#my propeller and star treatment are gone :(

[alexturner2005]

Setlist @ I-Days Milano, 15th July 2023

[quicksilversquared]

The Substitute Ladybug: Chapter 7

After Lila takes things too far and Marinette ends up with a broken leg, Paris is going to have to deal with a different superhero arrangement for a bit. Having to share her superhero identity with her parents before Hawkmoth can be defeated isn’t something that Marinette had planned on doing, but- well, it might end up being a bit of a blessing in disguise.

links in the reblog

Three and a half weeks into her time on crutches, an akuma attack struck when Marinette was halfway across Paris, in the middle of a crowd and with nowhere she could go to transform and then Portal her way back to her bedroom.

She shouldn't have accepted Alya's invitation to go out with her and the other girls for ice cream, but Marinette had just been so tired of not being able to go on outings because her crutches made things difficult. Besides, her physical therapist had encouraged the exercise, because otherwise she was going to lose a lot of muscle tone. So Marinette went, and- well, things had gone relatively well. They couldn't walk and eat their ice cream like usual, but it was fun to get to hang out with her friends outside of school.

And then the akuma showed up, and how was Marinette supposed to safely navigate the fleeing crowds and the akuma's zapping power on crutches? It was impossible, there were no stores nearby that weren't already packed with people, and if she didn't get injured in the stampede- well, then she'd end up as an akuma's zombie, wouldn't she?

Marinette didn't want that to happen. It didn't sound fun, obviously, and also- well, as much as she trusted her mom and Chat Noir, Marinette liked being in control. She liked being involved with the attack and the plan. Part of it was just that she was used to it, as Ladybug, but part...

Well, no one really liked feeling like they were at the mercy of an akuma attack, did they? There had been people who had left Paris and good jobs because they hated it so much.

Regardless of how pointless it was, Marinette propelled herself as fast as she could on her crutches. There was always the off chance that there would be a spot where she could duck in and transform, even if it wasn't likely. Her breath was coming in pants as she pushed herself along, and Marinette gritted her teeth as she got jostled by a couple fleeing people. One particularly hard hit sent her stumbling, cringing as weight landed on her broken leg. With a cry, Marinette fell to the pavement. Behind her, she could hear the akuma's cackling growing closer.

There was no way out now. No way, no way-

And suddenly, Marinette found herself in the air.

"Gotcha, Princess," Chat Noir said cheerfully, leaping over another building. "Unfortunately I couldn't grab your crutches, but with any luck, maybe the Cure will get them back to you. If not, this cat can play fetch."

"Are you sure you're not part-dog?" Marinette teased, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Chat Noir sent her a frankly offended look before grinning.

"You know that some cats fetch, right? Maybe I'm just that kind."

"Ha ha," Marinette deadpanned, then had to resist the urge to hold on tighter during a slightly harder landing. As much as she hated to admit it- she was a superhero, darn it, and even if she wasn't transformed, she had been carried like this before- having one leg not at 100% made her feel a lot less secure. "Thanks for the save, by the way. I've been lucky enough before to not be out in public when akumas hit."

"It probably helps that there's been fewer attacks, huh?" Chat Noir adjusted his path suddenly, and Marinette looked away from him and out across the rooftops. Several blocks away, she could see Coccinelle approaching. "This'll just take a minute. I want to check in with Coccinelle so that she knows that I'll be running a few minutes late."

Marinette could only nod before Chat Noir was off again, racing across the rooftops. Coccinelle had spotted him coming and paused on a rooftop, watching curiously as they approached. As soon as she recognized Marinette in Chat Noir's arms, her eyebrows crawled into her hairline.

"I'm bringing Marinette back home," Chat Noir told Coccinelle, lifting Marinette slightly as if to show her off. "She was in the crowds near the akuma, and- well, they weren't being very careful if they just knocked over someone on crutches. I just want to make sure that she's safe before I go out."

"Good idea," Coccinelle agreed after a pause. "I'll- well, I might drop into an alleyway for a few minutes and try to get an eye on the situation like Vipera does, with tapping into security cameras. She's not online yet, so it might help to get a jumpstart on the situation."

Chat Noir tensed up, frowning. "I hope she's okay. We have a mind-control akuma on our hands this time, and if she's been hit..."

"I have a feeling that she's fine." Coccinelle's smile got a little wider. "Now, we should probably hurry, dear."

"Right!" Chat Noir straightened, making Marinette yelp as she was jostled. "Sorry, sorry- okay, I'll be right back! Hold on, Marinette!"

With that, they were off again. It took no time at all to reach Marinette's balcony, but much to her surprise, Chat Noir didn't just put her down there. Instead, he carried her inside, all the way down to the kitchen, before settling her down on the couch carefully.

"Stay safe," Chat Noir instructed sternly, glancing around as if to make sure that nothing was going to jump at her from behind the cupboards before patting her shoulder and stepping back. "I'll stop by later to make sure that you get your crutches back, okay?"

Marinette nodded, and Chat Noir was off like a shot.

"Helpful boy," Sass commented, floating out of Marinette's purse at last. "It's convenient that he grabbed you! There was no way that you would have dodged the akuma otherwise."

"Yeah," Marinette agreed. Her heart was still racing because of that. She took a deep breath- being all pumped up on adrenaline and buzzy wasn't going to work very well with the Snake- and let it out slowly, then nodded to herself. "Okay. Sass, transform me!"

  "I almost had a heart attack when I saw that the akuma was over where I knew you and the girls were getting ice cream," Mrs. Cheng told Marinette once the battle had finished and she had returned to the house. "I mean, I'm sure that Chat Noir and I could have managed, but it's just that we've gotten so used to you helping out and being our failsafe that the prospect of having to go without just felt unsafe." She sent a sly smile in Marinette's direction. "That was nice of Chat Noir to bring you home, though, wasn't it? He really went out of his way for it."

Marinette tried (and failed, probably) not to turn red at the teasing hint in her mom's voice. "I was really glad when he showed up. Someone had knocked me over when they were running away from the akuma. I was a bit worried that I would get trampled, and I bet he was, too. That's why he grabbed me."

Mrs. Cheng was smiling. "And carried you across the city... and to our house... and down to the living room..."

Marinette didn't have an answer for that. Usually when she and Chat Noir saved civilians- which wasn't regularly, by now they figured that most people knew to get out of the way on their own or knew the risks of staying close by and besides, they had to focus on the akuma and trying to save everyone individually was impractical- it was because the person in question was getting targeted specifically and they didn't usually go further than they needed to. Her mom was right- going to such measures to help what appeared to be a random civilian was a little odd.

But she was on crutches, and- well, she wasn't exactly random, was she? Even if she ignored the whole Ladybug and Guardian thing, Marinette had interacted with Chat Noir before. She had helped out with Evillustrator, and then there was the whole brunch fiasco. He had saved her when her grandma turned into Befana. He knew her on a more personal level, and that combined with seeing her struggling on her crutches (which hadn't been returned by the Miraculous Cure, unfortunately) had probably been enough to warrant the Gold Star treatment.

"That close call didn't seem to throw you off at all, though," Mrs. Cheng commented after a minute. She poured herself a cup of tea, giving it a gentle swirl before trying a sip. "I was worried that it might, but that was a very smooth fight. It helped that there was just an akuma, of course, and not the full supervillain force, but it still went quite well. I think Chat Noir is enjoying being able to hang around a little at the end of the attacks." She sent a smile Marinette's way. "Not that he won't enjoy having you back more, of course. He keeps asking how much longer you're going to be on crutches and then pouting when the answer isn't oh, she'll be back tomorrow."

Marinette had to smile at that. That sounded very much like Chat Noir.

"Sometime he acts like it's been a year since he had seen or heard from you last," her mom added with a small laugh. "Instead of just under a month since he's seen you in person. The way he carries on sometime, you would think that it's been absolutely forever."

"It feels like forever!" Marinette complained, slumping in her seat. "I knew when I got the cast put on that it would be a while before I could do things normally again, but this is ridiculous. I just want to get back out and running around again."

"You have to be patient, or you could run the risk of re-injuring yourself," Mrs. Cheng reminded her. She smiled. "Chat Noir and I are getting along fine. And I'll even have him turned into a perfect gentleman by the time you're returned."

Marinette's frown deepened and she straightened abruptly, giving her mom a dismayed look. "Wait, what do you mean, turning him into a gentleman? Chat Noir is great already! I don't need him to be opening doors for me, or carrying my things, or- or-"

"No- oh, that came out wrong," Mrs. Cheng exclaimed. "And maybe gentleman is the wrong thing to call it. It comes with behavior implications, I suppose. It's just- well, it's just like when you were younger and acted up sometimes, and I would talk to you about it. Or about any concerns I had, really, it didn't have to be just misbehaving."

Marinette sighed and drooped again. "Oh. You're mothering him."

"You say that like it's a bad thing!" Mrs. Cheng protested. "Or like he doesn't like it. He appreciates it, he really does."

Marinette hummed, not entirely convinced. Chat Noir was a teenage boy, and what teenage boy appreciated being told off or talked to about the stuff they were doing by someone who wasn't even their parent? None of them, probably. It was one thing to give him advice when he asked for it, but parental scolding was completely different.

If that was what was going on, that was. Though Marinette really couldn't think of what her mom could possibly be scolding Chat Noir about. Their battles were short and focused all the time now- with Vipera giving out all of the instructions, battle time banter had been cut down to a minimum so that they didn't get distracted- and there really wasn't anything that could go that wrong during their twice-a-week patrols.

Maybe- maybe it was all Chat Noir asking questions and her mom just wasn't communicating that very well?

"I promise, I'm not trying to change who he is at heart," Mrs. Cheng promised. "I'm not trying to make him act in a really specific way or anything. I wouldn't do that."

Marinette nodded at last, deciding to take her mom at her word, at least for now. Maybe she could call up Chat Noir some other time as Vipera and make sure that Coccinelle wasn't stepping over any lines, but that could wait for a bit.

On the counter, her mom's phone buzzed with a message. Mrs. Cheng picked it up, then made a slight face. "Ah, Tom wants some help with prepping dough for tomorrow. Will you be all right up here?" She glanced over at Marinette, her frown deepening when she noticed the lack of crutches. "Except you don't have your crutches- did they get left near the akuma site? I don't want you to be stranded in one place because you can't get around." Mrs. Cheng glanced from her phone to the clock to Marinette, concern growing on her face. "I want to go get them now, but..."

"Chat Noir said that he would bring my crutches back after the battle," Marinette assured her hastily. "If the Cure didn't bring them back, that is. So I bet that he's recharging and then he'll bring them over. I'll be fine."

"And if Marinette wants to move, she can just transform," Sass piped up from where he was munching on a small snack on the table. "I can add a pair of crutches to the transformation and she can just use those! We'd just have to be careful to not still be transformed when Chat Noir comes over."

Mrs. Cheng laughed at that, then covered her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't find that funny, because I know that you've said that you aren't ready to do a reveal yet, but I was just imagining the look on Chat Noir's face if he came over with Marinette's crutches, only to find Vipera in our living room and figure out that he had, by complete chance, saved Ladybug from the akuma. You'd be able to knock him over with a feather, I just know it."

Marinette grinned at the mental image. As much as they weren't ready for a reveal- yeah, it would be a pretty funny reaction. "I think I'll leave the transformation option for a last resort, if I need to use the bathroom or something. Otherwise, I can just wait for Chat Noir to come. Unless something comes up, I doubt that he'll take long."

"If you're sure." Mrs. Cheng glanced around, making sure that she hadn't forgotten anything, and then with one last smile, headed back down to the bakery. Marinette settled herself on the couch, picking up her phone as she did. It was flashing with messages, and she opened them to find Alya and her other friends being super worried about where she had gone. She shot back a quick message assuring them that she was safe and Chat Noir had brought her home so that she would be out of harm's way- hopefully they wouldn't read into that and decide that Chat Noir had a crush on her or something ridiculous like that- and then flipped through her phone some more, idly browsing the Ladyblog and the superheroes' tag online. Once again, people were praising Coccinelle and Chat Noir for the short fight, gushing over their teamwork. Marinette wrinkled her nose when she spotted a couple comments about how 'clearly Coccinelle and Chat Noir make a better team', but she wasn't going to let it bother her, not anymore.

It was only going to be a couple weeks more before they made an announcement that would shed a little- but hopefully not too much- light on how much Ladybug was helping behind the scenes. They would see what the people dissing the normal superhero partnership thought about it then.

Only a minute later, there was a soft thump from upstairs. Marinette put her phone away, glancing upwards, and Sass quickly vanished under the counter before the trapdoor opened and Chat Noir appeared. He had her crutches tucked neatly under one arm as he trotted down the stairs and directly to her.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Chat Noir told her, presenting her crutches grandly before leaning them up against the side of the couch, well within her reach. "And that even if the Cure didn't bring your crutches back, it at least dealt with whatever bruising you might have gotten from getting knocked over."

"It did," Marinette assured him hastily. "It was hurting, but the Cure came by and fixed me right back up. Or back to where I had been, at least."

"Yeah, it's unfortunate that it can't heal your leg entirely. At least I'm assuming it can't, at least." Chat Noir stepped closer, seeming to hesitate for a moment before taking a seat on the couch next to her. "Is there anything else I can do to help? I can do something while I'm here, if you need. If there's anything from your room- I'm assuming that you're sleeping somewhere else? It looked a bit more unused that I'm used to."

Marinette couldn't help but smile. This was classic Chat Noir, always helpful. Though- well, that than I'm used to was a bit odd, wasn't it? He had only been in her room a couple times, and mostly when there were akumas to focus on. Noticing that it wasn't getting used was normal enough- after all, all of her bedding was gone- but surely he hadn't actually remembered her room well enough from those few times to be used to what it looked like. "That's sweet of you to offer, but I think I'm good. And yeah, my parents have a guest room that I'm using, so that I wouldn't have to deal with two more flights of stairs."

"That's nice that you have that option," Chat Noir commented. "Crutches and stairs- yeah, it's not the best combination, is it?"

"Oh, not at all." Marinette made a face. She had been trying to learn how to go up stairs on her crutches- short flights only, and only when she didn't have another option- but it was hard. There were just too many moving parts, and too many things that could snag on the stairs and too many shifts in balance to keep track of. "I'm lucky that we got to have stair lifts put in the house. If I had to be restricted to just one level unless someone else was around to move me up and down the stairs, or if I had to just, like, sit on the stairs to go up or down..."

It wouldn't be any fun at all, and the whole six weeks on crutches would drag out even more than it already was. And considering that she still had two and a half weeks to go...

Well, it really would feel like eternity then. She would probably end up abusing the Horse's powers just a little bit, just to be able to not have to always be on the same floor.

"Ooh, yeah, having everything on one floor would be a lot better," Chat Noir agreed. "Which your place...does not. At all."

That was an understatement.

"Anyway, I guess if you're all set... I should probably go." Chat Noir glanced around, then got up. "See you around?"

Marinette glanced up at him. Chat Noir was acting twitchy, like he did on evenings when rain threatened to cancel their patrols but he really didn't want to go home. She had never asked why, but it was easy enough to guess that he was probably pretty ignored and lonely. She was ahead on her schoolwork, so it wasn't like there was anything that she needed to be doing right now. "Actually... would you like to play a couple rounds of Mecha Strike before you go?"

The way Chat Noir perked up was all the answer she needed.

  It ended up being way more than 'a couple rounds' before Chat Noir finally noticed the time and took off, hastily thanking Marinette for the game before he fled out the kitchen balcony. Marinette giggled as she watched him go, frantically pumping his arms and legs as though that was going to help him go any faster.

"I should check and see if Mama and Papa need any help," Marinette told Sass once Chat Noir had jumped out of view. She pushed herself up, reaching for her crutches. "They don't normally take this long to do next-day dough prep. I wonder if something broke?"

"It would be nice to be able to move around a little," Sass agreed, flying over to perch on Marinette's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to, but you've been sitting a lot today. It's probably a good idea to get up."

"I've not been sitting any more than I normally would on a school day!" Marinette protested, but she could see where Sass was making a point. She had been sitting pretty much since Chat Noir snatched her off of the ground, hours earlier, and at school she was at least getting up between classes and moving around for a few minutes.

It didn't take long for Marinette to hop her way over to her chair lift and start downstairs. Her parents were nowhere to be seen in the front of the bakery- which made sense, since it was closed for the day and most of their equipment was in back anyway- so Marinette headed for the main kitchens instead, starting to push open the kitchen door and then pausing when she heard her name mentioned.

"- so I just want to make sure that Chat Noir knows how to pick up on it and figure out what he can do."

"Has he responded well to it?" Mr. Dupain asked over the clatter of dishes dropping into the sink. "Can you tell?"

"Of course he has, he only wants to be able to help her. And he hadn't realized how much different the levels of stress are, literally all the time. He's picked up when it's gotten really bad, of course, but not realized that it's a constant thing." Mrs. Cheng paused, and Marinette could hear the sound of dough being kneaded against the table. "So I've been working with him on patrols to pick up on more subtle signs of stress and to be able to recognize when it's a good time to joke around and when it would just be an unwelcome distraction, and how to differentiate playful flirting and pushing boundaries. He's been lovely about it. He hadn't realized- it's poor teaching from his parents rearing its head up again."

"I mean, it's a best case scenario, isn't it?" Mr. Dupain turned on the dishwasher, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the rush of water. "He just didn't realize, instead of being at least partially aware and not bothering to adjust what he was doing."

"Exactly. He's a sweet boy, and while it may take a little for him to really learn how to recognize the more hidden signs of stress, he's willing to learn." There was a smile in Mrs. Cheng's voice. "And he's been asking for ideas on how to help out to keep stress from becoming an issue and coming up with his own ideas to run by me. We've definitely talked about how he can help out more, and brainstormed ways for him to take on a bit more responsibility, both during battles and outside of them. It's- well, it's a little difficult to start implementing right away, of course, since Vipera changes battles so much, but we can talk over scenarios during patrols."

"The only problem with that, of course, is that he's not getting in practice with his changed behavior, so it might be really easy for him to fall back into old habits once Ladybug returns," Mr. Dupain commented. There was the hum of another machine now, and Marinette recognized it as the dough roller. They were working on croissants now, probably, which meant that they were really behind schedule. "But then he should hopefully just need a reminder or two to realize when he's slipped. The problem, I think, would just be the question of how to remind him, since he can't know who we are." A pause. "Or who you are, more specifically. Since he's only really met me the once."

"I'm sure I could figure something out. And- Tom, the roller is freezing up again. I really think we need to call for someone to come in and look at it first thing tomorrow morning, we can't be babysitting it all the time to get it to work."

"Of course! And- hmm. Can you unplug the machine? I'll just finish up this batch by hand."

Marinette carefully closed the door silently as the topic of conversation shifted back to regular bakery business, then pivoted herself around to head back upstairs. She couldn't exactly be of any help with the croissants- Marinette didn't know enough about the machines to be able to pick out any problems and fix them, and actually rolling out the dough took a lot of arm strength and weight. Her parents probably didn't want her eavesdropping anyway, and she could maybe start on some dinner prep while they wrestled the last of the Sunday evening preparations together.

"So that's what your mom meant when she was talking about making Chat Noir a gentleman," Sass commented as Marinette's chair lift hummed back up the stairs again. "That's not bad, is it? She's working to help improve your teamwork."

Marinette nodded, ducking her head to hide her smile. "Yeah. It's really nice."

"And it's helping you two move closer to being able to do a reveal!" Tikki piped up, appearing in front of Marinette and making her jump enough that she very nearly toppled out of the lift. "Which is very good!"

"You- you can't just pop out of nowhere like that, Tikki!" Marinette exclaimed, one hand pressed to her chest and the other clutching the lift's armrest tight enough that her knuckles turned white. "You scared me!"

Tikki giggled. "Sorry! But I sensed you listening in, and I wanted to come check in on you and make sure that you weren't seeing your mom as interfering when she's really helping."

"I know she's helping, it's really nice that she's talking to him about that stuff- wait!" Marinette cut herself off, the other part of what Tikki had said sinking in. She frowned. "I thought that we couldn't do a reveal unless something went wrong or Hawkmoth got defeated, Tikki! It's what you've drilled into my head from the start. And what- what about the consequences? Last time Chat Noir knew who I was- well, Chat Blanc happened, didn't it?"

"There are consequences if you reveal too soon and aren't ready for it," Tikki corrected her, floating down to land on her lap. "And while there are dangers no matter what when more people know your identity... well, if you know each other outside of the mask, then you can support each other all the time. You can know where the other person is when an akuma attacks. You can talk about Guardian information in a place that isn't open rooftops. But reveals do change things, and that's why we always start off recommending that you keep your identity secret!"

"Change things how-" Marinette started, and then paused, frowning. "Actually, I think I know what you mean. It could throw off the dynamic, and- well, we don't exactly have the time or the wriggle room to fix our dynamic if we really screw it up, not with Hawkmoth hovering around the corner all the time."

Tikki nodded proudly. "Exactly! You've always known each other as superheroes, and that shapes your perception, even if you know that under that mask, there's a normal civilian like you. But once the masks come off and you get to know each other as civilians- well, depending on if you know them and how well, your perception of what they're able to do might change. Even though you know better! But if you two are ready for a reveal- well, the concerns don't vanish, but they do go down a bit. Like, instead of taking twenty fights to get your perceptions back to pretty much where they had been, it'll just take two, and it shouldn't start out as bad."

"So even though we haven't been seeing each other in person, we're getting closer?" Marinette checked. "That- I mean, I understand how that's happening, it just seems counterintuitive."

Tikki nodded. "I'm not surprised! But sometimes you need to shake up the status quo for maturation to really get going again, and this whole situation- no matter how unfortunate it's been- has forced both of you out of your comfort zones. You've had to adjust to different roles within your team, and now you have another long-term team member, one who is bringing different life experience to your team. Having your parents knowing about you means that you can go to them for advice, instead of muddling through strictly on your own. Not that muddling is bad!" Tikki added hastily. "It's a good thing, to a point. Being able to be independent and solve your own problems is great, but it's also nice to talk to others and see how they might have approached it. Sometimes it turns out that your own approach was better, for whatever reason- maybe because you know your relationship with Chat Noir better, or there were other factors that your parents don't know about but you do, whether consciously or not- but sometimes talking it over can give you more ideas for in the future."

"Right," Marinette said at once. That was easy enough to understand, actually. She had done something similar before, going through comments on the Ladyblog when she had the time and reading over what some of the commenters thought that she and Chat Noir should have done instead to see if there was anything that she hadn't thought of any might be able to incorporate in the future. Most were fairly useless as far as suggestions went, or completely impractical, but occasionally there was a useful comment.

(Unsurprisingly enough, those kinds of comments were usually framed less as 'they should have done thing x' and more as 'I wonder if thing x would have worked?' instead.)

"But that applies for both battle things and personal things," Tikki added. "And then- well, your relationship can grow that way. And you two will have to do most of the work. But I think that this is going to help a lot! Most teenaged holders take years to really grow to fit together seamlessly enough that they would be able to do a reveal in these conditions."

"Tikki!" Mrs. Cheng called up the stairs. "Would you mind flying into the machine for a moment? Tom thinks he's found the jam, we just can't see for sure."

"Coming!" Tikki called, then turned back to Marinette. "Don't be worried about the reveal, Marinette, or try to force yourself into growth early. I just wanted to let you know about it with plenty of time so that you have some time to adjust to the idea before it become reality."

With that, she zipped off. Marinette watched her go for a moment, then pushed herself to her feet to head to the next leg of the lift.

She hadn't really given much thought to a reveal with her partner, ever since she had revealed to her parents. The emergency had been dealt with, and so it meant that things could continue as usual with her relationship with her partner- or as close to usual as they could get until she could return to the battlefield, at least. They had always planned on doing a reveal if they could after Hawkmoth had been dealt with, but that- well, it seemed like a years away sort of thing. Not because they thought that they couldn't beat him now, just...

Well, sometimes it felt like they were running in place, struggling to keep up with the new things that Hawkmoth threw at them and the losses of their allies.

But now Tikki was saying that it might happen sooner. That they might not have to wait. That sometime in the not-so-distant future, she and Chat Noir might be able to know each other outside of the masks, and not have it have the terrible repercussions that she so feared. That it could help her get more support- and help her support Chat Noir- instead.

As far as silver linings for bad situations went... well, that was pretty good.

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 37

Time for a little action to spice things up a bit. Maybe it’s because last scene had a gentle let down. Maybe it’s because of the last Survey having so many ties. Whatever the reasoning, enjoy a little action to start...

    ~I had expected my next meeting with Ix to be troublesome, but I figured with Sonic with me that things would have gone smoother than this. Or at least that he would talk. Ooh~ why does he have to be such a bad person!~

    “I had considered our next encounter would have occurred much sooner medium, alas, I have grown far stronger than you could have imagined.”

    Ix’s mocking of Rosy came from high above where she was held under Sonic’s arm like a duffle bag while he ran far more successfully across the desert sand than she could. Rosy’s cheeks were puffed up with frustration, but there was little she could do. Though Sonic teasing her didn’t help matters any.

    “Some trouble you’ve found, rascal,” Sonic commenting as he risked a glance back at what he fled from.

    It was not the first worm like golem Sonic had encountered, but the size of this one was like a small mountain had taken to the sands.

    “Ooh~! Ix didn’t make anything this large when I met him! I don’t know what happened!”

    “Well, whatever did, let’s just hope Draw can get the help we need.”

    Growing more serious, Sonic tried to pick up the pace as even he had traction problems on the sand dunes he skipped across. And fortune did not favor him or Rosy however as a particularly high dune with a view of the ruins of skyscrapers rising from the sand brought them well above the giant stone worm golem.

    “This doesn’t look good,” Sonic remarked as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.

    “At least it looks like fun,” Rosy laughed as a bead of sweat also streaked down her cheek.

    A moment later the two of them were tossed high into the air as the golem plowed straight through the sand dune. Sonic couldn’t keep his grip on Rosy, but luck was on their side to a degree as she landed on top of him as he crashed into the side of the golem.

    “Tee-hee~♥ Miss me Sonic?”

    “Well, you kept me from bouncing off of this thing, but it’s still kind of looking like we’re in a bit of trouble.”

    As Rosy sat in Sonic’s lap, she managed to allow him to slide along the wall of sand that rolled off the golem while effectively sitting. He would likely be sore later, but there was little he could do without any real traction. Ix planned on remedying that and had the golem change course under the midday sun.

    “WAHH~!” Sonic and Rosy cried out together as the worm turned sharply and coiled around the two hedgehogs. Neither of them saw what happened after that as thew were caught in a massive vortex of sand and promptly buried.

    As she was yanked out of the sand by her ankle, Rosy hoped it was Sonic to her rescue, however…

    “Ix!” Rosy gasped before coughing on inhaled sand.

    “So helpless you seem now, medium,” Ix spoke in a condescending tone. “Is this perhaps the consequence of you being in the company of your lover? No matter, I shall take from you your connection to the gods and return to my search.”

    Defenseless as she continued to choke and cough, Rosy could barely squint open her left eye as Ix struck the sand with his staff. Rising between where Rosy dangled and Ix stood, a single Ring formed a window between them, and they locked eyes through it. Ix’s glowing blue eyes, and the broken Red Star Ring held together by an internal gear that Rosy’s left iris became.

    “What! Impossible,” exclaimed Ix as Rosy started coughing harder and squeezed her eye shut again. Her coughs after a brief and dizzying moment could not escape her body at all however as Ix’s stone fist closed around her throat.

    “Kh…!” Rosy whimpered weakly as her lungs burned and her chest heaved violently. Forcing open her eyes as she grabbed feebly at Ix’s arm, she again graced him with the sight of the unusual sight in her left eye.

    “How!” Ix demanded as he tightened his grip and Rosy kicked her legs feebly. “How did you come into possession of a Yoluku Device! Answer–!”

    A sudden blow sent the golem flying and Rosy fell into Sonic’s arms as he uncurled from his Spin Dash. “The lady can’t say a word if you’re about to break her neck!

    “You alright kid?” Sonic asked as he looked down at Rosy who was clutching at her throat. Not wanting to worry Sonic, she offered him a wordless smile and nodded her head, several tears falling from her eyes. The sight did not please Sonic at all and she could feel the tension that rose from him.

    Gently placing Rosy on the ground, Sonic stood up and faced down Ix across the sand. A moment later and he surely would have reduced the golem to a pile of rubble, but that fate was left for the golem that trapped him and Rosy.

    ~Draw can be pretty imaginative sometimes. I would have never thought of it, but he did. He really is a cute little golem hunter. At least when he isn’t teasing me!

    ~Anyway, out in the desert we were running along in when Ix suddenly attacked us was more than just a bunch of old skyscrapers sticking up out of the dunes. Though seeing them covered in vines and moss made for a striking sight against the golden sand. But they were nothing compared to the bizarre sight of the castle that plowed through the giant worm golem Ix had used. It was like a thing from a fairytale all covered in buttresses and spires. The white stonework and blue tiled tower roofs were a sight to behold glistening in the afternoon sun. But the really amazing thing was the steam works underneath the town sized castle that propelled it across the surface of the sand.

    ~I mean Sonic and I couldn’t see them when we tried to run up alongside the castle as we chased it out of Ix’s trap. There was too much sand. But after Sonic picked me up again – honestly, I could have at least tried – we followed flares that Draw shot from within the steam works into the sandstorm the traveling castle stirred up. Once we actually could see them, there were so many pipes and gears it made me dizzy trying to follow them all.

    ~Soon enough we were whisked through the steam works by people wearing uniforms and a badge with a symbol of a wrench laid across a gear. I think that might be the symbol of the Engineers, but I can’t say for sure. Still, the castle was every bit as beautiful from within as it was from afar.

    ~I could have wandered the halls covered in the polished floors so reflective it was like I was walking on the soles of my own feet for hours. Whole wings of the massive castle were like towns within themselves, with farms built into some of the larger towers. I’m sure if Tails were here, he’d have spent forever in the bowels of the castle’s machinery, but it was almost a paradise within fit for a city of princesses. And the people were so nice too, without a sign of any of those mean priests in most towns around at all. But our wandering around was not without purpose and Sonic had been doing a lot of talking.

    ~What Ix had said about my eye had been bothering Sonic. I couldn’t blame him. It looked like a Red Star Ring that was simply crumbling at two of the points revealing a gear that was hidden in it, but Ix called it a device. If it was a machine… Ugh! It’s creepy thinking there’s a machine in my eye. But as this city seemed to belong to the Engineers, there was no one better to ask about it.

    ~There was just one tiny problem.~

    “Not even a hint of red left,” Sonic stated flatly as he looked into Rosy’s eye. She was fidgeting and trying her best just to look ahead so Sonic could get a good look, however…

    “Ee~k!” Rosy squealed and covered her face. “I’m sorry Sonic, but having you look so intently into my eyes…! AAH~! ~♥”

    Falling over and kicking at the air as she loosely curled up, Rosy earned an eye roll from Sonic and a sigh from Draw. “There really is something wrong with you, you weirdo girl.”

    “Rosy!” the pink hedgehog corrected her koala friend while peeking through her fingers. Again, both of her eyes were normal and there was no sign of the unique Red Star Ring within.

    “So now what? Draw asked turning to look at Sonic who took to resting his crossed arms on a nearby railing. His ear twitched in response to Draw’s question, but he offered no answer. “What I’d do to get the silent treatment this time! Didn’t I find the town those salvagers out in the desert told us about!”

    “It’s okay Draw, “Rosy comforted the young golem hunter by embracing him from behind. Her action frightened free Mote, the fairy companion of Draw’s, who Rosy tilted her head at and smiled. “Maybe you have an idea, Mote!”

    Good cheer and enthusiasm were far from enough to convince the fairy that claimed to not be allowed to communicate with a medium to stay and talk. Only Draw could speak with the fairy as it was due to a Ring Bond it had made with it, but he still did not speak up in time to prevent Rosy from vocalizing her disappointment. “Aww~!”

    “Give it up weirdo girl,” Draw advised her as he slipped out of her comforting hug. “Besides, Mote says it noticed something here while we’ve been wandering around aimlessly.

    “You’re welcome to join us,” Draw invited Sonic reluctantly, and not without making his dislike of that made clear, “though I wouldn’t care if you didn’t.”

    “Whatever you say, tyke,” Sonic waved a dismissive hand, but still pulled away from the railing.

    With his hands on the back of his head, Sonic followed Draw and Rosy, who in turn followed Mote deep into the heart of the castle.

    ~The castle kept surprising me with how amazing it was, but some surprises are really too much. I’m sure I covered my mouth when we reached that inner plaza under a big glass dome. The plaza itself was amazing, even if it was just another room inside the castle that served as one. But really, what else could it do. Right in the middle of it was a giant crystal rose the size of a mansion that was encased within a swirling clockwork device. It was just like the one the being in my dream from before my eye started getting weird had. Except the one in my dream actually moved. This one… well once in a while it moved slightly, like a minute hand on a clock, but that was all. Even the rose barely turned where it floated in the air.

    ~As amazing as it is though, it seemed a normal sight to the people who called the tower home. In a way, travelers like us were the weird ones.~

    “Now isn’t this a sight,” a high pitched but friendly voice spoke up behind Rosy and the others. “Don’t see travelers here too often who don’t know about the Rose."

Scene 37 · CLEARED Castle Rose, to be continued

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New character time! By the time this posts they would have already been designed and introduced during the regular writing streams, but I hope everyone enjoys them. there won’t be too much of them yet, but if your familiar with Sierokarte from GranBlue Fantasy you might have an idea of what to expect next week. I hope you enjoy it!

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Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – The Path of Duty – Yasunori Nishiki – GRANBLUE FANTASY: Versus ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[scrambledgegs]

Too Late the Hero

    It was Harvey Dent who uttered the famous lines, “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” A foreshadowing statement, as Dent later on personifies his very words when he goes on to become Two Face in the “The Dark Knight” Batman movies.

     This statement cannot be any truer, and we all can recount both real-life and fictional characters who easily represent this notion. The true-to-life “villains” we know of today may have actually started out as idealists, heroes, or savior-like archetypes that we used to looked up to – and looked past whatever side blemishes they also possessed in order to justify their actions. I think the best contemporary example of this – is the person whom Filipinos notoriously love to discuss nowadays – the person that needs no introduction, President Duterte.

About to Croak?

     President Duterte has recently been the talk of the town all the more when rumors circulated that he may have contracted COVID-19, while other rumors pointedly said that he was already on his deathbed. To augment such rumors, it was said that he may have allegedly even flown to Singapore to have himself checked. His office was quick to quash any such news by posting proof of life photos of the President, where he is seen to be eating a meal with the first family in Davao. Well, one thing we can all agree on however, is that he did not look his best. 

     The more significant and underlying message in this recent raucous is that, the general consensus on social media is that many had their fingers crossed for a new President. It looks like Duterte’s star power is quickly fading.

RUDY and RODY

   I was reminded of a conversation that a friend and I had around three weeks ago. During our usual, light political banter, I suddenly remembered how my parents used to compare President Duterte to American political icon, “Rudy” Giuliani. Quite serendipitously (and as though Netflix read my phone messages or possibly my mind), minutes later, I came across a new Netflix documentary entitled “Fear City: New York vs. The Mafia” where Giuliani is documented to have played a significant role in.

     This true crime documentary examines the rise and fall of organized crime in New York in the 1970s to early 1980s. It narrates the dark tale of how the Big Apple once transformed into the playground of underbelly operations of The Mafia – composed of the five major Italian-American crime families and their sophisticated network of ruthless henchmen. Law enforcers could not put a stop to their rings of crime, or even implicate them, and others that dared come close, found themselves or their loved ones in a rather, messy situation. These crime families of Italian descent were basically your true-to-life gangsters from which The Godfather Trilogy was based on.

 Batman, Robin and Commissioner Gordon in Gotham City

     Bringing down the Mob back then was a feat everyone thought impossible. Nevertheless, joint forces between the FBI and Giuliani (then U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York; 1983 -1989), and his handpicked team of prosecutors were able to do so – and with much required grit and tenacity. Giuliani especially, was credited to be the single piece of rice that tipped the scale in this momentous moment in the history of criminal justice. After which, Giuliani’s political career began to skyrocket. Despite losing his first election in 1989, he eventually gets elected Mayor of New York in 1993, and then reelected in 1997 to hold the position until 2001.

    During his term as Mayor of New York, Giuliani’s most popular platform was his “toughness on crime.” Such that, the gentrification, revitalization and “clean-up” of New York and significant decrease in crime rates during those heyday years are largely attributed to him. His appointment of NYPD Chief of Police, Bill Bratton also proved effective, and is often the popular topic of business case studies today. Bratton did not resort to brute force alone. In fact, he was said to be data-driven, resourceful and efficient. His non-traditional, out-of-the-box thinking, many would agree, had indeed brought about real, lasting positive change in New York.

    Giuliani was also known for making popular what is known as the “perp walk”, wherein he would orchestrate public arrests, worthy of media frenzies and major headlines, of high-profile suspects, usually of white-collar crimes. The nature of these arrests garnered some criticism of course, but it was not enough then to tarnish his image and push him far away from the good graces of the American people, especially New Yorkers. He is also highly commended for his post-9/11 (2001) disaster responses and was even knighted by Queen Elizabeth II for these tremendous efforts. He was even named TIME magazine's Person of the Year in 2001.

 Fall from Grace   

    However, fast forward years later to now 2020, many of Giuliani’s constituents and longtime supporters who once held “America’s Mayor” of the highest esteem, often say that the Rudy Giuliani of the past is long gone. Embroiled in various controversies and investigations, not to mention issues that involve being President Trump’s current legal adviser, he has said to have become the very type of white-collar “perps” he used to round up and arrest. It is quite unfortunate, isn’t it, these kind of tragic hero to zero stories. Time is not on his side now, but who knows if there is still a chance for a comeback.

 Rudy Giuliani’s story sounds very familiar.

Rody

    Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in Davao, Philippines to be exact, during the same time that Rudy Giuliani was rising to fame, there lived and breathed another Mayor with a very similar tough guy image – Rodrigo “Rody” Duterte. An attorney as well, he also began his career in the prosecutor’s office.

Photo taken from The New York Times: Rodrigo Duterte posing with an Uzi submachine gun in 1994, when he was mayor of Davao City in the Philippines.

 Duterte Harry

    Duterte “made his bones” by allegedly taking crime into his own hands. Before assuming the Presidency, he was known as the gun-toting, smart-talkin’, fearless and tough Mayor who cleaned up Davao which back then, was supposedly a war-torn region due to the emergence of the New People’s Army (NPA) post Marcos-regime. People nodded in approval because he produced “quick” results.

    If Rudy Giuliani had his Chief of Police, Bill Bratton and the NYPD, Rody Duterte had a comparable squad as well. With the help of his elite unit of police enforcers, coined as the “Davao Death Squad” (DDS), they were able to arrest crime suspects, such as alleged (but non-convicted) drug dealers and petty thieves and parade them throughout the streets, for behold, all to know and see. This sounds like the Filipino version of a perp walk. In extreme cases, sometimes suspects were allegedly found dead in alleys or eskinitas, their bloody bodies mutilated.

     Yet, it could be said that quite a number of Davaoenos, as well as Filipinos beyond the Mindanao region, supported this kind of vigilante method because they felt safer, and they felt that finally, the wheels of justice were turning. To simplify this narrative by using a fictional analogy again, it is the same train of thought on why we have a great admiration for Batman and the like.

     Many believed this was what the Philippines truly needed - a “strongman” to discipline the country, which to be fair, is an idea that can understandably seem like the right and sound solution, given the Philippines’s web of problems. Not many are willing to further dissect, assess and accept what is truly needed to lead the Philippines. Duterte’s notoriety thus gained much popularity, and his savior persona spread like wildfire throughout the country, propelling him to the Presidential seat in 2016.

One-Trick Pony in a Small Pond

    Four years later, come 2020, and here we are, amidst a terrible pandemic with no signs of turning the tide in favor of a victory. I’ve heard one too many times, friends and colleagues say how they despise being a Filipino, and are looking for opportunities to leave and start a new life elsewhere immediately. I can’t say I blame them.

     The once highly respected and beloved Davao Mayor has become the Philippines’s Public enemy number one, for reasons we all know today such as, but not limited to:

Militaristic and shotgun approaches instead of “comprehensive, scientific and systematic policies” to mitigate the pandemic  (Read: Lives vs Livelihood Tradeoff?, August 5, 2020)

Lack of economic and fiscal planning and No transparency on stimulus packages and foreign loans (Read: A Perfect Storm, May 22, 2020)

Preferential treatment towards those in positions of power and unequal application of the law (Read: On lockdown and pushed over the edge, April 30, 2020)

Playing Russian Roulette on community quarantine implementations

Deflecting faults and shortcomings through the “Pasaway citizen” narrative

Demeaning local government leaders/efforts when they come up with their own local initiatives

Putting China’s interests ahead of the Philippines (Read: From Ugly Duckling to Black Swan, April 3, 2020)

And some of the more specific controversies that we can’t help but feel overwhelming emotions for:

Trial of Maria Ressa and his attack on free press and journalism

Shutdown of ABS-CBN which includes 11,000 employees to lose their jobs during a time like this

Inaction of recent PhilHealth scandal

  Perhaps si Mayor should have stayed as Mayor, or perhaps evolved to a different role beyond public service, instead of eyeing gargantuan tasks too big for him to handle. He may have been “effective” as Davao’s Mayor, but running a country is a whole different ballgame.

     It was in fact, the late Miriam Santiago, during the final 2016 Presidential debate held in Dagupan, Pangasinan (April 24, 2016) who pointed out, “We are not choosing a manager, administrator, etc. We are choosing the next President of the Philippines for the next 6 years.“ She even went on to enumerate three minimum criteria that a President must have in his or her arsenal in order to effectively lead, such as “1) Academic Excellence; 2) Professional Excellence, and 3) Moral Integrity” – all of which majority Filipinos flippantly shrugged off as useless qualities. I agreed with her which is why I voted for Mar Roxas. Maybe those who voted for Duterte regret this decision now, and hopefully see the wisdom behind Santiago’s statements.

     As I’ve said many times over, Duterte peddled a dream that the Philippines can only be great again with an “iron-fisted” leader, and sadly but quite expectedly, our misinformed voters ate it all up - hook, line and sinker. (Read: ORAS NA, April 26, 2016).

    I’d like to believe that Duterte perhaps started out as an idealist, with the genuine desire to carve out change where he thought he could. However, somewhere along the way, he lost himself and what he stood for when he let his ego get in the way. I think he himself now knows, but cannot admit to the public, that a one-trick pony has no business leading a highly complex, difficult and problematic country such as the Philippines.

More Analogies in 2020: The Year of the Rat led by the Pied Piper

    Other than Duterte, three other political personalities that will forever be remembered as the shameful faces of the COVID-19 situation in the Philippines are Presidential spokesperson Harry Roque, Speaker of the House Allan Peter Cayetano and the ever-infamous, Department of Health Secretary Francisco Duque. I surmise history will not be so kind to them, and their roles and decisions in this crisis will continue to be told on, even when “this is all over.”

Infestation of Rats

    These three loyal lackeys of Duterte can be likened to the rats in the children’s fairy tale of the Pied Piper who is no less than Duterte. Roque, Cayetano and Duque seem like educated and smart people, leaving no other explanation for their horrible decisions, except that they have long sold their souls to Duterte, and are in too deep to back out now. They’ve let themselves fall under some kind of spell. A consolation in the story of the Pied Piper, is that the entranced rats follow the Pied Piper’s hypnotizing music to their eventual demise and drown at sea. The Pied Piper however, just leaves them there and walks on. Seems like a foreboding scenario, figuratively speaking.

      It would be best if the story ended there. However, we find that the Pied Piper, like our very own version, is a vengeful one, and will stop at nothing until he has accomplished a personal vendetta towards whomever crosses him. In our Pied Pier’s skewed view, he feels that his opponents have gravely wronged him, or have been incredibly ungrateful for all the “work” he has achieved. His next plan of action is to hit them where it hurts the most – by getting to the children or those “most vulnerable and without a voice”. Seizing the power of his position, he is able to demonize multitudes through his filthy words, terrorizing laws and drug wars. (Read: Dead Kids, February 20, 2020).

     In so many dark metaphors, in the dead of the night, while everyone cluelessly sleeps, the Pied Piper plays his hypnotizing song that “vulnerable communities” are uncontrollably drawn to, forced to follow, or fooled into blindly following, until they all disappear without a trace, possibly never to be found again.

Light at the end of a Long Tunnel    

    However, I think our Pied Piper may have made a costly miscalculation. He may have robbed the country blind and killed countless lives (directly and indirectly), while we ignorantly slept, but he has ignited a fire. He has seemed to awoken a sleeping giant – a sleeping giant, unified in anger against this administration and what it stands for. Is Change Coming?

[alphawave-writes]

It’s lonely at the top--Sigma x Dr. Harold Winston

Synopsis: Sigma explores his past as he remembers the love that blossoms between him and Dr Harold Winston, the one man in the universe that understands him, and shares in his loneliness.

Read it here, or on AO3. Read my other Sigma fanfic series, ‘the Universe sings’, here

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Siebren didn’t recall the first time he met Harold Winston, but he certainly remembered the second time. They apparently met once back on earth, when Siebren was petitioning for funding by the other scientific companies. Harold was in the background during the video call when Siebren was campaigning to join Lucheng Interstellar’s then-brand new mission, but he never spoke. In a sense, their real first meeting was later, up on the surface of the moon. He remembered when the spaceship propelled him out of the atmosphere and into the inky depths of space, him and a few Lucheng Interstellar astronauts buckled up in the typical astronaut gear. The others were only there to monitor the progress of the space station. None of them had the twinkle of wonder in their eyes. None of them looked upon the stars in utter amazement like Siebren did. They didn’t think of this trip as a step forward to understanding the world. It wasn’t too surprising that he did not make friends with them.

As he first stepped foot on Horizon Lunar Colony, went through the standard decompression procedure that he’d been taught and retaught thousands of times, he was ashamed to admit that his thoughts were not on his research or the stars beyond but on the academic worth of his new peers. It was a condition of his contract that he collaborated with the other researchers on a paper. He had never met the staff of Horizon before today. Time will tell whether his months here will be fruitful or pointless.

At the entrance to the main section of the colony stood a single man. He’s roughly Siebren’s age, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. If the horrendous five o’clock shadow and white lab coat didn’t prove to Siebren that he was a researcher, the way the other astronauts shoved past the man proved it.

He wiped his coat down, frowning as the other astronauts went off on their own accord. It took him a second to realise that Siebren had stayed behind, staring at the walls and ceiling. He pushed up his glasses with his left hand, extending his right in greeting. “S-sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I’m Dr. Harold Winston. You must be Dr. Siebren de Kuiper, right? It’s an honour to have you here.”

Siebren took the offered hand and shook firmly. He’s mildly surprised by the strength in the man’s grip, but didn’t remark upon it. “Not the friendliest bunch, are they.”

“No, not really.” Harold glanced left and right before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Keep this between you and me, but they’re pissed at me for what I did last time.”

“What did you do?”

“The last time they came over, I had just finished administering the gene therapy treatment to Specimen 8. They were only here to check the base’s integrity, same like today, only one gentlemen in that group was not an animal fan, and the other specimens could smell it. I turned my head, and in that moment Specimen 8 had escaped from its cage and ran up the guy’s pants and…well…let’s just say it wasn’t a very pleasant place to bite.” Harold smirked. “Or at least, I told them Specimen 8 escaped from its cage.”

Siebren laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He’d laugh longer, but Harold suddenly put his hand on his mouth, muffling him. The Lucheng astronauts return, scowling at Harold before continuing onward. He wasn’t sure if it was out of the suddenness of the action, or whether it’s the latent stages of space adaptation syndrome, but all he could focus on was the skin on his lips, impossibly warm and soft.

Long after the astronauts have left, the hand is still over his mouth. If he squinted, Harold’s eyes looked cloudy and unfocused, a flame rekindled after months of winter.

Harold blinked rapidly, and the flame was gone. He took a step back, then another, wiping his hand hastily on his coat. “S-sorry,” he smiled nervously. “It gets a bit lonely up here.”

There was more to Harold’s words, but Siebren didn’t call Harold out on it. He forced himself to smile politely. “I’ll forgive you if you give me the grand tour. I’ve only heard wonderful things about this facility and the research your team have been doing.”

In all of Siebren’s life, he had never seen someone smile so brightly.

Harold led him around the base, making sure to stop by all the important areas. They walked past the laboratories, the simian’s centre, the hydroponics centre, and the garage where they stored their moon rovers, to name just a few. As they moved on, Harold spoke less about the Colony and his team’s research, and more about his fondness for the subjects.. Any other time Siebren might have been annoying, but Harold’s face lit up, and he spoke like he was singing his praises to the gods, and Siebren found that he was enraptured entirely. As they passed by a particularly sunny window, Siebren swore that Harold glowed.

It’s in the final stretches to the sleeping quarters that Siebren was finally able to put a word in. He tried his best to remain stoic and impassive—he had to prove himself as a reputable scientist after all—but one glance at the stars outside and soon he was waxing poetic about the mysteries of the universe. There was passion in his voice, so desperate to be unleashed from its cage that it spilled eagerly down his lips.

He only caught himself when they came to a stop in front of what Siebren assumed to be his new sleeping quarters. A piece of notepaper was stuck in front of the door, his name lovingly written in blue marker.

“You really do love space, don’t you?” Harold remarked.

Siebren cleared his throat loudly. It wasn’t enough to stop the heat rising from his cheeks. He could imagine the face his mother would make if she was here, seeing him blush like a schoolgirl.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He walked two steps backward to his own sleeping quarters, directly opposite Siebren’s. “If you are half as enthusiastic for your research, I think we can do great things together.”

“You’re…you’re sure about that?”

“I’m serious. All the other scientists here, they’re passionate about their work, but they don’t see the beauty in the world beyond. You and I might be the only ones that understand that.” He gestured to his door. “You ever want or need anything, I’m right here.”

Another time, Siebren might have told Harold the same. At that moment however, he was overwhelmed by a strange heat growing within his chest. He retreated into his quarters, unpacked the few things he had been allowed to take onboard, and lied down on his bed, staring into the ceiling until the heat dissipated into the air.

He spared no thought for the people he left behind on earth. They didn’t hold a candle to the enigmatic Dr. Harold Winston.

The other scientists at Horizon were certainly smart and polite, but Siebren was closest to Harold by far. In the laboratory, they worked together with ease, ideas and discussions rattling off at rapid speed. They never stopped talking to each other, and when they did, that was only because they were apart. Many of the scientists joked that they were boyfriends, but Harold never took offense, and if Siebren was being totally honest, neither did he. He had never connected with another person as well as he did with Dr. Harold Winston. It didn’t matter what people thought. All that mattered was that he found someone like him, who appreciated his eccentricities and passions.

Evidently, Harold thought the same way. The distance between the two of them grew shorter with every rotation of the Earth's axis.

It was but a natural progress that they began to visit each other in their private quarters. Harold was an avid reader, obsessed with all forms and genres of literature. In his room he has crafted a makeshift bookshelf where he kept the physical copies, hidden away from sight. Physical books could be a dangerous weapon in the simians’ hands, and thus it was considered contraband. In response to learning this secret, Siebren revealed his own secret collection: a digital stockpile of every single song and album he had ever heard in his life, stored in a tiny USB, and a pair of ear buds, smuggled in a microscopic slit in his suitcase.

Bonds are forged over secrets, and thus they grew closer still. In the nighttime, when all the other scientists are asleep, Harold would creep over to Siebren’s door and knock in a precise pattern: two knocks in rapid succession, a pause, one knock, another pause, two quick knocks. Siebren would open the door and silently hand one of the earbuds over. Harold would always put it in his left ear, Siebren placing his in his right ear. They’d curl up together in a tiny beanbag chair, the only place that the desk lamp would reach, and Harold would open up the book he had chosen for that night.

Some nights Harold would read out loud, his voice a quiet harmony. Other nights he’d remain silent, reading in peace. A few rare occasions in those silent moments, Siebren took the book from Harold’s hands and read in his place. He wasn’t used to reading out loud, stumbling over his words every now and then, his voice harsh and abrasive like sandpaper, but Harold listened to him anyway with rapturous attention.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to fall asleep in those moments, nestled into each other, like the world didn’t matter. Like the universe was made for the two of them alone.

The holiday season came. All of the other scientists had exited the space station. It was standard practice to let the majority of the scientists go home for the holidays. The base was well equipped with enough autonomous robots to maintain the base while everyone was away but Siebren and Harold chose to stay behind. They sat in the break room, alone, listless. Two empty mugs sat in front of them on the table. A recent batch of eggs sent from the sister base some kilometres away meant that they had the means to make something that tasted like eggnog. It was a pity they didn’t allow alcohol up here. Siebren could make a pretty decent advocaat with the ingredients on hand.

It made sense for Siebren to stay behind. His contract specifically stated he remained on Horizon until the end of his six months contract, which will terminate on Valentine’s day. As for Harold’s reason of staying behind, it remained a mystery. Even though microgravity was all but terminated at the moon base, standard practice was that astronauts and scientists stayed for a year maximum. From what Siebren gathered, Harold had been here for two years.

He’d say something, but an unknown tension grew between them. It was palpable and malleable, so thick that Siebren could taste it in the air. Harold was avoiding his gaze, adjusting his glasses nervously, but if Siebren were to turn his head away, he could feel Harold’s eyes roaming over his body.

With everyone gone, something between them had changed.

“You have family?” Harold asked.

Siebren blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry?”

“I just…I never asked. You know,” he gestured at the Christmas decorations. “Thought today of all days would be a good time.”

Siebren glanced down at his hands folded over his lap. His Christmas playlist chimed over the speakers, but it didn’t give him any comfort. “In terms of immediate family, I only have my mother. I’ve got cousins and nephews and nieces, but they’re scattered across the globe.” He poured himself another cup of eggnog. “I haven’t seen any of them in seven years. Almost exactly seven years, now that I think about it. Our last big family gathering was last Christmas back in Den Haag, crowding together for some gourmetten.”

“No one else in your life?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve been too busy with my career. The universe’s mysteries have still yet to be seen to mankind, and I will not rest until I find it. I never had the time or interest in romance.” He glanced at Harold. “You?”

A sad look passed over Harold’s eyes and faded away like a comet. “A sister. She lives in Lijiang with her family. We weren’t close though. If I went down to Earth today, she won’t be there to see me.”

Siebren frowned. “No partner yourself?”

“I never found the one. Tried for the better half of my twenties, and when I found failure after failure, I…well, I just kinda gave up. By the time I decided to get back on the saddle, no one wanted a greying, middle aged man like myself.”

“I find that hard to believe. You look rather handsome for your age, and I can only imagine you were equally as attractive when you were younger.” Siebren quickly waved a hand over his face. “Not that I’m the best judge of beauty myself.”

Siebren didn’t know if he imagined the reddish tint on Harold’s cheeks. “Guess I haven’t found anyone that appreciates me yet.” He shook his head, a bittersweet smile forced upon his lips. “At least I’ve got a new family here with the primates. Who needs a partner when you’ve got thirty children?”

The look flashed over Harold’s eyes again, and this time Siebren understood what it meant. “Are you lonely, Harold?”

“L-Lonely?”

“Yes, lonely,” Siebren frowned. “You’ve never mentioned anyone back on Earth until now, and I don’t see you talk to the others on your team all that often.”

Harold shrunk in his seat. Siebren sighed, rising from his seat to approach him. He was significantly taller than Harold, but staring down at him like this, he looked weak and wanting. He didn’t know what force compelled him to run his hand down Harold’s scalp, but he didn’t fight it. A microcosm of emotions breathed out from Harold’s lips; desire and hurt and hesitation fighting for dominance. They looked into each other’s eyes, saw the universe reflected back, and it’s divinely beautiful, escaping all other description.

“Harold,” Siebren started then paused. His heartbeat hammered in his ears, a frantic rhythm that threatened to drown out all sound. He let out a quiet breath. “I’m lonely too.”

Harold pulled Siebren’s hand down so it was now cupping his face. He leant into it, his eyes fluttering. “You too?”

Siebren nodded. “Men of science like us, we seek the mysteries of the world before us because we are in love with it. We hear the melodies the universe sings for us, and we transcribe it, because we want it to be a love song. It’s confusing, time-consuming, and very very lonely, but we wouldn’t love it if it weren’t all these things.”

“Love?” Harold’s eyes widen.

Siebren smiled. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?”

Harold didn’t respond in words. He removed his glasses with one hand, flicked his eyes up to Siebren’s lips, and before he could react, Harold kissed him with the force of a black hole. He was sucked in, pulled in by the gravitational attraction of Harold’s lips, density and mass colliding together with wondrous force.

 And then, just as suddenly it appeared, the force disappeared. Their combined breaths melted into stardust. They stared at each other, aware in that moment of the Earth reflected in their eyes, big yet small, significant and insignificant.

Harold retreated, pushing himself away from the table and, indirectly, from Siebren. He quickly put his glasses back on, adjusting them with shaky hands. “S-sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“L-likewise for myself.” Siebren cleared his throat.

Logic would dictate that the moment they shared was an outlier, threatening to corrupt the fabric of their bond. Relationships were messy and required far too much effort, Siebren thought, but then he saw the prism of the Milky Way in Harold’s eyes and wondered if perhaps he required further experiments with the other tools at his disposal. A kiss on the lips is one thing, but what about the caress of a hand, or the whisper to an ear?

Siebren shook his head violently, but it was too late. It was Harold Winston’s life to be exceptionally observant in shifts of behavior. Siebren was transparent, his inner thoughts printed in black and white across his face.

“Dr. de Kuiper…Siebren…you feel the same way, don’t you?”

“Any other time, I would deny this, but in the interest of transparency…yes. I think so.”

Harold nodded vacantly. “A relationship wouldn’t work. You’ll be leaving soon, and I’ll remain up here. The subjects need a familiar face. If I do go down to earth, it won't be for long.” He smiled weakly. “Pretty sure long-distance relationships never had the impassable distance of space to deal with.”

“Harold,” Siebren said forcefully, causing Harold to stiffen in surprise. His face softened. “Tell me the truth. Do you want to pursue a relationship with me?”

Harold paused for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.” He didn’t dare look up at Siebren.

Siebren let out a quiet breath. With as much discipline he could muster, he grabbed his chair and pulled it close to Harold, sitting down. He took Harold’s hands into his own, thumbs tracing planetary orbits. He’d never knew or cared about romance, and now suddenly confronted with this possibility, he wished that he did care, if only so he wouldn’t be at a complete loss like he was now. Research required references and accounts, a base in existing literature to form new ideas and discoveries, but Siebren had none to reliably depend on. What reference was there for this, the bond they shared, the gravity that pulled them together?

“I don’t know how long it will last, but I will give it a try,” Siebren rubbed the back of his head. “Even if I have absolutely no idea how I should behave in a relationship.”

Harold laughed quietly, his nerves dissipating. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since working here, society’s rules don’t matter here. Up here, the politics and squabbles of earth don't matter anymore.” He leaned forward, the flash of flames in his eyes, a mark of his desire. “I know exactly when the new crew will arrive. We’ve got about 36 hours, give and take.”

“Oh?” Sigma’s eyes widen. “Oh! Uh…OK. Here or…?” He glanced around their surroundings.

“Probably somewhere comfier than here. I mean, unless I totally misinterpreted that and you don’t want to…well…” Harold chuckled nervously. “I just realized how forward that sounded. We can take things slow. I'll honestly be happy with whatever you're happy with.”

Siebren couldn’t help but smile. Wordlessly they stood up, the two of them staring at their conjoined hands. Atoms split apart, forming heat and light where their palms touched. Their thoughts fused together, brain waves synchronizing as an image floated above. It was the two of them, lying side by side on Siebren’s bed, mapping out the stars with their fingertips. Galaxies blossomed with their kisses, the whole expanse of space to explore within the boundaries of a King-sized bed. They look up at each other and knew in that moment that they had found the one. They walked over to the sleeping quarters, hand in hand, safe in the knowledge that, at least for a little while, there was one more person in their small, solitary world that understood them.

The man known as Sigma flies alone up to Horizon Lunar Colony. It’s been at least a decade, but upon arrival, he notices that nothing has changed in this place. The walls are still that familiar off-white. The moon outside the base is still inviting. The telescope still reaches out for Earth like an outstretched hand, asking for a dance. It’s beautiful, but there’s a staleness to the air, the smell of decay and abandonment. No longer can he hear the hoots and grunts of the chimpanzees, the squeaks of the hamster, or the grunts of the gorillas. The buzzing sounds of the speakers are gone, replaced with a single tone.

Fragmented memories resurface, of the research he performed, of the opportunities he acquired, but most of all on the romance that died in the outer reaches of space. Harold had joked they were star-crossed lovers in a more literal of the word. That was not too long before the fatal incident. Siebren remembered the horror he felt, guilt and regret dunking his face in cold water. He had planned to meet Harold when he touched down on Earth, two weeks after. He had planned to ask Harold if he was willing to take the next step in their relationship. His mother had gifted Siebren his father’s old engagement ring, her silent blessing.

No one could have predicted the animal uprising. Not even sweet, kind Harold, the one person who genuinely cared for the gorillas as living beings and not as test subjects.

Sigma frowns, letting the memories wash away. He cannot let himself get lost to sentimentality. He’s here for one purpose only. He’s here on a mission.

The gravity programs have malfunctioned, bringing back the microgravity of the moon, but Sigma’s powers prove to be beneficial. He walks, not floats, past the entrance hallway, past the break rooms, and enters the laboratory area.

He finds them there, floating near the corner of the laboratory. Papers float in perfect position around them, some scientific in nature, others more intimate passages meant for private eyes. There’s writing on every single piece of paper, starting messy and illegible on the left, before becoming more clear and distinct. Purple veins crept up their skin, tufts of hair sticking out in uncomfortable angles.

Sigma clears his throat loudly, and they turn to him, eyes wide and animalistic. He sees that even their face is distorted and pale, an oxygen mask hiding their nose and lips, the tube winding round their neck and leading down to a makeshift backpack that’s constantly extracting the air and pumping it, purifying it.

“How did you get here?” The voice croaked, barely audible from behind the mask.

Sigma frowns. “I was sent to rescue you. I’ve come to take you back down to Earth.”

They float up to him, propelling forward by the microgravity before pulling to a stop on the table. Sigma waves his hands and they gently fall down, standing on normal gravity. They look up to him, a flash of recognition passing over their eyes like a comet. “Siebren?”

“It’s Sigma now. The man you knew as Siebren de Kuiper is long gone now.”

“He’s not there?” They point at his forehead.

 “Bits and pieces, struggling to remain together.” Sigma frowns, as Siebren’s memories return. “I made the same mistake you did. I didn’t double check my math, and I paid the price.”

“And Subject 28?”

“Lived his dreams in Overwatch.”

“Lived?”

“Overwatch is no more. He’s still alive though. Goes by Winston nowadays.”

The figure laughed for a second before coughing violently into their mask. Their eyes smiled. “Of all the names in the world, that’s what he chooses. I should’ve known.”

They start choking suddenly, a horrendous gasp that sounds like the air had turned to poison. Sigma watches as they take a syringe and plunge it into their neck, depressing it right into the carotid artery. The puncture wound heals almost in an instant. Their skin reverts into something that vaguely resembles human flesh.

Sigma takes their hand and slowly leads them out of the laboratory. They’re both wearing gloves, but Sigma still feels the faint heat of their flesh escaping, and the memories flood back. He’s reminded of lonely days in the break room and lonely nights in sleeping quarters, curled up next to someone with a kind face and a kinder heart.

He should consider himself lucky, all things considering. Subject 31, as he’s currently known, has spent years living in complete isolation, the only human contact coming from the Lucheng Intersteller astronauts desperate to find a way to bring him home. The force of gravity is the main issue, the pressure of the spacecraft entering the earth’s atmosphere to high for their fragile body. That is why Talon ordered Sigma to come here and guide him back.

It’s almost cruel how much of their life events intertwine, like the universe is playing games to pull them apart and bring them back together again.

“Where are you taking me?” They ask.

Sigma turns to them, trying his hardest not to smile. It’s difficult, though. Even after all this time, even though his mind is fragile and memories are splintered, a familiar warmth creeps down his chest. “Home, Harold. I’m taking you home.”

There’s a cough, and then a weak laugh. “It’s been so long. I cannot recall how long I’ve been waiting for today.” He turns to Sigma, a smile hidden beneath his mask. “If you’re no longer Siebren, I’m allowed to give myself a new name.”

Siebren laughed quietly. “Then what’s your name now?”

“I’m rather a fan of Tristan, actually.”

“From Tristan and Iseult?”

They shrugged, grinning with their eyes. “I always liked a good story. Even the ones that end in tragedy.”

Sigma can feel years and years of lost and yearning resurface in their eyes, twinkling with the brightness of the North star. It’s the same person underneath that mask, the same brilliant man with a heart as big as the universe. It’s poetic that they find each other again, after years of loneliness. They did once before, and they have done it again today. They cannot escape the black hole that pulls them together, distorting time and space and matter. They always find a way back to each other.

Sigma squeezes his hand tightly. The man now known as Tristan squeezes back. “Let’s go home, Siebren.”

Sigma nods. “We’ve both got a lot of catching up to do, Harold.”

“I can’t wait.”

The entire trip to the spacecraft, they walked hand in hand, afraid that if they let go, they’ll be all alone again, trapped in their gilded cages.

[snarkysims]

This is a J&J-centric post, so it’s long. Grab your favorite beverage.

Jerilene was thrilled that Jonathan had hitched a ride with Cleo to make the forty-five minute trip from the University to visit her. She would be leaving in three days, so she treasured every minute she had with him. She reveled in his hug and wanted to imprint its feeling on her mind.  She hated to leave the comfort of his strong arms, so she was highly irritated when Circe barged in to pick yet another fight.  

Jerilene could feel Jonathan’s intense stare, but she refused to meet his gaze. She knew he hated fighting, and she sensed his eyes were silently pleading with her to be the bigger person and walk away.  But Jerilene couldn’t do that. She would put little Circe in her place for once and for all even if it upset her tenderhearted boyfriend.

She loved Jonathan deeply and he was convinced they were soulmates, but it didn’t mean their relationship was perfect. They had their pain points, and her temper was one of them. He thought she fought too much, and she thought he fought too little. She admired him for his patience and for his ability to forgive quickly. Their relationship probably wouldn’t have survived had he lacked those qualities, because she could hold a grudge with the best of them. She thanked her stars everyday that he hadn’t given up on her back in Sophomore year when she had spent weeks giving him the silent treatment.

She was no longer like that with him since they’d become a couple. She trusted him and felt safe showing him her softer side. They’d grown much closer since she opened up to him, and he often encouraged her to show that softer side to others. So she let a few more people in. Jonathan, Everson, Patty, Shonice, Jin-Sang, and now Eric were her circle. She had their backs and knew they had hers. She respected Eric’s judgment, so it was only a matter of time before she would come to trust his fiancee Natalia too. 

But some people she would never let in.

Circe topped that list. Jerilene didn’t trust the girl farther than she could throw her. Jonathan thought their feud was silly. They were grown women behaving like they were still in middle school. Not to mention that Jerilene lived with a police officer who could arrest her on assault charges and who also happened to be Circe’s boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now. Jonathan marveled at how his girlfriend could be so reckless.

Did Jonathan really think she would fight Circe over something trivial? It always surprised Jerilene that her boyfriend could read people and social situations so well, yet he was clueless when it came to thirsty females.  They had to practically grab him by the goods, like Alanna had nearly done Junior Year, before he realized their intentions.

But most girls weren’t like Alanna. They were subtle, and Jonathan often didn’t see it. He missed the signs that Circe gave him when she first moved into Courtyard at the beginning of Junior Year. Shonice and Jin-Sang sure didn’t miss the signs, though, and they let Jerilene know what Circe was up to. Jerilene was ready to storm over to the dorm and drag Circe by her braids, but Circe soon started dating Mark, so Jerilene let it drop. 

But since she and Circe had moved into the same apartment building, things between them had deteriorated. It started with the little glares and eye rolls that Circe didn’t realize Jerilene had seen. Then it was the snide, under-the-breath comments Circe made when she passed Jonathan and Jerilene in the hallway or in the common areas. Jerilene got fed up one day and asked Circe what her problem was. From there, it escalated to insults and shoves. 

Then, Circe had the audacity to mess with Everson and Patty, Jerilene’s two closest friends aside from Jonathan. That was when Jerilene lost it. She and Circe got into a cat fight, complete with scratching and hair pulling. Jerilene’s fantasy came true when she snatched two of Circe’s braids out of the girl’s head. Jerilene taped to her bedroom wall, the perfect display of her spoils of war. 

Jerilene’s knees went weak as Jonathan kissed her slowly up her arm. He thought he was being smooth in trying to distract her. He knew that drove her wild.  It certainly was a welcome distraction. Though they had only been “official” for two years, they’d been together much longer. He knew her inside and out, especially which buttons to press to get her hot. But even her sexy boyfriend wouldn’t stop her from settling the score with Circe today. Jerilene continued to fume about the annoying girl even while Jonathan worked his magic.

Jonathan was horrified to see Jerilene and Circe attack each other. He was torn between his concern for his girlfriend’s well-being and his frustration with her obstinacy. Fights happened more often in Sapphire Springs than Jonathan cared to acknowledge. He would often excuse himself from these situations, but this fight was obviously different. Whether he agreed with her or not, he’d stay by Jerilene’s side. They weren’t even engaged yet, but he already took “for better or for worse” seriously.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to watch the altercation, so he covered his eyes and prayed for Jerilene. 

Jerilene was victorious, and Circe slunk away sheepishly. Jonathan hoped Circe would honor her word to stay away from Jerilene. As much as he’d miss Jerilene while she was on tour, he was grateful that it would put distance between her and Circe. This would be the last fight between these two.  When Jerilene returned from tour, she would not be returning to this living situation if he had anything to say about it. 

After Circe left, Jerilene finally turned to Jonathan. His body was rigid. He tried to maintain a neutral gaze, but Jerilene could see the disappointment and hurt in his eyes. He hadn’t approved of what had just gone down, but he bit the inside of his cheeks to fight his inclination to lecture and patronize. 

She closed the gap between them and took his hand. She kissed his chin, and he let out the breath he had been holding. She continued kissing up his jawline, and his body became more relaxed with each kiss.  When she reached his earlobe, she gave it a little nibble. Jonathan gasped and turned his face towards hers. His blue eyes had gone dark with desire. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. He pressed his body to hers so that she could feel the effect of what her kisses had done to him. Jerilene chuckled to herself. Yes, her man would never comprehend the concept of subtlety, but she was pleased that she knew his buttons as well as he knew hers.

Their eyes met again. She offered a silent apology with hers. He acknowledged and accepted it with his. He planted a kiss on her forehead before bringing his forehead to hers.

They could frustrate each other to the point of exhaustion, but they always came back together. Their time apart would be a challenge, but they both vowed to not let it break them.

They would be okay.

Their quiet moment together was shattered by a commotion stirring on the playground. Jerilene turned her gaze toward it. She could hear several voices shouting. No doubt Circe had found another target for her ire. If someone in Jerilene’s circle was being attacked, she needed to be there. Her legs were ready to propel her forward.  She looked up at Jonathan pleadingly. He sighed, rolled his eyes heavenward, but nodded resolutely. With a final squeeze of her hand, he let her go. He watched her braids fly behind her as she ran to the playground. He would join her once his body had cooled down. 

They might never agree on how much or how little the other should fight. But they could agree that the people they loved, especially each other, were always worth fighting for.

***

All of the interactions here were autonomous because I wasn’t controlling J&J or Circe at the time. But @ladyroro88​ recently released a posebox with a pose of a couple standing forehead to forehead. Since it matched my words perfectly, I had to include it at the end there.

[unsinkablememorys]

Movie vs. Reality: "Titanic" (1997)

I was asked about how close James Cameron's version of Titanic came to the actual event, so here goes.... (I hope I got everything and will try to get them in order as they appear in the movie.)

Titanic: Movie vs. Reality

First off, let's get that crappy love story out of the way: The love story between Jack & Rose was based on the true life First Class couple Isadore & Ida Straus.

There was a Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt who married in 1914. However, the real Mr. Dawson would have been traveling First Class, neither were on Titanic, and they did not meet at sea.

Most of what was found in the safe at the beginning of the movie would have been long gone by the time it was found.

The sun was not shining in Southampton on April 10th, 1912. There was complete overcast.

Titanic was nicknamed "Ship of Dreams".

The big celebration at the docks: Titanic wasn't really a big deal. That was Olympic, the year before.

Tickets won in a card game: This actually happened, though the players' names and nationalities are not known.

"God, Himself can not sink this ship" : Yeah... People actually said that and they actually believed it...

There were 10 dogs on board. Only 3 survived.

Margaret Brown was never called "Molly" in her lifetime. Her friends called her "Maggie". She boarded at Queenstown, Ireland, not Cherbourg, France, as Rose claimed.

Given the strict rules of separation, it is highly unlikely Jack and Rose would have ever met. Many of the places they went, no passengers would have been allowed to go.

The "Heart of the Ocean" is based on a real necklace worn by a first class survivor called the "Sapphire of the Sea".

Every single person Rose mentioned was a first class passenger in real life. However, Mrs. Madeline Astor was not Rose's age. Rose was 17, while Mrs. Astor was 19.

Ruth referred to Jack as "steerage". This term was not used on Titanic. The  poorest people on board were called "Third Class".

Everyone being annoyed by Molly Brown's presence: This is true. She wasn't born into money and didn't always follow the rules of Society, so many of the first class passengers detested her.

Sunday Service led by the captain: This happened on the morning of April 14th. However, Jack would not have been kept from the service. It was open to all classes.

The hymn they were singing was actually sang during the service on the ship.

Tours of the ship: This did happen, but unlike in the movie, Captain Smith never called Harold Bride "Sparks". He called him by his name.

"Speed up and arrive a day early" : This likely never happened. Titanic wasn't built for speed, J. Bruce Ismay was simply a passenger, and White Star Line's motto was "Slow and Easy". That being said, it's not likely the company chairman would have insisted on speeding up.

Second Officer Charles Lightoller concerned about the lookouts not having binoculars: This really was a concern he brought to the captain's attention.

There wasn't a Jack Dawson on board. There was a Jay Dawson in First Class. He travelled alone, kept to himself, and died in the sinking. He traded his Mauritania ticket for Titanic because he wanted E. J. Smith for his captain. There was also a trimmer named Joseph Dawson. He was lost in the sinking.

"Iceberg, right ahead!": This isn't what was actually said. Lookout Frederick Fleet wasn't panicking and he calmly said, "Ice, dead ahead of us, sir." He actually thought they'd missed it, at first.

The ship really did hit the iceberg on First Officer William Murdoch's watch and the orders he gave were the same in the movie. James Cameron's version probably came closest to the true reactions of those on the Bridge at that time. The boiler room scenes were pretty accurate.

The meeting between J. Bruce Ismay, Thomas Andrews, & Captain Smith did happen much as portrayed.

People were playing with the ice and a few people fell when it happened.

The wireless operators really weren't surprised when they were told of the situation and told to send out CQD. Both had premonitions about the sinking. Knowing Californian was nearby and expecting her to answer, they joked about the officers being incompetent.

All the orders given to the officers were correct.

Second Officer Lightoller asking if it was time to fill the boats: He did this. Captain Smith said it was women and children first, but Officer Lightoller heard women and children only. He really did refuse to let any male 12 or older into the boats.

There really was a dispute between J. Bruce Ismay and  Second Officer Lightoller.

After Thomas Andrews realized that the boats were leaving less than half empty, he did confront Second Officer Lightoller, who then began filling them about halfway to capacity.

"And the band played on..." : Yes, they did - for two hours and ten minutes. They played ragtime until most of the boats were gone, and they began to play hymns.

"Maybe you should try sending SOS. It's the new distress call, and it could be your last chance to send it." : The actual words said by Harold Bride to Jack Phillips. Everyone laughed. He later said those words, "It could be your last chance to send it" haunted him for the rest of his life.

SOS was not new. It had always been the standard call for distress. The Marconi Company came up with CQD ("ATTENTION ALL STATIONS: WE ARE IN DISTRESS"). After the sinking, CQD was dropped completely.

Some third class passengers waited around while, others just took the corridors.

There was a Syrian family traveling in Third Class, represented by a Muslim family in the movie. None of them survived and only one member, a small child was found.

A few passengers broke down a locked door to free a fellow passenger. They were told they would have to pay for it.

"Mr. Lowe, man this boat." : Second Officer Lightoller said this to Fifth Officer Harold Godfrey Lowe after threatening men with an unloaded gun. After being told to do so himself, Second Officer Lightoller replied, "Not damn likely!", and told  Fifth Officer Lowe to take his place.

Fifth Officer Lowe did fire three shots in the air to warn the men attempting to board boat #14 to steer clear.

No passengers were shot and First Officer Murdoch didn't shoot himself. He was last seen throwing deck chairs into the water and was most likely washed overboard.

Thomas Andrews was asked by a passenger what was really going on. His last known whereabouts aren't really known, but it's widely believed he was washed overboard from the Bridge area.

"We are dressed in our best and prepared to go down like gentleman." : Part of Benjamin Guggenheim's last speech. I think the rest should have been included: "But if anything should happen to me, please let my wife know that I behaved decently, and that no woman or child was left on this ship because Benjamin Guggenheim was a coward."

The woman asking what happened was Second Class Passenger Mrs. Nellie Becker. She and her three children survived.

"Everyone up, life belts on!" : That's basically how those in Third Class were told to get up.

First and Second Class were told to dress warmly and go to the Boat Deck.

"Daddy, get into the boat!" "It's goodbye for a little while.  Only for a little while. There'll be another boat for the daddies. This boat is only for the mommies and the children. Now, you hold Mommy's hand and be a good little girl." : The last conversation between seven year old Second Class Passenger Ava Hart and her father.

The abandoned child: There were a few. At least two of them survived, at least three did not.

The last song played was "Autumn". Only those who got away on the first few boats heard "Nearer, My God, to Thee".

Second Officer Lightoller was washed overboard and took cammand of Collapsible B, saving 36 of the 41 men who made it to the boat.

J. Bruce Ismay didn't "sneak" into a lifeboat. He was ordered into Collapsible C.

Collapsible A was swamped.

Collapsible B fell upside down onto the deck with Harold Bride trapped under it. He survived by climbing on to it. Some of the crew helping to release Collapsible B simply jumped on to it.

The elderly couple were the Isador and Ida Straus. They chose to die together over getting separated. They were last seen at the stern.

"Is there any room in the boat for a gentleman, gentlemen?" : The last words Madeline Astor heard her husband say. He was later offered a place in a boat, but sent a woman and her young daughter in his place.

Many people were caught by the funnel.

"Music to drown by! Now I know I'm in First Class!" : They changed it a little. When the band began to play, Harold Bride said, "Will you listen to that? They're playing music for us to drown by. We're finally getting the first class treatment we deserve." Jack Phillips responded, "They're now offering dance lessons on the main deck and swimming lessons in the grand ballroom."

There were children mesmerized by the distress rockets.

The distress rockets were seen by the officers on Californian, but basically ignored.

Harold Bride did tell Captain Smith that Carpathia was the closest ship that was answering and would take four hours to reach them.

People were running towards the stern.

Californian can be seen in the background. This is historically accurate and shouldn't be considered a mistake. Californian was believed to be around ten miles away and the officers saw each other's ships.

Captain Smith was last seen in the area of the Bridge. He was asked by two women where to go, but unlike the movie, he helped them. He didn't seem to be in shock.

First Officer Murdoch was letting men into the boats when no women or children were around.

There was a man injured by the propellers. He was lost.

Myths and Misconceptions:

There was no bunker fire.

Olympic and Titanic were not switched. Olympic was 500 miles away when she got Titanic's distress call and began racing to the scene. She was 100 miles away, when she got Carpathia's message, warning her to "steer clear and continue on original course".

The wireless operators weren't crew members, they were contracted to the lines. They had only one thing in common with the crew : A mutual distain for each other.

Third Class passengers were not "locked in."

There were claims of a dead child being handed to Second Officer Lightoller. This is a myth. No one swam out to Collapsible B with a child of any age, neither dead nor alive.

Molly Brown did not try to take over her boat, but she did give the men a hard time. The woman next to her with the baby is believed to be the Allison nanny, Alice Cleaver. The baby is Trevor Allison. This is wrong. Alice and Trevor were in boat #14. Mrs. Nancy "Bess" Allison and her two year old daughter Lorraine were thrown into boat #6, but allowed to get out when Mrs. Allison said her son was missing and she wasn't going to leave without him. Only Trevor survived. Lorraine Allison was the only child lost who was not in Third Class.

There was a guy who got drunk, the chief baker. He was the only one to stay on the whole time and survive, saying he "rode it down like an elevator". He survived by climbing on to Collapsible B.

Californian could not have "saved everyone". She only carried four lifeboats and could have only taken on 250 people. She was also surrounded by ice and had barely missed hitting an iceberg a few hours earlier.

Even if Titanic had hit the iceberg head on, the ship still would have sank.

Two survived by climbing on to doors that were floating in the water.

Jack and Rose could not have both fit on the door and kept it floating. In real life, neither of them would have survived to see the end.

There were at least 16 ships in the area. All answered except Californian.

Carpathia was the second ship to respond, not the only one, as was implied in the movie.

The officers fired guns in the air.

There weren't nearly enough lifeboats.

The so-called "mystery ship" wasn't a mystery for long. It was Californian.

One of the men in boat #13 had to use his knife to cut the ropes in order to keep boat #15 from landing on top of them.

There was a priest who was offered a place in a lifeboat, but chose to stay and pray with those who couldn't escape, offering them absolution.

Fifth Officer Lowe was the only one to go back for survivors, pulling eight from the water, six of whom survived. He also picked up the four survivors of Collapsible A and the surviving men and one dead from the upturned Collapsible B. However, his was not the only one to return to the scene. He commandeered boats #4, #6, #8, and #12.

All of the collapsibles and three of the standard boats were incapable of returning for survivors or taking on more. Boats #5 and #7 were the first to leave the ship. They both  flipped over. If Cal had been on a boat that flipped, he would have had to be on one of the first two to leave.

No one knows if the chief officer blew his whistle and said, "Bring back the boats", but someone did.

The horrible screams of the dying was the one thing no survivor could forget.

The "never an absolution" statement came from Harold Bride : "After the screams had subsided and the sea was quiet again, all the rest of us had to do was wait. Some of us waited to live, while others waited to die. All of us waited for an absolution that would never come. For some of us, it will never come."

It was raining hard when Carpathia reached New York.

"The Dream" was described by many survivors.

Senior Wireless Operator Jack Phillips received an ice warning from the Masaba about half an hour before the collision that he didn't take to the Bridge.  Second Officer Lightoller tried to use this as a way blaming the wireless operators for the whole thing, but it failed. Jack Phillips died and his surviving colleague, Harold Bride denied knowing anything about it until it was brought up during the Inquiries.

1,523 lives were lost, 705 were saved. (The numbers have changed many times, but this is the most widely accepted and is the numbers used by the Inquiries.)

All liners at the time had a 24/7 radio watch and two operators. After the sinking, it became mandatory on all vessels.

I see Edward Smith as a hero. I believe he did his best, given the situation. I do not think anyone can honestly say we know we could have done better or would have done anything differently than he did. He was the best sea captain of his day, even being praised by rivals. He wasn't called "Billionaire's Captain" for nothing. Those who could afford to choose their captain, almost always chose him.

"Their Deaths Were Not In Vain"

Many things changed as a result of the sinking:

Lifeboats were required for all on board, not based on tonnage and routine drills became a requirement.

24/7 radio vigilance became a requirement on all vessels.

The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) was founded and established by survivor Harold Bride.

The International Ice Patrol was created.

Shipping lanes were moved further south.

Strict rules concerning class distinction and separation requirements on ships ended.

Many survivors faded into the background. Others wished to.

J. Bruce Ismay resigned as White Star Chairman, and was wrongfully demonized. He died in 1936.

Molly Brown took up a collection for Third Class survivors. She refused to leave Carpathia until she made sure that every single survivor had been reunited with their loved ones and every single one had received proper medical attention. She later ran for the US Senate, before women were even able to vote. She died in 1929.

Charles Lightoller continued to work for White Star and hated being called a hero. He said he was only doing his duty and what he did on Collapsible B was "only what any good officer would have done." He did the exact same thing at Dunkirk, saving 19 and losing no one, saying of it, "I was only doing my duty". He was the only survivor who publicly insisted Cyril Evans of the Californian was completely innocent. He died in 1952.

Captain Stanley Lord of the Californian was blamed and fired from Leland Lines for his failure to respond. He later took command of a another ship through a subsidiary of Leland. He died in 1969.

Cyril Evans, Californian's lone wireless operator, claimed he was asleep the whole time and found innocent at both Inquiries. He went back to life as usual, but was never given an assignment at sea again. He served in communications during both world wars and eventually became regional manager of the Marconi Company's successor. Privately, he had to defend himself for the rest of his life, as many survivors and victims' families blamed him. He died in 1957.

Harold Bride was seriously injured and had to be helped every step of the way. He collapsed upon reaching the deck of Carpathia. After two days, he had recovered enough to return to work, spending the rest of the trip helping their wireless operator. He had a hand in writing three books about the sinking, even though he hated talking about it and hated the celebrity status that came with being a survivor. In 1914, he founded the precursor to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) and served as telegraphist about Mona's Isle during WWI. He eventually moved to Scotland and became a successful travelling salesman. He died in 1956, the last of the Collapsible B survivors. He never publicly blamed Cyril Evans for not responding to their distress call, but their relationship was forever strained.

Carpathia's captain and crew were celebrated. Californian's crew was demonized.

Carpathia and Californian were both torpedoed and sank during WWI.

At least 43 people on board had premonitions about the sinking. Only 21 survived.

Jack Phillips told family and friends that he  dreaded the ice field he knew they would have to travel through and wished he was assigned another ship. He told them what to do if he didn't return home from this trip. He died on Collapsible B at dawn and was buried at sea from Carpathia.

Charles Lightoller said he had an unshakable uneasy feeling about the trip.

No other liner has ever been taken down by an iceberg.

[sian22redux]

Pretty Woman

For  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s  Body Positivity Challenge.

Pairing:  Plus size reader x Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Setting: Post Infinity War, the world has magically gone back to normal…

Rating: T

For the gorgeous @winters-beauty because she really likes this type of challenge.

 With a prompt like “your body is not ruined”  I know most folks are thinking of post-pregnancy or something but I’ve gone a different way, based on my own recent experiences.  This is post major illness where reader has to adjust to change. Hence some of her reactions here are based on loss of health of course, and control, and having to adjust to a new reality.  

 Fortunately her two guys have some experience with that.  

--------------------------

“Help!!”

The panicked cry that suddenly tumbles from your mouth brings your boyfriends running from the living room.

“Y/N?! Jarvis!?”  Steve is the first to skid to a halt at the bedroom door, blond brows creasing in anxiety and hands glued to the frame, ready to propel himself against whatever threat lurks inside.  His frown and tanned bulk take up all the open space, block the escape route as he quickly scans the room, reconning automatically for any one of several unpleasant situations.  

Intruder?  

Explosion? 

Lethal virus?

Nope.  

Nothing quite so deserving of an American hero’s skills.

Just your dumb rotten luck.  

“All is secure, Captain Rogers,” intones Jarvis mildly from above the massive closet door and you almost, almost laugh, because-- secure.   Great choice of verb.   Thanks.  Thanks so very much.  Now the AI is making jokes..

Bucky arrives a heartbeat behind and elbows Steve aside, squeezing through to stand worriedly at the cream carpet’s edge.  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong?!!!

James Buchanan Barnes allegedly has super-vision.   How can he not fricken’ see?!  

“I’m stuck!!!”

You stand poised in the middle of your bright and airy Tower bedroom wondering how life came to this.  There’s a tankini top caught about your chest and upper arms that’s mashing tender skin. The matching boxer briefs are wedged halfway up your ample thighs, their blue elastic pinching so hard it just might bruise.  

Secure.  

Yup.  

Impossibly. Hopelessly. Secure.

The frustration of this new reality makes you want to howl but it is the humiliation of standing there, inextricably pinned by two small scraps of cloth, that sends the tears silently coursing down your cheeks.   It was hopeless from the start.  There is no way you will get your one and only (and favourite) bathing suit on.  

Now, or possibly forever.  

The realization is truly sinking in.

“My body is ruined!”

Your plaintive wail jerks Bucky into action.  He leaps forward, slips both arms around your shoulders, braces you upright, murmuring “No doll, your body is not ruined,” softly against your hair, stroking your shuddering back as the dam bursts wide and months of pent up hurt flow out in a hiccupping, sobbing mess.  Steve, as always hyper focused on the mission, has figured out that rescue and extraction are the first priority and so he bends down and stretches the suit’s leg holes wide with his two strong hands, taking care not to tear the fabric.  Gingerly he shimmies the blue-aqua ikat print farther down-- the tugging is uncomfortable but eventually he helps you lift one foot and then the other, sets the bottoms on the bed and turns his attention to the top.  

Push, pull, wiggle—swear--- somehow he manages to remove it without tearing skin.  

You’re finally, finally free and he’s holding you, a wet and snotty, naked bundle of anxiety against his massive chest, crooning softly, “Shhh, baby, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

It’s really not.

“Here, sweetheart.”   A damp facecloth is pressed into your hand.   “Better?” Bucky’s eyes are blue green wells of hopefulness as he passes extra Kleenex for you to blow your nose and oh so delicately dabs aloe from a bottle onto the pad of his metal index finger.  

Oh god, he’s already retreated to the bathroom for supplies.   Each ensuing whisper light, achingly considerate touch of cool against the red welts upon your skin makes you want to tear up again.  Inside the chill, implacable shell of the Winter Soldier there had been trapped the world’s sweetest, gentlest man.  One who has a need to help, cannot stand to see anyone even slightly hurt, and the thought that he’s so tenderly helping you just slays you.  

Sniffing loudly, you dab your eyes and try to smile a little brokenly because you are beyond grateful but also, this is all so wrong.  “Thank you.”

Bucky nods.  Dark and gold, your boys rotate around and now Steve is at your back.  He sits on the one free bit of bed and pulls you down onto his lap with Bucky crouching down beside.  

Both are tense—and worried.  You’ve all been so looking forward to this break—to the Memorial day getaway that Tony is throwing at his Hampton house.  Laid back, weathered wood and chicly elegant white and grey, it is a sprawling haven. Rattan loungers surround an endless pool.  Acres of green lawn will host hilariously drunk croquet.  The beachside fire will glow below a vault of coruscating stars.  

Perfect and all perfectly organized by your boss, Miss Potts.  

Wheels up is at six.  

The sun is climbing quickly to its zenith, baking New York’s already heated streets and anyone who can is trying to find relief.  Bucky’s got on a linen shirt and dark boardshorts.  Steve is as dressy as he ever is in grey t-shirt and zip-off cargos.  You would have donned your sundress by now but around the three of you lie scattered a flurry of discarded summer clothes—like so much sediment rained out of a clear blue sea 

Not a single item fits.  

You’ve been sick for months.   Actually a year.   Have lost the permanent lines of pain and the wan pale skin of too much time indoors but still you are not yourself.  Eight months of steroid treatment have left you drained.  Bloated.   Living in your housecoat and nightclothes on a bad day and in sweats when it’s good.  

The fact that this is the first big event since you’ve been somewhat well stares you in the face.  Online you’d bought needed winter things but no warm weather items yet.  You’d been holding off in the faint hope you’d lose a little more.  But summer is arrived—early and abruptly--quite rudely without consideration of your schedule.  A drizzly week ago the mercury had barely climbed to sixty.   Now it’s a sweltering 82 

“I can’t go.”  

You hate yourself for saying it out loud but a little tendril of relief coils up.  You literally can’t get your suit on.  What will you do?  Hide in the house in jeans and rolled up sleeves?  Flounder in one of Steve’s fabled smedium T-shirts?  Wear one of Bucky’s as a dress??

Cocooning the whole time in the air conditioning feels as if it is giving in to debility once again.

“Steve, will you tell Tony that I’m sick?”

You twist round to catch his gaze but immediately you hear Bucky’s snarking response beside.  “Oh yeah, ask him to fib.  The one with experience lying on his forms.”

“Punk.”  

“Jerk.”   

“Hey!  I’m not the one who has the world bamboozled into thinking that I’m squeaky clean.”

“Fuck off, Buck.”

“Bingo!”

They’re quite the team---put on the squabbling couple act to try to cheer you up and you can’t help it, you shake your head in fond exasperation.  The thoughtfulness is sweet, but still, there’s a little hollow in your stomach.  They’ve done this so very much in the past few months the routine is pitch perfect every time.  

“You are meatballs, the both of you.”  

Bucky shrugs and gives a wry half smirk but Steve sighs heavily, running a soothing hand across your neck where the nerve pain has been worst.  “Your meatballs, Y/N.  But Baby, why?  You’re not hurting badly are you?”

Oh god.   Of course Steve’s going to worry about your symptoms.  Checking in, adjusting to their ups and downs, has become automatic.  You remember for a moment that first night of terror: the sudden jolt as if you’d been hit by a cattle prod, the fuzzy return to consciousness, speech slurred, left arm dead, a raging headache piercing through your skull and radiating down your neck.  Steve yelling at Jarvis to get the EMTs, all but certain it was a stroke. The week in hospital and months horizontal after that.  One night of terror turns into every night.  The seizures hit like clockwork.  Make you afraid to fall asleep because you’re going to get that same electrical shock to brain and the spreading flush of pain.   Every damn night.   Your arm, thankfully, comes back but that doesn’t stop it’s throbbing for a moment.  You feel guilty all the time because they are doing everything. Making meals. Cleaning.  Laundry.  Shopping. Shuttling you to doctors.  One of them insists on staying back from missions because you need so much help.  Neither will let anyone else but them take care of you most days, and so the Avengers do their best.  Run errands and make meals.  Read to you when the headache makes words slide across the page.  Distract Steve and Bucky with needed sparring bouts when all you can do is be still and quiet in a darkened room.  

While the medical team tries cocktails of different things, you all wait and hope.  Hoo boy is that fun.  There’s the one that makes you stoned.   The one that doesn’t work at all but gives you vertigo.  The one that works too well and makes you sleep twenty hours out of twenty-four.  The big gun intravenous med has Shield Medical quickly flushing you with ice water as you break out in hives and wheezing.   It’s supposed to slow the reaction down and so the intern stands frowning at the ensuing full body shaking, wondering if it’s progressed to an anaphylactic phase.

Buck speaks up right away when you can’t answer through chattering teeth. “It’s hypothermia.  You’ve cooled her down too fast.”

“Hypothermia?!”

“Trust me. I’ve seen it.”  

You’d all laughed grimly about that one afterward.  Finally, finally there came the med that worked.   The one that you’ll take forever.  It’s literally saved your life but this miraculous godsend is not without its downside.  

It’s number one side effect is weight gain.

Your gaze falls on the forlorn heap of lycra.  Pretty. Flattering to your curvy figure that both guys love.  It shows off your assets perfectly.  

But is now probably four sizes smaller than you need.

Would it be too much for life to not pile this on you too???   You take a deep breath and try to regain some equilibrium.  You don’t want either Steve or Buck to worry—to think that you aren’t well—but this particular problem isn’t one they’ll have not thought much on before.  “No,” you answer slowly. “It’s not that, I feel ok.” Two sets of shoulders droop, relieved. “But I can’t go in winter clothes. And I have nothing that will fit.”    

This not the cry of a spoiled pampered thing who just wants something new. Literally nothing fits.  Not shorts or skirts. Your favourite capris won’t go past your hips.  The dresses don’t do up.  Even the light evening sweater that doesn’t need to meet in front has arms so tight you’d had to peal it off inside out.  

Utterly humiliating.  

And absolutely a real and present problem.  The East coast has its first summer heat wave early.  When you asked Jarvis that morning what the temperature was outside he’d responded,  “Sir says it’s not fit for man or dog.”  

“I have to cancel going.”

Steve rises and sets you lightly on your feet.  His jaw is set, face intense and determined, and you know he’s thinking ‘no’.  That you shouldn’t give in to this disease.  Let it get in the way of life unless it’s really necessary.  

“I can’t.”   You’re pleading.  Still smarting from the too-tight straps and feeling totally demoralized. Bucky reaches out to grasp your hand while Steve pads silently over to the giant walk-in closet, rummages for the lightest weight sweats you own, holding them out hopefully. You know Tony will be so bummed. He’ll mope.  And pout.  But you can’t face it.  Hiding inside or broiling outside alongside everyone in bathing suits will only make you feel more pathetic than you already do 

You shake your head at the fuzzy mass of grey.  “You go. They’re used to me missing things.  What’s one more weekend?”

Steve sees the certainty in your eyes and does not try to argue on that point but neither does he back down.  

“We’ve just got you back.  Are so, so grateful you are ok.   We just want to see you enjoying yourself again.”  

His eyes are dark like a midnight sea.  Bucky is nodding, setting the sweats aside and handing you your undies and loose shirt and generous jeans from where they were flung across a chair.   When you take them and slowly begin to dress he crosses his arms, a shaft of sun winking off the metal.  

“Not without you, doll.”  

Not fair.  Those are words he knows will work, go straight to the heart of the little triad you have built, and then Steve of course piles it on.   “That’s right.  You don’t go, we don’t go.  We are a team.”  

Amazing, remarkable, wondrous stubborn idiots.  They are awfully hard to cross when they gang up.  

Nervously, you smooth down your dark ponytail and take a steadying breath. “I know.  It’s just…”  

What?   Too hard?

You look at the two gorgeous and true men you are all but married to. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you’d wind up here.   Assisting (and being a good friend to) Pepper Potts while she assists the world.  Living in Avengers Tower.   Smoothing out the rough between two lovers who have dared time and space to be together.   They need you so very much that they’ve taken a risk on something quite unorthodox, and though sometimes it makes you want to pinch yourself, lately you’ve just wanted wake up out of the nightmare.  Focusing on yourself.  And forgetting how much they sacrifice.  

Every day.  For everyone.

You swallow hard, trying to gather the shreds of your confidence and explain the lump that sits brooding on your chest.  “I didn’t anticipate this would happen.  Didn’t think ahead.”  

Steve smiles sadly, and you let him take you in his arms, kiss the top of your head and pull back to look sombrely down again.   “Y/N, you’ve been so strong.  So incredible.  And Buck and I have watched you wrestle with this thing, amazed.  Proud of your will to find a way.  It should have made you crazy long ago and I get it.  I do.  This feels like too much.  This one extra thing.”  

Your nodding, realizing that if anyone does understand it’s him. Steve lived with chronic illness.  Several of them in fact.  Asthma. Heart arrhythmia. Scoliosis. Anaemia.  Ulcers.  All of them had plagued him for most of the twenty-five years before the serum.

You’ve been in the fight for not even two.  

“But what am I going do?” you whisper a little mournfully.   If you have to you’ll wear your sweatpants.  Maybe you can cut them off?  Maybe you can cut the arms off your tops?  They’ll look hideous but you won’t broil like a lobster in a pot.  “Can we butcher something that already fits?”

“No, Y/N, not necessary.”  Steve checks his watch and glances to the lightweight packs stacked neatly by the door. “T minus six hours.  There’s lots of time.  I’m packed and so is Buck.  Betcha we can get you stuff and be back by two.”

“Stuff?”  Does he realize what he’s saying?  Four days worth of clothes?  When you need every little thing?

Bucky, curls in behind, chuckling at the incredulity in your tone. “We all can do it baby.  In record time.  And the one of us with taste will even help you pick outfits.”

“Hey!”  Steve, mock-affronted, swats him on the rear.  

From your safe spot in the middle of the sandwich you heave a sigh. Perhaps just a suit and top and shorts would be enough.  The weekend’s casual.  You can get away without a dress.  Survive being seen in the same clothes for days.  The guys do it on missions all the time and heck, Clint lives in black and purple. And Thor in red and silver.

Bucking up your courage, you scrub the wet from your cheeks and are about to acquiesce when something Steve said pings.  

It’s Bucky who is the clothes horse.  Knows his style.  Enjoys taking risks.  Steve is simpler.  He gravitates to clean lines, simple shirts and slacks.  Nothing flashy but he appreciates well made.

He’ll accept finer things that you bring him home but if it’s left to him—it’s online all the way.  

He loathes shopping.  

With the fiery passion of a hundred suns.  

“All?” you ask, incredulous.    

“Yup.  We are team. All three of us will help.”  Steve cocks his head and stares up to the ceiling. “Jarvis can you patch me through to Tony?”

“Right away Captain.”

From above, you catch Pepper’s clear, ringing tones behind Tony’s rapid-fire, just slightly high and excited baritone “Stark’s house of mojitos and margaritas. What’s up Rogers?  We’re pre-drinking here. I’m collecting the eye-watering Hawaiian shirts and Pepper’s making me put the new toys back.”  

“Anthony!”  Pepper is mortified.  You’re blushing and Bucky barks out a laugh.  Steve’s shaking his head and grinning ear to ear, but truthfully the thought of Tony Stark tinkering with items from Frisky Friday?  

Should make all of you a little scared.

“Tony do you still have that limo?”

“Of course I do, Captain Obvious.  Bentley’s Mulsanne for eight.  Tan leather.  Naim audio and bluetooth headphones.  Retrofitted with Stark screens of course.  Whhhyyyyyy?”  

The insatiably curious head of your group absolutely has to know.

Steve grins and pops a quick kiss on your nose.  “We need it.  We’re going on an emergency shopping trip.

The reaction from two floors up is immediate.  

“Holy shit!”

------------------------

Of course Tony calls ahead.  

You stand in the bright but not too intimidating plus size boutique attended by the solicitous and friendly owner.  She is very nice. You force yourself not to apologize, to not make excuses for your size.  It’s ridiculous.  Being not thin is not a crime.  Or a tragedy. Or even actually a choice but it is so hard to go against the conditioning of thirty years.  

Why are you letting all that crap get inside your head? Ridiculous.  Time to be positive and so you force yourself to relax and let yourself be waited on.    

The owner brings armloads of practical and pretty and flattering styles that mix and match—can be a basis to add to later.  For two hours Steve and Bucky sit in the ‘boyfriend chairs’ and help.. Steve has a black-one sugar coffee, Bucky has a latte and his phone is in his hand. He’s helpfully checking for the latest styles..offering opinions as you come out and model each new thing.   They’re both laughing and joking, trash talking each other’s sense of style and seemingly enjoying the experience as you try on an entire wardrobe.  Two bathing suits, two shorts, navy capris, four tops, one light coverup and two sundresses.   In basic colours that all go together and will get you at least through a week with washing once.

“That’s enough,” you insist, feeling a bit tired and hot from all the changing, wondering what the damage to your credit card will be.  You haven’t worked since all this landed down.  And though Stark Industries has great disability insurance, you feel like you shouldn’t go too nuts.

“But you should have one tank, I think” the owner adds, frowning thoughtfully at all the cap-sleeved tees.  “In case there is a day that is very hot.”

Hmm. She has a point.  The weekend is slated to go from broiling to thermonuclear, but you’d steered away from thinner straps, a little worried at how they’d look.

“Go for it, Y/N!”  Bucky enthuses and Steve nods encouragingly and so you warily take a few wider banded versions into the dressing room.  Tug them down over your head, prepared for a pair of hastily stifled frowns.  

The reaction you get is not what you expect.    

Steve’s frowning, concentrating seriously like you’ve never seen, asessing the three different combinations like the fate of the world is riding on this choice. Finally he speaks up.  “I really like that one.”

You turn to give yourself a better view in the three way mirror.  The actually super comfortable white shorts have a broad waistband that flexes gently and doesn’t bind.  They’re topped by a just slightly flared, surprisingly flattering tank in black with grey overstitching.   Modern and sleek, it moves with you–and as you move Steve’s nodding.  

You glance back at Buck.  His head is tilted, long hair falling across his face as he peruses the combo with as much consideration as he gives a gun.  Which means serious consideration.  “The shape is great, Y/N, but the colour isn’t right.”  He rises up and heads unerringly for the rack it came from, picking out the same top in pale shell pink and walking back, holding it up against your shoulder.  “I think this is better against your colouring.“

You’re amazed.  Now that is getting into the spirit of the thing but still you bite your lip, thinking black is more neutral, but what do you have to lose? Why not try?

When you return and show it off, Steve smiles and the owner looks admiringly at Bucky and nods her head. “You are exactly right Mr. Barnes and pink is this summer’s colour.”

He is right, it’s a warmer tone and makes your skin look less sallow.  You feel better in it.  Surprisingly.  The top goes into the keep pile and Bucky grins, sitting down and stretching out, lacing his hands behind his head and making a face at Steve as if to say ‘I’m not the one to steer you wrong.’  

The gesture gets Steve’s dander up.  The game is on, and no one, no one, gets more competitive then Steve Rogers when he is the mood.  

“Try this…”  

Oh my god he’s actually picked up a sheerly pretty, ice blue strappy top from a rack, the dainty hanger looking hilariously tiny in his massive hands.   Can you wear something that—delicate?   Your brain had been kind of thinking of a heavier cover up….  

“Try it baby.”  He looks so sure of himself and Bucky’s nodding encouragingly and the owner is saying how the only rule is ‘do you like it?” and so you put it on.  The slightly ruffled asymmetric edges look sexy and cool against jean shorts and all of you agree---- it and the shorts are perfect.  

Both are to be kept but then Bucky will not be outdone.  He stalks around the shop, metal fingers quickly riffling through the wares, obviously searching for something exactly right.  

The owner hovers politely just behind.  “Mr. Barnes? Can I help.”

“Bucky,” he answers automatically.  “Nope. I will know it when I see it. 

Finally he pulls out a complicated looking fall of pale leaf green and holds it up.   It’s gorgeous.  And absolutely sexy.  A halter top that falls softly to a just slightly fuller base.   With an oval opening in the back and cut-out, slightly gathered sleeves that will leave your shoulders and upper arms quite spectacularly bare.  

You shake your head.  “I can’t.”  

“It will be perfect with your eyes.”  He’s right on that—it will bring the green highlights in your hazel eyes to life, but it’s seems waaay too revealing.  Your upper arms aren’t toned.  Your collarbones don’t show.  Your…

“Y/N?”  Steve rises and slides over to give your shoulders a quick reassuring squeeze.   His ocean eyes are pleading like a puppy dog’s.  “Please?  I’d love to see you in it.”

How can you resist both of them?

Cautiously you come back out and give a little twirl.  It’s flirty and sexy and both guys’ eyes light up right away.  

“Wow.”  

Their comment is in unison.  It is really, really nice, flirty and soft and it makes you even feel a little sexy.  Steve says he also loves the blocky heeled, buff sandals the owner has paired it with.  Bucky is raving about the stretch skinny jeans.  You frown at the size of the ‘keep’ pile.  

It’s growing.  The owner has suggested a really workable set of combinations and there is even a silky printed scarf to give one dress a little bling for evening.  

The thought of the bill is a little daunting but you do need longer pants if one evening turns out cool…

Bucky leans back in the chair and confidently crosses his arms across his chest.  “Buy it all, Y/N.”   Steve nods and gives you one of his precious sunrise smiles.   “We’re a team.  We’ll divide the bill up equally.  Don’t stint yourself.”  

That is so considerate and so very generous.  “You don’t need to…” you begin, but Steve cuts you off.   “We do.  We want you to feel comfortable and relaxed in what you wear, too feel confident.   We can afford it,” he adds and Bucky laughs. 

“Easily.  All he ever buys is paint and vinyl records.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “And all he ever buys is knives and books.”  

True.  But not necessarily a reason for them to spoil you.  

Bucky turns and takes your hand in his metal one, raises it to his lips and plants a kiss, cementing the argument with one last, cajoling grin.  “After all you’ve been through don’t you think you deserve a treat?”  

Your heart melts a little bit.  Well. Then.  

The loot is packaged up and rung through while you change into a sundress and leave the baggy sweats behind.

Outside the limousine driver nods appreciatively when you climb into the butter soft back seats with what feels like a mountain of tissue-covered packages.  It’s Barry. The soft spoken, grey bearded gentleman who had taken you to the rare doctor visits neither Steve or Buck could attend.  

“Miss Y/N, you look lovely. So nice to see you looking well.”  

Wow.

“Did you pay him?” you hiss to Bucky as you follow a laden Steve up into to the steel cocoon of the private elevator.

“Nope, doll, I sure didn’t.”

-------

Once you are ensconced back in your room again, the guys go off to see if Pepper needs any help while you take another run at packing.  There’s no time to triage.  All the small things that don’t fit are unceremoniously bundled by the armload and stuffed into bags to store.  You set the small suitcase on the bed and start to transfer the new items in.  Dresses and pants on the bottom.  Tops and shorts and smalls rolled up to make up space.  Your toiletries go next.  And then your meds.  Six pills a day on top of the injection.  It comes with its own travel pack—freezer bag to keep it cool, mini disposal for the cartridges.  You tuck in your flip flops and eye the new sandals that Steve liked so much.  Should you bring them?  Will there be a chance to wear them?  Can you walk in heels for long after a year of bunny slippers 

Will anyone notice with Nat’s and Maria’s killer bodies in swimsuits?  

With Pepper in her perfect three inch heels?  

Who are you kidding?  They are all so gorgeous and thin and fit and you are white like a beluga whale. Of course all of them will be so nice, will go out of their way to make positive, encouraging remarks.  Of course Thor, oblivious, will make booming allusions to some obscure ancient goddess of fertility. Of course Tony, overcompensating, will ridiculously call you Marilyn, and Raquel and.. and…

Your courage throws a wobbly.  

You are wearing the new sundress with the yellow print.  It’s presentable and even pretty but turning now in front of the long length mirror that you’ve avoided looking in for months, you see it.  

The rolls that dip and dive along your back.  The bow outward of the bodice where your stomach sags.  Even with this being size XL. 

Dissolving onto the nearby bench, you place your hands across your face and struggle not to cry.  You love the Stark Beach House.  It was actually the place you first realized the months long flirtation with the Avengers’ supersoldiers was more than a bit of harmless fun.  Under hazy stars and moon, the softest of night breezes, you’d raised your cocktail to your lips and caught their eyes meet in glance.  Accept the truth.  Find the courage to admit.

They’d fallen.  For you, just as you had for them, and no matter how complicated, how messy it is to be three they wanted this.  The whole world knew Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are an item.  Indivisible and forged like steel by the vicissitudes of life. It just didn’t know they felt incomplete without a third.  Someone softer.   Who could fill in the chips and hollows, let them focus on something other than themselves. 

One different man came out of Greenland’s ice.  

One different man came out of Siberia’s wastes.  

Both of them understand in their DNA how hard it is to start again. That you are mourning.  For a life that is irrevocably changed.   No one’s breathed a word of you returning to work as yet but you know it will be hard.  Some mornings you’ve staggered into the common room, dopey from the night time meds and poured coffee into your orange juice.   Some weeks doctor visits and movies dates are equally lost in fog.  

Steve says not to worry, take baby steps, understand that pain builds fatigue and fatigue leads to forgetfulness but then you think of the insanely together, curvy woman with the photographic memory and talent for keeping track of every tiny detail.

Gone.  

You will never be that woman again..

You hang your head and cry.

-------------

  “Y/N?!”  

It’s Bucky.  He’s walking in, probably coming to see how soon you will be done and it doesn’t help. “I’m sorry. Sorry..I just…”  

He’s leaning over your half-zipped bag, biting his lip, one tendril of sable hair sweeping across his cheek.  Perfect dimple and chiselled jaw darkened by just a day or so of stubble.  

The sight catches at your breath.  

How?  How could so gorgeous, sexy a man want me??   How could Steve?  Painted golden as a perfect sunrise.  Inside and out.

The tears leak out again.  

Confused, surprised, you think, at the waterworks. Bucky straightens up.  “Baby what’s wrong?”  

You wave your hands at your body.  “You can’t find me attractive like this!   You both are so perfect and I look so…“  

Fat.  

The word is clinically quite simple but in practise it is so complicated. All too often meant to demean.  Trolls on the internet toss it negligently when they want to put someone down. ‘Fat slob.’ “Cow.’  ‘Porky’ may be gentler but the message is the same.  Appearance is all.    As if weight happens because you’re slovenly.  Or stupid.  Or worth less than someone else.  

It is so wrong but thinking judgementally is very so hard to banish when you’ve been bombarded by it for almost thirty years 

“Different..?”   Bucky’s eyebrows crash together into a familiar line of hurt.  “Y/N is that what you think our love is about?”  

“No. No!!’ you exclaim, mortified.  “I know you love me. I just..”  A little voice inside your head says ‘be honest. It’s the only way this will work.’

“I don’t want you to want me any less.”  

There.  You’ve said it.  In a whisper because it feels so unworthy.  Insignificant, when they’ve fought so hard to be together.  

But this worry has been clawing like a rat at your brain since the day you stopped being in so much pain.

Before nothing mattered but relief.  Now you feel better.  Mostly. You should want your guys, and the days you don’t feel so crap you sort of do.  

But there has been no sign of anything other than care and concern from them.  

Bucky’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotions.  Unsure of what he’ll do, you hold your breath, watch him sigh and cross over to the door. “Stevie, pal, can you come here?”  

He walks back to you with the saddest smile.  Warm and cool fingers hold your cheeks as he leans down to place a kiss upon your brow.   Hands glide down to rest upon your shoulders--the metal one, thanks to Shuri’s tech, barely heavier than the right.  

“Nothing.  Nothing could ever make me love you or want you any less.  Nothing.”  Bucky punctuates each word with a little shake.  “Wasn’t I the one who first noticed that exuberant, sexy smile?  Convinced Steve to take a chance?”  

You nod hesitantly.  He had been, and flirted too.  Hilariously. Brazenly.  You’d been so shocked.  It wasn’t until Steve ‘my tongue ties when I have to talk to women’ Rogers was enthralled, quizzing you about your peripatetic upbringing as unofficial assistant to globe-trotting famous scientist parents that you accepted it might be real.  He had touched your arm so casually and easily, fingers brushing lingeringly as he passed over a new drink, smile quirking just a touch seductively.

Magic.  And utterly irresistible.

It felt a lifetime between then and now, but in truth it was just three years.  

Steve arrives, exchanges an almost telepathic glance with Buck and quickly picks up the gist, reads the situation like a book as only he can do.  He leans in to hold his hand against your cheek, while the other cradles loosely at Bucky’s waist.  “You look beautiful.  And edible…” The feather touch wills a little of his certainty to seep in.  “Y/N, what makes you think that only one size is sexy?”  The genuinely bewildered tone usually reserved for odd parts of disco culture comes out.  This is one of the things that gets Steve’s dander up.  Disappoints him that it hasn’t progressed after seventy years of nap.  “That is flat out wrong.   Bigger or smaller, anything outside the ‘norm’ is bad. It’s crap.”

“Girls don’t get criticized for being skinny,” you blurt, not quick enough to block it in.  You flush, but in your defense.. it is true.  “There is no such thing as too thin for the magazines.”

“Screw the magazines,” Mr. ‘fight me’ growls.  “No one should be criticized for their body shape.”  

Bucky’s nodding.  “It is so demeaning.  In our time girls were made to feel inadequate for not being built like Rita Hayworth.  Flat chested was considered a disaster.  Guys were ragged on if they weren’t built like George Atlas.”  His gaze turns serious and he pulls you little circle closer, prosthetic hand tight on Steve’s shoulder, hair swaying back and forth as he vigorously shakes his head.  “That just isn’t how attraction works.  I have loved and wanted Steve since he was tiny as a matchstick.  So emaciated his hip bones fucking hurt when we were fucking.”

You gasp at the explicitness of the imagery.  Oh lord.  Yes that paints a picture.  Bucky grins and looks adoringly up at his boyfriend.  “I wanted him anyway.”

Steve drops a searingly hot kiss onto Buck’s lips before tearing his own away.  “You did.   Every day and twice on Sundays.”

This is not an earth-shattering revelation.  Bucky is the one with the raging libido.  ‘Hair trigger’ describes pretty much every part of him and honestly, you’d been too.   Before.  It was Steve who sometimes had too much in his head to play. Could not let the day’s anxieties quite go.  Wound himself in strategy until it took two to pull him down—a lion and lioness on their prey.  

The pair of them sexy snarking once again feels so good.  It’s been on hard mute of late.  

Steve runs a thumb thoughtfully across your lower lip.   “He loved and wanted me.  As I was..  Just like I love him for him.  And love you for you.”  The thumb trails down and deliberately runs along your collarbone, leaving precious, welcome little shivers in its wake.  “Y/N you are so sexy.  In every way. Every bit of you.  There is nothing to be unsure about.  You— curvy as you are,   you are perfect.   If we’ve held back from showing you, it’s because we didn’t want to pressure you into something if you weren’t ready.”  

Of course he has it exactly right.  Before, the constant pain and migraines had demolished your libido.  Constant worrying about you had killed theirs.  Bucky takes a deeper breath, leans in to leave a trail of butterfly kisses on your shoulder.  “I’m sorry we didn’t speak up sooner.  There is no way that you could look that would stop us wanting you.”    

He is reading your mind again—seeing that you worry your condition will change with time.  Relapse. It’s hard to entirely banish that fear.   “I’m not gonna go back the way I was,” you say forlornly.  

Steve hums and buzzes a sympathetic kiss upon your neck.  “Mhmmm.  The drug’s changed your metabolism… My serum won’t change either. Or Buck’s.”

“Don’t be so sure with Hydra tech,” Bucky mutters below his breath and Steve rolls his eyes expressively.   “The point is our change is permanent too.”

“But that’s not the same!”  You’re trying to not let your mouth hang wide open.  “You are both perfect since your change.  You’re gorgeous!”  

“So are you.”  Steve punctuates each word with a kiss.  “I get it, sweetheart, I really do. I don’t always love this body either.  Sometimes it just feels like a freak show, but I’ve learned to accept it’s me.”  

Steve? A freak?  This is not an adjective you associate him with.  He’s gorgeous.  Stunning. A perfect specimen of masculinity and that he wouldn’t be utterly thrilled to step into a machine and come out magically a new man has never occurred to you.  You know it hurt.  That he suffered for it.  But the change was absolutely for the better.

“But you’re strong?  And healthy now?!” you exclaim.

“Yes, and god knows it’s better than being sick all of the damn time but it isn’t me. In my head I’m still the matchstick.  There are days when I get caught off guard.  Feel big and clumsy.  And it’s not always such a thrill.”  He pulls a pouty face.  “Can’t turn off the heat that makes you two cuddle on the other side of the bed without me.”  

Bucky bumps him in the hip.  “Awww.  Rogers, you are such a sap.”  

“Unh hunh, well I’m your sap, pal. Forever.”  Steve reaches across your shoulder to kiss Buck’s cheek but then his eyes darken seriously.  “I am hungry all the goddamn time.  And it’s a crazy waste of money to buy custom everything.  Even T-shirts for crissake.”

That makes you smile.  It’s hard to take the frugal Irish boy of the Depression out of the modern man. “I kinda like it when you don’t and wear them a little tight.”  

Bucky grins and nods.  “And your pants.”   It is Steve’s turn to bump playfully at his boyfriend’s hip. “What?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and innocent.  He turns to you and becomes more serious, letting go Steve’s waist, turning his metal hand and flexing the matt black plates.  “I get it, too.  It is not easy to become used to looking different.  Took me ages to accept my arm.”   You nod a little hesitantly. You were not there when he first came back, broke his conditioning to seek out the man he loved, beyond time and all the cycles of the world. “I wanted to hack this thing right off.  Felt as if it wasn’t me.  I still catch myself in the mirror, seeing that, despite Shuri’s good work, I’m half a cyborg with a mass of scars.”  His tone turns low and serious.  “Do you find my naked body unattractive?”  

You gasp, appalled, reaching to catch his hand.  “No! Oh god, Buck no! It’s sexy as hell.  And your scars, they’re badges of bravery!”  

His eyebrow quirks.  “Yeah, love you babe for saying so but let’s be real.  I am a mass of metal and red keloid scar tissue.  Lots of it.  It’s not exactly conventional beauty pitched in the papers or TV.”  His flesh fingers dig into the junction of the prosthesis with his pec. “The internal struts at one time went in here.  The Wakandan version is far lighter and easier but I feel it still.“  

“Buck.”   Steve’s reaches to squeeze his left bicep as Bucky sighs and then his eyes drop to catch your gaze. “It’s taken a lot of time for me to feel it’s a part of me. Accept that I am sexy with it.  Give yourself time.  You will feel it too.  There is no one size or shape for sexy.”

Steve is nodding.  “There sure isn’t.  You both look beautiful.  And I love you beyond reasoning.”  He holds your hand but leans toward Bucky, wanting to support him too.   There’s just a hint of mischevious glitter in blue eyes and his voice is rough with sudden desire. ’I remember the feel of your left arm.  But I love the one that is here right now. ”  

You watch them kiss.  Soft lips meet at first gently and then hungrily, deepening the kiss until it is a barely reigned flame of need.  So enticing. And arousing.  As always the sight leaves you breathless.  The black and gold of the prosthesis is cool below your fingertips and little arcs of light sparkle in the pale gold of Steve’s soft hair.    

They were first.  The foundation.  But you are here now, a solid point of the triangle, and you know it, yet sometimes, as now, you feel the need to let them be.   They’ve been holding off because of you, and you’re uncertain you feel ready for attention yet.  

As you start to slip below the circle of their arms, a hand snakes out.

“No, no, no. Don’t you go anywhere, Y/N.”  Bucky has broken off their kiss, moved lightening quick to cut you off.  He turns your shoulders to face Steve, runs a hand encouragingly along your arm, lacing your fingers in his own.  Steve is smiling, slow and sultry, right at you, a wall of blast-furnace warm and sexy muscle, wedged almost touching right in front.  

Your body sings.  It remembers this, being caught between dark fire and golden glow.  Celebrated.  Revered. Taken to dizzying heights and a now melting grows in your core that you haven’t felt for months.

Perhaps it is that they are right.  You can, in time, adjust.  

And they will show you every hour of every day how much they love all of the woman that you are.

You let yourself fall back upon the bed when a hand with freckled pushes gently on your chest.  So many hands.  Pale. Black-gold.  Irish fair and English tawny warm.  Somehow Bucky has caught you as you fall.  Your head is in his lap.  His blue-green eyes are sparkling just above and one hand is palming, lightly, gently, at the nipple peaked below your dress.  It feels right.  And good. Home, after too long away, and then Steve crawls up the bed, lays himself warm and pliant between your legs. Grinning broadly, excitement glowing in his gaze.  His hands lift the cotton of the hem, ruch the pale yellow flowers up to see a view of your new lemon thong.  

A blond eyebrow raises. “T-2 hours before we go.  Time enough to change into another pretty dress?”

Oh god.  

“Yes.”  

So yes.  

----------------

tags: @winters-beauty @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan  @theycallmebecca @mewsiex@emilyevanston @mycapt-ohcapt  @pegasusdragontiger  @badassbaker @heather-lynn @saffreelove @loricameback @nomadicpixel@missfirstavenger @prplprincez @marvel-lucy

[illeity]

The Best of Anime Winter 2018!

Older anime recommendations [here].

Best Overall

Sora Yorimo Tooi Basho - A Place Further than the Universe

You taught me the courage of stars before you left.

How light carries on endlessly, even after death.

With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.

How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

Tamaki Mari wants to achieve something special, something that would make the most of a youth that she is aware is slipping away with time. Kobuchizawa Shirase, who lost her mother during an expedition to Antarctica, is struggling to find the means to see her again. Alongside Miyake Hinata and Shiraishi Yuzuki, these four friends brave obstacles to travel to one of the most inhospitable places on earth, to a place further than the universe.

It's my pick for the season because of how determined the show is at beating you over the head on the value of chasing after your dreams, no matter how foolish, no matter how difficult because of the finitude of this life. If shows have a "monster of the week" format, this show has a "lesson of the week" format, as each episode exhausts every angle on dream-achievement and its various opportunities and threats without being completely on the nose.

The four are subjected to self-doubt and doubt from other people and friendships that wane as they chart a trajectory that only they can take. They cling to each other in shared sentiment, as the farther they get, the lonelier the path becomes and even progress and exciting new sights are weakened as they find themselves way past their comfort zone, beyond any shore line they're familiar with, with other people they barely know.

And that's how life is supposed to be: You build a world around yourself and craft order out of the chaos, but order creates boundaries, and shuts us from growing and expanding and becoming prepared for dangers beyond our garden. And so we willingly subject ourselves to more chaos, because we're strong enough to do so and because failing to grow might as well be something akin to being dead. And by this dance of order and chaos, we reach ever farther and move with time, as meaning condenses around us like a medal ever being made.

Best Drama

Koi wa Ameagari no You ni - After the Rain

We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes

But how we love when it washes our cars

Tachibana Akira is a High School runner who lost everything when her Achilles tendon ruptured. Kondo Masami is a 45-year old manager of a chain restaurant who had resigned himself to ageing without any ambition. Tachibana is in love with Kondo.

This age-gap romance could have gone any other way but it went with the kindest, most sensitive treatment to its characters with neither condemnation nor approval. The story goes from Tachibana's fledgling affections and pivots to Kondo's struggle to find self-worth when his dreams had faded away. And all of this came about when he realizes that someone can love him for all his failings and forces him to take a long hard look and to reconnect with friends and his passions.

The anime then becomes a 12-episode long metaphor for rain, making use of its various traits as clever figurative language. They water each other, and grow beyond their injuries and histories. And like rain, they comfort, and sometimes inconvenience, but above all, they purify and makes things new again.

Best Comedy/ Best Cute Girl Anime

Yuru Camp - Laid-back Camp

Oh, one day you will go away from this

Oh, one day you will know we’re men of snow

We melt one day

Shima Rin is a quiet girl with a streak of independence, preferring to camp by herself. When a camping trip is crashed by Kagamihara Nadeshiko, an irrepressibly energetic girl who discovers the joys of winter camping for the first time, she reaches out of herself, and discovers the quiet pleasures that come with having an experience alongside other people.

It's so strange why I find myself laughing up in this series. The humor is diverse from acorns suddenly talking to Kagamihara and Shima Rin playing each other off like an elder couple. The humor pulls itself from out of the blue, from events where you don't expect them and they work.

And when the series isn't making you laugh, it's making you awe in wonder at Nature with beautifully rendered landscapes and a very, very cozy atmosphere of good sights, good food, and good friends.

When Non Non Biyori, another slice-of-life anime with stunning visuals and light tone, ended, I thought there would never be another show to approximate it. It’s here, it’s funny, it’s warm and it’s called Yuru Camp.

Honorable Mention

3-Gatsu no Lion - March Comes in Like a Lion

Oh my friends I am heavy Can I beat within your heart? Can I bleed within your love?

There's nothing more to add what I haven't said before: Chica Umino has crafted a live beating heart of a world that protagonist Kiriyama Rei lives in. Centered on Shogi, growing up, and coming to terms with the choices we've made in life are repeating themes even as they are shuffled and played with to differing effect.

Instead of an everyday that we tend to take for granted, every scene carries the weight of ultimate significance, where even tertiary characters are given history and language, their character represented and described in visual metaphor. From the weighty cloth sashes of a history of carrying the lost dreams of friends, to a colorless, rain-soaked painting of existence as payment for perfection in Shogi, the show makes use of the medium to its fullest. And if that's not enough to entice you, the last episode has the greatest first eight minutes to ever grace the medium.

Best Sci-Fi/ Fantasy

Mahou Tsukai no Yome - The Ancient Magus' Bride

You lean towards despair Any given opportunity you're there But what is there to gain? When you're always falling off the fence that way.

The romance between Japanese girl Hatori Chise and mage Elias Ainsworth comes to a head as she steps into her destiny as mage and fights off her impending death. Her growth as a person and her maturity were a pleasure to watch as she rotates through aspects of the feminine: as friend, as sister, as a mother, and as a wife. Her hero's journey is as much a repaving of the road she was supposed to take, destroyed by the past and discouraged by the future.

Best Girl

Takagi (Karakai Jozu no Takagi-san - Skilled Teaser Takagi-san)

Takagi is the queen of smug anime girls, dishing out an endless torrent of teasing upon her sole target, childhood friend Nishikata. It's endlessly entertaining to see Takagi win the upper-hand in every matchup between the two wits because she is exceptionally skilled in reading Nishikata and lucky in circumstances that depend on chance.

But as sweet as this youthful play is, it's easy to see that while Takagi runs circles around Nishikata, she always stops short of coming too close, unable to convey her affection past anything more than mere play and impenetrable smile.

Best OP

Flashback - MIYAVI Vs KenKen (Kokkoku -  Moment by Moment)

TV Size: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhBA6ynorvc

Full: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79IYCjmP_RM

Infectiously catchy, Flashback bounces along with rude guitar licks and a drop made of clouds and pins, propelling the viewer through a sense of excitement, strangeness, and dread alongside unnaturally tinted scenes of dark neon and tall, boxed typography.

Best ED

Ref:rain - Aimer (Koi wa Ameagari No You ni - After the Rain)

TV Size: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbVahv8rcQY

Full Size: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLbOid9mRi4

This was the pick for the sole reason of the song, which is an astoundingly moving ballad which (from the OP, the show, and this ED) again uses rain, this time as a metaphor for desire and fears of regret. The visuals are spartan and entirely aesthetic, of raindrops on an umbrella and then zooming shots of Tachibana as she slowly comes into color.

[spideyxchelle]

as you all know Star Wars haunts me. like all the time. and i have been a little stressed by all of the prompts recently and all of the asks about the prompts. so i decided to write some stuff i know i can do without feeling the stress: nsfw and star wars.

SO HERE IS AN NSFW FIC SET STAR WARS AU VERSE. can you say force sex? i can. and i did. 

He’s gone five days off world on a scouting expedition with some members of the Church of the Jedi and MJ is restless. Ever since their mission on Rishi, things between them have been a surge of brilliant Technicolor, the force ebbing and flowing between them with every kiss. And the stronger this weird, nebulous bond between them (they will not call this bond a Force Bond until years later when MJ’s voice springs to life in Peter’s head) pulses, the more she aches for his return. It used to be that Peter could go off world for months at a time and life would go on, she would train and study and teach the younglings with the masters, but now he’s gone for a day and it feels like a limb has been lopped off. There is no bacta treatment to heal longing. She senses him as soon as he touches down on Coruscant and she goes running. The younger initiates fly out of the wave as she pushes her legs down the corridors, the other apprentices know that MJ and Peter have always been close and smile wryly at one another. It’s innocent, they all think, and they’re wrong. When he descends from the ship, a smile etched on his face from something funny Tam, a curious little member of the Church of the Jedi, says, MJ barrels into his arms. He’s not consciously prepared for the assault, but his body is always aware of her—he chalks up to the force but he knows that there are other creatures that have no sensitivity to the force that can sense companion. There is a word for that and he’s afraid to use it. Peter let’s out an effortful laugh and braces his hand on the back of her head, pulling her ever closer, and squeezes her willowy frame. “You know,” he whispers in her hair, “you could have waited to find me until after I was debriefed.”

She throws her arms even harder around him, “Oh switch off, Parker. I’m allowed to want to see you.” 

Their hug has gone on a little too long and Peter knows it. He can sense that the sweetness of the moment from the bystanders is starting to shift to curiosity and the last thing he needs is people poking into why he and MJ are hugging so hard they are swaying in the ship dock. He reluctantly lets her go and she makes a displeased noise at the back of her throat. 

He smiles and taps her nose in that familiar, fond way he’s done since they were children. “I have to go, Master Tony will want to see me.” 

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “but come to my bunk later.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “Five days is too long.” 

His face heats up in embarrassment but he manages a nod. They haven’t done anything beyond kiss, she knows the flush is because he’s so good and anything suggestively indecent makes him squirm, but she wants to and she knows he does, too. She feels the way he leans into her, the way he lights up when she’s in a room. His voice signature crackles to life whenever they’re together and she feels it move between them like a warm blanket of light.

MJ is so often bathed in darkness the light that Peter feels with her is foreign and painful and beautiful. She wants it, craves it and she’s never sure if its because she needs the lightside or if she wants to sniff it out, which is an unwelcome thought. She could never hurt Peter, she thinks. (This is a lie in the making). 

She doesn’t want to think anymore so she punches his shoulder in the friendly way they’ve always parted and makes her way to her room, while Peter goes down to the Council Room to debrief. 

As he crosses the hanger, Master Tony meets him and Peter drops his head in shame. He knows that Master Tony does not exactly condone his friendly nature with Michelle and sometimes, he suspects, that Tony knows there is more between them than just friendship. Peter wants so badly to please his mentors, but no one more than Master Tony. 

“Safe travels?” Tony asks, folding his hands behind his back, making a beeline to the Council Chambers. 

Peter stiffly nods, “Yes, master. Ach-To had the relics you suspected were hidden away. Luke Skywalker really did hide there.”

“Yes,” Tony nods, “That much we knew. The history books tell us so.”

“It always felt more like legends to me, master.” 

“Yes, well, legends are just men, Peter. Never forget that,” Master Tony hums/

Peter mumbles under his breath, “Or women.” And neither of them say it but they both know he is thinking about MJ. Whatever else is between them, Peter knows that MJ is a brilliantly talented Jedi. Of all of their class, she is the strongest with the force and her saber work is dangerous, experimental and perfect. He likes to pretend that day on Rishi where she spoke to the sithhounds never happened. He isn’t ready yet to face the fact that MJ might have more darkness in her than light. 

Because someone as sublime as MJ couldn’t be a darksider. 

But whatever she was, and she could be many things, it was universally known that MJ is powerful and legends are born from power. 

Tony, thankfully, says nothing else until they are in his debriefing. His debriefing moves slowly. Peter cannot concentrate. His bones quake with the promise of what is waiting for him in MJ’s bunk. He knows they are on the precipice of breaking their vows and the thought equally horrifies him and thrills him. 

The Council picks up on his distraction and it is Master Bruce that stands from his seat and gently says, “Perhaps we should continue this debriefing when your apprentice is not so exhausted from his journey. What say you, Master Tony?” 

“Yes,” Master Tony, leans back in his chair, eyeing Peter curiously, “Yes. Let the boy go.” 

Peter bounces on his heels and bows in the briefest sign of respect before he hastens out of the Council Room. Several initiates try and stop Peter as he heads to MJ’s room to congratulate him on a successful mission and he tries not to be rude but he wants to be with MJ. And each congratulation delays him further. 

Finally, when Cindy Moon, one of the twi’lek girls from his class stops him, he snaps, “Cindy, can we talk about this later? I have somewhere to be.” Her eyes narrow to slits and he shrinks, “I’m sorry. I just-”

“Save it, Parker. Tell Michelle I say hey.” It feels like a sharp version of teasing. Like a jab. He has a moment of worry that perhaps he and MJ are not as discreet as he hoped, but it’s short lived. 

Because when he knocks on her door and the barrier swooshes open, he sees her. And the sight of MJ always makes his brain work less efficiently. Rational thought does not exist when she is in the room. 

He looks safe, she thinks, and propels her body at him again. He is ready this time. His arms open for her and the door locks shut behind them. “Hi,” she mumbles softly into his shoulder.

“Hey,” he squishes her like he used to do when they were children and MJ was a scrawny slip of a thing. Now, there are curves where he squeezes and the soft sections of her body makes his head spin. 

He’s unprepared for when she thumps him on the head and MJ is pleased she’s caught him off guard. “Ouch,” he grumbles, “What was that for?” 

“I heard you engaged with some people planet-side on Ahch-To. What happened to the simple diplomatic excavation mission?”

“Plans changed,” he rubs his head, “Kriff, MJ. That hurt.” 

“You’ll heal,” she sits on her bed. 

His eyebrows raise in a heated, playful way. He tackles her on her bed and she shrieks in delight. His face nuzzles her neck and leaves aimless, happy kisses on her skin just above her tunic, “I’ll heal?”

She’s laughing and her eyes water, “Get off of me, you lazerbrain!”

“Lazerbrain, am I?” Peter teases and nips at her collarbone which is prettily on display. She sighs and arches up against him. It’s not an innocent gesture. He knows it. She knows it. 

It’s a question. And how he answers the question will inform what happens next. 

Peter shakily spreads his hand on the base of her spine, splaying his fingers against her bare skin under her tunic. This pulls them closer together and she’s relieved. She wants this with him, she wants every inch of him.

Peter is not so sure. His vows scream at him in the back of his mind. He is not supposed to love, take a spouse or engage in baser mating rituals. He is an apprentice of the Jedi. He knows better than to fall in the trap of humanoid comfort. 

But when she wraps her leg around him locking him in, it is so hard to consider this wrong. Not when she looks so soft and smooth and kissable underneath him. 

“Em,” his voice breaks.

She covers his hand with her mouth and shakes her head, “Don’t. Don’t tell me you don’t want this. Don’t lie to me, Peter.” 

He shakes and she grips him tighter, like holding him there will make him stay. (Later, she learns there is nothing she can do to make him stay with her. There are no words in the galaxy that will turn him to her path.)

Peter swallows and focuses on breathing like he’s meditating. Then he says what he knows is true between them, “You want me to break your vows.” 

This moment is full of honesty, so she replies, “You broke your vows the day you kissed me in space.” 

It hurts to hear what he knows is true and she knows he is so soft and pure and good. So she is gentle with him when she kisses him. It’s barely a brush of their mouths and he screws his eyes shut like he’s warring with the light inside of him. To do this, what he knows he wants, is not the act of a jedi and he is a man of the order. Or, well, he is training to be. 

Who will he be if he breaks his vows now?

Who will he be if he doesn’t?

He decides and kisses her back. Hesitantly at first until she squeezes her legs around him and all of his baser humanoid biology jumps to attention. She is there, in his arms, and she wants him. That is what he chooses to focus on.

If the jedi are supposed to be selfless than this act is selfish and he still wants her in spite of that. 

She senses when he steels himself to this moment, when he pries himself away from rules and order and only exists in the four walls of her small bunk. Her hands brush his padawan braid away from his face like it doesn’t exist. And she feels him exhale relief against her lips.

Without the reminder of his vows in his line of vision, Peter really kisses her. He kisses her like he did that day in space the first time. It is nothing like the silly, sweet, nervous kisses they have shared since. It is desperate and an anchor. He needs her as much as she needs him. It is a comfort to know. 

Peter unties the belt around her tunic and her tops falls apart to expose MJ’s chest wrappings. Their eyes meet and MJ manages a smile. She tries to sit up and he sits on his feet while she shrugs her tunic off. Then, she guides his hand to her chest wrappings. He slowly starts to unravel them. 

He does not watch her chest. He watches MJ’s eyes. There is only breath and artificial light between them. Her wrappings fall away like ribbons and then her chest is bare to him. 

Only then does he dare to look down at her chest. She’s so hauntingly beautiful. Her skin is textured and hard in places that he knows are from training but her breasts are round and supple. Even years of training can not will that away. His hand covers her left breast and curiously needs it in his hand. 

She is sitting up, watching him, and he is on his haunches touching her. She chews on her lip waiting for him to do something other than grope her like a curiosity. 

This comes in the way of his head ducking down and his mouth closing around her nipple. He’s not sure why he does this. He has no formal sexual education. There is no need for it among the jedi, but he has heard enough from smugglers at trading posts to know that this is supposed to be pleasurable. 

MJ falls back against her thin bunk and Peter falls with her, his mouth still laving at her chest. He swirls his tongue around her nipple, pebbling it and drawing a soft whine from her. His hand mirrors the pebbling motion he’s doing to her other breast. And MJ lays there, luxuriating in Peter Parker exploring her chest. Peter had always had a keen mind for discovery, it was why he was always sent on expeditions with the jedi masters, and now she knows why they choose him for such missions. 

He’s wonderfully curious.

She rocks under his body for want of friction. And he does not remove his head from her chest. He’s not ready to move away from it yet. He wants to kiss every inch of her breasts. They’re so soft and pliant under his touch, plus she writhes against him with every nip. 

“Peter,” she sighs into nothingness. Her leg wraps around him again and she starts to rut against his firm body. He’s still completely dressed and, frankly, uninterested in doing anything more than going at her chest. Until MJ grabs him by his stupid ears and drags him up to her mouth. “Take off your tunic, Mielis,” she purrs in that same stilted foreign language that sends chills raking up his spine. 

He grabs her face and kisses her harder, “Come back to me, MJ. Come back.” 

She rolls against him, “I’m here, Nulis. I’m here.” And she can feel the haze of darkness slip over her like an old friend, but Peter tries to pull her into the light. She can feel him pulling at the force, hoping to draw her back. 

Her eyes clear when Peter rips off his tunic and covers her body with his again. He’s so much harder than she expected. His body is rigid and hard in places that she didn’t know men could be and it feels like heaven against her. Her head drops back and she pushes her body up against his. 

Peter slides his arms under her ached back and yanks her up into a sitting position in his lap. They kiss filthy and rough, like a duel, a duel they have played out a hundred times on the mat. He’s not surprised he takes to this kind of fighting as well as the kind they do in training. 

“Saizuso,” she bites his neck.

He groans and pulls her hair back so he can have a go at her neck, too. He doesn’t bite her hard, but he does leave pepperings of kisses and nips at the base of her throat. She cries out his name. That word he knows. The others anger him. She is his, he is hers. The darkness will not take her. 

He rolls them back over onto the bed and starts to unlace her trousers. They’re a flimsy material and so he can feel the heat between them. It’s dizzying. Wit the help of the force, he gets her trousers off and shucks his own off. 

They’re naked body to body and roll around on her small bunk fumbling for purchase. One moment MJ is on top, the next Peter. Neither wants to yield. 

Just like a fight. 

When Peter finally uses the force to knock her on her back she pouts up at him and he smothers the pout with a kiss. There is a joking lilt to his voice, “Switch off.” 

“You switch off,” she reaches between his legs and grabs at his member. He drops his head and breathlessly shutters. MJ is fascinated by the feel of him. He is not as rock hard as she had always assumed a penis would be, it is softer and gives more. She moves her hand up and down him curiously. Each stroke an adventure.

Peter kisses lazily at the juncture of her neck and her shoulder. “Em,” he breathes, “Oh kriff, Em. You’re killing me.” 

(Not yet. Not this day. But soon.)

He reaches an exploratory hand between her legs and finds a sticky wetness between her legs. She sucks in a breath as he rubs this wetness around, uncertain what else to do. She’s spent a moon cycle or two exploring her own sexuality beneath the sheets in this very room, so she guides him to the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and teaches him how to touch her.

Peter, by nature, is an excellent student. He’s sincere and attentive and when he gets the hang of touching her she falls away into the darkness that is always so welcoming to her and lets sensation overwhelm her. 

She rolls against his hand and cries out when he slips one, then two fingers inside of her body. He can’t quite get a smooth motion when fingering her but she is so worked up and so overwhelmed by the moment that is scarcely matters. She wants him, she tells him as much. 

It does not come out in sithspeak, to his relief, it comes in basic, “Take me.” 

“Take you where?” he dumbly replies. He thinks a moment too late that he was better off saying nothing at all.

But then her eyes open and look up at him so sincerely and softly, “To the stars.” 

Peter adjusts himself so he is between her legs and then shifts so they are joined at the waist, sliding deep inside of her. He meets a little resistance and then he is sheathed inside of her wet heat and both of them groan. 

He’s a legend. She’s a legend. And this moment breathes prophecy. 

He thrusts into her, setting a pace between them, and its slow and sweet. Their mouths brushing with each sway of their hips. Her hands grip at his shoulders, squeezing him like it will center her, but she is already drifting away. 

Peter rests his forehead against MJ’s and with each thrust their foreheads brush. He rolls his hips hard, as a test, and she keens. So he does it again, and again.

Until she is sobbing his name and his thrusts and forceful and punishing. He feels the force start to seep out of her, whipping around the room in a frenzy of passionate feeling. He can feel ghost touches raking down his back and he can feel the force tickling at his stomach, making it clench on the precipice of orgasm. 

She can feel his force signature, too. He uses the force to yank her leg up higher so he can thrust into her deeper and she almost quips that he’s not using the force for a holy purpose, until he hits a spot deep inside her that feels sacred. 

They’re moving together like rough waters. This coupling feels like coming home. And if some events are set in stone, this moment has to be one. Neither can imagine a universe where they don’t share this bliss. 

He goes at her wildly and her body meets every push of his with its own offensive attack. They roll into each other, each reaching for the same untouchable peak. 

And then, there is a switch in their love making. That word is shared between both of their minds but they ignore their connection, do not recognize that something has sprung to life between them. 

“Em,” Peter chokes, pounding her into her flimsy bed, she aches for him to go harder, to demand more of her and her body, “Em, I’m gonna....” 

She grips the back of his hair and tugs, the war is not yet won for her, so he doubles down his efforts and goes harder. She even asks for it, “Saizuso....oh, saizuso!”

The force shatters between them at the same moment and the whole room shakes from the sheer magnitude of it. Things fall from a shelf and clatter to the ground. 

MJ clings to Peter as she falls apart and Peter smothers his head in her shoulder. 

It is a gorgeous symphony of feeling. (It is a terrifying melody that history has played out a hundred times between jedi and sith).

Peter collapses on top of her and MJ opens her arms to cradle him there, close to her heart.

They lay there in silence after, catching their breath and each too afraid to speak. They have dashed their vows. 

And what is left for them now, if not the path of jedi? 

They cannot begin to fathom it. So they fall together again. And fate becomes their third bedfellow. 

[conifertwins]

Armed and Ready - 1/?

Well, I’m trying my hand at a little SVTFOE fanfic. I might do another chapter or two, as well. Anyhow, there’s a story below the jump, if you’re interested.  [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Star kicked down the door to the corn room, only to find Marco writhing in agony on the floor.

“Star… go away,” he grunted, grabbing at his arm. “I… I can’t control it.”

Before Star could ask what “it” was, his right arm twisted into a tentacled mass. “I told him I was a part of him. Nothing can stop my return. Noth….”

“Rainbow stun beam.” She whispered the spell, hoping that might simply subdue the arm, but her rage and her shame propelled Marco, arm and all, through the piles of corn into the wall. After a sickening thud, all was quiet. “Oh no.”

She leaned over him, wand still pointed at his arm. “Marco? Can you hear me?” Silence. She leaned in closer. “Marco? Marco, please?”  She put her head on his chest. His heart was still beating, his lungs still breathing. “Oh, Marco,” she said, biting her lip. “This is my fault.”

She gathered him in her arms. A good princess wouldn’t have caused something like this to happen, she reminded herself. Only when she felt the wind at her back did she realize she had called upon the Fantastic Exit Beam to take them to the castle’s chiurgeon.

====

Stanwick, the chief chiurgeon, fluffed Marco’s pillow as Star paced nearby. “I’m afraid all we can do is let him rest for the time being, Princess Butterfly.”

“Can’t you, you know… go to another dimension for some sort of treatment or magic up some sort of cure?”

“Wasn’t it magic that created this situation in the first place,” Stanwick asked, eyebrow raised.

She stepped back as though he’d slapped her. “That’s totally unfair! And that thing was dormant for, like, a year! I didn’t even mean to do that in the first place. Yes, I should’ve let his arm heal, but he said he needed my help, so I tried. And is that so bad? Trying to make things better? And you….” She pointed her wand at him, forgetting for a moment how menacing her subjects found that gesture. “Aren’t you supposed to make things better? Isn’t that, like, your job? You have to have some sort of way to help him.”

“Help your squire, yes. Cure him? That’s another matter entirely. The medical arts are practical, grounded in the care and cure of ordinary maladies and afflictions. He clearly has a concussion. I can help him through that. You said he was experiencing tremendous pain… ‘writhing on the floor,’ if I recall correctly. I, along with the alchemist, can help him with that. But cure that?” He pointed at the arm, anger and disgust twisting his face. “You’ve taken a perfectly good human and turned him into a part-monster abomination. I’m not convinced he’ll ever be cured of that, Princess,” he stated, as he walked to the door. 

He paused at the threshold, tilting his head just enough so she could hear him. “He needs his rest, Princess. That’s the best thing for him right now. And you,” he glanced at Star, “could stand to get some rest as well.”

She waited until his footsteps faded before she let herself cry. A good princess makes things right, she reminded herself between sobs.

====

“Globgor,” Glossaryk barked.

Star brushed him away from the books of magical theory she had spread across her floor. “Not now, Glossaryk. I need to see if there’s something in here that can help Marco.”

Glossaryk climbed between the pages of Adregar’s Accounting of Magical Mishaps, before closing it shut. “Globgor,” he said, making the book appear to talk.

“I just took you on a walk. Leave momma alone for just a few minutes, okay?”

He crawled out, into Star’s long, blonde hair, before getting close to her ear.

“Globgor,” he whispered.

“Enough,” she shouted, jumping to her feet. Glossaryk landed on the floor, looking more confused than hurt.

“Globgor?”

As Star grabbed Glossaryk, he started to squirm. “Globgor! Globgor! Globgor!”

“What was it she did again,” she asked herself out loud. “Was it… this?” She started to run her finger along Glossaryk’s crystal.

“Glob… gor,” he said, as he relaxed. She laid him down on his pillow, shaking her head.

“Well, at least I got that right.”

“I’d say you did,” said a familiar voice from the window. Star turned to see Eclipsa on her windowsill.

“Eclipsa? What? How did you get up here? Aren’t you supposed to be in chains or something? And, more importantly, how did you get up here?”

“Oh, those things? Why? Would that make you feel safer?” She laughed, aware that Star wasn’t laughing with her. “My dear, we’re both of the Butterfly lineage. Do you honestly think chains could hold you, if you didn’t want to be held?”

“Well, no. I guess.”

“And haven’t you flown before? You… oh dear… you have gone through Mewberty, haven’t you?”

“What?” Star felt her hearts glow as she blushed. “Yes! Yes, of course. I just… I wasn’t expecting company,” she said, turning her back.

“Oh, well I do apologize for that. That was terribly forward of me,” Eclipsa said, jumping off the sill. “I just couldn’t help but hear that your squire… that boy from Earth, I believe… had taken ill. Some sort of magical illness,” she said, cozying up to Star. “And looking at your reading material, I would have to guess it’s something serious.”

Star snapped around, her wand held in front of her like a holy symbol. “And how did you happen to hear any of that, Eclipsa? Have you been spying on me? Trying to get on my good side? Looking for a chance to attack when the chips are down? Because these chips aren’t goin’ down until the cheese has been melted, and only Marco’s gonna melt that cheese, sister.”

“What? Uh, no. I mean, I am trying to get on your good side, but only because I like you.” She started to wander around Star’s room, admiring the posters mounted beside her bed. “And we’re family. We should get to know each other. And as far as the news,” she said, running her fingers along the cracks in the tower wall. “Well, if anything has remained the same over the past 300 years, it’s the fact that the guards are still the worst gossips in all of Mewni.”

Star took a deep breath as she told herself to stand down. “I’m sorry. It’s just… this is all my fault.”

Eclipsa turned to look at her, mildly surprised. “Why would you ever say that? By all accounts, he was attacked by a tentacle monster in the corn room.”

Star gritted her teeth. “No, I… last year I tried to fix Marco’s broken arm, but I accidentally turned it into a tentacle monster.”

“No,” Eclipsa whispered, bringing a gloved hand to her lips.

“Yes. I was trying to help, but….”

“But he was cured once?”

“Well, the spell….”

“The spell is supposed to kill whomever it affects.”

“Yeah, I know. I just… you know… happened to find a way to reverse it. And it looked like everything was okay. Well, except for when the arm said the evil was ‘inside Marco forever’ or something. But I thought that was just a thing monsters say.”

“You… were able to reverse it for a while.”

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s just… you are very talented for your age, Star. I would like to know more of your adventures sometime. But tell me about this monster arm. It’s come back?”

Star tried to keep her lip from trembling. A princess is strong for her people. “Yes. It came back. And Marco said he couldn’t keep it under control.”

“But he could warn you.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, what else could he do?”

“Not that,” Eclipsa said, picking at the books on the ground. “That spell… Star, I know many of those spells. I learned as much as I could. That spell doesn’t give the host control at any point. From the moment it’s cast, the spell consumes the will of the host. The fact that Marco could say anything to you at all, much less that he had failed to dominate it… that is highly unusual. He must be highly unusual,” she said, glancing up at Star. “I can see why you regard him so fondly,” she smiled.

“What? Oh, no… it’s just. I mean, Marco and I are friends. We’re… we’re best friends. But fond? I mean, that’s… hahaha… that’s….” Star’s voice trailed off as Eclipsa put her arms around her.

“It’s okay, Star. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Star tried to recall a more awkward hug, but found herself at a loss.

====

Marco felt his head pound with every beat of his heart. Every beat brought another wave of gut-wrenching nausea and splitting pain. How long had he been like this? Hours? Days? He couldn’t remember anything but the pain at this point… and the corn room… and the arm. His arm.

His right arm. His right arm which was now being gently caressed.

“Star?” Marco’s voice came out like a croak. He gulped hard, as he tried to work up the moisture to speak some more. How long had he been out?

“There, there, my dear,” came the voice. Gentle, soothing… and not Star.

“Doctor?”

Her laughter seemed to dull the pain in his head. He wiped at his eyes with his left hand, the world finally coming into focus. He recognized the facial marks. Butterfly family. Likely royalty. He’d seen her picture. The forbidden section of the spell book! He knew her, somehow.

“Eclipsa,” he guessed.

“One and the same,” she cooed, as she massaged Marco’s arm. “I suppose my great-great… well... my granddaughter has told you all about me.”

“She… uh… she said that you were crystallized because you were evil.”

“Hm,” she said looking around. “And yet, there’s a distinct lack of crystal around me now. So how evil can I be, really?”

He started to get his bearings. “Wait. You shouldn’t be around me. My arm….”

“Is perfectly normal, see?” She moved her hands away to show him. His arm was whole, normal, and completely unlike a tentacle.

“How… how did you do that?”

“I simply asked it to, silly boy,” she said.

“But… but how?”

She brought her chair close to Marco, making it possible for her to lean onto his bed, so that she could see him eye-to-eye. He noticed her cat-like eyes, the fact that she smelled like roses, and the hum of energy, electric and thick, that seemed to emanate from her.

“I can show you, you know,” she whispered, as she ran her fingers down his arm. “How to control it. I can show you many, many things. A boy like you… a boy with such remarkable will and daring… a boy with such potential.”

She leaned back, mussing his hair slightly before running her hand down his cheek. “If you want, that is. It has to be your decision.”

“But… how will I….”

“You’ll have to find me before I tell you any more,” she said, gliding to the door. “You know, tonight would be a perfect night to admire the roses under the moonlight.”

Marco lifted his hand to his face after she closed the door. “She just asked you to do this, and you just did it.” He noticed that his head no longer hurt. He felt great, in fact. “She has better control of my body than I do.”

He blushed, realizing what he said. “I mean, I… ugh.” He curled up under the covers, thinking of his arm, the moonlight, and roses.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Dani’s Birthday Fic!!

@starshiphufflebadger had a birthday on August 11 (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DANI!) and ran a birthday fic challenge. I got so exhausted from the overtime at work that I ran out of steam and couldn’t write anything. Then I started something, decided it wasn’t personal enough, and pitched it. Then I decided I didn’t like the second thing. Then I finally had a stroke of inspiration and was able to come up with an idea - it’s just been finding sit-down time to write it for the last four days. Well, Dani... I finally finished it. And I’m so sorry it took so long, but I hope it’s good enough that you forgive me!

“You know, normal people listen to medical advice” (Leonard)

Shore leave was drawing near its end, and as a result, Dani was enjoying her last day at the beach. She’d been up before dawn after checking the tide chart, determined to see the the ocean life in the tide pools. Squelching across the mucky shoreline as the tide reached its lowest point, Dani admired the sunrise cresting over the horizon. She was so caught up in the oranges and pinks streaking across the morning sky, she stepped through a patch of seaweed, soaking her flip flops with the decaying mess. Making a disgusted face, she slipped them off and went to swish them in the nearby tide pool.

As she disturbed the still water of the tide pool, she saw tiny crabs scuttling under rocks, and a snail lazily creeping across a rock at the bottom of the pool. And then she notice a blue ring. Dani carefully pulled her flip flops out of the tide pool and waited for the water to still, keeping her eye on the blue ringed octopus that was looking agitated from her disruption.

Dani had studied the octopus at the Academy, and knew better than to poke at it, as tempting as it was to see those beautiful blue rings again. Fortunately for her, the octopus sighted a small crab and set upon it, the bright blue rings flashing again. Dani was so caught up in watching the octopus that she didn’t notice the storm rolling in, and was taken unaware by the sudden change in pressure as the wind picked up. She scrambled to the shore and back to her hotel, but by the time she got there was dripping wet from the lashing rain.

The floor of the hotel was polished marble, and Dani’s flip flops had been no match for the slipperiness of them before she was soaked. Still caught up in the joy of seeing the beautiful, tiny octopus, she mindlessly wandered through the lobby, slipping and landing hard on her tailbone. She saw stars, it hurt so badly. Before she could scramble to her feet, embarrassed and breathless, someone in barefeet and swim trunks was at her side.

“Take it easy, kid, you took quite a spill.” The soothing drawl of the ship’s CMO drew her in, and she felt her cheeks flush even brighter red.

“Doctor McCoy,” she muttered. “Of course. Because this couldn’t possibly be more mortifying.” Everyone in the bio labs thought McCoy was hot. And now he was standing at her side, casually topless with sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, and baggy Hawaiian print trunks in a blindingly bright pattern that emphasized the trail of soft hair descending below his waistband. She felt breath catch, equal parts embarrassment and arousal. She pushed herself to her knees, and tried to push herself back to her feet. A blinding pain shot down her leg and she groaned, and slumped back on her hip.

“Stubborn,” he commented, with a wry smile. “Come on, let’s try that again, and I’ll help this time.” He slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her propel herself back to her feet. The pain wasn’t as bad once she stood up, but it was still enough that when she tried to move toward the elevator, she hobbled.

“What a way to end shore leave,” she grumbled. McCoy laughed.

“I have my tricorder and med kit back in my room. Come on, I’ll check you over, see what we can do for you,” he insisted, selecting his floor from the panel on the elevator wall. He kept his arm looped in Dani’s as they exited the elevator, and helped her to sit gingerly on the plush sofa in his room while he rummaged in his duffel bag for his med kit. “I know this is probably just adding insult to injury, but I’m gonna need you to lie down on your side so I can assess that tailbone.”

Dani groaned and tentatively brought her legs up on the couch before rolling on her side for him, glad she could bury her scarlet face in the pillows. The tricorder chirped a short series of beeps, and from behind her McCoy made a sound of approval.

“Good news, kid, it’s broken, it’s not displaced and I can fix it right now. Just hold still for me. Don’t run off anywhere,” he announced.

“Even if I wanted to run off, I’m kind of slow right now,” she replied, her tone dry.

“You’re in the bio labs, right?” He asked, as something began whirring quietly behind her.

“Yeah. I specialized in marine biology and then did a secondary speciality in xenobiology with a focus in aquatic life,” Dani explained. McCoy made a sound of approval.

“I seem to recall reading a paper you wrote on the medical applications of Andorian Eel slime in wound treatment,” he commented. “It was well rationalized. Did I hear they’re starting clinical trials on that back on Earth?”

“Yeah, it’s actually really cool. In situations where dermal regeneration is not available or feasible, a compound made from the slime can be used to stimulate cell regeneration in minor wounds,” Dani explained.

“Let me guess, you learned this from practical trials? On a human subject?” He teased.

“I sliced my finger open on a piece of broken glass, and dropped the eel. When I picked him up, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than making sure he wasn’t harmed. By the time I got Ed sorted, my finger was healed, and there was just eel slime left,” Dani admitted.

“Ed?” McCoy asked with a chuckle.

“Ed,” Dani confirmed.

“You named the eel?” He asked.

“Of course I did. He has the funniest personality and -” she started, indignant.

“That’s fantastic,” he interrupted. “I named my cadaver in med school. Yorrick.”

“Gross,” Dani snorted, and then noticed the whirring had stopped. The pain in her backside had lessened considerably as well. “Are you finished already?”

“I am,” McCoy confirmed. “You are ready to go. Just be a little more careful, would you?”

Dani sat up and wiggled a little, confirming the pain was, in fact, gone. “Thank you so much, Doctor McCoy,” she smiled, slipping her flip flops back on before standing. They squeaked a little, still wet from the rain.

“Anytime, Lieutenant,” he smiled and gestured to the window. The rain had stopped and the sun was coming out. “You could probably hit the beach again.”

Dani smiled and started toward the door, hurrying to get back outside before the tide came in. She started to slip again, her arms flailing as she tried to regain her balance, and Doctor McCoy was suddenly beside her, helping her regain her footing. “You know, normal people listen to medical advice,” he teased.

“I don’t recall any being offered,” Dani retorted, feeling comfortable enough with the doctor to be a little sassy.

“I said to be more careful. Marble floors are still slippery, you know?” He laughed.

“I didn’t realize that was a prescription for ongoing care,” she chuckled.

“Alright then, how about this Rx? Lunch, stat. Take with Doctor McCoy, and follow-up in the evening?” he flirted. Dani felt her cheeks burn again and looked down at her feet, conscious of her cut-off shorts and tank top, and disheveled appearance from the rain and wind at the beach.

“I suppose those are doctor’s orders and I can’t refuse?” She asked, feeling awkward.

“Every patient has the right to refuse treatment,” he said, looking crestfallen.

“I’d be much more interested in getting a coffee and sandwich with Leonard,” Dani explained, suddenly aware that he still had his arm looped through hers, holding her up.

“Given that you seem to be struggling with your balance today, how about we order room service, and just get to know one another a little more?” He agreed. Dani nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to the plush couch. He offered her a bottle of water from the mini fridge and then called down for lunch to be brought before sitting down at the other end of the couch and facing her.

“Thanks, by the way,” Dani offered, feeling self-conscious again.

“For what?” He looked confused.

“Helping me out. Healing my ass. Not embarrassing me too badly. Leaving my dignity somewhat intact?” She let out a soft huff of laughter as a broad smile spread across Leonard’s face.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you for a date for a while. Falling on your ass was a gift from heaven, as far as I’m concerned,” he grinned. “Now tell me more about Ed the eel.”

[juliaisabellphoto]

May 2019 - Mental Health Awareness Month

Though this has mostly turned into a travel blog, I want to take some pause from my usual routine to discuss something extremely important to me: mental health awareness month. Mental health is slowly but surely becoming something that we humans are okay with talking about, and that makes my heart happy. However, we still have a long way to go. We still lose too many young people who lose their battles with depression, anxiety, etc. We still have so many generations of soldiers who have been taught to “man up” instead of working to understand the medical reality of PTSD. We still have too many people who say that medication is “not for them” when in reality it could save their life. 

With that, the world could benefit from more openness about mental health. My biggest resolution this year has been to be an emotional open book. I have tried to be realistic about where my heart is: I have posted on instagram and twitter about how hard being abroad has been on my mental health, and about the reality of pushing through it and what helped me do so. We need to normalize the fact that everyone has their deep dark heavy days, and that they should feel comfortable sharing that with the people they love. Learning to do so is not easy, and it is always a process, especially when we are raised to put only our “best self” into the world.

Going into the month, I want to open up a door for people who haven’t spent time thinking on mental health to do so. This month is about awareness, reduction of stigma, and compassion. 

Here are some organizations that are really doing the best work with regard to mental health. If you want to donate this month, donate here. If you need somewhere to get involved, these are also your spots. The names of every organization or individual I mention have links embedded. 

Hope for the Day - This organization, focused on outreach, education, and community action, works to equip people with the tools to foster proactive suicide prevention in professional, academic, and civic environments. They also have a coffee shop in Chicago, IL called Sip of Hope, the first coffee shop where 100% of the proceeds support proactive suicide prevention and mental health education. This is a rallying point for resources and engagement, a social enterprise powering HFTD’s Proactive Prevention work. I had the pleasure to visit this place and hear about all that they do, and it was truly breathtaking. Additionally, their instagrams for both HFTD and Sip of Hope are lovely. They post some really lovely and important reality checks as well as posting updates about their work. As noted in their slogan, it’s okay not to be okay. 

Bring Change 2 Mind - Founded by Glenn Close, this organization focuses on nationwide reduction of mental health stigma. They achieve this through video “PSAs” that are aired on television and social media sites as well as large advocacy events. They recruit famous athletes and artists to speak at their events and show that mental illness affects everyone, no matter how “strong” they seem or how happy society tells them they should be. Bring Change 2 Mind also has many high school and college chapters in an attempt to start education about mental health at the time when it is most needed. 

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention/Out of the Darkness Walks - Present in many communities and at many college campuses, AFSP hosts walks all across the country to “give people the courage to open up about their own struggle or loss, and the platform to change our culture’s approach to mental health.” I attended the walk at the University of Michigan this past year, and I had never felt less alone before. There were beaded necklaces you could put on to express your personal relationship to mental illness, resource tables, donation booths, discussion areas, and anything anyone could possibly want to know about where all of the donated funds would go (mental health research initiatives.) Particularly on college campuses, this organization is a gem. 

To Write Love On Her Arms - To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire, and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery. Formed after a personal struggle with depression and addiction, this organization has a beautifully personal story and focuses on spreading the idea that better days are always ahead. There are so many ways to get involved with this organization, so do it!! 

Project Semicolon - Based on the grammatical idea of a sentence that isn’t finished yet, this project focuses on active suicide prevention. Their slogan is “your story isn’t over,” and has inspired many people to get semicolons tattooed on their wrists as a constant reminder of that. They have a section on their website where you can interactively examine your own mental health, including help lines and resources specifically for teens. 

Brain and Behavior Research Foundation - This organization focuses more closely on the clinical side of things, and donating here helps support grants given to researchers working on resolutions to mental illnesses (as well as palliative care methods.) Here is where you can find all of the information on the clinical aspects of mental illnesses as well as see updates on cutting edge research being done. Right up my pre-med alley, but also should be up everyone’s alley - education about the clinical aspects of mental illness helps cement the reality that it is just that - a clinical illness. 

The Trevor Project - The Trevor Project is the leading national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer & questioning (LGBTQ) young people under 25. They work in primary crisis intervention (with extremely accessible help lines on their website) as well as research, educational outreach, and film. This project is uniquely important because it acknowledges that the unique trauma faced by LGBTQ youth lends itself to a number of distinct mental health challenges, and allows for specific responses. 

Next, I want to highlight some celebrities and social media accounts that are wonderful to follow in their attempt to be open about mental health and support others who struggle in the way that they do. They’re worth following and reading about, especially if you want to feel less alone! 

1. Kevin Love - the article linked under his name says it all. Through his openness about panic attacks and mental health struggles as an NBA player, he is leading the fight against “masculinity” stigma in sports. Athletes coming out as proponents of mental health education is becoming more common, and his openness has jumpstarted that movement. 

2. Lady Gaga - Through her involvement in the movie A Star is Born, Lady Gaga was propelled to the front of a discussion about drug abuse and mental health. Linked under her name is her speech at the Grammys where she openly discusses mental health and sets an example for what every person with a voice as big as hers should be doing. She has also opened up about her own mental health struggles.

3. Ariana Grande - Arguably the most popular singer in the world at the moment, Ariana has used her music to work through her own personal struggles with mental health, and everyone is loving it. Specifically, her song “breathin” works through her struggle with anxiety and really represents the reality of getting through panic. The article linked under her name discusses her comments on the song and the way it has already helped so many fans. It certainly is my go-to on my most anxious days. 

4. Logic - Highlighted by his stunning 2018 Grammys Performance, Logic has been outspoken about mental health both in and out of his music. He played a concert called “Who Can Relate?” in combination with a lot of mental health organizations (Bring Change 2 Mind included) at the University of Michigan, inspiring many college students to think about their mental health (now to be repeated in other locations.) His song 1-800-273-8255 (the national suicide hotline) is breathtaking, and what so many people need to hear. 

5. Kesha - After a tumultuous few years, Kesha has gone public about mental health issues, including eating disorders. This comes after a long legal entanglement with her former producer Lukasz “Dr. Luke” Gottwald, who she was sexually assaulted by during their time working together. She told Billboard that she’s working on new music that will “showcase my vulnerabilities as a strength and not as a weakness.” Her most recent album did exactly that, and it is incredible to watch someone who went through such dark times grow and thrive. We need her. She also released a movie, Rainbow, about the mental health struggles she experienced when writing her most recent album. 

6. Brandon Marshall - In this phenomenal article and his work with Bring Change 2 Mind, Brandon has opened up about his struggles with mental health and the dissonance that comes with being a “big macho football player” while going through all of it. He said, “When I first heard the term “mental health,” the first thing that came to mind was mental toughness. Masking pain. Hiding it. Keeping it inside. That had been embedded in me since I was a kid. Never show weakness. Suck it up. Play through it. Live through it.Now, I realize that mental health means the total opposite.” This is critical. 

Below are some authors and poets and speakers I turn to for guidance with regard to mental health, and who tell stories beautifully and in a deeply personal way:

Rebecca Solnit 

Leslie Jamison 

Ned Vizzini 

Neil Hilborn

Tallulah Willis

Here is a link to a million TED talks on mental health that are both informative and inspiring.  

Below are mental health related instagram accounts to make your feed more well rounded and encouraging and healthy: 

Recipes for Self Love 

By Maria Andrew 

Hope for the Day 

Make Daisy Chains 

Brene Brown 

Breaking Taboo

Mental Health Daily

Lastly, here is a link to the playlist I blast in my headphones on hard mental health days. It’s pretty personal, but it has a lot of songs with good lyrics and melodies to push you through.

[sparoundtheworld-blog]

Wellness around the world

When the book ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ came out it seemed obvious why it was so successful.  As an ambitious and driven woman yearning to find her career passion alongside a big, adventurous balanced life, this book hit home and I don’t think I was alone. Most of my close friends and colleagues dreamed of doing or being more too.  

The truth is, the search for whatever “more” was to me, started decades earlier. Growing up in a small southern town, I was the slightly unique girl that managed to float relatively easily between the different cliques and social norms in my environment. I enjoyed and got along with almost everyone.  All the while, I felt I was destined for a faster paced, more exciting (in my naïve eyes) big city.  

Having been absolutely unable to stop singing and dancing as well as being crystal clear that I was meant to be a big Broadway star (who then went on to direct blockbuster movie musicals), I pursued my dreams with fearlessness and gusto!   If I wanted to do an improvised dance piece for an audience, I just did it, if I wanted to choreograph the big tap number for the kid’s theatre group, I naturally took charge and made it happen.  I started the dance team in my high school when there wasn’t one and I didn’t think twice about doing it, I simply made it happen.

When I decided to quit being a professional singer and actress and commit to being a spa manager, I felt as if I went through a break up. I was heartbroken that the industry I had loved my whole life was not the dream I’d thought it could be.  I was talented enough to work relatively consistently, yet I rarely felt authentic and was always searching for my own voice.  I performed on cruise ships, did a lot of regional and off-Broadway theatre, was in a few bands and I sang on tour in a Broadway show all over the world and worked with and performed with legendary icons. At auditions, I tried subconsciously to be what I thought the casting directors were looking for in hopes of landing the job.  Ultimately, I became disillusioned and that’s when I discovered I was good at something else…. (sound the trumpets) Customer service.

I enjoyed my ‘survival’ job as we called them then, of being a receptionist in a busy NYC spa.  I loved talking about products and interacting with guests.  I quickly moved up and it felt very natural to grow in this new environment.  I used my acting skills along the way when needed but for the most part, I truly liked being part of a company, participating in the growth of a brand and ultimately discovering that leadership was in my blood.

Cut to almost 15 years in the spa and wellness industry and I’m on a beach in Costa Rica having just booked my ticket only a few days earlier.  What was my purpose?  I had grown to not only love this industry but adore and admire the people I connected with along the way.  It was so much fun to be an equal and smart businessperson alongside these other smart, driven people sharing ideas, best practices and even antidotes of our crazier moments. It was inspiring to move up and become part of a huge corporation with a strong vision that I got to be help facilitate. I felt proud to represent the companies and brands I worked for.  So how come I felt burned out and unfulfilled?

Standing on the beach with my toes in the sand, I promised myself I’d make my mark on the world and do something awesome.  Now as I approach middle age (gasp), what happened to that fearless young girl whose world revolved around the magic of theatre?  Surely I have not reached my full potential.

After my own personal ‘Eat Pray Love’ trip involving a few weeks in St. Thomas BVI, a week alone learning to surf in Costa Rica and a week with business colleagues learning to ski in Steamboat Springs CO, I made a big move. Still trying to find my way, I accepted a new, bigger job that I had hoped would be my dream job in a new city. Sadly it wasn’t, and even though I didn’t know what I was going to do next at the time, I knew it was time to seriously reevaluate.  

Then, my father died suddenly.  Let me tell you, when you quit your big fat job, leave your friends and home across the country and then your biggest supporter and constant ear is gone…. The world is a totally new and different place.  So here I am sitting at my mother’s kitchen table watching endless webinars, reading multiple self-help books and trolling LinkedIn for some sort of inspiration.  

WHAT am I yearning to do? As most good slightly controlling driven people do, I wrote a list.

1.       Travel – I have inherited my father’s wanderlust and absolutely LOVE to explore and visit pretty much anywhere.

2.       Wellness or balance – I’ve lost my way and am not in my best shape physically or probably mentally so this is also a personal quest.

3.       Products – I love love love products and have rarely met one I didn’t like. Drug stores are like candy stores to me and a sparkly Sephora or well-appointed spa is my crack.

4.       Leading a team – being part of a bigger picture and leading a team feeds my soul.  The best compliment I have ever received was from a former assistant who said my development of her propelled her career and that I’d made a positive impact on her.

5.       Genuinely helping and caring – big and small scale.  Being even the tiniest part of someone’s experience that they will cherish is an amazing gift.  Heck I grew up going to Disney world, I will always believe in magic, it’s in my DNA.

6.       The Spa and Wellness industry in general – I did not grow up going to a spa so when I did start working in one it was a whole new exciting world!  That feeling has never worn off as I see trends change and evolve and provide help, healing, and relaxation for people.  

7.       Looking and Feeling great- this one is tough because I rarely feel like I look or feel my best but I strive for it.  Getting a treatment or even better, creating a treatment with therapists/estheticians is fantastic. Everyone should get a massage and a facial often. Seriously.  

8.       Alternative healing and beauty- this is vague passion but I’ll sum it up: I like it all. Cranioscral, Reiki, acupuncture, Yoga….you name it I am down for it.

9.       Medical spa services – I know, it’s a contradiction but not to me. I’m an equal opportunist, I believe in Natural and organic products for some things and believe in science for others.  Plus, being in this industry I’m a little vain and am not above a little botox to remove the angry eleven from my forehead.

10.   Travel – yup, it shows up again and again. I’m not sure if this means I travel on my own or being a guest at some of the world’s beautiful spas and wellness centers. I’d hoped that my previous “dream job” would take me all over the world but alas, it is up to me at this point to make my global dreams come true.

Having made this list, I realize I’d like to combine all of these but how?  This my friends is the moment of inspiration…… I will go in search of wellness around the globe and share it with you.  I’ll document my journey with blog posts and videos.  Having been previously sidelined with obstacles, many self-imposed, I now rally my inner strength. I hear my Dad’s voice in my head saying, “you got this Jilly” and I slap on some sunscreen and go.  

[thefilmfatale]

HIDDEN FIGURES (2016) 

There’s something about biopics and “untold true stories” in general that make me skeptical. Maybe it’s the air of weightiness that comes with adapting a story based on real events and characters, that sense of obligation to do right by them. Perhaps it’s the expectation that something new and revelatory will be told with cinema as the medium. Maybe it’s because films in this genre usually become shoo-ins (shoos-in?) during awards season, just like anyone who takes their clothes off or cries a lot automatically becomes an Oscar nominee. So going into Hidden Figures, I confess I had reservations. But, since I loved the premise of the movie and adored the cast, I was compelled to see it in theaters. A story about the unsung black heroines of NASA, an organization notorious for being a WASPy sausagefest - yeah, count me in.

The film stars Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monàe as three of NASA’s finest minds who literally helped propel men to the moon. Henson plays Katherine Johnson, a mathematical prodigy who was instrumental in calculating the launch and landing trajectories of NASA’s shuttles. Spencer is Dorothy Vaughan, a pioneer in the computing world. And Monàe is Mary Jackson, the first black, female aeronautical engineer. Hidden Figures tells the story of these prolific women - a story of perseverance in a male-dominated field and a segregated society. It’s an untold true story all right, but it’s one that understandably carries tremendous weight, especially in light of #OscarsSoWhite and the Black Lives Matter movement. In short, it’s a film that couldn’t be more relevant. 

Hidden Figures has an interesting story, in no small part due to its characters being so different and the actresses who portray them being charming and captivating. But what makes Hidden Figures uniquely fascinating is its invitation to observe the inner workings of an organization usually known for its political agnosticism. The film asks the question: in a climate of racial tension and Cold War paranoia, how does an organization like NASA take a stand? It’s a question that is especially relevant, considering the current political climate in the United States and reports of government agencies gone rogue in protest of gag orders from Donald Trump’s dictatorial regime. NASA’s single-mindedness in its focus to win the space race paved the way for illumination on social issues such as racism and sexism. In the quest for science and achievement, it seemed counter to NASA’s mission to disadvantage the brightest minds in the country because of outdated, bigoted government regulations. So instead of holding back these bright black women, they uplifted them, radically going against conventions in the name of scientific conquest. However, it does bring up the point that organizations will sometimes only make the right choice if it affects their bottom line. Because NASA’s existence was dependent on their continued success (and as such, their need to employ the best and the brightest no matter their gender or skin color), it makes you wonder whether theirs was merely an act of self-preservation and not entirely altruistic. But perhaps the lesson here is that it was a small step for civil rights that ultimately became a giant leap for mankind.   

It was also fascinating to see the struggles of these women of color in a field as progressive as science. We’ve never heard their stories before, and to see them play out on screen was enlightening. As someone who didn’t grow up with US history and wasn’t as exposed to the country’s past with slavery, I was genuinely taken aback by the examples of racism that the film chose to highlight. For instance, it never occurs to us that in a place as prestigious and progressive as NASA, black women had to worry about something as quotidian as going to the bathroom. It was poignant, heartbreaking, and extremely effective at painting the picture of a segregated society that deemed black folk as second class citizens. There was also a scene where Henson’s Katherine Johnson, who was the only black woman in NASA’s Space Task Group, goes to get a cup of coffee and realizes that she has been given a separate coffee pot labeled “colored”, only because her ogling, white male colleagues were too disgusted by the idea of sharing a coffeepot with a negro. Watching those uniquely black experiences unfold on screen was insightful and evocative, really emphasizing the ugliness of the prejudice they were constantly subjected to.

Another interesting aspect of the film - and this was a lot more subtle - was its exploration of the ways in which minorities resist when they are being marginalized. Some say that the women in the film were able to advance because of pure, old-fashioned meritocracy. Their protest was to be exemplary in their field. This is the stance of many people in various industries when it comes to tackling issues of race and discrimination. Instead of Affirmative Action, these POCs think they should instead pursue roles where they are highly visible and clearly successful, in order to pave the way for more acceptance and appreciation for diversity in the workplace. On the other hand, there are those who believe that equal treatment must be demanded persistently. Octavia Spencer’s Dorothy Vaughan, for example, repeatedly asks her white female superior (played by Kirsten Dunst) about a promotion that she is certain she is being denied because of the color of her skin, a sentiment she never expresses to her superior’s face precisely because an accusation of blatant discrimination could torpedo her career. Mary Jackson’s husband brings up the need to get out in the streets, protest and be angry and vigilant. The film does a great job talking about these different types of protest, something I’m sure many POCs could relate to, as these are familiar discussions they likely have within their own communities.  

Another subtle issue that the film addresses: intersectionality. We see the tensions between Kirsten Dunst’s character and Octavia Spencer’s, which is meant to be representative of the rifts in the feminist movement about inclusivity. There is an exchange between the two characters where Dunst, after having treated Spencer’s character demeaningly for years, says “I have nothing against y’all.” To which Spencer’s Vaughan replies, “I know. I know you probably believe that.” This was a very interesting choice of words. It deliberately highlights the lack of understanding that many in the feminist movement have when it comes to privilege, specifically white female privilege (there are varying degrees of this, of course - those of Asian descent, for instance, enjoy a privilege that those of Latino descent do not). Dunst’s character is likely all about female empowerment, but when it comes to elevating black women, does not feel that this advantages her, so she is by default against it. This is an issue that continues to play out today, unfortunately. Just look at the Fisher vs the University of Texas case, where a white woman argues against affirmative action because she believes it advances POCs, as if she herself has not benefited from some level of affirmative action for being a woman. So in a subtle way, Hidden Figures confronts this problem by emphasizing that elevating women of color advantages all women.  

I also really liked that the film touched on the idea of obsolescence in the workforce because of the advent of machines. I was amazed when I realized that before the personal machine computer, “computers” were just people doing manual calculations for the most amazing things. There is a scene in the film where NASA receives their first IBM machine and they don’t quite know what to do with it. It was amusing to see the brightest minds in the country completely flummoxed by this bulky, ugly hunk of metal. But at the same time, the idea that there was this machine that could sift through data faster than the human brain…it was a reasonable and understandable threat to the women who were doing these manual calculations, a threat that is increasingly relevant in our age of automation, drones and the prospect of self-driving cars.   

The film comes with some expected exaggerations; for example, a scene featuring Kevin Costner’s Al Harrison - leader of NASA’s Space Task Group - destroying a “Colored Women’s Bathroom” sign in a loud, grand gesture of allyship with his black, female subordinates, was a bit cringeworthy and heavy handed. It did raise the point, however, that allyship is important and that there are no struggles out there that marginalized groups can take on all on their own. I do wish that the antagonists in the film were a little more interesting than being mere sneering naysayers, which was essentially all of what Jim Parsons did in the role of Katherine’s smug and entitled boss.  

It’s not unusual for biopics to take some liberties in their storytelling, but sometimes the extent to which a particular message is driven home can be tiresome. The writing in this film wasn’t exceptional, and there were several lines that made my eyes roll in the back of my head (”In NASA, we all pee the same color” - ugh). There was also the repeated aphorism “That’s just the way things are,” which failed to be emphatic after the nth time it was uttered. The way the romances were set up also seemed to be afterthoughts. I wanted a little bit more from Mahershala Ali’s character, and I wanted to see more tension in Mary Jackson’s marriage because of the role reversal of her being the breadwinner for her family. Finally, my last complaint is the music. While I like Pharrell, it really wasn’t necessary to have several of his songs featured prominently in the film in lieu of a traditional score. Some of the songs took me out of the film because they were distracting or didn’t quite fit with the scenes they were accompanying.

At the end of the day, these are but quibbles, and I was thoroughly entertained by Hidden Figures. While it was formulaic (and somewhat cheesy) in the way we’ve grown accustomed to in biopics, its subject matter is inherently groundbreaking, making it enjoyable to watch. Taraji P. Henson was her usual flawless self in the film, and her exasperated, indignant outburst towards the end of the film is a truly memorable, applause-worthy moment. 

[kacydeneen]

Is the Keto Diet Safe? Everything You Need to Know

An estimated 45 million Americans go on diets each year to improve their eating habits or lose weight. And while there's no shortage of diets to choose from, the latest weight-loss trend gaining an increasing number of followers is the ketogenics diet.

Halle Berry, Katie Couric and Al Roker are among the growing list of celebrities who stand behind the "keto" diet. They have attributed their weight-loss success to its low-carb formula. After losing 50 pounds following the keto plan, Vinny Guadagnino from MTV's "Jersey Shore" became one of the diet's biggest advocates. The reality star even launched a second Instagram account, @KetoGuido, which boasts over 700,000 followers, to document his new meaty lifestyle.

US Experts Reviewing Low-Carb, Other Diets for Guidelines

But what exactly is keto? Its popularity aside, is the keto diet healthy and sustainable? Here are some answers to your top questions about keto:

What is the Keto Diet?

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The keto diet is a low- to no-carbohydrate diet that helps the body to burn fat by forcing it into a state of ketosis, a metobolic process where the body uses fat instead of carbs as its fuel source. Keto is intended to be a short-term diet, according to Ruth Frechman, a registered dietitian nutritionist, targeting rapid weight loss while reportedly curbing food cravings and boosting mood, mental focus and energy.

The diet was originally introduced in the 1920s as therapy for children suffering from epilepsy after several studies indicated that the ketone chemical produced during the breakdown of fat for fuel could help to reduce their seizures.

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It was developed for weight loss decades later by Dr. Gianfranco Cappello, a professor of surgery at the University La Sapienza in Rome. Cappello tested the diet in a study that spanned between 2006 and 2011, and found that it helped more than 19,000 participants lose an average of 22 pounds in 25 days. 

"The treatment is safe, fast, inexpensive and has good one-year results for weight maintenance," he wrote in the study’s findings published in 2012.

What Foods Can You Eat on the Keto Diet?

Keto is similar to other low-carb, high-fat diets like Atkins and South Beach.  The standard keto meal plan calls for consuming 75% of daily calories from fat, 20% from protein and 5% from carbohydrates. 

According to Franziska Spritzler, a registered dietician and certified diabetes educator, these are some of the foods you can eat on the keto diet:

Meats

Fats and high fat oils like butter, olive oil and mayonnaise

Low carb vegetables like avocado, spinach and broccoli

High fat dairy like cheese, heavy cream and sour cream

Nuts

Seafood

Eggs

Spices

Berries (sparingly)

Artificial sweeteners like Stevia and sucralose (sparingly)

What Foods Can't You Eat on the Keto Diet?

Fruits

Grains and starches

Breaded or cured meats

Root vegetables like potatoes, carrots and beets

Legumes

Sweeteners

Sweets like candy and chocolate

Some oils: canola, sesame, sunflower

Sweetened drinks

Low-fat dairy items, which often have added sugar 

Sweetened sauces and dips like ketchup, barbecue sauce, some salad dressings

For a more comprehensive list of foods you can and can't eat on keto, click here.

Can You Drink Alcohol on the Keto Diet?

While the keto diet does not ban alcohol specifically, alcoholic beverages that contain carbohydrates and more calories, such as beer, cocktails and mixed drinks, should be avoided. However, hard liquors, dry wine and champagne all fall within the guidelines of keto if consumed in moderation. Women shouldn't drink more than one drink per day, while men should stick to no more than two.

Is the Keto Diet Safe?

Some doctors and nutritionists say following a keto diet is considered safe for people who are healthy and eat heart-healthy fats. Studies have shown that it is able to accelerate weight loss in some dieters, reduce seizures in children with epilepsy and improve blood sugar control for patients with Type 2 diabetes. Many who follow a keto plan also noted an improvement on their mental focus. 

But restricting one's carbohydrate intake doesn't come without side effects. For some dieters, this restriction can cause "keto flu." Common symptons of the keto flu include fatigue, dehydration, brain fog, dizziness and insomnia.

Ruth Frechman, a registered dietitian and author of "The Food Is My Friend Diet," told NBC that ketosis is not a "pleasant experience." The rapid weight loss it causes from the burning of fat calories is a result of water loss from muscles. From there, according to Mary Jane Detroyer, a New York-based nutritionist and certified dietitian, the body goes into survival mode, which means that it holds onto fat while losing muscle. When the diet is over and the person goes back to eating normally, their body begins rebuilding muscle, thereby making it much easier gain back the lost weight, Detroyer added. 

"In my opinion, Keto is another fad diet setting a person up for failure,” said Frechman. “Who can sustain a diet of 80% fat that was originally meant for child epilepsy? I have had clients on keto, and their cholesterol levels have gone up."

According to Dr. Lisa Young, private practice nutritionist and adjunct professor of nutrition at New York University, most scientists reject the keto diet because it is both too limiting and deprives people of healthy foods.

“It is a poor choice — it eliminates entire food groups along with healthy food choices and nutrients in those groups,” Dr. Young, who has also written "Finally Full, Finally Slim" and "The Portion Teller Plan," told NBC. “[There is] no need to cut all carbs — fruits and whole grains are super healthy.” 

To reduce your risk of heart disease and cancer, experts say it is better to eat a balanced diet that also includes fruits, vegetables and whole grains.

"No diets are a good choice," Detroyer told NBC. "We don't need fad diets, we need to be connected to our body and what it tell us. No one can tell you how much to eat, even a dietitian. Only your body can tell you this."

Should You Take MCTs on the Keto Diet?

If you're a follower of the ketogenic diet, than you may have heard the words "MCT oil." MCT, or medium-chain triglyceride, is a type of fatty acid derived primarliy from coconut oil. It is very popular among keto dieters due to its crave-curbing abilities. MCTs pass from the stomach to the liver much faster than other types of fatty acids and are quickly converted into energy, thereby decreasing the likelihood that the body will store it as fat cells while giving the user an instant power boost.  

Another commonly used supplement is exogenous ketones, a synthetic type of ketone called beta hydroxybtyrate (BHB), which is created naturally by the body.

According to Michelle Milgrim, a nutritionist at Northwell Health in New Hyde Park, N.Y., these supplements reportedly help propel the body into a state of ketosis and stay there when you eat something that's not keto-friendly. But, Milgrim notes, there is little research on the long-term effects to support these claims.

"Only short-duration studies examining small samples have found that exogenous ketones can help achieve ketosis quicker and may decrease appetite," she told Women's Health magazine.

Jaclyn London, Good Housekeeping nutrition director and author of “Dressing on the Side,” reported that keto diet pills could be harmful to your health. According to London, supplements that contain MCT oil can mess with your digestion and many users experience nausea, vomiting, constipation and diarrhea. These supplements can also negatively impact your metabolism. While they initially help to decrease appetite, they have a reverse effect in the long term and ultimately can increase hunger cravings once the dieter stops taking the pills.

"I do not recommend [these supplements],” Young said. “They may give people external hope but as soon as you stop them, you can regain lost weight. I prefer lifestyle changes that people can sustain — choosing healthy foods, portion control, and exercise."

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