#there's a lot of reasons to carpet your starship

[sexy-bag-of-mostly-water]

The only real problem I have with new Trek is the lack of carpeting, with all the space battles throwing everyone around you'd think they would want to hang on to the soft cushion of low pile flooring

[cartooncenteral]

[[A black limo pulls up in front of a California Hotel as it shows that Ariana is inside of it]]

Ariana: What's Up Viewers Watching at home  Good Morning to all the folks that took the time to witness history in the making, In Just a Few Minutes The 20 teams that you met at the red carpet special are about to be informed of what their Future awaits them, Get ready and fasten your seatbelts, Especially you Dad, because it's time to write Someone's Chapter to Fame and Stardom, This Is the one, the only, the Hollywood Starship Games!!!, Cue the Intro!!

**

 [[The Contestants are sleeping at the world-famous Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel waiting for Ariana and the Crew to arrive to start the competition, all of sudden a bugle-horn echoed throughout the hotel's hallway and woke everyone out of their sleep]]**

Reagan: Alright that's enough Steve, you can stop that now!

Steve: your right Reagan, And Hello Contestants, Rise and shine, Get dressed, grab a quick bite to eat, grab your personal Belongings because its competition day said the mysterious voice.

[[the contestants peeked out of their rooms to see who was talking to them and to their surprise they were four people standing out their doors who they didn't see yesterday]]

Benson: Steve, what are you doing! do you have any idea what time it is, there was no reason to blow that horn so early in the morning!

Steve: So sorry about that, we just wanted to tell you good morning

Sheriff Blubs: Yeah, and is there another reason for you waking all of us up and nearly giving me a Heart Attack 

Steve: In fact, there is, Ariana told us to tell you to get ready because she has a surprise waiting for you outside the hotel, so your better hurry up or you might get left behind.

Sam: how much time do we have to get ready, do we have time to eat?

Stat: You have 15 minutes to get ready, which means you have 5 minutes to go to the bathroom, 5 Minutes to grab your things, And 5 Minutes to grab Something to eat downstairs, now stop the chit chat and Get Ready because were on a Schedule.

[[Everyone starts to hurry up and get ready as they freshened up, grab their belongs, and got breakfast downstairs]]

Ariana: Good Morning Contestants, Hope you enjoyed your Rest last night.

Poison Ivy: We were until those Q Force idiots woke all of us with their annoying Horn, couldn’t you have just knocked on our damn doors and told us to get up?

Ariana: Yeah, I could have done that, but just to be sure you didn't come down here yawning, I had to, Anyway Come outside I got something cool for you to see.

[[Ariana Leads the Contestants outside the hotel and jaws dropped as they saw a giant spaceship outside in the parking lot]]

Jess: Hey Ariana, she's all gassed up and ready to fly!

Anne: Ally, Jess!!!

[Anne hugs the two technician girls like she's never hug anyone in ages]

Anne: you didn't tell me you were working this game show!

Ally: Well surprise, hey, where are your little friends? 

Anne: oh, they're not here, I left them to watch my parents over at my house.

Jess: Bummer, well anyway, you want to hang out later after the contest?

Ariana: Alright, that’s enough Ally and Jess, You can go on your break now said, Ariana.

Jackie: Who are they?

Ariana: Those two are the IT Girls, Ally, and Jess, I picked them up from Anne's world

Keith: Is... Is that the Spaceship you talked about last night?

Ariana: It is indeed This baby will be home for the next couple of days Until you're Eliminated, of course, I call it the Hollywood Star Shuttle, This Ship has everything you need including Restrooms, Dining Area, Sleeping Rooms, Activity area, Pool, Hot tubs, and A bar for the Adult Contestant's only. 

Catra: So Awesome, can we go inside now, oh can we please Ariana!

Ariana: Not yet Catra, First I have to let the Q Force explain to you guys the rules while being on the Ship, Twink care to explain the rules?

Twink: Yes, now contestants, rules on the ship go as follows.

1. Romance is allowed on board which includes Finger Holding, Hair Caressing, Hugging, and Kissing, No and I mean no Below the Belt, or you are automatically disqualified.

2. Contestants are to be in their Assigned Sleeping Rooms by the time of 11 o'clock to 7 o'clock.

3. Do not go in any of the Crew Member-only area's which includes Captain Quarters, Break Rooms, Maintenance Room, and Importantly, the Ship Control Room, Got That!

Contestants: Yes!

Steve: Good Grab your things and let's go, Deb Open her Up.

Deb: Got it, boss!

[[Deb opens up the front door of the ship as Everyone walked up the steps and aboard the ship as they were shocked to see all the stuff and how shiny the inside was]]

Poison Ivy: Well, Damn, You really went all out on this place, impressive work.

Ariana: Thanks, Now the last thing I need from you is to Let me announce the roommates for the sleeping Quarters ok, here we go, Luz and Amity you will be sharing room number one with Enid and Red.

Enid: Sure, dude sounds, I'm down

Red: Hey, I'm just focused on winning, so I don't care who me and Enid share a room with.

Luz: Sounds good to me, Amity how about you are you good with it?

Amity: Uh... Sure I'm totally good with it, not a problem!

Ariana: Ok then Room Number 2 will be Luna, Sam, Bubblegum, and Marceline.

Luna: Rad, You two are going to be totally pleased that we bunked with you, Me and Sam are Great with people.

Marceline: Sure hope so, Hey by the way I saw heard you were good with guitars, you think maybe we can do a duet together?

Luna: Are you kidding me, I'd be happy to, Me and Sam are in a band together and are in desperate need of work, so yes we will practice sometime.

Ariana: Ok next to Room 3 are Charlie, Vagie, Harley, And Ivy.

Charlie: Oh wow, new Roommates, this is So exciting, Hi I'm Charlie Morningstar nice to meet 

Harley: Wait, Morningstar, as in Lucifer Morningstar?

Charlie: Yep!

Matthew: Wait, so you're telling us that you are the daughter of the devil himself?

Vaggie: Yes she is, but don't let the scary personal background scare you, were are nice demons.

Troy: Impossible, There's no such thing as a nice demon.

Charlie: Well, Me and Vaggie are the only ones.

Luna: Wicked!

Charlie: Well thank you Luna, At least someone guests it 

Harley: whatever, I'm still going to keep an eye out for you.

Ariana: Alright, now back to the list, Um... Jackie and Chloe, you will be with Anne and Maggie.

Jackie: Sweet, Should be a blast, Going to be cool to learn about you two!

Anne: totally, if that's cool with you Maggie

Maggie: Hey, if that means we can get through this show faster, then fine

Chloe: Quel est votre problème?

Anne: What did she say Jackie?

Jackie: She said what's her problem?

Maggie: What! I don't have a problem, if anything you are the one that is starting the problem!

Anne: Woah! calm down Maggie, she was just saying what was wrong, that is all

Maggie: Nothing is wrong, leave me ok, Jeez!

Ariana: Ok then... so Last but not least, Catra and Adora you will be with Korra and Asami

Adora: Nice to be bunking with you girls, be nice to know some new people.

Korra: For sure.

Ariana: OK now for the Boy's rooms!

Steve: Uh Boss the Hyperspeed is Ready!

Ariana: What!

[[Ariana looks up at the wall and sees that the hyper speed light and see that's it blinking]]

Ariana: Um... Ok back to the rooms um let me just read them all right now, Reeve and Adam you're with Troy and Benson, Blubs and Durland are with Sorcerio and Orval, Alexander and Terry and with Greg and the Other Terry, Raj and Shawn are with Matthew and Jay, and Lance and Keith are with Min-gi and Ryan!

Luna: Ariana, why are you going so fast, It's only a blinking light?

Deb: Attention Contestants. Hyper speed Protocol in 1 Minute, Please find a seat or a room to protect yourself from flying off somewhere on the ship.

Luz: Um... What does she mean by that?

Ariana: She means run to somewhere safe and sit down and stay calm as soon as possible, Now, Run for safety!!!

[Everyone Runs around the ships looking for some safe place to stay as Luna, Sam, Luz, Amity, Anne, and Maggie go underneath a table. Adora, Catra, Bubblegum, Marceline, Keith, and Lance hold onto a stairwell railing. Blubs, Durland, Reeve, and Adam make a quick decision and tell the rest of the contestants to hold hands to make a human chain so they can go from one to the other holding the wall with their palms]

Deb: Hyper Speed in 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1. Go time!!!

[[Deb presses the button to activate Hyper Speed]]

Deb**: Attention Contestants, Hyper speed is now over, you can go back to whatever you were doing.

Adam: What was earth was that?

Steve: That right there was Hyper speed Protocol, We use it to get to your Worlds Quick and Easy, Now hop up and dust yourselves off as you will be in competition in a few minutes,

Bubblegum: but where even are we, do you even know where we landed?

Ariana: We landed in Echo Creek California, the sight of the first event you guys will be doing, Now everyone get off the ship, we're going to the beach.

[Jackie and Chloe scream as they were shocked to hear that they were back in Echo Creek Following them joining the games days prior]

[Everyone was about to get off but then Ariana calls out Charlie and Vaggie's name]

Ariana: Hey Charlie and Vaggie, you got a second?

Charlie: Um. Sure we got a second.

Vaggie: So what do you need?

Ariana: Well, you know how you two are from Hell and are Demons.

Charlie: Yeah, and that's a Problem?

Ariana: No, I'm just trying to find out if you have any demons or devils that are looking for you, you don't have any do you?

Charlie: Oh don't worry, we're perfectly fine, I don't think any demon is going to come to a different dimension to attack us.

At Stolas Manson Located in Hell

[Inside the Manson an owl-like demon is sitting down in a dark room sobbing and crying down at his bowl of cereal

Stolas: Stolas you idiot, why couldn't I control my hormones, I messed everything up he said.

[[Stolas walks over to the TV Room while being wrapped in a blanket; he starts to flip tv channels]]

Stolas: Let's see, Real housewives of Hell, no, demon sex in the city, no, Imp love Island, no, Ugh there's nothing good to watch.

[[Stolas turns the channel to see the city news with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench]]

Katie Killjoy: in other news, Charlotte, The Princess of the head honcho, and her one-eyed Girlfriend Vagatha are making history for people of the underworld, The two are currently in a cross-dimensional game show where whoever wins will receive a shiny silver Trophy and two thousand dollars. 

Stolas: that's it, I know what I'll do to fix my problems, I'll steal that trophy and give it to blitz, then I can apologize and we get our relationship back on track, the only problem is that I got to wait until there fewer contestants, but when that happens, I will strike, and I will score!

_Echo Creek Beach_**

[The Contestants are standing on the beach as they wait for Ariana to show up]

Benson: Um, have anyone seen where Ariana Went?

Poison Ivy: I Don't know where she went but she better hurry up, It's hot as hell right now!

Lance: Man, if I knew we were going to Be in the Hot Sun I would have brought sunblock

Ariana: Guys over here!

[Ariana arrives on the beach along with the Q-force carrying heavy duffle bags]

Enid: got all that Ariana?

Ariana: Oh yeah, just needed extra help to get them off the ship, that's all.

Amity: What's in them?

Ariana: You will find out.

Luna: is it Guitars?

Ariana: No

Jackie: Surfboards?

Ariana: Nope

Keith: Weapons?

Ariana: No, well yes, but not harmful ones

Steve: They're Paint Guns.

[Players: Paints Guns!]

Ariana: And thank you Steve for spoiling the Surprise.

Steve: Sorry.

Poison Ivy: So, what are we using the paintball guns for, target practice, standoff, tournament?

Ariana: neither today you will be competing in an all-out, every team for themselves, paintball war!

Lance: Oh yeah! now we're talking!

Adora: how do win?

Ariana: easy, you must beat the other teams by covering their body in paint, the head, the chest, the arms, and the legs.

Alexander: do the paintballs hurt?

Ariana: Oh they hurt, like a lot, that's why I'm giving you transparent armor, a shield, and some glasses, so I can still see the paint on your body while having you being protected from paintballs, oh, don't worry about getting shot in the start, the guns, are on the other side of the beach

Marceline: Sweet!

Catra: Um, Ariana, what do we get if we win?

Ariana: If you win, you and your partner will get a romantic dinner service

Benson: Sweet!

Ariana: Ok suit up, and be on the beach

[[The Contestants put on their clear transparent armor and then grabbed their shields and finally get set up at the start]]

Ariana: OK Contestants, are you ready to make history!!!

Contestants: Yes we are!!!!

Ariana: Ok, on my signal, Reagan will fire this flare gun, and then, It's Pride Time!!! ready Reagan?

Reagan: You bet Eversley!

Ariana: Ok Contestants... On Your Marks... Get Set... Go!!!

[[All the contestants started running farther down the beach as they each picked their paint guns]]

Ariana: And the contestants are off and the key here guys, is to get the paint in the gun quickly so you can strategize with your partner 

Steve: I hear you Ariana, but remember, some of these guys aren't experienced enough when it comes to combat, so defense is their number one priority!

[[The Contestants head back to the start and load the paintballs into their guns]]]

Twink: And the balls are in the guns!!!

Ariana: Now let’s see how interesting things get!

Terry: Dang it!!! Where's the trigger

Greg: Oh c’mon!!!, It should be on the side

Terry: I'm looking for it!!!

[[All of sudden, Greg and Terry are covered from head to toe in paint, courtesy of Catra and Adora]]

Catra: Sorry Boys, Got to be prepared

Ariana: And Just Like That, Terry and Greg are eliminated, but they have a chance to stay alive in the games, that if they can beat the 19th place team later on!

[Meanwhile, Luz and Amity are in the middle of the action, using their shields to block Paint from every direction]]

Amity: Uh, Luz, what's the plan here?

Luz: Don't know, I've held a wand and broom before, but not a flipping gun!!!

Amity: Well, maybe we can run along the sand and I use the shield while you use the guns, and together, we might be able to...

[[Before Amity can finish her sentence, she and Luz hear the screams of Harley and Ivy, behind them, and from there, Harley and Ivy go completely ham on both Luz and Amity, sending them crashing into the beach, Covering them in Sand and Paint]]

Ariana: Holy cow, and just like that, in shocking fashion, the favorites, Luz and Amity, are out of the paintball war!

Poison Ivy: That's karma for embarrassing us at the Red Carpet Special!!!

Harley Quinn: Next time, maybe think twice before doing that again!!

[[Luz and Amity get up and head out of the battle square]]

Luz: Geez, what did we do to those two?

Amity: I don't know, but we got to focus on beating Terry and Greg, otherwise, we're done with the game show, and we can't have that!

Luz: Don't worry, we got this

[[Back in the Battle Square, Mathew and Jay are cowardly in fear, using their shields and hands to block themselves from paintballs]]

Jay: Matt, I'm scared right now

Matthew: Alright look, if we look around, we won't get eliminated!

Jay: Alright, Hey look to the side of you, those too old dudes, Odval and Sorcerio, they totally lost, let's blast them!!!

Matthew: let's!!!

[[Matthew and Jay take charge as they blast their guns in the direction of Odval and Sorcerio, eliminating them]]

Ariana:**** And Orval and Sorcerio are out!

Odval: dang it!

Matthew: Yes, that was awesome Jay!!

Jay: you know it was!!

[[Matthew and were about lock lips, but then get eliminated by Troy and Benson]]

Troy: Yes, Score!!!'

Ariana: And Troy and Benson eliminate Jay and Matthew 

Matthew: No!!!!!

Benson: Nice Shot babe:

Troy: Thank you, you weren't bad yourself babe

Benson: Troy, Behind you!!!

[[Raj and Shawn try to launch a sneak attack on Troy and Benson, but Benson uses his shield while Troy spins out from behind and eliminates Raj and Shawn]]

Steve: And that's back-to-back elimination for Benson and Troy, 5 teams down, 15 remaining!

Stat: let's go and hurry it up, I got stuff to do!

Reagan: I would like to do stuff with you!

[[The Whole Crew looks at Reagan with a Confused look on their faces]]

Stat: Um... What Was That?

Reagan: I said I can't wait to get some food 

Stat: No, That's not what you said

Ariana: Guys, We'll talk about it later, Look, Anne and Maggie!

[[Anne and Maggie are defending themselves with the shields, and try to hit the contestants, first, they attempted to hit Luna and Sam, but miss, then they tried to hit Terry and Alexander, but miss again, and finally, they try to hit Marceline and Bubblegum but miss for the third straight time]]

Maggie: Boonchuy, what the heck, I thought you were good with combat!

Anne: I am, with a tennis Racket or sword, not a gun!

Maggie: Well figure it out!!!

Anne: I am figuring it out, you don't need to get all angry at me for....

[[Before Anne could finish, Harley and Ivy hit paintballs at the back of Anne, causing her to hit the sand on her face]]

Harley: Take that Swamp Girl!!!

[[Anne all of a sudden gets up and flashes her eyes blue, she grows a very pissed off look on her face]]

Maggie: Boonchuy, you ok? what's going on with you?

[Anne goes on a complete paintball spree, shooting paintballs at Harley and Ivy, Reeve and Adam, Jackie and Chloe, and Ryan and Mingi and eliminating them all within seconds

Ariana: Well, damn, Um.... Don't know where that came from, but we are now down to 11 teams left:

[[Anne's power eyes quickly fade, and she passes out on the floor with her back on the sand, Catra and Adora quickly take advantage and eliminate Anne and Maggie]]

Ariana: Alright Ten Teams, let's see what happens down the stretch!

[[Luna and Sam  decide to use their musical talent to good use, as they unleash a spinning tip toe shot that shot paintballs 360 around the battle square, and they hit Charlie and Vaggie, putting them in 10th]]

Charlie: Good shot Luna!

Luna: Thanks Demon Dudette!

Sam: Luna, Keith, and Lance at 12 O'Clock!!!

[[Luna, Rolls to the left and grabs Sam's hand and Pulls her out of the way, and fires paintballs at Lance and Keith]]

Ariana: And Just look at that, Luna and Sam are surprising everyone, eliminating two-tier teams back to back!

Luna: Sam: We're nailing this!!!

Sam: I Know, It's better than the last time we played laser tag!!

Luna: C’mon, we got to stay focused!

[[While Running on the Course, Bubblegum and Marceline run into Catra and Adora, they quickly draw their paint guns on each other]]

Adora: Woah there you two, Backup!!!

Marceline: Why don't you back up!!

Catra: No!!! You back up!! do it now or we will shoot our paintballs, right here, right now!!!

Blubs: Ladies, Stand down, You don't need to get threatening on each other!

Catra: What? Can you believe the nerve of this guy!

Marceline: You thinking what I'm thinking?\

Catra: Blast them!!!

[[Catra and Marceline fire their paint guns at Sheriff Blubs and deputy Durland, eliminating the cops from the paintball war]]

Bubblegum: Really?

Catra: Nice teamwork Spooky!

Marceline: Well, thank you!

Catra: Your Welcome, Now hold still while I eliminate you!

Marceline: What?

[[Catra quickly fires Paintballs at Marceline and Bubblegum]]

Ariana: And Bubblegum and Marceline are out, 6 teams left!

Adora: Catra! What are you doing we could have used them as an ally!

Catra: Yeah, but you know me, can't any chances with anyone!

[[Terry and Alexander try to keep shooting the other 5 teams, but keep missing, they hide behind their shields and try to come up with a plan]]

Alexander: Terry, what do we do?

Terry: ...

Alexander: Terry, you know I love you, But I'm going to need you to talk, give me something! A hand gesture, anything!!!

[[Alexander waited for a response, but it was too late, as Troy and Benson shot the shield out of their hands and eliminated Alexander and Terry]]

Ariana: Alexander and Terry are out, we are down to our 5 final teams, Luna and Sam, Catra and Adora, Korra and Asami, Troy and Benson, and Enid and Red Action!

Enid: Alright Red, We're in the final 5, don't get distracted and we got this!!!

Red Action: Got It Enid!

Enid: Troy and Benson coming in from the right!

Red Action: I'm on it!!

[[Red Action takes enid paintball and uses two paintball guns at the same, she blasted Troy and Benson with Paint, Eliminating them]]

Enid: Woah, Nice shooting there Red!

Red Action: Thanks Enid!

[[Korra and Asami try to seize the opportunity to get into the top 3, but Enid and Red duck away at the last second, they quickly get up and fire paintballs at Korra and Asami]]

Ariana: Alright, we're down to our top three, Luna and Sam, Enid and Red Action, And Adora and Catra!!

Kelsey: Ah this is gonna be good!!! Two groups of shooters and some underdogs!!!

Enid: Hope you four are ready Because we're not going down that easily!

Red Action: You might wanna quit now, but we're winning this event, Right now!!!

Catra: Oh yeah? We'll just see about that!

Luna: Bring on the Competitive fire Dudes, That just fuels our chances of winning

Adora: You know what, enough talk, let's go!!!

[[The three teams start to run around and shoot each other with their paint guns! they each dodge with their shields and their adrenaline]]

Sam: Luna, how do we do this?

Luna: just follow my lead!

[[Luna and Sam try to land multiple shots at Catra, Adora, Enid, and Red, but their too smart and well prepared, Enid and Red fire their paintballs and eliminate Luna and Sam]]

Ariana: And there we go, after a shocking effort, Luna and Sam are eliminated from the paintball battle, Enid, Red, Catra, Adora, Come with me!

Red Action: Luna, Sam, come over here for a second!

Enid: Girls look at me, you have no right to be disappointed with your finish, you worked hard and got to the final three, heck of a job!

Luna: Thank you!

Sam: Good luck!

[[Luna and Sam walk out of the battle square, but get a standing ovation from the other competitors]]

Ariana: Alright, It's time for the most important battle of all, The Winner Draw battle and the loser draw battle, Here is how it's going to work  I'm placing these targets on your chest, if you turn around and the paintball hit one of the teammate's targets, your team loses, Now, let's start with the losers, Luz, Amity, Terry, and Greg, You first!

[[The Q force places small wooden targets on the chest of Luz, Amity, Greg, and Terry]]

Ariana: Alright in Position, paint guns ready

Luz: You Ready Amity?

Amity: Ready as I'll ever be

Terry: Greg, if you screw this up, we're done!!

Greg: Good, I hope we lost then!

[[Luz, Amity, Greg, and Terry stand in front of each, looking the other way, with their paint guns in hand]]

Ariana: On your marks..... Get set..... Fire!!!

[[the two teams turn around and quickly fire their paint guns at each other]]

Ariana: Alright, Let's see what happened

[[Ariana goes up to the two teams and examines their targets, she looks at Luz and  Amity, and sees nothing on their body]]

Ariana: Luz and Amity, you're good!

Luz: Phew, that's a relief!

Ariana: Alright Terry and Greg, your turn!!

[[Terry and Greg remove their hands, and Ariana looks shocked]]

Ariana: They're hit, Ladies and Gentleman, your winners of the loser round, and the team that is staying in the Hollywood Starship Games, Luz and Amity!!

Harley: What! are you kidding me!!!

Amity: You better watch your back Harley and Ivy, Because we're coming for you!

Poison Ivy: bring it on then, because we'll be here for days!

Ariana: Greg and Terry, I hate to tell you this, but your journey on the Hollywood Starship Games is over!

Terry: I know, just send us home already!

Ariana: Oh no, I'm not sending you home yet, wait with me tomorrow, I got a special job for you tomorrow

Greg: Um... Ok?

Ariana: Alright, Catra, Adora, Red Action, Enid, It's time!!!

[[Enid and Red Action go up to Catra and Adora and Shake their hands]]

Enid: Good luck to you both

Catra: You too, Game on!!

[[They wait in line, turned around, with their paint guns ready, waiting for Ariana's Signal]]

Ariana: Alright! The last two teams, on your marks.... get set..... Fire!

[[The Two Female Teams Fire their paint guns as the other 18 teams look to see who won]]

Ariana: Alright, let's see who won! Q Force, Tabletop Drumroll, please!

Steve: You got it!

[[Ariana looks at Catra and Adora's target, and she finds paint, but not on the target, but on their stomachs]]

Ariana: They missed!, Enid and Red, show your targets!

[[Enid and Red look at their targets and they quickly take them off and show them to Ariana]]

Ariana: And... They got paint on them, Catra and Ador win the first event!!!

Catra: Yes!!!!!

Adora: We did it! We won!!

Ariana: Congrats to you girls, and the rest of you, you did amazing also, now get back on the ship and head for the showers, before the paint dries!

Contestants: Yes Ariana!

Catra: Hey Adora, I believe we have a dinner date tonight, don't we?

Adora: Why yes we do!, Now Come on, My Pretty Kitty!

Catra: Oh shut up you!!!

[[While everyone starts heading back to the ship, Anne wakes up from being unconscious from her rage episode a few hours ago]]

Maggie: Boonchuy, You're up!

Anne: Ow, My Head, what happened?

Maggie: We lost the first event, now let’s go inside the ship and take you to the medical center!

[[In a castle in another world, a newt like creature is in a room, sitting on a throne]]

King Andrius: You know your mission, my little soldier, Fine Anne Boonchuy, and bring her to me, so I can rule this kingdom, the right way!!!

**Darcy: **Anything for You, My King!!!

******To be Continued*******

------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 Results

1st: Catra and Adora

2nd: Enid and Red Action

3rd: Luna and Sam

4th: Korra and Asami

5th: Troy and Benson

6th: Terry and Alexander

7th: Marceline and Bubblegum

8th: Blubs and Durland

9th: Lance and Keith

10th: Charlie and Vaggie

11th: Anne and Maggie

12th: Mingi and Ryan

13th: Jackie and Chloe

14th: Reeve and Adam

15th: Harley and Ivy

16th: Raj and Shawn

17th: Matthew and Jay

18th: Orval and Sorcerio

19th: Luz and Amity

[thegodshavehorns]

The Weakest, of the Gods (1/3)

Chapter 1: Neverland

You always thought you were, kind of, the weakest of the gods. Not because Breath is like, a shitty aspect, but more because you never really went that high up the god tiers, and Pages are like, supposed to have further to go, than most.

You don’t mind that much, though. You don’t need lots of flashy powers to enjoy life.

You wander. You fly. You sometimes accidentally run into other gods, or hear them calling your name from afar. You rarely answer them. Generally speaking, other trolls have not been kind to you, and you much prefer the company of beasts. Just because you all turned into  immortal gods with robes and wings and shiznasty powers, doesn't change that basic fact.

You don’t hang around the aliens much, either. You might stumble upon some accidentally, if they’re in that span of time between when they start talking, and when they start building cities. But you don’t stick around long. After locals spot you, they tend to say your name, for thousands of years afterward. It’s a little annoying.

So, you find worlds of animals. Worlds upon worlds where only animals walk, where nobody splits the air with speech. You’re not all that lonely. You tell yourself you’re happy.

(You can hear Eridan calling your name sometimes. You don’t ever say his.)

You are reclining under a tree in the moonlight on a vast savannah, listening to chirping night-critters, writing beat poetry, in your head, to their songs. Then you see the lights, moving above.

A spaceship.

You are not afraid, but you are cautious, and disappointed. You’d rather that a star-faring civilization not colonize this world. It’s always a pain, to have to find a new planet to live.

The starship comes to ground like a massive, bloated whale, and you know, even before it lands, that it’s not a regular alien ship. It’s  bedecked all over in banners and streamers and flags. Those sorts of decorations, you’re pretty sure, don’t usually survive on spaceships. They burn up.

And you recognize the sigil, on the banners. The aspect of Rage.

You haven’t seen Gamzee in, well, probably eons, but you don’t really keep track of time anymore. He stopped calling your name, after only a few years, when you first split off from the rest.

You’re pretty sure, he doesn’t miss you, anymore.

You’re not sure, if you ever missed him.

Aliens are coming out of the spaceship now, opening up the sides. There are all sorts of different aliens, many you’ve never seen before, of all colors and shapes, working fast.

The spaceship unfolds like an intricate paper sculpture, inflating into a tremendously giant tent, hundreds of feet wide. There’s a carpet rolling out along the ground, and out of the tent steps–

Whoa, he’s tall.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You all can basically look however you want, now, within trollish reason. Like, you can have working legs, when you want, which you usually do. Also, you can look more like an adult, if you want, but you usually don’t like to. You like the way you feel, when you look young.

But Gamzee must be, eight feet tall, at least, not counting the horns. He’s wearing a black and purple vest and a fancy coat, striped pants and heavy boots. You can’t see his face clearly from under your tree, but you’re certain he’s still wearing his subjugglator paint.

You should go greet him, right? Maybe you can convince him to leave this planet alone, for whatever it is he’s doing. But he’s all dressed up and you’re basically just wearing your god-hood. You quickly try to make yourself presentable, dredging an old hat with a feather in it out of your sylladex, even though the green clashes. You wish you had some real pants.

You feel kind of silly, for being nervous. It’s just Gamzee, right?

Gamzee is talking with one of the aliens, but he looks up as you approach. And yes, it’s still Gamzee, he still has that lazy, satisfied expression, though his purple eyes have a degree of intensity you don’t remember being there before.

“Tavros,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your horns vibrate. “And there I thought you’d up and died ages ago, brother. Miracle.”

“Uh,” you reply. “No, I’m alive. I’ve been alive, this whole time. I think.”

“None of us had our knowing on about that there thing what you said.”

You feel a little bad, now. You might have told them you were alive, at least. When you speak, your tone is a little defensive. “I’ve been, exploring. And, communing with the animals. It’s peaceful, out here. And no one, judges me.”

Gamzee’s painted brows crease, but then he smiles. “Brother, why don’t you come inside? See my ring?”

“Uh, sure?”

You follow him behind a curtain, and into his ship. Inside is a maze of purple shadows, and it smells bitter and musky. You can see aliens of various shapes and sizes running around, through curtains and around mirrors. You can hear distant screaming, or maybe it’s laughing? Maybe it’s applause. The circus music is deafening, and the air is full of smoke. By the time Gamzee and you reach your destination, your eyes are watering.

It’s the very top of the tent, a wide balcony from which Gamzee can look over the rings being set up, and the savannah, your home, stretching to the horizon.

There’s an alien there, its face painted in black and white, and Gamzee waves a hand at it. “fuck off.”

It fucks off.

Gamzee settles himself in a chair, or maybe a throne, facing the balcony. You are amazed at how comfortably he fits there, fits here, now naturally he seems to take up divinity. Not even a moment of hesitation. Every inch a god.

You’re almost envious.

“Lots to do here, brother,” he says. “We meet in a time of miracle and wonder.”

“What are you here to do?” you ask.

“Spread the mirthful word, my brother. Ain’t been a whole planet devoted to the Carnival, not yet.” He smiles lazily, and maybe there are a few more teeth in the grin, this time. “High time for there to getting been done.”

“The whole planet?” You can’t keep the surprise from your voice. “Not just, like, one city?”

“Naw, brother, got to think bigger than that. Nothing but tents and rings and sideshows and freaks, far as your motherfucking ganderbulbs can see and then more.” Gamzee gestures towards the edge of the balcony. Then, he looks back at you, folding his long arms and relaxing against the back of his throne.

“But enough all and about me, my invertebro! What is all up and happening with you?”

“Gamzee, I… That’s all, very nice, and all, but I’m not sure that’s all, a good idea? Turning the planet, into one big, um, circus?”

Gamzee frowns, and, for a moment, narrows his eyes at you. You take a step back.

Then, he’s smiling again. “Brother I know we ain’t got our squawk on in millions of sweeps and all, so you don’t got it in your pan that I got my motherfucking understand on what all this is about you dig?”

“W-what?”

“Rage, brother. You even know what Rage is all about?”

“Not, um, really. I mean, I know it means, being angry, but it’s probably more than that, because Breath is about more than, you know, breathing.”

“What’s Breath about?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I want you to get me all up in the schoolfeeding, Tavbro. What’s your motherfucking aspect all getting itself about?”

Breath… you know what it is. You know it in your core, like the sigil has been branded into your thinkpan, which is probably has, now that you think of it. Breath is freedom. Unfetteredness. The feeling of responsibilities being shed, of being light as air, of being held accountable for nothing.

You think you’ve done a pretty good job of being Breath.

“Freedom?” you say, eventually, uncertainly. “Breath is freedom?”

Gamzee laughs. You don’t see what is so funny.

“Aw, brother, I’m all about that too!”

“Huh?”

Gamzee leans forward, and his voice quiets. “Rage, brother. Rage is the hole what’s left when freedom’s gone. Rage is the thing in your thinkpan that makes you stop. Makes you hesitate. And I kill that. I MOTHERFUCKING KILL THAT!”

You jump at the change in volume, then feel immediately sheepish.

“Aw, Tavbro, didn't mean to scare you. It’s all good and miraculous that every single one of my motherfucking followers has all their Rage gone. Would be a better motherfucking world if everyone just said what’s on their motherfucking mind and did what they motherfucking wanted. Freedom. Brother, don’t you agree?”

You swallow. “Uh, I’m not sure I understand. I thought you were a, Bard? You don’t destroy, directly, right?”

He shakes his head. “Naw, brother. But it goes and shrivels and dies all on its own. Here, I’ll up and show you.”

He rises and walks to the edge of the balcony, looking out over the savannah. The animals here have never seen aliens before. They only look up curiously, they don't run, as Gamzee’s followers set up the circus.

He points. “See that motherfucker over there?” You go up and look. It’s one of Gamzee’s followers, a funny looking red alien with four arms. “He’s been wanting to do something but ain’t letting himself do it. And that ain’t no way to be thinking in my Carnival.”

Gamzee looks at you, and smiles, mouth friendly and eyes hard. “Don’t want none of that in my Carnival, brother.”

The red alien, who had been focused on erecting a large pole, turns to a brown furry alien next to him. And without hesitating a moment, he reaches up and rips out the furry alien’s eye.

And eats it.

You don’t watch the rest.

“I think that’s kind of sick,” you manage to say, eventually. “Did you, make him, do that?”

Gamzee actually looks confused. “It’s freedom, brother. It’s only what he wanted all and up to do, all in real life like.”

He must see the distress in your expression, because he then follows that up with: “We do the same thing, Tavbro. You and me.”

“No, I,” you don’t know what to say. He’s going to make your planet (you can’t help but think of it as yours), your whole planet, be like that? Without restraint or empathy or kindness? “I don’t think it’s the same thing at all.”

Gamzee frowns, then just as quickly smiles again. “Sure thing bro. We don’t gotta work together, though it’d all make me as happy as motherfuck if we up and did.”

He turns to look at the view again. “You can still up and stay if you wanna get your watch on, my brother. Or go on chilling with the birds and bees if that’s what speaks to you and all.”

“Gamzee,” you say, after a moment. “Can you, um. Use a different planet, maybe? I kind of, like this one?”

He looks at you, sidelong, and says nothing.

“Like, I like it, how it is? Not made into… a carnival…” You trail off.

“This is a good planet for a Carnival, bro. Not like you were up and using it.”

“Gamzee, I don’t.... I was kind of, living here-”

“IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WROTE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING NAME ON IT!”

Gamzee whirls, and his appearance is transformed. His fangs are bared, expression furious, and the scleras of his eyes blaze more orange than yellow.

“Tavbro, you ran, you can’t claim nothing. NOT MOTHERFUCKING NOTHING. Ain’t even acting a real god, just running around playing like you’re STILL A MOTHERFUCKING KID. This planet is MOTHERFUCKING MINE, brother. Can’t claim NOTHING. And I. Am going. TO DESTROY THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLANET. And there ain’t nothing you’re gonna do about it, are you?”

You sit down. Hard. You are sitting in a four-wheel device. You didn’t realize you still had one. You’re not sure if you can move your legs, actually. Or feel them.

“Didn’t motherfucking think so.”

Gamzee turns, to look back at the Carnival. And you…

You can feel it. The animals. Ripping into each other. Killing mates, killing young, predators going mad, fear-aggression spiking into suicidal terror…

He’s wiping out the whole planet.

Your planet.

By now, your communing abilities are highly developed. You’re more powerful than the Summoner, more powerful than any mortal troll could ever have been.

But when you reach out to get the animals to stop, you can’t. Divine power trumps psionics, it seems.

You have divine power. You are the Page of Breath. But if this is freedom… what can Breath do? You wish you were a Seer. Then you'd know.

But you’re no Seer. Barely even a Page. You’re sitting there, trapped in your chair like a fool. The clown made a fool of you.

For a moment, you think you might hate him. Then you realize, no, you just want to be free of him. You just want-

And that’s when you get it. You really, actually get it.

“Gamzee,” you say slowly. “I think, there might be, two kinds of freedom.”

“What the motherfuck are you talking about?” he rumbles.

“Yeah, there is… there is freedom to. That’s your kind of freedom. But I think my kind of freedom is freedom from. Which is different. So that’s, I think, what I’m going to do.”

You Breathe.

And they are free.

All of them. The animals, the followers. Free of their burdens. They are free now, of Gamzee. They can do what they want to, really want to, and not just reflexively enact their most base impulses.

You can hear cheering, from below. Or maybe screaming. Maybe applause.

“What the fuck did you do!” roars Gamzee, turning on you.

You do not need to be afraid of him. You are free of your fear.

You spread your wings. The chair is gone. Why do you need wheels when you can fly?

“I think, I’m doing, what I need to do,” you say. “Which is, to say, stop you.”

The wind whistles around you, forming a howling cyclone that drowns out the circus music, lifts ship and tent and ring and blows them away like a heap of fallen leaves, and Gamzee is roaring, and laughing, and screaming, and you feel his psionics prickling at the edges of your mind. You summon your lance, and he his clubs, and then –

------

It is the first time, but not the last, you fight another god openly.

It is the first time, but not the last, you truly feel divine.

------

Your planet, at least, dies free.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do- Part II

Based on “Skippy’s List,” I have continued “A List of Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do.”  I hope you enjoy it.  The original can be found here:

https://thelordofdarkreunion.tumblr.com/post/637424500291600384/a-list-of-things-the-scoundrels-are-no-longer

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand.  This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors.  These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.

207.  Expended ammunition is not a business expense.

208.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call requesions officers or quartermasters “sugar daddy.”

209.  There is no “anti-Shepard conspiracy” within the Scoundrels’ fleet.  That’s the Citadel Council’s thing.

210.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to adopt dogs to “sic on the brass.”

211.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pay Revenant to kill people they don’t like.

212.  None of the Scoundrels are The Chosen One.  That was Anakin Skywalker.

213.  It is wrong to fire warning shots at drivers who do not recognize your right of way.

214.  Reading is not “for officers only.”

215.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask anyone who outranks them if they’ve been smoking crack.

216.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn their starship command rooms into throne rooms.  Especially with tacky carpets.

217.  We are not making clones out of any of you.  You are all hard enough to deal with as is.

218.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal any massive, mobile space stations or star fortresses, which include but are not limited to:

- The Rock

-The Phalanx

-The Citadel

-High Charity

-Cloud City

219.  Thomas Drake is not allowed to crash economies “because it’s fun.”

220.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to assign nicknames to anyone.

221.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make chain guns that fire miniature nukes

222.   The weapons specialists of the Apocalypse are no longer allowed to collaborate with the engineers of the Normandy or Enterprise, and Quill is to give up the nuke chain gun.

[I will not!  How can you stop me?  I have a chain gun that fires nukes!]

223.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to wake up superior officers with cymbals

224.  Napalm Sticks to Kids is not a motivational song.

225.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote bastardized versions of Dr. Seuss rhymes on military operations.

226.  Command decisions do not need to be ratified by a ⅔ majority.

227.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to line their helmets with tin foil to “block out the space mind control lasers.”

228.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start any SITREP (Situation Report) with “I recently had an experience I just had to write you about…”

229.  Do not attempt to take the gas masks off of Death Korps troopers.

230.  Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are “casualties of war.”

231.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock command decisions in front of the press.

232.  You should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks you.  Especially if they’re in earshot.

233.  You cannot arrest children for being rude.

234.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create new, made-up government forms, then insist they be filled out.

235.  No one is allowed to perform “lap dances” in uniform.

236.  Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.

237.  Cain is technically allowed to kill any of you if he finds reason to, so stop pissing him off.

238.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to defect to other military service branches during training missions.

239.  Your race is not “other” on official documents.

240.  There is no Scoundrels ethics committee.  And if there was, Thomas Drake would not be chairman.

241.  Chainsaws are not the answer to every question.  Nor is “more chainsaws.”  Or “chainsaw cannons.”  Except for that one time, and yes, it was awesome.

242.  Stop posting classified information on social media.

243.  Adam Vir is no longer allowed to play “Hippocratic Oath chicken” with Dr. Kril.

244.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cook nerve gas in the sink.

245.  There is no “annoy” setting on a phaser.

246.  A wet towel is not an improvised weapon.  Unless you’re Master Chief.  There’s a reason the Covenant calls him “The Demon.”

247.  I know you all have passes, but if the gun can’t fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn’t go on the plane.

248.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download Internet Explorer into the Geth hivemind or the Martian noosphere.

249.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to demand payment in liquor, backrubs, or bubble wrap.

250.  Any Exterminatus-grade weapon is not “my little friend.”

251.  Airlocks do not double as waste disposals.

252.  No member of the Scoundrels or their crews are a pagan god or goddess of fertility.

253.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to learn profanities in any language that can bend reality.

254.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal their own souls.

255.  There is not a Space Marine Chapter whose heraldry is a smiley face.

256.  The following weapons are no longer allowed as dueling choices: steamrollers, nerve gas, land mines, or heavy artillery.

257.  Shepard is no longer allowed to drive or pilot anything.

258.  Han Solo is no longer allowed to attempt any piloting maneuver in which the original inventor was killed doing.

259.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play The Only Thing They Fear is You every time a super soldier enters the battlefield.

260.  In formal introductions to nobility, you are not allowed to introduce your companions as “the other guys.”

261.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to monologue.

262.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.

263.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get telepaths to hurry up the speeches of long winded politicians.

264.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying reporters to any organization that could be considered a theocracy.

265.  If a black op requires you to impersonate an employee, you are not allowed to bill the target for overtime.

266.  By definition, chaplains cannot be atheist.

267.  The proper response to the question “Why?” is not “Why not?”

268.  It is assumed that a properly trained Titan Pilot knows what at least one of the buttons in the Titan’s cockpit does, and it is wrong for Cooper to pretend otherwise.

269.  At the end of a high profile assassination mission, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play disco music on the target’s phone.

270.  The Scoundrels cannot hear the soundtrack.

271.  Thermonuclear hand grenades do not exist, and the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and make them.

272.  I assure all of the Scoundrels with absolute certainty that Ralph is not a traditional Japanese name.

273.  None of the Scoundrels are from Margaritaville.

274.  Hawaiian shirts are not part of any of our governments’ formal uniforms.

275.  Master Chief is not allowed to record Gravemind ASMR.

276.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to write tell-all books about anything.

277.  “Legends never die!” is not a valid excuse.

278.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to think of new, creative, or fun uses for cursed artifacts.

279.  Check the door means listen to see if there’s any activity on the other side, not put multiple rounds through it.

280.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give wasabi to unsuspecting aliens.

281.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to do anything they saw Jackie Chan do.

282.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to implement any battle plan that includes the words “and hope they miss a lot.”

283.  There is an upper limit to the number of people a bullet can go through.

284.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unionize the Unggoy.

285.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hack forge world PA systems so they only play Allentown.

286.  Sarcasm is wasted on Imperial Stormtroopers.

287.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to upload porn to the HUDs of their commanding officers.

288.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download porn from the HUDs of their commanding officers.

289.  No matter how tough the battle, the Scoundrels are to keep the congratulatory ass-slapping to a minimum.

290.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to invade Germany on August 31, 1939 and thus secure Belgian dominion over Europe.

291.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to Tokyo drift tanks

292.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “catch air” in military vehicles.

293.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send anything to the past, future, or alternate dimensions.

294.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount speakers on tanks to play Ghost Division as they drive into battle.

295.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to post memetic hazards on the internet.

296.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bind eldritch dieties to their will and make them mow the lawn.

297.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to load weapons with all tracer rounds

298.  If your personal weapon can be read with a Geiger counter, you aren’t allowed to have it.

299.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn Khornite daemon worlds into self supporting blood banks.

300.  “Pimp my Death Star” is not a real show, and we are not bringing Grand Moff Tarkin back from the dead to host it.

301.  Prussian Glory March is not a disco song.

302.  We know that Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, but no matter how high profile or how close a friend, the Scoundrels are not allowed to ask Cerberus, the Adeptus Mechanicus, or, god forbid, Fabius Bile to bring anyone or anything back from the dead.

303.  Any weapon that can be set to “flay” is strictly forbidden.

304.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the Oompa Loompa song every time someone annoying dies.

305.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to store squeeze tubes of explosive putty in medicine cabinets.

306.  On most planets, shoulder holsters are frowned upon as casual attire.

307.  Zero body count does not mean just the ones they can find.

308.  Walmart is not a one stop shopping place for hunting demons.

309.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play football/soccer with AT-ST or Sentinel walkers.

310.  None of you are currently parents, but if you ever become one, Trazyn the Infinite is not to be named your child’s godfather.

311.  You know what, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to name any of the following as godparents of any potential children:

-The God-Emperor of Mankind

- Emperor Palpatine

- Councilor Sparatus

- Leman Russ [Bjorn said it was OK so fuck you.]

- Kahless the Unforgettable

- Kuben Blisk

- Kharn the Betrayer

312.  Searching a building means entering it, not leveling it with artillery and digging through the rubble.

313.  FedEx does not deliver to Tatooine.

314.  None of the Scoundrels are allowed to single-handedly make Starfleet Academy the number one party school in the universe.

315.  Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

316.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a dance-off to the death.

317.  Kirk, rifts in the time-space continuum are not for your personal amusement.

318.  Blowing up the top twenty floors of a building is not a “diversion.”

319.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to convince Sith Lords to use Force lighting on their welding projects.

320.  Canadian is not a real language, and you can’t set your translators to it.

321.  There is no such thing as a were-saxophonist.

322.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel that starship windows can be rolled down.

323.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start wars between major weapons corporations, especially “because I’m bored.”

324.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to clear enemy underground bunker complexes just using Bangalore torpedoes.

325.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to order a lance of Imperial Knights to perform synchronized dance numbers.

326.  The Scoundrels are to leave out human mating rituals when presenting cultural exchanges to alien ambassadors.

327.  When raiding enemy corporations or terrorist organizations, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to look at the target’s HR files to see if they have better benefits.

328.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to collect autographs.

329.  Any buttocks belonging to the Scoundrels or any of their crews are permanently forbidden from making contact with any copy machine.

330.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go FTL to avoid red lights.

331.  “Just throw them out the airlock” is not a backup first contact protocol.

332.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to fill enemy starships with jello.

333.  None of the Scoundrels are the patron saints of large explosions.

334.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make, accept, or take rake-offs on bets concerning X-class end-of-the-universe scenarios.

335.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go on PA systems and announce they just won The Game.  Goddammit.

336. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trick Captain Marvel and Cato Sicarius any superheroes or super soldiers they deem “annoying” into fighting each other.

337.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell tickets to or organize cage matches between prominent super soldiers.

338.  Lockpicking and door breaching are two entirely different things.

339.  Performing obscene acts while in the cockpit of or piloting large combat mechs is strictly prohibited.

340.  Freeing slaves out of justice is good.  Out of spite, not so much.

341.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to compose offensive emails during stealth operations on the target CEO’s email and subsequently CC the entire company.

342.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to recreate the Charge of the Light Brigade with the Death Riders of Krieg.

343.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to get out of speeding tickets.

344.  The state-controlled news service of the Imperium of Man most definitely does not have a liberal bias.

345.  Likewise, the state-controlled news service of the United Federation of Planets does not have a conservative bias.

346.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap Ewoks or Volus and put them in hamster wheels.

347.  Adam Vir is to, by order of Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels, return the Watchers in the Dark he took from The Rock as pets.

348.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to spend the entirety of their bonus pay on lottery tickets.

349.  The very concept of a Hutt lap dancer will earn a surprise visit from the Deathwatch.

350.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use grenade launchers to play bocce ball.

351.  If you are unsure of which side of the road you are supposed to drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

352.  No matter how cool it would be, the Scoundrels are not allowed to use any time machine to loan General Eisenhower a squadron of X-wings for D-Day.

353.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to program medical droids for “aggressive dentistry.” 

354.  The Scoundrels are to stop trying to get a reality TV show based on themselves.

355.  Garrus Valkarian is not “on loan” to the Vindicare Temple to improve either his or their sniping skills.

356.  Pointing out a massive plothole in any bad guy’s plan will not stop them from attacking you.

357.  Preliminary nuclear bombardment is not automatically Plan A.

358.  Maverick and Tope are not tax exempt for being chaplains. 

359.  Thomas Drake is to stop teaching classes to the rest of the Scoundrels on tax evasion.

360.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refit tanks with jump jets.

361.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create their own currencies.

362.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to set Jawas on fire with a massive magnifying glass.

363.  The Stanley Cup does not have the same power as the Holy Grail.  Not even on Canadians.

364.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to steal the Stanley Cup.

365.   The Eldar really hate it when you greet them with “Live long and prosper.”

366.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give pre-teen children their phone numbers, especially when they are on black ops.

367.  You cannot partake in the sport of fencing with a broadsword.

368.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to switch nationalities or service branches for tax purposes.

369. None of the Scoundrels are “He who must not be named only in passing.”

370.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to shoot at natural disasters.

Well, there it is.  I hope you enjoyed it, and if you would like to add to the list, feel free!  

[supernatural-jackles]

Owe You One - Part 1

Title: Owe You One - Here’s the Deal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,290

Warnings: Bad Sex, Fluff, Playful Banter, Smut, Female and Male Receiving, Bit of a consent kink, 18+ only.

Summary:  Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Square Filled: Neighbors!AU for @spndeanbingo​, Free Space for @spnkinkbingo​

A/N: It’s finally here!! I’m very excited to take you on this rollercoaster ride! Please leave your thoughts in the reblogs and replies! Feedback always keeps me going! Happy Reading! 

 “Fuck! I’m gonna come!” he called out, bucking his hips up into yours. You rolled off of him, taking the empty side of the bed as ripped the condom off, stroking his hard length. He rolled over, getting onto his knees so he could finish himself off on your body.

 The sticky liquid coated your stomach as he let out a loud grunt, still stroking his cock. One of his hands came down next to you, trying to balance himself as pleasure zapped through him. You lay there, trying not to utter a word about it. Did he really have to be that extra about it? Did he really have to rip the condom off and coat your skin in his - stuff?

 “Damn, you are something else baby,” he let out a chuckle. “I mean really something. Did you come?”

 “If you had to ask, then the answer is no,” you scoffed, rolling off the bed, completely unsatisfied. “Look, I’ve got things to do so you gotta go.”

 “Sure thing, baby. Can I call you later?” he grinned, looking over to you.

 “If you want to,” you said lowly, making your way into the bathroom. You heard movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like his jeans being put back on. You willed him to move faster. You wanted him out of your apartment. Nothing like shitty sex and a guy that lingered. You had no idea why you even tried with this one. He was as stupid as they came. Carl, or Keith? You couldn’t remember what his name was. You met him in a diner a few weeks back. He took you on one date, and fucked you the rest of the time. He wasn’t a good lay, and he was selfish as hell on top of that. There was nothing worse than that.

 You heard the front door shut with a click, notifying you that it was safe to leave the bathroom when you were ready to. You felt dirty and not just from sex. His hands were on you and they definitely weren’t the cleanest. You headed over to the shower, turning it on hot. You wanted to wash the gunk feeling off, along with everything else he left. What a waste of your time you thought to yourself. Why were you wasting your time with every guy that came along?

 You stepped under the stream, letting the water hit directly on your stomach. Washing away his finished product. You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to ask you if you came. The man was lazy as hell, and didn’t know the difference between the clitoris and vagina. It was a complete and utter disappointment yet again. You had no idea why you kept him around when all he wanted was sex. He didn’t care whether or not you came, let alone about your life outside of the bedroom. There wasn’t a point in continuing when you weren’t happy with him.

 The hot water lulled over you muscles, relaxing you along with the apple scent of your shampoo. You always felt better after a good shower. No matter what the day held, or what went down. A shower made you feel clean and reduced your worries. There was a part of you that wanted to let your hand wander between your legs, just to finish yourself off. You had done it so often that it was becoming boring. Like a sad routine. You needed something more to get you there. Maybe you needed a new toy to play with.

 You shut the water off, stepping out of the shower and onto the grey carpeted mat. You reached for the blue towel on the counter, wrapping around your body before moving in front of the mirror. The mirror was fogged up, not that you needed it urgently. You felt a lot more refreshed.

 You dried yourself off, pulling on your black robe to cover yourself up until you grabbed actual clothes from your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom for a second, waiting for the mirror to clear up. You knew you had to get something out to cook for dinner before it got too late. It was already late enough.

 Your kitchen smelled of the apple cinnamon scentsy you had plugged in. It was supposed to help you get in the holiday spirit. At least, that was the point of why you put it in your cart when you saw it. It mostly made your apartment smell good. You walked over to the fridge, looking to see the chicken you had picked up at the grocery store the day before. You had some leftover salad to go with it. Enough dinner for tonight.

 You took the chicken out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop for when you got dressed. Three loud knocks at your door pulled out out of your thoughts. You had no idea who it could be at this time. You prayed it wasn’t doucheface showing up again. You weren’t sure you could handle anymore disappointment today.

 You twisted the knob, pulling the door open, only to reveal your next door neighbor standing in the doorway. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he stood in henley with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly.

 “You always answer the door in your robe?” he smirked. “‘Cause if so-”

 “What do you want, Dean?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

 “Mhh what?” he furrowed his brows, clearly getting a good look at you in your black robe.

 “Dean, really?” you raised your eyebrow.

 “Sorry, you’re just,” he pointed at you. “Sorry, I came over to ask you if I could borrow your microwave for a second. Mine broke this morning and I’m trying to heat up my dinner.”

 “Yeah, c’mon in,” you nodded, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. Dean stepped in with a smile.

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been in your apartment and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. You had been neighbors for a little over a year. Eight months ago, he and his long time girlfriend Cassie broke up and he was a mess. You invited him to come over to distract him, and he ended up staying an entire weekend. You binge watched Friends and ate about a gallon of ice cream. That was when the two of you became really good friends.

 Dean was in your apartment at least three times a week, depending on his week that is. Dean was a mechanic at a local garage that he and his dad owned with a few other guys. Most nights he finished around six and dropped by with some food for dinner. Other nights, he was working his other job. He and his younger brother Sam, owned a bar in town called Jefferson’s Starship. Dean named it of course.

 He was a good guy. You got that vibe off of him instantly the day you met him. He helped you carry a few boxes into your apartment, which you needed. When you saw him upset that day he and his girlfriend broke up, you couldn’t stand it. He was a really good friend to you. One of the best actually. You weren’t the best when it came to guys, or friends for that matter. But Dean? Dean was special. There was no one that got you or your sense of humor like he did.

 “I take it Doofy was over,” he teased, nodding once more to your outfit as he opened your microwave door.

 “You really like calling him Doofy, huh?” you shook your head as you made your way over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Yes, he was over.”

 “I heard,” he smirked. “Well, him anyways.”

 “Dean!” you raised your voice, shaking your head once more, trying to hide your smile.

 “We share a wall, sweetheart. Your bedroom, my kitchen. Walls are thin,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his hands on the counter in front of you. “So, let me guess this time. He came and left?”

 “He came, asked if I did, then I asked him to leave,” you corrected him.

 “Ouch,” he said sheepishly. “High and dry. That explains the robe and the wet hair.”

 “How hard is it to pleasure a woman?” you called out. “I genuinely want to know. I haven’t found a single guy who knows the difference between my clit and my vagina, Dean! How hard is it?”

 “Pretty hard if he doesn’t know the difference between buttons,” he let out a laugh.

 “I’m just going to order a new toy off amazon at this rate. It’d get the job done,” you shrugged, feeling defeated.

 “Can I watch?” he joked, opening the microwave door to stir his food. “Oh by the way. I wanted to ask you something which may or may not have been the real reason why I’m here. My microwave isn’t actually broken.”

 “And here I thought you were here to comment on my sex life,” you breathed out, adjusting your robe a little more. “I’m all ears.”

 “So my mom is having a birthday party this year, and they still think I have a girlfriend and invited us. I was kind of, sort of, maybe hoping you’d go with me to keep my family off my back for that anyways,” he said lowly, swirling around his food before shoving it back in for another two minutes.

 “Me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Of all people, me?”

 “You’re the only one I know that I can be myself around. I don’t have to force myself to get along with some random girl in front of my family. You’re one of my closest friends,” he pointed out. “You just have to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night. I swear I’ll repay you.”

 “Will you though?” you side-eyed him playfully. “Look Dean, you really don’t have to. We’re friends and I’m happy to do it.”

 “Really?” he beamed.

 “Yeah, I’ll do it,” you smiled politely. “I’ve met your brother a few times so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

 “I owe you big time, Y/N. You have no idea how much you are saving my ass by doing this,” he breathed out as the microwave beeped at him again. “I have shown up to the last three birthday parties alone and I’m not going through the ‘oh Dean, when are you finally going to settle down’ comment from my cousins, and aunts. Granted I was still dating Cassie last year, but she was away on some journalism trip. Not that they ever showed interest in meeting her. I’d just rather not deal with that again. I’m tired of the comments.”

 “I would say I know the feeling, but I don’t. I’ve been on my own since I was pretty young. I didn’t get along with my mom and it was just the two of us.”  you shared. “You’re making me feel pretty thankful I’m on my own.”

 “Really?” he cocked his eyebrow. “I always thought you got along with your mom?”

 “No. Not even close,” you scoffed.

 “Well, it’s you and me now, girlfriend,” he winked. “I’m serious about repaying you though. You’ll see why when you meet my family. Sammy is the only normal one.”

 “Name your offer, Winchester,” you said, crossing your arms over your body.

 “Uh, let’s see,” he raised his eyebrow, looking up to the left. “I’ll let you drive baby?”

 “Really?” you rolled your eyes. “That buys you handholding and that’s about it.”

 “Oh we’re playing this game now?” he chuckled, opening up your drawer to grab a fork for his dinner before taking a seat at the counter next to you. “Fine. How about - oh - how about I show you that not all guys are clueless when it comes to sex?” he said with a smirk.

 “And how are you going to do that?” you cocked your eyebrow.

 “How do you think, sweetheart?” he wiggled his eyebrows before taking a bite out of his food.

 “You? You’re going to have sex with me?” you asked in confusion.

 “Why not right? I mean, you’re gonna have to kiss me in front of my family. Not that you haven’t dreamed about kissing me,” he pointed out. “And besides, I know the difference between your clit and your pussy, how to pleasure you, and I’m not going to stick it in the wrong hole unless you ask me to.”

 “You said you were never going to bring that up,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?” he grinned. “I’m serious though. I’ll show you a damn good time, and treat you right. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, of course. But I won’t leave the room until I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

 “Dean, are you sure?” you questioned. “I mean, we’ve gotten really personal with each other but this is different. I don’t want to cross any lines here. I’m not putting our friendship at risk here.”

 “I know, but I think we’re both mature enough to handle this. Nothing will ruin our friendship, ” he stated. “‘Sides, you have to know by now that I think you’re hot, and I’d nail you in a second given the chance. Call it practice for my mom’s party.”

 “So if I untie this robe and drop it to the floor, you’d be cool with that?” you played, trying to gage his reaction as you stood up, stepping away from him. His eyes went dark as he froze, watching your every move.

 “More than cool with that,” he muttered.

 You reached for the tie, pulling it loose before opening up your robe. You could feel a lump forming in your throat. No going back now. Dean thought you were hot, you reminded yourself. You let the material fall over your shoulders, and drop to the floor around your feet. Dean swallowed hard, not daring to tear his eyes away from you.

 “Son of a -” he breathed out.  

 “I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” you teased,

 “Oh I’m done,” he stated, getting up from the stool. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

 “Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your voice was confident, but inside, you were dying to cover up and hide away forever. You weren’t gorgeous, or sexy. You weren’t the kind of girl a guy like him fawned over. You found guys like doofy. It was almost like you needed confirmation that he thought you were attractive.

 “Oh god, yeah,” he licked his lips. “Can - can I touch you?”

 “Yes,” you nodded. Your eyes locked with his breathtaking green orbs as he stepped closer. You were expecting his hands to either reach for your breast or your ass. You knew he was going to touch you. He asked and it was to be expected.

 He reached for your hips before slipping his arms around your waist, resting them on the small of your back. That was completely unexpected to say the least. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but there wasn’t the typical I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, lust that everyone else had. You were standing completely naked in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off your face. It was different and you liked that.

 “Seriously, you are fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, leaning in closer to you. You felt his breath mingling with yours. Was he going to kiss you? One of his hands reached up to your cheek, his index finger brushing the wet strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek in his palm. You melted against his touch, just a little as you glanced up into those breathtaking green eyes of his. He inched closer, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, hesitant kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. He was gentle, which is the opposite of what you were expecting from him of all people. If anything, he was making you feel more comfortable. You kissed him back with the same hesitancy he had. You slipped your hands around his back, tugging him closer to you out of instinct.

 “Mhh, we should probably move this into the bedroom,” you muttered against his lips.

 “You got it, sweetheart,” he smirked. His calloused hands slipped down the curve of your ass, reaching the back of your thighs. He lifted you off the ground with ease, earning a tiny yelp from your lips. You giggled as he carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He placed you carefully on the messy bed, letting you adjust yourself so you were comfortable while he stood tall.

 “You’re wearing far too much clothing, Dean,” you smiled up at him. He cast his head down with a smile playing on his plump lips. “Off with the shirt and show me what you’re working with.”

 He took the hem of his henley, tugging it over his head to reveal his upper body. God, he was a fucking sight. You had never seen him shirtless before this. You thought he was hot before this, but you had no idea just how hot he was until he shed some layers. He wasn’t completely toned. He was soft in some places and that only made you want him more. You wanted to trace your tongue over every inch of him.

 “Damn, you’re hot,” you commented as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He didn’t say anything to you. In fact, he looked a little nervous about it. You didn’t want to make a comment about it because this was a hook up and he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were going to let it slide this time and bring it up the next time you had a movie night or something. “Take it all off, baby.”

 “You’re such a dork,” he let out a laugh. You watched as he unbuckled his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down his legs, revealing himself to you for the first time.

 And oh my fucking god, he was perfect.

 He has the nicest looking dick you had ever seen on a man. Big, thick and he kept himself well taken care of down there in terms of grooming. You were actually looking forward to this one. Not just for how hot he was. Dean was a good person, and not to mention a man of his word. You were looking forward to seeing what he had to offer you in terms of owing you one.

 “Dean, you’re-“ you paused. “Fuck.”

 “Like what you see?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

 “Eh,” you giggled. “I’m not on the pill, just so you know. I do have condoms in my drawer though.”

 “Good to know,” he nodded. “Listen, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like and don’t like. By all means, tell me what to do and I’ll listen the best I can. I just want to make you feel good.”

 “The very same goes for you too,” you told him. “I wanna be able to make you come too.”

 “Trust me sweetheart, you are going to have no problems with that,” he assured you. “Now, are you sure you want to do this? I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

 “I’m sure I want to do this,” you confirmed. You smiled at his words. It was nice of him to ask you. He wasn’t forcing you by any means, or making you feel like you had to do this. It was actually really nice of him the more you thought about it.

 He carefully climbed on your bed from the bottom. Your eyes never left his body as he moved up the bed. His muscles flexed as he fit himself between your legs. His body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your inner thigh. He captured his lips with yours almost unexpectedly, pulling your bottom lip between his, sucking down softly.  Your hands traveled down the length of his back. You could feel the arousal pooling in your core. A delicious ache you couldn’t wait to satisfy.

 His hand traced up your torso, his thumb brushing underneath your breast as his lips moved along your jaw, making their way to your neck. You let out a sigh, melting into the mattress beneath you. Your hands slipped into his hair as he kissed his way down to your breasts.

 “F - Dean,” you breathed out. His lips latched around your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over your hardening bud. His touch gave you goosebumps and part of you thought that it was because you hadn’t been touched this extensively in a long time. He was fucking woreshipping you compared to the rest of them. Dean knew exactly where to touch you without a hint of guidance. He ignited something in you that no one had before. Maybe you were going to get an orgasm out of this after all.

 “Feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, kissing along your abdomen as his hands soothed down your sides, filling your stomach with anticipation of what was to come.

 “Damn good,” you panted. Your heart rate was speeding up, and he had barely even done anything to you yet.

 He climbed off of you, taking a spot at the end of your bed. His hand gripped your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he could begin the first real act of the night. He took his time and that was something you enjoyed about him. There was no rush like there usually was for you. His hand trailed along your inner thigh, tickling you in the best way, causing your core to clench around nothing. His soft, wet lips kissed along the opposite side of his hand and that drove you insane. You desperately wanted to feel him directly between your legs.

 “Dean, I swear to god if you don’t -”

 “Don’t what?” he chuckled. “Don’t rush a professional.”

 “Where’s the professional?” you giggled, earning a bitch face from him. “I’m kidding!”

 “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he winked, growing closer to where you needed him. He settled directly between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips. He pushed your legs open a little wider. The anticipation was killing you and he fucking knew it too.

 He inched forward, flattening his tongue against your folds, licking a long slow strip upwards, stopping just before your clit. God, did it feel good. His tongue was warm and wetter somehow. The initial touch sending a wave a pleasure through you. You threw your head back against the mattress, your fist grasping at the comforter. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

 “Fuck,” you whimpered.

 “Feel good?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded, staring up at the ceiling, awaiting his next move. You released the comforter, allowing yourself to relax. Dean did the exact same thing, this time going even slower and reaching your clit, causing you to jerk just a little. He kept up with that for another couple of strokes, and you could feel yourself growing more and more slick as he did.

 He pressed a kiss to your clit as his finger circled around your entrance. Your eyes clamped shut the second his tongue flicked swiftly over your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards, needing more and more of his touch. You could feel him smirking against you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

 He pushed a digit inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. He curled his finger as his lips enclosed around your clit, sucking just enough to drive you insane. You arched your back, needing more of him.

 “De-Dean,” you groaned. “To the left.”

 “Your left or mine?”

 “Mine,” you panted. His tongue flickered over your clit to the left in a repetitive, but unpredictable motion that had your toes curling. Your hand reached for his head, your fingers fisting his hair tugging him in the right direction as he sucked down on you.

 You could feel that familiar burn pooling in your lower abdomen. You knew it was mere moments before Dean worked you into your first orgasm the night. He removed his finger from your center and moved both his hands underneath your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as his tongue worked it’s magic.

 “Fuck Dean, I’m gonna - I’m -” you could barely even get the words out before warm pleasure pulsated through you. You twitched against him, your fingers pulling at his hair to try to keep him in place, and he never let up. He worked your through it, making it last as long as he possibly could.

 He pulled away and you felt lifeless. You had no idea how to even move, let alone breathe. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. You tried to focus on breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

 “Y/N, you alive?” he asked you.

 “I- I think,” you answered, your voice high pitched as your eyes opened, meeting his gorgeous green orbs. “Barely but alive. Just give me a minute after that one. Fuck!”

 “Told you I’m good,” he winked playfully.

 “Oh shut up!” you let out a laugh, rolling onto your side, pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand instinctively reached up to your hip, drawing you into him as he kissed you. God, did this man know how to kiss. He had your toes curling at the thought of continuing like this. But you knew he had other plans for the night, and quite frankly, so did you. “Your turn now, Dean.”

 “You definitely don’t have to do that, Y/N,” he shook his head.

 “I know. I want to. It’s only fair to for one, and two, I really want to taste you,” you played. “You want to move up the bed a little more?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded. You managed to sit up, allowing Dean to lay in the middle of your bed. His hard cock rested against his stomach, and honestly, you couldn’t wait to taste him. You couldn’t wait to feel him on your tongue. Dean positioned himself so he was comfortable, and you gravitated between his legs. It was going to be easier for you to take him this way. You knew there was no way you were going to fit all of him in your mouth, but you were going to try your very best to pleasure him the same way he did you.

 You took his velvety length in your hand, your mouth watering at the sight of him. Dean’s eyes were on you, and somehow, that didn’t make you nervous. You stuck your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock, instantly tasting the salty, almost sweet, precome that pooled at the slit. Dean hissed at the contact and you knew you did something right.

 You moved down to his balls, flattening out your tongue before moving carefully along each one. Then you traced a line up his length, reaching the top, taking the entire head in your mouth. Your eyes flicked up, looking at Dean’s face directly and you could see that he was enjoying what you were doing so far. You sucked down lightly, spit collecting in your mouth as you did so. You released him, using your saliva as lube to slick up his cock, making it easier to pleasure him without worrying about hurting him.

 You took him in your heat, sinking down a little lower this time while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could feel each ridge and vain along your tongue, and damn did he taste good. A taste you wouldn’t mind having more than once if it were up to you.

 “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. His hands made their way into your hair, half holding it back, half kind of tugging. You circled around the tip, running swiftly into the slit before teasing over his frenulum. He let out a loud groan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

 “Y/N-” he cried out as you took him deeper, the tip hitting near the back of your throat as your hand jerked him faster. You sucked down, causing him to moan once more.

 “Y/N - fuck, you gotta stop,” he urged you. You pulled off of him with a pop, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He was panting, his chest heaving. You smiled, knowing you did a good job.

 Dean rolled off to the side, opening up the drawer of your bedside table, grabbing one of the condoms out of the box of twelve. As nervous as you were before, you weren’t now. Not even close. If anything, you were excited to be doing this with Dean. No pressure or unrealistic expectations. He cared whether or not you were enjoying yourself, and you were. But most of all, you were comfortable with Dean. Maybe it was for all of those reasons, or the fact that you had never trusted someone the same way you did your best friend. He wasn’t some random guy you met in a bar or a diner.

 “You sure you want to do this?” he questioned once more, playing with the condom between his index finger and his thumb. “We don’t have to. I can just pay you back some other way if you don’t want to.”

 “Yeah. I want to,” you nodded. “Do you want to?”

 “Yeah,” he said softly, ripping the condom package open. He took the condom out, rolling it down properly over his hard length. You lay down on the bed, opening up your arms for him to climb on top of you. He spread your legs a little wider as he positioned himself between them. You couldn’t wait to feel that stretch when he pushed into you.

 He took his thick cock in his hand, running it swiftly through your folds. You instinctively moved your legs further apart, your eyes meeting his, waiting for him to move. You nodded your head, reassuring him that he could proceed. He smiled softly. The tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. Your hands traced up his arms, settling on his shoulders. He pushed himself gingerly inside of you, stretching your walls more than you expected as they accommodated his length. You took a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shutting as your head pressed to the pillow beneath it.

 Dean positioned his hands on either side of your body. His lips met yours as he bottomed out inside you. His kiss putting you at ease. You wrapped your arms securely around his shoulders and bent your knees to give him more room to begin moving. He felt fucking perfect inside.

 “You good?” he breathed out, trailing his lips along your jaw.

 “Yeah,” you swallowed. “‘M good.”

 He drew his hips back before moving back in at the very same pace. You felt your walls fluttering at the new sensation of him. He felt fucking amazing when he moved. His length hit all the spots you needed him to, and all the spots you didn’t know you needed touched until now. His muscles tensed just a little when he moved, and his lips never left your skin, only added to the overwhelming satisfaction he was already giving you.

 “You have no fucking idea how good you feel around me,” he growled into your neck.

 “If it’s anywhere near how good you feel inside me then I think I know,” you groaned, your hand shifting into his hair, keeping him at the sensitive spot on your neck that drove you crazy. “Keep kissing there.”

 “Curl your fingers in my hair again,” he asked lowly, his hips pushing back into yours.

 His thrusts picked up the pace. You rolled your hips against his in tune with his and that familiar burn made itself known. Your breathing was getting shallower, and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, especially in the places Dean’s skin was touching yours. The heat from him, along with the incredible aura you were creating together; it was bound to get a little hot.

 Dean was panting against your skin, and he had to adjust himself, leaving your neck. He held himself up on his hands once more, his chest abandoning yours. His eyes traveled up and down your body, drinking you in as his cock quivered inside you. You didn’t want this to come to an end. He made you feel so fucking high; like every other emotion didn’t exist. It was just pure euphoria.

 You readjusted yourself, hooking your ankles around his ass, giving him a different angle. He pushed into you and hit your g-spot dead on, you almost came right then. That coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter as he moved. You could feel every dip and ridge of his cock. Your mouth was growing dry as you struggled to breathe.

 “Dean, I’m so close,” you straggled out.

 “Good,” he panted. “Me too. What do you need?”

 “Faster!”

 He picked up his pace, pounding into you. You let out a loud moan and suddenly you were thankful it was only Dean’s apartment next to yours and no one else was next to you. Dean pecked your lips once more, and you could see the drips of sweat beading on his forehead and the top of his freckled dusted nose. His green eyes were damn near black, hooded with lust and pleasure that you had never seen before. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to hear him.

 He hit your sweet spot once more, throwing you over the edge. You arched into him as your fingers dug into the flesh of his back. He collapsed on top of you, and you buried your head in his neck, muffling your cry just a little. Pure ecstasy flowed through you, causing you to shake beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him so tightly, you were afraid he wouldn’t be able to move.

 “Fuck - Y/N, mhh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spilled himself into the condom. He twitched, moving just a little as the waves of his orgasm worked through him. You were shaking, but at the same time, you felt completely lifeless. Like he had fucked every ounce of energy out of you, and in a way, he had.

 He pulled out of you slowly, holding the base of his cock where the condom was. You pointed to the tissues on the nightstand for him to use. He quickly discarded the condom into the trash bin next to your bed before he settled down next to you.

 “Fuck,” he breathed out. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

 “You imagined it?” you let out a chuckle.

 “Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” he let out a laugh. “In all honesty though, it was some good sex.”

 “It was,” you agreed, adjusting your head on your pillow as you glanced up at the ceiling.

 “Did you come?” he laughed.

 “Shut up, asshole,” you shook your head.

 “Oh I know you did,” he teased. “More than once. I’m just that good.”

 “Yeah yeah,” you licked your bottom lip. “You held up your end pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

 “I’m glad,” he smirked. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing my parents we’re together.”

 “Me either,” you breathed out.

 He rolled off the bed, reaching for his boxers on the floor at the end of the bed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he tucked himself back in his boxers. You weren’t expecting him to stay in the slightest. It was a good time and it would’ve been awkward if he did.

 “So where and when for your mom’s party?” you asked, moving the pillow to cover yourself up a little.

 “Saturday night,” he said, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s kind of fancy so you’ll have to wear a dress. I’m wearing a black suit if that helps you at all.”

 “I have a classy black dress that should work,” you nodded.

 “Perfect,” he nodded. “I am really thankful you’re helping me out. I don’t mean to fuck you and run, but I’ve kind of gotta get to the bar.”

 “It’s okay,” you assured him. “Not like we’re together, bestie.”

 “I know, but I like to treat my women better than that when we do something like this,” he frowned.

 “I’m your best friend and I know where you live. Trust me, it’s cool. I’m not really one for cuddling after sex and talking about feelings anyways,” you shrugged. “Thanks for making me come, not once, but twice. You treated me better than any guy. Now get out of my apartment and go to work.”

 “Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “You could always come with?”

 “Nah,” you shook your head. “I’ve got plans with my one true love, Netflix.”

 “Sorry I’m getting in the way of that,” he let out a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

 “That you will, Dean,” you winked. “Thank you for this. You do know how to satisfy a woman.”

 “You’re damn right I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 coming Sunday!

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feedback is the most important thing you can do for a writer! 

[freddiesaysalright]

Blessed Part 2

The Peace Like a River Sequel

Summary: Gwilym and Y/N are married. Violet is six years old. Baby number two is on the way. There are still some shadows that plague Y/N in her marriage to Gwil, and Violet is suddenly resentful of her parents. The Lee family tries to stick together.

Word Count: 2.2k

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @simmisblog​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @readinghorn​, @riddikuluslypotter​, @doingalrightt​, @misslolasworld​, @lemurian-starship​, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80​, @imgonnabeyourslave​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @ixchel-9275​, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867​, @unicorn-princess-1999​, @delilahmay39​, @chlobo6​, @dragon-out-of-water​, @radio-hoo-ha​, @agentmalfoy24601​, @thigh-your-mother-down​, @im-an-adult-ish​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Serious angst in this chapter. We’re dealing with stuff, we’re getting emotionally healthy, y’know?

Haven’t read Peace Like a River? Start here!

Part 1

Part 2 here we go!!!

The whole drive to the school, you speculated over what Violet could have possibly done. Your heart raced with worry. She was such a sweet child, and tended to get along with everyone. Now she was in trouble? 

“Don’t fret too much, darling,” Gwilym said as if reading your mind. “I’m sure it’s something small. Violet’s a wonderful child.”

“I dunno,” you returned. “She’s been so strange about everything lately…”

“We shouldn’t jump to any conclusions before we have the information,” he said.

You nodded. Your mind still swirled with questions, but you tried to relax. It could be something as simple as she did exceptionally poor on a test. You just had to wait and see.

When you arrived at the school, you waited for Gwilym to help you out of the car. Then, you walked inside together, heading for  the headmaster’s office, where the teacher told you to meet them. That part also made you anxious for answers. If the headmaster was involved, didn’t that mean it was something serious? You just had to know. It took a lot of strength to walk normally to the office. You wanted to sprint there and see Violet.

When you reached the lobby, the receptionist led you to the headmaster’s office. It was a handsome, stately room that sort of reminded you of studies you might see in a black and white movie. Gwilym had an office in your home, but it was simple, and the furniture wasn’t made with over shined leather.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Lee,” the headmaster said from behind his desk.

Violet sat in a chair opposite him, head hanging down and looking harshly at the floor. Her teacher stood behind her. You looked at your daughter, willing her to meet your eyes, but hers remained fixed on the carpet. 

“Please, have a seat,” the headmaster said.

He was Mrs. Topper’s husband, but you had only met him once, when you enrolled Violet in the school. He was a polite man, but not nearly as friendly as his wife. Now, both were tense. Mrs. Topper shot you an apologetic look as you and Gwilym took the remaining chairs, Violet between you.

“What’s happened?” Gwilym asked. “Is Violet okay?”

“Violet is fine,” Mr. Topper said. “It’s the boy she punched I’m worried about.”

“She hit someone?!” you gasped.

Mr. Topper nodded. “Yes. A classmate of hers.”

“He was making fun of me!” Violet interjected.

You rounded on her. “That doesn’t matter, Violet, you do not hit people!”

“You’ve hit someone!” she protested, looking at you at last.

That stumped you. You tried to remember who you had hit in your life. Gwilym came to your rescue.

“Henry,” he said quietly.

You blinked, shocked that Violet remembered something from when she was so little.

“That was different, I was defending myself,” you told her. “And it was only a last resort. You know better than to hit someone just because of their words.”

She frowned, and looked at the floor again.

“Look, no matter the situation, Violet acted in a way that is simply not tolerated at this school,” Mr. Topper went on. “I’m afraid she’s been suspended for three days.”

“Are you joking?” Gwilym cried. “She’s been a model student up until now. One infraction and she’s suspended?!”

“Mr. Lee, I understand it’s upsetting, but this infraction was not cheating or lying,” Mr. Topper explained. “She used violence. As I said, we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to attacking another student.”

“But if she was provoked -”

“As your wife said, it doesn’t matter,” Mr. Topper interrupted. “She hit someone. The boy didn’t attack her first or anything like it. If she was being teased, she needed to tell her teacher.”

You looked at Violet.

“Did you tell Mrs. Topper that the boy was making fun of you?” you asked sharply.

Her bottom lip quivered. “No.”

“Why not?” Gwilym asked gently.

“I didn’t think about it,” she admitted.

“Well, you clearly weren’t thinking,” you snapped.

Gwilym sighed and looked at Mr. Topper. 

“Is there nothing else to be done?” he wondered.

“There’s not, I’m sorry,” Mr. Topper answered. “Violet is not to be on school grounds for three days. That’s final.”

“And any work she misses?” 

“It cannot be made up, I’m afraid.”

You took a deep breath as anger raged inside your chest. It was mixed with shock and disappointment, but mostly anger. You had not raised a violent child. She had never shown this kind of tendency before. Then you felt a twinge of fear. What if she was more like her father - her biological father - than you thought?

At this point, Mrs. Topper chimed in.

“Violet, I know this isn’t like you,” she said. “You’re a sweet, smart girl, and a joy to have in class. The next time someone says something that hurts your feelings, don’t be afraid to come and tell me. We’ll all sit down and work it out with our words. Okay?”

Violet nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great,” Mrs. Topper said. Then she looked at her husband, who nodded.

“You may go now,” he said.

You got to your feet and shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Topper, as did Gwilym. Then, all of you left and walked to the car. It was deathly quiet as you began the drive home. You were still angry at Violet for acting that way, but now you could not escape the thought that she might be more Henry’s daughter than yours. It felt a bit crazy to jump to that conclusion, but you couldn’t help it. That thought had terrified you since the day she was born. Now, it had emerged from wherever you buried it and reared its ugly head.

“Violet,” Gwilym said to break the heavy silence. “I hope you understand how disappointed we are.”

“More than disappointed,” you added. “That was completely unacceptable.”

Violet didn’t say anything, but you heard her sniffle in the backseat. You couldn’t look at her. If you did, your anger would cave.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” you demanded.

She muttered something under her breath.

“What was that?” you snapped.

“No!” she cried. 

“Well, you better think of something because we are having a long talk when we get home, young lady,” you warned her.

The rest of the drive was spent in more silence. Gwilym kept trying to catch your eye but you ignored him. You knew he wanted you to lighten up, but you couldn’t. Not with something like this.

When you reached the house, Violet sprang from the car and hurried to the door. Gwilym once again came around to help you and then you followed behind. When the door was open, Violet started to run up the stairs but you stopped her.

“No way, Vi,” you said. “Kitchen. Now.”

Her shoulders sagged and she dragged her feet all the way to the kitchen. You pulled a chair out for her and she sat in it. You couldn’t sit, and you just barely heard Gwilym offer to get you a chair but you waved him off.

“Explain yourself,” you said to your daughter “Why did you hit that little boy?”

“I told you!” she said. “He was making fun of me!”

“What was he making fun of you for?” Gwilym asked.

“My accent!”

“Your accent?!” you repeated. “Are you serious? You honestly thought that was worth hitting someone?!”

Violet blinked and a tear spilled down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I don’t know why it made me so angry.”

“Well, you’re grounded,” you told her. “It doesn’t matter what that boy said or that you were angry. That’s never a reason to hurt another person.”

Gwilym looked at you. “Darling, take it easy. Clearly something is bothering her. Let’s hear her out.”

Your eyes flashed as you looked at him.

“Don’t lecture me on how to discipline my daughter, Gwil!”

The air was sucked out of the room. As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could snatch them out of the air and shove them back down your throat. Gwilym’s eyes went wide and the hurt behind them was abundantly clear. He cleared his throat and looked at Violet.

“Violet, could you excuse us?” he asked. “We’re not done with this conversation, but Mum and I need to talk first.”

“O-okay,” she said, eyes flickering between you and him. “I’ll go to my room.”

Without another word, she ran upstairs. You waited until you heard her door close before starting.

“Honey, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean -”

He held up a hand to stop you. 

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it.”

Tears formed in your eyes. “But I didn’t, I swear!”

“Yes, you did,” he argued. “But I don’t think it’s because you don’t see me as Violet’s father or you doubt my parenting abilities.”

“You don’t?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “I think this comes from a different place. The same place that led you to find out you were pregnant all on your own. You don’t really trust me.”

You blinked. “What? That’s ridiculous, of course I -”

He cut across you again. “No, you don’t. You trust me to be faithful to you. You trust that I love you. But deep down - really deep down - you don’t trust that I won’t hurt you. Some part of you genuinely believes that you will be on your own again.”

He really hit the nail on the head. Gwilym knew you so well by now, probably even better than you knew yourself. Your old defensive habit of making a joke in times like these was bubbling to the surface, but you pushed it down. He would not accept a joke now, and you needed to be honest.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t blame you,” he returned. “I know it’s not your fault that you feel this way. You were hurt by your ex-husband, and by your family. You got away before they could ever fully reject you.”

He stepped closer to you, and you hung your head with shame. He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and made you look at him. His eyes shone with love and understanding. Just like always. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Listen,” he said. “And hear me. Y/N, my love, my wife, my Dear Friend...I am not going anywhere.”

Your heart began to swell at the promise. Everything was love with Gwilym, and he gave it to you freely. You couldn’t believe you were still adjusting to being loved this way.

“I believe you,” you breathed out as your bottom lip trembled with emotion. 

He moved his hand to cup your cheek.

“Will you let me stay?” he asked. “Let me be your husband?”

You nodded, biting your lip and melting into him. You buried your face in his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I love you,” you said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, darling,” he said, stroking your hair. “I forgive you.”

Your hands gripped his shirt tightly. For a moment, you wanted to stay right here forever. To hold on to Gwilym and be in his arms and forget about anything else. You knew that he was right because already a part of you was whispering that you were too much trouble and one day he would grow tired of it. Holding onto him was like holding onto his words. I am not going anywhere. 

“Darling, how would you feel about...about seeing someone about all this?” he asked tentatively, pulling away from the hug to look into your eyes. “I feel like there’s a lot of learned behaviors from Henry that you may need professional help in unlearning.”

You looked away. It felt like a blow. A step back. After your last confrontation with Henry, you felt like you had conquered it. That his actions no longer affected you and you were free. But Gwilym was right. There was still so much that needed to be addressed.

“I’m open to it,” you told him. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes for...for you.”

“I want you to do it for yourself, love,” he replied. “I’m going to be here for you no matter what.”

He leaned in and kissed your lips. You deepened the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. Sometimes, words did not do justice to how grateful you were for your husband, so you did your best to show him. All your appreciation went into this kiss.

“Now,” he said as you broke apart. “Shall we go and speak to Violet?”

“I think we should,” you said. “You’re right, something else is bothering her enough to make her act out.”

“I think I know what it is,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I just really hope I’m wrong.”

Taking your hand, he led you upstairs.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: Rampage at the Riot House

I've been referring to this story informally as "Robert on a leash." You'll see... 🤷🏽‍♀️ Very light smut and bondage, lots of humor (I hope). Thank you, @tremble-and-shake for the sanity check. ❤️❤️❤️

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“Are you ready, mon chat?” asked the woman Robert knew only as Miss Bisset.

“Yes,” he said, as a slight shiver ran through his body. He was out of the covers and only wearing the tiny red gym shorts that she had found in his dresser and the studded collar that she placed on him.

Miss Bisset raised an eyebrow while she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Yes, Miss Bisset,” he said, realizing his mistake. He was new to playing this kind of game. He'd have to decide when the night was over if he'd rather punch Jonesy or thank him in private for the opportunity.

The band and its inner circle were hanging out in Robert's suite, and Jonesy had introduced Robert to Miss Bisset earlier that night. Jonesy promised she was someone that Robert would find unforgettable.

Looking back, it seemed odd that Jonesy would encourage a conquest. Robert had quickly committed every curve of her body, accentuated by her tight black jumpsuit, to memory, but he now realized that Jonesy's promise had a different meaning.

There was only one empty spot left on the couch, so Robert offered his lap to his new acquaintance. Their verbal dalliance quickly escalated to canoodling, at which point Robert excused himself for a more intimate meeting with the statuesque woman.

Soon he was on the bed with his lips locked to her full ones. He was having fun at first, when his hands roamed her brown skin and then again when she removed a feather from her oversized handbag and dragged it over his naked body. He writhed and burned wantonly when she graced his sensitive cock with the softness of her lips. He instantly forgot about the party raging on the other side of the door and succumbed to the mystery lady who was clearly a master of her craft.

But then she stopped just short of completion and told him what was in store next, and why. Still high from her ministrations, he didn't quite know how to react.

Now, he downed the last of a bottle of red wine, steeling himself for something he knew he'd never be able to live down. And in Miss Bisset's capable hands, he almost didn't mind at all.

She traced the studs on his collar with one hand and grasped his curls tightly with the other. “We're going now. On your knees.”

“Yes, Miss Bisset.” Robert was filled with a jumble of emotions. His hands tensed in tight fists on the carpet as his anger against Jonesy continued to rise. His face flushed in advance of the reaction he expected when he crawled out to greet everyone waiting in the living room. But a twinge of intrigue also made his cock pulse in the cramped quarters of the shorts. Her hold over him was a refreshing, new experience.

He took a deep breath. He had lost the bet, just as Jonesy had predicted. He knew he couldn't back down. The woman looming over him, who held the leash attached to the collar, wouldn't let him do that anyway.

He shook his hair off of his shoulders and raised his chin defiantly.

“Good.” She cracked the door open a bit and called for Jonesy. “We're ready, cherie,” she said.

“Right.” Jonesy stood and faced the guests. He cleared his throat and tried to contain a smirk that wanted to boil over into a chuckle.

“I'm here, mingling with you scoundrels tonight for a good reason.” He paused and smiled. “Consider me the ringmaster for tonight's main event, if you please.”

He looked around the room. Bonzo sat cross-legged on the floor, practically bouncing. He knew of the bet and the consequences for Robert. His camera was at the ready. This would be even better than when he pulled Robert's trunks down in the pool, he thought to himself.

Jimmy sat sideways on the couch, with a brunette sitting between his legs. He clutched his Jack Daniels bottle with one hand and absentmindedly caressed her hair with the other.

Cole looked bored but intrigued. He surmised that another line would make the mystery event more amusing and helped himself to some of the nose candy on the coffee table.

The rest of the audience, a combination of roadies, techs, and assistants, and their dates, talked amongst themselves.

“Some of you know that I bet Robert on the flight over that he couldn't finish three chapters of his book before we landed. If he lost, he was to do something embarrassing, something that I was going to dream up just for him.”

He took a sip of beer. “We all know that when Robert isn't in the arms of a groupie or two that he pretends to read, but really he's checking us all out and what we've gotten into.”

Jimmy snorted. “I'm reminded of the one time our enterprising blonde scholar was very engrossed in an upside-down book.”

The rest of the room laughed, just like they did that night when Robert was busted.

“Just so.” Jonesy continued. “It comes as no surprise, then, that our dear Robert Anthony did indeed fail to hold up his end of our wager. So--”

“Tell ‘em what that cheeky bastard has to do, Jones!” Bonzo couldn't contain his glee.

“Yes, thank you, John Henry. Our very own Golden God is about to stalk out here in the guise of a lion. A tamed lion,” Jonesy added. “Tamed by Miss Bisset, one of my dear friends from New Orleans.”

Jimmy laughed so uncharacteristically loudly that he surprised Cole and jostled his companion.

“Oi, Jimmy!” she scolded.

“Shhh, love, have a sip and forget all about it.” He placed his whiskey bottle to her lips.

“You should've told me, Bonzo. I would have brought my movie camera to commemorate the event. Though I'm sure I'll remember this for as long as I live…”

“No worries, Pagey. I've gotten quite fast with this thing,” Bonzo said raising his camera. “I'll capture every second that I can, innit?”

“Are we ready, ladies and gentlemen?” Jonesy asked, already knowing the answer.

He knocked on the door. “Miss Bisset, are you and your pet ready for us?”

She crouched and caught Robert off guard with a deep kiss. Then she petted him on his head and straightened his collar. “Don't forget to growl, mon chat,” she said with a smile before she yanked the chain.

With her crop in hand, she pushed the door open.

She strutted out on her tall platforms with Robert in tow. “It is my pleasure to present to you the Lion of the Black Country, a fearsome, wanton creature who, in my charge, is no longer a threat to the countryside.”

Robert knew when he had been beaten - - both by Jonesy and Miss Bisset. With the wine easing the reality of the situation away, he decided to give his all to the role.

He stalked out on his hands and knees, with his chest forward and his head high.

He growled heartily and shook his locks and snarled. He reared up on his knees and swiped at the air with his hands.

Bonzo was on his feet and clicking away with the camera. “Bloody hell, this is better than I could've imagined, Jonesy!” Bonzo tried hard to contain his laughter so his hand would remain steady.

Cole and Jimmy exchanged glances and fell into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “Nothing new, truth be told,” Cole said, trying and failing to be serious. “It's just Percy on the prowl!”

Jonesy grinned, satisfied with how his plan had played out.

Robert crawled toward Jimmy, and Miss Bisset walked along with him. Jimmy's girl squealed in mock terror as Robert approached and then pawed at her legs.

“Is it hunting season yet?” Jimmy muttered.

Robert growled loud enough to startle Jimmy, and Bonzo lost it again when Miss Bisset whacked Robert's ass with her crop. “Behave, mon chat,” she said with throaty authority.

The rest of the women present watched him slink toward them, one shoulder forward at a time, and his bulge in constant motion as he moved. It was the most seductive movement he could manage on his hands and knees.

“Here, kitty, kitty!” The bravest one, a redhead, got on all fours and motioned to him.

He came to a stop before her. She stroked his hair and kissed him. He purred and nuzzled his head against her breasts. She held his head in place and continued to run her fingers through his hair.

Miss Bisset yanked Robert's chain again. “That's enough, mon chat. There are still more people to greet.”

The other women greeted Robert in the same manner. The grin fighting to rise on his face almost made him break character, but he pressed on with his end of the deal.

Jonesy's smile started to fade a bit when he realized Robert had found a way to enjoy the situation. But because Bonzo had started on another roll of film, Jonesy was satisfied with how the night would live on, long after they'd had their concert and the Starship had gone wheels-up and away from the city.

After the novelty had worn off, Miss Bisset sat down on the floor. She motioned for Robert to join her. She removed the leash, and he sat on his feet with his hands placed on the carpet.

Jonesy brought her a few slices of pizza piled on a paper plate, and she fed Robert with her fingers while she ate. She petted him from time to time as she joined the conversation in the room, and he purred while he rubbed his head against her shoulder.

Jimmy teased Robert once more about his lost bet, but the only response he got from Robert was another growl.

Bonzo marveled at how committed Robert seemed to the role. He had never seen Robert so quiet before, and rather liked some peace for once. “Absolutely bloody gold,” Bonzo said while he kept taking pictures the entire night.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

[ask-de-writer]

GONE TO SEA : World of Sea : Science Fiction : Part 3

GONE TO SEA

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

WORK IN PROGRESS (Word count unknown at this time)

copyright 2018

Writing started 2005

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Chapter 02. Colony

All thousand of the new colonists of Sea stood in the largest recreational plaza to wish the crew of the ESA 14 farewell.  Captain Alain wound up his speech by saying, “We have done our best to ensure that this colony has as good a start as it can have.  You know that we would have been willing to take you all back with us if it were possible.  The laws governing the physics of the Crossover drive will not let us.  

“We will see that an expedition is sent to see how you are doing as quickly as the ESA can do so.  You will be on your own until then. Sometime between forty two to fifty years from now they will arrive. Until then, may you be blessed by whatever Deity you choose to pray to.

“I hope that the relief expedition finds you well and prospering.  May that vessel need only take back whatever unique and wonderful trade goods and ideas you have found to contribute to the community of mankind among the stars.”

To somewhat subdued cheers, the crew of the ESA 14 filed aboard their Slowpoke shuttle to return to the orbiting starship.  Lifting with the silence of any well functioning Crossover device, the shuttle dwindled into the sky and was gone.

Giles Willon turned to Marcus Angerson and observed, “Got to say, this planet is a bit of a disappointment.”  He flexed his elbows out from his body and finished with a grin, “Expected more elbow room. Know what I mean?”

Marcus snapped back, “Are you mocking me?  You know that I am a soils engineer!  The services of my specialty have been vital to the very survival of all twenty three other ESA colonies.  Why did the ESA even bother sending me here?  There is no land to bring to the needs of mankind.  No soils to engineer at all!  This is a travesty!”

Giles raised hand placatingly.  “There is no need for such anger, Marcus. We all know why we are here.  None of us is suited to a world like this.  The probe that found this planet was programmed incorrectly but nobody knew it until we got here.  

“Its program assumed that any planet with an atmosphere like this one meant that it had significant land masses and that some form of photosynthetic plant life had to exist.  That is all.  We all knew that no matter what we found here, it was a one way trip for us.  It was a gamble.  We sort of lost.”

Small, black haired and eyed Pele Barant interjected, “Maybe we did win but just haven't realized it yet.  The gods can be really sneaky that way.”

With a sneer, Marcus turned his back on her, muttering, “False gods!”

Giles looked down a bit to Pele's usually cheerful Polynesian face and said, “Don't mind him.  He is just disappointed with his situation, that is all.

“By the way, I enjoyed working on the truss work of this station with you. You did a great design job.  We are lucky to have someone with your civil and mechanical engineering skills and marine architecture experience with us.”

Pele flashed Giles a ready smile and said, “Thank you.  I appreciate having someone who can look down to my face and up to my work at the same time.”

/////////

As the weeks passed into months, the station began to settle into a routine as people got used to the strange situation that they found themselves in.

/////////

In his quarters, Marcus Angerson closed the door of his study to shut out the sounds of his wife Trisha and their two children Benjamin and Lora while he brooded on the wrongness of his situation.  He pulled the blinds to seal away the glare of the sun and the vile sight of the endless ocean, with not so much as a sandbar above sea level anywhere on the entire planet.  

There is no reason to it!  All of my years of study on how to adapt alien soils to the needs of mankind have been wasted.  Instead of being one of the most vital men for the colony's survival, I am now very nearly the least. What should I do?

His eye fell to the Bible on his working desk.  Sourly, he picked it up and began to read.  Somehow, it did not give the solace that it used to in times of difficulty.  Doggedly, he went all the way back to Genesis and began at the very beginning.

////////

Hugh Barant raced his wife Pele and daughter Mala'klea to their quarters. His long legs could have easily overtaken them but young Mala'klea loved beating him in races, as long as he didn't make it too easy for her.  Mala'klea's small hand hit the door frame only a tiny fraction of a second before Hugh's.  Flashing her father a high-spirited grin, Mala'klea ducked into their apartment.  Pele was already drawing wide the blinds to allow the generous sun of Sea to shine into their rooms and let them see the wonder of a rolling ocean that had no end.

There were some of Sea's many kinds of birds perching on the railing of their balcony.  They were waiting to see if the people inside had something that they would share with the birds . . . or that the birds could steal for that matter.  The birds apparently didn't see much difference.  Besides, Pele or Mala'klea always set out a plate of something for them to squabble over.  Today was no exception. Pele produced a fresh plate with a roasted fish that she had speared the other day while diving on the reef.  A small bird-storm developed around the plate.  The Barants sat on their side of the glass and watched with laughter and hugs.

/////////

Down in the Bio-safety and Nutrition laboratory, Kaim Hawadie told his many assistants, “Now that things are finally together, we need to got on the stick.  While we were helping to build this place we did get some reports out.  Just the construction area, less than one tenth of this reef complex, has yielded us a backlog of over three thousand samples to analyze.  

“To help out, we have devised a report cover page that lists the following items.  1. Toxic, 1a. Useful Y/N, 2. Edible- no nutritional value, 3. Edible- contains ______,  4. Pharmacological value ______, 5. Other useful features _______.

“Our job is to get the reports out as quickly and accurately as possible. Of course, we are watching for the thymine, lysine and missing vitamins in every organism or sample that we test.  If we find them, those reports will get a special red flag cover.

“Other experts will be trying to make sense out of our reports.  Our job, and it is a big one, is just to get them the data.  Now let's get to the analysis.”

/////////

Mister Torres sat back in an easy chair and watched his son Jason playing on the living room carpet.  It was a Periodic Table game.  His lovely and talented wife Mikhala was sitting opposite Jason, taking her turn at the game's cards.

Sadly he wondered, Will this place last long enough for you to grow up, Jason?  Mikhala, will we live to see grandchildren?  I really had no choice in doing this.  What we have here is the best that I could give to you all.  It is simply a hope.  In the end, an empty hope.

Perhaps, Mikhala, my love, your knowledge of Slowpoke drive systems will let us move into space.  I will need to ask you about the possibility of building us another shuttle.  We can't risk such a move with only one shuttle.  Farms in orbit or under domes on Wotan might actually allow us to survive.  Down here those monster Coriolis storms doom long term farming or pretty much anything else.

I wish that I had someone that I could open up to about these things.

Mister Torres went back to studying his tablet computer.  Immersing himself in the multitude of tasks needed to keep the colony running as smoothly as possible provided relief from his fatalistic ruminations.

/////////

Molly Miken called Mister Makle on the video link and invited, “Hey, Bronnie!  Me and my structural maintenance crew are planning a barbecue cook-out and pot luck down on dock A.  Want to come?  Bring Tam and your son Mark along.  We requisitioned one of the work boats for the afternoon to play about.”

A grin on his face, Mister Makle replied, “We will be there.  We will have to stop by the Commissary to get something, though.  Tam just got off work and Mark is on his way back from school.  By the way, please don't spread my first name around, I took a lot of ribbing in school over it.”

Molly promptly shot back, “Don't worry about that, Boss!  Your secret is safe with me!  Unless I need to blackmail you for better working conditions . . . Bronnie.”

///////////

Marcus Angerson laid aside the Koran.  In his shuttered den, away from the detested sight of endless ocean and the glare of the sun that could spawn such an abominable world, he glared at the books as if his problems were their fault.  He thought, Months wasted.  None of these, not the Bible, Koran or any of the other religious texts that I can find sheds any light on the real problem.  

Once again, the small voice that had been prodding and guiding him for the last month or so offered, ((Of course they don't.  Those books were written on Earth and, though they might provide some guidance, they were for the Earth.  You are not on Earth.  I do have a Plan for you, but the time is not yet ripe.))

Why am I so unnecessary?  By all rights I should be the most important single man in the colony!  In spite of my vital education, I remain utterly worthless. A mere teacher of children!

((At least that little pagan Barant got what she has had coming to her. In the end, all must come to Me.  Before that happens, you may need to be brought lower still.))

A knock at his study door interrupted Marcus' brooding.  Trisha, his wife, put her head in and announced, “Honey, dinner is waiting.  Would you please join us today?  We know how hard you are working, what with all of those school papers to grade.  Ben and Lora have missed you these last few weeks.”

With ill grace, Marcus came out to the apartment's dining area.  The window was open to the lowering sun, setting in a glory of low clouds, gilding them with gold, red and purple.  A light breeze came in off the ocean outside.

Seeing the light and the sight of the endless sea that he had been studiously shutting out irritated him.  Marcus strode angrily to the window and slid it shut with a bang.  He pulled the blinds, plunging the cheerful room into the gloom that better suited his mood.

Marcus stamped back to the table and sat.  He was reaching for his coffee when he heard Trisha's voice begin, “Sweet Lord, we thank you for the company at this table and this fine fish that you have provided us . . .”

Rudely he interrupted, “What are you doing?  The blessing is my duty!”

Benjamin, hands still folded, said mildly, “We didn't mean to upset you, father.  You haven't been here to say it for the last several weeks. We have been taking turns.  It was Mom's turn today.  Would you please say the grace for us?”

As he started to fold his hands, Marcus' eyes fell on the fish that lay on the plate at the center of the table.  It lay on a bed of green and wrinkly sea lettuce.  There was a hole through it, just back of the gills.  His brows drew down in a rage.  He demanded, “You were just asking me to sign for household money!  How could you afford such a fish as this?  You lied to me about being out of money!”

As Trisha looked up in shock at the accusation, Benjamin spoke up.  “The fish didn't cost us anything, Dad.  The Barants went diving on the reef a few days ago.  Pele sent Mala'klea around with it as a gift.”

Marcus' lip curled in disdain as he demanded, “And what would you have made for our dinner if you had not begged from that, that . . . heathen?”

Lora gave her father a confused look and said, “Nothing.  The kitchen is empty.  The Commissary turned down Mom's card when we went to shop today.  They said that there was no money left in it.  That is why she has been trying to get you to sign the transfer.”

Ignoring his daughter, Marcus grabbed the plate from the table and hurled both it and the fish on it against the wall.  He yelled in outrage, “We will not bend the knee to those vile pagans!

“That false idol worshiping fiend is behind all of my, eh, our misfortune!  At every turn, she is put up on a pedestal and I am cast lower!”

Trisha, eyes wide in fear, was looking at her husband as if she had never before seen him.  Tentatively she extended her tablet and stylus, saying, “Please dear, just sign the transfer and I will buy you whatever you want for din . . .”  Her head rocked back as Marcus slapped her in the face.  Her tablet fell to the table and skittered to a stop against Lora's dinner plate.

His own face twisted into a feral snarl, Marcus withdrew his stinging hand. Blood mingled with the tears that trickled down Trisha's cheek. He raged, “I sign you money every week!  You should have plenty!  Use it!”

Cringing in fear after his father's outburst, Benjamin found the courage to say, “You haven't signed us any money for about a month.  You keep saying that you will do it presently but you haven't done it.”

Scrabbling to recover her tablet, Trisha extended it in another desperate attempt to get the money that they all needed.  “Please, Marcus. Benjamin is right.  It has been three weeks since we had a weekly transfer for the household funds.  We are behind on our bills.  We have the money in the bank to pay for everything.  All that you need to do is sign the transfer.”

Anger causing him to draw a separate breath for each word, Marcus growled, “I. Am. Going. Out. . . When. I. Return. There. Will. be. Food. Fit. For. A. Godly. Man!”

Confused, the slap that she received bringing her greater pain than the brutal physical impact, Trisha asked, “Marcus?  What is wrong with you?  I am doing my best to . . .”  This time, the now furious Marcus hit her face so hard that her chair went over.  The tablet went flying, bouncing from the wall and landing on the floor.  The back of Trisha's head hit the wall and then thumped to the floor as she fell. Benjamin and Lora ran for their room and locked the door.

Marcus drove his heel deliberately into the tough glass of the tablet face, shattering it as he strode to the apartment door.  Over his shoulder he snapped, “You have joined the many seeking to bring me, to bring God Himself down and lift up the pagan above all!  It must not be! You must uphold me, uphold God, with proper food or suffer the consequence!”  The door slammed behind his retreating form.

/////////

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

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[weepylucifer]

Qcard, 35, “If I could just get you to understand - ”

Ever since they’d gotten together, they rarely ever fought anymore. Oh, they had plenty of debate, and could bicker for hours on end, and they were rarely of one mind about a topic right from the start, but that wasn’t fighting. They weren’t fighting even now. But whenever this particular discussion was breached, they came as close as they ever did, raised voices and the lot.

“If you had seen humanity as I’ve seen it, my dear,” Q was saying idly, swirling the wine in his glass around, “you would be way less… romantic about your progress.”

“If you’re meaning to accuse me of romanticizing my own species, my Q, your actions betray your hypocrisy,” Picard parried. “Here you sit, on a Federation starship, surrounded by humans. You are currently in a romantic relationship with a human. Some of my human crew have managed to become your friends–”

“Objection, your honor! Your counselor Troi isn’t fully human, and neither is Data–”

“What I’m meaning to say is that at present you spend more time with humans than you do with any other species apart from your own, is that not so? You appear as one of us and you seem to enjoy it. You have at one point voiced your appreciation for certain human traits that your people seem to lack…”

“Talked to Kathy, have we?”

“Admiral Janeway was as kind as to share relevant data with me,” Picard said with a smile. “My point is, you enjoy humans. Perhaps we’re not even so different.”

Q laughed. “Beg pardon?”

“Well, of course you have powers,” Picard said. “And you love to lord them over us, and you can change your shape if you so desire - not that I see you do it very often - but apart from that…”

“Apart from that?!”

“Perhaps the Q and humans are not so dissimilar after all.”

“Picard!” Q threw his hands up in mock outrage. “The presumptuousness! Everything I ever said about your species but repeated in a louder voice! You haven’t even seen me in my native form, have you?”

Picard realized that no, he had not. Suddenly, that seemed an enormous deal. He’d had Q as his lover for close to a year, and yet he’d never even seen his true shape. Had he gotten too used to the human body Q presented for him? Had he forgotten that it was an illusion? How come he’d never even asked himself what Q really looked like, when he didn’t choose to look like something else? How had he never thought to be curious about that? Some explorer, he was.

“Perhaps I’ve really been presumptuous,” he mused. “Perhaps I’ve started to think of you as… some sort of humanoid with powers. You are not naturally humanoid, are you?”

“Not at all,” Q said, grinning. “Not even close to corporeal. Ah, if only you could see it. If I could just get you to understand…”

“Why can I not see it? See you, that is?”

Suddenly, Q looked evasive. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it not possible? Would I not be able to perceive you?”

“Nothing is impossible to me. But granted, some things are… complicated.”

“Can you not appear to me in your true form?”

“I could manage. But I… well, maybe it is best not to.”

Picard raised an eyebrow. Now that his curiosity was piqued, there was no way that he was letting this go.

“Why is that? Would the sight of you be too much for my limited primate brain?”

“Something… like that, I suppose.”

Picard smirked. “Would the sight of your divine majesty destroy me like Zeus destroyed Semele?”

Q shifted in his seat. It was almost a squirm. “Not destroy you. Not as such.”

“Drive me out of my mind?”

“By creation, I hope not! I’m not that horrid a sight to behold. Sure, I gained some astral mass in the last year but nonetheless…” Q put a hand over his mouth at that point, as if he’d already said too much.

Picard was amused. “You’re self-conscious because you gained weight?”

“Not weight. I don’t weigh. Just… girth.” Q sighed. “And no, that is no reason to be self-conscious.”

“But something else is.” There seemed to be a problem here, and Picard didn’t quite know what it was. He hoped Q didn’t perceive him as shallow. Especially since he didn’t even know what the relevant Q beauty standards were.

And that was exactly it, wasn’t it?

“So let us summarize,” Picard said. “Your true form is radically different from a human, correct?”

Q rolled his eyes. “That is correct.”

“So different, in fact, that seeing it is likely to change my perception of you… and that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I don’t want to be a space oddity,” Q muttered in the direction of the carpet. “I know you’re trying to do better and so on and so forth, but ultimately humans only see as equals those life forms which look like them. It has taken hard work to make possible what we have here now - a relationship with both of us as equal as it gets. I don’t want you to look at me and mentally downgrade me to some creature you found on your travels.”

“That will never happen.”

“Hah, I’ve transcended the need for a body,” Q said darkly. “And yet here I am, agonizing about the regard of some primitive corporeal–”

“Enough,” Picard ordered. “Do what you must - bring me wherever - right now. I am going to look at your native form, and I am going to love you all the same, and it’s going to happen right now. Did you think I could continue to live with you like this now? In the knowledge that in order to be with me, my lover must present me some pale illusion for my convenience?”

Q was, in a rare instance, speechless. He looked at Picard with big round eyes, surprised by the outburst. “It… doesn’t take anything out of me to present as human,” he said quietly. “It’s easy.”

“When have you ever been easy? I never wanted an easy lover. I want your true self. I want you as you.”

Q gave him a long, doubtful look. Then suddenly he shrugged, as if to say “what the hell”, and snapped his fingers.

In a flash, Picard found himself floating in space. The Enterprise was nowhere in sight, neither was any nearby planet or star. He could breathe here, he knew not how or why or what exactly he was breathing. He hung in space, a singular phenomenon. It was nothing like swimming in water, he didn’t rise, he didn’t sink. He could move his limbs, but there was nowhere to move.

He tried making sound. “Q?” he asked hesitantly.

Turn around, said a voice in his mind. Around? Where was around? Picard flailed a little.

Look below.

He looked. What he had taken for a band of faraway stars was actually moving lazily towards him. Soon it filled his entire vision, something like galaxies, starry-white and brilliant and gigantic, a mass of twining tendrils and bristling energies, but somehow serene. Picard tried to follow the glowing, glittering tendrils with his eyes, but at some point they… disappeared from what he called reality. Trying to look there was like… like a toothache in his brain.

It awed him. It was just so big. It filled the entirety of his vision - it seemed in this moment to fill the entire universe.

“What is this?” he breathed.

Me, Q said simply.

“That… is you? All of that?”

Oh yes. And what you’re seeing now is just one lone part of a whole. The Continuum is much bigger. Imagine lots of others like me, all interlinking and intertwining, swapping information, forever.

Picard said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. No mortal poet had ever had to describe something like this, with only mortal words at their disposal. Picard didn’t feel up to the task. Some creature, Q had said. The word didn’t do him justice. Creature, life form, entity, angel, god… nothing did Q justice.

I knew it, said Q. You hate it. His shape seemed to curl into a twisted knot. All of this indescribable matter in motion, just for him.

“No,” Picard said. He was vaguely aware of tears running down his face. “You’re beautiful. You’re beyond beautiful… what must I do to touch you like this?”

[shadow-wasser]

WIP Fic Whenever: The Weakest, Of the Gods

WIP Fic Friday is a place where I will put a ‘quick and dirty’ first draft of either a short story or a chapter from a longer story. This will hopefully encourage me to improve my writing output. I missed last week... oops. This is from the “The Gods Have Horns” setting. Warning: Eye-related horror.

You always thought you were, kind of, the weakest of the gods. Not because Breath is like, a shitty aspect, but more because you never really went that high up the god tiers, and Pages are like, supposed to have further to go, than most.

You don’t mind that much, though. You don’t need lots of flashy powers to enjoy life.

You wander. You fly. You sometimes accidentally run into other gods, or hear them calling your name from afar. You rarely answer them. Generally speaking, other trolls have not been kind to you, and you much prefer the company of beasts. All of you turning into immortals with robes and wings and shiznasty powers has not changed that basic fact.

You don’t hang around the aliens much, either. You might stumble upon some accidentally, if they’re in that span of time between when they start talking, and when they start building cities. But you don’t stick around long. After locals spot you, they tend to say your name, for thousands of years afterward. It’s a little annoying.

So, you find worlds of animals. Worlds upon worlds where only animals walk, where nobody splits the air with speech. You’re not all that lonely. You tell yourself you’re happy.

(You can hear Eridan calling your name sometimes. You don’t ever say his.)

You are reclining under a tree in the moonlight on a vast savannah, listening to chirping night-critters, writing beat poetry, in your head, to their songs. Then you see the lights, moving above.

A spaceship.

You are not afraid, but you are cautious, and disappointed. You’d rather that a star-faring civilization not colonize this world. It’s always a pain, to have to find a new planet to live.

The starship, which is truly enormous, comes to ground, and you know, even before it lands, that it’s not a regular alien ship.

It’s purple, for one, and bedecked in banners and streamers and flags. Those sorts of decorations, you’re pretty sure, don’t usually survive on spaceships. They burn up, or something.

And you recognize the sigil, on the banners. The aspect of Rage.

You haven’t seen Gamzee in, well, probably eons, but you don’t really keep track of time anymore. He stopped calling your name, after only a few years, when you first split off from the rest.

You’re pretty sure, he doesn’t miss you, anymore.

You’re not sure, if you ever missed him.

Aliens are coming out of the spaceship now, opening up the sides. They are all sorts of different aliens, many you’ve never seen before.

The spaceship unfolds like an intricate paper sculpture, inflating into a tremendously giant tent. There’s a carpet rolling out along the ground, and out of the tent steps-

Whoa, he’s huge.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You all can basically look however you want, now, within trollish reason. Like, you can have working legs, when you want, which you usually do. Also, you can look more like an adult, if you want, but you usually don’t like to. You like the way you feel, when you look young.

But Gamzee must be, eight feet tall, at least, not counting the horns. He’s wearing a black and purple vest and a fancy coat, striped pants and heavy boots. You can’t see his face clearly from under your tree, but you’re certain he’s still wearing his subjugglator paint.

You should go greet him, right? Maybe you can convince him to leave this planet alone, for whatever it is he’s doing. But he’s all dressed up and you’re basically just wearing your godhood. You quickly try to make yourself presentable, dredging an old hat with a feather in it out of your sylladex, even though the green clashes. You wish you had some real pants.

You feel kind of silly, for being nervous. It’s just, Gamzee, right?

Gamzee is talking with one of the aliens, but he looks up as you approach. And yes, it’s still Gamzee, he still has that lazy, satisfied expression, though his purple eyes have a degree of intensity you don’t remember being there before.

“Tavros,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your horns vibrate. “And there I thought you’d up and died ages ago, brother. Miracle.”

“Uh,” you reply. “No, I’m alive. I’ve been alive, this whole time. I think.”

“None of us had our knowing on about that there thing what you said.”

You feel a little bad, now. You might have told them you were alive, at least. When you speak, your tone is a little defensive. “I’ve been, exploring. And, communing with the animals. It’s peaceful, out here. And no one, judges me.”

Gamzee’s painted brows crease, but then he smiles. “Brother, why don’t you come inside? See my ring?”

“Uh, sure?”

You follow him behind a curtain, and into his ship. Inside it’s purple, and shadowy, and it smells bitter and musky. You can see aliens of various shapes and sizes running around, through curtains and around mirrors. You can hear distant screaming, or maybe it’s laughing? Maybe it’s applause. The air is full of smoke. By the time Gamzee and you reach your destination, your eyes are watering.

It’s the very top of the tent, a wide balcony from which Gamzee can look over the rings being set up, and the savannah stretching to the horizon.

There’s an alien there, its face painted in black and white, and Gamzee waves a hand at it. “fuck off.”

It fucks off.

Gamzee settles himself in a chair that looks more like a throne, and you are amazed at how easily he fits there, fits here, now naturally he seems to take up divinity. Not a hint of uncertainty, not a pause of hesitation. Every inch a god.

You’re almost envious.

“Lots to do here, brother,” he says. “We meet in a time of miracle and wonder.”

“What are you here to do?” you ask.

“Spread the mirthful word, my brother. Ain’t been a whole planet devoted to the Carnival, not yet.” He smiles lazily, and maybe there are a few more teeth in the grin, this time. “High time for there to getting been done.”

“The whole planet?” You can’t keep the surprise from your voice. “Not just, like, one city?”

“Naw, brother, got to think bigger than that. Nothing but tents and rings and sideshows and freaks, far as your motherfucking ganderbulbs can see and then more.” Gamzee gets up from the throne and walks up to the edge of the balcony, resting his arms on the railing. Then, he turns.

“But enough all and about me, my invertebro! What is all up and happening with you?”

“Gamzee, I… That’s all, very nice, and all, but I’m not sure that’s all, a good idea? Turning the planet, into one big, um, circus?”

Gamzee frowns, and, for a moment, narrows his eyes at you. You take a step back.

Then, he’s smiling again. “Brother I know we ain’t got our squawk on in millions of sweeps and all, so you don’t got it in your pan that I got my motherfucking understand on what all this is about you dig?”

“W-what?”

“Rage, brother. You even know what Rage is all about?”

“Not, um. Really. I mean, I know it means, being angry, but it’s probably more than that, because Breath is about more than, you know, breathing.”

“What’s Breath about?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I want you to get me all up in the schoolfeeding, Tavbro. What’s your motherfucking aspect all getting itself about?”

Breath… you know what it is. You know it in your core, like the sigil has been branded into your thinkpan, which is probably has, now that you think of it. Breath is freedom. Unfetteredness. The feeling of responsibilities being shed, of being light as air, of being held accountable for nothing.

You think you’ve done a pretty good job of being Breath.

“Freedom,” you say, eventually, uncertainly. “Breath is freedom?”

Gamzee laughs. You don’t see what is so funny.

“Aw, brother, I’m all about that too!”

“Huh?”

Gamzee leans forward, and his voice quiets. “Rage, brother. Rage is the hole what’s left when freedom’s gone. Rage is the thing in your thinkpan that makes you stop. Makes you hesitate. And I kill that. I MOTHERFUCKING KILL THAT!”

You jump at the change in volume, then feel immediately sheepish.

“Aw, Tavbro, don’t be all scared. It’s all good and miraculous that every single one of my motherfucking followers has all their Rage gone. Would be a better motherfucking world if everyone just said what’s on their motherfucking mind and did what they motherfucking wanted. Freedom. Brother, don’t you agree?”

You swallow. “Uh, I’m not sure I understand. I thought you were a, Bard? You don’t destroy, directly, right?”

He shakes his head. “Naw, brother. But it goes and shrivels and dies all on its own. Here, I’ll up and show you.”

He turns, and looks out at the savannah. The animals have never seen aliens before. They only look up curiously, don’t run, as Gamzee’s followers set up the circus.

He points. “See that motherfucker over there?” You go up and look. It’s one of Gamzee’s followers, a funny looking red alien with four arms. “He’s been wanting to try something but ain’t letting himself do it. And that ain’t no way to be thinking in my Carnival.”

Gamzee looks at you, and smiles, mouth friendly and eyes hard. “Don’t want none of that in my Carnival, brother.”

The red alien, who had been focused on erecting a large pole, turns to a brown furry alien next to him. And without hesitating a moment, he reaches up and rips out the furry alien’s eye.

And eats it.

You don’t watch the rest.

“I think that’s kind of sick.” you manage to say, eventually. “Did you, make him, do that?”

Gamzee actually looks confused. “It’s freedom, brother. It’s only what he wanted all and up to do, all in real life like.”

He must see the distress in your expression, because he then follows that up with: “We do the same thing, Tavbro.”

“No, I,” you don’t know what to say. He’s going to make your planet (you can’t help but think of it as yours), your whole planet, be like that? Without restraint or empathy or kindness? “I don’t think it’s the same thing at all.”

Gamzee frowns, then just as quickly smiles again. “Sure thing bro. We don’t gotta work together, though it’d all make me as happy as motherfuck if we up and did.”

He turns to look at the view again. “You can still up and stay if you wanna get your watch on, my brother. Or go on chilling with the birds and bees if that’s what speaks to you and all.”

“Gamzee,” you say, after a moment. “Can you, um. Use a different planet, maybe? I kind of, like this one?”

He looks at you, sidelong, and says nothing.

“Like, I like it, how it is? Not made into… a carnival…” You trail off.

“This is a good planet for a Carnival, bro. Not like you were up and using it.”

“Gamzee, don’t- I was kind of, living here-”

“IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WROTE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING NAME ON IT!”

Gamzee whirls, and his appearance is transformed. His fangs are bared, expression furious, and the scleras of his eyes look more orange than yellow.

“Tavbro, you ran, you can’t claim nothing. NOT MOTHERFUCKING NOTHING. Ain’t even acting a real god, just running around playing like you’re STILL A MOTHERFUCKING KID. This planet is MOTHERFUCKING MINE, brother. Can’t claim NOTHING. And I. Am going. TO DESTROY THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLANET. And there ain’t nothing you’re gonna do about it, are you?”

You sit down. Hard. You are sitting in a four-wheel device. You didn’t realize you still had one. You’re not sure if you can move your legs, actually. Or feel them.

“Didn’t motherfucking think so.”

Gamzee turns, to look back at the Carnival. And you…

You can feel it. The animals. Ripping into each other. Killing mates, killing young, predators going mad, fear-aggression spiking into suicidal terror…

He’s wiping out the whole planet.

Your planet.

By now, your communing abilities are highly developed. You’re more powerful than the Summoner, more powerful than any mortal troll could ever have been.

But when you reach out to get the animals to stop, you can’t. Divine power trumps psionics, you guess.

You have divine power. You are the Page of Breath. The Page to Breath. But if this is freedom… what does Breath want from you? You wish you were a Seer.

But you’re no Seer. Barely even a Page. You’re sitting there in your chair like a fool. The clown made a fool of you.

For a moment, you think you might hate him. Then you realize, no, you just want to be free of him. You just want-

And that’s when you get it. You really, actually get it.

“Gamzee,” you say slowly. “I think, there might be, two kinds of freedom.”

“What the motherfuck are you talking about?” he rumbles.

“Yeah, there is… there is freedom to. That’s your kind of freedom. But I think my kind of freedom is freedom from. Which is different. So that’s, I think, what I’m going to do.”

You Breathe.

And they are free.

All of them. The animals, the followers. Free of their burdens. They are free now, of Gamzee. They can do what they want to, really want to, and not just reflexively enact their most base impulses.

You can hear cheering, from below. Or maybe screaming. Maybe applause.

“What the fuck did you do!” roars Gamzee, turning on you.

You stand up. The chair is gone. You do not need to be afraid of him. You are free of your fear.

You spread your wings.

“I think, I’m doing, what I need to do,” you say. “Which is, to say, stop you.”

The wind whistles, and-

------

It is the first time, but not the last, you fight another god openly.

It is the first time, but not the last, you really felt divine.

------

Your planet, at least, died free.

[latitudelongitudegratitudein]

The alter ego I left behind in 2016

Hey boys! Who wants to go on a date with Satan? Come on down.

What would you think if someone offered to set you up on a date with a girl named Satan?  

We’ve all heard about a girl that’s like Satan. She parties hard, drawing boundaries only around the things she has yet to do. She shows up in your life one day with her amazing shoes, brand new convertible, and whispers kinky things into your ear with her raspy voice (just like Elizabeth Hurley in Bedazzled) Who wouldn’t want to make a pact with the devil knowing that doing so would mean having the time of your life?  

Let’s be real though, Satan is one of those “hot mess” girls (View Cobra Starship’s “Hot Mess” music video). A girl that is BFF’S with Ke$ha and vomits glitter for fun. The kind of girl who is a blast to be around but turns out to just be loose cannon after all. A girl whose life is a never ending party, always moving on to the next party, drink, bro.

She has been drunk for so long she can drink virtually anyone under the table, even men and her superpower is being insusceptible to hangovers (take that Batman). Basically, Satan has been avoiding responsibility all her life and is completely out of touch with herself.

Now, would a bro want to hang out with Satan? Hell yeah. Would a nice, responsible guy with a fully vested 401K want to go on a date with Satan? Probably not. Would she be someone they would take seriously? You guessed right. Nope.

Guys don’t want to date let alone “wife up” a girl who they think has seen, been, and experienced everything. Where’s the adventure in that, right? Not saying she has, but she makes it SEEM like it. It’s just the way the world works. Perception is reality.

Unfortunately for Satan, she seems all over the place. A party girl is...Well, let’s just take a trip down definition lane. If you were thinking Merriam-Webster you would be terribly wrong (she wouldn’t even have a shot in hell with Merriam or Webster, even though she runs the place). Say hello to Urban Dictionary:

A girl who will party hard anywhere, even if the party is shit she will get down and get naked. She likes to fuck, usually will either swallow or let you spray it all over her. Also prone to threesomes (including bi), and taking it in the wrong 'un.

A girl who simply likes to party. Every weekend she is seen at a party either drinking, dancing, or mingling. She may go home drunk or completely sober. Commonly associated with being whore, they are usually just 'wild childs', that party hard.

A girl who will hang out and have sex with a guy or guys who are sharing coke, ecstacy, crystal or other drugs with her.

Any female who constantly frequents nightclubs. She is entitled to always have a good time, with little or no responsibilities.

This is the general view the world has of party girls. Not a really good one. Satan is rarely seen as a girl who wants to settle down and change her lifestyle.  She is not the type of girl who gives the impression she could be taken seriously in a relationship. Again perception is reality.

Well, hello there! I am Satan. Ha. Except not all the ideas that are used to define me are true.  I do whisper into people’s ears with my raspy voice (mostly fart jokes), I didn’t develop an immunity to hangovers (still working on a formula). And most importantly, I do wanna settle down.  It seems that I am a lot of things that I am not. I tend to give the wrong impression. I know.  

I will spare you the gruesome details of how I got that nickname...let’s just say it involves many shots, lost shoes, frontal lobe damage, projectile vomit (not mine) and a tiny hat.

Let’s take another little trip. This one is down memory lane so you can understand the evil forces that caused me to be this way. (I say evil forces for dramatic effect don’t go  and think I am part of some weird ass cult). And for all the Satan’s out there, don’t worry there’s hope.

When I was 13 I was a hopeless romantic, I always have, always will be, and don’t let me tell you otherwise. I believed Prince Charming was going to show up one day and take me on a magic carpet ride. (Yeah, I take the carpet over the horse any day. Plus having a tiger pet is cool as shit). You may be thinking “Alright Jasmin, relax!” But really, I believed he would show up, kiss me, and suddenly all the love songs would make perfect sense. (My boo, wherever you will go and I will walk a thousand miles follow). EW. If someone called me boo today I’d barf instantly. On their face. I wouldn’t be sorry.

Needless to say it didn’t happen. The prince flaked on me, found another boo and I remained single for the rest of my life. (With the exception of a two week boyfriend I had. He was a sweet kid but I broke up before I could develop feelings for him). Later on, I realized that I was terrified to bare my heart and soul to anybody. Yeah, I am a living contradiction. I wanted love, the whole shebang but I didn’t want to feel vulnerable. (Maybe the real reason why no one came).

Other than him, no other guy seemed to be genuinely interested in me. Boys noticed my body for the most part. I’d crush on my male friends on a regular basis, just to have them crush on my girl friends (no, I never went to them to confess my love. I’m much more chill than that and my pride wouldn’t have allowed me). They just saw me as their fun friend with a great sense of humor and a “hot” body.

So in my teenagey little brain I got what I thought was the message the universe wanted to send me (let the celestial trumpets blow here). “You are a girl to have fun with, your face isn’t cute but you can use your body. Boys don’t take funny girls like you seriously, they take bodies seriously though, so you might as well go out there and have fun.” And hell broke lose.

I decided that if love wasn’t going to happen to me. I was at least going to have a damned good time. So as a good rebellious millennial I said fuck love, fuck all those love songs, and fuck feeling unwanted.

I choose a bunch of badass bitches from movies and real life who had no fucks to give and I made them my role models. I did my best to model myself after them: Elizabeth Hurley, Angelina Jolie, P!nk, to name a few. I just wanted to be fun, attractive, and detached.  

The thing is that at the end of the movie most of them did end up with the guy and I didn’t, but I didn’t care #thelieswetellourselves.

So I became Satan aka the party girl. I never prostituted myself for any substance, didn’t sleep with any dudes and I definitely never let anyone “spray it all over me”. I don’t judge anyone who has, I did my fare share of very wild things, but I am explaining my version of Satan. I am also explaining myself in case my mom ever reads this, please sympathize. (Sorry Mom).

Ultimately I have hid behind this Satan persona that I created. I tricked myself and built this fake confidence that turned into real confidence (fake it til you make it, right?). Still I always believed I had to rely on my body to get the attention I deserved from bros. A piece of advice that I should take is you get what you think you deserve so never sell yourself short. I slowly became a professional provocateur and flirtist (yeah, I make up words on a regular basis). I mean damn, I would have even flirted with my own shadow if I thought it was a hot bro.

In the love department I crushed on guys who were always unavailable and pushed some nice dudes away. I was too busy filling my kiss chart with strangers from all over the world to be bothered by nice dudes who actually saw right through me and wanted to take Satan out on a date. (I know right? Were they fucking crazy? I took my bad bitch role seriously). I know now that the crazy one was me. Haha (that’s me laughing at myself and the universe and irony).

I maintained this lifestyle for about a decade. Can you imagine how exhausting it was? Take it from me, worse than a 9 to 5. It felt great until it didn’t and then I had to make it great again, as all deals with the devil this lifestyle came with a price. I’m not proud of some of the prices I paid, some price tags included: too much alcohol, drugs, my dignity, my morals, and copious amounts of guilt and shame.

There were many times I felt depressed, lonely, exhausted and I just wanted to have a boyfriend like my friends. No one came and bad bitches are never sad, so I grabbed my tequila, put on mascara, played some house music and got my shit on lock. It didn’t take long till I found the next party. I lived in this vicious cycle.

Oh well, you can’t live in the past. Those days are over now. Now that I have grown a little, I realize I was too busy attracting situations and people that fed the beliefs I had about myself (my Satan self that is). Probably so busy that even if Prince Charming had stopped by with his magic carpet I would have either not noticed or looked the other way.

You may be wondering who hides behind the façade? Well, Hello, it’s still me. I can’t deny the wild and crazy parts of me, but they are not all there is to my identity. I disowned many parts of my authentic self to keep up with the Satan persona.

The parts I disowned never went away, I just never showed them. Qualities people never would attribute as mine but actually are. Like the fact that I am smart and yeah, sometimes I may have shown up drunk or hungover to class throughout high school and college but my grades were great and I NEVER failed a class. I graduated with honors. And even though I am relaxed I am extremely responsible, reliable and organized. It may seem that my life is a mess but I’ve got it more together than anyone thinks.

As an avid reader, I actually read about 10-12 books per year, including some poetry books.I know. Haha. I enjoy museums, playing video games, amusement parks outdoor activities, dirt bikes, go-karts, arcades and spending time around large bodies of water. But I strongly dislike bowling and beer (this should be my online dating profile). The list goes on but I wouldn’t want to bore you.

So yeah there is a lot more than what a person “seems” to be.

In the past year and a half I’d like to think I have grown up a lot, or enough to let myself be more me and less Satany. Also I have been going to therapy for 10 months with a cool, intense, brunette with amazing hair, and a dry sense of humor who sees right through all my bullshit. She makes me get real and raw (raw hurts by the way). She’s helped me expel the forces of evil from my brain, taught me about gratefulness, self-worth, and thanks to her I have gained self-awareness which is one of the most amazing gifts anyone has ever given me.

So let’s reassess yeah?

I am like all humans which means I have strengths, weaknesses, and I am working on myself to keep evolving.

Sometimes it scares me to think that people will never see past Satan, and by people I mean a decent guy (if he saw past Satan) who I could potentially be in a healthy long term relationship with. What If I meet a guy I really like and I inevitably project that image about me? It is really fucking scary and I go on panic mode sometimes...except I am aware. Woke if you will!

It’s not the same panic I have felt since I was 23 and I thought I was going to die forever alone, this one is much milder (like the green salsa). I no longer believe I will die forever alone with 10 cats (I don’t like cats anyways) and I don’t believe that there is something fundamentally wrong with me anymore. I just trust that I will meet someone when it’s the right time and that’s all. I don’t sweat it anymore. I am at peace and for know I enjoy the pleasure of my own fucking company.

When I do meet him, I just want him to see me and not just Satan (maybe Satan in the bedroom...Jk). So yeah I may feel a little worried about that sometimes but then I remember that I am super awesome, I have a bajillion things to offer, and any guy who locks me down should consider himself very lucky. (Yeah, yeah I will be lucky too but this is about me, not him and I haven’t met him yet).

To all the party girls out there, it’s cool to have fun but don’t let Satan become your identity. Don’t trade the good, funky and nerdy parts of yourself to keep this identity you made yourself believe is all there is to you. Remember your real friends and family will always know who you really are and so should you.

PSA: I’m going to repeat this don’t fucking sell yourself short and value yourself enough to walk away from any douche who just wants to “spray it all over you”. This may sound completely platitudinal but whoever you are wherever you are, you are worthy of love and respect. Learn to love yourself, know your value, and don’t put up with anyone who doesn’t.

P.S.S When I wrote this in September I feared that even though I had evolved, guys would always see me as a party girl. Thanks to the 10 guys from the post below I was able to understand what Michelle always told me. It was something like“ Jude, don’t worry. They will see you” ( Not just Satan).

I still worried. She was right, they saw me :)

[componentplanet]

What No Man Has Seen Before: Remastering Deep Space Nine to Maximum Quality

I’m done.

Most stories don’t begin at the ending, but that’s the only place to start this one. I’ve been working to remaster Deep Space Nine for the past nine months, ever since AI-based video upscaling software began to hit the market. After I saw how much improvement could be wrung out of some old MKVs, I decided I’d start over, using the original, superior, Deep Space Nine DVD source. Nine months later, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do: Create a method of remastering and upscaling Deep Space Nine that didn’t rely on hand-combing episodes to fine-tune deinterlacing algorithms while compromising on image quality to the smallest extent reasonably possible. I’ll be demonstrating the results all throughout this article.

I have created a 23.976 progressive version of Deep Space Nine, codenamed Rio Grande. While I have not yet checked the method against the entire show, it worked well on test episodes from S2, S4, S5, and S6. Special thanks to Cyril Niderprim, who found the hilariously simple solution below, and a pox on the small mountain of more complicated scripts I’d written. While Rio Grande is capable of throwing errors — I have included an example of such — there’s an alternative if it tangles up an episode in a way you don’t like.

I have also achieved an identical-quality 59.94 fps conversion, codenamed Orinoco. Orinoco preserves motion correctly in all scenes and is included here as an insurance policy. While it matches Rio Grande on quality, it packs 2.5x the frames and takes 2.5x as long to process and upscale. Rio Grande should work — but if it doesn’t, Orinoco will. If either of these methods proves insufficient to deal with an episode, we’ll come up with a custom way of handling it and I’ll wind up writing something about it and/or updating this article to keep track of special cases.

I’ve done a couple renders of the credits to showcase two different AI upscaling models Topaz offers: Theia Detail (at default settings) and Gaia-CG. Gaia-CG is below:

This article is not a step-by-step tutorial on how to perform this process suitable for literally anyone to follow. That will be its own project. I will, however, provide enough information that anyone with a passing knowledge of AviSynth should be able to recreate both approaches.

Theia-Detail credits below:

There’s a missing bit of frame for several seconds when the Bajoran freighter is panning around the station. This is a unique error — I’ve never seen it anywhere else on the show — and it pops up a lot, nearly regardless of what filters you use to adjust an episode. It’s always unique to the credits; you don’t need to worry about random blocks of content missing from the sides of your video.

Maximum Warp

Rio Grande and Orinoco make as few compromises on image quality as is reasonably possible. Every aspect of this process is designed to preserve detail at the deliberate cost of hard drive space until the final encode, at which point you can be as lossy as you like.

All of the clips you’ll see below were encoded in 0.0 H.264 until losslessly upscaled frame-by-frame. I encoded these clips in H.265 at a CRF of 6, which turned out to be ludicrous overkill. Live and learn. There’s a freeze-frame, just-noticeable quality difference between CRF 14 and CRF 20, while 25 is pretty ugly.

Upscaler Models: Avoid Artemis, 200 Percent Upscales

I’ve encoded at least one example of every upscaler mode Topaz offers except for Artemis-LQ and Artemis-HQ. These algorithms are completely unsuited to Deep Space Nine, and while they no longer produce literal garbage output when run against the show, they do not react well to its content. Consider them fundamentally unsuited to the task. I don’t care for Gaia-HQ’s output against DS9 very much, though I included one example below. That leaves the two Theia models and Gaia-CG.

I’ve always preferred Gaia-CG, so that’s what the majority of the encodes are in, though I’ve also showcased the Theia algorithm family. The Theia models offer tunable parameters for noise, sharpness, and detail recovery, and these can be very useful if you’re attempting to denoise an ugly patch of wall or carpet.

The 200 percent upscale option should be avoided. It creates errors that were not originally present in the source in some cases and it offers meaningfully reduced image quality compared to the 400 percent version. Be advised that the repair process has a habit of creating a seam down the left or right side of the image frame — you can crop it out with no trouble, but it’s something to be considered.

Topaz offers the option to upscale losslessly by image or via lossy MP4. All of the upscale videos you’ll see here are lossless PNG conversions.

How Much Additional Detail Did I Recover?

The idea that sent me haring off on this mad quest was that I could extract additional visual data if I returned to the source DVD rather than relying on old backup files. Here’s an example of my best upscale in January:

That was then.

While some of these improvements come from low-level improvements to the AI upscalers themselves, the upscaler has to be able to lock on to enough information to upscale an image without making hash of it. Imagine a screenshot where everything was rendered at DVD resolution except for Odo’s hair, which was done in 4K. It would look odd, to say the least. The more detailer the upscaler can get its hands on, the better the chance it creates something gorgeous on the back end. Going back to the DVDs gave the upscaler more to work with in the final process.

This is now.

As a reminder of how far we’ve come: The following three screenshots are the Defiant as it appears on the native DVD, the best upscale result I could achieve in early February, and my current best result today:

The Defiant in all her DVD glory. At least it beats Netflix. Let’s see what we can do.

February, 2020: It’s a big improvement, but I believed better was possible.

That’s more like it. Image from Orinoco encode.

Here’s my favorite Defiant shot from the entire show. I was really proud of how this turned out in April. It’s still quite nice.

I still like the way this came out, but it’s not the best we can do.

This is one place where I’m obviously getting help from a tweaked AI upscaler model. Better processing might clean up the model a bit differently, but some of the features on the hull are slightly different shapes. This image benefits from a side-by-side comparison to the other at maximum resolution.

The gains are real. Every time I compare an upscale based on the old MKV files I’d created years ago against the benefit of going back to the DVD, the DVD wins. If you want the best version of Deep Space Nine, invest in the DVD set.

So How Good is It?

With careful processing and good upscaling, it’s possible to give Deep Space Nine a clarity that I think approaches that of what’s typically referred to as “HD” content, though it’s still limited to the NTSC color gamut as opposed to later standards like Rec. 709. At its worst — allowing for some deviations from perfection — it’ll still look like the best damn DVD you’ve ever seen. At its best — and I consider the shot of Sisko up there to be one of the best — I’d argue that he, at least, comes across in HD levels of detail.

The processing steps I’ve used repair some baked-in damage to the source, but not all of it. There’s a frame sequence in “The Way of the Warrior” that literally looks as though something was spilled on the film, and that’s not something I know how to fix. All of the encodes below are from Rio Grande.

Way of the Warrior: It’s No Illusion

“The Way of the Warrior” contains two of the best battle scenes of Season 4. In the first, Sisko takes the Defiant to rescue a Cardassian ship under heavy fire from the Klingons. You can see the VFX team experimenting with what amounts to an over-shoulder kill cam — not exactly the kind of thing Next Generation was known for. It’s obvious the VFX teams had a lot of fun with the Defiant.

The second major battle scene of the episode is below. There’s an excellent callback to an event from the show’s pilot, when Kira attempts to bluff a squadron of Cardassian warships into believing the station is far better armed than it actually is.

This time around, things go differently. Upscaled in Theia Fidelity first, at default settings, followed by Gaia-CG. Gaia-CG is what I’ve used for screenshots in the past:

I’ve included clips of normal human interaction in this article specifically to illustrate that these processing techniques don’t just work on starships and battle scenes. Deep Space Nine is about far more than just CGI combat — it just happens to have some really great examples of the latter, particularly by late-90s standards. Gaia-CG below:

Paradise Lost

The Defiant takes on the Lakota in this battle scene. Elements of Starfleet were in the process of slow-walking a coup attempt. This clip deliberately shows what happens when Rio Grande doesn’t get a scene entirely right. While this shot mostly works, it’s noticeably jerky at the end. I’ve confirmed that this only affects Rio Grande — Orinoco plays back perfectly smoothly in this situation. If the small amount of jerk doesn’t bother you, Rio Grande is your oyster. If it does, try Orinoco.

Far Beyond the Stars

One of the benefits of science fiction is that it allows creators to play fast and loose with the question of time travel. Here, Benjamin Sisko is flung back into the 1950s — at least, in his own mind — and finds himself face to face with the ugly racial politics of the era. Upscaled in Gaia-CG:

In the Pale Moonlight

The greatest episode of Deep Space Nine concludes with a chilling soliloquy. Upscaled in Gaia-CG:

The same scene, rendered in Theia Detail at 10 percent sharpening, 20 percent noise reduction, and 20 percent detail recovery.

Sacrifice of Angels

Y’all knew we’d be back to this episode, right? In First Fleet (below, rendered in Gaia-CG), the Federation closes to battle with the advance forces of the Cardassian / Dominion military. I quite like the Galaxy-class maneuvers that bookend the clip. The Galaxy-class often looked fat and ungainly from certain angles, while others showed it to great effect. It gets more of the latter and less of the former on DS9 than it did on TNG.

This initial engagement doesn’t provide the opening the Defiant needs in and of itself. Starfleet decides to try and force a breach through enemy lines, even though they’re outnumbered, 2:1. This is the scene I chose to render in a number of different ways. First, Gaia-CG:

Next, here’s Gaia-CG at CRF=20. The quality loss is modest here, but I don’t recommend going much higher. The problem with starting from DVD source is that there’s not a lot of detail to lose before quality starts suffering, and the interpolated/upscaled information is only just so good to start with. When you start pushing the quality downwards past a certain point, it drops like a rock. CRF=25 is way too high. I wouldn’t go lower than 20.

Gaia-HQ:

Theia Detail, default settings:

And finally, Theia Fidelity, at 20 percent sharpness, 30 percent detail recovery, and 20 percent noise reduction settings:

Although I’ve chosen to focus on the later seasons of the show, this encoding and upscaling method works on the early seasons, too. Just keep in mind that the actual source material for the early seasons isn’t as good as what we got in later years.

That concludes the demonstration portion of today’s program. Now, let’s talk about implementation.

How to Encode Rio Grande

To encode using Rio Grande, rip the DVD using DVD Decrypter and generate a D2V index file using DGIndex or an equivalent tool of your choice. Next, fire up whatever AviSynth front-end you use, if you use one at all. I use StaxRip, personally.

The AviSynth script is as follows:

TFM() TDecimate() QTGMC2 = QTGMC(Preset=”Very Slow”, SourceMatch=3, InputType=2, Lossless=2, MatchEnhance=0.75, Sharpness=0.5, MatchPreset=”Very Slow”, MatchPreset2=”Very Slow”) QTGMC3 = QTGMC(preset=”Very Slow”, inputType=3, prevGlobals=”Reuse”) Repair(QTGMC2, QTGMC3, 9)

That’s it. You also have the option to inject some noise back into the video in the process of running these scripts — season to taste, basically. Noise added to one of the QTGMC runs will still come through after repair. While Rio Grande isn’t 100 percent frame-perfect, it works perfectly on all but one of the 29.97 fps scenes I’ve tested against. If it proves to have more issues than anticipated, we’ll modify it — and that’s where Orinoco comes in. Technically, it’s possible to render this specific scene at 59.94 fps and then include it in the 23.976 fps version by assembling a VFR file when you compile your image sequence back into video. I might explore this in a future update.

The QTGMC runs above are required to achieve the improved visuals, and while I’m completely open to alternatives, nothing I’ve ever tried comes anywhere close to what this script can do. You can tune the above script for strength and processing time, but you’ll notice the quality hit from stepping down to “Slow” from “Very Slow” and “Medium” is unsuited to the task. If you like your content noisy and you don’t mind more combing artifacts (or have a different solution for dealing with them), “Slow” may be a better option.

The one downside to running QTGMC this way is that it can occasionally produce a small ripple in one part of a scene. I find it trivial to ignore and the only solutions I’ve found for it so far cause far more damage than the ripple itself. While I’d like to get rid of it, it’s currently a tolerated “feature.”

Defiant, rounding the station.

The “InputType=2” and “InputType=3” sequences are essential. Running a single QTGMC instance will not produce the same effect. Running two instances of “InputType=2” will not achieve the same effect. There are nine potential ways to combine input types in a repair run like this and I’ve tested every single one of them. The “2,3” combination is what works the best, from “Emissary” to “What You Leave Behind.”

Similarly, I’ve tested all 25 functional “Repair” modes AviSynth supports. You want ,9. If you don’t like that output for whatever reason, try ,1. Most of the others didn’t have much of an impact one way or the other, though a few of them broke content in interesting ways. I’ve revisited them more than once when testing new filters, just to see how final output varied by mode.

If you have suggestions on how to improve output quality further, by all means, drop me a line.

How to Encode Orinoco

Orinoco is not simple, but it works far better than I feel like I had any right to expect.

For starters, we’re creating two files, not just one. Encode your first version of your target episode using the following script:

TDeint(mode=1, type=2, tryweave=true, mtnmode=3, full=false, ap=10, aptype=2, slow=2)

This script orders TDeint to produce doubled frame output, to perform kernel interpolation, to attempt to repair a frame by weaving if the result is fewer combing artifacts than deinterlacing would create, and to only deinterlace interlaced frames. This preserves the progressive frames baked into the NTSC source. Type=5 was the only option that came close to Type=2 in overall image quality, and the bi-directional blending Type=5 introduces causes more frame blending issues at scene boundaries. Type 5 occasionally fixes a problem in Type 2, but it causes them far more often than it repairs them.

Now we set this clip aside and turn our attention to the other. Run the following script against your second clip:

QTGMC2 = QTGMC(Preset=”Very Slow”, SourceMatch=3, Lossless=2, MatchEnhance=0.75, Sharpness=0.5, MatchPreset=”Very Slow”, MatchPreset2=”Very Slow”) QTGMC3 = QTGMC(preset=”Very Slow”, prevGlobals=”Reuse”) Repair(QTGMC2, QTGMC3, 9)

While similar, this script is not identical to the script we used for Rio Grande. Rio Grande’s QTGMC implementation is run in progressive mode. For Orinoco, we want to double the frame rate, bringing our base 29.97fps up to 59.94fps. Now that QTGMC and TDeint are at the same frame rate, we run a repair against them, too. If you run two clips in “Repair” mode at two different frame rates, it’ll work… ish. You’ll know if you’ve done this if you’ve got a weird seam migrating across your video.

This is a bass-ackwards approach to video editing, at least as far as I’m aware, but there’s a method to my madness. The reason people don’t typically just inject a bunch of frames to bring VFR 23.976 / 29.97 content up to 59.94fps is that the process the interpolated and blended frames that boost the frame rate can also create visual errors and other problems. This creates a catch-22: Leave those frames out, and the single-rate output is choppy. Keep them in, and some of your scene boundary changes are going to look decidedly odd as a fireball mushrooms from someone’s head, or two completely different locations are blended together. It’s not a great situation.

But there’s a way to fix the problem.

clip1=FFVideoSource(“C:\DS9S6D2\Sacrifice-TDeint.mkv”) clip2=FFVideoSource(“C:\DS9S6D2\Sacrifice-QTGMC-ToPairWithTDeint.mkv”) Repair(clip1, clip2, 9)

The reason we create the interpolated QTGMC file is to serve as a sharp, clean source against the Sacrifice-TDeint file. The reason I used QTGMC for this is that — as I’ve said before — I’ve never found an equivalent method for creating clean footage. If you want less noise in your video, use “Very Slow” or “Slow” as an alternative. I do not recommend “Medium” for this purpose.

You can run QTGMC against this output again if you want, but the footage will start to look a bit overprocessed. The Theia models can compensate for this to some extent, thanks to a fairly effective (and tuneable) denoise algorithm. There are multiple examples of Theia models in the videos below.

Quality-wise, Orinoco and Rio Grande get you to the same place and I often cannot tell the difference between them when I compare them frame-by-frame (not counting interpolated frames, obviously). Rio Grande is to be preferred — it’s faster and simpler — but I cannot guarantee that it’ll work on all 176 episodes of the show. If you run into an episode with erratic or stuttering motion when its created via Rio Grande, try Orinoco as an alternative and let me know you’ve hit a snag.

Flaws and Shortcomings

Orinoco and Rio Grande are not perfect. I’m still hunting for a method of eliminating the ripple. Small as it is, it’s basically the one problem left (so far!) that I haven’t solved. The best method I’ve come up with so far involves using MCTemporalDenoise, and MCTD appears to be both entirely single-threaded and causes me other headaches in terms of source quality.

If you want to experiment with MCTemporalDenoise, I’d recommend using up to seven pixels but applying a relatively weak effect (strength 2-3). This will not completely eliminate it, but it helps in certain places. If you don’t like the impact this has on your visual quality, investigate the Theia upscaling models and try applying 10-20 percent noise reduction. While you don’t want to go nuts, you can lightly smooth away some defects. I don’t like using one filter just to squash problems another creates, and with any luck Orinoco won’t be needed in the first place.

While my goal has always been to create a one-size-fits-all template for this project, I’ll record any adjustments or changes that need to be made to Rio Grande or Orinoco to deal with problematic episodes, unless that episode is Move Along Home.

Next Time on… the Deep Space Nine Upscale Project

Now that I’ve finished this project, I get to actually start ripping episodes and encoding them. I’m going to write a set of tutorials that give an actual guide to how this works, build a benchmark for workstations, and solve any per-episode problems that need fixing. I’ve come up with a completely free method of upscaling that, while not as good as Topaz, presents a genuine improvement. I also want to look into PAL.

ViacomCBS doesn’t think Deep Space Nine is worth remastering. I say it’s wrong. There’s a limited amount of improvement we can squeeze from a DVD, which is why you don’t see me referring to the show as “4K” or “UHD”, even though it’s common to see those terms tossed around in projects like this. You can upscale Deep Space Nine to 4K resolution, but there’s no way (yet) to squeeze 4K quality out of a DVD source file. This is an imperfect solutions — but it’s light-years beyond any previous version of the show that’s ever existed. If it turns out that Rio Grande does throw more than very occasional 23.976 fps errors, we’ll find a solution for those episodes. There’s every indication that Nvidia’s upcoming GeForce RTX 3080 is going to make this kind of upscaling much faster, which will reduce the pain of a 59.94 conversion.

After today, no Star Trek fan has to wait for ViacomCBS to decide it makes financial sense to invest in its own back catalog. It’ll cost some money for the DVDs and the software, and a lot of compute time to get the work done (8-10 hours per episode on an RTX 2080 at 23.976, 2.5x longer at 59.94fps). Will most people do this? No. Most people will watch the show on Netflix, where the quality is much lower than what they’d get on DVD.

But as of today, nobody has to do that again. As of today, you can see the work of the VFX artists and actors who created in this show the way it was meant to be seen. Orinoco and Rio Grande aren’t perfect, but they illustrate just how much additional quality can be wrung from late-90s DVD source. GPUs are getting faster. AI upscalers are getting smarter. Even if the computer or GPU you own today isn’t capable of tackling a project like this, your next one very well might be.

May the Prophets guide you,

Hruska out.

I owe thank-yous to Stan Pennington, Gary Huff — man, Gary, I probably owe you a hearing aid — Cyril Niderprim, Robert Hallock, Andrew Swan, David Berry, Dan Greeney, Mark Renoden, the folks at Black Magic, my long-suffering fiancée who has listened to me talk about this topic for most of a year and contributed insights at numerous points, Ben Carter, Joe Robinson, multiple helpful individuals at Doom9, and a lot of other people. If I forgot names, I’m sorry. If you helped me, thank you. Most of all, thank you to the talented actors and artists who created Deep Space Nine in the first place. 

Now Read:

DS9 Upscale Project Update: What I’ve Been Working On

Deep Space Nine Upscale Project Season Finale: What We’ve Brought Ahead

Deep Space Nine Upscale Project (DS9UP): Technical Goals and FAQ

from ExtremeTechExtremeTech https://www.extremetech.com/extreme/314653-remastering-deep-space-nine from Blogger http://componentplanet.blogspot.com/2020/09/what-no-man-has-seen-before-remastering.html