#Was it far more infuriating than it should reasonably have been? Also yes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teencopandthesourwolf · 10 months

Text

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts.

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon.

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him.

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip.

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive.

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek.

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony.

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.”

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!”

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek.

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

407 notes · View notes

vintagegeekculture · 9 months

Text

RIP Tracy Tormé, Creator of the "Holodeck Malfunction Episode" and Sliders

Tracy Tormé’s most enduring legacy in popular culture is that, while a writer on TNG’s tempestuous first and second seasons, he created the entire concept of the Holodeck Malfunction Episode.

Yes, even people who suggest you skip TNG’s first couple seasons say that “The Big Goodbye” is one you don’t want to miss. And there was a very nice tribute to Tracy Torme in an episode of Picard, which had him as the author and creator of Dixon Hill… which he is, and deserves credit for this.

I suppose I should mention I had a personal encounter with Tracy Tormé at a convention. The main thing I remember was that he looked absolutely terrified when someone asked him about what happened with “The Royale,” far and away TNG’s worst episode except the clip show, about the crew getting trapped on a hotel they can’t leave from a badly written book. To his great credit, he took responsibility for the episode not working and did not pass on the problems to the production crew.

The most extraordinary thing about Tracy Torme is that he had a Forrest Gump like ability to appear in the background of scifi culture’s greatest moments.

Not only was he inside the TNG writers’ room in 1987-88, he was around during the production of Terminator with James Cameron. Tormé was the one who, hearing about the production of the film, squealed on it to Harlan Ellison, telling Ellison that it was based on his old Outer Limits episodes, with a visual based on his script for “Demon With a Glass Hand.” In other words, he was the Gavrilo Princip who got that entire conflict started, where two of the most proud personalities in scifi butted heads, James Cameron vs. Ellison. Cameron, to this day, insists that the film company gave Ellison money and a credit because it was easier to pay him off than to go through litigation (which rings true, frankly, for risk averse production companies), and to this day Cameron insists, with his absolutely expected big dick swagger, that Ellison is a “parasite” who received money for nothing, and if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have given him a dime.

It’s also worth mentioning that Torme also created the TV series Sliders.

Has anyone else noticed that Sliders is an incredibly right wing show? Seriously, watch it again if you haven’t seen it in years. If you haven’t watched this show since the 90s and you were a kid and all that went over your head, it’s kind of amazing how Limbaugh/Newt Gingrich era right-wing Sliders actually was. It made 24 look like Doonesbury. The targets of Sliders were 90s New Right satire: health care systems, infuriating hippies, the nanny state disallowing the public smoking of cigars, California weirdness, the drug culture, the USSR. Torme’s right wing views were less John Millius-style “blood alone moves the wheel of history” stuff, but more like that of a slobby regular joe in the 90s, Dennis Leary’s character in Demolition Man for instance, who mostly just wants to smoke cigars, ogle girls, and eat hamburgers without getting scolded by his wife. He was less “Passion of the Christ” and more “Animal House.”

I am not saying this as a negative, but merely a description. Contrary to popular belief, right wingers driven by bizarre sexual pathology and weird grudges produce amazing art, as Millius and John Swartzwelder show. A lot of Steven Universe fans love to say things like “all good art is about empathy and kindness” and I reject that notion. Good art can also be about reflecting things in the human experience like fear, trauma, cruelty, and paranoia.

For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that Tracy Torme’s best movie script was a horror film about a traumatic experience, Fire in the Sky. An ominous movie about a vanished ranch hand who was the victim of alien abduction, in the earned finale the film’s tension builds toward, our hero remembers the true cause of his missing time: an abduction by aliens, who’s motives are emotionless and incomprehensible, and who subject him to horrific vivisection that we see in excruciating detail. Travis Walton is treated not with sadism or cruelty, but with icy detachment, by alien superintellects that view him as no different than cattle, and are to him as we are to cattle. The most terrifying detail of the film is that the classic “gray alien” look turns out to be spacesuits, revealing a far more frightening appearance underneath.

#tracy torme #tng #sliders #terminator

368 notes · View notes

ricep0pp · 9 months

Text

already having to relive the Octavian/Luke comparisons and i think i may in fact spontaneously combust.

the blatant misremembering of Octavians character simply because readers just went along with whatever the main cast thought is honestly a little bit infuriating. he's the most spectrum coded character in HoO and most of his actions up until he is literally *brainwashed by Gaea* are justifiable.

"b-but he destroyed Percy's pillow pet comfort item!!" okay, maybe think about how he has to do this with his own comfort items every day? it's literally his job and it's very likely that nobody has ever gotten upset with him over it before. and *Reyna told him to do this* so why are we mad at octavian if it was an order from the praetor to do an augur thing and the easiest way to do that was with an item that had a connection to Percy?

i will also never get over the banquet scene at the beginning of MoA. Octavian literally does nothing wrong here but the characters decide that they just really want to make him the butt of every joke simply because they find him 'annoying'.

after Reyna does the toast and Jason is recounting their rescue of Hera/Juno, Octavian interrupts him in an exclamation of disbelief that they hadn't noticed that the queen of the gods had been imprisoned in a location that was very important to the romans. is interrupting rude? yes, but he obviously seems distraught over the fact that Juno was unknowingly imprisoned. instead of politely explaining the full extent of the situation, what does Piper do? immediately use charmspeak on him.

next, when Percy praises Jason's skills ("No wonder they made you praetor."), Octavian immediately brings up the fact that they have three praetors now that Jason has returned. this is really important, especially from his perspective since he's such a stickler for rules and regulations. Percy decides to immediately abtagonize him, and then completely dismiss his frustration over Percy choosing to step aside for Jason. Octavian has every right to be offended over this, even if it's not necessarily the most correct time to bring it up. Percy antagonizes him, and then basically blatantly insults him by treating the position he's worked his entire life for as if it's nothing important.

after that, Reyna has Octavian recite the great prophecy, ignoring his hesitancy (that is entirely warranted considering greece and rome have been at war for literal millenia). when Annabeth recites the last two lines of the prophecy and Frank brings up her parentage, Octavian has a right to be skeptical. in rome, Minerva isnt even a war goddess, and doesn't have children. without understanding how the gods operate in their seperate forms, it's reasonable, considering they arrived in a war ship, are being lead by a child of a war goddess that they are wholly unfamilliar with in more ways than most of the other major gods, and are, in fact, greek, to be suspicious of the groups intentions.

when Annabeth and Percy list the seven demigods they believe should go on the quest, Octavian is again rightfully upset. There are rules and procedures that are being completely ignored, and by visitors that are already suspicious to him and have made it very clear that they do not care about his opinion, even though he's on the senate and *the fucking augur.* he is once again interrupted, but this time by the book itself as Tyson shows up.

Ella then recites the 'mark of Athena' prophecy, which Octavian *once again* has every right to know about. prophecies are his job, and his entire *personality* as far as camp jupiter is concerned. i understand that it basically says 'Annabeth will destroy rome' but her secrecy in regards to the quest her mother gave her has never once made sense and is not justified in any way. instead of even saying something simple along the lines of 'Athena made me swear to secrecy', Percy for some reason is made to be the character that needs rescuing (in a situation that has nothing to do with him) and Annabeth takes the opportunity to make Octavian into the fool in front of all of his peers. it feels even worse later on when Annabeth and Reyna discuss the prophecy but only to agree that it even *is* one, and for no purpose beyond that for several paragraphs.

THEN when Leo offers a tour of the Argo II to Octavian and Reyna *once again* dismisses his suspicions, she winds up partly to blame for the resulting attack, as well as Leo for never telling anyone about gaea, and Annabeth for not saying anything when she noticed Leo was acting off. when Gaea attacks CJ and Octavian relays to Annabeth that he saw Leo open fire on the city, she assumes he's pulling some trick to get them to fight each other. she had known him for all of maybe a few hours and for some reason, watching her friends and boyfriend openly bully him has convinced her that he could be evil?

mind you, all of the above events happened over the course of *two* chapters, both of which are from the perspective of Annabeth who had only just met Octavian.

he only really began doing things you could consider 'evil' once gaea had fullt brainwashed him and driven him mad. and even then, he gets a fucking joke death?? as the only character up to this point that i was ever able to identify with on an ASD level, that feels really shitty! and the fact that the fandom just jumped on the Octavian hate train really drives home how people cannot handle spectrum coding/writing/*people* unless its presented in a cutesie helpless way.

but back to the original point of Octavian being compared to Luke; Luke was scheming the *entire* time we knew him. He did not want to protect his home, he did not have any real morals or self imposed rules. all he cared about was getting back at Hermes for not showing he cared about him (which is kind of bs considering Hermes is one of the busiest gods in the pantheon but as a fellow neglected kid i get it.) Luke was willing to do this in any way, even if it meant literally destroying the world. Octavian was just trying to keep his home safe in the way that any historical roman would have.

You also kind of have to consider his background. he was left at camp as an unwanted baby. we dont even know if his parents named him or if the camp did. his only identity is that he's a legacy of Apollo with a gift that is incredibly useful to CJ. this, along with his very clear coding (whether intentional on Rick's part or not), only shows me a character that was always unwanted and outcasted from the only place he even could call home. he doesnt want to be praetor for power, he wants to be praetor to prove to everyone (and himself) that he's worthy of being one of them. if he wanted power for the sake of power he could easily use his augur position to manipulate his way up, but never once do we see him attempt this. it doesn't help that he's named after THE Gaius Julius Ceasar Augustus, the man that founded the fucking roman empire in the first place. imagine how that must feel? to have your identity tied to such massive, larger than life people? imagine feeling like you have to live up to that in a place that seemingly fucking hates you for existing and only keeps you around because youre useful??

i really wish people would stop blatantly villainizing Octavian, dudes literally just an 18 year old autistic kid that was victimized by Gaea. give him a break, please.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #octavian #pjo octavian #luke castellan

256 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

hiiii! i would like to send in a request for your follower event please!!! i was thinking of a monster/ghost au where the reader (i’ll leave gender up to you i’m not picky lol) was a medic for the 501st and was dating echo but died. so the reader is now a ghost haunting echo after he joins the bad batch!! i’m not sure if i want echo (or even the bad batch + omega) to be able to see the reader so i’ll leave that up to you as well if that’s okay? it’ll be like a surprise!! but i do want this to have a happy ending if possible please!!

Oh Traveler Come

Summary: You’ve always been a practical person. Realistic. So when you’re killed in an attack on the Resolute you’re legitimately surprised to find yourself sticking around after death. It’s not the way your world is supposed to work. But, when you find yourself bound to Echo, Echo who you were dating before he died, you start to think that maybe there’s a reason for it.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1542

Warnings: Some angst

Prompt: Ghost/Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't sure, at first, how I was going to write this one, but I think I kind of like the idea that I came up with. Thanks for your request!

“What a hell hole,” You scrunch up your nose as you trail after Echo into the barracks of his new squad, “Honestly Echo,” You say to your boyfriend, former boyfriend, who you know can’t hear you, “You should bully them into cleaning more. This is a crime against me.”

Echo doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t see you, though sometimes it feels like he can hear you.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re a ghost. You died in an attack on the Resolute. Well, to be more precise, you were killed by Ventress. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what happened.

To be fair to yourself, you don’t actually remember dying.

But you’re a ghost, so you must have died. It’s the only logical conclusion.

For a time, you were attached to Fives, and then he died (and oh, isn’t that just infuriating? You know everything that Fives learned, but you can’t tell anyone-) and then you found yourself hovering over Echo.

You suppose it makes an odd sort of sense. You’ve always been closer to the domino twins than anyone else on the ship…well, outside of Kix. Although, you’re not disappointed that you’re not stuck haunting Kix.

Absently, you roll in the air so that you’re lounging on your back, you tuck your arms under your head and cross your legs. Being a ghost is weird. You can only travel so far away from Echo before you’re snapped back to his side, floating through walls still feels…weird. And you constantly feel like you’re spying on the boys.

Also, you don’t need to sleep anymore.

You shift when you hear a thunk, and you make a face when you see Hunter stripping his armor off. Time to make yourself scarce, just because they don’t know that they’re being haunted doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t allow them some privacy.

Sure, if you’ve seen one naked clone, you’ve seen them all. But still.

The only person you have any interest in seeing naked is Echo…and even then, not when he’s not aware that you’re watching.

You allow yourself to drift through the wall, and then sit up and cross your legs, lazily allowing your gaze to drift over the men walking through the hall.

What a lonely existence you’ve been cursed with.

Your hands find no purchase. Your gestures catch no eyes. And your pleas, whether they be whispered or screamed, reach not a single ear.

What horrific crime must you have committed to be cursed with this? It must have been truly awful-

“Hello?”

There’s no other explanation-

“Helloooo?”

This has to be a punishment-

“How are you floating?”

Wait, what?

Your gaze snaps to right in front of you. There’s a small child, a little blonde girl, standing in front of you, looking up at you through wide brown eyes. “...you can see me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

“Gods,” You drop from the air until your kneeling in front of her, “How long has it been-”

She reaches out and presses her hands against your cheeks, and you’re surprised that she can touch you, “You’re cold.” The little girl says with a small frown, “Like touching ice.”

“I’m a ghost, little one.” You say through a choked laugh, “I have been for what feels like ages.”

“My name is Omega.” She says with a bright smile, “What’s your name?”

You blink the tears out of your eyes, as you introduce yourself.

“Would you like to come to my room with me? You must be so lonely.”

“I wish I could, but I’m bound to Echo.” You jab your thumb towards the door.

Omega looks from you, to the door, and then back to you. “He can’t see you?”

“Nope.”

“Or hear you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s so sad!” Omega looks like she’s about to cry for a moment, and you flounder, unsure how to fix this, if this can be fixed. And then a look of determination crosses her face, “I’m going to help.”

“Are you?” You ask, bemused.

Omega steps around you and knocks on the door, loudly.

“They’re not going to believe you, kid.” You note as you take to the air again, folding your legs once more.

“I’ll make them.” Omega replies just before the door opens. Crosshair looks out the door, looking right through you, and then he glances down at Omega.

“...what?”

Omega lifts her chin, “I’m looking for Echo.”

Crosshair raises both of his brows, and then he turns to the side, “Echo, there’s a kid-hey!” He stares at Omega as she pushes into the room, and you, laughing quietly, trail after her.

“Um…which one is Echo?” Omega asks you, seemingly uncaring for the bemused, and bewildered, looks that were being aimed at her.

“The one with the prosthetics.” You say, amused, “They’re going to think you’re crazy, Omega.”

She frowns at you, and then turns to look at Echo, “But I’m not.”

“I know that, you know that. But ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, kid.”

“Then tell me something that will make them believe me.” Omega counters.

“Uh…kid? Who are you talking to?” Hunter asks slowly.

Omega says your name and you watch as Echo jerks, and something pained crosses his face. “She’s dead, you can’t be talking to her.” He says bluntly, and you’d almost believe that he didn’t care based on his tone, but there’s something so heartbroken on his face that your heart lurches painfully.

Omega stares at him for a moment, and then she points at you, “She’s right there. She says that she’s been following you for a while.”

Echo glances at you, or, well, at the spot where Omega says that you are, and the look of pain on his face only becomes more pronounced, “That’s…cruel, kid.”

“No, I-” Omega turns her gaze to you, “Help?”

You hesitate, and then you float over to Echo and lightly reach out, as if to touch him, though you stop before you actually manage it. “Tell him…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Omega dutifully gives him your message, and Echo jerks in surprise.

“She’s…actually here?”

“Right in front of you. She’s crying.”

You laugh through your tears, “Don’t tell him that-”

“Sorry.” Omega says sheepishly, “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“Why can’t I see her? Or feel her?”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Omega says thoughtfully, “She said that I’m the first person to see her since she died.”

For a moment, Echo looks wrecked. But then, he knows better than anyone how much you hate being alone.

You pull away from Echo, and return to Omega’s side, kneeling so that you’re closer to eye level with her, “Omega. I need you to pass on a message, exactly as I say it. Can you do that?”

She turns to look at you, “I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.” You breathe out, and then you start speaking.

You tell Echo, though Omega, about Fives. About what he learned, about what got him killed. Omega is shaking by the time you finish talking, horror and fear on her face.

“We need proof,” Echo says quietly, “Cyare, please tell me you have proof.”

Omega, her hands shaking, gives him your answer, “She says that the proof is in your heads.”

“Then we need to do something about this.” Hunter says, “Omega, can you be the go between for us and the ghost doctor?”

“Ghost doctor?” You repeat under your breath.

“You…believe me?” Omega asks, her eyes wide.

“It does explain why Echo always smells a little bit like ozone.” Hunter says with a shrug, “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Half an hour later, Echo is hacking into a computer terminal when he stumbles on a file with your name on it. The file is a very detailed description of the attack on the Resolute, the attack that you thought killed you.

Turns out, Ventress didn’t kill you.

She used an ancient force ability to separate your soul from your body. According to the notes, you were meant to be bound to Ventress, as a weapon to be used against the Republic, only instead of being bound to Ventress, you ended up bound to Fives, and then Echo.

Your body is located on a small asteroid in wild space, kept in a deep coma to keep your soul wandering. Tech quickly makes note of the location, and then they go back to work at dealing with the chips.

A single line of code added to the chips software by Tech, as well as a forced update to thc chips, meant that Order 66 could never be activated by anyone. And if someone managed it, the new order was to protect all jedi, rather than kill them.

It would give the Jedi time enough to survive, if nothing else.

Then the Batch flees Kamino, with Omega. Intent on going to claim their doctor’s body, and then head to the Jedi temple in the hopes that they’ll be able to put you back in your body.

You and Echo will get your happy ending, you just have to fight for it.

And, really, isn’t that the case with all happy endings?

#star wars #tbb #star wars au #vodika vibes 650 event #tbb echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

61 notes · View notes

crinkle-eyed-boo · 1 year

Note

I'm looking at this logically and if the anon who had info about Asian leg being canceled also says there's SOME US shows being canceled because of low sales, wouldn't that make it true? I mean Louis really needs to give a reason to the fans who lost money on flights and hotels for this. And some of his US shows that aren't near major cities aren't half sold so logically it makes sense to cancel those. I looked at the first 3 US shows and they're not even close to being sold out with lots of empty seats.

Why are we taking the word of someone hiding behind the anonymous circle with the sunglasses on tumblr dot com who probably just took the discussion on Twitter, where apparently rumors had been swirling for several days, and brought it here? Were they right that the Asia leg got pulled? Sure. Are they the authority on the WHY? Not in the slightest. Everyone is fucking guessing.

As someone who is GOING to the first US show, all the tickets available there are RESALE tickets, with a couple of random standard tickets thrown in. Given now that it's the first show of the entire tour, I would imagine the resale sales will pick up there. (Also with resale tickets...they ALREADY HAVE THE MONEY. The seat may be empty if the reseller can't sell it, but uh, the venue counts it as sold, y'all.)

The New Hampshire venue tackles a good portion of the Northeast where there aren't major cosmopolitan cities. Everyone up there would be used to driving a distance for a show. Dave Matthews Band, Matchbox 20, Charlie Puth, and Third Eye Blind are all playing there over the summer. None of those shows are sold out. Is anyone saying they should cancel those? No. The venue in Quebec? 85% full I'd say, looking at the map, and the only tickets left are the highest and furthest back seats. Toronto? Mainly resale seats. Blossom Music Center? Services Cleveland and Akron, it's two months away, and the seats available there are all the back section. Is it a lot of empty seats? Yes. Did I go see The Chicks at Jones Beach last summer and the venue was MAYBE 55% full and the show still went on? YES.

Shows are undersold all the time. I went to Stars on Ice right after the Olympics last year, and the arena was like 40% sold. Did the show go on? Yes. Now, is it coming to New York this year? No. Underselling could affect his ability to book bigger venues on the next go around (something I am going to be interested to see with Niall, because his 2020 pre-pandemic sales weren't great) but as far as the current tour? As many seasoned concert fans keep SAYING an undersold show is still far more valuable than a canceled one.

Jesus Christ, it's like some of y'all are wanting him to flop and it's INFURIATING and EXHAUSTING.

#honestly #I don't know why everyone is SO OBSESSED #with the sell outs #90% of the time #shows are not sold out #for anyone!#Other than your stratospheric stars #and even then there's fudging there #this is exhausting

138 notes · View notes

deepspacedukat · 4 months

Text

The Defector (And His Doctor) - Part Two

MOAR SOUP FOR THE POINTY SOUL. I was a lil too verbose in this chapter (it's WAY longer than the first one), so there will be an epilogue, and FEAR YE NOT A LONG WAIT, FOR I HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN IT AND IT SHALL BE POSTED MERE MOMENTS (probably less than an hour) AFTER THIS. *ahem* Enjoy! 😇

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

Part 1 here.

~*~

Beverly Crusher (ST:TNG) x Alidar Jarok (ST:TNG)

[A/N: This chapter has smut/is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Spoilers for ST:TNG S3E10 "The Defector", interspecies sex, Human/Romulan sex, implied Human/Romulan sex, non-explicit interspecies sex, innuendo, flirting, romance, angst, guilt, mentions of poison, if you've seen the episode then you know the ending gets a little dark, suicidal ideation, but there's a happy ending, Jarok needs therapy, and Bev is gonna make sure he gets it, confused/well-intentioned/trying-his-best Data, smug Tomalak.

~*~

**Day Two**

A day in the Reman mines would be less infuriating than this. Admiral Jarok, under the alias of Sub-lieutenant Setal, had battled back and forth with Commander Riker and Counselor Troi all morning with neither side making any headway.

"You're forcing yourself to hold back," the Betazoid counselor had stated with near-maddening calmness, and she hadn't been wrong.

"I have told you everything relevant about Nelvana Three," he'd fired back, but neither of the Starfleet officers had been convinced. The two had teamed up and pressed him on and on, until finally he'd snapped at them, shouting about how irrelevant their inquiries were to their current situation. "What a fool I've been to come looking for courage in a den of cowards..."

The interrogation had ended shortly after his biting remark. Jarok shouldn't have been surprised, but he really had thought that Starfleet would show a modicum of bravery in the face of impending war. Thus far, the only true fortitude he'd seen had come from the beautiful Doctor Crusher.

Ah, the doctor. Her smiles coupled with that fiery red mane made him wish that he'd had a reason to remain in the medical bay for much longer.

Just thinking of her as he strode back inside his quarters made the scowl melt off his features. Since he had effectively exiled himself from Romulus, he would have to make a new life. Maybe, if she was willing...?

No. No, he needed to temper his thoughts, at least until the dust had settled from this situation. But...he supposed it wouldn't hurt if he made his interest known. Nobody ever complained about a few extra compliments, so he could allow himself to flirt harmlessly with her.

He didn't even know if she had a mate. He really ought to check, first. If she had a partner, he would keep his flirtations to a minimum. After all, Jarok was here to stop a war, not disturb a family's peace. His own sham of an arranged marriage was not an excuse for him to cause unnecessary problems for others.

Pulling up the limited biographical profile that the computer allowed him access to, the Admiral sipped his replicated water and skimmed the information before him. Her age, rank, qualifications, and commendations were included, as well as a note that she had a son who was an acting officer onboard the Enterprise. When he reached her marital status, guilt wound its way through Alidar's heart.

She had been married, but her husband had died when her son was very young. She'd been forced to raise her child alone while also maintaining her career? He could tell from the moment he met her that she was a strong woman, but that particular revelation was one he hadn't expected.

Had he crossed a line when he flirted with her before? Jarok was aware that some people never pursued relationships after losing a spouse, either out of guilt or a preference not to risk their hearts again. Perhaps he should take a slightly more cautious approach to this...

Walking to the control panel that Riker had showed him how to use the day before, he opened a communication channel with the ship's first officer.

"What can I do for you, Setal?" He sounded purely professional. After the questioning session earlier, he was surprised that the Human sounded that unaffected. Reluctantly, Jarok admitted to himself that he was impressed.

"Commander, that medical officer who examined me yesterday - Doctor Crusher, I believe her name was - I need to see her, if you don't mind," he said trying to sound as casual as possible. "I feel as though I might be coming down with something."

"I'll ask her to come by your quarters at her earliest convenience." When the channel closed, the Admiral smiled to himself. Now, he would find out whether there was a chance of experiencing some small amount of joy in his exile.

After her discussion with the Captain the previous night, the request from Commander Riker to visit Setal's quarters made Beverly wish that she'd stayed in bed. The Romulan had seemed so charming when he was in sickbay, but as Jean-Luc had correctly pointed out, it was entirely possible that he could've given himself those burns and lied about everything.

Grabbing a medkit from their storage shelf, the Doctor straightened her blue lab coat and made her way down the corridors.

What could she say to him after yesterday's conversation that wouldn't make her feel conflicted? She knew it was her duty as a Starfleet officer to question his motives, but...after all, he had asked for their help. Would he really give up his home for a mere ruse?

Unfortunately, she didn't know enough about Setal or his people to answer that question with any sort of confidence.

Within moments she found herself outside his door, staring at the panel beside it as if it might bite her.

"Don't be ridiculous. He's just another patient," she murmured under her breath. Before she could second-guess the action, she activated the door chime and stood a little straighter.

When the door slid open at his behest, she stepped inside and found her one and only Romulan patient staring out at the stars with a glass of water in his hand. He turned to face her, and when their eyes met, a swarm of butterflies seemed to alight in her abdomen.

No. She couldn't do this now. He asked for a medical officer, not a schoolgirl with a crush.

"Commander Riker said you needed a house call," Beverly stated as she looked Sub-lieutenant Setal up and down. Whatever was wrong with him wasn't immediately evident, but maybe his injuries from earlier ached more than she'd anticipated. The Federation still knew so little about Romulan physiology that sight-only diagnosis was nearly impossible. "What are your symptoms, Sub-lieutenant?"

A smile filled with mischief stretched his lips.

"Loneliness, Doctor. One of the most painful afflictions known to sentient species across the universe," the Romulan answered as he took a few slow steps toward her. "I had hoped that the most charming Terran I've ever had the fortune to meet would give me the honor of a few moments' conversation."

Beverly's cheeks burned. She'd found Setal attractive from the moment he walked into her Sickbay, but she really couldn't afford such a distraction, especially with the threat of war looming over them.

"My, what kind words for someone whom you barely know. Do you speak to all Human women like that?"

"Truthfully, I have never spoken to a Human woman before you, and if I do in the future, it certainly won't be like this," he said gesturing to the couch.

Beverly hesitated. She really shouldn't allow a patient to speak to her in such a familiar manner, but...there was something about him she just couldn't resist. Eventually, she let out a quiet sigh and took a seat on the sofa, setting her kit and medical tricorder aside. The Sub-lieutenant sat a comfortable margin away, and despite her knowing better, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair. The smattering of gray in his sideburns made him look quite distinguished. Whatever his age was, Setal wore it well.

"Your curiosity is practically tangible, Doctor. May I ask what's on your mind?" Her eyes flicked up to his, and the sparkle she found there drew an involuntary smile to her lips. She certainly couldn't tell him what she was really thinking about, so she settled for the next best thing.

"May I ask why you wanted to talk to me in particular if you wanted appealing company? There are undoubtedly much prettier Ensigns and Lieutenants aboard–"

"That is quite a subjective statement, and frankly, I find it inaccurate," he murmured, and she looked at him curiously. Beverly knew she was a decently attractive woman, but...really, why had he chosen her? "Speaking candidly, Doctor, I found it...refreshing that you were not intimidated by me while you were treating my injuries. You dared to request that I, a Romulan officer with three times the strength of a Human, remain still after making a joke about how I got those burns in the first place. And you did so without flinching."

She raised an eyebrow and tried very hard to ignore the little stab of fear in her gut.

"Are you telling me you got them some other way?" She hoped her probing question had sounded like she was teasing him rather than trying to discover whether Jean-Luc was right. A slow, appreciative smile stretched his lips, and he took a slow sip of his water before setting the glass aside.

"I didn't take a plasma torch to myself, if that's what you are implying, Doctor, though, I do thank you for assuming that I would have the strength of will to intentionally mutilate myself in pursuit of the Empire's interests," Setal said as he turned to face her more fully, draping his arm along the back of the sofa. His knee just barely brushed hers. "I would die for my people, yes, but I must admit that I am rather allergic to pain."

A huff of laughter bubbled up through her relief and slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

"It was an accident," he clarified. "I was attempting to complete multiple tasks at once - fly the ship, dodge phaser fire from the warbird, and repair systems before they could go down... There came a point where I neglected repairs long enough for the conduit next to my station to explode. Regrettable, but I considered that a small price to pay to save my life...and the lives of countless others, assuming that your people believe me in time to avert a war, of course."

She searched his face as he spoke, but he was either a very good actor, or he was telling the truth. Her intuition told her it was the latter.

"For what it's worth, I believe you." Beverly knew she shouldn't be admitting that, but she was inclined to tell him the truth. After all, whether she bought his story or not, it was ultimately up to the Captain to decide whether to pursue his leaked information.

Setal looked at her with a lopsided grin.

"Now, that is a pleasant surprise," the Sub-lieutenant began, "but I wonder, will your honesty still be present when we dine together?"

Beverly's heart beat an alarming rhythm in her chest at the presumptuous question, and she raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"I don't recall receiving any such invitation, Sub-lieutenant," she murmured, and she was proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the excitement pooling within her. She really shouldn't be excited about dining with a Romulan, defector or not, she supposed, but then...he was extremely charming.

"Ah, my apologies for getting ahead of myself–" he didn't look sorry in the least "–but would you allow me to share a meal with you?"

"I'm on duty," Beverly pointed out, but Setal was not deterred.

"Surely, you are permitted to break for sustenance at some point? Or are all Starfleet Doctors required to starve themselves? How do your Vulcan friends put it, 'the needs of the many,' I believe...?" She contemplated refusing - surely there was a conflict on interest somewhere in accepting? The Sub-lieutenant's expression was hopeful and a bit playful, and mentally, Beverly acknowledged that she really shouldn't want to know him as much as she did. "If it makes you feel better, you may of course choose where we eat. I'm quite comfortable to bend to your whims. We can remain here if you are ashamed to be seen with a Romulan, if you are wary of being alone with one of my kind we can eat in your ship's mess hall, or if there is another place you'd prefer...?"

"The brig it is, then," she teased, but realizing how that might've come across, she winced. Damn her sharp tongue–

A low, rich laugh shook her out of her thoughts.

"If that is what you desire, I swear to be the most willing prisoner that you have ever had, Doctor." His good humor was infectious, and Beverly found herself smiling even as her combadge chirped.

"Crusher here."

"Sorry to disturb your appointment, Doctor, but I wanted to let you know that the patient requiring shoulder surgery is being prepped and should be ready for you in a few minutes." Nurse Ogawa was professional as always, and Beverly acknowledged the message before turning back to Setal. To her surprise, he was watching her with undisguised interest.

"Forgive me for keeping you here for so long, Doctor," he murmured in a softer voice than she'd heard from him before. "I am truly grateful for the company."

She knew it was wrong, but she smiled as she picked up her medkit.

"It's alright. You can make it up to me at lunch. Twelve-hundred hours," she said as she got to her feet. A look of delighted surprise crossed his features, and as she turned to leave his quarters, she smirked. "Come to Ten-Forward, though. Not the brig."

"I will, Doctor," he called, and without looking back, she made her way back to Sickbay.

Jarok couldn't wipe the smile off his lips after the Doctor's visit that morning. He was in a better mood when he strode off to Ten-Forward than he had been since he made the decision to leave Romulus.

Upon entering the recreational area, the Admiral was struck first and foremost by the view. Across the entirety of the far wall were viewports. Stars whizzed by as the Enterprise traveled through space, and he had to admit that he understood why this spot was apparently so popular.

"Hi. Sub-lieutenant Setal, right?" A cheerful voice sounded at his side, and Jarok turned to find a young man looking at him with typical Human curiosity. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"I am. And you are?"

"Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher," the boy answered, and Jarok's eyes went wide.

"You're the Doctor's son."

"Yes, sir." No wonder the young man wasn't looking at him with suspicion like the rest of the crew - he had his mother's courage.

"And what is your specialty? Are you going to command a starship one day, or perhaps become a medical officer like your mother?"

"Oh, neither. Wes is bound to be an engineer," another voice called out, and striding over was an officer wearing a metallic visor. He clapped Wesley genially on the shoulder and offered the Admiral his hand in greeting. "Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge. Pleasure to meet you Sub-lieutenant."

Jarok shook the hand that La Forge offered him.

"Well, this future engineer obviously has a dash of bravery in him if he's not afraid to approach a terrifying Romulan," Jarok snarked, and the boy just laughed.

"Would you like to join us for lunch, sir?" Wesley asked, but before he could answer, a hand grasped Jarok's arm.

"Sorry, Wes. This gentleman already has an appointment." The Admiral's heart thudded in his side at the sound of his Doctor's lovely voice.

"Thank you for the offer, but perhaps another time," Jarok said before turning his attention to the woman at his side. "I'm all yours, Doctor."

The smile she gave him filled him with enough joy that he could have powered a thousand warp cores with energy to spare. A willing victim to the currents of her whims, Alidar followed her to a table for two near one of the viewports, ignoring the looks they were receiving. If the crew wished to witness their Doctor - the most beautiful of their number - choosing to spend time with him of all people, then they could do so. He just puffed up his chest slightly and basked in the warmth of her gaze as they took their seats.

Someone called Guinan came over and took their orders, tossing Beverly a wink. Jarok hoped that was a good sign.

The rest of Ten-Forward seemed to fall away as the pair talked. Even their food lay untouched for large chunks of their conversation. At one point, they both were so caught up in each others' company that they didn't even notice the removal of their empty trays.

This was so easy, so natural, that the Admiral knew she had worked her way permanently into his heart. Perhaps it was too soon to call this feeling 'love' but he knew it would end up that way eventually.

When the time came for Doctor Crusher to return to duty, Jarok managed to convince her that dinner together was just as good of an idea as lunch had been. She even went so far as to suggest that they eat in her quarters. She stood to take her leave, and the Admiral gave her a respectful bow and a flirtatious wink that drew a pretty pink blush to her cheeks.

Resuming his seat once she'd gone, Alidar looked up and found a golden-eyed man staring at him.

"I take it you have never seen a Romulan before?" He asked with a smirk.

"That would be an incorrect assumption," the oddly-pale officer replied.

"Then why do you invade my privacy?" A hint of irritation leaked into his tone, but Jarok didn't particularly care. The only Human's opinion he cared about was the Doctor's and she wasn't here. All he wanted to do was sink into the afterglow of the time he'd just spent with Beverly, but this person insisted on interfering.

"I was attempting to ascertain what my guts tell me about you," the officer said, and the wording was so strange that the man's identity struck the Admiral all at once.

"You're the android," he murmured. "I know some Romulan cyberneticists who would love to be this close to you."

After a second's consideration, the android tilted his head slightly and replied.

"I do not find that concept particularly appealing."

"Nor should you," Jarok muttered ominously. The android made some inane remark about this viewport being a favorite amongst various members of the crew, but all he could muster was a non-committal hum. He missed his own stars - he hadn't meant to actually say that out loud, but all of a sudden he found himself trailing after the android officer who'd said something about bringing Romulus to him.

After typing specifications into a computer panel against a wall, Data ordered the computer to run a program and gestured for him to enter a pair of doors first. Skeptical, Jarok forced his expression to remain neutral as he did so.

For all his mental preparation, nothing could have dulled the shock of the landscape laid before him.

"The Valley of Chula. I know it well!" He marveled, but something about being in such a familiar place, even if it was just a simulation, felt sour after what he'd done.

"You may stay here as long as you wish," Data offered, rather magnanimously for an android, but after allowing himself one last look at the world he'd left behind, Alidar shook his head.

"I no longer live here," he rasped. "Turn it off."

Once the harsh, cold lines of the hologrid were visible, Jarok forced himself to look hard at his surroundings.

"This. This is my home now. My future. I have sacrificed everything. It must not be in vain." Taking a deep, fortifying breath of recycled air, he turned to Lieutenant Commander Data. "Arrange a meeting between myself and Captain Picard. Tell him Admiral Jarok wants to see him."

"Ensign, will you wait outside?" Picard asked, and once the officer was gone, his eyes fell upon Alidar once more. He'd been delivered to the Captain's ready room with more haste than he'd anticipated. He assumed he was only delayed long enough for the Captain to confirm his identity. "Have a seat Admiral Jarok."

"Captain, there is no more time," he protested.

"Admiral, have a seat," Picard said a bit more forcefully, and because Jarok knew the man wouldn't get down to business until he'd complied, he finally sat in the chair across from him. The Captain seemed more stoic than he had before, more serious...harsher somehow. Jarok knew he would be. This was precisely the reaction he'd wanted to avoid. "You see, I'm just not convinced that you are telling the truth."

Oh, Elements! This again?

"What must I do?" The Admiral was beyond frustration, now. Could this Terran not see that their very worlds hung in the balance?

"You must convince me," Picard answered, and that unshakable calm was almost worse than harsh words and shouting. Was the man half-Vulcan? "If I had irrefutable evidence...but you did not bring irrefutable evidence. You brought no evidence at all. Now, here, you are not the man you claimed to be. Admiral, your credibility is stretched beyond belief. A Romulan defector is almost a contradiction in terms, but Admiral Jarok crossing the lines?"

"I explained my motivations to your interrogators," he rebutted, but the Captain brushed that aside.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. 'Peace in our galaxy.' Except, Admiral, you are not a man of peace. Your military record - what we know of it - is clear."

"Which is precisely why I chose an alternate identity here." Jarok would've thought that particular point would've been obvious, but...

"The massacres in the Norkan outposts, for example." Anger was finally edging into Picard's tone at that, but this was one argument for which Alidar was prepared. He explained briefly about semantics - massacres versus campaigns, butchers versus heroes - something the Federation should understand well given their own history with warfare.

Picard got to his feet, asked him some half-baked question about how he was to believe him when no evidence was available. He prodded him about classified information on Romulan tactical positions, fortifications, cloaking technology. The Captain rambled on about unbelievable circumstances and the difficulty of accepting his word on faith, and when the Admiral had the gall to tell him that he would not betray his people, that was when Picard chose to raise his voice.

"You've already betrayed your people, Admiral! You've made your choices, sir! You're a traitor! Now, if the bitter taste of that is unpalatable to you, I am truly sorry. But I will not risk the lives of my crew, because you think you can dance on the edge of the Neutral Zone." The Captain gradually lowered his voice to something calm again - something somber that felt like a vice closing around Jarok's throat. "You've crossed over, Admiral. You make yourself comfortable with that."

That little tirade cut deeper than Jarok had anticipated. The cold, harsh reality of the sacrifices he'd made were being forced before him yet again in startling clarity, yet...he knew that despite his own pain, he had begun the necessary tasks. Now all he must do was follow through on them.

Admiral Jarok took a brief moment, a steadying breath and played his last remaining card, his one vulnerability.

"Do you have any children, Captain Picard? A family?" The man in question looked exasperated and a bit uncomfortable as he answered negatively - so he'd struck a nerve, then. "Then you have sacrificed too much for your career."

"Yes, this is all very interesting–" The Romulan held up a hand to stop him, and to his relief, the Captain listened.

Impatient though he was, he did at least listen as Jarok explained about how his daughter, her future, and the futures of all children, were his motivation. He told Picard everything - how he attempted to persuade those in command that another war would destroy the Empire, his censure when they grew tired of his arguments, his reassignment to a distant sector, and how this was his final recourse.

By the time he finished, he was on the verge of pleading, because surely the Captain would see that acting on his information was necessary to save both their peoples. Just as he thought he'd succeeded, Picard's gaze hardened once more.

"I will not act. Not unless I have unequivocal cooperation."

Damn the man. One appraising look later, Jarok sat with a data PADD in his hand, inputting all the information he believed was relevant to their mission. When he was finished, Picard nodded his head and thanked him for the assistance. Taking that as the dismissal it was, Admiral Jarok strode from the Captain's ready room and found himself instantly flanked by two security officers.

"How kind of you to escort me back to my quarters, gentlemen," he teased as the three of them stepped into the turbolift. He was finally free to turn his attention to the much more pleasant task of preparing for his evening with the beautiful Doctor.

Beverly didn't believe it at first when the rumors began flying through the corridors and into Sickbay. Setal, a Romulan Admiral? She scoffed the first few times she heard it, but when Will Riker popped into Sickbay to retrieve a copy of the medical scans they'd taken of Setal and called him Jarok instead, a lump formed in her throat.

What a fool she'd been! As she handed over the records with a fake smile plastered on her face, she berated herself for falling for Seta– Jarok's charms. She really felt something for him, but obviously he'd been using her.

Practically falling into the chair in her office, she covered her face with her hands and took a steadying breath. She'd made it all too easy for him to get under her skin. A few sweet words, a few mischievous smiles, and she'd become putty in his hands. Maybe so many years without Jack had made her more gullible.

"Doctor? Are you alright?" Nurse Ogawa lingered in the doorway, catching the expression on Beverly's face before she had a chance to hide it.

"I'm fine, Alyssa."

"Respectfully, ma'am, you're not a very good liar," her friend said with a sympathetic smile. "If you want or need to talk, I'm here, okay?"

An announcement rang out over the Comm System for all Senior officers to report to the briefing room, and before she walked out, Beverly drew her friend into a tight hug. She'd take the support, but for now, she had duties to attend to.

The journey across decks was almost automatic for her, at that point, so she allowed herself to become lost in thought while the turbolift hummed along. Was it his real identity that she hated, or did she simply hate that he'd deceived her?

She didn't particularly care who he really was, and she wasn't exactly thrilled that he'd lied to her, but he'd done that to the whole crew, so...what was it that was really bothering her?

She walked into the briefing room and took her seat. As she settled in, a few of the assembled officers, Will, Deanna, and Geordi, looked at her with concern before the Captain strode in.

Oh. That's what it was. This felt like school. Beverly was always the last to find things out because she was always teased as a child. She was the last to find out about Alidar, despite the fact that he'd had lunch with her, complimented her, flirted with her... He'd treated her as though she was special - as though she actually meant something to him - but she was still the last to know the truth.

That was why she was so hurt.

But, what did it say about her that she didn't care whether he was a Sub-lieutenant trying to avert a war or an Admiral trying to trick them into starting one?

She sat up straighter in her chair, listened intently to Jean-Luc's briefing, and contemplated how she'd handle seeing him tonight. She had a few hours to think of what she could possibly say to him that wouldn't sound as though she was just some whiny, lovelorn teenager. 'I thought you cared about me' sounded far and away too desperate for a person she'd known for less than two full days.

When the briefing ended and the room began to empty out, Deanna moved to walk alongside the Doctor.

"Will and Geordi mentioned what happened. Are you–?"

"I'm fine." Her clipped tone betrayed exactly how not fine she was, but at that moment she didn't care.

"You know where my office is."

She did indeed, and when she was ready she'd talk to the Counselor about all of this. But, at that moment, all she wanted to do was prepare herself for what could be an extremely unpleasant evening.

The Captain had seen fit to lower the number of guards following the Admiral from two to one - much more tolerable than before, even if the one currently beside him was constantly scowling. He hadn't been stopped when he visited the Arboretum to obtain flowers for his lady, nor had he been deterred when the officer in question had chosen to stand uncomfortably close to him as he activated Beverly's door chime.

"Come in," she called, and as the door slid open, he was greeted with the sight of his Doctor out of uniform. A soft, green, knit sweater draped artfully off one shoulder to reveal a tantalizing bit of skin. She couldn't possibly know that Romulans used to mark their mates and be teasing him about that...could she?

He honestly wouldn't put it past her. She was clever and utterly devious, he was convinced of it.

A pair of dark lounge pants made her look elegant in her comfort - more formal than such an outfit had any right to be - and the Admiral suddenly felt decidedly underdressed despite the presence of his own uniform.

"Good evening, Admiral." Her voice was quiet and calm, but there was an underlying coolness that nearly stopped his heart. His smile drooped a fraction. He should've known that she'd find out before he had a chance to tell her. Looking over his shoulder, she addressed his guard. "Wait outside, please, Ensign."

The hiss of the door closing behind him sounded more foreboding that he'd expected. Neither spoke for a long moment. She looked at him expectantly, and he dared to take a few tentative steps forward to present the flowers he'd brought her.

"I visited the ship's Arboretum. I had not encountered these flowers before, but their exotic beauty reminded me instantly of you," he said offering the bouquet he'd put together for her. "I believe they are called roses."

She said nothing. She made no move to take them from his hand. The silence stretched long enough to make him wonder if he'd ruined everything.

"Were you even going to tell me?" Beverly's question was so quiet that had he not been Romulan, he would've been in danger of missing it.

"Of course I was. I simply... The moment never felt...correct for such an admission."

"What moment would have been better?" She asked, and for a split second, Alidar wondered whether all Starfleet officers, save Riker, had taken the same course of expressing anger with Vulcan-like calm. "Would it have been more appropriate in your eyes to wait until we were in bed together?"

He sighed. What else could he do?

"What you have to understand is–"

"Jarok? Admiral? What am I to call you now?" She asked, and she began to muse aloud. "'Jarok' conveys the wrong tone altogether, 'Admiral' seems too formal, and I assume 'Alidar' is off the table as it's too casual for a man with your reputation."

He took a deep breath and laid the flowers aside on the side table by her sofa.

"I cannot change what I have done in the past, nor shall I apologize for doing my duty as an Admiral in the Romulan military. This is precisely why I dreaded telling you," he muttered looking away. "Since my past obviously offends you–"

"Your past? I don't give a damn about your past," she exclaimed, stunning the Admiral into silence as he gaped at her. "I'm hurt, Admiral, not because of who you are, but because I was the last person on this entire ship to find out!"

They both looked at each other, quietly assessing the situation.

"The looks of...of pity that were sent my way just because everyone else knew and I didn't... Do you have any idea how that felt? Did you think I was an easy mark? That I was so blinded by my attraction to you that I'd never find out?" Her questions stung, but not because they were accusatory. They kicked him right in the chest because of the underlying assumption: that he would manipulate her in such a cruel manner because of how little he thought of her.

The opposite was true. He thought the world of her, and it was an injustice that he'd behaved in such a manner that the thought had even crossed her mind. Jarok took a single, careful step toward her.

"E'lev...I didn't tell you, because I was afraid that I would lose you if you knew who I was," he explained looking into her eyes. "You are the only bright spot in this entire ordeal, and I was certain that if you knew all the grisly things I've done for my people, all the terrible orders I've given, all the lives I've been forced to take, you would despise me or worse...fear me."

Looking up at him with those big, blue eyes of hers, the Doctor surprised him yet again by closing the distance between them, cupping his cheeks, and gently skimming her thumbs across his skin.

"Admiral, over the past day and a half, you've shown me exactly who you are. I don't hate you for the choices you've made, and I'm not afraid of you," she murmured. "I trust you...or at least, I hope that I can trust you."

Such an admission from a woman who really shouldn't be associating with him at all made him crumble. All he could think to do when he was this vulnerable was to close his eyes and lean into her touch as he nodded his head.

"You can. I will do all that I can to justify that trust." His voice came out as little more than a rough whisper. What had he done to deserve such mercy and understanding from her? What right did he have to even be in the presence of a lady of such mercy?

"Would you stay and talk with me, Admiral?"

"Only if you'll call me Alidar, Doctor," he stipulated as he opened his eyes once more. Truthfully, he'd have stayed even if she only ever wanted to call him 'Setal' from now on. He would gladly be anything that she wanted him to be. "I don't ever want to hear my title from you."

"I think I can do that, but I'll expect you to call me Beverly in return." The way her eyes sparkled up at him was utterly irresistible.

"As you wish...beautiful Beverly," he murmured, savoring the syllables as they flowed over his tongue. Willingly, he allowed her to grasp his hands and lead him over to the couch - he'd have done anything for her. This, of all things, was no trouble.

"Now, I want to know about you - the real you," she said, and Jarok smiled.

The pair talked for several hours. He answered every question she had, even going so far as to explain about Romulan customs regarding officers of his previous position and their marriages being arranged for political gain. At the first whiff of his dissatisfaction with the Romulan government's aggressive policies, his wife had seen no further advantage to remaining with him and filed for an annulment. His daughter and some distant relatives were the only people he'd left behind on Romulus.

"Speaking of children...your son, Wesley," he began, and Beverly's lips stretched into the sort of proud smile only a parent could manage. "He takes after his mother quite a bit, from what I can tell. I believe his father would be proud of the man you have raised him to be."

"Hardly any of that is down to me," she demurred leaning more fully against him. "He's more like Jack than he realizes - all duty and responsibility. You know, Wesley tried so hard to fill the void that I had to remind him he was a kid more than once just so he'd go have a little fun."

"Well, he certainly has your courage, e'lev," he mused, and she let out a quiet laugh, settling her head on his shoulder. The sensation felt wonderful, especially when paired with the knowledge that she was at ease enough to touch him so casually.

After a moment's comfortable silence, he looked down into Beverly's eyes, allowing himself to get lost in her gaze yet again.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's on your mind, handsome?" Jarok preened at her praise.

"The view. Even the heavens are different here on this side of the Neutral Zone. The stars are wrong," he murmured, "but perhaps..."

She tilted her head curiously when he trailed off, raising her eyebrows in askance.

"Perhaps your eyes can be my new stars." Gently, Alidar cupped her cheek, running the tips of his fingers down the softness of her skin. "Only if you're willing, of course."

He noted only a short moment of hesitation as she processed his words before smiling up at him.

"Why, Alidar, I'd be honored," she said just above a whisper, and he felt his heart speed up in his side. Before he could do anything about it, though, gentle lips met his.

This gesture was so open, so intimate, so...Human. Jarok melted against her, following her lead until they were both breathless and clinging desperately to each other. Somewhere in their haze, the Doctor had ended up wrapping her arms around his neck and straddling his lap. His hands had taken up residence on her hips, keeping her steady above him as they explored each other.

He knew that she could tell how hard he was. She wasn't some inexperienced virgin, she was a woman who'd had a child. As her fingertips skimmed through his hair and coaxed him into another kiss, Jarok couldn't help but marvel at her. She as such a force of nature! He couldn't deny her anything, even if he wanted to. He'd crumble after an instant if only to receive more of this wonderful, exquisite intimacy from her.

How had he fallen so far so quickly? He'd defected from the Empire, lost his home, his daughter – all in a single day. Now, less than a day later, he found himself hoping to make love to a Human and cover her in the evidence of his affection. If his people could see the way he hummed hungrily into Beverly's mouth, they'd sneer at him for allowing a mere hevam to affect him so.

They wouldn't understand her magnetism or her beauty, because they'd be too blinded by their prejudice. He'd always been different in that respect. Jarok had never seen Humans as lesser than Romulans. They were different, yes, but he'd always wanted to satiate his curiosity rather than scoff at their existence. He was beginning to believe that it was an impossible task, though, because every time he learned more about Humans from Beverly, he found that instead of being less curious, he was even more so.

Alidar wanted to know everything about her - what made her happy or sad, what made her moan with pleasure, what her beautiful red hair looked like when it was mussed after a good night's sleep... He'd never been so ravenous for answers before in his life!

He managed to pry his lips from hers and began kissing down that lovely long neck of hers. The whimpers she gave him were precious gifts to be treasured and savored on the tip of his tongue for as long as he lived.

And were those her pheromones? Intoxicating woman... Was nothing about her flawed?

She leaned away from him just long enough to tug her sweater over her head and toss it away. His mouth met the dip in her collarbones, and she said his name like a prayer.

But if anyone was the worshiper in that situation, it was Alidar. Every millimeter of her was precious and sacred to him, and he vowed to himself as she tugged at his uniform tunic that he would never treat her as anything but the blessing from the Elements that she was.

And, oh, they had crafted her perfectly. Fire ran though her veins and gave itself away in her beautiful hair...her passion...her devotion. He'd always enjoyed a fire's heat. Even when he got burned, his respect for it only grew.

She was his favorite flame.

Beverly's forehead met his when both their torsos were nude. Their chests pressed against one another as they fought a battle between breath and pleasure. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her fingers buried in his hair, and her quiet breaths mingling against his lips with his own.

Neither spoke - what could they say that was adequate in the midst of such affection? But, after a long moment, a small gurgling sound filled the air.

They'd completely forgotten about dinner, hadn't they? Their eyes met and both dissolved into a fit of giggles. Lifting her with ease, Alidar kissed Beverly's cheek and laid her on the sofa, taking a moment to admire the sight of her all flushed and vulnerable beneath him before walking to the replicator to get them both something to eat.

He'd save her for dessert.

The ship dropped to impulse a few hours later, and the pair of lovers who'd drifted off together after sharing a meal and a few more kisses finally got dressed once more.

Beverly reported to Sickbay, and Jarok was summoned to the Bridge not long after the ship reduced its speed.

It was time. Nelvana Three required his attention. Smoothing his hair in the turbolift and pointedly ignoring the disapproving glare his guard gave him, the Romulan reported as ordered only to find the Bridge crew in a state of agitation.

"Perhaps you'd care to explain why we're here, Admiral," Picard called out almost as soon as the turbolift door opened.

"There doesn't appear to be a base," Riker added sounding more than a little frustrated.

"I don't understand." Jarok said as he looked at the barren planet on their viewscreen.

"Nelvana Three, Admiral! No base, no weapons, no signs of any life at all!" The Captain exclaimed.

"But...I saw the tactical communiques...the records...timetables for completion," he said as he walked closer to the screen. "An entire legion was assigned to this sector."

"Is it possible they could have been feeding you disinformation? You said that you'd been censured, reassigned four months ago," Picard pointed out, and a buzzing began in Jarok's ears. "They knew of your dissatisfaction. Could all this have been to test your loyalty?"

"No. No, it's impossible," he protested, but a small, horror-struck part of his brain recognized that the Captain could be correct. Oh, Elements, if he'd been tricked–

"They let you escape with an arsenal of worthless secrets," Picard bit out. "What other explanation is there?"

The buzzing in his ears grew louder, and he gripped the wooden railing that surrounded the middle section of the Bridge as Picard's First Officer ordered them out of the Neutral Zone. His own people had deceived him.

Before the ship could run, though, two Romulan warbirds decloaked and fired on them. This couldn't be happening! Was Jarok trapped in some sort of nightmare?

The Romulan Commander eventually hailed them, and Picard engaged in a minor battle of wits with him.

Alidar barely heard a word until Tomalak's jab about Enterprise's broken hull being displayed as a warning to all other traitors who would dare defy the Empire. At that, he snapped.

"All the communiques...all the timetables, all the records. They were all fiction written for my benefit," the Admiral raged, but the smug Commander on the viewscreen merely looked smug as he continued. "A test... A test of my loyalty. And you used me to lure the Enterprise into the Neutral Zone."

Ignoring the accusations completely, Tomalak returned his attention to Picard.

"First, Captain, you will return the traitor Jarok, then you will surrender as prisoners of war."

The men went back and forth, trading threats, and with all the confidence of a man with an ace up his sleeve, Picard summoned two Klingon battle cruisers seemingly from nowhere.

But Jarok could not celebrate the fact that they were still alive. He could not find it within himself to be glad that he'd lived after being so thoroughly used and humiliated.

"I did it for nothing," he murmured, "my home, my family... For nothing."

In disgrace, with nothing left of his dignity, Former Admiral Alidar Jarok left the Bridge. Shame surrounded him like a haze. So caught up in his grief was he that he didn't notice the way Captain Picard's eyes followed his path to the turbolift.

In the middle of treating a few small injuries from the conflict with the Romulan warbirds, Beverly's combadge chirped.

"Doctor Crusher, I think it would be wise for you to visit Admiral Jarok's quarters, and...my instinct could be wrong, but you may wish to prepare for a medical emergency of some sort."

The Doctor paused as she set aside a dermal regenerator.

"Acknowledged, Captain, thank you," she replied. Picking up a medkit, she turned to Alyssa, but she was already waving her out the door.

"Go, we can handle ourselves. We'll cover for you as long as you need." With a grateful smile, she hurried out of sickbay toward her lover's quarters. 'Her lover'... What an odd sounding phrase after so long as a single woman.

But, what sort of injury could he possibly have that would drive him to his quarters rather than Sickbay? He would've known she'd be on duty, so why not simply come find her so she could help?

Activating his door chime, he shouted for whoever it was to go away. She hadn't expected to hear such anguish in his voice. She activated the chime again and this time she announced herself.

"Alidar? It's me, Beverly," she called. "Please, may I come in?"

A long, charged paused passed before he called for her to enter. When she did, she nearly fainted at the sight that greeted her. Tear tracks stained his cheeks as he stood by the viewport. He looked deflated, somehow...defeated.

"Please, let me see my stars one last time..." An orange felodesine chip was clutched desperately between his fingers. Beverly's heart sank. He wouldn't...he couldn't, not after all they'd been through in the last couple of days.

"Alidar...wait, please," she adopted the most soothing tone she could as she kept her eyes locked with his. Taking slow, small steps toward him, she tried to figure a way out of this. Setting the medkit aside as she walked, she tried her hardest not to spook him into anything rash like ingesting the chip. There was no reversing that. There was no antidote.

"Beverly...e'lev, I can't. It was all for nothing. My own people used me to get to the Enterprise. I nearly caused all of your deaths and started the war I was trying to stop, all because I couldn't tell the difference between fiction and fact." A tear rolled down the Admiral's cheek and his hand shook. "I will never see my baby girl grow up. I will not be there when she welcomes a child of her own into the world. I will never see Romulus again! I cannot face this alone."

"You aren't alone, I promise." She was almost close enough to touch him, now. "Alidar, for as long as you will permit me, I will stay by your side. I will help you through this to the best of my ability, but you have to be willing to give me a chance."

He started to shake his head, but she was close enough to caress his face and look deep into his eyes.

"Try...for me..." she begged feeling tears burning in the corners of her own eyes as she spoke. "Please."

After a long moment, there was a quiet 'clack' as the chip fell from his grip and landed on the floor. Almost before she could process that he'd moved, the Admiral grasped the Doctor's waist and caught her lips in a desperate, damp kiss which she returned just as fervently.

Relief cascaded through her. She wasn't going to lose him today.

Any remaining shreds of the decorum the two had maintained over the course of their two-day journey faded rapidly into nothing, shattered by the overwhelming need for both to hold and be held, to love and be loved.

Their aborted intimacy from before was not to be stopped this time. Clothing fell in crumpled piles, removed by desperate hands and delicate fingers, each on a quest to reassure themselves and each other that they were not alone.

With their uniforms stripped away, their duties cast aside, they were no longer Romulan and Human. They were merely lovers partaking of each other, filling the room with the sounds of their joining.

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes

@emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @rookietrek

@slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #Beverly Crusher x Alidar Jarok

8 notes · View notes

darkestrellar · 2 years

Note

if they were choosing an adventure to go on what would it consist of?

have they ever been in a physical fight? what happened?

Real Important Character Development Questions

If they were choosing an adventure to go on what would it consist of?

It should have AS MUCH dangerous fast-paced stuff crammed into it as possible. He doesn't care what the overall theme of the adventure is, as long as it's chaotic. Kick ass. Get ass kicked. Pull off dumb stunts that infuriate his enemies. Deceive people. Dress up as fake identities. Escape hairy situations by the skin of his teeth. Steal valuable items. Do stuff that makes people really angry and question his sanity.

You know, all the usual Svern things.

Have they ever been in a physical fight? What happened?

Yes, several. I don't have any of them detailed yet, though.

Svern prefers running away over fighting, but he's not averse to getting into fights. He's very nimble, very quick, definitely relies more on smart moves than brute force (he's not exactly a big or super strong guy) and tends to focus more on getting an opening where he can escape than winning the altercation itself. He may or may not carry a sharp object on him. The sharp object may or may not be laced with toxic substance.

As a teen, the biggest reason he avoided situations where he could be hurt was because that would mean he had to explain how he was hurt, or hide it, which isn't always easy depending on the thing.

He also will pull his pokemon on people if he needs to, if he thinks he's in danger. Get too close, and you may be startled to see his hat suddenly turn into jelly tentacles that stretch really far and are trying to suffocate you.

#who's that knocking at your door? (inbox)#starikune #boredom is so terrible; it's like a dread disease (headcanon)#alternatively if they pull pokemon on him obviously he will #he also has a seriously modded and dangerous porygon z on hand.

1 note · View note

artikgato · 1 year

Text

9/8/2023

Not gonna lie, I woke up this morning feeling pretty terrible. Physically, I should clarify. I fear I may have picked up some sort of plague or curse or malady or other ailment at the Convention of Dragons last weekend. I'm pretty sure it isn't COVID because last time I got COVID (well, the first last and only time so far) I could tell it was COVID because it kicked my ass immediately and without mercy. This feels more like a head cold at best.

So anyway, not exactly idea exercising conditions. I spent the whole morning both trying to convince myself to go just go back to bed and sleep this off or to just go for the damn jogwalk. I googled "should you jog with a cold" and the answer was surprisingly yes. I also remembered my buddy Larvesta in Pokémon Go, and how I have a quest to have ten best buddies and my current number is zero and... yeah okay ultimately I did in fact force myself to Go Outside and Exercise, which is what Niantic claims is their goal with PoGo (shut up Niantic, we all know it's data harvesting.)

Once I was actually out on my route and jogging, I started to feel better. Great, even. Energized, awake, and ready for the day. It's infuriating how correct all that "just get out and exercise" advice actually is. There's a metaphor somewhere in here. Something something forcing myself to do things that are objectively good for me even if I don't actually want to do them something something.

Anyway, the jogwalk was fine. I do enjoy the sky when the sun is just about to rise. It was 65 degrees out this morning! Chilly! By the end of the route I was as tired as usual, but I did actually jog a little further this time, and my time isn't great but not nearly as bad as yesterday.

The sad part is that my level of exhaustion this morning isn't much worse than how I feel coming home from work on a day when my boss is back on her bullshit, and the only reason I knew something was wrong is because I generally don't wake up exhausted. Generally. Anyway, this has been the mental health jogwalk update for today.

Oh, one other thing I guess I want to make note of? I've been having odd dreams lightly. Not nightmares per se, more like slightly stressful dreams (it's almost certainly because of work). Dreams where I'm trying to do something and just not doing it right. Today's was definitely more on the strange side and probably could be considered a nightmare. For some crazy reason former president Dump Truck was relentlessly trying to tell me something but I, a reasonable person, knew for a fact that there is literally nothing that man could say to me that would have any value whatsoever. So I was doggedly ignoring him and escaping his presence in increasingly difficult ways. Like climbing up into the attic of a house via a series of ropes being pulled up by Muppets for some reason. Climbing down from the second story of my house (I don't live in a house). Fleeing into my neighbor's back yard and taking refuge with her in her sunroom and having tea. The only reason I was caught is because men in black started confiscating my neighbor's things even though she had literally never done anything wrong in her life. (Well she might have murdered a former husband but only allegedly, but still!) I woke up shortly after being captured. So yeah, stressful and weird but not necessarily a nightmare. Probably a metaphor in there somewhere too but if so I have no idea what it is?

Time: 24:37 Weather: 65, sunny Humidity: 93% Word count: 632 Song of the Day: Mad World - ONE OK ROCK

#mental health jogwalk

1 note · View note

bubble-jasmine · 2 years

Text

Yet Another Analysis of Kristoph’s Black Psyche-locks

Ah yes, my favorite discussion point in the Ace Attorney fanbase: those infuriating little locks that seal away story progression in sometimes annoyingly obscure ways. However, I don’t see the regular ones discussed to nearly the same degree as the black ones. This is understandable, as those have only ever been seen twice in the entire series, and so feel quite mysterious, especially when discussing one character in particular:

Kristoph Gavin. Notable for his black Psyche-locks having never been broken, along with his seemingly absurd reasons for murder.

I have seen a number of fans directly compare his Psyche-locks to those belonging to Athena Cykes, and therefore Kristoph’s are seen by a good part of the fanbase as the result of some unknown trauma in addition to his paranoid tendencies. While this could certainly and reasonably be the case (Capcom why did you skip out on backstory in Apollo Justice I will never understand), I want to also remind everyone that the definition of what a black Psyche-lock represents is as follows (according to the Ace Attorney wiki):

“Black Psyche-Locks represent a secret that an individual keeps subconsciously, without even being aware of it. Forceful attempts to remove them by presenting evidence can cause permanent emotional and spiritual damage.”

Therefore, there is some more room to work with “what causes the formation of black Psyche-locks” than only trauma. As I read it, this definition means that whatever the cause, it is so great that it would make an indelible mark on the character’s very soul, or existence.

...so what does this mean for our dear bastard of a defense attorney?

I have two theories. First, that it is nothing more than the manifestation of his extreme paranoid tendencies, and need to keep himself within the status of “defense attorney”. As he shows throughout Ace Attorney: Apollo Justice, he has extremely self-centered views about himself, the law, and the courts, valuing little else (even his own brother and mentee) other than his prestige within the system. Yes, his mantra may be “Evidence is Everything”, but he is not above manipulating the rules to his advantage, finding loopholes, and seeking exploits that he can get away with, much like a stubborn child. The Psyche-locks are then solely a representation of that way of thinking - that unconscious need to be seen favorably, as a kind, helpful mentor and attorney. This is also why the quickest way to anger him is to shake the court’s trust in him or his methods.

My second theory is more of a stretch than the first, but it has the potential to depict Kristoph in an even more sinister light. Note that his black Psyche-locks only appear upon him being questioned as to why he killed Zak Gramarye. This can be taken to more of an extreme than him only desperately clinging to his identity as a defense attorney. He is shown to be particularly ruthless, and is excellent at covering up his own crimes (ironic, considering how much he harps on the truth so much) when he is the one in control. Perhaps it is a bit of a stretch to say this (again, Capcom, WHY CAN’T YOU GIVE US MORE JUICY BACKSTORY), but wouldn’t these traits fit that of the average serial killer? It’s not quite as substantiated as my first theory, though he does have more than one potential victim throughout the course of the game (if one goes by the bad ending in Turnabout Succession). I do think it should possibly considered that Zak Gramarye was NOT his first victim in his life, though, as under this theory I take the black Psyche-locks to mean that he’s so far gone he doesn’t remember or need a reason to kill. Their presence has the potential to mean that he is so warped as an individual that killing is as natural to him as his occupation as a defense attorney. Unfortunately, this theory does have several holes in it, as there is little evidence in-game that other than his two (attempted) victims, he has attempted or succeeded in murdering anyone else. In other words... this is more fanon than anything else.

Regardless of either interpretation, he’s still an asshole. But I think his character is fascinating in that so little is given in the way of his motivations: it’s just enough for the player to take a peek into his mindset, but not nearly clear enough to make a definite conclusion as to how EXACTLY he operates.

#ace attorney #kristoph gavin #aa4 #aa4 spoilers #character analysis #I think??????#ace attorney: apollo justice #psyche-locks #ace attorney spoilers #insane ramblings about the attorney game as written by me #... I actually haven't finished Turnabout Succession so this probably could be a little longer and I may have gotten some things wrong #feel free to correct me on anything #long post

39 notes · View notes

raggaraddy · 3 years

Note

your writing is amazing 🥺

could i ask for a yoongi version of the reader being shot because of them? your other ones are so good!!!

Family affairs

@dramaclub-thin

A/N: Thank you, sweetheart! I'm glad you're enjoying the series. This one has a bit of OT7 and I hope you like it too. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Jimin

Taehyung

Jungkook

Summary: You'd tried so hard to hide your relationship with Yoongi from your father. You knew when he found you were dating someone from a rival club that he'd kill you. You just didn't think it would be literal.

Trigger warnings: Violence, Filicide, Blood, gun usage.

Yoongi

Mafia! Yoongi

Mafia! BTS

"Yes Daddy," you poke your head through the door to his office with a little knock. Normally you would never bother your father while he was working, but one of your brothers came to your room to let you know he was calling for you.

"Ah, Darling. Yes, have a seat." He stands up from his desk, gesturing to the chair ahead of him. "I need your advice on something."

For a moment you get a flutter in your stomach. He never asks you for anything. Your his pretty princess on a pedestal. And he never involves you in anything that a woman wouldn't have been responsible for in the 1950s.

"Of course," you smile, shifting comfortably.

"I know you're tech-savvy, so maybe you can explain this to me. I had some photos printed, but I think there must be something wrong with the camera. Have a look,"

Reaching into his desk drawer as he speaks he pulls out a stack of A4 photos. As he lays them out your eyes jump straight back up at him. Checking for his reaction, a sharp pang of absolute fear hitting you. They're pictures of you and Yoongi, his arm around you when you were coming out of the Bangtan clubhouse.

"I know the camera has to be faulty, because that" he tapes your image, "looks like you. And I know my one and only daughter wouldn't be socializing with those Bulletproof scum."

"Daddy, I-I," you stutter with no idea what to say.

You thought you were so clever, so careful that there was no way he'd ever find out. Even when Yoongi would worry about you possibly being caught you would shrug it off. Your love was invincible and meant to be, and you were smart. No chance your family would ever know you're with Yoongi, and no way his family would ever know you were from a rival gang. As far as they knew, you were just Y/n Brown, the hairdresser from one district over.

But clearly, you weren't careful or clever enough.

Your stark silence is loud enough for your father and he nods a sombre confirmation. "How long Y/n?" He questions.

"Daddy, I don't-"

"How long?!" He's quick to anger, making you jump.

"A few months," you lie, your eyes dropping to your lap. Telling him it's been closer to 18 months is only going to enrage him further.

Slumping back into his office chair he lets out a heavy sigh.

"You think you raise your kids right. To know loyalty and family." He derides looking at you fiercely. "But then you find out your own daughter will open her legs for any cretin. In complete disregard of everything she should know."

You knew it would be awful if he ever found out, you know he is a terrifying dangerous man, but hearing your father's derogatory comments are harder to take than you ever expected.

"What did you tell them?" He sits forward. His demeanour, his expression going from disappointed father to cold mafioso.

Your mouth going dry, you swallow hard. Shaking your head softly. "Nothing."

"Bullshit!" He yells. "You expect me to believe they just let the daughter of Bastille get all cosy with one of the 7 without you giving up something."

This is so bad. You knew your parents, your brothers, the entire Bastille would disown you for this, but they'll actually kill you if they think you've sold them out.

"No. I didn't tell them anything. None of them knows who I am. Only Yoongi knows. And I didn't tell him shit. You know I wouldn't." You defend yourself trying to reign in your distress.

"Well, there's a lot of things I wouldn't think a daughter of mine could do." His voice is so detached. He's stopped looking at you. This is so so bad.

"Dad. I didn't say anything." You restate, fighting to convince him. Feeling like you're trying to prove the case for your own life. "I know the rules. Don't talk to anyone. Not cops. Not friends or enemies." You repeat the words that had been drilled in your entire childhood. You knew nothing, you saw nothing. Those are the rules.

"I don't believe you." He says bitterly.

Your hands are trembling, you're panting heavily. You know being with a rival club member is a stupid thing, but the clubs are in a truce. And despite your father's opinion, you would never be so stupid as to actually say anything. And Yoongi would never let you, even if you decided to. You did one thing wrong, but you made sure you did everything else right.

Leaning back, he opens his phone book. Searching for a number.

"Dad," You plead for his attention. Raising the phone to his ear he shushes you, placing a finger over his mouth.

You have no idea what to do. You've seen him decimate people for so much less than what he's accusing you of. You don't know how to prove your innocence.

The call answers and you can hear a distant 'hello'. Putting the phone on speaker he puts the receiver down.

"Warren L/n here. I believe I have something of yours," he says.

"What are you talking about?" You inhale a staggered breath, hearing the familiar gruff voice of Kim Namjoon.

Your dad's plan was simple. If you were telling the truth about Bangtan not knowing who you were, their leader would be confused and concerned that you were with the leader of Bastille. But if they knew who you were, this would be a much more straightforward issue. Namjoon would understand right away why he was calling.

And if you were lying about one thing, he could assume you were lying about more.

"Say hello Y/n." Your dad prompts, his look daring you to refuse.

"Hi," You squeak, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Your own safety aside, Namjoon was going to kill Yoongi.

There's a brief pause. The background noise on Namjoon's side disappearing. "Kidnapping women? I didn't realise you were handling that personally now."

"Who said kidnap?" he leads the conversation.

"Then maybe you want to explain what one of our girls is doing with you?" Namjoon growls, sounding protective.

That was enough confirmation for your father. The leader didn't know what was going on. But he was about to.

On Namjoons side of the line, he was pacing back and forth in a closed meeting room at the entrance of the clubhouse. Your father was revealing the secret that you and Yoongi had fought so hard to keep.

The phone call ending, Namjoon was in a rage. Marching across the bar he stormed at the table with other members around it. His maddened expression drawing Yoongi's attention. But the older member didn't have any reason to think this fury was directed at him and so he doesn't react quick enough as Namjoon punches him in the face, knocking him from his chair.

The other boys instantly becoming alert, Jungkook jumps to Namjoons side holding his arm out in front of him, looking ready to intervene. Jimin standing between the floored Yoongi and the enraged leader.

"Hyung, what the hell ar-" Jimin snaps.

"You fucking idiot! Bastille's daughter?!" he roars trying to push through Jimin. Jungkook stepping in to help keep him at bay.

Climbing back to his feet, nursing a split lip, Yoongi's eyes go wide. Completely caught off guard by Namjoon's revelation. "How did you-" he gapes.

"Everything she's seen, everything she knows! Do you have any idea how much you've exposed this club?" He lunges again, bowling the mediating members out of the way. Diving through Yoongi, the two men trade blows as they scuffle on the floor.

The scene quickly gets out of hand, and as Yoongi throws Namjoon through a table, Jin and Hoseok come from a backroom to step in also. The four of them now working to pry the two battling men apart. Jimin and Hoseok holding back Yoongi. The oldest and youngest members trying to keep Namjoon at bay.

"Enough!" Jin scolds with a firm shove to Namjoon's chest. "Someone explain what the hell is going on!"

"Just Suga thinking with his dick, instead of his brain." Namjoon spits.

Shirking off the boys, Yoongi barges forward infuriated by the provocative comment. War breaking out again with a solid hit at Namjoon, a gash opening over his eye. Another difficult struggle beginning for the members, grappling and clawing them apart. Having to fully restrain them to have them stop. Being held as they bleed.

Grabbing both of them by the collar, Jin demands their focus. "The next man who throws a punch leaves here with a bullet in his leg!" He growls. "Am I clear?!" His fist tightens, stiffening their necklines.

"Yes,"

"Yes, Hyung."

The two of them conceded, their energy dropping as their eldest releases them. "Good. Now sit down so we can talk this shit out."

It takes several minutes and a round of drinks, but the room calms down enough for the members to sit down. They send the few 2nd levels out and the 95's girlfriends. The bar remaining with only the 7 original members. Taehyung coming back just as the disclosure began.

Namjoon starts, passing along the information your father had given him. The 6 of them all sharing disappointed, worried or angry glances towards Yoongi.

"She wouldn't have said anything." Yoongi insists, after explaining his side also. Trying to defend his decision. To defend you.

"You can't know that," Jimin argues, flumping back in his seat. Taking a sip with a pissed-off scowl on his face.

"Yeah, we've all been pussy blinded before. You're not thinking clearly." Jungkook snips.

"Maknae-" Yoongi warns. Getting tired of the disrespect that keeps getting thrown his way.

"Hey, watch it." Jin interrupts, correcting Jungkook's blunt attitude. The youngest shrugging, downing the last of his drink.

"Look, if she was giving information to L/n, then why would he call to tell you that he knows." Yoongi disputes. Hoping to bring reason back into the debate.

"He wants to trade. The latest shipment of horse for Y/n." Namjoon answers with a frustrated scoff and a roll of his eyes.

"That's close to 500 K. That's not happening," Hoseok jumps in. The rest of them firmly nodding in agreement.

"Okay, but if that's the case. If he's trying to sell her off, that means she's not working with him. Right?" Taehyung backs Yoongi's point.

"Idiot," Jimin shoves his friend, "It could be a part of the plan. A way to rip us off for half a million."

"Or it could be a set-up," Namjoon adds. "Let's say Hyung's right, and she isn't working with her old man. If we're willing to sit down, if we try to buy her back, it confirms that she knows enough that we're concerned about it."

"I'm telling you, she doesn't know anything. She didn't want to know anything. And even if she did, she's not gonna give it up." Again Yoongi vehemently defends you.

"Well if she doesn't give him anything then L/n kills her." Namjoon finalizes. "To hurt the club, and as retribution for her betrayal."

"What I don't understand is why you would let her go back? If you trust her and you know how ruthless Bastille is, why would you let her keep going back to him?" Jin asks, genuinely baffled.

Standing up Yoongi can't take anymore. He's furious. He's upset. At himself most of all. Feeling to blame for allowing you to be in this situation, he leaves in anger. Needing some time to himself to think.

"I don't know, she seemed pretty cool," Taehyung mutters, leaning into Namjoon. "You don't really think he would kill his own daughter, right?"

It's been 2 days and you've been locked in an empty storage shed at the edge of the property like a captive. Your father turned your world upside down looking for information. His people went through your computer, your phone, your car, your room. Everything that was yours he and his men had raided. And just like you said, there was nothing there. No information about Bastille, and nothing about Bangtan.

"Suga. I'm guessing that's Min Yoongi? Unless you're cheating on him." Your dad muses holding up your phone. That is so humiliating. So many nudes and dirty texts are in that chat. There may not be revealing information, but there was still plenty of personal stuff.

"You know Darling, I don't like to admit when I am wrong, but it looks like you were telling the truth. I can't find any proof that you gave up any family details." He smiles softly, your heart lifting with relief for a moment. "But then I was looking through your camera roll and, in the pictures where you actually have clothes on, it's just full of Bangtan." He comes further into the empty shed, leaning on the wall alongside you. Showing you the screen as he scrolls through. The only entrance being blocked by one of his more grizzly looking men. "See here, there's you and a bunch of them at a restaurant. There's you and the leader. You and the crazy one. Here's a family-style photo, isn't that nice."

He keeps scrolling through shot after shot, exhibiting an entire album full of Bangtan family pictures.

"I'm sure you never expected anyone else to see these. I guess I should have been teaching you not to put the same password for multiple devices." He scoffs. "But the interesting thing, when I'm going through these photos you seem to be really close with all of them. Some of these even go back to last year. Which makes the timeline you gave me a little off."

He shows the details of one of the pictures to you, the time stamp from when you had already been with Yoongi for 6 months.

"This one is from May 2nd. Last year. On the 10th those bastards stole one of my shipping containers. With nearly 100 grand worth of merchandise. Did you know about that?"

"You mean people." You sneer, his characterization of human trafficking as 'merchandise' making your skin crawl.

"So you did know." He smiles coldly.

"I found out- I knew after," you justify. Even as you continue to defend yourself, you have a sick feeling that it's all for nothing.

"I'm really curious what else you know." He hums, walking around the front of you to get back into your eye line.

"I don't know anything," you tell him for the 1000th time with an exasperated shake of your head. Moving away to the far side of the shed.

"Darling, I'm your father and I'm telling you we need to reconcile this. Your mother is worried sick. I'm here losing sleep over this. I'm giving you a chance to repay all the damage you've done. A chance to forget all this. You tell me everything you know about Bangtan, and just like that," he snaps his fingers, "you get to return to your comfortable life."

You don't trust his change in tone or his promises for a minute. You may not have known the darkest parts of who he is, but that's how you can be sure that his offer to forgive and forget is rubbish. Not even the father in him would let you forget a mistake. Especially one this major, not with the way he is reacting. And he's so much more brutal when it comes to Bastille.

"And if I don't?"

"Then you've betrayed your family. And we'll find out what we want to know in other ways." he taps the back of his hand in the other, symbolizing a beat down.

You shake your head hard. You might love your dad. But you don't like him. You've known for most of your life that he was a bad guy. And Yoongi, Bangtan, they might not be the good guys, but they've been the family you've always wanted. There is no way you were telling him even the most insignificant detail.

"Hit me all you want dad, I still don't know anything." You snarl.

"I could never hit my own daughter." He taps his heart, a feigned pained expression on his face. Nodding his head in your direction, he trades places with his man who advances on you.

Breathing hard you step back only to hit the wall.

The tall, square-built man swings. The back of his hand slapping your cheek, the force so strong that it smacks you into the corner sidewall. His hand, like a vice, grabs ahold of your head and mightily slams it into the steel beam running down the sheet metal wall. Pushing your hands against his chest, you weakly attempt to fend him off, but he ends your efforts with another solid wack against the frame.

As blood streams down your head, his focus switches. The majority of his attacks landing on your torso.

With you curled up on the floor, wheezing and gasping for breath, the assault finally stops. But not out of mercy. Even through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the outburst of gunfire in the distance.

Both your dad and his man rush out, leaving you locked away. While it's for an equally terrifying reason, you're thankful to have this time to catch your breath. Although every laborious intake brings agony.

After some time, light floods back into the room, your father standing in the doorway outlined by the setting sun. "I'm sorry Darling. If I had to do this, I hoped it would be a bit more ceremonious. But we don't have the time for that now."

You gasp at him raising his gun at you. He shoots three times. One in your chest, one in your shoulder and one in your stomach.

The shock, the impact takes the breath from you. And you can't draw it back in. Your eyes glassing over, your head filled with nothing but white noise. Feeling a fleeting moment of relief as everything goes quiet and dark.

"Fuck. No!" Yoongi howls. He, Jin and two 2nd ranks had chased after your father as he fled.

Bangtan's siege on his property was highly successful till that point, and he had run downhill to the storage garage. Looking to make a getaway.

The other's continue after him as Yoongi stumbles into you. His steely outer shell crumbling away the moment he sees your body limp and bleeding out.

Falling beside you he leans over shaking and in tears. Kissing your lips gently with heartfelt pleas "I'm sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this. Please."

Jin doubles back, watching distraught from the entrance as his brother falls apart.

Lifting your head up, Yoongi brings your forehead to his. The movement making you splutter blood. The first sign of life that either of the men had seen.

"Holy fuck, she's alive." Jin gawks, jumping in beside Yoongi pressing on the hole in your stomach. The bullet in your shoulder and chest had both hit bone, stopping the slug from going through, blocking the wounds from severe blood loss. The bullet in your torso shot through your bowls and thankfully not through your vital organs. Meaning your chances of survival were much higher. It was either 3 highly unlucky shots or three precisely placed ones.

"I'm so sorry Y/n." Yoongi's in shock. Devastated and guilt-ridden, and unable to make himself function.

"Dude, get your shit together or she's not gonna make it." Jin smacks the side of his brothers head, snapping him out of his grief-stricken daze.

"Can you save her?" He asks rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Not a chance. But I can keep her alive for a minute until we get to the clubhouse. Call the doc, tell him to meet us there." Jin orders, having much more clarity at this moment. "And get the boys to bring the car around. We're going to need a few of us to move her."

Yoongi follows Jin's lead, wiping the blood from his hands onto his pants to dial.

"Think of it this way," Jin smiles shortly, trying to soothe Yoongi's fear and panic with an ill-timed joke. "If she survives, at least she'll have proved she's Bangtan."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #bts yoongi #min yoongi #mafia!bts #Mafia!yoongi #bts yandere

432 notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

1K notes · View notes