#anyhow it was very unnerving because i thought we were going to hide it under the rug...

[poptartmochi]

it took so long but! the beast has been slain 💝

[a-libra-writes]

hello, i am here! Stannis with the prompt: a diary where you can communicate with your soulmate, please. it can be hc's or scenario; however you choose to quench my thirst for him, I will be grateful.

hi molly, thank u for giving me such a treat!!! bc this was my first prompt and it... uh ....................

really got away from me

(LOTS OF ANGST BUT ITLL BE OK I PROMISE MAYBE)

The first thing he felt about it was annoyance. The six year old second son of Lord Baratheon looked down and saw that someone had doodled all over his book. He figured it was Robert, though he'd never seen a quill in his brother's hand unless it was being forced by the maester. He set the leather bound book in front of his mother expectantly, silently waiting for an explanation. When she looked at it and gave him a curious glance, he finally spoke.

"Robert's been drawing in it," Stannis said. He placed it right on top of her embroidery so she'd see. Lady Cassana wasn't bothered, rather, she was curious. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

"Did you see him do it, sweetling?"

"No." The lack of evidence didn't deter him - no, this was evidence enough. He didn't understand what his mother was so amused about.

Lady Cassana stopped on one of the pages. She smiled at the messy drawing of what was probably a cat catching a mouse. Under that was a tidy little castle with a series of smiling figures. "I don't think it's your brother, Stannis."

Stannis frowned, ready to argue that fact, but she asked, "Do you know what a soulmate is, sweetling?"

“No.”

“It’s a special person that only you can speak with this way,” She touched the book. “It's a special thing, I did it when I was your age. It’s the will of the gods, my love. You should write something back."

He hesitated. “Do I… have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But perhaps say hello, give it a try.” Lady Cassana said. She was smiling broadly now. “Enjoy it while you can.”

"What if they're not literate?"

Maester Cressen looked up from his papers, surprised the usually quiet boy was speaking during lessons. Stannis repeated, “What if my… soul mate doesn’t know their letters? You said the smallfolk don't."

The Maester stood and walked over to the leather book. Two years later, and it still looked in good condition. Stannis took care of this things, especially this. As usual the page was covered in whimsical drawings.

“Have you tried to write to them, my lord?”

“Not yet.” Stannis was furrowing his brow already, wanting his questions answered. “What happens if one soul mate can’t write, but the other can? What if both can't?"

“My lord, there's no need to worry about things that are irrelevant to you.”

“What do the smallfolk do?” Stannis pressed on. “Draw pictures like this? How do they find each other? How do they know what the other person looks like?"

Maester Cressen was already turning back to his papers. “Soulmates don’t always find each other, my lord, nor should they expect to.”

“Why not?”

“Distance, lack of communication, familial duties.” The maester said dismissively. “If you’ll return to your lessons—”

“I finished. What’s the point of soulmates if they can never meet?"

Maester Cressen sighed. There was no escaping this anytime soon, he feared. “It’s the will of the gods, my lord, and a great mystery we maesters have studied for centuries. It’s best not to think much of it, however. Draw or write back in the book, if you wish, but do not spend too much time with it. It’s best not to get expectations of someone you will likely never meet.”

Stannis looked down at the book, startled by a new drawing already appearing. He couldn’t see them being made, only when they were finished. It was a school of fish, or maybe a flock of birds. Wouldn’t it be simple to ask where this person lived, and go see them? What was the point of all this if he was just meant to ignore it? He wanted to ignore it, but this mysterious person kept drawing all over his notes and it was distracting.

“Mother said it’s 'the will of the gods', too. Does that mean it’s bad to ignore it?”

The maester stood up and closed the leather book. He replaced it with a chart of various colorful coat of arms and a map. “I daresay it’s time to move on to the next lesson."

It took him a few days, but the lordling decided to write in the book. Stannis wasn't much of an artist, so Hello seemed like a good start. He was relieved when there was a simple ‘hello!’ written back within a few minutes, and later, a scribbly flower with a long stalk underneath. Seeing the words form on their own so quickly, and in response to him, unnerved Stannis. He closed the book and tried not to think about it the rest of the day.

He checked a week later, where more drawings were present, with more words: whats your nam?

He wrote back, Name has an 'e'.

And before his eyes, a minute later, there was a name… and a house, and a title. Caspian.

She was a highborn lady? Stannis looked at the page, not sure what to think about it. It’d be alright to write to a lady, wouldn’t it? Maester Cressen was the one worried about this soulmate business. Perhaps it was because a lord and peasant couldn’t be together? Stannis knew that rule already. He knew the decorum and niceties his parents rehearsed him through, even at his young age. He walked to the library to find a map, and in the time he finally located it and rolled it out, there was more on the page.

A drawing of something weird and arrow-shaped. this is our sigil. its a manta ray.

Stannis had never seen one, but he had a sense that wasn’t what they looked like. He tried looking through the map, but words kept appearing.

whats your nam where are you from? ?? are you a boy or girl do you like horses ? I like swiming and horses! im good at it

He considered closing the book again, rolling up the map, going back to whatever he was doing before. If there was no point, then why bother with this? ... Then again, he’d have to go back to the training yard, and Robert was there swinging around a huge wooden sword.

Stannis frowned, deciding this was the less annoying (and painful) activity for now. He found an ink pot and quill, held it tightly and wrote in a fine penmanship—

My name is Stannis Baratheon.

The last part smudged, and it didn’t look exactly how his father signed it, but it was his best. The response wasn’t immediate, and he quickly saw why. A drawing of a stag appeared on the paper before the words did.

Its good to meat you! lets be friends

Friends? Friends. He thought about it. Stannis didn’t have friends, just brothers. He didn’t think he needed any. This didn’t have to be so bad, though, he could try. If it was too tiresome, or too... strange, he could stop. Maester Cressen wanted him to stop, anyhow, and his mother said he didn't have to.

It’s spelled ‘meet’. We can be friends.

Lady Cassana patted his mess of black hair, and Stannis didn’t flinch away this time. Instead, he asked, “Were you and father soulmates?”

“No,” She answered honestly. She was always honest, and he liked that. His father joked too much. “Do you remember what I told you about duty? Sometimes we have to set aside our hearts to best serve our realm. Sometimes we have to set aside this.”

She gave the leather book back to him. Maester Cressen had taken it, and he was determined to accept the punishment, but it bothered him more than he wanted to say. He was grateful his mother returned it, though he was struggling to meet her eyes. His ears were still red from embarrassment, but she wasn’t upset, or teasing, or scolding.

“It hurt me to set my own down, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Your father had one that he never wrote to. The idea of having it and setting it aside was too much for him. And yet, we love each other very much, and we love our sons.” Lady Cassana stopped touching his hair when he finally squirmed away. Stannis ran his fingers along the leather spine and the uneven parchment bound inside the book.

When he took a long time to answer, she spoke softly. “It’s your decision, Stannis.”

That night, he wrote in the book, asking what she’d do when they grew up. When she'd stop writing. The response was instant. There was a drawing of a sad girl next to her words.

your my friend! i like writing to you. do you want to stop?

I don’t. Stannis decided, and that was it.

The talks still came, though. It happened before, several times, and here it was again. It didn’t matter that he stopped bringing the book to his lessons, or that he only wrote in the privacy of his room. Maester Cressen always seemed to know.

“It’s for your own good that you begin to set it aside, Stannis,” The old man said. He always seemed old, but when he was scolding it was especially so.

Stannis wasn’t one to talk back, but he still struggled to hide his scowl. This wasn’t the first time the maester made him set his jaw and tense it up. It wasn’t his business. She never discouraged it, so he didn’t understand why Maester Cressen had to.

“It’s not inappropriate,” He said. “She’s a lady. I never write improperly, it's like sending letters."

“Sending a strange lady letters is inappropriate,” The Maester sighed. “Especially without the knowledge of her family. What would they say?"

“She could tell them at anytime."

“Do you tell your lord father and lady mother all that you write, then?”

Stannis gritted his teeth and turned away. At ten and three, Stannis could already see over the old man’s head, and he didn't feel like a child, so he didn't appreciate being talked to like one. “You don’t speak to Robert about these matters.”

“Robert is at the Eyrie, no doubt being told the same by Lord Arryn. Stannis, do you understand why I say these things? Do you understand the trouble it could cause you, and worse, her?”

Maester Cressen often referred to ‘her’, or the girl, even if she was just as grown as Stannis. He didn't ask her identity, and Stannis didn't give it. He hated having to hear this conversation again. Of all the trouble Robert was already causing in the Eyrie — he saw those letters, it was his duty to attend to them while his parents were at sea — Stannis felt like his own actions were hardly important. There would be weeks where he couldn’t write to her at all, or she was busy as well. If anyone tried to read what they wrote, gods forbid, it was mostly idle talk and drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings, she still had that habit. She was getting very good at them. Stannis brought his mind back to the present. “I understand.” He said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t actually intend to stop.

Case in point, he pulled out the worn leather book that evening. It was the second, or maybe the third one. If she didn’t draw so much they’d have more room, but sometimes Stannis wrote a lot, too. She made it easy to do that. It was alright if she didn’t answer right away, or if at all. It was good to just write it.

He frowned as he moved to the most recent page. It was a short, curt sentences, which wasn’t like her. There were no pictures.

My cousin died this morning. We were riding together, and she fell from her horse. I couldn’t help her. No one blames me, but I feel terrible. I’ve been crying all day. I’m going to the Godswood tonight to pray for forgiveness. I might be quiet. I'm sorry.

‘I might be quiet’. ‘I might not write tonight.’ ‘I’ll write to you tomorrow’. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I can’. Those were phrases the two of them were used to. It was expectant. They may not write every day, or every week, but eventually they will.

Take the time you need. I’ll be here for you.

It made his chest hurt to write that, but he knew it was the right thing. It’s what she would always say to him, and without fail, he’d eventually come around and tell her. She was the only one he really told… anything. He wondered if the same was true for her. She mentioned visiting ladies now and again, a knight’s daughter she played with, and… this cousin.

He kept the book beside him the rest of the evening, knowing she likely wouldn’t respond. By the time she did, the earlier conversation with the maester had left his mind.

The longest they’d gone without writing was during the following year. It took months before he could pick the book up again, even look at it. It was months using all the willpower he had to get out of bed and carry on. There was Renly to look after, and Storm’s End to attend to, and the duties that Robert neglected when he returned to the Eyrie. He should have stayed, but he didn’t. So Stannis took care of it. He did what was right.

When he was finally able to pick up the book, when the choking pain keeping him up at night had dulled to just a constant ache that allowed sleep now and again, he hesitated.

The latest page was inquiries of how he was, where he was. There was a variety of pictures, black and some colors she’d managed to get ahold of. Her manta rays looked like proper rays, and so did the stags she had become so fond of. She drew some ships she’d seen in the harbor, a cat that liked to hide away in her bedroom. Then the pictures stopped.

My father told me what happened. Stannis, I’m here. You can write to me, whenever you can. I’ll always be here.

It hurt again. He closed the book, listened to the fire flickering loudly in the hearth in his room. It was becoming stuffy, but he didn’t want to open a window. He could hear the waves and the crashes against the rock from his window, and that would lead to the sounds of broken wood and screams in his sleep.

He moved closer to the fire, away from those sounds. Flipping through the old book’s pages, looking at the art and some of the sillier things she wrote. Apparently when he’d make her laugh, she’d screw up some letters. She told him as much. When he corrected any spelling, she liked to make the same mistake and circle it. She liked to draw little figures that were supposed to be them, but it was awful on purpose, and they were usually doing something ridiculous like riding a dragon.

Looking back on those gave him the strength to flip to the newest page. He stared at it, wondering if he should stop. He was acting Lord of Storm’s End. Wasn’t his duty even more important than this, and wasn’t her reputation in danger? ‘Willed by the gods’, they said, but he no longer believed in those. What gods would smash his parents and their great ship against the rocks of their own castle? The same stupid gods that would create this... this connection in a world where it would inevitably be severed.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain shoot up across his jaw and straight to his head, where a headache would start. The fire was right there. It would be easy to …

His hands moved on their own. The words were sloppy and left heavy ink blotches on the paper. I’m here.

I am too. I missed you.

The response was near instantaneous. Perhaps if she waited, he could’ve done it. He could’ve burned it, if she hadn’t wrote that. Maybe it didn’t matter what she’d say. The sudden longing and loneliness hit him all at once, but it was easy to respond.

I won’t do it again. Being gone for this long.

A pause, a heartbeat, and a tensing of his jaw that made his head ache again. He added in an anxious scrawl, I missed you too.

It was another sleepless night, but for once, it wasn’t because of the nightmares and the crashing waves. The sun came up as he wrote in the margins of the last page, promising to find a new book.

There was modest wooden box he kept them in, hidden under his bed. He was good at hiding it now. No one had bothered mentioning Stannis’ old habit anymore, assuming he’d grown out of it. He’d dated all of them to the best of his knowledge, though he rarely went back to read them. He used to, but that simple act flustered him horribly. They were still in good condition, except for one that had been partially chewed by a hunting hound. The one time he was careless.

The hound was no longer around, and he regretted that. He liked dogs. He liked that one, upset as he was when she chewed the diary years ago. She was still a good, loyal dog. He had to butcher her with the rest.

Stannis tried to remember when they ate the dogs. Thinking was a slow, laborious process now. He had to sit down to do it, and getting up was even worse. He stayed standing as long as possible, afraid of what would happen if he stopped. He couldn’t stop, not while his men needed him, and Renly, and Robert.

He moved slowly. It was hard to tell if it was to conserve energy or if he simply had no energy left. Stannis carefully unwrapped the small leather strap that kept the diary bound and closed. His shaking hands struggled to grasp the paper and turn the pages, but he managed. It was the writing that was the hardest. At least there was plenty of paper and ink, only because no one could eat it.

When he looked at the page again, the lighting was different. The candle was lower than before. He’d dropped his quill on the floor — no, he was on the floor, leaning against the cool stone. Stannis didn’t remember falling. He wasn’t sure if he passed out, or fell asleep. Again he turned to the proper page and picked up the quill. He tried to write before he remembered he needed ink. The ink dragged across the page as he wrote languidly, Are you there

The question mark was more of an ugly splotch that spread across the paper.

Yes, always.

Her family supported the rebellion, being sworn to Eddard Stark, and outraged at what the Mad King had done to his father and brother. Stannis told himself it made writing easier, not that he’d ever give her any information that could endanger her. Early on, they didn’t speak of it. Especially now, he couldn’t. He couldn’t…

He couldn’t… think. Stannis struggled for words. He mentioned what day it was, how many men he had left. A log that helped keep him grounded, something he hated to subject her to, but he needed the clarity. Sometimes she corrected him on the day, and that startled him. As he finished his short report, his hand trembled, and he dropped the quill again. Stannis exhaled, forcing the air through his lungs, then struggled to breath in again.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he looked at the page again. She wrote a lot, and he couldn’t remember when it was there.

When you make it through this disgusting siege — and you will make it, Stannis — I’ll be there. I swear it, I’ll sail down to Storm’s End with my family’s ships. I don’t care anymore. I want to be there.

She’d said as much before, when this started. Stannis discouraged her. He didn’t have the strength for that anymore. Instead, he fought to keep his eyes open, fought to think about it, difficult as thinking was. Thinking of their meeting used to be a surefire way of a day full of anxious thoughts, but now it was… grounding. He couldn’t see the end of the rebellion, or the end of this siege. He just had to endure it. That’s what Robert said: Endure it, brother. Hold it for me.

But he could see her, in his thoughts. He could try. Some years ago, she asked what he looked like, and he responded as such: Blue eyes, black hair, like his father and brothers. Asking the same of her felt… strange. She didn’t answer right away, so he panicked. He said she didn’t have to do such a thing. It was inappropriate. She told him to wait, which he thought was odd.

Several hours later, she took up nearly a whole page with a ‘messy’ self-portrait: her words, not his. It was only a bust, but it still transfixed him. It was clear from the drawing she had looked in a mirror, and it was messy, and it was surrounded by words describing her hair color and her favorite dress and her eyes. Stannis couldn’t look at the page for days after that. He’d break out in a sweat just thinking about it.

It was comforting to think about the old picture now. Maybe 'comforting' wasn’t the right word, but she was the one who was good with words, and pictures, and little fantasies like this. She liked to write about what they could do if they met.

Maybe he took too long to respond again. She had written more. We’ll meet and you’ll show me the drum walls around Storm’s End. You promised. I’ll bring my best paintings, I made one for you. I don’t care if it’s allowed or not, it’s a gift. I want to see you so badly it hurts.

Stannis touched the letters. He was startled by how his pale hands seemed to blend into the parchment. He didn’t recognize the knuckles sticking out. He wondered what she sounded like, and how she laughed. He didn’t think he could manage it now. Stannis glanced around for the quill, dipped it into ink with a great deal of effort, and slowly slid it across the paper. He stopped abruptly, ruining the words.

You’re the strongest, most noble man I know. You will make it through this and the rebellion will end, and I’ll be with you. I swear it before the old gods and new.

The ink seeped into the paper, the quill trembled in his hand as he tried to hold it properly. He was dying, he decided. Only dying men ate disgusting leather they tried to boil into water and infected rats. Even the latter was becoming scarce. He scrawled a response, struggling to pull the words together.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Stannis.

[danetobelieve]

Don’t Drop Dead || Athena and Winston

When: 22/06/2020 Who: @athenaquinn & @danetobelieve. Where: The carnival . Summary: Athena and Winston try the drop ride with varied success. Warnings: None

Winston shifted their glasses and shuffled their feet. The ice cream they’d bought from one of the stands as they waited for Athena to arrive was good. Really good. It was days like this when Winston really enjoyed the summers of Maine. The weather was amazing, the sun shining, the sky a deep sapphire and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. There was a cool breeze rolling in from the ocean and sure there was the weird creepy carnival music but Winston could forget that. They were determined to have a normal, cool, absolutely okay time. No weird supernatural shenanigans. Spotting Athena, they waved and made their way over. “Hey, you get here okay?”

When she’d first heard about the carnival, Athena had been intrigued. If nothing else, it gave her something else to occupy her mind after everything that had happened recently. Winston was a good person to spend time with, and she found herself feeling oddly relieved that they wanted to spend time with her. Something new, but not something she was used to feeling, but she did consider them a friend and there was a small pang somewhere in her whenever they said they didn’t want to spend time together. But you didn’t invite people you hated to the carnival - or at least good people like Winston didn’t. It was a nice day - just warm enough and perfect weather to finally break out her shorts and one of her Kappa Iota Lambda rush shirts. Casual, but she knew that she still looked good. Summertime did make hiding the knives a bit more difficult, but she still had one pressed against her hip bones, covered by her shirt. No matter how possibly normal this carnival might be, it was always important to be safe. She arrived and began to make her way over, pausing as they began walking too. “I did. Nice to do normal small town things.” Athena grinned at them. “So, what would you like to do first?” She shook her head for a moment, her gaze flicking over to their neck. “Actually, no, nevermind, what on earth happened to you?”

Honestly, Winston was amazed that the wound on their neck had healed as much as it had. They shared it now. With Luce and Nell. They each had a third of the same scar that Bea did. Where she had lost her head … quite literally. Fortunately however, they had been able to reattach it and now things were looking better for all of them. But Winston kind of sucked at lying. So they did their best not to. “Oh, this?” they knew that although it was mostly healed and just a few days away from becoming a fully healed scar, “I had a run in with some undead …” it wasn’t technically a lie, “and I got cut and it’s still healing. Don’t worry, it’s fine. I was with a bunch of other spell casters and a hunter came and helped us too so we were fine in the end.” Again, none of that was a lie. But they had been very careful to not explain that something was undead because of them. They knew the taboo around necromancy. They weren’t going to risk anything happening to the Vural’s because of this. They didn’t deserve that. “You want to go on one of the rides or something?” Winston tried to ignore Athena’s legs. But they were toned, the brief glance had told them that. It was infuriating that she was so hot. It was also infuriating that she was apparently so oblivious … to everything. “I heard that they’ve got some pretty good stuff this time round but I never really came here before so i don’t have a comparison point.” 

At their mention of a run in with some undead Athena felt her body tense up. That vampire back months ago? Something else? But they mentioned that there was at least another hunter there and she breathed a sigh of relief. “At least someone else was there to help you. I hope everything got taken care of.” Even though part of her felt a small pang that they hadn’t thought to call her. Maybe it had been a slayer who’d come by, who’d sensed what was wrong and had helped out because of that. She’d focus on that rather than the fact that maybe they didn’t want to call on her. They’d agreed to go to the carnival with her and that was something. Maybe they were starting to understand her perspective more - or maybe, based on the fact that she caught them looking at her out of the corner of her eye - it was just that she was pretty. She’d take either. Perhaps the shorts had been a good choice outside of sheer practicality.  “Sure, we can go on a ride!” She grinned. “Which one did you have in mind? I can’t recall if I’ve been to this carnival before, but it’ll be fun to go on some anyhow, I think.” She placed her hands on her hips and looked over to them. “What sounds best to you?”

“Oh, yeah, we solved the problem and having help is definitely great.” Bea was no longer dead, but August had instead taken her place. Winston didn’t regret their decision, they just weren’t sure that their conscience felt the same. It didn’t matter, they were going to have to learn to live with it because there was no going back now. Glancing around they spotted a drop ride and raised an eyebrow at it, the lurching pit in their stomach was already there. It had been there since they’d brought Bea back. It felt like they were boiling under their skin at moments and then at others it was just a pit. So what was a drop ride compared to that right? Eager to find something that they could do together, “We could try that?” Winston asked tentatively, “I don’t know what the ride is called but I guess it looks cool?” Winston wasn’t really the type to go to carnivals and fun fairs, theme parks were even kind of a step to far. But here they were anyway, trying their best to enjoy a more normal summer. 

“I’m glad. Not that I’d ever doubt your skill in problem solving.” Athena gave a small nod. “You do know how to think fast and on your feet.” She watched them carefully as they took a look around the carnival. Truthfully, she did not care what the two of them did. While she loved the feeling of how busy the carnival was, she knew that she still had to keep an eye out. “Yeah, sure - if you’d like.” She bit her lip for a moment. “I don’t know what it’s called either, but it looks like quite something.” She could hear the sound of screams as the ride cycled back up again to start. It’s just a ride, not somewhere to save people. Probably. “Let’s do it.” She grabbed their hand for a moment and pulled them over to where the ride was, before dropping it and walking up to the operator. “We’d like to go next, please.” She flashed them a small smile. Always best to make a good first impression, if possible. The operator gave the two of them a once over with a small grin and motioned to stand in line, just behind a couple other people. 

“You’ve lived in White Crest long enough to realise that sometimes you don’t have any choice other then thinking on your feet.” Winston almost protested when Athena grabbed their hand, before gratefully realising that they’d not grabbed the hand with the eye in it. That might’ve hurt. They weren’t really sure, no one had grabbed it yet. “Cool, yeah, sure, cool.” Winston smiled as best they could, honestly they were still recovering from the ritual. It was hot as shit. They weren’t sure that a drop ride was really the best idea but suddenly they were being ushered into the line. Winston watched the ride wind up, lifting the members of the public strapped into their seats high into the air before bringing them down before stopping just mere feet away from the ground. There were screams of delight, terror and horror. Winston’s stomach turned and they swallowed their fear the best they could. It was a ride. These were definitely safe. The silence got the better of them and Winston couldn’t help but break it. “Having a good summer?” Winston asked as they were harnessed into their seats. 

“I mean, yes. I do in fact think on my feet a lot. I like to think it’s a good skill, though the ways that I have to do so aren’t always easily discussed with the wider world.” Athena raised an eyebrow. It was nice to be able to admit that, even though Winston didn’t know the full extent of what she did. Not that she cared, nor did she think whatever she did was wrong, but there was a small part of her that wanted to keep them out of at least part of it. Even though they hadn’t seemed to have any issue with her being a hunter she knew that it was not something she was supposed to talk about in most company. It was much nicer, anyhow, to just enjoy their company. Maybe she should have talked them out of this ride, she wondered, as she noticed their face as the two of them got towards the front of the line. One of the people working on the ride glanced at Winston with a broad smile on their face and Athena flashed them a glare. Not that she was even close to being nice all the time, but there was something about the smile that unnerved her just slightly. Before she could take time to process it, they were ushered onto the ride and Winston was asking her questions. “Huh? Yeah! I am!” She grinned. “Soccer camp starts in a bit over a week, and I’m super excited to help coach that. How about you? You graduated, right? What’s it like out in the big wide world?” They’d still have a minute or two while everyone else was buckling in. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’ll have to do that soon.”

Everything always circled back to the fact that they weren’t normal and they weren’t in a normal place and it wasn’t a normal time. Winston didn’t mind. It wasn’t their fault. But even now they knew that there was this constant reminder that something was different. “If you couldn’t think on your feet then I would have legitimate concerns about your survival in this place.” As they were strapped into their seat, Winston listened carefully to what Athena had planned. “Oh, nice cool, soccer camp sounds like a good way to keep busy plus you get to enjoy all of this great weather.” There was the familiar click of a buckle sliding into place and then suddenly the attendants were stepping back. “Oh, yeah, I graduate-” Winston’s words were quite literally left behind them as they were shot up into the air. From the ground it hadn’t looked quite so violent. But in that second Winston was dragged through the air, the g-force causing any loose skin to ripple from the momentum of the ride. Winston’s mouth was open and screaming some obscenity but they were convinced that any sound they’d made had been left behind. As they were dragged through the air they were just as quickly falling and as the ground came flying towards them Winston was gripped with terrror and then as quickly as it all started it stopped. Gasping in breaths of air, Winston sat in silence for a moment before turning and looking at Athena. “I don’t remember what we were talking about…”

“I’ve been thinking on my feet and been darn good at it since I was tiny.” Athena raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t afraid to admit that. Orion would have said that she thought on her feet more than with her brain sometimes, but it got the both of them out of trouble so who was he to complain about her process? “Yeah, and it’s a good way to stay active, too.” Winston was about to comment when all of a sudden the ride started and it was not the sort of rush that she liked. Not one that she got from doing her duty, nor one she felt after a good game or run. Then, suddenly they were back on the ground she unclenched her hands from the fists that had formed, nails digging into the palms of her hands. “What?” She looked over to them. “I - I don’t either. I also worry I might be sick.” She looked over at them. “I’d like to be done with this ride though. Maybe go get a slush or something? It’s hot out.” She tugged at the collar of her shirt. One of the operators was walking over towards them, glancing over at Athena - they brushed against her shoulder and when she met their gaze, about to ask them if they could please be let off of the ride all she could see was her brother, dead on the floor, body cold. “No!” She screamed, pushing against the man. “I mean,” she caught her breath, looking around. Orion was nowhere to be seen. Her hands felt clammy and she looked over to Winston, before back to the man, “I see there - there’s others waiting to go. Can you let us off?” She wasn't afraid. She didn’t get afraid. That wasn’t her job. 

“Some of us are clearly just born lucky,” Winston couldn’t help the sarcasm, of course they were joking. They hoped Athena didn’t take offense to it, they just hadn’t been a natural at any of this. They weren’t sure that they were even good at it now. They felt like they were often just doing enough to keep their head above the surface and that was it. “Exactly, staying active is very important.” Yet Winston really made little to no effort to stay fit, they hadn’t returned to the gym after happening to meet Athena there. Though that might’ve been more because of how busy they had been rather then anything more. “Yeah let’s definitely not do that again,” a drink sounded like a good idea, except Athena suddenly looked pale. Winston knew she wanted to get them off and this wasn’t that difficult tech. Reaching out with their mind they focussed on the locking mechanism and sending the relevant electrical charges to the right place. Except, of course they overdid it. They hadn’t anticipated the amount of power that was going to come surging out of them and the locks exploded open with quite a lot of force. The restraints snapping open and Winston couldn’t help but blush as people yelped in surprise. “That was weird…”

“I mean, I do have an advantage in the genetics department as far as that goes.” She raised an eyebrow. Athena didn’t speak for a moment after they’d stopped and the man had come over. Rio was okay, he was alive, everything was fine. Then why did she feel a sense of unease? Why did the man look like he was about to reach out again? All of a sudden there was a sound almost like an explosion and the locks opened with far greater force than normal. She caught Winston’s blush and nodded. “Really weird.” She felt herself practically fall out of the ride, though at least her natural abilities were always there for her, and so she caught herself, readjusting her position. She stood up and began walking away from the ride, hoping Winston would follow her. “I’m sorry. I just - well, never mind. We should go do something else.” She turned around and flashed a glare at the man. At least she’d thrown him off, at least she’d had the sense to do that. “I need something to eat. We should find that slush.” The coolness of the iron against her hip felt all too appealing, but this was a public space and she couldn’t do anything right now.

As Athena stumbled out of the ride, Winston was quick to follow suit. They’d decided the longer that they spent at this carnival the more certain they were that they didn’t want to come back if it was going to be like this every time. “I am glad that was over, I don’t think that will be a ride that I ever go on again.” They were worried about Athena. It was clear that whatever had happened to her on the ride had rattled her and Winston hadn’t ever seen her like that before. “Are you okay … did something happen other then the rides nearly exploding?” Winston felt guilty about that but from the way that Athena had reacted they had tried to get her out of the situation that made her uncomfortable as soon as they could. “Defo, let’s get some food.” Winston wanted a corndog, where better place to get one at a carnival?

“I don’t think I’ll go on one of those ever again, either.” Athena half-whispered. Then Winston was asking how she was and she shook her head. “I just saw something back there. Something that there’s no way was real. I don’t - I’m not seeing things, though.” She bit her lip. “Like, I don’t know, a vision - something that I’ve only seen in the worst parts of my imagination, of what-ifs.” She forced a smile onto her lips and bumped her hip against one of theirs. Trying to at least attempt to make light of it. “Good. Maybe I just haven’t eaten enough.” She knew of some creatures - not as much detail as she should have - that could cause horrifying visions, but the idea of them running a ride made her feel ill. “I’ll buy. I should probably get myself something that isn’t just sugar. Maybe I’ll go all out and get fries or something.” She grinned. “What about you?”

Frowning gently at Athena’s description of what had happened to her, Winston sighed and nodded. “That is weird,” they didn’t know what the hell could’ve caused that sort of thing for Athena and they were pretty sure that she wasn’t the type to get hysterical or freak out and make things up, no they believed her, “let’s make sure that we keep some distance between them, it just sounds like they got to you a bit maybe?” Winston wasn’t really sure honestly what the hell they’d done to Athena but they didn’t want to repeat the performance for her. “It’s pretty hot too, we can chill out for a bit and try and calm down….” Winston honestly couldn’t have felt more useless if they had tried. “Uh, maybe a corndog or something…” they shrugged, “we could see what they’ve got?” 

“Really weird. I - I’ll ask when I go home.” She shrugged off the would-be mention of her parents. Clearly they were hunters, if she was, but she also didn’t want to go down that route. Not right now, right now she’d focus on Winston. They were there. They were a solid, real person for Athena to focus on. “I guess, it’s whatever.” She shrugged. “It is hot, and I think I’m just about done with rides. We can just eat and walk around or whatever?” She looked over at them and smiled. “Hey, it’s okay! Maybe I didn’t sleep well enough, or something? I’d love to go and see what they’ve got.” She took a few steps forward and turned back to look at them. “I appreciate what you did back there, both for the sheer wow factor and for helping me out. Goodness knows I didn’t want them getting us out of that ride.”

Raising an eyebrow, Winston blushed a little bit. They had been hoping that their little incident on the ride hadn’t been noticed but of course it had been. Athena was as observant as ever, which made sense. “Yeah, well, you looked like you needed an out and I wanted to do my best to give us one without drawing too much attention.” Which they hadn’t exactly succeeded in, maybe that wasn’t that important though. No one had realised it was them aside from Athena and she knew about their magic. Had for a while. “That’s a good idea,” Winston agreed as they headed towards the stalls of food, it was your standard affair. Nothing really out of place. Nothing that you wouldn’t expect to be there. “You have something that you want specifically?” 

“Well, I’ve saved you, you’ve saved me, I think I like how this is all balancing itself out, don’t you?” Athena winked at them. “Besides, you know this town, they’ll just say it was some hardware malfunction or something else and everyone will forget about it.” She offered them a soft smile. “If anything, maybe they’ll pause that ride for a while and that can only benefit everyone.” She pulled a scrunchie off of her wrist and tied her hair up into a ponytail before focusing back on Winston. “I think I could do with some fries first, at least - which you’re welcome to share, if you want. Maybe we’ll find a booth with both those and the corndog you’re looking for?” 

“I don’t know if that is necessarily comparable to fighting off a bunch of vampires, but I’ll take it anyway.” Winston returned her wink with a smile. Despite everything they still enjoyed Athena’s company and she was Rio’s sister. They wanted to make Rios family work for him, but somehow they couldn’t help but think about the fact that Rio’s parents had definitely been the worst parents there were. Was Athena really entirely to blame for the way she’d turned out? “I was hoping that it would just be clocked to a malfunction or something because people wouldn’t know for sure what had happened, I think I’m safe. Besides, if anyone normal asks they’re not going to believe in magic. “Uh, we can definitely look,” it didn’t take long for Winston to locate a food truck that had both. “Do you want a slushie too?” 

“Well, I think it’s plenty impressive. Besides, I don’t always fight vampires,” her tone was hushed, now. Even if other people didn’t believe in the supernatural, Athena didn’t want them overhearing, “that’s not my specialty.” She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I bet they will. I mean, magic?” Her voice was still quiet, only audible to Winston. “As if! You know these sorts of cheap rides, they’re always breaking down.” She followed their gaze to the food truck. “Oh, wonderful. I’m paying, and sure, I’ll get a slush. When in Rome, right?”

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 13: MEPHILES

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a mini-series of mine, in which I’ll be going into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, we’ll be covering the malevolent spirit of Sonic the Hedgehog 2006, and #1 Shadow cosplayer across the nation: Mephiles the Dark.

The Gist: On Sonic's 15th anniversary, a little game was released. You might have heard of it. People like to bring it up a lot, regardless of the time or reason. It's called Sonic the Hedgehog, ostensibly, but we tend to call it Sonic '06.

It did not live up to expectations.

But what's the story?

Life was suffering for poor Silver the Hedgehog. His world was ravaged by a fire monster, he could never truly defeat said fire monster no matter how hard he tried, and his sole companion was only there because the writers didn't understand how backstories work. Things appeared to be looking up for him though, when he was approached by a mysterious black hedgehog, who offered a permanent solution to the hero's seemingly fruitless quest. Silver looked at this hedgehog with no mouth, slitted eyes, and ominous deep voice, and accepted the offer without hesitation.

"If only they knew..." *wink*

The completely trustworthy hedgehog reasoned that in order to destroy the Flames of Disaster, Iblis, Silver must destroy the one who unleashed it in the first place. The "Iblis Trigger", if you will. Who is this catalyst though, according to this perfectly benevolent hedgehog? None other than Sonic the Hedgehog, the hero of whatever Sonic's world is called this week. No more Sonic, no more Iblis, so says the absolutely well-intentioned hedgehog. Silver accepts all of this without question, because his intelligence ranks somewhere between "potato" and "Madoka Magica protagonist". He's then sent on his way by the definitely good-natured hedgehog through the means of time travel. This is barely questioned as well.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Shadow the Hedgehog is doing his duties as a new member of G.U.N, as they were fortunately able to make amends and can now look back and laugh at the time they killed his friend. His mission is to assist fellow agent Rouge the Bat in the kingdom of Soleanna, and when he catches up to her, she reveals a peculiar discovery: a tool known as the Book Scepter of Darkness.

Even the PS3 lighting couldn't contain its power.

After a brief discussion about the kingdom's history, they made their way through the ruins of the ancient Soleanna castle, where Anti-Furry Activist Dr. Eggman was waiting for them, in the hopes that they would politely give the Book Scepter of Darkness to him. The two comrades tussle with some of the doctor's robots, but the Book Scepter suffers in the midst of the crossfire, and is destroyed completely... releasing a slightly phallic surge of dark energy in the process. Eggman promptly gets the fuck out of there, and the darkness soon takes the form of Shadow himself... and the same hedgehog that would appeal to Silver's wishes. He also knows who Shadow is.

"Fucking hell, this is my design...?"

His name? Mephiles the Dark.

Not Mephisto.

Not Mephistopheles.

Mephiles.

The Dark.

Mephiles the Dark.

Mephiles the Evil.

Mephiles the Hoodlum.

Mephiles the Wrong'un.

Mephiles the Right Prick.

So you know he's a villain who demands to be taken seriously.

Mephiles quickly sends Shadow and Rouge on what he dubs "a one-way ticket to oblivion", which is actually just the same place where Eggman forcibly sent Sonic away to, alongside his buddies Tails and Knuckles. It's Silver's time period, the one plagued by the Flames of Disaster. Shadow contemplates these recent happenings as the colour palette suddenly dies for no reason.

A minor disappointment in an otherwise high-quality gaming experience.

Since the computers in this horribly ruined world still work better than Windows Vista, they use one of them to figure out the nature of their plight, and maybe check out Craigslist while they're at it. They are understandably concerned about the answer, as a madman with time travelling capabilities is no laughing matter. Shadow takes this potential threat very seriously, and he will not be distracted under any circumstance.

When they meet up with Team Sonic, they decide to work together in order to figure out how to get back to their time, because friendship truly is magic. Along the way, Shadow and Rouge discover the dusty form of a sleeping E-123 Omega, and they leave him there. Because friendship truly is magic.

Soonafter, the five of them encounter Iblis, and a tedious battle ensues until Iblis itself gets bored and fucks off. Using the power of two Chaos Emeralds, they induce Chaos Control, which in this game means...

*spins Deus Ex Machina wheel*

...they go back in time. Alright then.

So they do. Except for Shadow, who catches sight of the evil Mephiles the Dark and immediately gives chase. Mephiles has a surprise for him however... another Shadow. An imprisoned Shadow. Mephiles claims that he was used as a scapegoat for what happened with Iblis, which naturally unnerves the Ultimate Lifeform.

RAW EMOTION

Mephiles offers Shadow to join him in his cause for justice, under the belief that humanity hates Shadow, humanity fears Shadow, and humanity will make a martyr out of Shadow the first chance they get. Unfortunately for Mephiles, Black Doom said all this beforehand, and he's dead now, cause Shadow ain't taking this shit anymore. He made a promise to the Professor and Maria, and he intends to keep it. It's time to live up to his family name, and face Full Life Consequences™.

They fought.

Shadow won.

With a little help from a non-dusty, present day Omega, who was sent by Rouge.

Mephiles escaped with his time travel prowess, and Shadow and Omega followed after him. They arrived back in the present, but with no sign of the deadly demon. Meanwhile, said demon was reiterating to Silver that Sonic is totally the Iblis Trigger he's after, absolutely, dead-on. Silver barely questions him once more, and as punishment for his extreme foolishness, Shadow finds him and teaches him a lesson in pain.

"I'm Shadow the Hedgehog. Get shanked. This is who I am."

During battle, they accidentally induce Chaos Control together, which summons another time portal that Shadow somehow already knows in advance where it'll take them. They travel to ten years prior, where they find the then-alive ruler of Soleanna, the Duke, attempting valiantly to harness the energy of the omnipotence known as Solaris. Instead, he gets an explosion in the face, and Solaris divides itself into two different entities. Aggressive flames, and a mass of darkness... Iblis and Mephiles. They were two halves of the same being the whole time.

The two hedgehogs split up to stop the two halves from escaping. Thanks to the Book Scepter of Darkness the dying Duke gave him, Shadow successfully seals the formless Mephiles away, thus explaining how Mephiles knew who Shadow was ten years later. Shadow and Silver eventually return to the present, but not before Silver laughs in the face of Sonic continuity and gives his blue Chaos Emerald to the young Princess Elise, the daughter of the recently Wasted™ Duke.

After reuniting with Rouge, and after obtaining a brand new Book Scepter of Darkness, Shadow and her learn that E-123 Omega is engaging Mephiles, meaning they must head to Wave Ocean (head to Wave Ocean?)... ... ...Shadow and her learn that E-123 Omega is engaging Mephiles, meaning they must head to Wave Ocean immediately. (Sorry about that, I'll fix it in post.)

Omega was indeed engaging Mephiles. Very easily at that. Yet Mephiles took his humiliation in stride and escaped while laughing all the way. Omega confesses to Shadow that he is in fact the one who will go on to imprison him in the future. Rouge reassures her old friend that even if the rest of the world turns against him, she'll always be at his side no matter what. Shadow in turn expresses gratitude for one of the only instances of good writing in this game, and the three of them leave for Dusty Desert, where Mephiles is hiding away like a Scooby Doo baddie.

When they finally confront Mephiles, he tries the exact same tactic that failed to bring Shadow over to his side to bring Shadow over to his side. He did not succeed in bringing Shadow over to his side.

"Ugh, blackcurrant."

They fought again.

Shadow won again.

And with the new and improved Book Scepter of Darkness, he seals the villain away once more... for about five seconds, before the Book Scepter unexpectedly tears itself apart. The fiend has apparently developed an immunity to this old song and dance.

"Now for my next trick, I shall make my credibility disappear!"

He then summons a whole pack of Mephiles's's's's's to do away with Team Dark. But unbeknownst to him, Shadow has a trick of his own up his non-existent sleeve. By removing his inhibitor rings, he could become even more needlessly overpowered for a limited period of time. This was more than enough to send the army of clones flying like skittles.

Alas, the real Mephiles escaped yet again. And this time, he topped himself by fulfilling IGN's dreams and killing Sonic the Hedgehog himself. The older Princess Elise, his latest friend, was grief-stricken.

RAW EMOTION

Unable to keep her emotional turmoil in check, the princess wept, which released the mighty Iblis into the present time. As it turns out, this was Mephiles' real plan all along. He intended for Silver to kill Sonic so that Elise's ensuing tears would unleash the flames, but he finally decided to do the deed himself. Using all seven Chaos Emeralds, which he warped them to where he was like it was nothing, Mephiles rejoined with Iblis once more, and Solaris was officially back in business to corrupt reality as he saw fit. Time distortion? Environmental disasters? Soulja Boy game consoles? It's all the work of Solaris.

But while Solaris was fucking time and space's shit up, Sonic's friends (and Silver) gathered all the Emeralds together, and with some... curious assistance from Elise, they brought the dead hedgehog back to life. In his super form, no less. Shadow and Silver were granted some of Super Sonic's power in order to turn super themselves, and the Hedgehog Master Race obliterated Solaris so bad that he reverted to his original form of a tiny white flame... which was soon blown out by Elise, despite knowing that time would reset itself in the process. The threat of losing her memories with Sonic took a toll on her, but with the hedgehog's own encouragement, she pulled through regardless.

Merry Christmas.

Thus, from the Soleanna Festival onward, everything started over. This time around, the festival could commence in peace, as Eggman wasn't there to menace the princess with his golden udders. For the Flames of Disaster, Iblis, Mephiles, Solaris... they were all literally forgotten by time itself until Generations. Why they were now holding a festival for a god who never existed remains a mystery, but Elise couldn't help but feel that the "wind" was strangely familiar, and pleasantly so.

That same wind enjoyed a good night, possibly aware of what he had to go through to get there.

"That's a lovely full moon. A lovely full, whole, complete, non-fractured moon. Would be a shame if something happened to it."

The Design: Mephiles spends his initial scenes as a shit recolour.

"This is my Chaos Emerald OC, his name's Genocide the Blitzkrieg."

On the other hand, he spends his later scenes as a shit recolour.

He can't believe it either.

Which is a shame, because there is an appeal in the concept of a shadowy being made of crystal. It's just incredibly undermined by how it's mimicing Shadow's form, and for little justified reason at that. Outside of a single quip about him being Shadow's shadow, Mephiles doesn't really do anything to warrant the "Evil Shadow" angle he's apparently going for, which makes his recolour status even more pointless.

(And yes, I know his chest hair kind of looks like Solaris. That doesn't mean his design is suddenly good or clever.)

The Personality: Remember how Black Doom was a complete and utter void of evil for its own sake? Good, beause Mephiles is exactly the same, and it could be argued that he's actually worse than Mr. Ten Packs a Day.

Oh sure, you say. He might have a motive in the form of wanting vengeance for being experimented on. Too bad this is not established in any way whatsoever with what we see of Mephiles in the game proper. When he's not transparently fooling Silver, he spends all his time cackling and taunting. Any time he brings up humanity is when it involves Shadow's expense, not his own. His goal to rejoin with Iblis isn't given any tragic or sympathetic angle, and is purely to serve as his Cause Even More Destruction Card. Even Shadow lampshades his lack of motivation beyond craving destruction, and you can’t say his imprisonment in the Book Scepter of Darkness made him go mad, because even before he got sealed the first time around, he was already threatening Shadow with death.

And make no mistake, not all villains need to be especially sympathetic. Villains who are just cruel or selfish bastards for petty reasons can work just fine. Eggman does it beautifully in this very franchise. But Eggman is also funny, brave, intelligent, and has a clear motive beyond evulz that's backing up his actions, despite that motive's simplicity.

What else is there to Mephiles?

His weird attempts at being cryptic...?

"Is Lara-Su Chronicles legit?"

His lackadaisical Crash Bandicoot impression...?

Cortex Laughs Back

There's just nothing to this guy. And for a character with his backstory, it's all the more noticeable and disappointing. But hey, at least he's a cunning schemer and a powerful opponent, right?

Well, about that...

The Execution: I'm going to get straight to the point. I don't like Mephiles. I really don't like Mephiles. Next to Scourge the Hedgehog and Eggman Nega, Mephiles is one of my absolute least favourite characters in the entire Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, adaptations included.

"But why is that?", I hear you not asking. "Why do you detest him so? Is it his design? Is it his lack of personality? Is it his story?"

Those are all key ingredients, yes. But more than anything else, it's that he's played up to be a cunning mastermind, and is regularly applauded even by '06's detractors for being a cunning mastermind... when in reality, he is one of the absolute dumbest characters in the whole franchise. No, that is not an exaggeration. Silver and Elise in the same game were far from flawless, but Mephiles deserves much more ridicule than either of them. He is completely undeserving of the kudos he frequently receives for his supposed magnificent bastardry, and I'm about to tell you why.

Strap in, folks.

We're about to go through why the evil plan of poor Leslie makes no sense whatsoever.

Well done in advance if you don't fall asleep.

Too late.

1. He could have fused with Iblis at any time he wanted. Despite what many fans claim, NOTHING in the final game so much as implies that Mephiles needed certain requirements to fuse with Iblis. Meaning he could have completed his mission at the beginning of the game, from the moment he met Silver for the first time. Instead, he’d rather monologue to Silver and butcher the English language.

Guess I'll go and done that.

Let’s put that aside for a moment though, and assume that Mephiles needed the Chaos Emeralds to fuse with Iblis. That’s reasonable, except...

2. He could warp all seven Chaos Emeralds to his destination immediately. That’s an incredibly useful ability to have, especially when you're plotting something as major as reuniting with the other half of a god-like entity. He has no reason to not use this ability as soon as possible, aside from him simply forgetting he could do it.

Well, Silver had to have some vital role in his plan, surely...?

3. He had no use whatsoever for Silver. He goes out of his way to rely on Silver to eliminate Sonic, but he could easily kill Sonic himself with no trouble at all. Nothing is preventing him from killing Sonic. He’s not trapped somewhere. He’s not been sapped of his powers. All he’s guaranteeing with Silver is giving himself a potential enemy in the future when the jig is inevitably up, and sure enough, in the rare moment when Silver actually questions him, Mephiles dodges the query in the most suspicious manner, and always gives vague, shifty half-answers.

Fig A: The Twitter defense.

He’s only complicating things even more for himself, and again, for no reason. His only potential motivation for manipulating Silver is because it’s the evil thing to do. And the only reason Silver falls for his ruse is because he was made to be a complete idiot in order to make Mephiles look smarter than he actually is. Not that Silver was alone in that department...

But you think “Well, maybe Mephiles is tricky, but not actually that strong. So he needs Silver to kill Sonic since he can’t do it on his own.” It would explain why he’s a damage sponge in his boss fights, and why he relies on minions and clones to do all the work, right?

Nope.

He eventually kills Sonic himself anyway. Which leads us to...

4. He has no limitations to his powers. You might be inclined to assume he would be weak, yet smart, in contrast to Iblis being strong, yet dumb. Admittedly that would make logical sense, and it would tie in thematically to their motifs of being the consciousness and the raw power of Solaris respectively.

But that’s not how it went. Maybe that was the intention (again, note how he’s something of a sitting duck when you get past his minions), but in cutscenes, he’s as much of a powerhouse as the likes of Shadow. Which reinforces the fact that he wasted his time with Silver, because he could have - and did - kill the Blue Blur with his own hands.

But at least he actually killed Sonic, right? After all, that was the key to unleashing Iblis courtesy of Elise’s tears, yes? Weeeellll...

5. He could have killed Elise instead. Elise’s crying is NOT the only way to release Iblis from within her. As the report that Tails read in Crisis City confirmed, Elise had died in that time period due to being aboard the exploding Egg Carrier, and Iblis’ presence is very prominently felt in that time period’s future. So Mephiles could have killed the princess herself and achieved the same results, without ever needing to bother with Sonic and/or Elise’s emotional connection to him.

Okay then, what about Shadow? Mephiles was pretty serious about swaying the Ultimate Lifeform over to his side... wasn’t he...?

6. He wasted his time with Shadow too. Like Silver, his frequent mind games with Shadow served him absolutely no benefit in relation to his goal to reunite with Iblis. He wasn’t even truly invested in turning Shadow evil to begin with. Whenever Shadow tells him to fuck off back to the Antarctic, Mephiles shrugs it off every time. It’s just a game to him, and it’s a game that prolongs his objective even further. Compare this to Black Doom, who at least was genuinely committed in getting Shadow to join him, and as dumb as it was, at least Shadow was actually a vital part in Doom’s scheme.

"It's just... I wasn't ready before... I wasn't sure if I could commit..."

Despite everything however, he still managed to become Solaris in the end. How did he lose then...?

7. He threw the Chaos Emeralds away, thereby giving Sonic’s friends a chance to nab the Emeralds themselves. Which of course revived Sonic, turned him super, and you know the rest. He could have kept the Emralds to himself, or maybe even destroy them outright. Instead, he was generous enough to hammer the final nail in his coffin.

Also, what did he intend to do afterwards? When all of time and space was destroyed, would that have included himself? Or would he have sat around with his thumb up his arse in a featureless void for all of eternity? Your guess is as good as mine.

And finally, let’s go over a few leftover arguments:

“But Crusher, he still KILLED SONIC!”

You’re right, he did. But how did he kill Sonic?

Not by beating him in a fight.

Not by using genuine brilliance.

No... he killed Sonic by distracting him with a light, and stabbing him from behind.

This is hardly flattering for either character. Sonic gets a laughably undignified death, and Mephiles’ method of execution is extremely unimpressive. And on top of that, the dynamic between the hero and the villain falls flat, because there is no dynamic. Sonic himself doesn’t have any kind of connection or relationship with Mephiles, because up until his death, he saw Mephiles a grand total of once. And even then, he knew nothing about him, not even his name. So the person who killed Sonic the Hedgehog - from Sonic the Hedgehog’s point of view - was literally just “some guy”. (Sonic didn’t even acknowledge his existence. It was Knuckles who did that.)

“But Crusher, he still played the other characters for fools!”

You know who else can do that? Del Boy. :P

Mephiles only looks like a master manipulator because with the sole exception of Shadow, the rest of the cast suffered the same fate as Silver. Instead of Mephiles being genuinely intelligent, everyone else is made insanely stupid to hide the fact that Mephiles himself is stupid. Instead of him achieving his goals because he’s legitimately talented or brilliant, he “achieves his goals” because the plot hands them over to him on a silver platter.

“But Crusher, Eggman makes mistakes too!”

That’s true. Eggman does make mistakes. However, there are two small but significant differences that render this comparison moot:

1. None of Eggman’s blunders are on the same tier as Mephiles’ fuck ups. An Eggman mistake is putting an obvious weakspot on his giant boss mech. A Mephiles mistake is going out of his way to jeopardise his entire plan from start to finish.

2. For all his intelligence, Eggman has always had a comedic, goofy edge to his character, so the occasional questionable decision is expected and par for the course for that particular character. Mephiles does not have that excuse. He was intended by the writers to be suave and slick, meaning he has a lot more to lose when he makes consecutive dumbass decisions.

......

I think I’ve made my point. Mephiles the Dark’s reputation vastly overshadows his actual capabilities. To appreciate what he could have been, or what he was meant to be, is one thing. But I’m looking at Mephiles for what he is, in the final product. And what he is in the final product, is one of the worst villains this franchise has ever had. People can laugh it up about Infinite, or the Deadly Six, but they have nothing on this guy. No amount of Dan Green can save him, and while I don’t like to put all of a character’s fans in the one basket, I do strongly believe that at least a sizable margin of his popularity stems from the fact that he’s a hedgehog. Either that, or the fact that he killed Sonic, despite how underwhelming that kill really was.

I’ve went on long enough about Mephiles. Anything else at this point would just be redundant. Here’s a bunch of old memes I’ve made in the past at Leslie’s expense. Enjoy.

Also, his name is dumb.

Crusher Gives Mephiles a: Thumbs Down!

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Cover You In Oil, Part 1

WordCount: 8496 (I promise this is the only chapter that insanely long. I swear. The other ones average around 3500 words) Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 (please let me know if you want to be tagged) Author’s Note: I started writing this fic in July of 2015, shortly after my Mum was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. The idea came to me one day as I was driving to work, so clearly... I knew I had to write it. I love the soulmate trope. As usual - since this isn’t a Star Trek fic and this is a Star Trek blog, let me know if you want to continue to see it or not. Description: Sally Manners has spent her life avoiding the man whose name is etched on the inside of her thigh. Until suddenly she can't. Tony Stark x OFC, Soulmate AU.

Her mother’s soulmark was a beautiful scratchy line of her dad’s script along the side of her foot. It said “You look lost”. A beautiful opening line. Sally’s dad’s soulmark was slightly less romantic, “Not hard to be, in ButtFuck Nowhere”, etched in the large loopy letters of her mom’s hand, just above his collarbone. The romantic notion of the soulmark was not quite so romantic in its gritty reality. This became all the more evident when Sally’s soulmark rose on her skin. It had always been there, a dark, snake-like smudge starting on the outside of her thigh and twisting around her leg before ending just above the inside of her knee. As she got older, and the words finally became visible, Sally realized she would be better hiding out in ‘ButtFuck Nowhere’ with her grandparents, working at the Piggly-Wiggly than ever trying to pursue her passion for anything that might bring her in contact with him. The problem was, her summers spent with Nan and Pops sparked a passion for classic car restoration. And she was damn good at it. It was like it was written in the stars that she was going to eventually meet the man whose actual name was seared on her skin.

Sally had never heard or met anyone whose soulmark actually identified their soulmate. It reeked of arrogance and conceit. It would have been one thing if the damn name had been something common, like John Smith. But even in the days before Wikipedia and Google, Sally had heard of him.

“I’m Iron Man, but I don’t mind if you scream Tony motherfucking Stark when my face is buried between your thighs.” The letters were precise, perfect block letters that almost looked unreal. The first time she’d managed to read all the words, she couldn’t figure out what it meant, but after her first clumsy foray into sexual experimentation, she knew exactly what it meant. And every time she saw it, her cheeks flushed. She never wanted to meet him. She never wanted to hear those words. She never wanted to know what horrified response she would give.

Pops bought the Mustang when she was sixteen, and taught her how to do a complete teardown on it. She rebuilt it from the ground up. The ’65 Shelby Mustang had been rust, congealed oil and regret when Pops towed it into the backyard. Sally had thrown herself into it wholeheartedly, saving up every penny from every summer job she could manage to buy original parts to help restore the car.

“What colour will you paint it, Sal?” Pops asked as her nodded in approval.

“The only colour you can paint it, Pops. Red.” Sally could already see it in her mind’s eye. It took her a whole summer to save for the paint job. On her 18th birthday, Pops handed the pink slip to her, and a photo album documenting the entire job.

“Consider it your resume. You’ll never have a problem getting a job if you drive this car and show off that photo album,” Pops promised.

That was nearly twenty years ago, and the Shelby looked just as good now as it did the day it came back from the paint shop. And Pops had been right. She’d never wanted for work. At her first job, the owner had been a pig. He was more interested in upselling oil changes by trying to convince her to bend over the hoods of cars in shorts than actually seeing what she was capable of. But that job had led to another, with the kind of boss who didn’t care that she was female. Which led to more work. And more work. And eventually an independent contract with one of the best restoration shops in the country, based out of California. Goodbye ButtFuck Nowhere, hello big leagues. Seventeen long, labour intensive years, but she was pulling in six figures, owned a great bungalow with a huge garage and shop, and could pick and choose jobs from a waitlist over three years long.

And if every so often, Sally felt like she was missing out on something because she still hadn’t met her soulmate, she just reminded herself of exactly what kind of man he was by reading a gossip magazine, and the feeling left her. And if every so often, she had an itch she really needed to scratch, well, she lived near Hollywood now, and there was plenty of make-up available to mask that soulmark so whatever erstwhile lover she took wouldn’t spill her secrets. And Tony Stark didn’t seem to be hurting for not having met her, from the looks of things. He was successful, there was the whole superhero thing, and he and that Virginia Potts woman looked awfully close. She must be a saint, Sally thought.

It was a blazing hot Sunday afternoon, and the stereo was cranked as Sally was finishing up on a gorgeous 1970 Dodge Challenger. It was the kind of car that screamed for an appropriate playlist, and Lynyrd Skynyrd was blasting on the stereo. During a break between songs, the unfamiliar staccato of high heels filled the silence in the shop.

“Be right out!” Sally called from under the hood of the car. She twisted the wrench and tightened the bolt on the oil pan. She dropped the tool on the ground with a clang, and pushed herself out from under the car on the dolly.

The woman was tall, and what her mother would have called ‘well put together’, in a tailored cream linen business suit, and nude heels. The look set off the strawberry blonde of her hair and her perfect cheekbones. She looked familiar, but Sally couldn’t place her. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed a rag to wipe her hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her ragged work coveralls, stained with grease and oil. She was sure she was an absolute sight. She’d been so set on finishing the car to send it for paint that she’d rolled out of bed at six am, pulled her sandy blonde hair into a messy knot on the top of her head, and thrown on whatever clothes were on the floor under her coveralls. The look was disheveled in the extreme, but she had only been expecting the tow company later in the afternoon.

Sally made to extend her hand in greeting and then noticed exactly how filthy she was. The Challenger had been a labour of love similar to her Mustang and she’d been consumed with the need to make it perfect. It was being donated by the owner to a charity fundraising for pancreatic cancer research. The disease had stolen her father from her a few years earlier, and so she was donating her time restoring the car to its former glory in the hopes to bring loads of cash in for the research foundation. She withdrew her hand self-consciously.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting clients today,” Sally apologized. “I’m Sally Manners.”

“Virginia Potts, from –“

“Stark Industries. I’ve read about you,” Sally interrupted. “Way to smash the glass ceiling, Ms. Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” she smiled. “This car is stunning. And proves you are exactly the person I am looking for. I have a friend who has the same car. It’s running rough, and needs some body work.”

“Yeah? What colour is his? I’m thinking about purple for this one, just because of the charity,” Sally offered.

“His is red,” Pepper seemed just a little unnerved, and then recovered by gesturing to her cheek. “You have some grease,” she trailed off.

Sally rubbed the rag on her cheek, but suspected she had probably just made the smear worse. “Perks of the job.”

“Anyhow, I understand you have a substantial waitlist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up soon. I’m prepared to make it very worthwhile,” Pepper offered. Sally quirked an eyebrow, wondering if this friend was the man whose name was coiled around her thigh.

“Anyone I’ve heard of?” Sally asked. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If it was for Stark, she could graciously explain her waitlist was just too pressing.

“The archer,” Pepper replied, and pulled a folder out from under her arm. “These are photos of his Challenger. It’s in pretty rough shape, but he loves it. I would be prepared to fly you out to New York all expenses paid to restore the car. I probably could funnel some other work your way. Steve’s just picked up a 1943 Harley that needs some work, and –“

“Can I see the pictures?” Sally waited for Pepper to offer the folder, and then flipped through the file. The Challenger was in rough shape, but it was definitely not a big job. She could probably be in and out in two weeks tops. It wouldn’t be too hard to avoid Tony Stark for two weeks. Would it?

“We have a top of the line garage that you would have access to, and can fully accommodate you in the tower. Meals catered too,” Pepper began.

“Gym? Pool?” Sally was almost teasing, but was curious exactly how much Pepper was willing to offer.

“Of course,” she nodded. “You’ll find our offer for remuneration on the last page.”

Sally flipped past the various photos of the car, and the car’s excessively hot owner and glanced at the last page. Her breath nearly caught. It was half what she made in a year. And she was being offered it for a two-week job. She would be out of her mind to say no, regardless of the potential of encountering Stark.

“This car is going to paint this afternoon. I can be in New York by Thursday,” Sally offered.

“If you can make it Tuesday, I can fly you out on the Stark Industries plane, and save you a commercial flight,” Pepper offered.

“I don’t want to rush this job. I’ll arrange my flight for Thursday.” Sally was not going to risk walking on a plane with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

“Nonsense. I’ll arrange your flight. I’ll email you the details tonight. I’m looking forward to working with you, Sally.” To Sally’s complete surprise, Pepper reached out and shook her hand.

Sally woke with a start early Thursday morning. Her nerves had been a little on edge since agreeing to head to New York. She knew she was being paranoid, but she felt like the skin of her soulmark was itchy, almost burning. And she kept imagining scenario after scenario where she encountered Tony Stark and blurted out some weird and obscure comment that could clue him in to her significance. She’d agonized over packing. Was that outfit too revealing? Would this one catch his eye? The more insignificant she appeared, the better the two weeks would run. She’d even packed her coverage cream just in case, so that her soulmark would be covered at all times, away from prying eyes.

She rolled over and checked her phone. It was only four a.m., but she got up. The sun was rising and the morning was already warm. She pulled on her gear to head out on a run. The run was invigorating and the exact stress release she needed. The nervousness dissipated and by the time she was in the shower, she was eagerly anticipating working on the Dodge.

She settled into her seat on the plane and flipped open the folder of photos that Pepper had given her, to really look into the lines of the car. She’d contacted a shop early in the week and had ordered some parts to be fabricated and sent to Stark Tower to Pepper’s attention. Again, she thanked whatever cosmic intervention had allowed her to be completing the charity Challenger when Pepper contacted her, as it was a small matter to have the same pieces fabricated again, and an order for any others on standby in case the car was in worse shape than she could tell from the photos. Pepper had texted her as she was boarding the plane that they’d been dropped off.

“I’ll have them delivered to the garage for you. Is there anything else you need before you turn your phone off?”

“I’m keen to get started this afternoon. Maybe a pizza? Six-pack of beer?” The last time Sally had been in New York, she’d learned a whole new appreciation for pizza.

“Preferences?”

“Surprise me.” Sally figured Pepper knew beers and pizza. Tony Stark had a well-documented propensity for spending days on end in his lab. Pepper probably knew the best place for every type of take out available.

Flying first class was nothing new to Sally, but she appreciated that Pepper had upgraded the hell out of her when the flight attendance brought her a drink menu. The nerves had been slowly returning since she’d boarded the plane. One drink would relax her just enough that she’d probably nap for the rest of the flight and make it to New York feeling ready to tear down Hawkeye’s Challenger.

“Vodka, please,” Sally requested, handing back the list.

“Ice?” He asked.

“Please.” Sally preferred her vodka neat, but when traveling took ice just for the sake of hydration. She settled back into her seat and put on her headphones. The plane was Wi-Fi enabled, so as she sipped her drink, she worked on the schematic for the car. Eventually, the early morning and vodka combined to make her eyes heavy and she drifted off to sleep, iPad still in her lap. The chime of the overhead system to warn passengers it was time to fasten seatbelts for landing wakened her with a start, and she started momentarily when her iPad was no longer on her lap. The flight attendant walked by and handed to her before she could actually panic.

“You dropped it when you fell asleep,” he explained as he passed it to her.

“Thanks.” She pulled her shoulder bag from the storage compartment by her knees and slipped the iPad and headphones away.

Pepper said there would be a driver waiting for her, and she had to smile when she saw the tablet with her name on it being held up. Of course a Stark Industries employee would use a tablet. The paper sign was apparently out of fashion. She smiled wider when she realized who was picking her up.

“Sally Manners?” He asked. Sally nodded.

“You’re Clint, aren’t you? It’s your car I’m here for?” Sally asked. Clint nodded.

“Yeah, I thought I could get a feel for you on the drive. See what you think and find out what you want to do to her,” he admitted.

“Sure. I have a full set of schematics on my iPad,” Sally offered.

“And iPad? Tony’ll be pissed,” Clint laughed. “Stark Tablets are standard at SI.”

“I’m on contract,” Sally shrugged. “What Stark doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Sure,” Clint laughed and led her out into the warm afternoon. Sally was half expecting him to usher her to the Challenger, which was a little concerning as the photos Pepper had provided made her think it was of questionable road-worthiness. It was with some relief that she found herself climbing into a Jeep Cherokee.

“So tell me about the car, Clint,” Sally asked once they were in traffic.

“Cherry’s great. Except when she isn’t. She needs a big chunk of work,” he began. “In my line of work, she gets beat up a lot.”

“Well, I can’t work miracles. Once I restore the car, you need to care for the car, or we’ll be back at square one again,” Sally explained.

“Yeah, I know. I’m hoping that once she’s looking good, I won’t be so tempted to take her out on jobs,” Clint shrugged.

“You want to stay with the red? I just did purple, it suits the car,” Sally offered. Clint’s face crunched up in thought. He was quiet for a few minutes, looking very thoughtful.

“I like purple a lot. But her name is Cherry.” He was thinking out loud.

“No hurry. Let me know before I send her for paint, and we’ll call it fair.” Sally made a few notes on the iPad and fell silent, waiting for more of Clint’s questions. None came. They pulled into the underground parking at Stark Tower and Clint parked in the company car corral. He grabbed her bags and led her toward the elevator.

“Do you want to see the car first, or your room?” Clint asked as the elevator doors closed.

“If you know where my room is, let’s drop my bags and then head to the garage. I want to get started on the teardown on your car today,” Sally decided. Clint smiled broadly and clapped her on the back.

“Pepper said you’re the best.” Clint punched the button and then turned to look at her, settling against the elevator wall and slouching a little. She’d read he was a master marksman, and she could see it in the way he looked at her. A thousand-yard stare that took in everything. He could probably tell her how many grey hairs were hidden in the sun-bleached streaks in her hair. She hoped he’d be discrete enough not to mention the crow’s feet. “You’re older than you look.” Or maybe he wouldn’t be.

“Uh, thanks?” Sally wasn’t sure if she should laugh or be affronted.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I meant that you look good for a woman your –“ He stumbled over his words.

“That’s probably worse, Clint,” Sally cut him off. Clint shook his hand and looked at his feet. His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck and he sighed.

“This would be the part where I tell you that I’m usually charming enough that women don’t notice these things,” Clint chuckled. Sally couldn’t help herself. She laughed. He was looking up at her through his eyelashes, like a poor wounded puppy dog. It was adorable. And kind of sexy.

“Oh my god, are you flirting with me?” Sally started laughing in earnest. Clint had the decency to blush a little.

“Maybe?” He shrugged. “I mean, I feel as though I owe you. Coming to fix my car and all. And then you get off the plane with that long-legged surfer girl look. But you know cars. Can you blame me for thinking these thoughts?” He pushed up from the elevator wall and stepped toward her. Sally held her ground, both amused and mortified. Any other guy, and she would be all over him. He was hot. His arms alone should require a permit, but then he was hot too. He had that beat-up tough guy look that she’d always been drawn to, and a look like he just didn’t really care. He was wearing a threadbare white t-shirt and faded jeans that were snug to his thighs. The tousled blond hair was what really sealed it for her. She would be all over him. If he were any other guy. But not when he was colleagues with Tony Stark. She put her hand up to stop him.

“Whoa, Tiger. I’m flattered, but –“

“Shit. Did I read you wrong? I got the impression you were single.” He didn’t quite apologize. Sally wouldn’t have respected him if he had.

“I am,” she nodded. He took a step back.

“I don’t usually get this wrong,” he mumbled.

“You aren’t wrong,” Sally admitted.

“Wrong timing then?” He asked, standing up straight again.

“Something like that?” Sally wasn’t about to whip down her jeans and show him why she was hesitant. “It’s just, I’m fixing your car, Clint. I don’t want to feel like I’m being paid in ass. Even a nice little handful like yours.”

“Maybe next time I wreck it then. I’ll seduce you so you won’t kill me when you find out I need to hire you again,” he laughed. Sally joined him. As the elevator opened, Clint suddenly stopped laughing. “Wait, you think my ass is nice?”

“Ah, Clint. I see you managed to pick up Sally,” Pepper was struggling to keep a giggle contained. Sally burst out laughing again and stepped off the elevator.

“Not quite. She shot me down,” Clint grumbled as he followed Sally, carrying her bag. Sally could hear the peals of laughter escaping Pepper as the elevator door closed.

“The garage is huge, Sally. You’ll love it. At least, I think you will. Tony has all the toys. And by toys I mean cars and the tools to work on them. And wait till you get eyes on Steve’s new Harley. It’s a fuckin’ beaut.” Clint had taken the rejection well, rolling right back into buddy mode with Sally on the elevator ride down to the garage. Sally found herself relaxing against the elevator wall with him and enjoying the chatter.

“Pepper mentioned it. She said it needs work too,” she nodded.

“Oh hell, Steve says he can manage the restoration himself, but I bet he’d secretly be relieved to have the help. You should take a peek at it. Maybe your fancy schematics app would change his mind about the solo job.” Clint had loved the app she’d used to do all the rendering on the car restoration. He kept swiping through the images and making happy noises.

“Let me get your car finished first. I have a big waitlist at home right now,” Sally laughed. Clint let them into the garage, past what appeared to be several million dollars worth of classic vehicles. Sally stopped in her tracks in front of a 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. “Jesus Christ,” she breathed. “That’s fucking unreal.”

“Tony restored that himself,” Clint offered.

“Then why the fuck did Pepper hire me?” Sally wondered out loud.

“Tony takes forever,” Clint replied. “There’s my Cherry.” He pointed a few cars down to the beat up Challenger. It was in sad shape, and Sally almost felt it didn’t deserve to share space with the Roadster. Yet, anyhow, she thought. In two weeks time though, Tony Stark would probably be begging Clint to buy it. She walked around the Dodge, tracing her hand along the contours of the hood. She peered inside and nodded to herself, making a mental checklist of parts and supplies.

“I had some stuff delivered. Any idea where it’s at?” Sally asked. Clint nodded his head toward a backlit shelving unit behind the car. There was a pile of boxes on it. Sally dug through the box, unwrapping various parts as Clint looked on. She reconciled the pick slip against the parts and let out a low curse.

“What’s wrong?” Clint was immediately beside her.

“There’s no coveralls in this box,” Sally complained. “I wasn’t about to pack the greasy coveralls from my shop, so I ordered a new pair. They aren’t here. I’ll have to call. It’s not a big deal, but it slows me down.”

“Lemme grab a pair of Tony’s for you until your arrive,” Clint headed to the lockers at the far end of the garage. Sally followed.

“Just guessing, but is this your best birthday present ever, Clint?” Sally teased. Clint stopped, his hand on a pair of grey coveralls. He turned slowly with a slight smile on his face.

“Kinda, yeah,” he admitted. “So you’ll excuse that I insist that you start working right away.” He slapped the coveralls against her chest and nodded behind him. “There’s a can around the corner where you can change.”

Sally laughed. “Get out. Just make sure I get my pizza and beer in the next couple hours.”

It stood to reason that Stark was built like a man. Sally was built like a woman. It took a bit of wriggling and jumping up and down and cursing to shimmy his coveralls over her curvy ass. She finally got them hitched up to her waist, and tried pulling the sleeves up, to discover that while the shoulders were broad, she was never going to be able to close the suit over her bust. She huffed out a sigh of disgust and dropped the top back down to her waist and tied the sleeves around her. She pulled her shirt off and tossed it beside her pants, grateful that she’d worn the ribbed white tank under her blouse.

Sally pulled her hair back into a sloppy braid and went rummaging through the wall of tools, pulling what she knew she would need to tear down the Challenger to the frame. She pulled a white paint marker out of her box of supplies and set everything down on the bench nearest the Challenger. She dropped her iPod on the bench, put her wireless headphones on and started taking the car apart labeling each part by what it was, and whether it needed replacing, repair, cleaning, machining, remachining. The music was loud and she was lost in her work, and didn’t notice time passing in the windowless, brightly lit garage. Her head bopped along to the beat of the song in her headphones. She’d decided to just recycle the same playlist as she’d used for the charity Challenger, and an AC/DC song started as she rolled herself under the car to drain the oil from the engine. She felt the vibration of someone banging on the frame of the car, but the music was so loud that she didn’t hear if anything had been said. Once she had the oil draining into a bucket, she rolled herself out from under the car. Clint pointed at the box of pizza he’d left on her bench and handed her a beer. Sally pulled off her headphones and smiled.

“Is it food time already? Thanks,” she offered, taking the bottle and clinking it against his.

“You’ve been down here for about four hours,” Clint laughed. He quirked an eyebrow at her get up. “That’s, uh, quite the look. I know we’ve settled that we’re not happening, but that’s a, well. Damn. You look hot.”

“I look like I belong in a spank bank calendar,” Sally snarked. Clint laughed even harder.

“Well, when you put it that way –“

“We only met today. There is no need for you to overshare,” Sally interrupted, joining in Clint’s laughter.

“No, I’m just saying, I never thought chick-in-too-small-coveralls would be a kink of mine, but if you change your mind, you can get JARVIS to let me know. I can be down here in a heartbeat,” Clint winked. He finished his beer and dropped the empty in the recycling. “I’ll let you have a break in peace. Tony gets pissy when people are constantly in his space. From what I’ve seen you’re a genius too.”

“What’s that mean? That I’m pissy?” Sally laughed. She liked Clint. He was easy to like. He laughed again and winked.

“Nah, more that I’ve seen your portfolio and what you can do with a car is every bit as impressive as what he does with robotics. So maybe you need privacy to work too,” Clint explained.

“Not gonna lie, I do work better alone,” Sally agreed. “But I appreciate the food, and the company on my break.”

“I’ll try not to bug you too much,” Clint promised as he headed back toward the elevator. Sally finished up her pizza and washed her hands before getting back to work. She wanted to lift the engine before she went to bed, which meant releasing all the bolts holding it. Which was how she found herself bent halfway into the engine, one foot on the bumper, oblivious to everything around her. When the playlist had ended, she knew she’d been working for a solid six hours, and it was time to break. She just needed to remove the one last bolt and she could lift the engine before making her way back to her room and taking a long hot shower.

“JARVIS, I’m pretty sure I didn’t sign a release for a music video to be shot in here, did I?” Sally overheard the words and cringed. The coveralls were backordered, but by the time the shop had finally texted her about it, it was too late to get a pair from somewhere else before closing. She would have them by morning, they’d assured her. She finally broke the bolt loose from the engine and stepped down off the car, not even acknowledging the man walking across the garage toward her.

“I’m afraid I have no record of that either, sir,” A crisp British accent came over some sort of overhead speaker. Sally sucked in her breath, determined to ignore everything she possibly could until it would be rude to not respond. She was hooking up the engine crane when she heard him.

“And yet, there is a woman in a wife beater and a pair of my,” his voice rose in question, “coveralls, taking apart Barton’s car. It can’t be real.”

“I assure you, Sir, the biometrics on the woman in question are very real,” the voice in ceiling responded. Sally glared at the speaker and began hoisting the engine out of the car. They were talking like she wasn’t even there. “I believe this is the mechanic Ms. Potts hired.”

“Of course. Thanks JARVIS,” he replied. He cleared his throat and stepped between Sally and the engine crane and the dolly she was trying to put it on.

“I’m IronMan, but I don’t mind if you scream Tony motherfucking Stark when my face is buried between your thighs.” His smirk was enough that Sally had to resist screaming and trying to drop the engine on him. She almost laughed at the thought of what that would show up as in a soulmark - “arrrrgh *splat*”? Then she realized he was staring at her, as though waiting for a response. She turned away and sighed, and in that split second decided not to say anything. He would never know she was his soulmate if she never spoke to him. Because soulmarks didn’t say things like “she’s not going to say a word, but instead will sigh and roll her eyes at you”, they say actual words.

Sally turned back and found that he’d already stepped away from the engine dolly, and was leaning against the Challenger, staring at her. For one brief, fleeting moment, she thought maybe she’d stunned him into silence, and started lowering the engine onto the dolly. And then he started talking again.

“I get it. You’re overwhelmed because you didn’t think you were actually going to meet me, and are unsure what to say. And maybe my opening line was too much? I get it; Pepper is always at me about not sexually harassing the staff. I should apologize, but honestly, this is just too perfect, and it’s like Christmas and my birthday and Clint’s special car mechanic rolled into one magic little bundle.” He spoke with his hands a little, Sally noticed. “Pep didn’t mention you were a woman. JARVIS, why didn’t Pepper say the mechanic was a girl?”

“Ms. Potts felt you would be too easily distracted, and that would prove to be an irritant for Ms. Manners,” The voice that kept coming from the ceiling responded. Clint had mentioned this JARVIS guy too, Sally realized. She was going to have to ask him or Pepper who he was. She finished securing the engine to the dolly, and tidied up her workspace, before grabbing her iPod, the remains of the pizza, and a couple more bottles of beer, and heading to the elevator.

“Pepper was not wrong,” Stark admitted, watching as Sally disappeared behind the elevator doors.

Sally didn’t realize she’d be very nearly holding her breath until the air rushed out of her lungs after the elevator doors shut.

Sally was checking email when a text notification popped up on her iPad.

“Settling in okay? Tony mentioned he met you. I feel as though I need to apologize, despite not knowing why.” Pepper was checking in.

“The car is amazing. It’s in much worse shape than I thought it was in, but I love a challenge.” Sally typed back.

“Do you need me to get anything?”

“I had to borrow coveralls today because mine are on backorder. If they don’t arrive tomorrow, I may need you to contact your supplier for me because the ones I had on today did not fit.” Sally admitted.

“Yes. JARVIS told me that Tony had been inappropriate with you. I’ve given up apologizing for his behaviour. He’s gotten reckless in the last few years. More reckless, anyhow. But JARVIS said he was a little more colourful than usual.” It was probably the longest text Pepper had sent her, and Sally almost wanted to ask her what the reason was behind the behaviour. But then she realized Pepper had mentioned that JARVIS guy twice.

“Yeah, who is JARVIS, by the way?”

“JARVIS is an artificial intelligence developed by Tony. He monitors security, takes care of Tony, passively monitors general biometric information, amongst other things. Like a super computer but with a personality.” Pepper tried to explain. Sally gave her iPad a disbelieving look and glanced up at the ceiling.

“Okay.” She couldn’t really think of what else to say.

“Ms. Manners, Ms. Potts feels you may be uncomfortable with my presence. I would like to assure you that in any private spaces in the tower, my default is set to private. I will not record or monitor anything in your personal space while you are here. There is voice activation of my protocol if you call for me only. If you have any questions, please just say my name, and my monitoring and interactive protocol will be enabled.” JARVIS’s voice came out of the ceiling.

“I have some questions. You were monitoring me today in the garage,” Sally started.

“Yes, Ms. Manners. Mr. Stark has the only privacy override for the garage, as the value of the vehicles stored in the garage demands it,” he explained.

“Fair enough,” Sally replied. “Is it rude for me to ask about you?”

“I have no qualms about your curiosity, Ms. Manners,” JARVIS sounded indifferent.

“Could you call me Sally? I would prefer Sally,” she began. “Do you have emotions?”

“I am not comfortable with the informality of using first names, as I have no first name to offer in return, Ms. Manners. As for your other question, I am not sure how emotions feel to humans, but on referring to the dictionary definition of those things, I would say that I feel some sort of echo of emotion about a number of things.” At the very least, JARVIS was thoughtful, Sally reflected.

“So do you worry? I mean, when Mr. Stark is out being IronMan?” Sally asked.

“I accompany Mr. Stark every time he is in the IronMan suit, so I don’t have the worry that is born from not knowing. I do worry about him a great deal. I worry that he is unhappy. I worry that he is lonely. But I rarely am fussed by his work as IronMan,” JARVIS admitted.

“You worry about him being lonely?” Sally was surprised. Tony Stark didn’t seem like the kind of man who got lonely.

“Men of his age, when they are still awaiting their soulmates, tend to get rather reckless. It’s not part of the natural order for someone with a soulmark to wait so long, I don’t think,” JARVIS offered. Sally almost felt guilty. And yet, it was the first time she’d ever met Tony Stark. So it’s not as though she was deliberately thwarting him for years. Just for a few hours.

Soulmates did get reckless the longer they waited. There was millions of dollars in research dedicated to understanding the impact of soulmarks on their bearers, and all of it pointed to how difficult life became the longer a person waited for their soulmate. Sally knew all about it, it was one of her pet interests. She read every new research paper as soon as they were released. Mostly because she was so determined to never be involved with someone like Tony Stark. The first time she’d had the ability to put his name into a search engine, years before Google existed, the man she saw horrified her. Reckless, arrogant, rich boy with a drinking problem. Too smart for his own good and not doing anything good with his smarts. She followed him carefully as the internet made access to information lightning fast, and by the time Google was a thing, Sally had seen some definite changes in Stark’s behaviour, but her opinion had been formed and solidified over years of net browsing. And there were still plenty of indicators that he was a hot mess.

“I feel like I’m being nosy by asking, but he does have a soulmark?” Sally had heard of people who didn’t have soulmarks. She had never met one, but she’d read about them.

“Perhaps it is too invasive a question, Ms. Manners,” JARVIS acknowledged. Sally pursed her lips, wondering what it was that she would eventually say to him. It was probably rude. She’d spent time around mechanics for over twenty years. Some things just wore off on you after a while. Her language was just as foul as anyone she’d ever worked with.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Manners.” JARVIS fell silent, and Sally assumed their conversation was over.

Sally was down in the garage by six am, finishing the teardown on the car. She’d unpacked her Bluetooth speaker and had it perched on the chassis while she pulled the rest of the engine components out. Once again, she didn’t hear anyone come in, but Clint managed to stealth up behind her and scare the crap out of her around nine am. He placed a Starbucks on the bench and dropped a package beside it before handing her a bagel

“Master marksman and courier? How do you keep the ladies away?” Sally teased. Clint rolled his eyes.

“Pepper said you needed these coveralls right away.” He looked her over and smirked. “I don’t know, I really like the pin-up look.”

“Fuck off,” Sally laughed and threw her wadded up napkin at him. “She speaks!” Stark had apparently also stealthed into the garage at some point. Sally pursed her lips and darted past Clint to the bag on the bench before Stark could get to the car.

“I’m gonna go get changed, Clint. See you later?” She didn’t even wait for a response, but briskly moved toward the bathroom in the back of the garage without even acknowledging Stark’s presence.

“What’s with her?” She overhead Stark asking Clint. “Yesterday she gave me a dirty look and walked away, and now she’s not even willing to give me a dirty look?”

“Should you remember her, maybe?” Clint drawled. Sally could imagine there was a dirty gesture that accompanied the question.

“Oh shit. Maybe. JARVIS, have I banged the mechanic?” Stark’s voice echoed through the garage, and Sally had to bite back a shout of protest.

“From what I can see of her history, Ms. Manners has never been in the same vicinity as you until yesterday, sir.” JARVIS’s voice replied.

“Are you kidding me? The snotty mechanic who won’t say a word to me is literally named Miss Manners? That’s got to be a fucking joke,” Stark exclaimed.

“Maybe she’s just not into you. She turned me down. Maybe she likes privacy. Neither of us could give that to her. Maybe she likes women.” Clint had clearly not been offended by her rejection, and sounded serene.

“Barton, women are always turning you down. It’s the bow. This just doesn’t happen to me. Maybe she is into women. One way to find out,” Stark commented.

“Nat’s gonna kill you, Tony,” Clint laughed. Sally peered around the corner to see if they were leaving her work area, and sure enough, Clint was steering Tony back to the front of the garage, chatting about something she couldn’t quite hear. She would have to thank Clint next time he popped in to check on his car. She rolled her eyes and walked back to the car, taking a pull from her coffee. The distraction of Stark and her new coveralls had allowed it to cool to a temperature she was easily able to drink. One more thing to thank Clint for. It didn’t take long for her to get lost in the music as she got back to work.

“Bacon, chicken, feta and peppers? That’s quite a pizza.” A female voice interrupted her work. Sally smirked and looked up. Sure enough, it was the stunning redhead that had testified before Congress.

“How much to you want to fuck with Tony Stark’s head?” Sally asked as she accepted the pizza box.

“I love messing with Tony,” the redhead answered.

“He thinks I turned down Clint and won’t speak to him because I am into women,” Sally began.

“Say no more. I’ll tell him you were magnificent,” she laughed. “I’m Natasha, by the way.”

“Sally. Nice to meet you,” she offered her hand and returned Natasha’s warm smile. “Your testimony after the whole SHIELD thing was compelling. It must be hard, keeping all those secrets. I only have one, and I don’t know how I’ve kept it quiet for as long as I have.”

“Part of the training, I guess. I can keep a secret. But I can’t change the oil on my car,” Natasha winked. “Must be one helluva secret.”

“I know who my soulmate is.” Sally heard herself blurt it out. “His name is in my soulmark.”

Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is a big one. I bet you’ve googled that a few times.”

“Once a week since search engines were invented,” Sally admitted.

“Is he anyone of note?” Natasha pressed. Sally nodded as she bit into a slice of pizza. “I won’t press then. If you ever need me to grab him and bring him to you just to get things over with, let me know.” Sally just laughed in response. She leaned against the car and allowed the conversation to flow as she ate. Natasha finally succumbed to curiosity and tried a slice of pizza.

“This almost qualifies as healthy, Sally,” she commented through a mouthful.

“That’s why I like it. I need quick and easy when I’m in a teardown because I like to go until I’m done. But I don’t want to sacrifice my health too much. I can convince myself this is healthy because there’s real meat on it, not just tube meat, and some veg,” Sally laughed. “I usually tack an extra mile on my run during teardowns as well. Just to cover my pizza habit.”

Natasha’s phone buzzed and she rolled her eyes. “I should probably go report on your incredible romantic prowess before he comes down here and finds up eating pizza.”

“He’ll check the footage as soon as you say it anyhow. But try to get a picture of the look on his face,” Sally smirked. Natasha nodded and headed down the garage. She stopped by the Roadster and called back.

“Is he the one?”

“Do you really think I’d tell you if he was?” Sally called back. She probably should be more surprised that Natasha had figured it out, but she wasn’t. She cleared away her lunch mess and pulled out a basin. There were a pile of parts that were in questionable shape, and Sally needed them clean before she could figure out if they were going to need to be ordered or machined, so she slopped some cleaner in the basin and dropped the parts to soak while she cleaned the engine. She was covered in grime in minutes, and grateful for the amazing bounty of the tool selection in the garage as she made a bigger and bigger mess. Her speaker cut out midway through a Journey song, so she pushed herself up from the floor to check the battery.

Stark was holding the speaker in her hand.

“This isn’t StarkTech. Neither is the iPod. All SI employees are to be provided with StarkTech,” he leveled an annoyed look at her. Sally rolled her eyes, and snatched the speaker away from him. It was going to be hard not saying anything to him, if he was going to be that annoying. She walked over to the soak basin and put the speaker down near it before getting a bottlebrush to ream out one of the parts. “After Natasha came back from lunch, I knew something was up. So I had Jarvis pull your file. You aren’t gay. You could be bi, I suppose, but there’s no record of you ever having a female lover, so I doubt it. And you have a plentiful dating history. No serious romances. I thought maybe it’s just me. Maybe you just don’t like me.”

Sally smirked and met his gaze. She had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from speaking.

“And see, that’s where this gets weird. I thought maybe you’re like me, getting reckless because you haven’t found your mate yet. But you’ve kind of always been devil may care. So then I thought that maybe you don’t have a soulmark. But JARVIS kindly pointed out this photo,” he held a picture up that showed just the last word below the hem of a skirt, and thankfully no more. “That is definitely a soulmark. So you’re kind of an enigma. Why won’t you talk to me? How can you already hate me if you don’t even know me? Don’t answer that, I blame Google entirely. I should buy Google and force it to black out any unflattering media about me. Shit. There might not be much media about me at all then. Anyhow. You’ve been here less than 24 hours and you’ve driven me to searching out your personal information, having JARVIS scan the internet for photos of you, pulling your IRS file and other degrading acts. You’re making me crazy. You won’t speak to me, and you will speak to Clint, and you will speak to Nat. I could parade every person on the team down here just to justify my paranoia, but amazingly, I really do think this is actually all about me. Which makes me think maybe you’re biting your tongue because you want me and you don’t want me to think you’re an easy mark.”

Sally was getting dizzy trying to follow him. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her water bottle, drinking deeply from it.

“If that’s what’s stopping you, sunshine, let me assure you. I won’t think any less of you for coming back to my bed with me. Or just throwing down right here. I can have JARVIS give us privacy. Or not. I’m equal opportunity. Embrace your sexuality. Enjoy your inner freak. I won’t judge. We’ve all been there. Hell, if you want a threesome, I’m down. But for god’s sake woman, just say something to me,” he blurted. Sally choked on her water, hacking and coughing and hoping it wouldn’t come out her nose.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” she coughed. Stark’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Did Pepper pay you to say that?” He breathed. Sally realized she’d spoken and dropped the water bottle.

“Oh shit,” she breathed.

“Are you fucking with me?” Stark demanded. Sally stared at him blankly, lost in the horror of what she’d done. She supposed it was stupid to assume she would be able to keep her mouth shut for two weeks, but she’d expected she would have more than twenty-four hours to get used to the idea of Tony Stark. Before she knew what was happening, Stark was pulling up his shirtsleeve. Wrapped around his bicep, in a trailing twist around his arm that was similar to the path of the words on her leg, were the words she’d just coughed, in her familiar, cramped scrawl. “Is this your writing?”

Sally couldn’t respond. She back up to the wall and slid down it to the floor, dropping her head between her knees and breathing deeply. “Oh god, oh shit.”

Tony’s arm was suddenly right in her face. “Is this your writing?” Each word was punctuated with a stop, to make him very clear. Sally closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yes.”

“The fuck? Do you know what a pain in the ass this mark has been? I was convinced that there was something deeply wrong with me that my soulmate would be a guy but I was mostly attracted to women. Why would you say something like that?” He exclaimed. Sally raised her eyebrows and made a disgusted noise.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your mark is bad? Do you recall what your first words to me were, you twat?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just pulled her coveralls off. She was wearing a comfy pair of men’s boxer briefs under the coveralls, and she pulled the leg up to reveal her soulmark. “How do you think I’ve liked having that fucking thing on my leg since I was twelve?”

Stark knelt down in front of her, looking at the mark. He slid his hand up her thigh and followed the words around with his fingers. “It’s definitely my writing. And unquestioningly something I would say. But how did you go so long without anyone ever blabbing about what was there?”

“Do you honestly think I let anyone see that? With your name branded into my skin like I’m your fucking property? I covered that shit up. I tried to have it covered with a tattoo, but I woke up the next morning and $1000 of beautiful work had fucking vanished,” Sally blurted. She was breathing heavily and Stark was still running his fingers along the words on her leg. She pulled free of his grip and adjusted her briefs before stepping back into the coveralls.

“Sir, your heart rate is dangerously elevated,” JARVIS spoke from the ceiling.

“Do you think?” Stark snapped. He rolled back on his heels and dropped to his ass, head in his hands. Sally could hear him slowly inhaling and then after a moment, forcing the air back out his lips. He flexed his fingers in his hair. Sally slid back down the wall, facing him, knees up at her chest.

“Are you okay, Stark?” He’d been doing the breathing thing for a while, and the rhythmic nature of the act was settling her own nerves. He looked up at her, his dark brown eyes meeting her blue ones and locking.

“We have a lot to talk about. But the first thing I think I’d like for you to do is start calling me Tony,” he said.

“Now why couldn’t you have said it that way in the first place?” Sally laughed despite herself.