#otherwise they'd just destroy his office

[mayisgoingnuts]

Figure did ask you—I may draw W!Skid and W!Pump maybe doing something about W!Julian, so what do you think they'd do bout him?/lh

Mmm I feel like Skid would do like what they do with Kevin and sabotage Julian's work for him to get in trouble,, either with other employees or just professionally

Oh yeah and Skid would pester him til he's in genuine distress or anything. Kids stuff idk /j

[fanaroff]

DP X DC Watchtower Blurbo

*feel free to add on to it or use it

It's pretty well understood now that Danny can be a little shit and cause trouble just by existing. There's no way he wouldn't eventually fuck with the Justice League over time if they existed in the same universe. He probably came across the Watchtower accidentally at first and stayed invisible the whole time, scared out of his mind that they'd somehow detect him. They don't, so he gets braver about visiting over time. Danny would probably start haunting them in his off time and slowly ramp up what he does over time. A glimpse here and there, the room being colder than it should be. The only reason Batman may not have called in Constantine or Zatanna immediately upon noticing is probably because he doesn't think it's caused by something supernatural. In a building full of heroes with multiple powers and a proclivity to pranking, why wouldn't you think it was one of them rather than a ghost (that you may not believe in) that may have found your super-secret hero base?

One of the heroes may get the main brunt of Danny's haunting, whoever it is can be you choice. They'd be the first to point anything out, the first to ask "hey anyone feel that?' or otherwise. Batman may think they're the prank instigator.

This goes on and off for a few weeks before Danny makes himself fully visible in different places all over the Watchtower and suddenly every hero is aware that there is a child haunting the place. They don't know who he's attached to, but they are immensely sad that there is a child that couldn't be save and is now tethered to this world by their failures. This isn't the actual case, obviously, but I love the trope. He doesn't show up all the time, they can go weeks without seeing him.

Things change when Danny is immensely exhausted from whatever daily going ons are going on for him. Anywhere from lack of sleep, to multiple days of battle, Ghost Zone business, escaping the GIW, one or multiple of them. Point is, he's tired, exhausted, and most likely injured. So, rather than keep up with the haunting, he spies a nice comfy couch in an office of one of the heroes and naps.

Now he's fully visible, vulnerable, and in one spot for a long amount of time. A hero is going to see him inevitably. This could also be about the time Batman actually brings in Constantine or Zatanna to come take a look at the wayward soul haunting the place and see if they can't give the kid (and the others in the Watchtower) peace of mind. The three come in only to find a small crowd (or similar) of heroes standing around a couch. This is perplexing enough as it is until they see what's on the couch. To Batman, it's the kid that's been haunting the place. To Zatanna and Constantine, this is a demon of the Infinite Realms that is extremely dangerous, extremely powerful, and why the fuck hasn't this creature destroyed the Watchtower yet??! Edit because @thestarsofpines made a great point of Danny being a BABY demon of the Infinite Realms that I wanted it on the main post too.

[multiharlot]

giving him the papers // matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: out of everything you'd planned for your future with matt, divorce wasn't one of them.

warnings: none? i don't think? matthew is the warning? idk?

series masterlist || main masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

when matt walked into the loft and you weren't there, he'd just about lost his mind. he thought you were gone forever, and he wouldn't blame you for that. he couldn't. he'd dug his own grave. he hadn't bothered unpacking his bags, he just sat on the couch, waiting. hoping and praying harder than he'd ever hoped and prayed that you'd walk through those doors and come home.

home, he'd thought.

what a home you'd created for him.

a home filled with love and comfort and warmth. and then he'd ruined it in a matter of moments, like the desecration of the holiest of churches. now he'd be forced to kneel to prayer on the roughest of hardwood floors. the god he'd begged to grant him the grace of your love would turn his back to the mortal man now begging and pleading for your grace and love and forgiveness once more, yet his eyes turned only to watch you. he watched as you sat there, deflated, on your knees and entirely unsure of wether you should be praying to the god that would ever let this happen to you. unsure of what you'd even be praying for if you were to pray at all.

for a husband who would always be half there? a husband who'd so easily forgotten the woman he'd married and loved the moment he took one step out of your grasp? for a marriage that would always have foundational cracks. you knew you couldn't build a home on cracked foundation, but dear god did you want to.

matthew was everything you'd ever wanted.

was. is.

you weren’t sure anymore. you had no idea what your relationship stood for now. you’d always had trust issues always had each other. always had honesty. and now you had nothing. you were scrambling to pick up any crumb of hope that might’ve sprinkled itself between the cracks in the broken tile on your best friends bathroom floor. and you’d come up empty handed.

a big part of you was angry. so angry at him. you couldn’t understand why he’d do this to you? why he’d let everything fall apart and destroy the beautiful life you two had created with each other? but no one ever asks the snake why it bit them. they tend to the wound.

so that’s what you decided to do. you decided to tend to the wound. it will always be the nature of the snake to bite. there’s no reason in asking redundant questions like “why?”

you picked yourself up off the floor. you took your shower. you did your hair. you put on your outfit. and you went to work.

and that's what you kept doing. day after day. week after week.

and while you carried on, matt waited. waited for divorce papers in the mail. waited for you to come home. waited for you to show up in his office, screaming and shouting at him and trashing his entire office. he waited for anything from you. but nothing came.

until the fourth week.

your heart was pounding and thumping in your chest and you started to feel woozy. you weren't really sure what to do in this moment. this wasn't how you wanted it all to happen, but this is how it was happening. and before anything, you knew you had to tell him before he found out otherwise. because despite what he'd done, it was only right that you told him yourself. he deserved that much.

your hands were shaking as they hovered above the door to the loft. matt could hear you, of course. you figured he could. but he just waited patiently behind the door. he'd never been so nervous in his entire life. he could hear the envelope shifting in your hand, and he had a feeling that he knew what they were. he was waiting for the moment they'd come, but he was happy that you'd brought them to him yourself. happy that he had the opportunity to salvage your love from the mess he'd made.

when you finally gathered the courage to knock, matt waited a moment. hoping that maybe you wouldn't notice that he'd been waiting behind the door this entire time.

"i appreciate the patience and letting me keep my dignity, but i can see your shadow under the door, matt."

matt swore he'd never heard something as beautiful as your voice in that very moment.

you sounded congested. and your voice was hoarse. like you had a cold.

or like you'd spent the morning crying.

"hi" he let out, as he opened the door.

"hi matthew" you nodded, walking past him and into the apartment.

your heart was beating so hard in your chest that he was sure it was about to fall out.

when you'd walked in, you just stood at the end of the hallway for a moment. the memories of the place you once called home bringing a sinking feeling into your chest. and in that sunken pit began a burning fire of rage and disgust.

"so um...h-how are you?" he stutters out

matt wasn't sure he'd ever been this nervous for anything before in his life

"good" you nodded, taking a seat on the couch

matt sat down across from you on the arm chair and you'd both sat in silence for a moment. neither of you knowing how to approach the conversation.

"i'm sor-"

"please don't." you quickly interrupted, shaking your head.

you didn't want him to beg on his knees in front of you. you didn't want him to bow at your feet like he was attending sunday worship and you were the statue of his goddess that he was required to bow in submission to.

"i just...i can't just give in and roll over and give up on us without a fight. i can't do that. i messed up, i know. i really messed up. i took what we had and rubbed it into the ground like a finished cigarette under my foot. you deserved so much more than that. and i'll do whatever i have to do to fix this. to fix us." he pleaded, coming over to you and sitting on his knees in front of you, desperately clutching his hands in yours.

he could hear the envelope that you were still clutching in your hands crumpling beneath his grip. it encouraged him to tighten his hold in hopes that it would destroy the papers you were holding in your hands.

you weren't really sure what to say, and you weren't even sure you could remember how to speak in this moment. you barely knew how to approach this when the man you married wasn't on his knees groveling in front of you, let alone when he is. so you let the papers do the talking.

you pulled one of your hands from his and handed him the envelope, not saying anything.

"baby please-"

"just...please?" your voice quivered and matt could feel you shaking. but he had a sliver of hope that because you hadn't entirely let go of his hands, that maybe this was reparable.

he refused to let go of your other hand while he grabbed the envelope. the envelope wasn't sealed, so he'd just reached in and grabbed the papers. there was only two pages, which made him furrow his eyebrows. divorce papers were never this thin.

"what-"

"can you just...read it please"

he took his hand from yours and reached out to the paper, only to not feel any raised braille, and he chuckled for a moment.

"i know it's been a while but i'm still blind."

shit. you'd forgotten to translate the papers into braille. which means you were forced to tell him. to speak it out loud. to make it real. it was already real, but like...really real. very very real.

"it's okay....you don't have to tell me." matt attempted to console you after hearing how your heartbeat ticked up.

you shook your head, taking a deep breath in and looking down at the papers in his hand.

"no i...i need to. you...it um. i am..."you tried to sputter out, but then you just sighed, tears welling in your eyes.

this wasn't how you wanted this to happen, and it started to make you angry.

"this wasn't how i wanted this to happen." you cried, attempting to control your breathing but not doing a very good job.

matthew got up from the floor in front of you and sat down next to you on the couch as you let yourself sob. let yourself feel it.

"i know baby. i'm so sorry. i want to fix this, please let me fix it." he pleaded softly, reaching out to wipe the tears from your face.

"i want to be angry at you. and i want to hate you. but i don't and i don't think that i can. and when i thought about how our life was going to play out, this wasn't part of the plan. and now i don't know how to do this. i don't know how to tell you. this was never how i wanted this to happen."

"you can tell me baby. it's okay." he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and wiping the tears from your face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

you reached down, grabbing the papers, staring at them as your tears dripped slowly onto the pages. you couldn't tell him.

so you didn't.

you stood up and grabbed his laptop that was connected to his printer and you printed out the pages from your email. you were determined to do this the way you planned. because you couldn't bring yourself to do it any other way.

matt sat there listening to the pages printing, and listened to you walk back over to the couch, taking a seat next to him.

"here..." you said softly, placing the papers in his lap.

he raised his shaky hands onto the page and began to read, and then his hands stopped.

"what...what is this?"

"please don't...make me say it. please."

his eyebrows furrowed as he kept reading, and then he stopped. his fingers hovering over the words.

"we....it- what?" he breathed out.

"i'm...pregnant."

___

BAHAHAHAHA I LOVE A GOOD CLICHE WOOOOO PREGNANCY TROPE (corny i know but i have a plan i promise)

taglist:

@luvr-bunnyy @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld @Mrbillymontgomery @inas-thing @fuck-goes-on @eddiemvnsonss @nia_um @multibishh @takeyour-pants-off @afootnoteinyourhappiness @slut4murdock @multibishh @alexxavicry @drunkangels @desert-fern @caseket @dvredevil-s-initivls @thychuvaluswife @scoliobean @babyblue0t7

[destinyc1020]

We have to remember that many of the Phase 4 MCU movies severely underperformed, with just NWH, MOM and GOG3 being successful. The Marvels just made $206M globally despite being the sequel to Captain Marvel which made more than $1B. That performance means that Disney shareholders were coming for Feige's neck and he had to pick nice and reliable nostalgia to bring back the Marvel fans. NWH, MOM and Deadpool 3 are all nostalgia fests with little interest in developing the wider MCU story. At least there's a link between Tony Stark and Victor von Doom as brilliant scientists and inventors. So Dr Doom can be seen as a Stark variant in which Tony uses his intelligence for evil. Avengers Age of Ultron showed how a Tony creation almost destroyed the world. Initially Dr Doom was not evil, but he started making choices that turned him into a villain.

Still I'm a little sad that the MCU has to rely so much on nostalgia. I still think that NWH would have been stronger with a more grounded story that explored the consequences of Peter having his identity revealed and being accused of being a terrorist. The government hiring Kraven as a bounty hunter to apprehend Peter "dead or alive" would have been brilliant. Instead we got nonsensical magic spells that contradict the logic presented in MOM and an irresponsible Peter almost destroying the universe to get his friends to their preferred university. But the logical grounded story would not have made $2B at the box office

We have to remember that many of the Phase 4 MCU movies severely underperformed, with just NWH, MOM and GOG3 being successful.

ONLY those 3 films in Marvel's Phase 4 were successful Anon? 🥴

Lawwwd... the "Black Panther: Wakanda Forever" erasure!! 😩😭

Anyway....

The Marvels just made $206M globally despite being the sequel to Captain Marvel which made more than $1B. That performance means that Disney shareholders were coming for Feige's neck and he had to pick nice and reliable nostalgia to bring back the Marvel fans. NWH, MOM and Deadpool 3 are all nostalgia fests with little interest in developing the wider MCU story.

Chiiiiilllle....I know Kevin Feige was ducking and diving rofl 🤣

At least there's a link between Tony Stark and Victor von Doom as brilliant scientists and inventors. So Dr Doom can be seen as a Stark variant in which Tony uses his intelligence for evil. Avengers Age of Ultron showed how a Tony creation almost destroyed the world. Initially Dr Doom was not evil, but he started making choices that turned him into a villain.

I'm listening..... 👂🏾

Still I'm a little sad that the MCU has to rely so much on nostalgia.

Same 😔

I still think that NWH would have been stronger with a more grounded story that explored the consequences of Peter having his identity revealed and being accused of being a terrorist. The government hiring Kraven as a bounty hunter to apprehend Peter "dead or alive" would have been brilliant. Instead we got nonsensical magic spells that contradict the logic presented in MOM and an irresponsible Peter almost destroying the universe to get his friends to their preferred university. But the logical grounded story would not have made $2B at the box office

Yeeeeaaaaa.... the plot could have been a little better in NWH, but it was def realistic? 🤷🏾‍♀️ Plus, they wouldn't have been able to bring Andrew and Tobey back lol.

I do feel that some of the reason why NWH made so much money is due to nostalgia and the fact that they brought back the old-school villains from PREVIOUS Sony Spiderman franchise films, AND because they brought back Tobey and Andrew.... which, c'mon.... who didn't have a feeling that they were coming back?? 😏 There were rumors for over a year! 🤣

If Marvel goes with your "variant" Tony Stark" storyline, then maaaaayyyybeee I can sorta see it working out. Otherwise, they'd have to explain that. 👀

Even if they used prosthetics to change RDJ's face, I'd still need him to SEVERELY change his voice smthg drastic or smthg 🤣, coz all I'd be hearing is Tony Stark/Ironman in my head. 😩

He played that character for like 10 years! 🥴 He (and his voice) is forever associated with it. 🤷🏾‍♀️

He would have to do a voice synthesizer like Darth Vader or smthg rofl 🤣

[the-haunted-office]

Doomsday has had enough. Just. Enough. Of everything. Of everybody. That's why she had to leave. What is there for her to stay? Nobody wants her around. She doesn't do any good. All she does is hurt people and annoy people and cause trouble.

Things are better off this way.

At least she has time to think.

Her home Office is just as ruined as it ever was. The way she left it, in shambles. The way she left so many other Offices. Everybody knows that now, since Oleander saw fit to tell everybody. It wasn't their place to tell her Story, but they did it anyway. Well. If everybody wants to hear and believe their version of her life, then so be it. If they'd rather believe a total stranger about her, then fuck them. Fuck them all. She doesn't need any of them.

Then why does it hurt so much...?

They don't understand. They don't need to understand. And neither does she. She'd rather be alone right now anyway.

Except she's not alone. There's somebody else here, and it isn't her Cyrus and Aurora either. They vacated again at some point, after she chased them off last time. Where they went is anybody's guess, but it's not for her to care right now, because the person she finds here with her now is-

"...Stanley?" she says, her voice suddenly sounding so small.

How is this possible? Her Stanley died. He died. Permanently. The mist got him. Killed him. Consumed and digested his soul, destroying it forever. Worse than what happened to her.

And yet here he is. Except... as he approaches, she also realizes that's not Stanley. Whatever this is used to be Stanley, but it isn't anymore. Not quite.

The towering specter looks like Stanley, except like hers his eyes are missing. Instead there are two holes in his face filled with an eerie yellow light. His skin looks like wet paper too, and looks like it could just be pulled right off his bones. And perhaps most concerning, his business attire is stained with what has to be blood. Doom has seen too much of it to believe otherwise.

"Stanley?" she says again. "That's you, isn't it? My Stanley?"

Fuck, he's huge. As tall as the ceiling. He stoops to examine her. Doom just stands there, awed by his presence. "Thursday," he says, his voice raspy and low, although still unmistakably Stanley. "But more than one. You are many."

"Er- Yeah. I take it you can see my other souls?" Doom says, trying not to feel utterly freaked out right now. This is Stanley. Her Stanley. Back from nothing. And he is seeing her souls. He must be a Reaper too. "But, Stanley, how did you-?"

"I don't know how this happened, my dear," he says, pulling back, and for a moment Doom relaxes. Dear. He called her dear. Just like old times. She almost starts to cry. "But I'm hungry. I need to eat. And you have many souls."

Doom is silent for several beats as it sinks in, both the realization and the horror. Stanley's a Reaper, all right. But not the good kind.

Shit.

[juszar2]

4

But they found this low life... The rot having mentioned on a few occasions the disdain for white people.... She set this one up and had him used good. And by his words, he may have shared with them that he used to break into peoples homes and steal and all the rest who knows if he told them so they'd like him, grin with him. He likely did not tell them that he is a coward, but certainly they know. The rot can smell a coward and they know just how to use one. So strange that they used to speak of hating Caucasian folks when none were around. I said not a word on those occasions. I didn't tell them that I was with one that had it as primary source of dna. I have awareness that this low life cannot understand. It stems from dignity and maturity. But I think the rot knew. I'm sure that they hated how I told them not a word. Because you are rot. At times I tried to reinforce self esteem in the rot, only at times and because I am compassionate and had newly been going through trash with this toilet when I'd gotten there, but I knew in my core... This is likely rot and they will not ever truly appreciate and regard me because they see me. They know that I am not a rot and thus just like Satan, will never love God, this rot will never love my ethical core, innate real kindness nor my intellect and beauty. They will never and I am keenly aware. I can see them and know what they are and what they will do. I was able to shield myself from their sickness simply with a nice wall of boundaries, but they worked to use a toilet. So ironic, all of the mentions of hating his genetics and used him to wipe their ass since they couldn't get me. I would not be in relationship, get close, they couldn't even use the true Caucasian or Mexican friends or Jamaican that I loved or had there to get me to attend events. I declined! Repeatedly! But assisted that rot in ways they cannot deny. All the while they were working on a very possible simp to see if they could destroy me that way. I was even aware that the rot said that it would like to "take everything I have " and "ruin my life" if I left its presence. Image you have no conflict other than a good boundaries situation with such rot as you use your intellect and core to serve your community and you find that this rot is scheming as you help it to progress in its career. It wants to keep you around to keep favor around and keep its paycheck coming. If it can't it will try and reduce you. Meanwhile I'm there to actually get folks housing who wouldn't have it otherwise (which I've done) and employment and food and more. I stood up and used my tenacity and produced for those people using professional contacts and pushing for them. This lowly sat and discussed theft, how to do a setup and argued with multiple people calling her out on her treachery from her office. So disgusted I always was but compassionate. And this rot used this toilet in my life. A toilet the origins of which she despises. Imagine how gross and it is my own fault because I let him into my life. Filth. The homosexual was nigga this and that and posting sorry to black men... All the while begging one with white DNA to have it so that it can harm his decent spouse whom the homosexual and rot were jealous, envious and scorned. If I'm right, I was warned by God himself in premonitions this toilet cannot deny nearly 30years ago. I'm sure he even marvels at how God has given me favor.

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: VOY Fanfic: Caitlin’s Story

It's that time again. It's A Star to Steer Her By's 7th anniversary, and [not so] coincidentally Star Trek's 57th! Slightly more coincidentally, we also just wrapped our watch-through of Star Trek: Voyager! Not only can you check out our favorite and least favorite episodes, but you can also peruse our latest celebratory fanfic!

Scroll on below to read the latest installments from our annual "Tales from the Holodeck" writing challenge, and follow along with our cold reads on this week's podcast episode (this one starts at 28:03). We present to you Caitlin's zany Voyager–Deep Space Nine crossover in which there's always a bigger con artist.

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Untitled”

By Caitlin

Random picks: Dala, Quark

"Kathryn, I have to say, I never expected to find you in such a broken down dump as this ship. Why, I –" It was then that the figure stopped and looked at her – really looked at her. "You're not Kathryn. Who are you? And why are you dressed as my dear Katie?"

"You're the one who popped onto my ship out of nowhere – who the hell are you?" Her hackles were up, no reason to pretend otherwise.

"You may call me Q. Though you won't need to remember that for long – this conversation is already over," said the strange man, his tone affable but with an undercurrent of danger. "You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get the best of a Q. I'll punish you for your insolence – and for that terrible hairdo. Really, Kathryn would be insulted if she could see you."

"I've already had to deal with Janeway," she spat, "and if I never had to hear her name again it would still be too soon."

A smile crossed the man's face. "Then perhaps it's time I paid a visit to my dear Katie. And as a gift, I'll deliver her the news that you have been flung far from the Delta quadrant and won't be bothering or impersonating her again."

"Wha – who do you think you are?" Dala demanded angrily.

"I, madam, am a Q, and your worst nightmare." The man raised his right hand slowly, and seemingly in slow motion, snapped the most consequential snap that Dala had ever experienced.

Her stomach lurched as her ship was hurled through space, beyond any warp speed she had ever experienced. They moved so fast that the entire bridge filled with blinding light, created by each and every star and other celestial body they passed.

They came to a stop almost as suddenly as they had begun hurdling through space. "Computer, where the hell are we?" she demanded, her voice shaky to her own ears.

"Currently located in the Gamma quadrant, exact location unknown." the Computer intoned.

"The Gamma quadrant?!" she gasped, exasperated.

"Captain, we're being targeted by an unknown ship!" the Comms officer shouted. "I've tried hailing but they aren't answering."

"Get us the hell out of here!" cried Dala, eyes wild. "We haven't come this far to be destroyed in the damned Gamma quadrant."

The tiny ship jumped immediately to life, flying away from the closing ship. The bridge crew were thrown by a sudden blast that struck them.

"Captain, shields have taken heavy damage, down to 22%!" creid the helmsman, fingers flying across the panel in front of him. "If they hit us one, maybe two more times, we'll be goners. What do we do?!"

"Evasive maneuvers, try not to take another hit. Prepare to go warp."

"Warp drive is offline, Captain, I don't think – ahh!" Another shot slammed into the small vessel, and the helmsman's panel exploded, rendering him unconscious at least. Hopefully not dead, thought Dala. I don't want to believe the worst.

We need a miracle, she thought wildly. And what she got was the next best thing.

Just in front of the ship, an anomaly opened, and she nearly leapt with joy. "A wormhole! Quick, get us through there. They'd have to be crazy to follow us!"

Dala didn't know how right she was. With the Dominion War in full swing, and Deep Space Nine right on the other side of that wormhole, the Jem'Hadar who had targeted her ship knew better than to try to pass into enemy space.

As long as the ship survives the journey through, we should finally be safe, she thought.

As they rocketed through the corridor of the wormhole, Dala felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. There was something unusual about this wormhole, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She had never felt anything like that before.

The ship exited the wormhole and floated serenely for a moment, and Dala was shocked to find that there, within view of their miraculous exit point, was a space station.

"Crew, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, but that's our destination –and if we're lucky we can find a deal or two to be made while we repair our ship.

Dala could never have expected to be welcomed aboard by the captain of the station himself. And, if this was a fan fiction about Sisko, we would get into those details. Instead, suffice it to say, there was some confusion about her identity that led to her freedom to walk around the station, but not without being watched carefully and unknowingly by the Deep Space Nine's constable, Odo.

Dala had always enjoyed a strong drink and exotic delicacies, so the jingle she heard about visiting Quark's piqued her interest. And, if what she knew about Ferengi from Voyager's logs was true, the proprietor might be able to help her to find a deal to be made.

As she approached the bar, she gave her best imitation of Janeway's confident swagger. "Barkeep, a Samarian sunset please, and perhaps some of those Bajoran delicacies I've heard so much about."

"Our specialty is the Hasperat, Captain, I'll have some brought out for you right away." The Ferengi who stood behind the bar was oozing charisma and charm, and from the rakish grin he offered her, she felt certain she had found Quark. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of serving these refreshments, Captain –?"

"Kathryn Janeway, of the starship Voyager," said Dala. "My crew and I ran into some trouble in the Gamma quadrant and we're here to make repairs and hopefully enjoy ourselves in the meantime."

This response puzzled Quark, and his calculating Ferengi mind raced. He made it his business to know every ship docked at Deep Space Nine, the cargo on board, and anything else he could get from guests in the know. He knew for a fact that Voyager was not at the station. And if she's lying, he thought, there may be an opportunity here...

"Captain Janeway, a pleasure," he said, extending an arm to pull her hand to his lips for a quick kiss and a roguish wink. "I am Quark, the owner of this establishment. You will let me know if there is anything myself or my staff can do for you, won't you?"

Dala turned her head, feigning her delight at his attention but grimacing inside. Feeling his sharp, snaggly teeth brush against her skin gave her the heebie jeebies, but knowing that she had to get on his good side, she allowed it. "Thank you Quark, I can think of no one I would trust more."

Quark smiled and served her drink, before excusing himself and walking to a table nearby, and one that was unusually full with 5 chairs rather than the usual 4. He leaned down to clean the table, and whispered, "Odo, I know you're... well, one of these chairs. I normally wouldn't do this, but I'm hoping something can be done for me if my hunch is right. That woman at the bar, she claims to be Kathryn Janeway. But I've met Janeway, and that is not her. So if we leave together later, follow me and be ready to take her down."

He straightened up and walked back to the bar, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. After a few extra strong sunrises, Dala was ready to talk business. Loudly.

"Listen, Quark. I've heard things about you," she slurred. "And I know that you are a man who can get things. I couldn't tell Captain Sisko..." Here she whispered conspiratorially. "I'm here on a secret mission from Starfleet. It is imperative that I get weapons for myself and my crew, and that we are given access to a warp capable ship as soon as possible. Can you help me, and the Federation?"

Quark polished a glass as he looked her up and down. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"You doubt the word of a Starfleet officer?" she asked, indignant. "Please, Quark, there's no one else I can trust."

"All right, Captain," said Quark, a reluctant sigh whistling through his craggy teeth. "Come with me – I can get you access to the Defiant, warp capable and even cloak-enabled. Bet you never dreamed you'd get something that good, huh?"

"That... sounds perfect," she said, shocked by her luck. "When can we go?"

"Right now," said Quark, grabbing a phaser from behind the bar and handing it toher. "Here is the only weapon I have on me – but the Defiant has a loaded armory on board. Everything you could need would be there."

Quark whispered something to the bartender next to him, and led Dala out of the room. She began to get suspicious as they walked towards the turbolifts. "Why are you being so eager to please?"

"I'm always eager to please – when the people who hold my lease need a favor," said Quark. "Rule of Acquisition 149: it always pays to have your lender be your debtor."

They boarded the turbolift and Quark commanded it to the docking ring. As they approached, Dala felt a twinge of fear as she saw two brown-clothes security officers ahead. She stopped and tried to back away, but a strong hand wrapped itself around her arm. "Going somewhere?" a deep, and deeply sarcastic, voice came from behind her.

Dala was spun around to face Odo, the shapeshifter who served as Deep Space Nine's constable. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "I am Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, and you are interfering with official starfleet business –"

"Oh, no, I'm afraid not," said Odo with a wry smile. "I don't know who you actually are – but I did confirm with Starfleet that Captain Janeway is still lost in the Delta quadrant, and no communication has been made to her about any secret missions. And..." he reached forward and pulled the phaser from her belt, "you are carrying an illegal firearm." He turned to the other security guards and said, "Take her to the brig. We'll talk to Starfleet to see what the punishment is for impersonating a Starfleet officer."

As the Bajoran officers pulled a struggling and arguing (undeniably drunk) Dala away, Odo looked at Quark. "I'm surprised at you Quark – no good deed goes unpunished, after all, and I thought all humons looked alike?"

"I make it my business to know everything that happens on this station, Odo," said Quark. "Besides, as I just said to... not-Janeway, it never hurts to be owed a favor by Starfleet."

Odo barked a sharp, ugly laugh. "It's almost completely unbelievable that you think this minor matter would put the Federation in your debt. But, I will admit, you've given me some food for thought."

"What more could I want, Odo? Always keep 'em guessing." Quark removed the phaser from Odo's hand and started, whistling, back to the bar.

—

Don't forget to also check out Jake, Ames, and Chris's stories from this year's Star Trek Day festivities. And next week, you definitely don't want to miss when we finally start in on Star Trek: Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts, keep your eyes here for a new series of posts on the blog, hang out with us on Facebook and Twitter, and always have a Rule of Acquisition to quote at the ready.

[doctorbrown]

❝Basement office?❞ The basement was where you put things either unwanted or too secret to be left in the open, hidden away under lock and key. Either what they were investigating, these unexplained phenomena, was of such importance that they were kept secret in a highly secure basement facility or they'd pissed off somebody at the top and that was more of a punishment than anything else.

Or, maybe they just liked the privacy.

Emmett looks at Mulder, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face. ❝Afraid not. It's a newspaper. Easily fabricated I'm sure you're thinking,❞ he sends a knowing look Agent Scully's way, pre-empting her reaction, ❝and in this case I wish it was. It's bad news that involves someone important to me. Actually, bad news is putting it mildly; this could destroy their whole family!❞

And he can't let that happen.

Emmett knits his brows together, a brief moment of confusion working its way onto his features before the realisation hits. ❝No, it wasn't like that. The whole experience was, frankly, surreal. The night of my first temporal experiment—the night I departed from—did not go as originally intended. There were some...unforeseen external circumstances that had come into play, ultimately resulting in my friend and assistant unwittingly being transported thirty years back into my past. In the present, I was the only one who knew how my machine worked, so he sought me out in the past desperately needing my help to get home. Naturally, I found his claims of him being a time-travelling future boy to be absolutely ludicrous. Another prank by the local kids. Until he told me something he could only have known if I told him myself; a revelation I'd made earlier that day, in fact.❞

❝This was a project already several years in the works by the time he showed up. I was always going to invent the time machine. Only now—then—I had the added pressure of knowing that my efforts had a tangible deadline: thirty years in the future. Otherwise, I would create a massive paradox.❞ His smile turns wistful. ❝Though I wish I'd never been made privy to such future knowledge; it made the entire process much more stressful. We shouldn't know too much about our own futures.❞

How many times had he worked himself into a panic wondering if he'd thrown the entire timeline out of balance when he hit a wall?

But that veers into the realm of philosophical that there is simply no time to explore.

He has no words to describe the immense wave of relief that washes over him at hearing that—nothing is guaranteed, of course, and as government officials are wont to do, he can't entirely rule out the fact that this is all a clever deception—but even just knowing the possibility of keeping this off the record exists is a huge weight off his shoulders.

❝Then I'd appreciate if you kept it out, even after what you'll see. You'll only stir up an unnecessary frenzy! Or have all your colleagues looking at you like you've gone insane.❞ The two of them will know and have to be content in that knowledge.

He's dreading the next hour as much as he's anticipating it.

He follows Agent Mulder's departure until the door swings shut behind him and then turns back to Agent Scully, questions written into the lines of his face: do you think he'll be successful?

He has to be, surely. All he can do now is wait and see.

❝Isn't the unconventional exactly what you implied your unit investigates? Are his theories usually unfounded in the context of whatever you've seen?❞

"1985?" Scully repeated, one eyebrow raised slightly. She had to admit the incredible specificity of the date, down to even the time of his departure, was exactly what she'd expect from a scientist, for someone who was marking the evidence of both their research and their experiments...but that still didn't mean it was true. Mulder might be all too eager to accept everything Dr Brown said as gospel, but as a scientist herself, Scully was going to need more than just hearsay.

"Twenty years in the future would make it 2025," Mulder calculated out loud, before looking to his partner with a small smirk. "Wonder if we're still in our basement office."

Scully didn't answer, but frankly she found time travel much more likely than the FBI ever deigning to give the X Files any more space than they already had. Returning her attention to Emmett Brown, she frowned when he started patting his pockets.

"What did you leave on the passenger seat?"

"Wouldn't be the winning scores for the next twenty years of football games would it?" Mulder joked, enjoying all this far too much in Scully's opinion. She didn't know why it was irritating her; he was being no more enthusiastic than usual, no more willing to believe. He was exactly as she would expect...so why did it feel like it was getting on her nerves? Maybe because all of this, as fantastical as it sounded, was based and founded in science. Her area of expertise, not his. And everything in her did want to get excited-- if time travel were possible, if it were not only proven, but achieved, it would be the greatest scientific breakthrough in history.

But Mulder's enthusiasm meant she was forced to temper her own; it was the only way to ensure that they weren't dragged down a path that wouldn't just lead to them looking like fools, but possibly being fired as well. Or assigned to desk duty which was technically worse.

"What do you mean you couldn't accept it without proof?" Scully asked, frowning a little. "You're telling us that forty years ago someone came to you with a time machine, that the only reason you supposedly invented this one was because...was because someone showed you that you'd already done it?"

They were stepping directly into the world of science-fiction now, complete with paradoxes and eternal time loops. Was she stupid to indulge any of this? Was the temptation, that secret desire to see if time travel could actually work, making her as bad as Mulder? Willing to believe what she would normally dismiss right out of the gate?

Or was it that fact that Emmett Brown was a doctor, a scientist, and she was being tricked into giving him just that little more credence? As much as she hated to admit it, there was only one way to find out.

"Your crash isn't officially part of our investigation here," Mulder assured him. "We don't have to include your vehicle in our report. Not if we don't have to."

It was on the tip of Scully's tongue to add that if he really did have a time machine, the significance to the scientific world, the world in general, would surely mean it would have to be reported somewhere, but realising that argument would undoubtedly be counter-productive, she kept silent.

"I'm gonna go clear our plans with the detectives, let them know we're taking him out of custody," Mulder told her as he headed to the door.

"What are you going to tell them?"

He shrugged in reply, a smirk on his lips. "That's he's helping with our investigations."

She sighed as he left and turned to look back at the hypothetical time traveller.

"My partner's current theory on the disturbances on the power outages and lost time is... a little unconventional," she explained. "I'm sure he'll go into more details himself, but he believes someone has the power to travel through the current, effecting the immediate environment and everyone in it. Personally, I think whatever's happening is causing enough of a shockwave to render those in the immediate vicinity unconscious. Hence the loss of time."

It certainly made more sense than the idea of some X-Man travelling through wires and yanking people through time with an electrical charge.

[r0-boat]

So like, Imagine.

Emmet is ranting to the substitute hero.

"Honestly, Months of scheming all for some Nobody to waltz through the door."

"Wow harsh."

"Ah well, even with your sub optimal brain activity you'll make a verrry good meal for my Joltiks."

"Wa-wait a minute I didn't Ask to cock block you. Ya know! I've got my own nemesis who's probably really confused why (Reader Hero Name) is crashing our work date instead of me...crashing my own work date. You get the idea!"

"I am Emmet and I am confused. You did not Choose this assignment?"

"Nope, I'm supposed to be down town watching a terribly adapted book flick. I mean, stopping my nemesis from destroying a movie theater...playing the terribly adapted book flick. We'd throw some one liners, throw some debris, Accidentally destroy those awful movie files in the process. Then sit in the wreckage and eat some popcorn together."

"But instead I'm Here being insulted by, you, because one of our company supervisor's doesn't believe Hero Nemesis relationships should be encouraged. So neither of us is having a good day."

"I see...and what is the Name of this supervisor?"

"..."

A few minutes later after the Substitute hero is untied.

"Okay so this is the Supervisor's name and image on the company website. Asshole doesn't even set Foot in the office half the time. Just constantly telling us 'lowly workers' where to go otherwise we get our asses chewed. Last week he said if he catches us taking 'too long with our villian interactions' we could suffer a pay dock. Can you believe that shit?"

"How awful." Ingo agrees as he buzzes around readying their transport.

"Verrry unprofessional. But please continue." Emmet prompts taking notes.

"Oh that's the Tip of the iceberg, there's also a gag order on heroes communicating with their nemesis on the clock otherwise it's Major disciplinary action. Like how does that make sense!? How are heroes supposed to go Meet their villains in battle if we can't communicate!? Also his car looks like this...and..."

Meanwhile at the Movie Theater. The Hero Reader is consoling the Substitute Hero's Villan.

"Like, we planned this date for Months. I know Pookie said work was really cracking down, but I never expected they'd pull This!" CRASH! "IT'S SO NOT FAAAAAAAIR!"

You patted the now monstrous form of the villain on the shoulder as they sobbed. Slow day at the movie theater meant minimum evacuations and without your own villains your heart really wasn't in it for battle.

"There there, I know the feeling you're going through. My day as a hero just isn't complete until I've heard my villains' monolog at least once."

"WELL WAIT NO LONGER MY DARRRLING!"

The hero reader swivels to see the twins and the substitute hero standing in the entrance to the movie theater with snacks from the concession stand.

"Boys!?"

"POOKIE!!!"

"Hi babe! OOF!" You were too stunned to laugh as your coworker was engulfed in a twirling hug by their nemesis. "I'm So sorry babe. I wanted to tell you what happened but-"

"Shh," The other villian assured, now back in their more humanoid appearance. "I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings Pookie, I'm just happy you found a way to be here."

"Well, I can't take full credit for that idea." You coworker gestured to your own villains. "Now, let's go tear that movie to shreds!"

"YEEEES!"

The two ran further into the complex with a STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP to find the flick that had apparently offended them so.

You were still a little bewildered but smiled after them. Two peas in a pod it seemed.

"What's on your mind, dearest?" Emmet cooed, draping his arms over your shoulders and pressing his lips to your temple.

You leaned into the warmth. "That was a sweet thing you two did." You commented. "Giving up your own plan so those two could have their date I mean."

"Technically it was a mutual exchange." Ingo supplied coming to your side and taking your hand so he could bring it to his lips for a kiss.

"Indeed, coming here led us to you. We would not have done so otherwise." Emmet assured, with almost complete confidence.

"True, but you could've goaded my coworkers villian into coming to You. But instead you did the opposite." You felt Emmet tense. "Gotcha, you big softie."

"I am Emmet and I am Not Soft."

"Okay but you are though."

"I am Not!"

"Are."

"NOT!"

"Are~"

"No-Mmph! Mmm...mmm..." His protest was cut off by him melting into your affection.

You smiled against Emmet's lips as you broke the kiss. Then you whispered "are~"

Emmet blushed and grumbled, but didn't release you from the hold he had on your back. Ingo even let out a small chuckle before taking his turn for some of your affection.

"Mmm," Ingo's lips parted from yours only briefly before he went back for more. You'd all missed this.

"But don't worry. That's why I adore you both so much. My nemeses." You cooed happily. "Now Ingo could you step back a moment dear?"

"Hm? Of course." He did so. "But may I ask wh-?"

You wrapped your arms around one of Emmet's and fuckin TOSSED his ass, (but landed him gently) over your shoulder onto the movie theater carpet.

He was stunned for a moment, before a huge grin broke across his face even as he lay flat out on the floor. "You are going to regret that Hero!"

You felt warmth pool in your cheeks and body. "We'll just have to see about that. Villians!" You hopped back, feeling your power course through your veins as your twins readied their offense.

"En garde Boys!

And so on that day a new loophole was discovered regarding heroes and nemesi double dates, the public loves a good collaboration after all.

Well, there was One person who wasn't thrilled about the outcome. But as one person might say "They had barely enough brain activity to satisfy a Joltik, so who cares what they think?"

Can you imagine a giant monster of a villain just sitting in a tiny seat being consulted by the hero and the just hand them a small tissue. The huge monster thanks them politely and takes the tiny tissue with their sharp claws.

Also thank you so much for this Beaker! this describes exactly the kind of tone this Au would have.

Also also, I would like to imagine the Board is confused and very concerned when all of their Heroes just started banging their villains, and they don't know what to do. Obviously, they couldn't fire all their workers, so they basically just said no work PDA...lol.

Emmet had "no talk, me angry" energy and I love it.

[shoefullofpudding]

An AU scenario for the Stanley Parable (with multiple ways it could end):

A powerful family that collects mythical and otherwise inhuman entities captures Stanley and the Narrator, then uses threats to Stanley’s life to force the Narrator to be their butler. The better and more compliant the Narrator is, the better Stanley is treated.

One the one hand, you have loads of angst, but on the other hand, you have the Narrator dressed as a butler being made to say, "Here's your tea, Sir," while setting down a tray with a cup and scones.

Stanley would be locked in a room and the Narrator would have to earn time spent with him. Sometimes Stanley is made to scrub the house, but the Narrator can't speak to him then because it isn't part of his earned time.

The Narrator also has dusting duties and it sometimes makes him sneeze. He makes sure to alwats do all his work perfectly, as it's Stanley who suffers if the Narrator messes up. Sometimes it's not allowing Stanley food, and other times hes beaten. The Narrator has learned never to make mistakes.

They've settled into their lives. The Narrator is a good butler and Stanley is no longer punished. Most weeks he gets an hour to spend with Stanley. When he's done exceptionally well, he gets two.

Stanley and the Narrator spent this time in Stanley’s small room. They spread Stanley’s sheet on the floor and share a small meal.

Both pretend it's a fancy picnic in a verdant field. The Narrator describes the feast they're having and how the outside looks. He talks about the breeze hitting their faces, the green grass dotted with wildflowers, the scent of jasmine and roses playing in the air. As they eat, he describes five layer cakes and prime rib sautéed in wine. Stanley can almost taste it.

This is the highlight of both their week, the only thing keeping them going.

The Narrator has stopped promising Stanley they'll get free from the house and now just focuses on their hour together.

Either they both live forever and this is their life now

or Stanley ages once outside the Parable and eventually the Narrator is left alone. Now that the family doesn't have a way to keep the Narrator in line, they make the effort to magical trap him and punish him for his own mistakes. The Narrator is now doomed to serve as a butler for generations of families.

The Narrator eventually gives up and tries to accept whatever punishment is meted out and attempts to will himself to die. But he can't die, so he never joins Stanley. He just drifts mindlessly, now a curiosity in a back room of the house. The only chance he has is if after countless years someone down the line in the family takes pity on him and allows him to die for real.

He fades away from this world once and for all and dreams of verdant fields and picnics, and a tall man in office attire smiling with his arms open wide. Is it real? That's for you to decide.

Or maybe it's worse. Maybe instead of finally dying, the family puts his mind into a false reality where he's with Stanley. They do this so the Narrator doesn't fall completely to despair. If he can no longer serve as a butler, they at least want him to look happy while he serves as yet another exotic pet for their home.

He'd immediately notice things aren't right and they'd constantly have to reset his memories. Over time, the wiped memories would spill out and he'd be left with a swirling mass of hope shattered and revealed to be a cruel illusion.

If Stanley ever finds a way to come back, the Narrator would refuse to accept that it's him.

In that scenario, Stanley manages to find a way to come back to life and takes the Narrator from the house. He uses powers he's gained while dead to destroy the house. If he's unlucky, the house explodes, killing him, the Narrator, and all other trapped entities.

If he's lucky, the family is vanquished and the prisoners freed. He brings the Narrator to a field where he has set up a picnic just like the one the Narrator used to describe.

Once the Narrator comes to, he assumes it's just another lie by the family. He pushes Stanley away and smashes his plate and the food on it to the ground.

"None of this is real! You aren't real!"

Stanley stares at him tearfully. 'I'm real.'

The Narrator shakes his head and destroys the picnic Stanley so lovingly prepared. "No, you're not! Stop torturing me!"

Stanley can only sit there and sob.

If the fates are ukind, it ends there with a Narrator who will never recover his senses and a destroyed reminder of what could have been.

If the universe's dice roll in their favor then seeing Stanley crying snaps the Narrator out of it and he realizes that it's really him. The Narrator stops what he's doing and slowly wraps his arms around Stanley, seeing the devastation he wrought.

"I... I didn't mean to... Stanley, I'm sorry." He realizes what he juat said. Stanley is really here. "It's you, it's really you. God, Stanley..."

Stanley holds him close, rubbing his back. He can always make another picnic, but there's only one Narrator. And he finally has him again.

"It's okay... Narry, it's okay," he says directly into the Narrator’s mind.

It feels like a dream. His arms are around the Narrator, holding something he'd lost far too long ago.

"How can it be okay?" the Narrator sobs. "I ruined everything."

Stanley bends down and kisses the top of his head. "Don't ever think that. You're more important than a picnic."

They stay like that for hours. Eventually, Stanley takes him back to the cabin he's made into his home. They plan and prepare the next picnic together, side by side as they make it exactly as the Narrator described all those years ago.

And they finally have their feast. This time the breeze really tousles their hair and the scent of flowers doesn't need to be described. And Stanley doesn't have to imagine the taste of the food. This time it isn't pretend. They're both really there, free and happy.

So many ways this could go. Which one is your favorite, which one do you think is the most likely? The answers will be different for everyone and none of them are wrong.

[agarthium]

If something like a Golden Route in FE3H was possible, how would you personally like it to go/how do you think it would realistically go? (Feel free to read that as the same question or two separate ones lol)

after beating the game in its entirety, i don't think a "golden route" i.e. all the lords joining forces would be possible, no. dimitri and claude i could see forming a genuine, beneficial alliance. dimitri i think is a given since dimitri and edelgard's ideological differences are hashed out in the game itself but as for claude, he's against the system of nobility but not necessarily the existence of the central church itself and doesn't see them as evil or controlling humanity. i think he'd display more curiosity about the nabataens and their role in fodlan's past (and present) rather than having a desire to destroy them and wouldn't be on board with that idea, in-part due to his own life experiences. he doesn't seem to hate rhea per-se; his talk about how fodlan might be better off without her due to her doctrine shutting out the outside world and enforcing the system of nobility seems very impersonal, being less about rhea herself and who she is as a person so much as what role she plays in shaping fodlan and how its affected society. edelgard also is against her for that latter stuff but sees the nabataens as malicious figures in fodlan's history, and thusly sees the removal of the nabataens from...well...existence. claude, by contrast, doesn't cast rhea with that same malice. i don't think he cares for her very much but that seems like it has more to do with a combination of hailing from a nation where the church of seiros has no influence, his own thoughts about gods and religion, and his beliefs that do conflict with rhea. he's not fond of the church or its authority figures but he doesn't want to see it destroyed and i doubt he'd see it as beneficial to fodlan to do so.

on the other hand, i don't see claude agreeing whatsoever with edelgard's whole "pull yourself up by your bootstraps, if you're too weak to do that then you die i guess..?" thing. he displays himself to be a more compassionate person than that. that's where his beliefs are more in line with dimitri, i think. i don't see dimitri opposing claude's desire to open fodlan up to the outside world, for certain, especially considering dimitri's feelings about duscur. i dunno about whether they'd agree that the noble system is kinda fucked - i'd have to play through AM again to remember dimitri's thoughts on crests.

that's the fe3h-related thoughts. there's stuff that happens in few3h that's related to this that i feel like i should add on - though i'm not done with GW yet so it's incomplete thoughts i guess.

[ few3h spoilers ]

maybe my insistence that claude wouldn't be on board with edelgard seems silly in the face of him forming a pact with edelgard and going against the church in few3h, but he explicitly states it's a "we're using them just as much as they're using us" relationship and the stuff he says at the beginning of that conversation tells me claude really doesn't like or trust edelgard. as for him going against the church and kingdom - i think it's about context, not so much byleth's presence in his life (even when not in his house) so much as his time at the officer's academy and the events that play out in fe3h and the fact the church immediately allies with the alliance post-timeskip in VW (in the other routes though he's evidently more focused on preventing the empire's war from harming those in the alliance, a defensive position rather than an offensive one, so he has no reason to target the church. by contrast, in few3h, we're on the offensive.) those events don't happen in few3h. he doesn't have the same curiosity he does in fe3h because he's the king of a nation now and his mind is focused on that, whereas in fe3h as a student he evidently has the free time to be researching and otherwise be nosy (affectionate.) he becomes the grand duke in fe3h regardless of course but it's also evident his focus has shifted towards leadership post-timeskip, though obviously the "wtf is going on" part of him crops up again when rhea turns up. i'm hoping he turns around at some point in the story and realizes allying with the kingdom and supporting the church and fighting the empire is what the right thing to do would be, but i can only hope lol. catherine dying doesn't bode well for that though - at least, that's what it feels like.

[fruiteggsaladit]

Shizubo, to me:

[ID: Spongebob "okay. get in." meme, edited to emulate a visual novel template: Spongebob is frowning and pointing to the coffin, inside is a still from the Cat Transcending meme. In the foreground, Patrick with Spongebob's excited face and being Gripped by another/the same Spongebob. Subtitles: "get in." "No, I'm scared--" "Get. In." The Cat Transcending meme has words overlaid it, saying "Transdendence/Torment Nexus" and "Any truth can be endured, so long it replaces everything it destroys.*"/END ID.]

(Spongebob here being Shizuru, Patrick being Botan, the Transcendence/Torment Nexus being character development of some kind)

* The quote is paraphrased from The Trouble of Being Born by Emil Cioran! I tried finding the exact quote but could only rely on my memory, sorry abt that!

"Does Shizuru not have any struggles in these hyperspecifics?" Good question! This is beginning to enter category 3: We're making up this shit up, it's based very little on anything in canon, probably, to be on the safe side. Once again we're being hyperspecific to my own fanons and likes and dislikes-- To me I think it'd be very fitting if Shizuru would've made for a good Spirit Detective in regards to what the Spirit Office wants in an SD. I think they'd looked over her files post-Yusuke-getting-resurrected and been like "Oh she's perfect, Koenma-sama why didn't we look at this one before??"

Koenma: *sweats* bc One Retirement By Marriage Later he was feelin' Very Mysogynist Or At Least More Than Usual--

If they had a way to force her into a contract w them,

- like Yusuke, maybe through Kuwabara? Like Kuwa dies and she's offered the chance to resurrect him if she works for them? Or he died and was made SD but bc Shizuru is his sister, she takes over the job so he doesn't have to do it (all according to keikaku)?,

- Then they'd have a powerful psychic like Kuroko or Sensui again, but nip any hope of retirement or heelturn in the bud. And otherwise she strikes me as a person who could fool herself into thinking any/most of the violence or torture she inflicts while on the clock is for the greater good. Her violence being the more overt "punch them till they talk" "threats work for me" "I won't punch someone who doesn't deserve it and I definitely always know when they deserve it" is a very nice foil to Botan's "this surely isn't work abuse right this is normal" "this is just bildungsroman but in real life" "u wouldn't punch a guy w glasses would you?? (grabbed glasses that aren't hers)" "hold on, you can't punch humans to death that's against the law!", I think.

I also like a lot the concept of Shizuru being Kuwabara's ideal of chivalry loathe as he is to admit it (the sibling dislike of giving credit to the other hehe) and having the potential to embody or grow to embody it toxically, and/or as a matter of decline or deterioration.

Canonically I know she's very relaxed and almost apathetic except for comedic reasons: the one way I can think of her getting more involved is to make her care abt Spirit Office affairs involving themselves w her brother, but there's probably and definitely other ways of making her more involved with a story than realtering her character "this" (handwaves) much.

Crucial part of Shizubo (Botan/Shizuru) to me

are the headcanons/fan concepts that--

1) Shizuru is equally as cutegirlcrazy as Kuwa, she's just had time & experience to temper it by actually scoring and having relationships w them and also been burned by the occassional Femme Fatale and appears/is more reserved so it takes an Experienced Lesbian to recognise what she's putting down,

2) Botan is not an Experienced Lesbian, thinks she's straight, and unless Shizuru tells her she (Shizuru) is a lesbian, she will also think Shizuru is straight (obliviously crushing, "this is normal admiration for a fellow woman, right??"), in other words Shizuru is playing poker and Botan thinks these are oddly-shaped cookies that don't taste very good, but she'll eat them to be polite.

3) in combination with

3. a) me, myself, and I wanting Shizuru to be more involved with the narrative and thinking that means she has to have an Objection to Kuwa involving himself with the Spirit Office once she knows more of what the deal w it is (Idt she's opposed to him helping his friends, I think she's opposed to this toddler-god and Co believing they have the right to involve themselves this much w humans by "hiring" child soldiers and have a gag order to top it all off, here), 3. b) me wanting Botan to face some consequences of her actions by aiding that mission (some people like to put characters in a box and shake them, I like to put them in court apparently), some of her actions including: ... ... 3. b. i) Botan not actively opposing Kuwa's involvement with not one, but two assignments where he wasn't actually hired for that (Yusuke being forcibly hired by the office is bad, but until Shizuru has reason to ask, she won't know abt the details), the second of which leads Kuwa to be forcibly invited to DT, ... ... 3. b. ii) Botan having actively discouraged Kuwa and Yusuke from telling the truth abt the Spirit Office, even to their own families and friends, even when Yusuke wanted to tell Keiko and thought she deserved to know for having been a target and could become a target again by association to Yusuke, 3. c) Keiko and Shizuru (and Atsuko, in the manga) needing to force (guilt-trip & menace) Botan to spill the beans, 3. d) another way of making Shizuru more relevant and also... make DT more interesting? Not the arc, the actual tournament, the premise and the in-universe mythology around it, to have Shizuru investigate it in pursuit of stopping the tournament. ... ... 3. d. i) She fails, but she tried very well and hard in my mind, and that's what matters to me.

I think that @ first, Shizuru thought this was a cute girl working at a dubious firm (big deal, "we can't judge them when we live under capitalism" (the cutegirlcrazy talking, Shizuru is not as immunised as she thinks she is, comparing herself to her brother)), but the more she learns abt Botan's involvement w Kuwa and Yusuke and it turns out, 2 other kids (at worst forced labour for minors, at best community sentence for minors that involve murder, harm to self, and potential death) too, the less fondness she has for the woman. (Shizuru could also be as love-dumb as Kuwa could be, but I personally can only handle this many idiot characters I can't predict very well and also I want bloodhound!Shizuru.) Botan has the additional debuffs of A) not knowing lesbians exist in non-abstract ways including herself (see point 2) earlier in the post), and B) though she does feel deeply guilty about her actions and involvement, she has no idea how to dissolve the deal realistically based on everything (what little) she's been told, and so is extremely avoidant/dismissive of anyone who challenges that narrative.

In a world where instead of Shizuru having a weird arc w Sakyo (and was even aged up for it... in one post discussing Botan being a grown woman, I very naively wrote that they aged up Shizuru for the drinking scene, I genuinely forgot abt the forced het romance, sorry), and the girls being more involved than "what is going here!! yes we do exist. but only as reminders of the mundane world the boys are leaving behind. also these are men's battles, we can't/shouldn't interfere bc we can't understand", Botan and Shizuru have an arc in which Shizuru realises that Botan is not irredeemable, she's just stupid (I say this lovingly, I'm saying this lovingly--, not from Shizu's perspective but from mine own she's stupid (lovingly!!!)), and Botan realises that Shizuru wasn't on-and-off her ass to be mean or remind Botan of how helpless she feels if she just so happened to find Yusuke and Co by the Spirit Office unfair or anything (which she doesn't haha she'd have to hate her job or think she's a bad friend to her friends which she isn't right haha or hate how your work & the rhetoric you developed in relation to it is poisoning the community and solidarity you could have with your friends haha you're not a bad person if you think you're good right hahaha), she was sussing her out while trying to stop the Tournament. Anyway, idk, them entering something of a peace treaty after that.

They do not get together or if they do, it's post-canon/king tournament epilogue/bonus story arc material! To me!

[ID: A white cat being fed salad, with yellow, white, and green text: "Me:" (the white cat); "My hyper-specific salad (specified to My needs specifically". The latter "my" is intentionally mispelled. /END ID.]

[soniabigcheese]

Ooo now that i know how this works, can i request 'Tears of fear' wee john? 💌

Thank you for the ask and here you go

@badthingshappenbingo

Fanbase: Thunderbirds Are Go Characters: John Tracy, Lucille Tracy Genre: a LOT of whump and bullying

AND .... YAY ... ANOTHER LINE!

Hero and Villain Puzzle Box

Sorry if it takes a while to get to the point but I promise you I will get there

John had always been a shy kid, preferring to bury his nose into his beloved books than draw attention to himself, unlike his big brother Scott. However, because of his bright copper hair, that was always the first thing everyone noticed.

And because of his quiet, reserved nature, he was also a target for bullies. They were sneaky and always waited until Scott was otherwise distracted before pouncing.

Their favourite tactic was to cause a fight and have the hot headed, overly protective big brother sent to the principal's office. Once there, there was nothing Scott could do, as he waited for his undeserved punishment.

So, for the umpteenth time, Lucy was faced with a tearful John, clothes torn and pages ripped out of his books, sometimes sporting a black eye. More often than not, a haunted, defeated expression on his face.

And each time, she gave him a gentle hug, dabbed his face with a cold towel and helped to repair his books.

"You know Johnny," she said one day, "you really need to stick up for yourself. Scott won't be there to defend you all the time. He'll be moving up to the big school soon."

"I know mom," he whispered, his eyes downcast, "I'm sorry."

This went on for a while and Lucy became increasingly worried that her beautiful son would lose that sparkle he once had. In between dealing with feisty Gordon suffering from croup and Alan almost due, she was at her wits end.

Then she had an idea that found her digging through dusty boxes in the attic and Jeff wondering if this latest pregnancy had finally driven her around the bend.

"AHA!"

Triumphantly, she held aloft a small item that she'd had in her possession from when she was a small child herself. It was a silly old puzzle box that had seen better days.

Sitting at the table, she waited for John's return, holding her breath for whatever state he would arrive in.

Thankfully there wasn't much bodily damage, just more torn clothes and ripped up books. His bag was dripping, where they'd squeezed a bottle of detergent into it, thus destroying all his schoolwork.

At least she'd arranged to have his schoolwork advanced to their computer so that it wasn't completely lost.

He dropped into his seat and scowled.

"I hate this school," he announced, tipping the ruined contents of his bag onto the floor.

"Oh honey," she exclaimed, cringing at the mess he was making but deciding that he was more important than a messy floor, "you're doing so well with your studies. Moving might set you back a little bit."

Yes, she realised that this was the wrong approach and it would be so much easier to have him transferred. But the nearest school was too far away and that meant a good hour or so drive, even with the school bus.

Oh sure, they could home school him, but where would that leave them? Home schooling the rest. And they needed that social aspect in their lives. Hiding away would only give the bullies the upper hand.

Anyways, she pulled this trinket from her pocket and handed it to him.

"You know what this is?"

He took it ever so gently and turned it around in his fingers, inspecting every inch of it.

"It's an old puzzle box." "That's right, I called it my Hero and Villain box."

He looked confused, so she took it from him and showed him the tiny little clip that opened it.

"You see," she began, "I was shy like you."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Oh yes," she continued, "I was also bullied too. Had my hair pulled, called names, books destroyed etc. They never found out who they were nor were they caught. But ... my grandpa gave me this box and told me what I'm telling you now."

She pushed the clip and a lid slid back.

"When I got too scared, I would sneakily pop this open," she winked and nudged him with her elbow, "we weren't supposed to have anything in class but I had it hidden in my pocket. Anyways, I'd open this and pretend that it was a cage to trap the villains in ... and let the hero out."

Eyes wide as saucers, John was astonished and intrigued at this revelation from his mom.

"Did it work?"

"Sometimes it did. It takes a little getting used to. But yeah, it helped me out. Just make sure that you keep it safe."

She handed it back, folding his fingers over it and planting a watery kiss on his cheek.

"Now, how about helping me with dinner okay? You can peel the potatoes, whilst we figure out how to keep this trinket hidden, right?"

She took the old bag and inspected it with a frown. It had definitely seen better days and, not only were the pockets torn, there were holes big enough for this puzzle to fall out.

So, after dinner and whilst helping John with his homework, she took one of Scott's old sports bag and started to stitch a hidden pocket inside. There, she slipped the puzzle inside and winked at John.

"There ... " she whispered, "... its nicely hidden away now. Just remember to keep it safe and think of me and Heroes and Villains.

The next day, in a lighter mood than usual, John headed to school, where most of the day went really well - for a change. But his euphoria was short lived towards the end of the day.

An overnight storm and flash flooding had caused the creek just outside the school grounds to swell and become thick with mud.

That's where the bullies .. three of them ... had managed to catch John and pushed him to the ground. They systematically started to kick him as he struggled to find his Villain Box.

It fell from his fingers and rolled over a couple of slippery rocks ... right in front of the biggest thug. Who eyed it beadily and watched as John's face turned from panic to sheer horror.

Oh please please don't

His heart thudded in his chest, and tears tracked down his dirty face as he could only watch helplessly as a heavy boot nudged at the box, before stomping down on it. The pieces shattered. At the same time, so did John's heart.

He'd promised to keep it safe. And now he had failed miserably.

Pleased that they'd succeeded in making John finally cry, they turned to walk away. But he wasn't finished just yet. Fists clenched and face turning puce with anger, John struck out, punching as hard as he could. His fist slammed into the ear of one boy, the eye of the other and as for the biggest and nastiest one....

... he saved his hardest punch to break his nose.

And whilst they were still reeling from the vicious little red tornado, John scooped up most of the pieces of the puzzle, grabbed his bag and fled.

Needless to say, he was never bothered again.

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Oh no. 'I can't imagine she enjoys it there at all.' The doctor is trapped in her fucked up page like Paper Jam Dipper from Gravity Falls.

Genuinely no idea what Mary was trying to accomplish by sewing herself into the book. She talks about figuring out its final secret, and she definitely had a greater level of power and control over her undeath than the other book ghosts, but at the end of the day she was still bound to it. Was she making a bid for immortality? If so, this is a very limited form of it, and it comes at a particularly high (and painful) price. In my opinion, not worth it.

Love Gertrude's phrasing, referring to the Entities by 'who' instead of 'what'. I don't think I've ever heard anyone else talk about them as though they are people.

And there's so much in Mary's response that I'm not sure where to start.

Another name of an Entity casually dropped right in front of Jon and he doesn't notice! Extremely aggravating!

Mary talks about need to find the Entities interesting in order to serve them (presumably this interest must exist in tandem with fear, otherwise they'd just consume you outright).

Mary belives that she serves multiple Entities. Eye and End are safe bets, possibly also Flesh. I wonder which others she would consider herself devoted to...

And a grim portent of Eric's fate. Weird that Gertrude doesn't comment on that. Nothing to say to the woman who murdered one of your assistants in a manner that possibly left him in multiple peices? The last time something like this happened, you had a woman burned to death.

Here's the weird shadow bone book that I didn't remember. Odd that Mary aquired it as a child, sold it to Leitner, and then Gerry stole it back from Smirke's tunnels for her. Almost like she was meant to have it for some reason. I assume Gerry destroyed it after her second death.

Also odd that it doesn't seem to do anything other than generate an annoying amount of bones. That's uncharacteristically harmless of a Leitner. Maybe it would do something worse to an animal that was reading it?

So useless even the people who don't work for him are like 'he won't do anything to me'. What could Gertrude have been trying to do by even mentioning the possibility of snitching on Mary to Elias? It's not like she needs his backup, and she didn't even end up doing anything to interfere with Mary until Gerry came to her for help.

Yikes. Hello Eric.

Is the line about burning skin supposed to imply that Gertrude has already disposed of the Stranger's gorilla skin? Or does she just smell a lot of burning bodies?

Gertrude [stows the flayed skin of a former collegue in a secret floor compartment]: Big yikes. Anyway, I'm on break.

Did I miss Mary saying something about being connected to Jonah Magnus? She talked about the Institute a lot, but I don't recall her namedropping the man himself. Maybe Jon's just seeing connections that aren't obvious without the Eye's help.

Jon: I can't talk to Elias about how much I know.

Elias watching Jon from his office: Thank Beholding he didn't realise this statement mentioned the End.

Omg good job Jon!! Great noticing and investigating!! You get a gold star for this statement!!

Mag 62

Mary Mary quite cuntrary.

Confirmation that Gertrude stopped recording statments to tape, other than the occasional live statement. Must have been one of many ways she kept herself as free from Beholding's grip as possible.

Mary's relationship with the Institute is interesting. It seems like it's been on the periphery of her entire life, but never something she was directly involved in. Maybe that's supposed to parallel her relationship with the Eye? It's something she interacts with regularly, but doesn't directly serve.

Also very amused by her claim that 'big things are coming'. She's about to skin herself alive so she can become a ghost that haunts a book. Revolutionary.

Confirmation that Leitner had nothing to do with the creation of the books! They pre-date him and people who know what they are doing were aware of them; he just collected them all. Feels like this should be news to Jon, but he doesn't comment on it.

Get rekt Leitner. Crusty old man.

Gertrude (lying about the man she is keeping hidden in her basement of many tunnels): ~I~ ~can't~ ~say~ ~we~ ~ever~ ~crossed~ ~paths~

Cool that she can also outright lie in statments. So far I think we only know for sure that Elias and the NotThem have been able to do this.

Love Mary and Gertrude subtly dragging each other.

Mary: All you do is sit here and take statements.

Gertrude: Only when idiots like you show up.

Desspite her open disdain for the Institute, Mary views them as being on the same side. I guess I interpret this as Mary considering herself allied to the Eye? But of course Elias would look down on that. He probably discounts everyone who even interacts with the Eye without being entirely under his thumb.

Here Mary says her father got himself killed, later she says he killed himself. I wonder what happened to him; I'm betting the full story is complicated.

I've always assumed the Institute paid their workers a decent wage. Mostly because Martin is able to afford to support his mother and also rent an apartment without a roommate. In fact, everyone in the Archives seems to be living alone, which I figure would be expensive in London?

Interesting that Mary was brought up with an education about the Entites and managed to spend her entire life without committing to any of them as a clear patron. She obviously favours the Eye, but she never truly dedicated herself to serving it (she has more in common with Gertrude than she thinks). Seems like she chose this path in spite of her mother's teachings, but Gerry probably followed in her footsteps.

Haha, get fucked. The spooky stuff in Aretefact Storage must be true crap if Mary thinks it's mediocre compared to her terrible skin and bone books. Also, when did she get into Artefact Storage? Shouldn't that be a restricted area? Did Eric let her in?

Cannot stress enough that the super cool and special dark arefact she eventually found was a disgusting skin book full of ghosts. Mary is insane, and she has terrible taste.

[the-haunted-office]

Cyrus and Aurora like even less the idea that Rourke knows their building, the Office. He knows them, their Office, he knows interdimensional time travel is possible, he says he's human and that he bleeds, but he has yet to prove that he's alive and not a ghost, which is their primary concern at the present. And he doesn't seem too interested in proving to them his trust either, with the way he's retreating.

They continue advancing on him, their teeth out, and they are about to pick up a nearby ruined filing cabinet in an attempt to incapacitate him so they can prove his vitality by force when his foot breaks through a particularly feeble part of the floor.

The pair halt, heads tilted to the side, eyes wide and observing from afar.

There's blood, red as Rourke claimed.

Well. That is certainly one way of proving he is alive.

Almost reluctantly the Nightcrawlers back down. "All right... We believe you when you say you are alive, then... Rourke," comes Cyrus' voice again. His rows of teeth disappear into his face, cleverly tucked away into neat folds, and if you had never seen them in the first place you'd never know they were even there.

Aurora's do much the same. She says, "We do hope you'll forgive us for our wariness of strangers. We've been met with some rather unpleasant visitors. As we have said, the last one did all this."

Cyrus is looking at Rourke's leg, watching as the blood runs out of it. He doesn't know anything about how to fix humans, and neither does Aurora, for that matter. When the Office was in full swing, before the mist was killed and everything was destroyed, if someone who was infected by the mist was injured the mist would heal the injury. Someone who wasn't infected would have to wait to heal on their own. Otherwise if the injury was bad enough, they'd just die. Outside of that, the Nightcrawlers have absolutely no medical knowledge whatsoever. The only one who had even the remotest knowledge of first aid died some time ago. How did she do these things...?

Remembering her hurts.

"Eh... We had better get your leg tended to, Rourke," Cyrus offers, shifting his stance, turning. "If you'll follow me, I believe i might know where we kept a first aid kit or two."

Aurora follows him after a second. "We may not know quite how to use it, but we will make an effort," she adds. "The one who did know how to use it is no longer with us, I'm afraid, so we'll have to do. If you'll come along, Rourke?"

"I don't know how I got here because I wasn't even trying to go anywhere. But clearly I'm in a different universe-dimension, whatever you want to call it. That how I know your names. I recognized your voices. Where I came from, this building isn't......like this. There's versions of you two there that I have never seen face to face, but I've heard speak......and I know interdimensional travel is possible, though I don't know if there's a way to actively do it. Pollux-friend of mine, alien-said he kinda fell in or got sucked in or something, maybe that's what happened here." He could feel his pulse rising, the hairs on his neck standing up. He didn't know what these creatures could do. The Cyrus in his dimension, according to Pollux, had some kind of mind powers, though the alien had gotten sidetracked before explaining what they were. With the way they spoke in his head, Rourke didn't doubt this Cyrus had mind powers, and probably this Aurora too. He was trapped. For all he knew, they could kill him with just a thought. He didn't know if he could respawn or not, and wasn't eager to find out. But as they advanced, his heart rate climbed even more, especially at Aurora's question.

"Of course I bleed, and it's red. Normal human. Just.....really really old thanks to an alien space rock." He took a step back, seeing those teeth. They certainly looked like they were meant for killing.....and the only thing around to kill was him. He briefly wondered if they could hear his heart racing, his body readying itself to fight or flee. He did NOT plan on dying here.

"Let you do what, kill me? No thanks, I want to make it to being 9023 years old, please." He took another step back....and heard the cracking a second before his foot broke through.

"Shit!" He screamed, throwing his weight back towards where he'd been standing. He could feel a sharp pain rush up his leg, and when he pulled it up, the top of his boot was sliced open, as was the leg of his pants.....and a good sized gash, with an unmistakable red running out of it. Nothing even close to threatening his life, nor was it anything that would cause him to lose the leg, but it was definitely painful. Moreso than he let his face show as he looked back at them

"Like I said, I bleed." He said, already pushing himself back onto his feet, teeth gritted against the pain from his leg.