#I only watched voyager episodes that seemed fun to me so if my replies get nonsensical you now know why :3

[my-timing-is-digital]

❝  i’m a fan of your work,  actually.  ❞ ~galacticforces, the EMH

Needless to say, the android had assessed all the information relative to the EMH Mark I that was available to him; the second the Enterprise-E was commissioned to Captain Picard, Data had analysed the specifications of the new vessel with vehement rigour. The discovery that the Sovereign-class starship had access to an artificial intelligence that was similar to himself in multitudinous ways rendered him fascinated. Unfortunately, a collision of unfortunate events, setbacks, and high expectations not being met entailed the deactivation and subsequent removal of the Mark I series, ultimately preventing him from interacting with the hologram.

Therefore, the fact that his services were currently administered to assist Lieutenant Reginald Barclay in collaboration with Voyager’s EMH was beyond extraordinary, a true delight — to utilise a more eloquent and colloquial description. It genuinely was a phenomenal partnership. A former holodeck addict, an obsolete EMH, and an emotionless android... An enumeration that sounded like the primary ingredients of a disastrous bar joke.

His slender, pearlescent fingers fleeted nimbly across the console display, engaging the LCARS interface with considerable ease and finesse. Chartreuse optical components were solely trained on the information popping up in front of him, determined to ascertain the deficiency in Barclay’s concept to transport the U.S.S. Voyager and her crew safely back to the Alpha Quadrant — without anyone suffering unnecessary detriment or reptilian metamorphoses.. Data scanned all the particulars, accumulated and processed every detail, every component, every feature of the Lieutenant’s equation at frighteningly high computational speeds. That was until his concentration was disrupted by the distinctive voice of the EMH.

A meagre frown rumpled his smooth bioplast sheeting, a precipitation of the Doctor’s ambiguous, albeit generous, statement. Tentatively, he hands discontinued their tasks and rested on the outer frame of the console as his gaze, his countenance imbued with cogitation, was diverted from the luminescent display up to the EMH. The android did not quite fathom what the other AI was implying.

‘Thank you, but I am afraid I do not understand... My work?’ he asked quizzically, his light eyebrows ascended marginally, expectantly, patiently waiting for an elucidation. ‘Did you mean: Doctor Noonian Soong’s work? The cyberneticist who created me.’

As far as the android was concerned, he had not achieved anything worthy of praise; he was simply the legacy of one man’s dreams, the offshoot of resilient aspirations and an unprecedented ambition, the end product of years, decades, of laborious experiments, groundwork and extensive research in the discipline of robotics.

@galacticforces

[alexaplaysgames]

Hideaway

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC

Fandom: Fictif (Last Legacy)

Rating: T (swearing, dorks making out)

Words: ~2600

Description: Felix and his barista explore his childhood home.

Notes: Felix has all my uwus 🥺 did not post five fics in one day (yet) but I might if convinced.

Thanks to @callioops for the inspiration :)

Please go easy on me I am in no way a fanfiction writer by nature but my love for Felix has evidently overpowered my insecurities ;)

Edit: Uhh.... I was debating between settings for this and realized I made it super ambiguous, so I’ve edited it now!

Warning: This is heavily canon divergent now. Oops.

I’m not even sure how I ended up here, to be quite honest.

But I would’ve had to be crazy to have predicted such a thing- a portal to another dimension (is this another dimension?), a towering manor overflowing with stuffy furniture and servants, a raven-haired goth (although he would protest to such a description) with a bird skull strung around his neck. Honesty, his fashion sense is questionable, though admittedly charming, but I nonetheless can’t seem to get him out of my head.

No, this is the stuff of fantasies born to the insane, of perhaps just the slightly deranged.

I’m not protesting, however, quite the contrary. As I pull Felix through the winding corridors of his childhood home, trying not to thing about the smooth softness of his cool hand in mine, I can honestly say that I haven’t had such fun in a very, very long time.

“Stop, stop!” Felix laughingly protests between laboured breaths, tugging on my hand. I gradually slow to a halt, our footsteps echoing in the large, surprising empty corridor, and Felix slips his hand from mine to brace his hands on his knees as he pants. I try to ignore the resulting disappointment that pangs in my chest and grin.

“You doing okay there, bird boy?”

Apparently, he still has the energy to raise his head and glare.

“My apologies, dear barista, that I have not your physical endurance.” He rolls his eyes, then pauses and smirks. “My being a magical prodigy has spared me the effort of such trivial things as exercise.” He spits the last word out with a scoff.

My grin widens as I saunter closer, placing a finger under his chin to raise his gaze to meet mine from where he is still bent over and panting.

“Perhaps we’ll just have to work on your stamina then, won’t we?”

Felix’s cheeks flush that pretty red that I know has nothing to do with exertion as he ducks his head. I smirk as I turn to examine the nearby wall, giving him time to collect himself. How fun it is to make him blush.

A row of framed paintings lines the wall, all of the equally bizarre. I try to make sense of the faces in them, but the harder I look, the more blurred they become. They are all covered in a discernible layer of dust, indicating that this hallway is rarely used. A peculiar sort of coldness rolls off of the strange pieces, one that has me averting my eyes from the freaky, obviously magically concealed paintings.

“Do you think anyone will find us here?”

I question as I turn to see Felix straightening and running a hand through his hair. I try not to let my eyes follow the motion, choosing instead to meet his icy gray gaze.

He seems perturbed as he looks around, biting his lip. It’s as if he’s just realized where we are. His fault for letting me lead him through the monstrous maze that is his home.

“No. Escell has not entered this corridor in years. I’m surprised he has not blocked it off. He rather enjoys avoiding all things that make him uncomfortable.”

“And what makes him uncomfortable about this wing?”

“Too many memories, my dear. Memories he would prefer to keep locked up.” Though he says it with a smirk, tapping one black-painted fingernail against his temple, it comes out only as sounding rather sad.

I open my mouth to reply, but am interrupted by a sharp-

“Master Felix! Enough with your foolish hiding!”

Felix’s eyes widen as he visibly flinches. “Great goddess, have mercy.”

The voice of Madam Usoro, an angry, mean, lump of a woman, sounds like it is coming from just down the long hall. I cringe inwardly, and probably outwardly, at the thought of meeting her again. According to Felix, she was one of his many childhood nannies (the only one that actually managed to survive his torments), and judging by her scowl, she hasn’t had a “me day” since then.

Unfortunately, Escell also assigned her the task of watching over Felix.

“Ridiculous,” he huffs, “it is as if I am nine years old again!”

My gaze darts frantically between the doors lining the walls, not sure where any of them lead.

I grab Felix’s sleeve and tug, though his eyes stay trained on the end of the hallway, his expression resigned.

“Felix!” I hiss, “which of these goddamn doors will get us out of here?”

He merely sighs. “Why bother? My inevitable capture fast approaches, thus I have decided to be accepting of my fate. I will remain here as a prisoner for the rest of my days while Escell continues to treat me like a babbling infant.”

Great. Now really isn’t the time for his dramatics. I lunge forward and lock my hand around his wrist, tugging him once more down the endless corridor of doors. I feel Felix stiffen as I go to open the first door that catches my eye, but I yank it open and pull him inside before he can protest. The door shuts with a satisfying click and we are alone in a strange, dark room.

“Felix?” I cannot see a thing.

A flash of light, and then Felix appears, a green

orb of light glowing in his palm. I suck in a breath as I take in the captivating way the light hits his features, highlighting his long eyelashes and silvery eyes.

“Apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shake my head, unable to divulge to him the truth. I can’t have him knowing about my strange infatuation. Though I often indulge in what I consider to be harmless flirtation, I know Felix obviously isn’t interested in me. Just days ago he was crying over me, thinking I was someone else! The thought is sobering, and I shake my head.

“What is this room?”

“Ah,” he appears uncharacteristically lost for words. “This is... nothing. We can wait here, I’m certain she’ll cease her endless badgering soon enough.”

I send him a thumbs up before I turn to examine the room. I might as well look around, if there’s nothing else to do but sit around.

“Wait!” Felix’s sharp cry is especially harsh in the quiet of the strange room.

My head jerks up. “What is it?”

“I simply think it best not to carelessly voyage through the uncertainties of the dark. You haven’t a clue what you could stumble upon.”

Something about his tone sounds off, but I sigh and move back towards the door anyway. I have learned that there is no use arguing with him.

I’m almost near the safe haven of Felix’s orb of light when my foot slips on something. I manage to catch myself, but lean down and pick up the offensive item out of curiosity.

It’s a bound, leather notebook. It looks worn, from what I can tell in the faint light, and I flip it open to the inside cover, ignoring Felix’s faint protests in the back of my mind. On the right page are lines of scrawling, messy and unintelligible handwriting. But that’s not what catches my eye. On the left, the page reads:

Property of Felix Iskandar Escellun

I lift my gaze to meet Felix’s guilty visage.

“This is yours?”

He cringes but attempts to hide it with a shrug. The movement does not at all look natural on him.

“You are aware I was raised here?” He snatches the journal out of my grasp with his free hand, then quirks a brow. “Why are you surprised to find an object previously in my possession?”

Felix is an atrocious liar. I glance around the room and suddenly it hits me where we are.

“This was your bedroom, wasn’t it?”

Although Felix is, I assume, currently staying somewhere else, his reaction leaves me with no doubt in my mind that this used to be his room.

Felix bites his lip (he really needs to stop doing that lest I get distracted) then slowly nods. With another sigh, he presses his palms together, then spreads them apart until green light flows throughout the room, the night vision goggle-like effect making it look like we’re on an episode of ghost hunters.

“I would rather not spend time sifting through old memories,” Felix says quietly from beside me as I observe my surroundings.

The room is relatively sparsely decorated. In the centre of the opposite wall is a large, canopy bed, the sheets tossed to the side and the curtains haphazardly thrown about. A large desk is pressed up against one wall, overflowing with notebooks and stacks of parchment, and a bookcase on the opposite wall is spilling over with messily arranged books. A large, elegant armchair is piled high with odd boxes near the middle of the room, and an open armoire is empty save for a pile of clothing laying at the bottom. The whole place is a mess, and though the furniture is very fine, Felix’s attempts to hide that fact are quite obvious. The few windows are boarded up, the curtains surrounding them singed. In fact, there are several odd burn marks on the floor, and I don’t think they’re due to the large stone fireplace.

“Wow.” Very eloquent of me to say.

“Ugh. I despise this room.”

I drift curiously about making note of the objects in the room. Aside from the pieces of writing, there is very little here to signify that the room was Felix’s.

I walk over to the window and am pleased to find the the large wooden board covering it is relatively easy to dislodge. Behind it, there is a window seat, and I glance out the window to see a view of the rolling hills that stretch far and beyond, illuminated by the moonlight.

Felix flops onto the window seat with a sigh. I sit beside him and try to ignore the fact that our knees touch.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. “I apologize for my theatrics, dear barista, but I would truly rather leap off the highest tower of the castle of Porrima than suffer through living in this room again.”

I refrain from telling him that I did, in fact, almost leap off the castle’s highest tower, and it is not as fun as he makes it out to be.

He hardly ever speaks of his past without flippant disregard for true emotion. “Will you tell me why it was so bad, Felix?”

His eyes shoot open and he scoffs, though his eyes glisten in the moonlight which shines through the window.

His voice is small as he replies. “I was forced every day to live a life I hated in hopes of pleasing a father whose love I already knew I would never earn. I have never felt so useless, so pathetically desperate, as I felt here. And here I am, back again. All my work to escape this place has been for naught.”

My heart aches for him, the expression on his face causing a physical pain in my chest.

“Felix...” I say softly, and before I even register what I’m doing, my hand is grabbing his.

Felix meets my gaze, eyes wide. Every time I touch him he gets so surprised, and I wonder how often he has been touched lovingly in his life.

“I would never think you useless, Felix, never. You are so extraordinary, so brilliant, and it’s a shame that you can’t see it. You have done so much for me and... I need you. Not just to get home, I don’t even know if I care about that anymore, but because you’ve make me so happy, Felix. Being with you feels like being able to breathe. I know that everyone else has left you, but I promise you, I never will. Never.”

His lips part in shock at my words and this time I can’t stop my eyes from flickering down to his mouth. He is so beautiful. I would do anything to kiss him, even just once.

Felix raises his hand and his fingers draw lines down my cheek, making me shiver. Then he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words are said so quietly that I barely hear them, but I don’t need to with the gratitude that seems to roll off of him in waves.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“Do you ever think about me?”

“I... I- of course I do. You have consumed every aspect of my waking life.” I can hear a slight teasing in his voice.

I lick my lips. “Do you ever think of me like you think of Rime?”

I can feel him flinch at the name and am about to apologize before he speaks.

“Rime is gone. A necromancer knows better than to waste energy attempting to recall what has been truly lost.”

“Oh... I-“

He sounds so incredibly sad. Whoever Rime is, I’ve no doubt that Felix loved this person. Though I know I shouldn’t feel jealous of a dead person, envy ripples through my stomach all the same.

“I... do. Think about you.”

And the meaning has changed. He pulls back with a shaky breath, cheeks bright red. “I know I am not the most naturally affectionate person, but I-“

He thinks about me. My heart does a fluttering little happy dance at the thought.

Screw it. If I leave this world, I don’t want to have any regrets.

And that’s the thought that propels me forward as I crash my lips into his with a longing I have never before felt. Felix gasps against my mouth and stiffens, and I panic. What the hell am I doing? But no sooner has the thought left my mind then he relaxes and kisses me back. He kisses me back! And I’ve never felt anything more wonderful.

His hands come to set at my waist as mine cup his face, feeling his jaw work as he kisses me and that makes it all the more real that he is kissing me and this isn’t some sort of fervour dream. I pull his hair free from its tie and tangle my fingers in the silken locks of his hair, and god, it’s just as soft as I thought I would be.

Felix kisses like he talks- a little hestitant, full of passion, and enough to make your head spin. It feels like I’m falling, I don’t know which way it’s up and which is down, just like when he rambles on about spells I could never hope to comprehend, but the drop is thrilling because I’ve wanted it so badly and for so long. At first it’s slow, soft, but I want, so I press myself harder against him in effort to let him know that’s it’s okay for him to let himself take from me what he needs.

HIs hands tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer to him, hands drifting over my sides, and I smile against his lips at his momentary display of forwardness. I retaliate by tugging on his hair that flows between my fingers like water, causing his lips to part against mine as he gasps, the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth and I’m worried that I’m moving too fast but he moans. I sling a leg over his thigh and we’re grabbing at each other like horny teenagers now-

Felix pulls away with a gasp (I knew we had to work on his stamina). We’re both breathing hard, echoing in the quiet of the large room, and he blinks rapidly; he looks rather like someone hit him over the head with a brick.

I smile at him, running a thumb over his lower lip, and he lets out a pained noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

“I liked that,” I whisper.

“You- you did?”

I nod. “Of course, Felix. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

“R-really?”

I roll my eyes, responding by leaning forward and pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret, one that I’ll gladly hold forever in my heart.

Felix tentatively reaches and takes my hand in his, flipping it over and drawing little patterns into my palm as he turns to stare out the window again. It’s soothing, and I don’t really pay attention to the patterns. But after a while I think he starts inadvertently drawing hearts into my skin. It’s rather cute; I didn’t take him for a romantic.

“Master Felix!” The voice sounds from not too far outside Felix’s bedroom door.

“Shit.”

I’m afraid I don’t possess his way with words.

Our eyes meet and we both burst into a fit of giggles as the sounds of Madam Usoro’s footsteps gets louder. Trapped as we are, she’s bound to find us soon. Somehow, I’m not worrried. Nothing could ever take Felix from me.

And he knows that I will never leave him.

[djinn-and-djuice]

(Travis said that Fjord used to be a sailor, and he has the sailor background, and. Well. There was the whole thing with his falchion. I am a huge maritime history/sailing nerd, so this felt like an extremely personal callout, and here we are. This is all wild speculation, and likely to be disproved, and god damn it was fun to write. Much love and credit to @cobaltpilot​ for being my cheering section! also on ao3)

[no spoilers, but draws on details from campaign 2 episode 3, “The Midnight Chase”]

the call of the running tide

~*~

This is how it starts.

Two men walk into a bar. One of them is more well-dressed than the other, but neither of them are by any means ‘fancy.’ Fancy folk come from the capital, and they don’t waste their time in a dockside sailor’s dive. From his perch in the corner, Fjord watches them scan the crowd with half an eye.

His interest is piqued when Fjord sees one of them point to him and ask his companion something, he already knows what’s being said. Port Damali isn’t so big that one can be ignorant of their reputation.

The rundown is likely very brief. His name is Fjord, he’s a half-orc who likes a bit of whiskey and a bit of dice. He’s spent five years before the mast, but he could be a bosun or a navigator if he got the chance. Maybe even a captain, if that kind of money weren’t so damn hard to come by. He’s a steady hand and a reliable one too, he’ll work for whoever pays fairly, and that’s all that anyone knows about him. To be fair, that’s all they need to know, and this isn’t a town where people ask a whole lot of unnecessary questions.

“I hear you’re a good sailor,” the man says by way of introduction. “May I sit?”

His momma didn’t raise him to be rude, so he nods. “I’m Shane Corrigan, first mate on the Sylph,” he goes on, setting down across from Fjord. “We’re making a voyage to Marquet in a fortnight, and we’re looking for crew.”

The rest of his spiel is boilerplate, all stuff Fjord’s heard a dozen times before. They’re shipping goods; timber and furs and stuff that Fjord can’t imagine has much appeal in the desert, but somehow sells anyway. The pay is good, better than he was expecting, likely because the trip’ll be so damn long.

In the end, that’s not why he holds his hand out to Shane and says “you got yourself a deal.” He can feel the sea calling in his veins, and the thought of four month’s voyage is a good one.

 ~~~

 Fjord’s love of the sea is a long one, begun when he was a child. The tide called to him, and as soon as he was old enough to sail his own skiff he would spend countless hours cruising around. He learned how to read the stars and the wind, how to set course and canvas and one’s feet in a gale. 

So when the Sylph sets out from Port Damali on a bright morning, Fjord hangs a little longer in the shrouds to look out at the dark water and breathe.

The crew quickly settles into rhythm and the first two weeks pass by without much interest. There are a couple greenhorns on the crew, and they take a little while to find their feet, and Fjord spends much of his free time helping them.

Halfway to Marquet, Captain Moore switches up the watch rotations and Fjord is tasked with going belowdecks and making sure everything is fine with the cargo. It’s a necessary job, if tedious, mostly involving killing any rats that made it aboard and making sure nothing’s been disturbed. No one’s reported anything so far, so when he notices a bear pelt that’s been dragged out of one of the crates and set high up, it gives him more than a little pause. He doesn’t make a sound, climbs up quickly and quietly as anything, and pulls the knife out of his boot.

Curled up on the pelt asleep is a young woman with dark skin and fire-red hair. Well. A stowaway isn’t what he was expecting, but it’s not the worst thing he could have found. He shoves the knife back in its sheath and shakes her awake. 

“I don’t recognize you from the crew roster,” he quips.

Bright gold eyes flicker open, and focus on him. In an instant she is up and pressed against the hull, eyes darting around. There’s nowhere to run on a ship, and she seems keenly aware of that.

“What’s your name?”

“Sallah,” she replies, still tense.

“My name’s Fjord. I’m not gonna hurt you, Sallah,” he says, “but you understand we’re not too keen on stowaways here.”

“Please don’t turn me in,” she begs. “I can’t go back to Wildemount, I have to get out of there.”

Before he can even ask why, she’s launching into a hurried, frightened explanation that he honestly has a hard time following. It’s a long, somewhat rambling tale of misunderstandings and scapegoating and the gist of it, as far as Fjord understands, is that Sallah was in the wrong place at the wrong time, in a town of people who were all too willing to shove blame on an outsider.

Anywhere else Fjord would consider it a sob story used to con someone out of a favor or some coin. But he can see the fear in her eyes, and he knows that people don’t become stowaways on a lark. And hells, he knows as well as anyone that he’s got a soft spot as wide as the Wuyun Gorge. So he holds out a placating hand, even as the other is rubbing at his temple.

“Alright, alright, you can stay. The rest of the crew might not be so understanding, and if you get caught I don’t know you. But I won’t turn you in.”

“Thank you Fjord, thank you so much. You won’t even know I’m here.”

 ~~~

 The next few days, Sallah is as good as her word. If he hadn’t seen her himself, Fjord wouldn’t have believed there were any extra souls on board at all. The pelt she had been napping on got stowed away, and he hasn’t seen it out of its crate since they met. Still, he takes some of the hardtack from his meal and saves it, bringing it down to the hold when he does a patrol.

“Sallah?” He calls quietly. “It’s Fjord. I brought you some food.”

A tiny mouse skitters up on top of a box in front of Fjord, and in an instant, shifts into Sallah. He’s so taken aback that he completely forgets about what he was doing in favor of staring blankly at her. He’s heard of shapeshifters, obviously, mages that can change their appearance at will, but there is a wide gulf between the experience of hearing about it and seeing it firsthand.

“That’s how I’ve been staying hidden,” she smiles, hopping off the box to stand in front of him.

“That’s damn impressive,” he replies, handing the chunks of tough biscuit over. “How do you do that?”

“I learned when I was little,” she explains. “My people are very inclined to magic, natural magic especially.” With a flourish of her fingers, a small flame dances in her hand.

“My family didn’t have a whole lot of formal traditions, but I was taught how to focus energy and make it do what I want. I taught myself pretty much everything else.” She shrugs, extinguishes the flame, and digs into the hardtack.

“Can you teach me?” He doesn’t know what drives him to ask. Magic has never been a prominent part of his life-never more than bits of bone scrimshawed with runes and shells hung to ask the Wildmother’s favor for a safe voyage-but he has always been fascinated by the idea of it. To see someone command such power with so much ease is compelling.

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to teach you in a week and a half, but I’ll try.”

He goes about his patrol while she finishes eating. When he comes back, she’s sitting with her chin on her hand in thought.

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks after a long moment.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Would you help me get up top? I’ll make myself small, into a mouse or something, something you can carry. I’ve been belowdecks this whole voyage and some fresh air would be nice.”

“’Course I can,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out. A blink, and she turns into a tiny grey mouse and skitters up his arm.

The sun is almost set when they come up top, and Fjord takes a moment to enjoy the scene. The setting sun paints the deck orange and red, and with the ocean lit up as well it’s one of the most beautiful things Fjord has ever seen. The two moons are barely visible on the eastern horizon, slivers of bone in a lavender sky.

There is a sudden flash of light, and the whole crew looks up to see a bright flash of light at the end of each mast and spar, burning blue-white flames that are gone as soon as they come.

Fjord had seen them once before, on a voyage to Tal’Dorei, one of his first long-distance journeys. One of the older hands called it “The Wildmother’s Beacon”, but he’s heard it referred to by any number of names since then. It’s all anyone can talk about as the crew gets the ship ready for the night shift, so no one notices the companion tucked under the collar of his coat.

 ~~~

 “It’s not hard, you just have to learn to listen.”

Sallah coaches him for an hour or so every day when Fjord comes down to the hold, and this has been a common theme. Listening to the natural world around him, the ebb and flow of the tide, the push of the breeze, he needs to listen to everything. And he tries, he really does, but by the time they make port in Marquet, Fjord feels like he’s made no progress whatsoever.

“I just feel like I oughta be better than this.”

“It’s only been a week,” Sallah rolls her eyes. “And we barely have an hour a day to work. I’ve been practicing magic since I was little more than a babe.”

“Sometimes books help,” she goes on, more gently, “If you can get to the Dwendalian Empire, I’ve heard that Zadash has some great libraries, and if you can’t find something there then you’ll definitely find it in Rexxentrum. There are a lot of different paths to magic, and if one doesn’t work you shouldn’t be afraid to try another.”

 ~~~

 The Bay of Gifts is chaotic and colorful and decadent, and as much as Fjord wants to enjoy it he won’t be able to until he’s sure that Sallah has made it off the boat without incident. He drinks a couple rounds in the tavern with some other members of the crew before taking a meandering walk down the lamplit streets.

He hears rapid footsteps coming up behind him, and turns to see Sallah running up to him.

“Fjord!” She calls. “I’m glad I found you, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

“I’m glad too. Any idea what you’re going to do?”

She shrugs, smiling. “None whatsoever. But I’ll figure something out. I’ve always had a knack with growing things, maybe that’s where I’ll start.”

“You’ll do just fine.”

“That’s very kind of you, my friend.” She hugs him, and Fjord can feel the slight shake in her shoulders as he hugs her back.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

The moment passes, and she steps back. “I’ll stay here for a while, but if this doesn’t work out I’ll go to Ank’Harel. Don’t be a stranger,” she says, and walks off into the warm night.

 ~~~

 The voyage back begins much like the trip there. Clear skies and fair winds, and given how much lighter the ship is that means they make very good time.

On the fifth day, the lookout spots a storm building behind them, and it quickly becomes apparent that they’re not going to be able to outrun it. Captain Moore hollers for all hands to take in sail and two dozen of them are in the shrouds, climbing as quickly as they dare, scuttling across beams and hauling canvas hand over hand.

Back on the deck, the only thing left to do is heave to, tie down, and hope. The sky blackens, lightning forks, and Fjord mutters words of comfort to the young hands as they move belowdecks.

“This ain’t my first storm,” he says, with more confidence in his voice than he really feels. “Keep your head and you’ll be fine.”

The rain beats down on the deck, trickling through the battens and down into the bilge. The flashes of lightning get brighter and brighter, the crashes of thunder grow deafening. The ship lists from starboard to port and then hard to starboard again, and the only warning they get that something has gone terribly wrong is the hull creaking loudly before the sound of splintering wood comes from above on the deck.

Fjord goes up top just in time to watch the main-mast, struck by lightning, come crashing down across the deck in a mess of wood and metal. Captain Moore was at the helm when the storm began, but Fjord has no idea if he’s still there. Or still alive.

The ship begins to tilt under the unbalanced weight, and there’s precious little time before she’s on her beam ends and capsizes. Fjord yells for the rest of the crew and they leap into action, moving everything they can to the other side of the ship to buy themselves a bit of time to get rid of the broken mast.

It’s no use, though, because before they can finish the deck is pitched at such a steep angle no one can stand anymore, and Fjord is in the water. Lashed by the rain and the wind, he struggles to stay above the surface. One piece of the mast is still floating, and he swims over to cling to it. It’s all he can do to hold on as massive waves pitch and roll him.

Finally, the storm moves on, revealing the night sky. Fjord looks around, but he can’t see the rest of the crew anywhere, and the gods only know where he’s been blown. He recognizes the stars, and which way he’s probably heading, but that’s all meaningless if he can’t figure out where he is.

It would still be meaningless even if he knew where he was, since he has no way to get home.

Exhausted, he closes his eyes. The waves lap around him, and now that the winds have calmed it’s the only thing he can hear. Remembering Sallah’s words he listens, hoping that if these are his last moments, he at least hears something. But nothing comes. The last ounce of strength in his arms slowly fades, and he loses grip on the mast, sinking beneath the waves.

“Is that it? Are you giving up?”

It’s little more than a whisper, sourceless in the dark. Fjord almost thinks he imagines it, until it keeps going.

“All those storms you’ve weathered and you just give up? You’re stronger than that. Open your eyes.”

Somehow, he finds the will to creak his eyes open. He sees a glow in the water, a faint shimmer of phosphoresence that draws his attention. He’s seen glow like that before, in much warmer waters. He pulls the strength from somewhere within him and twists around towards it.

“There it is. You could bring the tides themselves to heel with that will.”

There’s no way to tell which way is up, but he swims toward the light. His limbs carve long, slow strokes through the black brine, and his lungs begin to burn.

“If only you had the power to match it.”

His face breaks the surface of the water and he gasps.

“I can help you with that.”

“Fuckin’ prove it.” Fjord replies because hell, what has he got to lose?

He hears a distant, whispery laugh, and darkness takes him.

 ~~~

 He dreams about a forge. The steady, ringing beat of a hammer against hot metal. He dreams of black sails and smoke. He dreams of blue-white fire and the beasts that sleep beneath the waves. He dreams of a blade.

He wakes up.

That’s the first surprising thing. The second, and rather more surprising thing, is that he wakes up on a beach. His clothes are tattered but still keep most of the chill away, so once he picks the kelp off he slowly gets to his feet and walks inland. The people he finds in the nearest village are surprised to see him walking out of the sea, but they take it with good enough grace.

Turns out he’s washed up on the southern end of the Menagerie Coast, and when he tells the folk in town his story they find him someone willing to help him get passage north.

The first leg of his journey back to Port Damali is in the back of a hay cart, and his thoughts are consumed by the odd voice he heard the night the Sylph went down. There’s something in the back of his head, it feels like an itch on the inside of his skull and the more he focuses on it the clearer it gets. His hands move on their own, and before he really knows what he’s doing a spectral hand appears in front of him.

“Oh shit.”

 ~~~

 The trip northward is long and slow, but this new revelation gives Fjord something to focus on. He thinks about that itch in the back of his head, of the way his hands shifted and the feeling of pulling invisible rigging. For three days’ travel he sits in silence and meditates, and on the fourth day he finally feels like he’s done something right. He sees a shimmer across his arms and with a thought his skin turns from green to royal purple. He focuses again, and it turns paper white. He can’t contain the giddy grin on his face as he shifts colors, and it only grows wider as he learns how to tug in a different way and the taper of his fingers change, his nails grow and shrink and his arms gain and lose muscle.

That night, he has another dream. Of a rocky, wind whipped beach sheltered by bleak cliffs. He recognizes it from stories; the Shearing Channel, a stretch of water so treacherous that no ship can sail through it. Distantly, like a rising wind, he hears the voice again, for the first time since the wreck.

“Come find me. We have much to discuss.”

 ~~~

 By the time he arrives in Port Damali, he has a small amount of gold that he earned doing odd jobs along the trip. He thanks his traveling companions for their aid and parts ways, heading to the nearest general store to buy a few road provisions and a bedroll. He doesn’t seek out further passage northward, he just walks out of the city and follows the stars.

When he makes his way through the woods, he can tell that he’s close to the channel from the smell of salt and the whistling of the wind. The cliffs on the edge of the channel are tall, but not solid, more akin to shorn-off hills now that he’s seeing them from this side. He picks his way between them, and makes his way down to the waterline.

On a clear day, you can see Tal’Dorei across the channel, the white rise of the Alabaster Sierras on the edge of the horizon like a dragon’s spine. Days like that are few and far between; today the sky is leaden, and fog hangs low and oppressive over the rough water.

This. This is the place. He knows that what he’s been called to is here, as sure as he was born. He wades into the surf.

The water is frigid, tossed as it is by the constant winds. But that tug, that inexorable, tidal pull, is drawing him deeper and deeper beneath the waves. He feels his lungs begin to ache but still he dives down, looking for something, anything.

To his right there is a flash of blue light, like the fey light he saw coming off the spars of the Sylph. He looks over and sees the hilt of a sword, stuck between stones. A faint blue glow wafts off of it, and he reaches out.

Once, when he was young, he made the mistake of wrapping a line around his wrist, so when a brisk wind caught his sail it pulled his arm out of its socket. He never made the mistake again, just like he never forgot the feeling of his shoulder being shoved back into place. A hard pop, and then everything was where it needed to be.

The feeling of pulling the sword out of the crevice is exactly like that, only without knowing that anything had ever been out of joint to begin with. The grip fits in Fjord’s hand like it was carved exactly for him.

He swims back to the shore and examines the blade. It’s a falchion, long and broad and positively wicked looking. The hand guard is crusted with barnacles, but the blade itself is completely clear of rust. And even though the seawater has finished running off of Fjord, there’s still rivulets running off the blade and pouring onto the stones.

“Hello there,” he says.

“Hello yourself,” the blade replies.

This is how it starts. Fjord stands on the rocky shores of the Shearing Channel, dripping seawater and holding a barnacle-encrusted sword in his hands. The waves pound the beach in time with his heart, rising past his knees and it should be pulling him back under but it’s not. He holds the blade up to his ear, and he listens.

[ariella884]

Rec your own fics!

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.

I was tagged by @rawkfemme and as I am VERY new to this writing thing, I don’t have five fics that I have posted yet. As of today, I only have two, so I guess I am listing them. Haha. I do have another one that is finished, and a few ideas. Mine are nothing compared to the rest of this amazingly talented Voyager crew on here, but they were fun and that’s what really counts! 

1. Time Peace                                                                                             

This was a little addition to ‘Year of Hell’. I like working with the inner thoughts of Kathryn Janeway and while watching that episode this all just came to me. This was the very first fic I’ve ever written and the first writing of any sort that I have shared publicly. 

2. Personal Time

I wrote this quickly a week or so ago. It’s just a short little drabble about Janeway and Chakotay. Again...it was fun. So there you go. 

So there you have it...I only have two thus far. And honestly, I much prefer reading everyone else’s fics than writing my own. I have many many ideas, but I’m not very good at getting those thoughts onto paper. I also have SO MUCH reading to do. I usually think of an idea and them someone tells me, it’s been done. Which is awesome! Yay!

Thanks for reading and I look forward to reading all the other recs from these posts!

Oh and it seems as though everyone I know has been tagged already? If not...consider yourself tagged!! :)

[duhragonball]

betaruga replied to your post “OPM is simple to get into. Honestly you get most of what that Team...”

one punch man is on hulu!

So are Hulu’s annoying-as-fuck ads.   

Here’s the thing about commercials.  I grew up with commercials, and I’m willing to put up with them.  Hell, when I was a kid, I enjoyed a lot of commercials, because they were just extensions of shows I already watched.

Nowadays all I see are ads for cars I never plan to buy or food I was already aware of.   Also, local ads where I live are the worst.  There’s an insurance company in town that seems convinced that the key to success is running bizarre ads like this:

I think they’re making fun of GEICO, but it’s such an indirect attack that it’s completely lost in the poor performances of the four women in the ad, who appear to just be employees who got roped into this.   Someone thought I would see this during wrestling and decide to run out and switch insurance providers. 

But Hulu is the dirt worst, because their ads are so damn smug about it.  I tried to watch Star Trek Voyager on Hulu, only to find that even paid subscribers have to sit through the ads, and they seem to show a lot more of them than what I remembered being on UPN twenty years ago.  Worse, Hulu tries to make the whole thing interactive, asking you to choose your advertising experience, which is dumb because all the ads are equally terrible.  A lot of them go “Look, we know you don’t want to watch this ad, but--” which is just pouring salt in the wound.   Look, you’re trying to sell me something, just make your pitch and get it over with. 

Other ads would try to take advantage of the fact that you’re watching a computer, so they have optional features where you can make choices.  There was one for the Texas tourism board or whatever, and it basically told me pick which aspect of Texas I wanted to hear about.  I can’t remember if it just sat there and refused to end until I made a selection, or if it automatically decided for me, but either of those things insults my intelligence.  It’s a commercial, Texas, not a video game. 

Anyway, I tried to gut it out, because Hulu was cheaper and easier than watching Voyager on DVD, but I got about seven or eight episodes in before I became desperate for another option, and that was when I jumped on the Netflix train.  All the Star Trek, none of the bullshit. 

Well, except for the bullshit that was already baked into Star Trek. 

Anyway, I’ll figure something out.  I may just buy the DVD when it comes out.

[planarchaosproject]

Planar Chaos: One Shots

The Halloween Episode/A Pirate's Life for Me

"So where are you and Kyari going on your latest adventure?" Ashleigh asked from her position lounging on the bed she shared with Odom in his apartment on Ravnica.

"We are going to Alara to study the sea life off the coast of Jhess, in what was once Bant. We've managed to get a good grasp on how the Conflux has affected land and airborn creatures, but the seas still hold their mysteries." Odom examined a few instruments kept on his dresser before tossing them into a satchel. "Even though Bant has become embroiled in chaos since the Conflux, Jhess still has the most impressive fleet of ships in the whole plane. I'm sure we can find a ship to hire that can take us towards deep water."

"How long are you going to be gone?"

"A few months, maybe? Sea voyages take a while."

Ashleigh flopped back on the bed with her arms behind her head. "I've never been to Alara. You've told me so much about it and how you met Maelstrom there."

Odom sighed. "Is this your way of asking if you can go with me?"

"Only if you want me to go with you."

"I really don't see a problem. I'll get in touch with Kyari and ask her how she feels about it."

00000

"What do you mean you're going on an extended trip to Alara with Odom and his psychotic girlfriend?" Brock threw his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly as he stomped around Kyari's humble treehouse on Shandalar. Her hydra grumbled outside, one head peering through the window to give the monk dirty looks whenever he glanced its way. "Kyari do you have any idea just what kind of person she is?"

"Honestly no. I've never met her before." Kyari leaned against a wall and watched Brock parade his bare feet all over her bedroll. She'd have to wash it again later.

"Well she's nuts. Completely crazy. A total fruitbat. She's violent, destructive, and dangerous. I won't allow you being around her."

That made Kyari cross. "With all due respect, Brock, you don't 'allow' me to do anything. We aren't official, and even if we were, you don't get to allow me to do anything. I can take care of myself."

"Can you when all your own spells are turned against you?"

Kyari's eyes flew open. So that's what the Voidcaller did. Whenever Odom spoke of his not-quite-girlfriend, he described her abilities as a nearly perfect counter to his own. While that might be an issue for someone specializing in the ability to copy and shapeshift, Kyari's own abilities had been honed on the mana-rich plane of Shandalar since before her spark ignited. Most creatures inhabiting her home could perform some magic, and the long lifespan of an elf allowed for plenty of time to master any inborn abilities as well as learn several others.

"Brock, I promise you I'll be fine. Now I've got to get my things packed and meet Odom and Ashleigh at the main port of Jhess. They've apparently found us a ship that will go pretty much anywhere for the right price." Kyari crossed the treehouse and opened the door, gesturing for her friend to leave.

"I just worry about you, okay? You're stubborn and far too trusting." Brock began his climb down the rope ladder.

"And you're paranoid." Kyari shut the door and began packing her things.

0000000

"This is fantastic!" Ashleigh hung from one of the many ropes crisscrossing their vessel. Instead of her typical wine colored dress, for the expedition she'd acquired a purple brocade coat lined with navy cord, some sensible black boots, breeches, and a lacy frock. The look was completed with a hat formerly belonging to one of the sailors. Kyari was beginning to suspect by the look of them that her study buddy had booked a pirate ship for their voyage. Even so, the sun felt good and the salt breeze helped to settle her stomach. Elves weren't known for their sea legs.

"Ash, get down from there," Odom called, stifling a chuckle. "I don't think our hosts would appreciate you cavorting around their ship."

"But I want to be a pirate! Just for one day, okay?"

Odom sighed. "Fine. You can be a pirate for one day, but after that you're a serious researcher."

"Yay!" Ashleigh swung down, snatched a cutlass out of one of the crew's scabbards, and leapt onto the prow of the ship, striking a pose with her sword out in front of her pointing to the horizon. "Our heading is east by northeast, Mr. Gibbs, to the deepest part of the ocean!"

A pirate who Kyari could only assume was the eponymous Mr. Gibbs sidled up to Odom. "She knows she's facing south, right?"

"Possibly?" Odom responded. "I don't know. Just stick with the plan and humor her. She's never been on a boat before."

"Neither has the pointy eared one, of that I'm certain." Mr. Gibbs glanced over to Kyari. "If you need anything to help with the seasickness, just go down to the galley. Our cook whips up a decent potion that'll settle the stomach and steady the legs. It's made of rum, lemons, some sugar, and water."

"I don't think being drunk is going to help me," Kyari sighed.

"It helps me," Mr. Gibbs said before wandering off to the stern of the ship with a wobbling swagger.

"I'm surprised Brock and Marthel didn't want to come with you, Kyari," Odom said.

"I think Marthel has been a bit busy as of late, and Brock… We had an argument about me coming. You know he doesn't really like your girlfriend much."

"They had one bad experience together on Pyrulea and now he's made it his life's mission to destroy her, or so she tells me."

"Guys, I mean, me heartes," Ashleigh interrupted them, "we're ready to shove off."

"This pirate lingo isn't really your thing, dear."

"Any more talk like that, Mr. Odom, and I'll make you walk the plank then throw you in the brig!" Ashleigh beamed.

"You can't do that, though, you aren't the captain."

"I think you'll find that I am, honey."

"When did this happen?"

Kyari gave them a wry smile. "You're the one who told them to humor her."

0000000

Three days of Ashleigh playing pirate captain was starting to interfere with Odom and Kyari's mission. However, on the third day they discovered something of great importance. The found a stowaway.

"We don't take kindly to trespassers on our ship," one of the pirates said to the man hiding behind barrels of cargo. "Especially not the kind who show up in their dressing gowns like this is some floating inn."

"Sir, I have to inform you that there's a passenger on this ship that's incredibly dangerous. You must listen to me or I'm certain you'll all die," the stowaway replied.

"Summon Mr. Gibbs and the Captain to the main deck. They'll know what to do."

One of the group of pirates hastily made his way topside. Mr Gibbs was standing next to the captain, who was staring through a spyglass into the distance.

"Mr. Gibbs, Captain, ma'am, we've discovered a stowaway in the cargo hold. Real peaky fellow wearing a bathrobe."

The captain put down her spyglass and adjusted her hat, which had belonged to the pirate addressing her days earlier. "Bring him up here, you scurvy dog."

"Mr. Gibbs and the rest seem genuinely enjoying letting her pretend to be their captain," Kyari said to Odom. They stood near the bow with fishing poles assembled in a row, all dropped to different depths. A bucket full of mundane fish without any abnormalities sat off to the left and would be cooked for dinner that night.

"I think he sees in her the same kind of person I do. She's reckless and selfish and a little off her rocker, but she's not a bad person. She just wants to have fun, whatever that is at the time." Odom leaned against the railing, his mismatched eyes focused on Ashleigh. "She could probably stay here, join this crew, and really like it. But for whatever reason she attached herself to me and follows me around."

"Be honest. How do you really feel about her?"

"I miss her when she's gone. Lots of things get inconvenient when you have to keep manifesting extra pairs of hands."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. But the truth is I really don't. Not yet, anyway. She's great company and we always have fun, no matter what we're doing. I think my life would be pretty boring without her in it."

"So it's true," Kyari smiled smugly.

"What is?" Odom asked.

"You've actually still got a heart inside that gooey chest of yours."

Odom reached into his chest and pulled out the pulsing organ through the ooze. "Well yeah I still have one. I'd have some serious issues if I didn't."

"By the gods of Theros, Odom put that away!" Kyari bristled like a frightened cat.

"Okay, fine." Odom returned his heart to its proper position.

The pirates dragged their prisoner from the cargo hold, throwing him down before Ashleigh and Mr. Gibbs. The noonday sun glinted off his bald head. His yellow and blue robes were wrinkled, and there were bags under his dark eyes.

"Brock!" Kyari and Ashleigh exclaimed at the same moment.

"You know this man?" Mr. Gibbs asked, waiting for one of the women to answer.

"He's something of an enemy of mine," Ashleigh said. "Well, at least he thinks he is."

"He's something of a friend of mine," Kyari said sheepishly. She walked up to where the two pirates had Brock pinned to the deck. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I couldn't let you be with her all alone," Brock said.

"Afraid I'm gonna snatch her away from you?" Ashleigh said suggestively. She winked at Kyari.

"No. You kill everything you touch, doom everyone you meet," Brock barked.

"Oi!" The pirate on Brock's left tweaked his shoulder further. "That's no way to talk to our captain!"

"You best be getting some manners, Mr. Brock," Mr. Gibbs hissed. "What'll we do, Captain? Throw him in the brig? Make him walk the plank and swim back to Jhess? Use him as bait for your friends' fishing trip?"

"We are not fishing," Kyari corrected him. "We're collecting samples to determine how the Conflux affected wildlife."

"Looks like fishing to me," Mr. Gibbs shrugged.

"I think," Ashleigh said, "that we need to give Mr. Brock a place on the crew. How does peeling potatoes in the galley for the remainder of the voyage sound?"

"He'll need new clothes," one pirate said.

"I'm sure we can find him something," Ashleigh replied, smiling maliciously.

For the remainder of the voyage, Brock would be wearing ill-fitting breeches, boots that were a size too large, and a shirt that exposed his stomach if he ever raised his arms. He didn't perform that motion much, being kept in the galley under the watchful eye of the cook, an imposing man with a peg leg and a large carving knife in place of a hand.

"I don't believe this," Brock mumbled to himself. "I'm a monk of the Ojutai, a disciple of Keral Keep, the protector of the multiverse, and I'm stuck on a boat peeling potatoes."

"What was that?" the cook barked.

"Oh, um, I just wanted my clothes back is all."

"Not up to regulations for kitchen duty. Closed toed shoes at all times, no flowy sleeves, they get in the food, and do I need to tell you why you should wear pants?"

"If he's having such a bad time," Odom said to Kyari, "why doesn't he planeswalk out of here?"

"And risk exposing the secret?" Kyari replied, shocked by the suggestion. "He'd never ever allow anyone who isn't a planeswalker to know other worlds exist."

"There's a young man a long time ago he really wouldn't have gotten along with. I never met him myself, but Marthel's told me stories about a planeswalker named Venser who wanted to find a way for everyone to travel the planes. Sverre even ran into him on one occasion, before the fall of Mirrodin."

"We all have a choice to make with our secret, Odom," Kyari said. "Maintain order or work for equality. So far most of us have decided maintaining order is the proper response. Even you and Ashleigh. We've only revealed ourselves to each other after something comes up that could only be explained by planeswalking."

"I guess you're right," Odom sighed, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to the fishing poles. "I hope we catch something. I don't want this voyage to be fruitless."

"At least we've caught a lot of food. This will more than pay for anything leftover from the expenses." Kyari reeled in a line only to find a single fish head attached to the hook. "Something ate this one. Something big."

"What makes you say that?"

She indicated a large tooth caught in part of the fish's exposed spinal cord.

"Hm, what class of beast do you think this is?"

"Possibly infant leviathan, maybe mature shark. I don't really know what manner of sea creatures exist on Alara."

"Now that you mention it," Odom said, scratching his head, "I really don't know either."

Another line went taut. Odom grabbed the rod and started reeling as fast as he could. The enchanted fishing line wouldn't break, of that he was certain, but that wouldn't stop the rod being ripped from his hands. "Kyari, give me a hand."

The elf grabbed the fishing rod along with Odom and heaved. Whatever was on the other end of the line heaved back.

"I can hold this for now, grab Ash and Brock and tell them to help us," Odom said through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure?" Kyari said, loosening her grip. Odom was pulled into the railing with a squishy thud.

"No, I'm not. Dammit. We need those two."

"They'll never work together, you know that," Kyari growled, locking her muscles in place to fight the giant fish on the other end of their line.

"Looks like we're on our own," Odom said. They pulled back together, reeling slowly to drag their quarry closer.

They fought the fish for what felt like hours. Pirates were scrambling around the ship trying to fix any damage the giant beast was causing with its thrashing. Ashleigh sat in the crow's nest with a spyglass calling out the creature's movements to the crew below

"He's going left! Drop the sails, I'll not have them ripped or toppling my ship!"

"It's not really your ship," muttered Mr. Gibbs, "it's mine."

All the rocking and reeling prompted Brock to venture out from the galley and into a panic. Pirates rushed to and fro securing stray ship pieces and repairing broken things as the boat rolled back and forth with the motions of a sea beast.

"What's going on out here?" he cried.

"Your friends hooked a big one and the line's not breaking."

"They won't give up, no matter what. They're going to tire the beast out."

"If the ship doesn't capsize first, that's what the captain's trying to prevent."

Brock looked up to the crow's nest where Ashleigh was calling down orders then to Kyari and Odom fighting their fish. He made a beeline for them.

"Are you crazy?" he cried. "Let go, you'll destroy the boat."

"I am not letting this fish get away, Brock," Kyari shouted. Her muscles were straining and it felt like one shoulder was going to be ripped from its socket.

"I'm not either," Odom said.

"You're both idiots. I knew you were, Odom, but I thought you'd be better than this, Kyari. These people you associate yourself with bring out the worst in you." Brock grabbed the fishing pole. "But if you want this fish, I'll get you the damned fish." Brock added his strength to their fight, feeling his own muscles start to tire and strain against the sea beast. Sweat poured off of his body, pooling in his boots. It was a gross, slimy sensation he never enjoyed feeling. "I always hated shoes," he muttered angrily.

"By the wings of Avacyn!" Ashleigh exclaimed from her spot in the crow's nest. A giant serpent leapt from the water, its iridescent blue scales glittering in the sun, the spray of sea foam surrounding it in a mist of diamonds. Rows of small, but incredibly sharp teeth lined its mouth. Kyari was instantly aware of how much she'd underestimated the creature they'd been fighting.

"Bring it closer. I need a sample!" Odom cried with glee.

"We already have one, remember?" Kyari said. "The tooth?"

"Oh yeah," Odom said, letting go of the rod. Brock and Kyari were slammed into the railing before releasing the sea serpent from their grasp. "Forgot about that."

"What are you guys doing?" Ashleigh, still in full pirate garb, swung down on a rope and landed in front of them, sword brandished. "Throw another line out, I want one."

Odom started laughing at the look of horror that froze Brock's face. Between the bursts, he managed to get out "Ash, honey, I think it'd be best if we left that big guy alone."

Ashleigh heaved a dramatic sigh. "You never let me have any fun."

"Again, Eldrazi in basement."

"Squidly. Was. Harmless. Besides, you don't actually have a basement."

"The lab and Maelstrom's room are close enough."

Kyari and Brock inched away from the bickering couple.

"What do we do?" Brock whispered.

"From what I've seen? Nothing. They'll make up in a moment or two," Kyari said back just as quietly.

"We're getting off at the next stop," Brock said.

"No, we aren't. You can, but I've still got research to do."

"Research? Sea creatures? Secrets? Samples? Count us in!" Odom smiled and gave Kyari a thumbs up, one arm around Ashleigh.

"Well I'm going home. Pirate ships aren't my kind of place. Where are my clothes?" Brock's eyes roamed the ship, searching for any trace of his robes. He found them neatly folded under some books containing maps that were tossed across the deck from their battle with the sea serpent. He gathered his things and jumped overboard to the sound of Ashleigh leading the crew in a rousing rendition of "A Pirate's Life for Me".

[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

For the "get to know me" ask: Talk to me about Star Trek TOS. Fave character? Fave episode? Fave line? Thoughts on the movies? Thoughts on the reboot movies? Spill! (Happy Holidays!)

Talk to you about Star Trek? My pleasure! And thank you so much for this ask. Its been a while since I’ve had any, least of all ones that want me to rant about a series I haven’t talked about in a while.

So, lets see. My favourite character in TOS has to be Spock 100%. I also was quite taken by Captain Kirk, though I think William Shatner ruined the character for me- which is often why I don’t like finding too much out about the actors of characters I love. The thing about Spock is that he is so highly intelligent, yet so useless at things like interpreting human emotions. His logic is so wonderfully contrasted by Dr McCoy. And, yes I will say this, I think he is hot. Don’t ask me why. It’s always the unattached, unfeeling characters that I seem to fall for, and I don’t think I’m alone in that. 

But to be honest, when it comes to favourite characters, and if I could pick more than one, the trio of Bones, Spock and Kirk is so brilliant. Bones is unapologetically human, Spock is the logical machine and Kirk has to muddle his way through the two extremes to solve the many problems on his ship and in his universe. 

Favourite episode? There are so many to pick from! Trouble with Tribbles is a classic, as is Amok Time. Journey to Babel was also one I used to rewatch, as well as Mirror Mirror- whose dvd is so worn because I kept playing that specific episode again and again. City on the Edge of Forever is another one I really like. God there really are so many. I also seem to group Shore Leave and This Side of Paradise together, ones that are quite easy and fun to watch, which could also go with the Trouble with Tribbles. Oh, and Space Seed. Right now, I guess I’d say Mirror Mirror is my favourite, or one that I really want to rewatch right now! So I might have to go and do that and make sure it still holds up against all the others I’ve mentioned.

Movies wise, I have two favourites. It is a sin not to love Wrath Of Khan, and cry at the end, but I also have such a soft spot for The Voyage Home. Call me cringe-worth or cheesy, but I really do like it, and I just can’t help it. I think after the Final Frontier, I stopped watching. My sister told me all I needed to know about the Undiscovered Country. I think we watching it together, but I hardly remember it. The Motion Picture I was quite disappointed (and bored) with. 

As for the reboots, I watched them out of order. I think I only watched Into Darkness because a certain Cumberbatch was in it. I didn’t realise upon my first viewing that his character would turn out to be Khan. I’d stayed pretty blind to any spoilers and things like that. And I watched it late, because it was only after I started my obsession with TOS that I thought it might be worth a watch. And, well, I liked it enough. I might probably still watch it, but I don’t like what they did with Khan’s character too much. The first movie was pretty good. I thought it was really clever, the premise and all a lot closer to the original series. In some ways, I’m glad I saw it out of order, else I wouldn’t have enjoyed Into Darkness as much as I did. After the surprise of how good and promising the first reboot was, I would’ve been so disappointed by Into Darkness. 

And I’ve got to say, I wasn’t much impressed by Beyond. Ok, it was watchable. A lot more than some of the original movies, but honestly, I just think the whole reboot could’ve been a lot better than it was, considering how clever the first movie was. I loved the fact that they incorporated Leonard Nimoy’s Spock into the plot, or sort of centered it around his minor fuck up of ending up back in time and having Nero following him. I thought it totally made sense that Kirk then became a rebellious young teenager, dysfunctional and disinterested in working for an organization in which his Father had died. Then that would totally mess up Spock and Kirk’s close friendship, as well as bringing them closer together later on. I really thought it was quite clever, and enjoyed the call backs, the easter eggs and developments of characters from the original series. There’s so much I wish they could’ve done with it all. 

However, as for casting, I don’t think they could’ve done better. Chris Pine played the dysfunctional Capt. Kirk very well. Zachary Quinto is so spot on to Leonard Nimoy’s Spock. I love Karl Urban’s grumpy Bones, so similar to Deforest Kelly. Simon Pegg as Scotty? I have got to say I love that actor, and he does so well in the role. Anton Yelchin was so sweet as Chekov, I was so cut up when I heard what happened to him. Basically, I loved everyone. I may not have been too keen- or keen at all- on the pairing of Uhura and Spock, but Zoe Saldana was a damn good Uhura. Of course, none of them could really be as good as the original lot, but I won’t say that they failed at all in continuing these characters, and adding their own style to each of them.

I hope I have sufficiently ‘spilled!’ Anymore questions, I’d be only to happy to answer, and if you want to reply with your own opinions (or even message me privately) I would like to hear what you agree with or disagree with, and what you think. Happy Holidays, and thank you very much!!!