#but it is an inevitability because the star trek people are very aware of it at this point

[daftmooncretin]

listen, they are never going to stop making star trek shows. So i know if i bide my time and wait like 10-20 years there will eventually be a star trek show where kirk and spock are a gay couple. there is only so long they can beat the gay spock allegations down with a stick thats all im saying.

#im playing the long game #the long gay game #this is not me saying its gonna happen in snw because its not going to guys give up #but it is an inevitability because the star trek people are very aware of it at this point #they have spirk as a back up for when they run out of ideas and want our gay moneu #star trek tos #star trek #st snw #spirk #spock

[dduane]

Hi Diane! I’ve been a huge fan of your Star Trek work for years (and will now be investigating your original fiction I wasn’t previously aware of) and am absolutely thrilled to find you have an active blog.

I did a cursory search through your tags but didn’t see anything answering this so forgive me if you’ve already gone over this, but how do you go about publishing work that belongs to an already established franchise like Star Trek? Is it just through the publisher? Do you go to some branch of Paramount/CBS and get their approval for the story content? I’d love to know the process. I’m assuming with all the new Star Trek content these days, and CBS locking down on what’s “canon”, it’s probably more difficult to get a one off novel published using their IP anymore. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this (or be directed to a post where you’ve already explained).

Thank you for all your wonderful work!

You're very welcome! I hope you find my original work at least as enjoyable as the Trek.  :)

Re the business of working with an established franchise: yep, we've dealt with that here before, every now and then. But the tagging has been (admittedly) uneven. So let me just come at it again. :) (Always adding the note that this is how I did it, back in the day, and the methods or pathways of access may have changed.)

...So how did I get to be a published Star Trek novelist?

(adding a cut here, because this is a long one)

I am a first-generation Star Trek fan. I fell in love with ST:TOS* as soon as it premiered, and immediately started writing fanfic in that universe. (It should be mentioned here that—a couple/few decades before the days of widespread internet-connectedness—not only did I have no idea that other people were doing something very similar, but I had no idea it even had a name. I was writing all alone, in a vacuum, with no support whatsoever… but however accidentally, I’d discovered something invaluable: it made me happy. We’ll come back to this later.)

So. Time went by and I slid from that genre of fanfic-writing into writing fic that was much more Tolkienian in genre, and from there, into writing original fiction that Tolkien would have found, well, rather different. Cutting another longish story short, in 1978/9 I sold and had published my first novel, this one—the initial volume in the LGBTQ-and-poly-ish Tale of the Five / Middle Kingdoms series that would later get me nominated two years running for the Astounding Award for best new writer in the SF/fantasy field.

Now when something like this happens to you, it gets a lot easier to pitch new novels to people. I’m not just talking about the increased attention that awards and nominations bring you. But just having a traditionally-published book out tells other potential publishers that you’ve mastered at least some important aspects of the novelist business: (a) being able to conceive of a plot that will sustain a novel-length work, (b) being able to go from concept to starting in on a novel, © being able to finish a novel, and (d) being able to cope with the editorial process—handling suggested edits, dealing with a copyedited manuscript, dealing with proofs, etc etc.

As it happens, while I was dealing with the sequelae to publishing The Door Into Fire—meaning the inevitable question “And what are you going to do next?”—I'd also been doing some typing for an acquaintance who was typewriter-challenged. They were writing a Star Trek novel. And I have to say that what I was typing up for them was giving me hives. It was…not anything like what I thought a Star Trek novel should look like. I remember saying to a friend or two, on the quiet, “I could eat a ream of typing paper and barf a better Star Trek novel than this.” And finally one of them—almost certainly David Gerrold, who (God love him) has a history of daring me into doing things I want to do anyway—turned around and called my bluff and said, “All right, go on then, quit your kvetching and just go do it.”

Which left me staring at the problem with a lot more intent. Fine, you’re going to pitch a novel to Trek: what story are you going to tell? It’s not like you’re constrained by a TV budget here. Stretch out and tell the biggest Star Trek story you can find: one that can only be told, or best told, in this universe. (This being my working “prime criterion” for stories told in other people’s universes. For best effect the story should only be capable of being told within that set of characters and circumstances. The jewel must be cut to suit the setting, not—however counterintuitive it might seem—not the other way around.)

So I sat with that concept for a while, and eventually the right idea, or set of ideas, presented itself. I can vividly remember the moment. I was sitting on a bus bench near Victory and White Oak in the San Fernando Valley when the idea hit. It was a long time before cellphones, so I had to wait an hour or so to get home so I could call my agent and say “Don, guess what? I’m going to write a Star Trek novel!”

There was the briefest pause, after which he said, only half joking: “Do you have to?” Because both of us knew perfectly well that from Paramount’s point of view, Star Trek novels were merely another kind of merchandising, like plastic phasers and James T. Kirk action figures. (And strictly speaking, regardless of how we love them, they still are.) …But then Don said, “Okay, do an outline and we’ll see what they think.”

And so I wrote the outline, and my agent sent it along to the editor of the Trek books at Pocket—who was then Dave Hartwell (God rest him, a fabulous editor of any and all kinds of SF)—and Dave read it and liked it, and he sent it to Paramount for approval, and they read it and liked it, and gave Dave the go-ahead to buy it. And that turned into The Wounded Sky. (A nice overview is here. But I am also charmed to tell you that this book has its own entry at TV Tropes.) As a tied-for-second novel went—So You Want To Be A Wizard was written at very nearly the same time—it doesn’t seem to have done too badly.

Anyway, after that got written and turned in and published, the people at Pocket—somewhat to my surprise—said to me, “Okay, what have you got for us next?”  It was that simple… and I was that lucky. I liked working with them: they liked working with me: and they liked what I’d done enough to ask for more. (And...though I have no data on this... I strongly suspect the first book sold well.) So I was in for eight novels more, spread over a fair bit of time. And I have one more plot lying around that I should really get in touch with present editorial about and see if there’s any interest. You never can tell…

So that’s how I did it. Everybody else’s mileage will inevitably vary. But I don’t think there’s going to be much argument with the idea that before working with other IP-holders in their worlds, you might usefully first do as much work as possible in your own. That way potential publishing partners will have something to look at to help them get a sense of what your voice sounds like outside someone else’s world.

…Now as for working with someone else’s IP—anyone’s—this is how I manage it.

(a) Remember it’s theirs. They were there before you arrived and will doubtless be there long after you’re gone. They own that property, are likely enough to have worked hard on it in their time, and—whether they originated it or are just its buyers—are almost certainly powerfully protective of it. You can press against the edges of their envelope—quite hard, if you’re careful and have permission—but break through the fabric of their corporate reality without warning and you are going to be in deep trouble.

Do your homework. Know your licensor: know their history with other creators. Find out where there have been problems in the past and keep your eyes open for warning signs that you may be about to discover some new one. If you were lucky enough to be invited in, act like a considerate houseguest (creatively speaking). While working in that universe, don’t (for example) sneakily attempt to jettison parts of the property that annoy you, or covertly subvert bits that seem to call for subversion. (Overt subversion is a different story. Be in communication with your IP owner about this, and you may be able to win them over.  [Though you should be prepared for them to take credit for this after the fact.] But I have seen people disinvited from franchises with extreme prejudice after they were caught trying to pull one or another kind of “fast one” on their publisher.) If there’s a work-with-us guide or in-house bible, sleep with it under your pillow.

(b) Know your subject/universe. KNOW it. It is an absolute certainty that no matter how well you think you know it, there are fans out there who know it better than you do—massively, obsessively, eat-drink-and-sleep-ively better— and if you put a foot wrong, they will come for you. Leaving aside the issue of not wanting to be left looking like an idiot on the Internet, you ought in any case to be deeply cognizant of your host-world’s internal verities before you can expect to write it flexibly and well.

—And add (b1) to this: Know your characters’ voices. Not just the way they phrase things, but the way they think about things and (possibly more importantly) feel about things. It’s not you the readers will have come for. It’s them. You must channel the core characters at the very least authentically, and (ideally) affectionately, or it’ll all end in tears.

For the duration of this work, you are in service to them. Treat them courteously and give them your best words to speak; but always in their own voices. Don’t be afraid to let them be more real than you are. For a lot of people, unquestionably, they are. If that’s a problem for you, you shouldn’t be doing this kind of work. (At least not more than once.)

© Don’t do it for money. Don’t do it for fame. Do it for love or not at all. ...Let’s be realistic: any licensing IP is likely to (in the great scheme of things) be far better and more widely known than you are. You may acquire some positive press for your work with it, but in many people’s minds the positivity will have to do far more with the property than with you, regardless of your gifts or how much you love that universe, or whether or not you “came up through the fandom.”

As regards money, some licensed work will pay competitively with original work done in the same genre, but most will not. Not even being a Hot Name with a given IP will necessarily guarantee you any kind of serious money. (In particular, IP licensors have a historical tendency to pay lower-than-normally-accepted royalty rates, and in the past it has taken very energetic and insistent agents to break them of this habit, even if only temporarily and on a case-by-case basis.)

It therefore stands to reason that, for the sake of your own best functioning as a writer, you need to be doing work of this kind because you really need to do it (or to have done it) to make yourself happy: to scratch a creative itch, or to give something back to a property/universe that you love.

Now, “do it for love” can cover a lot of ground. You don’t have to be head over heels in luuuurrrrve with a property to write for it well. (In fact I suspect this state could hinder a writer’s ability to do their best work for an IP. You need at least a little separation from it so that you can realistically evaluate how what you’re producing is stacking up.) You can just be in really strong like with a given property. But you ought to be in at least some kind of like. A personal commitment to the stylistic, rational or emotional core of a given property will get you through the times of challenge that will inevitably surround your involvement with it far better than any unrealized hope of a big payday or of more widespread recognition of your own talents. 

Finally: This may sound heretical, but I don’t believe that licensed work is necessarily most fruitfully viewed as a natural stepping-stone to doing original work. (Or even to becoming a licensor yourself, though that does happen.) I think that, well and thoughtfully handled at both ends of things—the auctorial as well as the editorial—not-your-own-IP-work can be entirely worth doing wholly for its own sake. To write for the enjoyment of readers who’re using licensed work to scratch the same itch or feed the same passion that fanfic readers/writers know—of just wanting more good story in that universe? That’s entirely honorable employment, in my book. You’re an entertainer! Entertain, and fear nothing.

(And read your contracts closely.) :)

HTH!

(ETA: for the interested or curious, another post looking more at the issue of how IP-adjacent book editors pick the writers to work on them is over here.)

*Isn’t it wonderful to have to specify which kind of Star Trek you’re talking about? The times we live in...  :)

#Star Trek #Star Trek novels #writing #working with IP holders

[thegeminisage]

star trek update time!! last night* we watched tng's "descent part ii" and ds9's "the homecoming." *times changed i am typing this at fuck o'clock but it will have been last night when this posts

descent part ii (tng):

this was...a little underwhelming

it's kind of unclear whether all borgs are just like this now or whether there is still a sexy collective of cube-shaped inevitability out there somewhere. at the end of the episode i still didn't know. it was great to see hugh again though

i think before riker and worf stormed the castle riker should have given him a little kissy. for luck.

OBVIOUSLY i am distressed at poor data getting brainwashed and HURTING HIS BESTIE!!! but i think they did it backwards. i think they should have had him torture picard and then be unable to shoot geordi. or actually no fuck picard anyway both things should have been geordi. but the final moment should have belonged to geordi because that's data's closest connection.

anyway, lore putting on the visor was EVIL. i was gasping and covering my mouth the entire time. it was definitely distressing, but even though we were lucky to get the little fallout we did, it still didn't feel like enough. data faced absolutely no consequences for his actions and we didn't even get into whether or not they WERE his actions

i'm glad geordi stopped him from destroying the chip though. it is horrifying to me that data has now been traumatized by the very idea of having emotions. dream ruined...

i'm almost sure lore will be back. i know what happens to data in picard :/

also, CAPTAIN BEVERLY!!!! i was so thrilled for her. i loved watching her sit in that chair. i really hated that one guy who kept talking down to the female ensign though. fuck off, dude, beverly is captain, we're doing feminism rn

the homecoming (ds9):

so they labeled this episode "the homecoming (1)" and the episode after it "the circle (2)" which mean it's a two-parter episode but not one that's immediately apparent...so i sort of felt a little cheated when it ended "early." i think if you're gonna have a two-parter they should have the same name and be labeled with part i and part ii. just a thought. i know enterprise does this too and now i understand what those numbers mean!! baffling...

anyway, i fucking loved it. like, i could go on and on. just watch me.

i of course have to talk about kira in this episode. she is always so determined to do right by her people which of course is awesome i love watching her go but more importantly she was SOOOO HOT. MA'AM. MA'AM

the outfit. the new hairdo where they slick it down at the sides to make you think she took a little off there. her and o'brien laughing at that cardassian together 😳 their action hero moment..........

i love also that all of that was perfectly platonic. she was like do i look sexy enough to pull this off and he responded in the affirmative and it never felt like he was running around on his wife. picard, take notes

actually, this episode sort of makes me remember why o'brien is such a natural choice for ds9...in addition to probably being the one who was in the transporter room when picard was beamed back after his capture and torture by the cardassians (he is always very quick to point out to sisko that he's LITERALLY SEEN how they treat their prisoners when we need a reminder of the stakes, so it obviously made a strong impression on him), we have that one episode of tng i always forget about because it's all the way back in season fucking 4 where o'brien is like, it's not you i hate cardassian, i hate what i became because of you. he's seen the cardassians at war and he's been personally affected by it, and you get the feeling that he's also well aware that his experiences, while bad, are just the tip of the iceberg of awful.

and like, it adds so much depth to sending HIM into enemy territory with kira. she warned him they might not come back, and he has a wife and child at home, and he STILL WENT. it was an extremely brave thing to do, and remembering his history in this context leads me to interpret this as something he felt he HAD to do, morally

actually, to veer off a second...i really always love how sisko tries his best to throw his weight behind kira, to protect her and support her. like, him giving that low whistle and going "man i wish you hadn't told me what you wanted that shuttle for" but then going to like dax for example and trying to spitball an idea to make it work. he threads the needle of what's morally correct with what's legally permissible as far as his job goes really well, it never feels like he just pulls the correct solution out of his ass, he always struggles with it

but the thing is HE WENT TO DAX. and dax ALREADY KNEW. he then, to back to o'brien, went to o'brien to work out a plan and o'brien had ALREADY COME UP WITH ONE. there is something so incredibly cathartic about seeing all the starfleet guys in particular triangulating around kira and backing her up for no other reason than they care about her and it's the right thing to do.

anyway, i havent even TOUCHED on the rest of the episode yet. i really could go on and on about kira.

okay, other things! whatever quark is doing was really funny. i wish he had actually given his brother a fair share of the profits, but i guess the new leaf he's turning over doesn't extend that far. his whole sections with odo and kira were hilarious though - the whole episode was actually pretty charming when it wasn't being serious.

i kind of had that guy down as either not really being who they thought he was or not being as brave and cool as they thought he was and i was right. i DO think he should be allowed to retire even if bajor does need him...ten years in a labor camp and straight back to work but now it's political? not my ass. i'd never lift a finger again unless i had to.

ESPECIALLY BECAUSE HE'S REPLACING KIRA??? like ofc i know she isn't leaving but what a plot twist...no fucking good deed goes unpunished.

speaking of dax, sorry, her hair looks EVEN WORSE in season 2........i really hope in season 3 and onward they fix it :(

jake got sooo tall. wah. he's growing like a weed. i really loved the bit where sisko comes in from a long day, yawning, and then he's got to comfort his son about being dumped for being human because of political extremists. and he doesn't slack off on the dad job anymore than he does on the starfleet job. it was such a chuckle earlier in the episode when sisko was panicking because they were too young to do anything but talk in public places only, and now it's like. sad.

quark getting branded was ofc horrible but it WAS really funny that bashir had to more or less threaten him to get him to hold still enough to heal him. king. i love julian sm

i feel like the cardassians giving up their prisoners was a little TOO easy. like. it didn't strike me until just now but i feel like that was sooo easy like everything worked out as smooth as butter. some shit is Happening

TONIGHT: tng's "liaisons" and ds9's "the circle," neither of which i have read the summaries for. i have a feeling our run of pretty solid tng episodes is over for now bc we've switched seasons but SIGH hope springs eternal.

#personal #star trek blogging #ds9 lb #tng lb

[beingatoaster]

In order: P, Y, P, F, P, P

^_^

*squints* I think I see what you're doing here.... TBH this was a little delayed just because when I think of a random AU I tend to throw it onto Tumblr immediately, so I had to wait until new ones occurred to me. XD;;

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

Eula and Jean, role reversal. Not their backstories or families, but their positions in the Knights--possibly this AU is kicked off by some Lawrences conspiring with Eroch and Eula catching wind of it, and so she goes to Varka about the time he’s looking for someone to assign the investigation, and he sees it as a way to demonstrate her loyalty to Mondstadt. So she successfully roots out Eroch and his supporters and becomes Master of Knights, while Jean takes the captaincy of the Reconnaissance Company when it goes empty because someone has to do it, and then Varka assigns Eula as Acting Grand Master when he leaves. And while the Eroch investigation shored up Eula’s bona fides within the Knights, she’s still facing a lot of the resistance from Mondstadt’s civilian populace--that’s what’s interesting to me about this--and so the pressure the Fatui are exerting about the Knights not handling Dvalin at the start of the game is turned up so much higher.

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

Right now, probably the big ones are The Locked Tomb (glad folks are having fun! this one is especially fascinating to follow from the outside, so to speak, because I was a megafan of the author's Homestuck fanfic) and various Dimension 20 games? The Witcher was another big one for a while. And there's one person on my dash who's keeping me updated on the What We Do In The Shadows TV show entirely via gifsets.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

Inspired by spoilers for Ballads and Brews: Andrius adopts Rosaria along with Razor, so she’s even more his brother. XD I’m thinking the bandits who took her from her village stumble into Wolvendom and run afoul of the wolves, and so Andrius ends up with two feral children at once. TBH given Rosaria’s existing Vision story, if the bandits run into the wolves when she’s very young she can easily just share Razor’s--the pack dies trying to save both of them from an Abyss mage, she still loses a quasi-parental figure in whichever were the parent wolves--or if they run into them much later, her bandit not-really-father dies defending her from the wolves.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom

If primarily roleplaying OCs counts as being in a fandom, probably Dragonriders of Pern, which I've been RPing in since, uh... I first got Internet access in 1999, and I found the first RP forums probably a year after that.... Otherwise, if we're talking purely about reading/writing fic, probably Avatar: The Last Airbender, which I first read fic for shortly after it came out back in 2005, and last read fic for just last week.

No, wait, going by those standards, I was reading Star Trek novels as far back as 1995 at least, since I remember boxing some up for that move, and I was reading a Star Trek fic yesterday. XD Star Trek wins!

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

The AU, and I’m not sure if this is Ei/Sara, or Ei/Yae and Sara/Makoto, where Makoto doesn’t die. Which could go a lot of interesting ways for a lot of different characters and points of focus, but as the first sentence suggests, I am thinking about it from a Sara POV. As one of the Shogun’s foremost generals she is very aware that her Shogun seems to have two modes of being with differing behavior to fit each, and she is embarrassingly attracted to the Shogun in one of those modes, while not quite sure why the other mode does nothing for her (or why, in the other mode, she keeps getting subtle nudges encouraging her interest). Yae meanwhile is inevitably in the background laughing her ass off and sowing additional chaos.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

...The one where Lisa doesn’t give up on her research and academic drive, just on the Academiya itself, and ends up acquiring a rich patron willing to provide her with a workspace, assistants, and funding, so long as these lines of research bear certain fruit. Which is to say, Lisa as Ningguang’s secret weapon, because I just persistently love the idea of those two in the same room.

#genshin impact #fandom

[cherubcow]

“Invincible”, Season 1 (2021) Review

Somehow both very cool and very fucking stupid :D

About Created and written primarily by Robert Kirkman (principle writer for The Walking Dead comic and TV show), this Young Adult cartoon basically synthesizes a number of comic book characters (e.g., Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Hellboy, Wonder Woman, Gambit) and tries to balance their heroism with cynical twists and dark realities. It's an exercise like Brightburn (2019) in that it mirrors existing comic writing all too closely in order to make violent twists. The cool stuff arrives pretty much immediately. You can tell right away that the physics have some level of realism, and it quickly gets serious because of this. The easy comparison would be to The Boys (also by Amazon, also about violent heroes, and also very well-produced). So, if you like The Boys (2019–), you'll probably like Invincible only a little less.

(( Some spoilers but nothing too specific ))

Wrong Focus But, the stupid stuff comes from the same error that the Kick-Ass movie (2010) made: it focuses on the wrong person(s). In Kick-Ass, the error was focusing on.. well.. "Kick-Ass", an irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. Invincible makes the same mistake, focusing on.. well.. "Invincible", a (so far) irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. So, despite its virtues, this show cannot escape that it made the decision to go for the Young Adult viewing demographic. It reminds me of Alita: Battle Angel (2019) in that way too: some very cool adult concepts ruined by the dramatic devices of unrepentant teenage stupidity and irrelevance. I didn't even like that stuff when I was a teenager, though Jordan Catalano gets a pass.

Main Cast and Characters The supporting characters were also very stupid. The most annoying was definitely Amber Bennett (voiced by the otherwise cool Zazie Beetz from Deadpool 2 (2018) and Joker (2019)), 

who is supposed to be attractive somehow to Mark Grayson ("Invincible", voiced by Steven Yeun, who played Glenn on The Walking Dead) 

despite the fact that she constantly judges him, fails to understand him, often fails to give him any kind of benefit of the doubt, and continues to scowl at him and be hurtful towards him even when she has information that should change her outlook towards him. And because she is part of the love triangle shared between herself, Invincible/Mark, and "Atom Eve"/Samantha (voiced by the awesome Gillian Jacobs from Community (2009–2014)), 

audiences simply have to bear with it that Amber's annoying character will be present and wasting time until Mark can realize that Amber is in fact toxic and that Eve actually understands him and can improve him in more positive directions. That love triangle should have been a 20-minute distraction, but I'm guessing that it will eat up a season or two more, especially if the writers become cowardly and fail to change things for fear of messing up a perceived "winning" formula. In my ideal story line, they would skip ahead 10 years, drop the teen drama, the love triangle, and the stupid jokes and have Invincible and Eve paired in defense of Earth, with the main tension being from their worry that the other would be horribly gored in front of them during lethal fights against cosmic enemies ;)

Aside, I am aware of Amber’s motivation for being a bad person, I just think her justification is not based in understanding, empathy, and a regard for the gravity of Invincible’s situation. In a strict political sense, Invincible should not commit a lie of omission by keeping her in the dark about his identity — even if for the “noble lie” reason of protecting her — but in a real sense, he is a fucking teenager who just developed his super powers. For her to pretend that he should reveal his entire identity to her — a potentially transformative and even dangerous decision — after a few months of teenage romance paints an absurd portrait of her mind. It does, however, align her with Omni-Man, because where Omni-Man forces Invincible to become an adult in the fighting sense (pushing with full force early on), Amber forces Invincible to become an emotional adult by getting him to understand that toxic people such as herself need to be given boundaries — and he needs to learn to clearly delineate and communicate his real desires. By knowing that he does not want Amber, people who regiment his free time, or people who do not suit him, for instance, he can realize why Eve was an obvious decision: Eve understands, can make time when they have time, and will let him find his decisions. Part of a coming-of-age story tends to be realizing what one actually wants, and Invincible’s hesitation in telling Amber his identity shows that he does not truly want her. This separates Invincible from, say, Spider-Man, who avoided telling Mary Jane his identity not because he did not want her but because he wanted at all costs to protect her.

The next most annoying character has to be Debbie Grayson (voiced by TV-cancer Sandra Oh and who luckily was not animated to look like the real Sandra Oh and who should have been voiced instead by Bobby Lee due to Lee's successful MadTV parody of Sandra Oh). 

Debbie basically fills the role of Skyler in Breaking Bad, except that Debbie's character tends to be slightly more understanding before her inevitable and toxic Skyler-resentment and undermining behavior. Despite having an 8-episode arc of change, Debbie's character flips too quickly and lacks the empathy and Omni-Man motive-justifying that would make her interesting (the comic's development may vary). For instance, if she refused to believe that Omni-Man meant his own words, that would make her empathetic and perhaps virtuous even if misled, but instead she dropped their "20 years" of understanding after viewing Omni-Man in action, which makes her appear shallow, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. That was a definite "Young Adult" genre move because it shows immaturity by the writers to break apart a bond of 20 years so quickly. Mediocre teens might accept such a fissure because their lives have not yet seen or may not comprehend that level of time, but adults know that even long-standing and problematic relationships (which, beyond the lie, Omni-Man's and Debbie's was not shown to be) take a lot of time to break — even with lies exposed.

Omni-Man The biggest show strength for me was of course Omni-Man, who in a success of casting was voiced by J.K. Simmons in a kind of reprisal of Simmons' role as Fletcher from Whiplash (2014). 

The Fletcher/Omni-Man parallel shows through their being incredibly harsh but extremely disciplined and principled, forcing people to become beyond even their own ideal selves (this via Omni-Man's tough-love teaching of Invincible — comically, Omni-Man was actually psychologically easier on Invincible than Fletcher was on Whiplash's Andrew character). Despite the show's attempts to villainize Omni-Man, he, like Fletcher and also like Breaking Bad's Walter White, becomes progressively more awesome, eventually representing a Spartan will, an unconquerable drive, and a realistic and martial understanding of a hero's role.

To the show's credit, while it wrote Omni-Man to be outright genocidal and from a culture of eugenicists (again, Spartan), they could not help but admire him and his "violence" and "naked force" (for a Starship Troopers reference), giving him a path to redemption. That redemption comes in part because — despite the show's attempt to be often realistic and violent — its decision to be directed at young adults via dumb jokes, petty relationship drama, the characters’ reckless lack of anonymity and security in their neighborhood (loudly taking off and landing right at the doorstep), and light indy music also made the portrayed violence far less literal. With a less literal violence, the real statement becomes not that Omni-Man really did kill so many people (though he certainly did kill those people within the show's plot) but that he was symbolically capable of terrible violence but could be reformed for good. That's the shortcoming with putting violence under demographic limitations. If it's a PG-13 Godzilla knocking down cities, the deaths in the many fallen skyscrapers don't matter so much (the audience will even forgive Godzilla for mass death if it happens mostly in removed spectacle), whereas if it's Cormac McCarthy envisioning a very realistic fiction, every death rides the edge of true trauma.

By showing light between the real and the symbolic, it is much easier to identify and agree with Omni-Man. For instance, when Robot (voiced by Zachary Quinto of Heroes and the newer Star Trek movies) 

shows too much empathy for the revealed weakness of "Monster Girl" (voiced by Grey Griffin), the audience may have thought, "Pathetic," even before Omni-Man himself said it. And this because Omni-Man knows that true and powerful enemies (including himself) will not hesitate to use ultra-violence against these avenues of weakness. "Invincible" can make his Spider-Man quips while in lethal battles, but he does so while riding the edge of death — something that Omni-Man has to teach Invincible by riding him to the brink of his own.

Other Cast/Characters and Amazon's Hidden Budget It was impressive how many big-name actors were thrown into this — a true hemorrhage of producer funding. Amazon has so far hidden the budget numbers, perhaps because they don't want people to know that the show (like many of its shows) represents a kind of loss-leader to jump-start its entertainment brand.

Aside from those already mentioned, the show borrows a number of actors from The Walking Dead (WD), including.. • Chad L. Coleman ("Martian Man"; "Tyreese" on WD),

• Khary Payton ("Black Samson"; "Ezekiel" on WD),

• Ross Marquand (several characters; "Aaron" on WD)

• Lauren Cohan ("War Woman"; "Maggie" on WD)

• Michael Cudlitz ("Red Rush"; "Abraham" on WD)

• Lennie James ("Darkwing"; "Morgan" on WD)

• Sonequa Martin-Green ("Green Ghost"; "Sasha" on WD) 

There were also connections to Rick and Morty and Community, not just with Gillian Jacobs but also with... • Justin Roiland ("Doug Cheston"), who voices both Rick and Morty in Rick and Morty,

• Jason Mantzoukas ("Rex"),

• Walton Goggins ("Cecil"),

• Chris Diamantopoulos (several characters),

• Clancy Brown ("Damien Darkblood"),

• Kevin Michael Richardson ("Mauler Twins"), and

• Ryan Ridley (writing)

That's a lot of overlap. They even had Michael Dorn from Star Trek: TNG (1987–1994) (there he played Worf) and Reginald VelJohnson from Family Matters (1989–1998) and Die Hard (1988), and even Mark Hamill. Pretty much everyone in the voice cast was significant and known. Maybe Amazon got a discount for COVID since the actors could all do voice-work from home? ;)

Overall Bad that it was for the Young Adult target demo but good for the infrequent adult themes and ultra-violence. Very high production value and a good watch for those who like dark superhero stories. I have heard that the comic gets progressively darker, which fits for Robert Kirkman, so it will likely be worth keeping up with this show.

#invincible #tv review #robert kirkman #invincible tv series #invincible tv show

[tattooedsiren]

fic writers game

tagged by @sal-si-puedes 

How many works do you have on AO3? 62.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 666,480. That’s soooo many words to me.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? On AO3 I have three fandoms posted: Suits, Teen Wolf, Merlin. Wrote a bunch more in the 15 years prior to AO3 which I won’t bother listing.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? by my side - 5,035 kudos a truth so loud - 3,282 kudos something inevitable - 2,988 kudos whatever the question - 2,571 kudos exclusively yours - 2,353 kudos Insane to me that my first ever Suits fic when I had no idea what I was doing is in the top 5 lol. And I still remember by my side kinda breaking out, which I honestly did not expect at all.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I used to reply to every comment. But then I got really behind and never caught up. Now I just respond if people are asking a question or if it’s a particularly touching comment. I love every single comment I get, I’m just a mess about even reading my AO3 emails these days... :(

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Not All Rules Are Meant To Be Broken. Pretty sure it’s the only fic I’ve written without an explicitly happy/hopeful ending. Never again lol.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Not really my jam, to be honest. I’m very boring.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I've definitely got crit (some constructive and some not), and people who didn’t like the ships (especially some of my more controversial ships, though that begs the question of why even read it?), but not full on flat out hate.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Occasionally. It’s pretty vanilla tbh.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I have, way back in the day.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No. Have talked about it before but it’s never eventuated. Maybe one day...

What’s your all time favorite ship? Harvey/Mike will forever hold a special place in my heart.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I don’t really do WIPs. I’m someone who will focus on one fic at a time and write it until it’s done, or if I can’t make it work I give it up and completely abandon it.

What are your writing strengths? I’m not sure. I think maybe dialogue and characterizations. And inducing feels in the reader.

What are your writing weaknesses? Plot. Like I’m so in awe of writers who do super detailed, structured, mystery type plots. My brain could never. Also sex scenes. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? If in small doses and appropriate for the fic, great. I’ve done it once for always a good idea, where Mike moved to Paris and there are a few lines of dialogue in french, mostly because it was a good way for characters to say things that hint at things without Harvey knowing about it. But it was sparingly done. If it’s too much, and you don’t speak that language, it can definitely throw you out of the fic and become too hard basket as a reader.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Pretty sure it was Star Trek Voyager, because I’m that old.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Oh man, I could never choose. I do have particular fondness for futures that all might start someday,  something inevitable, whatever the question.

I tag: @crazyassmurdererwall . @cinematicnomad . @machtaholic . and anyone else who wants to have a go. :)

#sal si puedes #writing #writing is hard

[damnhardwork]

Writer Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @ectogeo-rebubbles

I’m not tagging anyone because I can’t keep up with who has been tagged and who hasn’t. So if you want a go, have at!

How many works do you have on AO3?

75 (hopefully soon to be 76)

What's your total AO3 word count?

351,611

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Okay, so if I do it by kudos totals, then it’s entirely dominated by Good Omens because magafandom. So I’m going to do top from each fandom (inc. ones I no longer write for), as that’s more interesting.

1) Pandora’s Box - Good Omens

2) The Storeroom - Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

3) Old Magic - Harry Potter

4) Sanctuary - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

5) 100 Words of Seven - Doctor Who (1963)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I have kind of a complicated relationship with comments. 

I try to respond to them, and I feel awful and rude when someone has taken the time to talk to me in the comment section and I don’t reply. But also (and I know this is super weird), sometimes comments - especially the very nice ones! - all get tangled up in my head and don’t play particularly nicely with the almost constant sense of imposter syndrome I feel. 

*someone leaves me a lovely comment*

Me: well, this is going to go badly when they realise I’m a total fraud...

Yeah, I know it’s stupid. No amount of reasoning with myself seems to change it, either. I’ve just got to leave them for a bit, chill out, and come back later. Sometimes quite a long time later.

So yeah. Sorry guys. 

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm, this one is difficult, as I’ve got a few that have angsty endings. 

Probably Epilogues (BtVS Comics)? It’s an angsty fic all the way through, as it deals with death and grief and guilt, but it’s probably got the angstiest ending as Giles isn’t ‘fixed’ at the end. He’s still dealing with his guilt, and he still has bad days and suicidal thoughts. 

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Fingerprints (DS9), I think? It’s a Soul Mark AU with a very traditional Happy Ever After sort of ending. 

I don’t tend to do many Happily Ever After sort of fics, to be honest. Mostly because I tend to like to write the very first (mostly lust-filled) parts of a relationship, where they’ve not got far enough to have a a fantastically happy ending as opposed to just a hopeful one. 

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Occasionally! I currently have one crossover up on AO3 - A HP/Discworld crossover I wrote as a gift for an exchange called Almost Like Magic. 

I do have a few crossovers on my harddrive (a Torchwood/DS9 crossover, and a Pacific Rim/Doctor Who crossover), but they’re probably forever going to stay as drawerfic, as they’re weird enough that they likely have an audience of exactly 1. Me. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

lol yeah.

To mis-quote Madeline Kahn:

Flames. Flames in the comments of my fics. 

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Is water wet? Are bears catholic? Does the Pope crap in the woods?

Just over half of all my fic on AO3 is M or E rated (39/75). So yes, yes I write smut. 

As for what kind, to be honest, anything that takes my fancy. Or seems like it might be a challenge. Smut is something I really enjoy writing. I think there’s a lot about the characters that you can explore by making them vulnerable like that. It’s another window into their lives, thought patterns, and relationships. 

Plus, like, it’s fun. ;D

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I’m aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! By the lovely @rusblk! 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I’ve been involved in a few collaborative projects before - such as Ladies of Letters with the fabulous @quaggy-fic , but nothing that’s the sort of co-writing project where it’s one seamless project rather than a back and forth. 

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Difficult question!

And I’m going to clumsily avoid it by saying ‘I love all my ships equally’. Even the ones I haven’t written anything for yet!

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Lots of WIPs that have never left my harddrive, tbh. 

I’ve currently got two open WIPs posted to AO3, and I do plan to finish both. 

What are your writing strengths?

Errrrr... terrible puns and nob jokes?

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. 

I am SO BAD at it. I swear 90% of my time writing is spent re-drafting fucking dialogue.

And also falling down huge plot holes of my own making. Serves me right, really, for not finishing a story before I start posting it and inevitably writing myself into a corner. 

Siiiiigh

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Fine? =)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

CSI: Vegas. And it has been lost to the void of the mid-00s internet. Thank god. 

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

hmmmm, okay so I can’t decide and am therefore going to cheat and say two =p

Either Jerusalem (BtVS) because it was nice to write something about Giles’ childhood and his (good!) relationship with his Dad. Or Blue Ink (DS9) because it was fun as hell to write two madly-in-lust people utterly unable to just say fuck it and give into their desires because they can’t bear the thought of losing a completely made up and utterly inconsequential game to the other. Fun times. 

Fun. Times.

#ask game

[miss-tc-nova]

Unconventional Wayfinders - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this one yet. I like the idea, but I’m wary of my execution. Oh well!

~~~~~

               Fingers work their magic, gliding through ebony hair. The pampered would absolutely melt into oblivion if he could; instead, he just soaks in the sunlight streaming in through the window and indulges in the feeling of someone playing with his hair. So relaxed is the young man that he begins to drift away—that is, until the magic stops and a digit taps against his nose.

               “Eraqus, aren’t you supposed to be reading?” Book aside, silver eyes—sparkling from that afternoon light—peer down at the lap in which the slacker rests his head.

               The response is an unashamed grin. “Maybe.” A brow arches at him. “Come on Xehanort. I’m not bothering your studies.”

               “So,” the studious replies sharply. “If you don’t study, when the test comes around, you’ll try to get me to cheat for you again and we’ll both get caught and get detention…again.”

               Chuckling, Eraqus reaches up to swat silver bangs from the other boy’s face. “Maybe next time you should double check before throwing the most obvious cheat sheet right in front of the Master’s face.”

               “Or—” The book snaps shut. “—you could study and do your test without getting me in trouble…again.”

               “I thought you liked risk.”

               “Sure, but I’m not a fool—you should know; you’re king of that field.” Fingers pinch at a cheek.

               The boy in white pushes the fingers from his face, still smiling like the royal fool he is. Then something that’s been dancing through his thoughts for a long time slips past his lips. “Hey, get a piercing with me.”

               Understandable is the look of shock on his partner’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

               Granted, it is a very odd request, but there is certainly a motivation behind his suggestion; he can display his affection all he wants in smooches, snuggles, and sneaky spots, but those are things that can fade in the fleeting moments following said acts. That’s not to say Eraqus will ever forget his beloved’s greedy kisses or the embraces that make him feel like he’s more than just another face in a bloodline of world defenders, but those affections, filled with so much adoration, always leave him anxious that his happiness will one day vanish—all he wants is some physical proof that these moments happened. Having thought long and hard about the decision, this is the solution that emerged.

               “Let’s go get our ears pierced,” he repeats, sitting up. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”

               “I’m sure it’ll be painful…”

               “Only for a while—Urd says it’s not that bad. Even Bragi got one.”

               “Okay, first off, Bragi would jump into a hole for a bag of candy. Second, Urd is probably the one who threw the bag down there.”

               An attempt to defend his friends is made, “That only happened once!”

               “But it happened.”

               “Just—come on! Please!”

               There’s an initial resistance, but Xehanort cannot withstand his boyfriend’s puppy-eyes for long—Era knows; Era checked. The “simple request” has to be considered a bit longer than an average request but he does inevitably give. “Fine.”

               “Yes! Let’s go!” Grabbing his hand, the excited boy drags the other out of the library.

               “Now?!”

               Yes, he wants to go now.

               By the time they arrive at the tattoo parlor that’s been scouted out for a few weeks, Eraqus is sure his companion is only seconds away from reconsidering his life choices. Various art pieces adorn the ruby walls and black furniture is set to accommodate guests. There are tables and chairs behind the show-case counter with a variety of bottles and tools looking ready to torment someone at disposal.

               “What can I do for you boys?” the man behind the glass counter.

               “Hi.” A wave is added to the greeting. “We’re here to get our ears pierced.”

               He’s far more relaxed than expected. “Cool. What do you have in mind?”

               And thus they have approached the first obstacle. “Er, actually we haven’t decided yet.”

               So the man goes over the variation of ear piercings, shows some example pictures, and explains how to care for new piercings. When there’s still no decision on the type of piercing, there’s a gesture to case, offering a look at the myriad of jewelry they have.

               The second his eyes lay on the black bands, Eraqus knows which ones he wants to share with his boyfriend—it seemed like fate to him. His finger points into the glass. “These ones.”

               They clink as they fall onto the counter for the two to inspect, but the instigator is already sold. “You sure you want these ones? Cuffs usually go in the cartilage which is a bit more painful than your usual earlobe piercings.”

               Xehanort eyes the shorter boy who grins and declares, “Yep. I want these ones—one for each of us.”

               “Alright. Who’s going in the chair first?”

               Now in the face of imminent pain, Era starts to get cold feet. While he is a key bearer and is no stranger to pain, he’s not exactly a fan of it and prefers to shy away. He’s fully aware his reaction is a little silly, but good ol’ Xe heaves a sigh and announces, “I’ll go first.”

               Stone eyes watch on as the first boy speaks with the piercer about placement of the ear décor as casually as talking about the weather on Scala. True to his persona, he shows no apprehensions.

               “You wanna hold his hand?” the artist offers the onlooker.

               This immediately brings up an objection from the first victim. “Pfft. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand. Let’s just do it.”

               A sheepish grin via Era is given; the artist shrugs and turns back on the boy in the chair. The faintest hint of concern finally flashes in those silver eyes, detectable only by the boy who knows him best. Nevertheless, with a simple blink and only the slightest of twinges, the job gets done. Once he’s free, Xehanort looks to Eraqus—ear just starting to react to the piercing.

               “How does it look?”

               The gleaming metal brings about a strange happiness within the shorter male. In Eraqus’s mind, it’s a mark—a claim—and it makes him absolutely overjoyed. “It looks great…I guess that means it’s my turn?”

               The boys swap out and the boy with black hair feels the nerves coil in his gut again. A marker taps against his ear and the placement is confirmed. As the needle is being prepped, his heart beats louder in his chest. His gaze turns on the other boy.

               “Guess I’m not quite as brave,” he admits, hand upturned in requisition.

               There’s a mock of annoyance but fingers interlock and hold firmly. “It’s not that bad, you wuss.” Nervously, the second victim just smiles.

               There’s a warning and the muscles in his body tense, his fist curling tighter around his partner’s. A sharp bite takes hold in his ear but he knows better than to flinch away. Instead, focus goes to the reciprocated squeeze in his hand. It feels like forever but eventually the pain dies down, blood rushing around the spot which is unlikely to die down soon.

               Elated and relieved, he hops up. “Phew! I’m glad that’s over!”

               “Glad? You’re the one who planned this whole thing,” his boyfriend scolds.

               “That doesn’t mean I go around poking needles through my ears in my spare time.”

               The good-natured artist chuckles. “Alright.” A mirror is propped up for their viewing. “Wha’chu boys think?”

               Once again, Eraqus is very pleased at seeing his shiny, new adornment, but that euphoria is nowhere near the hit he gets from each glance at the matching piece worn by Xehanort. Bleeding through his brain is the thought of how beautiful the mark he’s chosen looks on his dearest.

               “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

               Xe bounces his shoulders. Several more words of gratitude are given before the couple pays and heads home. The boy in white is more chipper than usual on their trek and his companion’s admiration of the light-heartedness is not missed.

               Back at the castle, the pair ambles along the student dorms.

               “So we’re supposed to spray this on our ears twice a day?” questions the boy in black, holding up a mini spray bottle.

               “That’s what he said.”

               A hand riffles through silver hair, only to quickly retract with a grimace; his ear is now notably upset at having been impaled.  “Why did you have to pick a helix piercing?”

               Despite his beloved’s griping, Era eyes the band with a little smile. “I thought it looked cooler. What? You don’t like the cuffs I picked?”

               “Why cuffs?”

               This is where the shorter boy feels a bit sheepish in admitting his cheesy reasoning—but if anyone would understand, it would be Xehanort. “Because they have stars in them.”

               What Eraqus is referring to is the star-shaped holes in the black metal. Years ago, shortly following the arrival of the non-native boy, he told his classmates about a fruit from his home world that is rumored to bind two people’s destinies should they share one—it grows in the shape of a star. Now Eraqus had no way of finding Xehanort’s home world, let alone this magical fruit; so in hopes the symbolism will be enough—even if it’s just to remind these boys to take control of their own destinies—he chose the jewelry based on a fantasy.

               “You’re such a sap.” This is no doubt Xehenort’s attempt to lighten the heavy implications. It’s worth noting the tint of pink bleeding across his nose.

               With a childish huff, Era folds his arms and storms ahead into his room. “Fine. Don’t wear it. See what I care. You just had a needle in your ear for nothing.”

               Just as he’s shirking off his haori, a pair of arms slips around his waist. “I said you were a sap; I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear it,” the taller hums, chin falling on a shoulder. “It’s cute that you believe in such fairy tales.”

               Stony eyes roll. “You’re rude.”

               He can’t resist the nuzzle against his neck. “You’re adorable.”

               There’s little resistance to being pulled around, but Eraqus is in for a surprise when the hands against his shoulders push him down onto the bed. He has just enough time to sit up before the other straddles his lap. It feels like a balloon swelling in his chest as his face is captured and drawn close. However, the normally hunter-like gaze is surprisingly soft and warm.

               “Silly, symbolic jewelry or not, no matter where our paths may take us, I’ll always find you in the end.” Even his voice holds that sincere emotion.

               Xehanort is not one to blatantly lay himself out for anyone—even his partner sometimes struggles to reach through the indifference. But the moments where he does let his guard down tend to be most cherished by the shorter boy as he knows they are the most important. No matter what happens, he knows Xe will hold true to his words and maybe that’s all Era needed to keep his peace of mind. It’s still going to fill him with happiness to see his little tag on his boyfriend’s ear though.

               The sweet instant is short lived, transitioning easily back to the wolfish nature more suitable for the boy in black. With a dangerous gleam, he leans closer. All tension melts in submissive boy’s anticipation.

               “On the other hand, if you wanted some sort of proof of your claim, there are certainly other ways you could’ve left a mark,” the instigator whispers against pink lips, putting every strand of black hair on end.

               “Wanna demonstrate?” His mind is already lost to the desire for affection.

               With slow, deliberate draw of his tongue along the bottom lip, Xehanort lowly replies, “Oh you know I’m going to.”

               He pushes his partner down onto the bed and indulges Eraqus in his greed.

#xehanort #eraqus #xehaqus #xehanort x eraqus #young master eraqus #young master xehanort #ymx #yme

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 12)

Seal hunting, penguin sledding, building snowbenders--it is all such a delight!

The cold is still harsh on her cheeks and nippy on her nose but it is a small price to pay for the frigidly enchanting, mystifying world around her. For the small fluttery flakes that sparkle on her lashes and on the fur of her parka.

And the lights! The lights in the sky that lick at the stars--more of them than she has ever seen!--she feels like she is home. Home and yet the Tribes are nothing at all like the Fire Nation by any means. And maybe that is why she is able to feel as well as she does. That same frosty breeze that bites at her face, is the breeze that freezes all of her stresses and woes to a stand still. Everything is so fresh and so new and like nothing she has ever seen before. And in the open expanse of the rolling, glittering tundra is free! Truly free. And free to be anything she wants.

Today, she wants to be a snowflake on the breeze or a fold in those glowing sky curtains. Perhaps she can’t be either in the literal sense, but she can certainly feel like one. All she has to do is run. Run, light and weightless until her exhilaration reaches a peak. And she does, she takes off into the fastest run, only caring for the world around her insofar as to not get lost. But on a night like this she can’t imagine that she would get lost. She can’t imagine that anything bad could happen because she is so, so far from the places where bad things happen. Away from the people who cause those things.

She might not be lost in the tundra but she is lost in life. And lost in life she may be but she thinks that it might be fun to just wander for a while. Wander with no direction and no goal at all. At first she thought to seek out a daring romance in the cold, cuddling up by a fire and swathed in heavy blankets. Yet the longer she flounces about in the snow, the less compelling that fantasy becomes.

No, she needs a real escapade. One that isn’t bogged down by romance and obligation. She reaches the village and turns to look back. Her footprints in the snow, a map of excitement and hope. She flights herself down and flails her arms and legs, just as she’d seen a few of the village children do. She laughs like them too. Carefree and optimistic.

She laughs like herself.

And she thinks that she knows where she wants to go from here.

.oOo.

For a while, a very mercifully long while, Seicho has kept to her word. She hasn’t asked a single question. Hasn’t uttered a single word. They trek in silence, not that she has any other choice, she ruefully reminds herself. And then she reminds herself that she won’t have to worry about that soon anyhow.

Such have been the nature of her thoughts for the past three days. And the opportunity has presented itself more than once; a particularly high ledge, a poisonous berry or flower, a lethally venomous snake within arms reach…

But they are not for her. Not befitting of her. Not grand enough. She doesn’t want to die spasming in the mud in some Agni forsaken jungle and cliffs and ledges aren’t sure enough. Not like the volcano.

The hike isn’t doing her mood any favors, she is dirty and smells of mud and musk. She is uncomfortably hot and sweat-slicked. Every time she goes to wipe some grime from her face she smears more upon it. She is dirty and loathsome as she feels within. And now, she doesn’t even have Seicho’s incessant chatter to distract her from it.

If TyLee could see her now, the woman would probably wonder what she had ever seen in the her. She isn’t sure what anyone had seen in her. Can’t see why Zuko has bothered to bring her to Ember Island at all, it would serve him much better to personally accompany her to the volcano and push her over the edge. Perhaps she should go back and pose the offer…

“We’re about a day or two away.”

Azula nods. Good.

“Can I ask you something?” She is almost relieved to hear Seicho speak again. So much so that she doesn’t point out that she has already asked her something. Her relief, like much else she enjoys, is cut brief. She supposes that she should have seen it coming, Seicho was bound to inquire eventually.  “Are you going to tell me how you lost your voice?”

Azula pauses to find her parchment. ‘Why would I?’

Seicho shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess…” She frowns. “Sorry, that was a personal question, I should have started with something easier.”

But that’s just it; there is a part of her that is itching to tell her. Perhaps to get it off of her chest. More likely, to show Seicho the kind of person she is. ‘I’ll tell you tonight, after we make camp.’

Seicho grins. “Great! I was also wondering if you’d like to stop at that stream for a bath. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting all sticky and gross.”

In way of a response she makes a brisk break for the river. She thinks that she hears Seicho chuckle and wonders if the woman had made the suggestion more for her than for herself. It doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters is washing the filth from her skin, nevermind the details. So gross does she feel that she doesn’t hesitate to strip her clothes away. If the peasant has any problem with it, she can turn the other way.

“I have some soap, if you need it.”

Azula nods vigorously and holds her hand out.

With a smile, Seicho hands her the bar and leaves her to her undignified backwater bath. She emerges from it smelling less like sweat and mud and more like seaweed. But Agni is it better than being covered head to toe in grime.

“I washed our clothes.” Seicho mentions. “They aren’t dry yet so…”

Azula shrugs, her inhibitions and social graces are well and gone. They’d vacated on her last visit to the institution, whether she was aware or not. She holds her arm out, it is a bumpy mural of bugbites and scratches and a descent bruise from when Seicho had run into her with an armful of firewood.

“Those aren’t painful, are they?”

‘No’.

“You should really take better care of them, so that they don’t get infected.” She holds up some slave and bandages. “Can I?”  

Azula inhales and holds her arm out. Seicho is surprisingly careful. She purses her lips in concentration as she dabs each cut and scrape with with salve. It is overdoing it, but Azula allows her to wrap her entire arm with bandages. She lightly pats Azula’s hand, “there that should do it. We can change the bandages tomorrow.”

‘Sure.’

“Are you feeling better now that you’re all clean?”

‘I wouldn’t say all.’

“Are you feeling better now that you’re cleaner than before?”

She feels no different, really.

.oOo.

The woman keeps her distance, gazing intensely into the campfire, likely because she still doesn’t want to share her story and Seicho can’t bring herself to ask a second time. Evidently she is surprised that the woman hasn’t tried to char her to a crisp yet.

“You hungry?” She asks instead.

Her eyes don’t leave the fire, she isn’t even sure that the woman has heard her.

“I was able to catch some fish, I could cook those.”

The fire gives a loud snap.

“Alright. I’ll cook both fish and if you want one you can have one. But you should eat something.”

The woman averts her gaze at last and feels around for her brush and parchment. Seicho watches the brush bob back and forth for longer than she had expected. The fish are mostly cooked by the time she finishes. She holds out the parchment and grabs the fish. She finishes cooking them as Seicho reads through her note.

“You…” Seicho beings “You wanted the spirit to take your voice?”

The woman takes the first fish from the fire and offers it to her. She nods and takes her own fish.

“But you want it back now?”

The woman nods again.

“Well that was one wild impulse decision.”

She gestures for the parchment. Seicho hands it back and the woman scrawls something else. She holds up the parchment. ‘There’s something wrong with me.’  Seicho takes her hand. “You’re hurt.”

The woman shakes her head. ‘It’s more than that…’

“Then what is it?”

The woman tosses the parchment into the fire.

“Alright, time for a subject change. What’s your name anyways?”

She doesn’t pull out another piece of parchment. But at least she had made some progress. At least she had opened up even a little. “Can we talk about the spirit? That creature sounded terrifying. Terrifying and lovely all at once.” The woman simply nods in agreement. She tries to picture it in her head; thin ribbons of iridescence, curling endlessly and evershifting. Tries to hear it in her head, a voice that is a chorus, that is divine and horrifying in synchrony. “I don’t think that you needed to do that. Whatever you said that made you think that you had too…”

.oOo.

If only it were just one thing, one angry sentence. That could be brushed off, taken as a heat of the moment lashing. Maybe in a sense that’s what it was. But after a certain point, rage driven insults are spoken often enough to become a rather defining trait. An ingrained and deeply innate flaw of character. And to call it a flaw so drastically understands what it is. It is more like a glaring smear on her personality. It is her personality.

“I don’t think that you’re a bad person.”

But she will inevitably, should she be given the chance. Frankly she is surprised that the woman hasn’t found a reason to think  so. At the very least, she must think her rude and unpleasant. Bad company that she is stuck with.

Seicho probably regrets the trip as much as she does. She looks at her arm, at how tenderly it had been tended to. Her stomach flutters, a cross between sadness and discomfort. Perhaps a little fear. She looks up from the fire to see the woman smiling softly at her. “I can tell you a story.” She offers. “It’s a folktale but I haven’t told a campfire story in a while. Maybe you’re more of the listening sort. I’m definitely a talker. I think that you can tell though because I go on and on and...do you want to hear the story?”

Azula’s tummy flutters again and she nods. She isn’t sure why but she nods. She can’t remember the last time anyone has told her a story just to tell one. She isn’t sure that anyone ever has. Seicho’s face lights up nearly brighter than the fire. “Okay so there’s a boy who finds a polished stone on the beach, mom always called it the hope stone. The boy was terribly said, he lost his family to a hurricane. It destroyed his home and his ship too. He was so hurt and so angry that it came out in everything he did. Eventually his friends couldn’t stand to be around him anymore because he was bringing them down. And when his friends went away he had nothing left at all. So he went down to the beach in the middle of the night.”

Azula stares at her palms, shifts in her spot.

“He was so furious. He just started picking up rocks and throwing them. And then he found a really smooth and shiny rock. It looked almost like a mirror so when he pointed it towards the sky it was like seeing a galaxy on the stone. And in that galaxy,  it showed him things. It showed him how to mend his friendships and how to be happy again. It showed him is parents and they smiled up at him. He knew that they wanted him to be happy…”

She doesn’t mean to but she finds herself nodding off. She doesn’t think that Seicho has noticed because the girl is still talking. She must have nodded off in full because she wakes up in the tent, Seicho snoring on the other side of it.

She swallows hard, she can’t place exactly what they are born from, but there are tears in her eyes. She wipes them away.

“You’re awake again?” Seicho mumbles. “You should go back to sleep.” Azula isn’t sure that the woman is fully awake. She is certain that she isn’t when she clumsily swats at her muttering, “lay down, it’s night time, that means lay down and eye shut time.” And yet she finds the coordination to tuck her in when she finally does lay back down.

She hasn’t been tucked in, in ages either. Not by someone other than herself. And her mind wanders. Wanders to a new place. It is just an itch. A small thing in the back of her mind. A small thing that magnifies itself in her dreams.

Tonight she doesn’t dream of volcanoes and blackening skin. She dreams of a galaxy, of a reaching hand.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #Tyzula #Fanfiction

[sabineelectricheart]

Overnight Clairvoyance

Summary: Estella has been having strange dreams about her best friend and they are making her confused and anxious. Is pulling back really the answer? How does Sam feel about all that?

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 2100

Notes: Friends to lovers. What not to love about that?

Estella shot up from her large bed, her chest heaving, as she tries to anchor herself back into awoken reality.

The sunny day was quiet and tranquil, as it often is in the valley. Her bedroom was on the second floor, and so even the animal and labour noises typical of country living went mostly unheard.

However, the tranquillity of her environment did not translate to a tranquillity to her heart. The auburn-haired girl had been having another dream, a blissful and happy one, but then she awoke feeling nothing but dread.

This was nothing new. She had been having these dreams for months, now, to the point she is close to take on the doctor’s offer to talk to a psychologist. They depicted a future of a happy and blissful relationship, days passed by with lazy, languid kisses and longing and loving stares. The dreams were everything anyone could ever want out of a romantic relationship.

If it was just the general situation, Estella would have been perfectly fine about those oneiric trips every other night. The problem, however, laid with who starred in these fantasies.

Sam had been her best friend since early childhood. A long time ago, before her father passed away and his had been shipped away to war, his family had been tenants at the farm, and so Estella had been encouraged to spend time with the hyper blond boy around the property.

Over time, the relationship blossomed, even after Kent enlisted and was sent beyond the Gem Sea, after Jodi moved with the children into town. They had seen all of each other’s important milestones, they had been there for each other through everything, good and bad. She had always thought of Sam as a brother, just like she did Vincent.

That was, until the dreams began.

Suddenly his very presence made her stomach erupt with fireworks and roses bloom on her cheeks. Every smile he sent her made the girl nervous and every bit of contact made goosebumps arise on her otherwise soft skin.

It did not help at all that her friendship with Sam had always been touchy. From a young age, the two of them would hold hands or hug often. Many nights the two of them could be found cuddling on the large living room couch downstairs, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist, and her legs tangled together.

It had never bothered her before, despite many, many, many innuendos from her granddad, but suddenly every touch made her skin burn.

It was not as if they never had fallen in love before! Both of them had their own romantic adventures with other people, and they have always been honest about those, without any drama or jealousy. Why that insanity now?!

Estella knew it was horribly cliche, this whole thing about falling in love with her best friend, but the dreams made it an inevitability. She could not escape her fantasies of a domestic life with Sam, but there was too much at stake for her to ever reveal her feelings.

She could not even think about the possibility of him rejecting her without shuddering. At the very least, their friend group would shatter. She knew people would take sides and most of their friends would pick the lovable doof Sam over entitled princess Estella. Then, she would be forced to hang out with Haley, or worse, her own mother.

It was also not too difficult to conclude that, if Sam did not feel the same for her, she would lose him forever. She could not bear the thought of a life completely devoid of him. She would rather suffer the curse of eternal friendzone than the anguish of a ruined relationship, not to mention the fact that she would lose her relationship with Jodi, Kent and Vincent. They were like her second family and she could never hazard the possibility of ruining that.

So, Estella tried to pull back slightly, hoping that the distance would help rid her of those blasted feelings. Of course, the girl did not disappear completely from town, she was not able to stand the idea of that. She just… Stopped touching him as much and she spent more time in the farm than at the town square with him.

The auburn-haired girl could not tell if he noticed or not, but she dearly hoped that it all went on under the radar and he believed that everything was fine.

Estella looked around her room, realizing that the birds were not chirping on the trees near her window, and so it must already be well into the day. She spared a glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table and realized it was almost noon, which was very surprising, as she often rose at no later than seven o’clock.

She groaned as she realized that she was supposed to meet Sam nearly an hour ago. She hoped he would not be too angry that she overslept.

The farm owner’s granddaughter sighed and got up, her feet padding towards her dresser. She took a glance at herself in the mirror, grimacing at the messiness of her long and soft hair. She smiled, though, when she realized that, in last night’s sleep-induced haze, she had pulled one of Sam’s jumpers over her head.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the remnants of his scent on the sweater. He had forgotten the article of clothing at her house almost a season ago, when he trekked through snow for a movie night, but was driven back home on her mother’s garish pink convertible. The stupid infatuation was picking up steam by them, and so she hid it under her bed, wishing she could keep it for herself.

Luckily, Sam never seemed to notice he was down a sweater. Jodi must have thought he had ripped it irreversibly on a skateboard accident, as it often happens.

Her deep thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. She frowned and smoothed down her hair, unsure of who it could be.

She walked over and opened the door, only to be met by Sam barrelling through the doorframe.

“Sam?” Estella squeaked, surprise overtaking her. “How did you get up here?”

Sam ran a hand through his blond, stupidly spiky hair and turned to face her. “You really think that your family could stop me from checking on you?”

It was a lie, of course. He was deathly afraid of her mother, and had a profound reverence towards her grandfather. If either of them had told him he could not come up, he would never try to disobey.

“So… I’m wagering that they are out.” The girl jabbed, playfully.

“I saw your mother going out with the car, and your granddad is usually out on the fields at this hour.” He said with a flaunt, his commentary clearly intended to be a joke but the frown on his face ruining the effect.

She laughed softly, though the sound was hollow. She wrung her hands, preparing the apology that was about to spill from her lips.

“Listen, Sam…” Estella started, avoiding his gaze.

“What did I do wrong?” He asked suddenly, interrupting her in a most abrupt manner.

She froze, unsure of what to say. It seems that her hopes of counting on her friend’s overall detachment were about to be dashed.

“Because I think that you’ve been avoiding me and now, you’re not showing up for our plans, and I don’t know what I did!” He said quickly, the words spilling from his lips desperately.

She shuffled awkwardly in her place, next to the dresser.

“I didn’t mean to not show up this morning…” The girl said, meekly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Sam furrowed his thick eyebrows.

“So, you did remember that we had plans?” The boy questioned.

She looked up at him with an apologetic look.

“Of course, I remembered.” She said. “I just overslept.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping.

“I feel quite dumb now!” He joked with a laugh. “I overreacted quite a bit, don’t you think?”

Estella gave him a forced smile, knowing that, while he had been wrong about her ditching plans, she had, in fact, been actively trying to avoid him.

Sam flopped dramatically onto her bed, kicking off his shoes in the process.

“Please hold me. It’s been a day!” He said with a playful grin on his face, his arms outstretched to welcome her into his embrace.

She laughed and made her way towards him.

“Sam, it’s not even noon yet.” The auburn-haired replied with a smile. “Wouldn’t you prefer to at least have lunch beforehand?”

Despite her token resistance, Estella clamoured into bed next to him, feeling the warmth of his strong arms around her needy body.

“What about our plans?” She asked softly. “I thought we’d go to the community centre.”

Sam let out a non-committal noise and pulled his totally-platonic friend closer.

“We can always go next weekend. I want to hang out just you and me.” He said, earnestly. “I’ve missed spending time with my girl.”

His careless words sent a jolt of electricity up her spine. She snuggled closer into his chest, pretending for a moment that maybe he wanted her the way that she wanted him.

*_*_*_*_*

Several hours later, Estella woke up, still curled up next to Sam. At some point, the two of them had fallen asleep in her bed. She looked up to look at his sleeping face, admiring how his eyelashes fluttered against his skin. She reached up and poked his cheek, causing him to stir slightly.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” She said softly in his ear.

He groaned, stretching out his legs and his back. He reached up a hand and rubbed his droopy eyes. He seemed dazed and half asleep, not fully aware of what was going on. He looked at her face and she saw a gentle smile grace his lips.

“I think that you might be my soulmate…” He murmured softly, his eyes half-lidded and his voice groggy.

Estella felt her face fall in shock.

“What?” She whispered out numbly.

Sam seemed to wake up fully then, shooting up to sit in the bed. He put his head in his hands.

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

She sat up, brushing hair away from her face, and removed her hands from his face.

“Sam, honey.” She breathed, trying to keep her voice even. “Why would you say something like that?”

He looked at his lap, avoiding her gaze.

“I’ve been having these dreams, you know?” He began to explain. “Where you and I are, I don’t know, together, I guess. Happily married, boyfriend and girlfriend, something like that.”

It took everything in her not to gasp at his words. It was just like her own.

“Everything that happens in the dreams is just so perfect, and I know that you’re so perfect, even in the real world. If I could have a Stardrop here and now, I know that it’d show those dreams becoming reality. I really, really want to be with you, and this is my heart’s fondest desire.” He said softly.

Estella sat on the bed in shocked silence, unsure of what to say. How was that possible? That they had both been dreaming of one another?

“And now you’re turning so quiet, and I’m pretty sure that I just messed everything up, but I think that I love you.” The blond boy admitted. “I know I’ve always been shit at sorting out my own feelings, but something about these dreams seems too real for them to mean nothing.”

His voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, his eyes downcast as he took her silence as a rejection.

“I’ve been dreaming of you, too.” Estella finally admitted.

He looked up at his crush with a wide-eyed expression, a shocked smile spreading across his face.

“You have?” He questioned breathily.

The girl nodded shyly.

“I have. And I think you might be right.” She said softly. “I really do think we might be soulmates.”

Sam let out an airy laugh before tackling her into a bear hug. He was feeling so damn excited that he could swim to the Fern Islands and back. She giggled as he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and tickled her side.

“Sam!” Estella shrieked in excitement, slapping his shoulder playfully to make him stop teasing her.

“Hey, get used to it!” He said playfully. “I am your soulmate, after all.”

*_*_*_*_*

Stardew Valley Masterlist

#stardew valley #sam

[theradioghost]

could you elaborate on the long term plot of greater boston? i don't mind spoilers! i tried it but couldn't get past the first episode :( but i trust your taste and i've liked every other show you've rec'd so i wanna keep listening

EDIT: okay for some reason the formatting of this post is EXTREMELY befuckened and I can’t get it to behave, so it’s possible that this isn’t going to display with a spoiler cut and if so I am VERY sorry. the “keep reading” break is in the ask instead of the body of the post I have no idea what’s happening right now but if you don’t want spoilers please be aware this post spoils like everything about the show

Sure thing! I will .... do my best, but because of the nature of GB’s plot it’s a bit difficult to describe it without ending up either way too detailed or way too vague. But I will absolutely do my best because if there is any show out there that deserves it, this is that show. Cut for Obvious Spoiler Reasons!

So, there’s a LOT of plot that goes on, but what a plot summary could never convey is that the real heart and soul of this show is the characters. There are a metric fuckton of them, and every one of them is multidimensional and dynamic and wonderful, even if it’s not always obvious at first.

Leon Stamatis of course starts the show by abruptly dying of Existential Crisis/Panic Attack on a roller coaster, which sets everything else in motion. Of that big ensemble cast, at first the most important players are

Nica, Leon’s little sister who wants to be famous but doesn’t really have any concrete plans as to how

Dimitri, Leon’s little brother who is currently traveling in a submarine attempting to find Atlantis and keeps sending Leon letters, unaware that he’s dead

Louisa, Leon’s recent ex, a wedding photographer who later quits and becomes a crime scene photographer slash detective

Leon’s best friend/roommate Michael, who is unemployed and has just had a relapse after being sober for 12 years because he has no idea what to do without Leon

Gemma, a lesbian who absolutely hates her job as an editor at Third Sight, a company which publishes magazines relating to astrology/psychic stuff/divination/etc

Charlotte, Gemma’s pregnant wife, who has recently lost her job as an animation background artist and is feeling directionless

Professor Paul Montgomery Chelmsworth, aka the Mayor of the Red Line, a slightly eccentric college professor and casual friend of Leon’s who is inspired by his death to call for a referendum declaring that the Red Line of the Boston subway system will become an independent city.

It’s that last one that is the real ~main plot~ of the show: at first, more and more of the characters getting caught up in the campaign to create the city of Red Line, and then the chaos that results when they succeed and actually have to run it. But you also have characters like Louisa and Nica and Michael, dealing with a whole rainbow of grief and distress as they cope with Leon’s death. His eccentric personality is the other driving force of the show’s events -- Leon was caring and compassionate, but also obsessed with timetables, organization, and scheduling every action in his life down to the minute.

The other major force in the show is Third Sight, a magazine publisher with a focus on fortunetelling and the like; Michael ends up working there, along with Gemma and several other major characters. Third Sight also has an enigmatic boss no one has ever seen, who turns out to be a manipulative little bastard named Oliver West.

While Red Line successfully becomes a city, “Mayor” Chelmsworth turns out to have some major commitment issues and vanishes as soon as the vote passes, leaving Charlotte and Gemma to clean up the mess. Charlotte ends up interim mayor, but also begins to campaign for the upcoming mayoral election, in which she has two opponents: Isabelle Powell, a Black realtor and an incredible character whom I absolutely cannot do justice here, and Emily Bespin, Literally The Worst Person Who Has Ever Existed, Holy Fuck I Hate Her So Much.

The election is being manipulated behind the scenes by Oliver West, who also takes advantage of Nica’s isolation and a near mental breakdown to convince her to help him by orchestrating several escalating ~pranks~ in Red Line. Honestly he’s manipulating literally everyone, and also heavily backing Emily Bespin, in an attempt to profit off of influence in the new city. Eventually this ends up with Michael kidnapped and imprisoned, several other characters attacked and one badly hurt during a wedding in Red Line, and Isabelle Powell’s nephew framed for the attack. That results in Powell’s supporters beginning a set of protests which throw Red Line into even further chaos, even as Charlotte and Nica begin to have some real moral epiphanies about how they’ve been acting.

As events continue to escalate and the election draws closer and closer, the now-assembled cast have to figure out just who exactly is manipulating events and how -- not to mention how to prove Powell’s nephew’s innocence, what the hell has happened to Michael, and what the hell they’re going to do if Bespin wins the election and makes good on her promise to evict everyone involved in the protests.

Meanwhile, Dimitri is traumatized by finding a mass grave at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, gets rescued and then imprisoned in Alaska by infamous vanished plane hijacker DB Cooper, finally makes it home to Boston disillusioned and lonely only to inevitably find out his brother has been dead for two years, and then gets totally rejected by his sister, because he basically can’t catch a break.

Also meanwhile, the same conflicts playing out in Red Line play out on a more metaphysical level, in the structure of the show itself. While the first season only hints at the possibility that Leon might not be quite as gone as everyone thinks, as the show progresses Leon’s ghost makes his presence known by starting to argue with the omniscient narration. Increasingly taking over the show’s narration until a brilliant scene where said narrator quits and audibly gets up from the microphone and leaves, Leon, the man who spent his whole life trying to impose order on the chaos of the universe around him, finds himself battling the very structure of the story they’re in, in an attempt to help his friends as both he and they are caught up in the chaos of Red Line and Oliver West’s plans. Unfortunately, the structure of the story has other ideas, and plans of its own.

None of this, of course, even begins to touch on the cheese robots; or Michael’s ongoing struggle with self-actualization and alcoholism; or Mallory the foulmouthed teenager who somehow manages to first witness and then be involved in nearly every major plot event of the show; or the in-depth examination of structural racism as it relates to things like housing and city planning and Boston’s history and well-intentioned white liberals and the imprisonment of Black youth; or Star Trek obsessed chaotic neutral gay reporter Chuck Octagon and that one time he flirted with his own mirror universe self; or the complex but beautiful process of Charlotte and Gemma working on their relationship in the midst of all this chaos because while they have troubles throughout they truly love one another and are trying to be better people; or the fact that one of the other major characters is an insufferable Loud Vegan member of a polyamorous commune who -- on the advice of his ~spirit advisor~ the ghost of 19th century feminist writer Mary Wollstonecraft keeps changing his name throughout the show to things including Earthman, Panda Bear, Extinction Event, and Dipshit; or the unfortunately real Olive Garden food truck; or the laughter and the tears and the flamethrowers and the fact that one of the show’s most important and heartbreaking conversations takes place on an amusement park log flume ride audibly filled with liquid nacho cheese.

It’s a good show, is what I’m saying, basically.

#the podcast that never returned #more like THE SUMMARY THAT NEVER ENDED #I have no idea whether this is useful my apologies #Anonymous #asks #my posts

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

alpha/beta are carol/daryl foils: an analysis no one asked for; twd s10 spoilers, obviously

hoo boy. okay, so i’ve been intending to write this for days, but i had to let it marinate, and also i haven’t been sleeping and couldn’t concentrate long enough to write it down, but whatever, i digress. “we are the end of the world” was something, wasn’t it?? it is so weird to have a plotline in twd that’s like...good? and SO refreshing to have a villain who isn’t a macho, rapey, white dude. i personally believe that all showrunners should be women from now on. oh, i’m digressing again, my apologies.

here’s the actual content, under the cut bc it’s a fucking novel:

so, from alpha’s very first episode, when i saw her shaving her head, i literally thought, “oh, so she’s carol’s foil and they’re going to have an inevitable showdown, huh?” guess who was right? this bitch. but what i didn’t catch right away was how beta is also daryl’s foil, and how the main focus of this season is alpha/beta vs carol/daryl.

let’s take it apart individually first, yeah?

carol vs. alpha:

like i said, the scene that made me instantly aware of what they were setting up was when alpha shaved her head. carol’s hair was a big thing in season 9, and the fact that we had just had henry talking about carol growing her hair out long, juxtaposed with alpha shaving hers off, is what set the alarm bells off for me. i have said over and over that i don’t believe kang does anything unintentionally, and girl loves her symbolism, so those two opposing scenes was a taste of what she was setting up.

carol and alpha are both near-indestructible forces who also happen to be mother’s suffering the loss of their children at the hand of the other. (carol isn’t directly responsible for lydia, but she’s included with “the others” that took lydia from alpha, so i think alpha still sees her as part of it.)

carol and alpha both have transformed themselves to fit within the confines of the world they currently live in, while recognizing that their children weren’t meant for it, even within their own grief. let us refer to figures a and b (lol) below.

figure a:

here in “the grove” we have creepy girl who i hate and am terrified of asking carol if sophia died because she was weak, and carol straight up is like, “yes.” she doesn’t even sugarcoat it. she accepted that her daughter wasn’t going to survive from the jump, because “there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.”

figure b:

here we see alpha losing her goddamn shit, because she’s having a come-to-jesus moment with beta about losing lydia, because she can’t have lydia and be the alpha at the same time, because lydia “is not like” her. 

conclusion: carol and alpha both mourn for their daughters, but have accepted that to be the people they need to be in the apocalypse, their children needed to die (or in lydia’s case, be dead metaphorically). in short, carol and alpha are two sides of the same coin. they’ve both found ways to survive, except one is for the good guys, and the other is for the bad guys, and now they’re head-to-head, and it is d e l i c i o u s.

moving on.

daryl vs beta:

idk why the parallels didn’t occur to me when they had daryl fighting beta. i blame henry, he was distracting me by being a delightful idiot (rip my dumb bitch), but that seed was planted in season 9, too. go kang for continuity. who knew twd could do that? anyway.

the big thing that compares daryl and beta is who they were before they found carol and alpha respectively. we obviously don’t know a whole lot of details about beta’s life, but we have enough to extrapolate and compare, and extrapolate and compare we shall.

alright, so we got our favorite lovable, filthy redneck, who grew up abused and isolated, and then here comes the apocalypse, and the only person he has left is his brother, and that’s what defines him until he loses him, both when rick chained him to a roof, and then again, after a brief relapse, when merle sacrificed himself. 

next we have beta, who again, our info is limited, but he does not become “beta” until after whoever that walker alpha puts down is gone. judging by the size, approximate age, and the closeness beta had to him, i’m betting on, you guessed it, his brother. 

observe:

figure a:

figure b:

these are both turning points for these men, where they Fully Become the dudes that we know. daryl couldn’t be the daryl we know and love until merle was gone for good, and whatever his actual name is couldn’t become beta until smiley face shirt guy was smooshed. 

(side note: how fucking rank does that t-shirt have to be by now? at least the mask dries out, but do you think that t-shirt is just like, melded into beta’s skin at this point? gross.)

so time for the fun part.

alpha/beta and caryl in season 10:

season 10 finds both duos in similar circumstances, by which i mean, alpha and carol are losing their minds, and beta and daryl are like, “uhhhh, you ok?” the men are these women’s confidants, their person, the one they trust and love above all others. carol saved daryl and brought him into a community, and alpha did the same thing with beta. you want more visual aides? well, sure thing, scout!

figure a:

we’re carylers, we already know carol’s the reason daryl has the confidence and self-esteem to become part of the group, but juxtapose this with the following pic, which i will label

figure b (again):

and you will see that alpha sees something in beta that no one else does. she sees this lonely, talented man, who’s adrift and in solitude, and she essentially calls dibs. sound familiar? inorite?

so daryl and beta are now loyal to a fault to their women, and this season already has them being wary of how they’re acting. yes, i have more pictures. i like taking screenshots, okay?

figure a:

one of the first scenes we get with caryl is daryl asking carol if she’s still thinking about alpha, and if she is Dwelling, which is interesting, because...

figure b:

...that’s exactly the same thing we get with alpha and beta. the first scene in “we are the end of the world” with the two of them in present day is him questioning her motives, and then later on he’s like, “fuck, are you Dwelling?” 

and both women immediately are like:

and neither dude knows wtf to do about this, because they’re used to the women being the strong ones. carol’s whole, “you’ve got to feel it, but not me, i’m good repressing, conceal don’t feel” thing, mixed with alpha’s, “we’re living like the dead and the dead don’t feel emotions so obviously I Am Fine” motto is what their boys are used to, but suddenly carol is hallucinating dead children, and alpha is making shrines, and our poor dudes are like, “plz stop???” esp bc they know these women are FUCKING TERRIFYING, and should never be left to their own devices if they’re being crazy crackers.

ergo, both men are clinging to the hope that they can bring the women back from the brink. my last visual aides, yes i know, how sad:

figure a:

figure b:

both scenes have these dudes reaching out to their women and essentially expressing, in their own way, “i’m worried about you, can you plz stay within eyesight at all times, ilu,” bc neither daryl nor beta is equipped to have a nice long sit down conversation about feelings, and obviously carol and alpha wouldn’t bother to entertain it in the first place, so like  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. they tried. 

will it work? unlikely! because after that showdown at the end of both eps 1 and 2, these bitches ain’t about to stop for nothing. they just straight up made enemies for life, and they’re going straight harry potter with this shit, neither can live while the other survives, someone has to die, and while beta and daryl are not super on board with this whole “being bonkers and bent on revenge” thing, you better bet your ass that they’re going to make sure their woman is the winner, which means they automatically are paired up against one another as well.

so in a nutshell: we could have just stuck goatees on mmb and norman reedus, cast them as alpha and beta, and called them mirror!verse caryl (star trek reference, yay/nay?), because they’re mother fucking foils setting up for the mother fucking fight of the century, and oh my god, can you feel it in your bones how exciting it is that it’s not going to be a rick + negan dick measuring contest again? i am So Hype.

and ofc, as a hardcore caryl shipper, i obviously have to throw in that alpha and beta are totally in love (which is esp fun, bc whisperers aren’t supposed to feel love, uh oh, vulcan violation, yes i made another star trek reference, bite me), and if they are paralleling caryl, well...extrapolate from the evidence.

i love kang, you guys. i love how she tells a story. i love that she knows how to tell a story. this show is good again, and idk how she did it, but damnit, she did.

thus endeth my pointless critical analysis. forgive me. i was an english major and have absolutely no other use for my degree.

i’m ashamed too. 

that’s all. tomorrow is the early release of the caryl episode, i mean the new episode. looking forward to dying a valiant death with the lot of you. until then, friends.

deuces,

-diz

addendum: i was editing this, and was trying to think if there’s a parallel to the bracelet scene, and the only thing i could think of that alpha gives beta is his mask. she encourages him to take the face of his brother(?), and that keeps him grounded, which is interesting, bc my prediction for the bracelet is that it’s going to end up being a grounding device for carol when she’s dissociating. i don’t have a solid conclusion drawn there, but i thought i’d mention it before posting, just to plant the seed. 

k, done 4 real, bye

#alpha/beta #do they have a ship name? #bc i'm worried it's gonna get tagged in that weird kink stuff #gdi #whatever #moving on #caryl #carol peletier #daryl dixon #twd s10 spoilers #twd #dunlap tp

[alexsfictionaddiction]

10 of the best pandemic novels

It’s an understatement to say that the world as we know it has changed insurmountably over the last few weeks. We’re apart from our loved ones, most of our summer plans have been cancelled and we’re faced with more uncertainty than ever before. Pandemics and plagues have been present in horror, sci-fi and post-apocalyptic books for decades and they’ve always seemed to be exactly that. Abandoned cities, fast-acting deadly diseases and epic efforts for survival are things that happen in different worlds to our own but of course, they’ve never reflected reality more than they do right now.

I’ve been using this time to research and read a bunch of books that deal with pandemics and I wanted to share 10 of the very best of them with you. I completely understand if you’re trying to avoid these kinds of reads at the moment to limit anxiety or simply to escape. That’s why I also have a list of feel-good reads especially for you!

1. The Stand by Stephen King

The Stand is a book you’ll see on every pandemic fiction list because it is widely considered to be King’s masterpiece. The virus is really just the beginning of this enormous tome as its proceeded by ominous dreams, the inevitable end of days and the very real eternal battle between good and evil -perhaps not unlike some of your recent political discussions? Typical of a King novel, it’s populated by a huge cast of morally complex, tragic characters and there is an overwhelming sense of dread from the very first chapter. Expect a harrowing atmospheric read that will stay with you for a long time.

2. The Girl With All The Gifts by M. R. Carey

Essentially, it’s a zombie book but it’s also so much more than that. Set in a world where ‘hungries’ roam the wastelands, a select group of infected but high-functioning children are contained in a special facility. Amongst a ruthless scientist, a kindly teacher and a wary sergeant, child genius Melanie’s story will become one that haunts you in the middle of the night. It’s a classic page-turning thriller that isn’t an exact reflection of our current world but there are some eerie likenesses that will have you questioning who the real monsters are.

3. Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel

Station Eleven is so full of believable situations and characters that I could easily see the end of the Earth looking exactly like this huge sprawling landscape, dotted with towns populated by small groups of suspicious, scared people. It chiefly follows five principal characters -seasoned Hollywood actor Arthur Leander who dies on stage during a production of King Lear, his incredibly talented but unappreciated first wife Miranda, his oldest friend Clark, Jeevan Chaudhary who tried to save him and Kirsten, one of Arthur’s child co-stars whose life has been shaped by the events of that fateful night. It’s a beautifully written, expertly constructed book that explores loss, resilience and the heartbreaking notion of desperately trying to hold on to the past. You’ll want several boxes of tissues for this one!

4. The Fireman by Joe Hill

Ok, so the virus in this one isn’t QUITE like COVID-19 but the intense fear, teetering sanity and unexpected small rays of hope aren’t unlike our current set of feels. Dragonscale marks its host with black and gold and burns them up from the inside causing them to eventually spontaneously combust and no one appears to be safe from this horrifying end. We follow pregnant nurse Harper who bears the ominous marks but is desperate to live long enough to give birth and the mystery of the Fireman -an afflicted man who has somehow learned to control the fire within him. It’s a very original premise and although it’s another beast of a book at over 700 pages, it will have you gripped from the very first page.

5. The Book of M by Peng Shepherd

There’s something about memory that feels so precious to me. It may be because in a normal functioning brain, it’s the only thing that constantly keeps us company and therefore, in some ways it’s like an old friend. The Book of M features a virus where shadows have begun to disappear, leaving their humans with a strange new power but also with a rapidly deteriorating memory. Following Ory and Max -two halves of a couple who have been torn apart by the prospect of heartbreak- we meet a bunch of wonderful characters on a journey to New Orleans, where sanctuary reportedly awaits. I stayed up late to finish it because I became so invested in getting these characters back together but I was left completely thrown and sobbing my eyes out by the very cruel twist at the end. Yeah... brace yourself!

6. The Last Town On Earth by Thomas Mullen

Set in 1918 in Washington state, this story follows a small quarantined town trying to stave off the Spanish influenza. The effects of financial instability on the community, the fear of the unknown and the erratic actions of a panicked mind will definitely seem familiar in our current world. It’s an enclosed domestic drama with a lot of social history, tear-jerking moments and a truly explosive ending. I’m delighted that I discovered this emotional hidden gem!

7. Skin by Liam Brown

Skin describes a world with an extreme version of a COVID-esque virus. Everyone must completely isolate from everyone else including the people they live with and can only communicate from separate bedrooms via technology. But then our protagonist Angela spots a man outside without any protective gear on and he doesn’t even seem to be slightly sick. Full of intrigue, complex characters and a twist in the tale, it’s a fast read with a lot to say about contemporary society via a wry cynical voice.

8. Severance by Ling Ma

Candace Chen is a routine-loving millennial who turns ghost city photo-blogger when the deadly Shen Fever sweeps New York. Joining an eclectic band of survivors on a trek to a supposed sanctuary, she is harboring a secret of epic proportions. Things get progressively darker as the group begins to develop a cult-like dynamic and the seemingly self-elected ‘leader’ Bob becomes increasingly tyrannical. The sudden jolt out of ordinary life and the making and breaking of human relationships in times of hardship mixed with a touch of satire makes for a thoroughly entertaining, topical read.

9. Wilder Girls by Rory Power

I love a good boarding school novel and this is possibly the darkest, most unique one I’ve ever read. The Tox has left multiple pupils at Raxter School For Girls with deformities and they’re now waiting patiently for a cure. But then Hetty’s best friend Byatt goes missing and suspicion heightens as to what’s really happening on the remote island. I couldn’t shake the feeling of doom for the entire time and there was such a heavy gloomy atmosphere that seeps through the pages. There was a lot of buzz around this book on YA Twitter when it was released late last year and it’s definitely worth all of the hype! 

10. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

This impeccably strange, enchanting novel is a little glimpse into some of the weirder rooms of Atwood’s mind. Snowman lives in a tree on a deserted beach and spends his days foraging for scraps and mourning his best friend Crake and the woman he loved, the enigmatic Oryx. He seems to be the only human left but somehow he has become a prophet-esque figure to the beautiful, ethereal Children of Crake. The actual virus doesn't appear until the final 50 pages but we see the effects of it from the very beginning, so I was pretty eager to find out exactly what had happened, which kept the pages turning. Although it is funny in places and exceptionally thought-provoking, there is a lot of disturbing content to be aware of including animal experimentation and child trafficking and sexual abuse. It’s a horrifying window into a possible future if extreme capitalism and the fast advances in genetic engineering were ever to meet in a head-on collision. 

#pandemic fiction #dystopian #sci-fi #horror #books #bookworm #recommendations #book recommendations

[spacedancer1701]

Another Life - a Star Trek fic - (Chapters 26 - 30)

Sequel to ‘On Borrowed Time’

Fandoms: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (AOS) Pairing: McCoy x Original Female Character (Dr. Jennifer Hope) Characters: The Crew of the USS Enterprise (NCC-1701) Rating/Warnings: None Tags: Romance, Friendship, Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Angst/H/C, Caring/Protective/Tender/Comforting/Happy/Grumpy/Worried McCoy Word Count: This is a long one. Again. 😄 (71 chapters - 177k)

Read it on AO3: Another Life 

                                                                                                                                                                  Chapter 26  

Deeply touched by Hope’s words, McCoy’s heart was brimming over with love. What she’d just described was exactly how he’d always hoped to make her feel. Ever since he’d overheard her explaining this beautiful German expression to Uhura, that time in the mess, ages ago.

Geborgen.

They hadn’t been more than colleagues then, really, and yet, looking back, he knew he’d already been irrevocably in love.

“Tell me, love,” he asked, smiling down at her and suddenly feeling the need to hold her extra gently, her slight frame seeming even more fragile to him than before. “Does that mean you feel ‘geborgen’ with me?”

“Of course, I do, Leonard,” she chuckled, sounding surprised at the question, “very much so.”

“That’s good,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“How do you even know this word?” she asked, intrigued, turning around and pushing herself up to look at him.

The doctor let his gaze drift off into the distance, casting his mind back in time to when he’d first heard the expression.

“I've actually known it for quite some time,” he smiled, “and I've wanted you to feel that way ever since I first heard it.”

“Oh, come on, tell me already! Where did you first hear it?” Jenny, ever curious, whined and impatiently poked him in the ribs.

“All right, all right, I’ll tell you,” McCoy chuckled, always enjoying teasing her a little. “It was soon after you first came aboard. You were discussing linguistics with Uhura, talking about how some words were so hard to translate, because they had no equivalent in other languages. ‘Geborgen’ was one example.”

“I dimly remember this conversation with Nyota,” Hope wrinkled her nose in concentration, one of her many adorable mannerisms, “but I don't recall you being there.”

“Never mind, love, you were deeply engrossed in the subject,” McCoy remembered fondly, “and I was having a coffee at the next table, happy to just sit there and listen to the two of you nattering away. I recall thinking what a beautiful word it was, and how a girl like you should always feel that way.”

He took a deep breath, suddenly overcome with emotion, as it hit him how much he’d already cared for her even then.

“But it wasn’t just the word and all that it stands for, that resonated with me. It was the way you explained it, the way you talked about it so passionately, your voice so full of longing, that went straight to my heart. I could tell that you hadn’t just chosen a random example, but that this word held a lot of meaning for you personally. It was quite obviously something you deeply longed for.”

Hope’s eyes were growing wide, as she listened attentively. She was obviously only just beginning to understand quite how much attention he’d been paying to her from the beginning.

“I’ve wanted you to feel that way ever since,” he continued, reaching out to gently cup her cheek in his hand. “Every time I held you – or even just your hand, when you were scared or injured or troubled, I’d think, Please, let her feel ‘geborgen’ now. Like on your first assignment, when you were too scared to sleep. Or when you finally confided in me about your secret past. When I held your hand after you’d told me about what your friend’s father had done to you. And the night after, when I held you all night, sleeping in that cave. Or when I held you in my arms, shaken and shivering, after we'd saved that little girl from the pool. Those and all the other times, I was hoping to make you feel ‘geborgen’.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

“And you did, Leonard,” Jenny exclaimed, losing herself in his tender eyes, her heart melting, as she realised just how much she’d meant to him from the start. “Every time. All the time. You’ve made me feel ‘geborgen’ since my very first day on the Enterprise. Since long before we became lovers. Before you even knew the word. Because that's what you do, who you are. You give people ‘Geborgenheit’.”

She could sense McCoy’s emotion as he pulled her close again, and happily snuggled into his warm and loving embrace.

Her mind wandered back to the cave he’d mentioned earlier, making her smile.

“That night in the cave, you know,” she began, reaching up to caress his face.

“What about it, love?” he murmured, nuzzling her hair and nestling his cheek into the palm of her hand.

“That was the best night of my life,” she sighed dreamily.

“Oh?” he responded, and she could practically hear him lift an indignant eyebrow.

“Until then, at least,” she clarified quickly, chuckling when he grunted his approval.

“Seriously, Leonard,” Jenny went on, gently tracing his expressive eyebrow with her thumb, “lying in your arms that night, I remember thinking that, even on the cold, hard floor of a draughty and damp cave, I felt happier and more ‘geborgen’ than I’d ever felt before in my life. In fact, I probably didn’t realise the full meaning of the word until that night.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy exhaled deeply, taking a few moments to absorb her words, and letting them warm his heart and soul. His mind drifting back to that cave, he drew immense pleasure from knowing that he’d managed to make her feel the way he’d intended.

“You’re right,” he said at last, “that night was very special. It might well have been the night that changed everything.”

“How’s that?” she asked, intrigued, and he could hear how much she was enjoying this conversation, revelling in the memories of that particular night. “Was that the night you fell in love with me?”

“Oh no,” he chuckled, giving her an affectionate squeeze and planting a tender kiss on her head.

Her eagerness to make a trip down memory lane was tangible, and he was happy to indulge her.

“I fell head over heels in love with you the moment I first saw you. But that night in the cave was probably the first time I admitted it – if only to myself. Holding you like that, there was no more denying that what I felt for you was much more than just fatherly affection. I remember lying awake for nights afterwards, longing to hold you again, yet tormenting myself over the aberration of my feelings for you and blaming myself for letting it go that far. But, as we both know, in the end it still took a lot more time after that, an amazing vacation and some serious convincing on your side, until I finally gave in to the inevitable.”

He paused a little, shaking his head in silent wonder.

“What a waste of time. But then, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Getting to know you as I did, falling in love with you a little more every day, was just wonderful.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Leonard,” Hope said softly, regarding him tenderly. “It was just the same for me. Drawn to you from the moment we met and I volunteered to work in sickbay. Wanting to be near you and trying to stay away at the same time, for fear of being too obvious. Convincing myself that I was too young for you to take me seriously, that you’d never be interested in me as a woman.”

McCoy snorted and let his hands roam all over her body, smiling when he felt her shiver with longing.

“And what a woman you are,” he crooned. “All woman. Even though I agree, you were far too young, it was impossible to ignore your charms, I can tell you!”

Laughing and squirming a little under his teasing touch, she went on, “I adored you, Leonard. I admired you, and I was more than content to just be your friend. Even though it was obvious that you cared about me, I thought that was just part of being the kind of doctor you are. And I was, of course, perfectly aware that you were trying to gain my trust, hoping that I would open up about my past. But when I slipped into your arms that night in the cave, it felt like… it’s hard to explain… like coming home, like I belonged there. It was the most wonderful feeling. I even dreamed about you gently kissing me goodnight, practically feeling your lips in my hair.”

She shook her head, chuckling softly at the memory.

“You were still awake then?” McCoy burst out, still embarrassed after all this time.

“You mean,” Hope asked guardedly, “I wasn’t imagining it after all?”

“No, my love,” he replied guiltily. “I really did brush a kiss on your hair that night, when I thought you were fast asleep.”

He fell silent, ashamed of having lost control and taken advantage of the situation, if just for a single moment. It was against everything he believed in, definitely against his moral code as a doctor and as an officer. He’d been in charge, responsible for her, and she’d trusted him. And even though it had just been one innocent kiss on her head, he suddenly felt the need to explain.

“You have no idea what I was going through that evening,” McCoy sighed, unable to look her in the eye. “What being so close to you was doing to me. Our very private conversations, our voices so beautifully in harmony when we passed the time with that singing competition. I just couldn’t help myself, I simply had to let out some of all those pent-up emotions.”

He puffed out a self-conscious chuckle.

“And then, with you lying there in my arms, so completely trusting and peacefully asleep, or at least that’s what I thought,” he chortled, “I was overwhelmed by the intensity of my feelings. Completely unprepared for the depth of my love for you. And your pressing up against me while you were trying to get comfortable didn’t exactly help.”

“Wow,” was all Hope got out, quite obviously blown away by his revelation. “If only I’d known.”

She kissed him tenderly on the lips, lost in her own sweet memories of that night, and apparently not sharing his view that what he’d done had been in any way indecent. Looking at her sweet face, he could feel the romance of the night in that cave every bit as intensely as he had then.

“Every time I think I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I already do, you go and say or do something that makes me fall in love with you all over again,” she murmured, and McCoy was thrilled to know that he could still touch her this deeply with his words.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Anyway,” Jenny continued after a while, “after that night there was no denying that I was madly in love with you. Not only as my friend and mentor, but in every sense of the word. Nevertheless, it took an amazing vacation, as you put it, for me to feel confident that our age difference didn’t really matter to you, that you didn’t mind my lack of experience, and…”

“Silly us,” McCoy cut in, shaking his head, “there you were worrying about being too young and inexperienced, while I fretted over being too old to keep up with your youthful vigour.”

Jenny nodded, amusement lighting up her face and eyes.

“Sorry,” McCoy said softly, “I rudely interrupted you there. You were saying?”

“I was saying,” she smiled, feeling a little mischievous, “it took an amazing holiday and some minor signs of jealousy on your part, to finally make me realise that you might see me as a woman rather than a girl after all.”

Seeing McCoy flush a deep red at that, she could hardly keep from laughing out loud.

“Jealous? Me? You must be kidding!” he growled.

“Oh come on, I thought it was just so sweet,” she giggled.

“It was pathetic,” he grumbled, not even trying to deny it any longer. “And not something I’m proud of, either, I can tell you. But if it helped bring us together, I’ll gladly admit to it. I’ve never known jealousy like this before. And I certainly didn’t have the right to feel it, when we weren’t even together. But then, I’ve never before loved anyone else the way I love you, either.”

Jenny’s heart leapt with joy, hearing him declare his love for her like that. He was such a wonderful man, so special, and everything to her. And even though she knew how he felt about her, she could never get enough of hearing him say it out loud.

“Honestly,” McCoy went on uncomfortably, still dwelling on the subject, “I’ve never been the jealous type before. Not excessively, anyway. When someone left me for someone else, I always thought I deserved it. And when I found out that Jocelyn was cheating on me, I was more angry than jealous. The love was already gone.”

Jenny was sorry to have brought this up in the first place. She’d only meant to tease him a little, not upset him. But of course, she should have guessed that after Jocelyn, everything to do with infidelity would be a touchy subject for him.

“But with you, it’s different. Everything is,” McCoy continued quietly, and the earnest look on his face told her how important this was to him. “You’re special, Jenny. You’re … sacred to me, there is no other word for it. The thought of anyone else touching you the way I’m allowed to, makes me sick.”

“Me too,” she smiled, hoping to ease his mind and meaning every word. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to touch me that way, either.”

Then, thinking of all the delicious ways the doctor loved to touch her, she added with a grin, “Not that I think anyone could.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

McCoy felt heat rising inside him at her words, her cheeky grin telling him exactly what she was thinking right now. And although he was mentally kicking himself for having pursued the subject at all, he was grateful that she’d so expressly assured him of her faithfulness. Not that he thought her to be the cheating kind anyway. She might leave him one day, yes, but she’d certainly never cheat on him, of that he was sure.

“You don’t still feel jealous, do you?” Hope broke into his thoughts, the gentle concern in her eyes reminding him that she’d never mock his insecurities. “My dancing with Pavel, for example. Does it bother you?”

“No, of course not,” he was quick to reply.

Although he had to admit that watching her in Chekov's arms still rankled a little. But Hope was true and loyal to a fault, there was no doubt about it, and he really liked the young Russian, too. And even though it was obvious that the boy was still as infatuated with her as ever, Hope had never given him reason to believe that she felt anything but friendship for Pavel.

McCoy didn’t know how convincing he’d sounded, but Hope chose not to doubt his answer. And she certainly didn't offer to stop dancing with Chekov. He'd never ask her to give up something she loved on his behalf, no matter his feelings, and she knew that.

“I’m sorry I brought this whole jealousy thing up, Leonard,” Jenny smiled, kissing him softly and looking him straight in the eye. “And I certainly didn’t mean for you to explain or defend yourself. I just wanted to tease you a little, because it was extremely sweet and flattering at the time. And totally unfounded, I can assure you. I haven’t been interested in any other man since the day we first met. It sounds soppy, I know, but that’s just the way it is.”

“Can’t be too sappy for me,” McCoy countered, emphasising his use of the American term, touched by the way she’d tried to put him at ease, so typically Hope, always acutely aware of people’s sensibilities and needs.

Speaking of which, he thought, feeling another kind of need demanding to be taken care of. It would seem their conversation had made him want her more than ever. So, before she could say any more, he covered her mouth with a hungry kiss.

“I just can wait any longer, love,” he murmured against her lips. “That night in the cave? You want to know what I felt? I think I really need to show you rather than just talk about it.”

And remembering how he’d hardly been able to contain himself when she’d pressed up against him that night, trying to get comfortable in his arms, he felt a sudden urge to get even.

So, with a wicked glint in his eye that Jenny recognised only too well, and which sent a pleasant shiver of anticipation through her, the doctor focused all his skilful attention on her magnificent body. Grateful for every little thing in their past that had brought them together and led to the wonderfully fulfilling relationship they had now.  

                                                                                                                                                                  Chapter 27 

Hardly feeling his legs anymore, McCoy was dragging his exhausted body through the corridors towards his quarters. It had only been a week, but the evening cuddled up in bed with Hope, basking in memories and their love, seemed like a lifetime ago.

He remembered lying awake in the small hours of the next morning, unable to go back to sleep after having woken from yet another nightmare of Hope falling down crevices and worse. Still rattled by the events of the previous day, all he’d really wanted was to feel her warm and very alive body, peacefully asleep, nestled against him. It hadn’t been the first time, he’d come this close to losing her. And it very probably wouldn’t be the last. But he was certainly never going to get used to the feeling.

He wouldn’t have minded staying in bed forever, just holding her and keeping her from each and every harm, but of course, that was never going to happen. Instead, just like the dutiful officers they were, they’d got up in time for their shifts, and had helped pick up the pieces after the Trian earthquake debacle.

Fortunately, Trias hadn’t had to report many casualties, so the Trians had politely declined Kirk’s offer of additional medical support. They had, however, gratefully accepted the Enterprise’s geologists’ help, appreciating their vast experience and access to the Federation’s data banks regarding earthquakes. And, of course, the negotiations had to continue as well.

Kirk and McCoy had had a heart to heart over breakfast, Kirk’s refusal to go after Hope still hanging between them. But, as always, they’d quickly made up, both apologising and accepting the other’s apology in return. It was how their friendship worked. They didn’t need many words. With the Andorian ambassador already aboard, and the Tellarite ambassador still on the planet, McCoy acknowledged that Kirk hadn’t really had a choice, and that the decision had been hard on the captain, too, whereas Kirk admitted he’d been sure that the doctor would never leave Hope behind, and had, in fact, counted on him disobeying his orders and going after her anyway.

Besides, Kirk always cut Bones some slack regarding the way he talked to his captain. Or any superior for that matter. And frankly, he wouldn’t even want the doctor to hold back. His friend’s unfiltered words had often proved invaluable input, and the captain had come to rely on McCoy to speak his mind. Whether or not to follow the doctor’s advice, remained Kirk’s decision, after all.

As peacefully as the morning had started for McCoy, the respite from his fretting had been very brief, indeed, as by the end of the day, the doctor had had a sickbay full of security officers fighting for their lives after saving one careless ambassador from his own folly and getting themselves severely poisoned in the process.

Damn ambassadors!

Apparently, this idiot had been intent on getting a good look at the dinosaurs, and found a way to deactivate part of the forcefield. Finding himself attacked right after setting foot, or rather hoof, on the other side, the security detail had had no choice but to go after him and save his hide. Regrettably, while able to drive away the assaulting beasts, they’d got themselves stung by some symbiotic insects that turned out to be highly toxic for humans hours later, after they’d already returned to the Enterprise.  

Even with the Trians’ support, who’d instantly supplied all the information they had on the insects in question, it had taken McCoy almost two days to find an effective antidote. Two days of continuous lab work, while at the same time doing everything to keep the wide range of symptoms at bay. And not just rashes or itches, either, but severe symptoms like sudden heart or lung failure or temporary blindness.

With all this going on, the doctor hadn’t left sickbay for a minute those first two days and nights, and even when everybody had been given the antidote, he hadn’t really dared to leave his patients alone for long. In sum, McCoy had spent exactly half a night in his quarters all week, and then he’d been far too anxious and exhausted for more than a little cuddle with Hope. Spending actual time with her seemed like a distant memory.

Not for lack of trying on her side, though, he was ashamed to admit. Having to attend the negotiations all day, she hadn’t had a lot of time to spend in sickbay, like she normally most certainly would have. But she’d still tried to find time for a quick coffee in the evenings, at least. Every time she’d shown up, however, bearing gifts in the form of steaming coffee mugs, he’d found himself talking about nothing but his current medical issues. He knew, of course, how much she needed to talk about her day, share her experiences, too, but he’d simply not been able to really pay attention to any of her stories. Frankly, just seeing that she’d come back from Trias in one piece, had been all he’d needed to know.

Hope, unsurprisingly, had claimed she understood, letting him prattle on about his thoughts and theories, listening attentively to all his fears and problems. And he didn’t doubt that she did. So far, she’d always been very understanding where his job was concerned. The only question was, for how much longer?  Would she always put up with him being busy elsewhere for days, or weeks at a time? Or would she start turning to other people sooner or later? People – men – with time to spare, who were there for her? Like Chekov, for example? Maybe Jocelyn had been understanding, too, in the beginning. He honestly couldn’t remember.

So, now, McCoy was standing outside his quarters with a guilty conscience and mixed feelings, both longing to finally be with Hope again, but at the same time fully expecting her to be in a huff with him. All his fears were allayed, of course, the moment he entered and she came flying into his arms, wrapping him in love and tender kisses. He really should have known.

Drawing back a little, Hope’s eyes took on a concerned look.

"Oh, Leonard, you look exhausted!” she exclaimed, eyes glistening with compassion. “Come on, let me take care of you."

Taking him by the hand, she pulled him over to the bed, gently stripping him of his clothes along the way, made him lie down on his stomach, and started to massage his aching body.

“You’ve given your all this past week,” she murmured softly, as her hands caressed his back and shoulders. “Now it’s time to let go. No more decisions today, no more responsibilities. You just rest and let me take over.”

She's definitely too good to be true, were his last coherent thoughts, before surrendering to her gentle hands and giving in to the blissful feeling of being pampered and cared for.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny had expected a worn out and tired McCoy to come back to his quarters that night, and had already made preparations for a relaxed evening, wanting to make him comfortable and spoil him a little after the week he’d had. But when she saw how completely drained he looked, her heart went out to him.

She admired how committed he was to his job and his patients. The way he was a healer with all his heart was one of the things she loved so much about him. But his devotion sometimes bordered on self-destruction, and she’d made it her mission to look after him, whenever he was too caught up in his medical duties.

Only this time, with the negotiations going on, unfortunately, she hadn’t been around all that much. Christine, of course, always tried her best, too, taking as many responsibilities off the CMS’s hands as she could. But with everything going on in sickbay during the past week, the nurse had probably hardly been able to look after herself, let alone the doctor.

At least she could be here for him now, Jenny thought, looking fondly at Leonard’s familiar form, while her hands were trying to ease away the tension in his muscles. And she seemed to be doing a good job, judging from the little sighs and moans of pleasure her touches drew from him.

“I don’t deserve you, love,” he murmured sleepily, making her smile.

“No, you don’t,” she laughed affectionately, “you deserve much better.”

At that, McCoy turned around, rolling over onto his back, to look at her, the unbridled love in his eyes nearly taking her breath away.

“You know, I came here with a guilty conscience, love,” he smiled ruefully at her, “fully expecting you to be cross with me, or at least upset for having shamefully neglected you. But you gave me this prodigal-son-returns-home hug instead and said those magic words.”

“What magic words?” Jenny chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” McCoy answered dreamily, his eyelids drooping, and was fast asleep moments later.

Jenny gazed at his beautiful face, so relaxed and serene in sleep now, overwhelmed, once again, by the depth of her love for him. He more than deserved to be taken care of, and she was grateful that he let her, given that he usually liked it the other way round.

He was such a wonderful man, so very caring and generous, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his affected surliness. And she felt a rush of immense happiness every time she was reminded of what a special place she held in this big heart of his.

                                                                                                                                                                  Chapter 28  

McCoy and Hope were standing side by side on the observation deck, gazing out at the stars in companionable silence. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other’s warm and loving presence. The last few days, since they’d left the Trias system, had been blissfully peaceful, and between sickbay being unusually quiet, and Hope being busy doing all the things that Hope liked to do in her free time, the doctor had had time to reflect on their relationship.

He’d found that he always tried to be strong for her, to look out for her and protect her, because that was how he liked to see himself, what he wanted to be in his heart. But on closer inspection, truth was that even in the beginning, long before they’d become lovers, she’d been there for him just as much as he’d been there for her. He might have helped her through a difficult time during those first few months aboard the Enterprise, but she’d always proven herself immensely supportive and a great source of comfort in return, basically filling his life with happiness. A kind of happiness he hadn’t known before.

And even when she’d seen him at his worst, his weakest, when he’d broken down over Joanna’s illness, she’d shown nothing but strength and support, not once wavering in her love and respect for him. He’d been terribly embarrassed about losing it so completely in front of her, but she’d been adamant that that hadn’t been weakness at all. On the contrary, she thought that functioning as a scientist while beside himself with fear for his daughter had required exceptional strength, and that, if anything, that whole episode had made her feel even safer with him.

How does she always find the right words? McCoy thought fondly, and felt the sudden need to talk about all this to Hope. To tell her how much he loved and appreciated her, loved being in a relationship with her, but at the same time to open up about his fears, too.

“Our relationship is so different from my former ones,” he began quietly. “You are so different. You never nag me about committing myself too much to my job or neglecting you.”

“Why would I?” Hope answered, sounding sincerely surprised. “It’s who you are, it’s part of why I love you. You never “nag” me about immersing myself in my work, either. Or spending time with the band, practicing, or with Pavel, dancing, for that matter.”

She chuckled, her eyes twinkling in this gently teasing, adorable way that never failed to lift his spirits.

“Seriously, Leonard,” she continued, obviously realising that he needed actual reassurance, “I don’t feel neglected at all. In fact, and please don’t take this wrong, I need my time away from you. I mean, didn’t your exes have lives of their own? I enjoy spending time and doing things with my other friends, too. Just like I wouldn’t want you to turn your back on your other friends. I perfectly understand if you want to spend some time alone with the captain, or Scotty, or whoever. We’re not joined at the hip.”

A naughty glint lit up her eyes.

“Although I definitely enjoy the times when our hips…”

“Stop right there!” McCoy groaned, laughing, “I get the picture, thank you very much!”

And a moment later, he winked at her and whispered, “Uh, by the way, the feeling’s mutual.”

Hope laughed out loud at that, then got serious again and held his gaze.

“What really matters, Leonard, is that, whatever I do and whoever I spend time with, I’ll be coming back to you at the end of the day. That knowledge alone is enough for me to be perfectly happy. You’re my anchor, my rock, my… home. Yes, wherever you are, is home to me.”

She uttered those last words wonderingly, as if the fact had only just occurred to her.

“You’ll be there to share my worries and my joys, just as I’ll be there to share yours. And I know that, however busy you might be, you’ll always be there for me when I really need you. What we have is perfect, Leonard. At least for me.”  

McCoy was thrown. Hope’s words had gone straight to his heart, making him tingle all over as a comforting warmth spread through his body.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Not only do you accept everything I do, everything I am, without complaining, you even encourage me to stay that way. Surely, there must be something you’d like to change about me?”

“Not a single thing, Leonard. Because then you wouldn’t be you anymore,” Hope smiled lovingly, and then, eyes sparkling with mischief, added, “However, had you asked me, if I found some things about you irritating, now that would be a different story altogether…”

She jumped and laughed, when the doctor playfully poked her in the ribs for that last comment.

“Don’t be cheeky, Lieutenant!” he chided, squeezing her briefly before resuming his former position beside her, looking out at the stars.

Of course, by now everyone aboard the Enterprise suspected them to be more than just friends, and McCoy was sure they’d even approve of their relationship, but being too intimate in front of the crew just didn’t feel right. And he was grateful that Hope fully agreed with him in that respect.

Like she seems to agree with me in most every respect, he thought affectionately.

McCoy let a couple of minutes pass, just enjoying their closeness and the soothing view the picture window offered, before taking up the conversation again. There was still more he needed to address.

“It’s just that, sometimes, I worry that I’m asking too much of you,” he said softly. “When I can’t stop talking about work, even when I’m off duty, and you’ll listen patiently, help me get my thoughts in order, even give me new ideas and make me see things from a different perspective.”

“But isn’t that what partners do?” Hope smiled, turning to look at him again. “Support each other? You sure have given me more than enough support of your own since we met, don’t you think?”

McCoy nodded once, taking her point.

“But I can be a real old curmudgeon when I worry about something,” he went on, not yet ready to drop the subject. “I know that. What about the times when I’m moody and cranky and not in the mood for… you know what? You’re a healthy young woman, you have your… needs.”

Hope laughed out loud, tilting her head and gazing at him with a mixture of disbelief and reproach.

“You’re not serious now, are you, Leonard?” she asked, shaking her head. “Would you try to, or even want to … you know what … with me, if I weren't in the mood or had other things on my mind?”

“Of course not!” he shot back promptly, appalled by the very idea. “That would be nothing short of rape!”

Hope said nothing in return, but just kept looking at him, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbled after a moment and grudgingly agreed, “you’re right, of course. That was silly of me.”

Hope looked up at him with an indulgent grin, that mischievous glint, McCoy had come to love so much, returning to her eyes.

Leaning closer, she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, “But there’s something else, you know. And please don’t tell my partner I said that, but I’m okay with him not always being in the mood, because I know that he’ll be trying to make up for it the next time, and that’s really something a girl can look forward to. That’s when I get all my foot rubs and back rubs, and the most passionate … you know what… imaginable. Maybe I don’t tell him often enough – don’t want him to get big-headed, but my partner is the most wonderful lover. So, no complaints in that regard whatsoever.”

Hope straightened up again, moving slightly away from the doctor and trying hard not to guffaw, when she saw the colour that had risen to McCoy’s cheeks.

“And now you’re wondering where, the hell, she’s gone, this shy and innocent girl you first fell in love with,” she giggled, her eyes shining with mirth.

“Something along those lines, yes,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’ve got sad news for you, Doctor,” Hope responded with a look of fake regret on her face. “That girl’s gone for good. And that sure is one thing you have to take all the blame for.”

McCoy couldn’t help grinning, and squeezed her waist, before she continued.

“I mean it, Leonard. You’re a doctor,” Hope’s eyes were serious again. “You don’t stop caring about your patients when you’re off duty. You can’t quit searching for solutions until you’ve found them, when it’s a matter of life and death. And you need a sounding board, or you’d go mad with your thoughts going round and round in your head. So, what’s the big deal? When you’re pouring over a problem, I’ll listen. When you’re in the middle of an emergency, I’ll try to support you and your team the best I can. It’s the least I can do. We’re on the same side in this. In everything. And you’ve always supported me, too.”

For the umpteenth time, McCoy found himself in awe of Hope’s keen insight, belying her youth and making her seem mature beyond her age. How did she always do this? Put his fears into a few simple words and then dispel them just like that.

He admired her level-headedness and appreciated her matter-of-fact way of speaking. That no-nonsense attitude he’d come to like and rely on to help him put his own feelings into perspective. And yet, Hope was far from cold or lacking emotion. On the contrary, she was the most warm-hearted, outgoing and affectionate person he knew. Quite how she managed to unite those two sides so effortlessly within her, eluded him, and certainly never ceased to amaze him.

McCoy had always thought himself a total failure when it came to matters of the heart. Seen himself as unfit for relationships, always feeling guilty for having disappointed yet again. No matter how much he loved them, he just couldn’t make a partner happy. Up until now, that was. Until Hope. Now, all of a sudden, he considered that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t been the only one to blame. That maybe it had been them as well. Maybe he’d just never met the right person before. For Hope surely seemed very happy with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Spock was sitting in a corner at the far side of the observation deck, suppressing a very un-Vulcan smile. Of course, he’d never say anything, but he was pleased that McCoy and Hope were so happy together. It certainly kept McCoy mostly out of his hair nowadays, his contentiousness having diminished somewhat. And he felt admiration for Hope coping so well with always being somewhat of an outsider in this time, feeling a sort of connection with her there.

He had, of course, been trying not to listen in on their private conversation and to concentrate on his reading instead. Why did humans keep forgetting about the sensitivity of his Vulcan ears? McCoy and Hope had been talking too quietly for any other human to overhear, but it had been more than loud enough for him to be able to make out every word.

And even though he knew that social convention demanded he respect their privacy, his curiosity had got the better of him. Curiosity being the one emotion he allowed himself to have. Even if, in this particular case, it might also have been the interest of a caring friend. Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t stop him from wondering where the two of them were headed next, when he saw them leave the observation deck holding hands shortly after.

                                                                                                                                                                  Chapter 29  

Life couldn’t get any better than this, McCoy thought. A quiet sickbay, plenty of free time, and Hope, safe and sound, filling every space in his life and in his heart. Long conversations over dinner and coffee, hot, sneaky kisses in the turbolift or even in his office, after watching her moving suggestively around sickbay or throwing him naughty looks across mess halls and briefing rooms, incredible nights and tender mornings in his quarters. His face hurt with the unaccustomed strain of constantly smiling, and his heart ached in the best of ways, whenever he had to wait for the next private moment with her.

He couldn’t remember ever loving anyone more than Hope, and he was a hundred percent sure that he’d never been loved half as much before, warts and all. What she saw in him, he had no idea, couldn’t grasp even though she was happy to list a thousand reasons whenever she saw the doubt in his eyes. He was, however, getting better at not questioning it too much, and trying to simply delight in his luck instead.

The psychologist in him suspected that the reason why they felt so deeply for each other lay in the life they led, the excitement, the danger, the fear of losing the other. But then he thought back to their first shore leave, the one that had finally brought them together. There hadn’t been any excitement or fear there at all, unless maybe you counted a four-year-old falling into a pool. But helping an elderly couple across the beach or sharing a cake with a lovely teenage boy was hardly adventurous, not even at a stretch. And yet, he’d fallen a little more in love with Hope with every little gesture, every little thing she’d said or done during that glorious week.

No, life couldn’t get any better than this. McCoy knew that. Just like he knew that good things didn’t last. At least not in his world. Hope and he both had beaten death and disaster too many times. One of these days, they just had to run out of luck. Even a logical mind like Spock’s, calculating the odds, would have to agree. Despite feeling on top of the world, or, given the doctor’s disposition, more likely because of it, every happy thought was immediately followed by dread. Dread of this bliss ending somehow, and probably sooner rather than later. He couldn’t help it, he was wired like that.

-x-x-x-x-x-

This time, disaster didn’t strike, but crept up slowly. One day at a time. Jim had taken a landing party to a small, uninhabited planet. Just taking a few samples, having a look at the wildlife, nothing out of the ordinary. Everybody had been routinely checked and decontaminated on return, mission over. Or so they’d thought.

Three days later, Lt. Linden, a botanist and part of the recent landing party, arrived in sickbay with a stiff neck and a slight headache, asking for a pain reliever. McCoy didn’t think much of it. Unlike other people, Jim, for instance, who were permanently stressed and tense, Linden rarely came to him for painkillers or with other medical issues. So he just briefly ran a tricorder over her and sent her off with a mild analgesic.

The next day she was back with a full-on migraine, something she’d never suffered from before, dark circles around her eyes, and a feverish hue to her cheeks. McCoy put her on a biobed for a thorough examination, but couldn’t find anything wrong, apart from a slightly raised temperature. Nevertheless, he took blood samples, and put her under quarantine along with Kirk and the other members of the landing party as a precautionary measure.

Too late, as it turned out, even though Linden’s first blood tests, according to which she should have been in excellent health, still didn’t give any explanation. Only when McCoy drew some more blood and started over again, did he detect some kind of virus, unlike any he’d seen before. Going on to test Jim and the others, now that he knew exactly what he was looking for, he found them all infected by the same virus, even though none of them displayed any symptoms.

Cursing under his breath, mostly because he hadn’t detected any infectious agents when he’d first checked the landing party after their return, he assembled a team and set up camp in the biolab, not intending to leave until he’d found a way to get the captain and the others out of quarantine again.

It was a good thing he was a devoted scientist as much as a healer. Although, when he’d first joined Starfleet, he’d somehow imagined he’d be mainly dealing with accidents or war injuries. Smashed bones, haemorrhaging wounds, burns, that kind of thing. Maybe the odd appendicitis or upset stomach. He’d certainly not expected to be dealing with new diseases all the time. But then, he’d always said that space was disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence, hadn’t he?

Hope, bless her, had immediately cancelled all her linguistic activities and come to help Chapel set up and get organised for having eight people quarantined at the same time. She’d also come to the lab several times, trying to counter the increasingly frustrated mood with her natural optimism. And it worked, for every time she left again, his team seemed to be more focused on their tasks, more determined to find a cure for their captain and the others.

Things took a turn for the worse, when Ghatak, a member of the science department and one of Spock’s senior officers, didn’t show up for his shift, and was found dead in his quarters, obviously surprised by a heart attack while having a shower. Meticulous as he was, McCoy checked him for the virus, too, and to his horror found that Ghatak had been infected, even though he hadn’t been in the landing party.

That discovery, of course, immediately eliminated any hope of containing the virus, and McCoy quickly had himself and all sickbay and lab personnel tested. The result was devastating. They all tested positive, all but Hope, a silver lining that sent a feeling of disproportionate relief through his body. The next step, of course, was to have everybody aboard tested, and since Ghatak had neither been on the planet nor in sickbay recently, the odds in favour of finding more infected crew members throughout the ship scared the doctor.

To get her out of sickbay and away from himself and the other carriers, McCoy sent Hope on her way to collect blood samples from everyone, trusting that she understood the importance of wearing full protective gear for her own safety. The thought that he might not be able to hold or kiss her for a long time, if ever, briefly crossed his mind, making his blood run cold, but thankfully, there were a million other things to consider right now, keeping him from dwelling on that unwelcome thought.

By the time all blood samples had been tested, McCoy was no step closer to understanding what this nasty little virus actually did to the human body, let alone to finding a cure. All he knew was that the speed at which it spread was terrifying. This was one vicious little devil, and every single person aboard the Enterprise had tested positive. With two exceptions. Green-blooded Spock, which wasn’t all that surprising, and Hope, which was a complete mystery to the doctor. McCoy was convinced it had something to do with her 20th century physiology, some immunity she had that had been lost over the centuries. But damn if he knew what it was.

McCoy was sorely tempted to put Hope under quarantine now, to keep her safe, but his reasonable doctor’s brain convinced him of the absurdity of that. Instead, he settled on checking her for everything he could think of, hoping to find any clues as to her immunity. While he drew gallons of blood from her to examine, she mentioned feeling like Chekov at the time he’d been the only one in a landing party who hadn’t mysteriously aged, having heard the full story from Pavel several times. 1)

McCoy had, of course, already thought of and checked for that, too. To no avail.

“Pavel had been too scared that time. So maybe I’m too happily in love?” Hope joked, and the doctor couldn’t help smiling despite his growing frustration.

“But then I wouldn’t be infected, either, love, would I?” he countered, raising an amused eyebrow and briefly caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

“You might be as much in love as I am, Leonard,” she said softly, and he could see that she was only half joking, “but with all your constant worrying, I’m afraid you can’t even begin to imagine the blissful happiness I’ve found in you.”

McCoy smiled and patted her cheek, closing his eyes for a moment to savour her words, and then told her to stay put for a couple of minutes to let her body recover. Maybe she was right, he’d give that theory another shot during his tests.

However, when more and more crew members came down with widely varying symptoms at an increasing rate, he gave up on analysing both the virus and Hope’s blood. It had become pretty clear that the virus simply targeted the weakest organs in every human’s body, and McCoy resorted to less refined methods, simply testing the effect of Hope’s blood on the virus. The result was amazing. Hope’s blood killed the virus. So, he started to work on a serum based on Hope’s blood.

Then another man died. Again one of the older crew members, one of Scotty’s trusted engineers and only ten years older than McCoy himself. The man had already undergone several kidney transplant surgeries and had died in his sleep.

Time was of the essence, and the doctor found that he couldn’t waste any more on research and testing. All he could think of was that he had to come up with an effective serum before he, too, started to have symptoms that might render him unfit for work. Much as he trusted and admired Spock, Jim and the first officer were busy enough running the Enterprise with half the crew already unfit for duty. The Vulcan would hardly have time to replace him and supervise his team’s progress on a serum on top of everything.

Deciding that it was time for more drastic actions, McCoy adapted the crude serum they had so far for his blood type and injected himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this, either, he grinned to himself while he waited for the serum to show effect. 2)

Although glad that he suffered none of the side effects he’d been half expecting, he soon realised that the serum had no effect on him at all. The virus lived on inside him, happily reproducing away. Not one to give up easily, McCoy injected himself two more times with ever increasing dosages, and almost cried with relief when it finally worked. Checking the results several times over, hardly believing that the virus had really been neutralised, he tried not to think of the amount of serum, and consequently Hope’s blood, it had taken to cure just one person.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Jenny nearly kissed the doctor right there in the lab, in front of everyone, when he told her the good news, and was happy to donate more of her blood for the serum. Apparently, McCoy hadn’t yet been able to determine what exactly it was that killed the virus, but for the time being seemed satisfied to know that it worked at all.

The doctor intended to treat the most urgent cases along with Kirk and the command crew next, and then take it from there, trying to get as much serum out of Jenny’s blood as possible. He was hoping to use his own blood and that of the other cured crew members soon, too.

“With the amount of blood we’ve drawn from you, I need you to promise me to be good and not get up any time soon, love,” he smiled as he personally set up the drip to compensate for her blood loss next to the biobed she was lying on. “I’ll be pretty busy and won’t be able to check on you. Can I trust you there?”

His tired eyes were filled with love and worry, and he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead when no one was looking.

Jenny wanted to hold on to him, feel his arms around her, comfort him and be comforted. But of course, that wasn’t an option. So she just nodded and waved him off to get on with the serum. And feeling, indeed, tired and a little woozy, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

1) Reference to the TOS episode “The Deadly Years” 2) Reference to the TOS episode “Miri” 

                                                                                                                                                                  Chapter 30 

Mere seconds later, at least that’s what it felt like, Jenny woke up to the sound of Kirk and McCoy’s hushed voices in the middle of a whispered, but heated argument.

“There’s no way Hope can provide enough blood to save everyone aboard, Jim!” the doctor hissed. “Not within the necessary time frame, anyway. It’s much too risky, there’s only so much blood a human can give without suffering permanent damage or worse. You can’t ask her to give any more, and I certainly won’t allow it!”

“I understand your concern, Bones,” the captain whispered back placatingly. “But what’s the alternative?”

“I have no idea, Jim,” McCoy sounded defeated. “I’ve not even figured out what kind of antibodies her blood contains, let alone why my own blood, or yours, is useless. Maybe ours will develop whatever Hope’s contains with time. Time we don’t have.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Kirk’s voice was strained. “We’ve cured the commanding officers and a few more, what do we do now? Draw lots? Choose randomly, by rank, age, name in alphabetical order, and leave the others to die?”

“Well, as a doctor I’d start with those suffering from the most severe symptoms, of course, but maybe you and Starfleet have other priorities,” the doctor snapped, before letting out a resigned sigh, and Jenny’s heart broke at how deflated he sounded.

“I don’t know, Jim.”

“Well, you should, Bones!” the captain hissed, desperation making him bitter. “You’re the doctor, find a solution!”

“Jim, I…”

“And if you ask me, the solution is lying right over there.”

Jenny couldn’t stay out of it any longer. They were talking about her, after all.

“Captain,” she spoke up, “of course I’ll help in any way I can.”

Both heads whipped around, and McCoy was at her side in an instant, putting a protective hand on her arm.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kirk smiled, coming over to stand at her other side.

“Jim!” McCoy growled, his tone warning.

The captain nodded at his agitated friend, then returned his gaze to Hope.

“But let Dr. McCoy explain the risks before you make a decision,” he finished.

“Okay, Doctor, I’m listening,” Jenny said, following Kirk’s lead and deliberately using Leonard’s title to make it clear that she was talking to him as a Starfleet officer and not as his partner.

“This is serious, Lieutenant,” McCoy fumed, eyes blazing as distress turned into anger.

Jenny was immediately sorry. Leonard was understandably worried and exhausted, he felt responsible and helpless, and the thought of having to put her at danger in order to save a few hundred other lives certainly freaked him out.  

“If you give too much blood too fast,” the doctor continued, his voice losing its sharp edge when he saw the sincere apology in her eyes, “you’ll go into shock, and then, heart attack, stroke, organ failure, brain damage, take your pick.”

“I see,” she murmured, lifting his hand from where it was still resting on her arm and lacing their fingers together. “But we won’t let it come to that, Leonard. You can monitor me and stop anytime.”

“All right,” McCoy sighed, capitulating after a few moments’ hesitation, and squeezing her fingers, “but only a little more today, and we’ll take it slowly, okay? We’ll set the pace according to the drip.”

“Deal,” Jenny smiled, hearing Kirk exhale deeply in relief before quietly leaving the room.

McCoy made her drink a big glass of orange juice, then fastened a new bag to the drip, and sat down next to her on the bed.

“Didn’t you use some kind of stimulant for increased blood production on Spock when your operated on Sarek?” Jenny asked. “Couldn’t we try that on me, too?” 1)

“Not possible, I’m afraid,” McCoy shook his head. “That only works for copper-based blood.”

Jenny puffed out a frustrated sigh.

“I know you want to help so badly, love,” the doctor smiled, tenderly brushing her hair from her face, “but the best way to do that, is to relax and try to waste as little energy as possible. The less you move, the more blood your body can spare.”

“Got it,” she smiled back, closing her eyes and trying to relax as much as she could.

“And while you rest, I promise I’ll find a way to improve the serum to get even more dosages out of your precious blood,” McCoy whispered close to her ear, brushing a gentle kiss on her temple and then straightening back up to hold and caress her hand.

“Aren’t you needed elsewhere?” Jenny asked, starting to feel lightheaded and drowsy.

“Believe me, love,” he chuckled, continuing to draw little circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I can do with a little break, too.”

It was true, of course, the doctor was desperately in need of a rest. Only, she knew that, if not for her, he’d never take time for even the shortest break in a situation like this.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next time Jenny woke up, she felt a gentle hand on her cheek. Opening her eyes, she leaned into the familiar touch and smiled at McCoy’s worried and tired face.

“How’re you doing, Sleeping Beauty?” he murmured, his affection rippling through her body like a soft breeze.

She’d never get over how his endearments made her feel, no matter how patronising or unoriginal. Only southern charm could pull that off.

“How did it go?” she asked, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

“Worked like a charm,” he smiled, glancing at the monitor above her head to check the readings.

“Everybody cured?” she enquired hopefully, but could see the answer in his eyes even before he opened his mouth again.

“Not quite yet, love,” he said, and Jenny sensed that he’d rather not told her, but didn’t want to lie to her either.

“Why did you stop?” she wanted to know, even though the reason was pretty clear.

“I had to,” McCoy simply said, tenderly cradling her face in his hand, as his eyes told her everything from the love he held for her to the grief he felt for the patients who hadn’t made it, or wouldn’t make it.

“But we’ll ask you for a little more of your blood tomorrow, love,” he continued, gently running his fingers through her hair.

“Why wait?” she asked, not caring that she sounded like a petulant child. “I don’t feel weak or anything.”

“Believe me, you would, if you were to get up and move around,” he said softly. “Promise me that you’ll move as little as possible. Your body can’t take any strain right now.”

When she just frowned at him, he chuckled, “I know you’re used to doing things fast, my little whirlwind, but even your body needs time to produce blood, you can’t just will it to work faster.”

His words were breezy and kind, but he couldn’t quite hide the fact that he, too, felt desperate and impatient, especially when he kept glancing at her readings, as if hoping to find better ones the next time he looked.

“Oh Leonard, how bad is it out there?” Jenny wanted to know, nodding towards the rest of sickbay.

“Bad enough,” he replied, “but we’re still making progress. Thanks to you.”

There were tears in his eyes now, as he leaned down and brushed a kiss on her lips.

“How many?” she asked, knowing she didn’t even have to add the word ‘dead’.

“Four now,” McCoy answered, his voice sounding choked.

“Who?” she whispered, realising that it made no difference, but needing to know, anyway.

McCoy gave her the names, and they both fell silent, each of them lost in their own memories of the departed.

Jenny knew perfectly well how devastated the doctor was by not having been able to save them, by being so helpless. But she wasn’t, she could help.

“Let’s not waste any more time, Leonard,” she said determinedly. “Draw some more blood now.”

“No way, love!” McCoy shook his head vehemently. “We can’t risk that.”

“I can,” she insisted. “How do you think I feel, lying idly around while someone else might die?”

The doctor just looked at her, a tear running down his cheek, as he silently shook his head again.

“Please, Leonard?”

Another shake of the head.

“Do you even have enough room in sickbay?” Jenny persisted, regarding the dark rings around his eyes. “You must be run off your feet by now.”

“Don’t worry about me, love,” he started to get up. “It’s my job. I’ve been through worse.”

Holding on to his hand, Jenny pleaded with him.

“Leonard, I need to do this. Please let me.”

McCoy refused to meet her eyes, still trying to pull his hand away.

“You wouldn’t hesitate to do it yourself, if you could,” she murmured.

“But I’m a doctor,” he protested. “I took an oath.”

“And I’m your partner,” Jenny said emphatically, feeling that was reason enough. “How much more do we need?”

“No one’s going to die while you’re regaining your strength, Jenny,” McCoy tried to avoid answering her question.

“You can’t promise that, Leonard,” she said softly, “and you know that I know.”

That, at least, brought a little smile to McCoy’s face.

“So, how much more?”

“250 ml,” he finally told her.

“But that’s really not that much, is it?”

“It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t already donated so much. Jenny,” the doctor lifted his hands imploringly, “your body has reached its limits. You need to accept that. We all do.”

“You’ve just said it. It’s my body. My decision.”

Jenny just couldn’t give up. Not now that they were so close. They couldn’t fail because of a mere 250 ml.

“But your health is my responsibility, and I can’t let you risk your life like that. I love you, Jenny” the doctor said quietly, his sad eyes affecting her far more than his anger ever could. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“That’s not fair,” she whispered, feeling immensely tired and close to tears. “You know that it does.”

McCoy looked at her for a long moment, then sat back down and took a deep breath.

“All right, love,” he sighed, “let’s do this. But I’m not leaving your side. And when I say enough, we’re done. No argument.”

“I promise!” she smiled, settling back comfortably and watching him cross the room to shut the door.

Then he gestured for her to move a little to the side, sat down alongside her on the bed with his back resting against the wall, wrapped one arm around her, and pulled her head against his chest.

“You just rest, and I’ll be watching over you, love,” he murmured, tenderly kissing the top of her head.

Jenny drifted in and out of sleep, relishing the doctor’s warm embrace and the gentle caress of his hand, as he softly talked to her about anything that came to mind.

A sudden commotion outside, thumping noises and shouting, startled her wide awake again, and McCoy bolted out of the room to deal with whatever had just happened in sickbay.

Heaving a sigh, Jenny closed her eyes again, feeling increasingly nauseous and drained in every sense of the word. The monitor above her emitted a low beep, signalling that one of the parameters McCoy had set for her had dropped below the limit.

Checking the readings on the second little monitor by her side, she saw that the amount of blood still needed, was down to 5 ml. A ridiculously small quantity. Surely she could hold out that much longer.

Taking advantage of the fact that McCoy was still distracted outside, Jenny sat up and reset the parameters. Good thing she’d worked in sickbay for a year and had also learned a few tricks from Scotty. She wasn’t really feeling sick or anything. Four more millilitres wouldn’t kill her. And Leonard would finally have enough serum for everyone.

Lying back down, she kept her eyes on the monitor.

Three more millilitres.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she found herself at the beach with Leonard, splashing around in the shallow water, their cool, wet bodies sliding against each other.

Two.

She was in the middle of a beautiful meadow, running around, hand in hand with Leonard, chasing a butterfly.

One.

Leonard’s face was close to hers, as they danced to a Faith Hill and Tim McGraw duet. Their arms tightly wrapped around each other, she tilted her face up towards his, moulding herself against him, as his soft lips finally found hers.  

-x-x-x-x-x-

When the flatline alarm sounded throughout sickbay, McCoy was gripped by terror like he’d never been before and stormed back into Hope’s room, almost crazy with fear. For a long, horrible moment, staring at Hope’s small form lying there on the biobed, completely still and white like a sheet, lips curled in a peaceful smile, the only thought his panicking brain could come up with was ‘Sleeping Beauty’.  

Then his medical mind finally kicked in.

1) Reference to the TOS episode “Journey to Babel”

-x-x-x-x-x-

Continue to: Chapters 31-35        Chapters 36-40       Chapters 41-45            Chapters 46-50                     Chapters 51-55                       Chapters 56-60                            Chapters 61-65                    Chapters 66-70              Chapter 71         

Go back to: Chapters 1-5 Chapters 6-10 Chapters 11-15   Chapters 16-20    Chapters 21-25 

Or read it on AO3: Another Life

************ Disclaimer: Nothing of or associated with Star Trek is mine – it all belongs to Paramount / ViacomCBS (or whoever else is currently holding the rights). This is a work of fanfiction, no infringement intended.

#Leonard McCoy #bones mccoy #mccoy fic #bones x ofc #bones/ofc #mccoy x ofc #mccoy/ofc #another life by spacedancer #Dr. Jennifer Hope #mccoy x hope #mccoy/hope #bones imagine #bones fluff #mccoy imagine #mccoy fluff #bones romance #mccoy romance #star trek #st: tos #st: aos #tos fic #aos fic #bones mccoy fic #leonard mccoy fic #mccoy x original female character #mccoy/original female character #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #star trek fic

[samclownchester]

Supernatural Rewatch 01x06

Skin

(Next Episode | Masterlist | Previous Episode)

So we start out with Sam and Dean talking about Sam’s attempts at maintaining contact with his college friends.

Dean: So you lie to them? Sam: No, I just don’t tell them everything Dean: Yeah, that’s called lying.

Interesting … considering how Dean reacts to being lied to in later seasons, it is interesting to note that he kind of has this black and white view of it while Sam is more comfortable telling people what they are comfortable hearing (look back at 01x01 and their different reactions to their dad letting them know about monsters at a very early age) Dean doesn’t like half-truths, even for other’s protections. (Not that he never lies throughout the series, this is another good idea for analysis)

Sam: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? You’re serious? Dean: Look it sucks but, a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

This episode we get to see more of Sam’s focus on people he cares about.

Did Sam really just ask his friend Becky to make them sandwiches?? Wow. (I know that this was to get her out of the room, but this was before “make me a sandwich” became such a big meme. It’s extra funny that they do it again in season 15 (When Deans asks the woman to leave so he can confront the Djinn) but they’re much more self-aware about it)

Dean: “One thing I learned from Dad, not matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there is one sure way to kill it”

Sam: “silver bullet to the heart”

So they have dealt with Shapeshifters before, or at least Dean has. But maybe it was a different kind? One that didn’t shed the way this one does?

 Dean: I hate to say it, but this is exactly what I’m talking about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. 

(file under – the queer coding of Sam Winchester)

Ok, I don’t know how much we can rely on the Shifter’s words about how Dean feels but, assuming we can;

Shifter!Dean: You got to go to college … I had to stay home with Dad, you don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me, where the hell where you? … deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends; you could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak, and sooner or later everybody’s gonna leave me.  … You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me too and he left me too. No explanation, nothing just – left me with your sorry ass.

 So, this tells us that Dean did have dreams of his own, that he’s thought about a life away from hunting (contrary to what he tells Lilith in Season 15). It’s also interesting because we usually see the word “freak” applied to Sam, when he realizes he’s psychic, when he gets addicted to demon blood, later when he is defending Jack. But here we see that Dean feels like a freak in his own way. He knows that he can never have a normal life, never be seen as normal by other people, so he doesn’t even try. Sam tries to have friends, tries to give them the portions of himself that they can handle, but Dean knows nobody in the normal world will be able to understand him – how he grew up, what he’s been through – so he doesn’t let anyone get too close.

In 15x07 we learn that Dean did have friends in his 20’s. Hunter friends, but still friends. He hunted with Lee while Sam was in college. So why do we never hear about him? Why doesn’t Dean call him up sometimes, or fondly remember him? (well, realistically because the writers didn’t invent Lee until they wrote season 15) But, there’s a canon reason too. Dean mentions that he thought Lee had died by the time he sees him in 2020. He obviously cared about Lee, enjoyed spending time with him, but he didn’t make the effort to stay in contact, to find out if his friend had lived or died, most likely because he was afraid of losing him. It’s easier to walk away from people than have them walk away from you. In this episode (1x06) we see Dean chooses to stay disconnected from people around him.

Sam needs people, so he adjusts himself to their expectations and their comfort, but Dean would rather have no connection than a partial one, or one that will inevitably end in hurt.

“you mean like a Vulcan mind meld?” (Ok, so Dean canonically watched Star Trek, at least enough to immediately think of this reference. good to know. For reasons) “maybe he needs to keep us alive, for the psychic connection” (Ok, maybe never mind about the shapeshifter in season 13, I don’t know if she would be able to get the thoughts of the deceased loved ones. )

 “maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else.”

Ok, so this line is said by the shifter, as Dean, about the shifter, but I want to talk about how it applies to Sam. Sam Winchester is born human, but he has demon blood. We learn in season 8 that, although he didn’t know about the demon blood or about his psychic abilities until his 20’s, as a child he felt that he was “not clean.” Not only is raised to fight and kill monsters, very unlike a normal kid, he also has this intrinsic sense of … wrongness. Additionally, he has never been encouraged by his father to be himself or to pursue his own interests. He likely doesn’t believe that anything about who he is  is good or worth anything. So, he learns to be something else. He goes to college and tries to leave his entire life behind him. He doesn’t open up about his real life to anyone, not even his girlfriend. He tries to adapt. Fit in, even though he doesn’t fit. Then he goes hunting with Dean, but he won’t tell Dean about his visions, he doesn’t open up to him. He dutifully plays the role of little brother, and hides anything that could cause Dean worry or pain. We see this repeat throughout the seasons, Sam adapting, tucking away parts of himself, letting go of his opinions, his views on things, letting Dean be right. The one time when he doesn’t do this is with Jack. He sees himself in Jack, a scared little boy who is so afraid of being evil, and he can’t watch what happened to him happen to somebody else. He has to step in, speak up on Jack’s behalf. He CAN’T tuck his feelings away this time, because it’s not himself on the line. He doesn’t often stand up for himself, but he will stand up for other people.

 Shifter: All alone, close to no one. All he wants is somebody to love him. He’s like me

Rebecca’s eyes: *THE F*** IS THIS GUY SERIOUS*

SAME Rebecca SAME

EUGH I forgot how gross shifting was.

Ok, well Dean is officially a wanted man. Wow, to go from a few torture/murders to attempting to assassinate the president. He really has beefed up his resume.

The Samulet!! Weird that the shifter took that from Dean and wasn’t able to replicate it … O.O That’s such a good little detail to let us know that it’s important.

Oh, so now Rebecca knows the truth about Sam.

Rebecca: “Will you call us sometime?” Sam: “It might not be for a little while.”

(and she was never heard from again … I imagine because Sam started to realize that Dean was right. It’s easier to stay away from connections. This is also probably a part of his growing guilt, and fear that anyone close to him will be hurt. It is interesting to think … now that she knows the truth and the fake version of him no longer exists in her mind, he doesn’t try to maintain the relationship?)

 DEAN: Sorry, man.

SAM: About what?

DEAN: I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College.

SAM: No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.

DEAN: Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak.

SAM: Yeah, thanks.

DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.)

SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

 I know Dean means this as a playful joke, but it’s the first time we see Sam being referred to as “a freak” which will occur much more after this.

#supernatural #supernatural rewatch #01x06 #1x06 #1x6 #skin #shapshifter #dean winchester #sam winchester #character analysis #sam is a freak #I love him so much someone protect him

[taylor-on-fire]

Cigarettes and Alcohol (one)

She was told to never get involved with three things; Cigarettes, Alcohol and Rock Stars.

Obviously, something fate never intended for her to live by.

Pairing: ? x Reader

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Teen

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

~/-*•|•*-\~

The remainder of the summer had disappeared within the blink of an eye. If unpacking the rest of my belongings and furnishing the flat hadn't consumed the vast majority of my free time, my newly accumulated job had.

I had walked into Regency Cafe on my third day in London, resume in hand and extraordinarily low expectations. It was stationed five streets away from my flat, and a hub that I had scoped out soon after arriving. Because of this, I assumed that it was too good to be true, and being as popular as it was, would have copious amounts of workers and applicants alike. But, I had seemingly hit the jackpot that day. As soon as I walked into the cafe and spotted the only waitress behind the counter - a gray-haired, flustered woman in her late fifties - and mentioned the ‘Help Wanted’ sign stuck on the glass window.

‘You here for the job, Honey?’ I nodded, and she immediately thew an apron my way and hustled back to the till.

“Rose.” The woman nodded to me and slid over a tray. “That’s for table 7.”

“Y/N. Great to meet you, Rose.” I threw a tea towel over my shoulder, smiled, and picked up the tray to serve.

-

Ever since then, I had been working ten hour shifts at the Cafe. The crowds only  ever thinned out at around the three ‘o’clock mark, when it was too late to be considered lunch, and too early to be considered tea. But, even then, there was never a moment to take a breather, let alone have a smoke. I wouldn't complain though - It kept my days occupied and helped me save extra money for when the next semester started. And Rose was lovely. 

After we had locked up the cafe that first night - a pretty successful day as per usual - We had gotten talking about everything and anything over a cup of Coffee. Rose’s other two waitresses had called in sick, and with no available family to help, she was forced to fight the rush head on. Obviously that's where I came in. 

Coffee after lock-up had become some sort of ritual after I was hired, and after the hour or so chatting with the grandmother I never had over pastries, I would walk to my flat and go straight to bed. I rarely went back out once I got home, and thus hadn't scoped the area as much as I usually would. I mean, I knew of a few pubs and student clubs nearer to the university campus, and a few clothing stores, but London was huge. It would take longer than a night to discover all there was to see.

Undoubtedly, now I’d have less time to dedicate to finding the hot-spots of the city. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was awake again - Pulling on jeans and a plaid jacket haphazardly. Apparently snoozing an alarm clock six or so times eventually added up to an hour. So, now I was 65 minutes behind schedule, and would be inevitably late to the first lecture of my first semester at Uni. 

Way to make an impression, Y/N.

I checked the clock again, simultaneously buckling my sandals, and true to the time, I had 40 minutes to complete a half an hour bus ride and trek to the other side of the campus. 

Luckily, Imperial was by far the closest Uni in the area. God forbid i had applied to another college instead - I would hands down, never make it to the campus on time. Being rejected fro the course for numerous lates wouldn't come as a shock to say the least.

I made my way outside and lit up a smoke, securing my bag on my shoulder and making my way towards the near-empty bus stop. It was fairly cold outside, despite it not being too early. It was the middle of September although, and despite the summer feeling very recent, it was slowly fading out into a chilly autumn.

However, I wasn't exposed to the British temperatures for too long, as in a few minutes, I was seated at the back of the bus, willing it to go quicker to ensure that I wouldn't be late to class.

-

I had constructed a whole plan on how my mornings would go from now on, and sorted a precise routine to avoid this one situation. I didn't imagine it being disregarded so early into the school year. Yet, I was notorious for being late back home, despite my best efforts. It was evidently not a good trait.

As I hurried across the campus, barely navigating the way from memory and already five minutes late, I hoped that this wasn't an omen for what my life would be like here. 

The corridors were quiet, a few groups of people scattered around - obviously early and awaiting their first lecture - and all of their faces blending into one. I paid no heed due to the sheer rush I was attempting to downplay in the presence of other students.

The lecture hall seemed abnormally distant. But, as this thought flashed through my brain, a large notice on the wall displayed the word I was desperately searching for in black, block letters. I heaved a sigh of relief and searched for the class number. 

EB1.1...EB1.3...EB1.7...EB1.15

Seeing that I had arrived at my designated room, I paused momentarily, glancing down to check my wrist watch. Fifteen minutes late. Fifteen used to be my lucky number, but after this, I'm not too sure. I turned to walk towards the door, not looking up, and immediately came into contact with something solid.

Before I could comprehend what was happening and steady myself, I was falling backwards, the notes in my hand and bag falling everywhere. 

“Im sorry! Im so, sorry. I completely missed you there! I was just late and...” A boys flustered voice cut me from my internal monologue of how great the day was turning out to be. He immediately dropped to his knees to collect up the newly created mess, whilst simultaneously glancing back towards me. Presumably to see if I was fatally injured.

“Its fine. Im sorry. It was probably my fault.” I laughed, moving to my knees and picking up a pile of notes scattered to the left of me. “I have a terrible habit of being late to everything.”

“I should have seen you though. Are you okay? Not hurt are you?”

“I’m completely fine. despite my pride, obviously. Are you okay? I completely barrelled into you.”

We both continued to pick up the notes scattered around the corridor together, and finished rearranging ourselves in seconds flat. The man quickly stood up, holding out his free hand to me, which I grasped firmly. I let go, and he clutched his notes, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a red blush overtaking his features.

“I’m completely okay. I must apologise again.” he spoke, still anxiously rubbing his neck. A small smile was playing on his red features.

I paused for a second and adjusted the strap on my bag.

“You said you were late to class. Whats your major?” I questioned, not much left to lose considering over a third of the first lecture was over. I looked towards the class door, knowing that I was obviously more than a quarter hour late now. This couldn't be good.

“Engineering. Electrical, more specifically. But Engineering is apparently just one big degree here.”

“Im majoring in that too. But, I prefer the Aerospace branch.”

The man smiled at that, before adjusting his shirt collar and swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder..

“I have a friend that would love that. An Astrophysics Major.” He turned and pointed to the room EB1.15. “I guess we're headed to the same place, then?”

I nodded, smiling back.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” I raised my right hand out to the boy.

“John Deacon. Lovely to meet you.” He grasped my hand, and we shook, before splitting and turning to enter the classroom. John took the lead, entering the class before me, and holding the door open for me to enter too.

I guess chivalry isn't dead.

We both stood there momentarily, well aware of thirty or so sets of eyes turning in our direction. Under any other positive circumstances, I wouldn't be fazed, but knowing that I was in the wrong and destined to be given fails for the next academic year - and in front of so many strangers - I was uncharacteristically nervous.

From the looks of it, John also wasn't one for being thrusted under the limelight. He shot me a short, wide-eyed look, before hesitantly making his way to the lecturers desk at the front centre of the hall. I trailed behind him, probably appearing like a lost puppy, but in reality, unsure what the protocol was for such a situation.

Do i just sit down and ignore the fact that I missed half of the lecture? Or apologise profusely? At this point I’m ready to just leave campus, drop the course and move back home. Although, nothing worse than moving home immediately comes to mind.

However, John quickly spoke, explaining the issues he faced with his travel this morning etcetera, etcetera, and luckily, he included me within this tale. Apparently, we had gotten scheduled 8:15 AM bus, and due to a road-traffic accident, we were diverted for over three quarters of an hour. Credit to him for elaborating so. I was almost convinced myself that I hadn't overslept this morning.

As he concluded his tale, John took a step backwards, next to me, and awaited a response. The lecturer nodded, a blank expression on his face. He waited a second before responding.

“Ive already assigned the Initial Assignment. I want a 2,000 word essay on your reasons behind choosing Engineering as your major, the branch you major in, and the gateways this degree opens for you. Any other details are on the board.” The man held his stoic expression, and we nodded back at him, awaiting a sign to take our seats. “Michael Ford.”

I muttered my name in response, as did John, as we turned to take the only two free seats at the back of the lecture hall. We were stopped abruptly.

“Next time, don't let your romantic life come in the way of your studies.”

I froze, unsure of what to reply, other than a quick nod. I went to hurry off once again, but glanced at John who was beet red -  even redder than before in the corridor -  a wide-eyed expression on his face. It took all I had in me to not burst out laughing. 

#queen fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #john deacon fanfic #john deacon x reader #roger taylor fanfiction #john deacon fanfiction #queen fanfic