#but its star trek's rules of magic so it gets a pass

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

We're all familiar with how most of the Star Trek shows have their dialogue in that somewhat formal stilted manner that plenty of people have poked fun at but also it kind of makes sense in an era of universal translators that people would make a habit of speaking clearly and avoiding slang/metaphors to ensure their points are well translated. I know that was never the intention (and a lot of newer trek shows go for more informal dialogue) but hm. Food for thought.

[josiadorstuff]

Hi! Greetings to the Star Trek fandom from your younger edgier cousin. Assuming you’re serious about wanting to know, welcome to the vortex of madness that is Warhammer 40K! You have been warned.

So, to fully understand this meme you’d need like a whole college course on background context, but I’ll do my best to explain.

So, first things first: there’s this place called the Warp. At its basic level, this is the other dimension that humanity and some other species use to travel faster than light between planets, like Star Trek. Unlike Star Trek, this dimension is made up of the thoughts and emotions of every sentient being in the galaxy, so it gets pretty chaotic. Sometimes these thoughts and emotions coalesce into beings called Daemons, and sometimes even full on gods. Most of them are evil, especially the Big Four Chaos Gods, but very rarely they’re not.

One species in the galaxy is the Eldar, or Aeldari, who are basically space elves. Like Vulcans, but even more elf like and egotistic. They had their own pantheon of gods formed from the values of their society. They used to be really powerful and ruled most of the galaxy, but then they partied too hard and accidentally created a Chaos god of hedonism who killed 90% of their species except for the space Amish and the lucky, and ate most of their gods. A few of the Eldar gods escaped, including the clown god (yes really) shards of the war god, and the goddess of life, Isha.

Unfortunately, Isha was snatched by Nurgle, the Chaos god of disease, rot, and general entropy. He keeps her in his basement and tries his latest diseases out on her, because she can regenerate from them. It’s not a good time. The Eldar keep trying to rescue her, but they keep dying horribly in the part of the Warp Nurgle rules.

A few tens of thousands of years pass. Humanity does some awful stuff but that’s not important. What is important is that recently, as in within the past couple thousand years, a new species called the T’au has become a player on the galactic stage. Having conquered war and scarcity on their home world, they rose to the stars to spread their ideology of the Greater Good to their neighbours through peace, diplomacy, mutual cooperation and maybe a liiiiitle but of military force. Basically, the T’au want to be in Star Trek so bad, but unfortunately they’re in Warhammer 40K. They don’t fit the aesthetic of 40K at all and that’s what makes them so great.

Despite difficulties they were not expecting, such as everyone but them being batshit insane, they managed to get some species to join them. Through only a minor amount of trickery no less! They even got some isolated human worlds to leave the Imperium of Man and join them instead. This has not made the Imperium very happy, but they already would want to kill them for being aliens anyway. Now the T’au don’t have strong connection to the Warp, if any, which is good for them because it means their souls don’t look like tasty snacks to a daemon, but it also means they can’t do space magic.

However, some of the new species embraced into the ideology of the Greater Good, especially humans, do have a connection to be Warp. This means that over time a new god has begun to form. Tau’Va, the goddess of the Greater Good. The few T’au who know of her existence don’t really know what to think, but they don’t trust it.

One of the T’au, a member of their soldier caste named Shas’la T’au Kais, was the protagonist of his very own spinoff video game, Fire Warrior from 2003. Being an FPS protagonist, he kills a whole lot of things someone like him, a bog standard grunt from a faction not known for its impressive soldiers, should have no right to be able to kill. The novelization just highlights this. He’s practically an unstoppable killing machine, and the T’au higher ups have realized this, putting him on ice until they absolutely need him again.

TLDR, this meme puts forward the hypothetical scenario of Tau’Va, the Warp god, plucking the protagonist of Fire Warrior and unleashing him on Nurgle’s Garden so she can rescue Isha to date her. It’s a play on the popular fan theory that the human demigod Leman Russ (that’s a whole other mess) will rescue Isha. I like this T’au one a lot more, because I’m tired of the Imperium always getting the spotlight.

Please let me know what you think and if you behave any questions, I put a lot of time into this.

T'au'va (Goddess of Greater Good) sends her grandest champion, T'au Kais, to help rescue Isha, in the name of Love.

For the Greater Good (and elf girlfriend).

By reddit user Marcsimo

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionWriters (Part 4)

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Famous Shakespeare Lines, February 2021:

Short Life For A Daffodil by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco have a wild daughter who likes to pull up daffodils and frustrate her parents, but the duo wouldn't be without their children.

Friends Dont by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - "You don’t choose who you fall for!” “No, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here now would I?” Hermione mourns the loss of a relationship.

The Malfoy Mistress by ThebeMoon - M, one-shot - Unable to bear the sight of Bellatrix carving into Hermione Granger at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy whisks his hated former schoolmate to safety. He should have known better.

Rules of Engagement by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Lucius just had to be difficult about the idea of Draco and Hermione getting married. Will Draco and Hermione allow him to throw his weight around, or will they bring him to heel?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Popular 90's TV Shows, March 2021:

The Death of Theo Nott by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Hermione.” Her head whipped up to see the broken expression in Draco’s eyes. “He wouldn’t kill himself.”

The Night of the Rats by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - What happens when a prank war goes too far?

Perfect Harmony by Talonwillow (TalonWillow) - T, one-shot -Professor Slughorn's star Potions pupil Hermione was tired of being the ugly duckling, so she created a potion that would transform her into a beautiful swan. Everyone seemed to like the shiny new version of her... Well, except for herself and maybe one other. Would Draco Malfoy convince her that what everyone else was seeing was what he saw every day, and would Hermione finally be able to live in Perfect Harmony?

Dramione Go Star Trekking by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Riker has made a pass at Hermione and she doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

Bloody Colonials by Maira - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger has had a long week, and the last thing she wants to do is leave the comfort of her home. But when her best friend asks for her help in dealing with a possible cursed object, what can she do but help? Brownies, Potion-making robe etiquette, and a cursed Nigerian mask all add up to a typical night at Hogwarts. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

The Latest Teenage Drama by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Teenagers. Gotta love em. Teenage dramas? Not so much. Draco and Hermione navigate the perils of unwanted teenage behaviour - 90s family sitcom style.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Around the World, April 2021:

The Assignment by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco, Aurors, have been sent to Cape Town on a top secret assignment - to track down a former Death Eater.

Finding Them by KrysKrossZee - T, WIP - After not finding her parents in Austrailia, Hermione enlists Draco's help and the two make their way to Vancouver when they have a new lead.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Language of Flowers, May 2021:

Spilled Ink by Maira - M, one-shot - It's nearly Christmas, and things aren't great. Draco Malfoy is still on house arrest due to the Wizengamot being a bag of dicks. Hermione Granger is out of the country on a job, which means he won't see her for a few weeks. And to top it all off, Hermione has sent Draco a plant. A green, spiky plant, for no reason that he can fathom. Oh, and a spelled journal that he's now supposed to write in. Because nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan. Written for the DFW Deal or No Deal Challenge!

Forever by Art3misiA - M, one-shot - Though they may be gone, our memories of them remain forever.

The Little Things by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When Hermione buys Draco a cup of coffee and leaves it on his desk, it throws Draco through a loop and he wonders what he should get her in exchange.

The Climbing Vine by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - After receiving some startling news, Draco runs out of the house. He receives some advice from a surprising source.

Changing of the Seasons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - Hermione & Draco find a local park and two unlikely faces to greet them.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Draco's Birthday Soundtrack, June 2021:

Straight to the Heart by AdAsttra - T, one-shot - Draco's ready to tell Hermione how he feels, but Cupid has other ideas.

Stick Around by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione doesn't know why Draco is the only one who makes her feel safe, but she is glad that she is able to get some reprieve from her brain.

Wild and Wired by Maira - M, one-shot - Need your lovin' here beside me, Need it close enough to guide me, I've been hopin' you would find me, You're the biggest part of me. - Hermione was expecting a fun night out with her boyfriend and her friends. She was not expecting ice cubes, sick ponies, and a serenade beautiful enough to melt her heart. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

Let's Get Serious (Please, for the Love of Merlin!) by Art3misiA - G, one-shot - Draco wants to get serious, but Hermione isn't so sure. Will their opposing views make or break them?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Magical Monsters, July 2021:

There's A Zouwu In My Basement by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When a creature has broken into the Malfoy Manor dungeon, Draco has to call for help.

Miseria by crochetaway - T, one-shot - Hermione tames a Dementor.

Aegis by Maira - M, one-shot - Their world is in ruins, and their only protection against creatures wanting to kill them is about to fall. They make a plan to trek across the country to Hogwarts, where others have gathered to make a new home within the castle. There, they will be safe. One problem - before they go, there's a queen to kill. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal Challenge.

Fear & Desire by myladymay - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy wants to change his life. He returns to Hogwarts for Eighth Year and finds himself confronted with both his biggest fear and greatest desire, all wrapped up in a Gryffindor tie.

Innocent Monsters by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - Draco Malfoy thought he had reasonable expectations for his mandatory Eighth Year at Hogwarts, where he would be confined to the grounds as part of his probation. Isolation, hatred, and passing his NEWTs were really all he had in mind. What he wasn't anticipating: 1) Having a small firstie latch onto him like a bloody koala 2) Said firstie adopting an erkling as if they didn’t feed on children. To protect his little nuisance, he’ll have to seek help from uncomfortable places, including the Swottiest Witch of Her Age. Joy of all joys.

Transformed by Art3misiA - T, one-shot - Draco and Charlie have a dragon to catch, and time is running out. Meanwhile, Hermione is missing, adding to Draco's woes.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos, August 2021:

Three's a crowd, four's trouble by AnnaRitaLi - M, WIP - p>My sister is right. My life did change that evening. I just don't think Rosalind meant for me to steal her boyfriend, or I don't think I stole him, Draco, not precisely. You cannot steal something that doesn't want to be whisked away. That's my experience, at least, and I've stolen quite a few things over the years. So I can say this with confidence. You can't lose something you never had. But you’ll have to read it in the book, dear. While the Crown doesn’t wish for me to speak out in public, I have been silent for too long. You see, There were three of us in this marriage. And people, the press, have assumed many things over the years about Draco and me. So this book, as you’ll see, it’s my attempt to set the record straight. Yes, there were three of us in this marriage, but there were also much more going on than that. -- This is the story the Crown never wanted to get out. In other words, I bring you the x-rated version of the book ‘Diana - her true story - in her own words’.’ It’s the Dramione as Charles & Diana AU you didn't know you needed.

The Marquess and the Kitchen Girl by Art3misiA - E, 8 chapters - Draco Malfoy is the son of the most powerful Duke in Wiltshire. One day, he will be the ruler of a large duchy. Hermione Granger lives happily with her parents - that is, until tragedy strikes. Two children will become friends, and gradually discover a forbidden love that seems as if it might one day defy the odds. Alas, this is a tale of doomed lovers.

In Her Arms by KrysKrossZee - M, one-shot - Draco's worked his way up through Voldemort's ranks but it would seem that all of his work has been for nothing when Dolohov captures a new prisoner.

The Happiness I Seek by Maira - M, one-shot - To those without a soulmate, the world is devoid of colour. They say that if you are lucky enough to meet your soulmate, everything changes. The world is brighter, food is richer, and you find a love you never knew you needed. Draco Malfoy has never been lucky. Written for the DFW's Deal or No Deal challenge.

darling! by itscometothis - M, one-shot - When Draco and Hermione are invited to help demonstrate a path forward for Wizarding Britain and its reconciliation, neither really feel like they can refuse - Hermione for moral reasons and Draco for practical ones (read: Azkaban sounds bad). But they have very different ideas on how to play up this fake relationship. Written for DFW's Deal or No Deal: Legendary Duos - Kermit and Ms. Piggy. It's as ridiculous as you expect.

A Thousand Ships by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to reach out and take it.

Quiet My Demons by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “Unhappy, darling?” He murmured, his cigar placed on its resting dish, dashed out - a little puff of smoke rising into the air between them before disappearing. “Yes, completely.”

I Love Draco by crochetaway - G, one-shot - A few slice of life scenes with Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius ala I Love Lucy style!

DFW's Deal or No Deal: The Final Word, September 2021:

Crime & Punishment by itscometothis - T, 12 chapters - TRIAL TRANSCRIPT OF DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY IS FORMALLY CHARGED WITH THE FOLLOWING: CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT MURDER AIDING AND ABETTING A MURDER USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: IMPERIUS (2 COUNTS) USE OF UNFORGIVABLE CURSES: CRUCIATUS (47 COUNTS) PARTICIPATING IN A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION -- I don’t regret hoping. I thought I might, at the beginning, do you remember? But I don’t. I regret nothing about you, my love. Eternally yours, Draco -- A story of hope, punishment, and the nature of justice told in trial transcripts, visits in an interrogation room, and letters.

Boats Against the Current by AlannaTCooper - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy is trying to escape his past by running as far away as he can. But the past - and his nightmares - keep pulling him backwards.

By His Side by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Hermione is lonely but there's at least one person who can break through her loneliness.

Trying To Live by IzzieStellar - T, one-shot - After her husband dies, Hermione can’t seem to remember how to live and her friends vow to help her.

In the Dead of Night by AdAsttra - G, one-shot - Hermione and Draco are some of the last people to leave Hogwarts under the veil of a cold, dark night.

This fest is ongoing.

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 13

*Familiar Characters are NOT mine! The original tale of "The Snow Queen" was written by Hans Christian Andersen! As the story is actually 7 parts, I took inspiration from one particular part and a little from the Snow Queen episodes of OUAT.*

Warnings: The Snow Queen AU, magic. I think that's it.

Pairings: Jon Snow x fem!reader

Jon stifled a laugh as Arya glared at Theon defiantly. "You're lying! The Snow Queen doesn't take naughty children! Besides, I'm too old for children's stories. There's no such thing." For years, Theon liked to tease the younger Stark children with stories of the Snow Queen to scare them. It was only a story and Theon had changed it. Still, the real story was one of Jon's favorites. He had no idea that everything he thought he knew about the story was going to change.

*time skip*

The wind howled outside and the cold seeped through the stone walls of the holdfast. Even the fire roaring in the fireplace could only shut out the chill so much. It was the worst winter storm in years. "The Snow Queen is certainly angered tonight," Jon thought to himself then laughed, "It's a story, Jon. Nothing more."

He stopped at the mirror to check his face for injuries. Robb had gotten a bit aggressive during training as he was irritated at the prospect of having to remain indoors. When Jon gazed in the mirror, his brow furrowed. The mirror was cloudy. He used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe down the glass, jumping when he saw the reflection of a woman in the mirror. Jon whipped his head around to see an empty room behind. When he turned back, the reflection was gone.

As the dark-haired young man leaned closer to the mirror, he felt a chill run up his spine. Not the chill of a man suffering in the cold, but the chill of man who was frightened of something that had not even occurred yet. Cracks began to form in the mirror and an almost ethereal voice spoke. "You will see. You will be shown the true nature of people. You will see how they truly are and how they truly fell. And then you shall come to me. You shall rule by my side forever."

The mirror suddenly shattered, sending shards of glass flying at Jon's face. Jon closed his eyes, prepared to feel the stinging cuts, but none came. When he opened his eyes, the mirror was back to normal. There were no cracks to be seen and even the cloudiness was gone. Jon was confused, but shrugged it off after a moment. He went to bed feeling as though someone was watching him.

The next morning, Jon made his way down to breakfast with his family and stopped short. When he gazed upon the faces of everyone but the youngest Starks, he recoiled in disgust. They were themselves, but their eyes were almost demonic, dark and menacing. Their mouths were twisted in feral grins, showing razor sharp teeth. The sight was horrifying. But that wasn't the worst of it.

With their mouths, the family wished him a good morning, but that wasn't all Jon heard. It was if they were speaking in his head. He could feel hatred and malice pouring from them, weighing him down until he could bear it no more. Without even attempting to eat, Jon fled back to his chambers. Every person he passed shared the same terrifying face and same oozing hatred. It was too much. As soon as he was safely in his chambers, Jon slammed the door and barred it. No one was getting to him until he was prepared to leave.

In the back of his mind, Jon remembered the eerie voice from the night before, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had to leave. Suddenly, as if summoned, the voice spoke again. "I know, young Snow. It hurts. People often hide themselves, but they cannot hide from me. I can help you. I would accept you no matter what." Jon glance over at the mirror to find the same woman staring back at him.

"Y-You're the Snow Queen. The stories said you could use mirrors." The woman chuckled lightly. "I suppose you could call me that, though I prefer Y/N. As I said, come to me, Jon and I will be there for you. Forever." Jon's brows furrowed. "Why?" You let out a sigh and explained that you, although powerful, were lonely. "You aren't afraid of snow or the power it possesses. You could easily be my king, if that is what you wish. You need only follow the brightest star and you will find me. Or remain forever plagued by the demons that pretend to love you."

Now, Jon wasn't a coward by any means, but his visions that morning had shaken him to his very core. Not to mention, his curiosity was piqued. After all why should a powerful being such as you take such an interest in him? He glanced back at your figure in the mirror. You were watching him struggle to make up his mind. After a moment, you sighed. "As I said, the choice is yours. But understand this, I cannot always control what the snow does. It is ruled by my emotions. The longer I wait for your answer, the worse the storm becomes." Before Jon could reply, you disappeared.

True to your word, the storm outside kicked up, harsh winds accompanying the bitter cold as more and more snow began to fall. If it continued too long, Jon wouldn't even be able to leave the castle if he wanted to. Still, he couldn't just up and leave. Could he? Would it even be worth it? He could die before he even walked ten miles. As if in answer to his worries, a particular hard wind blew nearly breaking the glass of his window.

"Alright. I get it. Hurry up," he muttered to himself. It really shouldn't have been such a difficult decision. He should stay with his family. Jon knew that. But at the same time, he couldn't live with seeing them like that every day for the rest of his life. And you were offering him the chance of adventure. Of being something greater than what he was. With that in mind, he glance back at the glass.

"Are you there?" Your vision appeared once more and you smiled, as if you had been just sitting around waiting. "I will find you." Your smile grew and the storm outside began to quiet down. "Then follow the star until you find my castle. It looks to be made of ice. I will look after you on your journey." Once more, Jon was left alone with his thoughts.

The young man quickly threw some things in to a pack, grabbed his sword and snuck out of the castle. The journey was long and hard as he navigated his way through the snow and ice, passed all manner of creatures and more demon-looking people. But even as he trekked through the nasty weather, Jon didn't feel cold or frightened. He knew he should be. After all, snow was beautiful, but deadly. That was its nature. Perhaps he didn't feel afraid because you were watching over him as you said you would.

Jon lost count of how many days he traveled before he finally came upon your castle. It was just as you'd said. White and shining, like ice. It wasn't until he climbing the steps that Jon felt anything even close to fear. Still he kept on. He was too close to turn back now. When he reached the doors, they opened like magic.

Jon wasn't sure how he knew where to go, but he entered the castle and made his way to where he was certain you were. The castle, despite being one of the Snow Queen, felt warm and welcoming. Jon felt at home. So much so that he simply knew just where to go. Sure enough, another set of doors opened to reveal a throne room. You were perched on a throne of what looked like ice or glass and you smiled upon seeing him enter.

He watched as you rose from your seat and made your way down to him. You stopped right in front of him and gazed into his dark eyes. "Why me?" he asked quietly and you chuckled, "Because you believed. No matter what you told others, you always believed I wasn't some story. And now, we shall rule the winter together. Welcome, Jon Snow, my new Snow King."

(a/n: Here you are! Tale 13! We've got 5 more to go!)

[letterboxd]

Bridging the Gap.

Filmmaker So Yun Um highlights ten underrated Asian American and Pacific Islander films set against the backdrop of America.

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month has many film lovers seeking to celebrate Asian American cinema. Beyond Minari, Always Be My Maybe and Crazy Rich Asians, there are dozens of films that depict the Asian American experience. In choosing to focus on ten of the lesser-seen, I contemplated the notion of what defines AAPI cinema.

For me, it goes deeper than films that have been directed by, or star, Asian American and Pacific artists. Having watched a wide selection of Asian American films, I can firmly say our cinema, no matter the genre, puts Asian Americans at the forefront on both sides of the camera. I believe the essence of Asian American cinema was born out of resourcefulness, mining themes and ideas that distinctly bridge the gap between Asian and American culture. These films tell stories that explore the vast differences between the two, and the ways in which they coexist, whether comfortably or uncomfortably.

In selecting these ten underrated AAPI films, I searched deep to find stories with uncompromising vision and character; stories about Asians that could only be told within, and against the backdrop of, America. These ten films highlight intimate, distinct and unfiltered experiences mostly unseen at our local multiplexes: family and cultural obligations, generational and cultural gaps, and raw, mostly obscured views of American life.

Chan is Missing (1982) Directed by Wayne Wang, written by Isaac Cronin and Wayne Wang

There would be no Asian American independent cinema without Wayne Wang’s Chan is Missing. Shot on black-and-white film, this striking noir follows Jo, a San Franciscan cab driver, and his nephew, Steve, as they track down the titular Chan after he disappears with their money. Wang’s unpredictable directing career spans neighborhood intrigues, rom-coms and family movies; alongside which, he has kept a strong focus on Asian American stories (he helmed the adaptation of Amy Tan’s generational bestseller, The Joy Luck Club).

In Chan is Missing, for the first time on screen, we get to finally see an “ABC” (American-Born Chinese) story from the source, with an all-access pass to the often misunderstood terrain and people of Chinatown. It’s the tightness of the plot and the authenticity of its characters that make this movie such a classic. Even after 40 years, Chan Is Missing doesn’t feel dated—its laugh-out-loud dialogue (they actually utter the word “FOB”!) and moody tone capture why Chinatown continues to be an enigma. Spoilers: Chinatown runs by its own rules.

Available on DVD via Indiepix Films.

Better Luck Tomorrow (2002) Directed by Justin Lin, written by Ernesto Foronda, Justin Lin and Fabian Marquez

Justin Lin’s directorial debut film is a visionary portrait of Asian Americans that’s still relevant two decades on. Since its release in the early aughts, there has yet to be a film that explores the nuances and complexities of the average Southern-California Asian American teen like this film does. Better Luck Tomorrow focuses on a group of Asian American overachievers who become bored with their lives and enter a world of petty crime. It’s loosely based on four Sunny Hills High School students and the real-life murder of Stuart Tay, a teenager from the OC.

With its depiction of overachieving A+ students who are also foul-mouthed, drug-taking kids, this film was the launching pad for many iconic Asian American actors today—Sung Kang from the Fast and Furious franchise, John Cho (Star Trek) and my personal favorite, Jason Tobin, star of the Warrior TV series. (It’s entertaining to see the seeds of the Fast and Furious series planted in this film in the character of Han, played by Sung Kang, before the explosion of the franchise: one of the characters mutters, “Rumors about us came and went fast and furious”—and the rest is history.)

Better Luck Tomorrow still stands as the most iconic film to capture the suburban Asian American teen existence in all its good, bad and ugly light. “I was part of a movement,” Tobin recalled in this GQ oral history of the film, “and it was a culmination of all the battles I had fought before that to get Asian faces on the big screen.”

Available to stream and rent on multiple platforms.

The Grace Lee Project (2005) Directed by Grace Lee

If you’re an Asian American who grew up in California or New York, chances are, you know at least two Grace Lees in your life. But growing up in Missouri, Korean American filmmaker Grace Lee was the only one she knew with her name. She soon discovers that with the name comes a certain stereotype, that of the “good” Asian—quiet, well-behaved and a hard worker. Lee goes on a quest to interview a wide range of women who have the same name and soon discover if this wildly common stereotype is true.

Lee’s witty, autobiographical documentary is effortlessly funny and insightful. The Grace Lee Project dives deep into identity politics to reveal that sometimes, a name is simply a name. This was the start of Grace Lee’s journey as a filmmaker and she continues to be an important voice in not just the documentary space but in narrative stories as well.

Streaming on Kanopy.

Saving Face (2004) Written and directed by Alice Wu

Alice Wu’s Saving Face is a timeless queer love story. Produced by none other than Will Smith (yes, that Will Smith), Saving Face follows a Chinese American lesbian woman and her traditional mother (played by Michelle Krusiec and Joan Chen, respectively) as both battle with their reluctance to go against cultural expectations and reveal their secret loves. It’s part family drama, part rom-com, exploring expectations specific to Asian women across generations.

While most Asian American films focus on familial obligations through the point of view of the children of immigrants, Wu’s film considers the conflicts of both daughter and mother. For Asian Americans, it’s a tale as old as time but with a twist that shows that no matter how old you get, you still have to, unfortunately, fight to be who you are. I also highly recommend Wu’s spiritual sequel, The Half of It, on Netflix.

Streaming on Amazon Prime and Tubi, and for rent on various VOD platforms.

In Between Days (‘방황의 날들’, 2007) Directed by So Yong Kim, written by Bradley Rust Gray and So Yong Kim

So Yong Kim’s debut feature, In Between Days, follows Jiseon Kim, a Korean teen immigrant, who falls in love with her best friend while navigating the challenges of living in a new country. Director Kim is a masterful storyteller and captures life as it should be seen: unfiltered and trivial at times, but using the mundane to find cinematic magic.

I like to categorize So Yong Kim’s work as a showcase of extreme intimacy. Her story features painfully delicate characters and moments so real, you’ll wonder how any of these scenes could be fiction. There’s a sense of vulnerability and loneliness that fills the air as Jiseon struggles to assimilate to a new country, replete with toxic relationships, self-sabotage and unrelenting jealousy. So Yong Kim’s work is so painfully real, it hurts to watch.

Available on Kanopy and Amazon.

Ping Pong Playa (2007) Directed by Jessica Yu, written by Jimmy Tsai and Jessica Yu

There are two things that embody countless Asian American men’s experience: their love for basketball, and their love of rap music. Ping Pong Playa covers both, and is exactly the kind of Asian American comedy I’ve been waiting for! Christopher “C-Dub” Wang (played by co-writer Jimmy Tsai) is a wannabe baller and a supreme slacker who has to step up to the plate when his family’s business and ping-pong-champion reputation is on the line. In addition to being centered around an Asian family, the core of the film rivals any other low-brow, underdog sport film.

Laugh-out-loud hilarious, this is Academy-Award-winning filmmaker Jessica Yu’s first narrative feature, following a groundbreaking career full of daring documentaries (her Oscar was for this portrait of writer Mark O’Brien, who spent much of his life in an iron lung). Seeing C-Dub as an NBA-loving slacker turned ping-pong playa felt validating; it showed that even if you’re a lazy and immature Asian, you can always find something to succeed at.

Streaming on Tubi, and for rent on Amazon and iTunes.

In Football We Trust (2015) Directed by Tony Vainuku and Erika Cohn

While Salt Lake City, Utah, is seen as predominantly a white Mormon town, it in fact has the largest population of Pacific Islanders in the US mainland, due to the strength of the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ proselytizing in the Pacific. The documentary In Football We Trust follows four Polynesian high-school students, as they chase their lifelong dream of attaining professional recruitment. Told in moments of adolescence, the film follows the greatest challenges for these four young men, as they chase their dreams while trying to grow up.

In no time, they’re faced with the harsh reality that just maybe, football isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. As much as their hefty attributes and builds serve as their greatest advantages, these boys’ cultural and familial obligations become both their greatest motivations and, possibly, their downfall. Filmed over the span of four years, first time filmmakers Tony Vainuku and Erika Cohn chronicle the NFL hopefuls as they navigate the pressure to balance dreams and family to win a golden ticket out of gang violence and poverty.

Streaming on Kanopy, and for rent on various VOD platforms.

Spa Night (2016) Written and directed by Andrew Ahn

In his directorial debut, Andrew Ahn perfectly captures a specific corner of Los Angeles’ Koreatown. Spa Night’s focus is David, a closeted Korean American teenager who takes a job at a Korean spa to help his struggling family, and then discovers an underground world of gay sex. You may recognize Joe Seo as the goofy bully in the Netflix hit show Cobra Kai, but it’s Spa Night where you can see him truly shine—he won Sundance’s US Dramatic Special Jury Award for Breakthrough Performance.

Seo delivers a powerfully restrained performance, exploring the burden of hiding your true self from your family. Spa Night is more than a coming out story, it’s also about the broken American dream that so many immigrants experience. Ahn’s direction is finely tuned, honing in on the specificity of Koreatown. It is an acutely queer story of second-gen Asian Americans, where coming out is never really about just you, but also your family.

Streaming on Kanopy, and for rent on various VOD platforms.

Punching at the Sun (2006) Directed by Tanuj Chopra, written by Tanuj Chopra and Hart Eddy

Mameet is young, angry and has always lived in the shadow of his basketball-legend brother, Sanjay. When Sanjay is suddenly killed during a robbery at the family store, Mameet spirals and takes his anger out on anyone and everyone. Coping with loss at a young age is hard enough, but Punching at the Sun mixes in the specific anxieties of being a South-Asian man amidst the backdrop of post-9/11 America. In doing so, the film addresses the difficulty of juggling teenage angst and immigrant identity—Mameet is not afforded the option to express his anger and grief.

Cathartic and emotionally validating, this is a simple yet nuanced slice-of-life story that conveys the heaviness of growing up with the weight of the world on our shoulders. In Mameet’s case, thank goodness, he ultimately shares some of that burden with his comical friends and knit-tight family.

Available to rent on Vimeo.

Meet the Patels (2014) Directed by Ravi Patel and Geeta Patel, written by Ravi Patel, Matthew Hamachek, Billy McMillin, and Geeta Patel

In the romantic documentary Meet the Patels, Ravi Patel is a dutiful first-gen son whose parents are continually nagging him to marry a nice Indian girl. With Ravi's sister Geeta Patel co-directing and co-writing, and his parents in the frame, his film (and true-life story) are indeed a family affair. What starts as his journey to find a wife to make his family happy becomes an enlightening intro to Indian culture and modern love—think dating apps, weddings and a Patel Matrimonial Convention (gotta see it to believe).

Humorous as it is outrageously charming, Meet the Patels ultimately shows the struggles and cultural expectations most immigrant offspring face, on top of the million other obstacles of trying to find your one and only true love in this mad, mad world.

Streaming on various platforms.

Related content

Ten Underrated Asian American & Pacific Islander Films, a Letterboxd list

Best Asian American Films: So Yun Um’s list

Debbie Chang’s comprehensive Asian American film canon list (also features Asian-Canadian, Asian-British and other diaspora)

Bellamy’s list of feature-length films directed by Asian Americans

Follow So on Letterboxd

[vegalocity]

Are those, tongues n the vomit of the first and last picture? Now I'm really curious of the story behind some of these drawings. Which are really good BTW, though I had trouble reading some of the dialog. - Pixel Anon

Okay so, Not tongues first off, else i would have tagged gore too. Those are actually Alien parasites, Now normally they go in and out through a person's ear (bc the books this AU is based on have a lot of Star Trek influences) but this is a different way to go about getting one of those parasites out so I figured something different might be necessary.

This is for my Animorphs AU

(Warning this goes long and is essentially spoilers for half the AU)

So for reaslies tho, those parasites are called Yeerks, they're essentially taking the place of the Lady Bone Demon as main antagonists in my Animorphs AU, the Yeerks are, as previously stated, a race of alien parasites that without a host are essentially blind slow slugs, but when given a host can crawl in, wrap themselves around the brainstem and take over a person's body (Prisoner in their own mind style so the person in question is almost always fully cognizant as they're being possessed)

The Yeerks when they invade, consider humans a very high priority possession race, but demons too good at what they do to not pass up. Humans are sturdy, apex predators in their own right, but demons... oh demons can tap into a very specific energy force, this 'magic' as they so call it. And the Yeerks want access to that. if they take over humans they can win the war on sheer numbers alone, but if they get enough demons to harness magic against their foes, ohhh this would all be SO much easier. (only one Yeerk insofar has been able to shoot even higher and attain a non-demon immortal, but nobody else has been able to manage it) The Yeerk can stay in a person's head for about three days before it begins to starve and needs to return to its (current) natural habitat, a pool of other yeerks drenched radiation once specific to their home planet (but they have artifical generators now)

So instead of digging up LBD's grave they instead dig up a high ranking Yeerk's ship underground (Visser 3) and the rough events of Season one happen about the same, but instead of those cannisters on DBK keeping him under LBD's influence, he was straight up possessed, but after the events of the s1 finale the Demon Bull Family took off for home, and the parasite in his head slowly starved to death bc it couldn't make its way back to the city or to any backup to infest Red Son and Iron Fan in time.

And then Visser 3 figures it was a waste of a good solider and a better host and allies with Spider Queen,the deal being to lend them alien tech for Syntax to look at while they get research on magic (essentially promising Spider Queen full rule of the Earth and amnesty with the Yeerk empire so long as they're allowed to take whatever humans they want for their war) all culimating in possessing the entire clan.

The thing about that though, is that they underestimated the true potency of spider venom, and the fact that Syntax, as a former human-turned Spider Demon, is essentially in a constant state of being poisoned by said Spider venom over and over. Which turns out to be incredibly hostile a brain chemical setup for a Yeerk to live in. the Yeerk in his head lasts about a few hours before it essentially makes itself sick enough for Syntax to hack it up along with half the contents of his stomach....He's got three days to figure out what to do about this before his cover is blown.

Meanwhile on Team Hero, MK and Co have been made aware of the alien threat long in advance (Made a VERY surreal experience for SWK to encounter a fucking alien in Spider Queen's mech at New years very different SWK subplot going on rn) and actually have a soldier from the other side of the war on their side (that alien guy with the eyestalks i've been doodling, Aximili) and then one day, while everyone was alone in the shop, Aximili shifts back into his Andelite form as to not get stuck in his human form (long story, but the short of it is Andelite shapeshifting has a time limit, you've got two hours before you're stuck in a form forever) and notices Pigsy have a sort of... visceral reaction, very thinly contained disgust, a twitch toward a hip as though there were a concealed weapon there.

A few hours later Syntax, still an assumed trusted yeerk scientist but on his last day to do anything about that, is sent in to checkup on their first Animal demon host, and immediately recognizes him as one of the Monkey Boy's group.

And suddenly he has an opportunity to DO something with the chance he's been given.

[microcos-pod]

Micro-Cosmos S1E7 Transcript: Miraculously Misplaced

(“Hello world. This is Chronicling Log One, of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion.” CONTENT WARNINGS: yelling, peril, brief claustrophobia, mentions of unreality, paranoia, and the fear of going insane.  Transcript begins below break.)

[THEME MUSIC PLAYS]

ANNOUNCER Futuristic Trail Mix Productions presents Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

[THEME MUSIC FADES OUT]

*** [sfx: external storm ambiance echoing through the cave, button press]

FELIX Um... hello world. This...This is Chronicling Log One, of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. I am the science officer on duty with Omnitarian Establishment Crew, erm... zero three... no, we're um...

Zero-one-three-seven-F. Yes. It says so right here.

You'll have to forgive me. Ordinarily, when I make these recordings, they're for my own notes, or for my scientific peers. I am not used to simply... documenting the goings-on, especially... my goings-on... when confined to a cave.

According to Athena, this is for a chronicling protocol called a Code Drag. It refers to, if memory serves, a distress situation without a contingency that, at present, makes mission objectives impossible to complete. That is to say, we have been "dragged" off course. There is no contingency plan for a cinderburst. Cal says they're too rare to even warrant such a thing, nor is there enough research to determine how one could occur here. If these storms supposed to be characteristic of desert terrain, however, I would say Ophiuchus is hardly a suitable candidate. Not that I can research such a claim when I have no signal to reach any external databases that could be of help. No, that would be too easy.

Instead of that, what I do is I sit inside of a cave, talking to myself, and try to avoid going... slightly mad. If I wasn't there already, of course. I wonder how Athena manages it.

For the sake of my friend, however, I am sucking it up and beginning with these entries. I've been procrastinating for long enough, so, I will see to it that I make this log faithful to its purpose, and as honest as I can manage. I'll start with a caution, though. This cave is dull, even considering what you would expect from a cave, namely: not much. For that reason, I'm afraid I cannot guarantee you anything riveting, my dear listener. Consider yourself to be warned.

So, I hear you ask me: What have I, Doctor Felix Couvillion, been up to, now that myself and my friends have spent about... oh, a day and a half inside a damp, cavernous lair of darkness? You ask me, 'Felix, what are the Tales from the Tunnels? The Stories from the Stones? The Accounts of'... a, a, um... a cave. The cave, which I'm sure I will have memorised every vein of by the time daylight decides to reappear.

In short, I've been working. Making note of the vegetation in here, and how it might help us. I've found a new variant of fruit-bearing vine, actually. Edible. Similar to a terran gooseberry. It will make for a decent snack, once my trail mix finally runs out. A sad day, that will be. Somehow I don't find this discovery as exciting as I should. The Commander, she tries hard to keep our morale afloat, but... you know. It hasn't been long, and somehow, I already feel as though we are... contained. Stuck in some version of a time capsule, and... preserved until the next moment we are meant for is to resume.

[Felix sighs.]

FELIX (CONT'D) There's no wildlife in here, as of yet. No water either. That makes sense, on paper. The fact of the matter is that carbon-based animal life needs water. Including us. In a worst case scenario, our current water supply wouldn't last us. So, I either solve this problem, or we all slowly die of dehydration, sucking the juice out of vine berries as a last ditch attempt to survive. Yeesh. Not a pretty picture, hm?

Which is why I will make my third trek to scout a potable water source this afternoon. If I'm able to find room in my busy schedule Oh! In between my rounds, though, I have found something to pass the time-He stops again. This is... what a chronicling log is for, yes? Cataloguing however our time is spent inside an unavoidable disaster?

Sure it is. Anyways. I have... wait for it... I have rediscovered my love for card tricks! And I can still manage to do them, too. It's like it never left me, in a way. Like riding a bike for the mind. Or, as Morgan once put it, riding a bike for nerds. Here, I'll show you. ...You can’t see me. Dammit. Well, let's try it like this, then. Were you here, dear listener, you would shuffle the deck. You would pick a card, only in your mind. And then, you'd give the deck back to me, and after a series of convoluted detours through what seems like a magical process, the card would end up in your pocket, a place it certainly shouldn't be. Ta da! Okay, okay, a magician shouldn't reveal his tricks, I know. But I can't contain myself, so I'll give you a tidbit. I forced a card on you, at the start. You thought it was your choice. It wasn't. It was, likely, the Ace of Dishes. Good card. I'm fond of it. It's an interesting thing, that trick. According to the logical part of your brain, the card should be in the deck, with the rest of its friends. It’s family, if you will. Your eyes told you it should be there, and so of course, you're expecting it to be there. Or were you? That card, from the second you or I chose it, when you saw it, and we convinced each other that it was special, or different, the, hm... well, the zeitgeist of the situation told you that by the end of the trick... that card wasn't going to be in it's rightful place. It wasn't going to be like all the others. It was going to be... miraculously misplaced. In reality, the misdirection relies on both expectations. It needs the voice of reason, and the voice of the little child inside your brain that really really really wants magic to be real, just so it can stir a whit of joy. In my experience, though, most things in life that are misplaced from where they belong, it's... not a good situation. Take our example. One looks down at the flowers for a moment, giving the storm just enough time to sneak up and tap him on the shoulder, and... Abracadabra. Misdirected... misplaced from mission objectives. This kind of thing... does not bring much joy, does it? That's my insight, anyways. And that's about as much as I can fill a Chronicling Log with, for now. I'm going to check up with the others. Um, Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion, ending Log One.

[sfx: button click]

***

ATHENA ... That's a dog?

MILES Yeah. It's supposed to be! Like... bark?

ALEX Sorry, I... honestly thought it was supposed to be a sock puppet.

MILES Sock puppets don't have ears!

ATHENA ...An ear?

ALEX That's an ear?

ATHENA I mean I figured it was an animal of some kind, but-

MILES I never claimed to be good at shadow puppets, okay?

C41 Clearly.

MILES Cal, you don't have tangible hands, you don't get an opinion.

C41 At least I know that dogs aren't that long.

[sfx: approaching footsteps]

ALEX Yeah, actually, kinda... looks like that little cat thing that bit Felix.

FELIX It was a spray, not a bite. That makes it sound a lot more gross, actually.

[Alex claps her hands.]

ALEX Nice to see the party's finally here!

FELIX Hm? "Party"? That's new.

ALEX Did you bring the deck of cards?

FELIX Of course.

ALEX Then you're the party.

[Felix laughs.]

ALEX (CONT'D) Where've you been?

FELIX Recording my first chronicling log. I figured an update on my perspective was in order.

ATHENA Oh, good, thank you. How'd it go?

FELIX Um... well, I think. A bit meandering, maybe. Not anything special.

ATHENA Honestly, however they end up going is fine. It's just a matter of getting an account from everyone of how they're doing and what's going on. That's all I really have to do, most of the time. You'd be surprised how useful a ramble is when you have it on file. What did you meander about?

FELIX Oh just... you know. Something that I've been brushing up on. Here, I'll show you, actually.

MILES Sure, just share your talents with the class I guess.

C41 This should be interesting.

[sfx: unboxing and shuffling playing cards]

MILES What is this?

FELIX It's a card trick.

MILES A card trick...

FELIX Correct. Can I have a volunteer?

[Athena, Alex and C41 respond positively.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Miles, thank you, so kind of you to volunteer.

MILES My hand was not up.

FELIX Here, shuffle these.

MILES Ugh. Fine.

[sfx: cards shuffling]

FELIX No, don't give them to me! That's against the rules.

MILES Oookay. I'll keep em.

FELIX You're thinking of a particular one, I can tell.

MILES Uh... sure. Six of stars?

FELIX No, no, that's not it. Come on, this one only works if we convince each other that it's going to work. It was a low card, something... special.

MILES Low, and... special? Like an Ace?

FELIX It was an Ace?

MILES Yeah. Yeah, an Ace.

FELIX But not the Ace of Stars? We've got Planets, Comets, Dishes and Stars, but... How about you pick two of those, Officer Abbott?

MILES Dishes and Stars.

FELIX We'll keep the Dishes and the Stars then, and get rid of the other two. But it wasn't Stars, so the Ace of Dishes, then?

MILES Yeah.

FELIX The Ace of Dishes was the first card that came to mind, you're sure?

MILES Yeah.

FELIX Perfect. Athena, could you pick a number for me? It could be anywhere between, er... one to ten.

ATHENA Seven.

FELIX Seven. Very well. Miles, can I have the deck back?

MILES Oh, that's allowed now?

FELIX Of course, don't be silly. Now, I'm going to pull seven cards off the top of this deck that Miles shuffled and, well... we'll see what happens.

[sfx: cards being drawn from the deck]

FELIX (CONT'D) One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Oh... dear, that's not it.

MILES Jack of Comets. Figured it wouldn't-

FELIX Indeed. Wait, Miles, what's that?

MILES What's what?

FELIX In your shirt pocket.

[sfx: an emphatic rustling and card flip.

FELIX This?

MILES The... Ace... of Dishes. Wait.

[Athena applauds.]

[Alex laughs.]

ALEX Hey now, how the hell did you do that?

FELIX Ah, ah. Magicians. Secrets. You know the rules.

ALEX I bet Cal knows.

C41 I have... an idea or two, but I'm not exactly sure, really. Nice job.

FELIX Thank you.

MILES I don't know how you did that. I am going to find out how you did that.

[sfx: lots of movement]

[Indistuguishable frenzied comments from the crew.]

***

[sfx: echoing footsteps, very distant external storm ambiance.]

[sfx: button click.]

FELIX Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. Recording Chronicling Log... Two, I suppose. Though it hasn't been long.

I had to escape from Miles's endless, somewhat terrifying questions. I fear those will be a common occurrence from this point on.

Anywho. I am currently... well, I don't know exactly where I am. My analog compass says I am southeast of our campsite, which is just outside the entrance to the tunnel system. But, I'm not so sure. You would think this little gadget would be unaffected by the storm, but the cinderbust seems to be acting on all of our other equipment as if it were somehow a geomagnetic storm. This, of course, may mean it is confusing the compass needle as well. 

So I'm not sure I can trust in that bearing. What I do know is, I took a left. So at least I have that to go on.

I did promise the Commander that I wouldn't stray too far from the camp when I'm alone. But I'm not alone. I'm on the hunt for a source of water, and I'm taking you, whoever will listen to this, with me for the journey. So technically, I'm keeping my promise, while getting results. Hopefully. Hopefully getting results. It isn't like I have any real reason to be concerned about my safety. Like I had mentioned, there have been no encounters with wildlife as of yet. Then again, I've been wrong before. It would be just my luck to end up being wrong again. But, I survived Mercutio, ergo, I could likely survive anything. The little devil.

[sfx: flashlight clicks on]

FELIX (CONT'D) Let there be light.

Ah. It appears we've reached a choice to make. Hm. Left... or... right. I'd rather not go in a circle. Right it is.

Left, then right. Left, then right. Left then... right. Okay.

So, anyways. I hadn't had any previous luck taking a right initially, where I first chose to go left. My left. Not... upon return- never mind. I know what I mean. I hadn't gone too far that way, in any case. 

Only today did I figure out the loophole in my promise, and... in terms of balancing my very busy schedule, I figure that it's best not to spend all my time fretting over dehydration. Going prematurely mad is not in my plans.

There are some interesting mineral formations on the ceiling. It may be worth taking a sample to submit on my way back. They're a sort of bluish-white, and they seem to form in hexagonal clusters, about three to four centimetres in length. Quite pretty. Pretty enough to understand the appeal of geology, if only for a moment. No offence to geologists, of course.

No luminescence is visible from the formations. My torch is the only current source of light. I suppose luminescence would have been too much to hope for. It is... rather dark, this way. Miles wouldn't like it. I don't think Miles likes many things, come to think of it. There's a grumpy individual if you ever did see one. But, a decent traveling companion when the mood strikes them-

[sfx: walking stops]

FELIX (CONT'D) Dead end. Hm. I'll make a mental note.

[sfx: footsteps resume]

FELIX (CONT'D) That's annoying. Back the way we came, then.

It might have done me good to bring Cal along. Most of their functions may be, er, rusty, at present, but they still have the sensors for these sort of things. Or perhaps I should have brought the Commander. Navigations, and all. Eh. I'm still not too far. And I have you, don't I, my trusty comms friend?

Even if you're not one for conversation. The brooding type. Strong and silent. I can work with that. And I can be fairly sure that I'm-

[sfx: footsteps stop suddenly]

FELIX (CONT'D) What?

[A long silence.]

[Felix swallows and chuckles nervously.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well. I... must not have been paying attention as well as I'd thought.

I've just... I've just come up against another dead end. Where I thought... no, where the entrance to this passage should be. Where... where it just... was.

It can't have just... filled behind me. I would have heard the crash.

Right?

Same tunnel. Same... crystals. Perhaps a bit more on the indigo side that I had originally noticed. No more, or, um, less lacking luminescence.

Alright, er... Perhaps I took a turn and passed it. I'll retrace... my steps. What you're looking for is always in the last place you check, right?

[sfx: footsteps]

[Felix breathes shakily.]

[sfx: sound of distant running water fades in]

FELIX (CONT'D) Do you... do you hear that? That sounds like...

[sfx: the water sound recedes, replaced by storm ambiance]

FELIX (CONT'D) Sounds like... wishful thinking.

No, I could've sworn. I could have sworn. I'm not mad. I'm not.

FELIX (CONT'D) Don't you look at me like that. You're a bundle of wires and metal. You're not capable of going mad, only getting broken.

I... I wonder which is worse.

[sfx: a draft blowing in from the right side]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well. I... hadn't noticed that before. There's an offshoot path here, in between... I suppose in between dead ends. It must... it would have to lead deeper into the cave. I can't... This doesn't make any sense.

[Felix struggles to look inside the narrow path.]

FELIX (CONT'D) I can't make out anything inside. Very dark, but... But there's a draft. Meaning... it must lead outside. No daylight, however.

Well, of course there's no daylight, Felix. Remember why you're here in the first place.

[sfx: the draft stops unnaturally abruptly]

FELIX (CONT'D) Well, that doesn't make any sense, now does it?

The wind from the passage seems to have... turned off. Just... just like that.

I should just go back the way I came. Yes. That's what I should do.

[sfx: the sound of running water resumes]

FELIX (CONT'D) Wait... is... am I hearing that right...?

Not right now, thank you. I could do without the difficult decision.

Fine. Fine! Fine then, I'll just...

[He struggles further to get inside the path, with a few laboured mutterings.]

[Felix pants.]

[sfx: water droplets hitting the ground.]

FELIX (CONT'D) Yahtzee.

[sfx; unscrewing a thermos, letting water drip inside]

FELIX (CONT'D) I'll have to ensure this is potable, first. Or if I can make it potable. I'm sure it will be fine... Either way this is a good sign for our continued survival.

[sfx: extremely loud shifting of rock]

FELIX (CONT'D) What in the... What was that?

I've got enough of this to test but... The only problem is, I don't know that I could find it again. I... almost certainly don't know where I am.

[sfx: another creaking shift of rock]

[Felix gasps and exclaims.]

FELIX (CONT'D) What... I'm sorry, I just... felt a shift there, it startled me.

There's obviously an explanation for this but... I don't think I'm in any state to continue this trip. I need... I need to get back to camp.

[sfx: footsteps resume]

FELIX (CONT'D) Next time, if I ever come back this way, I'm bringing someone with me.

[sfx: running water fades out]

FELIX (CONT'D) Wait, uh... where... but I had just looked through...

I can't see that passage anymore. Where I got the water. Can you?

Of course you can't. I'm talking to myself. I bet no one will ever even listen to these. It isn't as if you care. You let this happen in the first place, sent us somewhere new without contingencies, and I'll bet you still don't feel responsible.

It's there. You can't see it from this angle, but it's there, you just can't see it in the dark.

[sfx: extremely loud stone creaking and moving]

FELIX (CONT'D) I need to go. I need to... I need to leave.

[sfx: running footsteps]

[Felix pants.]

[sfx: footsteps slow and stop]

FELIX (CONT'D) Left or... right? I swear, this doesn't... what was that goddamn sound?!

No. No, you shouldn't hear this. Am I transmitting, or... is this a recording-

[sfx: comms click]

***

[sfx: comms click]

ATHENA -were just looking for you.

FELIX I know, I know, I lost track of time-

ATHENA Alex was worried sick, we thought we heard you yell-

FELIX Well, that's very kind of her, but I-

ATHENA Felix... are you okay? Did something-

FELIX I'm fine.

ATHENA Okay.

Next time, maybe, take one of us with you. Or at least tell us when you'll be back.

FELIX Sure, sure. In any case, it was a success.

[sfx: unscrewing a thermos]

FELIX (CONT'D) Water. Fresh. Hopefully potable.

ATHENA That's great! That's a relief. Okay. Where did you find it?

FELIX Oh. Heh. Funny you should ask, actually.

ATHENA Oh?

FELIX Yes, I... see I was fine, but along the way I got a little... lost, it wasn't anything to be concerned about, but... I may have a little trouble finding it again.

ATHENA Oh.

FELIX Ah, but, don't worry.

I kept the recorder running.

ATHENA Uh... well, that's good. It definitely makes my job a lot easier.

FELIX Well, yes, and I... wasn't alone.

ATHENA Right.

FELIX And! And, perhaps if I give this a listen, it would help me figure where I got turned around. Nothing a second journey won't fix.

ATHENA Not alone this time.

FELIX Not alone the first time because I personified my comms but... yes I see your point.

ATHENA Well, let's give it a listen, then.

FELIX Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

[sfx: button pressing]

FELIX (CONT'D) It should be my most recent... input, let's see here. Ah. There.

[sfx: button press]

RECORDING FELIX Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion. Recording Chronicling Log... Two, I suppose. Though it hasn't been long.

[sfx: a sudden click, lasting static]

ATHENA Um, Felix?

FELIX ...Yes?

ATHENA Was that the end of the recording?

FELIX No. Definitely not.

ATHENA Then why... did you stop talking?

FELIX I didn't stop talking, I kept it running the whole time, I only turned it off just before I saw you!

ATHENA Something must have happened, then. Can I see it?

FELIX Sure, sure.

ATHENA It doesn't look like a corrupted file, in fact, everything seems to be working fine. Out here, at least.

Maybe the storm messed with your comms too, somehow. Or maybe... maybe there's some good conductors in the stone too, deeper in the cave, that could have thrown off your signal, or...

FELIX Or it could have been my own fault.

ATHENA It happens to the best of us, Felix.

FELIX Well, finding that source again just got infinitely harder, didn't it?

ATHENA Maybe? I don't know. Either way, we have time before that search becomes urgent, and, at least we know it exists. Hopefully we never really have to worry about it at all.

FELIX That doesn't make it any less frustrating, though, does it?

ATHENA Well, technology is wonderful, when it works. I appreciate the fact that you were recording anything for me at all, I know that code protocol can be a pain.

FELIX Well, strange as it sounds, I'm glad these protocols exist. It makes it seem like an effort is being made to keep things sorted, I suppose.

ATHENA Keeping our ducks in a row?

FELIX Precisely.

ATHENA Well, I can only hope. I've never had to run a crew-wide chronicling operation before outside of a drill. I was hoping I would never have to.

FELIX One narrator of this comedy of errors should have been enough?

ATHENA Precisely.

Anyways, do you want to head back to camp now? Everyone will want to know you're alright.

FELIX They were really worried?

ATHENA Of course they were. Alex wants her ducks in a row, too. An odd one out wouldn't be good for us.

FELIX Like an Ace of Dishes.

ATHENA Only, we were pretty sure you weren't in Miles's pocket.

[Both laugh.]

ATHENA (CONT'D) Here.

[sfx: footsteps]

ATHENA (CONT'D) This way.

***

FELIX Chronicling Log of Doctor Felix Augustine Couvillion, third part.

It's past evening now, into the night. I think the others have gone to bed. Yet, it appears that I can't sleep. Something about today unnerved me. There is no explanation for my confusion, except my own anxieties, my paranoia, what have you. I know that.

I know that in the same way I know that the walls of a cave don't move around you. Not unless you are very patient, dead, or mad.

In my case, the jury is still out on the latter.

A planet isn't conscious, it isn't sentient, it shouldn't know who I am.

And yet, there's nothing left of that recording to even tell you what I mean. All that's left is how I remember it, and that perturbs me.

Here's the thing: I can tell myself that I lost my way in a dead end simply because I am afraid of what happens when I turn my back. But if I deem that fear a sound rationalization... then I may have something to evaluate. A time of soul-searching, hopefully. In the company of a snack.

ALEX Yikes. Deep. Make sure you have your coffee first.

FELIX Commander! Where did- I'm sorry, I thought you were asleep with the others, did I wake you-

[Alex laughs quietly.]

ALEX Shh, shhh! Athena and Miles are still asleep, I was just... I was... never mind.

[sfx: Alex sits down.]

ALEX (CONT'D) You recording?

FELIX Er, yes. As redundant as it may seem. 

ALEX Redundant?

FELIX Yes. Just between you and me, boss? I doubt anyone will ever listen to these.

ALEX You really think so?

FELIX The good folks back at headquarters tend to overindulge on bureaucracy. Efficiency is prioritised to the detriment of efficiency.

Perhaps the duty will be passed on to an Artificial Intelligence like our friend. I suppose that works just as well.

ALEX There's the silver lining I was waiting for.

FELIX Oh, don't rely on me for that.

ALEX Why not? It's worked so far.

Case and point: that card trick was probably the silver lining of my day. And I still have no idea how you did it.

FELIX Really?

ALEX Really. No clue. Unless Miles was in on it, but I seriously doubt that.

FELIX I can show you.

ALEX Yeah?

[sfx: rustling through a bag, cards rustling, flipping and shuffling]

FELIX Certainly.

Now, the first thing is, Miles didn't pick the Ace of Dishes. I did. And then I convinced them that they did. And convincing Miles Abbott of something is probably the hardest part of any trick, so if you can manage that... this next part is quite easy.

ALEX The next part is the actual trick, you mean.

FELIX The convincing is the trick. If you can't even convince yourself that you can do it, make a card do something miraculous, how are you going to convince the people watching?

ALEX Good point. Teach me.

FELIX Very well. So it looks like this, when we actually do it. Pulling it out of a pocket.

[sfx: card flick]

FELIX (CONT’D) But really, we're just folding the card behind quickly as you flick it off the bottom of the pack, like that, and then... you cup it into your palm when you reach out. It never leaves your hand.

[sfx: the same card flick, but slower]

[sfx: a card sliding]

ALEX Oh. Ohhhhh, okay! Gimme one.

[Felix laughs.]

[sfx: passing Alex a card.]

FELIX Give it a try.

ALEX Okay... so... take it from the bottom of the... deck, and then-

[sfx: a similar card flick, a similar card slide]

ALEX (CONT’D) Like that?

FELIX Yes. Exactly.

ALEX Alright. Alright, okay. So... from here...

[sfx: a quick card flick, a quick card slide]

ALEX Like that?

FELIX Ha! You picked that up quickly, sir.

[sfx: repeated flick and slide of the card performed by Alex]

ALEX I can do more than play Go Fish, Couvillion.

FELIX That's for certain. It's double trouble for the rest of the crew, in any case. Two magicians are better than one, you know.

[sfx: card sounds stop]

ALEX Oh, man. Miles is going to hate this.

***

ANNOUNCER Micro-Cosmos: A Science Fiction Podcast.

This episode, Miraculously Misplaced, was written by Lauren Tucker, edited by Luka Miller, and directed by Jesse Smith and Lauren Tucker. It starred Jesse Smith as the voice of Athena Romero, Jackson Rossman as the voice of Miles Abbott, Luka Miller as the voice of Alex de la Cruz, Kaleb Piper as the voice of Felix Couvillion, and Pippa van Beek-Paterson as the voice of Cal. Original music by Julia Barnes, and sound editing by Tobias Friedman. Be sure to stay tuned to our feed for upcoming episodes from the new backpacking intergalactic adventure from Futuristic Trail Mix Productions. Enjoying the show, and want to give us a boost? You can support us by rating and reviewing us on iTunes, or wherever you get your podcasts, or telling a friend about us. To follow the show and find transcripts, you can find us on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram as @MicroCosPod. Questions, comments, and concerns can be emailed to us via futuretrailmixpros@gmail.com. Thank you for listening. ***

[wanderingworldwarrior]

Of Twisted Emotions - Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Mountain’s Peak

The trek with Loki is long and arduous. It’s filled with pitfalls, icy slopes, and avalanches of blue. It’s a tricky climb, which you had both anticipated.

Some conversations send each of you plummeting towards the mountain’s base. Sometimes one of you pushes the other down, unintentionally or otherwise. They are unavoidable – these accusations and careless words. There’s an undercurrent of pain that will forever flow through both of your lives.

The slate isn’t clean. It never can be.

But you climb, inevitably helping one another over each treacherous danger, intent on moving towards normal, towards familiar. Building on what is left.

You start with periodic conversations. And when things don’t hurt as much – when staying in touch begins to feel natural – you find that the prince’s voice fills your head every day.

And while it isn’t always easy, it is at least easier.

- - - 

You catch wind of the plans for Thor’s coronation from the other soldiers in the camp, although you do not dare to hope. You’re hesitant to bring it up with Loki, but the topic is inevitable. A lot rides on this event for the both of you.

I wonder if Thor’s advisors will convince him to keep me imprisoned, Loki ponders one night. Even he can’t deny the danger I pose after… everything.

You roll onto your back and stare up at the star-dotted sky. One of Asgard’s moons is full, and the light doesn’t lend itself to sleep. But Loki is always ready to talk. What else is he to do?

And everyone knows he loves to talk.

I think it’d take a lot of convincing, you reply. Thor’s been trying to get Odin to let him talk to you. I figure he’ll take the throne and then come knocking. You purse your lips and then ask, Can someone knock on the cell barrier? Or would it zap them, or something?

You can’t hear Loki sigh, but you know he does. Insufferable, he says at last. I sit here fretting over my freedom, and you have nothing to offer but unimportant musings.

You grin at the stars, although you have to admit he has a point. Yeah, yeah, sorry. Look, I know you have your doubts, but I… I don’t know, I think it’ll be okay.

You don’t give voice to the fact that this foolish hope is all the two of you have left.

And perhaps such a thing is not so foolish after all. Because things do indeed change under Thor Odinson’s rule. They change swiftly.

The very evening Thor becomes king, Loki is moved from the dungeons to his old rooms. Although still confined to his quarters, it is a vast improvement, for which he’s grateful.

Loki runs his fingers across one of his bookshelves, tracing each novel’s familiar spine, and shakes his head at the notion. Grateful to his brother, the king…. These are strange times indeed.

 It is the day after Thor is crowned that a blue raven flies into your camp with a royal scroll in its beak. It searches for your unit’s leader, and when its message is delivered, the bird fades into the dark blue magic it was birthed from.

Then, at last, Destin hands you the scroll, its wax seal unbroken. Your pardon from Thor, King of Asgard.

It doesn’t truly set in at first. You reach the end of the message and realize your chest hurts. Every bit of emotion you’ve been carrying has decided to ball up right behind your rib cage.

You read it again. And again. And once more, so that you’re certain you’ll never forget the words. It’s in the middle of your last readthrough that you realize there’s tears in your eyes. Your hands shake, making the words harder to follow. Asgardian speech is full of long sentences with flowery language, but you know exactly what these paragraphs mean.

You’re going home.

- - -

As you enter the city, you pass a troop of soldiers heading out. You spot familiar faces, although none you wish to speak with. You return your attention to the gate, but have yet to walk through when you hear your name from a familiar and welcome voice.

“Bjorn!” You can hardly believe your eyes, and you move to meet him halfway when he breaks from the group.

“Warrior!” he greets you, his tone as warm as his smile. You briefly clasp forearms and grin at one another as he states, “Oh, it is good to see you alive and well! You know how rumors spread.”

“Boy, do I,” you say with a grimace. “Although, I guess a lot of it may not be rumors this time.”

“Unfortunately, our paths haven’t crossed at a time for conversation,” Bjorn says, sounding a bit miffed at the situation. He pauses and covers a cough with his arm, then frowns as he says, “We march to quell a small rebellion in the west.”

“We should talk when you get back,” you tell him. “I know you had a lot go on while I was away. And… well… there’s a lot from my end, too. If you want the whole story.”

“I very much want the whole story,” Bjorn states. He glances towards the tail end of his troop, which is slowly growing further and further away. He rests his hand on his sword hilt as he turns back to you. “Warrior. I want to apologize.”

The kiss.

“No need,” you tell him, not unkindly.

People act on impulses, especially under tense and urgent circumstances. You know this more than most.

The kiss was a frantic “what if”. What if you wanted to start over? What if you could let go? What if it was something more than friendship?

But it wasn’t. It isn’t. You both know this.

Bjorn acknowledges these unsaid things with a nod. “I hold you in high esteem, my friend. You’ve fought by my side. Saved my life. I do not care what Asgard whispers.”

You hold Bjorn’s gaze, and at long last, truly match his smile.

- - -

None care to visit Loki, save for Thor and Frigga. Occasionally Odin.

And now you.

The first time you’re allowed to see him, you feel snakes writhe in your stomach. Even the sight of his door is overwhelming.

Thor had instructed the guards to let you speak to Loki alone, and although they aren’t pleased, they do allow you to step over the threshold without them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat when you see him.

Loki stands across the sitting room, clothed in royal garb once more, which further pushes the feeling of familiarity. Your footsteps die six feet away as you search his gaze.

Gone is the burning man with a stranger’s face.

In his place is your Loki. Perhaps thinner than he should be, and he could undoubtedly use some more sleep, but he seems… alive again. His eyes, you can’t stop yourself from studying them; that shrewd, green gaze you know so well.

Your mind calls up varying memories of the Loki you’d found on Earth, comparing each to the man in front of you and discarding them one by one. There is no blue. No twisted hatred. You know he’s not the same as his old self, but you decide to cross that bridge when you get there. Neither of you can go back to who you were before it all. You’ve made your peace with it.

Hopefully, he can, too.

Loki says your name, scrutinizing you as much as you are him. He’s guarded, but you know him well enough to see he’s nervous. The realization makes your shoulders relax, although the tension in the room remains.

You take a tentative step forward. Then another. When you keep moving, he steps forward as well.

And when you meet, you’re wrapped in his embrace. He’s rigid and unsure, but his hands still gather you close. You press your face against his chest and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

“You’re home.” His voice is hushed, meant only for you to hear.

“You’re an asshole,” you choke out, your voice strained from withholding tears. “I fucking missed you.”

And he laughs softly in your ear.

- - -

Talking it out is neither fast nor fun. It takes days, weeks. It’ll take more. But each step forward gives you both a bit more closure than before.

Your chosen place for these talks is the fancy settee. Your legs dangle over its edge, your boots lightly tapping on the side of one of Loki’s many bookcases as you stare at the sitting room’s ceiling. You’re surprised there aren’t books up there, too.

You both talk of the scepter. Its voice. Its impact. Loki explains what he can recall of the Other, and you tell him of the voice you heard in New York and Asgard’s infirmary.

You both talk about Willow and The Avengers. Loki’s chaotic plan and the meaning behind it.

“I wanted it all,” he says one day, pacing past the settee as he explains. You vaguely remember when he’d said the same thing at the top of Stark’s tower. “The cube. The scepter. Earth. Asgard.” He pauses, and when you look up, you find him staring at you. He blinks and starts to pace again. “You.”

“Oh,” you say.

“All of it,” Loki tells you. “It seemed possible, as mad as it sounds. It seemed… simple.”

“It did make things seem really simple,” you agree, turning away to frown at the ceiling again.

After some more discussion, there’s a lull in the conversation. Loki walks to the chair closest to you and sits. He leans forward and rubs a hand across his face.

You see the gesture from the corner of your eye, and it worries you. It’s no secret that he’s not sleeping well. You sit up and stretch your arms, arcing your back until it pops. “It’s late,” you tell him.

When he doesn’t reply, you look over and realize his eyes are caught on your glove.

“It’s late,” you say again, softer this time, dropping your arms and breaking his gaze.

You don’t think he’s going to reply, but then….

“Don’t go.”

The following silence is heavy, but you know you have to break it.

“I’ve got my own prison rooms to report to,” you say, habitually tugging at your glove as you stand.

He doesn’t say anything until you get to the door.

“I’m sorry.”

You hesitate at the door… and then open it. “Me, too.”

- - -

Periodically you meet with Thor, who has wholeheartedly welcomed you back.

“The council is perhaps a bit displeased that I’ve allowed you within our walls,” he tells you. “But I am king, so they may stay displeased.”

As precautious as Thor’s advisors are, they have convinced him to keep guards posted in the passages between the guest wing and the rest of the palace. It wouldn’t bother you, but you hate having to ask to go to the training grounds every day.

Because you know you need to train.

“The threat is real,” Loki tells you one night. “This ‘peace’, it’s not a reprieve. Thanos and those that follow him continue to plot in the shadows.”

It is your turn to pace Loki’s sitting room. “We have to be ready.”

“We aren’t,” he tells you flatly.

You bite your lip, worrying the skin until it hurts. Your hands ball into fists and then relax, over and over as you walk. The magnitude of it all, the lack of control… it’s daunting.

Your pacing lands you close to the settee, and so you force yourself to sit. “It feels like we’re sitting ducks.” Loki only stares at you from his chair, which makes you sigh. “You said that… that Thanos and the Other thought we’d be dangerous if we worked together. Which is why they pushed that separation.” You ponder in silence for a moment, and then ask, “Does that still count? Like, will it make any difference?”

“That was when we had the scepter and the Tesseract,” Loki reminds you. “Now, we’re removed from both, and you’re….”

He falls silent. You thread your fingers together and lean over, propping your elbows on your thighs and resting your forehead against your hands. You can feel the leather glove against your skin, cold, and now (unfortunately) familiar.

You hear Loki get up, and you figure he’s about to start pacing now that you’ve stilled. Instead, you feel him sit beside you on the settee.

He’s kept his distance since your initial embrace, but now you feel the light touch of his fingers on your forearm.

Your chest hurts. “It’s late,” you say, voice hushed.

“It is,” he agrees.

His fingers travel towards your wrist, the sensation leaving chill bumps in its wake. When his touch finally reaches your hand, you slowly lower your arm until it lays across Loki’s thigh, palm up.

Instead of pulling off your glove, he slips his fingers through yours. The pressure makes your wrist ache, but it isn’t as bad a pain as it has been.

“Don’t go,” Loki asks of you.

You’re silent for a long moment, staring at your hand in his. You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. Time passes, although you’re not sure how long you sit with him.

But inevitably, you squeeze his hand, rise, and walk to the door.

- - -

You feel like you’re talking in circles. Thinking in circles. There’s too many questions, too many problems, and not enough answers. Not even close.

Training doesn’t help quiet your mind tonight, and instead of walking the familiar halls towards your room, you walk instead a different set of familiar halls.

“This is pointless,” your cranky guard states. “He’s no doubt asleep at this hour.”

“He’s not,” you reply, and knock on Loki’s door.

He is indeed awake.

Loki must have been in his sitting room, because he answers within a few, short seconds. You don’t miss the guard’s huff of annoyance as Loki closes the door behind you.

The prince says your name as you walk towards the settee.

“My mind won’t shut up,” you tell him. When you sit, you realize your heartbeat’s running on useless adrenaline, and your nerves are making your leg bounce. You run a hand through your hair and suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I can relate,” Loki says, taking his seat beside you.

You look around the room and realize the only light is coming from a candle next to the chair Loki likes to read in. “Where’s your book?” you ask.

“I… wasn’t reading tonight,” he tells you.

“What were you doing?”

There’s a stretch of silence, and then he nods. “Reflecting,” he finally decides.

“You should be sleeping, you know,” you tell him.

“Hypocrite,” he names you.

You run a hand through your hair again, mind still scattered. You realize there’s pressure on your thigh, and you find Loki’s placed his hand on your leg to stop its bouncing.

It works. Even with your leg still, his hand stays.

You know you need to calm down. The threat isn’t here, after all, and there’s no way for you to physically fight this feeling of trepidation.

You take another deep breath. “What were you reflecting on?” you ask him.

He’s quiet for a while, long enough for you to regret asking. But then he sighs and says, “On us.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “Got any specifics?”

You watch him as he stares at the flickering candle next to his vacant chair. Shadows play across his face, changing his features with every shift of the small flame. The silence is strangely comforting, and you can feel your heartbeat slow as it decides it no longer wants to break free of your ribs.

“Specifically,” Loki finally says, his words slow and laden with exhaustion, “how neither of us could kill the other. Even at our lowest. Even when it was the most beneficial, the most logical solution… neither of us did it.”

He turns to face you, candlelight reflected in his eyes. You can’t read his expression, especially not in the dancing shadows. You think on his words, and then say, “I’m glad. Guess it says something, huh?”

“I suppose it must,” he says softly, breaking from your gaze to stare across the room once more. He absentmindedly traces imaginary lines across your thigh as his mind chases different trains of thought.

You catch his attention again when you take his hand. He stares, frown pronounced as his fingers interlace with leather. “Do you wear this to sleep?” he asks, thumb skating across your glove.

“Yeah,” you say. “It kinda… glows. So… yeah. Sig got me a pair of cloth gloves, so I use one of them instead of this leather one when I need to sleep. They’re thinner.”

“I see,” Loki says.

You extract your hand from his, hesitate, and then carefully pull on each of the glove’s fingers. You slip it off and set it aside, and then offer your dimly glowing hand to Loki.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, morbidly curious.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” you say, hoping to wipe the pained look off his face.

“Had I not –”

“Don’t,” you warn him. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he acquiesces.

Loki holds your hand in both of his, feeling the strange, solid magic that hums beneath his fingers. You aren’t used to the sensation of touch with your hand of light, as you try to keep a glove on when at all possible. It’s almost… cathartic to feel Loki gently press his fingers against your palm, his thumb carefully sliding across the back of your hand.

“Are you…” he begins, but seems at a loss for words.

“Am I?” you ask. His troubled look prompts you to guess, “Am I… okay?” When he subtly nods his head, you let out a short laugh. “Kind of? I’m… fine. Eventually, I’ll be okay. It’s a part of me. That’s it. It’s just a part of me now.” You stare at your hand, Loki’s fingers a black silhouette against the light. “Are you okay?” you ask him.

“As you’ve said,” he tells you smoothly, “I will be.”

Loki releases your hand so you can slip on your glove, and when it’s in place, you flex your fingers out of habit. You glance at him and then say, “Glad we didn’t kill each other.”

You stand up, Loki following suit. You’re already turning towards the door when you say, “It’s la–”

“Late,” Loki finishes as he catches your wrist.

You look back at him, at his fingers closed around the cuff of your glove.

“I know I’ve no right to ask,” he says quietly. “And yet, I ask.” Loki closes the distance between the two of you, and your heart stutters as his nose brushes yours. “Don’t go.”

Maybe it’s because it’s late.

Maybe it’s because you didn’t kill each other.

Or maybe it’s because you still love him.

But ultimately, you figure the reason doesn’t really matter.

This time, you kiss him.

- - -

You and Loki can walk the city, so long as guards shadow your steps. You don’t really care for it, but to some extent, it does help soothe your restless spirit.

At first, the public was confused. The rumors that had spread through Asgard were undoubtedly exaggerated, and they certainly misconstrued parts of the truth (although the truth itself doesn’t paint either of you in a good light). But it is not as if the two of you have ever been especially beloved by Asgard, not nearly on the level to which the people hold Thor. And Thor has freed you, the Asgardians tell themselves, so surely you must be able to keep that murderous nature in check. The both of you have been held accountable for crimes against Midgard, not Asgard.

So, as the people grow accustomed to seeing the two of you, while many still cut unsavory glances, the hatred has somewhat dulled. Indifference is mostly what you see. You have not impacted their lives, and so they continue living.

The whispers are worth being free of the palace. They’re worth the trips to Sigrid and Asmund’s, where you feel normal and welcome. They’re worth dropping by the sorcerers’ guild, where none of the members seem to think any different of Loki – if anything, they’re eager to learn what secrets he’s gathered from his morbid misadventure.

However, these pleasant bubbles of the past cannot mask the grim situation brewing in the galaxy. One of which Thor’s council has now been made aware of and are eager to discuss. And on this day, they want you there.

You thought you’d be more nervous as you step into the council’s war room. It’s a large room, like most are in the palace, with a long table in its center. Thor’s at its head, and while he’s kept Odin’s council intact, he’s added Sif and what remains of The Warriors Three to his circle of advisors.

“Warrior,” Thor greets you with a smile.

“Hey,” you answer, offering him a weak grin as you waver near the door. “You, um, wanted to see me?”

Hogun crosses his arms, the expression on his face mirrored by the members of Thor’s council, save for Sif and Volstagg.

“Aye,” Thor says, motioning you forward and nodding his head towards one of the empty chairs. “I’ve something to ask of you, my friend.”

And as you listen, you realize that Thor does have a plan for you, after all. He’d pardoned you for his own personal reasons, you have no doubt, but now he’s found a way to truly free you. One with which none on his council can argue.

“Okay,” you state, and you’re pretty sure your body feels significantly lighter. “Yeah. I accept.”

 That night, when you visit the prince, you repeat Thor’s words with an eagerness that stems from your desire to do something. At last, you can stop agonizing over circumstances beyond your control. You no longer have to be a faux prisoner in Asgard’s halls.

Loki doesn’t seem particularly pleased with the plan, though you know he will not stop you. But when you reach the end of your explanation, and silence reigns, you abruptly cease your pacing and hold his gaze. “Come with me.”

His thoughts seem to pause, shift gears, and rapidly head down a different path. “Truly?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you answer, as if it’s simple.

And maybe this time, it is.

“You could no doubt accomplish such a task alone,” Loki says, his tone nonchalant as he considers the idea.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

A smile slowly spreads across his face, one you aren’t sure you’ve seen in over a year. At last, he says, “Neither do I.”

- - -

At the mountain’s peak, you find yourself in a ceremony.

Your dress is emerald green, the fabric silky against your skin. You’re glad there’s a slit in its long skirt, so you can actually walk. The bodice fastens around your neck, leaving your arms and back exposed. The dress belt has thin, silver spirals and swirls that are interspersed with small gems.

The dress makes you more nervous than the ceremony itself, but Frigga is the one that had it made for you, so there’s no way in hell you can refuse to wear it. She’s gifted you a piece of jewelry to go with it; a golden bracelet winds up your wrist, forming a snake with green, jeweled eyes. On your other hand is a lace glove, your hand of light showing through its intricate design.

The queen has even given you a scabbard that fits the dagger you made for the ceremony. The dark leather is embossed with geometric patterns and swirls, and it sits comfortably on your hip, attached to your dress belt.

At least you have that part of the wedding to look forward to.

You figure most of the people gathered are attending for the feast rather than the ceremony, and you don’t blame them. You aren’t keen on a wedding, either. But you said you’d do it, so here you are.

You end up alone with Sigrid in one of the palace’s dressing rooms, which allows you a brief moment of relief after the whirlwind of Frigga’s servants, who had assisted you in dressing. Sigrid makes a fuss about your hair when she helps you don your bridal crown. You had no plans on wearing one, which Sig had apparently foreseen and set about correcting over the past week. And while you know next to nothing about plants and flowers, you can tell Sigrid’s put a lot of care into the ceremonial crown.

“It’s perfect,” you tell her warmly, taking her hands in yours so she’ll stop fretting over your appearance. “Love you, Siggy. Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Sigrid knows you mean everything. She has stayed with you through the worst and the best of it – from that ugly blue dress to this gorgeous bridal crown. Sigrid’s smile is dazzling, and when she hugs you, you’re struck by the fact that she’s almost taller than you are. She laughs pleasantly and tells you, “I love you, too.”

“You look gorgeous,” Willow’s voice states from near the door, and you turn to find your best friend has finally arrived. “Sorry I’m late!”

Will’s tired eyes hint at too many restless nights, but her broad smile is genuine as she crosses the room to hug you. A lot of hugs today, you think. Hopefully it’s not a trend that will continue throughout the rest of the evening.

“Are you ready?” Will asks as she releases you.

“No. Yes?” You sigh heavily and shake your head. “This ceremony shit means a lot to people here, so I’ll go ahead and… participate.”

“Oh, you’re going to dislike it, I’m sure,” Sigrid pipes up, hiding a little laugh behind her hand. “But it’s going to be lovely.”

“Agreed,” Will says with a grin, and she gently pats you on the arm in a show of comfort. At least you think it’s comfort, until you see a mischievous shift in her expression, and she says, “Come on, Princess, it’s wedding time!”

Sigrid has to hide her face, either from trying to hold in laughter or from the look you’re giving Willow.

 You’re nervous until you see him.

You walk through the crowd of Asgardians, the evening breeze ruffling the ribbons and flowers in your crown. The sound right next to your ears drowns out the murmurs of the people gathered, although you can still feel too many pairs of eyes on you.

One eye is especially heavy; Odin is present, although you’re sure his attendance is by Queen Frigga’s design. Most of this wedding is, after all.

The sight of Will at the front of the crowd gives you something to focus on and further assuages your fears as you make your way towards the center of the courtyard.

The circular wedding pavilion is large, crafted of white marble that seems to gleam in the evening sun. Golden fabric flows down the structure’s pillars, and vibrant flowers line its sides. Soft lights bob through the air, and while they remind you of fireflies, you realize they’re made of magic. A wide, flat dais sits in the pavilion’s center, which is where Loki waits.

You feel like you can finally breathe when you reach him. He looks… regal. Like true royalty. In classic Asgardian fashion, his ceremonial outfit is (in your opinion) overly intricate and detailed, yet today you can’t be bothered to pretend you don’t notice how well he wears it. You note the sword belt around Loki’s waist, and you subconsciously brush your arm against the sheathed dagger at your hip.

Loki looks sharp. He looks dangerous.

He looks happy to see you.

 Loki has known from the beginning that you are a foreigner, not only to Asgard, but to the entire realm itself. But you fit in amongst the humans and Asgardians, so much so that he hasn’t dwelled on the fact in quite a while. But you don’t look anything like a human in this moment – not to him. You’re otherworldly. And he’s admittedly a bit stunned.

As you draw closer, Loki notices belladonna in your bridal crown, woven with ribbons and nestled next to dark, red roses. The crown’s metalwork is carefully detailed, although the design is simpler than some he’s seen. His mother must have asked it of the makers, knowing such a thing would be more suited to your tastes.

When you join him on the dais it’s clear to him that you’re uncomfortable, but you’re smiling at him anyway. This ceremony isn’t going to mean much to you – your bond with him has been long established within your own culture, after all – but the fact that you’re going through it all for him is incredibly satisfying.

Upsetting Odin is also satisfying, that Loki will concede.

Thor is officiating, which Loki had been adamantly against during the wedding planning. He relented only when it was pointed out that nothing could make the union more official in the eyes of the law than if the law himself was officiating. And so, Thor stands with the two of you on the dais.

You think the ceremony is similar to Sigrid and Asmund’s, aside from Thor’s excited, booming voice. You quote the same texts they did, and you ask for the same kind of blessings from the fates. Whether you think said fates are listening or not doesn’t seem to matter.

There are holes in the wedding where your family should be, so you’ve asked Willow to give her blessing instead. She’s closer than family to you, anyway. You’re surprised when Thor himself chimes in with his blessing during this part of the ceremony, and when you look over at him, you have to blink a few times to stop any tears from falling.

Queen Frigga voices her approval when it is time for Loki’s family to speak, although Odin is notably silent. Thor carries on and gives his blessing again, completely unbothered.

“Aye, this is the part I’m sure you’re excited for, Warrior,” Thor tells you, and then loudly proclaims that it’s time for you and Loki to present one another with the blades of your ancestors.

Loki meets your eyes and draws his sword, and for a moment, you’re taken back to your fight against him in Stark Tower. The difference between the memory and the present is truly astonishing.

What a journey it has been, Loki’s voice says in your mind.

Aloud, he states, “I chose this one for you.”

Your eyes are drawn to the sword – silver, of course. Its hilt ends in a sizable, pointed diamond, which catches the light in interesting ways has Loki turns the blade towards the wedding guests. Its hand guard is sleek, the metal sweeping back over its grip, and you note that it seems surprisingly functional for a decorative, old sword.

“I present to you one of the swords of the family Odinson,” Loki says, although you can feel flashes of… somethingwhen he says the family name. “It is to be a symbol of our union.”

He passes you the blade, and you realize… it’s sharp. He’s had it sharpened. This isn’t something to hang on a wall, meant for decoration, this is something you can strap to your hip and actually use.

“It is to show that while I may wish to protect you, I am well aware that you can protect yourself,” Loki says, and although the smile on his face is dangerously close to a smirk, you can hear the sincerity in his tone. “It is to show that I will fight at your side, and that your battles are mine as well.”

You can feel your face flush, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade him. Loki’s smile widens, the expression playing with your heartbeat as he continues. “You are stronger and fiercer than any woman I’ve known.” He pauses and considers his words, and then takes your free hand. “I love you. My vow is ever the same. While you live, I want you. Be it through Ragnarok or rapture, by the bite of a blade or the soft touch of time. It matters not. It never has.”

You stare at him, overwhelmed with… feelings. You’ve never been good with them, but right now they’re culminating in a mantra that parades through your thoughts: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fucking hell.

Loki squeezes your hand and then releases it, and you realize it’s your turn.

How am I supposed to follow that up, jackass?! you think to him.

He watches you, completely settling into smirk territory as you unsheathe the dagger you’ve made for him. You’re careful, ensuring your hand of light doesn’t touch it – if you accidentally destroy the weapon, you’re going to lose your mind, you just know it.

It took forever to craft the blade with your powers on the fritz. You had almost given up at least three times, although your determination won out in the end.

You’d tried to make it fancy, since you’re literally giving it to a prince – specifically a prince of one of the most stupid, fancy worlds you’ve ever been to. The black dagger has a curved, sharp tip, and its hilt holds the spirals you’ve seen on other Asgardian weapons. Wrapped across the guard and down towards the blade is a snake, the blade itself seemingly jutting from the snake’s jaws.

Okay, now you have to talk. You stare at Loki for a moment and then suck in a breath. “So, I, uh, don’t have a family sword, or whatever, and I know you don’t even use a sword. And I wanted to make you something you could use, so I made this dagger.”

You flip the dagger and hold it by the flat of the blade to show Loki the handle, which he appraises with a raised eyebrow.

Oh, right, there’s like a script to this ceremony stuff. “I present to you this dagger,” you state. “It is to be a symbol of our union.”

You offer him the handle again, and this time he takes it. Loki gives the dagger an experimental spin, and the familiar sight makes you grin. Now, what were you supposed to say, again? “I guess it’s… to show….” You can’t think of the words, and everything you’ve practiced before sounds dumb now.

You glance at the crowd, and then at Thor. The silence is stretching, and you can’t stand it anymore, so you just speak.

“I chose you,” you tell Loki, and the truth of it sets in after you say it. “Repeatedly.”

By deciding to live. By refusing Odin’s ultimatum, and staying in Asgard.

By agreeing to marry Loki, and then waiting for word after he vanished.

By sparing his life.

“And… well… I think we both fought hard to get here today,” you say.

Loki’s green eyes…. You never thought they’d mean so much to you. Especially when he’s looking at you like this.

“I chose to love you,” you tell him at last. “And I’m glad I did.”

- - -

The two of you had decided against rings. You can remember that conversation clearly.

And yet at the feast table, Loki hands you a golden ring strung through a silver chain. “To wear, if you want,” he explains nonchalantly. “I know you said your people have no outward signs of these ‘bonds’, so I thought it easier to tuck a ring out of sight around your neck rather than on your hand.”

“I don’t have a ring for you,” you tell him, frowning. “You weren’t supposed to –”

He pats the center of his chest, and your frown grows more pronounced. “But… isn’t each person supposed to get a ring for the other?”

“Indeed,” Loki agrees with a sly smile. “The lack of reciprocation has undoubtedly wounded me. What a slight, having to procure my own wedding band! Although,” he adds, dropping his voice and losing the dramatic sarcasm. “I’ve thought of some ways you could make it up to me.”

And he kisses you, slow and purposeful, until you clue into the cheers and whistles from the rest of the feast hall. “Oh, my God,” you tell him in a hushed whisper, pushing on his chest.

“Yes?” he asks, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You groan, fight back a smile, and grab your glass, truly glad that honeyed mead goes down smoothly.

- - -

Willow catches up to you after the dancing starts. Loki has broken away to speak with his mother, and you’re chatting with Sigrid and Asmund.

Will taps you on the shoulder and has to speak louder to be heard over the music. “I have to go soon!”

Sigrid and Asmund hear her, and bid you both farewell so the two of you can say goodbye without an audience.

“I’m glad you came,” you tell her, and you wrap her in final a hug. “I’ve missed you! And I’ll keep missing you.”

“I miss you, too, friend,” she says as she pulls away. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’ll write to you once we make it,” you tell her. “My power’s still all weird, but I think we should be good if I make some stops along the way.”

“Let me know if you need me,” Will says. “Seriously. I don’t like trooping through your portals, but I’ll come drag you both out of that dark place if I have to.”

“Thanks,” you tell her with a smile.

Will readjusts her bag strap, and then seems to realize something. “Oh!”

“Oh?” you ask as she digs around in her bag.

“Here!” she states, and promptly hands you a… bracelet?

You hold it up, a bit lost. It’s made of a bunch of beads on a black elastic band, and when you turn it over you realize there’s letters on some of the beads.

‘BEST FRIENDS’

“It’s from Tony,” Will explains. “He said it’s a wedding gift? And that he ‘sends his congrats to the pair of penthouse destroyers’.”

You’re torn between laughter and guilt, which inevitably comes out as a snort. Before you can respond, you feel Loki’s hand on your arm, and he reads aloud, “Best friends?”

“It’s from Tony,” Will says again, her voice pitching upward in an almost-question this time.

“Healer, why are you giving us garbage on our wedding day?” Loki asks. He goes to grab the bracelet, but you pull it away.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t get anything,” you tell him, not for the first time.

“Oh, actually, he did send you something,” Willow tells Loki, and she extracts a piece of paper from her bag. “Here.”

“What is this?” Loki asks, frowning as he turns the paper over to read it.

“An itemized bill,” Willow says.

All right, guilt is winning out this time. “Did he charge me, too?” you ask, leaning closer.

“No,” Will says. “It’s addressed to,” she pauses as Loki crumples the “bill”, “Emerald City.”

You can’t help but laugh, Will chuckling along with you. Loki scoffs, not nearly as amused.

If it wasn’t your wedding day, you’d slip the ‘BEST FRIENDS’ bracelet around your wrist just to spite him.

But it is your wedding day, so you tuck it into your dress pocket.

“Write soon,” Will says. “Be careful. And at least try to stay out of trouble.”

“I promise we’ll do our best?” you tell her, which makes Loki roll his eyes.

Willow turns to go, but hesitates and looks back at you. With a sad smile, she says, “Tell them ‘hi’ for me, okay?”

When you nod, she returns the gesture and walks away.

- - -

Back at your table, food finished and glass empty, you prop your head on your hand and turn to Loki. “So, we’re married.”

“We are,” he agrees.

You consider it for a moment, and then ask, “Do you feel any different?”

Loki thinks it over, and you watch as his eyes flit across your face. After a moment, he says, “It pleases me.”

You laugh. The feast hall is slowly emptying, so the sound seems louder than it should.

“Do you?” he asks.

“I guess it pleases me, too.”

- - -

It is Thor’s orders that give him freedom, yet a part of Loki still resents it. At this point, this resentment is almost a reflex, and he figures he’ll never be rid of it. Not anytime soon, at least.

You, on the other hand, are eager; the weight of your travel pack is like an old friend, one you only now realize how dearly you’ve missed.

“Gather warriors,” Thor urges you at the end of the rainbow bridge. “Anyone you can trust. Any who wish to fight for their lives, for the lives of those they love, or for the good of all worlds.” When you nod, Thor looks to his brother. “If what you speak of Thanos is true –”

“It is.”

“– then we need assistance. From anywhere and everywhere.”

You nod again, and Thor briefly clasps his brother’s shoulder before watching you and Loki disappear into Heimdall’s golden observatory.

- - -

The Bifrost has never been kind to you, and this trip is no different.

Loki helps you to your feet once the colors stop swirling, and you lean on him as the two of you peer around the area. You’re in a forest, with towering trees and a canopy that almost completely obscures the sun.

Camping out for a few days is necessary for you to regain your strength. Reaching your planet is not an easy task, especially not with the Ordinat rebuilding. They’ll have surveillance set up on as many worlds as they can, so you can’t be flashy with a Bifrost entrance. Heimdall has sent the two of you as close to your world as is feasible, but the rest of the venture is on your shoulders.

 Fully rested at last, with everything packed up, you stand beside your extinguished fire and look over at Loki.

“Are you ready?” you ask. “We have to make a few stops along the way. I don’t want to risk going such a large distance all at once.”

“Am I ready?” he asks slowly, pretending to think on the question.

You nudge him with your shoulder, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious,” you insist. “My world is… dangerous. There’s powerful, scary things and people, and a lot of them will want to murder us on sight, so….”

“Powerful, hmm?” Loki asks, and you recognize the brief look of hunger on his face.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “There may be opportunities to acquire some interesting stuff, but I make no promises. Probably not cube or scepter powerful, but still.”

Your sentence is lost on Loki as a twinge of anxiety hits his chest. His ambitious expression fades as he searches your face. The realization that you’re nervous to return to your world, so much so that it’s bleeding into his own emotions, unsettles him more than your warnings of dangerous beings. Adversity does await, yes, but he’s ready.

“Are you?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you ready?”

You roll your shoulders and adjust your travel bag, then tug your glove further up your wrist. The sword Loki gave you is in its scabbard, belted to your hip. You can feel your golden ring on its chain, sitting against your chest.

You reach for Loki’s hand, and he takes it.

Everything’s as it should be.

Your nerves fade, which puts you both at ease. You stretch out your hand and tear a rift through reality.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I am.”

As the two of you walk into the dark, a journey ends.

And another begins.

---

Thanks for going on this adventure with me! This officially marks the end of the "Of Different Emotions" series. Can you believe that? Wowsa If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer them! I'll be slowly replying to comments on this chapter and the last chapter, so be patient with me! So much in my life has changed since the beginning of this series, and I'm honestly both sad and happy to see it end. Thanks again to all of you who have supported me through this, whether you joined this wild journey from the beginning, middle, or end! Love you guys

-W

@littlemisssyreid @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks @imthinkingaboutthis @verryfuckingpunny @shadows-echoes @auria223 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @agentpiku @bookscoffeeandracoons @lokibarncs​

Masterlist

Discord

[script-a-world]

Clearly there are some settings which make no sense scientifically. But how do I decide when to intentionally ignore reality, can't bother to do research, don't understand research, and thus create scientifically impossible places? When are such things considered be offensive or overused cliche or have a reader point out the impossibility and can't get into the story? I'm guessing some of this might be structural issues instead of world building?

Tex: One of the perils of attempting to write about highly technical subjects is that you run into the issue of not understanding your writing. I do raise a nominal objection as your first sentence, because sensibility is a sliding scale based on one’s familiarity with a given subject. I don’t know crap about, say, textile art (however much I might have bluffed readers in the past - no, no, this is just good googling skills on my end), but that doesn’t mean the textile arts are an inherently incomprehensible subject.

Scientifically, automobiles were once thought to be insensible. Scientifically, phones were thought to be a flight of fancy. Scientifically, 3D printing was improbable. Scientifically, quantum computing was the stuff of sci-fi nerds who just wanted to slap the “quantum” label on everything.

And yet we are now on the verge of robotic vehicles, mostly functional smartwatches, laser printing cells (PDF), and quantum computers (VentureBeat, IBM).

So I would argue that the insensibility of a setting would be due mostly to, yes, a structural issue - on the part of the author. No matter what you put into your world, internal consistency is key; nothing, no matter how ostensibly outlandish, will make sense if you contradict yourself.

I’ll volley a few questions back to you:

“[...] when to intentionally ignore reality” - Are you ignoring reality entirely, or just parts of it? Why? How does that decision benefit your world? How does it detract from your world?

“Can’t bother to do research” - Is it because you are discouraged by the breadth of your comprehension of a subject, compared to the subject’s depth? Or is it because of something else?

“Don’t understand research” - Is this because you don’t understand the academic papers that turn up in your search results, or because you have a fundamental lack of or misunderstanding of the given subject? Or is it because of something else?

“When are such things considered to be offensive or overused cliche” - As someone who intentionally arranges their studying around the plausibilities of the future, I would quite frankly be delighted to see more conceptual stretches of the imagination in this regard, as do many others on this blog, and beyond it. Why have you already passed judgement on the offensiveness or clichéd-ness of incorporating scientific things? Is this related to your other comments?

“[...] or have a reader point out the impossibility and can’t get into the story?” - If you are writing to please a specific individual or demographic, you are inevitably always going to fall short, because it’s genuinely impossible to meet every single item on a group’s wishlist without devoting your life to it (not an entirely worthy pursuit, in my opinion, but alas). What made you decide to be so concerned over the potential reaction to your stories that you worry about it before the story is even written?

I think I will put the majority of my curiosity’s weight on the last bullet point, as I’m seeing similar themes with the other portions of your question. It’s a fruitless endeavour to tie yourself into knots over a possible (not necessarily probable!) reaction - and quite likely from a stranger, to boot. Education is a relatively easy situation to fix, so long as you’re patient with yourself; dealing with anxieties over readers is… not so easy.

I can really only recommend that you take a close look at the goals of your worldbuilding, and see where you contradict yourself - once you have that in hand, it’s a relatively simple yes/no process of what concepts you want to keep. If the issue of decision comes from a lack of understanding, then make a note to yourself to seek out either the million wikis we Pylons utilize ourselves like any other worldbuilder, or to chalk it up as a genuine lack of context.

Please understand that even someone who’s dedicated their life to a certain aspect of science won’t know everything about it - that’s the point of research! We’re constantly asking ourselves questions, and pushing the envelope of known boundaries. Star Wars has lightsabers, but we don’t need to know how they work; likewise with holodecks in Star Trek. So long as an audience is reasonably entertained with the least amount of head-scratching, you can get away with handwaving quite a lot.

Lockea: On a scale between Star Trek and Star Wars, how “hard” is your science fiction?

I mention that mostly to illustrate that science fiction exists on a continuum, wherein science fiction with more “science” than “fiction” drives a story towards the harder end rather than the softer end. Also, a story’s place on the continuum will change based on what we know and understand about science.

I feel like everyone always beats me to saying all the important stuff about questions, so I’ll just give a few thoughts from my personal experience as a science fiction fan with two engineering degrees and a thesis about robots on the moon (yes really, I wrote my thesis on AI for moon robots). I really, really, love the creativity of science fiction writers. I think so often in defending the genre, we can get caught up in saying things like “science fiction predicted XYZ!” Well, sure, I may have studied Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics in my introduction to engineering ethics course, but I was also greedily reading my way through “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins at the same time. The fact that I sincerely doubt Panem will ever happen didn’t dampen my enjoyment of Katniss’s story. It was a fun read and it gave my friends and I something to talk about that wasn’t “feasibility of Battlestar Galactica” during our daily lunches.

The thing about writing science fiction is that, without a doubt, there will be someone who knows more than you about a topic who reads your story. Most of the time, I end up being that someone since everyone likes to talk about Skynet and robots taking over the world to a roboticist who sincerely refers to artificial intelligence as artificial stupidity. Y'all are seriously overestimating the field, my friends. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” even as I thought how impossible Project Insight would be. Honestly, something every READER of science fiction needs to make peace with is the fact that writers will get something wrong. Writers, despite their best efforts, are not always going to understand that a facial recognition algorithm will fail if you introduce tiny amounts of random noise and are thus going to treat The Algorithm™ as infallible in your crime drama novel.

It’s not the writer’s fault, though.

That deserves to be on its own line. It is not YOUR fault if you get something wrong. Would it be nice if science literacy was just better all around? Of course! But it’s not your fault if your science literacy isn’t up to snuff enough to parse the article I cited above. It’s also not your job. Your job as the writer is to tell the most interesting story you can and to maintain your own internal rules and logic such that the reader never breaks the willing suspension of disbelief.

I watch Star Wars and get really into the light saber fight scenes and forget that light sabers are basically impossible to make. Star Wars has the Force, which is basically magic, and that’s okay. Really. I KNOW it’s not possible, but I still have a lot of fun watching it!

So yeah, write that story about how the robots are going to take over the world. I’ll probably enjoy reading it even as I laugh off my friends telling me that I will be the first to die in the robot apocalypse (of course I will -- I have five robots in my living room alone).

Constablewrites: Tone and consistency are the biggest pieces of this for me. If it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is usually a detailed and plausible explanation, then getting an answer later that is implausible or slapdash will stand out more. But if it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is “You push that button and it goes whoosh” from the start, my expectations adjust accordingly. (It’s possible to have the latter version in a story that is mostly the former, frequently when it’s played for last. Again, tone is key.)

So yeah, a lot of this is execution and the way the story sticks to the rules it sets for itself, and also how central the implausibility is to the story. A realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic for a background bit might be a little jarring, but not nearly as much as a realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic to set up its main showdown. The more central it is to the story, the more consistency and accuracy matters. Learning how to balance this can take some practice and some insight from beta readers.

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 2: 2x21 Patterns of Force

Took a nap after work today!! Perhaps a bad idea.

Anyway, some thoughts on the... awkward Patterns of Force.

Another story about Jim looking for his hero, I see. That never (always) ends badly.

Definitely getting an image of little Spock (teenage Spock? young adult Spock? all little Spocks) reading about Earth history.

Oh no, an armed drone. That does not bode well. Why do Kirk’s heroes always betray him?

A subcutaneous transponder. That seems like a useful device to introduce into the narrative. (Slash remember for future purposes...)

Also it reminds of me “He’s a...a... a transponster!”

Spock in a hat. I guess the Ekosians and/or Zeons don’t have pointed ears, then.

“It’s our old enemy...fascism.”

Well this guy literally was not subtle in his references to Nazi Germany. (I’m referring in universe to what’s-his-face but this also applies to the episode writer.)

“The evidence is clear... someone did interfere.”

“You look quite well for a man who’s been utterly destroyed, Mr. Spock.” This man canNOT stop flirting for one second.

Lol, using Spock to distract the Nazi.

“It’s logical to pretend to be a Nazi? Okay, I’m convinced. You said the magic word.”

“Look! I captured him!” So proud.

Kirk’s face when Spock says he would make a convincing Nazi. Bb, you’re not doing the compliment thing right. (I’ll actually be quite honest... I find the humor in that moment but it also makes me uncomfortable given both these actors are Jewish.)

That said, Kirk is canonically better at blending into undercover scenarios than Spock is. He thinks better on his feet, creatively.

How do these people NOT recognize two whole-ass aliens.

...Maybe they do.

I do like when Kirk is being interrogated and still tries to be charming..

That Nazi really lost a lot of authority after being dressed down by his superior in front of the captives.

I like this Zeon. 

“The flaw in the plan is this locked door.” Thanks Spock. It’s this subtle humor that I think people often miss in him. Like where you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not.

Kirk is so smart!!! He never gets credit for being this smart.

Hmm, taking out the transponders is such a weirdly intimate scene.

The Zeon wants to be included in this adventure so much but they’re obsessed with each other, like “What Zeon?”

“I’ll be your platform, Mr. Spock.”

This is such a weirdly humorous interlude for a story about Nazis. Kind of reminds me in a way of that conversation with the police man on City on the Edge of Forever. I mean that ep was much better but just like the sudden switch in tone.

Spock’s like “Oh, that was cool. Made a laser.”

I heard Kirk say, “You, over there,” as in directing Spock to stand over there, but the subtitles say “Beautiful. Over there.” As in, “we did a beautiful job getting out, now Spock, stand over there.” But combine them...?

Not gonna get a disguise for Spock huh? Just gonna let him be shirtless a little more for no apparent reason.

Poor Zeon. These aliens are inscrutable and not letting him in on anything.

“Alien pistols.”

“Who would win? the entire military force of this planet or two phaser-less space husbands?"

I probably shouldn’t laugh every time Kirk impersonates a Nazi but I do. "Don't mind me... completely believable Nazi here..."

The unsubtle of the Hebrew names. And of course.. .Zeon.

“We’ll be just as bad as the Nazis.” No, actually, you’re not and never will be that’s not how it works. BUT you definitely should help the aliens. Like, that phrase grates because it’s usually used to refer to, like, use of violence, use of “censorship” but here’s it more about turning away people who are different or minority and so then it does make sense but....the connotations.

Spock’s like, “May I... get away from this emotion? Has enough time passed for me to ask that?”

More Nazis! Following them everywhere!

Oh, psych. Not Nazis after all.

Spock’s like “Betraying your own father, you say? I have never thought about that.”

“The Fuhrer... is an alien?” Actual real line AND a correct summation of the situation.

This ep does not paint the Federation in a great light. Although to be fair... John Gill was breaking the rules so.

Documentary corps... I love it. Great disguise. Flash lights in people’s eyes, have an excuse to stay in a group, no on looks at you. Genius.

Spock is honestly so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about EVERYTHING. He cannot be tamed. Again, really an aspect of him I miss in the reboots.

Kirk really is the captain of everyone in his vicinity.

“Think positively, Spock.”

Uhura is unflappable. “A Nazi Colonel’s uniform? Of course, Captain.”

Send him down naked if you have to!! Yes, please, send him down naked.

Spock giving McCoy detailed instructions on how to put on boots... Why was dialogue like this not in the reboots?

McCoy is so polite. Polite first, confused later. “Nice to meet you, Nazi--wait, Nazi???”

I love how McCoy immediately put on his drunk face and Spock was like, "An opportunity to insult McCoy?? Awesome.”

So I assumed the Chairman was either dumb or didn’t recognize them with their shirts on but apparently he was yet another mole, so. At least it’s not a plot hole.

“The speech has no discernible pattern or logic.” Hmmm, I wonder what it feels like to have a leader who speaks with no discernible pattern or logic?

Guys. Pals. Awful people. Did he really give orders, or did he just say random shit? People will flock to anything. I'll be honest, I actually think this is one of the subtler and better parts of this episode: how chilling it is to contemplate how people will rally around any non-speech that has the right tone and a few key words. This is garbage language. But it incites people to kill.

McCoy and his stimulants again.

Spock and his mind probing again.

Wow Spock really messed with his mind there. “He can answer questions but not otherwise speak?” What kind of crazy shit is that?

They are being so mean to Spock. “Malformed ears.” “Low forehead.” That’s not a low forehead, that’s bangs.

Nice triumivirate scene at the end. Feels good, feels organic. Kirk likes to hear his two BFFs bickering because it feels like all is right with the universe, and I agree. Nature is healing.

This episode has a very weird (and very hard to swallow imo) backstory. Like, who primarily associates the Nazis with efficiency? And even if you do, if you think there’s something to the way they put together the country so fast post-WWI, all of this “efficiency” is directly tied to hatred and violence. Like Isak said, the Ekosians have nothing to hold them together BUT hating Zeons. That's at the center of the design. It's not like Gill’s plan backfired it was just... a horrible plan?? It doesn’t even make sense to me that his “effective regime” was co-opted by one hateful person because what was at the center of the “Nazi” regime before the hatred of Zeons? What could it have been? There are no other alternatives provided. Also, even if it could have been somehow accomplished without the use of a scapegoat.. is fascism really an ideal? Like the story never reckoned with that concept at all, which I find disturbing.

Here’s the thing about Gill. He is a certain real type and I appreciate his inclusion up to a point. He’s the Naive, Hubristic Intellectual. He thinks because he’s studied something, academically, he knows more about it even than people who experienced it, and he can fix all of its problems. “I can do this, but better. I am so smart, I am so well-informed, I have no flaws.” I can even see this sort of person being someone a young Kirk would admire because there’s an optimism and idealism to this naivete. I don’t think Kirk is arrogant but he is very idealistic, and when he was a young man, still in the market for heroes, or at least idols or mentors? Yeah, someone with that kind of attitude toward life--that we can deeply understand and then improve upon history--would have appealed to him. It’s possible that Gill even was the “compassionate, gentle” person that Kirk thought, or that he had that side to him.

Where I think the episode erred is in absolving Gill of most of his guilt for this state of affairs. He does die and he does admit he was wrong, but his biggest sin is allegedly in introducing a regime that could be co-opted for evil rather than one that was inherently bad. He is literally drugged (tortured in a way), to emphasize just how non-culpable the narrative thinks he is. Also, while he does apologize for interfering at all, even this is fairly brief and not expanded upon in the rest of the narrative. The truth is he shouldn’t have interfered in general, because that’s not his place or his right, and he shouldn’t have interfered in this way specifically. Even if Malakon hadn’t risen and taken over, the ideal Gil was imposing was one of unthinking uniformity, lack of autonomy, worship of a leader over the rule law--these are not the values of the Federation, the show Star Trek, or me. But he’s used more as a device to explain why the show is so unsubtly Nazi, rather than a real villain or object lesson. Even though Gill is a much better object lesson than Malakon.

And what about Malakon? The ending presents him, literally and in so many words, as the “one evil man” responsible for all of this. I think we know both from studying history and, unfortunately, from our own times, that this is untrue because impossible. One evil person is just a lunatic ranting on the street corner. One evil leader became leader because others agreed and gave him power, or agreed in part, or made a deal with the devil, or disagreed but said nothing, or spoke but were overwhelmed. It’s a disservice to the subject matter to say that dictatorships or authoritarian regimes are that simple. I get that the episode is only 50 minutes and it needs to wrap up, and it’s simpler to say “Okay, killed the Villain, now we can go back to being Not Evil, all the Ekosians will be as happy as the Zeons because we never really wanted this.” But Hitler and his henchmen weren’t the only Nazis. Regular people--and in this context, regular Ekosians--weren’t Nazis too.

Overall, the episode was okay. Very awkward though. Very blunt. I think it would have been better off not using the Nazi symbology so literally. Like the idea that a human would come into a society and purposefully create something from our history is interesting (and “what if Earth but alien?” is certainly something TOS likes doing and finds various ways to do--like the gangsters in A Piece of the Action or Neo-Rome in Bread and Circuses or even literal Greek Gods in Who Mourns for Adonais?) but not worth it given which society was being emulated. It seemed to be too much an excuse to dig out the old WWII movie costumes (and put Jewish actors in Nazi regalia which... is very... distressing) and not so much an excuse for some kind of commentary along the lines of what I said above re: the hubris of historians, the hubris of time. That aspect leaves a bad taste. It had some good ideas but I think, again, it was hindered rather than helped by how literal it insisted (for some reason) on being. Compare it to A Private Little War, which was just about as obvious a Vietnam allegory as you can get, and yet still didn’t literally transport anyone to Vietnam, and this ep looks all the more clunky. I’m probably judging it more harshly than I have on previous viewings, but I really feel like... you can use sci fi to make a commentary on the rise of authoritarianism, but the delicacy of the subject matter requires you to be particularly thoughtful in the way you do it and the actual statements you’re making.

Anyway, the Enterprise Defeats Nazis is a good episode summary at least.

I think in my last attempt at a whole rewatch I stopped at around this point. I seem to have watched the next two episodes, according to Amazon, but I have a weird feeling I only watched one, the next one, By Any Other Name, and then stopped. I don’t remember either of them so we’ll see how that goes! Will they seem familiar or not?

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

A Game

Very random. Probably the most random ever... I have no idea how or why this happened. (Yes, I do, I was forced into a Super Bowl pool and I know nothing about football...) So, this is my revenge. 

-----------

The automated double doors to the living room split open. And the resident sorceress emerged. She made her way down the stairs and trekked silently over to the television.

"Raven!" The pale girl turned around with a start. Her back went rigid. Purple hair moving around her face.

"Well, hello to you too." She replied with a cool purple brow directed at Beast Boy.

"Hello, Friend Raven." Starfire smiled. Beckoning her from her spot on the floor with Silkie.

Raven gave her a nod. She had come here with a different agenda. "Raven, girl, come on." Cyborg moaned as he moved his head to try to see around her.

"Raven!"

And this time she had a ready glare.

"What?" She snapped, feeling her temple start to throb.

"You're trying to walk in front of the TV!" Beast Boy exclaimed, his voice increasing in pitch as he threw up his arms. No pretenses or subtlety. Of course it was about television.

What was new?

"I'm just going to walk over and get my book." Raven explained calmly. "I left it here last night." Though she hardly needed to explain herself to a sports obsessed idiot. But here she was.

And as expected, the green man launched into a tirade. She inhaled and exhaled, as she waited for it to pass.

"This is the Super bowl, Raven." Garfield told Raven as if she didn't understand.

"So you've been saying all week in anticipation of the event." Raven had to point this out.

"The Super! Bowl!"

At this, she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. Raven almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was acting. About a sporting event. Although, it was Garfield, after all. "You're repeating those two words like they're supposed to mean something."

Cyborg's jaw dropped. "The culmination of a season of football is a celebration! It has it all: drama, incredible commercials, a half-time show?!" Cyborg explained ecstatically. She knew how much football meant to him. It was particularly special given his past. Though, it was still not her first choice to dedicate hours of her life watching men toss a ball around a field.

The curly, red-haired alien smiled as she interjected. "I do greatly enjoy the commercials and the musical act." Starfire admitted. "Though, I must confess, I do not entirely understand the mechanics of the game." Beast Boy gave her a strange look. She blushed sheepishly and glanced at the mechanical Titan. Cyborg shook his head with a smile, and took the tanned woman under his wing. To explain the rules of football - again. This time with charts and diagrams.

Beast Boy turned back to Raven with a sigh. A muscular green arm moving, as he drew a hand down his face. "The point is we need to optimize viewing time," his emerald eyes were insistent. "This only happens once a year."

DVR and modern conveniences aside, she failed to see the point of the fanfare. "Well, so do major holidays and I don't see you making as big a deal about them..." Raven pointed out. "You actually make a bigger deal about fake food related holidays than real ones." National Croissant Day came to mind.

"The Super bowl is a holiday!" Beast Boy and Cyborg exclaimed simultaneously.

Raven's tone went completely devoid of emotion. And her pale face became grave. "How sad for the rest of the world to not have this particular sport on their roster." Not like America had rugby or cricket.

"Wait a minute, you have powers, you couldn't just magic it?" Beast Boy and his one-of-kind logic. He really was a special kind of a human being.

"You mean move it with my mind? It's called telekinesis." She held out a palm. Using her dark energy to draw the book to her. But not before pausing. To linger for three seconds longer than necessary in front of the flat screen.

"Raven?!" Beast Boy and Cyborg yelled. With the way they had just acted, one would have thought it was life or death. Not just another sporting event in an endless cycle of seasons. It was marketing. And it was consumerism at its finest. And it was America.

"Sorry. Lost focus." She tapped her temple and sauntered over to the open floor kitchen. "Enjoy your holiday." She called over her shoulder. Behind a purple shoulder length curtain, she could see Star had leapt up and tackled Cyborg with a loud laugh. And a louder, resounding thud. Her teammates were something else. Though, one didn't need to look too close to see the tiniest of smiles had taken up residence on her face.

Tiny, but it was there.

The Titans. As it was, they were her team.

-----------------

"Hey, Raven." A deep voice called out from behind a laptop. And she could feel a calming, pleasant wash over her. Even though he was working, instead of watching the game.

"Dick," Raven offered in greeting. She made her way to the fridge. Perusing the shelves, she noticed that the fake meat and fruit never seemed to deplete as quickly as everything else.

Sharp blue eyes lingered on her body, bent toward the refrigerator. "Sorry about them..." There was a long pause in the typing, as a hand ran through tousled black hair.

"Please." The rush of cold air stilled. As the door closed. "It's the Super Bowl." Raven reminded him, imitating Beast Boy. With a mock-outraged tone. Before a flat one returned. But with a witty edge that seemed reserved for their talks. "They do this every year, so I do this every year. It's tradition."

Nightwing smiled at this. "Well, traditions can change." He looked away from the computer completely for a moment to take her in. "One did."

"The fact that you're here and not in Gotham?" Raven quipped sardonically.

"No - not that." He replied, with another bright grin. "You're actually the one who did."

"I... did?" Raven placed the piece of fruit on the counter-top. He paused for a long moment. Regarding her with his cerulean orbs. A familiar warmth flooded the air. She could feel strands of his brilliant aura reaching. Stretching out like webs to catch her own. But, at the last moment, it hesitated. Then, pulled back, tight to his body.

"It's... the first year you participated in the Teen Titans Super Bowl Pool." Nightwing offered. And shook his head at her, as if finding this hard to believe.

"That is true." She gave him the faintest of smiles. "But, so did you." She nodded at him.

"Yes, I usually do." He coughed. "Though, I saw that you had the same team to win as I did." That was surprising. She hadn't noticed. Raven didn't really care for the choices, having little interest in the outcome of the game. And she suspected Dick didn't either.

Raven tucked her arms over her navy blue shirt. She didn't know why she was explaining all this to Dick, but she wanted to. "You know... I don't normally get invested in the game." He nodded. "But Cy insisted... Plus, I don't have to actually watch football to participate."

"Cyborg is right, Raven." Nightwing agreed. "And thankfully, you don't have to watch the game to eat the food he made." She could tell Dick was grateful for that fact. "Were you actually in here to sneak some?" That sounded downright conspiratory.

Raven gave him a flippant stare. Pausing for several breaths, she glanced at the trays of greasy wings, burgers, and nachos.

"Hmm." She drew in a breath as if finding it difficult to decide. "Probably just this." She held up an apple.

"Okay, yeah..." The vigilante sounded slightly disappointed. Almost as if he wanted her to eat with him. "Right. Of course."

"I'd offer you one, but..." She pointed at the plate in front of him.

"Oh, this? This... is for Beast Boy." Dick said. He watched her closely. The corners of his mouth coming upward, as he dared her to refute that statement.

"Uh huh..." She mentioned nothing about the burger that was clearly made with ground meat. His humor was very off-brand at times. She certainly didn't mind it - though she could never tell him.

"You're not the only one who can do sarcasm around here." Raven watched the sparkle of bright blue. She could feel some more emotions rolling off him in waves. Strong ones.

"Noted, Boy Wonder." The pale girl shook the apple after she rinsed it. "At this rate, I'll have to find a new thing..." She shrugged. "Later, Dick."

There was the barest bit of regret in his voice. It was masked by the easygoing tone he managed to muster up, as he bode her farewell. "Bye, Raven."

-----------------

Dick knew she didn't want to be bothered. But, he still had to try. He stared at the name plate labelled RAVEN as he knocked. At least when Raven opened the door, she didn't seem irritated. She almost looked relieved that it was him, and no one else.

"Raven," Dick tried. "I was wondering if you were coming back to watch with us."

"Probably not," She said bluntly. At times, he admired how blunt she could be. It did make for an interesting challenge.

"Oh. That's too bad." He blurted.

Her eyes flashed with the faintest amusement. "Dick - what's up?" She could most certainly tell what he was feeling. He wasn't hiding it very well. The fact that he was longing for something. For her company.

"I wanted to watch the game with you." He told her. His eyes sliding over the floor, before they came up to meet her own.

It was a lie.

He only wanted to watch her. To get lost in her - in this.

"I may be in the pool, but I still don't do sports." A very Raven answer. But, he anticipated it. Dick just hoped she wouldn't say no.

"Then... I'll do whatever it is you do during the Superbowl." Truthfully, he didn't care much for the actual game. So much as spending time with his team. And Raven. His team did include Raven. He walked into the dimly lit space, hearing the door close behind him.

"But, Dick, it's once a year." She said sarcastically. Her eyes glimmering in the dark.

"I know." Dick took another step closer.

"And the rest of your team is currently in the living room consuming enough grease to flood the city."

"I know."

"Alright. But I should warn you - you should know..." Raven started in that vague mysterious way of hers. "There is one thing you should know about this 'American holiday'."

Oh?

"I've heard stories, and I don't think you could shock me." Dick told her. "But you're welcome to try."

He could swear he saw her blush for a moment. But then, it was gone."There is an overwhelming amount of testosterone in the air on this day."

"I... don't follow." He didn't expect her to say anything like this. What was she getting at?

She elaborated in her low voice. "On this day, the concentration of testosterone in the city - and most of America reaches a fever pitch."

"Raven what are you saying - exactly?" He watched her closely. Still not understanding. Or perhaps understanding too well.

"We empaths have a holiday of our own. We call the Superbowl a Nexus... Save for the fact that it gets relatively untapped." She raised a brow. "Partners typically don't reap the benefits..."

"That isn't Valentine's Day?" Dick came back to himself for a moment to mumble stupidly.

"No." She gave him a light chuckle. "Surprisingly not."

"Doesn't it depend on whether a particular team loses or not...?"

"Touche, Dick... But, no." Raven's hands moved to her hips, as she shifted her weight. "On such a day, there is a risk of tapping into the Nexus. Channeling it - directly or unconsciously. Usually I am not concerned. But with you here... In my room... "

"I want to stay." He said without pause.

"You can say that, but you don't know. I'm not going to be as in control as I usually am." Raven replied. Though she didn't seem bothered. He could swear she wanted him to stay. "I'll be a bit more aggressive than you're used to. And you'll feel it too."

Dick took a step closer and shook his head. "I'm staying with you."

And that was all it took for things to turn.

Her emotionless expression shifted. The purple depths stirred. As the eyes that held but an occasional flicker of daring. A hint of mischief. A tiny tinge of sadness. They turned as a thirsty stare took over. Her pupils dilated. She watched his body movements openly. "And I'm..." She traced his face and weaved his hair between her fingers. She gripped it, bringing him closer. Her tone sultrier and raspier than normal. "I'm going to kiss you now, Dick."

"Oh..." Dick whispered. Unable to take his eyes off her. "Raven..."

"I want the taste of your lips..." Her porcelain nose caressed his own. The words brushing over his cheek.

"Yes..." He looked like he was in awe. Under a spell. "I want to kiss you." He licked his lips.

Her hands escaped the strands of night. Raven fingered his neck, as she drew her body into him. Right up to his firm chest. The pale lids started shutting and a steady journey to his mouth started. A deep, desperate inhale as they touched. He groaned into her fullness. Those soft, incredible lips moving with his. Her cool hands were fondling him over the tight black t-shirt he was wearing. Dick's hands tried not to stray too far from the middle of her back.

And of course - they failed.

It wasn't long before they ventured. They were exploring her waist and hips. Touching the space where her shirt rode up, feathering the sliver of skin. When Raven finally stopped, for a breath, she blinked to refocus the hazy purple. And gave him a little smile. He could see just a bit of smugness on her part, as she could tell how much this was affecting him too. But she didn't mention it.

"Wow, we've..." He panted, staring at her. She was now laying on her side on the mattress. "Never done that before."

She whispered, "I know." Nibbling his bottom lip, naughtily. "It's true we'd never really kissed before. Not properly..." Her hand cupping his cheek as she stroked his lips sweetly. It took everything he had to stop. Yet, he only managed to steal back an inch.

"I know... But... I wanted to." He had wanted to kiss her properly for ages. They'd a few close calls. Several. And then there was Christmas... Nervous, obligatory pecks under the mistletoe, with their teammates around. Watching and judging. But that hardly counted.

"Wanted to?" The pale fingers gliding down his earlobe. He shivered. And sighed. He took a deep breath. "Are you not enjoying this?"

"Of course, I am. It's great. So great... Too great." And then a shaky, wavering smile took up residence on his face. This was such a contrast to how she normally was. "I know why, but sometimes you just feel...distant. More than distant - removed."

A hand was on his face as she spoke. "This goes without saying, but it's not you." Raven told him in a soft voice. "If anything, I've probably been more so... because I do want to - be around you. Often."

Dick kissed her hard, until they were both panting and shaking. "Then, promise me."

"A promise?" Raven asked, her eyes flickering playfully. "What do you propose?"

"Promise me when the Nexus is over - we're not." He urged her. Dick wanted her to need him for something. To seek solace with him. In him. "Come find me, when you want to talk. Or when you need me." Sliding his fingers through her hair. "Please... I can't imagine not touching you like this... Not kissing you."

He groaned gutural, as her mouth took him over. "I promise, I'll find you for another talk." Raven's hands stroked up and down his abdomen, as her lips parted. In wonder. About his body. She was wondering about what lay beneath. He didn't want her to wonder anymore. Dick caught the cotton fabric of his shirt in his fingers and stripped it off. Cool hands were on his skin immediately. Followed by her lips on his. And the stroke of a skilled tongue.

She was straddling him on her bed, as they kissed. His palms were lost in the sea of her shirt. He was longingly fingering the indents right above her butt.

But then...

"Raven?!"There was a knock at the door.

Starfire squealed. Informing her, animatedly. "Raven - the pool, you have won!" And then, she paused. "Raven?"

Dick grinned, as she rolled her eyes. Raven and Nightwing stared at each other. He knew she hadn't won, because he had. This push and pull between them. Between their lips and bodies. Their connected souls... It was the only game he had ever been intrigued by. 

The enigma that was her.

[thewindsofsong]

@cross-d-a tagged me like 2 days ago. This took me waaay too long to do

rules: answer 30 questions and tag however many blogs you want!

name: thewindsofsong, wind, windy, song, twos, but mainly thewindsofsong. Pretty much everywhere I’m on the internet I am thewindsofsong. 

gender: she/her

star sign: aries

height: 5’4”. I think?

time: 12:46 pm

birthday: april 10th

favorite bands: uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…………. I dont even know anymore. Is florence and the machine a band or solo artist? Pentatonix? 

favorite solo artists: Regina Spektor, Mitski 

last movie: Legend of Loulan (with Liu Chang)

last show: Ultimate Note. Very good, highly recommend 

when did i create this blog: 2012? I think?

what i post: mostly reblogs of very random stuff (hence the blog name) but increasing the amount of original posts, mostly centered around 

last thing i googled: how to translate “old cat lady” into chinese

other blogs: There’s twoscats where i reblog all the cute animals on my dash. I used to have that queu filled up to the brink, but its lucky to have 1-2 posts a day now...

do i get asks: Not really. The one’s I’ve gotten are usually the “pass this on!” type which are really sweet to get, but then I never remember to do anything with…. 

why i chose my url: thewindsofsong has been my online username since basically forever. I think of it as my online self’s name. To use anything else would almost feel like misnaming myself at this point.

following: 128. I go through and unfollow inactive blogs pretty regularly and I like keeing the number around 100. I don’t think I’ve ever gone over 150.

followers: 642. More than 2/3s of them are probably deactivated/dead blogs that haven’t been active in years. Its what happens when you’re tumblr is old i guess

instruments: I did learn piano but haven’t really played in years. Did percussion back when i was in school, but haven’t been able to do that in years either. I have a ukulele that I pick up every once in a while

what i am wearing: pjs. I’ve been wearing pjs for months now. I don’t want to start wearing regular cloths again.

dream job(s): housewife? I was working like a productive human until covid happened and I burned out of my job like a sparkler. I’d think being an artisanal soap maker would be fun.

dream trip: Japan would be a lot of fun. My Japanese is a horrible, terrible thing, but it’d be enough to get around with a good translation app. I’d like to go back to China some time too to visit family, but that side of the family is SO MUCH and I am easily overwhelmed.

favorite foods: I don’t know if i really have a favorite food? I like garlic a lot. Mushrooms are also really good but my partner hates them. Tomato and egg stir fry on rice is a comfort food from childhood

nationality: american

favorite song: None currently, mostly because I’ll listen to anything in particular at the moment.

last book i read: Does fanfic count? If not, then I’m currently reading a translation of ChongQi. I really don’t read books anymore… just fanfiction….

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: star trek because capitalism doesn’t exist there any more. I could be the lazy bum I’ve always wanted to be there. Next would probably be the Unsleeping City  from D20.  Magical NYC just seems like it would be so much fun; not to mention that if I managed to learn prestidigitation, I’d open a laundromat and clean laundry at very low costs and therefor, very low price. Considering my current obsession, I feel like I have to say DMBJ for the last one. I’d never go down into a tomb because I’d die instantly. I’d go to school and specialize in grief counseling and then make bank specializing in tomb robbers. Last would be Yuuri on Ice universe because then I could see the epic romance between the world’s top male figure skaters happen in real life.

Tagging: whoever wants to do this?

[eve6262]

★basement of stars★

  Why me?

  If I curl up into a ball I start to float, dress refusing to follow the rules of physics. The stars stare back at me; I wish they would judge me, so that I knew anything. Instead, they watch without an ounce of emotion in their gazes. I know the stars feel; Lei’Threta told us so when she was still alive. May our Goddess forever live within our beating hearts.

  May the Goddess forever live within my beating heart.

  I still remember the day she died. That grand dragon, with stars dancing in her scales, eyes a galaxy whenever she mustered the strength to open them. Those days, she barely ever did. Some of our elders told the tales of Lei’Threta flying about for the whole day, looking upon the world and its people with unadulterated affection.

  She made one last trek to the city when she died. There, in the arms of the grand priestess, an immortal bastion holding what we thought was our eternal salvation, Lei’Threta laid to rest. Her wings stopped moving, her heart stopped beating, the stars in her scales all slowly blinked away until it was pure black.

  The head priestess led us to Lei’Threta’s final gift- with her death she cast the last spell, to stop the world from changing from day to night so we could finally go to the sunset. That was the first request anyone had given her- “I want to find the sunrises’s glow.” And while Lei’Threta often laughed at such silly things before explaining why they could not be achieved, this had given her such hidden grief that she could not complete it that, upon the eve of her passing, she granted it.

  The head priestess showed us the world our Goddess had left for us- a world that was beneath? above? inside our planet, walls coated in stars, malleable and sturdy as granite mixed with butter, and so very reminiscient of our late drake. We could make trips to the surface, but soon those decreased.

  First the water dried up. We had already brought some underground, and so we found a way, through magic and conservation, to create an infinite source. It did not agree with some of the older population, though; they perished, and were mourned as sacrifices so that we may live.

  The head priestess was rumored, at this time, to have been able to forsee this. Every other priestess disavowed these- since when had she the powers of an oracle? Yet it turned out she had these, as a parting gift somewhere in this labrynthine home left by our late Goddess. I wonder, did she see this very end? Did she see me, floating alone here, wishing perhaps for death, and wish that was her? Did she truly want to live?

  Next the plants died. The head priestess had forseen this, and we had already started growing plants underground; still, these underground plants were considerably weaker, and some of the larger population needed more nutrients. They died out; now that I reflect upon it I am sure some of them were killed. I suppose it matters not now.

  The plants taste like nothing. We brought down three main crops- a root, a skyfruit, and a classic berry bush loved for its desserts. The roots grew, and grew, and became so large that even stewing them for days they were still tough as nails. They tasted mildly like dirt, mostly like stones. The skyfruit hovered atop the growing area, long rods of nutrient that should have tasted like clouds and the air, but instead tasted like slop, very distinctly like mud but without even an earthy hint.

  The berries, some thought, would surely be the same. Poisonnies were the same no matter what; surely they would make the same beautiful jams we were used to. Anything that needed to be baked was gone, because the roots had to be stewed for so long it would be inefficient to cook anything without pots. And yet those beautiful, sweet berries became tangy poison and killed indiscriminately, and thus were banned and thrown outside. This was the only trip made outside, and the one that brought us to the conclusion.

  At some point the air itself became unbreathable. We made injections to kill the parasites that swam through the air, no longer protected by whatever we had relied upon so long ago. The head of the underground demanded we protect ourselves; I don’t know why. No one left anymore; it was only her ceremony, her demands that told us to go outside, her insanity in getting rid of the damned berries. Apparently people were vying for a chance to injest poison.

  Then, I wondered why. Now I wish we’d kept them. It would be more worthwhile than this hellscape. Floating alone, in this godforsaken underground we have so created, only staying out of some feeling of duty, some sense of purpose that I have long since lost but my subconscious still clings to like a puppy hanging to the edge of a cliff. I will fall.

  I am falling, now.

  My feet touch the ground. When did I lose my shoes? The floor is cold, uncaring, unloving. The stars watch me without an ounce of emotion, and I wish they would judge me, because at least then I would know that I have done something wrong. As it is now I am trying to remember how this all happened; what have I forgotten? What have we done? What did we do before? Was there a before?

  Have we always struggled for survival? Surely not; I remember something, vaguely. Flowers- yes, flowers, I decorated my room with flowers always, before this place. This place has no flowers. Surely the aboveground has had flowers, and surely we lived there. I cannot remember, but my feet take me anyway.

  Our engineers had nothing better to do, so back when we still looked for resources- what was it again?- above ground, they built a navigation system. A hologram of the planet sits daintily above a table in the center of everything. I look around on it.

  What is that structure? When did that exist? Have I lived there? I vaguely recognize the shape of it; perhaps that is the old city. City. We lived in a city, I remember this now. The height of the skyscrapers was only rivaled by the beauty of our land. Gorgeous, I remember it now; but there is still something I have forgotten.

  I do not need the vaccines against the parasites. I have taken it before; either it will or won’t work. I don’t care.

  Our leader died second to last, looking at me with spite in her eyes as she starved. Her body refused to eat the slop any longer. Mine still carried on. I cannot fathom why. Perhaps she did, in the end, envy my end. She should never have thought such a thing.

  A teleporter brings me to the surface.

  There, in the center of the city, where I had unthinkingly pressed on the map, is the corpse of a giant dragon. Wilted flowers decorate a path she? he? it must have traversed. Its scales are black as coal, or ink, or the darkness among the stars of the underground. It has been dead for centuries, I think. Or maybe months. Time is hard to tell.

  The world looks beautiful otherwise. The city is overgrown; concrete is now crumbled rubble, with vines and flowers, and all sorts of flora forming tapestries against bleak canvases. I hear the noises of the fauna called out to me, and yet I cannot help but stare at this drake.

  A drake? Celebrated? And I cannot even remember her- Her. It is a her. Yes, that I remember- I cannot remember what she looked like, her name, anything, but I remember another thing- the high priestess, that was why we followed that woman. I know now, distinctly, that the high priestess was not the character we all revered; this was the source of all of our praises, should have been, anyway.

  So I walk up to the drake and hold her snout in my arms and hold. And I cry and cry and cry the days away, until I can no longer. And I look into her body and I apologize another thousand times, for a sin I cannot comprehend because I cannot remember, God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why would you take my memory like this? Is there a god here? Has one ever existed?

  I start to walk away. I hear the a breath of a drake behind me. As I turn around, it rises, slowly, as though it has been kept in stone for years to come.

“A...survivor?”

She looks at me. Small stars start to dot her scales, slowly, like they are scared to come into existence. Her eyes are a galaxy that move with her, as though I am peering through a lens into another world. Her wings stretch out, surely atrophied, and I see the glory of the underground with none of the gore within them.

“Ahh...Alice, I think it was.”

“Yes.”

“I must ask you.”

“What is it?”

“How have you brought me back?”

“I...have?”

“You must have. I was dead.”

“...I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“That woman led us all into the underground, into death. You were the original creator of this world, weren’t you?”

“Have you forgotten it all?”

“Aside from this, yes.”

“Tell me the tale, then. And I will tell you who I am.”

“May I at least get a name, first?”

“Of course. I am Lei’Threta, Goddess of this world.”

---

inspired by message lost by ferry on yt [link]

[gasolinenfire]

name: thomas booker ‘ judas ‘ pearson nicknames: judas , yes , that’s it. really , he won’t respond to anything else. age: forty six sexuality: demisexual pronouns: he / him , cismale species: mage / pyromancer occupation: owner of judas’ auto joint / mechanic / bounty hunter / jack of all trades & handy man / ex-death blade sign:  capricorn spotify: coming soon pinterest: here

i really didn’t expect to pick up a third character , but it’s nary F.K.A. snottie back again with another long ass late af intro thanks to lock down. i have had judas for a very long time , but he has def been tweaked and edited here or there to fit into the vainglory plot. if you think he seems familiar , he probably is. anyway , onward to the more interesting and important stuff like a handsome pyromancer mechanic under the cut.

── the high council is prepared to hear the story of THOMAS BOOKER ' JUDAS ‘ PEARSON , we might of mistaken them as NORMAN REEDUS they’re known as a MAGE / PYROMANCER while noted as a WANDERER / EX-DEATHBLADE. appearances may be deceiving , with immortality being so common among supernaturals. this being has walked the earth for FORTY SIX years , and their face reflects an age of FORTY SIX. the holy war with the noctis has forced them to stay in new tallinn. you will find them residing in BLIGHTBIRD

once they were known as a MECHANIC & OWNER OF JUDAS’ AUTO JOINT to blend in with the mortal crowd. now , you might find them as a BOUNTY HUNTER to prepare for the unholy war against the noctis. they plan to FIGHT AGAINST the noctis with the hopes to RESTORE.

PERSONALITY.

element: earth ruling planet: saturn -- the planet of discipline & maturity body part(s): knees , skin , bones & teeth good day: loyal , family-oriented , hardworking , devoted , honest , fearless , genuine bad day: proud , impulsive ,  bossy , stubborn , reckless , jealous , pessimistic , unforgiving , cold , antisocial , guarded  favorite things: the smell of leather , road trips ( on hand built bikes ) , dark liquor , chain smoking , hot showers , his bed , hamburgers , goals / projects , being in charge , exclusive clubs , motorcyles , tattoos , scars  least favorite things: his time as a deathblade , losing , large gatherings of people , strangers , rules , authority , the high council , deep or large bodies of water , quitting , shouting in public , careless mistakes  secret wish: to have every need taken care of how to spot him: forehead covered by greasy or sweaty bangs , distinctive jaw , strong teeth , wise look in his eyes , gruff voice , rough grease stained hands where you’ll find him: enjoying quality time in his personal garage , working obsessively on a large-scale bike project , at work , drinking at a bar ,  keywords: willpower , initiative , determination , passion , ambition , goals , security , stability , comfort

a measured master planner , judas’ has the power of structure , delayed gratification and setting goals for the long haul.

this mage is willful and determined , focused on the loftiest goals. he sets his mind on an outcome , and will reach the finish line. it may be an epic “ hero’s journey ” to get there , which is why he has his steely grit and unparalleled resilience. 

taking the road less traveled isn’t how this traditional man rolls. instead , judas maps out the straightest and simplest route to the top , then sticks to its plan. even if it takes a little more time to get there without shortcuts , the ambitious pyromancer will make the trek. 

the essence of his energy is loyal , structured , family-oriented ( though he won’t exactly admit it ) , hardworking , devoted , honest, and paternal among other personality traits. 

negative expressions of his energy can be pessimistic , unforgiving , cold , materialistic , snobbish , elitist , overly serious , etc. judas’ energy can even be considered overly harsh or calculating on occasion. 

the dutiful side of him can be his downfall , the stoic handy man may repress a lot to be the “ rock ” for others which can lead to a heavy or burdened energy he tries to mask.

judas combines a rock-solid foundation and skillful plans into a high rise penthouse fit for world domination , but he wouldn’t know it. he’s extremely humble.  

a master strategists ex-deathblade and owner of his own business , who always keeps one eye on a five- or ten-year plan. motivated to take on big goals and create structures in his life that will last the test of time.

he is known for being stern and authoritative on occasion , you definitely don’t want to try and get under this fire wielder. i guess you could say that he is the “ daddy ” type , and wants to be respected for his command. 

additionally , another keyword for the mechanic could be repression , which can make his urges come out in shocking or subversive ways. don’t be surprised if judas has a few freaky secrets under the stoic exterior.

he is a leader and “ idea person ” , prizing originality and liking to be first in everything he does. count on the handyman in him to initiate a winning idea or plan.

( tw: blood ment. , alcohol ment. ) busy , busy ! you can find judas enjoying quality time with ‘ family ‘ ( blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb ) throwing back a beer , working obsessively on a large-scale project ( most likely involving something auto ) , chilling in his garage tinkering around on something listening to classic rock , or hunting supernatural criminals / fugitives for bounty. 

( tw: alcohol ment. , drug ment. ) whether he’ll admit it or not , he tends to like mixing business with pleasure ( don’t be surprised if you catch him having a beer or joint at the shop ). it isn’t too often , but he does tend to develop tight bonds with people he meets on the job or through projects similar. 

he could be loosely considered one of the “ popular people ” around town , seeing as he’s sort of the jack of all trades that you can hire for relatively cheap to fix just about anything. his eyes were born with the eyes on the prize , he’s always had to provide for and rely on himself so he knows how to do so.

once judas sets his sights on something , he begins to climb slowly and steadily toward that goal. though often he becomes so focused on reaching the finish line that he can fail to pay attention to the journey , looking neither to the right nor the left. 

this man believes that if he just keeps pushing ahead , eventually he’ll get what he wants. judas honestly just needs to learn flexibility and to listen more to his heart than his head at times if he wants to feel fulfilled inside and out. 

ambitious as he may be , he hasn’t and doesn’t always have relentless drive. when he slips into lounge mode the mechanic can relax with the best of ’em , becoming practically immobile. work hard , play hard is definitely ( one of ) his modus operandi. 

other times , he can overwhelm himself by setting such impossible goals that he gets discouraged and gives up before he even leaves the starting gate. judas does best when he breaks his grand plans into measurable action steps. 

any friends the mage has could remind him to celebrate his victories — not just the huge ones but the small triumphs and milestones along the way.

BACKGROUND.

thomas booker pearson had his life turned upside-down in an instant when his true lineage was violently revealed. it ripped him from his family and the only life he had ever known.

it didn’t begin this way , it began on a strangely frigid december night forty-six years ago when a little , screaming babe was born into the world. as this little boy grew up his parents came to realize just how strange he was.

the magic comes from his mother and her side of the family , while his mother never displayed any sign of being a mage his grandmother had been a powerful one. apparently , the gift – or curse if you reference thomas’ mother – of magic skipped generations and it had passed right by olivia on to her son.

growing up for the little boy was anything but normal , but thomas knew no different and this didn’t affect him too much so he thought. his mother kept magic and the supernatural world a secret from him as long as she could in the hopes that they were wrong and she could suppress his powers , but it was all in vain.

strange things always seemed to happen to or around thomas though , things that couldn’t be explained but his mother found ways to dismiss despite the evidence against her. all these occurrences became more severe , more frequent , over the course of his teenage years but he had found that going up to the rooftop at night to look at the stars had a way of calming him down.

starlight wasn’t his only source of happiness either , most days you could find the young man out in the garage tinkering with anything that had an engine. his love for motorcycles has no bounds.

( tw: drug ment. , suggested child neglect ) his family comes from a long line of poor individuals , but he had grown accustomed to it. his mother and father were very rarely around , his mother was afraid of him and his father spent more time with his backward ass hillbilly cousins or doped up somewhere than at home.

so,  thomas busied himself with anything auto , stargazing , and sooner than later – the way of the wiccans. maybe it was magical intuition or just luck , but the mage came across the wiccan faith and fell into it easily. it was like finding where he belonged , he no longer felt ostracized or like the black sheep he was of his family.

( tw: fire ment. ) that was when it all went downhill , one day when he was practicing his pyromancy – which he found he had an affinity for – and was caught by none other than his mother. his mother’s reaction wasn’t very pleasant , and their argument was intense and volatile. so much so that the emotion thomas was feeling literally manifested itself in actual flames , enveloping his entire body.

( tw: fire ment. , accidental arson , death ment. , death by fire ment. ) being a novice he had no way of knowing how to stop it. the fire left the house in ruin and that was the last straw , his mother was ultimately trapped inside and burned alive. after that the mage was on his own , he left town immediately and luckily there was never a way to actually connect her death to him.

thomas was left feeling lost and confused , but like he finally had a chance to start over and live his own life. he quickly found himself in the supernatural community , but figuring out how to live his life involved in it was more difficult than he thought.

he was only twenty years old and found himself very proud of his supernatural ability , suddenly very invested in the community and wanting to serve in the easiest way he knew how which was in combat. he viewed the deathblades as some form of justice and was easily manipulated into doing everything in his power to be appointed one , he was successful and worked as a deathblade for decades.

now at forty-six he has ’ retired ’ and lives in haapsula , estonia where he owns his very own auto shop. while not nearly as dangerous as before , he can be dangerous to be around when he lets his emotions take over and his capabilities should not be underestimated nor tested.

HEADCANONS.

on top of being a mechanic he is also a professional bounty hunter as something of a side hustle. so , if you need any supernatural monster , fugitive or criminal rangled , judas is your man. he’s pretty much down to get paid to do just about anything , fix your sink , put together furniture , install a/c ? just give him a price , he’s basically your token jack of all trades handyman.

( tw: fire ment. ) he left his past behind him after the fire , thomas booker pearson burned away that day and since he only goes by judas. it’s highly unlikely anyone even knows him as anything else.

( tw: cigarette ment. ) he is a chain smoker , he doesn’t care that it is killing him either. he hates when people tell him that it’s a bad habit or the like , he knows.

judas loves tattoos and a lot of his extra spending money has gone to them. he admires other forms of body modification , but sticks to tattoos and his few scarification tattoos.

even when he tries to clean up , he looks dirty. he is almost always covered in grease or oil from actual work at the shop or just working on his own little projects at home. it’s his aesthetic though and it works ??

i honestly have been working on this intro for hours now at this point and i am wore the fuck out , my eyes are sore af. i’m ready to go make something to eat ( it’s freaking midnight rn ) and then i’m gonna watch another episode of tiger king before taking my happy ass to bed. if you’re at all interested in plotting with my mans then definitely hmu on discord or in my tumblr ask / dms. 

[lordmartiya]

Fox Rain chapter 4

@lilanette-week

@supermenteuse

@emblian

@starcrossed-stardust

@supermenteuse

@theitalianscribe

@lilanette

@thekitsune

The aftermath of prince Ali outing Papillon as a pedophile, and the start of other troubles. Plus some worldbuilding-the one thing I truly excel at as a writer-though a bit hidden. And… Well, I can’t say I didn’t have fun with the Akuma.

Chapter 04: Leprotta

As he woke up for the day, Gabriel acted as if he was to work on his design or the company as usual, or rather as expected. In truth, he had a different job to do: keep up his Papillon persona. While he was dimly aware that assaulting Paris to steal magical jewelry from what happened to be two teenagers (one of which he had even suspected was his own son) to use their magic to save his wife at the price of someone else’ life was not a sane thing to do, he purposefully kept his supervillain character highly psychotic and petty, someone who’d attack anyone for slights and insults-a persona he had to keep more often than he liked due the Parisians not having changed much since they developed a martial art just to pick fights with street gangs the police couldn’t control(1).

And so now he had to make it seem he had just found out Lila Rossi and her princely friend had outed him as a pedophile, and take his “revenge” by sending Akumas after them. Them and Rossi’s classmate Marguerite Lanivien (or something like that) for good measure. He wondered how long it would take for them to “scare him off”…

“Remember, if there’s trouble call us.” Lila’s father said. “We’ll come to help-and I’d like a go at that worm.” he continued, punching his right fist in the open left. “Assuming Hartmann doesn’t arrive first-she’s fast, and I’ve a few things to do today…”

“No problem.” Lila replied. “Where’s mother? She was supposed to have a day off.”

“She left after a phone call. She said it was big, and you know how that goes…”

“Yes. I do.”

With that Lila left for school, wondering what would ever get that woman to help emotionally-and what would Papillon send after them.

“OK, this is getting ridiculous.” Vorpika said as she sat before a knocked out Rose Bride.

“And you’ve been around for what, a week?” Chat replied before noticing what the newest hero had said. “I take this isn’t the first time, then.”

“Third in four days.”

“Too bad it wasn’t in consecutive days, Papillon wouldn’t Akumatize her for at least two weeks after that-his humor is weird like that. Oh, here she is. Hey, Buginet-” Ladybug nearly kicked the downed Akuma villain, and had to make a visible effort not to strike her. “What happened? Aside poor sleep because of what Papillon would do and Rose Bride.”

“I’ve got a friend in Beijing right now, and she’s not answering the phone.” Ladybug replied as she purified Rose Bride and (reluctantly) called for a Lucky Charm to heal her from the head damage caused by her partners.

“Wait, what happened in Beijing?” Vorpika asked.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Well, I nearly overslept, and…”

Vorpika pulled her flute and its computer function, and saw the news: a gigantic terrorist attack in Beijing, targeting the Forbidden City and the area around its Gate of Divine Might-that is, the place where her friend had been shooting and residing during the job. And in spite of the massive damage there were only four victims, two being the attackers and the other two unknown. No other details were available yet, only a rumor that one of the unidentified victims was Japanese.

“Ommerda… Gotta go, bye!”

As soon as she was hidden she used her dizi to try and call the Tiger multiple times (and barely remembering to make it appear it had come from her phone), to no avail, before surrendering and going to class. And somehow arriving later than Marinette, who was apparently nearly always late.

Lila hadn’t paid much attention to the classes, partly wondering when Papillon’s next attack would come and partly worried for her friend. At the lunch break, at least, she saw her friend had just updated her social accounts, explaining the People’s Armed Police(2) had confiscated her phone and was interrogating her as the one witness, and had just given her back the phone. One less worry… And a classmate to keep safe.

“Rose, you need to come with me to the Italian embassy, at least for today.” she stated.

“Uh… Why?”

“Because Lustro was the one who outed the Terror Bowtie, Papillon” she had to specify as apparently Rose hadn’t heard the nickname yet “as a pedophile… And we would be targets for collateral revenge.” That and the terrorist was likely offended he didn’t get to groom her into a villain, but Lila decided her classmate didn’t need to know that. “It won’t keep you safe from Akuma attacks, but it’ll gain you time-sending an Akuma too close to an embassy and the various ministries would be suicidally stupid, and that terrorist sadly is not an idiot.”

“But-”

“ROSE LAVILLANT! I AM THE FLORIST! SHOW YOURSELF AND PAY FOR MISUSING A FLOWER’S NAME!”

“Do you see the necessity now?” Lila asked before dragging the target away and hiding her in the nearest bathroom.

“Didn’t think an Akuma villain so scary-looking would have been so weak.” Chat quipped after the Florist had been taken care of. “At least we’ve filled our weekly quota of ridiculous villains.”

“LILA ROSSI! I AM INARISAMA! SHAVE YOUR HEAD AND REPENT FOR DEFILING FOXES WITH YOUR HAIRSTYLE! OH, AND YOU TOO, VORPIKA!”

Ladybug and Vorpika both shot dirty looks at Chat Noir.

“LIE-LA! HOW YOU DARE SAYING I’M FAT! I, STUNNER(3), WILL MAKE YOU PAY!”

“Honestly, if I wanted to insult someone I’d say something better.” Lila quipped as she hid to transform and deal with the fourth Akuma of the day.

“MWA-HA-HA! GIVE ME YOUR MIND CONTROL PERFUME, LAVILLANT! ONLY I, THE JEANNIE, DESERVE TO MARRY PRINCE ALI!”

Rose took down that Akuma villain herself-turned out her perfume (that under Akumatization had indeed brainwashing abilities) was highly explosive in the right conditions, and the girl had taken offense at the villain’s demand. And while her reaction made her the first person who could claim to have knocked out an Akumatized villain, Rose got banned from bringing any perfume at school. Lila convinced her it had been inevitable just in time to keep her from being Akumatized… And redirecting the Akuma on someone else.

“I’ll get the power to enforce safety rules in exchange for two jewels that could interfere with safety in the lab? It’s a win-win!” miss Mendeleiev said as she was about to be Akumatized-right before Ladybug broke her Akumatized labcoat.

“Sorry, but Papillon is having a pettiness fit-I’ll restore it later, OK?” Ladybug said before leaving without letting the science teacher reply.

“HA! YOU’LL STOP INTERRUPTING MY LESSONS, PAPILLON! JUST WAIT WHEN I’LL FIN-”

Papillon retired his Akuma from the Educator, reverting her to miss Bustier(4).

“Let me get this straight-it’s the second time you get this because people can’t spell headcanon right?” Vorpika asked her colleagues, this being an Akuma villain with a cannon-as in a Napoleonic artillery piece-for a head, cannon that turned people’s heads into cannons with writings such as “Ladybug and Chat Noir are dating”, “Majesta designed her own costume but can’t sew” and “Tokyo V is a nerdy male gamer in a drag” embossed on them(5).

Ladybug just nodded and destroyed the akumatized notebook. “I get Rose Bride, but why did Papillon bring this one back?”

“If only that other writer hadn’t calmed down…” Papillon said to himself. “Well, I’ll do Reverser another time. Now, who’s next? Oh, this guy will do.”

“LILA, MY BELOVED! IT IS I, THE HEALER! FEAR NOT, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO LOVE ME ONCE I’VE CURED YOU OF THE PERVERSE LUST FOR THAT TWINTAILED GIR-”

Papillon retired his Akuma, leaving a newly discovered homophobe at the mercy of the class.

“Nooroo, we’re both getting showers, and you’ll clean the Miraculous before we go in again.” Gabriel ordered his Kwami. “How did I miss he was one of them?!”

“After you’re done I suggest a repeat of the fun Akuma.” Natalie said before putting down the Kwami food she had brought.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S THE TWELFTH TIME?!” Vorpika shouted in understandable indignation.

“Well, I really like pigeons, but the city won’t let me take care of them and that makes me vulnerable to Akumatizations.” Xavier Ramier replied. “And as horrible as it sounds, Papillon has a point-if I cannot, who’ll take care of the pigeons?”

Vorpika seemed to have ideas, but bit her tongue rather than saying it out loud.

“The city, of course-yesterday Daddy managed to pass an ordnance to hire falconers to deal with the pigeon problem.”

Chloe, however, had no such compulsions, as her shout from the class’ window pointed out. Thankfully, Ladybug intercepted the Akuma and Vorpika managed to explain Ramier that if pigeons could eat batteries and survive then they didn’t need much help.

“LILA! MY FOX! IT’S ME, DAE WOONG, AN-”

Vorpika landed on the newest Akuma villain.

“Surprised it took him so much to homage My Girlfriend Is a Nine-Tailed Fox(6)…” she commented as an increasingly irritated Ladybug arrived to purify this one too.

“I AM HOTCOCK007(7)! THE STAR TREK FAN CLUB WILL PAY FOR EXPELLING ME WHEN I ASKED WHERE THE LIGHTSABERS WERE!”

Ladybug used him to demonstrate she had a decent grasp of the one-two Vorpika had taught her.

“OUT! OUT OF MY HEAD! YOU AREN’T GETTING ME, OUT!”

The Akuma fled out of Marinette’s earring, leaving her classmates in stunned awe.

“Marinette… Sposame.” Lila said, the first to recover. Then she realized she had just proposed to Marinette and that word in Romanesco was close enough to standard Italian that she had likely understood it, and hit the desk with her forehead.

Papillon blinked, still surprised at what had just happened. A girl had just rejected an Akuma. He was already vaguely familiar with Adrien having a classmate that was defiantly optimistic, but that she would be able to reject an Akuma…

“Nathalie! I need to know everything available about Adrien’s classmate, the one defiantly optimistic!” he shouted.

Half an hour later, Gabriel, who had detransformed for a while, realized two things: first, he needed to get her with Adrien, just by personality and willpower she was worthy of her son and could manage to get him off that annoying crush on Ladybug of his; second, the lessons were ending and he needed to get back at the Akumatizations now. Then he smiled-the school had just been reached by exactly the individual he needed.

“Can’t believe some in the other classes blame you for Papillon…” Rose said to Lila as they walked the corridors.

“Got enough experience with people to know it’s better ignore them.” Lila replied. “You, on the other hand, have just as much experience with the butterfly, you know he won’t end anytime soon unless he gets scared off or something else provokes him.” Lila said to Rose as they were leaving the classroom. “And at the embassy you’ll be relatively safe until I get the ball rolling on those fashion disasters that are his Akuma outfits.”

“I doubt he’ll fall for it again.” Rose replied. “He hasn’t been reacting to Le Parisien’s Akuma Fashion Tips column for over a month now(8).”

Lila stopped in her tracks, wondering what was wrong with the Parisians. Sure, Romans like her weren’t exactly saints or too sane, but continuing to piss off a supervillain was a bit too much…

“Typical.” an adult feminine voice said.

Lila turned to the unexpected but familiar voice, and saw the one she expected: a tall and well-built woman with tanned skin and long platinum-blonde hair wearing a classic and stylish suit, her attitude and face expression giving an impression of calm professionalism… That was ruined by her hair being worn in long rabbit-like twin tails and her right hand holding an old Winchester Model 1897 shotgun (complete with M1917 bayonet).

“Good day, colonel Hartmann, I didn’t expect you here.” Lila said to the woman.

“Your father couldn’t come and I had the time, so here I am.” the newly identified colonel Hartmann said. “Also, didn’t I tell you to call me-”

Hartmann was interrupted by the shouts of some students pointing at the sky, and, looking up, saw an Akuma that alternatively tried to get her and go away, a never before seen behavior from Papillon’s tools. Then, much to everyone’s shock, the woman caught the Akuma with her shotgun’s bayonet, that immediately turned black as the gun itself.

“Bella lì, cravattone.” the colonel greeted him in Italian, completely unfazed by the situation. “Sono la colonnella T-Akuma problem solved.”

That had been said after the Akuma flew out of the shotgun, the white indicating Papillon himself had purified it-much to the shock of everyone there except Lila and the colonel.

“As I was saying, you should call me Leprotta when I’m off duty.” colonel Hartmann said to the girl. “Now excuse me, but with the terrorist scared off I’d like to go back at the embassy and shoot a few shells.”

“No problem, col-Leprotta, Leprotta, I need to remember that.” Lila replied. “Thanks for your help.”

The colonel got in a car and left before anyone could recover enough to ask what had just happened. Then Alya did that.

“Lila, WHAT?!” she asked the Italian girl.

“Her nickname means “little hare”, she said she got it during cross-training with the Tuscania parachute regiment of the Carabinieri.” Lila explained with a smile.

“THAT WOMAN TRIED TO GET HERSELF AKUMATIZED AND PAPILLON REFUSED!”

“Oh, that… You see, I’m not sure who noticed first and how did the news was diffused, but Papillon, not being suicidally stupid, won’t Akumatize people with certain mind troubles, such as legitimate psychos, serial killers, and soldiers with PTSD even if they’re pretty much Akuma magnets-so every ministry and every embassy in Paris has some personnel that qualifies, such as the colonel, to keep Papillon from sending Akumas there. Won’t keep already Akumatized villains from attacking, but it’s something. Oh, Rose… It’s not necessary for you to come at the embassy anymore, but feel free to visit anytime. Everyone, bye.”

With those words Lila left, leaving behind a very surprised student body.

“I suggest everyone goes home to get some rest like I’m about to do.” Marinette said, trying to keep her calm after the stressful afternoon. Then, suddenly, she chuckled: “And imagine how Papillon is taking the scare for a good laugh.”

“Took them long enough, don’t you think Nooroo?” Gabriel said to his Kwami as he was going back to his studio.

“As you say, master.” Nooroo replied neutrally, knowing his actual opinion wasn’t requested. “What will you do with them now?”

“Nothing different than what I do with everyone else-Papillon has been “scared off”, after all. Now you can go to your alcove, today’s events inspired me for a contest.”

“You should really enroll at the Omega, especially after today.” the Tiger suggested Lila on the phone.

“Mother won’t let me, not after Selah.” Lila replied, dejected, as she walked through the embassy. She really missed that activity.

“Even if I could prove it’s the place that calmed me down? With pictures?”

“Maybe she’ll accept. I really need proper venting… By the way, how are you?”

“Worry not, I’m invincible!”

Lila was about to reply when she got an SMS from her mother telling her to hurry up, and decided it was better move. That, and send a message to Sorano, the Tiger’s own best friend-they both knew that nearly unstoppable girl too well to not see through her attempt to make it seem she was OK, and the other girl was where she could drag her to a doctor. Then, as she received the expected pictures from her friend, she reached the apartment her family was currently living at in the embassy’s guesthouse, and got a news she had feared.

“We’re moving out.” her father explained. “I’ve found an apartment not too distant from your school… Or an interesting place, the Omega Apacheria.”

“We’ve already talked about that.” her mother said with a note of finality.

“About that place… The Tiger said it’s the place that calmed her down-for a given value of calming her down, of course, but before that she was a terror.” Lila said, showing the pictures from her phone-and then waiting for the answer.

“Very well-we’ll let you try. But if there’s a repeat of that incident, we’ll pull you out.” her mother said.

It was the best Lila could expect given the circumstances-and a good news, at least, a chance at relaxing. The more relaxed she was, the better was the chance to get Papillon… And free the group for other jobs, she supposed. The news coming out of Beijing were reminding her that the world really needed a few miracles even out of Paris…

Notes

(1)Not making this up: between 1871 and 1914, the streets of Paris were infested by gangs of hooligans that were just too numerous for the police to fight… So the Parisians, who already liked fighting enough that French folk wrestling was also known as Lutte Parisienne, imported the original form of Savate (that had been already absorbing some techniques from French folk wrestling due the matches between Savateurs and wrestlers), added as much of wrestling as they could, a few things from English boxing, swordfighting (with sticks), and a few tricks of dirty fighting, and started engaging the gangs themselves. And now you know why Nora had it so easy to rally the Parisians to rescue the heroes now that the jerk who had been terrorizing the city for about a year was finally in the open…

(2)China’s gendarmerie (as opposed to the fully civilian Public Security Bureaus), with authority in terrorism cases.

(3)Homage to a minor Spiderman villain. Both in and out of universe.

(4(Blame quicksilversquared and her story “Sleepy Supervillainry” (written before season 2) for this. I had to pay her homage… With permission, of course.

(5)Blame quicksilversquared for this one too-story is “Headcan(n)on”.

(6)A Korean drama about a guy who, in the modern day, frees a nine-tailed fox from her century-long imprisonement only to have her impose herself as his girlfriend.

(7)A little homage to the novel Ready Player One. If you read it you’ll see why I (and, in-story, Gabriel) named this Akuma villain after the character.

(8)Again with quicksilversquared-the story is “Fashion Disaster”.

[aspiringarmstrong]

Star vs Destiny - Chapter 11

Marco emptied the boiling water into his water skins. He may be on a suicide mission, but he didn’t need to come down with a case of Montezuma's Revenge.

“It’s odd you only drink boiled water,” BuffFrog said.

“On our world, we have to purify the water so parasite and bacteria don't infect us,” Marco explained. Looking around the swampy forest, he was sure there was something nasty was waiting for him to ingest it.

“Ah, make sense. My grandmother once ate fish with parasite. Six weeks later, her belly burst opened and thousands of bugs covered the table.” BuffFrog reminisce. “It was a great feast for our family.”

“You… ate your grandmother?” Marco asked in horror. BuffFrog let out a chuckle.

“No… no… we ate the bugs. Grandmother still alive.” BuffFrog said. His leaned close to Marco, showing his a rather scary face. “My grandmother… she never dies.”

Marco didn’t know how to take that and turned back to his pot of water.

“Marco…” BuffFrog whispered and pointed up. There was a flying eyeball with bat wings staring at them.

“Toffee watches us.” He whispered.

Marco pulled a dagger from behind his cloak and threw it at the eyeball. It dodged the attack, but its wing was nicked, causing it to careen into the ground.

“Marco…” BuffFrog said with a pleading warning.

“He knows we’re coming for him now, There’s no turning back,” Marco said, recovering the eyeball. He looked dead into its center.

“You hear me Toffee? I’m coming for you! I’ll make you pay for everything you did!” Marco screamed and threw the eye on the ground. It flopped helplessly and let out a squeal as Marco’s foot crushed it.

BuffFrog looked away with a solemn gaze.

“Eyebat was longtime friend.” He said. “I will miss him.”

Marco stopped twisting his foot and turned to BuffFrog.

“I… I’m sorry. I assumed it was just a projection or something.” Marco said, regretting killing the creature.

“Was his birthday next week,” he said, picking up his friend and moved to the treeline. He turned his head to look back at him. “You assume many things Marco, this war… this will happen, but… losing good friend still hurts.”  

Marco watched BuffFrog fade into the forest to bury his friend. Marco shook off his guilt and continued with his water replenishment task.

OoOoO

Star, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, King and Queen Butterfly sat in one of the meeting room with a newly conscious Ludo. Star looked around for Glossaryck all day, but he couldn’t be found. Jackie was in her assigned room with guards outside, and Tom agreed to keep her company.

She didn’t want to even think about Tom right now and the whole mess she’d made with that. Jackie was slightly apprehensive to have him hang out, but if Toffee tried another attack, she would be the most likely target, and Tom was best suited to handle something like that.

At least… the best chance of surviving.

“Are those two insane?” Ludo screeched once he was apprised of the situation.

Mrs. Diaz cried into the barrel chest of her husband. Star’s parents regarded the others with a look of grave concern.

“What are we going to do?” Star asked.

“As much as I regret to say it… we should assemble the guards.” King Butterfly suggested. “I’ll send the word out to the other kingdoms. We’ll need to assault Ludo’s Castle as soon as we can.

“I’ll send word to the Magic High Commission,” Queen Butterfly said. “We’ll need all the firepower we can get.”

“I’ll help,” Ludo said, standing up on the table. Everyone glared at him. He cleared his throat and stood up as regally as he could. “I still have monster contacts who didn’t join me or Toffee. I’m sure I can convince them to join us.”

“I can call Princess Ponyhead and see if she can get her family help too,” Star suggested. She thought of her other friends, but none really had the fighting power they need, and she didn’t want to put them in danger.

“It’s a five-day trek through the forest to get to Ludo’s Castle.” King Butterfly said. “We all know how sturdy Marco is, but I worry he won’t survive that trip. Even in my prime… I’d have difficulty.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ludo said with a grin. “BuffFrog is with him, and if anyone can get him there in one piece, it'll be him.”

Ludo thought for a moment.

“Well… I can’t really tell if that’s good or bad… what’s better? Dying horribly in the forest, or dying horribly by Toffee’s hand?”

“No matter what,” Star interrupted. “We need to move now. He’s got a three days lead on us. Why can’t I just scissor us to the castle and meet him there?”

“Ah..haha” Ludo chuckled. “That’d be my fault.”

Star looked at the green chicken creature with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, only my scissors would let us in there. I’ve set up various portal traps that redirects anyone attempting to breach my borders into the bottom of a lava lake.” Ludo chuckled.

“How can he do that?” Star shouted. “Mom! How can he do that?”

Queen Butterfly shrugged.  

“I’ll talk to Hekapoo when she gets here… see if she can figure that out.”

Heckapoo is a being on the magic high council and the creator of the Interdimensional Scissors. Everyone who has a pair has met her and passed her test. Each set of scissors is designed for the owner specifically. She’s a rather aloof person, but Star liked her when she met her.

“I suggest we start getting our forces together,” King Butterfly said. “If Hekapoo can fix whatever Ludo’s done around his castle, then we can portal there quickly, otherwise it’s going to be a long and treacherous march.”  

“We’ll get Marco back.” Queen Butterfly said, reassuringly. Her expression didn’t quite seem to match her confident tone.

OoOoO

Toffee watched his screen black out when Marco’s foot crushed his spy. The other monsters around him seemed upset over the loss of their spy. He didn’t understand why the loss of such an insignificant being was affecting morale, but it didn’t matter.

Marco was coming… alone.

He grinned in delight.

He knew that the boy was going to be useful.

Even though BuffFrog survived his attack, it was inconsequential. The creature served his use. Ludo surely had succumbed to the poison, even if he didn’t, It really didn’t matter. Those pieces were off the board.

He has the wand. The Butterfly Army was on their way. He was sure the Magic High Commission was going to be there, along with a force from the underworld and whatever other Mewmans who were stupid enough to join them.

What was the earth term he heard?

Fish in a barrel.

He flexed his right hand, staring at his missing middle finger. Turning his gaze to the right, he smiled at the pedestal that held the wand and toasted his glass to it.

To his future rule… and revenge on Queen Butterfly

OoOoO

Jackie set down her cards with a grin.

“Full house! Aces over sevens!” she declared.

Tom grunted and threw his cards down.

“Sorry that you got stuck babysitting,” Jackie said.

“Nah, it’s not a problem. I get why they asked.” Tom said as he shuffled the cards. Jackie piled up the poker chips on her side and took the cards as he dealt them. “If Toffee used Star’s wand to control you again...”

“Yeah I’d get all possessed and my head will spin around like a pea soup sprinkler.” Jackie laughed. She was terrified by the idea, but she was trying to put her situation in a better light.

“The castle is really well protected. The only reason Toffee kept control was because Marco brought you in.” Tom explained. “But, I don’t know much about this guy. Queen Butterfly said he’s a real mastermind type… and he thinks like ten moves ahead.”

Jackie passed two cards and looked at her hand. It was three of a kind. Not that strong, but from Tom’s bewildered expression, she could make it work.

She added to the pot and gave him a wink.

“I get the rules to the game, but why do you keep on winning?” He said as he fumbled his cards around. He matched her bet.

“It’s more about reading people,” Jackie said and added more chips. “And taking risks.”

Tom matched her bet and chuckled.

“You sound like Star,” he said. Jackie grinned and added more to the pile. Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

“She never really talked much about your history…” Jackie said, adding another few to the pot. Tom seemed visibly agitated with the large pile of chips that had accrued. He changed his hand around a few times before matching.

“Honestly there’s not much to talk about. Ponyhead, Star and I were friends since kids. We dated for about a year, that felt like a lifetime ago but was only a few years ago. She was crazy, I was hot-tempered, Ponyhead… well, she hasn’t changed much.” Tom laughed. “I feel so stupid how I was used in all this, too. Honestly, part of this is my fault… I just, once I found out who Toffee really was, I couldn’t bring myself to really say much about it.”

“Oh?” Jackie said, adding more to the pile. “Do tell?”

Tom chuckled and matched her bet.

“I can see what you’re trying to do,” Tom said. “When I met back up with Star, I was trying to fix my anger.”

Jackie quietly listened. It seemed important, so she didn’t want to instigate another bet just yet.

“I used to have a counselor who would help me out. I thought if I fix myself for Star, she’d take me back.” Tom said. “It didn’t help much, because I realized I was doing it for her… not for me.”

“I see,” Jackie said. “Self-reflection can be good.”

“So, I found Toffee.” He said, ashamed. “My counselor told me he couldn’t do much for me and gave me his contact information.”  

“So… this evil mastermind… became your therapist?” Jackie said in shock. “Wow… that’s a lot to take in.”

“I know… I mean, he helped a lot with things. Aspects of myself I didn’t want to acknowledge.” Tom said, setting down his cards. “He helped me talk to Star and get close to her. Showed me how you can plant little seeds, and if you tend them gently, they will be able to grow into something powerful.”

Jackie leaned back and put her feet on the table.

“Yea, I guess I can see that,” Jackie said. “I mean, Marco’s been trying to plant his seed in me since kindergarten… wait… that sounded really bad.”

Jackie and Tom both erupted in laughter. They stopped for a moment and smiled at each other. She felt slightly guilty knowing what was going to happen to Tom once things settle down. He seemed like a really good guy.

“Are you worried about Marco?” Tom asked. He must have seen her worry and assumed it was about him.

“Yeah.” She said, throwing another chip in. “Are you?”

Tom matched her bet and nodded.

“All right, I call,” Jackie said and showed her three of a kind.

Tom grinned devilishly and showed a straight flush.

“What?” Jackie said astonished. “How?”

Tom whipped his hair back in a cool manner and threw on his shades.

“Well…  you are playing cards with a devil.” He grinned and took his winnings.

“Oh give me a break!” Jackie exclaimed with a chuckle. “And give me those!”

She snatched the sunglasses off Tom and put them on herself.

“Ohhh, I’m a devil” She mocked him.

“Hey! I don’t sound like that!” He protested and tried to snatch the glasses back.

“Oh, you so totally do!”

OoOoO

Star sat in another meeting room on the other side of the castle. She wondered how many of these rooms there were, and why her ancestors decided to scatter them all over the place. Why not just make a ‘meeting room wing’ or tower or something.

She sat next to her mother and stared at the Magical High Commission members. She had met and even grew up with some of them.

Lekmet: the bipedal goat with bat wings who could only communicate with goat noises.

Rhombulus: A large man who wears fur underwear and a cape, with snakes for arms crystal nipples and a massive rhombus shaped crystal for a head with one eye floating inside. He seemed to be the only one who could understand Lekmet’s bleats.

Omnitraxus Prime: A small floating orb with stars and galaxies swirling about inside the glass, a skull suspended in the center.

Two other chairs sat empty.

“Blaat,” Lekmet replied.

“He wants to know where Glossaryck is.” Rhombulus translated.

Queen Butterfly shrugged.

“Uhhhg,” Rhombulus grunted. “He’s always like that!”

“Where the heck is Heckapoo?” Omitraxus inquired with a small giggle at his pun.

A portal was sheared open near the door and in stepped Hekapoo

She wore a black and yellow dress. Spikes came out from the elbows of her long sleeves, flame red hair, and a golden crown with a flame on it.

“We don't need that dingbat anyway,” she said with a scoff and took her seat. “Let's get this over with.”

Star watched as her mother went over the events that had taken place. Once she was finished, the Magic High Commission all stared at her, mouth agape.

“That Septarian is still alive?” Hekapoo replied. “I thought we took care of him years ago!

“I’ll crystalize him this time,” Rhombulus said, waving his snake arms around.

“You know that won’t work” Omitraxus replied. “He can absorb magic.”

“I know this is a dire event… but,” Queen Butterfly stammered. “I think Marco needs to be the priority. We need to stop him before he gets to the castle and attempts to take Toffee on by himself.”

Queen Butterfly looked to Hekapoo.

“What? Why are you looking at me?” She asked. Queen Butterfly pulled out a birdcage with Ludo inside. “What… is that gross chicken looking thing?”

“It’s Ludo, the original owner of the castle. He did something to prevent any magic teleportation to his borders. It’s a two-day march from any point we can teleport.” Queen Butterfly said. Hekapoo gave the chicken a weird look.

“I don’t remember giving you any scissors.” She said suspiciously.

“Well… I inherited them… from my great uncle’s sister’s cousin.”  he said with a nervous chuckle. She glowered at him and grunted.

“What… exactly did you do to block portals for that big of a distance?” she growled.

“Well, you know how portals have a radius. They can’t be more than so much apart or they won’t work?” he chuckled and fidgeted his fingers. “I found out you can connect portals to each other if you overlap them.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Hekapoo shouted.

“It took me years, but I linked the boundaries of my kingdom with portals from the scissors. They’re not active and open since they’re weaved together like a web.” He chuckled, showing some pride in his ingenuity. “There’s only one spot that’s safe to go through, and my scissors are the only pair that is programmed with it.”

“And… if I were to go there right now?” Hekapoo asked while brandishing her scissors.

“One of two things,” Ludo said nervously. “This room fills with lava… or you’ll be swimming in it.”

“Do you know the spatial coordinate for your hole?” Hekapoo said while glaring at the tiny birdman.

“No… It’s programmed into the scissors,” he said with a whimper. Hekapoo grumbled to herself, slashed a hole in space-time and left. A few moments later she came back with a massive book and slammed it in front of Ludo.

“What one is it?” she roared. Ludo looked up at her and down to the massive book. He gingerly reached out of his cage and opened it to the first page.

“No… that’s not it,” he said and turned the page. “Not this one either.”

“This is going to take forever.” Omnitraxus bemoaned.

“Yeaj… this is volume one of three thousand. I can’t fix what he did unless I know what pair of scissors his ‘ancestor’ bequeathed him.” she said.     

“Blaat.” Lekmet said

“He asked; doesn’t your dimension’s time run differently? Like… 12 days per second?”

Hekapoo glared at the goat. Grabbed Ludo’s cage and stormed off through her portal.

“Is Ludo going to be okay?” Star asked her mom. She shrugged.

An hour almost passed. Star was getting worried. The portal tore open again and the birdcage was thrown back through as Hekapoo stepped back.

“Mom… how long…?” Star was about to ask.

“A hundred and twenty years.. Give or take.”

“Can Ludos live that long?” She asked, looking into the motionless figure in the cage.

“He’s fine. I had to regenerate him a few times over the years.” She said. “We went through all my scissors… twice.”

“Snip… snip… snip...” Ludo said from the bars. “They all go snip.”

“The whole trip was a waste of time. His junking up the system like that, I can’t access the history of them from my main book. It’s going to take weeks to clean up his mess manually.” She groaned.

“Umm, Hekapoo?” Star asked, raising her hand. Everyone looked at her. She loved being the center of attention, but not the center of their attention. “From what I understood, it’s like a big web or net right? Can’t you focus on one part of it, and open it up enough to let us in? If it's around the borders, we can port there… walk through… and port to the castle?”

Everyone turned to Hekapoo. She closed her eyes for a moment as if mulling something over.

“Yeah… that could work. If the donk head here only did this to the borders, then inside should be fine. We just can’t emergency teleport out of there until I get the original scissors back.” She said and tossed a tiny fireball at his cage. He let out a small squeak and scooted back. “Yeah… that got boring after the first ten years.“

“I’ll go and let everyone know what the plan is and ready everyone for the first transport.” Queen Butterfly said and stood up. Everyone else agreed and left the meeting room. Star looked over at Ludo’s cage when she was halfway out of the room. She looked up at her mom who rolled her eyes and sighed.

She gave her mom a hug and ran over to Ludo’s cage, grabbed it and followed along behind her. She hoped that she would be a strong and powerful ruler like her someday.