#TOS ch1

[meat-worm]

i drew so much rouxls kaard stuff when deltarune ch1 first released... half of it i can't even post here (that's right, this is only the stuff that might squeak past tos!!! the rest is WORSE)

#gore / #blood ? #emeto / #meatworm art #deltarune #deltaruined #rouxls kaard

[bugsinthemachine]

The Warmth Between Bugs in the Machine

previous <– p10 (intermission) –> next

2/14/19 💌

#you ask me: this is how you're announcing you're going to try to continue to update wbbm? #yes #I need to get ch1 done for my star trek zine #hopefully a little into ch2 too #we'll see #happy anniversary #wbbm #star trek tos

[writingfromasgard]

[9.5] A Professional Donation

[Ch1] || [ML] || [AO3] || [taglist]

Cora settled onto Ivar's leather couch, finding the corner to be the most comfortable spot. She pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her eyes found the the three remotes on the coffee table, confusion knitting her brows together.

She toed off her shoes, repositioning them neatly under the coffee table. This wasn't as unfamiliar to her on the job. Occasionally, she would spend time with someone simply existing in the same room or cuddling. She smiled recalling the time James had asked her to watch him do paperwork.

Ivar scooped up all three of the remotes and plopped down on the couch, his head resting in her lap. Her hands itched with the urge to run them through his damp hair. She gave in, letting her nails skim across his scalp. He hummed his approval, flicking on 'Bloodride' to watch.

"I'm proud of you. You handled yourself well tonight." He tilted his head back, looking directly at her.

"I didn't expect James to join us. Did you do that to see how I would react to surprises?" She threaded his hair through her fingers, staring into his ocean eyes.

He smirked, reaching for the back of her neck. "Yes." Their lips met briefly, "And you did so well, Cora. What would you like for your reward?"

Cora pulled her hand away from him. She thought for a long silent minute, ignoring the ominous music from the show. Her eyes moved down to his exposed chest and he chuckled. "Hold me."

His brows shot up, shock on his sharp features. "Is that all?"

She nodded, internally reprimanding herself. He pushed himself up and with some maneuvering, she was laying between his legs, cheek against the center of his chest. His arms rested around her shoulders, fingers playing with the tips of her hair. Listening to his breathing made drowsiness settle over her until a jump scare jolted her up his chest.

"Shhshhsh." Ivar hushed her. He placated ner nerves with a kiss to the temple, a soothing hand rubbing her back. "You said you liked horror."

She rubbed her eyes, blinking slowly. "I do, I like being scared."

Cora looked up at him, a mistake on her part. There was no tension in his face, unshielded concern shone in his eyes and it made her chest tighten. What she wanted and what she knew she should do waged war inside of her mind; silenced only when he pressed a tender kiss to her lips. She melted against him, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

When her lungs burned from the lack of air, she pulled back to his pupils blown with lust. She wiggled against him. He gave her quick pick that had her chasing after his lips.

"None of that tonight, Cora. You asked to be held." Ivar spoke low, barely above a whisper.

She must have been pouting because his shoulders shook with a silent laugh. "What if I want this too?" One of her hands touched his thigh through his sweatpants.

"Tsk, tsk." Ivar touched her nose with his index finger. His smile was playful but for the first time, she could see the exhaustion in his features. "Use your self-control for today."

Cora settled back onto his chest, lazily nuzzling into his warmth. "I'm tired, too."

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her up his chest until she was nestled in the nape of his neck. "I don't want to be alone." His voice strained with the admission. "Can you stay?"

She should say no, remind him of the contract's terms. The emotions in his voice made her chest ache to soothe them. "...yes, I'd like that, too."

He kissed her forehead and went back to playing with her hair, curling it around his finger. Their attention returned to the show, heavily interested in the dark tale playing out before them.

Drowsiness claimed Cora again and this time not even the terror on the screen could rouse her. She felt her eyelids drifting close, getting heavier with each steady breath she took. Ivar called her name a few times but she couldn't muster up anything more than a 'mhm.'

"Sweet girl." He mumbled into her hair. She could feel him inhale against her, smelling his shampoo on her. "It scares me that you can see through me, too."

Cora's eyes remained closed, sleep threading through her mind to claim her. She could feel Ivar shifting her yet couldn't muster the energy to open her eyes.

"Ivar! I'm hoooome!" The voice broke through Cora's thick sleep.

She groaned, becoming aware of the warm body still beneath her. She could feel a thick prodding against her lower belly and sleepily smiled. Her eyes opened to see Netflix asking if they were still watching. She tapped Ivar's chest, testing to see if he'd been woken up.

"Oh fuck, Cora's here." She remembered that voice. It was Hvitserk's and he sounded surprised.

"Mo'ing" She croaked out, pushing her upper body up. She could still feel his morning wood pressing against her.

Ivar's arms came around her fast, pulling her back down onto his chest. "Fuck off, Hvitserk. I'm exhausted from PT."

She swooned. His sleepy voice was deeper and vibrated from within his chest. She slid down his chest, out of his reach until she sat on her knees between his legs. He frowned, cracking open his eyes look at her.

"No can do, little brother. Meetings today and dad doesn't want any of us to be late." Hvitserk leaned on the back of the couch, eyes immediately scanning Cora. "Sorry to steal him away so early. He clearly needs you."

She laughed, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle it. His innuendo toward the stiff tent in Ivar's pants was plainly written on his face.

"Fuck." Ivar cursed, moving to sit his back against the couch. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared at Cora for a long time. "Come here."

He held his hand out to her and she took it, not sure what to expect. Tugging her close, he kissed her several times, each one soft, feathery touches against her lips.

"Thank you." He whispered before the last kiss. "I appreciate you staying last night."

Cora considered what she should say. It had been the most peaceful, easiest night's sleep she had had in years. Even her favorite shows hadn't lulled her into a deep sleep like that. She opted for the truth, knowing she could never lie to him without him recognizing it.

"We both needed it." Cora kissed him one last time before he released her, letting her slide off the couch. "I'll let you two talk in private."

She excused herself, only stopping on her way to the bathroom to grab her phone to arrange a pick-up. She silently cursed, finding it dead. Tom and Yevette must be trying to find her. She knew it was a mistake to -- Her attention dropped to an envelope on the counter with her name written on it.

A pastel tint of money could be seen through the white. She cursed again, realizing he never intended for her to leave after dinner. Every moment with him was planned from eating, relaxing, and even sex. She felt a burrowing in her chest, recognizing it as disappointment, though she couldn't figure out why she felt that way.

She grabbed the envelope and folded it, tucking it into her underwear until she could get to her purse. She stepped out of the bathroom and wandered back to the two brothers who stopped speaking the moment she was within earshot.

"Uhm... my phone died last night." She fidgeted under their stares, holding up the device. "Could you call me a cab?"

"We can give you a ride home." Hvitserk piped up, a smile plastered on his face.

Cora shifted her eyes to Ivar, unsure how to respond to the offer. Knowing where she lived was one line she wouldn't be crossing for anyone.

"We don't want to be late, Hvitserk. My phone's on the kitchen counter. 7-4-3-9 to unlock it." Ivar stood from the couch, wincing.

She hesitated, then nodded, going to use his phone. The whistle from Hvitserk and subsequent comment about trust made her store the words for later analysis. Her fingers dialed Yevette's number -- knowing she could contact a driver to pick her up.

"Ivar! Darling! It's great to hear from you. Have you heard from Cora?" Yevette asked, voice cheery.

"Ah... It's Cora." She whispered into the receiver. "My phone died -- Ivar made a large contribution for me to stay the night and I need a ride home."

"Oh, thank heavens! I was worried he had harmed you last night. Tom said he hadn't been able to contact you. He's sleeping, but I can send Andy over to collect you. Are things working out between you two?" She questioned, clearly more interested in the 'large contribution.'

"Yes, everything's fine. I promise to speak more openly when I get home." Cora glanced over her shoulder, not seeing the two brothers anymore.

"Great, great. Be sure to tip the driver." Yevette disconnected the line without a goodbye, leaving Cora feeling strange.

She re-locked the phone and placed it back on the counter, plugging it into the charge. She hated that she chose a flip phone for her secondary because finding a charger that fit it at someone else's place was impossible.

Opening the fridge, she grabbed a water bottle and went back to the living room to wait for Ivar. She took a deep drink of it, her throat parched from the racing thoughts of last night.

It didn't take long for him to dress. His hair was loose while he wore a fitted dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. She took a moment to appreciate the fit of his slacks. He was leaning heavily on a cane, face in a scowl. With his free hand, he motioned her over with two fingers.

"I have to leave now. Did you call?" Ivar brushed her hair behind her ear.

"They're sending someone to pick me up." She offered the water to him.

"The door will lock automatically behind you. Let me know when you arrive home." He kissed both of her cheeks, pushing the bottle away from her.

"You're going to let me stay until I'm picked up?" Cora's eyebrows lifted.

"Of course. I trust you." He gave her a slow kiss, parting when Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Try not to look so sad. We will see each other soon."

Ivar turned to his brother, both heading out the door. Cora watched him leave, heard the door buzz close and looked down at the water bottle in her hands.

'I trust you.'

She swallowed the emotion in her throat and started getting ready to leave. Those words echoed in her mind until she let out a frustrated groan.

"How can you trust someone like me, Ivar? You don't even know the real me." She felt a sob tear through her. Her vision went blurry with tears. "How- fuck! I promised myself this wouldn't happen. I-I can't fall for him. It's a fucking act, Corey!"

She covered her eyes with her palms, trying to push the tears back into her eyes. Her throat felt constricted with the weight of her emotions. A loud knock came at the door and she glanced back to see a shadowy figure obscured by the frosted glass. She sniffled, wiping her face on a paper towel.

She checked her appearance in the fridge as another knock came. Her arms scooped up her belongings and she stepped to the door, opening it to reveal a man wearing a t-shirt and jeans. He wore shades and a ballcap, chewing something in his mouth.

"I'm here for a pick-up. Yevette sent me." Andy smiled brightly at her, lowering his sunglasses.

"That'd be me. Thank you for the pick-up on such short notice." Cora stepped out of the house and heard the buzzing of the door locking.

#Ivar #ivar fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #a professional donation #adp #not sfw #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #hvitserk x cora

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (18/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~6900 words, teen

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James was shaking. It was like he hadn’t eaten in too long and his blood sugar dropped too low and his body started rebelling against him until he gave it nourishment.

Only this was worse. Much, much worse. He was dizzy and nauseated and crippled with grief.

How had the night gone so wrong? They’d been having fun at the Phillies game, hadn’t they? They’d been laughing and lighthearted, and were so exhausted that they’d been a few minutes away from collapsing into bed together.

Then he’d gone and snooped through Rose’s mail. He should have ignored the letter. He should have asked her what it was, and asked why Jimmy had contacted her.

Would she have told the truth?

He hated that he had to ask that question, and he hated even more that he didn’t have a definitive answer.

His body moved on autopilot down the many flights of stairs of Rose’s building, not entirely aware of his surroundings. It was a miracle he didn’t trip down the steps and break his neck, considering he couldn’t quite feel his feet. He couldn’t feel much of anything apart from the heavy, aching pressure in his chest and the acid roiling in his gut.

James slipped into his dark car, which was still warm from the drive to her flat. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with Rose, holding Rose, snuggling Rose in bed as they drifted to sleep.

Instead, here he was. About to drive home. Alone.

A break. Rose wanted a break. Because he had been such an insensitive arsehole.

But so was she.

Every insecurity he’d shared with Rose, every heartbreaking moment of the aftermath of his parents’ death… had Rose not wanted to hear about any of them? He felt stupid—so stupid—for baring so much of his soul to her without realizing she wasn’t reciprocating. How had he ever thought the nuggets of information she’d dropped for him constituted reciprocity? She had put in the bare minimum of emotional effort, giving him just enough that their communication felt like a two-way street. Did she know what she was doing? Had this been her plan all along? Get him comfortable and familiar with her so he would fall utterly in love with her? So he would have sex with her? Was that all she had been after this whole time? Had she taken advantage of his inexperience and banked on him not realizing she wasn’t putting in as much effort as he was? 

His shoulders shook as he wept into his hands, those ugly, nasty thoughts eating away at his mind until he couldn’t think of anything else. He didn’t want to believe that about Rose. These last four months with her had been nothing short of bliss. He’d never connected with anyone as much as he had with Rose. He was desperate to believe that what they’d had was real. It had to be real. It hurt too much for it all to have been nothing.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the dark before his tears stopped enough for him to turn his car on. The engine growled to life, and the time 12:03 flashed blue in his eyes. Had it only been twenty minutes since he had first pulled up to Rose’s flat? How had twenty minutes completely destroyed the last seven months of their friendship and relationship?

His vision blurred again with fresh tears, but he impatiently rubbed them away to put his car in gear and drive off down the deserted street.

It probably should have bothered him that he didn’t remember driving. Anything could have happened. He could have run every single stop light, could have hit anything or anyone. But he was suddenly home, pulling into his dark driveway sometime later. His house was equally dark. He hadn’t left any lights on because he hadn’t expected to come back here tonight.

The house was dead silent. Not even his cats could deign to greet him. He toed off his shoes by the front door then plopped his keys and wallet into the dish on the cabinet beside it.

“Pip?” he croaked, voice raspy from all the tears he’d shed. “Merry? Gollum?”

There was a tiny chirp from the living room—Pippin and Merry were curled together on the sofa. James frowned. They usually slept in his bed, even on the nights he didn’t come home. He stepped over to them and gave them each a few chin scritches, but they were too drowsy to do much other than purr lightly.

“Where’s Gollum, eh?” he asked them, glancing around the living room. The Siamese wasn’t in the cat tree, or anywhere in sight. After the night he’d had, it would be his luck if Gollum had crawled off somewhere and died.

Whatever. He would look for him in the morning. James wanted nothing more than to strip down to his pants, fall into bed, and not wake up for a few days.

However, those plans were instantly scrapped when he stepped into his bedroom and was greeted with the pungent, acrid odor of ammonia. A huge, reeking damp spot sat in the middle of his bed.

“God-fucking-dammit!” he shouted, kicking his bed frame. 

He cried out and hopped on one foot as his toes burned in agony. His anger surged. Anger at himself, for jumping to conclusions and making too many accusations; anger at Rose, for keeping all of her secrets; anger at Jimmy, for everything he’d done to Rose; anger at his cat, for weeing on his bed when all he wanted to do was sleep and not wake up for a very long time.

James sank onto the edge of his bed—far away from the urine stain—his tears starting up again in earnest. He wanted Rose, and he hated that he wanted her. She had broken his heart more thoroughly than anyone ever had before, yet he still loved her. God, did he love her. 

Was that wrong of him though? Was it unhealthy that he wanted her, wanted to make up with her, after everything they’d said that night? Could they even make up from something like this?

He hoped they could. He hoped they could find some sort of middle ground. What that middle ground looked like, he didn’t know; his brain was too foggy with exhaustion and grief to think about possible resolutions and compromises they could make.

Something vibrated against his thigh. Sniffling and wiping his sleeve across his running nose, James fished his mobile out of his pocket. A new message from Rose.

Did you make it home okay?

He wanted to reply, “What do you care?” but curbed the impulse. That wasn’t fair. If she’d had to drive home at midnight after the argument they’d just had, he would want to know she was safe.

“Yeah,” is all he sent.

Okay. Glad to hear it. Sleep well James.

“Fat fucking chance,” he muttered to his phone, and instead typed out, “Yeah. You too.”

He set his phone face-down on the mattress beside him and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. A throbbing headache was beginning behind his brow. He would love nothing more than to sleep soundly and dreamlessly, but knew that his brain wouldn’t shut down enough for him to get any restful sleep.

Besides, it’s not like his bed was in any sort of state to be slept in.

With a groan, James pushed himself to his feet and tucked his phone into his pocket. He ripped off all the layers of his bedding, cursing when he saw they were soaked down to the mattress cover. Had Gollum held his bladder all goddamn day so he could piss right through everything?

He carried the stinking pile of sheets and blankets to his laundry room and settled in for a long night of washing. He stuffed the duvet into his washer—glad this home used to belong to a single mother of three who had invested in a giant washing machine, and left it behind when she’d moved out—and dumped in two detergent pods before programming a long, hot wash cycle. He then took the rest of his blankets to his kitchen sink.

The sight of two days’ worth of dirty dishes made him want to throw them all against a wall—broken dishes didn’t need to be cleaned. However, the mess of broken dishes would be more taxing. Sucking in a deep breath, he blew it out noisily as he dropped his sheets onto the floor and loaded everything into the dishwasher.

When the sink was empty, he grabbed his blankets and gave them all an individual rinse to hopefully keep the cat urine stain from setting.

It took nearly two dryer cycles for his duvet to be completely dry, and then another two loads of laundry before the rest of his blankets and sheets were clean. To his relief, all traces of cat urine odor were gone.

It was the dead of night by the time he made his bed; if he fell asleep right now, he would get at least four hours in before he would have to get up for classes. Was it worth it to try to sleep? He was keyed up from his middle of the night laundry session and his brain was still too loud. Maybe he should give up on the notion of sleep and try to take a nap after classes. Though would it even be productive if he attended classes?

James flopped onto his back on the fresh duvet, breathing in the scent of clean laundry. He would have to revoke the cats’ bedroom privileges until they—Gollum—proved they could be trusted not to wee on everything.

He sat bolt upright. He hadn’t thought to check the guest bedroom. Grumbling to himself and crossing his fingers, he jogged down the hall, and cursed vehemently under his breath when he smelled cat urine.

What the hell? Should’ve left the stupid arsehole to drown.

Well. He was already awake. In for a penny, and all. Stripping that bed as well, he began the same laundry routine. While that duvet was in the wash, James indulged in a quick shower. The sweat and grime of the previous day coupled with crying his eyes out intermittently for the past few hours made him feel filthy. 

The shower didn’t relax him as much as he’d hoped, not when the evidence of Rose was all around him. He hadn’t realized how completely she had insinuated herself into his home, into his life. Her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sat right beside his, her bottles of pink and yellow keeping company with his blue and red ones.

Firmly ignoring her products, James rushed through his shower, lathering his hair and body in record time. But when he went to his pajama drawer, he was yet again reminded of Rose when he saw a set of her pjs in the drawer too. He couldn’t help but touch them, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingertips as his brain reminded him of all the times he’d pushed her top off before they made love.

His stomach ached with longing. Hurriedly shutting the drawer, James instead moved to grab a pair of boxer-briefs. Rose’s knickers sat in a small pile in that drawer too. Growling in frustration, he grabbed a pair of pants at random and slipped them on before bending to root through his t-shirt drawer. Unsurprisingly, he found several of Rose’s shirts mixed in with his.

How had he not realized how much of Rose existed in his house? How had he not realized that her light and beauty shone through his home, and that she had made it her home too?

Because I loved it. 

And he had. He had loved living with Rose, and had been counting down the days when she would officially move out of her flat and into his house.

His tears nearly started up again when he realized that he may never share a home with Rose if they couldn’t find a way to work through all that had been said. No more sleepy mornings spent giggling and kissing in bed. No more impromptu dance parties in the kitchen just because they felt like being silly. No more late-night chats that sometimes carried them into the wee hours of the mornings. No more exploring every beautiful inch of her body and losing himself in her love and pleasure.

He didn’t particularly care about the prospect of no more sex. Brilliant though it was, he found himself more devastated by the loss of Rose’s friendship than the loss of her body. He had fallen in love with her, and the thought of her not being in his life anymore was agonizing. They’d known each other for seven months, and she had somehow become a constant in his life, an unmovable force that he’d been confident would never be gone.

The unknown was killing him. The uncertainty of whether he and Rose would be able to make up. If they did manage to reconcile, to forgive and heal, would their relationship look the same as it did before?

A distant chime from down the hall told him the wash cycle was finished. Sniffling, James pulled on a soft, worn t-shirt and padded down the hall to continue his laundry. When the duvet was in the dryer and the sheets were in the washer, James started searching for Gollum. As irritated as he was with his cat, he was also concerned; apart from the first week James had brought Gollum home, the feline had never had litter box issues.

Drifting from room to room, James finally found Gollum in the basement—which also doubled as an office space—lying on the desk chair.

“What’s gotten into you, you little menace?” he asked, crouching beside the cat. Gollum didn’t react, making James’s heart lurch. “Gollum?”

He reached out and rested his hand on the cat’s side. Gollum let out a noise between a chirp and a growl.

“Thought you were dead for a minute. What on Earth is your problem, buddy? Are you not feeling well? Is the litter box not clean enough for you? Are you trying to make my shitty day even more shitty?” James sighed, and stroked the top of Gollum’s head. “I’ll call the vet when they open. In the meantime, try not to wee on anything else, yeah?”

Gollum huffed out a breath, then closed his eyes again, drifting off to sleep.

The rest of the night passed listlessly for James. When he wasn’t switching over laundry, he worked on cleaning his house from top to bottom. Anything to keep his mind busy and away from Rose, because otherwise all he could think about was the way he’d raised his voice and talked over her, the way he’d suggested she wasn’t as invested in their relationship as he was, the way she’d sobbed and hugged herself and flinched away from him. And all of that was something he definitely didn’t want to think about.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the distant horizon by the time he’d finished. His house was immaculate. There was not a scrap of unclean fabric anywhere, what with him moving on to washing his clothes and the various towels and blankets strewn around his home.

His eyes burned with exhaustion, and he thought he might be able to get some sleep. He preemptively filled his cats’ food dishes so that they wouldn’t barge into his room in an hour to demand breakfast, then he went into his bedroom and crawled beneath his sheets. Before settling in to try to sleep, he shot off a series of short emails to his various professors, letting them know he wouldn’t be in class that day, and he would arrange with some of his classmates to get their notes. That task finished, James silenced his phone and set it on the nightstand, then tugged his sheets up to his ears.

He hadn’t realized that his bed had begun to smell like Rose until he was surrounded by the scent of laundry detergent rather than her subtle floral aroma. With an intensity that stole his breath away, he was aware of how much he missed Rose. Missing her hurt almost as much as their fight did, because despite everything that had happened, he remained desperately in love with her. He knew that he would do just about anything to try to make things right with Rose, if she would let him. He hoped she would.

That train of thought kept him from getting much sleep. His mind kept replaying their argument over and over again, and it kept coming up with new rebuttals and explanations he wished he could have said instead of losing his temper.

It was ten o’clock by the time James gave up on the idea of getting any more rest. He felt worse now than he had when he’d collapsed into bed four hours ago. Bleary-eyed, James stumbled to the kitchen to begin a pot of coffee. While it brewed, he went to check on Gollum. His food dish beneath his cat tree was full, and the cat himself had barely moved from his position on the office chair.

“All right, bud. Vet time,” James murmured, stroking Gollum’s forehead and cheeks.

He went back upstairs for his phone, and placed a call to the veterinarian’s office. There were no available in-person appointments, but they told James he could drop the cat off with them and they would take some blood and urine samples from Gollum throughout the course of the day. 

James didn’t feel particularly good about dropping his sick cat off and leaving him alone, but the alternative was waiting a few days for an open appointment. He thanked the vet tech and said he would be by with his cat within the hour.

With a sigh, James pulled on some clothes, poured coffee into a travel thermos, and managed to get Gollum into his carrier with minimal fuss. Gollum loathed being in a car carrier, and often yowled and growled for the entire duration until he was set free again; the fact that he remained utterly silent and unmoving was testament to the fact he felt poorly.

The drive to the vet’s clinic was unremarkable, as was the transfer of his cat into their care. He confirmed his contact information, and thanked them for being able to take Gollum so quickly.

Since he was already out and about, James stopped by a nearby Walmart for his monthly supply run. He hadn’t thought to bring a list along on what he had assumed would be a quick stop at the vet’s, so he tried his best to remember everything he needed.

He was about to head to the front registers when a display of vibrant colors caught his eye. Paint swatches.

Hmm. Been meaning to repaint my bedroom.

Pulling his shopping cart to the side, James grabbed a booklet and began leafing through for some palette ideas. Currently, his walls were boring off-white, which hadn’t really bothered him before. He always assumed he would eventually get around to repainting, but after nearly two years of living there, everything was the same as when he’d moved in.

No time like the present.

He spent the next half hour poring over paint colors and mentally mapping the colors onto his bedroom walls. He frequently found himself wondering whether Rose would like a certain color, before he shut down that train of thought; it always came back, though. For the past several months, Rose was never more than half a thought away. Despite their current situation, that was a hard habit to break.

In the end, he decided on an eggshell-finish steel blue color that could have passed for gray. A nice, cool, neutral shade (and, despite his best efforts, he was sure Rose would like it too). He added a soft white for his ceiling and a sharp white glossy paint to his order to touch up the trim and crown molding. With his new paint cans in tow, he moved to the next aisle for paint rollers and brushes, protective cloth canvas, tape, a paint tray, and any other painting accoutrements he could find.

On his way home, he stopped by a fast-food drive-thru for a burger and an order of fries. His cholesterol was probably not pleased with him, considering he’d eaten a cheesesteak and fries for dinner the night before, but he ultimately decided to hell with his cholesterol. 

It was noontime when he finished his lunch, and he hopped right in with his painting project. It took him an hour to move all of his furniture to the middle of the room, and to unhang the various decorations on his walls. Not sure how long the painting would take, James shifted his entire dresser into his spare bedroom, where he figured he would sleep for the next night or two until the project was finished.

The soothing, repetitive movements of painting were cathartic, which is more than James could have hoped for. It took a fair amount of concentration, especially to make sure he didn’t drip paint where it didn’t belong. He enjoyed cutting in the corners and edges of his walls using one of the small brushes he’d bought, but he didn’t like using the broad paint roller to cover large areas. That was an easy and mindless task, which meant his brain could go back to Rose. And that was definitely not where he wanted his brain to go.

How much longer would his memory replay their fight for him? How long would it take before he stopped thinking about everything he could have and should have said differently? And how long was this break of theirs going to last?

Several times, he had been tempted to take photographs of his bedroom and send them to Rose. A tiny little olive branch, maybe. But no, that was stupid. That would look like he didn’t care about or didn’t want to address their fight.

He still took photos, though, wanting a before and after comparison for his own memories.

He was about to move on to the last wall of his bedroom when the vet called with an update on Gollum. When his phone had rung, his heart had jumped into his throat; he hadn’t been sure whether he was hoping or dreading to see Rose’s name. The crushing disappointment he felt gave him his answer. It took everything he had to not dismiss the call and instead phone Rose, desperate to speak with her and start mending whatever broke between them.

However, he had a duty to his cat, and so he accepted the vet’s call. Gollum, it turned out, had a rather severe urinary tract infection. The vet wanted to keep him overnight to start him on an aggressive antibacterial regimen, and to give him intravenous fluids because the cat was dangerously dehydrated.

The guilt nearly overwhelmed James. He hadn’t realized Gollum hadn’t been drinking or acting any differently; if the cat hadn’t wee’d on the beds, James wouldn’t have known anything was wrong. The vet tech, seeming to sense his distress, assured him that UTIs could frequently get overlooked, but that Gollum should make a full recovery.

“We anticipate you’ll be able to pick him up in a day or two.”

“Great, thanks,” James breathed. “Really. Thanks so much.”

The call reminded him it was time to feed his other cats. He had shut them away into the basement to keep them from wandering into his bedroom while he painted. As he walked down the hall, he could hear Pippin crying and scratching at the door.

“Sorry, sorry,” he called through the door. “One minute, boys. One minute, then I’ll bring down your dindin.”

He grabbed the two empty food dishes in the kitchen, filled them with kibble, grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, and opened the basement door. Pippin bolted upstairs and sprinted directly to where his bowl usually sat. He froze when he saw it wasn’t there, and James couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Right here, bud,” James said, shaking the bowl. “C’mon. You’re dining in the basement tonight, and tomorrow. Until I’ve finished painting. I absolutely do not trust you to not brush up against the wet walls, and I don’t fancy washing paint off of you.”

James continued talking to his cats as he carefully walked down the steps, wary of Pippin and Merry who both were winding around his ankles. Wouldn’t that just be the perfect ending to the past twenty-four hours? His relationship with Rose had crashed and burned, then he went and broke his neck falling down the stairs.

Once the cats were happily eating their dinner, James returned to his bedroom and worked on finishing what he could. He worked diligently until nightfall, pleased with his progress and with how well the color looked. However, he was growing to realize that the warm brown wood of his dresser, nightstand, and bookcases didn’t match with the cooler tones of the room.

Well, he’d been planning to upgrade his furniture anyway from the inexpensive mishmash of pieces he’d found at second-hand shops. Figuring he was done for the night, James set up a rotating fan to help with air circulation then went into his bathroom for a shower. Paint flecks spattered his face, hair, and arms; it took quite a bit of vigorous scrubbing before he was satisfied he’d washed it all off.

Once he was clean, dried, and dressed in pajamas, he exited his bedroom and closed the door behind himself so that he could release his cats from their basement prison. Not particularly hungry but figuring he ought to eat, he cut up an apple and scooped a dollop of peanut butter onto a plate, then took it and his laptop to his couch. Aching and exhausted, James simply sat on his sofa with his head tilted back and his eyes shut.

He nearly dozed off until Pippin clumsily jumped into his lap, nearly upending James’s snack. 

“Shoo,” James grumbled, moving his cat to the sofa cushion beside him.

Pippin huffed, then walked in a circle half a dozen times before plopping right next to James’s thigh. Absently stroking his cat, James munched on his pitiful dinner and opened up his laptop to IKEA’s website.

He spent the next hour browsing new bedroom furniture. With the light, cool-toned walls, he thought dark furniture would pop rather nicely. He fell utterly in love with a curved, corner-unit bookcase, and with a long chest of drawers that could fit enough clothes for two people. He favorited both of those pieces of furniture as he wondered what to do with his current furniture. Some of it could be repurposed to other rooms in his house, but others, like his bed frame—if he decided to upgrade that as well—would have to be sold or donated.

The ring of his doorbell interrupted his mental reconfiguration of his home. He leapt to his feet and jogged to his front door, cautiously peering into the peephole to see who was visiting him so late at night. A tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man had his face pressed close to the door, as though he could look through the opposite end of the peephole.

James threw open the door. “Jack? What the hell are you doing here?”

The other man scanned his eyes up and down James’s body, taking in the pajamas and his damp, messy hair. A salacious grin crossed Jack’s face.

“Oops, I didn’t interrupt anything important, did I?”

It took James a few seconds to realize what Jack meant. Then he wondered why Jack would think he and Rose had been in the middle of having sex. Eventually he remembered that nobody else was aware that he and Rose were in the middle of an argument. Which made him remember that he and Rose were in the middle of an argument. His mood soured, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“What do you want, Jack?”

Jack simply stared at him for a beat before saying, “It’s Thursday.”

James’s stomach sank. Thursday… pub quiz night… shit.

“We didn’t see you at Molly’s, and none of us had heard from you. I thought maybe you were busy with Rose, caught up in all sorts of delicious debauchery that I would love to hear about. But you don’t exactly seem to be in a state of post-coital bliss, so…”

“What do you want, Jack?” James repeated, gritting his teeth. His sleepless night had finally caught up with him, and he was suddenly exhausted. His body felt leaden and his head began to ache. The last thing he wanted to do was stand in his doorway and have this conversation with his friend/ex-boyfriend.

Jack scrutinized him so intently that James had to fight the urge to slam the door in Jack’s face.

“What’s up with you?” 

“None of your bloody business,” James snapped. “Look, it’s late. Sorry I missed trivia night. I’ll be there next week. But if you wouldn’t mind…”

In a move James was not anticipating, Jack stepped forward and into James, startling him into backing up a step. Before he knew it, they were inside his house, and Jack had shut the door behind him.

“What the hell Jack?” James exploded. “I’m not in the bloody mood for this. Get out.”

“Spill. What’s happened?” Jack asked. Before James could shout at him again, he turned his head down the hall, sniffing. “Are you getting your house repainted?”

“Jack!” James followed uselessly as Jack strode down the hall to his closed bedroom door.

The other man threw open the door and flicked on the lights, revealing the messy, freshly-painted bedroom.

“Yes, I’m repainting my bedroom. Congratulations on your deductive reasoning skills. Will you please leave now?”

“Is there a reason you’ve started repainting your room on a random Thursday? That sounds like more of a weekend project.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was out shopping and saw paint swatches and had the urge to repaint my bedroom. So here we are.”

“Why were you out shopping and looking at paint swatches in the middle of a school day? Play hooky, did you? You know, whenever I blow off classes for the day, it’s usually because I’m having sex. Was Rose too busy? Or have you worn her out already?”

James’s cheeks burned, even as his chest crumpled in on itself. He had done his best to not think about Rose all afternoon, yet here was Jack, bringing her up every other sentence.

“Well, at least I can finally say I got you in the bedroom,” Jack said lightly, digging his elbow into James’s ribs.

James managed a weak, half-hearted snort. “Not quite how you expected it though, is it?”

“Admittedly, we were both a lot more naked,” Jack lamented. “I’ll let you save the nakedness for Rose. Speaking of, what does she think of your sudden home makeover?”

James’s stomach hollowed out, and he surprised himself by confessing, “Dunno. Haven’t told her.”

Jack went silent for the first time all night. James could feel his friend’s eyes on him, but he steadfastly inspected his walls, looking for any imperfections he would have to pay close attention to when he applied the second coat.

“James, what happened?”

Jack’s voice was so soft and so knowing that the backs of James’s eyes prickled. Damn. He thought he was done crying. James sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I think… I think Rose and I might be breaking up soon,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Jack simply blinked at him, his face expressionless. “Right. We’re gonna get some alcohol, then you are going to explain everything to me. Why do you think you and Rose are breaking up? You two are the epitome of soulmates, if such a thing exists.”

James snorted, remembering every hurtful thing he and Rose had said last night. “Not anymore, we’re not.”

Jack clapped him lightly on the back, before he encircled his arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Let’s go sit down.”

Keeping his arm where it was, Jack guided James to the kitchen and plopped him into the chair that Rose usually sat in. James didn’t bother moving, and instead watched his friend go to the fridge and pull out a partially-drunk bottle of wine. He and Rose had opened that bottle last weekend. They’d snuggled on the sofa together and made a drinking game out of watching a cooking show together. Half way through the bottle, they’d gotten pleasantly tipsy and had stopped paying attention to the television in favor of making out.

Jack found the cabinet that contained the wine glasses and pulled down two of them. He sat at the table opposite of James, filled the glasses, and pushed one towards him. James gulped down half of it in one go.

“Okay. Tell me everything,” Jack said, topping off James’s wine glass.

The words poured out of him, from every heartbreaking thing Rose had told him, to everything he had said in return. Jack’s face remained impassive as James spoke, never once interrupting, even though James wasn’t sure he managed to capture all of the details as clearly as he would have preferred.

“I’ve ruined everything,” James concluded, polishing off the liquid in his glass before refilling it.

“No, you haven’t,” Jack said gently. “You buggered it up a little bit. But so did Rose. You brought up some valid points, James. You deserve to be in a relationship with someone who is honest and forthcoming. It isn’t a good balance for one person to constantly be sharing while the other remains a closed book. However, it’s not healthy to expect the same level of reciprocity from Rose as what you bring to the table. Especially when you haven’t been upfront with Rose about your expectations. And where you did bugger things up was with shooting yourself down so hard. Especially as a way to excuse what you’ve said, or assumptions you’ve made.”

“But… I genuinely feel like I’m at a complete and utter loss all the time,” James defended, ringing his fingertip around his wine glass. “It’s like… it’s like people innately know how to do this, this romance thing, and I’m bumbling along like an idiot.”

“Were you insecure in your friendship with Rose? Before you began dating? Did you feel any of this last semester?”

James paused, considering. He’d always had some butterflies when he spent time with Rose last semester, but for the most part, he’d simply enjoyed being in her presence. That hadn’t changed at all, despite their new relationship status. She had remained his best friend, the person he always wanted to be around, and the person he wanted to share every piece of his life with.

“No,” he whispered, pressing his fingertips into his eyes.

“Soooo… what’s the difference between being Rose’s friend versus being her boyfriend? I mean, I assume by now that you’re having sex? Apart from that, it’s not like anything really changed. Is the sex bad or something? Do you not like it?”

James felt his cheeks heating as his stomach twisted. Being intimate with Rose was one of the most special things he’d ever shared with someone. Not only did it feel brilliant, better than he ever thought physical pleasure could be, but it was equally as emotionally satisfying. Being vulnerable with Rose hadn’t been terrifying or overwhelming, but rather comforting. There had been nobody he trusted more than Rose.

“No,” he croaked. “No, it’s been… it’s been incredible. Everything with her has been incredible.”

“Has Rose given any indication that she has been dissatisfied with you in any way? Not even with the sex, but just…” Jack waved his hands around in the air. “…in general?”

You’re everything I never thought I deserved to have.

Hot tears burned in his eyes then dripped down his cheeks. Every kiss she’d given him, every squeeze of her hand in his, every sleepy smile that spread across her face when she woke up and saw him… It all raced through his head, a testament to their love.

What have I done?

He pressed his palms into his eyes

“No,” he answered, his voice raw.

Jack sighed. “Oh, James.”

“I know!” He plonked his forehead down onto the table and curled his arms around his head, tugging on his hair until it hurt. “I fucked up, Jack.”

James heard the scraping of chair legs on the floor, then a warm body was pressed tightly into his own. Jack wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders, leaning into him in a sideways hug.

“Much like having sex,” Jack began, “having an argument takes more than one person. Most times, anyway. If either situation is being done by only one person, chances are they’re a wanker.”

James let out a weak laugh, even as his eyes and throat burned with more tears.

“Rose said some very hurtful things,” Jack said, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down James’s arm. “She needs to apologize and address those. But you accused her of some pretty terrible things, too. From what you’ve said, Rose’s relationship with this Jimmy guy was toxic, if not abusive. It’s insulting for you to suggest she would want to go back into a relationship like that.”

James’s stomach ached. He had known for months that Rose’s relationship with Jimmy had been unhealthy, and that her heart had been badly broken. That should have been enough for him. Did he really need to know every single detail of her heartbreak?

No, he decided. No, he didn’t. However, he would have liked to have known that Jimmy had reached out to her. At the very least, James wanted to know why Rose hadn’t wanted to tell him Jimmy had contacted her.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted.

“At least you know you want to fix it,” Jack said, giving James a squeeze. “That’s a good start. It means you’ve determined that what you have with Rose is worth fighting for. But you need to take a long, hard look at what you want from this relationship, and more importantly, what you want from Rose. And you need to be receptive to what she wants from you and your relationship. And you need to work on your own insecurities and stop projecting them onto Rose. That’s a shitty thing to do, James. You have the insecurities, so it’s your job to work through them. Stop making excuses for yourself, and stop projecting them onto Rose.”

“Not sugar coating this at all, are you?” James muttered, though he knew Jack’s advice was sound.

“Nope. I’ve let you mope for a half hour, but now you need to start making things right. And remember. You can only change yourself—you can’t change Rose. So decide what you’re willing to put up with, because she might never be as open as you want her to be. But also set some boundaries for yourself. A relationship is give and take, and lots of compromise. You can’t keep giving and giving and giving, or else you’re not going to have anything left.”

James cocked his head to the side and peeked up at Jack. “Do you have a degree in relationship counseling that I don’t know about?”

Jack laughed, and took his arm away from James’s shoulders to instead ruffle his hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“But how do I start a conversation with Rose to tell her I want to fix things?” James asked.

Jack pursed his lips and tapped his finger to his chin in mock thought. “Have you considered anything like “Hi Rose, I really want to make up and then make out”?”

James snorted. “I’ll think of something else. Oh, and I might have some furniture coming tomorrow or Saturday. Wanna help me move stuff?”

Jack winked. “You know, I think I’m busy. Why don’t you see if Rose is free?”

“Subtle,” James drawled. He then sighed. “Thanks for stopping by, Jack.”

“See, aren’t you glad I wasn’t put off by your less-than-warm welcome? If you want to practice your apology skills, I’ll take one.”

“Okay, I think it’s time we said goodbye,” James said, dragging his weary body up from the chair. He collected their empty wine glasses and set them in the sink.

“A piece of advice, don’t try that one with Rose. Maybe try a kiss or two. I’ll take one of those, if you’re offering.”

James rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his friend out of the kitchen. They’d only made it a few steps when the doorbell rang.

“Bit late for a social call, isn’t it?” Jack asked, frowning at James.

James gestured up and down the length of Jack’s body. “You can talk, showing up here at nine o’clock.”

“Touché. Late-night furniture delivery?”

“I haven’t ordered anything yet. Besides, no one would deliver this late.”

Shrugging, James stepped ahead of his friend to yank open the front door. His breath left him in a sharp, little whoosh when he beheld the person standing in the yellow glow of the porch light, cradling a small, plastic container to her stomach.

“Rose.”

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #angst #romance #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

[startrekreviews]

TNG Novels #47-9: The Q Continuum

TNG #47-9: The Q Continuum trilogy by Greg Cox Book Jacket’s Summary:      “The unpredictable cosmic entity known only as Q has plagued Captain Jean-Luc Picard and the crew of the Starship Enterprise since their very first voyage together. But little is known of Q's mysterious past or that of the unearthly realm from which he hails. Now Picard must learn Q's secrets – or all of reality may perish!      Ever since its discovery, the great galactic barrier has impeded humanity's exploration of the universe beyond the Milky Way. Now a brilliant Federation scientist may have found a way to breach the barrier, and the Enterprise is going to put it to the test. The last thing the crew needs is a visit from an omnipotent troublemaker so, naturally, Q appears.      Q has more in mind than his usual pranks, and while the Enterprise struggles to defeat a powerful inhuman foe, Picard must embark on a fantastic odyssey into the Q Continuum itself, with the fate of the galaxy hanging in the balance.” Yeaka’s Notes:     I read this trilogy individually, but as you couldn’t really read them without each other, I’m reviewing them all in one. And frankly, I think they could’ve all been condensed into one book anyway.     Long story short, all three of these carry the continuing, singular plot of the Enterprise (mid-DS9/VOY era) carrying a Betazoid scientist to the barrier that surrounds the edge of the galaxy, where he intends to open up a wormhole to the other side. When they arrive, Q, as well as Q’s wife and baby from Voyager, tell them not to. Picard asks why. Q won’t tell him why. If Q had, this series would’ve been about 600 pages shorter. Instead, Q takes Picard away to show him the long, drawn out story of how teenage-Q royally messed up (including a depressing, detailed tale of mass slaughter) and breaching the barrier will only make it worse. Meanwhile, the visiting scientist is a gratingly terrible father, Beverly, Deanna, Geordi, and Data pick up loose ends, a few other OCs and minor characters try to survive, and Riker tries to keep the Calamarain (TNG: “Deja Q”) from killing them all.     This is a well-written adventure. Some of the OCs are enjoyable, while others are appropriately awful. Q is as sometimes-likeable, sometimes-irritating as ever, and all the worse for having three consecutive books worth. If you’re a Q/Picard fan, this is a must have. There’s a ridiculous amount of references touching on everything from Kirk to Janeway, books, shows, and movies alike, including the history of the godlike being Kirk faced down in The Final Frontier. During those and several thrilling moments, this is a great ride—while during other moments, particularly those with Q needlessly adding a couple hundred pages, it’s almost unbearable.     So... pretty much Q. Noteworthy moments: (below cut)

Q-Space: Ch1/p3 Picard and Troi are relieved Lwaxana isn’t on Betazed to gree them 

p5 Troi recalls crashing the Enterprise D on Veridian III (TNG: Generations); Troi can sense Data’s emotions during a meeting

p8 Troi thinks: “Worf married a Trill, she remembered with only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Then she took her own advice and put that reaction behind her. I wish him only the best, she thought.”

p21 Barclay messes up and a scientist goes off on him

Ch3/p39 Picard notes Sisko punched Q in the face and Q didn’t return to bother him, thus maybe Picard should try it; Picard wonders if Sisko would trade the Jem’Hadar for Q

Ch5/p57 Data puzzles to Geordi over Spot only eating from round plates now

Ch5/p54 Q’s lover and baby show up

Ch7/p92 Beverly tells the female Q about the Traveler choosing Wesley, Deanna mentions Ian, the Q’s impressed

p108 Female Q comes to Beverly about the weight of motherhood

Ch11/p160 Picard sees Q as a teenager, Q hints that Riker was born because of a Q

Ch12/p189 Riker mentally helps Deanna through a crisis

Ch14/p212 Picard witnesses a Q date

p228 Q and Picard visit the Guardian of Forever

Ch20/p266 Organians aren’t allowed in the Q Continuum

p269 Someone else suggests testing lesser species to young Q

Q-Zone: Ch5/p116 EMH

Q-Strike: Ch4/p42 Quinn (VOY: “Death Wish”)

p45 Ruk (TOS: “What Are Little Girls Made Of”)

p47 Sargon, Thalassa, and Henoch (TOS: “Return to Tomorrow”)

p52 Bajor watching a phenomenon

p54 Organians

p70 Q killed the dinosaurs (Picard does not accept it)

Ch5/p77 The “god” from the center of the universe in The Final Frontier

p79 The creation of the galactic barrier

Ch5/p83 Q is officially assigned to oversee Earth

Ch11/p164 Q to Picard: “You’re the one who specialize in triumphing against over-whelming odds. Have Data whip up some technobabble. Tell Counselor Troi to get in touch with her feelings. Let Riker punch someone.”

#tng #novels #yeakas #jean-luc picard #q #q2 #female q #william riker #deanna troi #beverly crusher #geordi la forge #data #reginald barclay #sonya gomez #daniel stutter #emergency medical hologram #guardian of forever #calamarain #betazoids #qs #quinn #new aliens

[girlwiththegreenhat]

hey also

i think i finally know where those inky footprints in ch1 came from, because the searcher-folk have feet

human feet, not weird three-toed toon feet

and sure sammy has feet now, but he’s got boots. not to mention, it feels (to me, at least) implied that he’s been living in the music department for a while. we just turned on the ink machine, and these footprints are fresh, so I don’t think they could be his. and the searcher-folk seem... docile. they don’t want to hurt henry, and I remember the balcony dude saying “how does he keep finding me” or something similar. There was a ‘He’ mentioned, and “Bendy” is a ‘he’... implying maybe the searcher-folk, much like everyone else down here, are afraid of the ink demon? That one of them put those boards up?

i dunno exactly but i wanna confidently say it was one of these guys that put those boards up

#liz blogs #batim #bendy and the ink machine #batim spoilers #yes im calling them searcher folk for now i dunno what else to call them #they're not searchers #i feel like calling both dumb blob searchers and semi-nice people searchers the same thing would get confusing #so thats what im sticking to for now

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Silver and Amethyst ch1

I wrote this a while back, as my background for the Ri-parents in Dwelf-’verse.

@life-is-righteous

Chapter 1

Arnóra tossed her mithril locks over her shoulder with a slight huff of annoyance. The braids her Adad had plaited this morning were beautiful, but she wished he had put them differently, binding her hair closer to her skull so she wouldn’t have to keep pushing small curls out of her face. Adad loved her hair long and flowing, however, always telling her how much she looked like her Amad that way, which was why Arnóra didn’t complain, even when the loose hair annoyed her at work. Amad had been the most beautiful Dwarf in Erebor, Adad said, and though she had died giving birth to Arnóra’s baby brother, he still missed her every day.

The young wire-weaver apprentice knew she was beautiful, her shiny mithril locks her most prominent feature, but the lovely hair was paired with a well-shaped face and a body that could turn heads. She was too young to care much about finding love, only just turned sixty-three and still just a journeyman, but she knew that her looks would eventually have suitors vying for her hand. It amused her slightly when she caught Master Járngrímr staring; she hadn’t much interest in the other metal-crafters who sighed after her, and Járngímr was old – almost 220, she thought, and so fat it was rumoured he had crushed his wife in bed thirty years ago. The Master Engineer was unspeakably dull, but he paid her own Master well for the copper and bronze wires they made for his work, so Master Rudi tended to allow him in the workshop.

Turning her attention back to the thin gold wire she was pulling, Arnóra put all thoughts of Járngrímr’s gaze from her mind. If she did well, perhaps Master Rudi would let her spend a few minutes each day making a pendant for Norin’s Nameday? She had already decided on a design, and maybe her friend Hornbori would carve lucky runes into the pretty aventurine cabochon she had chosen for the center? Thoughts full of plans and reminders to herself, Arnóra completed her tasks with a smile on her face.

 Later, as she was thrown against a wall, bleeding from a split lip and trying to keep Járngrímr from pulling up her skirts, she regretted ignoring the way he had stared at her. If she had asked Eyfura to walk home with her, or been more aware of her surroundings, perhaps she wouldn’t be here, fighting for her virtue if not her life. He had broken one of her wrists already, and the bloody nose she had repaid him with had not slowed him down in the least. She couldn’t hear herself screaming, nor did she catch more than the distant sound of a roar, but suddenly Járngrímr was gone, and some Dwarf she did not know was standing before her. His face, pointy in profile, was contorted in a fearsome snarl, and when she managed to move her eyes past the fine-boned hands that were agilely blocking Járngrímr’s more clumsy blows, she realised that one of the dwarf’s knives was embedded in the engineer’s shoulder. With a move she could not follow, the stranger had a knife at Járngrímr’s throat, poised to slit it.

“Don’t!” Arnóra didn’t know who called out to stop the murderous stranger, but when he looked at her questioningly, she realised it had been her.

“Don’t what?” the knife-wielding dwarf asked, in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Arnóra gaped. The whole thing had happened so fast; it was slightly unreal. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming in quick pants as her mind whirled. Staring at the tableau in front of her, she felt like she was in a bad dream, but the deadly calm of the dark-clad stranger told her otherwise. He did not prompt her again for a reason; apparently content simply to look at her while calmly threatening a fat dwarf’s life until she gathered her thoughts.

“Don’t kill him.” Arnóra said, surprising herself. Járngrímr opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better of it when the stranger’s blade nicked the soft skin beneath his bushy beard. A drop of blood painted a vivid crimson streak against his walnut skin. The stranger did not reply. “Please.” Arnóra continued. She didn’t know why it mattered, but she somehow didn’t want the strange Dwarf to have Járngrímr’s blood on his hands.

“I can’t just let him go, either,” the stranger with the red-brown hair replied, with the same level voice he might have used if they were discussing the merits of ale over beer rather than someone’s life. Arnóra shook her head. A distant thought told her that she should be concerned to be in the company of someone who held so little respect for life, but something about the stranger’s grey eyes made her feel safe in his presence. “You clearly didn’t want his attentions, and you look a bit young for such games anyhow. This dwarf is a criminal, Miss, and I really don’t like rapists…” his voice continued evenly, though his eyes darkened when he mentioned what might have so easily happened – if he had not been nearby, surely the fat dwarf would eventually have succeeded.

“Take him to the Guard. I want the whole Mountain to know what he tried to do.” Suddenly furious, Arnóra spat at Járngrímr’s feet. “I want the King to see the scum that walk these Halls. The Way is clear-” Arnóra wondered if her unknown saviour knew she was the eldest daughter of Lawmaker Rúnvidr, but it didn’t really matter; all Dwarrow were taught these laws. “-let him be judged by the Maker and the King. He does not deserve the mercy of a quick death.”

“Vengeance and Beauty,” the stranger mused, mirth glittering in his deep grey eyes. “So be it, my Lady. For you, I shan’t kill this piece of Orc-bait. You will have to go to the Guard with me, however: They’ll want your testimony.” Arnóra nodded.

 Much later, when one of the Guards’ runners had fetched her Adad, followed by her teary sister Norin carrying little Lokki, and Rúnvidr had assured himself of his daughter’s well-being, Arnóra finally realised that she never even asked for the name of her saviour. Looking around for him, however, proved fruitless: the stranger with the grey eyes had disappeared as though he had never been there at all. When she asked the Guard on duty, he told her that he had no idea who the dwarf was, but that he’d left a sworn statement of the event in question marked with a mysterious ‘N’-rune.

 Natfári, who had been on his way home when he spotted the altercation down one of the narrow shortcuts that on the surface would be called alleyways, had not wished to give his true name when he brought in the scum Járngrímr. Not that he wasn’t proud to have caught the would-be rapist, but Natfári the Guard was supposed to be protecting a trade caravan heading to the Iron Hills, not prowling the narrow streets of Erebor as the sneak-thief and grifter Radulf. He was especially not supposed to be carrying the Black Feather, though showing the small agate token to the Captain on duty had conveniently made all questions disappear quietly. He had purposefully taken the shaken young dam – she had struck him as particularly observant, even if she forgot to ask his name – to a Guardhouse he was not posted at in his official job, and trusted that the Captain would know what the small feather represented. Personally, he would have preferred to cut off a few important – to Master Járngrímr, at least – braids and or appendages, but he appreciated the young lady’s courage. Few so young would have dared accuse a Master of Járngrímr’s status of any wrong-doing, much less attempted rape, even with a witness. He sensed more mithril in her spine than her hair, which surprised him at first: beautiful ladies did not usually have as much spirit as Arnóra showed during the attack. In his experience, daughters of noblemen – Lawmakers might rank relatively low in Court hierarchy, but Rúnvidr was still the youngest son of a noble house – were not used to the kind of fighting necessary to fend off such an assault. The broken nose she had delivered had been a thing of beauty, and if Járngrímr hadn’t gotten both her arms behind her back and his hand around her throat, Natfári would have enjoyed watching her pummel him some more. Rubbing his thigh with a wince, he walked back towards the small alleyway. Járngrímr - too slow and too fat to be much of a threat to him – had not managed to land a blow, but Arnóra’s hard iron-toed boot had left its mark when she tried to kick the Master Engineer just as he pushed him away from his would-be victim. Picking up the small knife she had dropped – he had left his own blade in Járngrímr’s shoulder – Natfári shook his head, a slightly incredulous smile on his face. Had she really been armed with only an eating knife? Resolving to give Arnóra a proper blade at the first opportunity that presented itself and heavily suggest that she learn to use it, Natfári pocketed the small knife, not even questioning whether it was his place to see to her protection.

 When she finally fell asleep, Arnóra did not dream of Járngrímr’s sweaty face. Instead, her sleep was filled with the gentle mocking laughter of a black-clad stranger with grey eyes and a strangely familiar scent of roses. Amad had dabbed rose oil behind her ears when she was going out with Adad, she remembered, but felt confused by the dream nonetheless. She didn’t think the mysterious ‘N’ had been using the same trick, though she hadn’t noticed what he smelled like at the time.

 In the morning, when she opened her eyes, a small parcel had been left on her windowsill. Looking down at the three-meter long drop from her window to the street, she wondered how anyone had gotten the parcel into her room. There were no other windows in the wall than hers, and the nearest neighbour was too far to climb easily. Opening the fabric wrapping, she was surprised to find a small dagger inside. At the base of the blade, a small feather had been etched. The dagger was perfectly balanced, made from superior quality steel, with a large amethyst set in the pommel. Tied to the leather-wrapped handle was a scrap of paper with a scrawled ‘N’. Thinking that there might have been a letter from her mysterious saviour, she pawed at the fabric, but found no note accompanying the gift. The fabric turned out to be a large shawl, embroidered with silver thread, like the kind Master Rudi sold, around the edge in a pattern of square knots. It smelled faintly of roses. When Adad came in to see why she wasn’t appearing for breakfast, he found her still seated on her bed, with the shawl lightly wrapped around her shoulders as she stared at the beautiful blade in her hands.

“What’s that, Zunshfall mim?” Rúnvidr asked quietly.

“I think it is a gift… from the dwarf who saved me.” Arnóra replied, slightly confused. “Though I do not understand how he knew that you call me Little Feather…” she trailed off, showing off the mark etched into the blade.

“I guess it is simply a decorative symbol, Arnóra,” Rúnvidr said calmly, though his heart jumped when he saw the design clearly. He knew whose position the feather symbol belonged to. “It is a fine blade. You will have to think of a proper gift of gratitude in return.” He would, of course, use different channels to convey his own personal gratitude – and not think about why the Spymaster of Erebor would be wandering around delivering gifts to young dwarrowdams… unless… had the mysterious ‘N’, about whom the guard had been so clueless, actually been the Spymaster himself? He would need to make certain enquiries. If ‘N’ and the Black Owl were one and the same, precautions would have to be taken when the matter was put before the King.

“I cannot, Adad.” Arnóra replied, unable to keep a note of sadness from creeping into her voice at the idea. If she could not thank the giver, it felt wrong to keep the blade, though she already felt quite possessive of it. “I do not know his name, nor where he could be found.”

“Well… think about it, Zunshfall. If he could manage to deliver a gift to your window, I’m sure he could manage to retrieve one too.” Rúnvidr wasn’t entirely comfortable with that knowledge considering what might have just happened with Járngrímr, but if the mysterious ‘N’ truly was the Black Owl, there could be no harm in trying to thank him for his timely assistance… and if he wasn’t, there’d be no harm done for making the attempt. In either case, the smile on his beloved daughter’s face made him happy.

“I will, Adad!” Arnóra laughed, hugging the knife to her chest.

“Good girl. Now, time for breakfast. I’ve asked Journeyman Hargan next door to walk you to Master Rudi’s and back home at the end of the day.” Even if Arnóra saw it as curbing her freedom, he would rather she be annoyed with him than ever have to face that same dread he had yesterday when he was informed by a Guard runner as to the reason for her being late for dinner.

Arnóra nodded her compliance easily. She didn’t mind Hargan’s company, really; he’d been a playmate of sorts when they were younger, and was a nice enough dwarf. He was also the bulkiest muscle-bound dwarf she knew, which was probably why Adad had asked him. Hargan worked for Master Tindri, a few streets from Master Rudi’s workshop, so she’d need to leave a little earlier than usual to keep him from being late to his own work. “Yes, Adad.” Arnóra pecked his cheek quickly before leaving the room, her mind already spinning with ideas for a proper thank-you for her mysterious saviour.

  Elsewhere in Erebor, Natfári crept along the shadows that would keep passers-by from noticing him when he entered the Royal Palace. He would have to explain to King Thrór why his mark had been stamped – inking the Black Feather was so messy, but the mark was almost impossible to forge – on the Guard’s report, as well as the documents that would be delivered to the Court Scribes in preparation for a Trial in front of the King. If they had been Men, the crime might have been handled by a magistrate or a Lawman of the First Degree, but among their kin, females were so rare that any violation of one was considered a crime against the Maker himself. Natfári sometimes wondered how women – that was what Men called their dams, he knew – felt safe walking alone in dark streets when an attacker like Járngrímr could be let off with paying a small fine. With the Spymaster himself as a witness, there was no way Járngrímr would be able to buy the Guards’ silence, even if he had not been placed under the careful watch of Captain Mundi, who was utterly devoted to the protection of dwarrowdams in general and so honourable that even Natfári’s extensive network of spies and informants had had to agree that he was an entirely upstanding citizen. In truth, the good Captain had been one of Natfári’s personal favourites among the Guard even before he accepted the small token of his unofficial office. When the news of the arrest broke – and it would be all over the Mountain by midmorning, or Natfári would be sorely disappointed with his underlings – there was bound to be an uproar. That was another reason he had chosen Mundi’s garrison as the place to deliver Járngrímr – Mundi would not be tempted to give in to a vigilante mob, nor did he hold truck with excessive ‘justice’ administered in the criminal’s cell like some guards Natfári knew.

 “Lord Nár,” he said quietly, enjoying the way the nobledwarf always jumped when he suddenly appeared from the shadows. “I trust the day finds you well.”

“And you, Abhârzunsh,” Nár replied with an even nod. “I take it you’re here about the report that landed on my desk this morning?”

“About the Nergakart[1] I intervened in, yes,” Natfári replied with what he meant as a pleasant smile, though it came out looking more than a little sinister judging by the way Nár seemed to shrink a little. The King’s advisor rallied quickly, however.

“Yes, a most disconcerting notion – to think I had him round for supper last month!” Nár babbled, looking ill at the thought that he could have shared ale and meat with someone of such despicable nature. “Anyway, King Thrór will see you in his study.”

With a bow, Natfári was gone, leaving Nár to the mess of papers that covered his desk and making his way to the King’s study. When he entered, however, he was slightly surprised to find Prince Thráin standing by the fire, while the King sat behind his desk. The Prince did not generally concern himself with everyday ruling – King Thrór had squashed any such desires ruthlessly, believing his son too weak to be a ruler and never realising that the scared boy who missed his Amad had grown into a thoughtful Dwarf with a good head on his shoulders, even if he was more soft-spoken than most guild masters.

“My King,” Natfári bowed politely, “and Prince Thráin,” he bowed again – only the Prince returned the gesture with a nod – “I hope the day finds you both well.”

“Explain yourself,” Thrór demanded. Natfári felt a little confused, surely the matter was crystal clear?

“Adad, the Abhârzunsh would not accuse someone baselessly, Lord Járngrímr clearly isn’t-” Thráin interjected, but Thrór’s harsh look silenced him abruptly.

“My King, I came across Master Járngrímr of House Reifr as he was attempting to force himself on a very unwilling dam in one of the smaller alleys of the Upper Commons. I intervened on the young lady’s behalf, having been alerted by her screams as I walked down the next street. Luckily I arrived in time to stop Master Járngrímr before irreparable damage was done to the young lady – whom I later learned had not even reached her coming of age – and delivered him to the safekeeping of Captain Mundi at the Moonstone Crescent Guardhouse.”

“Leave.” Thrór said, turning back to his papers. Thráin began moving towards the door, but Natfári stayed – when he needed to report like this, it was never done with in five minutes. “Both of you!” the King suddenly bellowed. Natfári jumped.

 “Adad is.. not well, today,” the Prince said quietly, when Natfári stumbled out of the study, utterly perplexed. “Járngrímr is an old friend of his, I’m afraid. Do not worry, Abhârzunsh. Adad will do his duty by this young lady Arnóra.”

“Are you sure? That did not… seem like the Thrór I have come to know.” Natfári replied cautiously. Such talk could be considered treasonous, but Thráin did not react beyond a sigh.

“I fear that my Adad is growing old, Abhârzunsh, and the thought makes him ill-tempered as you saw.” Prince Thráin stopped, gesturing down a split in the corridor. “Now, please excuse me, I have to go inform the other Masters of the Engineer’s Guild that our esteemed member has been accused of Nergakart and will be convicted shortly. No one is going to be happy with that news.”

“I should hope they would be pleased that a vicious attack was thwarted and a young lady’s peace preserved,” Natfári replied waspishly.

“And they will be – at first-“ Thráin replied with a slight laugh, “but then they will begin bickering about who will take over Járngrímr’s apprentices, who has the most rights to his workshop – his heir or his senior journeyman, probably – and who should finish whatever commissions are on his books, and the squabble will be endless. I had hoped to spend my evening with Lady Frís, but I fear I shall have to cancel our plans. This guild meeting is like to take most of the night,” he sighed, and Natfári felt some sympathy for his upcoming trouble. He also found it slightly peculiar how openly Thráin spoke to him, whenever they actually met, but he had not yet found a satisfying answer to that puzzle. Instead, he simply bade the Prince a polite farewell, and went back to Nár’s office to write a more comprehensive report for Thrór’s later perusal.

  The trial of attempted Nergakart was textbook. Though the perpetrator tried for leniency – claiming that nothing had actually happened – the Law was clear and Master Járngrímr found himself summarily shaved and exiled in short order. The only one remotely unhappy – even those who had liked him where ashamed now that they had not realised his darker nature sooner – to see him go was his newly assigned apprentice, who had to find a new Master willing to take one someone who was, if not tainted, then certainly a little shaded by having Járngrímr’s name on his papers.

  Arnóra’s life continued peacefully. After the first gift of the dagger that now never left her side, there had been no further communications from ‘N’. Her adad was quietly relieved; he did not like owing people, and though he knew that if ever the Black Owl asked something in return for his daughter’s peace, he would pay it gladly, he was glad that the Spymaster seemed to have taken no further interest in Arnóra, whose mild infatuation faded as the years passed.

  Natfári was happy that, on the few occasions he spotted Arnóra around Erebor, she was wearing the blade he had gifted to her. It had amused him to find an amethyst and silver pendant on her window sill the night after he had delivered the gift, but he had accepted the small token with a funny sort of gratitude. His sister had loved the intricate design, the thin silver wire shaped into spirals and waves around the central stone, interwoven in a delicate pattern. She – and her friends, once Nauma had showed off her new finery – had pestered him endlessly until he revealed the craftsdwarf and the result had been a steady source of work for Arnóra, who seemed to enjoy making the intricate pieces.

[1]  Contraction of nerkhar gadra makartûna – supreme violence against a lady (of good standing). There is no Khuzdul word for a lady – the ûna ending makes any noun into a x-lady ie harrûna -> affinity-lady – so I’ve used the word/radicals for ‘she who is trusted’ to imply that the lady in question is believable.

#parents of Ri's #Dwelf-'verse #pre-hobbit #life in erebor #Silver and Amethyst

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (19/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~7400 words, teen

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James couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked hard, thinking his exhaustion had caught up with him. No, the blonde woman on his porch had to be the night-shift nurse who lived across the street—she often liked to indulge in late-night baking on her nights off, and there were times she would come to James for an ingredient she was missing, or to give him a small sampling of her confectionery creations.

(He had the sudden, jarring, embarrassing realization that she may have been flirting with him the whole time… Is that why she hasn’t come around in months?)

“Rose,” he said again when blinking stupidly for at least ten seconds didn’t transform Rose into anyone else.

“Hi,” she said quietly. She looked exhausted; there were prominent shadows beneath her eyes and her shoulders drooped like a heavy weight sat upon them.

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder, and her face fell. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you had company. I’ll just…” She thumbed behind herself to the dark road. How did she get here? “Sorry.”

Before he could protest, Jack clapped James on the shoulder and announced, “No, no. I was getting ready to head out. Come on, get in out of the cold.”

Jack pressed a smacking kiss to James’s cheek, then muttered, “Talk to her,” into his ear. He then stepped forward and gave Rose a loose hug and kiss on the cheek before he walked to his vehicle that was parked on the side of the street.

They turned to watch Jack start his car and drive off into the night. James looked at Rose, then at the squarish plastic Tupperware container she held. She was absently flicking her thumb nail across the tab on the lid.

“What’ve you got there?” he asked, nodding to the container.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Well. We’ve been playing a game all month, haven’t we? Time to celebrate.”

She popped the lid off the container and handed it to him. In it were half a dozen large, muffin-sized chocolate cupcakes, frosted in vanilla icing and decorated with pink and yellow star sprinkles. The words “Happy Birthday” were written in small, neat, glossy red letters across each cupcake. His stomach sank.

“It… it’s your birthday?” he croaked. Of course—of fucking course—today had been her birthday.

Rose nodded. “I… I didn’t want to let my entire birthday pass without spending some time with my favorite person.”

James nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hope you had fun.”

Rose raised an incredulous eyebrow, and the penny dropped.

“Me?” he squeaked, the knot in his chest loosening.

“Yes you, you numpty. Just because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. Do you not love me anymore because we fought?”

James’s knees weakened at the ‘l’ word. He took a step towards her, the arm not holding the cupcakes extended. Her face softened and she stepped into his proffered embrace. Her body was warm and solid against him. Heat prickled behind his eyes as he wrapped his arms as tightly around her as he could without upending the Tupperware container.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry. I…”

“Can we not do this on the front porch?” she asked, voice muffled. “S’cold.”

James was loath to let go of her, but he had to agree the night was getting frigid, especially for him, with his bare feet and thin pajama bottoms and t-shirt. With a sigh, he gave her a final squeeze and dropped his arms from around her waist, then stepped back to usher her into his home.

She toed off her shoes by the front door, and he could already predict her questions when she angled her head towards the hallway. “Did you paint something?”

James scratched the back of his neck. “Er. Yeah. Started repainting my bedroom.”

A small, sad smile tugged at the side of Rose’s mouth. “Needed something to keep your mind busy?”

“Something like that,” he admitted.

A more genuine smile crossed her face as she gestured to the Tupperware container he was holding. “Y’know, stress baking would've been cheaper.”

James blinked, then gaped down at the cupcakes he was holding. The font of the words was perfect cursive, the spread of the icing uniform and even. He blurted, “You made these?”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” she drawled. “Yes, I made them. Well. Elsa helped. She came over to my flat this afternoon. Bit of a girl’s night. Had pizza and wine, then made cupcakes. She’s actually really good at decorating; she’s got this whole set of frosting tips to make fancy designs. She did the lettering.”

“They look lovely. Very professional,” he said. He jutted his head to his kitchen, motioning for her to follow. She did, her quiet, shuffling footsteps falling into rhythm with his.

Rather than go into the kitchen, Rose peeled off to the living room, where Merry and Pippin were lounging on the sofa together, half-asleep. James watched her squat down in front of the cats and give them a bit of love before she returned to him.

“Should Jack have driven himself home?”

James glanced at Rose and saw her pointing to the kitchen table, where the mostly-empty bottle of wine sat. It had a few mouthfuls left.

“It was only half-full when we started,” James answered, picking up the bottle and hurriedly drinking the last of the wine. “This was from last weekend, when you and I… Anyway, he had one glass. I drank most of it. He should be fine.”

“Tell him to let us know when he gets home safely,” Rose said.

James snapped off a lazy salute then sent Jack a text, passing along Rose’s request. He set the Tupperware container of cupcakes on the counter before grabbing two clean bowls from the dishwasher he hadn’t bothered to empty.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t,” Rose said with a grimace. “I already had one after they came out of the oven. Plus pizza. M’gonna puff up like a balloon.”

She pinched her waist, and James frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flamed pink and she dropped her hand limply to her side. 

“I had a huge, greasy burger and chips for dinner. D’you think I’m gonna puff up like a balloon?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, no. But you’re…” She let her sentence dangle as she waved her hand vaguely up and down his body. 

“And you’re…” He mirrored her gesture. “Rose, I find you absolutely beautiful, and you losing or gaining weight won’t change my opinion. Not that my opinion should matter. If you don’t want a cupcake, or if you’re not hungry, that’s fine. And again, not that you need my approval.”

Rose sighed and twisted her hands in front of herself before she turned away from him and rooted in his freezer for ice cream he always made sure to have on hand.

“I had a minor eating disorder as a teen,” Rose said quietly, pulling out the ice cream and shutting the freezer. “Nothing too serious. I was obsessed with my weight, and was really careful with what I ate. I counted and logged calories. I grew out of it when I realized watching what I ate made me feel even worse about myself. Of course I still tried to eat healthy and to eat reasonably-sized portions, but I stopped being so strict with it. I obviously started putting on some weight, nothing too drastic, but Jimmy would often tease me and tell me to lay off the chips or whatever, because rock stars don’t date chubby girls.”

James’s ears were ringing with rage and heartbreak, and he was furious with himself for everything he had accused Rose of last night regarding Jimmy.

“Rose, I…”

“As I said, I’m fine now and I don’t really care about my weight or body image as much,” Rose interrupted, setting the ice cream on the counter in front of him. “But sometimes those thoughts pop up without me realizing it. Like they did just now.”

Unsure of how to respond, James instead took a cupcake out of the Tupperware container, unwrapped the paper from the bottom, and set it into the bowl. “Did I… did I say something wrong?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. You told me your opinion, but didn’t shove it in my face or try to force me to believe you. And like I said, I don’t often realize when I’m having these thoughts.”

He nodded and forced his lips into some semblance of a smile that he hoped looked supportive. He then returned his gaze to the bowl and the ice cream she’d retrieved.

“D’you want to share this with me?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl with a spoon.

Rose nodded. He scooped several large dollops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl then he went to his junk drawer. It overflowed with a random assortment of objects: scissors, several different types of batteries, notepads, pens, pencils, a ruler, a screwdriver, tape, glue, Band-Aids, rubber bands, paper clips, binder clips, thumbtacks, toothpicks, a ball of twine, a condom, a tampon, and so many other things James didn't remember throwing into the drawer.

He dug through the mishmash of objects until he found a small, half-empty box of birthday candles and a matchbook. He took out four candles and brought them and the matches over to where Rose stood at the counter.

“I would try to shove twenty-two of them into the cupcake, but firstly I don’t have twenty-two candles, and secondly, I’m pretty sure I would end up pulverizing the poor cupcake into a pile of crumbs. So use your imagination; two and two equates to twenty-two.”

He shoved two of the candles side by side into the left side of the cupcake, right before the H and B in “Happy Birthday”. The other two, he stuck into the right side of the cupcake, behind both Ys. Striking the match, he ignored the shaking in his hands as he lit the candles. He then promptly blew out the match and dropped it into the water-filled wine glass in the sink to let it stop smoking. However, Rose must have seen the tremor in his hands, because she reached over and threaded their fingers together.

“I don’t like fire,” he admitted. “For obvious reasons.”

“You didn’t have to light the candles then,” Rose said gently.

“Pfff. It’s your birthday. Can’t have a birthday without blowing out some candles. How else will you get a free wish?”

Rose cracked a small smile and squeezed his fingers. She leaned forward as though she were about to blow out her candles. James cried, “Wait!”

She pulled back with a start.

“It’s your twenty-second birthday. I would think you would remember how this goes by now,” he drawled. He then sucked in a deep breath and began to sing. “Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Ro-ooose. Happy Birthday to youuuuu.”

She was grinning by the end of it, especially when he intentionally sang off-key for the sole purpose of making her smile. He’d made her cry too much in the last twenty-four hours; a smile from her was a welcome sight.

“Right. Those candles are all charged up with birthday magic. Now you can make a wish and blow,” he said, bowing and gesturing to her cupcake.

Rolling her eyes at him, Rose closed her eyes and paused for about five seconds, before she blew out a short breath, extinguishing the candles with ease. He applauded her effort, then yanked the candles out of the cupcake and extended two of them to her. They licked off the cake crumbs and icing—cream cheese, he noted with delight—then dropped them into the trash.

“Let’s eat this before all the ice cream melts,” James said, gesturing to the table. “Want anything to drink? More wine?”

“Just water.”

He grabbed two glasses from the dishwasher and filled them with water from the pitcher in the fridge before plopping down at the table beside Rose. He noticed his phone had a new text notification; Jack had replied, letting him know he was home. James relayed the news to Rose, then gestured for her to take the first bite of her birthday cupcake.

For several long minutes, they sat silently together, trading off bites of cupcake and ice cream until the bowl was empty. 

“That was very good,” he praised, swiping his finger through the melted mess of ice cream and chocolate crumbs on the bottom of the bowl and licking the digit clean.

“Thanks. Elsa loves to bake but doesn't get the chance to do it as often as she likes because she lives in the dorms on campus.” Rose ran her fingertip along the rim of her glass. “When I invited her over to my flat, she said stress baking was a requirement. She didn’t know it was my birthday until we started decorating the cupcakes.”

“Do you have an aversion to people knowing it’s your birthday?”

She snorted. “No. But it just… it didn’t feel right to celebrate. Not when we’d…” She trailed off with a shrug. “All month I’d been looking forward to finally telling you it was my birthday. It didn’t feel right to tell anyone about my birthday if I couldn’t tell you.”

“I really buggered your birthday,” he sighed, chest tightening.

“Nah.” She pursed her lips. “Okay, well, yeah. But it wasn’t just you. I didn’t help. I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate my birthday today, so I kept it to myself. Anyways. Elsa knocked a bit of sense into me this afternoon. Helped put some things into better perspective.”

“I’m glad you have a friend like that to share things with,” he said.

Rose hummed in agreement. “She also called me out for being an idiot.”

James snorted. “Jack did much the same for me.” He paused, fidgeting uncomfortably for a few seconds before he blurted, “I am so sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry for snooping through your mail and reading that letter, and I’m so sorry for jumping to a conclusion that was absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry for accusing you of not trusting me. I’m sorry I twisted the situation and your words and actions to put the blame all on you. I’m sorry I let my own insecurities warp my perceptions of you and our relationship, and I’m so, so sorry for ever insinuating that you would want to go back to Jimmy.”

Rose was dead silent. When James chanced a peek over at her, he was horrified to see tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and they fell down her cheeks.

Sniffling, she wiped at them and whispered, “That really hurt. I thought I had told you enough about Jimmy to show you he wasn’t a nice person to be in a relationship with. And I thought…” 

“You did,” James interrupted fervently. “You did Rose. You were absolutely correct in saying I had selective memory. You told me more about him than I realized. I was too caught up in my own head last night to remember everything you’d said. I’m so sorry about that.”

Rose waved him off. “Forget Jimmy for a minute. Even if he wasn’t a wanker… It hurt that you would think I would be tempted into a new relationship with someone else when we’ve been so happy together. At least, I’ve been happy.”

“I’ve been happy, too,” James said. He covered her hand with his. “I swear, Rose. I’ve been so happy with you.”

He wished he had better answers for her. He wished he could explain what had triggered him last night, explain how his brain had disregarded nearly seven months of a friendship and four months of a relationship stronger than he’d ever had before. Why had he thought Rose would be tempted by an ex-boyfriend who had treated her so horribly? Why did he have the anxiety that Rose would see through his facade and realize he wasn’t as exciting as she’d thought? Why was he so fearful she would leave?

Because everyone leaves.

The realization crashed over him with the force of a tidal wave, pushing his head beneath the water until he could barely breathe. He was drowning, fighting a losing battle against the current, about to be swept away into the sea when he was thrown a lifeline.

Rose squeezed his fingers hard, grounding him, pulling him back to the moment. His chest was tight and tears blurred his vision.

Everyone leaves.

His mother, who had thought it more prudent to attend to their dogs rather than get herself to safety with her husband and son.

His father, who had rescued him from their burning house only to leave him on the street to go back inside. James hadn’t been enough to keep his dad by his side, and so he had lost two parents that night.

His aunt, who had never wanted kids, had never expected to have kids. She pulled long hours and travelled incessantly, chasing big news stories while James pretended he was fine with being alone, while silently wishing his dad had never saved him from their house. He knew without a doubt that, if his aunt could do it all over again, if she knew then what she knew now, she never would have agreed to be his godmother when he was born. He loved his aunt, and knew his aunt loved him, but he wasn’t so naïve as to be ignorant of the fact that he had upheaved his aunt’s life, and not entirely for the better.

The friends he had left behind in the UK and never heard from again after he and his aunt moved to America. People he had known since childhood who hadn’t bothered putting in the effort to stay in touch, despite claiming they would.

His previous partners, many of whom finding ways to end their brief relationship after realizing he didn’t want to have sex with them. Time after time, he had to listen to them say it was fine that they weren’t being physically intimate—with an unspoken yet dangling between them—only to listen to them make up excuses for why they were ending the relationship. Granted, he had broken off a relationship himself a few times, but over half the time, his partner had been the one to end it.

Over and over, people came and people went, and at the heart of it, James was hardly more than a spectre, unable to be seen or heard as his heart was left broken. And yet when Rose had joined him, had taken his hand and made promises and vows that nobody ever had before, he had jumped at the first opportunity to assume she would leave him, too.

Chair legs scraped across the floor a moment before a warm, familiar arm wrapped around his waist. He turned into Rose and rested his cheek on her shoulder, breathing in her scent, the subtle tones of amber and citrus, of warmth and love and home.

Something deep in his chest cracked open, releasing the floodgates. For the past nine and a half years, he had been drifting, trying to make sense of how he could feel so alone when he was surrounded by people, able to make new friends and acquaintances at the drop of a hat. Yet there was always that disconnect, making him feel more like an outsider looking in. Like everyone else was aware of the punchline of a joke while he was left clueless.

Until Rose. With Rose it had been natural. Effortless. It was though his world had shifted into perfect focus, and at the heart of it was her. She had reminded him of what it felt like to belong, to feel perfectly at home with another person. And though he was desperate not to lose her and what they had together, part of him was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yet in doing so, he had let his anxiety take control and had hurt Rose badly enough that he had nearly caused her to do exactly what he had been terrified of.

James’s shoulders shook as he wept quietly into Rose’s neck, dampening the collar of her shirt. She didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she held him closer, rubbing her hand up and down the length of his spine as he sobbed and gasped for breath.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry for everything, Rose.”

Haltingly, through the juddering tears that cracked his voice, he explained his revelation to her. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was making excuses for himself, but he genuinely wanted her to understand the conclusion his big, stupid brain had come to.

“I let my fears take over,” he said, voice raw from crying and talking. “I didn’t realize what they were. And I didn’t realize how loud they’d gotten.”

“I understand,” Rose said quietly. “Believe me. I understand. Is there anything I can do to help you quiet them?”

James rubbed his hand beneath his clogged, stuffy nose and grimaced when it came away wet. He pulled away from Rose and stood, moving to the sink to wash his hands, then to grab a handful of tissues. He blotted his eyes then blew his nose before he sank into his seat beside her again.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I know this is a me problem, not a you problem. You’ve been wonderful, Rose. You and me… our relationship… it has all been wonderful. I don’t know why I was so quick to let ten minutes of screaming insecurities make me forget about half a year of loving you.”

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek, contemplating. “If ever there’s a time those voices are getting too loud, I’d like you to tell me. Though I know sometimes they can go unnoticed. But if you realize you’re getting stuck in your head, let me know and I’ll try to help you out of it.”

James flashed her a grateful smile. “Same for you. If there’s ever a time I can help you with whatever’s on your mind…”

Rose sighed. “I need to get better about that. I’ve realized I have a bad habit of telling myself I will deal with something later, but later never actually comes.” She sucked in a big breath and blew it out again. “I’m sorry you saw that letter from Jimmy. Yeah, you were a bit of a twat for reading it and reacting like you did. But I’m sorry you were blindsided like that, and that I ignored how it made you feel. And I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t trust you. I’m sorry I made you self-conscious for everything you’ve shared with me and that you feel like I don’t share enough with you.” She let out a sad little laugh that twisted his heart. “This is going to sound lame, but I honestly didn’t realize I wasn’t being as open with you as I thought I was. It feels like you know me better than anyone ever has, so I didn’t think to change anything. But now that I know how you feel, I want to work to be better at that.”

James shook his head and covered her hand. “No, Rose. I got caught up in my own head and in my frustration. You’ve shared more with me than I wanted to admit last night.” Jack’s words clanged around in his head. “I shouldn’t have expected the exact same level of sharing from you as I am comfortable with giving.”

“That’s not fair. I am comfortable with you…”

James cringed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not accusing you of anything, Rose. Merely stating a fact. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or upset, I swear. I want you to be comfortable talking with me, and forcing you to talk about things you aren’t comfortable with is counterproductive.”

“Thing is, I was always going to tell you everything about Jimmy,” Rose sighed. “When he first texted me, it sent me into a blind panic and I sorta… shut down. I wanted to take the time I needed to get into a better place before sharing it with you. But I guess I didn’t realize how long it was since he first texted me.”

James stayed silent, letting her get her thoughts together. He twined their fingers together, happy to be able to sit and touch her like this, when for many long, heartbreaking hours in the wee hours of that morning, he had been sure that he would never be able to do so again. Her hand fit perfectly in his, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make their relationship whole again, to make sure he could hold her hand for the rest of their lives.

When Rose began speaking, he gave her his full attention and tried to keep his emotions in check. He listened to her explain how Jimmy had texted her out of the blue, having gotten her number from a “mutual friend”.

“M’still not sure who gave it to him,” Rose said with a sigh. “He never told me and none of my friends claim to have done it.”

James listened to her describe the early conversations she’d had with Jimmy, from telling him that she needed time, to working through her anxiety with the help of Elsa and a counselor, to coming to the decision to let Jimmy say his piece.

“He was very important to me at one time. He was the love of my life. He was my everything. He will always be important and special because I genuinely loved him, and like it or not, my experiences with him shaped me into the person I am today. I don’t love him anymore, and frankly don’t miss him or want what we used to have, but if this would help him and me move on, I really wanted to let him say what he needed to say.

“He apologized to me, and it wasn’t even a terrible apology. Though he did make it sound like we both were at fault, but you know what, it was better than I was expecting, so I sorta took it as a win. I figured we were done, but then he wanted to know if he could repay me for all the debts he’d left me with. I can’t remember if I told you before, but he stopped paying his part of the rent at the end of our relationship. I got so behind on those payments because I had other bills to focus on that by the time I moved out, I was six months behind.

“I refused Jimmy’s offer. Told him everything was paid off and he didn’t owe me anything.” Rose sniffled and smiled ruefully, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You know my money insecurities. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might use this as a way to control me again. So I shut him down.”

“Good for you,” James murmured, his first words in a while. “You don’t have to go on. It’s okay.”

But Rose shook her head. “I want you to know all of this. I want to come to you when—as Elsa puts it—shit ties up my brain. And my brain has been in knots for over a month. I want to be better with being okay about my thoughts sometimes getting tangled; I realized if I waited until my brain was calm to tell you everything, I would never tell you anything. I don’t want secrets between us, and I’m frustrated with myself that I unwittingly kept secrets from you. I can’t promise I will tell you immediately when something is on my mind, but I will make more of an effort to be more open with you. I wish I’d told you all of this sooner, but I can’t go back and change how I handled this, so let me tell you all of this now.”

James nodded and brought their clasped hands to his lips for a soft kiss.

“After I told Jimmy I didn’t want his money, I thought we were done. I didn’t hear from him for a few days, but then I got a text from him, a selfie with some of our old friends. A harmless group photo. Then he started sharing news from home. Or he would send me playlists. Stupid, innocent stuff we used to. He has really good taste in music and I’m always happy to have new songs or artists to listen to.

“We started chatting a little more regularly. Not daily, but a few times a week. A few messages at a time. He shared updates about his life, told me about going to drug and alcohol meetings, financial counseling, and so on. I told him about America and school. I didn’t tell him about you, though. It’s stupid, and I should have because I don’t think Jimmy realizes I’m not single, but you’re mine.” The word sent a thrill up James’s spine, and he couldn’t help but kiss her knuckles again. “You’re mine and I didn’t want to share you with him. I didn’t want anything of Jimmy to touch you. And I wasn’t trying to lead him on or anything. Or keep him a secret from you. But all of a sudden it’s been five weeks since he first texted.

“Then he sent me that letter. It came two days ago. I cried when I got it. I never gave him my address, so I panicked that he had somehow stalked me and found me, that he would be waiting at the university for me. And I was just… so defeated. I thought maybe he’d changed. Grown up or something. Stupidly, I thought maybe we could eventually be friends. But the only thing he wanted was for me to get back together with him.”

Rose’s tears dripped down her cheeks and her breathing hitched. James wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. She willingly leaned into him and sniffled quietly for a long moment.

“Did you really think that was a love letter?” Rose croaked.

“Pardon?”

“What Jimmy wrote to me. Did you think it read like a love letter?”

James sucked on the inside of his lower lip. He tried to remember the content of the letter, but his memories were all tainted with the pain of their argument.

“I don’t remember enough of it,” he confessed. “I’m sorry.”

Rose lifted her bum off of her chair, reaching into her back pocket to pull out a piece of paper that had been folded into eighths.

“Here,” she said, giving it to him.

Tentatively, he took it. Rose pulled herself out of his embrace and grabbed a tissue from the crumpled pile he had brought over. 

As he reread the letter, his stomach twisted into knots when he picked out several words and phrases.

I’ve found a piece of myself…

I’m not complete…

I hate the person I am without you… 

…happiest of my life… 

…nothing more I’ve wanted…

…(our life?)… 

You make me feel like I can do anything… 

I love how I feel when I’m with you… 

I was scared about how much I needed you… 

…something I always knew would be there for me… 

I know I can make it work this time… 

…enjoy your time there, while you can… 

…we can work harder together to make us work… 

I will do whatever it takes to make this work… 

Over and over, James read the letter, his mind picking up more of the tone and the sheer selfishness in it. Everything Jimmy said was about him, about how he needed Rose, without giving a thought about whether Rose wanted or needed him. He plainly admitted to taking her for granted, and still, after all this time, he acted as though he and Rose were equally at fault for how their relationship had ended.

How must it have sounded to Rose, for him to go off on her about the letter?

“Oh, Rose,” James breathed, “I’m so sorry. God, I was a twat, wasn’t I?”

She let out a watery giggle. “Yeah, a bit.”

“Can I ask…? How did Jimmy find your address? I mean. Do you even know how he found it?”

Rose’s eyes welled with tears again, even as she scoffed. “My mum.”

“Your… mum?” That had not been what James had expected. “But… why?”

Rose shook her head. “Apparently Jimmy went ‘round the estate. Found my mum and told her we’d been chatting. Said he wanted to send me money to help cover the bills I’d paid. He said exactly the right thing—when I moved back home, my mum kept telling me over and over that Jimmy should cough up the money to cover his half of the flat and the expenses that had built up. 

“A couple weeks ago, my mum asked me if I’d been chatting with Jimmy. When I said yes, I guess she assumed I knew Jimmy wanted to repay me but I was being unreasonable.” Rose’s face crumpled. “I know my mum didn’t know how badly Jimmy had treated me, and that's my fault for not telling her. But what if he’d been a murderous stalker? What if he’d physically or sexually abused me? What if he used that information and showed up alone at my flat one night and broke in and…?”

She coughed out a wracking sob and buried her face in her hands. James nearly began crying at the sight of her distress. “How dare my mum give out my address like that? I never thought she’d do something like that. My mum called to wish me a happy birthday and I told her a little bit about why you and I were fighting, and she told me she was the one who gave Jimmy my address. I got so angry with her, and she was gettin’ angry with me. I’ve spent the day crying ‘cos I was fighting with my two favorite people.”

James tossed the letter onto the table and wrapped his arms around Rose, holding her tightly to his chest. He had never been angrier with another person than he was right now with Jackie Tyler. Well. Jackie Tyler and Jimmy bloody Stone. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m sorry.”

“Joke’s on Mum, though; Jimmy didn’t send a single quid with that letter.” Rose sniffled and scrubbed her hands across her eyes. “I hate this. I wish I’d blocked Jimmy from the start, I wish I’d told you when he texted, I wish I’d told my mum not to talk to Jimmy. I wish I’d handled everything differently, and I wish I hadn’t gotten so upset with you last night. I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry for it all.”

James tightened his hold around her, burying his face into her neck while she wept into his. “You have every right to handle situations however you think is best. I should have had more faith and trust in you and in our relationship. I was unreasonable. But I forgive you, love. Of course I forgive you. I love you. I love you more than you can imagine, and I’m so sorry I doubted it last night.”

Rose began crying harder into his shoulder. Her breaths came out in harsh gasps as she managed to reply, “I love you too. I’m sorry for putting the doubt in your head… when you asked if I was breaking up with you and I said I didn’t know. God, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean it at all. I got scared too, same as you, and my brain sort of shut down because it couldn’t stop thinking of everything Jimmy had said or done in the past, and twisting it to look like what you were saying and doing. That’s something I need to work on because that’s insulting for me to imply that you’re anything like him, but I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed you out, and I’m so sorry.”

James merely held her tighter, his heart breaking at her agony, yet filling with more love for her than he’d ever felt before.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, Rose,” he murmured into her hair. “The strongest. You’ve overcome so much, and you’re working to make yourself the best version of yourself that you can be, and that’s so admirable. I am here to listen to anything you want to tell me, but I am okay with not knowing everything. I trust your judgement, and I know you’ll tell me what you want me to know.”

He continued speaking quietly, a combination of reassurances, affirmations, and words of love. She shed more tears than he’d ever seen her shed, and he shed just as many. He was exhausted and overwhelmed, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a very long time tangled with Rose.

When her tears finally dried, he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head before sitting back in his chair. He grabbed a tissue for himself and passed one to her; they noisily blew their noses and wiped their eyes.

“Well. Wasn’t that cathartic?” he said cheerfully, holding his hand out for her tissue to throw in the rubbish bin.

She chuckled. Though her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were splotchy, he didn’t think there was a more beautiful person in the world than her.

He washed his hands after throwing away their used tissues, then he grabbed a few more, just in case. His nose was still a bit runny, and he was sure Rose’s had to be too. He plopped into his chair with a groan.

“First fight,” he mused. “Can tick that one off the list, I suppose.”

“Was it everything you expected it to be?” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

“Admittedly it was a lot more painful than I thought,” he said. “But now we can go back to how we were, right?”

Rose paused. In the silence, his heart sank into his stomach.

“I don’t know if we should,” she said carefully, and his lungs were suddenly out of air. Her eyes widened. “No, not like you’re thinking. It’s just… everything we fought about, everything we talked about, it changed us. It changed our relationship. Not in a bad way, but it’s different now. We’re more aware of some things that we weren’t before. I don’t want to go backwards with you. I want us to go forward. Together.”

James nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. He slid his hand across the table, slipping it beneath Rose’s so her palm rested against the back of his hand. He splayed his fingers, letting hers fall between the gaps. She curled her fingers around his hand.

“You’re right,” he said, caressing his thumb along the side of her pinkie. “Absolutely, you’re right. Guess this means the honeymoon period is over?”

“Probably.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Hopefully we’re not over the horny hump though.”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that I said that, are you?” he whined, grimacing.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ as he often did. “It was such a dorky thing to call it.”

He pouted. “You never complained about my dorkiness before.”

“I love your dorkiness. Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it though.” Her smile slipped until her face turned solemn. “I’m really glad we talked this out, James.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Me too.”

“Any time Jimmy and I had an argument, we never did this. We’d shout at each other, curse at each other, and then ignore each other and not speak for a day or so. Then we’d have angry make up sex and pretend everything was fine in the morning. I don’t want to ever do that again. I want to communicate with you and to compromise with you, then grow with you.

“Staying in love is a choice, and it takes work. It shouldn’t be hard, but it’s not easy either. We need to choose to stay in love, decide that our relationship is worth making an effort for. I want to wake up every day and choose you, to choose us, and I want to put in the work because I wanna enjoy the payoff. Because being in love with you, James… it’s the best I’ve ever felt. You make me feel like I can do anything, like pass a stupid chemistry class or tell my stupid ex-boyfriend to fuck off. I love the way you make me feel. I love feeling like I’m home whenever I’m with you. And though this home we’re building with each other might have a leaky roof every now and then, I wanna fix it with you.”

James’s eyes were burning again. How was anything even left in his tear ducts? “Oh, Rose. You make me feel the same way. And I feel so inadequate because you just waxed romantic poetry at me, but my brain has stopped working. But please know I love you with every cell in my body, and I want to keep loving you with every cell, all the way down to each little organelle contained within, every day for the rest of our long and beautiful life together.”

Rose grinned at him and leaned over to press a light kiss to his lips. They tingled at the contact, and he wanted to pull her close to kiss her again.

“You’re such a science geek,” she said.

“Well. I’ve already shown you I’m rather fabulous with many types of chemistry and anatomy,” he drawled, flashing her an over-the-top wink as he clicked his tongue lewdly.

She burst into a fit of laughter that he echoed, feeling at peace for the first time in twenty-four hours. The exhaustion of all those hours suddenly overwhelmed him. His laughter morphed into a yawn, which spread to Rose.

“I’m knackered,” he announced unnecessarily. “Will you come to bed with me? My bedroom’s a disaster, but the guest bed is made.”

Rose nodded and stood up from the kitchen table. She took their bowl to the sink and rinsed it out before leaving it there for them to clean properly in the morning. She then flicked off the light on top of the stove before she followed him through the rest of the house, locking up and turning lights off as they went.

“Can I see what you’ve done to your room?” Rose asked.

“Sure,” he said, continuing down the hall rather than peeling off into the guest room. When he got to his closed door, he warned, “It’s a mess.”

They were hit with the stench of paint fumes as soon as he opened the bedroom door. He flicked on the light, and the room was bathed in the yellow glow of his lamps.

“Love the color,” Rose said.

“Yeah?” he asked, pleased with himself that, even in his miserable, depressive state of trying to not think about Rose, he had managed to pick a color she would like.

“Mhm.”

“I have to put on the second coat. I’ll probably do that tomorrow—I’m not really feeling like going to my classes, so I’ll probably ditch ‘em again.”

“You rebel,” she teased. “If you want some help, I don’t have anything important going on tomorrow. And I don’t work this weekend. We can take a few days to finish up the painting and reorganize your furniture.”

James smiled. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and tucked her face against his shoulder. “Besides, it’ll go faster with two.”

Leaning down, James brushed a kiss to her crown then rested his cheek in her hair. “Faster with two. Better with two.” He gave her waist a tight squeeze as he kissed her again. “Better with you.”

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #hurt/comfort #angst #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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TOS Novel #49: The Pandora Principle

TOS #49: The Pandora Principle by Carolyn Clowes Book Jacket’s Summary:      “A Romulan Bird-of-Prey mysteriously drifts over the Neutral Zone and into Federation territory. Admiral Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise investigate, only to find the ship dead in space. When Starfleet orders the derelict ship brought to Earth for investigation, the Enterprise returns home with perhaps her greatest prize.      But the Bird-of-Prey carries a dangerous cargo, a deadly force that is soon unleashed in the heart of the Federation. Suddenly, the only hope for the Federation's survival lies buried in the tortured memory of Commander Spock's protégé, a cadet named Saavik. Together, Spock and Saavik must return to the nightmare world of Saavik's birth, a planet called Hellguard, to discover the secret behind the Romulans' most deadly threat of all.” Yeaka’s Notes:     Set between the first two movies, The Pandora Principle is a fascinating thriller that can get incredibly dark but also prove thoroughly rewarding. If you want more of Saavik, or never quite got her and want to understand her better, this is an absolute must have. In the occasional well placed flashback, it tells the overview of Vulcans rescuing her from a nightmarish planet and Spock personally seeing to her education, refusing to give up on her despite the wishes of his people and father. She goes from a feral hellion to an inquisitive cadet, with tons of individual personality. In the present day story, she comes aboard her mentor’s ship only to find chaos from her past. Both sets of stories are intriguing. While the book focuses mostly on Spock and Saavik, all of the original cast members have something to do, even Kirk, who gets hilariously shelved for a good chunk.     Unfortunately, some of Saavik’s memories get truly disturbing—this book should come with a trigger warning for mass death, abused children, mentions of rape, and a couple graphic scenes of torture. Baring that, though, this one is really difficult to put down. It has a few other OCs that are equally unique and compelling, but mostly, this will make you fall in love with Saavik. If you can stomach the occasional bouts of violence, this is a more than worthy read. If it wasn’t for those few scenes, I’d dub this book an excellent and absolute must-have. Noteworthy moments: (below cut, spoilery) 

Ch1/p3 Spock speaks of half Vulcan children on an inhospitable Romulan world with the Council of Elders, Spock disagrees with the council and Sarek scolds him, they’re all appalled when he tries to bring the Federation into it, Sarek expresses disappointment in his human half and makes him leave 

Ch2/p26 Saavik wakes up from a childhood nightmare at Starfleet Academy

p32 Spock’s sent Saavik daily messages for years

p41 Uhura’s invented Starfleet’s new code, “Rosecrypt” (“a rose by any other name”)

p49 Uhura gets a com from Kirk: “I WANT SPOCK! NOW!”; Uhura’s stressed and gets the con; Bones gives her a hypospray and asks for a private shuttle in return

Ch3/p52 Starfleet officer with a strange, adorable alien friend he won’t leave behind

p54 Spock pulls rank to get himself a shuttle instead of Bones

p62 Spock took a year off to raise feral child Saavik because no one else would and she refused others, he takes her to an alien world, she starts taking animals and local children home, he appreciates that she gives him unconditional acceptance

p68 Spock has to give child Saavik the pon farr talk, he remembers his father telling him why he must bond with T’Pring; Spock tells Saavik of Amok Time and says “She [T’Pring] was a bitch!”

Ch4/p74 Saavik on the Enterprise for the first time, loving it because of all the stories Spock told her; she tells Uhura “I have never seen anyone so aesthetically pleasing,” Uhura tells her to look in a mirror, Spock explains it’s a complement

p78 Kirk runs into an admiring ensign reading Treasure Planet and teases him

p87 Saavik joins a baseball team

Ch7/p137 Spock in command, Kirk fusses, Spock promises to return the Enterprise in prime condition, Bones loudly bursts in to question everything

p146 Sulu explains Pandora’s box to Saavik (who thinks it was the gods’ fault)

Ch8/p154 Bones gives Saavik a medical exam, she dislikes him; “Saavik” means “little cat” in Romulan

Ch9/p185 Spock devised a secret plan with Scotty and Sulu in his quarters

Ch11/p222 Scotty and Sulu commanding Enterprise in a crisis

#tos #novels #yeakas #spock #saavik #vulcans #romulans #james t kirk #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #leonard mccoy #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov #heihachiro nogura #new aliens #the pandora principle #carolyn clowes #tw: torture

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TOS Novel #48: Rules of Engagement

TOS #48: Rules of Engagement by Peter Morwood Book Jacket’s Summary:     “A sudden revolution on the planet Dekkanar brings Captain Kirk and the USS Enterprise running to evacuate Federation personnel trapped there. But their orders from Starfleet are quite clear; the U.S.S. Enterprise is to assist in the evacuation, no more. No weapons are to be displayed, no shields raised, no shots fired.     Meanwhile, halfway across the galaxy, an experimental Klingon warship sets forth on a mission of its own, a warship with hidden – and heretofore undreamed of – capabilities, commanded by a warrior who will stop at nothing to bring glory to his Empire – and restore his own lost honor.     The Klingon ship's destination? The planet Dekkanar…” Yeaka’s Notes:    Though technically a follow up to the original series episodes “Errand of Mercy” and “The Trouble with Tribbles,” Rules of Engagement is set between the first and second movies. It very heavily references other Trek books, including several of their movie-era characters, and especially their Klingon characterizations. They even mention The Final Reflection, and the Klingons, which are all over this story and have several POV chapters of their own, are indeed more like that than the later TNG and up version. As I personally found The Final Reflection insufferable, that was bad news for me, but if you don’t mind your Klingons in that light, it should be fine. The writing itself can get a bit dense and slow but is otherwise decent. Not a lot actually happens in this one, and the Klingons’ ‘plot’ is weak at best. Most of the original cast is present, and at least they’re in character and have some good humour. Basically this is just one of those ones that wasn’t for me, but if you love old-style Klingons and want more of their internal politics on a small, M-5 like ship, maybe it’ll be worth a shot for you.

Ch1/p2 Kirk disliked the undercover mission in TOS: “The Balance of Power” for its espionage

p3 Bones orders Kirk down for a physical; Bones concludes he’s healthy but a little over-weight and gives him Romulan Ale

p7 In the rec room, Kirk suspects a program was modified by “the Sulu-Chekov team”

p12 Kirk wonders how many of his crew read “The Final Reflection,” he worries about their Klingon fascination, they play a Klingon opera show, Kirk finds it immature and is disturbed when his crew regards such violence as casual entertainment

Ch2/p20 Kirk and Spock have quarters on opposite ends of the ship to avoid an attack killing them both at once, Spock’s early to duty and Kirk teases him that he ran there; Spock “was feeling thoroughly full of beans”

p30 Bones waits on the bridge to make sure Kirk goes to bed, Kirk says Bones sounds like his mother

p32 Discussing Chekov’s upcoming transfer, Sulu asks if he’d like a ship of his own, Chekov says a Russian-sounding one

p34 Uhura at the con

Ch3/46 The Klingons have an automated ship like the M-F

Ch7/p147 With Spock’s help, Kirk speaks Klingonese 

p152 A Klingon thinks “Makhoy” moves like a Romulan and has the name of a warrior

p159 Klingons research Kirk

Ch9/p193 Klingons on the Enterprise, one complains about how humans their drinks either too hot or too cold

p209 Horta ensign helps out

Ch10/p244 An Organian

#tos #novels #yeakas #james t kirk #leonard mccoy #spock #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #klingons #rules of engagement #peter morwood

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TOS Novel #45: Double, Double

TOS #45: Double, Double by Michael Jan Friedman Book Jacket’s Summary:      “On a routine exploratory mission, the Starship USS Hoodpicks up a distress signal from a research expedition thought lost long ago – the expedition of Dr. Roger Korby, one of the centuries' greatest scientific minds. Korby himself is dead, it seems, but his colleagues have made a most incredible discovery – a discovery they insist theHood's captain see for himself. Reluctantly, the captain agrees to beam down...      Meanwhile, the crew of the USS Enterprise begins long-overdue shore leave on Tranquility Seven. James T. Kirk is looking forward to a few days of rest and relaxation... until what seems like a bizarre case of mistaken identity plunges Kirk into a whirlpool of mayhem and murder. And puts an inhuman stranger with his memories and abilities in command of the Enterprise.” Yeaka’s Notes:     Though the book doesn’t actually state it anywhere, this is a direct sequel to the TOS episode “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” and it’s absolutely necessary to have seen that first. This story picks up in the immediate aftermath and proceeds to rehash the “evil Kirk android” storyline, “I’m sick of your half-breed interference [Mister Spock]” and all.     In some ways, this is a very frustrating read. It’s a little longer than most of the numbered TOS pocketbooks, and the majority of it is that exact problem that we’ve already seen on the show—an imposter on the Enterprise that we know of, but none of the characters do. Brown is back, and all of the TOS characters feature in it, even Chapel, though not as much as you might expect given that her late fiancé is the cause of all the trouble. More duplicates are made this time, and a few people eventually suspect something, but not until it’s far too late. There is a brief encounter with another alien race at the beginning, wherein Kirk winds up with a young alien boy (that apparently the universal translator won’t work for) following him onto the Enterprise. That particular semi-fatherhood plotline doesn’t go very far, but there’s enough going on as is.     Though the familiar arc is grating for a while, what with the reader knowing so much more than the oblivious characters, the real Kirk does eventually get involved enough to make it interesting again, and by the time the climax has struck, it’s hard not to be thoroughly invested. When the original cast members do get their moments to shine, it’s well worth the wait—Sulu fencing, Bones finally seeing the light, Spock comforting Chapel, Scotty with his full on Scottish brogue, and Uhura knowing just what to do. If you were particularly fond of that episode and wanted to know what Kirk put in his log, you pretty much have to pick this one up. Otherwise, may as well anyway for what really does feel like another old-school TOS episode. Noteworthy moments: (below cut)

Ch1/p5 A naked Kirk android is made (he still has the instinctive dislike for Spock the real Kirk conned onto him in TOS: “What Are Little Girls Made Of?”)

Ch2/p16 When Kirk risks his life to save a child, Bones and Spock argue over forcibly rescuing him

Ch4/p36 Bones agrees to let Kirk skip a physical if he wins a bet in the gym; Chapel cries and thanks Kirk for being deliberately vague about Dr. Korby in his report

p41 Bones bets Kirk a physical he can’t beat a crew woman in a duel with a “ball-and-thong” weapon

Ch8/p81 Sulu teaches Kirk’s ward how to fence, Kirk joins and remembers Uhura calling him a mother hen

Ch10/p99 Kirk tries to convince Spock to come for R&R, Spock refuses, Bones’ disappointed he won’t get to see Spock “loosen up”

p107 Kirk, Scotty, and Bones go drinking and get in a bar fight

Ch21/p222 Spock comforts a distraught Chapel 

#tos #novels #yeakas #james t kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #christine chapel #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #montgomery scott #brown #doctor brown #what are little girls made of? #new aliens #androids #double double #michael jan friedman #romulans

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TOS Novel #44: Vulcan’s Glory

TOS #44: Vulcan’s Glory by D.C. Fontana Book Jacket’s Summary:      “Here is a very special Star Trek novel; from the woman consistently voted by fans as their favorite writer from the original Star Trek television series!       D.C. Fontana, writer of such classic episodes as "Journey to Babel" and "This Side of Paradise", here brings us the never-before-told story of a very young Mr. Spock, on his first mission aboard the USS Enterprise. You'll also meet Captain Christopher Pike and his enigmatic first officer, "Number One" (previously seen only in the original Star Trek pilot "The Cage"), as well as the ship's brand-new engineering officer, Montgomery Scott.       Vulcan's Glory is the tale of Spock's struggle to reconcile his many obligations – those forced on him by his Vulcan heritage, and those chosen by him upon his enlistment in Starfleet – to balance the wishes of others against the desires of his own heart.” Yeaka’s Notes:     This one’s bookjacket is uncharacteristically author-based instead of story-focused, and the praises it sings aren’t wrong—D.C. Fontana does write excellent books that slip right into Trek canon, and this is no exception. Even though this is set before the less-established pilot episode, it still feels very TOS. Pike and Boyce privately confide in one another instead of Kirk and Bones, the captain beams down for a dangerous mission in costume and alone, and Spock plays sidekick and computer genius. Pike, Boyce, and Number One from “The Cage” all appear regularly, Amanda, Sarek, and T’Pring make an early appearance, Scotty has a fun side-plot, and Spock gets tangled up in everything.     It starts out with him on Earth, recalled to Vulcan by Sarek. There, he’s forced to confront T’Pring, who insists he marry her or pay a large sum to her every month—he finds her disturbingly cold and chooses the latter. Sarek and Amanda are disappointed in him for not marrying her sooner, and Sarek is comically out of the room (speaking only through a device in Amanda’s ear) for this to adhere to the canon version of how many years they went without ‘directly’ speaking to one another. After his Vulcan struggles, Spock reports to the Enterprise for the first time. Pike’s unsure of him, though Number One backs Spock up, and then they head to their first mission—until the discovery of a hugely valuable (both monetarily and culturally) Vulcan gem is discovered. They divert to that, wind up with a murder mystery on their hands, and then resume the mission on an underdeveloped planet. There Pipe promptly chucks the Prime Directive right out the window by deliberately uniting three separate factions. Spock also has a romantic—and quickly sexual—affair with a Vulcan woman on the Enterprise that he considers abandoning T’Pring for. Meanwhile, unrelated to nearly everything else, Scotty reports for his first duty on the Enterprise and immediately starts up a mini distillery in Engineering.     For fans of the pilot, this book is really a must have. All of its characters are well fleshed out, including a subtle romance between Number One and Pike. The original characters are likeable enough, though they don’t get much screen time to work with. Though some of the storylines have nothing to do with him at all, Spock really is the star of this story, and there are plenty of Vulcanism to enjoy. The plot is ever-evolving and entertaining, and it all wraps up well. This is a great addition to the TOS collection. Noteworthy moments: (below cut)

Ch1/p9 In Hawaii, Spock recalls his kahs-wan (TAS: “Yesteryear”), he loosely investigated “Selek” and misses I-Chaya

p14 Spock’s last captain, Daniels, from the Artemis, ordered him to R&R before reassignment to the Enterprise with a promotion to full lieutenant; Sarek orders him back to Vulcan after 8 years of no content

p21 Amanda remembers going to the beach with Sarek, who’d initially brought work, then came down to her in boots and saw her disheveled for the first time, where he said she’s never looked so lovely

Ch2/p25 Spock comes home to Amanda’s warm greeting, they eat dinner without Sarek who’s still not speaking to Spock; they have a family meeting that Sarek monitors remotely and communicates via a bug in Amanda’s ear, Sarek and Amanda try to pressure Spock into marrying T’Pring

p36 Pike thinks Number One is “perfect”, the best in the fleet and wishes he could know her better but accepts that she doesn’t seem to do deep friendships; Pike tells Number One he’s not sure he’s going to like a Vulcan on the bridge, Number One reads his file; Spock entered the Academy at 16, did 2 years in the accelerated Vulcan course and 1 year in the required cadet working coruse aboard various ships, graduated at 19, did 3 years as assistant science officer on a space cutter in the Sol system, then was promoted to lieutenant junior grade and third officer on the Artemis; then they examine Scotty’s record

Ch3/p40 Spock visits T’Pring at her father’s estate, her father Salen says she should have been married at 18, her mother is dead and she has 4 brothers, Senak (the youngest) talks to Spock and admires him, Salen thinks Spock will be a good son-in-law eventually

p44 Spock meets privately with T’Pring in her garden and finds her exquisite but a cold stranger, T’Pring confronts him on avoiding her, she touches him and he feels nothing, she demands that he pay her monthly until their wedding via tradition, he suggests she choose another husband but she refuses, and he agrees to announce their marriage, pay her, and return on his pon farr

p51 Stonn arrives and T’Pring tells him they can continue their affair and have Spock’s money

Ch4/p54 Spock sees Scotty for the first time and gets his quarters, Scotty gets his quarters, he built a replica of the Enterprise when he learned he was assigned there and it’s as familiar to him as his mother’s house in Linlithgow, West Lothian, Scotland; he gets a large 2-room suite with another assistant engineer; he brought an ancient fighting targe and a sheathed 2-handed broadsword protected by a red Scott tartan that’ve been passed down in his family for centuries

p56 Seeing Pike, Spock thinks he’s about an inch shorter than Spock, “inordinately attractive [...] graced with black hair, intensely blue eyes that seemed to notice everything, and a slim, well-muscled body. His voice was confident and friendly”

p58 Pike explains that Number One is genetically perfect, the best from Ilyria that year, says some officers have a problem with that, Spock says he doesn’t; Pike and Spock go to Pike’s quarters, Pike rejected the customary 3 room suit in favour of the same-sized accommodations as his crew

p61 Scotty drinks with his new roommate; Spock meets a Vulcan lieutenant and immediately has a subtle crush on her

Ch5/p67 Boyce’s POV and backstory

p80 Number One’s bored off duty but enjoys null-g ball games with the chief engineer, her friend, who says Scotty’s the best and will go far and asks about Number One’s crush on Pike

p87 Scotty on graveyard shift secretly making alcohol

Ch6/p92 Spock leads an all-Vulcan away team

p98 A Vulcan woman comes to Spock’s quarters to ask about him personally

Ch8/p150 Spock’s interrupted at the start of sex, his girlfriend waits for him in bed and calls him “master of my heart,” which is apparently traditional for Vulcans

Ch11/209 Spock considers ending his betrothal to T’Pring though Sarek would be furious and Amanda disappointed

Ch13/p246 Pike and Boyce talk about how Spock’s colder now and Number One is perfect; a Vulcan funeral

p250 Pike tells Number One to report to his quarters for dinner

#tos #novels #yeakas #christopher pike #number one #phillip boyce #spock #montgomery scott #sarek #amanda grayson #t'pring #vulcans #new aliens #d.c. fontana #vulcan's glory

[startrekreviews]

TOS Novel #41: The Three-Minute Universe

TOS #41: The Three-Minute Universe by Barbara Paul TW: Critical burns and major fire-related trauma. Book Jacket’s Summary:      “The Sackers. In all Captain James T. Kirk's travels, he has never found a race more universally shunned and abhorred. Their mere appearance caused most Federation members to become violently ill.      Now the Sackers have performed a deed whose brutality matches their horrifying exterior. They have stolen a revolutionary new scientific device – murdering an entire race in the process – and used it to create a rip in the fabric of space, a hole through which another universe is rapidly leaking. Unless Captain Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise can find a way to stop the new universe's expansion, it will consume – and utterly destroy – our own.” Yeaka’s Notes:    First off, don’t read this book if you’re triggered at all by fire—there’s an underlying side plot of Uhura remembering watching a friend die in a childhood house fire, several crew members are burned alive, and others receive critical burns. An entire planet dies early on and a colony’s poisoned. It sounds awful.     But, somehow, when it isn’t in those infrequent moments of awfulness, this is a wholly pleasant read—around the crises, there’s a number of intriguing mysteries going on, and most of the characters—even the ‘repulsive’ aliens—are highly likeable. All of the bridge crew are present and in-character. After discovering a rip in the universe and chasing down the murderous aliens who caused it, Kirk, Uhura, and Chekov are kidnapped by them, and it’s interesting to see that unusual configuration. Scotty also shadows an alien, while Bones and Spock alternatively bicker and miss Kirk on the Enterprise. Sulu innocently pilots whilst unknowingly having his name made into a legend. Though there are great moments and dialogue between the core crew, that alien interaction is the best part—the truly unique species have genuinely compelling relationships with their human counterparts; unfortunately, it’d spoil too much of the fun to explain why. Some of the questions have fairly obvious answers, but most don’t, and the answers are interesting and satisfying.     For those questions, the character interactions, and the originality of it all, I had a hard time putting this one down. For me, it’s a keeper. Noteworthy moments: (below cut)

Ch1/p7 Uhura’s memories of being in a fire when she was 10, watching a friend die; she goes to Bones for help sleeping despite the nightmares; only Bones, Kirk, and Spock know of her trauma as it’s listed in her official records

Ch3/p54 Chekov suggests the gross aliens they’re chasing move to Siberia; Uhura has a linguistics break through that even the computer and Spock couldn’t see

Ch4/p62 Chekov tries to assist Uhura in translating an alien language, she scolds him for translating “food” as “borscht”

Ch4/p71 Scotty wakes up in a cell with a redshirt

Ch5/p86 Both Spock and Bones heavily caution Kirk against beaming down into hostile conditions and worry for him; Kirk, Chekov, and Uhura are kidnapped, Uhura calls the alien commander “Babe” and the commander adopts it as a name (all the aliens take whatever name they’re given; Chekov later names one “orangejuiceandwodka”)

Ch6/p106 When Chekov figures something out, Kirk calls him a genius, Chekov “modestly” tells Uhura “I am a chenius”

Ch7/p171 When Kirk tries to have a secret meeting with Uhura, aliens ask if it’s so he can mate with her, he says yes to allay suspicion, Uhura can’t stop laughing over it

Ch9/p161 Chekov names a doctor “Bonesovna” (daughter of Bones)

Ch10/p188 Bones visits Spock in his quarters when he’s under enormous stress as the acting captain, they worry over Kirk

p196 Uhura scolds Chekov for thinking Spock might not figure out their plan

Ch12/p243 Scotty, Kirk, Spock, Chekov, and Uhura all have to cram together in a too-tiny space on top of each other

Ch13/p246 Scotty gets back and immediately gives his engines “a big, sloppy, kiss”

p256 Kirk notes Spock being nervous and calling him “Jim” on the bridge when they think they all might die

p263 Spock’s shaken by feeling fear for the first time, Kirk goes to his quarters to privately support him

#tos #novels #yeakas #james t kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #nyota uhura #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #christine chapel #montgomery scott #new aliens #the three-minute universe #the three minute universe #barbara paul #yeaka's favourites

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TNG Novel #40: Possession

TNG #40: Possession by J.M. Dillard and Kathleen O’Malley Book Jacket’s Summary:      “Eighty years ago, bodiless entities brought a plague of violence and bloodshed to the planet Vulcan. The nightmare only ended when the entities were trapped inside special containers.      Now, on the eve of a galaxy-scale scientific exposition, the containers have been opened, freeing the malevolent entities to possess the minds and bodies of all they encounter, including the crew of the Starship Enterprise. Friends turn into foes, and no one can be trusted, as Captain Picard faces a deadly and insidious threat. Unless the entities can be stopped once more, they will spread their madness throughout the entire Federation.” Yeaka’s Notes:      This is the TNG successor to TOS: Demons, but you don’t need to read that first, as this book never mentions it. Like Demons, Possession is a dark story of infection, but unlike its prequel, it isn’t completely violent chaos—the possessing demons have since learned to better control their hosts and mask their infection. The vast majority is just different crewmembers slowly infecting one another and laying low in the hopes of universal control. Throughout this, they never go for Deanna, whose empathic torment they feed off of instead. Deanna tries to warn Picard, but, unfortunately, she’s brushed off. This is a problem—there are several instances where characters make poor decisions in regards to caution and safety. At times, it’s frustrating to read about characters being clueless for so long when the reader knows every awful thing the villains are thinking. At least once enough people are aware of what’s going down, it becomes unpredictable and interesting.     The entire cast is around with various things to do, most notably Deanna, who can sense the trouble from the start. She’s also haunted by the image of Lwaxana trying to protect her. Worf is also in the thick of things, whilst looking out for Alexander and starting up a romance with a complex human scientist. Geordi’s VISOR becomes important, and Data’s artificial immunity is a saving grace. Beverly tries to keep on top of things. Riker guards the ship and goes out of his way to protect Deanna. Picard has a few intriguing parallels to his experience with the Borg that mix up the usual infection’s repetition. Guinan, luckily for her, is off at a ‘religious retreat’—aka a bartender’s convention. There’s also a healthy dose of Vulcans and two Ferengi at the beginning. There aren’t many answers about the entities involved in both this and Demons, but after all the trouble they’ve caused, it seems acceptable just to be done with them. In the end, this is a decent read for anyone that wants a tense, low-key horror show aboard the starship Enterprise. Noteworthy moments: 

Ch1/p15 Deanna mediates a fight between Beverly and Picard

p21 Data asks Geordi if memorial services actually help, the fact that Data always seeks his opinion reassures Geordi of their friendship; Guinan’s off at a bartender’s convention on Andoria

p27 Escorted to an event by Riker, Worf, and Alexander, Deana teases, “It’s not often I have three handsome men escort me to a fair”; Worf’s touched when Alexander enjoys himself at the science fair, Worf flirts with a scientist

p33 Riker comforts Deanna and offers a movie and a backrub

p37 Geordi meets the inventor of his VISOR

Ch3/p89 Worf tenderly tucks Alexander in, remembering his father doing so for him when he would seem asleep, and thinks of how much he loves Alexander; a woman invites herself into his quarters, clearly interested, and it makes him feel slightly guilty for “cheating” on K’Ehleyr’s memory

p100 Riker comes to Deanna’s quarters at night, unwittingly saving her from a bad situation, he sleeps on her couch for emotional support

Ch4/p112 Riker wakes Deanna from a nightmare and comforts her

Epi/p276 Guinan at a science fair, she asks Deanna for the gossip from when she was gone 

#tos #novels #yeakas #vulcans #ferengi #jean-luc picard #william riker #deanna troi #beverly troi #worf #alexander rozhenko #geordi la forge #data #possession #j.m. dillard #kathleen o'malley

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TOS Novel #40: Timetrap

TOS #40: Timetrap by David Dvorkin Book Jacket’s Summary:      “In a remote area of Federation space, the Enterprise picks up an urgent distress signal – from a Klingon vessel! Tracking the S.O.S., the crew finds the Klingon cruiser Mauler, trapped in a dimensional storm of unprecedented power. Yet paradoxically, the ship refuses both the Enterprise's call and the offers of help.      Determined to discover what the Klingons are doing in Federation space, Kirk beams aboard their ship with a security team, just as the storm flares to its highest intensity. As the bridge crew watches in horror, Mauler vanishes from the Enterprise's viewscreen.      And James T. Kirk awakens... one hundred years in the future.” Yeaka’s Notes:     Timetrap is a short one by numbered Trek standards, and that’s probably due to the sparse writing and singular plotline. Long story short, Kirk’s bashed around in a spot of trouble—which he, the captain, beamed right into first—and then wakes up to a bunch of peaceful Klingons that tell him he’s one hundred years in the future. They claim that humans and Klingons made peace due to Kirk escorting an armada of “New Klingons” to Earth one hundred years ago. Kirk’s initially skeptical—but not nearly skeptical enough for an experienced Starfleet captain. The Klingons around him act pleasantly enough—most of the time—and Kirk falls utterly in love with one of them, initially struggling with her Klingon heritage but ultimately giving her complete trust. Meanwhile, Spock’s off mysteriously investigating things he won’t explain while the rest of the crew dislikes him. Spock’s particularly emotional here and constantly struggling to be more “Vulcan.” Bones pesters a bit, Uhura gets hurt, and Scotty conducts repairs. There are a few side characters that crop up which, at first, don’t seem to be there for any reason, but it all makes sense in the end.     That ending is satisfying; there’s a good reveal, although it’s not difficult to see coming. Because it goes out on a high, this does feel fun, and it has its moments—lots of references to other Trek books and episodes, for example; it mostly takes place in Tholian space. But there are also drawbacks—the Klingons, even in the end, feel more like Romulans, Kirk is rather foolish, and a few minor things like English being the Federation’s preferred language and several old national stereotypes. But it’s short and easy, so worth picking up if you want some of that old-school TOS vibe and can overlook some problems. Noteworthy moments: (below cut)

Ch1/p11 Kirk observes how exhausted his crew is and forlornly thinks of a desk job

Ch2/p26 In charge and dealing with Bones’ pestering, Spock wishes he could speak empathetically like Kirk, Bones degradingly berates him when he won’t take the heavily damaged Enterprise to a faster warp to Starbase Seventeen’s medical facilities

p28 “Truly, conversations with Leonard McCoy had the evil effect of strengthening his human side and weakening his Vulcan.”

Ch4/p44 Kirk’s assigned a Klingon tutor and is bothered by being attracted to her (this continues for a bit until he becomes utterly infatuated with her)

p48 Kirk talks about his brother and nephew, Peter’s now a research biologist, Kirk talks about his ancestry

Ch5/p56 An English and Spanish couple visit a disaster zone in England and spot Americans (there are several moments of national stereotypes despite the timeline; for example, a character’s questionable medical behaviour is dismissed because “he’s an Englishman”)

Ch7/p77 Spock now in charge, Scotty goes over Enterprise repairs and upgrades with him, Spock needs to go to Earth and leave Scotty in charge of the Enterprise

Ch9/p98 A Starfleet Admiral berates Spock for taking advantage of the special leeway he and Kirk are often given

Ch20/p216 Bones and Spock banter at Kirk’s bedside in sickbay; Spock mind-melds with a troubled Klingon

#tos #novels #yeakas #klingons #james t kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #timetrap #david dvorkin

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TOS Novel #37: Bloodthirst

TOS #37: Bloodthirst by J.M. Dillard Book Jacket’s Summary:      “A class one medical emergency summons the Enterprise to the Federation outpost Tanis. There, a grisly surprise awaits them. Two of the lab's three researchers are dead, their bodies entirely drained of blood. There are no clues. No records of their research. No remnants of their work.      There is only the outpost's sole survivor, Dr. Jeffrey Adams. A man with a secret that will rock the very foundations of Starfleet... and a terrible, all-consuming hunger that will bring death to the crew of the starship Enterprise.” Yeaka’s Notes:     As you might’ve guessed from the title and summary, this is a pseudo-vampire novel, not with aliens as you might expect, but Federation bio-warfare. And in case that summary didn’t tip you off, this one is dark. It has very little of the cheesiness of TOS or the comic nature of knock-off vampires, but tells a very gritty, bloody story of murder and disease. Several characters die, and others, like Christine Chapel, come very close. Kirk loses a dear friend and Bones spends a good chunk grieving, with the others only peripherally mentioned and worrying. Mostly, Kirk, Spock, and Bones try to solve a murder mystery whilst surviving a plague onboard the Enterprise and maybe a conspiracy within the Fleet itself.     Despite the depressing nature of the story, it’s a good read for those that can stomach that; the writing is deep and compelling. There are many original characters, several of which are holdovers from other books (especially Mindshadow and Demons), and all are thoroughly fleshed out and worth following. One new one is an Andorian ensign dealing with her own family troubles and cultural sexism, another a human man with a troubled past and a sexual eye—but one that stops just short of creepy, more so just realistic. For a space story, most of this is strangely plausible. That’s probably part of what makes its darkness so disturbing.     If you like that sort of thing—borderline horror stories with corrupt governments and hardened heroes—this is definitely one to pick up. Noteworthy moments: (below cut, spoilers) 

Ch1/p6 Bones beams down in the dark for an away mission on Halloween

p15 At lunch with Bones and Kirk, Spock explains vampires to Jim and asks if he’d also like to know about Santa Claus

Ch2/p22 Kirk coms José Mendez’s brother (TOS: “The Menagerie”) 

Ch3/p43 Bones gets stuck, ensigns rescue him

p48 An Andorian ensign woman new to the Enterprise

p53 Chapel tends to a vampiric patient and falls for a cheap trap

Ch4/p65 Kirk has an admiral friend who’s always trying to get Kirk to loosen up, which Kirk resists, he tells Kirk never to take a boring desk job

Ch5/74 Bones attends to Chapel in isolation and jokes he should’ve sent Spock in to cheer her up

Ch6/83 Spock ponders katras but doesn’t want to tell Kirk of them lest it be dismissed as Vulcan mysticism

Ch7/p108 M’Benga treats a drunk Andorian

Ch8/p124 Coming to ask for a favour, Spock corrects Bones’ grammar

Ch9/131 Broken up over her illness, Bones reflects on how much he loves Chapel (platonically)

p137 Sulu and Chekov gossip about the plot they’ve missed and Chekov’s “wampire” stories

Ch11/p166 Bones remembers drinking alone in his quarters with Chapel when he first came aboard, thinking her attractive and being terrified so drinking more until he realized she was just as resistant to romance because of her engagement (TOS “What Are Little Girls Made Of?”) they talked as friends about past hurt and her interactions with Spock in various TOS episodes

p169 Spock visits as Bones, crying, takes Chapel off life support, Bones asks Spock to come in and support him

Ch13/p197 Chekov tells the bridge Chapel’s a vampire now

Ch15/p226 Sub-commander Khaefv (presumably the one from TOS “Balance of Terror” for the reference to looking like Sarek)

Epilogue/p260 Bones brings Kirk Saurian brandy on his birthday and notes a package he jokes is cookies from Kirk’s mom, they toast to his late friend

#tos #novels #yeakas #james t kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #christine chapel #geoffrey m'benga #nyota uhura #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov #andorians #romulans #bloodthirst #jm dillard