#(getting mad at the randomiser again)

[daemon-in-my-head]

My most delusional take yet; Gortash didn't want to kill Durge after they betrayed him/blew his Foundry and Throne to bit. Hear me out

I've talked about the belladonna in Flymms Kitchen before, but to those who r new here: next to the pots and pans in Sally and Dravos (urgh) kitchen is belladonna. It's not a randomised lootable item it's always there. So using environmental storytelling, they probably attempted to poison Gortash (would make sense given he has a lot of antitoxin and pots stored in his quarters and the scrapbook chest, yk which one). And well, Gortash being Gortash, that man most likely knew what was going on (hence why he also has the antidotes stored), but he still did nothing besides tadpoling them. They're still alive. After attempting to kill him. They don't have a free will anymore but they are very much breathing.

And, once again, perhaps my own delulu, but Durge holds a similar position in comparison to them, given how much Gortash yaps about Durge even in his notes and how u find hints for their very amicable rs everywhere in their respective environs.

Which leads me to believe, he didn't actually intend to kill Durge. Beat them up till their close to death? Yes. But not actually finish the job. Perhaps cuz of that man's glaring abandonment issues but it would also allow him to be that gracious bigger person and hero again. 'Yes you tried to kill and ruin me but here look at me, I'm willing to forgive you if u surrender now after just a little beating.'

He takes back Durge no matter what happened in the temple. He doesn't care if they're mad or not. He doesn't even care if the same person's still in that body (sup failed durge). And while definitely petty and bratty, I don't think he'd throw everything away cuz Durge ruined smth of his yet again. Like ofc he's still malding and getting revenge, that's only proper, but he'd come up with a way to keep em around after being so delighted he found em again.

Except, Banes a bitch and the flaw in Mr. Masterminds grandiose plan.

Gortash is the only Chosen who doesn't pray to his patron. He didn't call for Bane to support him, Bane just swoops in and takes control of Gortash and won't give up on that control until one of em is dead. If that God had stayed put, I'm p sure the whole confrontation would've ended differently.

[bigbrotherwizard101]

IT'S TIME FOR THE POWER OF VETO COMPETITION!

PONYO, CHROMA, DAWIT, DRAGO, JINX AND HAYLEIGH WILL BE COMPETING IN THIS COMPETITION. Now that you have experienced the advantages of Storm magic, it is now time that you become aware of the burden that you must carry when thrown into the powerful madness of the school of storm. With the help of your Professor Mandos you will see just how easy it is for a storm magic user to get lost in a maze of their own thoughts which leaves them paralysed when the thing they are actually looking for may be just in reach after all. Today you will be playing HIDDEN ENCHANTMENT

HERES HOW IT WORKS:

The EBB hide and go veto server has been set up with 25 different channels. Each veto player has chosen one channel to hide their veto chip in, we asked you all to choose a channel as well as the message number you would like to hide it in, between 1-50. Each channel has since then been spammed with 50 images, one of those images will include your veto chip within it depending on the number you chose. Please note only the veto players will have their veto chips hidden.

Once the server is set up with everyones veto chips hidden, you will all be added to the server where you can start looking, one by one. (We will randomise the order that you will search in.)

You will not be able to see any of the channels at first other than a general channel and your own personal channel for correspondence regarding the challenge.

When it is your turn, you will be given a role to make all of the channels visible and one minute to search through them.

If you find someone else’s veto chip you may screenshot it and send it to your challenge chat. You may only find one person’s chip during your turn.

Once your minute is up the role will be taken away and you must wait until your turn comes around again.

Once someone’s veto chip has been found, they are eliminated from the competition and are not eligible to search anymore. It will be announced once someone’s chip has been found.

This challenge is originally aimed to be semi live so everyone takes turns one after the other and you don't have to keep looking once you're already eliminated BUT if the challenge is moving too slow or any of the players would prefer it, we have a ALTERNATIVE non live way to run this comp (it's just less fun). You do NOT all have to be constantly online for the semi live version but it does go faster that way!

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DISCUSS THIS CHALLENGE IN ANY CAPACITY TO ANY OF YOUR FELLOW HOUSEGUESTS! If i suspect you have you will be immediately disqualified and will receive a strike!

THE LAST PLAYER WHO’S CHIP IS FOUND WILL WIN THE POWER OF VETO!

ALTERNATIVE HIDE AND GO VETO VERSION

When you are ready to run the comp ping a host in your player chat in the extra server and you will be given access to all the channels where you must find every single veto chip and send each, one by one the second you do.

Time will be calculated once everyone is done and based on the order of veto chips found and when they were found, an elimination order will be determined and the winner will be the person who's veto chip was found last by someone who wasn't already eliminated beforehand.

If you have any time restrictions that make you believe the non live version would be more optimal please ping comp hosts and let us know immediately! I do encourage you try to make the semi live version work if at all possible because it's a lot more fun and less effort for those who get eliminated before others!!

THIS COMP WILL BE CONCLUDED NO LATER THAN 8PM EST TOMORROW!

[caesarflickermans]

Plutarch is a highly fascinating character whose appearance in the books is leaving a lot to the imagination. We aren't ever really given an answer on the question and while the movies offer us more hints, it's still a rather interesting topic.

Personally, I think Plutarch had multiple escape plans that all dependent on who Katniss was with at a given point. It seems too easy and too randomised that she happens to choose the right people. Much rather, it is likely that the plan would have altered, albeit remained with the same end result of escape, had Katniss partnered up with, say, District 11.

There's one particular hint toward this theory, namely the fact that the original plan for the day of rescue was at four days when Katniss and Peeta had been teamed up with Finnick (communicated through the bread messages) and changed to three days right after Johanna, Beetee and Wiress joined.

Plutarch is way too well prepared throughout Mockingjay for him to leave the arena at such chance.

I also want to point out the question how much the destruction of the forcefield was truly needed or whether it was merely a TV-ready symbolism reminiscent of Haymitch's Quarter Quell as well as, and more importantly, a literal destruction of the Hunger Games and its oppressive system aired to everyone within Panem. We know that hovercrafts can come and go without a problem, and while they might be instructed by Gamemakers in the Capitol, it remains an interesting food for thought in how much it was needed and how much it was meant as a spectacle.

Alternative plans aside, I also thoroughly enjoy the Catching Fire film scene with the spinning Cornucopia and want to point to Plutarch falsely alleging to doing this to prevent the victors from being able to read the time. However, he decides to stop the cornucopia from spinning right when Katniss falls into the water. While this is not book canon, I find it highly interesting that, overall, Katniss' time in the arena was usually accompanied by people who were fully there to protect her, and in the moment where they could not, Plutarch stepped in. It might be the only time we truly got to see this, but I take it that, had Katniss been in danger once more, he would have protected her again. As a Head Gamemaker, who is to stop him? Snow would want to see Katniss die in a meaningful way, and everyone in the Gamemaking room works under Plutarch.

I also want to engage a bit in the other discussion you have shared, namely that of Plutarch's allegiance. While I have my own headcanons as mentioned in this fanfiction, we have learned about Plutarch's motivation especially through interviews and know the following:

He has been plotting behind the scenes at least since Finnick's Games, as Finnick has been considered a spearhead for the rebellion. It is highly likely that professionalised structures already existed at this point, and thus make it likely that the Capitol underground movement has existed for well over ten years, if not twenty(five).

Plutarch has decided that the Games are "unnecessary" at some point in his life.

He has seen other people around him be killed, and he does not believe that fearing the "mad king" is a good way to live.

He is the only person in the trilogy who has history knowledge and uses that to share ideas of democracy. While he has a fairly low opinion of humans, he does not rule out that this time they might get through.

I mainly aim at contesting ideas whereupon Plutarch seemingly jumps on a trend and aims at keeping his high-ranking profile in the next country. Aside the fact that his allegiance didn't change quickly, it seems rather counterintuitive to risk one's wellbeing for likely well over a decade to pursue an idea that was impossible at the time it was conceptualised. If we look at historic examples of professional bootlickers, say, Kremlin advisors, it seems a far easier and comfortable life to simple stay put and remain a Yes-sayer.

This is not to say that Plutarch wasn't selfish; of course he is interested in his own wellbeing, but he seems more like an idealist who wants to bring about the political system he believes in. If he was purely selfish, he would have retired and never shown his face again. The risk involved might be a selfish joy, but I do not think that we can label Plutarch as more selfish than the average person living under such conditions, especially when the usual consensus is to keep one's head bowed down and not look right or left.

My own ideas extend further beyond what we are given within the timeline, and plenty of them are to be found within the fanfiction. I've decided to give Plutarch a personal motivation through the death of a family member, as well as extend his history knowledge and the "challenge" aspect Collins mentioned by making him a believer in the democratic systems and theories of the past, and wanting to see them come true for his country as well.

✺THG Series Exploration: Catching Fire✺

26: We see small glimpses of what it means to be a Gamemaker in Catching Fire. We learn about Plutarch Heavensbee and his espionage as a double agent.

We also get to speculate what's happening in the Capitol during these Games since there really isn't a perspective outside of the Arena. The movies do an awesome job of showing moments between Snow and Plutarch that feel so canon.

So, let's blog, post and share our Plutarch Heavensbee and Snow thoughts during this time in Catching Fire. Tag your posts with explorethg!

[ehbeeseedih]

Lost a bet - positions

Prompt:

So you lost a bet and posted that you wanted to try out some sex positions and were looking for volunteers. As soon as you were allowed, you were going to go delete it, but then you looked at the replies. Who said they wanted to do each one with you?

How it works:

Go to “Random.org”.

Click on “Lists & More” and then “Lists Randomised”.

Enter the names of 18+ people/characters.

Use the first 10 to find out who volunteered for each one.

PS: This is my first time posting on tumblr so the sizes of things, font and all those kinda things might be a little wacky, but I’ll try to fix it afterwards. 

You can check out my other stories at AFF.  Now, enjoy reading 10 bad smuts to fulfill your daily bad smuts quota.  

Oh yeah nearly forgot, thanks to @existslikepristin​ for the tag.

Rosé - Missionary

“Everything I need is on the ground.” 

The music ends, the ending pose done, everyone claps. Today is the last day of practice before Rosé’s solo debut tomorrow afternoon. 

You went to the showers in the dance studio after debriefing. A cold shower does wonders for relieving body ache after intense practice sessions. 

As you prepared to leave the studio, you saw Rosé still practicing by herself, wearing the tight short skirt outfit she’s about to perform in tomorrow. 

Rosé bent forward as the music reached the chorus, her safety shorts failed to adequately cover up her butt cheeks as they came into your view. Your pants abruptly got tight at the sight. 

You desperately try to divert your attention as Rosé caught you staring at her. Instead of calling  you out about it, she began twerking harder, letting her plump butt freely bounce in front of you. 

“Like what you’re seeing?”

“Yes…..” You shyly replied

“Well I could use some releasing, haven’t had a cock for a while.” 

She lowered her skirt and panties in a single stroke, “How you like that?” 

“Huh?”

“I mean how would you like to fuck me?” 

“Missionary please, I’d like to see your face.” 

She lays down on the floor and spreads her legs wide, “Vanilla huh, I like it. I’m already on the ground, what are you waiting for?” 

You’ve finally realised the true meaning of “Everything I need is on the ground”. Let’s just hope that both of you won’t be too tired to perform tomorrow. 

Doggy - IU

Having a bubbly and needy girlfriend like Jieun can be both a blessing and a curse. 

The blessing, a very fulfilling sex life, anytime and anywhere. 

The curse, it’s hard to reject her when she wants them but you don’t. Her aegyos and delicate moans were like cheat codes that made you do whatever she told you to. 

In the present, you’re faced with two very major problems you had to deal with. On one hand, you had a report and 2 proposal you needed to turn in by tomorrow

On the other hand, you had a needy girlfriend who’s willing to do anything to get you to fuck her. 

Jieun had been doing everything she could to get you off work and pay attention to her. She started with strip tease, lap dance, progressing to slowly jerking you off and giving you a messy blowjob. 

You had nearly given up, a few moans escaped your mouth, but in the end you were still working, and Jieun was also still working. She released your cock from her mouth and went to the bed.

Immediately, you heard sounds of wet flesh and Jieun’s soft moans. 

“Ahhhh, why are you still working? You could be here balls deep in me. Ahhhhh, it would be better if it’s your giant cock inside me instead of my slim finger.” 

That nearly tempted you off. Your cock was growing hard again, your hand slowly stroking it along to the beat of Jieun’s moans. 

“Look at me!” She shouted. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have looked. The moment you turn your head, there is no going back.

Jieun was on all fours, her fingers in her pussy slowly pumping off. 

“Come fuck your little slut. Look at how wet I am for you.” 

Magnetized by her pussy, you gave up work and went over and grabbed her hips.

“You nasty little slut, distracting me from doing actual work. Now let me punish you.” 

“Oh yeah, punish your little slut. Fill her with your cum and send her to heaven.”

Suffice to say your bosses were not impressed when you said you had to take care of your pet yesterday and couldn’t finish your work.  

Cow girl - Jessica

Why are you in a 5 star hotel again? Oh yeah, you were at a family gathering with your wife Jessica. 

But why does she look so mad? Did you piss her off doing something stupid again? 

“Do you know why I’m mad right now?”

“No……” A ringing slap on your left cheek. 

“Please explain why were you fucking my sister during the family gathering?” 

Oh yeah, now you remember. Krystal was seducing you during dinner, which ended up with you getting caught by Jessica while cumming inside Krystal in their family house bathroom. 

“Well……. Krystal was seducing me, and you did say it’s ok to touch your sister right?” A ringing slap on your right cheek. 

“I said only when I’m not available. I was prepared to give you a surprise but you decided to be a bad boy.” 

Jessica took off her bathrobe and revealed the red lacy lingerie underneath it. 

Red - the ultimate colour of seduction. Jessica certainly knew how to get you fired up. Luckily for you, you too knew how to get her fired up. 

Hug her hips, hand on her butt, face in front of her pussy “I’m sorry mommy, I have been a bad boy, please forgive me.” 

“Ahhhh” Jessica moaned and pushed you down onto the bed hard. “You’ve been a really bad boy. Now let me ride you.” 

“Yes. Please mommy.” 

69 - Miyeon

“Hey Miyeon, look at me! I’m sliding down the slide upside down.” 

She ignored you. 

Miyeon had been acting all weird today. Like she was pretty weird normally but today even more so. 

She told you she wanted to do something fun today, and then she brought you out to a playground in the middle of nowhere. 

Was she going through nostalgia and wanted to relive her childhood? That doesn’t seem like it. She had been looking around scanning the area ever since you got here. What was she looking for, there’s nothing and no one in the vicinity. 

“Hey baby, what are you doing?” 

She approaches you with a smirk and grabs your crotch, gently rubbing it. 

“Baby, I told you I want to do something fun right. Let’s fuck right here. Nobody is watching.”

“What…….” Before you could speak, Miyeon had unzipped your pants and started sucking your already hard cock.

“Can you at least let me sit upright first?” 

“No, 69 is part of the fun. Now shut up and eat my pussy.” 

“You’re one kinky girl Miyeon.” 

Downward dog - Shuhua

You loved your job as a yoga instructor, and having your classes famous among idols is a huge reason for it.

It started out with Yerin and your extra sessions. Apparently she liked it so much that she introduced Joy to join your extra sessions too.

Since then, idols had been coming so frequently that you’ve had to space out the appointments as your body couldn’t keep up with the number of sessions. 

Last week it was Yves and Chuu and this week it will be Shuhua.

“Hi Shuhua, how are you feeling today?”

“Great, just a bit stiff. I’ll need some help with stretching later, maybe your pole can be handy.”

“Alright, do you want to start off slow or go straight to the extra sessions.” 

“Be fast please, I’m impatient.” 

“Alright then, let’s start off with the downward dog pose. Put your hand on the floor and raise your hips up.” 

“Good, looks like you have been following my advice and putting in extra work. Your thighs look very meaty.” 

“I’ve been doing a lot of leg work recently.” 

“I’ll message your butt and help you relax your muscles.” 

“It feels great, please don’t stop.” 

“What is this Shuhua, why is there a wet spot in between your thighs?” 

“Ahhh, don’t tease me please.” 

“Oh no, no panties. You’re a naughty student. Let me punish you.”

“Yes please, use your cock to help me stretch out my thigh pussy.” 

Side saddle - Yuju

Some come to the beach for the relieving feeling, some for the tan, some for the sea breeze. But you’re here for the bikinis and tiddies. 

Sitting under your beach umbrella, you can usually see a whole beach of beauties enjoying themselves. But not today. 

The beach is desolate today, not much to see. Just the occasional family with nothing impressive, not the usual group of eye candies. 

The weather is beginning to turn and you prepare to abort. Just as you’re about to leave, you spot a lady sporting a red bikini slowly approaching from afar, heading towards your direction.

As she nears, you observe her fit body, her abs and her beautiful appearance. 

“Hey, why are you here at the beach?”

“I came here for a walk. But it seems like the weather today is not cooperative.” 

“That’s unfortunate, maybe we can do something together to create some memories and remedy that.”

She scans your body. Instinctively, you flex up your abs.

“Alright, but we do it my way.”

She sits on top of your crotch which starts pumping up with blood. You scan around for one more time to ensure no one is watching.

While you scout, Yuju is busy relieving your cock from your pants and inserting it through her bikini bottom. 

She begins bouncing on you slowly. The cold winds contrasted with the interior warmth of her pussy, heightening the experience. 

Some come to the beach for the relieving feeling, some for the bikini and tiddies. But you’re here for the fuck. 

Throat Swab - Jiho

A rich heiress by the name of Jiho has recently come under your radar. Her mansion was outside of the town and she lives really lowkey. 

Made a rough survey of her mansion, it seems relatively lightly guarded given her wealth. No one except her servants went in and out of the mansion, not even Jiho herself had left the mansion throughout the few days. 

Clock struck 12, sneaked into the mansion from the back door without anyone noticing

Circling around the mansion, surprised by how empty it is inside given the luxurious exterior. The heiress living inside must be pretty lonely. 

Made your way to the master bedroom. Jiho sleeping elegantly in her princess themed bed. 

Tied her up on her bed with ropes

Ransacked her mansion, took away many valuables. Heard a loud scream from the master bedroom 

With lightning speed, headed to the source of the sound. Found Jiho struggling with her hands tied up

“What are you doing, let me go.” 

“Shut up you nasty bi*** “ Placed your palm on her face to quiet her.

Instead of resisting, Jiho surprisingly licked your palm in a circular motion, her eyes telling you of her desire

Stuck your fingers into her mouth and she dutifully sucked it with vigour.

“You’re a needy little slut I see. You’re being kidnapped and yet you’re sucking my fingers” 

“It has been a long time since I've seen a man. It’s natural to be needy.” 

Released her, knowing she won’t run away. Brought her to the edge of the bed with her head hanging from the bed. 

“I still need to keep you quiet, maybe I should stuff your mouth with my cock”

“Please fuck my mouth, please.” 

Pearly Gates - Arin

You’ve always thought Arin was the good girl type. The type that would be shy about sex. 

However, after a date started off with her sucking you off in the car, feet playing with your cock under the restaurant table, ass grinding on your crotch in an elevator and her hand guiding yours while touching her pussy in the cinema, you threw away all your dumb assumptions. 

After a libidinous date, you came home utterly exhausted and immediately fell into your bed. 

As you slowly dozed off to dreamland, Arin crashes on top of you, waking you up. 

Instinctively you moved your hand to embrace her whilst both of you gradually drifted into slumber. 

Your legs suddenly felt numb and a need to move them. Finding your legs trapped under Arin’s legs, the only way to move them was to spread out her legs.

Your legs slowly spreaded Arin’s legs out and you heard a barely audible moan from her. 

Arin turned around with a soft smile and raspy voice “You still got juice to try out a new position?” and began grinding her posterior on you to get you in the mood again.

You quickly moved to remove the bottoms for the both of you “What’s this new position you’re talking about?” 

“It’s called pearly gates, I learned it from reading a smut challenge.” 

She impaled herself on your cock from above as you felt her being more tight in this position 

The sex was great, and lucky for you Arin did not eat much for dinner.

Stand and Carry - Minju

“Ha, you suck at Mario Kart.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you won. What do you want?” 

“Carry me to the ice cream shop.” 

“Can’t you walk yourself? You’re heavy, you know.” Despite bickering, you willingly bent down and told Minju to get on your back. 

However, she refused and insisted on being carried on the front. 

Minju wrapped her legs around your waist and you felt her moist core pushed up against your crotch. 

“No panties?” 

“Shut up, just go.” 

You’re sure she already felt it but your cock was rock hard and bulging out after knowing your girlfriend’s kinky behavior. 

As you carried her towards the store, every little movement and vibration of a step caused your clothed bulge to rub against Minju’s bare pussy. 

Minju tried her best to hold back her moans but occasionally some slipped out which attracted the attention of people nearby. 

Not only do you have to deal with the weird glances from the passersby, but also your internal desire to fuck Minju then and there.  

At the last 100 meters, Minju’s soft moans suddenly became a deep groan, her whole body gripped on yours as she orgasms. A gush of fluid wettens your pants on the crotch area. 

Just as Minju recovered from her bliss, you spotted an empty alley and headed there. 

Making quick work of your pants with Minju still hanging on you, you swiftly inserted your cock into her drenched pussy. 

Guess she won’t have a clean skirt to go home with. 

Spooning - Taeyeon

*This one is a little long

After watching Aladdin at the cinema, you headed home alone. 

Windy, starry night, with roads empty due to the cold weather. You enjoyed this lonely feeling, it was what you’re used to after all. It brought peace to your mind, away from the loneliness in your shack, away from the judging eyes of society. 

All was good until a shady looking fella approached from the opposite direction. He was carrying a big gunny bag behind him, panting. It must’ve been heavy. 

At first glance, you would’ve assumed him to be a murderer, carrying a fresh corpse behind him. 

He approaches you and tells you hastily “Do you want a body pillow? It has a really beautiful lady on it.”

Totally weirded out. “No thanks, I have no use for it.”

“Just take it, bye.” He dumped the bag onto you, the weight of the bag bringing you down to the ground. He’s nowhere to be seen after you stood back up, disappeared into the wind. 

Not wanting to be fined for random disposal of garbage, you carried the gunny bag home. The road home was an ascend, filled with potholes and untamed bushes, fitting for the blighted part of town you live in. Those combined with your fat figure made you pant the whole way home. 

You carried the gunny bag home and opened the thing inside. Well at least he wasn’t lying when he said it had a beautiful lady on it at least. 

Beauty is relative, but the woman on the pillow was undoubtedly a good view for the eye, especially when compared to your face which only your mum could love.

The day was a long one for you. You were prepared to go to bed by then. Instead of throwing it away, you just hugged the body pillow and went to sleep. 

Sleeping naked, you wanted to rub the magic lamp before sleeping, but ultimately decided against it. Whilst falling asleep, you subconsciously rubbed the body pillow a few times, its material comfy enough to not become trash. 

Suddenly a weird smoke came out from the body pillow followed by a bright glow of light. 

You were temporarily blinded but when you regained vision you saw a fine lady in front of you. 

“Hi, my name is Taeyeon. I’m genie for you boy. Tell me your wish”

“Damn, I must’ve been way too absorbed in the movie to be dreaming like this.” You thought. 

“You’re not dreaming sir, I will fulfill 3 wishes of yours” 

Remembering how your life had been a family friendly film without any adult action scenes, more Spongebob than Fifty Shades of Grey, you’re not going to miss the dance to rectify that. 

“Well you do look quite hot, it won’t hurt to have a wet dream. I wish to fuck you while hugging you.” 

“Your wish is granted, Sir” 

Taeyeon slowly removed her clothes, her perky breasts bouncing out of her bra, her removal of panties unveiled her cleanly shaven pussy, all illuminated by moonlight shining on her fair skin. 

She snuck into your embrace, which wasn’t the most comfortable position due to your bloated size, but it still worked. Grabbing your adorably sized cock, she impaled herself onto your cock and started moving. 

Your sexual awakening felt incredible, Taeyeon’s pussy was tightly squeezing your cock. You couldn’t go very deep, and you felt sad about it. 

“I wish for you to praise me.” 

“Your wish is granted, Sir” 

Taeyeon’s moans went from soft squeaks to loud groans, her movement increasing in pace.

“Yes Sir, you fill me up so good.” Even though you knew she was just fulfilling your wish, you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for the first time in your life. 

With the encouragement boost, you began to thrust your dormant hips into her, in unison with her thrusting down. 

“Sir, why are you growing bigger. Ahhh” 

You’re growing bigger, that’s good to know. Your banging grows in strength to the point of moving the bed with you. 

Your neighbours would look down on you even more but you didn’t care. For the first time in forever, you’re doing something you like and you won’t let others disturb you. 

“Hghhhh, I’m cumming Sir.”

“Me too. AHhhh, let’s cum together.” 

Together, something you weren’t particularly familiar with. The orgasm was great, the sex was great, but even better was doing it with someone who enjoyed and appreciated you. 

“One more round?” 

“Sorry but I’m too tired sir, you fucked me too good.”

“Thanks for saying that but you don’t need to flatter me.”

“No I mean it sir, you’re the best one I’ve had.” 

Warmth filled your insides, not only did your first sex didn’t go down the drain, she even praised you for being good. Your vision was becoming blurry, but you’re sure it was sweat flowing from your forehead. 

“Alright then, good night Taeyeon.”

“Good night Sir”

As you awaken the next morning, Taeyeon’s morning visuals stunned you. You haven’t had the chance to properly see how she looked but now that you did, she was gorgeous. 

At the same time, Taeyeon also woke up from her sleep. 

“Last night was incredible Sir. You were so good.” Her compliment made you replay the scene from yesterday. It had been a long time since anyone had said you’re good at anything. 

“That reminds me, you have one more wish Sir, please make the most out of it.”

“What will happen to you once I make my last wish? Will you just disappear? Will last night just be another sweet memory that I’ll forever replay in my mind?” Tears were beginning to form as you’re about to go back to the lonely dark self after experiencing how good things could’ve been. 

“Unfortunately. Yes Sir.” 

An idea suddenly struck you,  “What if I wish for you to stay with me forever?” 

“Your wish will always be fulfilled Sir.” 

“I wish for you to stay with me forever.” 

“Your wish is granted, Sir” 

With that, another burst of light blinded you and you’re left alone in your room again, back to square one. Why did you think that you could escape this lonely life destined for you?

One day as you’re going back home from another movie, you saw someone carrying a gunny bag.

The scene felt awfully familiar. You approached the person and realised it was a girl this time around.

“Hi, my name is Taeyeon. I’m from the Girls Generation Genie Team. We work to grant the wishes of all lonely kids in the area. Could you help me with this bag of supplies?” 

“Yes! Yes!” 

Maybe being a lonely kid wasn’t so bad afterall. 

A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope you’ve enjoyed it. Feel free to tell me anything wrong or where I still need to improve. 

[wewinbees]

in regards to all the issues with MCC 14 im gonna bring up how unspeakably scuffed MCC 7 (july) was. focusing on the SBI v DT issues, which to preface both teams were tryharding because they were told it would be the last time they were allowed to team (at least for a little while) and they both wanted to leave with a win.

purple - dream, george, sapnap and sylvie

orange - techno, wilbur, phil and seapeekay

battle box - this started off with horrible lag, to the extent that it was unplayable for some teams, but they didn’t reset it until like round 4 or 5. additionally, they paused it before they decided on a reset, and a tonne of teams started to accidentally team kill with the power-up TNT packages, including wilbur killing CPK and techno going >:/ eventually they reset the whole round to try fix the lag, voiding the points from the first half meaning some players did better than they would have and others did Notably worse, like dream’s team who lost against a lot of teams they’d beat in the first rounds.

side note, but MCC 7 battle box scares the hell out of me just because wilbur blew up 2 of their teammates later on in the new rounds bc of Miscommunication (he asked if it would get them extra points by TNTing them at the end bc he got some when he team-killed in the pause, and techno was talking to himself and said ‘yea’ at the same time about something else), made worse bc it was against purple and dream got the points (although Techno lived and placed the wool so they still won) and then they spent the rest of the rounds arguing, with BOTH OF THEM going D:< and phil had to tell them to shut up. either way, it worked out well for orange, winning 8-1 while purple suffered, only winning to 5-4 largely bc of the reset. either way the girls were fighting and Oh My God it freaks me out lmao

build mart! not exactly a broken bit or a glitch but i feel like it would be POORLY RECEIVED in this current mcyttwt climate. basically orange had always been infamously bad at build mart, coming 8th last tournament, and were strategising on how to win. the night before, wilbur offhandedly mentioned getting every block so they didn’t have to rush back and forth, but this was unrealistic because there were too many blocks. but local tryhard (affectionate) technoblade took this and RUN, watching 6 hours of footage across every MCC vod to make 4 shopping lists, divided into sections for each player to collect, that had the exact number of each block needed to complete any of the 26 possible builds, and they came 1st place as a result. the funniest thing is they would have done even better if the timer wasn’t reduced from 15mins to 12mins, which was probably done bc of their complaining. the really fun part about this is techno went to boast about it to dream at the end, telling him he’d went through all 26 builds, only for dream to interrupt him “there’s 27, actually” BECAUSE HE DID THE SAME THING HAHAH!!! at least something similar, including some strange Java programme? idk but their strategy didn’t work nearly as well, with their team coming in 6th (from 9th last tournament)

the real drama this time though, was audience takeover! this was the first MCC with serious issues around the takeover; before dream joined in MCC6, it was whatever techno chose, and since they both chose battle box for MCC 6 it didn’t make a difference. but this time they divided votes. dream wanted HITW and techno wanted rocket spleef. after a harsh twitter poll, HITW won with 47% to Rocket Spleef’s 43%. now at this point i think the way that voting worked was that there’s 50 NPCs in the dome, each representing 2% of the vote. but because of how many people voted and how close the polls had been, the system glitched and gave techno’s team the win in rocket spleef. THIS WENT DOWN AS POORLY AS YOU COULD IMAGINE WITH THE DREAM TEAM, who had never played rocket spleef before. the admins paused the game and tried to swap it over, but it was not in the code for them to actually be able to swap to a new game, so they had to just play on. as a result, Dream’s team fell by A Lot, and they got pretty mad about the whole situation, especially given the fact that battle box had already been reset at this point, so the fact that they couldn’t reset rocket spleef got them pretty mad, w dream genuinely threatening to log at one point

that’s the last of the Major scuffs, i think there were some minor bugs too, like an arrow pick-up glitching in dodgebolt that meant phil died (which was Unfortunate because they lost 2-3) but in the end of the day guess what!!? it doesn’t actually matter! because it’s a non-profit for-fun MINECRAFT tournament!! any streamer that gets toxic tends to immediately apologise, and the discovery of bugs and exploits helps them get patched to never happen again! the build mart block randomiser gets added, they changed the coding of the audience vote to be shiftable! and ‘let’s just play rocket spleef’ becomes a great reoccurring joke among the MCC community

the noxcrew are amazing game developers, and even the breakers myof games should be treated like fun because in the end of the day It Does Not Really Matter :) i know we’re all chill on tumblr but i just want to reinforce how good MCC is okay and i did it with this big long post about how scuffed it can be, but the important part is how it improves and how we as a community react

[eastertag]

Take A Chance On Me

@tsarinatorment gift for @singmetothesun

—

So, my person is @singmetothesun, who gave me some rather contradictory prompts, although I still tried to at least nod to all of them:

1. “TAG Scott & Alan with Dad!Scott because I love their relationship” - twisted a lot but I hope it still counts 2. “Anything 2004 Movieverse because it’s my fav universe 😇” - check! 3. “TAG Gordon - maybe whump, but my fav bean being a badass” - uhh… the spirit was there when I was writing?

Without further ado, here we go and I hope you like it!

—–

Thirteen.  Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon had all had their first flying lesson when they turned thirteen, but when it was Alan’s turn, Dad said no.

On a completely unrelated note, Scott is the world’s best big brother.

 It wasn’t fair.  He was thirteen now, but Dad still insisted on treating him like a child.  Alan had been looking forwards to spring break ever since his birthday, knowing that now he was thirteen he, like his brothers before him, would take his first steps towards flying a plane.

Flying a Thunderbird, and joining his brothers in the ranks of International Rescue.  One step closer to his dream, and he couldn’t wait.

Except…  Except Dad had said no.

No.

You’re still too young.

Once your grades improve.

There had also been a reminder about the chemistry accident that had got him expelled and shuffled over to Wharton’s, which Alan hated on so many levels.  The sole positive was at least none of his teachers were comparing him to his brothers anymore.  Even Fermat coming with him wasn’t a positive – not because he didn’t want his best friend with him, but because it meant new people for the smaller boy, new potential bullies, new people who didn’t look past the stutter to see how awesome he was.  He was glad he wasn’t alone, but he hated that he’d inflicted that on Fermat – all because his chemistry teacher had a grudge against Gordon that he’d imposed onto Alan.

It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t meant to explode the lab, but no-one believed him and now his Dad thought that meant he couldn’t handle a plane?  Alan wasn’t a baby any more, but there were tears of frustration in his eyes, running down his cheeks, dripping salt on his lips.

He’d already screamed himself hoarse at his bedroom door, and with another throaty yell, he snatched up the nearest object and hurtled it at the door, just as it started to open.

Lightning-fast reflexes caught his phone just before it smashed into his brother’s face.  Blue eyes widened at the projectile in his hand, before Scott pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“Hey, Al,” he said, nudging past the threshold despite Alan not saying he could.

“Not in the mood, Scott,” he retorted, looking away.  “Leave me alone.”

His eldest brother sighed.  “If that’s what you want,” he said, in a tone that clearly said he didn’t think Alan wanted that.  “But if I leave you now, there won’t be time.”

Despite knowing it was one of Scott’s tricks, Alan couldn’t help his curiosity.  “Time for what?” he asked, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the wall and nowhere near his invading brother.

“I organised a welcome home for you,” Scott told him.  “Do you want to come?”

Alan hadn’t grown up with four older brothers not to recognise scheming when he heard it.  If it was Gordon, he’d have thrown whatever else he could at him until he left, because it wouldn’t end well and Dad would get mad.  But Scott wasn’t like that.  Was he?

“Right now?”  It couldn’t wait until after he was over the betrayal of not getting the same privileges as his brothers?

“Now’s the only chance,” Scott said, an apologetic smile on his face.  “You don’t have to hang around for long if you don’t want to.  Just give it a go?”

Scott was still holding onto his phone.  Alan glanced at it, and then back at his brother.  He knew Scott was planning something, because having four older brothers meant he wasn’t stupid, but also… it was Scott.  Scott didn’t pick on him the same way their other brothers did.

Dad had let him down, but maybe he could still trust Scott.

With a great show of reluctance, he padded across the floor to where Scott was waiting, that smile still on his face.

“You’ll need shoes, Al,” he said.  “Not those.”

Alan glanced down at the crocs he was wearing, and then at Scott’s feet.  His brother was wearing boots, despite the rule of no boots indoors.

Seeing Scott break one of Dad’s nonsensical rules made Alan feel a little better, even if something bitter swelled in his chest.  If Scott got caught breaking rules, he’d just get told not to do it again.  Alan would get all his failures thrown straight in his face.

But Scott was telling him to.  Surely Scott wouldn’t let Dad yell at him if it was his fault?

Scott glanced at his watch, and Alan got the message.  Some weird time limit on welcoming him home, as though he hadn’t already had a welcome home from his family the moment he’d set foot on the island.

Still, Alan was curious enough to investigate, and kicked off his crocs before hunting down socks and his boots from where one had somehow slipped under his bed.  Scott stayed by the door, almost seeming like he was standing guard.  He kept glancing at his watch, and then down the hallway.  Either he was waiting for something… or he was hoping something wouldn’t happen.

Alan’s curiosity was peaked further.

“Well?” he demanded, tucking the laces in rather than tying them up in the interest of time.  Blue eyes zeroed in on the action and Scott rolled his eyes.  It did, however, get him away from the door as he crouched down to tie Alan’s boots properly, like he was five again.  “Scott, I thought you were in a hurry?”

“Hurrying won’t get us anywhere if you trip up,” Scott reprimanded lightly, tying the laces in perfectly neat, symmetrical bows.  Alan had never understood how he did that.  “There you go.”  He straightened, and with a grin that looked almost like it belonged on Gordon’s face – almost – he headed for the door.  “Come on, then.”

Still curious what Scott was planning, and not willing to be caught wearing the boots without his brother there to take the blame, Alan darted to join him.

“What’s the hurry, anyway?” he asked.  Scott glanced at his watch again.

“Dad’s in a meeting,” he said, voice just a little quieter than normal.

It didn’t take Alan long to connect the dots.

“We’re dodging Dad?” he asked, voice maybe a little too loud, judging by the way Scott shh’d him.

His brother didn’t reply, but he grinned a little wider and Alan relaxed.  If it was something Dad wouldn’t be happy about…  Well, at least Scott wouldn’t sell him out.

Scott led them down familiar hallways, and then stopped at an even more familiar doorway.  The no entry, Alan if I catch you in here without me you’ll be grounded until you’re twenty one doorway.  Alan watched him glance around – no-one was there – before he keyed a number into the pad.

He didn’t hide it from Alan.  Dad always made him look away, but Scott just punched it in as though there was nothing to hide.  Naturally, Alan watched and memorised it.  It was randomised – no meaning that he could discern – but he’d always had a good memory.  Once was enough.

Shouldn’t Scott know that?

The door opened, and Scott stepped through, beckoning for him to follow.  The thrill of disobeying Dad – and the safety net of a big brother to pin the blame on if Dad found out – found him bounding in immediately, straight into the elevator down to the hangars.

Not just any hangars.  The Thunderbird hangars.

Alan had never been down there without Dad gripping his shoulder in a vice-like grip.  Scott kept his hands to himself.

“Before we get there, I need you to promise two things, Alan.”

He looked up at his brother, who was regarding him with a serious expression.  Considering where they were going, Alan would promise anything to get there.

“What?” he asked, just to be sure Scott wasn’t pulling his leg.

“Number one – don’t tell Dad about any of this.”

Dad would yell and be furious if he found out.  Alan had no problems promising that.  “And the other?”

“Don’t come here without me.”

The elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the locked door of a silo.

Thunderbird One’s silo.

Alan had never been in Thunderbird One’s silo.  Dad always deemed it too dangerous whenever he asked.  When you’re older.

“Alan.”

He looked away from the door, its small viewing window showing the same silver he’d seen countless times erupting from the pool, but never this close.  Scott’s blue eyes had lost all their humour and were looking at him with nothing but seriousness.

Alan wasn’t a kid anymore.  He understood.  If Dad ever caught him in here…  The shouting match from earlier would be nothing.  Scott would get in trouble, too.  Big trouble.  He was taking a risk.  For him.

To cheer him up, he realised.

Sure, he didn’t always get on with his brothers, and Scott was almost twice his age – an age gap dramatic enough that he didn’t understand him all the time – but he still loved them.  Even if they had an annoying habit of picking on him because he was the youngest.  He’d still never loved Scott quite like this before.

“I promise,” he said, solemn and serious to match his brother because this?  This was huge.

Scott smiled at him, and Alan watched breathlessly as he punched in the access code.  Again, not bothering to try and hide it, and now Alan knew – it wasn’t that Scott didn’t know he’d memorise it, Scott trusted him with the knowledge.

Scott was treating him like an adult.

The door slid open, and Scott stepped in.

“Watch your step,” he said.  “It’s a long way down.”

Alan followed, and glanced down.  The mesh gantry floor beneath his feet was suspended far, far in the air.  Beneath him, he could see those white letters.  Thunderbird 1.  The T was as big as he was.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

His gaze snapped to Scott, who was watching him with something Alan would call nervousness if it wasn’t Scott.  His hand was resting on the silver hull of the jet, a soft caress Alan didn’t need to see to know how much his brother loved his Thunderbird.

Maybe he was a little nervous as he waited for Alan’s first impressions.  His judgement of the plane his brother loved so much.

Alan had always loved Thunderbird One.  Maybe it was because she was the one he saw launch the most – right in front of the villa, impossible to miss.  Maybe it was her speed, the roar she made as she vanished in the blink of an eye.  Maybe it was just that little flash of red at her nose.  It wasn’t so little now he was standing on the gantry and it towered above him, at least the height of the brother still standing there, still touching his Thunderbird with a love he’d only ever seen aimed towards family.

“Wow,” was all he could manage.  Scott smiled, clearly delighted with his simple, one-word response.

“I can’t teach you to pilot a plane,” he said, an apologetic note in his voice.  “I can’t take that from Dad.”

Alan scowled, not liking the sudden reminder of the argument, how Dad had told him he wasn’t good enough to learn even though the rest of his brothers all got to learn aged thirteen – even Gordon, who barely cared about anything that wasn’t aquatic – but then Scott kept talking and his jaw dropped to the floor.

“But I can teach you to pilot a Thunderbird.  What do you say, Al?”

What did he say?  What could he say to that?  Scott…  Scott-  Was Scott offering to teach him to pilot Thunderbird One?

His mouth opened but no sound came out.  Scott laughed and moved forwards, hand dropping from Thunderbird One’s hull and instead finding its way onto Alan’s shoulder.

“Well?” he asked, and he was smiling like he was the happiest man in the world.

Alan tried again.  His voice squeaked and he flushed red as words he didn’t mean to say tumbled out.  “Isn’t she yours, though?”

He wanted to swallow them back straight away.  He was supposed to be saying yes, not giving Scott reasons to change his mind!

Scott chuckled.

“Of course she’s mine,” he said.  “But we all know how to operate each others’ ‘birds, Al.  You’ll need to know them all, too.”

He said it simply, as though it was a plain fact of life.  One day Alan would need to know how to operate all the Thunderbirds.  One day Alan would be a Thunderbird.

Scott was still smiling at him.  Dad might be saying no but Scott was saying yes and Alan knew Dad’s word was final, but if Scott was so sure…

Alan knew enough about the command structure of International Rescue to know Scott was second in command, and maybe he’d secretly accused his biggest brother of being a rule stickler and a suck-up because he always seemed to do whatever Dad said anyway, but this wasn’t obeying Dad.

If Scott could teach him to pilot Thunderbird One without Dad’s permission, then maybe, one day, Scott could bring him into International Rescue anyway.

“Come on,” his brother said, and Alan’s eyes widened as a panel moved aside, revealing the interior of Thunderbird One.

He’d never seen it before.  Despite the windows surrounding the cockpit, her launch speed never gave him a chance to peer inside, and even if he happened to catch Scott landing again, it was pretty difficult to make out the interior.

There were four seats.  Pilot, co-pilot, and two passenger behind.  Scott slipped inside first, gripping onto hand-holds and stepping on struts until he was in the far seat.  From what Alan knew of planes, that was the- the co-pilot’s seat.

Why was Scott in the co-pilot’s seat of his own Thunderbird?

He edged cautiously over to the Thunderbird, reaching out tentatively to touch her hull.  Part of him was sure he had to be dreaming, that there was nothing there and he’d wake up the moment he tried to make contact.

The rest of him met Scott’s eyes, his brother’s matching blue full of encouragement, and with a deep breath he made contact.

He didn’t wake up.  Dad didn’t appear out of nowhere and start yelling.  His fingers didn’t slip through.

The metal was cool, confirmation that she hadn’t launched in a while.  Alan knew that, followed his brothers’ rescues with an avid enough obsession that he was gaining a reputation for it at school.  Thunderbird Three had responded to a manned satellite in distress yesterday, but it had been three days since Thunderbird One had last launched.

A hand reached for him, and he blinked.  Scott was leaning over, across the pilot’s seat and offering him his hand.

“Ready, Al?” he asked.  Alan eyed the hand, and then his brother.  Scott looked excited, and he realised his big brother was looking forward to teaching him.

He took the hand.

“Watch where you step,” Scott cautioned.  “See the bar by your right foot?”  Alan looked down and nodded.  “Step on it.”

One hand in Scott’s firm grip, and the other fumbling to catch the edge of the cockpit door, Alan obeyed.  Scott’s smile widened.

“Now the bar above your head,” he said, and step by step, Alan followed his instructions until he was sat in the seat.

It felt weird, but in a comfortable way.  Like laying on his bedroom floor but hooking his feet on his bed.

“Welcome to the best ‘bird in the fleet,” Scott said, and Alan could hear both the smugness that always accompanied his brothers’ insistences that their ‘bird was the best and the same love he’d seen in the caress.

One of his other brothers might make a quip then, and if Alan wasn’t so awestruck about finally being inside a Thunderbird, he would, too.  Something about there being too much blue for Thunderbird Three.

Instead, he sent his big brother the biggest grin he could muster, feeling moisture welling in the corners of his eyes.  If Scott noticed, he didn’t comment.

“The first lesson’s a bit boring, I’m afraid,” he said, and while he still sounded light-hearted, his face was a little more serious.  “But it’s necessary, so I need you to pay really close attention, okay?  We can’t move on until you’ve completely mastered it.”

There was more and more seriousness in his voice as he spoke, until the humour was all but gone, and Alan nodded his understanding.

He wasn’t a child anymore.  Whatever Scott had to teach him about piloting Thunderbird One – Thunderbird One! – it was important.

“Okay.”  Scott reached over to something above his head, and Alan craned his neck to see a solid blue harness that looked like it belonged on a roller coaster just before it swung down and locked in front of him.  “Safety features.”

Alan muffled his groan.  Scott had said it would be boring, but he’d still been hoping for something a little less mind-numbing.

Luckily, Scott wasn’t in such a serious mode that he couldn’t crack a small smile as he pulled his own harness down.

“I know,” he said, somewhat sympathetically.  “But we can’t rescue anyone if we get in trouble ourselves, so you’re going to have to learn this stuff until you don’t even have to think about it.”  His small smile widened into a grin.  “If you pay attention, it won’t take too long.”

And with those encouraging words, the lecture began.

There was a lot of safety rules.

Alan was also pretty sure Scott’s definition of won’t take too long was not the same as his, but despite it all being to do with safety, his big brother managed to at least make it interesting.  The knowledge that he wouldn’t let Alan do anything else – let alone start learning to actually pilot – until he learnt it all was also powerful motivation.

Halfway through an explanation on which rules changed depending on whether or not the sweep wings were extended, Scott’s communicator bleeped.  His brother cut off, and motioned for Alan to be quiet.

He held his breath, determined not to let a single sound out.

“Time’s up.”  Gordon was talking quietly, and hurriedly.  “The meeting ended early.”

Scott inhaled sharply, and Alan had to fight not to do the same.  The only meeting he knew of was Dad’s, and if that was over…  If Dad found them – him – in Thunderbird One-

“Distract him.”  There was an edge to Scott’s voice Alan hadn’t heard before.  It was a bit like his get out of the pool, Gordon voice, when he was pulling big brother rank to get a younger brother to obey, but wasn’t quite the same.  A little sharper.  Crisper.

He was throwing Gordon under the bus.  There was no way Gordon would-

“F.A.B.”

-obey that.

Gordon’s voice had been similar.  Serious in a way his immediate brother rarely was.

Professional.

The call ended as Alan reeled from the realisation those had been their International Rescue voices – Field Commander and Operative.  Dad had never let him near Command and Control, not for briefings, rescues or debriefs.  He’d never heard his brothers when they were in International Rescue mode.

Scott slithered around him, hands and feet finding the holds without seeming to even think about it, and then he was standing on the gantry, hands reaching for him.  “Sorry, Al,” he said.  “That’s all for today.”

With the safety lecture still ringing in his ears, Alan accepted the help back out of the Thunderbird.  He didn’t know how long Gordon could distract Dad for before he realised two of his sons were not where they should be, and just the thought of Dad finding out terrified him.

Scott’s fingers flew over a panel, and the entrance to the Thunderbird slid shut seamlessly.  His brother did a few more checks, presumably to make sure there was no sign of access, and then a hand was on his shoulder, nudging him out of the silo and back to the elevator.

“John, we’re out of the silo.”

“F.A.B.” his second-eldest brother said, all business – and that voice Alan did recognise, because it had interrupted his calls to John for homework help often enough.  There was a pause.  “All cleared.”

Some rigidness seemed to seep from Scott’s shoulder as the elevator rose, and Alan blinked as a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him snugly against his brother.

“Sorry about the abrupt ending,” Scott apologised.  “We’ll pick back up again next time, okay?”

Next time?

Alan squeaked, and Scott smiled widely.

“You didn’t think you were going to learn everything on one go, did you?” he asked, sounding amused.  “I can’t promise a schedule – we’ll have to work around whenever Dad’s too busy to notice – but you’ll learn to fly her, I promise.”

Words failed Alan, and there was that moisture in his eyes again, so he did the only thing he could think of and twisted in his brother’s hold until he could wrap his arms around Scott tightly enough his brother was forced to exhale a quiet oof.

Scott chuckled fondly, and Alan felt him return the hug.  “You’re welcome, Al.”

The elevator docked and Alan slithered out of his brother’s hold as the doors slid open, only to freeze at the sight awaiting them.

Virgil said nothing, and for one dreadful moment Alan feared that was it, Dad knew.  Then his brother winked at him, a grin breaking across his face.  As he tentatively followed Scott out, he saw that the hallway was otherwise clear.

Then there was a hand on his head, mussing up his perfectly styled hair, and he sent a glower at the culprit.  Virgil just grinned at him again, before looking over his head at Scott.

“Gordon says he can hold him five minutes,” he said.  “That was three minutes ago, so you’d better hurry.”

“F.A.B.” Scott replied.  “Come on, Al.  Let’s go.”

Alan let himself be led away, his brain spinning.  First Gordon, then John.  Now Virgil.  Were… were all his brothers in on it?

Had they planned it?

They arrived at his bedroom door before he could figure out a way to ask.

“Boots,” Scott muttered, nudging him into his room.  “And remember: don’t tell Dad, and not without me.”

Alan nodded his promise again, and watched as Scott darted off in the direction of his own room, presumably to take his own boots off.

He yanked his off, stuffing them back in the closet where they lived, before collapsing onto his bed.  Something dug into his hip, and he scrabbled at it until it was retrieved.

It was his phone, no doubt dropped there by Scott when he’d fussed over his laces.

Alan stared at it.  The temptation to tell Fermat what his brother – brothers – had done was strong, but while Scott hadn’t told him he shouldn’t… the more people that knew, the more likely Dad was to find out.  Besides, Fermat would be with Brains, and they were probably too busy talking geek to listen to him even if he tried.

And maybe Alan was looking forwards to the day he could surprise his best friend with the knowledge he could pilot Thunderbird One.

Scott kept his word.  Lessons were sporadic, lengths varying depending on how long Dad could be distracted for by either work or a combination of his brothers, but they kept happening as often as his brother seemed to be able to wrangle it.

By the end of Spring Break, he had a decent grasp of the basic controls.

Summer Break, and he successfully ran through the sims without a single mistake.  Scott had beamed with pride.  Virgil had made noises, and Alan had been introduced to Thunderbird Two.

Winter Break, and Gordon staked his own claim.  All the years of scuba diving at his brother’s insistence had paid off, and the thought crept into his head that his brothers had been prepping him for far longer than he’d realised.

Then came the Worst Spring Break Ever.

Alan had been angry – angry at his brothers, at his Dad, at anything and everything – and he’d broken his promise.  He’d gone to Thunderbird One without Scott, and from there, everything went wrong.

Too wrong to think about, but underneath it all was the underlying thank fuck that Scott had disobeyed Dad last year.  Thankfulness that his brothers had taught him to pilot their ‘birds, thankfulness that it meant the Hood didn’t get his way and kill all those people while sullying International Rescue’s name.  His family’s name.

But Dad had acknowledged him.  Him, and Fermat, and Tin-Tin.  The pin on his shirt was heavy, an unfamiliar weight he’d been waiting for for as long as he could remember.  A member of International Rescue.  Technically a trainee, but thanks to Scott and his other brothers he’d been an unofficial trainee for a year already.  Finally, Dad had let him in.

Alan had almost forgotten how it had all started, until after Lady Penelope had gone back home to England, citing something important or other that needed to be done.  Spy things.

Then Dad struck.

“Alan.”  He was familiar with that tone – too familiar.  That was disapproving Dad, in a very sudden change from the proud father he’d been enjoying in the hours earlier.  His brothers – all four of them, with John still rarely down on Earth – stilled where they’d been teasing each other.  They knew the tone, too.

Alan had become used to Scott’s presence, and didn’t need to look to know his biggest brother had positioned himself just behind him in silent support.  He didn’t lean into him, but the temptation was there.

“You never told me how you knew Thunderbird One’s access codes,” Dad said.  Compared to the warmth of earlier, the words were ice cold and doused Alan with a harsh dose of reality.  He’d broken his promise to Scott and Dad had found out.  That was both promises broken.  “And I’d like to know when you learnt to pilot the Thunderbirds.”

Alan had messed up.  He’d messed up big time, but he was a Tracy and he might have broken his promises, but the only thing running through his mind right then was that he couldn’t let Scott take the fall.  A year ago, he’d been more than happy to hide behind his eldest brother, but Alan was older now.

Or maybe he couldn’t bear the idea of Scott getting in trouble after the hell they’d all had.

“I hacked the sims,” he said, pushing all the bravado he could muster into the words and meeting his father dead in the eye, daring him to doubt him.

“And the access codes?”  If looks could kill, Alan would have been zapped on the spot.

“I guessed.”

“First time?” Dad said, doubt clearly oozing from every pore.  Alan refused to cower.  He couldn’t cower.  He had to protect Scott, make sure Dad didn’t find out that Scott had disobeyed him.

He owed Scott that much.

“First time,” he retorted.

“You expect me to believe you successfully hacked the sims without anyone noticing often enough to teach yourself to pilot three Thunderbirds, and correctly guessed Thunderbird One’s access code first time?”  Dad sounded furious.

“Yes,” Alan snapped back.  “I-”

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged him back.  A blink later and he was staring at his eldest brother’s back.

“I taught him,” Scott said.  “Dad, I taught Alan to pilot the Thunderbirds.  He got the access code from me, too.”

“Scott!” Alan hissed, unable to believe what was happening.  Scott was rigid, stiff enough that all he was missing was the salute to flash back to his air force days, and Alan recognised defensive body language when he saw it – even if he’d never seen it on Scott before.  “Scott, no-”

Scott turned his head, and Alan was silenced by a small smile.  “I appreciate you trying to cover for me, Al,” he said.  “But you don’t have to take the fall for this.”

“Scott.”

At Dad’s voice, Scott’s head snapped forward again.  Alan tried to peer around his brother to get a read on Dad’s face – he couldn’t be too mad at Scott, could he?  But Alan had also never heard his voice that cold.  If Absolute Zero had a sound, Alan suspected it would be like that.

No-one spoke.  Alan found himself holding his breath.  Then Dad broke the silence with two words that said so much more.

“My office.”

Alan wanted to shout and scream.  That wasn’t fair!  Scott was the eldest, was second-in-command.  He wasn’t supposed to be hauled to the office to be reamed out with the full force of Dad’s temper!

But he couldn’t talk.  Hands were finding his arms, his shoulders, and pulling him back into a defensive cocoon of brothers, away from Dad’s line of sight.

Still straight-backed, still stiff as cardboard, Scott obeyed.  He didn’t say a word, didn’t look back at them, and Alan wasn’t sure if it was because he thought Dad would somehow get even angrier if he did, or if he just didn’t want to look at them.

Dad didn’t follow immediately, and despite himself Alan found himself thankful for the cluster of brothers half-shielding him from the piercing gaze of his father.  It rested on each of them in turn, and Alan realised he was putting the facts together, realising Scott couldn’t have pulled it off long enough for him to actually learn as much as he clearly had without some back-up.

Realising that Alan had been able to pilot Thunderbirds Two and Four as well.

It was John standing in front, taking Scott’s place as the shield.  John, the only brother who hadn’t directly taught him anything, but had been instrumental in keeping the access logs and security footage clear of incriminating evidence.

Alan waited with bated breath, anticipating orders for more brothers to go to Dad’s office and join Scott in disgrace, but after a too-long moment of silence, Dad just turned and walked away.

Only once he was gone did the tension ease from the room, his brothers’ shoulders dropping and dramatic exhales of air filling the room – mostly from Gordon, who was clearly exaggerating them.

“Scott,” Alan found himself whimpering, staring wide-eyed at the stairs that lead to Dad’s office.

“Dad was always going to find out one day,” John told him, turning around and putting his good hand on his shoulder.  Physical contact from him was rare, and Alan straightened his spine on instinct.  “Scott knew we couldn’t hide how much you’d learnt forever.”

“We could have done without the timing, though,” Gordon chipped in.  Alan glanced at him to see his face twisted into something between a wince and a grimace.

“Are you all going to be in trouble?” he asked, feeling a little small.

John gave him a small, sad grin.  “We’ll be fine.  Scott’ll take the fall for all of us.”

That didn’t seem fair.  They had all disobeyed Dad – all five of them – so why did Scott have to take the rap?  Why hadn’t Scott let him take the punishment?  It had been his broken promise that had triggered it all in the first place.

The familiar roar from the direction of the office – muffled by walls and distance in a way Alan wasn’t used to when it was usually him on the receiving end of it – interrupted anything he might have tried to stay about it.

“-got your brother killed!” exploded into earshot, and despite it not being aimed at him, despite it being yelled from several rooms away, Alan froze in place.

He’d never realised the rest of the villa could hear Dad when he was on a rage.  How was it soundproofed against the Thunderbird launches but not Dad?

The rest of the words were still muffled, clarity fading away back to an overarching roar, and he heard Virgil make a disbelieving noise under his breath.

None of them spoke, though.  Nor did they move, instead remaining clustered together as they listened to the sound of Scott taking the fall for them.  All of them.

Alan hated it.

It felt like an age before silence fell, Dad’s tirade finally exhausted.  He exchanged glances with all of his brothers, the four of them debating if it was safe to separate and go their own separate ways now it was over, or if they should stay together and wait for the reappearance of the rest of their family.

The latter won, so it was as a cluster they turned to the stairs at the sound of footsteps.  Only one set, and something unpleasant settled in the pit of his stomach when Dad’s feet came into view.  He still looked unhappy, and when his sharp eyes landed on John, Alan found himself gripping the hem of his brother’s shirt.

But Dad didn’t say anything to John, nor did he speak to Virgil, or Gordon, as his eyes homed in on them in turn.  Then the steel landed on Alan, and he tried not to gulp.  He was officially a member of International Rescue now.  He couldn’t cower in front of the commander – in front of Dad.

Somehow, impossibly, the steel seemed to soften, just a little.

“Your official training starts tomorrow,” he said.  “I want you in Command and Control at oh-eight hundred hours sharp.”

Alan felt his eyes widen.  His training?  Dad was still going to start his training?

“Yes, sir!”  The words exploded out of him, his back straightening.  He was rewarded with something that, for a split second, looked like a flash of a smile, before Dad’s face was stern again.

“Your training will be with me,” he continued.  “We’ll be starting with Thunderbird One.”

There was a ripple through his brothers, and Alan’s breath caught in his throat.  Thunderbird One training… without Scott?

He remembered the first time Scott took him into the silo, the way his eyes had lit up with love at the sight of his ‘bird, and the hidden nerves as his brother had waited for his judgement on the ‘bird.  Thunderbird One was Scott’s.  Scott loved Thunderbird One, and he knew from snatched conversations with all his brothers that Scott had trained them all on his ‘bird himself.

Alan was adult enough to read between the lines.  Not being able to officially train him was Scott’s punishment.

But there was nothing he could do to get Dad to change his mind.  Protests swirled through his mind, but the words wouldn’t come, and Dad wasn’t waiting for a response anyway.  Sentence given, Dad carried on walking, past them and into the kitchen where Alan could vaguely hear murmured conversation start up.

“Damn,” Gordon breathed.  “Did Dad just-”

“Strip Scott of Thunderbird One’s training rights?” John finished for him.  “I think he did.”

Virgil made another noise, almost keening, but wordless.

Alan just felt cold.  This was his fault.  This was all his fault.  Scott would be absolutely devastated, and it was all his fault.

Scott still hadn’t appeared, and he felt the urge to find him.  To apologise, even if all he could offer were words and he couldn’t change anything.  Couldn’t persuade Dad to change his mind.

His other brothers slowly started drifting apart, no longer feeling the need for safety in numbers now Dad seemed satisfied with the fallout.  None of them went far, but it was enough for him to take a breath and head for the stairs.

No-one stopped him.

Alan didn’t know where Scott would be, but he hadn’t come downstairs, so he had to be in the villa somewhere.  He wouldn’t have stayed in the office, either – Dad wouldn’t have let him even if he’d wanted to after that chewing out – so that was one less place to look.  His feet took him to the floor with their bedrooms, five open doors in a row.

Four open doors.

Alan blinked and looked again.  Four doors were in various states of open, mostly ajar or half-open, but the door that was always open during the day was shut tight.

Scott’s door.

He gulped again.  Scott’s door was always open to them; even at night when it was physically closed, it had never felt as shut as it did then.  The temptation was there to leave and come back later, and Alan took a stumbling step back almost without realising what he was doing.

He should leave Scott alone.  That was what the shut door meant, right?  Scott didn’t want to see anyone – see him – so he’d shut them all out.  Except… wasn’t it also a cry for help?  They had an entire island to escape in if anyone truly wanted to be alone.  At least for Alan, if he was in his room… he always knew his brothers would find him there.  It was the beaches, the rocks, the jungle, where he went when he really wanted to be alone.

Maybe he was wrong, but this was all his fault.  He had to fix it.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached out and pressed his palm flat against Scott’s door.  It didn’t move, but he stepped closer anyway, resting his forehead against it as well.

“Scott?” he called quietly.  There was no response but it felt like the silence was suddenly heavy.  Listening.

Waiting.

It wasn’t a go away, Alan, so he took another breath and found the door controls, switching it to open.

He braced himself as it unlatched, sliding open smoothly, but still there was no reaction from the other side of the door.  The thought flickered through his mind that maybe the closed door was a decoy, maybe Scott wasn’t there, but then he could see into the room and the figure hunched over on the bed.

Any doubts that Scott hadn’t been told about the new training plan were dashed at the sight of him.  Perched on the side of the bed, his head and shoulders were slumped forward, hands limply in his lap.

Alan had never seen his brother like that.

“Scott?” he tried again, tentatively edging into the room.

���Hey, Al.”  His brother’s voice was quiet and unusually flat.  Unless he was imagining things, there’d been a small rasping edge to it, too.

Then Scott turned his head to look at him and Alan knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Bright blue eyes glistened, but his attention was caught by the raw red rings around them, a sight Alan had seen in the mirror more times than he cared for, but had never thought he’d see on Scott.  But it was the quirk of the lips into the most painfully fake attempt at a reassuring smile Alan had ever seen that stung the most.

Scott was hurting.  Scott was hurting so much and listening to the same instincts that always had him teaching the kids that picked on Fermat a lesson, Alan’s hesitation melted away.  Letting the door fall shut behind him, he launched himself forward, catching hold of Scott and gripping him in the tightest hug he could manage.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, hiding his face in his brother’s neck.  “I’m so, so, sorry.  You trusted me and I broke it and now Dad’s mad with you and I’m so sorry, Scott.”

Scott had stiffened when he grabbed him, a natural instinct to an unexpected tackle-hug, but Alan felt him quickly fall lax again.  Arms loosely wrapped around him, too loose to really qualify as a hug, but any reaction was better than none.  They stayed like that for a moment before tightening.

“Thanks,” Scott muttered into his hair.  “That wasn’t why Dad figured it out, but thanks for apologising.”

“It wasn’t?” Alan asked, “but-”

“You and Fermat in the silo because you guessed the access code or stole it from Brains would have satisfied Dad,” Scott said, and it sounded an awful lot like reassurance even though Alan wasn’t the one that had just been crying.  Alan wasn’t the one being punished.  “It’s the Hood and someone needing to stop him, and you were the only one that could.”

Scott’s hold tightened again.

“John had to convince Dad you could do it,” he muttered.  Alan remembered seeing Dad look to one side, but he’d thought that had been Scott.

“Not you?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know why it hadn’t been.

Scott let out a wet chuckle.  “I was still waking up,” he admitted.  “Didn’t know what was going on by the comms until Dad ordered us all back to Three and said we had to get to London asap.”  He paused, letting out a quiet huff that ruffled Alan’s hair.  “Not the first flight I had in mind for you,” he said, an almost dry attempt at humour despite his voice still being wet.  “But I knew you could do it.”

“Even if I messed up the landing struts?” Alan asked.  The laughter he got was a little louder that time.  More genuine.

“Nobody’s perfect,” his brother said.  “Her landing struts are a small price to pay for everything ending up okay.”  Alan felt him pause again.  “But I don’t know if Brains will have them fixed in time for your training tomorrow.”

His voice hitched on the word training and Alan winced.

“I wish it was you,” he muttered.  “Things make sense when you say them.”

To his surprise, Scott pulled back from the hug, far enough to meet his eyes.  They were still red-rimmed and glistening, even if the grin on his face looked slightly less sad.  Slightly more genuine.

“Just make sure to show Dad how good you are,” he said.  “I’ll bribe John for the footage.”

Despite himself, Alan laughed.  He didn’t think Scott would even need to bribe him; John had been as taken aback as the rest of them at Scott’s punishment.

“Okay,” he agreed.  It still hurt that Scott wouldn’t be with him, especially not when it was all his training that Alan would be showing off, but if Scott could still at least watch…

Well, it was better than nothing.

Scott squeezed him tightly again for a moment before letting go entirely.  Reluctantly, Alan got the hint and stepped back.

“Are you going to come out?” he asked, and tried not to be too crestfallen when Scott shook his head.

“I’m still not too old to be sent to my room to ‘think about what I’ve done’,” he quoted, rolling his eyes and smiling a watery smile.  “I’ll be down for dinner.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Alan offered, knowing the loneliness of imposed isolation, even if it was only for a few hours.

Scott shook his head, but his smile was a little brighter.  “I’ll be okay,” he said.  “Go spend some time with John while he’s dirtside.”

That was a dismissal, and Alan sighed.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”  Scott made childish shoo, shoo gestures and shot him another watery grin.  “Go on.”

Alan didn’t want to leave, but it was clear Scott wasn’t interested in company.  His eyes were still glistening with unshed tears, and somewhat selfishly Alan didn’t want to see them fall.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, reluctantly obeying his brother’s request.  “Don’t be late, okay?”

“I don’t plan on missing out on any of Ohana’s cooking,” Scott promised.  “I’ll be there.”

Alan nodded, and with one last look at his brother – still sat slumped on the edge of his bed, but sending him an encouraging grin that clearly said Alan should leave – slipped back out into the hallway.

As he had promised, Scott reappeared in time for dinner, looking much better and clearly cleaned up.

And as Dad had promised, he wasn’t there at oh-eight hundred hours when Alan reported to Command and Control.  The rest of his brothers were present, in various stages of lounging as they eyed him, but Scott’s absence was a gaping hole.

Dad didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Put that on,” he said, gesturing to a folded uniform on the desk.  White with blue piping, it perfectly matched the one Scott was wearing in the portrait behind him.  Thunderbird One’s colours.

He did as he was told, realising it was a little too big for him in the shoulders, but not quite long enough in the leg.  The name patch said Alan, but he knew there was no way Dad had managed to get a uniform made for him that quickly.  If he squinted, he could see the pale imprint underneath that spelled out Gordon.  A hand-me-down training uniform, then.

Dad was wearing his own, also blue-trimmed with Jeff on the name patch, and next to him in his brother’s hand-me-downs, Alan felt like a child playing dress-up.

No.  He wasn’t a child.  He was a member of International Rescue, had at least some training on piloting three of the Thunderbirds thanks to Scott, and for Scott he had to hold his head up high.  It was his eldest brother that had got him here, and even if Dad was furious about it, Alan owed him that much.

He straightened his back and met Dad’s gaze head-on.  The look he got back was unreadable and he fought the instinct to look away.

“Let’s go,” the man said, not paying his three middle sons any attention as he breezed past them.  Alan glanced at them as he followed, and got three supportive smiles in response.  Gordon added an encouraging thumbs’ up.

It was the first time Dad didn’t order him to look away when he typed in the code, and Alan watched him punch in the same number sequence he’d seen Scott enter so many times.  From the look Dad gave him, he no doubt knew.

Nothing was said until they were in the elevator, riding down towards Thunderbird One’s silo.  Doing the journey without Scott felt wrong.

“You might – officially – know the codes now,” Dad said, “but for as long as you’re under training, you are still not permitted down here without a full member of International Rescue for company.  Do you understand?”

It was a step up from the previous Dad-only rule.  Alan knew he could badger any of his brothers into taking him down.  They’d been willing to do it behind his back, after all.  Dad probably knew that, too.

He nodded his agreement just as the elevator came to a stop.  The by now familiar sight of Thunderbird One through her access door greeted them, and he watched as Dad entered the same, familiar, code.  The door opened as smoothly as ever, and Alan followed Dad onto the gantry.

“First of all,” Dad said, turning and facing him.  He was standing straight, towering above Alan, but Alan refused to show how intimidating that was.  Being in here with Dad was nothing like being in here with Scott.

Scott always went straight for Thunderbird One, touching her hull lightly as though being separated from her for any length of time had been too long.  Even as he was talking, he’d send occasional soft glances his ‘bird’s direction.  His love for Thunderbird One was a tangible thing.

Dad was treating her like any other bit of machinery.  The difference was jarring.

“I want to see what you know,” Dad continued.  “Show me, and try not to launch accidentally this time.”  There was a rebuke in there.  Alan heard it clear as day, and despite his determination to prove himself an adult, he felt a wince cross his face at the reminder of his blunder.

He’d been too busy showing off to Fermat and panicked when something went wrong.  One of the first things Scott had shown him was how to cancel the launch sequence – before Dad got wind that she was trying to launch.  It shouldn’t have happened.

At Dad’s command, the access panel slid open and he muscled his way across to the co-pilot’s seat.  Nothing like Scott, who moved like he knew her intimately.  Alan supposed that was the difference between being in someone else’s ‘bird and being in your own.  Maybe Dad was softer with Thunderbird Three.

As soon as Dad was settled, Alan sidled in.  It was an action he’d done countless times, and he didn’t need to think about the correct hand and foot holds as he eased himself into the pilot seat and instinctively pulled on the harness.

Then he glanced across at Dad, whose expression was still unreadable.

“Whenever you’re ready,” his father said.  Alan took a deep breath, settling the nerves that had suddenly sprung up.  It was worse than an exam at school; at least he didn’t have the additional pressure of validating his brother during exams.

He could do this.  Scott believed in him.  Scott had taught him.  He’d piloted her all the way to London to stop the Hood; he could run through the motions cold.

Another breath and his hands began to move, starting pre-flight checks and doing his best to ignore the prickle of Dad watching.

She told him her landing struts had a fault, and he faltered.  He knew that, knew Brains had her slated for repair once the hangar was put back together and Thunderbird Three’s engine was replaced, and they weren’t actually going to be flying Thunderbird One, but… if he just ignored that, what would Dad think?  Was he supposed to be acknowledging what they both knew, because it was a fault?

His fingers stilled, and Dad sighed.  The sound sent a shudder down Alan’s spine.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said, and Alan wilted.

He must have hesitated too long, must have made a mistake in his judgement.  Dad was disappointed; he’d let Scott down.

“Scott, report to Thunderbird One’s silo immediately.”

What?  He wasn’t going to chew Scott out again, was he?  He’d already made Scott cry last night; was Dad really going to be that harsh?

“Dad-” he started, not sure what to say but knowing he had to say something.  Scott had taken more than enough of the rap for his unauthorised training already.

“Get back onto the gantry, Alan,” Dad interrupted.

“But-  I-”  No, he couldn’t just give up.  Dad couldn’t make him stop like that, could he?

“That was an order, Alan.  We’ll wait for your brother on the gantry.”  Dad’s tone brooked no arguments, and Alan reluctantly obeyed.

Almost as soon as he was out, Dad was behind him, nudging him forwards with a hand on his shoulder so he could leave the cockpit, too.  Alan hunched over, catching one arm with the opposite hand, and tried not to shuffle his feet as he waited for Scott to arrive.

It wasn’t a long wait.  Barely a minute after being ordered out of the Thunderbird, the silo door opened to reveal Scott.  His hair was mussed and he looked like he’d run from wherever he’d been as fast as he could, despite the no running in the house rules.

Blue eyes homed in on him, and he flinched.  Scott, of course, noticed.

“What happened?” he asked.  It would have been a demand if it wasn’t aimed at Dad.

A blur of white and blue landed in his face, and Alan felt his own eyes widen as Scott reflexively caught it.

“Put that on,” Dad ordered.  Alan watched Scott shake it out, revealing it was his own uniform.

“Dad?” Scott asked, confusion dripping from the word.  “I thought-”

“I know what you thought,” Dad interrupted.  “Suit up.”

What was going on?  Alan looked between the two of them, seeing his own confusion mirrored in Scott’s eyes while in Dad’s there was something that looked like… satisfaction?  Dad was satisfied about something?

He’d banned Scott from training him, but now he was making Scott suit up, and it didn’t make sense.  What was he thinking?

It didn’t take Scott long to pull the uniform over his clothes, zipping it up in a rush.

“Well?” Dad said, crossing his arms expectantly.

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to train Alan anymore,” Scott said slowly, although Alan didn’t miss that he was edging closer to his Thunderbird – and him.

Dad hummed.  “I trust you’ve learnt your lesson about undermining my authority?”

Scott flinched.  “Yes, sir.”

“And you won’t do that again?”

“No, sir.”  He was standing next to Alan now, one glove pressing against the silver hull seemingly of its own accord.

“In that case,” Dad said, “I’m not about to compromise an operative by denying him the best training.  Your brother here can already do the pre-flight checks faster than Gordon without losing any accuracy.”  Wait, what?  But he’d hesitated…  “I’ll be supervising all training until further notice; I look forward to seeing how far he continues to go.”

“He’s going to give me a run for my money one day,” Scott said, and Alan whirled around to look at him.  His brother smiled down at him.  He looked proud.  “Come on, Al, let’s get this training session underway.”

He slipped into the cockpit, a stark contrast to Dad’s firmness as he all but flowed into the co-pilot seat.  This was familiar, and even though Dad was still there, still watching, Alan felt the tension leave his body as he followed.

Dimly, he was aware of Dad settling into the passenger seat behind Scott, but his attention was firmly fixed on his brother, who was running an eye over the controls and clearly working out how far he’d got before Dad had interrupted.

“Well, Al, I think we need to work on your landing sequence,” he said after a moment.  Alan was pretty sure that was partially prompted by the pre-flight warning, although it had probably been running through Scott’s mind ever since he realised her landing gear was damaged in London.  “Run me through what you did then, and we’ll see where you went wrong under the pressure.”

Confident that Thunderbird One was cold and the engines weren’t going to ignite unexpectedly, Alan reached for the first stage of a VTOL landing, only for Scott to catch his wrist.

“Not what you know is right,” he corrected gently.  “I know you can do it from cold.  Try to remember what you did on that flight.”

Most of the flight had been a blur of panic and a little bit of rage thrown in.  Alan pulled his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d done.

He’d-

Oh.

Sheepishly, he moved his hand away from the control he should have gone to first, and skipped a step.

From the look on Scott’s face – and the fact he’d stopped him immediately – his big brother had already known exactly where he’d gone wrong.  But he was still smiling.

“Looks like we need to drill that a few more times until you don’t have to think about it,” he said.  “Okay, keep going.  Let’s see if you made any other mistakes, then we’ll get to work.”

Alan returned his grin, finding himself completely undaunted by the prospect despite Dad sat behind them, watching like a hawk but saying nothing.  Scott was just that good at teaching.

“F.A.B.”

[cicaklah]

Oh go on then...

3 ships you like: spirk, Diana/47, raffles/bunny

First ship ever: MSR!!!!! (Mulder/scully in modern parlance). Also was very into vash/wolfwood, which is a polite way of saying completely insufferable.

Last song you heard: rise, naianasha (cut the cord) by coheed and cambria. Am back in my vaxis era...vaxis 3 when pls Claudio my family are dying

Favourite childhood book: the phantom tollbooth, which if you've read it...explains a lot about me.

Currently reading: new chapter of duty and burden baybeeeeeeee the regency dadhats are gonna fuck, I can feel it!!!!

Currently watching: idle TOS watch project but mostly I've been watching something I've been calling 'man play elden ring wrong' aka lilaggys no hit randomiser streams, but the mad lad went and completed it this weekend, so now what am I to do?

Oh also great British throwdown, continuing to convince me I should totally get a pottery wheel...

Currently consuming: Im going to go make some bedtime herbal tea but I'm still full from dinner (hummus and celery) which means the meds are finally working again.

Currently craving: validation, as usual.

I am too tired to tag, but pls to be doing this.

9 people to get to know better (tag game)

Thanks for the tag @electronickingdomfox

3 ships you like: All the boys from Star Trek. Like all of them in any combination from any series which is pretty much consuming my brain at this point in time. And also pretty much anyone x anyone in star trek. Like. Just. All of them.

Honorable mention: There's also some loose butchie in my brain.

First ship ever: Remy LeBeau x Rogue.

Last song you heard: Stick Season

Favourite childhood book: There is literally no picking this. I love them all.

Currently reading: Fanfiction. Because my brain has kicked everything else out.

Currently watching: Ghosts and Star Trek

Currently consuming: Saltines and tea.

Currently craving: Relaxation.

Tagging (no pressure):

@purpleenma @affixjoy @handwrittenhello @donsdawn @lunebleuegrandit @appleofmyonlyeye @chaosdragonhoard @nickelandtrek @ncc1701ohno (J, i know i know you but humor me)

[hippohead]

A Foggy Garden Around Them

hello. i was feeling restless and pulled up a prompt generator and then. well. this happened. i’m not entirely sure what it is, but this is what my brain produced based on this randomised prompt:

setting: locker room genre: fluff trope: superhero/superpowers prompt: time travel

Kurt pushes through into the locker room, anger coursing through his veins and he’s desperately trying to stop it from turning into roots, or thorns.  

Blaine is standing on the opposite side of the room, his gear on the bench next to him and his forehead pressed into the wall. His breaths are heaving, sounding heavy and hard to take, and the mist surrounding his body is swirling erratically, and thin. 

It always takes it out of him, when he uses it.  

And then Kurt remembers why he’s angry; because he used it. And it spurs him on, crossing over to Blaine with large strides and if Blaine hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t turn, doesn’t move. Kurt snaps off the branch that has starting growing out of his palm involuntarily and makes a mental note to work on keeping his hands in check when he’s mad, and then he grabs Blaine’s shoulders, flips him, ignores the chill in the mist that’s surrounding him now, too. 

He pushes his arm against the length of Blaine’s chest and into the wall, keeping him there and under his grip without inflicting any actual pain, and now he can feel Blaine’s breathing underneath him, uneven. The dirt on his forearm is mixing with the sweat on Blaine’s collarbone, and all Blaine does is look at him. Steady. Waiting.  

“What the fuck was that, Blaine? You weren’t supposed to use your time fuckery in that match,” and it comes out like a growl. He closes his fist against another branch that is threatening to break through his skin and grow.  

And finally, there’s an expression on Blaine’s face. It’s amusement, which does nothing to quell the anger Kurt is feeling. In fact, it just prods it on, gives it even more motivation.  

“Time fuckery?” and when he laughs, the mist around them blows out and disappears. It’s not as cold anymore. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“Ugh,” Kurt huffs, and pushes off his boyfriend, putting a decent amount of space between them. He’s being insufferable, and it’s making Kurt feel wild and immature because he desperately wants to whine; that wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t fair – Professor Figgins had stated before anyone even stepped into the arena that Doubles were supposed to pick only one power to use. Blaine had picked Vapor, so when he used his Time Manipulation half way through their battle, it had thrown Kurt off. Off enough that he couldn’t regain his footing, and Blaine had won. “You know what I mean. Time Manipulation. Whatever.”

All of a sudden, Kurt is being pulled by a force outside of him and it stings his skin for a second, and then he blinks his eyes open. He’s back standing in the position he was in just before, arm pressed against Blaine’s chest and, he’s just realised, impossibly close in every other way, too. Thighs touching, ankles tangled, face quite near to Blaine’s. 

“Did you just do it again?”

Blaine’s hands find Kurt’s waist and he pulls him even closer, then leans forward until their foreheads are connected. “I’m sorry, I just missed you this close to me.”

Kurt sighs. Blaine always gets clingy after they’re paired up for a fight. Whether it’s because he’s won and needs to know that Kurt isn’t mad, or he’s lost and needs the reassurance. This time, though, Kurt suspects it’s because he’s feeling guilty about cheating. “It’s not fair,” he finally says, but he manages to keep the whine out.

“I know,” Blaine says quickly, “I’m so sorry. I could feel myself losing and I lost control. I’ll tell Figgins to organise a rematch, or to change your grade.”  

And just like that, his anger falls away. He wasn’t even really that committed to it, anyway; he knew Blaine wasn’t the type to purposefully cheat, and definitely not when Kurt was his opponent. “We’ll have a rematch,” he decides. “I want to beat you fair and square.”

He moves his arm, no longer wanting the aggressive position and instead winds it around Blaine’s shoulder, letting it hang loosely and this feels better. This feels more like them.  

“Okay. Sounds good,” and then Blaine kisses him, tender and caring and deeper than Kurt was expecting. He revels in the soft fog that starts to pool around Blaine’s chest – it always does that when his heart starts beating faster and he’s too preoccupied to stop it from happening. And the fog is warm, sitting between them, a literal representation of the love Blaine has for Kurt pouring out of him.  

Kurt breaks the kiss and turns his head slightly, a little overwhelmed at the way he came in here full of resentment and is nothing but fondness now. “Can you show me, again?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, trying to be responsible. “We have to get to our next class.”

“Just quickly,” and it’s not a beg, not really, just a little nudge because he’s willing to be late – his next class is just Tactics, anyway, and Ms. Holliday is always super lenient.

Blaine chuckles, “Okay, but after this time I’m making a rule that I’ll only take you traveling with me outside of school hours.”

“Deal,” he smiles.  

Kurt steps back, knowing he needs to for this to work, and lets Blaine get into the right headspace. His eyes are closed and he looks focused, everything in his mind narrowing and tightening, but there’s a smile playing on his lips at the memories Kurt knows he’s pulling up.  

And then he says, “Okay,” quietly, like if he speaks too loudly it’ll knock him off-balance, and reaches out for Kurt’s hand. The second their palms connect, Kurt feels the force and the sting again, and then it stops. He opens his eyes and -  

They’re standing in the Dalton cafeteria, students in blazers wandering around and looking like any normal student body. And they would be, if it weren’t for the balls of fire that Puck is playing with in his hands, or the way Santana pulls out her seat to sit down in without touching it.  

Blaine has taken them to Kurt’s first day – he transferred to Dalton half way through last year after the incident at his old school. His dad had always known about his powers, of course, but Kurt had managed to get away with fading into the background, and avoiding any attention. He could keep it all under control when that was the case. But then the bullying had started, and the kiss had happened. The unwanted kiss, the one that was stolen from him, and he hadn’t meant for the vines to twine themselves around Karofsky’s neck, not consciously.  

Karofsky was fine; Kurt hadn’t done any serious or lasting damage. And he did get expelled for assaulting Kurt, but Burt had still decided that it was time for Kurt to go to a school that could help him with his powers, rather than force him to hide them. 

They’re just behind the Blaine from that day, and he’s carrying a tray of food over to a lunch table when he sees him – the Kurt from that day. He’s sitting by himself, reading a book, his fingers mindlessly twirling over a small pile of dirt on the table next to him. And with each circle motion of his hand, another daisy grows. They watch Blaine’s chest lift, eyes on Kurt and his tiny garden, and then watch the small, incredibly soft smile that grows on Blaine’s face. A similar one grows on current-Kurt's face, and then current-Blaine grabs his hand again.  

This time they’re in the doorway of the common room, past versions of themselves being the only ones in there. Kurt watches as the fog envelopes around their first kiss and remembers the way it had felt – so warm and encompassing and perfect. And he waits for it, the moment the tiny wildflowers grow from the backs of his hands, his neck, the tips of his ears; anywhere there was skin to bloom.  

There’s more force and sting, and then they’re standing in Blaine’s dorm room. It’s just past-Blaine in there and Kurt frowns; Blaine’s never taken him to this memory before and he can’t see past-Kurt anywhere. But then he emerges from the bathroom, blushing and on edge, anticipation in the edges of him, and oh. Kurt knows exactly what memory this is.

“I can’t believe you’ve brought us back here.”

“Shh,” Blaine replies cheekily, watching as past-them fall onto the bed together.  

“Pervert,” he retorts, but he watches them for a little while, too. It’s kind of sweet, seeing the start of their first time, all tentative touches and giggling and marveling. And then past-Blaine takes off his shirt and he squeezes Blaine’s hand in a plea to move to the next one. If they wait any longer, they’re going to be essentially watching their own sex tape.  

Blaine takes them back to their first party together, drunk and shining and happy. He takes them to the time they planted trees together in Blaine’s backyard at his parent’s place, Blaine picking the type of tree and Kurt growing it on the spot. He takes them to the time Kurt had agreed to go on a picnic with Blaine in the middle of December, and he’d kept them warm with a cloud around them.  

He takes them back to a couple of nights ago, when Kurt had snuck into Blaine’s room after the prefects had finished patrolling the hallways, and how they’d fallen asleep together, a foggy garden around them in the sheets, because they couldn’t help but show their content through their powers.  

Blaine grabs his hand one last time, and he feels the pull again, and when he opens his eyes, they’re back in the locker room. It’s just them, no past selves to keep them company, and Kurt can feel the yellow and red roses growing from his fingertips. 

“I guess these are for you,” he laughs, and he wonders what it is about Blaine that makes him so transparent; what is it that makes him lose control of his abilities. He just makes him feel so much, more than he’s ever felt, and he can’t stop the flowers from appearing.  

Blaine seems worn out but he bundles the roses together and tugs, knowing it doesn’t hurt Kurt to snap them, and smiles. “Thank you,” and then he looks at his watch, “Shit. We’re going to be so late.”  

Kurt kisses Blaine quickly and then jumps into one of the shower cubicles to rinse off from their match, which is what they’d headed in here to do in the first place. The water comes out cold and Kurt curses, shocked at the temperature. And he waits a moment, but it doesn’t heat up. “Blaine?” he asks, hearing the shower to his left turning on. “The water’s cold.”  

And it’s not a line, or a move; the water really is cold. 

But then there’s a knock on his door and Blaine is huddling into his stall, completely naked and mumbling jokingly about Kurt trying to get him expelled, and he starts to warm up the water with his hands. And Kurt can’t quite find it within himself to annoyed about the original temperature anymore; this is much better.  

He’ll get to class eventually.

[radiosandrecordings]

can you explain what's going on with audioverse. im genuinely confused. i couldn't understand what their answer meant. did they rank alphabetically or did they count people's votes. im confused. also if a lot of people are voting for people from one podcast why is that bad? like. if it's the people's choice awards why are they limiting who can be nominated?

I honestly had a really hard time parsing their meaning too, and as did a lot of my friends and we basically came to the consensus that they were... Just kind of trying to list statistics to gloss over for the fact that I’d noticed that they’d gone by names and not votes? And if they weren’t, the phrasing/jargon is just a little too incomprehensible for me. 

Like “We understand you wish that some your favorites are up on that list. We do too” was incredibly condescending and missed my entire point - I’m not butthurt that my favs aren’t winning, I’m frustrated that the only audio drama awards are using an unfair system to vote, something they seemingly admitted to “We are aware of alphabetical bias and set the order of nominees to be randomized on each ballot. This means that voters had to pick out which nominee they voted for deliberately.” I’m not quite sure what the second half means - Do they mean when in the voting form they shuffled the order? That’s not the same thing as randomising who from each production got through, and even then, that would be equally as bad as the alphabet thing! They should go going by who got the votes! The favourites bit is also condescending in that.. A podcast I VA and write for was nominated? Granted we didn’t make it to the second round, but I’m not just a fan mad about their favs, I’m someone who actually had stakes in this and want to be assured that the system is running smoothly and fairly 

“We do not release the data we collect, even though it might explain why the results are the way they are, since our purpose is to draw attention to audio fiction, not serve as a ranking system.” Again, I didn’t ask for data, I pointed out that they were using an unfair system. And as Bert said in their reblog, they’re an awards. Their job is literally to be a ranking system. I don’t know how they could actually say those words.  

As for what you said about voting for people from one podcast - I do kind of have to agree with audioverse there. A big production like TMA will get voted for a lot, so if we purely take the votes it gets, it’s actors will get more votes just because people have heard of them, while they might not vote for an actor who is actually more accomplished, just because they haven’t listened to that show. It’s a way to make sure it doesn’t become entirely popularity based, as faulty as it may be 

[calamitousrpgarchive]

AND DOWN GO THE CHAMPIONS

Another bloody wave of battle leave more than ego’s bruised, a growing heat that emanates from everyone standing inside and outside the Ring. There’s been some heavy hits given and deaths accounted for. Entering the quarter finals of the 121st SRS gives those still standing; the ones that are still fighting through to claim victory a little taste of how truly close they are.

Esme “Scarlet Witch” Darcy’s fight brings down the roof; a burst of power that shatters the right wing seating and the top of the Slaughter Ring’s structure collapses – much like earlier in the night, full circle, perhaps? It draws all attention to how there’s a slick red coating that seeps from the collapse; death doesn’t just come for those in the ring it seems and the power trip reminds all that even spectating has its dangers.

It’s but a few minutes later that an abrupt whirr of static – triggered by the reddening magic of Esme herself that the roster’s board flickers, as though broken. A switch of the line-up suddenly evident in the way the red streams from beneath electronic names. A whisper of sabotage is again spread across the crowd – that perhaps the very same Witch that seemed to lose control of her magic did something to secure a victory in her favour. Perhaps even bribery; a distraction so someone could alter the roster, but even so, it remains and the changes are blatant on everyone’s screens.

Nobody’s brave enough to challenge it – nor does anyone have any holding about the SRS’s benefactor of the year; nameless; all in their control despite how the Champions fight for their very lives. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s personal; because the change affects the very person who’s killing their way through to secure a wish... vengeance comes in all forms... and there’s only been one of them standing since the very beginning...

The Quarter Finals will continue as planned:

ROUND 3: THE QUARTER FINALS 

I. Aslyn “Chaos Wolf” Bishop vs. Ariel “Atlantis” Tarren  II. Demitri “Honeypot” vs. Esme “Scarlet Witch” Darcy III. Ragnar “Fenrir’s Claw” Lothbrok vs. Alistair “Adonis” Adams IV. Mike “The Mad Wolf” Fothergill vs. Jake “The King’s Guard” Juarez

Who still has their bets valid? There’s certainly still time to make new ones...

ADMIN NOTE: And here we are PART 3! The QUARTER FINALS! The Champions, if they’re still standing that is, line up for a chance to get into the penultimate position... and that wish is so bloody close...

We’d like to an extra moment too, to say THANK YOU for the overwhelming excitement and participation in the optional event this month! We’re glad you’re enjoying it and bettering into who’s surviving, who’s ... dying... oops, whilst also keeping all other exciting threads, new, old and all that’s between running in other parts of the state! We’re so grateful for you all! <3

Same rules apply... Champions may threads their fights, preparations... speculate a certain witch’s little mishap that has both the roster changing (perhaps coincidence, don’t go total target on them now, will we?) and the death of ‘innocent’ spectators on the right side of the stadium... better check loved ones aren’t beneath the rubble, heh...

As always, any questions, please come at us! We’re here for it all! Let us know if you need dice randomisers again or if you’ve got PLANS! The SEMI-FINALS will drop around the end of the month... which... February means, the 28TH! Peace !

[nimbostrxtus]

💏

fifty ways to kiss someone.   send me a 💏 and i will randomise a number in order for my muse to kiss yours…

45...out of anger.

“Never do that again Zack!” Cloud roared, the leather strap of his friend's uniform clutched tightly in one hand and an antidote in the other. The blonde was beyond angry. Beyond scared. Beyond relieved. He was fucking pissed off! “Stop throwing yourself into danger and trying to laugh it off like you weren’t just bleeding out on the ground two fucking seconds ago!”

Overcome with such intense polarizing emotions, wanting to punch Zack in the face but also wanting to hold him close and never let go, Cloud settled on a compromise. Pulling the idiot up so he could feel the heavy heartbeat thumping against his own (alive!) he kissed Zack hard on the mouth like this would be their last kiss together.

It was meant to be a simple mission; cross the marshes and go into the Mythril Mines to collect a rare type of metal for a blacksmith in Kalm to craft new weapons with for his shop. The client, however, failed to mention the small tiny little bitty detail about the sandpit invested with fucking ZOLOMS!!!

Neither men wanted to waste their hard-earned gil on renting out chocobos for such a short journey, but that only made them easy targets for the giant snakes to ambush. Naturally, Zack didn’t hesitate in throwing himself in front of Cloud and taking a venomous bite to the chest. Cloud tried to assist but was quickly ejected from the battle after one swipe of the Zolom’s mighty tail, leaving Zack to face the monster alone. It had been a miracle Zack managed to deliver the killing blow right before passing out from the poison, and an even greater miracle that Cloud managed to drag his unconscious ass out of the marsh before another ominous looking shadow under the treacherous sand could catch up with them.

Cloud had been a quivering mess, throwing the contents of his travel sack across the grass in a mad search to find an antidote. Tears clouded his vision as he forced the medicine down Zack’s throat and gripped at the front of his uniform tightly, begging Zack to open his eyes.

“You don’t get to leave me again,” Cloud hissed as tears started to subside. Loosening his grip ever so slightly he kissed Zack again, softer this time. Their lips would no doubt have bruises by tomorrow. “I can’t lose you...not again. I won’t.”

[queen-boo]

Tagged by @ladadee195 and @iocococo! Thank you so much friends!

Rules: answer some questions and tag the bloggers you want to know better

Name: Jayne (but I try to avoid using it online as much as possible lol!)

Nicknames: God too many. Jayneybop, bops, Gin, Boo, B, Bucket, Squish... Only some of those have context hahaha. 

Gender: Female??? Questioning though, there’s a whole lotta self-discovery going on these days. 

Sexuality: Bisexual. 

Height: 5′0″

Language: English

Nationality: British 

Current time: 22:12

Favourite season: AUTUMN! Spooky time! Pumpkin spice. Crunchy leaves. Rain. I like autumn.

Favourite scent: Oof I had to really think about this. Lavender I think, Vanilla. Baking, I bake a lot so I always like the smell of bread or cakes baking.  

Favourite colour: Pastels. I love pastel colours, light purples, greens, blues. I am all about soft colours. 

Favourite animals: Legally you should not be allowed to make me chose a favourite animal. I intern in zoos/aquariums. I love every animal. Every one. But if I had to choose I’m gonna give a shout out to the forgotten guys, I love bees. I love sharks. I love cephalopods (but especially cuttlefish omg). Froggies and toads. BIRDS. I love birds of prey, we have one specific species here called a red kite and they’re beautiful. I also have a surrogate child at my zoo atm, a little rainbow lorikeet we’re hand rearing and I got to name him and I adore him (his name is Vince).

Favourite fictional characters: I’ll get the obvious ones out of the way. Howard Moon and Vince Noir -- they’re just so silly and yet sincere. Young minds, beautiful souls. So much fun, literally to halves of one whole idiot. 

Then we’ve got my other fandom loves; Sherlock Holmes, in any variation would can find him. I love every singe version, and of course where Sherlock Holmes goes, so does Dr. John Watson-- even in my heart. 

I love Crowley from Good Omens, have adored him and his representation of the good and bad in people (and obvs Aziraphale too) since I was about eighteen and read the book for the first time. 

Normal amount of sleep: I typically peak at about five hours. I have chronic insomnia, and therefore sleep and I have a love hate relationship. Most nights will find me awake until 6/7am and then I will either sleep until about 10 or I’m awake again at 8. If I have a really bad spate of sleeplessness I can be awake for 24-30hours at once and then I’ll crash for like 14 hours ahahaha. But that’s really really rare. (I was once awake for about 43hours and I lost my damn mind). So usually I’ll have about 4/5 hours sleep a night. 

Number of blankets you sleep with: Just the one!

Dogs or cats: I own both, and I adore my puppies, but I’m such a cat person. I live a bit of a busy lifestyle for dogs, I think

Dream trip: I sorta already had it? I went to south africa last year and volunteered on a game reserve. For weeks I was out there helping anti-poaching efforts and volunteering in the orphan cetres and with the born free foundation to help rehabilitate animals to be released into the wild. Currently saving to go back, really, so maybe that? Or, aside from that, I’d love to go to Texas in the US. Specifically Austin (and I hopefully will next year)

Dream job: Oof so many answers to this. I spent a brief periso of my life as a professional actor and I adored it, but because of life circumstances had to come home and found myself on the path of animal care so... I would love to be a full time performer. I would love to work with animals full time. I’d love to be a published author too hahah-- I don’t know, just randomise it and pick one for me. 

Followers: 386-- Wow how did that happen I like never post on my main hahah!

Blog established: like 2012. I’ve been here a long ass time, cycled through so many fandoms and looks and usernames too.  

Reason for my url: I just changed it recently. I was Crazy-mad-insane but I wanted it to match my AO3 because I’m starting to get more interaction from fics and decided it was time to be consistent haha/ But it’s as simple as I have the nickname Boo (because I always play that character in mariokart/Marioparty and they’re my favourite Mario character full stop) and you know, I’m a queen lol

Random fact: I literally have no idea what to put here so I’ll put a funny lil’ tale about one time I accidentally brought a poison dart frog home from the zoo I work in because another intern left the lid open on the tank and a bunch of the babies escaped--and we thought we got them all until I got home and found one of the little guys hanging out in my uniform pocket. (luckily when poison dart frogs are bred in captivity they are no longer poisonous so I just had to keep him in a lil box until I could take him home)

Tagging @kateyboosh @cronchy-saboo @un1c0rntea and @silentorator if you guys fancy it!! <3

[arcxnumvitae]

💏 Ichi and Mani, same same again XD

fifty ways to kiss someone.   send me a 💏 and I will randomise a number in order for my muse to kiss yours…

48 …out of habit.

Imani’s arm curled through Ichirou’s as they walked, brilliant eyes glinting under the glow of the streetlights as they looked up at him with a smile on her lips. “You should have seen the look on that man’s face when Arata cut in between him and Yuka,” she chuckled and sighed, “From the way Arata was holding onto that glass I thought for sure I was going to lose another one. I can’t get too mad though,” a knowing look entered her gaze as her eyes glinted mischievously at Ichirou, “seeing the looks you get almost makes me want to act the same.” 

She never realized how grateful she would be to have company on her walk back home after work. Sure, Arata and some of the other employees always tried to walk her back, but most of the time she managed to orchestrate things without their knowledge so that they didn’t have to. Not when their homes were in the opposite direction of hers. And even now, some part of her still felt bad for making Ichirou go out of his way for her even though he’d assured her countless times that he didn’t mind. Still, despite the small feeling of guilt, Imani couldn’t shake the warmth in her chest at getting to spend those few moments together as they walked and shared stories about their days. And, she realized as her hand intertwined with his, when she was with him she felt safe.

It was far too soon when they arrived at her apartment building and Imani reluctantly pulled away. Glancing upwards, she nodded at the building, where she knew Ayo was probably waiting up for her and Callie was sleeping, with a small smile. “Callie’s excited about tomorrow, she’s going to have a ‘surprise’ for you and she’s been bouncing around all day because of it.” Imani chuckled and rose up to give him a kiss, the same as she did every night. Once they separated, but still remaining close enough to kiss him again, she murmured, “…Thank you again. You don’t have to do this but you do. Thank you.” 

[cepmurphy]

The Maze With No Exit

The attempt to rebrand everything as new and progressive died a death when it got to Labyrinth Complex. Even without the years of propaganda and barely hushed up deaths and the sleazy ‘true stories’ Men in the Maze soap, even if every part of the interior was rebuilt and all the punishment programs replaced and gumdrops given to all inmates, you still had to look at the damn thing. A decaying, crumbling pre-space fortress out in the moors. A place you’d torture a heretic, a place of plague and starvation.

All of it bollocks: Labyrinth Complex was only fifteen years old and had been deliberately made to look like shit. It screamed ‘prison’, ‘tough on crime’, ‘they’ll get what’s theirs’. On the inside, at the entrance and staff rooms, it was just bland corridors in eggshell colour and calm lighting and posters about the canteen. The guards were still hulking scarabs, but the uniforms were a new colour and the helmets rarely on. New and progressive.

The usual guard, a euro homoracial named Raku, had escorted her to the guard’s subway shuttle. You could barely feel the twists and turns as it went under the great maze. Stations flashed past: Infirmary Baker, Cell Block C, Rallying Point #2, Exit, Cell Block A. Each station the same blandness as the corridor. Each station sign was an electronic display that could be shut off.

All of it pointless – prison escapes were rare at any complex. Labyrinth’s abnormal structure did nothing for safety and everything to drain taxes, so the Dignity Party could claim there was none left.

“This is a waste of time,” said Raku, as they exited into Cell Block A. “Minotaur’s not getting out.”

“I’ve heard that from you before,” said Wu Ariadne, keeping her tone professionally pleasant.

“Guess you get paid either way.”

Under Dignity, being the wrong sort of lawyer meant you got that comment a lot and usually the implication under it. The guard had the other sort, the assumption you didn’t care about the clients.

After all Briers Minotaur was accused of, it would be easier to not care.

He brought her to the interview room – and on this side of the maze, where the inmates lived, the building again was faux-decaying stone and shadows – and despite the chair, Minotaur was standing and as close as possible to the entrance. His prison shirt was off, revealing seven feet of muscle and old scars. If you hadn’t expected it, your first reaction would be to jump and thus he’d have the power.

Airadne didn’t jump.

Skin pale as milk, face contorted into a muzzle, horns extending his height a further foot. Most cretohuman mixes filed their horns down to try and fit in. Minotaur had ripped a man open with his.

When Raku left, she was alone with one of the most notoriously violent people in the maze.

She sat down first, partly for ease of writing on her pad and partly to end any power play. Let him talk first.

“Why are you wasting my time?” Minotaur said.

“It shouldn’t be a waste. The Solidarity government wants to transfer as many people from Labyrinth as possible – a lot of the old restrictions are gone.” The reintroduction of legal aid had been transformed the Oberoi-Lktak Trust overnight from struggling charity to middling charity. “If you let us represent you, I am confident we can get you sent to another complex. I’ve already achieved this for three others—"

“Getting out of the maze and into another maze. Such fucking wonders.”  

One of the scars looked fresh. Her notes said he’d had an ‘accident’. Another inmate had ‘fallen’ the same day. Fallen onto his legs with enough force that they need bionics.

The only tattoo on Minotaur was a blue circle, ‘CSS’, with a rip through it. Normally, gangland figures would be covered with ink to show affiliation, reputation, and general frighteners – having only one was rare, and it wasn’t a tag she was familiar with.

To break the ice, she asked: “What does the tattoo mean?”

“They say I eat flesh,” he said, ignoring her. “Said that outside, say that inside. I was on Men in the Maze, they showed me doing it.” He pulled his gums back: a row of fangs at the front, yellow with plaque. “You want to know if it’s true?”

   When he’d finally got out of Centralia Secondary School – expelled for a fight he had started but only as retaliation – Minotaur had wanted to celebrate. A little reminder of the dump and how it couldn’t handle him. Take his humiliation and make it a badge of honour. Minotaur had never been allowed his juvie gang’s tag (“not for cretes”) but he could have this.

It had been twelve years since the Triworld occupation had ended. Foreign worlds protecting Herak from a hostile power, or stopping it from joining its nearest neighbour, or exploiting it under claim of protection: all depended on who you asked. Either way, the Triworld Alliance had come to terms with the Rudinsh Expanse and now Herak was free of alien soldiers. The Creta had been stationed on this part of Herak and they raped our women, or the women wantonly sold themselves, all depended on who you asked. A few hundred hybrids came out of it.

Minotaur’s mother claimed it had been love and that she tried to leave with his father, only for the Creta to deny her and dozens of others a visa. The kids at school accused her of victimhood or collaboration, depending on their mood. The local branch of Dignity tended to claim victimhood and point to the young cretahumans as the reason they should be in power. Cretahumans were a sign of shame and defeat. Cretahumans were naturally violent, didn’t you know?

There wasn’t much to do. People didn’t hire teens who got expelled and they didn’t hire ‘cretes’ and, this one to his face, they said they didn’t hire people with a record. If his record included that man they’d mugged, okay, fine, but all he’d ever had was citations for vandalism. A mere two of those. A lot of kids had worse than him.

Some of his juvie gang ‘friends’ had jobs. They’d jumped the man too. They had minor vandalism. Back in the gang everyone said you had to watch out for each other and not grass and help out, but that was all shite when it was him who needed help. The gang had wanted him because he was a scary looking kid to other kids and he’d been desperate enough to pretend that was enough.

Dignity had got dole reforms through before even they were in government and that was him stuffed. They had the council election won and the stares he got in shops and bars upgraded to “please move along, sir”. He might be violent.

In one pub, a grey satyr in grey clothes and a grey voice asked him if he could be violent against “someone who’s upsetting a friend of mine”, for money.

The second time was easier than the first. After three years of unemployment and stares and traitors, he wanted to hit someone.

Second time led to third time to fourth time and then King Minos came along with a contract. The King family had been a small outfit for decades but the big boys of the occupation had lost all their contacts when the aliens left, and Minos had used his superior brains to exploit that (or, depending on who you asked, got real lucky). King Minos needed a good soldier.

Minotaur had spent so long being looked down as a violent thug and as soon as he became one, he had cash and respect.

   “You’ve been charged with a single murder.” Ariadne put emphasis on ‘charged’. “We can’t get that sentence reduced but on its own, it’s not enough to justify Labyrinth.”

She thought Minotaur was going to imply the other murders he’d almost certainly done or bring up the assaults they couldn’t stick on him. Hell, the police could have stuck at least two on him. They just hadn’t bothered. The murder was enough under the then-new laws, and knowledge of the assault charges helped direct the jurors to guilty and the judge to the full thirty-year sentence.  

Which you could say he deserved but the law had not proven that. The guilty and the monsters were still meant to have rights. Few deserved Labyrinth.

“Same question, Ariadne. Why should I give a shit about moving from one prison to another prison?”

“Other prisons will give you better treatment and facilities. I can’t get you out but I can make it so you can tell where in the prison you are.”

“Oh, I know. Right now, this cell block is in the second ring of the maze, in the east. When it moves, it will only go to the third ring’s south or it’ll just move one slot down in second east.” He spoke with pride. “I had it all figured in the first year. It’s not difficult.”

Labyrinth was deliberately structured to be impossible to find your way out – sections given obtuse names, layout randomised, an Escher drawing of stairs and corridors to reach any other section, all outside sound muffled, each window showing the wrong place. Every four hours, the building’s interior would transform, and each section would be moved on tracks to a new location. More than being inescapable, it was designed to be disorienting. The world you lived in could not be understood, there was nothing but sand for you to build on. Far easier to obey or to turn inward.

The death rate was three times higher than the prison average.

Minotaur was not the first inmate to think they had the layout figured out. He was the only one to have done so.

“I know where I am and I know the rules in here. What do I want a transfer for?”

   Dignity got into power in a wave of infrastructure and welfare spending on the right things. Heteroracial humans and satyr got extra child support payments for the planet’s genetic stability (sucking up to 40% of the population), child support was cut at three children (to hit certain minority faiths and the harpies), there was money for schools in the right places and free higher education for teenagers who came from the correct schools, money for police and prisons to protect the good people from the wrong people. A few media laws here and there, restrictions to free trade and immigration, state-sanctioned youth groups for each sub-species that oh-so-accidentally made children less likely to talk to each other.

What people voted for.

For the first few years, this was all good for Minotaur. Some people suffering meant more loan sharking, which meant more people he’d need to threaten or hit; more restrictions meant more black marketing, which meant more people he’d need to threaten or hit; more political and racial tension meant fewer bystanders and ‘good citizens’ to notice him threatening and hitting certain folk, and it meant the heteroracial and satyr majorities saw a cretahuman in a suit coming and got out of his way.

He beat seventeen people and killed three in the good times. Any qualm had gone. That was the other handy thing about the Dignity government: everyone was for themselves now, so what the hell.

Early on, he had thought if there could be another job – he’d be old one day, he might not be able to stay a legbreaker. Other cretahumans fell into the King family’s orbit by sheer necessity, both in debt to him and doing his dirty jobs, and that made it clear there was nowhere else for them. And soon he had a deserved local reputation, so who would hire him if he didn’t have Minos behind him? They’d still be pissed at all the ‘discounts’ they’d given him.

No, he had to stay. The money was good. There was nowhere else.

Three years into the new government, one of Minos’ rival firms had got sick of the tribute they had to pay to do business. Agnes, matriarch of the Vasquez gang, sent her own son Theseus to kill Minotaur as a message. A cage fighter, a knifeman as enforcer, the best statue-perfect features that money could buy: Theseus had killed more people than Minotaur by a factor of three.

If Theseus hadn’t misjudged Minotaur’s height, the cretahuman would have died on the tribute run. With a great puncture and blood gushing out, he almost had anyway. All that saved him was the decision – a cold one, his mind refusing to go to instinct despite itself – to punch hard as he could at Theseus’ left eye. The Vasquez’s golden boy, he went with instinct and covered his eye with his free hand.

That meant Minotaur could grab and dislocate the sword arm’s wrist. Instinct was stupid. It continued to lie to Theseus, telling him to punch in the face as if this was a cage fight – it hurt and bloodied Minotaur’s mouth, it made him stagger back, but it didn’t stop him from lowering his head and charging and ripping his horns into Theseus’ guts. If his foe had punched him in the existing wound, the pain and shock might have dropped him.

Still, Minotaur almost bled out on the way to a doctor. It wasn’t all a bad hit.

And then the police, ordered from on high to do a mob crackdown, showed up and it was not hard for them to argue a filthy crete had killed poor Mrs Vasquez Agnes boy, this sporting pillar of the community. And King Minos decided, sorry Minotaur, we can’t provide an alibi, it might be bad for business.

Labyrinth Complex had been built that month. “Finally, a prison they deserve,” President Huynh had declared. Minotaur was the first one in.

   “What are the rules, Minotaur?”

“They’re whatever I say they are.”

Ah. Now, Ariadne began to understand. “And what do you say?”

“Give me what I’m owed, there’s no trouble. If there’s trouble, well, there won’t be for very long. People have accidents here all the time, it’s not a very well-built prison.”

“I understand,” she said carefully, “that King Minos had an accident when he came here.”

“A fucking tragedy. After all he did for me, getting me my first job.”

“Labyrinth was never designed for rehabilitation. Another prison might help you build a new life when you’re released.”

“That might have meant something when I was a kid. What new life can I make in my fifties? Who wants to hire the man who everyone knows eats flesh? In the Maze, I’m a king – I am the centre of all that goes on here. Fuck do I want to be a shelf stacker when I’m sixty?”

“Alright. If you change your mind, you can call the trust,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t.

This wasn’t even her first failure. So many men and women had been thrown into a maze of crime and deprivation that only ever led further in and to dead ends; not everyone could believe there was an exit anymore, and not everyone who did would ever find it. Too few people wanted that exit to be something you could find. Dignity had a lot of unpopular policies but locking ‘them’ up ‘where they deserved’ had not been one of them. Trying to shut Labyrinth was the least popular of Solidarity’s reforms.  

So, onto the next one. Always onto the next one.

   Briers Minotaur would see two more lawyers in the next three years, at which point the government (under pressure in the polls) considered enough inmates had been transferred. No new ones came in.

At the end of that three years, he violently beat a harpy over a moderate insult. The harpy fought back, managing to slash a key vein. The blood loss caused Minotaur to go into shock.

An inquest found he would have lived if the guards had cared to move fast enough. But, as the guards said to themselves, he’d only been some thug, not worth caring about.

   END

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Multiverse is a Curse Word (9)

Getting there! There’s gonna be one more chapter after all, it’s ended up being longer than I thought it would be!

@hntrgurl13, thanks for Addi, the Dimension Jumper AU, and the Drifting Dimensions AU. I love it all so much!

@the-subpar-ghost, my gosh I love the Adrift AU, I will never be able to get enough of it!

@scipunk63. Addiford. ADDIFORD. ADDIFOOOOORD. So good man.

@deadpool-demon-diva and @thejesterlyfictionista, as always.

Minor spoiler: another portal vision, this one’s from @thesnadger‘s fic Five Minutes Older. Jeez it’s awesome.

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

Chapter 9: Not What We Agreed On

“Always good to have you over,” Clive said dryly as the portal appeared.

“Sorry,” Addi winced again. She was very unsteady on her feet, and Ford was having to support her.

“Stop it. We’ll see you again, alright? You’re always welcome here.” He hugged her goodbye. “Actually, you’ll have to come back, Julian’s going to be so mad he missed you.”

“Well in that case of course I’ll be back,” Addi laughed.

“Nice to meet you, Stanford, Mabel,” Clive said, shaking Ford’s hand and waving to Mabel.

Mabel waved back, and stepped through the portal.

. . . she was in the Stanleymobile with a man thirty years younger than he should have been, and they were heading to Oregon, where she was determined to fix everything . . .

. . . she was filled with rage at this stupid unicorn who had made her feel so small and ashamed, and without thinking she swung a punch . . .

. . . she was playing mini golf with Pacifica and Dipper, but they weren’t competing, they were just talking and enjoying each other’s presence . . .

The view of a busy city street under a darkening sky swam into view, and Mabel stepped into a crowd of pedestrians. No one looked twice at the portal which had appeared in the wall of a café.

“Mabel, don’t do that,” said Ford frantically as he and Addi came through after her.

“You need to wait for us, honey,” Addi said, equally exasperated.

“Sorry.” Mabel said meekly. She remembered Ford trying to impress upon her on more than one occasion the dangers of feeling invincible or assuming she was safe – although personally she felt he was understating himself: she should be able to feel safe with the people who kept her safe, after all.

“Do you know where we are? Do you recognise anyone?” she directed at Addi eagerly, looking forward to meeting more of her friends.

Addi examined their surroundings as best she could. She’d said things still seemed a bit blurry, but Ford had reassured them both that if balance problems and some fuzziness was all that was wrong, she would be fine after some rest.

A grin broke across Addi’s face, which was encouraging, but then it faltered. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Ford’s expression turned grim. “Bad-”

“GOOD!” said Mabel desperately. “And, if it’s possible, can we avoid the bad completely?”

Addi sighed. “Well I know where we are, and who we’re going to see. It’s getting to them that’s the problem,”

⃝

“This is definitely a problem,” Ford agreed, shifting his hold on Addi and looking at the security checkpoint that barricaded the way into the central business district of the city. Guards worked their way through the crowd, asking for identification or proof of residence. They distributed out clear cards that would let them pass through the forcefield across the street.

“Why is the security here so tight?” breathed Mabel.

“Because this city is the nerve centre of Wikert Expansion Enterprises,” said Addi wearily.

Ford turned to her incredulously. “This again?!”

“I’m sorry, I forgot I gave a locator to someone who lived here. I will definitely be taking it back,”

“What happens if we get caught?” asked Mabel. As an answer there was a sudden flurry of movement near the front of the crowd, and it was clear someone was attempting to force their way past a guard. The guard pulled out a baton and shocked them with it, blue electricity flickering across the person violently. Then they were shocked again. And again. And once more – for luck, Ford supposed.

“Oh,” said Mabel in a small voice.

“Alright,” Ford said, running a hand through his hair. He had been in worse situations, he could figure something out. “I’ll cause a distraction while you two go over to one of the guards and get the cards off him-”

“And what then? How are you going to get through?” asked Add, glaring.

“I’ll catch up-”

“No, they’ll catch you. How about I try to find another way in-”

“Addi, you have a concussion, and you know that all the entrances will have checkpoints exactly like this one,”

“We don’t know that for sure – some might have more security,”

Ford was not sure if she was more injured than she was letting on, or if she was joking to lighten the mood, or if she was trying to ameliorate their argument, but it was not working, and it was not funny.

“You are not going to allow them any more opportunities to discover you than necessary,” he said firmly.

“And you’re not going to try needlessly giving yourself up,” she said, just as stubbornly.

They frowned at each other huffily, Ford feeling simultaneously touched at her strong reaction to his idea, worried about her readiness to risk her exposure as a former resistance member, and annoyed at how quickly she had shut him down.

“Well it looks like we have no more ideas, then,” he said finally.

“AHEM,” said Mabel loudly. “I notice you haven’t consulted me yet, and I happen to be a very persuasive liar. I think I can get us through with no trouble at-”

“Identification please,” said a bored voice.

Dread filled Ford’s stomach as they faced the guard. While he and Adeline were still thinking furiously of a way out, Mabel stepped forward.

“Actually sir, we are so sorry to be any trouble, but as you can note from our ragged clothing and eyes haunted from the horrors we’ve seen, we are refugees fleeing from desolation and despair. My own mother has sustained a serious head injury!” Mabel was wide-eyed and her voice was tragic. Both he and Addi were frozen, not daring to do anything more than glance at each other. They were certain the guard would pull out his baton at any moment.

“Our relatives have courageously offered to take us in, but because of the, y’know, desolation and despair, we had to leave so quickly that we couldn’t take anything! Not even-” tears began to prick at her eyes, “-poor old Roger, our cat! So if you could please-”

“Yeah kid, I’m sorry, but there’s others waiting.” Surprisingly, there was a trace of sympathy in his single eye. “Just show me your arm and you can go on through,”

Mabel faltered. “Um, my – my arm?”

“Yep,”

Shit. The refugee processing system here must tattoo the people who make it through. Ford had encountered that method of tagging in several dimensions. It made it much harder to fake residency.

The guard grew impatient with Mabel’s hesitancy and seized her arm himself. Addi’s hand shot out and pulled Mabel back against her, while Ford reached for his gun. The guard had already pushed Mabel’s sleeve up, however, revealing . . . not the incriminatingly blank patch of skin that Ford had expected, but a strange, whorling scar on the inside of her arm, where one might stick an IV.

The guard nodded. “A successful blood synthesisation and transfusion against the virus only Wikert Expansion Enterprises has managed to develop a cure for. We get a lot of refugees in your situation, and this is an easy way to prove they’re residents, not spies. You two her parents?” he asked Addi and Ford.

“Yes!” Addi said, quickly and much louder than normal.

“Feel free to go on through,” he handed over the cards.

“You’re not going to check us, too?” Ford said, before he could stop himself. Addi stomped on his foot.

“Nope. You’ve all gone through the same thing, and have obviously had a hard enough time already. I own a cat myself,” the guard said compassionately, and sniffed. And that appeared to be that.

As they passed through the forcefield and walked out of view, Addi and Mabel started laughing hysterically, and Ford chuckled a little himself.

⃝

Addi knocked on the door. It opened.

“HIIIII KOT!” beamed Mabel.

It was difficult to discern expressions on the octopus-being’s face, but Addi thought Kot seemed very surprised. They recovered quickly, however.

“Marks. Mabel. And you brought the rude one,”

“Can we come in?” Addi asked, ignoring Ford’s sigh.

Kot rolled all six of their eyes and stood aside to let them pass.  

“Thank you,”

“So,” Kot said, once they were seated in a very humid living room (which was Kot’s species’ preferred climate, Addi remembered), “I heard Wesley was after you guys. Which makes it pretty strange you’re here, visiting someone who works for him.”

Addi felt Ford tense beside her, and she did the same, but she managed to reply in a steady voice.

“Well, we needed a place to stay, and you know my portal beacon works on a randomiser that I’ve never been able to fix,”

“Oh, so you’re here by accident,”

“Yes,” Addi had assumed Kot would be more than willing to help them lie low for a while. Unfortunately, it was not looking that way. Too late, she remembered that when Kot had abandoned Wikert and joined the resistance, they had done so with all their being, and their undivided loyalty had proved invaluable. That loyalty was to the resistance, not friends, Addi realised.

There was a silence, during which Mabel fiddled anxiously with Addi’s sleeve.

“Adeline has a concussion.” Ford said suddenly. “Would you mind taking a look?”

Kot nodded shortly. As they examined her head, they said, “I assume this is from Wesley’s strike group? I heard he was sending Netessa after you,”

Addi hummed an affirmative.

“I’m glad you’re okay,”

The quiet admission caused Addi to sigh in relief. Everything was fine. Kot wasn’t suddenly going to start attacking them. She had just been winding herself up.

Eventually Kot deemed the injury was just as Ford had said: nothing a few hours rest wouldn’t fix, and they gave her some medication to help.

Addi downed it in one. Kot stared in what looked like disbelief.

“What?”

“You’re really not cautious enough,”

“I have a concussion, I think I can be forgiven,” Addi pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s going to knock you out,”

“Yes?”

“. . . you realise I’ve told Wesley you’re here, right?”

“What?!” Addi and her friends exclaimed together.

“But you said we could stay!” protested Mabel.

“No, you assumed you could. Quite rudely, actually,” Kot crossed several of their tentacles irritably.

“But you treated Addi!” Ford said angrily.

“You just gave me some drugs!” Addi said at the same time.

“Oh, so you think that just because I care about your well-being I’m not going to set a murderous resistance on you? Huh. Narrow-minded, much,”

Mabel booed, Ford stood up, and Addi tried to as well, but suddenly her legs weren’t obeying her and she flopped face-down onto a pillow. “Great,” she grunted into it.

She felt Ford pick her up and start heading for the door. “Wait, wait a minute!” she motioned for him to turn back around so she could address Kot. He reluctantly did so, and her hair fell over her face.

“You-! Mabel can you please . . . thanks.” Mabel brushed the hair away. “You are a terrible friend!”

“I’m not stopping you from leaving, am I?”

“Shut your mouth – wherever it is!” snapped Mabel, and pushed Ford towards the door. They had to leave before resisters arrived.

⃝

Once they were several streets away, Mabel asked, “What do we do now?”

“Well, it’s clear Wesley’s not going to stop coming after us, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think we should trust any more of your friends,” Ford said to Addi.

Addi agreed, feeling herself starting to lose consciousness. “You know what the only thing that can stop the resistance is, don’t you?” she asked unenthusiastically.

Ford nodded tiredly. “Yes. Wikert Expansion Enterprises,”

“Oh boy,” Mabel breathed, and they stood there for a moment, soaking in the realisation.

“Well, I think I can convince them to help! I’ve got all this information on Wesley, after all,” Addi said brightly.

“What? No.” Ford said sharply. “We just agreed an hour ago not to give ourselves up!”

“No,” Addi corrected sweetly, “we agreed that you wouldn’t be giving yourself up,”

“And that you wouldn’t-” Ford started, but Addi kissed him and he shut up.

The last thing she heard before passing out was Mabel asking if they were going to sleep in an alley again.

⃝

“Help! Help, please help!” cried Mabel as she frantically ran up to a security guard in the enormous lobby of Wikert Expansion Enterprise’s main building. She grabbed their arm and started to pull on it.

“What’s wrong, child?”

“Please, it’s my mom, something happened, I don’t know what, she just collapsed-”

The guard looked around for someone to take their post in front of the tech service elevator, but in the early hours of the morning the entire lobby was deserted.

“Show me where she is,”

Mabel led them away, noting with satisfaction a dark shadow which slipped silently out of hiding and entered the elevator.

“She’s right here,” they rounded a massive pillar extending up to the arched ceiling and she pointed to where Addi was slumped against it. The guard knelt down to check her breathing and heart rate, their feelers quivering with sensitivity.

“She seems to be fine. Perhaps she fainted. Have you both been receiving enough fluids and nutrition?”

“Well, we’re refugees, we’re still kinda sorting out our situation-”

“I understand. May I see your arm?”

This was the part she had anticipated. Mabel confidently and obligingly pulled back her layers of clothing to reveal the swirly scar. It was quite pretty in the daylight.

The guarded nodded and then accepted Mabel’s quick lie that Addi had one too. “I can take you up to one of the offices upstairs while she recovers if you like?”

“Please, yes, thank you so much!”

The office they found themselves in was by no means the grandest in the place. Mabel hoped their plan was still going to work, as she couldn’t exactly demand to be left alone in the office of Wikert herself, or anyone even close to her level.

The guard gave them a couple glasses of water, then left. As soon as the door closed, Addi sat up on the couch and winked at her. The drugs had worn off hours ago.

“Good job, kiddo. Say hi to Ford,” she waved at the security lens in the corner of the ceiling, Mabel following suit.

“He should be sending a message to whoever’s office this is right?”

“About an urgent resistance matter requiring their attention,”

“Well hopefully they’ve got some jurisdiction on this, otherwise we might be arrested, haha,”

The wait was rather quiet after that.

⃝

The door slammed open and a very frazzled-looking otter person bounded in. He stiffened when he saw them, and closed the door slowly, obviously thinking furiously.

“Calling security isn’t a good idea,” warned Addi, shifting slightly so he could see Big Bertha. Mabel was impressed that the only sign he gave of fear was a widening of his eyes.

“Adeline Marks,” he said.

“You know who I am?”

He snorted. “Of course I do. I’ve been the director of operations on everything related to resistance cell 736 for years. Or I was, until all our information on it vanished a few days and I was severely demoted. I assume that was your doing?” he said sourly.

“What a coincidence,” Addi said breezily (while Mabel quietly half freaked out and half rejoiced), “because that’s exactly what I’m here to offer you back. It looks like the multiverse is on your side today, my friend.”

The otter-man’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you give that up? You’ve just succeeded in erasing it all,”

“The leader of that particular resistance cell – I call him Wesley, but his real name is-” Addi gestured gracefully to Mabel, who took the cue and growled expertly, “-that, and he’s part of a species known as polarions – did you know any of that? No? Well anyway, he and I had a falling out.”

“He’s trying to kill us now,” Mabel put in.

“We’d like him to stop,”

“And this is where I come in?” the otter-man said, walking slowly over to his desk and sitting down behind it, as though this was any other business meeting.

“Uh huh. As I’ve already demonstrated, I have a lot of information that you don’t and, in fact, never did. Part of that is the dimension and location of RC736’s main headquarters. I can give that to you,”

There was a definite spark of greed in the man’s eyes now. Mabel could practically see his visions of glory and triumph, reinstatement and reward, as he was hailed for taking down a resistance cell.

“Alright. You have a deal. Call me Lic,”

“Wee and lick. This place sure is good with names,” Mabel muttered.

The door opened again and Ford came through.

Lic’s jaw dropped. “Stanford Pines?”

Ford kept his hand on the doorhandle. “Yes?” he answered guardedly.

This can’t be good, Mabel thought.

Lic’s eyes turned to her. “And you must be Mabel Pines, then,”

Definitely not good.

“How do you know that?” Ford demanded.

“Well, you are near the top of the interdimensional most-wanted list.” retorted Lic. “The bounty on you was just increased because of that girl.” He nodded to Mabel. “Bill Cipher’s offering extra if she’s captured or killed along with you.”

Addi immediately backed away, putting one hand on her sword and stepping in front of Mabel. Ford didn’t bother with warnings and aimed his gun directly at Lic’s forehead.

“Whoa, whoa, relax, I’m not going to hand you over! Wikert herself has made it very clear that she has no interest in dealing with that dream demon. This company stands for order and control, not chaos and destruction!”

No one relaxed. It might have been because that spark of greed was still shining in Lic’s eye.

“How about this: I’ll bring down RC736 for you, and in return Stanford Pines, certified genius in almost every dimension, can come work for us. Anonymously, of course. Your mind would be a very valuable asset,”

“You’re already going to reap the rewards of taking down the cell, I don’t think you need much else,” said Addi.

“Who needs the resistance off their back more, Marks? It’s not my life that’s on the line. I’m going to need some extra incentive now that I know how much you can deliver on,”

“Adeline-” Ford started.

“What about me?” interrupted Addi. “You’ve got loads of geniuses working for you, but how many resisters do you have?”

“Addi, no!” burst out Mabel.

“How many resisters as important as me?”

Mabel felt as though everything was unravelling around her, the way she’d sometimes pull at a loose string on a sweater until it was completely undone. She couldn’t believe Addi was doing this! She wanted to shove the bracelet she had made in her face and force her to adhere to the things she had in mind when she made it.

“See, the problem with that is you’re not going to be much use after RC736 is gone,” Lic continued, like the other two didn’t exist.

“I worked with the resistance for five years. Do you honestly think I didn’t have dealings with at least a quarter of the cells? That’s about two hundred and fifty independent syndicates. I have information you can’t even begin to imagine,”

Lic grinned, showing sharp teeth. “You make a fair point. Alright, you win. We have a new deal,”

“Adeline!” Ford holstered his gun and strode towards her, seizing her arm. “Excuse us.” he said curtly to Lic, and Mabel followed them into the adjoining storage room. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

Addi glared and pulled away from him. “Exactly what you were prepared to do a second ago, you hypocrite,”

“I’m not going to let you be trapped here-”

“Stanford, I’m not actually going to go through with this!”

There was silence. Then Mabel said, “You’re not?”

“Of course not!” A disbelieving grin spread across Addi’s face. “Your reactions made it very convincing, though,”

Mabel laughed and hugged her tightly. Ford wordlessly followed.

“That was very well done,” he said soon enough, relief apparent in every syllable.

“All according to plan,” she replied warmly, giving him a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, you two,”

When they headed back into the room, Lic was already making preparations.

“All sorted out then? Good. Now this base you want us to attack, do you know how many resisters are going to be there?”

Addi hesitated, then shook her head. “They move in and out of it all the time, so there could be anywhere from thirty to two hundred inside. The only thing I can guarantee is that Wesley will be there. He never leaves, unless for a major operation, and I would have heard about it if there was one being planned – they take weeks to prepare,”

“Unfortunately, if we don’t have an approximate figure, we can’t make a move. We value our personnel. There is an upside though-”

“You don’t value us?” predicted Ford.

“Got in one. Don’t worry, I don’t want you to take control of the place yourself, I just want you to get inside and get us a number. We’ll scramble a force and handle it from there,” he beamed at them.

“Yeah that sounds about right,” said Mabel glumly. Right in keeping with the usual load the multiverse dumped on them.