#I know about all of his children’s afflictions for no real reason

[reality-schmality]

I have done nearly no work at all in the last week because I cannot focus for the life of me and it’s baaaaaaaaaad.

My period has gone completely off the rails and my hormones are all over the map. I’m overwhelmingly depressed and crying at the drop of a hat and just I can’t function.

[yallemagne]

Van Helsing, I love you, I am sorry, I have read this book several times over, I know all that has happened and will happen, and I still have trouble believing your bullshit---

First up, JONATHAN!!! My babygirl is BACK, and I love to hear his voice. He's filled with new energy but there is still that shakiness, that anxiety. The firm certainly mixed with the moments of fear and reflection aghh.

Van Helsing's preaching about Mina is so patronizing I want to slap him, oh my god. He is earnest, but lauding Mina as some heavenly symbol is just... bad news. No one can place someone on a pedestal that high while also regarding them as a human being and not an idol. Van Helsing adores her, but he still has yet to respect her.

VH: "Madam Mina told you against my orders?? And you are not dead??"

Jonathan: "Oh, actually, maybe the stress of not knowing and forcing myself to ignore the signs around me was really bad for my health. If it went on any longer, I probably could have worried myself to death."

VH: "Hahaha... you tell me... that secrecy meant to protect can harm instead?"

Jonathan: "Yep."

VH: "I MUST TELL FRIEND JOHN BEFORE HE HAVE THE STROKE!!"

Jack sounds more shaky than ever. The uncertainty that plagued Jonathan but is gone now has been afflicting Jack instead, but he does not acknowledge it. It doesn't help that Van Helsing...

Lissen. He's taking his first baby steps into being fully honest with Jack. And by that I mean he burst into Jack's asylum, shoved a newspaper in his face, and proceeded to scold him for not being into spiritualism. I don't blame Jack a single second for his difficulty.

Little tangent: THAT ISN'T HOW VAMPIRE BATS WORK YOU FUCKKER. Have you SEEN how tiny they are? A vampire bat would sooner balloon up and POP before it could drain the blood from a grown man's veins. What you have to worry about with vampire bat bites is rabies or infection not fuckinogn complete exsanguination, you madman. Jack doesn't know about bats, of course, but I DO and I might not know about parrots or GIANT SPIDERS IN SPANISH CHURCHES, BUT I DO KNOW BATS. Vampire bats are tiny. The absolute biggest bats in the New World don't drink blood, they eat birds and rodents and smaller bats. VH, stop shit-talking real bats.

That aside.

He berates Jack for doubting before Jack has even had the chance to doubt. Part of the reason Jack hasn't come to the conclusion that it is vampires... isn't that he's written it off as impossible. It's that he doesn't know what the fuck vampires are. And VH doesn't even bother to say the word vampire. He accuses Jack's dead friend of attacking young children before he even explains the concept of vampires.

Jack presuming that the creepy mortician stole Lucy's body is a reasonable conclusion with the information he has. The idea that Lucy has risen from the grave and is biting children now is NOT A REASONABLE CONCLUSION WITH THE INFORMATION HE HAS.

Van Helsing knew that Jack would have a hard time believing. He knew, so he tried to prime Jack's brain for the mic drop, but sir, spouting a bunch of urban legends about immortality and blood-drinking and then saying "I just need you to blindly believe me" is not good priming. It's just not it, chief.

"I didn't want to hurt you with the reveal, hence why I yelled at you about science and spiritualism and parrots for like eight minutes before finally getting to the point and accusing your dead crush of abducting and harming children."

There was a better way to go about telling Jack, Van Helsing. I don't know what it is. All I know is that you have gone about it in possibly the worst way, and you are not allowed to be annoyed with Jack for even a second, you mad lad. You made your bed, now sleep in it.

[demonslayedher]

I've seen some interesting AUs where Ubuyashiki and Muzan have switched roles (the former is now the demon king while the latter is the head of the demon slayer corps, how different do you think would demonkind and the demon slayer corps be under their respective leaderships?

I feel like I've seen a lot of good takes on this, especially in ones where Muzan is the good guy but still treats his staff just as poorly, and I feel like my take isn't necessary to add. But I'll think as I go!

--I do find it really funny if the stress of trying to eliminate the demons, a very noble cause which is difficult to achieve, makes Muzan prone to expressing disappointment and lashing out. It would add a whole new touch of gravity to the Demon Slayer Corp.

--Not that I think Muzan would kill anybody due to his frustration. The point is to stop all the slaughter of humans, he will stay his hand if it's the last thing he does. He's popping veins trying to keep himself under control, though.

--As all the takes I recall seeing also have the demons as Demon Slayers and the humans as demons, I'm going to keep this one with only a swap in Muzan & Kagaya. Everyone else remains the same.

--Kagaya is delightfully nonchalant about his evil. The demons are his besties, and this is what they have to do master the sun, it's for everyone's good! And the fact that the Demon Slayer Corp keeps killing his demons makes him very upset.

--Going back in their histories, the doctor died before finishing treating Kagaya because oops, Kagaya was in a blind rage of hunger and ate him. He couldn't help himself on the first people, and made his first demon as a companion, but then felt bad when that demon couldn't go in the the sunlight either, and so he made it his mission to try to find a way to heal demons of the sunlight affliction... but for that, he'd need more demons!

--He changes people into demons out of compassion. Tamayo wanted to live longer? Ok, as a former sick person he understands that! Kokushibo didn't his sword forms to die with him? Ok, fixable! Hakuji was a sad, sad human with nothing to live for? Ok, let's give him purpose!

--Muzan, on the others hand, ha-a-a-t-e-s being sick and takes it personally. He feels personally slighted by Kagaya for having a long life like he stole it from him and all his ancestors. Oh, and being upset that Kagaya's demons are killing humans? Yeah, I guess, if that's reason enough for Muzan's strong fighters to serve loyally in the Corp then he'll respect that.

--Muzan with his family: Amane is loyal and smart, he likes her. The children generally please him well enough. Kind of disgusting how frail they all are as family, though.

--Muzan & Rengoku: Kyojuro has been raised with generations and generations of family respect for the Ubuyashikis, so he's sympathetic to Muzan's struggles and outbursts. He's also careful to please his master, for he knows his father is in bad graces, as Muzan has once lashed out about understanding the frustration but not accepting that as reason to retire (if Muzan is stuck with this mission, Shinjuro is too). Muzan was tempted to call for Shinjuro's execution but Amane dissuaded him on account to the damage it would do in relations with the Rengoku clan. Muzan finds Kyojuro an acceptably obedient and useful Pillar.

--Muzan & Uzui: Uzui feels more drawn to the noble cause of the Corp than to Muzan personally, but with his history, he's good at adapting to a demanding master. He understands the reasons for Muzan's strictness as coming from a good place, so he bites his lip and accepts Muzan as a master. Muzan finds Uzui super annoying but has no real problem with him.

--Muzan & Shinobu: He gets along with her and finds her viciousness behind the smiles amusing. They spend a lot of time together with Shinobu trying to find whatever way she can to to extend Muzan's life. Shinobu has deep respect for Muzan.

--Muzan & Mitsuri: He finds her super annoying but ugh, if he's willing to serve the cause for whatever asinine reason, he'll allow it. Mitsuri is kind of very afraid of him but determined to do her best to please him.

--Muzan & Muichiro: Bringing him in was Amane's idea, Muzan didn't see any point in bringing in children, and when Yuichiro first no, his only response to Amane's report was 'ok.' But Amane kept going, and then brought back a half-dead kid, and Muzan was like, '...really?' abd then when Muichiro stepped into his abilities and Amane is just, silently gesturing at Muichiro, Muzan, as a rarity, admits he was wrong. He then takes a liking to Muichiro for his abilities. He likes that he's quiet. He likes him less once he's less quiet. Muichiro's bond is more with Amane than Muzan, whom he doesn't have strong feelings about one way or another.

--Muzan & Giyuu: Giyuu is a dependable Water Pillar who doesn't cause drama, and Muzan likes it that way. Tanjiro is totally on his own for recognizing that Giyuu needs outreach, because Muzan sure isn't sending him. Giyuu has a normal Pillar level of respect for Muzan and his noble efforts.

--Muzan & Himejima: Muzan did get him out of jail because he looked useful, and Himejima simply accepted the new mission he was given in life. Muzan, if anything, impacted Himejima by encouraging him to embrace that darkness of betrayal and hatred for all the horror demons cause, and so we get goth!Himejima in this version instead of monk!Himejima and I now I kinda need this.

--Muzan & Sanemi: When Sanemi started back-talking at the Pillar meeting, Muzan lashed out at him and scared him to his core, it wasn't a matter of simple violence like his father or the demons he had faced, but he touched a sore spot about Muzan's illness and how it prevents him from being able to do more. Sanemi has respect for that and lives him shame for having said those words and he's always extremely careful not to cause offense to Muzan thereafter. Muzan therefore finds him easy to work with. When Nezuko needed to be stabbed indoors, Sanemi did ask and wait for permission, and Muzan granted it.

--Muzan & Tanjiro: Tanjiro has respect for what he's trying to do, but doesn't have respect for how Muzan goes about running the Corp and in a way that makes people fear him. He calls Muzan out about that after the whole Nezuko-on-display thing, and Muzan doesn't like him but makes it clear in front of all the Pillars that his very, very, very good reasons for letting Tanjiro & Nezuko live are because they have encountered Kagaya and might be useful in exposing Kagaya so they can finally kill him. This is reason enough for the Pillars and Tanjiro has more of an uphill battle in befriending the Pillars because of it.

--Kagaya & Tamayo & Yoriichi: Tamayo is very, very weak to the sound of Kagaya's voice, so much so that she could never speak against him, like expressing her deep rage for how being a demon made her kill her husband and children. When Yoriichi meets Kagaya, he's not affected by Kagaya's voice and sees through how Kagaya doesn't actually value human life if it means accomplishing his goals for the demons. Kagaya admits some sacrifices must be made, they fight (which has never posed any threat to Kagaya, and he's stepped in to defend his demons many, many times), but this is the first time Kagaya has been brought down a peg. He sees he's about to die, but for the sake of accomplishing his goal to perfect the demons, he pulls the old flesh!explosion maneuver and gets away. This finally leaves Tamayo able to open her mouth and scream all her rage at him.

--Kagaya & Kokushibo: Kokushibo finds Kagaya's personal concern for him awkward. A master needn't concern themselves with the wellbeing of a samurai. Still, Kagaya compliments his committed to his swordsmanship, and later names the Twelve Moon in Kokushibo's honor. Kokushibo's is crying from all six eyeballs.

--Kagaya & Douma: They get along like buddies. Kagaya is flattered that Douma wishes to make him the god of his cult. Douma is immune to the effects of Kagaya's voice, but it's not necessary for keeping someone like Douma in line. Still, Douma knows he's in trouble when Kagaya gently chastises him for a lack of results and admits he's been too soft on the demons he has the highest hopes for.

--Kagaya & Akaza: AKAZA IS FIERCELY PROTECTIVE OF THIS MAN, GRRRRR and so emotional and weak at the slightest reprimand

--Kagaya & Nakime: He praises her for good work and Nakime is super, super, super weak to his voice. He blushes all the way to her fingertips and finds it difficult to keep controlling her blood technique.

--Kagaya & Hantengu: Instead of "fear", the character on Hantengu's tongue is "adoration." As Kagaya has wound up giving him more confidence over the years, this ironically makes Hantengu a weaker demon.

--Kagaya & Gyokko: Gyokko looooooves it when Kagaya compliments his pots. He spends too much time making art for Kagaya and not enough time looking for the Blue Spider Lily, which Kagaya must chastise him for. That tends to bounce right off Gyokko, though, he's just so excited that Kagaya is talking to him.

--Kagaya & Daki & Gyutaro: He's like the papa they never knew they needed and they are fiercely loyal to him. Like all the demons, he seems them as his children. He expresses sympathy for their tricky line of work among so many humans and admires their fortitude.

--Kagaya & Kaigaku: Kaigaku is totally overtaken with desire to serve this demon as soon as he meets him and is welcomed by him and recognized for his strength.

--Kagaya & Lower Moons: He is nice and they love him.

In the end: Kagaya was honestly surprised Tamayo hated him so much. After all, she never said anything about it to him and he's not been able to read her thoughts all this time. It also makes him really sad as each of his demons fall, so it is with a heavy heart that he must pick up the task of eliminating the demon slayers himself, once and for all. It's a desperate battle, and in asking Kamado Tanjiro to accept his wish, Tanjiro is dangerously sympathetic to that wish and almost chooses to remain a demon until the ghosts of his family and fellow Corp members kick him out instead of gently helping him rise.

Muzan was close to death but not at all willing to sacrifice his own life. It was through pure desire to live that he pulls through through Kagaya perishes, thereby finally breaking his curse. It takes him a long, long time, but he eventually recovers and enjoys his riches.

Retirement salaries? Psssh, why? The swordsmen got what they wanted, demons are gone. The Corp's disbanded, he owes them nothing. Amane disapproves but oh well, alls well that ends well, kind of.

[weepingalaxy]

Hello I am asking for ool!Lalna lore 👀👀👀

hi its 4 am and im in a lot of pain so im writing this in a feverish state but i hope you understand how important it was for me to respond on the account of you activating my trap card (letting me infodump about my dnd character)

SO!! for a bit of preamble, he’s from a dnd campaign called Out Of Loop, dm’d by the fantastic @yogsbog !! its based on completely original lore while using a lot of yogs characters within it to populate the world while also being core parts of said lore. an example would be strife solutions tower being a prominent place within the city of evergrove, the “main hub” of sorts for the campaign. strife is even possibly our bbeg, which is fun

for a bit of context, the story so far is that we are all displaced in time through things called The Rifts, holes in spacetime that can lead to basically anywhere and anytime. the party is working together to close these Loops the rifts create, since as it stands, anyone and anythinh can come through these rifts and wreak havoc where they shouldnt. plus the rifts themselves are getting more and more unstable, so who knows whatd happen if they were left alone for too long?

my fellow players in the party in question are @strifesolution and @irished-lads !! the first, emma, playing her original character Scarlet Areleven, a parvill fankid oc whos the heart of the group and part of the reason the partys so kind to people they meet. the second, van/vanilla, plays Xaiden Lazulite, a mysterious elven man who is definitely not based on xephos no sir he is so very different. he’s more of a protector, and the other part of why their party is kind. or, for him at least, why the party Refuses to Kill Humanoids.

then there’s lalna! or, his real name, Layne Lockwood. that’s my character! he’s very complicated and kind of an emotional wreck of a bastard. and also the guy you asked about! so let me give you the rundown on the lore about him even my fellow players know :3

cw: child neglect and abuse, possession, dismembered limbs, gore, death

it’s a bit hard to know whee to start with him, but i guess i’ll go in chronological order with him! and ill do it in an easy to digest list as well

layne lockwood is the youngest child in a family of four, being thalion lockwood (father), clara lockwood (mother), and lomadia lockwood (older sister). thalion is a half elf, while the rest are all human. they lived in a smaller suburban town called East Maple

thalion found a rift inside their own home and begun to study it, with layne often coming into the office just to pretend to read along even from a young age. this turned out to be a mistake, as something came out of the rift and almost SLAMMED into layne, but disappeared out of sight as it did so. this shook up thalion so badly he figured the only safe way to continue his research and to find a cure for this strange new affliction layne has that keeps making him act wildly different, was to go through the rift himself, abandoning his family in hopes of one day coming back to fix everything

meanwhile clara, overworked, stressed, angry, and betrayed by her husband, was left alone with her children when she already didnt have the time for them. laynes strange behaviour was waved off as simply him causing problems, but after a terrifying encounter with the boy, ended with her locking him up in his room for good. he was only eight years old, and was taught from then on he’s something to be feared.

lomadia did what she could for layne, reading books about homeschooling kids and teaching him survival skills shes picked up on herself. he survived almost exclusively on the food she offered him and taught him to make himself (ususlly dried meats). shes all layne had during that time

well, not all.

layne heard a new voice in his head after that day, a voice of someone with no name other than one given on a whim: Livid. livid is a devil from the nine hells, the Something that left the rift, and the soul still possessing him to this day. when lomadia was busy, it was livid speaking to him or pulling at him to influence his actions towards violence. layne didnt understand, but they were his only friend.

when layne was 14, when his mother’s neglect was at its worst, he would finally give in to his friend’s suggestions. after endlessly working to break down the door keeping him locked up, he searched the house in a daze before reaching the kitchen, and grabbing a knife.

that evening was a blur, with layne only realizing what he’d done after the act. he saw his mother lying on the kitchen floor, having been dragged there by himself, with several stabwounds in her chest. layne doesnt think. he breaks a nearby window, and escapes into the forests that surround them, never to be seen again

an unknown amount of time is passed, a wild young blonde reaching a large abandoned office building in the outskirts of Evergrove. he decides to call it home, and with time and growing up needing to learn everything by hand, looting trash and stealing what wont be missed, he develops the office building into his lovingly called Tower. this is where he continues to live and develop until hes reached far past his mid 20s, though his exact age is unknown.

this is where he takes on the name of Lalna, a way for him to further disconnect from his past completely, and live on his own without anyone finding him. without anyone knowing hes still alive

alone

again.

… aside from his little brain buddy, of course. who, with time, has manifested more and more as a visual hallucination for him, too. a slender, staunch figure, as pale as lalna, with dusty blonde hair just like his, but with barbed chains and sunken eyes.

its also in the tower that he lost his right arm! he cut it off himself after livid toyed with him, made him see some form of black ink spilling from a long slit along the arm with an infection spreading in it. lalna panicked, and without thinking, removed it in a haze with a laser cutter he made himself. he then had to create a new one for himself, connecting with the help of magic, and giving him full control of his limb again

he still keeps that lopped off arm in a jar, just in case. and for emotional support

… and thats the last bit of what happened to him before the start of the campaign! that the party knows about, anyway. theres more but :3 secrets.. i hope this was an enjoyable read!!! lalna has been on the hunt for the rest of his family for a while, too, specifically his father as he genuinely believed he had killed lomadia too (but he didnt! shes still out there! hooray!) and he found him!! wow isnt that crazy! anyway yeah im insane over this guy is that at all clear yet

thank you for showing interest, im sorry for how melodramatic it is <3

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part vi

There wasn’t any particular moment in which Basil finally realized that the curse wasn’t real.

There was no sudden clarity, no revelation, nothing he could pinpoint as before and after. It was just the slow, gradual dawning of something that, if he thought about it, had always been obvious to him, deep down.

When he’d first heard those tall tales, so many years ago, maybe there was already a part of him that doubted their validity. How could it be that he, who was only ever a child trying to live a quiet life and make friends, could be cursed? How could he be destined to bring evil upon the world, when it was other children who had beaten and berated him? What divine irony was that, that he should be considered the monstrous one, while others—with their supposed pure and unyielding love—could attempt to maim or even kill him with impunity?

The thing was, believing it had been easy. It was not hard to convince himself that surely, monster or not, evil or not, he had been cursed with some affliction. The truth was far harder to stomach—that anyone who believed they had the right to hurt him had been deluding themselves. Basil had never truly believed that there was something inhuman about him; but when that was how other people treated you anyway, what use was the truth?

There was no divine destiny, no cosmic reason, good or evil, that he should be born the way he was. It was simply the way of things, like nature. The sun rose every morning. Basil did not have a heart.

This new understanding should have brought him solace. It should have been vindicating, to know that his belief in his own humanity hadn’t been misplaced. It brought him no such peace. But it didn’t make him angry, either. Instead, Basil only felt a quiet sense of resignation. After all, what difference did it make? 

Before they knew what he was, the children of Swallow’s Point had treated Basil just like they would any other. He was strange, perhaps—he didn’t always relate to or understand the things they would joke about, like their crushes or their lofty dreams of being wed to someone wealthy from the capital—but they did not shun him. The way they turned on him so rapidly made it obvious that it didn’t matter who he was, only what he was. Once they decided there was something wrong with him, it didn’t matter who he’d proven himself to be. It wouldn’t have even mattered if he could prove the curse wasn’t real.

Deep down, Basil knew the truth: they would have considered him to be a freak either way.

When he tried to broach the subject with Jim, he’d only received a strange look in response. The others had reacted much the same, if a bit more graciously (save for Dusty, who’d jokingly agreed and then made him repeat it next to the new garden beds to “at least put that horseshit to good use”). Ann had attempted a clumsy diatribe about why he shouldn’t speak of himself that way before quickly giving up in embarrassment. When he’d mentioned it to Frida, it had been during a crying spell immediately following a nightmare, and she’d only tried to console him. Only Hank had given him somewhat of a straight answer, saying, “You know better than that by now” with a knowing expression before lapsing into silence on the trail.

And so, that had been that.

Today, Basil sat on Frida’s porch, toes in the grass, weaving. The motion soothed him, and reminded him fondly of warm days in Swallow’s Point, making daisy chains and flower crowns in the meadow. Now, however, he was working on a much more ambitious project.

“What’s that you’re working on?”

Basil looked up from his work. Ann crested the hill to the house, pack over her shoulder. As usual, she carried her bow on her back and a knife on her belt. It was rare to see her without them, even though the village was relatively safe and Hank always went about town unarmed.

“A sunhat. I want to finish it by summer,” Basil said. His attempts in years previous had not gone as planned; his best hat had only held up for a few weeks before falling apart. He hoped his new strategy would be more successful. “What’s in there?”

“Hides,” Ann said, hefting the bag. “Frida asked for them. Can’t imagine what she needs them for.”

Basil’s face lit up. “For blankets!” he explained. “Warmer ones, for when folks are sick.”

Ann’s lip twitched in a smile. “Well, look at you. Someone’s become the perfect apprentice.”

“Helping people,” Basil said, bashful. “It just feels right. Everyone took care of me when I was younger, so I ought to do the same. We have to look after one another. No one else will.”

An odd look passed across Ann’s face, and she took a knee in front of Basil with a sigh. Damn, he thought. Not this again.

“Kid, we’re not gonna be able to protect you forever.”

“I know.”

“You’re absolutely positive you don’t want me to teach you how to shoot? You have the steady hands for it.”

Basil’s stomach lurched. He’d accompanied Ann and Hank on a hunt exactly once, and he’d thrown up in the bushes and had to go home. That had been the end of that.

“I’m sure,” he said, voice strangled, idly fiddling with the loose strands of soft green grass poking out of his unfinished hat.

“Basil. I know you don’t want to hear it, but if you’re going to walk around in the woods by yourself like you have been, you ought to be able to defend yourself. This is me trying to keep you safe.”

“I’m not doing it.” Basil crossed his arms over his chest, indignant. “I promise to be careful, but I’m not shooting that thing.”

Ann sighed and rubbed at her temple. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Most people in town had never held a weapon in their life. Plenty of the villagers went wandering about, yet only Basil was subject to Ann’s incessant prodding about learning self defense. It was unfair to be treated this way—in a short time, Basil went from feared and derided to lauded as something uniquely precious. He was either a scourge on the world or the paragon of hope and virtue; there was no winning either way.

“I don’t know what it is you all see in me,” Basil said. “I’m not some kind of hero.”

“It ain’t about you being a hero. It’s just that, well…” Ann grimaced, looking rather sheepish. “You’re young, and you only narrowly survived your way here. It gives the rest of us something to live for, knowing you’ll be alright.”

Basil suppressed a smirk. It was a peculiar sentiment, given that he in his young life had experienced far more direct violence than most of the other townspeople. Ann didn’t seem to notice the irony. Instead, she looked at him wistfully before shaking herself out of it and pushing past him into the house, ruffling his hair as she passed.

Once she was gone, Basil plucked another blade of long grass from his basket and returned to his weaving. He worked steadily for a while, worming his toes in the cool dirt. After some time, he grew curious and scooted up closer to the kitchen window to eavesdrop..

“...he’s so stubborn about it, Frida! Can’t he see how important this is?”

Startled, Basil leaned closer to hear, hands stilling.

“Ann, please don’t push the boy. If it’s upsetting to him, we ought to not force him to do it.”

“Someone’s going to come for him some day. You know where he’s from. If he wanders off too far—”

“Hush now. It’s safe here. No one is going to come.”

Ann took a ragged breath. “Hank was right from the start. We should have done something about this.”

“Absolutely not. We do not need to risk further traumatizing the poor boy.”

“Frida, do you know the way he talks? Things about being cursed, about—”

“Yes, yes, he’s said the same to me too. It’s a common myth, Ann. He’s growing up, trying to understand what he is.”

“He worries me. I told myself in the beginning not to get attached, because—”

“He’ll be alright, dear. He’s a teenager now, and a smart one at that. You should see the way he is around the house; so bright and kind. Thank you for looking out for him.”

Basil set his project aside, hands trembling. Anger washed over him, though at what, he didn’t know. Anger at the people who had lied to him for so long, perhaps. Anger at those who had hurt him and ruined his life. Anger at himself, even, for still being frightened after all this time, for being too weak to protect himself, for proving Ann right with his own fragility.

Not wanting the others to know he’d been eavesdropping, Basil grabbed his cane and scurried further from the house, adrenaline pushing him a good deal across the hillside before he dropped back into the grass, legs quaking. He stayed there for a long while, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to breathe slowly through the anger and panic.

The sun was setting by the time Frida came to fetch him, settling beside him in the grass, not minding the way it stained her skirts.

“Basil, dear? Are you okay?” she asked, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. It was his quilt, the same old one she’d given him the day he’d arrived in Verdigris, those years ago.

Basil shrugged.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

Basil nodded, and Frida draped an arm around him and tugged him close, brushing his shoulder gently with her thumb in a soothing motion. He was nearly taller than her now, though that wasn’t saying much. Both of them were still short. For a moment, they sat quietly in the rustling grass, watching the sun go down over Verdigris. Eventually, Frida spoke again.

“You know you aren’t cursed, don’t you, Basil? There is nothing evil or wrong about how you were born.”

“I know,” Basil said softly. He nestled closer to her side. “A part of me always knew. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“I know. But I thought you deserved to hear someone say it to you anyway.”

Briefly, Basil felt a twinge of regret, thinking of those left behind. Ace, if he was truly still out there, and any others like him would have to go on believing in a lie that had only been crafted to hurt them. But that pain was quickly superseded by the feeling of the huge weight he’d been carrying for years being lifted from his shoulders. Two years before everything had gone wrong, Basil had been warned of his own existence like it were a ghost story, and he and Ace had both carried that burden like a seed deep within their chests from that day on. The moment had brought them together, but it also represented a threat to whatever little peace they’d had.

Now, however futile or fleeting the feeling was, Basil buried his face in Frida’s shoulder and wept, relieved.

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 35

Cw: off screen murder

Gif by @wardrobeoftime

The fit she had in the tourney doesn’t compare to the one the girl has the moment Alicent took her arm.

Alicent is petrified when the girl falls suddenly in front of her.

Its brief, a minute or less, but it felt eternal to the queen. It was one thing to know the illness exists, it is another thing to witness the extent of it.

“I’m fine, I have had them since I was ten.” Aemma breathed deeply as she steadied herself after. She had said something when her feet gave out under her, but the words had already been forgotten. “It’s why I spend so much on drinkware, its usually just my hands.”

“Your poor mother must have been terrified when she discovered your illness.” Alicent remembered how Rhaenyra fussed over her children, especially Aemma who was her first.

The first time Aemma had ever been ill, Rhaenyra had to be assured by Rhaenys that Aemma wasn’t dying.

Did Rhaenys comfort her when they saw Aemma was ill and will be ill for the rest of her life?

“She was, forbade me from flying, riding and even swimming until grandmother saw how miserable I was.” The girl admits looking at the rings on her fingers. She twists the signet ring on her little finger like Rhaenyra always did. “Vaegon lived very long, and Aegon the Conqueror had it too, so it isn’t a real issue. Not unless you are Ser Otto and are looking for any reason to usurp my mother’s throne.”

Aemma no longer sees her as an enemy, she sees her father as such. Views him like he is her opponent in those board games she likes to play, analyzing his every move to see how she should move next.

Alicent can concede that she is right to keep her guard up, but Aemma’s too young to play the Game of Thrones adequately.

It is only by divine luck that her father is still in the dark about Aemma’s affliction.

“The Crown cannot appear weak, Aegon left the ruling to his sisters, what will you do when the time comes?” the queen resumed her frantic pacing and thanks the Seven her son has arrived.

“Aemond and I will rule as one---” the girl answers before Aemond runs to her.

“Aemee!” he frets over his wife who dismisses his hovering because it no longer scares her as it scares her.

“I am fine, just with a new bruise on my shin, that is all.” Aemma assured her husband as if it had just been an ordinary fall.

There is something she is not saying, something Aemond and her Septa know and are relieved that Alicent remains ignorant to.

Could this be a ruse and the girl be with child so soon?

She will have been here a moon, could she have gotten with child sometime in the week between the examination and the wedding? Criston had caught them in a compromising situation where the two youths had done something that had the knight unable to look at her in the eye as he spoke.

No, it couldn’t be that Aemond was not like that.

Besides three weeks was too soon to tell if she was pregnant.

What could this secret be?

----

“The Little Queen is ill, she fainted when she was with the bitch queen.” Talya reports to her real mistress.

“Targaryens are too fertile for their own good, it is of no news to me.” Mysaria said bored and gave her little mouse half the coin promised.

It had only taken a few tries for Daemon’s seed to find purchase in her womb, and once was enough for Ser Laenor to sire the little queen on the Realm’s Delight.

“Not pregnancy, she has these fits where she is unable to move her legs. I heard her Septa tell the queen that she has been having them since Ser Laenor died.” Talya shook her head and made a sign of the star as she mentioned the dead prince consort’s name. “Like shaking fits, but the opposite of them.”

Dragon dreams.

Daemon had said his brother had a fit like that when poor Queen Aemma had felt her womb quicken that last time.

Had fallen to the floor unable to move and seen that Aegon’s line would continue through Aemma’s child.

The then Young King had called them Dragon Dreams, reminded him that Viserra Targaryen had had them, and it was how King Jaehaerys chose Baelon as his heir after Prince Aemon’s demise.

Her former lover had dismissed it as nonsense, but then Viserys named his daughter his heir and did not go back on his word when his sons were born.

And now the Pearl of Dragonstone was plagued by them.

“Bring the girl’s chambermaid with you next time.” The White Worm said and paid the handmaiden what she was owed.

----

“Your grandfather has been conspiring this entire time, the Grand Maester, the Small Council, the High Septon. They are all his pieces.” Aemma wrote so frantically her quill broke and left the page in her diary smudged. “We have lost, he has won.”

Aemma’s words alone are not enough to have this war over before it begins, to arrest all the conspirators she has to reveal her ability or find tangible proof.

If they enlist the right people, they could.

They may have to take Lady Misery on her offer or use Vaemond to reveal the rest of the snakes in the grass.

“He means to kill my mother, any lords loyal to her starting with Beesbury.”

And killing his half-sister means killing her children as well.

Aemma wouldn’t be safe, not even as his wife, her claim was higher than Rhaenyra’s thanks to Laenor.

If his grandfather means to secure Aegon’s line, they were all in danger.

“Aegon doesn’t want the Crown, never has. He cannot force him to take it.” Aemond shook his head, Aegon was too irresponsible to be heir, even he dreamed of being an indolent prince who lives as he pleases.

Aegon had no ambition, Aemond did in spades, but he was the spare and an afterthought in Otto Hightower’s mind. “We may not like Rhaenyra, but that doesn’t mean we’d do that to her.”

Especially after Aemond has married Aemma, there is no need for his grandfather to continue in his ambitions.

But the man wanted Aegon on the Throne, not Aemond, not whatever child he has. He needs the firstborn son to be King and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get Aegon there.

“Like that has ever stopped him before, Aemond.” His wife sighed in defeat. “It’s over, the dragons will dance, and we will all die because of his fucking ambition.”

His grandfather’s machinations were too deep to stop the inevitable succession crisis he will make; nothing would stop him.

Otto Hightower has spent twenty years plotting, and yet he would still lose the war if Aemma’s vision of his mother was right.

His line would be wiped from the earth as punishment from the Gods. No gods look kindly upon oathbreakers.

But oaths never mattered to Otto Hightower, Otto did not care if he damned them all in his pursuit for power.

----

“All you have to do is steal her highness’ private journal. She won’t notice it is gone, Uma.” Talya instructs the chambermaid.

The little queen paid well, the Velaryons and the Princess of Dragonstone always did. But it was not enough, not to Uma of Fleabottom who was the daughter of a whore and a mummer.

Uma was the sole provider to her aging parents now that her brother had died of the Lyseni disease. The little queen’s charity was not enough, but the little nobody refused to accompany her to see their no patroness for fear of being sacked.

“Princess Aemma wouldn’t hurt a fly, Uma.” Talya coaxed her, she had been doing so well for nearly two weeks now.

Two weeks had gone by since the little queen had her fit in front of the queen.

“But Aemond One Eye would.” The girl whispered as they approached the strongbox kept. She kept it in their solar, locked in a chest with other important things belonging to both husband and wife.

There were no secrets between them, the spy notes with a bit of tenderness as she takes the leather-bound journal kept besides all those love letters they had sent each other.

“They will never know, Uma. I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

----

“Are you pregnant?” Helaena asks and Aemma chokes on her tea. It was a sweet flowery thing from Naath, very expensive and a favorite of grandfather Corlys’ or so he had whispered when he had given her enough tea to fill Hull’s Harbor for her ninth name day.

“No!” the princess sputtered as she wiped the hot tea with a linen napkin that Hel had offered. “I have only been wed for a moon, Hel.”

“I got with child on my wedding night, Aemma.” The fair haired girl pointed out and poured Aemma more tea. “You and Aemond spend more time in bed with each other than Cousin Ormund does with Lady Sam, if you are not in the family way soon, people will talk.”

The next thing a lady must do after securing a husband is to become pregnant and secure their line.

All women in her family have been successful that way, grandmother had father not even seven moons after her wedding day, mother, Alicent and Helaena had all had a child begat on their wedding night.

Fuck, Aegon was called the golden cock because every wench he fucks somehow always ends up pregnant.

Aemond will be seven and ten in a moon’s turn, perhaps she will know by then and make it one of his nameday gifts.

But it is too soon, Aemma thinks. She wants more time, more time to enjoy being a wife before she has to be a mother.

The princess wished she could talk to her mother; she would tell her it’s fine to be scared. She is warmer and more understanding than grandmother who’s too worried for grandfather’s delays in coming home.

“Your son would marry Jaehaera, or little Visenya. Or if you have a daughter, she could marry Stark’s son and smooth that over, or pick between Jaehaerys and Maelor.” Helaena smiles and daydreams of their future, but Aemma cannot shake the bad feeling she gets when she mentions the Visenya that will never be along with the three other children.

“Oh, your little Aemon will be so precious. Thick silvery curls, eyes like heliotropes like Laenor’s,” Helaena paints a vivid picture of a baby that doesn’t exist yet.

To vivid, as if little Aemon Targaryen were more than just a thought.

“Aemon?” Aemma had joked to Aemond about the name, well names for the five to six children Helaena says they will have. All would have Ae names, Aemon, Aenys, Aeslin, Aethan, that sort.

“Yes, Aemon, first of his name. He will have a dragon as black and large as Balerion, hatched from the last of the Red Queen’s eggs.” Her fellow dreamer pronounced as if she had already lived it. “Green wings and black scales, he will unite the realms, Aemon Targaryen, King to all of Westeros. You will have a Northern gooddaughter, Queen Sarra Stark.”

“You jest,” Aemma tries to dismiss with a nervous laugh and a sip of her tea, “I am not pregnant yet and already you are finding my firstborn a wife.”

----

“She writes in it after having her fits, Lady Mysaria.” Jeyne repeats everything Uma has told her.

The Lyseni whore skims through the pages before her eyes light up when she gets to something. The white worm could not care about the secrets and thoughts the prim and proper princess has, no she needs her visions.

Visions that the girl was recording and trying to dissect like a silent sister may dissect a corpse for burial.

Rhaenyra was pregnant, pregnant with a child that will be malformed and dead like Mysaria’s was nearly twenty years ago.

This was no accident; Rhaenyra Targaryen was poisoned like she had been. Poisoned by someone who did not want any competition for his daughter’s children with the king.

The poison Tyanna of the Tower used to kill all the children of Maegor the Cruel, one Larys Strong had taken an interest in if her last spy was correct.

Four moons, the poison makes babes come at the seventh moon.

In four moons war will come whether they want it or not.

No warning will save them, no marriage between factions, nothing will stop the seven kingdoms to bleed as brother is put against sister.

----

Putting the book back into its chest is not as easy as taking it out.

Talya only hears a scream as she waits for Uma to put it back.

“Guards, arrest her!” Jeyne Waters, Princess Aemma’s chief handmaiden, calls frantically as a bloodied and crying Uma tries to outrun the men.

“Murderer!” Jeyne shouts at the crying girl. “She killed Septa Teora, I saw her with me own eyes.”

Oh no.

Oh no, Talya cries as she runs back to Lady Misery.

[fzzr]

Monogatari Read-Along Re-Watch — Mayoi Snail

The second Bakemonogatari arc, Mayoi Snail†, introduces us to Hachikuji Mayoi and more incidentally, Namishiro Park. Both of them will be surprisingly important to the narrative as the series moves forward. Indeed, in retrospect Mayoi Snail is the jumping off point for the wider plot of the series, not Hitagi Crab.

Novel

The emotional core of Mayoi Snail is within Koyomi, and accordingly we spend a lot of time on what's on his mind. He's quite down in the dumps, and the way the stream-of-reminiscence represents that is very real. When the particularly painful memory (his fight with Karen) comes up, he cuts it off and finds some diversion for his thoughts. Nonetheless in his conversations with the other characters he is forced to recall that moment a bit more clearly each time. Those conversations are the entire content of the arc, so lets get into it.

Despite the name on the title page, a great deal of this arc is to do with Hitagi and her relationship with Koyomi. She shows up with her mind on a single mission: get together with Koyomi, preferably with him asking her out first. Koyomi is a mix of too dumb, depressed, and willfully blind to understand just how strong she's coming on. She has complete control of their conversation, letting him out just a bit when he tries to pull away but redirecting him back to the point in short order. Ultimately Koyomi chooses not to pick up what she's putting down, using a variety of excuses that ultimately come down to his own lack of self-worth.

Just as non-relationship talk hits a dead end, Mayoi shows up to start the spooky stuff part of the story. This initially consists of even more banter, this time with physical comedy mixed in. Just as Hitagi slipped propositions into her banter, Mayoi gives away clues to her true nature in small ways. Just as Koyomi refused to be pulled in by Hitagi's advances, here he will not be diverted away. While the introduction to Mayoi is in the foreground, Hitagi becomes increasingly frigid. Koyomi attributes this to his own shenanigans (he did just knock an elementary school student flat on her back) but compared to her earlier playfulness, the difference is palpable. All of this builds intrigue while putting up yet another barrier between Hitagi and Koyomi, this time from her end.

Eventually the spooky stuff becomes too obvious to ignore, and Hitagi sets out to get help from Oshino. This leaves Koyomi and Mayoi alone for more sparring, verbal and otherwise. This time Tsubasa shows up to mix things up with some sanity and order. I appreciate there's a bit more Tsubasa in Mayoi Snail. It gives us some early hints of her relationship with her family that doubles as more misdirection around Hitagi not being able to see Mayoi. Her strong opinions on disciplining children is another tip-off if you know what to look for.

As Koyomi and Mayoi bounce off one another, they bring out each others' true reasons for being where they are. Once again the dialogue is funny, energetic, and clever all around. This time, however, Koyomi comes to suspect that there's another level to the situation he isn't understanding. At the same time, he starts to acknowledge that the only one keeping him from going home is himself.

Each of the four characters who visited the park that Mother's Day has a distinct reason not to be with their mother. Only Koyomi could go home to his mother and be welcome there, and he gets called out on it. Mayoi desperately wants to get to her mother, but can't. We heard all about Hitagi's ruined relationship with her mother in Hitagi Crab, but she nonetheless has a home where she is welcome. Tsubasa's parental issues are only referred to indirectly for now, but the fact that she sees the Lost Cow and walks away without difficulty is another critical clue to Koyomi about the true, internal source of his issues.

Hitagi's return is what settles the issue. The reveal that Koyomi was the one afflicted by the Lost Cow all along in the final catalyst needed for him to acknowledge the true root of the problem. Understanding this he nonetheless demands to go that extra step, and save Mayoi anyway. This reinforces Koyomi's character as the person will save everyone, and it's enough to push Hitagi out of her confrontational mode long enough to declare her love. This conflux of several disparate plotlines being resolved at once is one of my favorite things to see in storytelling, and this one is well implemented indeed.

So Mayoi is freed, and Hitagi intercepts Koyomi's final attempt to escape. They extract from one another promises to have a relationship based on mutual honesty and respect. Mayoi, now free, tells Koyomi to talk with her again sometime. What a small first domino that is to set great things in motion!

Anime

This is the talkiest arc of Bakemonogatari, so the storyboard really needs to be creative to keep things visually engaging. They do this by making a change to the setting, adding playground equipment the novel explicitly says are missing. When the conversation is playful, Koyomi and Hitagi are shown interacting with the equipment. When the conversation is more serious and they're sitting down, it has the sky cycle bars move across the screen slowly, suggesting parallax without actually moving the camera from being centered on them. It also brings in extra exaggerated camera angles (especially zoomed in on faces and eyes) for times when Koyomi is off balance. The male gaze shots line up pretty well with moments from the novel where he finds himself admiring Hitagi physically, saving on exposition.

They also make great use of music to control the tone. Every arc does this, but track changes often sync up with transitions to new locations, which covers up their impact to some extent. Since Mayoi Snail barely changes setting at all, the music does all the work alone. Hitagi enters the park to the chill track Sanpo. When she reminisces about how the neighborhood she grew up in has changed, it calls on the melancholy of Nichiyoubi. When Hitagi begins to toy with Koyomi and they start fooling around the playground, it uses the playful Jinchiku. After the eyecatch, the conversation gets a bit more serious again, and the pensive and slightly uncomfortable track Doutokutosetsu picks up. Hitagi pulls Koyomi out of a funk thinking about his family issues with some more trolling, backed by Sutekimeppou. Dokuzetsu kicks in when Hitagi raises the pressure on Koyomi, leading up to her essentially direct offer to be his girlfriend. Between each of these shifts there are at least a few lines of dialogue without background music, so the transitions really stand out.

The result of all that is they adapted a conversation between two people with basically no stage direction into 15 minutes of engaging, dynamic television. I don't think it's any exaggeration to say that the episode 3 banter session between Hitagi and Koyomi is what really made the statement that this show is fundamentally about talking, and it's going to be fun to watch anyway.

Koyomi's interaction with Mayoi is slapstick comedy, and gives us our first look at how the anime does at comic timing. In short, it's excellent. Since the ultimate resolution doesn't require any dramatic action, they were free to commit the bulk of the animation budget to these sequences. The background tracks continue to do work, of course. There are even some jokes in the music, like the ball dance played later on when Araragi and Mayoi are grappling at arms length.

Once Hitagi starts trying to figure out what Koyomi is doing, the anime has a curious problem. In writing, what we know is entirely what the first person narrator sees, and this makes a convincing unreliable narration much easier to achieve. Anime is of necessity presented in third person, and so we have a stronger assumption that what's on screen is what's in the scene. Mayoi Snail sticks strictly to "what's on screen is what Koyomi perceives." This is both necessary to build up the twist and a precondition for understanding future narrators who break the rules of objective depiction of reality even more.

The solution and resolution are handled exactly as they should be, and ending on Mayoi's new freedom is just as heartwarming as it was in the novel. In terms of cuts and changes, there are once again very few. One I noticed was in Koyomi talking about him falling behind on his studies, he doesn't point out that it's because he was at a school with a higher academic standard. Removing this small crutch gives Koyomi even more room to get down on himself.

Conclusion

Mayoi Snail, for all its relative brevity, is one of my favorite Monogatari arcs due to how it shows the true potential of the series as a whole. It will certainly be coming up by reference moving forward.

On a meta level, Mayoi Snail could be seen as an arc that trains the reader/viewer for how to handle the rest of the series. This is a series that can carry itself on dialogue alone. You learn that you absolutely must not tune out the banter, because the important bits are all embedded within it. It's also the first arc where the inherent unreliability of a first person point of view becomes important. It is made crystal clear that what is written and seen is not the objective reality, but only what the narrator understands at the time.

† A later arc from Monster Season is called "Mayoi Snail," and this one is properly "Mayoi Mai Mai". However this was called "Mayoi Snail" in localizations of both the novel and the anime, so I called it that in this context.

[the-hem]

Regression to the Mean: The Conclusion to the Perfect Series. Part 1.

12.1 Regression to the Mean.

The acceptable mean- the middle of the road- is the Grace of the Divine made manifest through the humane. I cautioned earlier we need more than Bible verses, rumors and hymns about God’s Love, we need the real things. They are always conveyed through Baptism and Beatitude, AKA Direct Experience of the Sacrament. 

Direct Experience is always ever new. The Book of Mormon emphasizes the use of Ancient Scripture in modern times was an inherently flawed idea and encouraged continual revelation, a fresh intuitive, Spirit Driven Approach to life: 

 2 Nephi 5:

30 And it came to pass that the Lord God said unto me: aMake other plates; and thou shalt engraven many things upon them which are good in my sight, for the profit of thy people.

31 Wherefore, I, Nephi, to be obedient to the commandments of the Lord, went and made athese plates upon which I have engraven these things.

32 And I engraved that which is pleasing unto God. And if my people are pleased with the things of God they will be pleased with mine engravings which are upon these plates.

33 And if my people desire to know the more particular part of the history of my people they must search mine aother bplates.

34 And it sufficeth me to say that forty years had passed away, and we had already had wars and contentions with our brethren.

We must learn from history and this includes how functional our humanity has been given circumstances. The Grace of God being the standard, where did we rank? 

Mosiah 7:

24 Yea, I say unto you, great are the reasons which we have to amourn; for behold how many of our brethren have been slain, and their blood has been spilt in vain, and all because of iniquity.

25 For if this people had not fallen into transgression the Lord would not have suffered that this great evil should come upon them. But behold, they would not hearken unto his words; but there arose contentions among them, even so much that they did shed blood among themselves.

26 And a aprophet of the Lord have they bslain; yea, a chosen man of God, who told them of their wickedness and abominations, and prophesied of many things which are to come, yea, even the coming of Christ.

27 And because he said unto them that Christ was the aGod, the Father of all things, and said that he should take upon him the bimage of man, and it should be the cimage after which man was created in the beginning; or in other words, he said that man was created after the image of dGod, and that God should come down among the children of men, and take upon him flesh and blood, and go forth upon the face of the earth—

28 And now, because he said this, they did aput him to death; and many more things did they do which brought down the wrath of God upon them. Therefore, who wondereth that they are in bondage, and that they are smitten with sore afflictions?

29 For behold, the Lord hath said: I will not asuccor my people in the day of their transgression; but I will hedge up their ways that they prosper not; and their doings shall be as a bstumbling block before them.

30 And again, he saith: If my people shall sow afilthiness they shall breap the cchaff thereof in the whirlwind; and the effect thereof is poison.

31 And again he saith: If my people shall sow filthiness they shall reap the aeast wind, which bringeth immediate destruction.

32 And now, behold, the promise of the Lord is fulfilled, and ye are smitten and afflicted.

33 But if ye will aturn to the Lord with full purpose of heart, and put your trust in him, and serve him with all bdiligence of mind, if ye do this, he will, according to his own will and pleasure, deliver you out of bondage.

Are any of us contributing the demise of humanity in any way? Are we diligent of mind or fettering our destinies to deadly delusions about the ability this planet to withstand our abuses of it? 

Abraham Lincoln, the author, was unrelenting in his belief the Gospels should have been sufficient to tell us how to avoid stumbling through history, fucking up in bigger, more spectacular ways.

27 And because he said unto them that Christ was the aGod, the Father of all things, and said that he should take upon him the bimage of man, and it should be the cimage after which man was created in the beginning;

The more flamboyant our delusions about war, corruption, genocide, waste, all the telltales of profound inhumanity, the farther from Mean we digress, the greater the consequences, the more costly prosperity becomes to recover. 

30...If my people shall sow afilthiness they shall breap the cchaff thereof in the whirlwind; and the effect thereof is poison.

31 And again he saith: If my people shall sow filthiness they shall reap the aeast wind, which bringeth immediate destruction.

Iniquity digresses us from our basically Gracious natures and instead of prosperity, rampant, farther reaching and lasting impropriety results. Ingenuity, the natural product of continual reflection on our failure to make history is our way out. 

The Book of Mormon meditates on why this happens. One instance of one Gospel should have been remedy to war, bigotry, violence, apartheid, all the root causes of all sins that have rotted at our souls and made us the most technologically sophisticated but devolved instance of humanity so far. 

We are obsessed with Jesus Christ and all the rituals and institutions He ordained, are positively freakish about keeping the traditions and sacraments, but not once have they cured us of the need to be petty or interested us in growing up just as Christ did as he walked through Jerusalem long ago.

If we believe the Son of the Sun became the Son of Man as we are all Sons of Both, then their means, their generally good and amicable natures should not be that far out of reach for us.

[therealvinelle]

What if Bella got possessed by a demon in Twilight? Like pretty standard, The Exorcist type of stuff.

A lot of you anons should just head on to Ao3 instead of my inbox because whereever you went with this fic idea, I’m sure it’d be delightful. Lulzy, but an absolute delight.

Since you say Twilight, I’ll just set the timeline to the beginning of the series, when Bella has just arrived in Forks. She got possessed just before leaving, as Renée wanted to try an ouija board.

So, for the purposes of this ask, demons are real within the Twilight universe. They have to be very few and far in between, though, since humans don’t know about them and they presumably don’t care about following the Volturi law.

Bella is Reagan and the demon Pazuzu has taken up residence within her.

As happened in The Exorcist, this isn’t very noticeable at first. Bella starts saying some messed up things, yes, enough so that the other kids at school avoid her and the teachers give Charlie a call, but she’s not running down the stairs like a spider. Charlie is worried about her behavior and calls Renée about this, but he’s not dialing up any priests just yet.

Well, Bella gets worse.

Edward, for the record, was interested in this delicious smelling girl with the mystery box brain up until she started spouting profanities in the hallways at other students. Not being able to read her mind, he assumes Bella Swan is just like that. There’s no challenge, no reward, nothing to keeping her alive, his only real reason for not eating her at this point is Carlisle. Though his sheer distaste at that vulgar human who dares to tempt him so makes him resistent to drinking her blood, just out of spite. She’s not his perfect damsel with the delicious blood, and that ruins a lot of the appeal. Not all, mind, because that blood is still delicious.

Though it does help when she’s pulled out of school. Edward can pretend vulgar hamburger doesn’t exist, even as he ruffles through her wardrobe for sweaters to huff.

Back to Charlie, whose daughter is now running down the stairs like the spider.

He sends her to every shrink he can afford, has all the doctors in Forks look at her, and none of them give him an answer he can believe. He’s at his wit’s end.

And this affliction, whatever it is, that’s affecting Bella, it doesn’t seem natural, not human. She speaks in tongues, sexually assaults herself (yes, this happens in the movie), growls and hisses like an animal, in every way acts like- well, whatever it is, Charlie’s ability to deny that this his daughter’s affliction is supernatural in origin is growing thin.

But none of the shrinks can help him with that, and Charlie is a “lapsed Lutheran”, so I doubt priests is something he’ll consider all that seriously. He needs occult help, yes, but from someone who will actually help Bella.

His mind turns towards Carlisle Cullen and his children, and how Billy reacted when they moved into town.

Charlie laughed off his friends’ fears then, thought it was ridiculous to believe the Cullens could ever be anything but human. He dismissed their unusual looks as just that, unusual looks, their too-good-to-be-true cover story as them being that wonderful, and was quite happy about it.

That was then, now his daughter is fast becoming proof that the occult is indeed real.

And Dr. Cullen is so very kind, excellent in his work as a doctor and above all knowledgeable.

Say that Billy was right, that these guys aren’t as human as they appear. Well, that makes them the only people in the world, in Charlie’s world anyhow, who might be able to help.

Which is how Carlisle has the town chief walk into his office, tell him his daughter is possessed by a demon, and that Carlisle has to come over and have a look at her.

Now, as I think demons would be extremely rare, we’ll allow that Carlisle with all likelihood hasn’t seen any of these before. Quite the contrary, he was once a man who persecuted women suspected of witchcraft. He understands Charlie a little too well, but is also not touching this exorcism quest with a ten-foot pole.

Except, the chief seems convinced that Carlisle himself isn’t entirely human.

What would a human doctor do?

Carlisle really has no choice here but to come with Charlie. Besides, no matter how one looks at it what Charlie said about Bella is highly disturbing, the girl obviously needs medical attention.

So Carlisle has a look at Bella, and his “ahahaha we’re all human in here” smile quickly stiffens as he finds that whatever’s going on with Bella, it is indeed not human. She’s spitting green goo, talking Latin backwards, inhumanly strong, impersonating Carlisle’s father, and depending on how closely we follow Pazuzu’s actions in The Exorcist she may have killed a man. There’s scars on her body spelling out pleas for help.

It becomes clear to Carlisle that this girl really does need an exorcism. Or something, anyway, this is terrifying new territory for him.

But he has neither any clue nor the authority to perform an exorcism, and he lacks the network to get his hands on a human priest who’ll do this. More, even if humans could help (and considering how misinformed they are about vampires, the odds of that are extremely slim), involving more humans than have already been pulled into this would not make the Volturi happy.

There’s really only one place to go where someone will have the resources to help this suffering human, and that’s Volterra.

There’s a risk that demons are like immortal children and Aro will kill her on the spot, but Carlisle, still spooked from father Cullen’s voice coming out of this 17-year-old girl in the 21st century, has no other recourse.

So he tells Charlie he’s taking Bella somewhere Charlie can’t follow, and it’s likely they’ll never see each other again, even if Bella is saved. Charlie is devastated, but the promise that his daughter could get better means he can’t refuse. Just the fact that Carlisle isn’t entirely human yet benign makes him the best help Charlie is able to get her.

Carlisle takes Bella to Volterra, where Aro puts on his best Max von Sydow impression and says “Ah, demons... I’ve seen this once before, in the memories of a merchant from Ur...”

Knowing Aro while not knowing the lore of The Exorcist well enough to know what to do about a demon possession if you don’t have a Catholic priest on hand, I imagine Aro dresses up in whatever it is that Sumerian priests wore thousands of years ago (he always told Caius those bedazzled costumes would come in handy someday, and look who was right! VINDICATION) and tricks Pazuzu into possessing one of the humans Heidi brought in instead. This human is promptly killed. Ta-da, Aro smiles to Carlisle, he solved the problem!

Bella wakes up surrounded by insanely beautiful people in an underground palace in Italy and remembers nothing. Carlisle gets the honor of explaining to this human girl that she was possessed by a demon, Charlie asked Carlisle to fix it, and now the nice man who makes jingling noises whenever he moves because he’s dressed head to toe in gold wants her to be a different kind of demon because he can’t read her mind.

Bella caught maybe half of that.

Carlisle refuses to elaborate on the “possessed by a demon” part. No, Bella, you did nothing embarrassing, no one thought you were weird. We hardly noticed you were possessed at all!

But he was serious about that last part, Aro noticed she has a special ability so he’d like for her to become a vampire.

Bella, still, overwhelmed, makes a phone call to Charlie explaining nothing at all but assuring him that the demon is gone. She is then made a vampire.

Edward arrives too late to the party, so late that the party is in fact over, as he didn’t believe Carlisle when he said hamburger was possessed by a demon. Now it turns out that the disgusting, vulgar girl was in fact a delicate flower and a damsel in distress this whole time. Except, now she’s a vampire. Woe! Theirs is a love that never bloomed.

Bella has no idea who this guy is, and asks Renata to make him go away.

[bethansfandoms]

I have a quote prompt it is “if the world ended tonight I would be glad your by my side” .

As Remus sat on the astronomy tower, the pleasant summer evening slowly turning into night, he wondered how long he could get away with sitting there before anybody found him or noted him missing.

It had been the full moon the previous night. His last one at Hogwarts. In four days the train would pull into kings cross station like it did at the end of every year. Except, this time, Remus wouldn’t be catching it again the following September.

He stayed sat against the wall, hugging his knees as the final dregs of daylight faded away and were replaced by darkness. The moon was clearly visible and reflected its pearly image into the black lake. Remus smiled slightly. How strange it was that something so beautiful could do such terrible things.

“There you are.”

Remus snapped out of his daydream and turned his head. Sirius was standing there in what appeared to be his pyjama t-shirt and school trousers, as though he had been half way through getting ready for bed and then changed his mind.

Sirius smiled and sat down next to him. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet before you showed up.”

Sirius laughed and gently nudged their shoulders together. “Very funny. Feeling sentimental yet?”

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A little. I don’t think I’m ready for the real world yet.” It was so truthful that it scared him a little bit. “I think Hogwarts has given me a very deluded view of how easy it’ll be for people like me.”

“People like you?” Sirius questioned. “What? Smart? Top of the class? Passionate? Give me a hint.”

Remus sighed and looked at Sirius’ profile, his skin slightly illuminated by the moonlight. “None of that will matter to anybody as soon as they find out I’m a werewolf.”

“Do you know what I think, Moony?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Sirius smirked slightly. “I think you spend so much time belittling yourself that you fail to see that not everybody in the world will judge you for that. Case and point, moi.” He clutched a hand to his chest for emphasis.

“Potential employers will. I just... I wanted to have it all figured out by now, I wanted a plan.”

“If you could do anything, imagining there wasn’t a war on, what would you do?”

“Imagining I wasn’t a werewolf, too?”

“Remus,” Sirius said, sadly.

“No, don’t pretend it isn’t an issue. If I could do anything... I’d teach. Here. And that’s never going to happen because nobody will want me anywhere near their children so... yeah. I’ll join Dumbledore’s order and I’ll fight in a war and if it’s ever over, then I’ll be left with nothing.”

“For the record, you would be an excellent teacher. And don’t say that. When the war is over, you won’t have nothing. You’ll have me for a start.

Remus sighed. “Living with me can’t be your life plan, surly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... James is moving in with Lily, isn’t he? One day you’ll find your Lily too.”

“You say that like you won’t.”

“Sirius,” Remus said, his voice laced with the faintest traces of frustration. “Dating means telling them what I am. I can’t conceal it from someone, that isn’t fair.”

“Merlin, Moony, how many times? You are more than that stupid affliction. You’re smart and you’re funny and you’re caring and you... fuck, Remus, you’re one of the best people I know. Not everyone will care about the werewolf thing, I don’t, do I?”

Remus hugged his knees a little closer and rested his chin on them. “You’re sure you want to live with me?”

Sirius turned his head, studying Remus before looking back up at the stars and huffing. “Did you listen to a single thing I just said? I want you by my side, Remus.”

Remus nodded slowly, glancing at Sirius. “Sorry for being all... pessimistic. It just— leaving Hogwarts, fighting in a war. It just feels like the end of the world, you know?”

Sirius shrugged. “The world is always ending. And if it did, if the world ended tonight, I’d be glad you’re by my side. Got it? You’re not this... unemployable unloveable person, Remus. You’re you. So just... don’t forget that.”

Remus didn’t quite understand what Sirius had meant but he smiled and pointed up at the night sky. “That’s you,” he said.

Sirius looked to where his finger was pointing. “How’re you always so good at finding that star, huh?”

“The only reason I took OWL level astronomy was so I could perfect that talent. There was a question about Sirius in my astronomy paper, did I tell you?”

“No?”

Remus chuckled slightly. “Sirius is the brightest star in what, was the question. I put quidditch for a laugh.”

Sirius rotated himself so he was sat facing Remus’ profile, Remus turned to face him too. “You didn’t.”

“Hand on heart,” Remus said, placing his hand on the left of his chest for emphasis, “it was one of two marks i dropped on that whole paper. Professor Merak confronted me about it, said it was funny but exams were no laughing matter. Got an O anyway.”

“I guess now would be a good time to tell you about my defence against the dark arts NEWT exam...”

“Oh no, what?”

“You know the question about how werewolf attributes were different to normal wolves?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“I put that they were cuter.”

Remus shoved his shoulder. “I would lecture you about that but given what I just told you... I probably shouldn’t. Also, cute?”

Sirius bit his lip slightly and broke eye contact. “Yeah... well. You’re quite cute.”

“Cute like adorable or cute like good looking?” he teased, regretting the question the moment it was out of his mouth.

Sirius shrugged. “Why not both?”

“Sirius...”

Sirius clearly thought for a moment before announcing “Fuck it.” He turned his head to look at Remus slightly.

“Look, we’re leaving Hogwarts this weekend and you’re right, the real world is going to be terrible. There’s a war and I’m trying to stay positive about it but it’s really hard. Do you want to know why I asked if you wanted to get a flat with me?”

“Because I have no money?”

“No,” Sirius laughed. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You’re right, it’ll feel like the world as we know it is ending but the one thing I think could make it bearable is having you by my side so... do with that what you will. I just thought you should know before we left.”

“Know what?”

“That—” Sirius stopped and laughed nervously. “Haven’t said it out loud before,” he muttered. “That i’m in love with you, Moony. I have been for a while. Even if you don’t feel the same, there’s your proof, I guess, that there are people in this world capable of loving you and if you don’t want me to be that person for you then—”

Remus had to stop him talking and so he took his face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Sirius did nothing for a moment before tugging at the front of Remus’ robes and trying to pull him closer. When they broke away for air, Sirius had a grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry for dropping the L word on you like that,” Sirius mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

Sirius looked at him with another smile, this one brighter than the star named after him or the moon or even the sun. “You do?”

“Yes. For a long time.”

“Shit. I should’ve said sooner...”

Remus smiled and rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder, Sirius quickly wrapping an arm around him. “Oh, Padfoot?”

“Yeah?”

“If the world ended tonight I’d want you by my side, too.”

[ktheist]

life is yours

muses. professor!fiancee!namjoon x reader x fiancee’s friend!past life husband! expecting father!yoongi

genre. reincarnation au. college au. pregnancy au.

word. 1.7k

x

you loved min yoongi, you’d die for him.

and died for him you did. when the traitors came for your king, you’d leaped in front of him and took a swing of the treacherous sword. history books portrayed him as the king who went mad. the king who slayed hundreds of lives in one night and ruled for fifty more years as a tyrant.

what are histories if not painted with a tragic romance?

they said it was because of you he went mad. because he lost his queen, his breath.

a few hundred years later, he’d found her again. at the age of twenty-seven and you, twenty-two.

his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and you were professor kim namjoon’s student-turned-fiance.

“it’s funny, you know,” you took a whiff of the cigarette and breathe out through your mouth, “we can walk out of our current relationships and ruin everyone’s perception of us, or we can just lead the life we’re living like we didn’t remember anything.”

yoongi squints his eyes as he stares up at the sun. lips tucked downwards, as though telling the universe that after one lifetime too many, he’s unimpressed.

“or we could just run away,” he recalls the flames of the torches of that night - not as bright as today’s sun but just as mocking, “forget about everything and run away.”

“you make it sound so easy,” a laugh escapes your smoke kissed lips, “it’s not as if the people we’ve known and loved are fake, faceless puppets.”

this life is just as real.

though it would’ve gone much different if you’d met each other sooner.

yoongi taps the pointed corner of the invitation card on his palm. it tickles but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation as he held onto the handle of the sword despite it grazing his flesh.

“how far along is she?” his girlfriend, you mean. 

walking into namjoon’s office - the office you’d snuck into a few times too many but felt utterly alien - you saw the porcelain, snow-kissed complexion of your king. all at once, the memories hit you like a rain of shards.

and in each, individual shard, you see the images of your first step, first drawing, first embroidery and the first time you met yoongi. an arrogant boy whom you pushed into the koi pond.

the same boy who smirked at you the whole time during your engagement ceremony while you squirmed in your seat, scheming a runway and an apology at the same time.

and the man who strutted into the room, plopped on the left side of the bed and bade you good night on your first night as a married couple.

it was until three months later, that you trapped him under you and confronted him about it.

you thought yoongi, the crown prince turned king, had a lover. but he loved you too much to hurt you. they said you’re supposed to bleed on your first time. you laughed until your stomach hurt because you were happy beyond words that your husband was abstaining himself for you and not going around fucking a lover behind your back.

not even a year later, you caressed your stomach and giggled to yourself, thinking about yoongi’s stone cold expression turning pink and speechless. that night, the rebellion happened.

your last memories was of him holding you in his arms and calling out your name. 

in this lifetime, your first memory of him is watching him smile a familiar smile that screamed awkwardness as namjoon relayed their youthful tales.

that was, until he got to the part where yoongi’s about to be a father.

all of a sudden, there’s a knot in your stomach. it twists and tightens until you feel like you’re going to puke if you didn’t excuse yourself, saying something about calling your mom that you’d be having dinner with namjoon and letting the two men catch up.

“ten weeks. we’re ten weeks pregnant,” he sucks in a deep, agonized breath - and from the way he’s gazing up at the sky with his hands on his hips, you don’t think he meant to hide his afflictions.

the way he refers to himself and her as ‘we’ makes that knot all the more painful.

“i was a seven weeks pregnant,” you smile softly to yourself, gazing down at your stomach as if you could feel your baby from your previous lifetime.

you shouldn’t have said it.

should’ve just kept quiet.

but-

“they told me you were eight weeks in,” the soft, breathless tone that comes from yoongi is  what makes your heart beat again.

as if you’d come to life. as if min ___, the queen of joseon had come back to tell her king the one thing she wished to say. the one thing she wished for.

a family.

“taeyang. i was going to name him taeyang because he was going to be the sun of the dynasty and bring peace to the nation,” you laugh and it’s the choked up sound that you make that makes you realize you’re on the verge of crying.

“never thought i’d be talking about histories and dynasties with anyone - i hate history,” the confession slips out of you like you’re talking with an old friend. someone you trust wholeheartedly. someone you know you can confide in. 

yoongi was your friend, your lover, your king.

“come with me. i have a savings account, we can start anew somewhere, we can have what we couldn’t have back then.” he turns to you and looks at you in the eye. 

“what about your baby?” you ask because you know it’s meant for his future family.

“i’ll send child support every month,” he says.

“your parents?” you ask because his mother was a concubine and the king barely remembered his name out of the names of his many children.

in this lifetime, from the way namjoon candidly told the story, you know they love their eldest son as much as he loves them.

“they’ll adore you,” he says.

“no one’s gonna love a homewr- ah,” you hiss, dropping the cigarette that was trapped between your fingers until it burned your skin.

“___,” a familiar, deep but less gravelly tone reverberates against the walls as namjoon comes jogging at you like you’re a kid who just bruised her knee.

you study his face and yoongi’s eyes burn holes in your head.

from the way he meets your gaze and gives you ‘your fingers almost got burned and you’re looking at me?’ you think it’s safe to say that he didn’t hear what you were saying.

“i’m fine, i just burned my fingers because i got too engulfed in yoongi’s stories about how you two met,” you laugh at how namjoon’s inspecting your fingers more attentively than a doctor would.

“another reason to include in the long list of reasons not to smoke,” your finacee chides.

“that was my last,” you announce in a higher pitch than your usual voice - and that’s how namjoon knows you’re half-joking, even when you- “i promise.”

“anyways,” you place the injured hand on his chest to distract him - the way yoongi’s jaw tighten doesn’t go past you, “i talked to my dad because apparently my mom was cooking and couldn’t come to the phone and he said to tell you to bring me back before curfew.”

it’s the way namjoon freezes underneath your touch, his eyes blinking once and his soul retreating far back into his subconscious that makes you giggle.

“i’m kidding.”

only then, does he breathe again.

“my mom wasn’t cooking, she was watching her favorite show,” you say again.

it takes a split second for namjoon to put two and two together and tenses up again. as if he feels your father’s hardened gaze behind him. your father didn’t take it too well when you introduced your professor as your boyfriend who proposed to you a week before.

“it was nice meeting you, yoongi, we look forward to see you at our wedding,” you extend a hand, the playful smile reserved for namjoon, now directed at your king.

the king whom you died for. and the king who you’re telling to live his life, as you’ll live yours.

“wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world,” he smiles, his hand grasping yours and you thought you’re going to combust from the electrifying sensation that runs through your veins.

but it’s only short-lived. 

you pull your hand away and he summons his back to his side.

he turns to namjoon and gives him a pat on his shoulder, congratulating him again but this time, with a lingering stare before walking past the two of you and towards the parking lot.

“professor, i’ll get my purse from your office and we’ll be good to go.” you say absently before skipping to the opposite direction of where yoongi was headed.

with each step you take, you hear your heart breaking. just like the pieces of your memories that rains down like shards of glass.

you wonder if you’ll make it through this life without dying of a broken heart.

“i thought we fixed that?” namjoon murmurs behind you, just as you sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

“hm?” you turn to the man leaning against the doorframe, observing you with a crease between his brows.

“you called me professor again,” namjoon mumbles almost as if he’s sulking.

and your heart warms at the tender sight of a grown man acting like a child. you’re reminded of the reason you fell for kim namjoon. his gentle nature was the opposite of yours yet he laughed at your jokes like he laughed off your flirtatious advancements.

he told you he saw you as a student and lent you his scarf when he saw you shaking in the cold while waiting for your uber. the next time he saw you, at 11 pm before the library closes, he offered to drive you home even though his was in the opposite direction from yours.

“namjoon,” you say his name, a smile tucked on your lips as you wrap your arms around his waist and his arm that had been crossed over his chest instantly makes it way around you, “thank you.”

“for what?” his eyes light up like a christmas tree, dimple digging into his cheek.

“for choosing me,” you stand on the tip of your toes and he meets you halfway for the kiss.

and you loved min yoongi, you died for him.

you love kim namjoon, you choose to live the rest of your life with him.

x

note. so like, the title - technically, it’s like oc saying “my life is yours” to both yoongi and namjoon but in different lifetimes :D

[sebastard69]

Shadowbringers Thoughts

I literally only just unlocked Dancing Plague, so I'm like barely halfway? Not even? But I have so many thoughts I want to get out holy shit.

- Absolutely adore the fact the groundwork for this plotline was laid pre-Stormblood, like that shit has me going crazy I swear to GOD.

- The juxtaposition of the way things work on the Source and the First is SO GOOD. Like everything is backwards but it's not, but it is, but it's not. And the fact that understanding this backwards-ness is able to help Urianger figure out Black Rose?? Fuck. So good.

- Everywhere is so pretty. Honestly, even Ahm Araeng and Khalusia were pretty, just in very different ways to the Crystarium and Il Mheg. The music is stunning everywhere I go, all the battle themes have been incredible, and I'm just super in love with everything so far.

- Speaking of locations, I should talk about them: - The Crystarium is amazing and mysterious. I adore that it's this haven for anyone and everyone to find a better way of life and to work together against the Light. The Exarch is crazy powerful, and I want to know how long he's been there. I know the Crystal Tower has only been there for a few decades, but the way he talks, the Exarch has been on the First for much longer. Also, I know the Exarch is G'raha, I just don't know why he's hiding it or what happened to him. How did he wake from stasis, how did he get to the First? WHEN did he get to the First? And if for some reason I'm wrong, where is G'raha? The Exarch says the Tower is the same one in Mor Dhona, though he doesn't know which era he pulled it from. It couldn't have been a past era, because then the Tower wouldn't be in Mor Dhona, and if it's a future era, G'raha would still be asleep there. I definitely don't think I'm wrong though. - Eulmore is pretty, but I really hate it. I hate what it's done to its residents, and the people of Khalusia as a whole. The way people listen to Vauthry unquestioningly and lauds his ways as the only real way to survive the sin eaters feels very similar to Primal tempering, if I'm honest. The citizens of Eulmore seem deaf to reason and logic, much like those who are tempered, and those outside the gates seem ravenous to receive Vauthry's 'generosity' and are convinced it's the only way to live. Those who oppose Vauthry are hurt, and the whole ascension business is just being fed to his pet sin eaters. The only thing I'm not entirely sure on is how so many people were tempered when he doesn't see many of them, and definitely doesn't see those outside the gates. It has to be something in the meol. - Ahm Araeng is very cool, I enjoyed seeing the First's kobolds happily working with people. Honestly, it's nice seeing all the beast tribes' equivalents getting along with people, and gives credence to the idea of being able to live in harmony with one another. My heart broke for the people afflicted by Light, though, and the whole thing with Tesleen was horrifying and saddening. I don't blame Alisaie for wanting to leave immediately, or for needing space after Holminster. - Il Mheg is by far my favorite location at the moment. It's gorgeous, I adore the pixies - especially Feo Ul - and there is just something I really love about things that appear whimsical on the surface, but have the capacity to be horrifying. Like, the pixies "children" being hapless mortals who wandered too close is terrifying, but it's framed in a fun, playful way and I like that. Titania, too, is terrifying. The cutscene where they beg us to come play genuinely scared me a little, and I loved that horror coming from someone so beautiful. Learning about the other fae in the area has been fun, albeit heartbreaking to hear Seto talk of Ardbert and their past together. Getting hit on by a frog was weird, though.

- I like this Minfilia. She's very earnest and wants so badly to be able to do something to help. She's also unfortunately very perceptive, and it genuinely made me cry to hear her talk about how Thancred can't stand to be around her because she isn't his Minfilia. I wish he was less snippy with her, though I can't say I don't understand given the feelings he's grappling with. How are you supposed to make a choice like that? How are you supposed to handle having that knowledge? You're so close to being reunited with someone you care for who you thought lost, only to most likely lose them again. It's... depressing. I wish his behavior didn't affect this Minfilia so, but it does and it's causing her so much anguish, and it's not fair. She's doing the best she can, she's trying so hard, and still he's short and cold and dismissive - and the worst part is that he's doing it in an attempt to not become attached. Because if he isn't attached to her, it'll hurt less if she ends up just another vessel, right?

- Urianger is incredibly hot, ok? Like I don't have a lot else to say on him right now other than I love how well versed he is in fae customs and the fact he's friends with the pixies, but he's so hot in the astro gear. Thancred's gunbreaker get up is also very sexy, and I am way too gay to function around them properly, ok??

- All in all, I am impressed with everything about this expansion thus far. Sound design, location, writing, characterization - all of it is reeling me in and I don't want to stop playing. Unfortunately, the Trust system doesn't extend to trials - though the fight with Sri Lakshmi post-Stormblood says it's possible tbh, and that was just with 4 dps - and I need to sleep and eat sometimes, so I can't just play it all in one sitting. But god, do I want to. I feel ravenous for more of this story.

- Speaking of the Trust system!! I like it so far. I've only done two dungeons so far - Holminster and Dhon Mheg - but I enjoyed it. It takes about twice as long with NPCs as it does with other players, I think, but I can live with that if I'm honest. Panicked in the first dungeon because Alphinaud died and I was like FUCK CAN I RES HIM?? only for Alisaie to do it for me lmao. But otherwise, the experience has been good, and I appreciate the opportunity to learn mechanics. @ squenix: Trust trials when???

[loki-darkprince-odinson]

King Loki, I apologize for the rant but I would like some advice.

My father always makes me feel like complete garbage. He is always putting me down, never appreciates me, and makes my depression so much worse. I'm fixing up a house to move in with my friends but I'm still stuck at the house since my parents won't help me get my license or a car, much less a job. I cook, do dishes, take care of the pets, take out the trash, get the mail, do my laundry, wash towels, and help with their laundry. I also take care of my sick mother and while I'm currently on summer break, I'm going to college to become a clinical psychologist. Even then, my father will point out other things that I don't do, and expects me to clean the entire house every day. He always talks about how he needs to do everything around the house yet all he does is sleep, play video games, and watch television. He also says he works hard yet on many occasions he says he sits on his ass all day on his tablet. He also yells so much. I get scared every day when he starts yelling because I worry he may leave us, which he has threatened before, or he may actually hit us. He never has hit either my mother or I yet, and says he never would but he slams and throws things when angry at us so it's his way of showing us how much he wants to hit us, even if he doesn't realize it. However, not only do I have many responsibilities, My depression makes it difficult for me to do much, and he makes it worse. Even when I do try to clean the house he always makes comments such as: "About time." or "How long until it gets cleaned next time?" or "This was half assed, you didn't do it right." I have tried so hard to have a connection with him but I'm so tired of fighting for a relationship that he doesn't care about. I can't address my concerns with him because he will threaten to not take me to college and pay the bills. Do you have any advice to help me deal with my father until I can escape?

Best regards, Catrina.

“Catrina,” Loki drawls, in his smooth resonate voice. “I firstly must commend your good work. For caring for your ill mother, minding the household needs, and that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest; that you keep on living even if you do not know how to anymore. Secondly, you have my deepest sympathies for your grievances. I am all too familiar with what it is like to seek the approval of a parent; only for there to be none in return.” His eyes were completely unfocused, yet his pallid features bore the most intense concentration as memories flowed unbidden.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, something in the edge of his mouth—and the corner of his eyes—resembled the ghost of a sad smile.

“Those whom I knew and called my mother and father are dead. That much is beyond dispute. They were not my real parents, but they raised me as their own. I daresay they loved me. That had been in dispute, at least in my own mind for awhile. I found out very late that my identity was a lie. Not Asgardian, not a son of Odin, I was completely unmade. That was how I felt when I learned of my true parentage. I was a fraud, a monster; it explained so much. It explained why I never felt like I fit in, why I would never be my brother's equal, why I would never get what I'd been promised my whole life.” His voice was soft, hoarse. Intent.

Loki raises his left hand and rests his forefinger against his lips as a line forms between his own eyebrows in thought.

“I have lingered around Midgard long enough to come to an understanding of how your minds tick. I shall do my best to give advice where I can.

Try, if you will, to put things into perspective. The most loving parents commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force one to destroy the person they really are: a subtle kind of murder. Even the most loving parents damage their children with the best intentions—to protect them, to guide them, to better them. In most cases, it would appear they do it by imprinting their own fears and prejudices on them.

The point is, parents are mere, imperfect people.

They have flaws, struggles and impaired judgement. They have both emotional and intellectual handicaps. Regardless of their parental role, they are afflicted by personal blockages and limitations.

But most of all, they are people who make mistakes, and who are terrified of being judged by their children.

Learn to see your difficult parent as just that; human. Learn to see their emotional immaturity as a type of disability.

With that in mind, you would do well to keep your expectations of them low.

In many ways the effect a difficult parent has on ones self is fueled by their feelings of injustice and the belief that things could be different, or ought to be different.

In other words, your expectations dictate how you feel.

You need to let go of your expectations and accept your parent for who they are.

You cannot expect someone with, say, a narcissistic personality, to act with empathy and kindness. No more than you can expect a scorpion not to sting.

Difficult parents are much easier to deal with when you accept that they will not change. So do not expect of them more than they are capable of, and you will not be disappointed or hurt.

Do not fall into the illusion of guilt, Catrina.” He warns. “A difficult parent loves nothing more than to make you feel like you’ve hurt them. Or, in a different scenario, like you’re a bad person if you do not do something they ask.

Do not fall for it. If they’re setting a guilt trap, calmly tell them that you do not appreciate being emotionally manipulated, and you will not tolerate it anymore.

Manipulators, and I should know, detest being called out on their dirty tricks.

If they continue to harass you, reiterate that you cannot do what they’re asking you to do this time, and you need them to respect that.

The trick is agreeing with everything they’re saying (how can they argue when you agree with them?) and re-stating your decision over and over again.

Now this part I find to be… far more easier said than done. You must let go of the need for your father's approval, Catrina. It goes without saying that every child needs and wants their parents’ approval. It is normal to want it, and it is normal to receive it.

Yet so many have to accept the fact that this is not going to happen. For whatever reason, their parent has chosen to withhold their approval. Some difficult parents do it as a form of punishment. While others hope to influence their child in the “right” direction.

Most likely, your father loves you, but they have a very warped idea of what parental love is.

In their misguided quest to make you into a version of themselves, they missed the chance to get to know you. And so they cannot appreciate you for the wonderful being that you are.”

He shrugs elegantly. “It is their loss. When you realize this and let go of the need for their approval, you will be able to start living your life in a whole new way.

When confronting your father, be direct and calm without expecting a specific response. That is the part you cannot control. The part that is within your control is letting your thoughts and feelings known, which is empowering.

Stick to the facts and use “I” statements such as, “I feel like my words do not matter to you when you constantly interrupt me” or “I feel scared and misunderstood when you yell at me”

Remember that manipulative parents are not known for their empathy. They will try to confuse you, go on the offensive, or assume the role of a victim.

Do not allow them to bully you into submission by invoking guilt or pity. State your case in a calm and polite manner, and stay cool regardless of their response.

Your goal is to be honest about your feelings, and to make it clear that you will not tolerate certain behaviors.” He softly clears his throat.

“Last but not least, an unhappy alternative is forgoing the relationship that is too harmful. I know, a parent is not someone you can so easily cut out of your life. But if all else fails and your father continues to cause you psychological harm, then this may very well need to be taken into considerable consideration; at least for the foreseeable future. Sometimes it is the only logical recourse.

A parent that is fundamentally incapable of showing love and support, unable to see the error of their ways after numerous attempts to communicate how their behavior or words affect you, consistently dismissive, demeaning or critical, manipulative in a habitual manner, punishing and cruel whenever you disobey, are disrespectful of your boundaries and using threats and intimidation to get what they want is a destructive force that will continue to tear you down until you put a stop to it.

It is not an easy feat, my dear. The parent-child bond is hardwired into the brain, which means children get attached to even the most awful of parents.

But consider the cost of having that toxic relationship in your life—stress breeds anxiety, depression, internalized feelings of inadequacy, and failed personal relationships.

I wish you all the best, Catrina. I truly do.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

So if you want can you write a continuation of that AU where NHS dies and NMJ loses it? Anything concerning that AU Bc on one hand I’m curious af about what would happen when NHS is brought back and how everyone is so happy that he’s back bc know NMJ would maybe calm down a little but on the other I really want to know LXC thoughts about this whole disaster?

part 1 here

Lan Xichen waited outside the Cloud Recesses, Shuoyue placed on his lap.

His home was in an uproar: the stories of what had happened in Lanling had come first, chilling the bone, and while they were still trying to decide if they believed it, news came that the Nie army, now swollen with cultivators desperate to use martial valor to escape destruction, was headed in the direction of Gusu. Lan Xichen had asked his uncle and brother to arrange the evacuation of both people and books, as many as possible – they at least had some practice after what had happened with the Wen sect, and sadly, for all of Lan Wangji’s strenuous effort, there were also fewer books to think of.

As for himself, he went to the small clearing down the mountain where visitors always arrived, especially those from Qinghe, and there he sat and waited.

Lan Xichen’s cultivation was extremely high; he did not flatter himself in thinking that in the cultivation world, the number of people who could rival him could be counted on one hand.

Nie Mingjue was the same.

If Nie Mingjue came – no. Lan Xichen should not cloud his mind with illusions. The Nie sect’s army was on its way; the question was not if Nie Mingjue was coming, it was when – and what would happen once he arrived.

If they would fight, and if they did, who would win, and what would happen next.

Lan Xichen still found the entire thing hard to believe. That Nie Mingjue would do such a terrible thing, that he would kill so many people without warning or declaration, without giving them a fair chance to fight back…it went against everything he knew of the man.

Nie Mingjue was not only his sworn brother, but his friend of many years – for the entire time he had known him, Nie Mingjue had always been well-meaning and well-intentioned, upright and righteous, even sometimes too strict with it, unwilling to give allowances for weakness. He’d always wanted to do the right thing. Even when they’d met as children, brought along to observe the sect leaders’ talks during the Discussion Conferences and bonding over the boredom of it, he had always thought first of what he should do, of what was right. Both for himself, and for his younger brother.

They’d bonded over that, too: Lan Xichen had Wangji, and Nie Mingjue had Huaisang.

He didn’t have Huaisang any longer.

That didn’t seem real, either.

Little Huaisang, with his fans and his laziness, his curving eyes as he smiled and the coquettish way he whined about the burden of having to practice his saber – gone, now. Gone forever.

Lan Xichen might have understood it if he’d died during the war. But to have it happen now, now, when they were meant to be at peace…

He still had the first letter he’d received informing him of the tragedy. It was in Jin Guangyao’s handwriting, each line thick with devastation: an accident, he’d said. Nie Huaisang had gotten lost on a night-hunt, ended up somewhere dangerous, an area that unexpectedly contained fearsome creatures that no one had expected to be there, and with his low cultivation…Jin Guangyao had blamed himself for not keeping a closer watch on him, for having allowed him to come along, for all of it, even though it seemed quite clear from the letter that he could not truly be held accountable.

You must tell me how I can break this news to da-ge, Jin Guangyao had written. You do not know how it pains me to think of what this will do to him. He will blame me, as I blame myself – I would not mind it even if he beat me; it would help assuage the pain I feel at what has come to pass on my watch. But you know that da-ge has always been suspicious of me beyond all reason, and there are those who ascribe malice to all of my actions: how can I convince him that this result was not something I desired?

Lan Xichen’s first instinct had been to volunteer to break the news to Nie Mingjue himself. It would be painful, seeing his friend’s heart break – he’d seen so many hearts break during the war, his own not least of all at hearing of his father’s death; there were widows and widowers, children losing their parents before their time and white-haired parents burying their black-haired children, brothers and sisters all…this would have been the worst of the lot. But surely it would be better coming from him than any other?

Surely he would be able to calm Nie Mingjue and offer comfort to his grief; yes, better it be him than yet another pointless fight between his two sworn brothers.

There was a draft letter on his desk, half-written, that told Jin Guangyao to wait for him, that he would come, that he would stand by his side so that he wouldn’t have to explain it alone –

He’d never had a chance to finish it.

Who knew how he’d found out, but Nie Mingjue had come to Lanling to collect his brother’s body the very next day. He hadn’t said anything, ignoring greetings and condolences alike, disregarding all offers for him to rest or eat something to recover his strength; he merely picked up Nie Huaisang’s corpse from the coffin it had been tentatively laid to rest in and walked right back out again.

One report claimed that he hadn’t said a word the whole time.

Perhaps there had been another letter, half-written just like his own, on Jin Guangyao’s desk: laying out his worry at Nie Mingjue’s unusual silence, expressing concern for Nie Mingjue’s health – especially given his temperament, which had lately been worsening – and asking for advice…

Lan Xichen would never know, now. Jin Guangyao’s desk at Lanling was very likely ashes, along with any letter that it might have contained – Jin Guangyao himself, too, was likely…

There was a disturbance in the air, and Lan Xichen raised his head.

A single figure approached, the familiar shape unmistakable.

Alone.

Lan Xichen’s fingers tightened for a moment, and then released.

Lan Xichen waited until Nie Mingjue had jumped down from his saber, Baxia obediently returning to his back – his back, not his hand, which he supposed was a good sign, just as coming without his army was a good sign. It meant that there was still room to talk.

Nie Mingjue didn’t do anything after that, though: he did not greet Lan Xichen at all, a minor breach of etiquette that Lan Xichen would have been amused by if he hadn’t heard of far worse breaches by Nie Mingjue lately, not merely of etiquette but even of basic morality, of righteousness itself, of the laws of war that Nie Mingjue had once valued so highly…

Eventually, the silence became too much, and so Lan Xichen spoke first. “You took longer to come here than I expected.”

The stories said that anyone who could have had anything to do with Nie Huaisang’s death was being hunted – anyone who benefited, anyone who stood by and did nothing, anyone related in any way at all. Most certainly anyone who was involved in setting it up.

By that standard, Nie Mingjue should have come here much faster.

After all, it had been Lan Xichen who had urged Nie Huaisang to visit Lanling, knowing that Jin Guangyao wanted to see him, knowing, too, that his sworn brother hoped to use his kindness towards the little brother as a means of appeasing the elder; it was he who had convinced Nie Mingjue to allow the visit, he who paved the path that had led to Nie Huaisang’s dead end –

If Nie Huaisang had truly been murdered, and Jin Guangyao in fact the culprit, the way the stories said – the stories that must be wrong – then the very next one to blame would be Lan Xichen himself.

“We were friends,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen winced involuntarily at the inclusion of the word that meant that it was something that had been in the past, and was no longer.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t angry in the way Lan Xichen would have found familiar: rage that consumed him, yelling and harsh gestures, even breaking things around him. His voice was heavy as stone and just as indifferent, and looking into his eyes – if Lan Xichen couldn’t sense his friend’s overwhelming yang energy, same as it ever was, he might have thought that it was Nie Mingjue who had died instead of Nie Huaisang.

“How sure are you?” Lan Xichen asked, rather than deal with that – with what that meant. With the suggestion that Nie Mingjue would have preferred to spare him, for their past friendship, but that in the end he had decided that he couldn’t.

With the suggestion that it was, in fact, still Nie Mingjue underneath there: the old familiar one, who argued long and loud that principle should be the most important thing – more than friendship, more than mercy, more than anything, except maybe the overriding principles of filial duty and familial responsibility.

It wasn’t some demon who had grown out of a broken heart, some possession or afflicted temperament; it wasn’t even a qi deviation that twisted a good man’s character into something else.

It was Nie Mingjue, who had once been his friend.

“How sure are you that it was him that caused it?” he asked again. It was pointless to argue in Jin Guangyao’s defense one final time, futile, his friend was dead, as dead as Nie Huaisang was, but perhaps it could help him rescue this friend from his madness – or rescue Lan Xichen and his sect from the man’s blade. Nie Mingjue’s paranoia had been worsening recently, along with his temperament, but Lan Xichen had never dreamed it would end up like this. “That it was – that it was intentional, malicious? They say you never asked for an explanation, so how can you be certain that –”

“I am sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “There can be no doubt. Men lie. Sabers don’t.”

Lan Xichen frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Huaisang had his saber with him when died,” Nie Mingjue said - explaining, patient, the way he was in the best of times. He didn’t seem like the insane killer that had destroyed an entire sect, and it certainly didn’t seem as though he were about to try to stab him with Baxia.

Lan Xichen might have preferred that. He didn’t know what to do with a Nie Mingjue as indifferent as the dead.

“I told you long ago that the Nie sect buries sabers, not people, and I told you why,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I told you about the saber spirits, how they long to destroy evil…Huaisang was a terrible cultivator, but he’s still a Nie, he still has a golden core, and his saber has a spirit, however weak, that is capable of desiring vengeance. Why would I bother asking a nest of snakes to lie to me? His saber knew what his final moments were like.”

Lan Xichen shuddered, realizing what that meant. “You – saw them?”

“I did.”

“You saw Huaisang die,” Lan Xichen repeated, the horror of it afresh: bad enough that Nie Mingjue’s brother had died – the thought of losing Lan Wangji causing an automatic burst of empathetic pain – but to think that Nie Mingjue had watched, had seen it the way he’d seen his father’s final moments…no wonder the man had lost his mind and morals. “And…A-Yao…you saw him…?”

“We three swore an oath not to betray each other, or to give aid to anyone who did,” Nie Mingjue said. “All of us, the three of us – do you remember? Whoever did so would face a thousand accusing fingers, be torn from limb to limb…do you remember?”

“I remember,” Lan Xichen said.

“I am here,” Nie Mingjue said, and his tone was still indifferent, still like stone, “in fulfillment of that oath.”

Lan Xichen’s fingers tightened around Shuoyue. “You blame me.”

Nie Mingjue did not respond, but then, he didn’t need to. It was Lan Xichen who insisted, time and time again, that Jin Guangyao be trusted – it was he who had arranged the entire outing. It had been his idea…at Jin Guangyao’s suggestion, yes, but he had accepted the idea and presented it as his own.

He had done it because he’d known Nie Mingjue would have refused if it had come from Jin Guangyao directly.

Jin Guangyao had known that, too. Had he – on purpose –

No. Surely not. The A-Yao he’d known would never have done that.

But – this wasn’t merely paranoia or dislike, the way he thought it would be based on Jin Guangyao’s fears in his letter. No: Nie Mingjue claimed to have seen it. And whatever he had seen, it had given him the certainty he required to take his saber to the entire Jin sect, man and woman alike, in a night attack of the sort he’d refused to wage even against the Wens, who he hated. A vicious attack, like a dog that had lost all reason.

Lan Xichen didn’t know what to believe.

“I understand your grief,” Lan Xichen said, and he did. If it had been Wangji… “Did you have to kill them all?”

“Kill the chicken to warn the monkey,” Nie Mingjue said simply. “No sect will ever style themselves as the inheritor of the Wens, whether in power or in willingness to – to sacrifice those they see as unnecessary, as a matter of politics.”

“And my sect? Let us say that I would acknowledge my guilt, and set down my sword – must they share my fate?”

“If I had not trusted in the reputation of the Lan sect, would I have believed you and let my enemy through the gates? Would Huaisang be dead now, if not for the renowned truthfulness of the Lan sect?”

Lan Xichen closed his eyes. “If you will not spare my sect, I cannot set down my sword.”

“I’m sorry, Xichen. You had to learn one day that there are things for which an apology is not enough.”

Nie Mingjue genuinely looked saddened by it all; that was the worst of it. It would hurt him to fight Lan Xichen, to kill him; it would stain his soul to kill his sect, who he’d loved almost like a second home.

Still, it was not a surprise. Lan Xichen knew his friend too well: from the moment Nie Mingjue had decided to cast off his righteousness, to lift his saber in revenge, he would never have spared himself the consequences of that decision – that one of the men he’d have to kill would be his own friend, that he would be the one who burned down the Cloud Recesses this time.

The massacre at the Jin sect was an atrocity, but one that could be understood. The rest of it…even Nie Mingjue would never forgive himself for what he was about to do here. He would do it regardless, because he believed it had to be done, and when the work was done, Nie Huaisang avenged in a world filled with blood, Baxia’s last victim would very likely be Nie Mingjue himself.

Lan Xichen didn’t want to see that.

He didn’t know how to stop it, either.

He exhaled, hard, and stood up, unsheathing Shuoyue. “Then we fight.”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said, and Baxia came to his hand; the steel seemed to glow red as if anticipating the blood it would soon draw. Baxia only did that in the presence of evil – it seemed Nie Mingjue’s saber agreed with the man’s assessment of the situation; Lan Xichen had been judged guilty, and sentenced accordingly. “We fight.”

part 3 here

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Star Trek Episode 1.24: This Side of Paradise

AKA Yet Another Creepy Utopia Planet

Our episode begins with the Enterprise heading in to orbit around an Earthy-looking planet named Omicron Ceti 3. Omicon Ceti is a real star, by the way—also known as Mira or Mira A, it’s a red giant and part of a binary star system with its sister Mira B. It’s not a real likely place to go looking for such a nice homey sort of planet, though, because Mira is a pulsating variable star, which means its size and brightness is constantly fluctuating, and it’s hard to evolve life when your sun keeps flickering like a neon sign in a noir movie all the time.

Uhura reports to Kirk that she’s been transmitting a contact signal every five minutes just as he ordered, but she’s only getting dead air in response.  Kirk tells her to keep it up until they get into orbit, then moves on to talk to Spock. “There were one hundred fifty men, women and children in that colony,” he says. “What are the chances of survivors?”

Looks like the chances are, uh...not great. And by ‘not great’ I mean ‘nonexistent’. Spock explains that ‘Bertold rays’ are a recent enough discovery that there’s still a lot not known about them, but one thing that is for sure known is that exposure to these rays causes living animal tissue to disintegrate. Nasty. Evidently this planet is heavily exposed to these rays, because a group of colonists-- “Sandoval’s group”-- came here only three years ago and Spock says there’s no possibility they could have survived. Well why the heck would anyone build a colony in such a place? All Spock can say is “They knew there was a risk.”

Kirk questions whether they can risk sending a landing party down under such conditions, but Spock says the disintegration doesn’t start immediately, so they’ll be alright if they don’t stick around too long. The helmsman reports that they’ve successfully established orbit, and he’s found a settlement—or at least, something that was a settlement at one point. Kirk tells Spock to equip a landing party of five to accompany him down there, including a biologist and McCoy. That’s gonna be a fun mission briefing. “Yes, we're beaming down to a planet bombarded with deadly radiation, but no need to worry, crew, your tissues will probably only disintegrate a little bit."

Sometime later, the landing party—Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Sulu, a blueshirt and a goldshirt—materialize into a meadow near a dirt path and a picket fence. They’ve thoughtfully arranged themselves into a nice alternating pattern.

[ID: A shot of a sunny meadow with a dirt road, a few trees and a white picket fence in the background. Newly beamed down are six Enterprise crewmembers standing in two rows: in the front are Kirk and Spock, in the back are McCoy, a goldshirt, a blueshirt, and Sulu.]

The goldshirt, incidentally, is DeSalle, who we last saw back in The Squire of Gothos. The character was originally written for this story as Lt. Timothy Fletcher, but was changed to DeSalle after the production crew realized they’d cast an actor who had already appeared in the series. Yes, really. AGAIN. The blueshirt is Kelowitz, who showed up briefly in The Galileo Seven and Arena, and likewise started out as another character but was renamed after being cast. I don’t know how this situation managed to happen so often on TOS, but apparently it did. At least they both seem to have managed to hold onto more or less the same positions that they had the last time we saw them, a rare feat for any minor TOS crewmember.

The group walks forward towards some nearby farm buildings arranged around a dirt yard, with a horse-drawn cart sitting out in front of one of them. But there’s no horse to be seen, and no people either. They wander through the yard and over toward what looks like a paddock, but without any animals in it. Everything seems quite thoroughly deserted.

Kirk leans on the paddock fence and glumly muses, “Another dream that failed. There’s nothing sadder. It took these people a year to make the trip from Earth. They came all that way...and died.” Hold on, it took them a year? What, do they not give colony ships warp drives? Did they have to hitchhike here?

“Hardly that, sir,” someone says, and suddenly we see three men in green jumpsuits standing at the edge of the yard, looking very relaxed and also very not dead.

As the landing party all turn around to stare in shock the man in front strides forward and says, “Welcome to Omicron Ceti 3. I’m Elias Sandoval.” McCoy looks like he’s getting ready to spray the dude with holy water.

After the titles, we get a brief captain’s log to sum things up, just in case everyone forgot what happened during the commercial break:

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 3417.3. We thought our mission to Omicron Ceti 3 would be an unhappy one. We had expected to find no survivors of the agricultural colony there. Apparently, our information was incorrect.”

The colonists start happily shaking hands with the landing party—but happily as in “oh, it’s so nice to meet you” not “oh thank god you came to rescue us we’re all on the brink of death”. Sandoval says they haven’t seen anyone outside the colony since they left Earth four years ago, although they’ve been expecting someone to come by for a while. Apparently their subspace radio didn’t work right and they don’t have anyone who could “master its intricacies”. Now, I’m no expert on establishing colonies on alien planets, but ‘person who can work our only communication device’ does rather seem like a position you would want to make sure was filled before you left.

Kirk has to explain that they haven’t come to visit because of the dead radio. He does not explain why they did decide to come when they did. Spock’s comment about the colonists knowing there was a risk indicates that whether or not Bertold rays specifically were known about before the colonists left, they at least had reason to believe there was something dangerous about the planet. So why’d the Federation let them go and then wait another three years before sending anyone to check up on them? Eh, probably just another failing of twenty-third century space bureaucracy.

Sandoval’s not bothered about it, though. He tells Kirk that it doesn’t make much difference—the important thing is the party is here now and the colonists are happy to see them. Then he invites them on a tour of the settlement and casually strolls off, leaving the landing party to stand there and try to process what the hell they just witnessed.

“Pure speculation, just an educated guess...I’d say that man is alive,” McCoy says. Thanks Bones.

Spock says that his scans show that the planet is getting ray’d just as their reports indicated, so that’s not the issue. Under this intensity, the landing party could safely hang out here for a week if necessary, as per the usual Star Trek rule that you can be exposed to a deadly thing and be just fine up until the exact moment it kills you, but there’s a mighty big difference between a week and three years. Or as Kirk succinctly puts it, “These people shouldn’t be alive.”

“Is it possible they’re not?” Sulu asks. Great out of the box thinking there Sulu, love it.

Kirk takes a moment to consider that, which is fair—compared to the kind of weird shit they’ve encountered so far, the walking dead wouldn’t even stand out that much. But McCoy points out that when they shook hands with Sandoval, “His flesh was warm. He’s alive. There’s no doubt about that.” Spock fires back with a reminder that, “There’s no miracle connected with [Bertold rays], doctor, you know that. No cures, no serums, no antidotes. If a man is exposed long enough, he dies.” Okay dude, calm down, all McCoy said was “he’s alive” not “my god! Bertold rays have been fake all along! wake up sheeple!"

As Kirk points out, this whole debate is pretty pointless anyway for the moment—they’re arguing in a vacuum, and they’ll need more answers if they want to get anywhere. So they go to follow Sandoval, who leads them towards a nearby farm house, while a few colonists do various farm chores nearby. Sandoval explains that the colonists split into three groups, with forty-five people at this settlement and two more settlements elsewhere on the planet. Apparently they thought that arrangement would give each group a better chance for growth, since if some disaster struck one group the other two would probably still be alright.

“Omicron is an ideal agricultural planet,” he says. “We determined not to suffer the fate of the expeditions that went before us.” It’s rather vague what expeditions he’s referring to here, since at no other point in the episode are any previous attempts at settling Omicron Ceti 3 mentioned. But given that Sandoval specifically mentions the possibility of disease afflicting one group as a reason to split up, and Spock earlier said that Bertold rays were a recent discovery—and that the colonists knew coming to Omicron Ceti 3 was risky-- it seems possible that previous groups tried to settle the planet and, without knowing about the Bertold rays, mistook their effects for some kind of disease native to the planet. Of course that doesn’t explain why this group of colonists decided it would be a good idea to try to settle here again anyway, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few months, it’s that not everyone sees the possibility of dying to a terrible disease as a compelling reason to change their plans in any way.

As they stand in the farmhouse talking about this, a woman steps forward from another room in the house. She’s in soft focus, just in case we might forget she’s a woman, and instead of the green jumpsuit all the male colonists are wearing, she’s wearing green overalls over a lavender shirt, a combination that somehow manages to be an even worse fashion disaster than the jumpsuits themselves. She starts to say something to Sandoval, then stops in surprise as she sees the landing party. But for once the romance-o-vision isn’t for Kirk—it’s Spock that the camera zooms in on as the woman stares at him.

“Layla, come meet our guests,” Sandoval says cheerfully, oblivious to the wistfully romantic background music. He introduces her as Layla Colomi, their botanist. Layla says that she and Spock have met before, but “It’s been a long time.” Kirk gives Spock a bit of a side-eye for that, but Spock offers no details.

Well, all romantic tension aside, they do still have a mission to attend to here, as Kirk reminds Sandoval. Sandoval tells them to go ahead with any examinations or tests they want. “I think you’ll find our settlement an interesting one. Our philosophy is a simple one: that men should return to a less complicated life. We have few mechanical things here, no vehicles, no weapons. We have harmony here. Complete peace.” Oh yeah, that bodes well. Remember the last place we saw complete harmony and peace? At least that explains why everyone on this farm is using equipment straight out of Stardew Valley, which is presumably not the most advanced agricultural technology available by the twenty-third century. I’m not sure why Sandoval’s idea of a simpler lifestyle excludes vehicles, though. They’re not exactly the most recent thing on the timeline of human technological advancements.

Sandoval tells the landing party to make themselves at home, and they all head off. All except for Spock, who lingers just a few seconds more to give Layla a completely neutral look before walking away as well.

Everyone goes off to conduct their respective investigations. Sulu and Kelowitz wander through a yard over towards another farm building. Kelowitz isn’t sure what exactly they should be looking for, though. “Whatever doesn’t look right—whatever that is,” Sulu replies, climbing up to sit on a railing on the building’s porch. “When it comes to farms, I wouldn’t know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me.” I hope you enjoyed that line, because “didn’t grow up on a farm” is about all the backstory TOS is going to give us for Sulu until the movies.

[ID: Three screenshots showing Sulu pulling himself up to sit on the railing of an old-fashioned farmhouse as he says, "When it comes to farms, I wouldn't know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me." Growing up from the ground nearby are two large plants with thick brownish-purple stems and large pink flowers on top.]

Hey Sulu, what's that about two feet from you? Oh well, I'm sure it's not important.

Kelowitz opens up a nearby barn and notes that there’s no cows there—in fact, the barn isn’t even built for cows, just for storage, and indeed it only looks big enough to be useful for holding cow, singular. Having a storage barn isn’t itself that weird, although the fact that there is nothing currently stored in the storage barn is a bit strange. But also, as Sulu points out, come to think of it, they haven’t seen any animals here, native or imported. No cows, no horses, no pigs, not even a dog. Which is a bit odd for an agricultural colony. They must have had or expected to have animals at some point—otherwise what was pulling that cart?

Back in the house, Sandoval is asking Layla about Spock (once again referred to as a ‘Vulcanian’). She says that she knew Spock on Earth, six years ago. Sandoval, apparently having noticed the dreamy background music by now, asks if Layla loved Spock. She says that if she did, “it was important only to myself...Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me. It is said he has none to give.”

“Would you like him to stay with us now? To be one of us?” Sandoval asks. Layla smiles at him. “There is no choice, Elias,” she says. “He will stay.”

Elsewhere in the house, McCoy is scanning a colonist. He doesn’t look exactly happy with the tricorder result he gets, but all he says is, “That’ll be all, thank you very much,” and the colonist leaves, passing Kirk coming in. Incidentally, I can’t help but note that this room contains two paintings on the wall and what appears to be a cabinet full of china. I suppose the paintings could have been done by a colonist, but the china could surely only have been brought there. Who decided to pack fancy china on a year-long space voyage to an agricultural colony?

[ID: A shot of the interior of a farmhouse with blue walls, with a large wooden table in the middle of the room, a cabinet with china and glassware in the corner, a wooden desk with a copper tea kettle and some other kitchen items on it against the back wall, and a painting hanging on the wall showing some blurry trees. Sandoval, a middle-aged white man with short brown hair wearing a green jumpsuit, walks past the camera as he says, "Oh, captain, I've been looking for you."]

Kirk asks if McCoy’s found anything yet. McCoy replies that he’s surveyed nine men so far, ranging in age from twenty-three to fifty-nine. And they’re all in perfect condition. Not just healthy—perfect. Textbook responses across the board, from all of them. “If there are many more of them,” McCoy muses, “I can throw away my shingle.”

At that point Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s Spock, calling in from one of the crop fields. He’s made the same observation as Sulu—there’s no life on the planet aside from the colonists and the plants. No animals, no insects. Spock doesn’t have any explanation yet, so Kirk tells him to carry on with his investigation and hangs up.

McCoy notes the absence of animals as peculiar, and Kirk says it’s especially so because the expedition records show that they did bring animals with them to raise for food. And pull their carts, presumably. But it seems none of them are still around. McCoy says he’d like to see the expedition’s medical records, a request Kirk has apparently anticipated because he’s got the floppy disc on hand with him.

Sandoval comes in and says that he’d like to take the two of them on a tour of the fields, to show off what the colony’s accomplished. McCoy says he’ll have to bow out, since he’s still working on the medical examinations. “However, if I find everyone else’s health to be as perfect as yours...”

“You’ll find no weaklings here,” Sandoval says, which uh, sure is a hell of a way to phrase that. “No weaklings! None of those miserable, pathetic sods with imperfect health! Only the strong survive! THE SLIGHTEST BLEMISH SHALL BE CAUSE FOR EXILE!”

Leaving McCoy behind, Kirk and Sandoval head out to the fields, where Sandoval gushes to Kirk about how great this place is: they’ve got moderate climate, moderate rains all year round, and the soil will grow anything they stick in it. Which is pretty miraculous, considering there’s no such thing as growing conditions that are perfect for every plant. But as we’re about to see, that’s not the only weird thing going on with their farming practices.

The conversation is interrupted by DeSalle arriving to give Kirk the biology report. Sandoval excuses himself to attend to work elsewhere, leaving Kirk and DeSalle alone to discuss the report. At first, it seems to be just as Sandoval said: they’ve got a variety of crops growing here successfully. The weird thing is that they don’t actually have very many of those crops. There’s enough to keep the colony going at the size it currently is, but barely more than that. Which tracks with what we’ve seen of the place so far: a couple of tiny fields that look more about the size for someone’s backyard garden than for a prosperous farm, tended by the occasional person idly scratching at the ground with a hoe. For a supposedly bounteous agricultural colony, that’s pretty weird. What have they been doing all this time?

“It’s like a jigsaw puzzle all one color,” Kirk muses, taking a moment to stroll a few steps away so he can say this dramatically in the distance instead of actually talking to DeSalle. “No key to where the pieces fit in. Why?”

Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s McCoy, saying Kirk had better get back over there. “Trouble?” “No, but I’d like you to see this for yourself.” Of course. No one can ever just explain something over the phone, can they.

So Kirk heads back to the house, where the thing that Kirk just absolutely has to see for himself turns out to be McCoy just telling him what he’s found out, but he definitely couldn't do that over the communicator for, uh, reasons. What he’s found out is pretty interesting, though: McCoy checked up on Sandoval’s medical records from right before the colonists had left, which said that Sandoval had had an appendectomy, and had scar tissue on his lungs from childhood pneumonia (the weakling!). Yet when McCoy scanned Sandoval himself today, the results came back just as perfect as all the other colonists’. Kirk’s first thought is instrument failure, but McCoy says no, he thought of that and tested it by scanning himself, and it recorded him just fine, down to “those two broken ribs I had once.” Which sounds like an interesting story. But Sandoval’s scan? No scar tissue, and one healthy appendix. That’s right, Sandoval’s apparently managed to regrow an entire organ. Do you think you would notice that happening? Like, would it itch?

While Kirk and McCoy try to figure that out, Spock is hanging out in a field scanning with his own tricorder, while Layla stands nearby smiling ominously at him. Spock muses that there’s “Nothing. Not even insects. Yet your plants grow, and you’ve survived exposure to Bertold rays.” Yeah, how are those plants growing without insects? Presumably the native plants have evolved some way around that, but the ones the colonists have brought from Earth would need some help. Are the colonists just manually pollinating everything? Maybe that’s why they haven’t grown very much.

Layla says this can be explained, but when asked to do so, she just says, “Later.” Spock looks annoyed and remarks, “I have never understood the female capacity to avoid a direct answer to any question.” Hey! Cut that bullshit out. No one on this colony has directly answered a question since you got here, there’s no call to go ragging on a whole gender for it. Besides, just saying “Later,” is hardly a stunningly deft diversion, it’s not like she threw a smoke bomb down and disappeared.

“And I never understood you,” Layla says, walking over and placing a hand on his chest. “Until now. There was always a place in here where no one could come. There was only the face you allow people to see. Only one side you’d allow them to know.”

[ID: Three screenshots of Spock and Layla, a white woman with a lot of long blonde hair wearing a lilac shirt and green overalls, standing outside in a field with a large tree in the background. Layla, seen from behind, is pressing her hand to Spock's upper chest and saying, "There was always a place in here where no one could come." Spock replies "you know that's not where my heart is right".]

If Layla was hoping this little speech would prompt Spock to cry out that yes, she’s figured him out, he does love her but has never been able to show it! she’s disappointed, because he just looks uncomfortable and steps away. He tries to steer the conversation back onto the mystery of the colonists. “If I tell you how we survive,” she asks, “will you try to understand how we feel about our life here? About each other?”

That’s a pretty vague thing to make a promise about, so Spock deflects by saying that emotions are alien to him; he’s a SCIENTIST. “Someone else might believe that—your shipmates, your captain—but not me,” Layla says. Oh sure! Obviously none of the people who have lived, worked, and risked death alongside Spock can be expected to know anything about Spock. Only you are the Spock Expert, gifted with incredible insight by virtue of having a crush on him.

“Come,” she says, sauntering off through the field with her hand outstretched to him. Spock rather pointedly folds his hands behind his back instead and follows her.

Back in the house, Kirk and McCoy are struggling to have a conversation with Sandoval. Kirk tells Sandoval that he’s received orders from Starfleet Command to evacuate everyone on the colony, since, y’know, deadly rays and all that. He expects Sandoval to start making preparations. But Sandoval, calmly, casually, says, “No.” It’s not necessary, he insists—they’re in no danger.

But...but the Bertold rays. Sandoval is unmoved,  pointing out that as McCoy’s own instruments show, the colonists are in perfect health and there have been no deaths. Okay, what about all those animals? What happened to them? “We’re vegetarians,” Sandoval says blithely. Which, as Kirk points out, does absolutely nothing to answer the question. Actually it raises further questions.

Sandoval remains thoroughly unbothered and thoroughly unhelpful. “Captain, you stress very unimportant matters. We will not leave,” he says, and goes back to gazing out the window, evidently considering the conversation over.

Elsewhere, Spock and Layla are still walking, and Spock is getting annoyed that Layla still hasn’t explained just what it is they’re going to see. “Its basic properties and elements are not important,” Layla says helpfully. “What is important is that it gives life, peace, love.” Oh boy.

Spock is dubious, but Layla pulls him forward, over towards another one of those large pink flowers. “I was one of the first to find them,” Layla says. “The spores.”

[ID: A gif of Spock approaching a large pinkish-purple flower and saying, "Spores?" The flower then sprays a cloud of white spores all over his face and torso while Spock recoils.]

For a moment Spock just looks startled, but then he starts clutching his head and falling onto his knees in the grass, dropping his tricorder and gasping, “No--” For the first time all episode, Layla’s absolute serenity starts to fracture slightly. Over Spock’s agonized protests, she insists that it shouldn’t hurt—it didn’t hurt any of them. But, as Spock gasps out, he’s not like them. Whoops, did the biologist forget to account for biological differences before handing out a facefull of spores? I bet you didn’t even check if he had any allergies first, did you?

Just as it’s looking like this might put actually put a crack in Layla’s blissed-out impassivity, Spock stops thrashing about and starts seeming less anguished and more confused. Layla’s concern vanishes once again, and she goes back to smiling happily while stroking his face. “Now...now you belong to all of us...and we to you. There’s no need to hide your inner face any longer. We understand.”

Spock still seems unsure, but then he takes Layla’s hand in his and smiles. Not the slight hint of a smile or sardonic quirk of the lips you’d expect to see from Spock, but a huge, broad grin from ear to ear. “I love you...I can love you,” he says, and then he kisses her.

Hoo boy.

After the break, we get a quick Captain’s Log to recap:

“Captain’s Log, supplemental. We have been ordered by Starfleet Command to evacuate the colony on Omicron 3. However, the colony leader, Elias Sandoval, has refused all cooperation and will not listen to any arguments.”

Sure enough, we see Sandoval exiting the farmhouse, followed by McCoy and an extremely frustrated Kirk. “Captain, your arguments are very valid, but do they not apply to us,” Sandoval says, as calm as ever. He tries to walk off, but Kirk grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“My orders are to remove all the colonists,” he says, “and that’s exactly what I intend to do with or without your help.”

“Without, I should think,” Sandoval says, and strolls off, leaving Kirk standing there fuming.

Sulu and Kelowitz come walking up to report that they’ve checked out everything and it all seems normal, except for the missing animals. Of course, they also both said they had no idea what to look for in the first place, so maybe take that with a grain of salt. Kirk tells them about the evacuation orders, and says he wants landing parties to start gathering the colonists and preparing them to leave. And by the way, where did Spock and DeSalle go? Sulu says they haven’t seen either one in some time, but McCoy says DeSalle was going to examine some native plants he found. Native plants, huh? I think we can guess what happened to DeSalle.

Since Spock still hasn’t reported in, Kirk gives him a call. Or tries to, at least—Spock doesn’t pick up. On the other end of the line, we see why that is: Spock's communicator is laying abandoned on the ground, while Spock himself, now dressed in the same horrible green jumpsuit as the colonists, is stretched out on the grass with Layla, watching clouds. The communicator beeps away while Spock happily describes how one of the clouds looks like a dragon. "I've never seen a dragon," Layla says. BEEP BEEP. "I have." BEEP BEEP. "On Barengarius 7." BEEP BEEP. "But I've never stopped to look at clouds before." BEEP BEEP. "Or rainbows." BEEP BEEP. "You know, I can tell you exactly why one appears in the sky, but considering its beauty has always been out of the question." BEEP BEEP.

"Not here," Layla says (beep beep), and they smile dreamily at each other before going into another makeout session. Meanwhile, Kirk is still on the line, and not getting any happier about it. Layla finally picks up the communicator and holds it up for Spock, who takes a break from kissin' to say, "Yes, what did you want?"

Naturally, this throws both Kirk and McCoy for a loop. While McCoy stands there with a "what the fuck" look on his face, Kirk takes a moment to recover and then demands, "Spock, is that you?"

"Yes, captain, what did you want?"

"Where are you?"

"...I don't believe I want to tell you."

[ID: Three shots of Kirk and McCoy standing in front of the farmhouse, Kirk holding his communicator while McCoy looks on. Kirk has a stunned expression on his face and looks around with his mouth open, trying to figure out what to say.]

Kirk plows on ahead, telling Spock that, whatever the hell he thinks he's doing, he's got orders: they're getting the colonists out, and Spock is to meet back at the settlement in ten minutes.

"No, I don't think so," Spock says casually. "You don't think so, what?" "I don't think so, sir."

Kirk has to take a moment after that one. It's rather amazing that McCoy's made it this far into the conversation without saying anything himself. Presumably he's just in shock. Eventually Kirk tells Spock to report in immediately, but by now Spock and Layla have gone back to kissing, leaving the communicator open but abandoned in the grass once more.

"That didn't sound at all like Spock, Jim," McCoy says, putting in his bid for the Enterprise’s bi-weekly Massive Understatement contest.

"No, it--I thought you said you might like him if he mellowed a little."

"I didn't say that!"

"You said that."

"Not exactly,” McCoy protests, and then somewhat grudgingly adds, “He might be in trouble.”

I'm sure McCoy did say that, or something like it, but "I hope Spock has his brain taken over by alien spores" was presumably not where he was going with it. He obviously sees this sudden change of behavior as something to be concerned about--even moreso than Kirk, who seems more irritated than anything. But then, it's only been a couple episodes since McCoy had his own run-in with an alien influence making people act a lot more mellow than usual, and he didn't enjoy that experience at all, so it's not surprising that "trouble" is his first thought here.

Kirk tells McCoy to take over the landing party detail and start getting the colonists up to the ship, and to make sure the party works in teams of two, with nobody being left alone. Meanwhile, Kirk himself takes Sulu and Kelowitz and heads off to find Spock, using the open frequency from Spock's communicator as a homing signal. They follow a dirt path out of the main settlement and soon find said communicator, laying open and abandoned in the grass just off the path. As Kirk picks it up, they hear laughter nearby, and Sulu points in astonishment further down the path, where Layla is watching Spock dangle upside-down from a tree branch like a kid on a jungle gym.

[ID: A shot of Spock and Layla among some trees at the end of a dirt path. Layla is standing on the ground and holding hands with Spock, who is hanging upside-down by his knees from a large tree branch, laughing.]

For a moment all Kirk can do is stare weakly at this weird spectacle. Then he collects himself with a stern AHEM and marches over like a principal about to deliver some very serious detention.

Meanwhile, back at the main hub of the colony, the landing party seems to have gotten well underway with preparations for departure, with several colonists and crewmen piling up luggage and equipment in the middle of a field while McCoy stands nearby overseeing everything, a job I’m sure he’s enjoying since we all know administrative work is McCoy’s favorite thing. Then DeSalle arrives, carrying a couple of the spore flowers and tells McCoy to take “a good, close look” at them, because they’re very interesting. McCoy steps forward to check them out right before the scene cuts away again, leaving us with little doubt as to what’s about to happen next.

During that little interim, Kirk and his crew have made it over to where Spock and Layla are cavorting. Spock just grins happily at Kirk, clearly not bothered one bit, even as Kirk asks if Spock’s out of his mind. He didn’t report to Kirk, he says, because...he didn’t want to.

Kirk glances back and forth between Spock and Layla, who’s standing there smiling rather smugly, and tells Layla that she’ll need to come get ready to evacuate with the rest of the colonists. Spock cheerfully says that there’s not going to be any evacuation. “But perhaps,” he adds, “we should go and get you straightened out.”

That really doesn’t bode well, but rather than ask just what Spock means by that, Kirk tells Sulu that Spock is under arrest in Sulu’s custody until they get back to the ship. Which will certainly work out well because it’s not like Spock is strong enough to chuck Sulu all the way across the field barehanded or anything. Not that Spock seems especially perturbed about being under arrest; instead he just shrugs, drops down from the tree, and says, “Very well. Come with me,” before heading off across the field, leaving else to follow in confusion. That’s how you arrest someone, right?

Of course, Spock leads them right to another group of spore flowers, which the group stops and stares at obligingly for a moment. Then the flowers explode a bunch of spores at them. Somehow, even though he’s standing right next to Sulu and Kelowitz, Kirk manages to totally avoid getting any spores up his sinuses, while the other two are immediately affected. “Yes...I see now,” Sulu says blissfully, with that trademark Very High grin that George Takei does so well. “Of course we can’t remove the colony. It’d be wrong.”

Kirk grabs him by the shoulders—Kirk’s go-to method for snapping people out of it--but when this somehow fails to bring Sulu back to his right mind, all Kirk can do is say that he doesn’t know what these plants are or how they work, but “you’re all going back to the settlement with me, and those colonists are going aboard the ship.” This stern proclamation has absolutely no effect on anyone. The whole group just stands there happily watching Kirk stomp back toward the colony. “I can see the captain is going to be difficult,” Spock remarks.

Kirk’s day isn’t about to get any better, because upon making it back to the colony he’s greeted by McCoy, who we can immediately tell is under the influence as well because his accent is absolutely out of control. It’s so thick even the subtitles pick up on it.

[ID: A screenshot of McCoy walking through a meadow with his communicator out, saying, "Sho’nuf."]

“Hiya, Jimmy boy!” McCoy very happily says to a very unhappy Kirk. “Hey, I’ve taken care of everything. Now all y’all gotta do is just relax. Doctor’s orders!” With a very resigned look, Kirk asks how many plants McCoy’s beamed up to the ship, and McCoy says it must be going on a hundred by now.

So Kirk beams up to the ship and heads right to the bridge, where he tells Uhura to put him through to Admiral Komak at Starfleet, though what he expects Komak to do about all this I don't know. But it’s too late. Uhura turns around to show that she’s smiling as happily as everyone else, and says, “Oh, I’m sorry Dave, I mean, captain. I can’t do that.” She’s short-circuited all the ship’s communications, except for ship-to-surface, since they’ll need that for a little while yet. Then she leaves, pausing in the door of the lift to tell Kirk that it’s really all for the best.

Kirk stands there seething for a moment, then stomps over to grab a plant that’s been left in Spock’s chair. He throws it across the bridge, and the camera lingers ominously on it as Kirk heads back into the lift.

Things aren’t any better on the rest of the ship. Kirk soon finds a long line of crewmembers of all different shirt colors, patiently waiting to transport down to join the colony. Out of what I can only assume is some desperate futile hope that someone will follow his orders if he just keeps trying, Kirk orders them all to go back to their stations at once. Unsurprisingly, they all ignore him. Kirk points out to one of the redshirts that this is MUTINY! but it doesn't get him very far.

[ID: A gif showing a young white man with brown hair wearing a redshirt as he says, "Yes, sir, it is." The camera then zooms in very dramatically on Kirk's stunned face.]

So...they’re all going down to join the colony? All four hundred thirty of them? Or four hundred twenty-nine, I guess, if Kirk refuses to join the fun. That’s almost ten times the amount of people the colony currently has in it. That seems like it could present a bit of a problem, because if you’ll recall DeSalle told Kirk earlier that right now the colony’s growing enough food to feed their current population, with little left over. How are they going to handle such a large and sudden influx into their population? Do they have housing for all these people? Or are they just all going to eat dirt and sleep on the ground because they’re all too high to notice anyway?

After we’ve had a commercial break to contemplate this shocking turn of events, Kirk takes some time out to give vent to his feelings in a captain’s log:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.5. The pod plants have spread spores throughout the ship, carried by the ventilation system. Under their influence, my crew is deserting to join the Omicron colony, and I can't stop them. I don't know why I have not been infected, nor can I get Doctor McCoy to explain the physical, psychological aspects of the infection."

And indeed, just in case we had any doubt, we then see McCoy strolling through the field and happily telling Kirk, “I’m not interested in any physical, psychological aspects, Jim-boy. We all perfectly healthy down here.” Kirk grumbles about how much he’s been hearing about things being perfect lately. “I bet you’ve even grown your tonsils back.” “Sho’nuf!”

Kirk tries desperately to get McCoy to do something to figure these spores out—run a blood test, take a scan, type the symptoms into WebMD, something, anything—but McCoy is more interested in rambling on about mint juleps.  Meanwhile, back in the farmhouse, Sandoval’s having tea with Spock while they talk about how nearly everyone’s beamed down from the ship and things are “proceeding quite well.” Kirk storms in and demands to know where McCoy’s gotten to, and Spock says he went off to make that mint julep. Which could prove quite difficult unless this tiny half-assed farm colony has somehow managed to set up a working distillery around here somewhere, but Kirk’s got bigger concerns right now than where McCoy’s going to get his bourbon.

Sandoval wants to know why Kirk won’t join them in their private, spore-sponsored paradise. Kirk asks where these spores came from, anyway, and Spock exposits that there’s no way to know—they just drifted through space until they arrived at this planet, which is perfect for them because it turns out they actually thrive on Bertold rays. The plants act as a repository for the spores until they can find a human—or half-Vulcan—body to inhabit. No explanation is forthcoming as to how Spock knows any of this.

Spock and Sandoval insist that the planet is “a true Eden” with belonging and love and no needs or wants for anyone, but Kirk is skeptical. “No wants, no needs. We weren’t meant for that. None of us. Man stagnates if he has no ambition, no desire to be more than he is.” Of all the things wrong with this situation I’m not sure “BEING TOO HAPPY IS BAD FOR YOU” is the take I would go with, but okay. Spock says that Kirk doesn’t understand, but he’ll come around...sooner or later.

Kirk, disgusted with this whole conversation, goes back to the ship. The bridge is dark, silent, and utterly empty. We get a slow pan of the blinking lights and displays of the consoles, with no one left to man them. Kirk walks over to his chair, hits the intercom, and starts calling one part of the ship after another, with no response from any of them. With nothing else left to do, he sits down in his chair and starts glumly recording a captain’s log so angsty it could be a LiveJournal entry:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.7. Except for myself, all crew personnel have transported to the surface of the planet. Mutinied. Lieutenant Uhura has effectively sabotaged the communications station. I can only contact the surface of the planet. The ship...can be maintained in orbit for several months, but even with automatic controls, I cannot pilot her alone. In effect, I am marooned here. I'm beginning to realize...just how big this ship really is, how quiet. I don't know how to get my crew back, how to counteract the effect of the spores. I don't know what I can offer against...paradise."

Hold on hold on HOLD ON what do you MEAN the ship can be maintained in orbit for several months? Every time someone takes their hands off the controls for five seconds we get told that the orbit is decaying and they’re gonna plummet into some hapless planet within a few hours at most but now all of a sudden it’s fine to hang out up there for several months? MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

Kirk gets up to go sit at the helm, just to get a change of scenery mid-mope, and as he finishes his log/rant the camera slowly pans down to reveal the spore flower that he chucked across the bridge earlier. Which is weird because we just got a wide shot of the bridge and that flower definitely wasn’t there then.

[ID: Two shots. The first is a wide shot showing Kirk alone on the empty, darkened bridge, preparing to sit down at the helm. There is nothing in on the floor in front of the helm. The second shot is a closer shot of Kirk sitting at the helm with his chin in one hand, now with a large spore flower poking up in the front of shot.]

The flower promptly shoots Kirk in the face, and for a moment he just continues to sit there with spores in his hair and a “yeah, this might as well happen” expression. But then he slowly starts to smile, suddenly as happy as everyone else. Exactly why Kirk’s been unaffected by the spores up until now, even after hanging out for quite a while on a ship that’s supposedly been thoroughly contaminated by them, is never really explained. Maybe he's just on a lot of Zyrtec. But it seems even Kirk’s determination to not be happy can’t hold out against a point-blank spray in the face. He calls Spock to say that he finally understands now, which Spock is happy to hear. Kirk says he’ll be down just as soon as he packs up a few things, so Spock says he and Layla will wait for him at the beamdown point.

So Kirk goes off to his quarters to pack up a suitcase, the contents of which seem to mostly consist of uniform shirts. Apparently paradise for Kirk does not include one of those green jumpsuits, which, really, who can blame him. He opens a small vault by his bed and pulls out a couple of black cases, one of which he opens to reveal a medal. This seems to stir some sense of conflict because he sits down and stares at it for a long moment, but then puts it aside and heads to the transporter room, where he puts the suitcase on the platform and then prepares to set the controls.

But then Kirk hesitates, and stands there for a moment looking conflicted. Possibly he’s still having feelings about those medals, or maybe he’s having second thoughts about whether he packed enough shirts. In any case, he eventually exclaims, “No...No! I...can’t...LEAVE!” Then he punches the console for good measure.

Apparently this little emotional outburst is all it takes to cure the spores, because Kirk gasps a little, looks momentarily confused, and then seems to be back to his old self. “Emotions...violent emotions. Needs...anger,” he tells the empty room. “Captain’s log, supplemental. I think I’ve discovered the answer...but to carry out my plan entails considerable risk. Mr. Spock is much stronger than the ordinary human being.” Then he treats us to this remarkable line:

[ID: A shot of Kirk in profile at the transporter controls as he says, "Aroused, his great physical strength could kill."]

um

Down on the planet, Spock and Layla are still waiting at the beamdown point when Kirk calls Spock up and says he’s realized there’s some equipment on the ship that they’ll need for the colony, and he needs Spock’s help to get it all beamed down. Really, you’d think there’d be quite a lot of equipment on the Enterprise that a farming colony could make good use of, but I guess they’re really determined to stick to the whole no-technology approach. Despite this, Spock cheerfully accepts the explanation, gives Layla a quick smooch, and beams up.

But upon materializing, Spock is greeted not with a smiling Kirk ready to go move some equipment with his bro, but Kirk standing there holding some nonspecific heavy metal rod thing that he’s smacking threatening against his hand. “All right, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized half-breed,” he says, “we’ll see about you deserting my ship.”

Spock reacts to this bar-brawl-starter with nothing more than a nonplussed expression and polite correcting Kirk on his syntax. Kirk, determination unshaken, continues laying into him with a stream of insults that would have made that fucker from Balance of Terror go, “Whoa, hold on there a minute.” Undeterred by not being able to use any actual expletives, he compares Spock both to a machine and to various fairy-tale creatures, makes fun of his ears, and rounds it all off by having a go at the entire Vulcan race. He even insults Spock’s parents.

[ID: 1. A shot of Spock standing in the transporter room looking perplexed as Kirk, off-camera, says, "Whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?" 2. A gif from Monty Python and the Holy Grail of John Cleese as the French knight on the battlements yelling, "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"]

Spock stands there taking it all stoically for quite a while, even as the background music gets increasingly tense. He finally starts to crack when Kirk goes after Spock’s relationship with Layla, and when Kirk keeps going despite Spock angrily telling him, “That’s enough,” Spock finally flips out big time. You know what that means, it’s time for a STAR TREK FIGHT SCENE! This one’s got it all: close-up shots of the actors intercut with long shots of very obvious stunt doubles; cardboard props getting punched; even people picking up random unidentifiable bits of starship equipment that may or may not have ever been there before to use as weapons. The only thing we’re missing is Kirk doing some kind of weird wrestling move.

[ID: Three gifs showing a fight scene between Kirk and Spock. First we see a long shot where Kirk and Spock are clearly being played by stunt doubles, as Spock punches a metal rod Kirk is holding, bending it in half. He then punches Kirk in the jaw, sending him careening into the wall. Then a close-up of Nimoy and Shatner as Spock advances on Kirk and throws a punch but misses, denting the control panel in the wall behind Kirk. Kirk dodges out of the way towards the console, and Spock throws another punch that hits the side of the console. Then back to a long view with the stunt doubles as Spock throws Kirk into the opposite wall, which Kirk careens off of, falling on his back on the floor, while Spock picks up something resembling a square metal stool or stepladder and raises it over his head. Finally, we see Nimoy and Shatner again as Kirk lays on the floor looking up at Spock, raising the thing he's carrying over his head.]

We dramatically cut to black as Spock stands poised above Kirk, raising whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is over his head threateningly. Apparently the ad break gives him enough time to cool down, though, because instead of bringing the thing down on Kirk’s skull, he hesitates.

“Had enough?” Kirk asks. “I didn’t realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours.”

Spock slowly lowers the thing, looking a bit regretful about having to do so. Kirk says he doesn’t know what Spock’s so mad about, anyway. “It isn’t every first officer who gets to belt his captain...several times.” Dude, you just stood there and unleashed a screed of personal and racial insults at your best friend here. A “sorry” probably wouldn’t go amiss here.

“You did that to me deliberately,” Spock realizes, and then realizes that the spores are gone. “I don’t belong anymore.” Kirk explains that since the spores are “benevolent and peaceful,” violent emotions overwhelm and destroy them—that’s the answer. Which...definitely makes sense, chemically speaking. Sure.

Spock, still looking pretty glum about all this, points out that Kirk’s method might have worked out alright for curing one person, but they’ve got over five hundred infected people down there, and trying to pick a fight with all of them probably isn’t going to go so well. But no worries, Kirk’s got another plan. He wants Spock to rig up a subsonic transmitter that they can hook up to the ship’s communications system and then broadcast to all the communicators. Spock says he can do that, but hesitates as Kirk turns to leave. “Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense,” he points out.

Kirk mulls over that one for a moment. “We-ll...if we’re both in the brig, who’s gonna build the subsonic transmitter?” he says, and Spock concedes the point. Besides, it’s a bit late to be worrying about striking fellow officers now.

[ID: A gif from The Naked Time of Kirk and Spock standing in an Enterprise conference room. Kirk slaps Spock across the face, and Spock retaliates by backhanding Kirk so hard he is thrown across the table in the center of the room and falls onto the floor on the other side.]

But what with the insults and the punching and de-sporing and everything, it seems that something has clean slipped Spock’s mind: Layla’s still down there waiting for him to come back. As she stands around the field, McCoy wanders over and asks what’s up. When she tells him that she’s been out here for some time now waiting for Spock and Kirk to come back, he gentlemanly offers to fix that for her and calls the ship. Spock picks up, and Layla asks if everything’s okay up there.

With obvious discomfort, Spock tells her that yes, he’s...quite well. Layla, oblivious to anything being wrong, asks if she can come up there, because she wants to talk to him, and besides, “I’ve never seen a starship before.” Wait a minute, never seen a starship before? You’re on a planetary colony! What, did you drive here?

Spock asks if she’s still at the beamdown point, and if McCoy’s there. Layla says yes to both, so Spock tells her to give the communicator back to McCoy, since she won’t need it to transport, and he’ll have her beamed up in a few minutes. One might think that at this point they might take this easy opportunity to also beam up McCoy and get him cured (it shouldn’t be hard, McCoy is already 85% comprised of negative emotions to begin with), so he can start investigating these spores, just in case Operation Go For the Eardrums doesn’t work. But they don’t. Kirk awkwardly asks Spock if he’s sure about talking to Layla while she’s still spore’d, but Spock just nods and heads to the transporter room.

He beams Layla up, and she happily runs over to give him a hug—they’ve been parted ever so long, after all—but when he just stands there stiffly, not reacting at all, she slowly pulls back and says, “You’re no longer with us, are you?”

Spock says it was necessary. Layla begs him to come back to the planet and belong again, but he says he can’t. She starts crying and saying she loves him. "I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. But we're happy here. I can't lose you now, Mr. Spock, I can't." Look, if the only time the relationship you want can possibly work out is when the other person is being mind-controlled by alien spores, I think it may be time to consider whether this is really a relationship you should be pursuing in the first place.

“I have a responsibility to this ship...to that man on the bridge,” Spock gently tells her. “I am what I am, Layla. And if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else’s.”

Layla soon realizes that all this anguish has resulted in her getting de-spore’d as well, and she’s not happy about it. “And this is for my own good?” she demands angrily. Well...yes, I mean, it is, but Spock doesn’t say that. Nor does he respond when she asks, “Do you mind if I say I still love you?” but she hugs him again anyway.

[ID: Layla tearfully embraces Spock and says, "You never told me if you had another name, Mr. Spock." Spock replies, "You couldn't pronounce it."]

ROMANCE

We’re obviously supposed to read this little story arc as the tragic tale of true love destined never to be, because Spock is only able to express his feelings for Layla under the influence of the spores. He has experienced paradise, but alas, he cannot linger there, and so on. It’s never set all that well with me, though. The problem is we never really get Spock’s side of the story and so it leaves open the question of how much he actually did want this relationship in the first place. Layla said earlier that “Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me” so evidently he never outright said “I love you but I can’t be with you” or anything of that sort to her. When they’re alone in the field before Spock gets spore’d he seems stiff, standoffish, awkward, and deflects all of her overtures with what appears to be discomfort, even annoyance. He clearly has no interest in talking about whatever history they had together, even when they’re all alone. For all that Layla goes on about how she can see a side of Spock that his crewmates don’t, we see interactions with those crewmates multiple times throughout the show that prove that Spock is perfectly capable of showing people that he cares about them, even if the ways he does it are usually a bit atypical. We don’t see any of that in his initial interactions with Layla.

If we accept the premise that the spores only make people act as they would if they had no inhibitions or fears holding them back, then yes, Spock saying he loves Layla after he’s been spore’d would indicate that he did secretly love her all along. The problem is that we know the spores make people do things that they would not ordinarily want to do. You think all of those four hundred thirty people on the Enterprise secretly longed for a quiet life among the soil but all chose to instead join the space navy for some reason? Should we believe Scotty is actually deep down perfectly okay with abandoning his beloved ship to a slowly decaying orbit? I doubt that Kirk has always harbored a subconscious desire to give up exploring the final frontier to pursue a peaceful agrarian lifestyle, but he very nearly does do just that. So the question of how much a relationship with Layla is what Spock “really” wanted seems to be a bit hazy.

Mind, I’m not saying this makes Layla an evil person who deliberately drugged Spock so she could have a relationship with him or anything like that. It’s clear throughout the episode that the spores induce those who are infected by them to spread them around to anyone nearby who’s not in the spore fandom yet, so there’s no reason to believe Layla would act as she did if she wasn’t under the influence herself. I just personally find it hard to buy into the tragic romance of a star-crossed relationship when the thing crossing the stars is that one of the participants is only enthusiastic about the whole thing when they’re not fully sober. It makes me question how much of their previous relationship really was Spock having feelings for Layla but being unable to express them, versus Layla projecting a lot of feelings onto him and writing off his disinterest or discomfort as denial.

Kirk and Spock go back to working on the signal, while Layla deals with her heartbreak by disappearing into thin air for the rest of the episode. Spock says that the sound they’re going to send out is on a frequency that won’t be heard so much as felt, but apparently it will be felt quite emphatically. Kirk compares it to putting itching powder on someone. Which may seem like another silly technobabble deus ex machina, but speaking from personal experience, driving someone into a frantic frustrated fit by playing an obnoxious noise just on the edge of hearing sounds totally legit. All they need to complete the sensory overload meltdown experience is find a way to simulate some flickering florescent lights and put tags on the backs of the uniform shirts.

And indeed, as the device starts to work, we see Sulu and DeSalle working in one of the fields—for a certain value of ‘working,’ anyway, they’re kind of just digging around aimlessly—when Sulu accidentally elbows DeSalle in the back. He apologizes, but DeSalle shoves him back, and before long they’re having a full-on brawl right there in the field, which can't be good for the crops. As the device on the ship hums away, two more crewmembers start their own fight over by the farmhouse, and when a third tries to break them up he promptly gets dragged into it as well.

The effects haven’t quite reached everyone just yet, though, as we see McCoy chillaxing under a tree with some unspecified concoction. Sandoval strolls up and says that he’s been thinking about what sort of work he could assign McCoy to. When McCoy protests that he does one kind of work and that’s doctorin’, Sandoval says that he’s not a doctor anymore—they don’t need any doctors here.

This does not go over well.

[ID: A gif showing McCoy reclining against a tree in a grassy meadow, a stalk of grass in one hand and a grass of something brown with several leafy stalks in it. Sandoval is standing over him. McCoy says, "Oh, no?" and then slowly stands up, tosses his grass stalk aside, looks Sandoval in the eye and says, "Would you like to see just how fast I can put you in a hospital?"]

Undeterred, Sandoval says that he’s the leader and he’ll be assigning McCoy whatever work he wants to, but when he tries to walk away McCoy pulls him back and snarls, “You’d better make me a mechanic. Then I can treat little tin gods like you.” Sandoval throws a punch at him, but McCoy dodges and whacks Sandoval in the stomach, putting him out flat on the ground. See, I told you it wouldn’t be hard to cure McCoy. Everyone else on the Enterprise was perfectly happy to give up their careers to go do a bit of light farming, but tell McCoy he can’t be a doctor anymore and no amount of spores are going to save you.

While Sandoval is busy rolling around on the ground, McCoy stands there looking confused for a moment, then—presumably having only just now noticed that instead of a mint julep he’s actually been drinking a coke with a bunch of cilantro in it—throws his drink aside and admits that he’s not sure why he just clobbered Sandoval. But Sandoval has other concerns for the moment. With a look of dawning horror familiar to all us chronic procrastinators, he abruptly realizes that they haven’t actually been doing anything all this time. “No accomplishments, no progress. Three years wasted. We wanted to make this planet a garden...”

McCoy points out that the colonists really will have to leave—they can’t survive here without the spores handling all that radiation for them. But the dream’s not over; the colonists could be relocated to start again somewhere a bit less deadly, if that’s what they want.

“I think I’d...I think we’d like to get some work done,” Sandoval muses. “The work we set out to do.”

McCoy calls Spock and says that Sandoval wants to talk to Kirk. Spock notes to Kirk that the crew are all starting to rather sheepishly call in by now. Sandoval tells Kirk that the colonists will fully cooperate with the evacuation now, and Kirk tells him to start making the preparations. Real ones, this time.

Sometime later, everyone’s back on the bridge getting ready to head out. McCoy reports that he’s examined all the colonists and they all remain in perfect health. “A fringe benefit left over by the spores.”

One would think that this would have been quite the eventful afternoon for the medical sciences, given that they just discovered spores with such incredible healing powers that they can make people regrow organs, and McCoy just confirmed that anything healed by the spores stays healed after the spores are gone. Sure, they’ve got some side effects, but Kirk’s already discovered a simple way to get rid of the things once they’re no longer needed. Strap someone to a bed, give em a facemask full of spores, let them lay there for a while having a nice buzz while they heal their cancer or whatever, then play an irritating noise at them until they sneeze the spores back out again. Boom. Done. You’ve solved medicine. Or, y’know, we could vacate the planet and never speak of it ever again, that works too.

Notably unmentioned by anybody during this little denouement is the fate of the other two settlements on the planet that Sandoval mentioned back near the beginning of the episode. The length of the timeskip isn’t specified, so it’s possible that the crew went and collected them as well in the interim, but we never get any details as to how that little adventure went, assuming that it did happen and that the Enterprise isn’t about to get halfway to the next starbase before Kirk realizes he forgot something.

As they watch the planet diminish behind them on the viewscreen, McCoy muses that this was “the second time man’s been thrown out of paradise.” Kirk disagrees. "No, no, Bones, this time we walked out on our own. Maybe we weren't meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to fight our way through--struggle, claw our way up, scratch for every inch of the way. Maybe we can't stroll to the music of the lute. We must march to the sound of drums."

Spock remains unimpressed by this bit of philosophizing. “Poetry, Captain. Nonregulation.” Kirk notes that they haven’t heard anything from Spock about this whole ordeal, since, y’know, that definitely seems like something Spock would want to talk about. He says he’s got little to say about Omicron Ceti 3.

[ID: A close-up of Spock on the bridge as he says, "Except that for the first time in my life...I was happy."]

oh my god someone needs therapy

On that INCREDIBLY CHEERFUL note, the Enterprise flies away and the episode ends.

It’s somewhat baffling to me that of all the quite reasonable objections available to the whole situation with the spores, the main problem that Kirk—and by extension, the episode—seems to have is that “the spores make things too EASY and mankind was meant to STRUGGLE!!!” I mean, effectively what we had going on here was people being drugged without their consent into a state that overwrote their own desires, ambitions, emotions and much of their individual personalities and replaced them with bland, happy conformity to a goal and lifestyle none of them actually chose. That seems a bit worse to me than “people weren’t working hard enough.” Kirk goes on and on about how the spores made things too easy, but what they really did was make people apathetic to whether they succeeded at anything or not. Sandoval’s horrified when he’s cured of the spores because the colonists had much different plans for their colony; far from making those plans easier, the spores made them impossible. The dreams and desires of the Enterprise crew for a life of exploration among the stars would have been forever unmet if they had permanently joined the colony, they just wouldn’t have been able to care. Kirk seems to believe that the ultimate evil of the spores is that they deprive people of ambition; to me it seems that the worse evil is that they deprive people of their individuality and their autonomy.

Then there’s the fact that while the spores make people happy and friendly, they also make them remarkably blasé about the well-being of anyone who isn’t part of their collective. They have to be—caring about whether someone else is upset or hurt would make them unhappy, after all. Spock and McCoy are completely unconcerned with the mounting distress of their best friend, and beyond peer pressuring him to get with the program and take the spores like everyone else, they don’t seem to much care if he remains the only unhappy person on the planet. The colonists seem completely unbothered by the fact that all the animals they brought with them died a rather grueling death by radiation poisoning. Everyone on the Enterprise is happy to abandon the ship and join the colony with no message left behind for Starfleet, with apparently not a thought to spare for any friends and family back home, who would only ever know that their loved ones disappeared into space never to be seen again.

Or at least, they would if things actually went according to plan, which they probably wouldn’t, because the spores also made everyone cheerfully oblivious to the idea that anything could potentially cause a problem or pose a threat to them. After all, if Kirk hadn’t had a recovery at the last minute, the Enterprise would have been left unmanned in orbit around the planet, with no way for anyone in the colony to get back onboard. Uhura also goes out of her way to make sure that they no longer have any off-planet communication. So it’s probably not going to be long before Starfleet notices that one of their prize starships has abruptly gone incommunicado, and I’m willing to bet they’d be a bit quicker on that investigation than they were about checking on a tiny backwater colony (although it is Starfleet, so who knows, really). And since they know exactly where the ship was headed on its last recorded mission, it probably won’t take them long to find it. If Starfleet sends another ship along to investigate quickly enough, they’ll find the abandoned Enterprise hanging out in orbit around the planet, and Kirk’s log clearly lays out what happened, so all the other ship has to do is figure out how to neutralize the spores and everyone’s going to get rescued from Omicron Ceti 3 pretty quickly whether they want to be or not.

If Starfleet doesn’t show up in time...Kirk says the ship can be “maintained in orbit” for several months, but then what? It can’t stay up there forever. Sooner or later, the orbit will decay and the ship’s going to crash into the planet, and if it crashes anywhere near one of the colonies, their magic healing powers are going to be put to the test. Also their magic agriculture powers--rich soil and mild weather is all well and good, but is that going to be enough to carry all those crops through the ensuing environmental effects of an impact that big? Especially since, as already mentioned, the colony has enough to feed them and that’s about it—so they really can’t afford to lose any crops for very long.

Sure, maybe the Enterprise wouldn’t crash close enough to any of the colonies to ruin them, but why take the risk? All they had to do was have a helmsman set it on a course out of orbit, then take a shuttlecraft back to the planet. Doesn’t occur to anyone, evidently. Nor do we see anyone bothering to bring any supplies or equipment from the ship to the colony, even though there’s gotta be lots of stuff up there that would be useful. All in all, it seems quite likely that Paradise would have eventually collapsed in on itself simply because the spores make people unable to pay attention to any potential threats or obstacles long enough to do anything about them.

So what’s the moral here? ‘Society can’t survive if everyone is stoned all of the time’? I mean, okay? Sure? Cool? Glad we sorted all that out.

That said, despite having ranted for the past nine hundred words about the weird moral, I’m not saying this episode is bad. As a serious point about human nature I don’t find it especially compelling—YMMV, but I just personally tend to side-eye stories that center around the idea of “wouldn’t it be awful if we all had it too easy??”--but as fifty minutes of extremely Star Trek-y silliness it’s glorious. We’ve got Spock hanging from a tree and talking about dragons while making out in the grass, McCoy going full Georgia and wandering about with something he thinks is a mint julep, Kirk stomping around in increasing agitation as he tries to get some sense out of somebody and then making emo log entries while he sits on the bridge alone...it’s great.

The original draft of this episode apparently had the romantic subplot be for Sulu, who would have been motivated to stay with Layla after having been diagnosed with a serious medical condition that was cured by the spores, kind of like the eventual plot with McCoy in For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky. D.C. Fontana rewrote the story to focus on Spock, since if you have an episode about something that causes a strong emotional reaction, throwing Spock and his ever-present internal conflict into the mix is kind of the most immediately obvious way to generate some pathos and drama. The spores originally granted those affected with them telepathic abilities, enabling them to link with everyone else who’d been spore’d and form a hivemind. There are some traces of this in the final episode with spore’d people talking about “joining us” and “being one of us” and so on, but without the telepathy part it just kind of makes it sound like they’re in a cult. Also, the cure for the spores would have been consuming alcohol, so presumably in that draft McCoy never got infected.

For the purposes of the Trek Tally I’m going to count the spores as a Space Disease, which might be broadening the umbrella of that term a bit but hey, close enough. Next time we’ll be looking for life, Jim, but not as we know it, in The Devil in the Dark.

[lailyn]

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 3)

“Tony, help me get all the equipment away,” Stephen urged as he darted forward, hands glowing with magic. He had always known that this day would come, when he would finally catch a glimpse of Loki’s true nature. He only wished he had been more prepared for it. 

But this was still Loki, and right now, Loki needed his help. 

Stephen thawed the frost surrounding Loki’s bed with his magic and raised the Mirror Dimension around them to contain Loki’s once-dormant ice magic from overspilling into the real world.

 

Amid the swirls of vapor where ice met fire, Loki stirred.

“Loki,” Stephen heard Tony exclaim and felt his heart begin to pound. 

He was forgetting something, something very, very important. What had Thor told him once?  

Then he remembered. “Don’t touch him, Tony!” 

Loki let out a low moan, and either Tony did not hear him or chose not to, he watched in horror as his husband reached for Loki all the same. 

A magic lasso lashed across the room and seized Tony’s wrist just in the nick of time. 

“What the hell did I just say?” Stephen barked. “Do you want to lose your fingers?”

Tony stared at the shackle around his wrist for a second before shaking it loose. 

“I’ll apologise later,” Stephen said grimly, nodding at the figure on the bed. “I think he’s coming around.”

“Loki, wake up,” Tony commanded. 

“Tony?” Loki mumbled. His eyes opened to reveal pupils as red as rubies. 

Tony uttered a gasp but quickly reined in his astonishment but it was too late; the hand Loki was already extending toward him froze in mid-air.

“Loki…” Tony wanted nothing more than to take the outstretched hand, as blue as it was with its gleaming onyx nails, tapered and razor-sharp. “Loki, don’t freak out.” 

Loki raised his hand to the level of his eye. He studied his skin intently.

"I don't understand," he finally said, voice wavering. "Why is this happening?"

Stephen braved a step closer. “Can you shift back?” 

Loki frowned at the absurdity of such a request. At the speed of thought, blue bled away starting from the head all the way down to the feet, leaving in its wake the milky complexion and bright green eyes their lover was renowned for.

A palpable relief fell over the room but it was short-lived, for almost instantly, Loki’s hand flew to his stomach. 

“Is the pain back?” Stephen asked.

Loki nodded with a great wince. “What is happening to me?” He tried to sit but it proved too difficult. “Ah.”

“Well, change back,” Stephen urged. 

Loki shook his head slowly. “No.”

“Loki, shift,” Stephen ordered. 

Loki ignored him and turned to his other lover standing silent and stricken by his side, face stricken with anguish and fear.

Was Tony afraid of him? 

Ignoring the invisible blade knifing his stomach with every breath, Loki pulled himself up into a sitting position. 

All Loki could think of was the hand Tony would not take...with good reason too. Loki could not bear the thought of hurting Tony, or Stephen, or anyone. 

Tony, Loki implored with his eyes. He could live with this pain, he had felt worse. This was nothing. Maybe if he stayed just like this…

“Tony,” he whimpered and it was the pain in his voice that broke Tony free from his trance. His husband rushed forward and gathered Loki to his chest, hugging him tightly. 

“It’s okay,” Tony whispered in his ear. “We’ll figure this out together, I promise you we will.”

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Loki cried.

Tony could not agree more, and to emphasise, he pressed a fierce kiss to Loki’s temple. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. But you’re hurting, and I need to get you better.”

Loki allowed the change to come over him again and the relief was instantaneous, his limbs relaxing with the cessation of pain.  

Stephen and Tony took a few involuntary steps back as the Jotun prince vaulted off the bed, seemingly possessed of as much grace as his Aesir form ever displayed. 

In this form, Loki’s hair was longer and straighter and as he cast a curious eye at what the rude awakening of his ice magic had done to the room, he almost seemed like a different person. 

“Is the damage extensive?” He queried. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said, guarded. “Everything’s insured.”

Loki hummed dispassionately. He directed his next question to Stephen. 

“Are you ever letting me out of here?” Carefully avoiding eye contact, Loki needled him further. “Or are you keeping me here till the baby comes?”

Stephen could not take the Mirror Dimension down quickly enough judging by the displeasure on Loki’s face, and as he fumbled with his sling ring, Stephen could not help but ask. “Are you okay?”

When Loki blinked, the film over his red eyes deepened in colour. “I wish to sup.”

Tony blinked in confusion. “Sup?”

“Something light will do. I will take my meal in my room.”

Stunned, they could only watch as Loki stepped out of the Mirror Dimension and stalked out of the medical bay without so much as a glance.  

“That’s a bit anticlimactic.”

Stephen closed his eyes and shuddered. “Tony, can you please try not to jinx us?”

“Sorry. Count your blessings. Got it. Coz it could be so much worse, you’re right. Of course you’re right.” Tony exhaled loudly through his nose. “So what are we doing about lunch?”

**********************

 

 In a vain attempt to return to normalcy, Stephen and Tony found themselves in the kitchen shortly after, with Stephen taking the helm to prepare a light meal, seeing how he seemed to be the only one remotely functional. 

Tony sat at the counter, unable to bring himself to help, for there were simply too many questions hanging over his head. 

Was Loki really pregnant, or was he simply ill? Was it an affliction, bearable only in Jotun form? And if so, was it a fleeting or a chronic condition?

Why couldn’t Tony touch him? 

Staring down at his hands, Tony could not help but wonder what would have happened had he given in and touched Loki like he wanted.

He could not keep from touching Loki forever, could he? That was simply not possible. 

“Is he really pregnant?” Tony finally asked when he could no longer bear the silence. 

The sudden stiffening of Stephen’s shoulders was the only indication that he had heard him. 

“Why didn’t you look inside him?” Tony pressed. “I know you wanted to.”

Stephen finally turned around from the stove. “Without his explicit permission? And after what he said?”

“You know he didn’t mean that,” Tony said weakly. 

The spatula dropped from Stephen’s hand. “Oh my god. You think I did this to him too.”

“I don’t know!” Tony lashed. “I don’t know what to think, Stephen, hence why I am asking!”

“How long have we been together?” Stephen demanded.

“Come on, let’s not do that.”

“No, no, I’d love to hear why my partner of ten years would think I’d stoop so low that I would force something like this on someone?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are putting words in my mouth.”

“Only the ones you don’t have the balls to come out and say.”

“Oh, you want to talk about balls?” he growled. “How about this. How about you stop pretending like everything is fine and freak out for real?” 

“What does that even mean?” Stephen asked, sheer frustration bleeding from every pore in his body.

“We’ve talked about wanting children one day. Maybe it was unintentional, you know that happens all the time,” Tony pointed out. “And why are you so certain it was you anyway?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a healthy, virile man. Me and Pepper had a few scares of our own when we were still together,” Tony said, spreading his arms out. “So why couldn’t it be me?”

“Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?” Stephen’s voice rose. “What the fuck, Tony?”

Tony banged a fist on the kitchen counter. “I don’t know, okay?” 

Stephen reared his head, clearly taken aback. “Tony…”

“I don’t know what’s happening, and honestly, I don’t really care.” His eyes began to water. “I just want Loki to be okay.”

Stephen sighed, feeling some of the tension drain away at the sight of the tears on Tony’s lashes. 

He walked over to where Tony sat and gathered his husband’s fingers into a fist. “Hey, hey. Nothing’s going to happen. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

Stephen searched his husband’s face. As unpredictable as Loki’s moods were, Tony could be the more difficult to read sometimes. So much for being fellow humans. “Tony, what are you trying to say?”

“It’s not important,” Tony said finally, pulling his hand out of Stephen’s grasp gently. “I think you and Loki need to talk.” 

Stephen shook his head, adamant. “No. I know you. You’re upset about something.”

“Me? Upset?” Tony pasted a big grin on his face. “I’m ecstatic. We’re finally going to be parents, just like we always wanted.”

“Tony…” Stephen said warningly. 

“Just go see to Loki, okay?” Tony pushed himself off the bar stool. He needed to get out of the kitchen, he needed to be alone. “I got shit to do.”

**********************

 

“Where is Tony?” Loki asked when he saw Stephen standing alone at the door.

“He thinks we need to talk, just the two of us. So do I.”

The staring contest dragged on for a full minute, before Loki became the first to drop his gaze. 

“If we must,” Loki sighed, and let him in. 

Stephen figured asking the easy questions first would pave the way for harder ones, as well as help him gauge just how willing Loki was to talk. “How are you feeling?”

“I am feeling fine.”

Stephen nodded at the bed that had clearly been slept in. “Did you have a good rest?”

“Somewhat,” Loki said softly. “I am hungry.”

“Come on. Let’s have lunch.”

Loki took a seat at the very end of the long table and watched Stephen ladle out something from the tureen he had brought into a bowl. 

Stephen brought it over and held out a spoon. "Dig in. It's your favourite zucchini and potato soup. You scored some nice ones at the market today."

Loki was about to sip his first spoonful when he realised that Stephen was not eating. “You will not join me?”

“I’m happy just watching you.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re very strange?”

“More times than I can count,” Stephen said. “Mostly by you.”

“It is a compliment.” Loki shrugged. “Most of the time.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes sitting in complete silence as Loki ate.

For someone so used to being watched, Loki seemed unusually self-conscious, fidgeting with his oversized dressing gown every few minutes to keep it from slipping down his shoulders.

Stephen refilled Loki’s glass to the brim with ice water, trying not to stare at the swirls of lines on his husband’s once-pristine skin. “Would you like some more? I made extra.”

Loki shook his head, looking uncomfortably full despite having had only a small serving of broth. 

“Go have a rest.” Stephen started clearing the table. Cleaning staff would have done it but he needed it, if only to give him a moment to think. 

Loki on the other hand was only too happy to be out of his way and do as he was told.  

Once he was cleaning up, Stephen walked over to the couch but before he could sit, Loki stopped him. "No. You are too close."

A hollow pit formed in Stephen's stomach. "You don't trust me."

Loki looked away. "Not you."

Stephen swallowed down most of the hurt and let the rest wash over like water. He was about to turn to leave and do this another day when an almost inaudible whisper reached his ear.

"Me."

Blood rushed to his head. Like a stone, Stephen dropped onto the couch and lunged, gathering his husband in his arms. 

All life returned to the silent form and Loki gasped. "Stephen!” He flailed in a flurry of blue limbs as he pushed Stephen off of him in a panic. 

“What the hell are you doing?" Loki berated. When Stephen did not speak, true panic coloured his voice. "Did I burn you? Show me!”

"It's fine, I'm fine!" Stephen showed Loki his hand, intact and unblemished. "See?"

Loki’s red eyes scanned Stephen from head to toe in bewilderment. "You're unhurt?"

Stephen shook his head. "Not a bit."

"How?" Loki’s mouth fell open. "Is it because of your magic? It's protecting you?"

"Your ice didn't hurt me earlier so I took a gamble."

A beautiful fury flushed Loki's face into a ruddy sangria. "You took a gamble."

"I had to. I didn't know how else I could get you to talk."

"Does this mean Tony could - ?" Hold me too? The unspoken question was unmistakably loud. 

"I don't know. Not yet," Stephen said quietly.

“Oh.” Loki’s shoulders slumped with a devastation Stephen knew too well. 

“Are you ready to talk?” he asked quietly.

Loki did not answer but instead of pulling away, he inched closer. With overwhelming relief,  Stephen took the chance to wrap an arm around his back. He could feel the coldness of Loki’s skin through the thin silk of the gown and unconsciously began to rub a hand up and down Loki’s arm. 

“I know you’re scared,” Stephen murmured. “I’m scared too. More than you know.”

Loki shook his head slowly. 

"I wasn't avoiding you. I was...trying to process." A blue hand rested over a stomach as flat as a board. "Still processing, in fact. I had my suspicions of course.”

Stephen frowned; this was news to him. “When did you first start noticing?”

“The unbearable heat? A few days ago.”

Stephen gaped, but Loki remained blithely insouciant. “This morning at the market, it just got a bit much.”

“We should go see someone. You know, just to confirm.”

“No.” Loki shook his head. “There is no need.”

“Loki,” Stephen tried again, but an icy glare stole his words and breath both.

“There is no need,” Loki repeated flatly. 

“Okay, Loki,” he relented, despite his heavy reluctance. He had gotten Loki talking now and that was an achievement in itself. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“I understand,” Loki said. “I thank you for your concern.” 

Still, his voice wavered as his resolve faltered. “I don't want anyone to see me like this. I am not ready."

"Will you believe me if I tell you that it doesn't matter how you look?"

"To you, maybe. To the rest of the world? Never." Loki closed his eyes and saw Odin, lying on the staircase to the vault that fateful day on Asgard. “There is no universe where a world exists that does not demand perfection.”

“Noone knows that more than me,” Stephen said, a haunted gauntness descending on his suddenly haggard features. “I can only see the world as it should be. Any imperfection, any deviation from reality...it stands out.” 

"And that is how you see me," Loki said bitterly. 

"No, you misunderstand. I seek imperfection, but at the same time, I fail to see imperfections in myself.” Stephen decided it was time for another gamble. He reached for Loki's hand. “Maybe you were right. Maybe this was my fault.”

Loki visibly hesitated. “About that....I think I misspoke earlier." 

“What do you mean?”

"Remember that night we spent together?"

"Just you and me or - ?"

Loki shook his head. "The three of us, on our anniversary. When I showed you both my other form?"

"Go on," Stephen said warily. 

"That night when we slept, I...may have neglected to reinforce my wards."

Stephen must have heard him wrongly. "What?"

"Contraceptive charms aren't a one-size-fits-all,” Loki mumbled. “Apparently I have to cast a new spell everytime I shift."

"And you didn't know this?"

Loki was furiously blushing now. "It slipped my mind, alright? It's been a while!"

"Oh God." Stephen could not stop himself in time from echoing Tony's words from earlier. "This is a nightmare."

Loki recoiled, as if slapped. "You don't mean that."

But Stephen was barely listening, his headspace catapulted to a time when a few too many drinks were had and the taste for the exotic followed them out the restaurant door all the way to their bedroom. 

Loki's female form was every bit as alluring and irresistible as his preferred male; to say that Stephen was besotted would be an understatement and he dared say that Tony too had felt the same.

The sudden drop of temperature in the room brought him out of the reverie and into the present, bringing with it a horror the likes of which he had never felt before.

Stephen swallowed hard. "Loki…"

"I thought you wanted this."

"I did. Babe, I still do," Stephen implored. "I just don’t think I’m ready."

"To be a father?"

A vehement shake of the head. "No, that I'm sure I can manage somehow. I can't imagine it'll be easy but with help...lots of help, and mistakes I’m sure, but it’s not impossible.”

“Then what is this fear I am seeing in your eyes?”

Stephen heard the fear mirrored in Loki’s voice and knew there was no going around it anymore. It was high time he brought his deepest, darkest fear out into the open.

“I fear not being able to help you," he confessed. “My knowledge and my skills only go so far.”

“Because I am not...human, you mean?”

Stephen’s silence provided Loki with all the answers he needed.

“Stephen, everything will be fine,” Loki said. “I will be fine.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

"You have to make peace with not knowing everything, Strange." 

“Makes my job harder when I don’t.”

Loki leaned into Stephen’s shoulder and sighed, "So young and already so burdened.”

Stephen rested his cheek gratefully against the top of Loki’s head. "Sometimes I forget you are so much older than me." 

His heartbeat picked up pace at the thought of asking what he had to ask next. "Is that why it's so difficult for you to trust me?"

"Don't take it personally, Doctor. I don't even trust myself." The contrast between his blue skin and Stephen’s tan was jarring and it took everything Loki had not to pull his hand away. "I am the embodiment of chaos and yet here I am, with you."

"Then you wouldn't have liked the old me. I was a committed hedonist. Work hard, play harder."

"Urgh. A hedonist and a perfectionist." Loki made a pained face, the disdain all too familiar but for the faint heritage lines fringing the hollows of his cheeks. "We wouldn't have lasted a day."

“Ouch.” But Stephen had to agree. “Yeah, we would have been too similar.”

Loki remained quiet for a while. “I have said terrible things to you.”

“You do that all the time,” Stephen soothed. “It’s music to my ears.”

At the sheer gentleness of Stephen’s voice, Loki’s eyes filled. “I have hurt you.”

“I’ve had worse. Remember our first trip together, the three of us?”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

“I still have the scar from that.” 

Loki studied the sinewy lines of Stephen's hand. Even with the old scars, it was beautiful to his eyes. "Poor Stephen. Why does the world always hurt you?" 

"Better me than anyone else," Stephen said, patting the back of Loki’s hand placatingly. “I’ve got tons, what is one more? They all tell a story.” 

Just like the lines on your face , Stephen thought. He longed to trace each of them with his fingers first, then his lips. 

Catching his husband staring, Loki suppressed the urge to turn away. “How can you stand to look at me?”

“You are the most exquisite thing I have ever seen.”

“Liar,” Loki whispered. 

Stephen shrugged. “You didn’t believe me the first time I said I love you either.”

“You do not find me...unsightly?” Typical Loki, he simply had to ask what deep-down inside he already knew, “You love me still?”

Stephen kissed Loki’s lips gently. “I never stopped.”

“Stephen…”

But Stephen was far from done. “I can’t do words very well...but I’d take a bullet for you, Loki.” He grasped the cold fingers and clasped them against his chest, just as he had done on their wedding day. “And if there's a child, for them too."

Loki's eyes blurred. 

“I can’t do words either,” he sighed, leaning forward until they were forehead-to-forehead proper. “Nor do I understand Midgardians’ courting gifts, but my Brother said you should accept them if the feeling is mutual.” 

“So...thank you.” Loki finally smiled his first genuine smile in days, bittersweet albeit a little watery. “I’ll make sure to stand behind you at all times.”

Stephen chuckled. "Yeah, you do that."