#i have a few other clips saved from that stream ill might end up doing if i like how this one turned out :D

[narzissenkreuz-ordo]

teaching myself capcut and i just finished outlining a lil animatic im gonna try and make over the next few days :D

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

(Note: Bold Italic script indicates Nureyev speaking Brahmese) 

Chapter 5

“God Damnit Thief!  Pick up your damned coms when the bloody doctor calls!"

"Again, apologies Vespa, I-" he coughed weakly into his hand, tripoding over his knees.

"Do you know how many times I had to call you?  Do you?"  

Nureyev sighed "Afraid not-"

"Seven !  Seven goddamn times!  Thought you were dead !  Or Steel!  Or captured or whatever!  We're in enough crap as it is without you two adding to the pile!"

“Vespa, I-”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, Thief; I swear to god I’ll snap your scrawny neck!"

"I'm-" he caught himself mid apology, "Understood-"

"I haven't heard Steel's voice, where is he?"

"Juno's- sleeping." Which is what he himself had been doing up to the moment Vespa rang. Stupid- a rookie mistake-

"Oh?  And how sure are you of that thief?"

Nureyev wiped the sweat off of his face, "I'm sure-" it had been the first thing he checked when the beeping of the comms woke him.  Even from here he could see the frantic rise and fall of Juno's chest.  The lady wasn't doing well.  

"Completely."  He coughed harder into an elbow.

Vespa sniff on the other end of the line.  Plainly suspicious, but that was nothing new.

"Fine, now you're on, we can get back to business…."  There was a clatter outside, his head snapped towards it ".... temperature down, or it can cause…." and another- "gotta make sure he's in the recovery…" and another and confound it all Nureyev, focus!  He shook himself back to the conversation just in time for Vespa to say "Did you get that Thief?"

"Hmm?  I ugh-" he floundered.  No, no he had not gotten it, and was just about to say so when he heard voices-

Lord, not now, please not now-

"Thief?"

Nureyev limped to a window.  Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he could make out the security uniforms of Galactic Stars First Bank.  

No-

Anxiety spiked his chest, making him queasy- or perhaps he already was-

Juno was in danger.  That much, he was certain of.  To say nothing about himself.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping lady.  Even with his features pinched and weary, he was beautiful-  

And vulnerable-

Plans began to formulate in his mind.  His first impulse was to find some crevice to hide in, to disappear.  But even with Juno’s help, he only just managed to get him to the sofa last time-  If they were found- well, he didn’t want to find out what they’d do to him.  

“Thief?!”

He could lure the guards inside, dispatch them quickly and save his leg the trouble-  But no, that would be too messy.  To say nothing of Juno’s sensibilities, inviting guards into their hiding spot introduced more blind variables than he’d care to gamble with.

Which left luring them away- Sharp teeth worried away at his bottom lip.  The injury would make things- challenging.  But he didn’t have to be fast.  After all, it was a fool who thought the best getaway vehicle was the fastest-  

What he needed now was a strategy; and to know how many employees he’d have to contend with.  

“God Damnit Ransom, the hell-”

“Apologies Vespa, I need Rita.”

“What?!”

“Ha-How many guards, am I dealing with- Rita?” Nureyev grimaced, pressing his back tight to the apartment's tinker toy brickwork.  Rita’s voice was going fuzzy around the edges, as though muffled.

It had been harder than anticipated to pick his way past the patrolling guards, yet alone work his way out of the safe house.

“Two, maybe four in your sector Mista Ransom.”

“Which is it? ”

“Hugh?”

“Which is it?  The- er- two, or the four?” there was a throb of pain that made his breath hitch.  Along with that ever present burning, biting its way deep.  

“Not sure but- are- are you alright Mista Ransom?”

“I- am a tad worse for wear.  Which is why I’d like to resolve this matter quickly.”

“Ohhh, ohh right!  Well Rita can help with that!”

“Thank you Rita.  Now- which way to the two or four individuals?”

He allowed Rita to guide him through the quiet streets.  She informed him that a dome wide lockdown had been initiated while the intruders were at large.  Sure enough, when he tried a few doors in passing, they refused to yield under his touch.  The citizens took the lockdown seriously.  

Nureyev made sure to make plenty of noise. He needed a show if he wanted this plan to work.  What worried him was that he was only half acting as he stumbled his way over the cobbles on a stiff leg.  He allowed himself to knock into bins and topple items into cars.  The noise he raised wasn’t loud, per say, but it was conspicuous on the quiet streets.  

“Where are these guards Rita?”

“They’ll be coming up any minute Mista Ransom, you just keep your eyes Peeled!  Make a right up here-” she directed “Peeled, hugh, ever consider what a weird thing it is to say.  That you should keep your eyes peeled?   I mean you do that and your eyes ain't gonna be good no more, least of all you.  Oh!  But there was this one stream where the monster worked its way out of a beautiful man!  Which was such a waist but what do I know about streams?  And its eyes were doing this crazy-”

“Any- minute?” he was starting to have doubts about using his own injured self as bait. He filed that deep in his mind.

“What?  Oh!  Yeah!  You got some baddies commin’ up right behind you.”

“Behind- Are you sure?” he panted.  

“Yeah of course I’m sure Mista Ransom!”

A quick turn confirmed Rita’s intel.  He was indeed being followed.  

They shouted something at his back, and Nureyev picked up his pace to a skip-hop, while his pursuers broke into a run.   A plasma bolt shot past his ear, sending a jolt of adrenaline through.  In answer he flipped over several barrels.  They cascaded into the small space, messing the ally nicely.  That should slow them down some.  It had to.

There was no time to pay attention to the ache of his lungs or the fire coursing through his leg.  Even as each step pushed him that much closer to being physically ill.  

File it away, Damn you- just file it away-

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed forward.  Forcing himself to keep moving, to keep breathing, to keep-

He plowed headlong into an old chain link fence with enough force to knock him to the ground with a strangled cry.  The traitorous links rattled and clinked all the way up to their restraints.  As if to add insult to injury, they stretched maybe ten, fifteen feet in the air.  There wasn’t a hope of making it over before his acquaintances caught up.  

“Mista Ransom?!” Rita sounded scared, she’d even stopped typing.  “What happened?”

“There’s-” he coughed “There’s a- barrier- ” There was another word, a better word, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of it.  It was taking all his effort to push upright on shaking arms, threading his fingers into the wire mesh to haul himself to his feet.  

“A barrier?  Like a wall or a buildin’ or somethin?  None of that is showing up on my schema-”

“A fence- Is there another way round?”  He took a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry but, there isn’t anythin’ on the map.  Ya gotta get to the other side before ya have options.  Can’t you like, break through or somethin?”

Break through, of course, Nureyev could kick himself; it was so simple.  He extracted one of his plasma cutters from a pocket, heat humming through the blade.  In the end, it wasn’t even a good fence.  The blade made quick work of the links, slicing through them as one might margarine.  

Another blaster shot forced him through the cherry red ruin of a hole before it had a chance to cool.  He brought his arm up, shielding his face even as the sharp edges racked along his coat, hitting his leg- he hissed, nausea threatening to overtake him.  

“Mista Ransom?”

He scrambled to the other side, barely keeping upright.  

“Mista Ransom!  You’ve got more company comin’ straight at you!”

“What-” his voice cracked in exhaustion.  Through the gloom, he could just make out the second pair barreling down the narrow passage.  He could hear them barking orders at him now, probably instructing him to surrender or other such nonsense that he had no intention of following.  

“They’ve brought reinforcements!  They’re gonna’ block your escape roots!”

“Reinforcements?”

“There’s at least four more heading straight at you!”

Nureyev glanced back and spotted the first pair shoving through the debris.  Then that would make six-  Six on one, he didn’t like those odds.  A wrong step sent a jolt through him, his weakened leg nearly buckling under his weight sending him into a wall.  Again the world went fuzzy, blood rushing to his ears.

He wondered if the Carte Blanche really would come back for him if he’d got captured.  Something made him doubt it even as he shoved the ugly thought deep into a file.  

Think Nureyev.

Time, he needed time.  A had drifted to the modest arsenal on his chest.  There were a few smoke bombs he hadn’t touched, but the situation called for something more dire-

He plucked a pepper grenade from the clip, lobbing it over the fence with the practiced ease of one who’d spent hours on throwing knives.  Smoke tracked it’s flight through the air.  It struck the ground at the guard’s feet.  They yelled, scrambling back just as it erupted.  The choking fumes swallowed them in seconds.  

Nureyev was no longer paying mind to them, attention bent entirely at the remaining guards.  Four on one were more....manageable.  

He rushed the closest set, drawing a twin to his first blade wheeling them in tandem.  The man was no fighter, as soon as he got into their space, the man shrank back, his blaster forgotten.  

A tingling burn flushed across exposed skin making his heart plummet.  He’d made a mistake.  Nureyev hadn't accounted for the wind-

Spurred by the change in fortune, Nureyev dispatched the man quickly; maneuvering out of the way as he crumpled.  Life’s blood spilled over the cobbles soon obscured by smoke.

Smoke?  

Twisting and contorting, the smoke seemed to grow till it engulfed everything in its path.  Pouring down the cramped space.  The remaining guards tried to run, but were soon overtaken, same as the Thief.

Nureyev's throat closed against the onslaught.  He gagged and coughed over the very air, vision hopelessly obscured by tears.  The only good news was that he could hear his attackers do the same.  Panic began to fog his reason.  

He no longer noticed the burning of his skin or eyes, or the way his nose was running; no longer could feel the pain in his leg.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe .  The single thought spun round and round in his brain, desperately trying to figure a way around it.  He clung to the wall with every ounce of strength he possessed.  The coughing picked up even harder now till his chest crushed in like a deflated balloon.

Try as he will, his lungs would not expand.  There was simply no more air.

“Mista Ransom?” Rita, in the coms!  Rita who was still very much with him.  There was hope!  

Just then a hand clenched around a fistful of his hair, dragging Nureyev lower still.  He’d been found, even in a place like this, they’d still found him.  The employees of Galactic Stars First Bank were more like his creditors than Nureyev liked.  Even now she was growling at him in anger.  

Though he couldn’t understand the language, he knew she was asking questions.  Her breaths were short and forced yet still she managed to talk.  Had he not been in the grips of fear, he would have found her admirable.  

“Mista Ransom?!”

Through his bleary eyes, he could make out the cyan glow of a blaster pointed down under his nose.  She meant to shoot him, but was hesitating.  At any other time, he'd wonder why-  Instead he reached up to claw, to cling at her wrist, still with a grip on his knives.  She twisted and he bowed lower, leg quaking, his hand slipped and-

“Ah!” she squealed as his plasma blade bit into her arm, flinging  him back to a wall.  The impact miraculously forced air back into his lungs.  Though as soon as he got it, his body started to cough it back up.  Furiously he clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to hold it in.

It didn't work.

“Mista Ransom!” If Rita had sounded scared before, that was nothing compared to now.  Her voice was small and tentative in a way that would break any heart.  Even so, he latched onto her voice with everything he was worth.  

The light of the guard's weapon danced before him.  She may have been hurt, but she wasn’t down yet.  What’s worse was that she seemed to be calling for backup.  

The blade sang out of his fingers, digging itself into her thigh. This time she screamed and hacked, scrambling for the off switch while Nureyev made his escape.  It hadn't been where he'd been aiming, but close enough.  With any luck, she'd have trouble moving for a time.  

“R-ita-” he choked out, managing tiny gasps, every one a massive effort.

“What’s going on!  Have you been Gassed!!!!!” thank stars he would not have to explain.

“Y-yes-” he gave into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh-Okay, you need me to show you the way out!”

“Yes-” the fight had turned him around, making it impossible to tell which way to go.  He wanted to be free of the smoke as soon as possible.

“Can Do!  Oh!  This is just like one of those Spy streams like- well, never mind that right now.  Alright Mista Ransom, I’m gonna need you to move forwards about a hundred meters.” She instructed conspiratorially.  He obliged, thankful to leave the thinking to her.  Using the wall to keep him straight.  “Be careful when you reach the fork!” she cautioned “The passage on your left has a few baddies, the one on your right is clear!”  

On his right- he could just make out two voids stretching before him.  Stealing his resolve he propelled himself right and mercifully broke through the miasma.  He crashed into a dumpster, nearly running smack into the center of another set of guards.  

It had been the wrong way.  

There would be no time to recover, no time for rest.  Furiously he wiped his eyes and gulped down recycled air.  

Rita shrieked in his ear, “Not your right, my right!” but he had no choice but to tune her out.  

The fresh opponent rushed him, their partner charging their blaster.  Nureyev stumbled back towards the smoke, just managing to use his attacker’s momentum to spin them round into their partner.  Their partner roared, firing shots off at random as they fell.  Blaster spun out of their grip on impact.  A stray bolt savaged one of Nureyev’s coat pockets, scattering it’s contents on the stones.  Hopefully there wouldn’t have been anything important in there.  

Nureyev readjusted his knife grip and threw at the tangle of limbs.  One of the figures stilled.  He hobbled towards them as fast as he could, retrieving the blade.  He’d already lost one and that was one too many.  

It was a mistake.

Pain shot through his leg making him cry out.  He fell hard separated anew from his weapon.  He’d been struck down by the spare guard.  They spat words that were sure to be insults as they disentangled themselves from the motionless body.

Nureyev gasped, twisting away towards the fallen blaster.  It had landed some distance away, but one advantage of long limbs was reach-  The guard growled and caught his foot, drawing him backwards.  He kicked out and the hands clawed higher.  It seemed they both were trying for the same weapon.

"Let go- " Nureyev bit out attempting to dislodge the guard.

"Never, scum- " they shot back in perfect Brahmese.  Before that could sink in, fingers jammed into his bandages, into the wound-  Nureyev keened, paralyzed by the shock of it.  

First rule of thriving Pete, you can't afford to be loud.

Rita shrieked all the louder.  Nureyev was at once hot and cold and utterly overwhelmed..  He knew he was hurt, thank you, he knew it!  He could do without the constant reminders.  

The guard made use of their opportunity by clambering over Nureyev.  Hand planted on his spine, pushing him down.  The thief refused to let it be that easy; scanning for something, anything he could use-

There!

His pocket knife!  

Nureyev’s arm shot out, scooping up the tool and flicking it open.  He twisted, simultaneously throwing them off and swiping upwards.  The blade bit into cloth and flesh.  They reared back startled, leaving Nureyev to wriggle free.  On hands and knees he scrambled to the blaster.  

Nureyev may not have the skills of a certain lovely sharp shooter, but at a distance like this, he couldn't miss.  

The stunner went straight to their chest and all went quiet.  He folded over, resting his forehead on the damp of the grimy street, forcing down bile once more.

"Mista Ransom!!!  Oh Mista Ransom!  Are you there?  Please say you're there, cuz I'm not sure how I could face the boss if I…."

"Rita-"

"....got you blown up or somethin, cuz know I'd miss you oh so much but Boss- oh I couldn't imagine-"

"I'm- ha- I'm fine- Rita-" he tried again, louder this time.  His voice was thick and rough, entirely unlike the persona he’d been so careful to maintain around the crew.

There was a loud clatter from the other end and a sharp intake of breath.  It sounded as though Rita knocked something over "Mista Ransom!  You ought to feel ashamed!  Scaring a girl like that!  Don’t you know that-" she cut off abruptly “Ugh oh, Mista Ransom!  You gotta get out of there, stat!  There are reinforcements on the way and I don't think they are too happy!”

Nureyev groaned and thanked Rita.  He supposed it was a lucky thing that he was so averse to capture.  It had been a long time since cold stone had been so welcoming.  

“What are you waiting’ for Mista Ransom?”

“N-nothing- Rita.  Merely -becoming acquainted with the cobble work.” he murmured.  In truth, he was drained to his core.  His head was spinning, body aching, leg burning and he was just so- thirsty.  There was at least something he could do about the last one, but not for a while, and not without getting up.  The entire distraction had taken far more out of him than anticipated.  

“Mista Ransom, you know I don’t speak nothin but Solar-” she started, but he wasn’t listening.  

Distraction.  His mind snagged on the word.

That was right, he was luring Galactic Star’s First Bank away from Juno.  Juno, gorgeous, wonderful Juno who’d taken a poison dart for him, who needed him right now.  

Nureyev had to get back to him, no matter what.  

In the end, Nureyev had trusted Rita to guide him back to the safe house.  She’d insisted after he nearly ran into another set of guards.  He was too tired to fight.  More than once considering folding himself up into a corner and waiting for the excitement to die down.  Moving in the open like this- didn't sit well with him.  

It took a lot longer to return to the grubby street of the safe house, and longer still to check and recheck he hadn’t been followed or bugged.  

“Thank you again- Rita-”  Privately he vowed to do something nice for her if and when they’d return to the ship.

“Oh and Mista Ransom?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, alright?  Ya make Mista Steel real happy- and- and I want ya both back in one piece okay?”

Nureyev was taken aback for a moment, mind blanking over the words.  It was- touching, and he had no idea what to do with that.  

He cleared his throat.  “I will do everything in my power to make that happen.” and he meant it.  

[Special thanks to Scarlet_Trust who got me excited about this again.  Please, Please go over and read their wonderful works!]

[softgrungeprophet]

i love... how flash loves.......... (homoerotic) poetry (He’s Gay)

obviously we know about the strongest canon example of this specific thing which is “The Archaic Torso of Apollo” by Rainer Maria Rilke, which Flash quotes the final line of

We cannot know his legendary head with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso is still suffused with brilliance from inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could a smile run through the placid hips and thighs to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself, burst like a star: for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.

(and presumably other similarly gay-ass--i mean....devout--poems by Rilke) 

There’s also a quote from a letter by Ralph Waldo Emerson to his daughter, in the final issue of Remender’s Agent Venom run--Emerson’s poetry has a kind of... stilted style which I PERSONALLY am not a fan of and it is very different from Rilke, but hey, a gay football player can have varied tastes. But also, he didn’t exactly quote an Emerson poem...

I don’t care about Emerson anyway I’m here to talk about my poetry headcanons for Flash mostly in the context of fanfiction I GUESS.

Not just homoerotic. I know that’s how I started this post but my intent was just poetry in general.

Copy-pasting from my notes for a particular timeline:

An analysis based on literally like one poem:

Flash seems to have a preference for poetry that is mildly abstract and descriptive, somewhere between literal and figurative. The style itself seems variable though. Emerson cuts his lines fairly tightly and with a specific structure and rhyme (not always—"Teach me I am forgotten by the dead" has a looser style without rhyme) while Rilke's "Archaic Torso..." specifically flows through lines and is cut partway through sentences without any rhyming scheme. [note I didn’t go looking thru rilke’s other work for this] Emerson is still willing to break grammar in things like using "builded" instead of "built," even if his punctuation and clauses are usually much more contained than Rilke's stream-of-words broken clauses.

Though that could be era specific. I only skimmed.

But from there, a while ago, I ended up going through some poets both contemporary to Rilke (or thereabouts)

But like.

No question, Dylan Thomas.

And NOT just because of the poem to his dying father. Everyone knows that one. Do not go gently in that good night blah blah

He just has those vibes, that flow, you know????

This one in particular caught my eye the strongest.

“My hero bares his nerves” is I THINK about Jesus and also pretty homoerotic imo

My hero bares his nerves along my wrist That rules from wrist to shoulder, Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost, Leans on my mortal ruler,

The proud spine spurning turn and twist. And these poor nerves so wired to the skull Ache on the lovelorn paper I hug to love with my unruly scrawl That utters all love hunger And tells the page the empty ill.

My hero bares my side and sees his heart Tread, like a naked Venus, The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait; Stripping my loin of promise, He promises a secret heat.

He holds the wire from the box of nerves Praising the mortal error Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves, And the hunger's emperor; He pulls the chain, the cistern moves.

anyway, spider-man

But also here are some selected small snips from other Dylan Thomas poems: (with links so you can go read the whole ones if you like)

"Our eunuch dreams"

This is the world; the lying likeness of Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move Loving and being loth; The dream that kicks the buried from their sack And lets their trash be honoured as the quick. This is the world. Have faith.

"I see the boys of summer"

I am the man your father was. We are the sons of flint and pitch. O see the poles are kissing as they cross.

like i said, he’s got vibes, and judging by the One (1) poem Flash has ever quoted, it’s vibes that work for him.

anyway onward

Kinda in line with how clipped Emerson's poetry is (even though flash only quoted a letter and not a poem), I wouldn't be surprised if Flash liked Emily Dickinson—and she's skilled; her poems are easy to read and flow well. Emerson in comparison is sometimes hard to read.

At least for me.

Maybe I just like Emily Dickinson.

But listen.

Easy to read and depressed (and sometimes kinda gay but shhh) is a good choice for Flash.

I don’t really have a good specific example--she wrote a pretty sizeable chunk of work after all--but I think I like this one--

“I measure every grief I meet (561)”

(this is only a section of it)

The Grieved – are many – I am told –   There is the various Cause –   Death – is but one – and comes but once –   And only nails the eyes –  

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –   A sort they call "Despair" –   There's Banishment from native Eyes – In sight of Native Air –  

And though I may not guess the kind –   Correctly – yet to me A piercing Comfort it affords In passing Calvary –  

To note the fashions – of the Cross –   And how they're mostly worn –   Still fascinated to presume That Some – are like my own –

The last part in particular.... I think fits.

Some slightly more modern poets (ranging from mid century to like, actually contemporary) that would work well are I think

William Meredith

“Starlight”

Going abruptly into a starry night It is ignorance we blink from, dark, unhoused; There is a gaze of animal delight Before the human vision. Then, aroused To nebulous danger, we may look for easy stars, Orion and the Dipper; but they are not ours,

These learned fields. Dark and ignorant, Unable to see here what our forebears saw, We keep some fear of random firmament Vestigial in us. And we think, Ah, If I had lived then, when these stories were made up, I Could have found more likely pictures in haphazard sky.

But this is not so. Indeed, we have proved fools When it comes to myths and images. A few Old bestiaries, pantheons and tools Translated to the heavens years ago— Scales and hunter, goat and horologe—are all That save us when, time and again, our systems fall.

And what would we do, given a fresh sky And our dearth of image? Our fears, our few beliefs Do not have shapes. They are like that astral way We have called milky, vague stars and star-reefs That were shapeless even to the fecund eye of myth— Surely these are no forms to start a zodiac with.

To keep the sky free of luxurious shapes Is an occupation for most of us, the mind Free of luxurious thoughts. If we choose to escape, What venial constellations will unwind Around a point of light, and then cannot be found Another night or by another man or from other ground.

As for me, I would find faces there, Or perhaps one face I have long taken for guide; Far-fetched, maybe, like Cygnus, but as fair, And a constellation anyone could read Once it was pointed out; an enlightenment of night, The way the pronoun you will turn dark verses bright.

And I think...

Marilyn Hacker is like a LOT more modern (still alive!) but I can also see some version of Flash (in college) curious and wondering about things finding a poet like her and being drawn to her flow and the casual feeling. I believe.... she is a lesbian and was married to a gay guy.

“On Marriage”

Epithalamion? Not too long back I was being ironic about “wives.” It’s very well to say, creation thrives on contradiction, but that’s a fast track shifted precipitately into. Tacky, some might say, and look mildly appalled. On the whole, it’s one I’m likely to be called on. Explain yourself or face the music, Hack. No law books frame terms of this covenant. It’s choice that’s asymptotic to a goal, which means that we must choose, and choose, and choose momently, daily. This moment my whole trajectory’s toward you, and it’s not losing momentum. Call it anything we want.

I like this one

Aside from those I think you could probably get into things like Elizabeth Bishop or Jack Spicer...

Dylan Thomas is my strongest choice though, out of all of the above.

[swordsandrayguns]

Riker’s Beard And Family Time: Looking Back At Star Trek: TNG

I write science fiction and fantasy novels… so I am no stranger to things dubbed “nerdy.” The last few months, though, I have been doing something that pushes the boundaries of nerdy even for me. I’m watching all the Star Trek properties in the order of their release. Yup, an epic binge watch covering over five decades of television series, cartoons and motion pictures. Look, I can try to explain and rationalize this a couple ways. Truth is, I travel a great deal and have to fill the time I spent in airports and on planes (preferably with things I can download as oppose to stream). I am also, as an author, studying some of the great examples of “universe building” and epic story arcs. Still nerdy, though; I admit it.

Obviously, I started with the original series and jumped into the animated series. I timed this all so my viewing of Star Trek: The Motion Picture coincided with the the special 40th anniversary showings in theaters. I followed through the next couple of movies into The Next Generation, alternating in movies and even the original series pilot The Cage (which was originally made available to the public as a pay per view offering between the first and second seasons of The Next Generation) as they fell in the original release timeline. I am getting to the end of the fifth season of Next Generation now and very much looking forward to alternating between episodes of The Next Generation, Deep Space 9 and even the occasional film in the near future.

Just in case you are wondering, I am pretty dedicated to sticking to the timeline but I am not strictly adhering to it. As I find myself, for example, in a hotel with channels such as BBC America or the Heroes and Icons channel I will only turn on episodes that have already showed up in my series overview… so no DS9, Voyager or Enterprise (yet) but the adventures of Kirk and company are fair game, as are Next Generation episodes up to season five. On the other hand, I am still watching Discovery’s Short Treks as they come out and I am definitely watching Picard as soon as I get a chance (meaning on my big screen at home instead of streaming it on my laptop over shaky hotel wifi). 

Even though I have not finished the complete rewatch, I find that I already have some new thoughts and ideas about I have seen so far starting with Riker’s beard.

Star Trek The Next Generation has generated a basketful of memes from “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” to “I am not a merry man” but undeniably the greatest is “Riker’s beard.” Just as the Internet has given us “jumping the shark,” the phrase to mark when a show is never quite as good again named for a really stupid moment when Fonzie was in Hawaii, it gave us “Riker’s beard” to mark the opposite. To this day, I know people that will immediately turn off an episode of The Next Generation if Jonathan Frakes turns up clean shaven (or if Wesley is in it, but that is a whole different story and, honestly, my harsh view of Wesley softened a bit with this re-watch). My first revelation from my Next Generation binge is that while season two, when the beard shows up, is better than season one, it is not when Next Generation really hits its stride.

First of all, let me defend season one of Star Trek The Next Generation. Twenty one years after the premiere of Star Trek, after three seasons of a pioneering science fiction drama, a year of the animated series and four feature films, Star Trek The Next Generation had to take up the incredibly difficult challenge of continuing one of the world’s beloved stories without a single character from the original series. Even more difficult, the real world had changed. Where the original Star Trek was making a statement by having a Russian, an Asian and an African woman on the bridge The Next Generation would not have made any statements with this type of casting. After all, when Picard met his crew and first face Q at Farpoint the biggest show on television focused on the an upper middle class African American family, something that was absolutely unthinkable when Kirk boldly set forth with his crew. 

The first season of Star Trek The Next Generation not only introduced Q, the Ferengi and Data’s not so lovable android brother Lore it killed a main character. Star Trek The Next Generation took a major step that not only the original series never tackled but most shows avoid. Sure, other shows tease it and even then it was usually on a season ending cliffhanger. Even the original series backed away from the only death of a major character they ever portrayed with an entire movie dedicated to reversing it. Star Trek The Next Generation killed Tasha Yar completely out of the blue with three episodes left in the first season. This incredibly bold move cast a shadow on the entire series, adding a real threat to future episodes. 

Is season one perfect? Oh, no. Not at all. Not even close, but like I already mentioned it had an amazingly difficult challenge facing it. The fans were expecting… well, everything. Next Generation was trying to stay true to the essence of Star Trek while making itself something new. They put families on the Enterprise to emphasize it was a vehicle of exploration, not a military ship. They made sure there was not a Vulcan to be found and put the odd man in a kilt wandering the hallways. They put a Klingon on the bridge! But then they had to deal with it all.

Season two was better. For one thing, the anticipation and the expectations were gone. The show made it through the first season and when it came back with its second season it was coming back as Star Trek The Next Generation not “the new Star Trek.” Ironically, due to a writers’ strike, season two actually started off with a script recycled from the ill-fated Star Trek: Phase II series. In addition to the first officer’s facial hair, the second season brought Whoopi Goldberg on board as the ship’s bartender and saw Diana Muldaur (in her third Star Trek universe role as Dr. Pulaski) taking over the sick bay from Dr. Crusher. Geordi La Forge also migrated from the bridge to take over engineering. It was always a bit odd, somehow, in season one to not have the chief engineer as a major character, if only because the chief engineer would seem to play as an important of a role in the operations of the ship as, say, the ship’s counselor or a teenager doing his after school work study program as an acting ensign.

While season two was an improvement, it had its issues. Dr. Pulaski, playing a role meant, no doubt, to help humanize Data, came across as abrasive and (in my opinion) mean spirited. Gates McFadden had been fired, apparently because the head writer did not like her, but Gene Roddenberry resisted killing her character so Dr. Beverly Crusher merely transferred off the ship. When the head writer left the popular character of Dr. Crusher returned in season three. Whoopi Goldberg, although an interesting character, was the ship’s civilian bartender which is just kind of weird. Did the ship have a food court, too? The season was also shortened, because of the aforementioned writers’ strike, and it actually ended with (of all things) a clip show. A clip show!

As a final defense of season two, it did introduce the Borg, one of greatest science fiction villain races of all times. But was it really that much better than season one? Well, season two saw five episodes get a total of six Emmy nominations and won two (both technical Emmy awards related to the sound department). Season one’s premiere was the first television episode to be nominated for a Hugo Award in 15 years. Another season one episode was the first syndicated television episode to win a Peabody Award and six episodes gathered a total of seven Emmy nominations, winning three (for makeup, costume design and sound editing). If you place your faith in the numbers, it seems season one might have actually been better (at least if you go by its awards).

So by now, if I may be so bold as to make a prediction, you are probably thinking “This guy has put way too much thought into Star Trek The Next Generation” and “Okay, so if season two is not when The Next Generation gets great, when is it?” First, I said as an author I am studying Star Trek so cut me some slack. Second, I am glad you asked.

Star Trek The Next Generation, in my opinion, really hit its stride is the fourth season. Season four swept onto screens with the second part of season finale cliffhanger The Best Of Both Worlds. The Federation was facing the awesome might of the Borg and the crew of the Enterprise was desperately trying to save Picard, who had been taken and turned into Borg mouthpiece Locutus, so the season started with big action and drama. This quickly led to a series of episodes focusing on character relationships, particularly family relationships. 

After he is rescued, Picard is left a broken man and returns to his family’s vineyard in France. Although there had been several stories about Picard’s history, this was the first to address his family and his entry into Star Fleet. Data’s Day not only explored how the android navigated through his duties and relationships, it introduced Chief O’Brien’s new wife Keiko. The O’Briens are the focus in the very next episode, showing not only the natural difficulties they were having adjusting to their new life as a married couple but also O’Brien’s past Star Fleet career and the psychological wounds left by his service in the war with Cardassia. To me, Riker’s beard does not signify when Star Trek The Next Generation really gets good, it is when Keiko O’Brien appears.

Family was a major theme of the fourth season, as Worf discovered he was a father and worked to regain his family’s honor in the eyes of fellow Klingons. Luxanna Troi re-appeared as did the ghost of Tasha Yar when the crew encountered her sister. Data’s brother also made another appearance, as did Data’s creator. Data also grew a great deal, even being shown to try out a romantic relationship with another crew member. The true strength of Star Trek The Next Generation, as of season four, was that it was well established enough as a series to feature stories based on human relationships instead of action or the “alien of the week.”

It should also be noted that season four also brought more episodes which were a part of longer storylines, such as Worf’s dishonor and the political intrigues of the Klingon Empire. There were also many returning minor characters and new characters being set up for multiple appearances. It is only after three seasons Star Trek The Next Generation finally had established enough of its own universe for this to happen. Also, though, by season four plans were in motion for a second live action Star Trek series, one to run concurrently with Next Generation. It could have been that the introduction of multi-episode storylines were a result of the producers consciously attempting to expand the Star Trek universe while starting to differentiate Next Generation from the upcoming Deep Space Nine.

Ironically, season four also marks Star Trek The Next Generation outlasting its predecessor in terms of seasons on the air. While this did not actually influence the formation of my opinion season four is when Next Generation really gets good, it does really make me wonder what Star Trek may have become if it had a season four.

[writinginstardust]

Love Unspoken

Pairing: Nik Malikov x reader

Warnings: mild violence, lots of swearing (but you should expect that from me and these kids by now)

A/N: ...this was meant to be fluff...seriously, i meant to write fluff but this happened instead. i mean it’s cute and kinda fluffy at the end but like it’s kinda angsty as well so...

Word Count: 1861

*

“Shit. Fuck. You motherfucking bastard! You’re gonna die, asshole!” I shouted at the Bei-Tech goon around the corner. He’d unloaded a full clip trying to shoot me and quite frankly, that’s just rude.

“Err, (Y/N), you alright down there?” Nik called down from the vent nearby.

“Just peachy Nik, you wanna come down and help me deal with this fucker?”

“Help you how? You’ve got my gun.”

“Okay, good point. Give me a second and it’ll be clear for you to come down.” I took a deep breath and darted out of my cover, letting off shot after shot at the man down the hall until he finally fell, groaning out curses at me. “See, this is why you don’t underestimate small teenage girls,” I grinned as I walked towards him, intending to steal his gun and tie him up out of the way. Problem was, I was overconfident. The goon was trained well and had held onto his gun as he fell. Something I didn’t notice until I went to kneel beside him and take it.

An ear-splitting bang blasted through my ears and I let out a loud curse, clutching my side which was now spilling blood alarmingly.

“You bastard,” I groaned and kicked the gun out of his hand, “you absolute bastard!” With one hand I put pressure on the gunshot wound in my side and with the other I knocked out the man on the floor to neutralise the threat. Walking back down the hall, I grabbed his gun from where I’d kicked it and yelled at Nik to come down. A loud thump came from around the corner and then Nik wandered into view looking tired and dirty.

“Well you look like hell.”

“You don’t look great either Nik.” I smirked at him as I walked over and pulled him into a hug. All joking aside, I was glad to see him unharmed after hearing what had happened to the other House of Knives members. When I’d heard about the incident my first thought had been him, the thought of him dead by Bei-Tech’s hands had left me feeling physically ill. We weren’t together exactly but there was something unspoken between us. I loved him and he loved me, I knew that, but there was a distance and a line neither of us had gathered the courage to cross yet. His arms snaked around my waist and he squeezed me tighter to him, causing me to let out a gasp of pain. He pulled back immediately, a look of concern on his face.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

I sighed, “okay, don’t be alarmed, but I may or may not have gotten shot.”

“Don’t be alarmed!? DON’T BE FUCKING ALARMED!? (Y/N) WHAT THE HELL!?” He looked down to where blood was soaking through my shirt and his frown deepened. Kneeling down before me, he pulled up the hem to expose the wound and I heard him suck in a breath. His hand reached round me and ran along my back to feel for an exit wound. It came back clean of blood, the bullet hadn’t gone through.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Well shit, I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. And I wouldn’t say either scenario could be called good. You got fucking shot (Y/N)! Nothing about this situation is good!” His voice was laced with worry and I could see he was trying not to let his internal panic show. He was doing a poor job at it.

“Hey, calm down,” I knelt down with him and brought both my hands to his cheeks, locking my gaze on his, “I’m fine. As far as I can tell, it didn’t hit anything important. I’ll be okay, I promise. We need to get moving.”

“No. (Y/N), you need to hide somewhere until this is over, you’re injured, you can’t fight these guys!”

“I’m not hiding while you risk your life. We’re doing this together. Besides,” I let a smirk slip onto my face, “I’m a much better shot.”

Nik knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t be talked out of this so, while he continued to fix me with a disapproving look, he begrudgingly agreed to let me come with him. He stood, reaching out to help pull me to my feet, and then we both set off to meet up with Hanna. Along the way Nik found something to cover my wound and stanch the flow of blood. It wasn’t an ideal solution but it would suffice for now.

It took a while and we had to take to the vents a few times, but eventually we made it. Dropping down into the room, Nik raised his arms to help me down – my wound inhibiting my movement enough that I couldn’t get out on my own. Hanna arrived a few minutes later and started fussing as soon as she saw my bloody shirt.

“Nik, what the hell? You let her get shot!”

“Yeah Nik, how could you let this happen?” I said in mock offence, “I thought you loved me.” I clutched my hand to my heart dramatically and willed tears to form in my eyes. He glared at us both.

“How is this my fault?”

“Because when things go wrong, it’s almost always you.”

“You know what? I hate you both.”

“Good one Nik, you love us.” Hanna grinned over her shoulder before turning back to me and checking out my injury which had mercifully stopped bleeding. “Is the bullet still in there?”

“Yeah, is that bad?”

“Well it sure isn’t great (Y/N/N), what happened?” She properly redressed the wound while I told her the story. “Damn, what a bastard. That should be okay for now, we’ll have to find someone to get the bullet out once we’ve dealt with this. Now, shall we get on with it?”

*

“NIK!” tears were streaming down my face as I ran towards him, well, tried to. My body wasn’t exactly cooperating after the exhausting fight with Kali and the cracked ribs, broken ankle, and new bullet wound in my shoulder certainly didn’t help. But I struggled against the pain anyway and finally reached Nik, falling into his outstretched arms and sobbing into his chest.

He held me close and I could feel his own tears soaking into my shirt, his body shaking as he wept. I didn’t know exactly what had gone down in the other universe but I guessed it couldn’t have been good. From his unbreakable hold on me, I assumed something had happened to me like what had happened to him here. Thinking about that, the moment he’d been shot, the moment the light had died in his eyes, only made me cry harder. He’d sacrificed himself for Hannah and me, but he didn’t realise that in saving me he’d also destroyed me.

Pulling away, I held is face in my hands and just looked at him, reminding myself he was real and he was here and he was alive. All things I couldn’t believe after what I’d seen. He’d stopped crying but his eyes were still glassy and other than a few scratches he seemed unscathed. I’d never believed in a higher power, but with him finally standing before me again I sent up a silent thank you to anyone who might be listening, anyone who might have helped keep him safe and bring him back to me.

I wanted to kiss him and I wanted to slap him. I wanted to hold him and never let him go again. I’d had a glimpse of life without him and it was something I’d do anything to prevent becoming my permanent reality. He didn’t give me a chance to decide which impulse to follow as he pulled my face to his and connected our lips in a deep and desperate kiss. Into it he poured all his pent-up emotions, told me everything words couldn’t explain, let me know that I was loved and he’d never leave me again. He left me gasping for breath and desperate for more.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered against my lips, “I know I never said it before and I should have, fuck, I should have told you every day…”

“I love you too. And you never had to say it, I always knew. You showed me a thousand times daily that you loved me. In every quiet moment, in every small act of kindness, in every comforting touch, you let me know how you felt. It’s something I’ve never doubted. Maybe you never said the words, but don’t think for a second you never told me you loved me.”

As I spoke I saw fresh tears start to slide down his cheeks and I used my thumbs to wipe them away. He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to my palm, the gesture making my heart flutter wildly in my chest.

“I still should have said it. It was the one thing I regretted most when you…when I saw…when I realised I’d never get the chance to tell you.” He swallowed, visibly trying to push the memory out of his mind. “I was always too much of a coward to say it, I never felt I was worthy of loving you or you loving me back. (Y/N), you deserve better than me, I’ve always known that, but I’ve loved you anyway and I’m thankful every day that I have you in my life. When it happened, I realised that it never mattered if I thought I was worthy of your love. I should have told you, because if I was lucky enough to be loved by you, I should have done everything to make sure you felt loved in return.”

Now it was my turn to cry again.

“But you did. Stars, you always made me feel loved, made me feel like I was the most important person in the galaxy. I’ve never needed declarations of love because every second I spent with you, you made sure I knew. And don’t you ever say you’re not worthy of me. You’re the most amazing and caring person I’ve ever known and you deserve every bit of love and happiness the universe can offer. I can’t give you all that, but as long as you’ll let me I’ll give you all the love I have to offer.”

Instead of saying anything else, Nik pulled me into another passionate kiss. This one was calmer and more tender than our previous one but there was no less love poured into it. Our tears mixed together as we kissed like we were the only two people left in the universe, like we could erase all the horrors we’d been through if we just stayed like this. The stars could burn out and the universe collapse round us as we kissed and we’d never notice, too wrapped up in each other for anything else to matter. This was where we were meant to be. We both knew it in the furthest reaches of our souls. Now we’d found where we belonged, neither of us would let go of it for anything.

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A sharp knock at the door made Serena jerk the blade up instead of to the side, giving the new cut a ragged end. Oh well. It still had the desired effect.

Griffin coughed, choking on the pain. A fresh stream of blood flowed over his abdomen, adding its richness to Serena’s masterpiece. She smirked, straightening out of a crouch, and ran her fingertip through the tacky mess.

Another knock sounded, this time more insistent.

Growling, Serena strode to the door, wrenching it open.

“What?” She barked.

Nicholas grabbed her by the arm, yanking her out of the room and slamming the door closed behind her.

Talking over her vulgar protests, he snapped, “We have a problem. Nikki and the others are-”

“Shhh,” Serena hissed, grabbing him by the bicep and forcing him down the hall.

“What?”

“Keep your voice down,” she said. “He’ll hear you.”

Nicholas scoffed. “So?”

“I told him no one knew where he was.”

“Why did you do that?”

Serena rolled her eyes, sighing. “It’s called psychological torture, Nicholas. Ever hear of despair? It’ll break a man faster than any weapon could.” Crossing her arms, she continued. “Now, what is the problem with the Hunters?”

Nicholas glared at her. “They’re here.”

“That was the whole point, Nicholas. To use Griffin as bait to lure them here so they’d-”

“You misunderstand,” Nicholas cut her off. “They’re not here to wage war. They’re upstairs negotiating. A Blood Pact. With Alexander.”

Serena blinked, cold terror filling her chest cavity. “But-”

“Exactly.”

Their scheme was unraveling in their hands. It made Serena feel ill.

Nicholas leaned into her space. “So how are we going to talk ourselves out of this one?”

She didn’t know. She couldn’t come up with a new plan. She could always come up with a new plan. It was her constant way of survival, and now her skill was failing her.

Nicholas paced away from her, scratching his jaw in thought. “We stick together,” he said finally. “If Alexander asks, which, let’s face it, we know he will, we say it was our own decision. We tell him what we had expected to happen, but leave out the tiny details about his own fate, and tell him we still stand by that decision.”

“He won’t like it.”

“So?” Nicholas whirled around, facing her. “He doesn’t get a say in the matter. He can’t control us, Serena, not anymore. It’s two against one now, and the odds are finally in our favor.” Reaching for her, Nicholas murmured, “We end this, together.”

Serena swallowed, forcing her quaking body to still. Focusing on the sensation of Nicholas’ fingers tracing a circle against her wrist, she nodded.

“Together.”

* * *

Alexander lifted an eyebrow at the handgun still pointed squarely at his chest. “While I appreciate the sincere motives behind this, might I suggest you lower your weapon? There’s really no need…”

“I beg to differ,” Nikki told him.

“Your arm must be getting tired.”

“Not really. The benefits of being young.” She smirked.

Alexander narrowed his gaze on her. Lowering his voice, he said, “But we’re both aware of just how stressful your day has been so far. All that running around… and your unfortunate visit to the hospital- both times…” The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. “That kind of thing takes its toll.”

Before Nikki could respond, the door swung open and more people strode in. She kept her eyes on Alexander.

“Well, doesn’t this look like a party,” a man said, tone curiously gleeful.

“Nicholas,” Alexander greeted. “Serena.”

Lava erupted in Nikki’s core, threatening to turn her into a raging force of destruction. Every nerve ending screamed to turn around, to pump the entire clip into Serena’s chest until she was nothing but ash. For the first time since entering the room, Nikki’s hand trembled. But it wasn’t from fatigue.

Alexander’s stare flicked back to Nikki and she saw the minute widening of his eyes as he watched her. Her irises had changed, glowing bright green-gold in her reflection in the window.

Clearing his throat, Alexander motioned to Nikki. “I’d like to introduce you to Miss Anderson.”

Nicholas circled around to the left corner of the desk, leaning his hip into the wood. “It would seem she doesn’t like you very much, Rex,” he said, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

“Currently I don’t believe she’s fond of any of us,” Alexander said, still staring up at Nikki. “Miss Anderson, would you allow me to converse with my colleagues for a moment?”

For a beat Nikki hesitated, but finally relented, taking a step back from the desk. “Go ahead. We’re not going anywhere.”

Alexander gave her a tight smile before standing. Nodding towards the door as several hulking guards dressed in black entered he said, “We’ll be as expedient as possible.”

The new additions posted themselves at intervals around the room, encircling the three Hunters.

As Alexander started around his desk, Nikki caught his eye. “Leave the door open.”

He bowed his head, saying, “Of course,” before leading the other two out into the corridor with him.

Boz was the first to move towards her. “Nikki, no,” he whispered, reaching for her arm. “Don’t do this.”

“Boz…”

“No. No, there has to be something else, there has to be another way-”

“There isn’t,” she said. “Trust me.”

“So this was your big plan?” His brown eyes darkened.

“I told you I needed you to back my play…”

“But this? This is practically assisted suicide,” he snapped.

Lisa stepped forward, close to Boz’s left shoulder. “Boz.” She tugged at his arm, shaking her head at him.

Outrage etched Boz’s features. “You can’t seriously be saying you’re okay with this.”

“No, but…” Lisa glanced at Nikki. “She’s doing this for Griffin.”

Boz gaped. “Griffin would never want this,” he told her, close to yelling.

Nikki’s stomach twisted. “Boz,” she whispered. “We all know what those tests said…what Amsterdam said. We all know what’s in store for me.” The backs of her eyes stung as she stared at him. “At least this way you get your best friend back.”

Boz dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. “This isn’t right,” he muttered. “This isn’t what we do.”

“This isn’t what you do,” Nikki said. “But I’m a Queen, remember? And Queens do what’s best for their people.”

* * *

Alexander folded his arms, glaring between Nicholas and Serena. “It’s been brought to my attention that Griffin O’Connor has been enjoying my hospitality. Would one of you care to explain why I found out this fact from them?” He jerked his head over his shoulder at the huddled group of Hunters.

Nicholas shifted forward, eyes darting to Serena, his gaze predatory in a way Alexander hadn’t witnessed in decades. He opened his mouth to speak, but Serena beat him to it.

“I brought him here,” she said, looking to Alexander. “For you.”

For barely the length of a rabbit’s heartbeat, Nicholas’ expression was murderous. It was such an abrupt change it was palpable, the air around him engulfed in a backdraft of heat. But before anyone was incinerated, it was gone, and he was rocking back on his heels, glancing up at the ceiling tiles as if they were the most interesting part of the building.

Alexander frowned. “Is that so?”

Delicate features pulled tight with contrition, Serena took half a step closer. “I thought… having the Hunter King at your disposal would be… beneficial.”

He studied her a moment, sifting through the layers of motives, both perceived and real. Making an ascending noise at the back of his throat, he nodded once.

“Hm. Nicholas?”

He twitched, pulling his attention away from the fascinating white painted walls. “What?” He blinked.

“Did you know about this?”

“Me?” Nicholas shook his head with exaggerated movements. “No, no. I was… busy.”

“Busy,” Alexander repeated, deadpan.

“Mm-hm. Busy. With important…” he curled a hand in the air. “Things.”

A muscle in Alexander’s jaw ticked. “I see.”

The shit-eating grin Nicholas gives him is the most absurd thing Alexander has ever seen. He wants to rip it off his face with his bare hands and staple it to a wall.

Serena’s wide blue eyes met his, and briefly Alexander remembered the first time he’d seen those eyes turn white and beautiful fangs elongate over pale pink lips.

“Well Serena, it would seem you’re improving on your subtlety,” he told her, and a faint, pleased smile curved across her face.

“They’re here to offer a Pact, right?” Nicholas interjected, trampling over the rules of proper conversation.

“Yes.”

Nicholas eyed him. “Well… what are you going to say?”

It was Alexander’s turn to grin. Striding back through the doorway to his office, he felt Nicholas and Serena hurry to follow. With Nikki’s burning gaze on him, he went to stand behind his desk.

“Miss Anderson, would you care to repeat your offer again? Simply to clarify,” he said.

“My life for Griffin O’Connor’s,” she said, voice firm. “And I have a few stipulations.”

Alexander regarded her with a glint of something close to respect in his eyes. “Which are?”

“In the tradition of Blood Pacts, once one life has been exchanged for another, the person saved can never again be a target for any aligned Vampires. I’m amending that.” She leveled her stare on him. “Not only will my life be given for Griffin, but for all other Hunters under his command.”

Nicholas’ head swiveled around so quickly she could hear his vertebrae crack. “What?”

She continued. “And once they’re out of the building safely, you’ll give them twenty-four hours to leave the city and make it out of your territory. And you’ll never go after them again.”

“That’s a very steep price for such an exchange,” Alexander commented. “What makes you think I’ll take this deal?”

“You know what I am-”

“And I know you’re dying.”

“I still have a few weeks left,” Nikki said, locking eyes with him. “Which is more than enough time for me to burn your empire to the ground.”

Lethal heat in her tone cracked the words into a growl that reverberated around them. What made it more satisfying was the hesitation in Alexander’s stare. He knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Training his expression, Alexander nodded. “Alright, Miss Anderson,” he said. “I accept your Blood Pact.”

The breath Nikki had been holding escaped through her lips.

“I want to see him,” she said, maintaining her composure.

“Of course.” Glancing to his right, Alexander said, “Serena, please escort Miss Anderson to where O’Connor is being held. And give them enough time to say goodbye.” He held Nikki’s stare for emphasis.

Seething but compliant, Serena jerked her head and started for the door. Nikki turned, passing her gun off to Lisa.

“Nikki-” she started, voice breaking.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, feeling her chest tighten. “I’ll bring him back.”

Refusing to look back at them, Nikki kept her gaze forward and strode out of the room.

* * *

The stark white corridor stretched the entire length of the building, both sides lined with windowless steel doors. Black keypads were installed next to every lock, and above them were small lights, some red and most green.

Occupancy signs, Nikki thought grimly.

Serena stopped at the thirteenth door on the left, glancing over her shoulder at Nikki. “I hope you aren’t squeamish,” she mocked. “I did a real number on him.”

“I’m familiar with your handy work,” Nikki said, stone-faced.

“Oh, that’s right,” Serena laughed, punching in a key code. “How’s your friend doing? Still in a coma?”

Nikki didn’t dignify that with a response, which only seemed to amuse Serena more. The keypad beeped and metal slid against metal as the deadbolt unlocked.

“You have ten minutes,” Serena said, twisting the handle and shoving open the door. “So talk fast.”

A blast of cold air met Nikki as she entered and the door slammed behind her, locking her in.

Her ragged gasp turned into a cry when she saw him.

“Griffin.”

He hung limp in the center of the room, arms trapped in cuffs and chains, head sagging against his chest. Rivers of blood poured from his arms and the wounds in his chest, soaking through his jeans and running onto the white tile underneath him.

She bolted for him. “Griffin?” Cupping his face, she lifted his head. “Griffin, wake up. Please wake up.” Her voice broke. “Griffin, it’s me, I’m here…”

He didn’t stir.

“Griffin, wake up,” she ordered, pressing her fingers to the underside of his jaw. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she waited to feel the flutter of life against beneath his skin.

The weak pulse under her fingertips brought relieved tears to her eyes.

“C’mon Griffin, open your eyes. You have to wake up, c’mon.”

His eyelids twitched. Bloodshot eyes met hers but his gaze was distant. He was staring through her.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled against the heel of her palm.

Stroking her thumb over his bruised cheek, she shook her head. “No Griffin, you’re not dead. You’re safe now.”

He blinked, and his stare focused.

“Nikki?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s me,” she said, offering a soft smile. “I’m gonna get you down from here.” She glanced up at the leather cuffs and chains suspending him from the ceiling. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Going onto her tiptoes, Nikki worked at the buckle on the left cuff. Griffin winced, reflexively pulling away. When the straps came apart, his arm fell over her shoulder and he slumped against her. He couldn’t hold his own weight and when Nikki reached around his torso to help support him, Griffin cried out in agony.

Hands slick with wetness, she looked over his shoulder to find her fingers coated in red. “Oh, my God.”

Griffin clamped his jaw shut and closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. She could hear the sobs trying to work up his throat and past his bruised lips.

“Griffin, what…” She craned her neck to inspect him, and was queasy at the sight.

Countless gashes covered his back, flesh nearly shredded from bone.

He’d been whipped.

“Serena…” Griffin muttered weakly. “Wanted… to teach me… a lesson.”

Rage, so potent it dimmed her vision, flooded Nikki. She was certain all she’d have to do was part her lips for a scream to tear through her, so powerful it would bring the building to its foundation.

Adjusting her hold on Griffin, she unbuckled the other cuff and braced herself for the rest of his weight. She was able to haul him to the other side of the room before they collapsed against the wall in a tangle. Griffin yelled out again, but he was able to breathe through the pain while Nikki helped him into a sitting position, with his shoulder pressed into the cold cinderblock.

They sat angled towards each other as he recovered. When he was able, he looked up at her.

“How did you find me?” His voice was gravel.

Nikki curled herself closer to him. “Maggie found me,” she said. “She gave me another message like she had that first night and…” Griffin shook his head, and she let her sentence drop off.

“How did you find me down here?” He asked. “How did you know where I was?”

Her lungs refused to fill with air.

“Griffin, I made a deal…” She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “And they agreed to let you go.”

He scowled. “A deal? What… what kind of deal?”

Tears blurred her vision. “A Blood Pact. My life for yours.”

“What?” The word broke apart in the space between them.

“Griffin…”

Disbelieving, he shook his head. “No. No, Nikki, please…”

She curved her hand over his jaw, stroking gently. “I couldn’t leave you here to die,” she said. “This was the only way to get you back.”

“But…”

“Griffin, I’m dying,” she said, voice cracking. “We both know that. So I did the only thing I could that would give us a chance at saving you.”

Anguish darkened his gaze. “Why?”

Her fingertips brushed the soft hair at his temple and the first tears fell from her lashes. “Because you’re too important,” she said. “You’re the Hunter King of New York, and people need you. Your people need you. Remember? That’s what you said to me at Onyx.”

Griffin’s eyelids fluttered closed, a soft, wounded sound escaping from his chest. “Nik…”

She ducked her head and whispered, “Griffin, you’re going to live a long life, and do a lot of good. And I need to die knowing that you’ll still be here when I’m gone.”

Griffin broke. Tears streaked his bloody face as his body was racked with quiet sobs. His head went limp and she held him against her, with his face tucked into the curve of her neck.

She pressed her cheek into his hair. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For showing me I had a purpose,” she said. “And for not running from my wimpy can of pepper spray.” She smiled down at him, remembering the night he’d helped her.

Inhaling, Griffin tried to push himself up but his shoulder gave out, and he slumped back against her and the wall. Nikki inched down so she was eye level with him, and let her hand trail down his neck. Tears welled over as she stared into his eyes. She leaned in, grazing his cheek with her lips, his stubble scraping against her. He tilted his head towards her, and for a beat her mouth hovered over his. She dipped down, claiming his lips with hers, and felt him shudder. It made her ache.

Griffin dragged his wounded arm up, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her to him. He inhaled the scent of her, drawing it deep into his lungs. He broke away, only to gather enough air to speak.

“Nikki, I-”

“Shh…” She pressed her thumb against his lips. “I know. And I do too.”

Griffin sniffed as more tears fell. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he whispered. “I…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” she said, shaking her head. “Because I’m not. I’ll never be sorry for this.”

With the strength he had left, Griffin pushed himself up and kissed her again, deep and full of longing. It broke her apart from the inside. They would have this. They would have this moment, bursting with the love they had for each other. The love they’d never get to dwell in, live with, rejoice over. It was a cherished love Nikki would carry to her grave.

The metallic scraping of the deadbolt ripped through the room, and the door flung open. Serena and two heavily muscled guards stood on the other side.

“Time’s up,” Serena bit out. Motioning to the men next to her, she said, “Boys, take him to Alexander.”

[meditationadvise]

I Thought I`d Never Get Pregnant Until I Tried This

Tara Stiles is a worldwide renowned yogi, the founder of Strala Yoga exercise, and a very successful writer. In her new class Prenatal Yoga: The Complete Guide, she supplies safe as well as efficient yoga regimens that will certainly bring you energy, restriction morning illness, therefore much more.

Thank you for all the positivity and also enjoyment as well as pleasant words for our child girl on the means. We're delighted as well as pumped up, when I'm awake, that is. Growing people certain takes the mojo right from you. Yet hey, that's OK.

So, I desired to share a little my lessons found out up previously, as well as I enjoy to share my errors as well as trip-ups, so possibly you can save yourself some stress and anxiety and time no issue what you're going through in your life.

We had actually been aiming to make a baby, first rather casually and after that a bit much more 'trying' for a while. Three years ago I 'made a decision' it was time. I went off the tablet, had Mike meet me in Paris for the weekend while I got on the means residence from a Moscow event, and also decided we would obtain pregnant. All set to relocate into the household stage of our lives. Easy right? Ha!

Turned out, my intense idea shockingly worked. It was our very first time 'trying,' and also I declared promptly I was pregnant. I acted as if I recognized for certain, as well as a couple of weeks later on, took an examination and it transformed out I was! And afterwards something horrible occurred. Mike and I were shooting some video clips with each other on an all-day production, and also I started to really feel insane weary. I sat on the couch throughout breaks as well as went to sleep resting up. I understood something had not been right, and throughout one section of filming an unabridged course, I rolled up for the closing breaths and really felt the bleeding. I went to the bathroom and also there was full-on blood, not detecting but blood. We had actually filming delegated do, and I had not informed anybody I was pregnant besides Mike, of training course. We finished the few hrs of recording, gracefully eluded out of the celebratory dinner, and also went house.

The Googling started. I dove deep into message boards, blog sites, and also anything I might locate on blood loss in the very first trimester. Nothing looked that encouraging. Whatever I discovered that offered me a little hope, I knew was comprehending. My inquiries weren't going to be resolved by Google this moment. I made a consultation with my physician, and also she verified the losing the unborn baby. I had a huge migraine a couple of days after but kept up my life customarily. I held a buddy's brand-new child eventually while I was still bleeding a heap. It was hard. I really felt alone and didn't share. I didn't want the limelight on me with this negative information when there was a lot else to do, from celebrating good friends' infants, to leading courses as well as trainings and getting ready for upcoming traveling. I just wanted my body to really feel better so we might get on with it, try once more, as well as make it happen.

So, we type of quit attempting and after that fought, and afterwards dealt with a lot, and afterwards stopped discussing it, then never truly dealt with it. Our partnership obtained so poor, we divided, and I assumed it was over. We said just regarding exterior circumstances and also really did not reach any type of root.

After practically a year, we repaired slowly, after that suddenly obtained back our original trigger. We began enjoying with each other, like when we had actually very first satisfied and had a lot more spare time. We started having a lot more fun since we had all this background now and everything we have actually developed along with the Strala community. Enjoyable ended up being present in everything and the top priority for our partnership. We really did not need to deal with it because it was simple once more. Certainly, like any pair, aggravations are there once in a while, but currently they are funny and also short lived due to the fact that the freedom and also pleasure is back and also strong.

So, we started trying once more. Casually in the beginning, and after that a bit more targeted. I obtained an application that informs you when to go all out. My life was active as well as busy, yet I felt penalty. I felt stimulated, and I would admit there was stress and anxiety, but absolutely nothing I could not 'handle.' And then after months of going regarding my common continuous continuously timetable, getting at ideal 6 hrs a sleep each night, it occurred to me that we both had to make some area-- not simply for a pregnancy but also for our new life, with a real person in it. The change should not happen after I'm pregnant or the minute the baby gets here. The adjustment had to take place now.

So I did something radical. I developed room. Not in the means I was utilized to, which was developing space so I could accomplish more. This time around I was developing room so I could exist because area and also just be.

Create space to be.

Big inhale.

Long exhale.

And just be.

It scared the black out of me to study this new idea, yet it really felt so required to accomplish just what I actually wanted. Much more holistically, it really felt necessary to achieve the degree of peace I yearned for, past any kind of goal of a household. This brand-new way of developing room to be would become the key that took me to amazing places, beyond anywhere I had been thus far.

So, I reduced my routine. I imply I truly lowered it. I started abandoning my phone at the office every evening. I started doing much less. I enjoyed regular shiatsu treatments from our buddy Sam Berlind. He worked years of things out of my shoulders, hips, and back. I started preparing more, not simply for video clips or social media pictures but also for nutrients and enjoyment. I began taking note of just how I really felt. I began reducing activities in my life that didn't bring me delight. I changed my regional organisation totally and also created space for our bigger picture. I dissatisfied individuals and left some completely pissed off. I had to alter as well as it was up to me, only me, to pull the trigger.

So lots of people asked me for many years concerning when we were going to have children. I recognize I'm not alone in feeling disgusting as well as somewhat attacked by these most personal questions, from people who don't understand you so well, along with the deal of infant recommendations flowing extra openly than coffee in the regional neighborhood stores. These questions went to very first aggravating, after that upsetting, after that I finally took my power back. When somebody who I do not know really well would certainly ask me about my fertility, I would certainly ask something equally invasive that was none of my service. How's the connection with your mother? Finances back in order? It normally functioned. It had not been just dodging concerns that got my power back. I really did not require to conceal anymore. I got on my own right track.

After the slashing, the recovering my power, I was left with this space. Nothing was really taking place, however I had area, as well as it began to really feel great. Keep in mind when you were a youngster and you (hopefully) had this substantial feeling of room, time, and creativity daily? I was beginning to get that back. This new space became my most crucial goal. Space to be. I might shut my eyes as well as see every little thing streaming from below.

So we started attempting again with the app. After that I was obtaining frustrated at the app, as well as my partnership to checking it and checking out all its suggestions way too often, so I erased it. We had actually just enjoyed a Matt Damon movie, The Martian, and I love the line regarding exactly how he found out the best ways to expand potatoes on Mars. He claimed, 'I scientific research 'd the shit out of it!' The modern-day globe has great deals of choices in order to help points along with making a child, and our initial stop was the pharmacy. We got an ovulation test that informs you 'for actual' without the uncertainty of an app when is go time. Gauging around that time came to be gratifying and also really felt aggressive. You obtain a straight-up face that says, yes your body is functioning. You have a surge in all the satisfied hormones now. And if you intend to try to make a baby this month, go time is NOW!

After a few smiley-face months, I was a couple of days late but not curious about taking an examination and obtaining bummed out, so we waited. Each month I would certainly think I had some 'signs,' which is quite amusing because a lot of the signs of pregnancy are likewise signs and symptoms of PMS, each taking place in that very same time home window. I stopped attempting to persuade myself that I was peeing a whole lot, had sore boobs and shortness of breath, and just obtained on with my life as typical. We were preparing yourself to leave for Europe, Asia, as well as Australia for a month of Strala trainings and other events, as well as I figured I need to take a test in instance we should establish a doctor go to for when we're back. It would certainly be eight or 9 weeks by that factor, and also my present OB didn't do all the baby things. I took a test, and immediately it transformed pregnant. I still think that indicates I was 'actually pregnant' as well as not simply a little! We raised and down and also scrambled to find a physician that was taking brand-new people. Not an easy point to find in New York City, by the method. After dozens of calls, we finally had an appointment for when we were back, and I could complete packing as well as head to the airport. Eeek! Preparation went out the window on that one.

So this solid little girl made it through an insane trip to Europe, Asia, as well as Australia, full of 20 trips, numerous trainings, workshops, occasions, retreats, finalizings, as well as a great deal of morning/all-day-long illness.

So that's my tale as well as lessons found out. And this is simply the beginning.

You can produce room to achieve much more, which is wonderful and also great yet not sustainable.

Or you can develop room to be.

I hope you select the second, so you could enjoy your personal creative thinking and see where that takes you. Probably to release some rather fantastic stuff.