#all bets are off if should I find a worthy recipient

[shortshifter]

Part 1 of [somewhat] functional tiny in the internet I’m mostly succeeding at not buying (for now)

Just saying, if I DID meet a small being, could easily hook them up thanks to the modern functional miniature scene 👀 I have much restraint as it currently stands…for now

[tearsofthemis]

Tears of Themis : Chapter 1 “Social Snobbery” Part 1

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

Location- Industrial Warehouse

(Early in the morning, a bustle of movement disturbed the quiet night at a raw chemical warehouse situated in Stellis City’s Industrial Zone. A group of warehouse clerks that should have been on break opened the warehouse doors as they manned robots that lugged barrel after barrel of raw materials which were loaded on carts.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, please report on the investigation progress.”

(The man called Raven moved to hide himself behind storage containers, and adjusted his night-vision goggles, turning on thermal imaging.)

Man on Comms: “Raven, do you copy? Did something happen to you?”

(Raven tapped on his earpiece three times and silenced it. The voice in the comms was effectively cut with it.)

Warehouse Clerk A: “These late night shifts are awful, what sorta business couldn’t we have left for tomorrow morning?”

Warehouse Clerk B: “Shut your trap; the sooner you stop complaining, the faster we can finish our job.”

Warehouse Clerk A: “Speaking of, where did Minister Xu go? He was…”

Warehouse Clerk B: “I told you to shut it! Are you daft?”

(The reprimanded clerk scratched their neck and went quiet. Soon after, the raw materials were loaded into the truck, and they drove away. The opening and closing of the warehouse doors, and even the workers’ small dispute, was semi-audible through Raven’s earpiece. His brows furrowed. He must have picked up something in their conversation… either that, or he was simply dissatisfied with the quality of his gear.)

Raven: “An abnormal delivery…”

(His fingers were like a blur as he typed away on his smart watch, pulling up information on the warehouse owners. Raven pressed his earpiece, and sent his last transmission of the night.)

Raven: “He Yin, Ya Ning, no anomalies detected. Mark Hai O’Sen.”

Without waiting for a confirmation on the other end, Raven turned and stalked away with the stealth of a black leopard, fading into the pitch black tar of the night…

~~~~~~

Location- Outside the Law Firm

(It’s Saturday morning, and the CBD building is quiet. Compared to the usual hub hub from workers rushing about on a business day, the silent streets were quite unsettling.)

MC: “Should I go pick up something sweet? It’s been tough working overtime to prepare for the exam, I ought to treat myself! I guess that’s decided!” 

(Just as I walked through the office doors, I nearly crashed into a deliveryman as he halted me on the way to the dessert shop.)

Delivery Man: “Excuse me, is uh… mis Law Firm in this building?”

MC: “This is Themis Law Firm, who are you looking for?”

MC: (Themis, the goddess of good council’s, name is difficult to pronounce… Even if Zhai Xing came up with the name with good implications, she seems to have failed to consider whether or not the name would even stick with others.)

Delivery Man: “Does Zuo Ran work here? I have a package under his name.”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo? He’s off today, so he won’t be in. Can I accept the parcel on his behalf? I’m also a lawyer at Themis, I can show you my work badge.”

[Game Instructions: Enter your name]

Delivery Man: “By our policy, it does have to be the intended recipient… but a lawyer is worthy of being trusted; I’ll have to ask you to forward it then.”

MC: “I-it’s heavy! I should put this down before heading to the dessert shop.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Huu… what a heavy package. It must be case files again, why can’t they just send it over electronically…”

MC: “Eh? Lawyer Zuo?!”

(I-is this the Zuo Ran I’ve come to know? The chief of Themis, the youngest elite lawyer in the industry, Zuo Ran? He sat, slouched in the leather chair, as the first rays of the morning sun shone through the windows and onto his face, but it did little to erase the fatigue that had settled between his brows. At this moment, he appeared almost as if he were a traveler who had just returned from a perilous and long journey, and had finally put down his heavy bags and had a moment to breathe. But not before the weariness settled in.)

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you....” Zuo Ran: “MC, it’s you?”

MC: “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, so I entered without knocking…”

(Zuo Ran loosened his tie and sighed. Compared to his usual immaculately pressed suit, seeing him like this was like unlocking something that wasn’t meant to be seen by others.)

Zuo Ran: “It’s alright…”

~~~

[Investigate Zuo Ran’s tie]

MC: (Lawyer Zuo changes his tie everyday… This is the same tie that he wore yesterday, it seems like he stayed overnight at the Law Firm.)

~~~

[Investigate books]

MC: (What’s this? I’ve never seen these books in Lawyer Zuo’s office before. “Undecided Event Book”... the name is so strange. Is this Lawyer Zuo’s new case? Unless… it’s some kind of weird novel he’s been reading?

~~~

[Investigate papers]

MC: (Isn’t this in regards to the trans-national trade dispute? The client has been quite unreasonable; perhaps that’s the reason for Lawyer Zuo’s troubles. Zhai Xing has urged Lawyer Zuo to find someone to help him with his workload many times. Although I don’t know how Lawyer Zuo feels about her suggestion.)

~~~

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you look really pale, are you sick? “

(Zuo Ran pressed his temples as his brows knit together.)

Zuo Ran: “I’m alright, nothing’s wrong.”

MC: (Are you really alright?)

(Zuo Ran’s voice sounded raspy. It seems like he is mustering up strength just to respond to my questions.)

MC: “I’ll go make you some coffee, I’ll leave your package on the ottoman.”

Zuo Ran: “Alright, I’ll have to trouble you for that much.”

~~~

Location- Break Room

MC: “Lawyer Zuo must’ve worked overtime the entire night, right? Those strange books and files on his desk… did he take up a new case? If that’s how hard elite lawyers work, I have to ramp up my efforts! I must pass the intermediate exams!”

(An enticing aroma wafted from the coffee maker. Just as I was preparing Zuo Ran’s mug, someone’s device started vibrating.)

MC: “Hm?” (The notifications were coming from a tablet beside the coffee maker. I pressed the power button, and the screen lit up to life.)

~~~

[Investigate notification]

MC: “‘Sky-high copyright lawsuit verdict: XueYu Jewelry won the case!’... The push notification is from a news outlet. XueYu Jewelry’s case was handled by Lawyer Zuo; of course he would come out on top! I’ve never heard of Lawyer Zuo losing a case, but everyone else claims he wins 99% of the cases he handles… perhaps he lost a case before he came to Themis?”

~~~

[Investigate passcode]

MC: “Unrecognized fingerprint, I can’t unlock it…”

~~

[Investigate back of tablet]

MC: “A YingYuan sticker? Isn’t this the idol that ChengCheng has been obsessing over? This must be ChengCheng’s tablet. She’s so scatterbrained, always misplacing things. I bet she’s probably at home searching for her tablet...”

~~~~~~

(Just as I was about to set the tablet down, the screen lit up with yet another notification.)

MC: “A Genetic drug for cancer treatment released, YanNing Biology Company writes a new chapter in medical advancement! A new medicine, again? There’s been a lot of funding being invested in the development of medicine. Aside from YanNing Biology, the HeYin Pharmaceuticals development isn’t trivial, either. That market’s competition must be fierce! Though, that’s just good news for patients.”

~~~~~~

Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, coffee’s ready.”

Zuo Ran: “I appreciate it, thanks.”

(By the time I came back, Zuo Ran had begun to organize the case files. He was focused as he poured over the information, and the fountain pen between his fingers did not rest as it took notes and circled important details. Judging by the parcel wrapping in his trash bin, I’m guessing he has already begun looking into the new case. I carefully brush aside some of the documents and place the coffee mug by his hand.) MC: “Is this an urgent case? I think you should rest for a bit.”

Zuo Ran: “No need. It’s Saturday, why are you here?”

MC: “I’m preparing for the intermediate lawyer exam. I thought if I studied at Thermis, it would be easier to reference information.”

Zuo Ran: “I see. If you need help, you can come find me, I’ll be here the whole day.”

MC: “That’s great! Thank you, Lawyer Zuo! Lawyer Zuo, you probably haven’t had anything to eat all day, have you? I’m about to go…”

(The office doorbell suddenly rang.)

Zuo Ran: “We have guests?”

MC: “I’ll go take a look.”

Zuo Ran: “If it’s anything you can’t handle, send them to my office.”

MC: “Will do.” ~~~~~~

Location- Themis Law Firm’s Reception Area

(By the front door, a man and a woman are arguing.)

Man: “Xue XinRan, the old man has already accepted his fate. Why do you need to go to such lengths? Filing a case is just a waste of money. If you really wanna go through the hassle, why not employ our MeiWeiKa PR agency? We can guarantee your ‘QingPing Restaurant Scandal’ be served without any dirt.”

Xue XinRan: “What nonsense! Lu HaiYang, you’re lying through your teeth! MeiWeiKa only looks to squeeze money from us merchants; you’ve never cared about anyone’s well-being!”

(Suddenly, the man named Lu HaiYang stepped toward Xue XinRan and grabbed her wrist.)

Lu HaiYang: “Watch what you say, Xue XinRan. Our company has prestige, and it isn’t something that can be uprooted by the words of a country bumpkin.

MC: “Sir, this is a Law Firm, I ask that you remain respectful!”

(I separated the two, and pushed XinRan behind me.)

-------

[Masterlist] | [Next Part]

-------

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co Editor: @hallowsivy​ 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo. 

《VOICE ACTORS》 Xia Yan | Jin Xian: https://weibo.com/riceranger Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu Lu HaiYang | Zhang Pei: https://weibo.com/u/1937059462 Xue XinRan | V17-Su Wan: https://weibo.com/u/2925530143

《OFFICIAL ACCOUNTS》 Official website: https://bbs.mihoyo.com/wd/ Official WeChat account:  未定事件簿  Mihoyo official website: https://wd.mihoyo.com/

[elcorhamletlive]

fandom: MCU (Post-Avengers) relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Clint Barton & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark & Thor, Nick Fury & Avengers Team, Maria Hill & Avengers Team, Nick Fury & Tony Stark tags: POV Outsider, Fluff and Humor, Team Feels, Truth Serum My fic for the Holiday Exchange, for talesofsuspense! Summary: “Look, I’m not thrilled by the prospect of spending my day here either," Nick said, "but there’s no postponing this. We can’t give them a chance to combine stories.”

“Right,” Hill said. “And I’m sure they’ll all be very…cooperative.”

“Hope you didn’t have any dinner plans."

Hill’s sigh mirrored his own so much it was unnerving. “Okay.” She leaned forward and pressed a button on his desk. “Send in the first one.”

Hill flipped through the pages, making the already thin folder appear even smaller. “Not much of a starting point,” she said.

Nick leaned back in his chair. “No,” he agreed. The report from Stark’s A.I. was very brief, and the rest was just what the scavenging team managed to comb through from the quinjet debris. “The press will not be satisfied with that. And there is a key part missing. We deliver this to the Council, they laugh in our faces.”

Hill raised an eyebrow at him. “So our job is to make the folder thicker?”

“Our job is to understand what happened,” he replied. “So we can deliver them something slightly more coherent, and they can feed the reporters whatever they want.”

“And you think this will work?” Hill gestured to the room around them. Across the desk where she was sitting, on a perfect diagonal view from Nick’s eye, there was a single, empty chair. “Seems like a criminal interrogation.”

“Maybe it is,” Nick said. He wasn’t sure if the superficial report was an intentional cover up or just plain sloppiness – both were equally likely when you had people like Romanoff or Stark in the middle of an OP – but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. There was a hole in the story, and the World Security Council didn’t deal with holes. “Look, I’m not thrilled by the prospect of spending my day here either, but there’s no postponing this. We can’t give them a chance to combine stories.”

“Right,” Hill said. “And I’m sure they’ll all be very… cooperative.”

“Hope you didn’t have any dinner plans,” Nick quipped.

Hill’s sigh mirrored his own so much it was unnerving. “Okay.” She leaned forward and pressed a button on his desk. “Send in the first one.”

-

“There isn’t much to tell,” Romanoff said, and, if Nick wasn’t sure there was something being hidden before, now he did. “I believe JARVIS sent you a detailed account, didn’t he?”

“Depending on what you consider ‘detailed,’” Nick replied. The report had extensively covered the material damage to the quinjet, as well as the information pertaining to AIM’s plan and how it related to it. It was just lacking in the “explanations” department, and it seemed to jump in key time periods between events very hurriedly. Either Stark’s robot was a shit storyteller, or the human factor (specifically the “what the fuck were your team of freaks thinking to let something like this happen, director?” factor) had been strategically avoided.

And there was the matter of the tapes. The security footage recovered from AIM’s quinjet seemed to cover just about every angle of the battle - that is, up until a point right where everything just faded to static before it returned just in time to record the crash.

“This is standard procedure,” he continued as Romanoff’s eyes studied him attentively. “Which, I’d like to stress, is actually a kind way to go about it.” Romanoff quirked an eyebrow at him. “The Avengers initiative isn’t the most popular plan SHIELD has ever come up with, agent. To the world, you might be celebrities, but a lot of people on the inside see you as - how did Banner put it? Oh, yeah - a time-bomb.”

Romanoff smiled. “We’ve made it work so far.”

“Only barely,” Nick said. Romanoff didn’t deny it, nor could she - ever since they had all decided to stay at Stark’s tower, after the battle of New York, Nick had kept his eye close on their performances, be it on the field or with the press, and though the initial animosity seemed to have lessened, they were still a far cry from a synchronized, united team.

The Council had been against them moving in together - there was just too much potential for the proximity to make things go south again - but Nick had argued in favor, and they ultimately decided to allow it. Nick himself knew he was making a risky bet, but at the end of the day, he figured a bunch of anti social people on the edge of normal society had a better chance of making it as a team if they could at least learn how to deal with each other on a friendly basis. And Stark putting the damn A on the tower was as close as he’d ever get to admitting he wanted the company, so Nick didn’t want to deny him it. Hill had a laugh at his expense, then, saying he was getting old and soft.

None of them knew about any of this, of course, and they would never find out. But if Nick Fury made a bet, he wanted to ensure it’d pay off, and crashing a quinjet belonging to one the world’s largest weapons manufacturers in the middle of rural property of the some of the richest people in America was far from a reward, especially while keeping potentially vital bits of information in the dark. That wouldn’t do, and he was determined to get the full picture of what had gone down, whether they liked or not.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, agent?” Hill suggested.

Romanoff’s eyes blinked astutely before she smiled. “Of course,” she said, much more kindly than Nick would have anticipated. “It started at the fair.”

-

“I wouldn’t normally have come,” Dr. Banner said, straightening his glasses. “The events we get invited to, they're… not my usual scene.”

“Too many reporters?” Nick asked. He knew Banner wasn’t the press’ favorite target - Stark and Rogers, both recipients of huge celebrity fame way before anyone added superhero worship into the mix, were tied up for that position - but he also knew the Avengers in general were the go-to topic for any gossip show running out of material. The fascination with them pendulumed from healthy curiosity to obsessive speculation way too often for Nick’s liking.

“Too many people,” Banner said, with a nervous smile. “The other guy doesn’t like crowds. But AIM said they were interested in having me and Tony speak. ‘The science bros.’” He made air quotes. “Or something. And, well, it was a nice idea to hang on a science exposition. I looked through the flier, and there were some interesting exhibits.”

-

“The whole thing was just a blatant rip off of the Stark Expo. But you know how it goes – imitation, flattery, yadda yadda.” Stark leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk as if it was his office. “So, we get the invite, and, not going to lie, I was a little curious. Pep said we should make an appearance, smile a little, make niceties – but, well, you know me.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the display. “We do?”

Stark smiled. “I don’t like to do things halfway. I’m just not built for it.” He shrugged. “So I decided to come, and I thought it would be good if everyone else came too, and that we should try out some of the exhibits together – team bonding, you know? Sometimes it’s nice.”

-

“Stark wanted to show off,” Barton said, taking a sip of his water. “He thought there was no way Hammer’s people could organize something on that scale, and he wanted to drag us all there to see it because he was sure it would end up being a huge mess.” He sighed. “I guess at the end of the day, he wasn’t wrong.”

-

Rogers’ jaw clenched so hard Nick thought he’d pull a muscle. “Everything went normally. We got there, took some pictures, got inside… Nothing out of the ordinary.” He looked at Hill. “But, like I said, this is all in JARVIS’ report.”

“Right,” Nick replied. He tilted his head to get a better look. Rogers was as tense as a wood board, and his effort to not let it show made things a lot worse. “I have to say, Cap, I was a little surprised to not get the usual report coming from you.”

Rogers shifted on the chair. “Tony—” He cleared his throat. “We, uh, we thought JARVIS would make one more quickly.” His eyes turned towards Fury, defiant. “From what I understand, every piece of information the Council needs should be in that file.”

“Need and want are two very different things,” Nick said. Rogers took a deep breath, and Nick couldn’t help but frown. “So, you guys started to mingle, right?” he asked, wanting things to get back on track. “That was when you decided to go to Hammer’s stand?”

“Yes. He… invited us.” He paused. “Well, Tony, at least.”

“Right,” Nick said. “But you also ended up going, right?” Rogers gave a reluctant nod. “Why?”

There was a moment of silence, and Rogers said, “It seemed like it could be an interesting experience.”

-

“Stark dared him to do it,” Thor stated bluntly. “Said Steven was probably too scared to lose to him.” He smiled, amused. Nick was fighting against the urge to underestimate him, but boy, was it hard. “It reminded me of some of my disputes with my brother, when we were both younglings and daring ourselves to attempt to steal Heimdall’s helmet.”

“Well, that’s a nice thing to hear about two adults who are constantly in charge of saving the world,” Nick deadpanned.

Thor looked at him disapprovingly. “They are worthy warriors,” he said. “They just… get a little wrapped up in their blind spots, sometimes.” Nick and Hill stared at him questioningly, and Thor looked away, coughing on his hand. “Uh, well, where was I? Right – the stand.”

-

“It was a silly concept – melt stuff with our new laser project, whoever melts the most wins, woohoo! - but I’ll admit it seemed like it could be fun. It took place in a separate room, though, and they were only letting two people in at once.” Stark straightened his tie, looking away from Nick for the first time since he walked inside the office. “So me and Cap decided to try it out.”

“Why just the two of you?” Hill asked, precise as a whip.

Stark stayed focused on his tie. “Well, I wanted to check out what was so great that Hammer was showing off in public. As for Cap, who knows? You should probably ask him.”

“So it was a spontaneous thing?” Nick pushed. “You didn’t ask him to come along?”

Finally, Stark looked at him. For a second, his expression was downright defiant. Then it all melted away in a shrug. “I might’ve. I wasn’t driving back home, you know? So I had a few drinks, and I was saying a lot of things, and maybe I asked if he wanted to try it out.”

“We heard you dared him,” Nick countered. Normally he wouldn’t put the cards on the table like that, but something in Stark seemed to favor a more direct approach.

Stark’s expression didn’t change. “Again, I might’ve. What’s life without a little challenge, right? But, still, if you want to know why he came in the stand, you should probably ask him.” His eyes darted towards the window, avoiding Nick and Hill. “Maybe he just… needed a distraction. He hates those things.” Nick tilted his head, noticing the strange thoughtfulness in his voice, but as soon as it came it was gone, and Stark was rambling at rapid fire speed again. “Anyway, I suppose this is where I get to the gas, right?”

-

Hill turned a page of the folder. “This is where the truth serum got them, right?”

Barton gave them a lopsided smile. “Stark would blow a fuse if he heard you calling it that,” he said. “But, yeah. Exactly.”

read the rest on ao3!

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Star Trek The Next Generation Season 1 (3 of 6)

As we draw close to crossing the first month of 2021 off the calendar to make room for February, which in my view is only of use for Pancake Day and nothing more, I’m back with yet more reviews from the first season of Star Trek: TNG.  Will these episodes prove any better than those of the first two rounds, or are we looking at more lemons with warp engines?  Let’s find out…

Episode 10: Hide and Q

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise is en route to Quadra Sigma to aid colonists caught in a methane explosion when Q re-appears and demands that they abandon their mission to compete in a game. He teleports Commander Riker and the bridge crew, with the exception of Captain Picard, to a barren landscape and appears in front of them wearing a uniform of a Napoleonic era French marshal. He explains the rule of the game is to stay alive, and after Lt. Yar refuses to compete, he transports her back to the bridge of the Enterprise in a "penalty box".

 Q returns to the bridge too, to talk Picard into setting a wager. He explains that the Q Continuum is testing Commander Riker to see if he is worthy of being granted their powers. Picard, having the utmost faith in his First Officer, takes the bet, as winning it would mean Q would get off their backs. Meanwhile, Riker and his team are attacked by what Lt. Worf reports as "vicious animal things" wearing French soldier uniforms from the Napoleonic era and armed with muskets that fire energy bolts instead of the classic projectiles. Q returns to Riker and tells him that he has granted him the powers of the Continuum, and Riker promptly returns his crew mates to the ship but remains behind with Q to ultimately reject the powers. Q brings the crew back to the landscape, this time without their phasers and with Picard. The crew are attacked once more by the aliens, and both Worf and Wesley Crusher are killed. Riker uses the powers of the Q to return the crew again and bring both Worf and Wesley back to life.

 Riker makes a promise to Picard never to use the powers again and the ship arrives at Quadra Sigma. A rescue team beams down and discovers a young girl who has died. Riker is tempted to save her, but in the end, he refuses to do so out of respect for his promise. However, he quickly shows signs of regret at this decision, which he expresses to the captain. Tension between Picard and his first officer grows as Riker now seems to be embracing his powers, and his behaviour toward the crew begins to change. At Q's suggestion, and with Picard's blessing, Riker uses his powers to give his friends what he believes they want, turning Wesley into an adult, giving La Forge normal sight in place of his visor, and creating a Klingon female companion for Worf. All the recipients reject their gifts, however, with Data even anticipating and declining Riker's attempt to make him human. Picard declares that Q has failed, and when Q attempts to go back on his word, he is forcibly recalled to the Continuum. Picard is pleased to see Q gone, and praises Riker for confirming his trust in his "Number One". 

Review:

There are two main reasons to enjoy this episode; Q and Picard.  This is the first time since the pilot that we’ve seen Q and Picard interact, and it’s much better this time because both the actors are a bit more at grips with their characters.  The scene in the Captain’s ready room between the pair where they both quote Shakespeare is one of the real highlights of the first season, a veritable miniature diamond in a season-long run of rough.  In some respects, it’s almost a pity Picard-Q meet-ups aren’t more frequent, but ultimately, I think that they have to be done as little as possible to retain some impact in the later seasons.

 Unfortunately, the episode lacks sufficient subtlety in trying to convey a story about power corrupting.  The key reason why the Dark Phoenix story in the X-Men comics is a classic that no adaptation has ever effectively captured is because it involves Jean Grey being corrupted by power slowly, inch by inch, until circumstances push her over the edge.  When the Primarch Horus is turned to Chaos in the Horus Heresy novels that form part of Warhammer 40,000 lore, it’s not an overnight transformation from the noble being he was to the power-mad tyrant laying waste to Terra years later.  It’s a slow, gradual seduction by power, and a single episode of any TV show doesn’t give that.

 As a result, the idea of Riker’s shift in character and attitude seems too rapid and falls flat.  The only thing that doesn’t fall flat is how the rest of the cast reacts when Riker tries to act with benevolence.  It’s a testament to each of them how they resist being granted their supposedly fondest wishes.  I especially applaud Geordi and the autistic-like Data for their choices.  I never like stories that try to push the idea that characters who are somehow differently abled, either blatantly or through the metaphor of a genre-specific concept, should always want to eliminate that difference.  Maybe Geordi can’t see like everyone else, but considering all the different things he can see with his visor, it’s not like the vision he has is any better or worse. It’s just a pity his reason for saying no was more about not liking a Q-style Riker than about accepting himself and all the goodness inherent in that. 

Add in Troi not being around at a time when her character could be very annoying without much effort, and you’ve got an episode that has many saving graces propping up a poor execution of a decent core concept.  End score for this one, probably 7 out of 10.

 Episode 11: Haven

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise arrives at the planet Haven, where the ship's half-Betazoid Counsellor Deanna Troi has been summoned by her mother Lwaxana. Deanna had previously been set into an arranged marriage to the young human doctor, Wyatt Miller, and his parents have since tracked down Lwaxana to enforce the marriage. After Lwaxana and the Millers are welcomed aboard the Enterprise, the parents argue over whose cultural traditions will be honoured at the ceremony. Deanna and Wyatt attempt to get to know each other but find it difficult, as Deanna is still in love with Commander William Riker. Wyatt has had numerous dreams of another woman with whom he has fallen in love, and had initially believed her to be Deanna communicating telepathically with him.

 The Enterprise then learns of an unmarked vessel approaching Haven. Captain Picard recognizes it as Tarellian, a race they thought to have been wiped out by a highly lethal and contagious virus. When they contact the ship, they find a handful of Tarellian refugees who have been travelling at sub-light speeds to Haven in hopes of finding an isolated location to live out the rest of their lives in peace. Picard insists that they cannot go to the planet for fear of spreading the virus, and has the Tarellian vessel placed in a tractor beam. Wyatt discovers that one of the Tarellians, Ariana, is the woman from his dreams, and she too recognizes Wyatt. Wyatt tells Dr Crusher that he will transport some medical supplies to them, but transports himself along with the supplies. When the crew discovers this, Wyatt's parents demand that Picard bring Wyatt back to the Enterprise, but Denna insists that he cannot return, as Wyatt would now carry the Tarellian virus. Wyatt promises his parents, Deanna, and the rest of the crew that he knew that this would be his destiny, and is happy to try to help cure the Tarellian virus. Wyatt convinces the Tarellians to leave Haven and search for help elsewhere. Picard orders the tractor beam to be dropped and allows the vessel to depart the system. 

Review:

When it comes to Majel Barrett in the era of the TNG-DS9-Voyager shows, her best work as a guest star is her voice work as the voice of any given Starfleet computer.  Her worst work is when she’s guest-starring as Deanna Troi’s mother. Her whole character is the very definition of nails on a chalk board, and it’s very rare if ever that an episode featuring her can be anything good.  That said, her presence does help to improve Deanna’s character just because it means Deanna’s suddenly no longer the most likely to irk you with her characterisation.  Basically, anytime Deanna’s on the screen at this early stage in the show, all I can think is “please don’t have her go all over-sensitive like she did in the pilot.”

 Leaving the Troi family aside, the episode isn’t much to get excited about.  Just a run-of-the-mill b-plot about a plague ship that interconnects with the main plot nicely to save us from the Trek equivalent of a shotgun wedding. Frankly, I’d have preferred it if they’d done a plot exploring the arranged marriage idea and casting it down as the terrible idea it is, but then I suppose it wouldn’t be politic to do that with a culture that is part-and-parcel of the Federation instead of being the guest-race-of-the-week.  I’d give this one about 3 out of 10.

 Episode 12: The Big Goodbye

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise heads to Torona IV to open negotiations with the Jarada, an insect-like race that are unusually strict in matters of protocol. After practicing the complex greeting the Jarada require to open negotiations, Captain Jean-Luc Picard decides to relax with a Dixon Hill story in the holodeck. Playing Detective Hill in the holo-program, Picard takes up the case of Jessica Bradley, who believes that Cyrus Redblock is trying to kill her. Picard decides to continue the program later and leaves the holodeck to affirm their estimated arrival at Torona IV. He invites Dr Beverly Crusher and historian crewmember Whalen to join him in the holodeck. While Crusher is still preparing, Picard and Whalen are ready to enter the holodeck when Lt. Commander Data arrives, having overheard Picard's invitation. Entering the holodeck, the three discover that Jessica has been murdered in Picard's absence. As Picard explains that he saw Jessica at his office the day before, Lt. Bell brings Picard into the police station for questioning as a suspect in her murder. Meanwhile, the Enterprise is scanned from a distance by the Jarada, causing a power surge in the holodeck external controls. Dr Crusher later enters the holodeck, first experiencing a momentary glitch with the holodeck doors, and joins her friends at the police station.

 The Jarada demand their greeting earlier than the agreed time and are insulted at having to talk to anyone other than the Captain. The crew tries to communicate with Picard in the holodeck but finds it impossible; the Jarada signal has affected the holodeck's functions, preventing the doors from opening or allowing communication with the crew inside. Lt. Geordi La Forge and Wesley Crusher attempt to repair the holodeck systems. While inside the holodeck, the group returns to Dixon's office. Mr. Leech appears, having waited for Picard, demanding he turn over an object he believes Jessica gave him. When Picard fails to understand, Leech shoots Dr. Whalen with a gun, and the crew discovers that the safety protocols have been disabled, as Whalen is severely wounded. As Dr Crusher cares for his wound, Picard and Data discover that the holodeck is malfunctioning, and they are unable to exit the program. Mr. Leech is joined by Redblock, who continues to demand the object. Lt. McNary arrives and becomes involved in the standoff. Picard tries to explain the nature of the holodeck, but Redblock refuses to believe him. 

Outside, Wesley finds the glitch; however, he cannot simply turn off the system for fear of losing everyone inside. Instead, Wesley resets the simulation, briefly placing Picard and the others in the middle of a snowstorm before finding themselves back in Dixon's office. With the reset successfully clearing the malfunction, the exit doors finally appear. Despite Picard's warnings, Redblock and Leech exit the holodeck, but dissipate as they move beyond the range of its holo-emitters. As they leave the holodeck, Picard thanks McNary, who now suspects that his world is artificial and asks whether Picard's departure is "the big goodbye", to which Picard replies that he simply doesn't know. Picard reaches the bridge in time to give the proper greeting to the Jarada. The Jarada accept the greeting, heralding the start of successful negotiations.

 Review:

The Big Goodbye has a special place in the era of holodeck era of Trek as the first example of a “holodeck-gone-wrong” episode.  Later episodes of this series and the spin-off shows Deep Space Nine and Voyager would return to the premise of holodeck malfunctions time and again as either minor or major plot points.  Unfortunately, the holodeck is already going wrong as a plot device in the show just from a technical realisation standpoint.

 The basic idea of the holodeck is that it creates 3D images that resemble whatever is programmed into the computer, with some kind of force-fields giving the images substance while other aspects of the technology fill in the proverbial blanks (e.g. special programming to create interactive characters, localised environmental controls, etc.)  However, everything that exists within the holodeck can only exist within the range of the room’s tech; if anything created by the holodeck moves beyond its walls, it should instantly cease to be.  However, in the Farpoint pilot, Wesley Crusher fell into water on the holodeck, and when he walked out into the corridor, he remained wet and dripping when all the holographic water should have disappeared the instance he walked through the exit. 

Likewise, in this episode Picard picks up a lipstick mark when he first tries the holodeck’s new upgrades, and that should have disappeared when he later briefs the crew in the observation lounge. Instead, Dr Crusher has to wipe the lipstick off for the captain, despite the fact it should have disappeared from Picard’s face long ago.  It’s an annoying issue, and one that could have been easily fixed even back in the 1980’s when this show was made; evidently, this was just another example of how bad the show was at this stage.  If TNG ever gets the kind of reboot the original series did, I sincerely hope any use of the holodecks pays attention to and rectifies this error in the application of the holodeck concept. 

Otherwise, this episode doesn’t do much more than give Brent Spiner a bit more to do with Data by having him impersonate a 40’s-style gangers and give Patrick Stewart someone else to be besides the captain of the latest version of the Enterprise.  It’s a fairly well-made episode for season 1 of this show, and it really sells the illusion of the holodeck program for the most part.  The people who made the show just needed to learn that anything that gets made in the holodeck stays in the holodeck.  I’d give it about 5 out of 10. 

Episode 13: Datalore

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

While on the way to Starbase Armus IX for computer maintenance, the Enterprise arrives at the planet Omicron Theta, the site of a vanished colony where the starship Tripoli originally found the android Data. An away team travels to the surface and finds that what had been farmland is now barren with no trace of life in the soil. The team also finds a lab which they discover is where Dr. Noonien Soong, a formerly prominent but now discredited robotics designer, built Data. The team also find a disassembled android nearly identical to Data and return with it to the ship. As the course to the Starbase is resumed, the crew reassemble and reactivate Data's "brother" in sickbay. He refers to himself as Lore, and explains that Data was built first and he himself is the more perfect model. He feigns naiveté to the crew, but shows signs of being more intelligent than he is letting on. Later, in private, he tells Data that they were actually created in the opposite order, as the colonists became envious of his own perfection. He also explains that a crystalline space entity capable of stripping away all life force from a world was responsible for the colony's demise.

 Lore then incapacitates Data, revealing that he plans to offer the ship's crew to the entity. When a signal transmission is detected from Data's quarters, Wesley Crusher arrives to investigate. He finds Lore, now impersonating Data, who explains that he had to incapacitate his brother after being attacked. Wesley is doubtful, but pretends to accept the explanation. Soon after, the same crystalline entity that had attacked the colony approaches the ship. Lore, still pretending to be Data, enters the bridge as the object hovers before the Enterprise and explains that he incapacitated his brother by turning him off, causing Doctor Beverly Crusher to be suspicious, since Data had previously treated the existence of such a feature as a closely guarded secret. Lore then explains that he can communicate with the crystalline entity and suggests to Captain Jean-Luc Picard that he should show a demonstration of force by beaming an object toward the entity and then destroying it with the ship's phasers.

 Lore's attempts to imitate Data are imperfect, though initially only Wesley is suspicious, and his efforts to voice these concerns only draw rude rebukes from Picard and his mother. However, Picard does ultimately become suspicious, especially when Lore does not recognize Picard's usual command to "make it so". Although Picard sends a security detachment to tail him, Lore overpowers Lt. Worf and evades pursuit. Meanwhile, the suspicious Dr Crusher and Wesley reactivate the unconscious Data, and the three of them race to the cargo hold to find Lore plotting with the entity to defeat the Enterprise. When Lore discovers them, he threatens Wesley with a phaser and orders Dr Crusher to leave. Data quickly rushes Lore and a brawl ensues. Data manages to knock Lore onto the transporter platform, and Wesley activates it, beaming Lore into space. With its conspirator no longer aboard, the crystalline entity departs, and the Enterprise resumes its journey to the starbase.

 Review:

This episode very heavily relies on answering the mystery of Data’s origin and giving him a villainous brother in a manner similar to the Thor-Loki dynamic of Marvel superhero lore (pardon the inadvertent pun) to make it worth watching, because goodness knows it falls down everywhere else.  Spiner is remarkable playing the treacherous Lore alongside his regular character of Data, and it’s fun to see him make the best of what ultimately becomes a poor episode on other fronts. 

I know some reviewers have stated they don’t understand Lore’s motives for allying with the Crystalline Entity, but as a Marvel fan, it’s actually fairly easy to deduce.  Much like Loki in Marvel’s Thor franchise, Lore is a bit of a trickster, an android Q but without the pseudo-godhood or ultimately benign motives of Q.  Also like Loki, Lore is the unfavoured son, one who was basically cast aside in favour of something supposedly better, so he’s turned against the humanity his brother admires and emulates out of jealousy and the pain of rejection.  It’s not a hard motive to grasp, but with Lore not explicitly saying it, you need that knowledge of another fictional reference to make the deduction.  Given that Marvel lore was largely overlooked by the adult world until superheroes were made into a legitimate cinematic genre at the turn of the century, it’s unlikely many original reviewers would have made the link. 

However, as I’ve noted, the episode falls apart in other respects.  The crew’s haste to reassemble Data’s brother mid-flight is very risky behaviour more akin to the cowboy antics of Kirk’s crew from the original series than Picard’s more measured approach, and they are remarkably stupid in failing to catch onto Lore’s threat.  Only Wesley shows the requisite insight and intelligence, but expresses it poorly because at this time no one on the show could write Wesley with any kind of competence. As a result, Picard ends up looking like a total git for his outburst at Wesley, Wesley’s mother comes off almost as bad, and when it turns out that, as ever, Wesley was right, there’s no apology from Picard at all.  On balance, this episode rates about 5 out of 10, which can be taken as the anti-Wesley acting having a severely detrimental impact on a great Spiner performance, or a great Spiner performance saving the episode by some horrid Wesley-bashing. 

Episode 14: Angel One

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise arrives at the planet Angel One, which is ruled by an oligarchy of women. The ship is looking for survivors from the shipwrecked freighter Odin, over seven years after having been evacuated. The freighter was missing three escape pods and the only planet in range was Angel One. An away team consisting of Commander William Riker, Lt. Commander Data, Lt. Tasha Yar, and Counsellor Deanna Troi beam down to the surface. They attempt to negotiate with Mistress Beata, the "Elected One" of the native inhabitants, to let them search for the survivors. Time is of the essence however, as the Enterprise must travel to a Federation outpost near the Romulan Neutral Zone (where a group of Romulan Battlecruisers has been detected) as soon as they resolve their investigation into the Odin survivors.

 Beata reveals that they are aware of four male survivors of the Odin who have caused disruption in their society, and are considered fugitives. Beata requests Riker stay with her (and later requests that he order Troi, Data, and Yar to track down the survivors' camp and their leader Ramsey, while staying and dining with her). After some back and forth, Data concludes Ramsey and the survivors of the Odin would have platinum with them, and Angel One is naturally devoid of platinum, allowing the Enterprise to easily detect them. Meanwhile, Riker dresses in the garb given to him for his dinner with Beata, Troi and Yar tease him for dressing in clothes that sexualize him and, in some ways, demean him. He responds by saying he is honouring the local customs, and acknowledges Beata's beauty, and that the garb is rather comfortable.

 The Enterprise searches while in orbit around Angel One. Doctor Beverly Crusher relieves Captain Jean-Luc Picard of duty after he and most of the crew have fallen ill to a random virus on board. The Captain leaves Lieutenant Geordi La Forge in command (Geordi's first time in acting command of a starship). Shortly after, they find Ramsey and transmit his location to the Away Team, who beam directly to there. 

When confronted by Data, Yar, and Troi, Ramsey and his men, having taken wives and started families during the seven years, refuse to leave. Data points out that as the Odin was not a star fleet vessel, its crew is not bound by the Prime Directive and the Enterprise cannot remove them against their will. Geordi informs Yar of the medical situation on board, and that more Romulan ships have been detected near the Neutral Zone. Riker gets close to Beata as they compare how gender roles differ between Angel One and the Federation. On the Enterprise, systems are becoming harder to maintain with more crew succumbing to the virus. Geordi (after a friendly reminder from a sniffling Worf) remembers that in command, he must delegate tasks so he can stay on the bridge. Dr Crusher finds that the virus is an airborne organism that produces a sweet smell, to encourage inhalation, after which it becomes viral inside the body. 

Riker gets up to date with the situation, and decides that while Ramsey and his group are at large and refusing to leave the planet, there is little they can do. Before leaving they find that one of Beata's fellow mitstresses, Ariel, has married Ramsey, and was followed by Beata's guards to their camp, where they arrested the survivors and their families. The Away Team attempt to explain to Beata the reason for Ramsey's refusal to leave. Beata and her council reject his reasoning, and threatens to execute them the following day. After failing to convince Ramsey and his group to leave with them, Riker contacts the Enterprise in hopes of transporting Ramsey and his group without their consent (despite it being a violation of the Prime Directive, and almost certainly an end to his career).  However, Dr Crusher (while treating an incapacitated Geordi in the Captain's chair) refuses to allow anyone to beam aboard for fear of them being infected, but allows Data, an android, to return. Riker orders Data to take command and get the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone before it's too late.

 The following morning the Away Team is invited to witness the execution of Ramsey and his followers. Moments after Riker rejects their invitation Data makes contact and informs them that there is a 48-minute window in which Dr Crusher has to find a cure, and Riker must defuse the situation on the planet before the ship must leave for the Neutral Zone. On the planet, Ramsey and his men are prepared to be executed by disintegration despite Ariel's pleas, while Dr Crusher discovers a cure for the virus. Riker is prepared to have the away team and the Odin survivors beamed to the Enterprise, but makes a plea that execution will do Angel One’s society little good. He contends that Ramsey and his men have simply become a symbol for pre-existing dissatisfaction with the current society on Angel One, an evolutionary change that execution may only accelerate by turning Ramsey’s group into martyrs.

After deliberating with her fellow mistresses, Beata announces that she will stay the execution and banish Ramsey, his men, their families, and any others that support them to the far side of the planet. She explains that their banishment will not stop the fall of the oligarchy, but will slow it down enough that Beata will not be around to see its end. The away team return to the ship and Picard, already recovering from the virus but hardly having a voice, orders the ship to the Neutral Zone at high warp. 

Review:

Apparently, the idea of this episode was look at South Africa’s apartheid system, but using a gender-based schism in a female-dominated society to explore the concept along gender lines rather than being more direct and using anything akin to a racial divide.  As a result, the intention is lost behind some very horrendously sexist rubbish that makes the show seem more like a bad parody of feminism.  The episode also has a lousy b-plot of a virus story that adds nothing to the episode, and again showcases how badly the holodeck concept was being handled at this time.  A snowball from a holodeck skiing program should not be able to go through the holodeck doors to hit Picard and Worf in the corridor.  2 out of 10 is all this episode deserves.

[feynavaley]

Hetalia Fanfiction – Beyond the Breaking Point Ch 2

Summary: Caught between a rebellious teen fighting for his independence and an older brother struggling to be a parent, Matthew somatizes. Not drawing attention to his fake ailments seems the best way not to further stress the already precarious situation – but when Matthew takes his resolution a bit too far, all their lives are sent into a tailspin. (Human AU; ACE Family)

The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app. I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)

AO3 | FFN | First | Next | List

———

Chapter Two

The mattress under Matthew’s body was oddly hard. Something cold was pressed against his back and seeped into his pyjama top in wet, unpleasant patches.

Is this a joke from Al?

Matthew whimpered, tossing his head to a side. He was surprised to find a gloved hand touching his face. And, along with the hand, came a concerned voice that slowly started making sense above the ringing in his ears.

“Matthew? Matthew, can you hear me? Come on, Matthew…”

“Oh my God, he’s not dead. Oh, thank goodness.”

Matthew’s hazy brain finally recognized the first voice as belonging to Tolys.

What the…

He pried his eyes open. After a couple of blinks, the array of helmet-cased faces hovering over him lost its blurred edges. The closest one was Tolys, with terror glimmering in his eyes and his brow furrowed in concern.

“Am I dreaming?” Matthew wondered out loud in a weak voice, voicing the only explanation that could excuse the presence of his teammates around his bed.

“Man, he’s fucking delusional. For God’s sake, somebody needs to call an ambulance. I don’t care if we get in trouble, there’s something wrong with him!”

At Mikkel’s ominous words, the memories slammed against Matthew with the force of the waterfall. He gasped, his eyes widening as he tried to jerk up. Tolys’s hands pressed against his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Matthew! Don’t to get up! You fainted like that, you might be seriously hurt…”

Matthew shook his head. Tolys’s plea had suddenly made him aware of an uncomfortable throbbing in his lower abdomen, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony he remembered. It didn’t feel any worse than a painful bruise.

“N—no, I’m fine. Really, I am. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Matthew pushed Tolys’s hands away and sat up, schooling his features in determination as he looked at the boys surrounding him.

“Man, you just fainted,” Mikkel noted at his lefts, shifting on his skates. “This isn’t exactly the definition of ‘fine’.”

Before Matthew could even open his mouth to protest, Ivan’s voice followed Mikkel’s one.

“He’s right, Matthew. And I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I thought you would move away.”

Ivan was the only one standing a bit to the side, closer to the edge of the rink. He had taken off his helmet, putting on display his features, soft with regret. A hot wave of shame crept up over Matthew.

“It’s fine,” he murmured with a small shake of his head, “It’s my fault, I should have paid more attention. I was just… I hadn’t had lunch and I was feeling quite dizzy. You didn’t even hit me that hard, really, it’s nothing!”

The abated pain was undeniable proof of Matthew’s words. It was almost as if his entire body had needed a complete shut-down to rewire and start behaving normally again, without faking any pain. Matthew couldn’t believe he had been so pathetic…

“You did look a bit off the game when you got on the ice,” Lukas mused.

“But you still fainted,” Tolys remarked. In spite of having straightened up to give Matthew some space, he was still kneeling next to him, his hands hovering close as if ready to catch him. “This isn’t something to take lightly, you really need to get checked up…”

Several people nodded. Panic rose from Matthew’s chest to his throat, squeezing it an iron grip. An ambulance would mean being taken to the hospital, where his guardian would have to be notified.

Arthur.

The thought of his brother’s name brought along the recollection of his hollow face, of the exhaustion ebbing the light in his eyes. Arthur would be beside himself with concern, and it was the last thing he needed. Not over something so stupid that entirely depended on Matthew being a whiny kid who couldn’t control himself, especially.

He looked around, desperately trying to spot somebody who could support his cause… and with sudden clarity, the solution sparked inside his brain.

“Vasovagal syncope,” he blurted out.

The expressions around him shifted from concern to confusion.

“Vaso— what?” Mikkel voiced out the shared question.

“Vasovagal syncope. It’s a nervous response that makes your blood pressure suddenly drop, and you faint. It can be triggered by many things… sudden pain being one of them. It doesn’t even need to be such a severe pain, it just…” Matthew shrugged, struggling to keep his head high. The embarrassment wasn’t feigned, only the cause was. “It first happened after I twisted my ankle, and I just… passed out right there and then, without any warning. Arthur got a huge scare and brought me to the ER, but the doctor said it was that. Nothing serious. But, he also said it might happen again.”

At least, that was what Matthew had understood form Felicia’s explanation, who was the one who had fainted after twisting her ankle the previous spring. Matthew should probably feel bad. He remembered the concern clawing at his insides as he stared at Felicia’s unnaturally wan face, how an even more intense reflection of his own emotions had been echoed in Lovino’s features… in the end, the accident had cast a gloomy shadow over everybody’s day. At the moment, however, all Matthew could feel was mind-numbing gratitude for the perfect excuse it had offered him.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that!” Eduard commented with a nod.

“Is it truly nothing serious, then?” Ivan asked, a timid glimmer of hope gleaming in his violet eyes and softening his features.

Matthew nodded and offered his teammates the most confident smile he could muster.

“Yeah. Just a stupid nervous reaction. I mean, it did hurt, but not to the point of something serious. I just feel a bit sore, now, but I’m fine. I’m really sorry for making you worry like that…”

“The way you cried, though…” Mikkel muttered with a shake of his head, but Matthew could read the doubt in his features, just like he could clearly see how relief was starting to wash away the tension from many faces around him.

He knew he had them. He cracked a small, sheepish grin and ran a hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Don’t you cry when you stub your toe, too? Besides, I think it was mostly the surprise. There’s no need to call an ambulance over something like this, really. We can just keep practising, no need to waste time over this. I’m fine.”

To offer a concrete proof of his words, Matthew rose to his feet. His abdomen answered with a spike of pain, but it was bearable and soon faded to a dull throbbing.

Tolys stood up next to him.

“I really think you should get checked up,” he muttered, but his voice lacked resolution.

The team was using the ice rink without the coach being present, which was a clean break of the safety rules. If something happened, there was a high chance of everybody getting in trouble, and the consequences would be even more severe for the seniors.

“I’m fine,” Matthew reassured for the umpteenth time.

“Okay, we won’t call an ambulance,” Ivan decided, “But you aren’t getting back on the rink, Matthew. You still got hurt, and your head just isn’t in the game. You should just get a shower and go home, or you can stay and watch the rest of the practice, if you want. Just, no more playing.”

Matthew answered with an eager nod. Even the twinge of shame at the reproach couldn’t curb the relief that flooded him, washing away the tension. While not in severe pain anymore, he was thoroughly exhausted; his limbs felt heavy and he was lightheaded and sluggish from the prolonged lack of food. For once, he didn’t mind not playing.

“At least let me check your stomach,” Tolys pleaded as he followed Matthew out of the rink.

“It’s fine!” Matthew hissed, wrapping his arms around himself.

Tolys froze. At the stricken expression that warped his features, a pang of guilt twisted Matthew’s stomach, but he bit down the urge to apologize. The outburst had served its purpose, reminding Tolys of the reason Matthew didn’t like people seeing his naked torso. Tolys didn’t insist anymore, he was silent and expressionless as he followed Matthew to the changing room.

Matthew was aware that Tolys was more stubborn than people gave him credit for. He wasn’t surprised when, upon getting out of the shower, he caught him typing on the phone, with his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Matthew could bet the recipient of the message was Alfred.

He smiled inwardly. He was privy of a piece of information Tolys must have missed: after the last argument, Arthur had taken away Alfred’s phone and turned it off. Neither Alfred nor Arthur were going to know anything about the embarrassing episode for at least a couple of days. By then, Matthew would have been able to tell his own version and find a way to prevent them from worrying.

When Tolys went back to the team to join the training, Matthew climbed up on the bleachers, where he spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between doing his homework and catching glimpses of the team. For how much he regretted not taking part in the practice, seeing his teammates’ undeniable competence quelled down Matthew’s concerns and let him able to relax a bit. The match was going to be hard, but they would make a worthy opponent. In spite of Matthew’s mishaps, there was one part of his life that wasn’t in shambles yet.

At the end of the afternoon, the dull throbbing in Matthew’s abdomen had increased – but he had taken a hockey stick wielded by Ivan to the stomach, after all. The bruise was probably quite deep, Matthew should have expected it to give him some trouble. Besides, hurting more some hours after having been inflicted was normal for a bad bruise, and it wasn’t unbearable, yet. Could real pain be the answer Matthew needed to get rid of the shameful fake ones that often plagued him? It sounded odd, but worth investigating further.

Or maybe, not even that episode had been enough to let Matthew get a grip of himself. By the time he was in front of his house, the pain had increased to a bothersome level and he was feeling nauseous again. He wasn’t sure he would be able to eat supper, and that was shaping up to be a problem with the antibiotic… missing three times in a row was starting to look a bit too daring, even for Matthew’s standards. Matthew’s stomach dropped at the mere thought, but he knew that he had no alternative: he was going to have to tell Arthur.

He was still mulling over the best way to present the issue without making it sound too concerning when he opened the front door.

He wasn’t prepared for the tornado that hit him.

Matthew froze, paralyzed by the screams. He had forgotten that Alfred would be home, and, from the sound of it, something had sparked a big argument.

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to cross the doorway and dive into the storm. His stomach coiled painfully on itself, begging for him to double over.

Matthew knew what he had to do. He should walk past the living room, ignore everything and take refuge into the bedroom, where he could curl on the bed and drown out the sounds with a pair of earbuds and some music. He couldn’t stop his brain from decoding the sounds into words as he walked past the living room, however.

“—Why can’t you just accept that this isn’t what I want to do, Arthur? Why can’t you? I know that I could get good grades and go to university and everything, I know that I’m good enough, but maybe, I just don’t want to! I don’t want to waste the best years of my life getting stale as I sit at a desk, accomplishing nothing!”

“Alfred, that’s not—”

“I want to get out in the open, to do something that matters! School doesn’t. I’ll become a football player, I love doing it, and then I’ll be an inspiration to countless children. I’ll also be rich, do you know how many people I’ll be able to help, then? And I’ll be doing all that using my own money the way I want, nobody will be able to tell me where to stop and what to do! And what does studying matter, in all this? Not. A. Fucking. Thing. I don’t have to do school! Just let me go on with my life and play, I’ll show you what I can do!”

Matthew knew that he shouldn’t have, but his curiosity got the best of him. He peeked into the living room just in time to see Arthur slam Alfred’s binder against the table in frustration.

“Goddamnit Alfred, why can’t you use your brain and think, for once? Can’t you see how many holes are in your plan? You’re gifted with a great intelligence, just use it! What if it all goes wrong? If you don’t become famous as a football player, you’ll be left with nothing! If you just studied, you—”

Alfred stomped his feet, his clenched fists quivering.

“That’s why I need to train! If I train, I’ll be good enough to get taken into a famous team, and you know it far too well! But nooo, you can’t accept that anybody would choose anything different than a boring, mundane job, so you raise all this Hell over missing a couple of days of school for a football camp!”

“If your grades—”

“Some teammates of mine have far worse grades, but I don’t see any of their parents complaining! They’re all going, this isn’t the issue! The issue is that you have to decide what I can do with my life, and I’m tired of it, do you hear me?! I’m sick and tired of this!”

Matthew wasn’t unfamiliar with his brother being angry. He had already seen his red face, his chest heaving for breath. What he had never seen, however, was the unabated hate shining darkly in his eyes, the cruel sneer distorting his features. Matthew found himself paralyzed, the breath blocked in his chest.

“You’re not my father, Arthur! You’ll never be. You aren’t even my real brother, you’re just my stepbrother! You’re nothing to me! What right do you have to have any say in my life? None. You have no right! You’re just pretending to be my father, and doing quite a shitty job at it! Aunt Marianne was right. We should have never stayed with you!”

Arthur didn’t stop Alfred when he whirled around and stomped away, bristling with rage. His face was milky white, his eyes wide and heartbroken.

Matthew instinctively took a step back as Alfred walked past him without acknowledging his presence, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Arthur’s grief-stricken face. The wrongness of the entire vision felt like being stomped on the chest. His head was spinning, he wanted to be sick.

When Arthur turned, exhaling a shuddering breath that sounded painfully similar to a sob, Matthew wasn’t quick enough to pretend he hadn’t listened.

“Oh! Matthew.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair in a feeble attempt at pretending confidence. Matthew couldn’t miss the way his arm was shaking slightly, making his own stomach knot in turn.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to this. But don’t worry, all right? Your brother is just… going through a rough patch. He’ll come around, with time.”

Arthur’s shaky smile was as fake as his words.

Matthew wanted to scream. It had been months, when would Alfred ‘come around’? Never, if something didn’t change drastically. Matthew wanted to shake Arthur until he admitted it, but it wasn’t Arthur’s fault. In truth, he was suffering even more than Matthew himself.

He fought back the urge to burst into tears and answered with a nod.

“Y—yeah. He will. Soon, I hope.”

“So do I.” Arthur’s tired smile and grey skin spelt out all his exhaustion even louder than his words did. “But never mind him, how was your day? Ready for your big match?”

In spite of all the concern weighting on his shoulders, Arthur had remembered that Matthew had an important hockey match. How could Matthew be okay with worrying him even further?

He forced himself to ignore the painful stabs to his stomach and nod. He almost felt like a wooden puppet who could only perform a single movement, with all that nodding against his stiff muscles.

“We’re doing great!” The enthusiasm he tried to inject into his words sounded fake, too weak. “But it was quite tiring. I… if it’s all right, I’ll just take my antibiotic and go to bed. It’s already half past seven, and I don’t need to have dinner, Iryna brought a cake to cheer us up…”

Guilt churned in Matthew’s stomach for the lie, increasing the pain to an almost unbearable level, but the genuine tenderness in Arthur’s tired eyes made it worth it.

“All right. Just do remember to take your antibiotic, poppet. And get some rest, you’ve been working hard. You deserve it.”

Matthew hesitated a moment at the door, fidgeting on his feet.

“I love you, Arthur,” he whispered in the end, then swiftly walked away without waiting for an answer.

He did love Arthur, that much was true. But he also loved Alfred just as much. Why couldn’t they all just get along?

To make matters worse, the scorching stabs of pain to his stomach were increasing in frequency; Matthew was clammy and lightheaded. Once again, his stupid body rebelling against the stressful situation. He could barely change into his pyjamas and dive under the pile of blankets before he needed to curl up on himself. He hugged his stomach, trying to breathe through the increasing bursts of agony.

Matthew felt like crying. He was tired of the fighting, of how mean Alfred always was to Arthur.

Alfred was so sure that he had everything figured out, but in truth, he didn’t know anything. Matthew almost wanted to laugh at the notion that he would have been better off with Tante Marianne. Maybe, Alfred should have taken a moment to wonder why their cousin Francis, in spite of loving his birth country, had almost run away from France just after becoming of age. Alfred hardly knew Marianne and Pierre at all, unlike Matthew. Matthew was aware that Oncle Pierre’s high-salary and prestigious job meant he spent most of his time travelling around the world, leaving his son’s upbringing completely in his wife’s hands. Matthew had also seen the way his sophisticated and charming Tante Marianne used to treat Francis. No more than an accessory, a pretty doll to display proudly. Alfred wouldn’t have lasted a week before smuggling himself back to America and to Arthur, Matthew was sure of that.

At the same time, it was also true that Arthur was often too hard with Alfred, too rigid to find a middle ground. Matthew knew that Arthur was very young and just trying his best, and he didn’t blame him for it. That didn’t stop him from wishing Arthur would let go of his pride and admit he couldn’t do everything on his own. Alfred generally listened to Francis, for example, but Arthur was always too reluctant to enlist his help.

And Matthew was too damn coward to let his voice be heard and suggest a solution, and he ended up dealing with a body that was just as much coward and pathetically needy. Served him right.

In addition to the searing pain, a spell of cold had taken Matthew into its grip and seeped into his bones, making him shiver incessantly. He could only curl up tighter on himself and pray to fall asleep, but the knives twisting in his abdomen kept bringing him back to the brink of consciousness.

Sometime later, the door was slammed open and heavy steps preceded the thump of Alfred’s body flopping down on his own mattress and the frame creaking under the weight. He didn’t offer a single word to Matthew.

The fire raging in Matthew’s stomach grew, paralyzing him in a haze of agony. It only got worse as the hours went by.

******

Alfred had always needed less sleep than a common person. Therefore, if Arthur forced him to go to bed at eleven, Alfred would be awake by four the following morning. That was just how it worked. His father had understood it perfectly, but Arthur just didn’t seem to be able to wrap his mind around it. Alfred could have lingered in bed for another couple of hours, but he didn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction. The exact moment his eyes snapped open, he got up and moved to the living room.

Arthur had taken away his phone, his laptop, the PS4, and gotten as far as unplugging the TV and taking one of the cables into his own room the previous evening, but that didn’t mean Alfred was going to cave in and waste time doing homework. Instead, he flopped down on the sofa with a sandwich in his right hand and a book in the other.

Arthur hadn’t even forbidden him to read, after all. Alfred couldn’t wait to see the livid face when his older stepbrother would realize he had been, once again, outsmarted.

About two hours and a half later, the shuffled footsteps heading towards the living room made Alfred’s nerves tighten with tension, his blood sing at the prospect of a fight.

The steps halted at the door.

Alfred tensed on the sofa, waiting for the scolding.

Only a soft sight came. A moment later, the steps retreated from the living room.

Alfred raised his head just in time to see Arthur’s frame disappear into the kitchen. He couldn’t believe there had been no protest.

I finally showed him who’s the boss around.

Alfred wanted to believe that, in spite of the corner of his mind that made him notice how Arthur's shoulders were hunched over in exhaustion, even if it was just the beginning of the day. He was most likely just too drained to pick a fight. Alfred swallowed down the small trickle of guilt generated by the thought and forcefully directed his concentration back to the book in his hands, a collection of Asimov’s works.

Alfred had picked it only because it was the one closest to him, finding himself quite engrossed in it had been a pleasant surprise. Asimov was an excellent writer, just like Matthew had told him many times. Alfred made a mental note to thank his younger brother.

A moment later, he recalled that they weren’t on speaking terms.

This time, the twinge of guilt that gripped his stomach was more intense.

Matthew was always siding with Arthur, that much was true, and it irritated Alfred to no end. At the same time, Matthew was also merely fourteen years old. No more than a kid. A kid who had had to deal with a childhood of emotional neglect (now that he was older, Alfred was sure that he could give that name to their natural mother’s unintentional – but not less damaging – treatment of Matthew), precarious health, and loss. Moreover, Matthew had never connected with Arthur as smoothly as Alfred had used to, it was only natural for him to try and gather some crumbles of affection. No matter how much Alfred didn’t like it. Of course, the issue would be completely solved if Matthew started realizing that Alfred was the only older person he could truly rely on – but, admittedly, Alfred snapping at him wasn’t going to help with that.

Alfred squashed down the guilt with a resolution to be more patient with his younger brother, and he focused again on the fictional story to prevent his brain from formulating other disturbing thoughts. Arthur’s voice calling his name some time later caught him by surprise, violently jerking him back to reality.

“What?” he asked, not having quite had the time to harden his voice.

For once, Arthur didn’t seem intentioned to scold him. He was just standing at the door, bundled in a trench coat and with violet shadows painfully evident under his eyes, so tired-looking that the normally vibrant green looked dull.

“I have to go out now, I have a meeting for a group project.”

“It’s a quarter past seven, but I have to be at the campus by eight,” he added in answer to Alfred’s visible confusion.

Alfred forced his features to toughen in indifference.

“Fine. We won’t die by staying alone for just a couple of hours, no need to fret.”

A weary sigh seeped through Arthur’s lips.

“That’s not… I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself. I just wanted to ask you to wake Matthew up at half past seven, he looked quite exhausted yesterday. I’m not sure he would wake up on his own.”

Alfred internally rolled his eyes. He agreed on Arthur’s estimation of Matthew’s energies, and that was exactly why he wasn’t going to carry out the request. It was Saturday, Matthew definitely deserved a morning of rest. Alfred couldn’t believe that Arthur had never noticed how frazzled their little brother looked, how he was threatening to fall apart under all the responsibilities and expectations Arthur kept piling up on his shoulders. (The fact that Alfred shared the bedroom with Matthew and, because of that, saw him in his most vulnerable moments, didn’t matter. Arthur should have noticed.) Another reason why Arthur was a far cry from an adequate caretaker.

“Yeah, sure,” Alfred answered anyway, shrugging. For the time being, he was more eager to see how the book ended than to get into a fight.

“This is important, Alfred. Please don’t—”

“I said I’ll do it! Stop treating me like a toddler!”

Arthur sighed again – a soft, weary sound that made Alfred’s nerves tremble with disdain.

“I trust you with this, then,” Arthur said immediately after, much to Alfred’s surprise. “I probably won’t be home before eleven or so.”

With that, Arthur turned and walked away from the living room.

Alfred stared at his back for a moment before shaking himself. Arthur being so accommodating had surprised him, but he didn’t want to dwell on that (on how much of it was caused by Arthur being so exhausted that he could afford to spare energy only for immediately pressing matters). He went back to reading his book, letting the words take him by hand and lead him away from reality and to a soothing yet exciting world that kept Alfred in its clutches for so long that he was barely aware of the way the minutes bled into hours.

When the door creaked open, Alfred took conscience of how much time had passed with a twinge of surprise. He had barely moved from his position.

“Alfred!” Arthur called from the doorway, “Did you wake up Matthew?”

Alfred’s stomach summersaulted at the realization. He had been intentioned to wake up his brother before Arthur came home, somewhere around ten, but it had completely slipped out of his mind. Now, he could only own up to it.

Squaring his shoulders, Alfred took a deep breath to steady himself and got up.

“No, I didn’t,” he said with confidence as he walked the length of the corridor towards Arthur.

A dismayed grimace crossed Arthur’s features.

“What do you mean you didn’t? Alfred, I—”

“For God’s sake, give the kid a rest, will you? He has been running himself ragged since he began high school, can’t you see it? It’s Saturday, he deserves to sleep in for once in his life!”

Arthur didn’t seem moved. On the contrary, his feature tightened in annoyance before he ran a hand through his hair, huffing.

“And, pray tell, when exactly did I say that you needed to make him get up at half past seven? You just needed to wake him up, he could go back to sleep afterwards. In fact, I would have encouraged so.”

Arthur’s words didn’t make any sense. Alfred’s features must have shown his puzzlement, because Arthur rolled his eyes and emitted an exasperated sigh.

“The antibiotic, Alfred,” he explained in a clipped voice, “The prophylactic dose of antibiotic your brother has to take every twelve hours since his spleen has been removed and, with his immune system weaker to begin with, he risks getting mortally ill and dying.”

Alfred stared at his stepbrother, his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. Hot shame crawled up his stomach.

“But I guess this was less important than your rebellious spirit, wasn’t it?” Arthur’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I see it now. Your little brother’s life is less important than a childish tantrum. I thought you were more mature than this, at least, but I see that I was severely mistaken…”

Arthur’s words stung worse than a physical slap could have. Alfred wanted to scream that he hadn’t wanted that, he wanted to be angry at Arthur – and, at the same time, he couldn’t believe he had missed something so vital.

Arthur trying to walk past him brought him back to his senses. His hand automatically shot out to grab his stepbrother’s arm.

“Where are you going?”

Alfred failed to hide a slight trembling in his voice.

Arthur’s forehead was creased in anger, but the shadows under his eyes made him look more dejected than annoyed.

“Where do you think I’m going? I need to wake up Matthew, it has already been more than three hours…”

Arthur tried to swag Alfred’s hand away, but he didn’t budge.

“I’ll go wake up Matthew.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, a spark of anger surging in his eyes, but Alfred was quicker.

“Listen. I fucked up, I know. And I’m sorry, okay?” The admission was like acid in Alfred’s mouth, but he knew that it was needed, if he wanted to prove to Arthur that he was mature enough. “But, if you go to wake up Matthew like that, he’ll see how much you’re stressing over this and he’ll read it as you being angry at him. He’ll just feel guilty and awful and it will add more stress. So, let me do this.”

Alfred couldn’t help the contempt from seeping into his voice at the end of the speech. He hadn’t exactly meant to do that, but he knew that he was right.

Arthur seemed to recognize the truth in Alfred’s words as well. He sagged in his grip and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he talked, his voice was once again controlled.

“All right. Just be kind to him.”

Alfred ignored the bitterness in Arthur’s last remark as he turned and walked away. He wanted to retort that he was always nice to Matthew, that he wasn’t the one stressing their younger brother, but a rational corner of his brain couldn’t help but whisper maliciously that Arthur did have a point. And, for how much Alfred claimed he was taking care of Matthew better than Arthur, he was the one who had forgotten such a vital issue.

The admission only made anger boil hotter in his chest. He gritted his teeth and kept clenching and unclenching his fists as he quickened his pace, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling unpleasantly clawing at his insides.

If Matthew sees me like this, he’ll be even more stressed.

Sobered up by the realization, Alfred waited a couple of moments in front of the bedroom’s door, forcing himself to take deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed down. Only then, he opened the door and stepped in silently.

The sight of the lump of blankets that hid his brother’s frame brought a smile to Alfred’s face from the sheer cuteness of it.

His lips straightened into a thin line the moment he realized that the lump was trembling.

Is he having a nightmare?

“Mattie, wake up.”

Alfred swiftly strode to his brother, a pang of concern surging in his stomach when no answer met his words.

“Mattie?”

Alfred placed a knee on his brother’s mattress and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.

“Come on, Mattie, wake up. It’s all right, you’re probably just having a bad dream.”

A broken sound between a sob and a whimper was the only answer.

Frowning, Alfred peeled the blankets away from Matthew’s face as he hunched over him to have a better look.

His heart missed a beat.

Matthew’s face was stark white, the delicate features tightened in unmistakable agony. His breaths were ragged and uneven, seeping out of his bloodless lips in a broken, rushed symphony.

“Matthew!”

There was no reaction to Alfred’s panicked voice. With his pulse racing, he tore off the blankets to find his little brother huddled on himself, with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen, the knuckles gripping his pyjama top white.

“Mattie, what’s wrong?” Alfred pleaded, “Come on, Mattie, talk to me!”

His shaking hands found a grip around his brother’s shoulders to turn him over and allow Alfred to have a better look.

Matthew moaned at the movement, his ragged breaths quickening. Then, Alfred tried to uncurl Matthew’s legs – and an inhuman, agonized shriek erupted from his throat.

Alfred jumped away as if he had been scalded, avoiding just in time to get in the way of Matthew vomiting over the edge of the bed. The blood pounding in his ears obscured his vision for a moment.

I’m only three hours late. Only three hours, it can’t be…

But Matthew was curled up on himself on the edge of the bed, at that point earnestly sobbing, with the sheets around him soiled with vomit.

Alfred ignored the smell and sprang to his brother’s side, scolding himself for that moment of hesitation.

“Matthew. Matthew, come on, tell me what’s wrong!”

He hated himself for how shaky his voice came out, closer to a plea than an order, but at that point, Alfred could hardly think straight. The fingers tapping his brother’s clammy cheek were singed by the prickling heat of a raging fever.

Three hours.

Such a short amount of time, but it had been enough. Something was so horribly wrong with Matthew, his waxen features were contorted in agony, the breaths coming out of his lips harsh and ragged, as if he wasn’t getting enough air.

Alfred knew that he had to do something, but the terror that had flooded his entire being was acting as a barrier between his brain and any rational thought. All he could do was to take his brother’s clammy face into his hands, stare into his glassy and unseeing eyes as he pleaded in a shaky voice for him to answer, but even the slurred words that finally came out of Matthew’s lips were covered by the roar in Alfred’s own ears.

Alfred was abruptly brought back to reality when the door slammed open.

He instinctively whirled around, his widened eyes meeting a pair of equally scared green ones. Finally, Alfred’s brain registered that the sounds he had been ignoring at the corners of his perceptions were Arthur’s yelling for an answer and his footsteps rushing closer. He had to have heard Matthew’s wail, the entire street probably had.

At that moment, no sight was more welcome than Arthur’s face, the concern shining in his features already dimming as they hardened in determination. The argument that had occurred only some moments earlier seemed to belong to a different lifetime.

“Arthur.” Alfred’s voice was nothing but a weak, trembling plead. “Arthur, there’s something really wrong with Matthew. Please, help!”

Alfred swiftly moved to a side to leave his older brother some space to examine Matthew, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy’s unnaturally pale face.

Alfred prided himself in being mature and independent, but Arthur was the one who had always had Matthew’s health in mind. Arthur was the one who took the child’s hands into his own, who ran his fingers through the blond hair as he called Matthew’s name, somehow managing to keep his voice firm.

Alfred could just stand there, paralyzed, as all his world crumbled around him, every detail in front his eyes screaming how wrong he had been.

******

All Matthew knew was agony. A knife was tearing him apart from the inside, stabbing repeatedly and twisting, acid was eating him up.

Matthew wanted to call for help, but the pain squeezed his lungs, he could only sob.

Then, he wasn’t alone anymore. There were hands on his face, fingers threading through his hair. Voices around him.

“…Mattie, please, Mattie…”

“…phone first. Get me the phone. And then a thermometer, quick!”

Matthew confused brain recognized them as belonging to his older brothers, even if most of the words were too far away for him to comprehend them, muffled by a sea of pain.

He wanted to cry in relief and to plead them to make the pain stop.

But, at the same time, Arthur’s rough fingers against his neck brought with them the faint recollection of other fingers, slender and clammy with sweat, that had lingered on Matthew’s neck on a summer’s afternoon, when he was kneeling in front of a trashcan at the park.

Arthur’s tender voice morphed into a higher, feminine timbre that sent shivers running down Matthew’s back. He could still feel Allyson’s hot breath blowing against his neck.

“Oh, what do we have here, Mattie? An upset tummy because your big brothers are fighting? You know what this means, Mattie-kins? That we’re just the same, you and I. You’re trying to be a little goody-two-shoes, but your body is complaining because it wants to get Big Brother’s attention. Embrace it, Mattie-kins. No matter what you pretend, you’re just a little attention whore.”

Allyson’s words had been with Matthew since them, carefully tucked into a corner of his mind. His greatest fear and his greatest push. He had done everything he could to prove Allyson wrong, he had always done his best to hide the pain and not let his true nature out in the open.

And now, it was all gone. Matthew’s body, his instincts, everything pleaded for his brothers’ help, their voices and touches brought small seeds of comfort through the haze of agony. Matthew wanted to cling to them.

But the recollection of Allyson’s mocking laugh rose above everything else, drowning all of Matthew’s perceptions. He had finally lost the battle with his body, and this time, he was the one who had ruined everything for his family.

(word count: 6,494 words)

———

Notes:

Hetalia Human Names [x] 

Allyson Jones is 2p Nyo America;

Felicia is Nyo Italy;

I’m not a doctor, so there might be inaccuracies, in spite of my research;

Moreover, there are some misconceptions due to the narrators’ erraneous views.

Thanks a lot to the people who liked the previous chapter, and a special thanks to @aph-fanficchallenges and @nordicsawesome for reblogging it! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter as well :)

[scrutineerethel]

3200.8.Maius

Recorded Transcript 

[[Scene: A large, clean, and well-equipped kitchen located in the basement of the Eridanii Embassy on Imperial Prime. Though it is relatively early in the morning, there is already plenty of activity here. A few well-dressed servers mix among a dozen chefs, all of whom wear aprons with the House Eridanus symbol embroidered over their heart.]]

An older-looking woman enters the kitchen. She wears a modest white dress with a high-necked, black coat over it - formal enough for daily business attire but lacking any sort of ornamentation that would be appropriate for such a gala.  Her grey hair is tied back in a tight bun. She carries a half-full teacup in one hand and a datapad in the other. 

After saying a few quick words to one of the chefs, she takes a seat at a small wooden table near the back of the kitchen where she will be out of the way of the workers.The woman taps a few notes into her datapad, then presses a button and speaks towards it. 

"Luzia. Review my appointments for today. As I recall, we had scheduled several meetings on Imperial Prime since I was required to be here for the gala. Presuming this lock-down of the embassy is going to persist, you will need to contact all my appointments for today and attempt to reschedule for later in the week. Do not reschedule tomorrow's appointments yet. One hopes this inconvenience will not take any longer than a day to resolve but ..." 

She seems to want to say something else here, but shakes her head and regroups instead. 

"... But, I will let you know tomorrow morning if those appointments will also need to be moved. For now, I am in the kitchen to try to get my usual work done. The suites are entirely too loud for this purpose. If anyone needs me, they should send me a message."

Another woman enters the kitchens, blearily rubbing her eyes. She's wrapped in a loose, fuzzy robe, her hair is in a messy bun perched precariously on her head, and she doesn't particularly seem to care that she's supposed to be at a "gala". She opens one eye and sees an older lady sitting at a wooden table near the back. 

"At least someone in here has some sense," she mutters to herself. She swipes a platter with a tea-kettle and two cups from a setting marked "Purple Seas" and makes her way over to the table.She sets the platter down in front of the other woman, probably disturbing any paper or tablets if present. She looks over to the woman, "Honestly, you'd think Lyra was as terribly off as Pyxis, the way they're stalling on paying a ransom. They can pay a ransom, right? Anyway, I'm Echo Brosson Perrin - House Pyxis. Tea?" She pours tea into both cups, regardless.

Ethelind blinks up at the younger woman, quickly pulling her datapad away from the platter.

"Pyxis, did you say?" Ethelind looks over Perrin appraisingly, then nods as if to say 'That tracks.' 

"Ethelind Riverty - House Eridanus." She pulls the full teacup closer to her, pushing aside her now empty one. "And I am inclined to agree with you about the ransom. Just pay the damn thing so the rest of us don't need to be held hostage here! Poisoning and kidnapping are simply assumed risks one takes when agreeing to attend an event like this. Surely Lyra should have budgeted for the possibility of a ransom?"

"Ethelind of Eridanus! A welcomed crossing, indeed." Perrin sips her tea.  "Your House sure knows how to throw a party.

"You know, I bet Lyra loves the drama. Maybe they're drawing it out on purpose. But I could do without a lockdown, honestly. How come you aren't up there with the other Eridanus hosts?" She peers at Ethelind over the teacup.

Ethelind crooks an eyebrow, then takes a sip of tea before she replies. "In truth, I had not planned to attend at all. While I appreciate the need for the festivities and opportunities for diplomacy the gala provides, it's difficult not to think of it as a colossal waste of time and money - which it is. I only decided to come to Imperial Prime when it became obvious that I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything at my offices on Tiber while the rest of my House is here in a drunken stupor." 

She chuckles a little at this, as if it might be a joke - though it doesn't really sound like one ... 

"Tell me, Perrin of House Pyxis - what do you know about the Lyran who's been kidnapped? Are they anyone of consequence? I confess, I was too busy yesterday to have paid it any attention until I saw the notification about the lock-down."

Perrin chuckles at the thought of House Eridanus in a drunken stupor - she totally missed the tone. "Well, from what I gather he's relatively well-known? Horuset Montgomery something-or-other? Unfortunately I'm a little out of the loop on gossip myself. One of the Pyxis Orators speaks fondly of him, though."

"Interesting."  Ethel stirs her tea, then calls out to one of the nearby servers.  "Tobias - would you bring over a bowl of sugar and a bit of milk?" 

There is a quick shuffle to see to Ethel's request, and the server hurries over with the milk and sugar bowls, which he places on the tray. He quickly retrieves Ethel's empty teacup before hurrying away once more. Ethel uses a small pair of tongs to drop two sugar cubes into her teacup, followed by a splash of milk. She begins stirring her tea again as she speaks. 

"I've had the opportunity to speak to a few of your Orators before, though I have yet to run into them in person. They seem like a friendly bunch. Quite .... honest." Ethel settles on the word after pausing for a moment.  "But you said that you are an 'Echo' if I am not mistaken? What precisely does that title mean in your House?"

"Oh hey, Tobias come back, I'm starving." Perrin points to the hotplate for the Purple Seas. "Just grab me that plate there that's ready to go, I'm sure the recipient up there will understand." She winks what she thinks is her most charming wink. Tobias hesitates for a second and then retrieves the plate in question, rushing back over to the cooks who roll their eyes a bit but start prepping a new plate for the restaurant. 

"The Orators are good folk. Probably as honest as they are because they can't wait to not be stuck talking to a bunch of stuffy diplomats - no offense." Perrin stabs a sausage and waves it around a bit as she talks. 

"So, Echoes - we basically carry information system to system. Sounds redundant, right? The way comms work anyway? Well my ship houses internal Pyxis messages that need to cross the sector in  a way that -" She looks around. "- Velan routes can't, if you catch my drift." She pops the sausage in her mouth.

Ethel laughs a little. "Yes, one of your Orators recently told me I was lucky he'd answered a communication from an Eridanii at all. It is not difficult to imagine that we bring bad news to House Pyxis far more often than good news." 

She looks over at Tobias again, who tries for a moment to evade her glance but finally gives in as she crooks a finger at him. He crosses the busy kitchen a third time, garnering some irritated grunts from the chefs as he does so. 

"Toast and jam for me, Tobias. The black currant if any was brought over from Tiber - which it certainly should have been."  Tobias nods and speeds off to fulfill the new request. 

"So if your Pyxis Echoes are taking 'alternative' routes to deliver these messages, does that imply that the messages reach their destinations faster than they would using regular means?"

Perrin's eyes light up and she shoves her plate to the side. "Okay, so -" She holds her palm flat, facing up and activates a small hologram of the sector map above it. 

"Here's Imperial Prime. Here's say, I dunno - Halvei, in the Oenon System." The two sectors light up. "If you want to go the traditional way, using Imperial Velan charts, you'd drill through spikespace in these sectors." Sectors light up on the map in a connected line from Imperial Prime to Halvei. 

"Buuuut - and this is the cool part - what if you drill here and end up here?" She points at the two planets and Imperial Prime and Halvei's sectors light up with no connecting lines.

Ethel stares down at the hologram, takes a long sip of tea, and then stares at it again. 

"From your enthusiasm, I have to imagine the answer is that you somehow arrive safely at your intended destination. Though I honestly cannot understand why it wouldn't be more likely that you lose yourself and your message in a black hole. Though, perhaps, that is part of the ... charm?" Ethel hangs uncertainly on the word, clearly a little out of her depth when it comes to sussing out Pyxis motivations.

Perrin laughs, "Exactly! It's like folding a piece of fabric and connecting those two points to make a new pattern - skip all this extra time and space in between. And besides, falling into a black hole wouldn't even be the worst outcome - imagine what you'd see once the event horizon spits you back out." She stares wistfully into the distance for a moment and the hologram disappears. 

She sighs, "Honestly, we know what most of the sector thinks of us but, someday we'll have hard evidence and not just theory. I refuse to believe there's nothing else in the sector."

Tobias drops off Ethel's toast and jam and then hurries off before either noble can make another request of him. 

"It is certainly enlightening to see your exuberance for your craft. It's true that I - and I suppose most of the sector - do not understand the risks that you and your House take. But when you describe it as such, it sounds like a brave and worthy endeavor ... if maybe a bit foolhardy as well." 

Ethel gives Perrin a small smile. She's obviously trying so. hard. 

"But the idea of there being more in Acheron Rho ... what do you mean by that? What would you hope to find, exactly?"

"Well!" Perrin leans back and hooks an elbow over the back of her chair. "House Vela says we've mapped the whole sector, right? But who has access to those their archives now - only them. They sure have a lot of power in controlling the flow of people. House Vela adjusts the maps. Who's to say they didn't do that already and there's a sector with a forgotten planet in it? Because they didn't like what we - and I say we as in, Pyxis was once part of Vela - found there?"

Perrin leans forward again and holds her hands up. "Vela has the power to just say, 'Hm, nope - this planet doesn't exist anymore,' and cut them out of the map completely! Imagine what that could do to a population or a House - cutting them off from the Imperium like that." She shakes her head and tuts. "We're trying to make sure that doesn't happen, and if it did we want to find out about it."

"So you are speaking in hypotheticals, then? It is not that Pyxis knows Vela has done this, but that Pyxis knows Vela has the power to do so?" 

Ethel picks a bit at her toast, frowning slightly. 

"And if it had been done in the past, surely Vela would not have made such a move without the express support or instruction of the High Church, no? Particularly if it was done to separate - or erase - the population of a former House?" 

Ethel looks up at Perrin pointedly.

Perrin squints a little at Ethelind. "Any Pyxis that actually were around long enough to access records as to whether it happened before are probably long dead - occupational hazard with us, of course. As for which institutions would have been behind it well, the High Church -" Perrin's mouth twists a little around the words "- and the Imperial House itself - especially since there was a Velan Emperox." 

She waves a hand, dismissively. "I mean we can't really prove anything until we find something so until then, it's just the usual Pyxis behaviour as far as everyone's concerned. Until we stop chucking ships and people at a problem and start producing evidence, no one will look twice." 

She cocks an eyebrow at Ethelind as if to say, "Right?"

Ethelind casts a quick glance around the kitchen before turning back to Perrin. She nods in response. 'Right.' 

"Yes, well. Pyxis does have some interesting theories, I'll give you that. But - back to the topic at hand. I'm curious - what chance is there that an Echo might be willing to carry some communications other than internal Pyxis messages?" 

Ethel picks up the teapot and fills first Perrin's cup and then her own. "It seems to me that would be a very valuable service to provide. Faster than usual delivery at the expense of being a little less ... reliable. But, perhaps, a bit more secure as well, since anyone who intercepted the Echo would assume that any communications they carried were simply Pyxis messages to one another."

Perrin purses her lips. "I mean, officially... Yes. Everything's encrypted too. I don't even know what the messages are, half the time. Unofficially..." She picks up her cup and smiles at Ethelind, "I wouldn't be opposed, but the ratio of willingness increases with payment."

"I think you'll find that a willing Echo would be well compensated for such an arrangement." Ethelind returns the smile. "However, I would have to insist that payment be rendered per delivery, rather than on a contractual basis, simply because it is impossible to know how long the terms of the contract would be - based upon the general Pyxis life expectancy, of course."

Perrin nods. "I suppose that's a fair stipulation for something like this. Even we have no idea most of the time." She chuckles. I look forward to working with you in the future, then."

"And I with you."  Ethel nods.  "I'll have my secretary send over my suggested terms, my contact information, and an initial payment - consider it an advance for your helpfulness this morning." 

Ethel sets her teacup on the tray, along with her now-empty dish. She pushes her chair back from the table. "I suppose I should check in on the rest of my House. When I left our suite this morning, at least two of them and perhaps a third were discussing the possibility of proposals. Goodness knows how many of them will be married by the time I get back. It was good to meet you, Pyxis Perrin. Should you find yourself looking for conversation away from the noise of the rest of the gala, I would be happy to share another pot of tea at a later time."

Perrin raises her eyebrows at the mention of 'proposals'. "Well, good luck with that. It was good to meet you as well, I think I may have had the wrong idea about your House. You certainly didn't seem incredibly boring to me." She smiles. "Until the next star." 

[[The scene fades on Perrin reopening her sector map hologram as Ethelind exits.]]

Transcript of a scene with @seekerpyxisbrossonperrin.

[kuriquinn]

Telanadas [2/19]

Cover Page & Disclaimer:

first chapter

Sakura’s resolve to press on only lasts a half hour, if only because Nature makes a more convincing argument than Comfort. Darkness falls sooner than expected, and they are forced to find shelter.

As the winds grow strong enough to press the travellers up against the sharp, icy façade of the mountain, Sasuke spots a cave almost obscured by rock and snow. Even luckier, it is large enough that all four of them can fit comfortably inside without infringing on each other’s personal space. Having had to sleep crowded against Naruto on at least two occasions lately and subjected to his kicking, Sasuke is more than relieved about this.

Once inside, Kakashi uses his magic to erect a barrier of fire, offering both protection from enemies and the frigid gusts of wind. As the blood flows back into Sasuke’s fingers and toes, the mage conjures a small fire. Meanwhile, Sakura takes on the undesirable job of fashioning a small latrine at the back of the cave.

“That’s all we need is for one of you to wander out to take a crap and fall off the side of a mountain,” she says cheerfully.

Sasuke doubts any of them will make use of such a thing unless they are snowed in here for days. Then again, dwarves and humans have such odd notions of hygiene and propriety he cannot be entirely sure.

While Sasuke lays out their gear and armour to dry near the fire, Naruto digs about in their supplies to put together a warm meal.

Though meal is being polite, Sasuke thinks with a grimace.

“I do not understand how you people can eat this,” he mutters, the complaint escaping him before he can stop it. He was taught to consider food no more than fuel, but after weeks of the same paltry fare he has lost patience. “Do I even want to know what it is?”

“I think it was lamb at some point,” Sakura says, accepting the makeshift bowl of tasteless noodles and jerky from the human. “But the texture…isn’t one I’d normally associate with lamb.”

“Beggars cannot be choosers,” Kakashi replies mildly, shrugging one shoulder.

“What are you guys talking about?” Naruto asks, slurping down his share. “This is so much better than that frilly stuff we had back at the castle! I hate food I can’t pronounce. And this stuff never goes bad. I bet if we packed it away, it’d still be good to eat fifty years from now!”

Sasuke stares at him in disgust. “I cannot even tell if you are joking or not.”

“He is not,” Kakashi confirms, examining what is left of their rations. “I am rather sure these are from supply caches that have not been opened since the Storm Age. They were old before I stole them from the Circle of Magi.”

“And…I’m done,” Sakura says, offering her still-full bowl to Naruto, who cheers and adds the share to his own. Sasuke is tempted to do the same, but as it might be construed as a kindness to the human, he refrains. “What about you, Sasuke-kun? You didn’t eat like this where you grew up, right?”

As always, she is trying to find out more about him.

“No.” He intends to leave it at that, but when she gazes up at him beseechingly, a follow-up question clearly on her lips, he elaborates: “Simple fare. Bread made from seeds. Milk from our halla. Vegetables.”

He tries not to lick his lips at the mere thought of tomatoes. It has been so long since they had a decent meal.

“Halla?” Sakura repeats, confused. “Is that a kind of animal in Oto?”

Sasuke tenses, realising his unconscious slip.

“Not necessarily Oto,” Kakashi answers for him, eyes widening in understanding. “Halla are creatures like horned stags. The Dalish consider them to be noble companions.” He raises an eyebrow. “I had wondered about the markings on your face, Sasuke. They resemble none of the tattoos that the House of Crows use…but I have never seen that particular vallaslin before, either.”

“Dalish?” Naruto asks Sasuke in slack-jawed awe. “Wow, really? Arl Hiruzen used to talk about the Dalish, but I’ve never actually met one before!”

“Your powers of observation are worse than I thought, as you have been travelling with one for weeks now,” Sasuke bites out.

“Oi!”

“What’s vallaslin?” Sakura asks quickly, obviously attempting to curtail an argument.

Sasuke shrugs noncommittally, not wanting to explain.

“It translates to ‘blood writing’, if memory serves,” Kakashi says in his place. “A sign of adulthood, and adherence to the beliefs and traditions of the Dalish. It is surprising that one who submitted to the ritual would then be found working as an assassin for the House of Crows.”

“Chains of a past that no longer exists,” Sasuke interrupts. “I am going to sleep. It has been a long day.”

He turns away from the fire, a clear message that he has no intention of answering any questions or pursuing the discussion further.

He can feel Sakura’s eyes on him, but after a short pause, she suddenly says, “Well, that still sounds a lot better than what happened to me. I got this—” He imagines she is pointing at the rhombus shaped brand on her forehead, “—just for being born in the wrong place.”

“Heh. I understand what that’s like,” Naruto snorts.

“Maybe. Except as far as I know, Konoha doesn’t brand a newborn with a hot poker just because his parents were unwed.”

“What? No way!”

“Uh-huh. The minute a casteless dwarf is born, we get marked, so there’s no way to mistake who we are if the nobles catch us lurking in the richer quarters. Also, it makes it way easier for Carta recruiters to decide which kids they can press-gang into doing their dirty work.”

“Carta—the dwarven crime syndicate?” Kakashi questions, sounding surprised.

Back still turned in a pretence of sleep, Sasuke frowns. He does not find that surprising at all. It certainly explains her occasionally mercenary attitude and her talent for surviving insurmountable odds. The Carta offers about as friendly an upbringing as the Crows do.

“They’re the ones who smuggled lyrium to the Templars,” Naruto whispers, a little uncomfortable. No doubt he had comrades who suffered from that particular addiction. “You were one of them?”

“There wasn’t much choice,” she replies, unembarrassed. “Since the most respectable job for a casteless dwarf is sweeping the streets, and there’s only a few people who even get that job. It’s either work for the Carta or become a noble hunter. And I’d starve to death begging before I got on my back for some jacked-up noble because I might bear him a son.” She sounds abruptly fierce just then. “No disrespect to the women I grew up with who did that—there’d be no dwarves left down there if there were no noble hunters. But I won’t sell my heart for the small chance of pretty clothes and jewels.”

Sasuke snorts at this.

There is that naivety again.

“It seems we are talking too loudly and disturbing the elf’s sleep,” Kakashi remarks wryly, but Sasuke refuses to reply. It is enough that he has been forced by close quarters to listen to this.

Sakura is not so easily fooled; though she does not speak to him, her next words are pointed.

“People should be allowed to love one another without reprisal. Without duty or society or anyone else’s agenda getting in the way,” Sakura says, and her tone has lost all the levity he would normally associate with it. She only sounds like that when defending a cause that she considers worthy.

 “You’re right,” Naruto says quickly. “The world would be a much nicer place if that were true.”

“Perhaps some places,” Kakashi says carefully. “Circles of the Magi, for one. But for the good of the many, sometimes the desires of the few need to be set aside. Many a peace accord may never have happened if the belligerents in a conflict did not seal it with a marriage. And our world may have looked much different.”

“Maybe up here on the surface,” Sakura says. “Back in Iwa they’re so obsessed with blood purity that soon there won’t be anyone left to marry, diplomatic or not. If people could choose…if people could choose, Iwa might not be falling into the dust.”

There is sadness and anger in her tone, coupled with the sudden shifting of her body.

“Anyhow. It’s not like any of this matters here and now,” she goes on, and her tone is such an abrupt shift to cheeriness that Sasuke knows it is fake. “We just have to get to that temple and find those ashes to help Arl Hiruzen.”

“That is assuming they do exist,” Kakashi says reasonably. “This ‘Urn of Sacred Ashes’ could be nothing more than a rumour. Or a hoax.”

“You couldn’t have said something before we climbed half a mountain to get here?” Sakura jokes lightly. “Shannaro…”

“No, it’s real,” Naruto insists, faithful Templar even now. “Just wait, we’ll get those ashes back to him and he’ll be kicking down Danzō’s door in no time—believe it!”

The dwarf is not the only naïve one.

“I’m sure you’re right, Naruto,” Sakura says warmly. “But in order to get up there, we need to be at full strength. Which means sleep. I can take first watch if you want.”

“No, you’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard the last few days, Sakura. Take a break. Kakashi and I can keep a lookout since someone’s being a lazy arse.”

The recipient of the barb rolls his eyes.

“Naruto,” Sakura warns.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Go on, Sakura, he is right. You are no good to your cause if you pass out and freeze to death in the snow,” Kakashi coaxes.

“Hah! Like I’d let that happen!” Naruto scoffs.

“Well, thank you guys. I guess I can take an hour—but I will take second watch at least.”

That is what you think, Sasuke decides.

Annoying as the humans are, they are correct. Sakura is no good to them dead from exhaustion. Especially since Sasuke has thrown his lot in with her, he intends to keep her alive until he figures her out.

It should not be an issue to take the next watch.

There is a sound of shifting armour and the rustling of a camp bed, and he imagines Sakura has indeed turned in for the night. Kakashi and Naruto murmur to each other quietly, not wanting to disturb her; Sasuke is not so lucky, his ears picking up even the quietest whispers.

“I’m actually just as tired,” Naruto groans. “I’ll play you for first watch, if you promise not to cheat.”

“No, you go ahead and sleep. I’ll stay up and read for a little.”

“Ugh…just make sure you ‘read’ far away from my blanket.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. You mages are all perverts…”

Sasuke silently agrees.

After that, everything goes quiet (or as quiet as they can with Naruto’s snores). Sasuke allows himself to sink into a light sleep for a few hours, but when his ears pick up on Kakashi shifting in discomfort, he rouses himself. The older man has an odd propensity to take longer watches than he ought, to let everyone else rest. This makes no sense considering Sasuke does not need as much sleep as anyone else in the party. Sakura would say it is because Kakashi is an old mother hen at heart, but Sasuke is not sure. He does not trust humans, and mages even less, even when they do not wear masks to cover all but the eyes, the way Kakashi does.

With a stretch, Sasuke climbs out of his bedroll. He heads for the mouth of the cave to take a piss, then goes to sit beside the mage.

“I will take the watch until morning,” he murmurs. “You people are no use to me dead on your feet.”

“I sense there was concern in there somewhere behind all the stoic,” Kakashi remarks.

“Tch.”

“I’m serious, Sasuke. You are so tightly wound, it cannot be good for you. You know what would do you some good?”

“I suspect you are about to tell me.”

“If you went out some time, found a girl, and did naughty things with her that did not involve trousers,” the mage continues as if he hasn’t heard him. “If you are in the market, I know of at least one who is definitely interested.”

The way his eyes slide toward where Sakura is sleeping, albeit fitfully, leaves no question to whom he is referring.

“Len’alas lath’din,” Sasuke grumbles, turning away in contempt.

“Now, now, that is not very polite,” the mage says, more amused than offended. And it should not surprise Sasuke that the older man knows Elvish, especially given his remarks earlier about blood writing. No doubt he has read about it in his studies, locked away in one of those shemlen towers.

He honestly has no intention of replying, but Kakashi continues to look more amused than he should. It reminds Sasuke a little of the teasing his cousin Shisui used to subject him to, and now, as then, his pride does not allow him to let it go.

“What makes you think I have not already?” he hedges.

Kakashi chuckles. “I can smell purity a mile away. It is a talent.”

“That proves to be useful, I am sure.”

“Not that often, as it turns out. It would be much better if I could sense Templars. It might make them easier to avoid.”

Sasuke snorts. “You have my deepest condolences.”

“Heh. Likewise.” Kakashi puts away his well-worn, orange-covered book. “And so does she.”

The comment has Sasuke puzzling over it longer than he will admit.

When he gets it, he wonders if it is too late to hit the older man.

Translations:

Halla – type of horned stag, used by the Dalish to pull their landships

Vallaslin – intricate facial tattoos worn by adult clan members of the Dalish elf tribes

Arl – feudal title; rules over an arling

Lyrium – valuable mineral/material whose consumption can strengthen a mage and boost their mana

Len’alas lath’din - dirty child no one loves; Dalish insult

Comments and concrit are much appreciated, and very motivating! For information about supporting my original, non-fandom related works, you’re welcome to check out my ko-fi tip jar, or my patreon page. 

栗

Next Chapter

[doxampage]

2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE

The following topics are over and done with in 2018:

SHRINKAGE! There is less print in the world. Deal with it. Darwin called it “Survival of the Fittest.” Your biz, and the communications you produce or create have to be optimized for effectiveness at all times, or you will become extinct.

SAVE A TREE? Psst… if you are in the industry and send me an email with a message encouraging me NOT to print it, you may need to review your job description. I certainly agree with printing responsibly to conserve all the resources involved, but PLEASE share facts, not myths. Two Sides North America (and their 13 global offices) have tons of #Paperfacts for you – including suggestions for those emails messages. Click. Share. Support the TRUTH about paper.

TRADE SHOW MANIA! Any industry event where people gather to learn about print, and from each other, is a worthy endeavor. Too many or not enough, too far away or always in the same place, new or old, larger or smaller… pick the ones that work for you and leave the drama to your mama. Support the orgs and companies behind the shows you like, and the suppliers who exhibit there. Industry shows and events invest in YOU, attendees. Invest some time back in them on the floor and in the sessions. Follow along on social and share info when you can’t attend. You may end up helping your connections in the process of making new ones.

INFLUENCERS! I’m early on this one, but “influencer” joins “guru” as something you don’t want to call yourself in your bios and social profiles. This is especially true if you have NO audience that you allegedly have influence over; possibly worse if you have a large audience of completely irrelevant people. Don’t forget social streams and followers are searchable. File this under reputation management. It matters.

THE MISSION FOR 2018: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE

Sure, you provide customer service, but what is the experience of working with you? Perhaps you are creating print materials. What is the experience of the recipient or consumer? Do you know the answers to those questions?

The mission for 2018 is not only knowing those answers, but defining, directing and executing the print experience.

Here are 5 ways to get started:

START FROM THE BEGINNING. It’s a new year. Reach out to your clients who need the most help and set up strategy meetings. Find out as much as you can about their mission for 2018. Set a follow-up meeting and bring everything you can produce within that customers’ normal budget range, that also aligns with their goals. Show them new applications and substrates. Provide estimated pricing for these items based on that customers’ normal quantity range. Take this model up your customer list. The experience of you as STRATEGIST vs. salesperson will have long-lasting effect. Who would you rather talk to?

FULL DISCLOSURE. Oddly enough, I am coming across more printers and suppliers who feel that sharing knowledge and capabilities on their websites is dangerous to their business. My feeling is this… if your competitors don’t already know everything about what you do, how you do it, what you charge, who you do it for and who is making it happen on your end, they aren’t your competition. The experience of your website should be comprehensive and as human as possible. Share it all! Get the clients you work for, and the people you work with, to tell your story through their experience with you, don’t just focus on the results. How you do business counts, too.

MANNERS MATTER. Without going on more than is needed, PLEASE ensure your workplace is not a hostile environment. Think twice about booth babes, and endeavors that could potentially make anyone uncomfortable, or assume the worst about your company culture. Every experience with your business, whether under your roof or out in the street, should be impeccable and respectful to all. Amen.

TOUCHY FEELY. This one gets some audio support. Both these performaces are around the same time, and yes they are from the 70’s but that isnt what matters… the experience is what matters.

That is ink on paper.  It’s nice, relaxing, minimal distractions. It does a great job communicating a message.

That is ink on paper PLUS. From the first electricfied power chord It draws you in. It captures your attention, actually it demands your attention! Even if you drifted off before the 10 minute jam ended, I will bet more of you listened longer to Mr. Nugent than Mr. Carmen.

Those moments count in marketing.

Is your print topping the experience charts? Are you incorporating new techniques and substrates into your materials? Do they shine and pop? Talk? Light up? Smell? Provide a bridge to a digital experience? Are they #SCODIFIED!?!?! If you want to get inducted into the print Hall of Fame you have to create a library of meaningful work, that rocks. After all, which song made you want to crank up the volume and flick your Bic.

HEY HEY, MY MY. So yeah, I had an epiphany listening to the radio recently. Conclusion: Print is Rock and Roll! It’s disruptive, always evolving, part of the history and culture of this world. It’s a tool for communication, education and social change. Print provides marketers a solid foundation to build upon, just like the hooks from the rock world provide a foundation for DJ’s and artists in other music genres to build upon. Even elevator muzak has roots in rock and roll.

The print you create, the print you produce, the print you sell, the print you receive – should ALL go to 11 and be lighter-worthy. Provide a front row concert “PRINTSPERIENCE” … Every. Single. Time.

I am looking forward to printsperiencing all I can in 2018. Now turn up the volume on Stranglehold and…  

ROCK ON LONG AND PROSPER!

PS… in case you missed the BIG news: WE HAVE LIFT OFF! Podcasts from The Printerverse has landed!

Deborah Corn is the Intergalactic Ambassador to The Printerverse at PrintMediaCentr, a Print Buyerologist, industry speaker and author, host of Podcasts from The Printerverse, cultivator of Print Production Professionals the #1 print group on LinkedIn, host of #PrintChat every Wednesday at 4PM ET on Twitter, and the founder of International Print Day. She is the recipient of several industry honors including the 2016 Girls Who Print Girlie Award, and sits on the board of the Advertising Production Club of NYC.

Deborah has 25+ years experience working in advertising as a Print Producer, and currently works behind the scenes with printers, suppliers and industry organizations helping them create meaningful relationships with customers and achieve success with their social media and content marketing endeavors.

Connect with Deborah: Twitter / Facebook / LinkedIn / Instagram / YouTube / Pinterest / Print Production Professionals Group / deborah@printmediacentr.com

Please subscribe to PMC’s News from The Printerverse for PRINTSPIRATION delivered to your inbox 1x a month.

The post 2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE appeared first on Print Media Centr.

2018 CMYK MANIFESTO: PROVIDING THE PRINT EXPERIENCE published first on http://ift.tt/2vVn0YZ