#them and the cast and the crew deserve the world for bringing this to us

[alltimefail]

Hi @netflix and @warnerbrostv! I'd like to talk about the show Supernatural and how its history and legacy can provide some insight on why you should reconsider your decision to end Dead Boy Detectives after one singular season.

Supernatural is undoubtedly one of the most successful television fantasy franchises, but many don't know that it was nearly cancelled after season 2. Thankfully (and luckily) for the network they didn't go through with cancelling the show and by season 4 it was regularly breaking viewership records. A show that was nearly cut short in its prime - much like Dead Boy Detectives - became one of the largest and most recognizable fandoms across social media platforms between the years of 2010 and 2014. The show was so wildly popular that a confession scene between two of its leading characters (Dean and Cas) is STILL used today in a meme format to circulate everything from fandom news to world politics and current events. You can't go to a single comic-con without running into something relating to Supernatural, and ever since its conclusion there has been an opening in the market for a show to take its place.

I can say with absolute certainty that, given the proper time to flourish, Dead Boy Detectives would be the show to fill the spot Supernatural has left behind. It has loads of charm alongside a sensational balance of action, whimsy, heartwrenching character development, and horror. Furthermore it is objectively better with representation than Supernatural was, which is always something embraced in fandom spaces (which are diverse and filled to the brim with queer, neurodivergent, and/or a wide range of people of color).

I also think it's fair to remind you that one of your most popular "Nerd" shows, Stranger Things, is coming to an end after a 10-year-run, leaving behind yet another gap to fill, but this time on your very own platform.

It isn't too late to reconsider the cancellation of Dead Boy Detectives. The fanbase is dedicated and hungry for more, and we know you are currently sitting on finished season 2 scripts, making it impossible for the writers to take this story anywhere else for quite some time. The scripts are there, the cast, crew, and writers love what they do and want to make more... there's simply no reason to not give Dead Boy Detectives the chance it deserves - this time with an entire fandom that wants nothing more than to consume this show, market the hell out of it, and buy merch relating to it (another win for you).

(Source x)

Oh and did I mention that Steve Yockey was a co-producer on Supernatural as well? You know, that wildly popular show I just told you about that lasted 15 seasons. You are sitting on a golden goose; Steve Yockey and Beth Schwartz, among the other talented writers, cast, and crew, know what they're doing.

Give this show its time and market it well and you will have a hit on your hands. Frankly just based on the steady, continual fandom growth since Dead Boy Detectives' release in April and the vocal outrage over its cancellation just in the last 24 hours, I'd argue you already have a hit on your hands that rivals several shows you currently have on your platform.

Dead Boy Detectives has one of the most active fandoms of the year - do the right thing by them and bring Dead Boy Detectives back. It isn't too late!

[ofmdrecaps]

07/13/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Taika Waititi; Florida Super Con: Vico & Samba; Dominic Burgess; Kristian Nairn; Christopher Corbin; Darby Family Foster Kittens; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards/AuxilleryWardrobe Zine Reminders; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika Gifs

Hey crew, today's a bit of short one, but I wanted to make sure there was some fun stuff up and about with everything going on.

== Taika Waititi ==

More shots of Taika directing Russell Crowe's show from a couple days back! You can buy tickets to the recorded concert and see at least a bit more Taika on the IndoorGardenParty website! Thank you to our crewmate @jimjim531969 for the screenshot!

Source: @JimJim531969's Twitter

== Florida Super Con: Vico & Samba ==

Samba and Vico are out at Florida SuperCon-- and as you can probably tell, they're having a great time! They're taking shots with all sorts of fans and other guests, including a certain set of What We Do In The Shadows TV Series friends! <3

Source: Samba & Vico's Instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic is keeping us fed with more cat photos!

Source: Dominic Burgess Twitter

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian also sharing some beloved pets -- and this time, a new addition to his family, Calypso!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Christopher Corbin ==

Hey! We haven't seen our "Magic" man Christopher Corbin in a while! He's out giving a tour to his bro Jim at Universal Studios!

Source: Christopher Corbin's Instagram

== Darby Family Foster Kittens ==

Today really is a feast for the eyes when it comes to kitties and pups! Rosie shared more foster kittens with us! I can't tell you how tempted I am to drive to CA and adopt some!

Source: Rosie Carnahan Darby's Instagram

== Articles ==

Thank you to ShowSnob for this article on why OFMD deserved an S3! And thank you to our friends over at NeverLeftPodcast for bringing it to the crew's attention!

Source: Never Left Podcast's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Our sweet @melvisik is keeping up the cast cards for us with another Emmy Submission! Albert Fox joins Mark and John "for Outstanding Music Composition in a Series for Mermen -AdoptOurCrew"

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

= Auxilery Wardobe Zine Reminders =

Reminder! The signups for the Stede Bonnet: Auxiliary Wardrobe Zine close in a week! You can still sign up until July 21! Sign Up Here!

Source: StedeBonnetZine Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, today was a day all around the world. I hope you're all doing okay. A lot of stuff happened that could have left you feeling a lot of hard feelings. I know it's concerning, and I know it's scary, especially the unknown of it all. If you can, today, take care of YOU. Take time to breathe, take time to eat well, and shower, and drink enough water. If you can, watch something funny, cry, whatever you need to do to feel okay. When the world is uncontrollable, and feels unreachable, and the future unknown, one of the best things you can do is take care of yourself and your loved ones. This is a good article on how to ground yourself, if you're feeling out of sorts. It says it's related to triggers but it can be anything really that you need to ground yourself from. The most important thing in the world is that you're safe, and you are okay, so please take care of you. If you need support, reach out to your crew, we all care about you and your well being.

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

I think today we could use a little boost. So here's Taika laughing his ass off at Rhys' ANYWHO, and Rhys having a bit of a grumble about ZADDY. I love these two so much, it's ridiculous. Gif courtesy of @ dallonismysavior <3

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/24/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&CrewSightings; Samba BTS; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Damien Gerard; Guz Khan!; SaveOFMD Crew Billboard; AdoptOurCrew Saturday Sillies; Making A Difference; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

Been a long Saturday yall. Hope you enjoyed the BTS and general clown/honking going around!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Samba Schutte Feat. David Jenkins! =

Samba's back with more BTS for us today!

This time the Crew Shoutout is for Chaos Dad himself: David Jenkins! So good to see Chaos dad having such a great time BTS. We love you David!

Videos on Tumblr:

Video 1

Video 2

Video 3

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys decided to take it up a notch today on his Tiktok/Instagram and tell... someone they've created a monster. Who might that be?

== Damien Gerard ==

Our crew-mate @patchworkpiratebear got a Cameo from our lovely Father-Teach, Damien Gerard! There's a bit of a story behind it, see below! Cameo link

== Guz Khan! ==

Hey! It's been a hot minute since we've seen our friend Guz Khan-- and now he's showed up on a cat! Good to see you sir!

== Save OFMD Crew ==

There have been questions raised about the billboard that the SaveOFMD Crew have been posting teasers for on their socials. The Crew had a meeting today wherein they discussed the concerns of the fandom, and have taken that feedback to heart. They are currently working on a clear information packet regarding the logistics of the current billboard efforts. They have kindly asked for your patience while they finish putting those last touches together!

== @adoptourcrew Saturday Sillies! ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew were kind enough to set up a new Saturday Sillies this week! This time they made custom OFMD Wordles! There were WAY too many images to include in the recap, so if you'd like to check them out, please visit the tumblr post below!

Wanna play? You can visit a tumblr post here

== Making a Difference! ==

Thank you to everyone who contributed to, or shared the fundraiser for Trans Pride Brighton! They've finally met their goal and can stay open another year! You made a serious difference in the lives of trans and non-binary folk in that community!

== Articles ==

Deze HBO-serie is gecanceld, maar had een 95% op Rotten Tomatoes

Schwule Romanze zwischen Piratenkapitänen

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. I hope you had a fun Saturday/Sunday wherever you are. I know some of you are already closing out the weekend. We made it through another day-- and there's all sorts of action going on across all the platforms. I hope you got a chance to have fun, but also to rest. I know you know this, but even though I do too I often forget it. Rest is so very important. It's so easy to burn out, especially when we're constantly exposed to so much online. I think to myself "oh it's fine I'll just get a few more things done" and then it's suddenly 3 hours later and I've had only 4 hrs sleep in the last 30. Please please please give yourself self care today. Go brush your teeth, or take a shower. If you feel like you can do more, brush your hair, or make yourself a nice cup of tea. Do something for you that makes you relax and feel rested. On your last day of the weekend, make sure to take a few moments to yourself and just remember how awesome you are. You may not feel like it sometimes, but I can tell you now you truly are Awe-some. You bring so much life and love to this world and you deserve all beautiful things you want. Anyway, I'm very sleepy and I'm rambling again (what's new). Sleep well and enjoy your day lovelies, see you tomorrow.

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

I'm being lazy tonight again yall. Just two goofy gifs that caught my eye, sorry I am running on fumes. Tomorrow I'll try to find some themed ones for ya <3

Rhys Gif: Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome

Taika Gif: ohnotheydidnt.livejournal

[lurkingshan]

Hi! I love reading your opinions and I have just started The Sign. What are your opinions on the show and what route are you hoping it would take for the second half of the show? Take care and happy new year!

Hello anon! You picked such an interesting moment to send this ask. We’re halfway through the show and I think its strengths and weaknesses have become fairly clear. Let's talk about it!

Strength: The Chemistry

I think this is the thing that had all the girlies losing it right out of the gate: Phaya and Tharn are hot and their interactions are hotter. The pull and chemistry between them is palpable and the set up for their romance is compelling. Kudos to whoever found Babe and decided to pair him with Billy: you, sir or madam, are incredible at your job and deserve a fruit basket. We are all dying for these two to finally fuck.

Weakness: The Pacing

Which is why it's kind of frustrating that the show is dragging its feet on letting their relationship advance. The first four eps were delicious tension-building, but as the show starts to stall and use dream sequence fakeouts to provide smut without actual relationship development, the audience is clearly getting antsy. The show's pacing is all over the place in general, with wildly varied episode lengths and inconsistent action and plot advancement from week to week. And the desire to drag out the romance without a compelling alternative plot to fill the show in its absence is causing some damage to the characters, most notably Tharn, who is just starting to seem unreasonably antagonistic to a person we know he likes, not to mention unperceptive in his continued inability to notice what is going on around him.

Strength: Production Values

This show is absolutely gorgeous; you can tell most of the money went into making every frame of it beautiful. The strength of the production values and hard work of the crew to create the look and feel of the world was evident from the first episode with all those beautiful training sequences on the beach. And this is used to particularly strong effect whenever we visit Phaya and Tharn's past lives and see the magical world that exists around them come to life.

Strength: The Supporting Cast

The show also has a great ensemble, with Yai especially a standout character who brings a lot of fun to the show, along with his girlfriend Sand and the police squad bros. This is not surprising, as big, messy, chaotic, endearing queer friend groups are an IdolFactory staple. As of last week, we officially have a lesbian side pairing! Tharn and Phaya also have interesting family histories with sweet grandmas and loved ones who lend depth to their characterization.

Weakness: The Copaganda

It was perhaps too much to expect that this bl about cops would have a more sophisticated perspective on law enforcement, institutional corruption, and the so-called "justice" system, but that does not stop me from groaning out loud every time they pause the story to let these characters wax poetic about the nobility of their jobs.

Strength: Thai Folklore

This show is teaching all of us some things about real Thai folklore about the garuda and nara, including local customs associated with celebrating these tales, and the depiction of these stories in the show is just beautiful. Despite it basically being a tourism advert (complete with couple shirts for no reason??), I really enjoyed the episode that took us to Nong Khai and the Mekong River to see how modern Thai folks interpret and celebrate the myths at the center of this show’s story and ground us in something real.

Weakness: An Underdeveloped Take on Toxic Masculinity

This show uses violence quite a lot in its story, including violence in interpersonal dynamics, and it sometimes seems to want us to be alarmed by uncontrolled male anger, and sometimes impressed by it. At this point, Tharn and Phaya have both struck each other in anger during personal disagreements, and there hasn't been any real reckoning with the fallout of that. On top of that, the show has given us some crime cases that highlight the harm of toxic masculinity while also seeming to glorify and revel in it, most notably in the framing of a man who kidnapped and retraumatized sexual assault victims as a hunky folk hero. It's a confused take, to say the least, and I'm not sure the show has the depth and precision necessary in the writing to take on some of what it's throwing at the wall.

Strength: Villains

All I can say is Heng was born to play an evil snake god. The show has done a good job at making him feel like a real threat and building the antagonism between him and Phaya to the point where Phaya has been isolated from support and made to look crazy in front of Tharn. Dr. Slow Motion is very good at this.

So, what's the TL; DR? This show is a lot of fun, but has some obvious weaknesses in the writing, so do your best not to take it too seriously if you can. I am ready to see Phaya and Tharn get together and finally start working as a team, for the full backstory and epic battle they are waging to come out, and for the motivations of the rest of the cast of characters to become clear (I just know there are some additional past life reincarnations waiting to be revealed). It's a great time if you don't think about it too hard, and I really hope the back half will pick up the pace so that we can all just enjoy the ride.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some thoughts for a Dead Boy Detective D&D AU:

Edwin: He would absolutely be a School of Necromancy wizard. Everything about him screams wizard, and I think him being a necromancer who uses his abilities for good would be pretty in-character for him. In fact, we could even go one step further and say that he's a Reborn (who are essentially the D&D version of Frankenstein's Monster, and they are insanely cool and fun from a roleplay stance alone). Maybe he got brought back to life after some time in Hell, maybe he was able to bring himself back... there's a lot of possibilities there.

Charles: Oath of the Watchers paladin, hands-down. I know, most people tend to peg him as a fighter, but hear me out---first off, he canonically fights with a magical weapon, and you know it would be cool as hell for him to cast Smite with his cricket bat. Second off, his whole deal as a Dead Boy Detective feels very Oath-of-the-Watchers coded, since they're all about guarding the material world from extraplanar forces. And third... he's a punk. Paladins are punks. Also, he's gotta be an elf. Probably a wood elf instead of a high elf, but elf is non-negotiable when you're putting Charles I-Have-Cute-Pointed-Ears Rowland in a fantasy setting.

Crystal: Aberrant Mind sorcerer, kalshatar. Because, well... *gestures to her everything* yeah. Also, Crystal deserves to go full-on eldritch entity.

Niko: I personally think that she'd be an amazing College of Creation bard---and this might just be because that's my favorite subclass for my favorite class, and she's my favorite character, but she feels very bard to me, and College of Creation is all about seeing the beauty in the world, appreciating life, and making the most out of any situation, which fits our girl well. Also, I think that Niko would probably be the group's token human, which fits nicely with her being the only non-magical member of the Dead Boy Detectives in canon.

Monty: Circle of Stars druid, kenku. Theoretically, a kenku who could actually converse with people instead of just repeating what he hears, but... astrology crow. What do you want me to say.

Jenny: She was tricky, but I eventually decided that she'd be your classic tiefling rogue---specifically, a Soulknife rogue, with maybe a level or two of fighter thrown in there for good measure. Jenny gives off the vibes of a slightly older adventurer who's kind of grown cynical about the whole thing, but she's still tagging along with a younger, more starry-eyed crew because somebody needs to keep them alive.

Esther: Now, while the temptation to make her a Green Hag is very, very strong, I think that might be doing her a little bit too dirty. So, instead, she's a Circle of Spores druid and a Great Old One warlock, and while she is a regular human, she's done a lot of messed-up stuff to keep herself alive and young. I figured that Circle of Spores fits with her necromancy shtick (and also, y'know, Teeth Face), and GOOlock fits with her deal with Lilith.

The Cat King: Trickster Domain cleric, tabaxi. No-brainer, really.

The Night Nurse: Her whole deal strikes me as very Protector aasimar-coded, if not straight-up Celestial-coded. Also, she fits the criteria for a Grave Domain cleric to a T.

[emeryhiro]

Hi. I love your analysis of the episodes and the trailer. I love what we got. But I don't quite understand why Daryl says that he and Isabelle talked so that the three of them could go to America. If she wants Daryl to stay, she manipulates him. If Daryl is angry and cold with her. where did this family "three of them together" come from. It's weird and destroys all my expectations for Caryl.

Hey Anon😊

Thank you for the kind words 🩵

Unfortunatly I can't give you a sure answer but I'll share and explain my opinion/thoughts on it.

I agree with you on the fact that this line feels out of place and doesn't really make sense in terms of where the story and characters are going.

To put it in simple terms I think this is just Daryl trying to have his cake and eat it too. But to be more specific, I believe that as he starts to see the cracks in the Nest's system, he'll also start to realise the danger that Laurent is in, and we can't deny that he cares for the kid and feels a sense of responsibility for him because he knows Laurent wasn't raised for that world and wouldn't really make it long without Daryl around to teach him.

We also know for a fact that Daryl wants to go home, cast and crew have said this many time, and Norman even said it again yesterday in their SDCC IGN interview (timestamp 2:15).

So we know that Daryl want's to go home, that he doesn't think he'd ever be happy in France, and that he can't stay in France, but we also knows that he can't leave Laurent behind while he's in danger, he's not that guy, especially with Genet's impending attack which Laurent would never survive.

If he can't leave without Laurent, his next best option is to take Laurent back to America with him and away from all conflict, somewhere where he knows he can get what he wants (being with his family), keep Laurent safe, and give him a regular childhood in the commonwealth. At the same time, however, he also knows that as long as Isabelle is alive, Laurent wouldn't leave her, and also Daryl wouldn't feel right separating a child from the only biological family he has left. Which is how I think he came to the conclusion that the best thing he can do is to take both of them.

I dont expect his plans for the "three of them together" to go anywhere. I think that's just Daryl being naive and overly pessimistic about what he can achieve.

Regarding how he feels about Isabelle, I know that he can sense he's being used and manipulated but it's now too late for him to get out of this on his own, he's now emotionally invested in Laurent and can't bring himself to leave him, which is what Isabelle wanted all along. I've mentioned this a few times before, and I'll say it again, I believe that the longer he spends away from Carol the more he regresses into his old self, and that version of Daryl would have accepted this treatment from Isabelle becasue he wouldn't have believe that he deserved any better. We see this same pattern of behaviour develop between Daryl and Leah when he was in the woods, searching for Rick, and away from Carol for years. I know there's a lot more to both these situations which I may write it's own post about instead of making my response here unberably long to read.

Once Carol and Daryl are reunited, he'll start to think clearly again, because firstly, Carol would see right through Isabelle and never stand for or allow the manipulation, and secondly, once Daryl see's Carol again, there will be no more distractions, he's mindset will heal and completely shift, and like always Carol will be his number one priority, not Laurent, not the Nest, and definitly not Isabelle.

Yes, he'll still want to help/save them, but never at the expense of Carol and her safety. I expect that there will be some conflict between Carol and Daryl, or as Norman describes it, some "bickering like an old married couple", which I guess would revolve around:

The two of them finally being reunited and having the chance to leave without further risk, and

Daryl feeling guilty about leaving before he resolves things at the Nest and making sure that Laurent is safe and set.

However, untimetly I think the choice would be up to Carol and Daryl would follow her no matter what she decides. And in her true selfless nature, Carol would never leave before helping the people that Daryl cares about, especially if she see's him so torn about it.

And also hypothetically, even if the 3 of them did make it back to the US/Commonwealth, Isabelle would never be able to manipulate and abuse Daryl again, not while he's around and empowered by Carol and the rest of their family.

~~~

I hope this makes sense, and that I explain myself well, I know I sometimes have the habit of getting carried away 😅 I completely understand your frustration, I sometimes feel that way myself but in circumstances like this where something seem's out of character I personally just try to both look at the bigger picture and delve into what I know about the character.

Please feel free to let me know you thoughts on what I've said, even if you agree or diagree, or if there was anything else you'd like to discuss. I always enjoy these discussions and seeing different persepctives🩵

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hear me out on this please

TADC crew x itward like reader

If you want to ignore this request you can I totally understand lol

TADC cast x itward type! Reader

Imma be so real with you anon originally I was gonna save this request for later since I have ZERO ideas (funny since fran bow as a game has had a choke hold on me since it released) but then I realized I can be evil and introduce people to the game

Anyways guys go play fran bow! Or better yet theres a full fandub, as well as several lets plays on YouTube!! I also recommend little misfortune as it's made by the same creators and takes place in the same universe!

Kind of wrote this as their general thoughts and dynamic with you since I struggled a lot with thinking of romantic stuff with them, especially with characters that I dont think would like. Be interested in characters like itward

CAINE:

You guys. Can talk up a storm, I think. Literally it's just you two "interrogating" one another and learning more about each other. As scared as you are of the current situation at hand, you can't help but be intrigued by everything, including the self proclaimed ring master!

Curiosity is damned, damn you curiosity/ref

Your curiosity ends up with you learning as nearly as much caine is willing to let on about the digital world...

Thinks

Two well dressed fellows, as well.. bonus if you have a red suit like itward so you kinda match with Caine

Caine loves watching you build your little machines, too, usually hovers over your shoulder

POMNI:

Sure you might not be able to fly away in a flying ship and return to the real world, but who's to say you cant make your own exit..? Possibly manipulate the code or something...! Sure you're main thing is machinery and technology, but theres usually some level of coding in there... so you and pomni team up to try to come up with a plan... honestly you probably lightly scold her when you find out she tried to leave, knowing ragatha needed help. On one hand you cant bring yourself to fully blame her, but on the other you would rather try to escape with everyone, you know? Pomni is sometimes put off by your odd nature, though... not enough to push her away from working with you though!!

RAGATHA:

You guys bond over your shared interested in sewing! You both make plushes! For you it's more so for gift giving, and for ragatha she does it to pass time! I like to think you guys both have nights where you just hang out, either in her room or yours, and just. Chat and sew! Probably finds your weirdness a little endearing in it's own way; afterall never once were you malicious, in fact you're quite kind to everyone around you and are more than willing to offer second chances even to those who dont deserve it. You and ragatha would be really good friends, I think!

JAX:

Finds your weirdness a little annoying and he probably asks you a ton of stupid questions on purpose. Probably asks a stream of dumb ones before asking one he knows will peak your interest, but insist he needs to go do something when you start answering. That aside he has probably asked if you could build him a funky little gadget (that he totally wont use for mischief).. probably tries to get all buddybuddy with you because he knows you wont give it to him for the...actual reason he wants

You personally dont hate him, but theres no real solid friendship there I think

KINGER:

Ah, the two strange father figures! Both with funky interests; kingers is bugs and yours is forks! ....okay well it's hard to combine those two interest so I guess we can use a different one, mechanics! You've definitely made kinger wind up robotic bugs before, and the fact it made him happy makes you happy! You guys both have a habit of spacing out, though on different levels and for different reasons...you both mutually keep an eye on one another, though!

You've probably dreamed of building a flying machine and escaping this place at least once, leaving with kinger. Too bad the reality isnt going to be that simple.. besides you'd bring everyone with you anyways

ZOOBLE:

honestly they get annoyed how sometimes you dont give direct answers and be vague when you're asked for a solution. It's not that you're trying to be malicious or incompetent, youre just trying to push for everyone to get creative and explore the world around them themselves, you know? Finds it a little off how you sometimes zone out, as if youre thinking about a dozen things at once... but nonetheless, zooble cant bring themselves to hate you. In fact you have this weird comforting aura around you.

GANGLE:

Youre so so nice with her and always trying to build her up. And honestly I think that's so sweet. Hugs. Give hugs! Side note I bet itward gives the most comforting hugs so by extension the reader gives the most comforting hugs!! You're always there to stand up for her, too, when people *cough cough jax* are mean to her. You probably also try to helo her make a new mask... not like "oh you help her fix her masks" no I mean like you try to make her a mask that's made of a stronger material so it's harder to break

Honestly I cant see a romantic relationship between a reader like this and gangle, I personally see it more as close friends or even found family

[amberaddict]

I was heartbroken when I heard the news that there will not be a Slayers: A Buffyverse Story Season 2.

For fans of Buffy it gave us a chance to reconnect with much loved characters and the superb cast who played them. The production values were excellent along with the superb writing which gave us a way to experience characters that we thought had gone for good. It gave them new voices and in some cases new beginnings.

It did this all with supernatural thrills and spills mixed with raw emotion romance danger and laughter. Like the series it threw curveballs it had the audience laughing when they felt like they should be crying and vice versa.

Wonderfully brought to life by a magnificent cast who love the characters they played and the world of the Buffyverse as much as the fans.

Slayers was the number 1 most listened to product on the Audible platform in the USA, UK and Australia when it was released. I believe I'm correct in saying it was also the number one product on the Audible platform in all of 2023. So from a commercial standpoint it makes no sense to cancel something that was so popular.

There is some speculation that Disney want to clear the way ahead of a new version of Buffy for television or more likely streaming.

If this theory is correct the decision to cancel Slayers makes no sense either in my opinion. Even if they moved at a brisk pace at a rough estimate any TV series is at least two years away by the time they cast, film and market it ready for release. During that time a series like Slayers keeps the Buffy brand in the public eye in a very positive way and makes its parent company money. Whereas the decision to cancel Slayers alienates loyal fans and in my opinion makes them less likely to support a new show.

Other franchises such as Star Trek and Star Wars have had multiple TV or streaming shows running almost parallel. Along with a wide selection of books comics and even animated series. All exploring different parts of the universe and/or set in a particular part of the shows timeline. If franchises as big as the ones I just mention can do this with success then why must Buffy put all of its creative eggs in one basket? Slayers was and is accessible to fans old and new and it wouldn't prevent interest in a new series if anything it would enhance it. Another theory being put forward is multiple products could cause "confusion". In my view this is nonsense give your audience some credit fans of other franchises are doing this so why not Buffy fans?

Both financially and creatively Disney's decision and its apparent refusal to give any clear reason as to why there will not be a Season 2 makes no sense to me. Once again the only ones who lose out here are the fans an incredible cast and crew who who worked hard to bring us all back together. They gave us so much joy.

I urge Disney to reconsider their decision and give Slayers: A Buffyverse Story the Season 2 it deserves.

Joe

[ironwitchpainter]

Star Trek: Planetary Perception and Pursuit, Episode 4: The Rollercoaster Experience

The Enterprise streaks through the cosmos, the stars blurring into lines of light as it travels at maximum warp speed back to Earth. The journey is filled with a mix of anticipation and exhaustion, the crew eager to share their tale and process the profound events that have unfolded. Upon their arrival in Earth's orbit, the ship is met with a flurry of activity as the planet's defenses acknowledge the return of their flagship. The order is given, and the Enterprise descends into the embrace of the Starfleet docking bay, its engines powering down with a sigh of relief. The moment the docking clamps engage, the crew is informed that shore leave has been granted.

McCoy, still standing by Kirk's side, looks over at the captain with a raised eyebrow. "I don't suppose you'd consider staying in sickbay for a bit of R&R?" His Southern drawl is laced with the hint of a challenge. "You've earned it, and I'd sleep better knowing you're not going to keel over the moment we step foot on Earth."

Kirk chuckles, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the bridge. "Bones, I appreciate the concern, but I'm feeling fit as a fiddle." He winks at McCoy. "Besides, you know I can't resist the charm of Earth. I've got a feeling we're all going to have a nice, low-key time. We've dodged enough bullets and kissed enough dragons for one day." He claps his hands together, the sound sharp and final. "Now, let's get down there and enjoy some well-deserved rest and relaxation. I'm sure we won't find any trouble on good ol' Terra Firma."

With the ship safely docked, Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock prepare to beam down to the countryside of Earth. The transporter room is filled with the comforting hum of the transporter as the three officers stand side by side on the pad. Kirk's eyes are alight with excitement, while McCoy looks slightly skeptical, and Spock maintains his usual stoic demeanor. The world outside the ship awaits them, a stark contrast to the alien landscapes they've just left behind. The countryside of Earth offers a serene backdrop of rolling hills, lush forests, and the occasional distant farmhouse - a reminder of the simplicity and beauty of the planet they fight to protect.

McCoy, as the transporter effect fades, looks around with a sigh of relief. "Ah, fresh air," he says, inhaling deeply. "And no more temporal shenanigans, I hope." He looks over at Kirk, who's staring into the horizon, a look of quiet contemplation on his face. "Jim, you alright?"

Kirk blinks, bringing himself back to the present. "Yeah, Bones," he says, his voice a bit distant. "Just thinking about the choices we've made, and the future we've shaped." He turns to face McCoy and Spock. "I've got a feeling we're going to need to keep our wits about us, even on Earth. We've changed history, after all."

As the three officers, Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock, disembark from the transporter pad, they find themselves on the lush, green grounds of a quaint farmhouse. The building is nestled among rolling hills, surrounded by a patchwork of fields and forests. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the landscape, and the scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming flowers fills the air. A gentle breeze whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying the distant sounds of animals settling down for the night. The farmhouse itself is a picturesque example of human architecture, with its whitewashed walls and thatched roof, standing as a bastion of simplicity amidst the complexities of the cosmos they've just left behind. It's a stark contrast to the gleaming steel corridors of the Enterprise, and yet, it holds a certain allure, a promise of rest and respite from the stars.

The farmhouse before them is not just any ordinary abode; it holds a special significance to Captain Kirk. This is the place where he was born and raised, the very same farm in rural Iowa that shaped him into the man he is today. The house stands tall and proud, a silent witness to the countless battles he's fought, the lives he's touched, and the history he's shaped. It's a place where Kirk can find peace, surrounded by the memories of his youth and the warmth of his humanity. The porch creaks with age, the garden is overgrown with flowers that seem to nod in welcome, and the old oak tree in the backyard stretches its branches out like welcoming arms. This is where the legend of Captain James T. Kirk began, and it's where he finds solace amidst the infinite vastness of space.

As Kirk approaches the farmhouse door, his hand reaching out to grasp the weathered wood, it seems to resist his touch. It's as if the very fabric of the house is hesitant to let him in, to acknowledge the man he's become. With a grunt, he gives it a firm tug, and the door slowly creaks open. On the other side, an Andorian stands, his antennae twitching with curiosity. Dressed in the traditional attire of an Earth farmer, the blue-skinned alien looks utterly at home amidst the rustic setting. His eyes widen in surprise as he recognizes the captain. "Captain Kirk!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of astonishment and joy. "What brings you here?"

It's Yagi's father, a member of the Andorian contingent on Earth who had befriended Kirk's own father. The Andorian's presence here is a poignant reminder of the diverse tapestry of life that now calls Earth home. His eyes are filled with the warmth of a long-lost friend as he takes in the sight of the man who had once been a young boy playing under his care. "I was just tending to the crops," he says, a broad smile spreading across his face. "But I can see you've had quite the adventure."

The scene unfolds, and it gradually becomes clear that in this altered timeline, this is not Kirk's childhood home but rather the family house of Lieutenant Yagi. The farmhouse, though familiar in its quaint charm, holds a different set of memories, a different history, a different warmth. The pictures on the walls, the layout of the rooms, the very air carries the essence of a life Kirk knew nothing about. The realization sinks in as the captain steps inside, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings. This is where the story of Yagi's youth was written, a story that Kirk now feels a part of, woven into the fabric of his own life by the threads of fate and friendship.

Kirk's communicator chirps to life in his pocket, and he pulls it out with a sense of urgency. "Yagi, come in," he says into the device. There's a moment of static before a voice, filled with confusion, responds. "Yagi here, Captain. What's the situation?" Kirk's expression softens, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Look around you, Lieutenant. Wherever you thought you were going to visit your family, they're not there. They're here, with us. The timeline has shifted, and we're all connected in ways we never could have imagined."

The voice on the other end of the communicator is a mix of shock and amazement. "Understood, Captain," Yagi says, his tone reflecting the gravity of the revelation. "We're beaming down now. I'll... I'll be there shortly." The line goes silent, and Kirk pockets the communicator, looking over at McCoy and Spock. "Well, gentlemen," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "it seems we've got an impromptu family reunion on our hands."

Kirk steps into the farmhouse, his eyes taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings. He addresses the Andorian farmer with a mix of wonder and concern. "But if Yagi's family is here, where's mine?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his own displacement. "The timeline... it's changed, hasn't it?" His gaze drifts to the pictures on the walls, the unmistakable Andorian artifacts that speak of a life intertwined with humanity in a way he had never known. The warmth in the room seems to intensify, as if the very walls are welcoming him into a new chapter of his life's story.

Yagi's father, the Andorian, tilts his head in curiosity. "Your family, Captain?" he asks, his voice filled with gentle confusion. "I believe they've been relocated to Tarsus. After the incident, it was deemed safer for them to be closer to the diplomatic envoy." He looks around the room, his smile fading slightly. "But fear not, your presence here is a testament to the strength of the bonds you've formed. You are part of our family now, too."

Kirk nods, processing the information. He looks out the window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. "Tarsus," he murmurs to himself. "Home is where the heart is, I suppose." He turns back to the Andorian, his expression resolute. "Thank you for looking after this place, for being part of the fabric of this new history." His eyes flick to McCoy and Spock, who have remained silent, allowing the captain to process the revelation. "I guess we'll have to make the most of this unexpected turn of events."

McCoy, his hand on Kirk's shoulder, offers a reassuring squeeze. "Home's where you make it, Jim," he says, his voice warm and steady. "And it seems we've got ourselves a whole new set of memories to make here." He looks around the room, taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting sights. "But first things first," he adds, turning to the Andorian. "I'm guessing we could all use a good meal and some rest. You wouldn't mind if I use your kitchen to whip up something hearty, would you?"

The Andorian farmer, still smiling, gestures towards the kitchen with a sweep of his arm. "Please, make yourselves at home," he says. "I've got plenty of fresh produce from the fields, and I'm sure we can rustle up something delightful." The room feels alive with the promise of shared experiences and new beginnings, as the three officers begin to unpack their bags and settle into their unexpected lodgings.

The transporter room aboard the Enterprise is a whirl of activity as Yagi and the rest of the team prepare to beam down. His mind racing with questions, he can't help but feel a strange sense of excitement and belonging as he hears Kirk's words. The transporter effect engulfs them, and moments later, they materialize in the farmhouse's backyard, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the ship's sterile environment. They looks around, seeing their teammates - their friends - standing before them, all looking as surprised as he feels.

Spock, ever the logical voice of reason, raises an eyebrow at the new revelation. "Indeed, Captain," he says, his tone measured. "It appears that our actions have not only affected the future of Organia but also the personal histories of each of us." He glances around the room, noticing the subtle differences that speak of a life intertwined with Andorians. "This... unexpected development will require careful consideration and adaptation."

Kirk turns to face Yagi, his eyes warm with a genuine smile. "Welcome home, Lieutenant," he says, extending a hand. "I know it's not the reunion you were expecting, but sometimes, the universe has a way of bringing us to where we truly belong." He glances around the room, his gaze lingering on the Andorian farmer. "It seems we've been granted the opportunity to be part of something greater than ourselves. To build bridges where once there were walls." He gestures to the table, laden with a feast of Earthly and Andorian delights. "Let's sit, share a meal, and get to know our new family a bit better, shall we?"

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, having settled into the warm embrace of the farmhouse, find themselves drawn into a discussion about their plans for shore leave. The trio sits around the wooden table, the light from the flickering candles dancing in their eyes as they speak. Kirk, ever the optimist, had envisioned a simple visit to his childhood home, a chance to reconnect with his roots and perhaps indulge in a bit of fast driving. Spock, on the other hand, had planned to visit a library, to immerse himself in the vast pool of knowledge that is human literature, while McCoy had his heart set on a quiet retreat, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature and the gentle hum of medical technology as he caught up on his research.

As the evening deepens and the stars come out to play, the conversation shifts to the myriad of possibilities that Earth has to offer. "Why not see the sights?" Kirk suggests, his eyes alight with excitement. "We could ride a roller coaster, visit the zoo, or explore the vast treasure troves of knowledge that are the museums. Or perhaps," he adds with a mischievous glint, "try our hand at ice skating. It's a human tradition, a dance on the frozen surface of water. It's exhilarating, and I guarantee it'll make you feel alive."

Spock, his gaze thoughtful, considers Kirk's proposal. "While I appreciate the cultural significance of such activities, Captain, I had intended to utilize this shore leave to further understand human emotions through literature. The works of Shakespeare, perhaps, or the philosophical musings of Earth's ancient thinkers." He pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Though, I concede that experiencing new physical sensations could also provide valuable insight into the human condition."

Kirk grins at Spock, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit, Spock," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Embracing the unexpected, that's what life's all about. And who knows, maybe you'll find a newfound love for the thrill of the rink or the roar of a car engine." He winks. "But, of course, I'll respect your need for intellectual pursuits. Maybe we can find a way to blend the two, eh?"

Yagi's antennae twitch with excitement as they speak up, a local attraction coming to mind. "Captain, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock, I've heard of a place that might just serve both purposes. It's called the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders'. It's a blend of Earth's past and present, with thrilling rides, a virtual library filled with the greatest works of literature, and even an ice skating rink. It's a celebration of diversity and unity, a place where all species can come together to enjoy themselves and learn about each other." Their eyes shine with enthusiasm. "It's not too far from here, and I'm sure it'd be an enlightening experience for us all."

McCoy snorts, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "A 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders' way out here in the sticks?" He looks around the room, taking in the simple yet charming decor of the farmhouse. "Well, I'll be darned. I didn't think we'd find anything like that around these parts. But you know what, Yagi? That sounds like just the kind of crazy Earth adventure we could all do with right now." He gets up from his chair, stretching his legs. "Count me in. After all, it's not every day you get to see Shakespeare performed by Andorians, or Spock trying to land a space hopper."

Spock raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, his curiosity piqued. "A synthesis of cultural education and physical exertion," he muses. "It is an... intriguing proposition." He turns to Yagi's father. "Would you care to join us in this exploration of human customs?"

The Andorian farmer's smile broadens at the invitation. "Indeed, I would be most honored," he replies, his antennae waving in delight. "It's been quite some time since I've had the pleasure of witnessing the diversity and unity that such gatherings bring. Plus," he adds with a twinkle in his eye, "I've always had a soft spot for Earth's peculiar pastimes."

Kirk nods in agreement, his eyes reflecting the excitement of the group. "It's settled then," he declares, pushing back his chair. "We'll make a day of it tomorrow. Now, let's get some rest. We've got a full plate of experiences waiting for us, and I, for one, intend to savor every moment." He looks around the table, his gaze lingering on each of his friends. "This place, this new history we've found ourselves in, it's a gift. And I, for one, am not going to waste a second of it."

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filters through the windows of the farmhouse, the aroma of a hearty breakfast fills the air. Yagi's father, dressed in his usual farmer's attire, approaches the table with a steaming pot of coffee. "Please," he says, gesturing for everyone to help themselves. "Call me Thrall." The simplicity of the gesture, asking them to use his first name, speaks volumes about the trust and kinship that has grown between them overnight. The room buzzes with energy as the officers discuss their plans for the day ahead, the promise of the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders' a beacon of excitement in the otherwise serene landscape.

With the warmth of Thrall's hospitality filling their hearts, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and the others set off for the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders', a place where the past and present of Earth converge in a whirlwind of color and sound. The journey is a short one, the farmhouse's antiquated charm giving way to the futuristic sights and sounds of the 23rd century as they approach the sprawling entertainment complex. The carnival's neon lights pierce the early morning gloom, beckoning them with the promise of adventure and discovery. The air is filled with the laughter of children, the tantalizing smells of exotic foods, and the distant hum of alien languages mingling with the familiar twang of Earth's diverse dialects.

As they arrive at the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders', Spock finds himself genuinely intrigued by the myriad of sensory stimuli that assaults his Vulcan senses. "Fascinating," he murmurs, his gaze taking in the vibrant tapestry of life before them. "This place appears to be a microcosm of the Federation itself, a blend of species and cultures coming together to share in the pursuit of knowledge and entertainment." His voice carries a tone of curiosity, a rare emotion for a Vulcan. "The interweaving of such disparate elements into a cohesive and harmonious experience is indeed... enlightening."

McCoy's eyes light up at the sight of the carnival, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Looks like we're in for a real hoot!" he says, clapping his hands together. "A place that combines the thrills of the future with the charm of the past, and serves up a dash of Shakespeare on the side? Count me in, folks!" His Southern drawl thickens with excitement as he surveys the rides and attractions. "Let's not forget, we're here to have some fun, too."

Spock turns to Kirk, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You seem particularly eager for this 'roller coaster' experience, Captain," he says, one eyebrow arched. "I must admit, I am somewhat... intrigued by the concept of voluntarily subjecting oneself to such intense gravitational forces."

Kirk laughs, the sound rich and hearty. "Spock, my friend, you've got to live a little!" He claps Spock on the shoulder. "You can't always be in a library or a lab. Sometimes you've got to throw caution to the wind and just... ride the roller coaster of life!" He winks, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, if you don't come with us, you'll miss out on the thrill of watching Bones scream like a little girl when we hit those loops!"

McCoy snorts, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I'll have you know, Kirk, that I can handle a little excitement," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if I'm going to be scared out of my wits, I'd rather it be because of a medical emergency than some contraption designed to make you feel like you're about to fly apart at the seams."

Spock's gaze remains steady on Kirk, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Very well, Captain. I shall endeavor to experience this 'roller coaster' for the sake of understanding human behavior in... exhilarating situations." He nods to McCoy. "And perhaps, Doctor, the experience will provide some insight into the physiological responses to fear and excitement."

With Kirk's infectious enthusiasm leading the way, the group of friends make their way through the bustling carnival crowd, weaving past stalls of alien delicacies and throngs of laughing children. The air is alive with the clang of metal, the screams of delight from those already on the rides, and the tantalizing smells of funnel cakes and other Earthly treats. They arrive at the gleaming roller coaster, a colossal structure that spirals into the sky like a serpent made of steel. The ride's name, "The Celestial Whirlwind," flickers in neon lights above the entrance, and the line of eager participants snakes around the base, a mix of humans and various alien species all dressed in a riot of colors that reflect the carnival's vibrant spirit.

As they wait their turn, Kirk and McCoy exchange stories of their past carnival experiences, their voices filled with laughter and nostalgia. Spock listens intently, his curiosity growing with each anecdote. Yagi's family, watching the exchange with fondness, shares tales of Andorian festivals and the thrills they too seek out. Thrall, in particular, speaks of a gravity-defying sport played on the ice fields of Andoria, drawing parallels to Kirk's description of the roller coaster.

The moment of truth arrives as they climb into the sleek, space-themed seats of the 'Celestial Whirlwind'. The roller coaster's safety harnesses click into place, and the anticipation builds as the ride lurches forward, climbing the initial ascent with a steady, almost serene rhythm. Kirk, his eyes gleaming with excitement, gives a thumbs up to Spock, who regards the experience with his usual stoicism, though the faint flutter of his eyelids betrays his nerves.

As the roller coaster reaches its peak and pauses for a brief, heart-stopping moment, Spock's voice is eerily calm. "Captain, this does indeed appear to be a... most illogical yet fascinating endeavor." He glances at Kirk, who grins back at him.

McCoy, his arms folded tightly across his chest, mutters under his breath. "Remind me why I let you talk me into these things, Jim," he says, though the twitch of his lips suggests he's not entirely displeased with the situation.

The roller coaster releases its hold, plummeting down the first drop with a roar. Kirk's laughter echoes through the night as the wind rushes past them, and even Spock's stoic façade cracks as he experiences the rush of adrenaline that comes with the freefall. The coaster twists and turns, looping through the sky in a dizzying display of engineering.

As the ride comes to a halt, the group disembarks, their faces a mix of exhilaration and relief. Kirk is the first to stand, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "How was that, Bones?" he asks, extending a hand to help McCoy up.

McCoy takes Kirk's hand, his knees slightly wobbly as he steps onto solid ground. "Well," he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, "I've had better days in sickbay, but I'll admit, that was... something." He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I think I'll stick to my quiet research and a good cup of tea after that."

Kirk chuckles at McCoy's reaction and then turns to Spock, his hand still outstretched. "And what about you, Spock?" he asks, a twinkle in his eye. "Did you find the illogical thrill of the 'Celestial Whirlwind' as fascinating as you thought you would?"

Spock rises gracefully, his demeanor unruffled despite the roller coaster's tumultuous ride. "It was... enlightening," he says, his voice measured. "The sensation of weightlessness and the subsequent reassertion of gravity did provide an interesting insight into the human psyche's desire for excitement and the physiological response to fear." He glances at McCoy. "Though I must admit, Doctor, your reaction was quite... entertaining."

The narrator confirms that Spock did indeed take Captain Kirk's hand after the exhilarating ride on the 'Celestial Whirlwind'. This small, yet significant act of camaraderie between the Vulcan and the human captain highlights the depth of their friendship and the shared experiences that transcend their species' differences. Despite Spock's initial skepticism, he had embraced the thrill of the moment, offering a glimpse of his capacity for enjoyment outside his usual stoic demeanor.

As Spock's hand meets Kirk's, a sudden and unexpected rush of warmth flows through their fingers. The telepathic bond they formed on the planet of the artifact, though weakened by distance and time, still lingers between them. Spock's eyebrows furrow slightly as he feels a flutter of Kirk's emotions - the residue of fear and excitement from the roller coaster ride. This unanticipated connection surprises him, serving as a subtle reminder of the intertwined destinies they share.

Kirk, ever the intuitive leader, senses something peculiar through the telepathic connection that lingers faintly between them from their earlier adventure. As he looks into Spock's eyes, he can almost feel the rush of adrenaline that had accompanied their harrowing escape from the ancient trap. The shared experience had left an indelible mark on their bond, allowing Kirk to pick up on the faintest whispers of his first officer's thoughts and feelings, even in the midst of the carnival's chaos.

At this moment, Kirk senses in Spock's mind a peculiar blend of emotions. Beneath the Vulcan's usual stoicism, there's a faint spark of excitement from the novel experience, a hint of curiosity about the human condition, and a touch of amusement at McCoy's visceral reaction. But what truly stands out is the deep-rooted affection and camaraderie that Spock feels for his human friends, a testament to the unbreakable bonds forged through their shared trials and tribulations. It's a poignant reminder of their friendship and the diverse tapestry of their intergalactic family.

McCoy shakes his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches Kirk and Spock's interaction. "I ain't no side-show act, Spock," he says, his Southern drawl thick with good-natured sarcasm. "But I'll be your guinea pig for science if it means I get to see that look on your face again. It's like watching a Vulcan loosen up and have a little fun, something I thought I'd never live to see!" He chuckles, patting his chest. "My heart can't take much more of this roller coaster life, but I reckon it's worth it for moments like these."

Spock regards McCoy with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, his usual stoicism slipping slightly. "On the contrary, Doctor," he says, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "You are not merely an 'attraction'. You are an embodiment of the very essence of humanity that I find so... fascinating." He pauses, his gaze lingering on McCoy's face. "And if the expressions of shock and exhilaration on your face amused me, imagine the intriguing study it would make for a Vulcan ethnologist. But, I must admit, the bond we share through our past experiences has indeed made this moment... quite pleasurable." Inside, his thoughts swirl with a secret appreciation for McCoy's undeniable allure, an emotion he meticulously keeps guarded behind the veil of logic.

Kirk's gaze darts between Spock and McCoy, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He can feel the unspoken tension in the air, the telepathic echoes of Spock's thoughts revealing a depth of emotion that the Vulcan rarely shows. "Well," Kirk says, his voice low and gentle, "it seems like the 'Celestial Whirlwind' wasn't the only thing that got your heart racing, Spock." He squeezes McCoy's shoulder reassuringly, his eyes filled with understanding. "Bones, you're the star of the show here, whether you know it or not." The captain's words hold a warmth that acknowledges the complexities of their friendship and the unspoken feelings that lie just beneath the surface of their camaraderie. The connection between Kirk and Spock, now a silent and unspoken secret shared between them, adds a new dimension to their relationship, a bond that goes beyond friendship and into the realms of love and acceptance.

McCoy's smile falters for a moment as he catches the look in Kirk's eyes, the weight of the unspoken understanding between them heavy. He clears his throat, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Now, now, you two," he says, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's not get too sentimental at a carnival. There's still the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' to conquer!" He slaps his hands together, trying to shake off the sudden seriousness that had descended upon them. "And if I'm going to get my heart racing again, it's going to be on my own terms!"

Spock nods, his gaze shifting to McCoy, his expression unreadable. "Indeed, Doctor," he says, his voice a calm counterpoint to the emotions swirling around them. "The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' does seem to be an appropriate next challenge." He turns to Kirk, the warmth from their earlier connection still present in his eyes. "Though I suspect, Captain, that our experiences today have provided us with more than mere amusement. They have illustrated the value of embracing the illogical aspects of life and the profound connections that arise from shared experiences."

With the conversation turning towards their next adventure, the trio, along with Yagi and Thrall, navigate through the bustling carnival-goers and make their way towards the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl'. This ride, a twirling, gravity-defying wonder, beckons them with its hypnotic lights and the promise of an out-of-this-world experience. The line for the attraction stretches before them, a tapestry of eager faces from across the galaxy, each waiting for their turn to be thrown into a whirlwind of sensations. As they queue up, the chatter of various languages and species fills the air, a testament to the universal appeal of the thrill and camaraderie found in such simple pleasures.

The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' is a sophisticated piece of technology, designed to simulate the unique gravitational fields of various planets across the Federation. As they wait, Kirk's curiosity piqued, he asks the carnival attendant about the ride's mechanics. The attendant, a friendly Tellarite with a penchant for dramatic flair, explains that the ride employs a combination of holodeck tech and advanced inertial dampeners to create an authentic experience. "You'll feel the crushing weight of a gas giant," he says, "the floaty grace of a low-gravity moon, and the heart-stopping plunge of a planet with a wonky gravitational field!" His words paint a picture of a journey through the cosmos, all wrapped up in the safety of a carnival ride. The group exchanges glances, their excitement palpable as they anticipate the interstellar odyssey that awaits them.

Finally, the moment arrives, and they step into the sleek pods of the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl'. The safety harnesses tighten around them, a gentle reminder of the forces they are about to experience. The pods begin to spin, slowly at first, and then gradually picking up speed as the gravitational fields shift. The world around them starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, the music swelling to match the increasing intensity of the ride. Kirk, McCoy, and Spock all lean into the centrifugal force, their bodies adapting to the ever-changing gravity.

As the pods spin faster, and the gravitational fields shift more dramatically, McCoy starts to feel a bit queasy. His stomach lurches, and he grips the safety bar tighter. "Jim, I think... I think I might be in over my head here," he says, his voice strained. The usually unflappable doctor is clearly struggling with the sudden onset of motion sickness, his complexion turning a shade paler. Despite his discomfort, he tries to keep his humor, flashing a weak smile at Kirk. "I'm not sure how your ancestors enjoyed these contraptions, but I'm feeling a bit like I've been through a transporter malfunction!"

Spock's eyes are closed, his body at peace with the shifting forces. He opens them to find Kirk watching him with a mix of concern and amusement. "Are you quite all right, Doctor?" Spock asks, his voice calm and steady amidst the chaos. "Humans often find the thrill of these experiences... intoxicating. It appears to be having an adverse effect on you."

McCoy's laugh is a bit forced, but he nods. "Damn straight, Spock," he says, the words coming out in a huff as the pods whirl around. "I've seen enough stars in my life without needing to chase them on a carousel!" Despite his discomfort, he grits his teeth and holds on, not wanting to miss out on the adventure. The Vulcan's inquiry about human preferences for thrills brings a thought to his mind. "But you know what? Maybe there's something to this after all." He glances at Kirk, who is still grinning like a kid in a candy store. "This... this is what keeps us coming back for more, isn't it?"

Kirk's eyes meet McCoy's, and his smile widens. "You got that right, Bones," he shouts over the din of the ride. "Life's about the thrills, the chills, and the people you share them with!" His gaze shifts to Spock, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history and the unspoken depth of their friendship. "And we've got enough of those to last us a lifetime!"

The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' comes to a smooth halt, the pods gradually decelerating until they come to a complete stop. The safety bars release with a hiss, and Kirk is the first to stand, reaching out to help McCoy, whose legs are wobblier than a newborn foal's. Spock's hand is firm and steady as he assists McCoy, his touch gentle despite the Vulcan's usual detachment.

As McCoy's trembling hand meets Spock's, the same curious connection that had occurred before the roller coaster happens again. This time, it's Spock's emotions that flood McCoy's senses - a blend of curiosity, the thrill of the experience, and an underlying concern for his human companions. Spock's grip tightens almost imperceptibly, and his eyes widen slightly as he feels the doctor's unease. It's a moment of profound realization for both of them, a silent revelation that their bond has grown to include a telepathic link.

"I think I've had enough of the cosmic thrill-seeking for one day," McCoy says, his voice a bit shaky as he steps out of the pod. He takes a deep breath of the cool night air, his eyes searching for a place to sit. "But, I'll admit, it's been quite the... adventure." He looks at Kirk and Spock, his expression a mix of amazement and trepidation.

The next stop on the evening's itinerary is the 'Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere', a holographic exhibit that allows visitors to immerse themselves in the timeless poetry and drama of Earth's most revered playwright. The group heads towards the dimly lit dome, the soft murmur of sonnets and soliloquies emanating from within. Kirk, ever the enthusiast for Earth's cultural heritage, leads the way, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

As the group pauses outside the 'Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere', Kirk notices McCoy's pallor and suggests he sit down on a nearby bench. "Take a moment to catch your breath, Bones," Kirk says with a smile. "Spock and I will grab some refreshments." He claps McCoy on the back before turning to Spock. "You're with me, Mr. Spock. We've got a mission to get the good doctor something to settle his stomach."

Spock nods, his eyes flicking to McCoy for a brief moment before following Kirk. Inside the sphere, the air is cool and scented with the faint aroma of fresh flowers and parchment. Holographic figures dressed in Elizabethan attire recite sonnets and scenes from the Bard's plays, their voices resonating with the power of timeless words. Kirk moves through the exhibit with an ease that belies his alien surroundings, pausing here and there to listen intently, his eyes closed, as if savoring the verses.

Kirk leans against a faux-stone pillar, watching the sonnet performers with a thoughtful expression. He turns to Spock, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "So, Spock," he says casually, "you've got quite the poker face, but I've noticed something different about you tonight." He pauses, allowing the words to hang in the air like a challenge. "You seem... affected by the emotional undertones of our experiences. Is there perhaps a certain someone you're thinking about?" His eyes sparkle with mischief, hinting at the unspoken question of whether Spock has developed a crush amidst the whirlwind of human interactions.

Spock's eyebrow arches slightly at Kirk's observation. "I assure you, Captain," he replies, his voice measured, "my emotional responses are under control. However, the telepathic bond we formed on the planet with the artifact has indeed provided me with a new perspective on human behavior. It is... enlightening to experience such a direct connection to your emotions." He looks away, focusing on a holographic Ophelia floating gracefully in the center of the room, her words of love and madness echoing through the chamber.

After a moment of contemplation, Spock's gaze drifts back to McCoy, who is now seated on the bench outside the sphere, his eyes closed as he takes deep, steadying breaths. "I am thinking of Dr. McCoy," he admits, his voice softer than usual. "The bond we share has made me aware of his distress. The illogical nature of human emotions can be quite... disconcerting, yet I find myself concerned for his well-being. His current condition is not... optimal." The admission of his concern is a rare moment of vulnerability for the Vulcan, revealing the depth of his empathy despite his species' reputation for detachment.

Kirk grins at Spock's response, knowing full well that he's hit a nerve. "That's who I mean, Spock," he says, his voice filled with the warmth of shared experience. "It's not just about poker faces and crushes, though I'm sure Bones would love to be the center of your universe." He winks at the Vulcan, who, despite his stoicism, can't help but roll his eyes. "But seeing you care, really care, about us... it's what makes us all family." Kirk's words hang in the air, the unspoken truth resonating between them. The friendship between Kirk, McCoy, and Spock has always been the heart of the Enterprise, and this newfound telepathic link only serves to strengthen it further.

Upon racing the front of the line, the vendor inside the Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere presents them with a tray of steaming beverages and a selection of soothing, ginger-infused snacks known to combat motion sickness. The vendor, a friendly Betazoid with a knowing smile, nods in understanding as Kirk explains McCoy's condition. She assures them that these refreshments are a popular choice among those who have overindulged in the carnival's thrills. Kirk and Spock carry the tray outside, where McCoy sits, looking a bit greener around the gills. The doctor's eyes light up at the sight of the ginger concoction, and he takes a grateful sip, the warmth spreading through him like a balm to his tumultuous stomach.

Spock approaches McCoy with a measured gait, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the nearby lights. He subtly extends his hand, brushing his fingertips against McCoy's wrist, using their telepathic bond to gauge the doctor's condition. The brief touch is unnoticed by the bustling crowd, but the connection it creates is profound. Through their shared link, Spock feels the doctor's relief as the ginger begins to take effect, and the nausea subsides. "Your body is readjusting to the standard gravity," he states, his voice a soothing balm in the noisy carnival atmosphere. "Your discomfort will soon pass." The concern in his voice is genuine, a rare glimpse into the depth of his affection for his human companions.

McCoy looks up at Spock, his eyes misty with gratitude. "Thanks, Spock," he murmurs, taking another sip of the ginger beverage. "I don't know what I'd do without you two." He glances at Kirk, who is chuckling at the sight of McCoy's distress. "And don't you start," he adds, though the threat lacks its usual bite. The bond between the three of them has grown stronger with each shared experience, and the doctor is acutely aware of the silent support Spock has provided during their more... illogical escapades.

They decide to sit and watch some Shakespeare inside the Sphere. The dimly lit chamber is a tranquil oasis amidst the carnival's clamor, the scent of artificial flowers and aged parchment permeating the air. The holographic figures continue their recitals, their voices weaving a tapestry of love, betrayal, and heroism. Kirk, ever the Shakespeare aficionado, selects a spot where they can comfortably observe the performances. The benches are padded with a soft, velvety material that seems to absorb the noise of the outside world, allowing the timeless words to resonate within the dome.

Yagi and Thrall, the Andorians, exchange puzzled glances as they enter the Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere. Their antennae twitch slightly as they try to make sense of the archaic language and dramatic gestures of the holographic figures. They are unfamiliar with the Earth playwright's works, their own cultural heritage rich with epic tales of valor and honor, but devoid of such complex human emotions. They watch intently, their curiosity piqued by this alien art form.

Inside the sphere, Kirk selects a spot where they can comfortably observe the performances. He leans back, his eyes shining with appreciation as he takes in the sonnets. The words of Shakespeare have always had a profound effect on him, and the holographic display is no less mesmerizing than any live performance he's seen. He glances at McCoy, noticing the doctor's gaze is not on the stage but rather on the ginger beverage in his hand. "You know, Bones," Kirk says, his voice low and filled with mirth, "Shakespeare himself might have had a few words about the fickleness of gravity's sweet embrace."

McCoy snorts, his color slowly returning. "I'd wager he'd have a sonnet or two about it," he replies, raising his cup in a toast. "To gravity, may it always keep our feet firmly planted on the ground." The three of them laugh, the tension of their recent mission momentarily forgotten in the embrace of friendship and shared experiences.

As the final sonnet fades away, Kirk turns to the group, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright, folks," he says, the warmth of the moment lingering in his voice, "now that we've had our dose of culture and thrills, how about we explore something a bit more... grounded?" He suggests a museum that's been gaining a lot of buzz around the carnival. It's an interstellar exhibition, showcasing the history and artifacts of various species within the Federation. The idea is met with nods of agreement, and they make their way out of the Sphere into the cool night air, the cacophony of the carnival once again enveloping them.

The interstellar museum is a stark contrast to the vibrant colors and lights of the carnival. The building is a sleek monolith, its surface a shifting tapestry of starlit galaxies. As they enter, the coolness of the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the warm evening. The hushed whispers of the crowd give way to the echoes of footsteps on the gleaming floors. Each exhibit tells a story of triumph and discovery, of ancient civilizations and modern marvels. Kirk leads the way, his hand hovering over the interactive displays with a child-like wonder.

Spock's gaze lingers on a particularly intricate Vulcan artifact, a relic from the time of Surak. It's a simple piece of metal, etched with ancient symbols that speak of peace and logic. He feels a pang of homesickness, a rare emotion for a Vulcan. "This is... quite fascinating," he says, his voice barely above a murmur. "It is a piece of our shared history, Captain." He looks up at Kirk, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the display lights. "I find myself... moved by these relics of our past."

McCoy notices the wistfulness in Spock's gaze and approaches his friend, his hand resting gently on the Vulcan's shoulder. "You feeling a bit of the old homesickness, Spock?" he asks, his Southern drawl a comforting balm amidst the alien ambiance. "Or is it more like ancestral longing?"

As McCoy speaks, his hand moves slightly, and his index finger accidentally brushes against the bare skin of Spock's neck, where his uniform collar opens slightly. The contact is brief, but it's enough. A sudden rush of emotions floods through them, a torrent of feelings that neither expects. Spock feels the warmth of McCoy's concern, the comfort of their friendship, and the weight of their shared experiences. In return, McCoy is inundated with Spock's complex blend of longing and stoicism, the ever-present undercurrent of his Vulcan companion's deep-rooted emotions. The bond formed by the alien artifact flares to life again, and for a moment, the two men are linked in a way that transcends words.

McCoy's eyes widen as he feels the intensity of Spock's emotions. "Well, I'll be," he says, his voice filled with genuine surprise. "You really are homesick. I had no idea it could hit you like that." His hand stays on Spock's shoulder, offering silent support as the Vulcan navigates this uncharted emotional territory. "You know, Spock, sometimes it's okay to miss where you come from. It's part of what makes us human." He takes a sip from his ginger beverage, his gaze never leaving the Vulcan's. "Or, in your case, what makes you... well, you." He smiles warmly, the lines around his eyes crinkling with affection.

Spock nods, his eyes closing briefly as he processes the wave of feelings. "Indeed, Dr. McCoy," he says, his voice a little rougher than usual. "The bond has provided me with a new perspective on the human condition. It is... illogical, yet surprisingly comforting." He opens his eyes to meet McCoy's gaze, his own eyes filled with a warmth that belies his stoic exterior. "I am grateful for your understanding." He turns back to the Vulcan artifact, his hand reaching out to trace the ancient symbols. "This... this is a part of me that I often struggle to reconcile with my duties here."

The group moves through the museum, each exhibit triggering a new round of discussion and discovery. Yagi and Thrall are particularly fascinated by the display of Andorian battle armor, their antennae twitching with excitement as they examine the intricate designs. Kirk, ever the historian, shares tales of Earth's past, his hands animated as he speaks of ancient battles and great leaders. Spock is drawn to the melodic chime of an ancient Tellarite instrument.

The Tellarite instrument, a complex array of crystalline tubes that resonate with the touch of the player's fingers, calls out to Spock. He steps closer, his curiosity piqued by the alien artifact. The instrument is mounted on a pedestal, surrounded by a faint force field that allows for safe interaction. Spock raises his hand, his fingertips hovering over the crystalline surface. With a deep breath, he gently touches the tubes, his Vulcan mind focusing on the patterns of sound and vibration. The crystals sing under his touch, their harmonious notes blending with the low hum of the museum's ambient soundtrack. The display's interactivity is not just for show; it's a means of preserving and sharing the cultural heritage of the Federation's diverse species.

McCoy watches Spock with a hint of amusement. "I never knew you had a musical side, Spock," he teases, his voice filled with warmth. "Maybe you can serenade us on the ship next time we're in a quiet sector."

Spock glances over his shoulder at McCoy, his lips quirking into a small smile. "I assure you, Dr. McCoy, my musical talents are... negligible. However, the principles behind the creation of such an instrument are quite fascinating." He plays a few more notes, the melody weaving through the air like a delicate web. "The Tellarites are known for their acoustic engineering. This device likely serves a dual purpose as a form of communication and a means of meditation."

McCoy's eyes narrow slightly as he considers Spock's words. "Negligible or not, it's something we all have, Spock. A part of us that's just for enjoyment, not for any grand purpose or logical reasoning. And I'd say that's not so negligible, considering the kind of work we do." He pauses, his gaze lingering on the crystalline tubes. "Besides, I've seen you tap your fingers on the bridge console to the tune of Earth jazz. You might just have a hidden talent there."

Spock's eyebrow rises at McCoy's observation. "While I may not possess the finesse of a professional musician, I do engage in the practice of playing the Vulcan lute during my private moments of contemplation," he admits. "The discipline of creating music aligns with the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC - Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. It allows me to appreciate the harmony within the chaos of existence." He pauses, his hand hovering over the Tellarite instrument. "Though the lute is quite different from this, the principles of resonance and vibration are universal."

Intrigued by the challenge, Spock's hand moves away from the random melody he'd been playing and begins to shape a more deliberate pattern on the crystalline tubes. His fingers dance over the surface, each touch calculated and precise. The notes that emerge are unfamiliar to the human ear, yet carry a haunting beauty that seems to echo the very essence of Vulcan culture. The song is ancient, a melody passed down through generations of his people, a lullaby that once soothed the minds of young Vulcans in the harsh deserts of their homeworld. The melody rises and falls, a testament to the stoic nature of the Vulcans and their quest for inner peace amidst the tumult of emotions.

The museum's visitors, a mix of various species, pause in their conversations, drawn to the alien yet eerily familiar sound. A few Andorians nod in approval, recognizing the discipline and focus required to play such an intricate piece. The humans exchange glances, surprised by the depth of emotion they're witnessing from a Vulcan. Kirk watches with a proud smile, while McCoy's eyes shine with newfound respect for his friend.

McCoy leans against the pedestal, his expression a mix of admiration and wonder. "Spock, that's... beautiful," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you had that in you." He takes another sip of his ginger beverage, the warmth of the liquid mirroring the warmth in his heart. "I guess we all have our hidden talents."

Spock's eyes open, and he turns to face McCoy, his hand hovering over the instrument's last chord. "The performance, Dr. McCoy, was indeed flawed," he says, his tone measured yet carrying a hint of self-deprecation. "But the act of sharing it with you is a reminder that even within the rigid confines of logic and duty, there is room for the exploration of the soul." He nods towards the group, his gaze encompassing Kirk, Yagi, and Thrall. "It is a testament to the unity we have forged on this vessel, that we may find common ground in the unlikeliest of places."

As the final notes of the Vulcan melody dissipate into the museum's atmosphere, Spock regards McCoy with a thoughtful gaze. "Speaking of hidden talents, Doctor," he says, his voice a soft challenge. "What might yours be, aside from your unparalleled medical expertise?" The question hangs in the air, a subtle invitation to share a piece of themselves beyond their professional roles.

McCoy chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, Spock," he drawls, "you might be surprised to know that I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too." He steps away from the Tellarite instrument and scans the nearby exhibits. His eyes land on a replica of an ancient Earth medical bay. "Back in the day, we humans had our own way of soothing the soul," he says, gesturing to the display. "Some of us still do." He winks at Kirk, who rolls his eyes playfully. "How about I show you all a little bit of Southern charm?"

McCoy leads the group to the replica medical bay, his stride filled with a newfound confidence. He picks up a wooden flute, a simple instrument that seems out of place amidst the gleaming technology. With a few practiced breaths, he begins to play a lilting tune, one that speaks of open fields and lazy afternoons. The music is a stark contrast to the Vulcan melody, yet it resonates with the same depth of emotion. The bond between them flares once more, allowing Spock to feel the warmth of McCoy's memories, the love for his lost family, and the peace he finds in music.

Meanwhile, as McCoy plays his flute, he senses the depth of Spock's emotions for him. It's a profound realization, a complex web of friendship, respect, and a hint of something more that neither of them can quite define. His music becomes a silent conversation, a way to express the feelings that words can't quite capture. The bond they share, forged in the crucible of their missions and deepened by the alien artifact, has transformed into something beautifully intimate. As the melody reaches its crescendo, McCoy feels a rush of warmth and belonging, understanding that, despite their differences, they're bound by a connection that transcends species and rank. He plays on, the music a declaration of their friendship, strong and enduring as the stars themselves.

Spock, drawn by the haunting melody of the Tellarite instrument, approaches it once more. His long, elegant fingers hover above the crystalline tubes, considering the pattern of vibrations that would harmonize with McCoy's flute. With a nod of respect to his friend, he begins to play, his Vulcan logic weaving in and out of the human's soulful tune. The music becomes a conversation, a dance of intertwining notes that echo through the museum. The Tellarite crystals resonate with the flute's sweet sound, creating a symphony of unity. The bond between them, now a tangible force, seems to resonate with the very fabric of the universe. Spock's eyes never leave McCoy's as they play together, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moments that have shaped their friendship. Kirk and the others watch in amazement, feeling the depth of their connection as the music fills the air, a testament to the infinite diversity and infinite combinations that make up their lives aboard the Enterprise.

As the last notes of their impromptu duet fade away, McCoy lowers his flute, his eyes misty with unshed tears. "Spock," he says, his voice thick with emotion, "that was... something else." He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I think we just gave these museum-goers quite the show, don't you?" He glances around at the small crowd that has gathered, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion. "But, if we're going to keep exploring, we should probably get going before we're asked to leave for disturbing the peace." He chuckles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Or before I start serenading you all with some good ol' Southern bluegrass."

Spock nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving McCoy's. "I would find that quite enjoyable, Dr. McCoy," he says, his voice steady despite the emotional undertones. "Your willingness to share such a personal aspect of your culture is appreciated and intriguing." He steps away from the Tellarite instrument, his hand lingering on the last crystal he'd played. "However, we should indeed continue our exploration. The museum has much to offer, and our time here is limited." He glances at Kirk, a question in his gaze. "Captain, where shall we proceed?"

Kirk, his own eyes reflecting the poignancy of the music, claps his hands together. "I couldn't agree more, gentlemen," he says, his smile wide and genuine. "Let's move on to the next exhibit." He turns to the group, his eyes alight with excitement. "I've heard there's a display on the early days of interstellar travel. I've always had a soft spot for those old ships. They had guts, you know?" He leads the way, his stride brisk, the emotional moment shared between McCoy and Spock lingering in the air like a gentle echo of their music.

The group makes their way to the exhibit on early space travel, the holographic displays bringing to life the tales of daring explorers who first ventured beyond the stars. Kirk's voice fills the space as he recounts the stories of Earth's pioneers, his passion for history infectious. Thrall and Yagi listen intently, their curiosity piqued by the tales of humanity's early forays into the cosmos. Spock, his gaze lingering on an ancient Vulcan ship model, seems lost in thought, his mind racing with the parallels between the past and their own intergalactic journey.

As Kirk finishes his narrative, the group finds themselves standing before a majestic lineup of ancient spacecraft, each one a testament to the innovation and courage of its creators. The vessels are displayed in a chronological order, showcasing the evolution of space travel from Earth's first tentative steps to the sleek and powerful starships of the Federation. Just adjacent to this nostalgic array, an unexpected sight catches their attention: a car exhibit. The gleaming metal bodies and the rich scent of polished chrome stand out starkly against the backdrop of stars and vessels, a reminder of humanity's terrestrial roots.

Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of the vintage cars. "Look at these beauties!" he exclaims, his voice carrying the enthusiasm of a child in a candy store. He strides over to a cherry-red 1968 Mustang, his hand reaching out to stroke the metallic finish. "Now, this," he says with a wistful smile, "this is a piece of Earth's history I can get behind the wheel of."

McCoy rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "You and your fast cars, Kirk," he says, though the fondness in his voice is unmistakable. "But I have to admit, there's something charming about them." He approaches a 1957 Chevy Bel Air, its chrome gleaming under the museum lights. "This reminds me of my daddy's old car," he murmurs, his Southern drawl thickening with nostalgia.

Spock observes the vehicles with a detached curiosity, his gaze lingering on the complexities of their design. "Fascinating," he says, "how your species managed to achieve such rapid advancement in such a short period of time." He steps closer to Kirk, his eyes on the Mustang. "The emotional connection to these... 'beauties', as you call them, is intriguing. They are, after all, merely transportation devices."

Kirk grins at McCoy's teasing and Spock's observation. "Ah, but they're more than that, aren't they, Bones?" He opens the Mustang's door with a creak, sliding into the driver's seat. "They're symbols of freedom, of the open road, and the thrill of discovery." He pats the steering wheel affectionately. "And they sure don't make 'em like this anymore."

McCoy steps closer to Kirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You planning on taking her for a spin, Jim?" he asks, the question laced with a hint of nostalgia and a touch of concern for the captain's penchant for speed. "Because I don't know if I can handle the thrill of a starship chase through the streets of a museum."

The group shares a laugh, the tension of their recent adventures easing for a moment. Kirk's hand lingers on the gearshift before he climbs out of the car. "Not today, Bones," he says with a sigh, his eyes still on the Mustang. "But maybe one day, we'll get the chance to take a real joyride together."

The bond between Kirk and McCoy is palpable as they move through the exhibit, reminiscing about Earth's past. Spock, ever the observer, watches the exchange with a gentle smile, his curiosity about human emotion growing. Yagi and Thrall exchange glances, their own friendship deepening as they learn from the shared experiences of their human and Vulcan comrades.

McCoy turns around, catching Spock's smile, which is a rare sight indeed. His own smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. "You know, Spock," he says, his voice tinged with affection, "you might find it illogical, but there's just something about these old cars that speaks to the human spirit. They're not just machines, they're... dreams on wheels." He steps away from the Chevy, his gaze lingering on the vehicles. "They represent a time when we didn't know what was out there, but we were eager to find out."

Spock nods thoughtfully. "The concept of a 'dream on wheels' is indeed illogical when analyzed," he says, his tone teasing. "But I concede that the emotional resonance is... intriguing." He glances over at Kirk, who's still admiring the Mustang. "It appears that your species finds comfort in the tangible reminders of your past."

"Comfort, yes," McCoy agrees, his eyes misting over slightly. "But also a reminder of how far we've come. And how much further we have to go." He sighs, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "But for now, let's keep moving. I'm sure there's more to see in this place that'll tickle our fancy."

The group moves on to the ice-skating rink, a frozen oasis amidst the warmth of the museum. The sharp scent of fresh ice fills the air, and the sound of blades slicing through the surface echoes around them. Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of the rink, and he grabs a pair of skates with the enthusiasm of a child. "Come on, everyone," he says, grinning. "Let's see if we've still got our balance after all these years in space."

Spock arches an eyebrow at the captain's challenge, his curiosity piqued. "Ice skating," he murmurs, taking a moment to process the concept. "An ancient Terran activity, designed to traverse frozen bodies of water for transportation and later adopted for recreation." He accepts a pair of skates from a museum attendant, his grip firm and precise. "I shall endeavor to participate."

They all bundle up, with Kirk wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling on a pair of gloves, McCoy tugging on a set of earmuffs that make him look more like a quirky professor than a starship doctor, and even Spock donning a pair of Vulcan-designed mittens that mimic the color of his uniform. Yagi and Thrall exchange amused glances as they watch their human counterparts prepare for the cold, each adjusting to the alien concept of terrestrial winter gear with varying degrees of grace.

Spock steps onto the ice with a calculated grace, his booted feet sliding slightly as he adjusts to the unfamiliar surface. His Vulcan physique, so adept at navigating the corridors of the Enterprise, seems almost out of place in this frozen arena. His eyes narrow in concentration as he tries to mimic the fluid movements of the skaters around him. But as the cold bites at his cheeks and the wind whips through the rink, his footing falters. His arms flail for a brief moment as he feels the inevitable pull of gravity, his body tilting towards the icy ground.

McCoy, ever the Southern gentleman, watches Spock's struggle with a blend of amusement and concern. "Careful there, Spock," he calls out, his drawl thick with mirth. "You're supposed to glide, not fly." He skates over, extending a hand to help the Vulcan regain his balance. "Let me show you how it's done."

As McCoy reaches out to Spock, their eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between them. With a nod of understanding, Spock takes McCoy's offered hand, allowing the doctor to guide him around the rink. Their movements are tentative at first, Spock's stiffness slowly giving way to the rhythm of McCoy's instructions. The human's gentle grip is surprisingly warm against the Vulcan's cold hand, a stark contrast to the chilly air surrounding them. McCoy's words of guidance and encouragement are punctuated by the steady beat of their blades cutting through the ice. Their shared laughter fills the rink, the sound mingling with the whispers of the wind and the distant chime of the museum's exhibits.

Gradually, Spock's steps become more sure, his arms relaxing at his sides. His eyes, usually so guarded, show a flicker of something softer, something that could almost be mistaken for joy. "This is... an interesting experience," he admits, his voice tinged with the barest hint of amusement.

McCoy chuckles, his eyes never leaving Spock's as they glide along the ice. "Jim's always been one for showmanship," he says, nodding in Kirk's direction. The captain, ever the show-off, is weaving in and out of the other skaters with the grace of a natural. "But I've got to admit, there's something about watching him that just makes my heart swell with pride." He winks at Spock, his cheeks red from the cold or perhaps something else. "He's a hell of a captain, and an even better friend."

As McCoy speaks, Spock's grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly, the warmth of his affection seeping through the barrier of their gloves. He's grateful for the mittens that prevent a true skin-to-skin connection, for if McCoy felt the swell of his emotions, he would realize that the doctor's heart isn't the only one affected by Kirk's antics. Spock's own heart feels a pang of despair as he registers the unmistakable affection in McCoy's voice when he speaks of the captain. It's clear that McCoy's loyalties and feelings are deeply entwined with Kirk, and Spock can't help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that his own bond with McCoy may never be the same.

Kirk, catching the exchange between his two closest friends, slows his pace and approaches the duo. "What's this?" he asks, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "McCoy, are you giving Spock a lesson in the art of Southern charm?" He skates around them, his movements fluid and graceful despite his teasing tone. "Or maybe you're just showing him how to do the Hokey Pokey?"

Kirk's eyes twinkle with mischief as he suggests the dance. "Come on, you two," he says, holding out a hand to each of them. "Naturally, this comment necessitates a demonstration of the Hokey Pokey. You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in, and you shake it all about." He starts the dance, his laughter echoing through the rink.

Spock's eyebrow quirks at Kirk's playfulness, his gaze flicking from McCoy to the captain. With a small sigh, he relents, his movements a study in controlled precision as he joins in the dance, his arms and legs moving in time with the human tune. "I shall endeavor to 'shake it all about'," he says dryly, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

McCoy rolls his eyes but can't help the laugh that bubbles out as he joins in, his own steps a bit more wobbly than Kirk's. "You're a bad influence, Jim," he says, though his grin belies any real irritation. He glances over at Spock, the sight of the Vulcan participating in such a whimsical dance bringing warmth to his heart. "But I guess even Vulcans need to let loose every once in a blue moon."

Spock pauses mid-dance, his eyebrow arching as he corrects McCoy. "Doctor, it is not currently a blue moon. However, the phrase you are employing is an idiomatic expression indicating a rare or unusual occurrence. The actual astronomical event of a blue moon, which is the second full moon in a single Earth calendar month, does not directly correlate with the concept of 'letting loose'. Nevertheless, I appreciate the sentiment behind your statement and shall continue to engage in this... unique form of human bonding." He resumes the dance, his movements slightly less rigid as he relaxes into the moment.

McCoy chuckles, his cheeks flushing with the cold and his own amusement. "Alright, point taken, Spock," he says, his voice warm despite the chilly air. "But I've got to admit, it's not every day I get to see the two of you cut a rug out here in the cosmos." He throws in a couple of spins, his Southern charm shining through even on the ice.

Spock's gaze lingers on McCoy, his own steps becoming more fluid. "Indeed, there is no actual rug on this ice," he says with a touch of amusement in his voice. "But I must admit, Dr. McCoy, your grace on these primitive skates is quite... human." He nods in approval. "It seems that even in the most illogical of situations, your species finds a way to express joy."

McCoy laughs, his eyes sparkling as he looks at Spock. "Well, now, that's the closest thing to a compliment I've ever heard from you, Spock," he says, his tone teasing. "But I'll take it. Just don't go telling anyone back on the ship that I've got moves like this." He winks, the warmth of his affection for the Vulcan evident in his voice. "I've got a reputation to uphold, after all."

Spock stops his dance for a moment, his eyes meeting McCoy's. "Doctor, your reluctance to reveal your hidden talents is, as you say, 'a crying shame'. The concept of modesty is not foreign to Vulcans, but we do not shy away from sharing our abilities for fear of judgment." He pauses, a hint of challenge in his tone. "I find it unfortunate that you do not feel comfortable displaying your skill in front of others. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye."

McCoy's smile falters slightly, his gaze dropping to the ice. "Maybe you're right, Spock," he murmurs, a hint of sadness in his voice. "But some things are best left unsaid, or unseen." He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Now, let's get back to this shindig before we miss all the fun." He skates away from Spock, his movements more graceful than ever, as if trying to outrun the conversation.

Kirk notices the shift in McCoy's demeanor, his smile fading. He skates over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Bones," he says gently, "you don't have to hide anything from us. We're all friends here." His eyes dart to Spock, a silent question hanging in the air. "What's going on?"

McCoy shakes his head, forcing a laugh. "It's nothing, Jim," he says, his drawl a bit too thick. "Just feeling a bit... out of place, I guess." He glances around the rink, the joy of the moment fading slightly. "This isn't exactly my element."

Kirk's gaze softens as he looks at McCoy. "You know, Bones, I heard you had quite the experience with the elements back when you were on that crazy mission," he says, his voice low and warm. "Surviving the Trial of the Elements, that's something not everyone can say they've done. You faced the fire, not to mention the air and the water, and you came out on top." He pauses, his hand still resting on McCoy's shoulder. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're made of tougher stuff than you let on."

McCoy's expression relaxes a little at Kirk's words, and he looks up to meet the captain's eyes. "Thanks, Jim," he says, his voice sincere. "But that was different. That was... necessary." He sighs, then shrugs off the momentary sadness. "Let's not dwell on it. After all, we're here to enjoy ourselves." He turns back to the ice, his skates gliding smoothly as he resumes the dance.

Kirk nods, understanding McCoy's reluctance to delve deeper into his feelings. He turns to Spock, who has been quietly observing the exchange. "Spock, I noticed you and Bones had a bit of a tête-à-tête over there. Everything okay?" Kirk asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

Spock's gaze follows McCoy's movements before returning to Kirk. "The doctor and I were simply discussing the illogical nature of human behavior and the value of humility," he replies, his tone neutral. "It is of no great concern." He tilts his head slightly, considering Kirk. "However, I find it interesting that you use the term 'tête-à-tête', Captain. It implies an intimate or private conversation, which is not typically associated with a public setting such as this."

Kirk chuckles, the sound echoing through the frosty air. "Well, Spock, even in the most public of places, good friends can share a private moment," he says, his eyes twinkling. "But let's not leave our new friends out of the fun." He gestures to Yagi and Thrall, who are watching the dance with bemusement. "Why don't we invite them to join us?"

The Andorian's antennae twitch with excitement as they watches the three officers. "I would be honored to participate in this...Hokey Pokey?" they say, their voice a mix of curiosity and amusement. They steps onto the ice with surprising grace, their antennae swaying with the rhythm of the music.

Spock nods, his own curiosity piqued by the cultural exchange. He approaches Yagi, his skates crunching against the frozen surface. "The Hokey Pokey is a human dance, designed to encourage unity and light-heartedness," he explains, his voice a soothing baritone. "Allow me to demonstrate."

Spock gracefully extends his hand to Yagi, guiding them through the steps with a calm patience that belies his own unfamiliarity with the dance. "You put your right antenna in, you put your right antenna out," he intones, his movements precise and deliberate as he demonstrates the gesture. "You put your right antenna in and you shake it all about."

As the laughter and music fill the air, the group decides that their time at the Cosmic Carnival of Wonders has been sufficiently filled with wonder. They exit the ice rink, their cheeks flushed from the cold and their spirits lifted from the shared camaraderie. The aroma of various interstellar delicacies wafts through the fairgrounds, reminding them of the vast tapestry of life and cuisine the universe has to offer. Kirk, ever the opportunist, suggests they grab some of the Carnival food before they leave. "We've got a transporter ride home, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy some snacks," he says with a wink.

They meander through the crowded stalls, the vibrant colors and alien sights a stark contrast to the pristine white of the ice rink. The sounds of sizzling meats, bubbling stews, and the distant laughter of children blend into a harmonious cacophony that seems to resonate with the very essence of the Starfleet's mission: to explore, to understand, and to bring together diverse peoples under the banner of peace. Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of a stand selling something that looks suspiciously like cotton candy. "Now, this is more my speed," he says, already reaching for his communicator to order a plate.

McCoy shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips as he watches Kirk's childlike excitement over the sugary treat. "Hold on there, Captain," he calls out. "I've got my heart set on something a bit more... substantial." He looks around the carnival, scanning the various delights. "Ah, I know what I want," he says, his eyes landing on a stall frying up golden spirals of dough. "Some funnel cake. Now, that's a taste of home."

Meanwhile, Yagi and Thrall, the Andorians in their party, are drawn to the scent of something fried and sweet, their antennae twitching with curiosity. They approach a vendor selling corndogs, the smell of the deep-fried dough and the savory aroma of the meat inside piquing their interest. The vendor, a Tellarite with a knowing smile, hands them each one, explaining the Terran delicacy with a series of gestures and grunts that somehow manage to convey the delight of the first bite.

Kirk, noticing the kettle corn vendor, turns to Spock with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, Spock, this stuff is the epitome of Earthly indulgence," he says, holding out a warm, sugar-coated kernel. "You really should give it a try."

Spock takes the offered kettle corn with a nod, his curiosity overcoming his Vulcan stoicism. He brings the kernel to his mouth, the sweet and salty flavor exploding on his tongue. His eyebrows rise slightly, and he chews thoughtfully. "It is... an unusual combination of flavors," he says, swallowing. "But I concede that it is not entirely unpleasant."

After considering the unique taste of the kettle corn, Spock approaches the vendor and places an order. "I shall partake in this human delicacy," he says, his voice calm but with a hint of excitement. "One large bag, please." The vendor nods and begins filling a bag with the freshly popped corn, the sound of the kernels hitting the paper a comforting backdrop to the laughter and chatter of the carnival. Spock accepts the bag with a nod of thanks, his eyes never leaving the food as he contemplates the human penchant for such simple yet delightful experiences.

McCoy watches Spock's reaction to the kettle corn with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Spock, I've got a proposition for you," he says, holding up a piece of funnel cake dripping with powdered sugar. "How about a little interstellar exchange of goodwill?" He waves the cake enticingly. "I'll trade you a bite of this heavenly goodness for a handful of that corn you've got there." His Southern drawl is thick with the promise of a good ol' fashioned barter.

Spock raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly. "Very well, Doctor," he says, extending the bag towards McCoy. "Your proposal is... illogical, but I am willing to indulge in this cultural exchange." He watches as McCoy eagerly takes a handful of the corn, his eyes lighting up with the same excitement Kirk had shown earlier. Spock takes a bite of the funnel cake, his expression one of focused consideration before he nods in approval. "Your Earth confection is quite... palatable," he admits, his voice holding a hint of surprise.

Spock's cheeks flush, though the darkness of the carnival night hides the telltale sign from his human companions. For a Vulcan, sharing food directly from one's own hand is an act of intimacy, and Dr. McCoy's sudden and unsolicited dive into his kettle corn bag has caught him off-guard. He feels a brief surge of... something akin to embarrassment, but quickly suppresses it. He clears his throat and turns his gaze back to the fried spirals of dough, his mind racing with the implications of such a gesture. It's clear that McCoy sees this as nothing more than a friendly exchange, but for Spock, it's a moment that pierces through the armor of his Vulcan stoicism, leaving him with a peculiar sense of warmth that he can't quite explain. He takes another bite of the funnel cake, his thoughts swirling like the sugar on the fried dough.

McCoy, seemingly oblivious to the significance of his gesture, chews on the kettle corn with gusto. "See, Spock, you can learn to love our strange human ways," he says, wiping a smudge of powdered sugar from his chin. He looks over at Kirk, who's watching the exchange with a knowing smile. "What do you think, Jim?"

Kirk's smile widens as he watches his two friends share the sugary treats. He's the first to speak up, his voice filled with the warmth of shared memories and newfound experiences. "I think it's great, Bones," he says, popping a piece of cotton candy into his mouth. "I've always said that the best way to understand a culture is to share in their food and their laughter." He looks around at the diverse group of aliens and humans that make up the carnival crowd. "And it seems we're all doing a pretty good job of that tonight."

With the night winding down and their bellies full of interstellar treats, the four Starfleet officers decide it's time to head back to the Enterprise. They say their goodbyes to the carnival, the lights and sounds of the games and rides fading behind them as they make their way to the transporter station. Thrall, his eyes shining with a newfound respect for his comrades, chooses to stay behind, eager to return to his farm and share the tales of his adventure with his Andorian family. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Yagi step onto the transporter pad, the hum of the machine enveloping them as they dematerialize.

[arcvmonth]

ARC-V Month 2023 Prompt List

Starting June 15th, all works under these prompts are to be accepted and reblogged here. Any form of content is welcome, and so are late submissions! Scroll through the prompts, take your pick, and most importantly- have fun!

(Don't forget the tags and the @arcvmonth mention, though! We don't want your post to get eaten by Tumblr, now do we?)

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Day 1: Lights, Camera, Action... Duel!

We're starting off light and sweet with a simple introduction day. Present yourself, the type of content you do, or the charaters you'll be working with- anything goes, just let the audience know of you in your own way!

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Day 2: Kahyoreigetsu

Flowers, Moon, Winds, Birds. Four wonders of nature, gentle and pure, and four matching bracelets around the wrists of one girl each. For the first time in too long, today's show stars our very own quartet of Bracelet Girls, so be sure to celebrate those beautiful sweethearts!

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Day 3: Duetto of Duelist and Spirit

The primary principle of Entertainment Dueling is to become one with your cards, to put on the best show ever in tandem with the monsters in your Deck. Show us your favorite cards today, and the story behind your partners of choice!

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Day 4: The Merriest Band of Misfits

With such a diverse world and a massive ensemble, it's only natural for interesting chemistry to be found between quite a few characters in this show, and today is all about those neat little dynamics! Show us your favorite unconventional gang of idiots, stick them in one place, and let the chaos commence!

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Day 5: Action Magic - Overpass

Whoops, someone seems to have mixed up our cast's scripts! Bracelet boys? Riding Duel King Kurosaki? What is this?? Whatever shall we do?? Show us your wildest swaps today- be it roleswap, bodyswap, or whatever else you can think of!

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Day 6: Understudy Spotlight

You ever see a character and instantly like their vibe... only for them to disappear into the background for all eternity? Well, here's your chance to take them out for a little spin! Show us your favorite background character today, and give them the shoutout they deserve!

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Day 7: Of Amores, Per the Prophecy

That's right, today is the day to celebrate your favorite ships of all time! Show us your sweet OTPs, OT3s, or any sort of polys, and spread the love all around!

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Day 8: The Regular- ah, Standard Show

Standard dimension day! Give a shoutout to all those unique duel schools, or the chill and cozy atmosphere of Maiami City, or the original motley crew from the olden days of the very first arc! Every journey has its beginning, and this one is as good as they come.

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Day 9: Light Across the Aether

The ARC-V story tends to be something of a mixed bag at best, but today, we only look for the best things to find within this bag. Show us your favorite story arc, episode, or even a singular moment of greatness!

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Day 10: Take Five! ....Or Ten!

First free day! The momentum is slowly ramping up, but to carry on with a good show, one must take a breather every now and then. Take the day off to talk about whatever, make any work you want, or just chillax and wait for what comes next.

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Day 11: Legacy For the Future

ARC-V featured five Duelists from all across the previous spin-offs, each bringing an interesting twist to the show, and a curious few differences from their original selves. Today we celebrate those legendary legacy Duelists- them, and whoever else may have been among them in another world.

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Day 12: But You Still Take the Damage

Meme day! Get silly, go crazy, be cringe and be free! ARC-V is a circus of odd puns and bad jokes and dumb gags that never get old, so go ahead and toss out all your funny gold!

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Day 13: Abyss Beneath a Smile

No one is born evil, and yet some choose to let go of the light in favor of embracing the other side, for reasons one may find to be rather baffling at first glance. Today is all about these oh-so-villainous figures, so show us your favorite antagonist of choice!

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Day 14: Halfway to Heartland Tower

Xyz dimension day! Who doesn't love a good city that shines like a literal beacon in the night? Heartland certainly has its charm, and so does its lovable cast. Even in the face of adversity, they continue to inspire hope in every way they can, and that sure is something to celebrate.

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Day 15: Salt For the Salt Lord!

Remember the mixed bag, and how we looked for the best of it last time? Well, now's the time to take a look at the less favorable parts of the story. Show us your least favorite arcs, episodes, or a certain pet peeve you had with the show- let the salt flow and flood the whole land!

(We'll mop it up by tomorrow, don't worry ;D)

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Day 16: Actually, He Would Say That

Look, we all like our cast with their pros and their cons, but sometimes there's just something... missing, when you look at canon portrayal. Some more depth. Some trivial details and silly nitpicks, to add to their flair... which are exactly what today is all about. Show us your weirdest little headcanons and most random thoughts!

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Day 17: A Salad of Heavenly Proportions

Four dimensions, four summoning methods, four heavenly dragons.... and of course, four quarters of a whole idiot. Please give it up to the kiddos, the twinsies, the complete and utter dorks of all time: the Yuu-salad boys!

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Day 18: D/D/D - Different Dimension Day

Canon divergence, modern settings, fantasy, sci-fi and series fusions...yes, ladies and gentlemen, today is the day. It's time to throw canon to the wind, because we're making our own stories through the wondrous magic of AUs!

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Day 19: My Heart Beats 'Till Overdrive

Synchro dimension day! We are here to visit the city of speed, spectacle and freedom!... or the lack thereof. Progress is a non-linear road, but our daring riders are working their way there, so do give them their due credits today!

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Day 20: We Interrupt Your Schedule for A Commercial Break

Free day 2: electric boogaloo! We're well into the swing of things by now, but a short stop is due before we move on to the final stretch! Perhaps you could mention some of your favorite creators in the fandom, or just roll around with anything else you're working on. There's also the option to simply take a day off- we even have some popcorn for those who want to just sit back and watch the show.

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Day 21: League of Dueling Seriously

Or LDS for short- no, not the school, the Lance Defense Soldiers. Today we celebrate the single most chaotic group in the whole show- yes, it's the Lancers' time to shine!

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Day 22: Prismatic Rare, Prismatic Pair

"Man, these two are such an adorable pair! Lemme just look them up- what do you mean, there's no content for them??"

Sometimes, one must dig pretty deep to find those rare, hidden gems, so show us your own gem of a rarepair today!

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Day 23: Back At Class, They Never Taught A Thing

Fusion dimension day! Beyond the shores of Academia lies a trove of possibilities, and the same goes for the walls of the ornate castle as well. Every student and teacher has a story to tell, and together they weave quite the curious tapestry... though what is there to be seen in such a creation is up to you alone.

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Day 24: Oh. My. G.O.D

Manga day! Loathe as we all are to remember that last panel, the manga is actually surprisingly good otherwise. It introduces a handful of new faces while reimagining old ones, and has a nice underlying message that makes it well worth celebration overall.

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Day 25: Woe, Angst Be Upon Ye

Oh, would you look at that? Today we are gathered here for the express purpose of hurting our poor little meow meows and giving them more trauma on top of their existing issues! How fun!

... alright, fine, they might get a happy ending. No promises on that front, though.

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Day 26: Action Magic - Crossover

Oho? What's this? Our cast has been given an entirely new script!! Such curious mixes can create infinite possibilities, each more intriguing than the last. Show us how you're crossing over ARC-V with other media, and let's dive into a whole new world today!

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Day 27: Square Zero

Original dimension day! Very little is known about the place where it all began, but this is a blessing in its own right, for it lets us explore what may have been with greater freedom. Pray tell, how do you picture this world to once have been?

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Day 28: Hey, Who Hired This One?

Strangely enough, an anonymous figure has shown up to the performance today! Whoever might that be? Well, the answer is yours to decide! Introduce us to your OCs, and let them roam the world alongside the rest of the cast.

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Day 29: Into the Games!

While the anime and manga may be over and done with, it so happens that our beloved characters still exist in several games, and are even getting further development and chances for interaction! Let's talk about how YuGiOh video games have been handling ARC-V in the past, present, and future.

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Day 30: Curtains Down

Final day everyone, woohoo! It's certainly been a ride, and reaching its end feels more than a bit surreal, but now that we're here... it's high time we do the curtain calls.

Tell us your favorite days/works from this year's ARC-V Month, or as always, do with the day whatever you will. Here's to another great event next year... 'till then, ladies and gentlemen!

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Extra Prompts:

1) Time Pendulumgraph

Hey, who fast forwarded the timeline- wait, isn't this four years before the start?? Looks like we're dealing with some weird chronography here, so show us your pre/post-canon ideas today!

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2) Guest Appearance

A wild VIP guest has appeared! Take one character from outside the series, and thrust them into the ARC-Verse while hoping for the best. Anyone goes! Literally anyone. Go wild.

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3) Doodlebook - Uh Uh Uh!

A sad truth of this world is that we do not hold the power to materialize cards out of thin air when pushed against the wall... however, what we do have is the ability to create the card concepts ourselves! Pop out a few custom cards of your design today!

[piratesgiftexchange]

The Flying Pearlman - Shipping Two Ships - This, Too, is Yuri

by beemovieerotica, for @thisshrimpisfryingrice

PROMPT: “ Anything with actual ships (sailings ships)”

WORD COUNT: 6,096

It was in the aftermath of the guns blazing, smoke-filled finale of the fight against Lord Cutler Beckett (may he rest in pieces) that something strange began to transpire aboard the ships.

The Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman, two ships ever-destined to shape the course of piracy and the nine seas, were sailing side-by-side away from the slowly-dissipating maelstrom wrought by the goddess herself.  Into the churning waters had gone the HMS Endeavour and all her terrible men.  Down to the depths of the ocean went the cursed body of Davy Jones.  And in his place, standing proud at the helm, was the young Will Turner as ferryman.

The crews were still in states of celebration and joyous chaos as the English fleet receded into the distance.  Their freedom was secured, for now, and at least for a good while longer.  Will looked to his new crew with the fresh wound above his absent heart stinging in the cold sea spray, and then he looked across the water to the Pearl where his dearest friends—and his wife—now stood.

“On this day,” Will began, courage booming within his chest, “there is a new ferryman.  One who will not forsake the souls of the dead!”

Cheers and cries rang out from the crews.  Barbossa and Jack looked on, more proudly than they ever had before.  The threat was behind them, the future clear and promising.  Elizabeth took the moment to stand up and carry the moment with him.

“We will forge a path forward,” she called out, “united as Brethren for the cause of freedom!”

Feet stomped, pistols fired off into the air, and blood ran hot from the fight that was shaping the world before them.  Too hot, perhaps.  The crews threw their arms around one another and kissed each other on deck, with no regard for rank or sex.  It might be excused later as a celebratory whim in the heat of the moment—but for now, none were ashamed.

The enthusiasm flared on, and it was enough to drive even the most reticent bystander to passionate action.  Action of whatever kind might appeal to him, so to speak. 

It could even drive to such heights of passion, as would soon become clear, entities no one thought capable of doing so… 

The Dutchman groaned beneath the crew’s feet, dipping slightly into the water.

“No pirate need fear the yoke of the empire,” Elizabeth went on.  “For they should fear us!”

As the crews continued to cheer, the sails on the Pearl fluttered: they did not hear her creak in reply.

“Every man and woman deserving of the same life and liberty!” Will added.

It was Gibbs who first noted that something was going awry.  The Pearl’s wheel was beginning to list precariously toward the other ship, and as he hurried to right it, he paused, his brows furrowed, and then struggled against the wood.  It would not budge.  He looked across the shrinking distance between the ships, then back to the obstinate wheel, then back to the approaching Dutchman, who—it suddenly seemed—was also listing their way.

“Captain!” Gibbs cried.

Jack and Barbossa both turned in unison toward the frantic first mate. 

Orders were shouted and the uplifting speeches delayed, and five men attempted to turn the wheel as the two crews scrambled into action.

“Something must have caught on the rudder!” Gibbs supplied.

“Ours has been disabled too,” Will said to his crew.

“That’s not possible,” Maccus cut in.  “If the wheel won’t turn…it’s because she don’t want to turn.”

A hush fell upon them.  The men, in all their decades of service aboard the cursed ship, had never known the Dutchman not to obey her captain.

“We need to abandon ship…” Elizabeth began, her voice tight in her throat.  “All men, abandon ship!” she cried.

It was chaos: every pirate flinging themselves into the water as the ships veered into one another, never to be halted, sails billowing in phantom winds to bring themselves together.  Will cast his gaze wildly toward the nearest spit of land to which all the pirates were now desperately swimming, and in the final moments before the collision, he wrangled himself a longboat, dropped it into the water, and dove in.

The Pearl and the Dutchman hit each other with the force of battling whales.

Battling—or so the crews thought—for who could possibly know the minds of such inhuman, fate-filled things?  Will looked back over his shoulder with the oars tight in his white-knuckled fists to see the two ships pushing each other down beneath the sea, bows dipping into the deep blue, their decks filling with water.

“Good God,” he whispered.

It was as the very top of the final mast plunged out of view that he felt a cold shudder pass through his body.  What terrible god had he crossed now?

The two crews stumbled up the sand of the tiny island, wheezing from exertion, wringing out their sleeves and kicking off their heavy waterlogged boots.  Pintel and Ragetti had flopped onto the ground across from one another, and they were trying to help pull off each other’s boots in unison with little coordination and little success.  Elizabeth turned and squinted out over the water to see Will’s longboat bobbing behind.

Will was the last to arrive at the beach, having been relegated to rowing all by himself, and finally the boat slid up to shore.  Maccus and Palifico ran down to help drag it up the sand, and Will let the oars fall to the bottom of the boat, and he heaved a weary sigh. 

“Sit tight, captain,” Maccus said, and he gave one final push to lodge the boat up on the dry beach.

The first mate looked to Will with a satisfied nod, and Will returned Maccus’s gaze with heavy eyes.  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said tiredly.

Elizabeth had hurried up to the boat, but she stopped a few paces short, her brows stitched in a question.  Will read the hesitation in her eyes.

“I think this would be a special exception in which the rules don’t apply,” he began.  “I don’t think the ferryman’s oath ever accounted for the Dutchman flinging her own crew into the sea.”

Elizabeth shook her head with a snort and came to the boat’s side, but she did not enter, and instead sat in the sand beside it.  She gave Will a tight smile.  “Just in case,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.

Jack and Barbossa were each in the process of subtly checking their pistols for shot.  Not a moment of tension passed where they didn’t re-evaluate the tried-and-true solution of simply shooting each other.  The two briefly glanced up from their mutual plottings at exactly the same time, caught each other’s gazes, and hurriedly looked away. 

All were uneased, but none more so than the Dutchman crew, who very rarely ever planted their feet on dry land.  But above all, beyond the disquieting feel of sand between their toes, they had looming existential questions to answer.

“So, is that it, then?” Penrod asked slowly.  “We’re done?”

There was a long, harrowing silence. 

“What,” Maccus said, “you think there’s going to be no more ferryman of the dead?”

“There can’t be a ferryman without a ship,” Penrod said.

“So the contract’s broke, then?” 

All eyes turned to Will, the only one capable of answering that question.  He opened his mouth in a stutter.

“He’d be able to step on land if it was!” Ragetti chimed in.

This…was true.  Very slowly, and ever-so-tenderly, Will withdrew his hand from his lap and lowered it toward the sand.  His fingers twitched, and his eyes did not blink.  All watched with bated breath as his fingertips approached the earth. 

There was a sound like a crack of thunder from the heavens, and nearly everyone let out shrieks of surprise.  Will recoiled, his hand trembling against his chest, and an almighty and powerful voice boomed over the island.

“ARRÊTE!” 

The furious voice of Calypso reverberated across the sands and sea.  It was a sound that was borne out of the waters themselves, out of the air, out of the trees, that went rattling inside their skulls.  It continued to echo and hiss within the cavities of their souls, and everyone’s mouths fell open in wonder.

Their eyes turned up toward the heavens in reverence.  A long silence passed.

“Holy hell,” Pintel breathed.

The two crews looked back at Will, who was shivering like a tiny dog.  Everyone except him seemed to be utterly bewitched by the cosmic occurrence.

“Do it again,” Ragetti said. 

Will shook his head emphatically, and it was Barbossa who strode over, and in a fit of scientific curiosity, he wrenched Will’s hand from his chest and brought it down once more toward the sand.

The deafening, godly voice called out again from beyond as Will’s fingers brushed the earth.

“RESTE!”  Calypso cried.

Will wrestled his wrist free of Barbossa’s grasp with a hiss of displeasure and crossed his arms across his chest.  The crews took a moment to feel the last echoes of the word passing through their bodies before they began to converse in low whispers.

“So the oath remains,” Barbossa said.  “The Dutchman, and possibly the Pearl, are still one with this world.”

“Then how do we get them back?” Gibbs asked.

Barbossa lifted his hands in a hopeless gesture.  “We wait.”

The crews watched him as he removed his heavy coat and folded it up to drop onto the sand.  He undid the buckles of his belts and slid his holster and scabbard off, letting them fall with dull thuds beside his feet.  He had just begun to strip off his drenched socks and shake loose his flowy sleeves when Jack let out a snicker.

“Putting on a show for us, aye?” Jack asked.

Barbossa rolled his eyes and turned away.  “We’d best start gathering food,” he said over his shoulder as he stalked off up the beach.  His foot caught in a dip, and he stumbled for a moment before righting himself with a sniff.  “Who knows how hungry we’ll all be before the ship decides to come back!”

The crews all looked to one another in terrible, frightful suspicion.  

——

They found food, gratefully.  The island was lush with coconuts, as well as a population of very plump, very slow birds which were totally incapable of flight.  Their little stunted wings flapped uselessly at their sides, and their bald faces went aghast as the crews picked them up, as easily as corralling crawling babies, to make their ample dinner every night. 

“Never seen a bird like that what’s so eager to get eaten,” Pintel said, sucking the end of a bone.

“Wonder why we haven’t seen them anywhere else,” Ragetti added.

The crews retired to the beach to sleep, laying out long mats of palm leaves in the warm tropical night.  Will was still in his longboat, naturally, and he’d managed to make a slightly more comfortable stay of it by piling the crews’ extra coats and shirts together as cushioning and pillows.  He laid his head down, then abruptly lifted it back up, sniffing the air in distaste. 

“Not a single good-smelling pirate to be had, eh?” Maccus asked.

The first mate had come up beside the boat to check in on the Dutchman’s out-of-work captain.  Will gave a defeated sigh and readjusted the crumpled clothing beneath him.  “It’ll do for now,” he muttered.

Maccus sat down in the sand beside the boat and leaned back on his hands.  He cast a glance inside the boat at the curled-up captain, and then up across the sand toward the flickering bonfire where Elizabeth was gazing into the flames.

“Terrible shame, being so close,” he said quietly, “but not being able to do anything at all.”

Will gave a hm of reply.  Crickets chirped from the treeline.

“I’m sure you have a lot of feelings and…frustration, naturally,” Maccus went on.

The waves washed over the shore.

“I’m sure you’d like to have somebody to shag.”

Will’s eyes shot open.  “I beg your pardon?”

Maccus gave a hacking cough and pounded his chest, clearing his throat loudly.  “Oi, who said that?” he asked.

Will sat bolt upright, fixing his disbelieving gaze on Maccus’s shadowed face.  Maccus returned it with a simple shrug.  “Just saying.”  He looked to the sky.  “A good first mate always finds a way to be of help to a captain in need, they say.”

“Help?”

“Oh, use your imagination,” Maccus said.  “See, Jones was a man with an imagination.”

Will blinked very hard several times, opened his mouth once, closed it, then opened it again.  “You and him?”

“Ten years is a very long time to never go ashore, you’ll see soon enough,” Maccus replied.

Will cast his gaze over toward the bonfire, and his eyes were momentarily speckled with firelight.  But with the slow dawning of sorrow, he turned back to the first mate in the dark. 

“Did you love him?” Will asked.

Maccus let out a sound like one of the many birds they’d wrangled that day: a great guffaw of surprise—too loud, too insistent—and beneath it all Will sensed a clawing need to be believed.

“No, no, not at all,” Maccus said, his voice becoming suddenly dry.  “No, it was simply functional.  Purely mechanical.  Not a thought to it, save our mutual relief.”

Will nodded very slowly, and Maccus watched him, needfully, in more ways than one.  “No love at all,” he insisted.

“Right,” Will said.  He leaned back into the boat and gave a loud sigh, shuffling his shoulders into the coats for comfort.  “I’m going to sleep.  Good night, Maccus.”

He heard the first mate let out a sniff, and Maccus stood and turned from the boat. The voices of the others chattering at the bonfire drifted over the beach.  “Give it five long and lonely years,” Maccus grunted, “and you’ll be wanting a piece of this pie.”

Will heard the sound of a hand smacking thick, jiggling flesh.

Maccus left the tired ferryman alone, stalking away across the sand.

The situation at the bonfire was decidedly more open to rash and unconventional pairings.  Or at least it was from the view of everyone else seated there except the two people it actually involved. 

Jack and Barbossa were on opposite sides of the fire, once again engaged in incessant bickering.

“—All I’m saying is, the Pearl has technically sunk under your command, which means you are no longer captain, which means she’s fair for the taking by anyone else.”

“She wasn’t sunk.  She was pulled down by a supernatural ghost ship what passes between this realm and the next, so that can hardly be called a conventional sinking—nay, it smells of divine intervention—”

“Call it whatever you will, she’s under the bloody sea, mate,” Jack said.  “What sorry ship on the seafloor hasn’t been sunk?”

“And after she sank the first time with you as her captain, you claimed her, again, which refutes the entire argument you’re trying to make in the first place!” Barbossa spat.

Maccus sat down heavily beside Elizabeth and nodded in the direction of the two men.  “When are they going to give this up and go at it?” he whispered.

Elizabeth was chewing her nail while staring off into space, and she shrugged absently.  “I’ve been asking myself that same question for two whole years,” she murmured.

The crews continued to tolerate the captains’ non stop arguments before finally wandering off to go to sleep.

——

Weeks passed.  The stupid plump birds on the island were plentiful and slow enough to continue making good meals for the crews.  Temporary shelters had been built in the absence of any sign of the two ships, and all were grateful for that semblance of comfort—with the exception of Will, who remained in his little longboat, growing ever more bored.

It was unfortunate indeed that all the other ships in the Brethren fleet had gone their separate ways immediately after the fight had ended, not daring to linger a single moment more so close to the English fleet.  And as they had watched the distant Pearl and Dutchman go underwater—her flailing crew too distant to be seen—the only thing anyone had said was, “Oh.  I guess both of them can do that, then.”

Who could be blamed for believing such a thing of the infamous Black Pearl?

The stranded crews moped around the island, inventing games and diversions to pass the time.

“What if you pelted my bollocks with coconuts?” Ragetti asked, squinting through the sun.

Pintel stopped cold in the sand and cast him a disbelieving glance.  “Seriously?  In your balls?  Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“I dunno.  It’s something new.  Want to try it?”

A moment passed, and Pintel gave a shrug, and the two set off in search of hard fruit.

Will took frequent dives into the water, needing to move his limbs, refresh his mind, and get out of that tiny, cramped space.  Maccus and the other Dutchman crew joined him on occasion, but it was Maccus who stuck by him the most.

“Sorry for being a pest,” Maccus began one day, their heads bobbing above the water.  “I don’t have an excuse for that.”

Will rubbed a hand across his eyes, clearing them of seawater.  “You’re not a pest.  I appreciate the sentiment, I know you were only trying to help.”

The tropical sun cast sparkling rays through the clear sea—Maccus continued to tread water slowly, drops trickling through his dark brown beard.  “Are you feeling alright?”

With a great sigh, Will swiveled his neck in a circle, letting out a series of loud and painful cricks.  “The oath may free us from ever needing food or drink, but it doesn’t do anything for a stiff neck.”

“Ah,” Maccus said.  “Shame, that.”

The two continued to tread water awkwardly before one another.  Maccus sniffed loudly and cleared his throat.  “So, anyway—”

“Would you mind—” Will gestured at his own back and neck, and swiveled around in the water to look back over his shoulder, “—loosening me up here?”

Maccus raised his brows.  “Oh.  Right.  Of course.”

The two men made their way as far up toward the beach as they could without invoking Calypso’s wrath—they had discovered through a great deal of trial and error that Will could just barely touch his toes to the sand, with his chin above water, and not yet be considered to be “on land”—and from there, Maccus stood behind him and clasped his hands on his shoulders.

“So just…ease up a bit, like that.”

He worked his way around Will’s shoulders, massaging and coaxing the muscles, digging his fingers into the knots made by weeks of uncomfortable confinement.  His rough hands had been worn to a leathery quality through over a century of service, but Will didn’t seem to mind.  The captain was, it seemed, melting under his touch.

“Mmm…right there,” Will murmured.

Maccus worked him into a state of moaning relaxation, Will’s mouth now underwater and letting out a stream of bubbles as his muffled noises urged Maccus on.  The first mate cast a furtive glance toward the beach, a bead of sweat upon his brow.

“We’d best get you back to the boat, I think—”

Will’s mouth surfaced from the water.  “Keep going,” he groaned.  “I need you.”

Maccus drew a deep and shaking breath.

“Need…um…this,” Will mumbled, the correction coming too late. 

Maccus swallowed hard and continued to massage the captain’s sore shoulders, now staring fixedly off over the sea.  He did not dare to look down.  Could not let himself see how Will’s mouth hung open, how gentle sighs escaped his lips, how his lashes fluttered with each flex of Maccus’s strong hands—before he realized his thumbs had been unconsciously making tender circles on the soft skin of Will’s neck.

And one of his forefingers had brushed up to trace the sharp line of Will’s jaw.

Will’s eyes opened slowly, glassy with a deep pleasure, and they fell upon Maccus’s face to hold him there.

Maccus quickly withdrew his hands, clearing his throat with a cough, and Will let out a long sigh as if emerging from a dream.  The captain hadn’t said anything.  Hadn’t drawn his attention to the fact.  He had seemed—oh God—immensely moved by that rare, gentle contact.

“I’ll head back to catch some more birds for the other crew,” Maccus said quickly.  He sloshed up ahead through the water, forcing his limbs to move as quick as possible, as Will stared after him without a word.  Three weeks, Maccus thought.  Holy hell, that was fast.

The first mate found Jack and Barbossa first by the sound of their raised voices, and he came upon them in the forest arguing between two trees.  Jack was shirtless, his back and arms now sunburned over the inscrutable text and charts that made up his full body tattoos, and Barbossa was hatless and raking his great long nails across his belly under his loosened shirt.

“It is your archaic insistence on hygiene that makes you oh so delectable to the palate of our tireless friends, the sand fleas,” Jack began.

“‘Tis the modern way,” Barbossa snapped, scratching incessantly.  “A clean body makes for a clean soul, and who knows what refuse and grime clings to you, poisoning your body all the more?”

“Aye, but it was this body that caught your wandering eye the other night, was it not?” Jack said.

Barbossa rolled his eyes.  “Words spoken under the sway of two and a half fermented coconuts hold no bearing on a man’s taste—nay, a man’s soul, at all.”

“You keep telling yourself that, darling,” Jack said, and he gave a coy wink.

Maccus pressed on through the trees, searching for anyone with a shred of sense.  He soon found Elizabeth, who was wrapped up in something involving the hunting party, tapping her finger on the page of an open book in her hand—it must have been on her when she jumped ship. 

“I don’t think these birds exist anywhere else,” she called out.  The hunting party did not appear to be listening.  “There were records of them from the journeys of sailors on the island of Mauritius—” squawking noises came from the cornered birds “—but a breeding pair of them must been brought over as a prize, or a food source, or perhaps part of a lost cargo—”

The sounds of crunching and wringing drowned out her voice, and Maccus looked between her and the birds with a wince. “—So I believe these may be the last population in existence,” she finished.

“Pirate King Swann-Turner,” Maccus cut in, “a word?”

“Yes, Maccus, what is it?”

The sounds of birds being tossed into woven palm leaf bags with heavy thumps momentarily broke the man’s concentration.  “You and your husband,” he began cautiously, testing the waters, “are you quite open?”

Elizabeth frowned.  “I should say so,” she replied.  “We speak our minds to one another.”

Maccus bit his lip.  “What I mean to ask is,” he swallowed, “are you two open to…to the openness of others?”

Elizabeth blinked, and then she gave a curious tilt of her head.  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Can he—”

“I think this is the biggest one we’ve seen yet!” Ragetti called out.  He was swinging a bird about by its legs like a windmill, its feathers fluttering through the air like snow.

“I’m so sorry, I need to attend to this,” Elizabeth said.

“Right.  Understood,” Maccus replied, forcing a smile.

——

The crews found themselves gathered once more around the bonfire on a quiet, breezy night.

Jack was nowhere to be seen, and for once Barbossa was enveloped in a grateful, encompassing silence.  He had brought his palm leaf mat up near the flickering light and lay on his side, bringing chunks of bird meat to his mouth to chew in thought.  But there was something about the absence of the other man that seemed to—no, it couldn’t be—cast a certain melancholy on him?

When Jack returned to the bonfire, Barbossa sat upright, and then abruptly checked his own visible enthusiasm.

“Where in God’s name did you get that?” Barbossa spat.

It was a fair question.  In Jack’s arms was a lute, utterly pristine with all its strings. 

“Found it,” Jack said, unhelpfully.  “Must have washed ashore.”

He sat down upon a sandy mound at the head of the fire and strummed a little chord.  The crewmen who had been conversing quietly turned their attention to him, having gone without the gracious sounds of music for far too long. 

Jack plucked a simple tune to accompany his meandering words.  “When I first laid eyes upon the Pearl,” he began, his voice slipping into the fond softness of memory, “I knew there would be none other like her.”

The crews listened, their breaths slowed, as the melody drifted through the night air.  “‘Course, back then I called her the Wicked Wench,” Jack went on with a chuckle, “which was unkind, in hindsight.  For there was not—” his tune picked up “—a wicked board upon her.”

He began strumming in earnest, his fingers flying across the strings, and all eyes were upon him as his voice rang out over the beach.

“There once was a ship that stole my heart,

I wished that we might never ever part.

So grand was she and our love so strong

if she’d sink I’d gladly go along!”

Barbossa let out a hearty chuckle, and a ripple of amusement went through the crews.  Jack licked his lips.

“Soooon came a terrible man,

a short old cunt with a white wigg’d head.

‘Work for me and you’ll earn your bread—

or you’ll hang until you’re dead!’ ”

The trees fluttered along the shore, and Gibbs shook his head in disbelief.

“I worked for him, and I worked three years,

breaking my back for pennies and tears.

A cargo came that I couldn’t abide,

whom I freed at the risk of me hide…”

Faaarewell, you beautiful boat!

He sent her down into Neptune’s throat.

I turned my tail, and I ran from land—

with a bright new burning brand.”

Jack sniffed loudly as his fingers continued to strum.

“I’d bear every lash of the bo’sun’s whip

to see her again a sailing ship,

but things in this world just can’t be pursed

lest you deal with the man with the curse.”

Will was listening in the distance from his longboat, and his head rose from the wood.

“Jooones waved his tentacled hand,

and brought her back upon earthly sands.

There she was, my glorious girl—

my love—my new Black Pearl!

Jack gritted his teeth and kept his eyes upon his flying fingers.

“I’d kill for her, I’d die for her,

I’d gut every one of you miserable curs.

But now she’s gone and we’re all trapped here,

so heed this very one fear:

Keeep watch whenever you sleep!

I’ll send you down to the treacherous deep!

No reason to live nor a reason to die,

when you’re dead, I’ll hardly cry!”

Jack strummed the last chord with an extravagant flourish, swinging his arm around to let it hang in the air, his chest heaving, with a toothy, ecstatic grin upon his face.

A moment of silence passed—and then Barbossa leapt to his feet, his eyes swimming with tears, applauding like a man at the most prestigious opera house in the world.  The crews joined in with howling cheers, and Will’s distant applause came from the shoreline.

“Thanks very much,” Jack said, setting the lute down upon the sand.  “I meant it all, too.”

Something had been irrevocably changed in Barbossa’s attitude that evening—the passion Jack bore for the Pearl no doubt rang true for every captain that loved his ship—but it was his ship too, that he had come to need so dearly.  When Jack returned to his spot across from Barbossa, the old captain’s eyes did not once leave Jack’s face.  There was an unfamiliar softness in them: a knowing stare.

“Beautiful,” Barbossa said quietly.

The night wore on, and Maccus was the only one who noticed that when Jack left for his little wooden shelter down the beach to sleep, Barbossa waited a few minutes, engaged in pleasant conversation, and then he excused himself to depart in that very same direction.  His little shelter rested on the other side of the forest.

Maccus turned to look over his shoulder at the lonely little longboat whose hull was now kissed  by the rising tide. 

He made his excuses and wandered off a way down the beach before circling back in the dark through the waves.  He came up beside the longboat quietly, peering in, wondering if he should have to wake Will—but he found the man seated on the floor of the boat, his back resting against the bench, his eyes glinting through the dark.

“Ah,” Maccus murmured.  “Do you need anything?”

Will lifted a hand in Maccus’s direction.  He did.

And a first mate always helped his captain.

——

Two unlikely pairs of men awoke in each other’s arms the next morning—though the two captains of the Pearl falling together had never been too unlikely.  Maccus gave a great yawn and opened his eyes to find Will’s arms looped around him, the man still snoring against his chest.  Best to let him rest.  He seemed so comfortable, which was rare, given the tight space.

The sun was already a few fingers above the horizon, and Maccus sighed pleasantly.  Maybe they could take a swim together—look at the reef and the bright fish on the other side of the island.  It was as Maccus was daydreaming these possibilities, with Will’s chest rising and falling against him in quiet sleep, that he heard shouts coming from the beach.

“They’re back!“

Will startled awake and the two men sat bolt upright, their heads popping up like petrified birds over the sides of the longboat.

But nobody seemed to notice or care, as Jack and Barbossa also rolled out of their singular shelter hurriedly replacing their clothing, and the two crews ran down the shore to assemble beside Will’s longboat to gaze out over the water with their jaws agape.  Jack secured the last button of his trousers and squinted out across the sea—and he gave a yelp of surprise.

“My ship!” he gleefully cried.

There they were, the Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman, as if no time at all had passed.

“She’s at full sail,” Gibbs breathed in disbelief.  “It’s like she never went under.”

The Pearl’s three masts were fully intact, and her hull sat high upon the water.

“What’s happened to her, then?” Elizabeth asked.  “Could it have been Calypso’s doing…?  A curse or…a jest?”

Maccus had slunk unnoticed out of the longboat like a stray cat and was standing in the sand, feigning having just arrived, his arms folded over his chest and a look of affected curiosity on his face.  He brought one hand up to rub his beard in contemplation.  “Maybe she was, ah, giving the ship a good look over,” he said.

“Why?” Elizabeth pressed.

Her question went unanswered as Ragetti leveled a finger toward the water behind the two ships, his fake eye quivering.  “Look.”

There was something—or several somethings—trailing in the waters behind the two ships that could not yet be seen.  The only evidence they had that it was there was in the two ships’ unnaturally long wake: the water behind them was carved through for fathoms more than it should have, but they were still too distant for the precise shape of the thing or things to be made out.  The Pearl and the Dutchman continued on slowly like two swans upon a lake.

Jack and Barbossa dug into their pockets and produced their spyglasses to press them to their eyes.  Their mouths hung open, struggling to discern the nature of the Pearl’s second miraculous resurrection.

“Ha!  She’s fully seaworthy and nautically capable with nary a scratch upon her,” Jack said.  His tone was somehow completely un-mystified by the supernatural happenings of it all and filled instead with glowing pride.  “Name a single ship in the world who could weather a sinking twice.”

“The Dutchman,” Will said.

Jack snorted.  “Doesn’t count.  I tell you, you make a man a captain for one day, and he acts like the hottest whore in the brothel.”

Will’s voice caught in his throat, and he did not reply. 

Barbossa continued to squint through his spyglass, and it was as the ships began a slow turn to port, bringing their bows about in the direction of the island, that his eyes went wide.  He staggered around the group and came up alongside Will’s little beached longboat and thrust the glass into his hand.  Will didn’t need any coaxing to stand up on the bench and look for himself at the ships.

His face went pale. 

Wordlessly, he turned toward Maccus who took the glass from his hands and peered out at the sea.  A hollow, strangled choke came from the first mate’s throat.  He lowered it slowly and handed it off to the next man.  One by one, the glass was passed among the Dutchman crew, and one by one, they fell silent, pale-faced, and would not dare to look at one another.

“What?” Elizabeth asked.  “What is it?”

Through all of this, Jack had hoarded his own spyglass and was currently distracted by a pair of very green parrots in a distant tree.  He let out a low chuckle.  “The things birds will do!” he mused, tittering in amusement.

“Oh, for the love of—”  Gibbs snatched the glass out of Jack’s hand, and Jack let out an indignant yelp, which he flatly ignored.  He looked out over the water, closing one eye to see.

“Mary, Mother of God,” Gibbs breathed.

The things following after the two ships, now that they were properly in view, were five identically sized, supernaturally propelled, fully autonomous longboats.  Their seats were empty.  Not a single oar graced the water from their sides.

“Let me see,” Elizabeth pressed, taking the glass for herself.  Gibbs’ hand remained hovering in the air, empty and frozen in disbelief. “Oh sweet and christened Christ,” Elizabeth stammered.

The five little longboats were of varying colors in a mix between the Pearl and the Dutchman.  One black, one with a shimmer of brown, two fully brown, and one that had a patchwork of colors dappled across its shiny sides.  Elizabeth lowered the glass from her eye, and she seemed to find it very difficult to breathe. 

“Did they…?” she began.

No one knew how to reply.  It was Maccus who brought a hand to his mouth with a faint Oh, and a realization dawned on him. 

“I—” he began, and the group all turned to look at him.  “I had heard some things when I went swimming underwater by the reef.  Big noises.  Quaking thuds.  Thought it might have just been some distant shipwreck settling, so it wasn’t worth mentioning, but…”

He could not finish the thought. 

The crews continued to stare at the strange thing before them—the miracle of life—or wooden life—there really wasn’t a word for it at all.  Jack’s hand had settled over his heart, and he let out a heaving breath.

“Never thought I’d be a stepfather,” he said, tearing up.  “I’ll raise them as if they’re my own flesh and blood.”

The crews looked to him with strained expressions of kindness.  And for once, Barbossa did not open his mouth to bicker.  Maccus looked down at Will with a wince.

“Kind of makes you a dad, too,” he said.Will’s face went pale, and he did not say a word.  He could never, ever have anticipated the strange and unexpected gifts that a life of piracy would bring.

[itsclydebitches]

I'm honestly curious as to what Salem was referring to in the first volume when she said, "there will be no victory in strength" - alluding to all the times Ozpin has failed to defeat her. Interestingly, Salem never directly strongarms her followers into working for her - violence only comes in when they disobey her (Cinder) or she has her followers do it for her. Meanwhile every conflict the heroes face is solved with violence with the exception of heel-turned antagonists who are either narratively disposed of (Ilia + Raven), added to the cast-bloat of 20+ onscreen characters (Emerald + Aceops) or killed off (Hazel), thus not having to reconcile with new dynamics that aren't "everyone is best friends, all the time".

In some respects it feels like a reversal of the standard moral we would expect from a tale like RWBY. (Though, as I always want to stress, not an intentional reversal.) Meaning, most shonen-esque, fairy tale-esque, young protagonists fight some evil force-esque stories present the message that it's not their literal power that saves the day, but rather the Power of Friendship/Love/Purity/Whatever. Or, more accurately, one leads into another. By embracing the emotion that the story wants to uphold as significant, they receive their power up as a cosmic reward (like going Super Saiyan over the love of a friend), or are otherwise rewarded with the solution to their difficulty (like the Guardians of the Galaxy crew splitting the power of the infinity stone). The in-world universe looks at the hero who has Behaved In The Morally Correct Way--which often includes overtly rejecting power--and says, "Here, have a lot of power anyway as a treat. You've proven that you deserve it." Something, something the best leaders don't want to be leaders (insert Ruby's Beacon arc here) and similarly, the people to have a ton of power are those who don't inherently want to be powerful because now there's little chance that they'll misuse it. And for a hot second RWBY went in that direction with a "simple soul" who doesn't want to be the "bees knees" but does want to "help people."

Problem is--as you say--Ruby and the group just solve all of their conflicts with violence. Not in a Power of Friendship/Love way, but ordinary, prodigy, punch-them-until-they-stop-moving violence. Particularly in the later volumes. Ruby doesn't defeat Cordovin with a power-up because a teammate was injured in the fight and she now wants to protect them, they just shoot at her until a massive grimm shows up to finish the job. They don't defeat the Ace Ops with the Power of Teamwork, they all split into separate rooms and we're told they're simply more talented than these professionals, period. Blake doesn't find the strength to defend herself by thinking about Ruby, she begs Ruby to wake and do the work for her. Jaune doesn't save Penny by unlocking some upgraded semblance at a crucial moment out of a love for her, he slits her throat. The group doesn't defeat Cinder in Volume 8 at all. There's no strategy anymore, or success tied to Love--and I do use the word "anymore" deliberately. Because for a long time RWBY's saving grace (no matter its other flaws) were the Silver Eyes: a straightforward ability Powered By Love that was at the heart of our hero's development. Ruby sees Pyrrha die and it activates. She sees Blake in great danger and it activates. Even in Volume 6 when it was getting very flimsy with memories of decorating the dorm and what-not, at least it still revolved around the concept of a found family, even if it was retconning the idea of mortal peril being a trigger. It still mostly worked.

Now though, Ruby simply decides that the fight is over and disintegrates the Hound--no emotion necessary--and she doesn't react at all when her sister is murdered. We lost the one aspect of the show that still revolved around the Power of Friendship/Love.

Which finally brings us back to Salem's opening speech. "There will be no victory in strength." AKA, the standard moral. You can't defeat me by training, learning fancy techniques, or even being a prodigy. At least, you can't wield those things on their own. All the straight-forward power in the world isn't going to bring me down. Her immortality should be a metaphor for that message, wherein the cast learns the thematic lesson of upholding the Power and Love by figuring out how to circumvent the practical problem of an enemy that can't die. This setup works. It's tried and true and tested!!

But than, as said, RWBY swerved hard. Now they're saying that strength is enough. Strength is the ultimate weapon. How do you deal with a traumatized ally? You punch him and demand that he return for more violence. How do you convince an abused brother to help you? Threaten him with your sword. How do you beat the best team in Atlas, possibly the world? By just being more powerful than them, duh.

How do you defeat Salem?

By fighting her. That's the closest the group gets to offering Ironwood a "solution" to their problem: we'll stay here and fight her. How is that going to work given the whole immortality thing? They don't know. They don't care. There's absolutely no discussion about the issue, yet the protagonists continue to push the message that the best--the only--solution is to stand your ground, sharpen your weapons, and find a way to punch the problem into submission. Oh, RWBY still appears very Power of Friendship-y with all the speeches about how they have to work together, but post Volume 4-ish the writing hasn't followed up on that message.

RWBY said, "There will be no victory in strength" and then halfway through its run went, "Never mind, strength is awesome. Why would we write a story about strategy, creativity, and the importance of strong bonds when our heroes can just be More Powerful than the enemy? It's so much simpler to write a story where they're inherently as talented as the plot needs and they've all read the script, so they know they'll win in the end--that's their reasoning and justification. So much better than writing that complicated metaphor."

You know, I'm thinking now about Ironwood's final moments as he reached for his gun and then dropped his hand. Besides the fact that it reads as more sympathetically tragic to me than, I suspect, the pathetic angle RT was going for, within this framework it really reflects his whole philosophy. In a "normal" Power of Love story, there might be something to the idea that he isn't trying hard enough; that unlike our protagonists who Persevere, Ironwood demonstrates a pronounced weakness in giving up. But since the story has established quite clearly that conventional violence will not win this fight--AKA, a gun--it reads more like a tragic wisdom. In his final moments he's not giving up because he can't fight anymore (I mean, whatever else we might say about the guy, he's incredibly determined and resilient), but because he understands that the only course now available to him is useless. From the moment Oscar told him the truth, Ironwood has been working within the realities of their situation. It led him to doing horrific things in the name of finding a lesser evil, but it's narratively significant that he (and Ozpin) is one of the only characters who truly accepts the problem of Salem's immortality and doesn't bow out of the fight (like Raven). He understands that picking up a gun and shooting this being is the height of stupidity. It's a waste of time, of energy, of focus. It might be comforting to pretend that their weapons are still a viable option, but he's not going to spend his last slice of life chasing a delusion. It won't work.

Meanwhile, or protagonists are still ignoring this problem 99% of the time and the other 1% they're going, "Hmm... but what if we tried brute strength 🤔?"

[thatiranianphantom]

Hi there.

Your ship is dead. Bullying a grown man and hiding behind ‘bUT IM A TEENAGER” is bullshit. If you have ANY ounce of dignity, just stop fucking watching the show. You are going to drain yourself and drive yourself crazy over a fictional tv ship which you don’t DESERVE. Maybe I might have had sympathy for you in season 4. Before you bullied half of the cast and lili to tears (do you remember when she had to come out and say ‘it’s a fucking tv show’ only for you to STILL whine and cry and throw your bottles? Ted is right. You are the most disrespectful, selfish freaks of fandom I’ve ever come across and I hope to god you grow the fuck up and get TV comprehension skills. Because you have ZERO. Crying about the ratings which have been falling since season 3 is not going to bring back your CORPSE of a ship. Betty and Jughead don’t even like each other and you expect them to fuck? You will cry when the writers are “sexualising teenagers!!!” But when Betty and Jughead were having roleplay sex as 16 year olds it was fine?

You cried and begged and demanded bughead sex scenes and bABY JULIET when these kids were 15/16 years old and you call out the writers for being creepy now? NOW???? You call Archie disgusting and using Betty as a “baby maker” doll, housewife, but you have wanted that woman (or CHILD) fucking rat boy and having his kids since they were literally kids themselves? Do you see the hypocrisy or should I continue?

“How DARE the writers have Betty change everything about herself for Archie that is so GROSS AND MISOGYNISTIC.”

Yep. And Betty didn’t do a serpent dance at 15 to fit into Jughead’s world?? Now that is changing herself for a boy.

You’re hypocrites and are salty because your ship is dead, the actors despise each other, and you can’t make Sprousehart edits without the feeling that it may be wrong, because rat boy is an abuser. Barchie have never tried to erase bughead. Because it happened. It was cute, and it was a thing that happened. Betty loved him.

But the fact that you constantly delude yourselves with insane theories which are wrong every single time to erase barchie is hilarious. Seriously. “It’s an au!! “Archie’s light gives Betty headaches!” “We are going back to 5x17!” “Jughead shielded Betty” “the season 6 universe was erased!” That makes it clear you see barchie as developed, and real. And a THREAT which you can’t shop unless you erase it. You can’t hide behind “it’s forced! “It came out of nowhere!” Barchie was building from the first episode. If you cannot understand the point of two mains Archie and Betty, slowly getting feelings while being with other people; you are either stupid, or a child. This show was RULED by bughead and lili and Cole can service. The teen choice award you keep talking about? WAS VERY CLEARLY THERE TO HYPE UP THE ACTORS DATING. If you can’t get??? You’re an idiot or a child. If you can’t understand the point of a slow burn which was Betty and Archie being sidelined by a psychotic fandom who bullied the writers into four season of bughead fucking in a bunker and varchie arguing with hiram, you are an idiot. Sweetie. BABES. When the fifties are over and Archie and Betty have fallen in love AGAIN, and they return to a riverdale free of darkness, Toni and Cheryl are together, Veronica and Reggie— and Jughead and Tabitha, what are you going to do? Implode? Delete? Murder a crew member? I don’t know what you will do but holy shit it will be entertaining to see you fall. A fandom who spent 7 years terrorising barchies, cast members and writers, making fake sexual assault allegations for each cast member, being disgustingly racist to Vanessa and ash, and body shaming Lili. Bullying KJ until he very clearly went off of the edge in the pandemic, and for some reason also going after your GOD rat boy. I’m saying this to you and all of you. Yes, barchies and Choni’s have said some awful things, as well as varchies. But nothing can top the entitled brats you are. And I hope when Lilis contract os over, and she reveals Cole was an abuser, she tells you all to go and fuck yourselves.

.........

..........

........

wut????

This manifesto is so very confusing to me. Somehow, you've both been stalking my blog and been paying no attention at the same time.

I'll admit, I didn't read much of this, but a few things

This is now the second time today that someone on the internet accused me of being a teen. I'm flattered, don't get me wrong, but what is it about this? I am a grown ass adult. Is it something I am putting out there?

Oh please, please desperate BA anon, may I have your sympathy back??????

"Ted is right." Oof, anon. Very oof.

I would like you to go on, anon, please point out to me where anyone thought the Serpent Dance was a good decision? And where the seasons 1-4 sex parties and girls with one character trait were?

The BA stuff, I can't....I can't even....what?

What teen choice award do I keep talking about???? I am so confused????

The only thing in this.....jumble of words that offended me was you calling Cole "rat boy" (also did you imply that I love Cole? Have you....read my blog?) because I have rats and excuse you, they're amazing. Look at this leetle boy

Apologize to him this instant!

Look how upset you've made him!

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/16/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; Rhys Darby; Vico Ortiz; Samba & David; WooAsACrew; WatchPartyReminders; CrewSpotlight; LukeLemonArt Puzzle; Nes' 3K Giveaway; Acts of Grace Variety Show; FiberArtsDivision; Articles; LoveNotes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

= Rhys Darby =

You've probably aleready seen, but in case you missed it, here's Rhys' latest cameo featuring storytime! Nothing like a good couple of readings from Rhys to really bring out the dopamine!

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico posted a new photo on IG today. You're welcome. <3 Src: Vico's IG

== Samba & David Fane ==

Our lovely Nicola Dove, stills photographer for OFMD S2 posted some gorgeous shots of Samba and David today on her @filmstillsacademy on IG

== Save OFMD Crew WooAsACrew ==

More #WooAsACrew going on, real flowers being sent to Netflix! Thank you to @ tobinezumi42 on Twitter and @ KelliMZielinski on Twitter!

We made it through a WHOLE WEEK of #WooAsACrew! What an amazing job Crew! Tomorrow-- it's a day to treat yourself! Wanna read some fanfiction? Wanna eat something you don't normally get to? Wanna do something goofy? Do it! Treat Yo'Self!

== Watch Parties ==

= People of Earth =

Reminder! Feb 17, People of Earth Season 1 Watch Party Make Up starts at 9 AM EST, 6 AM PT, 2 PM GMT. Please reach out to @saveofmdcrewmates for a link to the discord server.

= Uncle Season 1 =

Uncle Season 1 Watch Party has finished! Thank you so all who were able to join! Just some highlights from #ForTheNewUncle!

== Crew Spotlight ==

Today is a lighter news day so I'd like to take some time to spotlight some fun stuff from the crew!

Check out this awesome puzzle by LukeLemon_art on twitter and here on tumblr!

= Nes' 3K Giveaway =

One of our lovely crew members, Nes Lee is having a sticker giveaway on twitter! to celebrate 3K followers! Wanna get in on it? visit @thehideoutt on twitter

== Acts of Grace ==

Hey! Have you heard of the OFMD Themed Variety show in Alameda CA? These awesome folks just had their Acts of Grace Part II yesterday the 15th! Check out some of these highlights! More pics and videos on their Twitter!

Wanna know when their next show is? Follow their socials!

Instagram: OFMD Acts of Grace

Twitter: OFMD Acts of Grace

== Fiber Arts Division ==

Reminder! The second Fabric Project of the Fiber Arts Division has been announced! Do you Applique, Cross Stitch, Embroider, or anything else with a needle and thread? They'd love to have you! Please contact @ForceMonument On Twitter, or Discord: @parrhesia_kate!

== Articles ==

27 TV Show Cancelations That Are, Quite Literally, The Reason I Have Trust Issues

All 14 TV Shows Canceled Or Ending In 2024 (So Far)

== Love Notes ==

Alrighty lovelies. It's that time again. I know it's been a VERY long week. A VERY LONG WEEK. If you have a chance, please be so very kind to yourself tomorrow. If you can, don't worry about other people's problems for a day. Don't worry about whether or not your struggles are worse or better than any other person in this world. You are allowed to struggle, and grieve and feel sadness just like everyone else. Your struggle is just as valid no matter what it is. It can feel so very heavy, but please just know it will not always be that way. If it's too heavy to bear, reach out to your crew, we're here for you, we will try to help. Find things that you love and lose yourself in them even if it's just for a few minutes. You deserve joy, and happiness and for things to feel a bit lighter. Remember to drink some water, and go outside if weather permits. Even if it's just for a few minutes, you deserve a break. We love you crew, every one of us. You're our found family and we are rooting for you.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

In honor of the water and beach BTS we got yesterday from our beloved Samba, I figured we could use some generally beach themed gifs for tonight that sorta match.

PS: Sorry if I'm late replying to messages! Lot of wonderful folks on the crew reaching out today, I promise I'll catch up <3

[austinbutlermedia]

danmacpherson:

Feb 2015, Waiheke Island, New Zealand. The Shannara Chronicles :

It was a big break for all three of us, lead roles for Aaron & Austin, and my first US job after quitting moonlighting as a live TV host and returning full time to acting. We worked hard and we trained hard on this gig, each of us wanting to do our very best on what was a large scale, ambitious fantasy series, with an incredible cast & crew, bringing to life the much loved works of the legendary @officialterrybrooks

This weekend was about taking a break however, and thanks to EP @dan_farah we got on the ferry over to Waiheke for a night. Chicken and Broccoli was replaced with pasta, pizza chocolate, red wine, open fires, warm jackets, bunk beds and lots and lots of laughs.

I have nothing but love and admiration for both of the gents with me in these pictures. Huge hearted men, with incredible work ethics, it’s no surprise that one them is a strong favorite to win an Oscar this weekend. Dreams man, aint it nuts. @austinbutler, you deserve nothing but success - your hard work, commitment to your craft, your innate empathy and compassionate nature is a joy to see - and now the world is witnessing it. Regardless of the outcome of Sunday, wishing you nothing but continued success in front of, and away from the cameras my friend 🙏🏼👊🏼

**Side note - apart from an incredible weekend in Austin, TX, Austin was actually a strong influence in how we named our son Austin Xavier MacPherson 👍🏼"

[tiptapricot]

Ok ok finally MacKay issue 21 thoughts. This is somewhat of a rant/ramble/drawn out analysis and summary created as I did a reread, so it’s a bit rough as far as flow of ideas go but I hope it’s interesting to y’all. But TLDR: MacKay dug into a truly essential aspect of his cast this issue, AKA, who they are outside of business, what living means to them, and how trauma affects and is shown in them all, and I’m excited to see that trend hopefully continue.

First off, I feel like I remember noticing it in the past but only solidly realized that Reese has a nose piercing when looking over this issue again. I think her design has been wonderful to see evolve, from the recent hairstyle change to locs to just her solid almost punk-ish style in general. Her dress and moon shoulder things are gorgeous this issue, and overall her styling is just a really nice visual way to give a vibe for her as a person.

And of course! First issue from her point of view. I hadn’t realized how much we had been needing that. It’s been so many issues now from Marc’s point of view or the system’s in general, that getting another one from the Midnight Mission crew feels refreshing. It allows us a look into Reese as a person again, instead of her just being part of the job or the system’s friend.

And that seems to be the focal point of the beginning here, of taking characters outside of where we’ve seen them. It’s been months, maybe almost a year that they’ve been working together, and Reese is only just now getting Soldier to loosen up and go out. She’s having to give him a crash course on how to be a person, both in the social and vampire sense. She makes him fill up on blood because she knows the rules and how it works, but MacKay also shows us it’s not just natural, they can still taste the blood, they don’t like it. Vampirism is not benign and in the background it’s front and center and constantly there to remind them what they aren’t.

But even then… they still have friends. Or Reese does at least.

I love Teddy and Shannon’s intro, because it helps to retroactively show us that Reese isn’t isolated. She’s been going out and making friends with other vampires. It’s domestic and human and normal, Teddy joking with the Draculads and Draculadies greeting (a line I just think is super fun and sweet), and Shannon wrapping Reese up in a hug. Reese has connections even when separated from humanity, friends and colleagues and people struggling with the same thing she is.

I wonder if Shannon and Teddy were vampires she met after being turned, ones who taught her the ropes, or if they were friends before hand, all getting turned in the same kind of nabbing. We get a line later about stuff they used to do “before” and how they’re just now getting back into it, but it’s unclear if they were friends and all turned to vampires, or just had similar outings. Either way, how those connections were formed opens up a lot of possibility into the world of shared trauma and experience, into finding your community and your people and moving forward with each other.

It also highlights how much of an outsider Soldier is in all this. Teddy and Shannon know him, he knows them, they’ve probably exchanged brief words when Reese has gone out with them in the past, maybe even tried to goad him into coming along, but it’s not his friend group. It’s a bit awkward. Soldier is trying but even at the start he’s confused, but they’re bringing him into the fold because it’s what he needs, and they care about him.

Then of course!! Jake! He immediately comes in with a big smile, and nicknames, and his face visible, calling them kiddos and picking them up like a chaperone to prom. Since these few pages were the preview, they’ve already been talked about a lot, but it’s deserved. MacKay nails Jake so well. He’s personable and goofy and has the warm vibe of an uncle and an old friend. He clashes slightly with Soldier’s formal vibe, again highlighting the out of place-ness Soldier has in normal friend and social interactions. Jake isn’t a boss, this isn’t a mission, Jake is for the people and they’re going out to dance!

It’s just a lovely display of Jake’s role and vibe and the relationships that have been building. Jake calls Marc and Steven the boys and slightly teases them on how they worry about mission things, once again showcasing the central focus of this issue of duty vs life, the job vs the people. And of course, all his lines are just delightful.

There’s also more hints and foreshadowing in the car ride of the overall plot we may be seeing, references to whether or not Zodiac is pulling strings again, what his influence may be in all of this. It’s a new mystery we’re being led into, and I’m excited for it.

The art on the drive is also gorgeous, the squeak of the tires the lights blurring, the city coming into view. Rosenberg, the colorist, always does an amazing job, and Cappuccio’s art (while I don’t always love how he does faces or proportions) captures movement and texture so well.

And then there’s the club scene. Jake drops them off, using his connections to get special treatment for those he cares about (and people in the line are mad about it), and then assuages Marc’s worries about having what they need (which obvs comes back later). You can tell Marc is hovering close to front because of how on edge he’s been, something I’ll touch on in a further scene.

Reese’s narration mixed with the visuals here makes for such a wonderfully tactile experience for the heightened senses of a vampire. We get to see her joy, the almost overwhelm of sensation but also how visceral and filled with life it makes the experience. The line that really gets me is “…I had to remind myself to breathe so I could talk.” It nails not just the breathless feeling of community but also the breathless feeling of being dead, the normal impulses of a body that now have to be a conscious effort.

And then Soldier.

We cut to him and his face is uncomfortable, he’s shrunken, slow, reserved. He looks out of place and it’s obvious he feels out of place, that he’s unsure and confused and doesn’t know how this works and is aware he doesn’t. There’s been an underlying current to everything of his inability to separate himself from his duties, from being the tool for something, that’s been present throughout the whole run but was especially highlighted during the end of the Structure arc, and is brought back again here. Reese even states this, states how she’s seen his patterns grow, how she doesn’t even know his name. He’s just Soldier. He’s just a soldier. But she won’t let that stand. Her smile is bright and she shoves him and teases him because he is her friend and they are still people and still get to have fun. He gets to have fun. The entire exchange about who’s in charge, and seeing a small smile grow on Soldier’s face as he finally gets into it just showcases something so special and sweet about the ways these characters exist outside of the fights and searches we’ve mainly seen them in.

This progression… it makes me so happy. (ID in ALT)

They’re friends having fun, getting out of their shell, living an unlife and losing themselves in it together.

But it doesn’t last, because for those involved in moon knight business, life gets taken over by the job, almost like it can’t be escaped. I think it’s also important to note the fact that when Reese pauses and looks concerned, Soldier immediately thinks he’s doing something wrong, that he’s doing the social activity wrong and she’s upset with him about it. There’s a lot of bigger and smaller ties into how he views himself and life, how he’s been conditioned to be a certain way an has to work to let himself go.

Reese’s immediate honing in on something being off and the way her face falls is also crushing. Even trying to be human again, even being just people, they can’t escape their hyper vigilance, the way their senses are tuned for threats and able to pick up on things others don’t. She even says it. “We had been made, or remade, to hunt and kill at night. So even across the warehouse, even through the dark and the lights, I could see him. I could see what he was doing.”

And they can’t do anything. They can know something is going to happen but not what, they’re helpless to wait to react because they have to know what they’re reacting to. And then the chaos hits and it’s mission mode. Solider pushes Reese out of the way and the glass crashes down as Marc breaks in and normalcy and an attempt at it is shattered.

And as with the rest of this run, colors work to highlight this. The pink of the club becomes tinted red by violence when the mind control audio hits, and the cool blue of moon knight cuts through to handle it. The colors are gorgeous and contrasting and show the moods of the scene and the people involved, the water on the wound.

And of course, Marc was standing by. What Jake references in the trunk had to be the suit, because Marc’s also the uncle, the watchful leader worried about the young adults he’s pulled into his crazy shit. He’s the parent walking you home from work and parked outside as you close up shop. Protection is a love language for him and it’s also compulsory. If you’re in his group you are in his group and he would fucking die for you. Normalcy scares Marc and yet he craves it, because it is both harder to control, but desires deeply. Reese and Soldier and their friends go out scared him, and he had to watch, especially after losing so many close to him so quickly in the previous issues. Just like them he’s also on watch, hyper aware, only able to act when something has happened to stop.

But Reese is right that it can’t all be rage. The people are innocent and their violence isn’t the root of the problem it’s the sound. And continuing with brute force is only going to cause further issues. Reese knows vampirism she’s lived vampirism and she doesn’t want to hurt people. We see it at the start with telling Soldier to top off and here knowing that spilled blood could send them into danger, make them a threat.

And so what does she do? When there is a threat that’s disrupted normalcy and a problem that’s hard to combat and rage may only bring more pain?

She dissociates. Physically.

It’s easy to, when it’s needed, when it’s the necessity, but pulling things together, making things work, living with what you’re able to and need to do and not just letting things drift and become chaotic, it takes effort and grounding.

And that’s… well that’s very similar to what Marc’s arc has been. Very similar to mental dissociation. It’s easy for him to try and ignore his problems, to brute force his way through them and separate himself from them, but making things work, maintaining system communication and balance, not letting him and his headmates get distanced and striated from each other, not losing hold of themselves, is hard. It takes work and practice and intention, not just what feels easiest.

And there’s also that tie between vampirism and trauma, between the way Reese has dealt with her stuff representing healthy and routine coping, versus Soldier and Marc still struggling with that. They struggle with working with what they have and both knowing it’s there, but not letting it take over or define everything. The hyper vigilance, the fear of worse happening, the self isolation and the push away from what they're experiencing because there is "shame" (other headmates, having to drink blood for safety). They’ve all been through a lot and lost people and lost themselves, and they’re working on it in different ways.

And also. Well Reese turning into smoke/mist looks super fucking cool.

And she’s not perfect! She falls mid air and doesn’t quite tackle the villain but she still ends the immediate problem. And then she gets shot. She’s fine but it still hurts. Small victories can still be rough, working towards something better can still sting.

It also sets up this arc’s conflict well. Our main characters are immune to these sounds, because they’ve been alienated from people as a whole and as a concept, even if at their core they’re still human, and that grants a separateness from the threat of being forced to lose control. But if it’s experimentation, if someone is behind the scenes pulling the strings and trying to cause conflict, how long will that safety last? Trauma can in some ways grant an awareness of threats that works as a heads up or a numbing agent, but that doesn’t mean it’s a shield. There can be cracks and people can still get in, and the hurt still happens.

They may be safe for now, but will it be that way always? Will the mission really be forever, not allowing for a break, not allowing for a breather?

This issue was from Reese’s perspective, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it shows some of the most normal activity we’ve seen in the entire series. Her lens on life is different from the others, she’s found ways to work on healing, to not be trapped in one place, and as such her story gives us a view outside of direct missions, to other places of town and other joys. It contrasts against Marc, to the story we’ve been told thus far mainly from his perspective.

So to the previous to questions, no, it won’t. For both. The cast can’t escape their situation, they have to deal with it and confront themselves and what happens, but it also isn’t everything. There are people besides them to connect with, moments of downtime, lives to live that are not defined by a midnight mission that stretches into dawn.

It may just be a while until they’re really able to rest their feet.

(And on a side note, this can all be applied even to members not in this issue, to Steven, to Badr, both dealing with trying to make things work via logic and faith, working to make things work, to do a duty. Is Badr immune like the system? How will his changing views on the world and Khonshu and relationships play into a plot revolving around enemies being created even from people you love? The cast has been working to build up relationships and trust for so long and this, I assume, will be testing that. And it seems like next issue Greer will be involved as well, based on the cover, so we’ll see how other characters are further affected (-: )