakes and complicate both the portrayal of the Galra and the protagonists’ morality.
You’ll have to forgive me a lack of links— I can’t remember what interview or interviews this next paragraph’s points came from originally, and frankly I don’t care enough to look it up or I’ll have to start yelling and hitting things instead of writing an analysis. Anyway. The showrunners said, at some point, that their reboot was intended to capture some of their nostalgia for Voltron: Defender of the Universe, and that this was meant to include a first-episode plot point— that Shiro would die (or otherwise be removed from command) and Keith would replace him as the Black Paladin. They pretty clearly accomplished this, to what is widely considered the show’s detriment.
The Breakdown
Three main factors contributed to the plot’s disintegration after Keith was moved into the spotlight. As a protagonist, Keith’s backstory and approach to the plot were unsuited to holding the keystone role; the divisions within the team that appeared during Season 3 and worsened after weakened the narrative focus; and removing Shiro and sidelining Allura unravelled the underlying themes and cut off plot threads set up in the first two seasons.
Keith and Shiro are first introduced to the viewer as close friends, from before the Kerberos mission. It’s heavily implied that Keith’s discipline issue, and subsequent dropping-out, from the Garrison were caused by Shiro’s reported death on Kerberos, his desperation to rescue Shiro in S1E1 The Rise of Voltron, and their subsequent rapport and mutual support and encouragement speak volumes. However, while Shiro spends most of the first two seasons stepping into his role as a leader and striving against Zarkon, Keith spends most of it in the background, until the Galra reveal comes to light.
And herein lies the trouble. Holding the reveal of Keith’s Galra heritage until the second season delays his closest tie to the plot— that he’s related, by blood, to the scourge grinding the universe under its heel— until well after the overall narrative and major players have been established. They could have easily fixed this by showing that hand earlier; having Keith know he’s part Galra from the very start, revealing that sometime after the midpoint of the season, and using Season 2 as part of the blowback from the reveal would have much more effectively established him as one of the leads, and made his background better able to support the plot by bringing it in immediately. Deferring it made it seem less important, especially as the fallout was curtailed by the strike on Central Command in the Season 2 finale rather than being given more time to play out.
Season 2 ends, rather abruptly, with Shiro’s disappearance. We open Season 3 with him gone and Voltron struggling without him, and spend half of the (albeit much shortened) season without him around at all. Keith founders in the new leadership role, and, as we’re shown in Season 4, ditches it as quickly as he can to go work with the Blade of Marmora. Aside from the obvious question— why remove Shiro at all, if only to bring him back and then oust Keith?— this causes other difficulties in balancing the narrative. Between the two of them, at least one is missing for six episodes in Seasons 3 and 4 alone.
As one might expect, this is a major faux pas for an ensemble cast. Removing one or more cast members from the screen, and having them develop elsewhere during that time, undermines the viewer’s attachment to and understanding of the character, in addition to destabilizing the ensemble’s dynamic. Additionally, the tug-of-war on command of Voltron calls things into question for the viewer: who is supposed to be in charge here, and why is it taking them so long to establish that chain of command? And if the group can suffer such a huge loss, and Lion positions be swapped so easily, why the big deal around having the appropriate Paladins? Canon seems disinclined to provide an answer.
This radiates out to the rest of the group as well. The Paladins of Voltron, established within the first two episodes as a group of psychically bonded warriors— a ready set up for a found family or battle-forged companions dynamic— collapses repeatedly as members leave and return. The group keeps fighting within itself for far, far more of its runtime than it should have— a not-insignificant portion of Season 7 is dedicated to how divided the Paladins are, over fifty episodes into the show.
Cut Threads, Loose Themes
The Paladins’ relationship isn’t the only thing to suffer from the power struggle. The first two seasons organize a delicate balance of narrative foils and a solid underlying theme, centered around healing from trauma, which is tossed repeatedly out the window in favor of giant robot fights over the course of the rest of the series.
Looking at the motivations of Seasons 1 and 2’s keystone characters— Allura and Shiro on the side of the protagonists, Zarkon and Haggar on the side of the antagonists— a dichotomy reveals itself. All four are incredibly traumatized characters; Zarkon, Haggar, and Allura by the chain of events that led to the destruction of Daibazaal and Altea, Shiro by the backlash of that event ten millennia later. The difference is this: Allura and Shiro both make strides towards coping with and recovering from that trauma, where Zarkon and Haggar have spent ten thousand years wallowing in grief and anger. The Galra Empire as a whole remains trapped in that moment of cultural trauma as Zarkon lashes out, his efforts fueled by Haggar’s unrelenting support and cruel inventions, unable to move forward from it. Even the Blade of Marmora are trapped by it— despite their best efforts, they still work within the framework of the Empire and are unable to stop the cascade of violence. Allura and Shiro, on the other hand, are both shown coming to terms with the harm they were dealt— Allura by coping with her grief and learning to let go of what was lost and move forward, Shiro by facing what was done to him and what he did and refusing to let it define him.
Laid out, this looks like the set-up for a narrative centered around cultural and personal trauma, one with Shiro and Allura at its core. The parts of later seasons which are most compelling— Lotor and Allura’s dynamic, particularly in Season 5, the parts of Season 7 where the protagonists as a whole must deal with the devastation wrought on Earth— also draw from this narrative around trauma and learning to heal from it.
Unlike Shiro and Allura, Keith’s trauma— around the loss of his parents, and, one would assume, the loss of other members of the Blade— is never explored or played out on-screen. The narrative dances around it at best, or outright removes it at worst, such as by the introduction of his mother, Krolia, in Season 5. This, I suppose, foreshadows in the worst way the ultimate thematic undermining: the restoration of Altea and Daibazaal during the Season 8 finale.
…Anyway. Let’s not get into that.
Let’s talk foils.
I’ve mentioned them twice now, actually— and, for all its flaws, VLD is actually pretty good at drawing parallels between its protagonists and antagonists. As mentioned above, Allura and Shiro serve as direct thematic foils to Zarkon and Haggar, both as pairs and one-on-one. The most obvious comparisons, of course, are Shiro and Zarkon and Allura and Haggar— two Black Paladins, one seeking to use the role to grasp for power and control others, the other using it as a tool to bring peace; two powerful Altean alchemists, one using her abilities to twist and destroy, the other using it to soothe and heal. The parallels work the other way, too: Zarkon and Allura are both leaders devastated by the loss of their people and home, Shiro and Haggar both suffer amnesia and physical alterations from their trauma and have grown around those wounds.
Additionally, Shiro and Allura both have another antagonist foil in Sendak and Lotor, respectively. I’m certain I’ve already delved into Shiro and Sendak’s relationship somewhere on this blog, but I’ll touch on it again briefly. Both seem to be (as portrayed in Season 1) relatively new leaders, both stubborn and tenacious, gifted fighters, and both having suffered massive physical trauma and been augmented afterwards in specifically weaponized ways. Season 1, particularly S1E9 Crystal Venom, frames them as a pair of darkened mirrors— a change of circumstances, and one could readily be the other.
Allura and Lotor are a bit more complicated. Both are the only children of a leader of a member nation of the original Voltron Alliance. Both are driven, charismatic leaders with specific goals, and both are also driven by personal curiosity and a desire for knowledge and power. The divergence is in the details— Allura was beloved by her father and encouraged towards her strengths, while also being sheltered by the peaceful circumstances of her youth; Lotor faced parental disapproval and routine rejection, and his natal environment encouraged stubbornness and often cruelty. This plays out obviously in their approaches to leadership; while Allura is open, honest, and direct, Lotor uses subterfuge and misdirection to hide his intentions.
You notice, of course, that Keith is absent from this discussion. Keith has no narrative parallels to any of the aforementioned villains— he’s not in contact enough with any of them to really compare, not even to Lotor, who was a temporary ally of team Voltron— and quite literally undercuts Shiro’s connection to Sendak in Season 7. He doesn’t contribute anything to any of these dynamics, and the only time he’s present for one, he destroys it.
#asks#vld meta#not quite sure id call this#vld salt#but ill tag it anyway for safety#apologies for the delay; i had a dnd session to run before i could get my meta written up#and in a way that was more...analytical and charitable rather than just bitching#anyway!#really if theyd wanted Keith as a lead they should have established him as BP in the first season rather than establishing Shiro first#and since they established shiro and allura first they should have kept the spotlight there instead of trying to move it#no one is well served by this narrative switchup and im actually still sad about it bc it had the potential to be REALLY GOOD#and it just wasnt
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MLM!Cullen Fic Rec List
Inspired by this post. Here is my fic rec list of some of my favorite fics with queer Cullen. Happy Pride :) 🏳️🌈 🏳️🌈 🏳️🌈
Cullen/Dorian
Only True in Fairy Tales by Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: In which Dorian is a special forces operative, Bull is his partner, and Cullen is the guy they're sent to rescue. Hijinks ensue. // Words: 110150
Modern AU. Dragonflies_and_Katydids makes me read the weirdest stuff. But their work is always captivating. The more ridiculous set up the better outcome, I promise. This one is both ridiculous and absolutely perfect. And somehow one of the very few modern au fics in which Cullen's lyrium addiction is well transfered without making it literal.
Fashionably Late by tsurai
For the tumblr prompt: Cullen/Dorian Soulmates AU? <3 "Maker’s breath, this is absolutely the worst timing, he thinks distantly." // Words: 1038
This is but a tiny thing but I'm a sucker for a soulmate AU. Would I love it more if it was 150,000 words? Yes. But I'm just greedy.
COLD HANDS, WARM HEART by spicyshimmy, stonelions
Summary: Cullen and Dorian's friendship deepens. Cullen is a romantic. Dorian is literally cold. Cullen is no longer certain what he would consider surprising. Mages and Templars working in perfect cooperation, perhaps. Evil and corruption disappearing into the ground along with the blight, blood magic falling so far out of favor it ceased to be. A united Thedas: that would be a surprise. // Words: 25369
I think this is most recced Cullrian fic and for a good reason. Slow burn, drama, all the delights.
Light In This Darken'd Time Breaks by RamonaDecember
Summary: Cullen wouldn't say he hates mages, not anymore, but he can't see himself ever trusting one again. Dorian is no exception. The mage is off-color, self-important, and all together too much for Cullen to deal with. So why is it that every time Cullen is at his lowest, Dorian seems to be the only person by his side? // Words: 121289
Slow burn with 121289 words, what more do you want?
Cullen/Bull
Jump In by Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: In which Cullen is almost terminally awkward, Bull and Dorian are literally brothers (because why not?), and Bull tries really hard to be good. Or: In which Dorian tries to set up his brother and his roommate, if he can avoid killing them for being so clueless.
(You might get cavities from reading it. Don't say I didn't warn you.) // Words: 33700
What did I say about Dragonflies_and_Katydids and ridiculous premises? But if you're as delighted with awkward Cullen as am I - enjoy.
Dragons from Stars in an Empty Sky by Midna_Ronoa
Summary: The one in which Bull takes Cullen dragon-hunting. // Words: 10423
Fluff and smut and dragons!
Stuck on the Puzzle by thespectaclesofthor
Summary: Once, back in Kirkwall, Cullen had an arrangement with a member of the city guard that satisfied his needs. But time changed all things, and he despaired of ever finding a similar arrangement again - that was, until he met The Iron Bull. Problem being that Bull seemed to care far more about sorting out the nitty-gritty of such an arrangement than Cullen ever has. // Words: 235586
No fic rec lists that can involve Bullen canot do without Stuck on the Puzzle. If you haven't read it - please give it a try. As far as I'm concerned - the best fic in the fandom. And definately one of the best fics in general. <3
Cullen/Dorian/Bull
Exit Light by Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: In which Cullen is suicidally depressed, Dorian is a high-functioning alcoholic, and Bull just wants them both to be happy, except when he wants to crack their heads together for being emotionally stunted idiots. // Words: 77427
This premise is actually very close to canon, compared to some other stories by the same author recced here. The angst? Delightful. The smut? Delicious. The exploration of issues? Delectable! Cheff kisses all around.
to burn cool and collected by toomanyhometowns
Summary: Dorian hums. "Here is the function of the spell: Upon invocationne, ye caster's spyryt shal sterte to ye form of whomsoever mofte recently achieved releafe by hys hande." He taps the page in punctuation and looks back up. "And then there's a lot of text about the vast joys we may experience together, et cetera, et cetera." // Words: 16121
Ok, this list shows more than anything that my main delight is issues and angst wrapped in with porn. Anyway - cracky premise (body swap!), and angsty, sexy outcome.
Hold by queeniegalore
Summary: Everyone knows Cullen doesn't trust magic. But he trusts Dorian and Bull, so maybe they can make this work. // Words: 6654
Issues? Trauma? Kink? I'm a one trick pony when it comes to recs.
Cullen/Cole
Okay now that we’ve gotten the obvious out, let’s enjoy the trully unexpected enjoyment.
Into The Light (Cole/Cullen Ficlets) by Sinister_Kid
Summary: A series of what I hope are tasteful Cole/Cullen fics that don't exploit or overly sexualize Cole's developing character. Based on a prompt I filled out of boredom in which I imagined the spirit actually hearing someone's pain like a physical noise in his ears that caused discomfort. Explores the option of making Cole more human, with my own original take on how that affects him as a character, and depicts Cole developing romantic feelings for the Commander as he discovers what it means to be human. // Words: 20454
I admit I don't often read Cole shippy fics but this one stays true to the info in the summary and it is careful and tasteful. Also Cullen learning to speak with Cole properly - <333
Cullen/Varric
Verse & Volley Triptych by boycoffin
Summary: POSSIBLE TITLES:
This Shit Was Even Weirder: A Surprisingly Not-Doomed Romance In The Shadow of the Apocalypse
The Commander and the Rogue already taken, Antivan maritime smut with an elf girl in it
How The Hell I Ended Up With That Guy: A Tale for The People Who Keep Asking Me About It In Bars
The Short and Curlies that's just terrible
Love Among the tropey garbage
A Tale of Two Names pretentious and unclear
The Penman's Paramour
Memoirs of a Moron (That He's Going to Regret Publishing and Will Never Hear The End Of for As Long As He Lives) // Words: 133354
One of the very few fics in which I can not only accept but love 1st person POV. Crack. Slow-burn. Pennames. Lovable OCs. DELICIOUS. Also a fic that made me start this blog, so love all around.
Cullen/Krem
Last but not least, my delightful fave (maybe, possibly, probably) and involving a shameless self-plug because it’s the month of pride.
Swordplay by orphan_account
Summary: The Bull's Chargers are undisciplined, untested, and unprofessional; but Cullen can't stop thinking about their lieutenant. // Words: 3910
I have a soft spot for whoever Krem being shipped with not knowing he's trans at first. But also oblivious, pining Cullen <3
If you have been starving, a creature of bone by missivesfromghosts
Summary: Cullen is content with where he is. He has a life and a purpose. He’s doing the Maker’s work and he’s cut the Chantry’s leash on him. He barely thinks about the fact that he’s trans anymore. The last person who knew he was born anything different, barring his sister Mia, died during the Blight. This works for him.
That is, until he starts falling for Krem. // Words: 769
A tiny thing but I have a soft spot for the idea. Also what's better than a ship with trans character? A ship with two trans characters. Keep that in mind for further recs actually.
Sweet, Merciful Andraste by Tainaron
Summary: PWP. Honestly, Cullen should invest in walls and a ceiling that don't have holes if he's going to keep having such loud sex.
Pure, unapologetic smut between trans men who love each other. // Words: 4187
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ What more do you want from me? Sometimes porn is just porn. Enjoy.
Champions of the Just by Tainaron
Summary: En route to Griffin Wing Keep before the battle of Adamant, Cullen falls prey to an injury that reveals a shameful secret about his trauma with magic. As Cullen struggles with his past, his duty to the Inquisition, and his love life, he becomes increasingly uncertain if he’s the target of an assassination attempt or just his own personal demons. // Words: 67885
Well, I also have some plottier and angstier fics in my rec disposal. This one actually explores the problems Krem and Cullen could encounter in their relationship and all within the canon plot line. Plus bonus points of Cullen actually interacting with other Chargers.
cabbage: a love story by psikeval
Summary: Krem’s grin fades into a quiet smirk, his eyes warm and amused, and Cullen does not forget how to move his legs because he is a grown man, a leader of soldiers, commander of the Inquisition’s army.
He breaks the silence by coughing loudly, because he is also an imbecile. // Words: 18932
Creme de la creme of Krem/Cullen fics <3 Fluff, crack, porn <3 This delightful series has it all!
#fic rec#pride month#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#cullen rutherford#bi cullen#cullen/krem#bullen#cullen/bull#culrian#cullen/dorian#culric#cullen/varric#cullen/cole#rec list
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a criticism of chibnall era doctor who but i don’t hate women
this is gonna be a long read. i’m adhd and i know how hard this kinda shit is to read, but I worked super hard on this and i’d appreciate it if you gave it a chance :) tl;dr chris chibnall hasn’t bothered to develop any of his characters past two dimensions and it’s left the show wanting. also this is all my opinion you are legally allowed to disagree with me no hate mail please and thank you
I’ve been a fan of Doctor Who for a long time. Not as long as some, mind, I was two years old when the reboot began airing. I’ve never seen Classic -- I’d like to, just haven’t had the time, which is ironic -- but I don’t think that makes me any less of a fan.
For a long time, Doctor Who has been one of those “nerd things,” yknow? My dad knew somebody in high school in the 80’s who dressed like the 4th Doctor every single day. Scarf included. Not that my generation was any better -- I had a friend in middle school who wore suspenders and a bowtie for like 2 months straight until they got tragically “lost in the wash”. Doctor Who demands attention from its fans, and rightfully so. It’s a whimsical space romp with all the best elements of sci-fi. It’s funny at times, and heartbreaking at others. It explores so much, and by its nature, is constantly changing.
That changing nature is why it chafes with nerd culture so much, I think. Nerds HATE change. Just think about how star wars fans are every single time new content drops. And Doctor Who is changing every single episode. The title character is an ageless, godlike being who can change their face and personality almost at will. Companions come and go, as do writers, composers, directors, et cetera. It’s Theseus’ ship. Or Theseus’ TV Cult Classic, I guess.
So when a fan complains about “doctor who isn’t the same anymore” or “[blank] ruined doctor who”. Of course it’s not the same. If you want consistency, this is not the show for you. Things are constantly retconned, resurrected, developed, and then undeveloped, done and undone, and then done again. That’s something I’ve always loved about it. The constant change means that if you don’t like the show at one point, you’ll just have to wait a few years and maybe you’ll vibe with it again. Gatekeepers can’t really talk about the “real” canon because there is no real canon.
All this being said, let’s get into what the Chris Chibnall era is doing wrong.
Let’s start with Team TARDIS, or as the Doctor likes to call them, her fam. I like them, I really do. I think the actors are incredibly talented and they obviously have fun making the show together. The problem is, well, it’s in the writing.
The fam are extremely two dimensional characters. We meet them, we’re told basic facts. Graham is a retired bus driver. Ryan has dyspraxia. Yaz is a cop (why??). The audience doesn’t learn much about their personalities, their goals, their ideals. We don’t really get a sense of why they want to travel with the Doctor. Sure, they want to see all the wonders of the universe, but what else? Amy was running from her wedding. Rose was escaping a life she found unsatisfactory. Donna wanted to be appreciated. There’s almost always another reason why they travel, and that reason is integral to who they are as people. Sure, the audience is told the fam’s reasons, but what the Chibnall era doesn’t understand is saying something doesn’t make it true. You have to show it. And you have to trust that your audience will understand. You can’t spoon feed them through clunky dialogue the whole time.
We’re told that the fam are friends, that they trust and love each other, that they like being around one another. We’re told all this, but we’re not SHOWN it. Their interactions remind me more of three people sharing an UberPool and chatting with their wacky driver. In past seasons, we’ve seen those friendships develop. The Doctor meets somebody. They have an adventure. They invite that person to come along. The person agrees. The person learns that life with the Doctor isn’t as glamorous as they’d thought and are often freaked out by the fact they don’t know much about the Doctor at all. The companion challenges them, argues, demands to know more, and through this, they become friends. For Rose it’s The End of The World, for Martha it’s Gridlock, Donna, Fires of Pompeii. Amy, The Beast Below. I could go on.
(she just sits down and stares him down. martha jones i love you)
I honestly think Ten and Donna are the best example of platonic soulmates ever written on TV. She’s not in the least bit attracted to him, and she loves him deeply, and he loves her the same way. Donna is there for him after he loses Rose, she convinces him to keep going. She challenges him in Pompeii, not intimidated in the least by his whole “Last of the Time Lords” schtick. And in return, he shows her how brilliant and capable she is. She doesn’t believe in herself or her abilities, but he treasures her input and her company. She loses all of that in the end, but while she’s there, they have fun together. They are believably best friends, but the narrative doesn’t keep having to say, “Hey look at these two best friends!!” Instead, we see it in their interactions, in what they do for each other, in how they solve problems together.
We get something similar later, with 12 and Clara. With 11, Clara doesn’t often stand up to him or tell him off, and that puts a barrier between them. They’re friends, but it’s distant and awkward at times.I could write eight more pages about my problems with Clara in series 7. Her role in that season is so fucking stupid. I hate the impossible girl stuff. When 11 regenerates, though, I think that’s when Clara’s character arc really takes off. She’s distrustful of 12 at first - and rightfully so, he’s kind of a dick in Deep Breath - but by the end of the episode she’s accepted that he’s the same Doctor and still her best friend. And she’s his; Twelve, the emotionally distant, no-hugging Doctor, calls Clara his best friend out loud.
Clara’s arc later in Series 9 is her becoming too much like the Doctor, almost forgetting that she’s human, and that leads to her death on Trap Street. In her own way, she becomes her own Doctor, travelling the stars in a TARDIS with a companion, and she’s allowed as many years of adventures as she wants before going back to trap street. Series 9 Clara is leagues different from Series 7 Clara. She grows and changes so much over her 2 and a half season run. (Quick sidebar, I’m not saying these seasons are perfect. I could write a whole other essay about the problems with the Moffat era. Hell, I might do if this one gets any notes. Kill The Moon is un-fucking-bearable except for the one scene where Clara rips the Doctor a new one. Peter Capaldi and Jenna Coleman played so well off each other, even when the writing of their seasons got… Moffat-y.)
Chibnall doesn’t seem to follow through on a lot of stuff, actually. I think the best example of this is Series 11, Episode 7, Kerblam. Woof. This episode frustrates me to no end. I remember, actually, the week before the episode came out, I was chatting with some friends on Discord about how excited I was for another anti-capitalist episode. Doctor Who has a lot of these, Oxygen from Series 10 being the most recent.
But then the episode aired, and it literally resolved with the Doctor talking about how “The System Works! People Are Just Using It Bad!” And… no. The system’s working exactly as it should. Kerblam was so strange because I felt like it was setting up for that anti-capitalist message, and then it does a 180 halfway through to suck Amazon’s dick. I don’t know if the network made them change it, or if it was just shitty writing, but it’s unsatisfying. The Doctor also… leaves and allows the antagonist of the episode, Charlie, to die in an explosion, which just seems very un-Doctor-ish. Again, I don’t know if it was shitty writing or if it was an intentional choice, but I didn’t like it.
Something similar happened in the next season with Orphan 55. Holy shit, that episode had the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It also tried to make the viewer feel personally responsible for global warming, which is just fucking stupid. Global warming is the fault of corporations. Hence why anticapitalist episodes are so popular with Doctor Who. And literally nothing is gained by making people working minimum wage jobs feel bad about not doing enough to stop global warming. It’s just such a cold and privileged take which was forced directly down the viewer’s throat. You have to show and not tell. The Doctor’s speech at the end of the episode really just shows us how much Chibnall trusts his audience -- which is to say, not at all.
We haven’t gotten any complex character arcs from the fam, I don’t think, and it’s left the show wanting. They have stories, but they go unexplored and underdeveloped. The companions aren’t given much to do at all, which sucks because there’s three of them. The TARDIS feels almost crowded. Don’t get me wrong, I love Yaz, Ryan, and Graham, I really do, but I’m just… not as emotionally invested as I have been with other companions. As a result, I’ll be honest. I don’t totally understand the people who ship 13 and Yaz. People who do ship them are 100% valid, of course, but I just don’t see it. I’m not opposed to Doctor/companion romantic relationships; I’m a big fan of romantic Doctor and Rose, and I liked romantic Doctor and River (which is to say, my personal fanon Doctor/River where River has a real character arc). The difference is River and Rose both knew the Doctor very well. They knew who they were, what they’d done. The Doctor shared their feelings with both of them, Rose especially. I feel like with how secretive 13 is, and where she is emotionally, I really don’t think she can do a romantic relationship right now. Also, as I said before, I barely believe 13 and the Fam are truly friends, I wouldn’t really be able to believe a romance.
I hope series 13 changes my mind. I’m a lesbian, I would LOVE a romance between two female main characters in my favorite show. I want to be able to root for that to happen. As it stands now, though, between the lack of depth from Yaz as a character and the Doctor’s emotional unavailability, I just can’t. (All this being said--let 13 kiss a girl!!) I was hoping we’d have a Yaz character arc since it would just be her and the Doctor, but they’re adding another white man into the mix, so we’re gonna have to see.
I don't think Chibnall really thinks about the consequences or implications of a lot of the choices he makes in his writing. I think he’s decided on a story that he wants to tell and doesn’t care what comes of it after he’s done telling his story.
[Deep breath] I’m talking, of course, about the Master.
Spoilers ahead for series 12.
The Master is reintroduced at the very beginning of Series 12. He’s mostly there to kickstart the Timeless Child arc - more on that later. The reveal that O is the master is one of my favorite scenes in the Chibnall era so far. The Doctor slowly working out that he isn’t who he says he was had me on the edge of my seat, and then when the Master realizes he’s been made, he immediately drops the act and you can actually see the 180 degree alignment shift on his face. Kudos to Sacha Dhawan for that, cause holy shit. I want to reiterate that all of the actors in these seasons are incredible, and they’re doing the best they can with what they’re given.
No, my problem with the Spymaster doesn’t lie with Dhawan, I think he does an excellent job portraying the Master’s general chaos. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, my problem is once again with the writers. Sidenote, as I wrote this, I kept trying to put this particular topic off because a.) I hate it and b.) it makes me SO angry. But I was three pages into the Google doc and I just needed to rip the bandaid off.
Remember that fun part in Spyfall part 2 where the Master, currently being played by a person of color, wore a nazi uniform and like, colluded with nazis? Uh, yeah. Hey Chris? Uh, hey. Hey Chris? Chris?? What the fuck was that??
I’ll be straight with you, Chris. I’m Jewish. I’m gonna be uncomfortable with any scene with nazis. Seeing swastikas in any setting sets the fucking Kill Bill sirens off in my head. Putting the Master in that position was not in any sense okay. He wears a nazi uniform AND uses a perception filter. But why does he need both? If he has the perception filter, he shouldn’t need the uniform. That implies that he’s literally just wearing it for fun.
The Master is, and to my knowledge, always has been, a silly and campy villain. In Series 3, he turns the Tenth Doctor into a very old man for… seemingly no reason? Just to fuck with Ten, I guess? Then he turns him into a wrinkly Dobby-man with the worst special effects I’ve ever seen on TV to date, including the Season 2 Buffy werewolf costume. And then after that, he literally CHOOSES to die in the Doctor’s arms to prove a point while the Doctor screams and cries over him. Holy shit. Total whiplash. The RTD era is absolutely off the shits, I love it.
Sure, John Simm’s master is… incredibly evil. He murders millions and takes over the planet. Then later he, uh… eats people? End of Time is a weird episode. I don’t like him much as a character, but I think he’s a good villain and a good foil for 10. My favorite Master that I’ve watched so far is Michelle Gomez’ Master. I LOVE Missy. She’s fun and chaotic and evil (and pretty), but her goals have shifted from world domination to purely fucking with the Doctor, which I think is far more interesting. In Series 8, arguably the only season she’s an antagonist in, she says as much.
“I need you to know we’re not so different!”
If you’re still reading this, and you haven’t gone to my inbox to call me some slurs on anon because you disagree with me, thanks! I appreciate it. But now, regrettably, I’m gonna have to make everybody mad.
Let’s talk about the Timeless Child.
I feel like I should warn for spoilers again, just in case. MAJOR Series 12 spoilers ahead.
Possibly the most divisive thing to happen to the Doctor Who universe in at least the past 25 years, The Timeless Child is the reveal that the Doctor isn’t a Time Lord. They’re an eldritch being from another dimension who, we assume, can regenerate endlessly. The Time Lords of Gallifrey experimented on the Doctor as a child, eventually finding a way to allow themselves to regenerate using the Doctor. The Doctor has had many lives that she doesn’t remember at all, even meeting one of her past, pre-Hartnell selves who had been Chameleon Arched and hiding in Gloucester as a woman named Ruth. I will say, I liked the Ruth!Doctor. She was cool, and I hope we see her again on the show, or maybe that she even gets an audio series or spinoff. That’s one pro to the Timeless Child stuff - it opens up the extended universe of Doctor Who even wider than it already was. Presumably, at some point in her future, Ruth!Doctor’s memories will be erased and she will be forced to regenerate into a child, thus beginning the story we know about the Doctor.
I’m not 100% sure how I feel about this storyline yet. I haven’t made up my mind. I will say, a lot of people who don’t like it see it as changing the Doctor’s entire backstory… but… I disagree. The Doctor we know, the one we have known since the 60’s, was raised on Gallifrey and believed they were Gallifreyan for, what, three thousand years? Do we even know how old the Doctor is now? That’s besides the point. They’re still our Doctor, the one who stole a TARDIS and ran away, the one who traveled with Susan and Sarah Jane and Ace and Rose and Bill. They’re still the alien who went to see the stars and fell in love with the human race. I really don’t think it changes much of what we already knew, but it does make their past a mystery, which I think has the potential to be good if done correctly.
Again, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this storyline yet. Series 13 is gonna have to work really hard to convince me, to sell me this huge universe change for my favorite show. I was worried that it was just a dumb, convoluted way to give the Doctor unlimited regenerations, and then Chibnall would just brush it under the rug and move on, but Revolution of the Daleks actually gave me hope. 13 had a deep, insightful conversation with Ryan. I can’t find a clip, but it was a really nice conversation. That was an excellent scene in my opinion. That’s the kind of conversation we should have gotten back in Series 11. The Doctor tries to push it off, but Ryan does something unprecedented for a Chibnall character. He challenges her. He insists that they talk about it, and they do. The other interesting thing is 13 admits to feeling angry. This incarnation of the Doctor rarely shows any emotion other than bubbly excitement. It’s a direct opposite to 12, who often used his anger to show the gravity of a situation -- think Zygon Inversion war speech.
But 13 doesn’t often let her emotions show, so her admitting to Ryan that she’s angry is… big. That’s what gives me hope. Chibnall, the king of not following through, is hinting at Emotional Followup. I might be setting myself for disappointment again, I don’t know. I’m willing to give the Timeless Child stuff a chance. Doctor Who canon doesn’t have much grounding. It’s a massive, horrifying mess and everything contradicts everything else.
People who hate the TC stuff and want to Marie Kondo it out of their personal canon are valid, as are people who love it and accept it as canon. That’s something the Doctor Who fanbase -- and fandom spaces in general -- really need to learn. Different opinions are okay. Not everyone is going to agree with you all of the time. We need to be more accepting of different opinions in media, so long as those opinions are not harmful.
Chris Chibnall, on the other hand. Chris, I am speaking directly to you. Don’t screw this up. Don’t bone this one. You’ve boned two seasons so far, Chris, and if you bone another, I... don’t know what I’ll do. But I’ll be really sad, so.
I’m begging you, man. Here, I’ll even give you a free storyline you can use! If you recall, Chris, in Series 9 of the television show you are the head showrunner for, Doctor Who, the 12th Doctor, as portrayed by Peter Capaldi, banishes Rassilon and the rest of the High Council from Gallifrey. This implies that leaving Gallifrey is possible, and other Time Lords or even other Gallifreyans could be out in the universe. In my opinion, it would be very interesting if the Doctor ran into some of these people, most likely Rassilon and the High Council, somewhere in the universe. It turns out that they found out that Gallifrey was attacked again (because you and I both know, Chris, that planet isn’t staying destroyed forever) and worked out that the Timeless Child cat is out of its metaphysical bag. I think it should be revealed that THEY sent the Judoon after her and sent her to prison because they’re scared of what she’ll do now that they don’t have any power over her. And the Doctor said she’s angry. Let her be angry. Let her find the High Council and tear them a fucking new asshole. They’re afraid of her, but they don’t need to be, because she’s the Doctor and she’s not a god, nor a vengeful one. She never has been, and this new information isn’t going to change that. I want the narrative to SHOW that she’s still the same Doctor. She isn’t her genetics, she isn’t their lab rat, she is her own person. That’s something your Doctor has struggled with. She doesn’t seem to know who she is. Make her realize.
After that, get on your knees and beg Michelle Gomez to reprise her role as Missy. Have her come back to the show, post the Cyberman ship they were on in The Doctor Falls. She knows about the Timeless Child and she knows that the Doctor knows because the Dhawan! master was her previous regeneration. Have her apologize and let her tell the Doctor that she tried to stand with her and wants to continue to do so. Maybe let them kiss, I don’t know.
You should also let Yaz see the Doctor’s darker side. Let her realize that the Doctor isn’t a god, or a superhero, or a perfect genius. She’s a person. She’s flawed. She has questionable morals sometimes. And she’s so, so old. She’s lost so much. Let Yaz see that. Let her do what other companions have done and challenge the Doctor. You keep telling the audience that they’re such good friends. Now show us that. Give Yaz more character and a significant character arc. She’s been here for two seasons, and I feel like I barely know her. Oh, and have her quit being a cop.
The Doctor should deal with the information she’s learned. She should relearn who she is. Because she’s not perfect. She’s just a person passing through, helping out, learning. An idiot with a box and a screwdriver. She’s not always a good person, but she always tries to be. She’s been dozens of different people for God knows how many millenia. She is all of them. That’s what her confrontation with the High Council should result in. And let Jack come back again and allow the Doctor an honest, emotional conversation with him. He of all people should understand, since he left the Time Agency because they stole two years of his memories, and he knows the burden of living forever better than anyone. They’ve known each other for so long, let them reminisce about Rose and the good times they had together. Reaffirm their friendship. Reaffirm who the Doctor is. She depends on her friends. For the Doctor, in this season, I think those friends are Jack and Missy. I think they understand her and what she’s struggling with. In my perfect world, you would bring back Rose and River as well because I love them (I just think they’re neat!) and I think they could help her. Or someone else from Classic Who, I dunno. The Doctor feels as though her world has changed. This season needs to show her that it hasn’t.
And basic criticisms, Chris: stop being so fucking preachy all the time. You don’t need to spoon feed the message of the episode to the audience. I realize Doctor Who is often a show aimed towards kids, but kids are so much smarter than we give them credit for. They’re not stupid. I promise they will understand. And not every episode even needs a message! You’re head writer for the dumbest, wildest, best sci-fi show on the planet. Just make a goofy sci-fi episode. Doctor Who episodes that are just stupid and fun are good. Boom Town. Unicorn and the Wasp. Flatline.
And take more risks. I understand that casting a woman as the Doctor was a big risk, but for fuck’s sake, quit being a coward. It’s been nearly three years. People are used to 13, they’ve accepted her. Timeless Child was a risk, but it wasn’t a fun risk. Do a weird anticapitalist episode. Bring back an old monster other than Cybermen or Daleks. Have an episode with, I don’t know, the Racnoss or the Ice Warriors or the Silurians or something. Come up with a fun new monster. You have so much potential there that you just don’t use. Be better. I know you can be a better writer, man. If you can’t do any better, well, then maybe it’s time to step down and let someone else take the reins.
I’ll always love Doctor Who. It’s been an interest of mine for well over a decade. I’m not giving up on it, but these seasons have just failed to grab my attention or my emotions, and quite frankly that makes me sad. There’s so many options moving forward. I have hope that this show can hook me again. The writers just need to try harder. Hire more women and people of color and lgbt+ people. A diverse cast of writers will always make a show with diverse characters better. Segun Akinola is an excellent composer. Utilize his music more. This scene clip of 13 escaping the matrix at the end of s12. had the Doctor Who theme in the background. Which was fine, I guess, I love the theme. (Fun fact: the theme was realized by a woman with the same first name as me!) but Akinola wrote this theme for 13 and I don’t remember it ever making an appearance in the show. It would have been perfect for that scene!
https://open.spotify.com/track/1kNyixkRpA8QEN7SFzPCeG?si=23e74ae95320427e
Series 13 has so much potential. I truly believe that. I have so much hope. Please don’t let us down again. I’m not just being a pissy fan. I know there’s literally hundreds of these posts and videos and whatnot complaining about these seasons, but again, I’m not here to complain about it getting “too political” or “ruined by sjws'' because that’s bullshit. Doctor Who has always been political. All I’m saying is I think you can do better. I know you can do better.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much, holy shit. I really appreciate it. You can come talk to me about this in my inbox, or shoot me a message, or whatever. Just… please don’t be too mean to me. I already get enough anons calling me slurs. This is all my opinion. I know not everyone is going to agree with me, and like I said, you are welcome to whatever opinion you have so long as it’s not harmful. We’re all here because we love this stupid, wonderful show that takes us through all of time and space and made us fall in love with the stars. Let’s hold our show to the standard and hope for better.
Thanks for reading.
#a criticism of chibnall era doctor who but i don’t hate women#doctor who#doctor who meta#doctor who criticism#thirteenth doctor#yasmin khan#ryan sinclair#graham o'brien#rose tyler#river song#chris chibnall#chris chibnall criticism#op#delia.txt#meta
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May I please have some Eremin Hades/Persephone au? With Eren as dread Persephone and Armin as the overworked king of the underworld?
SIX MONTHS IN THE GARDEN OF HADES
i.
In a strange twist of fate, the lord of the underworld was five foot five and had a shock of blond hair.
“You kidnapped me!” Eren sounded incredulous. He scowled at the person - barely older than a boy - whose office (realm?) he had just been thrown into. The blond boy, seated at the ornate desk, looked up from his paperwork with a bored expression on his face. Eren stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and collected himself, managing to sound incredibly composed despite having just fallen through a crack in the earth and tumbled right down to hades. “That’s so wrong. Wait till my sister finds out - you’ll be dead.”
That sounded like a threat, but it struck Armin as terribly ironic. He laughed. “I’ll look forward to it.”
If looks could kill he guessed that the glare that the other boy had shot him might have actually struck him dead, but he was the god of the underworld and of the dead and honestly? Trifle things like that didn’t matter.
So he dismissed the glowering boy with a flick of his wrist and went back to poring over his spreadsheets.
ii.
When they next meet Eren’s hands were sticky and he wished very hard that he could cough out his last meal.
Armin glanced up at him, then back to his work. “I’m guessing you had some of the fruits from my garden?”
“I was hungry,” Eren protested. “You don’t even have -”
“Six months.” Armin interrupted. He didn’t look up, still scribbling as his eyes scanned over the reports and administrative data. Why do people keep dying? he wondered, briefly, before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “You don’t even need food. But you’ve eaten them, you do the time, that’s just how it works, et cetera. Besides, didn’t anyone ever warn you?”
“Fuck you,” Eren replied.
iii.
Wandering around the palace grounds, which were not entirely to his liking, being all dark marble and jagged rock - as well as gaudy displays of gemstones and glittering metal that made his eyes hurt - Eren found himself settling by the shallow pool and watching his reflection in the black water.
It seems like a cruel trick, to make the earth open up and take him here and then just...leave him alone? What was Hades even thinking? And why was he a lanky teenage boy? That was possibly more confusing.
Suddenly, a mop of blond hair appeared behind him. He jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said accusatorially to the figure, frowning.
“Sorry,” Armin offered. Up close he looked far less intimidating - beneath the grand robes his shoulders were rounded and he was skinny and rather small. His clothes seemed to overwhelm him. His wide blue eyes were deep-set and there were tired, dark circles against the pale flesh of his face. He drew in a long breath and sighed. Eren noticed that he was biting his dry lips nervously.
“Walk with me?” the lord of the underworld asked. Despite himself, Eren obliged, nodding slowly and letting the boy help him to his feet.
They made their way through the sprawling grounds in silence, trodding through the soft earth. They walked past abandoned gazebos with doric columns, round a winding path with dead and rotting trees and grey leaves which crunched underfoot, away from the black obsidian building which loomed across everything in the landscape. The dead fluttered around them.
Eventually they came to a pier. Armin leant against the railings, gaze fixed on the river. The water was dark as it rushed and churned underneath them. Eren watched him for a second then looked away. Off in the distance he could see the glowing lights of Elysium.
Slowly, haltingly, the other boy began to speak.
“Sorry about…” Armin trailed off. “It was stupid. I should have just asked - we could be friends properly. But now - it’s the seeds, you see. Six of them, six months. We're bound by precedent, unfortunately.”
Ah, there it was again. Who knew the god of the dead was such a stickler for rules?
And then he was off again, turning away and moving through his realm. Eren followed, and they walked on in silence. Eren looked upon the craggy rock and trampled flowerbeds and the overgrown hedges on the edges of the estate, and frowned.
“Your palace sucks,” he blurted out, characteristically blunt.
It was Armin’s turn to be startled. In fact, he looked positively scandalised. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve got like, all the gold and precious metals and stuff but it’s just too much,” Eren supplied.
A pause.
“Also the palace looks evil and the gardens are dead,” he added.
Armin opened his mouth to object but closed it again.
Eren, ever the opportunist, quickly followed up: “I’ll forgive you - and your terrible taste - if you let me just have the garden,” he said, gesturing around meaningfully. “By the time summer comes I’ll have it all fixed up.”
Armin dithered, but picked up the pace, widening his strides.
“You owe me,” Eren pressed breathlessly, running to catch up. “You were the one who started it.”
Armin seemed suitably chastened. “Fine,” he huffed out.
Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, even as he was careful not to let the boy see.
It was getting late - a mist had descended upon the land and it was beginning to get cold. Eren found himself shivering in his thin clothes, goosebumps creeping across the length of his arms. Armin must have noticed, because he pretended to stifle a yawn and said, “We should get back.”
And then, before he could protest, the lord of the underworld - Hades himself - draped his thick coat across his shoulders, and was already ahead of him, bare shoulders stark against the night as he turned on his heel and moved briskly in the direction of the ugly, evil palace. Eren clutched at the velvet that clung to him. It was surprisingly warm against his skin.
It became a routine of sorts, walks in the morning and at night, bookending their days. On one nighttime walk, when the precious stones embedded in the cave’s ceiling had glinted like stars, he’d strayed too close to the blond boy and the backs of their hands had brushed. His heart had skipped a beat, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, or even if he did, he didn’t say anything. And anyway, they’d gone back to their separate chambers as usual - Eren right to bed and Armin back to his office.
iv.
They’d just finished their morning walk, which had led back to the mess of the office, when another one of the servants had unceremoniously dumped yet another pile of papers on Armin’s desk. Eren could see the veins starting to stand out on his forehead, the thick pulsing blue under his pale, luminous skin, before he buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly.
“It’s clearly stressing you out,” Eren said, perched on the corner of the desk. “Here, let me,” he reached for the sheet right on top, marked ‘URGENT’, and for once Armin didn’t try to stop him.
“It’s the review cases,” Armin groaned into his palms. His voice was muffled but indignant. “I’m really not convinced we should change their sentences every thousand years, but since they’ve developed the constitution and instituted rights there’s apparently no such thing as eternal fate anymore.”
“This one?” Eren pulled open a scroll, scanning it. “Another king. Oh - this guy’s seriously fucked up. Cooking his kids?”
“Yeah - which is why I thought it’d be poetic justice to have the whole ‘water he cannot drink’, ‘food he cannot touch’ schtick. But apparently he’s shown some potential for reformation so that’s now out of the window. As are cruel and unusual punishments.” Armin groaned again and let his head flop to the side, blond strands shifting about the jet black table. His cheeks were pressed onto the countertop and it was almost comical, Eren thought - and in fact, deeply humanising, watching Hades moan about his job and suffer from overwork. He felt a pang of feeling - something - for the small blond boy, caught up with the entire mess of processing souls in the afterlife.
And so it might have out of a fit of compassion that he dropped Tantalus’ file, letting it flutter to the floor, and came up behind Armin to rest his hands on his tense shoulders. And it was probably out of a swell of sympathy then that he let himself press his thumbs firmly right into the space between Armin’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out across his narrow back and warm neck. Working at the tense knots, until he felt the other boy relax into him.
v.
It was the tail end of winter, while a blizzard tore across the surface of the earth and frost marked the ground, when Armin had summoned him for dinner. This was something new; he had made no mention of food - much less a meal - before, except for the second encounter where he’d pronounced Eren’s fate. Besides, he was right: they didn’t exactly need to eat, though Eren supposed he’d appreciate a good dinner if it were offered to him. And Armin had explained that the rest of the food wasn’t binding, so he also supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what fruits of the earth the underworld could offer.
As the door to the dining hall swung open he was greeted with an opulent sight. His let his eyes scan over the candlelit room with its long table piled high with more food than he’d seen in his life. There was a literal cornucopia as the centrepiece. Armin was at one end, waiting expectantly. His head was resting casually against his fist, blond locks soft against his features. For once he was without paperwork, the entirety of his attention focused on the boy who had entered the room.
“Is this a date,” Eren said, voice rising, but not quite a question.
Armin shrugged noncommittally. “Your time here’s nearly done. It’s been five months - I thought we should commemorate it.” His voice was even, but in the dimly-lit room it would have been impossible to tell if he were blushing anyway.
“Soppy,” Eren said, under his breath, but he let the servants offer him a chair and settled into it, hands already curling around the outermost set of cutlery before him.
After a full dinner of winter vegetables and hearty stews - plus much, much dessert - they retired to the drawing-room, warming themselves by the glow of the crackling fireplace. Eren had shifted himself to the floor and was slumped against the legs of his chair, while Armin sat in a big armchair, leaning right into the cushions. Cerberus lay between them, heads resting on Eren’s lap and tail wagging lazily across the carpeted floor. He let his hands brush over the dog’s smooth coat and scratched him behind his many ears. He looked up and realised Armin was watching him quietly. The soft light danced across his features and his blond hair was like a golden halo. He looked the furthest thing from an imposing god, the lord of the dead. In the orange light he just was: a slender boy, almost-man, with bony knees and silky hair, large eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. Body relaxing into his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire and filled with a good meal, enjoying the moment and the presence of someone else.
Armin caught his gaze. “Thank you for today, Eren,” he said softly.
Eren scoffed. “Sentimental bastard,” he whispered, and by the firelight, he swore Armin’s blue eyes had crinkled at the corners and his round mouth had curled into a slow, soft smile.
vi.
The plants that Eren had carefully, lovingly sown were coming to fruit, putting out rosy apples and dark velvet figs. They hung low on bended branches like teardrops and had to be harvested quickly before they turned soft and overripe. Eren was spending longer days in the garden which he’d carved out for himself, tending to his crops and reaping the bountiful harvest which he piled around him: lush and speckled gourds, bright fuchsia pomegranates, waxy yellow lemons, tender red berries and grapes in frosted hues, which all lay languidly in wooden crates waiting to be savoured. His favourite were the peaches, which were round and ripe in his hands and whose blush matched the pink in his cheeks as he worked tirelessly at the land. And of course he had a soft spot for the grain in its multitude of forms. The long stalks tickled his face and he brushed them away absentmindedly, even as his hands worked to pick the tiny seeds from their dried heads and shuck the full ears of corn that filled the rustling fields around the obsidian castle.
He was digging up the jewel-toned carrots when Armin found him. He had rested a foot on his worn shovel, pressing it into the soft earth, and had paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. From the corner of his eye he spotted a blond figure approaching the edge of the plot, black robes rustling against the freshly tilled dirt.
Armin slowly made his way up to him. He’d grown, somewhat, in their time together, but he was still small and lithe and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he spoke:
“Um. Today’s the day. You can leave if you want. I mean…it’s been half a year, hasn’t it?”
Eren watched as he shifted his weight from left to right, and then back again. He’d been thinking about this a lot. They both had. And he had decided. So he merely laughed, turning slowly to wipe his hands on his slacks. He reached for the fruit piled high around them. The ripe pomegranate bruised easily under his fingers as he twisted it open.
And its juice was warm and sweet, trickling down his mouth and lips, as he bit into the soft flesh of its ruby red insides and swallowed its seeds.
--
here you go, anon! you've asked and i've tried my best to deliver. this was tremendously fun to do so thanks for it:") i’ve put it on ao3 where i might tinker a bit more with it...so watch that space.
and please feel free to ask more :”)
#Eren Jaeger#eremin#armin#armin arlet#eren#snk#aot#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#greek myth retellings#hades and persephone#fruit & homoerotic undertones lol#askbox prompts
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If you’re feeling up for it could you please do 3. “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, love.” With Roman and Janus. Thank you!!
(Wow, you all really like roceit, huh? This is my sole prompt for today as I caught up on homework instead, but I’ll be back tomorrow, if canon doesn’t break me)
Words: 3981
“Okay,” Janus said. “What’s wrong?”
“What?” Roman flinched and pulled at his apron. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Hold on a second,” Janus told the customer in front of him, who opened their mouth to ask a question. Janus made a zip it gesture before pushing off the counter and dragging Roman into the storage closet. The door automatically closed, and Janus kicked the wedge into the gap before it slammed.
Hidden among racks of coffee beans, Roman seemed to relax. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward to kiss Janus quickly on the lips.
“You okay?” Roman asked when he pulled away. “You look stressed.”
“Of course I am, I’m on barista duty.” Janus glanced at the door. He could hear the customers babbling, but if this was an emergency, they would survive without a dead-eyed barista to hand them coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“What, do I need an excuse to see my boyfriend?” Roman placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “I love you!”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Janus said, though he allowed himself to preen at the affection. “You’re harried and there’s coffee all over your apron. And you’re supposed to be lifting boxes. What happened?”
Roman sighed and deflated like an old balloon. “The shadow demons are holding the place hostage again.”
“Again?” Janus groaned. “What is that, three times this month?”
“Yep.” Roman popped the p.
Janus sighed and glanced at his feet. “What do they want this time?”
“Dunno, but I can assume the usual.” Roman waved a hand. “Annihilation and destruction and blood to drench the floors, et cetera et cetera.”
“Great. This shift was too quiet.” Janus untied his ponytail and retied it, pulling all the strands taut. “Any casualties so far?”
“The coffee machine stopped working again.”
“Those bastards.”
“I’ve been telling you to get an exorcist,” Roman said. “Honey, this is just going to keep happening.”
“Am I in charge? No! Ask Patton, whenever he actually shows up.” Janus rolled his eyes. “Besides, exorcists are scam artists and religious nuts.”
“We have demons,” Roman pointed out. “You can believe in shadow demons, but not in exorcists?”
Janus rolled his eyes again. “That’d be a large chunk of the budget. If it matters to you so much, ask Patton.”
Roman huffed. “I’d much rather talk to you! Because I like you!”
“Sap.” Janus glanced at the door again. “We’d better hurry. What’s the details of this one?”
“Runes on the basement wall. Can’t decipher them. Virgil’s guarding the door to make sure nothing escapes.”
“Runes. Should be easy.” Janus wiped his hands on his apron and wished he’d made himself a shot of espresso. Saving the coffee shop was always easier while buzzed on caffeine. “Lead the way, darling.”
“Gladly!” Roman grabbed his hand, kissed it, and pulled Janus out of the storage room. They passed a clamoring crowd of customers, and Janus soaked in the final glimpse of sunlight. It was a busy day. All the more reason to solve this problem before it threatened any customers--they didn’t need another one-star Yelp review.
Of course, they could just move. Or, probably more reasonably, burn the cursed place to the ground and stab the ashes. No good could come from a shop so deeply filled with shadow demons. But Patton insisted--through email, the few times he actually responded--that the place had value to the community. Janus doubted that, but he wasn’t paid enough to object.
Capitalism. The only reason he took this job. It had seemed too good to be true that they were hiring without any previous experience. And, as Janus feared, it was.
Still, perhaps it would be good for his resume. Worked as manager-by-default at Spirit Cafe. Practiced at taking orders from no one, fighting shadow spirits, bartering for the life of an unlucky intern, and making espresso.
“Capitalism,” Janus complained as Roman led him downstairs.
“Yes, love, I know.”
The basement was two levels--the first was called the ‘chocolate factory,’ and the second, ‘spider hell.’ Roman had named the first in a burst of whimsy after rereading the Willy Wonka book. The second was self-explanatory. The second was also home to most of the demons.
When Janus passed the few employees around, they gave him a do we have to evacuate look. He responded with a don’t think so, keep toiling for the man look. Roman gave them all a perky thumbs up.
The second set of stairs were too greasy to make out their color. It was old legend that the posters and artwork grew older the farther you went--the cafe on the top floor was fresh and bright, and the chocolate factory was decorated with motivational posters that were splattered with coffee. Spider hell was devoid of intact decorations. Just old photos with faded edges, a few outdated certificates of health, and torn motivational posters.
For example, the poster on the door to spider hell. It had a kitten image, and was probably supposed to say Hang in there! The bottom was torn off. It just said Hang.
Roman opened the door and bowed dramatically. Janus sighed, kissed Roman’s cheek, and entered spider hell.
The hallway itself was clean, if a bit too reminiscent of fluorescent middle school halls. Most of the doors didn’t open. Janus kicked one as he passed, and the narrow window glinted back at him. Door, door, old bathroom with moths around the lights, door, mysterious graffiti--
Virgil, who breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the door to the boiler room. His apron was tied around his waist like a sweater. Behind him were several wooden rods, a few floorboards, and balled-up motivational posters, all jammed against the door to keep it locked.
“You’ve been busy,” Roman said. “Is that a folding chair?”
“I had to be careful!” Virgil pressed closer to the door. “I’m too young to die! I was gonna steal some metal from the pipes, but Janus would have been mad.”
“Correct,” Janus agreed. “We’re going to deal with this situation, alright? You can go cover for me upstairs--we need another barista.”
“I can leave?” Virgil whooped. “Oh, thank fuck, I’m gonna get the hell out of here. Have fun.”
“We will!” Roman said.
Virgil saluted them, then raced down the hallway. “Gonna expect a pay raise for all this!”
“Take it up with Patton,” Janus yelled.
“Don’t blame things on your imaginary friend!”
“He’s not--”
The door slammed behind Virgil. Janus turned to Roman petulantly. “He’s not imaginary. I’ve seen him. Once.”
“Sure,” Roman said.
“Ugh.” Janus rolled his eyes. “Why do I keep you two around?”
“Well, Virgil’s the coffee machine whisperer! And I’m devilishly handsome.” Roman winked at him. “You can’t resist, dearest.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Janus turned to the door. “In we go?”
“Into the breach, dear boyfriend.”
It took several minutes to pull the obstacles off the door. Virgil had managed to pound nails into the doorframe, probably in sheer panic, and Roman kept pausing to nurse splinters. Janus pried the folding chair from the door, tore off the posters, and kissed Roman’s hand when he asked. Finally, the door was clear enough for Janus to force it open.
An unwritten rule at the coffee shop was to keep flashlights everywhere. Behind every door, on every table, and in every pocket. Janus pulled his own out of his apron. Roman did the same.
At first, the boiler room looked normal. The huffing pipes, tossing steam into the corners, and the grimy concrete floor. Then Janus’ flashlight skidded onto the wall, and the beam illuminated a series of runes burned into the plaster. Each letter was about the size of Janus’ head, and the edges were rough, like they’d been clawed there.
“No blood,” Janus noticed. “They’re losing their touch.”
“I’m assuming that’s a message.” Roman walked forward and squinted at it. “Can you make anything out?”
Janus tried to put the squiggles into some kind of order. It looked like a few dozen letters, but he couldn’t be sure, because they blended into each other and made his head hurt. “I have no idea what that says.”
“Darn.” Roman folded his arms and flickered his flashlight on the runes like a strobe light. They did not magically coalesce into something coherent. “Logan’s not here, right?”
“He’s off-shift.” Janus thought for a second before pulling out his phone. “I’ll text him.”
“What if he’s busy?”
“The customer is always right, and always comes first,” Janus said while unlocking his phone. “Customers don’t want to die. He can spare a moment for us. And I’m his manager-by-default, so he has to do what I say.”
“Fair,” Roman said, giving Janus the you’re very cute when you’re in charge smile.
Janus would have teased him about that, if they had time. Instead, he just shot Logan a text. Can you decode something?
Half a minute passed.
This is important, Janus texted.
Ten more seconds with no response.
I will fire you, Janus texted. We’re all going to die, Janus texted. This is an emergency, Janus texted. Our deaths will be on your conscience if you keep ignoring me, Janus texted.
“Maybe he just hasn’t seen the texts,” Roman pointed out, leaning over Janus’ shoulder.
Answer me or I swear I’ll fucking find you, Janus texted.
“Dearest,” Roman said.
“What?”
Before Roman could say something endearingly naive about ‘compassion’ or whatever, Janus’ phone buzzed.
What do you need? Logan had texted back.
Janus held up his phone and took a picture of the runes. Fortunately, they showed up on camera. The picture still mysteriously corrupted mid-message, but when Janus re-sent it, Logan sent back a thumbs up.
What does it say? Janus asked.
Logan typed for several seconds. Finally, Janus received a small wall of text. He skimmed it, closed his eyes, and opened his eyes again.
“That’s not English,” Roman said hesitantly. “I’m not losing it. That’s not English, right?”
“I think it’s Catalan.” Janus sighed and thumbed out a response. That wasn’t English, try again.
Apologies, Logan responded. I’ll try again.
Janus waited impatiently, watching the small white dots as Logan texted. Roman dropped a kiss to his forehead for no apparent reason. Janus did his best not to blush.
Finally, Logan sent a small paragraph, followed by English?
Yes, good job. Thank you.
No problem. Stop texting me more than once or I will block you.
How dare you, I am your manager.
No response. Janus resolved to discreetly spill coffee on Logan’s shirt on their next shared shift.
“What’d he say?” Roman asked, impatiently jumping from foot to foot.
Janus skimmed the paragraph. “It looks like a riddle. ‘What walks on two legs--’”
“Human,” Roman interrupted. “Oh, that’s an easy one!”
Janus shook his head. “‘What walks on two legs in the air, eight legs on the ground, and more legs the longer you look?’”
For a second, they were both quiet.
“That’s not a human,” Roman finally said, a bit weakly.
“Humans don’t tend to gain limbs, you’re correct.” Janus let out a breath. “Analogy or not, human is not the answer.”
“Then what is it?” Roman turned to the wall again. The letters dripped like burns down the wall. “We--I’m assuming they want us to solve the riddle.”
“Yeah.”
“Why a riddle?”
“Sometimes you get bored,” Janus said. “I get it.”
Roman looked incredulously at him.
“The bigger question is what happens if we don’t guess it,” Janus continued, tapping his fingers on his phone. “Definitely something good.”
“And how much time do we have?”
As if by agreement, they both looked back at the door. It had slammed shut. The only light were their flashlights, illuminating the hulking boiler and the dustiest corners of spider hell. No spiders yet, but it was only a matter of time. Janus could almost hear them rustling.
“That’s not going to open,” Roman said, his voice pitched up. “Is it?”
“Only one way to make sure.” Janus strode over to the door and tugged on the handle. It was like tugging on a concrete wall. “Congratulations, you win a prize.”
“Wonderful,” Roman exclaimed. “Fabulous! We’re trapped here!”
Janus stepped back and rammed his shoulder into the door. The only thing he achieved was shoulder pain.
“I’m gonna call someone.” Roman pulled out his phone. The blue light trembled over his face. “Get us out of here.”
“We haven’t solved the riddle yet!” Janus protested, giving up on the locked door. “Solve it, and we leave, and the shop won’t be in danger.”
“I’d rather be alive, thanks!”
“Coward,” Janus murmured, scanning the room for immediate threats, and finding nothing but shadows and cobwebs. That didn’t mean nothing was there. It just meant they still had time. “We have to keep the shop from burning down, it’s the bare minimum of our jobs.”
Roman ran a hand through his hair. “And what’s it to us? I hate this job, and so do you.”
“Patton would fire me if I didn’t--”
“So get fired!” Roman burst out in frustration. “Let this place go up in smoke, I don’t care!”
“There are people in here! We need their money!” Janus waved his hands around. “Capitalism!”
That made Roman snicker, which made the tension settle, which made Janus smile back.
“You can leave if you’d like,” Janus allowed after a moment. “If you can find a way out. I can try to solve the riddle on my own.”
“What? No! We’re in this together.” Roman grinned at him. “If my boyfriend is stubborn enough to face down shadow demons like an idiot, I’m going to be an idiot with him.”
“Charming,” Janus said sarcastically, to avoid saying something extremely sappy. “You truly know how to treat a man.”
“I do!” Roman smiled wider and gestured at the runes. “A very smart man who will definitely solve this riddle!”
Janus nodded and turned back to the wall of runes.
Two legs in the air, and eight legs on the ground. It must be an analogy, like the original riddle, but what could air and ground represent? Imagination and reality? Or perhaps the legs were the metaphorical parts--
“Go Janus!” Roman cheered quietly from behind him.
“What?”
“I’m encouraging you!” Roman made jazz hands. “Solve it! You can do it, dear!”
Janus snickered and rolled his eyes.
“Go Janus,” Roman whispered.
Janus tried to focus on the riddle again.
Maybe he should research it. Logan clearly didn’t have an answer, or he probably would have included it with his text, but Logan was still a good problem-solver. Janus should have asked what language it was in. Janus should have confirmed the translation. Janus should have given Virgil a backup plan.
There was no use psyching himself out, though. This was another routine afternoon. He’d come out victorious a dozen times before, and there was no reason he wouldn’t keep up the streak.
Two legs in the air, eight legs on the ground, and more legs the longer he looked.
Janus looked harder.
And he saw legs. And hands, and claws scratching at the cement.
Oh, yay, just what he’d wanted! It must be his birthday.
“Roman,” Janus said slowly. “Do you see that too?”
“What?”
“Look very closely.”
A long pause. Then a loud “Fuck!”
“You see it?”
“Hard to miss now,” Roman said, wide-eyed. “What is that?”
Slowly, and steadily, the runes were crumbling. The burns were melting deeper into the wall. And from the holes, shadows climbed out--or maybe it was just the holes themselves, deepening and tearing, turning the world inside out.
“Fun,” Janus said, wishing he’d taken his chance to get the hell out of here while he still could. “This is very, very fun.”
“We should probably solve that riddle,” Roman said.
“Oh, really?” Janus clutched his flashlight tighter. The beam glanced off the shadows like light on oil. “I would have never guessed.”
Two legs in air, eight legs on the ground, more legs and hands and eyes glistening with oil--
The next few seconds were a blur. Something lunged, Janus’ flashlight winked out, and Roman’s clattered to the ground. A cold rope-hand-something curled around his ankle, and Roman’s hand grabbed his.
“Where’s my--” Roman’s voice was panicked. “Shit, okay, the flashlight’s by the boiler--”
“Okay,” Janus said quietly, trying to kick away the cold cloud-hand-whatever it was. “I can’t see the runes anymore.”
“They’re basically falling apart as we speak. You remember the riddle, right?”
“Two, eight, far too many.” Janus swallowed and tried to think. The cold around his ankle was growing warm, too, like frostbite so icy it burned. “Two, eight--”
His ankle was wrenched in a direction it wasn’t supposed to.
Janus heard a wet snap.
And oh, he knew that feeling. Too sudden and complete to hurt. Too much hurt to even comprehend, as if he could feel the pain coming, but not enough time to brace himself. Not nearly enough time.
Red-hot pain, jolting up his bones, from his broken fucking ankle.
He might have screamed. His knees buckled, and someone--Roman--caught him halfway to the floor. Everything was dark. Something red flashed in his vision. Janus could barely breathe without pain tearing at his lungs, but he tried, breathe in and out and wait for the world to stop spinning.
“Hey, whoa, okay, okay,” Roman was murmuring. “What happened? What--”
Janus opened his mouth to explain. All that escaped was a small whimper. If Janus was in less pain, he would have been embarrassed.
“Okay, okay, love, it’s okay.” A hand brushed Janus’ hair out of his face. “Keep breathing. Calm down. It’s okay.”
“Ankle,” Janus forced out. His limbs felt like jelly. “Fucking ankle, gonna fucking--”
“Yes, yes, you’ll get your revenge.” Roman’s voice was achingly soft, and it made Janus relax a bit. “I can lower you to the ground so you don’t have to put weight on it--”
“No,” Janus complained, rather enjoying the feeling of Roman’s arms around him. “Pretty sure we wanna be able to run--”
“You can’t run anyway.”
“Capitalism,” Janus mumbled. “Hate it.”
“Me too, love.”
Something scraped at Janus’ shoulder, something that felt uncomfortably like teeth. He stifled a yelp.
“Oh, that was something.” Roman’s harried tone told Janus he’d felt it, too. “Where is my flashlight--I can’t see anything--”
“Riddle,” Janus reminded him.
“Right,” Roman said. “Right, right, you know what? I’m gonna call someone! I’m gonna call someone.”
“Mm.”
A pause and several rustles. The pain was dulling to a manageable low roar. Janus felt something brush his hand and he swatted at it. Maybe they’d break his other ankle next. Maybe they’d work through him limb by limb, like a game of Hangman.
“Fuck off,” Janus told the darkness.
“Phone’s not--” Roman swore. “Phone’s not working. Of course.”
“Riddle.”
“Right.”
“Riddle,” Janus repeated. Two legs, eight legs, lots of legs. Maybe it didn’t have an answer and they were just messing with him. Maybe he’d answer it and die anyway. That would be a shame, dying with his boyfriend, especially because letting everyone in the building perish was definitely a health code violation.
Roman whacked at something. “Away, foul fiends!”
Janus tested his ankle. He couldn’t even bring himself to move it.
Wonderful. He couldn’t solve a three-line riddle, and he was going to die like a fool in the shadows of spider hell--
Wait.
“Two legs,” Janus said. His voice rasped. “Two legs in the air, when it’s falling on a thread--oh, I hate you.”
“What?” Roman asked.
“And eight legs on the ground, and more legs the longer you look.” Janus laughed. “That’s fair enough.”
Something brushed against his back, feeling like scales.
“Spiders,” Janus said. “That’s the answer! Are you happy now? It’s spiders, leave us alone!”
For one horrifying second, one throb of his ankle, nothing happened.
And then the flashlight at Janus’ feet turned on.
Spider hell looked the same as it always did. Empty walls, a boiler choking on steam, and Roman’s flashlight rolling in the dust. Roman grabbed Janus’, leaned over, and grabbed his own.
“What--” Roman looked around. “Did you--solve it?”
“I think--” Janus slipped a bit in Roman’s arms.
“You did it!” Roman laughed in relief. “You did it, you absolute genius--”
Janus looked up at his boyfriend. Even through the haze of pain, he looked exceedingly adorable. Janus leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Don’t flatter me.”
“But darling, it’s so easy!” Roman adjusted Janus in his arms. “Does your ankle hurt?”
“Take a guess.”
“We’ll have to find you a doctor,” Roman said, pulling him forward. “Out of the basement first, though, before another villainous creature decides to use as afternoon entertainment.”
“Or the spiders find us,” Janus agreed. He tried to shift his weight onto his good foot, but he could barely move without his head spinning. “Ow.”
“Just stay put! I’ll carry you!”
“No.”
“I’ll assist you,” Roman amended. “Lean on me, and I’ll walk you upstairs, okay?”
Janus shifted in Roman’s arms. “Am I hurting you? I’m heavy.”
“You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy.” Roman pressed a kiss to Janus’ head and led him to the door. He kicked it, and it opened. “I’ve got you, love. I’m escorting the brave savior of the coffee shop!”
“I’m manager by default,” Janus said, wrapping an arm around Roman’s waist. Just to hold himself up, of course. No other reason. “It’s my job.”
“You do a great job of it!”
“Someone has to.” Janus clung to Roman’s side as he led them up the stairs. The poster told him to Hang. Janus filled in the other two words, and hung in there.
“I think it’s broken,” Janus said as Roman half-carried him up the stairs. “This is humiliating. Also, expensive.”
“We’ll figure it out, people get hurt, it happens.” Roman paused on one landing. “I’m just happy it wasn’t anything worse.”
“Still the worst injury so far,” Janus said ruefully. “Give me employee of the month.”
Roman smiled and pulled him up the final stairs. “I’ll ask Patton.”
When they burst dramatically through the doors into the cafe, Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not dead!”
“Not for lack of trying, no.” Janus eased himself onto a chair and took a deep breath. The cafe was bursting with people and lights, all the customers completely unaware that they’d just escaped their demise. Janus envied them. “The situation is taken care of, you can relax.”
“Thanks,” Virgil said. “Uh--you okay?”
“He’s taking the rest of the day off,” Roman said before Janus could explain. “Broken ankle. I’m going to rest with him at home, then he’ll take a trip to the clinic.”
“I’ll what?” Janus repeated. “I have a shift--”
“You’re the manager,” Roman pointed out. “Give yourself a free day.”
“The cafe’s busy! I’d leave us short-staffed!”
“You can’t walk.”
“Capitalism!”
“Self-care!” Roman folded his arms. “Virgil, can you cover for Janus as he goes home?”
“Uh--” Virgil looked between them. Janus expected him to say no. “‘Course! I bet I can grab Logan for an emergency shift, too.”
“No, you can’t,” Janus said mockingly as Virgil pulled out his phone. “He’s a bastard and won’t--”
Virgil’s phone buzzed. “He’ll be here in five.”
“Wh--” Janus blinked. “How did you--”
“He just doesn’t like you.” Virgil smirked at him. “Go rest, Jan, we’ll cover your ass.”
“You heard him!” Roman held out a hand. “Come on, love, let’s have a break. The coffee shop won’t burn down while you’re gone, and if it does, Patton can handle it.”
Janus wasn’t sure about that one. Maybe he would return to a burned shell of a building. Or several dead bodies.
But Virgil and Logan knew what to do. And an afternoon with his boyfriend didn’t sound too bad.
“Fine,” Janus said. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!
#roceit#roman sanders#janus sanders#sanders sides#logan sanders#virgil sanders#patton sanders#averywrites#asks and answers#anon#yes i had way too much fun with this au why do u ask#yes this is too long why do u ask#yes i need sleep why do u ask#crap forgot warnings#tw injury#tw death mention#tw spiders#coffee shop au#supernatural au
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Hey I got three prompt idea for your alpha fic (that I just finished reading, and I loved it): 1) Alpha, Fordo (and the rest of the ARCs of hypori, if you want, because a squad of ten arc have potentiel) and Satine meet while Kenobi are left in the middle of this. 2) Alpha and Fordo meet Ahsoka, Ahsoka fangirl, because Alpha ARC trooper, Fordo is puzzled and Alpha discover there is three of them now. 3) the Alpha ARC meet the newly promoted ARC, your choice if this goes good or bad
Ooh all of these were so fun, anon! Although I do have to admit I think the first one was my favorite to write - Alpha has no time for Kenobi's drama, but he's not above making Obi-Wan's life difficult. XD
And to no one's surprise, the ARC in the third little snippet is an OC! I haven't actually written much with him, but he's been taking up some space in my brain for a while now.
Taglist: @delta-the-mando @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @dudewhynotthis @a-lil-perspective @trashynishiki (because I know Obi-Wan amuses you to no end)
Alpha has been General Kenobi’s second long enough to know far more about the man’s various romantic pursuits than he ever wanted - there’s no way to avoid it, given the rate at which rumors whirl through the ranks and grow more ludicrous every day.
As for the second parties in question - Kenobi always becomes conveniently deaf at any mention, so Alpha has limited information for comparison - he is convinced that the Mandalorian duchess is the worst.
He very deliberately avoids catching Fordo’s eye; if his brother cracks, then it’s over for both of them. The clipped exhale picked up on his helmet audio confirms his suspicions.
Kenobi casts Alpha a look of warning. Alpha spreads his hands to indicate that he will not be acceptable for the aftermath when Fordo finally snaps and turns his attention to the duchess.
Her face is set with the same polite disinterest he’s seen on Coruscant politicians, although this time it’s accompanied by a distinct sense of disapproval. Alpha returns the look with interest. He doesn’t like her, and seeing as Kenobi is too busy trying to salvage his dignity, someone has to let her know.
Unfortunately, the Force tips him off, or maybe the general knows him too well by now; whatever the reason, Kenobi clears his throat before Alpha can think of a fitting comment for the situation.
Alpha plays innocent. Kenobi may know him, but Fordo is a wild card, and his brother certainly has a mouth -
“So,” Fordo says, and Alpha can hear the wicked grin in his voice, “I take it you and the general know each other?”
Kenobi’s face is a study in abject horror, the duchess’ somewhere between outrage and mortification, and Fordo looks duly pleased with himself. Alpha, for his part, is intensely grateful for his helmet. He certainly couldn’t care less about Kenobi’s private life, but he has a feeling that he and Fordo both will be getting an earful before the negotiations conclude.
_________________
Skywalker’s Padawan - General Skywalker - is a scrap of enthusiasm and curiosity wrapped up in an undeniably impulsive package.
She’s learned her lessons a little too well, Alpha decides, catching the look on her face. It’s somewhere between wary and inquisitive as she considers the ARCs with a thoughtful tilt of her head.
Suddenly she brightens. “You served with Master Skywalker.”
“It’s been a while,” Alpha says reluctantly. He’s acutely aware of how young she is; even the cadets on Kamino don’t give off the same sense of naivety. He’d rather not admit it, but he’s not at all sure how to handle her.
Fordo slings a companionable arm over his shoulder. “And I’m sure the general has taken your lessons to heart.”
Alpha glares - or he would, if Tano weren’t watching raptly.
“He’s told me about you,” the commander says, and Alpha knows in no uncertain terms that the grin spreading across Fordo’s face means trouble for him in the very near future.
Right on cue, his brother asks innocently, “Has he?”
Alpha jams his heel into his Fordo’s foot at the same time Tano starts rattling off every campaign and minor skirmish Alpha and Skywalker have ever been involved with. It’s almost impressive, her recall and her ability to list every planet and star system without pausing for breath in between. As it is, Alpha finds the attention uncomfortable.
When Tano’s recitation finally comes to a close, Alpha seizes the opportunity to put in, “Don’t forget Captain Fordo’s squad, ma’am.”
The dismay is written plainly across Fordo’s face as he tries to minimize the damage, saying, “It’s really not that exciting - ”
“Shabuir,” he hisses five minutes later, when Tano is hurling questions at both of them left and right. Alpha merely smirks in response.
They manage to escape within the hour, citing a briefing for a mission command is unaware they’ve assigned.
“Well,” Fordo says at last, “she’s Skywalker’s, alright.”
Alpha can’t help but make a face at that. Even Skywalker knew when to keep his mouth shut. Tano, on the other hand, has yet to absorb that particular lesson.
“Captain!”
The voice carries clearly through the hallway, and Alpha comes to a grudging halt. Tano catches up to them, twin lightsabers bouncing on her belt as she tries to maintain some measure of dignity.
“What can I do for you, Commander?” Alpha asks, wondering if she can sense his exasperation.
“I think my Master is supposed to accompany you on this next mission,” the commander explains. She smiles up at him with all the confidence in the world. “It only makes sense that I go too, don’t you think?”
“Well - ”
“D’you know, Master Kenobi was younger than I am now when he went on his first mission.”
“He might’ve mentioned it - ”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to have you on this one,” Tano continues cheerfully.
“I, uh, have a new assignment…”
“Oh, don’t worry, Alpha,” the commander says, patting his arm amiably. “Master Kenobi can pull some strings.”
Alpha, already intimately familiar with Kenobi’s methods, has to work to keep his dismay from showing on his face.
_________________
Alpha wakes abruptly after a particularly tiring training session to find Fordo waving a datapad perilously close to his face.
“What are you doing?” he demands, awake enough to be irritated.
“New ARC recruit,” Fordo announces, and the datapad whizzes by Alpha’s nose to land on his stomach.
Alpha smacks Fordo for good measure and picks up the datapad. As reluctant as he is to indulge his brother’s antics, he’s intrigued by the news. ARC recruits are few and far between these days.
It’s one of Skywalker’s di’kute, cross-trained from the infantry ranks.
“And you’re in luck,” Fordo continues, helping himself to the spot on the bed by Alpha’s feet. “He’s on planet now. You can give him the ARC speech.”
“ARC speech?”
“You know, do honor to your brothers and Jango, et cetera. The usual osik.”
“Shove off,” Alpha says. “I don’t give a - ”
“Whatever you say, ner vod.”
“I’m not - don’t look at me like that!”
“Like what?” Fordo asks innocently.
“You little - ”
Just as Alpha readies himself to throw something at Fordo - or tackle him head-on - the door slides open, followed by an uncertain, “Sir?”
Alpha straightens in time to see a trooper in full armor tuck his blue-striped helmet under one arm. His face is studiously blank, but there’s a smile playing on his lips.
“Four-one-oh-eight, sir,” the trooper says unprompted, apparently unbothered by the awkward silence. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“Not at all,” Alpha says, and takes care to step on Fordo’s foot as he approaches the trooper. He ignores the ensuing yelp and instead opts for, “What can I do for you?”
“The general referred me to you. Seemed to think I could pick up a few pointers.”
“That would be Skywalker?”
“Got it in one, sir.” Now the trooper gives a wry grin. “He recommended me for ARC training.”
“Got a name, kid?” Fordo asks, playing the steady ori’vod he absolutely is not.
“Ike, sir.”
“Well, Ike,” Fordo says, “glad to have you.”
“Don’t let Skywalker get in your head too much, yeah?” Alpha puts in.
Ike’s grin widens. “Yeah, I’ve heard stories.”
“If you’ve made it this far, you’ve already got more self-preservation than the general,” Alpha reassures him, offering a sardonic smile of his own.
“I’d like to think so, sir,” the trooper answers, almost sincere if not for the look of mischief in his eyes.
Yeah, Alpha likes this kid. If he’s careful, he may even make it past his first deployment.
Alpha claps him on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard, ner vod.”
#alpha-17#alpha 17#captain fordo#obi-wan kenobi#satine kryze#the clone wars#star wars#fic prompt#thanks for the prompt!#my askbox is always open#clone trooper#clone trooper oc
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