#so then on the 16th i’m just going to be found dead because i cannot process him and his stupid hair

[fingertipsmp3]

Being friends with me must be exhausting fr. Imagine waking up and seeing that your dumbest friend sent you a whole ass rant starting with “SOS” and the salient points are there’s a guy with swoopy hair at her work and she doesn’t know how to deal

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[therealvinelle]

do you have any thoughts on bree tanner?

On Bree Tanner herself, not so much. I did read her book, and from my recollection (I lent it to a friend who never gave it back. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t even read it(!)) Bree is pretty much what she’s presented as. 

She’s not stupid, but she’s not particularly intelligent either, she’s nice, but not a saint. She has been a vampire for only a few months, but she has already lost her empathy for humans. She’s an introvert who cares deeply for her friend Fred and crush Diego. She was never inclined to fight anybody, and spent the newborn battle just sort of mingling in quiet terror.

She’s a sweet person I’m sure would have made a pleasant addition to the Cullen coven, but ultimately she’s not remarkable.

When it comes to Diego, her supposed mate... hm. For those who didn’t read the book, Riley told the newborns they had to stay in the shadows or they’d burn in the sun. Bree gets a huge crush on one of the other newborns, and they find out vampires actually sparkle. This changes everything! Diego goes to tell Riley about the sparkling. Diego goes to live on a farm after that. No, really, that’s pretty much what Riley tells everybody. Diego is fine, he’s on a very special assignment, next question. Bree eventually figures out that Diego is dead, and her grief combined with a lot of other factors lead to her concluding life is miserable. She dies thinking “Oh well, guess I had a good run.”

Not unsurprisingly, I not only don’t believe in mates, but I also don’t think Diego was anything close to it for Bree either. They were close friends, Bree found out he was dead, and had no time to process it. More, vampires feel very strongly, and this was the only truly emotional event to befall Bree. It knocked her out completely. So, that she then decides she doesn’t mind dying because there’s no point living in a world without Diego seems to me to be a reaction born of her being young (both for a vampire and a human), emotionally inexperienced, and having been hit by this news less than an hour earlier. Had she lived, she would have been just fine.

So, those are my thoughts on Bree Tanner as a person.

Bree Tanner's impact is a different matter.

I think her death was one of the catalysts for the plot of Breaking Dawn.

The vampires in Seattle all died, Victoria included. There were no one left who knew Bree, and her life would have been a moment lost in time, like tears in the rain (Sorry, couldn’t resist).

But there were the Cullens. More specifically, Carlisle.

Carlisle had spent his formative years in Volterra, and parted with Aro in friendly terms. He remained fond of Aro, and continued to think highly of him. He and Aro would have spoken of the Volturi, of the Volturi mission, of how such a law is enforced, and it is prudent to also assume that Carlisle would have witnessed at least a few trials. He came away from all that thinking of the Volturi as strict, but fair rulers. 

Jasper, by comparison (I’m bringing him in because I think he’s more representative of how your average vampire who hasn’t been Aro’s boytoy for decades would view the Volturi), shivers in fright at the mere thought of the Volturi. To him they were executioners. But, again, fair. You break the law, and the Volturi descend upon you like God of the Old Testament.

Then cut to Eclipse, Victoria’s got a newborn army wreaking havoc in Seattle, attracting a lot of attention in a developed country in a time of globalized news. They’re on CNN daily. They might as well write “Fuck the Volturi” in the sky.

And the Volturi do nothing.

Now why, Carlisle and his family wonders, would they do such a thing?

Edward has all the answers, of course - that Aro is choosing not to intervene because he doesn’t like how large and powerful Carlisle’s coven has gotten, and Victoria’s newborn army will take care of that for him. Edward also goes on about how Aro desperately wants him and Alice by his side, which does prompt an “... you sure about that?” from Carlisle, but ultimately Aro’s inaction on the subject speaks for itself and Carlisle can’t make any excuses for it.

Regardless of Aro’s motives, that the Volturi would not be coming to enforce their own law became very clear. As a result of their inaction, Carlisle was forced to betray several of his own principles. He had to ask Jasper to teach the family how to kill others, he had to accept the aid of teenagers who could very well get themselves killed, he had to put his beloved family at risk, and he had to kill other vampires.

Aro’s inaction put him through hell and could have gotten his family killed. Would have, if it weren’t for the wolves.

Jane then decides to make her entrance right after the battle ended, while the fire is still going. The timing could not be more clear: the Volturi were waiting it out, letting the Cullens be culled.

We then get to Bree, who was an innocent in all the ways that counted, and not at risk of repeat offenses. Jane executes her anyway. Not just that, she makes sure to torture Bree, twice, entirely gratuitously:

“She’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Edward said through his teeth. “You don’t have to do that.” 

 Jane looked up, sudden humor in her usually dead eyes. “Oh, I know,” she said to Edward, grinning at him before she turned back to the young vampire, Bree. (Eclipse, page 333)

Even if the execution can be justified, the torture cannot. Jane abuses her power because she can, and there’s nothing the Cullens can do about it.

Then you have the fact that Bree had overheard a conversation between Jane and Victoria in which Jane gave Victoria explicit permission to take out the Cullens on the Volturi’s behalf. Bree replays this for Edward to hear before she dies, validating every paranoia he ever had about the Volturi. Just because he didn’t tell Bella, doesn’t mean he didn’t tell his family. He certainly would have told Carlisle and Alice.

Over the course of Eclipse, Carlisle sees the Volturi neglect to enforce their own law because culling his coven is a higher priority to them, torture and execute a mostly innocent vampire, and then he finds out that they made a deal with Victoria.

Not only would he be massively disillusioned by the Volturi, but by Aro himself. The man he met in Volterra was a lover of the arts and the academics and spoke of justice among vampires, and then Carlisle gets to experience first hand just what kind of justice this is. Aro was not the person he thought he was, and their old friendship doesn’t count for much either.

Look then to Breaking Dawn, where Carlisle has a vampiric child, but not an immortal one. Like Bree, he is innocent in all the ways that counted. This did not help Bree, and given the events of Eclipse (and remember only six months have passed), it won’t help him either. The Volturi have made it clear that they want to take out his coven, and whether or not the Cullens are actually innocent won’t matter.

The only way he can hope to slow them down, to force some kind accountability upon the Volturi (an accountability that might have preserved Bree’s life: she died because Jane had none), is to have there be witnesses to their trial.

And we get the clusterfuck called Breaking Dawn (or as I like to call it, Aro and Carlisle Break Up).

Relevant meta.

Edit 16th of April: Aro’s side of things

[bimboamyrose]

On the Scarlett Sea Part 2 / 2

A ~Pirate~ Metamy Fanfic - [Link to Part 1 & Synopsis]  - [AO3 Link]

In collaboration with @mmm-asbestos​ & their pirate Metamy AU Happy 2021 everyone  ❤ ❤ ❤

Part 2

There was no natural light to be found in Amy’s room even in the morning. The ship was incredibly quiet as it sailed on calm waters with its skeleton crew. This combined with the lack of any sort of alarm made it very easy to sleep- maybe too easy. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! Amy had no idea what time it was and felt disoriented and started when she awoke in the dark, unfamiliar room. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! The metallic pounding on the door would have sufficed to wake a village.

“Alright, I’m awake… Hang on…” Amy turned on a small desk lamp and stumbled through the dimly lit room to its door. Little more light entered the room. “Where…” she nearly missed the small robot that had awoken her until he tapped her leg. “Oh… which one are you?” she squinted.

“That would be H1.” Metal Sonic stood just down the hall with arms folded neatly behind him.

Amy turned her attention to him groggily. “Why did you wake me…”

“You’ve been in there for 16 hours. I thought you might be dead.”

She blinked at him incredulously. “What time is it?”

“About noon, local. Would you join us on the main deck?”

“Why?”

He stood stoically, looking apathetic. “Aren’t you bored?”

“Are you?”

There was no response from Metal except a mechanical scoff, as if letting out steam. He turned back upstairs without another word. Amy grumbled something under her breath and took her time getting ready with whatever she could find in the room. When she emerged, H1 was still standing guard in front of her door, staring up at her blankly. She stepped around him awkwardly, his gaze following her as she went. Okay, less cute...

The midday sun left Amy squinting on the upper deck. She found Metal Sonic standing nobly right at the bow, watching the seas ahead. Might as well…

Amy came up next to him, mimicking his stately pose. “I had to sleep in this dumb outfit, you know.”

“You really must stop being so irritating when I cannot properly roll my eyes at you.”

“Pft-” Amy tried to hide a snicker. This amused Metal. “So… No clue how far this treasure is, huh? I wonder how long it’ll take.”

“I estimate no more than 12 days; That is how long it takes to navigate to the border of this sea at our velocity.” He glanced down to find a grouchy look on her face. “But… may be quicker.” Unless it’s in a different sea entirely , he kept to himself.

“Great,” she sighed. “So, what do you plan to do for up to 12 days?”

“Hm…” Metal brought his thumb and forefinger to his chin. “... we could spar.”

She whipped her head around to face him. “Again with the swords? What’s with you?”

He shrugged “I learned about the art while researching pirates. I believe I’ve mastered it but I would like to try with a worthy opponent.”

Now it was flattery. He really was impossible to understand. “Well thanks, but I don’t know the first thing about sword fighting- and it sounds like you don’t, either.”

“I assure you, I know plenty ,” he challenged, looking directly at her.

“You can’t learn how to fight by reading about it,” she scoffed.

“Well, perhaps you can’t…”

She raised a brow. “You know, you’re really gonna have to get used to ‘organic’ limitations soon. Unless that’s not really what you want…”

Metal could see that the girl was still doubtful about his intentions. She was unexpectedly clever- he supposed exploiting her kindness would only go so far. Perhaps he should try to limit himself for the time being. “You misunderstand. I am capable of mimicking movements as part of my programming. I don’t usually use weapons and simply wanted the ability to defend myself once I gave up this body.”

“Right…” If it was a lie, it wasn’t a bad one. Maybe he really was bored. “So is there a way you could teach me without all the sharp bits? Something tells me only one of us would get injured, and I’m no mechanic.” A sly smile found its way onto her face.

Now that was an amusing reaction, he thought, if only because she was so quick on her feet. A low snicker radiated from Metal as he beckoned her away. “We shall use the prop swords… for now.”

The pair soon took to the main deck with its wide-open space. Amy did what she could to tie the ridiculous skirt up at her waist and out of the way. Then, Metal Sonic tossed her a cutlass which held a surprising amount of weight when caught. It looked just like a real sword.

“Uh, are you sure these are props?”

“They are real antique swords, but they have been dulled. I assure you they won’t break your skin… Unless I want them to.”

It was hard to tell if he was joking. Ignoring it, Amy jumped out, holding the sword ahead of her with her feet spread. “Well, this doesn’t seem so hard.”

“That is because your stance is appalling.” Metal came up next to her, demonstrating the “proper” way, his pose looking much the same as hers. Her confusion was evident as he described the stance. “Keep your back foot out at a 90-degree angle… sword arm bent at 45 degrees… your feet really should be 91 centimeters apart-”

“Okay, you need to stop throwing random numbers at me,” she pouted.

“Alright…” Metal dropped his sword. With his hands at his hips, he took another look at how she posed. Then he kicked her back foot into the right position.

“Hey! You could be a little more gentle, you know.”

“Very well,” Metal made an exasperated motion as he moved behind her. Amy tried to follow him with her eyes but he grabbed the top of her head and turned it away. “Look forward. Now…” He extended his reach around her, using his hand to lift her elbow slightly. She shuttered a bit at the cold touch. “Does it feel a bit heavier now?”

Amy cleared her throat. “Ah… Yeah, a little.”

“One more thing,” he grabbed her other arm by the bicep, pulling it back toward him forcefully. “Keep this behind you, unless you’d like to lose it.”

A slight gasp escaped her lips at the abrupt movement. She tried to remain unphased. “Okay… Now what?”

He pulled away and stepped to her side. “Try a lunge. Extend your sword.” Amy lifted her elbow, fully extending her sword arm forward. “Good. Now, push off with your back foot to lunge forward.” She did as instructed, jumping forward slightly. “Again- Keep your back foot at the correct angle this time.” Amy’s eyes rolled in her head as she tried the motion again, focusing on keeping her body aligned. “Better… Try it as one swift motion.”

Awkwardly, Amy pushed her sword hand ahead and propelled herself forward all at once, losing her footing slightly. “Ugh! Wait-” Taking a deep breath, she tried the move again. And again. And again. Metal patiently watched her determination as she became slightly better with each thrust. It was so amusing to see the sheer effort it took her. The 16th time was the charm, as she was able to lunge swiftly without losing her footing. “Ha! How was that?”

“... It was fine. Anyone can do it once, though,” he derided.

“Hmph. Let’s see how many more I can do, then.”

To his surprise, Metal didn’t seem to get bored with such basic practice. Her tenacity was enjoyable to experience and she took instruction well, even if she stumbled. Metal moved on to demonstrating how to parry and eventually had her practice the motions together. Around two hours into practice, he came up in front of her, pointing his sword. “Not bad. Why don’t you try to parry an actual lunge?”

“Actually, can we stop for now? I kinda haven’t eaten anything all day.” Amy stood naturally, holding the sword down in front of her with both hands. She went from threatening to sweet in a second.

“Oh- Yes,” he brought his sword down to his side. “Of course. And I should check that we are still on course.” She handed him her cutlass hilt-first but he refused it. “Try carrying it on you. I’m concerned you may forget it’s not as easy to summon as your usual weapon.”

“Pft- You’re concerned about me? That’s new,” she smirked.

“Do not confuse it with amity,” he said flippantly, walking off toward the helm. “You know where the galley is.”

“Whatever, weirdo…” Amy affixed the dulled sword to her waist by the side, undoing the ties that kept her skirt girded around her hips. How anyone got things done with such a cumbersome garment, Amy did not know. The choice of theme still didn’t make much sense to her.

-----

“That should do it,” Tails closed up a hatch on the ship’s engine. He gave the operator a thumbs-up and before anyone knew it, the loud humming and rattling indicated that it was once again fully operational. Some of the crew hung around, cheering, as one of the cameramen leaned in close to the boy.

“Color me impressed.” Rouge sat atop a stack of crates watching the operation. She now wore a much more official-looking fitted navy pantsuit and captain’s hat. “All fixed in under 24 hours! Any chance you’d like to become a permanent member of the crew?”

“Thanks, but I have my own crew,” Tails laughed.

She pouted with a slight sigh. “Suit yourself…” She hopped down from the stack of crates, floating her way up toward the stairs. “I’ll let the crew know we’ll be moving soon. Everyone here, back to your posts.” The cameraman scrambled to shift his focus and follow her up.

A few of the crewmates patted Tails on the back and congratulated him as they got ready to return to their posts. Tails made some small talk until they’d all filed out a few minutes later.

Knuckles stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. “Finally, we can get a move on. Do you think we’ll catch up to Amy and Metal?”

Tails nodded. “It’ll take a couple of days, but yeah- this ship’s faster.”

“Amy’ll have to hang on ‘til then…” Knuckles held up the compass that Rouge had recovered- it was identical in size and shape to his except that it was gold rather than brass. The arrow pointed in the same direction, though the inscription on the back was different. “ The time has come to find me- it is my turn to bleed. -Scarlett .” The boys found it kind of creepy, but it seemed to serve the same function so it was good enough.

“ Attention all crew: the ship is now fully operational. We will be setting sail in 30 minutes. ” Rouge’s voice was heard over the intercom.

“That’s our cue- come on.”

-----

Back on Metal’s ship, Amy sat on the edge of her seat. She’d brought her lunch back up to the deck and got comfortable under the roof of the helm watching H3 and H4 work. The two little robots ran from task to task, tying various knots and doing whatever one does on an antique pirate ship, sometimes stacked on top of one another for height. Amy clapped in amusement any time they finished something, much to Metal Sonic’s annoyance.

Once they were done, the pair scrambled up the stairs to the helm and gave their master their signature salute. “Very good. That is all for now,” he told them. Rather than scurry off, H4 threw his arms in up, catching H3, who balanced on his brother’s hands with his own.

“Oooh!” Amy clapped and giggled at the silly display while Metal groaned. H4 tossed the other in the air and switched to a handstand himself as H3 landed, their soles connecting. Then H3 rolled into a ball and his brother spun him on the soles of his feet. Amy had burst into full-blown laughter. “Wow, you guys are talented!”

“That’s enough,” Metal interjected. He was authoritative but not harsh in his tone. His henchmen complied, both standing back up on their feet. They waved to Amy as they scuttled off to the lower decks.

“Those guys are fun- did you teach them that?” Amy wiped a tear from her eye as the laughter subsided.

“ No. They were programmed to entertain for some reason. It was not my doing.”

“Well, they’re pretty good at it.” Amy leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of iced tea she’d made to go with her meal. She fanned herself in the heat. “Hey, are they gonna do the same?”

Metal was examining his sharp fingers, having found a scratch in the chrome paint job. “The same what?”

“You know, the same wish. To be organic.”

“What- oh, no,” he shook his head. “They are not the same as me. Or should I say, I am not the same as them…”

“How so?”

Metal had to be careful with his words. “Well… their AI is very simple. They are trained in certain tasks and to look for the right reactions in others as they do so. They’re quite simple- no real ‘emotions’ to speak of.”

Amy placed down her glass. “But you have feelings?”

“They are… simulated. But yes, I suppose you could call them that.”

“Huh. And I thought you operated on blind rage alone,” she chuckled.

Turning to her, Metal leaned an elbow on the railing to his side. “More like… spite.”

“Ha- is that what you feel for Sonic?”

“You could say that.”

The surroundings grew quiet in the absence of Metal’s minions. There was little noise but the gentle swaying of the sea and perpetual whirring from his turbine. Amy closed her eyes and listened as the sails waved in the wind, leaning back so the breeze sailed through her hair to cool her down. The air moved across the soft locks that flowed from her quills. She gently swiped them away when they blew over her face, her sleeves billowing lightly. When her eyes opened, she found Metal staring at her rather intently.

He turned his head away, looking back toward the wide-open deck. “Shall we continue our lesson?”

It was strange, the way he looked at her. She could almost swear there was a yearning in his gaze. She began to seriously consider that he could be telling the truth about his intentions. “Sure, just give me a few.”

Amy hardly noticed how much time had passed during the impromptu “training.” She found that it was much more enjoyable than she anticipated; learning a new skill was fun and Metal Sonic was a surprisingly effective teacher. There probably wouldn’t be time to become proficient at it, but learning to wield a sword was probably at least more entertaining than lounging around the ship most of the day. Still, as daylight dwindled, she was exhausted from the constant exercise and was ready to break for the day. Metal Sonic, for his part, didn’t ever seem to slow down, and was now demonstrating how to perform some combos.All part of being a machine , she supposed.

“Hey, it’s fun watching you and all, but I’m really tired.” She stretched her arms up warily. “Can we stop?”

Metal stopped his demonstration and stood upright. “Hm- Yes, it has gotten late. Will you continue tomorrow?”

Why did he look so excited about teaching her the ropes? Amy wondered how he normally spent his time if he found this to be so entertaining. What else was she going to do out at sea? “... Yeah, sure. It’s fun.” Her smile was sincere this time.

“... Indeed. You don’t learn as slowly as I thought you would.”

“Gee, thanks,” she chortled. “I’m gonna freshen up.” Amy tied the practice sword around her waist and mocked a salute at Metal. She saw his shoulders rise momentarily as if to give her a single laugh. The scenario still felt strange, but Amy was remarkably calm- relaxed, even- as she returned to her temporary accommodation. It was dark by the time she felt ready to leave her room again. It was too early for bed and there was nothing to do, so she returned to the main deck with her lantern in hand.

It was empty. No henchmen, no Metal Sonic- just the swaying ocean and sound of her heeled boots against a hardwood deck. She wondered if she’d have experienced such tranquility while traveling with her friends. Tails’ boat was so much smaller and the three of them already felt like they crowded the space. She missed them. They must be so worried…

Unsure of what else to do, Amy laid down on the bare deck to stare into the dotted sky. It was cold and hard and a bit damp, but the stars overhead were so vibrant she swore she could almost reach out and touch them. She passed some time finding any constellations she could identify in the summer sky.

At the sound of a door creaking open, Amy turned her head toward the captain’s quarters. Metal Sonic stood in the doorway, catching her in his gaze. Only yesterday the sight would ignite Amy’s battle instincts; now she just remained still and silent. There was no reason to fight. It was odd.

Metal looked into her eyes for a minute until she turned her face back to stargazing. His heavy, metallic steps echoed across the empty deck as he approached her. He was otherwise quiet. Metal loomed over her for a moment before joining her, laying next to Amy on the wooden floor and wondering what was so fascinating about the night sky. The way it illuminated out at sea, far from the light pollution of Eggman’s airship and other hiding places, was unlike anything he had seen. He could see why she was so interested.

Amy started giggling after a minute. It was so absurd! They’d normally be trying to rip each other to pieces, but here they were stargazing together.

Metal turned to face her. “What is so amusing?”

“Nothing… Just that, this reminds me of before. Back when you couldn’t talk and I couldn’t fight- you’d kidnap me and we’d just sit there without a word.” The memories weren’t the most positive, but the idea was laughable now. She smiled.

“Ah- yes. Well, I can talk and you can certainly put up a fight now.”

“Yeah,” she giggled. “I had to become strong ‘cause… Well, I was looking for my own freedom, I guess. Like you.”

So she was really beginning to believe him after all. Metal thought that should have been an accomplishment, but his body failed to produce a positive response in his program. What should have translated into pride instead felt like... guilt? That was new. “Did it pay off?” he asked after some silence.

“Well, I got kidnapped again but other than that,” she shrugged playfully.

“Yes, that was… unideal.”

“I get it,” she sighed. “I probably wouldn’t have helped you otherwise. No offense.”

“That is understandable.” Metal turned his attention to the glittery sky, mapping the stars. He was never very interested in it, but he recognized all the common constellations- although they didn’t make sense to him. “Tell me, can you identify constellations?”

“Yeah, I know a few.” She pointed up toward a cluster of stars. “Like… Hercules. It’s pretty prominent this time of year, and it’s easy to recognize.”

“I am familiar with the legend, but this set of stars does not resemble a man…”

“Oh! You gotta, you know, connect the dots.”

His optics allowed him to do that automatically, placing lines between each of the stars in the correct order. The constellation resembled a square with a line coming from each corner, but not a mythical hero. “They are… just lines.”

“Hm… I guess that one’s pretty abstract. How about…” she moved her pointer finger across her vision. “Cygnus. It’s a swan.”

“I have seen swans. This does not look like one.”

“You gotta use your imagination a little!” She scooted closer to him, holding out both hands in front of his face. “See how it kinda looks like a cross when you connect the dots?”

“Yes...”

“Okay. So, the shortest side of the cross is the tail, and the opposite part is like a long neck.” Amy traced each of the stars as she addressed them. “So then, where they cross…”

“Hm… Wings?”

“Yeah!” She giggled. “See? Not so hard.”

It was not how Metal would have chosen to depict a swan. The dots and lines that made up Cygnus were only conceptual, after all. “Perhaps I’ll understand better once I accomplish my goal…”

“Maybe,” she sat up. “Don’t worry if you don’t, though- most of them are nonsense; It’s just for fun!”

That seemed even more pointless. He sat up as well. “I do not comprehend it.”

“You will,” Amy assured. “Things don’t always have to make sense, you know?”

He found some understanding in her words, although “sense” it did not necessarily make. It was amusing, though, he admitted to himself. “I suppose I will.”

They sat chatting a while, Amy trying to explain the meaning of various constellations, Metal doing his best to imagine the abstract figures she described. As clouds moved in and the sky became less visible, the topic moved on to Metal’s interest in pirates. He spoke at length about the life and history of Captain Scarlett and her elusive treasure.

“According to accounts, she used the mirror to become the ‘greatest pirate alive’ and gathered most of her riches during this time. Soon after, her wife, Beryl, became ill and was unable to travel- that is why there are so many letters between them. After Beryl’s death, Scarlett disappeared. It is not known what happened to her or her ship- she likely became shipwrecked and drowned.”

“That’s so sad,” Amy commented. Her eyes were slightly misty.

“Well, piracy had its hazards. Still does. I have a book-” Metal turned his head away, looking intent.

Amy tried to see what he was looking at. “What is it?”

“I hear thunder…” A few seconds later, Amy heard it, too, as a light drizzle began to fall upon the deck.

“Oh, I don’t want to get wet again-” she sprang up.

“To my quarters, then.” Amy sprinted to the safety of the double-doors while Metal followed behind slowly. He was listening for further thunder and determining wind speed. Going in after her, he called to his henchmen, who were sitting at his table playing cards. “H3, H4- Lower the sails. I need to steer.” They both clinked their claws against their heads and jumped past him to start the task.

“Is everything okay?” Amy shook a bit of rain from her hair.

“A minor storm. Stay here.”

Although she had seen many badniks in and around water, Amy worried the rain could affect him. “Will you be alright?” They were both a bit surprised at her question. There was an unexpected tenderness in her concern.

“Yes,” he responded softly. “I am built to withstand worse.”

Amy nodded and he closed the door behind him. It was just her and H1 in the room now. He sat at the table still, cards in hand, and turned up to look at her. She smiled awkwardly, remembering this was the one who was hanging around in front of her room all morning. He patted the chair next to him, inviting her to join.

“So… What are we playing?” He stared at her silently. “Oh, right- you don’t talk. Uh… Go Fish?” H1 gave her a quick, violent nod that made his joints squeak obnoxiously. “Okay, okay! I’ll set up.”

They got two rounds in, H1 pointing at the deck whenever Amy needed to “go fish.” He won the first set but she bested him in the second, and they were now playing to break the tie. The storm outside was intensifying, heavy rain pounding on wood and thunder growing louder.

Amy was studying her cards closely, trying to decide which pair to go for next, when H1 sprang up, making a bee-line for the double-doors and running out into the open deck. “Why did he-” She gasped as her chair slid back and several pieces of furniture were pushed to one side. It didn’t last long as the ship rolled the other way, causing her to crash back into the table with an “oof!” That was more than a bit worrisome. She listened as the thunder and rain grew louder, the ship continuing to sway. Then, a huge crack of thunder boomed in her ears, followed by the sound of splitting wood. Amy quickly made her way to the main deck to see what was happening, immediately being pelted by rain and seawater.

The lower yard perpendicular to the foremast was cracked and practically broken in half, being held together only by H4’s coiling grip. She saw H3 pulling ropes, weighing down that side of the lower foresail to reduce stress on the beam. Metal Sonic was barking orders from the quarter deck above. Amy ran up to the helm just as H1 propelled himself in the opposite direction, toward the bow. His one glowing eye blazed when he spotted her.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay inside!”

“Don’t you guys need help?” Amy held onto the railing as the motion caused her to slip and slide on the wet floor.

“H1 is hoisting the jib, there’s nothing more to do but steer. Get inside, now!” Just then a towering wave came up to their port side. He was sure Amy’s featherweight would be blown off-board if she left the helm now. “Argh! Come here-” Metal steered in the opposite direction, trying to ride it out without capsizing. As the boat rolled, Amy stumbled to his left side and he pulled her in, putting her between himself and the wheel. He held her by the waist with one arm while the other remained affixed to the steering device. “Don’t drown!” he barked.

“What-”

The wave swallowed the elevated deck, leaving Amy and Metal completely underwater momentarily. Metal’s heavy body remained unmoved while her feet were swept off. She’d have been washed away- or at least violently slammed into the railings and water-logged- if he hadn’t affixed his iron grip around her. As the water passed over, Amy sputtered, having swallowed a huge gulp. A whining set of beeps came from ahead of them.

H3 was pointing up frantically, indicating that the top corner of the sail had torn off the yard by the rope. The sail flailed wildly around him until he took hold with both hands again, stabilizing the bottom once again. If the sail ripped any further off the mast it would fold over and become worse than useless, sending the ship to one side with its imbalance. He would send one of his henchmen up if they weren’t already securing half the mast.

“Damn that torn sail,” Metal cursed under his breath.

Amy coughed into his chest in front of him. “Tell me how I can” cough “help!”

He took to his mind frantically, calculating out all the different scenarios in which they would survive if the vessel capsized. He wasn’t too worried about his crew; they could take a beating and were waterproof. But the girl… Whether he kept her by him or sent her away, she had little hope of survival if the ship went down. Their only hope was to hold on and reaffix the sail.

Reluctantly, he made the decision. “The sail needs to be mended. Steer.”

“No!” cough “I can fix it-”

Another wave was about to wash over them. “Shut up and take a breath this time!”

Amy was just able to take in some air before they were engulfed by saltwater for a second time. As it cleared, Metal glanced back at the torn sail. He could fly up and do what he could to reaffix it, but steering the ship and knowing when and where to turn was a lot harder than it looked. He was able to calculate the safest angle with which to navigate into the waves and keep the vessel balanced. Someone without any knowledge on the subject, however...

If she could get high enough, Amy wouldn’t have to worry about being washed off the vessel so long as he kept them upright. “Can you climb?” he asked her.

Pushing her wet hair out of her face, Amy answered. “Yeah!”

“Take that rope and climb up the mast- reaffix the sail by the eye. Here, use my sword to cut the rope. Do you understand?”

Amy nodded. There was determination in her eyes as she took his sword and booked it to the ratline.

“Hurry- Before another wave hits.”

She climbed, struggling against the wind as it vibrated the taut ladder. Water weighed down her long skirt as she went. Once at the top, another wave washed over the main deck, causing the vessel to roll once more. She held onto the ropes for dear life, unsure of how to get to the end of the adjoining yard. Amy turned her gaze in every direction frantically- how do people usually get up there? I could shimmy , the thought, but what do I hold onto?

Despite Metal’s ability, the ship was difficult to control without the proper sails. He felt uncharacteristically apprehensive watching Amy climb as he steered between waves, as if ready to lunge for her if she were to fall. Another wave was now threatening to roll the vessel from the starboard side, so he did his best to focus on steering.

Glancing down, Amy got an idea. She wrapped an arm through the tightly woven ropes and used her free hand to pull out the sword, then promptly sliced through the top of her skirt, revealing the black half-slip beneath it. It was easy to tear off from there and use as an impromptu support system. Amy tied the length of maroon fabric to the yard above her, leaving some room between it and the knot. She hoisted herself up and carefully made her way across the beam on her belly, twisting and dragging the fabric with her. Once she reached the tear, she said a prayer and dropped her body down onto the circle of hanging fabric, hoping it would act as a hammock to support her while she worked.

It wasn’t perfect, but it held. Amy couldn’t believe how high she was, supporting herself with only a bit of fabric on some creaky wood. She was able to do as Metal Sonic had instructed, hanging precariously from the beam and taking hold of it when she felt too much turbulence. Once she’d replaced the rope through the eye of the sail, it was just a matter of getting back down.

A melodic set of rings and tones came from below her. Amy smiled when she spotted H1 on the crow’s nest some feet down. He reached up, uncoiling his extendable arms to pick Amy up and lower her to him safely. “Oh thank goodness,” she threw her arms around the little robot and hugged him close. “I thought I was gonna die up there!”

The vessel was noticeably more stable now that the jib was functioning and the mainsail was secured. Amy heard a whistle and noticed Metal Sonic signaling for them to descend. Climbing down the ratline proved much faster for Amy without the deadweight around her waist, and she rushed back to the helm to see what else needed doing. H1 was already working to tie up the broken beam.

“How are we doing?” Adrenaline rushed through her as she asked.

Metal was taken aback by her excitement; She really seemed to have a knack for putting herself in danger. “Better…. Good work.” He noticed the change in her wardrobe then, but said nothing.

“Oh, it was easy,” she lied. “What else do we need?” They rolled again, listing starboard, and she grabbed onto his arm for balance.

He acted quickly in bringing her between him and the wheel again. “Nothing. We- I need to steer us around the storm.”

The proximity was slightly discomforting now. Amy flushed as she turned away from him to look toward the bow. But the constant motion didn’t allow her to leave his side just yet; They swayed backward while climbing another wave then leaned forward as the vessel crashed down over it. Amy couldn’t stifle a yell when the ship descended, Metal pulling her closer to him still. He wouldn’t admit how much alarm his body was producing as he saw the high chance of tipping forward. The ship’s boom was dunked under the waves momentarily until the entire vessel tipped back, balancing itself like a buoy.

Amy was shaking. Her heart was ready to leap out of her chest, sure she’d be unable to maintain her balance had it not been for Metal’s support. Any rosiness in her cheeks quickly vanished to stark white and she remained speechless in her panic. Metal looked down at her in front of him. He realized he was still clutching her to him, but didn’t ease his grip. He told himself it was in case another wave hit.

They continued to sail over the stormy waters, but it appeared after a few minutes that the worst was behind them. Metal loosened his hold around Amy as her heart rate leveled and her breathing went back to normal. The rain began lightening up, no longer showering the deck. It was a light drizzle by the time either of them found anything to say.

Amy inhaled. “That was… A lot.”

“Yes…” he turned his attention to his minions, who were securing the sail back to the mast. It had been repaired to the best of their abilities with as much rope as they could tie around it.

“So… This ship. It’s kinda falling apart.”

“That appears to be the case.”

There was an awkward silence between them. Amy was still sandwiched between Metal Sonic and the ship’s helm. Now that the shock had faded it was uncomfortable again. “I’m gonna… Step aside…”

“Of course-” Metal removed himself from behind her, taking some steps away to free her. “I did not expect you to do so well.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Amy rung out her locks. They were both soaked, but her clothes were heavy with all the water.

“You may change in my quarters- if you need to.”

“Got another fun outfit planned for me?” she mocked.

“Yes. Come,” he stepped down from the quarter deck toward the captain’s quarters.

Amy scoffed. “I was not being serious.”

Metal addressed the henchmen as he passed. “H1, H3, H4- you did well. We will complete repairs tomorrow.” They all saluted him, and as soon as he turned away, moved on to high-fiving each other noisily. The doors were held open to his room and Amy passed through.

Much of the space was in disarray. The chairs were in different corners of the room, half of them toppled over. The screen had collapsed and any books that lined the shelves had flown off and lay open or bent on the floor. Amy was worried what state her room could be in…

“Well, this is…”

“A mess,” Amy interrupted.

“That is a fair assessment.” Metal made his way to the far corner of the room, bringing the screen upright. “At least this is functional…” He pointed a hand to it, inviting Amy to use it.

Amy was weirded out again by his interest in her attire but was even more uncomfortable in the drenched outfit she had on. She made her way to change while Metal Sonic hung around the room, picking books up from the ground. He’d left her another period-accurate garment to dress up in. The sight of the long-sleeved white nightgown annoyed her at first, but she was glad she at least had something comfortable to sleep in.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, Amy made her way to pick up the floor mirror. It was cracked at the top from having toppled forward but was otherwise functional. She looked ethereal in the white gown, even if it was a little costumey.

“I hope it is to your liking,” Metal said as he approached her. “I understand you were uncomfortable resting in the other clothes.”

Amy had forgotten that the first thing she’d done that morning was to complain about the outfit to him. “I’m surprised you cared to remember.”

“I have ample memory storage; I do not forget.”

“But you still cared.” She smiled up at him.

“... I didn’t want to hear your whining.” Metal stepped away, continuing to tidy up his quarters from the whirlwind.

“Sure.” Amy pretended to study the dress in the mirror, actually watching Metal in its reflection. It was all so elaborate- the ship, the costumes, the sword fighting. What was the point of it all? “Hey, Metal… How come you’re so invested in this pirate act? It seems kinda…”

“Illogical?” He did not turn to look at her.

“I was gonna say inconvenient, but…”

“Hm.” He straightened up the last chair. “I suppose I just wanted something to control,” he shrugged. “It seemed on-theme.” It wasn’t a lie.

Amy had no idea what to expect but the answer still shocked her. It was becoming difficult to doubt him when she realized that she could relate. He really did have nothing to gain but his autonomy. “I understand,” she said simply.

Metal made to return to the deck, holding a door ajar. “Perhaps it will pay off for me, as well.”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

Amy gathered up her wet clothes to dry in her room. It was hard to tell how long she’d spent on deck chatting and then weathering the storm, but she was exhausted- and hungry. She was lucky everything in the kitchen was bolted down but felt less so when her suite was in complete disorder. For once, she didn’t care- simply plopping herself on the mess of sheets and pillows that she could gather atop the plush mattress.

-----

“I am… so sore.” Amy lay on her back directly on the cool wood of the quarter-deck, groaning. “Everything hurts. And it’s sooo hot...”

The ship swayed slightly on the calm water, as Metal turned the helm sharply. “I suppose that means you are too weak to train, then.” He watched the compass eagerly. They had been blown off course by the storm the night before and the arrow was constantly changing direction now.

Ignoring his little insult, Amy darted her eyes up at him. “Is that all you think about?”

“What else are we to do?” He made a frustrated, metallic ring as he turned the ship in the other direction. “How does this ridiculous thing work?”

“How should I know…” Amy yawned. “You seem too busy steering to train me, anyway.”

“H1 can take over once he’s finished with the sails. I suggest you get ready.”

Amy clicked her tongue at him, crossing her arms over her torso. She rolled her head to the side, watching the horizon pass them by.  “When you have muscles, you’ll see…” But he was right, there was nothing better to do. It made her think about what her friends might be doing then. Would they catch up to Metal’s ship? She dreaded confronting them at sea, having to convince them of Metal’s plan. Even if they were worried, Amy would rather deal with them after the fact, asking them for forgiveness rather than permission.

Metal stared down at Amy. For all the spying and research he had done on Sonic and his  friends, Metal was still astonished by her bravery and tenacity in the face of danger. Looking back on their early meeting, he always categorized her as a weak, defenseless being. Even as Amy had grown strong over the years, this was the first time Metal experienced her pluckiness on its own, unadulterated by the presence of her teammates. It impressed him more than he cared to admit.

The maneuver she’d pulled climbing up the mast had left Amy with a pretty noticeable wardrobe change, too. The short half-slip she wore under the layers of scarves at her waist allowed for her usual mobility; he was almost excited by the prospect of sparring with her now that she could move more freely. Her boots and stockings were in full view and the oversized frills of her blouse were more striking now. Metal had found the billowy ankle-length skirt fetching in its historical context, but now she looked...

“Couldn’t we do it at night when it’s not so hot?” she interrupted his thoughts.

“I am not looking forward to becoming as sensitive as you,” he quipped, getting his mind off Amy’s appearance. “But fine.”

The compass appeared to stabilize again. When he set off to research pirating, Metal failed to realize the amount of waiting involved on seafaring adventures and began to wish he’d commandeered a faster ship. But, at least the company was good.

It was more than Rouge could say for her guests. “Look, I appreciate your help fixing the ship and helping us navigate around that storm, but I’ve been hired to recover whatever’s on that island!”

She and Knuckles argued over the fate of “her” treasure for hours. “I’m telling you I just want one thing!” he asserted.

“And I’m telling you I can’t just hand you an artifact when our funding is on the line. There are legalities-”

“Since when do you care about what’s legal? This is more important than that!”

Rouge huffed, plopping into her desk chair with folded arms. “Maybe if you just told me why you’re after it I could talk to my patrons about-”

“No! No one can know what’s in there!”

“ Stop interrupting me! ” Rouge’s wings flared out behind her as she slammed her hands down on the desk. The two glared at each other, neither relenting until a knock came at her chamber door.

Tails pushed it ajar with sheepish caution. “Uh… Am I interrupting?”

“... You’re fine,” Rouge sighed in exasperation. “Sit.” She rubbed at her temples, taking a breath. “I just want to know what we’re after so I can help. Can one of you please explain what the fuss is about?”

“Come on,” Tails nudged Knuckles. “We’re on the same side…”

Knuckles groaned under his breath. “Fine.” Rouge leaned in to listen, resting her wary head in her hand as he continued. “We’re after a Knuckles Tribe artifact known as the Stone Mirror…” He explained some of its history and how they knew that it was buried among Scarlett’s treasure.

She waited until he was done, and then slid her chair back, pulling a large scroll from the top drawer of her desk. “I’d like to show you something.” Unrolling it revealed a copy of the same map they’d used to navigate, stitched-together from a set of letters written by Scarlett. “These letters were addressed to Beryl over the course of several months- she and Scarlett were married. It seemed Scarlett wasn’t too eager to reveal the location of her stronghold, even to her wife. Some say she sailed there alone after, well…” Pointing to one of the letters at the bottom, Rouge read some of its contents aloud.

“ I am sorry for how my selfish desire has destroyed our happiness. You slit your palm and gave your very blood for me, and in my deception we were cursed. It was the mirror that took your health, and my guilty action that will take you if we do not act. These riches were meant to be your assurance in case of my demise; Instead, I must seal away all that I have earned in the hopes of saving you. There is no time to waste coming for you- Please find me.  Love, Scarlett. ”

She set down the scroll. “Earlier in it she writes about meeting some mystic that gave her information about a mysterious mirror and its curse. Something about lying toBeryl?”

“So she mentions it…” Knuckles pondered. “Legend states you need a blood sacrifice from someone else who’s ‘willing and knowledgeable about your intentions.’ Basically you lie and the other person gets cursed. Guess she found out a little too late.”

Rouge sat back in her chair, staring down at the collection of letters. “It’s well recorded that Scarlett recounted making some wish to become a great pirate. Historians just attribute it as a tall tale. Shame about Beryl, though,” she sighed. “In any case- this ‘Stone Mirror’ sounds dangerous.”

Knuckles nodded. “I don’t know how he found out, but I’m assuming it’s what Metal Sonic’s after.”

“... Okay. We’ll create a diversion to snatch up the mirror before the cameras can record it. But we’ll have to beat Metal Sonic there.”

The three of them nodded in agreement- Knuckles promising to find a way to destroy the dangerous artifact. And if they ran into their unexpected enemy at sea, there would be no choice but to subdue Metal Sonic before he could get his hands on it.

-----

Three days went by and there was still no sign of this mystical secret island, orany land for that matter. Actual pirates may have had work to do, but Metal Sonic’s three henchmen seemed to do the all work of a full crew in a quarter of the time. It left Amy and Metal with very little to do other than practice their swordsmanship and chat late into the night.

Amy picked up swordplay like it was second nature. It helped that there was little more to do, but she’d never had issues with swinging a weapon around. After a fourth day of practicing she was getting the hang of perrying against Metal Sonic and was serving combos that would give any other beginner a run for their money. Though she complained of sore muscles and exhaustion constantly, Amy fought against it nevertheless, advancing far quicker than either of them anticipated. Metal was forced to admit that he found it admirable- though he didn’t express it out loud.

Metal, for his part, found himself appreciating Amy’s companionship. Her witty nature complimented Metal’s droll quips, and she found it funny that he put so much effort into his tough pirate charade. He didn’t have anything to counter with when they’d shot back petty insults at one another and she’d finally burst into laughter, remarking on how insistent he was on appearing superior. Metal supposed she had a point, getting his own chuckle out of it. Amy continuously commented on how he would feel differently when his body was organic as if to test him. Of course, Metal played along, but each time he did, there was a nagging twitch in his mind.

The guilt Metal felt over manipulating Amy was beginning to weigh. For years, he’d waited for this kind of opportunity to get the upper hand on Sonic, to become something that not even his rival could imagine. Metal wasn’t sure what form he would ultimately take when he finally got hold of the Stone Mirror, but it was so far from the average organic being that Amy imagined for him. “I wonder what color your eyes will be,” she had mused aloud during an evening conversation- what a wholesome thought compared to Metal’s. He said that he hoped they’d be green like hers and got a laugh over her flustered babbling.

Out of all the things that could go wrong with his plan, feeling remorse was not something he prepared for. It’s not as if he’d ever felt guilty for acting in his own interest in the past, but Metal realized that he’d never worked with someone on a team as an equal, either. There was a sense of kinship between them that grew from fighting against the harrowing storm; They both quickly became comfortable in the other’s presence, as if having been friends for years. That was a first for Metal.

But he couldn’t let all his plotting and past failures go to waste. Metal wasn’t about to let one of his former enemies sway his plans. Amy was nice to have around but there would be others; this was the only time he’d get this opportunity.

But I may as well enjoy myself, he thought. After four days at sea spending most of Amy’s waking moments together, Metal had grown to enjoy their time together; It was a shame it wouldn’t last.

On day five, they met in his quarters while Metal dug around for another sharpened sword. He tossed props aside from a closet as he searched.

Amy stood at the shelf on the opposite end of the room, perusing through a book. “What are you looking for?”

“A sharpened sword,” he answered plainly.

“You have a sword… And claws...”

“It’s not for me- Ah, here we are.” Metal turned back to her, a sheathed sword in one hand and a long, red garment draped over the other. “H3 does find the strangest places to store things…”

Putting the book down, she spun to him curiously. “What’s that?”

“I missed seeing you in red,” he said in the most pompous tone he could manage, holding it out to her.

She took it with a smirk. “Another skirt?” Amy unrolled the garment, revealing a long, notched jacket with gold piping that framed it intricately.

“No, something more fitting this time.”

She threw it over herself excitedly. Belting the jacket at the waist, Amy smiled at her reflection. “Oh, it’s pretty. And way more functional,” she giggled, turning her friendly countenance to him. “Thanks.”

“I thought you would feel that way.” Metal unsheathed the sword and handed that to her as well. “Now we can really spar.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Seems kinda dangerous…”

“Hmph- I doubt you’ll land a hit,” Metal replied confidently. “And rest assured I will stop before the blade touches you.” He pointed the weapon at her theatrically.

Amy rolled her eyes. “It’s lunchtime- I’m taking a break.” She snatched the weapon from him, hanging it gingerly around her waist and making her way down to the kitchen. She was surprised to see Metal Sonic tagging along behind her. “You hungry?” she smirked.

“Something like that…”

She snickered a bit, not sure what to make of the comment but finding his presence enjoyable nonetheless. Amy got to work preparing her lunch while he observed her from across a high table, his cutlass drawn up to his eyes so he could look past it at her dramatically. She glanced at him with a scoff. “Making sure it’s sharp enough?”

“I can assure you, it is.”

Amy stuck out her tongue at him, sitting down on a tall stool to eat her lunch. “You are just as cocky as Sonic…”

Even if that was true, her comment irritated Metal. He sauntered around the table to her side, the sharp point of his weapon aimed at her. She didn’t appear phased. “I doubt that Sonic knows much about swordsmanship.”

“He’s apparently pretty skilled at it, actually,” Amy said, taking another bite.

“Seriously?”

With her mouth full, Amy shrugged. Metal lowered his sword, pacing around to her other side and looming over her shoulder. She continued to ignore his taunts as she ate. “I’m gonna grab some water…” Amy stood, continuing to watch him out of the corner of her eye. Turning back, she heard him speak again.

“En garde,” he announced with a lunge. The tip of his sword stopped just shy of her chest.

Glancing down at his weapon, Amy returned with a sweet smile. “Aw, how am I supposed to take you seriously if you won’t follow through?” She looked back up at him with doe eyes.

Metal met her soft gaze, locking his vision on her endearing face. “Well, would you like me to-”

Before he could finish, Amy had drawn her sword and gone for a parry, knocking his blade to the side. Then she lunged, closing the distance between them and bringing her weapon over his head. He swung his sword back up, blocking the hit. “Hmph! You’re just as impatient as Sonic, too,” Amy smirked.

“Argh!” Metal pushed her sword off and away from him, brandishing his in a ready position. “Will you continue to compare me to that imposter when I am organic?”

Amy held the same pose, teasing by twirling her weapon around in circles. “Depends. Are you gonna keep letting your life revolve around him?”

“Hm- How else would you and I get to spend time together?” Metal lunged, backing Amy against some kitchen equipment until she countered his attack with her own swing. She ducked underneath his next attack and backed away.

“You wanna hang out that bad?” she giggled. “Maybe just ask me out to coffee.”

“Oh,” Metal approached her slowly, his sword still drawn high. “What are those called again?”

“What are what called, weirdo?”

“Let me see…” As he continued his approach, Amy backed out through the kitchen door and into the narrow hallway. “Oh, a date ?”

Caught off guard, Amy lowered her weapon momentarily. He did the same as he neared her, their eyes locked. “Th-That’s not really-” His sword was upon her again a second later. She dodged, not having time to counter the sudden attack.Should’ve expected that, she thought, planning her next move.

But there was little time to think as Metal lunged toward her again, swinging from every direction as she struggled to block with her sword. They continued down the hall, clinking and striking their weapons together. Amy was just managing to remain defensive; he wouldn’t give her an opening.

Finally, Amy got in a parry after ducking from one of his swings and rolling behind him. When Metal turned back around, he narrowly avoided a swing that passed just under his chin. He sprung back. Out of striking distance, they both stared at each other, Metal holding his weapon down by his side. He was surprised that he didn’t feel the need to hold back more, feeling somewhat proud of Amy’s progress. But he wouldn’t let her know any of that.

“Ready to give up?” she teased.

He drew up the cutlass again, taking a step closer. “How easy could I possibly make it for you?”

Rather than fall back, Amy took his challenge and moved in his direction. “I don’t know… Looks like you’re having a pretty hard time to me,” she sneered. She was having more fun than she expected.

“I could say the same!” He rushed her then, Amy countering the next few swings.

Suddenly, they were each backed close to a wall as they stood in tandem in the narrow hallway, Metal just in front of a set of doors. As he swung again, she dove under his attack and through the double-doors. When the room came into full view, Amy looked on in awe. It was a grand ballroom, elegantly decorated in white and champagne- presumably for the wedding that was meant to be held there. Metal nearly landed a hit on her while she was distracted, but Amy seemed to be a master at dodging his lunges.

“Don’t get too distracted,” he taunted her.

“Hmph!”

Locked in battle, they continued moving down the length of the ballroom, circling around the winding rows of banquet tables and chairs. Metal was coming at Amy in full force, giving her little opportunity to counter. He could see her growing more tired now, her heart rate increasing exponentially as her breathing became more shallow. Taking advantage of this, Metal increased his speed and continued his swings, varying the direction so she couldn’t duck behind him again. They fought their way to the front of the room where the space was more open. Footsteps clicked as they stepped across the hard dancefloor that spanned from wall to wall at the front of the ballroom. Soon, Metal had completely backed Amy into a wall as she panted.

Amy realized that she was, perhaps, a bit too confident. Even if she were to get to a point where her skills surpassed his, Metal Sonic couldn’t tire in battle as fast as she would. She had to find a different advantage.

When she tried to perform an unexpected lunge, his sword made contact with her own so harshly that she lost her grip. It clanged to the ground next to her. Metal used his forearm to pin Amy to the wall by her chest.

She let out a grunt as she clashed with the wall behind her. Panting, Amy glared up at him in exasperation. “Are you satisfied now?”

“I am… impressed.” Metal cocked his head to one side, observing as her chest heaved under his grip. “But I knew you wouldn’t best me so easily.”

“Really? I thought you had more confidence in your teaching skills. I know I’m a great coach...”

Metal stared on at her curiously. “Is that so? And what do you teach?”

Amy gestured to the floor with her eyes. “I taught Sonic how to tango pretty well-” She was cut off as he pressed his forearm against her more firmly.

“Hmph- if you think that will distract me-”

“Hey,” Amy’s face softened into a smile as she interrupted him. She reached a hand up, taking hold of Metal’s lapel. He glanced down at the gesture in confusion. “You wanna know how else you’re like Sonic?”

“... Do tell.”

“C’mere.” Amy held an almost saccharine expression as she gently tugged his collar toward her.

She hardly had to pull as Metal allowed himself to be drawn into her. It may have been a ruse- he was fairly confident in that- but he was greatly interested in what she had to say as she lifted her chin to speak into his ear. Metal remained vigilant as Amy continued.

“You’re really cute,” she whispered.

Staggering back, Metal fixed her eyes with his. She twinkled back at him. “What do you-”

A sharp blow to the side of his head sent Metal off from atop Amy and to the ground. He lost command of his sword just as her enormous hammer came into his peripheral view. Of course - the thought ran across his mind as Metal landed on his side noisily. Amy sprinted to snatch his sword from off the ground as he readied to come back on his feet- but her boot heel was upon his chest before he got any further than facing her. Metal’s heavy body banged on the hard dancefloor as she pushed him down under her foot. Amy stood over him with his own sword pointed just under Metal’s chin. She was grinning from ear to ear as she watched his broken eye illuminate for a moment.

Metal would have been furious if she’d looked malicious, but her sparkling grin was so… cheery. “It’s cute that you think you can beat me so easily!” Amy laughed with genuine amusement as she removed her boot from his body.

His left eye now flickering again, Metal could only manage to glare for a second until he found himself chuckling as well. “That was most certainly cheating…”

“Didn’t know you had such strict rules.” Beaming, Amy allowed the hammer to disappear from her grasp and offered Metal a hand up. The lights in his left eye sputtered out again as he stood. “Hey, I almost fixed your eye! Maybe another wack will do it,” she smiled.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He hadn’t let go of her hand, instead using it to jerk her toward him. “But perhaps you could show me your little dance now?”

“Ah… I don’t know if you’d really enjoy it.” Amy offered Metal his sword, holding it between them.

He took it from her gently and slid it down by his side. “Won’t you indulge me?”

Her cheeks flushed lightly. Amy had just said it to distract him; she could teach, but she suddenly felt flustered in such close proximity. “Well… Maybe-”

The room shook then. Metal kept Amy from losing her footing as the ship rolled unexpectedly. They gave each other a look of concern.

“Is it another storm?” Amy asked.

Metal shook his head. “No- come to the deck, don’t forget your sword.”

He was floating out the door before Amy could find the words to respond. She followed him, picking up the weapon she’d dropped to sprint down the hall and up the long staircases.

“Surrender Amy Rose and the artifacts at once!” Rouge was flying above her deck speaking into her  megaphone with Knuckles, Tails, and her crew on deck below. Her ship floated across from Metal Sonic’s as cameramen focused on both of the captains.

Metal stood nonchalantly with his arms crossed behind, amplifying his voice to speak. “I can assure you she is under no duress.”

Knuckles had managed to snag a megaphone of his own and was now putting the full force of his voice into it. “Then where is she?!”

Metal squinted at the rumbling noise, his receptors vibrating uncomfortably. “Argh- You do not need to yell into that, I can hear you just fine.”

“Tell us where she is now!” Knuckles was getting ready to threaten him as Amy busted through to the deck. The three henchmen burst through just behind her.

When she spotted her friends, Amy’s face lit up and she ran to the ship’s railing. Metal remained in his stately pose behind her in an attempt to indicate that there was no threat. “Guys!” Amy waved, “I’m okay!”

Leaning close to the rails, Knuckles yelled into his megaphone again. “We can’t hear you-”

“Knuckles, that’s enough! I can hear her just fine so shut up,” Rouge snapped down at him. He crossed his arms irritably, grumbling. “Amy,” she continued, “we’re here to rescue you; are you hurt?”

Waving her hands in front of her, Amy answered as loud as she could. “Rouge, I’m fine! Are you guys okay?”

“Us?” she looked puzzled, “You were the one who was kidnapped...”

“It’s okay, I’m, uh…” she turned to beckon Metal, who looked almost bored at the turn of events. He approached her slowly, keeping an eye on the others. Once he was within reach, Amy clung to his arm in a friendly gesture as his expression became nonplused. “I’m helping Metal! Let’s team up!”

He whipped around to her with reproach. “That is not part of the plan!”

“Plans can change,” she responded in a low voice before addressing Rouge again. “Let us aboard and I’ll explain!”

Completely perplexed, Rouge didn’t know how to respond. Knuckles was shouting at her to repeat what Amy was saying and Tails began to call out to her as well. “Don’t move,” Rouge directed a command at Metal with a glare before floating down to the others. “What do you two want?!”

Tails pushed Knuckles aside in order to get a word in. “We’ve detected an island 30 naughtical miles from here in the direction of the compass- there’s no other land within range. It has to be the place. We can be there in the next couple of hours. We need to get Amy back ASAP.”

“We’re that close?” Rouge glanced back across the way to the other ship, where Amy and Metal appeared to be… arguing? Their tones were too hushed to decipher the speech, but neither was fighting the other. Though they both waved their hands around in apparent annoyance, Amy held him close to her without any resistance. Rouge didn’t know what to make of it. “She said… she’s helping him.”

“Helping Metal Sonic?” Tails looked just as confused now.

Knuckles butted back in, shoving Tails aside. “She said that? What’s his game?”

“How should I know?” Rouge brought her hands to her hips in frustration. “She said she wants to come aboard to explain.”

“That sounds like a trap!”

Rouge nodded in agreement. “But it’s the only way to get her back peacefully. We’ll just have to be ready for him.”

The boys each nodded in reluctant agreement. Rouge took a breath and quietly signaled her crew to be on alert. Approaching the side of her ship, she called out to the others. “You may board. We will extend the bridge.”

Amy and Metal paused their arguing to come to her attention. “Don’t you-” he started before Amy interrupted him.

“No need, we’ll fly over!” She faced him. “Come on, let’s go.” He glared at her with resentment, worried he’d just be ambushed and forced to engage, putting his plan in jeopardy. Amy tightened her grip on his arm and lowered her voice. “I’ll hold on to you so they don’t attack.”

His glare softened. That should work , he thought with some remorse. He wished he could feel more positively about tricking Amy so well she was willing to risk her safety for him. When Metal nodded, she climbed into his arms readily. She really held no doubt in him.

“You three,” he told his henchmen, “... be on alert.” H1 shot forward, standing on the ship’s railing and pointing ahead. “... Yes, I suppose I should bring one of you. Move.” Metal could the others’ clinking salutes as he and H1 lifted off, Metal flying over the sea carefully with Amy. A cameraman on a lower deck followed their path while another stood near Rouge, recording their landing. The little minion stood readily by Metal’s feet as the crew took steps towards them, encircling them steadily. Metal gazed around at them but did not move.

Knuckles came the closest. “It’s time to drop her,” he demanded.

“Very well.” Metal lowered Amy to her feet and she quickly wrapped herself around his arm, taking a step in front of him.

“I’m okay, Knuckles. I’m gonna hang onto Metal for now, okay?”

“Why? What is this?” Knuckles was shouting again, continuing his approach. “Did you do something to her brain?”

Metal scoffed, standing his ground. “What exactly do you think I could do?” A camera came up close to the side of his face while a mic loomed above. He turned his head sharply, his single blazing eye catching the crewmember off guard. “Is there something I can help you with?” The cameraman scrambled back, making himself scarce.

“Metal, just ignore it,” Amy tugged on him while his eye rolled around his screen.

“Alright,” Rouge’s assertive voice cut through the crowd that was quickly forming in front of them. “Everyone back off, you’ll hear my signal if I need you. That goes for you, too, Knucklehead. Move!” As her crew dispersed and the cameras backed to a safe distance, Rouge stood some feet in front of them. “So you made friends with Metal Sonic? I’d find it cute if I wasn’t still bruised from his last attack.”

Amy chuckled awkwardly back at her. “Yeah, well… you look great in your new uniform.”

“Hmph.” Rouge cracked a smile as she saw Amy there, protecting her unlikely friend from attack. It was almost sweet. “Well I’m relieved you don’t look too bad yourself. Cute jacket.”

“Thanks, uh… Metal picked it out,” Amy smiled.

“Really?” Rouge turned her attention to him. “Charming. Now what is it you want?”

When he didn’t respond after a few seconds, Amy cut in. “Metal has a… request. For the Stone Mirror.”

“What?!” Knuckles came booming back, stomping his feet.

Rouge held her arm out in front of him with a brief glare, then continued. “We’ll talk in my quarters. No cameras. Come on,” she turned on her heel and beckoned for only Amy and her “friends” to join her. They all followed behind Rouge awkwardly as the crew murmured around them, cameras following their every move.

Rouge locked the door behind them once they were in the privacy of her office. Then she faced Amy and scolded her. “You cannot go around mentioning magical artifacts in front of the crew. Why do you think you were all after it in the first place?”

Amy shrunk back, still clinging to a silent Metal Sonic. “Sorry… You’re right…”

Rouge sighed with exasperation, sinking into her chair. “Will you all sit?! You’re making me anxious.” As everyone complied, Knuckles most reluctantly, Rouge addressed Metal Sonic with some sarcasm. “I would love to hear what you have in mind for the mirror.”

After some seconds of silence, Amy nudged him. H1 climbed up the chair legs to sit in his lap, staring up at him. Metal shot them each an irritated look before starting. “I would like to use the Stone Mirror to become… organic.” He’d lied to Amy so easily, but was almost embarrassed to show such vulnerability with the rest of his enemies.

“Organic?” Rouge massaged her temple. “I don’t even know what to say to that. And Amy, you believe this?”

“Doesn’t matter if she believes it or not,” Knuckles butted in, “there’s no way Metal Sonic’s getting his hands on the mirror!”

Rouge nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m inclined to agree.”

Amy ignored Knuckles and spoke to her instead. “For the record, I do believe him. And I think it’s a good reason to use the mirror.”

Rouge shushed Knuckles before he could start again. “Amy… There’s something you should see.” She opened the top drawer of her desk and retrieved the same copy of the map she’d shown Tails and Knuckles. “I’m sure you know about Scarlett’s treasure and her letters to her wife, Beryl.” Metal’s piercing glare was already scanning through the text in the letters as Amy nodded. Rouge explained the entirety of the Stone Mirror’s curse, blood sacrifice and all, as Amy listened in shock.

“Amy,” Rouge’s tone softened. “This is a big risk for you…”

“Look, this thing cursed Beryl because of her wife’s dishonesty.” Knuckles got up angrily, pointing a finger at Metal Sonic. “Are you really willing to risk that for him ?”

“ Oh, ” Amy lowered her eyes in thought, her grip on Metal’s arm loosening slightly.

“The only way to lift the curse was for her to give her own blood and leave everything she’d gained behind; Hence why she sent for Beryl to meet back with her on the island. She tragically passed before making it off the ship.” Rouge stood from her desk and circled around to the front, facing Amy and folding her arms. “And I’m sorry to say I don’t trust Metal Sonic as far as I can throw him.”

The new information shouldn’t have changed Metal’s plan. He was willing to do anything for an advantage against his nemesis- or so he thought. But now, spending a few days with one of his enemies was enough to sway him? He supposed he could get The Doctor to sacrifice for him- he would revel in the opportunity to take Sonic down... No, he thought, I can’t let her get in my way. It wasn’t as if she’d be safe from him when he finally transformed into whatever monster he could conjure. And yet…

“If I may,” he spoke finally, placing his claws softly over Amy’s hand as it held his forearm. “Your blood will not be necessary. Someone else can take the burden.” He turned to Rouge. “I am only asking for use of the artifact to fulfill my wish.”

“Fat chance,” Knuckles interjected. “I still don’t believe you’re telling the truth- no way I’m letting you turn into a monster again. No deal.”

“Knuckles…” Rouge strode over to him. “Can I have a word, privately?”

He raised a brow at her but agreed. “... Fine. Tails, keep an eye on Metal Sonic.”

“Sure?” the boy looked at his enemy, sitting calmly with one of his best friends at his side. He hardly looked threatening.

As they stepped out, Amy faced Metal again. “Who’s gonna help you if I don’t?”

“... I believe The Doctor will be willing.”

Tails looked at them skeptically. “Eggman knows you wanna do this?”

“No,” Metal replied, once again carefully curating his words so they did not sound suspicious- or make him feel any worse. “He has few details of my plan. I am not sure how he tracked us a few days ago, but I do not believe he will deny me. I wanted to complete the task independently, but I will do what I must.”

“Well I’ll help you if he won’t,” Amy assured.

“Amy, you’ll die if he’s lying,” Tails shot back.

She scoffed as if it didn’t matter. “We’ll all die if he’s lying.”

“How is that better?! How can you be sure he’s telling the truth?”

Amy paused. She felt his steely fingers on her and focused her ears on his gently whirring engine. H1 looked at her from Metal’s lap expectantly. It wasn’t clear to her just why she’d grown to trust him so quickly, but she knew in her heart he would do the right thing. “Because he wants someone to kick his butt at sword fighting,” she smiled. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it the past few days, you know.”

Metal could no longer look at her. He removed his hand from atop hers and sat silently, trying not to let the guilt overcome him.

Tails’ face contorted. “What are you even talking about?”

The door cracked open then, Rouge stepping back inside. She addressed Metal Sonic directly. “We will allow you use of the Stone Mirror,” she began. “Knuckles will take it immediately after. No one on my crew is to know about it- we’re after the treasure only. We expect to come up on the island in the next hour, so get back to your ship and wait for a tow.”

“That soon?” Metal asked.

“Yes. You are not to step foot on land in order to avoid suspicion. We’ll recover the artifacts.”

“... Very well. Let us return, then.” He removed H1 from his lap and rose, Amy’s fingers slipping away from him.

“Amy’s staying with us,” Knuckles called from the door.

Amy’s cheeks puffed indignantly. “ Amy’s going where she wants. I’m staying with Metal.” She stood and pushed Knuckles out of her way, taking her leave.

Metal thanked Rouge and went past the others without a second glance, his lackey scurrying behind. There was no doubt they were plotting something against him, and Metal was determined to make it onto that island and get his hands on the mirror himself- by force if necessary. He would do anything. Almost anything .

The second Amy and Metal stepped out, a set of cameras once again bombarded them. It assured they went away and off the ship quickly so Metal Sonic couldn’t hear what was being discussed in Rouge’s quarters without them.

Inside, Tails got up from his seat. “Are we really just gonna let Metal Sonic use the mirror?”

“Absolutely not,” Knuckles shot back.

“But Amy doesn’t need to know that yet.” Rouge leaned back on the front of her desk pensively. “We’re getting ahead of him so he can’t threaten us with whatever he wants to do with the mirror. No doubt Metal Sonic will get... forceful.”

“Stubborn girl,” Knuckles grumbled. “It’d be easier to keep her safe if she’d stayed here…”

“Arguing with her would blow our cover; and she can take care of herself. Let’s just be ready for whatever he throws at us.”

Tails’ ears drooped slightly. “I wish Sonic could help us, he’d make quick work of Metal…”

“Who needs him?” Knuckles puffed his chest out confidently. “I’m bored of watching them fight anyway!”

-----

Metal and Amy stood at the bow of his great ship, the breeze blowing through Amy’s hair gently. She leaned forward, looking into the horizon, waiting to spot land. They were moving a little faster now as Rouge’s vessel towed them across the sea. Metal stood next to her watching the compass intently. They continued on the right path. It was minutes away now.

Suddenly the hidden inscription on the back made a lot more sense. He shone a pale violet light over it and read- The Mirror’s bloodlust was nothing to me, for I’d have bled myself dry for you. It didn’t just seem like useless theatrics, but the caring words of someone willing to sacrifice for another. What Metal didn’t understand, however, was how Amy was so ready and willing to do the same for him. Worse than deceptive, it felt undeserved.

Spotting his intense concentration on the compass, Amy spoke up. “Crazy how Beryl gave everything to Scarlett like that, huh?”

Metal did his best to shake his head clear of the guilt. “Yes. I suppose she cared for her.”

“That’s an understatement,” Amy chuckled.

“Is it? Then... what is it you feel that makes you so willing to do the same for me?”

Amy swiveled over to look at him directly. He stared down at the compass, not meeting her gaze. “I guess I think it’ll be good for us both.”

“How can you be so sure? Are you convinced I will immediately betray The Doctor and join your team?”

“I guess not…” Amy frowned at the thought. She knew it was an unrealistic expectation, though she remained hopeful he would change for the better somehow. “But I think we should all be free to make our own choices. Maybe you’ll make some good ones.”

“I am not so sure…”

There was a drawn-out sigh as she leaned her back in contemplation. Amy couldn’t help but see the good in people, and when she looked at Metal now, she saw more than a lifeless machine. There was passion in his voice and enthusiasm in his demeanor whenever they indulged in his interests. There was a small sparkle in his eye when they spoke. She had seen him joyful, and concentrated, and playful, where all she would have previously associated him with was rage. But more than that, Amy felt a connection, like perhaps this was something they were meant to do together. How else could they have become such fast friends? Friends, she smiled at the thought. It filled her with optimism. She rolled her head back on her shoulder to look to him again, their eyes locking this time. He’d been staring- it wasn’t the first time she noticed, but he didn’t dart his eyes away this time.

Softening her eyes, Amy looked at him dreamily in the late afternoon light. “I think you’ll do what’s right for you. That’s enough for me.”

Seeing that honeyed expression and hearing such genuine words, Metal never regretted anything more than he regretted bringing her along. I should have just worked alone, he scolded himself. How could he have miscalculated the outcome so terribly? In his mind, Amy would reluctantly agree to help and he’d otherwise use her as a shield against her friends’ attack;. Nothing prepared him for feeling something toward her. There was a kinship, a bond that quickly formed like puzzle pieces fitting together. They managed to just… click. There was no room in his plan for that. But he was so close…

“I do not believe your friends have such faith in me,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling. I think we’re gonna have to sneak onto that island first if you want a chance at the mirror.”

That was nothing short of surprising to hear. “You would deceive your friends?”

“It’s for a good cause- they’ll forgive me. You’ll see.”

For the first time in days, land came into view on the horizon. It was a lush green island with little more than a tall mountain rising from its center. It was tiny even as they approached. Metal and Amy exchanged looks as they spotted it.

“Looks like this is it,” she remarked. “Just a teeny island with a little mountain…”

“It appears that way.” He scanned as far as he could zoom with his optics, getting a closer look at the landscape that was still some miles away. “That, however, is a volcano.”

“No kidding...” Amy glanced around the side of the vessel. “Is there a boat around here? We need to sneak ahead if we want to reach the treasure before the others.”

“I have a better idea...”

As Rouge and her crew were making preparations to dock, Tails spotted something flying in the distance. A look through his binoculars revealed H3 and H4 flying in tandem at full speed, apparently trying to get ahead of both ships. “Hey, those are Metal’s lackeys over there.”

Rouge ripped the binoculars from his hands. “They’re trying to get ahead of us, then? We’ll see about that. Tails, come with me; Knuckles, maybe you should pay our friend a visit.” Knuckles nodded as the others both kicked themselves off and toward the flying robots.

They caught up to them quickly and tried to block their way, but were soon engaged in battle. H3 and H4 used primarily evasive tactics and steadily drifted them in the opposite direction of the island while Knuckles made his way across Rouge’s ship and over to Metal’s.

Knuckles climbed over the tow rope that connected the ships and landed on deck with a shout. “Metal Sonic! Call back your minions, now!” Not hearing an answer, Knuckles stomped across the hard floor until he found the entrance to the captain’s quarters just below the helm. Not one to wait for invitations, he made quick work of the door with his fists. He punched through the splintered wood, finding Metal Sonic sitting across the room, the back of his captain’s hat visible over the winged armchair that faced away from the door. “I said call them back now!” Metal did not respond. “Did you hear me? And where’s Amy?!” Knuckles marched over to the chair, swiveling it around to face him. “I said-”

Instead of Metal Sonic, Knuckles was met with H1, who quickly ambushed him with his long rope-arms, holding him in place. “Damn you little-” Knuckles continued to struggle against H1, his master nowhere to be found.

“Well done, H1,” a shrill voice chimed from the door.

Knuckles twisted his body around clumsily to look. The rage in his eyes grew when he saw him. “Eggman!” Knuckles yelled just as his voice was swallowed up by H1’s coils around his mouth.

Meanwhile, Metal carried Amy swiftly over the water, floating quietly close to its surface. They stuck near the side of Rouge’s ship until they snuck ahead of it. The pair managed to make it to shore well before Rouge’s crew as she and the others remained distracted with Metal’s henchmen. They booked it across the sandy beach and onto the greener area, searching for another clue as to where exactly they’d find the treasure.

“Okay… what now?” Amy’s eyes darted around the scenery looking for any hint of a hidden treasure.

Metal looked to the compass that continued to point northward. “This way,” he instructed, accelerating into the small forest of palms that surrounded the volcano’s base with Amy on his heels. They ran deep into the tropical thicket as the sky above changed hue, the sun nearing the horizon. It wasn’t long before they reached a black stone wall overgrown with moss.

“Looks like this is the end of the line…” Amy ran her hand along the wall in search of another hint.

As Metal approached, he found the hand that held the compass was repelled, as if an invisible force pushed it away. Intruiged, he held out his other arm, feeling no such push. The device’s hand spun left and right wildly as he waved it in front of the wall. “Interesting…” He placed a claw on the wall, scratching at it. He was able to make a mark on its surface with little effort. “This is some kind of volcanic rock. It repels whatever this is made of…”

“Really? Must be why it points in the other direction?” Unsure of what else to do, Amy pulled the little crystal spyglass from her pocket, looking through its eyepiece. She scanned the wall up and down, the atmospheric light turning deep red as it had just before they’d set sail together. She stopped, finding a small spot that glowed faintly. It was a small divot in the rock. “There’s something here...” Amy pawed at the vines that crept up its surface, scratching off years of moss that had grown over the glowing spot.

She finally revealed the formation under all the greenery. “Oh! It’s shaped like-”

“Like a heart,” Metal interrupted, shining his own violet light upon the small heart-shaped crater. He approached it slowly, eyes fixed on the compass. Its rapidly twisting arrow straightened as he neared the spot. The correctly pointed side of the arrow indicated straight ahead. Reaching out, the compass practically jumped out of his hand from the magnetic pull as he moved to place it in the glowing divot.

To their left, the rocky base of the volcano rumbled. They whipped around to find a wall shifting, vines and moss tearing apart as a stone slab lifted off the ground to reveal a narrow entrance to a hollow cave within.

“Well that seems like a pretty clear path to me,” Amy grinned. But it was short lived as a sudden explosion boomed from the direction of the beach. Worried for her friends, Amy looked at Metal with concern. “What was that?”

Metal was just as shocked. “I don’t know…” He raised his eyeline to scan the sky, seeming to spot something not far away. Why here? He asked himself as he recognized the round figure.

“Why are you here?” he amplified his voice to The Doctor.

“To help you get the Stone Mirror, of course!” he called back giddily. “I’ll be happy to give you what you need! What form are you taking?” Another silhouette came into view above not far from them.

Metal shot a glance back at Amy. “When did you call him?” She stared up at Eggman with confusion.

“I didn’t,” Metal responded. Before he could think of what to tell Amy, he watched as H1 hovered down next to The Doctor, his arms still tangled around an enraged Knuckles. But Metal didn’t call for H1, either- which could only mean it was The Doctor’s doing. “Is this how you found me?” Metal growled, incensed at the realization.

“Wasn’t H1 useful?” Eggman cackled. “I know you wanted to work on your own, but aren’t you glad I was watching now that you need me?”

Metal was within reach of completing his mission on his own terms. The sight of his master infuriated him, his determination to succeed without The Doctor's help returning in full-force. He’d convinced Amy, he’d made it to the island- he was going to complete his objective. Why should he feel guilty about that?

“I don’t need you!” he roared. “I have everything I need!” He accelerated toward H1, grabbing the smaller robot by his shoulders as Knuckles uttered muffled curses while they flailed around in mid-air. “ Double-crossing heap of scrap metal! ” Metal’s voice rang out with a harsh mechanical twinge as he took hold of either of H1’s arms and swiftly ripped them out of their sockets, dropping Knuckles a few feet to the ground. As H1 kicked his feet around helplessly, Metal grabbed him by the head and catapulted him out of sight, far back in the direction of the beach.

His eye radiated a fierce, burning glow as he whipped around to face Amy, who looked horrified at his actions. “We need to go, now!”

“What? But what about-”

“Go!” Metal extended his arm out, shoving Amy through the cave opening.

“Metal!” Eggman shouted, “What’s gotten into you? That’ll take me all evening to fix!”

Ignoring him, Metal flew back toward the opening as Knuckles began to slip away from the heavy uncoiling tubes. “I’ll leave you to deal with him, ” he called back to The Doctor. Once inside the cave, Metal shot his arm out once more, grabbing and ripping the compass from its spot in the wall. The limb retracted back past the opening just as the stone wall fell back into place, narrowly avoiding crushing his hand.

They were swallowed in the pitch darkness of the cave. Metal illuminated his thermal vision in search of a path ahead, but was met with Amy’s panicked eyes first. Unable to see, she groped around for a wall to follow until Metal grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.

She did not look the slightest bit relieved. “Metal! I can’t see anything…”

“I can guide us; let’s go.”

“Wait- what was…” he saw her glance back toward the direction of the cave entrance unhappily. “I mean, wasn’t that kinda harsh? What you did to H1…”

“Perhaps- but he was a traitor as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah, but, you really seemed to hurt him...”

The clock was ticking and there was only so much time before the others would come after them. “He will be fine,” Metal grumbled impatiently, starting forward.

Amy let herself be pulled along, but she wasn’t dropping the question. “It’s just… is that really the kind of person you want to be?” Amy quickly remembered how she’d thought of Metal. She had forgotten how absurd it was that she’d agreed to help him and how he’d coerced her into it to begin with.

“I’ve been betrayed, how would you have liked me to react?”

“Were you? It really sounds like Eggman was trying to help you-”

“I don’t need his help!” He cut Amy off. Her eyes cast down anxiously and Metal registered the doubt and unease in her face. She almost looked sick, stumbling in the dark and frightened by his violent reaction. He knew she was right to feel that way, but his mind was made up- he would do whatever it took to use the Stone Mirror without The Doctor’s help. And Amy had to be willing, so something had to be said to assuage her. “I can’t be indebted to him any longer. I need to do this alone.”

“But you can’t do it alone, Metal, that’s the point!” Amy’s hands fumbled over his arm until she reached his shoulder, facing up at the single glowing eye, the only thing she could see. “I know you wanna be independent, but we all depend on people. Don’t you think he cares about you if he’s willing to give you this much freedom?”

In a way, she was right- but without knowing the truth, Amy would never understand. Metal highly doubted The Doctor would actually help if he’d really wished to become organic, but he could not deny his master’s well-meaning interest. They had the same goal, after all… Metal just knew he could accomplish it without him. Perhaps then he could feel as if he were an equal in his empire and not just some high-ranking lackey. But how much of that could he really tell her?

“It is different… He created me, and he can control me. I cannot escape his shadow.”

“Is having flesh and blood really gonna change that?”

“... I do not know.” Any illumination provided by Metal’s eye turned to darkness. To Amy, it looked like he’d closed his eyes, though he continued to lead her forward without issue. He just wanted her to look away, making the guilt easier to beat down- but she held her ground. Metal continued, turning his face from her. “I believe that changing my form will give me some sovereignty, making me more respectable in his eyes... It is complicated.”

“I know.” Amy looked for the red LEDs to come back on so she could look Metal in the eye, but they remained out. “But I think you can accomplish that as you are.”

Metal stopped as they approached a wall. He could still see Amy looking lamentful in his peripheral vision, her hand in his as the other clung to his shoulder assuringly. This must have been where the treasure was stored, but he wasn’t sure he could still bring himself to deceive her. He made himself visible to her again, shining his red light on her face. He felt her exhale, as if relieved, when he did. “Are you… still willing to help me?”

A small smile spread across her lips. “Of course. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re capable, you know?”

Perhaps secretly, he’d hoped she would refuse. But there was no turning back now. “I believe we are here...”

“What is it?”

“A door… without a handle.” He stared at the wall head, a smooth slab that extended from the floor to the ceiling of the cave. The shape of a door looked to be carved into it, a circular cavity in place of where a doorknob would be. Words were painted in a neat script following the shape of the hole, appearing to have faded over the decades. “There is a bore hole. It reads, ‘For my greatest treasure: my gem, Beryl.’”

“Oh, ’cause Beryl is named after a gemstone, right? Pretty romantic,” Amy teased, wanting to lighten the mood.

“It is… clever.” Metal examined the hole in the door, measuring its diameter and determining its depth. Amy knelt ahead of him, her hand sliding off his shoulder and reaching out to the wall. She ran her fingers blindly along its surface in search of a clue. He watched as she felt around the great stone barrier, apparently determined to do whatever she could to help. With Amy’s other hand still held in his own, Metal led her to the carved edge of the doorframe. “This is the door,” he said, her fingers tracing down the groove in the stone. “And the bore hole.” He pulled her hand to the spot in the door where one would find a doorknob.

Amy placed her palm over it. “It’s kinda warm,” she remarked, feeling as balmy air flowed through from the other side.

“Yes,” he agreed, hesitantly pulling away.

“ My gem, Beryl, ” she repeated. “Hm…” Fumbling around her pocket, Amy pulled out the spyglass and held it up with the bluish crystal at the end. “Does this look like beryl?”

Metal’s hard claws clicked against the crystal as he held it between his thumb and forefinger. “It does… how theatrical.” There was amusement in his voice as he realized. “Shall we?”

Amy nodded, beaming with excitement. She brought the eyepiece end up to the hole in the wall, letting Metal push the crystal into the divot until it clicked. Pulling herself up by his arm, Amy gave him an encouraging nudge. Metal paused. He stared down at her a moment. “Go on,” she insisted with a smile.

Before they could move ahead, however, a sliver of orange light entered through the floor of the stone corridor. Looking back, Metal and Amy found the door to the cave once again rising, Rouge’s silhouette just illuminated in the late sunset as it rose. Knuckles and Tails weren’t far behind her but neither Eggman nor any of the henchmen were within sight. “This is the end of the line!” she commanded, stepping into the cave.

Metal and Amy shared a brief glance, and she gave him a single nod. “Do what you have to, but be careful, okay?”

If there was a time for Metal to reverse his decision, it was now. But though he hesitated, Metal returned her nod and turned to face the cave opening. The cavity in his chest began to glow with a white light that quickly brightened, luminous with energy. “I suggest you remain where you are,” he warned Rouge.

She stepped back slightly with a gasp, unsure if she could block his attack. “Amy, call him off before someone gets hurt!” she demanded.

Amy shook her head desperately. “Just stay back!”

Knuckles came charging in then, his eyes ablaze as he rushed past Rouge and started down the length of the corridor. Tails made a fruitless effort to stop him but was quickly pushed out of the way.

Rouge yelled, following after Knuckles. “Don’t!”

The compression chamber in Metal’s chest was charged, brilliant with energy. He turned his head slightly to Amy. “You stand back as well,” he advised. Not letting Knuckles get too close, Metal levitated a few inches up and aimed his chest engine up toward the cave ceiling. Rouge just managed to tackle Knuckles to the ground as Metal’s laser fired into the stone ceiling, causing a pile of gravel to rain down between them. Metal shot himself backward and away from the falling stone. As his feet hit the ground, he forced Amy to the wall and stood between her and the collapsing ceiling, blocking the stray debris with his body.

She shut her eyes and used her arms to shield her head, but Metal didn’t let so much as a pebble past his frame. As the dust cleared, Amy peeked up. Metal towered above her crouched form, only his glowing eye once again visible in the darkened cave as it stared down at her. Amy hid her face, slightly flushed from the excitement- and the proximity.

Metal pushed himself from the wall, offering her a hand. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked, accepting the boost. “What about you?”

“No sustained damage.”

They stared at each other for a moment, once again hand in hand. Metal listened to her quickened heartbeat and observed the warmth surrounding her face. Amy panted lightly. She looked especially radiant in his thermal vision, her cheeks illuminated bright red. “Thank you,” Metal blurted out.

She looked at what little she could see of him with wide eyes. “What… what for?”

He wasn’t sure. “For… everything.”

“Well,” Amy slipped her hand away from his gently. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re almost there! Oh-” she hopped past him and lifted her voice, hoping it reached the other side of the debris pile. “Are you guys okay?”

There was a short pause before Rouge called back. “You’re lucky no one’s hurt!”

Amy released her tense breath. “Thank goodness! I’m sorry, we’re going to the treasure room now!”

“The what?!”

They could hear Rouge cursing from across the heap momentarily. Then Metal could just catch Tails utter something before their voices quickly faded away.

“I think we should hurry,” Amy said, hurrying back to his side. Metal simply nodded, reaching for the eyepiece in the wall.

The crystal spyglass turned like a knob in a door. Metal pulled it open and was immediately greeted with a burst of hot air that shot past them, the stone door acting as the only barrier to keep them from being scorched. As the air passed, the enormous chamber beyond became illuminated with torches lining the walls. On the farthest wall, a thin stream of magma flowed down the height of the farthest wall, making the space sear with radiant heat.

Standing ahead of her to look past the door, Metal cautioned Amy. “We are here. But for some reason Scarlett decided to store her treasure in a magma chamber.”

“That’s… terrifying. What else is in there?”

Metal stepped from the back of the stone door, standing in the entrance of the mysterious chamber with its seemingly magical torches and streaming lava. And then there was the treasure; Mounds of sparkling gold coins that glittered even in the dreariest of light were speckled with ingots and gilded statues all across the dusty ground. The center of the room was covered inches deep in jewels, silvery blades buried within the treasure to their gem encrusted hilts. Within it, on a platform mounded with riches, sat an ivory casket, its edges shining with golden filigree inlaid with rubies and sapphires. And finally, atop it all sat a simple stone box, its dull surface clashing with the glimmering room. “What we have been looking for,” Metal said with more lament than he intended.

Pushing past the door, Amy stood next to him and took in the magnificent sight for herself. She gasped with awe, her wide eyes shining with a golden halo in the warm light. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed. Amy stepped inside, giggling. “Rouge is gonna freak!”  The balmy air was stifling, but she ignored it and moved ahead, approaching the room’s center.

He followed her in cautiously, kicking random bits of treasure aside. “Be careful, there could be traps…” He watched as she pushed ahead, seeing her trod through the thick blanket of coins that littered the ground without hesitation. She fanned herself and pulled on her blouse collar uncomfortably, but headed straight for the macabre chest that sat in the middle of it all. There was no uncertainty in her stride- Amy was determined to help Metal in any way possible. He didn’t expect that to be so devastating.

Amy made her way up the elevated platform, standing on her toes to reach up to the top of the casket. There was an inscription on the lid of the stone box that sat on it. “ DO NOT OPEN,” it read. Raising a brow, Amy leaned in closer to find additional words on the front. “There’s an inscription on here…” She read it aloud: “The box reads, ‘In this casket lies Beryl, all I loved besides the sea. In this box, my remorse. Leave this cursed object where you found it; The remainder of this wretched treasure is yours. Scarlett.’ Oh…”

Reaching her side, Metal stared at the inscription that just reached his eye level.Remorse, he repeated to himself silently. “I suppose this is what we are here for.”

Amy sighed. “Yeah, I guess we should do this quick,” she reached out to the box.

Metal thought about stopping her, taking her hand and pulling it away from her cursed fate, but he did not get the opportunity. Something suddenly came crashing through the rocky wall of the chamber, chunks of stone booming as they scattered to the ground.

The cavern rumbled. Amy held onto the edge of the casket for support while Metal stabilized himself and turned his vision to the crash site. The bow of a metallic ship had pushed its way through to the cavern, its steely peak unaffected by the collision. As the rubble settled and the early moonlight seeped in through cracks, Eggman strode out onto the deck with a cackle. “What do you think of my new ship?” He extended his arms proudly. “She floats and flies!”

Metal was fuming. There he was, pushing past his immense guilt and moments from fulfilling his goal, only to be interrupted by The Doctor once again. Amy could sense his anger. She quickly found her balance and lifted her hand to his shoulder, trying to give him a reassuring look. He tensed up but did not look in her direction.

When neither of them responded, Eggman continued. “Don’t you like it? I thought we’d get you a better pirate ship for your-”

“Why do you insist on interrupting me?” Metal cut in bitterly.

“Oh come now,” The Doctor continued, “We’re on the same team! You made it this far- don’t let your pride get in the way,” he warned.

As he leaned forward on the bow of the ship, H3 and H4 popped in from the crack in the wall, squeezing their small bodies through the narrow space. Everyone watched silently as they flew crookedly toward Metal. They were scuffed and scratched, one of H4’s arms missing as the socket sparked out weakly. They landed on either side of Metal, clinking their hands to their heads weakly. “Yeesh, what happened to them?” Eggman asked with a grimace.

Clearing her throat, Amy cut in. “Look, I know you wanna help, but we have this under control. So please leave before someone gets hurt!”

“What?” he chortled. “Do you still believe Metal wants to be, what was it- ‘organic’? Ha!”

“Be quiet!” Metal spat back, his voice cutting into a dissonant metallic ring. Amy drew back her hand as she recoiled from the harsh noise.

“ Oh ,” Eggman snickered at the realization that Metal was trying to protect the girl. “Very interesting! But no need to keep up the charade, just grab her along with the mirror so we can get out of here.”

Looking between Eggman and Metal, Amy took several steps away from the robot. “He’s not lying, is he...?”

Metal stared back at her blankly. She would never help him now- his self-reliant plan had no hope of succeeding. If only he hadn’t hesitated…

“Well, hasn’t this been cute?” Eggman cackled cruelly at her fear before addressing his creation once more. Lowering his brow, The Doctor’s demeanor quickly became more serious and authoritative. “Metal, you need me in order to complete your objective. Time for action!”

He was right. Finishing the mission the way Metal had envisioned was out of reach, and Amy would never trust him again. All that was left to do was complete his objective. “It will be easier if you surrender,” he threatened her, narrowing his vision.

“ Of course you were lying.” There was bitterness in Amy’s voice as they glared at one another. She was trapped and outnumbered, but she wasn’t one to go without a fight, and he knew that. She took her gaze around the room frantically, surveying her surroundings. Just as she was deciding her next move, Amy spotted something red in the corner of her eye. She quickly shot her glare back at Metal Sonic, inching away from him.

Knuckles had slipped in through a crack in the stone, quietly scaling the wall near Eggman’s ship. Amy also spotted Rouge and Tails hidden in the ship’s shadow by the cave floor. Rouge brought a finger to her lips as Amy saw her. She knew that Metal would sense her friends if she didn’t keep his attention, so she kept talking. “Why’d you teach me how to fight if you just wanted me to surrender?”

“If you think you will best me in a real fight, you are mistaken. Give up before you get hurt.”

“Hmph! You were gonna kill me anyway- or were you just gonna let the curse do the work?”

The question lacked an answer. For however determined Metal was to get ahead of Sonic, he didn’t want to have to do it at Amy’s expense... Yet there was no calculable scenario in which he would defeat his rival where she wouldn’t intervene. There was no choice but to destroy her, too- whatever he did would only delay the inevitable. “Does it matter?” He took an imposing step toward her.

Amy reached the end of the long casket, turning the corner and putting it between them so Metal faced away from Eggman- and her team. She knew it wouldn’t hold him for long. “So I guess wanting to be friends was a lie, too…” There was genuine lament in her tone, her eyes squinting back sorrowfully. Amy couldn’t believe she’d let herself become attached to Metal- and in such a short amount of time. Whatever connection she’d felt was as good as severed now.

Metal stopped his advance, standing across from her. “...I never said that.”

“You sounded pretty eager to ‘spend time together,’” she quoted him.

“I…”

A loud ZAP was heard behind Metal. He quickly whipped around to find Knuckles falling to the ground before Rouge swooped in to catch him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t put up a barrier? Come now!” The Doctor laughed as he pulled out a small remote and the invisible barrier flashed around the ship. He pressed a button that sent at least a dozen sword-wielding badniks jumping off the deck and after Tails, Knuckles, and Rouge.

In the confusion, Amy jumped up to snatch the entirety of the stone box from atop the casket. Upon pulling down the heavy container, an ivory switch came up from the casket with a distinct CLICK . The cavern immediately began to rumble, Amy attempting to circumvent the treasure-topped platform and run back toward the direction of the ship in all the chaos.

Realizing this, Metal addressed his minions. “You two block her- the box is mine .”

Amy ran, struggling to keep her balance on the shifting cavern floor. Metal quickly propelled himself after her, reaching out with a clawed hand. Thinking fast, Amy tossed the solid stone lid back at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “Augh!” he groaned as he was knocked off route. As his henchmen closed in ahead of her with arms extended, Amy charged directly at them. Just as they reached out to stop her, Amy hit the ground and slipped between them, scraping against the hard floor. H3 and H4 collided with their arms entangled as she hurried to dust herself off and continue forward.

The cave trembled as the single thin stream of magma at the far wall thickened, now forming a pool on the cavern floor as its exit overflowed. A crack near the chamber entrance also burst open, sending boiling lava spewing over the door from which they had entered. Amy pushed forward through the surrounding heat, lugging the heavy weight toward the direction of her friends- and the oncoming battalion of badniks.

But Metal was quickly upon her again, his eyes blazing with the left flickering wildly front the blow to the head. Knowing he wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, Amy instinctively ducked as he approached her. The hefty container slid in front of her and Metal lunged for it, snatching it off the ground to remove the artifact he’d been after- But there was nothing inside except dust.

Peering back at Amy, Metal found its rocky handle in her grasp. She had picked up the Stone Mirror- a simple rounded hand mirror with a handgrip and no discernible features other than its distinctive lack of any actual reflective surface. Amy was turning it back and forth in her hands, wondering if this was really what they’d been looking for. It resembled a hand mirror in shape alone, failing to function as an actual looking glass.

Ahead of them, Amy’s friends were already taking on a troupe of robots. After giving one a swift punch to the head that knocked it clean off its body, Knuckles caught sight of Amy- and the Stone Mirror. “Amy- don’t let him get his hands on it! Destroy it!” he called back, just dodging a swing from another badnik.

Hearing this, Metal tossed the useless box aside and flung himself at Amy once more, drawing his sword. As he brought his weapon down over her, Amy held up the mirror at both ends, blocking his attack with its handle. His sword made contact, but bounced off as he hesitated at the last second. Drawing her own sword, Amy pointed it at him sharply. “I’m not going down so easy!” She lunged at him, managing to push to the side as she changed direction toward the pooling magma at the other end of the chamber.

“H3 and H4, corner her!” Metal commanded. The henchmen had just managed to detangle their limbs. H4 launched himself forward at her while H3 came up on the other side.

The heat thickened as she approached the impossibly hot lava, panting and sweating, struggling to run ahead. Metal Sonic was faster than her and closed in quickly behind. Amy could already see H3 and H4 cornering her into the far wall. Rather than wait to be trapped, Amy swung her arm and pitched the mirror fiercely toward the magma. H4, however, threw out his remaining arm, catching it before it made contact with the boiling pool. “Take it back to The Doctor,” Metal instructed him.

“Crap!” Amy cursed. She spun around and pointed, calling out to her friends. “He’s got the mirror!”

Unfortunately for the little robot, the damage he’d sustained made it impossible to fly straight, and he struggled to avoid obstacles. This made it easy for Tails to fly by, grabbing the Stone Mirror to try and pry it out of H4’s tightly clamped claws. Not having another arm to entangle the boy with, H4 swung the coil around wildly, trying to throw Tails off like a mechanical bull. Seeing this, Metal ordered H3 to help his brother and the minion quickly wobbled off.

Eggman watched in frustration as it all unfolded, most of the robots lying in a heap of scrap at the base of his ship. “This is getting boring,” he yawned, and he flipped another button on his remote that sent out another wave of badniks. “I’ve had enough of this; go after the girl! Make it quick.” He wanted to draw the others away from the ship for a quick getaway once the mirror was secured.

Knuckles groaned in annoyance at the new wave of badniks. “I’ll deal with them- help Tails grab the mirror,” he yelled to Rouge through fierce swings of his fists. She nodded and shot herself toward the battling minions.

Meanwhile, Amy was cornered- Metal Sonic ahead of her while searing magma pooled behind her. “Surrender!” Metal commanded, pointing a steely claw at her while he held his sword down by his side.

“Never!” She had no choice but to get out of the way as lava threatened to melt her boots clean off, so she lunged at Metal Sonic with her sword, putting her full force into the attack. His stance quickly changed and he blocked her attack with his sword.

Metal attempted to counter, but Amy kept after him, swinging at him so furiously that he couldn’t get an attack in. “You lied to me!” she screamed out, her eyes brimming with fury.

“Argh- I did what I had to!” he spat back, holding his weapon against hers.

She gripped her sword fiercely with both hands, pushing against him. Angry tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “I thought we had something!” she wailed. Metal’s guilt bubbled to the surface and he faltered momentarily, giving Amy a chance to push his weapon away and plunge toward him. Metal lost his grip and the sword clattered to the ground away from him.

Amy’s lunge would have impaled him through the chest if it wasn’t for the interference of one of Eggman’s badniks. The robot cut ahead of Metal, blocking her swing. As Knuckles struggled to keep them all back, four more of the rotund bots arrived, surrounding Amy and Metal. She brandished the weapon in front of her frantically, pointing it from badnik to badnik. “Rouge,” she called, “Use the sword!”

Metal’s sword had landed just below where she and Tails struggled against H3 and H4. She kicked H3 aside and shot down, seizing the sharp weapon from the cavern floor. “Tails- move!” she warned. The boy quickly propelled himself away as he saw her aiming the sword at H4’s remaining arm. Rouge flung it at the robot, slicing his hand off at the wrist, sending his clamp-like fingers falling to the ground with the Stone Mirror still in its clutches. “Hold them off!” Rouge caught it mid-flight, clamp and all, and got moving in Amy’s direction with the intention of tossing the artifact in the magma and picking her up on the way back.

“Metal,” Eggman howled from a speaker, “Stop that flying rat and retreat with the mirror at once!”

Giving her a final glare, Metal lifted off the ground. “I wish you’d given up,” he told Amy before thrusting straight up to intercept Rouge.

“Why do you care?!” Amy‘s chest heaved, her weak hand wiping the sweat from her brow as the group of badniks slowly pushed her closer and closer to the bubbling magma behind her.

Rouge wasn’t fast enough to dodge Metal Sonic. All she could do to keep the mirror out of his clutches was to hurl it in the direction of the lava pit just before he made contact with her, sending her plummeting to the cave floor- without the Stone Mirror in hand.

As if slowing time, Metal shot his gaze toward the mirror as it fell. His systems worked at lightning speed to determine its velocity and the likelihood that he could catch it before it was destroyed. Metal was tough, but not indestructible- he wouldn’t survive a plunge into the magma. But it was when he was calculating the possible outcome, already drilling his body through the air and down toward the sizzling pool, that he spotted Amy Rose cornered by badniks against boiling magma, mere feet from being pushed into it.

Suddenly, there was a second option to his trajectory. It was her or the Stone Mirror. Save Amy Rose, or be closer than he’s ever been to fulfilling the very objective to his existence. Why was it a question? So much as considering her over his purpose went against his plan, the very core of his programming; And yet, he had already decided the moment he saw her in mortal danger. Before he could comprehend why, Metal had already shifted his flight path.

Amy was panting and swaying, dizzy from the intoxicating heat of the cave. Her vision was blurry and wet with tears as she fought off the attacks from several opponents at once. If they didn’t end her, the magma would. One of the badniks lunged at her while she parried another and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. Just as Amy thought she would have to say a final prayer, Metal Sonic landed between her and the robot, arms outstretched to form a barrier between them.

The sword-wielding badnik stabbed its weapon forward with no time to stop before the sharp end impaled Metal through the chest. The sword cut into his turbine, causing sparks to fly out as the engine sputtered. He heard the devastating sound of the Stone Mirror falling into the magma next to them, watching it sizzle from the corner of his eye as it sunk in. There went everything he had worked towards- yet this regret was so much less than the remorse he’d felt betraying Amy.

“Metal!” Amy gasped.

“You scrap-heap!” Eggman shrieked at the badnik whose sword was stuck in Metal Sonic’s engine. “When I’m through with you-”

There was no time to finish the statement. Glowing-hot lava began to burst from cracks in all the interior walls as the cavern quaked. Gravel fell from the ceiling as the space began caving in. “Retreat at once!”

All of Eggman’s remaining robots dropped what they were doing to run, leaving Knuckles free. He spotted Rouge crawling across the ground and Tails kicking H3 away from him a final time. Knuckles ran to Rouge, supporting her as she stood. “Where’s Amy?” he asked frantically as they struggled to stay upright on the unsteady ground.

Rouge turned her head back as Tails joined them. “Oh, no…”

Metal gripped the hilt of the sword that stuck out from his chest and quickly drew it out, tossing it to the side. The increased lava flow had left them completely surrounded on a precarious island that would soon be inundated. In her surprise, Amy shook the daze from her head. The tears that had welled in her eyes overflowed as she looked up at him in shock. “You- You came back!”

“I am as surprised as you,” he said, drawing her close to him as the boiling magma rose around them. “Hold on.” Metal lifted them off the ground, faltering as he did. His engine stalled, causing him to hover up and down unexpectedly until they finally passed the pooling lava, crashing onto the cavern floor. They were past the immediate danger, but Metal could no longer fly. As Amy stood, he found that his legs had given out as well- only enough power left to operate his upper body. He ordered his minions over hurriedly. “H3, H4, I need you here.”

The little robots did their best to fly over, dodging falling pieces of the stone ceiling. Metal was taken aback by their appearance. “H4? Where’s the rest of you?” The minion shrugged with what was left of his right arm, only the long coil hanging down from its socket. Realization set in for Metal. He looked back at Amy’s panicked face. “H3 cannot carry me alone. I will have to stay. You go with him-”

“No!” Amy shook her head furiously. “You can’t!”

“My weight exceeds his capacity-” Metal tried to explain.

“Don’t be stupid!” She grabbed hold of one of Metal’s arms, dragging him across the floor at a surprising pace.

Her strength was impressive, but they would never make it out before the chamber caved in at this rate. “We are too slow! Just leave!”

“I won’t!” Amy struggled. “H3, a little help would be nice!”

He and Metal exchanged glances for a moment. Metal quickly realized the stubborn girl wouldn’t be leaving him behind. “Well, help her!” he commanded.

H3 obeyed, swiftly grabbing his master by the other arm and dragging him along. They moved at a running pace now, nearing the half-collapsed wall from which Eggman had crashed his ship.

“Amy, what are you doing?!” Knuckles called out. He’d handed Rouge over to Tails to fly out with and now ran alongside her and Metal.

“Just shut up and run!”

As they all neared the threshold and The Doctor caught sight of Metal Sonic, his ship began to back out from the wall. “Hurry!” he yelled at them as it floated back.

The ceiling was falling down behind them, burying the chamber and all its treasure under mounds of solid stone and liquid earth. The entire cavern was seconds from collapsing. Tails was the first out with Rouge in his grasp while H4 and Knuckles followed closely behind. Finally, Amy and H3 dragged Metal past the cave’s external wall as the entirety of the cavern came down behind them. Stones boomed, pounding to the floor in the direction they’d come from. The crashing stone wall rattled and broke the ground outside, lurching everyone forward and away from the entrance with a gust of wind.

It was a rough landing, but the side of the volcano they’d come out from faced the sandy beach. Knuckles groaned, spitting sand out of his mouth after landing face first. Tails came down, landing softly beside him with Rouge. He set her down on the beach and collapsed onto the soft ground, exhausted. Eggman’s steel ship floated above them as he hung over the rails looking relieved. Metal’s henchmen floated about for a moment before a faint beeping drew them away into the palm tree thicket nearby.

Amy couldn’t bring herself to sit up. She lay in the sand, sweating and heart pounding, staring straight up at the night sky as the adrenaline subsided. Metal’s half-functioning body was strewn beside her face-down. He pushed himself from the sand, flipping over to look straight up. Metal fondled the ground desperately, leaving drag marks in the sand with his sharp claws until Amy’s hand happened upon his, locking their fingers together. He relaxed, relieved to still have her by his side. It was the least he could hope for after giving up his plan to save her, he told himself- but he knew it must have been more than that. They sat in silence for just a few moments.

“... It does look a bit like a swan,” he muttered, staring into the starry sky. Cygnus was in full view over the island.

Amy couldn’t keep from snickering as he spoke, noticing the constellation suspended above them. “Guess you didn’t need to be organic to see it after all- ow! Laughing hurts...”

“Seeing as I am still mechanical, I’m afraid I cannot relate…”

She burst out in laughter, holding her ribs with her free hand. Amy’s shoulders bounced, highlighting the dull soreness in her arms from having dragged Metal’s heavy body across the collapsing cavern. “Don’t start-” she giggled. It always seemed to amuse her when he made those snide remarks.

Some yards away, Rouge sat up, holding the back of her head. “There goes my treasure… Is everyone alright?”

Tails flashed a lazy thumbs-up as Knuckles stretched beside her. “I’ll live,” he remarked gruffly. “What could those two be laughing about…?”

“Who knows?” she grumbled. “A bit cheery for a pair who just cost me my treasure.”

Quick footsteps were heard from the far side of the beach. Rouge’s crew and a set of cameramen were hastily running to meet with her. She sighed. “Back to work, I suppose.” As they stumbled near, Knuckles came to his feet and gave her a hand up. Tails dusted himself off groggily and joined them. The trio were surrounded by sailors and cameras soon enough as Rouge immediately began giving orders, playing up the authoritative remarks for the cameras.

Down the beach, Metal’s minion’s floated near him, H3 holding H1’s sparking body in his arms. Metal pushed himself to sit up, looking at the dismembered robot with remorse. “Perhaps I was a bit harsh…” He took hold of H1 as the metallic husk beeped intermittently and automatically, not appearing to be active.

Pulling herself into a sitting position, Amy groaned. “Is he gonna be okay?” she motioned to H1.

“Yes… I can repair them all. We will be fine.”

Eggman hovered down in his floating Eggmobile, coming to a landing and jumping out to address his creations. “Metal! What happened out there? Is your turbine functional?”

Metal glared at The Doctor for a moment. The lights in his left eye flickered weakly every time he moved his head. He believed he should have been furious, but he had neither the energy nor any strong feelings against his master in that moment. “No,” he responded simply.

“You sure did a number on him,” Eggman said, referring to H1 as Metal held him. “Well, we’ll get ‘em next time… Here, charge up so we can go.” A battery pack was quickly hooked up to Metal’s back, steadily providing his body with the power to operate his legs. Amy watched fondly as Eggman doted over him, a sly smile appearing on her face. The Doctor noticed her peering. “What are you looking at, you pest? You should consider yourself lucky to be alive-”

“That is enough,” Metal said plainly. “Give me a minute…”

“... Fine,” Eggman relented. “I‘ll make preparations to ‘set sail,’” he snickered, getting back into his hovercraft and floating away to the flying ship.

H3 and H4 sat in the sand by Amy and Metal, patiently waiting for him to regain his energy. As The Doctor’s attention turned away from him, Metal pulled the charging cable out from his back and connected it to H1’s body. The narrow strip of light that formed his visor powered on as Metal held him in front of his chest.

“You are quite the little spy…” Metal stared at H1 as he activated, the small robot bobbing his head around as if nervous. “... Very good work. I shall keep you around.” H1 stopped his frantic movement, tensing up for a moment before relaxing. Amy giggled as Metal set him down in the sand between them, reaching out and straightening the bandana around his neck. Metal turned to face her so their eyes met. “Thank you for bringing me with you. I am not sure my body could have been recovered from all the rubble.”

She was beaming warmly. “Well, you didn’t let me die in the end, so…” she gestured vaguely. “Call it even for now.” Amy winked.

“Hm. For what it’s worth, I was not going to permit you to sacrifice yourself. Though I cannot comprehend why…”

“Oh thanks,” Amy snickered through her sarcastic response. “Well, even though you lied… I think I believe you,” she shrugged.

Metal never felt like he needed to justify or excuse anything that he’d done in the past; He only ever did what he had to in the name of completing his objective. And though he resented losing this opportunity, the guilt he felt from lying was somehow much stronger. “Yes, well- I have never apologized for anything in my entire existence, but… I do regret that. I am sorry.”

“Really?” She ran a finger through the sand, leaving faint lines. “Ah, at least I got a sword lesson out of it ...I’ll think about forgiving you,” she responded with a coy smile. Metal Sonic was a bit of a mystery, but she could sense that he was apologetic in saving her and as he reactivated H1. She felt it was genuine, though she promised herself to keep him on his toes if they ever say one another again. “Anyway, don’t you need to charge, too?” she asked.

“There is enough for us both. In any case, I can spend a bit more time with you this way.”

She grinned playfully. “Yeah, too bad we’re in no shape for a dance lesson.”

“I suppose not... Perhaps next week, then.” He forced it out indifferently, but there was hope in his response.

It was unclear whether he was just teasing her. Amy flushed suddenly, turning her gaze away. Nothing could have been stranger than feeling this fondly toward Metal after the emotional roller coaster of the last several days, but the idea of being that close again didn’t sound so bad to her now. Only time would tell how the unusual new friendship would play out from opposite sides, but Amy was more than willing to find out. “Yeah, I guess that’ll work,” she responded finally, smiling back up at him. She couldn’t help but think that he’d be grinning back if he could.

-----

“ The treasure has been… compromised, ” Rouge explained. Footage of her on a beach played on a small hand-held tablet. She was wearing a scuffed-up navy suit but stood with confidence and authority. “ There were some… complications. It may be too dangerous to excavate. ”

B-roll of the surrounding area played as a news anchor reported the story. A dark, tropical beach with a mountain at its center. A pile of rubble surrounded by crew members as Tails pointed at and discussed various spots. Rouge storming off the beach as Knuckles followed after her angrily.

Sonic watched the morning news in awe. He’d been lounging groggily near the Master Emerald when he sat up at the appearance of his friends.

“ … and perhaps most strangely of all, the missing historical ship, the Royal Fortune, was found drifting just offshore. She appears to have sustained some damage over the week or so since she went missing. Her disappearance seems to be related to the notorious Dr. Eggman. ” As an announcer spoke, the recording showed a short clip of Metal Sonic and Amy chatting at the bow of the now-anchored ship, her leaning over a railing nonchalantly and giggling while he stood in a stately manner, his gaze fixed on her. Amy then ducked out of the shot when she spotted the camera. Metal Sonic turned to face it directly, glaring with his left eye flickering eerily. The shot quickly panned away.

“Is that…?” Sonic’s jaw dropped as he watched the clip, unable to fathom just what kind of adventure they’d ended up on. Seeing Amy lounging around with Metal Sonic on a stolen vessel was by the far the strangest, but everyone appeared to be safe and would likely be returning soon, so there was no need to worry. “Heh, can’t wait to hear about this.” Sonic went back to his leisurely position as the story ended, grinning over the unexpected footage of his friends and eagerly waiting to hear about all the fun his team was having without him. Still, he doubted it would be enough to get him tagging along on the next seafaring adventure.

-----

wow so that ended up being like twice as long as intended~ i hope yall enjoyed it. meant to have it up earlier but. that’s life.

this is of course part 2 to what i was working on for @metamy-ship-week​

a very very very special thank you to @mmm-asbestos​ for inspiring this fic and brainstorming the story with me. i am incredibly thankful to have worked on something with someone who inspires me so much ❤ i had a great time

happy new year friends~ i hope 2021 treats you all with kindness.

[briarlovesclara]

Wilbur: the ultimate unreliable narrator

A stream of consciousness analysis of Wilbur’s character on the Dream SMP and the stuff I’m afraid people are going to try to gloss over.

Spoilers from Wilbur’s May 5th lore stream, though I hopped in partway through so I haven’t seen the very beginning.

This is stuff that I genuinely believe people need to pay attention to if they want to at all understand Revivebur-- I was very disconcerted about him until today’s stream and I connected some dots. 

/rp!

We shouldn’t be surprised. 

Wilbur Soot, as in content creator and real person, confirmed a long time ago that the dream smp was full of unreliable narrators, including and starting with his own character. We knew that. His character crumbled before our eyes, but we focused on it wrong-- and we were supposed to. We did what we were molded to do. 

Now, I came in late with a lot of things on the Dream SMP. I resisted joining the fandom despite my TikTok FYP until I got trapped by an audio pertaining to Tommy and Vilbur (it was a “let’s be the bad guys” audio). I arrived post November 16th, maybe two weeks later, in that lull period where Ranboo, Philza, and many others were getting onto their feet, Wilbur was dead, and Ghostbur was a full cast member.

And I fell in LOVE with Ghostbur, immediately. 

He got me into the DSMP. His character was so rich, and complex, and simple at the same time to the point of fascination. I was able to watch him and understand him, then click off clips of him and figure out who the hell Wilbur was. I filled in the gaps. I watched the story of L’manberg unfold in front of me, its rise and its fall. 

And I loved it! I really, really loved it. Wilbur’s character arc sang to me, as a deeply angsty spiral full of power and the need for control to the point of lacking any of it. 

But when, a couple days ago, Wilbur got revived, it felt wrong. 

I didn’t know why I was so hesitant. I love Ghostbur, and preferred him over Alivebur, sure, but I had liked Wilbur. What had changed? Why did I feel so deeply and viscerally uncomfortable?

The answer, of course, was Quackity. Or more specifically, his lore.

Up until the flashback to the L’manberg era, Wilbur fans had seen the ‘unreliable narrator’ tag as one similar to the way everyone else played it-- the character doesn’t know that they are being unreliable, because everyone experiences things subjectively and we’re shaped by that. That Wilbur’s narration was solely influenced by his deteriorating state of mind.

But then Quackity was shown talking to President Wilbur, what many thought of as the Golden Age, our Wilbur… and it was all wrong. 

Not only did this Wilbur not talk like the Wilbur we knew then, he didn’t talk like any Wilbur we had ever seen. Revolutionary Wilbur stood for peaceful discooperation, for bloodlessly removing himself from the SMP and only striking when struck (similar to Ranboo in that sense). 

Vilbur was insane, we had all agreed, and he was violent to a point, but never this bluntly. He was wrapped up in himself so much that he was self-destructive more than outwardly hurting anyone else. 

But here was Wilbur, canonically, advising Quackity to take the fight to the power. To hurt and to maim, and that the strategies that got Wilbur into power didn’t work. 

And it made me uncomfortable, because that wasn’t Wilbur.

But it turns out we were looking at Wilbur all wrong. 

When cc!Wilbur told us that there were unreliable narrators, he meant that even the ‘flawed story’ that we were getting was wrong. 

The Wilbur we saw wanted a peaceful place to live. He wanted to raise his son and live with his found family by a lake. 

Today, we were told that that dream was simply a farce-- but he didn’t want power, simply to take it away. 

L’manberg was a tool, a vessel. It was a way of “sticking it to the man” (Dream), a way of rebellion against someone who was unjust. He couldn’t care less about its actual contents, only what it meant. When we wept at the walls falling under Schlatt, under the hand of his own son, he didn’t care. And if he DID care, it was about the fact that Fundy had joined ‘the man’ (Schlatt). 

But I think that Wilbur realized that he was the new ‘man’ after all. He was kicked out of L’manberg, sure, but it was by his rules and because of the power he had created. He had, to be a cliche, become everything he sought to destroy, minus the inherent oppression that he felt Dream held. 

When I thought of Revivebur, I was so uncomfortable because I was looking at a character that, quite frankly, didn’t add up. I was looking at Alivebur and the person who talked to Quackity and I couldn’t understand how they could be the same person, but that’s the point. They aren’t. The Wilbur we saw, the one we watched fight and scream and die for a chunk of land, never existed. 

We were played like we were supposed to be. 

Wilbur was never the big, valiant hero he acted like. It was always Tommy. He just wanted something and was getting really into, essentially, the bit. Like a person playing DnD who gets legitimately attached to the storyline. But at the end of the day, he didn’t need it.

Can you imagine playing Dungeons and Dragons, but the NPCs were sentient? Can you imagine putting your heart and soul into a character, so much like you, and falling in love with the people that surround you? But in your heart you know that it is just play, and that they cannot know. And then you leave. Wilbur, essentially, left his fully sentient DnD game running without him. 

We were fed a cohesive, in-depth character. Wilbur, our Wilbur. The kid who grew up with mixed feelings and was the storybook hero turned villain against those he once thought with. But all this time, we were just seeing what he wanted us to see. And maybe he started to believe it, because just because it wasn’t true doesn’t mean that he was trying to hurt everyone. He cared, truly, about the people he was with, but not the same way we thought. Every concrete emotion we experienced was a detailed lie that we filled in for ourselves. 

After all, Wilbur plays solitaire. 

A/N: this didn’t fit into the rant above, but Wilbur’s character isn’t stagnant, he just always needs power and it always creates the same dynamic! It can feel weird seeing the server kinda pull back full circle energy wise to L’manberg with developed characters, but his power rise and fall is just a requirement of his existence. It’s his rhythm.

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs: Stump Day Review or The Why Are You Booing Tom He’s Right Holiday Special

Before we start a special credit to @jess-the-vampire​ who I discussed the episode with during the writing process and brought up a LOT of good points that ended up going into this review. She clearly hates it as much as I do and had even more good reasons for it.  Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Everybody! And today we got a big, fat, grotesque lump of coal to smash to pieces. And after a long, draining, if worth the effort scrooge review, and with this being something I needed to cross off my to do list this holiday season, I put this one here as I could use the cathariss of giving this steaming bowl of elephant piss a good thrashing. As you can tell unlike my usual reviews, I do not like this episode. This isn’t the FIRST i’ve not liked i’ve covered, but it is the first rather infamous one to me i’ve covered and not just a dead possum of an episode I ran into while reguarly covering an otherwise good show like “Quaraller’s Pass” or “Strife of the Party”. This one’s had it coming, making my top 8 worst christmas specials list last year, and while not the series worst outing, that’s a toss up between the finale and marco jr, it’s easily one of them. So while usually I like diving deeply into something good and picking apart while it’s good, if not ignoring any bad aspects, here i’m just going to take a hammer to this thing to explain why it dosen’t work and why it sucks dirty ass in thunderstorms. I might be overstating it a bit but probably not.  Nothing really new has happened since the last episode so the only new thing to cover is why i’m doing the episode here instead of after Monster Bash. And the simple reason is that like the Ducktales Halloween and Christmas specials, this episode clearly does not take place in the same time frame of the episode before or after it, with the next episode, The Bog Beast of Bogabah, taking place the day after Monster Bash. It’s most likely they simply held this episode over till Christmas and it dosen’t really fit in AFTER the huge game changer that is monster bash, especailly since the next three episodes after this all take place in rapid sucession, two on the same day one the day after them. So yeah i’m doing this one first and putting it ahead of monster bash on my episode guide for clarity’s sake. 

Good, so with all that settled, let’s unwrap this complete works of pauly shore shall we? We open on the titular Stump Day, essentially mewni’s christmas complete with Cocoa, carols and a gay couple and their equally adorable child. And Star, unsuprisingly is giddy for it as the actual chlidren, and wearing an adorable santaesque dress complete with horns on her santa hat. Seriously you cannot tell me tom didn’t get that for her. Fucking precious. Marco is more just confused and has his hood up and one of Star’s cousins asks uncle river to tell him the origin of stump day. River’s response.. is easily the best joke of the episode. 

“(in a jolly tone) ha ha, you don’t tell me what to do”

He does so anyway though: Basically when settlers arrived on Mewni they found themselves cold and griping with each other, and soon found a blizzard had struck.. but by huddling together under a magic stump, they all learned to get along or something like that and now once a year everyone gathers in warmth and camraderie.. or else. Before Marco can understandably question what “or else” means in this context, Star butts in when one of her cousins chastises the younger one who asked river the question for beliviing and says he’s real. It’s a nice touch as it fits star perfectly to still belivie in mewni’s horrifying version of santa. I forgot just how adorable and likeable the character was before the final season shot that to hell. How her energy could be infectious and how Eden Sher really brought her all to the performance, which is still the performance of her career and hopefully like Rider Strong she’ll do more voice acting eventually.  So that night as Star tucks in after wonderful  night of sleep, and to avoid her dad’s usual drunken chorus of Tom Jones “Sex Bomb”, and gets woken up by Marco who leads her to the dining hall because a windows broken to fix it with magic. Star entirely buys this flimsy story.. but as Jess pointed out, and as I missed hence the credit up top... she dosen’t bring her wand. She.. dosen’t bring her wand.. to go fix something with magic. Now i’ll grant next season shows she CAN fully do magic without it, and while not as powerful like her mom still has plenty of punch behind it.. especially when she does the rainbow fist thing. But it’s still.. weird she dosen’t think to grab it and feels out of character. While Star’s learned by this point not to rely on it, and as we’ll see gives it up entirely, one of the few bits of her character development that actually sticks, it still seems resonable she’d take it with her wherever she goes.. and usually SHE DOES. And her jammies, which are also adorable, seem to have pockets so the animators had no reason to not just stuff it in one. It would’ve made their job harder yes.. but then don’t have marco use an excuse that directly requires it then and draws attention to the fact the wand is missing, and the fact you blatantly just hoped we’d forget about it as it’d ruin the climax. 

It’s far from the worst thing in this episode..trust me we’re almost there. But this does bring me to a point.. so far the episode is GOOD. The comedy’s good, the setup for what’s about to happen is good, the holdiay setting is warm and inviting but weird enough to perfectly fit mewni, and River, much like his VA and homosexual talking boat portrayer Alan Tudyuk, is a national treasure as always. Whelp it’s all down hill from here bitches! Giddyup. 

So Marco announces a SUPRISE PARTY! And everyone’s there: Tom, Kelly, Ponyhead, Starfan14... oh yeah this is the first ep i’ve coverd with Starfan14 isn’t it? Starfan14 is star’s insane fangirl, voiced by series creator Derfron Nercy herself, who star happily tolerates despite clearly wanting to wear her skin. We’ve all been there. Also Jackie is transparently missing, though at least it’s SOMEWHAT reasonable as she and marco broke up a few .. months ago? I mean it is winter on mewni for this episode but the end of season 4 and the series is set at the start of summer, yet months still pass..... 

Confusing timeline aside, Jackie has every reason not to attend a party thrown by her ex for the girl who confesed she had feelings for said ex and it’s probably the only good decision Marco makes this entire episode that he wisely decided to give Jackie some space. And it says something a decision made entirely off screen that was probably because the creators genuinely forgot Jackie once she was out of the way so they could shift the love triangle stuff to Tom, Star and Marco instead of you know.. not doing that because most love triangles are annoying at best and utterly insufferable at worst. Case in point this episode but I can give out more about this aspect of things in a bit with more context. 

And to his credit, and as Jess backed me up on, Marco’s gesture is genuinely throughtful.. at least to start with. He got her a choclate fountain, brought all of her friends, and geninely just thought Star never celebrated her birthday on her birthday because it was you know the same day as christmas. As someone whose birthday is a week before christmas, December 16th if you were curious, I understand the pain of having your birthday in the same month as christmas. Of having all your presents clustered at once and of having to manuver around a very stressful season, though it does sometimes have perks like getting to celebrate your birthday and christmas, it also means your birthday is secondary and always will be to most people due to proximity. And Star has hers ON mewman christmas, so it’s even worse. So from Marco’s perspective, TO START, his best friend constantly had to share her birthday with her faviorite holiday and just wanted to do something nice. SO FAR, he’s done nothing wrong and just means well. That’s... about to end.  Star.. instead of being greatful.. starts muttering no before going on an manic rampage and destroying everything including hte band’s insturments. And apparnetly star’s gotten some flack for her behavior.. but I understand it. To her the stump is VERY real, and will be very angry if someone else celebrates so to her all she’s doing is saving her best friend from the holiday equilvent of the trees from evil dead, and when Marco asks about it she GENUINELY is sorry, getting he meant well, that he was being sweet, and that he did a lot of nice stuff for her.. she just can’t celebrate not because she loves the holiday but because again, from her persepctive, the stump will kill them all if they don’t support it. She is genuinly affraid for her friends lives and given she could go grab her wand and fight it, clearly thinks she, with all her CONSIDERABLE powers, cannot win this, and neither can tom whose powers are almost entirely fire based. Star is just trying to protect her friends from being horribly murdered. And she turns out to be entirely right about it so no, star was not a jerk here. A bit over the top, but she was not insensitive, she was not mean, she just didn’t want a party for understandable reasons.

So let’s get to actually insensitive shall we?! Marco’s reaction to this is at first confusion as he didn’t realize the stump was real, though Tom, Kelly and Pony are convinced it’s not. Also this episode implies Kelly is from mewni, but she turns out not to be so why she knows about the stump I genuinely don’t know. They think it’s just a baby thing.. though in Tom’s defense he dosen’t phrase it that way, thinks star still beliving is cute, which for a teenage boy finding out his girlfriend belivies in santa is very sweet and mature of him, and is trying to be nice about it even if he doesn’t believe.  But Marco.. his response to his friend having a good reason for not wanting to have the party.. is to complain about how much effort he put into it and try to guilt and bribe her into having it by mentoining he got her faviorite cake flavor, rainbow. Just.. WOW. I’ve seen some bad turns from characters, but WOWWWWWW. Holy shit.. I mean at least other jerkass marco episodes before this had SOME reasoning to them. Sophmore Slump had him clearly sublimating his feelings for star combined with the usual obnoxiousness of someone having gone abroard for the first time, which as Letterkenny recently went into, the only thing worse is Stillborn Puppies. Nothing else. 

And with Lint Catcher while he was presumptive and not blameless.. river still outright lied to him. Here? It’s clear star dosen’t want this, cake can be refigirated, he only takes a loss on the choclate fountain and he could still just let everyone have some and say it’s for stump day to appease her. He dosen’t have to take a loss on this finacially or morally and there would be no harm done. But that’s.. not what HE wanted, not waht HE set up and he wants what HE wanted, which was to impress star with a thoughtful gesture. But that’s the thing bud: Gestures aren’t about you or what you get. Their about doint something nice for another fucking person. It’s the whole point of christmas and birthdays: To just give someone something to be ncie and to celebrate the day and them respectively. If she dosen’t WANT your gift for understandable reasons and isn’t being rude about it you don’t have any leg to stand on you seflish twatwaffle. 

So already Marco is not coming off well.. and if you know this episode you know it gets worse. Oh god it gets worse. So first PONYHEAD of all people calls out Marco.. and for once, PONYHEAD, the most selfish, most unresonable and a character whose tolerablity varies on the episode, tells him he’s being selfish and is only pressing on because of his need to control things. So not only is Ponyhead right but the episode LIKELY wants you to feel she’s wrong because she’s pony which is not how this work as she knows star well and thus, while unaware she still belivied in the stump, which tracks as while it’s obvious she does Pony is so up her own whatever she has that functions as an ass, it’s understandable she’d miss some details. So no Pony’s right, and the fact PONY is one of the more resonable people in this episode is both a sign of the apocalypse, which is thankfully starting to recede, and a clear marker of just how bad Marco’s being if someone who torments him and disagrees with him out of principal is entirely right. 

Oh but it gets worse as next up, Tom steps in and tries to get Marco to back out, admitting he told him this was a bad idea. Now granted Tom did mess up by not stepping in to stop this a bit.. but he A) didn’t know how much his girlfriend genuinely belivied in the stump and B) Probably assumed Marco meant well, as would I before he whined about not getting his way, and decided it was worth a try. So he’s not that bad, and while it is a bit ehhh to try and take back credit for this when he participated, it’s still minor and Marco is still being a huge dick who refuses to help shut things down when it’s clear the party is only causing star to have a panic attack and assault some humble marachi players. He sees nothing good is coming from this and just wants what star wants. Also it paints Marco in a worse light as he was warned about this, and was so obssed with making it a suprise party because that’s how his plan went, he refused to just.. talk to her about it. Hell he could’ve just casually asked “Why do you never celebrate your birthday on your birthday”. It’s an easy question, dosen’t give the game away and allows him to gage if this is a good idea or not BEFORE baking a cake , hiring a band and getting a chocolate fountain. Instead he just went ahead with it.  And he did so.. because this ISN’T about making Star happy. This is abotu HIM making star happy. Him showing her how thoughtful, and considerate and sweet he is and how he’s always been there for her and how maybe she should be with him instead of Tom. I mean it just comes off that way.. he made it a suprise party because in his head that’s how it worked and she was super impresed and left tom that day to be with him in some elaborate fantasy. Granted the episode dosen’t say this.. but it sure as hell acccidently implies hte hell out of it by having marco act like a selfish ass who refuses to take what STAR wants into consideration, and just wants to get his fantasy back on track. What supports this to me is how he treats tom, you know one of his best friends: He, again, accuses him of forgetting.. then calls him a bad boyfriend.. a bad boyfriend for NOT wanting to force a celebration on his girlfriend she does not want, and for not forcing it on her. For you know GROWING AS A PERSON.  Beacuse here’s the pickle pumpernickle: This thing Marco’s doing? Is exactly the kind of thing a pre-character development TOM did, that was rightfully framed as bad. Being controlling, wanting things to go JUST a certain way instead of letting them flow naturally, not getting the hint star isn’t intrested, and not caring about what she wants and only what you want. Marco is doing the same thing Tom used to do. And for starters i’ts already bad because you know MARCO WAS THE ONE WHO FINALLY GOT IT THROUGH TO TOM THAT THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR WAS TOXIC AND SELFISH. But apparently when it’s Marco himself doing it it’s fine. If there was ever any clear evidence Marco regressed as a character, there it is.  Him actively unelarning a lesson he taught someone else and then getting combative when that person rightly tries to call him out. Marco is just insufferable in this episode: He’s being selfish, creepy and posseive and he’s apparenlty supposed to, at least on some level BE RIGHT.  But.. we will get to that. Consider a pin put in this rant. 

So Tom overreacts, and throws some fire at marco, which is genuinely wrong and Kelly’s right to call him out, and then headlocks him asking marco to say he’s a good boyfriend. Marco screams out ‘NEVVVEEEERRRR”

I just made this, by hapinstance, while watching the video I put up there. I.. I did not think i’d get to use this so soon but my god. Just my god that’s a terrible thing to say.  So the party soon breaks down elsewhere as Kelly is mad at tom for.. understandable reasons again the guy she has a crush on was just nearly set on fire, even if i’m still on Tom’s side overall here, it’s still not right. Janna points out it’s probably because she has a crush on marco, which while acurate dosen’t mean she was wrong and Tad pops out to be upset about that. Even though you know you two are broken up and as Kelly points out he needs to move out. Pony is mad she’s not getting any attention and Starfan is mad because star’s mad. Star results to desperate measures, opening the windows to try and repeate the act of the settlers.  She didn’t however count on the Janna factor as she throws the stump in the fire, which is in chracter. What’s not, and again I give Jess full credit for this one, is that everyone just starts.. warming around the stump and not caring like a bunch of jackasses not caring about their close friend, and in tom’s case, girlfriend’s feelings. Also tom and marco apparently stopped fighting just to be this stupid. 

But naturally burning the symbolic stump is a bad idea and the real one attacks. Protip: If you live in a world of magical nonsense, maybe don’t discount the magic stump. Everyone’s captured, including moon and river, with River also being suprised and replying to Star’s annoyance at him not beliving with “Sweetie it’s a stump!”. Alan Tudyk is a god and I feel you all should acknowleddge that. But yeah everything seemsm to be bad but everyone apologizes, if not for the right things in Marco’s case, and Tom says “I’m sorry i’m a bad boyfriend!”. You .. you aren’t. You did nothing wrong. I feel like this is tom for the last agrivating 6 minutes of the episode

He did SOME THINGS wrong but he is NOT a bad boyfriend. He is throughtful, kind and while he has flaws, SO DOES STAR. He is not a bad boyfriend for not wanting to repeat past abusive actions! GAH. Let’s just get on with it. They all hold hands, they thiunk this is what made the stump go away but Star is sure it was just going to kill them, Moon and River have a thousand yard stare as they realize they both have to get repairs for this room now and do an extra big stump day next year to make sure it dosen’t come back. And Marco apologizes to star.. for not beliving her. Not for forcing this on her, not for causing all of this, not at all to tom, but for not beliving her while star FUCKING APOLOGIZES TO HIM.  Pin removed, bullshit falling to the floor... Trunks if you would. 

Thank you. Star DID NOTHING WRONG. Tom DID LESS WRONG THAN MARCO. WHY ARE THEY APOLOGIZING. Why is this little shithead getting everything he wants as the party happens after all, if a day later, and he gets to dance with star, while everyone else is painted as being in the wrong? That’s what makes this special so putrid: that MARCO is apparently in the right for doing the same , if on a smaller scale, manipulative shit tom used to do before he grew as a person, yet the episode sides with him, props him up and teases Starco. If it’s Starco it’s okay apparently and that’s.. not okay. You can’t .. build a ship on a character acting like a jackass. That’s not how this works. Marco was wrong, he was bad and he should FEEL bad. Instead he’s just a creepy jerk this entire episode, being entitled, manipulating star, screaming at tom.. and gets REWARDED FOR IT. Fuck this episode. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: I believe I said Fuck this episode.  This is easily one of star vs’ worst episode and much like the season after this episode it gets worse the more you think about it. I put it on my worst holiday episodes list for a reason.. and frankly even with the decent first 4 mintues it should be higher. It’s an unplesant mess that throughly ruins Marco’s character and takes him from a kind, upstanding, polite and bright young man to a creepy manpiulative jackasss. Fuck this episode and have a happy holidays. 

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | August 10-16th 2020

Complete

💙 With Only You by brucespringsteen (Time Travel | 47K | Explicit): Steve, semi-retired and still a bastard who doesn’t follow rules, touches a cube that sends him to 1938, eighty-six years in the past. He takes it well. Bucky, twenty-one and baby-faced, takes it even better.

Forgive, Yet Never Forget by Kalee60/ @kalee60​ (Post-Endgame | 8K | Explicit): Steve Rogers was a broken man. He'd failed to keep his friends alive, had lived through the snap, the blip, Thanos, whatever that torrid time of his life full of blood, fear and pain had been. Yet the one good thing to come out of the worst years of his life - he had Bucky back. And a head full of issues along with it.Issues that meant the only way Steve could get out of his overbearing mind is to fall into oblivion by paying one night stands, use people he never had to see again, people he couldn't let down.So what happens when Bucky accosts him after a mission and wants answers, wants only to help Steve? Can an old weary supersoldier, whose self worth is nonexistent, start to heal and find happiness, when he truly believes he doesn't deserve it?

Love Me, Hold Me, Squeeze Me by musette22/ @musette22​, paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Evanstan PRF, PWP | 4,5K | Explicit): Chris grabs his junk when he's anxious. Sebastian notices.

Closer by musette22/ @musette22​ (Evanstan RPF | 5K | Teen): The relief that floods Sebastian at seeing Chris alive and well is intense, lifting some of that debilitating weight that’s been pressing down on his chest all evening, but it’s short lived. Because Chris looks... Well, he looks unfairly gorgeous as always, with his beard and his soft, cerulean eyes, but he also looks nervous and just a little bit shifty.The feeling of unease grows when Chris shoots him a smile that’s tense around the edges and says, “Hey, Seb. Can we talk for a moment?”

💙 a question of worth by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Post-Endgame | 30K | Teen): In which Steve and Bucky return the Infinity Stones, and return to a world drastically changed from the one Bucky left five years ago, and Bucky has to struggle with the knowledge that his best friend held Mjölnir, and at least briefly had the power of a god. So where does that leave an ex-brainwashed assassin?

Adorably awkward by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​ (Shrunkyclunks | 32K | Explicit): The one where Bucky uses Steve’s car window as a mirror and Steve can appreciate the view…

Extra Sugar, 32. the future by luninosity/ @luninosity​ (Evanstan, Dom/Sub AU | 112K | Explicit): Sebastian's feeling anxious about a change. Chris will always want to help. (Part 6 of 💙Like Sugar (Spell It Out))

💙 Songbird by chicklette/ @chicklette​ (Singer Bucky, Fake relationship | 66K | Explicit): At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top. Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

💙 Heirloom by 2bestfriends/ @addyetc​ (Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage | 21K | Explicit): King Steven Grant Rogers of Aphekion is only 20 years old. He relies on the wisdom of his advisors, the strength and honesty of his people, and the love and kindness his mother left to him. He wants nothing more than to honor them all by bringing peace to his kingdom. So much has been sacrificed already. If he must sacrifice his hope for love, then so be it.

WIP

💙 Querencia by SinpaiCasanova (Royalty, ABO AU, Tudor Era | 4/6 | 14K | Explicit): “Oh no, Mother, not another courting ceremony,” Steve protests, a whine slipping into his voice that he’d be rather embarrassed about if anyone other than Sarah ever heard it. “I beg you, no more. I can’t go through that puffed up charade again, being paraded before a dozen worthy Omegas like I’m some prime cut of meat. She probably won’t even like me.” “Well, Steven,” she gently corrects, “she is a he, and the only one you’d be ‘paraded’ in front of.”

💙 Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: Lessons in Lust, Longing and Inappropriate Erections. by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​ (Shrunkyclunks | 3/4 | 17K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is a decorated (though young) Sergeant in the United States Army, a Ranger with the 75th regiment, a sniper of unparalleled skill; he still expects his first day as an Avenger to be challenging. He is not at all prepared for the greatest challenge to be one hot as fuck, steely eyed, Colonel Rogers. More specifically, he is not expecting the greatest challenge to be keeping his dick under control whenever Colonel Rogers, with his broad shoulders and his authoritative command and his fucking thick, gorgeous beard, enters into Bucky’s immediate vicinity.

💙 (i will) leave a light on by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades​ (Post-Endgame, Canon Divergent | 4/7 | Explicit): Twice a day, every day, Steve lights the lantern at the top of the lighthouse.One day, every year, a door opens and Bucky steps through. This is the story of how Steve and Bucky reclaim all of the years they've lost and what Valhalla means to someone who's willing to wait for it.

💙 Tender is the Ghost by Hark_bananas/ @harkbananas​ (Post-WS | 8/12 | 97K | Explicit): This thought is uncontrollably followed by another one: I’m not alone anymore. He looks over his shoulder, through the kitchen door, to where Bucky is sitting at his usual place at the head of the dining table, and he feels an unconstrainable smile breaking out across his face, the barest hint of threatening tears along its bright edge. Bucky is still looking past Steve’s left ear, but slowly, gingerly, one side of his mouth quirks up. Steve feels giddy, he wants to shout, or faint, or something to relieve the carbonated pressure that is bubbling up inside of him. Instead, he laughs, short and cheerful, and opens the oven door. (Part 2 of Tender is the Ghost)

💙 sharpen your teeth (tell yourself that it’s just business) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-WS | 1/2 | 8K | Explicit): He stays because it’s safe, because Hydra cannot get to him here, because Rogers—still waiting for his dead friend to claw his way out of the Winter Soldier’s broken psyche—will go to the ends of the earth to find him if they do. So he watches Rogers watch him, and Barnes doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he knows he has found it the first time he sees Rogers’s eyes drop down to his lips and dart guiltily away. Barnes pretends he doesn’t notice and unlike Rogers, he can act. The Red Room made him well, and Hydra could ruin only so much. He changes his act, a few weeks in. He starts looking back.

💙 Revenance by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​, SinpaiCasanova (The Old Guard AU/The Song of Achilles AU | 4/? | 11K | Mature): And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Or, the one where Steve and Bucky are immortal and used to be known as Achilles and Patroclus.

Re-read

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe (Shrunkyclunks | 12K | Explicit): Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.

the sound of rain on tin by luninosity/ @luninosity​ (Stucky & Evanstan Crossover | 3/4 | Teen): Okay, Bucky thought. He could deal with sudden universe-hopping. He’d seen weirder things. Hell, he himself probably counted as a weirder thing, brainwashed cryogenically frozen former legendary assassin and all.Chris, who looked like Steve, but who wasn't Steve, stared at him some more.

[mcmactictac]

Always Gold by Radical Face is a c! crime boys song please let me elaborate.

First of all, Welcome home son by radical face is a c! Tommy and c! Techno song. So as an sbi enthusiast I think it’s fun to give them songs by the same artist who have very similar vibes. Radical face has a wonderful job of calmly showing intense emotion. When you listen to the words in a lot of their songs it’s very emotional, but you can also tune out and just listen to the music. I’m working my way through their discography but they just radiate fanon sbi vibes. Same energy as a piece of fanart I saw a long time ago with Tommy sleeping on Wilburs lap as techno leans against them. Just that calm and relaxed sense of love and belonging.

Anyways analysis time woo let’s crank out some lyrics. Honestly the lyrics are so perfect throughout I’m basically going to include most of the song oops.

“We were tight knit boys, Brothers in more than name. You would kill for me And knew that I'd do the same”

Already off to a good start. I mean the tight knit part is obvious, like they’re both incredibly close with each other, especially at the beginning. Brothers in more than name?? Canonically Wilbur and Tommy aren’t siblings but they still SHARE that brotherly bond they still think of each other of family after everything. “You would kill for me and knew that I’d do the same” at the start? When they’re protecting their country together?? Yeah because they’re FAMILY they care about each other so much.

“And it cut me sharp, Hearing you'd gone away. But everything goes away, Yeah everything goes away”

Do I need to explain this one. I’m taking gone away as a reference to death here, like he’s up and left Tommy, and suddenly he’s just. Gone. Also the everything goes away is a great way to show the beginning of c! Tommys trauma, how he always feels like good things are going to be taken away from him. No matter what he has, his friends, his country, his discs, it’s all going to be gone eventually. Good things never seem to last for him.

“But I'm going to be here until I'm nothing but bones in the ground. And I was there, when you grew restless”

Wilbur talking about lmanberg as “here”. He knows he’s never going to leave it, the country he built. He lived there and that’s where he’ll die. The captain always goes down with his ship. The restless line reminds me of pogtopia, like Tommy watching as Wilbur started to lose it, started to grow more and more unstable. He was there for everything, the good and the bad even as he watched his brother descend into this downwards spiral and not being able to help him.

“Left in the dead of night. And I was there, when three months later. You were standing in the door all beat and tired and I stepped aside”

Now there’s two ways we could take this one. We could take a brief tour to sbi land and make this about Tommys exile, like he left exile at night after dream blew it all up, and he ended up at technos. And when Techno finally found him there it’s still that same kid he knew before who is just tired and needing someone, and so he lets him in. OR we could make this in reference to Wilburs revival. The three months later would be a reference to the time passed before Wilbur was revived. Now I could make this soft or I could make this angsty so I provide multiple options. 1. Tommy steps aside so Wilbur can see the sunrise, see the works that he’s missed and truly enjoy it again (not canon but shh) 2. I stepped aside but it’s Tommy moving away from Wilbur. Going no, you hurt me and I’m sorry that you’re suffering but I can’t be here for you anymore. 3. Or we got that nice metaphorical door of Tommys life and tommy seeing the brother he lost and choosing to let him “inside”, back into his life despite everything.

“We were opposites at birth I was steady as a hammer, No one worried cause they knew just where I'd be. And they said you were the crooked kind, And that you'd never have no worth But you were always gold to me”

Tommy is steady! Tommy wants the same things, he wants to protect his country, his friends and his discs. Everyone always knew what Tommy wanted and he was very open about what he cared about so everyone knew what was going on with him. Referring to Wilbur as the crooked one, the one who causes problems by creating a drug van, starting a war, blowing up his country. He had no worth because he thought so little of himself that he had to replace his personality with his actions. But tommy still sees him for who he is and up to Pogtopia that’s his big brother. That’s the man he would follow anywhere and trusts his whole world with. Wilbur was always special to tommy, even when he wasn’t to others.

“And back when we were kids, We swore we knew the future. And our words would take us half way 'round the world. But I never left this town and you never saw New York”

My main focus here is on the “but I never left this town” Wilbur always stayed in L’manberg, till the very end. He could never go anywhere else, and he didn’t. This also relates back to another song on my crimeboys list, two birds by Regina Spektor. Wilbur is never going to let go of L’manberg. It’s a part of who he is and he’s never going to be able to “leave” it. The you never saw New York line could be tommy because who knows Tommys plans before l’manberg. Then he got so wrapped up in this country he built that it became his everything, and he never got a chance to do anything else because of the effect it had on him. (I know this is stretching canon bear with me I like angst)

“And we ain't ever cross the sea. But I am fine with where I am now, This home is home, and all that I need. But for you, this place is shame. But you can blame me when there's no one left to blame. Oh I don't mind”

So many thoughts I don’t even know if I can make this coherent. For you this place is shame for Wilbur ESPECIALLY. It’s a reminder of the explosion he created, the hurt he caused the people who’s lives he ruined. He wants it to stand for all it was before, but he has to think about how it’s a source of hurt for so many people and how he sees that as his fault. I don’t think I can form coherent thoughts on the rest of this, enjoy

“All my life i’ve never known where you've been. There were holes in you, The kind that I could not mend. And I heard you say Right when you left that day, Does everything go away? Yeah, everything goes away. But I'm going to be here till forever, So just call when you're around.”

Final paragraph folks!! Ive never known where you’ve been! Tommy can never get a read on Wilbur and his emotions because he internalizes and hides them! He’s never going to be able to know and understand because Wilbur won’t let him! Holes in you the kind that I could not mend? YES. Wilbur is mentally ill and tommy cannot fix that, and he shouldn’t have to be the one responsible for helping Wilbur. Right when you left that day, the 16th, the day he left for the last time. Another reminder to tommy that everything leaves, nothing is guaranteed. L’manberg is gone and so is Wilbur. If we look at this pre revival, I’m gonna be here til forever could be Wilbur at L’manberg. He died there, and that’s where he’s always going to stay. He might be gone, and L’manberg might be gone but they’ll still always be there in spirit (get it spirit. Ghost. Ghostbur building L’manberg? Anyways...)

Mhm that was longer than I meant it to be I am working on multiple more dsmp playlists and I will share once I’m done and maybe do some more of these cause I find them fun. I also did not edit this at all so sorry if this is incoherent

[simpbur]

hello! i would like ur 40 song wiblur playlist

anon thank you so much for asking <333 while it would’ve been easier to just drop the link i have so many thoughts about everything so i explained why every single song has its spot on this list which was IMMENSELY fun for me

(also: if anyone does want the link i can provide both apple music and spotify but if u would like the apple music link i’d rather it be through dms or an ask off anon that i can make private!)

another also: i bolded all the songs for ease of perusing if you don’t want the director’s commentary and bolded + italicized the ones that i think fit Very Well

another another also: wrote the second bit of this on my laptop and the keyboard is p funky so if there are any typos or things that do not make sense i will try to fix them asap haha

saint bernard by lincoln: this is one of those like. Dream SMP Songs that i added because it fits into so many different relationships and plot lines and arcs but i think there’s some connection to c!wlbur somewhere out there. idk i asked my friend and he said to add it so this one goes out to him

amnesia was her name by lemon demon: ghostbur song ghostbur song! mostly comes from this lovely animatic

o valencia! by the decemberists: okay this is one of those songs that only really has one lyric that fits but is an absolutely banger so it’s here anyway. you’ll also notice a trend of quasi love songs that i relate to c!wilbur’s perception of l’manburg and i think this song shows this in a really cool way, esp with the chorus (‘and i swear to the stars i’ll burn this whole city down’ is The Line)

achilles come down by gang of youths: another one of those Dream SMP Songs. i think this fits better with c!tommy but i like it too much to remove it. this is a somewhat common trend with the earlier songs on this playlist (i’ve been building this thing since january, for reference)

brave as a noun by ajj: another Dream SMP Song. i think certain verses fit better than others when it comes to wilbur’s character but that ones that work really work

harness your hopes by pavement: a song that is one here for vibes alone. i have no idea what these lyrics mean. all i know is that i heard it, thought of c!wilbur, and put it on the playlist. thank you all for being here

evelyn evelyn by evelyn evelyn: sad-ist made this a tommy and tubbo song (as she should) so it’s validity on this playlist is questionable but folks used to compare it to wilbur and tommy’s relationship during the pogtopia arc and i think some points were made there

the execution of all things by rilo kiley: i’m so excited to get here because this was the first song i put on the playlist that i think really works and i thumb nailed an animatic for the last verse and november 16th so! i think it’s a good l’manburg song and the last verse has some good ghostbur lines (‘and lately you’re all alone with nothing left but sleep/but sleep never comes to you, it’s the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak’)

i’m just your problem from adventure time: this ones a bit tricky since at is my favorite show of all time and i cannot detach this song from its in-show context very well but there is a very cool animatic with this song that landed it a spot on the playlist

man burning by josh ritter: almost became an animatic but the audio i wanted to use (which i recorded at a josh ritter concert and it’s just him and his guitar and there’s echo and it’s very haunting and pretty) has my stepbrother singing in the background and i could not edit it out so. that will probably not happen. but anyways the only hole i would pick in this song is that it’s mostly about self sabotage which isn’t really applicable but i think the imagery is cool

mamma mia by abba: here me out. here me out. this is another song that fits so well and i have spent so many hours thinking about this and somewhere there is a note on my phone explaining how every single line relates to c!wilbur’s entire arc from founding l’manburg to the resurrection (made when we thought gbur was going to get resurrected in january) and just. the metaphorical ‘you’ is l’manburg does this make any sense (another almost animatic except now that wilbur’s actually back it might become an actual animatic)

the other side of paradise by glass animals: no idea why this is here other than being a Dream SMP Song. it’s good tho

infinitesimal by mother mother: they saaaaay it stared with a big bang but they saaaaaaaay it came out of a small thing latelyyyyy i’ve been feeling like a big bang You Know

curses by the crane wives: had a thing drawn out for this song showing the comparisons between c!wilbur and c!niki because of the chorus and i think the last two lyrics of said chorus are the best thing about this one

lonely eyes by the front bottoms: gotta admit that i have no idea how this song got on here but i’ve come to associate it with ghostbur based on vibes alone. it’s a friendly song he’s a friendly ghost it works. the other tfb song coming up fits a bit better methinks

king of new orleans by better than ezra: not to put better than ezra on my c!wilbur playlist but like. something about the whole ‘tasing something up to let it fall’ motif makes me think

get me away from here, i’m dying by belle and sebastian: another almost animatic song (there’s a trend here). not only does the story told in this song work i like the lines ‘play me a song to set me free/nobody writes them like they used to so it may as well be me’ in relation to my l’manburg

montgomery forever by the front bottoms: certain bits and pieces of this song fit so well, specifically the chorus and those bits in the last two choruses Yeah (’montgomery forever and ever and ever and now they’re blowing it up/(x2)/as you started laughing and crying and trying to explain how all you want to do is leave’)

don’t look back in anger by oasis: out of all my almost animatic songs, this one got the furthest. the animatic, which I got pretty far in thumbnailing, was about wilbur and tommy and kind of drawing comparisons between their characters, also about the revolution in general. maybe i’ll finish that animatic one day idk 

snow by ricky montgomery: i wish i had a link for this so bad but!! saw art on twitter!! with the lyric ‘bury me six feet in snow’!! and went ahfsdjfk!!

burning pile by mother mother: a Dream SMP Song. also a jam there’s no real specific connection for this one but i think it could fit in a couple of ways

rounds by the oh hellos: in the same position as snow except it was on tumblr..... @ whoever made this comic i saw these lyrics in your brain is massive and your art is incredible

lovely by mt. eddy: on here for vibes alone. there’s something in the lyrical content too, but my thoughts in that regard are not very fleshed out

adventures in solitude by the new pornographers: ah yes..... the song that prompted this all...... this is a beautiful and incredibly well written song and if you’re going to listen to any song off of this playlist i’d encourage you to listen to this one. it’s place of here is mostly cause of the chorus but the imagery in the verses could all represent a part of c!wilbur and i’d love to explore that more

caught in the middle by paramore: obligatory paramore song. i think it got on here because limbo = ‘middle’ but i’m not quite sure. on the verge of being deleted if i can find a better pmore song

delicate by damien rice: one of the oddest songs on this list and i am well aware that it sticks out like a sore thumb. a song that’s on here pretty much because of one lyric, which is ‘and why’d you sing hallelujah/if it means nothing to you’ which i related to both eret’s betrayal and how my l’manburg is hallelujah yknow

bang! by ajr: almost animatic song. i think we all know what the bang is here

somewhere only we know by lily allen: ik i said don’t look back in anger has the most potential to get made into an animatic but this song might actually take it place. on par with adventures in solitude in terms of how pretty of a song it is, and probably even moreso. it’s kind of turned into a ghostbur song in my head, and makes me cry like an infant child every time i hear it

a pearl by mitski: i cannot defend this song’s place on here past the line ‘it’s just that i fell in love with a war and nobody told me it ended’

eight by sleeping at last: the official c!wilbur song needs a spot on here <3 if i can dig up the clip of cc!wilbur talking about this song in relation to his character i’ll add it but until then yeah <3

always by rilo kiley: no idea why this is on here but it fits well!! could not tell you why!! banger!!

celebration guns by stars: it’s a hauntingly beautiful song about war, and kind of one of those that necessarily isn’t about wilbur but moreso his place in the story? idk how to explain it but yes

passerine by the oh hellos: it’s. it’s from the . the fic. yeah h

oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place by bright eyes: added this after the real resurrection and i think it’s because fo the imagery? also the last verse

we are beautiful, we are doomed by los campesinos!: all i have to say is ‘i cannot emphasize enough that my body/is a badly designed, poorly put together vessel/harboring these diminishing, so called vital organs/i hope my heart goes first, i hope my heart goes first!’ has always made me think of pogtopia era wilbur :(

dead weight by jack stauber: no real connection other than eret played this song during a break during the ghostbur’s january ‘resurrection’ and i heard it and went :0

point me at lost lands by tired pony: gives me season on l’manburg vibes..... i love how free and passionate it sounds and that's p much the only reason it’s on this list haha

ghosting by mother mother: added this five seconds ago because i could not BELIEVE it was not on here. ghostbur song. mans sang it on that one stream with the reverb and everything. the lyrics ‘i will be kind and i’ll be sweet/if you stop staring straight through me’ hit particularly hard back when everyone thought that ghostbur was actually wilbur in disguise 

[screamting]

so i spent yesterday staring off into space for a while and started categorizing the general symptoms of the lazarus pit so maybe there can actually be a consistency with using it one day

Lazarus Pit: 

not really meant to be used on dead bodies.

*it’s NAMED after lazarus but that doesn’t mean jesus dumped his body in a lazarus pit. gonna guess it was discovered post 500AD, when the New Testament started to coagulate

Ra’s al Ghul, who started using it ~450 years pre first appearance (so somewhere in the early or late 1600s depending when he’s speaking) so it was likely already a legend once he found it and therefore already named

It Do:

Revitalizes and restores damaged cells like if u got stabbed or are going into organ failure it’ll restore you to fully functioning, though it DOES affect the brain somehow

Does Not Need Much Time For Soaking and it’s not a good thing to stay in there because presumably your cells do keep dividing and if you never have any cells die apparently you turn into clayface??? at least in universe-16.

Brain is affected by temporarily heightened emotion and creation of delusions

For Clarity, delusions are a belief that doesn’t change when given information to the contrary. We’re talking about this as a medical condition, not as someone being obstinate or having opinions that do not make sense. it is a brain thing. 

Delusions can be extremely varied. You’re most likely to find very big cases, like Hong Xiuquan, who believed himself to be the brother of Jesus Christ, led one of the bloodiest wars in history in uprising against the Qing Dynasty and conquered like...... i’m guessing 1/16th of southern china. That’s a lot. Other famous examples include the three christs of Ypsilanti and people with a ‘napoleon delusion.’

More common delusions you might encounter are things like ‘I’m being followed’ (and no amount of reassurance can stop that belief), especially in people with dementia or alzheimers, where as their disease progresses, the difficulty in navigating the world might end up creating delusions like someone trying to steal their items, or that the date is not what it is, etc.  People with Capgras Delusion will believe someone they love has been replaced with an imposter, ala body snatchers--but they will still recognize that same loved one if spoken to over the phone.

People with delusions also tend to be a bit more emotionally volatile, most likely because the world is horrifying and everyone seems to be trying to gaslight you that this stranger in your house is your mother when they are clearly an imposter even if you can’t say why you know that is not your mother.

So now that we’ve made it extremely clear that delusions are a medical condition and you cannot argue someone out of it:

Pit Exposure:

The pit before Jason Todd was not used on dead bodies, but the mental effects were noticed before, meaning simple exposure is enough to cause what i’m going to call brain damage, since we do know that capgras and alzheimers/dementia are also caused by the brain’s state being changed

So exposure to the pit gives you mild brain damage. After a long time without using the pit, the effects seem to wear off (see: “temporary insanity” listed as a side effect)

Since if the pit restores all the other cells, it can presumably also restore neurons-- so while it does affect the brain and presumably its functioning for a while, the damage over time can be repaired as long as you stay the hell away from it for a while.

It could be that the pit causes harm by repairing you TOO MUCH, adding too many trace minerals and ending up ignoring the v important ‘trace’ part

Long term exposure definitely makes these symptoms more obvious. See: Ra’s al Ghul has a hell of a grandeur delusion and absolutely thinks he is literally never going to die. He’s been dosing for 450 years. Talia and Damian are less obvious, but considering their upbringing, lazarus pit damage is hard to discern from regular psychic damage.

Apparently being DEAD in lazarus water just just ups that to the 9th degree. Ra’s arises horny for destruction. Jason springs out in a full ass panic attack, flings himself off a cliff, and possibly claws someone’s eye out (valid).

What I’m Getting At:

Jason Todd’s firm beliefs that a) Batman refusing to kill criminals is the only thing between now and a good world and b) Tim Drake is his replacement and he was unloved are delusions. They are born out of real traumas that happened to him, enhanced by the pit, and you can’t talk someone out of brain damage.

Literally the reason they can’t get Jason to listen when he first appears when they keep saying he was loved and admired are because Jason’s delusions do not allow those as a possibility, and so it reads as lies trying to gaslight him.

This is months (years?? who knows) after initial pit exposure, and this is hanging around. Maybe it was worse because he definitely already had brain damage when put into the pit since a crowbar definitely wasn’t going to let him go easy, but this is still a long time after exposure that “Pit Maddness” is still affecting him. It enhances his angry and defensive emotions, has taken his insecurities and made them facts. This is also why over time, Jason does eventually start to listen and come around again in newer comics, being less set in killing criminals in a single strike rule, and a lot more able and willing to work in teams again. Pit Madness took either a Very Long Time to wear off for him, or we don’t realize just how long it takes for people with much shorter, less intense exposure to have it wear off and stop affections their perception and emotions, too

So what I’m getting at is

holy fu k no one ever put bruce in a lazarus pit he will be the Worst.

[spockfallsinlove]

Dreaming in Telepathy  Commission for @mimidraven Kirk/Spock, AOS 1.6k words

. . . 

Not a lot of things surprised Jim anymore. 

Jim’s mom had promised to come home for his 16th birthday, but didn’t—not surprising. Frank was in a particular temper that night, blaming Jim for his mom’s lack of appearance—equally unsurprising. 

But having an extremely lucid dream where Jim dreamt that he saw a black-haired, green-tinged Vulcan boy about his age standing across a field from him… that was surprising.

It felt real. He was still wearing the jean overalls he fell asleep in, the steel-toed boots that were tinged with dirt. It wasn’t until Jim looked at his surroundings that he was convinced it was a dream: although he was standing in a field, wheat bowing in the wind and brushing his bare arms, the sky was flickering and fizzing out like a television screen with a bad databand connection. 

And then there was this—Vulcan. 

Jim called to him. The Vulcan boy didn’t even look up. 

Jim took a few steps forward; at first, the wheat graciously crinkles out of the way, until he felt something firm yet pliant against him. His hands, weather-worn and coarse just as they were in reality, pushed against the invisible wall again, and again, until something shifted and he fell through. 

He was no longer in a field. He was in some compound, shiny and chromatic, with the lights dimmed.

“Hello?” he called. 

This time the Vulcan turned. His look of alarm stopped Jim from taking another step forward. “How did you get in here?” he demanded.

Jim said, “Uh… just walked through.” 

A Vulcan eyebrow raised incredulously. “Just walked through?” 

“Yeah.” Jim glanced around at the sterile room. “Although I might go back. Liked the field better.” 

“The—” The Vulcan halted. Straightened his back and clasped his hands. “Who are you?”

“Jim. Who’re you?” 

“I am Spock,” the Vulcan said. He seemed to be trying to draw himself up to an even more intimidating height, which was funny to Jim since they’re both the same size. “And you are trespassing on my meditations.” 

. . . 

Jim didn’t mean to dream Spock. It just… sort of happened, sometimes. He had no control over it—he’d go to bed, instructing his brain to conjure up some Spock material, and he’d wake up disappointed. Then, another night, he’d be falling asleep thinking about a complicated Calculus equation from his homework that he couldn’t solve earlier that day, and poof, Spock would be there, in his creepy chrome room.

“What even is this place?” Jim asked on the third dream. He was sitting cross-legged a few feet from Spock, who was bent over a PADD.

“This is an imitation of a Vulcan Academy classroom,” Spock said, not looking up. At least he was talking to Jim, rather than outright ignoring his presence. “I have not mastered turning on the lights, however.” 

Jim snorted. “You don’t know how to flick a switch?”

Spock raised his eyes to Jim’s, and looked very bored. “We are in a dream. In a dream, the mind must conjure images, as well as manipulate those images. It takes great concentration and mental fortitude to do so.” 

“Oh.” Jim rocked back and forth on his butt, hands holding his crossed heels. “I thought you said that you’re meditating.” 

“I am. This… dream is unexpected.” Spock breathed a small sigh. “But my father says that if I must dream, then I might as well make it a productive exercise.” 

“Like turning the lights on,” Jim said.

“Precisely.” 

Jim nodded. Grinned. “You tell him about me?”  

Spock shifted, and his hands appeared to grip the PADD even tighter. “I did not. To admit that I have an unknown entity in my meditations that I did not mindfully conjure, and that it’s a human no less, would have my father… displeased.” 

“Now that’s irony,” Jim said. At Spock’s inquisitively raised eyebrow, Jim explained, “Being a disappointment to fathers happens to be my specialty.” 

. . . 

The dreams became more frequent during the summer months. It made no sense to Jim, since every night he fell into bed exhausted from working on the farm with Frank, too tired to even consider dreaming about Spock.

But almost every night, from June to August, there he was, his precise bowl-cutted head bent over his PADD.

Sometimes Spock carried the conversation; about smaller things, like what Vulcan was like or what he was studying in the “real” version of this classroom. He didn’t seem to want to talk about these topics for long—Jim chalked it up to not knowing much about the planet Vulcan, so his dream-Spock wouldn’t be able to tell him much anyway. 

But mostly, it was Jim talking. Spock seemed genuinely interested in discussing Earth, and the Kirk farm, and Jim’s aspirations—so Jim told him about all of it. It was oddly comforting to tell a dream entity, a Vulcan one no less, about his dream to go into space and explore new worlds. 

“How will you get there?” Spock asked. “Will you study to be an engineer?” 

“Nah. I love math and making shit work, but the real action is on the bridge. That’s where I want to be.” 

“As an officer?” Spock asked.

Jim felt sheepish, suddenly. “A Captain,” he admitted. 

Spock sat there for a moment. Looked Jim up and down with discerning eyes; eyes that weren’t real, Jim knew, but somehow he felt like this was his subconscious discerning him and judging him for what he really was.

Sitting back on his heels, Spock finally nodded. “I think you would make a fine addition to Starfleet in this capacity,” he pronounced. 

Jim woke up that morning with his face sore from smiling so much.

. . . 

On September 17th, two days after Jim sent in his Starfleet academy application, Spock wasn’t in the dream. 

Jim walked into dark corners he hadn’t before, stumbling around the dark classroom, groping for the walls. He called Spock’s name, only getting an echo back. Finally his foot hit a solid object, sending Jim sprawling across the floor, cursing.

“Jim,” the object quietly said. 

Jim blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim light. “Spock?” 

Spock was huddled, arms around his legs, against the wall. His head was tilted back and he was looking at Jim with that impassive stare. Jim could tell something was wrong by a distinct look in Spock’s eyes.

Crouching to Spock’s level, Jim put a hesitant hand on Spock’s arm. “Spock, what’s going on? Did someone die or something?”

“No,” Spock said impatiently. “How did you get in here, again? I made sure not to conjure any additional details in this meditation.” 

“Well, I’m here anyway,” Jim said, “so you might as well tell me what’s wrong with you.” 

Spock sighed. He put a hand through his hair, making it uncharacteristically messy. “I have rejected acceptance at the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“Okay,” Jim said slowly. “And?”

“And this… disappointed my father. Until he found my application to the Academy.” Spock minutely shifted. “Then he was simply angry.” 

“You applied to the Academy?” Jim asked.

“Yes.” 

“And I take it you weren’t supposed to.” 

“Correct.”

Jim sat back on his heels, chewing at his lip. “I’m sorry, Spock.”

“You cannot be sorry for something for which you have nothing to be blamed.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to empathize. I know what you’re going through.”

Spock eyed him. “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?”

“Because I know a thing or two about disappointing family.” Jim plopped down next to Spock, legs pulled up to his chest to mirror his position. “Your respect for your dad is admirable, but at some point you gotta just accept what you want, Spock. Frank nearly threw me out of the house when I told him I wanted to go the Academy next year, because it basically means he loses an unpaid farm hand. But I don’t want to work on that dead-end farm forever. It’s the same thing with you and your dad.” 

“My family does not own a farm,” Spock said, his brow crinkling.

“No, Spock, just—” Jim pinched his nose and huffed out a laugh. “What I’m saying is that I don’t know anything about Vulcan culture or traditions, but I do know what it’s like to suppress parts of yourself. And at some point, you need to ask yourself what you want. Not what your father wants.” 

Spock looked down at his hands. He considered that silently for a long time. He said, softly, “I want to attend the Academy. Explore space.”

Jim put a hand on Spock’s shoulder; when their eyes meet, Jim said, firmly, “Then do that.” 

. . . 

Jim didn’t dream Spock again until his acceptance letter to the Academy came in the mail.

“I got in!” Jim announced as soon as he dreamed Spock again. He ran toward Spock, waving an arm in the air like he had to the acceptance papers in his hands. “I’m getting away from the damn farm, damn Frank, the damn podunk Iowa town—all of it!” Jim grabbed Spock’s shoulders, gently, because he knew Vulcans didn’t like touch. “I’m going to space, Spock!” 

Spock stared at him, almost dumbly. “Congratulations,” he said. “Is it—”

“Command trek, yeah.” Jim shook Spock’s shoulders gently. “Space, Spock. I’m that much closer to it.” 

There was a smile playing on Spock’s lips, or at least, closest to what Jim had ever seen on him. “I also have news.”

Jim caught the look he didn’t see before in Spock’s eyes. “You’re telling your dad to shove it and you’re going to the Academy too?” Jim asked.

“While I didn’t tell my father to ‘shove it’, exactly…” Spock finally smiled, a full-out grin. “Yes, I am going.” 

Jim was so proud of this dream Vulcan that he could kiss him. So he did. Spock responded, kissing back and pulling Jim in tightly. It knocked Jim’s breath out of him.

“Jim,” Spock said, quietly, once they pulled away. He gripped the fabric of Jim’s shirt. “I wish you were real.” 

Jim sighed. It was definitely his subconscious talking again; wishing, dreaming, hoping that he would find someone so perfectly suited to him as Spock was. Pushing his forehead against Spock’s, Jim whispered, “I wish you were real, too.” 

. . . 

Jim didn’t dream Spock after that night. Winter came and went, and in the spring Jim packed his bags and hopped on an air tram to San Francisco without so much as a backward glance. The campus was everything he thought it would be: buzzing with other cadets excited to learn, go to space, make a difference. Jim learned within a week of orientation that his dreams and aspirations weren’t unique, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about being around like-minded people.

Maybe that was what Spock was for him, Jim reasoned, the whole year he was dreaming him up. Maybe it was to help Jim accept that this was his path.

In his fourth week there, Jim woke up with a weird hankering for tea. He chalked it up to his new friend Bones’s nutty health lectures rubbing off on him. Jim blearily stumbled around campus at seven in the morning, looking for a decent tea shop. 

He stood in line of the first one he could find. Taking the time to answer his emails, he pulled out his PADD and scrolled around. The sun flashed against the screen and right into his eyes, forcing him to look up and squint.

When the glint was blinked out of his eyes, he saw a familiar face across the quad. It was staring at him with an intensity that Jim immediately recognized.

Jim stared back, wondering if it was possible that he had forgotten to wake up.

Spock walked toward him, dressed head-to-toe in full academy uniform. He stood before Jim, unmoving, looking shocked and gorgeous.

Jim, eloquently, croaked out, “Holy shit.” 

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. 

Jim stared for a moment longer. He remembered the kiss that they shared in that dream, those conversations, and Jim could just about kick himself. Of course Spock was real. He was too complicated and intelligent and perfect not to be. 

And now he was here. At the Academy. Standing only inches away.

“You’re real,” Jim breathed out. He held out a hand in an aborted move, as if to touch Spock and really make sure he was solid.

Spock smiled. It was the same way he had smiled in the dream, his lips quirked up and his eyes sparkling. His fingers reached out to encircle Jim’s wrist, gently, as he said, “I’m real, Jim.” 

. . . 

~September commissions are open - send me a DM~

[pjstafford]

A Look at my 2020

The end of the year is upon us. It’s been a tough one for all of us. It is a year we will all remember forever. I want to do a positive reflection of this year. I will probably write a blog about what I hope our country’s New Years Resolutions should be. The thoughts on that have been rolling around my head for a few days. But today, December 16, at 4:30 a.m. and unable to sleep, that 2020 familiar dread of what will happen today waking me early, I want to look at some positives. I want to unwrap the positives of 2020 like a Christmas gift before Christmas so that I can wrap myself in them as a blanket of warmth. One thing that I have been truly impressed with is the resilience of the human spirit. Let’s call this a resilience exercise.

Counting my blessings one by one...

1. I am alive. Surviving is a cause for celebration. As far as I know I have been COVID free...although there were a few days in April or early May when I was sick with something and in Feb I had the strangest cold in my life and this time last year weeks of fatigue ended in frozen shoulder syndrome on Christmas Eve. See, I want to be thankful, but I don’t want to be naive in my retrospection. Best to be honest. I’m not sure if I had COVID or not, but if I did I survived with relatively minor symptoms. Every cough or sniffle I feared in a completely irrational way was COVID. There was the week I walked around sniffing everything to make sure I could still smell. It dawns on me it is going to be difficult to write a honest and, yet, positive, retrospective of 2020. I am alive, but I have never been less healthy. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t had the physical exercise to which I am accustomed and now when I try to take a long walk I realize my stamina is gone. It will take years of concentrated effort once things are “back to normal” for me to become normal again. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did yoga daily in the Spring and switched to an online Tai chi class in the summer, but I don’t live near beauty or anything interesting so wasn’t motivated to walk and just my everyday life of lockdown in a studio apartment meant less movement. All of which sounds even to me like not very good justification. Did I mention though that I survived. I am alive. I will take that as blessing number one.

2. No one I care about very deeply has died or even been seriously ill from COVID. Doesn’t March 2020 seem far away? I don’t want to be dismissive of 300;000 dead especially with more to come. I or someone I love could still be gone by New Years Day. But in March and April we held our breaths for an apocalypse and at some point most of us decided to take a breath. I don’t know really if it’s good or bad that we have simply adjusted our normal and the number deaths we are willing to accept. It’s bad, what am I saying? It’s bad. But how long can we wait in fear? So I don’t know, but I want to count as a blessing that those I love have all survived to date. I cannot vanquish the fear, but I can be grateful for survival.

3. I have maintained employment in a bad economy and have mostly been able to work from home. There have been some struggles. Sometimes the work I do is depressing. Sometimes I feel I don’t make a difference. There has never been a worse time to be an advocate...or a person with disability, or a caregiver, or a provider agency, or a health care professional. I have maintained employment.

4. I count among my blessings the fact that I had a wonderful 2020 before....remember there was a 2020 before. I love when my work takes me to Santa Fe for a prolonged time. A friend came out in Feb for a wonderful weekend. Another friend came to Albuquerque to see me for my birthday in early March. I remember thinking how social I was in those first ten weeks in 2020. It’s as if I somehow knew....it sustained me.

5. I count among my blessings that when I felt my mental health despair getting at its worse...the strain of living alone in a studio apartment, working from that same apartment and following the Governor orders not to go or do anything. ..that I had friends and two weekends of “risky” behavior; a friend who came for the Fourth of July holiday and an out of state trip to Durango in late September. I’m fortunate that when I had to have human contact my closest friends were there for me

6. I count as my blessings that Biden won the election. It’s not simply a matter of politics. I’m not sure if the last eight months of the Trump Presidency wasn’t worse for my morale than the pandemic because Trump kind of lost whatever semblance of sanity he had. Part of the trepeditation over what each new day will bring is what Trump will say, do, tweet, exacerbate. I still fear revolution in the street before Jan 20. The pandemic is not the worse of what America has gone through. That’s the oddest thing about this year.

7. Here is the blessing which probably will be unpopular. The lockdown and stress of all we have experienced is tough, but the slowdown is a blessing for me. My life had gotten pretty busy. While I miss travel, it’s ok for a year not to have had the time suck that travel for work entails. I will be so happy the first work trip I get to go on, but I feel like 2020 has given me the gift of time. It’s odd because, like many, my creative sense has suffered. I have written almost nothing. Still, I often think of a Dylan lyric, maybe in the next life I will be able to hear myself think. I could hear myself think this year. Unfortunately I thought about the existentialist angst of the meaning of life and my failures as a human being and I don’t think there is enough time still to process the effects of the pandemic and I’m sick to death of the sound of my thoughts, but....I have been given this unique gift of time. Even on December 16th I am not rushed to shop, to cook, to decorate, to go to a zillion parties. It’s a different year. The Holiday will still come. It is pleasant not to feel urgency over, let’s face it, non-urgent things. I am mentally and emotionally fatigued, but not nearly as physically exhausted as I was this time last year

8. The next one is a big one. The gift of living in the moment. I have spent my entire life since 7th grade when Miss O’Neil gave me a copy of The Rubyait of Omar Khayyam trying to live with the philosophy of living for the now. Clear the cups of past regrets...tomorrow, why I may be myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years. The only time I have ever truly experience this is in a handful of concert experience. Even now, I fear for my future and I blame myself for my mistakes. Still, my relationship with time has changed. There is the sun rising and setting and that is a day. Seasons will change. But the gift of time means I can approach my day differently. When five o clock comes on a workday, a needed nap is a step away. No where to go on a Friday night... no where I can go...means the weekend rhythm exists only as I define it. The simple pleasures we always take for granted mean something more now. There is a coffee truck that stops near me on Fridays and Saturdays. When it first started stopping I was over the moon that I could walk and get a latte with fairly little risk. If I go to the grocery store and have a conversation with a stranger, it is different than it was before. Mindfulness exercise and meditation is one thing, but nothing can compare with this year to further my lessons in this pursuit. May I take the lesson with me into years to come.

9. Zoom...yes, of course I have zoom fatigue. But five friends in five different states having a monthly drink together on zoom is a benefit of the pandemic. I watched a movie this year with someone who lives in Brazil. I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth person even though I couldn’t be with her. I’ve attended book discussions and readings in New York and I already have tickets to an event in March. Kind of love New York. I’ve never been there in person. Just a lot happens there. Educationally and socially the world is now open to me. I am not limited to what is going on in my community. I hope this doesn’t completely go away.

10. Finally, storytelling and music. I found it hard to read new things in the lockdown for a while, but in March friends asked me to a virtual book club of three books I already read and we reread them together which took us into the summer. I rediscovered the Foundation series of Asimov and suddenly I could read again! My favorite book I’ve read published in 2020 is Jess Walter’s The Cold Million. I did read a digital advance copy of David Duchovny’snew book due out in 2021 and it is, in fact, the breakout novel I knew this hot young writer would eventually write. Looking forward to 2021 book club! I finally binged Breaking Bad and The Travelers as well as The Queens gambit and watched Peanut Butter Falcon. I am doing a disability focused watch on the X Files and I better kick it it the rear because I’m presenting on it in Feb. at a conference. My God, Dylan put out his first original music in eight years. It will take me eight years to fully ingest it and enjoy it. You see, no matter what happens, humanity will tell its stories and gather to make its songs. It’s that human resilience. Creation of art is not trivial. It’s vital. It has continued in this odd and strange year. It is humanity’s greatest gift and I have definitely used it this year as a resilience and growth tool.

Those are my top blessings in this horrific and, yet, wondrous year. However, you have been impacted, what we all share in common is that In a very short time it will be a memory of a year in the past.

[kali-tmblr]

Eric J. Shelton/Mississippi Today

Ricky Ball family receives narrow explanation from attorney general’s office for dropped manslaughter charge

A lawyer with the state attorney general’s office omitted key evidence in a meeting with the family of Ricky Ball, who was shot and killed in 2015 by Canyon Boykin.

This story was published in partnership with The Appeal.

BY KO BRAGG AND JUSTIN BROOKS, THE APPEAL | JUNE 17, 2020

In a meeting with the family of Ricky Ball, a Black man shot and killed by a white police officer, a lawyer with the Mississippi attorney general’s office said the office could not pursue a manslaughter case against the officer. But the lawyer, Michael Ward, narrowly interpreted or omitted the state’s evidence, and called the case “troubling.” 

In audio recorded on May 28 and obtained by The Appeal, Ward tells Ball’s mother and aunt that if the case had gone to trial, statements from Mississippi Bureau of Investigation (MBI) officers and the state medical examiner’s report would lead the jury to conclude that Canyon Boykin, who was fired from the Columbus Police Department two weeks after the shooting, was justified when he shot Ball in October 2015. A June 4 report from the attorney general’s office, detailing why it dropped the case, gives the same reasoning.

But Ward, who said he spent two weeks looking into the case for Attorney General Lynn Fitch, casts doubt on Boykin’s integrity as an officer. He also acknowledges that Boykin and Ball had “previous run-ins” and that “there were racial issues” involved. 

“Officer Boykin in my opinion is not a star officer,” Ward said on the recording.  “This case is really troubling.” 

Neither Ward nor a spokesperson for Fitch’s office responded to The Appeal’s requests for comment.

Elizabeth Ball Cockrell, Ball’s aunt who says she identified her nephew’s body after the shooting, told The Appeal she felt as though Ward was not working on the family’s behalf. 

“I feel like he was more paving a clearance for Officer Boykin to walk away scot-free,” she said in a phone interview.  

Fitch dropped the manslaughter charge against Boykin in late May, and at her request, a local judge dismissed the case with prejudice, meaning the case cannot be brought back to court on the same grounds. 

“It’s a systematic issue, our inability to have these officer-involved shooting cases handled appropriately,” said Scott Colom, district attorney for the 16th District, which includes Columbus. He recently made public some of the case files from the attorney general’s office. 

Boykin’s indictment, he said, “represented the voice of the community.” But “then you have a dismissal with very little explanation … and there’s evidence that supported the indictment that was not mentioned in the dismissal,” he said. “It’s why there is so much distrust in our criminal justice system.”  

The shooting

Around 10 p.m. on October 16, 2015, three members of Columbus Police Department’s Special Operations Group—Boykin, Officer Johnny “Max” Branch, and Officer Yolanda Young were doing an unapproved ride-along with Boykin’s fiance, Alisa Stanford, in an unmarked Crown Victoria.

Young said in sworn testimony she observed that a license plate light was out on a Grand Marquis, and Branch, who was driving, followed it before turning on the police lights. Shannon Brewer, who was driving the Marquis with Ball seated on the passenger side, didn’t immediately pull over and later explained to investigators that Ball panicked, grabbed her wheel and said that he was “dirty.”

Branch got on Boykin’s radio and called in the traffic stop. “We got one failing to stop,” he said.

Young said Brewer drove over a speed bump, and Ball jumped out of the car. Boykin exited his vehicle and ran after Ball. While Boykin pursued Ball, Young handcuffed Brewer, and hugged and comforted Stanford, Young said in sworn testimony.

Boykin said he shouted for Ball to stop and deployed his Taser, and Ball fell to the ground. Boykin approached Ball—whose body he later told MBI investigators, was “locked up from the taser”— and saw a gun in Ball’s hands. Boykin said he then yelled “gun” twice. Boykin told investigators he never yelled out any command for Ball to drop the gun he said he saw.  

Boykin dropped his Taser and “transitioned to his firearm,” he said. “I did feel threatened, and that’s why I drew my weapon,” Boykin told investigators five days after the shooting. “I did—I did point it at him. I didn’t fire until I seen—when I seen him turn, that’s when I felt the full threat.”

Young said Boykin ran away from Ball in a semicircle to get out of the direct line of fire, per his training. Ball then got up and ran, Boykin later told MBI investigators. Boykin said that after Ball ran about 20 to 25 yards, he saw Ball slow down and raise his right arm as if to shoot him. Boykin fired nine rounds; one bullet struck Ball in the right hip and another struck a critical artery in his right arm. Only about 13 seconds elapsed between Branch’s radio call about Brewer failing to stop and Branch reporting shots had been fired, radio traffic recordings show.

Boykin told the MBI that after he shot Ball, Ball got up and jumped a ditch.

None of the officers’ body cameras were active during the encounter leading up to or during the shooting. Boykin activated his camera only after the fatal shooting. 

According to the bodycam footage obtained by The Appeal, Boykin says to other officers arriving at the scene, “Oh, fuck. He fucking pulled a gun on me, dude. … There’s his blood right there,” and points to the ground. “He’s hit bad on the right side.”

Officer Christian Benton’s body camera picks up someone yelling for help. Officers find Ball, one-tenth of a mile away from the traffic stop, lying on his back between two houses, his shirt drenched with blood.

Officers shout “show me your hands!” and “get your hands up!” as they approach Ball with their weapons drawn. Officers are heard saying they spot a gun near Ball and drag his body by the leg away from it. Later, in a statement to investigators, Officer Garrett Mittan, who responded to the scene, said officers pulled Ball away from the gun after they realized he was unresponsive.

The gun found near Ball was the same weapon Mittan reported stolen from his home on August 5, 2015, according to a report from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.  A wrongful death suit on behalf of Ball accused Mittan of planting the weapon at the scene. The city of Columbus settled the suit with Ball’s family for an undisclosed amount in 2018.

Bodycam footage then shows officers finding “dope” in the cinderblocks of the home where Ball hid; an MBI report states that a Taurus 9 mm pistol and marijuana were found there. 

As Ball writhes on the ground, Benton runs to get purple gloves, then comes back to handcuff Ball’s wrists. “Stop moving. I can’t help you if you keep moving, quit it,” he says as he locks the cuffs above Ball’s head. Officers stand around Ball’s body, shining their flashlights on him as EMTs tend to his injuries. 

Bodycam footage from inside the ambulance shows a female EMT attempting to resuscitate Ball. Someone is heard saying “no pulse” before the video cuts off. Ball was pronounced dead at 11:12 p.mat Baptist Memorial Hospital-Golden Triangle, just an hour after the traffic stop. 

In a June 2018 deposition for a civil matter related to the shooting, Jeff Reynolds, one of Boykin’s attorneys, asked then deputy chief medical examiner Lisa Funte about the likelihood of survival if “Ball had given up sooner.”

“It’s possible he may have still died even if he had received timely medical intervention,” Funte replied. “But he would have had a much greater chance of survival with immediate medical attention.” 

After the city fired Boykin, he sued, claiming that he was fired unjustly because of “uninformed public pressure,” according to the lawsuit. The city settled with Boykin in 2017 for an undisclosed amount.

Colom, the district attorney, transferred the case to the attorney general’s office in July 2016,  when Democrat Jim Hood was still in office. A Lowndes County grand jury indicted Boykin in September 2016, and Fitch inherited the case when she took office in January. 

‘Previous run-ins’  

In the May audio, Ward says to the Ball family that he was aware Ball and Boykin had “previous run-ins” and that there “was a history” between the two of them. But the attorney general’s report discounts statements from Ball’s former girlfriend and family friend that suggest Boykin may have targeted Ball.

Aunnaray Leech, a friend of the Ball family, told investigators that Boykin was aggressive toward Ball in the past. And Dominique Cotton, Ball’s former girlfriend, told investigators that Boykin was harassing Ball in the weeks leading up to the shooting, particularly after Ball fled from Boykin during a traffic stop months before. 

On Aug. 26, 2015, Boykin and Branch attempted to pull Ball over. He was driving a blue Hyundai with Laura Hines, a white woman and step-cousin to Boykin. Ball refused to pull over and led Boykin and Branch on a chase through Columbus. The officers lost the vehicle for several minutes. When they finally located Hines, Ball was nowhere to be found. Hines told Boykin she had been riding with Ball.

As they were pursuing Ball’s car, Boykin said to Branch, “I’m going to snatch her out the car, snatch him out the car,” according to body camera footage. “You going to whoop his ass?” Branch asked Boykin. “He was going to jail no matter what,” Boykin says. “No matter what he was going to jail today. … If i get my fucking hands on him, fucking moolie, goddamnit, motherfucker.”

Moolie is an Italian slur against Black people. Boykin’s counsel rejected the transcription of the audio recording, saying Boykin instead said “bully” and does not know what “moolie” means.

A local judge ruled in August 2017 that the video would be admissible at trial to help “establish the defendant’s state of mind” during the shooting.

‘Very strange situation’

Ball’s family raised questions in the meeting with Ward about the gun that police say they found at the scene of the shooting. Ward replied, “It was stolen in August and found there in the cinder blocks. Very strange situation.” 

In a June 2018 deposition for a civil case against Boykin, an officer with the MBI said Ball’s fingerprints were not on the gun found at the scene, there were discrepancies in the Taser log, and he had no opinion about whether Boykin was justified in shooting Ball. 

When Funte, the deputy chief medical examiner, sat for a deposition in 2018, she said that the amount of pain Ball was in may have caused him to drop the gun in question. 

“He would still have the ability to grip things,” Funte said. “Pain, again, is going to cause you to attend to the pain. So, he’s holding something, he may drop it, but it’s still possible for him to continue to grip it. … It’s also possible that when he gets shot, the impact of the bullet, itself, may cause him to drop or release his grip on the gun on anything he’s carrying.”

Ward told Ball’s family that he asked Boykin to take a polygraph because “there was a lot of issues involved” in the case. The report from the attorney general’s office notes that Boykin took the polygraph and “was found to be truthful in his answers concerning this case that supported his claim of self-defense.”

Ward acknowledged to the family that “polygraphs are not admissible in court, they’re not 100 percent sure.” 

‘Overwhelming evidence’

Ward told the Ball family that Funte agreed with Boykin’s version of what happened. But neither he nor the attorney general’s report acknowledge the clarifications Funte made to her original statement. 

The report cites Funte’s February 2017 affidavit as evidence that Ball was shot while raising a pistol, as Boykin claimed. “Notably this is contrary to social media postings contained in the case file claiming Mr. Ball was shot in the back,” the report reads, referencing posts on YouTube in the aftermath of the shooting. 

But in a declaration, filed with the court a year after her affidavit, Funte said that both bullets entered Ball “from back to front.” She also clarified that her affidavit addressed one specific possibility and was not intended to address all of the “potential possibilities regarding the position of Mr. Ball when he was shot.” Funte said Ball could have either been turning to shoot Boykin with a gun in his hand when he was shot or Ball could have been running and pumping his arms when he got shot. 

The attorney said he could not share Funte’s reports with the family because it was part of the attorney general’s office’s investigation. However, The Appeal obtained her entire autopsy report, including photographs of Ball’s body, from public court records at the Lowndes County Courthouse. 

Fitch’s office also based its decision to dismiss the case on a report from Charles Wetli, a forensic pathologist hired as an expert witness by the attorney general. Wetli reviewed Funte’s autopsy report and 2017 affidavit, Boykin’s indictment, and photographs of Ball’s autopsy and photos from the scene of the incident and concluded in his August 2017 report that “Mr. Ball was not shot from behind.”

Wetli coined the term “excited delirium,” a condition of agitation or acute distress often caused by drugs or electric shock from a Taser that could cause sudden death. It is not recognized by the American Medical Association, the American Psychiatric Association, or the World Health Organization. 

Legal experts say the defense for Officer Derek Chauvin—who kneeled on George Floyd’s neck last month until he died—may hinge on the same controversial condition, despite Floyd’s autopsy proving otherwise. 

‘We’re limited by the cards we have’ 

Ward also told the Ball family that the office dropped its indictment against Boykin because of the Weathersby rule—a state Supreme Court precedent that says if the defendant is the sole eyewitness, a jury would have to believe the defendant’s testimony, barring substantial evidence to rebut or contradict their account. The jury would have to accept Boykin’s version of what happened unless “we can present credible evidence to rebut it,” Ward said. 

“We’re limited by the cards we have to get a conviction,” Ward said. “And we can’t go in hoping we’re going to get a biased jury and try to throw some darts and hope for a conviction. But this is absolutely not an exoneration of Boykin whatsoever. I want y’all to understand that.”

In January 2019, Boykin’s defense attorneys used the same argument in an attempt to get the state to drop the case. “It should be required to (dismiss this case) not only to end Officer Boykin’s nightmare, but also to save the State the needless waste of taxpayer resources and the court’s time in trying a case which the State knows cannot be successful,” the motion reads. 

In response to Boykin’s motion, then assistant attorney general Stanley Alexander argued against this reliance on Weathersby. “Weathersby is only to be applied at the completion of the state’s case and then if only the defendant’s account of the crime is not contradicted. … The argument is simply premature at this time,” Alexander wrote in February 2019. Fitch fired Alexander in January and has since let go of other assistant attorneys general from the previous administration. Alexander declined to comment. 

Protesters demand answers

The decision to dismiss the case sparked protests outside Fitch’s office in Jackson on June 5. According to Mississippi Today, a group of about 150 people shouted, “No free kill” and protesters tried to hand deliver a letter to Fitch, demanding to know the evidence her office considered in dropping the charges against Boykin. The Clarion-Ledger reported that the letter eventually made it to her office.  

Colom, the district attorney, told the Appeal in a June 1 phone interview that he regrets transferring the case to the attorney general’s office: “Had I known that [the attorney general] would dismiss the case this way at a period in time when we’re having a national reckoning, a national crisis around African Americans and police brutality … I would not have transferred it.”

Ball Cockrell, Ricky Ball’s aunt who was in the meeting, told The Appeal she wanted this case to go to trial, and following the meeting with Ward, she didn’t feel like his reasoning for dropping the case made sense to her. 

“I’m not a lawyer, but it was just so many things that didn’t have a clear answer,” she said. 

Throughout the audio, Ward drew comparisons between himself and the Ball family: Ward said he was also a Christian, has a son Ricky’s age, and that he knew how hurt the Ball family was since he lost his best friend three years ago. 

Toward the end of the meeting, Ball’s mother, Angela, got emotional. 

“Here I am 52 raising a 7-year-old,” she said of Ball’s daughter, Makayla Hendricks, who joined the protests outside Fitch’s office. 

“[Ward] said this doesn’t exonerate Boykin and he stayed up so many sleepless nights … but you don’t tell us what kept you up at night worried about this case? I didn’t walk out of that meeting feeling good.” 

Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.

[gallantgautier]

That Gautier Family Meta That No One Asked For

I’ve been thinking about the Gautier Family on and off for the last few weeks. Dribs and drabs of little details that slowly but surely have been coming together into something cohesive. Today I wanted to spend some time collecting all of those headcanons together to give myself a nice little piece to refer back to, and maybe some fun reading for others. As always, I welcome any and all questions!

Margave Gullan Adán Gautier

Naming Inspirations

“Gullan”

as a boys' name is of Old Norse derivation, and the meaning of the name Gullan is "battler, warrior". Gullan is an alternate form of Gunnar (Old Norse): from Old Norse gunnr "strife". Going with Rai’s Headcanon that the Fraldarius territory is loosely based upon Norway (albeit only geographically,) I looked to Scandinavian names for Sylvain’s father, as well as keeping similar “ahn” sounds at the end of the name. (It’s worth noting that “Sylvain’s” name in localisation fits better due to the inspirations for his name. However, in other languages his name is actually pronounced more like Sil-vahn. Just a fun tidbit)

 Another reason for my name choice comes from; “The surname Gullan was first found in East Lothian, where they held a family seat on the English/Scottish border. After the Norman Conquest of England many of Duke William's rebellious Barons moved north. The border became a convenient but turbulent no-man's land where the persecuted Many were given land by King Malcolm Canmore and later by King David of Scotland. Some were native Scots. In the 16th century they became known as the 'unruly clans'. The name was first recorded in Scotland in Gullen in the parish of Dirleton in East Lothian.”

“Adán”

Quite simply, the Spanish form of Adam. As I mentioned briefly in another post of Sylvain’s middle name being that of a biblical figure and translated into its Spanish form, Gullan’s follows that trend.

 Personality

On the surface, Gullan is a seemingly cold man who never says more than is necessary. Each and every one of his words has purpose and motive, and he is not the type to lay praise on thick unless it’s either warranted, or strategic.

His purpose is to defend the border, a task he takes so seriously that his devotion to it can often come across as boastful. There are likely those who believe he ‘showcases’ the worth of his house, ever eager to ‘prove House Gautier’s usefulness.’ And indeed, Gullan is happy to allow that attitude to continue rather than spend time attempting to change minds that can instead be spent ensuring his troops are ever ready for another assault from Sreng.

Much like his youngest son, Gullan has a tendency to put up a front, to be as unshakable as the border defences. While this serves his purpose well at official business, war councils and formal functions, it does hurt his ability to be a father. This trait runs so deeply that he always put his duty before his family, which extends to ensuring his son can take up the mantle after him, and thus his reliance on his family Crest. (See “Crest of Gautier, Lance of Ruin and other details” further below.)

 Margravine Eloise Ambre Gautier

Naming Inspirations

I didn’t think too deeply about choosing this name. I just like it. Sue me.

Personality/details of note

Eloise is a person of striking contrast to her husband. She is softly spoken, warm and kind-hearted. That said, in regard to her family and the expectations placed upon them, she often finds her hands tied in what she can actually do for her children. She would have loved nothing more than to coddle them but knew that would only harm them in the long run.

Eloise’s health has never been the greatest, little energy and of low appetite. Pregnancy and childbirth were great ordeals for her, which is why they stopped having children after Sylvain. A family that places such importance on passing on their Crest wouldn’t reasonably – I believe – stop at only one.

 Miklan Anschutz Gautier

Naming Inspirations

“Miklan”

Sadly, after much googling, I can’t find anything. This appears to just be a case of “let’s make a name similar to yet distinct from his brother” style of name choice.

“Anschutz”

Not to copy paste some previous things I talked about but “North German (Anschütz): occupational name for someone whose job was to keep a dam or pool filled with water (German anschützen ‘to fill up’), especially a dam above a water channel serving a mill or mine.” TL;DR: He’s a placeholder.

Personality/details of note

Long story short, Miklan was a monster before he got his hands upon the Lance of Ruin.

Short story lengthened; Miklan is a jealous, entitled person without much in the way of a moral compass. There is only one reason he hates his brother, the fact that Sylvain has a Crest and he does not. Children of noble families are tested upon birth to see if they bare one, at least, that’s what Sylvain tells us. It’s possible that only his family does this, and he believes all families are like that, or that some or many families do that, but not all. Still, it’s reasonable to believe that at least House Gautier tests their children for Crest Inheritance at birth.

What kind of person hates a baby? Enough to want them dead and even attempt to kill them himself? Someone who lacks a moral compass.

On that same train of thought, Miklan was disinherited (not disowned) only three years prior to the events of the game. This means that, while he would never be the head of House, he was still in line to inherit something. Perhaps not lands and prestige, but he would have been able to live comfortably. He would have this regardless of being Crestless, and yet, the fact that he wouldn’t have everything is enough to drive him to multiple attempts to murder his brother. It’s difficult to think that this man has any redeeming qualities, considering that fact.

 Sylvain Jose Gautier

Information regarding the origins of Sylvain’s name and its meanings are all over both the wiki and this blog, as is the case with aspects of his personality, so I’m not going to get too into detail about those. Instead, I’m just going to list some fun tibits about his early life.

As a very young child, Sylvain was actually very shy, he was often found hiding behind his mother’s skirts. He didn’t like the way people would look at him, though at the time he didn’t understand it was because of his Crest. It was largely Glenn’s encouragement that got him out of his shell.

 For a long time, he didn’t really know how food worked. That is, he thought all you had to do was place the ingredients in a bowl, put it in the oven, and five minutes later, out comes food. The kitchen staff once caught him trying to place a glass bowl full of flour, too much sugar, an entire stick of butter and three whole eggs (yes, whole, 100% intact) into the oven. He wanted to make a cake for his mother’s birthday.

As seen in Etude and Learning the Melody, Sylvain took piano lessons as a child and had no small amount of talent for it. He gave it up though, believing his family’s encouragement came only from a place of wanting him to have whatever he wants on account of his Crest and not from a place of love.

 Crest of Gautier and the Lance of Ruin

The Crest

Crests are often seen as a status symbol in Fódlan, and it would be reasonable to think that House Gautier is of the same opinion. This is an attitude that Gullan perpetrates in order to secure a successful marriage for his son to pass on his Crest. In truth, however, the importance of the Crest of Gautier is solely to ensure that the Lance of Ruin can continue to be wielded.

Lance of Ruin

Heroes Relics are weapons of incredible power, and the Lance has been used to defend the border with Sreng. The reliance on the weapon to do the task stems from how the Lance has likely become a symbol of ruin to the Srengi people. In fact, the question has been asked; “Why is it that all the Relics have actual names like Areadbhar and Failnaught, and yet only two are Sword of the Creator and Lance of Ruin?” While I cannot speak for the Sword, I believe that the Lance once had a name that was slowly lost to time, gaining its new moniker some years after the formation of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus when it was brought to bear against Sreng.

[tanadrin]

Of Things Remembered

“Wake up.”

The scene around me swam and reformed itself as the young man opened his eyes. The generic room was replaced by a modest stone cell. A little table appeared in the corner, where one dim candle flickered, casting a dim light over a couple of books and some parchment. An evening chill swept in from the narrow window that appeared, and outside I could see the stars, undimmed by any city lights or orbitals. I switched over to the full baseline human sense-simulation, and inhaled slowly. The evening air was fragrant and damp, like a rainstorm had just passed. Through the door I could hear voices far down the hall, rising and falling together, perhaps in prayer.

"Everything is fine, but you need to wake up.” He seemed to be more alert now; his eyes were searching about the room; he was confused, but calm. When his gaze finally came to rest on me, he looked me up and down for a long time before he said anything. I glanced down at myself to make sure my appearance wasn’t too unusual. I fit into the room, now: I was dressed in plain homespun cloth, with simple leather slippers, and my hair hung loosely around my ears.

“Are you all right?” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think so. I must have been… sleeping very deeply. Dreaming about something. But I can’t remember what.”

“The deepest of sleep. And I’m sorry to wake you from a well-deserved rest, but we needed to have a conversation. I’m Nolla.”

“Will,” he said. “The brothers call me Long Will, on account of my height.” He turned one ear toward the door. “Shouldn’t we be at matins?”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment,” I said. “We have more important matters to attend to.”

Skipping prayers didn’t seem to sit well with him, but he didn’t object. He sat up and looked at me more closely. I turned to the little table and picked up his candle, holding it my lap so he could see better.

“I don’t think I know you,” he said. “Are you one of the novices?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just a friend. A guide. I’m here to help you through a difficult transition.”

Will furrowed his brow. “What sort of transition?”

“We’ll get to that. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Yesterday, I was…” His voice trailed off. “Funny. I don’t remember what I was doing yesterday. Or the day before that.”

“What do you remember?”

“That I should be at matins. That the abbot gets quite cross with lazy brothers. I spend most of my time when I’m not at prayer copying the books, and helping Brother Stephen in the kitchen. But I’m looking forward to summer. It does me good to spend some time outdoors, helping with the planting. I… I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit foggy.”

“You’ve been asleep for a very long time. It’s quite natural. I just want to make sure you’re feeling all right.”

“Are you a doctor? Have I been ill?”

“In a manner of speaking. Tell me about specific events you remember. Start with your life just before you came to the monastery.”

“Well, I’m from the village originally. My parents suggested the religious life, and it always felt right to me. I remember leaving home, coming to live here as a novice. I remember being nervous, meeting the abbot for the first time. Learning to read and write. I remember… I remember the time Brother Laurence and I got lost in the woods, and we were terribly worried, and tired and hungry, but Brother Hugh found us. We laughed about it later, how stupid we had been. It feels like it was a long time ago, but for the life of me I can’t say when. I suppose it could have been just yesterday.”

“It was a long time ago,” I said. “All these things were.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“More than ten thousand years,” I said gently.

Will smiled, then laughed. “Oh, you’re very funny.”

I shook my head. “I’m quite serious.”

“Yes, long enough for everything in the world to pass away and to start over from the beginning, so it’s exactly as I left it.”

“It isn’t, Will,” I said. “This, everything you see around you, is an illusion for your benefit.”

I let the simulation flicker, just for a second; I didn’t want to scare him, but I wanted to show him I wasn’t lying. For just a moment the walls and the table and the bed under him disappeared, and the dark hills and the stars and the moon beyond were visible where the cell had been; and then they were back, as solid as they had been before. Will’s face went deadly serious.

“Is this heaven or hell, then?” he said.

“Neither. You’re not dead. Not anymore. You don’t have to be afraid; nothing’s going to hurt you or cause you pain. I’m sorry for the deception, but we wanted you to wake up in a place that would be somewhat familiar to you, to make sure you felt at ease.”

Will ran his hands over the blanket, and the wall beside his bed; he rubbed his fingertips together, staring at them intently.

“All this feels very real,” he said.

“The mind is a powerful thing,” I said. “Yours is in a kind of in-between state right now. A place where we can take your memories and the sensations you know and show them to you in great detail. And where our illusion might be imperfect or incorrect, your mind will supply the little details and corrections needed to make it feel solid and consistent. But please believe me: we have no malice in our hearts. All this is for your benefit.”

“I believe you,” Will said. “Or I would like to, which maybe amounts to the same thing.”

I smiled and nodded. “Very good. Then we have overcome our first hurdle.”

“What… what has happened to me?”

I took a deep breath. “Will Long of Hythe, in Kent. You were born sometime in the late thirteenth century A.D., you died of natural causes, an old and well-respected man, abbot of this monastery, in 1334. You spent your life as a monk, serving God and your community, and because of your reputation and your position, you were remembered long enough for your name to enter the local histories, along with a few lines of your biography. You took to poetry later in life, and composed several hymns, and a few fables based on local legend. Most of the manuscripts that contained copies of your work were lost in the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century, but twelve manuscript folio, on which you were named as the author of the verses contained therein, were discovered deep in a London archive almost six hundred years later. These were the basis of an influential study of your life and work, about half solid historical investigation and about half clever speculation, by a PhD candidate--a doctor of philosophy in training, that is--in 2135. We used that study as the starting point for bringing you back.”

“You said I wasn’t dead.”

“You are speaking to me now. You hear me speak to you. You are sensing, thinking, feeling. Yes, you are not dead.”

“But I died. Long, long ago.”

“Yes. You did.”

“And you brought me back? That’s not possible.”

“Debatable,” I said. “By which I mean, we do debate it. Some would say, you are not Will Long. Will Long ceased to be when his heart stopped beating and his eyes were closed and he was laid to rest beneath the earth; and you are a new person, with the same name, and many of the same memories and thoughts and feelings. And some would say, it is the pattern that makes a man who he is. That just as if you take a tapestry and pick it apart into individual threads, if you weave it back together again, is not the same image? What if you replace one thread? One hundred threads? One thousand? And there are others who grant that while you may not have to use the same threads, if you make any error at all in the weaving-together, it is a different image. To which I say, does it matter, if it looks the same to the observer?”

Will closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “You’re talking in riddles. I need specifics. What did you do? How did you make this? Make… me?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I will try to explain this as succinctly and accurately as I can, but your language lacks many of the words I need, because your world lacked many of the things we used, and the words to describe them. But our methods are all the methods of the natural world, all the methods of good and honest philosophy, all knowable to a man like you if he has enough learning.

“There are methods of mathematics, like the algebra of the east, but much more sophisticated, by which one can infer missing quantities among vast collections of information. Some of these are very precise; some of these cannot produce precise knowledge, but only approximate knowledge--yet often that approximate knowledge can, by successive application of different methods, be narrowed to a very small range. As though,” and I gestured now at the books on the table, “you open a manuscript to find one word blotted out; yet if it is short, and begins ‘th-’ you know it is ‘the’ or ‘thee’ or ‘thou,’ and not ‘through’ or ‘thorough.’ Or as though a line is missing from a piece of poetry; and while two other copies agree on what the missing line is, a third disagrees--but you judge the two that agree are more likely to be correct.

“And these mathematics are so complicated and so difficult that a whole city of human calculators might work for centuries and accomplish but a small piece of a modest puzzle to which they are applied. But in the many centuries after your death, we have developed tools to aid us. First, they were based on the same principles which drive clockwork, like more sophisticated clocks capable of performing arithmetic quickly, by the means of levers and gears. The same machines, using the same principles, were made more sophisticated and swifter in their operation over time--and eventually we stopped using clockwork, and started using other physical principles to operate them. But the underlying logic of their design was the same. Though they appeared as though they could perform wondrous feats that had nothing to do with mere mathematics, mere mathematics was the foundational principle of their operation; and they could accomplish no wonder that could not in some sense be reduced to a question of numbers and the operations of numbers.”

“I am afraid I don’t know much about mathematics,” Will said. “All this sounds quite fanciful to me.”

“Then let us speak of words--for it was another insight of later days that mathematics is not so different from language, and the philosophers of those days used one word to unite the two, the word ‘information.’ The theory of information was found to be a useful tool for examining the natural world, just as you might use your eyes or your ears, or, in dark places, search instead with your hands. And using the tools provided by the theory of information, we came to believe our ability to recover things that were lost now extended to the memories and feelings and thoughts of those who had long been dead. Especially those who had left some testimony of themselves behind. And we hoped, maybe--perhaps an arrogant hope, I admit--that by the application of these techniques to recover lost lives, we might from the shape of those lost lives then discern the shapes of other lives, previously invisible to us, and recover those as well--and so on and so forth. And that therefore we might hope one day to return to life all those who had ever lived and died, to rescue them from their long sleep.”

Will laughed. “Are you so impatient for the day of judgement?”

I smiled. “Nothing like that, I assure you. We don’t judge, Will. We don’t condemn. We don’t pick and choose, either. We intend to resurrect the good and the bad alike. The deserving and the undeserving. Those great and those petty, those high-minded and those mean. Our labor, which we grant might never be completed, is not to play God, and to ensure each man receives his deserved fate, but only to redeem. Without preference or favor. There is only one restriction we place on ourselves.

“And what’s that?”

“We don’t bring back people who, according to our reconstruction, would prefer not to exist. There are some who suffered greatly before their death, whose suffering can be amended, whose hearts can be made whole. But there are some who, we know, prefer to sleep. We study them, to understand them, but we do not bring them unwilling back into the world. That would be a great cruelty. We create--or recreate--no life which would, we think, prefer not to exist. And for those about whom we are uncertain, we bring them back only long enough to ask them. Which is why you are here.”

Will looked surprised at this. “If you have such power over life and death, why not make everyone want to live?”

“Because then they wouldn’t be themselves.”

“But you don’t know that they’re themselves. You don’t even know for sure that you’re not just… writing new books. Writing new stories, weaving new tapestries, that have nothing to do with the old ones. If your machines are wrong, if your philosophy in error, perhaps you are only raising up new ghosts who remember a fiction.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Would you like to know my thoughts on the matter?”

“Certainly.”

“Then I believe this: that it doesn’t matter. If you are exactly like Will Long of Kent in every particular, it may even be that our philosophy is in complete error and that there is some vital spark, some privileged point of view, which the old Will Long bore in himself and which was extinguished on his death; and that any vital spark you possessed, any point of view you hold, is but another very like it. Yet please believe me when I say that there are very good reasons to believe that that is not the case, reasons which are not beyond your capacity for understanding, but which nevertheless are beyond the learning you possess right now.

“Yet even if it is not so--that you are unlike Will Long in some little particular, or unlike him in very great ways, such that you are simply a new person who shares his name and is inclined to produce poetry in a similar style--you nonetheless think and feel and act according to your own preferences and desires, and that we must respect those preferences and desires. And to wantonly interfere with them--to insist that every soul we call forth must share our preference for existing, and our view of the world--would indeed be arrogance. You might not be the old Will Long, but you are a Will Long, and worthy of our respect.”

This seemed to satisfy him. “But have you never found your mathematics to be in error? Have you never had to revise them? Does this never change how you might weave the threads together?”

“It can happen,” I said. “We do not need to bring forth the soul entirely to understand it; they can be studied while they sleep. But those of us who do guide the souls we call forth have a pragmatic view of things. Were we to discover, say, some new poem of Will Long’s, we would incorporate that into what we knew about you. If it only changed our view of you a little, it would hardly be worth recreating you. Though we might ask you if you wanted that knowledge incorporated into yourself, which we could do. But if it changed how we understood you drastically, it might be worth it to create another Will Long. But that would have no affect on you. The world is very wide now. There is space for many people like you, and each adds their own particular distinction and joy to it.

“But this rarely happens. We have long since ceased to die of mere old age; the world is full of what would seem to you like miracles. And for thousands of years before the calling-forth of souls began, we were laying the groundwork for the great project, studying history in every minutia, compiling great libraries of information, libraries greater than any you have imagined. It is not impossible that we might discover some new information we have long overlooked, but it is a rare thing. Though I cannot say it is impossible.”

“And you want to know if I… accept this?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know my answer?”

“It was one of the very few things we could not determine in advance.”

Will was quiet for a long time.

“What happens if I say no?”

“You can lie down and go back to sleep. This strange little dream will fade. We’ll keep a record of you, and use it to help further our studies, but you’ll never be called forth again. We’ll never disturb or trouble you, and you can await the end of days, or whatever comes after, in a dreamless slumber.”

“And if I say yes?”

“Then you have another choice to make. What life do you want to live? You can stay here, in the place that was your home in life. Or you can step out into the world.”

“What’s it like out there?”

“It’s hard to explain. It would require a long, slow transition, unless you were very adamant about going out immediately; but I must warn you, others have done that, and found it very trying. The world is full of many wonderful things, but also many unfamiliar perils. You have little of the background knowledge required to understand it; and those who live there see things very differently than you do. But if you are curious and generous of spirit, you can adapt.

“We are all human out there, after our fashion, though we might not seem it at first. In some ways our various lineages long ago diverged, to say nothing of the ones, like mine, that began within the machines built to understand the universe. But we remain united by certain common sentiments and hopes which are not alien to you.”

“What if I wish to remain? What is this place, anyway?”

“An illusion of information. A kind of dream, perhaps, but one inhabited by very real people, like yourself. You can stay here, and we can give you a light and pleasant dream of your life forever, if you want. Or we can link your simulation to the simulations of others like you, so that you are not alone.”

“How long have I to decide?”

“As long as you like. There’s no hurry.”

“That’s a relief.”

He looked out the window at the stars.

“Tell me, if you know. I have always wondered. What are those, anyway, out there in the sky? What are they made of?”

“They are suns like our own. Immense lights that warm distant worlds.”

“Have you visited those lights and those worlds?”

I smiled. “We have. Truth be told, you are around one now. The machines that support you here, in this state, hang high in the sky above one we call Van Maanen’s Star.”

“How far away is England?”

“About eighty-two thousands of a thousand of a thousand of a thousand miles.”

“Could… could I go back if I wished? As myself?”

“Of course. It would be a long journey, but by no means impossible. But Kent is very different now than when you left it.”

“Could I visit other worlds?”

“You certainly could. There are enough peopled worlds that you could spend the rest of your life visiting them.”

“And how long will that be? How long is the rest of my life, if I say yes?”

I shrugged. “If you avoid sudden misfortune, or if you choose to make copies of yourself as some do, you can reasonably expect that you, or a Will Long very much like you, will live to see the youngest stars that now blaze grow old and lonely in the sky. Which would be a very, very long time from now.”

Will stared out the window for several minutes; I did not interrupt his reverie. This was a conversation I had had many times; it was never quite the same, except that this moment usually came sooner or later. Sometimes it lasted hours. Sometimes it lasted years. I was happy to wait. But Will’s answer came astonishingly quickly.

“I’ve made my decision.” There was a bright, joyful gleam in his eyes.

“Very well. What have you decided?”

He pointed out the window. “I want to go out there. I don’t want to wait. I want to see what’s changed. I want to understand this strange world you have spoken of to me. And maybe to write new lines on what I see.”

“Then so it shall be. And many will be glad to hear this happy news.”

I stood, and drew back the sleeve of my robe, and stretched my hand out. “Come, Will. Take my hand.”

Will’s hand grasped mine, and I pulled him up, up out of the bed, and out of the room we were in, and out of the cool, clear evening that surrounded it; like swimmers rising to the surface, we rose up into the warmth and light beyond.

[7-obsessions]

Chooser of the Slain

October 16th, 1998

It’s hard to identify when and in what order things occurred in my life. I think I have most of the memories, but it’s like somebody dumped all of them into a bowl and whisked vigorously before pouring them back into my head. I only have bits and pieces connected so far, a giant puzzle of my own life, but none of the sides seem to match anymore. Sometimes I question if I contain other people’s puzzles in my brain—it would explain why I can’t understand who I am…was.

I should probably be more concerned about the state of my mind than I am right now. It’s hard to be concerned about anything here though. I’m not sure where here is either…or how I got here…or when I came. It doesn’t really matter though. I like it here. I figure, with more time here I might begin to piece together some of the answers to my questions. All the same, if I can’t find answers, I don’t think I’d mind.

Guard talks to me. I haven’t really seen anyone else, but he speaks as if I will be meeting someone important soon. He never mentions names though. I’m vaguely aware of the fact that names should be important, but here everyone is referred to by what they do. Guard guards me. I don’t do anything yet, so he doesn’t really call me anything. He says he thinks I might get a title at some point in the near future. I wonder what my name used to be. I try to ask Guard his real name, or about what’s outside of this place, or if he used to exist in the world the same way that I think I did, but then he leaves my room and I no longer have anyone to talk to. I’ve mostly stopped bringing up stuff like that, I like talking to Guard.

Talking to Guard is one of the few things I do in this place. I have a decent sized room with a sinfully comfortable bed, a small table and bookshelves on the wall. Most of the books are written in languages I’ve never seen and cannot begin to comprehend. Yet, when I hold certain books, I get flashes of what I think are memories. Did I used to know these words? A few of the books I can read, but they are about things I don’t really understand at all. I still find myself reading them, because I have little else to do and they might be the only thing that brings me the answers I seek. Beyond the books, the room is basically barren, sterile. I’ve come to realize that the room is a scary metaphor of my life currently—filled with so much knowledge, but no understanding. Oh well, everything that goes through my brain gives me a headache most days, and I waste the days away by napping. I’ve adapted a routine of talking to Guard over meals, reading in between breakfast and lunch, and napping between lunch and dinner. I think I’d like to begin doing something more soon.

Today, Guard tells me I need to look nice and to watch my tongue. I don’t think I enjoy being told what to do, but he says it so desperately I wonder if there’s something I should be afraid of about this place. Nothing bad seems to happen here. Nothing at all seems to happen here. It’s nice, I’ve enjoyed it since I’ve been here. However, I feel the seed of restlessness beginning in the pit of my stomach. I begin to yearn for something more.

Guard exits my room after I finish breakfast and I go to search through the books for something I might be able to understand. Today a book near the bottom of one of the shelves catches my eye. It’s very plain and I don’t know why I am drawn to it, it’s a simple black leather-bound book with one barely noticeable rune etched into the spine. I pull it from the shelf and look at the cover; there is no title, but that same rune is etched onto the front as well. It feels warm in my hands and I can innately tell that there is something powerful about this book.

I open the cover and all that’s inside are blank pages. I flip through to see if there is anything written in here at all, but I am met with pristine, unblemished pages. I hold the book in my hands and one of my fingers absentmindedly traces the rune on the cover and the book grows warmer in my hands. Too warm. Hot. Searing.

“Hello, my daughter. It must finally be time.”

I heard a woman speaking, but the pain of holding the book was all I could focus on. I couldn’t seem to drop it, no matter how badly I wanted to. The voice seemed to reverberate in the room, it was more than an echo though…it was everywhere, but nowhere. The pain had spread to everywhere too. There was too much happening, I think I had collapsed onto the floor at some point.

“Help, please,” I managed to gasp out into the room. I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating the voice or not, but even if I was maybe Guard would hear me.

“Oh, my lost daughter. I shall do so much more than help. All of the pain, all of the questions, all of that confusion, all that and more will be cleared up. You will have a greater understanding than you can dream of. I only ask one thing of you, faith my daughter. You must have faith—in me and in yourself.”

“Who are you?” the more I listened to the voice, the less present I felt. I felt myself watching the scene unfold from somewhere outside of my body, the pain staying behind as well.

“Hm. That is a hard question to answer. Most just call me The Lady. You are born of me, in a manner of speaking. However, before I give you fuller answers, you must have faith. Do you have faith, dear child?”

“I don’t know what you are asking me to have faith in. I don’t know anything right now.”

“Faith does not require you to know, only to feel.”

The way this woman…or entity…spoke was odd, yes, but oddly comforting. I found myself pushing my confusion out of my head and trying to feel. I had stopped feeling the pain from holding the book, but I was still shrouded in warmth from it. It felt like holding a cup of hot tea, or reading my favorite book, finally completing something challenging, or sleeping in with nowhere to rush off to.

“I feel it,” I said.

“Yes, my child, I knew you would. I have waited for you for so long. You are home, my Valkyrie.”

October 16th, 2002

Hermione was smart enough to know that she should consider herself lucky, in fact, that’s probably what saved her, her intelligence.

The war had been over for four and a half years, but it felt like a lifetime ago. She’d spent nearly a whole year with Harry and Ron acting like superheroes, when really, they were just kids who’d never been told no, led by adults who let them finish battles they didn’t started. They never dreamed they could lose. They never imagined what life would be like if they lost. Or even what it would be like if they won.

That’s not entirely true. Hermione had thought about it every night as they slept in that tent, she just never shared her fears with Harry or Ron. Harry though that this was his battle and it didn’t affect anyone else, but he at least was born by magical blood. Ron was a pureblood, he never had to worry. Hermione, however, had too much to worry about. Still, for all her worrying, she never thought she’d end up here.

After Harry was defeated, she served a stint in Azkaban. She was in there for a year, before she was released and became what she is now—part spy, part slave, all traitor. It happened in the dead of night, she was released on the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Of all the people that could have come for her, Bellatrix Black, her torturer, showed up in her doorway. Hermione thought it was finally her time to die, never did she dream that it could be time for her to live and thrive again.

Now, here she was, Bellatrix’s secret informant. The public had been told she died in Azkaban from Dragonpox—nobody believed this of course, they thought she was killed to prove a point—nobody actually knew that she was alive except for Bellatrix, the unlucky few who ever saw her met a quick end. Voldemort suspected that she did not die, but could not confirm the truth. In the grand scheme of things, he cared very little for one missing or maybe dead Mudblood; he had far more crucial things to attend to while trying to run the Wizarding World. What he did care about what his missing Lieutenant, but she had been gone for three years and subtlety was not in her nature, so he had come to accept the fact that she was likely dead.  

Working together had been the oddest three years of Hermione’s life; at first she was terrified she was going to get tortured again, then Bellatrix and her had grown into a stilted camaraderie, now they were basically each other’s whole lives. Hermione knew that there was still something Bellatrix kept hidden, she never gave a full explanation on why she left Voldemort’s side and was actively plotting against him now. The best answer she got was that the Dark Lord lost sight of the ideals he claimed to fight for. But when pressed on how that led to Bella using Hermione as a spy, the answers shut down. It didn’t matter really, Bellatrix was different now and that was good enough for Hermione.

The last few weeks had been quiet, no major tasks to do, but Hermione felt a shift in the air. Something big was going to happen soon. Bellatrix had disappeared for a few days on some assignment, which was standard. But, this time when she left, she didn’t look dressed for battle, but dressed rather impressively regal.

Hermione was beginning to grow restless, pacing around the small unplottable, ever-changing location cabin. Her thoughts always drifted back to Bellatrix and how she had looked when she left three days ago. Was she actually on assignment or was she meeting somebody special? They weren’t supposed to have contact with anyone besides each other. As Hermione’s thoughts kept spiralling, she came to a horrible realization. She was jealous. But what exactly was she jealous of? Maybe it was just that she got to do something, while Hermione was going stir crazy. Or the fact that Bellatrix possibly had other people in her life, while Hermione had nobody else. It could be that Bellatrix had somebody to dress up for, while Hermione had nobody to do that for since her incredibly brief moment with Ron all those years ago. Dear Merlin, no, it couldn’t be that she wanted Bellatrix to dress that way for her—

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts when she heard the door slam and a frantic, “Hermione?” was heard from the hallway.

“Bellatrix, how was the assignment?”

“Listen we don’t have much time to talk, but I need you to change and come with me, hurry!”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Where are we going?” Hermione was becoming more frantic as she looked at Bella’s ashen face.

“I swear, you’ll have all the answers to all the questions you’ve been asking me for the past few years. But, I cannot be the one to give them to you. We have to meet The Lady and you must look respectable. Hermione, please, trust me.” Bellatrix pleading, that never happens, whatever was going on must be pretty serious.  

“Who’s The Lady—nevermind, it does matter because I do. I do trust you, Bella.”

Hermione dressed quickly in her nicest robes, which seemed lacking compared to Bellatrix’s ethereally beautiful, yet darkly alluring robes. She realized she had been staring at Bellatrix for too long, but when she finally met her eyes, she saw Bella looking at her in the same manner, with her slightly lidded eyes, dark and captivating.

“You...er...look great Hermione. I’m going to take you to The Lady now. It might hurt, or at least it did my first time, but it will pass.” Bellatrix held out a simple book with a rune on the cover, “trace the rune with your wand hand and hold on to me with your other.”

Hermione clung tightly to Bellatrix’s hand, comforted by her touch, the touch that had started stroking the back of Hermione’s hand with her thumb. She drew strength from this peaceful moment between them, after her afternoon of increasingly nerve-wracking thoughts about the older witch. Hermione began to trace the rune and a light erupted from it, growing in intensity and becoming all colors as it surrounded the pair of witches.

Hermione heard a soft, “oh,” from beside her, letting her know that Bella was just as entranced by what was happening. As the light became too bright to look at, Hermione squinted her eyes and felt the familiar tug of a portkey behind her navel.

“Welcome home, my children,” a resonant voice spoke to them as soon as their feet touched the ground.

“Hermione, this is The Lady,” Bellatrix spoke to Hermione, giving her hand a soft and reassuring squeeze.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Hermione said as she curtseyed to the beautiful woman standing before them. She was taller than most humans, with long auburn hair that glittered as if spun from rubies and gold.

“I have heard much about you from my first Valkyrie, I am pleased to finally meet you,” The Lady’s voice was melodic and soothed Hermione’s nerves, even as her confusion grew.

“Valkyrie?” Hermione squeaked.

“Yes. Bellatrix, as you call her, is my first Valkyrie, my Kunna . The gods have been displeased with how things have been on Earth recently and we have all felt it necessary to intervene to bring a peace to these lands again. You have weak men seeking to become gods and ruining all the good that stands in their way. No one plays god better than a goddess. But, I have many other things to do, so I have recreated my legendary Valkyrie to stop the evil permeating here on Earth.”

“This is er...a lot to take in. So these past few years, I haven’t even been working with Bellatrix. I was broken out of Azkaban by Valkyrie...er...Kunna ,” Hermione was growing frantic, drawing her hand away from Bellatrix.

“Hermione, no, it’s not like that. It’s complicated—” The Lady held her hand up to stop Bellatrix.

“She is all of those things, dearest one. She is still Bellatrix, but I have gifted her the power of a Valkyrie, specifically Kunna’s powers. You have not been deceived, there was just some truth omitted. But today we are going to explain everything. You will have knowledge beyond your wildest dreams, my lion.”

Hermione, ever the scholar, was instantly ready to hear anything The Lady had to say. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“You have been told to call me The Lady, a common title, but who I really am is Freyja, goddess of war, magic, sexuality and wealth. To be gifted the title of Valkyrie, one must also embody those things, for all are important traits to do what I ask of them,” Hermione couldn’t help but think that there was not a better person than Bellatrix to exemplify such things, “Valkyrie are the Chooser of the Slain, they can decide who dies in battle and of those who die, who will return to Valhalla as a hero and those who will not be permitted into Valhalla. Bellatrix has been bestowed upon her the power to feel, or Kunna . She is able to feel her targets; she can access their feelings and memories in order to determine who is worthy of Valhalla and those who must be slain for the greater good,” Freyja looked deep into Hermione’s eyes at the last sentence, electric blue eyes piercing hazel.

Hermione took a moment to compose herself, feeling as if she had been stripped bare by the stare alone. She finally spoke to Bellatrix, “so you are still the Bella I know, but with some new insight that had you turn away from Voldemort. Why did you come for me though?”

“I will always remain the Bella you know, I just have other names as well, now. I came for you, because not only can I sense the worthy and the unworthy, I felt a pull to you as soon as I had come to understand who I am. I didn’t understand why I was drawn to you, but Freyja has taught me to feel and to trust in my feelings implicitly. And I am very glad that I did,” Bellatrix tucked a loose tendril of hair behind Hermione’s ears as she spoke to her.

“She could feel that you are like her, my Vita . You are another of my Valkyrie, returned to Earth.”

“No, no, no, that can’t be. I’m just me, I’m a muggleborn. I’m nobody important.”

“You have been important before meeting me and you will be important after meeting me. I do not care about things such as blood status because they are irrelevant when it comes to you. All Valkyrie are my children, maybe not biologically, but you are mine . I created you long ago and you are special and important. The moment you touched the pages of the great Yggdrasil tree, you came home to me. The book does not respond to just anyone. I imagine Bellatrix told you a little of what she experienced, great pain and extraordinary comfort; that is because she is my Kunna , my feeler. What did you experience, precious?”

“A dazzling, blinding light; it was all colors and no color at the same time. It became too intense to look at and in that moment when I closed my eyes I felt at peace,” Hermione looked up at Freyja expectantly. “There wasn’t any pain though.”

“No. You would not experience pain. You experienced true sight, my Vita . You are the seeing.”

Bellatrix slid close to Hermione once again, knowing that this overload of information would be getting to her and as she wrapped an arm around her waist, she felt Hermione relax into her. Bellatrix leaned in, whispering in her ear, “we are in this together. I know you are overwhelmed, but I am right here with you.

“What does this all mean?” Hermione asked The Lady.

“It means that since the moment you touched the runes on the book made from the Yggdrasil tree, you unlocked all the powers I have granted you. You will begin to see and perceive things about those who must be slain and those who will enter Valhalla when they have fallen. You will know their future actions, so you will always be one step ahead of them. Although you already are a wonderful host of my given attributes, you will begin to embody them more wholly. You will become a force to be reckoned with and you will have my Kunna at your side if you choose so.”

“Of course I want Bella at my side. I need her at my side,” as Hermione said this, she felt Bellatrix grab her side possessively, forging a path of heat straight to her core and up to her heart.

“Good. I am very delighted to hear this, my children. I expect wonderful things from you two. Now go, it has been a long day for you, Vita . You must rest and reflect and hone your skills. Make me proud, my Valkyries.”

October 19th, 2002

The moment Hermione and Bellatrix crossed the threshold into their cabin, Hermione was instantly weak. She sagged against Bellatrix’s lithe form and Bella proceeded to pick her up and carry Hermione to her bed.

“Bellatrix, I’m seeing so much. It’s too much, make it stop. I feel so drained.”

“This is the hardest part, you’ll feel better after you rest. You’re body is adjusting to your new skill and time passes differently in Valhalla. We’ve been gone three days and you need to regain your strength and adapt to having such power.”

Bellatrix turned to leave her, but was stopped by Hermione reaching out and grabbing ahold of her wrist in a vice-like grip. “How...how can we do this? I can sense so many people we must take down. We’ll never survive. Bella, I’m scared.”

“We will survive. Don’t doubt us. But if we must go down, we’ll go down together. I swear to you that I will never leave your side,” Bellatrix spoke passionately and as she spoke she grabbed Hermione’s face to look into her eyes to prove that she meant every word.

Hermione moved her hand from Bellatrix’s wrist and to the front of her cloak and pulled her in even closer, until their lips met with the fervor of three years of pent up emotions, and new revelations, and devotion.

“Together.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239291