#shes all for giving computers the ability to have existential crisis's until shes the computer having one lol

[arolesbianism]

You know I rly rly wish Jackie had more personal logs because god damn do we barely get to see her perspective on like anything. Like... What gets me most abt Jackie is that she clearly on some level still cares abt Olivia. Olivia was a very important person to her. I don't think Jackie is some victim or anything, but I have to imagine it hurt to watch someone that close to you drift away and grow to hate you. I just find it interesting to imagine Jackie as almost petty in her coldness to Olivia. Like, the two have been working closely for years, Jackie Knows that Olivia isn't the purely moral scientist she seems to think she is, and while I do still think Jackie is worse, I also do think she had a point when she did point out Olivia's hypocrisy. So it just makes me think... Did Jackie maybe become more stubborn against Olivia's feedback because of this? I think it'd be interesting if from her point of view, Olivia has been actively manipulative in her hypocrisy. I think it'd be so fun if Olivia wasn't just an annoyance, but the villain of Jackie's story from her point of view? I just like the idea of them both being the villains of each other's stories, it adds more to the doomed toxic yuri I think

[hawopro]

Thoughts of a rare soul who enjoyed DMBJ’s Time Raiders 2016 adaptation (1/2)

[SPOILERS]

So I got into DMBJ bc of Reboot Zhu Yilong’s Wu Xie, I’ve been comparing all the Wu Xie, and came to check out Luhan’s. I just didn’t expect to fall in love with Jing Boran’s ZQL/MYP and catch feels for Pingxie?? Once again falling into niche fandom life??

Apparently within the niche DMBJ fandom, there’s a tinier, almost nonexistent niche for Time Raiders, so I have to rant about it.

Incredibly long post, so here’s a summary:

Action, A-Ning’s insole blade

My favorite Wu Xie adaptation

MYP whump and his damned smiles

A-Ning & PangZi + Badass tomb-raiding crews

Questionables things, prop & plot

Pingxie + 2/2

Foremost, this is an action movie. The action sequences are very nice, even with the occasional flying/floating people/objects in cdrama. As an action movie nerd, I approved and gave it 6.5/10 (and my standard is The Old Guard okay.) There’s everything--swords, guns, grenades, A-Ning’s insole blade. I particularly enjoyed ZQL vs Da Kui & Pan Zi, and ZQL vs A-Ning cut.

Characters are pretty fleshed out for a movie, motives and development are clearly established. 

I really like this Wu Xie, personally I think he came closest to what I imagined to be novel’s WX. He is inexperienced, incredibly curious, and daring, but knowledgeable, he thinks outside the box and pulls his own weight, even aiding the crew. He’s BABY, naive, kind, and cheeky af. Refer to How to make friends--a guide by Wu Xie.

But by the end, you know that he matured, he’d seen deaths, hell, he broke his promise to take care of MYP, he grew up. STILL, he made me so protective over him, I finally understand how the entire Reboot casts feel about ZYL’s WX now.

Zhang Qiling/Men You Ping is still mysterious, indifferent; he’s very lost in life, has a goal but almost no will to live. Still OP af, but the WHUMP--so much ZQL whumps with bloody mouth, self-sacrificing tendency and everything. But he appreciates his experience more after knowing WX, like even without shipper eyes, you can tell he cares for WX--the first person who insisted to be his friend, who told him ‘I’d take care of you.’

I like drama MYP but, I completely fell in love with this angsty boy who needs some good sleep. Also probably bc of HIS DAMNED SMILES!! I’m a sucker for poker-face characters who can smile/laugh naturally. Bonus that he only did so with WX! Refer to ZQL smiling at Wu Xie.

I also dedicated an entire gifset on him because uhh I accidentally got attached?? LOOK AT HIM HE’S BEAUTIFUL

ANYWAY 

Here is our favorite forced-to-cooperate gang again. Sadly, the Iron Triangle dynamic isn’t developed in here at all. 

A-Ning has a bigger role than Pangzi, she’s still freaking competent, badass af, almost equal to ZQL. She is not so heartless at the end, obviously cares for her men, somewhat for WX. Seems to have a mild connection with ZQL over their fighting prowess LOL, and somehow bonds with PZ. 

Pangzi is still comedic relief, unfortunately, has little motives and developments. His interactions with WX are hilarious though. They’re dorks together. Although, I found an easter egg: PZ wearing pot on his head again.

I appreciate the side characters in this movie a lot (especially Pan Zi with his kickass martial art). I think they made very badass tomb-raiding crews, both San Shu’s and A-Ning’s; it's clear that (some of) these men know what they were doing, and they aren’t afraid to die. 

Also the props in here, holy cow, elaborated af. CGI is better than drama, but can always be improved... 

BUT the time period is confusing as hell? This looks like old-school vibes, but they had incredibly high tech, drones and holograms? Uhh okay. Xie Yu Hua’s people used drones in The Lost Tomb 2, but this is a whole new level of sci-fi blue-screen computer stuff. And it’s probably very historically inaccurate, bc what queen back in the day had steampunk technology installed in her tomb?? The coiled machinery-ness bothers me. Ignore it if you can. 

English is only better than The Lost Tomb 2’s English hahaha, but not so unbearable that I had to give up the movie. What hit me out of the left field is WX’s flute ability?? LMAO he pulled a Wei Wuxian bc what the heck? How does that even work? But I let it slide.

The plot is very basic: heroes go on quest, heroes face typical mastermind villain and powerful endgame monster. Featuring not-immoral-enough-to-destroy-humanity Hendrix, also known as, can’t-say-no-to-WX-baby-face Hendrix. And final boss: worms-queen with armors and tentacles and everything.

There are plot holes, but it’s an action movie, come on, nobody watches action movies for the plot.

But if you're a shipper, you should watch this movie for the SOFT AND WHOLESOME Pingxie content! 

I didn’t expect it. I honestly didn’t watch the movie for Pingxie because I didn’t even ship Pingxie prior to this. I knew it existed, I liked the idea of it and I would read fic of it, but I didn’t feel a lot for it until now. 

And then BAM, pokerface MYP with a very visible soft spot for WX? Hell yes. Worried and protective MYP who will catch WX when he falls? Also there.

MYP telling WX about his existential crisis of forgetting who he is? “If I totally lost myself one day, there’s still someone who would remember me.” WX insisting on being MYP's friends, and walking around recording memories for him with his little camera?“You won’t be lost.” YEP.

MYP and WX saving each other? “I said I’d take care of you.” Oh, for sure. Not to forget my standard for (b)romance: prolonged eye contact, smiles, so much smiles, and HANDS! They're all there!

Now, there are even more subtle things that told Pingxie’s story on a deeper level, which I talked about in continuation post 2/2 here.

Anyway, I know Time Raiders isn’t related to the main story aside from the characters and certain tropes. BUT as someone who just dipped their toes in DMBJ, out of everything I’ve seen--Lost Tomb 1, 2, Reboot, I’m in the middle of reading Book 3-- this installment is my favorite, barely beat out Lost Tomb 2 and only below the novel. 

[princess-of-the-corner]

Taking a little break from Monarch to write out some of my ideas for how Love Eater and Miracle Queen work out in the Lady Luck AU. I thought about waiting for Chat Blanc and Felix but oh well!

As the Lady Luck AU focuses on Chloé having the Ladybug Miraculous from the beginning and getting actual character development until she’s a decent person and leader of an entire team of Heroes, there is no subplot about her and the Bee Miraculous.

Other things in the AU involve the lack of a Love Square by this point(it was only a lopsided triangle to begin with, but Secret Identities have been tossed out the window), and the fact that Chloé’s parents are getting divorced as Audrey is a horrific person.

So naturally, the entire episode has to be rewritten. I have a couple ideas on how to do this, but one of the biggest ideas involves Senti!Bug, or rather, Senti!Luck sticking around a bit longer. So here we go!

After the events of the Episode ‘Ladybug’, the corresponding chapter being called ‘Lady Luck’, Senti!Luck accidentally is left existing.

This is due to a combination of the Peacock malfunctioning due to being damaged combined with the Miraculous Ladybug ability trying to ‘fix her back into existence’.

As she seems like a real person now that she’s not being puppeted by Mayura, and the fact that she doesn’t seem to have an Amok Item(I forget the technical term right now), they decide to treat her like a real person.

Before I go further, let’s discuss how ‘Sentient’ the ‘Sentimonsters’ are, along with ‘Is Senti!Luck a real person?’. And tbh, I’m going to use a computer AI metaphor.

Sentimonsters are like a program’s AI. You program them, give them enough learning capabilities and executive decision making abilities to let them do their job efficiently, but ultimately, they are just a tool.

Senti!Luck, is like this at first. Sure, she’s good at seeming like she has emotions, but she is following her Programming.

After she comes back with the Miraculous Ladybug, she is much more real, like a real person.

The crew decides to treat her as a real person, and tries to figure out how exactly to do that.

Since they’re still not entirely sure if she’s real or not, they don’t let her in on the secret identities.

Lady Luck drops her off at Chloé’s place and then later comes back as Chloé saying ‘oh Lady Luck trusts me to help you’.

Chloé even discusses it with her dad a little bit. She tells him that ‘Lady Luck trusted her to look after a friend’, and basically convinces him to pretend Senti!Luck is a distant cousin or something if asked.

Many things go into cementing Senti!Luck as a person. This all happens during what should be ‘Love Eater’.

One of the first things is a name. After all, they can’t keep calling her Senti!Luck. I’m choosing the name Astra Avalon.

Firstly, because when Senti!Bug happened in Canon, I got flashbacks to W.I.T.C.H. and Will’s Astral Drop.

Secondly, way back in the day when I was writing TOWCK, I was planning on giving Chloé a half-sister named Astra Avalon. Though at that time I had picked ‘Astra’ because I planned to make her an Akuma called ‘Star Maker’.

I’m going to call her Astra from now on in the post.

The next thing is honestly a bit of a make over

Despite being made to imitate Lady Luck, Astra doesn’t look like Chloé. There’s similarities, but between the mask and whatever Magic goes into keeping the identities, Mayura doesn’t know what Lady Luck looks like and just guessed as it would work well enough for the same reasons. Chloé and Astra could pass as related, but not identical twins.

However, they do want to minimize the chance of Hawkmoth and Mayura finding her.

This ends up being a drastic haircut and maybe a bit of hair dye, and a montage of Chloé digging through her closet and finding her an outfit.

The next order of business is seeing how smart Astra is and where to put her in school

Originally I was going to use Ms. Bustier for this, but… Kwami Buster made me switch it to Ms. Mendelieve. Maybe both work on it idk.

Anyway, they want to see what all she knows. Both in a ‘what grade level is her intelligence/learning ability?’ and in a ‘how well does she understand social norms?’ way.

They eventually figure out that she has pretty average intelligence for someone of Chloé’s age group, and a basic idea of how to act in society, but a weird blank in her knowledge on things like common phrases or popular media. It’s not a big thing, but it’s something a little noticeable.

Overall, they agree that Astra could be put in Chloé’s class, but will need some support in social interaction. Since most of the class are Heroes and know about all this, they’re all willing to chip in. Adrien is already planning a movie marathon to catch her up on things.

Cue montage of Astra loving life and being alive

The class is very friendly and understanding, and she’s enough of a blank slate that she can get along with all of them fairly well.

She’s hella curious since even if she has an understanding of things, she doesn’t quite ‘get it’ until she does it herself.

From music to food to tv shows, it’s all new experiences and she enjoys all of them with a hell of a lot of enthusiasm.

Where everything goes wrong is a combo of Lila being a fuck and Astra having a breakdown over the standard ‘oh god I’m not a real person’ thing.

Lila figures out that Astra is Senti!Luck.

As a liar herself, Lila is good at figuring out other people’s lies. She realizes something is up with Astra due to how many lies everyone else is spinning about her, and eventually finds out.

While the info is filed away for the next time Hawkmoth Akumatizes her, Lila decides to confront Astra and threaten her.

Basically, it’s a ‘you help me, and I won’t tell everyone you’re a Sentimonster!’.

Said help would be things like turning against Chloé and friends, getting any dirt Lila could use against them, backing up Lila’s lies, etc.

When Astra refuses, Lila gets all ‘come on, they might be friendly now, but what do you think will happen when they find out what you really are? Our so-called Heroes didn’t even want you around! Just dumped you on some brat with enough resources to keep you alive’.

Cue existential crisis

I mean that literally. Astra begins to question how ‘real’ she is. And to make the AI comparison again, it’s the ‘Sure I feel things, but do I really feel them or am I Programmed to?’ thing.

She also panics over the fact that Lila might be right. As far as Astra knows, only Chloé really knows that she’s just a Sentimonster. The rest of the class has been nice and friendly, but would they do the same if they knew that she wasn’t even Human? Just a Magic Construct that happens to imitate Humanity enough.

I guess it’s a little similar to the Robustus situation, but tbh there’s also the added in ‘Sentimonsters are something evil’ thing added in.

Of course this is enough for Hawkmoth to Akumatize her.

Due to the nature of Astra’s Akumatization, Hawkmoth now knows that she’s Senti!Luck

That’s bad for a few reasons.

I’m debating on Astra’s Akuma form.

Miracle Queen is still an option, being able to control Miraculous holders.

Star Maker though, I could bring her back. Star Maker has the power to create fighters out of Constellations. Think kinda like the Ursa Major/Ursa Minor from MLP. She could use the Zodiac against the Zodiac!

Eventually Miracle Queen/Star Maker is defeated.

Astra is still upset, but the Heroes decide to tell her the secret identities. They didn’t abandon her, and the ‘normal civilians’ she’d been befriending knew what she was the whole time.

She’s still a little sad that they didn’t trust her in the first place, but they explain that even if they trust her, they weren’t sure how much influence Mayura still had over her.

But Mayura had made another Sentimonster during the fight and wasn’t able to control Astra like she did with Feast.

As for what happens to Astra after, I’m not sure. I’ll have to see what happens in Season 4. Unfortunately.

Maybe she stays. After all, she’s a real person now and Hawkmoth can’t control her more than he can control anyone else.

On the other hand, he still might try something with her, so it might be better to send her away. Like the ‘My uncle lives about an hour away from the city and he can take her in’ kind of way.

Either way she is safe and happy!

As for the plot with Master Fu and the Miracle Box…

Lady Luck doesn’t have to go to him all the time because all the Heroes are permanent, so Hawkmoth wouldn’t be able to reliably make a plan that would let him follow her to the Guardian.

And even if he was just waiting and hoping she would, Astra is the only Akuma this time, so it would happen after she’s Akumatized.

Maybe Lady Luck tries to add a new Hero. Maybe Master Fu himself slips up.

Actually, so far I’m thinking that no one slips up.

Master Fu sees how far the Team has come, and especially how far Chloé has come as their leader.

He realizes that they really don’t need him anymore. The only time anyone really comes to him about something other than handing out more Miraculous is either training Chloé as the new Guardian, or Mylene visiting(Something she does so that Master Fu can still talk with Wayzz, since he misses his friend.)

And honestly, with the training there’s very little he can teach that isn’t either clearly outlined in the Book of Miraculous Bullshittery, or things she’d need to learn through experience.

So Master Fu decides to retire.

While he names Chloé as the new Guardian, she does say ‘this is a hell of a lot of responsibility for one person, so the whole team is getting part of this’. Basically creating their own Order of Guardians, in a way.

Since he’s retiring and not ‘giving up Guardianship as a last resort’, the memory wipe thing doesn’t happen.

Instead, he meets up with his girl(I forgot her name like an asshole, sorry), and they leave the country.

Chloé still has his number, just in case he’s really needed, but for the most part he’s still hella gone.

So, again, I might change some things depending on Felix and Chat Blanc, but for now…. >:3c

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 25

Masterlist

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.3k

Summary: Tiger gets his communicator and an existential crisis. Dick gets a phone call. They also carpool into the city for a debrief and an appointment.

Notes: Can someone other than me please post in the DickTiger omg I’m trying to keep a weekly schedule but it looks like I’m taking over

Warnings: anxiety, allusions to the torture

****

Chapter 25

“Here you go.” Tim passed Tiger an earpiece. “All yours.”

“I still can’t believe Bruce literally offered to give you one,” said Stephanie. “Is he okay?”

Tiger looked at Dick. “Well? Is he okay?”

Dick snorted, which had always been oddly endearing. “I mean, he’s being nice which is always weird but I’m pretty sure he’s fine.”

Tiger pressed the earpiece into place. Tim passed him a wrist computer disguised as a watch, which he used to tune the communicator to his first Spyral frequency.

“Dick asked nicely,” Jason said. “Of course he gave it to you.”

“I didn’t actually ask Bruce to give Tiger a communicator,” Dick corrected. “I just insisted we include Helena.”

“Same thing.”

“And I wasn’t fucking nice about it.”

Jason laughed. Dick glared. No one took him seriously.

“It’s cute when he tries to be serious,” said Stephanie.

“No, it is laughable,” said Damian.

Tiger left Dick to the mercy of his siblings and stepped into the hallway. He called Helena, who answered immediately.

“There you are. I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

“You are a hard woman to forget,” Tiger replied.

“Aw, is Dick teaching you how to charm a lady?”

“Do you find him charming? I do not.”

“You’re fooling nobody,” Helena replied.

Tiger resisted the temptation to retort. “I have arranged a meeting with Checkmate next Thursday at thirteen hundred hours in Gotham City.”

“During the day? Huh.”

“Which means most of my current associates will not be available to provide backup.”

“So you’re asking me? I’m flattered.”

“Helena.”

“Relax. I’m available. I’ll get in touch with your people and arrange logistics.”

“My people?”

“Your boyfriend’s people. His father specifically.”

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Helena chuckled. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” She ended the call.

Tiger leaned against the wall behind him. He did not know how he felt about returning to Checkmate, only that it caused an unpleasant jittering sensation in his stomach.

Actually, he did know how he felt about it: awful.

Tiger had not been a standard agent for years. Now that his undercover mission was over, he did not feel a need to return to the way things had been before.

Even though his hands shook whenever he touched a gun and he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in so long he’d lost count, he would not trade that for a return to life before the Spyral mission. The realisation felt strange. Losing the ability to take orders and carry them out, no questions asked, no sleep lost… it felt like he’d lost a part of himself. A part of his identity.

And yet…

If he compared how he felt now to how he’d felt before going undercover…

Strange.

He was happier now. In an odd way. Checkmate had recruited him from Afghanistan when he was barely eighteen. He’d been old enough to fight, old enough to have a fearsome reputation, and yet…

He’d been so young.

So confused.

He was still confused today, but about different things. Perhaps confusion was a part of who he was. Well, at least that hadn’t changed, even if the source of his confusion had.

The young Tiger King of Kandahar had hidden his confusion, his uncertainty, behind fighting. There had always been someone to defend, or someone to punish. He’d taken the name given to him for his deeds in the place of his birth and fashioned it into a mask. Armour. That title became his identity. It still was, but in a different way.

The name Tiger felt like a comfortable old coat these days, worn in all the right places. The original occasion for which he’d first donned it had ceased to matter many wears ago. It was his, and that was enough. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a barrier and started being him.

In fact, it felt less like an old coat and more like his own skin. He owed some of that to Checkmate, but most of it had changed because he had changed.

In many respects, Spyral was equally as responsible… if not more so.

His feelings were beginning to make more sense. Checkmate felt like a step backwards. The Tiger who’d joined Checkmate was not the same Tiger who was set to return.

Given the emotional state he’d been in when he’d volunteered to infiltrate Spyral, that was an improvement. It felt strange calling post-traumatic stress an improvement.

Well, in reality, it wasn’t his trauma that had changed him. That had simply come along for the ride, as Dick might say.

Tiger had grown up quickly, but only now was he finding true maturity. He’d felt so worldly when he’d joined Checkmate. Perhaps that was youth. Perhaps it was fighting the Taliban from a young age. Perhaps both.

In truth, he’d known very little. In many respects, he felt he knew less now.

“Hey,” Dick poked his head out the door. “You’ve been gone a while. Everything okay?”

Tiger nodded. “I was thinking.”

Dick joined him at the wall. “Oh?”

“Do you find that as you grow older, you know less?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Do you think it is normal?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dick leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger held very still so he wouldn’t move. “We’re getting wise in our old age, T.”

Tiger couldn’t hold back a laugh; he found it harder to control these days, especially when Dick knew how to get under his skin. “Yes, you do look very old.”

“Yeah, and you’re about to collapse into dust yourself.”

“Well, my joints make noises they never used to make. Perhaps that time is almost upon me.”

“Or you could just stop getting your ass kicked every few weeks. I’ve heard good health keeps you young.”

“I would not know.”

Dick laughed, sliding his hand into Tiger’s. “Anyway. What brought this on?”

“I was thinking about Checkmate. I was barely eighteen when they recruited me in Afghanistan.”

“And I bet you thought you knew everything.”

“To be fair, I had repelled my fair share of Taliban attacks.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive. Some cockiness is to be expected.”

“I may also have wrestled a tiger.”

“Shit. Really?”

“You will never know if I’m telling the truth.”

“You bastard,” Dick murmured.

“I volunteered for the Spyral mission,” Tiger said. He hadn’t set out to share that information, but maybe he’d needed to say it. He’d had few opportunities to talk about it with anyone.

Dick looked up at him; there was some kind of tension behind his eyes that made Tiger suspect he would have another migraine soon. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Not much of one. I was well-respected in Checkmate, but I wanted to get away.”

“So you volunteered for a deep cover mission. Naturally. Why did you want to get away?”

That wasn’t something Tiger liked to think about. He already regretted opening his mouth. He wondered if his reason was still with Checkmate, or whether things had changed there as well.

Dick took the hint. “Ah, well. Story for another time? I’m a great listener.”

“I know.”

***

The worst of the migraine had passed, but Dick still winced whenever he saw too much light. Or heard anything louder than a whisper. Tiger was elsewhere; Dick didn’t like anyone seeing him like this, even if he could tolerate another person’s presence when the pain was at its worst.

He sat on the bed in the dark, slowly sipping a glass of water. Tension still bunched in his muscles; he’d learned from experience that it wouldn’t go away properly until he found the strength to move around and stretch. For now, though, he’d just have to deal.

His phone vibrated, which set his teeth on edge. Tim had messed with the settings so the backlight didn’t hurt as much when he looked at the screen, but he still had to do it quickly. It was Kory.

She didn’t call very often. He picked up right away and put the phone on speaker so he could keep it away from his aching head.

“Hello?”

“Dick?”

“The one and only.”

Kory let out a breath. “Oh, X’Hal. It’s true. You’re back.”

“Back and better than ever,” Dick said dryly; he wasn’t sure she’d pick up on the sarcasm, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. “Jason run his mouth?”

“Who else?”

“Good point.”

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long few months. I’ll be fine.” A phone conversation wasn’t the ideal platform to hash out what exactly had been going on and why he sounded half-dead. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well.”

“Seen Roy lately?”

Starfire chuckled. “Yes. He just left.”

“Tell him I say hi next time you see him… which I’m sure will be soon.”

“Dick…”

“I’m not mad, Kory. We’ve both moved on. Go forth, be merry.”

“You say the strangest things.”

“You talk to Jason on the regular. I think your opinion of strange is a bit skewed.”

“You’re probably right.” Kory hummed softly. “Jason says you’re living with your family again.”

“Yeah, some stuff went down on the tail end of my mission. Needed to find my feet.”

“Yes, your mission.” Kory’s voice hardened. “The mission where you faked your death.”

Dick sighed; he should’ve expected this. “I’m sorry I put you through that. Just because I needed to be dead in the eyes of the public didn’t mean I needed to be dead to the people I care about.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised that.” She still sounded pissed. That was valid.

“You ever find yourself in Gotham?” Dick asked. “We should talk properly. Face to face.”

“I might be in the neighbourhood next week. To visit Jason.”

“And if we happen to bump into each other, that’ll be a happy coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Text me the details. When you have them.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll give the big guy some warning so he doesn’t get mad about metahumans in the city again.”

Kory laughed. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Dick set the phone aside and pressed his fingers into his temples. It had been easy enough to block out the pain while talking to Kory, but now it was coming back with a vengeance.

Still, he was glad for the phone call. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kory. And the last time she’d seen him was at his funeral. Not exactly conducive to conversation.

It would be good to see her. He still loved her, in a way, but the need to have her to himself had long since dissipated. Enough time had passed that he could genuinely be happy for her when she saw other people.

Yeah. Now was a good time to clear the air between them. If things went well, maybe she’d like to meet Tiger.

***

The day to visit Checkmate came before Tiger was prepared for it. Even the morning prayer had done little to soothe his nerves.

It didn’t help that Dick was coming off another migraine. He made it to breakfast with Tiger, but neither of them had much of an appetite. Tiger had told Dick to go back to bed several times, but he refused.

“Good news,” Dick said quietly, picking at the fruit salad Alfred had made. “We’re carpooling today.”

“This is the first I am hearing of it.”

“Only got confirmed last night,” Dick said. “I’m seeing a specialist in Gotham, so Alfred’s driving both of us into the city. We’ll drop you off first.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?”

“The sunglasses aren’t just for decoration.” Dick patted his shirt pocket. “I’ll manage.”

Tiger had to admit having Dick close for the journey made him feel better. He stopped protesting.

“Does this specialist know what they are doing?” Damian said, stabbing a waffle with his usual fervour.

“It’s the same guy who stopped my head exploding on a near-nightly basis,” Tim replied. “He’s legit.”

“Your migraines are a result of inferior genetics, Drake, not a torture machine.”

Tim looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Damian eyed him for a moment longer, until he evidently decided Tim was not going to react the way he wanted him to. Then Dick caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

Damian scowled. “I apologise, Drake.”

“Sure.” Tim said absent-mindedly, more focused on his coffee.

“Anyway…” Dick finally picked up some pineapple on his fork. “I don’t know if the specialist can help, but I’m willing to give it a shot. At this point, I’ll try anything.”

Dick looked exhausted. Tiger knew for a fact he was, in fact, as tired as he looked. Neither of them had slept well last night. Dick was abstaining from coffee and Tiger did not need caffeine shakes, so there was no respite on the horizon.

Once it was time to leave, they’d both managed to choke down some breakfast. Cassandra had gone ahead to meet Helena; they would remain near the building but would not enter unless absolutely necessary. Tiger did not need an extra set of eyes over his shoulder. He would be under enough scrutiny already.

He was grateful they would be close by if needed, however.

Dick still flinched in the sunlight, but he appeared to shake it off. They sat together in the back of the car while Alfred drove.

“Should you require an earlier pickup than anticipated, sir,” said Alfred, “call me and I will come. Should you lose access to your phone, I use the family’s communication frequency. Master Dick, if you would…?”

“Sure.” Dick held out his palm. Tiger dropped the communicator in his hand. Dick pressed a few buttons on his watch, frowning. Or perhaps squinting. After a moment, the communicator beeped softly and Dick handed it back.

Tiger put it in his ear. “I may need to surrender my devices.”

Dick made a pulling motion from his watch and a dim holographic display grew from it. He pressed a few holographic keys and then held his wrist close to Tiger.

“Give it a few words.”

“Hello, watch.” Tiger grimaced. “I feel ridiculous.”

The watched beeped and Dick pulled back. “That was enough. Okay, you should be able to program any communicator to patch you into our frequency. You’ll be asked to give voice confirmation. If something really bad happens, which I doubt it will, it’ll also work on all cell phones, Gotham payphones and some kitchen appliances.”

“What?”

“Wayne Enterprises gets everywhere, babe.”

Tiger would never get used to that nickname, but at least it was a pleasant feeling. He still did not feel ready when Alfred parked the car near the nondescript office building that housed Checkmate’s Gotham outpost.

Dick kissed his cheek. “You’ll be okay. We won’t be far. And Cass and Helena will be on hand if something weird happens. Which it probably won’t.”

“Yes, very comforting.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick squeezed both his hands. “You just did them a massive favour. As far as I’m concerned, the least they can do is listen to you about Bannon.”

That name always felt like a lance through his stomach. He nodded silently and slid out of the car.

As they drove off, Dick blew him a kiss out the window. Tiger tried to burn that image into his mind. He could use some encouragement once he was inside.

He approached the glass doors. They slid open for him. He stepped through, heart pounding in his throat.

He paused in the lobby. Breathed. The lobby itself was deliberately dull and sterile. Not the kind of place someone would walk into by accident. Unless they were trying to escape a murderer, Tiger supposed.

The woman at the front desk was a stranger, probably a newer agent who joined after Tiger had gone undercover. She seemed to recognise him anyway and waved him through the next set of doors. Here, things became more interesting.

A security guard passed Tiger a plastic tub. He put his communicator, watch and phone inside. Then he removed his shoes and placed them on the conveyor belt.

“We’ll need to confiscate your electronics,” the guard said. “You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Tiger passed through a body scanner and retrieved his shoes on the other side. He was almost certain Bruce had hidden a tracker on him, but it was clearly disguised enough or of such little consequence that security did not feel the need to search and destroy.

Another receptionist was seated behind another desk, this time close to a pair of grey elevators. “Welcome back, Bishop Five,” he said, stamping a barcode onto the back of Tiger’s hand. “You’re needed on level ten. Have a nice day.”

Tiger stepped into the elevator and tapped the back of his hand against the card reader. Level ten selected itself and the doors sealed him in the elevator.

Tiger fell into parade rest. He shut his eyes and took deep, slow breaths. He had never been to the Gotham City branch of Checkmate before, so it was unlikely he would run into many people who knew him. Maxwell Lord was probably here, and perhaps Amanda Waller, but anyone else? No.

The doors let out a ding and slid open. Tiger stepped out, feeling calmer. He had no reason to feel anxious. He had done his job. All he needed to do was report in and give his recommendations.

And possibly attend an evaluation, which he would likely fail. Then again, it was more likely they would schedule it for another day. If all went to plan, he would not be here for long.

Tiger started down the hallway. The barcode on his wrist would automatically open the correct door once he reached it, and this place was linear. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He had nothing to—

A door up ahead slid open. An agent stepped into the hallway. They locked eyes, and recognition sparked between them.

“Eimal,” Tiger breathed.

“Tiger.” Eimal’s face broke into an uneasy smile. The man was handsome as ever… his dark, intelligent eyes; his nose slightly crooked from being broken one too many times; his thick, black hair…

This was exactly who Tiger had not wanted to see.

Eimal’s smile relaxed, just a small amount. “It’s good to see you.”

Tiger couldn’t answer. He suddenly felt much younger, in the throes of heartbreak once again. That was a dangerous feeling. He made rash decisions when he felt like this. He had to breathe. Had to control it. This feeling was nothing more than the ghost of a relationship long since dead.

He swallowed. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Lord thought you might like to see a friendly face.” Eimal’s smile turned pained. “I had hoped enough time had passed that…”

Tiger did not know how to respond. He often felt clumsy and slow around Eimal. The man was a few years older and, he’d once believed, much wiser. He had joined Checkmate before Tiger and had been among the first to welcome him. Meeting another Pashtun had helped keep the homesickness at bay for them both.

“The past is the past,” Tiger finally said, hoping he sounded firm. He did not feel firm. He felt like the ground would soon crumble beneath him.

A flash of hurt appeared in Eimal’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Tiger might have imagined it. “Well, it was good to see you. Don’t keep Lord waiting.” He gestured to the door at the end of the hall.

“Thank you.” Tiger didn’t know what else to say. Eimal stepped aside to let him pass. Tiger felt like he was walking through water. When he turned back, Eimal was gone.

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again - Chapter 7

Whole Again on AO3

Stanford had been wandering back and forth between the main cabin and the engine room for nearly half the day. He’d heard some rifling of papers and the soft ‘thump’ of books being shifted and re-shelved. He also suspected Sixer had send a few texts out to Dipper; the telltale clicks of Ford’s untrimmed nails on the touch screen and quiet cursing as he struggled with the device. His Sixer would always be more comfortable with analogue medium, but Stan figured that slow adjustment to recent technology was due to Ford’s experience with alien technology. It was like trying to get a teen from today with smartphones and the internet to work and program an IBM 7030 supercomputer. Heck, he and Sixer had grown up during the golden age of super computers the size of whole rooms and he doubted either one of them could program one. Although, Ford had built an interdimensional gateway and Stan had built and programed an interdimensional biomolecular scanner, but…eh, it didn’t matter if the analogy worked exactly. Sixer would get the hang of texting eventually.

What bothered Stan now was the fact that Ford had been, not avoiding him exactly, but rather making an effort to be elsewhere. Stan wanted to head back into town and get the twins some presents, maybe even send them out if they could, but Sixer was too wrapped up in his current project. He was trying very, very hard not to let his worry tap into Sixer’s mind, and he was letting paranoia set in over Stanford’s knowledge of his ‘condition’. Sixer was fine. He hadn’t noticed anything. Stan had come up with reasonably credible excuses for his slip-ups. He was in the clear…right? Stanford was even warm and open that morning and showed no signs that he thought that an evil demonic dream triangle had been reborn as his brother and said brother had regained all his memories. If Stanford was acting normal, then it was all good…maybe. Stan knew he should have left well enough alone.

Sixer had had another nightmare. Stan had woken up to a damp shirt collar and Sixer reaching across the center table to wring his hands in Stan’s shirt. They’d been at sea for months, and sure Sixer had been struck by nightmares before, but he’d not actively reached out to Stan before. Stan was usually the one to initiate comfort. What had gotten Sixer worked up this time?

Stan had run his fingers over Ford’s, slowly urging him to let go so Stan could roll over. His eyes were met with Ford’s brow, beaded with cold sweat and eye’s clenched tight. He really shouldn’t risk it so soon, influencing his brother’s dreams, but his heart ached and Ford was unconsciously seeking comfort. He raised his hand, thumb faintly flickering blue and rubbed tiny circles beside Ford’s eye. Stan felt his eyes shift before being pulled into Ford’ dreams.

Bill…again. It usually was when Ford divulged the topic of his night terrors to Stan. Before it was reasonable, expected, and matched Stan’s own concerns. Now it was just wearisome and a bit annoying, if not troublesome now that Stan remembered. Now that he was slowly regaining his abilities. For now, he would deal with Ford’s fears and deal with the rest when it came; it really was physically taxing to do this in human form.

He Bill was again taunting Ford, reminding him of their deal, of how it had never been officially severed. It had as soon as Ford had stopped work-…wait. Had it? To break a deal, either partner had to retract their promise; He had supplied Stanford with the knowledge his brother craved and in return, Sixer had tried to build a portal. Succeeded in building. Sixer had succeeded and only after he realized where the portal opened to (after it was open) did he shut it down and make efforts to keep Stan Bill from entering his mind. Their deal, their bond, had never been revoked. Well, Shit. This put a wrench in the cogs. Damnit.

Stan let his dreamscape projection shift into the younger image that Ford’s mind designated and wandered into the wheat field. By the time he got to Sixer’s side, dreamBill had taken on his Bipper form (He didn’t care what Shooting Star said, it was a terrible name. It made it sound like they were a Power Couple), and Ford was in pleading and desperate tears. Now Ford’s actions made sense. Stan used his power to dispel Bipper the same way he had lost control before, by pulling Ford’s mental Mabel out and having her tickle the fiend into submitting. Looking back on it now, it was ingenious to use Dipper’s weakness against him, if a bit humiliating. The Bipper manifestation laughed himself into a puff of smoke and Stan drew out Ford’s inner Dipper to take his place.

Ford was exuberant. “KIDS!” He embraced the two siblings in a bone crushing embrace. “Oh, God, Thank you. Shhhh, it’s ok. I’ve got you. He’s gone now.” Ford rocked the two back and forth and the dream siblings responded the way Ford expected them to; they cried and clung back. Stan took the last few steps to reach them and laid a hand down on Sixer’s head, ruffling his hair. “You alright there, Poindexter?”

Sixer turned his head up to look at Stan, face still mended from the last time he was here, and took a sigh of relief. When Sixer didn’t say anything, just held the kids and smiled up at Stan. “You wanna take the kids and play on the swings, or give’em a tour o’ the Stan O’War?” He really didn’t know what to do here. Ford let go of the kids and stood, turning to face Stan. The siblings took each of Ford’s hands in theirs. “I think….that’s a great idea.” Ford’s face seemed to melt and lose all trace of fear or worry. “Well, let’s get to it.”

Stan stayed in Ford’s dream so long, he himself fell asleep, consciousness pulling back into his body just before falling into REM sleep. He’d woken up to a cup of coffee being held under his nose and Sixer smirking at him.      

They’d gone through the treasure haul after a few more cups of coffee each to help an embarrassing set of hangovers. The coins were sorted into piles based on metal type and likely country of origin; Stan had pulled up a book on Ford’s tablet on old coins that had helped and subtly showed Ford how to use the app. A number of coins were set in a bowl of distilled vinegar to get them clean. The gems were sorted by type, size and cut ; Stan kept some gems for himself and the kids: a pink rough stone that Ford identified as Tugtupite for Mable, a light blue and white swirl stone that reminded Stan of the color of the ocean near shore for Dipper (Ford called it Larimar), and a piece of ‘Fool’s Gold” for himself (he was all too familiar with it, having sold it in the Mystery Shack as real gold a few times). He urged Sixer to pick one out, finally choosing a piece of snowflake obsidian that had been shaped into a blade point. Stan also snagged a piece of rhodonite while Ford wasn’t looking. The rest were put in a pile to be dealt with in experimentation, gifts or be sold. Stan swiped a ring with two interlocking triangles. He also pretended not to see Ford wrap a leather band with a compass (Vegvisir, a symbol to provide guidance to wayward souls, Stan’s inner Nerd provided) around his left wrist and conveniently forget to take it off. There were a few other pendants with various symbols that Ford didn’t recognize and Stan refused to recognize and were set aside for later study. The scrolls were gathered and quickly brought to the top cabin with the rest of Stanford’s research material. And that was the last Stan saw of Ford, except for the occasional trip down to the engine room where Ford stored his more volatile experiments.

And that was it. Now here Stan was, sitting in the galley texting back and forth with Mabel about what they wanted for Christmas and assuring her that he and his brother didn’t need presents (and not being able to give her an address to send it to anyway). And Ford was furtively zipping back and forth between the cabin and the engine room, trailing papers, and rank odors with him.  

Stanford’s actions were normal, (well normal for Stanford, they were bordering on unhinged for other people) so everything was fine. He just need to play the part of lovable and eccentric con man until he could adjust to his new memories. He could do that. He’d been a con man his whole existence, it was his bread and butter. However, he had never had to beat down an oncoming existential crisis that he could not deal with in present company.

What was even more alarming, was Mable had picked up on his suspicious knowledge. Mabel had been working on some holiday chemistry homework  and was having difficulty figuring out how to balance chemical equations and Dipper was texting Ford.

I wanna ask Grunkle Ford how to do it, but Dipper has been texting him for like 10 whole hours about science.

Maybe I could help.

No offense Grunkle Stan, but you’re not all that sciencey.

Try me.

She sent over a picture of her homework and Stan worked it out on a napkin. It really was simple,

6 CO2 + 6 H2O �� C6H12O6 + 6 O2

He took a picture of his work and sent it back to her with a brief explanation.

You have to remember to count your elements. See how there are 18 O’s on the left, you have to keep the same amount on the right. Take a look at your next problem and work it through with me.

Wow Grunkle Stan! I just checked with Dipper and it was right! Did Grunkle Ford help you?

Crap.

Hey, I know some science too, I fixed the portal remember.

True. Ok, the next one has a lot of B’s in it.

They worked through the second problem together and he instructed her to try the next few on her own. He needed to be more careful.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was two hours until dinner when Ford came down and approached Stan. Stan, meanwhile, had kept himself busy by flipping through several different online articles on dream psychology and mental manipulation while having an Arctic Fishing article open in case Ford walked too close.

Ford looked exhausted, and a bit crazed, like he’d been obsessing over something. However, as soon as he noticed Stan looking, his demeanor changed, perked, and nearly split his face with a disingenuous grin. Stan did his best not to be offended by his brother hiding things. Ford was an inherently closeted person; wasn’t the whole reason everything came crashing down around them was Stanford’s inability to place his trust in others? He’d been trying, so, so hard, Stan wasn’t expecting Ford to share everything.

And, he would be a hypocrite if he said there should be no secrets between them. Ford wasn’t the only one hiding behind a veil of charm.  

“How are you feeling about heading out for dinner tonight? We’ve got a few more days before we need to renew our tourist visas.” Stan blinked at his own choice of words. He had become acutely aware that his inner voice and speaking voice no longer mimicked one another. He had tried to continue his habit of running words together and using slang; He’d let his accent slip. Stan wanted to blame it on the fact that he hadn’t spoken much that day. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. The truth was, it was exhausting, needing to be careful about his pronunciations, how much knowledge he had (he’d already let some things slip), and how much he was aware of the things around him.

Ford, however, didn’t respond, either waving it off or just not taking the time to care. All he did was collect the envelope of local currency from the drawer by the stairs, and smiled at Stan. “Bistro?” Stan nodded, “Sure.”

Ford looked…soft. Just…soft. Stan was overwhelmed by the desire to hug his brother, to bury his face in the crook of Sixer’s neck and…and what? His gums tingled. He wished he still had real teeth.

Stan blinked his mind clear and watched Ford take the steps to the main cabin. He joined Ford on deck not to long after, choosing to throw on his red and gold leaf Hawaiian shirt under his trench coat as an excuse for dawdling. It was happening again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour and a half later they were walking along the boardwalk, a bit reminiscent of the one in Glass Shard Beach, although the chill November air and soft snow meant everything was closed for the season. They’d eaten at a tiny little diner about a seven-minute taxi ride from the docks. The interior had been done up in brick and arches and looked like and old subway tunnel system. They served soul food, and Stan felt his mouth water at the broasted chicken while Ford hummed with delight at baked ziti. Greasy though his meal was, Stan liked at every morsel. They had shared a fudge lava cake for desert. No alcohol this time; they’d learned their lesson.

Ford had suggested they walk back to the docks, ‘to work-off their dinner’ as the saying goes, but Stan could sense Ford was trying to ease back into walking. They were both still sore from overexerting themselves; part of the reason they’d indulged the night before, to numb the pain. Ford had developed a multicolored bruise on his abdomen, but the swelling in his hand had gone down enough that he could use it, albeit still weak. Stan hesitated only a few moments before interlacing his fingers with Ford’s, protecting it, keeping it.

Damnit! It was starting again. He was losing control of his thoughts; impulses creeping in to take over his mind and his new mental state not being one that complied with ignoring those impulses. Not that he ever had it easy denying his impulses, but when he had been just half of who he is, it had been somewhat easier. There had also been consequences then; not so much in the Nightmare Realm.

They walked hand in hand, slowly, taking their time and easing their muscles back into working normally. Stan supporting his brother only occasionally on the way back, prompting them to take it slower, take in the sights, and just be for a bit. It seemed to do them both good. They laughed and pointed at things, snapping pictures, and purchasing some souvenirs for the kids; a book on Nordic culture for Dipper (Ford had decided to add his own notes before sending it off), and a stuffed Puffin for Mabel (Stan thought the blue bow tied around its neck added to its appeal).

When they reached the boardwalk, it had started to snow. Soft, tiny flakes floating down and catching the light from the streetlights and the setting sun. The sky was sparkling. Ford had let go of his hand and before he had even fully turned to see why, Ford had hurled some snow that had collected on the dock railing at his face. It wasn’t much, the fresh stuff had only just started to fall and anything older having frozen solid and made for dangerous horseplay. It was still enough for Stan to reach out and snag Ford by his hood and yank him into a noogie. Not a hard one, just a hard ruffling of his hair and trapping Ford’s head under his arm. “Ow, hey! Stan, let go!”

Stan ran his fingers through Ford’s hair and over his scalp a few more times before letting go, chuckling though a playful sneer. Ford rubbed his head softly, mouth twisted between a frown and a smirk. Ford lightly pushed at his shoulder before taking his hand again.

Stan missed this. He’d missed his brother, of course, but these simple little things, these happy moments where nothing was wrong, nothing was worrying them, he’d missed these the most. Just sharing time, sharing space. They were bother here, both happy, healthy, and doing wat they always dreamed. Stan felt the need to hug his brother once again, to feel Ford’s body pressed against his, feel the pulse under his fingers and just know that Ford was there. But he resisted, mind churning at the very idea that he would ignore an impulse again.

They stopped in front of a close skeet ball game, teasing each other about playing it for hours and competing for the high score. Stan had gifted a red frog (he thought) with a black bowtie and grey shorts to Ford that had sat at the food of the top bunk for a few years (until it got pushed off by Ford’s ginormous pile of books, then it sat on the floor as a guard for Fort Stan).

Ford just laughed at remembering the hideous thing, reveling that it had given him nightmares and that was why he kicked the damn thing off. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, I would’a won you something else!” Stan gasped though laughter. Ford smiled sadly, “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You were so excited the day you brought it home.”

Stan just punched Ford’s arm, playfully, and leaned against the railing, back to the water and facing his brother. Ford mimicked him, arms crossed over the rail, to watch the waves crash against the frozen beach. The snow had picked up some and fat snowflake clusters tangled in Ford’s hair, making him look mystical…otherworldly.    

He loved his brother’s face. He was acutely cognizant that they, as twins, had similar facial features. But they were fraternal twins, not identical, and Stanford just…wore it better. Stan played it like he was the better-looking twin, but he knew it was just show; Ford could look marvelous without even trying. It really hadn’t helped that Ford could kill the ‘sexy librarian’ look with his sweater vests and open collar button-downs. His brother always assumed that he was stigmatized by his abnormality in high school. Stan was reluctant to say the opposite was true. Ford was a magnet for people, he was just too oblivious when people flirted with him that he’d never noticed. His obsession with Cathy Crenshaw had acted against him, making him blind to all other offers; including mine.

Stan was willing to admit that he had flirted with his brother, at first inadvertently as he was a natural flirt and did it without thinking, but then he’d done it with intention. Ford looked good. Even when he was covered in sweat and sand from the beach and sunburnt in mismatched splotches. Even when sleep deprived and had avoided showering for days. Even when he had drunk way too much coffee and was bleeding from his right eye. Even when he had been filled with rage and fear, and helpless and even when the electricity had made him lose control of his bowels (Stan Bill had taken care of that though).

Ford’s face was bright, reflecting the last of the sun’s rays. Being outdoors had done wonders for his complexion. His face was full of color, his cheeks soft, and his chin only slightly dark with hair beneath the skin. Stan wanted to bite him. Bite that smooth and baby soft beside his eye. He wanted to pinch Fords ears, to tug on the lobes and stretch them out. He wanted needed to leave bite marks all along Ford’s face and body. To grab at Ford’s hips and tear into his abdomen, Stan was certain he could extend his jaw far enough to get it in one bite. He needed to rip off Sixer’s extra finger’s and string them around his neck to wear as a keepsake. He wanted to rip IQ’s head off and just nuzzle at his cute brother’s face.

Stan could feel the wood fracturing under his hand with how tight he had been gripping the railing. His mind baulked and he tried desperately to not choke on a rush of bile. He failed. He leaned far over and away from Ford while he coughed up stomach acid and a bit of dinner. NO!

Ford was at his side in an instant, hand rubbing his back and trying to shush Stan’s pained groans, saying “I told you to eat something light. Grease increases the production of stomach acid and without the proper amount of…” Stan sopped listening. He knew that. Just like he knew that the chicken hadn’t done this to him. No, it was your own fucked up head that made you up-chuck. He should be lucky it was just acid reflux and not his whole dinner. That would be embarrassing; stupid American tourist blows chunks off Reykjavik boardwalk, yeah that would go well.

His throat burned and he felt himself wheezing when he tried to catch his breath. He’d inhaled some. Though the pain was distracting him from the…thoughts he’d had. It seared, but he’d take it over the alternative. He was done with that! No more violent thoughts. No more freakish clinginess. No more biting fantasies. It didn’t matter if it was the brain’s way of dealing with over affection (human brains were fucked up and inefficient at storing and processing data anyway).

Ford rubbed at his back again, frowning, and taking Stan by the hand again. “Let’s head back, it’s late. And we can get these presents wrapped and in the mail tomorrow afternoon.” Ford readjusted the backpack that contained the niblings’ presents. Stan just followed, grumbling about being old to keep his brain occupied.

It wasn’t far from the boardwalk to the fishing dock, maybe twenty minutes’ walk at a brisk pace, thirty-five at their pace. They made it just as the last rays of sunlight melted away below the horizon.

Stan pulled out a bottle of water to ease the pain in his throat as Ford unpacked, placing the book upstairs to add to later. He entered the galley as Stan started convulsing, coughing and shaking to pull in a breath. Ford just smacked Stan on the back several times as Stan leaned over the sink.

“You really need to start thinking about your health. I’ve seen you eat, Stan. No amount of exercise on a boat is going to magically make up for a lifetime of poor eating habits.” Stan just groused. He knew he wasn’t ‘healthy’ by any doctor’s standards, but he was far healthier than he had been in years, both physically and mentally. Well sorta. So what if he indulged in fried foods when they made port. And ate brown meat…and…fine.

Stan felt another rise of bile, but kept it down with a groan.

“Alight, Sixer, but I’m gonna make you a deal. I start eating healthy and stop eating that ‘disgusting brown meat’ if you,” he jabbed at Ford’s chest with a finger, “start being more careful when we go out. That side of yours is still bruised and you still can’t grip anything with your hand.”

Ford looked annoyed and weary. But after a moment, he sighed and nodded. “Fine.” Stan grinned.      

Stan reached out, palm open and fingers splayed to shake Ford’s hand. The universal gesture for making a deal. His hand wreathed in blue flame

His grin dropped from his face, replaced with horror as he pulled his hand away and shook it rapidly, putting the fire seal out. He turned to Ford, trepidation marring his face, his eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, a nervous laugh escaping his throat.

Ford looked shell shocked.

Fuck.

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Chapter 1

[ayanamimon]

DRABBLE // Origin Story (Pt. 2)

[previous | next]

It had been about an hour since Rei had set off towards the Eterna outskirts. Aside from Zee floating by her side, she was completely alone; no cars drove past on the icy roads, there were no other pedestrians with her... of course, it being the middle of the night may have had something to do with that.

On top of that, it was freezing cold. Normally, this wasn’t something Rei minded all that much, but even she had pulled her hood up over her head to deal with the harsh conditions. Zee, meanwhile, had converted to a Fire-type. “We... s-should be getting close...” Rei informed her cyber companion, shivering all the while.

The bluenette knew everything now... she knew about the miscarriage that essentially started Charon’s downward spiral. She knew about the horrific experiments he was conducting. And, most importantly, she knew she herself was the result of those experiments, the creation of a mad scientist.

What does this make me? Am I... not human?

As the buildings became more and more sparse, the two turned onto Conifer Street - a name Rei recognized. Her pace picked up slightly as she scanned the houses along the sidewalk, until finally, their destination became clear. A street lamp illuminated the large, abandoned house where blades of overgrown dead grass peeked out of the snow covering the lawn. All but one of the windows had shattered, and there seemed to be a hole in the rotting roof.

“...we’re here, Zee.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Rei gave the Pokemon their first order since they’d been released. “Please... melt a path to the front door.” Zee, after briefly glitching while processing the command, nodded and released a small beam of heat energy, cutting through the pristine white blanket of snow and making way for their trainer. “T-thank you,” she chattered out before beginning to head for the door.

Once she’d stepped up the two cracked concrete stairs, Rei... stopped. Looking up at the house’s dilapidated facade, a sense of dread overwhelmed her. This was her home once, but it did not look like her home.

She pushed the door open; nobody had bothered to lock it when the house was abandoned. Most of the furniture was gone, and thick layers of dust covered whatever remained. There were holes in the walls, likely eaten through by wild Rattata. As she stepped forward, the wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, giving the impression it would give way at any moment.

This did not feel like her home. This was not her home.

Rei sighed again, making her way towards a dusty sofa that had been left behind and taking a seat on it. It was around this point that she’d noticed Zee hadn’t yet followed her inside... in fact, they were still floating above the sidewalk. “Zee,” she called out through the still-open door, “you can c-come with me.” Two seconds later, Zee was right by her side.

For what seemed like hours, Rei sat on that couch, staring up towards the ceiling she was afraid would collapse on her. She tried taking in everything she’d learned since the conversation with her mother, but... even for her, someone who seemed to have a mini-existential crisis every night, this was too much.

Turning to Zee, she asked, “Zee, do you think that I am... real? Despite where I come from... am I a real person?” Unfortunately for her, the only response she’d get was a series of confused beeps. “...oh. I... suppose that was a question beyond your understanding. I apologize.”

Were Zee any more perceptive, they’d probably have been able to notice what Rei was doing; she clearly didn’t want to be there, and the amount of stalling she was doing proved it. She was only staying because she felt she needed to be there.

Of course... she couldn’t stall forever. “I... am ready to continue on, Zee... follow me, please.” She pulled herself from her seat reluctantly, trudging through the freezing house and looking out for any sort of stairway heading down. After searching through the kitchen with no luck, Rei and Zee came to the back end of the house... where a set of stairs descending into the dark basement awaited them.

The creakiness of the steps was expected, but that didn’t mean it unsettled Rei any less. Whatever natural light seeping into the house from the moon soon disappeared, and before she knew it, she was in total darkness. If Zee listened closely, they’d be able to hear the quickened pace of their trainer’s heartbeat.

“...is... there a light...?” Fortunately, it seemed as if they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark for long; after a little while, a light (albeit a dim one) became apparent, making the last few steps clear for Rei. Once she stepped off onto the basement floor, she took a moment to look around... and the surroundings sent a chill down her spine.

All sorts of computers and other machines sat around the laboratory, every single one of them long broken down and rusting away. Numerous medical devices in the room had met a similar fate. Perhaps most menacingly, right in the center of it all, what appeared to be an operating table sat right beneath the exposed lightbulb illuminating the room.

Numerous emotions ran through Rei’s mind. Fear was perhaps the most obvious, but disgust and anger were there, as well. The bluenette felt the urge to cry, to scream, to do something... yet, like so many other times before, her emotions essentially bottlenecked, leaving her staring blankly ahead at the scene before her.

A series of beeps snapped her out of her stoic state, however, as Zee gestured for their trainer to come look at something they’d found. “Z-Zee... what... what is it?” she questioned, mildly dazed as she walked towards the Pokemon. They beeped again and gestured one of their featureless arms towards a stack of papers lying on a desk. Rei glanced at the first page...

“...Project Lilin. Doctor... Charon Ichijo...” 

She buried her face into her hands. What awaited in those papers... it would surely stay with her forever. Yet, at the same time, hiding from it would ultimately be even worse. The truth was ugly, but... it was the truth. She had to know the truth... especially the truth about herself.

“...Zee. Leave me be.”

The Pokemon had returned to their ball within seconds, and Rei took the stack of papers with shaky hands. She sat in a tattered office chair sitting nearby - one Charon had no doubt spent countless hours in - and with one last deep breath, turned the first page and began reading everything.

She’d finished reading the papers a good while ago, yet Rei remained sitting in that chair, staring up at the ceiling.

She could barely believe what she’d just read.

“...that man... murdered an innocent Pokemon... why would I expect any different of him? Just... horrific...” The part about the Hitmontop DNA used in her struck a chord with Rei the most, it seemed, but this of course did not diminish the other horrors written in those pages. Even worse, as the days went on, she was able to decipher just how much the man’s mental state was weakening. And that wasn’t even getting into the... failed prototypes, as it were.

If there were any sort of silver lining, she at least knew things about herself she should’ve known long ago. She finally knew her birthday... the last entry had been dated March 6, 1997.

Rei pulled herself off the chair and looked towards the stairs; she noticed faint sunlight shining down, meaning she must’ve been reading for hours. “...I... suppose if I have no more business here... I should be-”

The sudden flash of one of her Pokemon’s balls interrupted her, and even before she saw who’d let themselves out, the welcome warmth made it more than clear it was Rotom. “Rotom? Do... you need something?” The plasmatic phantom gave off a series of beeps and buzzes (notably different from Zee’s) before floating off deeper into the lab.

“Where are... Rotom? Rotom, come back.” Rei followed right behind Rotom, and soon found herself in... what appeared to be some sort of bedroom, though clearly not her own. Rotom was looking down towards what appeared to be a journal, beeping forlornly. “Rotom... have you... been here before?”

Rei took a look at the journal, reading aloud the dusty page it had been turned to for so long. “‘It was by pure chance that I obtained information about the Pokemon Rotom... remarkably, Rotom has the ability to enter and merge with special motors... ... ...to ensure I get all the credit, my Rotom research must be kept secret... Dr. Charon Ichijo...’”

She looked back towards Rotom, then back at the journal, then back again. If what she was assuming was correct... then it was no wonder Rotom had sought her out after her gym challenge. “...Rotom...” Before Rei could say anything else, the Plasma Pokemon gestured one of their appendages towards the journal again, seemingly wanting Rei to turn the page... which she did, and after taking a seat on the nearby bed, she continued reading on.

“‘...finally, I came to realize that the Pokemon only wished to be friends. I have decided to name this most wondrous Pokemon Rotom... ... ...Rotom and I became fast friends. We were perpetual companions... ... ...We could not touch, let alone hug or hold hands, but we cared not, for... we were bonded on a much deeper, incorporeal level...’”

After a small anecdote written by Charon, Rei - whose shaky hands could barely grip the journal at this point - read aloud the final words of the entry. “‘Somehow, I felt... I could understand Rotom's thoughts better than before. Also, I... realized that we would remain friends... throughout our lives...’”

The book fell from her hands, and she looked up once again, her eyes meeting Rotom’s. “...you are... you were... the Rotom he knew, are you not?” Rotom beeped and buzzed in confirmation, then... covered their face with their aura appendages, almost appearing ashamed. “And... you left him behind due to his deteriorating mental state. Is that not correct?” The phantom gave the same series of beeps.

“...we... we should be leaving.” Letting a sigh slip through her lips, the bluenette rose to her feet. “I have gathered all of the information I needed to know... and clearly, there are far too many painful memories in this house for both of us. We have spent enough time here.” Rotom buzzed in agreement before voluntarily recalling themselves to their ball. Rei did not question it; she threw up her hood, shoved her hands into her pockets, and headed back the way she’d came.

This was not her home, and she did not want to be there anymore.