#i began posting in 2018. that's not that long ago. that's only five years

[em-dashes]

now that suddence is out to betas i'm oscillating between getting more and more self conscious and overthinking about everything that might be wrong with the story vs. knowing that is literally THE POINT of betas and i can't in good conscience let my story slide out into the world with a bunch of faults i didn't catch simply because i was too close to it

[takemebacktocaitlyn]

Happy Halloween

•This was supposed to be a cute little installment for my Daddy Vessel series for Halloween, but I didn’t get to post it because *cardi b voice* coronavirus hit my household and I’ve been down for the count. I still wanted to post this though and just pretend that it’s still Halloween (even though technically it was three days ago but no one pay attention to that, please?). But anyways…uh…here we goooo!•

~Vessel x Fem!Reader (pretty much a given atp).

~Emma’s age in this fic is 5 years old. (Also there is a use of her full name which is Emma-Leigh. Just throwing that out there.)

•Warnings: There is slight sexual content in this story, but nothing goes too too far. This is mainly just a fluff fic.

•Story circa 2018•

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You stood in the kitchen at the sink humming to yourself, washing the dishes from lunch. A smile formed on your face as you looked out the window, seeing the grey cloud covered sky and the beautiful autumn leaves. You laughed a little seeing the remnants of yesterday fun of jumping in the fallen leaves after hours of raking them up to place them in trash bags. You and your boyfriend of a full year, Vessel, had III to thank for that. One jump into the pile of leaves and it did not take long for your five-year-old daughter Emma to follow suit, then followed by everyone else—you, Vessel, IV, II and IV’s girlfriend Viola.

You had just finished loading the dishes into the dish washer when the front door to the flat opened and then closed, you looked over your shoulder to see Vessel making his way into the kitchen. You eyed him slowly from head to toe, taking in the sight of his shaggy hair underneath his black beanie, the way his grey t-shirt rode up over his stomach and showing his abs after he removed his favored Alpha Wold hoodie off before laying in on the back of a kitchen chair, and the way his jeans fit him just right. It was enough to make your mouth water but you refrained.

“Hello there handsome,” You greeted him with a smile. Vessel looked at you with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. He came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hello my darling,” he said lovingly, kissing the top of your head. You two staid like that a few minutes longer before you could feel him shifting a bit from where your head rested on his chest. He was obviously looking around. “Where’s Bug?”

Bug. An affectionate nickname Vessel has been calling your daughter since the two of you got together. Everyone else usually called her Emmie but Vessel liked Bug more. It had something to do with the butterfly dress and headband she was wearing the day you finally introduced the two of them together. And that little meeting sealed everything because it was an instant connection between the two of them, which you were extremely grateful for.

“She’s taking a nap,” You said with a smile as you looked up at him. You reached up on your tiptoes to give his check a quick kiss before pulling away from his embrace. “I’m going to wake her up soon so I can start getting her ready for tonight.”

Vessel smiled at that. “Our first family Halloween outing.”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t swoon a little bit at that comment. This was the first official “family Halloween outing” you three would have, and there were hopefully many more to come until Emma deemed herself too old for trick-or-treating.

“I know I can’t wait.”

You took his hand and the both of you walked into the living room. Vessel sat on the couch and before you could even move past him to sit beside him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to sit down on his lap. A tiny squeak left your mouth at the sudden action, only for giggles to come out next when Vessie began peppering light kisses to your cheeks, your nose and neck. You turned in his lap facing him, both your legs on either side of his hips as you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

The both of you stared at each other lovingly, soft smiles on your faces before you leaned down and captured his lips with yours. You both kissed each other slowly, the kiss deepening as Vessel’s large hands soon moved down from your waist to your hips, squeezing them lightly. As if on instant your hips began to move against him, earning a deep groan from his throat as you continued to kiss.

“How much time do you think we have before Emma wakes up?” Vessel asked you, a bit breathless when he broke away from the kiss. His hands left your hips to cup your ass, helping you grind back and forth on his hardening member inside his jeans.

You opened your mouth to give your reply but was cut off when you heard Emma calling you from upstairs, her little voice still full of sleep.

“I guess that answers our question,” You reply. A laugh fell from your lips as Vessel laid his forehead on your shoulder, groaning some. You knew there was a pout on his face. You raised his head up and held his face in both of your hands, revealing indeed a pout on his lips. You kisses them. “We’ll continue this later.”

Vessel smiled and nodded and allowed you to get off of his lap to go and retrieve Emma, and he placed one of the throw pillows on his lap to hide the tent in his pants. It was going down but not fast enough for his liking. A moment later you came down with Emma in your arms, dressed in her little blue nightgown with Gengar, Haunter and Ghastly on it. II had found that for her one day when he was out and Vessel still was unsure where he found it, the drummer would never open his mouth to reveal it. Apparently he was trying to stay on top of III as the favorite but honestly other than him and you, IV was Emma’s favorite. II and III just refused to accept that fact.

“Hey, my sweet Bug,” Vessel greeted the small girl softly as you brought her over to the couch. You sat down with her on your lap, rubbing her hair and back as Emma rested against you. She was still tired but was trying to wake herself up. Vessel reached over and rubbed his index finger up and down her chubby little cheek. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Mhm,” Emma answered with a little head nod. A yawn escaped from her mouth and she rubbed her eyes with her little fist. She blinked a few times before reaching her arms out for Vessel, making sure to mimic her mother with the grabby hands. “Can you hold me now Vessie?”

Vessie. The little nickname Emma calls your boyfriend. You think it was an easier way for her to actual say Vessel, but who really knows when it comes to children. Either way Vessel wears it like a badge of honor. He refuses to allow anyone other than Emma to call him that.

Vessel gave you a quick look and you raised a brow, a silent question forming as your eyes slowly trailed to the pillow sitting on his lap. Vessel cleared his throat.

“Now right now, Bug,” he spoke softly to the child. A pout began forming on Emma’s face and the large puppy eyes came out, the grabby hands continuing in his direction. He knew she’d keep this up until he reached for her, so he had to come up with something. He smiled. “How about you and mama get ready for tonight and Vessie will hold you while we’re out? That sound good?”

Emma thought for a moment—well, really a few seconds before a large smile spread across her face, replacing the precious pout and puppy eyes as she nodded enthusiastically. Both you and Vessel watched as she squirmed out of your hold and grabbed your hand in hers, instantly attempting to pull you from your seat on the couch.

“Come on, mama, come on!” Emma exclaimed, her voice high pitched as she continued to “pull” you up from the couch. You laughed and humored her, allowing her to believe she pulled you up all by her little mighty self.

🎃🎃🎃

“You didn’t have to put the costume on, Vess, you know that right?”

When the idea of having all three of you in matching Halloween costumes came to your head weeks ago, it seemed like the cutest—and greatest—plan. Emma had recently gotten into older, classic Disney movies and Peter Pan was her favorite at the moment. You had to order the costumes off of Amazon since none of the local shops carried the specific ones you wanted—or need.

You would be Wendy, Emma was Tinkerbell and Vessel…

“Why wouldn’t I want to wear the costume?” Vessel questioned, turning his head to look at you. Emma was in front of the two of you, among a bunch of other children, waiting patiently as the elderly lady filled their bags with candy. Vessel looked down at his attire—a green cap with a red feather sticking out of it, a green tunic, cloth tights, a fake golden sword wrapped around his waist and his doc martens. His shoes were the only none costume related thing on him. Vessel said since you three would be walking, his reliable shoes seemed a bit better than the soft brown things that came with the Peter Pan get up. Vessel opened his arms out wide, head tilting to the side looking at you. “I don’t mind it. And it made you and Bug happy to see me in it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged. “I just thought maybe you would have been happier in your normal clothes,” You replied. You watched as Emma and a few kids squeal in happiness as they got their trick-or-treat bags filled with delicious sweets. You already knew you were going to have to limit how much Emma consumed tonight. And you knew that went double for Vessel as well. You sighed, “Even before we had her, Emma’s dad thought the whole matching costumes thing was stupid. He shot down every attempt I tried every single year. And I had this cutest idea thought out for Emma’s first Halloween, got us matching suits and everything, thought that maybe he’d give it a chance since it was for our daughter but he…he told me I wasted money on something he wasn’t even going to wear or something Emma wasn’t even going to remember. Mentioned how he’d be the laughing stock of his buddies and the guys he worked with if they just so happened to be put with their kids or fucking out in general. He wanted me to take them back but I didn’t. My brother-in-law Rowan got his costume, I wore mine, my sister Claudia aomehow found a matching costume of her own within an hour and Emma had hers. He missed out on his own daughter’s first big holiday because he didn’t want to be embarrassed being seen dressed up with us.”

Vessel smiled softly at you. “And you thought I’d be embarrassed too?” He asked. You said nothing, feeling your cheeks burn with a blush as you refused to look at him. You knew Vessel was nothing like your ex but it was hard to erase the bad memories sometimes, and every now and again they would seep in through the tiny cracks that were beginning to heal, and bleed into this relationship. Vessel was always thankfully so patient.

The next thing you knew, long and strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a firm chest. You turned in Vessel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. Vessel squeezed you tightly, placing a kiss on top of your hair. “I’ll never be embarrassed doing anything with you two,” Vessel said softly. “I missed a lot of firsts in Emma’s little life, but I’m so happy I get to be apart of the next big things to come moving forward. And if that means I have to dress up as Peter Pan, or Steve from Blue’s Clues, or Tickle Me Elmo, or even that Godforsaken big purple dinosaur, I will if it means I get to make my girls happy. I will, Y/N. I love you and I love Emma-Leigh more than either of you will ever know.”

Everything seemed to stopped for what seemed like hours and hours as you looked up at Vessel, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. He only smiled down at you, not phased by your expression at all. Did he…?

“You just said you loved me,” You spoke after a long pause. “I mean, you also said you loved Emma…but that’s the first time you ever told me you loved me, Vess.”

“Well, I thought maybe tonight would be the night I did,” Vessel said with a chuckle. He kisses the crown of your head. “Because I do, Y/N. I love you. My world was black and white before I met you and Emma. You two made everything colorful for me.”

You hugged Vessel tighter, feeling tears pricking your eyes and it took everything you had to force them down. You knew they were happy tears, but dammit you were not going to be seen crying in front of neighbors houses and random people you didn’t know that well. Plus, tonight was about Emma and making sure she had a great Halloween..

“I love you, too, Vessel,” You admitted. You voice soft and a smile on your face. “I love you so much. But I do hate to inform you, you have now given me a great idea for our Halloween costumes next year with bringing Barney into the equation.”

“Y/N,” Vessel warned. His voice was still playful, even if he tried to sound serious. You could hear the smile in his tone. He had made it clear Barney was not his favorite growing up but he tolerated it because you grew up on the thing, and Emma was following close in your footsteps. You couldn’t do anything but laugh.

A moment later an excited Emma came running back to the two of you, her pink jack-o-lantern pail bouncing as she did. It was a wonder that none of her candy she had collected within the few hours you three had been out flew out from the opening, and a part of you was glad it did. You really didn’t feel like picking pieces of candy up out of someone’s yard, yet for Emma you knew that you would in a heartbeat. She reached into her pail and pulled out two full size chocolate bars, a wide smile on her face that causes her eyes to sparkle brightly even in the light of dusk.

“Look look look look!” Emma bounced on her tiptoes excitedly. “I got full bars!”

“Wow, Bug, that’s awesome!” Vessel beamed down at her. He crouched down to be eye level with her. “You know where else you’re probably gonna get a full size bar? Maybe even three bars?”

Emma tilted her head, her smiling fading in her curious confusion. “Where Vessie?”

“Uncle Ivy and Auntie Vi’s place,” Vessel answered. He watched as the little girl’s smile grew wide once more and the excitement came back. Emma placed her candy bars back into her pail and grabbed Vessel’s hand after he had risen back to his full height. Vessel chuckled down at her. “I guess you’re ready to go then, huh?”

“Yes yes yes yes!” Emma beamed excitedly. “I’m ready to get some more yummy candy and ready to let Uncle Ivy and Aunt Vi see my costume!”

You giggled at your daughter’s enthusiasm in seeing IV and Viola. You took Emma’s candy pail in one hand and grabbed her other little hand with your free one, allowing you and Vessel both to hold her hand as you three walked down the street. Occasionally you and Vessel would swing Emma back and forth between the two of you, reciting the phrase “faith, trust and pixie dust” as you did so. Emma used the pixie dust part to raise her little legs up, letting you and Vessel swing her easily. Her little giggles was the music to both yours and your boyfriend’s ears.

“You know there’s a possibility III is going to be there, too, right?” You asked Vessel a bit later as you three got closer towards IV and Viola’s flat.

Like IV, III was a long time friend of Vessel’s and another member to their band Sleep Token. By the time you and Vessel had gotten together, they had released two albums at that point. They were working on releasing another one now, after they made sure everything was perfect after what had been a two year break since their Two album.

It was four of them; Vessel the lead vocalist but also provides helps with other musical instruments, II the drummer, III the bassist and IV the guitarist who also lends a hand on backup vocals (mainly screams) when he is needed. They were four guys making a name for themselves but to you, they were just…the guys. One your dear, darling boyfriend and the other three the craziest nut jobs you’ve been so lucky to call your friends for the past year, and who you were grateful they accepted you and Emma into their lives as fast as they did.

“And if he decides to laugh at me and this costume…” Vessel began but trailed off, looking down at Emma between the two of you. You could see he was mauling over the exact words he should use next, not really wanting Emma to hear him say something and then think it was okay to say it as also. He cleared his throat some before looking back at you, his voice low and he was trying to give off a serious look. “Well, let’s just say this sword is going to be shoved so far up somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. The guys loved to mess with one another, III more than most. He was a lovable jokester but sometimes he did manage to get up under the others skin just right and it usually lead to having full grown me running around chasing one another, threatening to beat one another to a pulp. Usually it never actually got to that point but there were times it did. Apparently rough housing was a big part on their friendship, which was always an odd and stark comparison to how professional and put together they all four could be. Yet, with knowing all of that, you knew Vessel meant what he said about that sword on his side being shoved somewhere if III was there at IV’s and decided to open his big mouth.

🎃🎃🎃

True to his word, Vessel chased III around the front yard of IV and Viola’s flat the minute words of jest left the bassist’s mouth. Vessel wasn’t able to actually shove the sword where the sun didn’t shine, mainly because II and IV broke them apart before the playful rough housing could escalate. Not that you believe Vessel would go that far with Emma present but nothing was certain when it came to these four knuckleheads.

IV and Viola had full size candy bars for Emma, in fact they had four full size candy bars waiting and stashed away just for their favorite fairy. Vessel couldn’t help but throw in a comment about how IV was Emma’s favorite to III, which caused the bassist to start chasing your boyfriend around the front yard again, complete role reversal than earlier. II shook his head and took his seat once again on the front step of the flat, reaching into a bag beside him, the drummer pulled out a stuffed brown teddy bear.

“I figured she’d have an assload of sweets already, so I figured I’d do something a little different.” II held the bear out to Emma. He held his gaze with the child as he spoke to you again. “I figured you wouldn’t mind it as much.”

Emma gasp lightly and placed her pail down before taking the offered bear, and bringing it to her chest for a hug. She swayed side to side before looking at II and going to him before the drummer could blink, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as she leaped into his arms. The bear made a light thump on his back as Emma held it tightly in her grip. II instinctively wrapped his arms around her tiny body, holding her to him.

It had taken a bit for Emma to get more affectionate towards IV, III and II. II being the one she somehow took the longest to get used to oddly enough. But the minute she was comfortable around her new uncles, the gloves were off and the three men got to know the love and the personality of little Emma. They somewhat now understood why you say the world is Emma’s and everyone else is just living in it. They loved your daughter and in turn Emma loved them, and loved her Auntie Viola as well.

“Thank you, Uncle II!” Emma beamed loudly, her little arms still around the drummer’s neck. “I love him!”

“I’m glad you love him, Emmie,” II said with a smile. He hugged Emma one more time before letting her go and watched her run off back to you. He watched as the little girl excitedly held the bear up to house, bouncing on her tip toes. He chuckled, “I guess I did good.”

“You sure did, II,” You replied back to him. A smile on your face as Emma soon began speaking to her new bear, talking about all the fun they were going to have together and her trying to figure out what his name was going to be. It was pretty cute. “She’s going to take such good care of it.”

“Speaking of things that need to be taken care of,” Viola spoke next, her thick Scottish accent causing everyone—except Emma and her new bear, Mister Bear—to look at her. Viola sat in IV’s lap in the lawn chair they had brought out to hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, and she pointed a thumb into the direction of where a Peter Pan wearing Vessel and a Deadpool wearing III were still running around the front yard. She raised a pierced eyebrow. “Are we going to stop them anytime soon or are we going to let them keep going? Because I don’t think the remaining treaters are going to be enjoying dodging two fully grown men in Halloween costumes in such a small yard.”

“I got them!” Emma exclaimed before you could tell her to hold on, she took off running after her Vessie and her Uncle III, giggling as she joined in on what she thought was a game. The bear still in her hand.

“Well I suppose all that running will do the trick,” Viola said with a sigh, a laugh soon escaping as she shook her head. “Gonna go from fully energized to chugging along like The Little Engine That Could.”

You laughed and took a seat beside II on the front steps. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a sideways hug as you all watched two grown men in costume chasing after each other, a small little girl in a lime green fairy costume running right behind them.

“Do you mean the two large knuckle heads or Emma?” You asked looking at Viola.

“I say the two dumbasses,” II remarked with a smirk. “No way they’re going to be able to keep this up with their old asses and all. Might break a hip or some shit.”

“Aren’t you guys the same age?” Viola questioned looking over her shoulder at the drummer. She furrowed her pierced brows together. “Aren’t you technically calling yourself old, II?”

II shrugged. “We’re all a few months apart from each other.” He pointed towards Vessel and III, a giggling Emma still following closely behind them. “Those two fuckwits are older. So, they’re more likely to break a hip or just all together go down first before Emma-Leigh does.”

“I second that,” IV spoke up next, taking a hit off of his vape before blowing the scented smoke out into the air. He turned his eyes on you, a playful smile on his face. “But I’m sure Emmie girl won’t be too far behind them.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

And see you four did.

After another few minutes of them chasing each other, III lost his footing and fell to the ground. Vessel took the chance and jumped on top of his fallen friend, Emma followed right after. Although she had more innocent intent for III than Vessel did.

Soon, you and your little family were leaving to head back home, seeing Halloween night coming to an end. You held one of Vessel’s hands in yours, Emma’s candy pail in your other and with his free arm Vessel was holding a sleeping Emma on his side. Her tiny arms was wrapped around his neck, her head laying on his shoulder and she breathed in and out softly. Her teddy bear rested carefully in the pail you held in your hand.

“I say she had a great Halloween,” Vessel said before placing a kiss on the crown of Emma’s head. You nodded your head.

“I’d say she did.”

Once you had made it back home, you watched from the doorway of Emma’s room as Vessel laid her down in her bed. You both agreed since she was so tired that she could sleep in her costume tonight, having removed the fairy wings from her back, and you’d give her a shower in the morning.

Vessel carefully got up from where he laid a few extra minutes with Emma, smoothing her hair down and just letting her know his presence was there. It was something he had seen you do a hundred times by now and as he was doing it, he got it. The feeling of being that tiny comfort for her and for you yourself to have that tiny little moment with them, where you got to study every little thing about them. And honestly, now he understands why his mother hated everything about him growing up, her one and only boy. He was going through that now, watching the little girl that stole his heart growing up before his eyes.

It had only been a year he and you had been together, yet in that year he sees where Emma was slowly changing. She was a few inches taller, her hair had gotten a little bit longer and was slowly turning a darker shade, her feet were growing because she had went up a shoe size and she did the same with her clothes. Emma was also starting to want to be more independent. Brushing her own hair (even though you both still had to help), brushing her own teeth (both of you allowed her while you just stood off to the side) and then she also wanted to dress herself (some of the outfits she came up with were adorable in a way, but blue jeans did not go with her yellow dress and the sandals she insisted on wearing from time to time—so that would have to wait).

Emma was growing up before his eyes. A part of him hated she had to grow up, but the other half was excited he was going to get to be a part of it. Vessel would never begin to understand how her biological father could just choose to not be involved with a child like Emma, or just deny her existence until it was convenient for him. If the day came where you and him got to the discussion of your own children, Vessel would make it clear he was there for everything. He wouldn’t jump ship, take on the responsibility that was also his and not abandon you or his children.

Vessel pulled the blankets over Emma’s sleeping form, placing her new teddy bear right beside her before making his way back to you. You and Vessel both walked out of Emma’s room, Vessel gently closing the door of her bedroom behind him, not all the way so it would be open just a crack. You and him made your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, both ready to change and lay on your comfortable mattress. And that was what you did.

Vessel had changed out of his Peter Pan suit and wore only a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and since he decided to wear no shirt you were able to admire his toned and lean body. You trailed your eyes down his chest to his faint lining of the abs he had been working hard on, and thanks to the low hanging sweats you were gifted the sight of the V of his hips. You were sitting on the bed, hanging already changed out of your Wendy costume into one of Vessel’s many black t-shirts, which was long on your shorter frame and wore nothing underneath but a pair of black panties, and you could feel Vessel’s eyes scanning over your body like yours were him.

The minute your boyfriend came to lay down in the bed, you gave him time to get settled on his back before you turned and threw a leg over his waist, straddling him. Your hands found his chest as his grabbed onto the fat of your plush hips. You stared down at him and he stared up at you, his eyes darkening with the same desire as earlier.

“I meant what I said earlier,” You said to your boyfriend, running your nails up and down his chest. You could see the goosebumps that littered his flesh from that action.

“And what was that, love?” Vessel asked, his deep voice all but sounding as a purr as he looked up at you from underneath you. He could feel himself begin to grow inside his sweat pants, and he knew you could as well from where you began moving your hips back and forth, grinding down on him.

“That we were going to finish what we started earlier on the couch,” You said as you leaned down, still moving your hips and grinding your cloth center against Vessel’s growing erection. Vessel tilted his head back as a deep groan left him, giving you access to his neck. You planted kisses on the skin, switching between sweet kisses, light nibbles and sucking the skin of his neck wherever you sunk your teeth down into. You raised your mouth to his ear and you knew he could feel your breath against the shell of it. “Consider this your Halloween treat, baby.”

You have out a squeak when the next thing you knew Vessel flipped the both of you, pinning you underneath him. Now it was your turn to look up at him, feeling the weight of his darken and lustful stare.

A sexy smirk spread across Vessel’s face. And he leaned down close enough to your face, having his lips hovering mere inches above yours. And in a husky tone that always made your knees weak, he said, “well happy fucking Halloween to me then.”

And at that, he crashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. And the two of you entered a night of passion and bliss.

———————————————————————————

I wasn’t planning on making this as long as I did but here it is. Another adventure of Daddy Vessel, little Emma and you, the oh so lovely reader.

Well, everyone take care now. Bye bye!

🖤🖤🖤

[bluejayblueskies]

the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter One: white daisies Words: 2.9k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies

Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six| Chapter Seven

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of knife violence, mild blood)

There are white daisies on the kitchen table.

They’re what Jon saw first when he opened his eyes, awake and gasping for air, sprawled on his back on the floor and staring up at a brown ceiling and a brown kitchen chair and the bottom of a brown table and, amidst it all, a splash of white that caught his eye. He stared at the flowers, a memory tickling at the back of his mind—Martin cutting the flowers from a patch just outside the cottage, tucking them into a vase on the center of the table, Jon running a finger along the waxy petals and whispering, Daisies for Daisy—and then, with a rush, the rest of the memories came flooding back and he sat up so quickly his head spun, his hand going almost instinctively to his chest where the knife was—

But there wasn’t a knife. He was in the safehouse and there were fresh-cut daisies in a vase on the table and there was no knife. There was, however, when he pulled his jumper up to look, a scar—thick and raised, like it had been there for years.

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, the door flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

There are still white daisies on the kitchen table less than two days later, when Jon has fallen apart and picked himself back up again and fallen apart and picked himself back up again, more times than he cares to count. He sits in the hard wooden chair, legs crossed and elbows resting atop the varnished wood, and stares at the flowers, still as vibrant as the day they were picked nearly… six months ago? He wishes he knew how long it’s been, but he can’t. He can’t Know, and the Eye is gone, and he can’t speak, and his tears are soundless as he buries his face in Martin’s chest and grapples with the fact that for the first time in years, he’s never felt quite so human.

Martin thinks they’ve gone back in time. Jon thinks that time has caught up to them. Like the world, stitched back together and made anew, has simply picked up where it left off, unaware of how deeply scarred its inhabitants have become. Though Jon really doesn’t think it matters much at all.

It’s not the first argument they have. And it certainly will not be the last.

For now, though, Jon stares at the daisies, one hand tap tap tapping the cheap ballpoint pen on the moleskine notebook Martin had given him and the other wandering down to his left calf, where bite marks as wide as dominoes sit in even rows across his skin, scarred up before they’d even reached the next domain.

He rubs a thumb over one of the raised scars—the second set that had been left on his body by the same hands, both born from violence yet so distinct and different in Jon’s mind—and thinks, with a twinge of something deeply longing, I miss Daisy.

He’d missed her in intervals after he’d collected the bite mark scars on his calf. There had been so much to think about, so much to focus on, but in the quieter moments, he would think about the fact that she was gone—really, truly gone, in a way he couldn’t explain away like he could their first time in the safehouse—and feel the loss as acutely as a knife in his side. (Though now that he has experience with that specific brand of pain, he knows that the feelings aren’t quite the same. A knife is sharp and cutting, radiating pain. That ache was deeper, and it settled next to his bones, preparing to make itself at home within him forever.) Now, there is sunlight streaming in through the lattice windows and Jon closes his eyes when he sleeps and fear is as dull as a butter knife, and there is no limit to the moments of quiet. He looks at the white daisies, and he aches.

“Jon?” Martin says quietly, and Jon startles, still unused to not Knowing when somebody is near to him before they announce themselves. “Is… is everything all right?”

Jon nods reflexively, then bites his lip and slowly shakes his head. He looks down at the table for a moment before flipping open the moleskine, uncapping the pen, and scratching words neatly on the next available line despite the way his hand shakes ever so slightly as he writes. I miss Daisy.

He holds up the notebook, and Martin steps closer until he can make out the cramped words on the page. His forehead furrows like he hadn’t been expecting it, but after a moment, he says softly, “Me too.”

Jon gives him a flat, disbelieving look, and Martin sighs. “Okay, maybe I don’t. At least, not- not like you do. But I… I know you cared about her, Jon. I know she was there for you when I- I wasn’t, and I… I wanted to meet the version of Daisy that you pulled out of that coffin. Really meet her, I mean, without all of the loneliness and fog and- and end-of-the-world drama.” A corner of Martin’s mouth turns up into a sort of unhappy smile. “I guess I miss what could have been, then.” Quieter: “I’m sorry. I know that she… she meant a lot to you.”

Jon nods once, folding his hands together on his lap and worrying them together. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a frustrated sigh and reaches back for the notebook. Hastily, he scrawls, I think she would have liked you. Then: I wish you could have met her too. Then, hesitantly: I told her about you. I talked about you a lot. She never understood why I left you alone with Lukas, but she respected my decision to do so.

He holds it up, and Martin’s eyes scan the page quickly. Jon can see the moment Martin reads the last line, the way his jaw tenses and his throat bobs as he swallows. “Only nice things, I hope,” he says after a moment with a bit of forced cheeriness.

Jon exhales loudly through his nose—a breathy laugh, the only kind he can manage anymore—and shrugs.

Martin’s lips twitch into a smile, but it quickly folds under the pressure of the troubled look upon the rest of his face. “I’m glad that you had her,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry you lost her.”

She had me as well, Jon scratches, holding it up for Martin to see. Then, his train of thought continues and he holds up a finger, pulling the moleskine back down to the table and inking a few more lines onto the page. It was hard to be human, but we helped each other. I wish I could have helped her during the apocalypse, and I wish I could help her now. It hurts to know that she could have had this, truly separated from the Hunt, but that she wasn’t given the chance.

He holds it up, trying to keep his hands steady as he gives Martin time to read through it. Then, Martin takes the moleskine from him and sets it carefully on the table before folding Jon’s hand in his and squeezing gently. He rubs his thumbs across the back of Jon’s knuckles as he says, “I know, love. I know.” He lifts Jon’s hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it. His lips brush against the back of Jon’s hand as he says, “Would you… would you like to do something for her? A memorial, or- or something to remember her with? I know there wasn’t much of a chance to do so back when—back before, and it… it might help.”

Jon looks down at his lap, considering. He knows that Daisy is gone; he doesn’t know if this would make the ache in his chest lessen or grow tighter, and to do nothing and stay the same feels like the safer of the two options. Then, he catches a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye—the daisies, sitting on the table, vibrant and alive and glowing slightly in the bright sunlight—and, eyes still locked on those waxy petals, he nods.

“Okay,” Martin says quietly. “All right.”

.

.

.

They stand atop one of the grassy hills close to the cottage, a thick scarf wrapped several times around Jon’s neck to keep away the cold and his mittened hands holding the bouquet of cut daisies, their petals fluttering and stems bowing in the wind. The moleskine is tucked away in his coat, but he hasn’t used it since they arrived out here. Martin’s arm is tucked around Jon, hand resting on his opposite hip as he pulls Jon close to his side, and they’re both silent as they stare out over the grassy knolls, peppered with orange and white cows and brown pickets with wire strung between them.

Jon takes a daisy from the bouquet, holding it carefully in his hand lest it blow away too early, and watches it wave back and forth in the wind, flimsier without the support of the rest of the flowers. He remembers calling Daisy’s name with dirt clustering at the corners of his mouth and filling his nostrils, feeling terror grip him as the soil around him began to shift and move, rivulets of water trickling into his eyes and stinging as he tried to blink them away. He recalls the relief, all-consuming and so potent he thought he would choke on it (if he hadn’t already been choking on dirt, so much dirt, soil and clay and sand and gravel all mixed as one), when she had called his name in return. He takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and releases the flower, watching it catch in the wind and be carried away, down the hill and out of sight.

He pulls another flower out of the bouquet and thinks of the way Daisy’s hand felt in his when he finally made contact, fingers calloused and rough and fingernails ragged and caked with dirt. Her grip was so weak, muscles unused to the trial of being made to grasp and cradle and hold, but she held on as the dirt pressed down on them and they struggled to breathe and, still, with their lungs compressed and weary, they used them to form words. He thinks about not alone, though, not alone, and lets the flower go, watching it tumble away on the breeze.

He pulls another flower and thinks of when Daisy said that she’d planned to kill him, and how he wasn’t even able to muster up the energy to care.

The petals on the next flower are wet. For a moment, Jon thinks that it’s started raining and he just hadn’t noticed. Then, he feels Martin’s hand brush against his cheek, wiping away the next few tears with his thumb, and his next breath rattles in his chest.

He remembers being with Daisy in his office, him sitting in the chair behind his desk and her standing in the corner, trying to remember what it felt like to be vertical. He remembers sitting across from her at a sticky pub table, his hands wrapped around an equally as sticky mug of beer as she pulled a surprising amount of laughter out of his mouth. (He suspected that the warmth running through him by the end of the night was only partially due to the flush of alcohol in his system.) He remembers sitting on a now-ratty cot in document storage, one earbud in his ear and the other in Daisy’s as they leaned against the wall, thighs pressed lightly together and hands clasped in a way that felt easy, his nose wrinkling as The Archers played tinnily through the earbuds. He remembers being slumped against the brick wall behind the Institute, cigarette held between two shaking fingers as he tried to pretend like the nicotine would satisfy the burning hunger growing within him, and the shoulder that had pressed firmly against his as Daisy had slid down to sit next to him, a similar sort of hunger clawing relentlessly within her as well. He remembers standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom in the Archives, staring at his own eyes and wondering if they looked just a bit greener today, just a bit less human, and finally walking back out to see Daisy leaning on the wall next to the door, her voice leaving no room for argument as she said that she’d bought a bottle of whiskey and they were going to share it between them. He remembers lying on one of the cots and staring at the darkened ceiling, hearing her breathing deep and even beside him, one thin arm slung over his chest, and thinking about how much stronger than him she was, that she would rather die than be who she was before. (She never thought he was a monster. He hadn’t quite believed it, but he had been grateful for it all the same.) And he remembers what it felt like, slipping into the tunnels beneath the Institute and leaving Daisy and Basira behind to deal with the chaos that lay above ground, unable to shake the horrible, sickening feeling that it was the last time he would ever see Daisy.

Their last night together had been spent listening to the historical podcast that Jon had managed to convince Daisy to try. He thinks she only put up with it as long as she did because she spent much less time listening to the hosts and much more time listening to him talk over them, supplementing their research with his own and going off on long, rambling tangents that more often than not ended up a few subjects away from history. She never minded when he rambled, and he never felt that choking, itching feeling at the back of his throat that caused the words to die halfway through a sentence that he so often got when he felt that he was boring those around him.

They hadn’t even gotten to finish the episode they were on.

Jon remembers it all, and he lets the flowers go one by one, watching them tumble away down the hill until his hands are empty, hanging uselessly in the air for a moment before he drops them limply to his sides. He knows he’s crying in earnest by now, and he hates it. It’s a terribly vulnerable feeling, to be mourning out in the open, and he hates it. His breath hitches in his throat—he would choke his words if he could form them—and he hates it.

He hates it, but he doesn’t stop Martin when he wraps his other arm around Jon and pulls him gently into his chest, whispering soft platitudes into Jon’s hair as Jon buries his face in Martin’s scarf to hide his tears. Martin’s hands rub circles across Jon’s back and his lips press against the crown of Jon’s head and he whispers, “It’s all right, love. It’s all right,” and Jon allows himself one abrupt, hiccuping sob before he pushes all remaining sounds deep within him where they cannot escape.

And down below, near the base of the hill, the daisies lie scattered amongst the grass and the bushes and the weeds, like the first flakes of winter snow.

.

.

.

There are daisies on the kitchen table again. These ones are yellow, collected from the garden in the back before the frost has a chance to set in and wither them. Sunlight makes dappled patterns across them as Jon sits at the table and drinks tea for the third morning since he found himself able to do so once again, made with no milk and two sugars just as he likes. He can hear the gentle rumble of water from the bathroom, his own hair already shower-damp and pulled back into a loose braid. The jumper is Martin’s, too large and draped over his hands where they wrap around his mug, and the kitchen smells of tea and daisies and home. If Jon closes his eyes and shuts off his mind and focuses only on the seep of heat into his palms and the brush of fabric against his arms, he can almost pretend like everything between before and now had been a dream.

Almost.

Jon takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and takes a long sip of his tea. He’s halfway back to setting the mug on the kitchen table when there’s a creak, a rattle, and a burst of cold air as the front door of the cottage swings open.

The mug slips out of Jon’s hands and knocks sideways on the table, spilling tea across the varnished surface and rolling dangerously close to the edge before its handle strikes the table and brings it to a halt. He distantly registers that his jumper sleeves are stained with tea and that the puddle is seeping towards him, preparing to drip off the edge, but the thought is buried beneath an icy wave of shock as he stares, wide-eyed, at the open doorway. At the figure standing within it.

Daisy stares back, eyes wide with surprise, face streaked with mud and blood, one hand still on the door handle, and says, “Jon?”

[shijiujun]

Time for some BL/Danmei novel recs! 

You guys have probably (maybe) seen my novels list here - [X] - but it’s more for my own tracking than anything else, so here’s a brief list (I’ll probably do full ones of the ones I really love in another post, probably on Minmo).

The ones elaborated on below with the asterisks are the novels I’ve actually finished reading.

*since everyone more or less knows MXTX’s works - TGCF, MDZS and SVSSS, I’ll skip those!

1. SCI 迷案集 | SCI Mystery Series by 耳雅*

Summary: Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao are childhood friends and rivals that end up working together under the newly established SCI unit as co-leads, with Bai Yutang providing the brawn as Captain and Zhan Zhao the brains as Vice Captain and the team’s resident genius psychologist. They solve cases together and slowly unravel a wider conspiracy that involves their parents’ generation and beyond. At the same time they also realize that they’re meant for each other!

Other CPs: Bai Jintang (Bai Yutang’s older brother) & the medical examiner, Gongsun Ce, Bai Chi (Bai Yutang’s younger cousin) & magician Zhao Zhen, and at least three other gay pairings, one of which is considered another main couple of sorts from Vol. 2 onwards

Status: Incomplete (Began in 2010, author is still going on strong with one chapter every one or two months, we’re halfway through Vol. 5 right now and it’s been 10 years ;-; Love that the author is going on strong!! Everyone on JJWXC are like “please author it’s okay if you go slow as long as you keep going we’re here for you” and jfc I understand the fear of this not completing, also when will Vol. 5 be completed and printed?!! I need to complete the collection)

Translations: Unfortunately, only the first volume has been translated well so far on novel updates. The one on Wattpad seems to have caught up, but I would not recommend that one.

Drama/Live-Action: Season 1 was filmed and released in 2018 under the same name with slightly changed names for the characters. Season 2 was supposed to start filming this month but... oh well. First season basically covered Vol. 1 novel from start to end.

*I love this one only because it was my very first danmei and so it’ll forever have a special place in my heart, and also because it’s still ongoing so ya know, I relive how much I love this every month

2. 成化十四年 | Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year (The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty) by 梦溪石*

Summary: Tang Fan, a prefectural judge, and Sui Zhou, a high ranking officer in the Embroidered Uniform Guards, meet while trying to solve a murder case. Both of them end up partnering very well together, Sui Zhou ends up inviting Tang Fan to live with him, and the rest is history. Through their days living together and solving cases + a larger conspiracy involving the royal palace, they fall in love. Adding to this mix is also Wang Zhi, a powerful, young eunuch who befriends the pair, and the three of them basically help the crown prince to overcome challenges and his enemies to become the next Emperor

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Ongoing on several websites. I’m only translating relationship highlights, but here’s an introduction post I did for it, if you guys would like somewhere to start without getting too invested - [X]

Drama/Live-Action: The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty was released earlier this year, directed by Jackie Chan and starring Darren Chen and Paul Fu, but cases are a little different and there are new characters in the show that weren’t from the novel etc.

3. 杀破狼 | Shapolang by Priest*

Summary: Set in a steampunk universe where flying boats named ‘kites’ and flying armour exist. Young teenager Chang Geng lives with his mother and stepfather - the former abuses him and the latter neglects him, and the only person that he cares about (and cares about him) is Shen Shiliu, his (very young) godfather. He realizes his identity as a royal prince when the Man tribe invades his city and Shen Shiliu, whose real name is Gu Yun, turns out to be an army general whose duty was to protect Chang Geng in secret (among other things). 

Chang Geng has been critically poisoned by his mother (who’s not actually his birth mother, if I recall she’s an aunt) which leads to him getting terrible dreams frequently with the end result of him being driven into insanity, while Gu Yun is half blind, half deaf due to poisoning + injury when he was much younger, and he can only regain his hearing and sight fully when he takes a medicine that is slowly losing its effectiveness with every dosage he has.

The both of them navigate learning about each other again, falling in love a few years later when Chang Geng is all grown up and also unravel conspiracies and fight bad guys (both external threats and internal as in the current Emperor and other parties) XD

*Note: The age old debate is that Gu Yun ‘preyed’ on and also ‘groomed’ Chang Geng, but I disagree and stand by the fact that Gu Yun was 90% of the time not around while Chang Geng grew from a teenager to a young adult as he was fighting wars elsewhere, while Chang Geng refused to stay at the Gu manor and insisted on running around, travelling on his own and seeing the world for a few years before they met again. And it was Chang Geng who’d always loved Gu Yun and devoted himself to caring about him, making advances on him etc. when he became an adult

Other CPs: Shen Yi (Gu Yun’s second-in-command) & Chen Qingxu (a renowned physician who ends up healing both Chang Geng and Gu Yun of their ailments) 

Status: Complete!

Translations: Fully translated the last I heard, it’s up there in the list of holy grail BL/danmei novels, so I’m sure it’s done hahaha.

Drama/Live-Action: Filming in progress!

*This is up there in the hall of fame for danmei novels for more than just the amazing content and writing - It’s also famous for being one of the most complex novels ever. I don’t know how the translations team did it because DAMN it was complex and I read all my novels in Chinese without much issues but I was honestly STRUGGLING WITH this one and I went through some existential crisis while reading because I was like ‘did I ever learn Chinese, am I even Chinese’ XD

4. ���读 | Silent Reading by Priest*

Summary: Luo Wenzhou, a police captain, and his team including best friend and partner Tao Ran, face a few challenging cases that end up being small parts of a larger conspiracy, and end up having to consult with Fei Du, a flamboyant, charming and flirty, young and rich CEO, who Luo Wenzhou describes as someone who is an expert at ‘crimes’. Not deduction, not solving crimes, but someone who is familiar with how the murderer or culprits would commit crimes. Both Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran know Fei Du well, because they first met when Fei Du was in high school, when he called the police because his mother had hanged herself in the house, and since then Tao Ran and Luo Wenzhou look out for him, spending holidays with him, giving him presents here and there. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du overcome their misunderstandings of each other and fall in love while solving all the cases and the larger conspiracy behind it.

Other CPs: Tao Ran and someone he knew first from his school days or was a neighbour when he was younger, I can’t remember, but they meet again at a blind date and end up living in the same building on different floors XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Complete!! There’s a huge post floating around on Tumblr with all the links (I can’t find it right now) and on Twitter you can also find the collated, epub versions etc.

Drama/Live-Action: Rights for a live-action was signed, no casting confirmation or set dates yet

5. 犯罪心理 | Criminal Psychology by 长洱*

Summary: Police captain Xing Conglian drags psychologist Lin Chen out of seclusion/hiding to solve a case that is indirectly tied to him. Lin Chen was involved in a case a few years ago that led to four deaths - these four victims were the sons/daughters of four of the five huge old-money (super rich) families in the country and these family members sought to make Lin Chen’s life very difficult for him afterwards by making him lose all the jobs he can find, by surveilling his every move and ensuring that he’s not happy etc. Because of that, he backed out of the police force as well and quietly lived as a school dorm administrator, which is where Xing Conglian finds him a few years later. Lin Chen fakes his death after the first case (not deliberately but kind of a by-the-way thing), but as fate would have it, he ends up meeting Xing Conglian on another case, and he decides that he’ll move in with him and also involve himself again, consequences be damned, and they fall in love!

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet.

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of.

6. 死亡万花筒 | Kaleidoscope of Death by 西子绪* (MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE)

Summary: Supernatural setting where people who are about to die get a second chance to live. These individuals are either in the midst of a dangerous situation (for e.g. a shootout or a deadly mugging incident) or are about to get into accidents (for e.g. an entire bus going off a bridge or a chandelier dropping from above and crushing the person underneath) or are ill (recently diagnosed with cancer or are terminally ill with a condition for e.g.) - The list is endless, and in the situation between life and death, 12 doors will appear before them. 

It is said that once these individuals finish all 12 doors, they will truly get a second chance at life and survive whatever cause of death they were imminently facing. 

Each door represents a creepy, supernatural mystery, and Lin Qiushi finds himself in a strange place after opening a door when he was trying to enter his apartment one day. He meets Ruan Baijie, a beautiful, tall woman who he happens to meet, and they realize that in this strange world, he and other individuals who came through the door have to complete a given task, find a key and an exit door, and make it out alive. The others in the team (some of which have already gone through several doors) explain to Lin Qiushi, who is a first-timer, what the doors are about. 

The catch is, if they die inside the door, in the real world, they’ll die immediately, by accident, throwing themselves off a building, or just throwing up blood until they die (just to name a few)

On the first night, however, three people are slaughtered and eaten by a long-haired ghost/creature. The good news is, Ruan Baijie isn’t all that she seems to be (for one, she’s not exactly a woman) and she takes a liking to Lin Qiushi immediately.

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet!

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of, but honestly, this novel would be fricking EPIC as a live-action, and really creepy, but this is my all-time favourite novel, I kid you not!!!!

*I’m definitely doing a longer and more detailed to-read for KOD on my translation account, gosh you guys have no idea how much I love this.

7. 当年万里觅封侯 | Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by 漫漫何其多

Summary: Yu She and Gu Wan were close friends for a short period of time when they were younger, but unfortunately their identities and positions meant that they were opponents. Yu She’s family was for the Second Prince and Gu Wan was taken in by the Sixth Prince’s family, but in the end it was the Second Prince who ended up getting to the throne, while the Sixth Prince was accused of treason and died somewhere far away at war after being captured. Gu Wan’s only wish was to keep the Fifth Prince’s children - Xuan Rui and a pair of twins, Xuan Yu and Xuan Congxin safe, and so he moves them to another province and asks the Emperor (the Second Prince) to demote Xuan Rui’s status to prove that they are no threat to the Emperor, if only to stay alive for another day.

However, their days of hardship have only just begun, and Gu Wan decides to namedrop Yu She, whose family is so powerful now, and claims that Yu She loves him and that he was wooing Gu Wan back in the days they knew each other so that officials and others would treat the children under his care better. A few years pass and Yu She doesn’t expose Gu Wan. Gu Wan thinks they can go on like this forever, until the Emperor asks Xuan Rui and the twins to head back to the palace for a visit.

Gu Wan meets Yu She again, but the boy he knew, who was gentle, a stickler for rules and a proper, well-mannered person, has changed almost completely. Cue palace conspiracies again, brothers fighting for the throne, scheming consorts etc. XD 

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet but I’m not super sure on this

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of!

*They came out with a new reprint edition three days ago and it’s gorgeous! And comes with amazing freebies, and I am a sucker and read it on the day of the printed novel release because I saw the art and loved it, wanted to see if the story was any good, and damn after chapter 2 I WAS GONE and then I checked out two copies from different stores for the two different sets of freebies 

--

A list of those I haven’t read but I see are highly raved about:

1. 二哈和他的白猫师尊 | The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Meatbun

- I’ve already been spoiled and I know what goes on mostly, and there are a lot of warnings for a reason, but I’m still a fan, and let’s not get into the debate on the content, I know I have to read this but the angst level is apparently ridiculous, so I need like some mental preparation before I sit down for it.

2. 千秋 | A Thousand Autumns by 梦溪石

3. 烈火浇愁 | Lie Huo Jiao Chou by Priest

4. 将进酒 | Qiang Jing Jiu by 唐酒卿

- A really good group of translators picked this up initially on Twitter, but then assholes were complaining that they were being too slow and insisting that machine translation (MTL) did an equally good and faster job, so the OG dropped it, and then another nice team picked it up, but MTL team is still being an asshole XD I’ve heard really good things about this one, it’s apparently quite complex as well, I’d liken it to Shapolang level? But it might be even more complex (with a lot of politics and stuff), so much so that apparently the printed novel comes with a relationship/character chart so readers are at any point in time clear on the characters which is like amazing XD

[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[fishmongeringstudies]

the year i turned twenty i stopped waiting for someone to save my life and started eating more vegetables

in the winter of 2018 i got a root canal done on the molar in the upper left-hand corner of my mouth. it had been on the verge of death for a while now; two years prior to that a visiting government-sponsored school dentist had taken a look at it, frowned, and then spent the next two hours wheedling all the rot out of that tiny black hole with a drill. unfortunately the solution he imposed was both extremely painful and temporary, and so two years after the initial incident i found myself once again at the dentist's (this time at a clinic; school dentists don't like to deal with the extra-gritty stuff and are not paid enough to do so). they stuck a needle in my gum, numbed three-quarters of my mouth, then drilled a hole through the center of my tooth and ripped the withering shred of nerve-tissue right out of it.

my dentist helpfully explained all of the above to me during our consultation session in the same office in which he would rip the top half of my tooth off a week later. he was a balding, smiling man whose speech did not, unlike many medical professionals i had met over the years, have an edge of condescension to it. i liked him. i would have liked him more were he not planning to essentially castrated my tooth.

several weeks later i went to another dentist who specialized in helping people in post-root canal limbo, and she stuck a shiny metal crown on what was left of my molar. we then scheduled a series of check-ups to ensure that the crown had not flown off its liege while i attacked an ice cube or something similarly bad for my teeth and mental health, which stretched on for so long that she became, more or less, my primary dental care physician. at first the check-ups were a month apart. then two. time passed. her hair grew longer and our conversations less awkward; she was beautiful and snarky and looked like she would shoot god without hesitation if he stepped into range of her gun. she wore her hair short, red tinged with gold, in a pixie-cut that fell over half of one eye. for a while i thought i was in love with her.

'do you floss?' she asked me on my second check-up.

'no,' i said.

'well.' she broke off a length of dental floss and began to wind it around her fingers. it looked like a death threat and she looked ready to kill, though her eyes were smiling. 'you should.'

for the first year after having an utterly destroyed tooth brought back from the brink of death via a grisly temporary solution that would, at best, buy me one or two decades of peace, i didn't. i didn't floss because when she did it for me in her tiny examination room my gums bled so much it took hours for me to wash the bitter taste of iron out of my mouth. blood is a nice concept and a nicer motif in writing. but it smells awful, and it's worst on the tongue. so i didn't floss my teeth, and i went through life with the kind of casual detached disinterest with which i had approached most things up until then. at my next check-up she asked once again if i had been flossing and i lied that i had. after poking and prodding around in my mouth for a few minutes and taking a scan for good measure she gave me a look and said dryly, 'you haven't been flossing at all, have you.'

disappointing your parents, your favorite high school english teacher, or even your best friend is nothing compared to the sheer embarrassment that comes from knowing your beautiful dentist asked you to do the bare minimum, and you failed to deliver. her voice was arid but we had known each other for long enough by then for me to detect a thin undercurrent of disappointment. i had done it. i had lost the support of the only person in my life who could be counted on to support me. because i paid her for her services. and she was also very funny in a quiet sarcastic way. and she was beautiful.

having had my ego wounded beyond description i resolved to floss from then on and succeeded in dragging my poor aching gums past the bleeding stage to a point where they were merely post-workout sore. then i lost interest and forgot about the white, sterile-smelling clinic that was a fifteen minutes' drive from my house and the little pack of dental floss on the bathroom counter faded into obscurity. two weeks before my next appointment in 2020, an alarm on my phone went off to inform me of the approaching day of judgment. i panicked.

'have you been flossing?' my dentist asked as i lay back in the faded green chair and she put on a pair of new gloves.

'yeah,' i said.

five minutes later, she removed her army of dentistry equipment from my mouth with a satisfied hum. 'i see that you have.' her eyes were smiling. 'your teeth look fine. i'll just clean them a little for you.'

i celebrated impressing my favorite dentistry professional in singapore by forgetting to floss for the next two months. soon after that i got on a plane to america, and then two more for good measure in case i hadn't grown sick of sitting and burning in my own skin already, and then twelve weeks of insanity ensued, the details of which we are surely all acquainted with by now. late nights, walks in the forest, afternoons spent in the sun. mismatched footsteps and strange acquaintances. an elaborate circus act staffed entirely by misguided but well-meaning teenagers. a ring of fire.

two weeks ago i bought a box of dental floss for ninety-nine cents. i think this might be what the anthropologists call 'adulthood'. i was at target with a friend and we were getting toothpaste, which we had both nearly run out of, when i saw the little flat box of dental floss hanging from a hook on the wall. my teeth weren't particularly disgusting (they haven't been, not since i learned how to brush them properly), but they weren't beautiful. it had been a while since i had been on my own mind. for the last three months, others' pain had been my main priority, and now that we had eliminated most of them from the picture, i found myself with more time in the mornings to stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how, exactly, i was doing.

how are you doing? i asked. and the answer was i felt like shit.

while i've stayed in dormitories before for extended periods of time i always got out of doing laundry by either submitting my dirty clothes to an on-campus service which disappeared them into a hole in the fabric of reality and returned them to you a day later, cleaned and folded outside your room so the first time i did laundry by myself in america, a week after arriving on campus, i felt invincible. buying an iced chai from the cafe on a thursday morning and then settling down to work on my laptop until my first class started at noon, i felt like a character in a career advisory ad, like someone who knew where they were going and how they were going to get there. standing in front of the bathroom mirror of my summer dorm, winding a strand of dental floss around my fingers, i felt like i had aged fifteen years in the span of just one, and that just this once, it was for the better.

according to my adult friends, no one ever fully feels or recognizes that they are an adult. adulthood is an ideal that all grown children strive towards the way body-builders aim for more and more muscle mass until there's nothing left of them but a pair of well-toned biceps. there are several industry-approved ways to be an adult, but there are no suggested ways to feel like one. this is part of the gaping maw of inadequacy our generation has fallen into. this afternoon i melted butter in a pan and beat two eggs, milk, salt, and garlic powder together in a bowl. pouring the egg mixture into the pan i began to scrape the edges frantically towards the center with a spatula. the whole process took no longer than two or three minutes. by the end of it my hand was shaking.

according to my adult friends you just wake up one day and start looking for ways to re-organize your pantry and that's when you realize: i'm getting old, aren't i? and i'm getting old, aren't i? twenty's just the start of what a friend recently told me her parents refer to as 'the decade of pain'. but the beginning of something is included in the timeline of its accomplishments, too, and it takes more blind faith to start something than we give ourselves credit for. i have never used a saucepan up until today. in my younger years i often boiled broccoli or cauliflower in a small pot over an electric stove. but the butter, the eggs, the smell of fat sizzling on a pan- this is new to me. this entire life is new to me.

leaving the familiar warmth of your family home, it suddenly occurs to you how fragile life is. how everything your mother has done for you until now has kept you on the path forward, and now you have been given the keys to the basement you have to remember to buy laundry detergent before you run out. it all comes together like this: the humming laundry machines, the hand towels, the fridge full of fruit and cheese. it keeps you alive.

and it's awful. our generation doesn't know what self-care is because we're too busy trying to care for a world which tries, time and again, to kick us off the carousel of life and move on without its ephemeral teenage charges. we are bad at this 'living' thing because we often forget that we are alive at all. look out the window and the world's burning. look into the kitchen, and- quiet. this past year has done nothing to improve the paintings on the wall. we've all known hopelessness. we've all known what it's like to wake up and feel nothing at all.

and yet my flatmate has a new york times cooking subscription that she says we're welcome to borrow if we want to look up a recipe for something like paella, brownies, whatever. the other day she made shrimp scampi and when she knocked on my door and said 'i made food, if you'd like some' i remember thinking living with other people was worth it if you could sit around a table and twirl pasta noodles around your fork in silence. tomorrow i think i'll go to target again and see if i can find more acai. i miss it. i miss singapore's overpriced acai places and their stupid too-high chairs.

and i am living life clumsily, but who cares? a life is a life; all you have to do is live it. the rest can come later, after the dust has settled on the windowsill.

06.09.21

[omenvs3000f21]

My brother’s boats

What I’ve Learned (Final Blog post)

My personal ethic is that human beings need nature and that it is our separation from nature that is the source of many of this world’s problems from pollution and climate change, to food security, wellness issues, and even lack of purpose. When we are able to access nature in meaningful ways we are not only healthier and more mindful of the world around us but we develop a relationship with nature and learn to care about it. As interpreters it is our role to help people make, or expand, that connection with nature.

As an Indigenous Person I am aware of the bounty that nature has provided my family and my ancestors in order for us to thrive for generations. Nature has not only provided us with food and resources but it has also given us traditions and skills to share through the generations that allow us to support each other. In many ways our relationships with nature provide us with a sense of meaning and purpose. It also comes with a responsibility to protect and defend nature.

Often when I consider my responsibilities to the future, I think of the Haudenosaunee philosophy of the Seven Generations. Onondaga Elder and Faithkeeper Oren Lyons explains the philosophy as such, “make your decisions on behalf of the Seven Generations coming, so that they may enjoy what you have today” (Lyons as cited by the United Nations Development Programme, 2020). For me this is twofold, first we must develop a relationship with the natural world so that we understand its importance to care for it and protect it so that future generations may also benefit from its richness. And secondly, we must teach those around us, especially the younger generations, to develop their own relationship with nature so that they too will care about it and protect it when they are of age.

Growing up in Labrador I had no shortage of access to nature. I grew up in what Jacob Rodenberg aspires to create:  “nature-rich communities where kids feel a deep and abiding love for the living systems that we all are immersed in” (Roddenberg, 2019).  My family home is located on the edge of a community of 450 people on the banks of a lake. In winter I can cross-country ski from my front step for hours, and in the summer I am minutes away from kayaking. Five years ago I moved to Montreal but I was able to go home several times a year with work, but since the beginning of the pandemic I have not been able to return as often as I would like. While reading our text book I was struck by the passage where Beck et al. describes the soothing and healing nature of nature and nature interpretation during times of crisis (Beck et al., 2018). These past two years have become the most city-bound I have ever been and it has made me realize a few things.

When I began reading Gallavan’s Helping Teachers Unpack their “Invisible Knapsacks”, I really thought at first that as an Indigenous Person I would not approach settler audiences from a place of privilege in nature interpretation. Although as I read Peggy McIntosh’s concept of the Invisible Knapsack that “the construct of privilege entails a set of beliefs and practices that are assumed or taken for granted by everyone throughout society” (Gallavan, 2005), I realized that I do come from a place of privilege when it comes to nature. I have a life long relationship with nature that has been passed down and shared in my family for countless generations, to the point that I don’t remember anyone introducing me to nature, it was just always there in my life. Not only that but every place we went to in nature had a story about a relative, ancestor, or friend who was once there. These past few years in the pandemic have made me realize that it can be very difficult to access nature for many people, and as such they don’t have these relationships or connections with nature that I was fortunate enough to have had. 

I am also very privileged to have what Larry Smith would call, “a great career” (Smith, 2011). This great career is as a journalist covering Indigenous news. I started with APTN and have been freelancing for the last five years. I come from a long line of storytellers, and writing has always been something that comes easily to me. While I love walking in nature and interpreting for everyone around, it’s really the written word where I shine, where I can reach the most people. I see many parallels between interpretive writing and journalistic writing, especially when the subject at hand is science or nature. As a journalist there’s a lot I can learn from the field of interpretation. As someone who practices science and environmental journalism, this passage from our textbook describing Alan Leftridge’s take on interpretive writing as a style and genre really stood out for me. Beck et al. (2018) writes, “Leftridge (2006) explains that interpretive writing is a genre, a definable style of writing. It is “intended to make intellectual and emotional connections between the reader and the resource, and it is goal-directed, with the intent of eliciting a pro-social response from readers” (chapter 14). For me this is also the essence of good science journalism, but I have never seen it put so succinctly. Science and nature journalism are fields that need more journalists who understand research. There is an epidemic of sensationalized and inaccurate science reporting as people try to get the most clicks possible. What good journalism and good interpretation have in common is that they spark curiosity. If we want to get people to care more about nature, then nature journalists need to heed the words of Larry Beck, “ interpretation offers more than instruction through facts. It uses facts to pass on the meaning of something and to develop deep understanding” (Beck et al., 2018, chapter 1).

This has been a very interesting course and I feel that I have learned so much from it to make myself both a better journalist and a better interpreter. I am looking forward to reading everyone else’s posts!

Thanks!

-Ossie

References 

Beck, L., Cable, T., & Knudson, D. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World. Sagamore Publishing.

Gallavan, N. (2005). Helping teachers unpack their 'invisible knapsacks'. Multicultural Education, 13(1), 36-39. http://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A137921591/AONE?u=guel77241&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=9fe2f151 

Rodenberg, J. (2019, June 17). Why Environmental Educators Shouldn’t Give Up Hope. Clearing Magazine. https://clearingmagazine.org/archives/14300 

Smith, L. (2011, November). Why You Will Fail to Have a Great Career [video]. TED. https://www.ted.com/talks/larry_smith_why_you_will_fail_to_have_a_great_career?language=en 

United Nations Development Programme. (2020). Planning for the Future. Making Things Better. https://sdgs.undp.org/2020-sustainable-consumption/chapter-2.html 

[someone-worth-racing-for]

Hey there!

I am quite new here and I was wondering how you got into this fandom. Specially the carlandofandom :)

Also, when did you start writing? I saw your posts the other day about not being able to write all of it, so it somehow triggered me to write some stuff myself (some requests were just too cute).

Havent been properly writing for ages though and I am not quite sure if anybody wants to read my stuff...any advice? Im so indecisive...

Thanks for all your great stories and have nice day :)

Hey you, anonym and especially – welcome to the fandom! 🤗❤️

Oh my God, believe me – you actually don’t want to know how I got to this fandom, it’s such a long story.. You better grab yourself some Coke and popcorn, because this will be a longer one.. 🥤🍿

But alright, everything has begun with that the TWD (The Walking Dead) fandom has started to annoy/boring me, also because the show has become pretty bad and I wanted to leave the sinking ship before it will be too late. That must have been around autumn/winter 2018. During the winter months I really, really love to watch ski jumping, also because it’s pretty popular in my country (Austria). I was already a fan of it since many, many years, but I only became a real fan at that time. I always say I love this sport so much, because those jumps are always so “quickly over” – meaning that I don’t have to wait for too long to find out the results. Yeah, the competition itself isn't that short, but the individual jumps of each athlete are. That’s why I actually “hate” F1 so much, because I have to wait freaking two hours of pure stress, several mental breakdowns and heart attacks later to finally find out who will win, and also because so much can happen during a race, while those ski jumpers are practicing individual – does that make any sense!? However, so I got pretty deep into the ski jumping fandom over that time, especially also here on Tumblr, where I have met a pretty nice girl back then, who had been as thrilled about the fandom as me. But you know, during the summer there aren’t any competitions, so it had been pretty boring in the ski jumping fandom and then suddenly that girl came up with F1.

The first thing I have thought was ‘NO WAY! NEVER EVER!’ – you have to know, I have really hated F1 with a passion before August 2019. I was always making fun of my boyfriend watching those cars driving in circles for two hours. I just couldn’t understand it how someone can watch that voluntary (I sometimes still can’t..😅) and I really, really hated it with everything I had. My boyfriend even was at the Austrian GP in 2019 and back then my biggest nightmare would have been if he would have forced me to come with him (he got there with his father in the end – today I would give everything to get there!)

I remember, we have been on vacation during the beginning of August 2019. We were in a theme park, when my boyfriend said at one point that he will get over to that bench in the shadow under the tree now and watch the qualifying. I have really thought he was kidding me, because I couldn’t understand how the hell someone would watch something so stupid like F1, while being in a freaking theme park. Well, today I would be the one sitting there on the bench, while my boyfriend would probably urge me to please finally stand up so we could go on 😅

That was at the beginning of August 2019 – so I must have slowly but sure fallen for the fandom around 15th of August. And if you believe me or not, but I have neither fallen for Lando nor for Carlos at the first place. It was actually Max, also because he was one of the less drivers I have known next to Lewis, Sebastian, Valtteri (I always had to think about Harry Potter because of Bottas..😂) and probably Nico. But I have actually began to “stalk” when I have got to know about that Max has a little sister and I have found those sweet pics of him with her together (Do you know which pics I mean? You should really check them out – they are so cute). And somehow Lando came into the play as well and so my first story for this fandom resulted. Back then I have really, really thought it would be the first and also last story I will ever publish for this fandom. Well, that didn’t aged well..😅 Somehow my interest grew and grew with every more day stalking the internet for content and by the time of the first race after the summer break, I was already a fan. Spa 2019 has been the first F1 race I have ever watched from the start till the end and I have to say that this weekend has broken me (literally). Of course, because of Anthoine, but also because this time of the year is since 2017 never easy for me and on that weekend also Carlando finally came into the play. Check out this post from a few weeks ago – Carlos’ birthday on Sunday and that Lando has supposedly hugged Carlos after his DNF has really, really touched my heart and since that day these two boys own my heart and I remember, that the next day after the race I have got up at five in the morning to write “Tomorrow will be kinder” – because writing is sometimes my only way to deal with things, so I just had to write my thoughts/feelings down and it was the beginning of something beautiful actually.

But there is one more little story I have to tell you about my F1 past – this story right here is actually one of @hurtsprincess favourite ones. Because back in 2015, when F1 was finally back in Austria again, I was there by the race as probably the biggest F1-hater under all of them. Half of our town and so also most of our friends has got there, so it was kind of peer pressure, why I have finally joined them as well. We had to stand up really, really early – actually it was still in the middle of the night (I think it was three in the morning or so) and got to Spielberg with the bus. It was one of the hottest day of the year back then and after watching “the race of generations” with Niki Lauda, Gerhard Berger and some others and then following also the F3 and F2 races (Me, back in 2015: What do you mean there are races before the actual race? What the hell is F3 and F2?) and because we were so damn tired after standing up so early, most of us, including myself, were sleeping in the meadow during the F1 race. So I have missed over half of the race and I really can’t even remember anymore who has won 😅 But it had still been a funny day for my as a F1-hater, but believe me - if I should ever get to a GP again, this won’t ever happen to me again! 😅 I promise! 🤞🏼

Wow, this has turned out longer than you have actually wanted it, right anonym?! 

Your first question about how I have got into the Carlando fandom is probably answered now and also half of your second question. But I have actually started writing fanfictions back in autumn 2016 for the TWD fandom. I have written overall 16 stories for that fandom and 4 stories in German for the ski jumping fandom, but as much as I have already loved to write fanfictions back then, it only really became my passion and biggest hobby with Carlando. I just can’t stop writing about them, also because they make me so happy and for me so easy with those dorks just being them 😊

Yeah, I’m still very sorry about that I just can’t write stories to all of these great requests, even tho I would really, really like to do - but if you have got inspired by one of these, you should give it a try!

But if you are really that indecisive and shy, you could use the anonymity of the internet for your favor (in this case this posibilty is a good thing - as long as you use your anonymity not for spreading hate/attacking/bullying someone) You know what I mean? I actually did/do that as well. Only three people here on Tumblr know who I really am. Some of you may know from where I am (because I don’t make a secret out of it) and some here even know my name, but that’s it. I don’t share any more personal things about my identity, because I also prefer to stay anonymous here, especially because only my boyfriend, my best friend and my mother know about that I’m writing fanfictions. All those other people I call “friends” don’t know about it or me having this account here and I also don’t want them to know, because they simply wouldn’t understand it.

What I’m trying to say here - if it makes you feel better and also more secure, you could upload your story on AO3 without telling anyone it’s you. Or if you don’t want to post it on AO3 and you also don’t want to post it on your Tumblr account, I offer you to send me your story anonymous. I would post it in your “name” aka anonym, saying that this story isn't mine and you could watch/read the reactions.

You don’t have to lose anything, anonym 😉 I would really, really like to read your story, no matter if you will decide to publish it with your name or anonymous. Because there won’t ever be enough writers out there, blessing us with their great stories. Also because I am as much a passionate reader than a writer. And I’m also pretty sure about that you are talented and also about that your story would be more than just worth reading it 😊

Thank you so much for your message, anonym and I’m sorry my answer turned out to be so long 😅 but I really hope my words have helped you in some way, because I’m pretty sure about that you actually don’t have to have a reason to be that shy and indecisive 😉 Just give it a try, as long as it makes you happy 🤗❤️

[redsamuraiii]

14 Slice of Life Anime to Watch

For those who don’t watch anime, the first thing that comes to mind at the mention of the word “anime” is those pervertic lewd jokes which they’ve seen on clips and meme circulating the internet. I don’t even know what anime are those.

But little do they know of the wide variety of genres available from war action, crime thriller, historical fiction to slice of life. So sharing here is a list of slice of life anime which I’ve watched and hoping to discover more of such genres.

They’re basically a relatable and chill anime with no complex plot involving die-hard enemies out to destroy you, that sort of thing, the only enemy these characters are trying to defeat is life itself or their inner-self.

They’re just stories of characters just going about their daily lives, trying to find their place in the world. I not only like the heartwarming relationships they shared but the scenery of these places too which are simply beautiful. 

They’re so pleasant to watch. It's kind of like the anime version of curling up under the blanket on a rainy afternoon and just feeling good, makes you feel all calm and relax, when you simply want to chill and switch off your mind. And hey, if you know any similar type of anime that I don’t, please share with me! I’m currently looking for more of such anime to watch in these stressful and uncertain times!

Only Yesterday (1991)

Taeko Okajima is single 27 year old who has lived her whole life in Tokyo. She decides to take a trip to visit her family in the rural countryside of Yamagata to get away from the city life. During her stay, she finds herself increasingly nostalgic and wistful for her childhood self, while simultaneously wrestling with adult issues of career and love, and the decision to leave her city life behind.

Whisper of the Heart (1995)

Shizuku Tsukishima is a book-worm who spends her summer vacation reading and translating popular foreign music into Japanese. With aspirations to one day become a writer, Shizuku can't help but notice that the name Seiji Amasawa appears on every one of the books she borrows from the library. Her meeting with this person changes her life which led to a discovery of her hidden dreams.

From Up on Poppy Hill (2011)

Umi is a high school girl, living with her family in the beautiful seaside town of Yokahama Bay. Each day she raises a pair of flags in anticipation of the return of her sailor father, who went missing years ago. One day she meets Shun, a member of the school's literature club, and the two students decide to restore the school's rundown clubhouse to its former glory.  

Hanasaku Iroha (2011)

Ohana Matsumae is a 16-year-old from Tokyo, who is left in the care of her estranged maternal grandmother, following her mother's elopement with her boyfriend. Ohana arrives at her grandmother's country estate to realize she is the owner of a Taishō period hot spring inn called Kissuisō. Little does she knows that she’s about to bring all the employees closer together as a family.

Non Non Biyori (2009)

The story takes place in the countryside small town village of Asahigaoka, a place lacking many of the conveniences that people from the city are accustomed to. The nearest stores are a few miles away and one of the local schools consists of only five students, each of whom is in a different grade of elementary or middle school. Hotaru Ichijo, a fifth grader from Tokyo, transfers into Asahigaoka and has to adjust to countryside life with her new friends.

Flying Witch (2016)

The story is about Makoto, a young witch from Yokohama, who moves to Hirosaki, Aomori to live with relatives as part of her training. What follows is Makoto's daily life as she gets used to her new environment. Her relatives and the new friends she makes there are introduced to the customs and peculiarities of witchcraft. It’s kind of like Kiki’s Delivery Service with a touch of Harry Potter.

Yuru Camp aka Laid-Back Camp (2018)

It follows  Rin Shima, a solo camper who befriends Nadeshiko Kagamihara and the girls from the Outdoor Activities School Club, as they share their love of nature and camping. You’ll go on an adventure with them to various campsites, from pitching tents to gathering firewood, and eating under the stars. If you love this series, please know that there will be a new season coming January 2021!

Long Riders (2016)

Upon seeing someone ride on a bike, college student Ami Kurata buys a folding bike and takes up cycling with her friend Aoi Niigaki. After meeting experienced cyclists Hinako Saijo, Yayoi Ichinose, and Saki Takamiya, Ami starts going further into the world of road cycling and soon forms her own team, Fortuna.

Yama No Susume aka Encouragement of Climb (2013)

Aoi Yukimura is a quiet girl who prefers staying indoors and is afraid of heights. When she reunites with her childhood friend Hinata Kuraue, who is outgoing and loves mountaineering, they decide to climb a mountain together, in order to see a sunrise they saw together when they were younger. Along the way, they meet several other girls who are also interested in the outdoors, and begin a series of adventures on various mountains across Japan.

Sakura Quest (2017)

Yoshino Koharu is a young woman from the countryside who is hell bent on finding a job in Tokyo, but only met a series of rejections. The only job offer she received was from a tourism board of an economically struggling Manoyama, a small town in the countryside. Left with no other options, Yoshino reluctantly agrees to take on the role as “Queen” of Manoyama who will aid the Board of Tourism in their efforts to revitalize Manoyama. Determined to bring excitement to the dying town with the help of local residents, the queen enacts a series of projects to highlight the beauty and charm of Manoyama's culture. 

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikō (1998)

Set in a peaceful, post-cataclysmic world where mankind is in decline after an environmental disaster. The reduced human population has reverted to a simpler life. It follows the story of Alpha Hatsuseno who is an android that runs an out-of-the-way coffee shop, on the lonely coast of the Miura Peninsula of Japan, while her human "owner" is on a trip of indefinite length. It shows her daily activities, either alone, with customers, or on occasional trips through the countryside. It brings out the small wonders of everyday life.

Minami Kamakura High School Girls Cycling Club (2017)

It follows the life of Hiromi who just moved from Nagasaki to Kamakura and wants to learn the ride a bicycle in order to explore the coastal city! Her passion for cycling allowed her to make new friends with similar interest, and eventually forming their own cycling club in school, attracting more people as they discover the wonders of Kamakura and friendship. There’s even a cycling tip video clip at the end of every episode, so better watch out for it if you’re interested in cycling!

Super Cub (2021)

An ongoing anime about a lonely girl, Koguma, who lives alone with no parents and no friends nor hobbies feeling her life empty, until one day, when she bought an affordable second hand super cub bike to ride to school that her life began to change gradually, from meeting new friends with similar interest, to exploring new places she’s never been to before, feeling her life began to expand.

Let’s Make a Mug Too (2021)

Another ongoing anime about Himeno Toyokawa who moved to back to her father’s hometown of Gifu Prefecture to start over a new life after he lost his job in the city and lost his wife due to illness. While her father decides to open a café, Himeno discovers her interest in pottery and ceramic art, a craft that is popular in the prefecture and met new friends who are both experienced and new to the craft. She hopes to help her dad make foodware for the café.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[quokkacore]

you stole my star [kim junmyeon]

summary: ‘defeat the bad guys, save the universe, get the guy.’ that’s how it’s supposed to work, and you intend to follow it in that exact order, because it seems pretty complicated to not do it that way. but your team leader, junmyeon, makes you want to throw the entire plan out the window.

pairing: blackpaladin!kim junmyeon x gender neutral redpaladin!reader

genre: voltron!au, sci-fi, angst with a happy ending, i guess?

warnings: language, mentions of torture, war, and violence, implied self hatred, implied ptsd, mentions of attempted self injury, slight body horror?, mentions of amputations and forced body modification (reader is forcibly experimented on and given a prosthetic arm)

song rec: daft crush - instant crush (feat. julian casablancas) ♡ coldplay (feat. rihanna) - princess of china 

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this was originally posted to my old writing blog on november 30th, 2018. at the time i loved the voltron reboot and was still optimistic that the final season wouldn’t suck. for those of you who don’t know what voltron is: voltron is a giant mech robot formed by five smaller robots in the shape of lions. each lion is piloted by a paladin, and the lion chooses their paladin according to the traits the person possesses.

masterlist

The training room was where you spent most of your free time, nowadays. You missed the days where you were able to throw yourself into bed and not get up until your body odor demanded you take a shower.

The training sequence you were currently practicing with was programmed for hand to hand combat. The drone you were fighting against was pushing you to your limits, feeling your muscles strain with every punch and kick you threw. You were quick to calculate when to dodge the punches the drone threw, when to step back when the drone advanced.

The drone advanced, and you took your opportunity, throwing a punch, followed by a kick to the stomach. The machine fell to the ground, but before you could finish, someone interrupted you.

“End training sequence.”

The drone vanished as it registered the command, and you rested your hands on your knees, lowering your head as you recognized the voice. “I almost had it there, you know,” You muttered bitterly, between pants. You heard him shift behind you.

“I know you did. But I needed to talk to you.”

You remained in your position for a few seconds, catching your breath, before standing back up straight and turning to face your leader.

Junmyeon had been your best friend, back on Earth, back at the academy where you both trained to be deep space pilots. Everything changed when the blue lion was found on earth, and you all realized Baekhyun was its pilot. It led you to the castle, which was also the ship you currently resided in, and eventually, to the rest of the lions that formed the mightiest weapon in the universe: Voltron.

As Baekhyun was destined to be the blue lion’s paladin, Sehun was to be the green lion’s paladin, Yixing the yellow lion’s paladin, and you the red lion’s paladin. Junmyeon had been destined for the black lion, the biggest one, making him the leader of the paladins by default.

“What is it?” You asked irritably, walking past him, pulling on your jacket and grabbing the bottle of water you always carried with you during training, both of which were next to each other on the floor next to the wall.

You eyed him warily as you uncapped the bottle, taking a long sip. He was still wearing his armor, black and white, fitting against his built, lithe body. His hair, slightly mussed from having worn his helmet, was sticking up in a few different directions. He looked rugged, handsome as always. But you were still pissed at him, regardless of how handsome he looked.

“I wanted to apologize,” He murmured, not meeting your gaze as he crossed his arms. You lowered the water bottle feeling a few drops fall down your chin as you leaned against the wall. You frowned and mirrored his posture as you crossed your arms as well.

“Jun, I get it,” You replied gruffly, pulling out the hair tie that was holding your hair up, “You’re under a lot of fucking stress. You’re the leader of the resistance against the Red Forces, and everyone looks up to you for guidance. I get that. But what you said? Calling me useless in front of the others, in the middle of a dogfight like that? Fucked up. Fucked. Up. I’m your second in command, Jun. I think I deserve a little more respect than that.”

“Why do you think I’m coming to apologize for!?” He fired back, immediately defensive. He was angry, you could tell, even as he looked down, and you shifted your gaze elsewhere. “You think I’m proud of the fact that I said that? I don’t, Y/N, not at all.”

His voice cracked, and you looked back to him, in shock. “Jun—”

“You’re not useless,” He insisted, voice quiet,” I was freaking out about what was happening. It’s the first time you’re in major combat since— since—”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. You knew what he meant.

About a year ago, you’d been captured in a major battle between the Red Forces and the Voltron Coalition. The months before your rescue were harrowing, full of torture and using you as their little lab rat. It didn’t cost you your life, but it did cost you your left arm.

Your left arm, which had been replaced with new RF tech in an experiment they’d performed on you. It wasn’t your arm. It was a piece of disgusting metal that was attached to your body and you hated it, almost as much as you hated the Red Forces themselves.

Ever since your return the team had been tiptoeing around you, especially Junmyeon. You were grateful for it, the first month or two, giving you your space and letting you recover, but the more time went on, the more restless you became, missions that could have been done much faster with your help became more tedious and dangerous as you were told to stay in the castle.

You were left behind with the others, Chanyeol, Minseok, Jongdae, Jongin, and Kyungsoo, all aliens of the same race whose planet had been destroyed by the Red Forces, to wait, and to be treated like glass began to put you on edge, until very recently when decided that it was time for you to rejoin the fight.

“Jun, I…” You lowered your head, sighing. “I get that you’re scared, I’m scared too. But I have to do this, not just for my sake, but for the sake of us. The universe.”

His hardened gaze was aimed towards the floor, but you could still see the uneasiness in it.

“Do you remember the medical assessment Chanyeol performed on you once we rescued you?”

Chanyeol was the head medical chief aboard the ship. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall.

Truth be told, your memory of the rescue, before it began, during, and after it ended, was fuzzy. Subconsciously, you’d forced it to the back of your mind, not wanting to remember the traumatic events that occurred. If Chanyeol had performed a medical assessment on you, which sounded logical, you couldn’t recall.

You shook your head, telling him this. He shut his eyes, and shuddered.

“I don’t think you’d fully realized what they’d done to your arm until that moment when Chanyeol asked you to move your fingers, because he wanted to see how the arm worked.“

He was looking at you now, the look in his eyes grim, pained. You could feel his breath fanning your face. When had he gotten so much closer to you?

“Y-you started crying and screaming, freaking out. Before long, we had to restrain you, because you were trying to pull it out with your other hand. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I couldn’t let you hurt yourself, more than you already were.”

You didn’t say anything, because you could feel your throat tightening.

“Y/N, you’re the red paladin. The red paladins are always the toughest ones, the ones that keep it together when everything is going to shit. It’s why we work so well together, if I freak out about something I know you’ll be there to help me through it. To see you like that, I…”

He didn’t finish.

You looked up to finally face him, and the tears in his eyes were prominent, but he immediately began blinking them away.

“I panicked today, because I didn’t want them to take you away from me again. A-away from all of us.”

“Jun,” You mumbled, voice weak. He paused. You began subconsciously counting the seconds that passed.

Three… four… five…

Junmyeon surged forward, engulfing you in a hug. His armor was cold against your skin, and you could smell the faint metallic smell that came from it. He smelled like the body wash he’d picked up in an alien trading post a few months ago, the one that made him smell like incense.

You shut your eyes tightly, arms coming up to embrace him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” He whispered, “And I know what I said isn’t justified but I don’t want you to think that I think—”

“Junmyeon?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Shut up for a minute, please.”

He didn’t answer, for which you were grateful. You willed your body to relax, your stiff limbs sighing in relief as you slumped against the black paladin.

You weren’t quite sure how long you stayed like that. But when you did break away, you could see that you were both crying. You sniffled, scrunching up your nose, before opening your mouth to speak. He did the same.

“I love you.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation, heartbeat accelerating rapidly. “What?”

Junmyeon licked his dry lips, eyebrows raised. “I said,” He murmured softly, as his words were only for you, “I love you.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.

“J-Junmyeon, I…”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. Sehun had always teased you about how you two made “googly eyes” at each other when the other wasn’t looking, but you always thought it was just his overactive imagination. On Junmyeon’s part, at least.

One of his hands left your back to come up to your face. His gloved hand wiped away one of the tears that had fallen down your face, and you sighed as the rough material dragged against your skin.

“I know it’s a bad time,” He explained, shaking his head, “What with the universe depending on us to save it, and all. But never for a second have I ever thought that you aren’t the one for me.”

You inhaled softly, a sad smile ghosting across your face. “Jun, I… I don’t know if I can do this, right now.”

His face fell, and he began to pull away from you, but you grabbed his face to keep him in place. His nose brushed against yours, and you gulped in anticipation. His face was unreadable, eyes gazing into yours earnestly, sadly.

“C-can I kiss you? Just this once?” He murmured, resting his forehead against yours.

You nodded, drunk off of his proximity. “P-please, Junmyeon…”

His lips were soft, gentle, and warm against yours, and you felt he was trying not to overstep your boundaries, not too harsh or overbearing. His hands pulled you slightly closer as yours gripped his face tighter than before. He hummed into the kiss, and you hummed back, hands going to run through his dark, already mussed up hair.

You pulled away slowly, slightly out of breath. You exhaled shakily, well aware of what you’d just done. “Junmyeon, we can’t. N-not right now.”

He nodded, but didn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to, anyway. But the moment you left this training room, it wasn’t Y/N and Junmyeon, it was the red and black paladins, leaders of the Voltron Coalition. If you decided to go through with a relationship, you risked ruining your friendship, as well as the whole way the both of you ran the rebellion against the Red Forces. It was simply too much of a risk.

“But if you’re willing to wait for me, Jun…” You murmured, meeting his melancholy stare. He nodded, soft smile returning.

“I will, Y/N. Promise.”

[atths--twice]

Well … here it is, the last chapter to this story. I can’t believe it’s come to the end already, but here we are.

This story, as I said at the beginning, was like a piece of me. It was begging to come out and be told. I’ve spent time in my own little world while I’ve written it. I’ve lived in the Unremarkable House with Mulder, traveled with Maggie to her destinations, and spent time at Scully’s apartment and smart house. I’ve had the chance to walk around their places and their lives and it has been an absolute pleasure. I feel like when I watch the episodes now or see clips and gifs of scenes, that something just before or just after happens as I imagined it, and that makes me happy. I know it’s what I personally imagined, but that doesn’t make it any less of a possibility now, does it? 😊

I hope you enjoy this last chapter and look forward to hearing what you all think.

Chapter Forty Five 

Epilogue

Life carries on, things change, but love remains. It may be quiet for a while, biding it’s time, but when it’s ready, it can bring down the heavens.  

April 2018

The spring air smelled of pine trees, flowers that were beginning to awaken, and the lake around him. Mulder stood on the back porch and looked at the view in front of him as he took a deep breath. The last time they were there it had been for Mrs. Scully’s funeral. That day had been excruciatingly painful, but the reason for the most recent visit was a happy one.

They deserved a happier memory to replace that sad one.

He turned around and looked at Scully through the window. She was in the kitchen, slicing up vegetables for their dinner. She smiled as she did, causing him to wonder if their baby was moving within her. Or perhaps she was thinking of the sex they had that morning. Either way, she was glowing. He shook his head at the realization that they were going to be parents.

Again. In their fifties.

Standing next to her a month ago as they went to her first OB appointment, he watched as the jelly stuff was placed on her stomach and the wand rolled across it. His heart remained in his throat as he watched Dr. Reynolds work the ultrasound. Noting his anxiety, Scully had reached for his hand and gripped it tightly.

When he heard the fast heartbeat whooshing through the small room, he pitched forward and fell to his knees, crying quietly as Scully caressed his hair and murmured to him. He cried for so many things, but mostly for the second chance they had been given. For each other, for Jackson, and for this new life they created.

As Scully got cleaned up and her clothes rearranged, Dr. Reynolds handed him a printout of their baby, and he thanked her as he tried to make sense of it. She laughed and showed him where the baby was and how to read the printout. He stared at it for the longest time, thinking of Scully going through this on her own last time. How she must have felt holding proof of a miracle in her hands. A miracle just like this one.

Scully’s hand on his arm broke his gaze from the paper. Looking up at her, she smiled at him, tears in her eyes as she too looked down at the sonogram photos. She squeezed his arm and took a deep breath.

“Mulder,” she said quietly and looked up at him again. He nodded, knowing what she was thinking.

“So small,” he breathed, touching the pictures. “A little bean.” Scully laughed softly and then sniffled as she nodded.

They left the doctors office and went to get something to eat. Scully was famished, but he could not stop looking at the photos. At the little bean that was created the night they came back to each other and began their journey home. He or she was the testament of patience, love, and faith. They had never given up and this was their reward.

“Mulder, are you going to look at those the entire time we’re eating?” Scully teased, smiling at him, her eyes so happy.

“I am,” he said, propping the photos up against the napkin holder and picking up his fork. She laughed and squeezed his hand before resuming her meal. He winked at her and shoved a huge bite in his mouth, making her laugh and shake her head.

Louise called a couple of weeks after the appointment, to see how Scully was doing. She called every so often, checking in and bringing news of her family, especially tales of Pip and the fun he had with Annie’s and also Marcus’s children.

“Dana, I don’t know if you’re busy working now or not, but I wanted to extend the use of the lake house to you anytime you would like to go,” Louise said, before saying goodbye. “It sits there empty a majority of the year, so I wanted to let you know you’re welcome to it.”

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, telling him of the offer for the house. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her with a smile. She called Louise back and asked if they could use the house that weekend.

“Stay for a week,” she said happily and told them that the hidden key was located inside the small decorative frog in the garden. She was not sure of its precise location since they moved it each time, but she described what it looked like and Scully assured her that they would find it.

They packed up and headed out two days later, the windows down, letting the early spring air whip through the car. Mulder reached for her hand and she smiled, her other hand on her belly, lovingly stroking the small bump that was growing every day. He loved watching her close her eyes and sigh happily. Lifting their joined hands, he kissed the back of hers, and she hummed.

Stopping at the only store close to the lake, they bought groceries for the week and headed to the house. Upon arriving, they put the items away and then checked the place out. Scully had been there before, but not since she was a teenager. They found the master bedroom, and Mulder flopped down on the bed, patting the spot next to him and wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“No green face mask this time,” he said as Scully came toward the bed. Instead of laying down though, she straddled him, and his hands rested on her hips.

“If I had actually joined you that night, would it really have mattered?” she asked, rocking against him, making them both moan.

“If you had joined me like this, oh hell no,” he said, his fingers creeping under the hem of her shirt, digging into her flesh, causing her to hiss. “But really, if you had gotten onto the bed … I’m not sure how I would have reacted. Spontaneous human combustion does really happen, right?” His hands moved to her ass and she arched into him.

“It’s been documented. But wouldn’t it have been worth it to try?” she asked, wiggling her hips and then leaning down for a kiss.

“In case you forgot,” he said against her mouth, before kissing her again, his tongue stroking along hers. “I invited you to come to bed.”

“Mmmm, I know,” she said kissing his chin, cheeks, down his neck. “And it was an almost immediate regret when you left the room.” She murmured against his skin.

“Almost?” he shakily asked, her mouth and kiss making him feel dizzy with desire.

“Well yeah, I had to get that mask off before I could get off,” she breathed in his ear before biting the lobe. He yelped and arched up into her, his fingers gripping tightly.

“You … you … ” he sputtered, and she bit his earlobe again.

“Mmm, indeed I did. And I thought of you the whole time. How your hands would feel on me, how your lips would taste, your skin." She punctuated her words with kisses, making him pant and then groan. “I wanted you so badly and had to settle for my own fantasies.” Pushing on his chest, she sat more fully across his groin. She lifted her shirt off and threw it next to her.

Oh dear God, he thought as he saw her bra. Black lace with pink ribbon interwoven in it. Christ, she was going to be the death of him. She smirked at him, seeing his wide eyes, before taking his hands and placing them over her breasts.

“Mmmm, the reality is so much better than the fantasy,” she breathed before she was silenced by his kiss.

Clothes were scattered and hands and lips began to worship the flesh that was revealed. She showed him what she fantasized that night in that lonely bedroom in California. Astride him, their hands locked together above his head, she took what she wanted. Her cries of pleasure were heard not long after, the feeling and her own memories seeming to spur on her release.

“God, Mulder,” she panted, falling against his chest, her body convulsing around him. “That was … God … mmmmm.” She worked at catching her breath, his hands releasing hers and running up and down her slick back. She was exquisite and he planned to show her exactly how much he loved her.

She raised her head and smiled at him, the sated one he loved. But they were not finished and she knew it. “You good?” he asked and she hummed.

“I could be better,” she said, squeezing her internal muscles and he flipped them so quickly she yelped.

He pulled out and thrust back in, making her moan and grip his shoulders tightly, her nails then scratching down his back. He kissed her as he continued pounding into her, chasing his release and knowing this would bring her close to the edge again. His tongue swirled in her mouth as he pushed inside her and stopped.

He sucked her tongue and then bit her lip before looking at her as he began moving again. Her arms wrapped around his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. Looking into her eyes as he began to move again, while he did not vocalize them, the words were shared between them.

I love you.

You were my touchstone.

And you are mine.

I love you.

He crashed over the edge, spilling inside her and she tightened around him, crying out and holding him tightly. He fell onto her as he continued to empty into her. She hummed in pleasure and happiness, her feet running slowly along his ass and thighs.

Her hands moved to his hair, her fingers scratching at the back of his neck, running in his hair. Placing kisses on her neck, he tried to slow his breathing. “Better?” he murmured, kissing under her chin.

“Hmmmm. Better, much better,” she hummed and he laughed.

That night had seemed to open a floodgate. Since the doppelgänger case, they had been having sex more frequently, but that night and the past four days, had been like an awakening. They had sex in every room of the lake house, and every time was better than the last.

Shaking his head, he looked inside the house again and saw Scully was still preparing their dinner. Maybe he could persuade her to take a little break. No matter that she had dropped to her knees and taken him in her mouth before he carefully lifted her against the shower wall just a couple of hours ago, he was feeling the need to be inside her again.

He walked into the house and she turned to him with a smile. “Should be ready in about thirty minutes,” she said, putting the chicken and vegetable meal into the oven. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing into her, letting her feel his desire.

“Again?” she asked with a smile, closing the oven door and setting the timer. “I would have thought the shower would have worn you out.” Turning around in his arms, he pushed them toward the counter, pinning her against it, before kissing her deeply.

Her hand moved down to palm him through the thin track pants he was wearing. She grasped and caressed him before sliding her hand inside and holding him firmly.

“God,” he moaned as he pushed into her hand, his head falling to her shoulder, craving her touch. She stroked him, her hand twisting as she knew he liked and he made an incoherent sound.

“Lift me onto the counter, Mulder,” she whispered. “God, you make me so horny. So wet.” He raised his head to look at her and her eyes flashed with desire. She squeezed him and he made the noise again. Laughing she took her hand out of his pants, his protests not taken into consideration.

She was wearing a blue silky robe with light silver flowers on it that she had found hanging on the back of a door. When she untied the belt, he discovered she was completely naked underneath. She stared at him with lust filled eyes, and he shook his head at her beauty.

Her breasts were perfect, her skin so soft and freckled in the most adorable spots. The swell of her belly with their growing child inside, made her even more beautiful to him. His hands splayed across the bump and then around to her hips to lift her onto the counter like she asked.

She was open to him and he needed to taste her. Pulling her forward to the edge of the counter, he opened her legs wider before bending and kissing her center, finding her wet, just as she had said she was. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she cried out, pushing his head to her pelvis. He slid two fingers into her and crooked them, as he continued licking and sucking at her.

“Mulder, God,” she cried out, her legs shaking and her toes digging into his shoulders. “Do that again. All of it.”

And he did, over and over, until she broke around him, his name repeatedly falling from her lips, her fingers wound tightly in his hair. He kissed her inner thighs, her belly, and up to breasts, sucking and licking her nipples.

He kissed her mouth, her right arm holding tight to his neck, her left hand trying to push his pants down. Laughing into her mouth, he helped her get his pants down enough to slide inside of her. Her legs wrapped around him and she nudged her heels into him, spurring him on.

Chuckling, he started moving. Her grip on his neck remained tight, her legs around him, and he knew she wanted it faster and harder. Happy to oblige, he pulled her closer to him and began to pump into her faster.

“Yes, Mulder,” she said, her breasts bouncing as he went faster. “God, you feel so good. Harder. Oh, yesssss.” Throwing her head back, her hand held onto his neck as he pounded into her hard. He moved his right hand and put his thumb on her clit, rubbing it as he began to reach his peak.

“Oh, Jesus,” she said, her nails scratching at his neck. “Don’t stop. Mmmmulder...” She cried as she came, arching back and held in place by his body pushing into hers and an arm around her waist.

A few more hard thrusts, her body shaking under him, he came hard and fast, staying deep inside her as he did. His fingers gripped her waist tightly and he moved his other hand to join its mate.

Her legs remained tight around him as he caught his breath. Lifting his head, he looked at her splayed out, her robe open and sliding off her shoulders. Goddess in the flesh, he thought. She raised her head and looked into his eyes.

“How do you do that?” she asked incredulously, a huge smile on her face. “Make me want you so badly? Only you, Mulder. Only you.” She sighed and wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, his thumbs caressing her hip bones and giving her the chills.

Foreheads touching, he laughed and she smiled. “Only you, Scully. Only you,” he said quietly, and then a buzzing sound was heard. She laughed and pulled her head back, her eyes dancing.

“Dinner’s ready,” she laughed and he joined her before sliding from inside her and pulling up his pants. He turned off the timer and took the food from the oven. Turning back to her, he grinned at the sight of her- disheveled and happy, her robe still open.

He stepped toward her and helped her down, holding her tightly as she got her balance. “Be right back,” she said, kissing him and heading to the bathroom. He grinned at the sight of her and then saw about getting dinner on the table.

___________

Two days later, they were spending the last day walking around the lake hand-in-hand, skipping stones, and enjoying the atmosphere of the area. They came to the log they sat on after her mother’s funeral and for a second Scully faltered in her steps. He put a hand on the small of her back and waited until she was ready before they proceeded.

They sat on the log, neither saying anything, just listening to the quiet around them. Sitting for a few minutes, her head dropped to his shoulder, and he rested his head on hers.

“I said before that she had it all planned out, Mom, I mean. Not just the letters and all that, but us. She was there to help you, and she was in my corner over my decisions of the past. She listened, led, but didn’t push. That was her, even when we were little. She guided, but it was always our decision,” she lifted her head and looked at him, gesturing between them. “This was our decision, Mulder, but she absolutely was guiding us toward this path. She loved you so much, loved us together, I know it broke her heart when we weren’t.” She looked at him with sad eyes before she smiled. “She would be so happy to see us here, to know she had done what she set out to do.”

Mulder chuckled and reached for her hand. “I think you’re right. She was a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure. All you Scully women- stubborn and opinionated, but every one of you was exactly who I needed.” He looked at her and grinned, while she narrowed her eyes at him before smiling.

They fell silent again until he stood up, as the sun began to set. He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

“I love you, Scully,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you too, Mulder,” she answered. He let her go and took her hand, walking back toward the house. He had a surprise for her, and he was looking forward to giving it to her.

He told her to sit on one of the chairs by the water and to wait for him. She frowned but did as he asked, sitting in the chair and waiting. He walked into the house and went to fetch the items he found on one of his few solo trips to town. Grabbing them, a marker and the lighter, he went back outside.

“So, I saw these at the store and thought it might be a nice way to close out the week here, a place we know your mom liked to visit,” he said rejoining her at the chairs. She looked up expectantly and saw he was holding two floating paper lanterns. He sat down and handed her hers.

“Mulder,” she breathed. “This is wonderful. Thank you so much.” She looked at him and smiled.

“If you want to write something, I have a pen. Then we light them and let them float out to sea. Or lake, as it were,” he said with a smile. He handed her the pen and she held it, as if contemplating what to write.

“I think, I’d rather just think it as we let them go,” she told him, and he nodded, feeling the same way.

He put the small tea lights in that came with the lantern and then used the lighter to light them. When they began to glow, he helped her from her chair and they walked to the water's edge. He handed her her lantern and looked at her. Tears in her eyes, she closed them, and he did the same.

He thought of Mrs. Scully and all she had done, not just the past couple of years, but since he met her. She was always his champion, his protector, and he never deserved it from her. He was her daughter’s work partner and her friend, nothing more, but she had taken him in and cared for him.

Fox Mulder, that’s an outright lie and you know it. You were never just her partner and friend.

And of course I was your protector. That’s what family does, Fox. It shows up and keeps us safe.

He opened his eyes, practically hearing her voice speaking to him, and he smiled despite his tears. She would be right. She was exactly who she needed him to be, his protector, confidant, and friend. But more than that, she was his mother when his own had left this earth. He would try every day to be the person she saw in him.

“You ready?” Scully asked him quietly. He nodded and she smiled softly. They both took off their shoes and stepped into the water far enough to push their lanterns out to catch the small current.

They floated out slowly as Mulder put his arm around Scully. Her arms went around his waist, and they stood watching the lanterns float close to them and then drift further out. The candles inside them glowed brightly as they stood together, their feet in the water.

“Do … do you hear that, Mulder?” she asked, dropping her arms from his waist and looking around. “Tell me you hear that.”

“I don’t hear anything, Scully,” he said perplexedly, looking around with her, but hearing only silence. “Wait, does it sound like trumpets? Because I heard that before when we-“

“No, it’s not … it’s not trumpets,” she said slowly, stepping back and out of the water, still looking around. “It’s … music. A song. It’s … Beyond the Sea. That was my parents’ song. My mom told me years ago that … that it was playing when my father came back from the Cuban blockade. He walked off the boat, right up to her, and proposed as that song was playing and it became their song. Mulder, please tell me you can hear it?” She looked at him imploringly and he shook his head.

“Scully,” he said, stepping from the water and joining her. “I really don’t hear it. Maybe … maybe it’s meant for only you to hear.” He smiled at her with a tilt of his head and her eyes filled with tears as she nodded at him.

They put their shoes on and walked to the porch of the house. Turning around, they watched the now tiny lanterns sitting in the water, occasionally bumping away from each other, but then floating back and staying together. Mulder smiled as he watched them.

“Somewhere, beyond the sea,” Scully began to sing softly. “Somewhere waiting for me, my lover stands on golden sands, and watches the ships, that go sailing. We'll meet beyond the shore, we’ll kiss just as before, happy we'll be beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailing.” She put her arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing as they stood watching the lanterns get further and further away.

She squeezed his side and then looked up at him. “Let’s go to bed, Mulder,” she said with a happy smile that he answered with his own. They went inside, arms wrapped around each other, and closed the door, turning out the lights and heading to bed.

The two lanterns continued to shine on the water, while on the dock, a light seemed to appear that could not be explained. Inside it, unseen by anyone, Maggie and Bill danced and held each other, their invisible presence creating a peace.

“We can’t stay much longer, Maggie Girl,” Bill said in her ear, and Maggie nodded against his chest.

“I know. I just wanted to see them. With their eyes on the lanterns, I thought they wouldn’t notice our presence, but our girl continues to surprise me,” she said with a chuckle. Bill laughed with her as the music surrounding them reverberated through his laugh.

“That she does, Maggie. That she does,” Bill pulled back and looked at her. She stared in his eyes and nodded with a smile.

“They’re happy. They found their way back to each other, just where they were always meant to be. And a baby, Bill. A little girl. ” She smiled, shaking her head with tears in her eyes, as she took his hand, ready to go now that she had seen them. The light on the dock glowed brightly and then disappeared, leaving the night dark and quiet.

The lanterns in the water glowed brightly simultaneously once more and then extinguished. Crickets began to chirp, a frog croaked, and an owl hooted, the night peaceful.

Inside the lake house, Mulder and Scully lay entwined, flesh to flesh, each with a hand resting on the swell of life growing and changing inside of her. They sighed simultaneously, their fingers locking together before closing their eyes and sleeping.

Their dreams were peaceful, the darkness ceding to the light and restoring harmony in their lives. Their path was clear, the road smooth. Yes, there would still be times of struggle as this new journey began, but they were ready. It had taken four years to repair their broken hearts, and they were not going to let them break again.

They found their way back to one another, with the help of a guiding hand. One who loved them and championed for them. Who saw the love between them and directed them to the correct path. Behind them, gently pushing, guiding, and making sure there was no longer the rocky terrain of the past to stumble upon, the path clear.

True soulmates would always return to one another, and once rejoined, they could not be torn apart again.

Some souls just need a guiding hand to help the journey along, to be a marker in the road, and the light illuminating the path ...

It's far beyond a star It's near beyond the moon I know beyond a doubt My heart will lead me there soon

______________________________________________________

So, now we truly have reached the end. What a journey it has been. They were broken, possibly forever, but Maggie would hear none of that. She nurtured and guided until those two dummies could figure it out on their own. She loved them both so much, no chance would she give up on them. ❤️

Thank you all for reading this and taking this journey with me. I wrote it last year and it was a half a year of hardcore writing for me. Seeing everyone’s reactions every day has made me so happy. I love reading your comments, they just make me smile and they plant little seeds of loveliness in my thankfulness garden. I think of them throughout the day and I just smile.

And now, their story continues in the series Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series on Archive of Our Own, if you are interested in hopping over there. This story is a part of the series, the beginning as it were. You can read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407691 but I am also going to begin posting them here as well. I hope you enjoy the continuation of their lives in real time- through the pregnancy and beyond.

Thank you all for reading. 

[dweemeister]

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (final results)

TAGGING for the last time for 2020′s MOABOS: @addaellis​​; @birdsongvelvet​​; @cokwong; @emilylime5; @halfwaythruthedark; @idontknowmuchaboutmovies​​; @introspectivemeltdown; @maximiliani; @memetoilet; @monkeysmadeofcheese; @myluckyerror; @shootingstarvenator; @plus-low-overthrow​; @themusicmoviesportsguy; @theybecomestories; @umgeschrieben​; @underblackwings; @voicetalentbrendan​; and @yellanimal! I know some of you did not complete the final round, but you have been tagged in appreciation anyways.

I post this in full realization of how dark this day has been. It’s been a painful several hours in a deeply wounded country - a country that, for the first time in in a long time, has failed to secure a peaceful transfer of power. May this day not be an indication of what this new year may bring.

And now to the subject of this post.

I expected this final round to be a complete blowout for a certain song, based on my own personal predictions before MOABOS began and from eyeballing the point totals (which no longer decide the winner and placements for the final). That song did win, but with a razor-thin margin, preventing what might have been the biggest upset in the Movie Odyssey for Best Original Song’s history. I would’ve preferred the upset to the actual winner, but I am nevertheless very happy with the result.

31 respondents chimed in, slightly down by two from last year (my fault... but what a turnout!). The first set of standings you see are based on the points-based system that the preliminary round is based on. The final was formerly decided this way until too many one choice-one vote respondents skewed the process.

STANDINGS ON POINTS (USED ONLY AS A SECONDARY TIEBREAKER... the actual final result is the list below this one). Using the old method, the count would’ve looked like this (“Song”, Film title (points) / #1 votes).:

"Can’t Help Falling in Love”, Blue Hawaii (163) / 8

“Theme from New York, New York”, New York, New York (149) / 2

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, New Orleans (134) / 3

“Farewell to Storyville”, New Orleans (124.5) / 3

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”, Weathering with You (116) / 3

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (111.5) / 1

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (114.5) / 3

“Happy Endings”, New York, New York (104.5) / 1

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, Melody Time (103.5)

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, Three Little Girls in Blue (103) / 1

“Angela”, Aaron Loves Angela (92) / 2

"Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, Frankie and Johnny (92)

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)”, The T.A.M.I. Show (74) / 2

“Moonlight Swim”, Blue Hawaii (64) / 1

“Personality”, Road to Utopia (60.5)

"Exsultate Justi”, Empire of the Sun (49) / 1

That’s a sizeable lead on points AND in #1 votes for “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. What did the actual results yield?

THE OFFICIAL TABULATION FOLLOWS.

We used a single transferable vote (which is explained visually here). With 31 votes, a song needed 50% + 1 vote of all #1 and transferred votes to be declared a winner. Thus, a song needed 16 votes to win. One ballot was discarded midway through the count due to that person only voting for one song, but the magic number remained 16. The top ten songs became nominees; the bottom six are considered honorable mentions:

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (FINAL STANDINGS)

"Can’t Help Falling in Love”, Blue Hawaii (1961)

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

“(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, New Orleans (1947)

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, Kaagaz Ke Phool

“Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?”, Weathering with You (2019, Japan)

“Farewell to Storyville”, New Orleans

“Theme from New York, New York”, New York, New York (1977)

“Angela”, Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

“Here They Come (From All Over the World)”, The T.A.M.I. Show (1964)

“Happy Endings”, New York, New York

“You Make Me Feel So Young”, Three Little Girls in Blue (1946)

“Moonlight Swim”, Blue Hawaii

“Exsultate Justi”, Empire of the Sun (1987)

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, Melody Time (1948)

“Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, Frankie and Johnny (1966)

“Personality”, Road to Utopia (1945)

Composed by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, and George David Weiss, your winner is “Can’t Help Falling in Love”. Ever since its debut in the film, it has been covered often by artists in various genres of music. And because of its ubiquity, it was also the song that perhaps came into this year’s MOABOS with the highest expectations of taking it all (aside from “Theme from New York, New York”). But spare a thought for “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam” (along with Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”, they jointly become the . It is one of the most spellbinding moments in all of Hindi cinema, a lovelorn anthem of classic Bollywood that has transcended its origins.

I also wanted to give a final shout-out to both songs from New Orleans (1947). Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday - two giants of American jazz - should have been the stars in that movie, but, because of the limited opportunities for black actors at that time, they are not. Armstrong has been part of MOABOS before, and I imagine we haven’t see the last of him. But for Billie Holiday, New Orleans was her only credited appearance in a feature film. This year’s MOABOS richly benefitted from her unique voice and musicality.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” joins these past winners:

2019: “I WIsh I Didn’t Love You So” from The Perils of Pauline (1947)

2018: “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” from Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing (1955)

2017: “Remember Me (Recuérdame)” from Coco (2017)

2016: “Stayin’ Alive” from Saturday Night Fever (1977)

2015: “Amhrán Na Farraige” from Song of the Sea (2014)

2014: “Rainbow Connection” from The Muppet Movie (1979)

2013: “The Gold Diggers’ Song (We’re In the Money)” from Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933)

I thank all of you for participating in 2020′s Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song. In a year defined by disruption and disease, I was happy to continue this small (and yes, time-consuming for everyone) end-of-year tradition with all of you. It is a privilege to share my love of classic films and musical tastes here on tumblr and elsewhere, and I hope all of you found some new films or music that caught your attention. With the end of this pandemic closer than ever before, I hope all of you stay safe as we navigate this year together.

The 2021 Movie Odyssey began several days ago. Another year of cinematic discovery beckons, and perhaps many of you might share some of that joy of discovery with me. Hope to see you here for a 2021 edition of MOABOS. Tabulation details are beneath.

31 ballots were submitted; sixteen #1 votes and transferred votes needed to win

2ND COUNT: One vote for “Exsultate Justi” is transferred to “New Orleans”:

3RD COUNT: One vote for “Moonlight Swim” to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”:

4TH COUNT: One vote for “You Make Me Feel So Young” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

5TH COUNT: One vote for “Happy Endings” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

6TH COUNT: Two votes for “Here They Come (From All Over the World)” to “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari”:

7TH COUNT: One ballot was discarded. One vote for “Angela” to “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?” 30 ballots remain; 16 to win.

8TH COUNT: One for for “New York, New York” to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”. The other went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”:

9TH COUNT: Three votes for “Farewell to Storyville” were transferred. One went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, another to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”, and the last one to “New Orleans”:

10th COUNT: Four votes for “Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?” were transferred. Three went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love. The fourth vote went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”.

11TH COUNT: Five votes for “Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari” were transferred. Four of those went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”; the other went to “New Orleans”:

12TH COUNT: Six votes for “New Orleans” were transferred. Four went to “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”. Two went to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” clinched victory on the 13th and final count by a margin of 16 votes to 14 for “Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam”.

[grandhotelabyss]

Obvious from the offensive quotation above—found on a blog recently popularized on right-wing TV—is the fatal contradiction in the radical feminist’s anti-transgender worldview. Is separation of identity from biology, the reversal of Freud’s infamous equation of anatomy and destiny, not the telos of second-wave feminism, as of the Marxism from which second-wave feminism was derived?—to wit: the destruction of gender identity itself, the refusal to apply gender definition, which was on this view only ever a legitimating ideology of labor exploitation, to the mere biological substrate out of which the free and ideally genderless subject is to be formed. And when the radical feminist accuses the rich of meddling in these matters, such moralism neglects that technological changes make the abolition of gender nearly inevitable. Once we went to live online, “biological sex” didn't stand a chance. The rich are only following this logic, not imposing it out of some strange religious desire. By "strange religious desire” I allude to the controversial thesis that contemporary evolving gender norms, among much else in our culture, represents a return of gnosticism, e.g., The Matrix with its retrospectively understood trans subtext. Writers up and down the status scale and all over the genre map and across the political spectrum[*] have argued that we live in a gnostic world and have been for almost a century, that postmodernism is nothing but late antiquity misspelled. As I think the cyberpunks once argued, gnostic theology was only ever a presentiment of “online.” But unless the radical feminist proposes to go back to church, I don't see what she plans to do about it from within the conceptual horizon of Marxism, which is in itself, as Eric Voeglin long ago taught us, always already gnostic. To secure matter as essence—among other things, to make boy and girl permanently adhere to bodies—requires a transcendent source of matter, rather than gnosticism's alien God scattered like gems through the offal of the demiurge’s botched work; sans a transcendent but, as it were, in-universe God, matter is pure virtuality, which the sovereign soul, the alien God within and therefore immanent to matter, can alter as it wishes. One caution: these moments of idealism and instability tend not to last, so we may all be going back to church eventually, whether we like it or not, and sooner than we think. In my novel Portraits and Ashes, which I wrote the year before the topic of gender identity began to occupy public consciousness, including mine, and which begins and ends in an abandoned church, I portrayed a cult that abolishes its congregants' gender (and not only gender) through surgical intervention and that alters their various personal pronouns to it. I did not have anything like transgender identity in mind, since I understand this identity to be a matter of individual determination, whereas my interest was in collective ecstasies. As the novel’s lexicon and motifs make clear, I was thinking of radical religious movements and their relation to communism—my direct inspiration was probably the Skoptsy, which I learned about from James Meek’s once-hyped and now-forgotten Russian Revolution historical fiction of 2005, The People's Act of Love (I didn’t read Dostoevsky’s Demons until 2014 or so). The Skoptsy were officially claimed for queerness in a 2018 article—that is, six years after I wrote and one year after I published the book. You can tell I wasn't conscious of any such subtext during the composition because when I show leftist academics in the novel heaping high-theory rhetoric on the cult—which I intended as an #Occupy-era spoof of certain upper-class radical mooning over a fancied working class—it didn’t even occur to me to have the professoriate laud them as “queer,” as in this scene, set on a public bus, where a young scholar’s assessment of the phenomenon—in the first quoted paragraph—contrasts with an older man’s judgment in the hearing of my delirious heroine: 

“They’re the revolutionary multitude, all of the excluded, man as species, affect generalized, the persistence of life apart from consciousness, the sublime purity of the conatus against all territorializations. Immanent being without intent or control. They aren’t subjects. They’re post-humanity. What comes after the subject. The reign of love.”

Julia opened her feverish eyes in time to see that the old man had turned from the window and faced her again. He said, very quietly, through thin white lips, his eyes wide and wet, as if addressing only her, “Essenes. Desert Fathers. Bogomils. Albigenses. Fifth Monarchy Men. The rejection of this world.”

All these issues were on the table when I independently published the novel in 2017, if not when I wrote it five years before, but I trusted that my meaning—my sympathetic inquiry into various configurations of spirit and matter—was clear enough to prevent the giving of broad offense. I am no longer quite so certain, but then this conversation is not yet finished or final either. As my older relatives used to say of death, so my literary generation might say of cancellation: You’ve got to go sometime. And if I’m cancelled for having written a great novel, well, the gnostic God knows that I’m certainly in good company!

_____________________

[*] Eric Voeglin, Harold Bloom, Elaine Pagels, Victoria Nelson, Umberto Eco, John Gray, Alan Moore, Grant Morrison, Toni Morrison, etc.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Simpson is a Richmond-based singer and rapper who you may also know as Babe Simpson, one-fourth of the Tumblr-born rap collective Barf Troop. They dazed the internet back in the early 2010s with their uncensored, forward-thinking rhymes and aesthetics, and even got the attention of Drake. Though the collective has gone silent in recent years, Simpson has since cultivated her own steady following around her soft, and ruminative tunes. Her latest is 'Cherry Ice Cream Sundae,' a song about "treating ourselves with as much tenderness as we treat everyone else," she says, and is backed by a lush landscape of jazzy guitars and drums — a sound that could be considered a close sibling to the rap lullabies of Noname. Simpson's now sharing the song's peculiar video, which features a charming but eerie cast of marionette puppets. Over email, Simpson explains that she wrote the song after experiencing "a feeling that I’ve always been trying to put into words but I don’t think I was mature enough to be able to sing. I reached my breaking point where I was like, f*ck it, whatever happens, happens, and I’m gonna look on the bright side everywhere I can. I’m going to 'smile because I can.' I actually changed the original opening lyrics from 'The world is in the shitter' to 'Life is kind to who’s kind to it back.' The world has always been in the shitter, but that hasn’t made it any less special or sweet. I think that’s made me much more of a realist. I recorded it tipsy, upside down, hanging off my bed as a freestyle, and it felt so natural saying and listening to it back made me feel so proud." [via NYLON]

Earlier this week, Lana Del Rey revealed the artwork and tracklist for her new album Chemtrails Over The Country Club. Back in October, Del Rey shared the album’s lead single 'Let Me Love You Like A Woman.' It was the first song she shared from the album after postponing its planned September release. Now, she’s sharing the album’s second single and title track. She’s also announced that Chemtrails Over The Country Club will be out March 19. In a lengthy interview with BBC Radio 1 — during which she talked about the Trump insurrection and her album cover controversy — she mentioned that Jack Antonoff produced much of the album, minus 'Yosemite,' which was produced with Rick Nowels. Watch a music video for the album’s title track, directed by BRTHR, above. In a different kind of statement, prior to the release of the 'Chemtrails Over The Country Club' music video, Del Rey explained why she is wearing a cast in it: "When you see my second video for this album, don’t think that the fact I’m wearing a cast is symbolic for anything other than thinking I was still a pro figure skater. I wiped out on my beautiful skates before the video even began after a long day of figure eights and jumps in the twilight of the dezert. Anyways my fracture isn’t that bad kind of goes with my new bucket hat. Thanks to my beautiful family for my gifts." [via Stereogum]

Joining forces for the new uplifting track, G Flip and mxmtoon are sharing new empowerment anthem ‘Queen’, produced by Rostam Batmanglij. "'Queen' was written about the strong women around me, the queens that raised me and the queens I’ve met through my years,” G Flip explains. “My idea of a queen is not necessarily linked to gender; queens come in all forms and walks of life. To me a queen embodies power and strength; they embrace all they are fiercely yet gracefully. The song was written one sunny day in LA, I was chillin on Rostam’s lovely white couch and he turned around to me and said ‘how about we write a song about Queens’ and I replied with ‘F@!K yeah!’. I’m also super stoked to have mxmtoon on the track with me, she is an absolute queen. I first was introduced to her when I was trying to find ukulele chords to a Khalid song and found her cover on YouTube years ago. She makes awesome music and her voice has such a cruisy timbre to it so I was thrilled to have her jump on 'Queen' with me. She is also an avid croc lover and part of the LGBTQIA+ community, so obviously it just made sense!” mxmtoon adds, “So happy to be a part of ‘Queen’ with G! she and Rostam were such a joy to work with and so so much fun to collaborate with on creative as well. I’m so glad that it’s still possible to make art and music with someone even when they’re on the other side of the world, and I’m lucky that I got the opportunity to feature on G’s song. ‘Queen’ is a power anthem for any person, and I’m so excited for people to love it as much as we do!” [via DIY]

With her hotly-anticipated new album Magic Mirror out now, Pearl Charles gave us our latest teaser of what to expect earlier this week, sharing new glitzy bop ‘Only For Tonight’. “‘Only for Tonight’ tells the story of a currently bygone era of wild nights out on the town - the highs and lows of one night stands and the crashes of the morning after,” she explains. “The music video, directed by Bobbi Rich, leans into those excesses, paying a sparkly homage to the late-night musical television shows of the 70’s, from Soul Train to The Midnight Special, as well as the gauzy, Vaseline’d lens of ABBA’s music videos. With an added sprinkling of VHS special effects, you’re likely to feel like you’re watching a home-taped recording of a lost episode of Top of the Pops.” [via DIY]

Alt-pop trailblazer dodie has shared her new single 'Hate Myself' in full. Everything the songwriter touches seems to turn into melodic gold, with her debut album Build A Problem landing this Spring. Out on March 5, it's led by new single 'Hate Myself', which made its bow as Annie Mac's Hottest Record In The World. It's an apt title, with this instantly-viral moment offering an "inner monologue" that touches on some of dodie's inner-most feelings. The song depicts "someone who seems to find themselves in relationships of any kind with people who deal with their feelings internally - unfortunately resulting in assuming the issue is with them." dodie co-directed the video alongside Sammy Paul, shooting at the Cornish seaside village Polperro. The pair "excitedly landed on the silly idea of the training leading up to becoming a post-lady, and thoroughly enjoyed planning the many bizarre exercises she would have to perfect. Our excellent Art Director, Louis Grant, worked on bringing her home and training station to life. Though jogging on cliff tops in the rain, carrying a large sack and slipping in the mud was certainly cold and exhausting, I think I preferred it to slowly feeling sicker, licking stamps on a swaying boat by the Excel." [via Clash]

Berlin-based indie five-piece People Club are back with new single and video 'Francine', following on from their last release 'Lay Down Your Weapons', which focused on police brutality.  The new single 'Francine' tackles the topics of addiction and lovelessness. In the words of the band: "The song speaks from the voice of a lamenting partner whose lover (Francine) is helplessly addicted to drugs. Francine lost interest in her relationship with the narrator a long time ago. It's a song about commitment and how love can fade away leaving only wickedness behind."  Regarding the visuals, the band said "The 'Francine' video is a play on the old idiom of 'being your own worst enemy'. A phrase which quite beautifully captures the inner critic which we know so well, especially during the course of the pandemic - we've had to learn to each give ourselves a break. The video was shot in the depth of the harsh Berlin winter, in the depth of the pandemic." Director Felix Spitta added "I love the band and I love the different personalities. It is always heaps of fun working on creative output together. Riding through Berlin only with bikes and all the film equipment in the freezing cold almost felt like a masochistic idea from Saxon. It's inspiring to be surrounded by so many creative minds.”

Pale Waves are back with 'Easy', the third single to be shared from their highly-anticipated second album Who Am I?. Lead vocalist Heather Baron-Gracie describes the new track as "a song about how love can change your whole entire perspective on life itself. It’s saying ‘being in love with you is so easy, you finally make sense in my life because nothing did before'." The new single is accompanied by a James Slater-directed video that shows Baron-Gracie performing at a Tim Burton/medieval-style wedding in an abandoned church. Baron-Gracie adds, "I wore a wedding dress throughout and we shot the video in an old abandoned church. I’m really inspired by the gothic medieval aesthetic and at the time I was thinking of the video I was watching a lot of Tim Burton films whose creativity really inspires me." Pale Waves' second album will follow their 2018 debut LP My Mind Makes Noises. Baron-Gracie says of their upcoming album, "For me, music and art is for people not to feel so alone and isolated. I want to be that person my fans look up to and find comfort in." [via the Line Of Best Fit]

The official video for Zoe Wees’ new single, 'Girls Like Us,' is online now. Like the song, the clip sends a message of togetherness and solidarity to girls around the world who are feeling the pressures of society. Zoe Wees says, “It’s not always good to think about how you look to the rest of the world. It’s much more important to think about how you feel inside. It is not easy to call yourself beautiful but being confident helps you to accept and love yourself.” The 18-year-old Hamburg, Germany-based artist adds, “We’re walking through a world with blinded eyes. At the end of the day, we all go to bed without make-up with the ugliest clothes and wake up with the messiest hair on earth.”

Julien Baker has shared a new taste of her forthcoming album Little Oblivions by way of a new single ‘Hardline’. Julien says, “A few years ago I started collecting travel ephemera again with a loose idea of making a piece of art with it. I had been touring pretty consistently since 2015 and had been traveling so much that items like plane tickets and hotel keycards didn't have much novelty anymore. So I saved all my travel stuff and made a little collage of a house and a van out of it. I wanted to incorporate it into the record and when we were brainstorming ideas for videos we came across Joe Baughman and really liked his work so we reached out with the idea of making a stop-motion video that had similar aesthetic qualities as the house I built did. I don't know why I have the impulse to write songs or make tiny sculptures out of plane tickets. But here it is anyway: a bunch of things I've collected and carried with me that I've re-organized into a new shape.” The video for ‘Hardline’ was directed by Joe Baughman, who notes: “Man, even after having spent 600 hours immersed in ‘Hardline’ and having listened to it thousands of times, I am still moved by it. It was a fun and ambitious challenge creating something that could accompany such a compelling song. The style of the set design, inspired by a sculpture that Julien created, was especially fun to work in. I loved sifting through magazines, maps, and newspapers from the 60s and 70s and finding the right colors, shapes, and quotes to cover almost every surface in the video.”

Teenage Joans are staying true to their world and unveiling 'Something About Being Sixteen', a new single that's sure to cement their 2021 as victorious. It's the perfect successor to 'Three Leaf Clover' and a track that makes it two-for-two for Teenage Joans, further capturing the excitement and energy within Cahli and Tahlia as they trade catchy riffs and thriving choruses with the combo of light-heartedness and intimateness that seems to define Teenage Joans' work, and how they're able to look in at themselves (and out at the world around them) through a lens that keeps it fun and digestable. "'Something About Being Sixteen' is undoubtedly Teenage Joans' great take on the classic coming of age rock tune, generally closing our live sets with audiences singing along every time without fail," the duo say on the single. [via Pilerats]

Kate Hollowell took a risk going by the moniker Number One Popstar when she released her debut single 'Psycho.' However, Hollowell didn’t mind if that choice set her up for failure or not. She goes with the flow. Luckily, that mentality has advanced her even farther. Now, Number One Popstar releases her second single, 'I Hate Running.' New Year’s resolutions are, most of the times, created for the wrong reasons. It’s also no surprise that majority of people’s goals center around exercising and weight loss. 'I Hate Running', however, challenges that mindset, satirizing the toxic nature of exercise industry and diet culture. Hollowell said herself, “The song explores facing the hard, emotional work instead of the physical.  I really don’t enjoy running, and I wanted to troll the exercise industry and write an anti-motivational song.” In terms of sound, 'I Hate Running' shares similar vibes to her first single with its classic 80s pop of saturated synths. But, this time, there’s a hint of disco with the zealous psychedelic guitar and electric drums and keys. The interludes consist of a symbolic, robotic, and almost sinister snippet from a workout instructor. It all complements well with Hollowell’s escapist lyrics. Even though the lyrics say otherwise, the track’s sound might just spark that motivation to workout or dance, doing mindful movement that makes us feel good. Exercise should never feel like a punishment, and Number One Popstar is here to remind us. She makes us want to stick it to the exercise industry, proving to it that we will only work out for the right reasons. [via Earmilk]

Alt-pop riser Chloe Rodgers has shared her new video 'The Algea' in full. The Nottingham based talent sparkled in 2020 in spite of the pervasive gloom, releasing two startling singles. Her third release could be her best yet, with 'The Algea' hitting streaming services just before Christmas. The video captures those mid-winter chills, while providing a platform for Chloe to express herself. Constructed alongside creative director Kate Lomas, it was shot at Newstead Abbey in Nottingham. Chloe comments... "I wanted to use a music box in the video to represent being objectified and getting stuck in the same cycles, as that’s largely what the song is about. I wrote the song when I was 18, but didn’t add the verse at the end about claiming my power back until a couple of years later when I felt a bit stronger. We tried to reflect this in the video too with the Chloe in white sort of protecting the other Chloe of the past." Kate Lomas adds: "This was such a joy to watch come together, the video concept is based around the idea that Chloe is the character in a music box, she’s the performer that’s spinning round on an endless cycle for other people’s entertainment. The video tells the tale of Chloe definitely breaking this cycle and no longer playing this role." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has announced her ANTIHERO EP will be released on April 16 via Nettwerk Records. With the EP announcement, Deena shares the official music video for her latest single, 'ASTRONAUT,' the follow-up to two previously released videos for 'DEADALIVE' and 'MURDER'. Each of the five music videos for the forthcoming ANTIHERO EP will come together through bold-palette videos that transform into an antihero character “in a cyberpunk, anime, futuristic, graphic, almost sci-fi world,” says Deena. Deena adds, “as ‘ASTRONAUT’ delves into my anxiety, I wanted the film to reflect that in a simple way that helped portray how my anxiety can sometimes manifest - a contradiction between feeling lost in vast spaces and trapped in claustrophobic spaces. I had a specific idea in mind, which meant that I had to undergo stunt training with professionals and learn how to maneuver in a wire harness. Most of the video had to be shot in a single take because of the stunts' nature in safety preparation, time consumption, and impact on the body. I'm still recovering from the bruises, but it was all worth it, and the team was amazing in pulling it all together. I'm proud of this one as it is 3 minutes of my rawest vulnerability, visually interpreted. I'm also finally ready to share it.” 'ASTRONAUT' is the sound of Deena liberating herself from a lifelong battle with anxiety.  “It is a human trait. It’s how we survive in the wild,” she says. “We’re all wired as humans to be quite anxious.  As females more so, because we’re more susceptible to danger.”

Rising star Mulay shares the smoking visuals for her new single, ‘Antracyte’. It’s the culminating release in a three-part video series from the Berlin-based alternative R&B singer-songwriter/producer/artist, ahead of her highly anticipated EP, which comes out at the end of the month via Groenland Records. Mulay explains about the single, “'ANTRACYTE' is the intro and title track to my debut EP. It’s the soundtrack to the birth of a villain and captures the moment of complete honesty to yourself about the awareness of doing wrong by the ones you love while feeling the inability to turn around. It’s about the desire to taste forbidden fruits, to cross and explore what lies beyond the line and the self-empowering feeling of playing by your own rules defeating the fear of consequences and the power of moral concepts. 'ANTRACYTE' tells a story of contradicting emotions, a story of love, lust, pain and a longing for more. It’s about facing your own darkness and sins, about self-revelation, emancipation and about paying its price, resigning to your fate.”

Only a band like shallow pools could make a blast of 'ice water' sound refreshing and necessary in the dead of New England winter. But the Massachusetts indie-pop group is usually pushing against the current of what we’d normally expect, and now the quartet hits us with a dose of cold reality through their new single and video. 'ice water' is a vivid new single that confronts the mental health struggles brought on by quarantine and isolation, and even the shallow pools aesthetic has reflected this by shifting from bright glowing neons to a more subdued color palette of beiges and browns. Call it a sign of the times, and call 'ice water' the sound of now; upbeat and jovial on the surface, a comet of pop smarts and hooks, but with the darker shine that resides in our lives when we’re positioned away from the screens and digital scenes. As Glynnis Brennan sings “Every day’s the same and / There’s no breaking out / Like I’m stuck here / Going through the motions now” well, we feel that. shallow pools describe “ice water” as “a departure from the music we’ve made in the past, but it’s the perfect bridge between our old and new sound.” That is certainly the case, and 'ice water' continues to showcase the group as one of New England’s sharpest, following a string of 2020 singles that included pop standouts like 'Haunted' and 'Afterlight'. “We wrote the song with our friend and producer, Chris Curran, and learned a lot about the type of music we want to be making in the process,” the band adds. “The song is about the impact that the state of the world has had on our mental health, specifically in the last year. We’re excited to share it and hope that anyone who has had similar experiences will find some comfort in knowing that there are others who can relate.” [via Vanyaland]