#✧･ﾟ we can navigate the stars to bring us back home { thread } ✧･ﾟ

[earnestly-endlessly]

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[umbraastaff]

It descends like a cloud, and as they look back from the fleeing Starblaster, it’s... weirdly hard to focus on. Every time Barry thinks he’s focused on one part, it’s a different color, a different shape, a mismatched and jumpy block of static.

“What the-- Byte, uh-- scan that?”

The Rotom dex heeds him, floating up by his shoulder and beeping as it processes.

Then it plays recorded audio of a fire alarm (Barry can recognize his own voice under the sound, shouting after a lab accident had set off the sprinklers). Then other, jittery audio clips, coalescing into what sounds like a screech. It jumps out of the pokédex and starts zipping around in a frenzy.

Barry fumbles to catch the un-possessed dex as it drops. Byte chatters at him with nervous little electric-snap sounds.

“It’s fine-- Are you okay? I...” Their home gets farther away before their eyes, smaller and even more overtaken by the unfathomable stormy mess. Then... For a moment, everything is glowing. The ship and all of its riders come apart in golden threads and then reassemble, and their world is gone, and the stars are different.

“What the fuck,” Taako says, wide-eyed, bringing them all back into focus. The world is gone, but they still exist. “I’m not the only one who saw all that shit going down, right? With Arceus and the--whatever the hell?”

Through the murmurs of agreement, Lup asks Barry, “Did it finish the scan?”

Byte chitters again, curious and worried.

“I think so...” Barry navigates to the recent scans section and taps the latest one. A message pops up.

ERROR: MISSINGNO

“Missingno,” Taako reads over his shoulder.

“Missing number,” Barry says as he taps ‘OK’ to proceed. The device plays a recorded Rhyhorn cry. “It’s--”

“Is that the Klink one?” Magnus asks from too close behind, making Barry jump.

“The... No, you mean the Non-Pokémon glitch? It used to ping on some inorganic Pokémon, but that was patched nearly a decade ago.”

“Missing number is for when it recognizes the scan as a Pokémon, but it’s undiscovered,” Lup says. “The dex doesn’t have a number for it.”

“So you think that whole mess was... a Pokémon?” Magnus asks, incredulous.

“Apparently,” Barry says. “And... dammit, this data’s nonsense.”

He scrolls through it slowly for all the coworkers crowded over his shoulders to see. All the preliminary stat analyses are at zero, and the type is listed as Normal/Bird/99||9/P...and the rest goes off the page, as if it’s listing even more nonsense types in a space that’s only meant to list 2 at a time.

“Bird was an obsolete name for flying types, but the rest...” Barry shakes his head. “You know what, I’m gonna have to look at the-- the raw scan data. The standard UI isn’t doing us any favors here.”

“Yeah, and we need to check on the others inside,” Lup adds.

Inside the hull, Davenport is still determinedly steering the ship, obsolete star charts strewn across the ground as he tries to find a way back. Merle and Lucretia are off to the sides, trying to calm down a Sawsbuck and a Smeargle, respectively.

“Tom, buddy, calm down,” Merle says, running a hand through its leaves. A few come off in his hands, and he recoils in surprise. “Wait. It’s-- still July, right? Summer?”

“Who kn-knows?” Davenport says. “Aside from being in space, it’s like we’re in a whole n-n-new universe. I’ve turned us s...straight backwards and I can’t even find a single plane from our home system.”

“There’s the beginnings of white streaks in these antlers. As if he’s taking Winter Form prematurely,” Merle says.

“Well, shit.”

[quietlyimplode]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 1

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (17 authors under the cut)

The Irish Mayhem @the-irish-mayhem

White - part of Perfection of Duality Series - the making of Natasha Romanoff. One of my favourite fics in the world. I will love it forever.  -    25/25

Perfection of Duality- part two - Natasha - Natasha in shield - 4/?

Mypedia @sebuttstianstan

anything that bleeds - Natasha - Natasha is a sub. Don’t let that fool you, Natasha’s backstory with bdsm elements. 21/22

Shadesfalcon @shadesfalcon

Like Real People Do - Clint/Nat - ‘Do we have song?’ Iterations of what’s the ties that bind them together.    1/1

Whether you ask it or not - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets poisoned - and has the line ‘“’Night, little dragon. May your fires ever burn hot upon your unsuspecting foes.”    1/1

Sometimes winning means you’re the last one standing - ot6+everyone - don’t play ‘never have I ever’ without some laughs and trauma rearing its head   1/1

I am good - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha home for the first time.   1/1

Careful She Bites - Clint/Nat - don’t confront Natasha about the handcuffs. Just don’t.  2/2

What happens here stays here - Clint/Nat- Natasha can’t remember Budapest.  1/1

Koren M- cybermathwitch

I’d Make Room for you - Clint/Nat/Laura - perspectives of each other are important. 1/1

Course Corrections - Clint/Nat/Laura - taking care of each other 2/2 snippets into conversations/life Course Corrections (Age of Ultron Fix-It Fic)

As if you have a choice - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets pregnant. They know they can’t keep it. 3/3

The weight of us - series of 11 - my fav is ‘Seeing Red’ and ‘Sharp and Sweet’. Clint/Nat shield days

Red Flag Warning - Natasha - red is a warning colour. Clint should know.   1/1

Edgeofthegalaxy @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

buried in your bones, i see it in your closed eyes - Natasha dissociates and its a long way back Clint/Nat 1/1

Origins - Young Natasha in the red room, of learning morality and goodness. 1/1

But even the strong can fall - Natasha goes silent on a mission, Clint knows something is very wrong. Clint/Nat 2/2

Just a Kid - sometimes Natasha doesn’t realise how messed up her childhood was. Sometimes she needs to be told. Nat/team 1/1

Collateral Damage - Natasha comes home from a mission; Tony needs to patch her up. Tony & Nat 1/1

Daughter of Rohan @natrasharomanova

Living Louder - Clint/Nat - break my heart. Origin stories.   21/21

Beside you (sequel to living louder) - Clint/Nat - shield falls. Clint and Nat find each other in the aftermath.

It’s still raining - Clint/Nat - everything happens when it’s raining.  1/1

You are a piece of me, I wish I didn’t need. Clint/Nat/Laura/family. Clint brings Nat to the farm for the first time. Healing ensues.   1/1

Impossibilities- Clint/Nat but with Pepper/Maria/Darcy and Jane - Natasha is pregnant?   1/1

Wake my spirit Cold - Clint/Nat - Christmas throughout the years -    1/1

(We could be) infinite - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. The soul stone split in two. No one dies.    1/1

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. Natasha dies but is alive in a multiverse. Clint dies in the alternate. They meet in the middle.     1/1

Sugarfey @sugarfey

Chrysalis - Natasha - this is how it goes and how she came to be.  Ashes series  1/3

A walk on part in the war. Natasha - Drakovs daughter is ‘saved’.  Ashes.  2/3

World on Fire - Clint (/Natasha) Clint has a history and can play the guitar.  Ashes   3/3 - my favourite part.

First Name Basis- Clint/Nat - getting to know you.    1/1

Right where I used to be - Clint/Nat - it’s Natasha’s birthday, Clint uses this to get to know her better.    1/1

Once was lost - Clint/Nat - slow burn, Natasha offers herself to him once.    1/1

Expresso is not an option - Nat/Maria - ‘you could destroy shield in a heartbeat, couldn’t you?’

Thursdays Child - Nat/fury - fury mentors Natasha-from afar.    1/1

Shelter - Clint/Nat/liho/lucky - Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza -   1/1

Almost home - Natasha - find a mooring and settles -    1/1

Long spaces 3/3 - Natasha/Clint - natasha and Clint fit together - all the broken pieces. .  3/3

Inkvoices - @inkvoices

Smile for the living - POST ENDGAME - Natasha is brought back.     1/1

In deed- Clint/Bucky/Nat. In which dogs and deeds are discussed.    1/1

Driver chooses the music. Clint/Nat - get in the car.

On Names - Clint/Nat- she goes by many names -  1/1

AlwaysLera

Fallout Patterns - what happens when your mind is a nuclear bomb? Nat/Clint - sex is not always sex when trauma is as deep as hers -   14/14

Breathe me with your hands - Clint/Nat - navigating sex -  1/2 One Red Thread Series- Nats pov.

Hold you by the edges - 2/2 One Red Thread - Clint’s pov.

Ghosts that we knew - Clint/Nat - aftermath of the avengers. Natasha navigating the world when Clint safewords out. 15/?? Unfinished.

How the day sounds - Clint/Nat - thanksgiving throughout the years -     14/15 (?fluffy)

You were a kindness - Clint/Nat - a perfect look at the trauma of being brought in. Let herself be nothing but a branch. Let herself be nothing but stardust. Stardust could not be hurt. Stardust could not be used. Stardust could not be held.    1/1

Crashing, understanding, blinding, tumbling - Nat/Tony - plane crashes - tony takes care of Natasha whilst blinded -    1/1

Two plus two is five - Clint/Nat - how do you test a concussion? Two plus two is five in large quantities of two.   1/1

Into the dark (song fic) - team after harrowing mission watch Clint and Natasha dance - 1/1

The ocean carry you home - team- pepper is pregnant, Natasha doesn’t cope well with the news. Yellow blue bus.    1/1

Enigma731 @enigma731

Something just like this - Clint/Nat - Clint is depressed. Natasha doesn’t know how to help.    1/1

Going to the Chapel. Clint/Nat - get married in Budapest and have sex.

September - Tony/Nat bonding - Tony makes a memory machine to cure ptsd, Natasha helps.   1/1

Everything Costs - Clint/Nat- Natasha keeps getting hurt on missions, Clint wants to know why.  1/1

That’s way you showed me (I wasn’t quite so alone) - Clint/Nat - 3 christmas’ -    1/1

Prompts (some lovely short 1 shorts) - team assorted -   13/?

It starts with Time - Natasha - Natasha goes looking for her family -   1/1

The war I can’t win - Natasha/Clint - Clint gets injured. Natasha is his support.  1/1 (it mentions Occupational Therapy this is a winner)

We are not shining stars - Natasha/Laura + Clint - Clint dies (fair warning) it’s all Natasha can do to cope.    1/1

Unpack your heart - Clint/Nat - in the beginning they left post it notes -   1/1

Hearts and Bones and Blood - Natasha/Clint - Clint saves Natasha from mental health services when she first comes to shield. Because sometimes she gets lost in her own head.

What Girls are Made of - Nat/team - 5x Natasha has unconventional means of flying.    1/1

Ghost Towns - Clint/Nat - Natasha has memories implanted in her head, shield medical and Clint try to help.   1/1

The glass parade - Steve /Natasha - he watches her become different people.  1/1

Slipsthrufingers

Cleanliness Is Next To… - Nat/Clint- Or Five Memorable Showers Clint Barton and Natasha Have Had, and One Time There Was a Bath Instead. -  1/1

The more you know - Clint/Nat - this is what they learn first (or Natasha is not what is written in her file) -  1/1

Perspectives - Nat/team - perspective and interpretations; what do you see?

OracleGlass

safe as houses - Clint/Nat - what makes them go to a nonshield safehouse?

The clutch of circumstance - Clint/Nat- he helps her start. 1/1

Ranni

Voluntary Procedure - Clint and Natasha agree to be mind wiped. The others are not happy - Clint/Nat/Team 6/6

Stronghold - Natasha and Clint shut down their various safehouse. Clint/Nat (team) 1/1

Spy Vs Spy (recced by Anon) - Clint & Coulson & Natasha - Natasha Romanov was the most beautiful person in the room and nobody asked her to dance. 2/2

Paperairplanesopenwindows @paperairplanesopenwindows

On the first day of Christmas - Clint/Nat/Laura- Laura wants to celebrate, Clint and Nat aren’t so sure - 1/1

A little to the left - Clint/Nat/Laura - she’s Natasha but a little to the left (POST ENDGAME) -   4/4

Family Togetherness Time - Clint/Nat/Laura - Steve gets concerned about Nat and turns to the people he thinks can help. 3/3

Eauline

In every lifetime I choose you - Nat/Steve - Natasha gets captured to get to Steve. 11/11

MillyVeil

Burn baby, burn. Clint/Nat - Clint saves Natasha from heatstroke. 1/1

Teamwork - Clint/Nat - fuck or die, Clint’s not ok but Natasha is. He doesn’t understand. -   2/2

Other people - Clint/Nat- she’s up for some monkey sex until she’s not.    2/2

altheterrible @altheterrible

Shining white in the sun - Natasha - Clint dies, Natasha tries to cope. She doesn’t do it very well. 7/7

tastes - team - different tastes in points in time - 1/1

strix_alba

places to go, people to be- Natasha - Natasha gets to decide who she really is after the fall of shield 1/1

[mediaevalmusereads]

Bringing Down the Duke. By Evie Dunmore. New York: Berkley, 2019.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, A League of Extraordinary Women #1

Summary:  England, 1879. Annabelle Archer, the brilliant but destitute daughter of a country vicar, has earned herself a place among the first cohort of female students at the renowned University of Oxford. In return for her scholarship, she must support the rising women's suffrage movement. Her charge: recruit men of influence to champion their cause. Her target: Sebastian Devereux, the cold and calculating Duke of Montgomery who steers Britain's politics at the Queen's command. Her challenge: not to give in to the powerful attraction she can't deny for the man who opposes everything she stands for. Sebastian is appalled to find a suffragist squad has infiltrated his ducal home, but the real threat is his impossible feelings for green-eyed beauty Annabelle. He is looking for a wife of equal standing to secure the legacy he has worked so hard to rebuild, not an outspoken commoner who could never be his duchess. But he wouldn't be the greatest strategist of the Kingdom if he couldn't claim this alluring bluestocking without the promise of a ring...or could he? Locked in a battle with rising passion and a will matching her own, Annabelle will learn just what it takes to topple a duke...

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, sexism/misogyny, attempted sexual assault

Overview: I learned about this book while searching around for romances in the vein of The Suffragette Scandal. Overall, I found Bringing Down the Duke fairly fun; it features a badass heroine, a hero who doesn’t give off violent alpha male vibes, and a plot that addresses real issues like class and gender equality. I only give this book 3 stars, however, because I think the plot could have been organized better, and I think the romance gets a little frustrating after about the halfway point. Still, if you’re just starting to read romance and aren’t sure about what level of physical intimacy you’re willing to tolerate, this book might be a good starter.

Writing: Dunmore’s prose is fairly laid-back and easy to understand, so if you’re looking for a light read, this book might fit the bill for you.

I do think, however, that Dunmore could have crafted her narrative and used her prose to reinforce the theme of independence vs safety. While this theme comes up a number of times, I always felt it was an afterthought because so many things were happening in the book, and I would have liked to see Dunmore pull back and really make the whole narrative (and use language, metaphor, etc) about this conflict.

Plot: The non-romance plot of this book follows Annabelle - a bluestocking who is given a full scholarship to Oxford on the condition that she support the suffragette movement. She is allowed to go on the condition that she send her cousin 2 pounds per month to pay for a housekeeper (which he will be lacking if Annabelle goes away), and as she tries to balance school, work, and activism, she is tasked with “infiltrating” the Duke of Montgomery’s home in hopes of winning him to the suffragette cause. Of course, shenanigans ensue from there.

What I really enjoyed about this plot was the ambition. I liked reading about the class and gender barriers that Annabelle had to navigate, and I liked that her political ambitions were at odds with the Duke’s personal ones. However, such a wide range of conflicts meant that not all plot threads were explored to the degree I would have liked. It seemed like characters were pulled in a lot of different directions, and that these non-romance plots took a backseat when it was least appropriate. The Duke’s New Year’s Eve party, for example, is supposed to be this big political move for the Duke to show his commitment to the Queen and the Tories, but we never see him put things in place or pull some social strings to line everything up, and we never see the party used as a crisis point in the political plot. Instead, it passes in the space of only a few pages and is mainly used as an opportunity for Annabelle and the Duke to become intimate. I would have instead liked to see it be this moment where the plot as a whole takes a turn: maybe everything is going well until the Duke realizes his feelings for Annabelle as well as the actions of his younger brother throw the whole party (and his political ambitions) into jeopardy. In short, I felt like events could have been moved around to make them more narratively impactful, rather than everything happening at a somewhat leisurely and meandering pace.

On a related note, I didn’t feel like the plot as a whole had many elements of suspense, nor did they really build on each other. As a result, the plot seemed to lack shape; there wasn’t really a rising action, and I was never sure what characters were going to do next (which was frustrating, rather than exciting). I think this could have been improved if we had seen Annabelle take a more active role in trying to manipulate the Duke. As the book stands, Annabelle seems to simply inhabit the Duke’s house and “wins” him over by being defiant. I think I would have liked to see her try more purposeful techniques, like going through his things to try to get information on him, having more political or philosophical conversations, etc. Something to drive the suffragette narrative forward and perhaps set up a moment when Annabelle has to reveal that she’s been trying to spy on him or something.

Characters: Annabelle, our heroine, is a fun character to follow. She’s smart, hardworking, and generous with regards to her friends. I liked that she wasn’t presented as this superwoman who could do everything, but was doing her best to balance all the demands made on her. While I think all of Annabelle’s actions were believable and she was a fairly complex character, I also think Dunmore was trying to do too much with her. Not only is Annabelle trying to balance her studies and her activism while struggling with poverty, but she also has a secret from her past which must be dealt with. Personally, I found it all a little much. I think Annabelle’s past and her financial obligations to her cousin could have been cut, placing more emphasis on the pressures of staying in school or becoming destitute. The conflict for her, then, would be something like the risks that come with being an independent woman, and how her entanglement with the Duke raises new risks.

Sebastian, our hero, in interesting in that he is stoic and single-minded without being a huge jerk. He’s completely obsessed with winning back his family’s estate, and he lets that obsession compromise his political and moral beliefs (though not to the point where he’s openly hostile towards women or anything like that - more like he’s willing to support the Tory party because he has been promised the return of his estate if they win the election). I liked that much of his personal growth had to do with deciding what it was he valued more: his family’s reputation or his personal happiness and being on the right side of history.

Supporting characters were fun and enriched the narrative. Annabelle’s suffragette friends were a lovely support system, and I adored the moments when they rallied to help Annabelle in moments of trouble. Sebastian’s brother, Peregrine, was a nice foil to the Duke and I liked that he was irresponsible and impulsive without being a total rake. Jenkins, Annabelle’s professor, was also an interesting character to have in the mix, especially when he became more involved in creating points of tension towards the end, and I liked that he was bookish and eccentric without being cold and self-important.

Romance: Annabelle and Sebastian’s romance is... ok. There were things about it I liked, and things I found frustrating. I really liked their banter and that they were intellectual matches for each other. I also liked that the barrier to them being together was rooted in class and the conflict between personal desire and family obligation. I also appreciated that the romance seemed to build naturally; while physical attraction was present, it wasn’t like Sebastian saw her and popped a boner and that’s what set everything off. Their relationship developed slower and I found it much more believable than some other romances.

What I didn’t like, however, was that after about the book’s halfway point, the relationship seemed to plateau and it became a matter of Annabelle and Sebastian splitting up, chancing upon each other in public, feelings erupt, then they do something intimate and split up again. I would have much rather have had something like a clean break at the 3/4 mark in the book: the two realize they can’t be together in the way they want, so Annabelle leaves and focuses on her activism/studies. During that time, things happen that challenge Sebastian’s commitment to his family legacy, but he doesn’t go seek Annabelle out. Maybe Annabelle instead gets an offer that would make her more financially stable (or more secure in her place at Oxford), so then she can go back to Sebastian, etc etc (I’m thinking about how the class barrier is handled in Jane Eyre here, if you can’t tell). It would have gotten rid of the annoying miscommunication incident towards the end, and instead would have forced some more meaningful development and not a “will they or won’t they” string of events.

TL;DR: Bringing Down the Duke is a bit of a narrative mess, but nevertheless fun and entertaining. With likeable characters, a believable romance, and meaningful themes, I would recommend this book for those just starting out in romance or to those who want romances written with contemporary readers (and sensibilities) in mind.

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

oh, but you’re good to me

the wench and the witcher

"oh, but you’re good to me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Black!OFC - Zahra Auberel. Platonic!Jaskier x Zahra.

Summary:  Midaëte brings the height of summer, and a reconciliation. 

Warnings: Rated Mature due to brief mention of sex. Please don’t interact if you are under the age of 18.

A/N: Well, what started as a simple reader insert character grew into a fully-formed OC through the course of this series. And now we have reached the end! Well, mostly. I have some random outtakes and drabbles that I’m sure will crop up, but my (eventual) multi-chapter will feature Geralt and Zahra as they navigate some... interesting magical developments. 

But, for now, I call this the end of The Wench and The Witcher. Thank you guys so much for your kind words, reblogs, likes - this is honestly the most I’ve written in years and knowing that y’all have enjoyed it warms the cockles of my heart. Title and lyrics under the cut from Hozier’s “Would That I” which I think might be my favorite Hozier song full-stop, hands down. 

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @owillofthewisps​ - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​ - @inber​

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same Watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Layin' waste to my lovin' long ago

“Contracts from the butcher and the miller,” Lucja rattles off. “And Jaskier returned your message – says he’s very much looking forward to performing for the solstice festival.”

 She gives a hum as she thumbs through the stack of papers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, as well,” she teases.

 Lucja’s pretty round face goes pink, making her employer grin. The older woman pauses when she finds an unfamiliar piece of folded parchment among the stack of invoices. Slim brown fingers unfold the sharply folded letter and suddenly her heart is in her throat. “Lucja… where did this come from?”

 “Oh… it, ah, came with Jaskier’s reply. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

 Though half-tempted to let Lucja burn the letter, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Lu’ – that will be all.”

 Her young barmaid flashes a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind her. The neatly looped scrawl of the letter makes something around her heart ache. She’d always been surprised by how tidy the Witcher’s handwriting was:

 I don’t

 This isn’t what

 I’m not – fucking shit fuck 

 The first time I saw you, it was like walking into the light of the sun after half a lifetime in the cold. And it was so fucking cold that night.

 You were like summer.

 It’s cold again now, without you. I don’t know what I’m doing

 Two weeks later:

I wanted want wanted to bring you to see Kaer Mohren. I know you said you like the ocean more than the mountains, but I think this place could change your mind. You would get on with Eskel like a house on fire. He’s more of a southerner, like you.

 I told him about the time you tried to teach me to cook and he nearly pissed himself laughing.

 Lambert’s a shit. Vesemir already likes you.

 You’d like it here. The kitchen is nearly as big as the whole front room of the tavern. Library’s bigger.

 Garden’s a fucking nightmare, though.

 We could go to the ocean, too. Anywhere you want.

 The missives don’t come with any real regularity. A few at a time, a week-long gap, but they never stop. She thinks about writing back, at first, but deciphering where the Witcher is would likely be impossible and… gods, she’s still so damned angry. The White Wolf receives no reply.

Regardless, the letters keep coming.

 The thing is, I don’t know what else there is besides The Path - this life of slaying monsters and getting paid in coin. I was told that was all I needed and I believed it for a very long time. There was nothing to challenge that, not until I met you.

 You were are so fucking beautiful. And warm, and bright, and vulgar, and kind, and a pain in my ass and I should have told you how much you meant to me, but I couldn’t parse it out until just now, and I am an idiot. And a coward. I thought that telling myself you were an amusement would be enough, that I would be content with warming your bed, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep lying about how much I need you.

 I need you, Zee. It feels like I’m missing my fucking sword arm.

 The words on the page blur together. She brushes them with her fingertips, almost smiling even as the tears catch in her lashes:

 I miss the way you laugh at Jaskier’s dirty songs.

 I miss the way you used my legs to keep your feet warm at night.

 I miss that fucking rabbit stew.

 I miss the way you’d look at me when I walked in the door.

 I miss the sounds you make when I’m inside of you. The way you taste.

 I miss your eyes. And your smile.

 Your voice. Your terrible fucking singing.

 You are my home. You’re my harbor and my safe haven.

 I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

   ---

Midaëte approaches. With it, a week’s worth of festivities, and food and drink, leading up to the day of the solstice. It means early mornings in the kitchen and late nights in the tavern. The evenings are balmy, windows and doors thrown open to allow the scent of summer air and night-blooming flowers to drift through.

 For a time, she is so busy that she forgets to be heartsore. Geralt’s letters – page after yellowing page – sit tied with a gold ribbon in her desk drawer. Confessions and apologies, promises and rambling stories that she keeps picking up to read again and again. It’s a veritable book, more than he’d ever seen fit to say in person and she’s not sure whether to be infuriated or hopeful, but there’s barely time. Thank the gods.

  Business booms, between trades-folk coming in for the market day, then musicians, then families. She drinks a little, dances when there is time; she lets Lucja weave tiny yellow purple flowers into her hair for Midaëte Eve and dresses in white and yellow to enjoy the evening. Or try to, at least. The main room is full almost to bursting, patrons laughing, carousing, and eventually spilling out into the courtyard to dance in the falling dusk.

 Zahra watches from the doorway. A few try to tempt her into the circle for a reel and they receive a grateful smile with her refusal. Jaskier, however, will not be deterred.

 “You, dear lady,” he croons. “Look too lovely to be hiding in the shadows.”

 “Jas…”

 “One dance. Just one – you might even have fun by mistake.”

 She rolls her eyes, but the bard just grins and lifts her hand for a kiss. He leads her, hand-in-hand out to the courtyard; Jaskier gives a nod to his fellow players and they begin with a sharp beat that eases into a lovely, familiar melody.

 “You know this one, ducky?” Jaskier queries with a smile. She nods and he takes the lead.

 It’s a simple step, to start with. A sweet back and forth to match the sweet, flowing verse of the song. The touch of Jaskier’s hand on her low back offers guidance, keeps her moving in gentle circles around him until the real movement begins. Swinging, agile steps carry Zahra and her partner around in wide loops. The mingle with other dancers, threading hands to spin back together and then apart.

 Jaskier grips her waist across the front, and she follows suit. The dizzying spin turns the world into a wash of summer colors for a moment and she can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be light again.

 The bard turns her under his arm and into the hands of the next man. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where she considers bowing out and going back to her corner, but the tabor still thrums in her blood and it’s such a beautiful night.

 Still smiling, she curtsies, and is lead back through the steps again. Her partner leads easily, light of foot and loose of tongue – from her ale, more like than not – but he’s kind, and sweet, and so funny that she’s nearly in tears when she’s suddenly spun away to her next partner. She catches the fabric of her skirts to add a flourish to the spin; the soft yellow cotton dances with her.

 When spins to a stop, she sees black, at first. Matte black buttons, black tunic shirt – worn, but cleaner than it usually is. The silver wolf’s head medallion sparks in the torchlight.

 Zahra looks up into the face of Geralt of Rivia and the music goes dull behind the roar of blood in her ears. It feels a bit like standing on a ledge cliff and looking down to gauge the fall. She feels dizzy, and terrified, and wonderfully breathless. Heart in her mouth, she spies Jaskier out of the corner of her eye.

 The bard grins. Bastard.

 “Zahra…”

 The Witcher’s voice rumbles through her like soft summer thunder. Strong fingers grip hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. His honey-gold eyes are more earnest and honest than she’s ever seen them – he asks the question without moving his lips. Zahra nods.

 Geralt leads her in the dance and everything falls away.

  She hears the music, feels it sing through her, but her focus remains on the white-haired mutant at her side. His hand spans her back, warm through her dress and stays; the lightest pressure of his fingertips, or palm, guides her to turn, or step, or pivot in time with him. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, how well he moves – she’s seen him fight, and his grace with a sword, and how would dancing be any different?  He doesn’t look away from her once and the heat of his gaze flushes over her. The Witcher very nearly smiles.

 Geralt turns her under his arm, guides her through the last few measures of the song. He steps away, takes his warmth with him, and bows. Zahra curtsies in return.

 The crowd, the rest of the world, rushes back over them. The townsfolk whistle, and stomp, for a moment determined to swarm in and start up another country dance, and Geralt grips her hand tight for a moment. She sees him hesitate before he asks, simply, “Can we talk?”

 Most of the party has spilled into the streets, leaving the tavern itself practically empty. Lucja still keeps to her spot behind the bar, green eyes going wide when she spies Zahra and her guest in tow. The girl’s pretty face splits into a knowing smile that makes Zahra’s face go hot.

 It’s mostly dark in her study. The small hearth fire has gone to smoldering embers, and it gives her the opportunity to light a few candles and collect her utterly scattered thoughts. She flicks out the last taper and finally looks up at Geralt. He stands just inside the closed door, just as he used to. It’s familiar – it feels like it’s been years, or decades, or maybe just a few hours. His honey-colored gaze still holds a heat that sings over her skin. She drops her eyes to the desk.

 The last letter sits there, creased and folded from how many times she’s read it. Zahra picks at the parchment. Keeping her focus on Geralt’s neat lettering seems easier than looking at the Witcher himself. “Did Jaskier put you up to this?” she teases half-heartedly.

 Geralt exhales on a chuckle. “Something like. Threatened to garrote me with a lute string.”

 She smiles, in spite of herself. When she lifts her head and meets his eyes, it takes a moment to catch her breath. For a few heartbeats, she simply stares. Gods, he is still so beautiful. She swallows hard and feels her throat go dry.

 “Did you mean what you wrote?” she asks.

 “You know I did, Zee.”

Gold eyes go guarded again. He doesn’t go totally cold, but she can see the way he builds up his walls to prepare for the worst. He steps forward. Second-guesses – stops.

 “What I do – what I am – I can’t change it,” he rumbles. “I’m still a Witcher, Zahra. A mutant. I can’t… I can’t give you normal, sweetheart – ”

 “Gods, Geralt - fuck normal.”

 ---

 “Fuck normal.”

 She says it with such passionate certainty that it startles a laugh out of him. The soft yellow of her skirt floats like woven sunlight around her legs. Like the sun, it almost hurts to look at her, but fuck all, that’s all he wants to do. He watches her face, watches her chew her lip; feels his slow pulse try to speed up when she steps closer. His fingers itch to curl around her waist.

 “I never asked for normal, Geralt,” she whispers. The way her voice cracks pulls tight around his heart. “I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s it. Can… can you give me that, or no?”

 The Witcher’s footfalls carry him to her. He studies her face; re-acquaints himself with the curve of her cheek and the dimple that presses there. She all but melts into his touch when his thumb brushes her cheek. He pulls her into the circle of his arms. She’s still soft, and warm; he closes his eyes, feels his muscles go lax with relief when she holds fast, locking her arms around his back. Geralt presses his face against the smooth curve of her shoulder.

 It feels like stepping into the light of the sun after ages in cold and rain. “I love you, Zahra,” he breathes.

 Her soft, tearful laugh settles warm into his heart. “I love you, Geralt.”

 He gives a pleased murmur, lets the tip of his nose trail lazy circles over her shoulder. When he inhales, the warm, soft smell of her skin eases back into his lungs. From shoulder to neck, the Witcher draws in slow breaths and ghosts his lips over the exposed skin he finds until Zahra shivers. “What are you doing, Witcher?” she whispers, breathless.

 “Hmm… taking your scent back,” he mumbles. “I missed this smell.”

 His lips ease along the shell of her ear. She still gasps when he nips at the crux of her jaw. “I missed you, love,” he growls.

 Geralt takes his time. He savors the smell and the taste of her skin, humming lowly when Zahra’s hands grip at his back. The sweetness of her begins to bloom with heat, with the richness of desire – want – and when he sets his teeth gently against her pulse point, she moans delicately.  Insistent fingers tangle in his hair; she whispers his name and pulls him to her lips. She kisses him like a woman starved and it feels like his heart might thunder its way free of his chest. He lifts her onto the edge of the desk and comes to stand between her parted thighs, gathering the soft yellow cotton of her skirts up. Her fingers yank at the buttons on his trousers.

  It’s a quick, desperate of coupling. Mingled breath and bitten off sighs – greedy kisses with fingers gripped in the front of his shirt. She flutters hotly around his cock with a whimper and a curse. He groans against her mouth when he comes. Zahra drinks down the noise with a grin on her lips.

 Geralt stays put for more than a year. It’s good.

 The Path still calls, and he still follows, but she finds she’s able to let go of the fear. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ in terms of Geralt’s return. And if he knows it’s going to be a long journey, or if the mood simply strikes him, he writes -

 I miss you.

 I love you.

 Sometimes no more than a line, sometimes full paragraphs – even pages –  but he always tells her when he plans to return. When he’ll be home.

 It’s nearly spring next time he rides back in, market day in full swing as he passes through the township gate with Roach at his side. Vendors call their wares, families and merchants wander the stalls as he peers out from the shadow of his cloak. He finds the trail of Zahra’s scent past the cloying smell of cut flowers and rounds to corner to find her chatting with the butcher’s daughter.

 The younger woman catches his gaze. Geralt watches the girl grin and give his woman – his woman – a nudge, nodding in his direction. Zahra is already smiling when she turns, and the Witcher has the pleasure of watching her face flash from surprise to joy in the space of a heartbeat. She moves to him, a walk that becomes a jog, and then a final sprint that launches her into his arms. He curls his free arm tight around her waist. Immediately, he has his face pressed to her hair. Zahra’s laughter rings softly in his ears when she draws back, just enough to look up into his face.

 At her throat, the polished wolf’s tooth is bright against her brown skin. “Welcome home, my love,” she murmurs.

 The greeting settles warm over him like the sunlight. Geralt pulls her close again, kissing her in full view of half the town. She shivers sweetly in his arms and pulls her fingers through his hair. He hears a wolf-whistle, and a smattering of applause that makes Zahra giggle against his mouth.

 “People are staring,” she teases softly.

 He smirks. “Let them,” he tells her before kissing her once more. She tastes of clover honey.

 She smells of sunshine.

 She feels like home.

[notbang]

the pursuit of happiness

or, an examination of happiness and the chase as recurring motifs in the character development of Rebecca Bunch and Nathaniel Plimpton

rethaniel appreciation week day 2 → pursuit

I could write a small novel cataloguing the endless parallels between these two—I have, in fact, thought about attempting it many times—but honestly the list is so long and varied and sprouts off in so many different directions that I’ve yet to think of a logical way to go about it. Which is why for the time being, I’m choosing to focus instead—in some degree of detail—on this particular mirrored thread between them.

As our protagonist, Rebecca functions as a major catalyst for change in West Covina, and just as surely as she stumbles along in her journey we see the (for the most part) positive effects of her friendship on those around her. With perhaps the sole exception of White Josh, all of the characters end the show as happier and healthier iterations of themselves, with many of the major aspects of their growth traceable to their involvement with Rebecca in some way. Nathaniel is no exception to this rule; arguably, his development, more so than any other character’s, is directly tied to Rebecca’s influence on his life. The main difference here lies in the fact that he moves to town good a season and half after her—putting him that much further behind in his inevitable development.

One of the major, ongoing setbacks Rebecca faces over the course of the show is her tendency to conflate happiness, or personal fulfilment, with romantic love, and more specifically, for the first half of the series at least, conflating it with a single person. Nathaniel, by comparison, at the time of our introduction to him, has little interest in the concept at all, something Rebecca is quick to sympathise with in 2x09—‘You know Nathaniel, I used to be a lot like you. Ruthless. But then one day I was crying a lot, and I decided to flip things around. Decided to put happiness before success. And when I did that, the world rewarded me with true happiness.’ Nathaniel doesn’t verbally dismiss the sentiment, but the wealth of facial expressions he supplies in response suggest what he thinks of that: happiness is frivolous, and he doesn’t have space for it in his busy schedule.

Nathaniel, probably: Sounds fake but okay.

In the season two theme Rebecca declares that as a girl in love, she can’t be held responsible for her actions, and the sweeping duet Nothing Is Ever Anyone’s Fault follows a similar thread of eschewing culpability. While this certainly works to help dismiss a season’s worth of questionable behaviour from the two of them—including, but not limited to, infidelity and conspiracy to murder—I’m not convinced the touted concept behind the song—that Nathaniel has learned the wrong lesson from being in love with her, as explained in post-finale interviews at the time—flies in the face of our understanding of Nathaniel’s character thus far. As a rich, straight, white, cis male whose privilege the show has only made clumsy attempts at dismantling, a disregard of consequence seems a lot less like something he needed to be taught by anybody and a little more like something that was probably ingrained in him at birth.

If we want to talk about misguided takeaways within their relationship, though, their relationship to happiness is the perfect place to start. Nathaniel begins the show with no concept of the pursuit of happiness, so it makes sense that when he does adopt an interest in it, he takes a page right out of the book of the person that introduced him and pins it all in the one place. Unlike Rebecca, though, Nathaniel’s preoccupation seems to be less wilful delusion and more of a case of ignorance being bliss—being with her feels good, so why change anything or interrogate the situation any further? For all his earlier talk, he is quick to give up the thrill of the chase under the hedonistic guise of contentment. Unfortunately, what he lacks is the emotional intelligence to navigate the implications of Rebecca’s disorder, highlighted by his belief that the mere fact that he and Josh are two vastly different people is reason enough for him to be able to dismiss her obsessive behaviour as ‘cute’ and ‘flattering’. Rebecca’s recent breakdown and consequential suicide attempt can’t exist as warning signs in their (what he perceives as superior) relationship because he isn’t planning on leaving Rebecca at the altar; he isn’t privy to the realisation that it ‘wasn’t about Josh, and maybe it never was’.

Nathaniel: I don’t want to get in the way of your therapy thing, but isn’t the point of all this to be happy? We’re happy. That’s what matters.

It’s a shame because despite there being so much more going on with Rebecca than Nathaniel is capable of comprehending at this point in time, he actually, perhaps entirely by accident, manages to get a few things right—he checks in with her about her therapy when her appearing on his doorstep contradicts the information she’d given him earlier (even if he is, at this point, all too easy to convince), counters her suggestion that they play hooky at Raging Waters with the compromise of a more sensibly scheduled dinner they’ll both enjoy, and, when they do come in to conflict over her obsessive behaviours, takes some time for himself before having a serious conversation with her. Though it’s certainly naive of him to think it’s a problem as easily solved as getting Rebecca to promise she’ll never do anything like this again, it suggests the capacity exists (given, with great guidance) for him to approach Rebecca’s mental illness within their relationship in a thoughtful way.

(This of course completely ignores the inherent issues in their boss/employee relationship, which come to a questionable forefront when Rebecca makes the decision to return to work after having broken things off, but we’re starting to get a little off-track from the intended scope of this discussion.)

The idea of romantic love as a chase—if not already sold to us by Rebecca literally moving across the country in pursuit of Josh—is hammered home most effectively in episode 2x11, but Nathaniel actually brings it up in the episode prior; before Rebecca and Josh leave for New York, at the same time as setting up the whole ‘man of my dreams’ idea that also carries on into the next episode, a sweaty Nathaniel beseeches Rebecca to imitate a land-based predator so he can amp up his workout under the threat of chase. Within this alignment, Josh, who ends up proposing to Rebecca at the end of 2x10, becomes even more clearly representative of an end goal—love, marriage, and, as an expected by-product, ultimate happiness. Nathaniel, by contrast for the time being, is all about the chase that comes before. After his speech at the beginning of 2x11 boasting of his dogged approach when securing clients, his passionate buzz words begin to permeate Rebecca’s subconscious, with ‘pursuit’ in particular going so far as to in an echo in a similar way that ‘happy’ does in the pilot. Such is the effect of his words on her that she parrots them back to Josh when she tells him she’s moved up their wedding—‘Finally, it’s coming to an end. The pursuit is over and I just want to celebrate that’. The title of the episode title may pose the question Josh is the man of my dreams, right? but in the most literal sense, the star of her dreams becomes Nathaniel, along with his personal brand of terminology.

Where Nathaniel thinks life is all about playing the hunter, Rebecca insists she doesn’t care for the chase, which makes sense—she doesn’t want to be chasing Josh, and furthermore, admitting that she’s chasing him would only be contradictory to her belief that they belong together. She wants her happy ending. She wants to arrive at her final destination—her destiny—because thus far all her journeys (which have in actuality been more of a kind of stagnation) have been left her unfulfilled. However obsessing over an idealised future only postpones her happiness with her inability to focus on the present. Ironically, the point at which she makes an active choice to begin shifting that focus—in 3x07, when Dr Shin encourages her to live in the messy in-between—is right around the time Nathaniel starts buying into her idealisation himself.

In a similar way to Rebecca, regardless of his purported love of the pursuit, Nathaniel’s infatuation is seemingly tied to the concept of a destination—several times quite literally. In 3x04 he’s ready to whisk her away to Rome to evade any obstacles to their being together, and in 4x01 proposes a similar escape to Hawaii, causing him to lash out when Rebecca turns him down—‘I want us to just be happy and be together. That’s what I want. You just said you love me, right? So can you just do that for me? Can you just stop overthinking everything? …seems like every time we’re happy, you try to ruin it.’ He sees their shared happiness as a nirvana state he’s caught a glimpse of that Rebecca is now determined to deny him access to, to the point that he seeks to make their version of a love bubble a physical one, where no outside interference (or, more accurately, internal reflection from Rebecca) can keep them apart. Still degrees behind Rebecca in the parallel arcs of their development, he’s stuck in the mindset that them being happy and in love is the only thing that matters. His behaviour is far from flattering, but with a quick review of his history of being on the continual receiving end of her rejection, it’s not entirely difficult to see where he’s coming from.

(As an aside, Rebecca’s relationship with the destination versus the journey as it pertains to the mural on her wall is something I’ve already discussed in a previous meta.)

When she breaks up with him at the beginning of 3x09, Rebecca responds to Nathaniel’s protest of ‘but we’re happy!’ with the qualifier that she’s ‘happy, but it isn’t real’, which probably isn’t the most pleasant thing to be told, even before you factor in Nathaniel’s implied inexperience with serious relationships. While her behaviour prior to this definitely calls for some self reflection, it’s an interesting backflip from extreme infatuation to sudden dismissal, and while it does align with the black and white thinking associated with BPD, it’s easy to see why Nathaniel feels blindsided and, consequently, spurned. She begged him not to break up with her not only to then turn around do exactly that, but to also (presumably unintentionally) throw in the humiliating implication he cared more than she did.

Dr Akopian: Maybe now you can see that your father’s behaviour in the past has set a pattern for you, seeking the love of men who don’t fully love you back. Who you have to pursue. Men who are taken or emotionally unavailable. Like your father. Like Josh. Like Greg. Like other men, I’m sure.

Nathaniel is an outlier amongst the three main love interests in that, for all his grandstanding about humans being hunters by nature, he’s the one constantly falling over himself to win Rebecca’s affection rather than the other way around; it’s ironic that the love interest that asserts himself as being all about the chase is the one that ends up later having to assign himself the title of ‘king of declarations’ based on his ongoing habit of blurting out to Rebecca how he feels, never achieving the level of emotional standoffishness he hopes to exude. Nathaniel’s unavailability—and subsequent cementing as one of the types of men Dr Akopian calls Rebecca out on being predisposed to pursuing—comes only when he enters into a relationship with Mona, and Rebecca, who supposedly ‘never cared for the chase’, with interest reignited finds a skewed sense of security afforded by the romantic roadblock, something Nathaniel seems to understand on some unspoken level, as hinted at by his eagerness to maintain the fragile status quo of their morally questionable arrangement.

As a result of this subversion of power dynamics within Rebecca and Nathaniel’s relationship, in amongst the many other parallels between them that only serve to support this, it starts to become apparent that, narratively speaking, Nathaniel is to Rebecca as Rebecca is to Josh, something that is visually co-signed by the show during 4x03, when we see the same golden glow of romantic epiphany crest behind Rebecca in the church during her speech at Heather and Hector’s wedding that suffuses across Josh when Rebecca encounters him in the streets of New York.

Nathaniel’s takeaway from Rebecca’s speech is that because he loves her, he should do everything within his power to get her back, which of course leads to his (frankly embarrassing) attempts to manipulate her and win her over in 4x04. (Fittingly enough to this discussion, the opening line of the Slumbered quote he plagiarises is ‘you are the only thing that makes me happy’. The irony of his failed use of her teenage diary to win her over is that I honestly do believe the speech is an accurate summation of how he sees Rebecca, and had he only chosen to put it in his own words, that final scene between them might have played out a little differently.) The part he probably should have focused on, though, is the part Rebecca is currently pouring all her professional energy into (and not so coincidentally, it’s right there in the episode title)—love (and therefore happiness) being about finding your own path.

Rebecca: I don’t believe in destiny anymore. I just believe in taking responsibility for your own happiness.

This is not the first time Nathaniel makes the decision to actively pursue Rebecca while her attention lies firmly fixed elsewhere. In 3x03 and 3x04, he is forced to grapple with his feelings alone when a distracted Rebecca eventually goes where he cannot follow, putting an abrupt end to any potential for chase when she flees back to New York in 3x05. Consequently, Nathaniel embarks on a mini-arc of struggling to accept the idea that Rebecca may never come back—initially incomprehensible to him, owing to the fact that she bears importance to him, personally—to conceding that his (thus far relatively unexamined) need for her to be in his life is secondary to her own wellbeing, something that acts as a precursor to a major thread in Nathaniel’s (often one step forward, two clumsily-written steps back) character development in the back end of the series.

Nathaniel: I just hope wherever she is, she’s happy.

In 4x11, Nathaniel’s dream world amalgamation of Maya and Rebecca begs him to let her be happy, and as the former fades into the latter we get another callback to the pilot—an echo of 'happy, happy, happy…’ reminiscent of the empty shell of New York Rebecca latching onto Josh’s description of laid-back West Covina. Unlike its instance in the 1x01, however, this is a wake up call of an entirely different kind—it is not the blossoming of a brand new delusion but the sobering dissolution of one. And unlike the speech a radiant Rebecca gave at Heather’s wedding about finding the one you love and holding on tight, this particular iteration is here to impart the contradictory wisdom ‘if you really love me, you have to let me go’.

Nathaniel: I want you to be happy, I do.

This moment is arguably the true beginning of Nathaniel’s lesson that his happiness isn’t necessarily (or in this case, due to the current circumstances, can no longer be) inextricably linked to Rebecca—she has the opportunity to find happiness independently of him and that in itself is something that should make him happy, as someone that loves and cares for her. His assertion to dream Rebecca that he wants her to be happy manifests in his concession to Rebecca in the real world—‘I’m glad you’re happy. I really am. And it makes me happy too’—an exchange that echoes two similar moments between them back in season three, during which Rebecca expresses the same sentiment regarding his relationship with Mona, first following the cool down from their 3x10 conflict, and again in the aftermath of their ended affair in 3x13: 

Rebecca: I’m happy that you found someone else. Mona seems lovely.

Rebecca: I’m happy for you… I want you to be happy.

The more interesting callback here though, of course, is to Rebecca’s conversation with Greg at the duck pond way back in 2x02. After finally tracking down an AWOL Greg with the intention of breaking the news of her involvement with Josh, Greg makes peace with the situation by way of reassuring them both that everything worked out fine as long as Rebecca is happy. ‘You and Josh—you should be happy together. You’re happy, right? And he treats you well?’ Rebecca responds to this in the affirmative, though her expression—and the context of the episode—belies her answer. In contrast, her exchange with Nathaniel goes a little differently:

Nathaniel: Because you’re happy, right? You’re happy with Greg. Rebecca: I mean, I don’t know. I’m not there yet. But I could possibly be, yeah.

The evolution of Rebecca’s response is of course evidence of her development as a character and her own understanding of her relationship to happiness, but what I find most noteworthy is not that she lies in 2x02, but that in 4x11 she chooses to tell an unusual truth. She could just have easily have said yes the second time around and it would have functioned as a clear enough juxtaposition of what she considers close enough to happiness; after all, at the time of 4x11 she and Greg believe they are approaching their relationship in a mature and thoughtful fashion, they are warm and affectionate towards one another and, unlike in 2x02, she is not having to compete for her partner’s attention. She would, by all accounts, be completely justified in giving what could be considered the normal response to being posed such a question—that yes, she is happy with Greg. So even though it’s encouraging to hear Rebecca verbalising her newfound knowledge that happiness is so much more than such a simple dichotomy of yes and no, it feels significant that Nathaniel, as a person currently knee-deep in untangling his own complicated relationship with happiness, is the one that gets to be privy to this particular brand of truth.

And while it can be argued that all the strides Nathaniel makes in 4x11 are undone over the course of the following episodes, setting aside the very real fact that human emotions are fickle, and we can’t always stick as completely to our guns as we’d like, his blessing here still comes with a telling caveat: ‘I’ve got to let you go… because you’re happy’. And who shows up on Nathaniel’s doorstep during 4x12 to poke holes in that perceived state of happiness between her and Greg? None other than Rebecca herself.

Rebecca: You just want me to be happy, which is what I want too, and god, Greg… Greg doesn’t know what happiness is.

Such is the shared significance of this concept of happiness between them that the second Rebecca alludes to their conversation in the foyer, Nathaniel’s previously good-natured, albeit slightly confused, response to her drunken presence in his apartment quickly and very clearly dissolves into alarm bells and he eventually sends her on her way. Though he could easily have wielded Rebecca’s visit as a weapon to create dissonance between her and Greg in 4x13, he merely probes for clues by way of a convoluted metaphor, resigning himself to the fact that the issue has been resolved, while Greg, in actuality, is at this point none the wiser. It’s only once Greg himself tells Nathaniel that it is over between him and Rebecca that Nathaniel returns to entertaining his feelings for her.

Though we the viewers are all too aware (and at this point, probably screaming at the TV!) that Rebecca’s happiness is not, contrary to recurring belief, a vacant role that she needs someone to fill; unlike us, the characters have not had the good fortune of being able to watch the show Crazy Ex Girlfriend on the CW network. Nathaniel is still a fledgling in terms of self enlightenment, and it makes total sense for him to be nudged towards into pursuing her again once the clearest obstacle to her affections—her relationship with Greg—is no longer an issue.

When she breaks the news of her decision to Nathaniel in the finale, Rebecca is quick to assure Nathaniel that ‘the times that [they’ve] spent together have been some of the best of [her] life’, which is an interestingly bold statement all on its own, but it feels somewhat satisfyingly like finally giving Nathaniel a real-life answer to the ‘we’ve had such happy moments, you and I, haven’t we?’ that he throws at his Maya-shaped projection of Rebecca in 4x11; affirmation that contrary to what she says in 3x08, something in there between them was real.

‘You only get one life,’ he tells her in return. ‘And you’ve got to live that the way you want.’

Neither of them uses the word ‘happy’ in this exchange, but as we fast forward in time, we get:

Nathaniel: Happy to be here.

Rebecca: For the first time in my life, I am truly happy.

Nathaniel (who in an amusing reflection in 2x09, reveals that he, in a roundabout way, moved to West Covina because of Rebecca—‘it’s kind of your fault that I’m here’) has finally made the actual change that Rebecca taunted him with on their first meeting. And unlike Rebecca, he’s had a chance to interrogate what happiness for himself, removed from another person, might look like before he does so. Rather than starting with a life-altering change, he gets to make incremental changes along the way—which very much are tied to his entanglement to Rebecca—in order to make a more meaningful and deliberate life change for himself later on.

“When you find someone that melts the iceberg that is your heart…” - 3x03

“Provoking me, and zinging me, and challenging my world view. And warming my heart.” - 3x04

“You make me feel like I can be a different kind of person.” - 3x08

“You’ve awakened my heart and unlocked my soul.” - 4x04

“You’ve changed my whole life. Who I am, who I can be.” - 4x11

Rebecca describes her moving to West Covina in Nathaniel’s first episode as ‘[deciding] to flip things around. [Deciding] to put happiness before success. And when I did that, the world rewarded me with true happiness.’ In the finale, she tells the audience how he, by comparison, ‘upended [his] life’—‘You changed everything. But unlike me, you did it for the right reasons. And I am in awe of you.’ Alongside the nice progression from her proclamation in 2x09 that she ‘came to West Covina to search for happiness’ to her more self-aware announcement at the open mic that ‘for the first time in my life, [she is] truly happy’, (which feels like a subversive callback to a certain infamous butter commercial) we also get a reiteration of the sentiment— ‘I came to this town to find love. And I did. I love every person in this room’—that conflates happiness with love in what is now a healthy and satisfying way. It’s the perfect twist that she’s rewarded with the thing she was searching for all along just as soon as she realises she was looking in all the wrong places, and that the place itself still gets to play such a large part in that. And she is able to see Nathaniel’s journey as all the more meaningful in light of her own missteps along the way.

While I have my reservations on the bow they tied Nathaniel’s arc in for the finale (because despite Rebecca’s realisation that there is no such thing as ‘ending up’, there is in the sense of the scope of this series) being a well thought out resolution as opposed to leaning on a previous gag without laying any actual groundwork, the truth is it’s unclear what the true nature of Nathaniel’s sabbatical is/was/will be—mere extended vacation, permanent new career path, or just the initial spark of inspiration in some extended self discovery. That being said, much like Rebecca evolving towards a point where she can appreciate the interconnectedness of love and happiness in a less troublesome way, it is neat that Nathaniel’s resolution follows on from his tendency to want to escape to far-off destinations in an attempt to control his desired status quo. Though his fleeing town is still inextricably linked to having his heart broken by Rebecca, Guatemala, for once, isn’t about transposing his current circumstance to another place in order to cling to something, but rather a carefully selected, specific site for welcomed change.

Independent of any potential that may or may not exist between them as the show closes out—romantic or otherwise—it’s undeniable that these two characters have left indelible marks on each other, and without their respective involvement in each other’s lives, their journeys—and resulting transformations—would not have been the same.

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part II: Breathe - Chapter 6: Just Another One

Also available on AO3! Chapter Summary: Ratchet and Rodimus embark. Word Count: 5096

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They could have left the last stage of planetbreak to autopilot, but Ratchet kept his hands wrapped around the yoke. If there was damage the shuttle’s sensors had missed, he said, better to have someone sentient piloting. Rodimus nodded along with his logic, like he hadn’t been aware the moment Ratchet decided he would do everything in his power to distract himself from… all this.

Rodimus had little room to feel offended. He was trying to dd the same, exploring the shuttle’s interface while background threads worked through anything he might have forgotten in their haste to leave. He hadn’t gotten around to telling the engineers about the ominous blinking panel in engine room 3, and he’d neglected to pick a replacement judge for the upcoming karaoke contest. His consciousness slipped between these background thoughts and exploration and Ratchet’s piloting, both of them trying so hard not to acknowledge the other than they jumped when the alarm went off.

“Frag.”

Rodimus grabbed for controls that failed to materialize in front of him.

“What?” he demanded, looking to the monitors for an incoming projectile despite the answer pooling in his mind.

“Haven’t reached exit velocity,” Ratchet said, punching commands into the console with one hand firm on the yoke. “Forgot how much power it takes to get these old war rigs moving. I’m adjusting the flightpath to buy us time to build momentum.” The alarm stopped. “There.”

Ratchet’s words were echoes of his thoughts, old knowledge by the time they reached Rodimus’ audials. Ratchet didn’t know how to fix that problem. Rodimus hadn’t realized it was a problem. Conversations between them were already a challenge, to add this new dimension was—

They were thinking about each other’s thoughts again. Rodimus rapidly shifted between menu options until the flashing light dragged him back out of his head.

“This sucks,” he said.

Ratchet grunted. He couldn’t keep up with all of Rodimus’ thoughts at once, and even hanging onto one was a strain, so he was trying to create hard divides between them. Right now, he was generating a list of all the medical supplies one could expect to find on a ship this size, basing it on a combination of Autobot guidelines and the kinds of repairs he had seen on POWs. Rodimus’ processor tried to latch on, but the thick jargon kept him slipping off, back to exploring the workings of their new home.

No, was home not the right word? The place they were living? Where they were captive? Their cosmic questing raft? The Decepticraft? The Drifter?

Ratchet withdrew the tracker from his subspace, ignoring the way plinking ideas sunk into his thoughts like lead nuggets into molten cadmium. Autobot and Decepticon tech was not designed to be compatible, but he had performed enough surgeries with parts scavenged from the battlefield to know how to jury rig the connection. As he pulled out a small utility knife, he thought sadly of the universal adapter he had stashed with the rest of his medical supplies, all of it now sailing away to parts unknown. Though he would knock a dent into Arcee if they ever caught up to her, he did hope his kit was getting put to use.

Rodimus wondered how long Ratchet had been preparing for his trip, when the planning had started (at the vote? Overlord?), how he could have missed it. Ratchet recoiled from the blunt curiosity and his list fell apart, dumped out of short term memory as his processor scrambled to pull up the answers to Rodimus’ questions.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

“Just—stop,” Ratchet said, waving at Rodimus like he could dispel the corrosive thoughts with a gesture.

How do I stop? Does it hurt? You’re so quiet? Are you okay? Does it hurt? What do I do? Rodimus had never had reason to stop his processor before, and the effort of trying to now was making it worse.

Ratchet, though, had a lifetime’s experience forcing himself to focus in stressful situations. He stopped responding to Rodimus’ questions, and the thoughts that did come through were focused entirely on his hands as he stripped down the tracker’s cable. Once a physical connection had been established, he would need to register the tracker as a pilot in the navicomp, then reroute the transceivers in the shuttle’s communications array to increase their range.

His calm confidence guided Rodimus’ focus. The stream of questions would not abate, but they were no longer provoked from panic, nor did they interrupt Ratchet’s process.

Will it accept an Autobot ident?

Some even turned out to be helpful.

“Probably not,” Ratchet said, their connection helping Rodimus pinpoint which of his thoughts Ratchet was responding to. “Not a problem, I can just program a new one… dammit.”

The computer flashed red: outdated codes.

“Who was stationed on this ship they would bother updating their security?” Ratchet wondered aloud, his processor trying to piece together a workaround simpler than taking apart the entire navigation system.

Rodimus hesitated, but Ratchet caught it, so there was no point to staying quiet.

“Prowl passed me some intel before we left,” he said.

“Hm.” Ratchet’s thoughts turned sharp, a phantom pain that caused Rodimus to wince.

“Codes,” he said. “Just in case.”

He hadn’t asked where Prowl had gotten them, though Ratchet’s imagination filled in the gaps. Instead, Rodimus had been doing his best to appear professional and capable before Optimus’ infamous adviser. Prowl’s optics could not bother to emote for how unimpressed he was. That Rodimus had assumed this meeting concerning “galactic relations” would be about culture clash with their closest neighbors had not helped his image.

He had nearly run out of the office when Ultra Magnus commed to say he was actually late for another meeting, stopped only by the datapad forced his way.

“A few precautions,” Prowl had called it. Rodimus downloaded the files and stored them among the events on Kimia, tech specs for the waste disposal system, and other things he could willingly not think about.

Ratchet’s hand, poised over the keyboard, clenched and shook itself out.

“I hope you ran a virus scan on that thing before you plugged it into yourself,” he said, doing a commendable job not bringing up everything this subject of conversation was making him think about.

“No, but I passed it through my antivirals.” And it didn’t feel like Prowl was remote controlling him from the opposite side of the galaxy. He doubted Prowl had the processing capacity to pilot him through multiple rounds of volcanic derby racing, for one.

“Here.” Ratchet retrieved his portable med kit from his subspace and set it on his lap. The lists were moving back in: everything he’d lost versus what he had to work with now. Rodimus found himself sobered and accepted the antiviral chip when it was passed to him. “Load this and run another scan. You might experience a few seconds lag or disorientation; just ride it out and let the chip do its job.” A few very rare cases experienced sensory inversion, but longterm effects were uncommon enough Ratchet wouldn’t bother to mention them.

Rodimus cracked a grin as he popped open a port cover and inserted the chip. He grimaced as he installed the program—invasive medical programs were rarely comfortable to integrate—then ran Prowl’s files through it.

So, there had been a tracking signal that Rodimus’ programs had failed to uncover, but once that had been snipped out the rest were deemed safe. Rodimus tightbeamed the data to Ratchet who used it to finish building their fake Decepticon and finally got through. ‘Galeforce’ finished integrating the tracker and set the system to start searching for Drift’s signal.

“Thanks,” Ratchet said, a longer pause than normal between thinking the word and saying it out loud. Internal distractions compounded and inevitably led them to crashing into each other, so maybe talking would redirect enough of their attention to stop the spiraling before it could start.

Rodimus chanced a glance at him but could not catch his optic; he was still focused on the controls.

“No problem,” he said. Drift had once wasted a full off-shift failing to teach him how to meditate. The problem had not been Drift’s teaching: it was all Rodimus and his inability to let a thought go once it manifested. It was like they stuck him, coils of barbed wire wrapped round and around, each pinprick demanding his attention and—”How far is it to the outer rim?”

“Depends where we’re going, and if Drift’s on the move,” Ratchet said. The screen of the navicomp blinked, a pinwheel replacing the previous screen. “Might find somewhere to get comfortable. This part’s been known to go for a few hours.”

“Hours?” Rodimus repeated. Anything that could have once been considered comfortable was covered in junk. The captain’s chair had belonged to Ratchet before they had taken off, and the flight deck chairs were too abandoned to feel secure.

“The transceiver on Drift’s speeder isn’t strong enough to send a direct signal,” Ratchet said. “It’s going to have to bounce between Galactic Council transmission planets a bit before it makes it back here.” Assuming Drift had strayed close enough for one to grab his signal. From what Ratchet understood, though, they were almost impossible to avoid these days. “Whatever we get’s going to be a few days old, but it’s a start.”

Rodimus’ processor drew up a cartoonish map, a dotted line zigzagging between planets to show the path Drift’s signal would take. He recoiled from under Ratchet’s scrutiny, but all his haste could add was a backdrop of randomized stars.

“While we’re waiting, I’ve got us on course to slingshot around Scarvix’s star,” Ratchet went on. A note of surprise: Rodimus’ stress had caused his own cables to tense. “By the time the tracker gets us some coordinates, we should be ready to… This isn’t helping.”

Rodimus was distressed and Ratchet was spiraling. How were they going to make it all the way to the outer rim? What would they do if Drift had nothing for them? Refused to help? Rodimus couldn’t keep tying himself in knots, nor could he endure the sting every time Ratchet anguished over a possible future trapped together.

“I distract myself.” Rodimus forced his voice through the fog.

“How?” Ratchet was gripping the edge of the captain’s seat, squeezing until the hard edge reminded him which body was his.

“A lot of things work: racing, fight,” Rodimus said. “Anything that could get me out of my head for a few minutes.”

Meteor surfing, free all skydiving, asteroid spelunking. Any activity that teased the edge of mortality (crafting a spectacle was a bonus) was fair game. The rush of knowing he was solely responsible for the continued light of his spark never failed to wipe his mind of the stress of everything else.

Ratchet could not relate. Nor could he imagine how they were going to fit a racetrack into a ship just a bit larger than Swerve’s. Sparring might have been an option, were it not for the fact that every step risked tripping and landing face first on something volatile.

The idea hit Rodimus and he groaned.

“What about—cleaning?” Ratchet gestured around them. “I don’t want to put up with this chaos for longer than I have to.”

And there was something nostalgic about it. After the destruction of his Rodion clinic, Ratchet started practicing performative minimalism; anything of purely sentimental value had to be kept on his person, out of harm’s way. Prior to that, his offices had been littered with evidence of a life lived mostly within their walls: chickenscratch notes immediately forgotten, used energon cubes, and fond mementos from old friends he would get around to calling one of these days, for sure. Over days and weeks it would pile up, until he was using his lap as a desk and had no choice but to sweep it all back into a configuration resembling tidiness.

Rodimus balked at Ratchet’s fondness of those memories. Cleaning for him was performed on hands and knees, tips of steel wool sticking into his finish as he worked rust out of wash rack corners. Back and forth over the same spot, over and over and over, until boredom pressed down like it intended him to become one with the floor.

“Punishment detail,” he said, though Ratchet had already guessed.

During the war he had bounced between barracks and military vessels, plugging into recharge docks still warm from their last occupant. How could he ever take pride over a cleaned room when neither the space nor the mess belonged to him? He had tried to improve his habits upon moving into the Lost Light, but there were reasons Ultra Magnus refused to meet him at his hab suite.

“It’s not just about the space,” Ratchet said. “It’s an emotional reset. When you have time to clean, it means the fighting’s over for now.” Ratchet’s memories had lost hold of entire days stationed in field hospitals, brought back only as he had wiped down his instruments and organized his remaining supplies. Rubbing cleanser deep into his joints to free them of the day’s residue was one small kindness he could afford himself.

Rodimus shrugged and twisted in the seat so he could rest his chin on the back of it. He scanned the room. It certainly looked like a fight had gone through.

“Right.” Ratchet did one better than him and stood up. “You’ve got decent knees, so you can start by hauling those shelves back into place.”

“Decent knees?” Rodimus repeated, allowing himself to crack a grin. He shoved himself from the chair and wandered out into the swamp, tripping once as he felt something snap under his heel. “Old joint all worn out, doc?”

“Just got them replaced,” Ratchet corrected, “and I’d rather not break them in on a mess that wasn’t even my fault.” First Aid would let him have it, and he was already due for a tongue lashing whenever they got back to the Lost Light. “This can be your penance.”

“Penance.” Rodimus laughed through the word, though he was already maneuvering around the shelves in question, trying to guess which end would be easiest to lift from given the state of the floor around them. “Right, because I’m the one who put you on this ship in the first place.” Neither would have been out here if Ratchet had just asked to go get Drift.

Nor if Rodimus had gone first—not sent him away—prevented Overlord—

“Here,” Ratchet said, clearing some of the space Rodimus had been tiptoeing around. “Let’s start with this.”

They started together, Ratchet picking through whatever was in Rodimus’ way as he heaved the shelves upright, but their tasks caused them to drift apart, Ratchet sorting through his findings while Rodimus shoved the room back into a semblance of order. He drifted into a rhythm of lifting and pushing, occasionally grunting with the effort of returning the room to its previous state. This plan was derailed almost immediately: he’d had other things on his mind when he first rushed onto the bridge, and the placement of the various shelves and crates had missed his attention entirely. Even Ratchet’s memory of the layout was imperfect.

So, he got creative with it, using the shelves to form a divider between the cockpit and what would have been the command zone. He used the crates to fill in the gaps and form uneven benches along the walls, and as he took to shoving the broken pieces and miscellaneous ends into piles, the bridge started to take the shape of a living space. Ratchet, glancing up from his work only to remind Rodimus not to lift with his back, had no complaints about the design choices.

He spoke up again when Rodimus paused before one of the larger crates, considering it carefully.

“It’s not a bad idea,” he said, “but I doubt you’re the first to have it. Why would the Cons waste space with chairs when they’re already tripping over storage cubes?”

“You can’t relax sitting on a block,” Rodimus said, although, he reflected, that was likely the point.

In the end, he settled for placing a couple smaller cubes on either side of the makeshift table, almost adding a third before he thought better of it and slotted it into a space on the wall, finally covering up the loosened panel from which red light continued to trickle. His cables relaxed and he became aware that he had been hearing a buzz (a melody?) in the back of his processor ever since the flare. The silence that swept in to fill the space was just as loud, but slightly less grating.

His optics swept the room; still chaotic, according to Ratchet, but Rodimus thought it was gaining a shape. Noticing that he had accidentally blocked the door at the back of the bridge, he went to clear it, and was surprised when it didn’t open automatically for him, nor did he see a control pad.

“Ident sensor,” Ratchet said. He had noticed it built into the upper frame of the door.

“What, more secret tech stashed back there?” Rodimus asked. Both their minds bloomed with possibilities, but Ratchet shut them down.

“Recharge docks, more likely,” he said. “We had similar systems on some of the larger warships. Kept bots to their assigned off-shifts.” On one occasion, a superior officer had tried to use the same tactic to lock Ratchet out of his medbay when he was supposed to be recharging. After the public fallout settled, no one else dared to try it. “I can rig up our transceivers with a couple more facsimiles, soon as I’m finished here.”

Rodimus grinned and waved up at the sensor. He thought he could feel a brush of radiation as it scanned him, but Ratchet rebuffed the notion; it wasn’t nearly that powerful.

If that was true, what was to stop the Decepticons from lacing their ships with invisible observation devices? What if it had already discovered the intruders and was sending alerts straight to the DJD who were—

Fifteen pounds titanium alloys, ten pounds compressed carbon, eighty pounds halogen…

Ratchet’s thoughts were calm, regular, and purposeful enough for Rodimus to latch on. He glanced around again. He could start clearing the stairs. Or sweeping up glass. He could create a designated pile of useful equipment, or check that all the navigation terminals were in working order, or perform a quick security sweep. So many options. So many ways to prove that he was taking this seriously and was ready to work to stay out of Ratchet’s way.

“Come here, Rodimus.”

Of course, thinking about his options accomplished none of them. Aware he would continue wasting time if left to his own devices, he complied, plopping down in front of Ratchet. He landed in a relaxed sprawl, his position calculated down to the bend of his fingers.

Ratchet glanced up to him, thoughts of energon stock briefly set aside.

“Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to those meditation lessons,” he said.

“Told you, it didn’t work.” Never mind that he hadn’t said that part out loud; it was the defining feature of that memory. Drift had tried so hard, patiently explaining each step and troubleshooting when Rodimus struggled. They had tried different techniques, positions, even locations, and at every one, Rodimus’ thoughts had caught up to him and refused to be ignored. And every time, Drift had nodded with gentle understanding and suggested something new to try.

Because that was who Drift was: patient, calm, nonjudgmental. A forged mentor.

Ratchet’s thoughts hit him like acid rain.

“Did you know your ‘best friend’ at all?”

Of course he did, he wanted to say. All the important bits! Like that he was more regimented than Magnus when it came to his refueling schedule: one cube at the start of duty shift, and one at off-shift, every single cycle. That with his years brought experience untold, solutions and advice always at the ready. That Drift had been, and still was, extremely dangerous.

But when he dove inward to find these answers, he discovered something else: another Drift, sharp, with tattered, ill-defined edges that nonetheless drew and intimidating silhouette. This Drift was cloaked not in radiant light, but wrapped himself in darkness like a shawl, and when he tried to speak it was in many voices, none of which Rodimus recognized.

���Real friends don’t worship the ground you walk on,” Ratchet was saying. “I know your perception’s skewed since you think you have to live up to the very scratches in Optimus’ finish, but that behavior’s not healthy and it’s not normal. Drift is a real person, not some sort of—of fantasy fulfillment for you to drain until your hero complex is satisfied.”

Impatient, masking over constant stress, deeply critical of everyone but wrestling with his own failings: the other Drift’s hand appeared not with a sword, but a gun.

“I’m sorry.”

And vanished.

Ratchet released his death grip on an energon cube and set it aside.

“Not me you need to apologize to.”

“I know,” Rodimus said. “But you’re here, and it means something to you.”

“It doesn’t.” Ratchet’s lie was scratchy, like a frayed wire. “Drift’s made plenty of bad decisions in his life.” You’re just another one.

That’s not any of your business.

Habit kept them civil on the outside, but nothing, least of all self control, could stop them from thinking their truths. Drift had taken his post-war freedom and handed it straight to Rodimus, his dripping optimism like a fresh protoform faith. He had taken every dirty, demeaning job the Lost Light required of him, because he was good at them, because he wanted to help, because it was the only thing he knew how to do, because Rodimus had asked. Rodimus had taken advantage of, given an opportunity to, betrayed, saved, sacrificed—trying his best and couldn’t help that—

“Cleaning,” Ratchet said. “Cleaning.”

It took Rodimus a second just to find his body, then remember the piles of cubes stacked between them.

“What?” he asked. Even with a mental warning, he startled at the cleaning rag that landed on him.

“Some of the cubes were damaged in the crash, but it’s impossible to tell which when they’re piled together like this,” Ratchet said. He picked one from the pile and nested it in his own rag, diligently wiping away the loose energon before he unwrapped it and held it to the light. “Clean ‘em and check for damage. Get a leaker, pour it into the can with the rest. We can feed them to the ship’s reserve cells.”

The flight time bought by even a full crate’s worth of cubes would be negligible, but that wasn’t the point. Rodimus took a cube off the top of the nearest pile, feeling along the buckled edges. Were it just his own head to deal with, it might have been enough, but Ratchet’s still burning fury would not be so easily shut off.

“He volunteered,” Rodimus said.

Had he? Ratchet hadn’t known that. Rather than calm him, though, the new information made the fire in his spark burn hotter.

“I’m not having this conversation,” he said.

The cube hit the floor with an unsatisfying thud and Rodimus stood up.

“Whatever.” He had a taste of grim satisfaction watching Ratchet freeze.

“Don’t—” Ratchet started, but Rodimus cut him off.

“I get it,” he said. “You hate me. I’m used to it. I get people hating me for who I am way before they find out all the slagged choices I’ve made. But when you’re—you—”

Ratchet was treating Drift like a drone, unable to make any choice beyond its core programming, and Rodimus the cruel engineer who delighted in watching it shock itself. Rodimus could take lashing Ratchet delivered, but objectifying Drift and calling it righteous was a step too far.

“Except that’s not what I’m saying,” Ratchet said. His voice was steady and he stayed seated; he did not try to chase Rodimus. “Of course Drift is self-sufficient. I’ve never doubted that. And I believe you that he volunteered, because it’s the exact kind of glitched plan he would come up with. But the world is bigger than you, Rodimus.”

He knew—

Drift pledging life and spark to a leader whose words struck a thousand furnaces. Cast through self-revolutions of building and breaking himself, each new face patterned after what the last one lacked. Fighting his way up an eroding cliff face of rejection, reaching out…

“It’s more than you,” Ratchet said. “Drift might have volunteered. But I’ve got to check your conductors for rust if you think he wanted to go.”

“I know, but…” If Drift wanted salvation, who was Rodimus to deny him?

“His friend, allegedly.” Though Ratchet seethed with the word, there was a hidden gentleness behind it. Drift needed friends.

Rodimus had never considered that. He knew Drift was not well liked among some Autobots, a target of suspicion if not outright hostility, but Rodimus had always seen him rise above it. Strong and steadfast and as confident in himself as he was, isolation seemed no weight on his struts.

“He’s just a bot like any other,” Ratchet said. Well. Not any other. Neither knew anyone quite like Drift. “He gets slagged ideas, too, and as you’re friend, you’re supposed to tell him that.”

Ratchet had never hesitated to tell Optimus when he was being an idiot. Not much good it had done them all in the end, but memories of yelling at the Prime while elbow-deep in his wiring helped break the tension that had crystallized between them.

“I messed up,” Rodimus said quietly.

Ratchet gestured to the floor on the other side of the cube pile.

“You did,” he said, shaking his head at Rodimus’ ripe disappointment. “What do you want me to do? Say you tried your best and forgive you? You’re right, Rodimus. Whatever your reasons for not acting sooner, Drift’s the one who has to deal with your consequences.”

“I’m scared,” Rodimus admitted as he took a seat again. He picked up the cube he had been checking before and looked it over: no leaks. He put it in the intact pile and retrieved the next. “I liked what we had before, and I’m scared Drift’s going to hate me now that his big sacrifice turned out to be for nothing.”

“What you had before wasn’t sustainable,” Ratchet said. He had moved back into his own rhythm, optics on his hands while he spoke to Rodimus. “Want to talk about objectifying? You treated Drift like a personal worshiper.”

Rodimus ducked his helm. It sucked to feel Ratchet’s scrutiny even without those fierce optics on him, but he knew it was deserved. It had just been so nice to feel appreciated for once. To have someone tell him, without disclaimer or exception, that he was good at something and could help people. Everyone else was always searching for his flaw; Drift had been the first to explore Rodimus with the intention to find his virtues. It was the praise Rodimus missed most, second only to the camaraderie, and even while acknowledging it was for the best, it still stung to know he couldn’t have that back.

Ratchet set down a cube and did not immediately reach for another one.

“I can’t make any guarantees about what Drift will do, but I think you would actually find friendship without aftkissing to be more rewarding,” he said.

But I liked that, Rodimus thought, to his horror. Ratchet rolled his optics.

I’m sure you did.

“Of course,” he said out loud. “And you never doubted it? Never once thought, ‘Hey, this level of devotion from a bot I haven’t shared three words with is a little weird’?”

No. But a few moments slipped in from Rodimus’ memories. When Drift told him about his affiliation ceremony, there were embers of a once blazing inferno glowing behind his optics, a side of the ex-Decepticon that Rodimus told himself was but a lingering echo. Drift had given up that kind of passion on his road to atonement. At least, Rodimus had convinced himself as much.

“He told you exactly what you wanted to hear, knowing you would fill in the gaps,” Ratchet said. “He is a survivalist.” And to have survived so much, only to once more find himself without a home or support was a mockery of justice and everything Ratchet had believed the Autobots stood for.

That was why he needed to leave.

“And you’re getting your new chance because of it,” he said. “You didn’t earn it, but you’re getting one anyway. And if you really meant that apology, you’ll do something different this time.”

Rodimus knew that, could internalize the idea, but when so much of what he did felt like an externally sourced script running of its own volition, he struggled to make it a guarantee. He could intend, with every fiber of every cable, to do better the second time around. But so often the pressure of potential disappointment became its own self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Well, so long as we’re stuck together, you won’t be alone,” Ratchet said. “I’ll be there. I won’t let you do that to him.”

“Okay,” Rodimus said. He had heard promises like that before, from bot who promised to support him only to turn tailpipe once they learned what that meant.

But now he could feel Ratchet’s resolve. Not to Rodimus, to whom his emotions were turbulent and untrustworthy, but to Drift and giving him what life would otherwise conspire to keep away. He thought Drift a fool for the role he had assigned himself at Rodimus’ side, but he would not deny him his agency if that was something he wanted to regain.

The navicomp beeped. They stood simultaneously and Ratchet moved back to the captain’s chair to inspect the screen.

“We’ve got a hit,” he said. “Vitreous.” An organic planet, according to the report. Neither of their databanks could produce any further information.

“A week?” Rodimus’ voice was tight as Ratchet scanned the details.

“Give or take,” he said. “If we need to refuel, that will add a couple days.”

“Sure.” Rodimus was trying very hard not to think about what a week of this would be like.

Ratchet was doing it enough for both of them.

[captcas]

Life is Short

LIFE IS SHORT by capthamm

Emma Swan and Killian Jones make the most of how short life truly is. **Inspired by the song Cecily Smith (Acoustic) by Will Connelly**

**WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**

read on ao3 / 2378 words

”I’m just headed for a walk and probably a slushie.”

As she got herself ready, Emma decided that she’d rather get a disapproving look for buying another slushie than have to explain to Mary Margaret that she’s going on a date. She turns her head, avoiding said look, as she walks out the door.

Emma doesn’t go on dates but a drunken download of tinder and 3 right swipes later (Storybrooke’s bachelor scene leaving much to be desired), she finds herself walking towards the harbor. The closer she gets the more she realizes maybe telling MM that she was meeting up with a stranger wouldn't have been the worst idea.

Storybrooke is small and she reasons to herself that, if something nefarious did happen, they’d find her eventually.

Killian doesn’t seem to have a nefarious bone in his body… at least through tinder messaging. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Emma?

She walks up to the water’s edge, finding peace in the solid ground beneath her feet. While she’ll admit the view is nothing to scoff at, Emma doesn’t particularly see the draw to spending an entire day aboard a rickety boat or getting soaking wet at the beach. If it’s someone’s thing, more power to them, but she prefers solid, dry land.

She’s lost in her thoughts when she hears someone walk up behind. She turns to meet him and is pleasantly surprised at how accurate his profile picture is— let's just say Leroy wasn't 6’2” and blonde. Emma’s about to comment on his honesty when he puts out his hand expectantly, “Killian Jones and I hope you like sailing because I may or may not have bribed my brother to allow the use of our co-owned vessel for tonight’s date.”

He smiles so brightly and confidently that she can't help but get wrapped up in his warmth, and he’s so perfectly British that even Emma can’t resist swooning a bit. All of these things would’ve been great to comment on, but before she can form a coherent thought she hears herself say, “I hate sailing.”

Somehow his smile gets wider. “Well lucky for you you’re with Killian Jones. I’ve never met a lass I couldn’t win over with a taste of the sea.” He must sense Emma’s hesitation and continue, “Life is not the things that we do, but who we’re doing them with.”

The quote catches Emma off guard— poetic and eloquent in an overall casual conversation. Although, she’s pretty sure he could make the phonebook sound poetic with his accent. She nods slightly and gives him a soft smile before he leads her towards the ship with a wave of his hand.

It turns out sailing takes a lot more effort than Emma thought. She’s currently just enjoying a glass of wine on the faux leather bench behind the captain’s wheel, but Killian has been running rampant as he steers them out of the comfort of the harbor. She tried to tell him they could just stay docked, but he insisted on the view from the horizon line. While Emma is amused by his childlike wonder, she figures nothing will come of the night if he has to be this attentive to the ship the entire time. It’s that mindset which has her sink down in her seat and close her eyes. The steady rhythm of his breath and the slight rock of the waves could lull her to sleep in no time.

She wakes up to his fingers threading between hers and has to stifle the gasp which fills her throat. Her gut instinct is to clock him for being so forward, but when she turns to face him, his face is radiating joy and she can’t find it within herself. They spend the rest of the night like that, chastely intertwined while he details countless stories told by the constellations. “Upon seeing Andromeda bound to the rock, Perseus falls in love with her. Perseus kills the monster and they are married for many years. It is said that Perseus is Hercules’ grandfather. Now they are up there side-by-side with Cepheus and Cassiopeia as a reward from Athena for Perseus’ bravery.”

Emma hums contently and without thought before realizing her head has found a resting spot on Killian’s shoulder. Besides the odd question here and there, Emma has been more than happy just listening to him talk, but at the sound of her hum she feels him tense beneath her. “Am I boring you, love?”

She can’t help but chuckle to herself before somehow finding it in herself to be blatantly honest, “This is the best time that I’ve ever had.”

Even in the dark she can see the slight blush on his ears and the smile that forms. He gazed at her intently for a moment before standing up.

The sudden lack of his touch is startling.

“I suppose I should get us home, Swan.” She wants to argue that they aren’t children but when she checks her watch she realizes it’s almost midnight. It’s not like she’s going to turn into a pumpkin, but MM thought she was just going for a slushie and is probably pacing a hole into the floor.

Emma nods reluctantly and Killian smiles at her, softer this time, but the sparkle still present in his eyes. “Lucky for you, I own this beautiful vessel and we can take her out whenever you’d like.”

She wishes she could say she was shocked at her answer, “I'd like that.”

At the beginning of the night had you told Emma Swan that she’d be willingly agreeing to a second date on the water, she would’ve assumed you were from some alternate universe. As they say goodnight and he kisses her softly on the cheek, Emma is all too aware of the magnitude of the evening.

Her world has been changed forever by one Killian Jones.

. . .

The rest of their 57 years together are split almost evenly between time on land and time aboard that ship.

When Emma asked the kids for help with their dad’s final voyage, she expected a crowd— grandkids and spouses alike— so when they showed up alone with a picnic blanket and a star map, just like “old times”, she couldn’t help but let out another round of tears.

Now as she walks the rusting ramp, Percy helping her and Cassie jogging ahead to get started undocking, she swears she can still hear him laughing. It’s as though the fibers of the sails kept each moment spent beneath them tucked safely away and she can’t imagine a better place for him to rest.

Cassie expertly navigates to the exact spot Killian anchored them in that first night so long ago. They’ve sailed here many times, so it’s no wonder it’s second nature for her. After making sure the ship was sturdy, Percy and Cassie head below deck leaving Emma alone with her memories.

That first date was on a night not unlike the one she’s wrapped in now, but everything else has changed monumentally— very little of the lost girl who boarded that ship remains. She found herself in Killian Jones. His cheery disposition and outlook on the “adventure” that is life pushed Emma out of comfort zones she didn’t even realize she was living in.

The sound of her tear hitting the ceramic vase is what brings her back to the reality of the moment. She’s unsurprised to find her tear a bittersweet one, Killian always assuring her there was no use in spending what little time we have on this planet in despair.

“Oh, how much I miss you, Killian Jones.” She whispers softly to herself as she finds her footing and heads to the railing of the boat. She slowly uncaps the urn and carefully empties the contents into the sea her husband loved so deeply. She clutches the necklace he directed Percy to have made, telling their son that his love of the sea was only matched by his love of their mother. It’s a long chain, and etched into the pendent somehow made of his ashes is a quote from the night they met: Life is not the things that we do, but who we’re doing them with.

She kisses the necklace softly before looking to the stars, Perseus and Cassiopeia shining bright as ever, “Killian Jones, how fortunate am I to have done life with you.”

. . .

“It doesn’t matter why I need her, I just do.” He levels with Liam, slightly rolling onto his toes to meet his brother’s height.

“Not good enough. You never insist on taking the ship so there has to be a reason.” Liam steps back a tad before crossing his arms.

Killian is not getting away with this one.

“I have a date.” Liam’s eyebrows skyrocket into the curls covering his forehead. Killian practically winces waiting for the slew of questions which will no doubt follow, but finds his fear unfounded.

Liam simply nods before turning away, “Fair enough. She’s all yours.” Killian is left alone in their living room completely dumbfounded but also entirely grateful. Liam is fully aware that he hasn’t taken anyone out on the ship since Milah’s passing and his brother’s lack of probing tells Killian the gravity of the action is not lost on Liam.

He never doubted his brother would let him take their ship, but it would be like Liam to rent it out or take Belle out for a last minute excursion without so much as a second thought at Killian prior request.

Any other night, he wouldn’t have minded, but tonight feels important.

He’s only chatted with Emma for a week or two through Tinder— Ruby assuring him he needed to get laid before setting up his entire account for him. The pair hit it off almost immediately, but he could tell she was skittish so Killian let her lead despite his immediate fascination with the woman beyond her good looks.

His outlook on life shifted dramatically after losing his Milah. Many men would have spiraled into a deep depression and the bottom of several liquor bottles— Killian would be lying if he said he didn’t try that route at first— but one day it hit him that he’d been given (albeit in the worst way possible) a brilliant life lesson. Life is short. And that’s the first time everything changed for Killian Jones.

As he walks up to the dock and spots her long blonde hair, his feelings are startlingly similar to that night— the one where his life changed for the better. He takes a deep breath, shaking out any final nerves, and repeats his mantra to himself: life is short.

Typically his date falling asleep before they’ve even reached their anchor point would be discouraging, but to Killian he can’t help but find pride in the comfort Emma feels in his presence. He reasons with himself that surely she would’ve been consistently on high alert had he flown any red flags.

It’s that self talk that gives him the courage to sit beside her.

Bloody hell, is he glad he did.

They spend the night detailing myths of the cosmos and time scurries away from them. He feels every minuscule movement she makes as they lean against one another and Killian is a goner by the time they get to the Big Dipper. Not only is Emma Swan the most stunning woman he’s ever seen— thank god her profile was of the honest sort— but she’s also bloody brilliant. He revels in every syllable she says, each moment tattooing a little more of her into his heart.

He’s worried he’s fallen too deep too fast, when she agrees to a second date— on the water no less— and all nerves dissipate immediately.

Before he knows it, Perseus comes along and makes him a father— Cassie following closely behind. Of course there were more dates, a wedding, two houses, and some fights in between, but when he thinks of the compression of time between their first date and the birth of their son, he can’t help but be flabbergasted. Time slowed eventually, retirement and being a grandparent bringing a new sense of purpose to their shared life.

But life is short.

The cancer comes a lot like his love for her did— at full speed and in full force— and it’s course seemed to speed up time once more. Killian knew his time was nearing the end, but couldn’t find it in himself to be sad.

Why waste what little time we have in life in despair? (Emma swears he said that to her one day, but he’s pretty sure she taught him that.)

It’s a chilly May afternoon when he asks Percy to join him for lunch. His son has grown into a fine young man, a father himself three times over, and he couldn’t be more proud. While he’s also proud of Cassie, Killian knows Percy will do what needs to be done with little rebuttal of “don’t talk like that” and “you’re going to make it”. Cassie feels with her heart and soul, but Percy has always been rational and dutiful. He knows Percy will have the necklace made and he’s positive it will be more beautiful than even Killian could dream up.

Killian is slightly surprised when Percy goes to protest Killian’s reference to his own impending doom, but one tweak of his eyebrow and his son clamps his mouth shut. Percy listens carefully for the rest of the meal, taking notes and assuring Killian he’ll do what needs to be done.

Killian has no doubt.

When the day comes, Emma doesn’t leave his side— he never doubted that she would. She hadn’t for 57 years so why start now? He gets to say goodbyes, which is more than most and he goes out looking into his wife’s eyes— strong, ready, and full of love.

Killian couldn’t have pictured a life half as wonderful as the one he got to lead, and he attributes every ounce of that fate to the woman who he got to do it with.

Life is not the things that we do, it’s who we’re doing them with. - Michael Mitnick “Cecily Smith”

[percival-queen]

{hey chief, i've migrated from doctorsleepytime to over here in the hopes of finding out what's going on with the sentient epithet business (like, where do i start with all the lore? this stuff seems cool but idk how to navigate it-)

{*whirls around in my chair like an over-energetic Mafia boss* Ah, yes... you seek The Lore... I have what you need, loyal follower. But go on at your own risk... for the quest is long. But if you’ve traversed the lands of DST, you should be prepared...}

{So, since literally NONE of this was planned out and it all just sort of emerged on its own, a good majority of these threads are incomplete and/or contradictory in the timeline, but they’re all canon (or merged-canon) and should be read in order if you want to slowly “awaken” to the Epithet/soulstuff at the same time as the characters! I’ve linked each title to the beginning post of the thread, although you may find it easier to simply search these tags on my blog, scroll all the way down, and read up in chronological order.}

[ Thread: The Metal Angel ]

[ Thread: Parapet Erased ]*

[ Thread: Now I Lay Me ]*

[ Thread: Letting Down the Walls ] [1]*

[ Thread: Letting Down the Walls ] [2]*

[ Thread: Nova Clash ]

[ Thread: The Storm Approaches ]

{*Starred threads have a suicide attempt tw; the latter two are post-attempt recovery and healing.}

{Nova Clash and The Storm Approaches are the true first sightings of an Epithet’s sentience, and while they both have some context from the dash surrounding them— like DST, this blog is impacted by asks and dash interactions— all you really need to know is that “Parapet takes over Percy’s new Nova-class body with the intent to protect everyone by putting them all in cages.” Because then nobody can get hurt! Foolproof plan... at least according to a word that has only existed with the “definition” of a protective wall for hundreds of years.}

{After Parapet officially awakens, two other Epithets get M!A’d and are brought into the world of the living... although they seem significantly less used to controlling a body than Parapet!}

[ Thread: Goldbricker ]

[ Thread: Sundial ]

{I CANNOT for the life of me find the thread with Sundial. Tumblr why are you so broken.}

{...and if you’ve made it through ALL OF THAT, you finally reach the point where Percy, Ramsey, and Zora all get hit with Epithet-swapping M!As that— surprise, surprise— just so happen to throw around their Epithets in a circle. If you want to, on my blog, you can read all about the adventures of Sundial!Percy under the tag:}

[M!A: .... . .-.. .-.. --- --..-- / ... ..- -. -.. .. .- .-..]

{...and if you want to read all the content for Parapet!Ramsey and Goldbricker!Zora, you can check out their blogs respectively (tags are Heart of Stone for Ramsey and [Epithet Nonsense: M!A] for Zora, though you might have to scroll down a bit since her M!As aren’t given their own tags). Either way, all paths eventually converge to...}

[ Thread: Circle Game ]

{...which is The Big One (TM) and brings us almost up to the present. After Circle Game, we finally start exploring the exact “who”s, “how”s, and “why”s of the sentient Epithets, thanks to a certain psychologist who— having not checked his inbox during a very long and complicated struggle of his own— reaches out to Percy, and then someone else, after hearing some interesting information...!}

[ Thread: A Chat With The Doctor ]

[ Thread: Questioning the Convict ] ((Not my RP/Percy is unaware/Automatically starts in chronological order due to DST’s superior layout!)) 

{And, again, if you want to know what Zora’s been up to during all this, check out sundialhunter’s blog! We’re up to the recent stuff now, so you can just kinda scroll a few pages back and read up to present day. And by present day, I mean the most recent thread in the canon timeline...}

[ Thread: Borderline ]

{...AND THAT ABOUT WRAPS IT UP! There’s been some dash stuff on both ends after the thread, but everything’s kind of dangling on the edge right now. Hence “Borderline.” How will things turn out? What exactly is the mysterious home of the Epithets? Will VRV ever give us a Season 2? NOBODY KNOWS! But I accidentally spent 3 hours typing this whole thing up, so I hope you appreciate the ride.}

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

Fortune Favors the Wicked. By Theresa Romain. New York: Zebra Books, 2016.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Royal Rewards #1

Summary:  As a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, Benedict Frost had the respect of every man on board—and the adoration of the women in every port. When injury ends his naval career, the silver-tongued libertine can hardly stomach the boredom. Not after everything—and everyone—he’s experienced. Good thing a new adventure has just fallen into his lap…

When courtesan Charlotte Perry learns the Royal Mint is offering a reward for finding a cache of stolen gold coins, she seizes the chance to build a new life for herself. As the treasure hunt begins, she realizes her tenacity is matched only by Benedict’s—and that sometimes adversaries can make the best allies. But when the search for treasure becomes a discovery of pleasure, they’ll be forced to decide if they can sacrifice the lives they’ve always dreamed of for a love they’ve never known…

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: violence, blood, sexual content, domestic violence

Overview: Another read from Courtney Milan’s recommendations page (I’ve been doing a lot of these lately). To be honest, I didn’t have any strong feelings going into this book; I was expecting some kind of rivals to lovers situation, perhaps some thrilling tale of a courtesan running from a jaded past, and while there was a little of that, I was pleasantly surprised by the direction this story actually took. Rather than being a fierce competition where emotions get in the way of each character’s goals, Fortune Favors the Wicked is more a tale about balancing independence with one’s connection to others. While some might be disappointed by that, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and though there were some things I wished Romain had done to enhance the emotional impact of her story, I think there was enough complexity in this novel to keep me interested in seeing more of Romain’s work.

Writing: Romain’s prose is fairly straight-forward without a lot of embellishments. There’s a nice image here and there, but overall, it’s the kind that can be taken in quickly. There was something about her prose style that gave me the impression of disconnectedness; while she depicts the events in her narrative well and makes her characters complex and compelling, I also got the sense that characters didn’t give into emotion and were overall very restrained. This doesn’t mean that her characters don’t have emotions - Romain notes moments when Charlotte stiffens or grips Benedict’s arm in a certain way, but these moments are breezed through quickly and not much is made of them, suggesting (to me) that the emotional impact of something isn’t as noteworthy as the thing itself.

I do think, however, that Romain did an excellent job of writing the relationship between Charlotte and her 10 year old daughter, Maggie. Maggie believes herself to be the legitimate daughter of Charlotte’s deceased sister, but Charlotte has been posing as Maggie’s aunt in order to give her the best chance of being accepted by society. I found Romain’s depiction of Charlotte’s maternal longing to be very well done; I could sense the restraint that Charlotte felt, as well as the difficulty in trying to connect with her daughter, but not quite knowing how after being absent for most of her life. I think those moments were the strongest emotional scenes in the book, and I appreciated the way Romain depicted Charlotte’s struggle using Benedict as a kind of confidant.

Plot: The main action of this book revolves around a treasure hunt of sorts. A hefty sum of gold coins have been stolen from the Royal Mint, and their presence has been traced to a small town called Strawfield, where Charlotte grew up. A number of hopeful “treasure hunters” have descended upon the town, but Charlotte has an edge in that she knows the people and the terrain. At the same time, Charlotte tries to keep her Strawfield life and her London life separate. Being in Strawfield means that she puts a lot of people at risk; a former client has become embittered because Charlotte has left him, so to force her back into his power, he threatens to expose her life as a courtesan to the entire town - a scandal that is sure to affect her parents (who make a meager living as a vicar and translator of ancient Greek) and her daughter, Maggie.

Meanwhile, Benedict has also arrived in Strawfield in search of the treasure, in part motivated by the promise of an adventure, but also by his desire to provide for his sister. As a former sailor, he only receives half a salary and a small pension, so he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of supporting his family. Making things more pressing, his sister is weeks away from turning 21, the age at which her aunt and uncle are to turn her out of their home and cease providing for her (according to an agreement Benedict made with them after the death of his parents).

I really liked the way these plots paralleled one another. Both Benedict and Charlotte were motivated by their care for others - Benedict by his sister, Charlotte by her daughter - and I think this kind of selfless love made for an interesting contrast with the more selfish desires of seeking adventure. I also liked that Benedict struggled with being absent from his sister’s life just as Charlotte struggled with being absent from her daughter’s life - it gave the two characters something in common, other than their passion for one another. At the same time, I also liked the way Charlotte’s status as a kind of object/treasure in the eyes of her clients (she’s called “La Perle” by those who know her as a courtesan - a name that reflects such objectification and is a literal treasure) paralleled the treasure hunt. A former client is literally tracking her down the way Charlotte tracks down the Royal Mint coins, and I appreciated the subtle symbolism that Romain put into these plot lines.

I do wish, however, that a sense of urgency was infused into these narrative threads. Because of Romain’s prose style, I didn’t get the sense that much was at stake for these characters, even though the circumstances themselves certainly put a lot of people at risk.

Characters:  The summary of this book is a little misleading; though the hero does in fact have an “injury” and is loathe to stay confined in one place, and the heroine is looking to build a “new life for herself,” the characters are so much more complex than that.

Benedict, our hero, is likable in that he’s not as self-indulgent as the summary would suggest. Though he does fear being confined by a metaphorical “cage,” he isn’t a slave to his impulses, and he frequently prioritizes the thoughts and feelings of others above his own. He accepts Charlotte for who she is and does not think less of her for being a courtesan, and he even tries to help her connect with Maggie and avoid her former client, though there is nothing that would incentivize him to do so. I was relieved that he wasn’t written as a stereotypical gruff loner or womanizing jerk - I’ve become more intolerant of those archetypes lately, and was pleasantly surprised that Benedict was written as a good human being from the start. Moreover, Benedict is not just “inured” - he’s blind and navigates the world using a cane. At first, I was a bit worried that Benedict’s blindness would be fetishized or that he would be portrayed as having some extra-sensory abilities to overcome his disability, but to my surprise, his blindness was never used as some kind of erotic component in intimate scenes, and though Benedict does have some uncanny listening skills, I don’t think they were super-human.

Charlotte was also a compelling protagonist in that she was constantly thinking of the well-being of others without diminishing her own self-worth in the process. She never apologizes for being a courtesan and making her own way in the world, she only regrets that her lifestyle would bring hardship on her family due to society’s prejudices. I liked that she was able to take control of a situation and make things work to her advantage, and though she had some real emotional pain from being separated from her daughter, she never seemed to be bogged down by self-esteem issues or worthlessness.

The supporting characters were also well-written in their complexity. Maggie is a solitary child whose social awkwardness is balanced by her sweet relationship with the family dog. Charlotte’s father, a vicar, frequently has to confront his mistakes regarding his treatment of his daughter, and Charlotte’s mother, a translator of ancient Greek, is flawed in her single-minded obsession with the classics. I even felt that Selwyn, Charlotte’s former lover and father to Maggie, was complex in that he was self-interested without being cruel, contrasting nicely with the cruelty of Charlotte’s former client, Randolph, who was determined to control her no matter the cost.

Romance: Despite the characters on their own being compelling and interesting, I could not see the relationship between Charlotte and Benedict as  more than a close friendship. This book is marketed as a “game of seduction,” but there’s very little seducing, with emphasis instead being placed on mutual admiration and respect. Benedict is very kind and supportive of Charlotte, and Charlotte seems to admire the way Benedict has made his own way in the world as a blind man. While I liked that their relationship was based on something more than just appearance or lust, there was also very little passion, and I felt that we had to be told that the characters were falling for one another, rather than being shown it. The characters didn’t seem to be very emotionally vulnerable with each other, nor did I get the sense that they enriched each other’s emotional lives for the better. Benedict’s feelings of anxiety over being “caged” are barely present in the novel, so it doesn’t interfere with his relationship with Charlotte until close to the end; moreover, not much was made of the fact that Benedict would lose his pension/salary if he marries, since being a Naval Knight requires him to live at Windsor Castle and remain single. I would have liked to see more pressure put on these barriers to their romance, but even more than that, I would have liked to see the characters help one another overcome their flaws or challenge each other to grow. While there was a little of that in the way Benedict helped Charlotte with Maggie, I think Romain’s reluctance to more completely indulge in the emotional aspects of her story (as well as her seeming reluctance to make the sex scenes truly passionate) prevented me from seeing sparks between our two leads.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in historical romance (especially early 19th century/post-Napoleonic era), treasure hunts, mother-daughter relationships, and disabled protagonists.

[composereggwrites]

Imprint Zine: New Creators’ Spotlight

This is my full article for the twewy @imprintzine!!! There’s still digital copies available of the full zine, and some merch left too!!! It was a blast to write and work with the other participants!

If you like this and wanna chat with me about it hit me up here or in my twewy discord!!!

Ao3

NEW CREATORS SPOTLIGHT

Hello again readers, and welcome to this month’s New Creator Spotlight! We find up-and-coming artists of all types to highlight! From fashion, music, and art, we know how to find the hidden talent in Shibuya and illuminate them all for you to see!

Mr. Mew Creations

First up is Mr. Mew Creations, a new fashion brand led by the fabulous Eri and Shiki Misaki. This duo has taken the fashion scene by storm with their innovative ideas and inspiring designs. From dresses to bright three-piece suits, these two push the boundaries of how we define outfits.

The star of their debut collection is a marvelous dress suit! It’s a dress, and a suit, combined into one! The top half is styled as a silken tuxedo jacket in bold fuchsia, with a pale lavender undershirt and iridescent pearl buttons. The bottom half, however, is a skirt designed to evoke the image of an elegant ball gown. The slip is comfortable enough to wear all day, while providing a backing to the outermost layer, which is a cascade of feathers dyed a stunning cobalt blue.

They have a myriad of other pieces in this lineup, going beyond the binary while staying fashionable and comfortable. From a simple purple shirt with embroidered orange foxes along the hem, to a yellow sweater with a detailed pink squirrel on the front, there’s a wide variety to choose from!

We sat down with the girls for an interview in their studio to talk about their threads, and they had a lot to say!

Thank you for interviewing with us. Could you both introduce yourselves for our readers?

Eri: Yeah sure! Thank you for interviewing us! I’m Eri, the lead designer of our two-person team, Mr. Mew Creations! I do most of the conceptual work, putting ideas down on paper and seeing where that gets us. Shiki definitely helps with that, but her talent shines in, well-- She can tell you!

Shiki: Hah, yeah! I’m Shiki Misaki! I’m the seamstress, so I made all the outfits you can see here in our workspace! Taking what Eri gives me, I bring our ideas to life! We’re both good in each other’s field, but together it feels like we’re unstoppable. She’s handed me some amazing designs to work with, and some I never thought I’d be able to turn into reality. The star of our show, the dress, was one of those. It almost ended up in the trash on more than one occasion, actually. We had to completely redesign it multiple times because we’re both perfectionists, and because someone sees the laws of physics as a challenge to beat. Eri likes to see how far we can push things past their limits, but we work best together because I can reel her back in if it goes too far.

We’re glad you two make such a good team! What led you to make the half-dress, half-suit outfit?

Eri: We wanted to design something that ignored gender norms. Something that defied them, without defaulting to a vaguely-masculine, androgynous look. The fact that clothing is gendered is ridiculous, and there’s this idea that men’s clothing is the default when you want a “gender neutral” item. We decided to go in the opposite direction, and add as much gender as we could, without being limited to one gender.

Shiki: It, like most of our line, is inspired by one of our friends. This dress was originally designed for him, before we decided to use it as part of our lineup. Gender is weird, and the society we live in makes navigating it more confusing than it needs to be. To be able to wear what you want, without worrying about the perception others have of you, without worrying about the way you’ll be labeled? That’s the ideal we strive for, and we hope our work can make a difference.

You said your friends inspired your line. What can you tell us about your creative choices?

Eri: Our friends are unique individuals, and we are too, so we know how to take a look at what people want, and what they need. Not everyone has the perfect model body. Not everyone wants to wear the high-fashion bling, or keep up with all the latest trends. The trick is to find what people want to wear, and design that, instead of chasing what’s trendy. If it’s stylish, people will want it, but it has to look nice and fit right.

Shiki: Just because something is comfortable, doesn’t mean it can’t have style. People are going to notice if you’re not at ease in the clothes you wear, and that unease ruins otherwise perfect appearances. We custom make everything here, and as the seamstress it’s my job to take what Eri gives me for the design and bring it to life. Doing that, while taking sensory issues into account, and ensuring nothing irritates the person who will be wearing it, is of the utmost importance.

Can you tell us a bit about  yourselves and your brand? How you got started, or where your mascot came from?

Shiki: Oh! Our mascot, Mr. Mew, was the first thing I ever made. I still have the original, and I carry him around with me. My quality of work has improved a lot, but he’s a big comfort item. He helps me face all the big scary monsters of the world, and I want him to be there to help others too.

Eri: We met when we were younger, back in middle school. I’ve always been good at making friends, but Shiki was a lot more shy then. Actually, we got in an argument, once when we were 15. I was so worried, I thought I was going to lose my best friend forever over a misunderstanding. Thankfully, we worked it all out, and here we are now! She’s a wonderful seamstress, and all of our friends are so supportive, so it’s nice. I don’t think we’d be where we are today without each other, and the help of everyone in our lives.

 It’s clear that these girls put lots of effort and dedication into what they do!

These girls offer more than some great threads! The namesake of their brand, Mr. Mew, is an adorable cat, and you can get merchandise of him too! Show off your love by picking up one of their plushies, cat ear headbands, and more!

Check out their full line at https://MrMewCreations.Com

 Neku Sakuraba

The artist of the month is none other than Neku Sakuraba! If you’ve taken a walk around Shibuya, you’ve already seen his stuff! This graffiti expert has been gaining a name for himself with stunning displays of color and intricate designs. If you frequent 104 or Molco, you’ll have seen his stylish bold lines on ads for some of the stores!

He first started making waves in the art world last December, when he put up a mural in the Miyashita Park Underpass. Dubbed Hachiko’s Guardian Angel by the public, it features a glowing figure standing over Hachiko, with white feathery wings stretched out over Shibuya’s night-time skyline. There are people at the base of the statue, and musical notes fill the outer space. We reached out to Sakuraba himself for commentary, and managed to secure an interview in his studio!

The space was big, half-finished paintings and sketches scattered across the room. Cans of spray-paint, colored pencils, and charcoal were everywhere. Interestingly, we also spotted a couple Mr. Mew plushies laying around. A second guest, a friend of Sakuraba’s who insisted on being called Joshua, was also in the studio.

But without further ado, the interview:

Thanks for welcoming us to your studio! Can you give us an introduction?

Neku: Right, hi, thanks for interviewing me. I’m Neku Sakuraba. Music geek, CAT fanboy, unwilling follower of fashion trends. That one over there [he gestures toward his friend] is Joshua. Please ignore everything he says. He decided to be here for “moral support,” but I think he just wants to tease me.

[Joshua, at this, gasped, and said, “I would never!” but as requested, his further commentary has been cut from the interview.]

Got it! What inspired you to start making art?

Neku: I’ve always been a doodler. My mom has artwork from back when I was six. The big moment of inspiration for me, when I went, I want to do this, was when I saw CATs art. Looking up at the mural in Udagawa for the first time, back when I was ten, I felt a spark, and I haven’t let go of that feeling since. It’s been rough, I’ve struggled with mental health issues, but art has always been a solace in the dark. I never thought I’d make it this far, or get as much recognition as I have. It’s amazing, and wonderful, and terrifying all at once.

You first got popular because of the mural you put up last December, in the Miyashita Park Underpass. Can you tell us anything about it?

Neku: Oh, yeah! It was the first mural I’d ever done, and I drew a lot of inspiration from Shibuya. In my head, I’ve nicknamed it Shibuya’s Composition. The piece is loosely based off a dream, if I’m being honest. The glowing white figure in the center, with the wings, is meant to be a guardian of Shibuya. Someone who helps the city grow. Meanwhile, the people at Hachiko are waiting for their friend to show, but he can’t, because he’s watching from above, protecting them from afar.

Fascinating! Do you feel like there’s a story you can make from that, one you might tell in the future?

Neku: I don’t think this is ever going to be a story or comic, unfortunately. It’s more of a personal piece. A few years ago, I only had one friend, my first friend, but I lost him. When he died, I isolated myself, and it took a lot from some special people to draw me out of that shell. Even now, I wish I could see him again, and the idea of him still being out there, watching over me and my new friends, comforts me when I miss him the most. I guess I’m like Hachiko, waiting for a dead person to come home.

I’m sorry for your loss. Can you tell us anything about your other artwork?

Neku: I do a lot of graffiti-style works. There’s no other big murals out there by me yet, but I’m working on a few designs right now. People have commissioned me to do stuff ranging from tattoo designs to album covers and store promotions. One of my favorite things to do when I make art, though, is to take the mundane and re-imagine it as something mystical. Why can’t you make foxes purple? Who says there isn’t danger lurking in the shadows? What’s stopping me from adding fire and lightning as weapons, from creating fantastical fights?

Another big source of inspiration is Shibuya. I’ve grown up in this city, it’s my home. If I can look around and see things others don’t? Then I can put that down on paper. Whether it’s as simple as catching the neon lights illuminating the Scramble, or the leaves falling around Hachiko, I can see that, pull it apart, and let my imagination run wild.

That’s pretty cool. You mentioned doing album artwork earlier, so can you tell us what it was like to design the cover for the latest album by The Albatross?

Neku: It was fun! I can’t tell you anything about them, obviously, but it came as a shock when they asked me if I could take on this project. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. But what I can say, without getting myself vaporized on the spot, is that it was enjoyable, and they’re fun to work with. Even if they’re kinda a priss. The amount of artistic freedom I had was nice, and I think we collaborate well together. So there might be more partnership between us in the future, but nothing’s certain yet.

Wonderful! With that, one last question: what motivates you to create?

Neku: Art has always been an escape for me. It can be pretty, or loud. It can shout your thoughts from the rooftops or disguise them under the rustling of leaves in the wind. You can influence others with it, if you’re lucky. I create art for myself, first and foremost. But if I can provide a glimpse into my own secret garden, and let others see pieces of who I am in my work? Then I’m glad. I want to share it. I want to make my mark on the world, and provide others with the escape I once sought.

 This up-and-coming young artist is going to be a big name someday! With his talent, dedication, and heart, Neku Sakuraba might just be the next CAT!

If you want to support him, you can find information about him, his store, and his commission prices at https://nekusakuraba.com

 The Albatross

Our final creator of the month, someone a bit less new, but never interviewed, is The Albatross! Their first album, Noise, featured CAT artwork on the cover: an albatross in flight, with TV static cutting through the image. These two are a mysterious duo, but The Albatross takes the title of most elusive. Despite gaining fame from fans latching onto CAT art, The Albatross has never given the public a single word.

Until now, that is! With their second album, Pulse, set to release in a couple of weeks, they have consented to an interview for the first time!

The album artwork was done by Neku Sakuraba, and it features a feathered white wing, sprouting from the right-hand side of the image. Some of the lower feathers have been replaced with graffiti-like designs.

As for the music itself, their first album featured orchestral tracks, heavy on the violin, alongside electro-punk tunes! Some were instrumental, while others had lyrics. Pulse is looking to be the same style, but rather than the dark themes of Noise, it contains brighter, more hopeful songs.

We went through a lot of paperwork, involving multiple non-disclosure agreements, and the interview took place over a call while they utilized a voice changer, but it was worth it! And we’re happy to share what we’ve learned with you!

Thank you for choosing to have your first interview ever be with us! Can you give us an introduction? Nothing too personal is required!

Albatross: You were the only ones I felt were trustworthy, and the only ones completely willing to honor my anonymity. Also, a friend may have bribed me into it with promises of ramen. As for introductions… I am The Albatross, composer of music, avid Tin Pin fan, and a nerd when it comes to all things Shibuyan. History, culture, the trends. I thrive off her, it’s like the city’s got a pulse that matches my heartbeat.

Shibuya is amazing, we agree. Can you tell us why you chose your alias?

Albatross: There’s a lot of symbolism in the albatross. The bird can be a sign of good luck for sailors, historically. In the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, though, one of the sailors kills an albatross, and thus it becomes a curse. He bears the burden as the other sailors hang the bird around his neck, reminding him of how he’s doomed them all. I’ll let fans keep speculating on why I picked it, though. I can’t give away all my secrets here.

Of course. We wouldn’t want you to spoil all the fun! How do you make your music?

Albatross: It’s amazing what you can do with technology! I know how to play the violin and piano, so any parts in my songs with those are actually me playing, but for the rest I use a few different music programs! For vocals, I outsource it to Shibuyan singers, but all lyrics are still written by me. In the end, I weave everything together, and finagle it so it fits.

Sounds like a lot of work. Where do you get your inspiration for it all?

Albatross: From Shibuya! This city has a life of her own. Feet tapping against pavement, voices reaching through the air, all the beeps and honks and the myriad of noises that resound in every corner; it all creates a rhythm, it creates music. Sometimes I’ll sit and let it all wash over me. The city holds so much, a million stories fighting for attention. They echo in my head, begging to be told, so I write them. I turn them into music in the hopes of expressing their messages for everyone to hear.

The tone between your first and second album has changed a lot, from what the previews are showing. Is there a reason for this?

Albatross: Yeah. I’m going to be blunt. When I wrote and released my first album, I was suicidal. Completely isolated from the rest of humanity, with no friends or good experiences to fall back on for comfort. My only outlet was music, and because I was so depressed and misanthropic, my work reflected this. I saw the world as poisoned, felt like people would never change, and thought my existence contributed to the negativity.

But now? I have friends. Someone entered my life, not quite of their own free will, but they stuck around. They dragged me into the sun, undoing all my self-sabotaging attempts, and they helped me grow. Helped me learn to see the good in humanity again. Shibuya is full of life, full of creativity, of people trying to do their best and help others. I wasn’t able to see it before, vision clouded with my own preconceived notions, but they… Removed the tinted glasses from my face, so to speak. And this is why my new album is more hopeful and lighthearted.

You mentioned mental health, just now. Are you able to elaborate on any of that?

Albatross: Mhm, I can. It’s not pleasant, but… Mental health isn’t talked about enough, even though it impacts so many people. I’ve had depression for years now. I still do. Some friends and a few bonding experiences doesn’t magically cure everything. There is no magic cure. What helps is finding people you can rely on when things get tough. If I lock myself in my apartment, I used to hide away for weeks. Now, though? One of them comes knocking after a few days, with ramen and orders to shower. Sometimes it can feel like you’re going to shatter into a million pieces. But instead of falling apart in secret and cutting myself on the shards of glass, I have people who hold me as I break, minimize the damage, and help me piece myself back together.

Recovery is not a straight line, and there’s no end to the winding trail you take. What’s important is having friends there with you. People who help you stand up when you stumble, who help you make camp when you need to rest. Find someone who makes you feel safe enough to fall apart. Someone who can be there to pick up the broken shards, and help you create something new and beautiful with the pieces.

 The Albatross is still a mystery to us all, but hopefully their words and music have reached those of you who need to hear them!

They don’t have an official website, but you can find The Albatross on your preferred music streaming service, or head to a local music shop to pick up their stuff! Don’t forget to pre-order their newest album, Pulse, and if you haven’t grabbed Noise yet, be sure to snag that too!

And that’s all for our New Creators Spotlight this month! Be sure to get next month’s issue for all our latest stories, and to discover the up-and-coming talents of Shibuya!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

2010s Art: Music, Games, and TV

So I love all forms of art. It may not seem like it since I tend to stick mainly to movies, with the odd cartoon or video game thrown in, but that’s really because movies are more my thing due to not being massive time investments. Like, don’t get me wrong, I gamed, I watched TV, I listened to music, but it was a lot more casual than my deep dive into becoming a major cinephile.

With games and TV, it was mostly issues of money and time respectively. I have a few consoles, mostly Nintendo and Sony ones, and my wife helped me experience Xbox games, but I just don’t have the money needed to experience every good game that comes out. With TV, the time investment is the biggest roadblock, especially when all the best shows have hour-long episodes these days. With movies, I just have to spend 90 minutes to two hours on average; for TV, it’s countless hours I could be watching movies. As for music… well, I listened to a lot, I just don’t feel totally qualified to properly rank and list songs and albums.

So instead of the big decade-spanning list for movies that I’m doing, I’m going to go over some things I enjoyed from the past decade and maybe a few things I didn’t in music, TV, and video games. Here’s a little guide so you know what stuff is something I consider one of my absolute favorites in any given medium - if it’s from this decade, it will be in bold, and if it’s from a previous decade but I experienced it this decade, it will be underlined.

Television

I figured I’d get this out of the way first since it’s the medium I have the least experience with. Let me put it this way: I have seen only one season of Game of Thrones, the first one (and by all accounts I dodged a bullet by dropping that show). I also had the misfortune of jumping in to The Walking Dead right as it was gearing up for its abysmal second season, which turned me off that and led to me only watching an episode here or there. 

I had better luck watching live action shows on streaming. I managed to get through almost all of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix, which was a chore in and of itself; it’s a good show, but boy could it ever get arbitrary and frustrating. Speaking of Netflix, I think it goes without saying that Stranger Things is their best effort; from the likable cast of kids to the awesome soundtrack, even though it never really surpasses season one the show always has something cool going on in one of its plots. My other favorite from Netflix would probably be their take on A Series if Unfortunate Events, which is how you do adaptation expansion right; everything they add feels like it’s in service of fleshing out Lemony Snicket’s dismal world, as well as giving Patrick Warburton an incredible dramatic role as the Lemony narrator himself.

Amazon managed to score two hits in my book. The first is the unbelievably fun and charming Good Omens, a miniseries that somehow got me to love David Tennant and Michael Sheen more than I already did. The second was the gory joyride that is The Boys which while not the smartest or most original superhero satire is definitely the most fun.

While I didn’t watch the whole show and would not consider it one of my favorites, I do want to give props to Hannibal for introducing me to Mads Mikkelsen. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only person aside from Hopkins worthy of playing everyone’s favorite cannibal. Another show I DO consider a favorite despite slacking on keeping up with it is Ash vs. Evil Dead; I only needed to see a single season of Bruce back with the boomstick to know this show was a masterpiece.

On the animated side I have much more to talk about. Not since the 90s have we been spoiled with so many genuinely great and varied cartoons. We got Adventure Time, Regular Show, Steven Universe… really, Cartoon Network raised the bar this decade and made up for an awful 2000s. They even finally gave Samurai Jack a conclusion, which despite the mixed results, was still a real exciting phenomenon to experience.

Of course, my favorite CN show came from Adult Swim. I am of course referring to Rick & Morty, a fun sci-fi adventure comedy that attracted the most obnoxious fanbase possible in record time. While certainly not a show you need a high IQ to understand and having an atrocious third season, it still manages to be funny and thought provoking in equal amounts. Seriously though. Fuck season 3.

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is another great show that I sadly fell off the wagon of around the fifth or sixth season. It never got bad of course but it never really engaged me like the older episodes, though what I’ve heard of the last season makes me wish I’d kept up with it. It was a great show with a lot of heart and character, and I’m not sure we’ll ever see a show like it again.

Netflix did not slack in the animation department; I didn’t catch their most famous show (it’s the one about a certain Horseman) but I did catch their fantastic take on Castlevania, which as a huge fan of the series was a real treat. Where the fuck is Grant though?

My two favorite shows of the decade, however, are what I see as the pinnacle of East and West: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and Gravity Falls. 

JJBA is a series I had vague passing knowledge of, only knowing its existence due to seeing Stone Ocean referenced on the Wikipedia page for air rods when I was younger and, of course, the memes that spawned from Heritage for the Future, which were inescapable back in the day. As soon as I got into the series, it became one of my biggest inspirations, teaching me you can be deep, complex, and filled with great character interactions while also being so batshit insane that every new and absurd power is incredibly easy to buy (looking forward to the rainbows that turn people into snails, animators). They managed to get through the first four parts and start up the fifth over the decade; so far my favorite part is four, mainly due to the magnificent bastard that is Yoshikage Kira (played time perfection by D.C. Douglas) and in spite of serial creep Vic Mangina playing the otherwise lovable asshole Rohan Kishibe.

Gravity Falls on the other hand is just a fun and engaging mystery show that manages to excel at being episodic and story-driven all at once. There’s only one or two “bad” episodes across two seasons, and it lasted just as long as it needed to, wrapping things up with a satisfactory ending that still gave fans a few mysteries to chew on. It also gave us Grunkle Stan, perhaps the greatest character in all of animation, the pinnacle of “jerk with a heart of gold” characters who is hilarious, badass, and complex all at once. This is my favorite western animated show…

...but then the last year of the decade threw a curveball and, if I’m being honest, is on par with Gravity Falls: Green Eggs and Ham. Netflix really wanted us to know 2D animation is back in 2019; between this show and Klaus, the future is looking bright for the medium. It’s a fun, funny roadtrip comedy that knows when to be emotional and when to be funny, and it’s all filtered through the wubbulous world of Dr. Seuss. It’s just a wonderfully delightful show.

And on the subject of JoJo, I had a kind of love-hate relationship with anime this decade. The attitudes of anime fans turned me off from anime for a long while. Sure, I checked out stuff like Attack on Titan and Sword Art Online, but neither series really clicked with me. The main anime I loved this decade were ones that started in the 2000s and ended in the 2010s, like Dragon Ball Z Kai and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I suppose I did enjoy My Hero Academia, which is a really fun show with an awesome and varied cast and great voice acting. Love Froppy, best girl for sure.

One of the most unfortunate things about this decade was how many great shows got screwed over by their networks. Sym-Bionic Titan, Thundercats, and The Legend of Korra were all great shows in their own right but were treated like shit by their respective networks. It really makes me upset that stuff like that not only happened, but continues to happen to this day.

But let’s not end on a bad note; let’s talk about the astounding returns old shows got. Invader Zim got a movie as did Hey Arnold, with the latter in particular finally wrapping up the dangling plot threads, but those are actual TV movies so they don’t really fit here; what DOES fit is Static Cling, the triumphant return of Rocko’s Modern Life. A forty minute special, it follows Rocko and his friends as they navigate the modern age, trying to bring back Rocko’s favorite cartoon. Rachel Bighead’s arc in this in particular is pretty groundbreaking and awesome. 

Also awesome was the first few episodes of Samurai Jack’s return, though it did end up petering out halfway through the season and ended on an anticlimactic note. Still, Tom Kenny’s Scaramouche, the sheer amount of continuity, and the awesome final curbstomp battle against Aku are worth giving this a watch. And if nothing else, stuff like this gives me hope for future revivals. What will we see next? Gargoyles comeback? Batman Beyond continuation? KENNY AND THE CHIMP REVIVAL?! Chimpers rise up!

Music

Much like everyone, I listened to a lot of music this decade. There was a lot of shit, and I definitely used to be one of those “wow no one makes good music anymore” morons, but I grew out of that and learned to look in the right places.

Let’s start with the albums I loved the most. Continuing her meteoric rise from the 2000s, Lady Gaga drooped her magnum opus, Born This Way, an album that successfully showcases her skills as she takes on numerous pop styles. No two songs sound the same, and with a couple of exceptions every song slaps. While we’re on the subject of pop stars, Gaga’s contemporary and lesser Katy Perry managed to hit a home run with the fun bit of pop fluff that was Teenage Dream.

Weird Al was sorely missed for most of the decade, but what albums he did drop featured some of his best work. While Alpocalypse doesn’t hold up quite so well, it’s still solid, but even then it is blown out of the water by Mandatory Fun, an album that just refuses to stop being funny from start to finish. And that’s not the only funny albums this decade; aside from artists I’ll get more into later, George Miller AKA Filthy Frank released Pink Season as one of his last great acts as his character of Pink Guy. The album is as raunchy and filthy as you’d expect. And then for unintentional comedy, Corey Feldman dropped Angelic 2 The Core, an album so musically inept that it ends up becoming endearing; it’s The Room of music.

As I gamed a lot this decade I got to experience a lot of great video game soundtracks, but the two I found to be the absolute best were Undertale and Metal Gear Rising’s. I couldn’t tell you which soundtrack is better, and I’ve actually made a playlist on my iPod containing my favorite tracks from both games. Pokemon had solid soundtracks all decade, but they definitely were better in single tracks such as Ultra Necrozma’s theme from USUM and Zinnia’s theme from ORAS.

And speaking of individual songs, there were a lot I really loved. The disco revival in the easel ide half of the decade lead to gems like “Get Lucky,” “Uptown Funk,” and… uh, “Blurred Lines.” The controversy to that one might be overblown, but it sure isn’t anything I really want to revisit.

Corey Feldman may be the king of unintentional comedy, but this decade was seriously ripe with so bad it’s good music. The crown jewel is without a doubt the giddy, goofy “Friday,” but I think the equally stupid but also endlessly more relatable Ark Music production “Chinese Food” is worth some ironic enjoyment as well. 

Meme songs in general were pretty enjoyable, though it came at a price. Remember when everyone tried to be funny by ripping off “Gangnam Style?” Remember when people took that Ylvis song at face value? Irony and satire were lost on the masses. I think the best mene song of the decade, though, is “Crab Rave,” a bouncy instrumental dance track with a fun music video and an absurd yet hilarious meme tacked to it. And then we have “The Internet is for Music,” a gargantuan 30 minute mashup featuring every YTMND, 4chan, Newgrounds, and YouTube meme you could think of (at the time of its release anyway),

Then we get into artists. Comedy music was great this decade, with Steel Panther and The Lonely Island putting out great work all decade, but by far my favorite funny band is Ninja Sex Party. Dan “Danny Sexbang” Avidan and Brian “Ninja Brian” Wecht are pretty much my favorite entertainers at this point, with them easily being able to go from doing goofy yet epic songs where they fuck or party to doing serious and awesome cover albums where Dan flexes his impressive vocals. A big plus is how all of their albums are easily some of my favorites ever, with not a single bad CD, and that’s not even getting into their side project Starbomb. These guys are a treasure.

Then we have Ghost, a Swedish metal band who play up the Satanic panic for all it’s worth. These guys captured my interest when I heard the beautiful “Cirice” on the radio, and despite that song rocking the fuck out, Imagine my surprise when it ended up being only middle of the road awesome for this band! With killer original songs like “Rats,” “Mary in the Cross,” and “Square Hammer” to a awesome covers like “Missionary Man” and “I’m a Marionette,” it’s almost enough to get a guy to hail Satan. I think they appeal to me mainly because they have a style very in line with the 80s, most evident on tracks like “Rats.” 

While I’d hesitate to call him one of my favorite musicians yet (he is really good so far though), one of my favorite people in entertainment is Lil Nas X. From his short but sweet songs that crush genre boundaries to his hilarious Twitter feed, this guy is going places and I can’t wait to see what those places are.

And finally, the guy I think may be one of the greatest creative geniuses alive and who has nearly singlehandedly shaped Internet culture with everything he does… Neil Cicierega. While it’s not like I only discovered him in the 2010s - the guy has been an omnipresent force in my life since Potter Pupper Pals debuted - he definitely became the guy I would unflinchingly call the greatest artist of our time over that period.   Whether he’s releasing the songs under his own name or as Lemon Demon, you can always be sure that the songs are going to burrow into your brain. His Lemon Demon album Spirit Phone, which features songs about urban legends and the horrors of capitalism, is easily my pick for album of the decade. And then under his own name he released three mashup mixtapes: Mouth Sounds, Mouth Silence, and Mouth Moods. All three are stellar albums, but only Mouth Moods has “Wow Wow,” the bouncing track about homoerotic bee-loving Will Smith and outtakes so good they deserve to be on the next album.

Video Games 

Having a PC this decade was great because it let me experience a lot of games I probably wouldn’t have otherwise, like Half-Life, BioShock, Earthnound, Mother 3, and Final Fantasy VI and VII. All of these and more are among my favorite games of all time now, but we’re here to talk about the stuff from this decade I consider great.

It’s hard to talk about this decade in gaming without mentioning Skyrim. Yes, it has flaws and the main storyline is a bit undercooked, but there’s so much fun to be had dicking about in the wilderness it’s hard to be too mad. And if you have mods, there are endless opportunities to expand the game. The same is true for the other game I have sunk countless hours into, The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth. Not only is there a thriving modding community, but it has been supported and encouraged by the creators and some mods have even made the leap into becoming fully canon! It’s always a blast to revisit and see how far I can break the game with item combos.

Surprisingly, Batman managed to get not one, not two, but THREE awesome licensed games this decade! Arkham Asylum, Arkham City, and the unfairly maligned Arkham Origins all kick as much ass as the Dark Knight himself. The former two reunite Mark Hamill and Kevin McConroy as Joker and Batman while the latter features numerous stellar boss battles. The combat in these games is so graceful and fluid, you WILL feel like Batman at some point, be it after flawlessly clobbering two dozen mooks or silently eliminating a room of thugs before they even realize you’re there.

Pokémon had a bit of a rocky decade; it started out strong with the fifth generation, the best games in the series with a great story, region, and sidequests and then just went downhill from there. Not incredibly so, of course - the games were always fun at least - but gens VI through VIII were not the most graceful steps into 3D. Still, every gen managed to produce some of my all-time favorite Pokémon. Gen V had Volcarona, Chandelure,  and Meloetta; Gen VI gave us Hoopa, Klefki, the Fairy type in general, and a gorgeous mega evolution for my favorite Pokémon, Absol; Gen VII had the Ultra Beasts and Ultra Necrozma, some of the coolest concepts in the series, as well as Pyukumuku; and Gen VIII gave us Cinderace, Dracovish, Dracozolt, Polteageist, Hatterene, Snom, and Zacian. And those are just samplings mind you, these gens are full of hits.

Bringing back old franchises yielded amazing results. Look no further than the triumphant return of Doom in 2016, which had you ripping and tearing through the forces of Hell with guns, chainsaws, and your bear fucking hands. This game is HARDCORE. Less bloody and gory but no less awesome was the return of not just Crash Bandicoot, but Spyro as well in remakes that are easily the definitive ways to experience the games. And don’t even get me started on the remastered DuckTales!

Platinum games did not fuck around this decade, delivering Bayonetta 2 and Metal Gear Rising. The former is a balls-to-the-wall sequel to the amazing original Bayonetta that, while lacking in bosses quite as impressive as the first game’s, is more polished and has a fun story and a better haircut for Bayonetta; the latter is an action game so insane it makes the rest of the Metal Gear franchise look tame in comparison. The latter in particular is in my top ten games ever, with every boss battle feeling epic, all the music kicking ass, and Raiden truly coming into his own as a badass.

Speaking of Metal Gear, the divisive The Phantom Pain easily earns its place here. While much fuss has been made about the game being “unfinished,” it still has a complete and satisfying ending even if it doesn’t totally wrap up the dangling plot threads the young Liquid Snake leaves behind. The overarching themes as well as Venom and his relationship with characters like Kaz, Paz, and ESPECIALLY Quiet make this game, with his and Quiet’s being particularly beautiful and tragic. The Paz quest, Quiet’s exit, and the mission where Snake has to put down his men after they get infested with parasites are all some of the most heartbreaking moments in the franchise. But it’s not all tears; there’s plenty of fun to be had harassing Russians in Afghanistan while blaring 80s synth pop from your Walkman. Oh yeah, and fuck Huey.

The Ace Attorney series also thrived, with both Spirit of Justice and Dual Destinies transitioning the series into 3D a lot more graceful than some other franchises while still maintaining the with and charm the series is known for. And if that wasn’t enough for my point-and-cluck adventure needs, Telltale had me covered with The Wolf Among Us and the first season of The Walking Dead. The stories and characters of those games are so good, it’s enough to make you sad they never got a timely sequel or sequels that weren’t shit respectively.

This decade is when I really got into fighting game, though I’m not particularly good. I supported Skullgirls (and am even in the credits!), and got into Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3 and JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: All-Star Battle (and I also got into its spiritual predecessor, Heritage for the Future). But by and large my favorite fighting game of the decade and the one I’m actually pretty good at is Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, the most ridiculously ambitious crossover in video game history. The fact that the game is STILL getting more characters added is a testament of how insanely great the game is because instead of being mad that there’s so much DLC, people are going rabid waiting for news of more. It’s such an awesome, complete game out the door that the DLC feels earned rather than half a game being held hostage. Other devs, take note!

A lot of franchises put their best foot forward for sequels. God of War III was an awesomely bloody finale to the original journey of Kratos, with more epic bosses than ever; now he’s off fighting Norse gods, and I hear that game is even better! Portal 2 is just an absolute blast, and easily surpasses the first game on the merit of having Cave Johnson alone; the fact we get Wheatley and the malfunctioning personality cores honestly feels like overkill. Then we have BioShock… 2. While it’s certainly not as good as the first game, I think it was a lot of fun, and it got way too much flak.

 I think it definitely aged better than Infinite which, while still a good game in its own right (it’s hard to hate a game with a character as endearing as Elizabeth), definitely was not warranting the levels of acclaim it got with such a muddled narrative. “Overrated” and “overhyped” are not words I keep in my vocabulary and I certainly would not describe Infinite as such, but I do feel like people got swept up in the gorgeous visuals and the story bits and characters that are effective and so weren’t nearly as critical of its flaws. It’s still a good, fun game with an interesting world, but it pales in comparison to the other two BioShocks. I feel like The Last of Us is in a similar boat. That being said, I couldn’t tell you why; it has a great story, good characters, plenty of replayability, and fascinating enemy design. But despite all that, I appreciate this game more than love it. It’s the Citizen Kane of video game sin that regard at least.

I’d be remiss to not mention the big indie successes of the decade. Shovel Knight is easily one is the greatest platform era ever made, taking everything great about the platformers on the NES and SNES, removing the bullshit, and delivering numerous bonus campaigns with unique playstyles. Then there was Abobo’s Big Adventure, a marvelous mashup of all sorts of games starring the beloved Double Dragon mook as he goes on a bloody quest to save his son. It’s a blast and there is tons of variety but some sections are definitely as hair-pullingly difficult as the games that inspired them. And then there is Doki Doki Literature Club, the free visual novel that brutally subverts your expectations. Sadly, I do feel the game loses some impact on subsequent playthroughs, but it’s still a great, effective story that skillfully utilizes meta elements.

Still, the greatest indie success of them all is Toby Fox’s masterpiece, Undertale. Charming, funny, emotional, and populated by a cast of some of the most fun and lovable characters ever conceived, this game was an instant smash and is still talked about to this day. Sure, things like Sans have been memed to death, but it’s hard to not just love and cherish the beautiful world Toby Fox managed to create. This game may not be the greatest game of all time, but for what it is I wouldn’t hesitate to name it the game of the decade.

There was a lot of great art in the 2010s, and while I couldn’t get around to all of it, I’m so happy with what I got to experience. Here’s hoping that the 2020s can be just as amazing!

[kitsune-rp-help]

Starset Transmissions Lyric Starters

First Light

Events we think to be inconsequential, can affect the future unintentionally

What if you had the power to affect monumental change. Would you let fear consume or would you overcome?

We can change our fate, we can change the future, we can change the past.

Down With The Fallen

Light the way and I’ll follow

Can you tell me what is real?

Cause I’ve lost my way again

Can you tell me how to feel?

Cause I don’t feel anything

I’m down with the fallen again

Halo

I’ll be there by your side

You make me more

You make me superhuman

If it means the death of me, I won’t let go

I could be the one who’s always there to break your fall

You are not alone

You’re the sun, you’re the day

Carnivore

But inside the beast still grows, waiting, chewing through the ropes.

Who are you to change this world?

No one needs to hear your words.

Take away everything I am.

Bring it to an end.

Could you come and change me?

Take away everything I am.

I will hide myself below.

Make me fall. Make me bleed.

Telescope

I hear you calling from behind the star fields

I feel you radiating energy like eternal northern lights

It Has Begun

Even a well-lit place can hide salvation

But everyone knows by now fairy tales are not found

We will face the odds against us

My Demons

Mayday! Mayday!

They think I’m crazy but they don’t know the feeling

They wanna break me and wash away my colors

Save me if I become my demons

I cannot stop this sickness taking over

I need your help, I can’t fight this forever

Antigravity

The more I fight, the more I work

But then fate knocks me to my knees

The whole world shackled to my feet

Above the earth I am transformed

This antigravity taking over me

Dark On Me

Send a signal to guide me home

But I found in you what was lost in me

I could lie awake just to watch you breathe

You led my way then disappeared

How could you just walk away and leave me here?

Let It Die

I had plans to make you whole

But all my threads couldn’t stop the bleeding

There’s nothing left, but I’m not leaving

I’d take the coldness from your eyes

Your eyes stare right through me

But I can’t start your cold heart beating

And you left me more dead

The Future Is Now

Yesterday is nothing

I have half a life to rewrite

I am gonna take the past away

I’m falling through a dark sunrise

I will escape the entropy

I will bring you back to me

Point Of No Return

I am hypnotized as I fantasize

The glow of the fire will light up the night

I know, this is the point of no return

There’s something sinister about the way it hurts

The ashes call my name

Rise And Fall

Watch them all lie down

They could never blind me

I navigate the endless rise and fall

You push my back against the wall

[roominthecastle]

post--“620″ ramblings about stuff & things

so 620 picks up one week after the succulent goose incident. Despite those 7 days, our Red remains as angry and hurt as he was before (if not more), which is our first key point. “I can neither kill... nor trust... nor forgive.” It’s quite an unsettling thing to hear, to say the least, and Liz, unsettled, immediately counters w/ “You forgave Dembe.” This Liz vs Dembe thread that’s been earnestly pulled on since 618 gives us the second key. It reaches all the way back to the first episode of this season where it gets established why such a comparison is not working as an argument: “That’s different.”

In both 620 and 601 we have a moment where Liz and Red try to drag poor Dembe in between them as an “example” to deflect pressure, but each immediately rejects this stunt bc they both know that the nature of their relationship is different. The forgiveness of a parent (figure) is not forthcoming for Liz bc Red’s feelings for her are not really those of a parent. This exact issue emerged after her faked death, too, and Bokenkamp touched upon Red’s point of view already, i.e. how the parent figure would have to forgive but the romantic partner is, in fact, conflicted [x]. But I’ve already written a longer piece on this duality, so I won’t get into it here.

And Red’s been struggling. He is heartbroken again and not as a parent. A parent’s heartbreak is equated to “being impaled by a unicorn” and -- still barred from being in her life -- it’s little Agnes whom Red watches riding a unicorn on the carousel. :)

With Liz, Red is suffering through something else that 100% parallels what Liz went through w/ Tom re, love, betrayal, and forgiveness. She was in limbo where she couldn’t kill, she couldn’t trust, she couldn’t forgive. She lost control and cold fury was the only way to get some of it back. And then she gave in to hope and “forgave every lie and believed every promise” only to get betrayed again. Red describes his predicament the same way: she “has lied and deceived me and I've forgiven her every time” and “I knew but I let my hopes convince me that she wouldn’t betray me.” This ties straight back to the idea of being in love == being rendered powerless, which is part of a larger quote from James about self-deception vs true romantic love. Part of this had a cameo in S2 and another is echoed at the end of this episode (the greeting card bit).

The topic of appearance vs truth is the third key that slides neatly into the broader question of Red’s identity. We have two important scenes that poke this issue:

one w/ Ressler when he questions Dom’s story and Liz’s willingness to gloss over the holes to preserve a neat surface appearance: “But is it the truth? Does it make sense that this is the answer?”

and the other is w/ torture master Teddy who points out how Red lives a charade: “The code's like the suit and the hat. You feel good wearing it. Look good, too. Million bucks. But, and I gotta think deep down you know this, it's like lipstick on a pig. It can cover a lotta sins. End of the day, it's still trayf.”

and all this nicely echoes Dom’s words from the previous episode (the “architect of this charade” who’s “stepping into the lie”) and the way Red kicks off the whole show in 101: “Everything about me is a lie.”

Red wears a disguise, is the point. “Raymond Reddington” is a lie he’s been inhabiting for a yet to be fully uncovered purpose. But ever since he met Liz, he’s been longing to break from this. It’s clearly expressed in all those emotional moments he shares w/ her, e.g.:

“I haven't been home in years. But if anyone can give me a second chance, it's you.”

“Sailors have been navigating by the stars for thousands of years. Odysseus spent a decade at war. But his biggest battle was finding his way home. That's Polaris, the North Star. That's how sailors used to find their way home. When I look at you, that's what I see. I see my way home.”

“It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life... bills to pay, play dates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. // Lost how? // In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn't die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became... hideous. I've rarely thought about what I once... was. But I wonder...if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become... less hideous?”

When Red looks at Liz and Agnes, the deep longing for that past self w/ a wife and daughter stirs in him. It surfaces when she tells him her simple yet distant dream of walking in the park w/ her husband and daughter. They want the exact same thing. This is consistent throughout the seasons. He’s been gently signaling this to her and she’s been fleeing from it bc he is just... too much and the idea of him in that role in her life is an attractive yet scary image (see her steamy dream of him in S2 that blends sensuality and dread as Red, having murdered her husband, stalks up to her bed asking what she really wants).

Red’s anger as a way to reestablish a semblance of soothing control and Liz’s refusal to face the truth to protect herself are what we have in that last scene in 620. “father figure” is a buffer zone, always has been, it’s part of the charade Red lives while wearing Reddington’s identity. Despite having pushed for the truth, she is now trying to lock him into this lie, telling him that that’s what he will always be. And if you keep in mind those quotes above that show how Red longs for a past life around her, then you can see how her words likely inflict more pain.

This brings another quote from Red to mind:

“You said something before. The truth doesn’t matter, that the only thing in this world that matters is just the appearance of truth. I fear you might be right about that. Lately I find that the truth has become… so elusive. Often imaginary. But in the end, it’s all that we’re left with, isn’t it? What is real, what you can taste and touch and feel. The words that pass between us as we look each other in the eye are… all we have to hold on to. The truth. I hold it dear.”

In their first scene where Liz talks about finally having the opportunity to be completely honest w/ each other, they sit face to face. And then promptly dance back from it all, esp Red. Then she soon admits to Ressler that she might be closing her eyes to the whole truth to keep things simple, safe and "sweet”. And so in their last scene, there is no eye contact at all as she tells Red that it doesn’t matter who he once was (never mind that months ago she was willing to put him in jail to find out) bc this fake identity is who he is and who he will always be, which apparently dictates that he must play father and grandfather.

The sheer arrogance and presumptuousness of this statement are already begging for a strong rebuttal but it also nicely reflects Liz’s tendency to make things about herself while brushing aside how others might feel or think. She did this w/ Tom when she refused to see who he really was and tried to convince herself he’d changed. And she does this to Ressler, too, when she tells him she knows he did everything bc he thought it was what was best for her, never mind that that was not Ressler’s motivation at all and he, in fact, said that to her already. Her last scene w/ Red has this vibe to it.

The fact that Agnes is part of this park scene is no coincidence, imo. Red is not comfortable w/ playing Liz’s dad. If he were, he wouldn’t have denied being her dad when she asked him in S1 (since wearing Reddington’s identity provides the wiggle room here), he wouldn’t have winced and cringed every time she referred to him as “father” in S5, and he wouldn’t have had the same reaction at the end of 620, either. He doesn’t embrace it, he doesn’t like it, he just endures it. There was a (sadly discarded) line back in S1/S2 about how he would be willing to play any role she wanted him to play but I believe something has changed since then. Even back in 102, he enthusiastically offers her the role of girlfriend and when she refuses, he flatly tells her that she can play daughter then. The preference on his part seems consistent but it will always be up to Liz to give the green light. Or the red one.

He wants to be a father to Agnes and he’s already confessed it in 319 (“I would give anything to be a part of that child's life... hold her... watch her grow.”). And the only time during the park scene when we can see the cold tension melt off him is when he sees the little girl. And when he hears Liz’s decision to bring Agnes home, his stony demeanor crumbles completely.

This is also where another part of that quote from James mentioned above seeps into the dialog: when Red remarks that Liz’s code is not a code but a greeting card -- confused, self-deceiving bullshit (just like Teddy called his code part of a charade designed to hide the scary truth). They are still not being honest w/ each other, they don’t look each other in the eye, they are still dancing around the actual truth at the core of their relationship. Red is deeply hurt, all his hopes seemingly dashed, which drives him to clam up even more and detach to mitigate the pain. He can’t kill but he can try and kill his true feelings for her, I suppose. And Liz is still afraid to face what it is exactly that fuels his intimate commitment to her, so she draws a line in the sand, declaring it permanent. But...

“You know the problem with drawing lines in the sand? With a breath of air, they disappear.”

James stated -- while talking about TBL -- that he’s not interested in material that doesn’t have a romantic/sexual aspect to explore. He also said that he is fascinated by Red and Liz’s relationship, that Red’s feelings for her are strong, complex, and complicated, and that neither is sure of the true nature of their relationship.

so bottom line (to quote Ressler who’s fast becoming the only voice of reason now that Dembe left): Red locked in the surrogate parent role just bc he wears Reddington’s identity for a different, still mostly unknown purpose -- is it the truth? does it make sense that this is the answer?

nope.

And I think it’s interesting that Cooper was designated as a “spokesperson” when he is in the dark about what happened between Red and Liz: the one who is mostly in the dark speaks about a family bond but his assessment (of love, faith, commitment) could easily pass for a wedding vow, too. It’s nothing but fitting, imo.

This latest fallout created a huge fracture in the Red/Liz relationship and I don’t expect them to repair it in the 2 episodes we have left this season. But Agnes is back and I think she will be the glue for these two idiots in the long run, allowing them to slip into a family rhythm that could potentially coax some buried feelings to the surface -- feelings both are trying to ignore at the moment.

[bangtanbetchfics]

Fleur d'espoir (m) | capsule horror au

genre: gothic horror + alternate universe rating: mature pairing(s): au!kim taehyung x au!jeon jungkook + au!park jimin + au!taekook word count: 3.1k suggested listening: noir - sunmi | alone in the city + welcome to dream intro - dreamcatcher | playlist warnings: blood, graphic gore + imagery, death + tragedy summary: a tragic tale of star-crossed lovers is recounted through kim taehyung's diary. notes: it's spooky szn, so i tried my hand at a new style of writing. let's get this bread! navigation: check out my masterlist for upcoming works; new story every friday evening.

KIM TAEHYUNG’S JOURNAL

  Note: Please do not follow me to this godforsaken place, or try to find me if these words end up being the last I write. I fear that in the end, there will be nothing left of me; I have no time to think of it now.

27 Sept | Crash. Screeching pieces of moving metal, screams from every corner of every dark alley, buildings that were crumbling to ashes in the street. Dark figures with rabid expressions roamed and ravaged the streets and ill-sized rats consumed feces off the ground. Rain now dampened the grease-slicked streets, bringing rancid smells to our tip of noses. It was a bone-chilling night in our decaying town, but this is the place we loved. The place my lover: Jeon Jungkook, and I called home.

I moved in to quickly kiss my counterpart on his lips as he neared closer to me. The warmth he bestowed upon me trickled through my frigid frame and cold-nipped fingertips. My lover was a man of similar stature to mine; so much so that people often mistook us for one another. Raven hair that hung to our eyes, alabaster skin, and a strong, lean frame was apart of our makeup. A shadowed figure looked at the two of us as our lips met, and I quickly chilled myself off again, just as the air had before. For as you may come to see, the activity between my lover and I was not typical for our town. We oft found ourselves in inky alleyways and starless corners trying to find relief from the piercing eyes always surrounding us, and tonight was no exception.

As we entered a dimly lit bar, the billowy whites of eyes met our own and we quickly dashed our own gazes away from theirs. As we were seated, my lover shot me an apprehensive look. The fear in his eyes started to grow as we still felt the terrifying presence of those same eyes upon us. I reached my hand out to touch his own, and he quickly pulled his hand away from mine as he realized what I was about to do. I bit my lip and drew blood at the mistake, but I knew I could not make another that night. I did not have that luxury. I felt a strange presence looming over me, but I continued on with my night as Jungkook and I engaged in drink -- enjoying the company of one another.

The two of us exited the property and stood close to each other on the corner, trying to feed each other warmth with our bodies. A shadowy presence watched us, but I dare not meet its eyes. I felt my pulse start to thump in my ears, but I pushed it to the back of my consciousness and hopped into a cab with Jungkook. My brows furrowed as I watched the figure depart as soon as we pulled off.

The two of us became a mess of tangled legs and hushed whispers before Jungkook squeezed my leg. He whispered in my ear and soon after, the menacing whites of the driver’s eyes met mine in the darkness.

Seconds later, I felt a lump hinge in my throat before the side of the car was showered in a blinding white light.

I felt every thought I ever had race through my mind as we flipped through the frigid winter air. The scene felt like it occurred in slow motion: the terrible spins and screeches of the car, the cries that spilled from our mouths, the crackling noises of bones contorting from their homes, the lacerations that formed on my body as a wall of glass engulfed us. The same shadowed figure that haunted us that night stepped from the vehicle that collided with our own. I heard its footsteps crunch upon the glass that spilled from the car. It bent down to observe our overturned state, and its lips curled up into a crooked smile. The shadow stood back up and let out a guttural laugh before vanishing into the night.

I had to remember how to breathe as I took in the scene before me with all of my senses. I could see the fear as it filled Jungkook’s eyes, and tears began to stream down my face. I released my seatbelt from my lap and dropped to the bottom of the car. After I fell, I felt pain start to seep through my body -- but the pain on my lover’s face was greater, snapping me from my own state. His body was a mess of tangled metal and flesh, and syrupy bits of blood leaked from the ceiling of the vehicle. A sharp piece of metal was affixed directly through the center of his spine.

“Please…”

He cried out, and panic started to course through my body. As I tugged at my lover’s seatbelt to free him, a uniformed figure snatched me from his grip and threw me to the street. The car erupted in a roar of flames, and soon after I screamed at the top of my lungs until my voice was raw. I fell to my knees on the concrete as I observed the scene, the rough ground digging into the skin there. The odor of burning flesh and gasoline quickly reached my nostrils, and I felt my lungs fill with smoke. The same shadowed figure I saw earlier revealed his teeth again to me as he stood over my body before I lost consciousness.

***

28 Sept | Aftermath. Tick, tick, tick...I swear I could hear every tick of the clock as I paced around the hospital in circles until I drove myself mad. My breaths seemed to grow tighter in my throat with each passing moment. I slipped into the small chapel that was affixed near the waiting room, and I got on my knees to look up at the figure before me. It’s sweet face seemed to smile back down upon me as I looked up at it, but all my body did was tremble with anger. Heated tears slipped down my cheeks and my fingernails started to dig into the flesh of my palm.

“Mr. Kim?”

A voice called out to me, snapping me from my fog. I lept to my feet and ran for the hall. “Are you Mr. Kim?” The timid doctor inquired, her eyes larger than saucers as she looked up at me. I widened my eyes at her, unable to gather words to utter from my throat. She said not a word, but motioned for me to follow her instead.

“Mr. Kim. Your partner survived, but I need you to be prepared for what you’re about to see.”

Her ominous words filled my ears as she looked at the ground and peeled the curtain back.

My heart sank to my guts as I looked at Jungkook, who was confined to a wheelchair. His face -- oh, his beautiful face -- was ruined from the fire. The flesh on one side of his face was raw and bubbled with yellow pus. Half of his right arm was removed and blood continued to seep through the bandages affixed to it; his right leg, in the same state. Jungkook’s eyes were in a far off place, and he did not manage to acknowledge my presence.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim. But we had to cut him out in order to save his life. He also incurred significant brain damage...”

I dropped to my knees at the horrors before me before I slid to a nearby trashcan and released my guts into it. I hung over the can as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. The stench of my insides suffused my nostrils, causing me to release another succession of my innards. The doctor picked me up by my arms before placing a warm towel over my forehead.

As my breathing grew more ragged, I took another look over to Jungkook before I howled into the hollow night again.

***

30 Sept | Madness. I was oft a man of logic, but a rabid and gripping madness began to overtake me. The succession of events that night -- the mistakes I made...no, not even mistakes. Subtle acts of passion between two lovers threatened to drive me to the brink of insanity. I whispered in hymns and prayers, rambled in tongues different than my own, suffered pills, potions and poisons -- anything to bring Jungkook back to his original state. I searched through books and daily papers to try and find remedies, but nothing came to fruition.

Nothing.

Jungkook’s eyes stayed in that dreaded, far off place that I cursed him to a lifetime of.

7 Oct | Woman. As I stood outside of my home, I sipped in the cool night air. Thoughts paced my mind about the life I now had, and how this newfound loneliness strangled my existence. As I exhaled and opened my eyes, I jolted back as a hooded woman with wilted flowers threaded through her hair was now standing before me. Her dead eyes swirled around my face before her icy fingertips met my skin.

"There is something you seek. Fleur d'espoir."

She hissed. "Hope." She breathed out, moving her cold hands to squeeze my neck. "Seek it again." I felt my air supply cutting off along with my consciousness before breath entered my lungs again.

As I opened my eyes again, there was no trace of the woman.

I ran back into my home and perused through every piece of paper I could find. And alas, as I got to the last page of ads in our daily paper:

[RENIFLER FLOWER SHOP] We have what you seek. In the smallest alleyway where you may peek.

Bloomed in wet ink on the page before my eyes. I rubbed the skin of my eyes again before I took another look, and the words remained there. I knelt down to Jungkook's knees to show him.

"Do you see this? Do you see it, Jungkook?"

I pleaded to him, pointing to the page. His eyes still did not budge from their position, and my eyes filled with tears. But alas, do not fear for me -- this time my tears were ones of joy.

Of hope.

***

9 Oct | The Alley. I arrived in a small Belgian town of legend, rumored to have the item I so desperately needed. This town had the smallest recorded alleyway in the world. I arrived at its supposed location and searched around, but nothing. I tried to call out to a few passersby to help, but they all ignored my pleas. I smashed my hand repeatedly on the wall until it drew blood from my frustrated flesh.

As I caught my breath and touched the wall with my palms, a sweet scent filled my nose that I had not smelled before. I recoiled as a series of fresh vines engulfed the wall, and cracked its edges. The vines settled into the crevices of the dark alley before beginning to melt and decay. A rancid smell quickly filled the air as I approached the alleyway. I held my breath as I slid through the depths of the slim passage.

9 Oct | Renifler. I arrived in front of a storefront:

RENIFLER FLOWER SHOP

The exact place from the ad. The exterior was swarmed by vines and fresh flowers, and an alluring scent seemed to draw me in.

As I entered, my eyes grew wide at the sight. The shop was covered in a variety of fresh flowers -- seemingly from every corner of the planet. Some bunches looked menacing, others beautiful. Some even seemed like they had faces and would be able to talk to you at any given moment. What drew my eye the most was a bed of stark white flowers that seemed to glimmer in the twilight that snuck its way through the glass. This had to be the flower of legend: the fleur d'espoir. I reached my hand out to touch one.

“Only the truly mad make it here.”

I stopped my reach as a voice rose up. When I set eyes on him, I knew he was the man I sought after. Thoughts raced in my head as to what he meant by his phrase, but I had no time to dwell on his words. He gave his arms a reverent cross and rose his head up, looking at me. The man’s hair was a dusty shade of blonde, and his black garments were affixed with various flowers and jewels. There was a seductive glisten to his lips, and he studied me before licking them. “What is it you seek?” The man enquired, as his eyes narrowed at my own.

“Are you Park...P-Park Jimin?”

I asked, trying my best to hide the nerves in my voice. I heard about the man after researching the flower that only he was able to cultivate it in this dark world: the fleur d'espoir, or the hope flower. There were not many texts about it, but I came to discover it had extreme healing properties. Just what I needed to get Jungkook back to his original state.

As the ethereal man approached me, I tried not to recoil as I saw the other side of his face.

It was decayed.

“Who wants to know?” He pouted as he noticed my eyes, and put his hand up to cover his face. “Oh, please excuse my appearance this evening. I just didn’t have time to...as they say...put my face on?” He let out a contagious giggle, and I chuckled alongside him nervously. My eyes wandered back over to the fleur d'espoir, and his eyes followed mine. He raised his head a little as he watched me, gauging my interest in the flower.

***

9 Oct | Vial. “If the bond between two lovers who consume it is strong enough, this plant can do anything you desire.”

Jimin bit his lip as he studied the flower, before picking one from the bunch. He held it up in the twilight, and it glistened brilliantly. My eyes grew big as I watched him, and he smirked, bringing the flower to his nose. He took an erotic inhale of its scent before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His eyes glimmered at me before speaking.

“You'll return back to the lover's bliss you crave. All you have to do is give it a drop of blood.”

Jimin pulled out a long needle, and the sparkling tip of it drew me in. I pressed my finger to its sharp edge, and the pain snapped me from my daze. A stark chill of fear flew down my spine, and before I could recoil my finger -- Jimin pressed my fingertip to the flower. The flower bloomed a blood red color, and Jimin twirled the flower in its newly bloomed form between his fingertips. As I drew fully from my sudden haze, I watched him run behind the counter and pull out a pestle and mortar. He dropped the flower in and ground it up quickly -- adding a dash of a red, sweet-smelling liquid to it. He drizzled the sticky mix into a small vial before shaking it in the air. He affixed a small white bow to its neck.

“This is all you’ll need to give him. Half for you, half for him.”

Before I could blink, Jimin engulfed me in his robe -- and we both suddenly appeared before Jungkook.

9 Oct | Fleur d'espoir. I collapsed at Jungkook’s feet, and Jimin appeared by my side to hand me the red vial. I had no time to question the series of events happening before me. I only knew that I now had hope in between the pads of my fingertips. I quickly whirled the cap off the vial and pressed the glass to Jungkook’s lips. The liquid slid down his throat, and the remainder of it drizzled down the corners of his mouth. I took an equal half of the sweet drink into my mouth. I waited a few seconds, observing him.

Nothing.

I looked back to Jimin, who’s eyes grew wide at my own. He raised his fingertip up for me to look again. As I whirled my head around, a mad fog started to swirl around the room. The fog encased Jungkook before dropping him to the ground, naked. I looked him over as the form I knew -- the form I spent so many nights with -- returned to me. His porcelain skin was smooth as I ran my hands over it.

He placed a kiss on my lips, and I combed my fingers through his lush hair -- looking at him. “I was trapped in my own body...I did hear everything.” We gasped in ecstasy before our lips met in another embrace. “Thank you.” Jungkook cried out to Jimin.

Jimin narrowed his eyes, and then crossed his arms.

“But...you see, I’m not done with either of you yet.” Jimin uttered, narrowing his eyes at the two of us. "But you promised! You promised we would be okay!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Jungkook clutched my arm in fear as he watched Jimin's eyes grow crazed. Jimin flew by my side and whispered into my ear.

"You've both been dead since the accident. The two of you have been lost...teetering between the realms of the living and the dead," He went on-- "And as a reminder...I never told you how long the bliss would last."

Jimin's lips hovered near my own before he let out a menacing giggle again, watching my eyes grow in shock.

“Since you’re twin souls, now bound by the blood of the l’espoir -- your pretty souls are both mine now.” He cooed out, and I felt my veins go cold.

Jimin lifted us both by our necks as we tried to claw at his skin. We both screamed into the night as our skin began to peel off our own bones and become affixed to his.

The missing skin on Jimin’s face started to form as he threw his head back in a devilish laugh.

notes: hope you're spooked! come back every friday for a new post! see my masterlist for a schedule of upcoming works. navigation: masterlist

[wickedsingularity]

Emergency Landing [one-shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x reader (but not really), Hikaru Sulu, Spock, Leonard McCoy, Nyota Uhura, Montgomery Scott, M'Benga Words: 3987 Warnings: Hypothermia, bumps and bruises, blood

Prompt/summary: On the way home from a conference, and just a few hours before Jim's birthday, their shuttlepod hits an ion storm.

Note: This was supposed to be one of the xmas stories, but I felt it didn't quite fit, so I changed it to fit AOS Jim's birthday instead. The story is probably not what people are looking for on here, but it's the kind of story I like to write, more substance. And it came easy to me (the hardest part was finding out what dishes to use for rations) and I'm proud of it. So, sorry (not sorry) it's not a fluffy lovey dovey smutty sugary cliché-fic.

"I'm looking forward to a nice, long sonic shower and a night in my own bed," I said as I altered our course a fraction, hoping it would shave a few minutes off our estimated travel time.

"Me too," Jim agreed. "The temperature in that hall was awful."

Jim and I had been to a conference on Tellar Prime about advancement in warp drives and the impact it has on the Prime Directive. Scotty decided it was better to send his assistant chief engineer instead of going himself, and when Jim told me Starfleet made him go too because of his tendency to disregard the Prime Directive and to act as a buffer between the Tellarites and Andorians if necessary, I didn't hesitate to agree to go in Scotty's place. It hadn't been a vacation by any means. Jim off in diplomatic meetings with other species' captains and representatives and me attending one lecture after another, speaking to the best engineers and professors currently available in the Federation. But we attended a few lectures together, and it was nice to travel somewhere with him and relax in a giant bed in a luxurious hotel rather than the smaller and harder Starfleet beds.

The Tellarites liked temperatures a lot warmer than what us humans were used to on a regular basis. It made me sticky and sweaty and I felt like a magnet for all the dust and dirt in the environment there. Though I had taken a water shower every day, nothing really felt as cleansing as a sonic one.

"How long until we reach our rendezvous point?" Jim asked, swivelling his chair around.

I swiped the panel in front of me. "Three hours twenty-six minutes."

"Too long to wait to eat."  Jim got up and I heard him rummage around in a compartment for rations. "Do you want meatloaf with peas and mashed potatoes or deconstructed fish tacos?"

I frowned, checking the sensors, I thought I saw something. "That's all the options?"

"Sadly, yes. We need to restock."

"Let's have the meatloaf then." I couldn't see anything on the sensors, deciding it had been Tellarite dust in my eyes. "Warm it up for me?"

"If you activate the autopilot and come back here and eat with me, sweetheart." He already had one ration warmed up.

I took one last glance at the long-range sensors, still finding nothing, and then activated the autopilot. The second ration was done, and Jim set them up on the seat next to him along with two bottles of water. "One last dinner date before duty calls?" I asked.

He looked up and threw me that blinding smile of his. "Something like that."

I sat down on the other side of the two lightly steaming bowls of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "Real romantic. In a dull shuttlepod. Dirty and sweaty. With rations and stale water."

"Computer, play some slow jazz." There was a beep, and then the sound of a slow and soothing saxophone filled the shuttlepod. "Better?"

I leaned over to give him a quick kiss. "It was already perfect because I'm with you."

"Trying to get in my pants, Lieutenant?"

"I don't have to try to get in your pants, Captain." Raising one eyebrow, I reached for my bowl and fork and took a bite, swallowing with a scowl. "Need to install replicators in our shuttlepods. The new shuttlepod classes are getting them, so why not."

"The captain approves of this idea." Jim too picked sceptically at his meatloaf.

Even if the food wasn't all that good, it was still full of nutrients and we dug in, talking about the conference, the jazz in the background. It was as romantic as it could get in a small shuttlepod. Until suddenly the entire craft tilted, the emergency lights started blinking red, and a klaxon replaced the music. What little was left of my food covered the back of the seat I banged into and Jim's bowl clattered to the floor.

We both scrambled to our feet, the craft tilting to the other side, and we grabbed onto whatever we could to make it to the controls. I plopped down in the seat and there was definitely something on sensors now.

"Ion storm," I said, raising my voice over the sound of the red alert. "A big one."

"Shields at 70 percent," Jim said. "Warp engine is offline. Impulse engine is online. Life support on auxiliary power." The shuttlepod began shaking violently. "Shields at 57 percent. 40 percent. We need to land!"

"There's a planet about four and a half million kilometres away. Uninhabited. Class P."

"Rerouting power to the shields, laying in course."

The twenty-minute flight was long. We cleared the ion storm after seven minutes and was able to drop the shields and save what little power was left, but the warp engines would not come back online, and impulse engines were hanging on by a thread. Life support would not last us until we reached the rendezvous point. I had already sent out a general distress call and was trying to hail the Enterprise while Jim tried his best to keep the engines online long enough to reach the planet. If we could at least get into the atmosphere, gravity would pull us down and we could use thrusters to hopefully bring us to a not too disastrous landing.

"Reaching atmosphere in two minutes," Jim announced.

"Shields are up."

"Brace yourself."

The shuttlepod rattled and shook, it's nose tilting more and more forward until we were hurtling through the atmosphere like a flaming arrow.

"Hull temperature rising," I warned. "Nearing critical. Rerouting life support to shields."

"Almost there!"

Sweat was dripping down my nose from the heat inside the pod. I kept my eyes locked on the shields and temperature levels, not even knowing what more power I could give to the shields to keep us from burning up. But just as I thought I would faint from the heat, we cleared the atmosphere and saw the icy and snowy surface coming closer and closer. The shuttlepod stopped rattling, and I began scanning for a good place to land. Not that we had much to say in the way of navigating, impulse engines were completely dead now.

"Try to land here," I said, entering a set of coordinates for Jim to navigate after.

He activated the thrusters, but it felt like they did nothing. "I'll just try and slow us down as much as I can wherever this piece of metal decides to go."

The surface was coming closer and closer. I knew it was a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity before Jim managed to get the pod a bit more horizontal just before it crashed into the snow and hurtled forwards. It sounded like the hull was being pulled apart and I was thrown back and forth and side to side and then –

Silence.

It was cold. So cold. A shiver ran through me. Everything hurt. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. Then I carefully pushed myself up from the console with a pained groan. I took a moment to take stock of my body, moving my limbs a little bit. Nothing seemed broken, but I would definitely be colourful with various bruises in a bit. Something on my forehead was stinging though, and I touched my fingers to it. They came away red with almost dry blood.

"Jim?" My voice was croaky. I looked around and saw him hanging sideways over the arm of the chair, unconscious. Ignoring the pain everywhere and shivering from the cold and my heart beating hard at seeing Jim like that, I got up and stepped over, checking his pulse. A breath of relief left me. His pulse was strong if a bit slow. Carefully, I moved him into a sitting position and laid my hands on his cold cheeks. No blood on his face, thankfully, or anywhere else that I could see. "Jim?" No response. "Jim! Wake up!"

He inhaled sharply and his eyes blinked. I immediately planted a kiss on his forehead and laughed a bit hysterically.

"You okay?" he asked, closing his eyes again.

I sat down on the console in front of him. "Apart from a few bumps and bruises, yeah. What about you? Anything broken?"

"Doesn't feel like it." He looked at me and sat straighter, alarm in his blue eyes. "You're bleeding!"

I touched my hand to my forehead again and noticed that whatever was there had started bleeding again. I hadn't even felt the fresh blood run down my face as I was waking Jim. "I guess I am."

"Don't move." Jim stood up, winced a bit and then went straight to the compartment with the medkits. I looked around as he did. The front windows were cracked, the bulkhead was dented on the entire right side of the pod as if we had scraped a pointy piece of rock. Many compartments had opened and rations and equipment laid scattered.

Jim came back again, holding his side, and put the medkit down on the console next to me. He pulled out a piece of gauze, cleaning up some of the blood, before picking up a dermal regenerator for the wound. With every move he made, there was a pained frown on his face and he did most of the work with his left arm, but I didn't say anything as I felt the wound closing up, stinging less and less. He then pulled out a medical tricorder, but I pushed his hands away.

"No need for that, I'm fine now. But you're in pain." I moved to lift his shirt, but he pushed my hands away now.

"Just a bruise, from bumping around in the chair probably. It'll be fine. We need to get our bearings and warm up before we freeze to death."

My teeth had indeed started to chatter. "Right. And set up an automated distress call. Enterprise will have realised we're not going to show up by now and start looking."

Both of us moved a bit hesitantly at first, the cold slowed us down. I tried to find some power to send out a distress call, but everything was completely dead. Jim was pulling out emergency kits, tossing a thermal jacket my way before donning one himself.

"I think we should move out and try to find a cave. There's got to be one. Can't start a fire in here," he said, putting the rest of the rations in a backpack.

"Okay. I'm going to detach the distress beacon and take it with us. See if I can get it working."

Soon, we had packed everything we needed, holstered our phasers and donned the headlamps, wrestled the door open and faced the icy, windy and dark night. We both pulled out tricorders and Jim decided on a course. "This way, I think."

The trek was long and it was made slow by having to move through ten inches of snow. Our boots and pants were not suited for this environment and I felt my toes grow colder and colder with each step. The cold wind made my cheeks and eyes sting, tears falling and almost freezing on my skin. While the cold also made me feel less pain from all my bumps and bruises, I noticed Jim sometimes stiffened up and favoured his right side, his hands rubbing at the side of his stomach. I knew better than to ask about it right now, it would have to wait until we found shelter. And about an hour of walking later, a cave finally appeared in front of us.

"No life forms inside," he shouted over the wind and looked at me, cocking his head toward the mouth of the cave as if inviting me into his house.

I nodded, and we walked inside. The sting of the wind disappeared and the further in we got, the fainter the sound became. Only a faint howling in the distance. I looked around for something to use as kindling as we ventured deeper, but there was nothing but icicles and rocks, the cave just as barren as the landscape.

"I think this is deep enough," I said, coming to a stop, looking down at my tricorder. "Any further and the beacon will be out of range."

Jim agreed and we began setting our things down and wiping snow off ourselves. Then I ordered him to sit down.

"I've seen you wince in pain too many times now, let me look at you." I glared at him in that way I knew he understood it was pointless to argue. I knelt in front of him and lifted his shirt. His entire right side was a flower field of bruises. I gently touched him right below the chest and he shied away with a gasp. "Right. If that's not a broken rib, I don't know what is. You get started on this instead, and I'll get us warm." I dumped the beacon in front of him.

"Bossy," Jim mumbled as I rummaged around in his bag for a pain reliever. When I approached him with the hypospray, his playful grin fell. "No."

"Yes." And before he could get away from behind the beacon and move, I pressed the hypospray to his neck.

"Thanks," he then said a few seconds later, as I'm sure some of the pain went away.

I nodded and started to gather some rocks to warm up with my phaser. And then I took the beacon from Jim and continued trying to fix the damage. Jim moved over to the so-called fire and silence filled the cave.

When my hands were so cold I couldn't feel the textural difference between a metal screw and a piece of fabric, I finally got the beacon to power up. I set it to transmit the same distress call we had sent out earlier and wandered over to Jim who held out a water bottle for me.

"Warm up a bit, sweetheart. All we can do now is try to keep warm and wait."

I took a large swig from the bottle and then sat down next to him with my boots as close to the rocks as possible. Jim laid his arm around me and pulled me closer to his uninjured side. Even though he was probably almost as cold as I was, he made me feel warmer, and I leaned my head on his shoulder, rubbing my hands together.

"How's the rib?"

"Still there. But not as painful. Thank you." He kissed the top of my head.

"I can't believe our stupid shuttlepod broke down just a few damn hours before your birthday," I muttered. "On a class P planet."

"That's my birthday for you, it's jinxed." Jim chuckled and winced in pain.

I blew him a raspberry. "It's not jinxed, dumbass. But I had the chef prepare a birthday dinner for when we got back. I bet Bones and Spock are enjoying it instead right now. And gloating."

"You had him prepare for the entire crew? Were you going to throw me a surprise party? You know how I feel about those."

"No. Just you and me. You said we were going to be off duty when we got back and I wanted to pretend to have a normal birthday for you. Shit just seemed to happen every year before this, something always came up. I was so sure this year would be quiet and uneventful."

"Told you it was jinxed. It could have been worse, though. There could have been drakoulias here."

I blew him a raspberry again before silence fell over us. The day was catching up to me, and I felt drowsy. My head dropped down and I started, making Jim chuckle and wince in pain again. But he got up and pulled out the two thermal blankets we had in the backpack and held one out to me.

"Get some rest. I'll keep watch, just in case."

"It's uninhabited. No life forms. It would be safe for you to rest too. And it looks like you need another hypospray," I protested, but I was already settling down on the cold ground and pulling the blanket over me.

Jim moved the distress beacon closer, wrapped the second blanket around himself like a cape, sat down next to the beacon and laid his communicator on the ground. Then he spread his legs, waving me over. I crawled over and settled between his them, using his thigh as a pillow and draped the blanket over myself and his legs. "Just in case. And in case Enterprise hails us. And it feels like I'm better off sitting. Sleep, love. I'll wake you if I need to rest too."

Feeling the heat from Jim creep into me and his fingers gently combing through my hair, I fell asleep quickly. But it was a restless sleep and I woke up what felt like every other minute, feeling colder and colder every time. At one point, I felt Jim shivering slightly. I looked up and saw his head had fallen back to the cave wall, eyes closed and mouth open.

I sat up carefully, trying not to wake him and reached for my phaser to stun the rocks again. Jim blue eyes were open a fraction when I turned back to him. "You're shivering and your lips are turning blue. Please take another hypospray and lie down with me," I ordered.

He didn't even hesitate. He bent his head back and let me press the pain reliever to his neck and then we laid on top of my blanket and wrapped our limbs around each other, and I pulled his blanket tight around us.

"You sleep now, and I'll stay awake."

Again, he didn't even hesitate. He pressed a pair of ice-cold lips to mine, then nuzzled into my neck.

I don't how long I managed to stay awake for, or how long I had been asleep when a sound invaded my consciousness and pulled me back to the cave. Footsteps were coming closer. I was distracted for a fraction of a second of Jim shivering and breathing raggedly next to me, but the echoing sound of a tumbling rock made me grab the phaser lying near my head and hold it towards the mouth of the cave, desperately whispering for Jim to wake up.

Whoever or whatever was coming, came with bright lights that blinded me. "Who's there?" I called out.

"No need to point your phaser at us, Lieutenant."

"Sulu?"

"To the rescue!"

The light was close enough now that I could see Spock, Sulu and Bones. The latter took in the scene in front of him for a second, then strode over with the medical tricorder already out. "Figures that the two of you managed to crash-land on a deserted planet and almost freeze to death while just flying home from a damn conference."

I untangled myself from Jim's trembling arms, and that finally made him open his eyes. "Check him first," I said to the doctor. "Please."

Sulu and Spock came over and helped Jim sit up. Though he was awake, he didn't seem very conscious of what was happening around him and he looked like he was too cold to notice the broken rib. Bones ran the tricorder up and down his body, a frown on his face. I knelt next to them, too worried about how much he was shivering and how blue his lips were.

"His temperature is at 30 Celsius. And he's got a number of bruises and a broken rib and frostbites. We need to get him to sickbay immediately."

Spock whipped out his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise."

"Did you find them?" Uhura's voice came at the other end.

"Yes. Are Commander Scott able to get a transporter lock yet?"

"Negative," Scotty said. "Ye have to get them outta that cave."

"You're not hypothermic yet," Bones suddenly said. I hadn't even noticed that he had scanned me, being too worried about Jim. "That cut on your forehead needs tending too, you didn't do a good job sealing it up, and there's a number of bruises and frostbites on you too. But nothing urgent."

"Can Captain Kirk be moved?" Spock asked.

"Carefully, yes," Bones replied. The two of them got on either side of the captain and pulled him to his feet, and laid his arms over their shoulders. I helped Sulu pack up our stuff and quickly caught up with the trio slowly making their way towards the howling wind. Jim's head was lolling, he had clearly lost consciousness again. Fear gripped at my heart and the walk out of the cave seemed to take fifty times as long as when Jim and I walked inside.

Finally, Spock and Bones stopped. "Spock to Enterprise. Five to beam up directly to sickbay."

As soon as the howling, bitingly cold wind was replaced by warmth and a sterile smell, several things happened at once. Bones began barking out orders while getting Jim onto a biobed. Sulu took the distress beacon from me and he and Spock hurried out of the room. Nurses ran around with blankets and trays of vials and equipment. One of them herded me onto a biobed too far from Jim, and Bones drew the curtains around his bed so I couldn't even see what was going on. I moved to walk over there, but the nurse pushed on my shoulder and forced me down and put a blanket over me.

"Jim," I tried.

"The captain is being treated," the nurse said. "And you need to get your temperature up."

I glared up at him, but he ignored it. I knew he was right. So, I stopped fighting and tried to relax onto the bed while Doctor M'Benga came over and began scanning me with various devices. He and the nurse exchanged a few words I didn't catch, and then M'Benga began retreating the cut on my forehead and the nurse gave me a hypospray, and that was the last thing I remembered.

A few days later, I came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and feeling clean for the first time since before Jim and I left for the conference, it had taken several sonic showers. I had been discharged from Doctor M'Benga's care after just a couple of hours, the cut on my forehead healed properly, frostbites treated and most bruises gone. But Bones kept Jim for two whole days. But then he was finally let out, given a clean bill of health, and under strict orders to take a couple of days off. Which, I figured, is how he had time to set this up.

There, on the table, was the birthday dinner I had asked the chef to make for us.

"Jim? What is this?"

He stood next to the table, looking proud of himself. "I guess my birthday is kind of over, but you seemed disappointed it didn't go the way you had planned. And it sounded really good to have a quiet birthday dinner with just the two of us. So... I did this." His blue eyes were bright and his smile even brighter.

I strode over and wrapped my arms around his neck, looking up into his happy face. "You really are something, James Tiberius. I love you."

"I love you too." He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss, lips so warm and soft.

"And happy belated, handsome. Let me go change and we can eat."

"Do you have to? It'll just take me longer to unwrap you later."

I slipped out of his grasp and hurried away to the bedroom area. "You gotta work for it, Captain," I looked back over my shoulder and winked at him.

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