#January REDUX

[letsplayballet]

sometimes you get so frustrated with a boss fight that you cut your hair about it and that's fine

[nieded]

#RAINBOWROAD for Rainbow Railroad Charity Drive Redux Pre-Orders are open!

I am so excited to announce that I am taking preorders for copies of the entire #RAINBOWROAD trilogy starting today! Preorders will be open starting today, February 14th (happy Valentine's!) to March 13th. It will close at 11:59 MST.

Please reblog so we can spread the news!!!!

>>PRE-ORDER HERE<<

This past summer, I did a print run of the first part of the series, Sit Tight, Take Hold and printed 94 copies for charity. Many readers asked for books 2 & 3, and I had many others express interest in a 3-part bundle who missed the first run. I've spent November, December, and January prepping the next parts for print, and I'm so excited to share them with you.

So, what is included?

Option for a 3-book bundle including:

Book 1: Sit Tight Take Hold 424 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x.93. Weight ~2 lbs Art by Blairamok (See cover art above)

Book 2: How do you solve a problem like Ezira?, Accept a Little Spin, and Oh, there's a long way to go 408 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x.93. Weight ~2 lbs Art by DustandHalos (cover art below)

Book 3: Fools Rush In and bonus content, 0-60 in 3.5 468 pages on matte 80lb text paper, color printing throughout. Cover has matte lamination in color. Dimensions of the book are 6x9x1.06. Weight ~2lbs Art by Pyracantha (cover art below)

PDF copies of all three parts

Option for a 2-book bundle including only Parts 2 & 3 + PDF copies. This is an option for people who already own the first book.

Limited option for Part 1 discounted damaged books (15 available). This does not include PDFs. These books have cosmetic damage to the covers from shipping. Damage does no affect the print quality of the text.

Limited postcards that were extras from the first run (only 8 available)

Remaining Corvette Crowley posters, including A/B grade options, 12x18".

$20 PDFs of all stories that will include all the formatting of the print run and cover art! (Screenshots from the PDF proofs below)

Where are the proceeds going?

Rainbow Railroad is a North American-based organization that works globally to ensure safety and asylum to LGBTQIA+ individuals. This is the same charity we donated to last time, and it was a resounding success. Last time, we were able to fundraise $1,600!

Continued FAQ below:

How much does shipping cost?

For US residents, bundles will cost a flat fee of $10. They will ship via media mail through USPS.

For anyone outside of the US, shipping has been estimated through the cheapest carrier, either USPS or UPS minus $10. Unfortunately, I cannot control the cost of shipping, and I know that it is extraordinarily high. The bundles will weigh anywhere between 4-6+ lbs, which is expensive to ship.

Wait, I'm from the US. Why am I paying more for Media Mail?

While Media Mail typically would cost $4-6, the increased price is to offset international orders, whose shipping will cost anywhere from $20-60 with the discount. I hope you understand. I want to make this as accessible as I can without personally eating any costs. I am not making any profit off of this project.

When do orders ship?

Once pre-orders close on 3/13, I will order the books. There is typically a 2-4 week turn around for them to be printed and delivered to me. I then have to package and ship everything from my house. I hope to have everything shipped 1 month after pre-orders close, but I am only human.

US mail should take 2-8 days. International orders can take anywhere from 2-4 weeks, so please be patient.

If you are only ordering a damaged copy or postcards, both of which have already been printed, I will ship those out sooner.

When do I get my PDFs?

The PDFs and book proofs are the same, and they are 90% done. PDFs will be delivered via email by me once pre-orders close. I am still doing small changes and edits to make sure they are perfect!

If I order a bundle, do I also need to order PDFs if I want digital copies?

NO! PDFs are included with the bundles and only the bundles. You will not have access to them immediately, only once pre-orders close and I email them to you! Like I said, they are 90% finished, and I am stilling making small adjustments. (Kerning, I loathe you!)

What percent of proceeds are going to Rainbow Railroad?

100%! This excludes the cost of printing and shipping. For reference, the first print run cost $1,254 for the books alone, not including shipping and packaging supplies. Anything remaining goes directly to charity. I am not keeping any costs for labor or making any profit on this.

Wait, there's bonus content?

Remember when I said I was done after the trilogy? Well, @tut557 popped into the Discord server and said, 'Hey, what if they played Mario Kart...' This spiraled into a long conversation about all the different media promos they might do, and then I spent this past November writing another 50k of the #RAINBOWROAD universe for NaNoWriMo. This is also available on AO3, and I will be posting weekly while preorders are open. You can find it here.

[bigweekon]

It's Big Week on Tumblr for the week of January 30, 2023!

In this episode, Cates and Allegra chat about this week's Tumblr trends: Tumblr Sexyman Redux, Maia Arson Crimew, & Teen Wolf!

Congratulations to Cecil Palmer for sweeping the sexyman bracket 🥳

You can subscribe to Big Week On Tumblr on Spotify, Apple, or Pocket Casts!

[darkelfguy]

The Morrowind Modding Community began 2024 with a bang, releasing over 140 new Morrowind mods in January alone, covering everything from stunning new city overhauls to exciting new quests and adventures, to immersive graphical additions and more!

Besides major new mod releases, the community also released hundreds of new mod updates for a ton of big name mods, and today we'll be covering not just the 5 best mods of January 2024, but we'll also be highlighting some of the more notable major updates released by the community!

After more than 20 years, the Morrowind Modding Community is still going strong, and this episode marks the return of our Mod of the Month series, revamped to better fit the bigger, more active modding community that surrounds this amazing game!

Download Links:

Vivec - City of Swords By Tyrant

Dagoth Ur Fleshed Out By Orion

Gares Last Gasp By Von Djangos

Immersive Grotto Entrances By Hurdrax Custos

A Familiar Song By Superduple

Morrowind Quests Redux By Kildozery

Major Mod Updates:

Caldera Priory and the Depths of Blood and Bone By Seelof and his Minions

The Stone Halls of Solstheim - Reforged By Naufragous77

The Guar Whisperer By Merlord

More QuickLoot By Herbert100

Repopulated Waters - Rowing NPCs By GrumblingVomit

Dallara Imperial Forts By Dallara1000

Amazing Balmora Expansion By Eluwil

Roaring Arena - Betting and Bloodletting By Team VonVom

Windhelm - City of the Kings By Superliuk

Blademeister By Superduple

Magical Missions Recharged By Von Djangos

Mods Featured in the Introduction:

BCOM Plus - Ald'Ruhn Expansion By Jayber - RandomPal - Zzarcon - EndoranWest

SME - Useful Widgets By Always Hungry

Divine Armory By Yeest McFouster

Maar Gan - Town of Pilgrimage By RandomPal

Loot Detector - MWSE By Gerotaritor

Of Gems and Geodes an Ald Rhun Collector By Lord Zarcon

Map Icons - MWSE By Spammer

Note: Cinematic Video Footage Created Using the CinemaCam mod by Rytelier.

This video was recorded with the MMS Graphics Mod List.

[trek-tracks]

De Day Redux

So, was DeForest Kelley's 104rd birthday on Saturday (January 20, 2024). Unfortunately, I was incredibly busy this weekend, and couldn't get a screening to work for the day itself! However, today, Monday, January 22, 2024, I will be doing a belated De Day event.

As per tradition, I'm going to screen some of his work, including movies, TV eps, and probably some Trek. It'll be a wild grab bag, and I'll take requests. I'm going to start around 5pm ET on the trektracks kosmi channel.

Rules:

Be kind to others. I run a civil, loving screening room. Racism/homophobia/transphobia/antisemitism/Islamophobia etc. will not be tolerated.

To that end, please remember that De did a lot of westerns, and that these and other films of his era are a product of their time, and include, for example, depictions of Indigenous characters that we would now consider inappropriate (for good reason). The screening of an episode does not indicate my endorsement of its content or message.

I will attempt to include warnings at the start of each episode, but content may include dark themes, sexual content, violence, death, alcohol and drug use, etc. Please know yourself and your ability to handle these, and exit if anything makes you uncomfortable.

The tone is light and joyful. Loving snark and critique are welcome, but remember that people in the room may enjoy these films, and we're not ripping them apart angrily. We're celebrating De and his work.

While the tone of the discussion will probably be PG-13, this is primarily a by-adults, for-adults event. I am an adult. Please only attend if you are over 18.

I hope to see you there!

[todayonmoneyshot]

Me - (7k words deep into a Stan twins AU but falterin) okay but hear me out, Stan and Ford function ... Not well without each other

AU where Dipper and Mabel somehow get teleported back to the January of 1989 (before Stan gets summoned, before Ford summons Bill)

The Stan twins save each other much faster than they do in canon - all to get the kids home.

Redux of the story - 8hr (or 32 years later if you ask the Stans) Mabel and Dipper go to spend time with their grunks

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

January: Red Redux

Josie and the Pussycats/ Parker Posey as Fiona

Fiona's outfits are always eccentric, but this one is truly wacky. But then, really, how should one dress when announcing one's plans for world domination?

The material actually looks rather nice, with a subtle pattern. The single over-the-shoulder strap looks like it wandered over from a different garment entirely, though. And the floating feathers? ... I got nothin'.

[adultswim2021]

Aqua Teen Hunger Force #89: “Rabbot Redux” | February 8, 2010 - 12:00AM | S08E02

Happy Space Ghost day, everyone! 30 dang years with our great guy. Wow! Seems like as good a day as any to start this shit up again. To the small-yet-still-dwindling number of people who read my shit: Hi! Real life is having it’s way with me right now, so please know I’m instituting a hard-and-fast “will update when I feel like it” rule to this thing for the right-now. So, please don't expect this to be a nightly blog. It'll be more like a "nighty" blog, as in "nighty-night", because it will be angelically and perfectly asleep most of the time. Thank you. 

It’s Rabbot Redux: a fairly unnecessary explanation for what happened directly after the events of the live-action episode. It turns out the Aqua Teens drove their moving van two doors down, to the other house next to Carl’s. Not a lot happens; Neil unpacks while Rick and Vivian fight over which room is theirs. Shake immediately claims the bathroom, not realizing it’s a bathroom. Meatwad gets a luxurious room with a salad bar and a harem.

Eventually Rabbot (from before) shows up with a housewarming gift. He then crushes the Aqua Teens’ house, forcing them to go back to the old house. Schooly D shows up and sings a new theme song (which is also used over the opening sequence). This one calls back a lot of stuff from Rabbot, like Carl working out of the home, and “dancing is forbidden”.

This one isn’t especially groundbreaking, and it’s a little puzzling that they felt the need to write themselves out of that "hole". Normally they’d just ignore stuff like that and relish the show's lack of continuity. Not only did they air an episode between the two episodes (a Christmas special), but they also put it on DVD with multiple episodes between this and the Live-Action episode; I’m guessing in some production order or something. It's striking how little these guys care, sometimes. It's weird to see them dutifully tie up a thread.

This one is fairly funny, though. There’s nothing egregiously bad in it. The biggest smile I did was the part when Shake started berating Frylock about sucking his stuff. Shake is a nasty guy who says rude stuff :)

EPHEMERA CORNER

FOX on Adult Swim bump (January 11, 2010)

Hey, here's something fun and--what luck! I am telling you about it: At this time, Adult Swim was airing episodes of Family Guy shortly after they premiered on Fox, and they had a significant viewership on both channels. In the episode "Big Man on Hippocampus", they aired a fake Adult Swim bumper (intended to mess with Fox watchers) as they went to commercial, making a joke about confusing their viewers into which network they were watching. When the episode aired on Adult Swim, they followed it up with a Fox-style promo instead of their normal bumper. Fun fact: I once spoke to somebody who was writing on an Adult Swim show and they entertained the idea of doing a fake Adult Swim bumper, and asked me if any other shows had done that. I told them "even Family Guy has" because I happened to catch this bit. Took the wind out of those sails.

MAIL BAG

oh wow she's straight-up married to the mindless self indulgence guy. woof

LOL

Hello Mister Swim! What if I called you Mister Swim all the time, like you were Mr. Moviefone? Would that be a treat?

Yeah, it would be a nice treat. Thank you for being so nice to me.

[blueheavensims]

Upcoming events at Sims 2 Shenanigans!

Saturday, December 9th at 13:00 (GMT -6)- Sky’s the Limit (Redux)

Host: Ocelotekatl  Topic: Building gaming tables (and other objects with self-referencing BHAVs) Tools needed: SimPE Approximate time: 1 hour Suggested for: Intermediate. Some object-building experience is helpful.

A start-to-finish guide to building poker & gaming tables (or bathroom stalls, elevators, or other objects with self-referencing BHAVs)

Saturday, January 6th at 13:00 (GMT -6)- Promises Kept (Part 1)

Host: Ocelotekatl  Topic: Converting XNALara objects Tools needed: XPS, SimPE, Body Shop Approximate time: 1 hour Suggested for: Intermediate. Some object-building/Body Shop experience is helpful.

Two unrelated workshops that I've been promising for a while now. The first workshop is about converting XNALara models into Sims 2 objects and accessories. Saturday, January 20th at 13:00 (GMT -6)- Promises Kept (Part 2)

Host: Ocelotekatl  Topic: Converting accessories to BV Jewelry Tools needed: SimPE Approximate time: 1 hour or less Suggested for: Beginners. The techniques in this workshop are fun and easy!

Two unrelated workshops that I've been promising for a while now. The second workshop converting accessories to BV jewelry.

To RSVP or check your local time, check the event thingy at the top of the Discord.

If you haven’t joined yet, why aren’t you a member of the most amazing creator’s Discord ever? To join, click here: https://discord.gg/tkNzjgsSTS

[lesbiannova]

KotOR 2: Juhani Cameo Add-on for Alternate Revan Romances REDUX Mod

In Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords, players are given options to set Revan's gender and alignment during the first conversation with Atton on Peragus. However, the game always assumes a male Revan is romantically involved with Bastila, while female Revan is romantically involved with Carth.

In March 2015, felixfelicitas (also known as @t3m4 on Tumblr) released his Alternate Revan Romances mod to remedy that problem. His mod allowed players to set Revan's love interest(s), or lack thereof, and the rest of the game will have different variations of dialogue to reflect that change. Most notably, Bastila can be chosen as female Revan's love interest, and Carth can be chosen as male Revan's love interest. In January 2017, I had updated and released a REDUX version with felixfelicitas' mod.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that Juhani gets literally zero content in the entire KotOR 2 even in cut content, both the original and my REDUX version were unable to make Juhani appear in KotOR 2 even if she is chosen as Revan's love interest. However, this is finally changed.

At long last, nearly 8 years after the release of the original Alternate Revan Romances mod, and 6 years after the release of my REDUX version, Juhani Cameo add-on is finally a reality. With this add-on, Juhani will now appear in KotOR 2 if she is (female) Revan's love interest, with fully-voiced new dialogue thanks to xVASynth, remedying the complete erasure of Juhani in KotOR 2 once and for all!

Visit the pages below for download links to the Alternate Revan Romances REDUX mod and more details and information about this mod.

MOD PAGE & DOWNLOAD LINKS:

Deadly Stream

KotOR 2 Nexus Mods

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chp. 13: The Children of Tarsus Redux

Hello everyone!! I hope you're having a happy Threshold Day!! Here is the big ole honkin monster of an installment for Regulatory Relations that has taken over my whole brain.

social media dry january was so much easier last year when i wasn't actively in a fandom. i just want to look at star trek memes so badly. see you all in two days!!!

Some things:

thank you so so so so much for reading. the response to this fic has been so joyful and supportive.

this story has gotten deeper and darker than originally planned, so I've officially changed the rating from "archive warnings not needed" to "graphic depictions of violence".

on that note: this is The Tarsus Chapter. content warnings for descriptions of violence, starvation, and death.

i wrote a song about Kirk and Kodos post-Tarsus :) if you're into that sort of thing I've reblogged it to this blog and the link is available here.

☆☆☆

At first, everything was dark. His room, the bed beneath him, even Spock’s hand in his--- all of it had vanished, replaced by the warm black nothing. He could not feel his body. He was not sure if he had one, here. But then he heard his name. 

Jim? 

Hello, Kirk said, or thought, and he sensed something that felt like Spock out in the darkness. It felt like his dry humor, his curiosity, the fierce energy of him coiled into waiting stillness. Can you hear me? 

Yes, Spock said, and he sounded--- felt--- closer now. Are you in discomfort? 

No, Kirk said, after a moment. But it doesn’t feel like the other times we’ve melded. 

I guided your mind through what was necessary in previous circumstances. Here I have created space for you instead. Kirk felt the gesture of Spock’s mind, sweeping out around them. What you show me, I will see. 

Cautiously, he thought of somewhere to start. Kirk cringed in anticipation of the nausea, the choking panic, but it did not arrive. He was uncomfortable, unhappy, flayed out and vulnerable, but he could physically continue. The Iowa farmhouse appeared, rippling out in vibrant color from the point that he thought he inhabited in this strange in-between space. The faded white wood paneling, the wide porch with the swing and its rusty chains, the windbreak row of trees, and the cornfield, stretching out as far as Spock’s mind allowed, were replicated as faithfully as if they were physically there. And then they were; Spock materialized at his side as his own body appeared beneath him.  

Spock looked around. Is this where you were raised?

Yes, Kirk said, and as they watched, a child with sandy brown hair flung open the screen door, flounced down the stairs, and vanished into the cornfield. An older boy came out more slowly, accompanied by an adult woman with the same sandy hair. They talked on the porch, staring in the direction that the younger one had gone. 

That was me, he said quietly. This is the beginning, I suppose. He had laid out in the cornfield for hours, watching the clouds pass through the sky as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes into the dirt beneath him. Kirk closed his eyes and pushed the memory forward, and when he opened his eyes again the sky had darkened and Jimmy was trudging out of the cornfield back to the farmhouse. He wiped the back of his nose with his forearm and let the screen door swing shut gracelessly behind him. 

Akin to the strange logic of dreams, Kirk and Spock stood in the kitchen of the farmhouse without having moved. Jimmy sat at the wooden table, arms crossed protectively across his chest, as Winona Kirk pulled brochures out of a Starfleet-issue duffel bag. 

“I don’t want to go to Mars,” Jimmy said. 

“You don’t have to,” Winona soothed. 

“I want to go with you and Dad.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Winona said. “For this posting, that’s just not an option.” Jimmy crossed his arms more tightly across his chest. 

“Can’t I stay here?” 

“Not by yourself.” Winona found the brochure that she had been looking for, the glossy paper reflecting the warm light and fluttering with the movement of the ceiling fan, and pulled the chair out next to Jimmy. “Look at this one,” she said quietly, and placed the brochure on the table in front of him. He turned away, staring out the window over the sink. “It’s not like Sam’s school. It’s all hands-on, all learning by doing. You’d get to be on a farm, just like here, with other kids. Dad and I could come visit you when we get leave.” Jimmy kept his gaze locked on the window, and Winona stood after another silent minute. She kissed him on the forehead and exited. When she was gone, Jimmy turned to the brochure. He frowned at it, but he picked it up and opened it.

Kirk knew what came next. He had been enchanted against his will by the promise of the experiential Farm School, and it would become his home for two beautiful years. 

I wish I could just show you the good things, Kirk said. There were good things, too. 

I believe you, captain, Spock said. Show me whatever you need.

Kirk crossed to the table where Jimmy--- his younger self, and it was hard to remember that he had ever been so young--- sat, flipping through the brochure. He looked down at the shiny pictures. They didn’t do it justice. I just need--- I need you to see what I saw. I think that’s what all this is about. Spock crossed to him, standing next to him, and even in the meldspace Kirk felt the comfort of his presence.

Kirk laced his fingers through Spock’s and remembered. 

☆☆☆

Tarsus IV was the fourth planet in a small system in the middle of nowhere, Beta quadrant. It was Class M, with mostly mild seasons, and by the time Jimmy arrived, it was populated with eight thousand others, entirely human. It was not a highly developed colony; humans had only been there for twenty years, and it was technologically delayed--- no replicators, no transporters, only one government-owned high-speed comms relay to the rest of the Federation. Those who lived there were agriculturalists; scientists and farmers looking to conduct their research or make a living selling crops to the traders who passed through on their way to the further-flung starbases. After Jimmy had set his narrow shoulders, gritted his teeth, and taken the brochure upstairs to his parents, they had bought him a physical copy of a traveler’s guide to Tarsus IV. He read it back to front, over and over, until the spine crumbled in his hands and they replaced it with a digital copy on his padd. Six months after he had stormed from the kitchen and into the cornfield, the shuttle containing a newly twelve years old Jimmy Kirk touched down on Tarsus. He was met at the shuttle pad by two women in their twenties. Their names were Madeleine and Natalya, and, as Starfleet Academy graduates who had elected to take elementary teaching posts instead of a commission on a ship, they were impossibly cool and rebellious to a child whose parents rarely spent more than eight months anywhere. They took him to Farm School, where he was given three rough-spun jumpsuits to wear on outside days and a tour of the grounds. There were fields, a big house that doubled as a cafeteria and dormitory, a school building with classrooms and a gymnasium, and a contingent of laboratories built for little scientists with child-sized hands. 

“Do you know what you might want to study?” Natalya was tall, blonde, and strong, and she and Madeleine both had been science track at the Academy. She led Jimmy through the different buildings, wandered through a wheat field with him, and then took him to the highest point on the campus so he could look out and see the sprawl of Farm School and the town beyond.

“Everything,” Jimmy said. For the first time in his life, Jimmy was judged by his own actions and interests and not by the reputations of his family. He could raise his hand in class and be called on by a teacher who had never taught his brother. He could take extracurriculars in engineering and make mistakes without being asked, “Didn’t your mom explain this to you?” He could shadow his tutors and tell them that he wanted to be a scientist without any of them assuming that he would be a captain, like his dad. For almost two years, he learned and grew and made friends with kids who cared more about his first name than his last. 

For almost two years, he was happy.

Jimmy’s second summer on Tarsus IV was the driest on record. The swimming hole where he and a few of his friends spent most afternoons after their classes were over had shrunk considerably since the spring. The sudden thunderstorms that he had grown accustomed to the previous year were few and far between. 

In late August, when they were on a break from their classes, Jimmy snuck into the patch of field that they had given him for his summer project to check on his crops: a small growth, only a few square yards, of yellow corn. He had hoped to have enough to make cornbread for his classmates once it had all reached peak sweetness. He walked slowly though the fields, brushing his palms carelessly over the purple amaranth that was his friend Laika’s project, one eye on keeping his feet in the walkways and one eye on the clouds above him. The formerly teal-blue sky had darkened considerably, and though he didn’t mind the rain, the teachers got nervous when any of them were out in a storm. The soil of Tarsus had a considerably higher metallic content than Earth, and they weren’t keen on testing the survival rate of lightning strikes on the children in their care. He walked faster. 

His corn had grown to the right height, but as he brushed his hands against the stalks, they bent in a way that was unfamiliar. He frowned. He had spent the first twelve years of his life running through farm fields; he had long understood the way that the laws of physics exerted themselves on the stalks of late-summer corn. The stalks moved ponderously, with less structural resilience than he was used to. The ears swung heavily and drooped down more than he had expected. Jimmy reached out and grabbed one, thinking to pull it off the stalk and peel back the silk to peer inside, but he froze when it landed in his palm. Rather than the bumpy firmness of corn, it felt as though there was goo trapped inside the shell. He hefted the mushy ear in one hand and poked at it with a finger. His finger left an indent, meeting virtually none of the expected resistance. A single drop of a deep, metallic, mercurial blue liquid oozed out of the top and dropped to the soil below. He dropped the ear, and it hung morosely from the stalk, dripping blue ooze onto the dirt. 

Jimmy turned and ran for the safety of the main house as the sky broke open above him. By the time he got inside, Natalya was standing in the foyer with a towel for him. 

“My corn melted,” he said, confused, dripping rain onto the pale wooden floor.

“We can check it out when the storm is over,” she said, scrubbing his drenched hair with the towel. But it was movie night, and one of the littlest kids got overtired and set off a giggling fit that derailed everyone’s attention, and by the time Jimmy laid down in his bunk bed he had forgotten about the corn entirely.

Ten days later, during their first class after the break, Madeleine took them outside to check on their summer projects. Jimmy had fallen to the back of the group, play-fighting with Tommy, when they heard a dismayed scream from the front. 

Laika wailed, “What happened?” She knelt in what remained of her amaranth. The proud purple bushels had veered decidedly towards blue and lay in mushy puddles, the flower heads shedding off the stalk in her hands.

“Laika, don’t touch that, get out of the mess,” Madeleine said, and stepped away from the group to flip her comm open. She said something quietly into it, out of Jimmy’s hearing, but her face, normally split by her wide smile, was pinched with concern. Laika stood, wiping the remnants of her summer project off her hands and the knees of her jumpsuit, and frustrated tears glinted in her eyes. 

“My corn,” Jimmy realized, remembering, and took off running. He heard Madeleine shout behind him, but he couldn’t hear what she said and therefore didn’t have to listen. He skidded to a halt in the dirt after a few more seconds anyway, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The stalks still stood, half-bent, and the ears were still attached, in the loosest sense of the word. But whatever might have been growing inside had melted out, dripping down into the soil into noxious blue puddles. 

Madeleine appeared over his shoulder and gaped at the oil spill that had been his summer project. “Let’s go, Jimmy,” she said, and steered him away, back towards the main house. They passed Natalya, standing with their biology teacher, Mr. Park, and the chemistry teacher, Mr. Lopez, talking next to the remains of the amaranth. Madeleine took them all inside and they played dodgeball in the gym until they were released for the afternoon. After dinner, Jimmy and some of the older kids played cards in the dorm until Madeleine called for lights out, and even Laika was pulled out of her mournful shell to play with them by the end of the night. 

That was the last normal day. 

One of the best parts of Farm School had been the food. There were no replicators on Tarsus, and Jimmy didn’t like the fake chemical aftertaste of most replicated food anyway. They bought food from the town and the other farmers, and got shipments from the traders that stopped through every month or so, but the majority of what they ate came from the farm itself. Over the next two weeks, the farm-grown food stopped appearing at mealtimes. Halfway through September, Natalya pulled all of the older children, thirty or so out of the one hundred at the school, aside before dinner. 

“I think we all know that it was a very dry summer,” she said, and one of the boys started sniffling immediately in the back of the classroom. They had known that something was wrong after all their summer projects had died horribly, but Madeleine still showed them old Earth movies when they scored well on math tests and Natalya had taught the more flexible kids some of her gymnastics moves. The school schedule had marched on, and so, they had reasoned, things couldn’t have been too bad. But now Madeleine was here, her wide smile replaced by an unfamiliar strict line, talking to them without the littles present. It became impossible to ignore the changes that they had silently agreed not to discuss.

“Please, do not worry. We will take care of you. We’ve already talked to the governor, and help is coming, but until it arrives things are going to have to be a little different.” 

The older kids voted to join the teachers in hiding the worst of the situation from the littles, and though it was not mandatory they joined the teachers in accepting limited rations to give the littles the last of the fresh produce. Jimmy sent a holo of his lab station to Sam with the caption, “still cooler than math school!!” and a message to his parents that said, “i miss you.” Over the slow civilian comms relay that the school had, neither of his messages would be received for a month at least. By then, Madeleine had said, Starfleet or one of the trade ships would have arrived and things would be back to normal. But it made him feel better to know that his messages were out in space, soaring from beacon to beacon towards his family. 

“Summons from the governor,” Madeleine said cheerfully when she woke up the boys in Jimmy’s dorm room on a morning in late September. “Personalized invitations, too! Jimmy, your parents aren’t in the quadrant now, are they?” 

Jimmy yawned, stretching, the morning sun warming the room through the white linen curtains. “Nope,” he said, half-asleep. “They’re still in Delta for a while, I think.” 

Madeleine hummed, but she tapped something on her padd. “You and Tommy are coming with me and Natalya today.” Tommy hung his head down from his place on the top bunk. 

“Me, too?” 

Madeleine ruffled his hair, fluffy with gravity. “Better dress nicely. No holes in your jeans.” 

“But they’re cool!” 

“You say that now,” Madeleine said. “And in thirty years you’ll look back at holos of yourself and say, why was my clothing falling apart all the time?” She chucked him on the back of the head gently and left them to get ready. They rose, and dressed, and breakfast was sparse but Natalya snuck them each a cup of coffee and it helped to cut the hunger. 

Farm School was on the side of a mountain, set above the main town, and its farmland was surrounded by forest. Someday, Jimmy thought, more people would live here, and there would be less forest, and Tarsus would feel less isolated from the galaxy as a whole. But he was glad to live here now, because Mr. Lopez sometimes led them on hikes deep into the woods to identify each of the birds by their song, and it was easy to forget that there was anyone else in the universe at all. Madeleine and Natalya led their parade of fifty down the hill, down the packed dirt road from Farm School that would meet the paved road that led into town. It was a familiar road; when there were holidays, or after the harvests, the governor’s office would put on festivals and the students would run down the road in packs of four and five to spend their credits on sweets and new books and clothing. The littles skipped between them, holding hands, but Jimmy and the other older kids didn’t want to waste their energy, not when they’d have to walk back up the hill in the autumn sun later. 

They followed Natalya and Madeleine to the town hall. There was an auditorium there, in a drafty old hall towards the back of the brick building, where sometimes the local players would put on shows or traveling troupes would stage concerts. Today it would be nearly at capacity--- it sat almost five thousand people, and it was over half-full already. Madeleine narrowed her eyes at the presence of the governor’s security force, wearing their forest green uniforms, lining the walls and standing at the entrances, but she led them into a few rows near the back of the hall where they could all sit together. She and Natalya talked quietly with their heads close together while Laika pulled a deck of cards from her back pocket and dealt Jimmy and Tommy into a game of ratscrew. One of the littles, Kevin, stood over Tommy’s shoulder and asked too many questions, and two others, Ellie and Mira, slid themselves into Laika’s lap when it became apparent that Madeleine and Natalya would not be distracted from their conversation by their pleas for attention. The game devolved quickly from there, but the littles could be convinced to play Go Fish instead of the faster slapping game as long as the older kids pretended that it was cool. The other kids had distracted themselves similarly; a padd with books, a holofilm between two girls sharing a set of headphones, one of the younger kids with his ever-present sketchbook. The auditorium filled up around them, until the enormous wooden doors banged shut and Madeleine pulled them all to their feet to pay attention. The crowd fell silent. 

A small door to the right of the stage opened, and the governor stepped out, flanked on either side by his green-shirted guards. Jimmy had seen him before, at the winter festival and harvest celebrations. He had wavy silver hair, and uncannily light brown eyes that Jimmy could see flashing in the stage lights even from where he stood in the back. Governor Kodos climbed the stairs to the waiting podium, and with a nod to someone offstage a microphone buzzed mechanically to life. 

“Good morning,” he said, and gazed solemnly at them. “I appreciate every one of you taking the time to join us here today. It was short notice, but the community we’ve built here never shies away from pulling together for each other, does it?” Madeleine and Natalya exchanged glances over the heads of the kids lined between them. Madeleine rolled her eyes. Kodos continued, but Jimmy had a hard time focusing on his words. The auditorium was hot with the trapped body heat of four thousand others, and he wished that they had all sat before Kodos started talking. His attention drifted.

“...grateful for the sacrifices you have made thus far, and grateful for all those to come,” Kodos said. Madeleine’s head snapped up, and her eyes met Natalya’s. Jimmy saw, in the laser-focused line between them, that they had heard something that he had not, and the skin on the back of his neck crawled. Around them, the quiet listening stillness of the crowd shivered into an animal intensity, a predatory waiting. Natalya glanced around, and a muscle twitched in her jaw. She and Madeleine passed something invisibly, silently, through the air between them.

In the space between one breath and the next Jimmy watched as his teachers shed their masks of civility to reveal iron ferocity beneath. They might have been science track at the Academy, but they were still soldiers. The crowd’s discontented energy began to boil over. Natalya grabbed one of the littlest kids, hefted her into her arms, and marched straight at the nearest guard, standing in front of an exit. Madeleine swept backwards as she shoved Jimmy towards Natalya and the door. 

“Start walking,” she hissed. “Get the littles, get to the exit, and get out!” Jimmy turned, on autopilot, and shoved at Tommy’s shoulder. Madeleine doubled back to push the second row of students towards the door, putting herself between them and the guards lining the back wall.

“Move,” he whispered to Tommy, and they shuffled towards Natalya and the guard. 

“She had an accident,” Natalya said, smiling. “Excuse us. I need to change her before it starts to stink.” The little girl in her arms hid her face in her neck under the scrutiny of the guard. Their line bunched behind Natalya as the crowd behind them started to yell out. 

“Quiet!” Kodos’s voice boomed out through the auditorium, and for a moment everything went perfectly still. “I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, governor of Tarsus IV.” There was one heartbeat of pure silence.

A phaser whined and discharged on the other side of the room. Someone screamed. Then five, seven, twelve other phasers fired. Bodies dropped to the ground. The crowd surged forward, out, away from the guards or towards them, yelling and crying out. Natalya kicked her guard in the knee, grabbed for his phaser as he fell, and shot him point-blank. Even as two other guards from the back of the auditorium ran towards her, she shoved the auditorium door open, revealing the cement hallway beyond. 

“Go!” Natalya roared in pain as she staggered forward, a phaser burn eating through the shoulder of her jacket and revealing the muscle fiber beneath her scorched skin. She shoved the little girl in her arms at one of the older kids pushing by and turned, raising her phaser. As Jimmy passed through the doorway, running after Tommy, his heart in his throat and the cacophony of phaser fire filling his ears, he turned back--- to look for other kids left behind, or to look for Madeleine and Natalya, he wasn’t sure. He saw the bodies of his classmates, unlucky enough to have been in the last row and in the direct line of fire of the guards lining the back of the hall, curled together on the floor by their seats. Madeleine was sprawled over them, covering them, unmoving. There were piles of people, twisted together in awful ways, in front of the guards still holding phasers. And at the head of it all, Kodos onstage, hands clasped together, watching over the scene with a terrible calm. 

The last time he saw Natalya, she stood in the open doorway between her fleeing students and the advancing guards with a half-charged phaser in her hand, blood dripping down her useless arm from the hole in her shoulder. 

She screamed, “Close the door!” as she fired at one of the guards. Jimmy grabbed the door and slammed it shut, and he felt the reverberation of impact as something--- phaser discharge or Natalya or both--- hit it from the other side. He backed away, watching the door, but Natalya held the line. The door didn’t open. He turned and sprinted in the direction that Tommy and the others had gone as muffled screams faded behind him. 

The backstreet behind the town hall was bizarrely, unsettlingly quiet. Natalya was gone. Madeleine was gone. Half of the students that they had come down with, maybe more, had been lost to the chaos in the auditorium. As Jimmy pulled the last door shut behind him, he saw Laika’s little gasp of relief. There was a question in her eyes, but he shook his head. There would not be anyone coming out behind him. They were on their own. Jimmy wound through the crowd to stand with her and Tommy, brushing his hand over the head or shoulder of a sniffling little as he passed through them. 

“We can’t stay here,” Laika whispered, and she glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Where…?” 

“We have to get out of the town,” Tommy whispered back. Jimmy stared at the plain white door that separated them from the slaughter in the theatre. He saw Madeleine sprawled protectively, uselessly, over the bodies of his classmates, Natalya’s broad shoulders filling the last doorway like she could protect them all. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Inside his head, he was screaming and screaming and screaming, but it didn’t come out. He felt his soul splitting into two. One part of him shrieked and beat his hands bloody against the white door. The other part was as cool as porcelain, utterly disconnected from everything he had seen, unfeeling but for the desire to stay alive, to keep the last of his friends alive. 

“We’ll go through the woods,” he said. Laika and Tommy looked at him, but he couldn’t meet their eyes. The white door burned in his vision. “We probably know the forest around Farm School better than anyone else. If we get into the trees we at least won’t be seen. Then we can go home and find Mr. Park and he’ll know what to do.” He finally looked at his friends, and when he met their eyes, they nodded. 

“Hold hands,” Laika said. She raised her voice slightly. “Ten and ups, grab a little. Buddy system.” Their little crowd--- only thirteen of them left, out of so many more--- shifted, reaching for each other. Jimmy felt like his bones were vibrating with the effort of keeping himself steady, but a tiny hand slid into his, grabbing onto three of his fingers with a chubby grip and anchoring him. He looked down. 

Kevin stared up at him with enormous brown eyes, and it was the first time that Jimmy had ever seen him at a loss for words. He squeezed, feeling the fragility of the younger boy’s hand, and settled his shoulders back, the way he’d seen his dad do, the way Sam did. If they could get back home, then Mr. Park or Mr. Lopez would be able to fix this--- whatever was still fixable. All they had to do was get home. They could do that. 

“Ready?” Jimmy’s mind shut everything else out--- his own screaming, the white door, Natalya’s bloody braid, the bone of her shoulder--- except for the only thought that mattered, singing through him in time with his heartbeat: get home, get home, get home. Laika nodded. Tommy nodded, gripping the hands of twin girls who had only arrived on Tarsus a few months prior. “Let’s go.” 

They ran down the back alley that stretched along the back length of the auditorium, and their footfalls echoed eerily in the silence after the deafening phaser fire. Laika, who had arrived on Tarsus before any of them and knew the town better, took the lead. They followed her sure, quick steps, and she zigged down another alley that would take them out of the town, away from the main road, into the forest. Jimmy could feel the effects of a month of rationing in the burn of his lungs and heart, the empty energy of his cup of coffee making him jittery on his feet. When Kevin lost his footing on the uneven stones, Jimmy hauled him up onto his back and stumbled on. 

It was as Laika led them onto the narrow plain between the edge of town and the start of the forest that they heard shouts behind them. Jimmy whipped his head back, searching for the source, and the flash of a hunter green uniform made his stomach leap into his throat. “No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered, in time with each footfall, and sprinted as hard as he could after Laika and the others. Kevin’s arms were clenched around his neck, and he could hear the younger boy’s muffled cries against his neck. He was almost across the plain, almost to the safety of the trees, when he heard the whine and discharge of phaser fire. He flinched to the side, but he was still on his feet. He was still running. Phasers discharged again and again, and the dry grass around him caught fire as he ran haphazardly towards the trees, trying to make them both a moving target.

Jimmy flung himself and Kevin behind the trunk of the closest tree. Pieces of bark exploded around him as phaser fire hit the other side. Jimmy slid Kevin from his back, pressing him to the ground. 

“Are you okay?” 

Kevin nodded, eyes wide and face completely blank. Jimmy thought that his own face might have looked the same. He wanted his parents--- but, no. If he thought about them, or the farmhouse in Iowa, he would never survive. He couldn’t think about anything but getting to Farm School with the littles and finding Mr. Park. Far-off phasers fired again and again, but his tree still stood. He looked up, and Laika was there, and Tommy and two other littles. 

“Where is everyone else?” Jimmy’s voice was hoarse, scratching against his dry throat. His lungs still burned from the exertion of their flight. Laika’s eyes flicked reluctantly over his shoulder, out to the bare stretch of earth behind him. He dared one look over his shoulder. There were a handful of the guards from the auditorium, their pursuers, pacing the outskirts of the town with rifles in hand, and a trail of seven little crumpled bodies between the last of the buildings and the first of the trees. 

Jimmy’s stomach heaved, but nothing came up. Stomach acid burned his throat. Tears stung his eyes. He heard a thin wailing, coming from Laika. He didn’t think she was aware that she was making noise. He closed his eyes and let the stony, unfeeling half of his brain take over. 

“Get home,” he said, and Laika stopped wailing with a hiccup. “All we have to do is get home. We can do that.” He took Kevin’s hand in his again and held Laika’s gaze, before holding Tommy’s. “We’ll get the littles home. Mr. Park will know what to do.” 

For a moment they stared at him, and Kevin sniffled. But then they nodded, and Laika turned to look at the sun before turning back to the woods. 

“You know the way best,” he said. Laika loved to go birdwatching with Mr. Park. She had spent almost every weekend wandering through the woods, even when it was cold or rainy. “You can do this.” She nodded again, and she took the hands of one of the littles, and she led them up the mountain. Far from the main road, every step took them deeper into the trees until they couldn’t hear any sound but the wind through the reddening leaves and their own unsteady breathing. 

They walked for two hours, taking a meandering route as Laika cast nervous glances in the direction of what Jimmy thought was the main road. As the sun started to slide down towards the opposite horizon, Jimmy caught her eye. 

“All good?” 

She chewed her lip nervously, glancing over his shoulder, but then her eyes snagged on something. She nodded decisively and pointed. Behind him, high up in an enormous tree, was the Farm School treehouse. “We’re close,” she whispered, and she led them on. 

Farm School was as silent as a grave when Laika led their pack of six through the back entrance to the campus. They glanced around, but there was no one in sight. 

“Maybe they’re hiding,” Tommy said. “Should we split up to look?” 

“No,” Jimmy and Laika said, in unison. Jimmy shook his head as Laika said, “We should stay together.” Tommy nodded, and redoubled his grip on Mira and Ellie’s hands. 

“Big house first,” Jimmy said, and they scuttled across the campus, through the empty fields. The grass had been trampled down, and any remnants of the ill-fated summer projects had been ground underfoot. They slipped into the main house silently, through an unlocked backdoor. The big industrial kitchen was empty, with the cabinets and closets thrown open like someone had rummaged through.

Jimmy pushed ahead to cross into the cafeteria, but Laika slowed, considering the empty shelves. “Someone took everything that was left here,” she said. “I don’t think the teachers would have done that. There’s not even salt left.” She was right, but there was nothing else they could do. They continued on.

There was no one in the big house. Not even bodies. Half the students had stayed behind that morning; those who hadn’t received a specific invitation to the day’s event. Jimmy’s brain reared back from the implications of that idea, and he put it from his mind. One thing at a time. They had gotten home. Now they had to find Mr. Park. 

But he wasn’t in the big house, and he wasn’t in the classrooms or gymnasium. Jimmy turned in a circle under the dying sun, considering the shadows sinking over the campus. “The comm system is in the labs. It was in Mr. Park’s office, I think. Maybe he’s there.”

Laika nodded. She and Tommy looked at each other, and Tommy said, “I’ll stay with the littles in the big house. We’ll be in our room. You guys go look.” 

Jimmy opened his mouth, ready to stop them from separating, but Laika shook her head, almost imperceptibly. They left Tommy with the littles and stole across the darkening campus to the laboratory building. 

“I thought we said we weren’t splitting up,” Jimmy hissed, as they pushed open the door into the building. Laika considered him for a minute before she said, “Just in case there’s something we don’t want the littles to see.” Jimmy’s stomach dropped. 

The labs were as silent as everywhere else was, but Jimmy’s ears still rang with the echoes of the phaser blasts. They tread carefully, fearfully, but every lab was empty. Mr. Park’s door, at the end of the central hall, was ajar when they reached it, and they exchanged uneasy glances. Mr. Park was quiet, and private, and his door was never open. But the comms unit--- an enormous, outdated, clunky thing compared to the sleek Starfleet one that Jimmy’s parents had kept in their Iowa house--- was on a table within. 

Laika pushed the door further open. Jimmy crept in first. There was no one visible, but the comms unit was on. The front screen emitted a soft green glow. Jimmy approached it and tapped the playback button.

Mr. Park’s voice, harsh with his labored breathing, filled the room. They both jumped. “This is Lieutenant Commander Ashton Park, retired, sending an SOS from Tarsus IV. Something--- ah--- has gone terribly wrong. At first it was just a food shortage--- they said it was some fungus, but it was nothing I’d ever--- god! I’d ever seen.” Mr. Park’s breathing grew heavier, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Kodos has the only real comms relay, and he said he called for help, but I don’t think--- I don’t think he did. I don’t think anyone’s coming. And they took the kids. God, his guards took the kids. They had a list.” Jimmy turned to look at Laika, horror building in his chest, stealing his breath, but she wasn’t looking at him or the comms station. “He’s doing something. Kodos is up to something.” Mr. Park wheezed horribly, something wet rattling in his lungs. “This is it for me, but if anyone’s out there, monitoring any of these frequencies… get to Tarsus as fast as you can. While there’s still anyone to save. Park out.” Jimmy turned around to look where Laika was looking. A pair of dirt-stained work boots and two denim-clad legs poked out from behind Mr. Park’s desk. Laika shook her head, mouthing, “No, no, no, no,” and Jimmy grabbed her by the arm, towing her backwards. 

“We have to get out of here,” he said, and she let him turn him from Mr. Park’s body and away from the office. Jimmy left the comms relay on but shut the door behind them. 

“We can’t stay here,” he said, as they crossed back to the big house. “Some of the guards saw us running. They’ll come back for us.” 

“The treehouse,” Laika said. “We’ll take the camping stuff and stay there. We can--- there’s probably some stuff we can still forage, at least for a few weeks, and drink from the streams. We can stay out there until help arrives.” Jimmy nodded. 

“We can keep the littles safe. That’s what Madeleine and Natalya would do,” Jimmy said, and Laika’s lip trembled, but she nodded too. 

The sun had set by the time they returned to the big house. They told Tommy what they needed to do, took all the camping supplies that they could carry, and left Farm School behind. As the six survivors headed back into the woods, towards their treehouse, their former home receded into shadow and was gone. 

The four in-between weeks were fuzzier in Kirk’s memories than the beginning and the end. Most of the days blurred together in a mess of hunger and sleep, of stripping the bark off of trees with a knife and digging out the soft wood inside to eat; of telling the littles that collecting acorns was a game and whoever found the most would win; of the bright sharp days after stealing something worth eating from the town when they were brave or dumb enough to risk getting caught by the guards who still hunted runners on the streets. Kirk let most of those memories spin by them in blurry streaks, waiting for the memories of the days that mattered. 

There was the day that the littles were too weak to climb the rope ladder anymore, and the big kids were too weak to carry them up. Jimmy packed up their sleeping bags and iodine tablets and tossed them down out of the treehouse, and Laika led them to an old animal warren that she had found while scavenging. Whatever large creature had created the den in the roots of the tree was long gone, and they crawled down into it gratefully. If Jimmy was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how many more times he could have made it up the ladder before eventually falling--- the exertion made him dizzy, and his hands were too weak to grip the rope ladder. The den was more dangerous than the treehouse had been--- closer to town, closer to the ground, and every once in a while they heard deep voices of adults echoing through the trees. But they didn’t say so out loud. 

In the beginning, before there was only the hunger and then the numbness, Laika and Jimmy and Tommy had harsh, whispered conversations about trying to save their classmates. What had they been taken from Farm School for? If terrible things were happening to them, shouldn’t they try to help them? They had no weapons, no help, no way to fend off an army of Kodos’s murderous guards if they tried to free their classmates, but talking about taking action kept away the urge to lay down and die. 

Then, three weeks after the massacre, Laika came back with one expired can of sweet potatoes and a haunted, ragged look that Jimmy hadn’t seen on her before. He dragged her down into the den, catching her when she stumbled on her feet. Tommy leapt up to grab her other arm, and even with both of them holding on she trembled so badly that Jimmy thought she would vibrate out of her skin and into a puddle. They set her on the ground, used one of their hunting knives to wedge the top of the can off, and split the meager amount between the six of them.

“I saw Gemma,” she whispered, later that night. Jimmy sat, back against the wall of the warren, watching the tunnel entrance. Tommy lay with his back to it, one of the littles curled up against him for warmth. Laika sat cross-legged between them, no longer shaking but with a thousand-yard stare that seemed to burn through the wall of their safe hidey-hole, like she could see all the way back to the town. “There was a house with all the doors open, and I could see the kitchen… I thought I might get in and out, that there was no one inside.” 

“Gemma was in the house?” 

“Her parents live here,” Laika said dully. “Or, lived. They were all dead.” 

Tommy closed his eyes. Jimmy said, “Starved?” 

But Laika shook her head. “I don’t think so. They didn’t have food either, like I thought they might, but there was something else wrong with them. Their skin was all gray.” Jimmy shivered. “I looked everywhere, but that was all they had,” Laika said, lifting her chin at the now-empty can. “But they weren’t going to eat it.” 

They sat in silence, listening to the quiet rustling of the trees outside, until Tommy unscrewed the lid to one of their bottles of stream water and offered it to Laika. She shook her head. “I drank enough out of their faucet,” she said. 

“Fancy-pants,” Jimmy said, and he took the bottle when Tommy passed it to him. Laika laid down where she had been sitting, between Tommy and the wall, and Jimmy squeezed both of their hands before moving to lay between the littles and the entrance to the den. His bones pressed uncomfortably against the ground, but he curled up next to Mira and Ellie and fell asleep. 

Jimmy woke up a few hours later. It stunk of warm skin, of sickness and rot. The earth was hard beneath his body. It felt like his hip bones, his tailbone and shoulder blades, each of his knobby vertebrae, were pressing a bruise against the inside of his skin where they rested heavily against the ground. It was mostly dark out, no sunlight to illuminate the rabbit-warren tunnel, only the faint light of a waxing moon providing any visibility. The shadowed bodies of his pack lay alongside him in gentle repose. He counted them off: one was him, two was Ellie, three was Mira, four was Kevin, five was Tommy. At six, he jerked to a halt. Something wasn’t right. Before he was aware that he was moving he had scrambled across the dirt to her: Laika, her brown hair a rat’s nest of dirt and leaves, unmoving. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered, and shook Tommy’s shoulder. “Tommy, wake up!” Her unnatural stillness had caught his attention: now that he was next to her, he could see more clearly the graying waxy pallor of her cheeks and lips, the immobile smoothness of her eyelids. Tommy woke with a jolt, rolling over immediately. He pushed himself up with one hand and shook Laika with the other. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice growly with sleep. “Wake up.” 

Jimmy grabbed her other shoulder, shaking her, the other hand coming to rest against her gaunt cheek. “Hey. Laika. It’s not funny. Wake up.” But Laika did not wake up. Her eyes did not open. Her chest did not rise. 

“Jimmy, what happened?” Tommy whispered. 

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said, disbelief raising his voice high like one of the little’s. “I just woke up, and I saw that---” He gagged, overwhelmed by the smell of dirty skin and death, sickness and rot. “Laika, wake up!” God, he was so tired, and so hungry, and there were only five of them now, and what would they do without her? She had been so brave, had stolen for them, had known the woods and the way around town better than anyone, and now she was so still and silent, and they couldn’t drag her back from wherever she had gone without them. He closed his eyes, and the cold, analytical half of him rose up and drowned the half of him that cried out at how unfair it all was.

“We have to move her,” Jimmy whispered as Tommy whimpered to himself, hand still mechanically rocking Laika’s shoulder. 

“What? No! Why?” Tommy whispered back.

“We can’t let the littles see her like this,” he said. 

“Where are we going to put her? We can’t bury her!” 

“Down the mountain. Near the town. They won’t notice another body.” Jimmy hated the words as they came out of his mouth: practical, useful, awful. He wanted to lay down next to Laika, close his eyes, and follow where she had gone. But he couldn’t--- not with Tommy and the littles still here. Not with his last holo to Sam and his message to his parents still soaring through space. Tommy sniffled, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and nodded. Jimmy nodded back and shoved Tommy gently. Tommy got up, stepping carefully around the sleeping littles, and gingerly picked up Laika’s ankles. Jimmy wormed his hands under her shoulders and bent his arms under hers, picking her up off the ground. They backed up to the entrance and Jimmy went as slowly as he could, arms burning with the strain of Laika’s weight, until he felt the cool air of the night outside of their den on his back. 

Together they carried her down the mountain in the worst parade of two Jimmy had ever been a part of, and they left her on the outskirts of the town. Tommy kissed her forehead and cried. They held hands as they stole quietly back to their safe hole. They crawled back inside, each refusing to let go of the other’s hand, and fell asleep curled together. 

When the littles woke up the next morning, and Jimmy pulled them all into the circle of his arms and told them that Laika wasn’t coming back, they were too tired to cry. But he felt their shoulders deflate, sinking further into themselves, and he held them closer. Tommy leaned against him, keeping Jimmy from tilting over, and their broken family of five slept most of that day away, letting the sun rise and set without them. 

The next day, Tommy left them in the den to scavenge acorns. He came back as the sun slipped down below the horizon, staggering with exhaustion, his empty, distended stomach painfully visible as he held his bounty in the bottom of his shirt like an apron. Using two rocks and all the strength left in their arms, he and Jimmy cracked them open and scraped the meager meat out of the shells to distribute between themselves and the littles. The underbrush had died with the changing of the seasons, and Laika had held most of their knowledge about what plants were edible. Without her, they would have to survive on acorns and tree bark and water. 

The morning after that, Mira cried and wailed and refused to open her eyes, curled around herself. Ellie moaned in sympathy, and Kevin sat next to them and talked incessantly about anything that came into his mind, just to distract them. But his eyes were dim and glassy, and more often than not his sentences trailed off before he finished them. The morning after that, all three littles refused to sit up and curled together with heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’m going into town,” Jimmy said. For a second, it seemed like Tommy would argue with him, to ask him to stay. But in the end he just nodded and pulled Mira against his chest, rocking her side to side. Jimmy left them like that. If Laika was right, and something other than starvation was killing the colonists, there might be something left for them to scavenge. He would find it and bring it back to them, and the littles would sit up and talk to them, and they would survive another few days. 

The leaves had begun to fall from the trees. If he had counted the days correctly, and there was no guarantee that he had, October would start soon. Last year, that meant harvest festivals and a gourd that was certainly not a pumpkin but could be carved like one to be set out on every doorstep. Gemma had won the carving contest--- but he wouldn’t think about Gemma now. He dragged his legs, step after step, down the mountain to the town.

He didn’t see another living soul, but the bodies of the colonists were everywhere. On their front stoops, laying behind houses, on the main street, their graying, decaying corpses bloated and stinking. Some of them looked emaciated, their skin shrink-wrapped to their bones. But Laika had been at least partially right: not all of the dead looked like they had starved. Jimmy felt the knobs of his own knees knocking together as he passed the grayish-blue body of a man who looked like he should have been in the peak of health, except for the fact that he was dead. 

He stole from doorway to doorway, peering around corners, moving as quietly as he could. But for the first time since the day in the auditorium, he didn’t see the green-shirted law enforcement agents prowling the outskirts of the town, nor guarding the waist-high iron fence that circled the governor’s house. He ducked around another corner, closer to the center of town, and stumbled over a pair of legs in dark pants.

He reared back, his heart in his throat at the forest-green jacket on the torso, before he registered the sickly gray pallor of the body’s skin. This guard looked like Jimmy imagined he did; sunken cheeks, deep circles under his eyes, and the bones of his knuckles jutted out of the skin like mountains. “Not even guards get fed,” he muttered to himself, and he felt a savage relief that those who had not been sacrificed, who had done the sacrificing, had not been spared the horrors that they had endured. He moved to continue onward before pausing. The guard’s phaser was still tucked into his holster.

Jimmy held his breath and bent over the body. It was stiff, unmoving, as he reached with shaking fingers to unclip the strap and slide the phaser out. He watched the body nervously, but it did not awaken to grab him. He glanced at the settings on the phaser, but he didn’t know what they meant, so he left them as they were and stuck the weapon in the waistband of his ratty jeans. 

He had only taken one step away from the body when there was a crackle. He spun, horrified, but the guard still hadn’t moved. The crackling noise came again.

“My chosen ones,” Kodos rasped. His voice came through an ancient portable radio, clipped on the other side of the guard’s belt. Jimmy froze as that voice pierced through the fog of hunger and exhaustion, lighting up his brain with fear and anger. Why had so many people died, why had Laika died, and Kodos still got to live? Kodos coughed. “The grand experiment must end here. There is no path forward. Forgive me.” He wheezed again, voice quieting. Jimmy hunched next to the corpse and the radio, ears straining. “If anyone is out there, heed me. We must burn it down.” He reeled back. 

“Burn it down. Destroy the evidence. Cleanse this place.” Kodos coughed, and then the crackle of another radio breaking through the static interrupted him. 

“I hear you, sir,” someone else’s voice muttered, weak and ragged. “I can do it.”

“I owe you… a debt of gratitude,” Kodos said. Then the radio went silent. Jimmy froze on his haunches, consumed by his anger, replaying Kodos’s message in his head. Then something clicked, and he staggered to his feet. Blood dribbled slowly back into his weak limbs, but he forced them into movement. He turned back the way he had come and heaved his starving body back home. Kodos had called to burn it all, and someone had responded. 

It had been a dry summer. It hadn’t rained in weeks. His friends were in the woods. 

Lungs aching, muscles cramping, swollen stomach pinching in pain, he ran. Against the wishes of every bone in his body, he ran as hard as he could, straight down the center streets of the remains of the town, back towards the den and Tommy and the littles. He had to warn them. The woods were going to light up like a matchstick after the summer they’d had. They couldn’t have starved and survived for so long for Kodos to kill them like this, impersonally, anonymously. Madeleine and Natalya didn’t die in the auditorium so that Kodos could have the final word. Jimmy broke from the town and sprinted flat-out for the cover of the woods.

Stealth didn’t matter anymore. He screamed, “Tommy!” He sucked in huge, gasping breaths as his stomach threatened to rebel and his legs cramped and his knees ached. “Tommy! Get up!” He staggered through the woods, his vision going black at the edges as his body tried to collapse, but he shoved himself up and kept going, screaming for his friend.

Finally, up ahead, the enormous tree that had sheltered them--- and from the roots of it, an addled Tommy and littles emerging into the sunlight. 

“Jimmy?” Tommy rubbed one eye, dizzy in the sudden brightness. “What happened?” Jimmy opened his mouth to respond when they heard it. Further up the mountain, something snapped and popped, then rustled, then roared. The fire caught.

“Run,” Jimmy said, grabbing Kevin and swinging him onto his back as Tommy grabbed Mira and Ellie’s hands. “Run!” His body protesting every step, his spine bending under Kevin’s weight, Jimmy and Tommy fled. Something cracked, and a hot gust of wind pressed them forward, singeing their hair and burning their backs. Mira started to cry. It was still somehow better than her half-dead silence from that morning.

“What---?” Tommy gasped out, footsteps pounding in time with Jimmy’s. 

“Kodos,” Jimmy spat. “Fire.” Tommy moaned with fear, but when Ellie stumbled at their speed he hefted her onto his back. Behind them, the woods that had been their shelter and salvation erupted into an inferno. The flames caught the few leaves that hadn’t fallen and spread in a crown fire over their heads as they pelted out of the forest. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy could see it racing down the hill, almost even with them. Tears streamed down his face from fear and the smoke, which caught in his lungs, stung his skin. He could see similar tracks running down the dirt on Tommy’s face.

They had the littles. They had each other. They broke from the cage of the treeline as the fire leapt at their heels and caught in the dry autumn grass of the open plain between them and the town. The grass blazed up immediately, and Jimmy’s legs, his hips and back and shoulders burned with it. Tommy cried out and swung Ellie up too, away from the fire, her screams drowned out by the roar of the crown fire above. 

Ahead, there was one patch of unburned safety that Jimmy could see. He cut towards it. “The road!” Tommy followed him, coughing as he ran, and they covered the distance to the hard-packed dirt as fast as they could. They staggered onto the dry earth as the plain behind them sparked and hissed.

Mira moaned, and the pathetic little sound broke through Jimmy’s panic as the pain of their exertion set in. He let Kevin slide to the ground, and the friction of the little boy’s clothes against his scorched skin was like being burned all over again. Ellie had gone very, very pale, the only shock of color on her skin the angry red of her legs and feet. 

Tommy wobbled, and Jimmy grabbed his elbows, keeping him upright. 

“Stay with me, okay?” 

“It hurts, Jimmy,” Tommy said, and Jimmy didn’t dare look down over his shoulder to his back. His clothes were sloughing off of him, destroyed. Kodos couldn’t have him like this. 

“Just a few steps more,” Jimmy said. He took Kevin’s hand in his and gently picked up Mira. “Can you walk with me? Just a few more?” Tommy wavered on his feet, but Ellie slid her hand into his and he nodded. 

“It’s just a little further,” Jimmy said. “Then you’ll feel better.” There was a reservoir on the other side of town; even the farm’s irrigation system had been hooked up to it. Jimmy had never prayed as hard as he did that moment for there to be water in the reservoir still. Step by excruciating step, he led them down the road for the first time since the massacre day. Tommy fell silent and his eyes sometimes slid shut, but he held Ellie’s hand and walked on. Jimmy lost the feeling in his legs, but Mira let him put her down after a few minutes and she limped alongside them. The fear of guards or Kodos never really went away, but they didn’t see another living being on the road. The fire burned on the other side of the town, its roar muted by blessed distance and halted by the paved roads. Minutes later, or maybe hours, he was peering over the stone lip of the reservoir. The drought had done its damage, but there was a few blessed feet of water within. He found the stone steps leading down into it. 

Jimmy walked the littles down into the water. They stood still and quiet as he stripped their burned clothing away from them before stepping into the water with them. Then, once they were carefully ensconced in the water where it was shallow enough for them to stand, he stripped his own clothing away. The phaser he had stolen, somehow still in his jeans despite his pell-mell flight, got dropped on top of his pile of clothes along with his t-shirt before he followed the littles into the water. He didn’t know if it was clean, but he couldn’t bring himself to care: it was cool, and there was enough to stand in, and it felt like heaven. Tommy’s clothes dripped off him, shredding as he pulled his shirt over his head, and his back was a mess of dirt and singed skin. But he sloshed into the water, eyes closing in relief, and the five of them drifted as the fire burned itself out on the other side of town. Smoke billowed overhead, clouding the teal sky with the angry black smog of organic matter. The ash fell like dirty snow. They still didn’t have anything to eat, but they filled their bellies with water, and it almost felt like being full. As the sun slipped down behind the horizon, they piled together on the day-warmed terrace steps and slept. 

A high, distant droning woke Jimmy from his restless sleep, early the next morning. It wormed into his dreams, filling his mind, before his subconscious recognized it and he jolted awake. Kevin tipped away from him as he shot upward, scrambling for his jeans. Tommy’s eyes opened slowly. 

“Where’re you going?” His words were slurred, but Jimmy didn’t have time to wait for him to wake up. If he was right, it wouldn’t matter. 

“Shuttle!” Jimmy grabbed the phaser and his t-shirt, jabbed it into the waist of his pants and dragged it over his head. “I’ll be back!” His whole body felt alight with something he almost didn’t recognize--- hope, a hope so big that it hurt to breathe. He sprinted up the terraced steps, cocking his head to one side and scanning the sky as he ran. It was just past daybreak, the true teal of the sky still warming up from the inky black of night. He ran towards what he thought was the source of the sound, straight up the road from the reservoir towards the town. Maybe he could shoot the phaser in the air and get the attention of the pilot? They had to be looking for the colonists: whether it was a trader or a rescue shuttle or even just a random traveler, they had to be looking for the people who lived here. It must have already landed; he didn’t see anything in the sky. He followed the high humming of an active engine through the town square, past the cursed town hall, past the burnt husks of houses unlucky enough to be built from wood instead of brick. The land to his right was scorched black earth, ash as far as the eye could see. Eerie black fingers of burnt trees reached for the sky. He tore down the road towards the song of the engine. 

“I’m here! I’m over here!” He hollered as loud as he could until his throat burned, but he didn’t see anyone. There was no movement, but the roar of the shuttle was growing so loud that it was vibrating the air around him. A shuttle meant people. People meant help. 

Jimmy skirted the outer fence of the governor’s house, running along the northernmost edge. His hand brushed the iron of the latticework, and it trembled with the force of the engine. It had to be closer. He passed the back edge of the house and skidded to a halt. 

The governor’s backyard was an enormous expanse of burnt grass and bushes, and parked in the center was a black shuttle. As Jimmy’s heart pounded and he cried out in outrage and disbelief, he registered three details in stark relief. 

The first was that the Kodos’s guards had exchanged their hunter-green uniforms for black ones. Two of them held up a sagging gray body between them, and a third circled them with a plasma rifle in hand. 

The second was that the shuttle door was open, and a fourth guard leaned out of it, reaching for the body. 

The third was that the body was staggering to its feet, lifting its head. It was Kodos. He was alive. His horrible uncanny eyes were alight in his gaunt and crevassed face. 

This was a mistake. This had to be a mistake. Help could not have arrived for him, after what he had done. What about the littles? What about Tommy? What about him? 

He screamed out, “Hey!” The procession of guards and the devil himself paused, all four of their heads turning to look at him. “Help us!” 

Time slowed as the guards looked at him, on the other side of the fence, then looked at each other. Jimmy grabbed the fence between them, shaking with the force of his hope and disbelief, and watched as they looked away from him and kept walking. 

They kept walking. They were going to put Kodos on the shuttle and take him away and leave them here. Fury like Jimmy had never felt before rose like a tsunami within him, drowning out all reason and leaving only the knowledge that Kodos did not deserve to be rescued from the ruins of the colony that he had destroyed. 

There was a phaser tucked into the back of his jeans. The cool metal of the barrel dug into his back. He took it out and, like he was shooting skeet back on the farm with Sam, sighted along it. He saw Kodos’s fine gray hair and craggy face on the other side. 

He fired. 

The head of the nearest guard snapped up at the whine of the weapon. He locked eyes with Jimmy and, without hesitation, stepped directly in front of the bolt of energy meant for Kodos. Jimmy watched in frozen horror as the phaser fire hit the guard and tore him open. He spun and dropped to the ground. Kodos glanced blankly at the body on the ground, just another sacrifice for him, and allowed the guard in the shuttle to grab his arm and haul him in. The guard with the rifle pointed it directly at Jimmy. 

He had shot at Kodos and missed. The shuttle and the people on it weren’t going to help them. Jimmy stood his ground, phaser still raised, and glared at the guard, refusing to look at the rifle aimed at his head. He was going to die, but he was going to do it without flinching. In his periphery, he saw the last guard drag the body of his comrade into the shuttle. The blood from the wound glinted against the dirt in the early-morning sun. 

 The other guard came back around and pushed the barrel of the rifle down. “Leave it,” he said. “Look at him. He’s almost dead anyway.” With a final sneer the rifleman turned away. They swung themselves into the black shuttle, and the door slammed shut behind them. 

Jimmy watched numbly as the shuttle lifted off vertically, soaring higher and higher until it was just a black dot against the blue sky. Then it was gone. He looked down again, and saw the blood of the man that he had killed drying on the hard-packed earth. 

He threw the phaser as far as he could away from himself and, turning from the scene of his violence and failure, vomited up all of the water left in his stomach. He leaned back against the sharp metal of the fence and slid to the ground, staring blankly at the blackened edge of the prairie beyond the town. He didn’t know how long he sat there for before Tommy’s voice broke through his reverie. 

“What happened?” Tommy was shaking him, panic on his face, and Jimmy felt guilty. He had meant to go back to them, but he couldn’t seem to shake the whine of the phaser out of his ears. It was hard to hear anything else over it. The littles hovered over his shoulder, their drawn faces pinched with worry. 

“Nothing,” Jimmy said, with a glance at the littles. He coughed, stomach acid burning in his throat, and let Tommy help him up. “I think this house is empty now, though. Let’s see if there’s anything in there to eat.” 

“Isn’t this the governor’s house?” Tommy dropped his voice low as the littles straggled behind them in a line. “You don’t think he’s…?” 

“He’s gone,” Jimmy said, and his own voice was rough and unfamiliar. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” Jimmy said, and glanced down at the littles as Kevin snagged two of his fingers in his weakened grip. He led them into the empty house, and they walked quickly past the rooms where the bodies of guards decayed on couches and seated against walls, until they arrived in an enormous kitchen. It seemed to be made entirely of ceramic and aluminum, with two huge ovens set into the wall and a stovetop built directly into the counter. It was so different from the industrial-sized kitchen at Farm School, which managed to feel warm and cozy despite being built for mass production. This kitchen was cold and clinical. They opened all the cabinets and drawers, finding only utensils and pots and pans, before Tommy noticed a narrow door set back in a corner. He opened it, and revealed stairs leading down into a darkness that smelled like soil and rot. They both looked mistrustfully at it. 

“I’ve got this one, Jimmy,” Tommy said finally, and left him standing in the kitchen with the littles. Jimmy continued to open cabinets and drawers, finding nothing but kitchen utilities, until Tommy climbed back up the stairs, wiping his hands on his already horrible pants. 

“It’s awful down there,” Tommy said, but he clutched a can in his hands victoriously. “Like the summer projects all over again. But I did find this.” He wiped oily blue smears off the label, revealing a label for baked beans that had expired the year previous. They heated the beans up in a pot on the stove, reveling in the warmth from the electric burner, and the five ate directly from the pot with wooden spoons, just because they could. They dumped the pot and spoons in the sink without cleaning them. 

They scavenged through the house, stealing blankets and pillows off of couches that were unoccupied, and found a room that didn’t stink too badly of decay--- a sunroom near the back of the house, through the windows of which Jimmy could see the flattened, desiccated grass where the shuttle had been. As the littles slept, their bellies not empty for once, Jimmy told Tommy, quietly, shamefully, what he had done. The sun was setting by the time he finished. 

Tommy considered what he had said, turning the embroidered edge of a blanket over in his hands. Jimmy picked at the burned skin on his hands and tried not to think about the blood against the dirt.

Finally Tommy looked up, eyes flashing in fading light, and said, “Fuck ‘em. He probably deserved it.” Something in Jimmy’s heart unclenched. He and Tommy fell asleep facing each other, with a roof over their heads and the littles between them. 

He awoke the next morning to shouting and movement, adults in red and blue and gold swarming into the room with phasers and comms. Jimmy flung himself upright, crouching over the littles, baring his teeth at the intruders before he recognized the familiar uniforms. 

“Oh, my god,” the closest Starfleet officer said, a whirring tricorder in her hand. “You’re alive.” 

The memories of the next month were a blur of pain and space. Jimmy and Tommy and the littles were beamed up together to the U.S.S. Valiant, where they were poked and prodded and tied to biobeds with IVs of fluids and nutrients. They were scanned with every machine in Medbay, it seemed, while the doctors spoke quietly to each other and refused to tell them anything about what the scans said. Not a single one of them stopped shaking for the first seventy-two hours.

After living feral for a month, adjusting to the sterility of a starship was excruciating. The littles screamed shrilly when Jimmy or Tommy were out of their vision. Jimmy ate a meal from the replicator and threw it up immediately. Tommy had to be sedated and restrained after the doctor tried to put him in the metal box of the dermal regenerator for his back. They refused to sleep apart from each other, and the whirs and beeps of the unfamiliar ship made it impossible to pretend that they were in their treehouse or the den. Jimmy whispered to Tommy that he was afraid of Kodos coming to find him, and Tommy held his hand in the dark of the room that they all shared. Under the harsh lights of the starship and after the dirt and blood and soot was washed away, their skin was an unhealthy gray, and every day medical staff took their blood and patted their heads and made nervous eye contact when they thought the children weren’t looking. 

In the end, the captain and the first officer told Jimmy and Tommy, it was Lieutenant Commander Ashton Park’s last desperate call that got the Valiant to Tarsus in time. Kodos had never used the government relay to call for help, not even when the harvest first started dying. 

Then there was the journey back to Earth. Tommy and their littles were shipped off to what remained of their families, and no one would tell Jimmy where they went. Jimmy’s own parents were waiting for him when he got to Earth. A week after he arrived home, Sam kicked his hospital door open and set up shop next to his bed while he slowly ingested three months’ worth of nutrients through an IV and finished regrowing his skin. Every night, he woke up screaming Kodos’s name, and his parents looked nervously at each other, and Sam stopped going home with their parents and instead dragged a cot into Jimmy’s hospital room.

Then Dr. Johns replaced the familiar Iowa family doctor that he had been seeing. Jimmy confessed that he wasn’t sleeping, couldn’t bear to be the only person breathing in a room, and he told Dr. Johns that all he could think about was Kodos coming back for him. 

“Kodos is dead, Jimmy,” Dr. Johns had said kindly, reading the screen on the machine hooked up to Jimmy’s arm. 

“You found him?” Jimmy sat up so suddenly he got dizzy, the hospital room swirling around him. Dr. Johns gave him an odd look. 

“Governor Kodos died on Tarsus, Jimmy. In the fire that claimed everyone else.” 

“No,” he said. “No, he didn’t. I told you, and I told the doctor on the Valiant. There was a shuttle! It came and got him!” Dr. Johns sat on the edge of his bed and pushed him back against the headboard with a gentle hand. 

“Please, calm yourself,” he said. “You are very upset. You survived something awful. It is only natural that your thoughts are confused at this time.” 

“I’m not confused,” Jimmy had insisted. “I know what I saw. And he got out.” Dr. Johns had a conversation with his parents outside his hospital room, and through the little window set into the door he saw his mother stare haughtily out the hallway window as his dad wiped a hand across his devastated face. Sam held his hand and said, “I believe you, Jimmy.” But Sam couldn’t convince their parents or Dr. Johns, and then Jimmy woke up from the same awful nightmare to find his old friends from his elementary school in Iowa standing behind his mom with balloons. They sat around him as he tried to sit up straight and felt the weakness in the muscles along his spine, and then after a painfully awkward hour they left, and he did not see them again until he started back at school the following year, when he only had to check in at the Dr. Johns’s clinic once a week for blood testing and dialysis. They said hi, and they signed each other’s yearbooks, and Jimmy skipped the school dances and football games and a lot of his classes to climb up to the roof of the high school and stare at the stars instead.

Then he got to the Academy, and he met Elise. 

“We’ve been keeping an eye on you,” she said to him during their first meeting, her eyes twinkling. “We knew you were going to be special.” He talked about Kodos and Tarsus, and it helped, until it didn’t. She taught him how to hide the parts of him that the IVs and dialysis and dermal regenerators didn’t fix. He met Bones, and made friends, and he was surrounded by people who didn’t know where he had been and what it had done to him, and he was happier than he’d been in years, despite the nightmares and the panic attacks and the grief. He missed Tommy and the littles, but Elise said that she’d checked in on them and that they were doing well, and at the Academy he got to learn by doing and experimenting for himself the way he had at Farm School. Then he’d graduated, and worked his way up the ranks despite the ceaseless fear that Kodos would hunt him down someday, and eventually he became a captain and was given the Enterprise. The ghosts of Tarsus lived in him, but he had bricked them behind a wall that got thicker and thicker with every passing year. 

It wasn’t until he had gone and fallen in love that he had been forced to reckon with the fact that he still carried those ghosts at all. 

☆☆☆

The memory-stream faded, leaking away into the abyss. Kirk stood in the black of the meldspace. His whole soul ached with grief and remembrance, but there was a clarity to it. There was still a wound in him, one that had healed poorly, but in the telling, some of the rot in him had been finally cleaned away. 

Jim, Spock said, and it was with a slight jolt of surprise that Kirk remembered that he wasn’t alone. Spock’s voice was ragged. I grieve with thee. 

Kirk bowed his head, and he sensed Spock’s mind curled around his, protective, comforting.

I will take us from the meld now, Spock said. You will rest. And then we must talk about what you showed me. The rough edges of Spock’s voice were smoothed over as he reasserted his control, and Kirk felt a flicker of unease at his words. He had tried to convince the rest of the world that Kodos had escaped, and had failed each time. But then Spock said, without preamble, I believe you, captain, and one more piece of Kirk’s anxiety melted away. There was a sense of rising, as if coming up from the bottom of a deep pool, and the blackness lessened until Kirk felt himself reemerge from a very long tunnel back into his own mind. 

He still lay on his side, Spock’s hand pressed to his face and clutched between his own. His arm was numb beneath him, and his eyelids were sticky with stillness. He opened his eyes as Spock pulled his hand back from his face, extending and clenching his fingers. Spock’s eyes opened as the familiar noises of the Enterprise around him floated slowly back into his awareness: the hum of the warp drive, footsteps in the corridor, faint beeping from far away.

“That’s what I saw,” Kirk said. “That’s what I did.” He rolled over onto his back and stared up at his familiar ceiling. He was tired, all the way down to his bones. He felt as though someone had wrung his brain out like a sponge. “Can we discuss this in the morning?” 

“Certainly,” Spock said, after hesitating only for a second. His voice was deep with disuse. Kirk closed his eyes and waited for him to get up. 

He did not get up. 

Kirk opened his eyes and turned his head. Spock still lay on his side, watching him. Rather than the pity or disgust Kirk expected, Spock’s face was open and warm.

“What?” 

Spock hesitated, before reaching across the space between them and resting his hand on Kirk’s bicep. “I am disquieted by the possibility of you having died before I knew of your existence in our universe.” His fingers flexed, tightening on Kirk’s arm. “I have never been more grateful for your refusal to submit to the law of large numbers.” 

Kirk closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Spock’s palm on his skin. He brought his other hand to cover it, his fingers brushing the back of Spock’s wrist. They lay next to each other, their breathing slowing until they were inhaling in tandem. The post-meld exhaustion pulled at Kirk’s mind, the gentle rhythm of Spock’s breathing lulling him to sleep. 

“Jim,” said Spock quietly. Kirk forced his eyes open again, fighting the weight of his eyelids. “Would you like me to stay?” Kirk looked at him, trying to read his expression--- the Vulcan’s face was neutral, watching him in kind. But his arm was still stretched across the distance between them, his hand steady against Kirk’s arm. Spock had walked unflinchingly beside him through every memory of the worst days of his life; he did not think that he would begrudge him his company now. 

“Please,” Kirk said. Spock’s hand pressed against his arm before he sat up swiftly and stood. 

“I will return momentarily,” he said, and Kirk nodded. Spock crossed the room, retrieved his clothing from his half of the closet, and vanished into the bathroom. Kirk heard the air recycler kick on at his entrance, and he pressed his hands to his eyes. 

Despite everything, despite his grief and trauma and the ghosts and his failures, he felt the irrepressible start of a crooked smile forcing its way onto his face. He felt lighter. He felt free. He had shared everything that Elise had told him could never be shared, and Spock had not run screaming from the room or removed him from duty. He had told Spock about Kodos and the shuttle, and Spock had believed him. Showing Spock what he had done, what he had failed to do, hadn’t been the end of the line. It was only the beginning of the conversation. And then Spock had reached out to touch him. He wasn’t alone.

Spock reentered in the tunic and pants he slept in, with his makeup gone and smelling faintly of mint. Kirk sat up. Spock met his eyes.

“You know,” Kirk said, before he could chicken out. “That couch is not the most comfortable piece of furniture to sleep on.” 

“I did not object to it,” Spock said, but he clasped his hands behind his back and cocked his head slightly. 

“It’s not awful, but the bed is better for a proper rest.” 

“Indeed,” Spock said slowly, and Kirk saw a hint of that daring steal into his eyes, glinting in the half-dark. “What do you propose, captain?” 

“I think the most logical course of action is to share the bed,” Kirk said. “It’s been a long night. And we’ve got a big day tomorrow.” 

“I had assumed the day would be the same size as all other days, but I am curious to hear why you think otherwise,” Spock said, and he crossed the room to the bed. Kirk scooted backwards so he could slide beneath the comforter, and Spock joined him. 

“Computer, lights to zero,” Kirk said. He tried to steady his breathing, sink into the sleep that his exhausted brain wanted, he couldn’t. Though his brain unhelpfully, unsurprisingly supplied him with the image of the shuttle taking the governor away again, and he could still feel the lingering dread and exhaustion in his limbs, the fear that Kodos would hunt him down had lost a little of its strength. Even if Kodos did find him out here, he was only human, and there was a Vulcan laying in Kirk’s bed. Spock would tear Kodos apart if he came anywhere near him again. The thought was comforting, but he still couldn’t convince his mind to rest. His memories were too close to the surface. He lay in the darkness instead, listening to Spock breathe. 

“Jim.” Spock’s sudden voice spooked him. 

“Yes?” 

“You are unable to sleep.” 

Kirk huffed out a laugh. “Something like that.” He heard Spock shift, the sheets rustling against his sleep clothes. Then a long, hot arm snaked around his torso and pulled him backwards, until he was pressed with his back to Spock’s chest, Spock’s arm over his waist. 

“You find physical contact soothing,” Spock murmured, and his breath ghosted over Kirk’s ear. 

“But you don’t,” Kirk said. He should pull away, allow Spock his space, but---

“I do when it is you,” Spock said, and Kirk was shocked into silence. “I appreciate the confirmation that you are near and safe.” The warmth of Spock’s chest, the steady beating of his heart against Kirk’s spine, and his even breathing against his neck was doing more for him than Bones’s sedatives ever did. His eyelids grew heavy, and the whirling images through his mind slowed and dimmed, losing their sharp edges, as he breathed in time with Spock. 

“Rest now,” Spock said softly, and he did. 

[fandom-hoarder]

Considering OP is yelling at ppl to leave them alone when questioned on specifics because a post that says “the grooming in spn fandom is insane” (specifically Wincest) was “not a callout” and only “a legitimate safety concern” about “a space is known for well you know”, they are not worth the time. They also reacted very rudely to an anon who only wanted to apologize for following them (thinking that OP was anti Wincest and trying to respect OP’s boundaries). Just not worth it.

[I held onto this in my drafts for a day, but I think I'm just gonna publish it after all. Even though v did a much better job of addressing the op directly, imo, I'm not interacting with the op. I'm also going to gather screenshots in a posterity post, but it will likely be unrebloggable.]

Hmm, I debated publishing this ask, because I'm really just. So tired. And annoyed. And it's not a great combination for tact. Nevertheless...

I haven't seen the yelling myself, just avoidance and redirection. Flippancy. But maybe it's happening in a space I can't see, or between people I've blocked, idk. If so, it sounds a lot like it IS January 2023 redux 🙃🙃🙃 -- I HAVE seen it now, and my suspicion still stands, though still not 100%.

People need to stop making such serious accusations when they refuse to back it up. Words fucking mean things. Saying a certain sector of the fandom--that ostensibly you're also a part of?--has a problem with grooming and is stupid...that was NOT worded in a way to help people stay safe. It was worded like a vague callout post to scare people. We've seen those before. 🙄

A post that was actually concerned about grooming in online spaces *in general* would list some things to be aware of, things to recognize, tips for getting out of a situation. But no, it's this vaguepost without anything specific, with the one question in the notes asking for an explanation or if it's sarcasm-- unanswered [eta: well maybe they responded and I can't see it, since I realized I had op blocked]-- and one reblog from a person who claims it wasn't about wincesties specifically, when it demonstrably WAS??

So who is doing it, and where/how? I don't necessarily think it's a good idea to make public posts with names that devolve into personal beef and worse, but if someone is making the accusation that there's a grooming problem in the fandom they need to come with receipts or at the very least descriptions of the situation??

This isn't cutesy. You know exactly what anon is talking about, as shown later. Reblogging the post unaltered gives at least the appearance of agreeing with it as written.

This isn't to make light of! You reblogged it.

This isn't helpful.

If there was no one specific, why reblog a post specifically about the wincest fandom having insaneeee grooming? It wasn't "just in general." It's not a joke, yet this reply looks entirely unserious.

I am too old to keep seeing this type of shit go through the fandom at regular intervals, especially when it's so often a false accusation based on interpersonal drama. The only purpose this serves is riling up the dash. It's exhausting, and waters down the gravity of the accusation by making it a phrase that cries wolf.

I'm not even saying outright that the post is a LIE; just that it has seriously similar markers of past drama that was approximately 90% unaddressed purity culture biases about fiction, 9% interpersonal beef, and 1% actual concern for a human being who was an adult, but young. And it led to the utter gutting of fandom, loss of acquaintances, deletion of a glut of fic-- all due to smearing the reputation of a writer by using horrible UNTRUE AND INCENDIARY ACCUSATIONS.

So I'm sure many of you already understand why I take umbrage with these types of posts! Who knows if it's about fiction or something real? 🤷‍♀️

And since there's no further context to be found, the way it LOOKS on the dash is that someone is taking creeper!Dean too seriously. It could be about something else, but who knows.

[saitama-division]

Generations of Divisions II

2nd Part to this post because there are so many divisions that I hit the 50 mentions limit and couldn’t add anymore. These are based off when the blogs are created so please forgive me if I made a mistake.

9th Generation (Part 2) (June 2023 — December 2023)

Niigata Division: Valor Gaurd (Created September 20th, 2023) @niigata-division

Hamamatsu Division: Trickstar (Created October 12th, 2023) @hamamatsu-divison

Takatsuki Division (Redux): Fractured Eclipse (Created November 12th, 2023) @takatsuki-division

Arakawa Division: Sounds of Silence (Created November 15th, 2023) @arakawa-division

Roppongi Division: Private Party (Created December 9th, 2023) @roppongi-division

Kofu Division: Diabolik Night (Created December 11th, 2023) @kofu-division

Kitakyushu Division: VIVA ★ RIUM (Created December 13th, 2023) @kitakyushu-division (INACTIVE)

Kagoshima Division: SOUR BOMB (Redux) (Created December 21st, 2023) @kagoshima-division

Aichi Division: CLOUD 9 (Created December 21st, 2023) @aichi-division

Ōita Division: Jigoku Riderz (Created December 29th, 2023) @oita-division

10th Generation (January 2024 — April 2024)

Tokyo Division (Formerly Koto): DOBERS (Created January 1st, 2024) @tokyo-division (INACTIVE)

Fukuoka Division (2nd Team): OverDrive (Created January 5th, 2024) @fukuokanodivision

Kyoto Division: Starlight Specters (Redux) (Created January 6th, 2024) @kyoto-division

Adachi Division: Cutie Chaser (Created January 7th, 2024) @adachi-division

Obihiro Division: Veiled Vanguard (Created January 13th, 2024) @obihiro-division

Itabashi Division: Dar-K-Barett (Created March 3rd, 2024) @itabashi-division (INACTIVE)

Aomori Division: Howling Moon (Created April 6th, 2024) @aomori-division

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

2023 Fandom Year in Review

I'm a bit late on this because I kept being busy, but here! I probably forgot a bunch of stuff in my answers - c'est la vie.

✨Dollsome’s Fandom Year in Review!✨

Favorite new (to me) shows of the year:

Rectify

Joe Pera Talks With You

Reservation Dogs

Dave

The Righteous Gemstones

The Gilded Age

The Buccaneers

Beef

Somebody Somewhere

Vice Principals

Feel Good

Creamerie

Colin From Accounts

Poker Face

Favorite shows with new episodes this year:

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH!!!!!!!!!! 🏴‍☠️💘

Good Omens

Succession

Ted Lasso (kind of? 🫤)

What We Do In The Shadows

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

The Great

Abbott Elementary

Sanditon

The Nevers

Black Mirror

Some favorite TV show episodes watched for the first time this year (one per show! Just for a challenge!):

Our Flag Means Death - 2.04 “Fun and Games”

What We Do in The Shadows - 5.05 “Local News”

The Great 3.07 “Fun”

Succession - 4.09 “Church and State”

Ted Lasso - 3.10 “International Break”

Good Omens - 2.05 “The Ball”

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel - 5.06 “The Testi-Roastial”

Beef - 1.10 “Figures of Light”

Dave - 3.10 “Looking for Love”

Reservation Dogs - 2.04 “Mabel”

Black Mirror - 6.05 “Demon 79”

Joe Pera Talks With You - 2.01 - “Joe Pera Talks With You About Beans” and 2.04 “Joe Pera Guides You Through The Dark” (Cheating and picking two because the episodes are so short!)

Favorite books read this year:

The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe, Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh, Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton, Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

Favorite song, album, or artist to listen to this year:

I discovered this album a few years late because I got tickets to a concert by them this year, but Bitter Better by Laura Cortese & The Dance Cards! I also loved Guts by Olivia Rodrigoooooo. 

My favorite song is “Misbehavin’” from Righteous Gemstones, a bop like NO OTHER.

Favorite movies of the year:

No Hard Feelings, Saltburn, Barbie, M3GAN, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Rye Lane, Next Goal Wins, Quiz Lady, Eileen, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, Cocaine Bear 🤣

First fandom of the year:

In January I had a major Jurassic Park/World resurgence wherein I watched all the Lego Jurassic World shows about Claire and Owen on Netflix and also read all of Tess Sharpe’s tie-in novels, while also feeling nine zillion feelings about Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler on the side because they are THE movie otp. I regret none of this, it was fun as hell.

Best new fandom discovery of the year:

The Gilded Age. I can’t believe I was living without Bertha and George Russell, and Julian Fellowes’ extremely stupid yet incomparably enchanting writing, for so long.

Biggest fandom disappointment of the year:

Ted and Rebecca not happening and also not getting nearly as much significant screentime together as I wanted. 😭 That one hurt me real hard, even though I always kind of saw it coming. I somehow just knew all the way back in season 1 that it was too wonderful and refreshing to happen. But even more disappointing to me was Keeley and Roy not getting back together. (And the fake-out of them seeming to get back together and then not really doing so. Ouch!) I wish they hadn’t broken up at all! That whole plotline gets a million thumbs downs from me. It made me feel so, so bad inside, a badness that never healed.

Honorary mention: Roman and Gerri’s last ever interaction getting deleted from 4.09!!!!!!! FERAL SCREAM!!!!!

I also really didn’t like what they did with Orlo’s character in s3 of The Great.

Biggest squee moments of the year:

(I can’t possibly narrow ‘em down well but let’s try.)

Like the entirety of OFMD season two, but I’ll narrow it down with great restraint to Mermaid Stede, the conversation on the sofa in “Fun and Games,” and the “You wear fine things well” redux kiss.

Roman watching Gerri recite the limerick and being besotted! Gerri caring about Roman with her eyeballs at the funeral! Roman’s Gerri tribute martini! Gerri smiling at Roman making fun of Greg that one time even though he didn’t know she was! It was a rough season, okay!

Guillermo dancing in the Pride Parade episode! Nandor always knowing that Guillermo didn’t have what it took to be a vampire and helping him become human again! The vampires doing the news!

Old ladies Midge and Susie making each other laugh at the end of TMMM! What a perfect way to go out.

Rebecca spitting her tea in Ted’s face in an act of fond vengeance. I really thought we were so happening after that one, mates! (And that moment in the hallway! And the Ted’s A Work In Progmess scene! Everything that made it feel like it might be happening!!!)

I also squeed during the Morning After Ted In Rebecca’s Kitchen Fakeout until I was dashed back down upon the rocks of cruel reality. Congratulations, show: I 100% fell for it. (Though part of that was because the people watching with me were like, “Wow, congratulations! It happened!” as if I had somehow personally willed it into happening. And you know I would have if I could have!)

Crowley and Aziraphale’s big scene at the end of Good Omens. It was a squee moment tinged with terrible pain, but such a squee moment nonetheless!

Also, Aziraphale’s “Smitten, I believe” lil’ look/remark. Will delight me forever.

Gregory and Janine kissing on Abbott Elementary! The flowers!!!!!!

Kelvin and Keefe’s first kiss (finally!) on The Righteous Gemstones!

Also on The Righteous Gemstones: Judy and BJ walking into the party to “Dance Hall Days” while BJ is rocking his shorts-romper ensemble. A moment that simply stunned me!

The end of the first episode (I think?) of Beef where “The Reason” by Hoobastank is playing specifically in the context of, I just found my nemesis whose life I’m going to make a misery. That made me so happy.

Seeing the Doctor and Donna Noble together again!

Favorite Main Character of the Year:

Catherine from The Great. Season three was such a tour de force for Elle Fanning, and I just loved every note of her character’s journey! I’m so bummed that we won’t get to see what happens to her next and I’m going to miss that performance and that character so much. 😢 She is INCREDIBLE!

Favorite Villain of the Year:

The briefly-seen Logan Roy, and the way he haunted his kids and kept tearing them apart after he died, and yet they still stared at him with such love and fondness and longing in that video in the finale and then proceeded to try to tear each other to shreds because that’s what he raised them to do. AAAH!

Favorite m/f couple of the year:

Gotta be RomanGerri. Good lord, what a time we had!

Runner-up: George and Bertha Russell, the morally questionable marrieds of my dreams.

Favorite f/f couple of the year:

I loved Midge/Susie with all my heart and rambled weirdly about them being Luke/Lorelai in (slightly) different clothes for the entire run of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, from the pilot being in that pilots contest onwards (remember that??). So it was just so wonderful and satisfying to have their relationship so loved on in the last season. And to get some canon ‘Susie is in love with Midge’ vibes going on, aaah! (Midge is in love with Susie, too. To me.)

Runner-up: Anne and Mary on Our Flag Means Death. I know they were only there for one episode but I’m god damn obsessed with them and will always dream of seeing them again in hypothetical s3. Staying at Ed and Stede’s inn? Swashbuckling into their lives on the high seas, possibly wearing other people’s faces? I will take ANYTHING!!! They ARE love and romance!!!!!!!!

Favorite m/m couple of the year:

Ed/Stede!!!!!!!! They came back to me!!!!!!! They were so in love and so deranged about it in so many moments that were absolute bangers!!!!!!!!! It was a total dream come true and I will never love another season of television quite in the way that I love season two of OFMD!!!!!!!!!

Also Crowley and Aziraphale, hoo boy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what season two did to us as a society!!!! It was spectacular and I loved every minute of my deranged feelings.

And Nandermo always always always, and more with every season. Sorry, WWDITS showrunner dude!

Favorite fictional friendship of the year:

I really enjoyed getting to see Mabel and Oliver and Charles again in Only Murders in the Building season three! And the Rez Dogs in Reservation Dogs, which I finally watched! And the return of the Doctor and Donna to finish off the year!

Also, this doesn’t totally count as friendship per se, but George obstinately pretending to be Catherine’s bestie for self-preservation reasons in season three of The Great was riveting at every second and I was obsessed with it.

Your fictional boyfriend of the year?:

Edward Teach, going through every single human emotion and being so god damn beautiful doing it! 🥹

Your fictional girlfriend of the year?:

Gerri Kellman, my love, my light, THE stone-cold killer bitch of all time. 👑👑👑

Fandom that you never expected to get into:

I guess I never expected to get AS into Succession as I did. But somehow that final season really hit the exact vibe of ‘Your dreams could come true but they never will’ that absolutely and lastingly obsessed me.

Fandom that made an unexpected comeback:

Community, I guess? I’ve been really fixated on Community since our rewatch was begun! I always forget exactly HOW obsessed and emotionally invested I am until I am watching it again. And then I’m left in an abyss of feelios.

Fandom that inspired the most crack:

Oh, it’s gotta be Succession. That’s the only way to engage with Succession.

Last fandom of the year:

As mentioned: I am currently very in my Community feels due to my rewatch! Oh, does this show ever dwell in a tender and sweet place in my heart.

Overall favorite fandoms of the year:

Succession, Good Omens, OFMD

Your main fandom of the year:

Oh, gosh. Is it Succession?? I feel like the three above all got some major attention, but Succession might have been stretched out over the longest amount of time. Just, y’know. All that trying to recover!

The most missed of your old fandoms:

My year was definitely too Gilmore Girls lite for my liking! I also already miss Ted Lasso and simply insist that they make a fourth season. Even if they have to do it without Ted anymore 😢, I could dream of Roy and Keeley getting back together and see Rebecca and Nate and Higgins and Beard and the team and all my buddies again. I just feel like season three did not feel like an ending season and there’s still so much more juice in that ensemble.

Fandom resolutions for next year:

Just keep having a jolly time! Maybe watch less TV. Be more discerning in choosing which TV shows to watch so that there are more free hours in my day.

Fandom predictions for next year:

I predict Ted Lasso is going to come back in some form. It wasn’t over! It still isn’t over!! (I know if this happens it probably won’t include Ted, but wouldn’t it be hilarious if the desperate dream of Ted/Rebecca was suddenly back on? And by ‘hilarious’, I mean ‘everything to me’?)

I’m still quietly predicting the Killing Eve fix-it movie. I know it won’t happen, that Jodie and Sandra have moved on, but I’m dreaming of it anyway. And dreams can come true!

I predict that Jeff and Annie will finally get to be in love in the Community movie if it comes out. I am just choosing optimism and sweetness in this moment. I am choosing to believe.

In that vein: I predict that OFMD season three will exist!

I predict that Hugh Grant and Colin Firth will finally make a romcom together as the love interests. WHY NOT. IT'S TIME.

[grims-local-pkmn-irl-hub]

🎙️ what made you get into pokemon irl?

a combination of several things just lining up perfectly to get me to where i am:

my old special interest of like five years fucking tanked (it was an old minecraft rp youtube group known as the origins crew if anybody knows of them but yeah my special interest in their rps exploded because the group disbanded)

scarlet and violet released

i finally got a switch and got to actually play scarlet alongside getting shield AND legends arceus

my pkmn special interest from when i was like 12 was reignited

from there pokemon stuff just started to slowly drift into my tumblr sphere which included on Rodney RealPokemon’s posts which introduced me to the community

and on january 6th, 2024 pre-redux espers blog was created (redux esper still uses that blog though obviously i wasnt making a new one when i couldve just repurposed it)

-> ask game

[euroquision]

Creative or Copycat: The SloMo Dancebreak

Three countries came to the 2023 competition with a SloMo-inspired dancebreak to share with the world. Whether you're a fan or not of these songs, my question applies to all of them: Are these dancebreaks a creative take on Chanel's trend? Or are they lackluster copycats? Let's find out in the latest EuroQuision essay!

Written and Researched by Beatrice Quinn

They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. I, for one, consider large sums of riches or compliments about my cheekbones more flattering, thank you. In Eurovision, however, sharing truly is caring as it is no secret to anyone that trends, ideas, staging elements, and even songs themselves are imitated amongst countries the following years – for better and for worse. Should any country pull off anything impressive that manages to have a lasting impact on the viewers, be prepared to see redo’s, redux, and remixes of that very same idea. If you thought the visuals of Mans’ ‘lil balloon child army was “neat,” be prepared for one loud Russian man to get sent hurtling through the depths of space while somehow still inside an arena in Sweden. If this reference means something to you: cool! Please stick around for a later edition of this series where I talk about how 2016 was plagued with “Heroes”-VFX ripoffs. For this first edition of “Creative or Copycat,” we’re gonna watch some dance moves in slow mo-mo-mo, and decide whether the decadent dancebreaks of Eurovision 2023 were creative or copycats.

Where were you when Chanel first performed “SloMo” at Benidorm Fest on January 26th, 2022? After having had access to the songs for Spain’s golden goose egg of a National Final since Dec. 21st, 2021. In that month, fans were treated to early standouts like Tanxugueiras’ “TERRA,” Rigoberta’s “Ay Mama,” and Rayden’s “Calle de la lloreria.” Of the 14 total songs, there was a dembow pop gem called “SloMo” by debut-artist Chanel. Previously a regular face in the Spanish musical theater scene, the Cuban-born singer’s song was catchy, fun, and quite the earworm. However, the song itself sonically didn’t stand out as other selections. Without visuals, it was easy for many fans to overlook Chanel’s potential. By no means did people hate her song – until she did well in Eurovision, but that’s a different essay – but it simply didn’t get as much “hype” as some other songs did. That was, until the first live show…

Chanel takes to Havana-esque stage and begins what can only be described as a meticulously staged, choreographed, and executed ensemble dance routine to what is still just a solo female pop song. As she interacts with the drop-dead-gorgeous dancers around her, we launch into the first chorus. As we’re hit with the “mo-mo-mo” of the chorus, the lights strobe to create an attempt at a “slo-mo” effect before the dance resumes with impressive synchronicity. Chanel continues to dominate all corners of the stage, letting her hair down and repeating the same dance routine as the second chorus hits us. Now remember: for the last month we had only been hearing this song where the second chorus just repeats the same words identically once more; not a very creative direction, but it’s fine, I guess. So as the song gears up to continue as expected, Chanel’s jacket comes off and the music drops. Before you have any moment to prepare, Chanel and her dancers whip their entire upper bodies to the floor and back up as the most impeccable, well-oiled, show-stopping dance break captures our attention and doesn’t let go until Chanel has gone from shaking every angle of her body, collapsing to the floor, high-kicking, flipping her hair some more, and getting back up before singing the rest of the motherfuckin’ song.

So. It was unsurprising when Chanel won the jury vote and ended up winning Benidorm Fest and taking “SloMo” to Eurovision. But now there was an issue presented: Chanel surprised us by saving the dancebreak until the last minute, ensuring that people who had already been listening to the song were surprised with something new, while the dancebreak on its own was still thrilling enough to capture the attention of first-time viewers. But now everyone has seen the dancebreak, and really I mean seen it. Every ESC Pre-party, on Instagram, TikTok, Chanel’s publicity team was going nutso in the buttso with this dance. How was it still going to impress come the night of the Grand Final? Surely would it not have worn itself out? Lucky for the viewing audience, Chanel proved to still have more to give on the night of the final. No, it sadly wasn’t a super-secret-surprise 2nd dancebreak, but there were sparks falling from the ceiling, a fan being tossed across the stage, a new vocal run, and new choreo for Chanel herself where she proceeds to do another vocal run while being dipped.

Naturally, this impressed juries and televoters alike and placed it right up on the podium with a flashy bronze medal. And the success didn’t stop there: on Dec. 31st, 2022, “SloMo” dethroned “Euphoria” [SWE’12] at #1 on the Eurovision Top 250 – the annual radio show where everyone around the world votes on every ESC song in existence – which hadn’t placed lower than #1 since its victory in 2012. So why am I using two full pages and some change of my article to sing the praises of Chanel like she was the second coming of Christ? Because she may as well have been! Spain went from colonizing the Americas to colonizing the Bottom 5 of Eurovision finals ever since they started qualifying for said-final. Out of the 19 editions of ESC Spain has been in since the introduction of semis, 12 of those were in the Btm. 5, with one being dead last in ‘17. Compare that to their Top 10 finishes: a whopping 3. Then: in a brand new National Final format, a Cuban-born singer takes her debut single to ESC and get Spain on the podium. Spain couldn’t even get back in the Top 10 for nearly a decade without getting an artist from a land they colonized, performing a song in a genre of the country Spain colonized–

"Hello!"

"My name is Lynda Woodruff, and I’m the official spokesperson of the EBU. I’m here to remind you all, along with Ms. Beaches Quilt, that Eurovision is a non-political song contest. Now, back to EuroQuizzin– EuroQuestion– Quision! EuroQuision."

Sigh.

Lynda, you get a pass because you’re universally loveable. But we’re not gonna pretend that an international song contest with audiences and artists from countries that have significant histories of geopolitical conflicts, while also at most times actively having geopolitical conflicts, sometimes with other competing countries, is somehow “apolitical.”

However, Spain and colonization isn’t what we’re here for. We’re here to remind ourselves why this is called The SloMo Dancebreak. This is by far not the first dancebreak in this contest’s history, but this song’s dancebreak is associated with a legacy, a redemption after taking a risk and crafting an amazing live performance featuring a stellar new artist. And on top of that, what did we get in 2023? A whopping three acts that contain what we can qualify as a SloMo Dancebreak, and thus we get to decipher: was it creative or copycat?

Ok I promise: I’ll shut up about SloMo after this and talk about 2023. You’ve been so great and so patient, get yourself a treat. I’ll give you a sec.

*waits patiently*

Got a snack?...Great! So the last thing we need to get in writing is what actually “characterizes” the SloMo dancebreak. Like I said, people have danced here before. Other than the legacy and why people like it so much, what’s unique about the SloMo dancebreak/what rules a SloMo or non-SloMo dancebreak? And this is what I love about the concept of “rules” in Eurovision is that there are none – other than the legal ones and ones the producers make up and other rules thereof. But in a spiritual sense, there are no “rules.” Therefore, some rules can be bent and reconstructed. Anyway, my general rule about what makes a SloMo Dancebreak is its essence, and the execution of said dancebreak is up for interpretation. If we were to look at the SloMo dancebreak structurally and how it works in the song, the break itself occurs around the metaphorical 3/4ths point of the song. That is, typically: after the 2nd chorus and either during/part of or in place of the bridge, all occurring before the final chorus. Performance-wise, a SloMo dancebreak is when the lead artist is the unobstructed focal point of the dancebreak. Additionally, the dancebreak is intended to be a noticeable break from lyrics/lead vocals, as Chanel performs no “vocals” during her break. Another important note is that the SloMo dancebreak was not a solo, even though Chanel was the focal point. She had her heavily-involved backup dancers all up in her business from start to finish; her dancebreak was like the one moment where it was just mostly Chanel herself in focus. What comes with this is a certain attitude about the dancebreak – remember how this is more essence than execution. SloMo’s dancebreak commands attention, performing choreography that at minimum looks very impressive to the Eurovision audience, and typically carries a sense of “Should I stunt on the hoes? I think I’m gonna stunt on the hoes.”

So! Are we all agreed on why this dancebreak is significant and what qualifies it? Amazing! Then let’s get to our three acts in question. The SloMo Dancebreaks of Eurovision 2023 are, as I’m sure you already know:

“Solo” [POL] by Blanka

“Unicorn” [ISR] by Noa Kirel

“Future Lover” [ARM] by Brunette

And while I hope this reminder goes for every article I publish, keep in mind I will genuinely attempt to be as objective as possible. In theory, that’s what all of these articles are about: objective deconstruction of Eurovision songs/acts. While I can and will happily share personal opinions where I think appropriately/most comically advantageous, the topic at hand is one that I think merits detail, context, and scrutiny no matter my personal preferences. With that being said, we’ll start by going alphabetically by country. So let’s all decide to be good, do good, and look good with “Future Lover.”

PART I: FUTURE LOVER

After 2022, where a simple folk pop song that finished 20th landed on the fast track to soon hit a billion Spotify streams, Armenia had quite the shoes to fill. Instead of trying the same thing twice, “SNAP” and “Future Lover” are jarringly different songs, especially in the case of composition. Even compared to the 2023 line-up as a whole, Brunette’s dynamic ballad about the anxieties, insecurities, and passionate wants about love is scored with an orchestra that creates a truly dynamic journey through just three minutes. Chilling vocals over a solitary piano soon becomes a soundscape of strings, light percussion, and a noticeable build that ends up thrusting us into a spoken-word verse. Not only is this a unique song for 2023, this is unique in comparison to many Eurovision songs of recent years. On top of this, Brunette is alone on stage while singing atop of a flat, angled, white pane as projected lights and graphics transform the pane into a morphing panel or lights and images. All of this put together creates a truly unique and memorable Eurovision entry, but I know what you’re thinking:

"Where's the dancebreak?"

Well don’t worry! Even though the song in studio/the music video was released without any such dancebreaks, so when Brunette put down her microphone and the song momentarily dropped, audiences were in for a surprise as she began what I personally describe as an abstract contemporary dancebreak. Important note: while I do my best to take it upon myself to research the cultural relevance behind many Eurovision entries, I am not an expert on everything! So, if there’s any cultural context behind Brunette’s choreo, anyone who knows more than myself is free to let me know!

Whether or not you were wondering, hoping, or jonesing for a dancebreak, we got one! Let’s compare and contrast, shall we? Brunette’s dancebreak is similar to Chanel’s in its location in the song, at about the 3/4ths marker. It contains no lyrics (other than amorphous “Oh-oh’s” we’ve already heard) and served to us by Brunette with a distinct “Stunting on the hoes” vibe from her commanding eye-work and fluidity in her routine. Her moves also bring her from standing positions, down to the floor, and back up by the end, similar to Chanel’s choreo. Taking another page out of the dancebreak handbook, Brunette’s dancebreak was kept a secret until the live performance, which we didn’t see until Eurovision itself as opposed to Spain’s NF. The dancebreaks of each song are even the same length: 8 measures of music/8 counts of 4. Of course we can’t overlook the glaring differences. Noticeably, Brunette is all by herself on stage with her emotional-support ambiguous white panel. No sexy backup dancers are there to lift Brunette off the ground and perform other such tasks that Chanel’s team did for her. Brunette’s dance also does not come after a 2nd chorus; “Future Lover” has a slightly unique form in that the song goes Verse - Chorus - Verse - Dance/Bridge - Final Chorus, so simply there’s no 2nd chorus to be found. In my opinion, putting a dancebreak into a song that already has an unconventional structure and exists in a genre that’s much more ethereal ballad than pop power is a risky move, despite it being an enjoyable dancebreak regardless. Another risk Armenia took was the fact that there’s multiple instances during the dancebreak where the screen goes dark and obscures Brunette’s dancing; something that “SloMo” does not do.

Perhaps this is what kept Armenia away from a higher result overall. Coming 12th and 13th in the jury and televote, respectively, this may not have had the same success as Spain had the year prior because “Future Lover” by all accounts is just so much more unconventional for the choices it’s making. It already exists as a song that’s hard to dance to, and doesn’t seem like it would be enhanced by a dancebreak. This is one of the biggest factors as to what makes this dance creative or copycat: does it enhance the performance in any meaningful way? It’s also very important to note that something doesn’t need to be “necessary” to enhance the act. This is Eurovision, people; if we start asking “But is this necessary?” we’ll undo the very fabric of Eurovision. Australia has a DeLorean on stage, Austria is singing about Edgar Allen Poe, and I have seen more elderly Croatian men in their underwear than I ever anticipated seeing in my life; none of this is “necessary,” and that’s why we love Eurovision. Moving on.

“Future Lover” is a very hard one to decipher. A good result does not make one dancebreak better than the other if we’re just trying to judge the dancebreak itself and how it functions in the song/performance. In the case of Armenia, I would argue Brunette’s dancebreak is a creative interpretation of the SloMo Dancebreak. Nothing about Chanel’s performance felt like it was copy-pasted into “Future Lover,” and Brunette herself is clearly a capable and confident dancer. The song already being unconventional can be a risk to appeal to juries and televoters for different reasons, but that didn’t stop Brunette from adding some creative and unexpected flare to the performance. In my thoughtful opinion, I could’ve seen Armenia finishing Top 10 with juries, but alas, the points given have been given. Ultimately, what I think saves “Future Lover” from being a copycat dancebreak is the fact that it is a song that attempts to create a dancebreak unique to the song and performer; there aren’t many other songs and dancebreaks that sound/look like “Future Lover.”

RESULT: CREATIVE!

PART II: UNICORN

Free Palestine.

Anyway! With the important business out of the way, let’s talk about Israel’s song. And no, I’m not gonna waste your time asking you if “you wanna see me” talk about my Eurovision hyperfixation for another essay. You’re already here, you’re already on part two, I know you wanna see me talk about Eurovision. However, if I were to ask you three times if you wanted to read my article, I wouldn’t be surprised if you just said no. Anyway, I’ll touch on this lil bit soon. Let’s talk about the song!

I need to begin by talking about the musical horse in the room which is the fact that “Unicorn” is clearly three different songs stitched together, three songs I call “DNA,” “Watch Me,” and finally “Unicorn.” These songs exist within three different parts of the song. “DNA” are verses one and two, including the earworm of “Phenomen- Phenomen- Phenomenal.” “Watch Me” is my nicer name for the dancebreak section, as the first draft name “Black Pink Is Calling Their Lawyers” was too wordy. Lastly, “Unicorn” itself exists in the chorus where the lyrical simile of “stand[ing] like a Unicorn” occurs. While the dissection of “Unicorn” could/probably will be an essay all on its own, I promise you this is important. To give you the SparkNotes edition, here’s what makes me think “Unicorn” is three different songs:

Musically: the instrumentation of the verses, choruses, and dancebreak are all almost completely different. The verses have an electronic composition beat with crisp, punchy music that has no connection or transition into the sudden power ballad it becomes in the chorus. This difference is especially jarring considering that “real” instruments are used in the chorus primarily, whereas the verses have some percussive string instruments here and there as embellishments. The dancebreak is the most egregious offense where this sudden electronic build comes out of nowhere and uses a meter/beat that we haven’t yet heard and could not sound more different from the chorus if it tried. The song jumps genres and compositions with no connecting motifs or callbacks.

Lyrically: We start by singing about our DNA and if you’re gonna do it (spoiler: don’t do it). Then we start singing about…unicorns? And how they stand? And the power of said unicorn? My point here being: the lyrics of the verses and the chorus literally have nothing to do with each other. In verses about writing a new book and how phenomenal it will be, we go back to these comparisons to a unicorn that don’t really mean anything. “I got the power of a unicorn.” What “powers” does a unicorn have? Jesus I’m tired.

So what does this have to do with the dancebreak? I’ll finish explaining once we do a quick compare and contrast. These two dancebreaks are more similar than “Future Lover” was to “SloMo.” No main vocals, a small costume change/reveal, lead act supported by attractive and skilled dancers, the hoes and their impending stunting, and many dance moves that involve impressive stretching and posing of various limbs. However, “Unicorn” goes to numerous lengths to differentiate itself from “SloMo” by doing things such as announcing the dancebreak before it begins; again, the offer seems pretty hollow given the fact that you’re probably gonna start dancing even though I’ve given you a clear “NO” in response. The dancebreak also falls at a notably different point in the song: the end! When you look at the time stamps of the song, Noa stops “singing” at 2:15, meaning the last 45 seconds of that 3-minute Eurovision window has her not singing at all. 45 whole seconds! So where the SloMo break lasts 8 counts of 4, “Unicorn” (starting from “Watch me” and not “You wanna see me dance” because, well, she’s not dancing yet) lasts a whopping 16 counts of 4; literally twice as long as the break in “SloMo.” The routine itself, once you’ve watched it upwards of twelve times like I have (because I take my research seriously, dammit!) you begin to notice these dance moves are more akin to…poses?

Roll with me here: the dancebreak starts, Noa hits that impressive backbend into a frontwards drop, bringing her to the stage floor. So naturally, her next set of moves consist of a backwards roll, some yoga-like poses where she continues to impress with her control by lifting her legs and kicking, then whipping her hair in time with the beat of the song. Up to this point, I’m genuinely impressed. Then, she hits what is literally a downward-facing dog position, and then goes back down onto her knees and slides to the floor to do the splits over her own body. So I don’t think it’s totally unreasonable for a viewer to at this point start to think “Yeah this is really cool, but like, there’s not so much dancing going on.” Then once poor Noa is finally allowed to stand upright, her dancers join back in and they perform a series of synchronized moves to the “U-NI-CORN!” blasting into our ears. So why are we suddenly in this new genre with a new rhythm, new instrumentation, and new pacing while Noa performs a series of admittedly challenging moves but are ultimately glorified “poses.” Also: an assisted backflip at the end? Another thing I didn’t ask for.

So as you can see, “Unicorn” is not an easy one to pin down. Going back to my analysis of the song and how disjointed it feels, I think the dancebreak itself is the most alienating way to end this song, especially because we don’t hear Noa sing literally anything else after she starts dancing. The fact that we’ve just dealt with two sets of verses and choruses that sound like two different songs, this Black Pink homage dancebreak looks flashy but doesn’t actually provide character or flavor to the song as a whole. It brings ah flavor, yes, but I don’t know what I’ve been tasting for the last 2 minutes and 15 seconds, I don’t know what I’m tasting now. Therefore, I shall be labeling “Unicorn” as a hybrid creative copycat. It is definitely creative in the sense that it didn’t attempt to do the same exact thing “SloMo” did in terms of execution, song style, dance style, etc etc. However, what makes it also part copycat is the fact that I don’t know why or how this dancebreak even made it into this song. To me, it almost feels as if the dancebreak was something they knew they wanted to do from the beginning, but then wrote a song that didn’t have natural space for a dancebreak. So they then compressed the verses and choruses to the first 2/3rds of the song and slapped the dance in at the end and called it a day. This reads as fairly inauthentic and ill-considered. Compare this to “Future Lover” and how yes, that song also didn’t “need” a dancebreak, but remember: necessity does not dictate something working or not working. “Future Lover” carved out a natural space and time within the song to create a dancebreak that sonically fits in with the rest of the song and provides a solid build of momentum to the final chorus. “Unicorn” and their K-Pop-influenced dance (which was more posing than anything) sticks out like a sore thumb and attempts to distract from that by being incredibly flashy.

RESULT: CREATIVE COPYCAT

Anyway, creative copycat is what I’m stickin’ with. I’ve already wasted enough of my own time listening to and watching this song several times over. Please tell me I don’t have anything worse waiting for me after this song—

PART III: SOLO

Son of a BITCH--

“Solo” is a song. By definition. And I too found myself asking the wrong question of “Why is this dancebreak here? Was it really needed?” a couple times. And in full transparency, yes: Poland is 37th in my ranking of 2023. However! Let the record here and now show that I will attempt to give this dancebreak a fair shot just as I did for the two prior. In fact, let’s start with a guessing game! I’m going to list out some key characteristics about a dancebreak, and it’s up to you to guess if I’m talking about “SloMo” or “Solo”! Ready? Go! GUESS! THAT! DANCEBREAK!

This dancebreak in question starts with a costume change/reveal and the lead performer flips her hair vivaciously. The music of this dancebreak is nearly entirely percussion; drums, rhythmic clapping, and maybe including one or two musical highlights that exist elsewhere in the song. There’s a quick one-two beat where the dancer thrusts a part of her body in time with the beat, the dancebreak lasts for 8 counts of 4, and it ends with the lead performer being handed her mic from a backup dancer. So now you guess: which dancebreak am I talking about?

…Got a guess? WRONG, it’s: both of them. Here’s the thing: initially I was going to start with a compare and contrast list like I’ve been doing, but I quickly realized that this is all “compare” and no “contrast.” The only thing that might noticeably be different is that Blanka is doing significantly less dancing than Chanel was. This is not an attempt to say that Blanka can’t dance or wasn’t dancing at all. I saw her up there in those heels hitting some moves, she definitely danced. But did she stunt on them hoes? While Chanel was going from upright and down to the floor and back up again, Blanka had no moves that were anywhere near as complex or physically demanding as Chanel. Meanwhile, everything else seems lifted right out of “SloMo” and given an off-orange coat of spray paint and messily slapped together. For fuck’s sake, one song is called “SloMo” and the other is “Solo.” The names literally rhyme and use the same letters, minus a singular “M.” I know, I promised I would be fair and objective about this analysis, but I’m also genuinely just working with the information I’ve been given. If I close my eyes and just listen to the dancebreak, it sounds like I’m listening to a demo of “SloMo.” And if I open my eyes to the onslaught of on-screen effects Poland is treating me to, I see what I interpret as an intermediate backup dancer version of “SloMo.” This dancebreak is almost unapologetically a copycat of “SloMo.”

RESULT: COPYCAT

I’m almost sad that this is the shortest section of the three analyses, but sadly it’s just the most obvious offender. I’ll end this section by sharing two things. First: I don’t harbor any hatred or resentment towards Blanka, she’s just a performer doing what I’m sure is her best. My disappointment is at the greater picture of Poland in Eurovision and how I feel they have incredibly unique things to offer, just like they have in the past. We don’t need this kind of thing from Poland or any other country for that matter. Second: in the second verse, I had always heard the lyric “Bet you regret how” as “Bet you’re a Grey Hound” and I didn’t realize that until the writing of this essay. In my defense, the next line goes “What goes around comes around” which actually rhymes. Whereas “how” and “around” are near rhymes, “hound” is a perfect rhyme, that’s all I’m saying.

PART IV: CONCLUSION

So there we have it. Three different dancebreaks, three different results. I think it would be most helpful to end this essay with re-examining why this question of “creative or copycat” exists, specifically in relation to something like the SloMo Dancebreak. Trends and the recreation of them have always been and forever will be core to the essence of Eurovision. In the process of uniting Europe through music and participating in a cultural exchange, countries trying to put their own spin on successful trends will be inevitable. So let this certainty be a reminder that simply trying to emulate a trend or anything of the sort is never an inherently bad thing. It is not something to be looked down upon or just labeled as unoriginal without thought or consideration. Inside every Eurovision song and performance exists artistic value and intention, to varying degrees, and that is what should decide whether emulating a trend is a positive or negative thing.

If I could somehow magically communicate this message to the artists and delegations of not only Armenia/Israel/Poland, but to all Eurovision competitors, it would be this: Following a trend will simply never be enough. What proves most effective is doing something that elevates and enhances the performance. Despite the fact I think Israel’s dancebreak is a “creative copycat,” I also can’t deny that it objectively did its job the best out of the three we’ve discussed here. But this is also another flawed line of thinking: If a song got a good result, that must mean it did everything creatively, right? Not always! One day when I make a “Unicorn” deconstruction essay, I’ll elaborate on my theory that the song did so well because it’s the most “Eurovision Movie”-sounding of all the 2023 songs, but I digress. Until that essay, thank you for joining me in another EuroQuision think piece! Truly hope this one was phenomen- phenomen- phenomenal for you all to read.