#and being the correct distance from the dumb planet I live on to for the right temperatures that will allow water to remain liquid

[obstinatecondolement]

Honestly though, southern hemisphere babes, I would give you your daylight back if it were up to me. Yours sincerely, a guy on two different prescription vitamin D supplements.

[writingabouteverything]

A Blink of an Eye

a/n I WENT TO MY HSLOT SHOW IT WAS EVERYTHING YOU GUYS !! BEST NIGHT EVER! this isn’t like born from that exactly but it is a being at a HSLOT tour show vibes lol

if this is bad im sorry,, it just got so long so fast and ahhh it’s here 

summary: y/n is a college student that has basically become a celebrity over night after being casted in a live action Coraline adaptation, and her first real outing post-blowing up is a Harry Styles concert she bought pit tickets for a year ago. Things are more hectic than y/n imagined them being, but they’re not unenjoyable...and then the Harry Styles’s narcissistic side has to come out after realizing that he’s not the only center of attention at his own show. And that changes a lot more than just the outcome of a concert. 

a/n part 2 lol: i can see making this a series or like a mini blurb series where harry like introduces the reader to the celebrity world and helps her through it and thats like what draws them into a relationship?? idk? 

also could see myself making a fake social media post for this!!

------

It’s 2021...technology has advanced far too much for me to still get blindsided by stupid mistakes like forgetting to set the right alarm. How dumb can one person be? Now that my schedule is as tight as it is, I can’t afford to do things like this. 

I was supposed to finish a math assignment due tonight at midnight in the morning, because my mid-morning and early-afternoon are taken up by classes. When I finish that, I have my first video interview since the...whole getting casted in the upcoming live action Coraline and then blowing up on twitter because of a series of youtube videos that had less than a hundred views before the world found out that I’ll be playing Coraline and Timothee Chalamet will be playing Wybie. Okay, it’s kind of my first real interview ever. 

The only acting credits I have except for a couple of indie movies are a two-episode arch on Criminal Minds when I was eleven and a rarely recurring character on ABC’s comedy, Superstore. I didn’t know if I wanted to keep acting in college..but then my old agent reached out with something secretive and highly competitive and...wow. Things really can change in a blink of an eye. 

“It feels like I’m speed walking with a celebrity.” 

My best friend’s voice distracts me from my thoughts. I turn towards Blythe, sarcastically glaring at her as she hides a smug grin by taking a sip of her pumpkin cold brew. There are a few...onlookers...and two camera men were excited about my appearance at the only Starbucks within walking distance of my campus, but it’s not like people are gawking. It’s not like I’m some megastar now. People only care about me because they know that soon I’ll be filming with Timothee.  

That’s why people are watching me. Some are even hoping for some romance on set because someone found a clip of youtube video in which I said that Timothee Chalamet was exactly my time. As soon as they realize that I’m the most awkward person on the planet, and that even though Timothee was extremely nice about my lack of major project experience, he won’t be seduced by my excitement over this project’s every development. 

“I am not a celebrity.” I adjust my grip on my drink. “People found out that the girl who’s going to be in a movie with Timothee Chalamet has a failing vlog channel that she only updates when she’s bored. The three people that notice me in public are going to forget about me in two minutes.” 

Blythe raises an eyebrow, which is fair considering that we both know I’ve gotten more than attention from three people. My social media stats went off the charts the moment the live action cast for Coraline was announced. 

“You’re starring in a movie with Timothee Chalamet,” Blythe corrects, “You’re literally playing Coraline in a live action Coraline--you’re going to be film twitter’s new obsession, I know it.” 

Rolling my eyes with a slight laugh, I ignore the odd warmth in my chest. That’d be...it’d be unbelievable. I’m doing all I can to not let this chance go to my head. It’s one project--one amazing, coveted project, but I can’t just assume that my life is made now. Besides...playing such an iconic character is so much more pressure than playing someone unknown. What if people hate how I portray Coraline? Live adaptations keep getting hate, what if this is like that and I ruin a story so many people love?  

Blythe blinks at me, waiting for an answer, but these aren’t the kinds of insecurities you just blurt out. “If you’re right, you’ll be my date to the premiere.” 

She narrows her eyes at me. “Excuse me, I was always going to be your date, and then I was going to leave you for Timothee Chalamet--who you have to introduce me to at some point, or you’ll no longer be considered a good roommate.”  

I let out a small laugh. “I’ve talked to him like three times, give me a chance to get to know him before I start carting him around.” 

Blythe sighs. “I guess, but when Harry Styles invites you back stage tonight you have to take me.” 

This time when I laugh, it’s completely genuine. “You’re delusional.” 

“What? It could happen, you’re like a celebrity now--” 

“I am at most a social media trend, and Harry Styles isn’t exactly known for being up to date on social media trends.” I take another sip of coffee. “And I probably won’t even be recognized.” 

Blythe presses her lips together, amusement leaving her. “Are you sure you’re--are you sure it’s okay for you to be in such a public space? I mean Starbucks was awkward, but in a pit full of people--” 

“No one’s going to look at me twice. It’ll be dark and the odds of one of the three people that care about who I am being there and near us are low, and they’ll be distracted by Harry Styles.” We stop in front of our campus’s library. “Now stop worrying about that, and start worrying about the math homework you said you’d help me with. You know I need to be done by 3:00.” 

------

The evening comes faster than I expected it too, but I’m not mad about it. I’ve been looking forward to this concert for more than a year and now it’s only a few hours away.

Blythe insists on us taking a selfie before we can head out the door. I consider doing the same for my Instagram story, but decide against it. Knowing that people are actually monitoring my social media activity makes it feel weird to post. I’ve never been one to post everything online, but on the occasional night out in which I like all parts of my outfit, I don’t mind posting to Instagram or my Snapchat story. Now I don’t know if that’s sending some kind of message. Especially because I didn’t tell my agent about the concert and she said to run things by her until I officially find a manager. 

I should have mentioned it to Fiona, but a tiny part of me worried she thought the exposure would be too much right now and I wouldn’t be able to go to the concert. No one expected me to get as much attention as I’m getting right now this quickly. 

“Ready?” 

Whatever. It’s not like this is a bad thing that’s happening. It’s good--it’s what I’ve worked for, I just wish I knew what I was doing. And i don’t have to think of it tonight. “Yeah.” 

------

The atmosphere is everything I wanted it to be. Blythe and i should have gotten to the venue earlier, but schoolwork made it impossible. We shuffle in behind a group of fabulously dressed girls and join a small line before getting wristbands put on us. 

“Excuse me?” I turn my head, expecting for an employee to ask to see my ticket or vaccine card again. Instead, I see a girl who can’t be older than maybe fifteen. When I nod, her eyes widen, “Can I get a picture with you?” 

“You want a picture with me?” 

That strange flutter in my stomach returns. I’ve been asked to take pictures with strangers multiple times over these last few days, but I didn’t expect this here. Okay, one girl--one picture. I guess it’s cool to know that there’s at least one case of overlapping between people that now care about me and Harry Styles fans.

“Yes! You’re y/n l/n, right?” I nod. “I’m so excited for your movie! I watched all of your youtube videos last night and you seem like the nicest person ever and I can’t believe you’re going to be working with Timothee Chalamet.” 

“Me either.” 

Blythe spares me a side glance. “I can take the picture, if you want.” 

The girl grins, handing Blythe her phone. After a few pictures are taken, I compliment the girl’s outfit and she thanks me before running off to catch up with her friends. 

“MIss celebrity--” 

“Shut up, it was one pict--” Turning, the rest of the word dies in my throat. 

That interaction was noticed...a small crowd of people are now watching me, some standing with the cameras of their phone open as if they’re waiting for something. A few snap pictures of me as I stand there, but others start to approach me. There’s nothing chaotic about it at first, the people that want to meet me form a line. I don’t mind i, everyone is nice and encouraging, claiming that they can see me portraying Coraline well and that they understood why I got cast.I thought I’d have more time to talk to Blythe, but she doesn’t seem to mind the flock of people.

By the time Jenny Lewis comes on stage, I’m done with the people that want a picture with me. Towards the end of her set, new people start to take notice of my presence. No one approaches me, but I can see the way I’m being monitored. Some people record me for their snapchat stories or take quick pictures. Eventually, a group of friends walk up to me to tell that they love my videos and that they’re looking forward to my movie. I’m quick to thank them, hoping to become unnoticeable the second the reason we’re all here takes the stage. 

When the introduction video begins, I am glad to be forgotten. Golden is so amazing live I almost lose it. Blythe feels the same way, she grabs my hand as Harry begins another song. I’m so lost in the music, the stares and not-so-subtly angled cameras seem to disappear into the background. 

Until Harry pauses between songs to introduce himself. A teenage boy gasps, steps towards me, and asks me about TImothee Chalamet. I keep my reply brief but polite, but I’m cut off by a middle aged woman telling me her daughter has always been a fan of my videos and is so happy to see my success and that she’d love a picture. How could I say no to that? The girl hugs me so tightly I can’t breathe, and the mom snaps a photo. At that, a group of girls the same age as me start talking to me about how much they love the original Coraline. A few more people become more blatant about their ‘secret’ pictures and more people approach me with commentary. It gets to the point where I’m struggling to be able to pay attention to Harry Styles. 

“Hey!” The loudest voice of the night. Everyone pauses, their eyes snapping to the stage. “This is my show, eyes on me...not on her.” The audience laughs, a nervous giggle escapes me as the screen that projects the concert shifts to project me to the audience. Harry steps forward, approaching me. “What’s your name?” 

Blythe has to nudge me in order for me tor register the fact that he’s speaking to me. Oh my god, I’m talking to Harry Styles. “Y/n.” 

“Well, everyone, this is y/n.” He steps even further towards the side of the stage that I’m on. “She’s cute, right?” Did he just call me cute in front of an entire arena of people? “Okay--now you’ve seen her and you can all focus on me, because, y/n, you’re hurting the narcissist in me.” 

Everyone laughs, including me. Is being called out by him right now even more surreal than how many people have recognized me here? Yes--but at least he doesn’t actually seem mad. I feel comfortable enough to call out a genuine, “Sorry!” 

He steps forward, moving around a chord. “At least she’s sorry for doing whatever it is she did to get all the attention off of me.” Harry’s still joking, that much is clear from his slight laugh. “Which was--how’d you do that?” 

I press my lips together, unsure of what to say. I’m a celebrity now, but because I’ve only been one for two minutes, people are really excited about it. Yeah, that won’t work. “She’s going to be in a movie!” 

I could kill Blythe. 

“A movie! How exciting.” My face has never bene this hot in my entire life. “What’s it’s name?” 

A tiny part of me doesn’t want to reply. It’s not like I can ignore him, but something about me always feels awkward about telling people about acting jobs. I don’t need anyone thinking I’m self obsessed. “Coraline!” 

He pauses, expression twisting in partial confusion. “Isn’t that the claymation one?” 

I nod exuberantly to make up for my mask and our distance. “They’re making a live action one.” 

Harry makes a show of playfully grimacing. “That’s the scary one, right?” He doesn’t wait for me to react. “Accidentally showed it to a little girl once, her daddy almost had my head.” The audience laughs. I join in, still feeling insanely awkward and like I’m in some parallel universe. He pauses, something behind his gaze shifting...perhaps the disappearance of his humor. “You don’t seem scary, though.” The words are said softer than anything I’ve heard all night, the gentleness of them making me wonder if those words were meant for the entire stadium or just me. Harry begins to pace away, “Right!” He exclaims, letting the strange (and one-sided) tension disappear. “Stop stealing my show or I’ll show up to your premiere and steal that.” 

The audience laughs. I’m frozen until Blythe touches my arm. That pulls me back into this realm of reality...and that’s how I become aware of the fact that what just happened wasn’t in my head. I turn to Blythe, too aware of the people around me to react the way I really want to. 

The moment we’re alone we’re doing that weird, girly, jumpy-squealing thing. “Told you, you were famous. Harry Styles knows you!” 

“Does not! He saw a bunch of people taking pictures with me, that’s all.” 

Blythe rolls her eyes, moving to grab my hand so that she can excitedly jump around to the next song. I force the odd interaction out of my mind as the intro to Canyon Moon begins. At least after Harry’s warning, people think twice about invading my space. Until he temporarily disappears, a few girls take their chances, the bolder ones calling my name so that I’ll look at their cameras. I know that more attention than ever is on me, and that Fiona will definitely be asking why I didn’t run such a public outing by her. But that’s tomorrow morning’s problem. Okay--probably later tonight’s problem.

By the time Kiwi begins, the last song of the night, I’ve basically shaken myself free of all my weird feelings. Things are good. Harry wasn’t mad...and he talked to me, which is something I never thought would happen. And yes, I’d rather not have had people taking pictures of and with me throughout the entire concert, but they’re being nice to me. No one has expressed any negative opinions, and I really didn’t see that coming. 

I haven’t always been the most comfortable in my body. Everyone thought it’d pass with the teenage years, but here I am...almost twenty-one and still overly aware of how my body compares to beauty standards. So aware that I’m not always as good to my body as I should be. 

At least things are good right now. Really good. Because Kiwi is an absolute banger, and even though I know I’m not as anonymous as I’d like to be, I can’t help but give that song my all. Blythe and I did come here with the intention of losing our voices, after all. 

Harry says his goodbyes, blowing kisses to the audience. The moment he disappears, leaving the fans on a high, I find myself feeling like I’m in a pool of piranhas. Most of the people around me already got their pictures, but after the attention Harry brought onto me, I can already see people further in the pit preparing to cue around me. If they didn’t know I was going to be in the live action Coraline before, they do now...

Blythe latches onto my hand, as both a way to hold onto me and a way to say we’re in for a long night. A tap of my shoulder is all it takes for me to turn. I put on the smile I’ve been using more and more lately, prepared to greet the person that’s prepared to start what could be chaos.

I expect to see some kind of teenager: a girl a few years younger than me, more curious about asking me about Timothee Chalamet than anything else. That’s not what I get...

The man who just tapped me on the shoulder introduces himself, “Hello, I’m Jeff, I work for Harry, and if you’d like to go back stage to avoid the attention he accidentally put on you, I can take you.” My eyes fall to the VIP passes in his hand. “Your friend can come, too.” 

Backstage escort at the Harry Styles concert? The meek part of me wants to say no. He did call me out for taking some of the attention from him at his show...but he was joking, right? Besides, my life isn’t random backstage opportunities. My life also isn’t almost getting mobbed in the pit of a concert. 

“That sounds great, we really appreciate it.” Blythe answers before I can form a response. 

I’ll scold her for that later. “Yes, I’d really appreciate it. Only if it’s not any trouble, though, I didn’t mean to cause any commotion--” 

“No trouble at all,” he says, handing me the passes, “and you didn’t cause any commotion--it’s good for him, to realize he’s not the only star in the world.” 

The implication of me being a star...let alone a star in the same universe as Harry Styles, is enough to  force me to be silent. Jeff leads Blythe and I pass what remains of the crowd. A tiny part of me feels like I can breathe better when we disappear behind a door that promises the anonymity I’m more accustomed to. I’ve always loved acting, and this is the kind of success I’ve always dreamed of...but it happened so suddenly. No one was prepared for that, and it feels like I keep doing the wrong thing. Fiona keeps saying that things will be easier when I finally have a manager, but there’s no guarantee I’m good at this.

We’re led to a comfortably set up backroom. People I don’t know mill about, Jeff is called over by someone almost immediately. He politely excuses himself and leaves Blythe and I. 

“This is the most excited I’ve ever been about anything,” Blythe almost squeals. 

I smile. “I know, but act calm, please--I don’t need another zoom incident.” 

“I only wanted to say hi to Timothee--” 

“Which would have been fine if you hadn’t tried to take my spot in front of my laptop while we were trying to read through some scenes.” 

She half sighs, knowing that I’m right. “That was an ambush--I had gotten back from class and I had no warning. And it was online, you can play anything off over zoom. It’s not like I’m going to shove you out of the way right now.” 

“What does ‘right now’ have to do with anything?” 

Her eyes widen slightly, “Don’t freak, but Harry Styles is walking over here...’right now’.” 

I turn my head, prepared to tell her that her joke’s so funny, but the words die in my throat the second my gaze has settled on the person crossing the room. Harry Styles is walking towards me. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” Really? ‘Hey’? 

After a moment. of silence, he continues, “I’m Harry.” 

“Y/n.” 

He nods once politely, “Y/n, I need to apologize about the amount of attention I drew to you. I didn’t realize who you were...and then--” 

“You’re fine, you had no way of knowing and it’s not like I got mobbed or anything. I really do appreciate you getting me backstage before people could notice me, though.” He nods once politely. “The show was amazing.” 

He takes the praise well, smiling slightly. “Appreciate it, though it was almost stolen.” 

The teasing coaxes a genuine smile from me. “Key word is ‘almost’, you beat me.” Harry lets out a slight laugh. “In all seriousness, though, I am sorry about any--” 

“Oh, don’t apologize to the narcissist in me,” he waves my words off, “it’s good for him to be on his toes.” 

“I imagine that’s rare.” The comment earns me another partial laugh. 

“Not an unfair assumption.” 

He holds my gaze after that, maybe for a little too long. I drop my eyes after a minute, my gaze landing on Blythe’s feet. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet. “Oh, this is Blythe, my best friend.” 

Harry smiles, greeting her. This is the most awkward I’ve ever seen Blythe, a part of me finds it funny. Her nerves usually make her more outgoing, but she’s truly starstruck, struggling to manage bare minimum politeness. Harry probably thinks she’s just shy, which is the funniest development ever. 

“The show was great,” Blythe says, “And it was really nice to meet you.” 

“You as well.” Harry’s attention returns to me. “I also enjoyed meeting you, y/n.” 

“Me too.” 

I expect that to end our interaction. He will disappear to talk to more important people, and I will be free to go home and freak out over everything that’s happened to night. “I’ll see you at the movies, I guess. You must be a great actress to get cast in something so scary.” 

I laugh freely. “Coraline’s not a horror movie.” Though the version I’m in is meant to be even darker than the original. 

“I won’t feel that way in theaters, might need someone to hold my hand.” The humor behind his eyes evaporates the same way it seemed to on stage. 

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

The up-tilt of his lips almost drops. “If not, you can always talk me through the jump scares.” 

My face feels warm again. Just polite banter. “I promise I’ll warn you about anything you want to know about.” 

He grins. “I’ll hold you to it.” I smile, waiting for him to excuse himself. He’s talked to me way longer than he needs to, and there’s no way that he’s not in demand. “I’ve got to talk to some people, but if you’re staying I could come find you in a few minutes.” 

He wants to talk to me more? He wants to talk to me more! I’m hallucinating, and I’m about to have to ruin everything. “I’d love to, but my ride has an 8AM tomorrow.” 

I gesture towards Blythe, who might kill me for putting her sleep schedule over talking to Harry Styles.

“If your friend doesn’t mind me stealing you, I can make sure you get back.” 

The offer floats there for a long moment. “I don’t mind at all.” 

Great--now I have no excuse to not think about what I want. I don’t want to impose, but it’s not like he had to invite me to stay out of politeness, right? And it’s not like I’ll make Fiona more angry. “As long as it’s no imposition.” 

“Not at all.” 

[syllvane]

muscle memory pt. 4- sylvie x reader

a/n: love is hate. or whatever. part 4!

read the previous part    read the next part     read the series  

“How did you-” Loki started to ask before Sylvie snatched the TemPad from your hands, before looking at it in a stupor.

“Are you an…” Her harsh tone dissipated as she remembered who she was talking to and the expression on her face became a tad softer. “You couldn’t have brought a charged one?”

You looked between the two Variants, your gaze settling on the woman with blonde hair, on Sylvie.

“There was a bit of a shortage. Don’t know if you’d know anything about that.”

You took the TemPad back from her and she didn’t say anything, turning away from you and Loki looked between the two of you.

“I’m missing something here,” He noted.

“It’s none of your business.”

“That makes two of us.”

You and Sylvie spoke simultaneously and Loki ran his hands through his hair, sighing loudly.

“Where are we, anyways?” He asked, peering out the windows of the abandoned structure that they were in.

“Lamentis-1,” You responded nonchalantly.

Sylvie blinked, rounding on you again, furious.

“You followed us to Lamentis-1? Are you stupid?”

You knew that you should’ve been outraged- in the brief period of time that you had known her, Sylvie had possessed you, filled your head with false memories, blown up the Sacred Timeline, and now she had called you stupid.

Yet, all you could think of in regards to her was how pretty she looked in the purple light.

“You guys came here first.”

“It’s not like I had any say in the location,” She snarled, though the anger wasn’t directed at you this time, but rather at Loki.

“Well, it’s not like I-”

Before he could finish, a piece of the moon that was on a collision course with the planet fell from the sky, breaking the roof of the shelter and landing at Loki’s feet.

He quickly reevaluated what he wanted to say.

“We should find some proper shelter.”

Sylvie glared at you for a couple of seconds more before looking out of the window, the faint purple light illuminating her face.

“There’s a structure across the way. It’ll hold up longer than what we’re in now,” She said, not waiting for the two of you to concur before she exited the makeshift shelter.

You and Loki followed close behind.

When the three of you reached the shelter, Loki went to the far wall and leaned against it and you leaned against the wall closest to the door, closing your eyes as another wave of dizziness came over you.

There were a couple of quiet footsteps before they stopped in front of you and you grabbed Sylvie’s hand midair, as she was about to touch your cheek again.

“Touch me again and I’ll cut your hand off.”

You felt energy thrumming underneath your touch but you didn’t let go, your eyes locked with Sylvie’s.

You knew what you were fighting now- you wouldn’t let her do that to you again.

She yanked her arm away from you, anger mixing with something else on her face and she went back to sulking at her end of the mining shaft before rounding on you again.

“Give me the TemPad.” She said to you, her patience seemingly waning as she pulled out a dagger from seemingly nowhere.

Still, you remained unfazed. If she was going to cause you harm, she would’ve done it by now.

“I gave it Loki.” Her eyes widened and she looked at you incredulously, then at Loki, then at you again.

“You gave it to him?”

“You've given me zero reasons to trust you.”

“And he has?”

You glanced at Loki, who was watching the situation between the two of you play out carefully.

(You silently thanked him for not immediately exposing your lie to Sylvie.)

“At least he’s honest about his dishonesty.”

“I don’t remember you ever being this stupid,” Sylvie practically snarled at you before turning towards Loki, pointing her dagger towards him, letting the two of them butt heads for a little bit longer before it seemed as if actual violence may occur between the two.

“This isn’t doing us any good, all you guys are doing is wasting precious time. We need to find a power source to charge the TemPad,” You interrupted the two of them and they both looked at you. “Unless, of course, you two want to kill each other in an abandoned mining shaft. Then by all means, go ahead, just leave me out of it. I couldn’t care less.”

You walked out of the mining shaft and started towards a settlement in the distance that didn’t seem to be as severely affected by the impending doom of the entire planet, hoping that there would be some power source there.

It doesn’t take long for Sylvie and Loki to run after you, apparently not as content as dying in a mining rig as they had been a minute ago.

They continue bickering as you walk in front of them.

“What even makes a Loki a Loki?” Sylvie snapped back in response to whatever dumb thing Loki had said before.

“Independence, authority, style.” He responded, as if he had given it a lot of thought before.

“Oh, makes sense that you went to go work for the boring, oppressive time police then. Really checks all the boxes.”

“I don’t work for them, I’m a consultant.” He corrected her.

“You don’t know what you want.”

“Yeah? And what about you?”

Sylvie slowed down for a second, looking at you and Loki slowed down as well, his eyes narrowing.

“What is it with you and-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll cut your tongue out.” She threatened and you groaned, turning around and looking at them like an exhausted parent- you finally felt some sympathy for how Mobius must feel every day.

“Are we really back on the whole threatening to kill each other thing?” You snapped.

Neither Loki nor Sylvie said anything immediately.

“You’re much less fun when you’re serious,” Loki noted and you blinked.

“Yes. Well, my sincerest apologies for trying to get everyone off of this planet alive. I will refrain from doing so in the future. Can we get on with this now, or do you have any more quarrels about me saving your lives?”

[sp00kymulderr]

eupnea (Ezra x Reader)

Warnings: Just sickeningly sweet fluff, no plot. Kissing.

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,902

Request: once upon a time @goldafterglow​ sent me an ask that just said “Hi the only! thing! I can think about right now is nuzzling Ezra’s tummy and making him giggle because he is a sweet good boy with a soft tum and he deSeRVES IT PLS SOMEONE NUZZLE HIS TUM OR I’LL RIOT” and I took it and ran with it, in a completely different direction.

A/N: Ok so there is tummy nuzzling in this but it’s not the main feature of the fic, but I did fit it in. Hands up if you would also really like to be nuzzling Ezra’s soft little tum right now.

Like a moth to the flame, unable to resist his radiance, you were drawn to Ezra from the very beginning.

When you had met, you working mechanics for a contract while he was there to dig, you didn’t really believe in love. Certainly not love at first sight, true love, soulmates. None of those old fairy tales your mother told you growing up. You hadn’t felt it before, never needed anyone in that way.

But then there was Ezra and you felt struck by lightning.

Even when he put on a show to the others of being the intimidating vagrant fringeling only looking to make credit, you saw straight through it. He was more, had so much to him. His presence thrilled you, made your blood pump like molten liquid through your veins, you knew you would never be able to get enough.

And oh, Ezra was resplendent. When he smiled it warmed every cold part of your being, his laugh lighting up the bleak constant dark of the planet you were stationed on. Beautiful too. Like none before him, there was no hope for you. From those shining, wide eyes to his striking nose, the unusual patch of blonde at the front of his soft head of hair to the small silvered scar below one eye. You never wanted to look upon another face again.

He felt it too. Desperate with it, seeking you out at each opportunity. Spending hours in your tent just talking, him with that sticky sweet voice and words spilling from him like honey from the jar. You swapped stories of life on the fringe and futures you could barely let yourself imagine. Quickly overcome with longing - lingering gazes and grazing hands, hiding away together with your fingers interlaced and your hearts becoming ever more entangled.

And yes he admit to you he had a past, and he was certainly not faultless, but you understood that beyond anything else he was a man with true heart. Genuine and kind where it mattered despite everything, despite the pain you saw in him that he tried so hard to hide. Despite growing up in a world so unforgiving, where he had quickly learnt to be cunning and devious to survive. He hadn’t let his lot in life completely determine his humanity.

You loved him more with every new part of himself that he revealed to you.

With Ezra, it was immediately like all the little pieces of life's puzzle were put together. It all made sense. Everything. It was the most powerful thing you had ever experienced. You both knew, from the very beginning, this thing between you was life-changing. Nothing would pull you apart.

***

After that contract had ended you decided to stay together, impossible to part when you dreamt only of each other.

And now in what feels like a different lifetime, you are settled. A particularly fortuitous dig with enough successfully mined aurelac to fill several cases and only one barely escaped ambush had left you both with enough credits that you could actually find a home, a comfortable cabin tucked away in beautiful unspoilt forest, this place is for the two of you and no one else. Having somewhere the two of you could call home felt like the most beautiful luxury you could imagine.

To begin with you had been concerned that Ezra would regret his decision, you understood his need to rest a while now that he could - you were both so weary, had both been through so much in this life. But he was so accustomed to being constantly on the move, not staying in the same place for long enough to call it home. Part of you fearing he would come to resent you for tying him down to this place, this quiet life, you.

The look on his face now though tells you clearly that he is perfectly content.

You rest together on the plush, comfortable couch – your head in his lap as he absent-mindedly brushes his fingers against your jaw with a lazy smile. He glows; rested and nourished, well fed and well loved, and your heart swells with pride to know that is your doing – that you had in hand in renewing a tired spirit. A slow tune drifts through the air from the crackly old speakers on the opposite side of the room, and you close your eyes as you sing along in a happy daze.

“My beautiful little songbird” he chuckles as the music fades out leaving you singing on your own, and when you open your eyes he’s looking down at you with the kind of adoration that takes your breath away each time. He loves you so deeply, so fierce and yet gently. Even after years he holds you like you are something more brilliant than any gem he ever pulled from the ground.

“You’re the beautiful one” you murmur, reaching up to stroke a hand against his cheek, tracing gently over the small silvery scar, “I’m just here to provide some music”.

“And you certainly do that, such sweet music. But I see we’re at an impasse, birdie, because I cannot accept such a title while you’re here making all the goddesses envious”

“Hush,” you grin, “let me have this. Don’t I deserve to see my love smile so bright as I tell him he’s more brilliant than every star in the night sky?”

He laughs turning slightly bashful at your words but it’s there, the beautiful curve of his plush lips to grace you with that genuine smile. You do adore seeing him like that, to make him know how much you adore him and see him lose his words because of it. There was a time before when he didn’t take compliments so well and you had to convince him that each loving word was true, those days when he was haunted by his past ventures and the loss of his limb. And it had hurt to see him struggle like that, watch him so slowly come to terms with it.

Ezra starts to say something in return, something you’re sure will be nothing short of poetry meant to flatter you, but interrupts himself with a wide yawn, his torso stretching up with it and causing the grey fabric of his shirt to ride up slightly. The movement reveals the gentle swell of soft golden skin that you are so fond of, that you have often laid your head on as you talked for hours, and that now is another sign of the good life you’re finally living together. You move and hand to where the fabric has ridden up, just resting it there for a moment as he returns to himself to look down at you with that dopey, lazy, happiness written all over his face.

“I love you so much” you stutter, taken by the way he looks framed by the orange glow of setting sun through the window.

“Every bit of you, more than I could ever say” you sigh, moving your head to nuzzle your cheek against his stomach then turn to kiss it, a light giggle floating down to you, “I’m so grateful that my star brought me to you”.

“Your star?” Ezra asks, you hum a yes against his skin then kiss again. His hand lies at the side of your neck, pleasent stroke of his thumb against you.

“Didn’t I tell you the story? The soul star?”

“I can recall every story you’ve ever shared with me, songbird. I can conjure up where we were and exactly how you told it at any given moment. This one is new to me and I would be delighted to hear you tell it, please” he answers, excitement wavering in his tone, he always loves to listen to you.

“Ok, I’ll tell it.” you chuckle, brushing against his belly with your cheek again, feeling him relax further in to the couch as you do.

“It was one of those romantic old wives tales my mother used to share. I never believed it, couldn’t understand it until we met”, you punctuate your words with another tender press of your lips to his skin. “She told me every one of us has a star, our own incredible bright light that watches over us, up in the distance keeping an eye on us. She said our star knows what we need and when we need it, and when it comes to the right time the star will call out to us. If we answer the call and follow where it leads, it will take us to the place our soul belongs”

He hums softly, letting you continue as his hand comes to cover yours that lays on him.

“It was told often, and I always laughed it off. I didn’t feel I belonged anywhere, you know that. But then there was the job, the one on Triada Five,” Ezra squeezes your hand at this, the job you had met on “I didn’t want to take it, it was long and the ship was a rust-bucket that looked like it wouldn’t make it half way there. I was about to turn it down, figured I could make the same credits fixing ships on the Pug, but something...something stopped me. It was like a tiny voice whispering in my ear, comforting and kind, told me that if I took the job I would find everything I needed. And I didn’t even doubt it, didn’t question it at all.”

“It was your star” Ezra mutters, intrigued, absolutely taken in by your story.

You nod, skin soft against his where your head rests, before moving to sit up and placing yourself in his lap. You can feel the pooling of tears in your eyes, you had never let yourself believe it entirely but hearing him say it overwhelms you. If you hadn’t taken that job, who knows if your paths would ever have crossed. Whether it was your soul star, or fate, or pure dumb luck you don’t know but you are grateful of whatever force was in play then.

“I suppose it was my star. I think it called out, and led me to you, Ezra. And I think here-” you place a hand on his chest, over his heart, “is where I belong. With you”

You feel a tear trickle from the corner of your eye, Ezra quickly catching it and wiping it away before he pushes forwards to kiss your lips.

“I think you’re correct, birdie. And it’s dawning on me that I felt it too, long ago” he reveals, arm coming around your middle to pull you closer, “I was lead through galaxies to you. You are my reason for everything”

And then he’s kissing you again; deep and never-ending, just you and him and the peaceful chorus of rustling trees in the forest around the cabin.

You remain like that for a long while, bodies pressed together, mouths open in quiet adoration of the other. The sun leaving the sky as you find yourselves through each other again and again. When he finally pulls away, you are breathless and bursting full of pure affection.

“Come on, songbird,” Ezra says as you chase his lips for once more kiss “Let’s wander down to the lake. The stars are out and I believe we owe them our gratitude”

Permanent tag list:

@youhavereachedtheendofpie​ @princessbatears​ @catfishingmorales​ @hdlynn​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @chews-erotically​ @keeper0fthestars​ @marydjarin​ @readsalot73​ @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @agentpike​ @heatherbel​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @mstgsmy​ @sin-djarin​ @huliabitch​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @dindjar-n​ @softpedropascal​ @millllenniawrites​ @blancatobarxoxo​ @cyaredindjarin​ @goblinqueen95​ @knittingqueen13​ @teaofpeach​ @agirllovespancakes​ @insomniamamma​

Ezra tag list:

@pedropascallion​ @justanotherblonde23​

[tomdiddlyumptious]

T.H| This Is Odd

Summary: sometimes coming to a high school when your not supposed to has some... odd features

Warnings: rant about black hole, DRUGS, small RAPE MENTION, languange, OD (overdose), and idk

“Yeah his brother is like Indian or something, which makes absolutely no sense” you heard from a distance, you turned and followed the voice, finding one of your classmates, crowded with other ones.

Ding ding

“Class class- we have a new student!” Your teacher, let’s call her ms Barbra. You sat in the back of the class, not wanting any attention of the sort. “His name is Ben Perkins!” The student stepped up, an awkward smile across his lips as he looked through the class.

“Everyone say hi!” “Hi Ben” “hey Ben” class said one or another, expect you of course. “Go ahead and find yourself an open seat” Ben took his time but made his way to the back, sitting in between you and a girl that was your..... friend? You are cold but she got along with you pretty well, I guess.

About 20 minutes in, you look over the class, eyes cold and in an over-sized dark green sweater, black biker shorts, and a over-sized plain black shirt that came down just revealing a few inches of your shorts.

“What the fuck is your problem?” The girl asked, Tracey. “Okay so I’m Spider-Man, if you want me to be honest yeah” Ben shrugged. “Your fuckin nuts” she whispered, leaving Ben chuckling.

“You hear this bullshit y/n?” Tracey asked, making both of them turn to you. “Eh, don’t really care about it” “so you don’t like Spider-Man?” Ben whispered. “No, I don’t like anything, or anyone, except for Tracey, isn’t know why but I really like her” “as in-“ “no dipshit” you turned to him, giving him that cold stare, he stopped looking at you and cleared his throat, looking at Tracey panicked as she only shrugged.

You walked through the cafiteria, computer in hand as your hair bounced with each walk, sitting down at a table alone you open your computer. “Can we sit here?” “Don’t care” you heard bags drop on the table as you look up, “Spider-Man huh?” You looked at Ben and he nodded, “ID please” “I don’t think-“ “I’m not trying to fuckin rob you or anything, just give me the ID” you looked at Ben, you made eye contact as he tried not to fail.

“Fuck” he lost when you raised your eyebrows at him, he took out the ID and handed it to you. “Let’s get this out of the bag, you aren’t Ben Perkins, who is stupid enough to give someone that name-“ “ouch” “this ID, made, of course it is, it’s the school ID, is it?” You mostly talked to yourself, Ben and Tracey just starring at you as you were in detective mode.

“What’s your real name?” “Should I be giving this information?” You snapped your fingers at him “that’s a fake accent, your brother is indian” “he was adopted” “shut up” you type in your computer ‘soon to be Spider-Man’ “any trailers out yet?” “No” “aha” you scrolled down on marvels Instagram, clicking it “this is fun, I should do this more often” you nod to yourself, you scroll down to the Spider-Man post “Tom holland, so it’s true?” You turn the computer, “duchess, your from the UK” Tracey scrolls through the computer reading it.

“How would you know that” “you came to a geniuses school didn’t you?” You smirk. “How long you gonna be here?” “For about three more days” “there’s a party” Tracey smiles. “Tracey no, Thomas is like 19,20” “I’m 19 and how did you know my name is-“ “because your from the UK, duchess, it makes sense”

“Hey ms Johnson can I get some water?” You ask, Tom and Tracey behind you. “Yeah sure huh you know where it is” the office manager smiled at you, you smiled back and grabbed a cup, instantly going to the coffee machine. “That isn’t water” “want one?” You ask them, they all nod. “Okay so like, what’s going on, how did you get here, and why?”

“My British humor is something that people don’t get” Tom smiled. “Yeah... I bet” Tracey mugged Tom, he looked at her as in ‘what did I do?’ “Are you coming to the party?” Tracey asks you. “Is there drugs?” You say, standing infront of the coffee machine and turning back to her, your lower lip puckered. “Your an addict” “I have my problems” you shrugged, handing the black coffee to Tom as he grabbed the things he needed for the coffee.

“Are you?” He asked, looking back at you. “I’ve been clean for.....yeah I don’t know” you shrugged, know handing one to Tracey. “Is that a good I don’t know” “no she literally likes to wipe her memory- I’m suprised you haven’t OD’ed yet” “in your dreams Tracey, in your dreams” you smiled, now coming over with them and making the coffee, until the door opened.

“I thought you only wanted some Y/n?” “Hey, the more the merrier am I right?” You winked at her, “whatever” she playfully said, closing the door. “And you call yourself a genius right?” “Sometimes duchess, why?” “I’m pretty sure geniuses don’t do drugs” “but geniuses do find out when a fraud enters their school, and cracks the case under 20 minutes” you glared at him “touché” he cheered his drink at you. “I really hope you don’t plan on skipping this party y/n” “ayo, I’ll think about it trace- how about you pretty boy, you comin?” “What’s the age range” “we are both eighteen, as long as you don’t thot around you’ll be fine” you smile at him as he nervously chuckles.

“The black hole, do you know what you’d find?” The teacher asks, nobody knew. “You guys suck” you said out loud, standing up and taking the marker from the teacher you drew a black whole. “Black whole, if you went in you wouldnt find anything, it’s called the black whole for a reason, it’s basically a planet vacuum, if we ever got to close we would be sucked in” you explained. “And that would take us to the fifth dimension, this black whole” you hit the drawing “can pop up anywhere, it can take the sun, Mars, I’m suprised it didn’t take Pluto yet, but what you didn’t know is” everyone paying attention to you “there’s multiple versions of yourself, beck give me a fruit” “orange” “see, there’s another reality, deminsion- whatever where you said apple, or even lemon, or even grapefruit. Now let’s not get off topic, but there’s like four different deminsions, if you were to enter and go to earth, you’d probably find another one of yourself, maybe the same, maybe different, but there’s a reality, a dimension where you didn’t have gravity, where you don’t live on oxygen, where you don’t have to live on water, but as the time passes, things change, puberty, teeth, clothes, everything, so imagine before Christ, what was here?” “We don’t know” “read about it, anyways, not to get religious or anything but Adam and Eve, eve being the dumb person she is she ate the apple, then she tricked Adam into it, but god didn’t set up any kind of snake so where did it come from?” “Satan, who is a fallen angel, this makes absolutely no sense” “shut up and let me explain. Imagine a different deminsion, one where you can’t make mistakes because really, earth is what we make it, we as a community are fucking up this planet, so in the different dimension what are some things that would be in there, duchess” “I-uh, no plastic out in public for animals?” “Yes, good job, what else?” “Green grass” and a whole bunch of other answers. “Correct, but there has to be one bad thing right...? Sinning, we do sins everyday but we are human, but if we were in this dimension... that would be the definition of human, but why would god make this ‘black whole’? He must want us to go in, right? Or are we the adams, the eves, the fallen angels, the angels who are still here, having to face consequences. Getting sucked in this black whole makes you get lost, it’s obvious that we shouldn’t go in, because anyone who have probably died, because the black hole is everlasting, here, this is where we stay, the fifth deminsion is where you don’t go, thank you” Tracey slowly started to clap as everyone else did, some standing up as you turned around looking at the board, noticing you impulsively drew a lot of notes on it. “Well, that was a lesson but also some intresting theories, thanks for sharing y/n. I guess that sums it up” the teacher shrugs, “no actually the fifth deminsion is a five-dimensional space is a space with five dimensions. If interpreted physically, that is one more than the usual three spatial dimensions and the fourth dimension of time used in relativistic physics. It is an abstraction which occurs frequently in mathematics, where it is a legitimate construct,” you make you way back to the seat. “So you are a nerd! I fuckin knew it” Tracey whisper yelled. “I’m not a nerd!” “Oh you so are a nerd” “shut up duchess!”

It’s the day of the party, and you aren’t that exited.

You sighed “I’m not wearing this Tracey” you say, in the body con dress. “You look good!” “I look like a box” you glared at her, “you going just like that, let me-“ “your not doing my hair, leave it” you looked in the mirror “at least have a side part” “fine”

Most people dancing, others drinking, Tom, Tracey, drinking. “I’m not gonna ya know Uh-drink” “now that’s not y/n, I have never heard you say that before” “well maybe- fine” you shrugged, looking over you found a bowl full with pills, you sighed as you walked over, taking two handfuls and slipping them into your pocket, walking back over they both look at you as if your crazy “hey I’m gonna take my time with these!” They still looked at you crazy, Tom taking a sip of the beer. “I’m hungry” you muttered, going to the kitchen and opening the freezer getting pizza rolls, pulling out a pan and slapping a whole bunch on and popping them in the oven. While you waited you looked at the heavy pills in your pockets, taking one out you slipped it in your mouth, just curios. “Oh fuck me” you were clean for about a week, now giving up made you feel like a pussy, you waited for the pills to kick in, the purple and pink lights getting bigger and seeing spots “fuck- how psychedelic is this?” You asked yourself, your dirty converse helping you stand. “I should go upstairs” you whispered to yourself, this wasn’t that strong but the colors really got you.

The oven went off.

The beeps and the distant music, a smile across your face as your steps stuttered “excu me, haha!l you smiled, grabbing a towel and pulling out the hot pockets, grabbing a large bowl you put them in, making your way back to your friends Tracey was gone. “Heyyyy, where she goooo!” You said. “You don’t look okay, hot pockets?” Tom said. “Take one please” you slipped in your pocket and handed him a pill. “I can’t I have a job I’m not really suppose to be here-“ “it’ll make you so happy, look at me! I feel great, please” you now begged, his jaw clenched as he looked around, he put the beer down, taking the single pill and placing it in his tongue and swallowing “good let’s go upstairs!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to the stairs and going up whole the other was filled with hot pockets.

You searched the rooms “oh-sorry!” Until you found a room, you pulled Tom in, closing the door behind both of you and locking it. The pill wasn’t strong for him either, so you both were pretty sober. ‘Tame impalas borderline song booming through the walls. “So?” He asked, throwing himself on the bed. “Aren’t you happy” you said, sitting on the bed, placing the pizza rolls down. “I don’t really feel anything honestly” he shrugged. “I have more” you smiled at him, taking two out. “Open” you smiled, he sat up and opened his mouth, placing his tongue out, you placed it right on it “don’t swallow” you placed one on yours. “Now” you both swallowed, sitting there as it really now hit you. “I hope you don’t become like me” “I really wanna kiss you” you looked at him confused. “I think your smartness is really, really sexy” “Thomas your high” “you are too” “I-“ you take out another one ‘god please don’t let me overdose’ you thought. “I’m not that high Thomas” “then join me” he took your hand, you looked at the pill, “this-this can’t hurt me, I’ve done more then-“ “please y/n, I don’t wanna be hanging here” you looked at him, eyes watering “I’m scared” “don’t be, I’m right here darling” he wiped your tears away. “I-I just don’t want to die” “you won’t, I’ll be here, I promise” “Tom your high right now, I” “take it” you looked at him then at the pill, putting it in your mouth you swallowed. “I don’t want to die” “it’s to late, you took it” he reminds you, were you imagining this whole thing? “I fucking love you, I want to fuck you” soon someone’s else’s face popped up, his name is bray “I love you, I’m so sorry” “you rapped me you prick, I hate you” he pinned you to the bed, the leds purple as his face was there, you spit in his face “I’m so sorry, I love you so much I did it because I love you- I-I’m sorry”

“Y/n? What’s happening” Tom said, you throwing up in the floor, he instantly sobered. “Get off me!” You screamed and bray, he is still pinning you on the bed. “Y/n!” You fell to the floor. “I love you so much, I did it all for you, for us” bray yelled at you, your heart feeling heavy. You body shook. “Y/n are you having a seizure?! Help! Help!” Tom screamed, your body on the floor shaking, laying down next to your vomit, you choking on it. “Please get off of me” you begged, tears falling down your cheeks as you gave up, your vision blurry. “Your gonna die, nobody is gonna morn you, 6 feet under, no one to save you, not even Spider-Man, you pussy” he smiled at your weak figure.

Tom pushed through people, finding Tracey “y/n is dying in need your help!” He screamed over the music, traceys bottle falling as he pulled her upstairs, “CALL 911! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU!” Tracey screamed through the music, Tom pulling her to the room your body is on the ground, still shaking and choking on your spit, it made Tracey fall to her knees, “911 is being called I- how many did she take?” “Three full pills” Tom said, dropping to your side, trying to sit you up as he choked on his sobs “fuck,” he just looked at you.

You woke up.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

You looked over and found duchess and Tracey, both of their eyes red and blankets covering their bodies, just starring at you. “What happened?” You asked. “You overdosed” a single tear ran down Toms face as he looked away from you. “We only knew each other for three days, why are you crying duchess?” You smiled. “I- I honestly don’t know, I feel like I knew you my whole life and seeing you, almost dead it just breaks me” “your parents couldn’t see you like this, they just went outside” “you guys slept overnight here?” “Yeah we did” Tracey weakly smiled. “I’m gonna sober, you don’t have to worry about me” “yes we do, we wanna help, and we are” Tom smiled at you, sitting next to you on the hospital bed, taking your hand and playing with your fingers. “I’m sorry” you whispered, tears filling your eyes as your parents came in. “It isn’t your fault” your mom reassured. “Yes it is, I just keep walking in these traps and I- I’m just slipping away piece by piece, what if I’m just cheating death, what if I’m not supposed to be here?” You said, the tears now collapsing. “Don’t say that, we aren’t losing you” Tom whispered, the 19 year old looking down at the 18 year old, not losing her yet.

He doesn’t know why he feels this way about you, he just got hooked, it was amazing at first but know that he knows what’s going on is even better, letting him seeing you vulnerable is making baby steps into something, right?

“Yeah sat next to this pretty girl and she said what’s your problem. I told her im Spider-Man, your fuckin nuts she said, then she turned to her friend who is the most intelligent, beautifulest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, then she found out who I was, called me duchess, yeah I had the best three days, then left, but hey that’s how I have my girlfriend now” everyone clapped and let out some ‘aws’ “and you met this girl at the school you say?” Graham Norton says. “Yep she was a senior, 18” “the one who called you fuckin nuts or?” Jake said making everyone laugh “no the one who cracked my code under 20 minutes, and ya know it’s crazy, I had a good accent but she found out!” He stuck his hands out and everyone laughed again. “Hey you went to a genius school didn’t you” “yeah... she is one genius still to this day”

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 15: 2x03 The Paradise Syndrome

I have seen this episode once before and I remember it being pretty awful... but tbh, I didn’t think it was so bad this time around. Maybe that’s just because my expectations were, like, Spock’s-Brain low. It definitely had issues but there was stuff I liked too!

Hmmm, that’s not the bridge. It appears to be... California?

Wondering what people might be so “blessed by this environment”--what a manly he-man action/adventure guy thing to say, amirite?

How does Spock know the significant markers of all the Native American tribes at a distance, off the top of his head?

(Answer: he doesn’t; all of this information is wrong and also one of those tribes is completely made up lmao.)

Honestly, who’s to say these people aren’t advanced? How do YOU know?

“Just so peaceful... no command decisions.” Oh no, Jim’s feeling Romantic again.

Honestly, imagine this characterization in AOS: overworked starship captain think he wants a break (but is wrong). Beyond made a vague attempt but missed what it is that Kirk finds stressful about command--it’s not that it’s boring, it’s the weight of the responsibility and the inability to find love.

Although funnily enough, even on his Native American Vacation, he still finds himself in a command position. He just can’t be stopped. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Oh no, the obelisk ate him.

Maybe these people specifically built the obelisk so that they could return to this idyllic ““primitive”“ state, hmm? Maybe they like their lives this way. Maybe they experienced "progress" and then decided that whatever era of their development looked like indigenous American peoples had it right. (This is not correct but it roughly is the plot of Errand of Mercy so I’m not without precedent.)

Spock’s using simple tools to explain his point to Bones lol. “Here, let me dumb it down for you, lesser man of science.”

“Who am I? What are these?” Cpine morning voice: “This must be a dream!”

Kirk looks so confused. The god from the obelisk.

“The engines are showing signs of stress.” Seems to me like SCOTTY’S showing signs of stress.

And yet the music is so whimsical.

Honestly Kirk’s expression here = Denny Crane’s when in a meeting

White man brings CPR, is hailed as god. (I wish I were making this up.)

Damn, Salish has been demoted. How embarrassing for him.

This is a VERY interesting Spock. He does all his calculations, but the he takes all the risks. He’s very certain and single-minded, almost obsessed, not afraid of anything. I think it’s IC but I also think you can see some Kirk influence, perhaps... You can see how Spock has grown in his command abilities since The Galileo Seven.

The wise ones = the aliens.

“He died before he could tell Salish the secret” to opening the Obelisk and stopping the asteroid. That IS unfortunate.

“How does this shirt open?” Lol.

“Your name is Kirok?” “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“I’ve never been this happy and peaceful.” Funny how he looks neither happy nor peaceful. Maybe it’s something like “I’ve never been this happy and peaceful...and I don’t like it.” Or “I’ve never been this happy and peaceful... there must be something wrong.”

“Here there is much time. For everything.” No there isn’t, there’s an asteroid coming.

Kirk’s cottage core fantasy.

Poor Scotty, so stressed out. Maybe he needs some time with the indigenous aliens.

The Joining Day? Lol okay.

Kirk has no chill, at all. “Oh, you want to get married? Tomorrow? Okay!!” Is this how Gary was able to successfully distract with him the blonde lab technician?

The “stardrive.”

“Estimated repair time?” “FOREVER.”

“And you lost Jim.” Cool it Bones, there’s no need to be cruel. Spock’s already in his thinking pose so you know he’s taking this seriously.

Love Spock’s chair. That’s not Starfleet regulation.

“I have found paradise.” Is he high??

Requisite highly choreographed fight scene.

“You’ve barely eaten or slept for weeks.” That’s because he’s worried about Jim. And the giant asteroid. This is a great Spock and McCoy scene though.

I can’t believe this. Spock lies down (barely!) and McCoy just leaves like he actually thinks he’s won, and then Spock immediately gets up again to go back to work.This guy is even easier to fool than Sarek.

You know Spock spent his whole adolescence going "Sure, I'll do the thing" and then just not doing it.

“A strange lodge that moves through the sky...” Well okay.

Okay I’m sorry, is he sensing the enterprise or is he sensing SPOCK? Because most of this dialogue might just imply he’s generically remembering his old life... but he also specifically says that the “flying lodge” was farther away and now it’s closer again, and how he could he know that otherwise?

She’s pregnant? That’s not good lol. AWKWARD.

Also the closest that TOS will ever come to acknowledging people have sex.

Omg he made a lamp. He made a lamp on his first day there. Does this imply that Captain Kirk had an arts and crafts phase?? Like CPR I understand him knowing--I’m sure everyone in Starfleet does. But hand-carving a lamp? That’s a whole other skill.

Various cultures including “certain Vulcan offshoots” use music notes as words omgggggg I love this information PLEASE tell me more.

“The Preservers” is a good concept imo. Nifty sci fi innovation: taking aliens from endangered places and giving them a new place, then setting it up nicely for them.

Stop throwing things guys! It’s not helping!

“I need Nurse Chapel.” Damn right you do.

Spock really doesn’t like that “wife.” He sounds like “Wife?? How dare??”

Then he suggests it’s a hallucination even though there’s a woman right there.

"Naturally, since he did not come from there. He's my man, get your paws off him."

Vulcan mind fusion? What the heck is that? How is it season 3 and they still don’t know what to call it?

“He is an extremely dynamic individual.” Spock was really taken for a ride in that brain.

“The landing party is expendable.” There’s the Captain.

“I have an excellent eye for musical notes.” Brag.

“Just press the right button.”

Looks like Spock was the god they wanted all along.

Okay, that was an uncool ending though. I know they basically had to kill Miramanee as soon as she was pregnant but like, there was also no reason for her to be pregnant??? I would have preferred if (1) Miramanee hadn't been pregnant, (2) Jim got over her as soon as he regained his memory and (3) she lived and they just parted awkwardly.

Also I think it would have been nice if they had ended with the Enterprise explaining to Salish how the obelisk works, and then maybe even a hint that he and Miramanee will get back together. Like, maybe not that, since I’m not a fan of women just being used to, like, make men feel better--though I’m also not a fan of them being fridged because of Inconvenient Baby--but he should have at least gotten his position back and, more importantly, the knowledge he was always entitled to. Also, the very existence of an asteroid deflector, along with the people’s extensive knowledge of what weather signifies Oncoming Asteroid, implies this happens to them with some frequency. So in other words, the threat will return.

Plus Salish never got enough credit for being right, which he was! The whole time!

Oh and also I would have liked some acknowledgement that Jim does like being Captain. If you watch the whole show, you know that he occasionally bemoans the stress and his inability to maintain a romantic relationship, despite his love of long walks on the beach, but that he’s also ambitious, he loves exploration and adventure, he gets bored if left in one place too long, and he believes in the necessity of progress and discovery to keep not just individuals but societies from stagnation. But if you just watched this episode, you’d think he’d never been happy in his entire life, and that returning to command makes him miserable.

Aside from the Native American stuff--which was awkward and rather unnecessary and has aged, as you might imagine, very very poorly--I actually didn’t hate the episode. It had some VERY interesting Spock stuff, which I think is within a reasonable Spock characterization, and some great Spock and Bones moments. Kirk’s story line was surprisingly engaging for him being completely separate from the crew, and the general theme that he sometimes needs, or thinks he desires, a break from command, is definitely in keeping with other episodes. I liked the asteroid as the Big Danger, which was surprisingly dynamic--by which I mean, it did a good job of connecting the very disparate story lines on the Enterprise and on the planet. I also liked the Sci Fi Concept of the week in the Protectors. And it was interesting to see an ep take place over a longer period of time.

None of this is to downplay how awkward the Native American elements are--incredibly fetishistic, and also lazy--like, “I want to show something Simple and Idyllic...I know! Indians!” There was no reason they should look like American Indians. In fact, it makes no sense that they do: the Protectors take peoples from planets that are about to be destroyed and (somehow) discreetly move them somewhere else, but Native American peoples still.... very much exist? And so does Earth as a whole. So obviously these aliens weren’t transplanted from Earth. So why should their culture resemble some awkward mishmash of Native American cultures?

So overall I’d say, the ideas of the episode, the structure, the characterizations (mostly), and the overall ideas were good, but it was just very awkward and unfortunate that it chose the... aesthetic that it did--especially because it was very much an aesthetic choice and not a well-thought-out, culturally sensitive one. Gonna be honest and just chalk that up to it being 1968 though.

Next is And the Children Shall Lead, which I actually think was one of the first TOS eps I ever saw... But I don’t remember it at all.  So we’ll see!

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt. 46

Keith hadn’t expected to be moving in to his apartment on the following Wednesday. He also didn’t expect said apartment to be three blocks away from work. The hunter had a feeling Shiro was behind that. His brother cautious over any potential dangers Platt had to offer.

He’d seen Miriam on Monday, not that he’d admit it but he’d waited in the car for Lance to message, never leaving the parking lot. Miriam seemed in good spirits as she talked about Lance and how happy she was that he’d found someone like him. Lance was a lot like his Mami. They both had this way of talking that drew you in. She also had a razor sharp sense of humour, and the way their faces scrunched up as they laughed was obviously a family trait. A family trait that left him feeling both grateful and anxious as his own thoughts kept coming back to his mother. He hadn’t said goodbye to her. He’d up and moved country, leaving her behind and it felt weird. Almost as weird as it was to be working for Coran now.

Coran seemed to like him too much. He’d asked all about how Lance was getting on. Keith felt kind of like he was betraying his boyfriend by explaining everything that had happened, which the fae seemed to pick up on as he smoothly changed the topic to how Lance was getting on with Matt. Lance seemed to be getting on better with Matt now. Matt was a tech geek like his little sister, he’d set himself up in the living room with his laptop, he and Pidge dissolving into techno-babble that only Hunk could keep up with. Now he was in Platt, all Keith wanted to do was go back to Garrison. Their apartment was already furnished, owned by Voltron, and had three bedrooms. The windows showed views of the city streets, where far too many noises drifted up to reach them on the fifth floor. Shiro said he wanted to find them apartment, yet somehow they’d ended up going with the flow. Coran meant well, but it kind of felt like they were being kept under his thumb. Keith wouldn’t have been surprised to find hidden cameras in all the light fittings like some dumb movie.

Their stuff had been delayed in delivery, so wouldn’t be there for anything from two more weeks up to a month, making things feel even more sparse and unhomely. Like he was a stranger in someone else’s life. Pidge already blown up the chat that morning complaining that he hadn’t said anything about his sudden moving and he owed her big time for leaving. Sure, he’d left, but Pidge was where he wanted to be. She wasn’t lost. She hadn’t left Lance’s house since Matt’s return. Neither of them would be there tonight when Pidge’s parents came to dinner at Lance’s. Lance was stressed over it that morning when they’d cuddled in bed. This “move” couldn’t have been on a worse day, nor did it make much sense to Keith. Sure, Coran wanted to do skill assessments on both on them first thing the following morning, but he could have dragged his arse out of bed at ungodly o’clock if it meant not seeing Lance trying to be happy for him.

That wasn’t to say Lance wasn’t happy that he’d be working through things with Shiro. He was and he’d told him that so many times Keith had to kiss him to shut up. It was more... more... like Lance had given him a taste of what it felt like to be in a real home where hunting was secondary to living. Throwing himself down on the red pleather sofa, Keith pulled out his new phone. Blue and Lance were his Home Screen, his Lock Screen a random photo of the desert he’d found on the internet. Sure, he was being sappy and stupid, but he could really use a cuddle from Blue right about now. With his leg slung over the sofa, he hated the piece of furniture. The only thing going for it was the fact it was red

“Well, this is it. Coran said we can find our own place once things settle down. We need to go shopping for the essentials. You’ll probably want more clothes”

Lance had packed him a backpack filled with the few things he’d bought him in their time together, plus a few shirts and pairs of jeans that he’d been borrowing

“Keith, did you hear me?”

Keith kept tapping on his phone, opening his chat with Lance up. Lance had messaged him, because his boyfriend was far too damn nice. His message along the lines of guessing Keith was frowning right about now, but he needed to remember that it wasn’t forever and Garrison really wasn’t that far away. Keith couldn’t help smiling slightly. Even apart, his boyfriend still cared

“Yeah. You want to go shopping”

“Unless you’re intending on sitting there sulking”

Keith frowned, his tone huffy

“I’m not sulking”

“Right. You do know Garrison is down the road”

“I’ve been told”

“Look, Lance will be fine with Curtis. Matt and Rieva have started settling in, and he’s got Pidge”

“I didn’t say he didn’t”

Keith’s thumb paused over his phone. He wanted to tell Lance how much the apartment sucked... yet... if he did that than Lance would worry. The apartment didn’t really suck. It was clean, styled around the primary colours, plus green and black. Not his colour theme, but not hideous and not Lance’s house

“Am I allowed to send him photos?”

Photos would say what he couldn’t

“Not of the outside, or from the windows. It’s for our safety and his. You’ve got your private phone, but if you lose it, it’s safer it doesn’t trace back to this place”

Keith nearly rolled his eyes, feeling like he was channeling a little Pidge as nearly corrected Shiro over “GPS” being a thing. Pointing that out would mean Shiro would probably say no to him sending photos

“I’m going send him photos first. He’ll be worried”

Shiro sighed at him. They’d picked up the keys from Coran, so it’d been like 2 hours since he last saw Lance. Talk about being pathetic

“Keith, you only saw him this morning”

“So? It’s not my fault it feels weird being here without our things. We were supposed to take this move thing slow”

“Coran wanted us...”

“I know. Let me message Lance, then we’ll go shopping”

“Okay, kiddo. You want to pick a room?”

He kind of had to. Keith knew Shiro knew he was in a flunk over moving. When they’d come back after meeting with Coran, the first thing Lance had done was wrap his arms around him and welcome him home. Was it stupid he wanted that for here to. He wanted Shiro to wrap his arms around him and welcome him back? They’d kind of moved on from doing that and Keith had forgotten how nice it felt.

Out of the three bedroom, Keith picked the one with the least amount of light. His sleep schedule had been pretty messed up before Lance came into his life. Insomnia had come with the job, long nights of tossing and turning unable to switch off after work. Lance soothed that. He didn’t question Keith’s nightmares. He didn’t make a scene or a fuss. And Keith was grateful for that. Coran had tried to make the bedrooms more homely. The beds were all queen sized, each with a flowery duvet cover and small crappy trinkety things on the bedside table. His new room was okay in it’s own way, if you liked something that looked like it’d been put together by someone who was at least several decades out of style. Taking photos, he hesitated before sending them through to Lance. He didn’t want Lance to feel he was rubbing this new distance between them in his face, so followed up with “I wish you were here”. He hoped that didn’t sound too lame. He already knew he was being stupid and lame over the move. He’d lived for his job for so long, that he really should be used to it.

“Why am I not surprised you chose the room with the least amount of light?”

Keith tried to act like he hadn’t been so absorbed in waiting for his messages to be read by Lance that he hadn’t jumped at Shiro’s voice behind him

“Because mornings can go fuck themselves?”

“Keith, I know it’s hard, but this is a fresh start for both of us. I think it’s what we both needed. Adam wouldn’t want us to be stuck on his memory. He loved you, kiddo. He’d want you to be happy”

Playing the Adam card was a dirty trick, because Keith knew Shiro was right. His brother probably had a lot of bad memories in Rome, and hell knew he wouldn’t miss James and the rest of the werewolves

“I know. Do we really have to go shopping?”

“Unless you want to start our night with figuring out how to eat the sofa, then yes. We really have to go shopping”

“Fiiiiine. I’m getting a new cover for the bed”

“I don’t think Coran will mind”

“I don’t care if he does. Lance said he’d judge me on me, but he talks so much about Lance that it’s kind of weird”

“Well they have known each other longer than we’ve been alive. He’d got to be better than Iverson”

“Iverson can suck my dick”

“I didn’t know you felt that way. Better not tell Lance”

Keith rolled his eyes. Out of all his instructors Iverson had been the worse. Always going on about how he could do better. Always going on about how he should be more like Shiro and Adam. He’d punched him hard enough to detach the man’s retina in his left eye. He felt like shit for it. He’d very nearly been thrown out of it, but Shiro had stepped in. Needless to say he hated him even more after the incident

“Lance and I are taking things slow”

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t want Iverson to...”

“Say that again and I’ll punch you in the dick”

Shiro gave a laugh

“Okay. Okay. Point made. It’s not every day that you mind out your brother is into older men”

“I’m not. It’s just Lance. And stop making me talk about him. I don’t like missing him”

“You don’t want to miss him?”

“I don’t like feeling like I’m on the other side of the planet... I feel like... like something’s going to happen”

“I know it’s hard, but he’s not alone”

“That’s the problem. What if he turns into a bat?”

“Then they’ll cover it”

“What if he goes into heat and something happens?”

“Keith, he was perfectly okay on Sunday, and we’ll be back in Garrison for the weekend. If anything happens he has your number”

“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”

Keith stared down at his phone, Lance hadn’t replied yet. He didn’t like that Lance hadn’t replied. He was probably busy with the others, but what if he was busy he forgot about him? Coming up behind him, Keith was lifted off his feet by Shiro, his brother dumping him down on his new bed, before collapsing next to him

“I forgot how big you’ve gotten”

“You’re just getting old”

Shiro snorted at him. Keith huffing as he slapped his brother’s stomach

“Geez. Thanks for that. Look, it’s a new relationship, I get it”

“I just feel like...”

“Lance isn’t about to forget you. He isn’t about to skip town. He’s probably busy making lunch for the others”

“I know. I feel stupid for missing him”

“Nah. Not stupid, only human. Now, can we please go shopping? I’m starving”

“Lance fed you this morning”

“So? All this morning has me hungry”

“What moving? It was three bags and your suitcase. You could have at least packed clothes for me”

“Let’s not dwell on my mistakes. This is going to be good for us. I can feel it”

“Yeah... maybe”

That was all the enthusiasm Keith could muster. He really was pathetic. He’d survived all those years without Lance, a few more days wouldn’t change anything.

*

Saturday took its sweet time rolling around. For an underground complex, VOLTRON wasn’t as bad as it seemed. There gym complex was kind of awesome. It had everything Keith could ever want from a gym, including a pool which he was excited to try out. Thursday had been all about testing physical strengths, once they’d been through full medicals... his heart passing with flying colours. Friday gave him flash backs to high school he could have done without as Coran tested their base knowledge with written exams. Allura had offered to show them the sights around the city, but Keith wanted to do that with Lance.

It wasn’t that he disliked Allura, she was just someone he didn’t know. Friday he’d tried out the gym, sensors stuck to him so Coran could analyse the data. The man pointing out the few jumps in his heart rate which he delighted in pointing out coincided with messages from Lance. Lance sending him stupid gym work out memes, despite Keith telling him Coran was monitoring his physical condition. He’d turned into one of “those” people in the last three days, those kind of people who waited for every message and leapt to check their phones at the first chance. He’d never been that before. He’d never worried over what to say, or cared what kind of face he was making. Shiro called it his “Lance face”. Keith called him stupid. He missed his boyfriend and when Saturday came, he couldn’t have been happier.

Having barely slept, thanks to over thinking seeing Lance again, his two coffees didn’t agree with him during the car ride. Shiro had to pull over twice because he’d gone pale, his stomach rolling the whole drive. Apparently the car came with the job, it wasn’t anything remarkable, a plain sedan designed to be like the other thousand plain white sedans in Platt. The only difference being it was teched up, and carried a small arsenal in the trunk in case of emergency situations. Shiro thought he was hilarious as he’d bought a solar dancing thing for the dash which was a vampire whose head and arms moved. Keith could only groan at him, supposing it was better than a dancing hula girl. If he’d said as much out loud, Shiro would have made it his mission to find one, so the hunter wisely kept his mouth shut.

Pulling into Lance’s drive, Keith nearly threw up as his nerves bloomed on top of everything. It felt like every time his social worker had pulled up at next foster home. He’d be there for a time, proven too much effort, then move onto the next family. By the time reached Lance’s house, Lance was out the front waiting. Blue trying to escape from his hold. They’d finally made it and the drive couldn’t have felt any longer if Shiro had actually tried

“I didn’t think my driving was that bad”

“I think I used the wrong milk”

Shiro had his own milk. Living with Lance, Lance automatically swapped to lactose free and he hadn’t given it any other though. Not all milk turned his insides into a pit of boiling lava, but apparently Shiro’d found another brand that did. Maybe it was easier to hide his butterflies under the guise of bad milk when it meant ignoring memories of the past

“I’ll swap it out when we get home. Need help getting inside?”

Keiths stomach gurgled, Keith hoping things weren’t about to get any worse than this in front of Lance. Lance could probably hear them... he didn’t want his boyfriend knowing. He was grown man. He shouldn’t be this nervous. This was Lance. He had no need to be nervous in front of Lance, plus, what would he say about Keith showing up sick?

“It’s an upset stomach, not a broken leg”

“Okay. Let me know if it gets any worse. I can pick up something from the chemist if you need?”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion”

“I forgot how moody bad milk makes you”

Shiro was lucky he was his brother. He wasn't being moody... Shiro should be grateful he hadn't brought up Curtis, like a moody anger loaf might. They might need to check on Matt, Rieva and Lance, but Keith would bet money that Shiro and Curtis were a hell of a lot closer than his brother wanted to admit. But no. He wouldn’t say that. Because he wasn’t moody.

[empressxmachina]

Welcome Home, Sasha - “Two”. by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me)

Show some love to the picture seen here, “Lt. Sasha”, and its artist Alexandra Hodgson over on ArtStation. It inspired this entire story.

     The change in lighting was glaring, blinding Sasha as he walked forward. The vacuum of atmospheric particles following the path of least resistance brought and flew dust toward and onto his form but not enough to be an endangerment of any kind. White noise and low, mechanical hums soon dissipated into the nothingness of nature enveloped around him. His echoing footsteps were replaced by the crunching of minuscule dirt mounds beneath the treads of his feet. Hearing them brought back Tshepo’s bizarre directive; however, the expanse around him had more of a hold on him, causing him to pause and take it all in.

   Aside from the onyx and violet-trimmed Demeter, all Sasha could see was a planet’s red desert-like landscapes: the mountains almost meshing into the horizon, the bulbous clouds going across the heavens yet looked within arms’ distance, and the speckled earth below with its cracks, canyons, and craters as far as he could tell. All of them glowed like a crimson colored screen had been set over its light.

   In Sasha’s vista, light rays peeked through the sky puffs, but they didn’t clarify what kind of solar system he and the distant admiral were in. There was no way to see the number of suns here. Illuminate everything in sight was all they did, such as the shards of reflective surfaces of presumed water in the far distance. Having it accessible could imply that terraforming the place might be worth it. That would be the case if it hadn’t already been done.

   If Sasha’s running theory about his location was correct, then any more terraforming would laughably overkill.

   “Damn, Ki,” Sasha breathed, almost fogging up the entirety of his helmet’s glass. “Your testing mission must really be important if you couldn’t even tell me we were going to Mars.”

   He was shocked and confused, having ended up in a place so far from one home and so, so close to the sister planet that was his other. There weren’t many red planets as far as he knew of the billions or so in the Milky Way Galaxy that had ruby surfaces and sky. As long as they weren’t controllably corrosive, they weren’t necessarily a problem. But, having been terraformed for over two centuries, Earthlings had already made a comfortable place and/or new home for themselves there for all to know throughout the cosmos, adding Mother Nature’s blues and greens across the landscape… or, at least, he thought they had.

   Novis was usually always in the know of the red rock’s doings on the daily, and Sasha had visited several of its colonies a few years – Earth and Martian ones – ago, seeing some of the civilizations for himself. However, the topography of this area wasn’t familiar, not matching up with anything on the most recent update of the Martian maps he thought he had memorized. Olympus Mons or any other notable prominence didn’t appear to be in sight, so there weren’t any major, natural landmarks from which he could work out where exactly on the planet he was.

   No area looked this barren as far as he remembered: no flags, beacons, or anything. It looked too similar to not be Mars, yet it was still different. If that were truly the case, then things had definitely changed since the last time Sasha was there, but there was only one way to prove it.

   “NAIMA, ready.” With Sasha’s single instruction, the innards of the helmet finally awakened.

   NAIMA, the Novis Artificial Intelligence Management Application, lightly flashed green icons on the window, symbolizing all of the functions accessible upon first use. However, just like within the Demeter, the exact details of the location were still hidden. If Sasha didn't know any better, then he would’ve figured that the systems to detect them were either encrypted for only Tshepo’s eyes or just straight up broken. Neither option seemed reasonable, but perhaps that was part of the mod testing… somehow. Checking the livability of a place was as simple as going down a checklist, and that is exactly what Sasha did.

   “Analyze all central stars inbound,” Sasha commanded, making sure to enunciate this time. The last time he wasn’t clear, and there was almost an extinction of five rare plant species.

   “Scanning,” the AI robotically dictated, with the chirps of LIDAR sensors measuring the skies. A few seconds of patient, systemic silence passed, and NAIMA announced its findings with a chime of completion before returning to its standby state. “Scan complete. One orbited star found.”

   Something told Sasha to look into how far it was or if there were any other bodies of interest, but the verification of the singular sun was enough to please him.

   “Estimate rotational bounds,” he then instructed. Knowing the length of a day on the planet meant knowing how long to live.

   Another lull met his ears. The sounds of his thoughts and life force were allowed to echo before Sasha’s suit rearranged its sensors not up toward the clouds but down toward the ground, surging through his legs and vibrating his feet. From what NAIMA showed on the screen, some sort of thermal imaging was being implemented through the soles and treads to detect the planet’s core below while a signal was continually sent out of the toe area and tracking the arc that he and thus everything else was making across the celestial sphere. After what felt like forever, it was finally done… but not without hesitation.

   “Uneven surfacing and turbid atmosphere lead to heightened uncertainty,” NAIMA announced to Sasha’s surprise. “Do you still request the results?”

   “Turbid?” Sasha repeated to himself, taking heed to not set off the AI immediately as he looked back to the skies. “It’s just Mars, right? This is just like how it was before terraforming… and that’s not good, is it?”

   Only after saying it did Sasha realize the implied severity of the statement - his face melting into a concerned frown at possibly hundreds of years of Earthling efforts reverting into nothing. Tshepo’s silence helped nothing, either. But, Sasha could only do so much to help if he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure where he was, and thus the investigation carried on.

   “Results requested,” he validated, receiving a near-immediate response from NAIMA.

   “With errors considered,” it replied, “the estimated time for one global rotation is twenty-four hours and twenty-one minutes with thirty-three minutes of uncertainty.”

   “Huh. That’s not exactly the twenty-four and forty I remember, but it’s close enough,” Sasha approved, only barely curious of the skewed measures. “Maybe they finally figured out how to gradually match up the sols with days over time.” He was one to look at the bright side of things when it seemed promising, but here, doused in Tshepo’s confidentiality, pulling out various what-ifs and buts were just as easy. “That doesn’t mean they surged its revolution speed, though,” he considered. “It’s probably still half-fast, and that wouldn’t have anything to do with all this red being back, would it?”

   As visually traumatizing the scarlet and all of its connotations generally were, that didn’t mean they were physically dangerous, and that, like everything else, could also be checked. But Sasha was confident in his safety: way too confident for Tshepo’s liking.

   The cabin-cloistered leader's voice went completely silent as he watched his more or less baby brother/son go against all basic protocols and begin unlocking and removing the helmet that blocked him and his airways from the openness of the atmosphere and all the emptiness that spread past it. If it had been a field exam on Novis, then Sasha’s thorough but few analyses would have failed him almost immediately. He only needed to give one more specific request to NAIMA, and his actions would have been plausible. But, no, he was too high in his own head to question it. Luckily, as the young soul hadn’t gone far, Tshepo and the Demeter were still in close range in case things went awry. Even luckier, the air was not only existent and breathable, it, minus a few fluctuations, fit all of Novis’ guidelines for livable space.

   Sasha was in the clear in both mind and airway, and he didn't hesitate in reveling in it.

   “Ah,” he exhaled, willingly breathing in and letting out as much as air as possible as he held his helmet in his hands. “That’s some good air, right there.” As clear as the helmet’s window was, its vista was nothing in comparison to being fully immersed, nothing to block the peripherals or cause a glare, even though NAIMA could’ve easily adjusted for both.

   Tshepo had one hand going through his hair and another clamped over his mouth, watching and listening to Sasha cheer for joy and praise himself over his proven prowess of examination. Well, it was mostly praising. For a brief moment, Sasha did realize the error in his ways, pausing with mouth agape and even longer face at how, in harsh truth, he could’ve killed himself. He could’ve just died – been dead – but he wasn’t. He wasn’t because he was right, and the smile came back as quickly as it went.

   Tshepo was nearly out of his pilot’s chair with his eyes glued onto the screen and its image before him. Yet, rather than an authoritative scowl hidden beneath his hand, there was a familial smirk. A happy Sasha was always nice to see, no matter the reason why, no matter how dumb he was in his intelligence. However, like his underling, that happiness fleeted from his own truths: those that called them for this mission that only they could do.

    “Sasha,” Tshepo sighed through the cockpit’s microphone, breaking his viewing silence and flash of contentment, “remember why you're here.” Tshepo’s message was almost lost through Sasha’s euphoria, but the distant muffles did reach his ears from his helmet’s inner speakers, at least enough for Sasha to remind himself of the task at hand.

   “Oh, right, the mods!” Sasha exclaimed, securing the helmet back onto its locks. The protection wasn’t needed for any changed breathing as far as he was told, but Tshepo hadn’t set up any glasses or lenses that could visualize all the supposedly new functions for whatever reason. Thus, the suit continued to be the projector, ready for action. He took a stable stance, dissolving his cockiness with professionalism, and instructed to NAIMA, “Engage BSv3 initialization.”

   “Bio-Sight Version 3, new update by Azikiwe comma Tshepo, commenced,” NAIMA announced mechanically as usual.

   Sasha couldn’t hold back a snort, hearing the AI attempt Tshepo’s full name. There had definitely been some tweaking in the pronunciation department, thinking back to all the jumbles spouted through the various version one updates. It was definitely more fluid than ever, but alas, it was still off. The same could be said about the new sets of icons and detectors and the additions to old ones that stretched translucently across his entire vista. There was just as much glow naturally in his eyes as the helmet shined into them, and a gasp escaped him.

   “Jesus, Ki. How long have you been working on this?” Sasha wondered in awe.

   As if knowing that the now-barren, terraformed Mars was an anomaly just by looking at it, the earthy expanse was decorated with a radiating grid, blocking off and measuring in square meter intervals in all directions. Well, all except up and down. In place of the emptiness of space, the mods sat in standby filling the visual field with a simulated cyberpunk cityscape: more than interesting enough to be a screensaver of sorts. Sasha really wanted to know how or why Tshepo programmed them, considering he was supposedly just proficient at biology and not computers, but his superior’s silence left him hanging, and thus he moved on.

   “Alright, fine. Don’t answer me,” Sasha sneered. It was with harmless intention; he’d find it a challenge when he wasn’t being watched. “I’ll figure it out eventually, but for now…”

   Sasha scrutinized the set of functions, trying to figure what each one held behind its icon without actually choosing it. No previews were available upon his eyes hovering over them, so his choice would be based on only intuition. Eventually, that led to him to one viable option, exactly what Tshepo hoped and thought he’d choose.

   “…let’s go with this,” Sasha settled, voice laced with curious uncertainty. “NAIMA, execute, uh, Carbon Camera?”

   “Carbon Camera launched. Detecting life forms within range.” The AI looked past the wavering in his tone and commenced the program, sending a new scattering of signals along the ground, periodically beeping and pulsating along the way until it eventually died down to a low but omnipresent echo.

   With the little information available about the application, Sasha assumed it would go for the most general scan, painting the ground in blue, green, or whatever contrasting color Tshepo chose for at least all the microorganisms burrowed in its dirt and sand. To his surprise, the output was worryingly scarce.

   “The camera must have adjusted itself,” he figured, gazing over the sprinkling of sapphire-shining found forms across the horizon. “It has to be filtering only for macroscopic organisms and only certain ones at that. Even so, it didn’t seem hot enough out here for it to be this desolate.”

   When he had taken his helmet off, Sasha’s breathing hadn’t been noticeably lessened. Sure, the air seemed thicker and dirtier than what he last remembered, and if it were a fatal concern, then NAIMA would’ve overridden controls and wouldn’t have allowed for exposure to it. Knowing Tshepo and his trust in his machine, let alone him being aware of all its and Sasha’s happenings out there, he probably wouldn’t have let the boy do it, either. So, it wasn’t that it wasn’t livable for anything, at least not at that moment. There just wasn’t anything around.

   Barely.

   Considering that Sasha would’ve probably only found their sources on accidental approach, and their glows being no different than those tens to hundreds of mapped squares away, the few blips nearby were promising enough to at least examine for a little while. Though, really, it'd just be done to refute that the Bio-Sight mods were pulling values out of nowhere. So, he did, initiating a beeline for one straight ahead.

   Sasha went a few paces, intermittently checking to his sides and behind him that the distant visuals weren’t changing or detecting anything new. There was some solace in the consistency. However, looking back at the Demeter brought back another reminder from Tshepo, the one he gave before Sasha left him.

   “Tread lightly?” Sasha repeated, questioning himself and pondering over what seemed like a light concern. “Why would I need to do that? There’s barely anything here.” But then he thought about it. He came to a halt and looked down, not so much at his feet but the ground itself. “Unless…”

   The relative fatality of bacteria and other minuscule organisms can’t really be helped, no matter what Sasha did. The suit had a hovering or flying device, but a powerful thrust into the ground and whatever was on it beneath him would be needed to lift him first. The soles had treads, so not every piece of dirt had his pressure on it. But on those that did, only the microbes probably had enough resilience to handle it. Though, that was obvious. It was underneath the surface that made Sasha worried.

   With all of his flouncing around earlier, the sudden appearance of him and the Demeter, and what he now believed were heavy footfalls, it was likely that he was seen as an invader out of nowhere to any unsuspecting fauna, scaring them to burrow underground or run away. Usually, it was him that ran away from intimidators or at least attempted to be a name without a face. To think of himself as the one inflicting fear unsettled his stomach.

   Sasha shook, almost immediately checking the undersides of his feet and the craters of his footprints for any animal that may have been caught or buried in his crossfire. The redness and spottiness of the dirt and soil made looking for bits and pieces of anything problematic, but with nothing large in sight, he calmed once again. Soon enough, he restarted his gait toward the closest unknown beacon with footfalls as close to floating above the surface as he could be without actually being off the ground. Little did he know, he would find himself deeper into it when he got to his destination.

   “What the fuck?” he inquired, at least reaching the target on the screen. At least, it said he did.

   The pinpoint rippled and chirped, centered right in front of him, but all he could see lying there was what looked like a broken sampling of brush, barely visible out of the ground below him, mostly burrowed by dirt if at all. It was concerning and confusing: the chaparral’s magnitude trivial to the earthy expanse that surrounded it. But believing the Bio-Sight found it for a reason, Sasha chose to examine further, kneeling to inspect at closer range.

   A hand grazed the soil, dusting for a fossil or some decomposing being with what had to be godlike floral camouflage. Yet, the more he brushed away dirt, the less he found, just finding more and more ground greeting him. He persisted all the while as the mods’ sensors never let up. However, it took the blips’ bleeping becoming an annoyance after an extensive period for him to realize his trials were in vain.

   “For fuck’s sake!” Sasha shot through gritted teeth, shaking his head in anger. He wasn’t sure if he was madder at himself or the machine that housed him, but not reaching a scavenger’s climax from either was a pain. A thought in the back of his head reminded him that it all could’ve been part of Tshepo’s trials, but care was quickly fleeting as the beeps felt louder. “Don’t keep pinging if there’s nothing—!” A curse to the wind lingered on the tip of his tongue until it and all his stress dissolved at the sight of his shoveling glove. “Oh.”

   Tests on NAIMA back in the lab previously made its number of useful qualities seem extraordinarily large, so its finding shouldn’t have been as surprising to Sasha as it was. Though, there was no way he would’ve been able to predict seeing it.

   He barely saw it himself.

   An insignificant shard of sorts found itself embedded to the tip of Sasha’s finger. From the naked eye, it had to have been a shard versus a splinter or something similar based on its sheen alone. Curiosity took hold of him, along with just not wanting to accidentally crush the thing by his touch, leading him to enhance his suit’s sensors and examine it closer. A quick zoom-in later, and what was once a dot in his window expanded to push at its walls with its new girth.

   A metal stake now greeted him, chipped and scorched in places but still stable. Scorched: a fire had gotten to it, somehow. Looking up, the clouds could have reflected a storm to come, possibly mirroring a past squall in which a spark may have, well, sparked on the ground and caused such burns. Though, the scalding wasn’t even down its length, giving more validity to a lightning strike. Even its tiny but vivid heatmapping showed promise for a bolt. Yet, one so precise toward such a small object seemed irrational.

   “There was obviously heat on this thing,” Sasha commented, rolling the petite pole across his finger pad to check its full surface. Spots and speckles of scorches were spread all over. “But, from where?”

   The average Martian temperature in days of old froze liquid water without trouble. Nowadays, with its terraforming and all, there wasn’t much to say against the possibility of a heat wave. Sasha’s current location on the rock, wherever it was, did look deserted and desert-like, fitting for increased warmth (and coolness at night if one wanted to be technical). Though, out of everything, it was probably weather-related. But, of this intensity? Surely, he would’ve known of that already.

   Novis and all those living on it are meant to have details for any large event, especially natural disasters and phenomena, on all of the human-based colonies. The best guess for whatever happened had to be a volcano or other geyser going off sometime recently with remnants of its eruption finding themselves on this sliver. Yet, no sizeable Martian spout he recognized was in sight. There was a likelihood for a celestial interference, whether it be an asteroid becoming a meteorite, the Sun flaring up, or something else, but that should’ve been a solar systemic emergency if not just a simple news declaration.

   This was neither, at least nothing publicized. Then again, Tshepo was hiding something from his knowledge, but why hide an emergency? If one is on a mission to a dilemma, and they take someone with them, then why leave them in the dark?

   Why would Sasha’s best friend Ki leave him ignorant intentionally, let alone lie? The only times either of those ever happened was when… when…

   And, just like that, with a look back into his past, Sasha had a clue, and he needed to know more. But this was his test, after all, so he knew he had to find it himself... no matter how much it would hurt.

   Feigning a lack of knowledge complemented with confidence was a skill of which Sasha had all too much. His voice, if he used it, was crisp. His heart rate was slow and steady. Anything Tshepo could and did check at the moment was fine. By Sasha’s luck, there were no cameras inside his helmet or on his suit at the moment to reveal how panicked he truly was. He still wasn’t sure about what he had found, but given how he found it, he would know the truth soon enough.

   Tshepo sat quietly in his seat, waiting for any sort of new response from his amicable underling. He knew Sasha was thorough, but this seemed ridiculous, and he was growing aggravated. Even with the data he deliberately kept hidden from his eyes, he figured the boy would’ve verbally denounced Mars as an option by now. Were his systems failing before his eyes? Was Sasha taking care to go down a list of every similar planet of every system and galaxy he knows? He was so silent, and with his knelt back to the Demeter, Tshepo, now rightfully so, was left in the dark.

   However, it wasn’t much longer until that annoyance transitioned to absolute concern.

   “Sasha? Sasha?” the leader repeated, voice growing shriller each time. With every call, he sounded more and more like a broken record. Eventually, he was truly desperate. “Sasha, say something. Please.” Even at the eventual ultimatum he knew would come, the last way he thought Sasha would react was total silence.

   No words escaped from Sasha’s lips, but if his vocal cords were in use, then the sounds that he would’ve managed to make out of them would’ve been incomprehensible babbling. Through the panic that was visible on his face, he could only imagine the cries for answer howling from his senior were related to it. No matter what the case was, Sasha figured he wasn’t going to receive any sort of solace unless he made a moral move for himself. It just sucked to do so, since any extraneous move in the physical space and he probably would’ve missed it… and irreversibly kept himself from ever finding it. Most of his psyche didn’t want to take the plunge toward verisimilitude, yet it knew just as well that he’d regret it if he didn’t.

   In what seemed like an instant, as Sasha took a deep breath, all of the vitals’ trackers monitoring him inside the Demeter began to flare, detecting sudden changes in his systems. Tshepo’s worrisome wails only magnified, attempting to echo over them to get through to his still stagnant, ace apprentice. When he finally did, he found it just as difficult to hold back his own tears that Sasha had, at last, let flow.

   “K-Ki,” the sheepish space soldier whimpered his senior’s name, trying so hard to continue analyzing the eccentric splinter on his finger pad. All the while, he hoped most if not all of the hypotheses that he was now starting to predict for it would fail to be reached. “I know… you’ve been lying to me, and it needs to stop. N-Now.”

   It was never the intention to hurt his friend, but there was absolutely no way he was going to be okay unless he was a sociopath. Shy, sure, but Sasha Keeling had way too much sympathy for others for it to be an uncertainty. So many regrets immediately ran through his mind, worthy of pulling hair out. Yet, would they have made it this far if he hadn’t kept his mouth shut? Would Sasha have kept his mouth shut long enough for them to get to a point where he could cry without punishment, just like now? There was no way to tell, but there was a lot left to say.

   “No assumptions. No bullshit. No matter how bad it is.” Sasha continued, struggling to stay composed through his internal conflicts. But he knew that he had to be, going right for the big question. “Ki, w-where are we?”

   At this point, there was not enough moxie in the universe to make Tshepo say anything. No, he could say one thing, and he did say it but not until its point was already proven true. NAIMA had been hiding features for long enough. Now, it was true to set them all into action… with a wounded sigh. Sasha heard it, fearing its meaning until the train of bleeps of notifications and surges of data disturbed the shallow peace and set his viewing window ablaze with glows.

   Its radiant information reflected onto Sasha’s eyes, becoming more legible as they grew wider and wetter with reading. Immense doubt and dread engulfed him, only to be magnified more by the reason for it.    A new multitude of speckles detected by the Carbon Camera — things and souls that once breathed, believed, and built — ran across the entirety of his view toward the horizon. Yet, its suspected volume seemed to be less than his own. That of the collection of metals and other solid flakes and dust bits scanned was only a bit more and just as sprawled over the ruddy expanse. Such miniature tangibles against his previously not-so-grandiose frame were sickening to imagine one-by-one, putting life or use into them. However, the qualities and measures NAIMA gave of his location that couldn’t be touched so easily were the cherries on top that sent him into full nausea by doing so anyway.

   The same atmosphere, ground structure, and climates Novis simulated and tested against but not as extrapolated overall. The same rate of passing time in a day that gave some form of order on Novis on which the space soldiers could build a circadian rhythm. A similar view of the sky and its life-bringing star that Sasha repeatedly projected in his room sans the scarily turbid, crimson monochrome.    The history and culture behind a flag he had never gotten to visit in person. One of the thousands that stood the tests of the past to get him to who and where he was in the present. It now laid atop his finger as a dirtied trace of a fabric corner on its burnt metal shaving of a pole. A symbol of the numerous, microbial places and people now visibly scattered around him. Maybe under, too. Flaked like glitter. Unmoving if not unthinkably eradicated.    It didn’t need to be said, but Tshepo did and locked it in indefinitely, “Welcome home, Sasha.”

[johnandrasjaqobis]

Do 27-30, 34, 39, and 41 for Jarek, April, and Carly. And Sam if ya feel up to it.

so many NICEwhich means they got long soo have a cut

Jarek27: SleepHe is 100% the type to have the actual “bought as a set” pajamas, but also the type to barely manage to get his shoes off before just immediately falling asleep28: Homeso many books – on shelves, on tables, under tables – which, considering how much more expensive anything actually printed is, shows the boy’s status as well as his just being a giant nerd29: BedroomJarek tried the whole minimalism thing back home for a while. It lasted maybe two weeks. His room on the base is generally some kind of legitimately controlled chaos.30: SexDonny consistently tries to get him to talk about Marcus, which wouldn’t be too bad if Marcus weren’t also the boss’s nephew and said boss had the tendency to just stare into middle distance whenever the name comes up in the office.34: AffectionHe’s all about the pet names. It gets rare for him to actually use Marcus’s real name after the first few months of them dating.39: SecretBecause Murphy is a kind soul, no one found out about the aftermath of Jarek’s interview for years. (He really did think it was the exit, why do the normal doors and closet doors look exactly the same, come on)41: MemoryIt’s like, just at the edge of eidetic. Jarek memorizes anything he reads ridiculously easily, which is why he’s so good with procedures and case law and the like, but he’ll forget someone’s name five minutes after being introduced to them.

April27: SleepStraight up does not move. It’s a little creepy, actually. There’s usually an instinct to check to make sure she’s still breathing.28: HomeShe legitimately forgets just how ridiculously huge her house (and property) is until anyone else visits. It’s still consistently full of people, somehow, despite only one of her sisters living there full time.29: BedroomExtremely organized. To-do lists, calendars, the works. The only time any room April occupies might get messy is directly after some days-long case, when she’ll throw everything on the floor and sleep for twelve hours. And then immediately clean it when she gets up.30: SexShe would visit her university-professor-mom’s class pretty often when she was little, and ended up learning far more than said mom had anticipated from the students’ chatter.34: AffectionApril is the Mom Friend through and through. She takes care of people by making sure they have water and pain killers after a night drinking, scolding them for trying too many weights at once in the gym, keeping cough drops on hand Always,and if you’re gonna do something dumb, you might as well have someone ready to post bail.39: SecretHer title and her place in line to rule are really all just technicalities – a ton of people on Praemia are in the same situation, it’s just the way the planet is – but she’s absolutely terrified every time that number goes down. She wants absolutely nothing to do with ruling a country.41: MemoryShe’s always been excellent at remembering names and faces. It comes with a lot of practice of huge family dinners and political meetings.

Carly27: SleepShe either takes up the entire bed or like, no space at all, and there is no in between.28: HomeCarly and her dad only moved once when she was a kid, a few years after her mom’s death. He still lives in the same house to this day and insists on staying until he retires, because it’s a lot easier to be a somewhat useful cop on Iabos if the community knows you.29: BedroomEvery one of her rooms since joining the Bureau has been covered in stuff. She settles down surprisingly quickly, and has a continuously growing collection of art to fill the walls with.30: SexHer dad trying to have “the talk” with her probably remains the most awkward situation either of them remember, especially when Carly had to correct him on a few points because “I go to public school, dad, honestly”34: AffectionIt’s hard to tell when Carly actually starts to like someone. The only person she’s any kind of obviously affectionate with is Donny, and that’s just because he always is the one to initiate it.39: SecretShe has a good number of tattoos on both legs, and the general assumption is that they’re just abstract designs, like a few of the paintings she owns. They’re actually a sort of topographic map of sections of Iabos with colored lines marking the routes she and her little group of storm-racers took.41: MemoryCarly doesn’t remember a whole lot about her mother. They have pictures, and she has a few fuzzy memories of the two of them out shopping, but most of her growing up is just firmly cemented as her and her dad.

Sam27: SleepShe is an extremely light sleeper, but can also fall back asleep in like, three seconds. It was a necessary skill with four younger siblings.28: HomeHer parent’s place is one of those houses that just always has people. Her mom has all but officially adopted several of each of the kids’ friends and practically all of them know where the spare key is, so there’s always just someone letting themselves in and raiding the fridge (especialShely now that all of the boys’ friends are college-age).29: BedroomSam had to draw a map on the back of her hand in order to find her room and the office her first few days on base. She’s fine with finding her way outside, because the sun actually sets in a consistent place30: SexIt was definitely very unexpected to discover just how comfortable a bunch of coworkers were with their discussions. She sort of got used to it -- things happen when you literally live down the hall from each other -- and then had to get used to it even more when Donny came back.34: AffectionShe is a hugger. All the time. These days she’s good about making sure the other person is actually okay with hugs, but Sam will hug practically anyone who will let her. (Jarek dared her to ask the Director once. She still hasn’t taken him up on it.)39: SecretIt’s not common knowledge that she failed her first combat test. She’s improved quite a bit since then, but it’s still something of a sore spot.41: MemorySam is the type to pull a “Oh remember that time” about something that happened like, two weeks ago, that everyone was there for.

[dustedmagazine]

2016/2020: Patrick Masterson

If what you came to read was my 2020 wrapped, here: Yves Tumor’s Heaven to a Tortured Mind was my favorite album. HAAi’s Put Your Head Above the Parakeets was my favorite EP. Oleksandr Yurchenko and Svitlana Nianio’s Lichy Do Sta Symphony No. 1 was my favorite reissue. Overmono’s take on Rosalía’s “A Palé” was my favorite remix. Protomartyr’s “Processed by the Boys” was my favorite video. Equiknoxx’s Vinyl Factory set was my favorite mix. Lil Baby’s “The Bigger Picture” was song of the summer. The best show I saw was SuperKnova at Chicago’s Sleeping Village in February. My Spotify account doesn’t reflect any of this.

What follows is an unused essay for The Believer’s Distancing series that Dusted alumnus Daniel Levin-Becker ran for most of 2020. The idea behind the column was to write something personal about an album that took you to a space away from quarantine’s confines. I’d intended it as a kind of spiritual companion or prequel to the essay of mine that ran in May, but I think it functions as an endnote for this year just as much as it would’ve for 2016, when I sat out Dusted’s year-end features. Call it making up for lost time.

As I get older, I’m often reminded that music doesn’t save and it doesn’t really heal the way I once thought it could — but it does let you feel, which is to say it lets you know you’re alive. In a year where government ineptitude and personal irresponsibility actively worked against that, music took on added importance for its normality. Artists kept releasing. I kept listening. The ritual remained. I don’t know what 2021 brings the same way I didn’t know what 2017 had in store, but I do know what I’ll be doing until my ears finally fail me. Over my dead body is right. Thanks for reading.

- - -

Distancing #XX: Rojus (Designed to Dance)

Hitler, man. Fucking unbelievable.

I laugh at the thought, leaned back and following the shadow of an umbrella to shield my sunburned skin from further exposure on the main floor of Larcomar, an open-air mall carved into Lima’s Pacific cliffside, watching paragliders take off at regular intervals and nursing a bottle of Cusqueña in the final idle hours of my trip down here. My youngest brother is across the table, sunglasses on, shaking his head, then nodding like the Alonzo Mourning gif as he nurses his own: Yeah, we did do this, didn’t we. We met Hitler in Peru.

Well, sort of. That’s how I’m going to lead off the story of what I did for Christmas 2016, anyway. The truth is less sordid, no zombies: We’d been walking aimlessly the evening before around Miraflores, a neighborhood that never seemed to end and stopped at the sandwich shop La Lucha. I ordered a jamon y queso (relearning Spanish on the fly, needless to say, has its limits) and was rung up by Wilson, a very ordinary name, and served up by Jitler, which… I don’t know, maybe I’m the only person in line who gave it a second thought, but say that with a Spanish accent and it sure seems like something you, as a parent with even a vague awareness of the last 100 years on earth, wouldn’t risk naming your kid unless you were looking to prompt a lot of questions already answered by your kid’s name. Right? No fucking way? Unbelievable.

I tip the bottle back and think over how that hasn’t even been the best part of this trip. The best part, truly, is the bread. If I asked my friends to name three things they know about Peru, they’d say Machu Picchu or the Incas, probably ceviche, maybe coffee or pisco sours. They aren’t wrong, but there’s a more right answer: I haven’t had bad bread the entire time I’ve been in this country. From paninis to pizzas to hot dog rolls (what can I say, I panicked staring down a sizable menu and a dog just sounded right in the moment), every loaf or slice or roll has smelled tremendous and tasted better. I’m sure of it now: There really is something to breadmaking by the sea, as any defender of a New York bagel will tell you.

Is Peru the only country I’ve never eaten bad bread in? I take another sip, can’t remember.

On the other hand, why is every napkin here half-sized and single ply? It feels like you have to fight for each perforation of napkin no matter the buttery goodness of your bread. Maybe paper is just valued differently or people are neater here, but I’m sure of this, too: There has to be a reason the same way there’s a reason the bread is good and the straws are so big and the restaurant and bar hours are strange and only one guy does all the Liga 1 commentary and you can’t check into a flight until three hours before, but security for it closes two hours before and the gate is 15 minutes before. I have a lot more than Conversation in the Cathedral to read when I get back, I think. There’s a lot to be explained.

For example, what I’m even doing in Peru for Christmas to begin with. It started as a joke, I’ll tell people: I got hired in May for a job after being unemployed for seven of the previous 13 months. It took nine years, but this was finally the position I’d wanted since I graduated, the role I felt I was put on this planet to fulfill, and in this aspect of my life at least, I was relieved. My friend had planned a New Year’s Eve wedding and the logistics of bumming around friends’ couches or staying at my parents’ house for more than a week didn’t quite add up, so I told my brother, wouldn’t it be funny to go somewhere weird for Christmas instead? I’ve never been to Calgary or Albuquerque or Little Rock. Then it was Cuba, then Argentina, then Peru — hey, my brother says, I’ve got a friend who knows the country and is all about us going down there.

We check the flights. It’s laughably affordable for us both.

Like a lot of my trips in recent years, then, the logistics escalate quickly from theoretical to real: I play around with dates, times, connecting flights and strange airports in an effort to game the system and get a little bit extra trimmed off the cost. We commit to plane tickets, a hotel, itineraries. He gets phone numbers of people his friend knows down there. Where in Newark do you want to meet up before the flight? How far can we go once we’ve arrived? Is there anything we collectively need to see? Isn’t this dumb and delightful? And that’s it, crucial questions answered, pieces in place: I’m visiting Lima.

Everyone should travel like that, I think, watching another paraglider set off. In one way, I’m thinking about all the ridiculous pieces it took to put me here. In another, though, my mind is as far away as we are from Chicago. I’m stalling, trying not to think about what’s happened back home. Two weeks before, I was in Charlotte enduring grade school friends’ condolences like it was a funeral instead of the wedding it actually was. “I heard about what happened.” “I’m really sorry to hear about you and.” “I was looking forward to finally.” And so on. For someone who usually has so much to gab about, I still haven’t worked out how to say what I’m really feeling. It’s crushing and confusing when you think you’ve found the most powerful relationship in your life and effortlessly reached a kind of platonic ideal, the kind of intimacy most people go their whole lives not knowing — and then, slowly, you find it’s less true than you imagined, find something more powerful. Nothing can prepare you for what you can’t ignore. I have no idea what institutional oppression is like and I’ve done nothing but benefit from a system designed to serve me, so I feel too guilty to admit to anyone I’m an emotional wreck when their grandparents are dying and their worlds are changing and we’ve just elected a self-important cartoon for president, but there is always a “but” with stuff like this. I remember the bar in the hours before I left for Newark where I was tired and thirsty and tired of being thirsty, the train ride to O’Hare, pausing to look back before I passed on through security. There is always a reason.

All of that was the old world, I think to myself. This, though? This right here? This is the new. I think back to the intramural soccer matches we watched after downing the sandwiches and moving on; for all we know, we might’ve been watching a fourth division game out there. Beautiful palm trees, incredible summer weather, pull-ups on the beach, pisco sours with the hotel staff as a transgender game show host soundtracked our Christmas countdown, Brenda and Renzo and Callao and Christmas day turkey with a family I didn’t know and bubblegum soda and Barranco beer and Cerro San Cristobal and cherimoya slushies. Typhoon evacuation signs. The modern art museum. Lanes and turn signals as suggestions. Far away clears my head.

I know what I’m doing even when I don’t always know I know what I’m doing and God has that gotten me in some trouble, but I know what I’m weak for and I know what my strengths are and I think I know how to play it better yet. This is where I start to get myself correct, stop being my own worst enemy. I have a plan. I’m going to straighten things out and get my mind and life in order and all this pent up fear, this sadness and disappointment and self-defeating anxiety, is going to show itself out. I exhale in relief at the anticipation of it: Yes, 2016 was a bad year, maybe my worst, a year I never want to go through again — but 2017? No, I can feel it as “Blush” rolls around in my head and I watch another paraglider set off from the cliff and out toward the sun, the sea: 2017’s going to be a good year. A really good year.

Hitler. Fucking unbelievable. I take another sip and laugh again. What do you think, I say, one more and then we go? Rory nods. One more.

Rojus (Designed To Dance) by LEON VYNEHALL

[misadventures-phan-can]

Chasing Phantoms ~ Prologue

It was not meant to be.

A Mother clutched her month-old daughter close. The ship shook, fire danced in the corner of her eye. Outside, a dark figure loomed. Another ship, the attacker, raining bolts down on its prey.

Oh the life they had planned. The love, happiness… The hard times and anger, sadness. All of it they were prepared to face together, forever. But not this. Never this.

The child she held in her arms cried, either from the jostling of her mother’s running, or the loud, terrifying sounds of battle that engulfed the ship whole. Soon, soon they could escape.

The woman felt terrible. Torn between the men and women of the crew that had helped her so much, the urge to stay and fight for them like they were for her… or her daughter, her Star, and the life she would surely have if she took an escape pod and ran.

The Captain knew what choice she would make, the crew knew. No one held it against her, even as she rushed away, no time spared for goodbyes. He only looked at her, stoic as always, nodding once. She smiled grimly, the first hit rocking their ship on its axis. She ran. The Captain turned and started barking battle orders. That was the last she ever saw of them, the valiant crew and their leader.

It was not meant to be.

It was hot as hell on this planet, the humidity in air stuck to the skin, only adding to the sweat that formed over faces and arms- for the humans anyway. Men and women alike wore sandals as they walked down solar-paneled sidewalks. Bicycles casually rolled past on the sidewalk separate from the pedestrian path. Every few feet the solar-panels displayed the image of a figure walking on the appropriate lane, and little bike signals on the bike path.

Leafy, flowering vines grew up telephone poles and hanging baskets dropped down within reaching distance, most full of small pitcher plants to help control the insect population. Although the wild variety​ smelled like rotting flesh, these small domestic ones smelled like overly ripe fruit. Edible plants and berry bushes hung down as well, such as ripe red strawberries, plump peaches, juicy oranges and many others, both from different planets and native to Linus.

Natural bridges went over highways for both human and fauna safety alike. Every block had a shaded solar charging port surrounded by benches, walkways that led to the beaches, bicycle racks and parking lots. The skyscrapers in the distance grew with greenery, bearing a strong resemblances to the massive forests surrounding most of the coastal capital.

The community, whether native or not, enjoyed this planet’s climate immensely… however the foreign General felt his sweat squelch in his thick military boots and under his formal uniform. The locals merely wore bikinis and shorts, with only the rare few daring to cover up with sundresses and tank tops. He had only been here for barely half a Standard Galactic Day, and already he hated it with determined vehemence.

The man stopped under some shade, both to catch his breath and check in with Head Quarters. Taking his communicator off the clip on his coat, he clicked it to the correct signal.

“General reporting, Sir come in, Sir.” The man states, pressing the receiver of the little device, all the while shaking sand out of the speakers despite it not having been exposed to the beaches at all.

“Oh hun, always so uptight and formal… you couldn’t just lay your head back and relax for the day could you…” An effeminate voice chimed through static from the other end. One could just imagine him in his Cat’s eye sunglasses, filing his nails. The General fought back a cringe of disgust.

“They didn’t know about the mineral… they don’t apparently use much mining resources… pride themselves on being green, having low impacts on the environment and all that… A biologist I found along the shore did not suitably help… he was more concerned with some species of cat beasts and a slug…”

“Ah yes….” The man on the other end of the line hummed. “I heard about those cuties. I think I may have seen one earlier today… maybe two if wolves in sheep’s clothing count. Very adorable little things, really. It makes me want one…” he hummed in a slight airy manner, with noticeable emphasis on the want.

“Sir, I do not think it a wise course of action…”

However within moments he was walking down the sidewalk to visit the flea markets, casting cold, grey eyes along colourful stalls that seemed to sell everything on this planet. From exotic fruit and meat, to equipment for ships, Earth antiques, and every species imaginable living on Linus, which seemed as good a candidate for ‘pet’ you could get, in as loose a sense of the word as possible.

He decided upon a particularly dedicated looking vendor, which was really just a collection of small play gates and cages full of animals. The first creature to greet him was a many-eyed reptilian-looking cat with 6 arms. It started growling- the man assumed- for it made a repeating, aggressive ticking sound combined with a series of rattling snarls. Eventually it turned to lay contentedly under a heat lamp. Then, he saw an odd looking snake whose eyes seemed to jut out like a chameleon’s and whose tail wrapped around a branch like it had a mind of its own. A certain scaly thing even vaguely resembled a dragon. But one species in particular caught his eye. If one had lived on Earth, in its golden age, one would compare it to a cute, chubby baby otter. To the people of Linus, they were Mimics. And, to the people who knew what they were capable of, limitless sources of potential.

The stern General was, however, hoping he wouldn’t have to go through with this tomfoolery.

Approaching the manager, or owner of sorts, he cleared his throat and presented his dilemma.  

“I need a pet for someone… a Service Dog like animal. Something smart. Something vicious.” He said, with a glint in his eye.

“Ah, is it perhaps for that special lady in your life? I mean, it all depends on what you want smart for exactly…” The manager replied, the local Linus lilt colouring his speech as he scrutinized his latest client.

The man grimaced, disgusted by the latest developments. He supposed one could call his Commander a ‘special lady’ alright… special with a helmet maybe.

“You pry too much…” He retorted, in a very smooth, very dangerous tone despite his apparent anger. “I came to ask questions, not to answer them…. I am here for a Mimic.”

The vendor- thought he seemed slightly dumbfounded- laughed heartily. “Pardon my manners, us mainlanders don’t mean to pry as much as we do. Should have just been straight forward- we got a whole litter. I hear even the SDF are starting to use these guys. I do warn ya, they aren’t pets. With ‘em little guys it’s like adopting a kid of your own…”

He motioned to a small group of Mimics, round chubby faces with antenna like whiskers. One seeming to be a small white female, another a large dapple grey, the third a grey with a black back and light underbelly. The fourth, and final one was a small black, and white male, standing just slightly taller than the female.

“That one right there, he’s a smart one I’ll tell ya.” He says pouring some milk into a saucer with a small amount of cat food. By the time the dishes were placed in their pen, the “alpha” Mimics were chittering and hollering loudly. Already they had started to mimic the noises of the animals surrounding them. The small black and white male remained silent as the two others pushed and shoved, snapping at one another for the food.

“Chester, come over here boy.” The puppy, though young, seemed to have a natural aptitude towards this sort of thing. He stood up his hind legs, prancing up and down as if he were a kangaroo jumping in delight before the dish was placed down in front him. Followed by another one for the other two Mimics.

While the two grey males fought over who would drink first, the black puppy stared at them. When the moment was right, he snuck his snout under their chests to stealthily pick dish up carefully in his mouth, all the while pushing the other with his flippers. Once his thievery accomplished, the small male sat by the passive white female, with whom he shared his prize. She pressed up against him, affectionate, but most certainly shy.

Then, suddenly, the black male looked up at the scowling General, their gaze locking. A galaxy of blue ocean waves and worlds of the multi-hued coral beneath seemed to scrutinize the man’s very person- for he had no more soul. They glowed with multitudes of deeper secrets, hidden thoughts he would never see. Perhaps it was intelligence. Or maybe not. Was it, perhaps, something more?

It didn’t take long before the Grey’s realized what had happened and approached. They bristled and snarled, copying all sorts of offended animal calls. The black male, Chester, simply looked at them before growling and making a noise that the man had heard before, upon approaching the stall. The Mimic pup got up on his hind legs and made a noise resembling the roar of one of Linus’ big cats, albeit softer and smaller, babyfied, almost. Now, before the Grey’s, stood an almost perfect replica of the reptilian, six armed cat who slept a few cages over. The male’s siblings retreated in a frenzy, fearfully whining high pitched screeches that made the General want to shoot them. But nevertheless. If his Commander had stated he wanted a pet, he would have his damn pet. And if it was to be, the General would make sure its usefulness would be maximized. He would make damn well sure. And if he was to be stuck with an overgrown, doggish copy-parrot, he would make sure it wasn’t a dumb overgrown, doggish copy-parrot. This would be it. 

The man spent the rest of the day carrying an unstable cardboard box, with holes punched in the top, under his arm. Heavily annoyed, very unamused. Little did he know, this was the beginning of 15 years of annoyance and un-amusement.

Next: Chapter 1 - The Cloak

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

K

dry wet shoe ten long stay yellow watch inch cup time words same six bones black child ear most page work white five arms snow main nine water head eggs rain test seven root law fall cow red doctor baby feet room rule one blue dark legs wind skin ball green two ever car body box orange gave door four europe picture wish purple ready try neck brown through sky grass air sign whether dance pink eight drive too sat gray three hit man love hand the of and a to in is you that it he was for on are as with his they I at be this have from or had by but not what all were we when your can said there use an each which she do how their if will up other about out many then them these so some her would make like him into has look more write go see number no way could people my than first been called who oil sit now find down day did get come made may part

1.1

anything syllables past describe winter even also eleven moon fruit sand apple women nose solve Math problem plus minus equals stone pants shirt starry thousand divided just train shall held short lay dictionary twelve suddenly mind race clothes learn picked probably raised finished end plaid years bill place hundred different drop came river milk beautiful square lake hole fingers flat sea type over new sound take only little work know live me back give most very after things our name good sentence man think say great where help through much before line right too means old any same tell boy follow want show around form three small

1.2

interest job because such think thirteen subject answer letter meet north length need times divide (by) times table edge soft months present energy point sound log south wide members exercise flowers set found things heart cause site brother teacher live read billion another distance written kept direction developed wall east happy million world must house turn west change well twenty felt put end does large big even here why ask went men land different home us move try kind hand picture again off dress play spell air away animal page mother study still learn should America

2.1

paragraph weather window third believe discovered simple gone paint new store form cells matter follow perhaps cannot good means around line center kind reason move forest sentence return instruments beside represent wild study back farmers sum difference product quotient remainder mother animal land region record summer general caterpillar scratch modern adjust passenger promise equal creak almost croak book dainty song high every near add food between own below country plant last school father keep tree never start city earth eyes light thought head under story saw left don’t few while along might close something seem next hard open example begin life always those both paper together got group often run

2.2

misty poor caution pest phrase life startle squirm alone centaur rise mountain above illustrator footprint temperature decorate country sweat sometimes hair smiled everything began thick compass themselves enough took although splendid crowded second act attach sly talk wonder let’s whirl someone Africa borrow beat belong blink per fasten pain begin drenched bed shell free earth tiny slippery count factors important until children side feet car mile night walk white sea grow river four carry state once book hear stop without late miss idea eat face watch far Indian real almost let girl mountains cut young soon list song being leave family it’s

3.1

drowsy bashful hatch glad copy possible wicked grin sibling shovel run verb sail polish ride young steep case Indian laughed soil appear bolts costume melody narrow behave howl example flee together lot filthy alarm spiral selfish idea conductor fight rolled middle glacier tree dizzy gather sneaky already construct every miss lively metal couldn’t gold plant mask chat nation hear either bundle section near rescue face divide sob celebrate family loosen jealous crash chimney daily own cozy ripe cut son natural serious carry care paper broken cue within body music color stand questions fish area mark horse birds problem complete room knew since ever piece told usually didn’t friends easy heard order red door sure become top ship across today during short better best however low hours black products happened whole measure remember early waves reached

3.2

being instead ache exactly hard speed buy age late artistic close affordable fraction eyes appetite complain sleep seem eat below remove rusty grow glum stormy trust enormous scale open add grab upset weed denied expensive story terrified lead jumped died basket side bear bend list tomb while batch grateful father gleaming dress light sprinkle amount exclaim result yank leave cheat whimper angle outside remain heap champion surprise dodge moment fancy squeeze pretend village shriek city thunder rapid iron striped don’t attitude bell hat tug isn’t applause children honest cross spring freezing listen wind rock space covered fast several hold himself toward five step morning passed vowel true hundred against pattern numeral table north expert slowly money map farm pulled draw voice seen cold cried plan notice south sing war ground fall king town I’ll unit figure certain field travel wood fire upon

4.1

pattern cave hope mile group travel blush killed seed bottom hide important let ticket timid pounds restart silent cranky keep real bright quite curved repeat trip without dart consonant mountains quiet apologize roar grip groan bolt food injury century exhausted cabin atmosphere floor it’s scold transportation delighted giant hill something build fog method rough left everyone obey deserve speak therefore soon french switch until pushed state knob hobby between surround collect fire I’ll arrive road happened certain top order astronomy inches club catch farm nibble color yourself received connect told gaze check wear English half ten fly gave box finally wait correct oh quickly person became shown minutes strong verb stars front feel fact street decided contain course surface produce building ocean class note nothing rest carefully scientists inside wheels stay green known island week less machine base ago stood

4.2

round award crowd slowly yet products, goods, services vowel himself strange whose draw team hold feel flood sent save stood yard notice warn enemy deep please flap coast music wrote safe blast behind island lizard figure famous garden correct whisper listen joined clear share net thus calf maybe cried piece fold seen england decided bank fell pair control clean telescope trouble glass float morning horse produce course hunting rest step statement contain shouted filled zigzag accident cents instrument fly single express visit desert seeds chew dome experiment break gravity against branch size low plane system ran boat game force brought understand warm common bring explain dry though language shape thousands yes equation government heat full hot check object am rule among noun power cannot able six dark ball material special heavy fine circle include built

5.1

mark wealthy row feeling across attention ran map students inside design art mouth ring skill hot during shelter full till log (book) blossom discard bring quickly scientists party town covered wise early cram grain harm goal pause inform heal clue fame freeze badge pimple dim missionary diet dumb rod march agree stick government bulb mall ban greed skiing poison stove image grew fact material dangerous flow gap ago stack explain didn’t strong voice true drawing surface gift corner cloud since king dawn pulled dozen friends greedy burning upon knew insect decimal nervous pay foot weak smooth aware steady serve lost nonetheless beach front atlas questions less cost slight motor banner wire area carefully separate equation local minutes fast table plan fine waves fair sing dive suppose boat thousands shape among toward gas factory birds wait understand sure ship report captain human game history reflect special brave bounce though else can’t matter square syllables perhaps bill felt suddenly test direction center farmers ready anything divided general energy subject Europe moon region return believe dance members picked simple cells paint mind love cause rain exercise eggs train blue wish drop developed window difference distance heart site sum summer wall forest probably

5.2

include cage language base red brain building feast better built demolish excess leap tower ocean plains cold claw information scholar climbed woman worry strand heavy herd common ground damp pack choose president least increase half english invent class measure dash tremble object become doubt became bare wheels continued shiver engine core couple business stars week peak numeral brought nothing touch reached uncle symbols however rumor evening inasmuch (as) force curious heat career system valley dust flock spray robber practice lonely remember luxury warm heard calm rock frighten leader difficulty best gum cheer key support universe stream bit usually fish parade balance money note cliff stand proof you’re pale machine complete cool shown street today shy easy several search unit war power caught settle itself fuel mention fresh planet plane straight period person able direct space wood seal field circle lady board besides hours passed known whole similar underline main winter wide written length reason kept interest arms brother race present beautiful store job edge past sign record finished discovered wild happy beside gone sky grass million west lay weather root instruments meet third months paragraph raised represent soft whether clothes flowers shall teacher held describe drive appreciate structure visible artificial

6.1

afraid absorb british seat fear stretched furniture sight oxygen coward rope clever yellow albeit confess passage france fan cattle spot explore rather active death effect mine create wash printed process origin rose swift woe planets doze gasp chief perform triumph value substances tone score predict property movement harsh tube settled defend reverse ancient blood sharp border fierce plunge consider terms vision intend total schedule attract average intelligent corn dead southern glide supply convince send continent brief mural symbol crew chance suffix habit insects entered nursery especially spread drift major fig diagram guess wit sugar predator science necessary moisture park ordeal nectar fortunate flutter gun forward globe misery molecules arctic won’t actually addition washington cling rare lie steel pastime soldiers chill accordingly capital prevent solution greek sensitive electric agreed thin provide indicate northern volunteer sell tied triangle action opposite shoulder imitate steer wander except match cross speak solve appear metal son either ice sleep village factors result jumped snow ride care floor hill pushed baby buy century outside everything tall already instead phrase soil bed copy free hope spring case laughed nation quite type themselves temperature bright lead everyone method section lake iron within dictionary bargain loyal resource struggle vary capture exclaim gloomy insist restless shallow shatter talent atmosphere brilliant endure glance precious unite certain clasp depart journey observe superb treasure wisdom

6.2

prepared journey trade delicate arrived track cotton hoe furnish exciting view grasp level branches privilege limit wrong enable ability various moreover spoil starve dollars digest advice sense accuse pretty wasn’t industry adopt loyal suggested blow treasure cook adjective doesn’t wings tools crops loud smell frail wisdom fit expect ahead lifted deed device weight gradual respect interesting arrange particular compound examine cable climate division individual talent fatal entire advantage opponent wouldn’t elements column custom enjoy grace theory suitable wife shoes determine allow marsh workers difficult repeated thrill position born distant revive magnificent shop sir army struggled deal plural rich rhythm rely poem company string locate church mystify elegant led actual responsible japanese huge fun meat observe swim office chart avoid factories block called experience win crumple brilliant located pole bought conditions sister details primary survey truck recall disease radio rate scatter decay signal approach launch hair age amount scale pounds although per broken moment tiny possible gold milk quiet natural lot stone act build middle speed count consonant someone sail rolled bear wonder smiled angle fraction Africa killed melody bottom trip hole poor let’s fight surprise French died beat exactly remain fingers clever coast explore imitate pierce rare symbol triumph ancient cling disturb expose perform remote timid bashful brief compete consider delightful honor reflex remark brink chill conquer fortunate fury intend pattern vibrant wit

7.1

capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

7.2

evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

8.1

apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

8.2

exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

9.1

stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

9.2

feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

[strangewriterforhire]

Some Bar, Some Where.

The music had a heavy beat to it, interspersed with a sultry tone’s of a woman’s voice caught amid its gears. The voice wasn’t in Anglos, nor Russian Trade or any one of the Asian quazi-dialects that had melded together when the floods came. It could have been Japanese J-pop, or New Korean NJ-rattle, or some other consonant with a ‘pop/sizzle/whatever’ added to the end. It could have been a classical piece murdered by a Dumb AI algorithm programmed to make music that people want to move with, or get away from with delicious alcohol. The fact reminded the music was loud, the bass turned up to the point of worrying anyone with dental work, and it hid the murmur of voices and deals being wrought by those not inebriated beyond reason. Of course the poor lighting, at least the glow panels designed not to strobe with nerve stuttering flashes, couldn’t disguise the low quality of the booze provided to the patrons of ‘Nexus’. The chances of the glass before him coming into spitting distance of barly hops, or any form of natural fermentation, were next to zero. But when you were out here on far edge of The Limb, you took what you could get. Still didn’t make the swill taste any better, but booze was booze. He now felt somewhat better about himself, the engineered fluid alighting across his brains neural chemistry to release a raft of endorphins. He missed real, honest to God, brewed in a barrel, alchaol. Good, honest, mind numbing alcohol added in by nature and not as a feature. He personally blamed the current state of the Union, the worlds spanning conglomerate of nation states all braying for their slice of the action. The Union taxed every gram of matter lifted off of the surface of a world, and taxed coded it for a destination with varying degree's of severity. At this distance from Scotland, Earth, Sol System Relay...a bottle of single malted goodness would be worth more than his life. Ship included. But hey, if he waited long enough maybe the Union would fizzle out? From United Polity before the Burst, and then it became the Unified Polities of Near Earth Space after the Burst, and now it was the Union of National Polities. UP, UPNES, UNP: that was a lot of hull designations to scrub off the nose cone of any ship. At least they kept the paint scheme roughly the same across the century and a half since mankind had burst free of planet Earth. This made ‘Polity Blue’ the cheapest per gallon across the Union and its neighbours to G-North and G-East. But that might also explain the amount of independent merchant skippers who just can’t find the dollars to pay for a paint job, and go out into the black with bare metal to the stars. “You said you had something for me?” The drinker said after a moment’s contemplation over his drink. Yavik Valentine rose from where he’d been slouching in his chair, his dreads flickering in sympathy to the strobes, and focused all four of his eyes on him. Oh don’t worry, Yavik won’t bite your hand off or anything like that. But its so easy to stereotype genies into their respective chimeric categories, that most folks just avoided registering the tiny black pupils set into recessed sockets above his brows. Somewhere in his genetic past some egg head from Earth, or that freak show Venus turned into, had thought hominid DNA and a dash of spider would be a great benefit to the species. A lot of ‘brilliant ideas’ had been made in those dark days, before Venus was intentionally nuked back into a furnace of radioactive particulates by Union sanction: Earth didn’t need a terraformed Hell a few light minutes away. But the fire hand't arrived fast enough before a new niche species of humanity had arisen: the genies. Genetically modified hominid gene stock with animal traits. Most live normal lives, and for the most part you‘d never spot them unless you went looking for them. But then you get examples like Yavik with his four eyes, or that NK-pop sensation Karim-2/40. She could well be living proof that bad girls don’t always change their spots, but when the fur grows out you might need to shave them. In Yaviks case what you ended up with was a scheming masterpiece of a baseline human with some odd optical genetics, twitchy reflexes that made them neurotic as hell, and Velcro like hooks protruding from their skin instead of follicles. This usually made T’antula genies cover up more than a nun in a nudist camp, and more often than not usually ended up with them working in the industries aligning with the production of medicinal canaboids. Well something had to help the grippy freak mellow out. Yavik ran a gloved hand through his dreads, a little pulse of blue light shimmying along them as he did so. “Might do, might do.” He said slowly through a mouth filled with close knit narrow teeth, his eyes still looking deeply into the face of his companion. “Course what I have, as a business man, don’t come free ya see? Ya wanna see what I got, ya gotta pay up front.” “Interesting sales pitch seeing as I got the call from you to meet you in this dive.” The drinker retorted gently, taking another sip of his drink and wincing: coudn't his taste buds take the hint and die already? “I stand corrected: a dive would have better swill than this.” “Hey man, hey!” Yavik cooed, as he slowly sank back into his chair “That's the finest glitter gin this side of the Limb, you treat that with re-spect.” The drinker hated it when people put extra definition on their syllables. If this turned into a paying job, something worthwhile, his rate was going to go up just for that. He gently pushed the drink, now identified as glitter gin, across to Yavik. The T’antula took a single look at the gesture, and almost dived across the table to grab it. The drinker might be a expert of boozes and rot guts, but he was all for drinks that didn’t make you blind when they got to your optic nerve and made you see things. “There, you happy now? Can we do business?” he asked, as Yavik hungrily licked the rim of the glass, his four heavy lidded eyes overflowing with pleasure. The genie merely nodded slowly, reached into his jacket and extracted a battered PassPort from within. As the jacket slid open, the drinker took a second to admire the interior lining for all the latest accessories that were all the rage this season. No guns. No gas. No knives. Maybe this was on the up and up? “Yeah man, yeah,” Yavik sighed contently as he barely held himself upright in his chair and slid the PassPort over the table top. “Yeah we can do business. PassPort’s name is Oronoco, ask the little lady that which you wanna know man.” The drinker eyed the PassPort, before gently flipping it open to reveal the complex gold and platinum design carved into the interior. As quantum computers went, PassPorts were on the low end of the scale. But given all QuantComps are parallel processing super geniuses to begin with, even the ones on the low end of the totem pole ended up being insufferable know it all’s. He placed a hand gently over the gold etching on the PassPort, and allowed his left eye to close. But instead of utter blackness, or the simple loss of depth perception, a woman appeared as his implant mugged his optical nerve in a dark alley. And as soon as he saw the beige coloured uniform, equipped naturally with beige coloured beret, with the cyan blue shoulder boards with that single white tassel braid, the drinker knew he was in trouble. “Implant tag identified: Lieutenant Commander Damien Kitcher. Union Navy ID 33K56-A2. Status: Deserter.” The woman, or more precisely the generated self image of a genderless computer spark, had a trio of seconds to state that name and rank before he yanked his hand free of the PassPort. His eye snapped open, closing off the connection between the PassPort and his optic implant. That didn’t in any way change the intensity of his glare at the laconic drunk on the other side of the table. “Sorry man,” Yavik said with an easy grin, his sense of self preservation already checking out of Motel Lights Out. “Lady paid first, and Union dollars are pretty sweet.” In a split second Yaviks fate was decided: Kitcher didn’t have the time to give the T’antula the proper beating he rightly deserved. His time was now rapidly running out, and the damn NK-rattle music wasn’t doing him any favours. He stood up, watching as the glass of glitter gin soared into the air as his leg struck the plastic table top. He glanced towards the clubs entrance. And right into the smooth armoured faceplate of a Union marine. The troopers armoured carapace shimmered from full active camouflage into something more solid and imposing, looking nothing unlike a cobalt blue human shaped beetle, with semi automatic death on its mind. His eyes flicked from left to right, and caught sight of the similar fuzzy blobs marring his vision: the one at the door was for show, the others scattered around the room were the hazards. They’d be the ones with fingers on triggers, the ones with orders to shoot first and ask question at some predetermined point in time after his blood had cooled to room temperature. So instead of leaping for the exit, of making a break for the service door behind the bar, or even in using Yavik as a human-ish shield, Kitcher slipped back into his seat with a growl. “You’re a dead man.” Kitcher said through tightly pressed together lips, as more of the Union troopers flickered into being. They began to usher the crowd out, using their armours echo assist to basically toss the free floating revellers up towards the entrance portal to Nexus and out into street. The music hid the screams and shouts, but one look at the soldiers made people realign their priorities. “Might be, might not be.” Yavik said lazily before he slowly pushed up from his seat, leaning over slightly “Then again maybe I ain’t the one to be a dead man shortly? I’m just gonna skip out, seeing as this part of the meeting ain’t mine.” “No, it’s mine.” Came a thin, reedy voice that matched the figure of a older man that slipped into Yaviks chair the moment he left it. Tall, almost deathly pale in skin colour, his morticians complexion complimented the funeral suit of midnight black with its high choking collar. The skin over his bald skull was pulled tight, giving his small eyes a constant surprised look. But it was the opal blue eyes, to bright by half, that gave him way: ManKin. Or to put it bluntly, in the parlance of the 20th century, a robot. And ManKin liked working with numbers, problems, and the horrendous political orrery of the Union. Add in the marine guard, and his presence in non Union territory, meant the man in black was working for only one organisation. “Clockwork.” Kitcher said bluntly, looking at the man as a thin smile spread across his lips. He nodded at the still open PassPort. “She one of yours as well?” “Oronoco?” the pale man asked with a slight nod. “In a way. Like any good Union citizen, even a artificial one, she is serving her Polity with national service. Quite diligently so, I hasten to add. Maybe she, like myself and others, will find her higher calling within the Union Navy? Who knows? But as I am sure you know, Mr Kitcher, service can be a harsh mistress. But it is a mistress that holds our freedom hostage until she is done with us.” The ManKin reached out and closed the PassPort. “And that mistress is not finished with you, Mr Kitcher.” Those opal eyes flicked to one side, distracted by some tidbit of information provided to him. Kitchen hated when machine's traded to ape human behaviour, It could be having a half dozen conversations and solving pi without appreciable lag in the conversation. “So you’ve come all this way to get me back in the grey and blue,” Kitcher said with a smile on his face. “I’m thrilled my tax dollars are paying for this will punt out to the edge of the Limb. Didn't know Charlamains Rock was on the approved travel list?” “Oh those tax dollar’s paid for a rather limited manhunt, after all the Union Navy has boarders to protect, worlds to police-” “Uprisings to smash, colonies to manhandle with gunboat diplomacy?” Kitcher finished. “In either case, we have found you. And I have been given full discretion by Earth to provide summary judgement upon your case.” The ManKin smiled, as out of the corner of Kitchers eye, two of the marines drifted down from the clubs upper dance volume. Full body armour, echo assist strength amplification, and what looked like a newer model of the Heckler & Kosh solid state laser rifle. They looked ready to take on a army singlehandedly, and sometimes that had been the case. “So...re-enlistment? Do I get back pay?” Kitcher asked, wishing he still had a drink before him. "At a Lt's wage bracket that could get pricey." “Permanent, non reversible neurological death.” The ManKin intoned darkly, his eyes narrowing down to azure slits as the two troopers brought their H&K’s up and levelled them at Kitcher’s head. The two dots of painted laser light now attached to his skull didn’t hurt, but should the troopers squeeze their firing studs he’d have a very interesting though pass right through his head before the end. The ManKin smiled. “Of course that is my choice, and it just so happens it is a choice I do not want to make yet.” The ManKin smiled and tapped the PassPort again. “I really did expend a lot of resource to find you Mr Kitcher, to offer you a job. Its rewards will see you free of Union complications for the remainder of your life, and you’ll be able to return to Union space. Its been a while since you’ve been home to Midowin colony Mr Kitcher, away from your family. I understand the Midowin culture prizes community and family, if I recall correctly?” The ManKin raised a hand, and if it were possible the two marines stances became more taunt and threaded with a delicate sense of impending violence. “Of course, if you choose not to listen to my job offer...” “I get it,” Kitcher growled and nodded to the artificial person. “Looks like you got yourself a ship and a captain.”

[psylid]

Fandom Fic Rec Days

Thank you to all fanfic authors whose skill & creativity has floored me since middle school, and who continue to share their beautiful work with the rest of us just for the sake of sharing it. You never get as much recognition as you deserve. 

Unfortunately, I used to have a very bad habit of forgetting to bookmark fics and losing them forever. Here are the ones I managed to keep. Some fics are old enough that I’m not sure the author even uses the account anymore, but I’m going to post them anyway. Have fun with my rare pairs.

HAT FILMS:

Title: boundless as the sea (11k words)

Author: ghostofgatsby

Ships: troffy, shatsome

Summary:  Trott drums his fingers on his desk, thinking hard. It had been a few days since he and Smith had talked, and something had occurred to him. He and Smith had been together a long time, but they weren’t bonded in some sort of magical way. It wasn’t until Ross and Sips came around that the idea of magical bonds had come up. The kelpie could use some closure, some grounding, especially as unhinged as they all felt. Something to bind them together would make their court stronger. To bind Smith to him and him to Smith, he’s doing it his own way. And that means selkie magic.

Notes: One of the stories that hooked me into UMY. Beautifully written. Emotionally intense in the best way. The devotion and trust between Trott & Smith rings from every word of this fic, and I adore it.  

**

Title: Hot Whisky Eyes (5.8K words)

Author: Roehrborn

Ships: troffy, hatsome

Summary:  Time and time again, Ross has imagined the unthinkable: his two best friends, naked and wrapped in each other’s embrace. ~IRL Hatsome AU

Notes: For all your (consensual) voyeurism needs with an angst/pining appetizer. Very good smut. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve read this. 

**

Title: Spring (3k words)

Author: leonandon

Ships: hatsome

Summary:  Breezes through windows, staying too long in bed, quiet intimacy and love, lazy morning sex.

Notes: I’m going to try very hard to not put the word “lovely” in every sentence here. Gently slips you into an established, comfortable relationship and it feels so, so nice. Soft and easy and intimate and everything I wanted; a go-to.

**

Title: Boys of Summer (31k words)

Author: threeplusfire

Ships: hatsome, shatsome

Summary:  “I’ll send the car on Wednesday morning to take you to the airport,” Sips said, in the decisive tone of someone very used to getting what he wanted. - The unexpected trip out of town seems like a perfect chance to escape the sweltering summer heat. But not everyone can relax, even in paradise.

Notes: First off, there is a lot of sex and the sex is excellent, high-quality. But, this fic is also (or mainly, rather?) a beautifully complex exploration of character dynamics: Trott’s relationship with Smith & Ross, how best to integrate Sips into their personal lives, and how best to separate all of this from their professional ones. Fantastic AU; stunning fic.

**

Title: Putting the D in Teamwork (5.6k words)

Author: SummerAtLast

Ships: hatsome

Summary:  “Trott.” Ross fixed Trott with his saddest puppy eyes. “Don’t leave me hanging, mate.” “Trott,” whined Smith. “Don’t leave me out.” “Really now, gents,” said Trott. “Teamwork. I can do you both at once.”

Notes: As a heads-up, this fic has the boys as their Minecraft skins, so I guess keep that in mind if you’re put off by non-human dicks. That said, I honestly thought I would be, but I ended up loving this fic a lot. It’s equal parts good smut and funny/filthy banter that feels very correct for the three of them.  

**

Title: Gives Me the Greatest Peace I’ve Ever Known (4.8k words)

Author: leonandon

Ships: troffy, hatsome

Summary:  Smith's way of dealing with things tends to involve running around in the middle of nowhere for a few days. Trott and Ross have never gone along, but this time Trott asks if he can join. Surprisingly, Smith agrees.

Notes: An absolutely gorgeous fic with ace!Smith, which was really exciting for me to find. I love the wilderness setting and the descriptions -- the space. The quiet, the easy affection, and being mindful of boundaries. Another one I’ve read over and over again.    

**

Title: what’s done in the dark will be brought to the light (8.8k words)

Author: vosiferous

Ships: troffy, hatsome

Summary: There is a rattlesnake of a man, one with a soft smile, a gaze that slices through souls, and a tongue that rattles lies like saliva. His blood is poison and his laugh are razorblades. He is a collector of fine artifacts, and he sees value in all things.If you are not careful, he will see the value in you.

Notes: This one is technically unfinished, but each of the 3 chapters are pretty much stand-alone drabbles. Dark and gorgeous UMY stories. The writing has a magic and other-worldliness to it that’s perfect for UMY and makes this a fantastic read. Heed the warnings.

**

Title: Layout (2.8k words)

Author: threeplusfire

Ships: alsipsy

Summary: Lots of comfort, pretty boys and sports. An AU about gymnast!Smith.

Notes: I just have a huge weakness for basically everything in this fic. Takeout, TV, massages. Toys. Sips taking care of Smith in the gym and out. A total feel-good fic. Relaxing and lovely to read. Yet another go-to.

MISCELLANEOUS:

Title: Not Such A Bad Way (5.6k words)

Author: _angelicorn_

Ships: Blue Beetle/Booster Gold (DC Comics)

Summary: (My own, since the author didn’t provide one) Ted makes some upgrades to the Bug, so he and Booster take it for a test-drive. After a disastrous engine failure, they end up stranded in space with no heat and help (in the form of Guy Gardner) hours away. 

Notes: More of my weaknesses. Huddling for warmth. Awkward sex. Best friends’ first time together -- slow & experimental. ANGST. I cry every time, but I promise it all turns out okay. I will love this fic always and forever because it’s such a perfect representation of these dumb men and their beautiful friendship. 

**

Title: The Policeman Officer’s Seduction (852 words)

Author: kyuuketsukirui

Ships: Nicholas Angel/Danny Butterman (Hot Fuzz)

Summary:  You ask someone back to yours after a night at the pub, that's pretty cliched, isn't it? And what could be more romantic than Point Break? But Nicholas just doesn't seem to get it.

Notes: Another best friends’ first time fic but this one is just cute and funny. Danny’s POV is perfect. If you don’t think this is exactly what happened after the movie, I don’t know what to tell you. 

**

Title: Happy Beginnings (2.7k words)

Author: ennui_blue_lite

Ships: Control/Tony (A Bit of Fry and Laurie)

Summary: Control has something important to tell Tony. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words.

Notes: So, my friend and I were kind of in love with the ABoFaL skits featuring Control & Tony Murchison -- spies for the British Intelligence agency. We decided as a joke to look for fic, but it just so happened that one of the only people on the planet who wrote Control/Tony fic was also really, alarmingly good at it. I can’t read this without smiling. If you have no idea what I’m talking about here, you can still read this fic, but you will have many questions about it and probably also about me. (You can watch one of the skits -> here <- if it helps.)

**

Title: None So Blind (25k words)

Author: Brianna Falken

Ships: Mirror!Spock/Mirror!Kirk (Star Trek TOS)

Summary: Spock convinces a blinded Kirk to allow him to create a mental link between them while they are stranded on an uninhabited planet after the shuttle crashes.

Notes: This fic was originally published in a zine in 1997, which I think is very cool, and it’s my favorite Mirrorverse story ever. About learning to trust and lowering guards, even when distrust and distance were all that kept them alive before. Intimate & vulnerable. Even if you’re like me and usually avoid the Mirrorverse, this fic is a lot less dark than most (but still kind of dark, so be safe) and a really good read.

**

Title: Lay Down Your Burdens (8.3k words)

Author: autotunedd

Ships: Choi Seunghyun/John Lee (RPF)

Summary: Tohn vignettes

Notes: Another instance where a friend and I looked for a weird pairing as a joke, but then the fic was so good that the joke was on us. This is Korean rapper T.O.P (of Big Bang) with John Lee, the director of a movie T.O.P starred in called 71: Into the Fire. There’s no brief way to explain why this pairing exists, so I will just say that this fic ruined me. It is so striking, quiet, and achingly beautiful that I was desperate for more tohn but there really just isn’t any. Even if you have no idea who these people are, I can guarantee you will find this fic incredible. I think you have to make an account, but it’s worth it, ok? It’s worth it.  

**

Title: The Cusp and the Fjords We Wade Through (9.6k words)

Author: almadeamla

Ships: Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh (The Walking Dead)

Summary:  Written for the twd_kinkmeme prompt: Rick and Shane had a thing before Rick met Lori.

Notes: Such vivid imagery in this. Matter-of-fact writing style that leaves so much unsaid but clearly understood (shows; hardly ever just tells -- mirrors the natures of characters perfectly). I love the tone of this fic to death. Bittersweet. Aches. So good that I sometimes forget it didn’t happen in the show (and other times I choose to forget). My perceptions of the characters were irrevocably changed. For me, this is the story of Rick and Shane.

This is by no means a complete list; I messed up and had to put this together just today. I’ve read so many excellent fics, but some of them were awhile ago. I didn’t have enough time to read through again and do them the justice they deserve in my notes. So, these are the fics I’ve read enough times that I’ll remember them forever. 

Thank you again, fic authors -- our often unsung heroes. 

[hanzi83]

Part of my Script for the Podcast

Here is a fun game you can play since most people who love to read or listen to my stuff, read along the script to see how much I ad libbed and how much I read. Trolls wanted to act like school children so I am going to treat you like school children and we are going to play cornball games like this. 

Podcast topics script 

It feels weird doing this podcast, and even though I have felt motivated doing this podcast for almost a week now, it just feels like people who have surrounded themselves by me online and have felt they have been a part of my life, whether it is them just forcing themselves into my psyche, where I am going to always think about them after making every move, because they know that I know whatever I say or do, they will be on top of it, and because I barely relevant in the grand scheme of things to the masses, I assume they think that I am going to always want them around because they are the only ones even talking about me, whether it is underselling anything I do that is positive, or memorize anything I have said out of irrational anger or just trying to joke around, they now have me in a bind where I am always going to have to address and engage the fucked up shit going on, especially spreading disinformation and making up rumors. Since I have started this podcast it feels like they will now attack a lot more aggressively because I am restraining from letting them have this much direct contact with me. 

It turns out the last episode was not even properly uploaded on Spotify or other podcast distributing sites, and I don’t even know how to fucking address it, was that done on purpose to show there is some censorship going on because people with power who might be close or far away are even shitting on any attempt for me to gain traction, and now they have found a way for me to have to be forced to get people’s help, or in my mentally ill brain, it will make me wonder if I am being fucked over by people claiming to be trustworthy, or someone powerful so the topic will always focus on the notorious trolls who have made a name the last year being really aggressive about the trolling and making sure I am living in fear, or does it direct the conversation back to Stern, because maybe in my head I am concocting this scenario where Howard will not let me get bigger, and will disencourage me from wanting to continue because they know it was a struggle just to start this basic podcasting shit, and now I am going to have to go learn how to fucking problem solve this distribution shit. It is fine, it is something else for you people to laugh at me about because even when I try to be creative and a little more productive, it becomes clear whether it is people in my life, my supposed fans or the powers that be don’t want me ever being on my own because they need me to be interactive with people who just want to remind me of every fucking insane thing I may have said or try to create rifts between me and others. 

I don’t even think people who I have become friendly with seem happy that I have decided to do something for myself, which is the criticism I receive the most from people, so when I do something on my own, still not sure if I am doing this right, or whether I will remain compelling to carry this out, or just not being tech savvy enough, I have gotten a few “I am proud of you” but for the most part I think people are scared of me being unfiltered even though I have stated that most of the shit on this podcast are from my delusional thoughts, and they are my theories. It becomes difficult because I listen to so many podcasts that wrap up and analyze politics, hip hop, wrestling etc, where I have now taken that for granted because I have become reliant on people spotting the interesting observations and analyzing it so my shit is just a reaction to that. Can I talk about the Childish Gambino album? I can barely articulate how to explain the different styles and instruments being used, all i can analyze are lyrics, and even now I am taking in so much hip hop to catch up on weekly releases, I don't even get to go revisit it again. Only joke I had for the Gambino album was that if I list off my favorite tracks from the album, people will think I am attempting to give away my router number in a drunken stupor. It feels like I have to come up with angles etc and if it has not become obvious I am reading this and I am sure writing it will come out better in my head than me attempting to reading it, and insisting on keeping up the fuck up because showing my mistakes seems to be the only interesting things about my stupid podcast

I know this take has been done to death on twitter or whatever echochamber, but I feel like I was a pioneer with all this social distancing shit. I have been exiled from everyone for so long and have spent countless nights sitting in my room in the dark, smoking a cigarette while the windows are open, just being depressed about not having anyone and then when I am around people, I don’t want to be around them because I find it more fascinating talking to myself and feeling my own thoughts and maybe that has to do with the fact that when I was younger I did not want to be alone with my thoughts. Like I did not want to even think about shit in fiction. Seeing Terminator 2 as a kid, being used to watching pretty PG kind of stuff, the part where the sun explodes and the entire earth is burning, I remember being freaked out and asking my friend if that could happen someday and he would say calmly “Yeah if there was a nuclear war” and it just made me not want to think about it and I would always want to be distracted because I was scared of having to think what is possible. I feel like people are now kind of going a little bit nutty by not being able to interact or go outside, and as someone who barely left his house since 2009 I assure you, you will survive this. 

I wanted to talk about the coronavirus shit but here is the deal, and this is probably why so many people who go the route of the lowbrow type of humor might gravitate to me, because realistically that is where my level of intellect should be because I have been so dumbed down for so long, I would wait for people who were smarter to kind of lead me, and agree with it even though I don’t know how to explain why the earth is actually round, but the evidence that scientists will tell you I will just pretend to understand and use their explanations and I feel a lot of people do that, even though the thing they are going with might be a fact but I bet if you got those people in a room alone to ask them off the record, a lot of people would be in admission that they have no clue, so I have no clue what the fuck is legit about this coronavirus, it used to be so simple just to have a few things that you sense as bullshit, but now with conspiracy theories also becoming a marketing tool, it has made me question that as well. Was it started in China? Was it planned from the US? Did Bill Gates do it since more interviews about him talking about the pandemic are making the rounds, are these celebrities really quarantined? Are they hiding in their bunker? Have they fled the planet and let their illuminati clones suffer? God damn man, tell me something. Some say this is to start a war with China, but if I think the Chinese government is corrupt and dangerous, then I am buying into neocon propaganda, but then if I think there are racial implications with taking advantage to this shit, then I am a hater of the US empire, because it is apparently okay to like US imperialism. There is so much to keep up with, and there are too many narratives. Maybe I need an illuminati microchip that can make me take all of this in and analyze properly because it feels like mentally I am 15 years behind or some shit. I just analyze the world like I think we are all in some reality show and the people who are the upper echelon and their associates of lower status are hooked up with some advanced shit. 

I feel like it is a serious thing happening, while some people are being Thanos snapped, but it is also a test run and all I am doing is being Doctor Strange and analyzing all the scenarios that are fucking possible of what could be happening. Will this be the one of the system’s sacrifices of mass people before a more deadly one is created. Is this a way to bring in more leftist policies and make an argument for socialism because if there were ever an event that is taking place that has given the best argument for it, it would be what is being so transparent with how businesses are acting, and how pretentious some of these celebrities are acting. They are supposed to be the villains now, so when you see a bunch of people circle jerking and singing the song Imagine, then you have Norm McDonald come out and give this overly religious message because being anti neoliberal, while making it seem you are anti left, makes right wing people think you are some hip dude because you are not politically correct

That is why I analyze shit the way i do, and I like being unfiltered while I am fucking wrong most of the time with my opinion, even though people have told me I am fucking right in some sideways like way but never bother to elaborate. I really think that this is all planned out, and there are good factions and bad factions. I believe people are having their last run as a baby face before they are revealed to be heels, when in actuality they are just playing heels. We are supposed to be calling it out, but it also seems that people that do call it out, do it with this far right perspective and maybe that is part of their propaganda to tell some truth, or maybe they are pretending to be truth tellers while still running a hustle. I have to think that we are far advanced, and maybe the people dying are being cloned for another planet, maybe the celebrities have escaped the system and are using their clones to fucking die on earth. I don’t fucking know anymore. It just all feels planned. I am not saying idol worship, which is a mistake we all have made, maybe some of you were smarter than most of us before, but it takes some of us some time. I still think they have really tried to hard over the course of the last decade to make it seem like people in the upper echelon are like regular people, and sure with emotions and depression and stress etc but I do think it is harder for them on some level because they are in a world with hidden people and have to embrace some dark ritualistic type of shit, and they make it seem relatable. Is this a way to crash the economy and is it for the sake of good or bad, because I think this whole Trump thing has been a way for people to be more woke and actually have a revolution, even if the whole thing is scripted, and the tragic thing is people will die. That is why in my fucked up brain I hope these people are spiritually somewhere else, maybe their consciousness will be transferred, or maybe there is another world after you die, and no I am not religious, but I believe we are far more advanced than we think. Am I right? Probably not. 

It is not all pretentious because I have enjoyed the hip hop element of storylines taking place during this pandemic, with the producers having their battles on Instagram live or Boosie asking women to put their pussy lips on live so he could then give her 1000 dollars. By the way because I think everyone becomes a character and a meme for social media, I am going to predict where this boosie storyline is going to go. He made some anti trans remarks, according to the T’s because he gave his opinion on Dwayne Wade’s daughter, and even though I think there is a sensationalized thinking of the worst case scenarios with this stuff, I do think there are people in the celebrity world who have agendas when they do it. Anyways I think with Boosie asking these women to strip for him, there is going to be a time where some chick is going to be shaking her ass and then she will somehow then reveal she has a dick, and then Boosie will react and he will become a bigger meme, and then to come full circle, it will be revealed to be a plot by the black fraternities he was beefing with a couple of months back. 

As far as the wrestling stuff goes, now here is where we go with layers. Let me preface this by saying whatever is happening with these institutions, I believe it is all planned for them. Since WWE is on the downswing, I don’t know if this will be a case of WWE doing well with what the hand they have seemingly been dealt, and people can toot their own horn that anything good that happens is when it somehow happens to be an accident, or maybe this is one situation where they are going to fall a part because they insisted on going on with this show when a pandemic is happening, so will wrestlers end up having it so we have more sacrifices and then people will really be outraged about WWE and mixing in the accumulated bad press they have received for other things. Maybe the bad press will be that instead of informing their fans of the safety of the wrestlers, they decided to pull the wool over our eyes and lie about Reigns being pulled so we assume the match is not happening. People will then think using a pandemic to pull the wool over our eyes was done in such bad faith. I don’t know what the angle they will decide to go with, but I know that there will unfortunately always be something that will be revealed about Reigns, because he is supposed to be a real villain, and lately he has been seen as a good company man and not talking down to fans. I feel like we are in the conspiracy era, and by the way it feels like America, which I have pointed out is like the attitude era just a little before Trump was becoming a political figure, and now in the world we are in the era of WCW shutting things down for couple of weeks and they rebooted it to start over with Russo and Bischoff. 

So I will be happy to talk more about wrestling but if you haven’t noticed and you can tell when I am reading, that I will probably mess up 15 times because even though this sounded good in my head writing it, it will not sound as clear because I tend to adlib a lot. But this podcast is a fucking failure and no one wants my vision of podcasts because it is not good enough until I give into how they want me to do it because it is not simple enough for them to move on to a next podcast but because they have entitlement issues over me, they think it has to be catered to people who have verbally jumped me everytime I log on, and then if they give me criticism I am supposed to just take their judgement as is and not add any context why i don’t react well to people telling me what I should do. If you are a real supporter of mine, you will understand the journey I am taking, and if you actually have respect for my mental health you will stop pressuring me to have guests and take calls when most of it is just trolling and not even anything creative. Why do you need to be a part of everything I do? Stop trying to bully me into doing it your way. I don’t care if people listen or not, I just want to express myself in a more healthier fashion than having to be reeled into drama on periscope and it is becoming so fucking sickening having to guess who is setting me up, are people confiding in me, knowing my shit is tapped, am I being put through morality tests. Sorry if me expressing my mental health is too fucking boring for you. Maybe some of you shouldn’t be part of my life. I will probably end up failing with this anyways. I fail at everything. I will probably fail at failing, because that’s how much of a god damn failure I am. 

[blaperile]

Homestuck Epilogue(s) - Prologue (page 3)