#star wars clothing and prosthetics are complicated

[lifblogs]

do a oneshot about anakin ft a lot of padme's back ;) maybe some fun times with them and that backless dress after they're married

Okay, so I’m gonna level with you, anon. This really came across as a demand, especially since I didn’t state I was taking requests, so there is an etiquette that was lacking. However, this idea was fantastic, and I’m in a fun Anidala mood anyway, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, this fic was fun. Please enjoy!

War Will Tear This From Us

1753 words

read on ao3

Padmé’s breath was labored as Anakin slowly began to undress her. Even after their time spent in Varykino on Naboo after the Battle on Geonosis, giving Anakin time to heal and grow used to his new mechno-arm, he still struggled. But Padmé knew he didn’t want her help with this, that he wanted to do it all on his own.

But maybe—

No.

She inhaled deeply—so deep in fact that she felt as if she needed more air—when Anakin finally managed to have the intricate lace of her wedding dress start sliding off of her. This was all new to her, but it was a newness that she wanted to explore with him.

Her back still bore scars from the Nexu during her attempted execution, but Ani didn’t seem to care. His fingers—both skin and metal that was warming to her touch—brushed against the raggedness of them. The scars would fade in another week or so with proper treatment, but for now they were real, and they were a reminder of what they’d faced together. She trembled from the care of which he caressed her, heat running in liquid trails down her spine.

“Ani…” she breathed, not sure what she had even been planning on saying.

She could tell he was smiling, could hear it in his voice when he asked quietly, “Yes?”

“Shouldn’t we undress together? I want to see you.”

Her cheeks reddened at this admittance, the entirety of this relationship so new to her. Yes, she’d already had her first kiss, and she had been close with Clovis, but after all she’d been through, she was married, and to Padawan Anakin Skywalker. She couldn’t calm the fluttering in her stomach or the soaring in her heart. The light in her seemed to grow even as the burning sunset faded over the lakehouse.

“Well let’s just make sure this dress doesn’t get in the way of you taking my clothes off.”

Again she found herself taking in far too much air. Part of her wanted to hold her dress up over her chest as it began to slip off of her body. Anakin, noticing her tension, pressed himself up against her and caressed her arms.

“We can wait,” he said. “Though the images I have in my mind of you… I can barely stand it.”

For a few moments they just existed together, bodies moving in tandem with their breaths. She could feel the strong, racing beat of his heart through her back.

“No.” She turned to him, and did hold up her dress, just so it wouldn’t slip around her legs and entangle her. With one hand she reached out to run her fingers through his short hair, and then caressed his face, holding his chin. “We’re married, and I’m choosing to do this with you, not because I have to as your wife, but because I want to.”

“Then why so tense?”

Testing him, she ran her hand over his body, and found him tense as well, though slightly more relaxed than her. His pupils grew larger from her touch, and this close to him, she was beginning to feel a hardness in between his legs, pressing against her stomach.

“Don’t pretend you’re not nervous too.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap and release, and she was swept up into his arms. They kissed, a kiss that sent liquid fire down in between her legs, and he tugged the rest of her dress off. Something about being bare before him while he was still in his Jedi tunics and tabard tugged at that wildness inside her. Her nipples peaked, and she found herself moving her body against his, in ways she didn’t know it could move or even wanted to, as he brought her over to their bed.

Anakin was gentle about laying her upon it, but there was nothing tender about the way their mouths came together again and again with the force to bruise.

Oh stars, this was her husband. How had any of this happened? How was she so lucky to reconnect with that boy from Tatooine?

During their decade apart she would wonder what he looked like as he slowly became a man, and now, she wasn’t at all disappointed. He was tall, toned, and now possessed a strength about him that made her want to melt, and with a face so handsome it broke her heart. He was melting into her too, so in love with the angel from the stars who’d wished for his freedom.

Anakin’s mechno-arm found her waist, and he hissed in a breath.

Padmé smiled. “How are those electrostatic fingertips working for you?” she asked.

He squeezed, clearly amazed that he could still touch and feel. His kiss-swollen mouth was open in awe. “Just wonderful.”

Anakin took this time to survey her body, and she was faced with all those dreams he’d had of her, all those thoughts he’d tried banishing with his training, all the things he had tried to keep buried. All of it burned like warming and steaming ice in his blue eyes, and Padmé was sure she was flushing down to the roots of her hair.

He caressed, and, wanting more, she slowly began to open her legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her.

“I assume you are too underneath all those robes.”

“You really want to see me naked, don’t you?”

Padmé was breathless as she answered, “Yes.”

So Anakin stepped back, and began to undress for her. Padmé immediately leapt off the bed, completely unashamed by her nudity now, and the ways in which her body moved. She reached for him, slapping his left hand away from his belt.

“I want to do that!” she snapped.

It turned into a war to see who could get his clothes off faster, leaving them giggling. The fight ended with Padmé on top of Anakin on the bed, legs spread over his muscled thighs. He’d just finished kicking off his loose-fitting pants that she had done the honors of untying the laces of, and for some reason she still had his belt. Jokingly, knowing she could explore and play with him, she made to tie the belt around his wrists.

His grin was lecherous.

“Padmé, you don’t want to do that.”

She leaned in, kissed his nose, and asked, “And why not, Jedi?”

“Because I can do this!”

On this, he grabbed the belt, and used it to pull her off of him. He twisted her onto her stomach. Her surprised scream turned into a moan as he pressed against her. Oh, he was hard, and Padmé wasn’t sure since she didn’t have any other measurement to refer to, but he seemed so large. The hot length of him throbbed against her ass. Then that strange, but welcome sensation became a myriad of pleasure as he began to kiss her back, holding her hips all the while.

“What is with you and my back?” she got out, voice low and throaty. 

The laugh that had been building in her throat died as he kissed her topmost scar. That cut had been the longest, the deepest, and it was still sore. But his touch there brought something new to her body. Not pain. But care, pleasure. It brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” he responded, sounding drunk off of her. And Padmé herself was getting drunk off of his voice, his touch, feeling his thighs against hers, closing her in.

She got up on her forearms, and twisted, reaching back, grabbing him by the back of his neck as he leaned in. Even while twisted in a slightly awkward position, Padmé couldn’t stop herself from marveling at the sight of her husband, naked above her. Each muscle had a soft gleam in the dimming light, proving just how hot he was, how much he wanted this. The promise of sweat and movement left her practically drooling, and she shifted against him, moaning with want.

“I love what I see, too.”

They kissed, and then he ever so gently extricated her from him and made her face forward again.

“Stay still.”

“Oh, so you’re going to command a senator?”

“I serve the Republic,” he answered. “But I’m detached from it, so, in a way, I can do as I please.”

“In your dreams. Besides, if there really is going to be a war, you have to follow my orders since you’ll be directly serving the Senate.”

“I thought that was a dictatorship.”

“Fine, then do we vote that I can give you orders?”

“Of course.” Anakin gyrated against her, leaving Padmé even more hot and wanting, moaning beneath him. He went on, “And what are your orders, my lady?”

She pressed back, trying to shove him off of her, but it didn’t work. Instead, it left Anakin holding himself up with his core, running his hands over the front of her body. Their motions turned into a wild thing of desperate, dry-humping, and Anakin’s left hand finding the wetness in between her legs.

“That you stop this nonsense, and fuck me already,” she growled.

“As long as I get to take you from behind first,” Anakin negotiated.

Padmé didn’t even care in which way they came together. They had all night to explore each other, and right now she just wanted him inside her, even while a part of her wondered how he’d even fit.

“Blast, I don’t even care,” she breathed. “Just figure out how to get in me.”

“Can I have help?”

She giggled, realizing that he was as clueless about her body as she was about his—maybe even moreso.

Rolling her eyes, she relented, “Sure.”

Anakin let out a victorious whoop of joy and then continued to lavish her back with kisses, even beginning to lick her. All the while, he lowered himself down her body, and she lifted herself up, ass in the air, ready for him to learn her.

Anakin was an eager Padawan, and with desperate and humorous fumbling, he eventually managed to fill her. With her back pressed against his muscled torso, his cock in her up to his balls, she realized she wanted to experience this for the rest of her life. He held her as he took her, and Padmé gripped his arms, even the mechno-arm.

This was her life now. This was her husband. And for now she didn’t spare a thought for the war that could tear it all away.

[threadsketchier]

Hey! What scars do you imagine the OT trio having on their body? Bc that war and the eu were not kind to them know. Hope you’re having a great day and sending you lots of good vibes✨

Believe it or not, I feel like I’m not the best person to answer this because I don’t have exceptionally creative headcanoning powers XD but...

Han’s already got that famous scar on his chin adding to his rogueish charm; considering his background he’s likely got several odd ones scattered around both from close smuggling scrapes and maintenance accidents on the Falcon.

I could see Leia actually wanting a scar left over from her blaster burn on the Forest Moon, rather than having it completely healed with bacta.  Because despite everything she went through in interrogation on the first Death Star, the kind of scars she carries from that are all on the inside.  She has so many scars on her heart from the psychological torture and Alderaan’s destruction there were days she wondered how it was still beating.  It would be easier if they’d only hurt her physically.  That shot given to her by a random stormtrooper came right before victory, right before Han looked into her eyes and said, “I love you” back to her, and she almost wants it as a sort of reminder that yes, this terrible war was worth it all.

Luke has plenty of little scars too from his rambunctious childhood, getting into vaporator and skyhopper guts, climbing and crashing things, living out in the sticks where bacta wasn’t even available, but nothing too crazy.  Then the war and the Dad Thing happened, and even if they could get synthflesh on a prosthetic to match his skin tone and have artificial hair and all...there’s always that line on his arm.  Even after the inflammation goes down, there really isn’t a way to blend fake skin into real seamlessly, and that demarcation is there every time he takes his clothes off, and even after he reconciles with his father it takes a long while for him to stop noticing and thinking about it in daily life, because of all the complicated feelings it brings.

The fractal erythema from the Emperor’s lightning doesn’t linger forever, but the branching, fern-like patterns take over a month to totally fade away.

[oh-sweet-mama]

Leaving my side Pt.2 (Ben solo at the end)

T.W:Sex, talk of death, slight angst

TROS spoilers 

3rd person

Awaking with a soft sound of an alarm ringing through the room, y/n stretched, only to be pulled into a warm embrace.

"Don't leave." Kylo mumbled against her neck.

"I have to go on your scouting mission." She retorted.

"Mhmm 5 more minuets. That girl can wait." Kylo mumbled back.

Y/n reached out and set the timer for 5 minutes. Sighing in content Kylo rests his head on her chest. Listening to her breathing and soft thud of her heartbeat.

Y/n played with Kylo's soft raven hair. It was fluffy in the morning and silky. Kylo's nimble fingers lazily danced along the smooth skin of y/n lower stomach.

The alarm went off in a blink of an eye.

"Don't go." Kylo mumbled. "I have the day off!"

"Well- you wanted me out there finding your girl." Y/n stated.

"Wha- you're my girl." Kylo mumbled sleepily.

"Sure Ren, I'll be back shortly, enjoy your day off." Y/n kissed Kylo's forehead before walking into the bathroom and starting her shower.

Her stomach twisted. There was something wrong.

Listen here child-

Y/n's heart beat quickened.

Your boy will die at the end of this day- so will that girl- and it will be your fault.

She shook the voice out of her ears. Quickly getting dressed and rushed to the door. Before exiting the shared room y/n looked over at Kylo. Fearing this is the last time she will see him.

She knows this is true deep down, but she decided to not accept the fact. She boarded the tie fighters and set out following the coordinates.

Kylo awoke feeling nauseous. He got up and got ready for the day.

Walking up the bridge of his command ship he announced his brief speech.

"I'm going on a mission, tell me at once when Y/n gets back with the girl at once." Kylo's voices modulator boomed.

Boarding his tie fighter Kylo set out for a planet, hoping to find a way finder he'd been looking for far to long.

——— (skip to the battle of exogol)

Kylo's heart races he never heard from his command ship weather or not y/n got back. Fighting off the knights of Ren. Rey appears.

Nodding in reassurance, Rey passed Luke's lightsaber to him. A new fire burned in Ben. Eradicating Kylo. He sprints to the throne room.

A force brings him to his knees. His life force being ripped out of him. Evil cackles fill the room as palpatine rises.

Ben motionless on the cold stone. His breathing was shallow.

Rise Kylo you've got this I love you.

Y/n's voice rings in his ear. Getting up onto his feet he swings his saber only to be flung back.

——

A orange x wing swings in knowing an exactly where to hit the star destroyers.

Her gut churred. Kylo? Ben?

She reached her mind out.

Rise Kylo you've got this I love you.

She sensed Rey.

"Shit!" Y/n slammed her fist down on her dash board. "Fuck!"

Her heart was shattering. Knowing Kylo had found the girl. She punched her X-wing in to advanced war mode. Taking out yet another star destroyer alone.

The rest of the X-wing fleet watched in awe as the rouge plane took down star destroyers.

"Some one radio that X- Wing!" Poe demanded.

Y/n opened her radio to all channels.

"Listen. Resistance. First order. Rebels. I don't give a fuck. I will take every singe one of these star destroyers down. One. By. One." ———-

Ben cradled Rey. She lay motionless.

Ben slowly passed his dwindling life force to her.

"Ben?" Rey whispered.

"Yea- yea it's me."

Rey cupped Ben's cheek and leaned into to gently kiss him.

"Shit shit shit-" y/n muttered. Time seemed to slow. Her X- Wing was out of fuel. She had to land. Y/n felt the connect between Ben and Rey complete "Goodbye Ben."

She took the landing to hot.

Ben felt the gaping hole in his chest. Tears poured.

"No!"

"Ben? Ben what's wrong?" Rey asked.

"Nothing- nothing- I've got to get you home." Ben felt lightheaded, before letting go he falls back as the world fades out. Rey catching his head.

Ben- my son- rise. Your fight is not over yet.

The noise is the cave was silent. Rey watched in anticipation.

Ben took a breath. Opening his eyes. His face was colorless. Rey stood Bens' arm over her shoulder. Most of his weight on her. Limping back to Reys X-wing Ben settles Rey on his lap, taking off glancing over for one last look at the dying planet before jumping into hyper space.

Rolling onto her back, y/n watched as the last X-wing jumped into hyperspace.

"Ben?" Y/n whispered. She felt his pull slowly fade away. She couldn't feel her legs. Where are my legs? Limbs felt like they were cemented to the rough planet.

"Hey! Kid!" A figure loomed over her. "Y/n! Kid! What happened?"

"Perit? My- my X-wing..." the world was getting darker, and the surrounding world started to fade.

"Shit- kid! Let's go." perit gently picked the frail girl up and set her down on a cot back on the ship. "Damn kid we need to stop the bleeding on this leg."

———

"Alright master Ben, here are your personal quarters, meal time is anonymous and you may join when you wish." The small aid instructed.

"Thank you." Ben said softly.

"No problem master Ben, have a wonderful evening." The aid Instructed.

He sat on his bed after he heard the aid leave and her boots recede down the hall. That's when he let it all go.

Sobs bounced off of the walls. Bens entire being trembled with pain.

"Y/n... please-" Ben sobbed. He curled up into his pillow, on top of the covers and let the tears flow. "You- can't leave me here alone." —— Ben spent days in his quarters alone. Often crying silently. Only wandering the halls late at night to find small packaged snacks.

"Shit- ow-" y/n grumbled rubbing the back of her head. "Wha- where am I?"

"You're back at the resistance base kid- ya' did it kid- that wars' over." Perit congratulates.

"You got me back here?"

"Yea- I uh saw your X- wing go down- so I went down to scoop you up- I'm sorry about the X- Wing kid- I got your droid out fine though. An your-"

"Shit my leg!" Y/n panicked.

"You're fine kid I made you a prosthetic. Just try to wear shorts or baggy clothing I'll make you a better one promise." Perit soothed.

"Yea- we can rebuild the X-wing too, I've had my eyes on an old one from the first war for a while." Y/n chewed her lip. "Want to go back to base? I need to speak to a few people, how long was I out?"

"About a good 4 weeks, I feed you and got an Iv in but that's about it. I'll stick around here and fix up your leg some more."

"I- wow. Thank you Perit." Y/n slowly rose to her feet, regaining her bearings. She slowly waded out of the ship, often stopping and leaning on a nearby tree. Y/n had rightened her posture, slowly making it through a small crowd of people.

Ben followed Poe, Rey, and Finn. Quietly observing. Feeling lingering stares. His mother had left them a small 'scavenger hunt' to help them meet some of the important places and people around the base.

"The girl you're looking for stays at a ship outside the boundaries of the base. I haven't seen or hear of her since the battle of exogol." Demi explained.

"Shit- fuck!" Y/n stumbled around her leg getting caught on random items on the ground. "Hey! Lore!"

"Oh my stars you're ok!" Another blonde girl embraced her.

"Oh- there she is- her is name is y/n," Ben's stomach dropped. Y/n? "you should follow her back to her ship- she doesn't look to good. Make sure Perits' around."

"Thank you Demi." Poe thanked. "Damn Leia really has us following a drunk girl back to a ship."

Ben noticed her leg. It seemed to be a piece of hollow metal with very basic joints, connected to the base of her knee.

After collecting supplies, y/n had better bearings. Now walking straight and seeing clearly. However her force connection was still off, unable to sense the party of people following.

"I'm back Perit-"

"Hey uh- y/n-" Poe reaches out.

"Yea? Fuck! I don't have anything for you!" Y/n turned around to be faced with Poe's confused one. Her features dropped. "Sorry for my tone Admiral. I- I thought someone else was following me."

Y/n bowed at the waist.

She turned around, but tripped on a spare part. Dropping all of the supplies she had bundled under her jacket.

"S-sorry- I'll go get the letter." She stumbled away. Picking up loose supplies.

Ben watched in awe as his nimble lover walked away, she seemed to be raised from the dead.

She dug through a small basket of journals. Drawings falling out occasionally. Y/n retrieved the lose artwork.

Beep boop trill?

"Yes the letter I'm looking for the letter from Admiral Leia." Y/n explained to her droid.

The droid opened the panel on the belly then a formally wrapped letter popped out.

"Here sorry for the delay." Y/n apologized "I'm Y/n y/m/n Kenobi, I assisted Admiral Leia, I am not at your service, however I was formally asked to assist master Ben."

Ben's heart skipped beats when his named rolled off of her tongue like honey.

"You! You're the one that is messing with me and Bens' bond!" Rey stormed up to y/n.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act stupid! You know!"

"Rey sit!" Ben demands.

"I didn't do anything. 3 years ago, admiral Leia sent me on a spy mission straight into the lions den. The first order. I knew she wanted me to bring her son back, but that was never an order. When I first came into contact with Kylo Ren I felt a pull to him. The force wanted me and Ben together. Not Ben and Rey. However I would never get Ben back to The light if I told him this. The force bonds began to connect us. I sensed Reys power of a palpatine." Y/n paused, rubbing her palms together.

Poe, and Finn leaned into Y/n intrigued in her story.

Y/n continued, "I forced a connection between Rey and Ben. To get Ben back. I sacrificed my life for this. I wasn't even supposed to make it off of exogol. Leia knew that Rey was just a scavenger with a complicated past. I was once a scavenger too, on planet of Tatoonie. I'm sorry. I was think about the fate of the galaxy. Not feelings. If I wouldn't have eradicated Kylo Ren, the entire galaxy would be gone."

It was silent. Quiet. Even the droids were holding their breath.

"Oh Y/n" Ben rose to his feet walking over to her. And wrapping his arms around her, "I- I thought I lost you. I felt you go down- I felt the X- wing go down. I felt the bond too, but I didn't know if it was just me falling for you. Which I did anyways."

Light airy chuckles escaped Ben.

"Ben. Ben not here. We must get you back to base. Quickly before the creatures roam their native land." Y/n quickly taking Bens hand and a flashlight. Her prosthetic was uneven from the other real leg. Causing her to have a limp.

——

After wishing goodnight to Poe and Finn. Ben felt Rey's lingering stare. She had fallen for him. But Ben is confused and hurt. He needed someone he could trust.

Y/n had controlled the information passed between the force bond.

Ben punched in his code gently pulling Y/n into his quarters.

"I- I thought I lost you." Ben repeated.

"I know, I know." Y/n soothed. Ben sobbed softly before gently pulling Y/n into his lap. Gently caressing the cool metal of her prothetic, it reminded him of when she used to kiss his mask.

"Be careful of my leg I don't want to hurt you."

"You'll never hurt me."

Flipping positions, Ben gently kissed down her neck.

"I better mark you up." Ben growled lowly.

Pulling her shirt off over y/n's head he kissed a faint line of hickeys down her chest. Before unclasping her bra.

Ben attached his mouth to her right nipple while applying pressure to the other one.

"Shit Ben-"

He traveled down.

"Only shorts huh?"

"Oh shut up- I can't wear pants till I get a better prosthetic."

"Mhmm trying to temp me?"

"Hmm no."

Ripping her shorts and panties off in one slide, Ben crawled back up to kiss her lips hungrily. Y/n wrapped her arms gently around his neck pulling him deeper into their kiss.

Though he kissed down her jaw leaving light hickeys.

"I've missed you." He moans lightly against her collar bone.

"So have I Ben-"

Ben makes dark hickeys down her sternum and along the valley of her breasts. As he makes his way to her heat, gentle love bite shook pleasure through Y/n.

"Shit- Ben." Y/n moaned. Truth be told Ben loves her moans, even as Kylo. He's never heard something so sweet and innocent even when he was sinning between her thighs.

Ben continued down her stomach and onto her thighs. Passing her throbbing core.

"Ben please-" Y/n hated to beg, but she needed. The burning desire and passion she's held back so long was finally freed. She was Bens' and Ben was hers'.

Ben finally landed a simple kiss to her clit. Before launching his attack of love. Licking a long stripe up her core she clutches the sheets. Every whimper goes straight to Ben's cock.

His pants getting tighter by the second. Teasing her entrance with his finger he sucks harshly at her clit. Earning her Moans and whimpers of pleasure to bounce off the walls.

Y/n's nimble fingers rake through Ben's hair lightly tugging.

"Ben- please." She lightly tugged him up to her face. The tip of his nose and lips slick with arousal .

"Always so good for me baby girl." The praise goes straight to y/n's awaiting core.

"Please- fuck me Ben."

"As you wish." He slips his pants off followed by his shirt tossing them somewhere in the room. Ben laces his fingers into hers, before slowly pushing into her.

"F-fuck. Shit- princess- always taking this cock so good." Ben moans. The praises wet y/n further.

"Ben!" Y/n moans, feeling complete with his hips flush against hers. "Please go-" Y/n whimpers.

Ben starts a slow maddening rhythm before starting to pound into her. Releasing his grip on her hands, on hand flies to her to the other resting on the head board.

Stars dance in y/n's vision. Before she knew it her high was within reach.

"Ben I'm close." She moans.

"I know princess go ahead I'm almost there." Ben bucks his hips into hers before coating her walls with his seed. Gently pulling out her fishes a new pair of boxers out of his drawer and one of his tunics. Followed by a damp cloth to clean the arousal off of both of them.

After getting cleaned up. Ben hands y/n his tunic, relishing how small she appears in them. He pulls the Boxers up his strong legs, the. Retrieved a fresh warm blanket to wrap themselves in.

Slipped into the bed with the drowsy Y/n.

"Cuddles?"

"Of course princess."

Ben cradled her in his arms the blanket snuggled close to them. Ben felt- happy? His heart was warm, just like her. He was truly happy and in love, for the first time.

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse. 

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife. 

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement -  don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered,  “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”  

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”  

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

[kelliangrey-ffxivrp]

Prompt #30 - Darkness

This one is set ~15 years in the future and as such is total fanfiction. Wanted to try and explore something else for Kel and write up something dark and apocalyptic while I was at it. It’s a bit long, just shy of 3000 words, so I’m gonna stick it under a read-more. Thanks to those who check it out!

Today, we change the end.

And if it was up to me, 

I’d rewrite history

And change my destiny,

One last time. ---

“Commander! Commander Grey!” 

Kellian turned his head enough to catch a single eyeful of the approaching woman. A thick wad of parchment in her grip seemed to indicate the approach of new orders, but the scarred veteran was hardly sure he cared. He stepped down from the lip of the blasted-out trenchworks, stepping past the terrified men and women under his command. Blessed with a look of near-eternal youth, the almost-fifty year old Seeker still resembled a younger man, though the grey streaks through his blue hair gave more credence to his surname. A lifetime of hard lessons had turned the man’s exterior cold, but he still found the time for those that needed him. 

Right now, the whole damn world needed him. 

It had been four years since it started. People disappearing. It was luckier if a family member or friend just disappeared, actually. Worse to find them horribly butchered. Worse still to find the body mostly intact, but possessed by something else. Walking and talking as if alive, but with a far more sinister agenda. Kellian had been fortunate, in a way, to have been close to one of the first of these ‘visitors’. Creatures, spirits almost, from a darker reflection of the realm he and his friends call home. Even with such a warning, however, he’d been almost powerless to stop the inevitable darkness that even now grew upon the horizon. Even though it made his skin crawl, Kellian turned his eyes toward it. 

Through dark ritual, the possessed carved a wound in the space between worlds. That wound now lay before him, a bilious mass of dark, foetid cloud that poisoned everything it came near. Worse, it birthed nightmare creatures with too many eyes, and far too many limbs. Kellian reached up to trace a worn finger over the scar on his neck. 

Too many claws, too.

“Commander!” 

The call drew him out of his reverie, and he finally looked at the messenger. “What is it?” He asked, taking the sheaf of papers from the spent youth. He barely even had to glance at them to see what they contained. Orders to withdraw. “No.” He said simply, handing the papers back.

“But sir-” 

“Do you see that?!” Kellian barked, rounding on the messenger and pointing back the way they had come. There was a city, there. An old one, that meant a lot to him. Most of the people had left as the darkness slowly encroached upon the once-green earth, but the old, the poor and the infirm hadn’t yet had enough of a chance to pack up and leave. Those that had been brave or strong enough had joined Kellian at the trenches. He’d armed them. Taught them how to fire, how to reload, how to kill at range. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to stop the next wave of creatures, but if it was enough to let the rest of the city’s residents escape, then it would be worth it. 

“There are still families back there! Families that’ll become lunch, or worse, if we don’t do anything about this now! You cannot tell me that the Grand Companies plan to just sit idly by and let this cloud consume the world!” 

“The Grand Companies-” 

“Want to consolidate power and forces around the capital. I know.” Kellian finished, turning to spit on the earth. Idiots. It wouldn’t be enough. Another town, another two or three villages, and there would be no stopping this horde from beyond the gap between stars. Those people that went missing - where did the grand companies expect that they ended up? How did they imagine that these creatures ended up with so many familiar-looking limbs? Every death fuelled that dark war machine. Kellian imagined that there might have already been too many. 

“Listen up!” Kellian bellowed. He might be resigned to die here, but he couldn’t bring himself to damn the rest of them. If they were cowards, they’d break anyway; and that would be worse. “Soon there’ll be another wave. Another mess of nightmares. I don’t know if we can put them down before they overrun us - but I for one am going to bloody try! There are familes - women and children - behind us that need us to hold these things off long enough for them to get away. I know you’re scared. I know you want to be on the next airship out of here. And I don’t blame you.” He said, drawing the gunblade at his back from its sheath. The ornate weapon caught what little light there was, and seemed to shine as if catching the sun’s rays - though the sun had long since stopped shining on this forsaken corner of the world. Kellian held the weapon aloft.  “Any man or woman who wants to flee now, may do so. I’m not joking. You want to leave… leave.” He said solemnly, shoving the fresh orders back into the arms of the messenger as he strode toward trench, a short hop carrying him over the gap and to the killing field on the far side. The clawed toes of his prosthetic foot dug into the soiled earth before the other boot crunched down. “But I’m staying. These *things* - whatever intelligence drives them - it thinks it knows how this ends! It thinks it knows the strength of our people, and it has this chapter written and closed. I’ve heard the doomsayers claim that this is destiny. You know what I say?” Kellian asked, spreading his arms and turning to the many fearful eyes looking up at him, clutching rifles for dear life. 

“I say fuck destiny! If the end is written, then let us tear up the page and write it anew! Are you with me?!” 

The cheer of approval - and Kellian was glad to see that nearly everyone had decided to stay - was drowned out by a curdling, piercing scream from beyond the veil of darkness before them. It was a howl filled with such deep anguish, such pain, that it tightened the throats and chilled the hearts of all who heard it. It washed over the plains, and Kellian knew that the time for rousing speeches was well and truly over. He sheathed his Gunblade - Inexorable - the shining weapon little use to him at a longer range. He took a quick step backwards and dropped into the trench beside his rag-tag group of defenders. Some expert monster hunters carried two swords upon their backs, different styles of blades providing different effectiveness against certain creatures. Kellian followed a similar philosophy. Pushing the gunblade’s sheath aside enough, he gripped the stock of the long-barreled rifle that lay beneath it, drawing the artfully carved firearm out into the open, the sleek black killing tool was easily long enough to rest on the lip of the trench. Kellian sighed down the magitek scope, the cool green of the lense already starting to pick up movement in the black cloud ahead.

That howl again.

“Steady!” Commander Kellian ‘Leadfang’ Grey bellowed down the line. To his left and right, his militia were preparing the weapons he’d only had two days to train them with. They were doing him proud, so far. 

So far.

Distant thunder began, and for a few moments Kellian thought they might have to deal with rain as well; but he swiftly realised that, no, this was no thunder. It was the pounding of innumerable feet. His blue-furred ears lowered at the sound, instinct setting his nerves on edge. He growled back, and didn’t even realise he was doing it until a man to his left gave him a worried glance. He sighted the battlefield again. One didn’t need an advanced scope, now - the movement ahead was clear. Writhing limbs, lashing tentacles and gnashing fangs occasionally caught his eye amid the mass of terror-creatures approaching at a dead sprint.

“Steady!” Grey barked again, clicking the safety off his black rifle. The rifles held by the militia didn’t have safeties. Kellian didn’t want them to have to stress over another complication in the act of killing - point and shoot. That was all they had to do. Just point, and shoot.

The creatures were close now. Almost close enough.

“Take aim!” Kellian roared. Almost. Almost.

“Fire!” He barked, pulling his own trigger to punctuate the command. His shot ripped clean through the misshapen skull of a thing that was once a person, and it fell limp. There was no time to celebrate. Only enough time to fire again. Kellian’s breathing became shallow, each exhalation accompanied by another killshot. It didn’t really matter how well those under his command were faring. All that mattered was that they aimed, and fired. Creatures fell in droves, their black glossy skin stained with an impossibly blacker blood as each round punched through skin and into tainted flesh. For every one that died, two more seemed to take its place, roaring and screaming with as much mindless fury as the one before it. There would only be so many, though. Kellian knew that. It was one thing that the Grand Companies didn’t seem to understand; there was only ever a set number of these creatures. As if the Darkness could only birth so many at a time. They seemed endless. Indeed, there were probably too many to accurately count. That was just a fear tactic. 

Kellian’s fear had died years ago.

They were close now, starting to fall dead a few yalms away from the lip of the trench. His rifle spent of ammunition, Kellian knew it would take too long to reload, and so he abandoned it. Digging his clawed foot into the side of the trench, he roared with effort and defiance as he hauled himself free of the dugout and onto the killing field proper. Inexorable left its sheath once again as the silvered gunblade returned to its true home; in his hand. He brushed aside the cloth of his long coat to reveal a heavy-caliber, short-nosed firearm built after the Makai style that had been revolutionary fifteen years ago - though the art of killing from a distance had come a long way since then. He drew the hand-cannon into his left hand and began firing indiscriminately into the crowd of voidborne creatures. The militia kept firing behind him and the risk of friendly fire was not minimal, but Kellian didn’t care. He drove forward. A claw lashed out at him and he ducked it, his gunblade slashing upward to sever the limb, while his hand-cannon turned to fire a round through another fanged skull. 

Age had not seen Kellian get any slower. Aetheric ink on his body kept his surging energy at its peak. He would never be as fast as his sister, or possess as much raw strength as his wife, but he had always been precise. Killing had always been as much about talent as it was about skill, and he had both to spare. It helped that he had been fighting these things since they’d first appeared. Their wild savagery was, ironically, predictable. 

Another monster lunged forward to sink fangs into his shoulder, but caught a mouth full of cold steel instead as he thrust his gunblade deep into the creature’s maw. Pulling the weapon’s trigger released the energy stored in one of the charged cartridges, and Kellian roared with effort as he sprang upwards, wrenching the weapon out of the top of the monster’s skull and up into the air. He continued the arc, twisting to bring it down hard onto the head of another, spilling more of whatever passed for their brain matter onto the diseased ground. His sidearm wove under his slashing arm, covering his side with a precise shot to the head of a creature with too many eye sockets and not enough eyes to fill them. Whirling, he pulled Inexorable’s trigger again, the surge of energy passing through the blade and his arm as one as he span on the spot, ripping his blade through meat and bone as if both were paper. 

Kellian couldn’t see the trench anymore. Whatever monsters weren’t stopping to try and consume him were carrying on toward the village. He’d done what he could to help. Defiance would only get one so far and eventually destiny would have its due. It didn’t matter. Little mattered. 

The only thing that could stand against the darkness was the strength to keep fighting.

The scant second he’d spent thinking of other things had already cost him. A limb that ended in a bony spike punched through his coat, grazing the reinforced vest that protected his torso. It didn’t penetrate, but scarred the woven cloth enough that another blow to that spot might prove fatal. Kellian swore they wouldn’t get another chance. He drove Inexorable up through the jaw of the creature that had tried to stab him, flicking the release catch on the gunblade’s chamber. The spent cartridges sprang free, past Kellian’s head and into the maw of a snapping creature behind him; still burning with arcane force, they seared the monster’s black mouth and throat, sending it howling as it tried to shake them free. Ducking beneath a slashing bone-scythe, Kellian pressed Inexorable’s open chamber against the bandolier at his side, magnetic studs drawing two more charged cartridges into the waiting slots. With a snap, the weapon closed. He was about to begin the dance again, when a loud, thrumming whine caught his ear - something that managed to pierce the din of howling, screaming nightmares. He spent three quick cuts to give himself a second to look - and he caught the source of the noise immediately. 

The Guardian Edge. 

The imposing airship hovered above the battlefield, its engines whining with the strain of keeping it aloft at such a low altitude. Smiles were rare from Kellian these days, but he allowed one. 

That smile vanished as he saw that the Guardian’s main gun was pointed straight at him, and charging fast. 

Damn that Admiral.

Kellian broke into a sprint. Somehow he’d ended up damn far away from the trenches - not that they would help much. It seemed that those of the militia who hadn’t been overrun had fled as the creature’s reached them.

He was alone, now. Alone in a sea of darkness.

He stopped, turning hard and driving his weapon into the guts of a creature that had pounced at him, wrenching the blade free with a grunt as he spilled hot innards over the cold earth. The insistent whining of the Guardian’s main gun was getting steadily louder. He knew that gun well; he was basically its father. He had seconds, at best. Firing the gunblade’s trigger gave him another surge of energy, and he leapt high over the surging monsters, coming down in a hard landing that scattered a few of the creatures back as he slammed the length of the gunblade down into the earth. With room to breathe, he raised his blade - and pointed it right at the Guardian Edge above. Even an ornate blade such as Inexorable had little weight when compared to the looming airship above. 

Kellian wasn’t trying to shoot the thing down, however. 

Setting his jaw, the veteran seeker closed his eyes to the howling mass swarming around and past him. He ignored it when a slashing limb almost took his ear off. A bone spike punching through his abdomen hardly registered. He was busy listening, listening for that tell-tale sound. 

And there it was.

A sound like tearing paper split the sky as the Edge’s main cannon fired. The beam was bright enough to blind. As it hurtled toward him, Kellian pulled his gunblade’s trigger. Rather than expel energy outwards, however, it surged into him. A barrier shimmered into existence around his form, shearing clear the limbs that had dared invade his personal space. The Guardian Edge’s shot hit the earth, a thunderous impact that chased away the dark mass. Kellian grit his teeth, maintaining the barrier his only focus as the sheer force of the impact threatened to knock him off his feet. 

It was over in seconds. Sick earth and nightmare creatures had been replaced with a scene of utter desolation. Were it not for his own barrier, Kellian would have been obliterated. 

Letting out a breath, Kellian let the barrier drop and sank to his knees, panting. 

He was the only thing left alive on the field. 

He sank his blade into the earth and let it rest there. He’d poured all but the barest sliver of energy into that impenetrable barrier, and now he was spent; but he’d survived.

Yet again, he’d survived the Darkness.

[ergomaria]

The Past is Gone (but something might be found) - Preview

(Almost nobody reads this blog, so I can post spoiler-y stuff without too much fear. I’m currently working on something that absolutely delights me, even if nobody else will appreciate it.)

The planet had a strong connection to the living Force, so there was a good chance that whatever Alek was sensing belonged to one of the locals. His shuttle’s scanners had revealed several settlements across the vast jungle, indicating that there was at least one sentient species. Perhaps they would have more information about what could have happened to the Hawk’s crew. Drawing a breath, he desperately hoped that his reputation as a tyrant and murderer hadn’t spread here. If it had, he supposed that he could use fear to pry out any information.

Slipping into the dense foliage, Alek kept one hand hovering near his hip where his lightsaber was concealed beneath his cloak. He could feel the comforting thrum of the crystal, a more than generous gift from Vann during a time when the other man owed him absolutely nothing. It served as a strange reminder of who they once were, even if those memories could sometimes be painful. But things could be worse. At least he had memories. Shaking his head, he refocused his attention on the surrounding jungle, sensing that the Force signatures were much closer than before. Apparently, the individuals were on the move and headed towards him. Tensing, he mentally prepared himself for whatever confrontation might occur.

The last thing Alek expected was for a blur of black-and-gray to hit his chest with astounding speed, the sheer inertia enough to knock him down despite his size. His eyes blurred for a moment as the back of his head struck the soil and when his vision returned he thought for sure he was hallucinating.

Sitting on Alek’s chest with his cyan lightsaber drawn was Vann… or at least Vann as he’d been in his late teenage years. Deran, some horribly traitorous part of his mind whispered. The boy couldn’t be older than seventeen or eighteen, his face losing the very last of its childish softness and his limbs graceful yet seemingly too long for his body. By this age, he’d finally grown into his looks and he was undeniably handsome, though in an oddly innocent way. For whatever reason, he was still wearing his spacer clothing even though it was slightly too loose on his leaner frame. The main ‘saber of his adult self was grasped confidently in his right hand, the second hilt still clipped to his belt as he hadn’t mastered Jar-Kai until his twenties.

“See, I told you there was someone here!” Glaring out towards the trees, the teen never lowered his weapon. His voice, and how Alek had missed it, still had the crisper accent of his youth without the Outer Rim drawl that he’d acquired during his time as a mercenary.

It was the sheer shock that kept Alek still and quiet, his brain completely failing to process what his eyes were seeing. Things didn’t get any better as two more figures appeared out of the vegetation, both teenagers of roughly the same age. One was a boy, broad-shouldered but a still a bit too slim for his ridiculous jacket to fit properly. That had to be Onai. Stars, the resemblance to Dustil was actually disturbing. The other figure was much smaller, almost delicate in appearance since she had yet to pack on muscle from frontline fighting and trekking across hostile worlds. Her blue eyes were wide as she half-hid behind the taller teen and his matched set of pistols.

Reaching out his awareness, Alek nearly choked at what he sensed. The two Force signatures that he’d distantly recognized had been Vann and Meetra, or at least how they’d appeared through the Force at this age. The former was still astonishingly bright, though he lacked the chilled cloud of darkness that he’d acquired throughout the Mandalorian Wars. The latter… It almost brought tears to Alek’s eyes to sense the shimmering radiance of Meetra before Malachor, her presence bright and blooming. His golden Consular was back in all of her glory rather than limping along as a walking wound in the Force.

“Who are you and why are you here?” Vann, or at least his teenage self, was bringing his lightsaber ever closer to Alek’s prosthetic, his expression fierce though his dark eyes were uncertain.

Once again, the former Sith’s brain stuttered to a halt. How could anyone not know him? He was probably the most recognizable man in the galaxy thanks to his scalp tattoos and prosthetic jaw. It was impossible! Unless…

It was probably a bad sign how easily Alek’s mind adapted to the impossible. Something had clearly been damaged by the Star Forge because he was already considering the idea that this trio had been turned, mind and body, back to the people they were as teenagers. If that were the case, it was understandable if they didn’t recognize him. He’d been so changed by age and his own experiences that he bore no resemblance to the black-haired Jedi he’d once been. He was a stranger to them all. A large, scarred, fairly dark stranger.

This could end very poorly.

Alek fleetingly considered giving the teens his real name even though it would only raise more questions, most of which he couldn’t answer and some that he just didn’t want to. The longer he thought about it the more he realized that this situation had far too many variables for him to even begin explaining his complicated history with the adults that these teenagers became. For now, he just needed the trio to trust him, at least until he could get them back to their allies. Unfortunately, he’d never had Vann’s talent for improvisation or Meetra’s gift with honeyed words. That had to be why he blurted out, “My name is Naver!”

Apparently, the Star Forge had also caused his intelligence to plummet. ‘Naver’ was just ‘Revan’ backward.

“Are you a Jedi?” Meetra was slowly creeping out from Onasi’s shadow, her eyes falling to the lightsaber hilt that had been uncovered by Vann’s flying tackle. Next, she took in his nondescript brown cloak, her awareness drifting out like a warm breeze.

Given the clues, it was a reasonable enough question. It was also the best cover identity Alek could think of. “I am. I was passing by this planet and I sensed distress… some type of disruption in the Force. I came down to check that everything was alright. Is it?”

Narrowing his eyes, Vann also examined the former Sith through the Force. “What did you say your name was? I don’t recognize you, and I live on Coruscant.”

“Do you know every Jedi in the Order?” Arching a brow, Alek was pleased to see how quickly the question unbalanced the teen’s bravado. “And no, you wouldn’t know me. I’m a Sentinel who spends most of my time at the edges of known space. I come to Coruscant once a year at most and it’s rare that I stay for more than a few days.”

It was a reasonable lie for two reasons. The first was that it would excuse some of Alek’s darkness. He wouldn’t be the first Jedi to ‘go gray’ from time spent away from the main Order. It would also help to explain his unusual lightsaber should he need to wield it. Orange was close enough to yellow that he could probably think of an appropriate explanation.

“So, uh, do you know this guy?” Teenage Onasi sounded remarkably less uptight, his eyes shining playfully.

“No, but if he’s a Knight of the Order we should be able to trust him.” Stars, Alek had forgotten how naive Meetra had been before the war.

“We don’t have any proof that we can trust him!” Still eyeing the ‘Sentinel’ with a healthy dose of skepticism, Vann gestured for the blonde to stay back. “I know for a fact that anyone can buy a ‘saber on the black market just to claim that they’re a Jedi.”

It was time to take a risk, at least if Alek wanted to figure out what was going on. “Deran, right? Master Kavar told me about you the last time I was on Coruscant. He was very impressed by your remarkable progress in Juyo.” It was a vague enough statement that it should land well with either of the teenage Jedi.

“You know Kavar?” Meetra arched a brow, clearly torn between caution and curiosity.

“Of course I do. Even Sentinels have to train with the Battle Master on occasion.” Nodding to the figure still sitting on his chest, Alek added, “And of course, almost everyone knows about the Order’s prodigy… Even if the complaints sometimes outweigh the praise.”

This slight dig was enough to make Vann grow pale, a mixture of embarrassment and abject horror dawning across his features. He quickly masked it again as he jumped to his feet and backed away. “Er, well, I… I was just being cautious. To protect the others since they’re probably less capable.”

Alek had only intended to sound like the various Knights he remembered from childhood, most of who chided any Padawan they met as a reminder to be mindful. But he’d forgotten how poorly Vann, or he supposed it was currently Deran, had handled their critiques. As an apology, he hastily added, “You’re wise to be cautious. Never trust a stranger, even if they have a seemingly friendly face.” A sardonic laugh unintentionally burst forth. “Not that my face is anywhere near friendly.”

(PLOT: Vann, Meetra, and Carth touch the wrong thing at the wrong shrine and are turned into themselves at 18. Alek finds himself paying his penance to the Force when he has to simultaneously watch over the trio while trying to figure out how to restore them to their proper ages.)

[benmendo]

Captain Marvel Mendo review round-up (pt 1?)

Ben Mendelsohn’s Talos is so great, and a huge improvement and complete change from the comic original. He’s played many genre villains by now, from Star Wars to Ready Player One, but here he’s given perhaps his best yet. Much of the marketing focused on Jude Law’s Yon-Rogg, but Talos is the character people will remember long after the credits finish rolling. [x]

But the film’s MVP is without a doubt Ben Mendelsohn, resplendent in layers of lizardy prosthetics as the Skrull leader Talos but still sporting his indomitable Aussie charm. He’s given much more to do here than in his last high-profile Hollywood gig, Ready Player One, and appears to be having an absolute blast doing it. [x]

Mendelsohn's Talos will be a surprise to Marvel comics die-hards, but a welcome one – he's a far cry from a traditional MCU villain, but what he lacks in deviousness he makes up for in a genuinely charming sense of humor. He doesn't quite fall in line with other recent villains like Zemo with his devious plot and tragic past or Vulture with his take-no-prisoners family loyalty, but he's cut from a very similar cloth with motivations that stem from complicated, surprisingly nuanced places and give him a real depth of character. [x]

Mendelsohn, re-teaming with Boden and Fleck, plays the film’s chief villain, Talos, a shapeshifting Skrull (a new kind of alien plucked from the comics world) and manages to do something fascinating with the role. So many Marvel bad guys are anonymous, but Mendelsohn is the clear stand-out of Captain Marvel’s supporting cast—a darkly funny, world-weary lizard monster whose lidless eyes belie hidden depths. [x]

It’s a good thing that the Skrulls are more than meets the eye, because their leader — Talos — is asked to shoulder most of the film’s emotional burden. Giving the best performance in a movie that relies on its excellent cast to compensate for its empty characters, the ever-reliable Ben Mendelsohn elevates Talos into a genuine menace, first in his reptilian form and then as a Ben Mendelsohn-looking body snatcher once Carol escapes from his clutches and crashlands into Los Angeles circa 1995. [x]

However, by far the smartest creative decision is casting Ben Mendelsohn as head Skrull, Talos; not only does the villain also get some amusing comedic moments due to earthly inexperience, he’s also another morally complex individual that shows Marvel is continuing to step up their bad guy game. The only issue is that he’s not exactly well-written (after the movie you will probably question his motivations at various junctures of the story realizing that not everything adds up as soundly as it should), and that it’s mostly the acting talent of Ben Mendelsohn alone (he also gave an incredible performance working with the directors on the underseen Mississippi Grind) that gets you invested in his emotional character arc. This also might be heresy to state about Marvel’s first female-led superhero movie, but he’s easily the best character.

Further confirmation arrives that Ben Mendelsohn is doing his best to salvage a by-the-numbers origin story script when it becomes apparent that other subplots involving supporting characters don’t really register as anything substantial. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn steals the show as Skrull leader Talos, who becomes the film’s shapeshifting MVP thanks to signature “Ben Men” charms that are sweeter than the milkshake he’s seen drinking. [x]

A chase ensues as more Skrulls have landed looking for her, led by Talos, portrayed to perfection by Ben Mendelsohn. [x]

On the other side is Ben Mendelsohn’s Talos, the Skrull leader and primary antagonist. Even though he’s often hidden under an inflexible mask that wouldn’t look out of place on Doctor Who, Mendelsohn manages to do something different with this role, evading cliché and earning a pass for taking yet another big bad role. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn as the Skrull leader Talos forces you to challenge your preconceptions without an ounce of contrivance. [x]

She also strikes up a fun rivalry with the wily Skrull commander Talos, played by a superb Ben Mendelsohn, who sells his full face mask of preposterous lime green prosthetics simply by acting as if he isn’t wearing any at all. [x]

Then Ben Mendelsohn shows up as a particularly crafty Skrull named Talos, and he starts stealing scenes from Jackson....  Mendelsohn and Jackson are both so funny, they’re basically worth seeing all on their own. [x]

Both Ben Mendelsohn's Skrull leader, Talos, and Goose the cat are also bound to be fan-favorites, though there isn't a lot that can be said about either role without spoiling too much of the plot. [x]

And a huge reason this movie works is Ben Mendelsohn, of all people. (I say “of all people” because, under his green Skrull makeup, a lot of people might not even realize he’s under there until they see the movie.) Mendelsohn plays Talos, the leader of the Skrulls sent to Earth to look for Carol. When I first heard he was cast in this role I was a little worried! All too often, great actors kind of get lost in these type of alien/villain roles – but Mendelsohn brings a humanity (Skrullanity?) to this role I was not at all expecting. And it’s no wonder why Boden and Fleck wanted to work with Mendelsohn here again. We are all better off as a society now that Ben Mendelsohn is part of the MCU. (We will talk a lot more about this role after audiences see the movie. There are a lot of surprises I wouldn’t want to spoil.) [x]

Mendelsohn provides another solid source of humor in the film. The CG-assisted Skrull morphing is a wonderful effect, tinged with body horror, but the physical Skrull prosthetics seem to have impeded their actors somewhat. Talos’ face might have moved like a demon on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but Mendelsohn imbues him with the charm of a fan-favorite Star Trek role. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn has been feeling a bit typecast in antagonistic roles (see Rogue One, Ready Player One), but brings a fresh, fun energy to the shapeshifting villain Talos. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn as the antagonistic Talos, for example, totally flips the script on your expectation for him, playing the character with the strength of a military leader, but also injecting him with a weird comedic wryness and attitude that changes the energy of each of his scenes for the better. [x]

She’s well-matched by an antagonist played by Ben Mendelsohn, sorry, meant to write BEN MENDELSOHN! The wonderful Australian actor has lately earned some good beach house money, I hope, with sniveling baddie turns in Rogue Oneand Ready Player One. His role in Captain Marvel is something different, and something special. We meet him as a Skrull with one accent, and then he’s a “human” with another accent. [x]

Last but not least, let’s talk about Mendelsohn. The Australian actor is clearly having the time of his life playing the shape-shifting Skrull, using the opportunity to shift between accents and personas at the flip of a coin. Mendelsohn seems to be the only one aware that he is in a movie about blue aliens fighting shape-shifting reptiles, and hams it up to the nth degree, chewing scenery like he was a starving man. His roughshod, Australian-accented Talos is an unexpected source of great comedy and heart, and a scene-stealer for every minute he’s onscreen. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn’s scene-stealing Skrull boss Talos is also quite the gem of an addition. [x]

And Ben Mendelsohn, as the Skrull commander Talos, makes some of the film’s most memorable choices. [x]

Ben Mendelsohn's Aussie accent is a little bit weird as the Skrull leader, Talos, but he brings some surprising layers to that character best left unspoiled. [x]

And as Talos, the shapeshifting extraterrestrial after Carol's secrets, Ben Mendelsohn emerges as Captain Marvel's secret weapon — a mustache-twirling villain with hidden depths, and a mischievous sense of humor to boot. [x]

[douxreviews]

Star Trek: The Next Generation - ‘Gambit, Part 1′ Review

From the complicated cold open to an undercover operation on a pirate ship, this episode was Next Gen clearly trying to do something completely different.

So let's start at the beginning.

The Enterprise crew, in casual, drapey civilian clothes and messy hair, were checking out the Star Wars cantina-like bar where Picard was killed. This was a bit less effective than it could have been, since the audience was very aware that Picard couldn't be dead. Although I really have to applaud the extensive alien makeups here. Next Gen usually gave us what we called "face aliens," actors with a limited amount of makeup and prosthetics on their faces. They went all out this time.

Back at the ship while everyone was mourning Picard, Troi was literally screaming at Riker, which I thought might be inappropriate behavior for a mental health professional. Riker decided to postpone Enterprise's latest mission and continue investigating Picard's death, and oddly, Starfleet let him do it. I did enjoy new first officer Data using Riker's argument about captains not leading away teams against him, even though it was unsuccessful. It was also fun to see Data in command for most of the episode. Is Data too unemotional to function successfully as a ship's captain? He did seem a bit too rigid.

Note that Data was right about Riker leading an away team, since Riker indeed jumped directly into danger when he was taken by the pirates, headed by an alien named Baran (Richard Lynch) who kept his minions under control with pain patches on their necks. And surprise! One of those minions was Jean-Luc Picard in an exciting new costume, calling himself "Galen."

I'm a fan of Patrick Stewart's and I bet he enjoyed playing a character that was Picard's opposite. In fact, Stewart is so good that we could see Picard subtly telegraphing what he was doing to Riker as he trashed Riker's reputation as a Starfleet officer and recommended killing him, right before setting up a situation that would make Riker an asset to the crew. Jonathan Frakes did a good job here too, as Riker mostly concealed his shock and managed to play along.

I also liked Picard making a not-so-subtle attempt to recruit Tallera, his Romulan crewmate. Although the cliffhanger at the end of the episode ("Fire!") arrived before we learned much of anything about why the pirates were after Romulan artifacts. Stay tuned for part two.

Bits:

— Stardate 47135.2. Dessica 2 and Barradas 3, plus the pirate starship.

— Extensive phaser gunfight. Yet another thing they never do on Next Gen.

— And speaking of phasers, how about that phaser-as-secret-transporter thing? Very cool idea.

— Robin Curtis (Tallera) replaced Kirstie Alley as Saavik in the original series Star Trek movies The Search for Spock (1984) and The Voyage Home (1986). It was nice to see her again. (This episode originally aired in 1993, by the way.)

— Note also Sabrina LeBoeuf from The Cosby Show, who had a lot of uncomfortable dialogue to spout at Ops.

— One thing I didn't notice but discovered while reading up on this episode: Riker got the alien Yranac from the bar to talk, and note what Yranac's name is spelled backward.

— In the original series, Spock's lack of emotion and difficulty in dealing with command was brought up more than once. I kept thinking about it during Data's command scenes.

— During the conference room scene, Data steepled his fingers. Was he deliberately mimicking Picard?

Quotes:

Riker: "This is not about revenge. This is about justice. The captain died in a bar fight for nothing. Somebody has to answer for that. Then, I can mourn."

Data: "If Captain Picard were here..." Riker: "He's not." Data: "I realize that, sir. But if he were and he wanted to lead an away team, you would tell him that the captain's place..." Riker: "...is on the bridge. Not this time."

I don't remember exactly how this two-parter ended, so I don't feel I can rate part one fairly. But I did enjoy it a lot more than "Descent." Maybe it should have been the sixth season finale,

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

10, 11, and 45 for the OC ask meme?

Thanks!

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design? 

Most of my OCs are pretty normal humans, but there’s two that have some pretty complicated elements going on. Alastair’s first prosthetic arm and leg were designed by bird aliens who had never seen a human before, so I still need to do a bit of worldbuilding before I can design those properly (beyond a few thoughts like ‘they probably had trouble with primate hands and feet and approximated with something more claw-like’). And then there’s Jay, who in addition to having minor shapeshifting powers also has a bad habit of mixing and matching clothes from not just multiple decades but multiple centuries, so working out how they dress is going to be an interesting challenge. And that’s before factoring in the hodgepodge of equipment and protective gear that they use as a member of an organisation that deals with fairies and magical creatures.

Oh yeah, and then there’s the entire race of bird aliens to which one major OC and a lot of minor ones belong to, that I still need to draw for the first time but have been avoiding because speculative biology and non-human anatomy isn’t quite my area.

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?

Charlie. He’s cheerful, funny and one of those people who is everyone’s friend because he’s just a Good Dude.

45. A character you no longer use?

I have a bunch of old Star Wars OCs that I never really did anything with and should probably revisit. The most developed ones were a master-and-padawan Jedi duo who were rather good fun. I also had an entire crew of Star Trek OCs that I had totally forgotten about until just now...