#it's literally called a WORMHOLE

[eldritchcatt0]

everyone is thrilled about wormholes until they meet the worm

[mochinomnoms]

Scenario: Some small item from the prefect's home world ends up in NRC. For example, my brother found a local brand of soda when he was out of our country for a few years. It made his whole week.

Option 1: Octotrio finds this item and know the significance of it. How do they give it to their dear prefect?

Or if option 2, if you want jealous Octotrio: Another student else gives the item to the prefect, and they are seething over how happy someone else made the prefect.

(sorry this is self-indulgent and I think im funy)

“A bottle of Mexican coke gets launched out of a wormhole and thunks them in the head. What is it? They have no clue, it looks like a soda, but they don't recognize the brand, logo, or anything really. It says Hecho en Mexico” on the side, though...wait! Isn't that a place from your homeworld? You'll love this!

“Ain't that the soda Shrimpy is always raving about?” Floyd was rubbing the side of his head that the glass bottle smacked into. It hurt like hell, and Jade hiding his laughter at his misery.

“Stop laughin', Imma bite you.”

“Fuhu, sorry Floyd.” Jade managed to clear his throat and straighten. “You just collapsed on the ground like a rag doll, it surprised me.”

“Yeah, how about I take that bottle and smack you up the head with it? We can see who looks more like a rag doll then”

“Think you could?

“Know I could.”

“I bet you can't”

“I bet I can, you fuc—”

Azul cleared his throat, drawing both of their attentions as he held the bottle in his hands.

“If you two would like to save the Cain instinct for another day, I do believe that we can garner the Prefect's favor with this.”

Both perked up, sharing a knowing look before smirking.

“Good point,” Jade replied, walking over to Azul to admire the bottle. “They have been shyer since our last outing with them, this would be a good opportunity to—”

“Floyd swiped the bottle from their hands and started a brisk jog as he called out, I got hit with it, so I get to take all the credit and all of my Shrimpy's love!”

“FLOYD!” Both chased after him, a loud, familiar cackle ringing through Main Street and everyone's ears.

You were none the wiser, chilling in your room with peace and quiet for once, as Grim was out with Epel in the Spelldrive Club. You gave it 1 hour before Leona got tired of him and sent him back to you.

Your peace was interrupted upon hearing the banging on your front door. Groaning, you got up and made your way to the entryway.

“I swear to God! Ace! If you're crashing here again, I'm getting you a literal doghouse!” You yelled out, huffing, as you swung the door open and instead found Floyd trying to wrestle a bottle of something from his grasp.

It was quite amusing, as Azul's grip wasn't even budging while Floyd pulled with all his might. Only Jade, who was on Azul's right, noticed you and smiled.

“Hello Prefect, how are you?” Jade nodded his head with a polite smile. “We apologize for the sudden intrusion, but we have something for you—”

“No, I found it! I have something for them!” Floyd whined, keeling over as Azul finally gabbed a harsh elbow into his ribs.

“You got hit in the head, I hardly count that as 'finding' it.” Azul gave you a pleasant smile, though you were wary of what the trio wanted from you to bring you something.

“We, all three of us, have a gift for you. We recognized it as something you've spoken about, and out of the kindness of our hearts, we decided to offer it to you in exchange for your time!”

“You snorted, glancing at the bottle in Azul's hands. Yeah, sure, 'kindness'. What's the point of a gift if—HOLY SHIT, IS THAT MEXICAN COKE?”

Azul stumbled backwards as you reached for the bottle in his hands, excitement gleaming in your eyes as you did.

“WHERE'D YOU GET THIS? ACTUALLY, I DON'T CARE! LET ME HAVE IT!”

Azul let out a yelp as you managed to pull the bottle from his hands, your eyes glittering and smile wide.

“You three don't know how bad I've been craving this since I've been here.” Sighing, you pressed the bottle, nice and cool, to your cheek in bliss.

“I would suck a man's dick for this shit, you don't even know.”

You froze at the choking sound in front of you, and snickering from the left and right. You noticed the light purple blush on Azul's cheeks and the pink ones on the twins. Jade was looking away, covering his mouth, but you could still see his lips quirk up. Floyd's snickering was growing into a full giggle.

“Ahem, I, ah, appreciate your enthusiasm for the gift. I'll keep that…in mind.”

“If he doesn't, we will. Isn't that right, Floyd?” Jade chuckled.

Floyd replied, “Oh for surrrre~ Say, Shrimpy?” Floyd leaned in, smile growing as he purred, “you up for offering that thank you?”

You backed away, face growing hotter as you pursed your lips. The twins laughed at you.

“Stop joking around! It was a joke and you know it!”

You could still hear the giggles from behind the door as you slammed it shut. However, you paused, hearing Azul murmur something to the twins and them quiet down. They sounded a bit disappointed, to be honest.

Sighing, you cracked open the door again, peeking out to the three. Azul was looking at you expectantly.

“Yes?”

“…Thanks. Do you guys wanna, uh, go out again this weekend? You said you wanted my time, in exchange, right?”

Azul visibly perked, giving you a closed eye smile as he nodded.

“Yes! How about we meet at 11am this Saturday at the gates? We can visit the town, you don't get to visit often, correct?”

“Yeah,” You smiled shyly. “Sounds good, I'll see you all then.”

“You pretended to not hear Floyd's whoop!” as you closed the door, chuckling to yourself.

“Weirdos. Cute ones, though.”

[tanoraqui]

In Which Space Orcs are Men

[AO3] A "what if humans are space orcs" take on Dagor Dagorath. (Aka the prophecied apocalypse of Middle Earth. Scifi story accessible to non-LotR nerds!)

Elves weren't really supposed to leave Earth. That's what they told us—the Elves, that is, told people thousands of years ago, when Elves could still be found here and there. When I was born, elves were nearly as much a fairy tale as they’d been on Ancient Earth.

Elves weren't supposed to leave Earth, the Elves said in the fairy tales, and in a few old scraps of records scattered around known space. They literally weren't made for it. They could only do it if they brought Earth with them—Arda they called it, leaves or dirt, water or a rare bubble of air, perfectly preserved in a white crystal. There are tons of tales about Elves losing their lifeline jewels—their hearts, their silimirs—and roping people into epic quests to get them back before they—the Elf—faded to nothingness. 

Even the jewels weren't enough, though. That's why there are also stories about Elves who fell in love with a person or a place and stayed there until they faded, or Elves who charmed someone into following them back to Fairyland on Earth...because whatever they said, Elves didn't really live on Earth. Humans have maintained their home planet as a monitored nature reserve since like the 40th century, open only to vetted research teams and serious Human religious pilgrimages. The most confirmed accounts of Elves that exist are of their ships appearing out of nowhere, with no trace of any tech that would enable it, at random, always-changing points within 100 miles or so of Earth.

Nobody ever came back from trying to follow Elves home. Mostly Elves tried to dissuade people from trying. But there are always crazy and curious people—and Elves usually attracted those, because any Elf who left the home they were "made" for was usually crazy and curious themselves. 

Those were the stories I grew up with. There was a cave near the orphans' creche which was supposed to be haunted by a faded Elf. I didn't really believe it—like I said, the last confirmed Elf was last seen like 5,000 years ago, and not even on my planet. People have met two dozen new sentient races since then. We've discovered that reincarnation is probably real (just functionally untrackable), prompting the Pan-Religious Reform Wars. The last person to see a live Elf was still traveling via natural wormholes—they literally didn't know that you could loop pi.

.

When the Human natal sun started to turn really red, it wasn’t that big a deal at first. It’s a very important, very sad event for any species, but it happens to everyone eventually. It happened to the Hectort just after we invented interstellar flight. There were some unusual gravatic waves around Earth’s Sol, but nothing worth noting to anyone who didn’t already care for personal reasons.

Then the Elves sent us a message.

The local Parks Service picked it up, of course. I bet the Humans meant to hush it up at first—though the Centaurian government still won’t admit anything—but someone leaked it immediately on the intergalactic net. It should’ve only been famous as a joke of a hoax, but…

It was basically just a metal box with rudimentary fire-thrusters soldered on the sides. It contained two things. The first was a recording/replaying device so antiquated that the only way they got it working is that it was already playing on loop, and didn’t stop until someone disconnected it from its power source.

The message was in Ancient Bouban, which some folklorist soon announced is the latest language an Elf could know, since the last known Elf went back to “Arda.” The voice somehow sounded melodic to every species with a concept of music, from the screeching Vesarians to the deep-sea sub-sonic Thinkers, even when translated through cheap, staticky speakers. And to most species, the speaker was audibly distraught.

They said,

This is the final message from the Firstborn of Eru to the Secondborn, and everyone else. The Battle of Battles has come, and we…are losing. If there are any who remember the ancient love and loyalty which bound our peoples, if there are any heirs remaining of Thargalax the Magnificent, of Nine-Fingered Frodo, of the noble Houses of Haleth, Hador and Beor—

The speaker drew a sharp breath, there.

—by great oaths and greater friendship I bid you now to raise your swords and ride to our aid. Ride as swiftly as you can!

We will hold for another year. We will, they said determinedly. After that, it is unlikely that…

Another, shakier breath. A smile forced into a voice which would rather weep.

Fëanáro and Nienna believe there is a way to destroy the Straight Road. If we must, if it comes to it, we will do so, and trap the First Enemy here in this dying world with us. Though I don’t know about—

Hair-aristocrat! a more distant, slightly less perfectly melodious voice called, in a language so dead that they needed computers to decode it. The walls are falling, we need to go!

If you never hear from us again, and no sudden discord arises among you, you will know we succeeded, the first speaker said quickly. If otherwise…I am sorry. Either way, I bid you all only, remember us! Oh beautiful flames, remember us, as we have ever remembered y— 

There was a sudden screech of tearing metal, a defiant, musical battle-cry, and a jarring silence. Then the message restarted.

And that wasn’t even the strangest thing in the box. The strangest thing was the recorder’s power source, which was powering the whole tiny rocket mechanism as well. It was an Elf-jewel right out of a fairy tale, a fist-sized, translucent not-quite-diamond—but instead of rock or water or a much-loved scrap of plant, the only thing it held was light.

...Kind of. It isn’t normal light. It arguably isn’t light at all, as we know it—scientists now think it’s technically some sort of plasmoid aether, except it only acts like a plasmoid aether about half the time. 

It has no detectable source within the jewel. It fully illuminates whatever space it’s in, no matter how big. Its visible radiation is a frequency, the scientists say, that matches a hyper-accelerated version of what the universe must’ve sounded like in the split second after the Big Bang.

It makes people remember things, when they see it in person or sometimes even across a holo. Some remember a similar light in a strange traveler’s eyes. Others, dreamily enchanted valleys where spring never faded, or tall castles, bright swords, and stern and glorious lords and ladies. And some of us got hit with a whole lifetime of memories in one go: an identical gem on the brow of a sober forest king, friends who slipped through trees like shadows save for their merry laughter, an impossibly beautiful gold-haired maiden dancing in a glittering cavern...

(And all the pain and loss that came with them.)

And some people just remember the sight of a distant star—in another world, in another lifetime.

Reincarnation was provable but untraceable…until now. 

The Thinker ambassador on Astrolax Station 5 was the first to kick up a fuss. Most Thinkers never leave their home planet, they're too huge and aquatic. But like I said, there's always crazy and curious people. The ambassador started bellowing the second che heard the message, without even seeing the light, because, "I know him! My Wisdom! We must send aid!" That made some news, and random other people shared their own, less dramatic revelations, and soon a compilation swept the net with timestamps showing that most of them were organically independent, not just jumping on the bandwagon….

Even that might've gotten written off intergalactically. The Thinkers are big in reincarnationist circles, on account of how they claim that deep in their planetary ocean they can hear echoes of their past lives. But being mostly planet-bound means they're not really influential on a big political level. Or it would've sparked another surge of the Reform Wars, and everybody would've remembered the rock, but not the recording. Or there would’ve been a fight over this potentially infinite energy source (though that is so last giga-annum)….

But first it was shown in person to the current Director of the Admiralty of the Astral Alliance, President of the X-ee Empire and Matron of the House of S,sh, Ch’ees/i’i S,sh. I was actually there—I was Captain of her ceremonial Alliance guards, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my career after Zanzibus. Very ceremonial, considering the X-eee have laser-proof shells and pincers and I have, what, opposable thumbs? Vestigial tusks?

I wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy being suddenly assaulted by all my own memories. So I missed the President freezing mid-step and gasping (in X-eee), “Mother.” I also missed her rising alarm call of an attempt to speak Ancient Elvish without an Elvish tongue or lips.

I sure didn’t miss her snap back to X-eee for a sharp call to attention, and everything that followed: the call to arms! The rousing of the Alliance! A tour of the galaxy, to find anyone and everyone else in whom the Light could awaken ancient memories! And for the love of X'eeh, why had nobody figured out how to get back to Fairyland with this thing yet, and every warship in the quadrant?!

If I believed in the One Behind, or in any other creator god or gods—I'm not saying I do, but if I did, if there really is something out there all-powerful and all-kind—then it'd be because out of every soul in the entire universe, the probably one in the best position to act on the Elves' message turned out to have, from a past life, two parents and a much-loved twin still in Fairyland. Like, that's insane, right?

I stayed with the Director's ceremonial guards for the whole tour, actually more than ceremonial for once—it was the weirdest mission of my life, and I've been on a lot of weird missions. Or supposedly routine missions that got weird (and usually disastrous). My friends joke that I'm cursed. S,sh requisitioned an Inquiry-class ship, so the science boffins could study the Light and jewel along the way, and we started wormholing at weft speed, hitting a new planet every week. Sometimes every day. In each major spaceport and ground-city, S,sh stood with the jewel on the highest available point and gave a recruitment speech for going to save the Elves and fight the oldest enemy of all reality. 

Honestly, it seemed a little redundant? The Astral Alliance was made for this sort of rescue mission (and for escorting trade convoys). But I was...if not happy, then sure as hell more self-certain with my ancient memories restored, and most people who joined up seemed to agree. It was mostly people who remembered, when exposed to the Light, who joined—so before long, we had a whole tag-along trail of mostly civilian ships, trying to get up to Alliance Fleet standard on the road in less than a year.

Three different religious sects tried to kill S,sh for "profaning the mysteries." Five others tried to steal the jewel because we were apparently appropriating a holy object. The boffins announced that, bar the can't-prove-a-negative possibility, the evidently sourceless Light should be counted as an infinite energy source, and at least seven different groups, ruthless financiers and sustainability idealists, immediately tried to steal it for that. And I still don't know what the rival thief-queens of Likkiliani were about, except that I got tied up upside-down from a palmdar tree for two hours trying to stop one, the other paid me 700 cron then threw me off a cliff, and in the end they recognized each other from past lives and just made out on worldwide live-holo before joining our growing fleet. 

It turned out they were the Director's past life's great-grandparents, and a Canid pop princess was her niece. The Thinker ambassador was some sort of ancestor, too. Crazy extended family. 

Most people who remember just remember the sight of a star in the sky. A buddy of mine from Fleet Academy remembered looking up at it as a Human sailor. The historians—and you’d better bet we picked up some Earther historians on this mission as well!—say this jewel or one like it was probably astrologically conflated with the planet Venus by early Humans.

(The more time I spent around the jewel, the Silmaril, the more I remembered, of my first life and more. Lifetime after lifetime with bad luck dogging my steps, killing loved ones in my arms, destroying cities I was supposed to save… One restless, haunted night, I met a Rigilic in the cafeteria who’d been awake with some of the same nightmares, who’d been my dead older sister once.)

The tour was cut short when word came from the Earth system that there was a black hole growing in the center of their reddening sun. 

No, the sun wasn’t compressing into a black hole millennia ahead of schedule—one had just spontaneously manifested within it, like it’d teleported in. No, not literally—that was impossible. We were pretty sure. No, the sun wasn’t falling into it…somehow. Yet. The black hole was only 17 quectometers wide, but it was growing at an erratic but unceasing rate. If their best estimation of the pattern held, it would consume the sun 2 months before the Elves’ deadline, and the Earth 4 to 950 minutes later.

We pulled back to Earth—well, to the dwarf planet Eros, on the edges of Earth’s star system. That’s where the nearest shipyard of any note was, and we were gathering the whole Astral Alliance. This is exactly the sort of thing the Alliance is for. 

I was released back to ship duty. Zanzibus was still a black mark on my record, as was Jorab, and really everything on the AAS Endeavor…and that thing in third year of Fleet Academy… But no matter how bad my curse, I was an experienced captain and one of the best pilots in the Alliance. For this, we needed all the best.

The boffins had pretty quickly mastered limited manipulation of the Light, using modified aetheric resonators, and every day they came up with something new for us to test. They focused the Light into a laser cannon like no one has seen before. They laced it through plasma shields until a fully shielded ship glowed like a distant star. They managed to nearly replicate the Silmaril’s crystalline structure, so they could make “copies” that shone like the original for first a few hours; then, with refinement, a full week…

The one thing they couldn’t pin down with any real confidence was how to get to Fairyland. The frequency of the Light resonated with large bodies of Earther saltwater in a particular way, and models suggested that if the Light source moved horizontally along the water within a certain range of distance and velocity, the resonance would create a wormhole-like ripple in space—but wormhole-like, was the key word, and models suggested. The closest anyone had seen to that spatial distortion was in a logbook of dubious veracity from the Delta Quadrant, four hundred years ago. Alteia, my Academy buddy who’d been a Human sailor, took the Silmaril in an M-wing on a series of highly monitored test flights above the Atlantic Ocean, and space did repeatedly start to hollow in front of bom—so bo had to stop every time, rather than risk vanishing with our single, maybe-one-way ticket.

Then Earth’s moon stopped shining in the sky. Its albedo just dropped nearly to zero, from one night to the next. There was nothing wrong that anyone could figure out—nothing with the orbit, nothing with the surface rock, nothing with the artificial atmosphere. Inhabitants reported feeling colder by several degrees, but no measuring equipment recorded anything.

The black hole slightly off-center in the middle of Sol was now 844.9 zeptometers, and growing more steadily.

We didn’t have time to keep testing. We needed to raise our swords and make our ride, even if we only got one shot at it.

I was given command, for seniority, skill, and because I was the one who managed to talk S,sh out of leading the fleet herself. (If my lives had taught me anything, it was the importance of having someone, anyone, ready to be emergency backup.) Ironically, I was back on the Endeavor, with most of my old crew—though we got permission to rename the ship, in honor of the mission. A lot of people did. Alteia was now commanding the AAS Elendil on my right flank, star-friend in Ancient Elvish. That Canid pop princess had taken over a hospital ship and renamed it Rivendell. An Earth Park Ranger, of all things, remembered being my dad—briefly—and he was leading the Rangers plus my Rigilic drinking buddy on the EPSS Elfsheen. 

We weren’t sure if any ship but the one with the Silmaril would get through. The fleet numbered in the hundreds in battleships alone, not counting scouts and scuttlers. Twelve races had sent ships on top of their typical Alliance Fleet tithe, and S,sh had brought about half the full force of the X-ee Empire. We all just locked tractor beams and hoped. 

I was piloting as well as captaining, with the Silmaril between my forehorns. It was held in place by about a dozen wires and other connectors to the ship, like an old-timey pilot’s headset. We took off in orbit around Earth, as close as possible to the surface—not very close, in warships of Class S and higher, but within range of the oceanic resonance. A Likkilianian thief-queen stood at my shoulder, ready to advise if anything “Musical” started to happen.

Think about what you’re trying to get to, and why, the boffins had advised, so I did—bright-eyed kings and dancing maidens; lost friends, families, cities, planets and all. The jewel got warmer against my skin and shone brighter with every pulse of the engine, brighter than we should’ve been able to see through.

The silver-gold Light twisted and diffused as space did around us. But there was no familiar rippling wormhole boundary—instead, spacetime thinned to a curtain like driving rain, like Vesarian silver-glass.

A ghost appeared next to me. She looked like the oldest, grumpiest writing teacher at the crèche, though I knew that was only in my head.

“There you are,” she said, impatient and relieved like I’d been hiding in the sandbox again, rather than coming to class on time. Her sewing scissors went snip snip snip as she darted them around my body—and a chain on my soul faded into guiding threads.

Before she’d even disappeared again, I punched the engine and blasted through the silver-glass curtain.

Fairy tales said there’d be a peerlessly beautiful land on the other side, green with eternal spring, full of endless light and laughter. They said there’d be sunlit shores and shimmering waves, with welcoming docks for sea-ships, sky-ships and space-ships all…

We flew into the worst battlefield I’d ever seen, in any lifetime. It was more desperately vicious than Jerusalem V at the height of the Reform Wars, more ruined than Glaurung’s wake, more desolate than Zanzibus after the nuclears fell.

Either a massive supercontinent or a small moon had been shattered, leaving nothing but a roiling debris field. The brand-new meteoroids ranged from pebbles to rocks the size of a small space station, and included space-frozen corpses, forests, and what might have once been city blocks.

I gave the helm back to my Pilot Officer—zer had, I can admit, slightly better reflexes for dodging debris—and focused on captaining.

Most of the life signs were clinging to the larger rocks. There shouldn’t have been atmosphere for them, but walls of thunderstorm wrapped around every shard with even a single life sign—wind and water desperately hand in hand to safeguard the last of the Elves. The only thing visible through the impossible storms was the Light of a second Silmaril, on a meteoroid shaped like half a broken eggshell.

A corpse lay at the epicenter of the explosion—what might’ve been a corpse, if it wasn’t also shattered. The broken pieces of a massive stone humanoid, taller than my ship if it’d stood beside her, still bleeding lava so hot that it burned even in frozen space. Another titan knelt at the shards of its head, a figure of towering bark and leaves, wailing with grief even worse than the end of the world. 

A slimmer tree-woman stood with one hand on her shoulder, comforting, and the other wielding a skyscraper-sized club spiked with incandescent wildflowers. Guarding her sister’s heartbreak, she fended off a swarm of bat-sized monsters with wings of darkness and whips of flame. 

Bat-sized relative to the gods of Elves and ancient Humans. About the size of an M-wing, in flight.

Countless more of the bat-things flung themselves at the storm-bubbles, like carnivores chasing the prey hidden inside. They were fended off by an equal army of creatures with wings of light and swords of lightning, led by a towering figure who seemed to dance from one bloody battle to the next.

The biggest battle by far was the farthest away, over where the sun had been. In this dimension of stories over science, Sol was another woman-shape, smaller than the others but burning just as brightly as her star. Also just as blood-red. The light was centered on a fist she kept clenched at her chest, and instead of containing the black hole, the unseeable thing that it was here surrounded her, striking at her with a thousand hungry jaws and grasping legs, and she had only a one-handed whip of a solar flare to fend it off—

But she didn’t fight alone. A warrior tore at the Darkness’s spidery limbs with his fists, image on the cameras flickering impossibly between every hero I’d ever heard of. A snarling figure bit at it with jagged teeth, gored it with horns, shredded it with claws and talons, and generally made every ancient prey-instinct in me scream. And a queen with a crown of stars, a shield like the night sky and a sword like a streaking comet, stood dauntlessly at the sun-holder’s side. 

With all that, and with the speed of even her most exhausted strikes, I thought the sun-holder could probably have gotten away if she’d tried. But I knew how a person fought when they weren’t willing to leave a friend, and a smaller, silver figure lay at her feet, unmoving and drained of light.

But even the battle for the sun wasn’t what grabbed my eye. No���all my attention, all my guiding threads of fate and the quick temper that always used to get me in trouble, before (and sometimes after) I learned to leash it in an Alliance uniform— All of that took me straight to the fight happening orthogonal to the stone giant’s corpse.

It was another one-versus-many. Morgoth, the First Enemy of Elves and Men— Master of Lies, Maker of Chains, Sonofabitch Curser of Bloodlines—towered over even his fellow gods. His shape changed constantly, sickeningly, but it was always black-armored with eyes like dying stars that hated you personally. His maul dripped with lava and every other kind of blood.

He fought against three great gray figures who moved as one. The tallest wielded a star-studded scythe with swift, efficient strokes, and wore the dark gray of corpse-shrouds. The shortest shimmered with more colors than even a Stamotapadon could dream of, and his weapon shifted likewise. The third was the clear, clean gray of skies after rain or tears run dry, and fought with only a shield—and hit harder with it than either of her brothers.

Around their heads darted the only Elves on the battlefield, in small fliers more like sea-ships than aircraft. But they moved fluidly, pestering the Dark Lord like flies, pricking his skin and threatening his burning eyes.

Until Morgoth swung his maul with a roar of fury that traveled even though soundless space. My ship and heart both shuddered. The gray gods all staggered back, and the Elves fell from the no-longer-sky—all but their leader, more fire than flesh, who wore the third Silmaril. Morgoth caught him in one massive black hand and with sharp claws plucked the jewel away, as easily as a ripe berry from a tree—

“All power to fore-cannon and fire,” I ordered—and the jewel on my brow shone bright again as several stored months’ worth of infinite Silmaril-Light slammed into Morgoth’s chest with all the force that the best scientists in the Astral Alliance could engineer. 

He stumbled. He dropped both the jewel and the elf-king (who’d been trying to bite him). The Lady of Mercy tossed her shield to catch them, staying low and out of sight—though she needn’t have bothered. The so-called “Lord of All” had already found his next enemy.

“All ships, move forward and join shields,” I ordered, and met his burning stare though the viewscreen. “Then broadcast me on all external frequencies.”

The wires on my forehead shimmered as we shifted Light-flow to the shields—and to my right, so did the Elendil, and to my left, the Cosmian Blade, and all around us the Minas Tirith, the Elfsheen, the Muse, the Rivendell, the Heart of Zanzi, the Longbottom Leaf… They were still soaring out of the silvery distortion behind me, tractor- and Silmaril-towed: sleek Rigilic eels-of-prey and Centaurian cruisers full of Humans eager to fight for their homeworld, Betan mine-ships and Canid X-M-wings and my own Hectoan starlighters, a full third of the X-ee navy with their X-eee–shaped six-engine dreadnoughts, and hundreds more. 

“This is Captain Pel Cinia, once Túrin Turambar, of the Astral Alliance ship Gurthang,” I said. My words were broadcast from every ship on every frequency in every language that the people of Arda might know, as the Fleet assembled from forty-plus different worlds flew into position. Our Light-infused shields blazed and locked together, until we formed a seamless wall right in the Enemy’s face, with the Elves and their other allies safely behind us.

I’ve never felt more proud to recite the most cliché line in the Fleet:

“We got your distress call. We’re here to help.”

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

There is nothing I want more in the world than for the Titans to be hunting down a mad scientist supervillain and they narrow the trail down to a cutting edge lab that's had suspicious activity and purchases that match the supervillain's tech. One of the scientists has a suspicious record of leaving randomly throughout the day so they break into the lab to stake it out and it's... it's literally just Wally.

Like:

Wally, walking into an empty lab in a full lab coat with a bowl of cereal: ....

Wally, looking at a vent in the ceiling: 'Sup dude

Dick, under his breath: Oh goddamn it

Dick: Hi, Wally

Roy, popping out from behind a plant: Hey, Wally. What're you up to in this totally normal and unsupervised lab?

Wally: Science stuff.... and things...

Garth, rolling out from under a desk: Any of that science stuff happen to be of the 'mad science' variety?

Wally: I like to call it happy science

Dick, muffled from the vent: Wally-

Wally: Totally bored approved happy science thank you very much

Donna, casually leaning behind the door: ... Wally, your lab purchased twelve sonic audio emitters and a miniature wormhole generator for... it's written on the sheet as... 'extreme guitar hero'

Garth: The ethics board approved that?

Wally: It is bored approved.

Roy, sighing and walking out: Great so we're back to square one. Later, West.

Wally, waving as the Titans leave: Bye guys! Love you!

Wally:

Dick:

Dick, kicking open the vent and jumping down to glare at Wally: B-O-A-R-D approved or B-O-R-E-D approved?

Wally: I think if we're being honest with ourselves you already know the answer to that one.

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[edutainer2022]

This was inspired partially by this whump prompt about bed sharing. Besides, I had advertised to @janetm74, @astranite and @idontknowreallywhy a sprained ankle for Scott after my own recent injury. This is one go at it of several I have in mind. A harmless late night conversation between Dad and Scott over the latter's bum foot leads into a wormhole of unexpected deeper anguish. Jeff has a lot of emotional revelations ambushing him upon return from Oort Cloud. But it all gets better. Jeff loves his eldest boy so, so much.

SLEEPLESS

He was miserable and in pain. But mostly stupid. His body burned through the painkillers, Virgil made sure he took for his sprained ankle, somewhere halfway through the movie. He didn't want to take more to be out of commission the next day. They were grounding him anyway, of course. Dad was taking over several conference calls with TI at The Desk as well, because apparently Scott was now only good for lounging on the couch cushions, his foot propped up. Dad's firm stare made that part non-negotiable.

Virgil and Alan were sound asleep after the movie, so they decided to leave them be, tucked in together with a throw blanket. Gordon had his hands full, literally, with a still wobbly from orbit and now sleepy John, helping him along to his rooms, and was likely to crash there too. Scott didn't want to worry Dad more with needing an anesthetic cream, so made his best to hide a wince, a gasp, and a limp, before making it upstairs and bidding Dad good night. A detour to the bathroom to rumage through his own med-kit seemed like too much trouble. He's been through worse pain. He'd be fine.

So now Scott was wide awake in bed, every minute move, twist or tug of his foot - a pure liquid fire of agony on pulled and inflamed tendons. A bathroom with the coveted anesthetic now seemed a whole world away. He felt miserable and stupid, and lonely, and maybe wanted to cry a little. And for someone to come over and help, but he wouldn't ever dare worry them or take away from their rest. He opted for a grunt and some angry squinting against treacherous tears. He'd glare daggers at someone, but he would need a mirror for that.

In answer to his thoughts a door hissed open. From the size of the silhouette Scott first thought it was Virgil, checking up on him. But the steps of the visitor were heavier. Slower. Dad!

Jeff wasn't using his cane for the short trip to his son's room. He had a tube of sports anti-inflammatory gel in one hand, likely, from his own medical kit on hand. Dad perched carefully at the foot of Scott's bed and yanked the cover up, pulling the bruised and swollen foot into his lap. All without a single word. Scott tried to squawk in protest.

"Dad! I'm fine! You don't have to!"

The soothing gel was cool on the skin. Dad's hands cool too, careful and daft.

"C'mon, Bluejay, you should know better by now. I haven't been around lately, but I've been doing this a while, son. I KNOW when you're in pain!"

"How did you know I wasn't asleep, Dad?"

Jeff chuckled at that, giving the injured ankle another gentle pass and a knead with his fingers.

"Dad-radar. A bit rusty but ever true!"

Scott exhaled in relief as the applied anesthetic was already taking the edge off, and relaxed against his pillow. It felt so good to have Dad so casually take care of him. It felt so safe and comforting, he immediately felt guilty. He should be the one taking care of Dad, exhausted by his ordeal and still recovering. He should be putting up an unwavering front, not a wobbly bum foot.

Jeff considered his handywork, gave Scott's knee a pat for good measure and tucked the covers back, but not before shifting Scott's foot carefully on a couch throw pillow, installed in his bed by Gordon the day before, for elevation. Dad put the cream away on the bedside table and loomed over Scott again.

"Now, kiddo, I can give you another pill for the night. I know your system burns through them like Thunderbird One through fuel. But just one."

Dad's posture went tense, his eyes darker, even in the shadows. Scott's heart constricted as a sudden guess occurred - a memory of him nearly overdosing that one time his body (and mind) was so stressed and he was so desperate to just GET BETTER ALREADY after THAT PLACE, was probably a lot fresher for Dad than for himself or his brothers after... everything. It WAS an accident, but maybe Dad never quite shook the shadow of a horrific doubt.

Scott shook his head. No pills.

"I'm good! Thanks, Dad."

The last part came out small. Timid.

Dad's features relaxed and he moved to sit back down on the bed and lean on the headrest.

"OK! Now scoot over, Bluejay!"

A pillow was yanked from beneath Scott's head and rested on Dad's lap. Jeff patted it, inviting Scott to relocate. Scott tried to protest again, but large hands were already guiding his head and shoulders onto the pillow. Fingers automatically raked through his ungelled hair. Dad's other hand landed on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. Scott shifted carefully not to pull his ankle again and curled into a ball, like a giant cat in Dad's lap. He felt so snug. So safe. Of course the ugly mug of shame reared again.

"Dad! You need to rest!"

"And I do rest. See? No prancing around."

Dad wiggled his toes in garish neon green socks with alien head prints, now perched on Scott's comforter, comically. There was a smile in his voice. But the palm on Scott's shoulder tightened in a soft, but pointed squeeze.

"You need to rest too, Bluejay. Or you can tell me why you haven't been sleeping, if you want."

Scott's whole frame froze for a moment. He tried to deflect with a quip - that hardly failed.

"My foot hurts!"

Jeff rubbed his palm up and down his son's arm for comfort.

"I know, kiddo. But you haven't been sleeping for some time before that. That's why you got a cramp on your run, that's why your leg gave, and you twisted and sprained that ankle."

Scott coiled tighter on himself, facing away from Dad, eager to spring and run. Run away from that conversation - bum foot or not.

Jeff sensed the son's tension and shifted his ministrations to small circles over the young man's upper back.

"I told you I've been doing this a while, son. Your sleepless tells are kinda my forte since you were two days old."

Silence stretched. What Jeff missed through Scott's childhood, he certainly compensated a thousandfold after Scott was retrieved from THAT PLACE and could barely make it through an hour of sleep, plauged by nightmares and memories. Eight years stranded in space didn't dull Dad's instincts - Scott, indeed, hadn't been sleeping, unless passed out with exhaustion, ever since the Zero-XL mission came back. How could he?!

A rugged breath came out with barely audible words:

"I was late."

Jeff's hand hovered over his shoulder.

"Come again?"

Scott squeezed his eyes shut and drew in more air.

"I was late to save you! The planetoid was already falling apart, and you weren't there! I was late! I failed you! I should have come sooner! I should have never stopped looking! I should have..."

Eventually he was heaving dry sobs, close to hyperventilating, blurring disjointed apologies out.

Dad was now clutching him with both arms, rocking in cadence with Scott's full body shivers. Arms, treacherously weakened by years in low gravity, struggled to pull the lean muscle mass of the son's body close to his chest. Jeff settled for tugging gently at Scott's upper arm to coax him to look up at the father.

"Can you look at me, Bluejay? Please! Look at Dad!"

Jeff's voice was hoarse, toned down in a long forgotten habit not to startle. He also didn't quite trust it not to quiver, shellshocked by the boy's anguish.

A blue eye, clouded with tears, finally peeked up at him. Then Scott reluctantly uncurled from a ball and twisted sideways to face Dad. That was a win.

"Look at me, Bluejay! Stay with me! Good. Good! Where am I?"

Scott blinked owlishly once, twice, processing the question. When understanding hit the pain flared up again. He tried to hide it beneath lowered lashes, but Jeff was relentless.

"Where am I right now, Scotty? Indulge me!"

Scott sighed.

"You're here, Dad."

"And how did I get here, son?"

Jeff took a moment to grab a sleeve of his hoodie - Scott's old hoodie, to be precise, now almost swamping his father's frame - and wipe the tears from his son's cheeks and chin.

Another sigh was accompanied by a dismissive flail.

"It's not... I was LATE, Dad! I promised Alan and I couldn't bring you back! I nearly lost you!"

"That's not quite how I remember it, Bluejay. You were tumbling past me into the void among all those boulders."

That certainly topped the charts of the vivid images that kept the father up at nights quite often. The fact that Scott stayed behind alone in the danger zone, having sent Allie away, against all protocols, would have to be a conversation for a different time. For a different time of the day, for sure. For now he had a different matter at hand.

"Scotty, there's no scenario, universe or timeline, where I would choose my own life over yours! Or your brothers'. I'm here. I'm home. You got me here, because you stayed strong and true. You kept IR going. You kept our family going. You kept the company going. You spared no effort or expense to build Zero-XL. You led your brothers and you saved me. Dad's right here! I've got you, son! I love you so much! You can rest now!"

That too would have to be a far longer and even more emotionally wrought conversation, once the sun was up. It might need to involve Dr. Ross, the family psychologist, who'd already wondered tentatively if Scott wanted to resume therapy after Jeff's return, or if Jeff would consider father-son sessions to work through their new dynamics. But that too would have to wait till dawn.

For now the interim goal was almost accomplished. Scott's blinking became slower, his breathing more even. Jeff rejoiced when he managed to cradle the boy's head against his chest, as Scott folded into a cuddle after some careful prodding. Broad shoulders going limp in Dad's firm hold heralded him finally succumbing to slumber after weeks, possibly months of guilt-infused insomnia. But a father had too much on his mind to sleep just yet.

[nowimjustastranger]

Somebody to Call My Own Lore | Part 2

This was too big to fit in one post so I had to split it into two parts, you can find part 1 by clicking on the AU tag! Please feel free to pop into my askbox if you have any questions about any of my AU's, I'm itching to ramble about them.

Trigger warning for suicide. Also, 77/H Ford's relationship with his brother is mentally & emotionally abusive.

Ford has far more advanced technology than what earth is capable of, taking inspiration from the dimensions he's visited to design a tattoo made of nanobots that allow him to teleport short distances, he still has to use the gun for long distances. But if he can see his destination, he can teleport there using the tattoo. The ink is red and the tattoo is the outline of the Stan o' War.

When Ford comes across dimension 77/H, he is pushed to the breaking point. Stan’s fate is to eventually take his own life after his brother guilt trips/emotionally manipulates him into staying by his side while Weirdmageddon swallows the world. Stan wouldn’t even be an official part of Bill's freaks, seen as akin to Ford’s pet by the group (Bill included).

Stan would end up suffocated with survivor's guilt and the worst self-esteem ever seen in a Stan, regarding himself as Ford’s loyal dog instead of a person. His hopelessness and despair wear him down until he is driven to take his own life, Ford wiping their dimension out entirely in his grief. The kicker is that Bill could’ve stopped it but didn’t because he wanted Ford all to himself, jealous that Stan got the majority of Ford’s attention and affection while Ford was reserved and cold with Bill. So Bill simply let Stan die, and that was ultimately his downfall.

419”3 Ford stays up for days in order to scour the timeline for a series of events that doesn't end with Stan killing himself, but most paths lead to the same destination while several others are decidedly worse and are immediately discarded. Ford gets more manic as his window to step in without catastrophic consequences to the timeline rapidly closes, his self-inflicted sleep deprivation and desperation pushing him to act rashly.

Stan had received the postcard like in canon, but the difference is that Ford had teamed up with Bill and opened the portal to bring Weirdmageddon onto earth. Ford had planned to have one of the freaks fetch his brother for him once they came through the portal, but the anti-weird barrier surrounding Gravity falls was an unexpected setback. So Ford opts to send his brother a postcard and work on finding a way to break the barrier while waiting for Stan to arrive, Bill doing his best to convince Ford that his brother would only be a distraction.

Ford didn't take kindly to Bill’s poor opinion of Stan, proving a point by ignoring his work for several days until Bill reluctantly apologized and agreed to spare Stan from the apocalypse by letting him live in luxury in Gravity Falls with Ford.

419”3 Ford steps in quite literally at the last minute, Stan’s car unknowingly approaching the barrier that separates the rest of the world from Weirdmageddon. Stan, of course, panics and yanks the wheel when a man dressed in all black and wearing a biker helmet darts into the road in order to avoid hitting the stranger. Stan’s car swerves into the ditch, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel when he hits a tree.

Stan is –understandably– disoriented as the figure pulls him out of the totaled car, Stan's awareness coming in waves. Stan thinks he sees a giant pink woman on fire watching them from the other side of the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign before the stranger adjusts his grip on Stan and his vision is overtaken by blue as he’s effortlessly hauled into a wormhole that deposits them in 419”3 Ford’s current headquarters in a different dimension.

[itseasytoremember]

I love my weird feral cat rapini. She was adopted during Covid lockdown so we never met in person and Boy Howdy did She Have Trauma. She had either never met a man before or every single man she had met had kicked her and then called her mean names because holy shit did she hate me in the beginning. She hated me so much one time while I was cleaning the litter box in her enclosure (my bathroom) I got Too Close For Her Comfort and she Bit Through My Thumb.

Let's take a second and sit with that last sentence.

Not bit my thumb. Not bit my thumb hard. Through. She bit through my thumb. I have a wormhole scar because of this asshole. Because I had the GALL to try and clean a turd. Also fun fact cat bites are basically poison because they have such gross mouths.

So one hospital trip and TWO (2) antibiotics later all of a sudden I have a sweet little angel cat. She is a little skittish but she literally headbutts me for scratches so hard she falls over. She's baby. She my baby. But even now, if she gets over stimulated she'll mock-bite me. Only ever one finger, only ever one spot.

Which tells me 1. She hasn't forgotten what she did and 2. She can fully do it again, but is choosing not to BC she now fucks with me.

[thesearchforbluejello]

One of my favorite things about Stargate is that every time there's an incoming wormhole in the first two seasons everyone goes into immediate crisis mode, and then after that it's like "oh, incoming wormhole, must be one of our pals."

It's like their caller ID goes from 100% calls about their underground supersecret military base's extended warranty to like 90% people on their friends and family plan and only 10% telemarketers. Unfortunately those telemarketers are usually Anubis and that dumbass head hologram he does or Ba'al running his mouth for shits and giggles but. Also I mean Sam and Daniel literally compare the gate network to a telephone in 1x02 so.

[inbabylontheywept]

Master Post of Writings and Series

HFY Science Fiction That Isn't a Ship, It's a Cannon with FTL! Military fiction revolving around space pirates and a railgun someone strapped an FTL drive to. There are three parts, the link above should let you scroll through the whole series. Like Sharks A short fic based on the prompt "Humans are the only ones to actually develop FTL. Everyone else just uses wormholes." The Scattering Experimental piece. I normally do prose, but I tried a poem. Inspired by the Dark Forest Theory. "So...What's the biggest gun you've ever made?" First installment starring Earl, a weapons designer. In this episode he explains the basics of fission-based fusion weapons, their applications in throwing things into orbit. Also stars a horny lobsterman. "R&D? More like R&Deez Nuts" Second installment starring Earl. This is a laser tag fight starring the R&D division, accounting, and sales. There will be male bonding. Or else. "Yeah, sure, and I shit thermite. Be serious." Earl drinks until he pukes. Aliens learn that humans produce hydrochloric acid for digestion. The Vengabus is Coming! A pinned down group of soldiers has to call in a human tank for backup. Shock and awe does not begin to describe it. Hold Your Breath and Burn The bad news is that he's gonna die in space. The good news is that he can make it count. "I will solve you if I must." The last tool of diplomacy is threats. Burning Bridges You don't have to kill a soldier to keep them from being a combatant. "I think we underestimated the scale of the human species by eight or nine orders of magnitude." In which humans turn out to be the swarm. Party Favors Humanity solved mortality. It did not solve boredom. Now it's everyone's problem. Starring my creepiest humans, a lot of drugs, and the leasy sexy descriptions of sex I could make.

HFY Fantasy Small, Fragile, and Destined to Die There's something to be said for spitting in the face of death. Sometimes, literally. "Healing+Lightning=Wizard Launcher" Unconventional spell uses let a wizard punch above his weight. And bite. And kick. Human wizards make a lot of ruckus. An Honorary Troll A wizard fights a troll. It is not a very wizardly fight. I considered it a very loose sequel to the story above it, but both can absolutely be read separately. Dale of the Dales A two part series about a human protecting a town of halflings from an army of gnomes with the power of hospitality, and also being comparatively massive. Why Human's Can't Cast On the properties of superconductors and golden gods. The Thunder God of Honnillee A human is adopted by a halfling. What Talon and What Dreadful Claw Tragedy with a man and a spynx.

Unsorted Fictions Leviathan A necromancer scours the depths of hell for a soul worthy of his creation. He finds more than he bargained for. Odysseus in Space (It's very, very good) Biographical Pieces Soviet Birds A comedy of errors is resolved by the Vessel of Bird Sacrifice. The Kitchen Labyrinth of Missile Science Why does a classified facility with 30 people at it have 7 kitchens? What would you do if I told you it has seven of every kind of room? The Fridges. Oh my God, the Fridges. It also has 20 fridges in it. Obviously. Kevin vs. Intro to Quantum You would be surprised at the kind of intellectual challenges random bystanders can take. I certainly was. Layman walks in and becomes the class mascot. The Condom Bomber In which I fuck up. Videos None of these are narrated by me, but I thought I'd list them here for anyone that prefers listening to reading. Like Sharks, read by Grey Voice. He focuses on smooth reading. Like Sharks, read by Aggro Squirrel. He has a theatrical voice. Like Sharks, read by NetNarrator. He has a fast, clipped style. The Vengabus is Coming & Burning Bridges 2 for 1 by Aggro Squirrel. "Yeah, and I shit thermite. Be serious." by Net Narrator. "So, what's the biggest gun you've ever made?" by Aggro Squirrel.

[toghrahkunok]

Come play the Starfinder 2nd Edition Playtest!

We have:

The Twitch Streamer (Envoy)

With abilities such as

- "mods, kill that guy"

- networking

- diss track

- The leader, the plan guy, the silver-tongued schemer that may or may not have shot first

The Power of Friendship (Mystic)

With abilities such as

- no literally a direct quote from the class is "You defeat your foes with the power of friendship and overwhelming firepower."

- psychic life bond between all of your mutuals

- the universe has a soundtrack and by god you're hijacking the aux cord

- A tremendously powerful spellcaster that forges metaphysical connections with their friends and the universe at large

Bond Name's the james (Operative)

With abilities such as

- what the fuck why are you so good at killing people

- there's literally a feat called 360 No-Scope

- shoot the gun right out of their hand, or the grenade right out of the air

- A tactical, deadly class that's better with gun than you are at breathing

Space Magic Bullshit Knight (Solarian)

With abilities such as

- zero-waste usage of every stage of a star's life cycle

- destiny 2 supers/overwatch ultimate abilities (supernova go brrr)

- at-will wormholes my beloved

- An in-your-face fighter that wields light and gravity to mulch things like their stellar inspirations do

Tea-For-Two Heavy Weapons Guy (Soldier)

With abilities such as

- you are heavy weapons guy

- more of a mobile artillery platform than a rifleman

- 410,757,864,530 expended shell casings

- The closet thing you can get to playing an anthropomorphized tank, with insanely bulky armor and a specialty with the heaviest weapons in the game

The... uh, the. wait. hang on. The- (Witchwarper)

- YOU SHOULD NOT EXIST

- YOUR MERE PRESENCE HERE STANDS AGAINST THE VERY FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE

- (you can aquire an ability that straight-up removes an entity from reality)

- A class of impossibility within quantum fluctuations, you exist via a Paradox of varying implication and thus must also have an Anchor to the world

[mikokiara]

Taco and Nihilego fusion AU

(contains spoilers from pokemon sun and moon so beware!)

okay so like. I came out with the craziest idea ever, so while I was talking in the tacomic server at some point I said about how could it would be if taco got fused with nihilego just like lusamine in the original pokemon sun and moon releases and before I knew it I had been dropped into an spiral of how messed up taco would be post-fusion. Lusamine, the main villain of original pokemon sun and moon has been obsessed with ultra-beast speficially nihilego. I haven't played the games, the only thing I know of them is the ending and lusamine's character as a whole. Ultra beast are- quoting from pokemon wiki as a:

''group of extradimensional Pokémon who have gone through Ultra Space. Most of them were introduced in Pokémon Sun and Moon, though some were introduced in Pokémon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon.

Ultra Beasts infrequently appear from Ultra Wormholes in Alola. These appearances are apparently as unexpected for the Ultra Beasts as it is for Alolans, which tends to make them combative''

Nihilego is one of these ultra-beast. And can be considered as an outright parasite.

nihilago has also been proven to be able to fuse with its host just like it was shown in the sun and moon games and anime adaptation with lusamine:

my proposition is that taco- against her own will fuses with nihilago after she pushes mic away to prevent her from being the one absorbed by it. Now taco is protective of those she cares about. So her pushing mic out of the way to save her from becoming nihilego's next host is not something too far-fetched. By consequence however she is the one that becomes nihilego's host. Which leads the rest of the cast to travel to the Ultra Deep Sea (nihilego's dimension) to attempt to save her. However, when they arrive the first thing they see is nihilego and taco's fusion- or how I lovingly call her nihitaco. I don't know how the fuck they would save her but like point is that they do. And now taco has to deal with the psychological and physical consequences that come from fusing with an ultra-dimensional parasite.

More discord stuff:

like read above. Nihilego's toxins can take a toll on not only the host's mental health but also their physical health. I think due to taco not being exposed to its toxins for a way too extended period of time like lusamine in the original sun and moon game (allegedly) has- she is able to recover more easily. That doesn't mean however that recovering from such traumatic event will be easy on itself. Both taco's physical and mental health have found themselves affected after her encounter with nihilego leading to test tube having to do regular check ups due to the effects nihilego's neurotoxins would have in not only her physical form but mental health overall.

In general just fusing with an ultra-beast that is quite literally a parasite would just take such a toll on her I feel it would led her to develop ptsd from the encounter. some of ptsd symptons can be:

Being easily startled.

Feeling tense, on guard, or on edge.

Having difficulty concentrating.

Having difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep.

Feeling irritable and having angry or aggressive outbursts.

Engaging in risky, reckless, or destructive behavior.

vivid flashbacks (feeling like the trauma is happening right now)

intrusive thoughts or images.

nightmares.

intense distress at real or symbolic reminders of the trauma.

physical sensations such as pain, sweating, nausea or trembling.

BONUS MY NIHITACO DRAWING:

anyways thank you for reading my insane ramblings bye bye!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Alice 'Allie' Parkington is WonderSpider!

____________________________________

Miguel: One year and four months ago, I devised the formula for inter-dimensional travel, allowing me to open portals across the multiverse. I created an elite stri-

Alice: Oh, Okay! -

[Alice is the result of a 'Adapt-A-Spider' Challenge, where you adapt a pre-existing character into a Spider! You can see more of my fun Spidersona challenges HERE]

(Also HUGE THANKS to @fairytalespider who made the OG SpiderSnow!)

Gwen Stacy isn't the only blonde who knows about miraculously falling through wormholes.

Except Allie got sent to the universe with talking animals, and a maniacal queen with of taste for beheadings. Not that she's complaining. Not when the tea parties are so delightful~

At 7 years old Alice Parkington found a white waist-coated rabbit, on a hurry to who knows where -

And she followed him, fell down a hole, and never came back.

Origins:

[Alice's world is a mix of the book's portrayal, the cartoon's, and Tim Burton's (though I haven't seen the movies). Her story begins at the end of book - a similar ending to the cartoon movie, but instead she doesn't wake up.]

After losing a game of croquet to The Red Queen of Hearts, Alice is sent to the dungeons, awaiting her beheading on the Queen's orders. That is, until she finds an enchanted Spider in her cell, sent by an ally. When she's bitten, it gives her all the power of Wonderland - and binds her there forever. After escaping The Red Queen's Death Row, Alice was adopted by the woman who helped free her - The kind but exiled The White Queen or Marmoreal, aka Her Aunt Mirana.

Now The Blue Princess of Marmoreal, Alice is next in line for the throne, and the web-swinging protector of Tugley Woods, Wonderland. She spends her days fighting against the tyrannical and murderous rule of The Red Queen of Hearts, and The Court of Cards. With The Mad Hatter as her martyred Uncle Ben - Alice calls Wonderland her home, though she's always left questioning what's real and what isn't. At this point, she's accepted she'll never know the answer. So when she's recruited for Spider Society, it's just another rabbit hole to go down, and another adventure to fall into. On campus she's known as WonderSpider, and she's a lot more powerful (and ruthless) than you'd think.

Design and Personality:

Alice is a lot less sugar and a bit more spice, with her personality taking after the book (moreso than the movies).

Alice is bubbly and independent. She's as curious as a cat and as chatty as a bird. And she's all about asking questions and finding her own way in the world.

She's loves tea parties and foraging and making crazy experiements in the Hatter's workshop. And now that he's gone, she still finds herself in there, cooking up another magical sweet or Victorian style gadget. When she's not doing that, she's at The White Queens side, begrudgingly taking (literally) nonsensical etiquette classes. She isn't afraid to speak up for herself and others. And once she makes her mind up, it's settled.

Despite what some may think, she's isn't an entire lunatic. She's hasn't gone Wonderland Mad yet.

Even since a young girl, Alice has always been known for asking questions - trying to find the sense in nonsense before coming to a conclusion. She's great at picking up on details, and thinking outside the box. And she's always the one to keep a level head, no matter what the circumstances. Doom is not assured when reality is subjective. She's as logical as she is loopy, and although some may think there's nothing going on between her ears, they are sorely mistaken.

She always wears her glasses. She needs them to see.

Or rather, she needs them to see correctly. Having a cause of The Mads, taking off her glasses distorts her vision of the room into a psychedelic and disorienting wonderland version itself - which hurts. She keeps them on always. Though they can be knocked off during battle. Like other Spider-people - The lenses squint, blink, and emote. They have a permanent and consistently moving patterns and colors. Between blinks, the design may change, the swirls changing color or direction. Sometimes the words she's saying may flash over them for emphasis, and they can contain anything from exclamation points to tie dye.

Alice is a de facto genius.

An expert chemist, Alice has mastered dozens of recipes and chemistry formulas using the vegetation in Wonderland. She's cracked the code to rabbit holes, and has an amazing affinity for science and theoretical theory. And if she doesn't understand a certain law of physics or something, she can just choose to ignore it. Literally.

Powers & Abilities:

Hobie told Alice that laws are oppressive. She agreed, told him she hates the laws of physics - then started floating to the ceiling like a balloon. Needless to say, reality doesn't really work for Alice. And she cannot control it.

But no matter what her misfortune, though - She'll always say 'Oh, dear.'

Reality Warp:

Wonderland has side effects. Alice can grow and shrink at will, but once she's there, she can't go back. When she wants, she can manifest rabbit holes to Wonderland on any flat surface, but she doesn't know where they are - so she always falls into them. Her tears are huge, and they flood any room. And for some reason, she's obsessed with cookies. It she sees one, she'll eat it. It doesn't matter if it says 'Eat Me' or not. If you hand her something and tell her to drink, she will. It's the one thing she won't question, although she should know better. She'll read the label, and if it's not clearly labeled bleach or poison, she's drinking it. If it's not those two things, it must be safe right?

The Power of Imagination:

Like Spider-Ham has the Super-Slapstick ability, Alice has the Power of Imagination on her side. If she can make logic of it or believe it, then there is a random chance it will happen. If the team is looking for a way past a locked door, Alice may say 'If only there were a mousehole somewhere here. Mice are such scampers, they can get into anywhere!' There will probably be a 1/4 chance of a mouse running by, leading them to a cartoon like mousehole she can shrink and go through. However, Alice can't will it to happen. She can't be asking or hoping for it, and the thought has to be completely innocent and 'wonderous' for it to work. The ability can also be compounded, with multiple unlikely things happening rapid fire - however this is less likely and HIGHLY dangerous if done in other universes, and is likely to cause an anomaly. Plus everyone else involved goes a tad bit 'loopy' for a bit.

This ability only works outside of Wonderland, and it was discovered by Miguel.

When Alice met Miguel, she began to question his interesting suit, and so she asked. Miguel began to explain to her, but confused, Alice said 'Well, that's nonsensical. Surely you can't wear light like fabric. If that were true, I could pull this right off you.' - And then she did. And suddenly she was holding his suit in her hands as if it were made of fabric, and Miguel was there in his underwear.

Alice's response: 'Oh dear.'

Chesire Mode:

When surrounded by enough chaos or kinetic energy, Alice can go Chesire Mode, and really goes off the bend. She experiences full Wonderland Madness - similar to the Hatter, and gains the ability to unravel herself and turn invisible. Her voice begins to echo, creating a disorienting and hallucination-like affect. Doing this is known to cause madness, but it affects everyone in the room.

Equipment:

WebShooters: Alice uses mechanical Web-Shooters created by her and The Mad Hatter. Her webs are silly string and streamers. 'Bow'-nus Arms: Alice's waist ribbon is extendable like Mr.Fantastic's limbs, serving essentially as a second set of arms. However, when it's off of her, it's much more similar to Doctor Strange's cape, having a mind and personality of it's own. She can take it off and ask it do it, and it'll go off and (try it's best) to do it, just like a snake. It's name is David Bowie. She does not know who David Bowie is - it's just a coincidence: it's family name is Bow-ie, and David is a common name.

Random Facts:

Alice hangs out with a lot of the 'Eccentric' and Mini Spiders - She likes others from cartoons or fairytales, or anyone made for whimsy.

And she likes spending her time small.

She has a crush on Lego Spider-Man. She shrinks to be with him lol

He naturally finds her a little offputting, they're NOT a thing but she wishes (sis he's literal plastic)

Alice's best friends are SpiderPetal, SpiderSnow (@fairytalespider), SpiderFairy (@stardust948) and Spider-Ham.

Since they all live in either a woodland area, a cartoon, or both, those are usually who she's with

Though she only goes small around people she trusts - but never someone like Miguel. In fact, with Miguel, she does the opposite.

When Miguel is in the room, Alice prefers to grow 'full size' as in... taking up the whole room giantess style.

She says it helps, because 'It makes Mr.O'hara look like a little toy soldier.'

With the size of his lair, she can often grow taller faster than he can get lower - so he'll stay up there, and she'll grow to meet his eye.

She can decide when to stop growing or shrinking, just not when she'll turn back.

This power is transferable. Alice's wonderland powers still work elsewhere, and so her cookies and drinks do too.

Alice can only keep 1 cookie and 1 drink on her at one time, never more, it'll always be ruined.

She can use these to either extend her state, or have someone shrink or grow along with her.

But once she uses the one of each item, she can't get more until she returns home and makes more.

HOWEVER. HOWEVER - Alice is down for deals.

If you come to her world and ask for some cookies or potions, she'll give it to you. But there's a mandatory tea party involved, and the only payment she asks is that you bring sweets for the guests - Vegan please!!

(Her favorite is angel food cake, after cookies of course)

Those aren't the only ones - she has dozens of sophisticated concoctions for any need - floating and weightlessness, invisibility, even the ability to mimic voices perfectly -

And just the same, she's able to carry one of each when outside of Wonderland.

A frequent customer of hers is Hobie. He puts the potions to work - plus he makes the best vegan coconut macaroons.

Oh - also DO NOT Drink her tea though - it's made with Wonderland Tea Leaves....Great for a good time, horrible for bedtime.

Despite not knowing her specific age - Alice is a young adult - and she works at The Society.

Her Uncle Hatter was a master chemist, alchemist, magician, chef - and dozens of other things. And for years, Alice studied under him.

Originally, Miguel assumed all of this knowledge would be non-transferable nonsense, but - wrong.

Alice is one of the leading scientists at The Society - with a concentration in Multiversal Physics, studying everything from the visual styles of universes, the path between universes, and differences in time.

She'll often say something, only to get dismissed by Miguel.

But Lyla will cut him off, telling him that scientifically, Alice IS making sense.

It's just that because her world is totally backwards, the ideas she has to describe her thoughts are backwards too.

After a while, she becomes one of the main people to write the updates and programs for the watches, working with Miguel as her boss.

She's like a bop-it, full of weird and very useless quirks.

If her feet get wet, they make the duck waddle sound when she walks.

If she hits her head, it makes the TikTok 'Boink' sound. She runs and it makes the Flintstones noise.

If she stubs her toe or gets hurt on something tiny, she'll scream like Tom The Cat.

She burps bubbles (like the soap kind) and her sneezes sound like one of those party straw thingies.

Sometimes her Wonderland powers play tricks on her. She'll be like 'I'm outta here!!' then walk into a looney toons wall. And she's so embarrassed cause the cartoon noises make it so much worse fhgsuigdf

Sometimes when she tries to run she stays in one place for a second before the running kicks in (like a cartoon) - and Miguel just grabs her and she's like 'Dratz, I was trying to get away.'

She enjoys hanging out with Hobie, though she does not understand him at all.

Like, she's British too - did I mention she's British, cause she's from Victorian England -

But she has no opinion on his ideology because it's ???? lost on her

He's like 'This is a metaphor for capitalism' and she'd be like 'I don't know what that is.'

He's like 'count your blessings'.

But Hobie LOVES that Alice doesn't stick to the rules -

and that she gives the middle finger to the laws of physics by just existing

He's like 'That's so cool, what you just did. Real Metal.'

She's like 'I suppose I am just a container, filled with slowly decaying food - so in that way, I am quite like a fridge, which is cool and made of metal-'

And he's like 'what are you talking about-'

And they mainly hangout because they're both lazy.

Alice is tirrreeed of all these weird physics rules and new technology and non talking cutlery.

She'd much prefer to take a nap, or wander off, of have a tea party, or do ANYTHING that isn't work. Same girl same

And that's it! Most of it, I'll probably maybe maybe not write a post about her joining the society and how it completely warps her perception of reality because she's been trying to get home for so long, she doesn't even know if her home exists then there's this new society through ANOTHER wormhole but she still can't get home-

Oh and before I go, her intro art is inspired by Qveen Herby's single Abracadabra!

Yeah. If you made it this far THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME UR TIME! Thank you so so much for entertaining me I MEAN IT THANK YOU I KNOWI POST SO MANY OCS AND IT'S KINDA OVERWHELMING SORRY AAHHH MY BRAIN CANT STOP I CANT FOCUS HELP

Anyway I'm normal

HERE HOBIE

Bye.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Before I Sleep, Pt. 4

Sheppard never joins them in the infirmary where they finally discover who the mystery woman is. For what ever reason, he chose not to follow them there just then.

They have a meeting about it in the meeting room, and we next find Sheppard and McKay seated opposite each other. They are much further apart now but with a clear eye sight to the other. They are both also seated at the ends of the table with the least amount of obstacle between them. Sheppard is making use of having a clear line of sight to McKay, too, mostly looking at him and not at the person speaking. The shot is framed so that we we are not shown them looking at one another, just out of frame--and we will see this kind of editing more and more; they use negative space that requires the viewer to actively use their imagination to complete the picture. But they are positioned in such a way that it's clear who they are looking at. They are also mirroring each other, both holding their left hand up.

Sheppard's eyes keep drifting to McKay even when he's trying to pay attention to the person speaking. And he's not so much resting his chin on his hand as he is pressing his fingers against his own lips. This is called autoerotic touching that results from the skin of the mouth becoming increasingly sensitive to touch and other stimulation when someone is, you know, turned on.

McKay, on the other hand, is doing the hand thing again. I once wrote a long treatise on Jensen Ackles having made an acting choice to do a similar gesture every time Dean Winchester was trying to not be turned on by something. Just to throw that out there.

It seems like the older Weir is a time-traveler prompting them to discuss the topic. McKay, who seemed to be a little bit offended by her "[Missed you all so terribly,]--even you, Rodney!" which makes it sound as though one would not miss him under any normal circumstances, isn't ready to believe her at face value. We don't actually know how well Weir and McKay knew each other before the expedition but certainly the events of the past few months have brought them closer together, has given them an opportunity to get to know the other person in a way that they never could have an Earth. But it's certainly possible that even Old Weir had known McKay enough to suspect that he would simply not believe he was included in the group of people she had missed unless she literally, explicitly told him so. Regardless, McKay isn't just ready to accept her claims as being true:

McKay: Well, let's not be too quick to exclude the possibility that the woman might be, um, what is the clinical term… nuts? Weir: She may be senile, yes, but that doesn't explain that she knows so much about all of us. Ford: Is time travel even possible?

Sheppard's expression indicates that he agrees with McKay's assessment, which must come as such a shock to Weir. She would probably be more surprised if they ever disagreed on something. Unlike previously in the lab, this time McKay chooses to answer Ford's question as it's relevant. A really cute moment happens then:

McKay: Well, according to Einstein's General Theory of Relativity, there's nothing in the laws of physics to prevent it. Extremely difficult to achieve, mind you -- you need the technology to manipulate black holes to create wormholes not only through points in space but time. Sheppard: Not to mention a really nice DeLorean. McKay: Don't even get me started on that movie... Sheppard: I like that movie!

Sheppard makes a reference to a well-known science fiction film, probably thinking that because it's science fiction, McKay might enjoy it. He catches the reference, obviously, but reacts in the way that people who were likely picked on in high school for their genuine interest in science often do--ridiculing the make-believe science part of science fiction to assert superiority that is really just trying to mask feelings of inferiority. It's a good movie, it's a good story, most people enjoy it. What's not to like? But he has to pretend he's above the fictional timey wimey stuff being a real scientist. He has a reputation to maintain.

Only, Sheppard seems so comically betrayed by his response. He had expected McKay to have liked it. And he tells him that he likes it, like it's supposed to mean something to McKay. He doesn't say "I like that movie!" as though he's offended, he's saying "I like that movie!" in a genuine childlike way, raising his eye brows like he's saying that since he likes the movie and McKay likes him, he has to like the movie too.

When you're still getting to know one another, you've got to at least pretend to like the things the person you like likes. It's in the rules. If they had access to films and the nearest copy of the movie wasn't in another galaxy, McKay would have had an unavoidable evening of watching the film with Sheppard in his near future. And yet, in spite of McKay's reaction, he still chose to share this with him. Sheppard chose to make himself vulnerable, the man who very seldom shares any personal information about himself. Yes, other people were present for this, but it is clearly to McKay that he said all of it. He wasn't entertaining the whole class with his humour, he was flirting with McKay.

So, Sheppard likes Back to the Future. There are many reasons why he might. He is fond of cheesy science fiction, this we already know. Perhaps the idea that one might be able to go back and remake one's life, to get a happily ever after, to get a better version of your family appeals to him. Perhaps he liked the romance of it, and we learn over the seasons that he does have a fondness for romantic stories like The Princess Bride (and War and Peace). Perhaps he wished that he had someone like Doc Brown in his life when he was a child, a safe if quirky adult he could have turned to instead of his parents. He also likes things that go fast, although he has specified that as "anything that goes more than two hundred miles per hour" in Rising (S0101).

Many, many reasons.

The thing is, Marty McFly is eroticized in the film. He is the object of his mother's desire, and hence there's a an objectifying gaze on him. His father, on the other hand, thinks that Marty has the hots for him due to the focused attention he is giving him, and since his masculinity is already being ridiculed by the school bullies, he tries to keep him at a distance. It's a kind of a love triangle that flirts with incestuous themes. But because of this, Marty McFly is eroticized in a way that few male protagonists ever are in mainstream films. Usually, the audience's gaze is the male gaze and you would see this kind of objectification only in "chick flicks". But we are asked to look at Marty McFly through both his mother's eyes and his father's eyes, both of whom view him in erotic terms in their own ways, which creates a very interesting, very different gaze that we as the audience put on the character. And this gives young boys that are still exploring their sexuality permission to look at him with desire. After all, it's an action film, it's a science fiction film, and it just happens to have a lot of romance in it, have romance at the heart of it. So it's easy to see why Sheppard would have liked it.

Also, one of the reasons George McFly is bullied in the film is his love of science fiction. If McKay had been bullied at school, which we later learn that he was (McKay and Mrs Miller, S03E08), he might over-identify with the character (and, given his name, people might even have used the name McFly to tease him; "Hey McFly, I'm talking to you, you Irish bug!").* And yet, Sheppard admires George McFly since he shares the character's love of science fiction. He admires Doc Brown for being a genius scientist. He admires Rodney McKay. This is what he was trying to communicate. And once more, it's McKay's negative self-image that keeps him from understanding this.

Even after he's offended Sheppard to his very core by insulting one of his favourite movies, Sheppard still has his entire body turned toward McKay (and away from the women) while he's politely trying to follow other things happening in the room. The focus of his attention is clear. John Sheppard knows what he's about.

Continued in Pt. 5

.*McFly seems to be a name made up just for the film whereas McKay is an actual name of both Scottish and Irish derivation. We don't know the origin of McKay's family, and given that the name Meredith is Welsh, the family seems to be of a general Gaelic derivation. But it's interesting and, perhaps, not coincidental that in Scotland Mckay is a gender-neutral name meaning happy, rejoicing... as in, gay. Rodney McKay is literally gay.

Children being cruel, they might also have called him McGay (also a real Gaelic name), which may later have increased his desire to take a beautiful woman to the equivalent of his class reunion where people still assumed that it must be his sister--and not just or even predominately because they simply thought Rodney McKay couldn't get a woman. But we'll get back to that with Brain Storm (S05E16), where Malcolm Tunney ("One of my old… this guy") was most definitely his ex.

[kindlingkeen]

You gave me permission to pester and so now I’ll be that stray cat that won’t stop showing up at your door w random junk (in this case, questions & things)

So! Meta abilities / powers / whatever you wanna call em. 👏

I know none of what Jason’s got going on is meta stuff, all his magic and things are earned through different means (Lazarus, All-Cast, etc) but I have seen people sometimes scrap the whole superboy prime/lazarus pit thing and instead make it that Jason has some sort of immortality type ability.

I love it, immortality is inherently tragic for so many people ESPECIALLY the one that’s actually forced to live on. And something about Jason being the one fated to die first (voted) yet unable to actually really do so hurts. Plus powers in general is neat.

But! That is not the only meta ability I’ve seen people give Jason. I’ve seen some where he can travel through shadows, where he can influence the terrain of Gotham, understand animals, unnatural tracking abilities, acid spit, doesn’t breathe, ghost rider type stuff, smth that links him to others, etc.

I love me some flashy abilities but I’m always partial to the subtle ones that don’t look like bunch but are badass when used right.

So w that in mind, if you could give him any meta abilities or powers, what would you choose? what do you think would be the most fun? The ones that could have the best impact on plot n why, etc. doesn’t have to tie into current canon at all ofc, go wild. I’m very curious on what you come up w because there is, quite literally, infinite possibilities. :)

Hey, friend!

Okay, I let this one percolate for a couple of days, and I have to admit, I’m a little stuck. I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about Jason as a meta. One of the things I love about Jay is that he’s just a normal dude (aside from the soul swords thing, but actually that gets at some of my issues with rhato). Like, beat him with a crowbar, blow him up, slice his throat open with a batarang, have his dad beat him senseless, send his buddies through a wormhole, kill off his best friend—it doesn’t fucking matter, Jason doesn’t stay down, he keeps getting back up. He doesn’t have a stable support system, he’s not a billionaire, he isn’t friends with half the superheroes on the planet, he doesn’t have an assassin cult waiting in the wings—he’s just a guy from Gotham who doesn’t know how to quit, even if it quite literally kills him. To me, the meta thing takes away from that. It softens the tenacity and grit that makes Jason’s story so visceral and compelling.

This is not meant to take away from your (or anyone’s) enjoyment of Jason with meta powers. It’s just not for me, I guess.

A meta-adjacent idea that I do really go for, though, is the idea of a sentient Gotham with a deep connection to Jason. She speaks to him, she breathes life back into him to, she calls him home. She’s not going to relinquish her claim on her chosen avatar until she’s good and ready. Now that sends shivers down my spine.

[foone]

Has anyone written an official star trek novel about Worf's bar mitzvah yet? (long post on Jewish Worf under the cut)

He was orphaned at age 6/7 and adopted by the Rozhenkos shortly after, so he would have come of age in a Jewish household. As for "would Worf have had a bar mitzvah?", have you met the man? He loves him some rituals!

And if you're not sure if Worf's adoptive family is Jewish, two things: 1. His mother is played by Georgia Brown, a Jewish actress 2. HIS DAD IS LITERALLY TEVYE. THEY COULD HAVE NOT MADE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS

His dad is played by Theodore Bikel, who got his start in acting by playing Tevye in "Tevye the Milkman", an adaptation of the stories that predates Fiddler on the Roof. In 1969 he started playing Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, the role he played more than any other.

Anyway I want to get a story about a klingon girl being adopted by a Jewish family as a child, and having her coming-of-age ritual with her new family. Call it "My Bat'leth mitzvah"

You know it's been pointed out that Worf seems to be more invested in the history and culture of the Klingons than most of the raised-by-Klingons Klingons we meet in Star Trek.

There's lots of fan explanations for this (the Klingons have lost their way, and he believed their propaganda about themselves, so he's more Klingon than Klingons, or he's on the autism spectrum) But I want to see it brought up on trek itself.

Someone asks Worf why he's so invested in Klingon rituals, in their history, in their culture, when so many Klingons have forgotten the same, and let it slip away.

Worf explains that he got it from his father, who always emphasized the importance of... *Worf stands up and begins to sing at the top of his powerful klingon lungs* TRADITION!

Three decks away, a startled ensign drops a sample container. Within hours half the ship has mutated into kangaroos and Data has to save the ship yet again while Picard swordfights Shakespeare on the holodeck

I wonder if Worf ever mentioned to Sisko that he was Moses.

Sisko: What. Worf: You're a prophet to a people just out of slavery, one raised by another culture but secretly one of them. G-d spoke to you and told you of your divine mission. Because of your actions you were told you would not enter the promised land.

Worf: Remember when you entered the wormhole and spoke to the prophets to stop the Jem'Hadar invasion fleet? And they did? Well, what happened to the Pharaoh's army when they tried to follow the escaping Hebrews across the Red Sea?

Worf: Even your name! Benjamin, son of Joseph and Sarah. These are Hebrew names! You are Moses.

And how does DS9 end? (spoilers) Oh, Ben is taken into heaven on a chariot of fire. Like the prophet Elijah.

I imagine a young Worf coming to his father, excited to point out a connection to Klingon religion he found while reading the Torah. His dad is excited that his adoptive son has taken such an interest, and asks him to explain.

Young Worf explains that he was reading about Jacob, who met either G-d or an angel, and wrestled him until he was given a blessing. Jacob was from then on known as Israel, meaning "wrestles with G-d".

Worf points out that Klingons have no gods... Anymore. They were killed by Klingons in the distant past.

Little Worf balls up his tiny fists. "Don't worry, father! I shall help you finish what Jacob started!" and runs out to practice Bat'leth in the back yard. Sergey covers his face with both hands, then looks upwards and whispers "he doesn't understand... Forgive him, please!"

He'll ask the rabbi for advice later, and they'll be a very unique conversation.

There are many difficulties with maintaining the faith and traditions in the atheist utopian future of Star Trek, but "my adoptive son read the Torah and now thinks it's his divine mission to kill G-d in his heaven and drink bloodwine over his corpse" is a new one.

little did Worf know that the job had already been done, years before he was born, and with Klingon assistance. Yes, I'm going to bring up Star Trek V...

"God" or at least a very powerful being claiming that title, is trying to kill Kirk on a planet named after the James Bond actor. Kirk reaches the top of a mountain (why is he climbing the mountain?) and he's out of options. BAM, Klingon Bird Of Prey, out of nowhere! DIE, GOD!

But it wasn't a Klingon at the weapon's console. It was Spock! (But he's Jewish too, so it was still someone who Wrestles-with-God)

From then on Spock was known to the klingons as chotwI’Qun: God Killer.

(the grammar is probably wrong on that, but if you try to correct me on my Klingon (don't you mean tlhIngan Hol?) at the end of a post about how Worf is Jewish, I will simply call you a NERD)