#Plenty to take voyage for and he's got a lot more travels to go

[captainkurosolaire]

The Captain is such a delight. I love seeing the care and work you put into each piece that graces our dashes. Here's to more of the delightful Captain Kuro!

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.

[delimeful]

Builder

new minecraft AU update! this one jumps between the past & the present! 

warnings: zombies, injury mention

-

Patton found the old house on a cloudy day.

He was still hit with the urge to roam, every once in a while, and while Logan’s home rested on the edge of a swamp, there were green, rolling hills to the southwest that were lovely to wander in.

Logan normally escorted him, as an extra pair of eyes with a helpful cat familiar to prevent any creepers from creeping up on him, but today he had been immersed in his potions. He’d found a new enchanted spellbook while out on a voyage, and was practically bursting with ideas upon his return.

Patton had smiled and left him to it, waving off any concerns with a promise to be extra careful and come back home if he started feeling sunsick.

He hadn’t meant to amble so far off course, but he’d seen a beehive, and where there were bees, there were flowers!

Spurred on by the idea of a flower crown for his friend, he’d found himself farther westward than he’d ever gone before. The hills turned to a taiga landscape, and between those towering birches was the house.

It looked uninhabitable, the wood rotted and the roof collapsed, but something about it called Patton closer, and so he pushed aside the remains of the front door and walked inside.

The stairs were ruined, barring any entry to the upper level of the house. Any furniture that had once stood tall was now utterly destroyed by years of exposure to the elements. He stepped carefully, ducking past cobwebs and listening to each creaky step.

Finally, he reached the back corner, and stopped, turning his head this way and that until the dull glint of metal caught his eye, half-hidden behind a dusty bedframe.

He crouched next to the iron hatch, and with only the barest moment of hesitation, pulled it open.

Daylight spilled into the basement below, and he caught a glimpse of clouded eyes set in a rotting face before the zombie backed up out of the light with a groan. Patton stumbled back with a yelp, falling on his back, and then crawled forwards and slammed the latch shut.

There was no protest from the creature below, and he left the house at a sprint.

-

Logan had followed him back out to the house based on nothing but Patton’s panicked ramblings alone, and his brow had grown more and more furrowed as they reached the house, ventured inside, and re-opened that hatch.

“I passed this house many times,” he spoke slowly, voice pained, “and all this time, someone had been down here?”

Patton leaned in, hands shaking as his eyes adjusted to the dark. “There’s two of them,” he corrected softly, and then stood back up in time to watch Logan hurry out of the dilapidated building.

It was guilt that his anger stemmed from, and Patton gave him some time before following, ignoring the bubbling remains of a shattered potion on the ground to pull his friend into a long hug.

“Could you help them?” he asked, once Logan’s witch mark had ceased its glowing, and his fists were no longer white-knuckled. “The way you helped me?”

Logan had been looking at him with that helplessly surprised stare, the one that always appeared when Patton witnessed his supernatural ‘fits’ firsthand and stayed anyway.

At the question, his expression went firm. “We’re going to try.”

-

The next few weeks were a rush of planning, harvesting, and brewing.

Patton hadn’t been sure he would be much of a help at all, but Logan had an unending list of tasks that he was working through, and a surprising amount were simple enough that Patton could manage them himself, like scavenging for certain ingredients or preparing others in a certain manner.

Eventually, he even began his own little garden, where he planted the ingredients more commonly needed for most of Logan’s potions.

Other tasks weren’t so easy.

Gold couldn’t be grown, for example, and their luck in mines varied from day to day. Some of the ingredients were only found in the Nether, and while Logan had traversed it enough to be familiar, it was still a dangerous place.

Logan had once returned home with a crossbow bolt lodged in his shoulder, having survived the trek back by leaving the bolt in and drinking a potion of healing anyways. They'd had to reopen the wound to get it out, and Patton had insisted on waiting by the portal for every venture after, just in case something like that happened again.

Still, bit by bit they worked, until Logan had a refined version of the cure he’d created for Patton.

Applying the cure didn’t actually take that long, though Logan expressed his frustration with how difficult it was to maneuver young zombies. Apparently older zombies-- the ones that were more bone than flesh, the ones that didn’t flinch away from pain, the ones that no potion could cure-- were much easier to lead. More predictable after the last traces of humanity faded from their minds.

Regardless, Patton’s very talented friend managed to separate and enclose the two of them in cells on his own, refusing Patton's assistance to avoid adding an extra person to the mix and complicating everything. He did allow Patton to help him with the actual curing, and how strange it was, to be on the other end of the process this time.

The potion & golden apple combination went over without a hitch, and Patton didn't think he'd ever slept as deeply as he did the night after those hard weeks of work. With the former zombies now laying tucked into their own beds, healing more by the day, Logan and Patton were left to wait in anxious anticipation.

Luckily, they had plenty to do to occupy their time! The new residents would need a place to stay, after all, and though Logan’s home was cozy, it wasn’t large enough to fit additions. Patton had originally wanted to build a neighboring house right next door, but Logan had suggested they build it closer to the decrepit house, just in case these strangers wanted some space to themselves after their ordeal.

Patton had a sneaking suspicion that the suggestion was also in case the others reacted badly to Logan's witch status, but he didn’t call his housemate out on it. He was nervous about meeting these new people too, after all. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to spend much time with anyone but Logan since regaining consciousness, and sometimes it all seemed like too much.

Now though, building this place with the breeze at his back and Logan at his side, he felt as though he could take on all the muchness in the world.

He set another wooden beam in place, stepping back to smile at how close they were to finishing the house. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it had taken a lot of hard work, and Patton had a good feeling about it.

New beginnings didn’t come around every day, after all.

-

Patton smiled nostalgically at the house in the distance, the one at the heart of the village that he had built together with Logan all that time ago.

It was amazing how much the village had grown, one new home at a time, occupied mostly by former zombies at first, and then the occasional traveler settling down, and eventually a few kids running about. It had become a thriving community, and Patton never stopped feeling proud of all the work that everyone had put in to keep it safe and welcoming.

There was a curious little ‘vrrp’ from behind him, and Patton turned away from the half-finished wall to see Anxiety shuffling in place, avoiding the gaps in the floor that hadn’t yet been patched.

“Just lost in thought!” he reassured the enderman, reaching out slowly and patting his friend’s arm, giving him plenty of time to scoot away if he wasn’t feeling up to touch today. Anxiety held still, fingers curling around Patton’s hand in turn.

After a moment of this, he teleported away sheepishly, and Patton muffled a chuckle as he turned back to finish installing a window. Logan would be here soon, but until then, it was nice to have company as he once again worked on adding a home to their little patchwork village.

Patton would be the one moving in, of course, and though there was a new addition to their population, Anxiety was more of a secret housemate than a homeowner. (They wouldn’t want anyone gawking at him, after all!) Even with those differences, the process was still familiar enough to make him grin.

Anxiety made a small, otherworldly 'notice me' chirp, and Patton turned to find there was a solid block of dirt in his wall, the grass on top of it still green. It only took him a moment to connect the dirt’s presence to the empty-handed enderman shifting antsily next to it.

“Oh! What a nice touch!” he encouraged, and laughed as Anxiety teleported back and forth in apparent pride. “It’s fun to work together with friends on stuff like this, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t really understand the noises that the enderman made in response, but he got the sense it was a resounding agreement.

[josefavomjaaga]

Letters from 1814

All texts, as usual, from Helfert, "Joachim Murat"

Mier to Metternich. (postscript, in chiffres]. Naples 8 July 1814.

My Prince!

The Sieur Baudus who, when the King of Naples declared war on France, had given his resignation from the place of Sub-Governor to the Princes, who is among the most vocal against the party that the King had chosen, and who intrigued together with the Minister of Finance to tie the King to the interests of Napoleon and to make him break all the engagements contracted with our court, and did all he could to make him slow and indecisive in his steps and to inspire him with distrust against Austria (protected moreover by the Queen and enjoying her confidence), he remained until now in Naples under various excuses always hoping that the King would restore him in his place. Seeing himself deceived in his hopes he determined to choose another battlefield for his intrigues. He succeeded in persuading the King and even more the Queen that by means of his relations with Talleyrand he could be very useful to them at the Congress of Vienna where this Minister is due to go.

The day before yesterday he left for Munich, from where he plans to go to Vienna. As this clever and skilful man will not fail to present himself to Your Highness, I thought it necessary to give Him an idea of this in order to put Him on his guard against the machinations of this intriguer.

I have the honour etc.

When I read »Munich«, I think »Eugène«. Unfortunately, I could not find out if Baudus met with Eugène there. But it would have been possible, Eugène seems to have remained in Munich for most of July and only went to Baden in August.

I did however find an interesting passage in a biography on Caroline Murat by Florence de Baudus that relates to this departure. Apparently, Murat got so anxious and desperate about the last French of his suite leaving his court that Caroline had to ask Agar to calm him and prevent he actually acted against them in his outrage.

In Vienna, Baudus met with Metternich and seems to have received plenty of reassurance for Murat. Beugnot, chief of police in Paris, already knows that Metternich has declared himself a friend of the Murats, much to te chagrin of Louis XVIII.

Mier to Metternich, Naples this 21st October 1814.

My Prince!

Not having been informed about Capitaine Malkzewski being sent as a courier to Vienna, I was not able to take advantage of his departure to pass on to Your Highness my present report: General Boulnois in the service of France, lieutenant in the Garde du Corps, who last had been charged with handing over Corfu to the allied troops, arrived in this capital during the night of the 12th to the 13th. He immediately asked to be admitted to the King. His Majesty granted his request. He began his speech with a thousand protestations of attachment and admiration for the King and told Him that he would take charge of the overtures or proposals which His Majesty would like to make to Louis XVIII, and which would be accepted only through his channel; that he would send a courier to his government on the spot or would bring them to his attention himself; that Louis XVIII was a great admirer of the King's military talents; that Sovereigns must put their personal and family interests above those of their people; that one wished to know in France the views and the policy of the King, the conduct which He would hold if war were to resume; that by his position and the means which He has at his disposal, He could not remain a simple spectator; that He could play a great role in Italy whose inhabitants are dissatisfied with the present order of things and ask only for a leader; that one could agree on many things etc. etc.

The King, who immediately became aware of the purpose of this chatter, asked him if he had any full powers in writing; if he was authorised by his government to enter into negotiations on this matter. On his negative answer His Majesty told him that He had no overtures or proposals to make to France, that He only asked her to be recognised as King of Naples, a thing she could not refuse, in conformity with the treaty concluded with Austria; that He hoped that the tranquillity of the continent would not be disturbed, but that, if unfortunately the war was rekindled, the course of his policy and his views would be entirely in conformity with those of Austria, his ally; that He and his army were at the disposal of this friendly power, and that united with it he was responsible for the tranquillity of Italy; that He nourished no other desire than to remain quiet possessor of his Kingdom and to work for the happiness of his subjects etc.

General Boulnois, seeing that he could not lead the King on this line to some false steps which would compromise him with respect to his Allies, set up his batteries in the opposite direction and said to the King that the principal goal of his voyage to Naples was the business of Marshals Macdonald and Oudinot which relates to the donations which they have in this Kingdom. This matter gave him occasion to speak of the discontent which reigned in France, of the spirit which animated the Marshals General and the French army in general; that Louis XVIII would support himself with difficulty on the throne; that the King possessed the confidence of the French army; that He led it so often to victory that his will and his person could bring about great changes in France; that He could count on being supported by the whole army and a large part of the nation; and many other similar statements, in opposition to what he had just said at the beginning.

The King treated this gentleman as he deserved, and made it clear to him that He was not the dupe of the schemes which were being set up to lose Him. This General, who stopped for a few days in Genoa, then in Ancona, and travelled through part of the Kingdom of Naples, is still here. As he has spent a fairly long time with the French army in this Kingdom, he has a lot of knowledge and is trying to gather information on what relates to the internal position of this country. I suppose that the government will not allow him a long stay in this Capital.

I have the honour of sending herewith to Your Highness the Moniteur de Naples, which contains the royal decree on the endowments made by Napoleon in this Kingdom, motivated by the order of 18 September published in France.

May Your Highness accept the assurances of my highest consideration.

It is interesting how Louis XVIII, having barely been properly seated on the throne, was already preoccupied with the fate of his distant Neapolitan relatives.

The next letter Helfert offers in his book already is from after the Congress of Vienna had been opened (do we need another timeline for this period?).

Metternich to Mier (concept). Vienna on November 6, 1814.

The Duke of Campo-Chiaro sends today General Filangieri as a courier to Naples, and I take advantage of this occasion to send you the present dispatch.

The Duke's reports undoubtedly contain very detailed data on the present position of things in Vienna. There are very great objects occupying the powers gathered under the name of Congress; united by the intention of removing the difficulties which would arise from too complicated forms, the powers with objects of open discussion have taken the step of establishing direct negotiations, to which the presence of the sovereigns and of several heads of cabinet lend every facility.

France, together with the other branches of the Bourbon House, has up to now aimed at bringing the Neapolitan question into the arrangements of Europe in consequence of the treaty of Paris. Our cabinet has constantly resisted this move, basing itself on the text of its treaties with the Court of Naples, and on the principle that it cannot question the existence of an independent power whose fate is in no way linked to that of the dynasty which has been expelled from the throne of France.

Oops. Sorry, Caroline. Seems Metternich just erased your name from the Bonaparte family tree.

I beg you, Count, to invite the Duke of Gallo to bring you up to date on the details which Monsieur de Campo-Chiaro is bound to send him of the discussions that have so far taken place on these important subjects. They will prove to the Court of Naples the constancy of the course of His Imperial Majesty in accordance with the principles which have always guided his cabinet. The Emperor has never violated the faith of treaties and he never will.

Uhm. Can I please quote Archduke Charles here? »Of course I have no problems breaking a treaty...«

The more His Majesty should be reassured about the impossibility of her being exposed to an attack from the coast or on the land, the more it would be desirable that He should not, by extraordinary measures, reawaken the fear in Italy about chimerical dangers. Complications are often created by wishing to forestall them in too anxious a manner. The attitude of the King, the only one in conformity with his true interests, must be that of calm. He is at home, his army is fine, he has between him and France all the Austrian forces; let him come to an agreement with the only immediate neighbour, let him follow the indications which must also have been given to him by the Duke of Campo-Chiaro, and let him put himself in the position of a power which does not seek quarrel with any other, but which would repel any attack. The only possible one being on the side of the sea, any demonstration on the opposite side is not only useless, but it is harmful to his interests, in that it furnishes pretexts to the malicious to slander the intentions of the King, and gratuitous grounds for supposition to the opposite party, that the Court of Naples is not entirely confident of the intentions of Austria.

These considerations, which arise from the very nature of things, may be brought to the King's attention by you, as having come directly from me. You will add the assurance that, if ever the rest of Italy were to be threatened (which there is no appearance of) by an enemy outside, or by parties within its bosom, His Imperial Majesty would not only count on the support of His Majesty in the same cause, but that He would be the first to call upon the support of the King.

The Duke of Campo-Chiaro finds himself placed as a Minister in Congress in the same attitude as are those of all the other powers. I congratulate myself on having been able to put aside all the questions which might have complicated his position by isolating him, it would in no case have been entirely so, for the existence of the Grand Duke of Tuscany is no less contested by the Spanish Court than that of the King of Naples.

Receive etc.

I guess what Metternich is trying to say here is: Mier – for the love of god, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid!

[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

[myfriendscallmecoelophysis]

where we will we'll roam

Its atla au fluff I swear

Dedicated always and forever to @the-nerf-house  and @transvav (5166 words)

“And we’re sure Jordan can’t just waterbend us all over there?” 

“While I appreciate the confidence in my abilities Tom, no. I can’t. It's an entire ocean. We’ll have to find a ship.” 

They’d come to the unfortunate realization that unless they wanted to back track several weeks, they’d have to cross the Southern Ocean to reach their current destination in the Earth Kingdom and were now left with the dilemma of how to accomplish that task. 

“There’s a village about a day's walk east of here, it's on the water so hopefully they’ll have a ship we can charter.” Dec pointed out, tracing the route with his fingertip on their map. 

“Or steal” Tom muttered with a mischievous look. 

“We’re not stealing a ship Tom. We need someone to sail it anyway, unless you suddenly learned how?” Tucker scolded. They quickly fell into their familiar routine of teasing argument, gesturing wildly and voices rising despite the amusement in their eyes. 

From her perch on Jordan’s shoulder, Ianite flicked her tail, rolling her eyes at them. Gods this entire journey would be so much simpler if any of them would ever bother asking what skills her Champion had to offer. Then again, he wasn’t likely to tell them. He preferred his privacy, which she respected, but sometimes she felt that he stayed quiet just for the satisfaction of surprising them when he revealed a new talent. 

~

When they arrived at the village, it turned out to not only be a port town, but a bustling one at that. For once, their mixed group doesn’t stand out sorely, the people in the town as varied as they themselves are. They split into groups to restock supplies, get information and hopefully find someone they can charter a ship from. Jordan volunteered to go to the docks because he may not want to tell him of his years of experience sailing but he certainly wasn’t going to let one of the others get tricked or swindled by a greedy pirate. Tucker and Wag join him, Tucker because he likes to think he’s the leader of the group and Wag simply because he is interested in seeing the different ships.

Ianite stood on Jordan’s shoulders as they approached the docks. The air smelled of fish and salt, dozens of boats of all sizes bobbing in the waves. “Milady?” Jordan asked, glancing back at her curiously. “Everything okay?” There was a feeling shuddering down her spine, a familiar pull that she hasn’t felt in years, like the way Jordan felt to her but, different. She leapt from his shoulders and dashed into the crowd, ignoring her Champion's cry of worry. 

~

“So that was weird of her right?” Tucker commented to Wag as they chased Jordan through the crowd. “I mean that cat is always weird but that was extra weird.” For Mianite’s sake when did Jordan get so quick? There were a lot of people to dodge through, he should not be able to lose them this easily. Up ahead he saw Jordan turn sharply and sprint up the ramp of a random ship after his cat. What the actual fuck was going on?

When they finally caught up with him, Jordan had gone still and quiet. His cat was curled in the arms of an old sailor, purring up a storm. The sailor looked just as surprised as Tucker felt but didn’t seem to mind otherwise. 

“Nice cat ya got here lad.” The sailor commented pointedly, lips curled into a slight smile. 

“Skipper?” Jordan breathed. He sounded astonished, as though he was seeing a ghost. 

“Aye, but it be Captain now mate.” The sailor smirked, showing off a golden tooth. 

“And Capsize?” Jordan’s voice was hesitant, as though he was scared of the answer.

“Happily retired. Well not happily, had to force her after she took a bit of a fall. But she’s happy now. Married a fisherman's daughter a while back, two o’ them live in a port town in the Earth Kingdom, started adopting orphans left an’ right. Actually where I be headed.” 

Tucker could see the relief flow through Jordan like a wave, his entire posture changing and relaxing. Admittedly he didn’t know much about Jordan, none of them really did, but he could read a room  ship and figured this must be a guy Jordan knew. 

“These your friends? Or are these just scallywags trying to commandeer me ship?” The Captain asked, nodding towards Wag and him. 

“We’re with him. I’m Tucker, this is Wag.” he glanced at Jordan then decided eh, heck with it, if Jordan knew this guy and he was already headed to the Earth Kingdom he might be able to give them a lift. “We’re trying to find passage to the Earth Kingdom, think you could help us out?”

“Tucker!” Jordan reprimanded. “I’m not going to-”

“‘Course I can help you out mate, long as you're headed my way. Anything for an old friend, ‘specially you Cap.” he directed the last part at Jordan with a one fingered salute. 

“Please I’m not-” Jordan said, shaking his head but then trailing off with a glance towards him and Wag. “Not anymore.” Something changed on the Captain's face but he nodded nonetheless. 

“Either way mate, I'd be happy to take you ‘cross. I be warning ye tho, this ain’t no merchant ship.” He leaned in a bit and smirked “We be pirates.” 

“The only person on this crew that was ever really a pirate was Capsize.” Jordan argued, the gentle melancholy replaced by amusement. The Captain looked at him for a moment then laughed, a deep hearty belly laugh. 

“Aye that do certainly be true! Now then! Skipper! Prepare the cabins, we be having guests on this voyage!” From up above in the rigging a man with stark ginger hair leaned out. 

“Yar! Aye aye Captain!” He answered in a high pitched squeak of a voice, saluting as he began to climb down. 

“That be me First Mate, Skipper Tom.” He leaned in once more, putting a hand to the side of his mouth “He may be a few drops short of a bottle, defected from the Fire Nation Navy and all, but he’s got spirit and having him around certainly beats sailing by meself.” 

“Skipper, I mean, Captain. Are you sure you can take us? It’s not just us three, we have a bit of a crew of our own.” “Jordan Mate, any friends of yours be friends of mine. It be alright. I promise. ‘Sides, not like your Lady here takes up much space.” The cat looked up when she was mentioned and meowed once before snuggling back in his arm. “Aye Lass, I have just the place for ye. Hows about two of ye go find your friends and one of ye can stay behind and help me get the ship ready?” 

“I’ll-” Tucker started to volunteer to stay but Wag had already grabbed his hand.

“Tucker and I will go find the others. You stay here Jordan.” Wag said, nodding to Jordan. There was a spark of gratitude in Jordan’s eyes but he didn’t say thank you, not outright at least. 

“Any supplies we can get for you Captain? As payment for taking us?” Wag asked. 

“I’m sure whatever yer friends already be getting will be fine. Just be sure ye be back before sundown. It ain’t smart to set sail after dark.” 

~

Once Tucker and Wag had left, Jordan expected questions. Instead Skipper, no he had to remember, he was Captain Redbeard now, gently set Ianite down on a nearby barrel. “Ye still remember how to sail mate? Me thinks it’s probably been a while.” It was the only hint he made at acknowledging that something was strange. 

He fell into the rhythm of preparing a ship to sail easily enough. Sure he had to retie a few knots and needed Skipper Tom’s help to run some of the rigging but by the time the others arrived his hands and body had remembered what to do. From the looks they gave him as he slid down a rope from the mast, Tucker had told them at least whatever he thought he knew and they wanted to hear the rest from Jordan himself. Before any of them can open their mouths to ask, Redbeard is shouting for Skipper Tom to raise the anchor and for Jordan to help with the sails. He goes without hesitating, more than happy to put off the explanations as long as possible. 

They leave port as the sun is setting though the light of the nearly full moon is plenty to guide their way. Jordan managed to avoid explanations by sticking close to Redbeard. He knew the others wouldn’t let their questions go but they would at least relax their desire to know now if he ignored them long enough. They should be used to him doing it enough by now. 

“With a moon this full I’d ask ye or yer airbending friends to give us a little boost but ye’d rather stay out longer wouldn’t ye?” Redbeard commented knowingly, a hand loose on the wheel. They are standing at the helm together, most of the others below deck trying to get some sleep. Wag and Dec are up top still, chatting to each other over a game of sticks and pebbles but with the sound of the wind it's loud enough that they won’t hear what’s being said. “How long has it been lad?” 

“I’m not sure.” Jordan admitted quietly. “How old are you now?” 

“Old enough.” Redbeard chuckled. “Old enough.” he reached down to scratch at Ianite’s head. She’d draped herself just in front of the wheel on a wide banister that allowed her a view of the entire deck. She’d missed the feeling of sailing just as much it seemed, barely stumbling as it rocked back and forth. “Care to tell me what happened?” 

“Not really.” Jordan replied. 

“Fair be it mate. Then how abouts the story of how ye ended up travelling with the Avatar?” 

“They found me. I wasn’t going to help them at first but Milady insisted. If I had my way, I’d still be back home in my treehouse.” 

“But ye’d also be alone. No offense to ye of course lass.” He conceded when Ianite turned to look at him. “I know ye Captain, ye need friends in your life.” 

“I’m not a Captain anymore. I haven’t been in a very long time.” 

“Ye will always be a Captain, even if ye don’t think ye are. ‘Tis not about the title, ‘tis about the way ye carry yourself. Ye are at home out here mate, on the seas. If once ye all have won yer battle, ye be looking for somewhere to go, know ye will always have a place aboard me ship.” 

Jordan sighed but then gave him a gentle smile. “Thanks Skipper, I mean, Captain.”

“Of course mate. Now, reckon ye can manage to keep her steady while I get some sleep?”

Jordan grabbed the wheel from him and nodded “Aye Aye Captain.” 

~

Of everyone, Karl imagined he related to Jordan the least. They were opposite elements, opposite personalities and had, from what very little Karl knew about him, very different approaches to life. Karl had spent all his life trying to prove himself as a worthy Champion to Mianite, to create a name for himself the same as Tucker and Tom had. He was loud, outgoing and easy to read, an open book he liked to claim. Jordan on the other hand was quiet, reserved, and secretive. From what Karl had seen, Jordan could kick any of their asses in a fight without breaking a sweat. So why was he so timid? He should have confidence through the metaphorical roof. It was a mystery. 

He realized as he watched Jordan move around the ship, that the waterbender did have plenty of confidence. He walked without falter while the rest of them barely kept their feet. He climbed and swung through the riggings like he'd been born to do it. He was the most comfortable Karl had ever seen him. He clearly had some sort of history with sailing, the fact that the Captain of the ship treated him like an old friend only solidified the theory. But why then had he been hiding away in a deep forest? 

“Your owner is a mystery, you know that right?” Karl told Lady, feeding her a piece from the fish he was busy butchering. He wasn’t sure how but he knew the cat understood them when they spoke to her, there was something strange about her as well. The pair of them were just oddities. She chirped at him, tail flicking and eyes focused on the fish. “Was he a pirate before you both moved to the forest? That why he’s so comfortable on the ship?” She didn’t answer, abruptly licking at her paw. He chuckled to himself, cutting off another piece of fish for her “Fair enough. Guess we all get to keep our secrets.” 

~

It only took until the second day for boredom to begin to set in. On the first day, the novelty of being on a ship and exploring it had been enough but now that the novelty had worn off... 

“Jordan! Spar with me!” Tom shouted up at Jordan. The waterbender was lounging on the crossbeam of the foremast, apparently completely unconcerned by how high in the air he was. He sat up, looked down at Tom, then promptly ignored him.

“Jordannnn!” Tom whined. 

“Give it up Tom, you can’t even bend out here anyway. He’d kick your ass.” Tucker commented, he was also lounging back, hat pulled forward over his eyes and hands behind his head. 

“I’ll spar with you.” Karl offered. “Promised the Captain I wouldn’t bend anyway.” Tom grinned and was leaping at him in an instant. Soon enough the others were watching from their various positions around the ship. They may all claim to be uninterested but there was a reason all of them were some of the best at their respective talents. Karl wins, just barely, and then Sonja is on her feet calling out “Me next!” Unlike Karl and Tom’s duel, Sonja and Wag send gusts of wind across the ship and through the rigging, the sails rippling. Both step and twirl with their element, counterbalancing against the motion of the ship with each move. They declare a tie in the end, bowing to each other with wide smiles. Dec throws Tucker a staff and the two of them engage, the clacking of the wood ringing across the water. It’s a spar that is slightly less than fair, Tucker had far less training with physical weapons than Dec did, but that doesn’t stop him from giving it his all. Their battle leads them all over the ship, up on the railings and across the deck. From his position at the helm, the Captain simply ducks under the swing of a staff, grinning just as big as the rest of them. Tucker missteps, his foot getting caught in a rope and sending him backwards. Dec grabs his hand to slow his fall but still puts him on the deck, staff poised over him. The only one left who hasn’t fought is Jordan and as if of one mind, they all look up to where he’s sitting.

He’s got a grin on his face and his outer shirt shrugged off. Of them all, he’s got the biggest advantage and he knows it, both in bending and in familiarity with the current environment. They fall into their respective stances as he gets to his feet and then he suddenly sprints across the crossbeam. They watch as without pause he grabs a hold of a rope and leaps, swinging down and then out across the water. He let go, diving through the air and into the water with hardly a splash. 

It’s a playful massacre after that, all of them heaving with breath and laughter, absolutely drenched with seawater. Jordan is no exception, he’s standing between them all, breathing just as hard but with a grin a mile wide on his face. The entire game had done wonders for their boredom as well as dissipating the strange tension that had surrounded over them since they’d embarked. 

Jordan sat among them at dinnertime instead of alone like he had the nights prior. They did their best not to react when he quietly said “Redbeard and I learned to sail under the same Captain.” It’s not the first time they’ve gotten a hint to his past but it is the first time he’s brought something up of his own accord. 

“Aye.” The Captain agreed, raising his mug of grog with a smile. “Best Pirate Captain you ever did see.”

“Capsize was a friend of mine when I was young. She and her crew came to the port near my village and offered to teach me to sail. Redbeard was the Skipper aboard the ship at the time. I owe her a lot.”

“As do I lad. We certainly ain’t the only ones. ‘Tis why I make a point to go and visit her, even if it do be out of me way.” 

The others stayed silent as Jordan and Redbeard reminisced back and forth, both out of interest to hear what it had been like for Redbeard to grow up on this ship but also for the glimpses it offered into Jordan’s past. They all knew better at this point than to pry or attempt to get anything from him easily. Eventually Jordan seemed to notice none of them were speaking up and quickly apologized, almost visibly drawing in on himself. 

“You’re alright mate, nothing to be sorry for.” Dec assured him with a gentle smile. “You know, I once knew a pirate lord who called himself Hermod. Though admittedly he was also quite the notorious liar so not sure how much stake I put in him actually being a lord like he claimed..” And then Dec was off, telling his own story. He was perceptive in a way the others often weren’t, able to diffuse building tensions before they even fully formed. It was why he made a good priest to the Gods and a good friend.

~

It's barely dawn when the ship shudders beneath them. There’s shouting from above and when they stumble from their hammocks onto the deck, Captain Redbeard, Skipper Tom and Jordan are running around like mad. 

“What’s going on!?” Tucker speaks up for all of them. 

“Fire Nation ship on the horizon, heading towards us and fast.” Jordan explained quickly as he tied a rope down. “We’re going to try and outrun them but odds aren’t good. Their engine is faster than our sails could ever be.” 

“What can we do to help?” Tom asked. 

Jordan paused for just a moment, looking at the Captain. “I’ll take care of the steering lad! You keep us afloat!” The Pirate called, Jordan nodding in agreement. 

“Tom, Tucker, Dec, tie down everything loose. We don’t want any weight shifting around. Wag, Karl, you two work on defending against any projectiles that may come our way. Expect fireballs at the very least. Sonja, you’re with me. We’re going to try and keep them off of us as long as we can.” 

They scattered to their assigned tasks and for once no one even considers questioning. Not even Tom, who normally would question an order from anyone but his God, says a word. They are putting their faith in Jordan’s expertise even though they have no idea to what extent he knows what he’s doing. It’s not quite blind faith, he’d proven that he knew his way around a ship, but it’s faith in skills that they only know part of. It’s all they have right now though, so it was good enough.

“Coming about!” The Captain called, heaving the wheel hard to the side. The boom swings across the deck as the sails turn. “Give ‘er some help!” Together Wag and Sonja send a huge gust of air into the mainsail, steadying the turn and speeding it up. Their ship is smaller than the one they are facing and more maneuverable. It would be faster if not for the presence of an engine, the opposing ship belching a plume of steam into the air from it’s central column. 

The moment they are facing the Fire Nation head on, the barrage begins. Fireballs the size of small boulders come sailing towards them, one after another. Together Wag and Karl manage to deflect them into the sea, each one sending up a massive splash and burst of sizzling steam as it hits the water. 

“This would be easier if they’d come overnight. The moon was full.” Jordan said, more to himself than to Sonja. He fell into his bending stance and she stepped into a mirror copy beside him. “You understand the plan?” The Avatar nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath. This would be the largest attempt at waterbending she’d done thus far. Up until now she’d worked primarily in small amounts, starting small with her practice. This was throwing her straight into the deep end and hoping she’d swim. 

“You’ve got this. Trust what you’ve learned.” Jordan reassured her. “Block everything else out. Focus on the water.” 

“On my mark.” He muttered softly. Their ship faded from around and below her, she could only feel the water, the waves. She let the sounds around them disappear, stretching out to feel the flow of the sea beneath them. She could feel it’s potential, what it was capable of doing, the strength it held. 

“Now!” He said and they both moved into action, pulling and lifting the sea. It wrapped around the sides of the Fire Nation ship like an enormous sea monster from legend. The waves crashed on the deck and then all at once, both Jordan and Sonja tightened their grasp on the water, freezing it solid. 

“Fill the sails!” Redbeard cried, Wag turned on his heel and sent the strongest gust of wind he could muster into the canvas, the sail bloating from the force and propelling them forward. Sonja stumbled on her feet, Jordan reaching out to steady her. 

“I’m alright.” She said after a moment to catch her breath. “Next step. I’m good.” 

“You go help Wag. We’re almost out of this.” he assured her, running off towards the stern. 

Between the extra air filling the sails and the push of water behind them, they manage to outrun the ship once they have it frozen in place. After nearly an hour of the Fire Nation ship being out of view and several course alterations so they couldn't be followed, Redbeard collapsed against the wheel, flexing his hands after their white-knuckle grasp on the wheel. The rest of them collectively fall to the deck, heart beats slowly calming and adrenaline fading. 

It's Tom who speaks first, raising a victorious fist in the air from his position laying on the deck, crowing “Yo Ho Yo Ho a Pirate's life for me!” 

~

The little detour puts them an extra day off course but eventually they do see land on the horizon. 

“Land ho Captain!” Skipper Tom calls from the crows nest, waving his spyglass wildly. Captain Redbeard nods with a grin. 

They pull into the port town just after midday, all of them lending a helping hand to get the ship tied off and steady. 

“Thank you for your help Captain.” Dec said, reaching out to shake the pirates hand. “We appreciate you getting us over here.”

“Not a problem at all mate. Any friend o’ Jordan’s be a friend of mine. If ye ever need a ship. I be at yer service.” Redbeard saluted with a grin. “Speakin’ of, ye coming with me mate? I’m sure she’d like ta see ye.” 

Jordan blinked in surprise “I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to, Ow!” His hand went to his ear, rubbing at the spot Ianite had just nipped. He glared at her but sighed “Fine. I’ll go see her.” 

“We’ll wait for you just outside of town Jordan. Take as long as you need.” Dec assured him with a kind nod. 

He watched the rest of them disappear into the crowd, wobbly and laughing as they regained their land legs after days at sea. 

“It’ll be alright mate. Promise.” Redbeard said, laying a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “‘Sides, I think Miss Lady here is excited to see ‘er anyway.” 

Jordan stayed quiet, wringing his hands as he followed Redbeard through the town. Skipper Tom had stayed behind to mind the ship, leaving just the two of them. He lead them just outside the town, to a home with its own dock, a small fishing boat bobbing gently in the waves. 

“Uncle Redbeard!” A child’s voice cried out. From the home, a trio of children came running. Triplets, Jordan realized after a double take. All three looked nearly identical aside from the manner of dress. 

“Ahoy mateys!” Redbeard greeted, crouching down and opening his arms wide so the children could tackle him to the ground. They swarmed him for a moment asking all sorts of questions, barely intelligible in their excitement. 

“Who’re you?” One of them asked, pulling away from Redbeard to look at Jordan. The boy had a sneer of suspicion on his lips, though it was less than threatening considering his age and size.  

“Calm yourself lad, He be a old friend of me and your mum.” 

“You don’t look very old.” Another child said, the girl’s voice high-pitched and accusatory. 

“It don’t be good manners to comment about someone's age Kala but I assure ye, Jordan do be a friend of ours.” She still looked suspicious, turning away with a ‘hmph’. 

“Are you a pirate?” The last child asked, far more politely than both his siblings. 

Jordan shrugged “Not really, but I have been before at one time or another.” 

“You’ll have time to ask all the questions ye want, right now we be needing to see your mum. She inside?” 

“Aye Captain!” all three chriped together in their best impression of pirates, grins on their cheeks. They saluted him with varying levels of propriety then dashed back towards the house on each other's heels. 

“Mom! Uncle Redbeard is here!” The voices preceded their entrance into the home, Redbeard removing his hat as he stepped through the door. 

“Aye? Skipper?” A woman called and Jordan nearly crumpled to his knees. He’d thought he was mentally ready to see Capsize again but suddenly he wanted to run as far as his legs could carry him. Seeing her would only further cement just how much time had passed. He’d had the same gut-twisting realization seeing Redbeard but Capsize was, well she was Capsize. They had been as close as two people could be once upon a time. 

Redbeard’s gentle hand on his shoulder and Ianite’s comforting familiar weight kept him in place, but it did not stop Capsize from dropping her tea tray in shock when she entered the room. 

“Jordan? Mate, be it you?” Her dark eyes were shimmering, wide with astonishment. She was older, of course she was. Her hair was silver now, braided back away from her face. Her skin was deeply wrinkled from years upon years spent in the sun on the sea and instead of her Captains coat she wore a simple pair of trousers and a loose fitting shirt. 

Jordan nodded, suddenly unable to find any words. She crossed the room slowly, as if he might disappear if she moved too fast, then opened her arms to embrace him. 

“Oh mate, I thought ye had died.” She sighed in relief, resting her head against his shoulder. “We all thought the worst when we came back to the village.” She must’ve felt the way he tensed or the way his heartbeat quickened because she fell silent for a long moment. “I just be glad ye are alright.” She pulled back just enough that she could look at Ianite. “And I assume I have ye to thank for that milady?” Ianite stood from his shoulder and crossed to Capsize’s, rubbing her cheek along the old pirates face as she went. “Aye, I be glad to see ye as well. I be glad to see ye both.” She repeated, letting go of Jordan to stroke Ianite. 

“I’ll get another pot o’ tea going, ye both go sit and catch up. I’ve already had me chance.” Redbeard suggested with a smile, nodding towards a small table in the corner. 

“I do be wondering how ye ended up here.” She admitted. 

“Well,” Jordan began, sitting down across from her. Suddenly he realized that these were people who would understand if he were to tell them. They wouldn’t judge him for his actions or the way he’d reacted. They had always cared for him and Ianite like family. Maybe now was the chance to finally get some of what he’d been holding on to for so many years off his chest. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, suddenly unsure. 

“Mate, I don't need the whole tale.” Capsize said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “As much as I want to hear it, if ye ain’t ready to tell it then ye don’t have to.” Their eyes met, her stormy gray eyes so familiar a comfort. “Start with how ye found Redbeard.” She suggested and a weight lifted from his chest. 

“We, me, milady and the ones we are traveling with, needed passage to the Earth Kingdom. It was actually Ianite that found him…” 

Later that night, long after the sun had set, Jordan rejoined the others. They’d set up camp on the outskirts of town, a fire already roaring between them and their chatter greeting Jordan long before he actually saw them. He’d not told Capsize and Redbeard everything, but more of the story had flowed from him than he’d told anyone but Ianite. It had felt good, letting some of the weight go, even if it hadn’t been all of it. 

“Good visit?” Wag asked as Jordan sat down next to him. 

He nodded, shifting Ianite from his shoulders to his lap. She hardly stirred, tail curling around herself as her purring got louder. 

“It’s always good to catch up with old friends.” Wag commented, turning back towards the fire.

Jordan let himself get lost in the banter, listening and just existing among them. He’d been alive long enough for more than one lifetime. Half of one had been spent in Darkness, another with the Pirates and his village and now he had this. It may have been a long road to get here and an even longer road ahead but maybe this time he could actually do some good. 

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 4

AN: Just in time for the A!countdown! Looking forward to those sneak peeks next month! 

Ch 4: Extraterrestrial 

New Selenian Date 3015.4.21

 Though our voyage through space was more volatile than I expected, we’ve successfully approached Terra’s exosphere. Under other circumstances, it would be cause for celebration, but…

 Well, Snowball has only spoken to me for essentials during the past few days. Usually so he can update me while he raids the pantry for maza or to catch up on sleep.

Our argument has only served as a reminder that we’re not…as united in our mutual goal as much I want to believe.

It must the length of the journey. Access to only four rooms in a one week period can give anyone a serious case of cabin fever. He’ll get better once we land on Terra’s surface, I’m sure.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Was it really April 21? Pinky hurried to the Mickey Mouse calendar pinned to the wall next to his cage. He really loved that picture of Mickey giving flowers to a blushing Minnie. They really were the perfect couple!

Pinky imitated Mickey’s pose, dropping down on one knee as if he was offering a bouquet of pretty daffodils…wait, no those were lilies. He rubbed his head, confused by the yellow flowers in the picture. Maybe it was the type with the really long name.

What was it again? Ah, yes! A lovely bouquet of Chris-and-his-moms for Minnie!

Egad, the picture was so pretty that he’d forgotten about the reminder he’d penciled in the box for April 21!

“Granny Smith at 9 pm?” Pinky tilted his head, trying to make sense of what he’d written. He didn’t know any grannies that well, nor did he know any Smiths. Besides, Pharfignewton was leaving the ranch tonight at 9 pm, and he was going to see her off before she was off to the races. “Poit! Oh yeah, the apple! An apple a day keeps the vets away!”

Pharfignewton needed the energy for the journey too. Kentucky was a long way from California. About nine inches according to his placemat of the United States.

Before he left, he needed to leave a response for his space pen pal. But they weren’t exactly using pens. Maybe space radio pals was better.  

Pinky went back to the Walkman. It made a bunch of crackling noises, like the Brain hadn’t turned his equipment off yet.

“Hi, the Brain!” Pinky grinned. The was such a funny first name. “Glad you could make it to Earth! Or Terra! Whatever you wanna call it! Wherever you land, I hope you and Snowball enjoy yourselves. Definitely try strawberry cheesecake sometime. It’s delicious!”

The static continued.

“Anyway, Pharfignewton’s leaving for the Kentucky Derby tonight, so I can’t chat for long. Maybe tomorrow? I’ll spend twice as much time talking to you tomorrow! Fig’s been practicing super extra hard. She’s gonna win the Derby and get that Triple Crown! That’s her dream, you know! Dreams are a wish your heart makes, zort! Cinderella said so!”

Pinky put his hand over the Walkman’s speaker. “Your dream is taking over Terra, and mine is being surrounded by cheese from around the world! Or maybe that’s just my stomach. I can never tell for sure.”

The clock chimed eight, its little pendulum swinging to and fro in a dizzying pattern.

He had to say goodbye now.

And say goodbye again later.

“Alright…well, I’ll let you go. I bet you have some important Conquesowhatsit things to do. Bye, the Brain. Glad you could make it to Terra. You and Snowball are gonna love it. Ooh, there I go again. Bye for real this time.” Pinky slowly turned the dial down, past tinny classical and pop music stations, until the Walkman was off.

Dreams were always nice, even if Pharfignewton and the Brain had to travel far away to make them come true. Pinky’s parents were probably making their own dream of eating gourmet food pellets real as well. Sis didn’t have one yet. She was still torn between professional hairdressing and getting a cooking show on Food Network, but she was young and had plenty of time to grow up.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sis was right. He didn’t have to decide on a dream for himself yet. Well, surrounding himself with provolone, cheddar, mozzarella, camembert, and all the other yummy cheeses was still a wonderful dream for now.

“A world of cheeses, deliciously made for you and me…” Pinky sang, the air conditioner providing a nice background instrumental as he went to the breakroom to fetch Pharfignewton’s apple.

o-o-o-o-o

Carting the Granny Smith apple to the ranch took more time than Pinky imagined. Running on his wheel along with those upper body strength VHS tapes helped him for most of the trek, but there’d still been one scary moment where he’d leaned back too far to see the pretty full moon. Luckily, the apple wasn’t too bruised from tumbling downhill.

By the time Pinky arrived, Pharfignewton was already in her horse trailer. Her owner sat on a nearby bench, his brow furrowed as his thumbs tapped rapidly on his cell phone. A white pick-up truck sat in front of the trailer, though the latch to connect the vehicles hadn’t been hooked yet.

The door to Pharfignewton’s trailer was wide open, the ramp still on the ground. Delays were good. It meant he could hold off on saying goodbye a little longer.

“Fig, I got you an apple! A sweet and healthy Granny Smith!” Pinky exclaimed as he ran up the ramp. Before he could get to the top, Pharfignewton bent down and grasped the apple in her teeth, nearly chomping down on Pinky’s hands as she lifted her head. Pinky’s feet left the ground, and he gripped the apple with both hands, almost sliding off the smooth surface.

He couldn’t resist a tiny nibble. Pharfignewton wouldn’t mind.

Pinky climbed onto her muzzle just as the apple was crunched into mush. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, her eyes shut from sheer happiness. He stroked the fur between her eyes and hummed Camptown Races because it was her favorite song. She always got excited to race when she heard it.

Pharfignewton’s hooves clopped against the floor rhythmically, her head bobbing up and down.

“-gonna run all night! Gonna run all day!” Pinky sang, grabbing her soft mane and hauling himself up. He clung to her ears for balance. “I’ll bet my money here on Fig, cause she’s gonna win this May!”  

Pharfignewton neighed, her tail raised proudly.

Her owner looked up from his phone. His bushy beard quivered as he chuckled and waved at her. A van pulled up to the curb, the window sliding down to reveal a man in a funny white cowboy hat. The owner shouted and pointed to the newcomer’s hat.

“What a fashion icon, Fig! Rodeo style hats at the Kentucky Derby. Why didn’t I think of that?” Pinky asked. “Egad, I need to make my own hat for the Derby! A derby hat! With fancy ribbons and dandelions and those little beads on sombreros!”

Cowboy Man clapped the owner on the shoulder as he climbed out of his van, the owner playfully shoving him in return. The back doors of the van were opened, and they started loading the pile of heavy feed bags and horse care equipment into the hollowed out space, trading good-natured jabs while they worked.

Pinky glanced at the starry night sky, scratching the back of Pharfignewton’s ear. “I almost forgot. The Brain made it to Terra. He said so in his message tonight. Told him he should try strawberry cheesecake. I don’t know if they have that in space.”

Pharfignewton snorted.

“Oh, you and your homemade apple strudel,” Pinky grinned. “Tell you what. Win the Triple Crown and I’ll bake the most scrumptious, most mouthwateringest apple strudel you’ve had in your life! Oh wait, no, how ‘bout I just bake it when you come back? Whenever that will be. Maybe soon?”

However long she’d be gone, Pinky hoped she’d call or write or keep in touch some other way. Well, sending a postcard might be a little tricky with hooves. How was she ever gonna apply the stamps?

Pharfignewton neighed, her front hooves knocking against the floor in worry.

“I’ll be okay, Fig. I can wait ‘til August. There’s lots of fun things to do in the summer. Like playing water polo, air hockey, capture the flag...”

Except those games all needed two players.

And while Monopoly game pieces and dominoes made for great substitutes when he couldn’t round up the checkers and marbles, it just wouldn’t be the same without Pharfignewton.

Pinky’s tail started to cramp.

He hadn’t realized he’d wrung it between his hands so hard. It wasn’t the fun sort of pain either.

Outside, the men finished loading their supplies. The van doors were shut, and Pharfignewton’s trailer was hitched to the truck.

Their boots loudly thumped against the ground with every step.

Pinky slid down Pharfignewton’s long muzzle, his feet resting against the back of her nostrils. He gripped her face and looked at those gorgeous blue eyes. They were the same shade as his turquoise crayon. He wanted to remember that.

Pinky rested his jaw on Pharfignewton’s fur, trying to keep the tiny quaver out of his voice. “Well…guess this is it, huh?” he murmured. “You have a good trip now. You’re the best racehorse I’ve ever met. Course I don’t know any other racehorses, but you’re gonna win the Derby, Fig. I know you will. Just keep in touch, ‘kay?”

She knickered softly, her breath stirring Pinky’s fur as she lowered him to the ground outside her trailer. Her breath smelled just like applesauce. She carefully rubbed the underside of her jaw against Pinky’s head, nuzzling away tears that made his vision a little blurry, then slowly raised herself to her majestic height.

“Poit. Really, Fig.” Pinky tilted his head back so the tears just pooled in his eyes instead of trailing down his cheeks. “You’ve got a dream ahead of you.”

Pharfignewton stomped her hoof.

But Pinky shook his head. True, he could go with her, but who was gonna keep his cage clean and his wheel oiled if he wasn’t around? Besides, Pharfignewton would have so many new horse friends. She was gonna be a celebrity by association.

Pinky wiped a tear away with his tail. “I don’t wanna distract you or anything. Meet someone new! Who knows? You might even be fast friends!”

Then Cowboy Man and the owner walked past, too engrossed in their conversation to notice Pinky. Pharfignewton craned her neck, trying to see above Cowboy Man while he folded the ramp. Before she could reply, her owner gently shooed her further into the trailer while Cowboy Man finished up.

Once the trailer door was shut and locked, the owner and Cowboy Man took some time to stroke Pharfignewton’s face. The window bars were wide enough to allow almost her entire muzzle through.

They promised good things for her, win or lose. She’d be eating her fill of apples and carrots for sure.

She’d be happy out there, running like the wind to her heart’s content.  

Ten minutes later, Cowboy Man drove away in his supply van. Pharfignewton’s owner started up the truck.

Pinky quickly climbed up a fencepost and waved to Pharfignewton, wishing he’d brought along a handkerchief to blow his nose into or flutter in the air like a proper movie goodbye.

Pharfignewton stretched her neck as far as she could.

“Bye! Adios! Sayonara!” Pinky called, cupping his hands as the truck slowly inched onto the side road’s pavement. The trailer turned slightly with the movement, and Pinky quickly hopped to a fencepost within Pharfignewton’s line of sight.

She looked happy enough to get the show on the road, but her whinnies were still worried.

He had to cheer her up! She couldn’t travel to Kentucky with that frowny face!

“Camptown ladies! Sing this song! Narf!” Pinky panted, taking only a moment to catch his breath, the song choppy as he ran the length of the fence. But even with the truck’s slow crawl, he couldn’t keep up, and the truck disappeared over the hill, pulling the trailer and Pharfignewton along with it.

He didn’t slow down in time. Pinky stumbled over the last fencepost and fell into the springy grass below. The thud knocked his breath away for just a moment, but he shook it off quickly.

It was nothing really.

“Camptown racetrack’s fi-five thousand miles away…”

Pharfignewton shouldn’t worry.

He had the small, boxy TV that the lab couldn’t afford to upgrade to a flat screen. The NBC channel always showed the Derby.

And it was enough for him.

o-o-o-o-o

Had the stars always been that far away? They seemed much lonelier than usual.

Pinky tilted his head as far as he could, taking in the navy sky above. There was no moon and no way to spot the Brain’s old home tonight. He was probably somewhere on Earth by now.

Paris was nice at this time of year. Maybe the Brain would get all the cheese and baguettes he could eat. The city of light and love was absolutely splendid and heavenly. Pinky had never been there, but the landscape seemed so pretty at night in Ratatouille. Parisian rodents must be excellent chefs. Pinky would have to find one someday.

If only he could walk into a giant cabinet that would magically transport him to a riverboat cruise on the Seine. He’d only gotten a mouthful of cobweb the last time he’d tried that.

Oh dear.

Pinky twirled in place, taking in the enormous apartment complex to his left and the grassy hillside across the street, both of which he didn’t recognize.

“Narf! Silly me.” Pinky bonked his fist against his noggin, leaving a slight ache behind.  “One of these days, I’ll definitely remember that ol’ left turn on Albuquerque Street!”

Well, the only thing he had to do was retrace his steps.

But he didn’t have sidewalk chalk or a pencil.

Pinky scratched his head. This was a lot harder than he thought. He was outside, so he couldn’t exactly follow the left wall of the maze until he got un-lost.

His stomach growled, and he had a sudden craving for between-twilight-and-midnight food pellets.

“Hush now, tummy. You’ll get your food pellets as soon as I find the lab again,” Pinky said, patting his growling belly.

A bowl of smoked food pellets seasoned with paprika and rosemary sounded good right about now. With a side of smoked cheddar too!

Pinky laughed. “You’ve really got a craving for smoked food, tummy! Can’t blame you there. Those smoked chicken wings on Food Network were absolutely mouthwatering yesterday. I’m so hungry I can smell those food pellets!”

And the food pellets smelled delicious indeed.

Pinky took a deep whiff, standing on his tippy-toes to drink it all in.

Until the scent changed and it smelled more oily than the yummy sort of smoke.

Pinky’s nose wrinkled. A faint plume of smoke rose from behind the grassy hill, but it was still a little early in the year for anyone to hold a campfire sing-along with s’mores.

There didn’t seem to be a fire. Or slightly burnt marshmallows for that matter.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Pinky crossed the street at the crosswalk because he was a good pedestrian and not a jaywalker. That was just silly. He was a mouse, not a blue jay.

He ran to the top of the hill and perched on a tree root, heels rocking back and forth for a moment until he found his balance. Then his jaw dropped at the sight of a gray and silver futuristic-y UFO just beyond the hill’s base. It had to be the size of two cages combined, maybe a little more.

He wasn’t really good at judging size, but the UFO thingy was ginormous.

Dirt piled high around its battered surface, like it plowed right into the ground at Pharfignewton-like speeds. Smoke trailed from two long cylinders that arched above its back, though there were no flames.

At least Smokey the Bear wouldn’t have to worry about any wildfires.

Pinky approached the wreckage, circling it twice out of sheer fascination. He didn’t see any string though. No wonder the UFO crashed. It didn’t have any string to hold it up.

“Hello, Mr. Alien!” Pinky shouted, hoping his voice carried through the metal to whoever was inside. He leaned against the UFO with both hands, placing all his body weight on his tiptoes. It felt great. He hadn’t stretched his shoulders like this in a while. All his focus had been going to strengthening his thighs recently. “I just wanted to let you know that your UFO string is missing! But it’s okay! I have an extra long ball of yarn back at the lab! Will that do?”

There was no response, though Pinky heard a plip-plop of dripping water when he pressed his ear against the UFO.

Suddenly, the metal hissed and shifted under his palms.

“Narf!” Pinky yelped as he pitched forward into the opening. His jaw thwacked against the floor, and he giggled at the tingly sensations that shot to the top of his head.

Propping himself onto his elbows, Pinky found himself in a room that was just as big on the inside as it seemed on the outside. Except everything seemed a little smashed up. Broken computers tilted against one wall, the screens cracked and displaying a random string of numbers and letters.

Orange soda dripped from an open panel to his left, forming a bubbly puddle on the floor. Pinky almost drank it, but figured it was a terrible idea because of the little metal bits mixed in. Orange soda went with pizza, not metal.

Pinky stood up and dusted himself off, then walked over to what seemed to be a smashed-up bedframe. There was an upturned mattress and a crumpled white blanket next to it. When he tried to turn them over and arrange them into a less messy position, he found they were rather scratchy and definitely uncomfortable for sleeping in. Whoever used this bed must’ve woken up every morning with a backache the size of Alaska.

As he tucked the last corner of the blanket into the mattress, several tiny blue things slipped out from the folds and bounced off his foot. When Pinky glanced down, he found there were a lot of tiny blue things scattered throughout the room.

He picked one up out of curiosity.

No, it wasn’t a thing. More like a tiny blue star. He touched it with his tongue, a sweet flavor taking over his taste buds entirely. It really packed a wallop. His tongue hadn’t felt this tingly since the time he’d eaten two entire packs of lemonheads! He popped several more tiny stars into his mouth, hugging himself from sheer bliss.

For a moment, it seemed like there was another voice agreeing with him on how fantastically delicious these tiny stars were.

Then it cut into a low groan, which didn’t sound like someone enjoying a snack at all. Pinky quickly swallowed the tiny stars and listened for the source of the noise.

“Narf! Hello?” Pinky called. “Are you an alien ghost? Or a ghost alien, Mr. Alien?”

Another groan. Maybe Mr. Alien didn’t know how to play Twenty Questions.

One of the computers shifted and crashed onto its side, a blue screen flickering in and out of existence. Parts of the splintered bedframe laid among the mess. A small, black-gloved hand poked out from among the tangled wires before falling limp again.

Pinky poked the hand.

It twitched.

“Awful hard to sleep under all those wires, don’t you think?” Pinky asked. “I mean, it would be so electric-y under there! Unless you’re an android ghost alien! Electric sheep only works for androids, I think. The rest of us count woolly, fluffy sheep.”

The mass of wires trembled, the hand closing around Pinky’s wrist. Though it was probably meant to be a tight grasp, it wasn’t a very good hold. A single movement could shake off the alien’s hand.

But Pinky stayed still. Something didn’t seem quite right.

The alien lifted his head, a pair of antennae with bouncy red orbs perking slightly.  

Antennae was a good name now that he thought about it.

“N-no’all?” Antennae murmured, the wires slipping off his large, chubby head. His bleary pink eyes stared through Pinky with desperate hope. Soot stained his messy fur with varying shades of gray, his pointed ears drooping and floppy.

“Poit. Do you not speak English?” Pinky asked. Antennae continued to stare, not seeming to understand. “I could get my language book from the lab. It’s got Spanish, French, Sea Lion, and Legalese! I’m learning a lot! Maybe it’s got your language too?”

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? “Wait, no! Maybe kissing would be much faster? That way my English flows into your mouth and voicebox! Is that how it works? I’m pretty sure that’s how it works…”

Antennae’s grip tightened, his lower half writhing in the wires until he shook himself free. From the neck down, he wore a sleek black bodysuit with red highlights that really made the color of his antennae and tail orbs pop.

Egad, he was tiny. Even Antennae’s antennae barely rose above Pinky’s chin.

Something green and golden glinted in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Pinky. Antennae stumbled as he got to his feet, wincing as he tried to put his weight on his heels. His eyes widened in panic, and he quickly let go Pinky, breathing rapidly as he wrapped both hands around the weapon’s handle.

Balancing on his toes, he shakily pointed the weapon at Pinky. He was trying to shove the red bulb into Pinky’s nose, which was a little rude to be honest, but couldn’t do much more than a light tap.  

“Are you okay?” Pinky asked, lifting his head so the bulb wasn’t smushing his nose. “Soot’s not really good for your complexion. Gives you all sorts of pimples and zits. That’s what Dr. Oz says, anyway.”

There were several clicks as Antennae repeatedly pulled a switch on the handle, but nothing happened. It clearly wasn’t working the way he expected. He growled in frustration, lowering his weapon and opening a compartment along the top. Then his eyes flicked to the puddle of orange soda on the floor and back to Pinky.

For the first time, Antennae noticed all the tiny blue stars that littered the ground. He whipped around in surprise, staring since he still didn’t understand, but the sudden movement made him lose his balance. Pinky caught him by the arm before he fell flat on his face.

The weapon slipped out of his grip, clattering to the floor. He cried out and swung his crooked tail into Pinky’s side.

“Zort!” Pinky yelped, more from the literal shock he’d received, than actual pain. His fur stood on end, like he’d just rubbed a balloon against it. When he pressed it down again, several tingling tickles lingered on his hand, making him giggle.

When he looked up, Antennae had limped over to the damaged remains of a shelf. But even walking across the room was too much, and he collapsed again.

The bodysuit had rips along the heels, exposing several painful looking cuts. Pinky couldn’t blame him for trying to stay on his tiptoes, even if it was a very awkward way to walk.

Antennae needed help. Pinky would have to carry him to the lab.

Pinky followed. He knelt and picked up Antennae, who weighed only slightly more than the small batteries Pinky liked to use as weights, since dumbbells were unfortunately too large for him. Antennae loosely held a baggie of the tiny stars close to his chest. There were several ripped baggies surrounding them. This seemed to be the only one that remained whole.

Cradling his head and back, Pinky set the baggie on top of Antennae’s chest, making sure the baggie was sandwiched between them before he set off.

Antennae’s head lolled against Pinky’s neck. The antennae orbs lit up with tiny sparks for just a moment, though Pinky didn’t get another burst of static. They faded back to a normal red within a few seconds.

He seemed…almost relaxed. At least his face wasn’t scrunched anymore.

As Pinky exited the UFO with his bundle, something bonked into the back of his head.

“Ouch!” Pinky nearly dropped Antennae and baggie in surprise. A tiny camera with a spinning propellor zipped into the night sky, recovering from its collision course quickly.

Some sort of alien tech too otherworldly for a regular genetically altered Earth mouse to understand? Pinky longed to ask, but he didn’t want to disturb Antennae.

Besides, he looked adorably pudgy while he slept.

Antennae made a small noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon.

The camera didn’t matter as much. Not when he just discovered that aliens snored.  

Pinky set off for the lab, determined to get the directions right this time.  

o-o-o-o-o

Good thing the dark, narrow alley filled with dirty cardboard boxes had been there! Pinky never would’ve known it was a shortcut to the lab if it hadn’t been for that stray cat. It was a miracle that Antennae hadn’t woken up once, or that the baggie survived the chase without any rips or spilling tiny stars.

The cat had given up the chase, deciding that whatever was in the dumpster would be more of a yummy meal.

Really, Pinky didn’t imagine he’d taste too good. He tried to lick his elbow a few times and all he got was a mouthful of fur.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to try to climb up to the mail slot. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for him to squeeze past, even with Antennae’s chubby head.  

Pinky shifted his hold to one arm, then grabbed the handle of the nearest drawer to pull them up to the counter. He had to set the baggie down, but Pinky could easily grab it once Antennae was settled comfortably in the cage.

It took a few unsuccessful tries of hauling himself up while holding onto Antennae before he realized it wasn’t going to work.

“Psst, Antennae,” Pinky hummed, gently shaking the alien’s shoulder. It would be a lot easier if Antennae clung to his back. “Wakey-wakey…”

Antennae’s face scrunched again, then he yawned and nuzzled into Pinky’s chest instead.

He looked so peaceful. It would go against Pinky’s little shoulder angel to wake him up now. What had he been thinking?

After a few minutes of searching through bottom drawers, Pinky found a soft kitchen sponge that hadn’t been removed from its packaging yet. It would make a perfect bed. Pinky pulled it out of the package, carefully maneuvering it out of the drawer while trying not to jostle Antennae too much.  

Another drawer had several white, fluffy hand towels. They seemed clean enough, so Pinky slung two towels over his free shoulder and climbed out.

He laid one of the towels on the floor, then pushed the sponge on top. Cold feet weren’t fun in the morning nor in show business. Then he laid Antennae on the sponge and covered him with the second towel.

Antennae’s hand clung to Pinky’s fur, so Pinky loosened the grip and tucked the wayward hand under the towel.

“You’ll be alright,” Pinky whispered, stretching out his sore arms. Maybe he’d carried Antennae for a bit too long. But Pinky’s arms would be ready for more wheel-running tomorrow.

Now that both of his hands were free, Pinky grabbed a bandage roll which had been lying near a Bunsen burner. He’d have to thank Mr. Bunsen for letting him borrow these bandages later.

Pinky carefully removed the socks – maybe they were more shoes? Oh, well. He removed the shoe-socks from Antennae’s feet and laid them on the towel-rug. Since Antennae hadn’t been on his feet since the UFO, the cuts seemed to be healing just fine.

Pinky carefully bandaged the heels and folded the towel-blanket over Antennae’s feet once he was finished. Then he brought the baggie of tiny stars over and placed them next to the shoe-socks.

He climbed up to the counter briefly to wash his hands, humming Happy Birthday as he lathered with the honey-scented soap.

“Thank you, Silver’s Anatomy,” Pinky said to the TV remote, which teetered over the edge of the VCR. He turned to Mr. Button, still lying on his straw bed in the cage. “Sorry, Mr. Button. I’m sleeping elsewhere tonight. Here, you can have Nicholas so you won’t be lonely. Try not to keep him up too late, okay?”

He rolled Nicholas the Nickel into the cage and settled him near Mr. Button. They seemed happy. Mr. Button would no doubt be gossiping about the ballpoint pens again.  

Pinky yawned and went back to the floor. It had been an eventful day, and he was very tired.

The towel-rug seemed very inviting…

Pinky buried his face into the towel fluff. Antennae had been twitching throughout Pinky’s counter business, but he stilled again once Pinky curled up.

Pinky fell asleep, dreaming of cheese and Pharfignewton and a deep, faraway voice. It was a lovely dream, except the voice couldn’t join Pinky and Pharfignewton in their little cheese and apple picnic. It seemed unwilling. Pinky made sure to save a few slices of cheddar and provolone for him. Maybe he’d take it afterward.

o-o-o-o-o

When the sunlight hit his eyes, Pinky leapt with joy. Early wheel runs were the best! So were mid-morning runs, and noon runs, and evening runs!

Except he couldn’t move. He could still wiggle his fingers and toes, but his hands were tied behind his back, purple yarn binding his ankles as well. His entire tail was still free though. He swished his tail just to be sure.

He shimmied over to the drawer and pressed his back against it, managing to sit up. Though he wanted to run on his wheel, being tied up was a fun game too.

Antennae wasn’t on the sponge bed though. Where was he? He was missing out!

Pinky wondered if he should just untie himself and find Antennae. The knots didn’t seem that hard. Though it was hard to tell for sure if it was a slipknot or an overhand knot. He really should’ve paid attention in knot-tying class.

Five minutes later, Antennae stomped over in his ripped shoe-socks, though little strips of bandage poked out.

Pinky smiled. If Antennae was stomping, his feet must be healing fast. And then he’d be okay again.  

However, Antennae didn’t seem to think so.

“Wipe that ridiculous expression from your face, Terran,” Antennae scowled, his foot tapping impatiently. “Hand over all the information you know. I want answers, and I want them now.”  

AN note: I’d like to give credit to @pluto-art for her wonderful drawing of Brain as a cute little alien.  With the way she posed him, I knew I wanted to incorporate that somewhere and this chapter seemed like a good place to do it! I meant to credit her last chapter for the blaster idea but I forgot so I’m rectifying that now.  

Fig’s off to the races! Literally.

After the wringer I stuck him through last chapter, Brain seriously needed some cuddles. He’s a little touch-starved. Also, he’s a bad guest. Don’t tie your friend up, Brain. That’s just rude.

[svankmajerbaby]

13, 20, 30, 40 !!

thank you so much for the ask!!!!!!

13.  Describe your writing process from idea to polished i’m not really sure, but i think i’d go something like this: i get the idea usually by either being obsessed with a property (whether it’s frankenstein, beetlejuice or barbie) or by thinking up characters and adding traits and backstory to them, and then thinking up possible dynamics for them to have with other characters. then, i try to figure out a particular context (place and time) that could fit these characters, and i make sure to think it up in such a way that it doesn’t really conflict with the source material (for my barbie-frankenstein fanfic, for example, i didn’t want to set it in early 19th century, because i wanted vivianna to be able to become barbara roberts at some point, and as such it was more comfortable to preserve the victorian aesthetic while also being closer to the 20th century); if there’s not a proper space and time these characters can feel comfortable in (whether because of a particularly tense political situation, persecution, or simply The Wrong Aesthetic Choice), i make up one. after that i begin to write dialogues and location descriptions, try to picture it all in my head as clearly as possible. then, after i have some scenes written and some interactions done, i try to organize them, thinking what should come first, what can lead to a good finale, what would be the most important moment for each character and so on. when this is done, i usually already figure out the ending and can structure everything to lead up to it. after that, it’s all a matter of sitting down and writing between the scenes i’ve already done, editing them and adding whatever new ideas i get in the meantime. usually this is what takes the longest, because by this point i’m losing steam and interest and become distracted by new projects... but sometimes i manage to finish it and by then the editing process starts on full, checking for any grammar or spelling mistakes, wrong pronouns or words or names, usually cutting down on redundant descriptions or dialogues, adding things if i think something is not clear enough or erasing things if they seem too on the nose, and then i do this over and over until i feel it’s good enough.

20.  How many WIPs and story ideas do you have? oh boy do i have plenty. i’ve sorta finished the first novel of the story of Olimpia Gómez -the first one is simply called “La Ejecutora, 1938″; i’m currently writing the second, the third and the fourth ones -”La Ejecutora, 1946″, “La Ejecutora, 1954″, and “La Ejecutora, 1966″ respectively. then i also have almost finished my stage adaptation version of “Corpse Bride”, which i renamed “Death and Marriage”. i’m a chapter away at finishing my toy story fanfic, “Sitting On The Shelf”. i’ve written a single chapter of a beetlejuice fanfic about the maitlands that i still haven’t found a proper name fore, but which i’m very excited about. i’m writing several chapters at once of a massive addams family fanfic, focused on most of the main family characters’ backstories or developments beyond the nineties movies, which i’m calling “Family Beyond Blood”. i’ve started a little princess tutu fanfic that i’m not sure if i should continue, but which is a stylistic deviation of what i’ve been writing so far, so that’s good. i’ve kind of abandoned another fanfic idea i had, “Vulnavia & Vulnavia”, from one of my favorite horror movies, “abominable dr phibes”, which i have to come back to... and like the madwoman i am, i’m planning on rewriting the star wars sequel trilogy, so i got that in my to do list, as well. besides those fanfics, i got a sci-fi novel being developed, called “Los Prototipos”, about two twins that escape the enclosure where they had been raised to find out they were being studied to make a single-minded working force (kind of like the replicants in blade runner) with an expiration date -all this set in a dystopic 1960s country somewhere in latinamerica, tackling issues of economic imperalism, forced labor and independece through revolution. this is one of my most political works, so i’m giving it a lot of space to breathe. i’ve also began some time ago a series of noir/horror short stories set in Buenos Aires, one of them based on a short movie script i’ve written, which i’m really excited to do -because i’m usually crap at writing short stories -but i’ve left it in standby until i finish the bigger projects first... and then I Have Scripts, Baby! “Mi Amiga Carolina”, about a possessed doll that emotionally manipulates a depressed teenager that moves alone into her grandmother’s old house; “El Moderno Prometeo”, a (mostly) faithful retelling of frankenstein set in Argentina, focused on the family drama of the frankenstein family and on the relationships between victor, daniela (justine, here being his older sister), quique (henry) and elsa (elizabeth); a screen adaptation of a novel of a friend of mine, “La Chica Que Trabajaba Los Sábados”, about a non-practising jewish woman in Buenos Aires who falls in love with a rabbi, and how their relationship ebbs and flows; and “Verano en los Manzanos”, about a boy who lives in rural Córdoba who falls in love with a girl from Buenos Aires (i try to write what i know, usually), and who as they grow up become a couple, have a kid, and ultimately wind up apart due to his struggle with depression and her own struggle with acute anxiety, all of this interweaved with his own return to the little forgotten village he grew up on, where he reflects on the life he used to have. so, in total... 16 WIP. plenty.

30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet i just now realized that i forgot to mention it in the last point, but technically i havent’ even started, so yeah, it’s just an idea: a series of sci-fi books about a parallel history in which India was the first country to go to the moon, and in which South America has the ASADE (Asociação Sul-Americana D’exploração Espacial), where they train cosmonauts to explore the vastness of space: set in an alternate 1930, a team of specialists on several fields and from several countries (the ones I got thought up already are captain Alfonsina Shua, from argentina, and copilot Adolfo Chaviano, from a paraguayan-argentinean couple) go on the fifth ever tripulated voyage. on an exploration, copilot Chaviano gets lost and disappears in space, cut off from his crew, and ends up going through a wormhole and crossing a threshold between sci-fi and fantasy of a blooming star -rendering him immortal but extremely radiated, which allows him to continue exploring space (ending up in several planets, registering his encounters with varied extraterrestrial cultures) while back in Earth the ASADE and his family try to locate him and bring him back home -it’s basically “The Martian” meets “The Little Prince”. and then, there’s the sequel series, about the three grandchildren of Adolfo Chaviano, who, after his death, discover that their grandfather had been developing a time machine alongside Alfonsina to go back in time and look for a way to revert the effects of the radiation in him, in order for him to live longer -and, perhaps, to find the way to become immortal and continue exploring the deepest limits of space. set in an alternate 1971, where space travel is now commonplace, the three siblings, Lena, Majo and Laucha embark on a space mission, meeting all sorts of new characters similarly affected by radiation and some mysterious magical/space properties, in order to find Alfonsina and ask her to give them one more chance to ask questions and say goodbye to their grandfather. so yeah, i got a lot of ideas, but i haven’t been writing any scenes yet -it’s still all in my head so far.

40.  Share some backstory for one of your characters well, the original character i’ve got developed the most is Olimpia Gómez (whose birth name is Beatriz Moreno), the orphaned daughter of two spanish union workers who were killed in the Semana Trágica on 1919 by the mysterious Society (of course, working in cahoots with the repressive government), and taken in by that same Society and raised to kill supposed “criminals and dangerous subjects”. trained in the countryside, taught to always be ready to die an honorable death for peace and justice while on duty, she’s taken to Buenos Aires to prove herself by stealth-killing the targets she is given, who she is told are people beyond salvation. she’s never been popular, but her closest friend, Eugenia Menéndez, always tries to get her to open up and join her own attempts at having a normal social life -which is quite difficult when being a spy and “executioner”. Olimpia has a boyfriend, fellow agent Evaristo Gutiérrez, but by the time they’re nineteen their relationship feels cold and strained, and at the same time there’s the pull of one of the most powerful members of the organization, Azucena Velázquez, daughter of two high-ranking agents: she’s kind-of out as a lesbian (only able to be so because of her high status), and has always been interested in Olimpia; Olimpia has to wrestle with her own internalized homophobia, feelings of guilt and bisexuality in order to finally decide who she wants to be, alongside her discovery of precisely how the Society is corrupt and extremely politically motivated when electing its “targets”, which leads Olimpia to try to escape it -despite knowing that the Society is everywhere, and if she can manage to escape, it’s because the Society allows it in the first place.

[teaandatale]

forgotten first meeting and either space au or roommate au for steggy?

57. forgotten first meeting & 22. Space AU or 12. Roommate AU

Well…  How about all three???

Sorry this took so long! Given my last two, I wanted to makesure this one was a decent ficlet length, and I realized I’ve had a sci-fi/spacedrought in the last year so it took a bit to get myself into the zone. This ismore of a collection of scenes, but I hope it gives you the gist of this ficmash up! Um… It’s quite long for a meme thing… So there’s a cut.

He’s not sure what he had exactly expected out of the Servicewhen he first joined up, but Steve sure hadn’t been expected to be halfway tothe outer belt aboard the most protected, secretive ship in the known galaxy, the U.S.S. SHIELD. He hadn’t expected an Earther like him would be tapped for a highly classified secret mission with the SSR. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was working his standard circuit between Earth, Moon Colony II & Mars Colony, patrolling for the usual contraband when the call came. A prepped mission just lost one of their crew members, and he was requested at behalf of the Service’s highly elite trained SSR squad to report for duty. Steve made his last stop, brought his second-in-command and best friend Bucky up to speed, and boarded the first transport ship out towards the Service base on Ganymede.

He also sure as hell hadn’t expected to be paired up with the woman that he had been half in love when they were just recruits nine years ago.

Peggy Carter hasn’t changed much in his eyes, at least not in her stature and attitude. Her hair was longer than it had been back then, worn loose unlike the pulled back regulations of recruit days. But those eyes, the quirk of her brow and the perfect red lips, he remembered them just like yesterday, when his breath hitched and he never quite recovered it.

The moment he locked eyes with her, he gets a giddy feeling in his stomach, both excitement and something like nostalgia.

“Agent Peggy Carter, Agent Steve Rogers, welcome aboard,” CommanderPhillips, an old familiar face, greeted them on the Command Deck. “You’ll be getting to know each other very well over the course of this mission, but we’ll start with the high-level objectives and schematics.”

There doesn’t seem to be any recognition in Peggy’s eyes, and she quickly turns away to focus on Phillips.

“The target of course is Hydra, as you’ve both crossed paths with them in the System.”

He tries not to dwell on it as Phillips pulls up the relevant mission documents. They’re joined by Howard Stark who Peggy does seem to recognize.

An hour later, preliminary brief under way, they are giving initial prep assignments aboard the ship.

“I look forward to working with you Agent Rogers,” Peggy says without any ounce of familiarity as she sticks her hand out to him. He tries not to take it personally, after all, why would she remember him from that night they properly met all those years ago.

Steve swallows his disappointment and shakes her hand back. “I look forward to it also, Agent Carter.”

“Now if someone could point me to my quarters, it’s been a long journey here,” she says.

Howard taps several times on his command screen then clicks his tongue. “We’re running a full crew right now given the situation. The mission team was paired in the same bunk room before you two got assigned to this in their stead. Looks like you’ll have to make due with bunking together. It’s at least private quarters, unlike all the juniors manning Comm stations. They’restill in the general barrack bunks.” He shrugs. “Good time as any to get toknow each other real well before you two go off on your own.”

He notices Peggy make a face for a moment, but she doesn’t comment. Bunking with a girl. Bunking with Peggy. Maybe he should offer to take a spot in the bunks.

“Fine,” she responds in a clipped tone. “Now if you please Howard, point us to our quarters.”  

The quarters are small, as to be expected, though he supposes he’d been a bit spoiled having decent quarters on his usual circuit ship. The two bunks are built into opposite walls, with a small workstation under each. The privacy away from the crowded bunkrooms was a privilege. And Stark was right. He and Peggy were really going to need to get to know each other if they were going to make the covert mission work.

“Do you have a preference?” he asks her of the bunks.

“I’ll take the right wall if you don’t mind.”

He nods. “Of course,” he replies and they both get to work unpacking their personal effects in silence.

Steve contemplated saying something to break the silence, but he wasn’t sure if that would be more awkward than just saying nothing. He’d shared bunkrooms with women before, but he’d never shared private quarters withone, and definitely not one he had a crush on.

He decides not to make the situation anymore awkward for Peggy, who he is sure is not thrilled about sharing with him, and decides to give her as much privacy as one can in a tiny space.

“I apologize if I’m a bit short,” he hears from across the room. He turns and sees Peggy holding her blanket. “It’s been a long and wild journey here for me, so I’m on hour 34 without sleep.”

“You’re kidding!”

She shrugs. “Duty calls, but we hit an uncharted asteroid field which had been a pleasure to map out until we discovered it was one of the forgotten mine fields from the War.”

He’s impressed. Not surprised. But still… Impressed. “Wow,” ends up as his response.

“I just mean that the last few days have been particularly stressful.”

“Of course,” he agrees quickly. “That is one hell of a voyage to manage on a good day. Well you should probably get some shut-eye while you can. I was gonna scope the ship out. I can bring some food back in a couple of hours.”

He’s rewarded with a sleepy smile from her, and he can feel his heart thump against his ribcage. “That would be lovely. Perhaps some coffee if you can find it?”

He smiles back. “You got it.”

*

That first night, alone in their quarters together is awkward, even though Peggy seemed to warm to him when he had delivered on his promise of coffee and food. She asked him about his work on the patrol route, and he gets to hear about the more lengthy intense covert ops that had led her to stints on pretty much every occupied planet and various lunar colonies. He asks her a lot of questions about undercover work, having only done a few of his, and mostly out of necessity than direct order from above. He keeps waiting for an organic moment where their shared past will come up, but it doesn’t. They have a stilted conversation about turning the lights off, and then in the darkness, hyper aware that she is only several feet away, Steve can’t sleep. He stares up blankly, listening to the sounds of Peggy tossing and turning to get comfortable. He wonders if she slept well during her nap, or if like him, found that so much space travel made his brain so dizzy it wouldn’t easily relax.

He thinks about Bucky, and considers sending him a message just to check up on him. He thinks about how he spent the long voyage her missing his mother. It had been a long time since he had so many uninterrupted hours to just think. He misses her every day, but he had missed her so intensely the farther he got away from Earth, in a way he hadn’t felt since her funeral.

The morning alarm comes to early, but he’s out of bed and doing his usual routine or stretches and warm-up before he remembers that he has a roommate. He had so easily pulled off his t-shirt as he normally would have for exercise, but he feels so suddenly naked without it.

A sleepy Peggy Carter is a sight to behold, her features so soft. But even sleepy, her eyes roam his chest and he flushes. He grabs for the shirt on the floor and pulls it on, not daring to look in Peggy’s direction until he’s done his pull-ups. She joins in his stretches, and when she lifts her arms high up, he has to look away from her as a sliver of skin at her stomach becomes visible, before he says or does something embarrassing.

It’s been a long time since he’d been on a long voyage like this. He was used to his shorter cycles, never in the same place for more than a week, not going longer than three or four days without a docking. They’re still a while out before their passenger ship is outfitted and ready to go. It gives them plenty of time to strategize and to catch the other up on their knowledge and run-ins with Hydra.

They spend most of their days together. Compiling notes on known Hydra assets. Visiting Stark to confer about the specs needed for their mission. They run flight simulations together, Peggy as the lead pilot, the role she will be taking, and Steve as both navigator and lead engineer. They work on their cover, and keep up physical exercise, and weapons training, all together. By the end of their third week in transit, they’ve developed a genuinefriendship. Steve still listens carefully every night as she gets comfortablein her bed, listening for the sound of her breathing evening out before hefalls to sleep.

*

Two weeks after the success of their first covert trip, the test run Stark insisted upon before they flew off toward the Outer Belt alone, as goes to hell onboard the U.S.S SHIELD. They backtracked to Jupiter as the upheaval at Mars Colony played out. Phillips was apparently concerned about the powers at play, and was called back in the event a true skirmish arose. Which was perfect time for their main comm system to go down. As the Command Deck scrambled to boot up secondary and tertiary systems without compromising their position, Steve jumped below deck with Stark to try to recover the main system.

“Steve? Any progress?” he hears Peggy ask on their local two-way.

“Slow going Peggy,” he says with a sigh.

He hears her sigh too. “It’s not looking good. Phillips’ is navigating blind and the Mars situation seems to be getting worse.”

“Riots?”

She hums. “We’re picking up gun ships on the long-range. No accurate reading though with the system so intermittent.”

“Shit.”

He and Stark exchange a look. They have Peggy confirm output levels as they work, hearing as the situation gets more and more tense, with a three-gunship fleet sent out ahead to make better assessment. She gives them updates as she assists the crew upstairs. The repair takes hours, but they get it done.

“Peg we got it! Should be live any second!” He doesn’t wait for her response before rushing back over to her.

There’s a cacophony of noise on the Command Deck when Stevefirst reaches it, followed up a sudden eerie silence as the newsfeeds come back up, and the screens report the live images. He gasps along with the rest of them with the fiery images of ships under fire. The distress calls of one ofthe fleet’s gunships comes too late. He feels Peggy’s hand on his arm, but hecan’t even focus on it when he sees another disturbing image. A patrol ship, with an emblem of a star encased in concentric circles. Destroyed. His patrol ship. Bucky. Destroyed. The Honorary First Avenger patrol ship destroyed as it made a play to intercept fire at civilian passenger ship bound for Earth. Bucky…

“Steve.”

He doesn’t recognize that he’s the one hyperventilating until she calls his name. He looks at Peggy but sees nothing. Her hand is still onhis arm.

“Steve.”

“That’s my…” He can’t breathe. He wants to scream. “Bucky.”

The look she gives him is too painful to look at.

“No! No!”

Something squeezes his arm. “Steve, please! Please. Stay with me here. Breathe please. Please.”

He tries to follow her breaths, but between the chaos in his head and the tears streaming across his face, he can’t be here. He should have been there. It should have been him not Bucky. He pulls away and runs. He runs all the back to their quarters. He starts to scream into the void of the empty room, pounding his fist into the wall. He’s never so wished he had private quarters until this very moment. How can he have a breakdown and scream and cry and mourn and hate when he has to share a room with someone? How is he supposed to keep this all in check? How is his best friend dead?

Steve’s lost track of everything. Time. Space. His own body. Everything hurts so much that at this point his muscles feel numb. He jumps when the door opens. Peggy looks at him mournfully. He wipes his hand roughly across his face, clenches his jaw and wills himself not to show further emotion. She comes and sits down next to him on the floor. He doesn’t remember getting there. Was he not in his bunk?

Peggy puts her hand in his and pulls him close to her. He feels like she’s waiting for something, but Steve doesn’t move or say anything. Neither does she. After a while, he feels her hands slide up his arms. He blinks away more tears that have formed and watches her look at him. His shoulders are still heaving when her hands come up to touch them. He tries to still his uncontrollable body.

She comes close and without warning, her lips are on high on his cheekbone. The next moment she’s ushering him into his bunk. He feels like a scolded puppy sent to its cage. He turns over towards the wall with a frown. But then he feels something warm behind him.

“I’m so sorry Steve,” Peggy murmurs into his ear, pressing her lips again his jaw. She curls into him, her arm around his waist, her head resting against his shoulder. The rest of his defenses fall and he lets her hold him, turning so that they’re facing each other. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats as he sobs again, this time against her chest. “I’m here for you. I’m right here with you Steve.”

They spoon all night. She doesn’t leave in the morning. Peggy continues to weaver her fingers through his hair, and rub her hands down his back. But she doesn’t leave. They get up to clean themselves up, to force food into him, and for Peggy, a brief check-in up at Command where things have cooled significantly. Steve worries he’s all alone again.

But then Peggy comes back and climbs into bed with him. He doesn’t give a shit anymore. He presses his fingers into her hips and pulls her against him. When she curls her hand around his neck, he shudders and buries his face against her shoulder. Their bodies twist close together in the tiny bunk, warmth pooling between them. She lets him grip her close like his life depends on it. He thinks it might.

He dreams of the night they met.

It was at the canteen late one night after a long day of training simulations and ship duties. She’s one of three women on the ship. She’s been there for two weeks longer than the rest of them. So when Hodge, a brick head of a bully at the best of times, makes a pass at her and then tells her she can serve under him once he’s Captain of his own ship real soon because trust him, his dad’s got money so he’s sure of a promotion in a hurry, she gives him a calm request of an apology. He snorts and reaches for her ass. He’s barely made contact when she grabs his wrist, twists and then lands a punch to his jaw so quick and clean Steve’s mouth drops in wonder and quite honestly adoration. Hodge stumbles with the force of the hit and falls flat on his ass. A couple of his friends try to help him out, while the rest mostly look away not wanting to get involved. Hodge pushes his friends hands away, and red-faced marches towards her. She doesn’t look fazed but Steve finds himself there blocking his way before he can realize what’s happening.

 “Easy there Hodge you don’t want to embarrass yourself a second time huh?”

 “You stay out of it you pipsqueak Earther.”

 It stings, like those comments always have, but he’s used to it. Had nineteen years of the like.

“That’s really original. No wonder they haven’t promoted you yet. Or is that just because your dad doesn’t have connections to Commander Phillips so your stuck proving your worth the same as they rest of us? Now if you’ll excuse me, now that your seat is vacated I wanted to get a drink.”

 Hodge’s buddies talk him out of causing trouble and he walks out. Beating Steve up in front of plenty of witnesses at the canteen won’t earn him any favors. Everyone knows Phillips is a hard ass with no humor for nonsense. And Steve bets if Hodge did get in trouble, Steve would be right there with him for instigating it. It would have been worth it for the amused look Peggy Carter gives him alone.

 “He’s a fun one isn’t he?” He finds himself commenting. It’s odd for him because he’s never really been able to talk to girls before. And here’s the most gorgeous one he’s ever met and he can’t stop his mouth.

She arches her brow, the amused look still present. He feels heat at the back of his neck and to avoid further making awkward motions, hefiddles with the drink he didn’t really want but felt compelled to get.

They sit there side by side in silence.

 “Don’t listen to him,” he hears her say after a moment. He’s not sure what this advice is in reference to. To his harassment of her? “Not all of us come from the high life of Mars Colony.”

 He’s surprised, pleasantly so, feeling a tug of connection with her already.

 “You’re an Earther?” he asks excitedly. She’s the only other Earth-born that he’s met in his almost year with the service.

 She nods. “Yes. I was born in London. Where are you from?”

 “Brooklyn,” he tells her.

 “That’s lovely. I’ve only been to Brooklyn proper once myself but visited New York frequently as a young child. My father was based there for a while.”

He dreams of how they talked for hours before they had to get shut-eye before morning duty. He dreams of how he had been so excited to talk with her again.

When he wakes up, after their third night of sleeping together, Steve kisses her once. Soft, gentle, quick. He feels too raw for anything more. Her closeness and her caring of him is a gift. They turn until they face each other, Peggy playing with his hair.

“We’ve met before,” he tells her, his voice rough with disuse. Her eyebrow quirks but she lets him continue. “On the U.S.S. Valkyrie. We were both recruits. At the canteen. You punched Gilmore Hodge. Remember him?”

She bites her lip as she thinks. “Yes, though it’s a little hazy. There have been a lot of assholes in my path.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I understand. It was almost ten years ago.”

She bites her lip as she thinks some more. “Wait. The canteen. We talked about Earth. I told you about my brother Michael.”

He nods, and the first small smile in days forms on his lips. “Yeah, your fighter pilot brother Michael.”

“You told me about your Mum. A nurse making ends meet. Why didn’t you come find me again?”

He sighs. “Two days later I got a call from the hospital Maworked at. She was dying. The Service granted me a leave of absence. She died three months later. I came straight back to the Valkyrie. You were already gone.”

Peggy kisses him, so gentle, so full of warmth it makes him cry again. She doesn’t seem off put by the tears. “The stars are not always inour favor. But I’m so glad they found us here together despite all things.” Henods numbly in response. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you Steve Rogers.”

He shrugs. “We’re here now.”

Peggy laces their fingers together. “We are here together. And I won’t leave you alone for anything. Not for all the galaxies inthe universe.”

[ambernicole90]

Tightrope

Misfortune had often followed Hannah Simms, even from the time she was a young child. At least, that’s what she’d always been told. Born the daughter of a blacksmith in London, Hannah’s life had been one far from wealth and extravagance, though where money lacked it was made up for in love and happiness. Life was good for the Simms family, until suddenly and without warning, it wasn’t. 

When Hannah was ten years of age a strain of influenza plagued the city in which she lived, infecting hundreds of people. Her father and herself were spared, but her mother wasn’t as fortunate. The sickness hit her swiftly and took her just as fast, leaving Hannah and her father all on their own. It was difficult for the both of them, but in true British fashion, they carried on, for there was simply  no other option. 

As the years went by Hannah and her father settled into a new normal, so to speak. Her father continued his work at the blacksmith shop and Hannah did the best she could to maintain the household all the while taking on small odd jobs to help make ends meet. Life wasn’t perfect by any means, but they managed well enough. They were happy, and after such a long and difficult few years, things finally seemed to be looking up for Andrew and Hannah Simms. And then once again, Hannah’s world came crashing down around her.

Hannah would always remember that day as cold and rainy, but then, most days in November were cold and rainy, especially in England. But this day in particular had held a sort of ominous feeling from the moment she awoke. The young woman had tried to brush it off as she went about her daily tasks, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. When the soldier dressed in the bright red coat appeared at her door around midday to inform her of her father’s sudden death and offer his condolences, Hannah’s feeling was all but confirmed. She barely even heard the words that escaped the man’s lips after he uttered the apparent cause of death. It was as if she were under water and her ears were ringing all at the same time., the only sound that wasn’t muffled was the pounding of her heart. Her father was gone, just like that, in the blink of an eye. A heart attack took her father with no warning and gave her no chance to say goodbye. 

In the days that passed after her father’s death, Hannah moved numbly through the necessary tasks. There had been a funeral, of course, though Hannah barely remembered a word the minister spoke in the eulogy. She didn’t remember a word of comfort or sympathy spoken by friends and neighbors after the burial, nor did she remember the walk home from the cemetery, save for the fact that it was raining. Her cloak was soaked through by the time she slipped through the door to her small house well after dark. It wasn’t until she went to start a fire in the hearth that the gravity of the last few days came crashing down on her. After going through all of the motions and preparations, Hannah hadn’t found the time to cry or to grieve, but now as she stared at the old rocking chair by the fireplace where her father always spent evenings after a hard day’s work, Hannah found she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away, for as quickly as she did a new batch came sliding down right behind them. It was at this moment that Hannah realized she was alone, truly alone.

Though it was expected of her to take a few days for herself to grieve and come to grips with her loss, Hannah did the opposite. She threw herself into her work, cleaning the home from top to bottom and going through her father’s possessions to donate what she could to the less fortunate. It was difficult, but a necessary task as she found she just couldn’t bear to see her father’s things lying around the house when she knew he’d never come home again. Keeping his Bible and a few other precious items to herself, Hannah sent the remainder of his clothing and shoes to the church where she knew they’d be put to good use. As for her own possessions, Hannah began to purge them as well. She kept only the dresses and bare essentials for herself and sent the rest along with her father’s, for where she was going she wouldn’t need them. 

Hannah had found living in the house alone to be quite difficult. It was taking a toll on her emotionally as well as financially, as she hadn’t the means to pay for the rental of the lot the house was on. Of course, she was given a grace period to get her affairs in order, but Hannah knew the best thing for her was to move on and look for a new opportunity. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to look far as word had traveled that a ship would be setting passage to the Americas in a few days' time. It certainly didn’t give the young woman much time to prepare, but she knew it wasn’t impossible. After all, she had few possessions to pack, and she had a bit of money saved up for her fare and to get herself by for the first little bit after her arrival. Hannah knew that finding employment would be relatively easy as she wasn’t picky nor afraid of hard work, and there were plenty of boarding houses and pubs in the Colonies just as there were here in London, so she would at least have a place to rest her head at the end of each day until she found more permanent lodgings. This was the perfect, she would be a fool to pass this opportunity up!

Still, as Hannah finished putting her affairs in order and tying up loose ends, she couldn’t help but feel anxious and fearful. Was she making the right decision? Was it wise to leave everything she’d ever known, a town full of friends and acquaintances for a land of uncertainty? Hannah didn’t allow herself to dwell on these thoughts for too long as she feared if she did she’d back out of her plans only to live in regret of not taking the plunge for the rest of her life. After all, London had nothing to offer her anymore. With no immediate family or a suitor, there was nothing tying Hannah down. 

On the morning of her departure, Hannah could scarcely shake her fear and anxiety of the voyage that lay ahead. Many times on the walk to the wharf she considered handing off her place on the ship to someone else so she could look for work in London, but she did her best to push those thoughts aside. “No, that wouldn’t do at all.” She told herself as she continued on. “If you turn back now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, Hannah Grace. You’re going to get on that ship and cross that ocean and you’re going to start a new life for yourself. “ She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but when had her life ever been one of ease? 

With determination, Hannah quickened her pace toward the docks where the large ship was waiting. Her heart was beating out of her chest and her breath shallow as she got closer and closer, keeping her eyes on the ship. If she looked back now she knew it’d be all over. No, this ship was the key to her future and she’d be damned if she let this opportunity slip through her fingers. 

As Hannah stepped on to the ship, she felt her anxiety and fears of uncertainty begin to wash away. The butterflies in her stomach disappeared and any feeling of dread she may have had was replaced with excitement and anticipation. As the anchor was pulled up and the ship began to drift from the docks, Hannah was nearly overwhelmed with a sense of peace. If she was in doubt before about her decision to leave, she certainly wasn’t now. This was right, this was exactly where she was meant to be, and as she watched London fade into the horizon, she looked only to the new opportunities that awaited her in America.

[dragon-kazansky]

No such thing as coincidence: Jack Sparrow x reader - part 19 END

Summary: Your life will never be the same again.

"Something personal?" You hear Gibbs ask.

You reached into the chest and pulled out an envelope, one in great condition. The chest clearly protecting it all this time.

"A letter?"

"Is that it?"

"That's treasure?'

You turned the envelope around and saw a Phoenix emblem was seal. You felt your heart racing just by looking at it.

Jack peered over your shoulder curiously.

"Open it." He whispered.

You broke the seal and flipped it open, a letter tucked away inside. You pulled it out and unfolded it. The nearest handwriting you had ever seen filled the page.

My dearest daughter,

If you found this then you have travelled a long way from home to seek me out. I can only imagine what awaits you on the journey to my chest.

The very idea of treasure fills a pirate with a need to seek it out and pillage it for all it's worth. That's the life of a pirate, to travel great lengths for whatever we can claim as our own.

I'm sure you have a lot of questions and I'm sorry to say I cannot answer them. I wish more than anything that we could be together, to travel the seas and pillage on our own adventures, but I am not there.

I'm sure a part of you will be disappointed to see that chest contained a letter, but the real value lies within the adventure. You have the blood of a pirate. Be free to make your own choices, take what you can and give nothing back.

I wouldn't leave you without a little something for all your hard work. I leave to you a vessel currently under the care of a friend of mine. Assuming he still has it when you get this, you'll find his address below.

I also leave to you the chest. That's real gold melded onto it, worth a pretty penny.

Of course, I finally leave to you my name. I did a lot in my life, met many a pirate. Carry my name with you and you'll be surprised by what they may have for you.

You're your own captain.

With love,

Your father. RH.

You wiped away the tears that had begun to fall from your face. You took deep breaths as you lowered the letter, your voice trailing off at the end.

"He left you a ship!" Gibbs sounded surprised.

"How much do yo reckon the chest is worth?" You heard a crew member ask.

"Lots!" Someone replied.

"You can have the chest." You sniffled, looking at Jack. "Share the worth with your crew."

"What about you, love? He left all this to you."

"I don't need the vessel. Barbossa, you need a ship don't you? Perhaps you could visit this man and see what it is, I'd be honoured to have you captain my father's ship." You smiled.

"I'd be honoured, lass, but don't you want to be captain?"

You shook your head, "I'm happy remaining a member of Jack's crew, if he'll have me."

Jack grinned, "You can stay forever, love."

"Anyway, I got share much more with you all!" You grinned.

"What's that?" Will asked.

"The adventure. I got to live like a pirate!"

The crew gave a cheer.

You left the chest sitting there open and turned to Jack. He looked down at you with a soft grin.

"Not disappoifornted?"

"No. If I wasn't who you said I were, I'd never have ended up in this position. Meeting you is one my biggest honours, Jack. I want to be part of your crew and sail across that horizon with you." You smiled.

"Love, I would be glad to have you on board." He stepped close to you. "I don't need any gold if I have you, you're the most precious thing to come out of this voyage." He whispered closely to your lips. "I've only ever had feelings for one other person before." His arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against his chest.

"I love you, Jack." You smiled.

"I love you." He grinned.

His lips met yours and you cousin care less that the entire crew could see you kiss their captain.

Within the next several weeks, you had sold off the chest and given a fair share of the earnings to the crew. There had been plenty to go around. They were as happy as could be.

You travelled with Barbossa to fetch that vessel which ended up being an impressive ship with some of your father's belongings on it. Barbossa allowed you take any possessions you wished to have to remove your father by, you gave him what was left. He couldn't thank you enough for giving him a ship.

You kept the key as a keepsake. It never left your neck. The Phoenix would be your emblem now and you took your father's name as your own. Pirates who heard it had much to offer.

Jack Sparrow, the infamous pirate, had fallen in love with a woman he saved from a ship. He spent all he hours every day in your company, teaching you everything you needed to know to survive on the seas.

Will and Elizabeth married aboard the Black Pearl.

They were dropped off onto an island far from anyone they knew to live out the rest of their days. Will had spent enough time being a pirate apparently, but you promised to visit.

It would be a few months more before Jack ran thought about marrying you on his beloved ship. For now he was content to travel the Caribbean with you at his side.

One night as the stars shone above, you turned to your beloved captain and asked, "What does the compass point to for you?"

Jack grinned and replied, "it hasn't stopped pointing at you since we met, love."

There was no such thing as coincidence, only fate.

For the first time in his life, Captain Jack Sparrow felt truly lucky. He would fight tooth and nail to keep you safe, because you were the one thing he loved more than the sea and his Pearl.

"Where to next?"

Jack held us a map.

"I stole this from the archives of a man we met in town. I have no clue what it leads to, but it's all about the journey isn't it, love?"

"Aye, Jack." You grinned. "Which way?"

"Head for the horizon." He stood beside you as you took to the helm. "All hands on deck!" He yelled.

The crew ran to their stations.

Another adventure lay on the horizon.

A pirates life to you.

The end!

Thank you all for reading this story!

Tags:

@myownviperroom @toasterking @imsarahsexual

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Seven

       "Good morning, princess."

       I smiled at his text, replying back with tired eyes. "Good morning, princey."

       Murdoc had texted just a few minutes after my 6:00am alarm. I was finishing my breakfast when he messaged back and I placed my dishes in the sink. "Plans today?"

       "Working from eight to five at the café, you?"

       "Damn, I'm heading into work as well. Perhaps I could visit during my lunch break?"

       "Haha, I don't see why not."

       I began to wash my dishes, including Cassidy's leftover breakfast as well. I put them away one after the other and carried on my usual morning routine. I had a quick shower and fixed my hair, putting on my uniform before brushing my teeth. I got back to Murdoc's text as I headed out the door. "Then I can't wait." It made my morning.

       Despite working in London, this café didn't get any busy days. Surprisingly, the busiest days we got were on Saturdays and I didn't even work a lot then, so I never really saw how many costumers typically stopped by. There were usually three workers at a time, leaving me plenty of shifts to get in extra hours if I wanted and wasn't too busy with my other jobs. My manager wondered if I could juggle three jobs at a time but she didn't know how desperate I was for both money and distraction. From many, many things.

       I worked as both a cashier and waitress at the café. I even stocked shelves a few times, but there were never many shelves to stock considering how small the place was. It was a simple desk with one register, a display case, and only five tables, not including the front window where we kept the highchairs. That's probably why I loved it so much. I actually got paid well enough to stand and not do much of anything most of the time.

       "Hey, (Y/N)," I heard from behind me. I turned to find my coworker setting a box down and turning into the other room, most likely to get another one.

       "Hey, Lawerence."

       He came back out, stacking boxes of food for me to show off. "How're your other jobs doing?" He was a lanky green-eyed kid with long brown locks and warm, pink skin drowning in countless freckles. He was only twenty and he just started working a few months ago. We talked every now and then but it never went anywhere, I couldn't even call each other friends yet. You could say he was your stereotypical hipster if I'm being honest.

       "They're alright, but you know this shift's my favourite for obvious reasons," I said, struggling to converse.

       He smiled at me, looking out at the empty tables with understanding. "Well, nobody else was able to come in, so would you mind stocking these while I fetch a few more boxes?"

       "No problem," I smiled.

       I had many opportunities to make friends around me, but none who I thought would want to deal with me. We could hang out until they found out about my drinking problem and soon enough, I would be alone again; like everyone I knew before I hit rock bottom. But meeting somebody from the clinic who actually understood the struggle of quitting really lifted a weight from my shoulders. When I went into work I felt like it was another job to try and make friends, but I finally knew I didn't have to do anything apart from the actual job I was being paid to do. I just had to keep at it and be respectful, which made me feel a lot better realizing.

       I spent the next few hours charging and serving customers, putting things away little by little as Lawerence worked in the back. "(Y/N)! Help me lift something!"

       I turned on my heel and walked through the back to give Lawerence a hand when I heard somebody walk through the front door, the same familiar bell notifying our assistance. Lawerence and I hauled the box towards the front and I glanced back, "I'll be right there!"

       As I set our items on the ground, I heard a familiar voice address me. "(Y/N)?" I could hear him smiling. I instantly straightened my back and looked across the other side of the counter.

       "Murdoc!" I exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

      "What? Thought I was joking when I said I'd come see ya?"

       All I did was smile and lean on my folded arms. "Would you like to order anything?"

       "Just a large black coffee," he said. I placed the order and handed him his cup.

       "3.50."

       "Aww, you're not gonna give it for free?"

       "Nah, I'd rather keep my job, but maybe some other time," I smiled.

       He chuckled and pulled out change from his pocket, leaving me to count it for him. He left me at my station to get his drink and on his way to his table, he leaned against the counter. "You're free to join me for lunch," he said.

       Looking up at him I sighed. "Not sure if that's very professional," I winced.

       "Who cares about profession," he rolled his eyes. "Nobody's here, anyway."

       I shook my head slowly and gave in, picking a muffin from the glass case beside me and following him to the table at the very back. He pulled out a chair for me and I laughed at his gentlemanly behaviour, sitting down. He took his seat across from me and sipped his coffee. I wondered how one could ever stomach black coffee but figured asking would be pointless. "How did you know where I worked?"

       "Told me the last night," he answered.

       "Right," I corrected myself. The night before was a blast. Murdoc's vision of a hangover cure was multiple glasses of water, juice and caffeine with sunglasses and a movie marathon. I couldn't pay attention to any of the classics that played, they were simply playing in the background as Murdoc and I conversed, telling each other about ourselves. I learned a lot about him; his religion, what interests him, random facts. He told a lot of stories, too, and I didn't remember the last time I had laughed so hard with somebody. Whenever it was my turn to speak, I felt bad. I didn't have anything to say but he still seemed almost hypnotized by anything I said. I didn't understand his patience, but I was grateful. "What've you done today?"

       "Helped a few people think of lyrics and what-not." I watched him shift his cup, focused on the coffee stirring around inside.

       "Is that an everyday thing? Are you a producer?"

       "Oh, no, I'm nobody important," he said. "All I do is organize files, as I said before."

       "Oh, come on, organizing files is just as important as writing the lyrics."

       Murdoc chuckled, taking another sip of his coffee. "I guess it can be," he gave in. "What about you? How long have you worked here?"

       "Not long, actually. I've had quite a few jobs before the ones I have now. I've only worked here for about a year."

       Murdoc nodded and it became quiet between us. "Ever thought of getting out of here?" he asked.

       "A lot . . . a lot, a lot, a lot . . . Never had the money to, though." I didn't consider where the question came from, so out of the blue like that. All I could think of was how strong of an answer I had. Nearly every second - morning, noon, night - I would contemplate the day I'd finally leave London, England and start over somewhere else; somewhere fresh and new and away from all the poor memories I made in that Hell hole. "What about you?"

       "Plenty . . . I've actually been quite a few places," Murdoc answered.

       "Really?" I replied with interest. "Where?"

       "All over Europe, America . . . Even visited Canada and Asia a few times . . . It was a job thing."

       "I never knew you had a travelling job," I said. I began to daydream, wondering what it was like for him to get around so much. It must've been amazing checking out different landscapes and cultures, meeting new people everywhere you went.

       "Yep, I've even spent months overseas . . . far away from here. Though travelling gets a little bothersome nowadays." I snapped out of my daze, confused at how bored he could get hopping from one country to another that much. "I-I mean, I'm grateful, of course, but there's the packing and airports and bumpy roads and difficult weather . . ." he rambled.

       "Damn . . ." I sighed. "I don't think I could ever not be excited to leave and voyage all over the world."

       "Maybe I'll bring you with me eventually and you can see for yourself how stressful touring can be," Murdoc chuckled.

       I laughed back, shaking my head. "I've never been on a plane before . . . and I don't remember the last time I went on a boat," I said, biting my lip with a sudden nervous whole in my stomach.

       "It may seem scary at first, but it's actually pretty fun. It's pretty luxurious," he smirked. "Y'know, people bring you appetizers and beverages, you can listen to music, watch a movie . . . And if you're brave, you can look out the window and look at the breathtaking view," he expressed.

       I smiled at his appreciation of nature, trying to picture all the recollections he was remembering. I couldn't help but feel a strong urge to be apart of his journey. "How long have you been home?"

       Murdoc took a second to think about it, "A few years. Um . . . The band I mainly worked with took a little hiatus so I haven't been working a lot lately. They've gotten around to seeing each other, however, so I'm beginning to help them more and more with songs . . . It'll be a bummer when I leave again, though."

       "What, you're not ready to take a lavish cruise around the world again?"

       Murdoc chuckled to me, "It's not that . . . Touring isn't even all it's cracked up to be." His smirked faded, "I'm just not ready to . . . I don't know . . . Leave what's comfortable, I suppose."

       My smile dropped the slightest, but I still tried to remain bright. "What'll you be missing when you're gone?"

       "As much as I hate to admit it . . . you know me," he added, ". . . but therapy . . . It's more helpful and not as stupid of an idea as I always imagined . . . It's actually pretty eye-opening to listen to others who go through what you go through, y'know?" I nodded, remembering back to last night. Murdoc had expressed a lot about himself, including his self-aware stubbornness, ignorance and tendencies to lack cooperation; and therapy was no exception. "I'd also miss you . . ."

       "M-me?" I questioned with surprise. Murdoc looked up with a rather nervous expression but quickly smirked at my response. "I-I mean . . ."

       He laughed, holding up his mug, "I honestly don't think I've met somebody who understands me more . . . It's nice having friends that listen to you, of course, but bonding with somebody who really gets it hits differently." I sat in near awe, trying to blink the surreal feeling out of my head. "Thanks for that," he concluded. This was very hard for me to process - somebody like Murdoc acting so out of character he felt like a totally new person. "I may be a reserved man, but I know how to show gratitude and thanks," he said, catching onto my bewilderedness. "Though, I barely tell anybody that cheesy bullshit about therapy and friendship, let alone act so soft, so don't think this corny stuff is staying." That would explain a lot, I told myself.

        We were startled by a sudden bell ringing, started both me and Murdoc. Conditioned stimulus rose my head to the door, causing me to shoot up from my spot in alarm. "I-I'm sorry, I've gotta . . ." I said, pointing to my next costumer. Murdoc excused me with a shrug and I quickly made my way over to the cash register, apologizing for my absence and serving the consumer before they left. I looked back at Murdoc who had risen from his seat and made his way over to me.

       "I should probably head out," he said, leaning towards the exit. "I'll see you soon though, I hope," he smiled.

       "Yeah, sure," I smiled back.

       He gave me a small wave and I couldn't help but laugh. "Farewell," he said, leaving through the door.

       I walked home after my shift completely exhausted and a disgusting sweaty mess. I entered my apartment, proceeding to make myself supper in time for Cassidy to be home as well.

       "I saw a recipe for chicken with a red wine sauce," she texted me.

       I gave in, "Sure thing :)." I'd just have chicken without the sauce, it's as simple as that. Although pulling out wine from under the sink was tempting, to say the least, I knew it wasn't worth it. I ignored my shaking bones and swallowed my drool, preparing our dinner.

       Ever since I met Cassidy I always pondered if she knew about my addiction. Even if there was never any closure, there were definitely signs and hints towards my unhealthy relationship with drinking, and I knew she wasn't dumb enough to ignore red flags, right?

       The front door abruptly opened, disturbing my peace as I spun around with panic. "Hey, (N/N)," Cassidy smiled from the entrance.

       I calmed myself down, wondering how deep in thought I was to not hear the door unlock in the first place. "Hey," I responded with a smile.

       I looked back down at the pan in front of me, Cassidy catching a whiff of her meal. Both of our stomachs growled, mine craving more than just the chicken. "Smells good," she complimented. I know, I thought.

       "Well, it's done," I concluded, turning off the stove and grabbing two plates from the cabinets.

       Cassidy walked over and took her portions, leaving me with the rest. As I put my plate together she addressed me, "You're not gonna have any of the sauce?"

       I looked up at her, "Nah . . . Not that hungry."

       "If you say so," Cassidy shrugged. She sat at the dining table, but I felt my heart sink in my chest, as well as lightheadedness from the scent of my demons in the air. I left her alone in the kitchen and quickly escorted myself to my bedroom where I closed the door and rubbed my eyes.

       Rehabilitation was never easy. It looks so effortless when you're standing on the outside, but I didn't know what I was in for when I started taking therapy. If I wanted to, I could've gone into the kitchen then and there and drank until I choked on my vomit before blacking out. It was always easier to give up, but I didn't get as far as I did by falling back into my routine again, did I?

       I distracted myself with dinner and my laundry, cleaning up after myself for the first time in another long week. However, when you're picking up the pieces of your distressing life, it's hard to find a reason not to ignore it and let it destroy you more and more. At that point, I felt like anything and everything I did, no matter where I turned, I would always find a reason to drink rather than find a reason to live anymore. Nothing felt worth staying for that night . . .

       Except for Murdoc.

[skip-to-my-lup]

Auld Lang Syne

It's the night before Faith and Clarence are to leave for Ohio, and Clarence can't say that he's all that excited.

He isn't regretting his decision to go, though. The very idea of Faith going off on his own to a new place soured his stomach the first time he heard it. And, despite knowing that he's going with him, Clarence's heart still aches for his friend because he'll have to turn right around and return to England for the last of their belongings.

Clarence is confident that Faith will be able to handle himself— he does have a lot of work ahead of him after all. But, there's no telling what might happen to Faith while attending to his half of the Chrysalis by himself. Sure, nothing had happened so far, but if Cora's concerned glances were anything to go by, he can't be the only one worrying about this unknown.

Clarence sips his tea.

If he were as much of a drinker as Florence, he'd have drank away all of his worry by now. But, he never could in good conscious do so unless he knew for a fact that his skills were unneeded. And, considering recent revelations, it isn't likely that he'll feel that confident again for a long time.

For now, in this moment, all he can do is try his best to enjoy the company of his new and old friends tonight.

Edgar had attempted to rent the whole of The Bear for their odd group. (Clarence is still unsure of whether Edgar knows the reputation of this particular pub to understand the irony of its name, though he certainly will not be the one to clue him in on it.) Unfortunately, though, apparently the bar had too many events going on tonight to allow for such a loss to their business. Thankfully they were able to reserve a private room for their group.

It's a bit of a tight fit. Especially since there are seven of them in a room that likely is meant to seat no more four around the table. Still, Clarence is grateful to be away from the rest of the crowd. Conversation is far more comfortable here, and they do not have to worry about being overheard should sensitive subjects come up.  

"Do you have much left to pack?" Cora asks Faith as Clarence returns his attention to the conversations at hand

"Not really. I have my two suitcases packed for tomorrow. And what little I haven't already donated, I've already packed away at Edgar's home.

"Speaking of which," he says as he turns to Edgar. "Thank you again. For everything."

"Yes," Clarence adds. Because, aside from that kindness to Faith, Edgar is paying for much of their future comfort on their voyage to and from Ohio. "Thank—"

"It's nothing. Really," Edgar says dismissively. "You two are the ones… traveling. It's the least that I could do."

He looks to Hastings sitting beside him. They're a bit too close than even the tight quarters would warrant. But, aside from the daggers that Florence sends Hastings' way, no one comments.

Especially when Hastings throws an arm onto the back of Edgar's chair and leans just a bit closer.

"I wish Daddy Edgar would take care of all of my bills," Hastings says, woefully. "I'd spend so much more than I already do! Imagine the possibilities. "

He winks.

"Uh…" Edgar says eloquently. His face flushes as he sinks into his chair, clearly flustered by the sudden attention and laughter that follows.

"You'd have to do something pretty damn amazing for that that to happen, comrade," Florence cuts in, pushing Hastings arm off of her brother's chair. Hastings retracts his arm, nonplussed, and leans onto the table instead, smirking.

"I suppose I'll just have to accept your challenge then. Comrade."

"Nothing is accepted!" Some liquor sloshes from her glass as she leans over her brother to stab a finger into Hastings' chest. "Don't go thinking that I'm dense, pretty boy. I'm on to you. And let me tell you: you'll have to crawl over my cold dead body to get what you want."

"Aw. You really think I'm pretty? Thank you so much. That's such a compliment, especially coming from you."

At the unfortunate expense of  Edgar's clothing and ears, their bickering continues. Clarence feels sorry for him. But he can't say that he feels it strongly enough to assist him. And the exchange has certainly lifted the mood of the room by a considerable degree. Something that they all could certainly benefit from considering all of their worry for tomorrow's journey.

Hastings' presence tonight had come as a surprise. Clarence had expected that the group would take advantage of their last night all together to talk about why Clarence and Faith are travelling to Ohio. They haven't all been in one place since the events at the Hedges' House.

And, while he is enjoying their company and entertainment, there is so much that they need to talk about. They are woefully ignorant of so many things; how can they be sure that they are doing the right thing? There is so much that could go wrong with this plan.

Especially the part where Faith will be left on his own in Ohio while Clarence returns for the rest of their belongings. No matter what, his mind returns to that fact. He wants nothing more than to keep Faith safe, but he won't be able to do that by leaving him on his own for a month.

Maybe he should ask Cassandra to—

Clarence's spiraling thoughts are brought to a screeching halt by a light tap on his arm. Jolting from his thoughts, he turns to find Cora poised to ask him a question.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Can you come with me for a moment? I'd like to get something from the bar and I don't want to go alone."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Perhaps a short walk will help clear his mind as well. "Does anyone else want anything?"

"I could stand for a refill," Florence says, lifting her empty glass

"I think you've had plenty already," Edgar says, swatting her arm back down. "If you get anything else it should be water or tea."

Florence rolls her eyes.  "Fine. I don't need your fancy-ass stuff anyways."

She drops her glass onto the table with a thunk. As Edgar scrambles back to avoid even more alcohol landing on him, Florence stands up. She makes a show of reaching into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out her own flask, and then taking a sip from it right in front of her brother's face.

Faith turns to Clarence and smiles. "I think we're fine,"

"Okay. We'll be right back!" Cora says, taking Clarence by the arm and leading him through the privacy curtain.

On the other side is a much cooler hallway. Across the way is another unoccupied room with its curtain tied back and candles unlit. Clarence expects her to continue to lead him to the bar to retrieve a drink, but, instead, she leads him to the empty room and stands just a step beyond the entrance.

Cora doesn't draw the curtains or make a move to illuminate the room. It's hard to make out her face in the shadowed space, but her shoulders are squared up. And, from the way that she continues to open and close her mouth, Clarence can tell that she has something very important to say to him.

So, he waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

Eventually she takes a deep breath and says in one of the smallest voices he's ever heard:

"You'll take care of him… right?"

Her voice is thick with concern and unshed tears.

"As long as he'll let me."

"Thank you. I—" One of her hands goes to her mouth as she does her best to maintain her composure. "I didn't think that I'd be saying goodbye to him like this. I knew that it was possible that he wouldn't stay in London forever, but I— I never even imagined—"

Clarence pulls her into a hug.

"This doesn't have to be goodbye for forever. You two could write, maybe if one of you left your part of the Chrysalis with someone else—"

"I don't think it works like that." She squeezes him for a moment before pulling back and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Besides, he'll be busy with his seminary. And I… I don't know if I'd be strong enough to come back to London once I left."

Clarence nods.

Out of everyone in their group, he understands. There are reasons why he can't stand the idea of leaving his friend vulnerable for even a moment. Reasons why he wants to stay by Faith's side as long as is possible. Reasons he's afraid of naming.

Reasons Cora likely has well.

He doesn't know how she's stayed so strong. How she's If their positions were reversed, his heart would likely be a shattered mess at his feet, preventing him from taking even one step forward.

Cora clears her throat.

"We should…" She takes a deep breath to steady herself. "We  should probably go get that drink before anyone worries."

Cora starts walking, and Clarence follows closely behind.

The main floor of the bar is busy and loud. The festivities are still going strong, and the sudden sound is startling to Clarence. He's, yet again, grateful that Edgar had chosen the private room for tonight.

Everyone is so absorbed in their own conversations that no one pays them any mind as they make their way to the bar. It takes a while for Cora to gain the bartender's attention. But, once she has it, she eagerly adds another drink to Edgar's tab for the night.

As the bartender is filling her order, Clarence's eyes catch on a man standing in front of a well-lit backdrop. In front of him is a camera pointed at the black fabric. Looking bored, the man watches as a couple fusses around a chair set up in front of him. Once they are settled, he takes off the cap for a few moments before replacing it. He then shoos the customers away and waves over the next person in line, making preparations to take their picture as well.

The bartender hands Cora her drink. She then turns to Clarence and asks above the bar's din: "Admirin' Georgie's work?"

"Yes." His gears are turning. "Can anyone get their photo taken?"

"If you've got enough money, you can do about anything here."

He locks eyes with Cora. It isn't often that he's exactly of the same mind as someone else, but he can see the moment that the idea comes to her as well. They nod to each other and then take off towards their friends.

Hopefully Edgar doesn't mind buying a copy for all of them.

[awesome-mandyandtoby]

On the road again...

The year is 2019 and the month is November, and our intrepid explorers Mandy and Toby have said farewell to their jobs, to their families and to the civilised world, all in the name of adventure. The following three months will see the pair travel to the ends of the earth as they visit Thailand, Philippines, Bali, Australia, Fiji and New Zealand.

Let the journey begin...

Thailand

First stop, the islands of Thai, and after a relatively hate-free flight, with a nice pit stop in the jungles of Hong Kong, we eventually arrived in Thailand exhausted after next to no sleep and made the voyage onwards to pastures new.

With a quick refresh, we headed for dinner on Koh San Road - no wild antics here, although we did see the fabled scorpion snack on a stick, an entire crocodile bbq’d on the sidewalk, and plenty of ol’ tat! After a few more over-friendly encounters with the locals, it was getting tense, so we got outta there...and went to bed, dreaming of Koh Samui and beaches blue.

Koh Samui

On arrival to Koh Samui, which has a beautiful airport by the way, we located our surroundings, a beachside beauty of a hut, we basked in the glorious AC temperatures and Toby rediscovered the sensational ‘minao soda’ or lime soda to the everyday man - damned delicious.

After applying copious amounts of bug spray (which would become a tri-daily routine) we did what we do best and went exploring, discovering a delightful beach out front and a perfect little beach bar where we enjoyed some fine beverages and each other’s company. Perfection!

Now...as Pineapple Express beautifully put it, “I thought hurricane season was over” and although monsoon season wasn’t supposed to start for another month - we got a good dose of rain and thunder in those first few days - shocking and startling thunder and lightning - t’was a sight to behold...from the safety of our new abode.

One adventure saw us stroll to fisherman’s village (a 45 min walk in the burning hot sun) against Mandy’s better nature - a theme that would reoccur throughout our trip - Brusey the navigator - Mandy not so keen.

We swam in the sea, we walked some more and we dined like kings, enjoying a delightful Tillapia fish which was beautiful...and cheap! We rested, we bathed, and we savoured the last days of our short Samui soirée.

Koh Pha-ngan

Soon enough the time was nigh to sail on to Koh Pha-ngan. A fine voyage with nought but sun and calm seas. Upon arrival in KP, some wind up taxi merchants tried to pull a fast one on ol’ Bruse and ramp the taxi price up after already agreeing a price - but this boy knows the game - no rugs pulled over this guys eyes! I successfully bartered back to the original price. You’re only as good as your last barter!

Anyhoo, we were dropped in the middle of what can only be described as a barren land, which quickly turned into a phenomenal beach/poolside resort named Saranna bungalows - BEAutiful!

The following three days consisted of banana bread for breakfast - banana would be our staple for the next month in Asia - followed by a swim in the pool, occasionally an ill advised game of volleyball with some other tourists, where Bruce and Mandy are the only ones trying, gorgeous sunsets, twilight swings on the beach, a delicious roadside Thai delicacy for dinner and off to bed. Heavenly!

There was one extra curricular activity of note, that involved mopeds. Now, we all remember the infamous moped crash of 2015...so the question was, would Bruse vanquish demons past...course he bloody did, rode round all day like a boss, chauffeuring Mandy to beaches and waterfalls and back in time for a sunset dip and dinner. No crashes here thank you. Just a pro rider of mopeds! Even rode through another rain storm!

One thing of note before our departure, we left on a Saturday, on the Monday it was the famed full moon party - which was of no interest to us - bunch of yuppy youths getting hammered and desecrating a beautiful beach, I don’t think so! Anyhoo, on our last day a hoard of young English and Irish tourists rocked up to our resort in preparation for the party, suffice to say, the calm, peaceful paradise that Mandy and I had enjoyed over the past 2 days, disappeared! It was all selfies, drinking and tomfoolery - awful!

Koh Tao

Bruse heading home to Koh Tao, oh the memories. The boat ride over - fast ferry - was horrific! Both in the throws of sickness, but just about survived without depositing any fluids! On arrival we were greeted with another glorious downpour stranding us by the side of the road for some time! Side note: Bullfrogs are REALLY loud after a storm, sitting in the drains sending out horrific mating calls.

Our hostel was located after a sodden traipse - where we went no AC for money reasons. The next morning we quickly rectified this horror show, it was unbearably warm - always get AC!

After various other walking mishaps from Bruse, we ventured onto the road to paradise, a glorious walk along the waters edge and up cliffs to one of Bruse’s favourite old haunts, the Banana Cafe to experience some sensational sunsets! Now here comes the inevitable downfall of this walking escapade. On completion of the sunset, we tried to walk up hill to a taxi...only to discover all the taxis had buggered off and we ended up walking for about an hour up the steepest hill in the history of hills, sweating our cajones off and Mandy nearly dying up the hill - the only saving grace - a cracking sunset!

As ever in Thailand, Bananas were the sumptuous course of breakfast and lunch. Smoothies, cakes and a glorious banana split were a saving grace for these western warriors!

One other exciting adventure we took part in was the Oxygen snorkelling tour, 5 snorkel spots, 1 hunt for turtles! Our first foray into the water ended up with us stranded from the boat which was miles away - so oblivious to our surroundings we’d just been too engrossed with the fish underwater. A reimagining of that Open Water film where the divers get stranded from their boat and then are slowly eaten by sharks flashed in our minds, but thankfully one of the crew swam out and dragged our weary bodies in on a noodle. Hooray! We saw lots of awesome fish and had a tasty lunch...but no turtle, the hunt continues - oh and Bruse managed to miss seeing about 5 swordfish that Mandy saw! How?!

As our time in Thailand drew to a close, there was just time for a quick stop in the strange little city of Chumphon - which we probably could have done without to be fair! Not much of note here, except for a few curious discoveries.

1. Thai people enjoy exercise on a grand scale - filling parks as they walk, run or generally move their bodies (the UK could take note).

2. If you’re going to travel to an Asian Mall, make sure there are at least a few other tourists in there with you. We stumbled upon a local mall and headed for KFC, only to discover we were the only white, foreign travelers in there, much to the amusement of the locals. The next 30 minutes consisted of small Thai children pointing and laughing at us and shaming us out the building. Delightful!

3. Bruse made one of THE purchases of the century - disposable pants and emergency toilet! Hey, you never know when you might need them!

And that was Thailand, completed it mate! Time to get the hell outta there! Philippines calling...

[twopedalpushers]

Travel update #2

Panama & San Blas

It seems like a lot has happened since I last sat down to write an update on our journey. The section of our cycle through Central America is now over, having arrived into Colombia a couple of days ago.

It’s safe to say that our experience cycling through Panama was a little different to crossing exotic Costa Rica. As soon as we passed the border, our familiar single laned section of the Pan-American Highway opened up into a dual carriageway populated by huge 4x4s, pick-up trucks and buses. Welcoming you at the border was a McDonald’s; the first that we had seen on this trip. This set the tone for the whole of our journey through Panama.

The best thing about cycling on the Pan- Am through Panama were the people that we met along the road attempting far more radical journeys than our own. We met another bike packer who had came all the way from Alaska who was planning on pedalling down to Argentina. We met people crossing the Americas by motorbike and camper van. We met Casper, an inspirational athlete in the process of running from Vancouver, Canada to the Southern tip of Argentina. He ran 60KM every day for 10 consecutive days before having a rest day. That’s 1 and a half marathons per day, day after day. He made our cycle seem like a walk in the park!

Another great thing that came out of travelling through Panama was the camping. We had avoided camping in Costa Rica because of the daily torrential thunderstorms. Thankfully there were plenty of hostels along the road to stay in. However in car centric Panama there were very few hostels along the route, forcing us to find sheltered camping spots as it was wet season in Panama also. Panamanians are incredibly friendly (even friendlier than Costa Ricans) and showed us the best places to camp in their villages and towns. We stayed in some pretty unusual spots, camping one night on a village theatre stage to avoid the wet weather.

November in Panama is full of National holidays- Independence day from Colombia, Spain and the US. We were lucky enough to be in a little beach town in time for one of their 3 day fiestas, where everyone gets pretty wild dancing to marching bands, drinking and eating street food. We had no idea what was in store until we tried to buy alcohol the day beforehand and were told that the government prohibited the sale of alcohol until Independence Day in order to try and keep a lid on the celebrations. Everyone more than managed to make up for this during the fiesta.

In between Panamas Americanised cities there were some pretty picturesque stretches of the highway high up in the mountains. Distances cycled varied, doing a minimum of 50KM per day and maximum of 76KM. I’ve decided to keep a log of distances cycled, amount of punctures and other fun stats at the bottom of these emails. We tend to burn upwards of 2600 calories per day when cycling. I have a suspicion that it may be more than this as I don’t think our bike computer takes into account the amount of luggage we have strapped to our bikes...

Cycling intensely everyday made us realise that we need to modify our bikes slightly in order to make it easier to get up the hills with so much luggage. For anyone that’s nerdy about bikes, our current crankset is 50-39-30T with a 9 speed cassette, 11-34T. We are swapping this out for a smaller mountain bike 44-32-22T crankset when we get to Colombia to prepare us for the Andes.

Our frequent run ins with street dogs that chase us on our bikes inspired us to carry “dog beating sticks” that we made by cutting up an old mop and strapped to our bikes with cable ties. Writing this it sounds pretty funny and extreme, but every few days on our bikes we get chased by dogs that are definitely out for blood. We have tried other tactics such as growling, shouting and picking up rocks but none seem to work as well as waving a big stick at them. So far we haven’t had to properly hurt any of them. To be on the safe side we have purchased a machete...If anyone has any successful methods of deterring dogs let me know!

As we pedalled closer to Panama City the traffic got heavier and heavier until we reached the Bridge of the America’s, over the Panama Canal. For anyone that doesn’t know, the Panama Canal connects the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean and basically acts as a shortcut for ships. We were super excited about crossing the Bridge of The America’s as it marked the end of our cycling journey in Central America- the end of the road! However you’re only allowed to cross the bridge by motor vehicle and we had read that the police pick you up on the bridge and escort you across if you attempt to cycle.

We wanted to at least give crossing it a go, so pedalled fast (avoiding pot holes) up the incline of the bridge. I looked to my right and saw the canal and the city beneath and got a huge surge of adrenaline. Then I heard sirens. As I pedalled faster to try and get across, the sirens passed me and I realised that it was an ambulance rather than the police!We made it to the other side of the bridge, got off our bikes and celebrated. Few people manage to cross the bridge by bike and we were happy that we were a couple of the lucky ones. Once we had stopped a car behind us honked a few times and we realised that the car had been purposely going slow behind us to shield us from the traffic so that we could cross. It was such a simple heartwarming act of kindness, it filled me with joy.

Panama City was the end of cycling for a while, as we prepared for our sailing voyage to Colombia. We decided to get a boat to avoid the logistical issues of having to put our bikes on another flight. We also wanted to visit the San Blas Islands, a collection of tiny untouched paradise islands in the Caribbean Sea between Panama and Colombia. So on the 13th, we boarded the Alessandra and set sail!

Sailing around the San Blas islands has been hands down the best thing I have ever done. Rudi, our Captain took us to the islands, where we could snorkel around the amazing coral reefs, visit the islands or just chill out on the boat if we wanted to. We got to see an amazing variety of marine life, including manta-rays and pods of dolphins that played with and chased our boat. There was an occasion when we were in the sea and completely wild dolphins swam around us. We caught fresh fish on the boat and ate barracuda, tuna, red snapper and lobster for dinner. Everyone on the boat was young and super friendly and we spent our evenings hanging out on the boat and making bonfires on the islands with the help of the indigenous Kuna people. It was really easy to get used to that kind of lifestyle! After 3 days visiting the islands, we spent a day and a half continuing to sail across to Cartagena, Colombia.

I have uploaded more photos of San Blas to my next post

We will be exploring Cartagena for a week or so before modifying our bikes and hitting the road again to Medellín.

As before, here is the link to track our progress

share.garmin.com/DMB7R

Remember to hit “view all” and zoom out to see the whole journey. We forgot to bring the Garmin above deck when we were sailing (it needs to be above ground to register your location) so unfortunately our blue line disappears in Panama City and reappears in Cartagena 🤦🏽‍♀️

[sistercelluloid]

A while back, my grandfather was taking my mother on a cruise, and trying to persuade me to come along. “You just sit back and rock, as the boat goes back and forth and back and forth,” he said, swaying and nodding his head from side to side. “It sounds great, Pop,” I blurted unconvincingly, “but please, you have to stop now!” I was getting seasick just watching him. I got queasy again at the Bon Voyage party.

Then there was the Jetfoil my husband Tim and I took from Bar Harbor to Nova Scotia. I was fine… until I wasn’t. At one point during a festive screening of The Little Mermaid on the upper deck, I suddenly felt… unwell. I barreled across the boat in frantic search of a bathroom, making it just in time. After watching in horror as everything I’d eaten since the fifth grade made a glorious comeback, I pulled myself together and swanned back to the land of the living, trying to seem calm and collected—maybe even elegant if I could pull it off! (Think Miss Davis in Now Voyager or Miss Dunne in Love Affair.) But as I settled into a lounge chair, channeling Mary Astor in Dodsworth, a deckhand leaned over and gently patted my hand. “We’re almost there,” he whispered reassuringly. Mortified, I asked if he’d seen me flying across the deck. “No,” he said, “but I see you now. And you’re green.”

When I got home, I told my doctor, who had armed me with industrial-strength drugs and dermal patches. “Those things work for guys in the Navy going across the North Sea!” she said, shocked at their spectacular failure. “There’s only one other thing I can prescribe: Stay off boats.” Which I did. For years.

Then came the TCM Classic Cruise. And I even stayed off that for years. But this time, I gave it a whirl. Along with the drugs and patches, I added ginger drops to my bag, a Seaband on one wrist, and an electronic thing on the other that’s supposed to interrupt the nausea signal to your brain by zapping the median nerve with a little Z-Z-Z every few seconds. I put it on the second-highest setting; any more voltage and I was pretty sure I’d electrocute myself.

Now it was time to settle in for five days of movies.

The schedule aboard the Disney Magic was slightly less hectic than the one you’ll find at the TCM Classic Film Festival, though there were still plenty of choices to make among 14 special presentations and 64 films, ranging from Eddie Muller-hosted noirs like The Asphalt Jungle, The Hitch-Hiker and Rififi, to screwballs such as The Lady Eve and It Happened One Night, to musicals like On the Town and Shall We Dance, to standards including Laura and Dodsworth. And like the Festival, there were no bad options.

Most of the documentaries and special events were found in the lounge; my favorite was “The First 25 Years of the Academy Awards,” complete with backstage tales and fabulous film clips, hosted by Randy Habercamp, managing director of Preservation and Foundation Programs at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Why doesn’t every classroom have cozy tables and a bar off to the side?

The rest of the films, including those with special guests Cicely Tyson, Mitzi Gaynor and Diane Ladd, aired in one of two cavernous but comfy theatres, or on the upper deck, poolside. Where I spent much of the week.

With, among others, Fred and Ginger…

…and my movie husband Rod Taylor. (This is the scene in Sunday in New York where, imagining that the pillow was me, I got shushed for sighing at the TCM Film Festival by a woman who clearly had no pulse. Hey, laydee, I was the one who pestered them into putting it on the program in the first place!)

The atmosphere on the ship was more casual than at a regular film festival, with a lot more freedom to duck into or out of theatres mid-film. (Which is great if you’re the one doing the ducking but not so much if you’re the one being climbed over.) And up at poolside, all bets were pretty much off in terms of talking; during Topper, I had to move from a prime viewing spot when a Martha Raye sound-alike and her bevy of boisterous buddies tucked into the table directly behind me.

And once, things got a bit too casual: a woman in the deckchair next to mine whipped out a can of highly stinky aerosol spritzer and proceeded to spray her entire torso, underarms and all. When I looked up from my book, startled and half-gagging, she snapped, “It’s deodorant! Don’t you wear deodorant?” I said, um, yeah, but I don’t put it on in public. “We’re not in public!” she informed me. “We’re on a boat!”

And then there was… the food. Oh my God the food. Everywhere, all the time. Buffets round the clock. Dessert stations. A pizza, burger and hot dog stand. Unlimited popcorn at screenings. And a soft-serve machine with old-fashioned cones. You know you’re on a cruise when your roommate jumps up in the middle of breakfast and says, “You want some ice cream? Cause I’m gonna go get some!”

Oh and the four-course dinners every night, with the same fabulous staff taking care of us. Our headwaiter Walter took his duties so seriously that one day when I was poolside—nowhere near dinnertime—I turned to find him behind me with a Coke. And then a little while later appearing at my table, seemingly out of nowhere, with another one. I was almost relieved when the movie ended and I was heading downstairs, as 12 years of Catholic school would have made me feel too guilty to be served another soda.

I had no problem eating, well, everything, since after a shaky first night, I did okay with the whole boat thing. But a touch of claustrophobia kicked in after a couple of days.

Me, calling Tim: “I’m having a great time, there’s just one thing though. Sometimes I have kind of a closed-in feeling. I can’t explain it… it’s like I’m trapped on a boat.” Tim: “Yeah, ummm…”

Luckily we were just about pulling into Bermuda by then. I felt a twinge of guilt about swilling a mango daiquiri beachside on a random Thursday, when everyone back home was working. It lasted about as long as it took me to bite the maraschino cherry off the stem.

“Some people just stay on the boat the whole time and keep watching movies,” a veteran cruise-goer told me. Which seemed silly. Until the second day we were dockside, when I did the same thing for a day of Halloween films. Val Lewton (Cat People), Buster Keaton (The Haunted House), Boris Karloff (The Mummy) and Lon Chaney (House of Frankenstein) were whispering my name.

As if on cue, day turned to dark and stormy night during The Haunted House, but nothing could budge me from my Buster.

And just in time for sweet dreams, House of Frankenstein—also featuring Dracula and the Wolfman—wrapped at around midnight, when we all unbundled from our deck blankets and trundled off to bed. (Or the bar on Deck 3.)

In fact all the late-night poolside showings were a bit nippy, which deterred… no one. Not with fleece and cocktails and hot chocolate handy. Though on the final night, when they showed Sullivan’s Travels, I had swathed myself in blankets so thoroughly I didn’t even budge for a drink…

…warming up only when Joel pours his heart out to Jimmy Conlin. Oh and whips his shirt off.

Cold as it was that night, I was reluctant to shed my blankets and head down to my warm stateroom, knowing this was the last film of the trip.

Before dawn the next morning, as we pulled into port, I strolled around the still-damp upper deck, where so many movies had gone by so quickly in the days before. Strains of Gershwin wafted through the air as I gazed out on the city I love—a little disappointed, though, to be back so soon. Almost a week had flown by in under a minute.

I popped into the coffee shop where Colin had made my coconut lattes all week. Where were they off to next, I asked? The Caribbean. And here I was heading into drizzly Manhattan. He skipped the usual Disney characters that had topped the foam in my drinks all week—which I always felt guilty about smooshing into oblivion on the first sip—and gave me a little going-away present.

Thank you Colin, thank you Walter and the crew, and thank you TCM, for this Sullivan girl’s lovely travels.

The TCM Classic Cruise: All Aboard to the Fabulous Movie Past A while back, my grandfather was taking my mother on a cruise, and trying to persuade me to come along.

[oddsandendsandthings]

“I’m Davenport!”

“Wait... wait...”

All his life he’s looked at the stars and seen an endless world of possibilities. His parents were part of an elite research team. They had found this thing called they called the Light of Creation and they told him in a few more years they may be able to achieve interplanar travel through the stars with it. He didn’t really understand how a tiny light could be able to help them travel through space but it sounded cool.

And if a little light could do so much, then maybe one day he could too. That ship is going to need a crew after all. And he was going to be the one to lead them.

“Where am I?”

The kids at school didn’t seem as partial to his ideas of space flights and missions to other planes of existence. He dodged another rock aimed at his head as the kid chased him around the play yard. To “knock he his head out of the clouds,” they said. He turned the corner and ducked behind a bush as he cast an illusion of himself still running to keep the bullies off his tail. He held his breath as the kids fell for it and kept chasing it. 

Good. That illusion should hold up another 10 minutes. Plenty of time to mislead them just deep enough into the woods that they wouldn’t get lost, but definitely far enough in that they’d be late to class even if they ran the entire way. If the teachers wouldn’t do anything about the bullies then he would. “Too much of a runt to lead a team” indeed.

“You’re... You’re Merle... Right?”

Was it a little young and reckless to be getting behind the wheel of his parents' wagon without a drivers license? Probably. But really the keys were right there and they were out of milk. After being up for 32 hours straight his parents weren’t anywhere in the state to be driving. So a quick trip to the market and back. He could manage that.

And behind the wheel of that wagon was an indescribable feeling. He had never felt so free before. Like every time those bullies jeered and threw rocks, every time a teacher that looked at him like he was some kind of halfwit when he said his dream career was to be a pilot, they were all proven wrong. At least until that stray dog decided to cross in front of the wagon. He really needed to learn to stop daydreaming.

“I know you...”

His parents sent him to a fantasy military school. To “curve his wild tendencies,” they said. He hated it at first. Sure he crashed his parents’ wagon. And he got into more than one fight at school. Okay, a lot of fights at school. It’s not like started most of them. But boot camp? that’s a little extreme. The sergeants and drill captains were even bigger hard asses than his old teachers. But he in between those moments of hating this school, he was learning a lot about survival training and how to work in a group alongside his normal lessons. And they were actually teaching him how to properly drive a motor vehicle and that was even better since they never thought to ridicule him for his size as an excuse to not let him behind the wheel.

After a year they were talking about promoting him from private. They were putting him in charge of a small group during their training exercises to see how he can handle being in a leadership position. And he’s excited to try it out. He can feel there’s a change in how he handles himself. He’s no longer that scared little kid that no one believed in. People actually trust his decisions. It’s a nice feeling.

“What’s going on?”

It’s been years since he’s graduated fantasy military school. He served for a few years after too and retired under the rank of Lance Corporal. Now that he’s served his duty he can finally dedicate himself to what he’s always dreamed of. The IPRE has been making headway on its construction of a ship that could run purely on the bonds people share with one another. It's in its final stages of construction and they’re hoping to have it make its maiden voyage in the next two years. And now they’re looking for a crew to man it. Davenport is a natural pick for captain. He agrees all too eagerly on the condition that he gets to pick his own crew. He knows better than anyone that you can’t just shove a group of people together 

The interview process makes him want to tear his mustache out. Not for lack of qualified applicants. There were plenty of those. But for how many that, beyond their qualifications, they were downright insufferable. Half of them acted as if he had no idea about how magic worked and the other half acted as if they were the ones leading this mission. He called the next candidate on his checklist as only to raise an eyebrow as two identical elves stood up. “I’m sorry these are individual interviews. Which one of you is Taako... Taaco?” 

“Oh don’t worry about that, my dude. We’re about to save you a whole bunch of time by killing two birds with one stone. Cause you see we, my sis Lup and I, are a package deal that will absolutely blow these other chumps out of the water.” The twin on the left said with a confident smirk. Davenport didn’t know if it was the exhaustion talking or the curiosity of what they thought could offer, but he decided one less interview he had to do the better. 

“I’m Davenport.”

A lot of people questioned his reasoning on how a ragtag group like theirs could work together so well. And honestly, he didn’t know himself what compelled him to choose the people he did. They weren’t exactly the most qualified people, with the exception of maybe Lucretia. But what they lacked in formal training, they made up for in sheer force of will. Even when they were still in training, they have a way of solving the puzzles and goals that were set out for them in ways he and the other test proctors could never have imagined. Incompetently competent is the way one of the proctors put it and he couldn’t think of a better way to put it. Despite them only knowing each other a short time, they just had a way of picking up the others slack at just the right moment, in just the right way, to turn the tides in their favor. It was pretty outstanding actually. 

And now they’re standing on the bridge of the Starblaster about to blast off into the unknown. He looks back from the control at the people he’s about to spend the next 2 months with. Magnus is grinning despite, more like because of,  his black eye he’d gotten in the night before. Lup and Taako are standing towards the back, they keep glancing at the countdown clock in obvious excitement before looking away in feign disinterest in attempt to look aloof. Barry and Lucretia don’t even bother to try and hide their apprehension as they never take their eyes away from the ticking clock. Merle is the only one that seems completely unaffected, looking more like he was waiting for the bus to come than like he was seconds away from blasting off into space. 

He turns back to the controls and grins as the bond engine revs to life. He had made it. They may not be the most professional looking team out there. But despite what anyone else thought, they had made it to where they were today. He had made it. And he honestly couldn’t think of a better group of people he’d rather be with to share this with. 

“I’m Davenport!”