#specifically this is set in the day you vanished with the stars universe where they actually never met but its a good setting cuz

[ylceon]

extra rare huarita sketches

[tearueful]

Play With Fire ( Homelander x Reader)

18+ for language, female (plus size♥) reader | You walk into an elevator with Homelander...💋 [AO3 Link] Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, AO3 Link

You can only stare at Ashley’s cold dismissal. Not Ashley Barrett, of course. You’re not high up enough to get personally fired by the CEO. Her assistant is the one doing it, also Ashley. 

There were too many fucking Ashleys in this office.

Your head is buzzing and you can’t exactly focus on the words that spill out of her mouth. She has such a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. A fake, corporate smile as she tells you that as of today? You no longer work at Vought International. A job you had scraped and clawed for. Survived an unpaid internship in fucking New York City for, moonlighting as a waitress in a diner where patrons had sticky hands even for one such as you.

You stare at her, having no idea what words her placid smile makes. Something about turning your badge in at the front desk on your way out. That they’ve packed everything up at your desk already and it will show up to your house in two to four business days. An easier transition, she says. How kind.

Neatly packaging your existence away and shipping it off in the post as if it didn’t fucking matter. You blink and you’re already stalking out of the office. The dismissal had been clear. They had saved it for when you normally would be packing up for the day. Less drama. Always better to fire someone on a Friday afternoon. Not many witnesses. At least you can slink out with some scraps of your dignity. Before you realize it, you’re fast walking through the hallway to the elevator lobby. All your mind can focus on is getting in that elevator and escaping this fucked up place. That is your one goal as your insides churn with bitter anger and your brain buzzes.

Your rage is impotent, with no outlet. What could you even do? Nothing against Vought. Not with their airtight security. You knew how Vought paid everyone and anyone off to make undesirables vanish. How they mopped up the ‘accidents’ of their precious supe products. How your firing was another one of those casualties, dismissed at a whim of the Seven. You knew specifically who. That star-spangled blonde bastard. One typo led to one tantrum from the supe and you had to suffer for it.

Rage pushes your feet to move a little quicker as you spot the open elevator doors. Someone must have just exited, you see the retreating forms of a handful of people down the opposite end of the hall. Perfect, except those doors are closing and you’re too impatient to wait in the lobby a moment longer.

At the sight of the closing elevator doors, your feet pick up their pace. You can’t stay in this building a moment long, not in this hallway with the chance of spotting anyone you know who may recognize the set of your face as something amiss.. Some of them know you well enough to know that would mean something’s wrong, or they knew the bad news before you. That gives you the motivation to snap a hand out to stop those closing doors, praying it’s empty so you can take a breath alone. You need it.You deserve it. It’s the least the universe can do for you at this moment. The universe is not kind today.

The doors stop at the presence of your hand while you slip through the opening. Your regret is almost instantaneous as you step into the re-opening doors because there stood Homelander.

Fucking Homelander in his stupid suit, looking all the world like Uncle Sam shat out the perfect Boyscout. Except, you know far better. There was a monster in that human suit.

He looks ever the caged predator within the confines of the enclosed metal space, wholly uninterested in you. There’s only the briefest of glances your way before his attention is back on the elevator’s LED number display. Oh, but you hate him. Stuffed up supe, high on his own importance.

You’d seen him about the office, from a distance. A wolf among doting sheep, bleating for his attention. How did anyone dare to get close when he flashed those canines? You should flee, but the elevator doors click behind you with a finality. No, fuck it. Fuck him. You don’t care. All you care about is getting out of this shit hole and this elevator ride will be your last here. One way or another. The white hot rage is back to roiling in your gut and you feel as if you’d choke on it.

Homelander’s cold blue gaze flickers over you once more as you stew, taking you all in within an instant. Your badge and your name. Another useless Vought employee, a wriggling worm at his feet. The Hero Management Department by the logo on your badge, but he’s never noticed you. No wonder. You’re too short. Someone who could get lost in a crowd. His lips turn up in a cruel sneer. Fat, too. A pudgy, little grub. At least you’re dressed well. You need to be if you work here. Almost demure in that dress that must have cost half your pathetic paycheck. He wants to be disgusted by you, but you meet his eyes. People rarely did that. There’s fire burning in those wide eyes. A defiance he’s not used to seeing often. Especially not from something as breakable as you. It gives Homelander pause. He’s puzzled. That sort of volatile hatred was usually reserved for dear William, but you? It was almost comical seeing such a delicate thing like you sparking with it. You looked like a little firecracker about to go off and Homelander wonders what sorts of sparks you’d show.

Your expression was utterly, almost eerily calm yet he could feel the rage rolling off of you, it was a palpable taste on his tongue. An almost bitter tang that made Homelander reflexively lick his lips. That gets your attention. Previously, you’d let your eyes dart around the elevator in your unrest. Now your eyes fixate on the flick of Homelander’s tongue while the wheels within your brain begin to whirl. What is the stupidest thing you could do on your last day at Vought? Something reckless and impulsive. Suicidal even.

He watches you with interest now that you’re daring to meet his gaze, scrutinizing this little mortal confined in the elevator with him with anger steaming off your body. Normally, Vought employees fawned over him while reeking of fear. They cowered and all but tried to tongue his taint in their need to appease him and soothe Homelander’s volatile moods. Yet here you were, looking as much like a caged animal within the confines of the elevator as he felt most of the time. 

Homelander senses the shift in you, from anger to something else. He can’t pinpoint it, not yet. Not with how the adrenaline pumps through your veins as you fix your eyes on his face, a heady perfume if there ever was one. It’s a little like prey backed into a corner, finally deciding fight over flight. Homelander doesn’t fear you or any possible outburst you could throw his way. How could he? He’s a god and you’re an ant. Still, he’s curious as to what you’ll do. Homelander can see the tension in your body, how your muscles coil before a pounce.

You weren’t quick, by any means. Homelander could have deflected you with his pinky finger, but the determination in your eyes kept him still. What were you even planning to do to him, of all people? Seeing you unleashing your anger on him would amuse the supe. Give him a valid reason to crush your fragile skull in his fist with a satisfying wet crunch. Yet, you surprised him. All that anger and vitriol boiling over shifted into something else entirely, but it still burns.  It burns so much that you need to let it out. Which you do, by pressing your lips against Homelander’s. It’s pure impulse and oh so reckless. He’s killed people for lesser slights but you don’t care. Not in that moment. You want this, maybe even need it. Need to vent out all your frustration on the man who caused all this in the first place.

So you dig your nails into the leather fabric of Homelander’s suit, having to get up on your toes to press your lips against his own. 

They’re surprisingly soft, Homelander’s lips. You hadn’t expected it. A contrast to the lack of give against his body because leaning into Homelander is like leaning into a brick wall. Unmovable. The only give is from his lips and you suspect that’s because you took the supe by surprise.

The audacity of this little bug!

Homelander’s eyes are wide, shocked even at your brazen act. Staring down at this impertinent little human daring to touch him.There’s a desperation in your act, in how your face is still twisted up in rage and confusion but softening as you stubbornly keep your lips moving against his own.

Still so curious. 

He lets you kiss him, even goes as far to settle into the kiss himself. He can’t help it. Softness was a rare thing for him to feel and you really are oh so soft against him. Pliable and willing now that you’ve settled into properly kissing him. You’re not bad at this either, knowing exactly what sort of coaxing pressure to give him while teasing Homelander into giving back more.

So he does.

Homelander hooks you in the steel grip of one hand, fingers digging into your waist and he finds you yielding. Soft and giving as your lips. He should have expected that given your size, but he finds that he likes it. He can dig his fingers in a little deeper with no fear of snapping ribs with the slightest of pressure.

Homelander is kissing you back. Fucking Homelander! You half expected to get thrown across the elevator shaft for your action, but he was almost holding you gently. Almost. This close you can feel the restrained power of him that all but hums through the supe’s body. It should frighten you, but it’s thrilling having a monster yield so readily to you of all people.

You need something to ground yourself because this can't be real! You grab for Homelander's hair, sliding your fingers through it. Idly, you muse at the softness. It wasn't gelled and hard to the touch as you expected. Leave-in conditioner, that must be it. The thought makes you smile into the kiss, tightening your hold on Homelander's hair with a playful tug to coax his mouth closer.

You don’t expect the needy moan Homelander releases against your lips at the gentle tug. Would have never expected such a sound from a man like him. You greedily swallow it up, using it to your advantage to slide your tongue over his lips. They part under the pressure and then you’re kissing Homelander deeper. This is far from an innocent, impulsive act now. He’s meeting your fire, consumed by the flames as much as you are. More so because now Homelander seems intent on devouring you as he fits his lips to yours, bruising them while his tongue slides slick over your own within your mouth. He growls. Homelander fucking growls into the kiss and you feel that tremor down to your toes, arousal a white hot flash through your system. Thus it really can’t be helped when you mold your curves into the hard lines of his body, fingernails scraping at Homelander’s scalp while you try to taste every corner of his mouth. His free hand even comes up to take an ample handful of your ass as he pulls you flush against him properly, and is that- Holy fuck.

The chime of the elevator hitting the ground floor snaps you both out of the moment. You jerk apart and even in his surprise, Homelander’s grip is loose enough for you to step away safely. You stare up at him a beat, taking in Homelander’s flushed features and how he pants.

You did that. You did that to the most powerful supe of the Seven, possibly the most powerful supe in the world. Smug satisfaction settles on your shoulders for a moment.

You can see the rage building in his eyes, disgust twisting up Homelander’s features and there’s even the glaring threat of red sparking in his gaze. Holy shit. Your heart squeezes as the smugness shifts to the instinct to survive. It’s time to flee or die.

Homelander sneers at you and you know he’s about to say something scathing to put you in your place before he obliterates you. Instead of cowering, you flash him a thousand watt smile. The sort you’ve employed on dates with hapless men to get them giving dopey grins right back to you. It works well enough.

He blinks, the red glare vanishing from his eyes. People in this tower never smile at Homelander like that. Another surprise. You exit stage left before he recovers, almost running into someone on your way out of the elevator. It’s Ashley. CEO Ashley this time, with tablet in hand.

Her gaze flicks up from the screen as she gives a little start before suspicion tinges her features. “Weren’t you fired?” She whispers the words under her breath, brushing past you before stiffening up at the sight of the supe still within the elevator. “Homelander! There you are!” She chirps out with faux cheerfulness and a dead smile. “I’ve got fantastic news on your latest numbers!” That gives you enough time to slip away, with Ashley crowding up to Homelander eagerly to stroke his ego so he’s kept calm for another day and no one dies. You certainly didn’t die. Personally, you think the supe’s mind will be occupied by other things today. You turn your badge in at security’s front desk with a self satisfied smirk.

For his part, Homelander silently steps out of the elevator with eyes fixed on your retreating frame. He doesn’t register Ashley’s yammering as she tries to tell him the good news about a ten point boost. No, Homelander’s mind is too busy contemplating what he will do to you. Little bugs like you can’t get away with taunting gods.

A wide, shark-like grin spreads Homelander's lips now that he has revenge on his mind. He snaps his attention to Ashley, voice sharp as Homelander lifts a finger in her face for silence “Ashley. That woman. Give me her name, now.”

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

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[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #1-3

May, 1984

THE WAR BEGINS

Oof, here we go.

Just gotta replicate the pace that let me do the Hawkeye miniseries in one go, three times in a row.

This is probably too much effort considering its Secret Wars (or more accurately Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars) and maybe there’s not going to be a lot of big changes from this in the Avengers book to really justify it.

But we’re getting Jim Shooter writing the Avengers and his non-consecutive runs were a lot better than I had remembered. And it continues the theme he had from the Avengers book.

It just makes sense in a nonsense way to cover this story.

Last relevant time in Avengers! Acting Completely Normal Vision warned the Avengers about some weird, possibly hostile energy surges right in time for an energy surge to surge energetically in Central Park.

When the Avengers went to investigate, they found a weird structure that looked like a techy coliseum maybe. When some of the Avengers wandered into it (apparently the most bankable Avengers? Sucks to be Vision and Wanda, shrug) they vanished.

In the next issue, after several days, these heroes returned, speaking of a secret war they fought. Weird stuff like She-Hulk taking the Thing’s place on the Fantastic Four happened. In other books, Spidey got a cool new suit.

Would you know more?

After being raptured in their various books, the missing superheroes all end up on one of those distinctive structures like the one that appeared in Central Park, except IN SPACE.

Its cool that the Avengers will have some company.

We’ve got a terrific 3/4ths of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men (including Lockheed but not including Kitty Pryde for some reason), the Avengers, Iron Man, Spider-Man, the totally Articulate Hulk, and hilariously Magneto is also here.

Maybe Secret Wars is just setting up the most awkward moment in the universe, as a prank show.

I think I’d enjoy a big event that turned out to be a prank show at the last minute. The fan discontent. Imagine.

Everyone introduces themselves to each other but mostly the audience and Ben Grimm claims his new codename as the Easter Bunny.

Checking, marvel wiki doesn’t have Easter Bunny listed as one of Ben’s known aliases. Cowards.

Looking up into space, Captain America spots another one of the totally cool constructs and Professor X scans that it contains EEEEEEEVIL.

Specifically Amora the Enchantress, Ultron, the Wrecking Crew, the Absorbing Man, the Lizard, VICTOR VON DOOOOOM, Kang the Conqueror, Doctor Octopus, and Molecule Man. Also, hilariously, Galactus is there.

I’m more convinced than ever that this is a prank show.

You know what would be more hilarious? If Punisher ended up on this construct.

The distribution of villains is kind of odd though. Galactus and Doctor Doom map to the FF. Doctor Octopus and the Lizard to Spider-Man. Ultron, Molecule Man, and Kang are Avengers foes. The Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew can go a couple ways but started off as Thor villains. And Amora is usually a Thor villain but supposedly has chilled out around this time or at least is less of a pain than her horny sister.

No X-Men villains. Because Magneto is chilling with them in the generally heroic pod.

Also, all the heroes were raptured from Earth while the villains were grabbed from Earth, from space, from Asgard, resurrected just to be here, or from the FUTURE.

I know marketing is wagging the dog but be consistent, secret organizer who we don’t know yet.

The Thing points out that Magnet is off-sides, re: being in the hero construct, and Magneto is like ‘hey, chill out dudes’ and denies specifically doing murders.

Magneto: “I know not what power transported me here from my secret lair, nor why I was placed among you -- but I find it more appropriate to ask why such as you were judged fit to be placed in my presence!”

Oof.

Burn.

Then the conversation is put on halt on account of the wildest shit any of them have ever seen.

An entire galaxy vanishes but probably not due to a wave of anti-matter.

Thor: “It’s gone! Gone -- ! Swept away like dust before some unseen, giant hand!”

And then around that last star left unswept, various chunks merge together to form some sort of world, perhaps for battle.

A nice touch for later is that you can definitely see that one of the chunks is a stray chunk of city.

Some of the villains start squabbling because close quarters, ego, etc.

But Ultron goes hey we’re allowed to fight? I’m the best at that.

Ultron: “I am Ultron! I do not understand the events transpiring! I do not understand how I came to be resurrected... nor how I came to be here! Nothing computes... Insignificant! I am Ultron! My purpose is to slay that which lives. You are all living things, ergo -- Ultron must destroy you!”

With the benefit of having read all the Avengers up to now, I feel that Ultron got up on the wrong side of the resurrection a little.

He’s not not like this but he’s not usually this turned on?

(Then again, maybe he just came back cranky)

DOOM grabs and shakes Molecule Man to do something about this because given enough time even the mighty DOOM might fall before Ultron.

Ultron is famously annoying to defeat, what with that adamantium.

But Molecule Man is in therapy after the Avengers kicked his shit and Tigra yelled at him for being a punk. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

So Doom with all his brilliant genius tells MM a cool way to help out that won’t hurt anyone. Directly.

Using his Molecule Man power over molecules to lightly toss Ultron into Galactus.

So that Galactus goes ‘who the fuck scuffed my boots’ and rips out all the energy in Ultron’s Ultron.

He can do that.

Why wouldn’t he? If he can do that to a planet, he can do it to a pissbaby robot. Even one apparently containing more power than an atom bomb.

Then, because this is one of those plots where things are always thenning, a rift opens in the nothingness of space and a heavenly esque light shines out. A warbly voice commands the action figures beat each other up.

I mean. Its more like

The Beyonder: “I am from beyond! Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours! Nothing you dream of is impossible for me to accomplish!”

But you have to admire that this toy commercial of a comic book is being honest and upfront about being a story where action figures bonk off of each other.

Galactus just hears ‘i can finally shake off these persistent forever munchies’ and flies off to demand prepayment for action figure bonking, with DOOM following behind him.

The Beyonder speaks up warning Galactus that hey, personal space. And that a guy that can effortlessly wipe out a galaxy is gonna have a sweet barrier but Galactus wants the hunger pangs gone and does not listen.

DOOM recognizes a bad idea when he sees one once in a while and hangs back but still gets blown out of space by the force of Galactus bonking off the Beyonder’s barriers.

Captain America: “They were swatted back like flies!”

Professor X: “To the Beyonder, even Galactus is less than a fly, Captain!”

Interruption dealt with, the Beyonder gets the show on the road and sends the two constructs to different parts of the patchwork planet.

The Marvel Super Heroes And Magneto land on some hill and quickly make sure that there are no villains excepting Magneto around.

With Magneto around, the non-X-Men raise an objection to Magneto being around.

He sank a Russian submarine with all hands back in X-Men #150 but he insists that it was self-defense and also they started it.

The X-Men’s position is ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk plus we could use his help? The bad guys get GALACTUS, how is that fair?’

Well, they don’t say it but they’re probably thinking it.

And Hawkeye decides to be a little racist today.

Hawkeye: “You mutants stick together, huh? Well, sticking to a blood-soaked maniac like him doesn’t speak well of you, pal!”

Dude, Clint. Your dear old friend is Wanda.

Wait, why ISN’T Wanda here? Did the toy people really not want her? Fools. Her husband is toyetic as all get out.

Also, point of order, Wolverine? If anyone qualifies as ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk!’ here its you.

Johnny “good life choices” Storm decides he’ll just kick Magneto’s ass and end the debate but yeah. Yeah, no. Magneto makes a fool of him.

And then Magneto decides eff this noise and flies off.

With Magneto alienated (good job, guys), Professor X decides this group needs some dang leadership and throws a nomination to Reed Richards. Reed defers since he’s thinking of Sue, left at home and not able to participate in the event.

Wasp, the cool leader of the Avengers, nominates instead Captain America.

Wasp: “We’re off in a strange land, up to our ears in a little secret war that may decide the fate of the universe! Some people don’t know me well! They might have doubts... and there’s no room for that!”

I’m baffled that there’s people here who don’t know Wasp who has been heroing since the 60s but sure. Cap(tain America) probably gets more crossovers and whatever.

I mean, heck, we’re talking a group of heroes consisting of the Avengers (who she already leads), the Fantastic Three (who she’s well acquainted with), and the X-Men (who I’m sure she’s met, although awkwardly its going to later be revealed that Wasp is in the Hellfire Club, but only the sex parts).

And I guess Wolverine’s extensive backstory with Cap doesn’t exist yet because Wolverine isn’t keen on him being the leader, describing him as the least of the assembled heroes. When Hawkeye is right there!

I kid because I love.

Meanwhile, DOOM wakes up adjacent to Galactus ankle and heads to a nearby fortress which he correctly assumes is where the villains have ended up.

Wait, the heroes get beamed down to a random hill while the villains get sent to an advanced fortress with weaponry and we later learn vehicles sold separately?

Kinda stacking the deck, the Beyonder.

You gave the villains GALACTUS and A FORTRESS PLAYSET right out of the gate.

The other villains tell Doom that they’ve (mostly) decided that he should be their leader. But Doom has bigger fish to fry than the prizes that the Beyonder is offering.

In typical Doomesque fashion, he wants the whole kettle. But the other villains what with their petty concerns think he’s too afraid to fight.

So he ditches.

He goes to steal-borrow a spaceship and even though he hates the thought, takes off to go talk to Richards. And then Kang shoots him out of the sky with a GIANT GUN THAT THE VILLAIN FORTRESS ALSO HAS? to stop him from allying with the heroes.

Said (marvel super) heroes see the distant explosion and fly as a group in the most hilarious way possible to check it out.

God, I have always loved this image. Its squished down into the bottom third of the page but its a delight.

They find Doom sprawled in the crash site, rambling that he’ll only speak to RICHARRRRRDS and about the Beyonder’s power. But Cap offends Doom mightily but offering him a hand up and because Doom sees pity in Cap and RICHARRRRRRDS eyes.

So he blasts the heroes and fucks off.

How very Bakugou of him.

And right as the heroes recover from that, a bunch of villains arrive to get this secret war started.

I have a fondness for this particular issue. For a long while, issue 1 was the only issue of Secret Wars I could find. So I just had the start of this story with all these non-Spider-Man non-X-Men heroes I barely knew cliffhangering into an attack by villains I really didn’t recognize except for Doc Ock and the Lizard.

It was a window into another side of the Marvel Universe. And for child me, this first issue worked perfectly to intrigue me. All these characters, the very straightforward conflict, all the complications that immediately pop up like Magneto, Galactus, and Doom. Alas, small child resources.

June, 1984

PRISONERS of War!

The heroes react slowly to the sudden villain attack but thankfully, the villains aren’t working together well. Unthankfully, half of the heroes were already knocked out by the first attack.

Meanwhile, over at Doctor Doom’s side of the plot, he flies back over to where Galactus just in time to see him finally rouse from being slapped down by the Beyonder.

Galactus floats to his feet and wanders off.

Doom: “He ignored me! As though I were a gnat buzzing at his feet! And so I am... Just as all of us, even Galactus himself, are but insects to the all-powerful Beyonder! Thus, the others have chosen to play the Beyonder’s simple game -- thereby, in effect, paying homage to him. Should I, too, pay homage? Should I worship at the feet of this god-like being -- or chose another path... one only Doom would dare!”

I think anyone that knows Doom knows which option he’s gonna choose.

He heads back to the villain fortress and finds Ultron’s deactivated body and decides Doom can use this.

Meanwhile, back at the first secret battle of the secret war, the heroes rally and start fighting back under Cap(tain America)’s leadership.

She-Hulk even gets a designated girl fight with the only female villain on the villain team.

I’d complain, I would. But at least She-Hulk isn’t the only heroine on the hero side.

She-Hulk: “Hiya! I’m the She-Hulk! You must be the Enchantress! Gee, I’ve heard so much about you -- ! You’re a not-nice lady!”

Enchantress: “A green woman? Is there no end to the varieties of mortals?”

The Enchantress magic slaps She-Hulk away and comments that she could crush She-Hulk physically but its beneath her.

Yeah, all Asgardians have some level of super strength, that’s right. Even the squishy wizards.

But all She-Hulk heard was, ‘someone I can really punch!’

She-Hulk: “I don’t often duke it out with someone solid enough to really unload on -- and slow enough to let me! Oh, wow! That was, like tubular, you know -- to the max!”

Uh. Jen, are you okay? Did you have a stroke? You don’t usually talk so much in Mario World secret world levels.

I think maybe Jim Shooter didn’t have a good grasp on her. I don’t think he’s ever written for her. And the other heroes mostly don’t vary too much from generic hero speaking patterns. Add some smart for smart characters, add some rude to Wolverine, and so on.

The battle wraps up with Kang, the Enchantress, and the Wrecking Crew captured and the rest of the villains fleeing when the battle didn’t go their way.

Cap sends Storm off to scout for a cool playset that they can use as shelter and she does so, noting that the winds on Battleworld are super easy to control. Like Battleworld was created to create ideal fighting conditions for everyone. Pretty neat, the Beyonder.

Storm finds a particularly rad fortress (”Bigger than fifty-four and a half Pentagons, I’d estimate!” Wow!) and the heroes move in.

I unironically enjoy how toyetic this story is with the fortresses and the vehicles and the weapons. Because I’m almost positive that Mattel barely capitalized on it.

There were only two playsets. Pitiful.

Over in their new headquarters, Reed stashes the captured villains in some form of psychostasis which “works by controlling aggression through brainwave modulation!”

He also sticks Enchantress in a healing pod to address that nasty case of being She-Hulked right in the face. Nothing will salve her ego though.

Captain America: “It’s no wonder that the name Mister Fantastic is renowned for compassion as well as courage! You give added meaning to the word hero, Richards!”

Whenever someone loudly announces that Reed is super compassionate, it makes me feel like they’re overcompensating.

Nobody ever makes note of, say, Captain America’s compassion.

With the prisoners (of war? Is that the whole reason for the title?) accommodated, Cap calls everyone for a meeting in a cool meeting dome he found which has a small waterfall for aesthetic and so everyone has to yell to be heard.

Wolverine yells that they should mop up the rest of the villains and get this over with.

Not mentioning that in order to “win it” they’d have to kill the villains, which none of the heroes have shown any interest in doing so far.

Cap(tain America) replies that A) planet big and they have no idea where the villains got to. And B) the remaining villains slash antagonists are Galactus, Doctor Doom, Molecule Man, Doctor Octopus, the Wrecker, the Absorbing Man, and Magneto. Not really people you mop up.

In a fun logistics bit, Cap sends out a patrol to make sure the area is secure but he also sends out two additional groups to find  if there are any places in this fortress they can sleep and whether there's any... food.

Makes me imagine a Secret Survival War where the sides have to wrestle over limited resources.

Hours later, the villains that escaped the fracas arrive back at their fortress.

I’m sort of confused here.

Maybe it took so long because they had to make sure they weren’t followed. Or maybe because they didn’t have the sweet tripod vehicle anymore. But think about the flow of events of: everyone beamed down to Battleworld > Doom ditches the villains and gets shot down > heroes investigate and Doom ditches > villains show up for cliffhanger fight.

The villain fortress should be pretty close to where that fight took place. And then the heroes find a nearby fortress of their own so their fortress should be pretty close to the villain fortress. Maybe not in the same neighborhood but surely the same zip code.

Anyway, they find that while they were gone, Doom swanned in and renamed the place the Doombase.

If they have problems with it, they can talk to his Ultron.

Which I’m surprised he didn’t rename Doomtron.

Doom also tells them that he’s in charge now.

Absorbing Man: “Aw! Who gives a hoot! I need a meal an’ sleep! You wanna be in charge, Doom? Okay by me!”

If you think about it, this is just some steps added what the villains wanted all along.

They wanted Doom to be their leader but he told them he had bigger fish to fry and fucked off. Now he’s fucked back on and told them all that he’s their leader. They initially object before reconsidering due to Doomtron but, yeah, its all gone full circle.

Doom is a lot more cordial to Molecule Man though.

Doom: “Molecule Man... uh, Mr. Reece, I believe it is? I trust you were not inconvenienced.”

Molecule Man: “Well, being absolute master of molecules I can just assimilate molecules when I want, so I never have to be hungry, and I can just shoo away dirt molecules, so I’m always nice and clean -- but I am tired!”

Doom: “I have prepared a special chamber for you! I hope you like it!”

Molecule Man: “If not, I can always reconstruct the molecules -- !”

Heh.

Nice to see Jim Shooter able to follow up on the trajectory he sent Molecule Man on.

The rest of the villains head off but Doctor Octopus, the only other brain cell in this group, hangs back to talk to DOOM.

He wants to know what he plans to do about Galactus and then shows Doom on the biggest screen TV that Galactus is standing on a mountain glowing with an awesome power.

Doom just retorts that his plans are for his forces to triumph.

Doctor Octopus: Something tells me he’s got ambitions that dwarf merely triumphing in the Beyonder’s little contest! The question is whether he will destroy us in trying to achieve them -- or immediately after fulfilling them?!

Like I said, the only other brain cell in this group.

Meanwhile, while Magneto secretly sneaks into the hero fortress for Reasons, the heroes have a quiet moment that lets this Secret Wars biz really sink in.

Wasp: “I’d be having tea in my studio now, Jenny... And lunch on my patio tomorrow... This... um... situation we’re in... is kind of... much, you know? I feel there’s just a little thin wall inside me holding back a flood of despair!”

Its a nice touch, if intentional, that Wasp only admits this kind of thing now that she’s passed off the leadership responsibilities to Captain America. Its been a recurring character beat that she’s been keeping these sorts of worries to herself as chairwoman.

Over in another part of the fortress, Cyclops complains that he was right in the middle of his dang honeymoon when he was yanked into this event.

Cyclops: “I don’t know about you, Richards, but more than angry or afraid, I feel cheated! I -- I was on the verge of real happiness...”

Oof. This really sets the tone for his marriage with Madelyne Pryor.

Spider-Man and the Human Torch even have a little conversation.

Spider-Man: “You mean it doesn’t shake you, Torch, being here? What if we don’t get home?”

Human Torch: “The Fantastic Four have been off on space missions a couple of times, Spider-Man! We’ll get back! Believe me!”

I like when they’re friends.

So, I’m not sure what Magneto’s plan actually was. He was going to sabotage the fortress’ fusion generator as a distraction but Spider-Man’s Spider-Sense Spider-Alerts him to shenanigans afoot and he runs off to the power plant while Johnny Storm goes to get the other heroes.

Magneto decides to abandon whatever his plan was and captures Wasp as a consolation prize.

Gasp, another prisoner of war!

The Thing tries to give chase but inexplicably turns back to normal, smooth skinned Ben Grimm.

Also, Magneto escapes with the Wasp.

It’s like the aardvark says, you can get what you want and still not be happy.

Captain Marvel is holding the randomly anti-mutant ball for Hawkeye here and comments that none of the X-Men showed up to help stop Magneto.

Cap(tain America) tells her to belay that.

Captain America: “Let’s keep our minds on solving problems, not creating more!”

And they can’t even go after Magneto or rescue the Wasp right now because they have bigger problems: Galactus glowing with an awesome power and a massive storm that’s forming on Battleworld.

July, 1984

TEMPEST WITHOUT, CRISIS WITHIN!

The Beyonder has thrown in a nice stage hazard to keep things fresh in the form of a massive storm raging on Battleworld, with lighting that shatters mountains and winds that could tear someone’s limbs clean off.

Or perhaps its the unintentional result of just slapping a planet together out of random stuff you have lying around. The climate must be shot to shit.

I like it either way. Secret Wars has a lot of very toyetic collisions between groups of characters so its nice when Battleworld itself manages to be an obstacle.

Over in his giant U-shaped fortress, Magneto finally unwraps Wasp from the ball of random metal crap he has her in.

He lets her wander around until she finds him so that he can be all casual and eating a space scone.

Magneto: “Do not bother trying to attack me, my dear! My person is magnetically shielded!”

Wasp: “Well, la-de-da!”

Wasp: -blows up his space scone- “You think I have to strike at you directly to hurt you, monster?”

Hilarious spite, thy name is Janet van Dyne.

She also makes the point that magnetic shielding or no, she could bring this whole room down. Her being able to knock over a small house with her pew pew hasn’t stopped being true.

Magneto hastens to ask her not to do that because neither of them want to be out in the storm outside.

Besides, he just wants to talk! And flirt!

Magneto: “You are obviously a woman of intelligence and understanding as well as great beauty -- and I am not the monster you believe I am -- which is precisely what I wish to discuss!”

Wasp: “Oh? My intelligence, understanding and beauty or your non-monsterhood?”

Magneto: “Why... both!”

Back at the hero base (which is apparently ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF CHICAGO?? I want that playset), the storm has almost completely flooded the area, leaving just the top dome and such poking above the water.

The storm keeps dropping chunks of mountain at the base but Thor is standing on top, protecting it while grinning like a loon.

Captain Marvel even speculates that Thor could calm the storm but is whipping it up into a greater frenzy instead. Those storm gods, amirite?

Hawkeye is also standing by, with his explosive arrow, thinking to himself that if Thor fails, Hawkeye will totally save the day.

I don’t know whether that’s sad or endearing.

Mostly though he’s trying to distract himself from thinking about the new wife he left behind.

Cap, Reed, and Hulk are watching the villain base because apparently they do know where it is. The storm is keeping the villains in too but Cap figures they’ll pull one desperate attack as soon as the storm breaks.

They’ve already lost four of their dudes. Plus, Galactus isn’t a team player.

Spider-Man is just swinging around, enjoying how good for swinging the random technological pipes and tubes and whatsits are when he stumbles upon the X-Men having a secret meeting.

Professor X has decided, possibly on the basis of two (2) rude comments from Hawkeye and Captain Marvel, that the X-Men just don’t belong here and that they’d be better off going and teaming up with Magneto.

This... sure is a take.

Rogue comments that the Avengers don’t trust her because of that time she kicked their asses collectively. Which, hey, very possibly. They haven’t really had a thing to say about you though. They’ve mostly been grouchy about Magneto.

Which is kinda born out by the way he tried to blow up their base and definitely kidnapped the Wasp?? And is even now aggressively eating scones at her?

That’s the Magneto you guys want to go join because he’s more your people than the Fantastic Avengers and friends are?

You know, there’s a pattern I sometimes see with the X-Men where they loudly insist that the other superheroes don’t help them and don’t care about mutant stuff while at the same time doing shit like this.

“Should we get Reed Richards, smartest dick in the world to help with the legacy virus or the techno-organic virus Stryfe shot into Xavier? NAHHHH Beast can handle it.”

“Should we stick with the other superheroes or go hang with Magneto instead in a cool mutants only U-shaped fortress? Well, U is the coolest letter that isn’t X...”

If you squint, you can definitely see Krakoa all the way in the future.

Anyway, Spider-Man overheard all of this and goes ‘I’M TELLING!’

Wolverine tries to tell him that snitches get stitches but the thing is?

Spider-Man is ridiculous. He’s a ridiculously good combination of skills and powers which lets him make chumps out of entire groups at a time.

He’s embarrassed the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and now he’s about to embarrass the X-Men.

After making them all feel foolish, Spider-Man gets away and goes to tell Reed what that doody-head Xavier said when Xavier uses his psychic powers to just wipe the entire encounter out of Spider-Man’s memory.

Yeah, it’s to cover their imminent blowing off but also? I don’t think he wants anyone else to find out how badly his X-Men just got stomped.

Psychics are too OP, I tell you what.

In fairness IN FAIRNESS, the X-Men kind of have the right to fuck right off if they wish. I don’t even know what it had to be in secret. In fact, doing it in secret is a massive dick move of its own for reasons.

What would the Fantastic Avengers have done if the X-Men had just said ‘hey we’re heading out’? Would they have put them in stasis tube jail? I doubt it.

Professor X made the decision to handle this the stupidest way for whatever reason. That scamp.

Speaking of Magneto, he’s over at the U-Lair turning down a partnership offer from DOOM. So, hey, he has standards.

Wasp has become less ‘i’ll blow up this room and your breakfast’ about him over the course of whatever the hell they discussed in their offscreen chat.

Magneto even starts to make out with her and Wasp is like ehhhhhhhhhh what the fuck why not.

Why is this happening?

I guess he has a...................... magnetic personality?

Eh? Eh??

No, but seriously, I do have a theory that I heard someplace but it’ll have to wait.

What’s weird is that there’s a Marvel What If about some spinoff babies that come about if the heroes and villains got stuck on Battleworld and never managed to leave.

Wasp has a son with Human Torch. Which is pretty weird and comes from nowhere. I guess a lot can happen during a massive time skip. My point being though, its weird that they didn’t have a Wasp/Magneto baby instead given the weird chemistry they have here.

Meanwhile, over at DOOMBASE, DOOM has some women in giant tubes.

That’s So Doom.

Doctor Doom: “All is ready -- ! This alien technology, so rich, so subtle... so easily harnessed to serve my purpose... Energy, tapped from the raging tempest... And two mortal subjects who dare to gamble for power -- knowing that to lose is death, for truly, here I shall test the limits of power a human body can contain! With the throwing of a switch... so -- the die is cast! Hear me -- ! Power must be seized -- ! Crave it! Welcome it! Drink it in, despite the pain... or it will destroy you.”

And thus are Volcana and Titania created!

Talk about lasting effects of Secret Wars! Titania is going to be around forever! Mostly annoying She-Hulk!

Where did Doom find two random women to give superpowers?

Denver, Colorado.

No, seriously.

That city chunk we saw as Battleworld formed? That’s Denver, Colorado, USA, EARTH.

Why isn’t there a miniseries or one-shot about a normal ass civilian from Denver having to deal with OH MY GOD WHERE DID EARTH GO?

I actually read an interesting thing re: this scene. It exists because Mattel asked Marvel to introduce some new female characters so Shooter wrote in these two and a third who I’ll get to when I do.

Mattel then promptly used none of these characters for the associated toyline.

The toyline, in fact, used none female characters at all. It made toys of characters who weren’t in the story but did not have a single female character.

So its very weird that they asked Marvel to introduce some but I’m not going to knock the results.

Doom introduces these two new characters to the other villains.

Hilariously, Absorbing Man guesses that Doctor Doom just made women from scratch. Because doesn’t it sound like something he could do?

Volcana and Molecule Man immediately hit it off, her being attracted to his sensitivity and him being attracted to... positive attention at all, I guess?

He muses that he could easily stop the storm outside, because molecules, but his therapist told him to let nature take its course. “Unless Doom asks me to!”

And Titania and Absorbing Man. They don’t hit it off. She either wants to hit him or hit that and its not clear and it might be both.

(Spoilers: Its both)

Titania: “You! Absorbing Man! You look like the toughest man here! Get up!”

Absorbing Man: “Whatcha got in mind?”

Titania: “I’m going to do anything I want to you! Everything I always wanted to do to everybody who used to be bigger and stronger than me! Maybe I’ll just play with you... or maybe I’ll make you eat dirt... or maybe...”

Absorbing Man: “Woman, if you got somethin’ to prove, prove it tomorrow against the guys we’re fightin’!”

Titania: “You’re backing down?”

Absorbing Man: “Nope! I just ain’t getting up! I got nothin’ to prove... to a dame!”

Would you believe that they become one of the healthiest and most stable romantic relationships in Marvel?

Speaking of weird relationships, back over at hero base, Thor goes and pops the lid on Enchanteress’ healing tube because he’s bored and wants to talk to a peer. A god peer.

Enchantress is at first more characteristically worried about what her face looks like after being She-Hulked.

But she then creates a portal so she and Thor can go have a chat.

Later, it’s morning and Hulk has been too busy stressing over losing his Banner smarts to actually keep watch or wake up Cap for watch like he was supposed to.

So when the villains ram an airship into the hero base, the heroes are not at all prepared.

Titania hurls a giant slab of wall through the room the Terrific Three are sharing, breaking Johnny Torch’s arm and ribs and knocking out the other two. He manages to get himself and co out of danger by melting through the floor.

Meanwhile, She-Hulk is carrying a big heavy as she’s been doing since the previous night and is caught unaware by Volcana who blasts her off her feet and then collapses the room on top of her.

Doctor Octopus knocks out Captain Marvel who is in the hot springs dome but gets chased away by Hawkeye, claiming that long-range firepower is his weakness.

I’m stunned at the implication that Doc Ock is one of Spider-Man’s most dangerous foes but could be scared off by Hawkeye while Spider-Man could pretty easily drop Clint’s ass. There’s some rock-paper-scissors nonsense at play here.

Spider-Man and Iron Man are also taken unawares by Ultron but manage to hide under some rubble.

Hulk leaps into the fray at Molecule Man and Doom but Cap convinces him to fall back to a defensible position.

The villains reconvene with all the captured villains freed except Enchantress (since she fucked off to have a chat with Thor) and the heroes scattered and buried under various rubbles. How the fortunes of Secret War turn.

Sure would have been nice if the X-Men had been around to help or if they mentioned they wouldn’t be. Sure would have been.

Doom: “We have accomplished much here today! And to finish it, we shall level this place so that no stone remains on stone!”

No wonder Mattel didn’t make a playset of this base! Dammit Doom, you’re ruining the merchandising!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for more of Secret Wars! At this same pace! Its sustainable! This is fine! Like and reblog too!

[ask-iamnotanalicorn]

Previous: The Nightmare Moon Timeline

The Tirek’s Reign Timeline

After Nightmare Moon’s return and battle for the throne, Princess Celestia and her protégée, Princess Cadence, subdued the maddened alicorn and managed to imprison her. Celestia had no time to celebrate not having to re-banish her sister for another thousand years; she went into a deep study, searching for the missing key that would activate the Elements of Harmony and free Luna of the poison darkening her mind and feeding on her ancient wrath. Princess Cadence and her husband Shining Armor took over running the throne of Equestria, giving the sisters time to find a solution and reconciliation. She is a wise and fair leader, despite her youth, and the uneasy country began to settle.

But with Celestia so distracted and Cadence not yet trained in monitoring the ancient dungeon of Tartarus, Tirek made his escape unnoticed. He was more cautious now than in his last quest to steal Equestria’s magic: the theft of a few ponies’ magic here, the emptying of a lonely hamlet there. Rumors of a magical plague and a strange monkey-horse creature who ate magic were all Cadence and Shining Armor had to go on, and they and the Royal Service were baffled by this creature or affliction that struck and then vanished again and again. Panic began to spread through Canterlot as more and more ponies on the outskirts of the city reported their magic stolen.

By the time word of a magical plague and centaur sightings reached Celestia, the only pony present who would recognize the significance, it was too late. Tirek had gained enough magic to come into the open and make his attack. First Cadence and her husband and guards fell, unprepared for what they faced. With Cadence’s alicorn magic combined with the many ponies’ he had stolen, Tirek defeated Celestia in spite of her best efforts. And lastly, ignoring her spitting invectives, he drained Nightmare Moon, as well.

With such potent magic flowing through him, Tirek’s lust for more power grew worse than ever before. He set out to steal the magic of every pony and magical creature in Equestria - and there were none who could hope to stop him. 

----

In the town of Featherhorn, there lived a young stallion with his parents, brother, and sister. He was a perfectly normal pony... or he would have been, were it not for the wings and horn he was born with. He got on alright - he had a few good friends and a supportive family, a love for his work and a faith that sustained him – but there were a number in the town who disapproved of him. He was the butt of many jokes and accusations, and often distrust. And the cultists who carried on in town caused trouble and made things worse for him, since he got the blame. He found it more and more tempting to stay out on the road, plying his trade and absorbing the confusion of strangers better than he could take the dislike of his own neighbors.

One day while the stallion was home, the town received word that a monster was coming. The monster had stolen the magic of the princesses, and now he was a giant, rampaging across the land and stealing the magic of every pony he found. He would soon be upon their town, and there was little time to flee - for who could run faster than this massive monster? Were they all doomed to lose their magic, and worse, their marks?

There was a small chance: a system of caves where they could hide, deep enough that the monster might not find them. But there was not enough time to get all the townsponies out, especially the sick and old; they could already hear the creature’s thundering hoofsteps on the horizon. If only they could distract it somehow, or slow it down... but who could hope to even do that much with a monster so powerful?

Nopony expected the young stallion, the alicorn imposter, to speak up:

“What if he believed there was another alicorn?”

The plan was dangerous. He would need help; handicapped in both flight and unicorn magic, he wouldn’t be able to fool the monster for long on his own. Few were willing - and of those who were, only a small number had the abilities that were needed. In the end, it was the stallion’s own brother and mother who helped him craft the final bits of his plan.

When the monster came upon the pony town, ready to further engorge himself with pony magic, the brown stallion appeared in the sky. He flew with confidence, bolstered by the carefully-directed winds of his expert flyer mother. His horn blazed with gold and silver light, bright as a star, aided by his magically gifted brother. And the monster believed the facade, and hungered only for more alicorn magic.

The chase lasted an hour, carefully-aimed magically bolts reflected through Sales’ horn by Pitch Black, skillful dodges aided by Pitch Forward. They had no hope of continuing the charade indefinitely, but that hour was enough; the townsponies were able to escape, hiding deep where the power-mad centaur wouldn’t find them. When at last the centaur swatted Salespitch from the sky and drained the magic from his injured body, the monster was enraged to taste such a miniscule amount. Black and Forward attempted a rescue, and were drained as well, their weakened bodies falling beside the unconscious Salespitch. 

When the monster turned back to his initial target and found the town empty of all ponies - what’s more, he could not detect pony magic anywhere nearby - his wrath burned the town to cinders. But when he returned to find the ponies who had tricked him, in order to punish them further, their bodies had vanished. 

Eventually, the monster left, continuing his rampage across the landscape. In a hollow of a tree, Pitch Black waited with the unconscious body of his mother and the severely injured body of his brother, the three of them blessedly undetectable now that they lacked their magic. But Black did not need his cutie mark to remember his driving purpose: to be there at the zero hour, when those he cared for needed him most.

The townsponies found them eventually; the father and daughter were overjoyed to find them alive. But Sales would not waken, though the best healers in the town mended his wounds. Badly injured and drained of magic, he slipped into a coma. Only alicorn-level healing magic might stand a chance of healing him, but that was lost to the monster.

But the town had been humbled. The one many of them had scorned the most – the pony who so hated being mistaken for something he was not – had taken up the very trait that caused him such trouble in order to give everything for the sake of those who despised him. The townsponies of Featherhorn vowed to protect him until he could be healed, and to keep away the members of his cult should they reappear to take advantage of his comatose state. And should he waken, they would treat him with the respect a hero deserved.

The monster still rampages. None in this group of refugees can hope to defeat him. But they have a refuge where they can stay safe until the nightmare has passed - and but for three of them, every pony and zebra has their magic. Perhaps one day, their fallen few will regain their magic, and the princesses will rise again. 

But for now, they wait. And they guard their fallen hero.

-----

Fun Facts About The Tirek Timeline/Art:

- Yup, you guys just got a pretty close parallel to the mysterious Tirek Incident. It obviously didn’t go down quite like this in the comic timeline, but some of the important bits are in there. We’ll eventually find out what happened. I so wanted to avoid too many spoilers, but the story wouldn’t make sense without SOME of them, so... merry early Christmas, I guess XD

- And yes, I did consider letting Sales die in this timeline. But I just can’t kill off my boy. I also snuck in the meaning behind Black’s cutie mark, I’m curious to know what ya’ll think :D

- When Tirek sucked the magic out of Nightmare Moon, he unwittingly drained out the corrupting magic that was so heavily influencing Luna and fueling her rage and paranoia. Additionally, Luna got to see her sister lose her magic while fighting to protect her from Tirek. They reconcile over this event and join with Cadence to search for the missing Elements of Harmony.

- The Crystal Empire will come around because it has to, but Sombra bides his time a bit more when he realizes there’s a GIANT MAGIC-SUCKING CENTAUR hoarding the collective magic of the entire nation of Equestria, and it has bomb-blaster beams that can level towns.

- Meanwhile, a certain race of bug-ponies are infiltrating the Crystal Empire, seeking safety from the magic-eating centaur who is just TRASHING the place for fun now that he’s got so much power to chuck around. Plus there are rumors that this kingdom was once RUN on love, and Chrysalis really wants to figure that out. There’s a whole ‘nother story in there, I’m certain, and it probably involves a few specific changelings making friends with a few crystal ponies and learning about giving love. Maybe this time, without several humiliating defeats via pony love shockwaves and weaponized rainbows to harden her pride, Chrysalis might actually be willing to give it a try herself.

- This is a timeline where the princesses DO find ponies who can wield the Elements of Harmony. Ironically, Twilight was drained of magic along with the rest of Canterlot, but her studies in magic theory and history lead her to studying ancient texts about the Elements, and one thing leads to another until the princesses meet her. Also, Twilight is a bit better at making friends in this universe since she wasn’t constantly distracted with trying to please Celestia (not that I blame Celestia for the canon events, I mean look what could have been avoided in THIS timeline!). They don’t have the special Super Power-Up box and keys, but I like to think the initial power burst of the reactivated Elements does the job on Tirek as well as it was meant to on Nightmare Moon.

- No, Luna does not get the bad magic back when her magic is restored along with everyone else’s. The Elements don’t play that game, that stuff is burned. She and Celestia go back to ruling Equestria together once this is all over while Cadance works on connecting with the newly liberated Crystal Empire and their changeling allies.

- Honestly, I didn’t expect it, but this is one of my favorite of the art pieces in regards to composition and color. I just really like how the color turned out, and the magic glows. I was rather happy to find I could duplicate the effect of Tirek’s magic illustration from the show without too much trouble. :D I also borrowed a lot of tones directly from a screenshot of the show scene. It’s really nice when art things come together!

Next Week: Discorded

[smolbeandrabbles]

Come What May - Ned Kendall x Reader (Beautiful Kate)

Soulmate!AU

GIF CREDIT: X 

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: For @severalmiles​‘s Mendo Nation Secret Santa - I know you’ve already read this, but I still wanted to tag you and thank you for letting me post it on here of New Year! 😁💜

Alright guys, this is it! Your last fic of 2020! And it’s my very first Soulmate!AU

I hope you enjoy - I got a little creative with the whole AU idea..!

@mandy23b​ - thank you so much for your Soulmate discussions with me, they were SO helpful 💕 Now you get to read mine! 😁

Disclaimer: Beautiful Kate characters not mine / it is my own Soulmate!AU idea / lyrics not mine / gif not mine

Premise: Soulmates are rare; and to have one you need to meet a specific set of criteria. Ned Kendall does. The Soulmate trend is known in the media as ‘New Years Day Phenomena’, and the end of year is far approaching... 

Words: 8380

Warnings: sexual content (but not too explicit) / Swearing / Drinking / AU (obviously!)

______

Never knew I could feel like this, Like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss; Every day I love you more and more.

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring; But I love you until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste It all revolves around you.

And there's no mountain too high, No river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side, Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide, But I love you Until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

--

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before…

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's going to be a long road I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or you're making mistakes I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

---

The only noise in the room was the scratching of pen to paper, the clock ticking the seconds of the day away - and, as it was late evening, there were precious few of those left. The still burning cigarette lay regretfully forgotten in the ash tray as his writing hurried across the page. The final draft of his latest novel was due in a few weeks, but he was hardly bothered by that now - something was pulling his attention and it was infinitely more pressing. Ned ran a hand through his hair: it was like writing while possessed, that was the only way he could describe it. When he’d look back the morning after and hardly remember a word of it. And the writing calibre too… so far removed from the trashy smut he seemed to be pretty into these days. They sold copies; he wasn’t bothered by that… but this kind of blacked-out writing often made its way into novels of its own. His darker, more serious work; and hopefully not the kind that his family would be embarrassed reading. He flipped another page and continued - always the same… it always started the same. Soulmates. Usually Ned Kendall scoffed at such a word. It was banded around far too often, and made everyone far too excitable. But it was a rarity to actually have one. Someone out there hardcoded into you, someone made just for you. But he’d heard the news reports - the ‘miracle’ of it all. Seeing the same person all your life; compelled to do everything you could to make them real by any medium necessary. Until you finally found them. It was known as the New Year’s Day Phenomena - because all the reports of this ever happening around the world occurred on New Year’s Day. Everyone seemed to find each other on this magical clock strikes midnight evening. New Year, New Beginnings. The beginning of forever, it seemed. Ned Kendall was sceptical. This wasn’t like those soulmate universes he’d read before, countdown clocks embedded in your skin… timer running out when you met, or first words exchanged tattooed on your wrist… In those universes everyone had a soulmate. In the world he was living in, they were rare. And when a new couple appeared, they were treated like celebrities. The problem was, ever since he could remember, Ned had dreamed of the same woman. At first she scared him, she haunted him, like she was there in his veins and he couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he covered her with other women, no matter how many times he thought they might be the one and would laugh in the face of the whole notion of a Soulmate, these relationships always fell apart. And she was always there in the back of his head. Even when Ned was sleeping with them, it was her he got flashes of. It was almost like she was real, like if he imagined hard enough, he could reach out and touch her… and yet she always remained just out of his grasp. So he wrote her. Ned poured her into every single one of his novels, somewhere. Even if she was a bit part character with no dialogue, her image was there. She had been his main character a few times: when he got this urge, as he had right now, and a force he couldn’t explain compelled him to write her in such a way. She was the worst muse he’d ever had. And what Ned Kendall hated most of all was that he was falling for her. And hard - for this past few months she’d been nearly his every waking thought. Pages and pages, and reams and reams of writing covered his apartment and it was all her. And what scared him most was the year was ending. It was nearly New Year. He’d spoken quietly with Sally about this a few times. Because he didn’t want to believe it, because it felt crazy and Ned needed her to set him straight. To let him know that he was crazy, because Sally definitely would. Instead she looked at him, amazed, and then laughed: “Oh my god, Ned… Do you… Do you have a Soulmate?” “Sally, stop, it’s not funny!” “You! Part of New Year’s Day Phenomena!?” She cleared her throat, trying to act serious as she apologised, “Of course the most disbelieving person in the world on Soulmates would have one…” “This is so stupid. There’s no way, I’m just a writer and she’s…” “Ned. I know you’re just a writer - but all the tells are there. Aren’t you excited? You’re going to meet the person you’re meant to be with. And you know what she looks like already… Finding her will be so easy..!” He exhaled, tipping his head and body back to look at the sky; “What if I don’t like her-!?” “What part of Soulmates don’t you get, you were made for each other!” “What if she doesn’t like me?” Sally sighed, “Then she’s crazy.” “With how fucked up my life’s been?” “Geez…” She shook her head at him, and placed her hand over his, “Just give her a chance… Ned. Whoever she is.” He quirked his eyebrow at her, with a smile, “It doesn’t exactly sound like I’m going to have a choice-!”

 Usually the holiday didn’t mean a thing to him, it was just another year. Maybe he’d go to a bar, swallow all his sorrow with an expensive tab and take someone home. But something was changing. It wasn’t just the way she looked anymore; he was so used to flashes of her body, her face, her smile, those pretty eyes, the kind of person who - if Ned was totally honest - had walked straight out of his fantasy. But he was starting to get a feel for her personality and the way she sounded; her laugh, her voice, the way she flirted, her tells when she was shy or bending the truth just a little. And the closer the end of the year was, the stronger her presence became: now when he dreamed her he could feel her touch, how it felt to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair… He didn’t even know her name, but Ned knew what it felt like to pin her beneath him, heartbeat flush with his… He shook that thought away and dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair. This was all getting a little too much. This woman was driving him insane. Ned swallowed hard, and looked to the clock. He had but one conclusion for the whole thing, and how much it all scared him. He was exhibiting every sign of a crazy person, so utterly paranoid and obsessed with the thought of finding his ‘Soulmate’. What if she was just a muse his thoughts had dreamed up? What if she didn’t even exist…? Was it all too real for that? Could Ned bear to find out the truth. But Ned had all the tells; even when whining ‘give me a breaaak’ as previous girlfriends had forced him to watch these ‘romantic’ interviews, he’d been listening. And this was what happened, everything got stronger and you became more fixated with them until you finally found them. 31st December into January 1st. 

He couldn’t risk it; Ned just couldn’t risk the excitement that rushed through him becoming anguish and devastation. Ned Kendall would be staying in this New Year’s Eve. He didn’t even want to stay up to welcome in the New Year.

***

Soulmates - wasn’t that everyone’s dream? To find the one person they were destined to be with. You had always found the prospect to be exciting whenever you’d heard talk of it. Every time those interviews came up on TV - you believed in the idea of pre-destined partners and kindred spirits… two halves of a whole, before you’d become aware that you had your own. And you still believed in that notion even for people that didn’t have visions like yours. Afterall, didn’t most people end up with that one person. How could that not have hinted at something meant to be? Yours was just a little clearer than everyone else’s. You knew who that person would be. Even if you didn’t know the how, or the when, or the where… or even the why you? At first you hadn’t even really put two and two together, his was simply a face that had occurred to you in dreams. But one that you had latched onto and interested you. Intelligent, mischievous blue eyes, a little smirk that hinted at exactly what he was thinking, dark curls that you just wanted to run your fingers through, his cheek bones were accented but he wasn’t overly skinny. He had one of those faces that told a story, and every so often when you’d get flashes of him you could see all those troubled emotions. He must have been a fan of dark colours; at least, that’s always what he was wearing… but you liked that, because it just brought out the blue in his eyes even more. And that was what you focused on most when you drew him. Your apartment and your artist’s studio were covered in drawings, paintings, sketches of pieces of a man you’d never known. And you really meant pieces; sometimes you would just get his hands, the kind of motions as if he were explaining something to you (and he was left-handed, by the way he held a pen) you might get nothing else, but you knew they belonged to him. At first he was simply a muse, and your best friend used to laugh - when you said you had no idea how he popped into your head - that you must have just been drawing your perfect man. You couldn’t say she was that far off, but you could have done something similar without the need for his image in your head… and it was the emotional depth of the pieces that had you wondering exactly who he was. Maybe he was a face you knew, maybe he lived around here or you’d seen him on your travels to work - and yet when you started actively looking for him, he was still nowhere to be found. You weren’t one to dare to hope to believe in him being your Soulmate. Your clientele always asked about the works, but none were for sale. Sometimes you thought you’d put them up in the hope that someone would recognise him, and tell you who he was. Or that he might just up and walk in here one day: like he truly had just walked out of your dreams. But you always liked having the familiarity of his presence around, and drawing him just came so naturally to you. There was a particular centre piece - almost life-size - of him sitting at a desk. A vision; with the light pouring through the window behind him and hitting all his features just right. He was adsorbed in the papers in front of him, all handwritten; you wondered if they were letters - perhaps love letters. You liked to imagine that they were. That either he was writing them, or reading those words from the heart of the person who loved him the most. You got visions of him pouring over paper like this often, and he always looked so relaxed… it was when he looked his best to you. When you thought he most looked like himself; if you even knew what that meant. How could you know? Even when you felt like you did. Whenever clients asked who he was, and why he was so special (after you’d told them the piece wasn’t for sale) you would always give a bashful laugh and look to the painting: “Oh, I… I don’t know. I just dream about him. He comes to me in dreams…” Almost all of them got wide-eyed and then turned to you - knowing the stories everyone was becoming obsessed with - “A Soulmate!?” You would always shrug, because you simply didn’t know. “Well, perhaps. But I don’t think so.” Besides, you knew as well as they all did - you had to more than just envision your Soulmate. You should be able to feel them, to know their touch, to hear their voice. This man had been coming to you in dreams day and night, and you’d never got anything physical from him - just his body. Whether in still images or kinetic energy. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time for anything more, or maybe you were just insane for believing that something so rare could really happen to you.

 As this year started to trail off, things began to change. And it made you too excited - you made him your every waking thought - because somehow that heightened the experience. And sometimes you weren’t all that sure these dreams were dreams; waking up surrounded by sketching paper and drawings you hadn’t ever remembered doing yourself. All of this guy… and sometimes a little more risqué than you’d ever display. Sitting there trying to recall the why - were you having sex dreams about him now? You knew sometimes you felt him pinning your wrists back, how he’d bite his lip and the distinctive way he called you a ‘good girl’. You knew how it felt to entwine your fingers with his now, and the warmth of his body as he embraced you. Sometimes you would get his distinct scent and you’d spent far more time than you’d ever care to admit in department stores trying to find whatever brand of cologne he used, to no avail. His voice really got you though, that beautiful Australian twang had just a touch of way out there - not a natural city boy. You realised you were quickly falling in love with him. And you hoped against hope that this wasn’t just your mind overthinking it, or playing tricks on you. That this was the real deal. That whoever this man was, he was really your Soulmate. And perhaps, with New Year fast approaching - this would be the year you met him. Still, sitting over a cup of coffee with your friend, in front of yet another painting you were mid-way through, you voiced your concerns. She only rolled her eyes, “Girl! Have you seen your face-! LOOK how happy you are!” “But, shit-! What if they’ve all been right?! What if he is my Soulmate!? Am I crazy, tell me I’m crazy!?” “Girl. He’s EVERYWHERE in all your artwork. No, you aren’t. We gotta FIND this guy.” “But what if I’m wrong!?” There was something scary about the whole thing too, and how foolish you’d feel if you were so sure that you’d find him, and it turned out this wasn’t what you felt it was. “Stop thinking you’re wrong, and start thinking about HOW you’re going to find him. It’s all New Year’s right!? You gotta be out there looking! You’ve gotta take fate into your own hands.” She pulled out her phone, “I’m going to find out where all the big parties are - with the way you draw him, I’m sure he’d be up for getting into some trouble at one of those.” She had a point, he didn’t exactly look like the stay at home with a cup of tea type. Maybe he’d stay at home for other reasons though… You felt a gentle heat stir in your stomach on that thought alone and had to curse yourself. “...What if he doesn’t like me? Or… I don’t like him.” “You’re worrying again!” She looked up from her phone when you didn’t respond; you were starting to look a little disheartened as you stared at the floor, fingertips tapping your knees. She wasn’t about to let you spiral on something that was so exciting, and so important. New Year was just around the corner and she was determined to make sure that you got the opportunity to meet this guy, and have the best night of your life. “He’s a looker, I’ll give him that…” She raised her eyes back to your painting and then around the room, making you turn back, smile on your face at how right she was, “but if this Soulmate of yours doesn’t treat you right after all this, I’m gonna kick his ASS!”  

***

It was the week of New Year and you almost couldn’t sleep these days. You’d spent most of the holiday with your family, but you just couldn’t ever get comfortable. Couldn’t ever shake the feeling that something huge was coming. This felt bigger than just your brain playing tricks on you though, it felt like your body and soul were being dragged towards a force that you had no way of resisting. And there was no way you even wanted to fight it, you just let it carry you. Heck, you knew that you’d spent most of your time distracted, and were glad that everyone else was so relaxed and you didn’t have a client deadline to adhere to, because if you thought you were being driven crazy by him before… When you were able to quiet everything for just a moment and slow the world down to concentrate, you began to formulate a plan. No-one had ever been specific enough on whether it was New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, or that funny moment of Midnight when a New Year officially came. Your friend had the good idea of scouring New Year’s parties - if it was meant to happen you weren’t going to find him cooped up in your house, that was for sure. And you had the little list she’d painstakingly laid out with a walking route, so you caught all the bars in the most populous area of town. But you still had no real idea of how this was going to work; would it be like a chance encounter? Would neither of you have any idea until you finally beheld each other for the first time? So your aimless wandering would still lead you to him - just like fate? Or would this feeling inside you that kept building just guide you straight to him - like a homing beacon that only got stronger as you got nearer? You didn’t know. And you wondered how he was feeling, wherever he was in the world right now. Was he just across town? Was he elsewhere in the same country? Was he halfway around the world..? The only thing you hoped, was that he was just as excited as you were to finally meet. To finally find the person you belonged with. You’d got it wrong plenty of times before… so you had to admit, you were ready to get it right. 

  ***

It was gone 11pm on December 31st and Ned Kendall was still sitting at home slow sipping a drink, finding it surprisingly easy to ignore that nagging feeling in the back of his head. Whoever she was, she wouldn’t meet him tonight and - in his opinion - she’d be a lot better for it. Why the hell had whatever it was that decided to allocate people Soulmates, decided to stick this poor woman with him. ‘She musta done something really wrong somewhere along the line!’ Ned took another sip. If she was out there looking for him, she would be disappointed, Ned knew; but she could move on. In fact he wasn’t even sure how that worked… had anyone ever ignored this call before? Did the bond just break if he did? No-one had ever talked about that… His phone buzzed, and at first Ned thought it was an ignorable text, but it was a call. And it was from his editor. He’d finished his master draft by now, and he’d let his editor know he was ready to hand it in, but Ned had said there was no rush and he’d simply drop it in next time he passed the office. Besides, it wasn’t due until mid-January, so he was ahead of schedule. ‘What the hell…?’ Knowing he couldn’t exactly not pick up, Ned answered. “Hello?” “Yo. Ned, I’m in town! Get the fuck down to Campari’s now, and give me your draft.” Ned glanced at the clock again, sounding a little incensed; “On New Year’s Eve?!” “YES. NOW.” “But-” “No buts, except yours, get it down here, N O W.” “Are you fucking-” What was the rush? There was surely no need for this? Okay, so his editor wanted the manuscript in person, fine, but it was New Year. Everyone had better things to be doing than worrying about work! Ned sighed, knowing that arguing would get him nowhere, given how persistent his editor was; “Okay…” “Okay! See you soon!” Ned groaned as he hung up and ran his hands through his hair; looked like he wasn’t about to get away with staying in all night after all. He stood and picked up his manuscript. How likely was it this thing was about to get lost in a bar somewhere-!? At least he had copies. Ned was determined to keep his eyes on nothing and no-one for too long; just drop the draft with his editor and get out of there. No loitering. No chance for this Soulmate thing to come off. Although the second he stepped out of his apartment the uneasy feeling he’d been able to keep at bay up until now hit him full force. “Aw man…” Ned shuddered, as if some invisible presence was watching him. He could do this… He could do this and still save this poor woman from the fate of him. He rushed to the bar, and although it was crowded, his editor was looking for him and waved him over. Ned didn’t trail his eyeline anywhere else and almost immediately dumped the manuscript on the bar. “Couldn’t you have waited like 2 days!?” “Nah, I was in town, thought it’d be easier to get a head start on all the deadlines in case of revisions.” “Man, I dunno, Mike… In the middle of a bar on New Year’s Eve?!” “It’s okay!” Mike produced a case from beside him and tapped it, “I promise it’ll be safe; I’m not even drinking a lot.” “Well on your head be it, I have copies!” “It’s safe!” Ned held his hands up – whatever - and backed away from the bar, ready to take his leave. “Uh, no! Ned, stay, have a drink it’s almost midnight!” He was painfully aware of this fact and didn’t need reminding. “I’d rather not-” Mike yanked him back to a bar stool, flagging the bar tender down for Ned’s favourite brand of whisky; “What are you so desperate to leave for?! What else is there to do in the city tonight? You got someone waiting at home or something?” “Not exactly.” Ned kept his eyes on his drink as he sipped, disgruntled. The uneasy feeling was pushing down on him like a ton of bricks and he wished he’d told Mike to fuck off and stayed back at home where he felt safe from this. Or made up any lie really; that he was celebrating with Sally somewhere… Why didn’t he think about that!? The countdown to midnight came and went, and Ned felt this one was just as unimportant as all the others. He didn’t even count the numbers as everyone else yelled them. But as the clock struck 12 Ned downed the rest of his drink, placing it decisively on the bar as everyone cheered. He turned to Mike as everything began to lull into friends hugging and lovers kissing: “Can I go now?” Mike huffed, arms folded. “Wow. You’re a real kill joy, I thought you loved a good party?” “Yeah, New Year never really stuck. Thanks, though. Enjoy reading!” “Thanks Ned, I will! Happy New Year!” Ned smiled but didn’t really mean it, just glad to be leaving. He scooted out of the bar and into the street, where everyone now seemed to be spilling. ‘Thank god I can go home and breathe now. What a waste of time.’ It wasn’t so easy to hurry home, however, as the crowds of people outside were mostly still - either watching the fireworks now adorning the sky, or couples sharing their New Year’s kisses, or groups going from bar to bar… and those who, just like him, were heading home. And - as much as he despised having to be out - Ned was politely navigating these people. As he looked at them now, he couldn’t help but shake his head. What was so great about New Year anyway? In his experience he’d never had one that particularly stood out against any of the others. It was all just days blending into days. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept walking slowly through the crowds of people, smiling to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. But it wasn’t until far too late that he realised the uneasy feeling had left him completely. So really Ned should have been jumping about in the street for joy that he was finally rid of it, only this time as he looked up to dodge around some more people watching the bright colours crackle across the sky, he froze. Standing on the other side of the square, one eye on the fireworks and every so often looking around herself, was the woman from inside his head. Someone yelled a New Year’s greeting at her, and she became distracted by them, laughing and calling back with a sweet smile. Ned wanted to make a break for it, but he couldn’t, almost like he was rooted to the spot: his mouth went dry and his heart began racing. He felt a million things; unbridled joy the likes of which he didn’t think he’d ever felt in his life, he felt sick, fearful, that dread from before panged in him for just a minute at the knowledge that any second she was bound to look his way and her life would be over… She turned back to the fireworks, via sweeping the crowd once more and Ned knew she’d spotted him by the way she immediately froze as he had. But she’d missed him because she was looking at the sky by the time this happened. He watched her swallow hard, and say something to herself. Ned wondered if she was feeling all this emotion as he was; and he definitely saw the fear cross her face as for a moment she turned sheet white, before she blinked and turned herself slowly back to him. When his eyes locked with yours Ned Kendall felt his breath leave him - and he struggled to take a new one. He thought he knew what love felt like; he’d fallen in it before. But that feeling suddenly ran through his body multiplied exponentially. Your lips parted, and you smiled gently. How long had you been waiting for this moment? Even before you’d figured out he was your Soulmate… you’d been waiting for the man who was staring at you from across the square to walk into your life since you’d first brought him to life on paper. And suddenly there he was. Real.   

***  

Ned blinked hard to snap himself out of the trance before, looking both ways to check he wasn’t about to crash into anyone, he took a deep breath (that it hurt slightly to take) and crossed to you. He was taller than you’d expected, though you didn’t really have that much comparison or frame of reference. Built exactly like you saw him in your head, and - apparently as customary - his shirt was very dark navy, top few buttons undone; as if he wasn’t already pretty easy on the eye. And you realised that you were about to find the answer to the biggest mystery of all: what his name was.

He stopped just in front of you, not exactly sure how close he should get. If you were both having the same sort of visions, then there was already a comfortable level of familiarity you should have with each other. And yet, this was the first time you were meeting. Which was the most appropriate? He immediately laughed, scratching the back of his head and then running a hand through those curls. You paid attention to this, to how large his hands really were; you’d not really got a good idea of that in images either. How your hands were going to look so tiny in his. “I guess you’re her… The girl of my dreams.” And you weren’t sure if he meant that literally or, just because he’d been dreaming about you the way you had him. You blushed gently, but he smiled sincerely, “Oh. Well. I’m Ned Kendall and this is really awkward-!” You giggled a little, responding in kind, “I’m Y/N. This is amazing - you’re… you’re real!” Ned too chuckled, and his eyes traced your body, damn near respectfully, as if he was checking that you were every bit as faultless as he remembered you. This was beyond something like a fantasy come to life: “You are too… I’ve written you for so long and you’re standing right here.” You gasped gently, “Oh, you’re a writer?!”  Clearly you’d never heard of him. Ned wasn’t sure he wasn’t actually glad of that, now he could guide your reading a little! Introduce you to his best work first. His nod was fairly confident, although his smile was a little bashful, “Yeah. And you…?” You rummaged around in your bag for a moment, and produced a fairly small sketchbook. It wasn’t that you thought you’d forget what he looked like, but almost that you could prove to him this was meant to be. You flicked through the pages to one of your favourites, even with how quick it was and turned it around to him. “I’m an artist.” He held his hand out, blue eyes wide and curious, “May I?” You nodded, relinquishing it to him, and Ned began to scroll through your work. Drawings they might have been, but it was just like looking in a mirror. “Wow… I’m as in your head as you’re in mine, huh?” “If you’d ever set foot in my gallery then…” You trailed off, “Wait, if you write - about me - then?” “Oh, yeah, you’re- you’re out there on bookshelves right now.” He shut your sketchbook and handed it back over, “You’re… an incredible artist.” You immediately blushed, “I mean I wish I’d have read your work before now. So then I could return the compliment. But now my visions make sense. You’re not… looking at love letters, you’re writing… novels.” He nodded slowly, but grinned, “Love letters is romantic though - and I could do that. If that’s what you wanted!” You laughed, that sound he’d heard so often but now got to experience in real life, “I’m… somewhat of an idealistic romantic. And I guess you can tell that by the way I’ve been looking for you all evening.” Ned didn’t dare tell you that his notion was the exact opposite, “Well. We found each other. Exactly like they say in all those interviews.” “Yes!” Then your eyes widened too, “YES! Oh my goodness, it’s just- it’s just like they say-! That’s crazy-! This is really happening and… it’s all true!” That excitement was back on your face, and Ned found it unbelievably adorable. His head tilted, and you caught that mischievous glint in his eyes: the one you liked so much. You wondered what was coming. His teeth sank into his bottom lip for a second as he mulled his question over, eyes flicking to your lips; “Well I feel like this could be too soon, but if we’re Soulmates then… I don’t know about you but, I kinda… I feel like I know you.” You nodded, absolutely knowing exactly what he was feeling; in fact, you were literally the only person in the world who knew precisely what he was talking about right now. “And I’d like to kiss?” Ned watched your expression change to intrigue, from fairly soft to sly, your eyes narrowed and you almost gave him a smirk. “Well, I’m glad one of us voiced it first.” Ned was curious, that wasn’t an expression he’d ever seen from you in his dreams, you were always happy sure, but this smile was new to him. Even when his visions were at their sexiest this wasn’t a look on your face. He realised there was still so much to learn; but with the rush that almost-smirk made him feel, he knew he was looking forward to learning. Ned didn’t move particularly slow, but he supposed you’d both been waiting for this for roughly the same amount of time, arms sliding around your waist he pulled your body into his, leaning down and closing his eyes to capture your lips. He already knew what you looked like: now he wanted to experience you for the first time. The taste of your kiss was exquisite and he didn’t even notice liquor; heck you really had been out here trying to find him all night. There was the faint hint of something - but he thought that might just be your lip balm. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling through his curls and both of you made the same hum. Synergy, perhaps? He wasn’t exactly sure if there was a *click* and the world stopped spinning and this weird feeling went away - why did the people on TV never talk about the important things? He wondered if the kiss was so good because you were his Soulmate, or because in reality he really had been waiting so long for this. Ned’s tongue ran yours teasingly and you weren’t about to let him be the only playful one here; drawing him closer and carding your nails over his scalp; Ned shivered. And all he could think for a moment was kissing you like this with you beneath him in the sheets - where he could trail these kisses all over your body. To hear more than just a gentle hum out of you. The kiss was certainly confident - and you supposed neither of you had to hold back; there was no need to ask where this was going. You knew exactly where this was going - to the end of the world. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a keen rush of excitement through you. This was beyond finally finding someone; this was finding the someone. But his lips were soft, and he was gentle even when he was playful. You wondered what Ned Kendall was thinking; and you wondered a lot of other things too - you’d certainly need to pick up a novel or two of his… You wanted to know him. You wanted him to know you, better than you knew yourself. There was no thought in your head of slowing down. You didn’t have to think like that anymore. You both pulled back, taking deep breaths. The fireworks were still going, and the illuminated colours on his face highlighted all those smooth lines and those cheekbones that you loved drawing so much. Much better in person… You bit your lips together, savouring the feeling of his still on them. You were a little flushed, but your eyes were bright as you looked back at him - loving that confident little smile on his face. Ned had been the first one to voice the kiss, and you wondered if he would mind you voicing taking this further than that. What he might think of you for doing so. As if you were moving too fast? There was only one way to find out, and you mirrored the smile you saw; “Whaaat if we did more than just kiss?” Then, to make sure you explained why you’d be the kind of person to jump into bed with a man you’d just met (because you certainly weren’t that type and didn’t want to give that impression.) - “Ned, I feel like I already know you better than if we’d been on a bunch of dates.” Your eyes were almost pleading him, “I would never normally do this but… this isn’t normal. Is it? I just- Of course this feels right, but it feels so right. I have never felt like this and even though I know why… I want to follow what I feel. And I… I want you.” There were a few seconds pause as his bright blue eyes looked between yours, but there was absolutely no hesitation in his gaze. He was perfectly happy with following your suggestion. In fact, Ned chuckled a little as he nodded; “Ha, funnily enough I was just heading home. And we would literally only have to walk.” He waved in a vague direction. You couldn’t help but grin, so he had been in the city all along, “Sounds perfect!” Ned held his hand out for yours and you couldn’t help but eagerly take it, then wrap yourself around his arm. This seemed a little crazy and reckless, even if he was The One. But it was a New Year, that old ‘new beginnings’ cliche. And you’d found yours - why not get a little reckless? Ned couldn’t help but look at you as he began walking you back to his apartment, he liked you already. After all the worrying he’d done to Sally, Ned saw he’d needn’t have done any of it. But part of him couldn’t believe that you were up for this already. As you walked plenty of people also heading home from their New Year’s parties wished you a good night, and yelled holiday greetings. From couples who looked seriously loved up, to groups of drunk friends spilling all over the street, to couples who looks a little nervous to be together - Ned would reckon they were as new as you. And yet, also realised that it was highly unlikely any of them were what the two of you were - and certainly didn’t realise what they were witnessing. There was no neon sign. No giant arrow to say ‘They’re Soulmates!’, not another person on earth knew you’d met up tonight - even if you’d both talked about each other before… Ned held your hand a little tighter; no-one was taking you from him now - that only made you snuggle a little more into his arm. Suddenly he smirked in realisation; ‘Holy shit, this is going to be a normal New Year’s for me… A normal night out!’ His eyes flicked to you, ‘I’m gonna end up with a gorgeous woman in my bed, only this one is destined to stay.’

 ***

As you entered the lobby of his apartment building your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. You’d never felt desire like this before, but you also felt so nervous. There were still so many ‘what ifs’ and you were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together. What if Ned didn’t like what he saw, what if you didn’t? What if when you told him all about you, he pushed you away… What if he had so many secrets, one that matched the haunted look on his face you saw once too often in your dreams. You shook the thought away - you couldn’t think like that. One step at a time. You could worry about your forever in the morning, right now you kinda wanted him to shove you against the back of the lift; to hell with making it to his bed. He weaved you through those leaving the penthouse parties, carrying their heels and half-finished bottles of champagne. Shaking his head as he pushed the elevator button. “Typical New Year, huh?” “I guess not for us.” He laughed, watching them shriek as they stumbled over each other. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to making this a typical New Year.” You giggled, “Me either. But hopefully I won’t only find you at midnight next year.” His eyes flicked to yours, “Whatever’s meant to be.” You both laughed at the shared joke as the elevator pinged and more leavers spilled out. Ned dragged you in and pressed the button to his floor. The doors slid closed and, as the lift began moving, you were left in the quiet at last. He closed the gap between you; grabbing your chin between his thumb and his index finger Ned kissed you again. This one far harsher than the first, and you squeaked in surprise as he did push you against the wall. Oh, okay, this was going to go just the way you wanted it. And be far better than any fantasy. Ned’s hands roamed your body, and up into your hair as the kisses became hot, passionate, teasing. Every so often his touch caused you to groan into it, and you could feel him smirk - at least that gave you a good gauge of what he might like. Mind you, you were probably helping him on that front also. By the time the elevator slowed to a stop at his floor you were already halfway through the buttons on his shirt. He was reluctant to release you, and yet eager to get you back to his place, and lacing his fingers with yours once more, Ned ran you down the corridor. You couldn’t help but laugh - this felt so teenage romance, the same rush, the same quick whirlwind of no patience. Of wanting everything to happen right then and there. A little too excited Ned had to fumble with the keys a few times to actually get in, but once the door was open it was closed just as fast. His shirt didn’t take long to find the floor as once again his lips found yours. You ran your fingers over his warm, supple skin and received a few delightful hums of your own to keep. Your clothes didn’t take long to find the floor either, as he guided you back towards the bedroom, and you both left a trail. Your body threaded with his - and dare you say perfectly? - and your nervousness wore off. Only excitement remained, and the feeling that this could only be right. This was fate. It had pulled you together, and now you were getting your first opportunity to be one. Ned entwined your fingers, head tilted, he searched your face. He had all the time in the world to get to know you, to get to know your body, to be so in tune with you that all he could ever give you was pleasure. That might take a little bit of time - but it started tonight. And skin to skin, your body beneath his, Ned already knew you were gorgeous, and he was going to get lost in you. You’d found your ideal weight - that old joke of ‘him on top of you’ - but as you let your eyes glide down his body you noticed his chest was awash with freckles, and you wanted to kiss every single one of them before the night was through. Ned’s exploration of your form didn’t last too long, right now he only wanted to be inside you - and the desperation of it was his only thought. He had time, he’d apologise and he’d do you right, just not right now. He was compelled otherwise, and you didn’t seem to mind that - possibly because you were feeling the same thing. Damn Soulmates... Ned nearly chuckled, but was happy he could at least pull delightfully sinful sighs and moans from you as he tested that you were ready for him. As he pushed into you Ned realised that he was still looking into your eyes. Normally by now he’d have turned his bed mate over. But you… you he wanted to see, wanted to watch your emotional responses as they crossed your face. It’d never been like this… not with any girl. But here he was, and Ned actually wanted to look into your eyes… If he wasn’t careful, he’d be spilling I Love You’s before he was ready.  

***  

Ned woke naturally to the sunlight streaming through the window. Glancing at the clock, he was glad it wasn’t really that late in the day. His arm was still around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him, you moaned gently still not awake and cuddled yourself into his warmth as he kissed your shoulder. With his free hand Ned moved locks of hair out of your face and lay there quietly admiring you. How many times had you had sex last night? It all felt like a weird (magically induced) blur. So, he’d just call it innumerable, with a smug little smirk. Eventually you stirred, and you appreciated how much you were going to enjoy this when you woke up looking into his pretty blue eyes and realised that he wasn’t just a dream. Ned would never be just a vision in your head ever again. You couldn’t help but pull him into a delicate morning kiss. Sighing blissfully, you stretched your body out, propping yourself up on the pillows and smiling at him, your body ached a little - but it was a sweet ache and you didn’t mind too much at all. You spoke softly, almost dreamily, as you continued to stare into those beautiful eyes: “I know you’re made for me. And that I would feel like this no matter what, but… I’m glad he’s you. In my wildest dreams I didn’t ever think he’d be like you.” Somehow he was not only your Soulmate - the person you really had no choice but to be with; and you wouldn’t have thought that would happen if you weren’t at least compatible - Ned was still ticking all your boxes.  And you could threaten easily that you loved him for it. Ned bit his lips together, even though he’d been smiling. He still needed to confess to you, he wasn’t sure he could put you through this without beginning on the right foot. Even if it took a while to confide the whole truth, you had to know. He sighed gently, fingertips stroking down your back; “Look I’m not perfect, and you have a lot to learn and I kinda want to apologise in advance… if we’re really meant to be Soulmates. If this is really… THAT.” You tilted your head slightly, but all you did was smile mysteriously; “Well… so do you. But we’ll get though it together. We’re meant to, right?” You took his other hand, and kissed all his knuckles, and then his fingertips, “You’re not going to scare me away, Ned Kendall.” Besides, you’d seen what your future held. You wondered how much you should keep to yourself… you wondered how much he’d seen himself. How much Ned already knew without realising… diamonds and wearing white… You chose to believe these things could come true. Your time together could still only be measured in hours, but you already wanted these things with him. He chuckled, running his thumb over your lips, “I guess. But I do have one request. Unlike all those other Soulmates out there that share our fate… Can we please not go public with this thing?” At the look on your face Ned changed his track, “Not yet. I’m kinda ‘A Big Deal’.” You found that understandable, as a writer people knew his name and his work. You weren’t sure you wanted the world to know that you were part of the New Year’s Day Phenomena either. But it would be a little hard not to tell some people about it - your best friend already knew. And if your clientele saw him kicking around your gallery… You nodded in agreement, “Well Mr. Big Deal, I can’t wait to read... about me.” Ned continued to stroke his fingers down your back, with a smirk, as he rolled onto his side pressing his lips to yours, you accepted his kiss and stole another: “Well, I want to see how you draw me… and maybe I could pose for you. Like Rose and Jack.” You couldn’t help but scoff, before cackling, “Holy shit, a Titanic reference? I can’t believe you’d do that-!” “Terrible, I know. You’ll have to get used to this.” He grinned, affording you another kiss. “Mmm.” You hummed in agreement, “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” You looped your arms around his neck and let Ned pull you back on top of him, tangling your bodies together once more as you continued to deepen your kisses.

Right now it might only have been hours, but you could both see your future, soon it would be days, months, years… And maybe eventually you’d tell the world, and join all the Soulmates that came before you. Or perhaps you’d stay quiet, and just smirk at each other knowingly every time you stood and watched the New Year’s fireworks, or as another couple made the announcement on TV. Whatever it would be, it would be a joint decision. Once you were both ready. For now, you had the whole world in front of you. And you had to learn each other’s. But you couldn’t wait to explore together. Good and bad; and perhaps there was a lot in both your pasts… but you were Soulmates and now bound together by a force bigger than both of you. You would make it through. You weren’t sure you were going to give Ned Kendall the choice either way. And he certainly wouldn’t be giving you one. You belonged to each other now.

---

Thank you!!! Thank you for reading the final fic of 2020! Here’s to 2021! 🎉

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “In the Glass Tower.”

The continuation of Krill’s little story arc. I hope you enjoy it. :)

“And you let the creature come with you?” 

“He presented a logical argument that I felt I couldn’t refuse.”

“This is not his business.”

“It involves his species, so arguably it is.” “This is not for the sake of argument.”

“I think maybe you should watch yourself. Emotion seems to be clouding your judgement.”

….

….

“Psychologist, is this your opinion as well.”

“He is a…. Fascinating specimen, both of them. They play off each other like the two points in a binary star system the one influencing the other but neither taking precedence.” 

“I did not ask for poetic rhetoric, psychologist, I asked for your assessment.”

“You might have to be more specific, for that was my assessment.”

“Is he or is he not fit to live.”

“I think you will find that decision isn’t as easily made as you think it is. I spoke with the human at great length on the subject, and it….. He provided me with a very interesting take on the changes we have seen with the doctor.”

“We don’t care about the the observations of a human.”

“Well you should because the observation was astute and thought provoking. I think we, as Vrul, tend to be blinded by our supposed superiority and forget that other species have the ability to think logically the humans being the most flexible-minded in the known universe. Will I be permitted to continue.”

…

“Go on then, let’s hear it.”

“He is under the assumption that every change that we have seen in the doctor is an adaptive behavior to surviving with humans.”

“And how is aggression supposed to be adaptive?”

“You see, that was the interesting part. Humans communicate a measure of their hierarchical structure though aggression. Now if an authority figure is to give you a position in the hierarchy you may not have to be aggressive, but for the doctor, he was placed in a position of power by a human that sometimes refuses to listen. By appearing both concerned and aggressive at the same time he forces the other humans to listen to him therefore placing himself in a very high position within the social hierarchy. Many of the tiny movements that he makes is an adaptive way to show HUMANS that he is worthy of the position he holds. We see it as aggressive,  they see it as confidence, or in certain cases anger and annoyance. Often times, humans do not understand that something is important unless it has a level of emotion attached to it. If i were to calmly walk into a room and tell the humans that there is a fire and they need to get out, they would be much less likely to respond promptly than if I ran in screaming about it. On the same line, the doctor must behave in an aggressive and angry manner in order to convince the others that his opinions are important and require a certain measure of….. Focus from his companions.

“That is a very convoluted and strange way to look at things.”

“But it is the functioning of a human ship. The Doctor has not lost his ability to be Vrul, but he has proven his adaptive nature.”

“He has proven, that his interest lies outside the furtherment of our species, and therefore is no longer of use.” 

“I disagree.”

“We will see what the doctor has to say for himself.

***

It felt like a lifetime since Dr Krill had seen the horizons of his own planet, a ruddy sort of orange on the surface, the air fed by carbon producing lifeforms. The city was as he remembered it, an unchanging slab of white built in the most uniform of circles. with uniform buildings rising only to the height of three or four stories crossed between with long lines of wire. High walls encircled the entire perimeter isolating the interior from the outside world. Down in the city, the walls were so high that you had to crane your neck back simply to see the top. The council said it reduced the sunlight, but it was an acceptable measure in order to keep out the rest of the world.

Krill thought it was kind of ironic, almost funny. They had built a wall to keep out the world, but it was never high enough to keep out what had really come, it hasn't been high enough to keep out the cosmos, or the wars, or different ideologies that had fallen in from the galaxy.

In their fear  they had tried to wall themselves off but ended up opening themselves up to the universe with open arms practically begging others to come in and cause them danger.

There were only thirteen cities on this planet, all of them ranged along the equator where the Vrul could best live. There had been thirteen for as long as anyone could remember, and in those thirteen cities there was just enough genetic diversity to keep a bottleneck event from occurring and annihilating the genetic diversity in the population.

In their fear they made the way they lived even more dangers, if there was more of them, more diversity more of them in the galaxy, than they would never have to worry about dying off.. By keeping their species isolated on this planet, they were threatening their entire species with mass extinction from a planet wide catastrophe. 

He wondered if anyone else had thought of that.

He had never seen outside the city accept from above of course. He had seen hundreds of worlds, walked on earth with impunity, braved blizzards and asteroid fields, but he had still never seen his own planet. It was some kind of cruel twisted humor. He wasn’t entirely sure what species were even native here, other than the screllings that flew just beyond the wall perimeter repelled by force fields so as not to cause trouble.

Of course the way he described the city probably did not convey just how large it was. One one hundredth of the massive white circle was taken up by the landing field, large enough to hold Commander Vir’s ship a hundred times over than then some. They landed there and were escorted onto the platform.

He was surrounded almost completely by a wall of four Delta’s and their beta handlers. 

Walking down from the ship and onto the white stone, surrounded on all sides by watching eyes, he almost didn’t notice the distinct thud thud thud, of human feet on the metal behind him. He turned his head sharply making the deltas shy away instinctively and the betas to glare at him with some trepidation.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when The Commander smiled at him from a few rows back. If Krill had thought a contingent of four deltas was flattering on his person, the human had amassed an entire squad of them. Surrounded on all sides very nervous eyes, and hopefully, steady trigger fingers.

“How in the hell did you manage to get here.” He said over the heads of his captors, incredulous.

The human shrugged at him, “Oh you know, used my ever present charm to talk my way onto the ship like a civilized person.” 

“Well that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.” 

He was dragged away before he could say anything else. Tough his presence hadn’t caught the eye of the other Vrul, the presence of a human sure had. It had been a long time since a human last set foot in the city. The last person that had come was the Commander himself, when he was still an unknown player.

He had saved a child from drowning.

Once upon a time the humans had stirred and entire city of the least curious species into curiosity, but years and years of rumors, stories, and intergalactic propaganda had fanned the fire of their fears, and made something which was once so curious into something that was no more than a vicious rumors and a midnight creature.

They caught many expressions of wary apprehensions as they walked past escorted down the way and past the hatching factories, and the deltas going about their business urged on by their beta masters. Vapid and tireless kappas lined the streets with their menial tasks going on as they always had with precision and perfection only to be stopped by the glimpse of the human.

They walked on making their way past lines and lines of residence halls, over one small sector of the city before the thoroughfare opened up before them to reveal a wide white building with a spiraling tower that reached towards the sky. It was honestly the only ostentatious thing in the entier city, and they made the excuse that it was only logical to make the center of government the most obvious thing in the city. It was a symbol of power and control to those down below, and should be looed up at on all occasions to remind everyone what they were working so hard to achieve.

Krill bet you could see over the wall from the very top, where the glass windows allowed in great streams of light to bathe the council in glorious nutrition from their sun.

While the workers down below fought for the light at various times of day.

They were escorted onto the first floor of the tower, and that is where the human was led away escorted by his platoon looking over his shoulder at krill who was led towards a tall shaft at the center of the room. Those around him inflated their hydrogen sacks and he did the same, and together, with the help of a light towing cable, they were dragged up many floors to the tower, and into a brightly lit antechamber with big glass windows on one half of the circular room.

He had been right before, you could see over the walls and out onto the vast expanse of orange plant file that covered everything from horizon to horizon. He saw a flock of something out there, but couldn't have said what it was. He thought he even saw the silhouette of something very tall and very slender pass over the horizon, but if vanished before he could get a better look.

“The council will see you now.” A beta assistant said, ushering him through the doors and into the waiting room.

It was large and circular raised over the antechamber by a few feet to give the room a 360 degree view of the city and the surrounding landscape. From here the workers and the Vrul below were nothing more than earth ants scuttling about their dirt pile.

Around the room, the council floated in their places at the perfect distance from each other. They came in most of the expected colors for a Vrul, brown almost black, and grey both light and dark, one of them was so light it might have been mistaken for white if seen in a dark room, with nothing as comparison. 

All of them were alphas, that was easy to tell, the best in stock of their species, perfectly formed, extremely keen, and unerringly arrogant. He had figured that last one out by himself, mostly with some self introspection and a couple of loud-mouth humans pointing it out. It was kind of the hallmark of being an alpha, thinking that you are better than anything else and knowing that it was probably true.

Of course, the real issue came when you were thrown into a world where intelligence and personality wasn’t so straight forward. A human that you, at first, might have thought was an idiot, could come back a second later and best you in a game of wit without so much as raising a finger, and going around to announce how great you were, was suddenly less appealing of an option. 

They stared at him with silent impunity.

There were a few more there as well, one he recognized as the psychologist who had looked over his case, as well as the ship’s captain and a few other experts. He didn’t now them, judging by the look of them many were young. The average Vrul didn’t make it very long before the council deemed their productive output to be lacking.

If this was earth, that fact might just warrant a protest.

“Doctor Krill, Alpha of the undefined levels, step forward to face the council.” he did as requested, though ever fiber in his body had to resist the urge to snark at them.

“We have been monitoring your behavior for a while now, and we are displeased to say that we have not liked what we have seen.”

Krill remained rather silent.

“We had hoped when you were born, that you might prove to be of more use to the populace than you ended up being. You were very promising. Never had we seen a Vr With such advanced aptitude scores as you. You broke our testing systems and played about them like they were no more than simple riddles. Ou were originally intended for government? Do you remember that?”

‘My memory of those days is ... fuzzy at best.”

“A vrul always has their path chosen for them . We do not get to decide what we become, because it is not in our best judgement to make that decision when we cannot see the whole picture. Even as a grub you were particularly headstrong and difficult. The day that you were to begin your training with the political assemblage, you vanished, only to find you hours later wide and and fawning at the medical academy. By the tie it happened the damage had been done, one of our best minds lost to a scientific iled instead of the political one that kept us all safe.

Krill remained very silent, he had not heard this story before.

He hardly remembered any of this.

“”There were some who suggested terminating you on the spot from deviating against your original course, but with your potential we could not let that stand…. Another student was removed from your place, so that we could maintain the controlled population plan that we had original set out to keep.” Krill’s insides went cold. Once upon a time a revelation like that would not have surprised him, but after living with the humans for so long, soaking up their ideals, it was different to think any other way. Someone had been terminated for a rash decision he had made so long ago.

He had always fancied himself to be a level-headed rational being, but it seemed that that was not the case. He had just been comparing himself to humans.

“We watched you flourish in the medical career, and it seemed, for a time, that you would fulfill a purpose. You brought new techniques to the table, and more lives were saved, but then the medical field proved not to be enough for you. All of a sudden we are getting questions challenging the way things have been done for thousands of years. Why don't we try this, why don’t we try that. Why does it matter how many resources we use. Then you become the first Vrul to insist they are transferred off-world. Even then! We could stand it, despite your illegal forrays into journal publishing and development of new techniques.”

Outside the sun had curved down over the far side of the room throwing light across the floor.

“And then the humans came along, and what do you do, you up and quit your position without any prior warning, without speaking to the council, and you sign off with a human ship as a human doctor. The last hundred cycles you have spent with them making absolutely no contribution to our society. In act you have proven to be a great drain on the council, and your personal behavior has  caused a stir among the general populace. Maybe this all would have gone away had you not made yourself so public, but instead you go galavanting around with the one creature in the entire galaxy that has everyone’s eyes trained on him.”

Krill watched the floor as their shadows crept towards him 

“Your psychological tests have shown an extreme deviation from normality, and your behavior is so excessively individualistic that you have proven no interest for the furtherment of your species….. What have you to say to yourself.”

“You’re wrong.”

“What did you say.”

“I said you’re wrong.”

“And what proof do you have of this.”

Kril Moved to open his mouth and retort, but a shocked gasp from around the room cut him off.

“He has me.

[patchdotexe]

Explorers of Arvus: uhhhh / 3.23.21

today's notes are different from usual bc. well. you'll see

LAST TIME ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS i broke my sleep schedule and am barely existing so this is fine. we went back to camp vengeance an uhhhhhhhhhhhh we are now going to fuck off into the forest to die or prove a very important point

oh god we forgot to level up

[mgd voice] BOOSTING NYX TO MAXIMUM LEVEL

im so fuckin tired. what on earth am i doing. how do i level again

k is not here this time but instead we've got mae+nii bonking their heads together to simulate 2 braincells and so far it is not working. i might just have to like fuckin, drop out n zzz partway thru or somethin. would be fun to see how chaotic michael makes charlie in my absensce

oh wait i can do d&dbeyond i think. how do i work this again. will i ever remember i have shield

what level am i. level 6? pog. oh shit i think i have a new thing

. new spell

. 3 total 3rd level spell slots

. bend luck! i can now screw people over on purpose (and will probably use my sorcery points FINALLY)

michael is leveling charlie up bc my brain is apple sos

ASDXFKLJFH I FEEL CALLED OUT zec rb'd my most recent art of MaX with "all i know about xem is that leo likes xem a lot that's the extent of my knowledge" THANK U FOR SUPPORTIN ME ANYWAY

there will be less blaseball distractions than last time bc blaseball is now on siesta. however i will still have MaX brainrot in the background bc i was drawing xem

wyatt mason my beloved

OKAY I GOTTA MUTE THE TACO STAND FOR THE ENTIRETY OF D&D i cannot and will not get distracted. we can do this. we

nintendo wii

we havent even started yet and im already incoherent

ok i have made a decision and that decision is that i do not have the brainpower to play. however i do have the brianpower to take notes hopefully! so ill just like. vibe. this will be a first

oh man im gonan pick up Blink. charlie is gonna be a fucking menace to herself and others

oh my god its not concentration so charlie may continue teleporting while unconscious. thorne is going to hate this

[charlie gets her soul eaten by a ring] [charlie singing dragonston din tei at halvkWAIT JORB HAS A PRIZE

jorb got a thing! an evil genius thing! figure man. fugrine. figuring. help

GREEN HAS DIAGNOSED ME AS TIGREX MONSTERHUNTER i love this

my notes are a disaster. this is so sucks

serotonin is stored in the wiggly zoomy jorb camera

jorb: his pinky is the size of the rest of his fingers

leo: he has a disease

jorb: he has a disease.

jorb: that disease is male pattern baldness

leo: [reduced to tearful giggling for mysterious reasons]

LAST TIME, ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS: we've returned to camp vengeance! taure is still unconscious, which is not very great. camp vengeance is doin better tho!

michael, as part of the recap: ingrid is getting railed by her new girlfriend,

first dice roll of the day is michael rolled a 1. good start

OH THORNE IS AN ARTIFICER NOW thorne took a level in artificer!

"...it's like figuring out the right mathematical equation to summon a gun."

group is gonna go check out the statue that we passed by now that we're not WHAT DO YOU MEAN PONK AND GEORGE CANONICALLY HAVE IBS thats it im not looking at 772 anymore

im doing a bad job of paying attention but at least im Present

SIERON LEARNED FLY AND USED IT ON CHARLIE

michael: what do you want to do with your new flying powers?

leo: how many problems can i cause in 10 minutes

guard 1: ...why is the halfling flying?

guard 2: [rolls a 3 on intelligence] i think they can just do that

groundhogs, the real scourge of the campaign

silje and sieron are gonna hunt a big elk. they got distracted and sieron is putting grass on silje's head. i think

WAIT WE'RE ON WATCH NOW FUCK

we have discovered kali's tragic backstory whoops

update i am. too sleepy for this. good nigh everyone

[ and then leo went and somewhat took a nap! solar, normally playing thorne, started playing charlie in my stead. @jorbs-palace, local hero, started taking shitpost notes in my stead. ]

jorb's ghostwritten notes for leo:

help solar is immediately doing a cursed voice for charlie. charlie can do so many crimes

congratulations, charlie is now temporarily immortal!

dwarves can hit things with their beard

kali wants to know if she's legally allowed to bail

she'd feel really bad if she had to loot our corpses for payment if we died.

we have entered the Tree Zone

one of the corpses is now a flamingo (has one leg)

silje has decided to stab the ground. take that, dirt

kali was large size for a second there but then she remembered to not be a giant

"you accidentally deleted my cat?!"

silje has learned naruto cloning jutsu

be gone, thot

oh boy, making an int check to look at a statue! 11! silje is dumb apparently.

hmm. the statue has divination magic. it's also affecting silje.

SILJE LEARNED A 6TH LEVEL SPELL? its only single use but still

you solved my statue riddllllleeeee

thorne forgot to have eyes

its a shame mac and cheese doesnt exist in the d&d universe

wizards are just math criminals (the criminal part is setting people on fire)

sieron crit fails a check but it was still a 9 because of having +8

thorne is looking for what's weird!

uh oh music got scary, never a good sign

hmm. those leaves over there weren't dead a moment ago.

UNDEAD TROLL TIME! rolling initiative

"it's ok, im a wizard, it's my duty to be correct." "wow! waow!"

woooah here he comes

IT JUST DID HALF SIERON'S HEALTH AS A PASSIVE END OF TURN EFFECT?

thorne backed up and cast eldri- oh, ray of enfeeblement. character development continues

charlie is going to just blink out of existence for a minute.

big chungus has grabbed silje and sieron. BIG CHUNGUS HAS THROWN SILJE AND SIERON.

sieron is using hit and run tactics! isn't good at his extra attack yet though

silje is activating bid bid blood blood blood

thorne uses beam of skipping your leg day. troll's legs are now skipped.

michael is trying to determine what a 'clavicle' is

"does that mean the star trek kind, or the bdsm kind?"

charlie wants to cast magic missile.

charlie has vanished back into the ethereal plane mid-taunt

silje has decided to not get bitten today

silje may or may not have stats.

oh, right, trolls are weak to fire! and also we forgot to upgrade sieron's firebolt. so it actually hurts now!

silje is full of knives and blades and does 31 damage in one turn!

charlie shouts words of encouragement from the ethereal plane. a nearby ghost vibes with this.

🎉 eldritch blast 🎉

kali remembered she hates the sun

silje is enthuasiatic about charlie saying "get him cat boy!"

charlie contemplating using fireball to nuke the troll and also the entire stonehenge

charlie has decided to use magic missile instead, probably for the best

the troll bit at charlie SO POORLY it broke some of its teeth on the ground

charlie is too small to hit

accidentally rolled advantage on a firebolt, so got to learn it WOULD have done 29 damage with a crit but instead it missed because it was not actually with advantage

silje has just sliced open its entire back and made a spray of frozen blood! radical. big boy is down!

we have burned the body because we are not stupid. well, we ARE stupid, but not stupid in the way of leaving a body full of necrotic magic around

[dr coomer voice] i think it's good that he died!

we're also doing a funeral pyre for the other corpses that were around. just to be sure.

our loot is: the satisfaction of a job well done

thorne is cosplaying as charlie

charlie has located the direction troll came from! she found the 'the way to sweet loot' sign

thorne is apparently better at survival checks than our hired guide? wack

we found a viking house! it has: mead, a shield, gravestones,

found a gold coin in the mead! maybe it was thirsty

oh theres a LOT Of coins in there actually. 60 gold and 120 silver!

have successfully pointed out a hole in the DM's logic :)

there was a raven! it cawed and left. ok bye buddy

and that's where we leave it! heading back to camp vengeance next time.

someone rated this session a 7.2 out of 10, which is very specific

good night mr coconut

[somanyfuckingdrinks]

OC-Tober: Day 9; Mentor

hey! i’m late and starting on day 9- i’m still working on previous days and i’ll be posting links to them (on archive) here in the next week as i finish them <3

all my prompts for this year are from @oc-growth-and-development !

i’ll put the link here for anyone who’d rather read on AO3 

for this prompt, i decided to give y’all an introduction to my favorite friendship in the universe: camila and grant

camila has been going to grant’s coffeeshop for years, she becomes his “apprentice” after high school (with the help of certain connections ;) ), and four years later here we are after months of a pandemic

yes this takes place in the pandemic; no i did not think two years ago it would

here it is <3 =)

my mentor in americanos and strawberry scones

october 1, 2020

The long winded whir of the coffee machine downstairs stirred Grant awake. His eyes cracked open to the still darkness of the odd quiet atmosphere surrounding him. He looked over to Summer noticing that she was still asleep. He looked over to the clock. He was confused at his wife’s slumber, knowing she’d be up knitting by now. The red animosity of 4:27 A.M made him groan inwardly, realizing exactly why that was. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes tiredly. 

Grant sat up slowly, as to not disturb his peaceful wife. He slipped his feet into his worn slippers and rose up slowly, all the creaks and pops making his age known to the room. He grabbed his cardigan from the bedpost, slipping it on and making his way into the living room. He grabbed his phone from the kitchen island, the bright light suddenly blinding him.

He moved his face away from the light, bringing his hand to his eyes once again to rub at them. He sighed, whispering a curse to whoever made him wake up this early. He moved to sit in one of the barstools, making sure he was comfortable before dealing with the new day’s nonsense.

Blinking his eyes open to readjust, he turned the screen back on. A slew of messages popped into focus. Several from his insufferable granddaughter, one about a pesky neighbor from his own daughter, and multiple from the cafe’s order website. No cheerful greetings and “hi, how are you”s; not even from his own family. He exhaled exasperatedly. He decided to ignore the messages, and scroll quickly to his game. 

The soft padding of footsteps outside the door disrupted his peaceful round of Sudoku. However, as quick as the footsteps on the landing appeared, they vanished. He frowned towards the door, but made his way off the bar stool, closing his abandoned game.

The door creaked open, the lock on it blocking most of his vision. Through the crack he could see two medium sized cups and a plate of steaming pastries on the accent table outside the door. He peered to the right and saw a flash of a ponytail waiting at the bottom steps. He unlatched the lock and opened the door, glimpsing at his employee. Upon seeing him step out onto the front step, she pulled herself from the doorjamb, making her way towards the back of the kitchen. 

He moved back over to the table to investigate the goodies. A note was attached to the to-go cups and the plate was stacked with several scones. Strawberry. Grant read the note carefully.

“morning grant! sorry to wake you up if i did. It’s the loyals delivery day, so i thought i’d come in early to start up packaging and stuff. monty and peyton will be here around 5 to start sending them out. i brought up your americano and summer’s ginger tea. p.s the scones are fresh :)”

He smiled at the note before putting it on the plate. Grabbing the cup holder and plate of scones, he pushed his way back into the compact living space. He placed the plate down near the fridge, along with the tea. He pocketed the note, grabbed the coffee and a scone, and made his way back out of the door. He closed the door behind him, taking a sip of the hot drink in his hand. He made a little grimace at the taste and chuckled. He started his way down the steps.

When he reached the bottom step, he glanced at the scene in front of him. The kitchen was a bustle. Boxes were lined up along the front counter, their contents clearly placed in a specifically organized way. Little bags of candy, mason jars of an amber liquid, and sheets of tissue paper were piled next to even more cardboard boxes. The espresso machine sat dormant, but looked freshly wiped down and tidy. The beans and fridges looked restocked. The chairs were still stacked high on the tables, but there was no change there over the past few months. The space was calm, even with the natural flurry in the middle of it.

Camila took a sip from the metal straw, the ice clinking against glass and metal. She set the drink down, grabbing another box. She crumpled a cluster of tissue together and placed it at the bottom. She wrapped a jar of apple cider in a couple spins of tissue, setting it gently in the corner of the box at a diagonal. She placed two bags of assorted candy against the glass, then made her way over to the pastry counter. She picked out three packaged pastries at random and set them haphazardly in front of the candy. She stuck the special note card in the other corner of the box before grabbing the industrial tape. She sealed the box twice, swiftly pinning the address and cafe logo onto the box, running the tape over that as well. She let out a sigh as she gingerly shoved the box to the side. 

Grant took tiny sips from his coffee as he watched her repeat the process a handful of times before setting the cup down. He took a bite of his scone finally deciding to announce his presence.

“For someone who’s worked here for four years, you still can’t make an Americano.”

Camila jumped, dropping the newly picked up mason jar onto the counter with a loud thunk. She turned around, suddenly startled. Her shock turned into a quick scowl before grabbing her coffee glass again, forgetting about her packaging task.

“How long have you been standing there?!” She hissed, the scowl easing back into a smaller frown.

“Long enough. How many boxes you got there?” Grant walked over to the full counter, starting to count before she could respond. He didn’t pay attention to the number in his head.

“About fourteen. I was just finishing up Ms. Crabtree’s box before you so rudely interrupted.” She aimed the glare at her boss, setting her cup down on the cold marble. Grant peeked over at the extra item in the box. A small bundle of pet treats that he knew she probably made when she first got here this morning.

“Ah. The old woman asking for pet treats for her Snookums again?” He let out a light chuckle.

Camila only nodded. She moved toward the pastries again, this time grabbing two snickerdoodles and one chocolate croissant for the picky old lady. She laid them neatly in the box, pulling back to grab the tape again. 

Grant looked on to his former mentee with an appreciative smile. She had come a long way from tripping over air and focusing on only one task at a time. Now she was packaging specific likes for customers who had been coming here for longer than she was alive. He remembered a small eighteen year old, still unsure of who she was but knowing where she wanted to go. Now a grown woman with her head placed firmly on her shoulders stood in front of him, still trying to hide the easy smile behind a fake frown. Still the ever dramatic child she was at heart.

“Once you’re done there I want to go over how to make an Americano again, since you still don’t have the proportions right. Preferably before Dumb and Dumber get here.” Grant pulled his cardigan around him, hearing the tape pass over the box. Camila just kept closing the box.

“Please. You can come back to being a gold star employee later. I need to make fun of you a little bit while I still can. Lillian will clobber me if she knows how much I’ve made fun of you.” He said hurriedly. It was a known truth. His granddaughter would kick his ass for the years of teasing he made the ‘love of her life’ endure. The tape made one final whoosh over the box.

Camila made a show of rolling her eyes, setting the tape down to the side. She made her way over to the espresso machine and crossed her arms. When Grant didn’t move, she waved her arm out towards the machine, annoyed but now letting a smile show.

Grant moved towards the espresso machine, making quick work of removing the portafilter* and flushing the grouphead*. He wiped the filter down before stepping slightly over to the coffee grinder. Making sure to go at a teasingly slow pace, he filled the bowl, leveled it, and grabbed the tamper*. He tamped the grounds to make a puck*, looking over to see Camila still watching attentively, and promptly wiping the excess off the sides.

Camila made a grab for the filter, but Grant pulled his arm away out of her reach. He locked it back into the grouphead and hit start. The machine came to life quickly, the deep whir louder than it was earlier.

“Grant. I know how to make an espresso shot,” Camila huffed out.

“I know you do. Just like you know how to make everything else in here. I’m just showing you the whole process, like old times,” right then the machine stopped and the smell of fresh caffeine hit his nostrils. He grabbed the small cup and made his way over to the serving station. Luckily, Camila was right behind him with the boiling water.

He noticed the small smirk she held had disappeared into a bittersweet smile.

“It hasn’t been that long. Besides it’s not like I’m going anywhere,” she turned towards him, sure of her words. He only nodded, causing her to turn away. “I’ll still be here tomorrow to make fun of too,” she partially muttered. He slapped her arm lightly, letting out a croaky laugh.

“I know Mila. I know.” 

A peaceful silence fell over them as Grant poured the hot espresso over the perfectly proportioned water. He put the cup on a saucer and pushed it over towards Camila. She carefully grabbed the edge of the cup, bringing it to her lips. She blew on it and took a small sip, then gently placed the cup back down. She let out a small sound of approval, nodding her head vigorously. She stared at the cup’s contents.

“Yeah no, that tastes exactly like when I make it.” Grant gave her a look. “Okay maybe a tad bit less bitter, but overall it’s the same thing.” She gave him a look right back.

Incidentally, a soft knock at the front brought both of their attentions to the windowed door. Monty and Peyton stood out front, hugging themselves from the chilly wind out front. Monty simply waved through the door, his eyes hinting at his normally goofy grin on his face behind the mask. Peyton sported her signature uncaring look, the mask hiding her scowl, even more uncaring due to the cold temperatures. Grant nodded in the door’s direction, Camila immediately pacing to the door, pulling her mask over her face, to open it for their helpful volunteers.

Grant pulled his mask from his cardigan’s pocket, pulling it on as the door swung open. He grabbed two cups and two bags of black tea that were to the left of him. He shifted back over to the serving station with the hot water in hand. He prepped the tea bags and poured the water over them, the color seeping immediately into the clear water. He secured the lids on top and pushed them towards the boxes.

Camila had already started going down the list of customers and their respective addresses on their walk over to the counter. The mask made her slow down her average lecturing speed.

“- there’s Mr. Richfair on Newberry. If you see his newspaper on the driveway, can you put it on top of the box. I don’t want him hurting his back more. Then make sure to ring the Leminwells doorbell. They’ll be up at this time-”

Grant sat down in the stool under the station counter. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, clicking on the first notification he saw. Of course it was his granddaughter’s. The ghost of an amused smile passed on his face.

“camila is coming in an hour early, sorry in advance :)”

“i tried to tell her that she didn’t have to, but she kept going on about time management and keeping the loyals happy, especially that old Crabtree”

An hour went by between the last and next message.

“she’s starting to sound more and more like you, might as well just hand down the crown now”

“i was kidding in the last message”

A brief pause before another one was sent in.

“kinda ;)”

“love u, tell grandma morning for me <3”</i>

Grant sent off a quick message, now looking back up to his prized worker. She was still rattling off instructions. He made eye contact with the two teens, signaling them to the counter, where their drinks had cooled considerably. Camila noticed the silent exchange and sighed begrudgingly.

“Fine. Each of you have seven deliveries today, but who wants to take the extra special one?” Camila crossed her arms at the two of them. Grant could tell she was smirking.

“Is the delivery to our precious Liliian,” Grant questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yup!” Camila’s eyes crinkled more in a hidden beam of a smile while the two groaned loudly.

“We don’t get paid enough for this,” Monty wheezed out from behind his mask.

“Aye! You get paid in experience, free treats, and any tips you get while delivering,” Camila scolded. She glanced at their blank stares before promptly deflating, “And I’ll give you gas money for a week.”

Monty quickly raised his hand, beating Peyton to it. Grant made his way back to the fridge grabbing the pre-bagged treats and the small bottle of pink lemonade from the back of it for Lillian’s impromptu order. He pushed them toward the smaller teen without a word.

“Be safe. Keep your ringer on and if there’s anyone that bothers you, you better call me.”

“Yes sir!” Monty chanted out, quickly snorting at Camila’s dejected look. Peyton only gave a small, uninterested nod her way.

Peyton started walking to the door, followed by a still giddy Monty.

“See you later Mr. Park!” They threw a wave over their shoulders, letting the door shut behind them softly. Camila exhaled loudly, making her way back behind the counter.

“Teenagers.” She pulled one of the mask’s ear loops off, letting the mask hang, and making her exhaustion clear to him again. Grant lightly pushed Camila with his shoulder.

“You were like that- no excuse me, you still are that. Especially around my granddaughter!”

“Leave Lillian out of this!” Camila turned red, still beaming anyway.

Grant huffed a laugh, standing up from his stool. He put his hands to his back, another litany of cracks and pops sounding out loud. Camila grimaced and huffed at the sound.

“Go on and take your break. She probably wants to scold you still from coming in early. I’ll start the opening shift and you just come on back after you’ve eaten something.” Camila silently nodded at him in a questioning motion. “Yes, I’m sure. I gotta practice making the specialty drinks again anyway.” Camila let out a boisterous laugh at his remark. Grant laughed, annoyed. “Now get on outta here!”

“Ah so the apprentice becomes the master-” Grant kicked his leg out smoothly, aiming for Camila’s right one. Camila jumped away from it and sat down in the stool he had risen from. A grin reappeared on her face.

“Yes it appears so.” He smiled right back at her as the whir of the machine came back to life.

——–

- translations for those who do not understand coffee jargon + portafilter = attaches to the grouphead; holds the actual espresso grounds + grouphead = metal, permanent attachment that brings water out of the machine and into the filter + tamper =  tool used to pack the espresso grounds into the filter; makes the grounds compressed + puck = the compressed coffee grounds look like a hockey puck

[hovercraft79]

Power of Two

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 10,109

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: smoking, arguing and general family discord

Summary: The time has come at last for Ada to take over as Headmistress. She and Hecate are still reeling from the consequences of the marriage scroll, but life moves ever forward. Days into her new role, Ada is faced with a challenge she never imagined – and a loss she can’t comprehend.

Notes: This fic covers the 6th Week prompt ‘Mirror Universe.’

The title comes from one of my favorite songs by the Indigo Girls.

For all of my fics, but this one in particular, I’d like to thank all of those who work on The Worst Witch fandom wiki. It was an invaluable resource. If you’ve never taken the time to click through that site, I highly recommend it. It’s a fabulous resource.

Thank you again to my dear friend Sparky. I earned a smiley sticker by using a bit of Latin in this one. It almost made up for my deranged use of semi-colons.

Alma continued her pacing, surprised she hadn’t worn a hole in the rug over the last few days. She was sure she could have marched her way to London and back in front of her fireplace. Now… now she was out of time. Agatha would be here tomorrow. She stopped at the sound of knocking on her office door.

“You sent for me?” Ada stepped into the room, taking in the empty shelves and loaded cardboard boxes. Term had been over for a couple of weeks, and Selection Day would soon be upon them. Her mother had determined that Ada should be installed as Headmistress before then. “Have you had any luck with the marriage scroll?”

“The what? Oh… no. I’ve been preoccupied,” she waved her hands over the stacks of boxes. “I’m taking more than I need to the seaside cottage, but I wasn’t sure what I would want.” She studied Ada a moment. “I take it you’ve not had any success either?”

“No.” In truth, Ada didn’t know if she felt more relief or disappointment that the marriage scroll still bound her and Hecate together. She’d been busy with Hecate and their usual summer potion making. After a flurry of attempts right after they’d been joined – Ada refused to call it married – they’d decided to slow down and be more thoughtful. They’d also considered calling in the Great Witch again but chose not to. She’d been none too pleased to find Hecate Hardbroom in the midst of yet another magical mishap.

Meanwhile, the marriage scroll hung like a cloud over them. While it had forced them to recognize their feelings for one another, force was the key word. They’d become careful with one another again now that they’d been forcibly joined together. Ada had, anyway, recoiling at the very idea that Hecate had been tied to her without her own consent. For her part, Hecate had handled the entire situation with much more aplomb.

“If not the scroll, Mother, then what can I do for you?”

Alma gestured for her to sit on the sofa, joining her once she’d settled. “I need for you to let me transfer the title of Headmistress to you now, here, before the official ceremony. We can go through the motions on Saturday, but I’d like the actual transfer to already be done.”

Ada shook her head, leaning away from her mother. “If this has something to do with Agatha… I’ve told you where I stand on that issue. We will run this school together. I know you—”

“It’s not about Agatha – at least not only about Agatha.” Which, of course, was entirely untrue. If Agatha could find a way to disrupt the change of power, Alma had no doubt that she would do it. “The transfer ceremony has often been just that – a ceremony. The real transfer of power carries risk. It’s no small thing to remove all the protective wards for the Academy and pass them to another. The window where the castle is unprotected is small, but it’s there nonetheless.”

Ada considered her mother’s words. They made sense, though Ada didn’t discount the idea that this was somehow tied to Agatha. “The transfer could still happen once Agatha is here. There’s no way to explain leaving her out.”

“Frankly, I’d rather she not even know about the early transfer.”

“Then it shouldn’t happen.” Ada stood to leave. She wouldn’t start her partnership with Agatha with a betrayal. “We can transfer the power at the ceremony as planned.” She’d barely made it to the door when her mother called after her.

“There’s another reason to have it now.” Alma hated to play this card, but Ada had left her little choice. “There’s also the matter of you becoming the Sealkeeper. Transferring that spell, in public…”

Ada sagged against the doorway. “Everyone would know…” Hecate would be a public spectacle. Because of her age, Hecate’s punishment had been kept private. Only her parents, Alma, the Great Witch and a select few of the Cackle’s staff had known about it. But if it became part of the ceremony… Hecate’s childhood mistake would be in all the papers. She would be devastated. Over fifteen years had passed since Hecate had graduated from Cackle’s. Certainly, a handful of teachers remained, Miss Bat for one, and Miss Coriander, the Head Cook, for another. But if her confinement ever crossed their minds, they kept it to themselves.

Defeated, Ada returned to sit next to her mother, knowing she’d well and truly been spelled into a corner. Looking into her mother’s eyes, Ada expected to see a gleam of triumph. She didn’t find it. All she saw was sympathy. Ada cradled her head in her hands. She could include Agatha, or she could protect Hecate’s privacy. “There really is no choice, is there?”

“No, daughter. I won’t insult you by pretending I’m not happy about it, but it is necessary.” She poured Ada a cup of tea, as much for something to do as anything else. “A witness is required. Would you like for it to be Hecate?”

Ada thought for a moment, then shook her head. As much as she wanted Hecate by her side for this milestone in her life, she couldn’t bear the idea of Hecate watching her take the oath of Sealkeeper. “No… not for…” Her cup began rattling in its saucer; she hastily set it on the coffee table. “I don’t want her to see me become…”

“That’s all right, Ada,” her mother said, in the gentlest voice Ada had ever heard her use. “I’ve already asked Miss Bat if she’ll be witness. It seems right – she was there when you were born, you know.”

Ada nodded. She knew. “Should I wear my dress robes?”

“If you wish, but… there’s no need. Save them for the public ceremony.” She squeezed Ada’s shoulder before leaving her alone with her thoughts while she summoned Miss Bat.

Suddenly, it all seemed far too real to Ada. The air vanished from Ada’s lungs, sending her gasping to the window. She wasn’t ready. She’d have to explain to her mother… another year…

“Ada.” Alma wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right.” They both turned at the sound of Miss Bat chuckling behind them.

“I dare say, Alma, she’s handling it better than you did.”

“Och, Gwen! She doesn’t need to hear about that.”

Ada’s chest burned from the lack of air. She thought she might be hyperventilating. Her mother steered her to the sofa and sat her back down again, pressing against the back of her head until Ada had it practically between her knees. Slowly her breathing began to calm.

“Your mother likes to forget how she lost her breakfast pudding before her transfer ceremony.”

“Wh-what?”

Alma made an annoyed sound.

“Oh, yes. Tipped the old cauldron right out onto the rug.” A twinkling eye winked at Ada. “It’s no small thing to become Headmistress of any school, much less the oldest witching academy in Britain. I’d be worried if you weren’t a bit nervous.”

Ada lifted her head. “Then you’ve no cause for worry. I’m about terrified off my broomstick.”

“That’s a good girl, then,” Gwen said, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

“Let’s go. First things first.” Opening her desk drawer, Alma removed an ornately carved box. Ada recognized it at once. The box had been carved from a naturally fallen branch of the Fortingall yew millennia ago specifically to hold the Great Seal of Cackle’s Academy. The Seal had been presented to Christobelle Cackle along with the Academy’s Founding Stone. Legend held that as long as Fortingall yew still lived, so would Cackle’s Academy. Reverently, Alma lifted the Seal from the box.

 As time as tide as stars collide,

The line of birth shall pass unbroken.

From old to new and now to you

The symbol of family in this token.

In you, Ada Cackle, the first-born of my line,

Your magic and this castles shall forever entwine.

 The magic swirled through Ada, warming the depths of her belly and radiating through her limbs, light and heavy all at once. As the transfer waned and settled, Ada could feel the magic of the castle thrumming like never before. Her mother sagged against the mantel, breathing heavily.

“Oi, that was a thing, wasn’t it?” She looked at Ada. “Are you all right?”

Ada patted herself down, slowly feeling her own magic center in her chest. The magic of Cackle’s receded into the background. “I think so. Can you always feel it this way?”

“More or less. Wait till the place is full of girls with too much magic and too little control. I practically itched from the inside out during exams.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to,” Ada deadpanned.

Alma pulled a small red notebook from her pocket.

“Your spellbook?” The last time she’d seen her mother’s spellbook, Agatha had used it to create an extraction spell. It was the day Agatha had been sent to Wormwood’s. The day everything had changed.

Once again, it seemed that little red book would be a harbinger of change.

“Aye. My spellbook. And my mother’s before that and her mother’s before that and so on and so forth.” She pressed the book into Ada’s hands. “Now it belongs to you.”

As soon as Alma released the book, a trio of glowing lights, blue and green and gold, whirled around Ada, circling her faster and faster until they finally faded away. As soon as the lights were gone, Gwen began to chant. Ada recognized the tune of the Witch Investiture Chant immediately, but the words were unfamiliar.

 Rejoice, a magic spell is cast

Behold, a wondrous switch

A brand-new era comes to pass

With Cackle’s new Head Witch

Enhance, the feeble strength of flesh

Be well, be safe from any harm

When wisdom, strength and skill are meshed

With ward and spell and charm

 “I – I don’t feel any different,” Ada said, inventorying her magic.

“No. These are the protective wards that come with being Headmistress. They’ll protect you from almost any sort of magical mischief – accidental or intentional. That’s how you girls never could manage to land a prank or pull off any sort of shenanigans. But be warned – if you ever lower the wards, you won’t be able to get them back.”

“It’s why the extraction spell failed.” Ada studied the book in her hands. Agatha never had a chance.

Alma nodded and they fell silent for a few moments before Alma roused herself and retrieved one last item from her desk. “Time for the last one.” She held out a gilt-edged red scroll bearing the seal of the Magic Council.

Ada stared at it as though it was a snake. The Sealkeeper’s Oath. She didn’t even realize she’d taken two steps backwards.

“It changes nothing, Ada. Nothing.” Alma glanced at Gwen. The older witch was staring sorrowfully at Ada. “You are not responsible for this, Ada. You didn’t set the punishment. You have no power to release her from the confinement unless Indigo is restored. If that happens – when that happens – you will be poised to end the spell.” She stepped forward and gripped Ada’s elbow. “It changes absolutely nothing.”

Ada nodded, reaching for the pen and the scroll. Unrolling it, Ada swallowed the bile in her throat and began to read.

She stopped before she’d even made it halfway through. It didn’t matter what it said. She didn’t really want to know.

Nothing will change, she told herself over and over. Nothing will change. Setting her jaw, Ada signed her name to the scroll. A rush of red fire filled the room before disappearing. In the silence that followed, Ada realized: Everything had changed.

-----

“Well met, sister! Are you ready for your big day?”

Ada pulled her eyes away from the window where she’d been taking in the growing crowd. “Agatha! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it!” She tried to pull her sister into a hug, but it just proved stiff and awkward.

“Miss my big sister’s big day? I don’t think so.” She peered past Ada’s shoulder out the window. “Not a bad crowd, but hardly what one would expect on such a momentous occasion.”

It was a dig and Ada knew it. Knew Agatha knew she knew it. She chose to let it go, instead taking in Agatha in her sharp, modern suit. She looked down at her own shapeless form in her dress robes. Sleek? No. Stylish? Only for the most traditional of witches. At best, they covered the ever-increasing evidence of her love for sweets.

Agatha pulled a purple velvet bag out of the air. “A token, to celebrate your day.” She pulled a round brooch from the bag and held it up so Ada could see. A large dark stone was set in the middle of the gold setting, surrounded by orange gemstones. She pinned it to Ada’s cloak. “Now you’re ready.”

Ada traced the pin with her fingers, eyes shining as she smiled at her sister.

“Miss Cackle?”

“Yes?” They both said, turning around together.

Hecate stopped, eyes darting between the two of them before she collected herself. “Your mother says it’s time to make your way down to the dais.”

“Time to get this show on the road, then,” Agatha said before she snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Hecate eased closer to Ada. “You look resplendent in your dress robes.”

Ada could feel the color rising in her cheeks. “You might be biased.” She fussed with the sleeves. “I feel like a blob.”

“Nonsense,” Hecate smiled shyly. “You’re nothing of the sort. And that is my objective opinion.” Things had been stilted between them since that infernal marriage scroll. She didn’t regret it. Not at all. It had forced them to finally give voice to their feelings for one another. But feelings hadn’t translated into actions. Ada was adamant that they not move forward in their relationship as long as they were bound by the scroll. She’d argued that any sort of… consummation… might make it harder to free them. Hecate had reluctantly agreed. Once again, a part of her life remained on hold due to events beyond her control.  “I think you’ll make a fine Headmistress, the finest Cackle’s has ever seen.” She reached up to smooth Ada’s collar, dropping her hand when Ada backed away.

“Well. We don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?” She gave Hecate’s elbow a chaste squeeze before transferring to the dais herself.

Hecate stared at the empty space where Ada had been just a few seconds before. Something else had changed. A gulf stretched between them, growing larger each day. Hecate didn’t know how to bridge it.

Hecate arrived at the dais just behind Ada. Agatha, who was sitting in the chair next to Alma, looked up at them in surprise. Hecate saw the briefest look of surprise flash across Alma’s face as well. She watched as Agatha stood to let Ada sit in the seat next to her mother.

Hecate’s steps faltered as Agatha shifted into the seat on the other side of Ada. Her seat.

What used to be her seat, she corrected. Now that Agatha was here… Hecate felt the chasm grow wider still as she moved to sit in the row behind Ada, between Gwen Bat and Geraldine Gullet. She hardly paid attention to the ceremony, surprised at how short it actually was.

Alma made a speech. Ada made a speech. The Great Witch said a few words, and before Hecate knew it, they were all being herded into the Great Hall for the Feast of Investiture. That’s when it hit her: there’d been no mention of transferring the responsibility for her confinement.

Despite the hot summer sun, a chill pebbled her skin. They’d already done it. That explained the growing distance she felt with Ada. Hecate moved through the rest of the day like an automaton, with no memory of how she did it.

-----

“I’m not sure a business suit is the look I want for my portrait. It feels a bit too Ordinary.”

“Our portrait,” Agatha corrected. “Surely you don’t mean to wear those ghastly old-fashioned dress robes that you wore for your installation. I don’t fancy looking like a bloody Cossack in our school portrait.”

Ada gave her sister a sideways look. Agatha was waging a more successful war against their middle-aged spread. Definitely not the dress robes. “Surely there’s something we could agree on.” Not that she should be the one to compromise; she was Headmistress after all, but with Agatha… sometimes it was easier to simply give Agatha what she wanted. “As long as we don’t make the same mistake Mother did.”

Agatha grimaced in agreement. “Where is that portrait, anyway?” Their mother’s official portrait had become something of a family legend over the years. Somehow, their mother – bastion of tweed and jumpers – had been convinced to wear something modern. Fashionable, their mother insisted whenever the topic came up. The dress had certainly been memorable – an orange and purple paisley monstrosity with bat-wing sleeves.

“Top shelf of the confiscation cupboard. I’ve been instructed to Leave. It. Be.”

“I rather expect you were.” Agatha rearranged the papers on her desk. “I had an interesting conversation with Geraldine tonight. She says her budget has been frozen for the last couple of years.”

Ada nodded. “Money is always scarce for a non-fee-paying school. You know that.”

“Quite right. And yet the potions lab is spending significantly more money this year than last.”

“New cauldrons specially designed for students. Hang on.” She scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper and sent it fluttering to find Hecate. “I’ll have Miss Hardbroom explain—”

Hecate materialized in front of the fireplace. “You needed me?”

An hour later and Ada finally called a halt to the discussion. Hecate had transferred away immediately. “If you ask me, that girl is far too big for her broomstick.”

“I didn’t ask you. Miss Hardbroom is probably the finest potioner I’ve ever seen. Mother agreed to buy those cauldrons, and I’m not going to back out now.” Ada turned the lamp off. “I believe it’s time to put this conversation, and myself, to rest.” She also wanted to talk to Hecate.

As soon as Agatha left, Ada transferred to the hallway outside Hecate’s quarters. She tapped on the door and waited.

Hecate opened the door, already wearing her nightclothes. Ada could feel her skin warming. She made sure to keep her eyes on Hecate’s face.

“I wanted to…” Ada faltered. “I’m not exactly sure what I wanted. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Hecate opened the door wider, welcoming Ada inside. “Do you want some tea?”

“No. Thank you. I don’t want you to trouble yourself.” She smiled nervously at Hecate, who didn’t smile back. She wanted to tell Hecate she looked lovely. She wanted to tell her she missed her. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry about Agatha.”

“Your sister is… very different from you.”

“Mother would agree.” Ada sat down on Hecate’s sofa.

Hecate gingerly sat down beside her. “I’ve missed our… time together.” She reached for Ada’s hand, but Ada pulled it away, squeezing the hem of her jumper instead.

“I’ve missed it as well.” Ada tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. The hem was a poor substitute.

“But?”

“Does there have to be a but?” Both of Ada’s hands were now twisted in the fabric, stretching the knitting out of shape. “Perhaps a spot of tea would be best.”

Without a word, Hecate rose from the sofa and moved to the kitchenette where she proceeded to make the tea by hand. Ada could see her hands shaking from where she sat. Once she had the kettle on, Hecate turned to face Ada but didn’t move any closer. “If I’ve done something—”

“You haven’t. I know I’ve been preoccupied and I’m sorry.”

“But?”

Ada shook her head. “But I can’t… not that I don’t want to! I do… it’s just… I can’t.”

“Because you’re too busy? Because your sister wouldn’t approve? Because I’m not enough for you?”

Finally, Ada couldn’t take it anymore, not if it made Hecate doubt herself or her worth. “Because it’s not right!”

Hecate clutched at the counter as her knees began to fail. “What does that mean?”

“I – I’m your employer now… there are rules…” Ada couldn’t even finish the thought.

“We have been friends for years, Ada. Since before I worked here. Before you were anything more than a teacher here. You are not some lecherous wizard taking advantage of some naïve little witch in your employ. Moreover, I am neither a scheming harridan using you to better my positon, nor am I that naïve little witch being used. Please don’t insult either of us by using our jobs as an excuse.” Her legs found their strength again; she circled closer to Ada. “I know how you feel about that ridiculous marriage scroll—”

“It took away any choice that either of us had in the matter.” Ada knew she sounded like a petulant child. “It took away your choice.”

“I know what it did. I was there, remember? I also know that we’ve come to an understanding about that.” And they had – if one considers pretending it hadn’t happened an understanding. “This isn’t about that.” She wrapped her hands around the watch hanging from her neck. The watch Ada had given her. As much as she hated the thought, she had to say it. “Unless your feelings have changed.”

Ada’s eyes widened. “NO.” She hurried to Hecate’s side. “They have not.”

“Then talk to me about what’s truly bothering you. For Merlin’s sake, stop pretending everything is fine when it so clearly isn’t.” She forced her hands to her sides. “I know your mother transferred her power to you before the ceremony. Days before. That’s why it took me so long to work it out. You can’t even sit next to me now that you’ve become Sealkeeper.”

“That’s not true! I came here to see you, didn’t I?” She forced herself to quit wringing her hands. “I just… I keep seeing it in my mind. Every time I look at you, I see my signature on the oath. I’m sure it will fade, but… I keep coming back to having this control over you that—”

“Control? Ada! What control do you imagine you have?” Hecate stepped back and held up a hand. The air started to shimmer and hum. With a crack the Sealkeeper scroll appeared in her hand.

“Wh -  How…” Ada sputtered, gaping at the scroll. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that!”

“That’s hardly the point.” She thrust the scroll against Ada’s chest. “Go on, then. Show me what sort of control you have with that.”

“Now, Hecate…”

“Don’t ‘now, Hecate’ me. I want you to show me this control you think you have.”

“Look, you’re over excited and I don’t blame you. I’ve not… handled things well. You’ve had more time to rationalize this than I have.”

“Rationalize? I haven’t rationalized anything. I have made my peace with it. This is my life. As much as you may have thought about it since becoming the all-powerful Headmistress of Cackle’s Academy, I can assure you, Ada, that I have thought about it more. So, show me.”

Eyes narrowing, Ada unrolled the scroll. “Nothing will happen as long as the girl—”

“Indigo. Her name is Indigo.”

“As long as Indigo is stone, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Why not? Aren’t you in control, Headmistress?” Hecate folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead and read the spell anyway. Let’s see what happens.”

Ada scanned the scroll. There was no incantation, only a blank space where she assumed it would appear. “It’s not visible.”

“Then make it appear.” Hecate waited until Ada shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You can’t. Nor could you if by some miracle Indigo walked into your office right now.”

“Why not?” Ada read the scroll in earnest.

“Have you not even read it?” Hecate spun around, slapping a hand to her forehead as she tried to process what Ada was telling her. “You signed it. You presume to make decisions about me – about us – and you haven’t even read it?���

“You have to ask for it. You have to formally ask that the spell be lifted.” Ada’s face flushed. “I didn’t catch that.”

“The Great Witch’s last twist of the knife. I have to ask. Don’t flatter yourself that you have any more control over this than I do. Than your mother did. It’s as much a punishment for the Headmistress as it is for me. The Headmistress didn’t exercise control when she should have done, therefore she won’t have any control now.”

Ada looked like she wanted to speak. Instead she rolled the scroll up and sent it back to the desk in her office.

“I’m sorry you’ve been burdened with this, Ada. Truly I am. I had hoped that we’d built a foundation that would allow us to remain… well, friends at least, after you became Head.” She felt her eyes filling with tears, but she refused to cry in front of Ada. Not this time. “I trust you’ll let me know if that hope was misplaced.” She walked to the door. She didn’t know that she could manage a transfer just then. “I have rounds tonight.” She left Ada in her quarters.

In the corridor, Hecate sagged against the wall and buried her face in her hands. They never quarreled. Not that they always agreed, but… they didn’t do this. She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and wiped her eyes. “You’re a fool, Hecate Hardbroom, for even thinking you could have anything more.” It was like Pippa all over again, and she was doubly foolish to believe that it could be any different. The only difference was that neither of them could leave.

With a deep, shaky breath, Hecate began her rounds. She’d just turned onto the Fourth-Year corridor when she felt a ripple of unauthorized magic. Following the ripple to its source, she transferred into a shallow alcove just as Veronica Catsear was about to tap a mirror leaning on a table.

“What are you doing?” Hecate shouted. “It is past your curfew.” She stalked closer. Veronica wisely stepped away, clasping her hands behind her back.

“N-nothing, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Do not lie, Miss Catsear. This is the third time this month that you’ve been caught out after curfew. Add to that your sabotage of Miss Spellbody’s duplication potion, your recoloring of Miss Swoop’s familiar, as well as the cabbage incident... And now you have somehow managed to procure an illicit magic mirror. At the rate you are going, Miss Catsear, I highly doubt you will manage to remain a student here long enough to finish this term, much less graduate.”

“But really, Miss Hardbroom, I didn’t—”

“Enough. To Miss Cackle’s office with you. Stay there until I arrive with the Headmistress.” Hecate waved a hand and sent the girl to the office, setting a ward that would alert Hecate if the girl tried to leave.

Alone in the alcove, Hecate weighed her options. Casting out with her magic, she found Ada back in her office. No doubt Miss Catsear was already pleading her case. Hecate hadn’t intended to speak with Ada again tonight. Perhaps it’s for the best, she thought. Perhaps they could work things out sooner rather than later.

She grasped the edge of the mirror just as she transferred to Ada’s office.

-----

“The girl has a list of misdemeanors as long as my arm. I’m afraid I’ve had quite enough.” Ada sipped her tea.

“But… Ada… Wormwood’s? For a contraband mirror?” Hecate knew she’d just threatened the girl with expulsion, but… Wormwood’s? Ada would never send a girl there.

Ada turned her scowl on Hecate. “I beg your pardon? I don’t recall our being so familiar. Nor do I recall asking for you opinion on this matter.”

Hecate took a step back. “I’m sorry…Headmistress.”

Agatha stepped between them. “There, there, ladies. I’m sure we’re all a bit out of sorts due to the late hour.” She hustled Hecate to the door, practically pushing her into the corridor. “I understand there’s to be a broomstick display tomorrow. I look forward to it.” She closed the door in Hecate’s face.

Standing alone in the hallway, Hecate tried to make sense of what had just happened. This wasn’t like Ada. Even if they’d quarreled, she wouldn’t send a child to Wormwood’s.

Too agitated to sleep, Hecate headed for the library instead. The sooner they figured out how to undo the marriage scroll, the sooner they could get back to normal.

  Hecate would have sworn she’d only closed her eyes for a moment, but the sunlight was streaming through the windows of the library as Miss Inkwell gently shook her awake.

“Good morning, Miss Hardbroom. It’s been a few years since I’ve had to wake you up from some corner of the library. Researching something interesting?”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Hecate stretched, wincing at the sound of her vertebrae popping back into place. “No… well, yes.”

“That same thing that’s had you prowling my stacks for weeks now?” Miss Inkwell leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know, librarians are here to help you find what you’re looking for – and we don’t search and tell.”

Hecate considered it. She hadn’t had any luck searching on her own. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but… “I’m trying to find a reversal for a marriage contract. A – a friend accidentally read an old family marriage scroll and…” She shrugged. “She’s a bit embarrassed about it all.”

“I can see how that might be awkward – for your friend.” She patted Hecate’s shoulder. “I’ll take a look for you. But right now, you’d better get your skates on if you’re going to be on time for the broomstick display.”

Nodding, Hecate magicked her hair back into its usual tight and tidy bun before performing a quick shower spell. She thanked Miss Inkwell and hurried out to the sports field.

Within minutes, Hecate was surrounded by a dozen girls, all asking questions and running a dozen different ways. She scanned the crowd, looking for Miss Swoop, but the woman was nowhere to be found.

“Settle down, girls!” Hecate held her hands out, willing the girls to just be still. “You know what to do. You’ve practiced and you’re ready. Now go. Take your places.”

Determined little faces moved into position. Hecate took a seat on the dais, two rows behind Ada. She still didn’t see Miss Swoop. Across the grass Gwen Bat began playing an organ that had been set up for the display.

Shading her eyes against the late morning sun, Hecate watched the girls soaring in a slightly uneven v-formation. One of the girls was late on the turn, throwing the line off, but they quickly recovered. Soaring over the castle, the group formed a circle, flying faster and faster. Just when Hecate feared they would lose focus, plumes of red smoke streamed from the end of each broom, swirling in the vortex the girls had created until it resembled a small tornado. One by one the girls peeled off, landing in neat rows in front of the dais.

The crowd erupted, Hecate included. The girls beamed, well-deserved pride shining in their eyes. Ada rose to her feet, holding her hands up and willing the crowd to be quiet.

“That was an adequate display, girls. Not quite up to Cackle’s high standards, but I suppose the best you could do. You in particular, Miss Stone, I do hope you’ll endeavor to improve. Such a disappointment.”

Hecate looked on in horror as the girl who’d been late on the turn dropped her head. “Yes, Miss Cackle. I’m sorry, Miss Cackle.”

“Don’t be sorry, Evelyn. Be better.” Ada shooed the girls away in a curt dismissal. The rest of the girls filed away, their earlier exuberance dissipating faster than the smoke from their display.

Filing out with the rest, Hecate saw Ada waiting for her. Surely Ada wasn’t still out of sorts from last night. “Miss Cack—”

“Next time, Miss Hardbroom, I expect you’ll see to it that the display is actually ready for public viewing before disrupting our timetables?”

Speechless, Hecate stood, staring at Ada as everyone else hurried past her. She felt a warm hand wrap itself around her elbow, and a low voice purred in her ear.

“Don’t listen to her, Joy. They were brilliant.”

“What did you call me?” Hecate asked.

She turned around and found herself face to face with Pippa Pentangle.

----

Ada pushed her glasses to the top of her head and leaned in closer. She kept her hands clasped firmly behind her back. “Now, you’re sure that the mirror wasn’t here when you went to Miss Gribble’s room?”  

Veronica Catsear looked back and forth between the adults. “Yes, Miss Cackle. I was sneak… I mean, I was walking down the corridor and I thought I heard something. I didn’t want to get caught out after hours, so I hid in here. But it was just one of the familiars.”

“I see.” Ada settled her glasses back into place and stood up. “And then?” The alcove was feeling very crowded with Ada, Agatha, Gwen Bat and Veronica in it.

“Well, you see… Mattie and I finished… studying, yeah, we were studying for… for chanting! Anyway, it was late, and I thought Miss Hardbroom would’ve been done with rounds already, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“But I’d kept Miss Hardbroom from her rounds. She got a late start.”

“Just my luck. Anyway, I was walking back to my hutch, and I saw it. I’d just gone to have a look when Miss Hardbroom caught me.” Veronica gazed up at Ada with wide eyes. “I hadn’t touched it or anything, I swear!”

“I believe you, dear. If you had, I daresay we’d be looking for you instead of Miss Hardbroom.”

Veronica edged further away from the mirror. “Is Miss Hardbroom all right?”

“Oh, I expect so. Miss Hardbroom is very resourceful, you know. I’m sure she’s just a bit misplaced at the moment.” Ada smiled and wrapped an arm around the girl as she walked her into the hallway. “You go on to bed now, Veronica. We’ll get Miss Hardbroom sorted.” She nudged the girl on ahead. “And Miss Catsear? Don’t think that I’ve forgotten you were out past curfew not once, but twice tonight. Come see me at breakfast tomorrow and we’ll see about your punishment.”

Veronica’s shoulders slumped. Clearly, she’d hoped her curfew violation had been forgotten. “Yes, Miss Cackle.”

Ada waited in the hallway until the girl disappeared into her room. Once she’d gone, Ada turned back to the alcove with a sigh. “What do you think?”

“I think that this is not an ordinary mirror,” Gwen answered. She bent down until her face was nearly pressed against the glass and sniffed deeply. “You can smell the magic on it still. A bit like sulfur.”

“It doesn’t mean it has any bearing on Miss Hardbroom’s whereabouts,” Agatha argued.

“True, but the appearance of an unknown magical mirror that just so happens to coincide with Hecate disappearing? I think it’s quite likely the two are related.” Ada studied the mirror for a moment, hoping the secret wards that she’d inherited as Headmistress were as powerful as her mother had hinted.

Gingerly, Ada lifted the mirror – nearly dropping it at Gwen’s gasp. “Merlin’s sake, Miss Bat!” She looked at the other women. Gwen anxiously stared back at her while Agatha stared through narrowed eyes at the mirror itself. “Let’s get this back to my office.”

 The first tendrils of dawn were breaking over the horizon, and they still were no closer to figuring out the mirror than they had been when Veronica first showed it to them. Agatha had begged off sometime around three am, arguing that she would have to cover Hecate’s classes. Gwen sat in one of the wingbacks, head slumped on her chest and snoring softly.

Watching the sky shift from inky black to rosy blue, Ada reckoned she had about an hour before her mother arrived. She knew Agatha would have plenty to say about that, but Ada didn’t care. Not where Hecate was concerned. Certainly not when their last words had been a quarrel. Ada wiped a tear away before it could fall. Right now, she didn’t care if she was Headmistress; she didn’t care that she was nearing fifty years old. She wanted her mum to come and make things right again.

-----

“P-Pippa?” Hecate couldn’t believe her eyes. “You’re here?” She looked her up and down, not sure she would have recognized her out of her signature pink. Why was she wearing a kitchen witch’s uniform?

“It’s not funny, Joy.” Pippa said as she crossed her arms and started to walk away. “Where the bloody hell else would I be?”

“Amulet’s?”

“Look, I know the wicked witch has you bollocked, but that’s still not funny.” She grabbed Hecate’s elbow and pulled her closer. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchens, and you need to go patch up Evie Stone’s self-esteem. Meet me on the roof tonight. Our usual.”

Before Hecate could gather her wits enough to speak, Pippa was gone. Something was wrong. Hecate’s breath started coming faster. Everything was wrong. Her heart sputtered and roared, sending her back to the seats before she fell. Pippa shouldn’t be here. Ada shouldn’t… She cradled the pocket watch in her hands. Ada should not be this person that berates young girls in front of the entire school. She flicked open the watch and read the inscription There’s Always Time for What Is Important.

She snapped the watch closed. Her eyes roamed the courtyard. Everything looked both the same and unfamiliar at once. She forced herself to her feet, fingers still wrapped around the watch. First things first, she needed to see to Evelyn Stone.

 Having no idea when or where ‘the usual’ was, Hecate transferred to the roof as soon as dinner was finished. It was just as well. She needed time and quiet to think. The day had been enlightening to say the least. If she’d been asked that morning, Hecate would have said that seeing Pippa Pentangle would have been the most shocking part of the day. No. The most shocking bit had been finding out she taught Physical Education. She’d walked into her lab expecting to teach the scheduled laughter potion. Instead, she found Miss Gullet preparing her students in her lab. Her quarters were different; her clothes were different. As best she could tell, she was different here. Friendlier, more open. Everything she wasn’t in her own life.

And then there was Ada. She barely recognized her. The woman she loved hardly seemed to exist in this… reality? Time? Was she caught in a spell? A time trap? Was she the normal one or the one out of place?

“Joy?”

Hecate’s heart stuttered along with her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was the name or the woman saying it.

“You’re talking to yourself, darling. Are you all right?”

She forced a smile before she turned to face Pippa. “Was I? I didn’t realize.”

“Just a bit. C’mon, Hiccup. I need a smoke.”

Hecate followed her to the edge of the roof, the same place they’d snuck out to when they were girls. Swinging their legs to dangle over the wall, they spent a few moments enjoying the night. Pippa took the time to light up her cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke over their heads. Hecate tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell. It had been years since Ada had last smoked – her Ada, anyway. She didn’t know about the one here. She’d forgotten how bad they smelled.

“Your team did well, today. Don’t listen to what Cackle said.” Pippa gave her a sidelong look. “Sure you don’t want a drag?” She held the cigarette out.

“No. Thank you.” Hecate smiled. “And thank you about the show. I really didn’t do anything.” She hoped, in the moonlight, that Pippa couldn’t see how true that was. She had so many things she wanted to ask Pippa. So many things she wanted to tell her. She hadn’t a clue how to begin.  

They sat in silence.

Hecate jumped when Pippa finally spoke. “You’re wearing your hair different today. It looks nice. You’ve always had beautiful hair.” She crushed out her cigarette and lit another.

“Thank you.” Hecate fiddled with her nails. “Aren’t you worried smoking will affect your chanting?” Hecate heard Pippa’s sigh, but she put that cigarette out as well.

“What different does it make? I haven’t chanted in years. You know that.”

Hecate swallowed a cry. Pippa had loved chanting – singing them, learning them, writing new ones. “I – I know… I just hope that one of these days you will again.”

Pippa reached over and grabbed her hand. “I know.” She squeezed Hecate’s fingers before letting go. “Someday, perhaps. When we’re far away from here.”

“How long has it been now?”

“Six thousand, four hundred and thirty-two days…” Pippa’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Each day feels longer than the one before it. I keep telling myself it’s nearly done, but…” Her voice sounded like a cauldron sliding across stone.

Before she could even think about it, Hecate reached for Pippa, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. For a few seconds, Pippa leaned into her. Then she pushed herself away.

“I’m sorry, but… you know I can’t.” Pippa’s shoulder shook as she breathed in a deep, steadying breath.”

“I’m sorry… I just…” Just what? Hecate thought to herself. I don’t even know what we are to each other here. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t mind me, Hiccup. I’m just feeling a bit maudlin, I suppose.” She gave Hecate’s knee a shake. “I know it’s not your fault. Really, I do. And I’m grateful you stayed with me through my confinement. You didn’t have to.”

“Y-your confinement?” The word sliced through Hecate’s heart like a scythe. “I didn’t…”

“Don’t pretend to make me feel better, Joy. The only reason you’re here is me. Nobody works for Ada Cackle if they can help it.”

Hecate looked at Pippa – really looked at her for the first time since she’d been here. For the first time in years. Pippa wasn’t just older, she was harder, with pinched lips and cold eyes. “Pip…” She tried to reach for her hand again, but Pippa leaned away.

“I don’t regret it,” Pippa said, as much to the night as to Hecate. “You’d already been confined until graduation. If you’d actually given that girl magic… they’d have stripped you of yours and held you up as an example. I couldn’t let the most magical person I know be destroyed like that. What choice did I have but to steal the Wishing Star back from you? It’s not your fault I got caught putting it back.”

The wall seemed to sway beneath her, and Hecate pressed her back against the stone. “Pippa…”

“Don’t. I know I’m here through my own choices – and I wouldn’t do anything differently given the chance. But it all comes back to your obsession with that Ordinary girl, doesn’t it? Maybe once my confinement is up…” Pippa cleared her throat and wrenched some brightness into her tone. “Twenty years hasn’t been so long, hey? Only a couple left.”

“You don’t have to pretend. I understand how you feel, Pip—”

“NO! You don’t. You can come and go as you please. You can leave this place. Whether you choose to or not, it’s still your choice. Don’t tell me you understand until you’ve spent nearly twenty years getting knocked off your broom every time you get too close to the property line.” She climbed down off the wall. “I’ve had enough reminiscing for tonight, Joy. Get some sleep.” Pippa winked out of sight in a swirl of pink magic, leaving Hecate alone on the roof.

Hecate trailed her fingers through the fading remnants of Pippa’s magic. At least that hasn’t changed, she thought. This was not her world. Nor Pippa’s. Nor even Ada’s.

She knew she was in trouble – seriously so. But one thing Pippa said kept ringing through her head, crowding everything else out. You can come and go as you please.

Hecate summoned a broom, pushing aside her own vivid memories of getting knocked off her broom at the property line. Instead, she flew straight for it.

-----

“I can’t believe you’ve summoned Mother,” Agatha hissed. “Is this how it’s going to be every time some little thing goes wrong?”

Ada pulled away, trying to avoid any more of Agatha’s nettle breath. “Hecate is missing. I don’t take that lightly. I’m certainly not going to put her welfare at risk to spare my pride. Nor yours.” She pulled a rumpled paper sack out of her skirt pocket. “Suck on a lemon drop, Agatha. We’d all appreciate it.”

“If you two girls are finished…” Alma called, looking at them over the top of her glasses. She pointed at two spots on either side of the mirror. Ada and Agatha meekly took up their assigned positions.

“Do you know what we’re dealing with?” Ada struggled to keep her voice light despite her mother’s grim expression.

“I think I do. It’s old magic. Not quite dark, but… murky.” Alma leaned closer to the mirror and sniffed. “You said Gwen thought it smelled like sulfur?”

“Yes, that’s what she said.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I didn’t smell anything.”

“Most people can’t, I think,” Alma said. “I can’t.”

Ada leaned in and took a deep whiff. “I don’t know if I can actually smell it, or if it’s just wishful thinking.”

“I believe we’re dealing with an Ostium Alternis Vitae spell.” Alma steadied Ada as she swayed on her feet. “We’ll get her back, daughter. Have faith.”

“Are… are you certain? I didn’t even think those were real.” A pit opened in Ada’s stomach. For the first time since Hecate disappeared, she feared for her return.

“I’ve never seen one, but… yes, I’m fairly certain. The smell of sulfur is one sign of it. But here’s what makes me sure… come here.” Alma positioned Ada in front of the mirror. “At first glance, it looks like an ordinary mirror.”

Ada stared at the reflection of her and her mother. Side by side, it was clearer than ever that Ada was her mother’s daughter. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. Now was not the time. “I take it, it’s not?”

“Step closer.” Alma nudged her forward. “Now, look at the edges of your reflection, but let your eyes go out of focus. Take your time.”

Ada tried to do as her mother instructed. As her eyes relaxed, the images took on a three-dimensional effect, nothing more. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a flicker of movement. Her eyes focused on that point and she lost the image. She grunted in frustration before closing her eyes to try again.

“That’s it, daughter. Relax yourself and your vision.”

Opening her eyes again, Ada slipped into the unfocused state much faster this time. When the flicker appeared again, Ada kept her eyes still, trying to look through the mirror, not at it. At last, the image shifted, and a new picture emerged. Ada could see that she was still seeing her office, but from a different angle. A woman passed in front of the mirror; Ada recognized herself. But it wasn’t her – little things were different: the cut of her hair, a skirt she didn’t own…

Suddenly the room disappeared, and Ada was staring into her mother’s worried face. “M-mother?”

“There you go…” Alma pushed her daughter to the sofa. “Let’s have a spot of tea.” She handed Ada a cup, adding a couple of biscuits to the saucer.

“I don’t understand.” Ada started as she realized that Gwen had joined them. “How long…”

“Over an hour, dear,” Gwen said. “Long enough to be sure that’s what we think it is. I must say, I never thought I’d see one of those again.”

Still dazed, Ada stared at her tea. “Where’s Agatha?”

-----

Water ran in rivulets around her hand where it rested against the windowpane. Hecate didn’t know when it started raining. She didn’t know how long she’d been hovering outside Indigo Moon’s window, holding herself without form as she watched the family inside, but the buzzing in her ears had moved somewhere beyond agonizing.

Indigo lived. She looked healthy and well and happy. She had a family. A husband, who laughed a lot and brought her popcorn when they settled in to watch something on the telly, who cuddled with her on the sofa. She had a child – a son, judging from his truck-covered pyjamas. He was just learning to walk, giggling in surprise every time he plunked onto his nappy-padded bottom.

Hecate pushed herself away from the window, lifting into the air and pulling herself back into space. She pressed her frozen fingers against her burning ears, the buzzing slowly fading away. She could only imagine how red they were.

Turning her broom towards Cackle’s, Hecate headed back. Her earlier exhilaration at leaving the grounds had faded. This wasn’t her home. It was Joy’s home and she was no longer Joy. Her mind racing faster than her broom, Hecate tried to make sense of what had happened.

She knew she was the one out of place. Her fingers closed around the pocket watch at her neck. A gift from Ada. Her Ada. She frowned. Did Ada know she was missing? Was she missing? Hecate slowed her speed. Was there another Hecate fumbling through her life at Cackle’s? Was there a woman who never turned a child to stone now confined to a castle that had never been her home?

Or was Ada pacing the corridors in a panic, wondering where she could be? Berating herself because the last words they’d said to one another were shouted in anger.

The rain fell harder. Hecate pressed forward into the night, using the flight to think. When had she first noticed anything amiss? Today? Certainly, nothing had been right today.

“No,” she said out loud. “You knew something was wrong last night. Ada would never send a girl to Wormwood’s. Not after Agatha.”

The castle appeared in the distance, and Hecate’s room, even though it wasn’t truly hers, still beckoned, warm and dry. By the time she’d landed, Hecate knew what she needed to do. She needed to get her hands on that mirror. Only two unusual things had happened yesterday: finding Veronica Catsear in possession of an unauthorized mirror and her quarrel with Ada. She hardly thought Ada would magick her into another dimension.

Half an hour, two drying spells, one warming spell and a cup of tea later, Hecate found herself lurking in the hallway near Miss Cackle’s office. Lurking, for Merlin’s sake. She hadn’t lurked since she was a girl. “And we know how that turned out,” she chided herself.

It wasn’t quite time for lights out, but the corridors were already deserted. Hecate nearly jumped out of her skin when Miss Inkwell rounded the corner.

“Miss Hardbroom! I was just headed your way.” She held up an envelope. “I finished your little research project. That took some doing. Where did you… I mean, your friend… where did your friend even come across such a scroll? Those haven’t been used since the days of arranged marriages.”

Hecate took the envelope, turning it over in her hands. “That makes sense. She was cleaning out old family mementos.”

“What is all this nattering outside my door?” Ada appeared in a burst of magic.

The two women jumped back, pressing against the wall.

“Apologies, Miss Cackle,” Hecate shoved the envelope into her skirt pocket.

Ada pointed at Hecate. “What are you trying to hide?”

“N-nothing, Ad- I mean, Miss Cackle. Miss Inkwell was just helping me with a bit of research. I wanted to…” Hecate fumbled about trying to come up with an appropriate subject.

“Joy was just trying to find a way to improve the aerodynamics of the school brooms,” Miss Inkwell finished for her. “Ever striving onward, and all that.”

Ada stared down her nose at them. “I’d bloody well hope so after your girl’s earlier performance.” She cast a scathing look at Hecate. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a sports witch knows nothing about using a library.” She dismissed them with a flick of her wrist. “Carry on then – away from my office door. I’m late for tea with Agatha. Be gone by the time I return.”

Bristling inside, Hecate managed to grind out a quiet ‘Yes, Miss Cackle’ as the woman stalked away. “Thank you, Penelope. I fear I was floundering a bit.”

“Yes, well… she does have that effect on people.” She held up both hands as claws and bared her teeth, growling playfully. “Good evening, Joy. Don’t be such a stranger in the library.”

Hecate snickered behind a hand. “I won’t. You take care.” She made an exaggerated show of checking the hallway before adding in a loud whisper, “Stay out of trouble.” She took a few slow steps in the opposite direction of Miss Inkwell. Once the other woman disappeared and her footsteps had faded away, Hecate hurried back to the office door. She didn’t know how long she had before Ada returned. With apologies to her ears, Hecate pushed herself into the space between transfers.

-----

“Mother? I asked you where Agatha is?”

“She’s gone to tend to your Headmistress duties while we try to sort out what’s happened to Hecate.”

Ada smiled thinly. “That’s very kind of her.”

Alma and Gwen exchanged worried glances before Alma spoke. “Is it?”

“Are you saying it’s not?” Ada scowled into her teacup. “You’ve never given Agatha the benefit of the doubt, always expecting the worst whether it was warranted or not.” She slammed her cup down on the coffee table. “And now, when we should be focused on finding Hecate, you’ve chosen to renew this… antagonism towards my sister!”

“Use your sense, Ada! She’s been here only a few days, and already there’s chaos.” Alma shook her head; there was no reasoning with Ada. There never had been. “I know she’s your sister, and I know you think my concerns are unfounded, but look at where we are. Do you think it’s a coincidence that the person who matters to you above all others is the one that vanished?”

Ada crumpled under her mother’s glare. “We have to get her back.”

“And we will,” Alma covered Ada’s hand with her own. “We will.” She waved Gwen over. “While you were… occupied… Gwen and I did some sleuthing. We think we know how to get her back…”

Ada looked back and forth between them. Their drawn faces and downcast eyes belied the hopeful tone her mother used. “But there’s something wrong… I can tell from your faces.”

“She has to be in front of the mirror,” Gwen explained. “We don’t even know if the mirror exists where she is, wherever she is. We don’t even know if she’s aware anything is amiss.”

“But she’s all right, isn’t she? In whatever reality she’s in, she’s all right?”

“I hope so, daughter.”

“But there’s something else. Stop waving your wand about and just cast the spell.” Ada leapt from the sofa, stomping across the room until she was standing in front of the mirror. “She has to want to come back. That’s what you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s a mirror,” her mother explained gently, “an old mirror. There are flaws. The reflection is never perfect. The reality on the other side won’t be perfect either.”

If Ada had ever wondered what it felt like to turn to stone, this might be it. “What does that mean?”

“Hecate is the same, of course, but… other things could be different. You may not be Headmistress or maybe you are.”

“Maybe the confinement never happened,” Ada added softly. Would Hecate even want to return? What if the Ada on the other side of the mirror didn’t hesitate to love her back? “Trading her freedom for me isn’t much of a bargain.”

Alma moved until she was standing behind her daughter, hands resting heavily on her shoulders. “Don’t sell yourself short. And don’t underestimate Hecate.” She gave Ada a gentle shake. “It won’t matter if we aren’t paying attention when she looks in the mirror.” She left Ada staring, unfocused, into the glass.

-----

Hecate materialized in her room, the throbbing in her ears subsiding only a little. She leaned the cloth-draped mirror on her sofa and rubbed her ears, unsurprised when her fingers came away slicked with blood.

She wiped her hands on her skirt and didn’t give it another thought. Who knew how long it would be before Ada noticed the mirror was gone? Whipping the cloth away, Hecate studied the mirror. Her nose twitched at the faint smell of matches. She carefully touched the frame with the tip of her finger, flinching when she made contact. Nothing happened.

“A one-time only spell?” Hecate gripped the edge more firmly. She could feel magic under its surface – oily, writhing magic. Dark magic. She remembered finding an old ring in her mother’s jewelry box once, before she’d left for Cackle’s. She’d only held it a moment before her mother had snatched it away, but… she remembered the way it had felt in her hand. It felt like this, but stronger. Closer.

In a flash of understanding, Hecate realized it was because the spell was on the other side of the mirror, not this one. Whoever had done this had done it from her world, not this one. She pulled her hand away.

But this was her world, too. A world where she had Pippa, a world where she wasn’t confined. In this world Indigo Moon was home and warm, eating popcorn with a family who loved her – not standing in the rain, frozen in stone at the edge of the forest.

But it wasn’t her life.

This wasn’t her Pippa, bright and glowing and pink. This certainly wasn’t her Ada. She looked down at herself, awkwardly dressed in sports clothes. This wasn’t her life.

Hecate rearranged herself on the sofa. She gazed into the mirror, hoping to spot a trace of the magic, or maybe a pattern. She tried to avoid looking at herself. It was too distracting. Instead she tried to see through herself, adjusting and readjusting her eyes until…

Until she found herself staring into Ada Cackle’s blue eyes.

-----

“Hecate!” Ada rushed forward, flattening both hands against the glass. “She’s there, I can see her!” Behind her, she could hear Gwen and her mother scrambling, but she didn’t dare turn to look. On the other side, Hecate’s eyes flew open wide. “I think she can see me, too! Hurry!”

Alma opened the ancient spellbook. “When we start, push against the glass and try to pull her through.” She nodded at Gwen and they began.

 By all we see and all we are,

We summon you from realms afar.

 Ada pushed. The glass felt softer, but it didn’t give. “Again!”

 By all we see and all we are,

We summon you, Hecate, from realms afar.

 The mirror began glowing. Ada’s hands pushed through. “Once more!” She could see Hecate reaching for her from the other side but couldn’t feel anything. She pushed harder and suddenly felt Hecate’s hands in hers.

With strength borne of desperation, Ada pulled as hard as she could. Then, in a crack of thunder and hail of glass shards, Hecate was tumbling against her. Ada fell with her, refusing to let go even as they crashed to the floor.

“Hecate! Thank the stars!” She pulled Hecate even closer, kissing the top of her head. “You’re here, oh… Hecate…”

Burying her face in Ada’s shoulder, Hecate clung harder. “Say it again, Ada, say my name again…”

“Hecate… I’ll say it over and over if you want… Hecate…”

Hecate smiled into against Ada’s shoulder. She was home. 

[razieltwelve]

Collectibles #1 (Worm/Final Rose)

Taylor trudged home from another awful day of school and all but slumped onto the couch. She had only intended to rest there for a moment before going up to her room, but her exhaustion had other ideas. She dozed off, only waking when someone rang the doorbell.

Stumbling to her feet, she opened the door just in time to see the delivery van pull away from the kerb. There was a nondescript package sitting on the doorstep.

“A package?” She picked it up. “Did dad order something?” She blinked. Her name was on it. “Huh… I don’t think I’ve ordered anything.”

After the day she’d had though, she’d welcome any distraction. She’d thought they’d leave her alone after the locker, but they’d kept right on going although they’d been careful not to try anything else quite so dangerous. They were probably just waiting for things to calm down before they escalated again.

Taylor opened the package, and several brightly coloured packets fell out. She picked them up.

“Remnant: Age of Heroes… a collectible card game for awesome people?” Taylor chuckled. “Really? What kind of company advertises their game by saying it’s for awesome people.” 

Still, the artwork on the front of the packs was impressive. One of the packs featured a beautiful pink-haired woman clothed in crystalline armour whilst another featured a silver-eyed teenager with a scythe. However, her favourite was the pack with a dark-haired little girl eyeing a hamburger like it was the greatest thing in the universe.

“Well, I might as well open them. I mean… it was addressed to me, right?” Gingerly, Taylor opened the first pack.

And her life would never be the same again.

X     X     X

“Behold my awesomeness!”

Taylor jerked back as the same little girl on the front of the pack appeared in the middle of her living room. The girl took a moment to test the strength of the coffee table before leaping onto it and striking what was likely supposed to be an epic pose.

“Now… who has summoned me?” The girl grinned. “And where can I get some food?”

“Uh…” Taylor blinked. “Um…”

“Hey, you!” The girl pointed one finger at her. “Are you my summoner?”

“Um… maybe?” Taylor had heard that powers could be really weird. Was someone messing with her using their powers. Or… or was this her power? After all, the locker was exactly the sort of event that might cause someone to trigger, and it sometimes took a while for powers to emerge and…

“Huh.” The girl hopped off the coffee table and looked up at Taylor. She was, Taylor realised, very short and kind of scruffy looking. “Yes… you’re definitely my summoner.”

“Oh.” Taylor blinked. “So… you’re like a projection or something?” This was surreal. Maybe she was still on the couch sleeping. This was probably all a dream.

“Kind of.” The girl rubbed her chin and then picked up the pack of cards that Taylor had dropped. “Since I’m the first three-star card you opened, I’ll be your guide on your wonderful journey through Remnant: Age of Heroes.”

“…”

“To make things nice and simple, you can summon people and stuff based on the cards you open. Do certain things and accomplish certain objectives and you’ll unlock more cards and get more packs. Depending on what cards you get, you can do all sorts of stuff.”

“All sorts of stuff?” Taylor’s eyes widened. “You mean… like a trump?”

“Yeah, we’ll go with that.” The girl chuckled. “Now, come on, let’s sit down and go through the cards. I’ll explain how this whole things works since I really don’t want you getting stabbed or something because that would be the end of me too.”

They sat down on the couch, and the girl carefully put each of the fifteen cards in the pack on the table.

“So… basically, cards fall into several classes: characters, locations, resources, abilities, events, equipment, and organisations.” The girl looked at Taylor, and she nodded. “Each of these classes fulfils a different objective. Characters are basically all people. See this one?” Taylor nodded again. “Atlas First Responders Squad. It’s a one star character card, so it’s not very strong, but it doesn’t take a lot of resources to summon and it doesn’t take any resources at all to keep around.”

“Um… what happens if I use it?” Taylor asked.

“You get a squad of Atlas First Responders. They’re not the best or anything, but they’re basically there to buy you time to summon something bigger and scarier.” The girl rubbed her chin again. “Based on your world’s power system, they’re kind of like a squad of PRT, except they’ve got better weapons, training, and armour. Still, they’re basically cannon-fodder for any three-star like me.”

“…” Taylor had a hard time believing that the little girl in front of her could be that dangerous, but she’d just go with it for now.

“Now, resource cards are how you pay for everything. This one is a Lien card. It’s basically cash. Lots of other cards need Lien, and this is where you get it. Location cards are also important.” The girl pointed at one. “You got a pretty nice one. That’s a three-star.”

Taylor read out the name of the card. “Signal Academy?”

“Yeah. It’s a nice place. It’ll make resources so long as you’ve got it, and you need it if you want to summon certain characters. Yeah, you definitely got lucky. It’s not as good as getting Beacon, but Beacon is a five-star card, and those are super rare. Signal is a nice one to start with though.”

“What about the other card types?” Taylor asked.

“The others are pretty self-explanatory. Equipment is stuff you can use or give to other cards, events and abilities are kind of like the spells you’d see in a fantasy game, and organisations are groups that you can use to boost other cards or even locations and stuff.” The girl pointed to each of the cards in turn. “You got a pretty good pack. See? You’ve got a bunch of one-stars, but you got two three-stars. That one is me.”

Taylor picked up the card the girl had pointed to. “Diana Yun-Farron, Nine Years Old.” She looked at the girl. “So that’s you?”

“Yep.”

“And it’s really specific about your age.”

“Heh. If I was a little older, I’d totally be a five-star. Heck, you could argue I should be a four-star already. Either way, you got lucky. I’m one of the best three-star characters you can get.” Diana cackled evilly. “Look at my stats.”

Taylor did. Diana’s attack and defence were both higher than any of the other character cards in the pack. Moreover, the card mentioned a transformation that would boost them to what seemed like absolutely absurd numbers. “What… the…?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I’m awesome. Plus, fighting isn’t all I can do. Look at the abilities I’ve got.”

Taylor stared. “Incredible intellect, master schemer, always hungry, friend and foe to animals…” There were more, and as she read, the card’s text shifted, scrolling down as though it were a computer tablet not a card. “That is… a lot of stuff.”

“Yep. I’m just about the best three-star you could have gotten.” Diana grinned. “But, hey, how about we try a few things.” She pointed at a card. “Picture that one in your mind and picture holding it.”

Taylor nodded. The card was Atlas Mk-3 Laser Rifle. A moment later, the space beside her shimmered. The rifle was right there. “…” She looked at Diana. “Did I just summon a laser rifle.”

“Yep.”

The implications of this filled Taylor’s mind. If she could summon one card. Then what about the others…?

“What you summon depends on what resources you’ve got and stuff.” Diana pointed. “See the cost on the card? The rifle doesn’t cost a lot to summon because it’s only a one-star. The resources you’ve got in this pack and the ones you get from owning Signal mean you could summon that heaps of times. But the bigger stuff is tougher. You’ll only be able to summon it once a day until you get more resources.”

“So what about the other packs?” Taylor asked. “I can open those, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let’s do that.”

X     X     X

After opening all of the other packs, Taylor’s mind was filled with a strange sort of pressure. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was oddly heavy. Diana explained that she could make the cards disappear and reappear at will, and she would always know what cards she had and which ones she was using. It was handy - and a lot safer than running around with cards she could lose - but it was still weird.

“Oh, and there’s one last thing I should mention,” Diana said. “See those symbols next to my name?” Taylor nodded. “That means you can use me as a conduit.”

“A conduit?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah. It means you can’t summon me while I’m a conduit, but instead, you kind of get to use some of my powers for a while with me as your advisor.”

“…” Taylor stared. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?”

“Well, I thought I’d explain how everything else worked first. Besides,” Diana said quietly. “Not all of the others will be as friendly as me. Sure, most of them are nice, but you don’t want some of the others in your head. They can be kind of mean. Plus, since you haven’t opened enough packs and stuff yet, you can’t use me as a conduit very often or for very long, and I wouldn’t even try it on a four-star or a five-star. It would probably melt your brain.”

“Can we try using you as a conduit?” Taylor asked.

“Sure.”

A moment later, Diana vanished in a swirl of light. Instead, Taylor now felt a presence in her mind. It was warm and happy, and it was unmistakably the little girl.

See? Now, since you’re using me as a conduit, you can do stuff you wouldn’t normally be able to. Diana cackled. Want to see something cool? See the brick you guys have been using as a door stop over there? Pick it up and punch it.

Still a bit sceptical, Taylor did as she told. The brick was reduced to fine powder. “That is…”

Awesome, right? As long as you’ve got me set up as your conduit, you’ll be super strong, super fast, super durable, and you’ll heal from just about anything super fast. Oh… but you will need to eat heaps of food, and you might transform into a rage monster. On the upside, you’ll also be super smart.

“Super smart…” Taylor trailed of as she looked at the television and immediately thought of twenty ways to make it better. “This is crazy.” She grinned. “But the good kind of crazy.”

So… what are you going to do now?

“I think I’m going to be a hero.” Taylor nodded firmly to herself. “But can we go through how this whole things works again? I want to make sure I completely understand everything.”

While we’re doing that, you might want to summon the other three-star character you opened. I know it’ll take up most of the resources you’ve gotten, but it’ll be worth it.

“Okay.” Taylor concentrated, the cards in her mind shifting as she activated the resources and locations she’d gotten to summon the character Diana had mentioned. “Here we go.”

A red-haired teenager with fox ears appeared.

That’s my Aunt Vanille when she was younger. Diana smirked. If you’re going to be a hero, you’re going to need equipment and stuff. Between the two of us, we can build just about anything even if we’re only the three-star versions of ourselves.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Yes, Taylor has a card game for a power. A card that summons stuff and people from Final Rose. Heh.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Star Trek Episode 1.21: The Return of the Archons

AKA: In Star Trek, Neural Network Trains You 

Our episode begins with two men running frantically down a deserted, old-fashioned-looking street. The men look a bit old-fashioned themselves, wearing tall boots, waistcoats and tricorne hats, but when one of them trips and falls we see that the other one, stopping to help him up, is Sulu. In and of itself I wouldn’t find this terribly surprising since I just assume 19th-century themed LARPing is the kind of thing Sulu does on his days off, but they both look pretty freaked, so there’s probably something else going on here.

“O’Neil, we’ve got to keep going,” Sulu says, but O’Neil’s feeling a bit less plucky about the situation. “It’s no use, they’re everywhere!” he bemoans as the two of them back up against what appears to be a store window, albeit one completely empty of any merchandise. The desperate urgency of this statement is somewhat undercut by the fact that the camera then shows us all of one person, an anonymous figure wearing a brown hooded robe and carrying a big metal rod, pursuing them down the otherwise empty street. I say ‘pursuing’ but really, it’s more of a mosey than anything.

“Captain gave us an order! We’ve got to find some clue!” Sulu admonishes O’Neil, but O’Neil only reiterates that “It’s no use!” Then he points out another hooded figure approaching from a different direction. Oh, there’s two of them? Oh, well, I stand corrected. You’re definitely screwed.

[ID: An empty street with a large, old stone building at one end, in front of which a single figure in a brown hooded robe is standing.]

ahhhhh the endless hordes ohhhh nooooo

While Sulu and O’Neil are standing around waiting patiently to be cornered by the slowly advancing figures, Sulu kills some time by calling the ship to get them beamed up. Specifically, he calls the bridge, gets Kirk, and tells Kirk they need to be beamed up so that Kirk can then call the transporter room and tell them that the landing party needs to be beamed up, because just calling the transporter room directly might actually have gotten them out of there in time. Naturally, as soon as the situation calls for them to stay where they are so they can get beamed out, O’Neil immediately changes his mind and decides that actually he’d quite like to run away. Sulu yells after him desperately, but it’s no use; O’Neil has scarpered, leaving Sulu to face the approaching figure alone. The very slowly approaching figure.

Despite Sulu’s heroic last stand (heavier on the ‘stand’ than the ‘heroic,’ it must be said), one of the hooded figures manages to reach him, threateningly raising the big length of metal pipe they’re carrying to...gently tap him on the shoulder with it. Evidently this has more serious effects than Sulu being declared It now, because there’s an ominous sound effect and Sulu goes rigid for a moment. Then his expression turns into a blank, empty grin just as he finally gets beamed up.

Upon arrival, our still-grinning navigator staggers somewhat drunkenly on the transporter pad as Kirk hurries in, wanting to know what’s going on, and where’s O’Neil? Yeah, Mr. Transporter Man, where is O’Neil? This need for people to remain perfectly still for the transporter to lock on to them has rather suddenly come out of nowhere, considering a few episodes ago they were able to pluck a man flying a jet fighter out of the sky with no trouble. O’Neil might have run off pretty quick but I rather doubt he was traveling faster than an F-104. Damn thing must be on the fritz again.

Neither Sulu nor the transporter operator answer Kirk’s questions. Sulu just looks at him dreamily and says, “What? Who?” I don’t know what the transporter operator’s excuse is. Then Sulu looks a little more focused (it’s a very low bar) and says, “You’re not of the Body.”

At this point Kirk quite sensibly decides to ctrl-alt-del this entire conversation and just calls for McCoy to get down here pronto. Meanwhile, Sulu has rounded on a nearby blueshirt who’s just hanging out in the transporter room for some unknown reason, and starts yelling, “You, you did it! They knew we were Archons. These are the clothes they wear, not these!” (So, are you saying those clothes were...anarchonistic?) Then he throws his tricorne at the blueshirt and starts taking off his coat for good measure, because taking off his clothes is just how Sulu reacts to being under alien influences. This time he doesn’t get quite as far as in The Naked Time, though, getting distracted partway through by some thought that makes him look up to the ceiling and start grinning again while saying, “Landru...Landru...”

Kirk manages to get Sulu to sit down on the transporter pad and attempts to pry some kind of useful information out of him, but all he gets is some rambling about how “They’re wonderful, the sweetest people in the universe...” and “It’s paradise, my friend.”

McCoy gets there in the middle of this and reacts about how you’d expect.

[ID: McCoy raising an eyebrow and glancing to the side in bewilderment while saying “da fuck.”]

“Sulu, where’s O’Neil?” Kirk asks once again.

“Paradise...” Sulu says happily.

We never get to find out what McCoy considers to be the appropriate medical response to this situation, because at that point the scene cuts to the titles. Afterward we get a captain’s log to shed a very small amount of light on the situation:

“While orbiting planet Beta 3 trying to find some trace of the starship Archon that disappeared here a hundred years ago, a search party consisting of two Enterprise officers were sent to the planet below. Mr. Sulu has returned, but in a highly agitated mental state. His condition requires I beam down with an additional search detail.”

I don’t know if I would call that agitated, per se. It’s sort of the opposite of agitated, really. But never mind that, let’s talk about the fact that the Enterprise has been sent to investigate the whereabouts of a ship that vanished a century ago. At that point we’re well past there being any chance of actually helping any survivors and into ‘historical mystery’ territory. Sure, it’d be good to find out what happened, but was there really not anything of higher priority for the Enterprise, of all ships, to be doing? This is like telling an active Navy cruiser to stop everything and go look for the USS Cyclops. (Look it up.)

Well, Archon or no Archon, there’s clearly something weird going on here and whatever it is ate our best navigator’s brain, so there’s only one thing to do: send even more critical personnel down right into the middle of it to check it out. So Kirk, Spock, McCoy and three other dudes we don’t know beam down all dolled up in what could be called period dress as long as you don’t ask too many questions about exactly what period it is. Special shout-out to Spock, who’s chosen to hide his ears in the most conspicuous manner possible:

[ID: A landing party of six men assembled in two rows on an old-fashioned city street. In the front stand McCoy, wearing a a gray suit with a black bolo tie and carrying a medical case; Kirk, wearing a dark blue coat over suit pants, a patterned gray waistcoat, and a black bolo tie; and Spock, wearing a black knee-length cloak with a square hood over gray suit pants and dress shoes. In the back row are three more crewmembers wearing similar clothing.]

SPOCK SMOCK SPOCK SMOCK SPOCK SMOCK

Incidentally, if any of these streets and buildings look familiar, it’s because the exterior of the town was filmed at RKO 40 Acres, the same multi-purpose backlot that provided the set for Miri, which you may recall also served as the town of Mayberry in The Andy Griffith Show. It kinda makes me wonder if the Andy Griffith crew ever got annoyed at the Star Trek crew for trashing their town multiple times.

As the party gets their bearings, a man holding one hand to his chest wanders past, apparently too busy staring dreamily into the distance to take any notice of the new arrivals. Spock and Kirk take immediate notice of how much this resembles the state Sulu was in. “If everyone on this planet is like him...” Kirk muses, but doesn’t bother giving us the end to that sentence. Probably it wasn’t supposed to be “...then where can I get some?” but that’s the first thing to come to mind.

They head off down the street, and soon encounter another local wearing the same vacant expression, and also a bowler hat. This one actually stops and addresses them, though, saying, “Joy to you, friends,” with the hand-on-chest gesture the first guy was doing. Well, when in Rome, etc, so Kirk also puts his hand on his chest and replies, “Joy to you,” while behind him Spock chimes in with a distinctly half-hearted attempt at the same gesture.

The local continues, “You be strangers. Come for the festival, are ya?” For some reason the actor here has chosen to go with the most goofily over-enunciated accent he could possibly manage. It sticks out like a sore thumb because no one else in the town sounds remotely like that; they tend to sound a bit spacey, but nothing more than that. Indeed, I’m quite sure that no real existing human being has ever naturally sounded like this dude. But hey, I guess that’s one way to make your five minutes of screen time memorable.

Kirk’s happy to go with this conveniently offered explanation for their presence. Sure! Festival! Definitely! That is definitely why we are here, absolutely.

The guy then asks if they have a place to “sleep it off” yet. When Kirk shakes his head, the guy suggests they go find the house of someone called Reger. “He’s got rooms...but you’ll have to hurry. It’s almost the Red Hour.” Oh, that sounds...fun.

Sure enough there’s a clock on the nearby building reading about two minutes to six, which is barely enough time to put directions to Reger’s house into Wayz, let alone to get there. Unfortunately the party is still trapped in the iron grip of small talk with a dude who clearly sees no reason whatsoever to draw any association between “you’ll have to hurry” and “now it’s time to stop casually chatting.” But that’s small towns for you. I have occasionally come pretty close to having to gnaw my own arm off to escape conversations at the library check-out desk, and were meteors to start falling outside I would not expect the lady scanning my books to speed up one little bit.

At that moment, a couple of women come drifting serenely down the sidewalk nearby, giving Bowler Hat the chance to rope even more people into the conversation. “Tula, these folks come for the festival,” he says to one of them. “Your daddy can put them up, can’t he?” Tula, who looks slightly less spacey than Bowler Hat (a low bar) asks if the party is from the valley. One of the three as-yet-anonymous crewmembers, eager to make a contribution, chimes in that they’ve just arrived. Sure is convenient that everyone around here only asks leading questions.

Tula says sure, her dad would be happy to put them up. But it’s too late: just as she says this, the clock begins tolling six. The effect on the town is immediate. Tula, Bowler Hat, and everyone else in sight break into a frenzy, screaming, throwing hats and gloves, hitting each other, breaking things, and generally rampaging like an Instant Angry Mob, Just Add Water. The stunned landing party run for cover while people go wild all around them. Unfortunately one of them does get beaned by a remarkably soft bit of debris in the process.

[ID: A gif showing the landing party, led by Kirk, running through a street while various debris gets thrown around. One piece hits one of the crewmen in the head, causing him to throw his hands up, but not stop running.]

They find a nearby building to run into, quickly close the door, and only then turn around to see three very confused older men standing there staring at them. Kirk apologizes for bursting in on them, explaining that they weren’t prepared for “this kind of a welcome.” One of the men asks if they’re strangers and Kirk says yes, they came from the valley and they’re here for the festival. This answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the men as well as it did Bowler Hat, though, because the speaker asks, “How come you here?” Before Kirk can try to answer this, one of the crewmembers (the same one who spoke before, of course; what, you think they could afford to have all three of them talk? Talking’s expensive!) asks if the guy is Reger. The guy says yes, and then confirms that Tula is his daughter. “Well you better do something!” the ‘shirt yells. “She’s outside!”

Reger, however, doesn’t look at all taken aback by this news, just sad. “I know,” he says. “It’s Festival. It’s the will of Landru.”

At that point, one of Reger’s companions interrupts, pointing out that these new strangers are “young men, not old enough to be excused.” Oh, that’s okay, we’ve got McCoy here, he can write everyone a quick doctor’s note. Reger points out that they’re visitors, but the other man isn’t about to be content with that. “Well, have they no lawgivers in the valley?” he demands. “Why be they not at the festival?”

Rather than attempt to navigate the weird backroads of this conversation any further, Kirk aims to distract by telling Reger that they heard he might have some rooms for them. Reger looks relieved at this. “You see, Hacom?” he tells the complaining man. “They’ve merely come looking for a place to rest afterwards.” Hacom is still not appeased: “The Red Hour has already struck!”

The third man steps in then and tries to help soothe Hacom, telling him that “the valley has different ways.” But Hacom’s got a good head of outrage built up by now and he’s not about to concede it for anyone. “Do you say that Landru is not everywhere?!” he demands, with much the same kind of self-righteous huffiness of a man bitching out a Starbucks barista for wishing him happy holidays instead of merry Christmas.

“No, of course not,” the third man says, still gamely trying to defuse things. “It’s simply that they have different ways.”

“They’ve come looking for shelter,” Reger says, with what he clearly hopes is a sense of finality. “Can I turn them away?”

He turns and makes as if to lead the landing party up the nearby stairs, but the concerned ‘shirt stops him and asks again about Tula. “She is in Festival, as you should be!” Hacom snaps. As Reger finally manages to get the landing party upstairs Hacom turns to the remaining man and says that “the Lawgivers should know.” He is distinctly not amused when the other man tries to point out that surely the Lawgivers already know since they’re infallible, which Hacom takes as mockery toward the Lawgivers. “The strangers are not of the Body!” he yells as he stalks outside in a huff. “You will see!”

Upstairs, Reger has taken the party to a room with several beds, where he putters around opening the windows (revealing that somehow, full dark has fallen in the five minutes or so that they’ve been inside) and saying that the group can come back there after Festival, when they’ll be in need of rest. Kirk tells him they have no intention of attending Festival. This leaves Reger stunned and confused, but not nearly as stunned and confused as he is a moment later when Kirk says that he’d like to know more about the Festival, and about this ‘Landru’ person. At that, Reger freaks out, slamming the window closed again and spluttering incoherently before finally managing to say “Well...you’re strange.” Then he tries to ask, “Are you...are you...” but can’t quite make it. Undaunted by this, Kirk asks about Landru once again, causing Reger to freak out even more.

Outside, meanwhile, it’s still total chaos. Things are on fire, people are screaming, the works. Special shout-out to the guy who just straight-up throws himself through an entire window.

[ID: A gif showing a man running past a glass window with a chair right before another man runs up and jumps through the window, shattering the glass.]

And now, the weather.  

By the time we cut back to the landing party, some time seems to have passed, as Reger is absent and Kirk is busy brooding at the window. Having evidently seen enough, he turns back to the group and says, “My guess is we have until morning. Let’s put the time to good use.” He tells McCoy to take some readings to see if there’s anything in the air that might account for all this and Lindstrom—the ‘shirt who was concerned about Tula—to “correlate everything that you’ve seen with any other sociological parallels, if any.” Oh man, Lindstrom got the hard homework. Kirk then turns to Spock and says, “You and I have some serious thinking to do. When we leave here tomorrow, I want to have a plan of action.”

Apparently all that thinking really takes it out of you, because the next thing we see is the gas lamp by the door having burned out, while in the interim almost everyone has passed out on some piece of furniture or another. Kirk remains somewhat awake, leaning half-asleep against the post of the bunk bed with a blanket wrapped around him, while Spock is laying flat on his back on a top bunk with his hands on his chest and his eyes wide open like Dracula. I don’t know he’s awake or if that’s just how Spock sleeps. Could go either way.

Kirk meanders sleepily over to the window and looks out. The rioting is still going strong, even though the sun has risen and the town clock is reading a few minutes to six. As the clock strikes six a moment later, the people below all suddenly freeze where they are. Then they all begin to calmly meander off in different directions, the rioting over just as abruptly as it began.

Kirk goes to wake up/get the attention of Spock, then rouses Lindstrom and then McCoy, who’s fallen asleep in some kind of chair-bed thing. The silence is suddenly broken by the sound of a woman crying loudly downstairs, which accelerates the waking-up process considerably. Everyone hastens downstairs to see Reger holding Tula, who’s sobbing hysterically, while Reger’s friend from last night hovers awkwardly patting her on the shoulder and such. McCoy gently pulls Tula away into another room, and when Reger tries to follow Kirk stops him, saying, “He’ll give her a shot, it’ll calm her down. Trust us.” Yeah, Reger! Trust the total strangers to medicate your daughter! What could go wrong?

Lindstrom breaks in angrily, demanding to know what kind of father Reger is that he didn’t even attempt to rescue Tula last night. Reger helplessly says that it was Landru’s will. Lindstrom, I know you’re righteously angry right now, but there’s a thing called “making half an effort to blend in with the locals so they don’t cut your head off.” Here, let Kirk show you how it’s done.

[ID: Kirk standing slightly behind Reger, a concerned looking middle-aged white man with brown hair in a dark gray suit, and another, older white man with gray hair and a similar suit. Kirk is saying, “What about Landru? Who is he?”]

oh for fuck’s sake

“So it’s true then,” Reger’s friend says. “You didn’t attend the festival last night?” No, Kirk says. “Then you’re not of the Body,” Reger muses. “You couldn’t be...”

The two of them hurry off in consternation, and the rest of the party follows, into the side room where McCoy and Spock have taken Tula. Speaking of Tula, she’s now thoroughly passed out. Evidently McCoy wasn’t kidding around with that shot.

“Are you...are you Archons?” Reger asks Kirk.

“What if we are?” Kirk replies, smoothly sidestepping out of that minefield of a question.

“It was said more would follow,” Reger says uncertainly. “If you are indeed--”

“We must hide them, quickly,” his friend interrupts. “The Lawgivers--” Kirk tries to assure him that they can take care of themselves, but assured he is not. “Landru will know,” he says. “He will come.”

Turns out that wasn’t hyperbole, because all of about two seconds later, a couple of the same brown-hooded figures that were harassing Sulu and O’Neil come bursting into the room, metal rods at the ready.

[ID: The landing party along with Reger and his friend all assembled in an old-fashioned sitting room and looking towards the doors, which are flanked by two men wearing brown hooded robes and carrying tall metal rods.]

NOBODY EXPECTS THE LAWGIVER INQUISITION

Accompanying them is Hacom, the damn narc, who smugly proclaims that Reger’s friend has been mocking the Lawgivers, and also those punks over there didn’t attend Festival like good citizens. “Tamar. Stand Clear,” one of the Lawgivers intones at Reger’s friend, in a robotic and slightly reverb-y voice. Both Reger and Tamar look stricken, but after a moment Tamar slowly says, “I hear and obey the voice of Landru,” and steps out in front of Reger. The Lawgiver raises their Rod of Lordly Might and the end of it fizzles and pops like a handful of cheap sparklers, which is probably exactly what it was. Tamar collapses on the spot, dead.

As Reger and Kirk grab Tamar and gently lower him to the ground, the Lawgiver speaks again. “You. Attacked. The Body. You Have Heard The Word. And Disobeyed. You Will Be Exterminated Absorbed.”

“What do you mean, absorbed?” Kirk asks. I’m going to give you a tip for free here: if someone tells you “you will be absorbed” that is not the time to stand around asking questions. Get out of there and you can figure out the details later, cause one thing you can be sure of is that there is no scenario where that could possibly end up being a good thing.

Hacom immediately crows that this is proof the strangers are “not of the Body” but the Lawgivers don’t seem to pay him any attention. “You Will Be Absorbed,” Kirk is told. “The Good Is All. Landru Is Gentle. You Will Come.”

After the break, Kirk, still looking unimpressed by all this, tells the Lawgivers, “We’re not going anywhere.”

“It Is The Law,” the Lawgiver tells him. “You Must Come.”

“I said we’re not going anywhere,” Kirk repeats calmly, while Reger clings onto his arm with a look of absolute terror.

But instead of resorting to force, the Lawgivers turn to face each other and just stand there for a moment. “Evidently they’re not prepared to deal with outright disobedience,” Spock notes curiously. “How did you know?” Kirk replies that everything they’ve seen so far indicates that the people in this place have a compulsive stimulus of some kind towards actions beyond their control, so he banked on the Lawgivers not being able to deal with people who couldn’t just be ordered around. Absolutely nobody feels inclined to take advantage of this brief respite by, say, climbing out the convenient nearby window or anything.

Eventually the Lawgivers turn back to the party. “It Is Clear That You Simply Did Not Understand,” the speaking one says. “I Will Rephrase. You Are Ordered To Accompany Us To The Absorption Chambers.”

“Why did you kill that man?” Kirk demands.

“Out Of Order,” the Lawgiver says. “You Will Obey. It Is The Word Of Landru.”

“You tell Landru,” Kirk says, “that we’ll come in our own time and we’ll speak to him.” Then he grabs the Lawgiver’s staff and hands it to Spock, who starts poking around with it.

“You Cannot,” the Lawgiver says. “It Is Landru.”

At this point Hacom evidently loses his nerve and rushes out of the room, whimpering, “Landru!” Meanwhile, Spock observes that the Lawgiver’s staff is just an empty tube without any kind of mechanism inside it.

The Lawgivers have to stop and buffer once again, only this time they’re making a strange noise. “They’re communing,” Reger says. “We have time, come with me.” He can take them to a place where they’ll be safe, he says, but they have to hurry before Landru comes.

So he leads them outside, where he starts walking casually down the street, smiling and nodding and doing the ‘peace’ gesture at people as they pass. Kirk puts rather less effort into being surreptitious and keeps loudly talking to Spock while they make their way across town, asking him what he makes of all this weirdness. Unsurprisingly, Spock finds it all “totally illogical.” Yesterday, for no apparent reason, the entire town broke out into total havoc. “Yet today, now--” “--Now, they’re back to normal,” Kirk finishes. I mean, if you want to call that normal. Arguably the way they’re acting now is less normal than the rioting and screaming.

As they walk, Bowler Hat Man approaches them with a cheerful “Morning, friends.” Reger greets him back casually, but Lindstrom recognizes him and rushes up to Reger, saying, “Your daughter—that’s the man!” The man who...well, we didn’t see what happened, exactly, but we did see Bilar grab Tula while the whole town was breaking out in a wild frenzy, and the next time we saw Tula she was sobbing frantically, so...draw your own conclusions.

But Reger seems neither surprised nor upset by the accusation. “No, it wasn’t Bilar, it was Landru,” he says impatiently, before telling them all they need to hurry. Which is easier said than done—moseying and hurrying at the same time is a difficult proposition.

Despite their best efforts, the group hasn’t gotten much farther before Reger stops and says, “It’s too late—look!” For a moment it doesn’t look as if anything much has happened, but then the party realizes that everyone on the street has stopped dead in their tracks. It’s Landru, Reger says—he’s summoning the Body. Or, as Spock helpfully chimes in, “Telepathy, Captain.”

A moment later, the townspeople all start reaching down and picking up bits of the debris that’s littering the area. Specifically, the bits that are rather heavy and blunt, like bricks and bits of masonry and big sticks. Oh dear. “Phasers on stun,” Kirk says. Yeah, no kidding.

Abandoning the pretense of normality, Reger leads the group off at a jog down the street as the dead-eyed townspeople advance on them. It’s admittedly a bit creepy. There might not have been enough extras to sell the idea of an entire town in full riot, but there are enough to make a decent-sized mob. It’s just a shame they advance so very slowly. And that, when the party turns into an alley and sees more people coming up it from the other end, they just kind of stop and hang out there for a moment to let themselves get cornered, even though the rest of the mob isn’t nearly close enough behind them that they couldn’t just turn around and keep going in another direction.

[ID: The landing party and Reger huddled in a group at the mouth of an alley while a mob slowly approaches from several yards away.]

had a D&D game once that ended up remarkably like this

Kirk says he doesn’t want to hurt them, and tells Reger to warn them back, but Reger says “They’re in the Body, it’s Landru!” In other words, they’re possessed, and not about to listen to Reger or anyone. So the group has to fire on the townspeople approaching up the alleyway. Evidently Landru’s powers over people don’t extend to making them phaser-proof, because everyone hit by the beams drops where they stand, only for them to be immediately replaced by more townspeople in their wake. The whole ‘unstoppable zombie horde’ vibe is, again, unfortunately a bit diminished by a sheer lack of numbers—given the population of this town as we’ve seen it so far, and how slowly they move, the party could probably just easily stand there and keep firing until the whole town is unconscious. It’d probably take about five minutes, tops.

Also, one of the supposedly stunned townspeople rather noticeably catches himself on the way down.

[ID: A gif showing several townspeople at the end of an alley, all holding aloft various sticks and bits of debris, as a stun beam hits them, causing them to fall to the ground. A man in front catches himself with one hand and lowers himself the rest of the way.]

Despite my tactical advice, the crew decides to make a run for it down the alley after clearing away some of the mob, but as they’re on the move McCoy stops suddenly and kneels by one of the fallen men. It’s O’Neil. Evidently running didn’t turn out any better for him than standing still did for Sulu. Kirk tells Reger that this is one of their men, but Reger says that he isn’t, not anymore. “He’s one of them!” he cries. “Landru will find us through him! Leave him there, he’s our enemy, he’s been absorbed!”

Yeah, three guesses as to whether Kirk is about to leave one of his crewmembers laying unconscious and brainwashed in the path of a relentless mob, and the first two don’t count. One of the ‘shirts does point out, though, that now that they’ve found O’Neil they could go ahead and beam the heck outta this whole mess. Kirk says no, because they still haven’t found their answers about what happened to the Archons. I mean, sure, but...is that really more of a priority right now than escaping the mob that’s out for your blood, and getting to a safe space where you could regroup, tend to your unconscious party member, and question Reger without having to worry about some hooded jerks with big sticks bursting in on you at any time?  Apparently it is, because a couple of people haul O’Neil off the ground and they all hurry off.

Exactly where Reger’s hiding place is we don’t get to find out, but evidently they get there alright, because the next thing we see is him pushing open a heavy stone door that leads into a distinctly dungeon-ish looking room. Everyone hurries inside, and Reger pushes aside an old bedframe to get to an alcove where someone’s left a big plastic square wrapped in heavy cloth. At least, it looks like a big plastic square, but Kirk identifies it as a lighting panel and it does, indeed, light up. “Amazing in this culture,” Spock comments. Yeah, it is a bit anachronistic next to the brazier over there.

Reger hangs it up on the wall to illuminate the room and says that it “comes from a time before Landru.” Asked just how long ago that was, he says that no one knows for sure, but some say it was as long as six thousand years ago. Six thousand years and it still works? Man, and I thought the Centennial Light was impressive.

Kirk has the two still-nameless ‘shirts go stand guard at the door while he and Spock muse over how weird it is that the lighting panel clearly came from a much more technologically advanced culture than the one currently occupying the place. Meanwhile, McCoy has had O’Neil brought over to what remains of the bed and is busy examining him. He gives Kirk an ‘in a minute’ gesture, so Kirk goes back to pacing and speculating, wondering if the Lawgiver’s rods might be some kind of antennae or broadcasting devices for transmitting the power of Landru in all its sparkly glory. Meanwhile, Spock is looking at his tricorder, which is apparently picking up “strong power generations...near here, but radiating in all directions.”

McCoy interjects to say that O’Neil will be coming around soon. “He must not!” Reger protests frantically. “He’s been absorbed!” This is followed by a dramatic chord and Kirk turning to Reger and going “Absorbed??” as if Reger didn’t already say the exact same thing twice back in the alley. I suppose he was a bit distracted at the time, but still.

“The Body absorbs its enemies,” Reger explains. “It only kills when it has to. When the first Archons came they were free, out of control, opposing the will of Landru. Many were killed, many more were absorbed. When he regains consciousness, Landru will find us through him. And if the others come--”

What others? Kirk asks. Reger explains that he means other people like him, who oppose Landru. They’re organized in threes—Reger was part of a cell consisting of him, Tamar, and one other person whom he doesn’t actually know, because Tamar was his contact. Evidently they’re doing the standard Resistance thing of limiting what individual members know in case they get captured, which is even more important when your adversary can control minds.

McCoy interrupts to say yeah that’s all great, but he needs a decision here, because O’Neil is coming out of it. Reger protests once again that O’Neil can’t be allowed to wake up, and Kirk mulls it over for a moment before telling McCoy, “Give him a shot. Keep him asleep.” Man, McCoy’s handing out sleepy shots left and right this episode. He must have a stash hidden in that waistcoat somewhere.

While McCoy does that, Kirk draws Reger over to a nearby table and says that he wants some answers. For one thing, if Landru’s so powerful, how is there a resistance movement at all?  Reger doesn’t know how it happened, only that some people have escaped “the directives.” “It was that way when the first Archons came,” he adds.

Reger’s obviously not entirely clear on what was up with the Archons, understandably given that it was a hundred years ago and detailed history is probably hard to keep track of around here if you’re not part of the hivemind, but he says that “Landru pulled them down from the skies” and that they invaded the Body but at least in part resisted Landru’s will. Kirk gets interested in that first bit, interpreting it as Landru bringing down a starship. Spock confirms that the power readings he’s getting are over nine thousand powerful enough to destroy a starship. Kirk sure doesn’t like the sound of that, so he calls up the Enterprise to check up on how un-destroyed it is. The answer’s not real great: Scotty picks up and reports that the ship is under attack by “heat beams of some kind coming up from the planet’s surface.”

The shields are holding so far, but keeping them up is taking all of the ship’s power, so much so that if they can’t even move without being burned up. Oh, and the orbit is failing, because of course it is, you can’t keep an orbit going round here for anything. Although presumably they are still in an orbit right now, which begs the question of where these heat beams are coming from that they can stay locked onto the ship no matter which side of the planet it’s facing. I guess Landru really is everywhere. Anyway, if they can’t shake the heat beams long enough to use the engines, Scotty reports grimly, they’ve only got about twelve hours left before the orbit decays and they hit the atmosphere. Cool. Were you gonna like, call up and let the landing party know about this at some point, or…?

Kirk basically tells him to hang in there, since there’s not exactly much more that they can do, while the landing party works on taking out those heat beams at the source. Scotty starts to talk about how he tried the emergency bypass circuits, but they weren’t effective—they never are, I don’t know why he even bothers—but then he starts breaking up. Spock reports that he’s picking up some very strong sensor beams—something’s probing them, and it’s too strong for him to block it.

Just then, there’s a strange whirring noise, preceding the arrival of a holographic image (or, possibly, ghost) appearing against the wall. Specifically, it’s an image of a dude wearing a purple and pink-cape-toga-thing and looking incredibly smug for someone with no apparent arms.

[ID: A semi-transparent image being projected onto a stone wall, which shows a middle-aged white man with thick light brown hair, wearing a long purple robe over a black high-necked shirt, with a shiny pinkish-orange cape on top.]

“I am Landru,” the image announces.

Spock is unimpressed. “Projection, captain,” he announces. “Unreal.”

“But beautiful, Mr. Spock, with no apparatus at this end,” Kirk muses. I dunno, man, the pink cape thing is certainly a bold choice but I think ‘beautiful’ is a bit of a stretch.

“You have come as destroyers,” the projection of Landru continues, heedless of the commentary from the audience. “You bring an infection.” Kirk insists that Landru release the Enterprise, but Landru carries blithely on. “You have come to a world without hate, without fear, without conflict. No war, no disease, no crime. None of the ancient evils. Landru seeks tranquility. Peace for all. The universal good.” Yeah, it looked real peaceful and conflict-free last night.

Kirk tries to tell Landru that they mean no harm, and that theirs “is a mission of peace and goodwill.” (That’s why we brought phasers!) Landru just keeps talking about good transcending evil, etc, etc, until Spock points out that “He doesn’t hear you, Captain.” Honestly not sure if he means that Landru literally has no way to hear them or if he can hear them but just keeps right on monologuing anyway cause, y’know, we’ve all met That Dude.

“Maybe he’ll hear this!” Lindstrom says, charging forward with his phaser out. Oh yeah, great job there Lindy, let’s SHOOT the HOLOGRAM. Kirk tells Lindstrom to cut that shit out so he can get back to talking to Landru which, admittedly, is really doing just about as much good as shooting the wall would.

“You will be absorbed,” Landru says. “Your individuality will merge into the unity of good, and in your submergence into the common being of the Body, you will find contentment and fulfillment. You will experience...the absolute good.” See, I told you it wouldn’t mean anything good.

At this point, a high-pitched whirring noise that’s been steadily but mostly unnoticeably rising through the background music suddenly peaks, causing everyone to start clutching at their heads in pain. The two ‘shirts guarding the door are the first to drop to their knees, with the rest of the party succumbing quickly afterward.

What follows is a wonderful opportunity to observe several different styles of Slowly Passing Out. Nimoy looks like he’s going to go one way but then changes his mind and falls backward onto the table instead until he’s laying on his back looking up. Christopher Held (Lindstrom) takes the bold move of just falling straight to the ground in a dead drop, while Kelley, no fool he, is back there doing a complex maneuver involving hanging onto the bedpost to slow his own descent. Shatner, of course, goes for the most extra route possible, pitching forward onto the table while clutching his head and then slowly falling down into the chair. I give full marks to everyone except Harry Townes (Reger) who was already sitting down and didn’t have very far to go in the first place.

[ID: A gif showing Kirk, Lindstrom, Spock, McCoy, and Reger clutching their heads and slowly collapsing on and around a nearby table.]

After the break, Kirk gives a captain’s log, which is quite impressive considering he’s currently unconscious.

“The Enterprise, still under attack by some sort of heat rays from the surface of Beta 3, is now being commanded by engineering officer Scott. The shore party has been taken by the creature called Landru.”

We briefly see the Enterprise in orbit around the planet (heat rays not pictured), before cutting to the landing party, now relocated to an even more dungeon-like room than the one they were in before. Kirk wakes up, staggers out of the alcove he was laying in, and goes to investigate the other end of the room, where Lindstrom and one of the unnamed ‘shirts are passed out in another alcove. Some further investigation reveals that Kirk is no longer carrying either phaser or communicator, and that the only apparent exit to the place is less of a door and more just a giant slab of stone in a doorway, which Kirk predictably has absolutely no luck moving. Eventually he gives up and goes back to wake up Spock, Lindstrom, and the other ‘shirt, who he addresses as Leslie.

We’ve seen Leslie quite a few times already—actor Eddie Paskey was a recurring extra who frequently filled the role of oddjob Enterprise crewmembers whenever one was needed. Like in the case of Kyle and the other TOS background regulars, it’s difficult to tell how many of Paskey’s appearances should actually be taken to be the same person, since not only does he go through a couple different names before ‘Leslie’ finally gets used, but for all of his characters to be Leslie would require him to go through jobs at a rate unlikely even for Enterprise crewmembers. Still, he gets referred to as Leslie more often than he gets called anything else, so he’s probably Leslie at least most of the time.

Spock, noticing that they’re a couple of heads short all of a sudden, asks where McCoy is. Kirk tells him he doesn’t know, since McCoy was gone before Kirk even woke up, along with O’Neil and “the other guard.” Oh yeah, “the other guard.” Great job remembering your crew’s names there, captain. Actually, said guard is probably named Galloway or possibly Galoway, yet another one of those amorphous extras; Galloway, however, is pretty consistently a security officer (aside from a brief stint as transporter operator) and while he won’t be referred to by name until his next appearance, he’s not called any other names until then, so in this case it’s fairly reasonable to assume that all or least most appearances of actor David L. Ross can be taken to be the same character. Not that it makes any real difference, since he has no personality whatsoever.

Anyway, Spock thinks McCoy and Galloway must have been here but were removed at some point. Kirk wonders where “here” is. “Evidently a maximum security establishment,” Spock replies. That may or may not have been sarcasm. Honestly it’s hard to tell with Spock sometimes.

Kirk also informs Spock that “all our phasers are gone, I checked” even though we’ve been watching him this whole time and he definitely didn’t check anyone but himself, but never mind that. Lindstrom and Leslie finally make it up, looking rather the worse for wear, with Lindstrom mentioning having a killer headache (Leslie probably has one too, but we’d have to pay him more if he said anything). Spock says that this is because they were all subjected to a hypersonic attack, which probably would have killed them had it been any stronger. Instead it just knocked them out, and possibly gave them tinnitus.

Enough about sound waves, Kirk wants to focus on coming up with a way out of this dungeon. He hopefully mentions the way the Lawgivers seemed unable to react to anything unexpected, but Spock shoots that one down, saying they shouldn’t count on it happening again because “in a society as well-organized as this one appears to be, I cannot conceive of such an oversight going uncorrected.” That said, he still finds that behavior to be very interesting, because the way the Lawgivers reacted was a lot like the way a computer would react to being given insufficient or contradictory data. He doesn’t think this means the Lawgivers themselves are computers—but it’s definitely an interesting data point.

At that moment, the door opens and a Lawgiver escorts McCoy and Galloway inside. Kirk rushes over to them, only to see McCoy smile blandly at him and say, “Hello, friend. We were told to wait here.” Oh dear.

Now real concerned, Kirk starts to say “Doc--” but McCoy just turns to him and says, “Can I help you, friend?”

“Don’t you know me?” Kirk asks desperately.

“We all know one another through Landru,” McCoy replies.

Just like Sulu, Spock observes grimly. But Kirk’s having a hard time holding onto his objectivity. It’s one thing to hear Reger talk about Landru doing this to people, even to see it happen to members of his own crew—but this is McCoy. His friend. Kirk grabs him by the shoulders and yells at him to remember—but McCoy just looks confused and asks if Kirk is from “away” because he speaks very strangely. Then even that brief moment of emotion fades away and he returns to smiling. “Ask Landru,” he says. “He remembers. He knows, and he watches.”

Kirk eventually has to give up and leave McCoy sitting in the alcove with the guard. He turns to Spock, but before they can even begin to confer on this problem, the door opens again to admit a couple of Lawgivers. One of them points their rod threateningly at Kirk and orders him to come with them. Kirk tries his previous trick of just refusing, but as Spock predicted, that bug has evidently been patched, because this time the Lawgiver calmly replies, “Then You Will Die.”

It seems there’s not much choice but for Kirk to get going, so with one final order for Spock to see if he can do anything about McCoy’s whole situation, he follows the Lawgiver out the door. Spock watches him go before turning to McCoy and asking what’s going to happen to Kirk. “He goes to joy, peace and tranquility,” McCoy says happily. “He goes to meet Landru. Happiness is to all of us blessed by Landru.” Spock gives this statement the side-eye it deserves.

We then see Kirk in another room, standing up against a wall with some heavy-duty wrist restraints in place.

[ID: Kirk standing up against a wall, being restrained by two large bars holding his wrists in place, while two Lawgivers stand in front of him, pointing their rods at him.]

This is only happiness to a very specific subset of people.

But before Kirk can meet his grim fate, the Lawgivers are interrupted by someone else coming in. This is not another Lawgiver, however, but a bald man in bright orange robes, who speaks—well, I can’t exactly say he speaks normally because no one around here does, but he at least doesn’t sound like he’s speaking through a knock-off toy Darth Vader helmet. “I am Marplon,” he tells the Lawgivers. “It is your hour. Happy communing.”

“With Thanks. Hap-py Comm-uning,” one Lawgiver replies, and they both head off to take a smoke break or whatever the Lawgiver equivalent is. Marplon steps into the nearby control booth and flicks some switches, causing the booth to slowly rotate around to face Kirk (presumably with the aid of an extra and a pulley somewhere behind the camera) while a dramatic sting plays.

Meanwhile, back in the dungeon, Spock is poking around at McCoy. Evidently someone leaning over you and almost poking you in the eye as they put their hands all over your face isn’t considered bothersome behavior under the directives of Landru, since McCoy seems perfectly fine with it and just sits there calmly while Spock does whatever it is he’s doing. Eventually, Spock grimly pulls his hands away and says, “Impossible. He’s under extremely powerful control.”

You kind of have to wonder what Spock saw in there. The nature of Landru’s control is a bit vague on the details—do members of the Body possess any degree of personality and individuality, smothered though it may be under a stupor of happy-happy-peace-and-tranquility thoughts? Or are they all being outright puppeteered by Landru? They at least seem to have enough personality to have names, and the fact that they stop and have discussions with each other seems to indicate that they aren’t a total hivemind—Tula has to be informed out loud by Bilar that the landing party are strangers in town, rather than her just knowing it automatically as soon as he knew it. But McCoy doesn’t show any sign of retaining any amount of McCoy-ness after he gets taken. He doesn’t remember Kirk and Spock at all, he doesn’t use any of his usual mannerisms, he doesn’t—as we’ll see in a bit—respond to perceived threats the way McCoy usually does, and in general he doesn’t act like McCoy-but-unnaturally-happy-and-calm so much as he acts like a completely different person. So when Spock says he’s under “powerful control” it’s hard to say whether he means that he saw McCoy being forced to feel peaceful and loyal to Landru, or if he saw McCoy in there, somewhere, possibly even aware, but no longer able to control his own actions. Either way, it’s a pretty damn creepy thought.

Unsatisfied with Spock’s analysis, Lindstrom asks if they’re, what, just going to stand around here and do nothing? Spock replies that there’s not a lot they can do, unless Lindstrom has any bright ideas about how to get through a solid stone door. Lindstrom clearly does not, because instead he just splutters about how “This is simply ridiculous, a bunch of stone age characters running around in robes--!” as if he’s got half a mind to just march out there and tell everyone to stop all this nonsense and behave, at which point presumably the Lawgivers will drop their rods and shuffle away in embarrassment. I can only conclude that Mr. Lindstrom has not been serving aboard the Enterprise very long, otherwise he would know that this is hardly any more ridiculous than the usual kind of thing they get up to. You notice Leslie over there isn’t saying anything. Leslie’s seen some shit.

Spock coolly points out that these “stone age characters” are in command of some powers that the Enterprise crew have so far been helpless to understand or resist. “Not simple. Not ridiculous,” he says. “Very, very dangerous.”

On the one hand, this could easily just be your standard sarcastic Spock response of the sort commonly seen whenever someone decides to start running their mouth off in his vicinity, but you have to wonder if he’s not also feeling particularly ticked off at Lindstrom scorning this whole situation, considering that Spock just got done with a close examination of exactly how powerful a grip Landru currently has on the mind of one of Spock’s two close friends. And his other close friend has just been taken off to have the same thing done to him, with Spock powerless to stop it. I mean, let’s put that in non-science fiction terms: imagine you woke up to find you’d been taken captive, and some of the people you were with, including a friend of yours, aren’t there. And then your captors show up and throw them back in your cell, and when you examine your friend you realize that, while you have no idea what happened to him while he was gone, he came back so badly concussed he doesn’t know who you are or where he is, and can’t even answer a simple question. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Your other friend has just been dragged off for the same treatment, and there was nothing you could do about that, either. And as you stand there, desperately wracking your brain for any way out of this, trying not to think about the state your other friend will be in when he comes back, this punk starts whining about how ridiculous the situation is, as if he’s more upset about being bested by what he views as an inferior opponent than by the damage those opponents have already caused, and the very real threat those of you remaining are still facing. Granted, I don’t think that’s what Lindstrom actually meant; he was probably just expressing understandable if poorly-worded frustration at being helpless to do anything in a situation where it feels like you really should be able to do something. But it’s not real surprising that Spock would feel rather cheesed at him about it. Y’know, if Vulcans felt cheesed, which of course they don’t.

At that point, the door opens and two more Lawgivers come in. One of them points their rod at Spock and orders him to come with them. Spock more or less shrugs and follows them out the door, leaving Lindstrom and Leslie alone to ruminate about how screwed they are.

The Lawgivers take Spock to the brainwashing room, where Marplon is releasing Kirk from the restraints. Kirk walks over to Spock with a vacant smile and tells him, “Joy to you, friend. Peace and contentment will fill you. You will know the peace of Landru.” Spock doesn’t say anything, but his expression indicates that he’s gearing up to end somebody over this.

[ID: Spock, being escorted by two Lawmakers, watching as Kirk tells him, “You will know the peace of Landru.” Spock has a particularly murderous expression on his face.]

Spock is gonna KILL GOD.

After the break, things look grim, with Spock—looking highly unimpressed--restrained against the wall while Marplon makes the lights flash and the Lawgivers point their rods at Spock for good measure. But when the Lawgivers have left, Marplon looks up and says, “Have no fear, friend. The effect is harmless.” He introduces himself and explains that he was unfortunately too late to save McCoy and the other guard, so watch out for them. But, as it turns out, he wasn’t too late to save Kirk, who was just faking for the Lawgivers.

Marplon goes on to explain that he is actually the third man in Reger’s triad (wow, small world), and that they’ve been “awaiting your return.” Spock tells him that they are not the Archons, although, really, who or what exactly these people think the Archons are is still pretty hazy. And indeed, Marplon himself doesn’t seem real fussed about the distinction, saying that, “Whatever you may call yourselves, you are in fulfillment of prophecy. We ask your help.” The poor guy is practically trembling with a mixture of enthusiasm and desperation.

Spock asks where Reger is and Marplon says that he’ll join them, adding that Reger is immune to absorption. Exactly why this should be is never explained, and neither is the question of what exactly happened to Reger after the group got captured. One would assume that being in the presence of said group would rather give the game away, but maybe Marplon was able to cover for him somehow.

But never mind Reger—what Spock really wants to know more about is Landru. But upon being asked about him, Marplon gets even more panicky and says they can’t discuss that just now because Landru will hear. Although if Landru could hear them in here, they’d already be screwed, given everything Marplon has just admitted out-loud. My best guess would be that Landru isn’t quite as omniscient as all that and the resistance members are just (understandably) a bit paranoid and superstitious, although I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that, true to form for vengeful deity-types, saying Landru’s name attracts his attention.

Marplon hands Spock a couple of the confiscated phasers, which Spock stows away just before the Lawgivers come back in. Marplon just has time to warn Spock to behave just as he saw Kirk doing before slipping back into his own charade to tell the Lawgivers that “It is done!” Spock obligingly spouts the standard peace and contentment and so on, although I can’t say he puts a great deal of effort into it. The Lawgivers seem to be satisfied, though, because they take him back to the cell without fuss.

Back in the cell, Spock meets up with Kirk. They exchange a bit of “peace and tranquility” talk very loudly to satisfy McCoy and the other guard, before Kirk drops it and mutters, “Are you alright?” “Quite alright,” Spock replies. “But be careful of Dr. McCoy.” Indeed, as soon as he says this, McCoy rises up in the background ominously.

[ID: A gif of Kirk, Spock and Lindstrom standing in a half-circle near an archway. Spock says, “Be careful of Doctor McCoy.” As Kirk replies, “I understand,” McCoy stands up in the background.]

“I FUCKIN HEARD THAT”

Kirk tries to question Spock, who says he has a theory about Landru, but he’s cautious about sharing it with McCoy hovering in the background glaring at them like that. “You speak in strange whispers,” McCoy says as they turn to look at him. “This is not the way of Landru.”

Of everyone we’ve seen being or pretending to be Landru-possessed in the episode so far, the acting choices have mostly fallen on a spectrum ranging from Takei’s “incredibly high” to Nimoy’s “barely even bothering.” (Shatner falls somewhere in the middle, around “comfortably buzzed.”) Kelley, on the other hand, opted for a direction I can only describe as “intensely Southern passive-aggressiveness.” Perhaps it’s the increased Georgia drawl, but Possessed!McCoy feels eerily familiar, like someone I’ve definitely encountered at the Dollar General before. It’s the exact kind of sinister watchfulness not quite masked by a cheerful, friendly exterior that you would expect to find in that lady at church who would never say the world ‘hell’ but gets a little too excited during the bits of sermon about damnation and is currently engaged in complex political machinations to backstab Becky from next door because she lets her kids play too loudly and sold more brownies at the last bake sale (or just in the average head of a homeowner’s association.) I half expect him to start handing out Chick Tracts at any moment.

Before that can happen, Kirk is able to pacify him with more peace and tranquility, then dramatically claps his hands on Spock and Lindstrom’s shoulders and declares “MY FRIENDS” as he ushers them away to a slightly more private corner of the cell. There Spock is able to go into his theory, such as it is. “This is a soulless society, Captain,” he explains, and given that Vulcans have quantified the existence of the soul he probably knows what he’s talking about. “It has no spirit, no spark. All is indeed peace and tranquility—the peace of the factory, the tranquility of the machine. All parts working in unison.”

“And when something unexplained happens...their routine is disrupted?” Kirk muses. Spock agrees, and says that someone must be giving the orders—but who? Landru, presumably, but Spock says there is no Landru...not in the human sense.

“You’re thinking the same thing I am, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says. “The plug must be pulled.” But if Spock is thinking that, it’s not without some reservations. Because, you know, that whole prime directive thing. They’re really not supposed to go around deposing/assassinating political leaders, even really obnoxious ones. But, Kirk says, after all about two seconds of reflection, that directive is meant for living, growing cultures, which this one ain’t. This would be a fascinating ethical point if it wasn’t so obviously a quick justification to let them get on with saving the day without all that pesky worldbuilding getting in the way.

Conveniently, before Spock can say anything in response to this, the door opens again, but this time instead of more Lawgivers it’s Marplon and Reger. McCoy immediately stands up and says, “JOY TO YOU FRIENDS!” like that guy at Wal-Mart that you were really hoping to avoid having a conversation with but you didn’t sneak out of the cereal aisle quickly enough and now he’s seen you. Marplon and Reger keep up the smiling act until they make it over to the Non-Brainwashed Club at the back of the room. Marplon’s brought them their communicators, which is helpful, but Kirk has something more in mind. What they really need, he tells them, is more information about Landru. Marplon and Reger shake their heads frantically, mumbling about “the prophecy” but Kirk isn’t interested in prophecies. “If you want to be liberated from Landru,” he tells the two men, “we’ll need your help.”

It seems he said that just a bit too loudly, though, because McCoy springs up from his seat, points dramatically, and yells, “You’re not of the Body!” Kirk tries to calm him down, but McCoy isn’t having any more peace and tranquility. He screams for the Lawgivers before rushing Kirk and trying to throttle him, screaming “TRAITORS! TRAITORS!” all the while. (See what I meant about him not responding to threats normally? McCoy wouldn’t bother to try to strangle someone if he could whack ‘em with a hypospray instead.)

The other guard joins in, taking a swing at Kirk, but Spock intercepts and tosses him to the floor. He’s a lot less helpful with McCoy, mostly just kind of standing there watching as McCoy manages to back Kirk up against a wall, still screaming. “Doc, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Kirk begs, but of course, this does nothing. In the end, Kirk has to punch McCoy and then put him in a chokehold until he drops. Kirk slowly lowers him to the floor, sadly muttering, “Aw, doc...”

Just then there’s a noise of someone approaching, and Kirk and Spock quickly duck into cover in the corners. A pair of Lawgivers enter and walk right past them, demonstrating why it’s not a super great idea to dress your law enforcement in big peripheral-vision-obscuring hoods, not to mention why most jail cells aren’t designed to have lots of great hiding spots. The Lawgivers promptly get ambushed; Kirk deploys the good old fashioned Neck Chop, while Spock, surprisingly, forgoes the usual nerve pinch in favor of just straight up decking the guy. One suspects Spock is feeling a bit crabby at the moment.

[ID: Kirk and Spock fighting Lawmakers between two arches in their dungeon cell. Kirk is standing over an unconscious Lawmaker, who is laying next to an unconscious McCoy, while Spock is leaning back to punch the Lawmaker he is squaring off against.]

DIRECT ACTION

With phase one of the classic “mug the guards and steal their uniforms” maneuver successfully completed, Kirk moves right on to phase two, stripping the robe off one of the fallen Lawgivers and putting it on over his waistcoat. While he’s doing that, he asks Marplon and Reger where Landru is. The two of them stutter fearfully a bit, but Marplon manages to explain that they never see Landru, only hear him, in a place called the Hall of Audiences--conveniently located in this very building! “You’re gonna take us there,” Kirk says, leaving the poor bastards looking like they’re about to cry. When one of them makes a noise Kirk grabs them by the shoulders and yells at them to snap out of it and start acting like men. The empathy on display here is staggering.

Spock, meanwhile, has gotten in touch with the Enterprise and asks them for a status report. Scotty’s apparently been trying to get in contact with them for quite a while now, not that he has anything particularly new to tell them: their orbit is still decaying, the heat beams are still locked onto the ship, and they’ve now got about six hours left. “You’ve got to cut them off or we’ll cook, one way or another,” he says grimly.

Kirk tells him once again to stand by and then asks after Sulu. “He’s peaceful enough, but he worries me,” Scotty replies. Kirk orders him to put a guard on Sulu, which stuns Scotty, but Kirk doesn’t offer any useful information about the situation. All he says is, “Watch him. That’s an order,” and then he hangs up.

Kirk then turns back to Marplon and Reger and says, for the umpteenth time this episode, asks them to tell him about Landru. Which at this point is starting to sound like a repeating dialogue option.

[ID: 1. A shot of Kirk with a video game-style dialogue selection in the bottom left corner, with the option ‘Ask about Landru’ highlighted and the options ‘Ask about Archons’ ‘Ask about Lawgivers’ and ‘Remain Silent’ listed below it. 2. The same shot of Kirk, now saying, “About Landru.”]

“Well...there was war...convulsions...the world was destroying itself,” Reger says. “Landru was our leader. He saw the truth. He changed the world. He took us back, back to a simpler time. A time of peace and tranquility.” Oh fuck, he was one of those dudes. Of course he was. “Everything will be alright if we go back to the old ways, when things were good and simple and peaceful because everyone was busy dying of polio.”

Asked what happened to Landru, Marplon says that he’s still alive. “He is here now. He sees, he hears.” Then he begins to break down, crying, “We have destroyed ourselves! Please, no more.”

“You said you wanted freedom,” Kirk tells him sternly. “It’s time you learned that freedom is never a gift. It has to be earned.”

Yes, yes, very pithy, but I can’t really say I’m here for listening to Kirk tell people who have lived their whole lives under a horrifying totalitarian regime that they need to Man Up. I mean, regular human totalitarian regimes fuck people up enough, let alone one where everyone is literally being mind-controlled. Can you imagine what life is like for these guys? We know that Landru will try to kill anyone that can’t be controlled, so for Marplon and Reger to still be alive means pretending, every day that they were free of Landru’s control—which, depending on whether they somehow broke free or were born immune, could be their entire lives—pretending to be controlled, pretending to be just as happy and tranquil as everyone else, never able to let slip the slightest trace of fear or anger or grief at everything you saw happening around you, lest any of the constantly watching eyes all around you catch on and you either get executed by the Lawmakers or, if you’re not so lucky, slaughtered by the angry mob that just detected a traitor, traitor in its midst. And they were still trying to resist, still working against Landru despite him being, near as they could tell, all but omnipotent. And Kirk’s gonna stand here and lecture them about courage? Sure, they’re afraid—who could blame them? Sometimes people are afraid. Sometimes people need help.

And, well, Kirk’s not helping. Oh, in a broad sense, sure, he’ll save the day and defeat the bad guy for them (spoilers). But as far as Marplon and Reger specifically are concerned, Kirk has really not bothered to help them. He hasn’t made even a pretense of answering any of their questions. He hasn’t explained anything about who the Enterprise crew are, why they’re there, what their theories are about Landru or what they’re planning to do to defeat him. He hasn’t reassured them or made any effort to quell their fears, even though from the perspective of Reger at least, the landing party arriving has directly led to a lot of those fears coming true—since they got here, they’ve drawn suspicion to him that led to his friend being killed and him being pursued and captured, probably to be executed if Marplon hadn’t happened to be around. Kirk hasn’t shown hardly any sympathy for their situation, not directly—oh, he’s muttered to Spock about what a shitshow this whole society is, but he’s not once given Marplon and Reger themselves so much as a “wow, that sucks.” Mostly his interactions with them have ranged from “a bit condescending” to “barely even trying to pretend to be patient.”

And I know I’ve just spent the last two paragraphs ranting at Kirk, but Kirk isn’t really the focus of the problem here. This kind of writing doesn’t feel right for him. Does Kirk sometimes dismiss smaller, individual problems because he’s more focused on the bigger picture? Does he sometimes push people around him a little harder than they can handle because he’s busy pushing himself too hard at the same time? Sure. Those are understandable, human character flaws that are natural extensions of the character strengths that make him a good captain in the first place. But the attitude of this whole episode feels like it has very little to do with Kirk as a character, flawed or otherwise, and much more to do with an obnoxious combination of the lofty moralizing that Star Trek sometimes dips into mixed with an especially 60s-flavored American outlook on Freedom, subsection: The Costs Of. Yeah, we know all about fighting for freedom! We know all about what it costs! We’re the big strong heroes who are gonna save you from Nazis and Communism cause someone’s gotta do it and that someone is us! TROOPS!

As for the lofty moralizing, well, the behavior of our protagonists in this episode feels rather like the other end of the Metron problem in Arena. Our heroes sweep into a Less Advanced society, decide they’re gonna fix everything for them, and proceed to do so without putting much effort into actually including the members of that society in their plans. Heck, how much time have Kirk and Spock spent in this episode chatting about the flaws and foibles of this culture right in front of Reger, Tamar and Marplon, because it’s not like they’re gonna understand us anyway, right? Of course, I’m not saying that they’re acting as bad as the Metrons—they still haven’t been that obnoxious. And of course there are extenuating circumstances; Kirk’s got crewmen down here and a ship up there in immediate danger, he’s short on time and him being frustrated with not getting the help he wants out of the locals is understandable enough. I mean, at the end of the day, whatever they do to Landru is unlikely to be worse for this culture than having the Enterprise crash into it, which is what will happen if they don’t do anything. But again, the writing of the whole thing doesn’t make it feel like our protagonists are actually being driven by desperation, danger and their own flaws; it feels like an attitude that exists on the same kind of spectrum as we saw with the Metrons: there are cultures that do things Right and cultures that do things Wrong. Some of them are more Right than humans so we should aspire to be like them someday, and some of them are more Wrong so we should help get them on the right track. The extraordinary speed with which Kirk brushes aside the question of whether they’re breaking the Prime Directive speaks to the fact that the episode isn’t interested in exploring that question in the first place. It just wants to get on with dropping cool one-liners and defeating the villain.

Kirk says they’re going to find Landru now, but Reger finally reaches his breaking point and starts yelling that he was wrong, he’ll submit to Landru, and tries to run screaming for the Lawgivers. He doesn’t get very far before Spock nerve-pinches him, while Kirk sternly says, “It’s too late for that.” Hmm, I wonder if this could possibly have been averted at all if we’d done anything to help calm him down instead of telling him to tough it out like a real man? Nah, I’m sure it was unavoidable. Kirk then turns to Marplon and says it’s up to him now to take them to Landru. Marplon looks like he’s regretting every single one of his life choices.

But evidently either persuasion or intimidation was effective, because the next thing we see is Marplon leading Kirk and Spock, both now all robed up, down a very orange corridor. He stops at the door at one end of the hall and tells them that this is the Hall of Audiences (fastpass available). Kirk, naturally, tells him to open it. “But this is Landru!” Marplon pleads. Unimpressed, Kirk tells him to get on with it and open the thing already because seriously, there’s only like ten minutes of episode left, we don’t have time for this.

So Marplon performs the Sacred Gesture of Door-Opening, which is to say he folds his fingers and bows, and the door opens. Kirk and Spock hustle in behind him and immediately discard their entire disguises, which may not have been the best idea, practically speaking, but it’s understandable enough; the Hall of Audiences doesn’t look real well-ventilated.

On a side-note, Kirk was definitely not wearing his coat when he put the robe on, but evidently it respawned in his inventory at some point because he is wearing it when he takes the robe off again.

[ID: A comparison between two images. On the left, Kirk putting a Lawgiver’s robe on over his shirt and waistcoat. On the right, Kirk dropping his robe to the floor in the Hall of Audiences, showing his coat on over his shirt and waistcoat.]

One small problem: the room is completely empty, with no sign of any Landrus anywhere. Kirk starts yelling for him, saying that they are the Archons (sure, why not) and they’ve come to have a chat. A moment later, Landru’s projection appears against the back wall. I’m not sure if they intended for his shirt to blend in with the wall so well that it looks like his head is floating, but that’s what they achieved.

[ID: Another projection of Landru, this one a headshot in which the color of his shirt matches the wall behind him so well it’s barely visible.]

a true figurehead

For a moment everyone just stands around staring at Landru, although Marplon is multitasking and also having a massive panic attack. Then Landru finally speaks up. “Despite my efforts to save you, you have invaded the Body, and are causing great harm,” he says. Kirk says they have no intention of causing harm, but Landru keeps right on going. “Obliteration is necessary,” he says. “The infection is strong. For the good of the Body...you must die. It is...a great sorrow.” Oh, well, if you feel bad about it, that’s okay then. Carry on.

Kirk says they don’t intend to die, either, but as you might have worked out by now, Landru’s not listening. “All who saw you, all who know of your presence here, must be excised,” he says. “The memory of the Body will be cleansed.”

Before Kirk can keep this one-sided conversation going any longer, Spock tells him it’s useless—this is only a projection. “Yes, Mr. Spock,” Kirk muses. “Let’s have a look at the projector.”

The two of them take their phasers out and shoot the wall Landru’s projecting onto, blasting a big hole in the masonry. For once, shooting the hologram actually turns out to be useful, as it reveals the real Landru: a giant computer. Kirk and Spock exchange some pretty smug looks. “Of course. It had to be,” Kirk says. For, as Spock points out, this whole society has all along been run to a computer’s concept of perfection—peace, harmony, all parts working in perfect unison, and absolutely no soul.

“I am Landru,” the computer trills at them. “You have intruded.”

“Pull out its plug, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says, soaring clear over not only any ethical dilemmas here but also over the question of whether “pull out its plug” is even a metaphor that would make sense in the 23rd century. But when they raise their phasers again, there’s a flash of light, and not like the kind there’s supposed to be when you fire a phaser. “Your devices have been neutralized,” the computer informs them. “So it shall be with you. I am Landru.”

Kirk, barely missing a beat over the devastating failure of his cool one-liner, says, “Landru died over six thousand years ago.” The computer insists that it is Landru. “All that he was, I am. His experience, his knowledge.”

“But not his wisdom,” Kirk says. “He may have programmed you, but he could not have given you a soul. You are a machine.”

Landru 2.0 says that this is irrelevant, they will be obliterated, and that the good of the Body is the prime directive. Okay, first of all, that’s copyright infringement. Second of all—what, exactly, is the good? The computer stutters over this, repeating, “I am Landru,” before finally managing to spit out, “The good...is the harmonious continuation...of the Body. The good is peace, tranquility. The good of the Body is the directive.”

“Then I put it to you that you have disobeyed the prime directive,” Kirk says. “You are harmful to the Body.”

“The Body is! It exists. It is healthy.”

“The Body is dying. YOU are destroying it.”

“Do you ask a question?!” Oh, bad move, that’s a sure sign you’re losing the argument. Kirk, sensing weakness, takes a moment to get into a proper computer-dissing stance before asking his next question: “What have you done to do justice to the full potential of every individual in the Body?”

[ID: A gif of Kirk standing in front of a large hole in the stone wall before him, one leg propped up on the bottom of said hole. When Landru 2.0 asks, “Do you ask a question?” Kirk puts one hand on his leg and the other on his hip, and pauses deliberately for a moment before responding.]

Landru 2.0 doesn’t know what to do with that, so Kirk just continues anyway. “Without freedom of choice, there is no creativity! Without creativity, there is no life. The Body dies. The fault...is YOURS.”

Spock chimes in at this point to ask, “Are you aiding the Body or are you destroying it?” Landru 2.0 says it’s not programmed to answer that question. At that point a couple of Lawmakers come running in, but they’re not looking nearly so intimidating anymore, yelling, “Landru, guide us!” in a panic. Kirk turns toward them and pulls out his phaser (presumably out of force of habit, since it doesn’t work anymore) but Spock says they needn’t bother anyway—the Lawmakers have no guidance, probably for the first time ever in their lives, and thus are not much of a threat at the moment. Also, they don’t even have their giant sticks, so what are they gonna do? Headbutt the intruders to death? So Kirk dismissed them and turns back to Landru 2.0, ordering it to answer the question.

“Peace, order, and tranquility are maintained,” Landru 2.0 says, having had a bit of time of think about it. “The Body lives, but I reserve creativity to me.”

“Then the Body dies,” Spock says. “Creativity is necessary for the health of the Body.”

“That...is...impossible!” Landru 2.0 cries desperately.

Marplon, who’s been standing in the back looking real worldview-shattered this whole time, finally speaks up to ask if this is truly Landru, like someone who just met their favorite celebrity and got real let down. “What’s left of him,” Spock says. “After he built and programmed this machine six thousand years ago.”

“You must create the good,” Kirk tells Landru 2.0. “That is the will of Landru, nothing else.”

“But there is evil!”

“Then the evil must be destroyed. That is the prime directive, and YOU are the evil!”

“I think! I live!”

“You are the evil! The evil must be destroyed! Fulfill the prime directive!”

At this point Landru 2.0 starts smoking, as computers are well-known to do when they think too hard. Kirk keeps yelling at it to “Fulfill the prime directive!” and Landru 2.0 eventually just starts yelling, “Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me!” until it explodes in a giant shower of sparks.

[ID: A gif showing Landru 2.0, a large boxy computer sitting behind a hole in a stone wall, sparking wildly and catching fire. The gif cuts briefly to Kirk watching, before cutting back to show Landru 2.0 smoking as the sparks die slowly.]

Yeah IT’s probably not gonna be able to help with that one.

Kirk and Spock step inside to take a look at the remains (probably not a good idea, the air quality in there cannot be good). Evidently satisfied that Landru 2.0 is well and truly busted, Kirk turns to Marplon and says, “Well, you’re on your own now. I hope you’re up to it. You can get rid of those robes, and if I were you I’d start looking for a new job.” Gee, thanks.

He then calls the Enterprise to see how they’re doing. Scotty reports that the heat rays are gone, and Sulu’s all back to normal. To demonstrate this, Sulu shrugs at the camera so exaggeratedly I half expected a laugh track to follow it, before clapping the current helmsman on the shoulder and hustling him out of his chair so Sulu can get back to work. SERIOUSLY? I’m well used to Trek blowing off the effects of things that really ought to be pretty traumatic, but even for TOS this is pretty extreme. I mean, even putting aside the whole matter of recovering so quickly and easily from incredibly powerful mind control stripping away your entire sense of self in subjugation to a mindless collective, how did he get up there so quickly? The Enterprise is a big ship! You can only get from Sickbay to the bridge so fast! Landru’s been out of commission for what, two minutes? Five minutes, generously? Hell, he didn’t even get to take the rest of his shift off? Man, they really keep your nose to the grindstone on this ship.

Kirk, evidently more satisfied with this than I am, tells Scotty to stand by to beam them up, then hangs up and says, “Let’s go see how the others are doing. Marplon can finish up here.” We don’t get to find out how the others are doing, or indeed what the heck “finish up” is supposed to mean in this context, because the scene cuts immediately back to the bridge sometime later, where Kirk is giving a captain’s log.

“The Enterprise is preparing to leave Beta 3 in starsystem C-111. Sociologist Lindstrom is remaining behind with a party of experts who will help restore the planet’s culture to a human form.”

“Marvelous,” Spock comments as Kirk finishes. “The late Landru—a marvelous feat of engineering. A computer capable of directing the lives of millions of human beings.” Pretty impressive indeed—heck, just building a computer that’s still running after six thousand years is quite incredible. Would have been nice to study it. Pity someone blew it up.

Kirk’s not feeling real sentimental about it, though. It was still only a machine, he says. “The original Landru programmed it with all his knowledge, but he couldn’t give it his wisdom, his compassion, his understanding...his soul, Mr. Spock.”

Yes, yes, so you’ve said a bazillion times already, although it’s quite a large assumption given they have no idea what the original Landru was actually like. I mean, we do know this was a guy whose response to a world in crisis was to take everybody back to “a simpler time” aka the imaginary dreamland of bitter conservatives everywhere, and that he was so convinced his method of running that society was the only correct answer that he built a computer to go on micro-managing that society in his name forever. Not to mention, y’know, the mind-controlling powers that he apparently built into it. It’s entirely possible that Landru 2.0 was not an error of programming but in fact was running exactly as intended.

“Predictably metaphysical,” Spock says, apparently forgetting that he made the exact some observation himself earlier. “I prefer the concrete, the graspable, the provable.”

“You would make a splendid computer, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says fondly. Spock, of course, looks immensely pleased and replies, “That is very kind of you, captain.”

Before these two dorks can get any further with their sweet-talk, Lindstrom calls up to say good-bye. Asked how it’s going down there, he says, “Couldn’t be better, captain. Already this morning, we’ve had half a dozen domestic quarrels and two genuine knock-down drag-outs. It may not be paradise, but it’s certainly human.” Huh. I guess that’s better than laying in the fetal position crying, which is what I would be doing in that situation. Still, good to see that this society is acting properly human now. This...non-human society.

Kirk wishes him good luck and leaves him to it. As they prepare to head out, Spock muses about, ““How often mankind has wished for a world as peaceful and secure as the one Landru provided.” “Yes, and we never got it,” Kirk says. “Just lucky, I guess.” Yes, yes, no such thing as a utopia, and all that. Personally I just fantasize about a world where I earn a living wage, but I suppose that would make for a rather more boring episode.

They exchange wry looks, and the episode ends. There’s no sign or word of any of the crewmembers who got Landru’d throughout this scene, so who knows how they’re dealing with all this. I’m assuming McCoy is off somewhere getting super drunk right about now.

The Return of the Archons is an episode that always feels to me as if someone started writing it with no idea of where it was going and just made it up as they went along, but without the bit where you go back at the end and edit everything to match. There are a lot of things that either seem odd in the context of what we learn later, or just get brought up and then never explained. The biggest offender is the Festival, which dominates the first act of the episode so much you figure it has to be important, but then it just gets dropped with no answer as to what purpose it serves, how often it happens, why older people are exempt, etc. (The James Blish novelization takes a crack at it by having Lindstrom postulate that having everyone wildly run amok for one night a year was a form of population control. Which...seems suspect to me, but hey, he tried.) But there are plenty of other questions as well, like, where’s the ‘valley’ that everyone talks about, and who, if anyone, lives there? Why are some people immune to being Landru’d? Why is there a whole special chamber that our heroes get dragged off to one by one to get absorbed, when the Lawmakers are capable of doing it just by tapping people with their rods? Why is Hacom so grumpy and un-tranquil despite apparently being a member of the Body, none of the rest of whom show that amount of individualism? Considering Landru 2.0’s range apparently extends far enough for Sulu to still be controlled while up in orbit, why didn’t it ever try to use Sulu against the Enterprise? Why does Sulu, even after being absorbed, yell at that guy in the transporter room about having the wrong clothes? How do the Lawgivers do that robo-voice thing? I’m used to having to fill in some gaps on my own to make TOS episodes make total sense, but even for TOS this one has an abnormal amount of unanswered questions, which makes it difficult for me to take it seriously as a story, even aside from my problems with the whole “FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM LIKE REAL MEN” thing. On the plus side: waistcoats!

Landru’s circuit-popping demise has brought our Bluescreen Monologues tally up by one. No crew deaths this time, everyone escaped the clutches of Landru more or less intact. Next time we’ll be seeing the origins of a particularly iconic foe in Space Seed.

[willow-salix]

Ahhhh chapter 24, who knew it would go this far and keep chugging? Life of its own. It's too big to post the whole thing, which can be found here, but until then here is a snippet from the beginning although this is actually a Kayo and Selene heavy chapter.

Selene stretched, feeling the muscles of her back pop as she moved. 

"Oooh, that hurt," she twisted to one side, then the other. Too many hours sitting at John's desk doing video consultations had played havoc with her spine. And she still had her card readings to finish. Luckily those didn't require any face to face time.

Needing to move she gathered up her cards and her tablet then went for a wander. The villa was surprisingly quiet, although she could hear the faint notes of the piano and followed them to the lounge. Virgil and John were the only ones there. 

V was tinkling on the ivories, playing a soft little tune, while John was quietly reading. She wandered past the piano, stopping to give Virgil a little shoulder squeeze in greeting, not wanting to interrupt him too much, then continued to the seating area. 

She looked from her spaceman, to the couch, to the floor and back again. Sure, she could sit on the floor at the table, but then she'd be far away from John again, and that wasn't part of the plan, he was definitely the better option. 

Not giving him any choice in the matter she nudged his book out of the way and flopped down, lying on her belly across his lap. John, fairly used to her antics by now, simply lifted his arms, waited until she got comfortable and lowered them again, resting his book on her backside. 

Holding herself up on her elbows she shuffled the cards and started her first spread, setting her tablet to voice typing as she got to work. 

"Distant Past, four of cups, element of water signifying a very emotional time in your past which has had a major effect on your life now. It's the card of missed opportunities, boredom and reevaluation-" she paused when John shifted to get comfortable, his hand coming to rest on her left butt cheek after he turned the page of his book. Smiling to herself she continued with her reading. 

"Present, Queen of Swords, an older woman will step into your life and protect you when you need it most." 

She finished the reading, quietly adding more details and explanations, checked that the tablet had recorded and translated it all properly then gathered up the cards to shuffle them again, laying out another spread. 

She was half way through the cards, murmuring quietly into her tablet when the peace was ruined by Gordon clattering into the room. 

"What's shakin' bacon?" 

He stopped dead, face creased in confusion. "Sel?" 

"Hmm?" she turned away from her cards to face the aquanaut. "Sup?" 

"Does he even realise he's doing that?" amusement tinged his words as he nodded towards John. 

She lifted her head to glance over her shoulder at her love, smiling indulgently. "Nope."

Virgil looked over at them, his fingers never ceasing their dancing on the piano keys. He smiled, spotting what had made Gordon laugh. 

"John?" 

Nothing. Not even a flicker. 

"John?" Gordon tried again. 

Nope, still nothing. 

"John?" Virgil tried for him. 

"Yeah?" He didn't look up from his book. 

"Hey, how comes he answered you?" 

"I've learnt to tune you out with years of practice."

"Mean."

"Did you want something or were you just interrupting for the sake of it?" 

"No, it's fine."

Selene sniggered as Gordon settled on the couch opposite to wait. 

Everyone drifted back to their activities, Selene softly reciting, Virgil continued to play although his focus was back on his sheet music and John returned his attention to his book while Gordon checked his social media accounts. 

Peacefulness reigned for no more than ten minutes before Alan shattered it by bounding into the room with his usual inexhaustible energy. 

He too stopped in front of the couch, but he was even less subtle than Gordon if such a thing was even possible. 

"John, why are you doing that?" 

John's epic sigh was the stuff of legends. 

"Doing what? Reading quietly like a normal person?" 

"No, stroking Selene's butt in the lounge."

Virgil and Gordon couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. 

"What are you talking about? I'm not-" he interrupted himself as he frowned, looking down at his hand which had been absently petting her behind. His frown morphed into a glare as he immediately stopped, breaking contact. "Where did the cat go?" 

"He's been with me for the past two hours."

"Really?" John frowned. 

Alan turned, revealing Armstrong happily curled up in his hood like it was a hammock.

Selene took pity on John, heaving herself upright and settling beside him. "Hardly his fault that my butt is so amazing."

"No, my butt is amazing, yours is just OK," Kayo grinned as she appeared in the doorway. "Are you busy, witch?" 

Selene glanced at her cards, ignoring the insult to her behind. "I've got a couple of things to do, but not really, why?" 

"Fancy a road trip? I need your help."

"What with?" John was instantly suspicious, his previous predicament forgotten. He wasn't aware of Kayo having anything that she needed help with, which put him on edge. He was usually aware of everything that went on with International Rescue and its operatives, sometimes too aware, he shuddered inwardly at the memories of a few things he'd seen and heard that he'd rather forget but seemed to have etched themselves onto his brain. 

"Things are quiet and I saw that some of my old university friends are having a reunion. Since everyone is always saying that I don't have time for socialising I thought I'd make time. Unfortunately updating my wardrobe is another thing I haven't had time for, so I thought I'd enlist a little help. I'd ask Penelope but we have very different tastes in clothing, although I'm sure Selene could lend me something, and come with me to the reunion tonight?"

Selene was struck dumb for a moment, of all the things she had expected to hear from Kayo, this was not one of them. But she pulled herself together quickly. 

"Yeah, I'd love to come, let me just sort a couple of things first, OK?" 

Kayo shrugged. "Sure, just don't take too long."

Selene snapped a picture of the tarot spread for future reference and checked her list of jobs to do for the next few days, seeing what she could put off. 

John lent over to glance at her tablet, checking her list. "Anything I can help with?" 

She frowned, thinking about it. "Not really, I've nearly finished this reading and it's not due for a few days anyway, and other than that the only things left to do are natal charts, I've been putting them off as it always takes me forever to plot each bloody thing."

He squinted at the charts she had partially plotted. "Looks easy enough, just plotting the location of specific stars and planets on specific dates at a certain time, right?" 

She made a face. "Pretty much, I mean there's interpretation of it after, but yeah."

He slid her tablet out of her hands. "Then leave them to me, what will take you hours will probably take me minutes."

She stared at him for a second, then patted her heart in gratitude. "You get better every day. I have no idea why I didn't think of making you do them before, but thank you."

"You good to go now?" Kayo was never one for patience. 

"Yep, let me just grab my bag and coat, then I'm all yours," she was already halfway out the door heading for the bedrooms. 

"You had better look after her tonight, I've heard the stories of your college drinking and seen the pictures to back it up," John warned Kayo. 

Kayo snorted. "This is the woman that somehow accidentally went out drinking with Scott and not only survived, but made it a regular thing, if anything it'll be me that needs the help. Don't worry, it won't be a heavy night, I just need some back up, those women are more ruthless than I am." 

"Is such a thing possible?" Alan asked, sitting carefully to avoid squashing Armstrong. 

"Maybe I need to come along too, you know, to keep the ladies entertained," Gordon offered. "Purely to be helpful, obviously." 

"Obviously," Kayo rolled her eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks, we've got this, plus it's ladies only." 

Selene trotted back into the lounge carrying her massive handbag that she refused to leave home without. "OK, I'm ready, let's go." 

Kayo led the way to the concealed hanger entrance, touching her hand to the camouflaged panel, standing back as the wall slid aside. 

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something?" 

"Shit! Yes, I'm sorry," Selene ran back to the sunken seating, diverting past John to Alan. "Bye Armie!" she fondled the cats soft head, ignoring the sniggering of John's assembled brothers. 

"At least we know who the important one is now," John huffed. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" she bent over to kiss him. "Bye gorgeous." She pecked a kiss to his lips, aware of the audience they had but for once John didn't seem to mind. His arms banded around her waist, tugging her down onto his lap. 

"Goodbye, have a good time, but behave. And no bringing home any more strays." 

"It was one time, John, get over it," Virgil groaned. "It's not like we've made a habit of it and the island is overrun with animals." 

"Still, behave," John kissed her softly, a little deeper and a little longer than was strictly PG. 

Kayo coughed impatiently. "Are you two done?" 

Selene smiled against his lips, breaking the kiss, though she pecked another there just because, then extracted herself from his arms. 

"Yep, done." 

The two women vanished, the wall closing silently behind them. 

"Show off," Gordon grumbled. 

John just grinned and stood up, picked up his book and Selene's tablet. "I'm heading to the office." 

"Seriously, the second she leaves?" 

"Yep, I'm going to get to work on her charts and catch up on some jobs she banned me from doing for another few days." 

"She'll kill you if she finds out," Virgil warned, but amusement tinged his words. 

"The key word being 'if'," John confirmed. "I'll be back before she is, I'll see you soon." 

[kawaiikichi]

See You on the Other Side (5/5)

Final part of my Saiouma Day one-shot! I almost thought I wasn’t going to have this finished in time, but here we are! It’s been a wild few days XD

Thank you guys for the support and I hope you enjoy this last part!

Title: See You on the Other Side

Summary: The world works as such: everyone has a soulmate that they must find before either one of them dies. If one of them dies, the other person will become stuck in a loop, starting from a specific moment in time. However, the soulmate indicator changes each time and gradually becomes harder to recognize. This will continue until they find their soulmate.

Today is the day. Shuichi Saihara was finally going to meet his soulmate. Reading the letter that he had received from the soulmate bureau, he goes to the park near his favorite coffee shop after dining with his friends and waits for his soulmate to finally arrive...

Soulmate Indicator: On the day you are to meet your soulmate, the soulmate bureau sends you a letter outlining how you will meet them along with other information such as the location, the time, what your soulmate will be wearing, and other information. Usually, you get notified a week in advance that you will be meeting your soulmate before the meeting details are sent to you the day of.

Notes: This is a mashup of both soulmate and time loop AUs; there are many rules that are put into place in this particular universe; some parts will be longer than others due to how much content needs to be covered (particularly Loop #4); 

Warnings: None~

Links down below:

♾ First ♾ 

♾ Previous ♾

Continue reading under the cut!

♾ Ｆｉｎａｌｅ Ｓｔａｒt ♾

Shuichi woke up that morning to the sun peeking through the curtains and the realization of what today was.

He leapt out of bed, a wide grin spread across his lips as he got ready for the day and dashed downstairs.

“Well, someone seems to be in a hurry.” an elderly male spoke from in the kitchen.

Shuichi smiled.

“Good morning, Uncle.” he said.

“Good morning to you too, Shuichi.” his uncle flipped some bacon that was sizzling away in a skillet. “I think I know what you’re looking for. It’s sitting on the table in the dining room.” he said.

“Alright!” Shuichi chirped excitedly in response as he headed into the dining room.

He grabbed for the white envelope sitting atop the table and briefly scanned the front, seeing that it was his letter from the soulmate bureau.

“Uncle! Where do you have your mail opener?” he called out.

“In my office!” his uncle responded.

Shuichi dashed into his uncle’s office, immediately spotting the mail opener sitting in the pencil holder on his desk. He picked up the mail opener and opened the envelope in one clean swipe.

Putting the mail opener down, he took the letter out from the envelope. He unfolded it and began to read its contents.

To Mister Shuichi Saihara,

Today, on March 10, 20XX, you will be meeting your soulmate. You will be meeting them at the Kugimiya Park close to the White Lily Coffee Shop at 4:45pm. Your soulmate will be wearing a white shirt, a black leather jacket, dark denim skinny jeans, checkered Vans, and a checkered scarf.

As it gets closer to the time you guys are to meet, you will begin to feel a pulling sensation. When you feel it, please do not panic, as this is completely normal. It just means that your soulmate is getting closer to you.

We wish you all the very best with meeting your soulmate.

Best wishes,

The International Soulmate Bureau

Shuichi began to buzz with excitement.

It’s time. I finally get to meet them, he thought to himself.

He headed out of the office and into the dining room as his uncle began to set the table.

“Did you read it?” his uncle asked.

“I did.” Shuichi sat down and began dishing food onto his plate. “The meeting place is at a park across the street from my favorite coffee shop.” he explained.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I’m actually going to the coffee shop with a couple of my friends after class.”

“Well, that works out perfectly for you, now doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

His uncle chuckled.

“You know, Shuichi, meeting your soulmate for the first time is an extraordinary experience. I remember when I first met your aunt, I was just as excited as you are right now. Exchanging words for the first time, hugging each other, being able to spot them and just know that that’s them...it truly is a magical experience.” he explained.

Shuichi smiled.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

💜💜💜💜

“Well, it’s about damn time you get to meet your soulmate!” Kaito hollered.

Shuichi laughed nervously.

“I told you already that I got a letter about it from the bureau a week ago, though...” he trailed off.

“You should be accustomed to this by now. He’s a forgetful dimwit.” Maki pointed out.

“Indeed! And don’t you—wait a minute, forgetful dimwit?!” Kaito exclaimed.

“You know it.” Maki replied as she began to stir her tea.

Kaede looked over at Shuichi, excitement dancing around in her eyes.

“So? Let’s see it! Let’s see the letter!” she said.

“Alright, alright. Let me just get it out of my bag...” Shuichi murmured as he reached for his school bag.

He took out the letter and he handed it to Kaede. She scanned the letter, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Wait, you’re meeting your soulmate at Kugimiya Park?!” Kaede looked out the window. “That’s literally right across the street!” she exclaimed.

“Huh.” Maki commented as Kaede handed her the letter.

“So? What’s your soulmate’s name?” Kaito asked.

“I don’t know. The bureau never said what their name was.” Shuichi replied.

“Huh?! Are you for real?!” Kaito snatched the letter out of Maki’s hand and he looked it over. “Holy shit, you’re right...” he trailed off.

“That’s odd. Your soulmate’s name should be on there.” Maki stated.

“Yeah, what Maki Roll said! Everyone has had their soulmate’s name in their letter when they received it! That’s how I knew Maki Roll was going to be my soulmate, after all.” Kaito declared.

Maki pouted, reaching up to play with her ponytail.

“Whatever...” she mumbled, a light blush coloring her cheeks red.

Shuichi looked at his friends before shrugging.

“Eh, it’s fine. I have a feeling as to who it might be, anyway.” he said.

“Huh?! You do?!” Kaito gawked at him. “Have you happened to meet your soulmate before now?!” he asked.

“Of course he wouldn’t have. The first time you meet your soulmate is the day the soulmate bureau sends you the info on how you meet them. There’s no way he could’ve met his soulmate already or else the bond would’ve been completed by now, you moron.” Maki stared bluntly.

“Moron—?!” Kaito’s jaw went slack as he looked at Maki, who silently took a sip of her tea.

They began to chat about various other things as Shuichi stared out the window, gazing at the park with a dreamy look on his face.

💜💜💜💜

Shuichi sat at a bench in the park, listening to the birds chirping from within nearby trees and letting the cool breeze blow through his hair.

He looked back down at his letter as he began to think over some things.

It still felt weird to be reincarnated into another timeline. Even as he was reincarnated, he still had the same name and remembered everything from the previous loops.

It took him a little while to get used to seeing Kaede and the others alive and well. He was so used to seeing Kaede being executed by Monobear and the looks of terror and worry that crossed both Maki and Kaito’s faces that it threw him off-guard to see them happy and simply enjoying life without having to worry about the killing game or that psychotic bear.

But, he kept those feelings buried deep within him and tried to embrace his new life. Everything was complete.

Except for one thing: meeting his soulmate.

He folded the letter and put it back in his school bag as he felt a light tugging sensation.

Hm? This feeling...is this what the letter was talking about, he asked himself.

The feeling grew stronger with each passing moment. He looked down at his watch, checking the time.

It’s time, he thought to himself.

He rose his head and he locked eyes with a figure that began to make its way over to him. His eyes widened, heart leaping with joy as he observed the person.

The wispy, dark purple hair.

The pale skin resembling that of a porcelain doll.

The plush pink lips.

The purple eyes that sparkled like stars in the night sky.

Immediately, Shuichi recalled everything from the killing game and the loops. He remembered feeling a connection to that person, the interactions they had, and the many times he let that person slip out of his grasp.

The person smiled upon seeing him and immediately, tears sprung up in his eyes.

He stood, a smile touching his lips as he extended his arms out. He watched as the person ran towards him, tears filling up in their eyes.

“Shuichi!”

The person fell into his arms soon after. Shuichi whirled them around, hugging them tightly. He buried his nose in their hair, the smell of grape shampoo filling his nostrils.

“Kokichi...” he choked out as tears spilled down his cheeks.

He gripped Kokichi tightly, fearing that if he let go, the former supreme leader would vanish into thin air.

Kokichi hugged him back just as tight as he spoke.

“I told you that I’d see you on the other side...” he muttered out.

Shuichi chuckled.

“I never doubted you for a second, Kokichi.” he said.

They pulled away from the hug as Shuichi cupped his cheeks. He watched as Kokichi began to cry, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m so happy...after all of the struggling we went through, we can finally be together...” he choked out.

“I know.” Shuichi replied.

Kokichi reached up to cup Shuichi’s cheeks as well, wiping away his tears before pulling him close. Their foreheads and noses were pressed against one as he looked up at him.

“I love you. I love you so, so much.” he whispered.

“I love you too, Kokichi.” Shuichi whispered back.

Kokichi giggled as Shuichi closed the distance between them, immediately melting into the kiss.

Kokichi kissed back as Shuichi let the world melt away, feeling himself being transported to a fantasy world where only him and Kokichi existed.

With this, everything felt right.

They didn’t have to worry about time loops nor the killing game.

They could be together without having to worry about Kokichi dying anytime soon.

They could be happy and live out the rest of their days with one another.

Shuichi could be with Kokichi.

And that made him the happiest person in the world.

♾ Ｆｉｎ ♾

[merryfortune]

Day 2 - Summer

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc V

Ship: Sayaka/Ruri

Alternate Universe: Into the Forest of Fireflies

Warnings: Fluff with a Sad Ending

Word Count: 2.4k

  The countryside appealed greatly to Sayaka. Always had and, as she planned ahead towards her future now that she was nearing the end of her high school career, always will. Though, there was a specific place, her aunt and uncle’s residence out way, way into the countryside where the grass was more gold than green and where the air was fresh. The lack of people appealed to her greatly; she felt like she could breathe, especially compared to the pollution-clogged streets of Heartland.

  But, Sayaka would admit with a blush in her cheeks, there was one person who did exist in the countryside: someone all for her.

  She had met this person – this girl – when she had been a child. Her name was Ruri and she didn’t exist. She was neither human nor a ghost. A willowy waif in between, wearing a yellow sundress and with feathers attached to her mask which was bird-like, specifically in the shape of a robin. She had been an adolescent when Sayaka had met her in the summer about a decade ago; or more accurately, twelve years ago now.

  Even though she was so much older than Sayaka, she had adored Sayaka’s presence in her life, as fleeting as it was. After all, Ruri had all the time in the world, in her own special way, but Sayaka’s time upon this Earth was even far more finite. After all, she was only human, even when she was teeny-tiny but in a different sense, she was finite in that she only had the summer. She would arrive at the end of the first week of June and then leave before the last week of August. It was pitiful but Sayaka didn’t mind. Nor did Ruri.

  The days of Sayaka’s childhood were halcyon. Breezy afternoons by the stream, watching birds and watching the clouds. Ruri knew how to do fortune telling using both of them; a spirit, a proper spirit, of the forest had taught her. Ruri was a child of the forest, she said. After all, she had been human once, but she never died. She simply transcended because the forest wanted to keep her, this tiny abandoned baby with a bottle milk and a jewelled ring to play with in a woven cane basket plied with stained white sheets. So, the spirits of the forest kept her, turned her into something else, and gave her that white mask she wore to signify that though she may look human, she wasn’t quite.

  Over the years, Sayaka would visit every summer. Summer quickly became her favourite season. She spent the autumns, springs, and winters yearning for the summer to return so that she may return to the wonderful side of the quiet and nearly enigmatic Ruri. At first, she wasn’t sure though but later, Sayaka became certain of it.

   She wasn’t solely in love with the summer, she was in love with Ruri too. After all, they had spent so many summers together, Sayaka was nearly as tall as Ruri now. Her age too, visibly but Sayaka feared that one day, she may surpass Ruri, grow older. It was a melancholic yearning which was why Sayaka resolved that not only would she spend the summers with Ruri, she would spend the other seasons together, as well. After all, she thought of this girl and this girl alone throughout it all.

  Sayaka thought – dreamed – of touching Ruri.

  Again, Ruri was only human in shape. She was like the moon: beautiful, luminescent, smiling, but completely and utterly untouchable. It was the price for her existence, transient yet seemingly endless. The spell placed upon her, to keep her in the forest filled with spirits who adored her was that she was forbidden to touch a human. If she should, she would disappear.

  But, Sayaka wanted to touch her anyway.

  There had been a close call in the past. When Sayaka was about eight, she was walking along the pier with Ruri, near the shallows, when she slipped. Ruri had gone to catch her hand and pull her back but then her heart stopped. She remembered that if her hand met Sayaka’s, she would disappear so, she let the young girl fall. Sayaka was drenched but she would rather be drenched than alone, but it was that moment, Sayaka realised, that she wanted to officiate her connection because to be touched and to touch others, she felt, was to be human. But to be Ruri, she had to forsake such a simple pleasure despite her deceptively human shape.

  To hold Ruri’s hand, to kiss her, those were the sweet, melancholic yearnings that Sayaka had in her quiet heart but for now, Sayaka cherished the time that she could spent with Ruri, side by side. For now, and hopefully, for as long as possible. As long as there were summers to be had, Sayaka would remember Ruri and love her.

  When summer came this year, Ruri seemed strange. Stranger than usual. Sayaka spieled about all her plans for after school. Ruri listened, saintly, and nodded her head. Yet, she sounded uncertain from behind her beaked mask. That made Sayaka a little nervous, right up until Ruri spun around, dress twirling, and breaking out into a flippant promise: tonight, would be the best night of any summer that they had ever had. And ever could have.

   “Let’s go to the summer festival tonight, Sayaka.” Ruri said.

  “Huh? Why? Isn’t it dangerous?” Sayaka replied, quivering.

  “What? No, not at all. It’s not different to the festivals that humans hold. In fact, we were inspired by them. In fact, sometimes, humans slip in anyway… You’ll be fine, dear. I’ll pick you up tonight so wear your best. We’ll meet here, like we always do.” Ruri said.

  “Alright…” Sayaka mumbled.

  She and Ruri parted thereafter. They had been hanging around the temple but once Ruri turned her back on Sayaka, she seemed to disappear completely before even moving off the temple’s threshold. The forest welcomed her back and somewhere, a wild bird sang sweetly. Sayaka’s heart trembled. Her heart swelled with elation: her first date with Ruri but her soul trembled; something about it bode ill.

  Regardless, Sayaka was able to produce her best clothes. Her aunt permitted her to wear her yukata; it was supposed to be saved for only the most special occasions as it was that precious to her and their family. It had belonged to her grandmother originally and was still in as stunning of a condition as when it had first been sewn. Sayaka felt almost unbecoming wearing it due to its legacy but at the same time, she felt beautiful in it. It was pale pink with a dual motif of feathers and flowers. With a smile, Sayaka’s aunt did up her hair in a high bun.

  Ruri had been waiting for Sayaka for some time when Sayaka returned to the nearly abandoned temple where they liked to play and hang out. Twilight had completely descended into the Earth by the time Sayaka arrived but Ruri thought she looked magnificent. She smiled girlishly, though her expression hidden by her mask, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear then extended a hand to Sayaka.

  Sayaka flailed her hands about, “You mustn’t, Ruri!” she murmured.

  Ruri giggled and she jerked her hand about. The ribbon she had tied around it began to loosen.

  “Here,” she said, “tie it around your wrist.”

  “O-Oh.” Sayaka murmured.

  She drew in closer and took the ribbon. It was of a soft, white material. With ease, Sayaka was able to tie it around her wrist similar to how Ruri wore it. She smiled up at Ruri and blushed.

  “Let’s go.” Ruri said.

  She tugged on the ribbon and like a child’s toy, Sayaka was tugged along with it. She was once more caught up in Ruri’s aura and she adored it. Together, they stowed away in the darkness and into the forest. Ruri led her through the woods where the grass crinkled pleasantly underfoot. The woods were dense but orange lights flickered just beyond them and soon enough, Sayaka felt as though she had set foot in a very familiar yet simultaneously alien town.

  The paths were stony underfoot and the bunting flapped above overhead. She looked around whilst Ruri gently led her through the crowds. Sayaka couldn’t help but look at everything at once in some vain attempt to absorb all the sights. Some of the people here looked just like her: completely human. Others had animal ears and others again had limbs in all the wrong proportions. Yet, everyone in this crowd meant peace and joy. Sayaka didn’t sense a malignant force amongst them. Everyone just wanted to enjoy the festival. Ruri must have been feeling similarly as she skewed her mask, allowing her face to feel the night air and allowing Sayaka to bask in the presence of her unbidden smile.

  The festival was loud and noisy. People crowded and clustered. Amongst them, musicians played their instruments and others sang. Vendors lined the streets, lit with orangey lamps and selling all sorts of things: food, games, costumes and more. Sayaka and Ruri drifted through, purchasing a bit of this and a bit of that. Mostly talking to one another, clinging onto the ribbon which bound them together no differently than the act of holding hands.

  It was a wonderful way to spend their time. Every moment had Sayaka’s heart racing. At the end of the night, she and Ruri watched the fireworks. They shot up and exploded into beautiful jets of gold and crimson. They whistled and spat, hissed and fizzled. The sparks bloomed ephemerally in no particular shapes or patterns, but they were still beautiful to watch as they drifted down against the inky black of the night sky speckled with silver stars.

  But even such beautiful and exciting things paled in comparison to the grace of Ruri. Her eyes looked gorgeous, lit up with awe and with the vanishing lights of the fireworks. Her lips were parted slightly in a wondrous smile and Sayaka watched Ruri watching the fireworks; a tentative observation. She wished, desperately, that she could kiss Ruri.

  Ruri must have noticed Sayaka staring. The fireworks were finished. Ruri pulled on the ribbon; Sayaka’s fingers quirked.

  “Let’s go visit the lake, it’s the right season for fireflies, yeah?” Ruri said.

  “Mmhm.” Sayaka replied.

  So, Ruri took off again with the wind in her hair. Sayaka trailed along, smiling, and they disappeared further into the forest again. When they arrived by the lakeshore, it was likely about midnight. Here, the night was pleasantly cool and balmy. The lake was still and lively with the reflections of the night sky: slowly shimmering stars and illuminated by the moon. And in such serenity, green lights – the lit tail ends – of fireflies drifted through the air.

  Sayaka was awed by the sight. Ruri was awed by the sight of Sayaka’s smile. Her heart ached and yearned in equal measure, perhaps even more, unto Sayaka.

  “Sayaka,” Ruri murmured, “I love you.”

  Sayaka’s eyes widened behind her glasses. She gasped and Ruri drew closer. She carried a cool air with her. She unlatched her mask from the crown of her head, and she placed it on Sayaka’s face. The light, white wood it was carved from bumped against the frames of her glasses. Sayaka swallowed hard as she squinted through her new, all-encompassing darkness.

  Ruri kissed the mask. She kissed the protrusions of the mask’s lips, just beneath the beak which jutted out. Her cheek slid beneath the beak, a gentle nuzzle as she kissed as soft and as hard as she could. She poured all her feelings into that kiss and it could have made her cry. Instead, it filled her with a sweet and earnest joy.

  She hoped that Sayaka knew that she was kissing her. She hoped that Sayaka liked the kiss when she drew back. Sayaka shivered slightly and she removed the mask. She clutched onto it tenderly.

  “That was wonderful, Ruri.” she said, tears in her eyes. “I love you, Ruri.”

  “I know, Sayaka, I love you too.” Ruri murmured.

  The fireflies around them flitted and before their feelings unto one another could unravel any further, they heard the squeal and laugh of children. They smiled and turned their head. A boy and a girl, no older than eight from the looks of them, dashed through. The girl sprinted ahead whilst her companion was unable to keep pace.

  The boy tripped and Ruri, without thinking, raced to his aide. She helped him up and he had grass stains up and down his legs, but he was fine. He thanked her and his friend called to him. Ruri let the boy go and soon enough, the pair of children disappeared.

  Just like Ruri.

  Sayaka watched in horror as specks of green light, no different to the lights the fireflies wore, began to break off from Ruri’s body. Sayaka screamed. She dropped the mask. It landed in the grass at her feet and Ruri turned around. And she smiled because of course she smiled.

  “Sayaka, it’s okay…” Ruri murmured. “I don’t think I had much time left anyway. I wasn’t meant to live this long but I’m glad I did because I got to meet you.”

  Her words were soft as those specks of light billowed off her. She sparkled in the night, no different to a firework or a firefly. She drew in closer and opened her arms.

  “Please? Sayaka?” Ruri said.

  “I understand.” Sayaka said.

  Her arms flung out and she embraced Ruri. She nuzzled in close and inhaled what was left of her scent. Sayaka buried her face in Ruri’s breast and held onto her tightly. Ruri reciprocated such a tight embrace. She finally felt contented; something she hadn’t truly felt in years as she had been plagued by her yearning.

  “Thank you, Sayaka. I love you. Please don’t forget me.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Sayaka sobbed as she was slowly brought to her knees.

  The lights drifted upwards and soon, Sayaka was by herself. Her scrawny arms wrapped around her own body where Ruri had been. She was gone. Sayaka bawled. All that remained of her dearest Ruri was the mask and the white ribbon, still entwined around Sayaka’s wrist and the other half piled in a loose curl but now, Sayaka had no one left to hold onto.

[invokingbees]

An Elder Scrolls Question

or, The Time I Nearly Zero-Summed Thinking About Wizards

Elder Scrolls was the series that got me into funky fantasy worldbuilding and lore, because just under the high fantasy surface, under the elves and castles and dragons and magic, the series is a nightmare stew of Gnostic Medieval Science Fantasy, replete with time traveling robots, lucid dreaming super powers and cat-men who climb to the moon using magic cocaine. And that’s why I like it so much, it gives me the best of both worlds: comfy high fantasy dungeon crawling and PhD level arcane metaphysics. I think that’s why many others like it, too, there’s Morrowind weirdness, Oblivion charm and Skyrim memes. Something for everyone.

Now I have actually a purpose to this post, and that purpose is, despite the various levels of eldritch funk, one big question seems completely left unanswered, a question the game never seems to get around to answering: how does the magic work?

Read on if you dare

Now that the weak and unwizardly have been warded off, let me elaborate. Magic in TES isn’t actually left completely unanswered. In TES, the universe is set up (more or less) in three big layers: Aetherius is the realm of magic and various special afterlives, Oblivion is the home of the inscrutable Daedra, and Mundus is the Mortal Realm where the plane(t) Nirn sits, upon which is Tamriel, the continent where all this stupid shit happens. Back in the day, the ancient spirit, or et’Ada, who designed Mundus at the behest of the demiurge-esque cheeky lad Lorkhan, became disgusted by it and left so hard he ripped a hole through Mundus, through Oblivion and into Aetherius, which is the sun. His followers went after him and their exit holes are the stars. It’s through these tears in the veil that magic energy, or magicka, seeps onto Nirn, into the beings living on it, making it positively juicy with raw fucking power. And thus, we get magic.

Only it’s not that simple. We have two parts of the equation, we have the energy source, this raw stuff of creation, magicka, and we have the wizards who sling fireballs and conjured daedra and reanimate the dead, but I ask you,

how

Fellow TES fan and mutual @colonel-killa-bee once gave me a reason, I think, and it was simply that magic is cast with willpower. You train your body and mind to do extraordinary things with extraordinary materials. And that makes sense, but not for everything, not to me. I’m gonna use the Skyrim schools of magic here because it’s been way too long since I’ve played either Morrowind and Oblivion to remember and I’m not doing research for a Tumblr post.

So to an extent, it makes sense. You use the sheer power of your will to take raw creative force and make it a stream of fire, or you take it and make an impenetrable ethereal skin, or you use it to change your make up and become  temporarily transparent. You can channel it into an exaggerated healing factor or a wall of diffusing force to absorb incoming spells. But these are all essentially physical constructs using a material. So the aim of this post is to not just ask questions, no no, it’s about making WILD assumptions armed only with my immensely rusty lore knowledge.

So, the school of Conjuration, is where the willpower thing starts to fall apart for me. The idea of this school, this avenue of practice, is to conjure and commune with spirits, namely the denizens of Oblivion, various daedra of lesser and major power. In Conjuration, you can’t keep such summoned forces over here too long, they usually just vanish back to their home plane(t). But why? Perhaps it is the willpower of the magician keeping them here which is run thin, or perhaps the caster expends a certain amount of energy creating a form for them manifest in which actually just runs out of juice, or the caster cannot keep a portal to Oblivion open for too long either by lack of concentration or some force in the world says no. But that kind of falls apart when you take into account spells that allow one to permanently conjure a daedroth until it is killed. How that works, I just can’t say. Necromancy makes more sense, simply infusing a corpse with energy to make it animate, creating mental connection between it and the caster, so it can follow commands. But soul trapping and soul gems? How is magicka utilized to trap the soul of an enemy? Is some invisible hook thrown out, connected to a soul gem? The gem itself I’m sure is the artifact of beings called the Ideal Masters, ascended necromancer weirdos or some shit, but the act of soul trapping and the transference into a soul gem is just not clear at all.

Scrolls are really weird, aren’t they? They require literally no experience or talent except for aiming, they’re ready made spells for anyone to use, they’re literally just utility in Morrowind in the case of recall and divine intervention. But how does that even work? Who makes these scrolls? My guess is they are themselves infused with enough magicka for the spell to be cast. But how does one cast them? Does just unfurling it work, or are there words to be spoken or gestures made? How can a scroll be created that is so easy to use that even a child could cast firestorm? These things are guns with no safety or magazine to unload. Don’t need actual guns when I can go to a fucking Whiterun general store and buy a scroll of invisibility so I can break into people’s houses and steal shit. SCROLL REGULATION WHEN

Now here’s the real stickler: rituals. Why and how do they work? By what process is the information of a ritual, the purpose of its performance, relayed to the daedra or whatever it’s intended for? This is the one that really throws a cog in the Willpower Machine to me. Ritual magic is highly specific and requires extreme preparation, ritual magic steeped in symbolic mysticism. So why does it work in TES? How does drawing a circle inscribed with strange runes and glyphs, speaking invocations and lighting candles allow one to commune with daedra? How does it bring back the dead? Is ritual and symbolism all merely completely artificial mental devices or focuses? Or do words and glyphs themselves hold power? Are they necessary to transmit contact to a daedroth? Why can’t a wizard of sufficient power simply yell at the night sky that they want to talk with Hermaeus Mora? Perhaps they are devices created and passed down by the daedra themselves, overly complicated ‘phone numbers’ they can take notice of.

This isn’t taking into account shit like Thu’um of Sword-Singing, being able to focus your ‘vital essence’, whatever THAT’S supposed to be, into a command for something to happen, or making a sword out of your own soul and nuking mountains with it. That stuff doesn’t even require magicka, though it’s possible they work through the same ‘willpower’ avenues but how they attain such bullshit level of power is beyond me. I guess the mortal mind is truly the most powerful tool in creation. I suppose this is summed up in CHIM, attainment of enlightenment, actual awareness that you’re a dream, a piece of a mind, pure willpower made manifest, and able to change it all...at will.

I may have just answered myself but I wrote all this and am posting it, I’d very much like to hear if I’m flat out wrong.