#as a newcomer i can definitely say its a blast

[cherryozyi]

Finally finished Splatoon's 3 Story Mode/Hero Mode. It was pretty interesting & fun! Definitely makes me want to check out the other two games (or in this case the second one since it's available on switch)

[gosecretscribbles]

Rise August 2024

Day 1: "Mad Dogs"

Raph was practically vibrating. Or maybe that was the Shellhog as it shot down the forest trail. Mikey sat in front of him. Mikey and Donnie had been visiting Todd once or twice a week since building the puppy theme park. Raph had been internally dying of the need to pet all the cute puppies.

“Absolutely not,” Mikey said firmly. “Puppy land is my mission! Mine and Donnie’s! Somewhere I don’t have to be a little brother following all the rules.”

“I don’t have that many rules!”

“You don’t?” Mikey said, pointing to the chore chart. “Really?” he added, pointing to the post-it notes on kitchen safety covering the cabinets. “Hmmmmm?” he added, holding up a life-sized cardboard cutout of Smokey Bear repainted to look like Raph. The sign it held read, ‘Raphie says: Don’t Start Ninpo Fires.’

“Well that one’s mostly for Donnie,” Raph muttered.

But he conceded the point. He knew he could be overprotective. But Mikey hadn’t even technically completed his first solo mission! After the Krangpocalypse, Raph knew that his littlest brother was just as talented a warrior as the rest of them, and definitely more mystically powerful. He also knew that Mikey deserved space to grow as a person. But. He was still Raph’s littlest brother.

He let it go, mostly, and didn’t mention the puppy place again. But sometimes, when Raph pushed the rules a little too hard, Mikey got vindictive and showed them pictures. There were corgis with little pink toe beans. And Wheaton terriers with coats like corn silk. And German Shepherds piled on each other in a big, sleepy heap. Raph had to hold his excitement inside until he felt like he’d explode.

Then Mikey came home yesterday and casually mentioned that two new adoptees needed leash-training, and maybe Raph wanted to help?

Raph would’ve sprinted to the woods right that second if Donnie hadn’t shot him with a dart.

The trees parted to show the amusement park. The rides looked amazing, the doggie fountain was at full blast, and two dozen dogs were frolicking through the grass, chasing and tousling with each other. Todd was waiting for them at the entrance.

“PUPPIES!” Raph leaped off the bike and ran for the gate.

“Whoa there, big fella!”

Raph screeched to a stop and just barely avoided hitting Todd in the face with his kneecaps.

“Sorry, Todd!” Mikey yanked Raph back by his shell. “Raph, you can’t just charge in like that, you’re gonna scare the dogs. You have to let them approach you and be gentle!”

“Raph can be gentle! Raph’s gonna be the boss of gentle!”

Todd chuckled. “Good, because I’ve got a couple newcomers who need some socializing. None of the other dogs want to play with them because they’re so big and scary-looking. But they’re the sweetest little guys! And they could really, really use some leash training.”

Big and scary? Sweet? They sounded just like Raph!

“Onward, dearest brother!” Mikey proclaimed, marching into the park. Raph followed so close he practically stepped on Mikey’s back toes. Todd was close behind. They went around Todd’s house to a guest house behind it. Wait, it wasn’t a guest house. It was a really big doghouse. There was a rumbling from inside. Two pairs of glowing eyes opened. Raph saw the glint of long white canines, a flash of fur and muscle, and then –

Out bounded two enormous dogs. They were nearly as tall as Mikey before they stood on their back legs. They had the muscular bodies and slobbery jowls of purebred Cane Corsos, but the black coats and pale brown eyebrows of rottweilers. Mikey neatly sidestepped his overjoyed attacker but Raph’s dog hit him at full tilt in the chest, a cute little thump that left Raph roaring with laughter and the dog barking his head off with excitement. Raph grabbed the dog’s ears and shook them.

“You wanna play, girl? Huh? You wanna play? Alleyyyyy-OOP!” He picked it up under the armpits and tossed it in the air. The dog kept barking the whole time, tongue hanging wide open, its entire body wriggling with joy. Raph caught it and tried to set it down, but it barked again and lunged for his chest. “Aw, you like uppies? Yeah! Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl who deserves uppies?!”

“Haha, wow,” Todd said faintly, watching the chaos. “I guess Mikey’s not the only heavy lifter in the family.”

“Nope!” Mikey said cheerfully. He’d slung his dog over his shoulder, where it was purring loudly and enjoying Mikey’s ear skritches. “Toldja he’d be perfect for leash training. Raph, this little sweetheart’s name is Klunk. You’ve got Cream, short for Ice Cream.”

“Awww! Who’s a good lil Cream? It’s you, yes it is!”

Cream barked with glee and covered his face in slobber.

Todd chuckled. “They’re really friendly, but they need to learn how to walk on a leash. Right now they pull a lot, and whoever adopts them should be able to walk them without getting dragged around.”

Raph frowned. “But they’re not going anywhere?” He gestured. His dog was now stretched across his shoulders like an overgrown cat.

“Not yet, but all it takes is them seeing one squirrel and then – whoosh! Off they go!” Todd produced two stainless steal chains, each with a hook at the end. “Don’t worry, they hook to their collars like normal leashes. It’s just so they won’t snap the first time these little guys pull. When they pull, stop walking. That way they learn that the only way to move forward is to stay next to you. You can also give them treats whenever they look at you, to distract them from other things like squirrels.”

“Sounds easy to Raph!”

It was, sort of. Klunk and Cream were really excited about the leashes because it meant they were going into the forest. It was funny at first, but hooking up their collars started to feel like wrangling Donnie into bed after he’d drunk twelve coffees. Then Todd loaded them up with bits of beef jerky and they headed for the gate. When they got outside, the two dogs immediately started pulling. Mikey and Raph, obeying instructions, stopped dead.

The leashes pulled taut so fast that both dogs spun all the way around, staring at the two turtles in shock. Raph immediately felt bad and let go of the leash. Cream bolted into the underbrush.

“HEY NO WAIT –”

“I got it,” Mikey said casually. He gestured, and a golden chain appeared, dragging the whining Cream back to Raph’s side. “You can’t let go, Raph, that just lets them run wherever they want.”

“But – the puppy eyes! They’re as bad as yours, Mikey!”

Mikey patted Raph’s arm. “Just think of them running into traffic. Would you let me go?”

“No.”

“Right - unless you were holding my hand. That's exactly what the leash is for, so don't let go.” Mikey put Cream’s chain in Raph’s hand. “Ready? Good. Follow the leader!”

He strode off into the forest.

It was a lot harder than it looked, because the puppy dog eyes really were Raph’s fatal weakness. But imagining them running into traffic activated his Big Brother instincts. He copied his littlest brother, stopping when the dogs pulled, giving them treats when the dogs looked at him (that part was easy and fun). By the time the four of them made a circle around the amusement park, the dogs were walking in loose circles around each of them. That offered a whole new challenge. Mikey could pirouette gracefully to keep from getting tangled, but Raph had to sort of waddle in a circle fast enough that he wouldn’t pull Cream on accident. He fell on his face more than once and Mikey took many, many blackmail pictures.

Todd was waiting for them at the gate once again. His cheerful face lit up even more when he saw the dogs sniffing vigorously around their turtles.

“You made it! Aw, look at them, all happy and sniffy!”

“We made a lot of progress already,” Mikey said proudly.

“Raph gave them lots of treats!” Raph said, and nearly tripped when Cream flopped in front of him to ask for belly rubs. “Awwwww, she still likes me!”

“Of course!” Todd said happily. “I bet you gave her lots of treats. If you’re up for it, I’d love to have the two of you keep working with them. Could you come back tomorrow?”

“YES!” Raph shouted. Cream barked her booming bark in hearty agreement. “Oh, wait, Mikey shouldn’t keep straining his arms. Maybe we should –”

“Omigosh Cream is so cuuuute,” Mikey cooed. Raph looked down and squealed. She’d curled her whole body around Raph’s legs, with her head resting heavily on his foot. She was starting to snore.

“She’s sleeping! Quick, take a picture, take a picture!”

“Got it!” Todd chirped, snapping several. “Oh, that’ll look so cute on their adoption page! What do you think the caption should be?”

“ ‘Mad Dogs!’” Raph said proudly.

Todd cocked his head. “Ummmm, you sure?”

“Yeah! It’s our team name and we’ve never lost a fight! It’s the name of winners!”

Mikey made a so-so gesture. “We have actually lost several fights.”

“Not the really big ones, so it doesn’t…hey,” he said slowly. “I was talkin' about your arms! Are you using Cream to distract me?”

“Whaaaaat, noooooo, why would I?” Mikey batted his eyes. “I’m your littlest brother! But Cream is even littler than me, so if you’re going to pull Big Brother mode, better aim it at someone who needs it more. Anyway I’m heading inside okay baiiii!”

He flounced inside with Klunk, Todd chuckling behind him.

“Wait – Mikey, you – she’s sleeping on me! How am I supposed to move? Mikey!”

@sariphantom

[merp-blerp]

A Gaylor Interpretation of "August"

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

This post definitely got my gears turning about this song and the whole teenage love triangle in general. As a newcomer to this fandom, I had been wondering who the narrator of "August", who I'll be calling August for this reading, represented. If Taylor is James and most agree Karlie is Betty, who's August? For a while, I assumed Dianna maybe, but I think this answer of it being the music industry/brand was a very thought-provoking one.

"Salt air, and the rust on your door // I never needed anything more // Whispers of 'Are you sure?' // 'Never have I ever before'"

From what I gather, salt air is meant to potentially be destructive on buildings. It explains the rust on the door. Pretty immediately my mind goes to Taylor/James's closet door. It's rusted so she can't get out. This could also signify that the closet is old, so old that it's begun to rust. If Taylor has been closeted since the beginning, she's been there for almost two decades, so the door is rusted. And August/the brand/the industry "never needed anything more". To keep itself marketable, the brand needs Taylor to stay in the closet, as she is, especially post this album's release, the biggest thing to have grazed the industry in a while. Once in twenty lifetimes, you could say.

The brand mentioning whispers could be them mentioning Taylor's doubts to begin/keep up the charade of closeting herself. Is she sure she wants to stay like this? "Never have I ever before" to me sounds like a response. Never has the industry had to deal with the threat of a closeted cog in their machine coming out in a way that would blast the industry's reputation so bad, as we know TTPD seems to officially throw away the kid gloves towards the industry.

"But I can see us lost in the memory // August slipped away into a moment in time // 'Cause it was never mine // And I can see us twisted in bedsheets // August sipped away like a bottle of wine // 'Cause you were never mine"

This song seems to be what Taylor at least wants the industry/brand to be self-aware of. That even if Taylor/James enjoys moments with the industry and playing with the brand, she will not stay in the way it wants. When it comes to the love triangle story, "twisted in bedsheets" is definitely a sexual reference, but through this reading, it could be one of Taylor's sleepless nights, anxious about her decisions.

"Your back beneath the sun // Wishin' I could write my name on it // Will you call when you're back at school? // I remember thinkin' I had you"

It might be a bit silly, but "Will you call when you're back at school?" reminds me of the fact that Taylor missed her prom to go to the Grammys in 2008. She wasn't forced to or anything, it wasn't traumatic, but her life was definitely wrapped up in her career and therefore her brand from an early age. Even when she had important things like school to look to, her career always overshadowed everything else. The brand thought she had Taylor in her grip, owning her fully.

One thing that persists about August/the brand is she wants to own James/Taylor. Language like "had you" and writing your name on something all communicate this. For the character of August, it's innocent wanting of a love interest, but for the brand, the idea of it wanting to own Taylor's personhood is a bit daunting. The brand wants to keep Taylor in its image.

"Back when we were still changin' for the better // Wanting was enough // For me, it was enough // To live for the hope of it all // Cancel plans just in case you'd call // And say, "Meet me behind the mall" // So much for summer love and saying "us" // 'Cause you weren't mine to lose // You weren't mine to lose, no"

The brand and Taylor changed for the better. Taylor closeted herself and the brand re-branded over and over into different eras. For the brand, it was enough to want fame and to keep Taylor in line. To live for the hope of making it. "Cancel plans just in case you'd call // And say, 'Meet me behind the mall'" and its relation to "Ends with meetings in parking lots" from "Ilisit Affairs" reminds me of Taylor's first-ever show that took place in a parking lot in 2006. Taylor shook up the country music scene when she arrived. From my understanding, a lot of country was populated mostly by men singing about patriotism in a still freshly post 9/11 world. But Taylor was a young girl singing about her personal life and others's stories. The industry's plans were canceled as it sought a fresh page in Taylor. She called and met with her brand in a parking lot, which could theoretically be behind a mall (I don't know if it actually was).

But a lot of that is "lost in the memory", as Taylor's desire to burn it all down and slip away from, at least this type of all-consuming branding, grew. Lover was a failed attempt, but it wouldn't be the last as it currently feels like Taylor might have something over the horizon. This personification of the brand now knows that Taylor was never hers. The brand never owned Taylor and August never owned James.

"But do you remember? // Remember when I pulled up and said, 'Get in the car'"

I've gone at length in previous analyses about how cars often represent running away, hiding, and misbehaving in Taylor's music, and by extension, cars are often the closet. Taylor is lured by the industry's closet, but leaves, the only closet she enters being her own by choice with Betty in the ending of "Betty". Taylor's brand wanted her in the closet, and she got in, but James was always going to go back to Betty.

[silkling]

Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

[jaskiersvalley]

I just wanted to say a) oh my gods the cute laiden fluff I die. b) holy crap you wrote that cute Little!Lambert fic I found a bit ago! Nice!! And c) rawrkin explicitly told me you were nice and worth messaging and who am I to pass up such an endorsement? I love your stuff it's very good. 💜💜💜

Considering I’ve already come and made a twit of myself in your inbox in response to this, I’ll keep it brief (and in reverse order). C) @rawrkinjd is out there being lovely and spreading rumours that I’m nice XD We all know they are the real sweetheart here! B) I’ve had a few more asks about Little Lambert come in (with Aiden getting involved too...) so there may be more of that to come. C) Fluff is where my heart will always lie. There are so many unhappy endings in real life, let fandom be where everyone gets to be happy and cute. With that in mind, I may work a hint of Laiden into your thank you ficlet which is a vague companion/follow-up to this one. :D

It seemed that Yennefer wasn’t best pleased with how winter was shaping up. The path up to the keep was still open and Lambert had been glancing out towards the approach regularly, as if expecting someone. Eskel seemed to be in on it, sometimes standing with him, a hand on the small of Lambert’s back, murmuring a soft “he’ll be here” at times. That already had Yennefer rolling her eyes. She still seemed quite bitter that her spell to turn the witchers into children hadn’t taught whatever lesson she wanted to instill in them.

As it tended to be, things came to a head with Jaskier. He had tugged playfully at one of the decorative ribbons on Yennefer’s dress as they moved around the dining hall, settling down for dinner. As Jaskier sat down, Lambert glanced longingly towards the door with a sigh.

“Have your happy families,” Yennefer growled and Jaskier was enveloped in a puff of purple smoke. As it cleared, a large eyed child sat in his place.

Nobody dared move for a moment, taking in the sight of a de-aged Jaskier until Lambert cleared his throat. “Oh no. He’s adorable.”

Not just adorable, also impeccably well mannered. Jaskier ate his dinner, already behaving like a dainty little lordling. It was all endearing and none of the witchers could look away from a toddler who had more table manners than the lot of them combined.

“Thank you very much for dinner,” Jaskier lisped. and Vesemir could see every stone cold witcher heart thaw in the room - including his own.

Settling Jaskier down for the night was an easy affair, he was sleepy, seemed quite determined that as it was evening, he would go to bed. That night, the wolves gathered in front of the fire and sighed.

“I didn’t think children could ever be this polite.” As he spoke, Vesemir stared into the fire. “None of you lot were ever this good.”

Famous last words. In the morning, Jaskier was gone. Not disappeared but definitely nowhere to be found. His altered scent led the witchers on a merry trail across the whole keep. Even worse, there was the occasional childish giggle and the patter of feet but Jaskier was nowhere to be found. They spent a whole morning looking, splitting up and taking different floors and wings of the keep, even going into areas that had been considered closed off for decades because nobody wanted to remember what happened behind certain doors.

It was futile, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. Even worse, the trail grew cold, there were no pattering feet or more giggles. The witchers reconvened in the dining room, looking haggard already, only to find Vesemir stood in the middle, staring up into the rafters, one hand raised to silence his wolves. Without a word, he pointed up into the vaulted ceilings. Only thanks to enhanced vision did the witchers see the small figure draped over a girder, arm dangling limply as Jaskier slept.

“How to we get him down from there?” Eskel asked, looking around.

“My question is, how did he get up there?” The counter from Lambert was also a fair one.

Before any answers could be give, Geralt broke into a run with “he’s rolling!” grunted between puffs of exertion. Sure enough, Jaskier had turned from his back to his side and gravity was doing its thing. Almost in slow motion, Jaskier toppled from the rafter.

“Eskel! Aard!” Geralt yelled. Only years of training together had Eskel sending a moderate blast towards Jaskier’s falling body. It won them enough time that Geralt could leap the final few meters and he caught Jaskier in his arms, his own shoulder slamming into the ground rather than their bard’s.

“Again! Again! Again!” Jaskier trilled, seemingly waking up without any kind of transition from sleep to sleepy to awake. Before anyone could react, he was up and off, rushing into the kitchen and, a moment later, running across a beam up high. “Catch me Geralt!”

The next minute Jaskier was falling again with a childish “whee!” and Eskel had to use aard to direct him towards Geralt once again. Thus the newest game was born. Jaskier had boundless energy to run, climb and jump, only to repeat again. And again. And again. Even Eskel was feeling the strain, his signs coming out weaker while Geralt huffed and puffed at having to run around to catch Jaskier who jumped off random beams, never the same one.

“Last one, then it’s lunch time,” Vesemir’s voice was clear through the hall and Jaskier took a running jump, almost missing Geralt as Eskel’s aard didn’t give him enough of a boost.

Sitting at the table, Jaskier eyed the plate of food, heated up remains from the previous night. While the witchers tucked in, Jaskier pushed it around on his plate before shoving it away.

“I don’t like it.”

“You ate it yesterday,” Geralt replied around a mouthful.

“But I don’t like it today. I want grouse.”

Even if Kaer Morhen had a stash of grouse, they wouldn’t have cooked any just because Jaskier was being picky. They ignored his indignant kicking of the table leg. The first sniffle and smell of salty tears had all of them looking up. Jaskier’s cheeky were ruddy red and large crocodile tears trickled down his cheeks.

“But I want grouse,” he wailed, voice breaking on a shriek.

Vesemir had honestly thought he had seen everything in his many years. But not once had he watched a child slither down a chair, muscles lax yet tight with rage. On the floor, Jaskier truly let loose, screaming, little fists pounding into the stone of the floor. The witchers all froze and stared at each other, not knowing what to do.

“If you won’t eat it, you’ll go hungry,” Vesemir ventured when Jaskier took a breath. Another howl of rage was his only answer.

Eskel was the first to decide this wasn’t for him. He picked up his plate and carried it into the kitchen, finishing his meal there, Geralt rapidly joining him. A look was exchanged between Vesemir and Lambert, neither wanting to be the last one left with a hysterical child. By virtue of being nearer the door, Vesemir won and made his hasty retreat.

Left alone with Jaskier, Lambert looked at his plate and then towards the door that led to the entrance of the keep. When no help seemed to come, he shrugged and kept eating.

There was a lull in Jaskier’s theatrics and Lambert felt a small wave of relief. “Hey kid, you done?”

“No.” More screaming.

“Okay.”

Eventually, Jaskier ran out of steam. After lying under the table for a little longer, he climbed out and sat back on his chair, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at the plate.

It was less than a day since Jaskier had turned into a child and already the witchers were tired. Not just the regular fatigue but the kind where they would have fallen into a pile in front of a fire and slept for probably a whole day. Eskel was worn ragged from all the signs, Geralt from the stress of catching Jaskier, Lambert’s nerves were fraying from the screaming and Vesemir thought he was too old for this shit. Sadly, his concoction only worked on witchers, otherwise he would have already pinned Jaskier down and forced a dose of the stuff down his throat.

The main door to the keep opened and a newcomer strolled in. A little put off by the lackluster greeting, Aiden followed his nose and found the others in the dining hall, a child opposite Lambert.

“You came,” Lambert sighed a waved. Three heads peered out from the kitchen and Eskel waggled his fingers with a tired smile.

“I did. And who is this? A Child Surprise?”

“Jaskier. The brat. I mean. The bard.”

Looking around, Aiden suppressed a smirk. He had a good idea what had been going on. Rather than make a big thing of it, he pointed at Jaskier’s plate. “You going to eat that?” A stubborn shake of head was his answer. “Sweet. I’m starving so you won’t mind if I-”

He cut off his words as a fork almost stabbed him in the hand. “Guess I’ll get my own plate then.”

The others watched as Jaskier glared at Aiden and hurriedly stuffed his food into his mouth, hunched over the plate. For his part, Aiden hid his triumphant grin and walked into the kitchen, getting a slight shoulder bump in greeting from Eskel.

After lunch seemed to settle down, the wolves were rather hopeful of an afternoon nap. Children did that, right? They piled in front of the fire, grumbling. Aiden joined them, Jaskier sat triumphantly on his shoulders and clutching his hair.

“Now,” Aiden said, “we need to put these big babies to sleep. Can you help me tuck them in?”

Little hands patted the throws down that Aiden draped over the other witchers. He tried not to laugh at how they were all drooping, cuddling up into a tangle of limbs.

A few hours later they woke in various states of decoration. Lambert had a candle stuck up his nose, Eskel’s hair was tied into a lot of small bunchies while Geralt’s face was scribbled on in charcoal and ash, giving him the most incredible eyebrows and scowl. Meanwhile, Vesemir was adorned in anything shiny that could be found in the keep.

“What the-?” Lambert growled and looked up at Aiden who was far too entertained.

“You left me with the kid. We kept ourselves entertained.”

Sitting up, Vesemir had to try and hide his own amusement. “How are you so good at keeping up?”

“He’s no worse than any other kid.” The shrug from Aiden seemed genuine. “You had them here too, didn’t you?” A look at the wolves and Aiden’s eyes went round. “You were all quiet and serious, weren’t you? Other than Lambert but even his firecracker ways were muted by comparison.”

It seemed that destiny had already matched the children to the schools they would fit in with the best. And it was safe to say, if Jaskier had been destined to be a witcher, he wouldn’t have been a wolf.

[tsvestidiabolus]

the melody never changes

commission for @snurps

➵ my COMMISSIONS are open!

SUMMARY:  Robin's reflection on their newest crewmate, from Thriller Bark to Fishman Island, and Brook's growth from solitude to rockstar.

WORDCOUNT: 2529

CHARACTERS: Brook & Nico Robin

ALSO FOUND AT: ao3

Thank you for the commission!  I had a blast writing for Brook and Robin.  Theirs is a friendship that is immensely underrated.

To the charming skeleton gentleman,

First off, I’m afraid I must deny your inevitable request to see my panties.  I have self-respect, and I don’t think they would suit you.  Secondly, while we are not currently crewmates, our captain has declared you as part of the Straw Hats, and you’ll find him to be very persuasive.  Doubtless we’ll be spending more time together in the future.  In order to give you a warm welcome to the crew, I’ve decided to write a personal letter from me to you.  Partly because I know how it feels coming into this ship as a newcomer, and partly because I’m frankly interested in you.

As an archaeologist, of course.

We’ve recovered the three strongest of our crew, and those who were in the crew all the way back in the East Blue seemed to recognise the whale you mentioned.  It’s funny how life turns out that way - coincidences upon coincidences, friends meeting with friends again.  He’s called Laboon, right?  I certainly hope you’ll introduce me to him when we arrive at Twin Cape.

Nami is calling out to the crew - I believe she wants us to plan before we inevitably scrap any semblance of strategy and enter the main castle again - so I’ll have to cut this short.  If we somehow don’t survive and our mangled corpses rot on the island, which would be a shame, I’d have to hope this letter finds its way to you.

From,

Nico Robin

---

“Yohoho!”

Even now, despite all the hardships and suffering the crew had gone through in the past day, Brook laughed.  Such a melodic sound - one could almost mistake it for a song - yet it carried with it fifty years worth of promises.

The pirates were spread out across the castle of Thriller Bark, exhausted from their ordeal (yet at the moment that Luffy would shout it’s time for a party, they would be bouncing with energy) and taking their time to rest.  Some of them had been tending to their wounds with the help of Chopper, while others decided to help out those who’d been lost for years.  The Straw Hats in particular were fretting with worry over Zoro, even though they all were confident in his survival.

Brook practically danced past most of the Straw Hats, tipping his skull to those he passed by, before he settled right in front of the archaeologist of the crew, her nose stuck in a book.  Robin flipped to the next page of her novel, making no indication that she had noticed his arrival.  

“Ah, Miss Robin -”

“If you’re about to ask to see my panties, I’ll have to say no,” said Robin.  

Brook laughed. “Well, it was worth a shot!  But that’s not the reason I’m here.”

Her eyes never leaving the page, Robin arched a brow, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “Oh?”  

“I wanted to give my thanks.  You’ve made me feel welcome to the ship already.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Robin said, smiling.

“Yohoho!  I’ve never felt so honoured to call someone so beautiful a friend!”

With a tip of his hat, and a blank eyeless stare for a brief moment (which Robin later found out was Brook attempting to wink), Brook danced away from her, his skeletal legs skittling across the ground.  It was almost inhumane, the amount of speed the man carried in his light body, but then again their crew was full of monsters.  A living skeleton was far from the most terrifying thing in their crew.

As for the most terrifying thing?

Brook was bound to discover, sooner or later. 

---

To Brook,

Music has no language; it cannot be misinterpreted.  One strum of a guitar can tell a thousand stories and a thousand promises.  One beat of the drum speaks of a hundred wars.  One note of a violin can sing a song of sorrow in the drifting seas of time.  It is the one universal truth.

I see you sometimes, when I’m on watch duty, humming a solo that sounds so… lonely, and so melancholic, that it takes all of my effort not to climb down the mast and join you.  But I am a coward, so I leave you alone to your own devices.  To that, I am sorry.

How lonely must you have been, drifting alone on those waters for fifty years.  Only with your thoughts and determination to keep you going.  I’m amazed you can still smile, despite that (at least, I assume you’re smiling. It would be pretty strange for you to laugh without smiling).  In fact, I admire you.  And while I’m sure my words would have a better effect for you if I said them aloud, as I said before - I’m a coward.  It’s easier for me to write this down in ink.

But yet, you were on the cusp of madness, and you persevered.  You lived.  Sort of.

And to that, I want to know more.

Please, tell me your story.

From your crewmate,

Nico Robin.

---

Quietly, as the eve turned to night and the night to the dead hour, Robin slipped down the ladder from the mast.  It was Zoro’s turn now to keep watch, and she knew the swordsman would be perceptive enough to protect them in the instance of danger, despite his injuries and constant napping.  But it was not yet time to sleep, for as usual their newly appointed musician was out by his lonesome in the night, a gentle lul of the violin playing a song that reminded her of Ohara.  The song was enough to drift the boys and Nami to sleep, and Robin would have dozed off to the melody had she not felt so lonely just from the strings alone.  But it was not her loneliness that made her feel this way - she had long since accepted she was part of this crew.  That she wasn’t alone anymore.

It was Brook’s.

So, once she was safely down on the lawn of the Sunny, she joined him by the railing, leaning against the wood while he continued his solo.  His skeletal hands played the tune delicately, and in time she hummed along to it.  The nostalgia washed over her like a wave.  She closed her eyes and imagined Ohara again.  She could only imagine what Brook was thinking of.

As the last notes of the melody rang out and the song stopped, Robin opened her eyes and smiled at Brook.  He bowed his head back, setting the violin down the grass.

“Is that song known outside the West Blue?” she asked. “I’ve only ever heard it there.”

“It’s a West Blue classic!” Brook exclaimed. “Well, I say it’s a classic.  It was written by yours truly!”

Robin blinked.

“I would’ve like to tweak it before I left, but sadly there was no time.  The original music sheet must be lost as well!  I must rely on my ears now to complete it - but alas, I have no ears!  Yohoho!  Skull jo-”

“You’re from the West Blue?”

It certainly came as a surprise - after all, a majority of their crew had come from the East or the Grand Line, and she had no idea there was someone else onboard the ship that hailed from the West.  Even if he was the most recent addition.  Robin felt her curiosity peak up the more Brook revealed about himself.  His past was becoming more and more of a mystery to her, a clash between his demeanor and his tragedy.

Brook nodded his head in response, his afro bouncing as he did. “I served a royal kingdom there for sometime before I decided piracy was a better career.  Of course, I was a musician as well!”

She imagined him flashing her a grin.

“But yes, West Blue, born and raised - ah!  Miss Robin, if I recall correctly, you were from the West too, no?” he asked.

“That’s correct.”

“May I ask which is-”

“Ohara.”

She definitely said that too quickly, with too much of a snap in her tongue, that Brook paused and gave her enough time to regret it.  Before she could utter an apology, Brook picked up the bow of his violin and held it out to her.  Naturally, she was confused.  

Brook bowed his head down.

“I understand if you do not wish to talk about it,” he says. “I can assume from personal experience a deep tragedy has occurred there.”

Still, he held out the bow. 

“But know that Ohara is wonderful, and that its legacy - whatever that may be - is you.”

Curious, Robin took the bow and inspected it.  It seemed ordinary enough.  She couldn’t understand what Brook was -

Prof. Clover

Without realising, her hand had begun trembling from the overwhelming everything coming over her, and she looked up to Brook with glistening eyes.  The musician panicked.

“Miss Robin, I - I’m dreadfully sorry!” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean to upset you!  I merely - I wanted to explain that tragedies don’t have to - I’m sorry!”

“You knew the professor?” She was surprised she could manage to get even that out. “You knew Ohara?”

A relieved sigh passed through his nonexistent lips. “I stayed there for a couple years, back when I was a young man.  This violin was a parting gift from my dear friend at the time.  He’d just gotten his doctorate, and I think he wanted to show off.  Yohoho!”

Robin chuckled, wiping away a tear. 

“Ah!  But of course, this explains why you know my song!” Brook exclaimed. “Miss Robin, I knew I felt a kinship for you when I boarded this ship.  Us both being from the West Blue gives me a sense of familiarity in the crew.  I’ve never been more grateful to be alive - ah!  But I’m not alive!  Yohoho, skull joke!”

Robin was amazed, not for the first time, that Brook could joke and even dare to imply that she was the one being welcoming, when here he was, passing on Robin wisdom that she took twenty years to even consider.  It was often easy to forget that Brook had thirty years of experience out on the sea before the tragedy of the Rumbar Pirates occurred, but it was clear that those years were enough to sharpen the man’s mind and strengthen his heart.  But his heart was not made of stone, nor iron - it was laid out bare to the world, soft and beating, and his gentle lullabies sung of sorrows from his past that he dare not speak of.

So, she leaned against the railing, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Please, tell me more stories.”

And so he did.

---

Be alive.

---

She’d written the message in the dirt of the prison, pleading with whatever divine powers existed to ensure that the rest of her crew had lived.

After all, Brook owed her a concert.  One that would declare to the World that he was alright despite all the pain he’d been through.  That humans were resilient.

He’d better keep that promise.\

---

To Brook,

I do not expect this message to reach you.  The Government is constantly attempting to interfere with letters from the RA, and no doubt they’ll be trying to decipher any clues about their plans in this message (good luck, cowards).

It’s been almost two years already.  No doubt we will meet each other again soon.  I’ve been looking forward to this immensely, as no doubt you have too.  I think - I understand you, a little more.  Now that I’ve been infected with the Straw Hats’ boundless enthusiasm and joy, I can understand how you lived in isolation for all that time.  Not just because of the promise you kept to Laboon, but because dying would be spitting on their smiles, right?

Can you hear the waves crash against the shore where you are?  Do you hear seagulls, do you smell the salt?

Can you see the moon?

One day we’ll meet again.  I look forward to that day.

From Robin.

P.S. I keep hearing about this new rockstar that some of the Revolutionaries are raving about.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

---

It wasn’t a soft strum that the bony hand had passed over the strings, yet it was strangely nostalgic all the same.  No, it was a thunderous sound, booming across the concert hall and somehow could be heard over the screams of adoring fans.  It was unlike anything Robin had ever heard before.  No - she never felt anything like this before.  The vibrations shook her very body, making her suddenly aware of the blood rushing through her veins, of her heart pounding against her chest.  The feeling was exhilarating.

She stared from the back of the concert hall to the star of the show.  As always, his feathered boa and skeleton-figure was instantly recognisable, as was his laugh.

“Soul King Brook, hm?” she whispered under her breath.  She couldn’t hear herself over the sound of the music.

There was something different about his music now.  She would have to ask him if he changed his muse.  Later, perhaps.

Now, it was time to find the Sunny.

---

It wasn’t hard to find Brook after the battle at Fishman Island.  Where there were cheers and melodies, there was Brook.  Robin waited by an alley, listening to the sound of Brook’s guitar as he sang a victory song for the pirates.  The tune was new, unlike anything she had ever heard before.  But there was a certain gentleness to it, despite the upbeat and heart-pounding vibrations it made.  Like Brook was unleashing happiness to the world.

When the imprupto-concert was over, and Robin could finally approach Brook, he tipped his hat and stared blankly at her.  She assumed he was grinning.

“Miss Robin!  Did you enjoy the show?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure about this song, but it looks to be a hit with the crowd!  Yohoho!”

Robin smiled back. “It was happy,” she noted.

“Mmhm!” he said. “It was inspired by our captain.”

“Luffy?” 

Brook nodded. “I suppose that’s why you picked up on the feelings I was conveying.  It’s an honour to sail under his flag, don’t you think?”  His voice took on a melancholic tone. “I would’ve never expected to find such a crew years ago.”

Neither did she.

“Are you happy, Brook?” Robin asked.  The question had just slipped out, but she was curious to know the answer.  

Brook looked at her, tilting his head. “Of course I am, Miss Robin.  How could I create such a song if I weren’t?”

Robin paused for a moment, before nodding her head slowly.  It made sense.  Brook’s music reflected his feelings at the time.  And now, as part of the Straw Hats, his tune had become one much like their captain’s.

“Now, shall we return to the party?” Brook said. “I’m sure Luffy would want to hear this too.”

Not a thing could crush Brook’s spirit.  Not being alone, not despair, not even death.  

He was alive, and he was happy, and he would make sure the world knew.

Robin couldn’t be more proud to call him a crewmate.

[recentanimenews]

RECS: The Anime Man's Top 30 Anime (You Probably Haven't Seen)

  There is no doubt in anybody’s mind that the world of anime is vast and ever-growing. With it gaining more and more popularity and notoriety over the past decade, we are seeing an increasing amount of new faces making their way into the wide and wacky world of Japanese animation a.k.a. anime. But if you happen to find yourself in that particular situation, there is most likely one burning question cooking in the back of your mind… “Where do I even begin?”

  My name is Joey Bizinger - also known as The Anime Man. As per my name-sake, I’m here today to hopefully guide you in the right direction on your anime watching journey. Having spent the past 9 years of my life being a quote-unquote “Anituber” (anime YouTuber) and the past two decades of my life watching every anime under the sun, Crunchyroll approached me to ask for my personal top 30 anime recommendations, alongside my fellow anituber friends Connor “CDawgVA” Colquhoun and Garnt “Gigguk” Maneetapho.

  Both Connor and Garnt have made respectable Top 30 anime lists of their own; although I can argue that some of their choices are a little questionable for a multitude of reasons, they’ve definitely done a great job of showing off the wide variety of shows that are readily available to newcomers. In fact, a large majority of the shows they both included are ones that I would also include in my own list. So rather than just roasting their subjective tastes in the medium or repeating the same points twice, I thought instead to give you 30 anime series that not only I love at a personal level, but are also NOT included on either of their lists. This is so that hopefully you more experienced anime watchers can also get some fresh recommendations of shows that perhaps you may have not watched yet; and of course, giving you new anime watchers a little taste of what lies beyond the tip of the anime iceberg.

  While some entries on this list may stray away from the standard “mainstream-friendly” shows, I’d like to think that these 30 shows are still very much approachable regardless of your experience in anime overall. Also, as a side-note, these 30 series are not indicative of my concrete top 30 picks, nor are they placed in any particular order; my top anime list changes all the time depending on new shows being released, as well as a general change in my tastes and thought-process’ at the time. But regardless, I still stand by these 30 picks being great shows to watch for anybody who is interested, so let’s check them out!

  (Image via Funimation)

  1. FLCL

  Any time anybody asks me the daunting question of, “hey, what’s your favorite anime?” in-person or through online comments, a title I will find myself saying almost every time is this seminal 6 episode OVA series. Is it too much of a stretch to say that this is one of the most underappreciated, underrated anime series of all time? Perhaps. But it is a statement that I’m not afraid to express openly. This is one of those shows that is so dense, rich and incredibly complex in its themes and presentation that it will most likely blast past you before you are given enough time to fully process, understand or appreciate it. And I mean that in the most praising tone I can possibly give it.

  I might’ve watched this show upwards of 10-20 times, and even then, I’m not too sure if I can tell you what exactly the show is about. But what I can tell you is that the parts of the show I did finally manage to understand and take in have become some of the most life-changing factors that I have utilized to make myself a better person in real life. While at the same time, it managed to set an incredibly high bar of standard for future anime series to try and get close to (which might be the reason why I find most anime today nowhere near as enjoyable as this show… oh well). FLCL may not be a show you understand, but it will definitely be a show you appreciate and enjoy regardless.

    2. Monogatari Series

  Now let’s look at a show that also managed to change my life in many ways while being a multi-series, multi-film megaseries. If you’re a watcher of mine, then this is a name that you are probably aware of already, but I still believe that even fans of the show are still not fully understanding and appreciative of just how genius it really is. And that’s because a lot of what makes the Monogatari series great is lost in translation a lot of the time. Nisio Isin—the author of the Monogatari novels the anime is based on—is hands-down one of the most intelligent, ground-breaking, rule-bending Japanese authors I’ve had the pleasure of reading, and there is truly no author quite like him. And the Monogatari series is jam-packed full of Nisio-isms that turn this series into more than just a supernatural human drama story. The characters are colorful yet playful, the setting is dark yet humbling, and the dialogue—the most defining element of the Monogatari series—is quirky, clever, witty and profound in every degree. This is, again, another show that many first-time watchers may not enjoy. Heck, it may not even be considered entertaining for the impatient watchers out there. But the payoff that the more patient, curious watchers receive makes every mind-bending conversation and brain-melting story sequence worth it.

  (Image via Funimation)

  3. Nichijou - My Ordinary Life

  Comedy is undoubtedly a subjective matter, but one can argue that every person alive today has some common denominator of dumb, fun stuff that will make even the most stone-cold corporate cronies curl their lips into a smile. In the world of anime, I think that this common denominator might be Nichijou. Don’t let its English title “My Ordinary Life” fool you into thinking otherwise, because this surreal absurdist comedy show is anything but ordinary. Featuring an adorable yet abhorrent cast of wacky, goofy characters, Nichijou will have you rolling on the floor laughing while also questioning your comedy senses. There are numerous scenes that made me realize just how dumb and stupid my level for comedy really is, and I can vouch to you all right now that I have NEVER met a single person who didn’t laugh out loud at a single scene of this 12 episode anime.

    4. March comes in like a lion

  This is an anime about shogi, or ancient Japanese chess. But at the same time it has absolutely nothing to do with the sport whatsoever. March comes in like a lion is a beautiful human drama about the mental health and psyche that one must endure, grow from and live through to become a famous, successful person in a public competitive field. I didn’t even know how to play shogi before watching this anime, and admittedly the show doesn’t do a very good job of teaching you how to play the sport. That might be because the themes and concepts it is trying to present in its story makes it so that the sport or occupation can very easily be changed to something completely different whilst being able to maintain its core beliefs and themes in a flawless way. Suffice it to say, there were many elements of this show that I related to very deeply, and it is a show that many famous celebrities in Japan also stand by and praise for how accurate it is in its portrayal of its themes.

    5. Mononoke

  Who would’ve thought that one of the most beautiful and visually striking anime series ever conceived just also happens to be one of the most creepy, terrifying and down-right disturbing shows ever created? When people hear the word “Mononoke” they immediately think of the princess variant from Studio Ghibli. And while I do think it is one of the best Miyazaki Hayao works to come out of said studio, it has nothing to do with “Mononoke”; a 12 episode psychological horror anime that still haunts me to this day.

  The juxtaposition between its bright, vibrant coloration strewn all across its eclectic cast of characters with the hauntingly silent, somber, melancholic and static psychological horror themes and stories makes Mononoke one of the most jarring yet fascinating watches you can experience in anime today. Don’t worry, for all you non-horror enthusiasts out there; Mononoke does not rely on cheap jumpscares or sudden scares to push its horror agenda across. But just be warned… this anime will haunt your nightmares for more than a few reasons, and will definitely create a new standard of horror anime in your mind, as it did for me.

    Now, as much as I’d like to keep gushing over my favorite shows, most of you probably just want the list to read and move along. So here are 25 more anime series I recommend you to try out for yourself!

  6. Serial Experiments Lain

7. Gintama

8. Daily Lives of High School Boys

9. My Teen Love Romantic Comedy SNAFU

10. Girls Last Tour

11. Clannad / Clannad After Story

12. Eden of the East

13. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

14. Kokoro Connect

15. Blast of Tempest

16. KONOSUBA -God's blessing on this wonderful world!

17. Flowers of Evil

18. The Eccentric Family

19. Lucky Star

20. Durarara!

21. Slam Dunk

22. Angel Beats!

23. The Pet Girl of Sakurasou

24. Assassination Classroom

25. Yu Yu Hakusho

26. Arakawa Under the Bridge

27. K-on!

28. Scum’s Wish

29. Trigun

30. Kiss x Sis

    That last one may or may not be a joke, but I’ll never tell. Mind you, there are many MANY more shows I could have easily put on this list, but as I mentioned in my opening paragraphs, my two colleagues have already mentioned the more mainstream-friendly, well-known shows in their articles, so if you’re curious about those then check that out. Regardless, the world of anime is ever deep. I’m still discovering some of the older shows that managed to escape from my radar years ago, so it's safe to say that there is a lot out there for any type or level of anime enthusiast. Happy viewing!

    You can subscribe to The Anime Man on YouTube here, and to the Trash Taste podcast channel here. You can follow Joey on Twitter here.

  ---

    By: Guest Author

[goodbysunball]

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[ltleflrt]

Feels Like Home Ch 1 - Destiel Version

Small towns are quiet.  No cars, very few voices unless one visits the Roadhouse around mealtimes and at sundown when it converts from a diner to the local watering hole.  Sometimes the loudest thing a person hears all day is the buzz of electricity, or the hiss of wind kicking sand up against walls.

That’s what Dean loves about Lebanon Kansas.  At least now he does.  When he was a kid, he’d hated the small town he grew up in.  It was too small, barely a wide spot in the road, and he wanted to be part of the bigger world.  But after years in the army, and visiting many strange and exotic locations during his service, he came home.  The world is too big and too loud sometimes, and Lebanon’s small town silence is exactly what he needs right now.

So the sudden clang of tools is jarring enough to bring his head up to see what the hell is going on.  Unfortunately, he’s reminded rather painfully that he’s under the hood of a car when the back of his head connects with it.

Rubbing at the sore spot, Dean extricates himself a little more carefully from the car he’s working on and straightens to see what all the racket is about.  From the grumbling and cursing coming from the direction of the workbench at the back of the shop, he has an idea.

Confirming his suspicions, Jo is somewhat violently putting away tools, bitching and growling too low for him to catch any words.  Hoping he’s not the current target of her ire, he cautiously makes his way toward the back of the shop.

“Hey, I appreciate your sudden zeal for order,” he says dryly as he watches her throw a wrench into a drawer.  It nearly bounces right back out.  “But if you break it, you buy it.”

Jo spins around and pins him with her glare.  She has another, larger wrench clenched in her fist, and she brandishes it at him.  “These tools are made of fucking steel,” she snaps.  “I’m sure they’ll be fine!”

She looks pissed enough to bite through one of them, but he’s not dumb enough to tell her that.  Showing no fear in the face of her bark but no bite attitude, he pulls a rag out of his back pocket and attempts to clean some of the oile off his hands.  He eyes Jo for a moment before his eyes drift to the clock on the wall behind her.  It’s late afternoon already, and his stomach growls to remind him that he hasn’t eaten since far too early in the morning.  “You want to go to the Roadhouse and get something to eat?” he asks as if Jo isn’t seething with anger in front of him.

He isn’t surprised when she nearly explodes at the suggestion.  “No, I don’t want to go to the goddamn Roadhouse.  I just came from the goddamn Roadhouse, and now my appetite is ruined!”

“My treat,” he offers, ignoring her outburst.

“Are you deaf?” Jo demands.  “Why the hell would I want to go back there?”

Giving up on getting his hands any cleaner without some harsh soap, Dean tucks the rag back in his pocket.  Completely unafraid of Jo’s temper, and the heavy tool-slash-weapon in her hand, he steps close and slings an arm over her shoulder.  He takes the wrench, twisting until it slips out of her white-knucked grip, and sets it on the bench before guiding her out of the garage and into the afternoon sunlight.  “If you don’t go back, she’ll gloat about being right,” Dean says as a blast of heat hits him.  He’s already sweaty from working in the garage all morning, but being out of the shade only feels a hair cooler than the surface of the sun at the moment.

“She’s not,” Jo grumbles under her breath.  But her spine straightens and she shrugs out from under his arm to march ahead of him.

Dean grins after her, admiring the way the sun glints off her golden curls in an almost angelic fashion.  The little spitfire definitely reminds him much more of a demon the rest of the time.  A hot breeze sets him in motion again quickly though, and he hurries after her toward the air conditioned interior of the Roadhouse.

As Jo slams through the Roadhouse’s door, the bell clangs loudly to announce her, and he catches it before it swings shut, sighing in relief as cool air envelops him.  He wonders what Jo and her mother are fighting about today, but knows better than to ask.  Especially not within Ellen’s earshot.  He can handle Jo’s temper.  On a good day he can handle Ellen’s temper.  He’s not stupid enough to think he can ever handle them both at once.

Jo climbs onto a stool and pulls out a menu.  She glares at it sullenly, as if she doesn’t have the whole thing memorized forward and back.

“Heya Deano!” Ash calls from behind the counter.  His lazy grin doesn’t falter when he turns it on Jo, even when she tries to burn holes into him with her eyes.  “Hey there Joanna.  Back for revenge?”

Jo only glares harder for a moment before putting him on ignore.

“Hey Ash,” Dean greets cheerfully as he settles onto a stool next to Jo.

“The usual, buddy?” Ash asks.  His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed, but there’s a sharp mind behind that stoner facade.  For the umpteenth time, Dean wonders why the hell he’s hanging around Lebanon and not off working for the CIA or some other shady organization.

It’s not worth thinking about too hard though, because he’ll never know the real answer.  Ash likes to play up the mystery, and Dean wouldn’t know the truth if he heard it at this point.  Instead he turns his attention to filling his empty stomach.  Pie sings its siren song from under the glass dome at the end of the counter, but even with the A/C cranked up, Dean’s still feeling overly warm.  “How ‘bout the usual plus a chocolate milkshake?

“With or without the wakeup?” 

“With.”

Ash taps his knuckles on the counter.  “You got it, Deano.”  He turns and starts working his magic with the shake mixers behind the bar, and calls through the window that opens into the kitchen.  “Hey Benny, make Dean a burger.”

A head pops into view through the serving window, and Benny gives Dean a lazy salute.  “Hey, brother,” he greets warmly.  “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Dean returns the salute and nods.  He turns to his prickly neighbor.  “You want anything, Jo?”

“Coffee,” she snaps.

A long sigh comes from the other end of the bar from where Ash is working his magic, and Ellen grabs the pot and carries it over to them.  She pours a cup for Jo without a word, then walks away.

Dean resists rolling his eyes where mother or daughter can see him.  He’s not angling for a slap upside the head, just lunch.

With a flourish, Ash whirls around and presents him with his shake, distracting Dean from the silent war going on next to him.  He takes a long pull off the straw, and sighs happily at the chocolaty coffee flavor.  “Thanks, man.  That hits the spot.”

“Yeah, it’s damn hot out there today, ain’t it?”

They chat about the weather, even though it barely changes at this time of the year.  But soon Benny’s pushing a heaping plate through the serving window and calling “Chow’s up!”

The burger is perfect.  Juicy, and piled with onions, just the way Dean likes it.  He digs in, groaning at the tang of sharp cheddar, and licking grease from his lips.  Jo glares at him with disgust, and turns slightly away from him.

By the time he’s finished the burger and is contemplating how many fries he can manage while still finishing his shake, Ellen and Jo have defrosted and are talking softly while he pretends not to hear them apologizing to each other.  Ash is singing off key to the radio as he fills the salt and pepper shakers, and muted clangs and clunks from the kitchen keep him aware of Benny’s presence in the kitchn.

It’s peaceful.  It’s the reason he moved back.  The quiet and peace of Lebanon keep the nightmares at bay.

But he still startles easily, so when Jo digs her elbow into his ribs it’s only through supreme effort that he doesn’t try to attack her.  She notices his aborted movement and raises an eyebrow at him, fully aware of what almost happened but not impressed.  But she doesn’t say anything about it, instead tilting her head toward the wall of windows to their right.

“Hey look,” she says, just as he registers the loud rumble of an engine outside, “someone got lost.”

Dean turns to see a motorcycle pulling up to the Roadhouse.  Gravel dust rises around the stranger as he comes to a stop, and the music from Ash’s radio seems extra loud when the bike’s engine shuts off.  Dean’s eyes trace over the man’s wide shoulders under a black leather jacket as the guy reaches up and pulls off his equally dark helmet.  Mesmerized, he follows the guy’s movements as he reaches up and runs fingers through the tousled dark brown hair revealed by the helmet’s removal.

This time when Jo elbows him he doesn’t jump at all, but it’s a reminder to breathe.  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and turns his attention to her, plastering an innocent look on his face and hoping she didn’t see his reaction.  Of course he’s not that lucky, and he stifles a groan at the wicket glint in her eyes.  “Don’t,” he warns.

Jo shows him her teeth, more of a challenge than a smile.  Behind them the bell rings over the door as the stranger walks in.

As one, he and Jo turn to see the newcomer.

The guy stops just inside the door, and smiles shyly at the sudden attention he’s receiving.  “Hello,” he says with a nod of greeting before walking toward a booth near the window.s

Dean takes the greeting like a punch to the gut.  The guy is hot.  Smoking hot.  With traces of gray at his temples and a little salt in his not-quite-a-beard.  A beautiful mouth, and god those eyes.  Dark, maybe blue, and Dean itches to get close enough to find out for sure.  And the man’s voice, fuck.  Like a shot of whiskey, going straight to Dean’s head.

A little too quickly to appear casual, he turns back to the counter and looks down at the food left on his plate.  What the hell is wrong with him?  He’s seen plenty of hot men before.  Hell, he just has to look up and see Benny in the kitchen to find one.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ellen take the man’s order.  He catches himself leaning slightly in that direction in an effort to hear the man’s voice again and immediately straightens in his seat.  He stuffs a couple fries in his mouth and chews despite the fact that he can’t really taste them anymore. 

“Quit being a pussy and go talk to him,” Jo says, thankfully in a low voice that only carries to him.

“What the hell would I talk to him about?” Dean whispers back.

“You could start with an offer for a handjob,” Jo answers.  When Dean chokes, she smirks and pounds him on the back, and continues as if she hadn’t nearly killed him.  “Come on, it’s a great way to find out if he likes dick.”

Once his windpipe is clear he turns a glare on her.  “I like dick, but if a dude started a conversation with that, I wouldn’t be impressed.”

“That’s because you suck at getting with guys,” Ash says, leaning close to join in on the conversation.  “Want me to be your wingman, buddy?”

“No thanks, Ash,” Dean says dryly.  “Not sure you’d be that much help.”

“I could do it,” Jo offers brightly.

“Yeah, no. That’d be worse.”

Jo punches him in the arm, and he glares at her as he rubs the aching spot.  Which is a tactical error, because of course she takes it as a challenge.  She gives him a downright evil smile, and slides off her stool, shimmying away from his grasping hands so he can’t prevent the disaster about to happen.  She practically bounces across the hardwood floors, and plunks down on the bench opposite of the stranger.

Dean groans.  This cannot possibly go well for him.

This is actually a rewrite of chapter 1 of my most popular Mass Effect Fic, Feels Like Home.  I don’t know why I feel like doing this, but I do, so here we are.

[frickyeahfanfic]

READ MY MIND ~ quentin beck

pairing: quentin beck x reader

REQUEST: Can I have a Quentin x Reader, where she's an Avenger who offers to join his side, if he doesn't harm Peter, Fury, and the high school kids?

a.n.: i changed some things in the plot, so if something doesn’t exactly follow the movie, deal with it

word count: 4173

warnings: small mentions of abuse, abduction

_________

After the fall of Thanos, the Avengers were unofficially disbanded. Two of the members of the team were dead, and the rest had gone off to do what they classified as “more important work.” You knew that they would be back if anything catastrophic was going to happen to Earth, but for now, you had to hold down the fort. 

You were mainly a spy for the Avengers, the ability to read and manipulate minds gave you an extraordinary skill set that came in handy for the team. People and animals were easy to manipulate, in a way, you could send signals of commands to get people to do what you wanted them to do. But to actually be inside of someone’s mind, as long as you made eye contact with the person, you could see everything and hear every thought in their head.

Lately, you were the Avengers, along with Spider-man and Nick Fury. Peter Parker had school and Fury had to run S.H.I.E.L.D, so you were left to your own devices when it came to the chaos in Europe. 

You knew Fury was going to make his way over to Italy, and he wouldn’t let you know because he wanted to keep you safe from danger, so you decided to take matters into your own hands and fly over there yourself. 

After all, Peter Parker was your friend and you wanted to keep an eye on him as well, and you knew too damn well that Fury would put him in jeopardy for the “greater good”. 

Thank goodness you were there to get his friends out of the way when the water started to rise in the river. 

Peter had run in the opposite direction, allowing you to take his friends to a safe place. 

“Follow me!” You shout at them, pushing their backs away from the water creature. You focused hard in your mind and suggested to them that they turn left, where there was a sturdy empty building. They turned left, and once they all got inside you ran back to see Peter desperately web-slinging bricks around. You caught his eye and immediately you could hear the worry and fear in his head, along with “Why in the world is Echo here?”

A wave crashed over Peter and he was whisked away, and in his place was a figure surrounded by smoke. You stopped in your tracks and watched in awe as the figure’s hands glowed, beams of light evaporating the water around him. You were even more surprised as he jumped off the ground and started flying. 

You heard a crash and the building behind you started to crumble, and you could see Peter desperately trying to hold it together with webs. You were no help to either the mysterious figure or Peter, but you were dying to know who the newcomer was. Finding refuge behind what seemed like a sturdy wall, you waited until the coast was clear. It was impossible to make eye contact with the figure as a glass orb sat on his torso, blocking the view of his face. Maybe he didn’t even have a face. 

One last laser blast to the monster and the river settled back to normal. The man floated gently to the ground and Peter ran up to him, thanking him for his help. Thank goodness Peter had a mask on (definitely not his Spiderman mask), to hide his identity from the new man. He turned to Peter, saluted him, then the man flew away.

Something wasn’t right. 

Normally people have a sort of aura around them, like a thin sheet covering objects beneath. The thin sheet was easily lifted if you just focused hard enough, revealing everything underneath. It was tricky enough learning how to put the “sheet” over everyone’s thoughts, and it took concentration. Eye contact, however, let you listen to every detail of a person. 

However, the man didn’t have any sort of aura about him. None. There were no objects under the sheet, nor was there any sheet. 

Perhaps it came with his superpowers? You couldn’t quite make direct eye contact with him, but still, something was off. 

“Peter! Thank goodness you’re alive!” You exclaim, coming out from behind your hiding place. 

“Echo, why are you here?” He said, frowning. He pulled off his mask. “Did Fury send you?”

You laughed. “No. I wasn’t invited. I came to make sure that Fury didn’t put you in harm’s way.”

He rolled his eyes. “When am I ever not in danger’s way?”

Poor Peter. When does this kid ever get a break? You pulled him into a hug and he sighed, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“It’s good to see you, Peter.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Y/n.”

You step back and look around the sky. “Who was that man?” 

Peter shrugged. “He just saluted me. I’m not sure, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Whoever he was, we need him, he’s really powerful,” You said. 

And then you remembered you couldn’t read his mind. 

“Something was off about him though,” you interjected before Peter could speak. 

“What?” Peter tilted his head. “Something was off? Yeah, where has he been this whole time?”

You shake your head. “No, something else. I couldn’t hear anything.”

Peter Parker knew that you had incredible abilities, and knew how your mind-reading worked. 

“You… couldn’t? That’s weird, you can read everyone’s mind.”

Peter looked over your shoulder and saw his classmates clamoring out of the building. They were looking around frantically. “I gotta go, we need to talk later,” he said, turning and running towards them.

Your phone started to ring and you answered quickly. “Hello.”

“Echo. Why are you in Europe?”

It was Fury. He sounded, well, furious. 

“I’m allowed to travel. Why is Peter here? Aren’t you supposed to take care of him?”

“I’m not his handler. He’s on a school trip. Thank goodness he’s here, he can help with all the… trouble.”

You scoffed. “Fury, he’s a kid! We need to keep him safe, not use him to stop evil.”

“He’s fine.” Fury drawled over the phone. “He can handle it. Plus, you’re here so you can keep him safe.”

“Well, I don’t want to be his babysitter!”

“Echo, we need your help too. The new guy, Mysterio, Spiderman, and now you, we can stop these Elementals.”

“Fury, I’m confused,” you whine. 

“I’ll send you our coordinates tonight, meet us there. Until then, have fun babysitting.”

The phone clicked off and you groaned. Why was Fury so damn annoying?

You focused your mind and you could hear the minds of people nearby. You sensed the thoughts of a taxi driver, and you suggested to him to come by and pick you up. Within moments, he was there and you got in the car without question. You were able to manipulate his mind to take you to the nearest hotel where you currently had your belongings. 

Mind reading and control had its benefits at times. It certainly didn’t come without consequences at first. 

There were moments when you couldn’t block out anybody’s thoughts, so every hour of the day your brain was constantly bombarded with the chaos in everyone’s heads around you. Over time you were able to fine-tune the ability and use it to your advantage. Thank goodness you weren’t a “bad guy” because taking over the world would’ve been too easy.

Fury was there to help you control it. Without him, you would probably be in an insane asylum. At least you wouldn’t have to take care of Peter there. 

You decided to take a nap on the shabby hotel bed, relying on Fury’s text to wake you up for the meeting later.

______

PING

You swing your legs over your bed and pick up your phone. 

“Meeting. Now.” Was all the encrypted text said. 

You pack some items in a backpack, including your gun, and head out the door. A black car was waiting and you got in willingly. It took a sharp turn to an underground tunnel, and from there an Agent led you to Fury and Maria. A literal underground base was before your eyes, and you took in every detail around you before addressing the Director. 

“It’s late.”

Fury tilted his head. “Is there a problem with the meeting time?”

You shook your head and smiled, but you hoped you got your annoyed message with your eyes. “No. Not at all.”

“Peter should be here any minute now. In the meantime, I’d like to introduce you to our friend.”

You peer over his shoulder and out of the darkness melted a figure, one who was similarly dressed to the man flying around the river, fighting the monster. This time, he had no orb on his head, it was replaced by an unfamiliar face, scruffy beard, brown locks, and blue eyes. He was distracted by a hologram that floated in front of him.

“Mysterio.”

The name sounded sharp on your tongue and caused the man in the cape to turn his head. 

As soon as you made eye contact with him, his thoughts filled in your brain.

“And you are?” He questioned, trying to decipher if you were friend or foe. 

“Echo.”

“Mysterio?” Fury mused, looking at the man. “His name is Quentin Beck.”

Mysterio was the first word you heard from his conscious, and you couldn’t help but say it. You continued to scan his thoughts, trying to sort all the jumble in his head. He heard the name from the news on TV.

“It’s what the news calls him, ‘Uomo di mistero’. Shortened to Mysterio,” you explain, trying not to give away that you can read minds. 

You heard Fury’s mind go right to “mind-reading,” but you persuaded him to keep a secret. 

“Echo is one of our finest agents here. She has special abilities… and will assist with us,” he said turning to you, widening his one eye warningly.

Quentin, or Mysterio, reached out a hand and you shook it tightly, peering into his face, searching for answers. 

He couldn’t help but notice your eyes practically piercing his as if you could read his thoughts.

Well, because you could. 

You could sense the defensiveness, the caution in his head, and he warily took a step back, letting go of your hand quickly. He was scared of you.

How peculiar. You could hear him now. 

Then you could hear him in his head switch immediately to thoughts of attraction. Typical. Just for fun you squint your eyes and made him think more about you. Quentin swallowed, unknowingly obliging to your suggestions in his head. 

You turn to Fury. “What’s the problem? More water monsters?”

“We’ll wait till Parker gets here. Then we can let Mr. Beck explain. He’s already explained it to us too many times,” Fury said, checking a tracker that was probably keeping tabs on Peter. 

They’ve totally fallen for it, a thought popped up nearby. 

Huh? You thought loudly, trying to distinguish who it came from. More thoughts of deception and amusement filled your head. Your eyes landed on Quentin Beck, who was listening to Maria’s questions about the Elementals, whatever that was. 

Was he lying?

Maria’s thoughts were fascinated and concerned about the last Elemental, whatever it was. Fury was anxious about Peter on his way but nothing else. Dmitri and some other agents sat around or were busying themselves with other things. No one seemed worried about Quentin, in fact, he brought more security to them. 

Peter Parker walked in the base, and Fury did introductions to Quentin. Peter was in awe at Quentin, and you immediately felt the safety he felt, now knowing who the mysterious figure was. Peter nodded and smiled at you, then listened to the story that Quentin started to tell. 

It’s hard to decipher other thoughts when people are talking because the human mind can only focus on one task at a time. But the tone of his mental thoughts… something wasn’t right.

He implied that the Fire Elemental took over his world and he lost his family. He touched the ring on his finger carefully, as if reminiscing his lost loved one. 

The final touch, he said in his head. 

“The final touch?” You blurted, causing everyone in earshot to turn their heads. You were used to trusting the SHIELD agents with the knowledge of your ability, but you couldn’t help but restate the obscure comment that Quentin made. In his mind. 

“What did you just say?” Quentin turned around and gave a glare menacingly, but the rest of the crew was looking at you, trying to figure out what you said, and didn’t see the warning look.

Did she just read my mind? His thoughts were now panicked, but he assumed quickly that there was no such thing as mind readers. 

The next thing he thought terrified you. I’ll take care of her later.

It wasn’t a kind, genuine, “I'll take care of her”, it was an I'm-literally-gonna-slit-her-throat kind of thought. 

“Fury, I have to leave,” you mumble quickly before grabbing your bag and starting towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, Echo?” He nearly raged. “We are in the middle of this.”

“I’ll tell you on the morrow.” A short simple code that Fury knew that meant that there was an emergency, something you knew with your telepathy. You spoke to him in his head. 

“I need to leave. I could be in danger now, we could all be.”

Fury’s lip quivered, as if ready to say more, but he simply nodded and you escaped out of the base. 

Moments later, Peter came outside, followed by Dmitri.

“I get to go back on my trip! Fury just let me go!” He said excitedly. He gave you a thumbs up before getting in the car with the bulky Russian agent. 

“Echo.”

You turn around and see Quentin walking towards you. You’re not sure whether to run away or to stay, but acting scared might send off signals you didn’t want him receiving. You were glued to the spot.

“Quentin,” you say, trying to sound lighthearted. 

He stopped and folded his arms, clearly trying to show dominance. Maybe it was to make himself feel less intimidated by you. “Care to tell me your real name?”

“Care to tell me what you’re lying about?”

Quentin blinked. Impossible. How does she know?

“Know what, Quentin Beck?” You took a step forward and to your delight, he took one back. 

Can you read my thoughts?

Thought you’d never ask. You reply back in his head. 

He full shrugged, hands up by his shoulders. “I guess you know what I’m about to do.”

Suddenly he lunged for you, hand grasping at your throat. You tried to claw him away, but he grabbed your wrists with one hand and clapped another over your mouth to stop you from speaking. 

He wasn’t trying to kill you was he? Now you were suffocating on the spot, darkness spotting your vision. You remembered earlier how he thought you were attractive, now was the time to use that to your advantage. Thinking hard, with the last bit of oxygen left in your brain, you made him pity you, made him feel guilty if he actually killed you.

The hand over your mouth slackened. It worked. You inhaled sharply through his fingers. There was no way he was just going to let you go, you heard him thinking about taking you to his base. He lifted your body over his cloaked shoulder with ease. You couldn’t fight back, after nearly suffocating to death there was no way you could even throw a punch. As he started to march away, he spoke into a phone, telling whoever was on the other line to pick him up. Suddenly you were thrown into a trunk, and as the car lurched forward, you hit your head on the side and immediately lost all senses.

_________

“Echo.”

You opened your eyes to darkness, blinking a few times to try to adjust to the unfamiliar setting. Cold metal laced your arms around your back, and you could feel the hard chair you had been placed in. Unfamiliar voices filled your head, except for one. Quentin. 

You tried to speak, but your mouth was muffled by a tight strip of fabric that made your head pound. 

What are you doing? You tried to reach Quentin. 

She’s awake, OK hit the lights, it’s showtime, the voices said around you. 

A beam of light crashed down on your face, temporarily blinding you. 

“Tell me your name.” The words shook the ground and boomed through your eardrums. “And I’ll tell you the truth”

You close your eyes, trying to protect them from the brightness. Quentin, stop.

I’m not going to, unless you comply.

Comply to what?

The light dimmed and you were face to face with Mysterio, fishbowl head and all. You couldn’t hear him right in front of you, even though he was standing right there. 

He reached out for you and you screamed, but nothing came out of your windpipes. A gloved hand grabbed your neck, but to your surprise, you couldn’t feel anything. Suddenly Mysterio, or whatever you were looking at faded away, revealing a drone hovering in the air. The spotlight shone on your face again, this time slightly dimmer. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Eyes are the best deceivers known to man,” the voice sounded closer now.

Footsteps echoed in the dark space. Your focus shifted behind the drone, and you locked eyes with Quentin. He was dressed in one of those suits that actors get in for CGI work. 

Let me go, you warned in Quentin’s head. 

“Not yet. I will eventually... when I understand you.

This time when he reached out, his hand actually made contact with your skin. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look up. She looks pretty from up here, he thought. He reached a hand behind you and undid the gag on your mouth. You coughed and shook your head as the pressure relieved. 

He waited for you to speak. 

Nothing. 

Why won’t she say anything? You heard angrily. 

Because I don’t have to, You replied simply. 

“Stop reading my thoughts!” He yelled, blue eyes darkening, his hands now fists at his sides. 

You laughed. It made his blood boil. “You think it’s that easy, huh? Like I can just turn it off right?” Your voice rasped.

Quentin took a step back. “Is it, is it really that hard?”

You smiled devilishly. If only you knew. “I hear everything. When I’m around people, nobody even has to open their mouth, but it’s like I’m in a room full of people talking, shouting, crying, even screaming.”

You continued. “There are about ten other people in this room. I can hear all of them.”

The stunned look on his face said it all. You continued. “I had to learn how to focus on one thing at a time. Focus on one person talking. Sometimes it was hard to decipher if people were actually talking, or if I was reading their thoughts.”

You didn’t know why you were saying all of this, hardly anyone knew this much about your telepathy capabilities. 

“It’s a curse that I have to deal with until I die.”

You listened to what he was thinking. Is it that hard? I wish I could read minds, but maybe I don’t, that kinda sounds awful actually. 

“I’m… sorry.”

You sat there in silence, now staring at the ground. 

“My name is Y/n.”

Quentin repeated your name in your head several times. Pretty name.

“Thanks.”

You lifted your head, ready for him to scold you again, or even attack you, but he stood there, staring at you. He was deep in thought. 

She’d be perfect. A mind reader. She could even be my sidekick, it could give me more credibility. My plan would be flawless. 

Quentin’s eyes focused again. “You heard all that, didn’t you.”

“You don’t want me to read your mind,” you reminded him. 

He sighed. “But you can. I’ll learn to live with it.”

You furrowed your brow. “No. There’s no way I’m working with you, or helping you at all. You’re lying to my friends, and you still haven’t explained anything.”

“If I just explain by thinking, I won’t have to say anything out loud? Because I can certainly think faster than I can talk,” he laughed.

“If you stop treating me like a prisoner, maybe I’ll listen. Take off these stupid chains.” You lift your arms that were bound behind your back and let them fall, the metal clanging to the chair.

You stood up, much too fast and nearly toppled over. Your vision grew blurry and it reminded you all too much of what happened earlier with you and Quentin. He was still behind you, so he reached out and grabbed your shoulders to stop you from falling forward, then rested his hands on your hips to steady you. 

“Sit down, I’ll get a chair,” Quentin said, quickly retracting his hands from your sides, darting back into the darkness before you could say anything. He told the others hiding in the darkness to leave, and when they were far enough away, the clutter of consciences cleared out of your mind, leaving your thoughts and Quentin’s thoughts. 

The lights flickered on, uncovering the large, plain room that you were in. Concrete walls surrounded the proximity, and the ceiling reached high, windows blocked off from letting the outside world in. Tech equipment was scattered around the room, but the place where you were chained up had been cleared away, the glowing and beeping devices pushed back against the walls. 

The most surprising detail about the room was the drones, floating in the air, or resting on the ground.  There was still one hovering across from you, but it moved away when Quentin came back with his chair. He sat down and you mimicked his motion. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, pulling your chair closer to him. 

What is she talking about? “Um, sure?”

You placed your hand gently on his face. Before he could object, he slumped lifelessly in his chair, your palm still spread across his face. His eyes shut and he couldn’t open his mouth to speak. 

You were now in control of his consciousness. Fury didn’t like it when you used this part of your powers, but he wasn’t here to stop you. 

“Now tell me, Quentin, about your lies.”

Images swirled into motion as you saw things from his perspective. He was at some conference, backstage. Angry. Tony Stark made him angry. He made the drones?

“More. Tell me about Mysterio.”

A story. Made up by a colleague. So ridiculous, but believable. He uses the drones? Ah, they’re projections. The monsters are projections. 

You lifted your hand off his face and he gasped, the images dissipating from your mind. 

“What did you just do?” Quentin asked, scrambling out of his chair, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes. 

You continued to sit, watching him carefully. “I hijacked your subconscious. It’s not my favorite thing to do, but it gets me information quickly.”

He sat down warily, folding his arms. “The reason why I need to trick everyone is to get EDITH from Peter Parker. He’s too young to have that responsibility of Stark’s drone force, and he won't use it for the right reasons. So I came up with a fake superhero to convince him to give it to me. I don’t want it to be some supervillain,” he scoffed, justifying his next point, “I just want the technology in the right hands. Not in the hands of a hormonal teenager.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Fair point. But lying to Fury is a bad idea. What if things go wrong? What if they find out?”

He reached out and grabbed your hands that had been sitting in your lap. “That's when you come in. You can make sure that no one figures out the plan. If Peter gives it to me, trustingly, then no harm comes to anyone. He will feel safe knowing that someone more responsible has EDITH.”

He sat forward and leaned closer. “You have amazing abilities, Y/n. You can keep Peter safe. And, you’ll finally be able to use your powers for something greater, not just random missions for Fury or the Avengers.”

You retract your hands from his and search his thoughts, trying to find fault. 

“I know you’re reading my mind, and I’m telling the truth. Just trust me.”

You got up on your feet quickly. “Where do we start?”

_______

( thanks for reading!!! i’m not sure if there’s gonna be a part two. stay updated!)

[radstag-ghoul]

Chapter 1: The Alley Cat and Scarecrow

Wendy was definitely lost, of that she was sure. For the past hour she had been roaming the ruined streets of Boston, evading raiders, feral ghouls, Gunners andl Super Mutants, whilst trying to find Diamond City. The map on her PipBoy was no use now however, the screen having staticked out about an hour ago, leaving her to follow the crumbling highway above.

She was also sure she was as good as dead unless she found a better place to hide. Scarcely daring to breathe, the woman continued to cower behind the ruined truck, the tick, tick, tick of the Super Mutant Suicider pacing around on the other side just loud enough for her to hear.

"Where'd human go!" The mutated being bellowed. Wendy flinched, her grip tightening on the pipe rifle in her hands. Her luck at avoiding conflict had finally ran out it seemed. Just five minutes prior she had run into a band of five Super Mutants. Two of them she had managed to take out, though two of those that remained, she realized too late, were much more deadly. She had already seen what the first suicider had done, to one of its own comrades who had gotten too close, so she knew she had no chance against the remaining monster. She had been partially caught in that first explosion, thrown violently against a wall, and judging from the sharp ache in her left arm and side with each breath she took she'd wager she had broken a rib or two and her arm. Not to mention she was covered in numerous burns, her Vault jumpsuit riddled with scorch marks. She had also been seperated from Dogmeat in the blast, unsure if the faithful hound had even survived. Poor dog. I can't even look for h-shit! She looked around frantically, as the ticking grew steadily louder. "Gonna find you! Gonna kill you!"

Then, she saw it. Her salvation. From the corner of her eye, the glow of a neon sign. In her panic she hadn't noticed it before, but now it seemed bright as day to her eyes, beaming proudly the word "GOODNEIGHBOR" with an arrow pointing to the right. Don't know where that goes, but sure as hell better than sitting duck here. Saying a silent prayer to whatever god was listening, Wendy peeked over the hood of the truck, attempting to gauge if she'd be able to make it before she was spotted-just in time to look the angry Super Mutant right in its beady, dark malevolent eyes.

"There you are!" It bellowed, dashing towards her as fast as its thick, muscled legs could carry it.

"Fuck!" Wendy screamed, turning tail and running towards the sign and where it pointed. She could hear the ticking speeding up, practically behind her accompanied by the loud plodding steps. Up ahead she could see a door, with another neon sign above it. Though with a sinkimg feeling she realized she wasn't going to make it in time. So this is how it ends, blown to hell by the fucking un-jolly green giant. Never even made it to Diamond City. Shaun, I'm so-

The loud booming pop of a gunshot sounded off from somewhere atop the wall of "Goodneighbor", a bullet whistling over her head towards the monster behind her. Hearing a strangled grunt and a loud thud Wendy would wheel about, to see her pursuer lying dead on the ground, blood pooling from its ruined left eye, the mini nuke it had been holding having rolled a short distance away, no longer in danger of being detonated.

What in the goddamn...? Looking back to the wall, she saw no one there who could have fired the shot. Several moments later however Wendy heard a voice-distinctly masculine and somewhat annoyed- calling over the wall "Well? You gonna come in and thank me?"

"Uh...sure." She called back, Well, if he saved me guess that for sure means they're friendlies in there. I hope. Taking a deep breath, she would cautiously limp towards the door, slowly opening it and slipping inside.

The first thing she noticed was the man just clambering down from the wall, a sniper rifle holstered on his back-a thin wisp of smoke still wafting out of the barrel, indicating him as her savior. Bald with a patchy stubbly beard upon his chin, he wore the same style of black leathers and jeans she had come to associate with the bands of raiders she had tangled with. Which of course already made her uneasy, along with his sleazy smile. He took a drag from the glowing cigarette in his hand as he looked her over, taking in her current sorry state.

The second thing she noticed was the location she was in: what appeared to be a town of some sort-if it could even be called such. Two shop fronts stood across from her, and to her left a building she remembered from a middle school field trip-the Old State house. In the shadows of the building Wendy could see two people standing together, face to face, quietly conversing with eachother-the one with their back turned to her wearing a long red coat of some sort, and what appeared to be a tricorn hat. The one that faced her was decked out in metal armor, a woman, her head shaved bald save for a single, long crest of copper colored hair that fell in a wave over the left side of her head.

She continued to stare for several moments, distracted from the one who had killed the suicider-though her attention was jerked away from the pair as he spoke up, his voice just as sleazy as his smile "Now now, you can properly thank me, eh? Hows about some payment for saving your ass. And of course y'gotta pay for...insurance as well, being a newcomer and all."

Wendy blinked, "Um, excuse me? Insurance?" Is he for real?

"You heard me." He sounded more aggressive now, a more demanding tone to his voice. "All newcomers gotta pay insurance. And like I said, you owe me." He smirked.

Wendy felt the flush of red hot anger rise in her as she shook her head at him, "I don't have that many caps, and I need 'em!" She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why even shake me down now? What was the point of saving me when you coulda just picked over what was left of me?"

"Caps have worth, irradiated, melted metal don't. That's why. Not very bright, are you?" He sneered, tapping ash from his cigarette as he started walking nearer, blowing the smoke in her face. "Now, I ain't saying it again...you hand over everything you got in them pockets or 'accidents' start happening to ya. Big, bloody accidents." He patted the rifle on his back, baring his teeth in a threatening grin.

"Fuck off," Wendy snarled, with as much venom and malice as she could muster, raising her pipe rifle to point at him, satisfied when she saw him flinch at the unexpected ferocity. "Or you're the one that's gonna have a big, bloody accident." In the back of her mind she knew it wasn't a good idea. She was already tired out and injured, practically on the verge of falling over right there, though she was doing her best to hide it as she glared unwaiveringly back at him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of red approach, accompanied by a voice- slightly gravely, somehow smooth, yet with a subtle edge of command to it. "Whoa, whoa. Time out."

Finn flicked his gaze to the man, taking a step back from Wendy as she too turned her attention to the newcomer-the red coated stranger who had been standing in the shadoss. Though as he now stepped out of the gloom, Wendy had to hold back a gasp as she saw his face. Beneath the tricorn hat atop his head, the man looked to be bald, the entirety of his face and the rest of his head and visible skin covered in burns and scar tissue. Half of his nose had fallen off, leaving two bare nostrils in place of a proper proboscis. The outer lobes of his ears were likewise missing, along with most of his lips. Dark brown, nearly black eyes bored into the man, seeming devoid of either white or pupil. The coat he wore looked extremely old fashioned-a colonial frockcoat, completed with black trousers, a frill collared shirt underneath, and most amusingly a tattered old American flag tied around his narrow waist like a sash. "Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest. You lay off that extortion crap." That dark gaze fell upon Wendy, a slight worried frown tugging at his scarred lips, so quick she thought for a monent she was imagining it. "This one especially, look at her, she's shakin'. Must've been through some shit to get here."

Wendy blinked, realizing she was indeed shaking, trembling slightly, though neither from her ordeal or from Finn's threats. No, it was this strange, scarred man that now made her shake, much to her embarassment, as she fought not to look away from such an inhuman gaze, scarcely daring to blink. What is he? Is he one of those...things? He looked somewhat like the feral Ghouls she had fended so far, though much less zombie-like, decrepit and decayed looking, and clearly more intelligent and sane. He must be one of those normal Ghouls Preston mentioned.

For the briefest moment Wendy saw a flash of fear in Finn's eyes at the approach of the Ghoul, though he tried hiding it, puffing his chest out and crossing his arms "What d'you care? She ain't one of us!" He growls "'Sides, I saved her ass, she owes me!"

"What, no love for your Mayor, Finn?" The Ghoul huffed slighty, pretending to be offended. "Also I don't think she owes you anything. You were just being a good neighbor, right? So let her go." There was an edge of steel to his voice this time as he glared at Finn, never once breaking eye contact. If Wendy herself had been on the recieving end, she would have caved instantly.

Finn, however, wasn't as smart, as he took another step towards "the Mayor", dropping the butt of his cigarette and grinding it under the heel of his boot. "Y'know what, you're soft, Hancock." He gave a dark chuckle, staring right back unflinchingly at him. "You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, someday there'll be a new mayor." He cast his gaze at the town around him for a moment, trying to catch the eyes of those watching. Though everyone seemed to be carrying on with their own business, Wendy could see many people glancing their way every so often. The woman in combat armor was the only one who seemed to have her full attention focused on the scene, smirking as she leaned against one of the shop walls.

Hancock gave a small sigh, his expression softening some as he seemed to drop the "tough mayor" act. "Come on, man, this is me we're talking about." His lips curving into an easy soft smile, he started walking towards Finn. "Let me tell ya something..." He extended a hand to the man, placing it on his shoulder as if he were about to pull him into an embrace. Finn looked uneasy, though uncrossed his arms, letting his guard down at the Ghoul's familiar, friendly tone.

Wendy saw different however, as she saw the glint of steal behind the Ghoul's back. She didn't even have time to cry out in shock as Hancock drove the blade of a knife into Finn's chest, not once but twice, his smile twisting into a savage grin. Finn gave a strangled cry, his face frozen into a mask of shock, anguish, and betrayal. As the man toppled over, twitching and gasping as his life ebbed away and the blood pooled under him, Hancock uttered a loud tsk tsk tsk, wiping the bloodied blade on a rag he produced from somewhere within the frock coat. "Now why'd you have to go and say that, huh? You're breaking my heart over here." Raising his gaze from the dying man, those dark orbs focused on Wendy, that worried frown having returned. "You alright, sister?"

Wendy swallowed hard, struggling to find her words after witnessing such an unexpected, brutal act. "I-I, uh, th-thanks?" She stuttered stupidly, wheezing some. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off some, her side was starting to scream with pain, making it much harder to breathe. With alarm she noted her vision starting to swim, as her knees shook violently, threatening to give way beneath her. "Jus...need a mo'..."

Hancock blinked, walking nearer to her, reaching out a hand as if to steady her. A hand still spattered with Finn's blood. Already he sounded somewhat distorted and far away to her, seeming to grow and stretch further and further away "Shit, I'm gonna take...as a 'no'. Listen...a stimpak...y'need...it easy?"

Thats all she heard as she crumpled to the pavement beneath her, the stress and strain of her injuries and ordeal finally catching u to her. As her vision blurred and darkened, she heard a few last words before she slipped into unconsciousness

"Poor little Alley Cat..."

* * * * * * *

Hancock swore loudly, rushing forward to try to catch the woman before she fell-too late, sadly. He should have expected that to happen eventually given her current state. It was pretty damn impressive she didn't collapse as soon as she stepped through the gate. "Shit..." He sighed as he knelt beside her, calling over his shoulder to Fahrenheit as he heard her approach "Think she's gonna need more than one stimpak. Medex too. Also, got any radaway on ya? Feel like she's gonna need it. Poor Little Alley Cat..." He murmured.

The woman's right side was covered in burns, most second degree but several third, splotching her Vault jumpsuit with scorched holes. Judging from the faint glow that lingered around them, Hancock could tell they were nuclear in origin. Thought I heard a Suicider. But no boom. Must've ran into more than one. Amazin' she's still alive.

Fahrenheit scoffed as she stood beside him, tossing him the requested meds "Don't you think it's a little too soon for that?" She joked, refeeing to his...untraditional use of the chem when it came to 'spending time with his smoothskin friends' "Don't think she's exactly up for it either."

Hancock shook his head, tsking as he nimbly caught the syringes and Iv bag, scarcely having to look"I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for that later, but it's for a much more practical use now. She's fucking coated in radiation burns." Taking the cap off the medex syringe, he'd slide up the sleeve of her jumpsuit, wincing in sympathy as the woman whimpered and stirred, the material rubbing against one of her burns. Sliding the needle into her vein, he'd push slowly down on the plunger, before slowly pulling it out, tossing the empty thing aside.

The woman lay still once more as the drug kicked in, seeming to fall deeper into unconsciousness. However, her eyes slowly fluttered open, glazed and unfocused, staring directly into his. Her trembling rosy lips parted, as she croaked out a single word. "Sc...are...crow..." Her eyes slipped shut again, as her breathing deepened, passing out for good.

Hancock blinked, not sure what to think of that. "Huh...alright then." This one's got "very strange" written all over it. Wait...111? As he continued to look her over he noticed the numbers sewn along her collar, announcing what Vault she hailed from. "Heya, Fahr, ya ever hear of a Vault 111? That even in the Commonwealth?"

Fahrenheit leaned in closer to inspect the Vault Dweller herself, silent save for a long hmmm before she'd straighten again, shaking her head "Can't say I have...she's a looker though, eh?" She joked, refering to the burn scar and white blotched skin that marked her right cheek. "Ain't the first time she's been burnt this bad."

"So it seems." Taking the radaway now Hancock ripped it open with his teeth, carefully pouring some over each of her wounds, confident there'd been enough time for the medex to put her out for it. After that he would stick her in the shoulder with both stimpaks, before he'd stand, motioning to two of the Neighborhood Watch who lingered nearby "How's about instead of rubbernecking ya make yourselves useful. You, carry her over to the Rexford, tell Claire she needs a room. If either her or Marwoski give ya shit, tell em I'm footin her bill."

He watched as the one he indicated rushed forward to scoop up the petite woman, grumbling under his breath as he hurried off towards the hotel with her. Hd nodded tothe other, jerking his thumb towards the still-warm corpse of Finn "You, take out the trash. Get that scuzzball out of my sight." Turning, he'd walk back towards the State House, not even bothering to watch the other Ghoul drag the would-be mugger away, making a note to check in on the odd woman later. "Now, Fahr, what were you saying about Pickman's Gallery ag-hmm?" The Ghoul stopped, his hand hovering over the knob of the door as he heard scratching at the town gate, as if some sort of animal were trying to get in. Then several moments he could gear barking, carrying over the wall from the otherside. Curious, Hancock strode over, throwing open the old blue door-his knife at the ready first in case of trouble.

A blur of brown and black fur tore past him, causing him to cry out in surprise as the beastie ran across his toes "What the hellM He blinked, watching the dog run further into town, heading in the direction of the Memory Den and Hotel Rexford. "...Huh. Well, betcha 50 caps that dog has something to do with her." Chuckling, he shook his head, closing the gate once more as he strode back towards Fahr and the Old State House. "Now, you were sayin'?"

* * * * * * *

Wendy awoke with a start, her eyes flying open to stare at the peeling, cracked, burned ceiling above her. Her mind spun in confusion, as she tried to process where she was and what happened through the clinging, groggy haze of sleep. Boston. The Super Mutants. Someplace called Goodneighbor. Hancock.

Suddenly something wet and cold brusher against her hand, accompanied by a soft whining sound. Uttering a small gasp, she turned her head to look beside the bed, to find a familiar canine nudging at her hand. "Dogmeat!" She exclaimed, scrambling to sit herself upright. The dog gave a small, happy bark in reaponse, jumping up on the bed. Laughing, Wendy flung her arms around him, not even minding the sloppy wet licks he gave to her scarred cheek "Oh, thank God...I thought you were a goner. Who's the bestest goodest boy?" She crooned, scratching him behind the ear. Dogmeat whined happily, squinting his eyes shut and leaning into the touch.

As she lavished attention on her canine companion, Wendy allowed herself to look around the room, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. She appeared to be in what was once a hotel room, reduced to decrepitcy and decay by the ages. The bed she lay in was nothing more than a lumpy old mattress on a rusted steel frame, with an old straw pilliw and a patched up blanket thrown over it. A wobbly old chair sat by it, upon which her pack and rifle rested-much to her relief. An old dresser was pushed against the far wall, with a smudged up mirror, covered mostly in cracks. Atop it, an old electric lantern hooked up to a small battery provided the only source of light in the room, casting all but the corners of the room in dim, flickering light. Those remained draped in shadow, as well as the area around the doorway-where she saw a glowing red dot, reflected by dark orbs above them: eyes, dark and inhuman, that watched her from the gloom.

Wendy's blood ran cold at the sight, the hairs on the back of her neck raising. With a snarl she reached for her rifle, fight-or-flight kicking in as she decided she would kill whatever was in the room with her, before it killed her. She raised the gun, pointing it right at those eyes, her finger hovering over the trigger.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there!"

Wendy faltered at the familiar, scratchy voice, as two heavily scarred hands appeared from the dark, raised palm-out in a placating gesture. A moment later, Hancock stepped into the lantern-light, a lit-cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth-the source of the red light she had seen. "There's no need for that. We're all near-civilized here, yeah?"

"Y-you?" Wendy sputtered, lowering the rifle. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Hancock shrugged as he dropped his hands back to his sides, taking a drag from his cigarette before speaking "Well, was here to check up on ya. Had some of the Neighborhood Watch bring ya over after you passed out, gave you a stimpak and some medex." Walking over, he carefully picked up her pack from the chair, placing it on the bed. He'd drag the now empty chair over to himself, turning it backwards before plopping in it, his thin legs straddling it and his arms crossed over the backrest. Smoke curled from the edges of his mouth and the remnants of his nostrils, the wisps slithering wraith-like along the skin of his disfigured face. "Didn't expect any of that Heh can't say I really blame you though," He chuckled "Wouldn't wanna see this mug after I just woke up. Either way, you're definitely doin' better than before I'd say."

Wendy took a deep breath, taking a moment to calm her nerves as she set the gun down on the bed near her relocated pack "Sorry...and, uh, thanks for bringing me here. Er, though I'd like to know where exactly 'here' is." She fought not to shudder at the almost unworldly sight before her, telling herself it was just a smoke trick. And of course the Ghoul's appearance in general.

Hancock tapped his fingers against the back of the chair, raising a hand to take the cig from his mouth, tapping the ash from it. She noticed that a couple of his finger nails were missing, those of his pinky and ring finger. "That'd be the Hotel Rexford, home of the best beds and best chems in Goodneigbor-well outside of my personal stash. Paid for the room myself, so don't worry about Claire coming to collect. Well 'least for another two nights." He didn't seem put off by her earlier reaction to his arrival. If anything he seemed amused, a smile tugging at the corners of his burnt lips.

Wendy snorted, quirking a brow "The best beds? I'd hate to see the worst..." Jokes aside, she was surprised at his generosity. Something's up here. "You treat all newcomers this nicely?" She scooted closer to Dogmeat, who appeared to have dozed off, curled up by her side. "Or am I special?"

The Ghoul chuckled, his smile widening "Heh, you're a sharp one. In a way, yeah, you are special. Not everyday a Vault Dweller comes walzting into Goodneighbor. And from a Vault I've never even heard of? Well, y'can understand why my interest's been piqued. Wouldn't do to have you croak in the gutter before you even answer my questions. Though honestly, even if you were just another dirty, desperate drifter? Still woulda done it." He shrugged "You needed help, so I helped ya. Simple as that."

"Yeah...I s'pose that's fair enough. So...what do you want to know?"

The Ghoul shrugged, raising his cigarette to his lips again, inhaling the pungent smoke. "Eh, was actually thinking I'd let ya ask your own questions first. Sure you gotta be curious too, Vault Dwellers always are. It'll make things smoother when it's my turn too. So shoot." He waved his hand in a 'go ahead' gesture, before crossing his arms over the chair again. He wpuld rest his chin upon them, watching her intently as she spoke, his tricorn casting his face in shadow.

Wendy blinked, not having expected that. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she decided to start with something she hoped wouldn't offend him, but she wanted to confirm, "So...you're a Ghoul?"

He nodded, seeming if anything pleased by the question, his smile widening to a grin. "That's right. Like my face? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies." His voice shifted to a low purr, as he leaned in slightly closer, flashing her a wink.

Wendy swallowed, finding herself blushing, much to her surprise. She coughed and flicked her attention back to Dogmeat, scratching behind one of his ears. "Uh, y-yeah. Sorry, just you're the first I've seen that's not..."

"Feral?" He finished, smoke trickling from his nostrils. "Yeah, I guessed. But, listen. Lota walking rad freaks like me around here, so ya might wanna keep those kinda questions on the lowburner. Not everyones okay with em. Now, what else ya wanna know?"

Wendy looked back up at him, hoping the last of the redness had left her cheeks. Come on, he's a walking corpse... "What was with that Finn guy?"

Hancock let out a long sigh, shaking his head in disappointment "Ah, Finn. Well until recently he was one if our best fighters...could drop a Suicider from-eh, well, from what I've heard you already saw. Really gonna miss him next Super Mutant Attack that rolls around...eh, well, anyhoo, he was getting too big for his britches. Wasn't really leaving me any choice. Way he was challenging me, threatening newcomers, had to make a mayoral show of strength. Though, I hope that incident with him didn't taint your view of our little community." He smiled again, his dark eyes twinkling, "Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, ya feel me? Everyone's welcome."

"Thanks for that. Goodneighbor, eh? That's the name of this little town?" Wendy mused.

Hancock nodded, his voice full of an almost fatherly pride, "That's right. We cobbled this little neighborhood together out of the freaks and misfits that just won't fit in anywhere else." He flashed her another wink, (and to her embarassment she began to blush again) "You make enough friends here, you'll call this place home soon enough."

"Ah, well...I probably won't be staying that long." Wendy admitted, feeling somewhat guilty. Despite herself, the more she sat talking and joking with him, the more she was starting to like the Ghoul.

He shrugged, seeming none too disappointed at this news "So? Doesn't mean you'll be gone for good, right? You might come back someday. Life's weird like that." Taking one last pull from his cigarette, hed lean over to stub the glowing butt out in a nearby ashtray, smirking as he settled in his chair again "Anymore questions?"

She fell silent for several moments, pondering what to ask next. "Just one more...what's your story, Hancock?"

Hancock laughed, grinning widely "Ooo, how I love to hear you say my name finally. Well, it's my favorite subject. I came into this town like...a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of the community I would go of on these...like...wild tears..." He seemed to gaze beyond her as he reminisced, expression unreadable before he'd sigh, soft and fondly "Ah, I was young. Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of it's kind, and only one hit left..."

Wendy's eyes widened slightly, quickly putting the pieces together "And that's what made you...y'know?"

He nodded, shifting slightly in his chair "Yep. Oh man, " He sighed again, his eyes losing focus for a moment as he chuckled "The high was so worth it. Yeah, I'm living with the side effects, but hey, what's not to love about immortality?" He smirked, his eyes glimmering from under the shade of his tricorn.

"Wait, you're immortal?" Wendy gaped, not sure wether he was pulling her leg or not. "But how?"

Hancock shrugged again, waving his hand in a wishy washy gesture "Well...not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads, maybe? Who knows."

Wendy took a minute to let all this information set in, not sure what to think of it. "Huh. Well, immortal or not, you're a helluva risk taker, Hancock."

He chuckled again "Only have one life, why not try it all? Now then," He leaned in closer to her, his eyes focused intently on hers. "So hows about we start with a name?"

Wendy found herself lost for a moment in those dark pools, caught off guard by the direct eye contact. "W-Wendy," She stuttered, before clearing her throat, doing her best to steady her voice "My name's Wendy. Wiggin." She stuck her hand out towards to Ghoul, offering him a handshake. Damned if I make it seem like I'm scared of him.

Hancock smirked, taking her small, pale hand in his larger, scared one, giving it a hearty shake "Wendy Wiggin...heh, I like that. Wiggin. Pleased to make your lovely accquintance."

Just as she expected, it felt rough to the touch, ridges of overlapping scar tissue rasping against her palms. She tried not to shiver at the sensation, finding it not unpleasant but definitely odd. And as he called her 'lovely' she had to fight not to blush for the third time in her conversation with him. Lovely? He sees the thing on my cheek, right? "Heh heh, well I wouldn't call it that..."

As she was about to release his hand, however, her vision suddenly turned white, before several quick, dreamlike images flashed through her mind:

An old shack on the shores of a small lake, two young boys running beside it.

One of the boys, now a man, smiling in a disturbing way, inhuman and long.

A syringe, filled with a small amount of green glowing fluid, held by a trembling hand.

A body swinging on a noose, a crowd cheering below.

And Hancock, his back turned to her, as they both stood on the roof of an unknown building, a fiery mushroom cloud rising into the sky before them...

Wendy gave a small gasp, returning to her senses as she quickly jerked her hand out of his grasp. She could tell from thestrange unfocused look in his eyes, howenver, that she was too late. What did he see? Me probably, or something about me. Fuck!

The Ghoul shook his head as if to clear it, blinking it confusion as he raised a hand to scratch at his bald scalp "Eh...shit, sorry for zoning out there. Jet flashback," He offered an apologetic smile, chuckling sheepishly. "Now where was I...oh, right. Your turn to tell your story."

Wendy gave silent thanks to whatever diety had given her such luck, glad to have avoided a topic she didn't want to discuss. They'll all drive me out of here...know he said this place was for freaks, but they gotta have limits. "Alrighty...just fair warning, itsa little...wild. Not really expecting you to believe it "

Hancock laughed, gesturing to himself "I'm used to more than a little wild. Lay it on me, I'm all ears."

Wendy nodded, taking a deep breath, silent for a moment before she started. "The Vault I'm from...111...it was some sort of cryongenic storage-thing. To tell you the truth, I'm...pretty fucking old. Like, before the War old. See, when the bombs fell, we didn't know that, my husband and I. We thought it was gonna be yknow, a proper Vault. Seemed like it at first, when we all rushed in. Hell, I was still so stunned I didn't even notice all the red flags. They had us step into these 'decontamination pods', me in one and the husband and baby in the other. That's the last thing I remember, looking through the glass at them in the other pod. Then everything went cold and dark..." She trailed off, taking a breath to steady herself before she started the next part of her unfortunate tale.

Hancock continued to watch her, scarcely blinking, though she could see the displeasure and anger in his eyes "Lying to a bunch of people like that...that's seriously fucked up. And they had you on ice this fucking long?"

Wendy nodded "Yeah...and from some of the shit I found on the computers of the 'scientists' who were supposed to be 'studying us', they intended to never let us out. Theu were gonna leave us behind once the radiation cleared. Luckily fate was as unkind to them as they were to us...they all killed eachother before they could even be let out. Tore eachother to pieces like animals according tp the logs."

Hancock nodded approvingly, chuckling darkly "Bastards got what they deserved then."

"Heh, yeah. Anyways...we probably would have been frozen in there forever, but someone broke it

Though they didn't come to save us. They..." She found this part difficult to tell, turning her gaze to her own hands fidgeting in her lap "They thawed out mine and my family's pod. They didn't unlock mine though. Two of them, one of em in white suits...the other one bald. He...h-he tried to take Shaun from Nate...my son...my husband. Tried to trick him, but Nate knew something was up. Wouldn't give him our son. So he...that bastard he...he..." She growled, clenching her fists as she fought back tears. "...killed him." She finally managed to get out, holding back a sob. "Killed him and took my baby. And I couldn't do anything to stop em. Could only pound on the glass...and scream. Then they put me back on ice...until the pod broke, and I was free...though it was too late..."

Hancock's gaze had softened, one of sympathy as he shook his head "That's vile...no parent should have to go through that. And your husband...so, I'm guessin' be plan is your lookin to hunt down the sacks of shit?"

She sniffled, embarassed as she wiped a tear off her ruined cheek with the back of her hand. "Yeah...I'm giving 'em hell when I find them. But that's just the problem, I don't even know where to begin looking. I was pointed in the way of Diamond City, but got lost." She sighed, raising her arm and Pipboy attached- the screen still fuzzed with static, much to her chagrin"This thing keeps fritzin out on me. Map on it won't work. So I got lost...ran into some Super Mutants. Managed to take out the smaller two of them, but then...those explosive ones-Suiciders you called them? Came charging at me. One of them blew up, fucked me up, lost Dogmeat," She patted the snoozing pup's head, illiciting a soft grunt from him, "Could only run from the second. Almost got me too...but Finn got him first. Luck I guess, in a way. So....that's how I found myself here."

Hancock was silent for a minute, his head tipped down, face obscured by the brim of his tricorn "Well you're right about one thing, that's certainly one hell of a story. To think you're that old...heh, only people who can claim that honor are older Ghouls. I'm still a young whippersnapper." He shook his head, sighing as he raised it to look her in the eyes again "But speaking of these...vermin again, I think Diamond City is your best bet at finding 'em. I have an accquintance there whose good at getting to the bottom of shit like this. Nick Valentine. Bonus, he could probably give that Pipboy of yours a lookover. Guy's got a way with tech." He gave a wry chuckle, causing a brief moment pf confusion for Wendy.

There's a joke here I'm missing. "Do you know the best way to get there from here? A way that preferably takes me past as few...friendly locals as possible? Though think I need a little time before I head out. Really need to stock up...get a new outfit." She sighed, refering to her ruinied jumpsuit, poking at one of the holes on her sleeve.

He nodded again "Sure, when time comes I'll draw you up a rough map. Heh, almost wanna go out with ya myself, but sadly can't leave. Up to whats left of m'ears in 'mayoral duties'...bleh." He made a distasteful nose, uttering a short, bored sigh. "Speaking of, I'd best get to it." He got to his feet, the chair creaking loudly "Thanks for telling me your story...I sincerely hope you get justice. And find your son."

Wendy smiled, incliningh er head briefly "And many thanks to you for helping me.

*******

Hancock shook his head again, trying to get rid of the strange feeling that still clung to him, annoyed at the white that still lingered at the edges of his vision. Some flashback...if it even was that. As an experienced junkie, he was no stranger to weird side effects from chems. But that had been something entirely different.

Closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples, leaned against the wall of the hallway as he tried to remember what he had seen....

A young girl, a mere infant, ginger curls spilling from atop her head, a white blotch marring her right cheek, clothed in a black dress. She was held in the arms of a likewise dressed older woman, her hair the same orange shade. Both of them stood before an empty coffin.

The same girl, older, cowering in the corner of a school yard as children threw rocks and sticks at her, screaming "Witch! Freak!"

A man in an old soldiers uniform, golden haired and handsome faced, smiling as he held a ring out.

A red haired baby, smiling up as he lay in his crib, reaching for the spinning mobile above him.

The same man from earlier, but this time a single bloody hole in the middle if his forehead, his wide brown eyes forever open and staring in horror.

And finally, Wendy standing atop the Mass Fusion building, a savage grin on her face as a nuclear explosion occured before them, her eyes in contrast strangely pained.

Opening his eyes, Hancock shook his head again, cursing and mumbling to himself. It's probably just your fucked up brain making up shit based on what she just told you. Her husband, her kid....but...she didn't say shit about the stuff I saw of her as a kid...I'm guessing that was her. Or that last part. What the fuck? And even then...saw it all before she told me all that...Bah ..I needa drink. Shit's gonna do my head in.

As he sauntered into the lobby Clair shot him a nasty look from her spot behind the front counter, her arms crossed. “So when am I getting what’s owed for that stray upstairs? Your people said I’d get the money. Mowarksi’s gonna-”

“Alright, alright. Enough. Told you I’d fork it over when I was done here.” Sighing in annoyance, he reached his handinto his frock coat, fumbling for the hidden pocket he kept caps in. Counting out thirty of them, the Ghoul strode over, placing the money atop the desk. “See? Let it be known John Hancock’s a Ghoul who always pays his debts.” With a wink and a two fingered wave he sauntered out of the lobby into the street outside, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a different pocket. Sticking one of the smokes in his mouth, he’d light it with an old gold-plated lighter from within his pocket, taking a drag. Giving a small cough he began walking away from the hotel, steering his way towards the Third Rail.

What a day, what a day…

[anotheruserwithnoname]

(Belated) thoughts on Picard S1

Due to a mixture of (pre-lockdown) travel and other things, I didn’t get a chance to finish watching the second half of Star Trek Picard Season 1 till this weekend. I have some thoughts, but I’ll put a break here first as I’ll be doing spoilers.

In brief, though: for the most part I liked it and I don’t get a lot of the hate being thrown its way.

Looking at online reviews of Star Trek Picard, both by professionals and amateur YouTubers, you’d think it was the biggest abomination since Enterprise. I mean, I’ve seen hate thrown its way that even exceeds that directed toward Star Trek: Discovery.

I’m not going to turn this into a commentary on Discovery. I’ll just say that I agree with 99% of the criticisms about it and I have no plans on watching Season 3, nor do I intend to watch any of the Short Treks moving forward after being turned off permanently by the awful The Trouble with Edward.

Picard, however, renewed my faith that it’s still possible for good Trek to be made for TV.

Picard is being criticized for a number of things, like violating canon. Yet I didn’t see it. First, the show is the first Trek series set in “the future” of the Trek franchise since Nemesis back in 2002. So anything it establishes about Starfleet, Picard himself, and the fates of characters like Riker and Troi - there is no canon to violate because we’re moving forward. There is nothing in Picard that is of the same magnitude of, say, what recently happened with Doctor Who. We didn’t have them rewrite established history by suddenly finding out Jean-Luc was a Romulan spy, or that he wasn’t really the captain of the Enterprise, or anything to cause decades of storytelling to collapse into irrelevance or be contradicted. Nearly everything I saw was consistent with what I knew and remembered from TNG. They didn’t even try to retcon the appearance of the 1701-D like Discovery did to the original Enterprise.

That’s not to say everything that was done to the characters post-Nemesis was great. I didn’t care or how Seven of Nine was treated, and they did a few things with her that I think were in the “because we can, not because we should” category. So criticism is warranted there. I also felt a few characters were underserved - including Narissa, who is (or was, RIP) arguably the show’s best character next to Picard. She was a classic Trek villain - yet towards the end we started to wonder if she actually WAS a villain, or basically the Romulan equivalent of Jack Bauer from 24. She commits acts of outright savagery to pursue her ends, definitely - but the same can be said of other “ends justify the means” heroes and anti-heroes. I would have liked to have seen her developed more. (Mind you, the way she is killed off by Seven does leave an opening for a return - that was a long way down, with plenty of time to pull some macguffin out of her hat.)

Probably the main thing that I liked about this show is I cared about the characters. I can even remember their names - something Discovery failed to impress upon me. Rios and his crew of holograms were great and in Season 2 I hope they do another meeting sequence where they all interact with each other. Yes, I know Orphan Black did it first and probably did it better - but it ain’t Star Trek.

One of the biggest criticisms others levy on Picard is that Picard was a supporting character in his own show. First, that’s nonsense. Second, Picard is supposed to be a dying man throughout and in his 90s to boot. This is why I think the idea of bringing Shatner back as Kirk isn’t going to work because he won’t be running around with phasers blasting either! Stewart is not the same man he was when he made Nemesis - and they don’t make the mistake of trying to pretend otherwise. Even at the end where they basically make him a nuBSG-style Cylon to keep him alive, they didn’t turn around and make him 50 years old again. If Trek wasn’t a TV show, sure they probably would have, but the reality is the actor turns 80 this summer, and who knows when Season 2 will be filmed.

The big condemnation is about how Starfleet went dark post-Nemesis. People seem to think that Starfleet is always about goodness and light. They forget about the high command plotting the assassination of the Federation president in Star Trek VI. They forget about the black ops division Section 31 established in DS9 - or some of the things Sisko does during the Dominion War. Apparently, one of Picard’s showrunners says the original plan was to make it clear the “darkening” was part of the aftermath of the Dominion War, but this was cut. Yet they don’t need any excuse - the show clearly establishes that Romulans infiltrated the highest levels of Starfleet Command (if you think that can’t happen, go watch the final few episodes of TNG Season 1 when it happens) and were responsible for the Mars attack that set everything in motion.

And the show clearly establishes that there are till bastions of “goodness and light” in Starfleet - starting with Picard himself. And the season ends with the synthetic lifeform ban removed, signifying that Starfleet is returning to its old standards. It works. There were also people concerned that Picard was going to somehow tie-in with Discovery (due apparently to some of the cast members of both shows posing for photos together). Other than a few small references to things established on Discovery, Picard doesn’t go there.

Is Picard perfect? Hell no. Although I appreciated the “slow burn” style of storytelling, which has been adopted by a lot of other shows, it is a tough fit for Star Trek. But I didn’t mind because it was interesting. But I can see others’ points when they say the first few episodes drag a bit.

The show also suffers from the usual “continuity lockout” facing any newcomer to Trek. In this case, you need to know a fair amount about Seven of Nine’s story arc from Voyager, the Hugh story arc from the later seasons of TNG, the movie Star Trek: Nemesis, and have a working knowledge of the Picard-Data relationship from TNG. It also doesn’t hurt to know that Bruce Maddox appeared in one of the key “Data is a person” episodes of TNG as well. Unfortunately, knowing TNG may also result in one of the few major continuity issues of Picard, and that’s the fact Data already had a daughter, Lal, in “The Offspring”. The fact she’s never referenced is puzzling.

Other issue I had: I am not a fan of the use of F-bombs in Star Trek. While I concede they were better handled than the juvenile “because we can” attitude of Discovery, it added nothing other than to justify the TV-MA rating (without the F-bombs the show - eye-gouging included - would have fit under TV-14), which some has interpreted as an intentional attempt at alienating younger viewers (Torchwood ran into the same criticism). I already touched on the mishandling of Seven of Nine (which added in some unnecessary storytelling cliches, especially at the end), and I thought Narek could have been better handled - he vanishes without explanation in the finale and no one seems to care.

They also missed a few bets. I would have loved for the mysterious tech-alien species to have had some connection to Vger from Star Trek the Motion Picture (it makes more sense than Vger being found by the Borg, which is a longstanding theory). And while it was just a destination in the show, and never seen, rather than invoking the name of Deep Space 12, would it have killed them to say Deep Space 9? There was already a visual reference to Quark in one of the episodes, but mentioning DS9 by name, along with Seven’s presence, would have allowed Picard to have connected the three “future” Trek spinoffs.

But I enjoyed Picard, and if they still make DVDs after all the madness currently in the world, I look forward to buying the complete series when it comes out, and I hope they make a second season (it’s been renewed, but these days there is no guarantee when or if renewed shows will resume production and too long a delay risks 80+-year-old Patrick Stewart not being up to it). All in all, quite pleased, yet still puzzled at why so many people hate it. But then I know there are people who cannot understand why I cannot abide by certain shows, so I guess it evens up.

[nyxdelanuit]

A Dream In Red Ch 11

A03

After the few longs nights this week, you awoke Friday morning well-rested. Nervous energy bubbled through you, tonight you would attend your first party with your new friends. Before that though, you had a few classes. You were glad you had the foresight to make sure you had fewer classes on Fridays, effectively giving you half-days.

You rushed through your morning routine, throwing your hair up quick before locking up. You felt too impatient to wait for the elevator and pranced down the stairs, two at a time. You skipped into the commons area, greeting a sleepy Tetsutetsu as you passed into the kitchen. You nearly froze in the doorway. Kirishima stood in front of you, hair down and tied back, with an apron barely covering his front. He graced you with a big smile as he tried to balance all the ingredients he pulled from the fridge.

“Want some help, Red?” you giggled as the eggs nearly fell out from the bottom of his pile. You quickly took them from him and grabbed a few things precariously perched on top.

“Thanks, Lil Mama.” He started laying out his ingredients haphazardly across the counters.

“Whatcha makin’?” You peered over his shoulder at his disarray.

“Omelets. I may not be as good of a cook as Bakugou, but I can cook up a few things.” You rolled up your sleeves and grabbed a cutting board. He cocked an eyebrow at you as you set up station next to him.

“I wanna help! I have way too much energy to just wait for you to be done.” You quickly grabbed some veggies from him and rinsed them off in the sink. “Don’t mind me, just do what you do.”

The two of you quickly set to work, you dicing up veggies while Kirishima readied all the meat and the eggs. You watched him out of the corner of your eyes as he whipped the eggs into a frothy mess. He was definitely passionate in whatever he did, whether he was good at it or not. You giggled as the egg splashed on his apron.

It was a rare quiet moment between you two, as you moved around each other lazily. All of Kirishima’s whisking paid off as you plated your breakfast, your omelet was large and fluffy on your plate. You watched Kirishima as he drenched his omelet in cheese and salsa.

“We spent so long making these taste good and you drown yours? You’re crazy Red.” You giggled as he stuck his tongue out at you, balancing three plates on his arms. You walked out with him to the common room, claiming a spot at a bigger table. Kirishima set a plate next to you and placed the other two across from you. The lingering aroma quickly brought Tetsutetsu over, sitting down with a grunt of thanks. Kaminari shuffled into the room and made a beeline for your table, sitting messily and nearly planting his face into his breakfast. The four of you ate in near silence, the boys across from you barely conscious. Kaminari was even eating with his face laid on the table, earning him a glare from Tetsutetsu. You and Kirishima ate slowly, every once in awhile discussing the classes you have today.

Mina bounced in as you were gathering the dishes, following you as you rinsed everything off. “Excited for tonight?” She asked in a sing-song manner. You nodded quickly. “Good, ‘cause when I’m done with my classes, we’re going to get ready together!” she grabbed your arm, nearly making you drop the dishes. You giggled at her exuberance, her excitement feeding your own.

After getting scolded by the awaiting boys, you and Mina scurried out of the dorm building and fell into step with the group walking to the campus. “Hey guys, where’s Sero?” You counted the group as you walked, holding your fingers up in front of you.

“Oh! He planned his schedule so he wouldn’t have classes on Fridays, lucky bastard.” Mina quipped, sighing. “But that means he has more time to get his place ready for tonight!” You and Mina cheered quietly at that. “Speaking of people that aren’t supposed to be here, you’re early Bakugou.” Mina leered at her explosive friend who scoffed.

“Whatever Pinky. Maybe I’m just concentrating on studying today.” He bit back, turning his face away from the group.

“Okay Blast Boy, whatever you say.” The group split soon after that, walking casually to their first classes. Tetsutetsu and Kirishima flanked you as your group approached the gym.

“Man, I really don’t feel like getting all banged up today.” You whined softly. “I’m gonna come out of here with another bruise, and I just got rid of the one I got yesterday.”

“Such is the life of a hero.” Tetsutetsu still yawned from next to you.

“At least bruises look manly! It’s a testament that you stood up to something.” Kirishima clutched his fist in front of him, and you wondered if he ever hurt his eyes with how often he seemed to be staring up into the bright morning sky. Damn morning people.

“Well, most of my bruises just mean I stood up to a chair or table. A door frame if I’m lucky.” You giggled. You should probably work on your spatial awareness. The three of you walked into Fatgum’s gym and split off into the locker rooms. You made quick work of your change and ran back out to the gym. At least you had the energy for this today. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu joined you as you were beginning your stretches.

“Alright. Today’s to nice of a day to be cooped up in the gym, so we’re taking it outside!” Fatgum announced cheerily to the class. He walked around a bit, a bento uncovered in his hands. “We’re gonna do some team battles! Once a week, we’ll split into teams and fight some of the other teams. This way we get to see some weaknesses we never would have gotten to with normal training. Today we’re starting with teams of two, your choice. Now let’s go!” He shoved some food from the bento into his mouth as he turned to leave the gym.

“Hey, Y/N, let’s team up!” Tetsutetsu had asked, but Kirishima had already grabbed your hand and helped you up off the floor. The two of you were already walking away.

“Sorry Tetsu, maybe next time?” You felt a little bad at leaving him behind, but you were happy Kirishima had picked you over Tetsutetsu or even some of his previous classmates.

“Alright Lil Mama, time to plan quick.” Kirishima looked over at you mischievously. “First of all, no talking out loud. Just get all up in my head.” He shot you a wink at that, and you felt yourself reddening, but you nodded. “I’ll be your shield, so you get to be my badass spear, got it? You get an opening and you take it, I’ll cover you.” His belief in you was invigorating. Before the two of you could elaborate further, Fatgum announced the battles. You and Kirishima would be up first.

You wandered out to the field, Kirishima placing himself further in front of you. On the other side, a sullen Tetsutetsu settled in front of a rather unique looking individual. His skin was a pallid green with blade-like protrusions on each side of his face.

Fatgum signaled the start of the match and you all fell into your stances. You quickly connected with Kirishima’s mind, and he flooded you with information about your combatants. You knew most of the information he had about Tetsutetsu, so you focused on the newcomer. Togaru Kamakiri, hero name Jack Mantis, quirk: Razor Blades. Highly offensive, sharp enough to cut through steel. With this information, you readied yourself.

Tetsutetsu set himself on Kirishima, both of their quirks enveloping their bodies. Steel met rock in a grating clash. You felt your lance materialize heavily in your hands and you rushed into the fray. Jack Mantis had his blades formed on his arms as well, meeting your attack with a quick parry. The fight would be drawn out and taxing if you kept this matchup. With a quick flash of information to Kiri, he separated himself from Tetsu long enough for you to roll over his shoulders. A loud clang let you know that he just barely blocked the hit that Jack Mantis aimed at you. Tetsutetsu stood in front of you, staring at you quizzically. You took this opening to probe into his mind. It was unexpected to him, and he had little defense for your unusual intrusion. As he was distracted, you rushed in to get a few good hits with your lance. You knew it wouldn’t do much to the steel-skinned man, but it drew his attention away from the intrusion in his mind. You quickly delved into his fears, trying to find the easiest to summon. Your eyes had grew hazy at this, you hadn’t had any practice in keeping up your summoned illusions, and a mental connection with not one, but two people.

This momentary lapse allowed Tetsu to move in close, landing a staggering blow to your stomach. You felt alarm through your connection with both boys, but you eased Kirishima’s worries quickly. For Tetsu, you quickly mocked a flash of pain, and you saw his face droop in concern. Then you unleashed your new information on him. Giant serpents burst from the ground at his feet, wrapping around his legs. You felt his shock and fear more than you saw it, and you materialized your war hammer behind him. With a resounding crash, the hammer broke through his steel. The snakes wrapping around him quickly took advantage of his soft skin, plunging curved fangs into his pliant flesh. Tetsutetsu fell, a frightened howl escaping from his mouth.

Your moment of victory was cut short as a quick flash of panic coursed through your head. You turned quickly, barely parrying the hit of a blade. Jack Mantis had managed to maneuver around Kirishima and was fully focused on you. He was quicker than you were. You would not last much longer without getting the upper hand. A deep, grounding breath stilled you as you delved into Jack Mantis’s mind. You felt yourself growing a bit hazy, there was so much going on in your head. You barely unleashed his fears in your head, it was cacophonous. So many thoughts, you couldn’t decipher whose belonged to who. You saw Jack Mantis hold onto his head. Kirishima was flinching as he made his way to the two of you. Kirishima’s fist hit Jack Mantis with a resounding crack, and Jack Mantis fell like a puppet cut from its strings.

But the cacophony remained. You couldn’t control it. You bounced fears and thoughts through your head, into Kirishima and Tetsu and Jack. It was deafening, and you couldn’t shut it down. Your panic amplified the sensations coursing through your head. You should have dropped Tetsu’s mind once he was down, you should have focused offensively. Regret washed through you, you were getting lost in your own mind.

Warm hands enveloped your face, they traveled down to your waist. Those strong hands gathered you into a strong but pliant body. A hand wrapped around yours, tightly gripping yours. Waves of calming energy filtered through your head slowly. A familiar sense of summer days overtook you. Your eyes cleared, crimson red filled your vision, and then darkness.

You awoke on what seemed to be the softest bed you had ever encountered. You opened your eyes and were greeted by the large grin of Fatgum. You were carefully perched on his plush torso.

“Good job out there. Want a candy?” He held out a hand, and a small sweet sat in the center. You accepted gratefully, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness helped wake you up a little bit more. You felt pretty good for having been unconscious moments before. Kirishima quickly made his way over, helping you off of his mentor and settled you down on the grass next to Fatgum.

“And that, students, is why we have classes like this. While Kirishima did an excellent job de-escalating the situation and talking down his partner, we are here to push the boundaries of our quirks. When doing that, it can have unintended consequences like what happened during this match. Now we can move forward in a more controlled environment and work on these issues in depth. Now that everyone is up and moving, let’s get onto the next match!” You felt a little embarrassed at Fatgum’s words.

Kirishima frowned a bit as he looked at you. Even without the two of you being connected, he could tell you were beating yourself up over the end of the match. He sat next to you, gently holding your hand.

A large hand settled on the top of your head, and you angled up to look at Fatgum. “You did good kid. It didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you two won! And earlier this week, you could barely connect to people’s thoughts. Kirishima here tells me you had three going at a time! That’s a lot of work in a little time, missy! Just give it a little more time and you’ll have all of the class eating out of your palm with just a glance.” He ruffled your hair with a smile and handed you a big bento. “That probably took a lot out of you two, why don’t you split this?” You nodded and took the food from him.

Kirishima thanked Fatgum, and he responded with a mischievous grin and a wink. You stared, confused, as the redhead blushed in front of you. For the remainder of the class, the two of you picked over the food and discussed the fights between your classmates.

One more slow class and you were finished for the day. The sun still sat high in the sky as you neared the dorms, keeping an eye out for Mina. A pink blur in your peripherals warned you and you quickly turned to intercept her lunge towards you.

“No fair! Come on, we gotta get ready!” She cheered as she untangled herself from you and grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the dorms.

[zerolympiustrife]

Favorite video games of all time?

Get ready for a LONG post, folks! However…allow me to break this down to my three favorite video game genres: Fighting games, RPGs/JRPGs, and Platformers/Action Platformers (both 2D and 3D). However! Since I feel like these posts are gonna take MUCH longer than I thought it would, I’m just gonna divide the genres into separate posts. But for now, let’s stick with the…

FIGHTING GAMES!:

Dragon Ball FighterZ: My number one favorite (traditional) fighting game of all time. My favorite ArcSys game of all time. My favorite Dragon Ball game of all time. This game is the reason how I got into the Dragon Ball franchise back when I’ve had to little to NO interest in the franchise, even when I’ve watched the ENTIRE Namek saga from the original anime back in 2009. The game’s GORGEOUS art style, every character animation’s (such as specials, supers, intros, victory poses, and ESPECIALLY the Dramatic Finishes) faithfulness to the original manga AND anime of Dragon Ball Z and other DB properties (such as GT and Super), the AWESOME soundtrack (courtesy of ArcSys theirselves, who’re known for awesome music in their games), the 3v3 gameplay, the character roster (though I’ll admit that having five Gokus and Three Vegetas is rather silly), having a new character design by DB creator Akira Toriyama himself, and lastly, being a breath of fresh air to those new to the fighting game genre (since the genre itself is notorious for its high learning curves) AND to Dragon Ball fans who were sick and tired of having the story of DBZ recapped over and over and over AND OVER AGAIN is a fucking sight to behold. This game FUCKING RULES (and a million times better than MvC:I). However, I wouldn’t call it perfect. I’ll admit that the Story Mode is rather lackluster, Arcade Mode is rather lacking, the Shop is completely randomized, and the Online Mode, much like every other fighting game, suffers from lag, spammable players, or just outright ragequitters. That, and the fact that, unlike MvC3 and BB:CTB, every character assist only sticks to ONE attack (meaning that more than one character is gonna have a Kamehameha assist), and that MOST PLAYERS you’re gonna run into is gonna main the likes of Cell (who ENJOYS dragging out combos for as long as possible), Adult Gohan (like Cell, also drags out long combos), and Vegeta (Super Saiyan, because of his assist. Need I say more?). But aside from those flaws, it is hands down the BEST fighting game I’ve ever played, next to…well, below.

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate: My number one favorite (unique) fighting game of all time. My favorite Nintendo game of all time. Series creator Masahiro Sakurai is a man that I’d like to describe as…well, not only doing the impossible and HIGHLY respected, but also putting those filthy naysayers about certain characters in their place. The fact that the whole point of Smash Ultimate was to include EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER FROM SMASH 64 TO SMASH 4 (Wii U and 3DS), INCLUDING EVERY THIRD-PARTY CHARACTERS DESPITE THE LICENSING AND DEVELOPMENT ISSUES THIS WOULD CAUSE is another sight to behold. FUCK Melee, THIS is hands-down the best Smash game of all time! The inclusion of Spirits, the Adventure Mode, the Boss battles, the gameplay, the kind of chicanery you can pull, the game’s main theme “Lifelight”, the roster, the soundtrack…there’s just ALOT about this game that I just fucking adore. What can you make folks more hyped about this game? Oh, I don’t know…why not shock everybody with JOKER (from Persona 5) AND BANJO & KAZOOIE (who’s still owned by Microsoft) being in the game. What I love about Smash Bros is how Sakurai is just outright defies those say certain characters can’t appear in the series for silliest (or justifiable) reasons. Cloud can’t be in Smash because his game was never released on a Nintendo console until 2019? No problem! Ridley’s too big therefore he can’t be playable? Fuck that! Banjo & Kazooie can’t be in Smash because they’re owned by Microsoft of the Xbox brand? It’s fine! Why? “Because I AM HERE!” -Banjo (JK, but seriously, the fact that Banjo’s in was quite a surprise.) Smash 4 is the reason how I got into Final Fantasy VII, and I hold the entire Smash series in high regard for doing so. Goddamn, do I love this franchise! But! Again, it’s not perfect. The Online Mode is MUCH worse than DBFighterZ (to the point where you’re more than likely to end up in a battle with Items TURNED ON or stages with distracting hazards, OR end up fighting the SAME fucking characters I hate fighting against, such as Little Mac, Falco, Inkling, Incineroar, etc.), and that fighting against EVERY single spirit in the Adventure Mode to get 100% can get rather tiring (not to mention that you gotta get BOTH bad endings from fighting Galeem solo AND Dharkon solo), lack of additional content upon release (Stage Builder and Home-Run Content weren’t even implemented into the game at first), and lastly (although these two complaints are one of more personal matter and one towards Square Enix), the fact Zero from Mega Man X, my favorite video game character is ASSIST character instead of a playable was really heartbreaking to see (but hey, I’m not complaining TOO much since I enjoy interacting with him in my free time in Training), and lastly, the fact that Cloud, and to high extent, Final Fantasy VII AND the FF franchise as a whole has LITTLE TO NO representation in this game whatsoever (again, I feel like this was more of SE’s fault than Sakurai’s). No spirits, no “Fighter Spirit” artwork from the original FFVII, no Assist characters, not being dubbed in English AGAIN (though this was more of a contract issue with SE), no additional music on Midgar, NOTHING. But, nonetheless…this game is fucking awesome.

Blazblue: Cross Tag Battle: Ahahahahaha! Ah…Oh, Blazblue…I love this franchise oh-so much, but the fact that it hasn’t received the same treatment as Guilty Gear lately (not to mention the mainstream Blazblue games, aka the C-series, has pretty much came to an end) is a rather sad sight to see…depression aside, I love Blazblue. I REALLY do! I love the characters, I love the stages, I love the music, the story is confusing as FUCK, but it’s a fighting game franchise I’ve discovered WAY back 2012 and I still love to this day, even more so than Guilty Gear (don’t @ me). So…what to do now? Could there perhaps be another Blazblue game? A game that just so happens to be a crossover? One just as awesome as Smash Bros? Ooh! How about…PERSONA 4?!? UNDER NIGHT IN-BIRTH?!? A FRANCHISE THAT, LIKE DRAGON BALL AND FFVII, I’VE HAD NO INTEREST IN UP UNTIL 2018 (aka RWBY)?!? AAAAAAAAAAAAAA- Fangasm aside, the fact that this game even EXISTS is an achievement in its own right. As stated before, this game is the reason how I got into RWBY. What I really love and adore about the game are the interactions among the characters. That, and I was SO HAPPY to hear that the game would be dubbed in English, after GG:Xrd Revelator and BB: Central Fiction lacked a dub. I was not only excited to hear the likes of Ragna, Noel, and Hazama voiced in English again, but I was also happy to hear that any characters who’ve never been dubbed in English in the past (characters from UNIB, newcomers in BB:CF, etc.) would be dubbed in English as well. Hell, the fact that the characters from both Blazblue AND Persona 4 (two franchises/games I really love) being in the EXACT same game together was enough to make me be all like “Shut up, and take my money!”, considering how crazy excited I was in the past to see them interacting with one another via fanart and fanfiction (thanks to the Persona 4 Arena games being developed by ArcSys). And if you thought having only THOSE four franchises in the game was enough, you’d be wrong! Here’s Arcana Heart! Here’s Senran Kagura! Here’s a FIFTH character from RWBY: Neo Politan! This game, much like DBFZ and Smash Ultimate, is awesome. However, complaints I do have towards the game are the Online Mode (although the chibi interactions are cute and adorable and I will praise the Online Mode for that, and ONLY THAT), Gordeau from UNIB is still a problem, the rest of the half of the roster is entirely DLC, lack of additional content upon release, the control scheme is WAY too simplistic (even moreso than DBFZ), and lastly, while I love the sprites ArcSys did for RWBY, the reused sprites from Blazblue, Persona 4 Arena, and UNIB is also a complaint I have (but a minor one, mind you. They could’ve just easily redone the sprites specifically for this game, but…no). And while this game isn’t exactly in my top two favorite fighting games, it’s definitely in my top THREE. Also, I have yet to actually to play the Story Mode of this game, but I haven’t yet, therefore, I hold no opinion on the story as of currently. Marvel vs Capcom-styled traditional fighting games are hands-down, my go-to preference for traditional fighters.

Dissidia (and Dissidia 012): Final Fantasy: Forget Dissidia NT, THIS game (mostly Dissidia 012) is what an awesome 3D Action Fighting game is about! Much like how Smash Ultimate’s a unique fighting game (a Platform Fighter), this game is also a unique type of fighting game, possessing RPG elements and just having a blast with its awesome combat system. Cloud and Sephiroth were just so much fun to play as, with Terra, Squall, and WoL being my other favorite characters in this awesome game. This game is also essentially a HUGE homage to Final Fantasy as whole. From the ongoing conflicts between Cosmos and Chaos, to MULTIPLE references to the character’s original games, to additional modes that involve unlocking the likes of Gilgamesh from FFV, or fighting against the most frustrating secret final boss I’ve ever had the displeasure of fighting against (Feral Chaos), these games are awesome! Also, the reason why I’m addressing both games as a single installment here is because technically, while Dissidia 012 IS a prequel, it pretty has the same content (no, scratch that, MORE content) from the first Dissidia game and it’s pretty much an updated…well, not a “port”, per say, more like an enhanced re-release, much like Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom 3 or any of the Blazblue EXTEND re-releases. However, complaints I have for Dissidia is that certain characters are annoying to fight against (such as Jecht, FUCK that character), the RPG system takes a while to build up until your favorite characters are FINALLY at Level 100, trying to get the rarest Equipment is rather difficult, and lastly, the action commands for certain character’s EX Bursts can be retooled for the sake of a proper fighting game, but then again, Dissidia ain’t a “traditional” fighting game. But aside from that, not only is this my favorite Action RPG/Fighting game of all time, but this is also my favorite Final Fantasy Spin-Off of all time.

Tatsunoko vs Capcom: Ultimate All-Stars: What’s that? You were expecting a Marvel vs Capcom game to be on this list, let alone my top 5? Too bad! It’s Tatsunoko, baby! This one definitely holds a spot in my heart as this game stands as my number one favorite “Capcom vs Whatever” game of all time (yes, even moreso than Marvel vs Capcom itself OR any of the SNK vs Capcom games, don’t @ me). I love this game. I love its soundtrack (ESPECIALLY its main theme, “Across the Border”), I love the roster (despite being small), I love the final boss of the Arcade Mode (Yami, from Capcom’s Okami), and I love the gameplay. My complaints goes towards the lack of additional content outside of Arcade and the Gallery (although the top-down shooter minigame is rather fun), and, as stated before, small roster. But other than that, this game was really fun to play.

OTHER FAVORITE FIGHTING GAMES:

Sonic Battle, Persona 4 Arena Ultimax, Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom 3, SvC: Chaos, and Blazblue: Chrono Phantasma.

Coming up next: My favorite RPGs/JPRGs!

[cuddliestbear]

Ffvx

Obeekays, so I love squarenix games, kingdom hearts and related games. I have NEVER played a final fantasy game, though.

Oh, my effing goodness!

FFVX is fantabulous, not only is it relatively easy, for experienced rpg players as well as newcomers but you don't have to know too much about precious Final Fantasy games or lore. I'm sure there are plenty of easter eggs for those who have played previous games or something that would tie into the story or even something to do with the monsters you fight. But, for a newcomer to final fantasy, it is not jarring or confusing because we haven't played anything previous.

The gameplay is smooth and the story is absolutely enthralling. Noctis is strong guy, badass in battle, but also soft at heart, he isn't as apathetic as he tries to be. Often he'll say things that make you think he dislikes the Crownsguard around him or is bothered by them, but he cares for them as if they were family. You get attached to these characters almost more than you would in a book or movie.

The cgi art is stunning, realistic to a point and breathtaking. From reflections, to movements to facial expressions, it's all on point. I only gripe about how Gladdy, Prom, and Iggy get in the way as you try to navigate Noct around. And that sometimes getting lost is pretty easy, but other than that its's fantastic. I also like the camping and saving process, how the characyers almost go kind of meta about it. Promto even comments on it, let's save our progress or camp for the night. The visuals and lighting effects make me giddy and the sight of the beasts you must battle are scary as they are thrilling.

Prompto is my favorite, hands down. He's goofy and fun loving but formidible in battle. He cares for his friends but has no issue bugging them(unintentionally) or taking unaware photos of them all(in battle too, somehow). He plays around loves Chocobos(which have always sounded more like a type of sweet rather than a giant bird to ride), and is freckly and adorable.

Gladiolus, the big macho tough man who is nothing more than a teddy bear with tattoos. He is a guard for the king, but also a real sweetie especially with his sister Iris. Another favorite of mine, though we don't get to see her as much as I'd like. His appearance screams the words "don't fuck with me", but he's not mean or hardhearted, he cares just as much for the others as they do for him and knows that it doesn't diminish in their opinion of him as a warrior.

Ignis, ah, that beautiful brainy chef boy. He is very analytical and so often doesn't seem to show a lot of feelings towards much, even in battle, when Noctis "dies" or runs completely out of health and you don't have mega pheonix or pheonix down, he bareky sounds like he's all that worried about it. But, he cares, oh boy he cares. He cares by being cautious and wanting Noctis safe from as much as he can keep him safe from. Ignis isn't touchy feely, I love everyone like Prom, but he is definitely as much of a softie as the rest of them. He is also a bomb ass chef and an excellent driver.

Luna, I haven't seen too much of her yet, but she appears wise beyond her years and very capable of herself. She doesn't give off that typical damsel vibe I get from a lot of main character love interests in games or books and most often seems as if she is determined to be strong for her people and her love Noctis. She is the Oracle, so of course she is wise, but that can't come without it's own share of hardships. You get the sense that she's seen and done a lot in her young life and know that even more is to come. Unlike many arranged marriages, Luna and Noct know each other very very well and like, (dare I say, love?) Each other well.

Just in general, the game is a blast, the characters are beautiful and unique and to top it off there is a very strong prevalent female character who seems unafraid of even the worst.

God I love this game. Anyone who has finished the game, please don't spoil it. I am at the spot where the leviathan thing happens, no spoilers please!