#Hey Kirk why are you so difficult to draw

[zandiks-legacy]

First day on the job, why is the captain hot

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty six: wet dreams and frisbees

“I can't believe your dad actually helped us with that,” Eric said aloud to her with a shake of his head. All she knew was she had to be there for real that time around: after their album dropped, her father had invited her back up to the Bay Area before anything else huge happened between them.

The day following the release of that new album in the first week of May and all the while the video for “The Ballad” had hit everyone's television there in the Bay Area and also down in Los Angeles. Sam was sure that Testament hadn't had such a stronghold like that of Metallica given they had started a year after Cliff was killed; but every time she turned around or went anywhere with a television screen, she saw Chuck's face there as he crooned out that song.

There was that plus the video for “Practice What You Preach” which never surfaced as much, but she swore that she saw them everywhere there in California. They always came on after Prince and Michael Jackson it seemed like, and it traded off between the two of them. There came a point in which after not even a week in which Sam began to associate Testament with either doves crying or pretty young things.

It was also around the time she headed back up to the Bay Area when she caught a glimpse of a rather darkly lit video which followed the one for “The Ballad” there in the bus station.

She frowned with the feeling of unfamiliar familiarity. She had no idea where they were from, but she knew them from somewhere. Within time, through the shades of rich royal blue, she recognized Kirk's black curls and Lars' sharp eyebrows. James' eyes pinched shut.

Jason there on the stool with a pair of wire framed glasses upon his nose.

Her mouth dropped open.

It was the first time she had ever seen Metallica in a music video. Even though she couldn't hear the music over the hustle and bustle in the bus station, she could feel it in her bones. The very sight of it almost brought a tear to her eye. Jason there on the stool in Cliff's shoes: there was no way he was echoing him, but rather he continued on from where Cliff had left off in the three years before. She adjusted the brim of her hat and sniffled a bit at the sight up there on the wall.

She thought about it all the way up through the outer rim of Los Angeles and into the Central Valley, such that she had plunked open her journal at one point and sprawled it across her lap. All she could think about was Jason and the pensive look on his face.

She yearned for something rich and dark like black ink for her new drawing, and yet all she had at her disposal at the moment was her kit of pencils. She got about as far as the sketch, albeit in cartoon form, but she had one with her regardless of anything she had with her.

Something to remember her dead love to, and something to exemplify his band's membrance of him as well. It was yet another secret drawing she had on hand, and one that she had no idea as to when she would finish up, either.

In the meantime, there on her second trip back up to San Francisco, Eric and Greg picked her up from the bus station in Hayward and as they drove back to the rehearsal spot together, she remembered the bet she had made with Alex as well. She had drawn him and thus she had to get alone with Greg whenever she found the chance.

She could only hope that Alex had told him about their bet, and if he didn't, there had to be a way in which she could explain it to him and in the best way possible as well. She sat there in the front seat next to Eric: at one point, she peered into the rear view mirror and through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she noticed Greg tucking a lock of wavy dark hair right behind his ear.

That long hair and that soft scruff on his chin and on either side of his face.

It was hard for her to imagine it, even her having known Greg for a few years at that point. She strove to picture that scruff against her thighs; her holding onto that hair and giving it a pull; figuring each other out. All fuzzy and difficult for her to really think about.

She peered over at Eric and his little baby face from the side.

All five of them with long black hair and round faces, except they were all slightly different in some fashion: Alex with the obvious tuft of gray over the right side of his forehead, Chuck with the similar grave Native American look to his face like Joey, Greg with the scruff on his face, Louie looking serious, and Eric being the odd man out with the look that started it all.

“I just realized I've never really been to Catalina,” Eric said at one point.

“It's gorgeous,” she told him with a sparkling smile, “especially when it snows.”

He frowned at that where she giggled and held her journal close to her lap. They rolled up to a stop sign and he looked over at her, and she had no idea if she was looking at the journal or something else. He gave that smooth stripe of dark hair on the right side of his forehead a little toss back with a flick of his head and then they rolled forward along the block towards that low white brick building in question; right next door was a little bistro. Greg was quick to climb first, even before Eric pulled up the parking lever.

“My goodness,” Sam remarked.

“I know, right?” Eric showed her a little smile.

She took off her sunglasses and ran her fingers through her dark hair, and then he cleared his throat. She turned to him: it looked as though he wasn't ready to climb out of the car as of yet.

“I wanna ask you something,” he started in a soft voice.

“Go ahead.”

“Seeing as you're here and not back East anymore—you wanna do something some time?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Like what? Like a date?”

Eric shrugged his shoulders.

“I dunno if you could call it that,” he said, “I just think of when we took you over to Castro Valley to visit the place where James and Lars spread Cliff's ashes, and you and Alex got behind the building there... it was kinda hot, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I catch myself thinking about from time to time.”

“You know, my dad lives there now,” Sam pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Have a little fun near your daddy's place.” Eric flashed her a wink at that. “Anyways, I mean it. I wanna do something with you. Like maybe have dinner at your dad's house or something of that nature. I gotta spend a bit with the little Sammich at some point.”

“You're just saying that because I'm a girl surrounded by a bunch of boys,” she scoffed at him, and albeit with a roll of her eyes. He shrugged at that.

“Not necessarily,” he clarified with a raise of his eyebrows. “It could be from the fact that you're a girl who likes to chill with a bunch of boys.”

“I chill with girls, too, you know, Eric,” she pointed out.

“Kinky.”

“Kinky?”

“Kinky.”

“You little fat rat,” she teased him with a shake of her head.

“Little fat rat, is that what you called me?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, 'cause you're little—you're fat—” She reached for a poke of his little belly and he flinched back in the seat, and his face turned bright pink from the feeling.

“I'm not fat,” he scoffed.

“You're chubby,” she corrected herself.

“I'm not chubby, either,” he said. “Chubby means you're cute and round—fat implies you've got too much on you. I'm neither of those things.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. I just think that's the assumption surrounding it and that's according to your dad, too.”

“My dad told you that?”

“Yeah. Your dad is quite the interesting man if I do say so myself. Maybe that's why you're so amazing.”

She gasped at that and then Eric climbed out of there and into the bright sunlight before she said anything further to him. She clutched her journal to her chest and slung the courier bag over her shoulder, and she followed him up to the front step. He held the door for her all the while: she dared not sashay her hips at him with each and every step.

Once she entered that first hallway followed by that cool, dark front room, she spotted Greg before the table on the side of the room with a glass of beer in hand. Alex was nowhere to be seen. She walked on over to him and he turned to her as he took a sip from the glass.

“What's up?” he greeted her; she peered over her shoulder and Eric ducked into the next room over.

“I have to tell you something,” she began in a low voice.

“Go ahead,” Greg encouraged her as he leaned in closer to her.

“Close the door, too—” He did just that with his free hand around her shoulder.

“I dunno if Alex told you this,” she said, “but I made a bet with him that if I draw him, I have to have sex with you.”

Greg hesitated for a second and then he burst out laughing.

“Did you really draw him?” he asked her as he took another sip of that fresh beer.

“I did, yes! And here's proof.”

She opened her journal to that drawing she had made for him back up at her dad's house. Greg took another sip from his glass and he raised his eyebrows at it.

“Oh, shit,” he sputtered. “I'm in trouble now.”

“He also told me to keep it between us—yeah, I don't get it, either.”

“He wants the three of us all to be hot shit,” Greg explained, “at least that's what I think he wants—I dunno, I can't read his mind. That's a gorgeous drawing, by the way.”

“So,” she stated as she closed the journal and gave her hair a toss, “what do you say?”

“Can I at least have my drink first?” he asked her with a sly little smirk on his face.

“Of course! Take your time with it.”

The door swung open right then and it caught the both of them off guard. Sam whirled around and she recognized that rich black curled hair and that little cleft in his chin.

“Hey, Charlie!” she greeted him, and his face lit up when he recognized her.

“Oh, hey!” He threw his arms around her. “Oh my gosh, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages—how are you?”

“I'm well—I've been living!”

“I should tell you—I got in touch with a woman who might help you out with promoting your art because you need it, Sam. You really do.”

“I'm not sure, though, Charlie,” she confessed. “I'm just trying to find my voice in the wake of being in school.”

“Take it anyways,” Greg told her as he took another sip of beer.

“She also offered to help Marla out, too,” he added, “because you ladies are damn well and good at it.” He handed her a little creamy white card with the words “Scarlett Valentine: art agent—New York, New York” inscribed on the front in rich red swirled letters.

“So should I call her whenever I can or whenever it's convenient for her?” she asked him.

“Whenever you can,” he replied, “mention my name, too—tell 'er you've been Benante'd as a result of this.” His expression then turned serious. “Also, I have good news and some bad news, and they kind of go hand in hand.”

“Go ahead,” she coaxed him as she tucked the card into the interior pocket of her purse.

“Good news is Anthrax is heading back into the studio, hopefully soon,” he said in a single breath. “Bad news is I'm not sure what Joey's doing right now, but I don't think he'll be joining us.”

Sam frowned at that. “What do you mean?” she asked him.

“I called him yesterday and we talked—for a long time, almost two hours. He's not really feeling good even though I told him he sounds good and we kind of need him.”

“What do you think he should do?” Greg chimed in from behind her.

“Well, I told him—take your time with it. When it happens, I'll call you and tell you about it. Your well being and your health comes first. I really want him on it, just to clear up any confusions that he might have about it. He thought we had fired him, for god's sake.”

“What if he says yes to it?” Sam added.

“If he says yes to it,” Charlie continued, “it'll be up to him as to how he does it. Vocals come last, you know.”

“Absolutely! I hope he can do it.”

“I hope he can, too,” he admitted. “Scott's written a bunch of new songs and I can't really imagine anyone else singing them. I mean—I can kind of, but I know they would fit Joey's voice like a glove. They were made with him in mind.”

“Who else can you imagine singing them?” Sam asked him.

“Mark from Death Angel, believe it or not. Just 'cause they have a similar range.”

“Yeah, they do!” Greg chuckled at that.

“That reminds me,” Charlie wagged a finger at him, “a word, Gregory.”

He opened the door and stepped out first; Greg followed right behind him, and the last thing he did for Sam was shrug his shoulders.

“Eventually,” he mouthed to her all the while, and then he followed Charlie out of there and back into the hallway. She spotted Alex by the door, and thus, once she tucked her journal into that courier bag, she headed over to him.

“Hey, you,” he greeted her as he took off his sunglasses and showed off those deep eyes to her.

“So that little bet you made with me,” she started with him and with her arms folded across her chest, “how if I drew you, that I had to do it with Greg—” She stopped and he slowly turned his attention to her with his eyes wide open like big marbles.

“Did you?” he blurted out, stunned.

“I almost did. He didn't seem to ready about it—not like you.”

“You'll have other chances,” he said with a wink, and she gave him a little smirk as a result of that and she knew she would have more chances to see sexy Alex at his best as well.

“By the way, what happens if I don't do it with him?” she asked him in a low voice. Alex shifted his weight right before her and then he walked around her back to that room. She followed him back inside, right as he took a seat before that table. He gestured for her to take a seat in front of him, and she did, albeit with her courier bag on the table top next to her. He shifted the chair around so he faced her straight on. He set his hands on her knees and he lingered right before her face as if about to kiss her. Instead his eyes closed part of the way as if he was seducing her right then and there.

“Come on tour with us?” he whispered to her.

“I'd have to pick up and leave more and more, though,” she pointed out.

“You'd be with us, though. You'd be with me.”

“But what about our secret, though? Our keeping ourselves a secret?”

“Greg can take secrets to his grave,” he said, “and I can, too.”

The palms of his hands pressed right into her knees. Her chest rose up a bit as he closed his eyes and took in the smell of her shampoo on the right side of her head. She brought her hands to his chest as if about to push him back. Instead, she stood to her feet and he followed suit.

They were alone in that room together.

She kissed him right on those soft lips and all the while, she kept her hands on his chest. His body was warm and soft even while being so thin. He was so sensual and tender towards her, such that she wondered where this side of Alex had been this whole entire time. He was like a diamond fresh out of a mine, or a rock straight off of the summit of Mount Whitney: all he needed was a bit of polishing and then she could have a better look at him.

She could still taste the ginger from the ginger snaps on his lips.

She could feel that right amount of softness staying perfectly intact all around his hips and his waist. She thought about his sentiments about getting so heavy by the time he reached middle age, and she smirked at the thought of Alex getting chubby while staying as lovely and sensual as ever.

He brought his hands up her back towards the hooks on her bra. She could feel the warmth from his chest and his stomach, that sweet sense of fever. She could feel how firm he was getting in between his legs. She moved her head back from him and she gazed right into those deep eyes.

“Careful,” she warned him in a near whisper. “We go a little bit far with it, I'll end up like Aurora.”

“We won't,” he whispered back to her. “I promise you, Samantha—I won't go that far with it.”

Sam brought her mouth to the side of his neck once again for another little love bite there, but instead she kept her nose there. She relished in his scent, there on his skin and on the underside of his hair. She kept her hands right over his hips: his skin resembled to silk. She imagined him even softer and more tender than ever at one point. The softer and the rounder he was, the more she could hold him and feel him.

“Mmm, baby—” she whispered to him.

“Baby, is that what you called me?” he retorted back to her.

“'Cause you're soft and sweet like a baby,” she told him and she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth. She ran her fingers through his soft black curls and he tilted his head back a bit and showed off more of his neck to her. For a fleeting moment, she thought about that encounter in the closet with Frank back in Charlie's old apartment. The way in which she caressed his soft lush hair, except Alex's hair was even more plush and even lighter. She brought her lips back to his, but she never kissed him.

Instead, she moved her right hand to the front of his jeans.

“What if I—” Her fingers caressed over the zipper and the button. She was about to slither down even further when he flinched back a bit.

“Easy now,” he warned her in a husky voice.

“What?” she teased him.

“You do that, I might not keep it together later tonight when I go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, like you'd have a wet dream about me.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and gazed on at her in the dim light: those deep eyes as deep and dark as they had ever been up to that point.

“I actually have had a couple of wet dreams about you,” he confessed.

“Oh, have you now?”

“Yeah. It's funny—I didn't think I'd have wet dreams about anyone before.”

“All dripping wet and hot,” she teased him.

“Not if I get you dripping wet and hot first—”

“You want me to bite you again?” she offered him.

“How 'bout down by my belt this time?” he suggested. “The last time—when you got me right here on my neck—I had hell of a time explaining it to my parents when they saw it. My mom was like 'oh mah gawd, Alex, what were ya doin'!”

She burst out laughing and then she clasped a hand to her mouth so as to not to draw attention to herself. Alex lowered his eyelids a bit as if seducing her himself, but she was the one who had done it in the first place. He lifted the hem of his shirt and showed her his slim stomach to her: the edge of his belt hung right underneath his belly button so she could do it with such ease.

The door hung ajar by about an inch but she knew no one else was around. Eric, Greg, and Charlie had gone somewhere else in there, but they were alone as far as she could tell.

Alex leaned back on the table so she could better reach his waist. With the tips of her fingers, she caressed his smooth white skin there over his belt first.

She brought her teeth onto his skin for a gentle nibble. She tried to imagine him with a bit of weight on his body at the same time, all from eating too many ginger snaps.

To think she was a few inches right above his genitals all the while.

“C'mon, Samantha, you can do it a little harder than that,” he encouraged her with his voice still husky and low. She nibbled a little harder on his skin and he gave her a soft groan from the inside of his throat in return.

“C'mon—you can do it,” he encouraged her again, that time through gritted teeth. A little harder and he started to breathe harder as a result. His chest heaved from the feeling there.

“Oh, god, that's hot—”

She closed his eyes as she nibbled on his skin, a sweet little love bite. Alex breathed harder and he gave her soft little whimpers all the while.

“I'm a bad boy,” he blurted out. “I'm a bad boy! Suck me—suck me—like you did last time—I'm a bad boy, Samantha.”

She put her lips there for a little sucking, and she traded in between the two. Her lips puckered and her teeth ground up against his skin, right there next to his belly button.

More silence ensued on the other side of the door so she traded in between the two for what felt like an eternity. All the while, Alex breathed harder as if he had just run a mile.

She bit extra hard on him and he gasped from the feeling.

“Tasty,” she whispered as she slithered her tongue along that little bit of bruised skin there. She had left a genuine bruise the size of a dime there on his skin, right next to his belly button. Alex let out a low whistle.

“Oh, man, that was hot,” he whispered to her as she finished up with a few little kisses there. “That was really hot.”

“Sam?”

She kept her lips there on Alex's skin as she glanced over to the door. Ruben's voice carried in from right there behind the door.

“Damn it,” he muttered. She gave him another kiss there and then she tickled him there. “Easy now.” He giggled at that and she moved up to his face; he kept his shirt pushed back so she leaned up right against his bare belly and gazed right into those deep eyes. His body was warm and soft, much warmer and softer than before that little vampire bite.

“So now what?” he asked her in a broken voice.

“I go hang out with my daddy now,” she told him, “I think he's gonna take me home, too.”

He pouted his lips to her a bit as if he beckoned another kiss from her. He closed his eyes so his face was extra soft. She moved in closer to him, right before his lips, but neither of them did anything further.

“Go to bed and dream of a beautiful gray stripe,” he breathed right into her mouth. He then looked right into her face, complete with the come hither look in his eyes and a softness about his face.

“You know I will, sweet boy,” she whispered to him.

“Sam?” Ruben called out from the next room.

“I have to go, baby,” she told Alex in a soft voice.

“I'll see you soon,” he vowed to her with a wink. She moved away from him and she ran her fingers through her hair before she picked up her bag and headed out of there, as warm as the sunny day outside. She smiled back at him as he shook his head and in turn his hair about: he showed her his slender neck and his beautiful pale skin all the while. The little tuft of gray over his forehead seemed to glimmer even under the dim light there.

“If you see Aurora again,” he said, still in a husky voice, “you should talk to her.”

“You think so?” she asked him, and he nodded at her.

“You really should.”

“Okay, baby.” She flashed him a wink before she ducked out of there. She spotted Ruben at the far end of the hallway there, and his face lit up at the sight of her.

“There you are!”

She greeted him with a hug and a little pat on the cheek. Ruben treated her to lunch at the bistro next door: they sat there on the porch which overlooked a small stretch of grass, still lush and green with the onset of springtime all around them. While he was inside there, she spotted Zetro and the guys from Exodus on the far side of the grass. She noticed something round and orange over their heads. She knew she had to see more of them as well.

Zetro lifted his right leg and chucked the Frisbee from underneath his thigh to a few kids on the far side. The Frisbee landed on the grass not even a foot away from him and they all burst laughing at that. Sam propped her chin up on the palm of her hand and watched them.

A woman stepped onto the porch right before her, and she recognized that head of black hair and those Korean features. She looked exhausted. It didn't help matters that her belly protruded out so massively at that point, such that her blouse struggled to stay over the roundest part.

“God, Aurora's huge already,” Sam remarked to herself. “She looks like she just ate a whole turkey.” She chuckled at that, but then she thought about what Alex had told her before. She knew what he meant by that: he had forgotten the whole thing between her and Aurora, which meant it was time for her. She took off her sunglasses and Aurora flashed a glimpse over at her before she stepped inside of there.

Her blouse was tight up top and Sam struggled to fathom how she could get any bigger.

“Aurora—” Sam started and she dropped her gaze down to her big belly. She looked as though she was ready to give birth any second there as she pressed a hand to the small of her back.

“Sam,” she greeted back to her.

“C'mere,” Sam coaxed her.

Aurora kept that one hand on top and her other hand on the small of her back. She was enormous and Sam tried to think about her pregnant with her daughters.

“When are you due?” Sam asked her, much to her surprise.

“You know, I'm glad you're here and I'm glad you asked,” she said.

“Really?” Sam glanced over her shoulder as if someone listened in on them.

“I'm due next month, actually,” Aurora continued, “although—” She ran her other hand over her belly. “—it feels like it could be way sooner than that. I'm having a son.”

“Aw, that's cool.”

“You're about to say hello to Theodore Samuel Young-St. Vitus,” she added, to which Sam gasped.

“Samuel!”

Aurora nodded her head and Sam lunged for her with her arms wide open: her breasts were snug and so tight, and her belly rose out before her, as hard as a rock, and yet it felt like hugging her mother. The first time she had hugged her in so long. Those old wounds, while still raw, could heal from the mere sound of his name.

“It's the least I can do,” Aurora explained. “I really feel terrible for having been such a bad friend to you after Emile and I got married. It's my way of apologizing to you as well as thanking you for being such a good friend to me. Being a mom has made me reconsider just about everything, Sam, especially when it comes to my friendships.”

They held one another once again and Sam was about to leak out even more tears.

“We both went to New York from here in California,” she recalled with a slight break in her voice; she moved back again for another look into Aurora's face, round and glowing with the life within her.

“You went with the boys where I settled down with a single boy,” she noted, and her face fell at the sound of that.

“Do you ever feel like you could continue with it?” Sam asked her with a sniffle.

“Somewhat,” she confessed, “although I can't imagine not being a mother, though. I love my daughters and I already love Teddy—”

The door swung open and Ruben stepped back out onto the porch with a root beer float in either hand. Zetro said something on the far side of the grass right then, something about Exodus' new album being about women and children first; Aurora backed up from him.

“Oh, my god, those look good,” she remarked as he took his seat across from Sam.

“Sam's mother always wanted ice cream when she was pregnant, too,” Ruben joked. Aurora kept one hand on her lower back as she headed inside for something. Sam picked up her glass and held it out as to give a toast.

“To our boys, Testament,” she said.

“To our boys,” Ruben echoed, and they clinked their glasses together. Sam sipped through the red and white striped straw right then.

“Aurora's a trooper,” he noted. “When your mom was about to have you, she had lots of energy. Even the day she gave birth to you, it was like nothing was about to slow her down.” He shook his head. “Not gonna lie to you, Sam. I miss your mom sometimes.”

“What's done is done, though,” she said.

“What's done is done, right. It's a new chapter of life.”

“She's having a little boy,” she told him, “and they're naming him Theodore Samuel Young-St. Vitus.”

Ruben raised his eyebrows at that.

“His middle name is gonna be Samuel!” he exclaimed, and Sam couldn't help but choke up at that.

“She's naming her kid after me,” she sputtered, and Ruben stood up and held her close to him. She sniffled and brushed a tear from her eye. “Teddy. He's gonna be named Teddy, too.”

“I just think of teddy bears,” Ruben confessed, “or better yet—graham crackers.”

Sam thought about Alex right then. She thought of running her hand down the small of his back and she pressed herself closer to his body. Still soft despite having reached his twenties and having lost enough weight to where he was so thin. Soft like a teddy bear himself.

Holding Aurora close to her body made her want to hold onto him even more as she gave her father a big hug.

[falkenscreen]

Star Trek: Voyager

Yes this show ended some time ago; that doesn’t mean that it’s not still underrated.

A relative late convert to Star Trek, this author committed to traversing the Delta Quadrant having finished The Original Series, The Next Generation, Discovery & Picard to date. Deep Space Nine is next; like the Doctor I don’t know anything about this ‘Dominion’ but they seem important and we’ll get there.

Having now finished Voyager, here’s the (spoiler-filled) thoughts of someone who came to the bridge afresh and savoured the light-hearted nature of the show. Yes TNG demanded more attention and the episodes herein that do are generally better, but for relaxed, semi-serialised adventure Voyager is a high point.

We’ll start with the negative and get to the fun stuff.

From the get-go there was a jarring disconnect between the premise and goals of the show. If a ship more advanced than any in the region is travelling really fast in one direction they’re not going to keep running into the same people; better begetting a saga poised for episodic rather than serialised fiction. The writers and audience were evidently a little tired at this point of TNG’s slavish devotion to wrapping everything up in 40-odd minutes so wanted to try variations on a theme; it was the right approach for the time accompanied by a smart premise that didn’t match.

And a stellar premise it was only set to be buoyed by the Federation-Marquis dynamic. Also partly squandered, corresponding grounds for strong tension and stories were left by the wayside – characterised by Chakotay’s ill-established, apparently immediate and seemingly endless trust in Janeway; together major failings of the show.

On continuity, and just so it’s out of the way; no they don’t show it but it’s clear the crew just manufactured more photon torpedoes like they did so much else.

Commencing with one of the best episodes, there is rarely a subsequent moment as character-defining as Janeway destroying the array. Don’t get me wrong, Kate Mulgrew is great, but she alike Kirk and Picard are, as fleshed out as they become, for stretches bare variations on a tired theme; young headstrong hotshot dedicates their life to the stars to become a reasoned, seasoned Commander. ‘Tapestry’ did it best and there was no need to explore this further.

Voyager had a general problem with characters that took several seasons to grow; it was a long time before Neelix stopped being grating and his earnestness became endearing. There is too very little you can relay about Tuvak beyond his being a Vulcan and a little sardonic, or Harry besides his yearning for advancement or Chakotay aside his membership of the Marquis and focus on his cultural background.

The stand-out worst episode of the entire show was Chakotay finding out that the Sky Spirits central to his people’s religion were actually from the Delta Quadrant; you can garner Robert Beltran’s clear ambivalence (at best) to such material. This author is aware of the significant tension between the actor and others on set; I can understand the frustration at a lead cast member belittling the series in public but the directions and emphasis the character took in later seasons was something else, as were the music cues whenever his or some others’ cultures came up.

Star Trek, and notably The Original Series, is often (but not always) shrewd for both telling stories addressing the place of culture, religion and community in people’s lives while not overly if at all drawing attention to particular characters’ backgrounds. To Beltran’s credit, he only made the disaffection perceptible on screen in the episodes that were of poor taste, as opposed to the ones that were just bad. There are many lousy episodes of The Original Series but what near always makes it enjoyable is Shatner et al’s absolute commitment to the bit. One of the very worst episodes of Voyager is the one where Harry is lead to believe that he’s actually from a planet in the Delta Quadrant full of attractive women; yet no one in Star Trek ever needs to look bored reading their lines. There are good ones and bad ones and we’re along for the whole ride.

There’s also that one where Tom and the Captain turn into salamanders, start life on a random planet and somehow transform back into their usual selves with these shenanigans never brought up again. Yeah that was awful but it was preceded by a generally decent few acts centred on exceeding warp limits; reputation aside it wasn’t quite down there.

On Alpha Quadrant folks being in the Delta Quadrant, as much as I missed the Klingons they did not need to rock up latently and near the very end; there were plenty of better ways to give B’Elanna an arc. One of the more interesting characters, she offered a variation on Worf’s overwhelming pride as a Klingon, though she barely got enough episodes to shine and these were predominantly featured much later on. And when the show stopped pretending Tom was the cocky pilot we’ve seen dozens of times before he too managed to get a whole lot more interesting.

It would have made a lot more sense for McNeill to just directly continue his character from TNG’s ‘The First Duty;’ alas.

Also welcome were the insights into the Borg; even if they became a lot less eerie it was great to learn that much more about them, though nothing, save the introduction of Seven, bettered the recuperating drones who were the ship’s first Borg encounter. The Borg children were also very funny (the related Voyager pick-ups in Picard were excellent) and should have stayed on the ship longer so Seven could say more things like “fun will now commence;” she can only say “Naomi Wildman” deadpan, as good as it was, so many times.

Heralded by such a superb actress, Seven and the Doctor thrillingly shared dual arcs akin but distinct to Data’s and each other’s, permitting us to relish their gradual growth and revel in their leaps forward. Seven’s narrowing down of eligible crewmen, unlike Chakotay’s later courting, was a particular highlight, as was her month of isolation when the crew were in stasis and the one where the Doctor overtook her node.

The Doctor however emerges the best character, far and above all others save the near as interesting Seven. Picardo’s charisma and stage presence, well-befitting an exaggeratedly humanistic, bombastic piece of programming, only propelled the most relatable arcs in the series; his desire to fit in and, as any, make a contribution. The Doctor’s opening number in ‘Tinker, Tenor, Doctor, Spy,’ but one occasion where Picardo’s vocal abilities were graciously integrated into the series, by this author’s judgement is the funniest sequence in seven seasons.

‘Message in a Bottle’ with the Doctor centre was too among the very best of the series. Mining any opportunity for comedy we can nonetheless be grateful, alike TNG, that they kept the bald jokes to about one per season.

As asides, it was lovely to see Reginald Barclay return and realise his aspirations in one of the best and most heart-warming episodes of the saga, while the singular and very obvious inspiration one episode draws from Predator proved amusing for just being so unabashed.  

‘Scorpion’ was amazing as was anything to do with Species 8472. Captain Proton, acknowledging the entire franchise’s schlocky roots, was a definite recurring highlight, with Mulgrew in one installment clearly having no end of fun alike the cast’s enjoyable turns in late 90’s Los Angeles alongside Sarah Silverman. Speaking of guest stars, seeing The Rock was a nice surprise though with hindsight they may never have cast him given Star Trek shrewdly chose to not have celebrity appearances overshadow the show. But hey, they can’t see the future; at least cleverly opting to obscure Jason Alexander in piles of costuming.

‘Year of Hell’ is good, but the premise befitted an entire season and alike the lacklustre finale nothing really matters (with some well-executed exceptions) if you can just go back in or erase time. There were many, many episodes that shouldn’t have been contained within forty minutes and deserved longer-form devotion, ala ‘30 Days.’ ‘Timeless’was a much better (and unusually technically-focused) variation on the aforementioned themes and it was fun to catch Geordi, as it was Deanna and especially Sulu. ‘The Omega Directive’ was cool; ‘The Thaw’ was great.

The fable-esque nature of the franchise has always been enjoyable and digestible given the show is partially aimed at kids, though there are episodes where it’s just a little too direct, and characters take a little too much pause. ‘Alice,’ the one where Tom almost cheats with his ship as an overly obvious parallel about why you shouldn’t have sex with other people if you have a girlfriend, if a good lesson, in execution was a tad much.

On reflection this author was surprised to discover some of the least generally favoured episodes, among them the Fairhaven double. It may be my great personal affection for Ireland but it makes perfect sense that given the time available this sort of world would be created and characters might pursue holo-relationships, a theme underexplored in Voyager yet still covered to great effect. The established technical deficiencies of holo-technology in such regular use should not come as a surprise when they recur.  

The one where Kes comes back was actually a later highlight; her character was never very well handled and no it wasn’t that blast off into the sunset but sometimes old friends lose their way and it’s the job of old friends to set them on the right path.

Most surprising was the dislike directed at ‘Tuvix.’ The difference between Voyager and much heavier sci-fi is that herein characters make a lot of decisions that are hard, not ones that are difficult. The destruction of the array was devastating but not morally questionable within the confines of the show. As a tangent, you could argue that had Janeway made the decision to return to the Alpha Quadrant at the beginning of the series that it would have been the morally correct decision given that, as we see in ‘Hope and Fear,’ another highlight, the ship would not otherwise have been a factor in much disorder and destruction. The show was not however so expansive philosophically as to greatly tread such ground as the franchise otherwise managed in the likes of ‘City on the Edge of Forever.’

In ‘Tuvix’ Janeway, a figure, like Chakotay, who often shifted characterisation to fit the requirements of any given story, was faced with a difficult decision with no easy moral out nor ethically unquestionable approach. It was a refreshing change and correspondingly dark denouement to boot apparent in the likes of ‘Latent Image,’ another fine instalment with the Doctor.

‘Eye of the Needle,’ the only episode this author has watched twice to date and a deeply empathetic early high point, save ‘Balance of Terror’ is the best treatment of the guarded but necessarily relatable Romulans (I haven’t seen all the movies!). ‘The Void’ bookends the show as a later stand out while the in respects not dissimilar ‘Night’ bears one of the darkest challenges and finest, most resonant endings.

This brings us to the ‘best episode;’ one featured regularly in top ten lists but seemingly not a very favourite.

‘Blink of an Eye’ is everything that is exceptional and aspirational about Star Trek. Stranded in the stratosphere of a planet where time passes with greater rapidity, the curious presence of Voyager in the skies begins to influence the society to the point where the inhabitants develop space travel to face the spectre.

A commentary on the Prime Directive as deft as any and a relatively novel variation on both the time travel and petri dish tropes resplendent throughout sci-fi and Star Trek, the episode is also a fabulous meta-commentary on the place of the franchise in popular culture much less crude than Janeway bemoaning the Doctor’s fleeting interplanetary fans’ obsession with every aspect of his personal life. Incorporating a fair bit more science than is typically par, the astronaut’s moving decision to help them, as with his staring into the heavens as Voyager finally departs, speaks to the selfless ethos and sense of overwhelming curiosity so intrinsic to the most basic lore of Star Trek, the most beloved episodes and all that Gene Roddenberry best achieved.

It’s also an amazing meditation on first contact principles and pitfalls which unlike many episodes doesn’t borrow story bones from TNG.

A more than welcome reprieve from a pandemic, I didn’t spend as long in the Delta Quadrant as the crew but for what I did I was glad to relish with them.

Star Trek: Voyager is now streaming on Netflix

[tiesandtea]

Suede fell out of bed into Britpop and Britpop controversy about Blur and bisexuality and who was doing what to who in what direction, but between episodes of public drama was glammy rock ‘n’ roll in the most classic English tradition. After years off duty, Suede is substantially re-united (without Bernard) and active and playing their first stateside gig at Coachella. 

An interview with Brett Anderson by Chris Ziegler. L.A. Record, 15 April 2011.

How did Suede and Metallica ever get together for all-night rock sessions? Brett Anderson: Our press agent sorta said, ‘Hey, Kirk Hammett is a big fan— should we get you together?’ So we went out to San Francisco to Kirk’s place and spent a lot of time being a bit naughty and playing songs in his basement. He had a studio—a little bit of a jamming room. I remember running through ‘Metal Mickey,’ we did a bit of T. Rex—we were off our faces, anyway. He’s a nice chap!

Kirk said he was struck by how normal you were and how you didn’t spank your buttocks once. I should have spanked my buttocks. He was probably very disappointed. ‘This can’t be the real Brett Anderson. He’s not spanking his buttocks.’

What Crass lyric is so close to the front of your mind at all times that you can sing it to me right this second? ‘Do they owe us a living? Of course they fucking do!’ I love Crass. Feeding of the 5,000 was one of my favorite records growing up. I love that record. I love all the artwork. Talking about bands that draw you into a world—Crass really created their world, and it was a really confrontational, intelligent, political world. I really responded to it as a young teenager.

What part of the Crass ethos do you hold most dear? I don’t live on a commune in Essex. But it opened my eyes—if it’s done right—how powerful political music can be. I never wrote overtly political music, but I did write music that dealt with not like party politics, but themes of poverty and alienation and I used that in songs—that was possibly inspired by Crass.

How was Suede a political band? Dealing with the politics of life. Setting our songs in a real social context. I never wanted to be a writer who waved flags for a political party, but listening to the songs you can tell I was brought up as a member of the working-class, and you can tell the songs have a very strong left-wing bias.

You said you felt there hasn’t been a definitive genre of music invented in the U.K. in the last decade, and that you feel music is meant more to placate than provoke now. Why? I do very much feel that’s the state of things. I can’t see that the last decade has created its own genre, which is a terrible shame for that generation. Not to say there hasn’t been great music. There’s amazing music! I love discovering new bands and there’s a great wave of new bands. But the biggest cultural development of the last like ten years was computer technology. It wasn’t anything to do with art and music, and that’s a shame. Even in the 90s, we had dance music—definitely a 90s genre. Maybe people have become too knowing. There’s too much of a structured sense of what’s cool and what isn’t, and that comes from magazines constantly publishing lists which contain the same five Beatles albums and this kind of thing. There’s this constant pressure to comply with this very sort of rigid set of accepted rock albums. So bands are too afraid to go outside those reference points. I sense this real fear in the music industry. A lot of it is because the industry has become a lot more corporate. People won’t take risks anymore. In the early 90s—that’s the only time I can talk about because that’s when I started—magazines were putting unusual bands on the cover. Magazines put Suede on covers before anyone had ever heard of us. Commercially, that was very ill-advised—but at least it suggested they had a sense of purpose. Now I get the sense people only back who they think are gonna win, regardless of if they actually think it’s any good or not. They will back who they think are the winners, and they will write good reviews for the bands they think are gonna sell lots of records whether they like them or not, and I think that’s a fucking terrible way to be. People are too afraid of not being cool? Or getting it wrong? No one’s willing to get it wrong. No one’s willing to stick their neck out and become a hated figure. No one’s got that kind of confidence. Everyone’s too willing to comply. It’s a terrible thing. But things go in cycles, don’t they? Maybe it’ll move into another period where people are taking chances.

When is the last time you suffered Stendhal syndrome? At the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. I was looking at the Toulouse-Lautrecs, which were absolutely amazing. I’ve never been a huge fan of Toulouse-Lautrec before, but seeing the paintings in the flesh—as it were—is just so amazingly powerful. They’re so beautifully observed. I’m not sure if I actually experienced Stendhal syndrome, but I’ve read about it and it’s an extreme reaction to beauty—that’s the closest I can imagine it to be.

What’s it actually feel like? Like drinking too much coffee. Slightly restless euphoria. Or maybe I’m getting it confused with actually drinking too much coffee. I’m a huge fan of art . I spend a lot of time in galleries and that’s my favorite period of art as well—the post-Impressionists. Paul Gauguin and those artists. I love all the medieval painters as well. People like Bruegel and Cranach and Holbein. There’s something incredibly primitive about it—Bruegel’s ‘Return of the Hunters’ is so atmospheric. What I really like about Holbein is he’s such an amazing draftsman and a great observer of human features. He could completely capture a person. You’re looking at someone who lived 500 years ago but it could be someone passing you on the street. They’re so real. I love that about Holbein’s paintings.

Did you want to try and observe things that carefully in Suede songs? It’s difficult in the framework of pop music. It isn’t a very subtle medium. It doesn’t have as much as fiction or fine art. You’re in a very rigid structure—melody and rhyme and rhythm and those things are constricting you. I don’t think pop writers can ever take it to that depth of observation. But what pop writers can do is engage at an emotional level that other artists can’t do. The pop song, when done right, is incredibly powerful. That’s partly to do with the simplicity as well. Truth in music is incredibly important, but artifice can be incred- ibly important as well—that’s something I’ve done quite consciously. Lots of the songs I’ve written for Suede have been deliberately superficial but perversely enough there’s a kind of truth in that. A sketch is powerful because you fill in the missing pieces. You fill in the framework yourself. If it’s too full, there’s no space for you to interpret it.

Francis Bacon said, ‘The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery.’ Absolutely. One of the most important quotes ever about creativity. Something I’ve learned through mistakes over the years is it shouldn’t be too clear what you’re doing. Sometimes the sketch is so powerful because of the room for interpretation. As soon as you know what something is about, it somehow kills the mystery. And mystery is so important in music. That allows the song to have life beyond what it was intended for. When a writer’s writing, they have a very specific thing in mind, but they don’t know about the life of the listener. The listener applies his life to the music and there’s a new interpretation. That’s why a good song has so much power. It reaches into people’s lives. But to do that, there needs to be a sense of mystery. I’ve always tried to do that with detail. There’s this whole thing with great songwriters saying songs should be universal, but I actually think songs should be opposite—strangely specific and set in a place to make them real. I mean, still allow space for interpretation.

You said once that Suede writes about the used condom, not the beautiful bed. That kind of detail? That’s not my favorite quote I ever said—but it keeps coming back. It must resonate with people’s vision of what the band is about. It’s quite a crass way of saying it, but I suppose it’s got some sort of truth. I always wanted to document the sort of grubby side of life. I didn’t want to talk in rock cliché. ‘Baby, I love you!’ clichés. I wanted to sing about the world I saw around me, and the world I saw around me was the used condom. It was the dusty street, the flickering TV. It was that use of detail and the fact I was born in the U.K. that made me write about the U.K. in detail, and it became distorted into the cliché of what became Britpop later—but it was never this nationalistic, jingoistic intention. It was just a desire to write about the world I saw around me.

Did you have to feel like you were living a Suede song to write a Suede song? I don’t feel I deliberately changed my lifestyle. But I didn’t rein myself in. I felt justified in writing what I was writing—the right thing to do for my artistic vision was live the lifestyle I was singing about, but it’s kind of a chicken-and-egg thing. I was living that, obviously. But you can’t live that lifestyle forever and wanna remain alive. Things have to change. I championed—well, I documented it, and then you realize that what you’re documenting is quite harmful.

Did you think you were going to end up on a prison ship like Dan Treacy? Well, toward the end of the 90s, things started getting quite dark. Life was definitely changing. I thought, ‘Well, maybe we need to veer away from something.’ I always feel I’m slightly on dodgy ground when people talk about this whole concept of the artist as a damaged character—it’s such a powerful cliché that people really wanna believe in, and I think there’s so much great art made through clarity and sobriety. The damaged artist casts a huge shadow people sometimes can’t see beyond. Me personally, as an artist now I feel much more in control of my art. Much more driven. Certainly more than I did ten years ago. But people need to believe in that sort of figure.

Jason Pierce said he started Spacemen 3 because of people like Roky Erickson and Alex Chilton—that he felt he could do what they did because they were flawed and not professional and perfect. It’s the ultimate DIY ethic, isn’t it? The ultimate punk thing? Saying it doesn’t matter how incapable or damaged or all these pejorative adjectives you wanna apply—not you can still create art, but it almost makes your art more interesting or valid or gives it an edge you wouldn’t have if you weren’t damaged? Someone like Ian Dury—the ‘cripple as artist.’ It gives the audience a fascination, I think.

You said you were making music to find community in a fucked-up world. Did you ever find that community? It’s always a search for some sort of community, isn’t it? There’s a line from one of the old songs, ‘New Generation.’ ‘We take the pills to find each other.’ A search for human … ownership or whatever. I don’t know. It’s strange to say because I’ve always conducted my career and Suede’s career almost as outsiders. I’ve never felt accepted by the music industry. I still don’t. I’ve never felt part of any sort of gang, and I never really wanted to be part of any gang. The only gang I’m part of is this weird disparate group of non-members—the ‘others’—and I’m quite happy in that role as well. I don’t jealously look at other people’s lives and wish I could be like that. I don’t have that search for community I used to have— maybe I realized the reality of things.

Does that mean it’s not out there? That it was never there? Can bands create these communities anymore? That’s the definition of a decent band. They create a community. When I answered your question, it was in a personal sense. Whether I’ve found a community. But hopefully Suede as a band created a community. That was one of our real intentions—I loved bands like the Smiths who had this world you went into, with the sleeves and the reference points. You very much immersed yourself. I wanted Suede to have that sense as well. Almost a strong Suede way of being. The Suede army, as someone once said.

If you didn’t find community, what did you find? It made my life. It gave me all those things we were talking about earlier. It gave me everything. Gave me purpose in life. I wouldn’t ever advise anyone to do what I did! I’ve been incredibly lucky in my career. 99 percent of people who go into music won’t be as lucky. It is a lot to do with luck! The fact I’ve met Bernard Butler—little things! I might never have met him, and we never would have written those songs and Suede would have been a very different band. I never just say, ‘This is what you should do!’ I was just confident and stupid enough to do what I did, and it just sort of worked! But some of the decisions I made—they were pretty rash!

Is it necessary to commit totally to being creative to be good at being creative? To jump in with no safety net? Absolutely. You’ve gotta let yourself out there. I didn’t even have an instrument to fall back on! ‘I believe I got enough of a voice to say something interesting, and I’m gonna do it.’ Confidence verging on stupidity that happened to pay off!

Does pop music defend the brave and stupid? I think so. You have to push it as far as it’ll go. Part of the reason the public loves pop music so much is the drama of the story. You have people who have no idea about the drama and just wanna listen to Phil Collins records and that’s fine, but there’s a whole other group of people that love the back story—how it’s made and why people fall out and fall in love. It’s almost treating the world of music like you’re watching a soap opera and people love that.

Why do people fall in love? Probably some sort of chemical function. I don’t wanna be unromantic about it but it fulfills a necessary function for the human race.

[jenny-kirk]

Story Time with Jenny: Early Days

Jenny had been with the gang a few months, Micah, only a few days. Since joining Miss Kirk and Mr Summers had practically been joined at the hip. Micah wasn’t the jealous kind...but his eye was already wandering.

(Jenny x Lenny- Jenny x Micah)

“UGhh, when will this day end,”

Lenny chuckled at Jenny’s annoyance as she dragged her bored self back to camp having finished her post on guard duty. Like so often, nothing was happening and there was no cause to leave camp, so standing around looking tough seemed the best thing to do.

“Could be worse. At least this way you don't have Susan breathing down your neck!” 

Huffing a smile at his remark, the girl joined the man only one year younger than herself by the splintered table. Specs of dried blood and carves from games previously played told a story across it as Mr Summers extended a lit cigarette to the girl, taking it graciously after dropping the rifle to the table.

“That is true,” drawing out a breath Jenny shook her head. “Lenny, don’t you think we should be out there more?”

“Out there more?...Miss Kirk I don’t know if you’ve noticed, you’re about the only woman here joinin’ us out there!”

“No I know but-” leaning across the table to lower her voice having glanced toward’s Dutch’s tent, “I mean, we’re outlaws. ‘N it feels like ever since I got here all them months back, we only ever wait for trouble to turn up. We should be out hittin’ them banks now, not just sitting around waitin’ for Dutch’s next grand plan!”

Lenny could only laugh at the woman’s perseverance, or stupidity. Always such a bright spark ready for a little danger. Enough to get her in a heap load of trouble.

“C’mon Jenny you’re not stupid so don't act it.” 

Smiling with a sigh the brunette stubbed the burnt out cigarette, watching as it dropped to the ground silently.

Of all those in camp Lenny was what Jenny would consider, a true friend. One who stays by your side no matter what. He was loyal, sweet, funny and being her age, easy to relate to. 

Of course Miss Kirk got on with most in camp, that was besides big old Bill Williamson and Mac. But only a few days ago, the gang had managed to pick up a newcomer. 

Having not been long within the gang herself, it was a difficult task to judge the man too solidly knowing in her experience, a lot can change in a person over a few months.

Micah Bell was a nasty one. Crude, offensive, messy and unclean. In fact he made her skin crawl. The one conversation she’d so far had with the man made her near sick to her stomach, he was unsettling and creepy to say the least.

“Hey, uh...Jenny?”

“Hm?” 

“I was wondering if you uh, that is if you....er...”

Stumbling over his words? Jenny bit back a grin. It was hardly a secret Lenny was soft on her. It made things a little awkward but was otherwise amusing. He was sweet, but too much so for her liking.... didn’t mean she couldn't have her fun still though.

“If I what?” she probed cheerfuly.

“Well I heard about this nice spot up the mountains some, if you want you could join me?”

“Why Mr Summers,” a faked shocked expression plastered the girl’s face as a hand took place on her chest, “You askin’ me on a date?”

“No! Well-n-no I mean...”

It really was a miracle Jenny hadn't burst out with the laughter boiling within her belly. It was also a miracle no one had spotted their newest recruit leaning against a tree nearby. Whittling away on a stick, Micah kept a watchful gaze on the young pair.

Despite only just joining the acclaimed Van Der Linde Gang. Micah had already demonstrated he could earn his keep through jobs. One such job surprising him greatly when a young woman joined them, fighting side by side. She held her own alright, not the greatest shot but not the worst.

Already, Jenny had managed to attract the attention of Micah Bell.

“Well. Suppose I should get to it.” Jenny broke the man’s awkwardness by standing and deciding to return to her post. Leaving Lenny to kick himself for his awkwardness and hesitation, the moment now past.

Micah on the other hand watched the girl leave, an irritation nagging at him. Of course he’d first tried it on with that beautiful Miss Abigail. But oh no, apparently she was off limits. Or so everyone said. Looking elsewhere his eyes stumbled across Miss Jenny. Naive sure, but with passable looks and courage.

Yes, she would be enough fun to make his time worthwhile.

Approaching her the blonde cleared his throat to announce his presence earning him a short glare before being brushed off back to focusing on guarding camp.

“Micah, you want somethin’?”

Sure Jenny wasn't fond of the man, who was? But that didn’t mean she’d  strive to treat him too much worse than she would others. Well, not unless he deserved it in that moment.

“Miss Kirk, yes?”

A nod yet blank and uninterested face told him to continue.

“Mh, a pretty name for a pretty little woman,”

A little discomfiting but Jenny shrugged off the cheesy remark with a glare.

“What you want Micah?” she repeated, her tone a little more tired.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just being friendly.” His hands up in mock surrender.

Fiddling with the rifle Jenny pondered as to this man’s annoyance. Did he get off on irritating folk? He’d only just joined them, what could he possibly achieve by being so strange.

“Noticed you’re good with a gun too. Rare to see that. A woman good with a gun.” Oh he was digging himself a bigger hole.

“Micah, I don’t have time for-”

“You know, If you ever get bored with that boy...it’s all I'm saying-”

Fighting the urge to turn the gun on Micah then and there Jenny closed her eyes trying to keep her temper from faltering. This bastard. Whatever he was suggesting it made her blood boil.

‘You best got outta my sight real quick.’

No she couldn't say that, she hardly knew the man...maybe he wasn't trying to be rude? Naive guess? Yup. Worth a try to test? Defiantly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,”

Her response clearly confused the older man as he stood lost, a mere second but enough to pursue a grin to the girl’s face, seizing the opportunity.

“Whats wrong? Thought you'd be as good with that mouth as you are with those twitchy trigger fingers. Guess y’can’t have it all. Good day Mr Bell.”

Jenny gave a dismissive glance watching as the figure staggered away silently with a sneer after a moment.

Disgusting as he was Jenny hoped she’d not have to bash his lights out just yet. Although, from how he was going about treating folk. It was a hope that had no chance of lasting. Some people just needed to be taught a lesson in manners.

[mystery-star]

Threshold of Space - Chapter 3 Aftermath

Pairing: Spock x OC

Warnings: swearing, violence, molesting, mentions of death

Words: 6610

All Parts: 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |  Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

-Her head was throbbing when she opened her eyes. Nevertheless, she tried to get up to look around a little and find a chance to escape. However, moments later she noticed that someone - she strongly assumed it was the Romulan who knocked her out - had tied her to a pole. Cursing him in her thoughts, she tried to free herself but quickly realized that it was of no use. Then she’d have to wait until someone came to get her.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there until she was approached by one of her captors. Her heart started beating faster, one part of her was afraid of what would happen while the other was happy about a chance to escape. However, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do if she actually managed to get rid of him. After all she had no idea how the ship was built and all she knew was that she needed to get off it. Maybe they had escape pods she could use? By now the Romulan reached her and freed her arms. Somehow she had imagined he’d pull her with him, instead she was yanked up and pressed against the pole.

“Leave me alone” she hissed as she felt his hands on her hip, having an idea what exactly he had in mind. “I bet if your master hears about this, you’re screwed”

“My only order is not to kill you and bring you to Nero so that he can beam you down to earth when it’s being destroyed. I wasn’t told what I can’t do with you” His fingers laced in her hair and pulled her head aside.

“Earth’s got a much better defense than Vulcan. This won’t be easy. At all” she growled and winced when she felt his breath on her neck. Then she decided that was enough and knocked her head against his, simultaneously kicking her knee between his legs. Hoping the pointed tips of his ears were as sensitive as the one of Vulcans, she pinched it with her finger nails. He let out a loud scream and went to his knees, trying to get away from her hand. Carissa grinned “Perks of having a Vulcan boyfriend” she chuckled as she kicked him another couple of times until she was sure that he wouldn’t be able to follow her in the next few minutes. Since the red of her uniform was eye catching, she even stole his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Maybe she wouldn’t be spotted from afar like that. She also took his weapon. After delivering another few kicks she ran away, looking around if she could see Pike somewhere so that she could free him as well. Without an idea where she was supposed to go, she just ran along the corridors, hoping she wouldn’t run into someone. But of course the ship wasn’t empty, so after a couple of minutes she heard footsteps. She hid behind a large machine, only focusing on the sounds. Luckily, it seemed to be only one person. Taking a deep breath, she raised her weapon and as she saw that the Romulan was almost past the machine, she lunged at him, knocking the gun against his skull. Before she knew it, her opponent threw her to the ground. A shriek of surprise left her mouth and turned into a painful moan as he kicked her stomach.

“Die, Starfleet officer” he growled. Much to her luck he must have dropped his weapon when she jumped at him, so he had to find other ways to kill her. He picked her up by her neck and squeezed it with both hands. Once again she went for the ears, making him loosen the grip enough so that she could tear his hands away from her. She went to her knees, coughing and holding her neck. She tried to crawl between his legs and hit his middle with her hand when she was in an optimal position. After she was past him, she got up and continued running. That was more difficult than she thought because her lungs never seemed to get enough air. Her hair was grabbed and she almost fell over. The Romulan from earlier shoved her against the nearest post with such a force that made her black spots in front of her eyes. A fist collided with her jaw and her head hit the metal behind her again. Her hand shot to her head and she felt his hands wrapping around her neck again. When she threw a short glance at him, she could she a small smirk on his face. This time she was too far away to hurt his ears, so she tried to get rid of his arms but to no avail. Suddenly, he let go of her and she tried to stagger forward and try to fight him again when she felt her knees sagging in. Before she went to her knees, she saw that the Romulan obviously didn’t feel any better and went to the ground as well. But in contrast to her, he lay there motionless. Before she could even figure out what she was supposed to do she heard her name being called.

“Spock” she choked out upon looking up and seeing him holding out his hand towards her. When she made no move to take it, he crouched down in front of her and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Feeling tears of exhaustion in her eyes she leaned her cheek against his shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

“It is very pleasant to see you” he said quietly and she made a faint sound of agreement. “Have you been severely injured?”

“Mhh” she murmured “Not that much” he lifted her head and cradled her face to look at her, then placed his lips on hers. When he leaned his forehead against hers, she couldn’t help but smile a little. He rarely showed this much affection in such a short time. “No reason to rush things” she joked.

“Oh there you are. I thought you were crazy when you turned and darted away as if stung by… What the fuck?!” she glanced past the Vulcan to see Jim standing behind them, panting and supporting himself against his thighs. Much to her dismay Spock pulled away and helped Carissa up, ignoring the other cadet’s bedazzled look.

“We ought to leave” he urged, then looked back to his girlfriend “Are you in a state to run?”

“I’ll see” she replied. He gave a nod and jogged off, still holding her hand that she had no choice but to follow him. Only seconds later everything in her body was protesting but she tried not to show it. They needed to get away from here. After what seemed like an eternity, her boyfriend slowed down and Carissa saw a ship in front of them “Are we gonna steal that?” she asked “What about Captain Pike?”

“Cadet Kirk will take care of him”

“O-okay” she turned back to Kirk as they entered the ship. “Oh wow, I have the feeling that this isn’t a Romulan ship… oh hey, look at that cool bubble” she smiled and went to the middle of the ship where she had spotted the funny looking red bubble and had to refrain herself from touching it. She felt hands on her shoulder and was carefully pulled away from where she stood

“It is better if you keep a certain distance to the red matter”

“The red matter?”

“Yeah apparently that’s the thing that caused the black hole that destroyed Vulcan” Jim explained. The ship computer seemed to have switched on and welcomed Spock.

“Okayyyy?!” she glanced at Spock who stared at the ship in disbelief.

“Well that’s weird” Jim said with a shrug and went past them, while Spock asked the computer about his details. She frowned when it explained that it was commissioned by the Vulcan Science Academy in the 24th century. Was there a mistake or did the ship really come from the future? Suddenly she found Spock gone and hurried after him.

“It appears that you have been keeping important information from me” he confronted Jim.

“And what’s that about you and Clarissa?”

“Carissa” she corrected

“Your question does not relate to the mission, therefore I have no comment on the matter”

“Fine. You’ll be able to fly this thing, won’t you?” Kirk inquired.

“Something tells me I already have” this confused Carissa even more. Until now she had just believed that Spock had already flown this ship but apparently not. So what was going on?

“Good luck” Jim walked away when Spock called his name.

“I would prefer if you took Carissa with you and kept an eye on her”

“What?” she crossed her arms “I’m staying with you, of course.”

“Carissa, the overall likelihood that our plan succeeds is less than 4.3 percent. If you go with him, your chances of survival are higher than with me”

“You do know you’re sending me back to the Romulans, don’t you? Beside, screw chances, I’m not going anywhere!”

“You being with him would also increase Cadet Kirk’s chances of survival in case he is confronted by Romulans”

“God, there are days I feel like I’m talking to a wall. Besides, when I am with them I probably have a higher chance of being harmed further so no thanks” she muttered and chuckled as she heard Kirk murmur in agreement.

“Look” he said “I don’t know why but obviously she wants to stay with you, so why don’t you let her?”

“This ship was designed to be administered by one person. Therefore, her presence here is unnecessary” she sighed.

“That’s not the moment to discuss this. I can decide for myself and I’d rather die than stepping one foot onto that Romulan ship again! And you see, I might actually die with you, so guess what?” Jim made a hand movement that said as much as ‘there you go’. Finally her boyfriend agreed and Jim left after assuring Carissa that she needn’t to worry because the plan would work.

“What exactly is the plan?” she asked after he had left the ship.

“We need to destroy the drill and draw the Narada away from Earth so that the Enterprise can beam us back on board before we launch the red matter onto the ship. Since Cadet Kirk needs to find Captain Pike, it is down to me to buy him some time”

“Oh alright” she watched as he steered the ship away from the Romulan one after blasting a hole into it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, as I already said, this ship was designed for one person so I am able to do everything myself”

“Okay. And should I… I don’t know maybe prepare the red matter so that we can use it afterwards?”

“That will not be necessary”

“But… how are you trying to launch it at the Narada then?” he didn’t answer and she started to figure it out “No. No, don’t tell me we’re crashing this ship onto theirs. That’s madness. They won’t be able to beam us back in time”

“That is why I wanted you to go with Cadet Kirk. Because the Narada has longer than this ship does” she shook her head

“Even if I had known that, I wouldn’t have changed my mind” he looked at her “And don’t you even dare telling me how illogical this decision was or whatever”

“I did not plan to comment on this at all” he started firing onto the metal cord that held the drill in place

“Oh” she watched how the drill finally came off and fell down. She only hoped that no one would be killed when it arrived at the surface.

“However, I cannot help but admit that a part of me feels a form of contentment due to your presence” she made an approving sound.

“I appreciate you telling me this. I know it must be hard for you to admit your feelings and talk about them” she placed a hand on his arm. He was about to reply when Nero’s face appeared on a little screen in front of them

“Spock, I should have killed you when I had the chance. But know that Carissa will be joining me at any moment and then you can watch her die” Spock looked at his girlfriend and she leant closer to him so that the Romulan could see her as well

“I don’t think so. Unfortunately for you I found out that Romulan ears are quite sensitive as well so I managed to escape”

“Fire on that ship! I want them dead. Dead. Now!” Nero shouted

“Bad kitty” she scolded him like she did with her cat when he did something he wasn’t allowed. The communication broke off and Spock moved over a little

“Sit down and hold tight” he said and Carissa followed his instruction, knowing he’d soon fly evasive maneuvers. That was the case but only a couple of seconds later he went into Warp.

“Do you think he’ll follow us?”

“He will. After all you managed to make him angry enough to forget about anything else. Which is our luck because he would never make the choice to follow us if it was not based on emotions like anger” she smiled.

“See, it’s good you took me with you so I could make him angry” she pressed a kiss to his cheek what made him look at her with something like amusement. Not much later, they went out of Warp and he flew a U-turn, directly towards the Narada that had dropped out of overlightspeed as well. “Do you reckon he’ll figure out what we’re trying to do?”

“I suppose he is not that ignorant” as it seemed also the computer seemed to have realized what they were doing and warned Spock that he was out to collide with the Narada

“Guess what, that’s exactly what we want, computer” Carissa chuckled “Ah it seems like Nero knows” again he was firing at them and again they got a warning from the computer that if the ship was hit, the red matter would be ignited. She looked at him “What now? We’re too far away from the Narada so it’ll only kill us” suddenly a ship appeared and blasted away all the Romulan missiles so that their path was cleared.

“Enterprise” Spock called the ship “Here is Spock”

“Here’s Scotty, Sir”

“I have Cadet Wiley on board with me and request you beam her back onto the ship”

“Aye”

“What are you doing?”

“Sir, I cannae beam her back alone. It’s either both of you or no one. Yer too close to each other” as the hull of the Romulan ship came closer, she dug her fingers into Spock’s arm and shortly after felt that she was being beamed somewhere. She only hoped it was the Enterprise’s doing, not Nero’s. When she realized that she was in the transporter room of the Starfleet ship with her boyfriend still beside her she breathed out in relief. Luckily, also Jim and Pike had made it. As it seemed, Spock was already on his way back to the bridge, pulling Carissa along when they almost ran into people from the Med Bay. When the Vulcan let go of her hand, she felt disappointed but knew why he did it. It wasn’t good if people saw them holding hands.

“There is no reason for you to come to the bridge with me” he told her without even looking back

“Firstly, I was assigned to the bridge for all I know. Secondly, I think I made my point obvious when I said that I want to stay with you” they arrived at the bridge only seconds before Jim, who ordered to hail Nero. Why was he giving orders and not Spock? After all he was made Captain. Then she got even more things to wonder about as Jim (whose real name apparently was James as she just learned) offered Nero to evacuate his people. She obviously wasn’t the only one who was confused as her boyfriend started talking to Jim (or James). Luckily, Nero already spat that he’d rather relive Romulus’ end over and over again than accepting their help.

“Oh that’s a bummer” Carissa said, glaring at him “I was hoping we could repay you your hospitality… then I have no choice but to say goodbye. I don’t know how you Romulans do it, so I’ve got to do it the human way” she showed him her middle fingers “Go to hell” she felt the surprised looks of most people on her and she took a step back with a sheepish smile. Where had that come from?

“I can only agree with Carissa” she smiled as he finally seemed to have realized her name was not Clarissa. “Arm phasers and fire everything we got” he walked away from the screen and sat down in the Captain’s chair as the Enterprise started firing at the Narada, which finally got swallowed by the black hole. She slightly raised her fist in triumph. But then all her enthusiasm wore off when she heard that they were too close to the singularity as well and would be swallowed by it as well. As it seemed there was nothing they could to, the ship was already on maximum Warp. Great. She was starting to get angry at Kirk for ordering to fire at the Narada instead of leaving instantly. But then Scotty from the engineering seemed to have an idea, detonation something and creating a blast that could push them away from the black hole. Only now she realized that maybe it was better if she sat down as well and quickly took a seat in the nearest empty chair, grabbing it as she had done before they left the dock on Earth. Somehow she had a feeling as if years had passed since then, but she knew that it probably was only about a day or two. She’d have to ask her boyfriend, after all he must have been able to keep track of the time. “Sulu?” Kirk said after he had made sure everyone on the bridge was alright “Let’s go home”

-oO0Oo-

For some reason, Carissa felt odd about being back. It was, as if everything had changed. At least she had heard the full story of what had happened by now: Nero was from the future, just after his home planet had been destroyed. And apparently a future version of Spock had promised them to save Romulus but came too late so Nero had sworn to get revenge. A part of her felt dumb for not realizing it, it was a plausible explanation and answered all her questions. However, shortly after she felt new questions arising. Did this mean that a new timeline was created? Was there a possibility to restore Vulcan? What would the older version of her boyfriend do, travel back to his own time or stay here? She soon realized that the easiest way to have her questions answered was talking to the time traveler. Besides, she had noticed that she still was in possession of the photograph Nero had thrown at her and she figured it was his and that he wanted it back. A doctor had given her a sick leave for the next day so she wanted to use it to talk to the older Spock. But before that she wanted to make sure her boyfriend was alright but as it seemed he could be found nowhere so she decided to do that later because she feared that his future self could leave soon. When she heard that he agreed to the meeting she nevertheless was a little surprised.

“Hi uh…” she greeted, trying her best to offer him the traditional Vulcan greeting “My name is Carissa Wiley and well… I was asking to see you.” he returned the greeting

“I know who you are, Carissa” suddenly she remembered the photograph

“Oh yeah… right” and she wasn’t even so sure if it was a good idea to come here “Sorry if I am bothering you… I actually only came because I think I got something of yours” she pulled out the photograph and saw how he raised an eyebrow as he carefully took it from her.

“I thought it gone when Nero took it from me” his index finger traced over the part of the picture that showed her. “Besides you could never bother me, I can even admit that it fills me with joy to see you again” This made her feel a twinge in her chest

“Did…did… was she... I-I mean was I, the other I with you on this mission? Did Nero… kill her?”

“No, she was not. I have lost her one hundred and two years before these incidents”

“Oh” she wasn’t sure if she felt sorry for him or if it was because it concerned herself “May-may I ask how it happened?”

“We were on a mission when another ship of the Federation appeared out of nothing. Of course we thought nothing by it, not even when our tries to contact them were not answered. By the time I discovered that the other ship had been infiltrated by the enemy, it was already too late” he looked at the photograph again “Carissa was in the engine room with a couple of cadets. They were all killed when the ship was fired at.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I mean not because it concerns me… and I know that you… I mean your younger self always said he doesn’t want compassion… but-but I can’t help it. Sorry”

“There is no need to apologize for your emotions. You are human and therefore cannot control them as we can. I am sure that my younger self is aware of this. He will need you, we both have lost so much. And I fear I am the one who owes you an apology, it was my doing you got into this perilous situation in the first place”

“If you’re trying to say that it is your fault that Romulus was destroyed or what Nero did because of that… it’s not. You wanted to help and you did everything to do so, I know that. It’s not your fault you weren’t there in time”

“That is one thing I have always loved so much about her, she always believed in the good of everyone and tried to help them. If more people were like you, the galaxy would be at peace. I am sure she would have made a splendid ambassador as well”

“Yeah, that’s something my diplomacy professor keeps telling me all the time. He believes that would have been more my thing than a member of Starfleet” Carissa shrugged.

“If I recall correctly, the reason for your visit was not just to give me back my property but to ask me some questions”

“Yes, unless you don’t want to…”

-oO0Oo-

All too soon she had to leave for dinner. She had to admit that she was glad that Spock wanted to stay in this timeline because she had grown very fond of him in the few hours she had talked to him about almost everything, from how her life had been in their timeline (though he didn’t tell her too much, it was still her own life after all). After dinner, she tried to find her boyfriend again but as it seemed he refused to see anyone and she couldn’t insist without making their relationship official. She knew that if he really needed her, he’d come to her even if he was a dickhead. But she could understand why he didn’t want to see anyone, she too felt the same way because she first needed time to cope with everything. And for him it was even worse. Spock’s future self had told her that they had lost their mother when Vulcan was destroyed. Besides, she knew that she would see him the following day in the lesson anyway.

-oO0Oo-

Her first day of school didn’t start all too well. When she arrived at the diplomacy classroom she was being pestered with questions about her ‘adventure’ in outer space and if what they heard was true. She tried to dodge the questions as good as she could.

“Look, I’ve spent about one hour aboard the bridge of Enterprise, but passed out just after we got into Warp. Then I was abducted by a criminal Romulan who came from the future and he wanted to kill me because he sought revenge. He made me watch the destruction of Vulcan, I got hit, knocked out and one of them came too close for my liking and another one tried to strangle me twice before I was saved. Then I helped saving earth from being swallowed into a black hole by being part of a suicide mission before we were saved in the last second and then were almost swallowed by the black hole we created... So I hope you can forgive me if I don’t want to talk about ‘my adventure’ right now…” that helped and her classmates left her alone. But the real shock came when the lesson started. Nine seats were empty. The seats of nine cadets who had been on the other space ships that were destroyed by Nero. Suddenly she felt more hatred towards the Romulan and felt tears in her eyes. Her thoughts drifted off quite a lot during the lesson and she got two rebukes from the professor

“Oh, hey Wiley” someone called after they left the classroom. She sighed when she recognized Oliver, one of her worst bullies. “Looks like someone was naughty and is about to get punished” he shoved her “Suddenly your lover isn’t happy with you anymore” she moved away from him

“You’re just jealous that I’m better at diplomacy. But if I see you talking to a fellow cadet like this…. I can understand why you’re failing this class. Maybe you should get some… special tutoring if you know what I mean” she grinned as she turned around

“Oh yeah? If this was about failing you should get into closer contact with Professor pointy-ear”

“That sounds like a good idea” she replied coolly. “I should ask him” then she walked away, pretty surprised that she only felt annoyance at the suggestion.

Her problems increased in exobiology. She quickly discovered that she wasn’t able to finish the essay they were given last week and got a reprimand.

“Now, I want you to write me an extra essay for next week on the biological similarities and differences between Romulans and Vulcans” she started laughing.

“I can already give you my conclusion now: To sum it all up, the situation can be seen similar to different human species. While the Romulans stayed on the primitive basis of the Neanderthals, Vulcans have developed to Homo sapiens. And for all I know you set up an essay to get a conclusion, isn’t that right? Besides, I have been captured by Romulans only two days ago, so yeah… I guess I know more about them than the rest of the class and can’t be objective towards them. That’s also the reason I couldn’t finish my essay”

“Then it should be no problem for you to write that essay and present it to your fellow cadets. And I must warn you, Cadet Wiley, next time you will watch your tone” she looked down.

“Of course, I’m sorry, Professor” luckily he left and started talking about the contents of their lesson; the Romulan anatomy. At the end of the class she was pretty pleased with herself and her contribution to the lesson; now her whole class knew of the weakness in Romulans’ ears. As it seemed not even the professor knew of this what made her even prouder. On her way to the next lesson she was asked questions again, this time her classmates seemed to be in awe and probably had realized that the mission had not really been a picnic. Much to her surprise, Spock wasn’t in the classroom when she entered. Instead there was a professor she had only seen once or twice before.

“Professor Spock is tied up with business matters from the mission at Vulcan a few days ago” they were told.

“Tied up with business my ass” Oliver muttered “I bet he’s crying in a corner because his planet’s gone. No wait, he probably doesn’t even care”

“Take that back!” Carissa growled “What would you do if Earth was destroyed, huh? Besides, it was his doing that nothing happened to you”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I have seen it with my own eyes”

“I thought you were captured by Romulans at that time”

“No, then I was already gone and helped them destroy the drill”

“You helped? Don’t make me laugh. You can’t even finish your homework properly, let alone save a planet”

“You know what? I wish that drill had hit you. Well, maybe it has, because I doubt you can be that stupid by nature”

“Cadet Wiley” she heard the professor’s voice “Is there something you would like to share with us?”

“I uh… Oliver Moore was making mean comments and jokes about the end of Vulcan and I told him that this is no laughing matter”

“That’s not what happened, uncle. Okay, I made a comment about the end of Vulcan but it only was a fact, not a joke or what she claimed. She overreacted and was the one who was mean to me and told me she wished I was dead”

“Is that true, Cadet Wiley?”

“No, I didn’t say I wish he died”

“You said you wanted that drill to hit me”

“Yes, that it knocked you out. Not killed you, besides that was just an expression of anger when you called me a liar”

“That is enough, Cadet Wiley, I demand to speak you after the lesson” she sighed. The lesson was bad but the talk afterwards was worse and left her in tears. She had the feeling that she was treated incorrectly and that the substitute teacher was biased because Oliver was his nephew as she had to find out.

All the stress and bad things that happened during the day only faded away when she noticed a message from her boyfriend on her PADD. He wished to see her in his office after dinner. Somehow she had the feeling this didn’t mean anything good. Nevertheless, she was looking forward to it and quickly ate dinner. Before she knocked at his door, she took a deep breath.

“Come in” carefully she opened the door and saw how he got up from his desk. Quickly, she closed the door and approached him, cupping his face

“Hey” his hands took hold of her wrists. “I heard you were busy today?” although she wanted to ask him how he was doing but she knew him well enough to know that she wouldn’t get an answer she wanted to hear.

“Yes, I had much work to take care of. What about you? How are your injuries doing?”

“Better. The medicine helped but I should go to the sickbay again tomorrow so that they can make sure everything’s alright again. As for my day… well” she started telling him of all the rebukes she had gotten in the morning, more than she had in all her time at the academy before.

“What is troubling you?”

“I just started to wonder if everything that happened in the past days has changed me too much”

“I doubt that it will have a permanent negative effect on your career if that is what you are afraid of. This presumably is merely the aftermath of the incidents, it is only natural that you are feeling different now”

“Yeah. I guess if I’m getting used to this again, everything will be normal again. A-and what about you? I mean… with everything that has happened… is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, there is not. In fact, no one can do anything against it. It has happened and I have to accept that” she nodded

“If you do need me anyways… I am here, okay?” she gently stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“I doubt that I will have to accept your offer but I do appreciate your willingness to help”

“It’s self-evidently” she replied as she stood on her tiptoes to peck his lips. To her dismay he quickly pulled away but a part of her understood. He obviously needed time “You mentioned that you had something to tell me?” she said, deciding to chance the topic. He nodded and offered her a seat

“After careful consideration I have made the decision to leave the Academy and join the crew of the Enterprise instead.”

“Oh. When… when will you be leaving?”

“They have not set a date yet, but it will take at least two months to repair the ship”

“So you will continue teaching in this time?”

“Affirmative” she nodded

“Well you being gone will take the only pleasant part of the class away…” she chuckled “Just-just promise that you will come back as often as you can. I-I mean don’t feel obliged to actually see me but just… I don’t know… let me know how you’re doing”

“Carissa, there is something else I need to tell you” she absolutely did not like his tone. She knew that she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

“What is wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong. But I believe it is better if we ended our relationship”

“What?” she shrieked. “Why? Did… did I do something wrong? What?”

“No, it has nothing to do with your behavior at all. This is about me”

“Bu-but why? If you need time, that’s okay. I mean… I can stay away from you a little until you are feeling better if that is what you want”

“This is not what I meant either”

“Then what?” she only hoped he wouldn’t tell her that he didn’t love her anymore.

“I am not good for you”

“Nonsense!” he shook his head

“I have told you many times that I cannot give you what a fellow member of your species can give you”

“And every time I told you that I don’t care. I told you that I was glad you’re that unobtrusive because my ex was too pushy. You know I don’t mind that you have your own way to show affection”

“You may not care now. But as time passes you will want more and I am not sure to what extent I can comply with your wishes”

“We’ll find a solution. And if not, we can talk about breaking up then. But what is wrong now? Do-don’t you want me anymore?”

“Of course I do, Carissa, but…”

“Then tell me why! Because I don’t see a reason which means you’re being illogical, Spock” she crossed her arms

“I am not and once I have told you the facts that made me come to the conclusion you will be able to understand”

“I doubt that but go on” she murmured.

“When I was giving Admiral Marcus my mission report, I have made the observation that I was the reason for your capture.”

“If you’re trying to say that it is your fault that Nero was angry with you I can tell you that it wasn’t. It isn’t even your future self’s fault. He did everything he could and no one could have known Nero would want revenge”

“That is a conclusion I have made as well. However, it was my doing that you were on the bridge of the Enterprise, which made it possible for Nero to recognize and entrap you”

“Yeah but let’s not forget that you initially planned to leave me behind because you didn’t want me to get hurt. You only complied because I insisted and was supported by Pike”

“Yet, assigning you to the bridge was not the most logical thing to do, as seen by Starfleet standards. It made more sense from my point of view since I was hoping to be able to have an eye on you during the mission. Now I realized that I should not have done this because I have come to the realization that my decision was not solely based on logic”

“So that’s why? Because I make you show emotions and think illogically? Do you fear anyone could notice you’re… I don’t know affected by something primitive like emotions?”

“No, after all you have made the discovery that I can act as if there is nothing between us”

“Fine, then you’re fed up with pretending to not be with me…”

“Carissa, I would appreciate it if you stopped jumping to such conclusions and would listen to me instead”

“Then tell me” she got up and glared at him.

“The chance of you getting into difficulties because of me is higher than I have thought. Of course, I have never calculated the possibility before but its result was not pleasant”

“In other words, you fear I could get hurt because of you?”

“Not only getting hurt as both of us will have to expect severe consequences if our relationship is discovered”

“Wow, you used the first conditional… you think the chances someone finds out the truth is that high?”

“Yes, after all I had to tell Admiral Marcus about our relationship when he inquired the reason for Nero’s interest in you. Besides, Cadet Kirk knows about us as well and one day, he will let something slip”

“Oh come on, the Admiral won’t do anything about it, I mean... he didn’t tell you to end things, did he?”

“He did not. However, he did remind me to not forget that you are still my cadet in class”

“See. He’s fine with it. And what concerns James Kirk, we can still claim he’s jealous and spreading rumors because of it”

“Carissa, you know of my natural aversion to lying”

“Fine, then I tell them the thing with rumors and you can say that you have not realized he could be jealous but that you could understand a human doing this out of jealousy… That isn’t a lie. And you can claim that nothing inappropriate has happened between the two of us which is the truth as well”

“You are distracting attention from the fact that there are more reasons speaking against our relationship”

“Hate to break it to you but relationships rarely got anything to do with logic. They’re purely emotional. But fine, if that’s what’s bothering you, have it your way” she turned away from him “I don’t understand your decision and I don’t like it. But in contrast to you I accept your decisions” she walked towards the door and cut him off when he tried to speak again “Save your breath. I’ve heard enough. I’m your weak point, I’m what makes you show emotion and you don’t want that” she turned back to him with tears in her eyes “I hope you’re happy now. No, wait, I hope you’re not happy, because you don’t want to feel at all. I hope you’re not feeling anything. That’s what you wanted, right?” without another word she stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut.

-

Next Chapter

[kalluun-patangaroa]

SUEDE: SLIGHTLY RESTLESS EUPHORIA

April 15th, 2011 

Illustration by Amber Halford

Suede fell out of bed into Britpop and Britpop controversy about Blur and bisexuality and who was doing what to who in what direction, but between episodes of public drama was glammy rock ‘n’ roll in the most classic English tradition. After years off duty, Suede is substantially re-united (without Bernard) and active and playing their first stateside gig at Coachella. This interview by Chris Ziegler.

How did Suede and Metallica ever get together for all-night rock sessions?

Brett Anderson (vocals): Our press agent sorta said, ‘Hey, Kirk Hammett is a big fan— should we get you together?’ So we went out to San Francisco to Kirk’s place and spent a lot of time being a bit naughty and playing songs in his basement. He had a studio—a little bit of a jamming room. I remember running through ‘Metal Mickey,’ we did a bit of T. Rex—we were off our faces, anyway. He’s a nice chap!

Kirk said he was struck by how normal you were and how you didn’t spank your buttocks once.

I should have spanked my buttocks. He was probably very disappointed. ‘This can’t be the real Brett Anderson. He’s not spanking his buttocks.’

What Crass lyric is so close to the front of your mind at all times that you can sing it to me right this second?

‘Do they owe us a living? Of course they fucking do!’ I love Crass. Feeding of the 5,000 was one of my favorite records growing up. I love that record. I love all the artwork. Talking about bands that draw you into a world—Crass really created their world, and it was a really confrontational, intelligent, political world. I really responded to it as a young teenager.

What part of the Crass ethos do you hold most dear?

I don’t live on a commune in Essex. But it opened my eyes—if it’s done right—how powerful political music can be. I never wrote overtly political music, but I did write music that dealt with not like party politics, but themes of poverty and alienation and I used that in songs—that was possibly inspired by Crass.

How was Suede a political band?

Dealing with the politics of life. Setting our songs in a real social context. I never wanted to be a writer who waved flags for a political party, but listening to the songs you can tell I was brought up as a member of the working-class, and you can tell the songs have a very strong left-wing bias.

You said you felt there hasn’t been a definitive genre of music invented in the U.K. in the last decade, and that you feel music is meant more to placate than provoke now. Why?

I do very much feel that’s the state of things. I can’t see that the last decade has created its own genre, which is a terrible shame for that generation. Not to say there hasn’t been great music. There’s amazing music! I love discovering new bands and there’s a great wave of new bands. But the biggest cultural development of the last like ten years was computer technology. It wasn’t anything to do with art and music, and that’s a shame. Even in the 90s, we had dance music—definitely a 90s genre. Maybe people have become too knowing. There’s too much of a structured sense of what’s cool and what isn’t, and that comes from magazines constantly publishing lists which contain the same five Beatles albums and this kind of thing. There’s this constant pressure to comply with this very sort of rigid set of accepted rock albums. So bands are too afraid to go outside those reference points. I sense this real fear in the music industry. A lot of it is because the industry has become a lot more corporate. People won’t take risks anymore. In the early 90s—that’s the only time I can talk about because that’s when I started—magazines were putting unusual bands on the cover. Magazines put Suede on covers before anyone had ever heard of us. Commercially, that was very ill-advised—but at least it suggested they had a sense of purpose. Now I get the sense people only back who they think are gonna win, regardless of if they actually think it’s any good or not. They will back who they think are the winners, and they will write good reviews for the bands they think are gonna sell lots of records whether they like them or not, and I think that’s a fucking terrible way to be. People are too afraid of not being cool? Or getting it wrong? No one’s willing to get it wrong. No one’s willing to stick their neck out and become a hated figure. No one’s got that kind of confidence. Everyone’s too willing to comply. It’s a terrible thing. But things go in cycles, don’t they? Maybe it’ll move into another period where people are taking chances.

When is the last time you suffered Stendhal syndrome?

At the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. I was looking at the Toulouse-Lautrecs, which were absolutely amazing. I’ve never been a huge fan of Toulouse-Lautrec before, but seeing the paintings in the flesh—as it were—is just so amazingly powerful. They’re so beautifully observed. I’m not sure if I actually experienced Stendhal syndrome, but I’ve read about it and it’s an extreme reaction to beauty—that’s the closest I can imagine it to be.

What’s it actually feel like?

Like drinking too much coffee. Slightly restless euphoria. Or maybe I’m getting it confused with actually drinking too much coffee. I’m a huge fan of art . I spend a lot of time in galleries and that’s my favorite period of art as well—the post-Impressionists. Paul Gauguin and those artists. I love all the medieval painters as well. People like Bruegel and Cranach and Holbein. There’s something incredibly primitive about it—Bruegel’s ‘Return of the Hunters’ is so atmospheric. What I really like about Holbein is he’s such an amazing draftsman and a great observer of human features. He could completely capture a person. You’re looking at someone who lived 500 years ago but it could be someone passing you on the street. They’re so real. I love that about Holbein’s paintings.

Did you want to try and observe things that carefully in Suede songs?

It’s difficult in the framework of pop music. It isn’t a very subtle medium. It doesn’t have as much as fiction or fine art. You’re in a very rigid structure—melody and rhyme and rhythm and those things are constricting you. I don’t think pop writers can ever take it to that depth of observation. But what pop writers can do is engage at an emotional level that other artists can’t do. The pop song, when done right, is incredibly powerful. That’s partly to do with the simplicity as well. Truth in music is incredibly important, but artifice can be incred- ibly important as well—that’s something I’ve done quite consciously. Lots of the songs I’ve written for Suede have been deliberately superficial but perversely enough there’s a kind of truth in that. A sketch is powerful because you fill in the missing pieces. You fill in the framework yourself. If it’s too full, there’s no space for you to interpret it.

Francis Bacon said, ‘The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery.’

Absolutely. One of the most important quotes ever about creativity. Something I’ve learned through mistakes over the years is it shouldn’t be too clear what you’re doing. Sometimes the sketch is so powerful because of the room for interpretation. As soon as you know what something is about, it somehow kills the mystery. And mystery is so important in music. That allows the song to have life beyond what it was intended for. When a writer’s writing, they have a very specific thing in mind, but they don’t know about the life of the listener. The listener applies his life to the music and there’s a new interpretation. That’s why a good song has so much power. It reaches into people’s lives. But to do that, there needs to be a sense of mystery. I’ve always tried to do that with detail. There’s this whole thing with great songwriters saying songs should be universal, but I actually think songs should be opposite—strangely specific and set in a place to make them real. I mean, still allow space for interpretation.

You said once that Suede writes about the used condom, not the beautiful bed. That kind of detail?

That’s not my favorite quote I ever said—but it keeps coming back. It must resonate with people’s vision of what the band is about. It’s quite a crass way of saying it, but I suppose it’s got some sort of truth. I always wanted to document the sort of grubby side of life. I didn’t want to talk in rock cliché. ‘Baby, I love you!’ clichés. I wanted to sing about the world I saw around me, and the world I saw around me was the used condom. It was the dusty street, the flickering TV. It was that use of detail and the fact I was born in the U.K. that made me write about the U.K. in detail, and it became distorted into the cliché of what became Britpop later—but it was never this nationalistic, jingoistic intention. It was just a desire to write about the world I saw around me.

Did you have to feel like you were living a Suede song to write a Suede song?

I don’t feel I deliberately changed my lifestyle. But I didn’t rein myself in. I felt justified in writing what I was writing—the right thing to do for my artistic vision was live the lifestyle I was singing about, but it’s kind of a chicken-and-egg thing. I was living that, obviously. But you can’t live that lifestyle forever and wanna remain alive. Things have to change. I championed—well, I documented it, and then you realize that what you’re documenting is quite harmful.

Did you think you were going to end up on a prison ship like Dan Treacy?

Well, toward the end of the 90s, things started getting quite dark. Life was definitely changing. I thought, ‘Well, maybe we need to veer away from something.’ I always feel I’m slightly on dodgy ground when people talk about this whole concept of the artist as a damaged character—it’s such a powerful cliché that people really wanna believe in, and I think there’s so much great art made through clarity and sobriety. The damaged artist casts a huge shadow people sometimes can’t see beyond. Me personally, as an artist now I feel much more in control of my art. Much more driven. Certainly more than I did ten years ago. But people need to believe in that sort of figure.

Jason Pierce said he started Spacemen 3 because of people like Roky Erickson and Alex Chilton—that he felt he could do what they did because they were flawed and not professional and perfect.

It’s the ultimate DIY ethic, isn’t it? The ultimate punk thing? Saying it doesn’t matter how incapable or damaged or all these pejorative adjectives you wanna apply—not you can still create art, but it almost makes your art more interesting or valid or gives it an edge you wouldn’t have if you weren’t damaged? Someone like Ian Dury—the ‘cripple as artist.’ It gives the audience a fascination, I think.

You said you were making music to find community in a fucked-up world. Did you ever find that community?

It’s always a search for some sort of community, isn’t it? There’s a line from one of the old songs, ‘New Generation.’ ‘We take the pills to find each other.’ A search for human … ownership or whatever. I don’t know. It’s strange to say because I’ve always conducted my career and Suede’s career almost as outsiders. I’ve never felt accepted by the music industry. I still don’t. I’ve never felt part of any sort of gang, and I never really wanted to be part of any gang. The only gang I’m part of is this weird disparate group of non-members—the ‘others’—and I’m quite happy in that role as well. I don’t jealously look at other people’s lives and wish I could be like that. I don’t have that search for community I used to have— maybe I realized the reality of things.

Does that mean it’s not out there? That it was never there? Can bands create these communities anymore?

That’s the definition of a decent band. They create a community. When I answered your question, it was in a personal sense. Whether I’ve found a community. But hopefully Suede as a band created a community. That was one of our real intentions—I loved bands like the Smiths who had this world you went into, with the sleeves and the reference points. You very much immersed yourself. I wanted Suede to have that sense as well. Almost a strong Suede way of being. The Suede army, as someone once said.

If you didn’t find community, what did you find?

It made my life. It gave me all those things we were talking about earlier. It gave me everything. Gave me purpose in life. I wouldn’t ever advise anyone to do what I did! I’ve been incredibly lucky in my career. 99 percent of people who go into music won’t be as lucky. It is a lot to do with luck! The fact I’ve met Bernard Butler—little things! I might never have met him, and we never would have written those songs and Suede would have been a very different band. I never just say, ‘This is what you should do!’ I was just confident and stupid enough to do what I did, and it just sort of worked! But some of the decisions I made—they were pretty rash!

Is it necessary to commit totally to being creative to be good at being creative? To jump in with no safety net?

Absolutely. You’ve gotta let yourself out there. I didn’t even have an instrument to fall back on! ‘I believe I got enough of a voice to say something interesting, and I’m gonna do it.’ Confidence verging on stupidity that happened to pay off!

Does pop music defend the brave and stupid?

I think so. You have to push it as far as it’ll go. Part of the reason the public loves pop music so much is the drama of the story. You have people who have no idea about the drama and just wanna listen to Phil Collins records and that’s fine, but there’s a whole other group of people that love the back story—how it’s made and why people fall out and fall in love. It’s almost treating the world of music like you’re watching a soap opera and people love that.

Why do people fall in love?

Probably some sort of chemical function. I don’t wanna be unromantic about it but it fulfills a necessary function for the human race.

L.A. Record (US Magazine), April 2011

[wickedsingularity]

After the Mission [One Shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairing: Jim Kirk x Unknown female Words: 1680 Warnings: Bruises, injuries, nakedness

Prompt: Your bed after travelling The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade Being so close that you can feel your lips brush when you whisper The tender ache when you press against bruises

A transport wasn't supposed to take this long. It felt like the planet never dissolved into the white dancing lights. Then there was white nothing for so long I was starting to get worried. But the longest was when the whiteness gave way to the familiar interior of an Enterprise transporter room. It was like watching an antique puzzle coming together. Piece by piece, spot by spot, the white disappeared, until finally after what seemed like years transporter room 2 came into full view.

"Velcome back!" Chekov's all too cheerful voice greeted us all as everyone had materialised. He was a wiz with the transporter, and it had not been an easy beaming, so much interference on the planet, in the atmosphere, from the planet core...

"To the medbay, all of you!" Dr McCoy ordered as he danced around the platform, holding a tricorder up in front of all of us in turn.

The last thing I wanted was to go to the medbay for a check-up. All I needed was a long warm shower, maybe a bath, and to curl up in bed with Jim. The bruises would heal, but the extreme urge to sleep could not be fixed by a hypospray. But Bones would not have it. Sneak away from a post-away mission check-up and he would start the paperwork to have you transferred to a garbage scow.

"You okay?" Jim's voice spoke quietly on my right, as he came up to me and rested his hand on my lower back.

I realised I hadn't moved, and had closed my eyes. "Just tired." I nodded and looked around at him. "And sore."

"Yeah. We all are. And filthy. I'm surprised he wants us in his medbay like this."

Turned out Bones didn't want filthy crew members in his ward, and had us walked through a portable contamination shower before even leaving the transporter room. And while that took care of any bacteria or other contaminations the transporter didn't already take care of, the filth was still there. As soon as I was given a clean bill of health, I went straight to Jim's quarters for that long shower.

When I was done, Jim still wasn't back. I hoped he was okay, he seemed okay when I left. He had taken a good deal of hits on the mission, but he hadn't been badly hurt. Though... Jim wasn't a stranger to hiding things like that from me. But no, I wouldn't even go there. It just wasn't his turn yet. Bones wanted to be extra thorough with him. He had to do some paperwork first. He wanted to make sure the entire away team was okay before he retired for the day.

The bed called my name. I convinced myself that Jim would come soon, when he was done with one of the excuses I had made up. So, I slung the towel unceremoniously over the chair by the desk and fell down onto the soft mattress. I bounced a little, then wormed my way to my spot. Whatever tension the shower hadn't washed away, rolled off me and I moaned. Loudly.

For a few longs minutes, I just lay there. While my body was beyond exhausted, my eyes were dry as bones, my limbs were heavy as boulders, sleep didn't come to me. Images from the mission flashed past my eyes, and I tried to cast them away and revel in the feel of the soft sheets against my bruised naked body. The contrast to the rocky ground I had been sleeping on for the past three days couldn't be greater.

My back hadn't liked the sleeping arrangements at all, causing an ache to run down into my legs. It had me rolling over onto the side, bending my knees and curling up in a foetal position. I pulled the comforter towards me and it stilled smelled like Jim from four days ago. I held onto it, and the familiar scent of my man made my mind relax and let go of the dark images. My eyes dropped and I fell asleep.

I don't know for how long I slept. Judging by the ache I still felt in my entire body, it couldn't have been long. But something had poked at my consciousness and pulled me back up to the surface. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw Jim.

Kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, his arms crossed on top of the comforter I had let go in my sleep, he rested his head on his arms. His usually bright blue eyes were dull, and the angry red, blue and purple cuts and bruises on his face stood in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.

"Hi, love," he whispered. "Just got back."

I smiled, my eyes falling shut. Feeling his breath on my face was like a balm. "Okay? I asked, thinking of his check-up.

"All things considered, yes. You?"

"Mmhmm," I hummed.

He leaned closer and placed his lips on my forehead, lingering for a long moment. "I'm going to shower and then I'll join you.

I hummed again and was asleep before he reached the bathroom door.

But soon, all too soon, something pulled me up again. I knew it was Jim. Because I felt him settling behind me. I knew the sound of his breaths, the feel of his skin against mine, the scent of his body wash. I let out a sigh of content, and he inched closer.

"You smell good, darling." Jim muttered against my shoulder, lips barely brushing my skin, his breath tickling me.

I let out a dry, sleepy chuckle. "I smell clean, Jim."

His fingers glided up the middle of my back, over my shoulder blade and up, then danced down my arm. Before he slid his arms around my waist, pulling me to him, a dull ache making itself known in my ribs. I ignored it. "That too. But I can smell you again."

The smell of the toxic rain, the mud, the sweat, came back to me. The acidity, the rankness, the... stench that had permeated our clothes, our skin, our cells. Yeah, we had slept under the night sky with four beautiful moons because our survival kits had been stolen, but the rainstorm the second night hadn't washed away the layers of filth, but the sticky substance falling from the sky had made new filth stick that much easier. Not to mention the acid smell of each drop...

I grabbed Jim's hand and pulled it up to my face, taking a deep breath of his clean skin.

"Hey." His nose poked my shoulder. "Turn around. I wanna look at you."

Using up the little energy I had gotten from my two short naps, I turned around in his arms.

"Hi." Before I barely had the chance to really look at him, his lips met mine. They felt dry and chapped from freezing down on the planet, but so familiar. He moved slowly against me, arms pulling me gently against him. Again, a dull ache came from my ribs, and again, I ignored it. I snaked my hands up over his naked chest, feeling his heart beat under my palm. It was the most comforting feeling in the world.

For a few long moments, our lips lingered, pressed against the other. Breathing each other in, and for the first time in days, I felt energized, like I was drawing life from Jim's breath. Eventually, we had to pull away, needing fresh air. But our foreheads leaned against each other, our noses touching.

"I never thought we would make it out of there," I admitted in a whisper.

"I never doubted it for a second," Jim replied.

I pulled back slightly, looking at him. He opened his blue eyes, they had some of their brightness back. "How could you have been so sure?"

"Because I knew I wasn't done holding you in my arms. I knew I wasn't done kissing you like this." He leaned in to do just that, his tongue darting out to wet them just before our lips met. My heart fluttered in my chest as he nipped at my bottom lip. He pulled away just far enough to break the kiss, but close enough so his lips still brushed against mine. "I knew I wasn't done loving you."

"I love you too," I whispered back.

"Starfleet's given us all tomorrow off," Jim continued. "Let's sleep, rest. Spock's got the conn for now."

"I like the sound of that." The little burst of energy I had felt was quickly slipping away.

Jim wound his arms around me again and pulled me with him as he settled on his back. I nestled my head in the dip of his neck and rested my arm across his stomach. He pulled the covers up and I snuggled even closer to him.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed and I snapped my head up, eyes wide and my heart pounding in my throat.

"I'm sorry! What did I do?"

"Nothing nothing, I just have a broken rib."

"James Tiberius Kirk! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Jim smiled tiredly, and the arm around my back pressed on me, signalling I should lie down again. "Because it's nothing to worry about. Just, don't hold me so tight yet. I know it's difficult to keep from hugging me tight, but try, okay?"

"If you weren't injured, I'd hit you right now."

"Sleep, love. Just sleep."

With a little bit more care, I snuggled into him, and settled for tangling my legs with his instead of tying my arms around his torso.

"Computer, lights off," I said to the bright room. Darkness fell around us, and within seconds, we were both asleep.

The reactions to the mission, to what we had been through, what we had seen, would come. I knew that. But for now, I just wanted to sleep all wrapped up in Jim. Gather enough energy to tackle what would come, whatever else space would drop in front of us.

[glittergummicandypeach]

If You Can’t Blame the Confederacy, Secede! | Abbeville Institute

American political theater has become the most entertaining show in town. Trump refuses to shake hands and Pelosi rips up his script.

This is red meat for the duly indoctrinated in the mainstream political parties, but in case you thought that Trump’s impeachment and subsequent acquittal would calm the waters and draw the final curtain on a five-month Greek comedy, the woke lunatics and their Girondist media allies have decided the show must go on.

And who can we blame? Why the Confederacy, of course, the fly in the ointment of good American government. If it wasn’t for those dastardly traitors of 1861 and their political progeny, America would be a glorious City Upon a Hill.

CNN’s John Harwood seems to think something nefarious is afoot from below the Mason Dixon:

While he clearly doesn’t know basic American geography or history, he certainly knows that the Confederacy is behind whatever problems ail America. How could these modern Confederates be so blind to the necessity of John Bolton’s important testimony, the same John Bolton whom leftists consistently called an untrustworthy warmonger until he had some dirt on Trump? They held the right opinion of Bolton before the show required a plot twist making the enemy of their enemy their friend. Except every viewer knew the end of the story before it showed up on the small screen. These people telegraph their punches like a drunk itching for a bar fight.

But Harwood’s geographic determinism thinly veils his real motivation: these Republicans who voted against his wishes are racist just like their ancestor traitors to the United States. And people wonder why Southerners still cling to the War, God, and guns.

The left won’t let them forget, except if they want to pack up or demolish a few hundred statues and remove the Confederate flag from every public space in the South.

“Hey deplorable, the War is over, except when we say it isn’t over.”

Of course, we all know that an independent South would be a vastly different country than the United States. The late Bill Cawthon did a splendid job explaining how several years ago.

And some leftists get it. The failed impeachment process has brought these woke secessionists out of the closet:

I’m all for it. “Jesusland” would be a pretty nice place to live and would be freed from the burden of being constantly overruled by some Yankee self-righteous do-gooder. It does, however, makes you wonder if “kim” realized that Trump is a byproduct of the U.S. of Canada? Maybe all these loving people north of the border are just bombastic jerks after all. Nah. That would make them Yankees, and Yankees are supposed to be the good guys.

Several hundred thousands dead Southerners would tell a different story, but what do they know? They were the ones who had the backbone to let the North go in peace in 1861 if they just sent the bluecoats back over the Mason Dixon. They tried “Jesusland” but were blown to pieces by Lincoln’s cannons. If they had their way, “kim” would already be living in a separate country.

And while the founding generation worried about the prospect of secession, very few would have wanted to go to war to prevent it. Patriots don’t kill other patriots, especially those who understood that self-determination is the bedrock of the American political tradition.

So who are the real traitors to America again?

Is Davis a Traitor? Or Was Secession a Constitutional Right Previous to the War of 1861? Albert Taylor Bledsoe, author, Brion McClanahan and Mike Church, editors Published a year after the war, it provides the best argument every assembled in one book for the constitutional right of secession. Everyone interested in the overall design of the Constitution ratified by the several States in 1788 should read this book.

Patrick Henry-Onslow Debate: Liberty and Republicanism in American Political Thought Lee Cheek, Sean R. Busick, Carey Roberts, editors A public debate carried on by President John Quincy Adams and Vice President John C. Calhoun under the pen names of “Patrick Henry” and “Onslow.” This important, but little known debate, about the limits of federal power is arguably more salient now than when it occurred.

Defending Dixie: Essays in Southern History and Culture Clyde Wilson A Collection of insightful essays on how Southerners think of themselves in the light of how they are perceived by outside cultural elites.

The Enduring Relevance of Robert E. Lee: The Ideological Warfare Underpinning the American Civil War Marshall DeRosa DeRosa uses the figure of Robert E. Lee to consider the role of political leadership under extremely difficult circumstances, examining Lee as statesman rather than just a military leader and finds that many of Lee’s assertions are still relevant today. DeRosa reveals Lee’s awareness that the victory of the Union over the Confederacy placed America on the path towards the demise of government based upon the consent of the governed, the rule of law, and the Judeo-Christian American civilization.

The Founding Fathers Guide to the Constitution Brion McClanahan An article by article and clause by clause analysis of the Constitution ratified by the founding generation of 1787 and 1788, a Constitution quite different from what the political class in Washington understands.

The Morality of Everyday Life: Rediscovering An Ancient Alternative to the Liberal Tradition Thomas Fleming Fleming (editor of Chronicles, A Magazine of American Culture) explains how the morality embedded in the ideology of liberalism leads to the decadence of morality in contemporary American society.

Forgotten Conservatives in American History Clyde Wilson and Brion McClanahan A study of thinkers who exemplify conservatism in a Jeffersonian idiom rather than a Hamiltonian.

In Search of the City on a Hill: The Making and Unmaking of an American Myth Richard Gamble A history of the "city on a hill" metaphor from its Puritan beginnings to its role in American "civil religion" today.

James Madison and the Making of America Kevin Gutzman Judged by Clyde Wilson to be the "standard" on Madison for sometime.

Nullification: How to Resist Federal Tyranny in the 21st Century Thomas Woods A readable, comprehensive treatment of the constitutionality of State interposition and nullification. Should be in the hands of every State legislator.

Nullification: A Constitutional History, 1776-1833. Vol. 1: James Madison, Not the Father of the Constitution W. Kirk Wood

Nullification, A Constitutional History, 1776-1833. Vol. 2: James Madison and the Constitutionality of Nullification, 1787-1828 W. Kirk Wood In this thoroughly researched and magisterial two volume work, Wood shows how nullification was an “American” constitutional principle (essential to republicanism), and not merely a Southern sectional one. And he explains how and why republicanism has been suppressed.

Rethinking the American Union for the 21st Century Donald Livingston Essays raising the question of whether the United States has become simply too large for self-government and should be divided into a number of Unions of States as Jefferson thought it should. (The book is signed by Livingston who wrote the "Introduction" and contributed an essay).

The Broken Circle David Bridges A historical novel (as close to historical detail as a novel can be), about Major James Breathed, an officer of horse artillery for JEB Stuart. Classically educated, deeply religious, and preparing for a career in medicine when his country was invaded, he reluctantly became a fierce warrior. He was wounded several times fighting from the very beginning to the end, in 71 battles. The Sons of Confederate Veterans recently awarded him the Medal of Honor.

Superfluous Southerners, Cultural Conservatism and the South, 1920-1990 John J. Langdale, III Explores the "traditionalist" conservatism that originated with John Crowe Ransom, Donald Davidson, and Allen Tate and continued with their intellectual descendants, Cleanth Brooks, Richard Weaver, and Melvin Bradford.

A Cautious Enthusiasm: Mystical Piety and Evangelicalism in Colonial South Carolina Samuel C. Smith Smith shows how Evangelical revivalism in the colonial South Carolina low country had origins in Roman Catholic mysticism, Huguenot Calvinists and German pietism. This disposition, usually identified only with Evangelicals, touched even high Anglicans and Catholics making possible a bond of low country patriotism in the Revolutionary era.

Fiddler of Driskill Hill David Middleton A collection of this prize winning poet’s work set in his home region of rural Louisiana, a place which views the world from a conservative, southern agrarian perspective. The fiddler is a figure of the traditionalist southern-agrarian artist.

Bourbon and Kentucky: A History Distilled Explores how distilling originated in Kentucky with it’s first settlers in 1775, and takes the viewer to the sites of Central Kentucky’s earliest distilling operations. Magnificent portraits and landscapes adorn the production.

The Southern Cross: The Story of the Confederacy’s First Battle Flag Chronicles the history of the design and creation of a flag that became the prototype for the famous Confederate battle flags. The hand-stitched silk flag with gold painted stars was borne by the Fifth Company of the Washington Artillery of New Orleans through the Battles of Shiloh and Perryville. The flag was designed and made for the army after the first battle of Manassas as a military necessity and wholly without the authority or even the knowledge of the Confederate government. Mary Henry Lyon Jones of Richmond, Virginia stitched the flag together. After Generals P.G.T. Beauregard and Joseph E. Johnston approved Ms. Jones’s flag, sewing circles of more than four hundred women in Richmond sewed 120 flags made from Ms. Jones’s original design.

Jefferson Davis: An American President The first and definitive documentary film on the entire life of patriot and president, Jefferson Davis. Across three beautifully shot and edited episodes, the full spectrum of Davis’ life comes into view: from his frontier origins and service to the United States as military officer, congressman, secretary of war, and two-term senator from Mississippi; to his rise and fall as Confederate President; through his unlawful two year imprisonment after the War; and finally covering his 25 years as a man struggling to find his place in a world in which it was no longer clear what it meant to be an American.

This content was originally published here.

[junker-town]

6 NBA rule changes actually worth trying in the G-League

What other rule changes should the G-League experiment with?

A four-point line, a wider court .... hey, G League, we have some ideas.

The NBA has never been afraid to experiment with its rules. From adding the shot clock and creating goaltending in the 1950s to the implementation of the three-point line in 1979, the league has long shown a willingness to tinker with tradition for the sake of watchability, at least as long as it doesn’t get in the way of the money.

Its latest bold experiment was announced on Thursday: starting in the G League this season, players will only take one free throw that will count for all of the potential points in the play. If a player is fouled on a three-pointer, he’s taking one free throw worth three points, save for the last two minutes of the game and overtime when the traditional foul shot rules are re-adopted. The goal is to shorten the length of the game, ideally to under two hours.

Why stop at cutting down free throws? If the NBA is set to use the G League as its official incubator for its biggest experiments, we came up with a few other rules changes that are worth trying.

Add a four-point line

When the media once asked Antoine Walker why he shoots so many threes, the longtime Celtics forward provided the only sensible answer: “Because there are no fours.” Let’s imagine the world he’d like to live in.

The NBA has reportedly been talking about adding a 4-Point line. #rednation #rockets pic.twitter.com/1KNxlFsO3n

— (@LiveSCS) February 25, 2014

The NBA has been considering a four-point line since at least 2014. There are teams all over the league — most notably the 76ers and Hawks — who have four-point lines drawn on the court during practices, typically drawn five-feet behind the three-point line at a shade under 28 inches. There are already publicly available statistics on shooting percentages from even greater distances.

A four-point line might produce some brutal individual misses, but overall would boost offense. Why? Because a four-point line means a greater area to defend, which means better spacing for the offense. As we’ve seen during this current era, the league’s best players are absolutely unstoppable in space.

If you think the idea of a four-point line sounds crazy, just imagine how people must have felt about the three-point line when the ABA introduced it in the late ‘60s. It only sounds outlandish until it happens.

Widen the court

Speaking of more space: how about widening the court? For one, it would eliminate the short corner three, which just so happens to be the most popular and most efficient shot in the modern NBA. Making the three-point line 23.75 inches all around, and not 22 inches in the corners, just makes logical sense.

A wider court would also mean more space for the best athletes in the world to to dazzle us with their speed, strength, and explosiveness. Imagine Giannis Antetokounmpo rumbling to the hoop with even more room created by a wider court. Imagine how much more real estate Steph Curry would be able to attract attention on to open things up for his teammates. If the NBA wants to take this current era of unprecedented offensive growth to another level, widening the court is the best way to do it.

Adopt FIBA goaltending rules

In the NBA, goaltending is called if the ball is touched while still over the cylinder of the rim. In FIBA, players can legally touch the ball immediately once it hits the rim. The FIBA rules can create some mesmerizing above-the-rim moments, like when Bruno Caboclo had a game-winning blocked free throw to beat Greece.

BRUNO CABOCLO WINS THE GAME BY SWATTING AWAY THE FREE THROW #brazil #greece #FIBAWC2019 pic.twitter.com/yuj9G7aCDd

— Fastbreak Breakfast (@fastbreakbreak) September 3, 2019

There is nothing more exciting in basketball than an above-the-rim play. Adopting FIBA’s goaltending rules in the NBA would do just that. Rim protectors like Rudy Gobert would suddenly become even more valuable. There could be an entire niche of players who were particularly skilled at swatting shots off the rim and maintaining possession. Think of all the tip dunks, too.

This seems like the most realistic rule change for the near future. We’re in for it.

Add a three seconds violation for the corners

ESPN contributor Kirk Goldsberry introduced this idea only a few months ago:

How do we create the perfect blend of perimeter action, slashing drives, post-up actions, and fast breaks? That’s a hard question, but one way to reduce loitering on the perimeter is to enact the same rules the league has applied to interior players. For instance, what if we simply added the three-second rule to the corner-3 zone? We could encourage movement on the perimeter and discourage all that standing around

Making two players stand in the corners all game is analytically smart, but not the most exciting brand of basketball. By apply the same three seconds rule in the corners the league already has in the paint, players would be forced to move more freely off the ball and not just space the floor as far as possible.

Shorten the game to 40 minutes

If the NBA wants games to finish more quickly, why not just shorten the actual length of the game? Instead of four 12-minute quarters for a 48-minute game, they could switch to four 10-minute quarters for a 40-minute game. It would help reduce wear-and-tear on players and accomplish the tight broadcast window the league clearly wants.

Shortening the game to 40 minutes would impact statistical touchstones. A 50-point game would be so much more difficult to get, for example. Karl Malone’s record for points scored in a career would be untouchable. Individual scoring averages would go down. On the other hand, per-game statistics are already pretty much only used by the most casual fans. New historical thresholds would pop up. Instead of messing with the structure of the game to shorten it, the easiest alternative is to trim two minutes off each quarter.

Eliminate live ball timeouts

A long-running NBA truism is that the last minute of a game actually takes 15 minutes. Few coaches trust their players in crunch-time, preferring to call a timeout and set up a play rather than let their players make something happen.

What if they didn’t have the option? Eliminating live ball timeouts, especially in crunch-time, would put the onus back on the players. The end of games would be so much more exciting without stoppages and it would shave valuable minutes off the overall run-time.

More chaotic buzzer-beaters, fewer timeouts to draw something up. The G League is the perfect place to try it out.

[shellsun3-blog]

“It’s a we thing.” Unpacking the Bears’ 2018 season-ending press conference

After running wild through the NFC North and surprising many around the NFL in 2018, the Bears’ 12-4 season ended in disappointment relative to the lofty heights they reached over the past four months. Fortunately, with a star-studded defense, a quarterback on the rise, and leadership that understands what it will take to run through the playoff gauntlet, the future looks bright.

On Monday, Bears general manager Ryan Pace and head coach Matt Nagy acted as that needed leadership as they spoke to a gathered media contingent in Lake Forest. They touched on what sparked one of the more memorable seasons on the lakefront in recent memory, Today Show quibbles, where they have to improve as an organization, and much more.

Here are my thoughts on every major note as the Bears officially turn their attention toward the 2019 off-season.

The merits of Pagano

The new defensive man with a plan in Chicago.

Photo by Stacy Revere/Getty Images

The Bears made waves to lead off this past weekend when they hired former Colts head coach Chuck Pagano to be their new defensive coordinator. Noted guru Vic Fangio had left to become head coach of the Broncos, so Chicago moved quickly to find his replacement. Pagano has been someone that’s been around the NFL for more than two decades, having garnered loads of respect and an underrated reputation in high esteem.

As Pace and Nagy waxed poetically about their new defensive leader, it was immediately evident as to why the Bears wanted to bring Pagano in and hold him tight.

Nagy first called Pagano a puzzle piece of sorts for the Bears defense, and cited his experience and aggressive style as being the most attractive pieces of his resume. “He has an attacking style. He is aggressive. He’s had a lot of success,” Nagy said. “The more we talked, the more we felt this was a perfect fit for us.”

Pace couldn’t help but reverberate the same thoughts of his coach, as he deferred to Nagy’s call. “He has a very aggressive mentality, he’s a great person, great evaluator, great dealing with people, has had success in the past, and he’s very collaborative,” Pace said.

The Bears know what they’re getting with the 58-year-old defensive mind. Some of it may be inflating their own hire, but there was mostly genuine excitement as to the prospects of what Pagano brings to the table.

The last time Pagano served as defensive coordinator for anyone was with the Ravens in 2011. Baltimore finished with the league’s best defense by DVOA and that was with a 33-year-old Ed Reed and 36-year-old Ray Lewis: the two cornerstones of the unit outside of former Defensive Player of the Year in Terrell Suggs. In Chicago, Pagano gets to work with Khalil Mack, Eddie Jackson, and Roquan Smith: prolific players in or around their prime with plenty of tread left on their tires.

There has been concern over how the Bears could maintain the same high level of defensive play they enjoyed this year without Fangio at the helm. The fact of the matter is, the last time Pagano had anything close to the amount of defensive talent he has with the Bears, his team played on Championship Sunday. Those continuity concerns may soon go by the wayside.

Not a Today Show, not an any day show

Someone’s placekicking days are clearly numbered.

Photo by Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images

Has there ever been more of an unnecessary mess in the aftermath of a missed field goal? After Cody Parkey’s now infamous “Double Doink” against the Eagles, he booked an appearance on NBC’s morning staple the Today Show this past Friday. Then, on Saturday, Goose Island held a kicking competition outside their main brewery for roughly 100 brave (but mostly foolish) souls to attempt to kick the length of Parkey’s miss (43 yards) in snowy conditions. A truly brilliant promotion to capitalize on the part of the company, with a good amount of hilarity ensuing from the slipping and sliding.

But in terms of twisting the knife and drawing out what was already an anguishing play for many in Chicago, you couldn’t have done much more. For the Bears specifically, Parkey’s clear self-serving appearance on national television to talk about his miss and his moment didn’t sit well with higher-ups.

“In our locker room we talk about a we thing,” Nagy said in reference to Parkey’s sit down interview. “And that was more of a me thing.”

That’s essentially Nagy, ever the professional, politely saying Parkey’s quick foray into the spotlight was extremely selfish and overshadowed the strong culture the Bears have established as a team. That’s Nagy trying to play the nice guy but putting the writing on the wall: after one season, Parkey’s time with the Bears is over.

It’s one thing to miss 11 total kicks over the course of one season, including the playoffs. It’s another thing to miss a kick that ends your team’s playoff dreams. It’s on an entirely different planet to then talk about your struggles publicly in the aftermath of the miss without any consideration of those with your organization. Parkey did receive a lot of death threats on social media in the aftermath of the miss, which is never okay. There should also be proper processes and systems put in place for mental health of athletes.

However, whatever happened to the middle ground of, “hey, this athlete failed at his job, dramatically so, and can and should be fairly criticized as such.” It doesn’t and shouldn’t have to veer to either absolute of death threats or “it’s difficult to make 43-yard kicks, leave him alone, what’s wrong with you?” This can be a nuanced conversation. Why ever comment if an athlete can’t be held accountable for their responsibilities?

Evidently, the Bears feel the same about Parkey’s failures and subsequent selfish routine along that middle ground. All that’s left for them to do is eat the dead money on his contract (approximately $4.4 million) in the coming months: a guarantee at this point. They’ll have to if they want to move on past this episode and find a more consistent place kicker. After that, a recent all-too-familiar Chicago kicking carousel begins anew.

A second Hunt

Could Kareem Hunt be donning a Bears jersey next fall? Controversy will not be short in this matter.

Photo by Kirk Irwin/Getty Images

In late November, graphic video from last February surfaced of former Chiefs star running back Kareem Hunt assaulting a women. He was summarily released by Kansas City despite being one of the most productive young running backs in football on one of the best teams in football.

Domestic violence, after all, is a sensitive issue that many (justifiably so) feel professional sports teams, not just those in the NFL, have a responsibility to do better in regards to violence from active players. That goes double for violence against women and partners. It’s an area where the sports landscape has significantly lagged behind in getting with the times. While this wasn’t technically a case of domestic violence as it wasn’t between people living together at home, it was assault and violence against a woman along latter lines.

Hunt never caught on with another team after passing through waivers and is now sitting in the free agent wire, waiting for a second opportunity that may never come. That is, unless you ask the Bears apparently: who didn’t rule out the possibility of signing the 2017 Pro Bowler.

“I’m a guy, I’ve been raised that way, to give second chances,” said Nagy in response to the possibility of Chicago acquiring Hunt. “That’s his situation, and I wanted to talk to him about it as a true personal side.”

Nagy clarified that he had personally reached out to Hunt a week ago and wanted to check in on where he stands. Pace, in this conversation, otherwise remained vague on the prospects of Hunt making hay in Lake Forest: perhaps a statement on his stance in it’s own right.

From a pure football fit, it doesn’t get much better than what Hunt would offer the Bears. He’s a multi-faceted back that’s an excellent route runner out of the backfield and is a powerful and patient runner between the tackles. Having Hunt on board would allow the Bears to reach a level of diverse offensive explosion they were never quite able to attain with one dimensional players like Jordan Howard and Tarik Cohen splitting time.

That being said, the ledger of Hunt’s past will assuredly be difficult for many to overlook: both on a local and national level.

When the Bears signed former 49er Ray McDonald (similar issues) back in 2015, rampant fervor and heat on the move eventually led to them backing out of the signing. That was on a far less important role player. Acquiring a centerpiece like Hunt would lead to far more controversy, far more necessary hand-wringing, and a storm even the Bears themselves might not be prepared for, as much as they think they may be. Hunt may also not be even be able to play for most of the first half of the season: as a concrete suspension for his actions hasn’t been doled out yet.

At any rate, the glow and honeymoon of what the 2018 Bears reinvigorated in football in Chicago would be understandably over for many in lieu of Hunt’s potential arrival. The platitude of “second chances” Nagy made sure to emphasize over and over would ring hollow.

One’s thing for sure amongst this hoopla: the Bears may not possess a ton of salary cap space, they may not have a bevy of high draft picks, but it will still be an eminently fascinating off-season at Halas Hall.

Robert is the Editor-in-chief of The Blitz Network, the managing editor of Windy City Gridiron, and has a host of bylines for many fine publications. You can follow him on Twitter @RobertZeglinski.

Source: https://www.windycitygridiron.com/2019/1/14/18182609/chicago-bears-matt-nagy-ryan-pace-chuck-pagano-cody-parkey-kareem-hunt-press-conference-nfl-2019

[goingknowherewastaken]

Katie’s 21st Birthday Challenge

Hello, everyone!!! It’s Katie here! (idk if I’ve ever shared my name on this account...sorry if I haven’t before)

I know I’m pretty new to the fanfiction side of this site (and I’m forever blown away by the love that you all have shown me :D ), but I had seen others pose the question on here and I thought I’d pose my own - Is anyone interested in writing a fic for me? 

See, my birthday is on May 29th and I’m turning 21!!! :D Since it’s a milestone I sort of decided to turn it into a writing challenge :)

Katie’s 21st Birthday Challenge

This is also my first ever time hosting a challenge! Now, I have no idea how many people will actually want to do this, but I’ve included a few different lists of prompts that you can choose from because I was having a difficult time deciding which ones I wanted to use and I wanted to give you all a lot to work with. You are more than welcome to mix and match the prompts as your little heart desires :) 

Because I have a lot of favorite characters, I narrowed things down by focusing on what ‘trash cans’ I’ve been gravitating to lately)

Focal Characters (for general fics or reader inserts):

Jim Kirk (AOS)

Leonard McCoy (AOS)

Scotty (AOS or TOS)

Steve Trevor (DC Comics) (WW is coming up and I’ve fallen hard into this one)

Entry options:

Option #1: Send me an ask for a character and at least 1 prompt (let me know if I should pick from a certain prompt list(s))

Option #2: You can send me an ask for a character if you already know which prompt(s) you want to use (let me know what prompt off of which list you’re picking)

Option #3: Send an ask for a prompt(s) if you already know what character you want to write for (let me know which character)

Option #4: If you have a prompt(s) and a character that you want to write, send me an ask giving me a heads up

Prompts are not first come, first serve, but I’d like for there to be some variety in the characters and prompts used so keep an eye on what’s being picked. If certain ones are being picked a lot, I’ll probably hand out one of the others if you ask for me to give you one. 

You also have free-reign over the content in your fic and it’s length :) I tend to read a little bit of everything so you can do character ships or reader inserts...

And finally, fics are due by June 5th(???) (I’m giving you all a little extra time for these) and make sure to include the tag #KatiesBirthdayChallenge within the first five tags of your fic. 

And tag me, of course  :)

Wait! One more thing! Just have fun with it! ♥♥♥♥♥

(quickly tagging a few that were interested - @wonders-of-the-enterprise @coyoteimagines )

Prompt Lists:

Song Prompts

Anna Sun || Walk The Moon

MANiCURE || Lady Gaga

Medicine || The 1975

Young and Menace || Fall Out Boy

Paris || The Chainsmokers

Kilojoules || Freelance Whales

I’ll Be Seeing You / I’ve Grown Accustomed To Your Face || Barbra Streisand, Chris Pine

Closer || The Chainsmokers, Halsey

Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes || Fall Out Boy

Shape Of You || Ed Sheeran

These Walls Won’t Talk || General Ghost

Aeolus || Freelance Whales

Castle on the Hill || Ed Sheeran

All These Things That I’ve Done || The Killers

The Cure || Lady Gaga

Cutthroat Kitchen Prompts (from this list)

“I’ve never seen that done before. There’s a reason for it. It’s a bad idea.”

“There’s a thin line between brulee and Pompeii.”

“Come hell or high water, that prosciutto will be mine.”

“Aw, a fresh, new batch of dreams ready to be crushed.”

“Are you ready to dance with the devil?”

“Just for the record, I’m never talking to you again.”

“Oh, hello, corner that I backed myself into.”

“Easy cheesy.”

“Well, we’ll see about the delight.”

“All is not well in waffleville.”

“I’ll be honest with you – I was raised by wolves.”

“You had enough money to not have this happen to you.”

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do without it! [evil laugh]”

“I’ll make you burn for this.”

“Bacon is a crutch.”

Other Prompts (selected from perfectlyrose’s masterlist because it’s a goldmine)

you must be in a painting class because I came across you trying to carry a massive, wet painting and I thought I’d help you because it’s super windy out but Wow! I wasn’t prepared for you to be a masterpiece as well

“You just caught me reading hardcore smut fan fiction during class and you’re wondering how I can read this with a blank face.”

“This horrible umbrella won’t extend! Oh shit I just hit you in the stomach/crotch! I’m so sorry.”

hey i just moved into the house next door and i just wanted to let you know that your dog keeps getting into my yard an - wait what? what do you mean that’s a cat????? that’s no a cat it’s fucking huge!!!! (turns out it is a cat, it’s just really big and fat)

in any public place: i could swear you keep looking at me, hang on are you drawing me

'i found you sleeping on my balcony when i went out to water my plants why are you here and more importantly how did you get here we’re eighteen floors up’ au

“You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting very suspicious”

We’re at a concert and I can’t see a thing let me sit on your shoulders, maybe?”

we were cleaning up after the show and got locked in the theater over night and i swear i just heard a noise coming from that dark corner

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

“Fuck I feel like I got hit by a car… Wait I did? And it was your car?”

‘we’re roommates and we’ve barely interacted so far but one night there’s a thunderstorm and i’m a serious astraphobic and come into your room shaking bc i dont know what else to do and you lull me to sleep by stroking my hair and softly ranting about niccolo machiavelli’ au

‘you’re staying with us while your mum’s away and every night you sleep walk into my bed and i can’t bring myself to kick you out because you’re adorable as all hECk and i’ve never slept so good’ au

‘i drew you a mathematical heart curve for valentine’s day u nerd’

You’re a famous viner and I constantly witness you doing the weirdest things AU

AU Prompts (i don’t have prompt lists for all of these...sorry)

Soulmate!AU (there’s a shit ton out there, but this list and this list cover’s a lot if you need ideas) 

Fantasy!AU

A/B/O!AU

Modern!AU

Powers!AU

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Word Count: 2074 Author’s Note: This is for @mp938368, @fandomheadrush, @yourtropegirl, @outside-the-government and anyone else who wanted to know what had led Jim to such drastic measures as attempting a force cohabitation between Bones and Reader... The original five minute ficlet is inserted at the end for context.

You walked into MedBay, not really paying attention to where you were headed. Instead, you were focused on the assignment information stored on your PADD. You were to report to Doctor McCoy, on the Enterprise, and await further orders as pertaining to your assignment. You’d heard of the Enterprise - who hadn’t - and were excited and amazed to be assigned to her for as your first placement post-graduation. You’d even heard of some of the crew, but Doctor McCoy was a bit of an unknown commodity. He hadn’t done his med school at the Academy, so there were no legendary stories of his capabilities. Just the knowledge that he’d done his officer training at the same time as the captain of the Enterprise, Jim Kirk. Jim Kirk, on the other hand, was a legend. His shenanigans had been something cadets could only dream of achieving. You double-checked your PADD again. McCoy. Not McKay. You weren’t entirely sure why you were so nervous, and brushed it off as first assignment jitters. You stopped just shy of the CMOs office and checked your PADD again.

“Doesn’t matter how many times you look at that thing, kid, it’s not gonna change that this is where you’re supposed to be.” The gruff voice coming from the office startled you and you looked up. Your mouth dried and you swallowed thickly. Doctor McCoy was better looking than the few people you’d known who’d met him let on. You could understand that beside the dazzling and showy looks of Jim Kirk, someone might miss McCoy. He was a completely different kind of handsome. You regained your composure and smiled, weakly.

“Doctor McCoy?” You asked.

“I’m assuming you’re the new nurse?” He asked. Before you could nod, he was looking down at his PADD, flicking across the screen. “Y/L/N?”

“Yes, sir.” You took a tentative step into the office. He looked up and scowled.

“No sirs here, Y/L/N, I run a MedBay, not a military unit. As far as I’m concerned we’re all created equal.” He gestured for you to sit. You did, slipping your PADD into your bag before dropping it on the floor beside you. “You’ve got a great academic record.”

“Thank you, s- uh, Doctor McCoy.” You swallowed again and interlaced your fingers in your lap so he wouldn’t see them shaking. The shaking hands were getting a little ridiculous, and you drew in a deep breath to try to force your brain to regain some composure.

“All incoming new staff work the Alpha shift for the duration of their probationary period. You’d be working under me as clinic lead. The head nurse is Christine Chapel, and you won’t find a better nurse to consolidate under. In two weeks time, we’ll have a sit down, the three of us, and discuss how you’re doing. It’s not meant to be a critical evaluation, but a chance for us to sit as a team and identify in what areas you need more support. You’re a new grad, you aren’t expected to know everything and be good at everything. So relax, show up tomorrow morning for shift, and approach your probationary period the same way you did your preceptorship. We’re here to make sure you’re ready to work with minimal supervision by the end of the period. We’re not here to sink you.” The way he said it suggested he’d had plenty of new grads in his medbay. You felt yourself relax a little with the realization that you had nothing to worry about. “That said, if you aren’t here to work, kid, we’re going to have problems.”

You felt your brow furrow in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be here to work?”

“It’s a young ship. I know you’re joining us late, but four years is a long time. This isn’t a party.” The way he said it, you knew the statements were supposed to make sense in context of each other, but you still didn’t quite get it. “Report to Chapel, and she’ll get your oriented to the facilities. When she’s done, feel free to head to your quarters and get settled.”

You nodded, and excused yourself to find the head nurse. She was at the nurse’s station, charting something on a PADD. She smiled warmly at you when you approached. “Y/N? You look a little overwhelmed. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You followed her through the MedBay without saying much.

The ensign in front of you was pale and sweaty. You checked his vitals quickly and noted his blood pressure was low. When you looked up, you saw Doctor McCoy watching you with just the hint of a smile. You acknowledged the look with a small smile of your own before returning to your patient. As you moved around MedBay, you could feel the CMO watching you. You weren’t sure why it was so unsettling, he was just keeping an eye on you because you were new, and the patient was complicated. But you felt a little unsettled anyhow, and blamed it on the ridiculous crush you knew you were developing on him. He had a prickly shell that made him a little difficult to approach, but you’d seen very quickly past that to the qualities that had drawn him into medicine in the first place. He was empathetic, nurturing, and compassionate, despite having a brusque bedside manner. You snuck another glance at him, and felt your cheeks heat when he caught you looking. You looked back at your patient and continued your assessment.

Christine had taken you under her wing, and insisted that no matter what the CMO said, he didn’t intend for you to not have any social life. So you were sitting with her in the lounge, listening to Uhura sing, meeting some of the non-medical crew.

“Christine, Y/N,” McCoy paused on his way past. “Chris is seeing to your recreational education as well?” He winked and you felt your cheeks grow pink, but forced yourself to make eye contact and give him a weak smile.

“You really need to figure out a better way to give your welcome to the ship lecture, Leonard,” Christine laughed. “Y/N was halfway convinced that there was to be no socialization, even in off-duty hours.”

McCoy scowled at Chapel and shook his head. “Glad you’re straightening that out then,” he grumbled before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “What I meant was don’t forget you have duties to the ship.”

“Bones!” The captain approached. “Are you headed my way or are you going to spend the rest of the evening flirting with your nurses?”

“I’m not -”

The captain sat down beside you. “You must be Y/N. Bones mentioned the new nurse was a looker, but as usual, I see understatement is his strong suit. We haven’t met informally yet, Y/N, but I’m Jim.”

You felt your cheeks heat even more. Up close, the captain was almost too good looking. He didn’t seem real. You looked up at Doctor McCoy, who was also blushing, and met his gaze. Unable to look away from him, you spoke to the captain. “He said I was a looker, did he?”

Jim laughed and rose, wrapping an arm around McCoy’s shoulders. “It was almost poetry, he said -”

“That’s bourbon isn’t gonna drink itself, Jim,” McCoy interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

You hadn’t seen Doctor McCoy leave his office yet this morning and you were a little concerned. You knew the disaster from the previous day’s away mission had caused him to work through Beta and Gamma shifts as well. He shouldn’t have remained on duty, but had insisted he was fine, and in a fit of temper you’d never seen, chewed out Chapel for overstepping her boundaries as head nurse. She had been fuming ever since, and when you asked if she’d seen him, she hadn’t even answered, but turned her back and gone back to stocking supplies, muttering about ‘self-entitled assholes’. Between patients, you made him a cup of coffee and crept back to the office door, tapping gently before pressing the release to open it. He was dozing, his head laid on the arm across his desk.

“Doctor McCoy?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. He snapped back up into sitting, scowling for the sake of it, while scrubbing a hand down his face. His scowl softened when he recognized you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he yawned. “I suppose Chris isn’t speaking to me?”

You offered the coffee. “Can you really blame her, sir?”

“What did I tell you about calling me sir?” He arched an eyebrow. You met his gaze, head on. His hazel eyes were ringed with red, and the dark circles under them told you everything you needed to know about his mood and level of function.

“You’re so sour today, sir, I wouldn’t dare call you anything but.” It was probably more pert than you’d intended, but a little sass never seemed to bother him. He took a long drink from his coffee and winced.

“This is sweet,” he complained.

“Just enough sugar to propel your legs one in front of the other back to your quarters,” you nodded.

“It didn’t work when Christine tried to dismiss me, why the hell do you think you’ll get away with it?” He asked, suddenly more alert. You met his eyes again and just looked at him. He sighed and finished the coffee. “Walk me back, and I won’t consider it insubordination.”

You looked away and nodded. “I draw the line at tucking you in, sir,” you added as you followed him out of his office. You threw a thumbs up toward Christine while McCoy wasn’t looking.

You were in the commissary finishing dinner alone, engrossed in a book on your PADD. From the corner of your eye, you saw some movement, and the table jiggled slightly as someone put their tray down. You looked up and locked gazes with Doctor McCoy.

“Late dinner?” He stared at you, like he’d forgotten that there was food in front of you.

“Not really. I got really caught up in this book, and haven’t really been paying attention to my food,” you admitted, unable to look away from him. Was there a flash of blue in the bottom of one of his irises?

“Am I disturbing you? I could find another spot,” he offered, finally looking away. The mess was sparsely populated by this late in the evening. You shook your head, catching his eyes again.

“Of course not, Doctor McCoy. Stay put,” you admonished. “I welcome your company.” He smiled and looked down at his plate. He looked back up and smiled, and you nearly melted.

“Don’t tell Chapel, but you’re my favourite nurse.” Considering Christine was standing right beside you in the dark nightclub, all you could do was laugh.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed. Christine just shrugged.

“Favourite probably means more work anyhow,” she countered. McCoy winked at both of you and turned back to the bar.

“Two for my angels in blue,” he told the bartender. He and Jim had had a friendly disagreement that let to a bit of a drinking contest. McCoy was a little tipsy and you hadn’t seen Jim in a while.

“You weren’t kidding about Risa, Chris,” you commented. She smirked and leaned across you to accept the drink that McCoy had passed toward her.

“Come on and dance with me, Y/N!” McCoy put a drink in your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor. You threw back the drink and put the glass on a table as he dragged you along. He turned, and pulled you into his arms. You smiled, thinking to tease him when you looked up, but got caught in the intensity of the look he was giving you, and instead said nothing, allowing him to lead you around the dance floor.

“Doctor McCoy -”

“Honestly, Y/N, it’s past time you started calling me by my first name,” he cut you off, rolling his eyes.

“Alright then, Bones, I need you to come over and take a look at this wound. It appears to be suppurating,” you retorted. He cocked an eyebrow at you and you boldly met his look, your own eyebrows raised. A small smile, reminiscent of the very first one he ever gave you, twitched at his cheek.

You were seated in Doctor McCoy’s office, waiting. He’d muttered something about “goddamn operation requirements” when he’d told you he needed to meet with you, and you suspected Starfleet had finally got wind of the fact that no one in medical had been receiving performance evaluations.

Needless to say, you were surprised when both Doctors M'Benga and McCoy entered the room. You immediately began to wrack your brain for major med errors or incidents that might need investigation, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on? Bones scowled. You tried to hide your cringing unsuccessfully, and nodded.

"You’re not in trouble, Y/N,” M'Benga offered. “But there is a conflict of interest that needs to be resolved before you can return to duty.”

“I’m not sure what -” you started. Bones held up his hand to stop you.

“Jim submitted a cohabitation request on your behalf,” he interrupted. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m not in a relationship,” you protested. Bones sighed and you thought he might be blushing.

“The captain feels that we might stop,” he cleared his threat, “uh, I think the term he used was eye-fucking, so much if we could actually get some time alone.”

“What?” You gasped. You and Bones had a friendly flirtation only. Didn’t you?

“I suggested that a shift switch or change of assignment might be a more appropriate way to allow me to broach the idea of taking you on a date,” he grumbled.

“Oh.”

[youre-on-a-starship]

Prompt: “would you ever write a fic where you had to take care of an injured/sick Bones?” -Anon

Word Count: 2,932

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a little longer than expected. I’ve had this idea running around for a long time and I got a little carried away with it. I really hope you enjoy it!

---

Focussing on the pulsing whoosh of blood through your ears helped you focus on the moment at hand. The heat from your coffee cup started becoming too much to bear and you placed it on the table. You ran your fingers through your hair and looked up at the clock. It was going on hour twenty-three.

Two nurses sat across from you, each on their PADDs scrolling through a collection of their messages from each other and from home, trying to collect their thoughts during their brief respite.

“Doctor McCoy?”

You turned at the voice. Christine was in the doorway, a timid look on her face.

“What’s going on?” you asked, standing, already knowing somehow.

“He’s awake.”

“Thank God,” you breathed as you rushed out of the room after her.

You stuck your hand in your pocket to feel for your tricorder as you approached the closed door of Leonard’s room.

“Can you let Captain Kirk know that he’s up?” you asked as you overtook Christine.

“Should I let him in right away?” she started falling back, turning for a computer terminal.

“Let me gauge him first, just keep Kirk outside for now,” you nodded your thanks as you opened the door.

Leonard was laid out under a thin sheet. His arms rested on the top of the sheet, a thick bandage wrapped from wrist to shoulder on his left.

“Hi,” you said, watching as he stared at you, trying to get his bearings. “You with me?”

“I think so,” he groaned. “Havin’ some trouble seein’ you, though.”

“It’s probably the morphine,” you said, pulling out your tricorder and beginning your scan at his head. “Your vision should be alright, you didn’t sustain -”

“Banged my head real good,” he said, his eyebrows twitching. “You ain’t supposed to be doin’ that.”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with you,” you said, pausing your scan for a moment and meeting his swimming hazel eyes.

“What happens when I die?”

“Don’t you start,” you snapped, resuming your scan. “That’s exactly why I couldn’t let anyone else have you. I trust myself.”

Leonard was quiet while you finished your scan. You were aware of his eyes on your face the whole time, reading you for clues about his condition. You were careful not to give anything away, keeping your jaw set and your eyes trained on the tricorder readouts.

When you put the device away, Leonard finally spoke again.

“Am I gonna live?” he tried to sound nonchalant, but you heard the dead tone in his voice.

“I think so,” you winked at him. “Lee, can you remember anything about what happened?”

“I remember the fall.”

Of course he'd skip to the good part.

“Can you tell me what lead up to that?” you prodded, stepping to the computer terminal and inputting the tricorder’s readouts.

“I was with Spock, we were running from their security team. Spock called for evacuation, and then they started firing,” Leonard took a deep breath. You looked back at him and he had his eyes screwed shut.

“Leonard?”

“I thought I was dead, Y/N,” Leonard said.

You stepped to the side of the bed and gently laid a hand on the side of his face.

“You’re not dead, Lee,” you breathed. “You’re right here.”

“I know,” he mouthed, blinking in place of nodding. “They started firing. I took one to the leg. I went down, I rolled… Rolled right off a damn cliff.”

“You didn’t hit the bottom,” you said.

“No?” he looked up at you, eyes swimming with morphine and worry and relief. “I blacked out when I hit the outcropping.”

“Scotty got you.”

Leonard let out a small puff of air like a laugh.

“So what’s the damage?”

“It’s not good, Lee,” you set yourself gingerly on the side of the bed and stroked his hair with your fingertips. “You hit that cliff face really hard.”

“Am I going to walk again?” he asked, seeming to sense where this was going.

“I’m optimistic,” you nodded. “You broke your spine in two places, snapped your femur clean in half…”

“What about this?” Leonard looked down at his arm, the bandage contouring to the definition of the limb.

“Surprisingly, you didn’t shatter it. Cracked the humerus in two places, nothing serious. You tore the skin right off most of it. We did a graft and we’re giving you periodic treatments with the dermal regenerator. It’ll heal the fastest,” you reached down and touched your fingers to his. “You got a nice bump on the head, but no lasting damage as far as we can tell.”

“Who’s ‘we?’”

“M’Benga’s been keeping an eye on me.”

“So my back…”

“We bridged both points and we’re getting promising readings so far,” you looked down the length of his body, “Can you wiggle your toes for me?”

Leonard sucked in a deep breath and you saw tiny twitching movements under the blanket.

“You might just walk again, McCoy,” you smiled softly at him, tracing your eyes over his face. “How’s the pain?”

“Can’t feel it, just uncomfortable.”

“I wish I could move you,” you stroked his hair again. “Is there anything you want, Lee?”

“I’m not going to be able to get back to work any time soon, am I?”

“Not for a little while. If you’re good and do everything we tell you to we might be able to get you back behind your desk within the month. But you’re sure as hell not doing anything physical for a while, yet.”

His eyes glazed over with tears and he tried blinking them away. He looked down his body and you saw his jaw tighten as he grit his teeth.

“Hey, Lee?” you murmured, standing and leaning over his head.

“Yeah?” he looked up at you with these wide, childlike eyes.

“I need to go talk to Jim, he wanted to know when you woke up.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“I won’t let him in, then,” you dipped your head and waited for his eyes to flutter closed in consent before you touched your lips to his. “And Lee?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for not dying.”

“Anytime,” the corner of his mouth tugged up slightly as you stood up. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Anytime,” you smiled at him as you strode to the door.

“He’s awake?” Kirk greeted you on the other side. You made sure the door was closed before you stepped away from it.

“He’s awake, yeah,” you said, rubbing your face before carding your fingers through your greasy hair.

“Can I see him?” Kirk had wild eyes.

“He’s asked for privacy right now,” you stuffed your hands in your pockets, realizing you left your tricorder in Leonard’s room. “He’s just not up to it yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Kirk nodded, staring pointedly at the ground before looking back up at you. “How bad is he?”

“He’ll live, I have no doubt about that,” you said, ushering Kirk back to the coffee room. “He fractured the spine in two places, but we’ve successfully bridged that. Snapped the femur, but we set and bonded that. We got the bullet out of his thigh. Broke the humerus in two places, we bonded that, and we grafted the skin on his arm and he’s responding well to the regeneration treatments, so I’d say it’s only a matter of time until he’s back to his grouchy self.”

Kirk nodded as you sat across from him at the break table. The nurses were all gone; it was just the two of you in the small space.

“How are you holding up?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“I’ve been better,” you nodded. “I… I really thought I lost him, Jim.”

Kirk reached across the table and you took his hand, leaning your other arm on the table to support your head as you bent over, letting the hours that lead up to this moment catch up to you.

“I thought marrying the CMO was the safe choice,” you breathed into your sleeve.

Kirk just rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“That’s why I did what I did, Jim,” you lifted your head and looked at him through rippling eyes. “I couldn’t let him die.”

“I know,” Kirk said. “And if it comes down to it, I’ll make a case for you. I know no one in this medbay could’ve done a better job, ‘cept the man himself.”

“I couldn’t let him die,” you breathed again. “It’s not that I don’t trust anyone else, it’s just that I… I had to know that if he did… if he did die that everything had been done to prevent it. I had to know.”

“I understand,” Kirk said. “And trust me, it sounds like you did everything right. Would you… would you consider stepping down now? Letting M’Benga take over?”

You nodded.

“It’s just rehab now,” you mumbled.

“Exactly. I don’t want to have to explain more than is necessary.”

“I’m sorry for making this difficult for you.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining, I agree with you. If it’s not Bones working on me, it’s you I want. I mean, he and I have history, but you’re amazing.”

You smirked.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Jim?” you asked, withdrawing your hand and drawing yourself up to full height, rubbing your face again as you yawned.

“Just let me know when he’s ready to see me. I don’t just want to talk to him about the report - that’s the least of my worries - I just want to see him for myself. Make sure he’s alright, you know?”

You nodded and tapped the back of your chair with your palm as you stepped to the door.

“Goodnight, Jim.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor.”

Touching the access panel to Leonard’s room, you waited for the door to slide open quietly before stepping in.

Leonard’s eyes snapped open, readjusting to consciousness.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you smiled, stepping to the computer terminal and grabbing your tricorder. “Left this.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you stood next to the bed, looking down at his swimming eyes.

“Will you stay with me?”

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him again.

“I’m going to go back home and take a shower first, alright? If you need anything, M’Benga’s taking over.”

“You handed me off?”

“It’ll make the reports easier. Jim’s already going to have to make some serious arguments to make up for my role in your case.”

“I guess,” Leonard’s fingers twitched as he thought about moving to touch you. You laid your hand on his instead.

“I’m going to go take a shower and then I’ll come back, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” you bent and kissed his forehead. “Rest.”

--

You woke with Leonard’s fingers laced through yours and his sour breath cascading over your face.

“Morning,” he mumbled as you stirred.

“Morning,” you twisted yourself so you could see his face. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Hell if I know, I’ve been in and out.”

You groaned as you sat up. Your chair was several inches lower than the bed, and now your back had seized up.

“How do you feel?” you croaked, stretching your arms over your head.

“Like I’ve been hit by a transport. You?”

“Like I’ve been hunched over for a couple hours. Has Jim been by yet?”

“No, he’ll probably burst in any minute.”

“Great,” you let your arms fall to your sides. You reached up and laid one hand on his hair and the other on his hand. He wound his fingers through yours and squeezed.

“Thanks for saving me,” he murmured.

“You said that already.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“You’re welcome, my love,” you stood and hovered over him watching his face.

His eyes danced around your face before he let them slide shut and the tendons in his neck tensed. You pressed your lips to his with a soft smile.

When you pulled back Leonard tensed his fingers around yours.

“I love you,” he murmured.

As you opened your mouth to respond, the door opened and Kirk walked in. You sat back in your chair and watched as Kirk’s face changed from his usual pleasant resting expression to one of shock.

“Oh my God, Bones,” he breathed, looking at the bandage on Leonard’s arm that was slowly growing pinker the longer he lay there.

Leonard looked down his body, avoiding watching Jim scrutinize him.

“What’s going on Jim?” you asked, trying to draw his attention away.

“Huh?” Jim looked at you, vacant for a moment before shaking his head. “Right, sorry. I’m here to see you, actually.”

“Is this about..?”

“Yeah. Can we step outside?”

“Jim, whatever you have to say you can say here. I’ll just end up telling Leonard anyway.”

Jim sighed and clasped his hands behind his back.

“You’re up for court martial.”

“Shit,” you hissed.

“Are you kidding me?” Leonard raised his voice, wincing at the pain.

“I’m sorry, I really tried -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off. “I expected this. Can I chose my own JAG lawyer?”

“We’ll have to talk about that privately,” Jim said hesitantly. “I just wanted to let you know right away.”

“Alright. I’ve got someone in mind, anyway.”

“Y/N, I can’t lose you -” Leonard let your fingers go and wrapped his hand around your forearm, gripping like you were about to walk out of the room forever.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you get discharged…” there was a panicked warning note in his voice.

“I’m not leaving you alone out here, alright?” you lowered your voice. “You’re hurting me.”

Leonard relaxed his grip but he didn’t let go.

“I’m not leaving. Remember Asha?”

“Yeah,” his voice was small now.

“She’ll help me. Don’t worry about it, alright?”

“We’ll talk about this in private,” Jim said again, eyeing Leonard’s arm. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit, Jim,” Leonard said, still watching you.

“He’s going to be fine, Jim,” you turned to look at the Captain. “It’s going to take time, but he’s going to be right back to normal. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Jim rubbed his temple. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you later, Bones. Y/N.”

Jim turned on his heel and left.

“Fuck,” Leonard hissed.

“He’s just not used to the roles being reversed: he’s supposed to be where you are on any given day.”

“I don’t care about him right now, what are we going to do?” Leonard started squeezing your arm again, although gently this time.

“Like I said, I’m going to try to get Asha as my lawyer.”

“And then what? You can’t lie and say you didn’t operate on me.”

“No, but I only did it because it was an emergency. I can use that as a defence.”

“It’s a bad defence,” he growled.

“She’s done more with less. She’s had a few of these cases in the past, that’s why I want her. Not because she’s my best friend.”

“I can’t lose you,” Leonard squeezed hard once before relaxing again, wincing with the effort.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” you laid your other hand on his. “We’re going to be fine. I’m not going anywhere. You think I didn’t consider this when I took the reigns? I took a calculated risk, Lee. And you’re going to be okay because I did what I did.”

Leonard opened and closed his mouth several times before looking away.

“I don’t know how to be on this end of it.”

“I know,” you rubbed your thumb back and forth on his hand. “Just relax. Sleep if you can. I’m going to figure out what time it is and I’ll see when your next round of regeneration is gonna be. You’ll feel better after that. Are you hungry?”

“I can’t tell.”

“Alright, I’ll find you something,” you lifted his hand from your arm and set it back on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Leonard nodded and watched as you turned around to leave.

When the door whooshed shut behind you, you leaned back on it, covering your face with your hands.

“You screwed up.”

“I know, Jim.”

“I can get you the lawyer you want,” you felt his hand on your shoulder, “but you’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of you. The Admiralty is pissed.”

“I know,” you let your hands fall to your hips. “Take care of him for me, alright?”

“I will.”

“He’s not in a good place, Jim. He’s scared. When’s the trial?”

“It’s set for two weeks from now.”

“Can we keep this between us for a few days?” you asked, looking up at him. His lips were pursed.

“I can keep it between us for two weeks if you want me to,” Jim squeezed your shoulder.

“He’s just overwhelmed,” you hung your head. “If we can just get some of these injuries off his plate he might feel more up to dealing with… with my mistake.”

“I wouldn’t call it a mistake,” Jim said, “I mean, look at him, he’s alive because of you. It was just one of those decisions. Look, I’m going to be called to testify and I’m gonna do everything I can to -”

“Thanks, Jim,” you said, straightening yourself back up and shrugging his hand off your shoulder. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Not right now.”

“Alright then. My husband needs something to eat and I need a goddamn cup of coffee,” you brushed your uniform straight and strode past Jim to the medbay door.