#I love the stories where the reader just finds the traumatized bot

[jodoesnew]

Would buy them in an instant

[in1-nutshell]

Hello teacher I'm just resending my request cause I remember you said some of the request you get from other followers disappears and I haven't seen the other request that I have send you when your request box was open

So I took the liberty of myself when your request box was open to copy and paste my requests so here they are

1.) Not too sure where this idea came from but I would like request a (our world buddy again) who happens to have a great fatherly like relationship with Prime Verse megatron who ends up meeting IDW Optimus who actually is her adopted dad he has the papers and data pads to prove everything and Prime megatron and his decepticons decided they were gonna fight IDW Optimus for custody of buddy and it ended somewhere along the line of Prime megatron ended up in the medbay completely unconscious and half of his army traumatized after they found out what an how angry a prime who is a father can really get (technically related to my story)

2.) Don't really know what to think for this one but what about IDW Bots meet G1 bots?

3.) Buddy from our world meet team prime and team megatron from cyber verse world? I would love that interaction

Oh and cyber verse starscream got really attached to her to the point he doesn't like sharing her attention which buddy has no problems with cause she knows why he is the way is. And maybe megatron and sound wave got attached too and devised plans to steal her and keep her the nemesis for a little while cause it's not everyday you meet someone who show so much affection

P.S feel free to write these last cause I know you are busy😃✌

This is a pretty big list, so I went with number 2, minus the Cyberverse part. I don't write for Cyberverse as of now.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy from the real world meeting Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP

Buddy was starting to think that maybe the new coffee mixture they had made was really an elixir to travel dimensions.

They didn’t know how hard they hit their head when they saw Wheeljack arguing with Ultra Magnus.

The two bots didn’t even notice the human until they came literally running to Magnus’s pede and hugged him the best they could.

Buddy hugging Magnus’s pede: “If this is a dream I don’t want to wake up!” Magnus nearly jumps feeling the random human hug his pede. Wheeljack looks like he is going to glitch, though he doesn’t know for what reason. Wheeljack: “Hey… umm, kid what are you—” They turned their head so fast Wheeljack was sure that he heard a snap. The human starts running up to him rapidly shaking their fist in excitement: “Wheeljack! I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you! Either that or I may have found the limit of coffee I am allowed to drink.” Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack: “What?” Buddy: “Hey, aren’t you supposed to take me to meet the rest of the team? Isn’t it like, the whole protocol?” Ultra Magnus gives Wheeljack an uneasy look: “You seem to know quite a bit…” Buddy waving their hand: “I’ll explain that later, now, who am I climbing in?!”

When they arrive to the base, they are practically bouncing off the walls.

They are even more excited than when Miko first showed up.

In fact, the new human is excited to meet the kids, Fowler and June just as much as they are excited to meet the bots.

Miko has a taste of her own medicine and feels the need to apologize… someday.

Buddy does calm down when explaining how they know who they are and how they had been through a similar situation like this before.

That leads to more questions, but Buddy refuses to answer them.

Something about ‘Not wanting to mess with the universes’.

Buddy: “Anyways I need to keep you guys from finding out about some spoilers, like Bee’s voice coming back. Team Prime: “WHAT?!” Bumblebee: BEEP!? (MY VOICE?!)” Buddy: “…Rats…”

Optimus does allow Buddy to stay on the base while they wait until they return back home.

Most of the team thinks that another Miko is among them now.

And to a point they are right.

But Buddy also knows when to stop and tries to be useful around the base.

Buddy sweeping the human area. Miko: “This has been the third time you’ve cleaned this place this week. You can leave some stuff around you know?” Buddy still sweeping: “Ratchet finds the mess distracting; I’m just trying to lighten some of the load.” Ratchet, who overhears this now has to rethink his opinion of Buddy.

More respect is earned when they see Buddy football tackle Miko from going into the groundbrigde.

Many hugs are given on what seem like random days.

Those days turn out to be heavier than others and Buddy is always behind the bot ready to hug or do whatever they can to make them feel better.

Smokescreen walks into the base with his doorwings a bit drooped. Buddy running over to him: “Hey Smokes.” Smokescreen puts on a fake smile: “what’s up Buddy?” Buddy patting his pede and giving a genuine smile: “You’re doing great.” Smokescreen just nods because he doesn’t want to cry in front of Optimus. Later… Ratchet still on the main console. Buddy grabbing a blanket and places it nearby. Ratchet: “And what are you doing? You should be in bed.” Buddy: “That’s where you should be too.” Ratchet scoffs and continues working. Buddy: “Don’t think I didn’t see you put back your rations today.” Ratchet stops mid key stroke. Buddy: “I am NOT going to sleep until you get some energon and go to sleep.” Ratchet: “Well then prepare to stay awake for a long time.” Buddy cracking their knuckles: “Bring it! I’ve been awake for 3 days and 3 nights straight during exam week!” Ratchet suddenly worried for Buddy’s health: “…You win this round.” Buddy laughs in sleep deprived.

The bots are wrong to assume that Buddy wouldn’t pull a Miko.

… and now some are considering bringing them out with them.

Buddy fan almost as much as they do with the bots and some cons are now afraid of getting the feral human on them.

But Buddy has also thrown rocks at certain cons out of pure spite.

Buddy throwing some rocks at Breakdown: “SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND JOIN US!” Breakdown looking at the human questioning: “What?” Buddy still chucking rocks: “YOU COULD BE A GREAT AUTOBOT WITH YOUR POTENTIAL! BRING KNOCKOUT TOO!” Knockout: “I think this human lost it.” Buddy: “DO NOT LET YOUR MAN GO OUT HUNTING THAT TRAITOROUS SPIDER!” Arcee: “Finally something we agree on.”

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3161

Summary: Trapped aboard the Lost Light and chosen by a certain red-and-white samurai mech as the perfect sapien companion and tasty snack, you decide to form a rudimentary plan on possibly escaping your robot captors and finding your way back to Earth…while also realizing that spending months living as a pet has messed with your judgment on a greater scale than you previously realized.

This is based off of an ask I saw on Relic’s blog about what might happen if a human trapped aboard the Lost Light tried to escape via an escape pod, and I liked the idea so much that I had to write something based off of it. This is my first time writing for the Tasty Au and the First Contact Au and I must say I am quite happy with the result. This is inspired by Callsign-Relic’s Tasty Au, obviously, and I am so utterly fascinated with the whole concept, as well with First Contact scenarios in general, that this certainly won’t be my last time writing about this sort of thing. Thank you all for reading and thank you to @callsign-relic for giving me permission to write about it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Here is the link to pt. 2!

Sticky globs of synthetic saliva coat your shivering body as you are carefully slipped out of the massive mech’s cerulean mouth. The red-and-white bot nuzzles you gently with his nose, cooing to you in soft alien words. You don’t understand his language; to your ears, he speaks with the purr of a car engine, the rumble of machinery, the smooth hum of something distinctively much, much bigger than you. And yet, after months of being trapped aboard this titanic starship, surrounded by these massive extraterrestrial robots that have turned your life upside down, you’ve come to comprehend some simple, short phrases your mech typically only says to you: Good. Proud. Love you.

  You hate how you lean into his touch. You hate how you cling to these few words you can translate. You hate how your heart softens for him as he sets you down on his desk and begins to clean you up, rubbing his saliva off of you with a towel. You protest softly when he smushes you gently with both hands, struggling feebly before you reluctantly give up and go still. He chuckles deeply and shushes you. “Shhh, shhh….Safe…Safe.”

  After a few minutes, he nods to himself, satisfied with his work. You stare at him with the deadpan look of a cat who was just dumped into a bathtub while he retrieves a fuzzy blanket from his bed and wraps you up in it snugly. The part of you that still clings to your autonomy wants to scream and shove his fingers away when he slowly rubs your scalp. It wants to curse him out and tell him you despise him, how you are traumatized because of him and the rest of his kind.

  And yet, you can’t.

  You know he won’t understand you. You know you’ve developed feelings for him in your weak, pathetic heart. Your bot cares for you. It is obvious in the way he treats you, and you can tell it’s gone beyond seeing you as a pet. He calls you sweet. Little one. He’s never hit you, never yelled at you, and actually respects your boundaries when you express them…sometimes. There are some days where you have clearly shown you don’t want to be eaten. He listens. Those days are few, but they happen regardless. You can’t help but sympathize with him. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it delusion, but you are at war with yourself, one side begging you to resist, the other side wishing to submit and accept the role you have been forced into.

  Your mech scoops you up. For a good minute, he simply holds you, purring deeply while he traces circles against your back with his thumb. It feels good, and you hate that it does. His heavy rumbles are soothing. Despite what one might think, being eaten, massaged by a mechanical stomach for hours, and then regurgitated is an exhausting experience to go through. You find fatigue tugging at the back of your mind while your eyes flutter shut and you yawn.

  The mech coos. “Sleep,” he whispers to you, his voice smooth as honey. “Sleep.”

  If this were your first time, you would have fought it. But it’s not your first time, and you know resisting will get you nowhere closer to escaping. Darkness pulls you into its embrace with the glow of his eyes flickering in the background until it too fades away. It doesn’t take long for you to give in.

  His name is Drift. That’s the first thing you think when you wake up. His name is Drift, and he saved you from the first set of robots that plucked you from your home and carried you off into space, saving you from one personal hell and thrusting you into another. It did not matter if this particular hell was a rather comfortable one. It was hell regardless. To have your sense of self snatched away from you, to be reduced to nothing more than a pet and a snack, to know you are possibly light years away from Earth and you are utterly alone here is enough to drive you insane.

  You sit up slowly and groan, running a hand through your tousled hair. You're still wrapped up in the blanket Drift gave you, and you're resting on his berth. It’s covered with more blankets and even pillows, all courtesy of the mech who has done what he can to make your life here as comfortable as possible. The lights are dimmed. Drift is nowhere to be seen. He must have had some other matters to attend to and decided to give you a moment of solitude while you were resting. It was considerate of him. The sympathetic side of you feels appreciation. All that’s left is relief he is not here to stuff you back into his maw.

  Drift does not understand you. In his eyes, you are simply an adorable little creature he has adopted. He cannot speak your language, and you cannot speak his. No level of displaying your intelligence will ever prove to him that you are worthy of being considered a true person by him or the other mechs. Oh, he cares. You know he does. He’s not a bad guy. You’ve seen bad, and he’s a welcome change from it. But he will never view you as an equal. You are simply just an animal in his mind’s eye.

  Your fists clench with subdued rage without you even realizing it at first. The frustration bubbles up and leaves a foul taste on your tongue. You’ve screamed. You’ve begged. You’ve done everything you can to show them that you do not belong here. But they don’t listen. He doesn't listen. You're too cute, too tasty. For the first time in your life, you truly wish you had it in you to be a violent person and live up to the horrible reputation humans have given themselves on their own planet. Maybe if you had the power to destroy like the rest of your kind can, the mechs would finally learn to respect you. But human beings only destroy what is theirs. And here? Not even you belong to yourself anymore.

  “Damnit,” you whisper under your breath. You haven’t felt this level of helplessness in a long time. Your chest tightens, and hot tears trickle down your cheeks and drip off your chin. You close your eyes and grit your teeth as a low sob heaves up from your throat.

  “I want to go home,” you say to no one in particular. There’s no one to hear you. Even the gods of your world are too far away to listen to your prayers. “Please. Please. I want to go home. I just want to go home.”

  So why don’t you?

  Your eyes fly open.

  Wait.

  There are escape pods on this ship.

  You’ve only seen them once. Drift usually keeps you perched on his shoulder when he travels around the ship and tends to his duties. He’s walked by them before. They’re towards the middle of the vessel, all lined up in single file. 

  What if you were to steal one?

  A plan begins forming in your mind. It’s stupid. It’s risky. It could cost you your life. But you're so scared, and you’ll do anything to relieve that fear. You could return to Earth…you could go home.

  You look around Drift’s room, taking in how absolutely massive everything is compared to you. The escape pods will be the same. One single little human will have a hard time piloting it. But what other choice do you have? Sit here and live the rest of your life as a pet?

  A part of you actually finds it tempting. But you can’t let that side of you win. You cannot allow yourself to slip into the stupor that is slowly breaking your spirit. You must keep fighting. You must take back what was stolen from you: your life.

  Drift is not a stifling owner. He does not demand your attention 24/7. He understands you need your space, and usually, if you protest enough, he will simply coo at you understandingly and leave you in his room for a few hours while he leaves.

  You come up with a plan. It’s not a particularly stable one, and there are way too many points where it could go horribly wrong. But you will go through with it anyway, because you don't know how much longer you can take this. You're desperate for release, frantic for an escape from this nightmare reality you are in. You will find a way back home. You can’t give up. You refuse to give up. You are a human being. You belong on Earth.

  As much as your plan relies on Drift leaving you alone, it also depends on his presence too. It’s impossible to traverse this starship by yourself. To be seen without your mech companion would lead to some robotic stranger scooping you up and bringing you right back to square one.

  So, you will have to trick Drift.

  You will use the advantage of your harmless appearance and have him bring you to the escape pods. You could blast away right under his nose and he won’t even know it because his belief that you are just an innocent, adorable little thing who can barely think for yourself is just too strong.

  Guilt flashes through you.

  He has no way of understanding, a tiny voice whispers inside your mind. It’s not his fault there’s a language barrier between the two of you. He’s trying his best. He’s trying. Can’t you appreciate that?

  He views me as a pet, you think back. He thinks I’m an animal. A snack. Is abandoning my will as a human being worth it if it means I please him?

  Yes.

  The realization makes your heart sink.

  Are you really that far gone? Have you become that accustomed to your life here? Have…have you truly been broken in?

  The soft whoosh of the room door opening interrupts your thoughts. Drift slips in on silent feet; you still don’t know how such a large mechanical creature can move so quietly. He doesn’t look at you, and instead trudges to the mirror attached to the wall opposite his berth with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low. Through the reflection of the mirror, you can see him staring at himself with a complicated expression. His mouth tightens and his hand rises to slowly begin tracing the metal beneath his eyes. You watch, with growing concern, as he just…looks. He’s observing his features, taking in every scar, every dent in his armor, every sign of age.

  He vents out a soft exhale. With a surprising amount of weariness, he takes his swords and places them on their display stand.

  “Drift?” you call out to him.

  He turns to focus on you. His eyes immediately soften, and his grimace uplifts into a tired smile.

  He looks so much older than he really is.

  Your heart twists painfully. All of your previous foul thoughts towards him vanish as your empathy takes over and you raise your arms to make grabby hands at him. This is a language anyone can understand: Pick me up please?

  He wastes no time in obliging. Swords and reflection forgotten, he makes it to you in four long strides. Gentle fingers push the blanket aside and free you from your fabric burrito. They curl around you, holding you in his right palm while he slowly lifts you up and slips his left hand under to support you. You no longer feel the queasy flip of your stomach turning circles from the dizzying experience of watching the floor grow further and further away. That reaction was long lost with your time here.

  He presses you to his chest. The metal is warm, and deep within, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. It thrums through your entire body and causes you to shudder with awe. This is an alien being, one you hardly understand. Yet, he has a heartbeat. It connects the two of you, in a way. As your heart begins to beat in tandem with his, you feel so small. Yet…it helps you feel for him all the more, because it proves he is alive.

  After a few minutes of hugging you, Drift lifts you higher. The soft blue glow of his eyes washes over you as the mech observes your tiny face. There’s a moment when he pauses, and then his thumb caresses your cheek, lightly running over the stains decorating your skin from your previous bout of tears. His smile falls into a concerned frown.

  “Little one?” he whispers. He knows what tears are. You’ve heard him cry himself to sleep some nights. So he must understand you are not in a particularly good headspace right now.

  “Drift,” you whisper back. He whines when he hears how your voice trembles. With great sadness weighing his expression down, he brings you close and presses his lips gently to your forehead.

  You automatically freeze, and your eyes widen in shock as you feel the slightly plush metal against your skin. It’s so…intimate. All too quickly, you melt into the embrace, closing your eyes as a fresh wave of emotion washes over you and threatens to unleash the waterworks again. You sniffle and cling to him. “I hate that I’m enjoying this,” you quietly say.

  He hums in response and slowly pulls away. The smile he offers you is so sweet, it makes your heart skip. You feel like a foolish schoolgirl in love. It’s the wrong emotion for the wrong person in the most wrong scenario you could ever imagine, but it feels so right.

  He leans back in, and you think you are going to receive another kiss. But then his mouth opens wider and you have a full display of the squishy segmented tongue that’s shifting in eager anticipation for the taste it desires: you. Strings of saliva connect between metal teeth as large as your head. Inside, there’s light that softly pulses with the same color as his eyes, and it runs all the way down into his throat, illuminating the journey you know you are about to take. Fear jumps through you. “Drift,” you say, pushing frantically at his fingers. “Drift, wait!”

  “Shhhh,” he murmurs. There are some incomprehensible words that, to your ears, sound like the garbled slurs of a broken radio. Your mind works overtime to comprehend. “Little one…safe…comfort…”

  Oh.

  He wants to comfort you.

  You feel absolutely disgusted with yourself when you bite your bottom lip and contemplate his request.

  Unfortunately, Drift doesn’t give you a chance to decide whether to accept or not. Apparently, your tears are really worrying him. With one last reassuring purr, he delicately pushes you into his mouth. You yelp when his tongue curls around your little body to begin slicking you up for a smoother ride. Drift rolls you around carefully, tasting every inch of your exposed skin with happy hums of pure pleasure.

  You want to fight off the large muscle and demand he open his mouth to release you. However, you know there is no point. He’s not listening to you today. He believes this is the only way to bring you the reprieve you need. So, you give in. You go limp and allow your mech to toy with you.

  He presses you to the roof of his mouth and suckles gently. A low moan rumbles up from within him. You are delicious. You know you are delicious. The way he savors you both terrifies you on a raw, existential level, and also makes you feel…wanted, in a way. He wants you. He cares about you. This is just another way of him showing it.

  Eventually, his tongue lowers, and everything goes tipsy as Drift tilts his head and begins to push you towards the back of his throat. You instinctively scrabble at the base of the biomechanical muscle, but you cannot stop yourself from sliding back. When you look behind you and see the pulsing metal waiting to slurp you down into its dark, wet confines, you want to scream.

  “Glk.”

  One gulp.

  That’s all it took for Drift to swallow you.

  It is extremely unnerving to be reminded of how small you are.

  You are sucked into Drift’s throat with no resistance. The glow of his mouth sticks with you while you are squeezed downward from all sides by the soft, moist walls of his esophagus. You wriggle as much as you can, but it is virtually impossible to move due to how tight the passage is. You find yourself holding your breath as you close your eyes and try to remain calm while you listen to the steady sounds of his internal systems working to keep him alive: the heavy thudding of his heart. A rhythmic intake and outtake of air that is eerily reminiscent of human breathing. There are other low whirrs and hums you cannot identify as well. All consuming. All just for you to hear.

  Space opens up beneath you, and you drop into his stomach with a wet plop. The organ gurgles, welcoming you back like an old friend. You bounce a little as the floor jiggles, then you find yourself sinking into the mesh metal. The walls close in, squeezing you, kneading at you, all while a melody of rumbles and groans fill the space. You pant, taking a moment to catch your breath as you lay on your back and stare up at the soft biolights all around you, filling the stomach with a comforting hue.

  Something presses against you from the outside: Drift’s hand. Above you, the mech says something. His voice is soft, yet loud at the same time. You are utterly, completely surrounded by him. Locked away behind all of this metal, you truly feel like you are his.

  For some reason, this is not as scary as it usually is.

  You sit up and try to wipe saliva off of your face, but only succeed in smearing it all over you even more. Drift speaks again. “Little one?” His tone is urgent, worried. The stomach growls with nervous trepidation.

  You crawl on your hands and knees to the organ’s wall. Sitting up, you press your hand into the wet muscle, watching as your fingers sink into the squishy grooves. “I’m okay, Drift,” you murmur. “I’m okay.”

  You feel him relax all around you. Drift presses his hand right over where yours is and rubs you tenderly. You cuddle up against him and close your eyes, listening to your mech’s happy purrs, enjoying the feeling of being constantly massaged by his stomach.

  It is warm.

  You are warm.

  You no longer want to cry.

  Maybe…maybe you can put off your escape plan. Just for a little longer.

[noisytenant]

I think I've said it before but it's helpful for writers and people in the whole "fanfiction, ya, literary writing" discourse to be knowledgable of the concept of kitsch.

While some snobs decry kitsch as technically and conceptually devoid, it really isn't--it's cruel to devalue an artist's labor simply because you don't think their work "advances the culture" or the viewer's understanding of culture.

Kitsch has a number of definitions, but I'm using it as "art designed to invoke a specific high-power emotion (like melancholy, love, awe, joy) without encouraging analysis of that emotion, just allowing the art to be a space where that emotion lives". It's designed, as much as anything can be designed, for some level of universality. This is why we get so many paintings of cats, of beautiful landscapes--the artists believe that the majority of people will see a landscape and appreciate its beauty, will see a kitten and long to protect it.

Art that affirms our desire to feel something--and offers little more than that validation--isn't shameful, and in many ways it's necessary, but it's also not the kind of art that people spend a lot of time analyzing. Its merits are usually limited to the technicality of the work. One may say, "This romantic fanfiction is really well-written," which is taken to mean "the characters are consistent, the grammar is legible, the prose and language is evocative." In some situations, it means, "This fanfiction added to my understanding of the work it derives from." Rarely does it mean "this fanfiction fundamentally changed something about how I view myself or the world around me"--not to say that fanfiction can't or shouldn't do that!

We can and should critique art, literary or not, if we feel that it inadequately completes its established function. One might say, "I understand that the writer was trying to highlight the cruelty of racism by depicting it head-on, but I think it assumes readers will have the emotional intelligence necessary to hold both the perpetrators' and the victims' experiences in their minds at once and make the antiracist choice at the conclusion of the story. If I were writing this book, I wouldn't make that assumption, and I might replace unresolved graphic scenes with more consequence-focused scenes." One might say, "This erotic fanfiction is designed to sexually excite the reader, but it is depicting a decidedly abusive relationship, and I question the idea that there is anything exciting and not horrifying about that."

You don't have to say that whole mouthful every time you want to tweet complaining about a book you didn't like, but you would at some point want to make it clear through your art or longform criticism how you choose to address these issues.

We can also just say that we don't like something or that we're not personally comfortable allowing it into our lives. One might say, "Depicting brutal acts of racism brings to mind experiences in my own life that are traumatic, and I don't think this work can do what it intends to do for me personally." There's so much art in the world that seeks to do similar things; surely you'll find the works that touch you as long as you keep an open mind.

Artists of a primarily kitsch nature aren't incapable of critical thought, so if YA or fanfiction authors have good-faith critiques of more literary works, we shouldn't snub their criticism simply because they choose to focus on art of a more straightforward nature. However, a lot of the highlighted discussions (which are of course cherry-picked to look as dumb as possible--not maliciously, just naturally, because we remember the things that make us angriest) could be more charitably framed not as "this person is too stupid to understand a complex work!" or "this person's art is worthless, unlike this meaningful work!", but instead as "this person deals in a tradition of art that is popular and longstanding, but very distinct from the literary tradition of art they dislike. both traditions might learn from each other, but ultimately asking one tradition to transmute itself into another is asking for a different work entirely."

The line between kitsch and non-kitsch isn't clear-cut, but it provides a helpful framework for understanding why people seem to misunderstand what a work is designed to do, and how artists will sometimes obfuscate their established goal and tradition in order to avoid criticism.

[atamascolily]

The cover of Junior Jedi Knights #5: Vader's Fortress by Rebecca Moesta features Anakin and Artoo dodging blaster fire while Tahiri does a bad-ass leap and Darth Vader looms in the background. So I guess this next field trip is to wherever the hell Vader's fortress is located... and given that this book was published in 1997, I'm pretty sure it isn't Mustafar.

Readers, I squealed with delight when I realized they were actually going to Bast Castle on Vjun.

[cut for length and discussion of Dark Empire]

Vjun's first appearance was in Dark Empire, but it's the main setting for Sean Stewart's Clone War-era novel Yoda: Dark Rendezvous (2004), which happens to be one of the best Legends books ever. Period. Drop everything and go read it now. Stewart's Vjun is a Dark side Gothic horror wonderland full of crumbling castles, crazed nobility, and flesh-eating moss. I love it, and you will, too.

Vjun also appears in various video games, with no less than Kyle Katarn describing it as "a big, dead, important rock". High praise, indeed.

Oh, and if you're curious, Wookiepeedia says Vjun is "pronounced as "VAH-JUHN" in Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy, but in Star Wars Battlefront: Elite Squadron, it is pronounced as "VUHN"".... so anything goes, really.

Anyway, so having dealt with his heritage by going to Dagobah in the last book, the logical next step is for Anakin to actually go and visit Vader's castle in person. You know, exposure therapy. Right?

Okay, let's see what the text says.

Anakin, Tahiri and Uldir are hanging out on the landing pad on Yavin IV waiting for Tionne to show up. Tahiri loves Tionne so much, she doesn't mind waiting around, and she wishes she could have gone with Tionne on this latest trip to Borgo Prime and I just... I love their relationship, okay?

Tionne has a new ship - the Lore Seeker! Anakin uses the Force to determine it's in great shape despite its odd appearance. (It has sails to harness solar wind, lol!)

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” the Jedi instructor said with a smile. “I thought so, too. But because the ship was so old, I was able to buy it from a Randoni trader for a song.”

“How much did you really pay?” Uldir asked.

Tionne shrugged.

“Just a song. Really. While I was looking for Jedi legends, I came across an ancient song that told about the very firstRan - doni merchants and the vaults where they hid their wealth. The trader was so interested that she offered me the Lore Seeker in exchange for the song. Now come help me unload my cargo, and I’ll show you some of my other treasures.”

DID I MENTION I LOVE HER???

Also, Tionne got some other stuff, too:

“You may carry this Twi’lek story-chain, Tahiri-each link tells a different part of a story. Please be very careful with it. Uldir, here is a holodisk. It holds a recording of some very old Jedi songs. Anakin, would you please carry this scroll? I’ll take the tapestry.”’

AHHHHHH, I LOVE THIS.

But Tionne found out something else important "in an old fortress on a planet called Vjun" and this is where I started SCREAMING because I know exactly where this is going and this is such a great set-up - especially since none of the kids have a clue.

Of course, they want to go, and Tionne's trying to be diplomatic about it.

“Does anyone live in the fortress?” Anakin asked.

Tionne shook her head.

“Not anymore.”

“Well, if it’s really that important, don’t you think you ought to go find it?” Tahiri said. “And don’t forget that you promised to take me with you this time.”

“I’d like to go along, too,” Anakin added.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Uldir said.

Tionne frowned.

“I’m not sure Master Skywalker will approve. It could be a bit dangerous."

LOLOLOLOL, since when has that ever stopped anybody in this series?? But according to Tionne, the danger isn't Sith ghosts or anything like that - it's other people trying to snag a certain treasure first.

And what is this special object? the kids want to know.

Tionne’s face lit with a wondering smile, and she gave a happy sigh.

“It’s Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber!”

ITS A MACGUFFIN! Also, given all of Vader’s issues with Obi-wan, the fact that he kept his old master’s lightsaber in his hidden Gothic Drama Castle is... something. But I digress.

Cut to Luke, being Luke.

Luke Skywalker, dressed in a comfortable black flightsuit, sat on the stone floor in the room where he meditated and did his office work. At the moment, though, Luke was not meditating. Before him in the center of the room stood his barrel-shaped blue and white droid, ArtooDetoo. It was time for Artoo’s routine cleaning. Anakin’s older sister Jaina often helped Luke with this chore, but the Jedi Master didn’t mind doing it himself. He actually found it relaxing. With his tools neatly laid out on the floor and fresh packets of lubricant beside him, Master Skywalker opened ArtooDetoo’s front panels and got to work.

After checking the droid’s numerous electrical connections, Luke added a few gadgets and upgrades Jaina had scrounged up for Artoo: a retractable mirror attachment, a power booster for the comm unit, and a new focusing lens for the hologram projector.

I'm sure NONE of these upgrades will come in handy later on in the book. Nope. Nope. Nope. Move along, nothing to see here, just a boy and his bro-bot.

Ikrit is hanging out on top of Artoo's head during all of this, when there's a knock at the door. Luke asks him to open the door and Ikrit DOES and I don't know why I find this so adorable, but I totally do. More of this, please.

Luke looked up from the packet of slippery lubricant he held in his hand, then smiled when he saw who his visitors were.

“Come in,” he said, “all of you.”

His words seemed to open an invisible dam, because people and noises instantly flooded into his quiet room. Luke laughed as everyone tried to talk to him at once.

“Master Skywalker, I have wonderful news,” Tionne said. “You’ll never guess in a million years,” Tahiri added.

“Can I go with them?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah, me too!” Uldir said.

News of Obi-wan's lightsaber makes Luke have all kinds of Feels (and a handy flashback for those who have forgotten the movies). Luke's like, Oh, yeah, Bast Castle, I've been there before back in Dark Empire when things got weird, and Anakin FREAKS OUT. Tionne's like, huh, maybe that's why my contact said only family had a right to claim the lightsaber then.

Tionne wants Luke to come with her, but Luke is meeting with Leia for pressing NR business, so Anakin volunteers to go as the family rep. I love that Luke looks at Ikrit first, and only says okay when Ikrit nods. Of course Uldir wants to come too, and Luke is about to say no, but Tionne's like "he's just going to stow away, so you might as well and the cargo hold on my ship is too small for him plus our stuff" so Luke caves. DID I MENTION HE'S A SOFTIE?? And with Artoo and Ikrit to help, Luke feels good about it, but again, he insists on the parental permission first.

[Oh, no, I just realized that Luke might not want to go back to Vjun after all the traumatic shit that went down in Dark Empire, and that's ALSO horrifying to contemplate. Like, it's not dangerous anymore, so he's okay with sending Anakin there with supervision, but he might not be eager to re-visit it? MY HEART.]

We skip that scene, though, and jump immediately to everyone in the Lore Seeker, and Tionne teaches them about lightsabers. Nomi Sunrider is namedropped (queen!) but overall lightsabers are reified, and I don't know how I feel about that tbh, even though they are admittedly SUPER COOL LASER SWORDS BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.

Fortunately, Ikrit's there to say "Not All Jedi," since I am not, which catches Tionne off guard, since she didn't know he was a Jedi master. Tionne is apologetic about treating Ikrit like a pet, but Uldir continues to be a jerk, especially when Ikrit starts sharing his own personal trauma. And then Ikrit declaims about Anakin and Tahiri's powers, but graciously includes Uldir once Uldir pokes him about it.

The skies of Vjun are stormy, so it's a bumpy ride down. They land outside the castle instead of on the landing pad at the top because the weather is so awful. Anakin did his homework, and explains the situation (Dark Empire recap!):

“Did Uncle Luke tell you anything about the fortress itself?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t know much about it.”

“Well, I found out as much as I could before we left. Apparently Vader built Bast Castle as one of his private strongholds; he was a powerful man. After both he and Emperor Palpatine died, some of the Emperor’s followers brought a copy of Palpatine’s body here-a clone. This second Emperor was defeated too. Since then, the fortress has been abandoned, as far as we know.”

“I still don’t get it,” Uldir said to Anakin. “Why would your grandfather choose to build in such a desolate place?”

Oh, you sweet summer child.

They spy another shuttle, and Tahiri is forced to wear shoes again so they can climb up in the rain. It's basically the Stairs of Minas Morgul from LOTR, only the rain is turning to sleet. Artoo hates stairs and Ikrit rescues him when he falls off - but he can hack the door open, so that's good. The hall has a giant, larger-than-life statue of Darth Vader toppled over on the floor, because... drama.

Then the laser fire starts, and everybody ducks for cover. Artoo uses his newly-installed reviewed mirror to deflect the laster bolts, so they can disarm the automatic security system. Tionne steps in with her lightsaber when Artoo gets shot, and she and Ikrit start tossing random objects to block them while the kids race for the control panels and it's epic. The statue explodes and Artoo manages to hack the system right before he powers down.

Uldir clapped one hand down on Anakin’s shoulder. “Not half bad for a kid,” he said.

Quiet, you condescending fuck. Yes, I know, he's like 14, but he's still obnoxious as hell here.

Anyway, they repair Artoo, except he can't climb any more stairs (I'm so confused how he did it earlier, but okay), and they debate whether to split the party. The smart answer is always "No," but they eventually do anyway, because plot. Tahiri's just happy not to wear shoes. You'll be happy to know that the bathrooms still work. This whole thing feels like an RPG dungeon crawl and I'm HERE FOR IT.

Tahiri notices the floor's texture shifts and that turns out to be a clue and I LOVE THIS. There's a secret pit trap full of spkes, and then suddenly they're attacked by monsters. But eventually, the others find them and deduce that they're holograms. Anakin IDs himself to a door and it opens into a secret chamber... and then this happens:

At the same moment, a puff of smoke erupted in the doorway, and a dark-haired man with a neat beard, tawny eyes, and a deep purple cloak stood before them. The man threw back his head and laughed, although Anakin couldn’t see what was so funny.

“The powerful Mage of Exis Station thanks you,” he said. “I would never have found the lightsaber without your help.” He snatched the weapon from Tionne’s hand. “But I’ll take it now.”

Tahiri starts pestering this guy with questions and he is startled enough to admit he's the Mighty Orloc. Tahiri realizes he's a stage magician, but even so, he manages to open a trapdoor, sending Tionne and Ikrit elsewhere. The kids rush him, but there's smoke and when it clears, Orloc has vanished.

Ikrit and Tionne are fine, and they start looking to rejoin the kids, who are searching for them and/or Orloc. Artoo and Uldir take a tunnel while Tahiri and Anakin go up stairs. Everyone keeps tossing the stale Imperial ration bars they picked up earlier to test for traps, and the RP gamer  in me approves.

“What’s this?” Tahiri asked, pointing to a raised platform that held a huge tube made of black plasteel. Wires and hoses snaked out from the cylinder in all directions. She ran a hand along its smooth side and found some sort of control panel.

“This looks like the tubes they use to bury dead people in space,” Anakin said.

It's actually Vader's bedroom! They find a little hidden hologram of a young Luke and I just... can't even...

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The little hologram of a young Luke Skywalker turned in a slow circle, so that they could see it from every angle.

...Anakin felt a lump form in his throat. “My mom keeps holograms of me and Jacen and Jaina on her desk at work, and Dad has one of me and the twins in the Millennium Falcon. I think Darth Vader was just doing the same thing.”

“So maybe he wasn’t all bad,” Tahiri said in a soft voice.

Anakin starts to feel better about coming to Bast Castle, which is good, because he has Deep-Seated Issues that need to be resolved.

Meanwhile, Uldir sees the lightsaber as a magical talisman that will help him become a Jedi. He abandons Artoo and confronts Orloc, who draws the blade on him. Orloc offers to teach Uldir his powers if he'll come with him. Orloc's looking for the Holocron in Vader's private quarters, and Uldir is tempted, but ultimately turns him down because he realizes Orloc is a fraud.

Anakin and Tahiri find Orloc and Uldir and Tahiri slides down a pole to confront him. Orloc attacks her with the lightsaber. Tionne and Ikrit show up, and Artoo uses a high-frequency blast to distract Orloc long enough for Ikrit to yank the lightsaber with the Force. Orloc disappears, and Uldir mentions the Holocron in Vader's private quarters. So Anakin and Tahiri take them back there.

Tionne's like, let's GTFO, but Uldir suggests they test it, which is a mistake, but Tionne agrees. OF COURSE Orloc comes back and snags it. They chase Orloc through the castle, and there's a lot of trap door shenanigans, but ultimately Artoo helps save the day and they get the holocron back, even though Orloc conveniently escapes.

(Maybe I've been watching too much Scooby-Doo, but I honestly expected Orloc to say "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your talking [lagomorph]!" ...maybe in the next book?)

Ikrit suggests they use the ships in the hangar to fly down to the Lore Seeker instead of walking. Anakin suggests Ikrit keeps the ship, since he seems to enjoy piloting, and I don't know how Ikrit is piloting this thing since he's a lagomorph, but it makes him happy, and they all make it back to Yavin in two ships without incident, which means it's time for the inspirational moral!

“It feels good to be back,” he said with a sigh. Tahiri giggled. “That was certainly more of an adventure than I had bargained for.”

Tionne looked at her two students.

“Are you sorry you came with me?”

Anakin shook his head.

“The trip was worth making. I learned some interesting things about Darth Vader.”

“I learned to trust the Force and not just my eyes and ears,” Tahiri said.

“And we did find a lightsaber and a Holocron,” Anakin said.

“And a new ship for Ikrit,” Tahiri added. “So I think we’re glad we came along, but it may be a while before we go looking for adventures again.”

HAHAHAHA, right, kids. You just keep thinking that.

Ikrit names his ship the Sunrider after Nomi Sunrider, because he, too, stans a legend. Anakin and Tahiri ask if they can take the turbolift up to the Great Temple when Luke starts walking up the outside stairs, and Luke has NO IDEA WHY THEY HATE STAIRS, and... on that note, the book ends, with Luke being VERY confused. [I like that Moesta remembers the Great Temple has outside stairs, but... THE LAYOUT STILL MAKES NO SENSE!!!]

So, I don't know how to feel about this book. PROS: I love the character details with Luke, Ikrit, Tionne and Tahiri, and I like how all of the adults continue to be responsible while still allowing opportunities for the children to be competent and show initiative. It's great to see Bast Castle, and the whole thing has the feel of a classic RPG dungeon crawl. Yay for Artoo saving the day ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS, lol.

CONS: Uldir is annoying, and I wish he'd stop being such a jerk. None of the characters have ever played RPGs and it shows in their lack of genre-savvy. And I guess we'll see Orloc again in the next book, because... it feels like there wasn't much resolution of that particular plot in this book... no resolution to who Orloc actually is, or what or why. I feel like this book is part one of a two-episode plot, and I wasn't expecting that, but okay.

It's unclear if Obi-wan's lightsaber has any further plot significance or if it's just a macguffin. Ditto the holocron. But given the next book is Kenobi's Blade, I suspect Orloc's going to try and snag both, and Uldir is going to have a Not-So-Secret Test of Character about it. (To be fair, he passed the one in this book, so he's not all bad, but he's so obnoxious, it's challenging for me to give him credit where it's due.)

This book also kinda sorta falls into the "Jedi lightsaber fetish" trope, which I hate. Don't get me wrong, I love the laser swords and they are freaking awesome, but I hate how everybody latches onto "Jedi = laser sword" business as a symbol of identity. I know, I know, Star Wars is really ambivalent about whether the Jedi are Space!Samurai or Space!Monks, and I just... lean more towards the latter than the former, I guess?? But like I said, the lightsaber is more of a macguffin here, and Ikrit at least lampshades the issue a little bit, so I feel better about it.  

Also, it just occurred to me it's unclear whether Tahiri hates shoes, sand, or stairs more, lol.

[lovelybuccky]

Three Things That Are Certain (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your mother once taught you that when you feel afraid, you should look at your surroundings and find at least three things that are certain, just three things that you know to be true. However, a collection of photos are found from different points in history, and you are in every single one. Questions are being raised, and you are finding it more and more difficult to name those three things. But he is there to remind you of what they are.

Warnings: Violence, profanity, graphic violence and descriptions of pain in later chapters.

A/N: It’s back! It feels like ages since I wrote chapter 2, even though it was only a week ago haha. It’s also just past 1am here in the UK and I’m sick so sorry if this is a little rusty!

Previous Chapter

(^^ gif by the lovely @chasecollins)

It was cold. So fucking cold. You could barley tell where your leg ended and foot began. The cold bit at your skin, causing prickling chills as they dragged you to the lab. You used to fight back, kicking and screaming to escape their grip, but eventually your voice grew hoarse, and you were just too tired. So you stopped fighting back, your desire for life starting to fade and crack with every step towards that room. It just wasn’t worth the fight anymore.

This trip was different though. This time, you saw them.

Four of them were sat waiting, and one was fighting the Soldier.

It was almost like a dance — the Danse Macabre. One step forward, swing, one step back. One step left, kick, two steps right. The fight was soon over, although the Soldier looked as though he had been fighting for hours before being thrown into the plastic screen between you. Your heart clenched as he forced himself back up, feeling every ache and pain in his bones as if they were your own. It hurt being dragged through hell, but it stung a little more watching others being dragged down with you.

You reached the doors to the lab, but before you could enter, it all kicked off.

The other soldiers started attacking the guards and scientists, pummelling them to the ground. One grabbed the Soldier, and with a gun to his head he commanded him to get them out. He obeyed.

And that’s when he reached you.

Slamming the gate shut he turned around, and you were suddenly face-to-face with the world’s deadliest assassin. But you weren’t afraid, not even the slightest. You searched his eyes for any trace of human behind them, any cracks in the Soldier that allowed the man he was before to leak through. But only ice stared back.

So he didn’t recognise you, but you weren’t even surprised. You don’t know why you hoped he would, you learned that hope was just an instrument for disappointment, and Hydra was a virtuoso.

He had turned away from you now, facing the guards. You used to tremble at the sight of guns, but you had hardly noticed the guards raise theirs at the Soldier, clearly preparing for him to strike at them like the others had. However what you did notice was the slight raise of the Soldier’s arm; it was subtle, but it was almost like he was ready to shield you. Was he…protecting you?

Maybe he did recognise you after all. Maybe you were being silly.

***

You take a sip of your coffee once you finish the story. Bucky stays silent, obviously digesting everything you said. After a few moments he nods, although he doesn't look at you and you’re pretty sure you saw his jaw clench. Maybe it was too soon to mention this, even if you had met the Winter Soldier before you had only just met Bucky. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move to be like ‘Hey! I know we just met but I knew you in your darkest times when you were a brainwashed murder bot ha ha it was probably extremely traumatic for you and me bringing it up is probably making you feel on edge but it’s nice to see you again!’. Idiot.

He’s looking you now, clearly cautious about his reply. He ponders for a second before clearing his throat, “Did we…was this the only time we met?”

You stare back at him, and speaking only with your eyes you communicate to him that neither of you were in the the right state to address anything more about the past, at least not right now. He evidently understood, as he finally broke the connection to take a swig of his own coffee. There's a beat of silence before he speaks up again, “So, what’s you favourite colour?”

***

About 45 minutes has passed, and Bucky has learned your favourite colour, animal, subject in school, and what you wanted to be when you grew up, with intricately thought out reasons to back up each answer. Sure, they aren’t important questions, but he wants to keep the conversation light and easy. You are scared, uncertain and, quite frankly, emotionally exhausted. You had tried your best to hide it, and it might have gone unnoticed by the others but he saw right through it. He understands your anxiety better than anyone, and with every question he can see your shoulders drop a little more, your leg jiggle a little less, and you are making eye contact with him, the rim of your coffee cup becoming less interesting to you than it was before. You are starting to relax, and Bucky considers his mission accomplished.

Until Stark walks in.

“Ah! I see Marty McFly has met the Tin-Man.”

“What do you want, Stark?” Bucky growls.

Tony smirks, making himself a coffee. “I bear good news. I’ve been doing some research and it seems that the dates on these photographs aren’t associated with any major crimes or disasters, so you’re all clear for now.”

Bucky hears a quiet breath escape your mouth, one you had clearly been holding from the second Tony walked in.

“However,” he continues, “we will still need to question you, and Bruce will still need to perform some tests on you.”

You tense at the word choice, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. He stands a little straighter, “Thanks, Stark. Anything else?”

“Nope,” he grabs his mug, “that’s all. If you need me I’ll be in my lab.”

He’s gone without another word. You turn back to Bucky with a relieved sigh, “Is he always working this late?”

“Not as much anymore, only when he can’t sleep or there’s still something to solve. He doesn’t like loose ends.”

You nod, sliding off your chair and cleaning away your mug, “I should probably at least try and get some sleep, I think I might have a busy day tomorrow.”

You chuckle, but Bucky sees you picking at the skin around your nails. He leans on the counter, so his eyes are level with yours and speaks lowly, “Hey, Banner’s a softy, he won’t do anything that would harm you and he’ll talk you through everything before he starts. And I’ll be there, so if it gets overwhelming you just give me a look and we can have a time-out, okay?”

You watch him carefully as he speaks, a little surprised. This isn’t the dark, brooding guy you caught looking at you in the living room a few hours before, and this certainly isn't the soldier you met all those years ago. He seems so much more…gentle here, not in a condescending way, he just seems to pick up on your nerves and wants to reassure you. You feel oddly safe around him, despite the circumstances. You nod with a soft “Thank you.”

You go to leave the kitchen, but hover for a second in the doorway. You turn back to him, a small but genuine smile on your face, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

He smiles back at you, “G’night, Y/N.”

Your smile grows wider as you leave, and something about it makes his chest bubble and warmth flow through his veins.

Well that’s new.

It’s probably just the hour, he thinks to himself - he always gets emotional in the early hours of the morning. But your smile is still ingrained in his head when he crawls back into bed.

How odd.

***

Next Chapter // Masterlist

A/N: Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

[rebeccaheyman]

reading + listening 9.29.20

It was another week of soaring highs and middling mediocrity, but fortunately no DNFs. Notably, I’ve been dragging my heels on PIRANESI by Susanna Clarke, which has been sitting on my desk in gorgeous hard cover since release day. You ever want to love a book so much that you’re afraid to actually read it? No, no, me neither. Here’s hoping I get brave this week. In the meantime...

It’s Been a Pleasure, Noni Blake (Claire Christian), eBook ARC (US pub date February 2021). I loved this book so much that I’m already looking forward to owning the aBook once it’s available, just so I can relive the magic in a new way. Here’s my five-star NetGalley review: 

I have discovered the antidote to the unmitigated disaster that is the year 2020, and it is IT'S BEEN A PLEASURE, NONI BLAKE. I inhaled this book in under 24 hours and feel soul-satisfied in a way I forgot existed. NONI BLAKE is a rom-com that's so much more than a rom-com; it's as much a character study as LESS and as much a travelogue as WILD, with the sweetness of Mhairi MacFarlane, the delicious heat of Sally Thorne, and the humor of every best friend you've ever gotten drunk with. It is, in a word, perfect.

When I say this book has it all, I am not kidding. In it, you will find: - an average-bodied woman finding sexual empowerment and body positivity - a Scottish book boyfriend for whom you do not need to travel through time - healthy adult friendships - A+ Bechdel Test score - adventurous, consensual sex that is at times hilarious and at other times really, really hot - situational comedy that will legitimately make you laugh out loud - adults who talk openly about their feelings in an authentic, mature way - portrayals of grief that range in severity from mourning the loss of an unborn child to coming to terms with years of self-criticism and negativity - rich, descriptive prose that does not drag down pacing - excellent plotting, perfectly balanced with the protagonist's complex internal journey

...the list goes on. This book is joy exemplified. I can't wait to give it to every woman I know. My only complaint is that the world needs this book immediately to inoculate us against the tidal wave of awfulness bombarding the globe, and yet it won't be released until 2021.

Notably, Australian readers have access to NONI BLAKE as of... today (!), so if you happen to be reading this in Australia, please do yourself a favor and buy this book immediately. And if there’s someone you especially like elsewhere in the world, maybe box up a copy and spread the love.

Act Your Age, Eve Brown (Talia Hibbert), eBook ARC (pub date March 2021). I know, I know -- how many contemporary romcoms with the exact same title structure can I read in a single week? Real answer: 2. But based on how fabulous both these titles were, I’m open to more. Here’s my four-star NetGalley review:

I've decided it's entirely impossible to read the Brown Sisters series without feeling amazing. Hibbert's writing is so smart, funny, and full of A+ banter -- not to mention scorching-hot heat -- that it almost feels like we don't deserve her books' nuances, diverse representations, and patriarchy-shaking feminism.

But we do deserve it, actually, and it's all there in ACT YOUR AGE, EVE BROWN.

If at first Eve seems flighty and difficult to connect with, don't discount the intentionality of her characterization. In a tidy narrative trick, Hibbert gives us the very experience that defines many of Eve's friendships: while the youngest Brown sister may have made a great first impression in Chloe and Dani's books, her flightiness feels off-putting once she takes center stage. But sticking with Eve -- instead of pushing her to the margins of our two-person social circle -- has a massive pay-off, as she soon reveals herself to be intensely focused on helping others, spreading joy, and baking delicious cake. It's a side of Eve too many of her "friends" never get to see -- but Reader, we do. And it turns out, Eve is a wonder.

Many of Eve's quirks align with behaviors on the autism spectrum; while Jacob's autistic presentation is perhaps more conventional, Eve's traits are equally validated by Hibbert's sensitive, nuanced treatment of the disorder. Romance + autism usually means antisocial behaviors, rigidity, and/or Asperger's-like presentation (The Kiss Quotient/Bride Test, The Girl He Used to Know, The Rosie Project... the list goes on). But ACT YOUR AGE explores the all important "spectrum" side of "autism spectrum disorder," and urges us to resist believing we understand what these labels mean just because we understand one small aspect of a very large picture.

All of this happens while a truly compelling, heart-melting romance unfolds. Eve and Jacob are incredibly fun to watch, and Hibbert keeps things moving at a lovely clip. I especially appreciated her resistance to the "h/h have to spend totally unnecessary time apart after an argument/misunderstanding" trope in Act III, which is a convention I would happily see go the way of the dinosaur.

Fair warning to your TBR pile: If you don't reread Chloe and Dani's books prior to picking up ACT YOUR AGE, EVE BROWN, you're going to want to afterward. There's simply no other way to maintain the rosy glow of post-Hibbert reading.

Finally, I'm predicting here and now that Mont, Alex and Tess are the next sibling trio to get the Hibbert treatment. (Please? Like...PLEASE please?)

Set My Heart to Five (Simon Stephenson), aBook (narr. Christopher Ragland, Rachael Louise Miller, Lance C. Fuller). If you combined the signature humor/love combo of David Nicholls, the deeply felt nostalgia of Ready Player One, and the bots-with-feelings hypothesis of Spielburg’s AI, you might come close to understanding what makes SET MY HEART TO FIVE so good. In the year 2054, the world has taken some unexpected turns: humans have accidentally locked themselves out of the internet, Elon Musk blew up the moon (also accidentally), and humanoid bots have been integrated into society as second-class pseudo-citizens. We meet Jared -- bot, dentist, cat-owner -- who has begun to experience curious malfunctions. With a friend’s help, and a heaping dose of old movies, Jared realizes he can feel real emotions. He resolves to journey west to Hollywood, where he’ll write a movie that changes the way humans view bots and paves the way for his bot brothers and sisters to enjoy the full range of human experience. 

Jared’s explanations of human behavior provide a satirical commentary on our curious, often contradictory behaviors (”Humans. I cannot!”). Since films from the pre-bot age figure so prominently in Jared’s emotional awakening, that same satirical analysis is applied to movie synopses, which are rendered with necessary frequency but occasionally feel like overkill. The book relies heavily on a lovely trick of narrative reciprocity; Jared is on an archetypal hero’s journey, even as he strives to write a formulaic screenplay according to the “golden rules” of the fictitious script expert, R.P. McWilliams. But SET MY HEART TO FIVE never feels hackneyed, and in more than one way proves the rule that great stories are all in the telling.

With the innocence and clarity that can only come from being something of a stranger in a strange land, Jared embraces his existence with infectious enthusiasm and charm. It’s virtually impossible not to cheer for his success, even as we’re warned again and again that a great story will “eff us in the heart” at its conclusion. Audio is brilliantly narrated by Christopher Ragland, who manages to imbue the bot cadence we expect with believable nuance and big style. 

Well Played (Jen DeLuca), aBook (narr. Brittany Pressley). I’ve got bad news for fans of WELL MET: If you wondered whether your enjoyment of Deluca’s ren-faire romcom debut of 2019 was due in large part to the book’s setting -- and more specifically, the way h/h’s interactions at the faire advanced the storyline -- the answer is yes. And why is that bad news, you ask? Well, because WELL PLAYED has none of the crackling Emily/Simon tension that carried the first book through its narrative stumbles. In book 2, the glacially slow Act I relies heavily on Stacy’s recitation of what makes her life humdrum, and a long series of email exchanges we *know* are coming from the conspicuously introduced Daniel -- even though Stacy, apparently suffering a traumatic brain injury, convinces herself it’s idiot playboy (and Daniel’s cousin) Dex. Sorry not sorry for the “spoiler,” which is impossible not to see coming from many miles away. Once this pseudo-conflict is resolved, the book boils down to situational fluff: a wedding, a squeaky mattress, the literal number of pumpkin spice lattes Stacy drinks over the course of a month. If it sounds like this is not a plot, that’s because it isn’t. The romance is low-stakes, the “uncrossable divide” that eventually separates h/h is the width and depth of a puddle, and the last third of the book is pretty much solely devoted to setting up a Mitch/April romance in book 3.

Notably, I found references to Stacy’s body-consciousness extremely strange. If we want to normalize average-sized women in romance, maybe we do that by not including, apropos of literally nothing, how “unflattering” woman-on-top sexual positions are?! Stacy is not characterized by self-consciousness, so the moments when her interiority veers toward self-criticism don’t feel necessary. I’m not saying these aren’t authentic thoughts and feelings plenty of women have, but an editor should have pushed DeLuca to answer the question to what end? Why include body hyperawareness in the precise moments when it appears? Like too much of the prose in WELL PLAYED, these inclusions felt like word-count boosting instead of dynamic character development or plot production. Sad as I am to say it, this book was a missed opportunity that shows the danger of rushing book 2 to market. 

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics (Olivia Waite), aBook (narr. Morag Sims). This book has been on my radar since its publication last summer. Gorgeous cover aside, I’m always here for diverse historical romance. Sadly, for me, the external stakes here were simply too low, and relied overmuch on the baffling revelation that men -- especially in this historical moment --  underestimate and undermine women. I never felt discernible chemistry between Lucy and Catherine. This could be due, in part, to Morag Sims’ narration, which pitches Catherine’s voice in a low, husky range that accentuated the women’s age difference. From the outset, we learn that Catherine is the widow of one of Lucy’s father’s colleagues; while Lucy is the more sexually forward woman in this partnership, there’s something a little An Education about the whole arrangement. 

On my radar this week:

Piranesi (Susanna Clarke) 

A Deadly Education aBook (Naomi Novik)

We Can Only Save Ourselves ARC (Alison Wisdom)

Angel in a Devil’s Arms (Julie Anne Long)

The Project ARC (Courtney Summers)

The Love Square ARC (Laura Jane Williams)