#it's because he was uncomfortable IN PUBLIC and probably something even darker given we know he has issues with sex

[forcebookish]

it's not lost on me that top shoves mew against a wall and tries to kiss him but when mew stops him he backs off in the same episode that boston shoves top against a wall and gropes him but doesn't stop when top tells him to stop

seems to be lost on a lot of other people though😒

[hellothere-generalangsty]

I HAD A BRAIN WAVE MOMENT

DO YOU REMEMBER WAYYYY BACK WHEN EVERYONE HATED ASOKA? DAVE DID THAT ON PURPOSE SO HE WAS IN CONTROL OF WHAT PEOPLE HATED ABOUT HER. OK NOW THIS MIGHT BE A LONGSHOT THAT HOPEFULLY DOESN’T END UP LIKE LONGSHOT THE CLONE, BUT, IM HOPING THATS WHATS DAVE IS DOING WITH TBB. BEING IN CONTROL OF WHAT THE FANDOM HATES ABOUT IT AND THEN IMPROVING IT SLOWLY BIT BY BIT.

PLEASE IM DESPERATE FOR A EXPLANATION!

(also where’s my explanation about why the clones are white washed, dave? hmm? where is it dave?)

OMG LOOK.

It wouldnt excuse the whitewashing or the weak scenario, because he got us used to some good stuff now (tcw s7, Mandalorian, that kind of things)

But it would make sense - to a certain extent - to work that season as a "cliché team in a cliché scenario" and see how people react to be able for a second season (if there's a second season) to improve it

_

Disclaimer: I'm a white, abled person so I'm not trying to speak on behalf of poc/disabled people, but I think it's important to support them and listen to the critics they make about SW and it's content

Also this is quite long I got carried away but worth it it is!

I linked some of @rebekadjarin 's post here because I read a bit through her blog today and agreed with her posts; and I invite you to check out the "#whitewhashed tbb" if you want more extanded and developed information about that matter! (As my knowledge on the matter is still quite limited/ incomplete due to my privileges, and this post is more of a summary than a real analysis)

_

So here, we know that the fans are unhappy about:

- the whitewashing of the Bad Batch (especially since they proved they could animate dark skinned people/ more generally poc with the first seasons of tcw, Kanan in Rebels and the Separatist in the latest TBB episode)

It is a real problem and it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Even if they are different, the Batchers are still clones and it's really not that hard to show their enhancement while keeping Temuera's features and skin colour (I mean, look at all the artists who did and do it everyday on this app; no excuse here)

Star Wars has wasted a lot of potential on numerous occasions because they keep doing stuff like this; and it's quite ironic (and very sad) to see that racism, ableism and stereotypes are prevalent in a universe where people fight for equality and peace...

Here and here are two posts about it (if you're the author of these posts and want me to delete them from my post please tell me so; I took the liberty of adding them because I think they highlight quite well the issue and do a clear job at showing the whitewashing in SW/ around the clones)

~

- the way Crosshair is treated; both by the Batchers and the writers, he's manipulated by the chip yet no one is talking about rescuing him and we see nothing about the effect of his absence on the Batchers (they don't mention him, don't try to save him, and Hunter is more distraught by Omega's absence than by his own brother's)

And don't get me wrong, Omega is a kid and she's nice, of course they have to take care of her and protect her

But they also don't know her purpose; why is she here? She could be a bad omen (maybe she doesn't even know it! The Kaminoans probably didn't tell anyone about her real purpose and I stand by the idea that the infos they got about her are all wrong and purposefully misleading) and I have the dark feeling that she will be the end/ death of the Batchers by the end of the serie, even if she didn't wanted it that way

But Crosshair is never mentionned, except for when he's needed in the scenario. Which is a shame, because he's a Batcher too even if he's mind-controlled and (for now) working for the Empire. He's supposed to be a main character, and he's a key element to the plot; yet out of 10 episodes we saw him in only 3, and only the moments where he was acting bad (i'm excluding the lonely moment at the end of ep2 because it had a lot of potential about him fighting the chip but that was all we had and i'm still bitter about it lol)

Here is a post about it

~

- speaking of plot; I feel like it's always the same disk playing since episode 2-3: They have a mission given by Cid, they do it, things go wrong, Omega saves the day and they get the money.

Crosshair is doing bad guy stuff so no need to tall about him (haha right?)

Now. I'm a good public. I know when to activate the Dummie™ in me and enjoy a show about a found family doing crazy jobs for a criminal and raising a newly adopted daughter at the same time. It's fun, it's sweet, sometimes it get emotional and the animation is beautiful (the lights are amazing I am always in awe)

I can enjoy it and be in awe and see Echo sniffing food and Tech smiles and Wrecker playing with Omega and feel happy about it.

But I also expected more. I hadn't any clear idea because I didn't wanted to set expectations (how ironic) but I can't help but feel sad about the wasted potential around Empire! Crosshair and the rise of said Empire.

If you want to antagonize one of the main character, do it, but do it fully and do it well. Show us Crosshair getting really invested in a plan to catch the Batchers and suddenly making a scene for a tiny detail that could blow it up; show us Crosshair and Hunter fighting each other hand to hand after they disarmed each other, and Crosshair getting the upoer hand until something holds him back; just enough for Hunter to take control again

Show us a complex character who suffers but doesn't fully realise it, and show us brothers mourning yet hoping to get the family back again you know?

~

- the way Echo is treated by the Batchers. And as much as it saddens me, they do him dirty in the show.

Echo is a war veteran, an ex- prisoner and a disabled character. He went through a lot; first he lost the Domino squad, then he lost brothers on Kamino (including 99 who was close to his squad), then the Citadel happened and he lost both his legs, an arm, his freedom, his brothers and probably any hope to be saved.

Then they found him in that freezer, and he probably realised that, if Fives wasn't here to save him, it meant he lost him too.

Then he left Rex to go with a team of 4 because he probably didn't feel like he belonged with "regs" anymore; he chose strangers over brothers because he thought he couldn't find his place there. Which in itself is sad and problematic.

And now he's with the Batchers, and they don't seem to grasp the importance of his trauma. I mean; they always had the 4 of them and never lost a brother (apart from Cross; which is another wasted potential here because they could have exploited that trauma and made a parallel with Echo being so used to losing brothers and them experiencing it for the first time on such a personal level you know) and they do some crappy stuff to him.

Selling him as a droid? Not cool.

Brushing off his trauma for a mission and some credits? Not. Cool.

And Echo can't say anything because he chose them, and now he has nowhere to go anyway because Order 66 happened; and he probably doesn't want to be a burden to Rex, and he probably doesn't want to abandon his brothers especially now that Cross is gone and they have a child to take care of

But yeah there are a lot of things happening - or NOT happening - around Echo and his trauma and his disability that are wrong and people are right to talk about it

Here is a post I read and I agree with it

~

- Overall, the way the show and the characters are handled; they often feel very stereotyped/ cliché and the basic plot doesn't really help for character development or improvement

I read a post about it and it was really interesting; they linked the whitewashing of the characters with their abilities/enhencement

Tech and Crosshair are the smartest and the whitest in the group (which is bad)

Wrecker is portrayed as the Bid Dummie™ and he's the one with the "darker" skin and the features closest to Temuera/ Maōri features (also very bad)

Hunter is straight up a Rambo with a face tattoo, and Echo - and you guys know I love him - is whiter than a sheet of paper (all so bad)

Not only this, but there is no improvement in their personality or thinking

They don't seem to evolve, and just like their mission, they end up playing the same song over and over again

Hunter is the broody soldier and though people enjoy talking to him as a Dad (count me in) but he's not a good dad for Omega (he calls her soldier and is always acting awkward and uncomfortable around her)

Wrecker could be a better dad for her; but again they display him as a big dummie and give the impression he couldn't take well care of her

Tech is here to be the smart one, we only see him when they need someone to do the smart speaking and the complicated computer things

Echo is the grumpy reg, the "more droid than man" and sometimes the Mom™ but they never show him talking about the Empire or the trauma or how the I am not Freaking Out™ I did came back for this Shit™ he's just here to... Be here and be grumpy and bring the oldest clone wars fans to watch TBB

And Crosshair is almost non-existent.

Here is another post about it

~

What could it be then?

So either Dave is pulling a Ahsoka on us; but he'll still have a lot of things to correct and explanations to give because I can excuse a bad plot but I draw the line at blatant racism ans ableism (especially when they KNOW the fans and they KNOW what people want and they KNOW it would probably bring more people to enjoy and get invested in the show)

- If he's doing this, he will probably work with the animator to correct the whitewashing (because it really is the only really wrong thing in the animation, the rest of it is quite good to be honest like the light, framing and all)

- Understand that Tbb and Mandalorian are two different shows and cannot be treated the sale way; so he'll get back to the main plot and hopefully work on Crosshair's arc and hos his absence/ him being controlled by the chip affects him/ the Batchers/ their relation

- He'll probably work more on displaying the effect of their trauma; collective and personal, and see how it reflects on their relations (and give Echo the healing he deserves)

- By extension, give the characters more depth and complexity, dig their stereotypical surface and reveal their true nature (show me a ruthless yet easily overwhelmed Hunter; a smart but constantly anxious Tech, a very emotional Wrecker playing the big explosive dummie to protect himself, etc.)

Well, that's what I would do

Or he's just... Doing this and not planning any changes; in which case I'll probably do what I did with SPN s15: stop watching, scroll through tumblr to get some infos and gifs and tell everyone about how dirty they did the characters, and they did us.

~

But I really hope he's hearing us and taking our remarks into account; the show in itself had a lot of potential and I'm still hanging on the thin hope that the ending could "save it"; but I also have no expectations and am in fact waiting for a disappointing ending

On a brighter note, I'm glad the fandom exists because I see artists and writers and gif-makers and theorists and all kind of people creating and sharing their own content, headcanons, art, writing and they all feel right and better than the canon

Like yes, give me a in-character dark skinned clone who deals with his trauma and the sudden changes around him in a realistic way

Tell me about the real effects of the war on soldiers, and the truth behind the corrupted government taking over the galaxy, and the efforts everyone has to make to survive, exist and live together

If Dave and his team cannot do it, I know you guys can and that's why I'm glad to be here too; you give me hope when they fail to do so 💙

~

I hope I like... Answered this correctly? 😂 I got carried away but yeah, though I'm usually not vocal about it and try to enjoy it with my Dummie Energy™ I still see and read about what you all think, and usually I agree with you; the show deserved better and we deserved better

Now back to ignoring the canon and writing a fic about my very much alive and beloved Fives 🥰

[theotpauthor]

Hi! This is my gift for @kbaycolt for the @tma-valentines-exchange this year! You requested JonSasha and I hope you like it! 

“Jon!” a voice called, making him startle. He put down the can of soup he had been looking at and glanced down the aisle.

“I didn’t know you went to this grocery store,” his boss, Sasha, said happily. She was tugging along one of those hand held baskets, packed with some fruits and veggies.

“It’s the closest to my apartment,” Jon replied, “so it’s convenient. I thought you lived further out though?”

“I do,” she admitted easily, “but the produce section in my normal grocers is complete garbage. Half of the time they’re only a couple days from rotting.”

“Unpleasant.”

“Indeed. Especially after that last batch of statements. But while you’re here—would you mind staying after hours tomorrow? I have a non-work related favor to ask, but it’ll take a bit of time to explain and we both look a bit busy at the moment.”

“Ah—” If it was anyone else Jon would have said no easily, or at least fumbled his way through an excuse, but this was his boss, and (though she hadn’t meant any cruelty by it) one of their first conversations had been her laying out, quite explicitly, his complete lack of credentials for his job. That was six months ago, and they had both grown closer as a unit in the archives, but he still felt an underlying need to prove that he was worthy of his job. He desperately wanted her to think he was competent, and refusing to help her was just another way of saying he wasn’t capable of doing so. “Of course.”

“Thank you!” Sasha said with a grin. “I know this is a little out of nowhere, but it’s nothing too bad, I promise. I’ve gotta run now, but I’ll see you on Monday!”

. . . o0o . . .

“You wanted to see me?” Jon said, peering into Sasha’s office. He tapped his fingers together at his side and hope she didn’t notice; he still wasn’t sure what the issue was and his nerves had steadily increased since their meeting at the supermarket.

“Ah, yes,” Sasha nodded. “Here, come in, sit down.” He did. “Well, easiest to tear the bandaid off quickly I suppose. Will you pretend to date me so Tim gives up on me?”

This was—not what Jon had been expecting. He hadn’t really had set expectations in the first place, besides something probably professional, and this was far from that.

“Has Tim been . . . making you uncomfortable?” Jon asked, eyebrows crinkled in confusion and a hint of worry, but Sasha was shaking her head before he got the chance to finish.

“Oh no, nothing like that. Tim is a good guy. He’s just . . . the type to hold out hope, you know? We had a brief fling and he keeps trying to make it more. And the only way to get him to move on genuinely instead of pretending is to convince him that there’s no use waiting for me to change my mind.”

“Huh,” Jon said speculatively. “He hadn’t struck me as particularly romantic. At least, not in that way.”

“So, will you do it?”

Jon hesitated. He remembered working with Tim before, and though Jon had acted as prickly as ever, it had never seemed to bother him. They hadn’t quite gotten to a level that Jon would call friends, but they had been getting there before Jon’s transfer to Archives.

“Won’t this hurt him? Wouldn’t it be better to wait until you’re actually in a relationship?”

“Ideally, but I don’t want him to be pining over me for who knows how long before I find my person. He’s my friend, and I don’t want him to miss out on someone because he was too busy wanting something that will never happen.”

“. . . And as for hurting him?”

“A necessary evil.” Sasha pursed her lips. She had known Jon and Tim were friends, but she hadn’t been sure how deep the bond had been on Jon’s end. She still wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt her scheme. “Look, I don’t like it either. But he’s going to get hurt at some point, and I’d rather have it be short and—well, not sweet really—than long and drawn out. This’ll be better in the long run.” She stared at Jon, and wiped her hands nervously on her pants. “Will you do it? I know this might be a bit weird since I’m your boss but—”

“I—no, I’ll—I’ll do it. But we’re going to need to work out the logistics. I mean, Tim knows both of us. We can’t just be dating out of nowhere.”

Sasha grinned, relief flooding over her. Her teeth shone.

“I’ve already made a plan. You could come over my place so we could talk about it? Figured it’d be better to discuss it here than in a more public place.”

. . .

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Jon said, blinking slightly. In front of him were various papers, all tacked up onto a corkscrew board, describing different versions of how they could have started dating, their various dates, and more. It might have been creepy, except for the fact that Sasha was a constant overplanner, and he was somewhat surprised she hadn’t simply told him a backstory she had created.

“I was trying to find something realistic that still wouldn’t hurt Tim too badly,” Sasha admitted, chewing on her lip as she glanced over the various papers. Jon noticed for the first time that her concealer had slipped, and she had bags under her eyes.

“Are his feelings that strong?”

“It’s not that they’re strong,” Sasha said slowly, trying to think of how to say it. “It’s that they’re constant. Tim acts flippant but once he cares about people, it’s very hard for him to stop.”

That hadn’t been the impression that Jon had gotten, but Jon had only known him for a couple months before his transfer, and Sasha had known him since university, so he was willing to assume she knew better in this case.

“That aside,” Sasha said, “I say we figure out the most awkward part first and get it out of the way. When did we first have sex?”

“We didn’t,” Jon said dryly. “I’m asexual, and not particularly prone to PDA either.”

Sasha paused for a moment, readjusting her plans with the new information.

“Well, we still need to act comfortable around each other. We don’t need to go making out in back corners of a club or anything, but couples usually have an ease around each other.” She smiled over at him, teasing. “Unless hand holding is too scandalous?”

“Haha,” Jon rolled his eyes. “No, that’s—fine. I know I’m agreeing to this, but I just didn’t want you to think that—er, that is, I—”

“Jon,” Sasha cut in gently. She thought of placing her hand on his knee before thinking better of it. “Even if we were dating, no string attached, I would never make you do something you didn’t want to. Sure, I like hooking up with people, but in the list of things I couldn’t live without, sex doesn’t even reach the top twenty.”

“Oh.” Jon’s face went pink. He coughed. “Ah, well, right then. Glad that’s sorted.”

“Yes, though we definitely need to discuss more about how we started dating . . . “

. . .

Jon looked at the address Sasha had texted him again, checking for the countless time that it was right. Tim was throwing a small house party, and he was Sasha’s date. He had offered to pick her up, but Sasha hadn’t even given the idea a thought before saying no.

“It’s quicker for both of us if we just meet there,” she had said over the phone. Jon wasn’t much of a talker, but Sasha had insisted on using phones rather than texts that anyone could read later. “and I would that to anyone I was dating too. Actually caused some issues in the past, but I never got what the difference between ten minutes was.”

So Jon was in front of Tim’s house by himself, and trying to convince himself that walking up to the door and knocking was not nearly as hard as it felt. It was only when he started considering waiting for Sasha outside that he pushed himself out of it and forced his legs to move.

“Hey Jo—woah,” Tim said as he opened the door, face going slack in surprise before his grin was back, “I’ve never seen you in casual clothes. Feels like I’m breaking the law.”

“Haha,” Jon said, rolling his eyes. He glanced down at his clothes—he had the foresight to stay away from his old college clothes, but honestly his outfit wasn’t much. Just an old t-shirt from a band he used to follow and a pair of jeans. Sasha had warned him not to be too formal, and he had tried to follow that advice. “I do, actually, have a life outside of work.”

He didn’t, really, but Tim didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Tim said. “Casual looks good on you. Come in.”

After a couple minutes of small talk and being introduced to Tim’s friends, he found himself sitting on the couch next to Tim.

“So you and Sasha, huh?”

Jon felt his cheeks warm and was glad his darker skin made it hard for people to tell. If he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have known Tim had feelings for her at all.

“If you’re going to interrogate him, you could at least wait until I’m here,” Sasha cut in, and Jon felt himself relax. He wasn’t good at lying, and her easy grin made the whole farce seem more believable.

“What’s the fun in that?” Tim shot back, laughing. “And did you pick the lock? I don’t remember you knocking.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sasha grinned.

“Hellion,” Tim said. “A complete and utter hellion.” He turned to Jon, whispering in a way that was meant to be heard. “Run away before you have to change all your locks.”

“Leave my boyfriend alone,” Sasha rolled her eyes.

“. . . I don’t see how changing locks would do anything if she can pick them?” Jon replied honestly, trying to wrap his head around the logistics of it. His blunt, honest tone made the other two laugh, which hadn’t been his intention, but was workable.

“So you two are official then? I have to say that I am betrayed that neither of you told me earlier.” His words were overly dramatic, as was the way he threw his hand over his heart, but Jon had a feeling there was a kernel of truth in them.

“We didn’t want to tell anyone. I’m his boss, and his transfer was so sudden that we didn’t want people to think the wrong thing.”

Sasha and Tim talked a bit longer, with Jon occasionally chiming in. It was obvious that the two had known each other for a long time; there was an ease in their teasing and back and forth that was almost enviable. It was easy to see why Tim’s feelings hadn’t faded before.

Eventually Tim was called away by a different one of his friends, leaving Sasha and Jon alone.

Sasha’s shoulders relaxed, and suddenly Jon felt guilty for not doing more in their little ruse. He should have put more effort in—but he couldn’t exactly apologize with people still around, so he pushed it down and made a note to apologize later.

“God,” Sasha muttered, “this would be so much easier if he realized how Martin looked at him.”

“Martin?” Jon asked, and she startled.

“Yes,” she said recovering, “the poor bastard is completely besotted, but turned Tim down for a hookup, and in Tim’s mind that means he could never be interested in a date either.”

“Ah,” Jon said, seemingly confused.

“Martin is romantic,” Sasha explained, “but Tim has never been in a relationship that hasn’t started off as purely sexual. But if they got past that hurdle I think they’d actually be a cute couple.”

“If Tim is a fan of constantly having stray animals in his house, then that’s his taste I suppose. Don’t get it myself.”

Sasha snorted.

“Martin apologized how many times about letting that dog in?”

“Not enough.”

“You know, he’s not that bad of a person. You might like him if you gave him a chance.”

“Doubtful,” Jon said dryly. “But we aren’t in the same department, so small mercies I suppose.”

“Ah yes, god forbid you have to work with anything less than complete competence.”

“Well, you’ve set the bar rather high,” Jon responded, the complete honesty in his voice making her blink, pleased. She was more used to teasing back and forth, but there was something nice about not feeling like she was in a competition.

Other people milled about, and they had various conversations with people that Jon immediately had forgotten the names of. At one point, drawing came up, and Jon went into a tirade about the evolution of crayons and other drawing materials as if he had a degree in it. There was a slight crinkle in between his brows, and his hands moved as he talked—different from the usual stiff, purposefully scowling persona he carried at work. Sasha stared, surprised.

Then she smiled, not thinking about it as she reached out and held his hand. He paused, seemingly only half aware of it. He glace at their hands, eyes lighting up slightly, before continuing, this time only gesturing with one hand, though she felt the other twitch in her hands at times.

. . .

The next Monday at work, the atmosphere was not awkward the way Jon had feared. It was incredibly easy to go back into the familiar patterns of researching statements that were patently fake. He had yet to find a single one that was true. Sasha felt the same way but said that this was as good a job as any other, and he agreed.

Once they both clocked out, Sasha asked Jon if they could talk.

“Did Tim believe it?” Jon asked. She nodded.

“You might not believe it, but he doesn’t normally drink quite that much. But I saw Martin watching over him and making sure he was alright, so I think he’ll be okay.”

“That’s good,” Jon said. There was a pause. “I know that you said it would just be one date, but I was thinking—” He stopped, knowing what he wanted to say but unsure of how to.

“Ah, well,” Sasha hadn’t expected to say this, had thought it would be a one and done sort of deal, but before she can think her words through, she adds, “It might be suspicious if we’re only together once. Tim might think that it’s just—just a fling.”

“Of course,” Jon said just a second too quickly. “Tim isn’t dumb, if we go back to acting as friends, he’ll realize something was up.”

“We’ll have to continue,” Sasha said in relief. “So he believes it.”

“So he believes it,” Jon echoed, and they shared a happy smile.

“He invited me to drinks this weekend with some friends if—”

“I’ll be there.” Jon stopped, flushing slightly as he backtracked. “Ah, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Don’t worry about it. So it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Is the ask box still open? May I ask for Hot Rod/Soundwave content?? Please and Thankyou ❤️❤️

I got your other message not to worry

Some spicy Cyberverse Soundrod coming right up

Additional content: public sex, possessive themes, mild masochism, wall sex

Of course he just had to get a darker paint job. It’s because he’s been through a lot, because he needed a change, Soundwave knows this but can’t help the ideas and connections his processor makes with the black paint and scorching flames glaring in his vision. It’s loud and still undeniably vibrant much like Hot Rod himself but now there’s new context and a deeper meaning. There’s a need, a claim for power that’s so Decepticon but Soundwave knows that he can’t mention that, it’s not what Hot Rod had intended. Even so, it makes Soundwave feel that Hot Rod had somehow become more… obtainable. It’s a ridiculous notion for sure even with the tentative truce that’s formed that he could spend some more time with the Autobot, that he could ask Hot Rod out for fuel, that he could run his hands over his dark plates, that he could push Hot Rod up against a wall… Soundwave shakes his helm and regains focus on the mechs in front of him. Hot Rod had been talking to Bumblebee about something from their past, a race or that’s what they had been talking about when Soundwave had spaced out, ogling Hot Rod’s paint job. Bumblebee leaves, called to another task by comm with only Hot Rod and Soundwave standing in the corridor.

Soundwave tries to think of something to say but Hot Rod beats him to it, “Heh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bore you…”

He rubs the back of his helm a little bashfully as though he was actually embarrassed, he probably was. Soundwave knows that his rather… placid body language comes off as unimpressed at best and intimidating at worst but that’s not at all how he wants Hot Rod to feel. A faint buzzing, foreign and insistent, hums in Soundwave’s lines.

“Admittedly racing isn’t one of my own interests.” Soundwave rolls his shoulders and tosses his helm back in an attempt to be casual but it comes off more smug than anything, “However, you seemed to enjoy it. I’m sure it’s different for those with racing frames.”

“Yeah…” Hot Rod looks off to the side, his smile going crooked with amusement then he returns his optics to Soundwave, “So, where were you?” When Soundwave narrows the light of his visor at him, he taps Soundwave’s helm, “I mean what were you thinking about?”

Soundwave catches Hot Rod servo in a gentle but firm grip and moves it from his helm but doesn’t let go.

“Your paint job,” Soundwave admits, not seeing any harm in divulging that much.

This has an unexpected effect on Hot Rod, he tenses and his servo flexes in Soundwave’s and his smile disappears making Soundwave’s spark shift uncomfortably in his chest.

“Is it that bad?” Hot Rod mutters off to the side, “I know it was kind of a dramatic change but I thought it looked cool…”

In a surge of trepidation, Soundwave grabs Hot Rod by the shoulders and steps forward to get closer only to set Hot Rod off balance so he stumbles back into the wall. Hot Rod makes a sound of surprise and grabs Soundwave’s arms to stabilize himself, looking at Soundwave when he’s against the wall. He stalls, staring at that red visor and knowing now, with experience, that Soundwave only has two settings: perfectly calm or completely dramatic that Soundwave doesn’t mean to hurt him. The intensity is still surprising. It’s just a paint job after all, there’s no need to worry too much about it. He could just change it if it looks bad. However, with the way Soundwave’s servos sliding over his armor, passing over his shoulders to settle on his arms, Hot Rod doesn’t think that’s the issue.

“Quite the opposite,” Soundwave assures him in a low tone Hot Rod’s never heard from him before.

Hot Rod swallows to hold back that cheeky smile threatening to break on his face. There was no mistaking the way Soundwave is looking at him now or the way his servos flex now that they’re actually on Hot Rod making a bubble of excitement burst in Hot Rod’s spark. Now that he knows what’s up, there’s no way he was going to let Soundwave off the hook so, he might as well play it up. Hot Rod turns his helm to the side, feigning dejection in a way that exposed his neck cables to Soundwave.

“Come on, it’s okay.” Hot Rod shrugs and smiles coyly, “I know the flames aren’t to everybody’s taste…”

Soundwave leans in closer, taking the bait only to stop short and clear his intake much to Hot Rod’s disappointment.

“I think they suit you,” Soundwave mumbles low, his course voice lowering to a soft growl.

“Glad you think so.” Hot Rod doesn’t hide his cheeky grin this time and pulls Soundwave closer.

Soundwave feels the brush of Hot Rod’s faceplate’s against his and runs his hands unconsciously over Hot Rod’s chest along the flame decals and sucks in air through his vents that’s shockingly cool in comparison to the warm frame under his fingers. Then, he presses his faceplate against Hot Rod’s neck with a static kiss as he trails his hands to Hot Rod’s hips. Hot Rod pulls Soundwave fully against him, pressing them together so he can feel the rapidly increasing pulse of Soundwave’s spark in his own chest. With another sharp invent, Soundwave feels Hot Rod’s cables between his seams and runs a finger over a hot fuel line getting Hot Rod to gasp. It’s such a lovely sound that Soundwave searches for every spot on Hot Rod’s frame that gets him to gasp and moan softly, tugging on seams and pressing his face against the fuel line at Hot Rod’s neck to send energy coursing through his lines. Hot Rod chuckles but it’s quickly cut off with another moan as Soundwave digs into his hips.

“You know if you like my paint job so much…” Hot Rod trails of as Soundwave peppers more static kisses over the plating around his collar then regains his voice, “How about we get some transferred onto you?”

Soundwave stills and pulls back to look at Hot Rod who’s now completely flushed, running hot and panting softly with his hands still rubbing along Hot Rod’s hips, his thumbs catching the edges of Hot Rod’s array. Hot Rod shrugs, his smile faltering as he loses some confidence but that’s quickly remedied by Soundwave hooking his hands under Hot Rod’s thighs and lifting him. With his hips between Hot Rod’s thighs, Soundwave grinds against him, his codpiece catching against Hot Rod’s, the heat between them increasing as charge transfers between them.

Soundwave presses his face against Hot Rod’s audial and growls, “Open for me.”

Hot Rod wraps his legs around Soundwave’s hips and obeys, his spike pressurizing between them and valve cover sliding free. Soundwave grinds against Hot Rod’s spike, the hot, flexible cabling rubbing easily against his pelvic plating, already slick with pre-fluid. Letting himself pressurize, Soundwave grunts as his spike brushes against Hot Rod’s and moans into Hot Rod’s audial as Hot Rod takes both of their spikes in one hand. Soundwave hisses as the ridges of their spikes catch with every thrust as Hot Rod squeezes down harder and harder, his vents going ragged as his cooling fans turn up to full. Gently, he moves Hot Rod’s hand away and shifts their position so his spike is pressed up against Hot Rod’s valve. Hot Rod tugs at Soundwave’s helm and moves him so that their helms are pressed together as Soundwave slides his spike between Hot Rod’s folds. Scratching the paint of Soundwave’s shoulders, Hot Rod drags his fingers down Soundwave’s back as the ridges of his spike catch Hot Rod’s node and tease his entrance. Thick lubricant covers Soundwave’s spike and starts to run down Hot Rod’s thighs.

“I want you inside me already,” Hot Rod pleads, his hips following every pass of Soundwave’s spike, “Take me, claim me.”

Soundwave grunts and grips Hot Rod’s hips in a harsh grip that makes Hot Rod yelp and cling to Soundwave.

“Careful, Hot Rod,” Soundwave growls a low warning in Hot Rod’s audial, “We Decepticons can be rather possessive when given the chance.”

Hot Rod moans and nods, pressing kisses against Soundwave’s helm and says, “Well, maybe sometimes we Autobots like to be possessed.”

Delight floods Soundwave’s spark and he pushes into Hot Rod who pulls in Soundwave as much as he can with his legs, a delightful burn forming in his valve as Soundwave’s spike stretches him open.

“All the way,” Hot Rod moans, “I want you all the way now.”

“I don’t want to hurt-”

Hot Rod cuts him off, “I want it.”

Soundwave hesitates for a moment before hilting himself into Hot Rod fully, groaning at the feeling of Hot Rod’s hot valve around his spike. Hot Rod gasps and moans at the burn his valve that fades away as Shockwave rocks into him, grinding the head of his spike against the entrance to Hot Rod’s gestation tank. When Hot Rod nods, Soundwave thrusts slow and hard into him, his hips rubbing harshly against Hot Rod’s thighs. The thought of having dark, black marks on his blue plating to show everyone what he’d done forms in his mind and drives him to thrust harder into Hot Rod, his valve making obscene noises with every thrusts as their plates scrape roughly against each other. The sharp pain from the scrapes make Hot Rod gasp and he can feel his valve tighten around Soundwave’s spike, every sharp peak of pain mixing with the pleasure and driving Hot Rod closer to the edge. Soundwave had Hot Rod in his hands, his valve around his spike as he made the sweetest sounds pushing Soundwave closer to the edge.

“Hey S- whoa!” a voice stops Soundwave cold and he looks to see Acidstorm in the hall they’re in, frozen in shock.

“Leave,” Soundwave orders, his voice dark with rage and Acidstorm goes racing down the hall.

Hot Rod can feel his spark jump in his chest with fear and embarrassment at the sight of Acidstorm’s retreating form the memory that they’re still in the hallway hitting him like a block of ice. Seeming to not care they were seen, Soundwave starts thrusting into him again hard and Hot Rod nearly forgets everything.

“We should-” Hot Rod gasps and moans as Soundwave presses another static kiss to his neck, “We should go somewhere more private.”

“Any Decepticon that sees us will know better than to interfere,” Soundwave doesn’t slow down as he pants in Hot Rod’s audial, “Any Autobot that sees us will have to deal with me.”

Hot Rod thinks of one of his friends seeing him like this with Soundwave’s spike in him while he’s pinned against a wall and instead of shame he feels his charge build. He shakes it from his processor and focuses on the mech in front of him, looking down to see black streaks on Soundwave’s thighs. Leaning in, he bites Soundwave’s neck, groaning deep in his chest and gasps as hot transfluid floods his valve, spilling into his tank. Soundwave doesn’t slow down, transfluid and lubricant streaming from Hot Rod’s valve until Hot Rod cries out, his hips spasming on Soundwave’s spike as his valve flutters around it, trying to get every bit of transfluid as it can. Hot Rod falls limp in Soundwave’s arms, gasping and panting, and makes a soft noise when he feels himself be removed from the wall and carried down the corridor. In his temporary room, Soundwave sets Hot Rod down on the berth and finally pulls out of him then fetches a cloth to wipe them both down before crawling into the berth alongside Hot Rod.

He pulls Hot Rod into his arms and holds him tightly to his chest, venting in slowly, delighting in how perfectly Hot Rod fits in his arms and places a static kiss against Hot Rod’s helm. A few moments pass and Hot Rod feels recovered enough to stand so he begins to get up only to be pulled back down by Soundwave.

“I told you,” Soundwave whispers, “We Decepticons can be rather possessive when given the opportunity. I don’t just want a quick frag, Hot Rod. I will make you my mate and one of the most revered mechs in the optics of the Decepticons.”

Hot Rod’s optics go wide and he hides his face in Soundwave’s chest, “Isn’t that a bit fast?”

Soundwave hums and rubs Hot Rod’s back to soothe him, “If you don’t want this, you’re welcome to refuse…”

Hot Rod knows Soundwave enough now to detect the inconsistencies in his voice to know at least his general mood and right now he’s upset but Hot Rod knows he means it. He means it but doesn’t want it. Hot Rod snuggles in close to Soundwave and shakes his helm.

“I could try it out…” Hot Rod shrugs, “See how things go.”

Soundwave’s engine turns over so fast it startles Hot Rod but the heavy rumbles of Soundwave’s engine quickly calm him and he smiles to himself as Soundwave clings to him. His smile falters only a little as he rubs his plating over his gestation tank well aware of what might happen now.

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 205: High Hopes

Emma sighed, as she looked out over the water and became lost in thought, absorbing everything that had happened. Despite knowing that everything her father did was for them, she was relieved to know that he had not really killed anyone. She knew him, both halves of him. She knew his lighter half would be horrified and would have struggled to live with such, even with her mother's love. And his darker half...she could see the strain was weighing on him heavily as well. Her father's darker half wasn't really evil, though he was much more willing to commit evil acts in the name of protecting those he loved.

Seth, however, was the real deal. He was a rare occurrence that had literally been born evil. He was without empathy completely and found delight in carnage on a daily basis. Her father had capitalized on that by using the chalice to give him spectacular fights and flashy executions to entertain him. But she wondered how much longer that would sustain a monster like him. If he demanded to see real blood and carnage, she wondered if even the so called evil half of her father had it in him to slaughter innocents. But she knew Arthur had no such conscience anymore and neither did Gawain. They could please the dark Lord with their savagery and if her father fell out of favor, she feared what Mephisto might try to do to her parents.

"We'll find them, love," Killian called from the wheel and she sighed, as she joined him there. She leaned her head against his arm and he kissed her hair.

"I know...we just need to find a way to interject ourselves into their lives in a plausible way. I mean...just showing up at their door isn't going to be the best strategy," she mentioned.

"Well...you have a law enforcement background," he said. She winced.

"In Storybrooke...that isn't exactly going to work out here. Plus, I mention Storybrooke, Maine and they run it through a government database and the debacle in Seattle will probably come up," she replied. He looked confused.

"It will?" he asked. He was still foggy about how all that worked, thanks to not waking up until the curse was broken and they had been in a rush to get through the portal. He remembered the National guard trying to get through Summer's shield, but had never given it much thought.

"Oh yeah...and the only reason I know this is because Doc and Happy are fascinated with all the conspiracy stuff. They listen to all those crazy podcasts and YouTube videos that people have made about that day. Apparently, the government has pretty much classified all the information about that day," she said.

"Yeah...I'm still not sure I know what that means," he replied.

"It means basically that they know more about that day than they're willing to tell the public and the official story they released is mostly crap," she explained.

"But...the public saw a lot of barking mad stuff that day," he said.

"Which is why there is so many people out there fascinated by it and the conspiracies are rampant," she replied, as she got an odd thought.

"Come to think of it...it's kind of weird that no one has recognized my parents from that day," she mentioned. He nodded.

"Yeah...they were in the tabloids a lot leading right up to that day and at the center of the whole thing. I'm sure the videos are still out there," he said.

"Yeah...but my Dad is working for the FBI now, according to Gold," she replied.

"So...you think they know?" he asked.

"They would have to," she replied.

"Then that would mean they are letting him work for them for a reason and they would have to be aware that he has no memory of Seattle," he deduced.

"Which means someone high up thinks they can use him for something," Emma said.

"Do you think they might try to use your Dad to get to Storybrooke?" he asked.

"Storybrooke...the United Realms...the God damn chalice...who knows," she exclaimed with worry.

"My Dad could be in some real danger...I don't trust those government creeps at all," she said.

"We'll find them, love," he assured.

"Yeah...there might be a couple people in the FBI we can trust though. They might know something or they could at least do some digging for us," Emma said.

"Angela and Nick?" he recalled the two agents that had been drawn into their world for a brief time.

"It's worth a shot," Emma said, as she dialed a number and hoped the agents had not changed their phone numbers in the last few years.

~*~

The girl fidgeted uncomfortably and tried to conceal her shaking hands, as she met the professor behind her dorm. This one was well on her way into withdraws and was easy to tempt when he promised her a hit.

"So...what kind of drug is this?" she asked nervously, as she kept looking around in paranoia.

"It's something new...but I guarantee you'll get the high you seek," Dr. Jenkins stated. If the girl had been in her right mind, she might have questioned the motives of a professor that was giving drugs to students, but for her, all she could think about was satiated her habit.

"A needle? I like pills," she mentioned.

"I don't have pills, but this will go into your system almost immediately. The effects are almost instantaneous," he promised and smirked knowingly when she offered her arm. He shot her up with his concoction and stepped back, praying that this was the right formula.

The thoughts in his head were so loud now that he hadn't slept a wink. He couldn't get her out of his head and all the things he wanted to do with her. He was convinced that she belonged at his side and he fantasized about her husband meeting some horrible end almost as much as he was thinking about being in bed with her. If he could just reign in his dark thoughts with this drug, he knew he'd be more stable and could finally tell her how he felt and convince her that they belonged together.

The poor girl began to convulse and scream at the top of her lungs, as she held her head in agony.

"What...what's happening to me?!" she cried out. He looked hopeful, as she seemingly started to phase, but as good as it seemed to be going, it quickly dissolved into horror, as the poor young woman began to convulse and vomit blood. She collapsed into her own pool of blood and began seizing, until her heart gave out and she expired.

The doctor angrily kicked the wall. He had been very careful and thanks to the chill in the fall air, he was wearing gloves. He concealed the dirty syringe in his pocket and quickly left the area. He was careful to make sure they were in an area just outside campus cameras. Another failure and another body. He was fairly certain that he could stay ahead of the cops, but the darkness in his mind was growing stronger and making him more erratic. He needed to find where he was going wrong with his serum, so it was back to his lab. He couldn't sleep anyway, so he would once again work through the night.

~*~

As he kissed her deeply, as per usual, she lost herself in him and only him. His fear for her and them all was tangible and that had translated to the impassioned and insatiable lovemaking that they had been engaged in now for hours into the night. Winter was beside herself in pleasure, as her husband made love to her with desperate passion. Finally, after hours of pursuing completeness and satiating their hunger for each other, they lay entwined beneath the bedclothes in their chambers, with Winter idly tracing the lines of definition on his torso

"My love…" she finally said.

"He put his hands on you…" he growled.

"But I am fine...thanks to you," she reminded him. But he shook his head.

"I should have immediately sensed you were in danger," he lamented.

"You have been preoccupied and your duties weigh heavily on you. I know this," she said.

"I didn't feel the danger to you right away...that's never happened," he admitted.

"My love...the incredible pressure you are under is crushing and you felt it the moment you stepped through the portal. You found me before he could truly hurt me," she insisted.

"Not before he struck you...I cannot live with that if it happens again. Next time...he could hurt you badly and I would rather die than let that happen," he said fiercely.

"You are being much too hard on yourself," she chided, as she kissed his lips tenderly. He sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, taking solace in her kiss and her touch.

"You are everything to me, my darling...I cannot lose you," he said.

"And you will not. I fear for you too, my love. I fear what Seth may do to you if we are discovered," she replied.

"Then we must prepare for the worst. If Emma does not return before he does, then you must promise me you will take Hope through the portal at a moment's notice," he said.

"Not without you," she replied.

"You must, my darling…" he insisted and she closed her eyes, hating everything about this.

"I promise...but I will not need to. Emma and Killian will soon return and then we will end that monster," she said, as he held her close. He could only hope she was right.

~*~

"Wow...that's some story and a bit out there. And that's coming from someone that runs one of the most trafficked conspiracy podcasts on the net," the man said, as he had coffee with the young FBI analyst at a coffee kiosk just outside the Boston FBI headquarters.

"I know what it sounds like, but I'm telling you that it's him," Trevor insisted, as he showed the man that was behind the Conspiracies Unearthed podcast on the Internet.

"That does look like him though...but he hasn't changed at all," the podcaster said.

"Doesn't that play into all the theories out there?" Trevor asked.

"Sure does...and you said he acts like he has no memory of living in Seattle?" he questioned.

"Yeah, but it's a pretty good act. I really don't think he remembers," Trevor said. But the man looked skeptical.

"He's an FBI agent...he's trained to lie his way out of anything," he said.

"Fair point...but this is a pic of his desk. Zoom in on the family photo," Trevor replied, as he showed him.

"Damn...that's her too and the kids. They actually look older too," he said, as he compared the photo to the video from Seattle seven years ago.

"It's definitely compelling...and I can use it, but more proof would be nice. Can you get anything else? Like a file or something?" the pseudo journalist asked.

"I'll try...but I can't get you his file. I'd get fired for that," Trevor replied.

"Listen kid...do you want to work for the system that hides this stuff from us forever or do you want to blow the coverup wide open on this thing?" the man asked. Trevor was silent for a moment.

"I'll see what I can get," he said, making no promises, before hurrying into work.

~*~

David stepped off the elevator that morning, with coffee in hand, ready for another day of painstakingly going through files of their potential suspect pool. It was frustrating, because he knew that if their unknown subject was devolving that it would not be long until they had another body.

"Hey...it's super agent," one of his co-workers called out. He sighed, but took the razzing in stride. He knew it was in good humor, but he was well aware that he didn't exactly fit in with some of the other agents his age in this division. A lot of them hung out after work together, despite some of them having families. But he always declined. Not because he didn't like them, but he just never had the desire to spend even more time away from his own family.

"Are you ever not going to call me that?" David asked.

"Maybe when you don't solve a case. Seriously...your case record is either pure luck or you've got powers or something," agent Ethan Chavez replied. He sighed.

"Probably luck then, because I definitely don't have powers," David said.

"Yeah...wanna test that luck? We're playing poker after work," agent Brian Dorsey asked.

"Ah...no thanks. I already spend eight to ten hours away from my wife as it is. I'd rather not spend even more time away from her," he replied. Dorsey shook his head.

"You're an odd one, Nolan. Most guys would jump at the chance for a night away from the ball and chain," he commented. David had to bite his tongue to keep from responding too harshly. Dorsey had quite the reputation around the office. He was married, but it was a poorly kept secret that he could often be found at the nearby cop bars and had little respect for any vows he had once taken to his spouse. He liked most of the other guys, but there was always that one and in this group, it was definitely Dorsey.

"I really hope you're not referring to my wife as a ball and chain," David warned, though he kept any malice from his voice. As expected, Dorsey wisely backtracked.

"Uh, course not...nothing but respect for the ladies," he said.

"You're such a douche canoe, Dorsey. You wouldn't know how to respect a woman even if your life depended upon doing so," Agent Danielle Harding commented derisively. David smirked at that, as he entered the conference room with his coffee.

"Agent Harding will be joining us today for an extra pair of eyes," Pat said, as she and Trevor entered the room. David noticed the analyst giving him more odd glances, but tried to ignore the quirky tech.

"I think I'm up to speed...but this seems like a lot of violence for a female perpetrator," Danielle mentioned.

"We thought so too, but we didn't want to narrow our field too much since these aren't your ordinary serial killings," David said. She nodded in understanding.

"Okay...let's get to it," she said, as her phone rang and she answered it.

"Donovan," she said and then sighed.

"Where?" she asked and David knew that meant they had another victim.

"We'll be right there," she said, as she hung up.

"Scratch that...we have another body. Boston College again this time," she replied.

"Harding...stay behind and narrow our list down to anyone that has access to the Boston College campus. Our suspect may have just narrowed our pool without knowing it," Pat said. Danielle nodded, as David followed his boss out.

"Summer's school again…" he said worriedly.

"He's escalating, which hopefully means he'll get sloppy and we'll catch a break," Pat replied, as they boarded the elevator.

"We'll get him," she assured.

~*~

"I really hope so, my angel, but I'm not sure this is possible," Fandral said, as they walked hand in hand to the library that morning.

"But Emma and Killian were able to get through whatever barrier the curse has put up," Rose protested.

"With a powerful spell and an added magical fog to conceal their escape. I'm not sure getting a message to another sector of realms will be plausible," he said.

"Except...I think it might," she replied, as they reached the library. But they were unpleasantly surprised to see that they had unwelcome company.

"Why are you here, demon?" Fandral hissed, as he drew his sword and guarded his wife.

"You weren't kidding...they're nearly identical to the Charmings," Arthur spat distastefully.

"We have come to return a book...a curious book we found in the Dark One's shop," Mephisto leered, as he dropped the large tome at their feet.

"You mean after you burned his shop to the ground?" Rose accused.

"Mind your tongue, pretty one or it might get snapped off," Gawain threatened, but that was a mistake, as her Asgardian husband moved with lightning quickness and lifted the demon off his feet by his neck.

"Threaten my beloved again and you will suffer the full wrath of my Asgardian might," Fandral warned, but the demon only chuckled evilly, as the warrior tossed him to the floor.

"Yes...we found it in the shop and curiously nothing else of real value. It is quite strange that all the Dark One's items of any value or magical importance have mysteriously disappeared, don't you think?" Mephisto questioned.

"We know nothing of the inventory the Dark One chooses to keep," Fandral refuted.

"No...but this book is definitely not his and came from here. A book on...ancient beings and star gems," he said in accusation. A shiver of fear slithered through them both and Fandral felt his dark presence, as he appeared behind them.

"It was me...I am responsible for that book leaving this library. Rose had nothing to do with it," Fandral confessed, as she clutched his arm.

"I expressly banned books like these and ordered they be stored away since, as even I was not able to burn this insufferable library to the ground," Seth growled.

"And the slip was mine, My Lord…" Fandral interjected, as the monster glowered at Rose.

"Silence…" he hissed, as he brought the Asgardian warrior to his knees with his mind meld.

"Fandral…" Rose cried, as she knelt beside him, just as Charming and Winter arrived.

"My Lord...allow me to deliver their executions as punishment," Charming said, as he shared a nervous look with his counterpart.

"No…" Seth refuted and fear rippled through them all. Mephisto smirked deviously.

"My Lord?" Charming asked.

"I have decided on a different form of punishment. Your execution would be far too swift for a grievance like this," Seth said, as he looked around in disgust.

"It pains me that not even I have the power to burn this library out of existence, but since it was created by the powers of many universes combined, it is beyond even my power. I do not like that," Seth continued.

"But I can install a new proprietor for the library. One that will do as I asked and store banned texts away from the masses," he growled, as he looked at the rulers of Andresia and Rose's uncle came into the room.

"I assure you...you shall not regret giving my Kingdom back to me, my Lord," John said, as he and Sir Hiss bowed deeply to him.

"You…" Fandral growled, but Seth's power kept him on his knees and John enjoyed the warrior's pain greatly.

"You and the lovely Rose Red have been a thorn in my side far too long. Finally...you both are about to get what you deserve," he hissed evilly.

"Yes...and the time has come to deliver that punishment," Seth declared. Rose cried out and buried her face in her husband's shoulder.

"My Lord…" Charming started to say.

"You will be silent!" Seth bellowed and he dropped to his knees, holding his head in pain. Winter fell beside him and her eyes met Rose's, astonished by how utterly broken she looked. She knew what was coming and her eyes were pleading with Winter's.

"The children…" Charming whispered. They would have to find a way to slip them out, but once Seth left, it would be easy to do so under John's nose.

"I hereby banish you both from the United Realms and cast you out into the All World River as I once was," Seth announced.

"And we know that you will likely survive such, Fandral of Asgard, but your wife will not," he hissed.

"And therein, you'll be delivered the ultimate punishment as you survive, while she dies in your arms and you are forced to hold her lifeless corpse and pray for a death you'll probably only receive after years of wandering the nothingness of the volatile river," he said with an evil gleam.

"Please...spare Rose. Kill me...but do not punish the mother of my children," Fandral begged.

"It is done…" Seth declared, as a portal was ripped open before them and the two were sucked away. Charming and Winter could only stare in horror, as their friends were gone and he turned to them.

"You will find me the Dark One dagger, my right hand or I will allow Mephisto's demons to rip your darling Winter apart however they please," he threatened, as Gawain ripped her away from him.

"Nooo!" Charming cried, but then he was holding his head in agony.

"Tell me where it is…" Seth demanded.

"I do not know what the imp did with it," he lied and Seth was not satisfied with that answer, before nodding to the demonic Gawain.

"Oh...this will be fun, pretty one," he hissed, as he grabbed her around the waist. Charming growled and tried to get to his feet, but the pain in his head wouldn't allow it. But a blast of orange magic hit him and sent the dark Lord smashing into a bookcase nearby.

"Impossible...you're dead," Mephisto hissed, as Aphrodite and James stood there, having come to their rescue. They had Fandral and Rose's crying children with them as well.

"Nothing is what it seems, demon...and your time will soon be up," the Goddess said, as Seth, now fully enraged, pulled himself from the rubble.

"You...you will pay for that, Goddess," he promised.

"Not today," Elsa said, as she froze all of them in place, as she and Leo arrived.

"That won't hold them long," she said, as Leo helped his father up.

"I knew it...I knew you were manipulating the great Seth and I will make sure you pay for your deception, Prince Charming," Mephisto growled. James threw a bean down and they all escaped through a portal. The entirety of the United Realms shook, as Seth roared in anger.

~*~

Summer walked onto campus that morning with a friend. Usually her dad dropped her off, but he had been called in on a case really early so she called a friend since the campus was in the opposite direction of Bobby and her mom's school.

"Thanks for the ride," she said.

"No worries...and looks like we have time to spare to grab coffee. You up for it?" her friend asked, as they saw the crime scene tape just ahead of them.

"Whoa...wonder what's going on there," her friend commented. Summer sighed.

"The reason my dad couldn't give me a ride. I'll catch up to you in a bit," she said, as she approached the scene.

"No trespassing from the public," the uniformed officer at the scene said.

"Relax Officer...she's the daughter of one of my agents," Patricia admonished, as she motioned the girl forward.

"Someone else died?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart...do you know this girl?" Patricia asked, as she showed her a picture from a file. They already had the gruesome sight covered with a tarp or she would have never let Summer near the scene.

"She kind of looks familiar so I've probably seen her around campus. But I'm sorry, I didn't know her personally," Summer said, as David came over and hugged his little girl.

"That's okay...I didn't think you would. She didn't exactly strike me as someone who would hang out with the same people you do," Patricia said.

"Daddy...are the students in danger?" Summer asked. David looked at his boss and she cocked her head to the side.

"To be honest, I'm not sure, peanut. But we'll be here most of the day, so for now, just go to your classes and then I'll be here to take you home. But it would make me feel better if you didn't go anywhere alone on campus," he said. She smiled.

"I have friends in most of my classes. I'll walk with them," she promised.

"That's my girl...I'll see you later," he said.

"Love you daddy," she replied.

"Love you too, peanut," he said, as he watched her go.

"We have to find who is doing this. Right now it's drug addicts, but what happens if this guy decides to try a larger victim pool?" David fretted.

"The profile would suggest that his desperation will increase, especially since he's back to not caring if it's students. Having more subjects would be appealing. So far though, it would seem that this serum has to be injected into the blood and there is one thing that struck me about our latest victim," Patricia said, as she opened the file.

"You found a friend of hers?" David asked. She nodded.

"I just got off the phone with her just before Summer came over. She didn't want to meet in person, but was surprised when I told her that her friend died from a needle drug. She said her friend was a pill popper. She never used needles...ever. She hated them," Patricia replied.

"Wow...so our perp had to be pretty convincing and she had to be pretty desperate to do a needle," David surmised.

"That's what I'm thinking, which plays more into our theory that this person is someone highly educated and in a position that naturally gives them trust and respect," she added. He sighed.

"Like a Professor," he said, as he became deeply worried.

"We'll get him. Now that he's back to students again...there is no more keeping this quiet. I'm going to deliver the profile. Then it's only a matter of time before our suspect goes for broke," she said, as he saw the reporters gathering outside the crime scene tape.

"Okay...what about her parents? Someone needs to talk to them," he said and she looked at him sadly.

"I'm afraid there's no father in her file and her mother is worse off than she is," she said, as she showed him the rap sheet on the mother.

"She's pretty strung out and probably doesn't even remember she has a daughter," Patricia said, as she went to make a statement with the press. He sighed, as the medical examiner van arrived and he supervised the scene, as they prepared to take the body away.

~*~

When they arrived through the portal, Eva rushed to her parents and they hugged her.

"Eva...you're okay," Winter said. She nodded.

"Paul and Hope are here too," she assured.

"And Henry?" Charming asked.

"We're fine too...gramps," Henry said, as he Ella, and Lucy were safe as well.

"Uncle James has been busy rounding everyone up," Leo said, as he hugged them too.

"Thank Rumple...he saw that Seth was on the warpath and headed for Andresia," James said.

"Unfortunately, we couldn't save Rose and Fandral," Aphrodite said sadly.

"Oh Charming…" Winter cried, as he took her in his arms.

"Then...our mama and papa are really gone?" Ben asked brokenly. None of them could find a voice to tell them.

"There may be hope, young ones," Hermes said, as she appeared and they ran to her, as she was like an Aunt to them.

"I was able to send a message in a bottle into the All World River earlier. I used an enchantment that gave it coordinates for New Asgard. There is a chance that Lady Sif will find it and send Thor to save them. The bi-frost will be their only chance now," Hermes informed them.

"Then...there is a chance they are still alive?" Carina asked.

"I cannot be certain, sweetheart, but we must not lose hope," she told her.

"Like my charges...yours are very strong as well. We must hope Thor will come to their aid and help them return to us," Hermes said.

"Does he know? About this place?" Rumple asked, as he and Belle arrived.

"Not specifically, but now he knows of our betrayal. We need to evacuate as many innocents here as we can," Charming said, as he looked to Anton.

"What is our bean supply like?" he asked.

"Fortunately, we have hundreds on hand. As long as he does not find us here," Anton answered.

"He can't access Bald Mountain without the dagger," Rumple said.

"Which he's soon going to realize isn't here in the United Realms," Regina feared.

"Which means he'll figure out we sent it with Snow and David," Robin deduced.

"You think he'll send one of his minions to Boston?" Belle asked.

"Most likely, which means we need to warn Emma. But firstly, we have to gather as many innocents as possible," Winter replied.

"As soon as he knows what we're doing...it will be difficult to evade him and his minions. And I don't think I have to tell you if he gets through one of our portals to this place...it's over," Rumple warned.

"Then we have to be very smart and quick," Charming said.

"We could create some weather issues...the three of us," Eva said, as she motioned to her twin and Elsa.

"She's right. A nice little snowstorm over Olympus, a tornado smashing through Nephilim, and a lightning event in Storybrooke could provide some cover," Leo suggested.

"I have more fog spells like I used on the Harbor to conceal Emma and Killian's escape. If I combine them, we could have a large enough blanket of fog to conceal us for a short time," Rumple said. Charming nodded.

"Mom...the reserve. He might attack it in retaliation," Leo feared.

"Your father and I will use the chalice to seal it off. Only someone of our bloodline will be able to get in," she promised.

"Everyone has their mission. Let's go," Charming said, as they all became very busy.

~*~

Seth's eyes bled yellow with rage, as he stomped around his Throne room atop Mount Olympus.

"They will pay...they will all pay…" he growled, as the structure of his palace trembled in his wake.

"I knew they had betrayed you, my Lord...I just couldn't prove it until now," Mephisto said, but he withered under the God's glower.

"Silence…" he snapped, as he continued to seethe.

"I want the dagger!" he roared.

"My Lord...if I may, the Dark One is crafty and it is possible that the dagger is not within this realm," Arthur said.

"What do you mean?" Seth asked.

"The brats...it would be just like that imp to send it with a child. He'd never trust another family with it," Gawain agreed.

"Then you two will go to the Land Without Magic. You will find the dagger for me and you will kill Snow White, Prince David, and their snotty brats! Without magic...they shall be no match for your demonic powers," Seth shouted. Arthur smirked.

"It would be our incredible honor to grind their bones to powder, my Lord," the former King said.

"And you're sure they have no magic?" Gawain questioned. Seth smirked.

"The foolish Winter and Charming were greedy and kept the chalice between them," he said.

"Excellent...we shall leave at once, my Lord...that is if you can provide us a way," Arthur said. Seth raised his hand and tore a hole in into the Maine woods that surrounded the concealment of the United Realms.

"It will be up to the two of you to find your way to them in a place called Boston. Make the mortals out there help you if you must," he said. The two nodded and walked through the portal, before it closed.

"And you...do not return to my sight until you have Charming's head in your hand! Kill them all!" Seth demanded. Mephisto smirked and bowed to him.

"It will be my pleasure to deliver his corpse to you and get justice for you, My Lord," he said, as he disappeared in a poof of smoke. Seth continued to seethe.

"This is my Kingdom! And they will all pay!" he growled, as he continued to stomp around his Throne room in a fit.

~*~

Fandral had never been so terrified in his very long life as he was in this moment. He held Rose tightly in his arms, as the All World River whipped them around violently.

"My angel...you must stay with me," he pleaded, as he breathed into her mouth again. He was the only thing keeping her alive and his air was not enough. She was fading fast and tears slipped down his face, as he realized that he was going to lose her. If he did, then he would beg the river for death.

"It's...it's all right, my love," she said, as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"You...can let me go. I'll always be with you," she rasped.

"You must save your breath...you must, my angel," he pleaded, as she weakly raised a hand to his handsome face.

"You must go on...for our children," she pleaded to him.

"I...I cannot lose you. I cannot survive that," he sobbed.

"You must...kiss me one last time, my love…" she requested and he could not deny her, as he crushed his lips against hers in the most passionate kiss ever.

"Rose...Rose please!" he cried almost uncontrollably, as she slowly slipped away in his arms. He had fought some of the worst scurges to ever exist and had faced battles that should have ended him without fear. None of that had ever fazed him, but losing her brought this warrior to the brink of insanity and he cried over her like he never had before.

"Please...all mighty Odin please!" he pleaded.

"I know you can hear me, Odin! I beg you to take me if you are going to take her!" he sobbed, as he buried his face in her chest and cried harder when he realized it was no longer rising and falling.

As if to answer him, a light suddenly was shining upon him. But it was not the long dead Odin that had come to put him out of his misery. He looked up through his tears and found his friend there, still with saddened eyes and a bit haggard, but he was there.

"She will not die today, my friend and neither will you. I will lose no more friends," Thor declared, as the bi-frost snapped them up and deposited them back in New Asgard.

Fandral gently lay Rose on the ground and a man that he recognized as Eric Selvig knelt down beside them.

"Please...I have medical training," he said. He nodded and he started pumping Rose's chest.

"I want you to breathe for her now," Eric instructed and he did so. After a few breaths, Rose took a strangled one of her own and her green eyes, those green eyes he feared he would never see again, opened.

"Rose…" he uttered brokenly and then looked up at them.

"I can never repay this debt I owe to you all," he said, as he cradled his beloved in his arms and she took starved breaths of air.

"Happy to help," Eric assured.

"He's right...we received the message from Hermes and not too soon at all it would seem," Sif said.

"Yes...what has happened in your realm to cause this?" Thor questioned.

"It is quite a story, but we will tell you everything. Perhaps there is somewhere more comfortable though?" Fandral asked. They nodded and rose to their feet. Fandral did as well and scooped Rose into his arms.

"Come...we'll get you substance and you can tell us of the calamity that caused all this," Thor said, as they moved toward his home.

~*~

Margaret smiled, as she watched all the students proudly display their projects and parents milled through the exhibits. So far, the science fair was off to a rousing start.

"Mrs. Nolan...look what I won!" one of her freshman students called, as they hurried up to the table she was at.

"Oh...that's wonderful Heather. I'm so happy for you," she said, congratulating the girl on her blue ribbon. She was a bit of an introverted girl and Margaret had hoped to make a difference with her by pushing her to apply herself and it had definitely paid off. The girl had more confidence in herself and her grades were up. It was the very reason Margaret had always wanted to go into teaching. She had always longed to make a difference in young lives and it truly felt rewarding to be a part of something like this.

"Well...it's not hard to see why that young student is a fan of yours. The science fair is a huge success and leaps and bounds over any previous event," Dr. Jenkins praised. Margaret looked shy under the praise though.

"There are a lot of moving parts here. I am just a small part of a lot of people working together," Margaret said.

"If you say so...but I think you are far too modest, Margaret," he said and she noticed the gleam in his eyes, not for the first time. She wasn't oblivious, but had hoped there was nothing behind the doctor's praise. She was a happily married woman, after all, but he seemed reluctant to remember such.

"Wow Mom...this is great," Bobby said, as he arrived from practice.

"Thanks sweetie," she replied, as she hugged him.

"I think things are winding down though and the projects have been judged, so I'm going to go grab my things from my classroom and then we'll head home. Your dad and Summer should be home by then too," she said.

"Okay...I'm going to go say hi to some friends while I wait," he said. Dr. Jenkins watched her leave the gym to return to her classroom and the voices in his head were too much. He tried to ignore his urges, but he couldn't and was soon following her.

~*~

Killian brought the Jolly Roger into port that afternoon. They had already attracted a lot of attention and the Coastguard clearly remembered their very distinctive ship escaping their custody years ago.

Fortunately, calling Angela and Nick helped and they agreed to help them when she explained the situation and met them at the docks. They used their badges and bypassed the Coastguard authority, which didn't make them happy, and led Emma and Killian to a nearby coffee kiosk.

"Thanks for flying in from New York on such short notice," Emma said, as she sipped at her coffee.

"Thank my recent promotion, though I'm a little miffed that I had no idea your father was working for the FBI," Angela replied.

"Yeah...that's what surprises me. I mean...someone higher up has to know he's the same person from Seattle," Emma replied.

"Yeah...and her name might be Major Patricia Donovan, though I agree that there has to be someone else even above her aware of all of this. Just no idea who," Nick said, as he put the file in front of them.

"That's her," Killian said, recognizing the woman.

"Yeah...this is the woman that told us she was going to be a handler for my parents before the curse took them. She also said she killed Cecily Clayton and took over her father's operation," Emma said.

"Yes...then our memories were taken and we've been under the curse for two years until yesterday," Killian added. Angela sighed.

"Your lives are insane," she commented. Emma snorted.

"Believe me...I know. So this Major Donovan...what do you know about her?" Emma asked.

"Not a lot...she's former military and seven years ago, after the whole Seattle debacle, she forced us to release all the information about that day over to her, including the Nolan files that the FBI has on your family," Nick replied.

"Yeah and they classified it all. You have to be seriously high up to get the clearance to look at their files or anything about Seattle. The FBI has done its best to bury information about that day and the official story explains it away as a severe electrical weather event," she explained. Emma looked at her skeptically.

"And people buy that load of crap?" she asked. Nick snorted.

"I think it's easier for most. But yeah...there is a lot of conspiracy stuff out there about that day and your family too," he replied.

"Yeah...we're actually aware of some of that. My sister actually keeps up on it just to keep us informed of what they're saying and stuff. And Happy and Doc get their kicks from it," Emma commented.

"Then you know that some of those crazy conspiracy guys are pretty damn close on some of it," he said. She sighed.

"Yeah...way too damn close," she replied.

"So...my dad is working for this Major Donovan on a task force?" Emma asked.

"Apparently so...in fact, Major Donovan just made a statement about some serial type deaths at major Universities in the Boston area," she answered.

"Serial type deaths?" Killian asked.

"Your Dad is investigating drug related deaths. From what information I could glean, there's a new drug that has the FBI lab baffled. It's not like anything we know. It causes wild hallucinations and causes the victims to lose their minds in seconds. Some of the victims were even screaming about hearing voices telling them to do bad things before they died," she explained.

"Yeah...total personality change," Nick commented.

"Jekyll and Hyde," Killian muttered, as he looked at her. She sighed.

"Yeah...we know who is doing this and he probably doesn't have his memories yet, but that doesn't mean my mom isn't in serious danger," Emma said.

"That's great...but if we just walk into the Boston office with this information, Major Donovan is never going to let us in on the investigation," Angela replied.

"Then I need to find my Mom...do you know where she's working?" Emma asked.

"We ran her name. She's teaching at a high school across town. I think your brother goes there too," Nick replied.

"That's where Jekyll is then. We need to get there and if I know my dad, it won't be long until he figures him out," Emma said, as they stood up.

"You think? I mean...I heard they still have dozens of suspects," Nick replied.

"Trust me...the minute my Dad sees Jekyll or whatever name he is going by here is on that suspect list, which I assure you that he is...he'll know it's him. He'll just know," Emma assured.

"For now, let's get to that school. Snow and even Bobby could be in serious danger," Killian said.

"We'll drive you," Angela offered, as they hurried to her car...

[cardiaceyes]

I’m trying to be good

Ships: Sam/Lara, Jake/Sherry, Claire/Badassness Fandom: Tomb Raider/Resident Evil Chapters: 1/4 Summary: A TR/RE crossover because I can.  Read on ao3

Excerpt:

Claire softens, smiling before leaning forward to place a kiss to her forehead. Sam looks away for a moment. It reminds her too much of what her mother used to do for her on bad days. The older woman taps the jacket draped around Sherry’s arm and smiles.

“Put it on, it’s lucky. You remember that, right?”

Sherry nods, and Claire smiles again squeezing her shoulder before disappearing with Hisao to an office like promised.

Sam takes note of the Jacket as Sherry puts it on. It’s well worn, faded, but not beyond recognition. It’s simply old. Sam can understand the sentiment.

Lara’s hiding away in their flat more than likely. Sam doesn’t necessarily mind, but she’s so fucking bored it takes every ounce of her to stay put. To continue to converse and make connections for the sake of her father, who hasn’t been able to look at her properly since-

Sam lets out a breath of air, slumping in her seat at a random table. She slowly sips on her drink and wishes she didn’t have this dumb, tight, black dress on. She’s already discarded her heels. It’s so goddamn uncomfortable to breathe, but she’s nothing if not a dutiful daughter so her father will get off her back despite having not right.

She doesn’t remember if this is a charity event or a publicity stunt but honestly, she doesn’t give a shit anymore. It’s for her father, so why should she care? She knows there are very important, big named people here, that could benefit the company and give money to whatever charity her father randomly chose for the night. As long as someone gets the help they need that’s not rich, right?

Glancing around she sighs. There’s a man from Sony Entertainment across the way, she can recognize a few celebrities, faces from important organizations and high paying businesses. There’s even a man or two from the government, from a division she’s never heard of. It’s suspect but if her dad gets arrested? Oh fucking well.

And then. Then she spots a woman, two actually. A blonde and an auburn-haired older woman. Sam’s head tilts in interest for a moment, she didn’t recognize them before. Odd. The blonde has shorter hair, a pixie cut, but blue eyes. She wears a red dress and smiles at the other woman like a child does to their mother. After the auburn-haired woman says something, the blonde disappears through a couple of doors towards the parking lot, Sam knows.

The woman left shifts uncomfortably for a moment. She’s older, in her late 30’s maybe? She’s wearing darker jeans, black boots, and a silk red shirt. What hangs on her arm is a red leather bikers jacket. That is curious.

Sam continues to sip on her drink, wondering what importance she has when bright blue eyes must feel her watching and turn towards her. Sam chokes on her drink, coughing in surprise. She can’t hear her but she knows the woman chuckles because as Sam regains her breath and looks back towards her the woman is making her way over. She feels slightly uncomfortable, she has when talking to anyone here, but she doesn’t have a chance to get away or find her father to talk to her because the woman stands on the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sounds amused, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sam awkwardly waves her hand as she breathes. She tries to play it off as being fine, but the woman must be able to tell it’s not because she tries not to laugh.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam croaks, finally able to talk properly as she pauses for a second, “I’m good, I’m good I swear.”

The woman chuckles again before gesturing to the chair across from Sam. Sam debates for a moment before she shrugs and nods, the woman takes the seat, placing her jacket beside herself on said table. There’s no purse in sight.

“I really don’t want to talk to anyone here,” The woman admits, “at least. Older ogling men. You seemed like a safer choice.”

Sam snorts, “I won’t hit on you or harass, so I’m a little better.” There’s a pause, and Sam realizes what that implies, “okay. Just don’t tell my dad I said that.”

The woman laughs this time, hearty and entirely amused. Sam feels a little better. See? She can interact sometimes.

“Don’t worry,” the woman shakes her head, “I won’t. Your closeted secret is safe with me.”

“Good.” Sam nods taking a drink, amused herself.

It’s silent for a moment as the woman looks out towards the sea of people around them, looking for someone, in particular, Sam thinks. Sam, however, hates the silence and it’s obvious the woman isn’t going to find whom she wants.

“I’m Sam.” She offers.

“I know,” the woman smiles at her, Sam blinks confused, but she isn't given a further exploration.

Which means, she probably knows. Probably saw it on the news at least. She doesn't point it out or bring it up, much to Sam's relief. It's been two years but she doesn't know if she could take another person asking. She's still healing.

“I'm Claire,” Claire offers her hand, to which Sam shakes.

“I've never met you,” Sam comments gesturing to her father.

“I've never met Hisao,” Claire avoids the word dad, Sam isn't sure if she's relieved, “but I was invited. I'd almost say I don't know why, but it's good publicity for him and my work.”

Oh. There's something interesting. So she's not a guest, friend, she's here for work. What kind of work?

“Really?” Sam inquires, sitting up and pushing her drink aside, “how's that?”

Claire raises a brow for a moment.

“Have you thought about Journalism?” Sam shakes her head but doesn't answer. “I'm Claire Redfield.”

Sam pauses, brows furrowing. Sounds familiar but...not quite enough to shake her brain.

“The only Redfield I know of is Christopher, a founding member of the B.S.A.A.” Sam nods as Claire raises a brow.

“How neat,” Claire means it, “he's a tough guy, isn't he? Tall. Brooding. Doesn't know when to not get himself into trouble.”

There's a suspicion that forms at the back of Sam's mind, something itching and connecting that she ignores for favor of this conversation. She can tell there's fondness there but she doesn't understand the extent of it.

“Anyways,” Claire continues, “I'm here on behalf of TerraSave.”

“Isn't that...a human rights organization?”

Claire brightens up at the mention, leaning forward on the table. She's fully engaged.

“We are,” she nods, “we primarily provide aid during bioterrorism and medical-related tragedies.”

Sam nods.

“So why did dad-”

“A couple of years ago,” Claire frowns, “we reworked ourselves. It came to light our director at the time hadn't been entirely honest, it put a lot of pressure on us. So we did internal investigations and we're better now than before. From what I understand, he did something similar, so by showing solidarity or getting multiple praises and, or, good words from people well known…”

Sam nods in understanding, “he gets positive publicity. Yeah sounds like dearest ole dad.”

Claire nods with a sigh, obviously tired before even interacting with anyone here, but. Alas.

Something connects with Sam, and she blinks in surprise.

“You're Chris Redfield's sister!”

Claire smiles, opening her mouth to speak-

“Director Redfield,” her father greets, sweeping towards them.

Claire stands instantly, smiling like she wasn't just exhausted, and shakes his hand. Her smile is charming and disarms her father instantly. It's rather amusing.

Sam, however, is a little shocked. Director?

“Mr. Nishimura,” Claire greets happily, “it's nice to meet you.”

Hisao looks from Claire to his daughter. In question.

“Sup, dad?” Sam tries.

“Have you-” Claire cuts him off.

“She was wonderful company. She kept me from leaving, you should be proud she's a smart and wonderful girl.” It's so worth it as Hisao blinks, huffing slightly, affronted she'd think he would think anything less.

He does. Often. Sam thinks.

“Of course,” he nods, “where's Sherry? I would like to meet her again, not so much her boyfriend.”

“She went down to make a call,” Claire smiles, “you know. Government agents and all.

They laugh like it's an inside joke and Sam doesn't get it. It's obvious by how they talk Claire wasn't being completely forthcoming. Sam, however, doubts she was lying.

“Yes, it's nice to finally meet you,” he admits, “now. Shall we talk?”

Claire feigns thinking well enough for her dad to sweat momentarily.

“Of course,” she nods before turning back to Sam, “look out for Sherry, please? Blonde, blue eyes, too friendly. Might come in with a brooding and redhead-”

“I'll keep an eye out.”

Claire looks grateful, then she turns, and walks away with Hisao who continues talking almost instantly.

Sam exhales, deflating against her chair. Looking about she finds no one else of interest, no one else that she hasn’t talked to yet.

She spends the next twenty minutes on her phone, texting Lara who continuously tells her to get off the phone so her dad won’t get onto her. That she’s not there to say something, and that. That is something that always bothers her.

Ever since- ever since that goddamn island Lara’s almost treated as though she can’t do anything. No, that’s not fair. Treated her as though she wants to do everything for her. It makes her feel borderline fragile and it’s so frustrating but she doesn’t have the energy to argue about it until it sticks with Lara. So she simply stops replying and puts her phone on silent. Hopefully, Lara will believe she’s listening.

She can see Claire and her father across the floor in a secluded corner. It looks serious because he has this look in his eyes, arms crossed, actually listening, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. She knows it must be serious because she does the same thing. Claire seems to be talking, though, a little annoyed. Sam wonders what they could be talking about.

Something about Claire though...Sam can’t really put a name to it. So she does the only logical thing she can, she reaches into her purse to pull out a tablet and googles Claire Redfield from TerraSave. A headline shows up first.

TERRASAVE, HUMAN RIGHTS OR TERRORIST RIGHTS?

Sam’s face twists in disgust, but she knows well enough to read it. There’s usually at least a speckle of truth. As she does, she finds the article is more geared towards TerraSave with some honest criticism about how quickly they respond to disasters. However, even the writer agrees that this is more due to a conflict between TerraSave, the B.S.A.A., and governments not allowing them on sight instantly despite good relations.

There is, however, a spot in the article about Claire that piques her interest.

Apparently, Claire wasn’t wrong. The old Director of TerraSave had money in his pockets from some very suspicious people, but this revelation was brought about after an incident on a Russian Island and a high ranking member. It doesn’t go into too much detail about it, but it does say that shortly after the old Director was given the boot Claire very reluctantly took the job.

Claire has publicly stated that she’ll keep it until the board finds someone better. TerraSave has thrived under her leadership, but she remains adamant that if someone better suited came along she’d give up the reigns.

Sam goes back and clicks on another article, more suited to older news.

RACCOON CITY: THE TRAGEDY AND THE SURVIVORS.

The most Sam knows, before she reads, is Raccoon City was once a thriving city before it was destroyed. It was destroyed on government order- news which has only come out the past couple of years -and thousands died. She knows vaguely of what actually happened.

TerraSave was formed during the years after the incident and initially helped actual survivors of the incident find their lives and families again. Only a handful of people actually survived.

Claire, at a TerraSave press conference about their rebranding, claimed to be a survivor so she knew how it felt to be a victim.

Sam turns her head as she hears the door open from across the room again. She finds the blonde Claire was with before, coming inside and almost instantly spotting the jacket Claire left. She does her best to smile but Sam can tell it’s half-hearted for unknown reasons. She approaches slowly as Sam sets her tablet back in her bag.

“Is this-”

“Are you Sherry?” Sam asks. Sherry nods, Sam smiles, “Claire’s talking to my dad. She told me to look out for you.”

“Oh! You’re Hisao’s daughter! Samantha!” Sherry lights up as she slides into a seat, grabbing the jacket and placing it on her lap.

Sam blinks.

“You know my dad?” Claire mentioned it to her father but-

“Yeah!” Sherry nods and offers a grin that still doesn’t meet her eyes, “It’s- a little complicated but I saved his life.”

Sam blinks in shock, “How?”

Sherry laughs, “That, unfortunately, is classified. It pertains to an assignment I was on. I work for the D.S.O.”

Sam blinks again in confusion. The what?

As Sherry opens her mouth to speak, her phone rings. Sherry sighs answers it almost immediately. Sam can’t tell what’s being said but she can tell it’s confusing because Sherry covers an ear and leans forward as it might help.

“What? Jake, slow down- you’re going to have to I can’t understand you. Are you okay? Where are you?” There’s a long pause, “Okay. There’s a group of FBI agents here I’ll- wait. What? No. Okay. I’ll grab Claire. No! Don’t try to- ugh! Jake!”

Sherry’s out of her seat in an instant, moving as quickly as she can to Claire and Sam’s father. Sam almost instantly follows her out of curiosity.

“What’s-”

“I- I just need to get to Claire. It’s important.”

Sam believes her, so Sam does what she does best. She pulls Sherry behind her and bulldozes her way straight through the crowd not relinquishing her hold on Sherry’s wrist. Sherry mutters a thank you but doesn’t say much more until they’re where they want to be.

Claire turns, confused and concerned, her eyes settling on the younger woman instantly. Hisao, however, looks offended and confused. But before he can say anything Sherry talks first.

“It’s Jake,” Claire’s face softens, “he says- h-he was following someone on his way out. They were suspicious. He said they have a bomb and a weird looking canister.”

Claire looks towards the FBI sitting across the room, gazing at everyone else. Sherry places a hand on her wrist to stop her.

“He said they were wearing uniforms,” her head jerks towards the agents, “he was going to try to take them out too.”

“What are they doing here?” Hisao finally speaks up, meaning the agents, “I didn’t invite them. There’s no investigation.”

“I’m not sure,” Claire looks around the small crowd of people around her, “but I know one thing. Tonight’s going to get ugly, and we have people to protect.” Her head turns to Hisao, “do you have a private office we can all talk in? Away from the crowd?”

“Uh- I yes.” He nods, frowning, nervous.

“Alright. I need to contact my brother or Director Valentine,” He swallows but nods, Claire turns to Sherry, “see if you can get Jake back on the line and tell him not to do anything rash. Stay here with Sam, both of you keep an eye out on the crowd and if you can’t get back to Jake send me a picture of anyone suspicious I can send it to Chris. Maybe we’ll get lucky.

Sherry looks concerned, huffing lightly and just staring at the older woman.

Claire softens, smiling before leaning forward to place a kiss to her forehead. Sam looks away for a moment. It reminds her too much of what her mother used to do for her on bad days. The older woman taps the jacket draped around Sherry’s arm and smiles.

“Put it on, it’s lucky. You remember that, right?”

Sherry nods, and Claire smiles again squeezing her shoulder before disappearing with Hisao to an office like promised.

Sam takes note of the Jacket as Sherry puts it on. It’s well worn, faded, but not beyond recognition. It’s simply old. Sam can understand the sentiment.

“Jake? Are you still there?” Sherry calls into the phone before sighing and looks at Sam.

“No luck?” Sherry shakes her head, “try one last time. If he doesn’t answer we’ll do what Claire wanted. By the way, can I ask what’s probably happening? She said to call her brother, B.S.A.A. right?”

Sherry freezes for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah. From what Jake described it sounds like a bioterrorist attack,” Sam blinks, “the sad thing is. I don’t know how or when they’ll attack, so without Jake being my eyes I can’t do anything until it happens. Authorities won’t get here quick enough either.”

“Have you been in a few attacks, yourself?”

“Something like that.” Sherry gives a smile that makes Sam’s stomach churn.

Tonight is going to be a long night, isn’t it?

[wrldtravler]

The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak (1/5)

Hello!! I’m so pleased to bring this little side project to you all. I actually had this idea in mind before I even realized the Met Gala was happening a few months ago, but I shelved it to work on my other WIPs. But, it’s been begging me to finish it lately. I’ve got it almost complete, so I figured I could finally start posting! Which I’m really excited to do because this was something a little different for me. The chapters are relatively short, but hopefully they say a lot with a little! Since they are so short, and most of them are done, you won’t be waiting too long for the next parts! Enjoy!

The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak

Chapter 1: The Meet at the Met

Summary: It started with a series of photographs at the Met Gala. From then on, everyone became obsessed with the potential love story surrounding award-winning actor Oliver Queen and the brilliant CEO Felicity Smoak. Follow along as the media, and the world, try to put together just exactly what is going on between the secretive pair.

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

This is not a drill, folks. Oliver Queen may be off the market. If he is, though, we can't be too upset because he's made a great choice. Queen was seen getting very cozy with the stunning, and stunningly brilliant, Felicity Smoak - CEO of Smoak Technologies - at the Met Gala after-party last Saturday. Inside sources say the pair seemed very familiar with each other already as they interacted with other guests together most of the night. It's well-known that Queen has quelled his infamous party-boy attitude in recent years, and maybe Ms. Smoak is the reason. Whatever the reason for the snuggly behavior, I'm sure we can all agree that they do make a stunning pair.

May 2018

Shifting a little in the mildly uncomfortable plastic chair, Oliver passed his fingers through his once neatly styled hair. A brief grin tugged at his lips. His stylists were going to kill him for ruining their work, but it wasn't his fault that they knew he had this habit.

"Oliver, tell us all about your upcoming role in this new film. The company has been very secretive, so we're dying to know what you're doing."

His eyes drifted to the interviewer as his "for-the-camera" smile graced his lips. She was nice enough. Someone he had done other promotional pieces like this with in the past. Because she was trusted, and safe. "I'm sworn to secrecy too, unfortunately. It's still early, so if I reveal too much I doubt I'll be doing any more of these interviews." He chuckled, earning a similar chuckle in response from the girl.

"Come on, there has to be something you can share." She pressed. "Let's start small. Tell us a what you can about your character."

Oliver hummed thoughtfully, a playful twinkle in his eye as he reached up and rubbed his hand over his scruffy jaw. "He's a little bit of a loose cannon. " Oliver started with a laugh. "He gets himself into a lot of trouble in the beginning of the movie, but that changes rather quickly."

"How so?"

Folding his lips together, Oliver took his time thinking over his answer. "Here's where I'm probably going to be fired if I say too much." He laughed. "But, something happens that sets his life on a new path, forces him to grow up in a way as he deals with the aftermath." He revealed cryptically.

"They really do have you on a tight leash, don't they." The interviewer joked, flipping through her materials. "Can I assume, that after that event is when Sara Lance's character comes into the picture?"

Oliver grinned knowingly, though he didn't really rise to the bait. "You are correct. She has her own story, one that's maybe darker than my character's. They're very twisted people." He breathed out with a laugh.

"But they're love interests?"

Contemplating his answer again, Oliver nodded slowly. "In a sense, yes. But, that's all I can really say." He offered with a slightly apologetic smile and shrug.

"Well, what you've given us and based on the previews, I'm certainly excited to see how it all comes together." She praised. "But, I must know, how does Felicity Smoak feel about you having an on-screen love interest?" She prompted, curiously holding his gaze now.

Oliver stilled, his perplexed gaze observing the girl. Then, he laughed. It was a hearty laugh. "Where did this come from?" He asked, his tone rather curious.

"I'm sure you've seen the photos from last week's Met Gala. You and Ms. Smoak have the nation captivated with just three photos. So, we're all dying to know what's going on."

Oliver glanced over to Dig, who was hovering a little ways off behind the girl's shoulder. Dig just shrugged, looking about as confused as he felt. "Do you have these photos for me to see? I don't really keep up with those things anymore." Oliver asked slowly as his eyes slid back to his interviewer.

"Of course!" She said with excitement, magically brandishing a waiting copy of a gossip magazine.

And there he was. On the cover. Staring down at the aforementioned Miss Smoak like a boy with a crush. Her own gaze was no less incriminating either. Not to mention the way her hands cupped his jaw so tenderly. Curiously, he flipped to the section with the "inside scoop" and observed the original photo in full, along with two others the paps managed to snap of them. The other photos were no better, perhaps even more suggestive in their own innocent way. In one, neither of them really seemed to be acknowledging the other while they chatted, but Oliver had his hand on her lower back and Felicity was a few inches away from being nestled into his side. The third photo was actually kind of funny, now that he recalled it. They managed to catch Felicity when she had been straightening his bowtie and made a playful swipe at his scruff.

A soft chuckle slipped from his lips as he handed the magazine back, his eyes following the pictures for a moment longer before sliding back up to the expectant gaze of the interviewer. "I can see how those are confusing. But, I assure you, it's not as it seems between Ms. Smoak and I."

"Oh?" She prompted, shifting slightly to lean forward.

"I greatly admire her work, and all that she's done with her company. I've met her a few times, but only briefly. I was fortunate enough to make her acquaintance more formally last week, and she's just as friendly as everyone raves. She has a knack for taking care of hopeless souls, so it's no surprise when she kindly offered to fix my abysmally done bowtie."

"And the other photos?"

Oliver shifted again. The smile fixed to his lips. "She's remarkable. But, I'm not the only one who's of that opinion. She's absolutely brilliant and has done amazing things for the STEM community and women in STEM. I admit, I might have been a bit star-struck meeting her." He said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and tugging his fingers through the hairs at the base of his head.

"So, no budding romance between you two? Such a shame because it's clear the chemistry is undeniable."

A softer smile graced his lips for a moment, and his eyes zoned out briefly, but he quickly recovered and re-composed his features. "Ms. Smoak and I are friendly acquaintances who just so happen to admire the other's work and got the opportunity to tell the other that night."

The girl contemplated him for a moment before nodding with finality. Then, she turned her gaze to the camera over his shoulder and fixed a sad smile on her face. "Well, there you have it folks. Olicity is off, but we're still more than excited to see what Oliver will do in his upcoming film. Thank you so much for the inside scoop, Oliver."

"Thank you for having me." Came his easy, practiced response with a somewhat awkward wave to the camera fixed on him, paired with his usual dashing smile.

As soon as the camera's cut, Oliver looked back over to the girl with a curiously quirked brow. "Olicity?"

She laughed a little and shrugged at him. "That's what the public deemed your couple name was going to be. I can't believe how quickly it caught on."

Oliver shook his head and laughed right along with her. "People really are creative."

                      ________________________________________

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have a really special guest. She's the fast-rising darling of the tech industry who's out to save the world – Felicity Smoak!" Ellen announced dramatically.

With a deep breath, Felicity strode out onto the set and waved at the crowd with a big smile. When she scanned the crowd, the abundance of young girls here to see her warmed her heart, and she made sure to acknowledge a few of them personally as she passed by. As she approached Ellen, Felicity shared a hug with her before they both took their respective seats. But, the cheering took a few more moments to die down and it had Felicity looking around in awe. She never fathomed, as a child of a single cocktail waitress from Vegas, that she would be here today for her accomplishments.

"Wow, this is insane." Felicity said, though she assumed it was quietly. However, the crowd and Ellen gave an amused chuckle. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. That was louder than I thought. I've never done anything like this before." Felicity gasped, covering her mouth with a hand as she shifted in her seat to cross her legs.

Ellen waved a hand in front of her with an amused grin. "Don't be sorry. That's part of the charm that's captured the world's attention."

"Really?" Felicity faced Ellen with curious eyes.

"Absolutely! I mean, you graduated from MIT at nineteen with not one but two Master's degrees, started your company at twenty-four, and are now the youngest member of the Forbes 500 at twenty-eight." Ellen rattled off, periodically glancing down at the cards in her hand. "If that doesn't pique our interest, then someone's doing something wrong." Ellen punctuated with a laugh.

"You're too kind, Ellen. I'm just doing what I love, that's all." She brushed off with a shy smile at the applause she received after Ellen's generous introduction.

"Nonsense. You deserve it for all the amazing work you've done to revolutionize the technology industry and the treatment of disabilities. Can you tell us more about your work before we get to the good stuff?" She prompted, transitioning them to the main point of the visit.

"Maybe you shouldn't ask me that. I can talk for days about the implant." Felicity laughed, her nerves slowly ebbing. Iris hadn't been lying when she said Ellen was an expert at making guests comfortable. "This is actually a really personal project to me, Ellen. A few years ago, a good friend of mine was badly injured in the line of duty. My VP, Curtis Holt, and I had been tinkering with the idea of stimulus implant for a while, but we never had a catalyst to push the project forward. My friend, he... uh, lost the use of his right arm. Nerve damage, nothing gruesome! It was something we knew we could fix with this implant. So, after a year of some very late nights, we got the implant working and my friend has full functionality of his arm again – like the injury never happened." Felicity shared, beaming with pride and a more than a few tears making her eyes glisten.

Ellen shook her head, which rest in the palm of her hand now, with awe. "That's truly incredible. Complete functionality?"

Felicity folded her lips between her teeth, nodding twice enthusiastically with a hum. "Crazy right? There were times we didn't think it was ever going to work."

"How did you finally crack it?" Ellen prompted.

Scrunching up her face, Felicity pondered the best way to explain it. "The chip acts like an intermediary between the brain and the damaged tissue, by-passing the damaged nerve pathways so signals from the brain can still reach their intended target. The most troublesome bit was the power source. We struggled to develop a battery that was compatible with such a small chip. Partnering with Ray Palmer, we were finally able to miniaturize a battery and keep it efficient enough to operate for years without replacement."

"Thanks for making that understandable for those of us non-science people." Ellen laughed. "So, what's next? Smoak Technologies develops more than just the implant, but is that the main focus going forward?"

"Mainly." Felicity agreed with a hum. "We still need to figure out a way to make the product mass-producible and cheap, so that's the company's main focus. We're still producing our smart-wearables and advanced alternate reality technology, but the implant is the goal."

Ellen grinned, nodding along with Felicity's words. "Well, I wish you all the best." Ellen changed direction, turning to the camera at the center of the stage. "We're going to take a little break, but when we come back, I'll subject Felicity to your favorite game, Never Have I Ever, so stay tuned!"

                                                         *********

"Welcome back! We still have the delightful Ms. Smoak with us, and she's about to reveal her deepest secrets."

Felicity laughed, fiddling with the paddle with 'I Have' and 'I Have Never' written on separate sides. "I'm afraid I'm probably going to disappoint, Ellen. I'm not as exciting as you all seem to believe."

Ellen gave a hearty laugh at that, even holding her side. "Well, the game will decide that for us. Ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Felicity nodded, her fingers tightening on the paddles slightly. She wasn't provided the questions beforehand, but she took some comfort knowing this was a family show.

"All right, let's see..." Ellen hummed, reading the first question. "Never have I ever been in handcuffs?"

Immediately, Felicity lifted her paddle with the 'I Have' facing the camera earning few calls and whistles among the laughs and gasps at her response. Pausing, the paddle drooped slightly and her eyes went wide as saucers. "Oh my god, wait, no. Not like that! I was arrested once. Oh no, Ellen, I'm not responsible for my answers right." Felicity panicked, mostly because she couldn't stop babbling but also a little at what this would do to her reputation.

Ellen's shock gave way to full blown laughter, bringing tears to her eyes. "Complete discretion, I promise. What happens here, stays here." Ellen comforted, though they both knew that wasn't true, but the mirth in her eyes pulled a laugh from Felicity.

"Phew, good. Wouldn't want it to get out that I'm actually a delinquent." She quipped back, her smile relaxing into a more natural shape.

That had the whole crowd and Ellen laughing. "I knew I liked you." Ellen observed as her laughter quelled. "All right, never have I ever been high."

Again, Felicity raised the paddle with the 'I Have' to the crowd earning another round of shocked gasps and laughter. "Felicity Smoak, you've been hiding some things." Ellen said, her mouth falling open again in amused shock.

"There's a story there! It’s not what you think!" Felicity defended quickly. "I didn't know it, but I had a pot brownie at a college party. I might have enjoyed the high if it hadn't been for the walnuts in the brownies which sent me straight to the hospital." She laughed, recalling the irony of the situation all those years ago.

"Well, that takes all the fun out of it." Ellen laughed. "Um, let's see... never have I ever flirted to get out of a ticket."

Spinning the paddle, it was 'I Have Never' this time. "I swear I'm a good citizen!" Felicity laughed, shaking her head at Ellen's dubious look.

"Okay, okay. Never have I ever sexted." Ellen asked, leaning forward a little with a curious look.

Biting her lip, Felicity fiddled with her paddle a little, flipping it between the two sides. The crowd murmured, the interest in her final answer growing, just like the blush on her cheeks. Finally, she settled on 'I Have.'  

"Mmhmm, good girl, huh?" Ellen teased.

"I am!" Felicity countered. "It was one time!"

Ellen's brows raised, glancing conspiratorially between Felicity and the crowd. "Recently? Maybe with a certain Oliver Queen?"

Felicity stared at Ellen for a moment before laughing. "Oh my gosh. In my dreams maybe, but no, definitely not with him." She denied through her blush. "What gave you that idea?"

Ellen shrugged, that familiar twinkle still in her eyes as she shuffled the cards in her hand. "Ever since the Met Gala a few weeks ago, there's been a lot of speculation. Do we have those photos?" Ellen asked out to her production crew. "Oh, we do! These are... if you haven't seen these, then you must be leaving under a rock, because these two are very cute together." Ellen said towards the camera and crowd.

When Ellen spun to view the big screen behind them, now plastered with the three photos featured in just about every magazine lately, Felicity drew her gaze to them as well. Looking at the photos now, she laughed through her smile.

"You're telling me you're not sexting that?"

That pulled a true laugh from Felicity who shook her head adamantly. "Mr. Queen is certainly attractive, but any straight woman with functioning hormones would agree. I hate to disappoint but he is only a friend. We've met a few times in passing, and we happen to have mutual admiration for each other, but there's nothing beyond that."

Ellen observed her with a slight smile, humming contemplatively. "Well, he doesn't know what he's missing out on, but good news for all your admirers out there. Keep me updated if anything changes." Ellen winked.

Felicity laughed. "You'll be the first to know. I'll make sure you're on the wedding list too."

"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into because I'm holding you to that." Ellen teased before shifting in her seat to face the crowd. "Felicity Smoak, everyone!" Ellen closed with a laugh as the crowd's applause picked up, prompting Felicity to wave to them as her time was up.

My usuals:  @tdgal1 @miriam1779 @almondblossomme @muslimsmoak (HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!) @wherethereissmoak @memcjo @1106angel @hope-for-olicity

[paulisweeabootrash]

First Impression: Noragami

Okay, after that crappy “reviewlet” thing, I'm back with another show I actually feel like saying something interesting about:

Noragami (2014)

Episodes watched: 5.  Or... actually, 14, but this review is only based on the first 5 episodes of season 1.

Yato is a minor god.  A very minor god.  A god who has no worshippers, no shrine, and relies on doing odd jobs for people in exchange for offerings of ¥5, a service which he advertises with graffiti and hand-made business cards.  His Regalia — a human soul who temporarily takes the form of living equipment a god can use — just quit.  Things are looking down for him.

Hiyori Iki is a martial-arts-loving middle schooler who just happens to encounter Yato, whom she, reasonably, believes to be a regular mortal, on the street.  She is hit by a bus while pushing Yato out of its path and gets reincarnated in a fantasy world temporarily separated from her body.  Hiyori, understandably, has some trouble coming to terms with this, especially when Yato explains to her that she is not dead (or, not completely, anyway), but instead in an in-between state where she is able to repeatedly temporarily leave her body.  Much much more to her confusion and horror, her in-between state grants her the ability to see supernatural creatures usually hidden from humans, including Phantoms, eldritch abominations that often appear as psychedelically-colored flying sea creatures and possess humans, both living and dead, to induce them to do bad things.

Hiyori is now stuck between the “Near Shore” (the world of the living) and “Far Shore” (world of the dead) rather than a resident of either, and those from the Far Shore — Phantoms, human souls, and gods alike — will certainly notice this.  Yato and other gods frequently use their Regalia (what is the plural of “Regalia”?  “Regalias”?  That sounds wrong.) to fight Phantoms in addition to (or as part of) answering the prayers of their followers.  Since Yato needs a new Regalia, at this point, I was starting to suspect this will maybe be a quasi-magical-girl premise where Hiyori becomes Yato's new Regalia and then falls for him in a "please don't think about what is at bare minimum a several century age gap" uncomfortable romcom.  But... no.  This show goes in a more complicated and interesting direction than that.

Regalia must be sufficiently pure (and apparently fully-dead) human souls, so Yato, who seems to look down on humans even compared to other gods, simply drafts the first suitable soul he encounters.  That soul, a teen boy with no memory of his Earthly life, whom Yato names Yukine, luckily turns out to be a very talented Regalia and a quick learner, but also frustrated about his death and prone to sinful thoughts (more on that in a moment).  Hiyori takes an interest in Yukine, mainly to take care of him because Yato is certainly not doing that well, but I actually kind of get the impression she's attracted to him, especially given that, unlike Yato, Yukine is approximately her age (or was before he died... it's not clear how long he, or any other Regalia, have been dead).  She also takes an (academic) interest in the supernatural world in general, which is only partly what she expected or imagined, and she becomes a de facto member of Yato and Yukine's "team" as it were.  But also overwhelmed and mainly just wants her soul to be securely re-attached to her body so she'll stop accidentally leaving it at inopportune times — to her friends and family, it appears that she has now been having severe and unpredictable episodes and collapsing and losing consciousness since her bus accident, and she often leaves her body lying around in public without realizing it.  Or, in one case, draped over the top of a fence, which is... not an ideal sleeping location.  Yato vaguely claims he will restore her, but has no idea how to.

So far, the story has focused on the interactions between the three of them and on exploring the setting/what Phantoms are/how the gods work/etc.  This has revealed a fascinating detail which, beyond the scope of the five episodes I took notes on, becomes one of the main arcs of the first season: although the gods are amoral, or at least behave according to a totally different set of standards, they are still affected by human morality.  Morality, says Yato, is socially constructed by humans, but affects the gods vicariously by causing “blight”.  If humans decide an act is sinful, then a Regalia doing that thing causes a blight to both themself and the god they serve which must be ritually cleansed.  Yukine, despite being initially pure enough to become a Regalia, starts to cause blight to Yato because of his jealousy of the still-living and his attraction to Hiyori, and this proves to be... well... you’ll see.

We also learn from Kofuku Ebisu, goddess of bad luck and poverty, that Yato used to be a war god, with a past darker than Hiyori is willing to accept or think about.  He will grant anyone's wishes to remain relevant, and this may come back to endanger people.  Yato is also dating(?) Kofuku, and seems to have had a previous romantic relationship with a Regalia named Nora who served him and gives off a serious yandere vibe.  Or actually (spoilers), as it turns out, not named Nora.  "Nora", we learn, is a derogatory term for an entire category of Regalia: those who serve multiple gods and generally do jobs normal Regalia would refuse.  This, in connection with the whole thing about gods being corrupted by their Regalia violating human-made moral standards, raises a worrying question I hope we get an answer to: do noras corrupt their gods, or are they somehow unable to produce corruption because they themselves do not believe anything they're doing is wrong?  This is the sort of question this show raises, and it seems smart and thorough enough to try to answer it... if it doesn't, there's the ongoing manga series to turn to, and this is yet another show I've enjoyed so much that I might start reading it.

-----

Revised W/A/S Scores: 7 / 3 / 3 / !

Weeb: Pretty high on this scale mainly because of its very Shinto background, including very specific patron deities of concepts, gods physically residing in shrines, its specific forms of prayer, the dead just sort of... wandering and acting like still-live humans, and of course the presence of shrine maidens because how can you not have shrine maidens?

Ass: Occasional nudity, but not fanservicey.  Ep. 2, for example, has partial nudity in situations like contemplating in bath and locker room that are not framed sexually but probably would be in a different tone of show.

Shit (writing): I have a weirdly specific translation complaint (because of course I do).  I accidentally learned via Wikipedia that "nora" means "stray", and this seems like information that maybe should've been dropped in the subtitles at some point?  It might actually have made the reveal about what "a nora" is work better in English than in the original Japanese because this meaning would be a surprise to the English subtitle-reading audience.  Anyway, enough about that.  I find the characters enjoyable and their arcs pretty believable.  A main plot conflict between Yato and the nora is clearly forming by the end of the five episodes I cover here, and I'll cheat a bit to say that the first season successfully plays out two story threads while leaving others open for the next season, but not in a cliffhanger or "we clearly didn't know how to wrap this up" way.  An advantage of adapting a popular ongoing manga, I suppose: you can pace things better and also be reasonably sure that there's enough interest to get you another season.

Shit (other): Pretty ending, meh opening.  Great reaction faces.  Moods are accentuated well by variations in the art and animation.  I love the design of the Phantoms because I'm a sucker for surreal depictions of the supernatural.  It's not as dramatically bizarre and imaginative as, say, the witches in Madoka Magica, but still excellent.

Content warning: It is a recurring point that the gods' duties include saving people from suicide, and multiple suicide attempts are depicted (although they are thwarted by divine intervention by Yato).

-----

Stray observations:

- Yato starts out appearing to be a magnificent bastard, but it becomes apparent quickly that... uh... maybe he’s just an asshole.  

- I have no idea why, but Yato sneaking into Hiyori's house and mirroring her dad's actions is one of the funniest things I've seen recently.

- You'd think at some point Hiyori would develop a plan, or at least a cover story, for abandoning her body, even if she remains unable to control when she leaves it.  Not to mention that she'd sometimes come back to an injured body or find that someone has moved her or called an ambulance or something.

- The background music includes rap in English with autotune, which is... surprising, but neither good nor bad.

- This setting raises the same set of troubling questions about the concept of an afterlife that a lot of afterlife concepts do, since it appears that people are "frozen" at the age they were when they died but also have the ability to learn (and later, outside the set of episodes I covered here, to mature mentally at least somewhat)... do child Regalia or children's souls in general ever mentally mature in the same way that real children do as they ender adolescence and adulthood?  Are there baby ghosts hanging around with no concept that they are dead, unable to ever gain that concept because they will never age?  (I feel like this is turning into a literary criticism of religion, and that's waaaay outside the scope of this blog, so I'll end this here.)

[alluringholland]

the good die young, but so did this #5 | t.h.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, alcoholism, drug abuse, manipulation, an all around bad time

part 5: sorry (previous)

“I've missed your calls for months it seems/Don't realize how mean I can be/’Cause I can sometimes treat the people/That I love like jewelry”

Present day.

His name was Derek. He was a positive, happy person. I mean like, he believed in fairy tale happy endings, and he believed in soulmates. He was optimistic. He could see the best in you, even when you were at your worst.

I kind of hated that about him.

When we first met, I made it clear that I was trouble and not worth getting to know. Of course, that only reeled him in and he wanted to know what lied behind my mysterious exterior. He's not ugly, so I let him in for that night. Then, I just lost the ability to say no when he asked me out on am actual date. It went on for a little bit, maybe six months or so. In hindsight, it wasn't the best thing to do on my part.

I wasn't really happy with him, even though I logically should have been. If I shut him out, he waited until I was ready. If I ignored him because I was stuck in my own head, he didn’t interrogate me and pester me for information. He brought me coffee when I was doing a shoot. He took me on day trips to the beach. He got me fidget toys and books that would help me combat my rapidly developing social anxiety.

The closer he got, the more I wanted to run. So that’s what I did.

Being me, it was over a text. However, he wasn’t having any of it, so we met up outside my apartment building. To say I wasn’t expecting him to cry was an understatement.

“I just don’t think I’m good for you,” I said simply, unable to look him in the eyes. Maybe I should cry too, so it could look like it hurt me too.

“That’s your excuse?” he said back, voice trembling.

“Do you want a list? I thought you could see everything that’s wrong with me!” I told him, genuinely confused as to why he couldn’t see it my way. “I never call you, you’re always planning the dates, I’m really closed off, I don’t like to do the things you like to do.”

“Well, there’s always time to work on that! I know you’ve got things going on, but that doesn’t mean that this can’t work.” He stepped towards me, offering his hands. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”

I took a step back, folding my arms. “It was never you. Everything is on me.”

Derek scoffed. “Are you really pulling that card?”

Now it just felt like everything I was saying was the wrong thing. How could I get him to leave me alone?

“You’ll find someone better, trust me.”

“I don’t want anyone else!”

How in the shit-

“Can you just ignore the negative thoughts in your head for one moment and just let someone take care of you?” Derek asked, frustrated.

No. I guess I can’t.

“I just need to be by myself for a while,” I concluded.

“You're just shutting yourself away!” he snapped. “You think you can do things by yourself but you can't! You're never gonna be happy if you don't let people in!”

I have let one person in. It backfired horribly.

One thing I liked about Derek was that he wasn't consumed by the toxicity of Hollywood. He was a nobody from a small town in Northern California. He was never interested in celebrity gossip and pop culture. The only thing he used the Internet for was Netflix and video games. Long story short, he didn't hear about my “scandals” through the grapevine, he heard them from me. I thought it would drive him away, but instead it just made him stay, and I didn't get it.

But if he had some inkling on who I was or who my ex was, it would be easier to understand why I was doing this. It bothered me that I knew why I was doing this. I guess Barb was right: I shouldn't have thrown myself into dating so soon. All I've done now is hurt a person who didn't deserve it.

~

4 years ago.

“I still have feelings for my ex. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. Please don't contact me again.”

As soon as I sent that text, I grabbed my wallet and car keys and threw my hungover ass out the door. My heart was beating like it had just come back to life. I got in the car and pulled out of the driveway, hauling ass to the hotel I was supposed to go to.

It had been a long four months of being… mostly single. My heart had been shattered when Tom called and decided that he didn't want to do the long distance thing anymore. Of course there was crying and yelling, if he had been within my reach I would have thrown something at him. It was sudden and painful to know that the thing that kept me going wasn't there anymore.

What did I do? Publicly, I went through a dramatic change in style. I cut my hair, wore darker makeup, and I did a Playboy photoshoot butt naked. I walked in Paris Fashion Week. I was booking more and more projects than I ever had. Privately, I went to the closest bar and let someone put their hands all over my body. I woke up in a different stranger's bed almost every morning until one particular stranger stuck around. Their name was erased from my brain as soon as Tom messaged me saying he wanted to see me.

My mind was cloudy from leftover liquor and thoughts of Tom, making it hard to focus on the road. Several people honked at me, to which I stuck my middle finger out the window. My phone was buzzing like crazy, and I wasn't sure if it was my new ex, my old ex, or Nancy. I was too anxious to check, until I was at a stoplight.

I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and looked at the notifications. A short text from the new ex. “Ok lol let me know when you're over it.” Then the light turned green.

I still looked through my phone as I drove. Nancy sent me a voice clip.

“Why did you leave your house? You're supposed to stay out of the public eye for now. Call me when you can.”

Oh yeah, I had a bit of a “scandal” not too long ago. I drank too much at a bar and yelled some obscenities at the same time someone had their phone camera on. My “poised and professional” image was tainted, so the best option was to just stay under the radar. I wasn't good at following the rules, so Nancy got access to the security cameras outside my house, and if I did anything reckless, she would call someone to handle me.

Today was one of those days, but I had a valid reason.

“Tom is in town! I have to see him!” I yelled into my phone as I swerved in and out of lanes. “I'm also a little hungover, so let it be know that I'll probably die for the dick!”

Hopefully it would be good news to Nancy that I'm linking up with someone who was the epitome of purity and goodness in the eyes of practically the entire world. It would either make me look better or Tom look bad. Either way, people would be talking about us. None of this was real, right?

I got to the hotel. Tom had told me over text that someone would be waiting for me in the lobby. I parked and got out of the car. If anyone had followed me, then it would be known in a few hours that Tom Holland and his ex girlfriend were seen together at his hotel in Los Angeles.

That didn't matter.

A security guard in the lobby recognized me, and he escorted me to the top floor of the hotel. My heart was stuck in my throat, and my stomach was turning uncomfortably. Holy shit, this was happening.

The security guard opened the door for me, and I stepped inside the room. I almost vomited out my heart and lungs just from seeing Tom sat in the armchair across the room. I stepped towards him, trying and failing to keep myself calm and collected. My nerves were painted all over my face.

I walked down the small hallway, passing the bathroom. I was at a loss for words.

Tom looked at me, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. He stood up and walked towards me as well.

The bathroom door opened from behind me, acting as the record scratch to kill the moment. I turned around to find a beautiful woman who I instantly recognized emerging from the toilet.

She was in sweats, her curly hair in an unkempt bun, and not a spec of makeup was on her face. She was stunning and radiated beauty. Her presence also made my stomach drop down to my feet and my blood run cold.

Zendaya was just as surprised to see me, given that she stopped dead in her tracks. Her pretty eyes went wide, and she just stood there for a second. Surely she had to know who I was. She had to know what this meant.

She quickly composed herself. “Alright, I'm out.” And she turned on her heel and left the room.

As soon as the door shut, I turned back to Tom. He had a guilty look on his face.

“What was the point of getting me over here?” I asked, feeling dumber and dumber by the second.

“I miss you,” he told me.

“Why was she here?”

“She's my friend.”

I narrowed my eyes. I looked at the bed, the unmade sheets. Then I practically dived for the mattress, which made Tom go a little crazy.

“No!” he yelled as he grabbed me around the waist.

I reached for something to get away, but I only got ahold of the duvet. I thrashed and tried to elbow my way out of his hold, but he was strong. The duvet was pulled back as Tom manhandled me, and I saw what I needed to see.

A tiny bit of red lace under the sheets said more than enough.

“You cheated!” I cried out. “You fucking cheated!”

Tom pushed me against the wall, trying to hold my flailing arms down. “Hey, hey, listen to me!”

“You asshole! You piece of shit!” I yelled in his face. I angrily pounded on his chest with my fists, tears coming out of my eyes.

He grabbed my wrists and cornered me. “Shut up!”

That worked. I froze in my place, now feeling small and trapped.

“I did not cheat, we've been broken up, remember?” he said harshly. “I called you here to tell you that I live here now, and I wanted to work things out.”

I sniffed and tilted my head. “H-Here?”

“Well, not here. My flat isn't ready yet, not for another day. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I've missed you, and I shouldn't have let you go.”

“You're so full of shit. You expect me to believe that when you've got Zendaya’s underwear in your bed?!”

He didn't try to deny it. “What, like you haven't slept with anyone else? She was the only one!”

“So you basically moved on.”

“I tried, but I couldn't. I made a mistake.” He loosened his grip on my arms, and his expression softened. “I love you, only you. I understand if you don't believe me, but it's true. I just want to be with you.”

He gave me those puppy eyes and kissed my hands. He brought my hands to his chest, making me feel his heartbeat.

“I don't believe you,” I said honestly. That was the most honest I would be today.

Why would he want me again? What was it about me that made him pick me over every other person he's probably seen? I wasn't anything worth fighting for. He made that clear only a few months ago.

Tom leaned in and softly kissed my cheek. “Please…” He kissed my jaw. “What do I have to do?”

“Stop talking to her,” I said without missing a beat. I hadn’t even finished the thought before it spilled out of my mouth.

That made him lean back, surprised. “Seriously?”

“I know. I don't like being against other women but… if I see you with her again… I don't know what I'll do.” I paused. “And you can't go out to bars and places like that unless I'm with you.”

“Babe, come on…” He took a step back and thought for a second. “If I can't hang out with my friends, then you're not allowed to hang out with Nessa.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Don't give me that look. She's got you doing all sorts of stupid shit!”

“Oh, like you've never done stupid shit with your friends!”

“Well, I can't anymore because I'm not allowed!”

I pushed him away. It was pointless to come here.

“Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't do it!” Tom called after me as I walked towards the door. When I ignored him, he went after me.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall again. This time, he kissed me on the mouth. For a split second, I fought back, not wanting anything to do with him. But he was just so enticing and delicious that my body quickly gave in, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I did miss the feeling, after all. There was nobody like Tom.

Next thing I knew, he was lifting me up by my legs and holding me up against the wall. His hips fit perfectly against mine, and his touch was getting a lot more addicting. I gripped the back of his head with one hand and dug my nails into his back with the other, not wanting to let go. His hands felt up my ass and pulled me in even closer. I missed this, I missed it when it was from Tom.

But then he stopped. He put me down and stepped back. He was breathless, but he looked at the floor.

“Why…?” I whispered, now left wanting more. Was this not what I came here for?

“Let’s save this for when I’m in my new place,” he suggested. “This room has gone through enough as it is.”

I glanced at the bed behind him. I could still see the red lace. Now I could understand why these things happened. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything, simple as that. He did what he had to do to move on, but it seems that it didn’t work, and that was baffling. Why would he pick me over someone like Zendaya?

“So, where are we at now?” I asked.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?” he replied.

“Good idea.” Everything he said sounded like a good idea.

~

I went back home with the promise that I would see him later. My legs felt like jelly as I walked through my front door, and my head was spinning with lovesickness. For the first time in a while, I felt content. I had a smile on my face as I threw my shoes off and dropped my bag on the floor.

I went out to the backyard and sat by the pool, scrolling on my phone. The outside world - cyber and physical - seemed so weird now that my little world with Tom was building up again. It was like nothing else mattered.

I felt a small snap of reality when Nessa texted me. My stomach sank a little bit because I remembered the deal I had made. So now I was stuck with a choice.

“We still on for tonight??”

What happening tonight? What was I supposed to tell her? I tried to type, but the screen froze and my phone grew hot. Then, the device restarted on itself, leaving me with the black Apple screen.

“God decided for me, I guess,” I said as I placed my phone on table.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on my front door, followed by it opening. I sat up, completely distracted from my thoughts, and I watched Nancy and Charlotte enter the vicinity. Neither of them looked happy. In fact, they both looked incredibly pissed off.

“You are an irresponsible woman with no regard for the rules!” Charlotte yelled. Guess there was no time for a greeting. “You had specific instructions to not leave the property and what do you do? You get photographed outside Tom Holland's hotel in West Hollywood! Not only that, you were also seen almost causing a crash on the 405! Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“I have a boyfriend again,” I replied softly.

The two women looked at each other for a moment.

“You're talking about Tom?” Nancy asked, and I nodded. “And you didn't consult with us? If you wanted to do another PR-”

“It's not PR!” I snapped as I stood up from the couch. “Some of these relationships in Hollywood are real, you know! He wanted to see me!”

Nancy was about to retort, but her phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the screen. “Ah, it's your boyfriend's publicist! Can't wait for this conversation!” She answered and went into the kitchen.

“You were supposed to wait for the public to stop talking about the bar incident before stepping outside again,” Charlotte scolded. “You were supposed to speak to one of us before leaving!”

I shrugged. If I hadn't gone to the hotel, what would have happened? Tom probably would have continued to fuck Zendaya, and maybe I would have slept the whole day.

“He's a sweetheart and I have to look better in front of the world,” I said simply. Maybe if I put it in her terms, she would come around. “It'll work. And if not, he and I can see each other privately.”

“But you've already seen each other publicly, that's the problem!”

I rolled my eyes. Enough was enough. “Someone loves me! Tom still loves me! I'm not just gonna give that up!”

“God, you're just as irrational as you were the day he left you,” Charlotte grumbled.

At that moment, the rage boiled over and I was a hair away from slapping her across the face. My hand jerked halfway up to do so, but Nancy entered the room again, cutting the tension.

“I have some things to go over,” she announced, oblivious to the air in the room.

“What'd they say?” I asked, masking my anger.

“They think yours and Tom's reputations balance each other out. You'll make him look more mature and grown, and he'll make you look responsible and down-to-earth,” she explained. “There will be a couple of PR outings where the two of you will act like friends and nothing more. We'll leave the rest for the fans to speculate.”

“Well, I'm seeing him either way, so…” I mumbled.

“But you need to behave yourself in public. No more bars and parties, alright?” Nancy said with a warning tone.

“Got it.”

_____

next.

[sosaidthedragon]

Oshogastu

(In honor of it being the new year, have a sappy, somewhat New Year’s themed one shot. Oshogatsu, by the way, is the Japanese New Year holiday/festival.)

Guy X OC

Rated E

For three days, Konoha was home to one of the world’s largest New Year’s festivals. Tourists flocked to the village from all over not only the Land of Fire, but other neighboring countries, in order to enjoy the specialty foods and festivities the village had become famous for over the years. Genin decorated homes with beautiful ornaments and strung warm, decorative lights throughout the main thoroughfares, where merchants rented storefronts or opened stalls to ply their wares.

Mitsume hadn’t been able to attend the festival since her days in the Academy. It seemed fate always conspired to see to it she was away on a mission of one sort or another whenever the holiday came around, returning home in time to see the vendors packing up and genin cleaning trash off the streets. For once, however, she had managed to avoid being saddled with any such mission – largely because Tsunade hadn’t cleared her to return to active duty, but she was free, nonetheless.

Unexpectedly, Guy was as well. He had actually been given a week long mission to the Land of Waves, however, Kakashi had kindly volunteered to take the escort mission instead, claiming he was going stir crazy after two weeks in the hospital himself. Even Tsunade had realized what he was doing, and once he and Guy – who was sobbing and thanking his rival for his sacrifice – had finally left her office, she had handed Mitsume a few ryo to buy Kakashi some sweets for his return, since he would have to leave before the festival actually started.

The hardest part about getting ready was prying Guy away from his rival, which took not only Mitsume but Lee, Neji, and Naruto - after Lee stopped crying about how beautiful it was for Kakashi to give Guy the opportunity to spend New Years with his loved ones, anyway. She still had the kimono her mother gave her a couple of years ago, the one made of dark purple silk, that she hadn’t yet had an occasion to wear, hanging in a clothing bag in her closet, beside the montsuki hakama Guy tended to forget he owned. She briefly thought about trying to get him to wear it, but it was a bit too formal for a festival, and it was generally not a good idea for Guy to not wear pants in public.

They had both learned that one the hard way – four years later and they still weren’t allowed back to that restaurant. Or that bath house.

It was really just better for everyone if he wore his jumpsuit.

After a fair bit of struggling to get everything to lay properly, she stepped out into the living room, where Guy was waiting. His hands were tucked behind his back, and his cheeks had a suspicious red tint to them – combined with the fact he was staring at his feet told her he was up to something. She would have thought that, after four years together and nearly ten more of him chasing her, he would have gotten over being shy about something as simple as giving her a gift, but he still acted exactly as he had that first time he asked her out in the school yard when they were kids.

He lifted his eyes briefly, looking her over from toe to head, his tan face growing even darker before his gaze traveled swiftly back to the floor, and his hands suddenly shot forward. Held tightly in one fist was a boquet of flowers, their stems half-crushed by the pressure – anemone, lavender, and forge-me-not blossoms were among the ones she recognized immediately, though there were several more she couldn’t immediately identify. In the other he held a piece of paper, folded into a lover’s knot, or what one looked like after a nervous Might Guy held onto it for too long.

“Arara,” She drawled in surprise, carefully tugging the items free. “What’s this now?”

Laying the flowers down on the table, she carefully unfolded the note, revealing the poem on the inside. It didn’t quite look like Guy’s handwriting, mostly because it was actually legible, and there was a wiggling in the lines that almost made it look like he’d been trembling when he wrote it.

Passionate heart

Soft touch of a flower

In its fullest bloom

For a moment, she wracked her brain to try and remember if she had ever heard that particular haiku before, but no author sprang to mind. Curious if he had put the author at the bottom, she unfolded the bottom seam, only for something to tumble out. She caught it without thinking, not quite recognizing the small, round item in her hand by sensation alone, but before she could figure it out, Guy stole all of her attention.

“I wrote that.”

Guy still had his head bowed down, fists clenched and trembling at his sides. He was clearly uncomfortable, eyes screwed up tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally look at her, something he only ever did when he was about to do or say something he was seriously worried someone wouldn’t approve of.

“Back in the academy,” He continued. “When Joben-sensei asked me to deliver some forms to Keitaro-sensei, I saw a girl, sitting in the front row of his class, and she was so beautiful I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. I didn’t know her name, but I knew the moment I saw her, she was the only one I would ever want to be with. So I promised myself, if I didn’t confess to her the next day, I would do three hundred laps around the school yard, and I wrote that poem intending to give it to her. But I lost my nerve, so while I was running those laps, I promised myself if I didn’t confess the next day, I would do three hundred and ten laps around the school yard.”

She could remember that day clearly, although she never much thought about it. Keitaro-sensei had been droning on, as he so often did, and she had begun to drift off, listing off everything she could be doing that was more worthwhile than listening to Keitaro-sensei’s endless monologue. She hadn’t even noticed an upperclassman had entered the room, until Keitaro-sensei started telling him off for getting distracted, and she only managed to briefly glimpse a boy in a bright green jumpsuit fleeing the room as fast as he could manage.

“Although I did find the strength to confess, I was never strong enough to give her that poem, not even after she returned my affection. I’ve carried that note in my pocket every day since then, for almost twenty years, trying to work up the nerve. This morning, I made myself a promise that today would be the day I would finally give her that poem.”

As he finished speaking, she turned her hand upward and looked at the item she had caught. It was a ring, with a band made of silver and gold that swirled together like the marks in a wooden board, with a single, almost flower shaped diamond. Just as she began to comprehend what she was seeing, Guy’s massive hands took hold of hers, and pulled them towards his chest as he dropped onto one knee. He had apparently lost his battle with his tears, because they streamed heavily down his face, though he had finally managed to open his eyes, staring at her with obvious determination.

“Kedamonoshu Mitsume, please, do me the great honor of saying you’ll marry me.”

After a little more than a week on the road, Kakashi was relieved to see the familiar skyline of Konoha appear at before him. Hands in his pockets, he slowly made his way towards his apartment, taking every back road he knew of to avoid his students so he could get some much needed rest. This route just so happened to take him past the training grounds his “eternal rival’s” girlfriend often used with her genin squad, and he stopped to watch for a few moments as she put the kids through their paces, much to their displeasure.

Judging by the sweat, scratches, and general wear and tear, they’d been running drills since early that morning. The fact none of them had collapsed into an exhausted heap begging for a merciful death, however, told him she was probably in a good mood, though her scowl would have made most people think otherwise. She spotted him across the field, and motioned him to come over, something he did with great reluctance and a heavy sigh – he could just keep going, but then she would probably just sick her genin on him, and he’d spend the next week dealing with the little demons annoying him in unfathomable ways.

Some of his underwear were still pink, and he had yet to find a certain novel from his collection – he suspected it wasn’t so much hidden as one of the boys on her team had taken it and wasn’t about to give it back, but he had yet to figure out which one.

“How was your mission?” She asked conversationally, never taking her eyes off her students.

“Ah, pretty quiet, actually. We saw a few bandits on the road, but that’s about it. Did you enjoy the festival?”

“Yeah, it was pretty nice. Guy won a goldfish – we let Lee pick the name.”

“What did he decide?”

“Hire, The Great Hot-Blooded Golden Fish of Konoha.”

He resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment, and instead just rolled his lips between his teeth and gave a short series of affirmative grunts. She seemed to know exactly what was going through his mind, the corner of her lip twitching as she fought a smile, before she changed the subject, reaching into one of her inner vest pockets. She produced a large but thin boxes, which was wrapped in a bright blue piece of fabric, which was littered with an obnoxious number of cartoon cats. It was tied off with a bright yellow ribbon, and festooned with what he suspected was actually a hair tie, with a plastic white cat face attached to it.

“Here. Guy made sure we got all your favorites. We even got some specialty dog treats for Pakkun and the other ninken.”

Absolutely not to his surprise, the jubako itself was also primarily decorated with cats – even less surprising was the fact that nearly every cake and candy had been painstakingly carved or shaped into cat faces or paw prints. Silently contemplating his revenge, he snapped the lid back on the box, tied it back together, and stuck it into his pocket before accepting the three other smaller, plain packages.

As he did so, he caught a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. Although her focus was on her students, there was no question she had noticed his stare, as the smile she had been resisting finally broke through, tilting the corners of her mouth. Not unexpectedly, this mild display of emotion in front of her students immediately made her uncomfortable, and she slugged him in the arm as she walked towards the trio, who had apparently decided it was time to stand up to their sensei by sitting down.

“By the way, you might want to swing by the bookstore on your way home.”

“What did you do now?”

“I didn’t do anything. Guy, on the other hand, may have gotten wind that the ninja who so kindly gave up the opportunity to enjoy the New Year’s festival for his benefit has a little crush on a certain red-headed employee. He’s gotten it into his head that the best way to thank this kindly ninja for his help is to set the two of them up on a date.”

“You monster.”

“The new year is a time for change, Hatake. Besides – Guy and Lee worked really hard on that banner.”

[life-n-times-rastaiza]

Fired from First Job

In preparation for senior year of high school I went through the phone book calling every doctor, physical therapist , and dentist's office I could find. Each time explaining that I was interested in going into the medical field after college and as part of graduation requirements I needed an internship. After many rejections I hit the jackpot. Proper Care Physical Therapy was open to the idea of an intern, but was actually looking to hire a Physical Therapist Aide and asked me if I was interested.

This is going to be my first job. I’m not only fulfilling my internship requirement for graduation, but I’m also getting paid! I’m going to buy a car, I’m going to take my boyfriend on dates, and I’m gaining experience for a real job one day. I was so excited, but also terrified. What if I hate this job? What if I don’t like the people I will be working with? What if this interferes with my schoolwork? My biggest fear of them all, what if they find out I’m gay?

I tried to shake that fear from my head. I don’t want to believe the world is truly homophobic, especially not in socially liberal New Jersey. I will be fine. This is my personal life anyway. I’m going to go in, do my job, and keep my personal life to myself. I have nothing to fear.

A month went by and I was getting closer to my work friends. Of course I was always asked if I had a girlfriend, or if I was going on a date with any girls over the weekend. I was always able to veer the conversation another way. I was busy with school work, and I’m a total nerd, of course I don’t go on dates or have a girlfriend. I hated lying. I was in the middle of my coming out process. I was out to all my friends and was working on getting the courage to come out to my parents. I wanted to live more openly, but I couldn’t risk my job. I bought a car so I needed the money and I needed this to count as my internship to graduate. Everything was kept a secret and I had no fear they would find out until I met a certain patient.

From the moment I saw her, I could tell this woman was a total fag hag and the moment she saw me her gaydar was on full alert. We made eye contact and I instantly turned red. Her smirk told me everything, “What a cute gay boy, I’m going to have fun with him!”

As luck would have it, she was assigned as my patient. I introduced myself and guided her to a room. She immediately started toying with me. She was complimenting every aspect of my appearance, and with each compliment asking me about girls in my life.  “You’re so handsome, i’m sure you drive the girls crazy. You have wonderful lips, how many girls have you kissed? You have great hair, do you like when girls play with your hair?” I turned a darker shade of red with each question. I was being polite, thanking her, and doing my best to breathe properly. To make matters worse, my boss walks in the room and gives this patient a hug. I learn they’ve been friends since high school. My secret is now on full display and it feels like my whole world is about to shatter.

I am now seeing the patient weekly, with each visit playing the same game. Toying with me for a reaction. As I get more comfortable with the patient I start playing her game, answering her questions without using gender nouns. Never confirming her suspicions about my homosexuality, but never denying it either. I start feeling more comfortable about coming out at work in general. I was thinking if my boss is friends with her, he can’t be truly homophobic. Maybe I should come out. The next time I’m asked about girlfriends maybe I should just tell them all I’m gay. I was still afraid to ruin my job, I couldn’t trust people at work yet, but I know I could trust that patient. It’s obvious she loves the gays and I’m getting tired of having to dodge all the girlfriend questions. The patient comes in one day, and starts her game with me. This time I say firmly, “I don’t have a girlfriend, and you know why I don’t have a girlfriend.”

She understood what I meant and after a few moments of silence she replies, “I know honey, I was just having fun with you. I wanted you to tell me the truth. You’re so cute and so young, I love when people your age have the confidence to be themselves.” She apologized for ever making me feel uncomfortable. I let her know I was proud of who I am, I was out to friends, and was lucky to be in a loving relationship. I let her know I wanted to have work boundaries because I was afraid of what reaction I would get and how important this position was to me. She understood and finally started a conversation that didn’t involve dating or girls.

I was so relieved after this conversation. I had nothing to worry about now and can continue keeping my personal life to myself. The next day at work I felt something was off. I felt like I was being micromanaged as if my boss was looking for a way to get me in trouble. I feared the patient told him my secret, but would stop myself before the paranoia truly kicked in. She wouldn’t do it anyway. We had a mutual understanding. She was a straight ally, but they have been friends for years. Maybe she doesn’t even know how homophobic my boss is. No, I can’t think that. She would keep my secret, this has to just be a bad day. This bad day would turn into a bad two and a half weeks. I was being yelled at for everything, given extra work, forced to stay late. It was terrible. I was really hating my job and was falling back on school work. I decided to take a day off. I asked a co-worker to cover my shift and went to my boss to tell him. I was only giving a day notice, but with my shift covered I didn’t think this would be a big deal. This was just the little mistake of mine my boss was looking for.

I walked into the Physical Therapist’s office and told him I was going to take the next day off, and my shift was covered. After the request he just went off on me, yelling and cursing, calling me unprofessional, telling me I was a terrible employee. I have never been spoken to like that before and I couldn’t help but cry. I cried as he yelled just inches away from my face. He shoved me out of his office, told me to go to calm down in the bathroom and finish my shift. When I return from the bathroom, everyone could tell something was wrong. Aside from hearing the screams from the office, my eyes were bloodshot from crying. A patient asked the Physical Therapist what was wrong with me and a coworker heard him tell the patient that I was probably on drugs. I was so angry and at a loss of what to do. I excused myself again to call my father. They knew each other a little bit from my dad’s business. My father just encouraged me to be strong and patient and assured me everything was going to be okay. I finished my shift without further problems, the next day I took the day off as planned, and came in the following day as usual.

The Physical Therapist comes into the office and greets everyone by name, except mine. He allows me to clean and prepare the patient rooms and gym for the day. When I was done he calls me into his office and starts going off on me again. Yelling, cursing, and firing me. I kept my composure, I knew this was coming and went around to say bye to everyone. During my goodbyes I heard him yell from the office “Is he fucking gone yet? If he’s not fucking gone I’m calling the cops and telling them that he’s trespassing! Get him the fuck out of here!”

I was so confused and angry about the whole situation. Why did this man hate me so much? I wanted to forget it as best as I could and would keep my mind busy whenever I would start to think about it. Luckily, I completed enough hours for the internship to count towards graduation and was able to pay off my used car. This horrible situation was out of my head until i was going off to college. My dad wanted to speak to me before move in day. A few months prior I finally worked up the courage to tell my parents, and now considered myself fully out of the closet. I was actually very surprised by my father’s reaction. He took it rather well and did not seemed surprised as my mother was. I go to my dad’s room for this talk he wants to have. He warns me about being open about my sexuality. I tell him that times are different now, people are more open, there’s nothing to be scared of, being out isn’t going to affect me negatively. Then he reminds me how I was fired so brutally from my first job. He reminded me how much my former boss hated me and lets me know that he called the Physical Therapist a day after my firing.

“Hello, this is Edgar, Randy’s father. He told me what happened yesterday, is everything okay? I know you’re a good man and maybe you are just having a bad day. Can you talk to my son and hopefully offer him his job back?”

The Physical Therapist replied, “Your son is a fucking faggot, and I don’t want a fucking faggot working for me.” He hung up to phone and my father never heard or saw him again.

I was in shock. It all made sense and I knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe some people are so homophobic that they will just hate me for it. It didn’t matter if I was a good employee or not, he hated me anyway and was looking for any excuse to get me out of there.

This all happened many years ago and I would like to think it no longer bothers me, but it does. Before hearing the truth about this story I was the type of person that holds their boyfriend's hand in public without giving it thought, but now there is always a small fear. A fear to be bullied, hated, and bashed for being out. I hate that I carry this fear with me.

I was just walking home from my friend’s house and during my walk saw two men walk past me holding hands. I thought it was beautiful. They either have no fear or just have the courage to be themselves. This helps me find my own courage. Thank you for everyone that lives out and proud and I hope my first job experience never prevents me from living this way too.

The picture above is the actual name tag i used to wear. I have kept it with me through all these years for some reason and I hate it. I don’t want to carry around this fear with me anymore, and I’m hoping when I do find a boyfriend that I will have the courage to hold his hand as we walk on the beach at night like those two men had tonight.

Live out, live proud, and love yourselves.

[elainesknight]

A Roman Drabble Prompt that might be fun: Fulvia and Clodia meet for the first time, and instantly like each other (platonically or otherwise).

Hello, it is me, the fastest writer in history bringing you the story for this prompt only two eternities later. 

As Fulviamade her way through Celer’s house she tried valiantly to look calm. So far ithad all been quite normal. She had gone to the house accompanied by her newhusband, a picture of an honorable roman matron. The doorkeeper had treated herwith respect even after Claudius had fled the building muttering somehalf-hearted excuse. That had been the first time Fulvia had sensed some obscuredread inside her chest. Claudius was no coward – she would not have married himif he had shown such weakness – but for some reason he had expressed the strongwish to not be present when she first met his famous sister, Claudia.

Insteadof accompanying her to the quarters of the mistress of the house himself, thedoorkeeper had called for a slave girl and ordered her to bring Fulvia to herlady. Fulvia watched the slim figure of the slave with some interest as thegirl walked in front of her trying her best to appear demure even though sheclearly had the lead. The slave girls a woman kept with her often said muchabout the mistress herself. There were the insecure ones who only hired uglygirls as they could not bear the thought to be overshadowed by a pretty slavein the eyes of the public. (Or their husbands’.) There were the strange oneslike the renowned Aurelia Cotta, famous for many reasons, but also because shehad chosen a giant German woman as her first personal slave. And there was ClaudiaPulchra who obviously did not fear any kind of competition from her servants,for the girl who lead Fulvia was of an almost ethereal beauty, tall and slimwith curly dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. She looked, thought Fulvia whohad more poetry to her than most people assumed, like a Greek water nymph. Mostslave women who possessed some kind of beauty had a tendency to be vain andunruly, always trying to win the favor of the steward - or the master if theywere also ambitious. Claudia’s girl was the complete opposite. She had givenFulvia a kind smile and always kept a pleasant expression on her face. Herhands were folded in front of her body and she moved with subtle submissivegrace worthy of the servant of a queen. The slave girl made Fulvia feel evenmore insecure, a feeling that was new and strange for her. 

“My mistress awaits you” said the girl quietly and Fulvia noticed that they hadreached a door hung with beautiful light pink curtains that moved softly withthe winds from the garden. The slave waited patiently for her answer and Fulviarealized with a start that the girl was probably used to the nervousness peopledisplayed in front of her mistress. She gathered her wits and nodded to theservant. She was the heiress of the Gracchi – she would not be thrown offbalance by this woman, no matter what.

Fulvia wasthrown off balance. They had walked into the room and Fulvia had only had a short moment to marvelat the richness and tastefulness of the furnishings when the slave girl hadannounced her presence. “Mistress, the lady Fulvia is here.” “Thank you, Andromache. You may leave us alone” Claudia had said and Fulvia’slast coherent thought had been that this was definitely not the slave girl’sreal name.  Claudia was alone in the room. She was lying on her side on a huge couch andshe was the most fascinating woman Fulvia had ever seen. Beautiful, yes, shedefinitely deserved the cognomen of her family. She was not dressed as a romanmatron who expected guests was supposed to be dressed. Her hair was not done upin one of the latest fashion trends but instead it fell in luxurious curls aroundher shoulders. Where Claudius’ hair was brightly red, Claudia’s hair was morelike ember – dark red with golden strands illuminated by the soft light thatstreamed in from the windows behind her. Her eyes were green, not unlike thoseof her brother, but again darker and with hints of gold. She wore a simple whitegown with only a few selected pieces of expensive golden jewelry. As she lookedup at Fluvia, a small triumphant smile on her lips, she looked like Venusherself. 

For a second Fulvia - raised with the notion that women could only grow less desirablewith age – asked herself how old she was. Claudia was her husband’s oldersister after all. But then again Helen of Troy had not been a young womaneither. Fulvia knew that she was staring but Claudia was clearly used to it. “What do you think? Would my face be enough to start a war?” asked Claudia andreminded Fulvia of a lioness watching her prey. But Fulvia smiled. “That’s why you called her Andromache. Is Helen of Troy the association youwant to evoke in your visitors?” she asked and for a moment Claudia seemed tobe taken aback. Then she suddenly broke into laughter and clapped her hands. “Oh, wonderful! I already like you!” she said and turned into a simple mortalin front of Fulvia’s eyes. Still beautiful, still vaguely intimidating but waymore approachable. Fulvia felt more at ease. Claudia raised herself into a comfortable sitting position and lightly gesturedfor Fulvia to take a seat next to her. “Oh, I’m glad you called me out, my new sister. It does get terriblyuncomfortable lying like that for a longer time” said Claudia, good humorglittering in her eyes. Fulvia laughed as she took a seat. “I imagine. But why Helen of Troy? She strikes me as a deeply unhappy woman.” Claudia raised a perfect eyebrow and looked at Fulvia with a new sort ofinterest. “She was, I have no doubt. Do I not strike you as an unhappy woman?” she askedand shook her head at few moments later. “Don’t answer that, darling. No, that’snot why I chose her. You see, most people who come here only know Helen for herbeauty but they have no eyes for the woman underneath.” Fulvia decided to indulge her host and leaned back. Claudia made it easy tofeel at ease around her. “So you wish to hide something behind your beauty?” she asked and Claudiagrinned victoriously. “That means you think I’m beautiful?” Fulvia felt trapped only for a moment but Claudia noticed because she shook herhead again, laughing softly. “Don’t worry. I’m just playing with you.” “Of course you are. You strike me as a smart woman so I’m assuming you havenoticed your beauty at some point in your life.” Fulvia paused and rememberedwhere she was. “I’m sorry, I had no intention to offend you.” Claudia made an exaggerated pout. “Offend me? Dear new sister, that is very difficult and I can assure you that I’min no way offended by you.” Fulvia smiled at her and tried to think of a good topic for conversation. Claudia,however, proved again to be a most uncommon woman. She reached over and cuppedFulvia’s face in her hand, gently forcing her “new sister” to look at her.Fulvia was surprised but managed to not shy away from the touch. It was clearto her that Claudia was somehow testing her and she was determined to prove herworth. Instead she focused on returning Claudia’s gaze. Her host’s lips curledinto a small smile. “Well, your face is certainly beautiful. But there are other beautiful women inRome. Why did you marry my brother?” she asked, her intense stare never leavingFulvia’s face. Fulvia gave her best to not look intimidated. “My parents and your older brother arranged…” she started but Claudia hushedher by putting a perfectly manicured finger on her lips. “Not that. Money, blood lines and all that – it bores me. Tell me the excitingpart. Why did you marry my brother?” Claudia slowly removed her finger andcaressed Fulvia’s cheek as if to soothe her. If that was her intention shedefinitely failed because Fulvia felt a deep unrest at her core. She struggledfor an answer but in Claudia’s half embrace she could think of nothing but thetruth.  “I am – I mean I view myself as heiress of the Gracchi. I can see how thismight seem presumptuous as I am only a woman…” Claudia shook her head gentlyand let her hand wander down Fulvia’s neck. Fulvia drew a shaky breath and wenton. “I read about them. I heard about them. And I agree with them. Not oneverything of course. But I think that it is right to question the currentsystem of the Republic.” “Oh” said Claudia and started playing with a loose strand of Fulvia’s hair. “You’rea politician. How exciting.” Somehow encouraged by this, Fulvia went on. “I think that Rome can only survive if we – I mean the men who rule the city –do more for the people. I think that Rome was built by all Romans and it canonly continue to survive and grow if all Romans have a chance to be involved.But I am only a woman.” “And you hope that my brother will be able to help you, my beautiful politiciansister?” asked Claudia and her hand laid still on Fulvia’s shoulder. “I do not only hope, I am sure of it.” Like an afterthought she quickly added “AndI love him, of course.” Claudia smiled at her with true affection. “I see.” Fulvia had never spoken so openly with another woman before. Now, she felt asif she could tell Claudia anything, even though a rational voice in her mindtold her that this was Claudia’s power. This was what Claudius’ sisterintended. But Fulvia could not find any malice in her face and so she spokeagain. “And I do not wish to be left behind.” Claudia stroked her collarbone with her thumband gave her an inquiring look. “I mean I don’t want to be left in the house to deal with slaves and children.”Quickly she added: “Though I’d love to raise children, of course. And I do notmind the work of a mistress of the house. But I want to go out. I want to go tothe forum and to the senate, even though I’m not allowed to enter or speak. Iwant to talk to people and support my husband not only as a woman but as acompanion.” Her speech had grown fiercer and when she focused on Claudia againthere was a strange look on her face. In a sudden motion Claudia drew up herknees under her and hovered above Fulvia. Gently Claudia cupped her face inboth her hands and looked down at her with an unreadable expression on herface.  She seemed to search for somethingin Fulvia’s eyes and when she found it the most bewitching smile appeared onher face. Fulvia felt light. “Yes” whispered Claudia “I think he has found the right companion in you.” Herfingers caressed Fulvia’s cheeks and Fulvia could do nothing more than stare ather, motionless. Claudia held a strange power over her but she did not feel theneed to break free. “Like you, my beautiful sister, I long for a kind of freedom I was not bornfor. A different freedom than you, may be. But freedom still.” Fulvia smiled. Claudia returned her smile but Fulvia sensed that she was waitingfor something. My permission, Fulvia realized and suddenly knew what she wantedand what she had to say. Unused of the gesture but sure of her intentions Fulvia warped an arm around Claudia’smidriff and marveled at the effortless elegance with which Claudia pressed herbody against her. “Maybe I can be your companion, too?” whispered Fulvia and when Claudia kissedher she knew that she had found the right words.

[anime-imagines-galore]

Jotaro Aquarium Date (Part 4 Time)

((I wrote this based on a trip I took to the aquarium and I tried to make this fairly detailed given it’s Ocean Man lol. But yea, I based it off the Baltimore Aquarium and the Dallas Aquarium if you guys wanted to know and the relationship is up to interpretation. Also, dedicated to @jotarohasadirtysecret, a new friend!!!!))

Under the cut because it’s 2K+ words

Given that this is Jotaro we’re talking about and aquariums are usually crowded with people, most of them being children, the request to join him really caught you off guard. Before your thoughtful silence could be taken as rejection, you quickly agree to his request, not missing the small blush that he As much as Jotaro loves sea life, it was still surprising to know that he wanted to go to the aquarium. tried to cover with his hat.

~~~~~~

Getting to the aquarium wasn’t too bad. Sure, it was hot but the train ride there was pleasantly cool and surprisingly empty for a Saturday. You even managed to get more than a one word answer out of the quiet man by commenting on the skyline of Downtown. Reaching the stop, the two of you made your way to the aquarium. When the two of you arrived to the aquarium, both of you were relieved it was only a ten minute walk away from your stop. Thankfully, the line was fairly short, it being a 30 minute wait instead of the usual 45.

Surrounding the trail to get inside and near the admissions booth were a few exhibits holding exotic birds mostly from South America and Africa. Gawking at the sheer size of the birds, some the size of farm pigs and one that was nearly four feet tall, while Jotaro purchased the tickets. Nudging you away from a band of penguins, the two of you climbed up a flight of stairs into a seemingly different world.

You heard Jotaro inhale sharply and your eyes widen as a beautiful blue waterfall thundered beside an enormous tree was presented before you. Small monkeys jumped from branch to branch in the thick canopy while ducks by the shore of the island swan in the equally blue stingray filled waters below. Upon further inspection, aka leaning over the rail, you saw the water was much deeper than it let on, seeing dark shadows moving under the surface.

The mist from the waterfall must have made the rail slick because you soon felt yourself tipping over. An arm around your waist pulled you back to the ground and away from the rail before moving itself to your shoulder.

“Yare yare. I know you like fish but you don’t have to swim with them.” looking up at Jotaro, his gaze was trained on the water below but you saw the end of his mouth was slightly -almost unnoticeable- turned upward. You guess the aquarium made the stoic male a bit soft.

Even though there weren’t many people outside, the aquarium was packed. The hand on your shoulder pushed lightly, leading you around the walkway as it gave different angles to the sight before you. A tiny monkey looked down from the leaves arching over the walkway, giving a curious head tilt to the people below. You gawked up at the small creatures as Jotaro led you to the next exhibit. The two of you passed by all types of tropical birds, a crocodile, bats, and even a sloth that was sleeping in a low tree.

Just past the crocodile the slope of the rail became more defined and the viewing windows of the open-ended tanks you looked down on earlier were in sight. Stingrays seemed to fly by in their own tank as ducks dived down with them. The biggest tank and the one with the most crowing housed the-

“Otters!”

“They’re sooooo cute~.”

“They’re a lot bigger than in the videos.”

And that last person was right. The Giant Otter -and it lived up to its name- was stretched out on a log above the water. From nose to tail tip, it reached almost six feet long.

“Have you ever worked with otters before?” You looked up to see that his teal eyes were slightly widened, just as surprised by the size of the creatures as everyone else. “I have but not the giant ones.” You could hear the note of longing in his deep baritone and stifled a giggle as he took an album’s worth of pictures of the otter before it dived in the water.

The trail continued to slope down until the room it led to was much darker than the exhibits before it. You could feel Jotaro start to practically vibrate at what this could mean; you were finally going to see the fish tanks. The tank was no less than 30 feet long and maybe a foot or two taller than your companion, making the viewing window take up most of the wall. Inside were some of the biggest and friendliest catfish you’d ever seen. Unlike its other tank mates, the catfish were very interested in the people and stayed very close to the glass as though they were saying hello. Stingrays, softshell turtles, and an arapaima lazily swam around, letting the catfish have all the fun and… was that a manatee in the back? Jotaro stood fairly far from the tank given that people crowded around the benches in front of it but you could tell he wished to be closer. You, on the other hand, had no problem with coming face to face with the tank and was greeted by one of the catfish. It looked at you with curiosity and even followed a bit as you started to walk away.

“Those fish are ridiculously huge! What do they feed those things?!” you wonder out loud, looking back at the tank. It was then you noticed that Jotaro wasn’t walking with you even though you were on the other side of the room. He stood in front of the tank, writing furiously in a pocket notebook. He looked up and you saw his shoulders slightly jump in panic when he realized you weren’t standing next to him. It wasn’t until his eyes landed on your frame did he snap his notebook close and made his way over, releasing a soft ‘yare yare daze’ when he stopped before you.

“Don’t walk away like that. This place is too crowded.”

“Yea, okay.” you snorted and laughed as he pulled his hat down, knowing that he was probably covering a blush since it was his fault you got separated. A very mischievous idea crossed your mind and you just hoped that this wouldn’t make Jotaro too uncomfortable. You wrapped your arms around his left arm, careful to keep to that side in case he wanted to write something else in his notebook. He looked down at you in mild bewilderment at the sudden contact. Flashing a brilliant smile, you responded with a, “So we don’t lose each other again.” and didn’t even bother trying to hold in the laugh at his ‘yare yare’.

Now that you think about it, you were glad that you decided to latch onto his arm. The lower half of the building seemed to be exclusively for deeper sea life as there were tanks after tanks of the deep-sea creatures. Fresh water, salt water, cold or warm water; you name it, it was there. You had to lengthen your strides as Jotaro darted from one tank to the other and giving the small children around a run for their money in terms of energy. You even watched as he found a tank titled the Waters of Japan and became engrossed with a particularly friendly fish. You heard the children’s laughter as they watched the fish flip to follow whatever finger was dragged on the glass.

There was one tank, though, that got Jotaro to finally stay still long enough for you to catch your breath. Not much to your surprise, once the two of you entered the Shark Tunnel, Jotaro didn’t want to leave. Honestly, you didn’t really want to leave, either. The tunnel was bathed in a soft blue light, the water around you a cool aquamarine. Even the shadows softened to a sapphire and Jotaro’s already deep blue eyes darkened to match the water around him. Your breath hitched as his white attire glowed, making it seem like he would look more at home with the creatures in the water than the people on land. With how enthusiastically he talked about his work, you felt that he thought the same way sometimes. Turning your attention back to tank around you, you failed to notice him watching you out of the corner of his eye, taking you in with as much vigor as you were to him just moments earlier. Watching the smaller and more passive sharks -bull sharks and sawfish, Jotaro informed you- swim right beside and above you was mystical. The real spectacle, though, were the bigger fish. Candy colored tropical fish sped away as a whale shark seemingly moved in slow motion behind them. The crowd let out a collective ‘ahhhh’ as the gentle giant twisted over the tunnel to swim to the other side.

Looking up at Jotaro, you were surprised to see that he was smiling. Smiling. In public. Well, a Jotaro smile. Okay, surprised wasn’t the right word given that his normal stoic facade wasn’t as strong today as it normally is but it wasn’t a normal sight and it was kind of…..nice. You’d daresay he was having fun today and this side of him was worth being swarmed by obnoxious children and even worse parents to see it again. Neither of you bothered trying to rush the other out of the tunnel, enjoying the peaceful nature of the whale sharks. After standing there for what felt like forever, Jotaro lightly tugged his arm in your grasp and started making his way to the exit. Walking slowly, the two of you watched as a pair of manta rays back flipped slowly in the water before gracefully gliding away to a deeper part of the tank as of saying goodbye.

Continuing your slow gait, the two of you passed by tall wide columns willed with long tentacled jellyfish. The tanks changed colors, giving some life to the dark room and giving the unworldly creatures an ethereal feel. After the jellyfish, the hallway started to lighten and you had to let go of Jotaro’s arm as he suddenly ran to the next tank. Practically pushing past the children gathered at the glass, you watched as he started to furiously write in his notebook again. You laughed, knowing that if any animal was going to provoke this reaction, it was going to be the dolphins. They corkscrewed, flipped, and spun around and around in the water; just having a good time. Given that he had a dolphin pin on his hat and coat, you concluded that they were his favorite aquatic mammals and watched the dolphins in wonder as they performed tricks before the growing crowd.

You had to literally drag the tall male away from the tank and to the next exhibit, which would be some of the last animals in the aquarium.

“Come on….” you huffed trying to pull him by the arm. He’s six foot too tall of pure muscle, making him stupid amounts of heavy. “You’re too tall to be standing in front of the tank forever and you need to move because you’re heavy~!”

“Just a few more notes.” he grunted. You could’ve swore he’d been writing something down for five minutes straight by this point about an animal he works with every day.

“You work with them all the time. Come on, just a few more animals.” a sigh and a ‘yare yare’ made you nearly stumble as Jotaro started walking away from the tank.

Holding his arm again, you nearly rolled your eyes at how stiff he seemed to have gotten but still dragged him to the small petting area in the sunlit room.

“Welcome to the horseshoe crab exhibit! Would you like to touch them?” the woman behind the waist tall open tank asked. “These crustaceans haven’t changed much at all from millions of years ago, given that they don’t look much like any other creature in their family.” she was right, with its appropriately horseshoe shaped body, eight legs, and tail made it look like a mix of a stingray and a crab. Its black eyes were nearly lost in its dark brown/gray body and you were careful to softly run a finger down its spine. It hopped a little in the water at the touch and the sudden movement made you quickly pull back your hand. The woman laughed at your surprise and started to pet a particularly antsy crab. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you about that.” To your left, around six crabs were crowded around Jotaro, who looked concerned at the crabs climbing on top of each other as they tried to get affection from the man. Seemingly feeling your gaze, he looked up and seemed to flush a bit when your eyes met. Nodding his head in a thank you to the woman, he gave the crabs one final pat before joining your side again.

Walking around a busy and sometimes cramp building all day left the two of you exhausted and you were both glad the ancient crabs were the last creatures in the aquarium. The walk back to the train station was quiet and relaxed, neither too eager to move fast but also not too eager to miss the upcoming train. The train ride was equally quiet and, thankfully, pleasantly cool and mostly empty. A tired contentment rolled off Jotaro in waves, making you want to lean closer to the man. There was a moment’s hesitation before you felt an arm wrap itself around your shoulders and bring you closer to its host. In response, you leaned you head on his shoulder and closed your eyes to rest a bit for the remainder of the ride.

A gentle but firm nudge prompted you out of your seat from your groggy state. The arm around your shoulders led you out the train and to your destination. The walk back slowly but surely woke you up and it wasn’t until the two of you were a street or two from your house did you realize that you were going home. Jotaro led you to the front of your house and stopped in front of the door. He slightly rocked on his feet as though he was going to say something but was too nervous to do so. A smile tugged your lips upwards as you thought of another mischievous idea that you hoped would go in your favor. Standing on the top of your toes, you grabbed the collar of Jotaro’s coat and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Despite pulling his hat down to cover his eyes, his blush had spread across his entire face and he didn’t bother trying to hide his smile as he turned away to go home.

[holleringhawk65]

Day 1: Endurance

5 times that Shiro and Ulaz went through something unpleasant and the 1 time it was really nice

(Teen rating, normal angst that comes with a Shiro fic, a little bit of racism from Allura, some mistranslation, mentions of injuries and sex)

I.

“I want him awake for this.” Haggar’s voice is clear; there will be no arguments made against her.

Still, Ulaz falters. Usually patients are given some kind of basic sedative; there’s no reason to traumatize them with the pain. Indeed, it would be rather counterproductive to give someone an upgrade only to have them unable to use it.

It only takes a few ticks for Ulaz to resume his movements. Haggar is suspicious, he knows that.

Shiro is scared. He knows what’s going on and he’s more than scared, he’s fucking terrified. Who wouldn’t be?

Ulaz wishes that his eyes conveyed that he was sorry, but he’s rather sure that his all yellow eyes only frighten him more. It probably doesn’t help that he has to turn on the saw right away.

He wants to throw up as Shiro tries to keep a straight face when his arm is cut clean off, as tears well in Shiro’s eyes when the synthetic arm is attached, and as Haggar breathes as if she’s looking at the most beautiful piece of art when the arm starts to glow.

II.

Shiro is looking around the room, so uncomfortable and at ill ease. He’s just defeated another opponent, but his nose was broken in the fight. It’s bleeding because it was cut at the top too, something that’s going to leave a nasty, identifying, scar.

Ulaz has been told just to set it and clean up the wound the best he can. He muses that it’s basically the simplest form of first aid that he can give to the Champion.

“How’s the arm?” Ulaz asks, partly out of curiosity, partly because he actually cares. Sometimes, when people get a Druid enhancement, it goes to their head and makes them go insane.

Shiro glances at him, looking confused. It makes Ulaz wonders if the words translated properly or not. “It works.”

Ulaz moves the sleeve to check it for himself. The skin looks a little inflamed, so Ulaz goes to find some antibiotics, just to be on the safe side.

When he comes back, the Champion is looking down at the floor. Ulaz wonders if he was attractive on Earth, before the mandatory undercut for prisoners who make it through their first fight, before the one tuft of hair turned white because of the Druids.

And now he’ll have this scar, smack dab in the middle of his face.

“These will make you feel better.” He extends the pills out, and he’d like for the Champion to take them, but he’s not going to force them down his throat. Not if Haggar doesn’t make him.

Shiro must be in more pain than he’s letting on, because he takes them rather quickly, grimacing as he dry swallows them.

Ulaz feels guilty as Shiro falls asleep nearly instantaneously. Maybe some rest, however artificial it is, will help the Champion’s condition.

III.

He’ll be honest; he doesn’t think he should be alive. In fact, he’s not really sure how he is. By all accounts, activating the space and time fold inside of the Robeast should have killed him.

But here he was.

And of course, Shiro is elated. He didn’t think he was ever going to see the Champion smiling and blushing like this. Shiro wanted Hunk to pull out all of the stops for a dinner celebration. He was cleaning out a room for him, conveniently located near his. Ulaz, for his part, was more than willing to help Pidge look at Galra tech, to answer Keith’s questions about the Blade of Marmora, and to help Lance understand different ways of alien courtship.

It would all be going great, if it weren’t for Allura.

Allura was suspicious of the fact that Ulaz was alive now. Nevermind that they were now allies with the Blade or anything. They had to deal with her and her being a racist. She was almost positive that he wasn’t the real Ulaz; how could it be him, when they all witnessed Ulaz sacrifice his life for them?

So, Shiro had to deal with all of the unhappiness that Allura dished out. On some level, Shiro knew that she was acting like this because she wanted to protect them all, after everything, but…

“You are jealous that someone wants to be with Shiro.” Ulaz says it calmly. It’s just the two of them, in one of the lounge areas, because the paladins are training and Coran is attempting to make a dish that will one up Hunk’s culinary prowess.

Allura lifted her head from her data pad. “Excuse me?”

He repeats his claim again, just as level headed. It really should have been more obvious. While Lance has not stopped his advances on Allura, he’s no match for her. But with Ulaz and Shiro, they practically are a perfect match. Is Ulaz potentially a little bit below Shiro’s league? Yes, but they are much more evenly matched than Allura, a princess, and Lance, who aside from being a Paladin, is far beneath her.

Allura looked Ulaz straight in the face. “Even if I were jealous, what does that have to do with you?”

Ulaz blinks. Had she really not been cognisant of what she was doing? “You have been very hostile towards Shiro whenever we are together.”

Allura straightened up. She looked just a little guilty. Maybe she hadn’t meant to be acting like she was? “I… I apologize for my behavior, Ulaz. I do not mean to cause you or Shiro any distress. You have to understand that I am just trying to protect the Paladins whenever I can. The fight against the Galra Empire is not easy, as you know all too well.”

Well, an apology was a good start.

IV.

Ulaz is the one who is injured. He could probably tell Shiro how to help him, but all of a sudden, the translators had stopped working. He growled in frustration, which sent Shiro reeling backward, afraid he had offended the Galra. There was a bloody cloth in his hand from trying to stop the bleeding, but Ulaz isn’t sure that would be enough anyway.

Ulaz is breathing through his mouth. Everything around him is spinning and he just wishes that he could Shiro’s voice, but his head got slammed to the ground and everything is ringing.

When Shiro does talk, Ulaz only understands a handful of words. He really needs to learn English, like Shiro wants to learn Galra. The Black Paladin says something about his lion, Ulaz thinks. Maybe there is medical equipment there? But he reaches out to him with a hand. He doesn’t want him to leave. He thinks that, potentially, dying alone is the worst way to go, so he wants to avoid that.

Though these shouldn't really be life threatening injuries, he thinks. He’ll just be very uncomfortable if he’s not allowed to use a healing pod back at the castle.

Still, he keeps his hand on Shiro’s thigh until Shiro picks it up and interlocks his fingers. Obviously, he doesn’t seem worried about being growled at again, especially as he lays down, pressing himself to Ulaz in an attempt to conserve body heat.

It’s a while later, maybe an hour later, that the rest of the team shows up. At first, everyone thinks that Ulaz is dead (again), but then he twitches, an arm around Shiro tightening. Even though they both must be in pain, albeit varying degrees, they created such a peaceful image that the others almost didn’t want to disturb them.

That is, until they noticed the dark stain on Ulaz’s uniform and a fresh cut on Shiro’s head.

V.

Ulaz and Shiro are practiced at dealing with each other’s panic attacks, flashbacks, and nightmares. What they’re not used to dealing with?

Parents.

The funny thing is, these parents are neither Ulaz’s nor Shiro’s, because the former’s have been dead for a long time and the latter’s are relatively safe, tucked away on Earth.

They’re Kolivan’s parents, who are kind of like the parents of everyone in the Blade of Marmora. And the way the act is kind of endearing, because Kolivan’s mother is the tough ass who’ll knock you around, and Kolivan’s father is the one who’s likely to bring cookies to you.

But, given that the courtship between Ulaz and Shiro is one of the few things of interest, aside from defeating the Galra empire, that are going on around the base, that means all of their attention is on the two.

“Have you begun to plan the ceremony?” Kolivan’s father asked them as a tray of a tea-like-substance and what passes as Galra sweets are set before them.

Ulaz’s ears twitched and his cheeks became a darker shade of purple. With the way that it translated, Shiro thought that the ceremony was like a wedding, which was an embarrassing idea in a way.

Ulaz vigorously shook his head. “There will be no ceremony for us.”

Shiro looked over at his significant other. He knew that it would be a long time until they would have time to get married, but to say it wouldn’t happen? Shiro fisted the fabric of his pants and he felt Ulaz’s eyes on him, but there was no comment made.

The visit went on as one would expect a visit with a grandparent would go, which is to say slowly. Shiro was glad when it was over because it meant they could escape to Ulaz’s rooms.

When they got into Ulaz’s bedroom, safely tucked away from everyone else, he bent down and kissed Shiro deeply, pressing him up against the wall. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, when they broke apart.

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You know that I love it when we kiss.” It was pretty much all they did, aside from the cuddling together.

“No, no. About what he said in the beginning, about…” There was that flush again.

“Us getting married?”

Ulaz’s head tilted. “That can’t have been what it would translate to.”

“No, it translated to ‘ceremony,’ I just assumed that you were talking about, you know, getting married.” Now it was his turn for his face to flush.

Ulaz couldn’t stifle a laugh. “I’m glad it did not directly translate. What we were talking about is something less polite. It’s much more of a traditional event, nothing that I would take part in, or that Kolivan would force us to do.”

Shiro frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“When people mated for the first time, it used to be a public affair. That’s all that we were talking about and I just wanted you to know that I would never put you through that.” Shiro’s heartbeat spiked at hearing what they had been talking about. The idea of it almost made him want to throw up.

But then Ulaz brings up Shiro’s hands and kisses his knuckles. It’s his own little way of cementing something that he just said and the soothing motion of it works every time.

VI.

The Galra empire has been destroyed. It feels like they’ve all been fighting for decades, but for the Paladins it’s really only been a few years. Shiro is exhausted, most of all. He’s been through absolute hell and Ulaz just wished that he could erase it all.

At the very least, he could give Shiro an amazing, real, first time. And that’s what he was going to do.

There were scented candles, rose petals, a fresh set of sheets on the bed, calming music, and the approval of Black (not that Shiro needed to know that).

They started the night with a nice, warm, shower and then a bubble bath. Ulaz is almost constantly nuzzling Shiro, in between the two of them cleaning each other off. After they’re all dried off, which takes a great deal longer for Ulaz to do then Shiro, they went into Shiro’s bedroom. They’re doing it here because this is Shiro’s space, this is where he feels comfortable.

Ulaz leans down and kisses Shiro.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Shiro’s arms are around Ulaz’s neck and his eyes dilate and this beautiful, miraculous, human breaks out into a smile. “I love you, too.”

Ulaz leaned down and nuzzled Shiro’s neck. Yes, that first time was rather perfect, if you asked him.

[starcitizenprivateer]

Spectrum Spectator: One Step Back

Daisy Wences: Welcome once again to your show of shows, Spectrum Spectator. Where we take everything broadcast during the past week and blend it into a concentrated, easy-to-digest paste. I’m your entertainment emissary, Daisy Wences, and with me as always is this other person.

Lars Gonall: Why do I feel like the job title ‘Paste Purveyor’ would go over better with my parents than ‘Spectrum Critic?’

Daisy Wences: Because even though you’re a grown adult, you still live your life seeking your parents’ approval?

Lars Gonall: Once again, thanks to Daisy, I’m going to have some deep thinking to do after this show.

Daisy Wences: That’s why we’re all here, right? Profound self-epiphanies.

Lars Gonall: Profound epiphanies through the prism of spectrum are the perfect medium for self-reflection.

Daisy Wences: Which reminds me, have you caught Far From Home yet?

Lars Gonall: I have…

Daisy Wences: Yes! How many episodes have you done? Ten? Twenty?

Lars Gonall: Daisy has been begging me to check it out since she discovered it last week and I gotta say… it’s not for me.

Daisy Wences: What?!

Lars Gonall: For those of you unfamiliar, Far From Home is this personal diary and advice show that a solo pilot puts out from his Freelancer. It’s basically like when you get seated next to your friend’s uncle at a dinner party and they just want to talk about how good ships used to be in the old days.

Daisy Wences: You did not just compare Old Jegger to someone’s random uncle.

Lars Gonall: Later, when you go back and check the recording, you will see that I, in fact, did exactly that.

Daisy Wences: Despite what Lars says, I still think that this is a show worth checking out. I heard about it on a DIY forum when I was trying to fix a glitchy heater in my hab. Of course, instead of actually fixing the stupid thing, I wound up spending the rest of the night consuming every Far From Home episode I could find. Maybe because part of me always wondered what it would be like on the drift. Hearing him talk, you start to understand the difference between a solitary life and a lonely one.

Lars Gonall: I will say that I appreciated how he seemed very much about everyone finding their own best way to live. It wasn’t just him preaching about how we should all be space hermits. And I’ll also give it a few more points now that there’s that rumor circulating that he’s dead.

Daisy Wences: Wait? What?

Lars Gonall: You didn’t see this? It was on the Galactapedia page. Turns out he hasn’t put out an episode since the last one he did from Charon. People are speculating that something might have happened to him. A bunch of fans have started trying to organize a search for him.

Daisy Wences: He is a hermit, right? I bet he’s simply staying off the grid for a bit. I’m sure this is just one of those dumb spectrum rumors and he’ll show up in a week or two with a great story to tell. At least, I really hope that’s what’ll happen.

Lars Gonall: Yeah. You’re probably right. Just promise me that you’re not gonna run away to join the search.

Daisy Wences: Don’t worry, Lars. I’m not leaving the show… yet.

Lars Gonall: Since we got to talk about one of your new favorite shows, you want to talk about my new crush that you can’t stand?

Daisy Wences: Fine. Go ahead.

Lars Gonall: From the makers of such fine reality vids like Kid Empire and Weapon Wars: Shoot-Out Edition comes my brand new obsession, Face to Face, a dating show with a brilliant premise.

Daisy Wences: You mean an insanely creepy premise.

Lars Gonall: Oh, yeah. Won’t argue with you there. This is definitely a show for people who love cringe binging. All the contestants are sent into one of those new and really expensive BiotiCorp machines and given identical faces.

Daisy Wences: Want to know how they picked what that face would look like? They created a composite head from all the main single person’s exes. How messed up is that?

Lars Gonall: The show claims they’re trying to create an ideal partner for the selector by looking at their previous romantic choices. The lucky -

Daisy Wences: I guess that’s how they could be described…

Lars Gonall: The lucky bachelor is a fitness instructor from New Babbage named Eris who goes on dates with all the contestants and eliminates anyone they don’t like. Once eliminated, the candidates are reverted back to their original face.

Daisy Wences: I swear it’s like some bizarre cult. One of the contestants who got cut was sobbing because they didn’t want their old face back. I know it’s pretty common these days to adjust how you look, but the way they were all losing their identity while trying to become someone else’s fantasy made me really uncomfortable.

Lars Gonall: You had a much darker take than I did. For me, it was fun to watch people get to know each other in a situation where their looks didn’t matter. Eris couldn’t judge people on who was attractive or not, it was all about if they had a connection. What’s really going to be interesting is that the winning contestant gets to reconstruct their face however they want. Do they go with their original? An ‘improved’ version of themselves? Keep their new face? So many choices.

Daisy Wences: Do you think the people at BiotiCorp would have made the Calliope if they knew that this was how their amazing invention was going to be used?

Lars Gonall: I assume all scientists hope for a day when their discovery or invention can be used to help strangers pretend to be in love on spectrum.

Daisy Wences: Shall we move on to a show that we were actually scheduled to review this week?

Lars Gonall: Even better, a show that we both actually liked.

Daisy Wences: Last Friday saw the premiere of the much-heralded docu-series One Step Back. Filmed on Asura, it’s a hard look at what life is like for former criminals trying to re-enter society. The first episode focuses on Liz ‘Necro’ Salguero, a convicted shipjacker who was released from Quarterdeck last year.

Lars Gonall: You get a real sense of what it must be like to have this criminal reputation hanging over your head. At one point, she goes through a checkpoint on her way to sell some scrap and seeing how security swarms all over her to do a deep scan was really surprising to me. Maybe this is just my naïveté talking, but I always figured that serving time was enough to clear your record. It turns out though that the Advocacy keeps you flagged as a person of interest for a long time after you’ve been incarcerated, and a lot of people get access to those records.

Daisy Wences: One of the people they interview is a criminal rights advocate who is trying to change the law so that once your crime is atoned for, your records remained sealed unless you are charged with a crime again. We expect these people to be able to make a life for themselves, but with their past available to potential employers, many can’t find work and even when they do, it’s a long hard road to earning trust and respectability again.

Lars Gonall: This isn’t exactly the same thing, but I do remember this one time growing up when my dad accidentally clipped a ship that was rising out of hangar bay. He got flagged and until he paid off the fine, we weren’t allowed to use a lot of public landing areas. It was only a week, but still.

Daisy Wences: I had no idea you came from an outlaw family. It’ll be interesting to see what the show does to help forward the dialogue about all this. Apparently, since the episode was released, Liz has been overwhelmed with job offers and people looking to help her out. Pretty touching really. Of course, that’s just one person.

Lars Gonall: Strongly recommend you give this show a try. It’s not exactly lighthearted, but it’s doing some important things.

Daisy Wences: All right, on that surprisingly serious note, we have to take our first break. When Spectrum Spectators returns, we’ll be discussing the new Tavi Arteaga comedy, One Mann’s Treasure, about a young woman named Aleria Mann who leaves her bustling life in Prime to run her sick mother’s salvaging business out in the far reaches of Corel.

Lars Gonall: I’m pretty excited because we haven’t reviewed a ‘the character’s name is a title pun’ show in a long time, so be sure to stick around and we’ll be right back.

[sad-ch1ld]

via RSI Comm-Link

Daisy Wences: Welcome once again to your show of shows, Spectrum Spectator. Where we take everything broadcast during the past week and blend it into a concentrated, easy-to-digest paste. I’m your entertainment emissary, Daisy Wences, and with me as always is this other person.

Lars Gonall: Why do I feel like the job title ‘Paste Purveyor’ would go over better with my parents than ‘Spectrum Critic?’

Daisy Wences: Because even though you’re a grown adult, you still live your life seeking your parents’ approval?

Lars Gonall: Once again, thanks to Daisy, I’m going to have some deep thinking to do after this show.

Daisy Wences: That’s why we’re all here, right? Profound self-epiphanies.

Lars Gonall: Profound epiphanies through the prism of spectrum are the perfect medium for self-reflection.

Daisy Wences: Which reminds me, have you caught Far From Home yet?

Lars Gonall: I have…

Daisy Wences: Yes! How many episodes have you done? Ten? Twenty?

Lars Gonall: Daisy has been begging me to check it out since she discovered it last week and I gotta say… it’s not for me.

Daisy Wences: What?!

Lars Gonall: For those of you unfamiliar, Far From Home is this personal diary and advice show that a solo pilot puts out from his Freelancer. It’s basically like when you get seated next to your friend’s uncle at a dinner party and they just want to talk about how good ships used to be in the old days.

Daisy Wences: You did not just compare Old Jegger to someone’s random uncle.

Lars Gonall: Later, when you go back and check the recording, you will see that I, in fact, did exactly that.

Daisy Wences: Despite what Lars says, I still think that this is a show worth checking out. I heard about it on a DIY forum when I was trying to fix a glitchy heater in my hab. Of course, instead of actually fixing the stupid thing, I wound up spending the rest of the night consuming every Far From Home episode I could find. Maybe because part of me always wondered what it would be like on the drift. Hearing him talk, you start to understand the difference between a solitary life and a lonely one.

Lars Gonall: I will say that I appreciated how he seemed very much about everyone finding their own best way to live. It wasn’t just him preaching about how we should all be space hermits. And I’ll also give it a few more points now that there’s that rumor circulating that he’s dead.

Daisy Wences: Wait? What?

Lars Gonall: You didn’t see this? It was on the Galactapedia page. Turns out he hasn’t put out an episode since the last one he did from Charon. People are speculating that something might have happened to him. A bunch of fans have started trying to organize a search for him.

Daisy Wences: He is a hermit, right? I bet he’s simply staying off the grid for a bit. I’m sure this is just one of those dumb spectrum rumors and he’ll show up in a week or two with a great story to tell. At least, I really hope that’s what’ll happen.

Lars Gonall: Yeah. You’re probably right. Just promise me that you’re not gonna run away to join the search.

Daisy Wences: Don’t worry, Lars. I’m not leaving the show… yet.

Lars Gonall: Since we got to talk about one of your new favorite shows, you want to talk about my new crush that you can’t stand?

Daisy Wences: Fine. Go ahead.

Lars Gonall: From the makers of such fine reality vids like Kid Empire and Weapon Wars: Shoot-Out Edition comes my brand new obsession, Face to Face, a dating show with a brilliant premise.

Daisy Wences: You mean an insanely creepy premise.

Lars Gonall: Oh, yeah. Won’t argue with you there. This is definitely a show for people who love cringe binging. All the contestants are sent into one of those new and really expensive BiotiCorp machines and given identical faces.

Daisy Wences: Want to know how they picked what that face would look like? They created a composite head from all the main single person’s exes. How messed up is that?

Lars Gonall: The show claims they’re trying to create an ideal partner for the selector by looking at their previous romantic choices. The lucky -

Daisy Wences: I guess that’s how they could be described…

Lars Gonall: The lucky bachelor is a fitness instructor from New Babbage named Eris who goes on dates with all the contestants and eliminates anyone they don’t like. Once eliminated, the candidates are reverted back to their original face.

Daisy Wences: I swear it’s like some bizarre cult. One of the contestants who got cut was sobbing because they didn’t want their old face back. I know it’s pretty common these days to adjust how you look, but the way they were all losing their identity while trying to become someone else’s fantasy made me really uncomfortable.

Lars Gonall: You had a much darker take than I did. For me, it was fun to watch people get to know each other in a situation where their looks didn’t matter. Eris couldn’t judge people on who was attractive or not, it was all about if they had a connection. What’s really going to be interesting is that the winning contestant gets to reconstruct their face however they want. Do they go with their original? An ‘improved’ version of themselves? Keep their new face? So many choices.

Daisy Wences: Do you think the people at BiotiCorp would have made the Calliope if they knew that this was how their amazing invention was going to be used?

Lars Gonall: I assume all scientists hope for a day when their discovery or invention can be used to help strangers pretend to be in love on spectrum.

Daisy Wences: Shall we move on to a show that we were actually scheduled to review this week?

Lars Gonall: Even better, a show that we both actually liked.

Daisy Wences: Last Friday saw the premiere of the much-heralded docu-series One Step Back. Filmed on Asura, it’s a hard look at what life is like for former criminals trying to re-enter society. The first episode focuses on Liz ‘Necro’ Salguero, a convicted shipjacker who was released from Quarterdeck last year.

Lars Gonall: You get a real sense of what it must be like to have this criminal reputation hanging over your head. At one point, she goes through a checkpoint on her way to sell some scrap and seeing how security swarms all over her to do a deep scan was really surprising to me. Maybe this is just my naïveté talking, but I always figured that serving time was enough to clear your record. It turns out though that the Advocacy keeps you flagged as a person of interest for a long time after you’ve been incarcerated, and a lot of people get access to those records.

Daisy Wences: One of the people they interview is a criminal rights advocate who is trying to change the law so that once your crime is atoned for, your records remained sealed unless you are charged with a crime again. We expect these people to be able to make a life for themselves, but with their past available to potential employers, many can’t find work and even when they do, it’s a long hard road to earning trust and respectability again.

Lars Gonall: This isn’t exactly the same thing, but I do remember this one time growing up when my dad accidentally clipped a ship that was rising out of hangar bay. He got flagged and until he paid off the fine, we weren’t allowed to use a lot of public landing areas. It was only a week, but still.

Daisy Wences: I had no idea you came from an outlaw family. It’ll be interesting to see what the show does to help forward the dialogue about all this. Apparently, since the episode was released, Liz has been overwhelmed with job offers and people looking to help her out. Pretty touching really. Of course, that’s just one person.

Lars Gonall: Strongly recommend you give this show a try. It’s not exactly lighthearted, but it’s doing some important things.

Daisy Wences: All right, on that surprisingly serious note, we have to take our first break. When Spectrum Spectators returns, we’ll be discussing the new Tavi Arteaga comedy, One Mann’s Treasure, about a young woman named Aleria Mann who leaves her bustling life in Prime to run her sick mother’s salvaging business out in the far reaches of Corel.

Lars Gonall: I’m pretty excited because we haven’t reviewed a ‘the character’s name is a title pun’ show in a long time, so be sure to stick around and we’ll be right back.