#also then I am dead and therefore do no need cheese

[stormofneurosis]

Yeah, but there's cheap cheese!

white people walk in front of this and a trapdoor immediately opens up dropping them into the Rancor pit

[sixeyesgojo]

Pictures of You

Summary: prequel to I’ll Be Your Enemy - fluffy!

Characters: IBYE!Reader, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara

Word count: 2,3k

Content warning: none

A/N: requested by @thecaptainsbride

If anybody got the reference Gojo made when he was late; congratulations, you have been successfully hurt (but this time it was not me).

Since I left the relationship between Gojo and the reader up for interpretation in IBYE, I will do the same here! Consider this piece me trying to mend your hearts <3

Taglist applications open for anyone who is interested!

“A trip to an amusement park or something like that doesn’t sound so bad,” you mused in front of Satoru. “It serves as relaxation and maybe the first-years can get closer to each other, you know, bonding and so on. They will see each other many times from now on, so getting along with each other is important,” you reasoned, your eyes almost sparkling from the thought of a day off.

“But Jujutsu Sorcery is an individual–” he began.

“Satoru, I think you should see this as vacation. A vacation where you can eat sweets until your teeth rot and absolutely nobody will hold you back,” you interrupted him.

“Okay, I am sold. Am listening now.” You just knew how to convince him. Sweets.

So that was exactly how the first-year students and you ended up at a fairground somewhere in Tokyo; it was quite neat, not too small but not too spacious either. None of you could get lost in it. Still, it was buzzing with life and all kinds of people mingled. The colorfulness was a refreshing sight to take in, compared to the dark world of Jujutsu Sorcery where seeing people suffer was your daily routine. The pleasant smell of food wafted through the air, making your mouth water, as you walked past the different booths with them. Waffles sounded like absolute heaven on earth right now.

Jujutsu Sorcery certainly was a draining sport, mentally as well as physically. Therefore it was only right to take a break at times, right? Self-care days were just as important as working.

In order to wind down a bit, you had suggested a one-day trip – just you, Satoru and the three first-year students you had adopted in your mind right away after meeting them several times.

“Sensei, you look very pretty today!” Yuji complimented you. Even Megumi noticed: “Did you have a haircut? Your hair seems a little bit shorter.”

“Yeah, Nobara had a field day with me. Cutting my hair.. or more like trimming the ends, choosing my outfit, doing my make-up and so on just for today,” you gushed as if you were a high school girl again. “Leave it to master stylist Kugisaki Nobara and nobody will ever look bad,” the brunette girl commended herself. Yuji was affectionately patting her on the back.

Undoubtedly, Satoru was late – nobody was surprised about that. You already went ahead and generously treated the trio of students you loved dearly to some food.

“Thank you for the food, sensei!” As usual, Yuji and Nobara were in perfect harmony with each other, seemingly sharing a brain.

“Thank you very much,” Megumi also expressed his thanks sweetly. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought the way his lips seemed to twitch was unintentional. “Absolutely no problem, kiddos. You guys enjoy it while I try to contact Gojo-sensei, yeah?” you shot them an apologetic smile, already fishing out your phone. The three of them nodded in perfect synchronization. They’re as cute as little ducklings, you thought.

You didn’t even need to bother calling.

You were about to dial Satoru’s number on your smartphone when Yuji’s voice boomed, “Oh! There he is! Gojo-sensei, we are here!!”

The boy waved at his teacher.

Satoru immediately spotted the pink-haired student and skipped over to where you all were standing. “Sorry for the wait! I’m afraid I got lost on the path of life!!”

“Nice of you to finally join us, but sadly, the fun is already over and we decided to go home. Just wanted to call you to let you know! We’ve been here since morning,” you deadpanned as the white-haired man arrived, looking Satoru dead in the eye – if they weren’t covered. “Wait, wha– Hold on, I am very sure I am not that late. MY MOCHI?” Satoru sounded frantic, facing his students who just shrugged their shoulders. “Serves you right,” Megumi stated calmly. Nobara, being the sassy girl she was, also joined in, “Losers don’t get to have fun and that’s a fact.”

It was such a wholesome and funny moment for you to see the students playing along with your prank without being told beforehand.

You broke out in laughter, not being able to contain it any longer, “You should have seen your face, dumbass! I was just joking!”

“Phew, I almost thought I had to kiss the idea of eating sweets today goodbye. What a horror that would be, my day would be OVER this instant,” the blindfolded man pouted, “so where should I buy my sweets? I’m gonna buy the entire place anyway, but where do I start? Any suggestions for Great Teacher Gojo?”

“Hold up, Satoru! We gotta take a picture together to commemorate this special day!” you suggested, bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. “I swear I just saw sensei’s eyes sparkle but I might be wrong,” Yuji remarked, looking at his dark-haired friend for confirmation.

“Sensei, if you want to take a picture, we have to take it at the right angle!” Nobara chimed in, the secret Instagram influencer in her on full display. She continued to explain, “It would come out great if Gojo-sensei took the pic, long arms privilege and so on.”

The female student almost seemed more into it than you were, it was adorable to you to see the usually bold student be this into taking pictures.

You hand the tall man your phone, but not without shooting him a “if you drop my phone, I’ll make you drop dead” look.

“Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” the male teacher commanded loudly. Upon hearing that, Megumi immediately slapped his hand in his face and turned away in embarrassment. Why was this man like this?

“...Ladies?” Yuji asked, the expression on his face screaming ‘confusion’ “Gojo-sensei just referenced a Beyoncé song, Itadori,” the dark-haired boy explained in a hushed tone, turning back slightly as if he did not want to get caught.

“And it’s not just any song!” Satoru happily chimed in. “Yes, yes, the good old Formation,” you added, nodding in satisfaction. You remember how you showed him the album when it dropped.

“Can we all just ignore Gojo-sensei and take our pic?” Nobara inquired as she shoved everybody into their respective spots. “Alright, everybody, smiiiiile for the camera. Say cheese!”

Click, click, click, click.

Finally, Satoru had gotten his share of sweets. Complying with his sweet tooth was always an effective way to calm him for some time. Almost like feeding a baby, in a way.

Now it was time for fun rides!

...or at least that was what you thought… until Satoru dragged you along to ride a freaking pendulum ride with him. The three students had managed to talk themselves out of stepping foot on that monster of a ride but Satoru didn’t even give you a chance to refuse, he simply gripped your arm and walked towards it.

Stopping only when you were already standing in line, you nervously eyed the metallic behemoth with its iron arm. The monstrosity was seemingly ready to make you throw up from the way it would spin you through the air repeatedly, going back and forth and back and forth again. Why did you have to do this?

“Satoru,” you called his name timidly and tugged at his sleeve, the strange feeling not leaving your gut, “do I really, really have to do this?”

“Absolutely! I promise it will be very fun,” Satoru replied with a signature grin you wanted to wipe off of his face at that moment.

No, it was not fun. At all. You were dizzy and your fear of height was kicking. The blasts of air hitting your face left, right and center were not helping at all and you were sure, if anybody took a picture of you right now, you would look horribly green.

“I– can’t do this anymore!” you shouted mid-air, right before the ride swung to the other side. The force knocked the air out of you once again.

“SATORU, PLEASE GET US OUT OF HERE!” you begged and squeezed his arm with an iron grip. The height was too overwhelming. “Mid-ride?” Satoru asked and you nodded frantically. “Now that’s what I call reckless! Sounds like fun. I’m in!” he declared with a grin.

“Domain Expansion: Infinite Void.”

That was the last thing you heard the tall man say before he touched your head with his large palm.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized this man used his domain this recklessly, for fun. Maybe it was a side effect of being able to use it multiple times a day.

The infinity gently wrapped itself around Satoru and you. Almost movie-like, you watched as the entire, vast universe beautifully unfolded in front of your eyes. Each star being created separately, then abruptly flashing by as a sea of stars – as if you were in a wormhole. You perceived the entire domain within a flash of a moment, yet tasted eternity in it. Everything but nothing at once.

Despite being touched by Satoru himself, the sensations weren’t without merit. If this was how it felt to be in the safe space of Satoru’s touch within his inner world of Limitless, you would rather not fathom how it felt to be the one hit by this powerful domain.

It took you some time to process things and recollect.

“When I said I wanted you to get the two of us out of that thing, I didn’t mean ‘send me to your domain’,” you scolded him.

“Well, it was convenient,” he defended himself and you could almost hear the grin on his face, “Bet you’ll hate me after this though.”

“Hating you was never really an option I’d ever consider but okay, we’ll run with it this time. Now undo your domain, please, while I am asking nicely.”

“Your wish is my command! This time at least.”

“Satoru.” A stern last warning fell from your lips.

“Yes, yes, boss. On it.”

“I thought you said it’ll be fun but I am absolutely not riding that thing ever again,” you took deep breaths to calm down as your feet securely touched the ground again. Your legs were still trembling a bit.

“And it was fun! At least for me! I like seeing you struggle – it’s so funny – and the way you clung to my arm? Adorable! You are so tiny compared to me, like a bug I could crush between my fingers!” The annoying sorcerer laughed merrily.

“Gojo fucking Satoru, the only thing that is about to be crushed here are your balls. With my leg. You are very lucky to have that damn Infinity of yours or else,” you threatened.

“Ouch, you really do know how to hurt an invincible man,” he snickered and flicked your forehead lightly.

Rejoining with the students was easy as they all saw the barrier Satoru’s domain created.

“You are lucky there was some kind of show going on down here. That barrier above would have freaked people out if they weren’t distracted,” Nobara said, looks shooting daggers at her weird teacher. Innocent and as nice as ever, Yuji pitched in as well: “Yeah, Fushiguro also tried to distract children with their wandering eyes! I think he did a good job.”

“Okay but what did he do though?” you asked curiously and looked at the boy in question.

“...Shadow puppets,” Megumi slowly admitted, looking anywhere but at the people in front of him.

“Oh? You love your foster-dad-turned-great-teacher this much to embarrass yourself out in public? That’s new!” Satoru teased the poor boy. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here or you’d all be in jail. That includes preventing civilians who are able to see curses from seeing you use Jujutsu while floating mid-air,” he justified, ignoring the tall teacher’s mockery completely. 

“As much as I love slandering Gojo-sensei, I’d rather spend my day actually having fun,” Nobara pitched in, reminding everybody of why you were here in the first place.

“So, let’s go ride the ferris wheel!” she added excitedly.

More fun rides.

Before you knew it, the day passed by. You could already feel the heaviness in your legs from walking. The swirling feeling from all the rides boded in your chest – you probably would not be able to sleep well tonight. It was definitely worth it though, you thought.

You had already brought the students back to their dorm – Satoru had ran off to the school because he remembered he had to do something – and were on the way home yourself.

You were in some sort of trance, completely immersed in your phone, so you hadn’t registered when Satoru called your name until he gently tapped your shoulder, falling into step with you.

“Yeah?” you looked up to Satoru, snapping out of your train of thought.

“Just wanted to tell you; ‘Operation: Relaxation Day’ was a great success.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Satoru.” A genuine smile graced your lips and for a moment, he softened at the sight.

“You know what? It was amazing, I really should start listening to you more often,” he confessed with a smirk.

“Well, it’s thanks to your amazing power of persuasion that we got to spend it like this, so thanks for today,” you half-heartedly complimented him.

“You do know I only said we’d not be available today and then dashed, right?” he asked you, the usual playful tone lacing his voice. “Exactly what I meant by saying ‘your amazing power of persuasion’.”

“I think I’ll frame the picture we took,” you murmured softly, fondly looking at the screen of your phone. The picture from earlier was displayed on your homescreen.

Surely, you would hang it on the blank wall in your home as well. It was a personal treasure now.

Taglist (dm me if you wanna be added): @assbuttbaek​ @megumifushi​ @bleueluna​ @gojos-mochi​ @delammi

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Tis a Wild Universe - 4

Warning: Self Insert and artistic liberties!

Yes, this is probably a dead/dying fandom, but I will never let it go. So yeah … I am probably talking to a wall with this fic. Which is fine by me, as long as I can talk.

Charley’s cousin is in dire need of some help, which the bro’s are willing to provide. Especially Modo develops the feels for her. Limburger is interested in the girl for entirely other reasons, especially in using her against our Hero’s.

But eventually Limburger and also the bro’s go back to Mars, taking along two human women and a few plant species to revitalize the red planet. The war wages on and it seems Throttle is finally taking his role at the helm of the ship.

Ch 1 - Finns That Reach Far

Ch 2 - The Reek of Cheese Ch 3 - Poison Tadpoles

Ch 4 - It’s the End of the Beginning

The rest of the week flies by as if propelled by a Martian speedrocket. Tessa becomes anxious. The mice can’t blame her. What if Limburger wins the court case!?!

The Mice dress up for court again. Charley wears a blue blouse and a black skirt. Tessa, to emulate an innocent aura puts on a white pencil skirt and a lime green blouse. She takes out all her piercings and even puts on a little mascara. “Well, do I look like a good girl?” She spins a circle for the mice. “A bit too innocent for my taste.” Vinnie says. “I do like the skirt.” Throttle says with a husky chuckle. “Yeah, those hips don’t lie.” Modo smirks. Tessa blushes a little.

Everyone is really silent during the drive to the court house. Modo keeps turning in the passenger's seat to look at Tessa. It feels as if this is the last time they will see each other.

Once in the courthouse, a clerk informs the Mice that Limburger requested they not enter the courtroom. “We are here to support our friend, we have all the right.” Throttle replies calmly. The clerk looks rather helpless, but doesn’t want to cross these three helmeted muscular individuals. Tessa heads into the courtroom. Charley and the mice follow her in.

Limburger spots the mice and his face sours considerably. “I thought I ordered you to keep those repulsive rodents out of here!” He shouts. “Sorry, Mister Limburger, but the law of this land states that we are allowed to support our friend, unless the judge himself orders us out of the courtroom.” Throttle says in his most charming tone of voice. Limburger looks like he wants to murder the tan furred leader right then and there. Throttle knows exactly the effect his words have. He chuckled huskily.

“We’ll be here, be brave.” He tells Tessa. Modo leans in to kiss the werewolf on her forehead. “Thanks.” She whispers. The clerk leads her to the stand. The mice and Charley sit down behind her.

The judge is a different one. He calls for order with a firm voice.

“After careful deliberation and testing from the forensic lab, we have concluded that the species of Wolfsbane Miss Lockheart is only toxic in high dosages and is used medicinally in China. Therefore her purchase of this plant is not illegal and no cause for further investigation.” The judge cuts right to the chase. Limburger and Syl look as though they have just been forced to eat something disgusting. The Mice exchange a grin.

“But your honour, she was on the Black Market.” Syl protests. “Visiting the Black Market is not illegal.” The Judge says strictly. “I demand a mental evaluation!” Syl screeches. “The court sees no reason to.” The Judge dismisses her. “Lawrence Limburger will be denied custody. Miss Lockheart is a legal adult! Case dismissed!” The Judge says loudly.

Cheering, the Mice leap over the railing of their seats. Modo takes Tessa by her hips and spins her around. “That went eerily quickly.” Throttle says. “I think the Judge just wanted to be done with this rubbish.” Tessa says, while Modo puts her back down. He keeps one hand on her hip. Throttle gives him a bit of a strict look. “I think we ought to celebrate!” Vinnie says loudly. “I know just the place.” Tessa happily looks up at the mice and her aunt.

Outside the courthouse, however, Greasepit and Carbuncle are waiting. No Goons, fortunately.

Greasepit waits until they have passed them by and then reaches out. His oily hand closes around Tessa’s wrist. Tessa gives a startled yip. The mice whip around. “Let her go Greasegullet.” Modo aims for Greasepit’s head with the gun in his arm. “Not so fast mousey, if you shoot at me, I will take her down with me.” Greasepit grins. Modo lowers his arm.

He walks over to Greasepit. “Unhand her.” He says loudly. A few bystanders look at him over their shoulders. “What is the matter, mousey, too scared to shoot me?” Greasepit taunt. “I promised the ladies I’d not make a mess.” And with those words Modo raises his foot and punts Greasepit full on in the nuts. Whimpering Greasepit goes down, letting Tessa go. Modo puts hand on the small of Tessa’s back. Swiftly he leads her away from Greasepit, to the car.

Tessa navigates Charley to a cute little pub.

The five of them sit in a corner and the mice take off their helmets. “Now let me spoil you a little.” Tessa says. She goes over to the bar. She orders five bottles of Kopparberg ElderFlower and Lime. The bartender sets five bottles on the counter and opens them. Tessa has to do two walks to get the bottles to the table. Her hands are rather small and the bottles on the larger side and it would be an absolute sin to spill Kopparberg. “Hmm, what is this sweetheart?” Vinnie asks. “Cider.” Tessa sits down beside Modo. Throttle lifts a bottle to his beady little nose and smells. “Lime and … Something flowery.” He says. Charley holds up her own bottle and points at the label. “Elderflower, heh, okay.” Throttle says sheepishly. “This is with flowers?” Vinnie sounds almost disappointed. “Just try it bro.” Modo takes a swig. Tessa looks up at him expectantly. “Do you like it?” She asks softly. Modo nods. “I sure do.” He grins down on her. Tessa takes a swig from her own bottle. Throttle and Vinnie both try a tentative sip. “Yeah, it is good.” Throttle admits. “But.. but, flowers.” Vinnie’s ears droop. Throttle and Modo chuckle. “Such a dent to your ego.” Charley mocks.

Soon enough, Tessa retrieves a big plate of nachos with pulled pork. “No cheese, special for me boys.” She cooes. The mice dig in right away. Charley giggles behind her hand.

“So, will you come to Chicago with us?” Throttle asks gently. Tessa looks from the tan mouse, to her aunt, to the grey and last the white and then back to the tan mouse. “It would mean I’d leave behind everything here. The pack, my friends, the stables… The house I grew up in.” She mutters. “That much is true.” Throttle admits. “But you’d have us.” Modo looks down on the red haired woman. “Yeah, I’d have you.” Tessa nods. Her shoulders are tensely set. The last isn’t yet said about this. “Did you see Limburger’s face when he lost the case?” Vinnie tries to change the subject. “Yeah, that ought to teach him not to mess with anyone we care about.” Modo puffs his chest out. One of the buttons of his shirt decides to just entirely give up and pops off. It hits Vinnie square on the forehead. “Oops, sorry bro.” Modo chuckles. Throttle and Charley are laughing loudly, but Vinnie does not look amused. Tessa picks the button off the table. “I’ll sow it back on at home.” She puts it in her purse.

~

Once at home, the mice shed their shirts. Modo hands his to Tessa. His hand touches hers briefly. They exchange a bit of a grin. Tessa clutches the shirt and once Modo is turned away from her she brings it to her face and inhales his scent. “Buuuusted.” Vinnie singsongs. Tessa almost jumps out of her skin. “Don’t startle me like that.” She huffs. “No worries little red.” Vinnie winks and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “So, you into the big fella, huh?” He cooes. Tessa flusters darkly. “Bugger off.” She hisses. “Ooooh touchy.” Vinnie lets go of her and walks off, likely to tattle to Modo.

“I’m going to the shop!” Tessa says loudly. Modo, having put his chestguard back on, comes over to her. “Can I come?” He asks gently. “S-sure.” Tessa stutters. Tessa toes into her shoes and Modo puts on his boots. On foot they head out to the town center. It is only a ten minute walk. They walk in silence. A silence that wasn’t awkward before, but is now. Modo looks over to the young werewolf, but looks away when she looks up at him. His ears droop, a tiny bit. Tessa plays with the wolf head pendant on her necklace.

“How about bbq?” Tessa asks, bending over to grab a pack of ribs. She is still wearing her pencil skirt. Modo has to grit his back teeth not to grunt in appreciation of what it shows off. “Bbq sounds good.” He does his best to sound casual. Tessa puts some burgers, sausages and ribs into the shopping basket. “That is not enough.” Modo shakes his head. He grabs two more packs of sausages and one more pack of hamburger. “I am sort of surprised you three maintain that spartan physique.” Tessa remarks. “Martian Metabolism, princess.” Modo winks. “Big words.” Tessa sniggers. The two load their basket with everything Tessa judges they need for a nice bbq in the garden, plus a bit extra because Modo doesn’t think it will be enough.

On their way back home, Modo stops in his tracks. Tessa picks up on it after two steps and turns around to him. “What is the matter, luv?” She asks. Modo heaves a bit of a sigh and decides to get over himself and forgo what Vinnie and Throttle said to him a few days ago. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.” He says. “You mean, like a date?” Tessa asks. Modo nods. “Only if you want to.” He murrs. Tessa closes the distance between them. “I’d love to Modo.” She smiles up at him. “How about we go to the Zoo?” She suggests. “Sure, when?” He replies. “Tomorrow.” Is her determined answer.

~

“Hey bro, what are you grinning about?” Vinnie flops down beside Modo. The grey mouse is seated in one of the garden chairs, enjoying the sun, beaming back up at it. He turns to face his friend. “I am going on a date tomorrow.” He says casually. Vinnie gives him wide eyes. “What? Really?” His voice goes up at least two octaves. Modo grins widely and nods. “Tessa and I are going to the zoo tomorrow.” He replies. “You lucky mouse you.” Vinnie says. Throttle sits down with his bro’s. “What is going on? Keeping secrets from me?” He asks in a teasing tone. “Oh no not at all. You are perfectly welcome to know.” Modo answers. “Do tell, do tell.” Throttle reclines in his seat. “He’s going on a date with little red!” Vinnie shouts. Throttle draws up his brows. “Is that so?” He asks. Modo calmly nods. “Yup.” He replies. “You choose not to heed my advice?” Throttle sighs softly. “As much as I appreciate your advice, brother, I think I know what I am doing.” Modo replies gently. “You’re damn lucky, you know. It took me over a year and here we are, barely two weeks and you go ahead and Mr. Smooth yourself into a date.” Vinnie complains. Both Modo and Throttle laugh. “Like Martian Ladies, Vinnie, Terranian Ladies are all different, some take more work than others.” Modo says smugly. “Yeah and it does seem to me Modo works it a bit better.” Throttle admits. Vinnie gives the leader a miffed look. Modo sniggers to himself.

~

“Aunt Charley, I need to talk to you.” Tessa says. Charley looks at her niece. The two women are prepping for the bbq in the kitchen. It seemed wiser to them to keep the mice out of the kitchen. Their overeagerness wouldn’t be too safe in close proximity to knives and the stove. “Have you made a choice?” Charley asks. “Not yet… But tomorrow might change that.” Tessa mumbles. “Which is what I need your help with.” She looks at her hands. “Oh, do tell.” Charley comes over to her side of the counter. “I’m taking Modo to the Zoo tomorrow.” Tessa admits, flustered a little bit. “Already?” Charley sounds a bit alarmed. “It might be my only chance.” Tessa says. “Yeah, you are right.” Charley heaves a soft sigh. She realizes Tessa will likely not come along to Chicago. And how this is going to likely hurt Modo. “Sooo.. is that what you needed to talk to me about?” She asks. “I .. I wanted to know … What does Modo like?” Tessa mumbles. “Well, erm..” Charley makes a thoughtful face. “I think you should just be yourself. And wear skinny jeans.” She suggests. “That is no can’t do.” Tessa giggles.

Half an hour later the girls bring out the food.

All three mice are shirtless. Modo has already lit the bbq. “Are you hot shots ready for some grillin’.” Tessa says loudly. The bro’s turn to her, big grins on their muzzles. “We always are.” Vinnie says. “Welp, sit your tails down then.” Tessa puts the salad and the baguettes on the table and places the meats beside the grill. “No no, not today, you sit, we’ll do the grillin’.” Modo says. Tessa puts her hands up in surrender. “Sure sure, just make sure you don’t burn my ear of corn.” She cooes teasingly. “I won’t, I won’t, now sit.” Modo tells her. The girls sit down while the mice squabble over who gets to mind the grill. Throttle and Vinnie soon retake their seats. “Let the family man grill if he so pleases.” Throttle says wisely. Tessa and Charley giggle in unison.

Much more laughter follows. The evening is spent in the garden, grilling, drinking and basking in the sun until it sinks past the horizon. All the meat gets eaten, much to Tessa’s surprise. The Mice tell a great many tales of their escapades on Mars. Vinnie boasts of his prowess in about everything. Tessa believes only half of it. “Does that helmet fit on your swollen head, dear uncle.” She cooes. Vinnie gives her an annoyed look. Charley titters a giggle and runs her fingers over the fur under Vinnie’s chin. That takes the steam out of him for sure. He even seems to purr a little bit. “How about we get someone else’s perspective?” Tessa cooes. “Let Throttle tell the stories, he’s much better at it.” Modo says. Vinnie pouts a bit. “How he is supposed to make himself out to be the very best now.” Throttle sniggers. “Just get to it.” Vinnie huffs.

Throttle tells of Mars, of the war and of the great mice he knew. Tessa is especially interested in his relationship with Carbine. This seems to make Throttle a little bit shy, which is new. Throttle is not at all a shy mouse.

He misses Carbine. More than words may serve him to express. He knows his duty is to remove Limburger from Earth, but he can’t count the times that he has been ready to just leave it behind and go back to Mars. Carrying on a relationship when you are both on different planets is not easy. Throttle knows Carbine will be as loyal to him as he to her.

Martian Cave Mice are very loyal creatures. Family units will fight to the death to defend each other and partners bond for life. For Throttle there is no one but Carbine. There never was and there never will be in case she passes in the war. Throttle tries not to think of the possibility that she will be fatally harmed while he is away from Mars. Of course, Carbine is a strong woman and she knows how to hold her own in battle, but those scum fishes are something else.

It is even a small wonder Vinnie managed to lose his heart to Charley. It would have been just as likely that he would have never moved on from Harley.

Modo regales a few tales about Rimfire and his mother. Tessa hangs on his lips. Modo is quite flattered by this, so he tries to tell as much as he can. To keep her primed.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Tessa says, in a tone of voice that says she knows she will. Modo can’t help a wicked, wide grin. “That might take a while, but we’ll eventually get there.” He says. “Yeah or your ma is the next that crashes into the scoreboard.” Vinnie jokes. Throttle, Vinnie and Charley laugh loudly. Tessa gives the white martian a confused look.

“When we first landed in Chicago, we crashed our ship into the scoreboard of the baseball station.” Throttle explains. Tessa giggles. “I picture that.” She cooes. “Say, what did you do with that ship anyway?” She asks. “We stripped it for parts.” Throttle replies. “Such a pity, now we are, factually, without a ride home.” Modo sighs softly. Throttle puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find a way, big fella.” He says. “Something with some room for the girls too.” Vinnie agrees.

~~~

The next day, Modo tries to make something of himself. Tessa lends him some of her father’s clothes. Surprisingly they fit. They are kind of tight, but that somehow suits Modo. It makes him look a bit more befitting of polite British society, overlooking of course the fact that he is an extra-terrestrial mouse. Tessa is dressed in a colourful sundress and roman style sandals. Modo can’t help but stare. Tessa giggles, taking him by his hand. “Come on you, we have to catch our bus.” She says. Modo allows her to draw him down the stairs and out of the house.

They are only just in time for the bus. Tessa buys them both a retour fare.

Tessa shows her year pass and buys an extra ticket for Modo, with discount, of course.

“I know it is usual, here on Earth, that the man pays for at least the first date, but…” Modo makes a slightly nervous impression. Tessa shakes her head. “Oh no, Modo. Don’t say that, luv. You are a guest here, you are my guest. I have the home field advantage anyway.” She smiles up at him. Gently she takes his hand. “Come, let me show you around.” She says. Modo grins down on her, a playful, lopsided grin. Tessa happily laughs and tugs him along to the first enclosure. Small monkeys screech and hop around in the large cage.

Modo is very interested in Terranian fauna. And Tessa happens to know a lot about the animals at the zoo. She even knows the names of some of the animals. “Did you know this zoo is the only zoo in Europe that is licensed to keep Komodo Dragons.” Tessa informs Modo. “Dragons? I thought they were fictional.” Modo gives her a puzzled look. Tessa laughs loudly. “The Komodo Dragon is a type of lizard. Not an actual dragon. But the people who discovered them were very unfamiliar with such big lizards. And science was very rudimentary back then, so it is likely people at that time still believed in dragons.” Tessa explains. “Much like werewolves?” Modo retrotts. “Touché.” Tessa mumbles. She takes Modo to the Komodo Dragon enclosure. The large monitor lizards are lying about under their heat lamps. “Now these don’t really look like dragons.” Modo says. “They belong to the family of the monitor lizards.” Tessa explains.

Modo only lets go of Tessa’s hand once they sit down for lunch by the tiger’s enclosure. Tessa retrieves them two plates of chips. “Are you having fun?” She asks. Modo chuckles softly. “Are you kidding? I would have fun even if we were spending the day in your basement.” Modo answers. That causes Tessa to fluster. She turns her eyes to her plate. Modo gently cups his chin with thumb and forefinger, his metal touch raises gooseflesh on Tessa’s skin. Alas the sitting arrangement does not allow for anything else. He makes her look up at him. “You are hella cute when you blush.” He says softly. Tessa looks at his wrist rather than in his eye.

“My eyes are up here, Princess.” Modo says teasingly. Tessa’s eyes flick up. The blue is deep and Modo feels himself being sucked in again. It makes him a bit dizzy, he feels out of breath.

Modo leans over to close the distance. The kiss is clumsy. It has been a while since he had last had intimate contact with anyone, and never before with someone who is so anatomically different from him. Tessa does not pull away, though. She experimentally reciprocates. She is new to kissing martian cave mice in her turn. Modo breaks away too soon to her taste. She whines like a pup. Modo looks down on her, still a little bit dazed. “I … sorry… I didn’t mean..” He sputters. Tessa makes a shushing sound. She grabs him by the front of the shirt and draws him in for another kiss. Modo kisses back and seems to make some sort of purring sound inside his chest.

After lunch they continue their way through the zoo.

Tessa halts on a bridge beside open forest enclosures. She leans her elbows on the rail and gazes to the little platforms that Modo guesses it is for the animals that live in the enclosures. She whistles a very specific whistle. It reminds Modo a little bit of the tone he uses to summon his bike. It makes him wish he was back in Chicago.

A fluffy medium dog sized animal climbs up to the platform at top speed. “Heya buddy.” Tessa cooes. “What is that?” Modo frowns at the animal. It’s fluffy with black and white fur, in a pattern that could be called striped, in some stretch of the imagination. It has a long prehensile tail and muzzle that is mostly canine, but also somehow serpentine. “It is a striped Vari. A lemur, cousin to King Julian.” Tessa explains. “He sure looks more gnarly than King Julian.” Modo chuckles. “I like this one better than Julian. I bet he is much softer.” Tessa says.

~~~

“How do you think Modo’s doing?” Vinnie asks. “You can ask him yourself bro.” Throttle points. Modo and Tessa enter the garden. “Did you two lovebirds have fun?” Charley cooes. Tessa and Modo exchange a look and smile at each other. “It was wonderful.” Tessa says softly. Modo nods, still looking at her. “Come sit and tell us all about it.” Charley ushers them over to where Vinnie and Throttle sits. “Let me first get a drink.” Tessa protests a little. “I’ll do that, you two sit down.” Charley tells her. Modo and Tessa sit by the other two martians. “Tell us everything.” Vinnie all but demands. “I like Earth wildlife a lot better than Martian wildlife.” Modo says. No way he is actually going to spill the deets to Vinnie. “That is not what I am talking about!” Vinnie yells. “I know.” Modo says with a small smirk. “Had a good time, bro?” Throttle asks. He doesn’t pry, unlike Vincent. “Yeah, it was great.” Modo says. Charley puts two bottles of Koparberg down and flops down in her seat. Modo pulls the caps from the bottles with his cybernetic fingers. He hands Tessa one bottle and takes a swig from the other. “So are you two going to tell us anything?” Charley asks. Modo and Tessa exchange a look. “It was a lot of fun.” Tessa answers, putting her hand on Modo’s tight. Modo feels his face warm up and looks away.

“All good and well, but we have things to talk about.” Throttle says. “Going home.” Modo says. “To Chicago.” Throttle replies, in a tone that tells that The Windy City isn’t really his home. “Yeah, we can’t stay much longer.” Charley says. She has to go back to work and Limburger likely already went back to the US. Modo almost bodily turns to Tessa. “What will you do?” He asks gently. Tessa looks up at him and then looks to Charley, Throttle and Vinnie in turn. “You’d be safer with us.” Modo tries to advocate his case. “Hey! I can handle myself just fine.” Tessa sounds a little bit insulted. “Please, don’t underestimate the Plutarkians.” Throttle tells her gently. Tessa looks away, as though he has scolded her. Modo places two fingers under Tessa’s chin and makes her look up at her. “Princess, all we want is to know you safe. And the closer to us you are, the safer.” He murmurs. Tessa’s cheeks turn pink. “Now tell us, what will you do?” Throttle asks. Tessa worms away from Modo’s touch to look at the leader. Briefly her blue eyes become red. “I …” She bites her lip. The Mice tense up, leaning closer. Modo looms over her. His sole eye looks at her almost pleadingly. This causes Tessa to get stuck in a giggle fit.

“I am so sorry luv, you just look so pitiful.” She hides her mouth behind her hand and clutches her belly with her other. “We are still waiting for an answer!” Vinnie says, a bit loud. Tessa tries to get a hold of herself. “I am so sorry, I just..” Tessa says through a gale of giggles. Once she manages to compose herself, she smooths out her skirt and looks at her hands, which are in her lap still. “I … I’ll come..” She mumbles. “With us? To Chicago?” Modo sounds hopeful. “And whatever else you may go.” Tessa says. She looks up at him again.

He closes the distance. It is only a quick kiss. Vinnie whistles between his teeth. Throttle and Charley exchange a mildly worried look.

[gubgam]

Hi I’m a person on tumblr who just thinks they are smart- oh wait just kidding! I’m a microbiologist! And that shit do kill people, @teaboot is right. Here’s why for those who aren’t so sure, and more information to fight misinformation. Kindly direct anyone spreading it to this post.

—If you have OCD (like I do) and/or contamination issues (… like I do) this is a warning— but it might help you like it helped me

Ok I think this anon is coming from an understanding that when food spoils the texture or taste changes, or the organisms in it make you feel sick, at the worst, and your body deals with it. They are probably thinking of food poisoning, which happens because of toxins made by microbes that could be dead or alive (even if you kill them by heating or freezing, they already made the toxins and they still work unless it’s a small few like botulism toxin). Most people get food poisoning a few times a year, but overall usually the symptoms are so mild we don’t even know!

BUT this is what anon thinks happens ALL THE TIME. And it’s easy to see it that way. I have survived eating very moldy bread twice (on accident). My own extended family didn’t think mold was bad and have -to my horror- suggested just scraping mold off the top. The mold you see isn’t all the mold, the hyphae are in the whole thing, therefore the mycotoxins are in the whole thing. But, ingesting LESS toxins is better. I’m sure we can agree on that. When you can see that food has spoiled, there are a lot more microbes and therefore, a lot more toxins.

You can also get infections from microbes that have spoiled your food (food infection), you need to eat a high enough number of living ones to actually get infected. This is what cooking food thoroughly helps prevent, but doesn’t guarantee your food is germ free or will stay that way. But again, if your food is spoiled! There are lots and lots of cells! The risk of getting infected is way higher!

Cooking does kill some pathogens, which is why we do it. But not all. Some arrive later because meat is free food and has to decay somehow. The most lethal pathogen can arrive on meat from the environment this way and I will talk about it later.

If the organism eats meat, I am sorry to tell you this, but you are also meat.

Not all fermented/“spoiled” foods will kill you, sometimes we spoil food on purpose to make them last longer and to keep other organisms out, this happens with cheese. The same mold that covers Brie is ok to eat! If you see other molds it isn’t safe to assume they are and you can’t identify species by just lookin’ at em! Or smelling! Or whatever!

So numbers is the real game here, and the best way to see that *after* your food has already been prepared and stored right, is expiration dates (not ‘best by’ necessarily). Expiration dates are calculated by math. Early on there aren’t enough to get you sick but over time they grow and multiply (and some make more toxins!) so we use math to figure out when that most likely is. It’s not always exact and comes with that wiggle room to keep you safe. But if you see spoilage you KNOW that stuff is growing in there. Just don’t eat it.

—another warning: what is below is about worst case scenarios, if you have contamination issues don’t read this, it does NOT include helpful advice to anyone but anon and people who still don’t believe me—

People die from a pathogen that can contaminate meat after it is cooked and stored because it exists in a lot of places already. It is rare, but makes up the largest % of the annual fatalities. Keeping meat in the fridge does not prevent this bacteria from growing, so it will, and it likely reaches high enough numbers to infect you once you notice it is spoiled. In the intestine it can be carried by blood and lymph cells to other organs, especially the liver. From there, they can infect your central nervous system, grow inside your neurons and cause meningitis, where your brain and spinal chord swell until you die. Message me if you want to know the name of this example pathogen, but you can also google “lethal cases of food infection/poisoning” and you probably should anyway. They do exist and I hope you don’t spread misinformation again. (this is from ‘Brock Biology of Microorganisms’, 2015 pg 911, 912, 916 & 917. It can be found on the Internet Archive if you don’t want to buy the book like I did)

I'm aware that this is a pretty big blog, so I try to avoid putting people on blast- mostly cause I don't want anyone tracking folks down and dogpiling on them for the unforgivable sin of "being wrong about a thing",

Because we are all hilariously, ridiculously and unabashedly incorrect about things at times, and that doesn't deserve the embarrassment of a thousand jeering, judging strangers with their careless mockery and casual insults,

That being said

BITCH THAT SHIT DO KILLS PEOPLE

[willow-salix]

TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project,  @misssquidtracy​ . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing. 

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy​ ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it. 

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves. 

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?” 

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?” 

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly. 

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely. 

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs. 

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag. 

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk. 

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

 “Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.” 

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed. 

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table. 

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all. 

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly. 

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her. 

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign. 

"What did you do?" 

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?" 

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work. 

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought. 

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more. 

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?" 

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay. 

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room. 

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was  sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project. 

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him. 

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him. 

"What are you even doing?" 

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall. 

"Why?" 

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop. 

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best. 

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name. 

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay. 

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite. 

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance. 

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer. 

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite. 

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest. 

"So, what are you doing?" 

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting. 

"The same one?" 

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions. 

"Why?" 

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done. 

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned. 

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes. 

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile. 

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey." 

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon. 

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong. 

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him.  He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all. 

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

 He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there. 

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John. 

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to. 

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job. 

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand. 

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.” 

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all. 

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy.  Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect. 

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin. 

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!” 

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain. 

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?” 

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. 

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation. 

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted. 

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday. 

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed. 

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!" 

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed. 

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted. 

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding. 

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones. 

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time. 

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?" 

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper. 

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to  study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon. 

"A ship?" Gordon frowned. 

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see. 

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life. 

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience. 

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted. 

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together. 

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue. 

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

 “Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly. 

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room. 

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand. 

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?” 

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.” 

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to  ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there. 

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk. 

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him. 

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it. 

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him. 

“Never,” Gordon agreed. 

-x- 

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other. 

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father,  but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all. 

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body,  especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy. 

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole. 

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end. 

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time. 

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit  more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect. 

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered. 

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.” 

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer. 

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell. 

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat. 

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles. 

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary,  feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with. 

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John  and things had never been the same again. 

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and  admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Sneaking Around | Epilogue

Aelin was going to be in so much trouble.

She was supposed to be in the room where the prep for her wedding was taking place. Despite this, she had somehow ended up in the groom’s room with the skirt of her wedding dress pulled up around her waist. And the groom himself with his pants pulled down, fucking her mercilessly. Yep, her friends were going to kill her.

“Oh, Rowan, don’t stop. Oh gods. Fucking hell.”

Rowan chuckled as he pounded into her against the wall. “I think we’re supposed to be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone to know the groom saw the bride before the wedding.”

Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck, Ro, I’m so close. Release blasted through her. She had to bury her face in Rowan’s shoulder to muffle her moans.

He barely suppressed a groan as he came, spilling himself into her. Two years of dating and still neither could get enough.

Rowan pulled out of Aelin and disposed of the condom. He buttoned his pants as Aelin dropped her dress.

“Where are my panties?” Aelin asked. “Shit, do you see them, Ro?”

They looked around the room, to no avail. Rowan chuckled. “Looks like you’ll have to go without.”

Aelin scowled. “I am not getting married without underwear. Damn, I’m so late. They’re supposed to be doing my hair and makeup by now.”

“Just go. No one will know you’re not wearing underwear, and it will save me the trouble of taking them off later.” He was smirking.

Aelin punched him in the arm, hard. To his credit, he didn’t wince. “I fucking hate you.”

“So you tell me every day.” Rowan grinned.

Aelin frowned. “Ugh.” Then she ran out of the room, heels clicking on the tile, praying her friends wouldn’t notice the suspicious amount of time she’d been gone.

“Aelin, where have you been?” Lysandra hissed when she entered the bridal chamber. “I thought you were going to the bathroom.” So much for not noticing.

Ansel frowned. “Oh, honey, are you getting cold feet?”

“No, no,” Aelin said. “I just got lost.” She gestured vaguely.

Lys and Ansel were helping her get ready (or they had been anyway) and Fenrys was lounging in a chair, observing. He had claimed this room smelled nicer, leaving Rowan alone. Aelin just hadn’t been able to resist.

“How do you get lost in this place? The bathrooms are right across the hall.” Lys was frowning now too.

“Exactly,” Aelin declared. “And I didn’t know that, and ended up circling the whole building before I found it. Tragic, really.”

Fenrys snorted and Aelin shot him a glare. “Something to say, Moonbeam?”

He just grinned and looked her up and down, taking in her ruffled dress and flushed cheeks. “Not at all, darlin’.” Aelin scowled.

Lysandra sighed. “You couldn’t keep your clothes on for the rest of the day? Pathetic.”

Aelin glared hatefully at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just do my hair, please.”

Ansel snorted this time. “What are we, your maids?”

“I said please.”

Lysandra interjected. “Alright, we can shame her later. It’s time to get a move on.”

-

Aelin was properly beautified by the time she needed to walk down the aisle. Barely, though.

Aedion was charged with walking with her, their parents being dead and unable to give her away.

They were having a very small wedding. Other than Aedion, neither of the two had any living family and they didn’t want a bunch of people they barely knew witnessing this moment (or upping the cost of the buffet table). Aelin also didn’t want to slowly march down the aisle behind three of her friends like a parade, she claimed. She also hadn’t wanted to chose between her friends which would be bridesmaids. Therefore, she had none. Aelin had a knack for breaking traditions. And so Lys, Ansel, Fenrys, Manon, Elide, Gavriel, Connall, and Vaughan were all seated now. Lorcan was standing next to Rowan at the altar as best man.

Aelin strutted down the aisle, Aedion at her heels hissing to slow down. Finally, he gave up and seated himself, Aelin tossing a wink his way.

“Work that runway, girl,” Manon catcalled. Aelin smirked at her when she reached the altar next to Rowan, who was chuckling. Lorcan just snorted.

The priest started droning on about how they would be there for each other forever, but Aelin tuned him out and stared into Rowan’s eyes. They had decided against writing vows because they both knew what they meant to each other and told the other often enough. Also, Aelin didn’t want to try to put all the emotions she felt around him into words, all the love and happiness.

Rowan smirked at Aelin, probably recalling the fact that she was unclothed beneath her dress. She grinned back at him.

Someone cleared their throat. The priest. Aelin turned her head and let out a “Hm?”

“I said, Miss Galathynius, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Aelin said, “Oh, sorry, yeah. I mean, I do.” Snickers arose from their small audience. Yep, she was never going to live that down. She glanced back at Rowan, whose smirk had widened. Aelin scowled at him.

The priest repeated his words to Rowan, who said, “I do.” Damned bastard. He had been zoned out and staring at her too; why couldn’t the priest have asked him first?

The priest then declared they may kiss. Aelin immediately stepped forward, grabbed Rowan by the lapels, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. His hands found her waist, drawing out a couple of wolf-whistles from their friends. Aelin let go with one hand to flip them off without breaking the kiss.

After a minute, Aelin pulled back, grinning. Rowan smiled warmly at her. And just like that, they were married.

-

Rowan led Aelin to their apartment. It used to be his, but Aelin had moved in a while ago, drawing out a fuss from Ansel. As a peace offering, Aelin had coerced Fenrys to move in with Ansel. Perhaps not the best way to make a relationship more serious, but whatever.

They had the night together before leaving for their honeymoon the next morning. They were going to Switzerland for their honeymoon. They both agreed it was a beautiful place to stay. Fenrys had been especially supportive of the decision, claiming they could bring him some cheese. Aelin would have to check if that was legal.

Now, though, the newlyweds made it to the door. Aelin walked in after Rowan, kicking it closed behind her. “What should we do now, husband?” Aelin asked sweetly.

Rowan grinned back at her. He roughly pushed her against the door, pinning her hands beside her. “We should probably just go to sleep, wife. It’s been a long day, after all.”

Aelin smirked. “Good idea.” Neither of them moved. “Do you know what it’s like walking around in a breathable dress and no panties? I felt every draft.”

Rowan burst into laughter. “I’m so terribly sorry.” He pressed his lips to her neck, sucking gently. Rowan’s knee came up, parting her legs, then pressing into her center.

Aelin moaned, her head tipping back against the door. Rowan adjusted his knee and the mesh-like fabric under her dress caught on certain areas. “Oh,” Aelin moaned. “Oh fuck.” She was writhing now, squirming under his touch.

Rowan growled. “You’re mine.”

Aelin let out a gutteral groan. “And you’re mine.”

He slid his hands down to Aelin’s thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist. Rowan carried her to their bedroom, Aelin pressing her center against him all the while, desperate for the pressure.

Rowan set Aelin down gently, despite the ravenous gleam in his eyes, and stepped back to admire her.

Aelin lifted a hand to her dress, about to pull it off, when Rowan surged forward and grabbed her hand. “No. I’m going to fuck you in that dress. In that beautiful wedding dress.”

Aelin moaned. “Please. Please hurry. I need you.”

Rowan unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, Aelin watching intently.

His hard length sprung out and Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes away as Rowan stepped forward and grabbed her hips.

“I love you so much, Aelin. You don’t even know how much.”

She smirked. “I like to think I have some idea.” Aelin grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her. Rowan quickly balanced himself and didn’t waste another second before entering her.

They both let out twin groans. Aelin bucked her hips, trying to pull him in deeper, muttering something about needing more.

Rowan snarled and pulled out almost all the way before slamming into her. Aelin moaned loudly. “Oh. Oh, Rowan, harder.”

He didn’t hold back after that. Rowan pounded into her relentlessly, leaving Aelin unable to take a single breath.

Afterward, lying in a tangle of limbs, Aelin couldn’t help but think how lucky she was. For the earth-shattering sex, yes, but also for the love. The happiness. The days spent together filled with intimacy and romance, joy and laughter. Aelin was very lucky indeed.

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

This is a Repost from my Ao3 I wanted to bring it to Tumblr. As I was editing the last chapter I decided to go a different direction than on Ao3. So moving forward the story will be different.

Word Count: 2200 approx

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy, Slight Stalking. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.6

Chapter 7: Time is Running

Ch.8

The pain is unbearable and the bright light just isn't helping. You start to see shadowy figures around you, you close your eyes again trying to focus. You feel cold, then suddenly a hand in your own. You turn to see who it belongs to, you're slightly surprised to see Tony there holding your hand. He stands when he realizes you've woken up. He's saying something but you can't quite put it together.

"What-what happened to me?" Your voice is dry and hoarse. Suddenly Bruce is at your side as well. "Well, that's what we want to know Y/N." You look at them confused. "I-i don't know what this is, but it's happened before…" They both look at you intrigued, prompting you to continue. "When I was little I was really sick in and out of the hospital. Until one day it got very bad, long story short I had heart surgery." Still not getting the point you continue. 

"And I had this dream, it felt exactly like this. My mom was there…" You say to finish your statement. "Your mom?" Tony repeats walking towards you. You simply nod. "What did she tell you… anything important?" He asks rather impatiently. "She's dead… my- my dad he's alive." You say quietly like you didn't want to believe it. Tony and Bruce share a look, but you don't mention it. "I don't know what happened." You sigh again "Did you check my Heart?" Your question seems to knock them out of their daze. 

"No we didn't, your vitals were stable… Um, do you want me to?" You nod. "It's for the best, considering what happened last time." He begins to walk out “Bruce I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. No need to worry the team.” He hesitates but ultimately agrees. You watch him walk out and turn to Tony. “I’m going to ask that you do the same.” He goes to speak but you stop him before he can start. “Tony, please I don't need their pity, and therefore mentioned yours.” He sighs in hindsight he should have told them but he didn’t and you appreciated him for it.

The next couple of hours Bruce spent running tests on you. You knew something was wrong when he decided to re-test for “better images”. Just as he’s about to walk away and run the said test for the third time you stop him. “What’d you find Bruce, be honest with me running the damn test again won’t change the results.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “It just doesn’t make scene Y/n, earlier when I ran these tests everything was fine, and now your results are all over the place.” He gives you a worried look. “When Wanda tried to look into your mind she said you were blocked off she couldn’t get through the barrier. I think It was keeping you stable Y/n.” 

“So you’re saying that whatever is happening to me Is keeping me alive?” He nods and builds on his theory. “It’s like a survival instinct it kicks in when you’re in danger.” You scoff and rub your hands together. “More like imminent death, show me my heart scans.” He walks off and hands them to you. “Oh, fuck me. That’s bad isn’t it?” He nods. “The surgery you had did not fix the initial heart issue you had, It actually got worse with time.” 

You close your eyes trying to calm your thoughts. “What does this mean Bruce can we do something?” He sighs “You’re gonna want to talk to Tony about this, Maybe he can do something with the arc reactor. Maybe Vision could help us; he won’t tell anyone.” He adds quickly at the end. “Y/n they need to know about this…” You cut him off  “No, Vision, Tony, and you need to know about this. There isn’t anything the rest of the team can do.” You stand from the examination table and clothe yourself. Bruce didn’t want to look but curiosity took over. “Y/n where’d you get those?” he asks quietly looking at the scars on our back. “Bruce the Foster Care System is fucked.” you say while putting your shirt on. “Do-do you want to find your father?” He asked another question this time you freeze in place. 

“Bruce, thin ice bud.” You say walking away. As soon as you walk out you see the team sitting in the common room. “Steve, Pietro, Nat, Wanda I owe you all an explanation…” When you try to continue Natasha stops you. “Y/n you owe us nothing, when you’re ready to talk we’ll be here waiting.” she says casually. You look around the room and everyone is agreeing which is odd. Something is going on, they know something you don't, you look at Steve, his eyes immediately shift away from yours. “You are all terrible liars.” You state bluntly, them being closed off huddling together after all the “we’re a family, we’ll be here” crap just makes you less inclined to ever open up to them. 

“Vision, Tony and Banner want to talk to you.” You say changing your attention to the synthezoid currently floating in the corner of the room. He simply nods and phases through a wall. You stare blankly at the wall, a ‘that’s new’ leaving your lips. Not minding the rest of the team behind you, you leave them there heading back to the lab. "Right have you gotten Vision onboard." He simply nods. "Y/n I have to ask your heart since when has that been going on." Vision asks and you nod "When I was dropped off at the hospital as a baby I had minor non invasive surgeries, later on I got this bad boy." You point out lifting your shirt to reveal a rather large scar. 

"Y/n would you mind if I accessed your medical files." You ceded "It's fine do what you must. Bruce? Um thanks for all of this... What's your estimate?" You ask quickly he almost didn't catch it. "Y/n you don't need to know that." Your anger rising "The hell I do Banner. Look I don't have my affairs in order. I need you to tell me whether or not I should get started on that. Or I could just ask Vision." He shakes his head. "At the deterioration rate your heart tissues are in I'd say 4,5 months." That takes you by surprise and it takes you a moment to process. You look up at him, your smile faltering, you nod and head out of the lab.

Surprisingly a certain red head was waiting for you outside the lab. You walk up to her "Do you want to go get that dinner you promised?" She's surprised by your sudden invitation, but you don't back down. "I would love to." You nod. She clears her throat "so what's actually going on with you?" She tries to ask casually but ultimately fails. "I won't ask about your little secret and you won't ask about my little episode. Sound good? I just want to enjoy the night." She nods and you both make your way to the elevator. The walk to the restaurant was pleasant. “So tell me Y/n how’d you become the billionaire you are today?” You laugh at her phrasing no one’s ever asked you that. “I wouldn't paint myself in that light but I guess I am a billionaire, but I’m smart.” She scoffs “So, Tony’s also smart, tell me something I don't already know.” 

“Fine, let me think… I had Howard that's how I did all of this I guess if it wasn't for him I would probably be on the streets.” She stops walking. “Another fun fact, that for my 12th birthday he gave me my first Million Euros.” She tilted her head. “Why Euros you may be asking yourself? He said  ‘Y/n anyone can give you money, but I, I got you the best money there is.” Natasha broke out in laughter. “So Howard was rich, that must have been like culture shock.” You nod. “Well It should have been, but when your bestfriend gets a private island for her birthday your expectations change.” You mention casually. “Who is this best friend of yours?” She asks curiously. “Remember when we ‘met’ the coffee place? My friend Jenna owns the place.” 

“What is she doing working at a Coffee shop?” She asks Intrigued. “Well, her family comes from old money. And something that usually comes with old money is strings. So she cut herself off.” Nat shakes her head. “That must’ve been hard.” You nod. “It was but by then I had my own money I could help her out when she really needed it.” You stop abruptly and turn to nat. “I can't believe I almost forgot, there's this place that has the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had!” You basically drag her down the street to the food truck. “Thank God! It's still here.” You exclaim trying to catch your breath. 

“See, I was thinking candlelit, waiters and wine!” She mentions jokingly you give her a playful glare and proceed to order. “You see I’m not the wine and dine type of Girl.” she chuckles “I’m beginning to see that.” You take the first bite and it’s like heaven on earth. “It’s still as good as I remember.” You say in between bites. Natasha can only nod “You know you eat like a child right?” you fain being offended “Nat I’ll have you know I have the most refined palate. You can't tell me It’s not good. ”She hums taking another bite of her grilled cheese. “I never said it was bad Y/n.” She teases. Her eyes met yours and for a moment it felt like it was just you and her. When suddenly the world your eyes have created is brought to an abrupt stop.

“Y/n is that you?” fuck… “It’s me Zack from last night.” How can this keep getting worse. You turn your head towards Zack meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I remember you. My new favorite barista, thanks for helping me out yesterday.” You say plastering on the most artificial smile you could. “You like Doc’s too, I used to come here as a kid with my parents.” Your demeanor falters at the mention of his parents. “Yeah, It's my favorite. It was nice to see you Zack, but we gotta go see you around.” You take hold of Nat's hand and walk away from him. Once you're a safe distance away you let go and finally notice that you're breathing is of the charts. “Sorry that guy just creeps me out.” You say while catching your breath. “You could’ve fooled me. Your favorite barista?”

“Nat? Are you jealous… Cause if you are.” You stop talking when you notice her glaring at you. “He’s not my favorite barista far from it. Who would’ve thought an international spy Jealous.” She scoffs “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself Y/n. We haven't even gone out.” Now it's your turn to laugh “We haven't? Then what is this we’re doing?” The words in Natasha's mouth go away. She's left there opening and closing her mouth. "Right, now how about you pick dessert?" You say changing the subject. She nods "How does Ice cream sound, I know a really good place around here."

"That sounds Perfect." You hum as you start walking. "You know Zack, he's a horrible person. He's not in my good graces I guess is what I'm trying to get at." You mumble. She turns to you with a worried look. "Y/n are you okay? We can go back if you're not feeling well." She states taking hold of your shoulder. "No I'm okay I just wanted to clear the air." She nods and you continue walking. Once you make it to the ice cream shop you order and sit in a both. "So Y/n If you don't like Zack why pretend?" She asks "To put it simply he doesn't remember who I am hence what he did to me." 

"What are you planning to do with this guy then?" She continues down the same road. "Nothing… It's not my priority right now." You say taking another bite of your ice cream. "So Natasha tell me about you. Yes, I know it might be surprising you might have picked up on how I like to make things about me. It's your turn now tell me something I don't know." You say and she chuckles. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask." She teases. "Well I'm Russian. I was trained to be the best assassin there is and I was until Barton recruited me." You nod. 

"See we've already got something in common. You have Clint I had Howard." She laughs at the fact that you completely flew over the International Assassin part. "I would like to do this again some time… of course if you want to too I mean." You go on. "Nat, are you listening to me?" You notice her eyes looking elsewhere. "Y/n he followed us here." You almost drop your ice cream. "He what?" She takes your hand. "Zack creepy guy followed us here. I'm starting to think he does remember you." 

[thepersonperson]

More complaining under the tab.

Tags from @nyan-bynary: #oh thank god I'm not the only one that hated the letters thing and the pacing is driving me insane slightly ngl #like gege's style is how he doesn't really dwell on dead characters more on people's relationships to them

Currently, there is more time dedicated to Megumi helping a mother grieve the loss of her criminal son than there is his reaction to Gojo's passing. Even though Megumi despised the man at the detention center for accidentally killing a child, his death causes him to be visibly upset. Yuji coming back to life is also a bit difficult for him to swallow. It takes him a couple of chapters shake it.

Like we all saw how badly Gojo and Geto reacted to Riko's death and they barely knew her. We saw Yuji's breakdown at Shibuya. Maki and Yuta snapped from the deaths of their loved ones. Megumi killed his sister and his not-dad with front row seats to the carnage. Thematically and characterization wise, he should be a little more messed up. Dude spent his 16th birthday in gore soup.

#but gOD everything about everyone's reaction to gojo dying. to THE LITERAL PILLAR OF JUJUTSU DYING has been a whole lot of nothing😭😭😭 #like even if no one cares as a person (which gege's established that people DO) the lukewarm non-mention is still baffling HELLO???? #I hope that whatever gege does next he's able to negotiate a better contract for his and his stories' sakes bc this is baaaaaddd

Gojo changed the balance of the world by being born. Therefore his death should also cause a significant upset in some way. (Unless, huffing copium, he's not dead and will be coming back!!!)

But yeah this is something where you can literally feel the burnout of the mangaka. If Gege had the schedule of the Dungeon Meshi creator, I think it would've turned out much better. JJK 265 & 266 are so fudging good because they take a step back to feel out emotions like the earlier parts of the manga. But Gege isn't getting that breathing room workload wise, so the story suffocates with its creator.

#(manifesting heian spin off SO hard) #also yea sukuna might still be alive there's one whole finger left #it'd be interesting to see him try to live as close to 'normal' as he can bc he can't just slice his trauma away anymore #hopefully gege gets to add what's missing for the anime I HOPE we get some things paced better there

This manga needs the Bleach CFYOW treatment so badly. It doesn't sit well with me that Sukuna, Tengen, and Kenjaku aren't given arc-length backstories despite causing literally everything. For less impactful characters by comparison, it's bonkers that Geto, Mahito (tbh Jogo and Hanami too), Toji, and even Naoya have better fleshed out motivations and character relationships. (I'm usually pretty lenient with Gege's narrative choices and will take the manga as is, but this isn't defensible...)

And if the story is going to continually draw attention to nature vs nurture debate, you have to show how the antagonists wound up like that. Mahito vs Yuji is the argument of nature. Sukuna vs Yuji is the argument of nurture. But unlike Mahito, Sukuna's side of things only has hints.

I'm ok with Sukuna dying like a hateful blobby worm. It's the lack of reaction to it and the lack of emotional explanation for it that makes everything feel odd. This guy saw off several characters into the afterlife while addressing their personal hang ups. Even non-Sukuna kills like Rika, Junpei, Nanami, Choso, Toji, and Nobara's fakeout got that. I really am betting it all on that final finger cheese and rice.

Since Sukuna still has that final finger. Maybe that’s where we’ll get an afterlife scene or even a backstory? Yuji basically confirmed Sukuna is only like this because of circumstances. So…I would like to be shown those circumstances.

I’m ok with Sukuna dying and all the students surviving. But the execution of that has been so poorly paced and unsatisfying. Can I please get a proper grieving scene? Megumi and Nobara being all smiles at the Gojo letters is...weird.

I think there’s something to say about a manga where overwork/exploitation kills people having its mangaka rush the ending because of overwork/exploitation.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Tom x You

Summery: Tom and his brothers have a pub. You, trying to avoid working on your new album, spend most of your time in there. Lots of flirting and bickering ensues.

Themes: Sort of frienemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual attraction but they are both to dumb to realise. General dumbness all around. Idiots in love.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Drinking and swearing. Smut in future chapters.

PART I of IV

***

At 8 years of age your father hands you a worn guitar and with the patience of a saint teaches you how to make it play the holiest of sounds. Every day you practise, until your fingertips has hardened and they move effortlessly over the strings.  

At 10 years of age you write your first song. It’s a puerile little tune about a sweet boy with hair like honey and an opportunity lost. It’s repetitive and nonsensical but your mother hums the chorus for weeks after hearing it.

At 14 years of age you meet up with a record label and when signing the dotted line on the contract you feel a chill down your spine and your grandmother’s stories about the crossroad demon comes back to you verbatim. With determination you still put your name on the paper in a signature you’ve spent hours practising. Only days later you hear your voice on the radio for the very first time.

At 17 years of age there are headlines in magazines about you, photos of men they claim you’ve dated and interviews with people who claim to be a ‘close source’ to you, even though you’ve never met them, spilling lies on every page. You find out your closest friend has sold information about you to the tabloids for over a year.

At 19 years of age you go on a world tour, though the only parts of the world you see are airports, hotels and playing venues and then later at night: nightclubs. You travel the world, but you learn nothing about it.

At 22 years of age and your boyfriend breaks up with you for an actress. There isn’t a day that year that tabloids don’t ‘report’ on it. He spends most of the time telling the world how much happier he is in his new relationship, and you spend most of your time staring down into a bottle.  

At 24 years of age you feel drained, dog-tired and worn out. On a regular basis there’s photos of you stumbling out of pubs, bars and restaurants all over the internet. Your record label is threatening a lawsuit and you haven’t talked to your manager in weeks. You have no friends and your family doesn’t know what to do with you.  

Okay, so maybe being a successful singer isn’t all that it’s cut out to be. Especially not when the entirety of the internet is making fun of you.  

And yes, maybe you’re in a flunk and haven’t written anything decent in months. And okay, maybe you haven’t even picked up a guitar in weeks. And maybe throwing away your phone in order not to have to face the record label was a bad idea. And maybe, hand on heart, the right solution to your problems is not to waste your days away in a well-hidden pub in a backstreet in London with the cutest pub owner you’ve ever seen, with biceps that makes you want to drool. A pub owner who has no interest in you and finds you annoying beyond belief.  

Yet here you are,  

again.

***

“It’s Tuesday” Tom informs you as he hands you cherry coke and a straw.

So, it goes like this. Tom is obsessed with time. He’s always informing you of either what day of the week it is, or the time of day. As if he’s trying to shame you into realising that 10 am on a Tuesday is not an acceptable time to order a dry martini.  

“So?” You ask, feigning ignorance as you open the can. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that this is a coke and in fact completely free of alcohol. I mean in the good ol’ day they at least had the cutesy to put cocaine in there.”.

“Don’t worry” he says, scrubbing the surface of the already clean counter-top “there’s a shit load of other stuff that’ll destroy your insides in there”.

You try not to roll your eyes, honestly you do. You fail. “Oh no, is it sugar? Please, doctor say it isn’t sugar!” you wail dramatically.

“No, not just sugar” and you can tell he’s also trying not to roll his eyes at your exaggerated play acting. “You know, I saw this documentary once about what they put in coca cola and –”

“No, nope, no, no. Absolutely not” You shake your head vehemently as if that will stop his words. "I would literally rather hear you talk about goddamn golf for an hour than put me of one of life’s few great pleasures”.

This time he doesn’t manage to stop himself from rolling his eyes at you. “Oh, I think we both know you find more pleasures in life than coca cola”.

Before you can answer him something insanely witty the door to the office behind the bar opens and an anxious looking Harrison step out. “Tom, Sam says the fish delivery didn’t show up again so we’re out of cod and therefore fish ‘n chips.”  

Tom rubs his face, looking worried. “Alright, I’ll call him up and see what happened.”  

But Harrison still looks tense. “Also…” he trails off, losing courage.  

“Also, what?” And Tom too sounds tense now.  

“Well, Downey from the bank called, he says the invoice is way over due and he wants a meeting. I told him you’d call today”.  

Tom keeps rubbing his forehead, as if to literally fight of a migraine, and his shoulders tense. “Yeah, yeah I’ll call him this afternoon”. Harrison nods and walks back into the kitchen

“You know, I cou –” but you don’t get to finish your sentence before he interrupts you. “Don’t” he says, voice sharp as a whip.

“But, it would just be a loan, honestly I – ”

“No, and I mean it.” And you judging by the tone of voice he uses and the stern look he gives you you’re well aware that he isn’t joking. It’s like his usually warm and kind eyes are nailing you down into your seat. “I’m not gonna borrow money from a customer, as you well know.”  

The problem is that really wouldn’t be a big deal for you to offer him a loan or give it as a gift really. You love this pub. You love the people working here and the patrons and coming in for a drink or a meal or simply a chat and a laugh. It’s your safe haven. No one ever hardly ever bothers you here. No one asks you for a selfie or asks you about when more music is coming out. No one tugs at your sleeve or try to sneakily take a photo of you. Here, you are normal. And it would devastate you to see the Holland boys lose it all when you know you can help. You have more money than you know what to do with.  

However, you know there’s no arguing with him when he’s got that look on his face so you don’t, just keep sipping on your cherry coke as your foot taps along to the song on the radio. From inside the kitchen you can hear the faint sound of the Holland twin's laughter.  

Tom turns away from you to sort out the whiskey glasses on the counter behind him. But when picking up a glass he fumbles, and it falls out of his hand and lands right on his foot, though it fortunately doesn’t break.

“Ah, fucking bastard!” he shouts, grabbing hold of his injured foot.

“You shouldn’t swear in church, you know” ¨you say, as you finish your coke.

He looks at you indignantly, pouting like a child, “well, lucky for me, this is a pub.”

“You say potato, I say tomato, now make me a real drink.”

“For fucks sake, darlin’, you gotta eat something.”

***

So, it’s either late or early, depending how you look on it. On tube stations all across London early worker are already gathering on the platforms to take their commute to work. Not you. Not Tom either.  

Now, Tom is an early riser and has been since childhood. His nanna used to say that he had energy enough for three children. Despite regular closing shifts at the pub he likes to be up at dawn. Says he likes to get an hour at the gym and a walk with Tessa in before he heads to the pub to make sure everything is in order. After having checked with Sam that everything is stocked for the day, he has his protein loaded breakfast while ordering supplies or read through whatever paper work he need to be on top off before opening up the pub for the day.  

Tom hates having this routine disturbed.

So, it goes like this. Harry had been the bartender most of that night, since Tom had ‘other business to take care of’. Whenever Harry was bartender he’d usually spent more time drinking with you than he did serving up the other costumers. When Tom came back and saw the state of you, he’d sent you home, telling you that you’d had enough for one night and asking Harrison to walk you home. Then he’d giving Harry a proper telling off. You had dutifully walked with Harrison to your apartment, thanked him sweetly, and then as soon as you saw that he had passed the corner walked into another pub just across the street for more. It wasn’t as charming a place as The Hollands and their bartender sure wasn’t as handsome or as fun to annoy as the regular one at Hollands. But in a pinch, anything will do.  

Upon closing hour however, as you made your way home, you’d discovered that your keys were missing. Being absolutely wasted this did not worry you in the slightest. You just strolled back on unsteady legs to The Hollands to see if you’d dropped them there. Tom, who had closed the pub for the night, was still in. From the windows you could see him going through stacks of paperwork in front of him, a frown on his face. Upon hearing you knocking on the window at 2 am he’d jumped out his chair to see what was going on. When seeing you three sheets to the wind, dressed in a thin dress on a cold summer’s night the frown on his face had gotten worse.

Now here you are, in his apartment, in the dead of the night, and he’s offering you a plate of tortellini. Tessa had been overjoyed to see you and after having been allowed to greet you she had then been sent to her place and out of the way of your drunk, stumbling feet.

“But I hate tortellini” you whine.

“Christ sake, Popstar, just eat the damn food”

“No, I hate it, Tom, I hate it so much, it makes me think of- of- ” you hiccup.

“Are you actually crying right now?”

“It makes me think of- of - cheese sauce and -”

“Sorry, but what now?”

“And – I – I – I hate cheese sauce”. You’re full on sobbing and he just stares at you in disbelief.  

Then, somehow the world seems fall the wrong way around. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve slid down on the floor and that you’re staring up at the ceiling. Tom’s strong arm take a hold of you and he guides you to a sitting position, leaned up against the wall. With your face in his hands he stares at you in indignation but there’s something else there too. You’re drunk enough to dare to call it tenderness.  

Suddenly you’re aware that you’re sobbing, but you can’t remember why that is.

“Fuck who knows” he responds and when you give out a sound that’s something halfway between a sob and a laugh he starts laughing too. “If I make you something else to eat, will you eat it then? You’ll feel better in the morning if you do”.

Your head feels heavy, so you lean it against his hand and nod. “No cheese sauce, please”.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing too. “Sure, no cheese sauce for Pop Princess.”

“Oi!” You call out “You promised to never to call me that!” Pop Princess was the title the tabloids had given you early on in your career. He keeps smiling, but it’s a gentle smile, and trace the frown between your eyebrows with his finger, as if he’s trying to erase it.

“Will you please just sit here while I cook?”

You nod again, too tired to say anything. He gets up, and you can hear some pouring water and then he places a glass of water in your hand. “Drink” he orders, then he’s gone again, and you can hear the clattering of pots and pans as he starts cooking. You’re just staring into the wall, trying to make it stop spinning; limbs heavy with sleep and whiskey, a nice buzzing numbness in your head.

Then he’s in front of you again, looking at you with a frown “I thought I told you to drink that” and you look at the full glass clasped in your hands. “Seriously, you’ll feel better if you do”.

You roll your eyes “oh, please, Tommy. Remember who you’re speaking to. I’m the local drunk, there’s no need to lecture me in hangovers”. But you do as you’re told and chug down your drink and hand him the empty glass. “Good girl” he says and gets back to his cooking. Before long the delicious scent of food is spreading through the tiny, cramped kitchen.

You start humming a song you wrote years ago but never released, low enough so you think Tom won’t hear you over the sizzling pan. But he does.  

“What’s that?” he asks, curiosity in his voice.

“Oh” you say, leaning your head back against the wall as you close your eyes in the hope that the world will stop spinning. “Just a song.”

Everything goes quiet for a while and you find yourself wondering if you’ve fallen asleep. But then you hear his voice. “Keep singing, please”.  

It surprises you, the amount of tenderness in his words; such a gentle bequest. So, you do as you’re told. In a voice raspy from the whiskey but sweet from his kindness you sing.

“I’ve been holding my breath, I’ve been counting to ten, 

Over something you said, I’ve been holding back tears 

 While you’re throwing back beers, I’m alone in bed

You know I, I’m afraid of change, Guess that’s why we stay the same, 

So tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags, get on the road, 

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know, 

'Cause you remind me every day, I’m not enough, but I still stay”

You trial off and he keeps quiet too and goes silent again. Then he slides down beside you, a plate of pasta carbonara in his hands which he offers you along with a fork. “Eat” he orders gently. You do, and it tastes delicious.

“God, Tom, you could rival Sam in the kitchen”.

He snorts but you persist. “Seriously Tommy, I’d hire you as a private chef if I didn’t know you’d be an insufferable employee”.

He snorts again, but you can tell he’s amused. “Wow, thanks a lot”

“Seriously, you’d always complain about my lack of organization, or the fact that I keep all of my face masks in the refrigerator, or that I never have any food at home or that I don’t eat at regular hours or that I sometimes just forget to eat and just have a Red bull for dinner instead or that I – ”

“Jesus Christ” he interrupts you “who the fuck let you be an adult? What’s wrong with you!?”

You’re wolfing down your food, so it takes you a moment to answer. “Someone said my problem was ‘a mind-boggling lack of general discipline and a staggeringly low ability to organise’” you finally say.

“Who said that? I mean they’re not wrong”.

“You said that” you point out as you finish your plate of carbonara. “Also, this was scrumptious, and also, may I sleep here tonight?”

He looks at you in disbelief “Yeah, duh, I’m not kicking you out? I mean, I thought that was the general idea of this”.

He grabs a hold of your plate and takes your hand in his other as he guides you both up to a standing position. He places the plate among the other dirty pans in the sink and then lead you to his bathroom. Giving you a new toothbrush, he orders you to brush your teeth while he changes his sheets. He hands you a shirt to sleep in and when you’ve changed you argue for a good 10 minutes while about who’s to sleep on the couch before he puts his foot down and say he’ll ban you from his pub unless you take the bed instead of him. So, you do.  

His bed soft and comfortable and smell of his detergent. From the living room you can hear Tessa’s deep breaths and the sound of Tom tossing around on the sofa. You wonder how uncomfortable he is.

“Tommy just come in here instead” you call out, voice drowsy.

“No, I told you, you take the bed”

You snort. As if you were going to give this bed up, no chance. Not now that you know how comfortable it is.  

“Yeah, duh” you answer. “Wasn’t planning on taking the sofa, but the bed’s big enough for the two of us, innit?”

Dead silence from the living room. Even Tessa seems to have been struck silent.

“You sure?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I'm sure, for fuck’s sake Tommy, just come in here”.

You hear the sound of footsteps slowly making their way across the floor, then he’s in the doorway. Clad in a pair of black boxers and a black t-shirt, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he avoids looking at you.

You pull down the covers and he lay down beside you, keeping his distance in the bed. You have your backs against each other, staring into separate walls and even through the whiskey you can tell this is awkward. You want to ask him to hold you, but you’re scared he doesn’t want it. Scared he doesn’t even want to lay beside you. You are after all just a costumer in his bar. A costumer you know he can’t afford to lose.

You don’t know how long you lay there in silence, his scent surrounding you, the soft sound of his breath lulling you into further relaxation but eventually you drift off to sleep.  

When you wake, he’s gone. A note on his pillow tells you he’s gone to the gym, telling you to take anything you want for breakfast and just leave the keys at the pub later.  

When you close the door behind you you can’t help but feel that something tender happened in there, something important; but you know he doesn’t feel the same.

***

It’s Monday night, as Tom has been so kind to remind you off, and you’re plastered.  

Earlier the pub had been full to rim of football supporters shouting and singing and sharing pints before a big game, filling the entire place with an excited buzz. Now they’ve all gone off to cheer for their heroes on the field and only the patrons remain.  

Harry is bartender tonight, and Tom has placed himself in the back of the pub, a stack of paper in front of him that he keeps leering at. With a drink in your hand and a happy-go-lucky attitude you seat yourself on the opposite side of his table, determent to cheer him up.

“’m gonna write a song about you.” You inform him, voice only somewhat slurry.

“Go on then.” He doesn’t look up at you, just jots something down on the form in front of him. He’s wearing glasses tonight and they make him look so handsome you want to scream in frustration.

“Well, what rhymes with Tom? Rum!”

“Oh, Christ, no. No, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Tom, he serves rum and tequila.” You sing. “Wait, what rhymes with tequila?”

“Please don’t”

“Heliophilia!”

“Okay, ’m literally begging you not to do this.” He’s looking at you now, his caramel eyes filled with both amusement and genuine dread. You don’t listen, no, you sing.

“Tom, he serves Rum and tequila,

he loves the sun, it’s called heliophilia

his pub needs fundin’, he lives in London”

“Wow. That is a hell of a forced rhyme, pop princess.”

“No, no wait!”

“Wait? I will literally pay you to stop”.

But then you start singing for real, in a voice so sultry that it makes him freeze mid motion, hand just about to turn the page over.

“Have you’ve seen my bartender

he’ll serve you whiskey, he’ll pour you rum

so sweet it’ll make you tender

but all the whiskey in Tennessee

couldn’t have that man agree

to ever share a drink with thee

no, all that sweetness’s just for me

cause babe, he’s my bartender

Yes, have you’ve seen my bartender

He’ll hand you wine, he’ll sell you gin

I think it’s a sign when he hands me my wine

When hand’s touching hand, skin touches skin”

Tom seem to be frozen in place when you stop, and over at the bar you hear Harry give a loud whistle. “Fucking hell, popstar” he cheers.

Tom still doesn’t say anything, just observes you, seemingly speechless. And maybe you’re imagining it, but he’s cheeks seem pinker than usual.

"Well, at least I didn’t rhyme rum with cum” you say, trying to get a reaction out of him. And then “I did think about doing it though” and you lift your glass to him as if in a toast before you down it.

He snorts, back to his normal self and stare down at the paper again.

“Now, honestly, Tom. What did that piece of paper ever do to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at it like you want to set fire to it. You’d like me to do it for you?”

“No thanks, reckon he’d sue”.

“Who is he?” you lean over the table and closer to him and you swear you can practically see him ordering himself not to look down at your cleavage. “Is he god?” you whisper in mock horror. “Cause, I wouldn’t worry too much, Tommy. You see, God can’t sue. Well, someone in America tried to sue Satan once and they couldn’t cause they couldn’t hand him the papers. Turns out Satan hasn’t got an address. Reckon the same goes with God”

He rolls his eyes “oh, this guy definitely has got an address. He lives in Knightsbridge.” And then, in a voice unusually bitter he adds “posh twat”.

“Oy” you warn, jokingly, “those are my neighbourhoods'”.  

A sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh escapes him “Oh please” he laughs “please, you might live in Primrose Hill now, but you’re not Knightsbridge posh. Sorry to disappoint, Pop Princess”.

You glare, but it’s all in good humour. “So, who is this not-God-but-rich-as-God man sending you paper?”

The humour disappears from his face. “Downey, from the bank”.  Then he turns to the bar and shouts, “Harry, hand me a pint, ye?”

“And a whiskey for me, please” you request sweetly.

“No way, Harry, she’s cut off for the night. Tell Sam to make her something to eat” he orders his younger brother who rolls his eyes but obediently begin to head into to the kitchen.

“Not tort -” you begin shouting as an instruction.

“Not tortellini” he shouts at the same time. “And no cheese sauce either” he then adds.

You smile at him and this time you swear he’s blushing.

“Who’s Downey? You ask. And you know you’re prying, but you also know that Tom needs help with something and if there’s anything you can do to help, you will.  

“A bank man who wants me to pay my loans back”. He answers eventually after a long silence, when he figures you’re not going to give up and talk about something else. Harry comes back and hands Tom a pint and then leaves to take care of a costumer at the bar.

“A bank man, who lives in Knightsbridge?” You ask, bemused.

Tom smiles “oh, believe you me, Downey’s not your average bank clerk.” Then, in a serious tone, “look, I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do, ye? So drop it”.

“But I-”

“Drop it. Seriously, pop princess, there’s nothing you can do, I’ll figure something out”. He doesn’t sound harsh and the way he looks at you is positively adoring. Then he does something unexcepted. He reaches over the table and pulls a loose string of hair behind your ear. It’s a soft and sweet gesture and you want to reach over and kiss him but before you can he removes his hand and seconds later Harry places a dish of steaming pasta carbonara in front of you. You smile and thank him and he makes his way back to the bar.  

You eat in silence for a while as he continues to read through stashes of papers. You decide to leave the subject, for now at least.

“Yours is better, by the way”. He looks up at you, confused. “Your carbonara” you clarify. “I mean, Sam is an incredible chef and you’re lucky to have him, but yours is my favourite”.  

His cheeks heat up, again.

***

R E A D    P A R T   T W O     H E R E

[lowkeyleaffan]

Doctors Orders - Morgan Rielly part 3

A/N: Again no one asked but here’s a part 3 :) 

Word count: 2322 words

Warnings: just some swear words.

Mon Nov 18

You woke up the morning after your date smiling. You sat up and checked your phone, as soon as you checked it you can’t help but smile.

From Morgan: Hey, just got home. I had to help Tyson to his room and make sure he stayed in bed, that boy owes me big time.

From Morgan: Good morning 

To Morgan: that’s poor boy haha, and good morning 

From Cournty: hey! Do you have the day off? I’ve got some running around to do/doctor's appointment and don’t wanna brag Luna around

To Cournty: yeah, just have Jake bring her by before he leaves for the airport

You put your phone down before you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. You return to your bedroom and grab your phone before you go to the kitchen and your phone goes off. 

From Jake: ill be at your place in 10

To Jake: okay

From Leah: i’m on my way home, coffee?

To Leah: yes please

You go and sit on the couch before you turn on the TV and watch the news. You were messing around on your phone texting Morgan about your plans and what time he’s planning on heading to the airport. You weren’t paying attention until the door opens.

“I found someone.” Leah says and you turn around to see Jake standing there with Luna in his arm. 

You jumped up and ran to the door before you take Luna from Jake and give her a hug. As soon as you hug her you move her to my hip and hug Jake. He gives me a kiss on the cheek before he puts the diaper bag down. 

“So, as your big brother I feel like I need to ask about your date.” he says and Leah comes and takes Luna to the couch.

“What do you mean?” you ask forcing a smile.

“I mean, you’ve been on two dates with him. Is it getting serious?” he asks.

“I don’t know J, you’re not meeting him if that’s what you’re hinting at.” you say. 

“Y/N, you never let me meet any of the guys you date!” he exclaims.

“Because you scare them away! Let me get comfortable before I introduce him to Jake Muzzin.” you say and he nods before he puts an arm over your shoulder.

“Meet me halfway. What’s the guys name?” He asks and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

“Morgan.” You say and you can see Jake eye you as if trying to see if you were talking about Rielly. Of course you were but no way in hell you're telling Jake that. 

“Weird. Mo is seeing someone named Y/n who’s also a doctor?” He says looking generally confused.

“Y/N is a common name. I’m sure there’s more than just me.” You say and he just nods before he drops it.

“Before I forget. You’re coming to the game on the 30th if you’re not working over night. Alex and Morgan want to meet you, I’m pretty sure Morgan thinks you’re fake because he’s never met you.” he says and you tense for a second. 

“Sure.” You say. 

“Okay, I gotta go I’m picking Mo up.” Jake says and you just nod as Leah brings Luna over. 

Luna puts her arms out to Jake who takes her a kisses her cheek.

“Bye my sweet girl.” He says says before he gives her back and I give him a hug. 

“Be safe please.” You say and he nods before he kisses your head.

“BYE LEAH!” He calls out.

“BYE JAKE!” She yells back before he leaves and you take Luna to the couch. 

Luna was on your lap as you put The Little Mermaid on and Luna giggled. You smile as your phone goes off signing a text from Morgan. 

From Morgan: So has your brother dropped his daughter off yet? 

To Morgan: yup and we’re about to start a Disney day!

You put your phone away before you cuddle Luna close to your chest as she giggles. 

The rest of the day was easy. You just watched Luna and talked with Morgan until his flight. Around 5:30 pm Country walks in the house, she comes right over to the couch and sits down before you hand her Luna and she looks at you. 

“What?” You ask and she just smiles.

“Just because Jake is dumb as a sheet of paper doesn’t mean I am.” She says as your jaw drops before you quickly recover. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say quickly.

“Oh please Y/N, Morgan is seeing this young doctor named Y/N and you’re seeing a guy named Morgan?” She says and you just roll your eyes “so it is Rielly!”

“you can’t tell Jake!” You exclaim.

“I won’t, but you should.” She says and you sigh.

“I want to figure out what Morgan and I are first.” You explains and she nods before she gets up and walks towards the door.

“Don’t wait too long though y/n/n.” She says before she gives you a hug and leaves. 

You head back to the living room and sit back on the couch. At about 7 pm you decide to get up and go make some dinner. You began to make yourself mac and cheese when Leah walked in the room. She jumped up on the counter and looked at you.

“Yes I’ll make you and Carter dinner.” you say rolling your eyes. 

“Not what I was going to ask but thank you!” she says smiling.

“Whats up?” you ask as you start to grate cheese.

“I’m not going to be home this weekend.” she says and you nod as your phone goes off.

You decide to ignore it until you finish making dinner and putting it in the oven. You sat at the table before you open your phone and see Morgan texted and snapchatted you. His snapchat was just a goofy tired smile with the Vegas location tag, you smile and just send one back before you answer his text.

From Morgan: hey we just got back to the hotel

To Morgan: got back?

From Morgan: Muzz and Bears wanted to go to the strip

To Morgan: oh fun

The idea of Morgan and Jake hanging out wasn’t odd to you. You knew they did it but now that you’ve gone on dates and are talking to Morgan it made you feel uneasy. You pushed the thought to the back of my head when you heard the timer go off. You go take the Mac and cheese out of the oven and get yourself a plate before calling Leah and Carter. The two of them grabbed plates and sat at the table.

“So y/n, does Jake know?” Carter asks.

“Nope.” You say before you start to eat.

“Is he going to find out?” He asks

“Nope.” You say again and he just nods. 

The rest of dinner was silent until Leah offered to do the dishes in which you agreed and went to your bedroom. Looking at the clock that reads 9 pm, you put your phone on the charger before you go and get a shower. 

After showering and doing your nighttime routine you put on an over sized shirt and get into bed. Right as you were about to fall asleep there was a knock on your door before it slowly opens and Carter sticks his head in. He sees you in bed and he sighs.

“Do you have tampons?” he asks.

“Does Leah not have any?” you ask and he shakes his head “well, I hate to break this to you but looks like you’re going to the store.” 

He just sighs and goes to shut the door but you stop him making him turn around and look at you.

“Yes?” he asks

“Did Morgan say anything to you about last night?” you ask and he smirks.

“What was last night Muzz?” he asks raising an eye brow making you roll your eyes. 

“Dumbass, go to the store.” you say and he laughs.

“Fine, he did. He didn’t give me much just said he had a good time and can’t wait until they’re back.” he says and you nod smiling to yourself.

“Get me some Gatorade for tomorrow please.” you say and he nods before he leaves shutting your light off and shutting your door.

TUES NOV 19

You had woken up to your phone going off. Sighing you look at the time and see it was only 4 am and the hospital calling. Sighing you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You say.

“Doctor Muzzin! I know you’re supposed to be in at 6, but Doctor Jay has asked me to call you early because he’s concerned with Alexis.” Allison explains and you nod knowing she can’t see you. 

“Let me get dressed and I’ll be right in.” You say before you hang up and get out of bed. 

You quickly get up and put on your scrubs before you throw your hair into a bun and put your glasses on. You unplug your phone before you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. Once you’re done you quickly go to the kitchen and grab your lunch before you get your keys and head out. 

You make your way to your car and start the drove over to sick kids. Seeing how it’s 4:15 am the streets were dead. You parked the car, grabbed your lunch bag and got out. You lock the car before you you head into Sick Kids and go to the 5th floor. You drop your bag in the staff room before you go to the nurses desk and punch in before you see doctor Jay. The second he sees you he thrusts a chart into your chest and you sigh.

“Good morning to you too doctor Jay.” you say as you open the chart and look at it.

“Good morning doctor Muzzin.” he says.

As you look at the chart you don’t see anything wrong. Sure her numbers are slightly elevated but nothing that concerned you, they’re actually lower than when you left the other day.

“Chris, what exactly is wrong with this?” you ask.

“Her numbers are high.” he says and you sigh.

“Did you look at her previous charts before you told Allison to call me?” you ask annoyed.

“No.” he says slowly.

“Chris, these are things you need to look at.” You say sighing “I understand you’re filling in for doctor Jasper tonight but you’ve been a doctor for long enough to know that you need to check her charts. Do you even know what medication she’s allergic to?”

“She's allergic to something.” He says and you look at him with your jaw dropped. 

“You didn’t even look to see that she's allergic to Ampicillin?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Doctor Jay you’re done for the night, thank you.”

“You can’t send me home.” He says and you look at him

“Excuse me? Yes I can. I am the shift doctor making what I say go and you called me in therefore relishing your authority. Plus I have more experience than you as a doctor on which automatically makes me take over when I start. Now this will be filed to doctor Montgomery who will look at it so would you like to add not listing to a superior to the list?” You ask and he shakes his head “I didn’t think so. Goodnight doctor Jay.”

With that he walked away and you went to sit down but Allison stopped you. 

“He kinda freaked out in the room and called me to ask me to call you in so Alexis parents are kinda freaked out.” She says smiling. 

You sigh before you grab her chart and walk off to her room. Once you get there you knock softly before you poke your head in. You see Alexis' parents look at you before they get up and meet you at the door. You stood back so they could join you in the hall. 

“First things first good morning. I would like to apologize for doctors Jay's actions this morning when he freaked you guys out. I want to assure you there is nothing wrong with Alexis. In fact her numbers went down so I would like to run another test today to see if they’re back up or if it’s finally going down for good.” You explain.

“Thank you Doctor Muzzin.” her mom says and you nod.

“Of course, I’ll come back around 8 for that lab okay?” You say and they nod before you leave them and go back to the nurses station and start writing an email to the head of pediatrics. 

As soon as you finished the email your day started and things got crazy. By the time 6 pm rolled around you were exhausted. When you rolled into your apartment you dropped onto your bed. You were about to fall asleep when your phone went off.

“Hello?” you answer half asleep.

“I haven’t heard from you all day so I wanted to make sure you didn’t die.” you hear the voice say and you instantly smile. 

“Nope just a 14 hour nonstop day.” you say.

“14 hours? Y/N that’s crazy!” Morgan says and you sigh.

“It is what it is Mo, It’s my job.” you say.

You end up talking with Morgan about your work and how he’s stressed that Babcock might get fired and how it’s a lot of pressure on him. The two of you talked until had to leave for pre game and you were about to fall asleep. Morgan promised to call you after work tomorrow. You went to the kitchen and reheated the mac and cheese from last night. You quickly ate before you went to your room and passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

[edendaphne]

"Discordant Sonata”- Ch. 12

TFW your rich AF dad is a stingy SOB who only gives you one shirt to wear 🤣

(And YEP! In this AU Adrien wears glasses! He wears contact lenses for photoshoots/modeling)  :3c

>Read it here on Ao3<

>Read it here on Wattpad<

CHAPTER 12: ANDANTE

Music glossary: Andante - to go at a moderate, steady pace

French glossary: “Les Deux Sots” = The Two Fools/Idiots

(La Dispute (Amelie Soundtrack)- Yann Tiersen)

Marinette was upset.

Not so much upset, really. More like… confused? Frustrated? And not even at Fu, necessarily. It wasn’t his fault. But Fu was the messenger, and therefore, the undeserving recipient of her current mental ire.

With the critical 48 hours of Chat Noir’s healing complete, she’d gone to visit Fu to discuss some of the concerns she had about her new partnership, along with some other pressing questions. The answers were… not quite what she expected (or wanted) to hear.

No, Marinette, he’d said. You must not know Chat Noir’s identity, he’d said. Yes, I know you just want to protect him as a civilian. No, don’t try to figure it out yourself. If you find out too early, you’ll absorb the negative effects from the misuse of his miraculous. Yes, that is always what happens with the Cat and Ladybug miraculouses. Yes, that’s why wielders must not know each others’ identities; not until their souls and energies are perfectly in sync with each other. No, Marinette, you are not in perfect sync with each other. Yes, I know you don’t like it. But that is how it must be. Have a nice day, Marinette. No, I’m not kicking you out. I’m just... going to the spa to get rid of a sudden tension headache. Goodbye.

“Understood, Master,” she’d said. And honestly, yes; she really did understand.

But she still didn’t like it.

The conversation weighed heavily on her mind as she went about her daily chores, and she couldn’t help but stomp around the house as she worked, a perpetual crinkle fixed between her eyebrows.

She just couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Negative effects? Truth be told, prior to this, she’d even almost suspected that Fu had exaggerated that aspect of the miraculouses, in order to keep her on the straight and narrow path and be responsible.

Such matters had been far from her mind while befriending Chat Noir. She’d never even thought to ask him about it. How long would these effects linger on, even after his change of heart and proper use of his miraculous?

More importantly, would the effects ever fully disappear? Fu said that every case was different. Sometimes the effects did fade. Other times, they did not; and in those cases, partners couldn’t ever reveal their identities to each other. In rare instances, the wielders would even have to return their miraculouses to the guardians, because they would never be able to work in proper harmony with the other. Marinette shuddered. She didn’t want to even consider that possibility.

In any case, Hawkmoth was suffering from such negative effects as well. What could his ailments be? Chat had mentioned that he seemed to be losing control of his akumas, and his judgment was becoming increasingly clouded. But was there more?

Frowning, she stuffed folded laundry into her dresser drawers with a bit more force than necessary. She quickly stood up when she was finished, yanking the laundry basket away with a huff as she headed towards her next task.

There was also another question, one she’d had even years ago, when she’d first become Ladybug. One she’d always been too shy to ask, always trusting in Fu’s judgment, never questioning him because of his seniority and experience (respecting one’s elders having been an integral part of her upbringing, particularly her mother’s).

But now that she was older, she’d finally gathered enough courage to ask him: Why hadn’t he revealed Chat’s identity to her years ago? With enough luck, she might have been able to steal back his miraculous when he wasn’t transformed while he was out of the house. So, why hadn’t he told her?

Fu’s answer had been remarkably simple: He’d wanted Chat to have a relatively normal life outside of the mask. He’d always held out hope that Chat would turn away from his unrighteous deeds on his own. Having people around him that treated him kindly and that he could trust would give him the courage to do so. If he didn’t have that, he would have felt that he had nowhere to turn to, and no choice but to remain as he was.

Fu added that if she’d had any contact with Chat, either as herself or as Ladybug, she would have treated him differently, possibly with hostility. Marinette had wanted to deny it at first, but she knew he was right. She would have treated him differently. Probably would’ve avoided him, spoken to him harshly, given him dirty looks from across the street. She might have even tried to convince her friends that he wasn’t a good person, much like her situation with Lila. Not that that had ever worked; that girl was just way too deceptive. After all these years, she’d given up on even trying. Without any concrete evidence, Marinette’s claims that Lila was a rotten liar wouldn’t convince anyone, except thankfully for Alya and Nino; but even they had been skeptical at first.

In any case, Marinette would have most likely become angry, cold, or maybe even embittered towards Chat if she wasn’t able to retrieve his miraculous right away. And Chat would’ve responded with confusion, hurt, and resentment towards both her and Ladybug, permanently eliminating any chance to become partners.

The troubled girl sighed wearily, walking towards the downstairs bathroom with a basket full of supplies for their feline guest, still mulling over her earlier discussion. There just had to be other options she hadn’t considered yet–

Still distracted, deliberating the myriad of possibilities and worrying over every potential outcome, Marinette swung the bathroom door open... only to be greeted by a tall, toned, and very much bare backside, whose modesty was barely concealed by a small towel wrapped around the waist. Rivulets of water coursed down the valleys and ripples of the lightly tanned skin, and her eyes couldn’t help but follow them down their path, gracefully gliding from the tops of the broad shoulders, still rosy and glowing from the shower’s hot water, and disappearing into the edges of the towel, which rode low along the hips. The shock of damp, golden hair gave Marinette the confirmation of who exactly the stranger in her bathroom was. Practically tripping over her feet, she slammed the door shut, a loud screech abruptly escaping her throat.

“OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH, I AM SOOOO SORRY!!!” she yelled in between pants. “I thought the bathroom was empty!!! I was just gonna drop off some muscles— I mean toilets— I mean toiletries!!! I’ll just... leave them here outside the door! SORRYAGAIN, BYE!!!”

Marinette sprinted all the way to her bedroom and plopped like a dead fish onto her chaise, letting out a long, shrill whine into the cushions. She flopped over onto her back, shoving a throw pillow onto her face, and considered smothering herself out of existence in order to avoid having to face Chat Noir ever again. Maybe she’d come back to Earth reincarnated as an actual ladybug, and she could flee from the city to go live in the country. Cannes was supposed to be nice this time of year.

Before her plans could come to fruition, specifically the one about becoming the insect she already felt like, she sluggishly removed the pillow from her face to get some air.

Only to be greeted by a small, floating… cat??

No, not a cat.

A kwami.

Chat Noir’s kwami.

“Boo,” he said flatly.

Marinette sat up, careful to not bump into the tiny god.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, although she suspected Plagg wasn’t so much staring as sizing her up. Gauging her adequacy, perhaps? He’d worked alongside countless other Ladybugs these past few millennia, so the thought made her a bit nervous.

“You must be Plagg,” she said, concealing her surprise.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Plagg replied with a showy twirl. “I am quite noteworthy.”

Marinette’s eyes crinkled in amusement. That wasn’t quite was she’d been expecting.

She extended her hand with a smile. “Hi, I’m Marinette.”

Plagg took her hand and turned it over, examining her palm. “Hmph, no Camembert?” he asked with obvious disappointment. “Introductions can wait. My stomach cannot. ”

Marinette snickered. She hadn’t expected such an ornery attitude from a kwami; nevertheless, she decided she liked him already.

She tugged open her shirt pocket and said, “Hop in. Let’s go fetch some from the kitchen.”

Plagg approached the pocket and Tikki poked her little head out.

Marinette chuckled. “I’m sure you remember Tikki.”

“Always a pleasure, Sugarcube,” he bowed deeply with an exaggerated flourish that was so entirely Chat-like, she could definitely tell that their mannerisms had rubbed off on each other.

“Hello again, Stinky Sock,” Tikki replied.

“Hey, Camembert is the most amazing fragrance known to man. It’s a shame you’re not enlightened enough to truly appreciate the beauty of fermented foods.”

Tikki rolled her eyes, but nevertheless scooted over to let him in.

Upon reaching the kitchen and making sure the coast was clear, Marinette ushered the pair out of her pocket. She pulled out a plate and made her way to the refrigerator with Plagg hovering nearby, watching her curiously.

Marinette had anticipated that he’d be hungry, so she'd gone shopping that morning after visiting Fu, specifically to stock up on cheese. Even still, she had grossly underestimated just how ravenous the kwami would be; her eyes widened as the pile on the plate grew higher and higher.

Once finished, Marinette set it down on the countertop, trying to avoid thinking too hard about how all that food would fit inside his small body.

“Uhh, do you also want some crackers, or some fruit, or…?” she trailed off, unsure of how else to be of service.

“Nothing more is needed when you already have perfection,” Plagg remarked before picking up a particularly pungent piece of cheese and taking a deep, long whiff.

Tikki’s tiny features scrunched in distaste as she put some more distance between herself and the odorous meal.

Marinette stood beside them, not quite sure what to do with herself or what to say. Maybe Plagg could answer some questions without revealing too much.

Deciding to give it a try, she asked, “So... Plagg. What can you tell me about Hawkmoth? You don’t have to go into any details. Just anything that you think would be helpful to know, so we can figure out a plan to defeat him?”

Plagg frowned, then followed up with an appalled grimace. “Seriously?! Right in front of my Camembert??” He harrumphed. “Let’s talk about that jackass some other time. Believe it or not, I lose my appetite anytime I think about him.”

“Fair enough,” Marinette relented. She puckered her lips, deep in thought as she took a seat on the barstool nearby. “Oh, I know! What kinds of hobbies does Chat have? Maybe I can get him some supplies or other stuff that he likes, so he can relax and feel more at home.”

“Hmm… Well, you already know he likes games, both videogames and tabletop,” Plagg replied in between bites. “He likes to read. The classics, fantasy, sci-fi, fanfiction, comic books...” Another bite. “He spends a ridiculous amount of time writing poetry and short stories. Also…” Chomp . “Sappy movies... Anime.” Gulp . “He’s not a great singer, but that doesn’t stop him from busting into song and dance numbers from his favorite musicals. He is a decent dancer though.” Another gulp, punctuated with a smirk. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

Marinette averted her gaze, a surge of tingles invading her entire body as she remembered that first night together. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet she remembered that evening full of dancing as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.

Plagg gobbled up the last bit on the plate, then wiped his paws on the napkin Marinette had provided. He followed up with a mighty stretch of his small limbs, sighing in contentment.

Marinette’s posture straightened upon seeing that he’d finished his meal. “We should head back to the bedroom. Chat will be looking for you soon.” She hopped off the barstool and the trio made their way back towards Chat’s bedroom.

Marinette grimaced as she placed her hand on the doorknob and let out a pathetic groan. “I better figure out what to say when I apologize for walking in on him.”

They entered the bedroom and she shut the door behind them. She raised her eyebrows, looking hopefully at Plagg. “Do you think he’ll be furious with me?”

Plagg shrugged off her concern. “Oh, puh- lease . I bet he’d actually be quite pleased that you got a good look at him half naked, if he knew who you really were.”

Marinette could only splutter incoherently, her arms waving around like noodles. “WHAT?! WH-WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??”

Plagg gave her a smug look and crossed his little arms . “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Bugaboo , but my boy is majorly crushing on ya.”

“A-a crush…? On me? O-or rather, on Ladybug…?” Heat instantly rushed to her cheeks and all the way to the top of her ears. “I-I wasn’t sure, he hasn’t said anything about it, and, um…”

Plagg shrugged. “Kid’s pretty insecure. Way more than when he first became Chat Noir, thanks to that no-good father of his.” He sighed. “Simply put, he thinks you’re way out of his league and that you’d never go for a guy like him.”

Marinette sputtered, “Out of HIS league?? Have you SEEN him?!” She whipped her arm around, pointing it towards the bathroom door. “He’s more chiseled than a Greek statue! He could be a model!”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s the cat’s pajamas, I know,” Plagg scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, he’s still sorting out his feelings, and definitely too afraid to say anything out loud.” A teasing glint twinkled in his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know what it’s like to be too shy to confess to someone, would you?” he inquired slyly.

Marinette felt the heat travel down her neck and towards her back, and she pursed her lips in shame, having nothing to retort with.

“Plagg!” Tikki rebuked, whizzing in front of him. “Whether Marinette can confess to her own crush is no concern of yours!”

“He’s right, though, Tikki,” Marinette admitted. “I guess it’s not always always totally obvious until you actually say it to them. I just… freeze every time I try to confess to Adri– t-to this guy. It’s like I haven’t progressed at all after all these years.”

“Don’t worry, little bug,” the cat kwami reassured her. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words. I’m sure this mystery man knows you care about him.” He rolled his eyes again and added, “Even if he’s too oblivious to realize it’s a romantic attraction.”

Before Marinette could reply, they heard the bathroom door crack open.

“Plagg...?” a familiar soft voice called through the small opening.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Marinette whispered. “It was great meeting you, Plagg.”

“Likewise. See ya!”

With that, Plagg zoomed towards the bathroom and phased through the door, and Marinette quietly snuck out.

Minutes later, a rather sheepish Chat Noir emerged from the bedroom. Their eyes met and he stiffened, his body gluing to the spot.

Marinette leaped out of the couch and rushed over to him, utterly mortified, body trembling, spewing out apology after apology without taking a breath in between, looking seconds away from bursting into tears from remorse.

Chat placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “It’s okay, Marinette, really! I guess I forgot to lock the door. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to traumatize you or anything.”

Marinette’s eyes blew wide open. “Traumatize me?? No way, you are SO FINE! – Umm!!” Her hands shot up, waving back and forth. “What I mean is, I’m fine!!” She composed herself and continued, “Anyway, I just feel really bad about intruding and violating your privacy. So, please, please, pleeeaaase, is there a way I make it up to you?”

Chat was just about to reassure her again, but paused. He gave her a timid smile. “Actually, there is one thing… Could you teach me how to do laundry?”

(Under Paris Skies - Pearl Django)

As he had only one set of clothes, Adrien resigned himself to the fact that it was time to do some shopping. He didn’t want to go by himself, however; it didn’t feel safe. He had no idea if Gabriel knew he was still alive. He might have dispatched people to search for Adrien and... “collect” him back to the mansion.

Plus, he disliked shopping and could use some company.

So here he was, standing outside of Chloe Bourgeois’ room at the Grand Paris Hotel.

He’d scarcely knocked once when the door swung open, a clearly miffed Chloe standing on the other side.

“You’re late!! Where have you been– Oh, Adrikins! It’s you!” Her face softened and gave him a brilliant smile, kissing his cheeks in greeting, then brought him into a tight hug. “Come in! It’s been ages!”

Before he could get a word in edgewise, he was quickly ushered into the room.

They sat on the elegant, pristine couches of her lounge room. Chloe crossed her legs and reclined into the cushions, placing her hands behind her head in her usual carefree way.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure, my dearest Adrichou?”

Adrien took a breath and opened his mouth–

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted, holding her hand up, then sat up straight and leaned forward. She took a pause, looking him over. Analyzing. Scrutinizing. She scrunched her face in consternation, brows creasing in the middle. “I know that look,” she finally said, crossing her arms. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Adrien’s eyes grew wide and he suppressed a wince. How were all these women able to read him so well these past few days?? He shrugged indifferently for her benefit, mentally preparing himself to attempt to convince her that everything was fine and she was just imagining things.

Before he could say anything though, Chloe interjected sharply, “And don’t you dare try to lie to me, Adrien Agreste. I’m your oldest friend; I’ll know. Tell me everything, or I’ll kick you out.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled. How is she doing this?!

Eyeing Chloe to make sure she didn’t have anything else to say, he began, “Father and I had a... disagreement.”

“I knew it!!” Chloe declared, throwing her hands up in the air.

He continued with a cringe, “And I... kinda sorta ran away from home.” He looked up at her timidly, hoping she wouldn’t yell at him for his recklessness.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” she asked instead, without missing a beat, her voice now serious and full of concern. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Just say the word and it’s done.”

Adrien smiled broadly. Despite all her faults, Chloe’s loyalty never faltered.

“I really appreciate that, Chlo. It means a lot.” He sighed, plopping backwards onto the couch. “I can’t though. Father knows this is the first place I’d go. But don’t worry, I’ve got… housing arrangements elsewhere. So I’ll be fine.”

She sat up straight, scooting towards the edge of the couch and leaning towards him expectantly. “Yeah?? Where at? It’s okay, I can keep a secret–” She stopped herself. “Err… wait. Actually, no. No, I can’t. So don’t tell me or I’ll accidentally blab everything to the first person who asks.”

Adrien chuckled. “Alright. Anyway, since I left in such a hurry, I didn’t bring any clothes with me. So I was wondering if–”

“OOOH, A SHOPPING TRIP!!” Chloe squealed, clapping and practically bouncing in her seat. “Yes, I’d love to join you!”

Adrien gave her a grateful grin. “You would? That would be awesome!”

“Oh one condition,” Chloe said, raising a finger for emphasis. “I get to pick out everything.”

“Wha–?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Everything??”

She casually examined her nails as she answered, "It’s for your own good. We can’t have you looking like a hobo. ‘Cause I KNOW all you're gonna pick is nerdy t-shirts, baggy hoodies, and ripped jeans. And that simply will not do."

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Oh, alright. I agree to your terms.”

“Wonderful!” she replied, eyes twinkling with delight.

Just then, there was a knock. They both stiffened, glancing at the door, then back at each other with trepidation. Chloe wordlessly guided Adrien into the bedroom portion of her suite, making sure he remained concealed behind the adjacent wall.

She all but tiptoed towards the door, careful not to make the floors creak. Adrien held his breath as he cast a furtive peek from behind the wall, watching Chloe cautiously peer through the peephole. She sighed in relief, throwing the door open and placing her hands on her hips in indignation.

“You are LATE!” Chloe declared, then soundly smooched the person outside the door.

“My sincerest apologies. The appointment ran long,” the guest replied as she entered the room.

Adrien recognized that voice.

Chloe scoffed. “UGH, stop it with the politeness! You always sound like you’re about to make a business deal.”

Kagami gave Chloe an unamused stare. “As you wish... ma’am,” she replied with a mischievous smile.

Chloe waved dismissively with a tsk as she made her way to retrieve her hidden friend. “Anyway, suit up. We’re going shopping!”

“Shopping? What for?” Kagami asked.

“Adrien needs a new wardrobe and he cannot be trusted on his own.”

“Hey!” Adrien objected.

Kagami shook her head. “Oh, I agree, he is definitely going to need help. Otherwise he’ll end up dressing like a hooligan.”

“Exactly!” Chloe gestured wildly to show approval.

“Hey! Not you too, Kagami!” Adrien protested.

“Let’s face it, Adrien,” Kagami replied, folding her arms behind her. “Don’t get me wrong; I know you are perfectly aware of what fashionable clothes are supposed to look like. But your…” she wrinkled her nose, “...geek ‘impulses’–”

"FETISHES!" Chloe included.

“-are just too strong for you to resist. You need us.”

Before he had a chance to argue, Chloe called for them, already opening the door. “Well? Let’s go already!”

The trio exited Chloe’s limousine and made their way into the shopping center. They pointedly avoided the “Gabriel” shop and instead entered the Audrey Bourgeois Boutique.

The girls went straight to business, grabbing and piling clothes left and right, scouring through rows of garments and quickly creating matching ensembles with clearly practiced efficiency. Before long, they had a large pile of outfits waiting to be tried on and modeled on the fitting room platform.

“But Chlo, I don’t have my wallet on me,” Adrien whispered into Chloe’s ear. “How am I gonna pay for all this?”

Chloe scoffed. “Pfft, who needs a wallet?” She turned to the nearest store employee. “Hey, you. Add everything we pick out to the Gabriel Agreste tab, will you?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Bourgeois,” the employee replied politely.

Chloe turned back towards Adrien and gave him a wink, then sat down next to Kagami in front of the gigantic mirrors of the dressing area, sliding her hand into her girlfriend’s.

A couple of hours and countless outfit changes later, the three teens exited the boutique. Adrien carried more shopping bags than he could keep track off, all of them plastered with with Audrey's icon; and a part of him hoped that with this many bags from one of Gabriel's competitors, it would somehow get back to his father. Served him right.

Back at the hotel, the concierge assisted in bringing the haul into Chloe’s suite. Chloe whispered something to him as Kagami and Adrien made their way to the bedroom area to begin the task of unwrapping and organizing the new wardrobe. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door, which Chloe answered. A few moments later, she returned with a large yet unassuming black suitcase.

“Here you go, Adrikins,” she said, placing the suitcase on the bed. “You can store your clothes in here and take them back to whatever quaint little cottage you’re staying at.”

Adrien chuckled. “Thanks, Chlo. You’re the best!”

Chloe waved off his compliment. “Yes, well... We already knew that, didn’t we?” She hid a smile, busying herself with packing his clothes into the suitcase.

When they had finished and it was time for Adrien to go, he gave each of them a tight hug and thanked them again for all their help.

“Before you go...” Chloe reached into her back pocket, taking out a cell phone covered in glitter and faux diamonds, and handed it over to him. “Here, I had this old thing lying around. You'll need a SIM card, but the phone works fine.”

Adrien turned the phone in his hands, examining the exceedingly bejeweled exterior. “Wha-? Chloe, I can’t use this! I might go blind from all the sparkles.”

She scoffed. “Well, it’s not like you can be nitpicky at a time like this.”

“What’s the matter, Agreste? Too good for a bit of razzle dazzle?” Kagami heckled.

“You can make anything work, Adrikins. You’ll probably even start a hot new trend.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and pocketed the phone.

“Remember to call if you need anything.” Chloe gave him a stern look and jabbed a finger into his chest. “ANYTHING, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he quipped with a salute, exiting the suite with his luggage.

“Ugh, you two will be the death of me,” Chloe groaned dramatically. “Now go, enjoy your last couple of days of freedom. I’ll see you at school.”

“Bye, girls!” He waved back at them. “I’ll let you know my new number as soon as I buy a new SIM card for the phone.”

With that, Adrien turned and walked down the hall towards the elevators.

Back at the door’s threshold, the pair watched him walk away in silence.

Kagami reached for Chloe’s hand and squeezed. “Do you think everything’s going to be alright? I worry about him. Mr. Agreste has not been himself for quite some time.”

Chloe squeezed back and sighed. “I dunno.” Then she added with a sneer, “Gabriel Agreste is a sad, old bastard whose soul died long ago along with Aunt Emilie. But, he’s connected and powerful. Who knows what he’ll do to try to get Adrien back under his thumb.”

Kagami let out a small, disapproving grunt. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Chloe lightly tugged her back into the room. “Oh, relax, you sound like a Star Wars character.”

“Star Wars? Now who’s the nerd?” Kagami teased.

Chloe sputtered. “Hush, you.”

( Life with Masks - Mystic Messenger OST)

After Chat dropped off the suitcase in his room at the bakery, Adrien embarked on his next mission: Going to the bank and withdrawing enough money to purchase everything else on his list, which included a new SIM card for Chloe’s old (and extremely bedazzled) phone, and a laptop for school.

He made his way to the bank, wearing the hood up on his zip-up hoodie, and pulling it down over his eyes whenever he saw any suspicious looking men in suits.

At the bank, Adrien filled out all the necessary forms, grateful that he’d taken the time to memorize his savings account number years back, when they’d first opened it.

However, today he encountered a different problem.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Agreste,” the bank teller said. “Like I said, I’m afraid that all your assets and accounts have been frozen. You can only withdraw money if your father accompanies you, or if he unlocks them himself.”

Adrien sighed dejectedly. “Isn’t there anything you can do?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” she replied. “You would have to speak to your father to have him undo the restrictions. We can’t do anything until then... or until you turn eighteen years old. At that time, you can regain access without needing his permission, since you would officially be an adult.”

Adrien pursed his lips into a thin line. His birthday was still a month away.

All his savings, all the hard-earned money from his modeling work... Gabriel was keeping it all hostage, hoping Adrien would come crawling back to him, like some pitiful prodigal son.

Well, two could play that game. He filled out all the necessary paperwork to reclaim what was his, so everything would be all set up when his birthday came around. He also made sure that Gabriel would be permanently locked out of his accounts at that time.

He thanked the teller and left the bank, feeling morose and surly. He couldn’t even afford to get his used phone working, and was therefore cut off from all communication; save for whatever computers were available at an internet cafe or library. What else could he do?

Maybe Nathalie could help him figure out if there was anything else he could do legally. If he could even get ahold of her. He’d been worried about her while he was recovering at the Dupain-Chengs’; now was his chance to try to contact her.

Adrien walked to the nearest library and convinced the starstruck librarian to let him use their telephone.

The phone rang… and rang… and rang…

So he tried again. And again. And again.

But the same monotone voice repeated the same discouraging phrase:

“The number you have dialed has been disconnected.”

The boy frowned. Was Nathalie alright? He’d left her all alone with his father. He wouldn’t do anything to her, would he?

Mind whirling and chest tight, he sped to the computers to create a new email account (not risking logging into his usual one), and sent her a simple, nondescript message:

“u ok?”

He couldn’t help but remain glued to the computer, clicking and clicking to refresh the page, hoping for something, anything in response. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Crossed his legs. Uncrossed them. Crossed them again. Fiddled with his shoelaces. Opened a new browser tab to distract himself by reading the news, only to switch back every 30 seconds. Minutes ticked by. But still, nothing.

Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t stay in the library forever.

This wasn’t bad news, right? No news oftentimes meant good news. Receiving a reply in such a short amount of time was rather unlikely... Even though Nathalie always replied within five minutes, because she never turned off her email notifications… Ever. But her not replying this time surely didn’t mean anything, right?

Right… It’s fine, everything’s fine. Nathalie’s fine.

She has to be.

Adrien trudged aimlessly down a nondescript sidewalk, lost in thought, his attention eventually drifting back to his livelihood. Could he make do without a single cent for an entire month? Probably not… He’d have to find a job.

But who would hire celebrity Adrien Agreste to work in retail or flip burgers? They’d either laugh at him, or think he was pulling some elaborate prank on a hidden camera show. How would he even begin to explain that he’d left his home and was on the run from his very own father?

Adrien had seemingly no reason why he would choose to run away. He was a privileged young man who had everything: a famous and well-respected family, wealth, good genetics, people at his beck and call… the list went on. To the outside world, Gabriel was a devoted husband and father; a bit of a hermit after his wife’s “disappearance”, but not unusual for someone who was mourning a loved one.

Chloe hadn’t asked him why he’d left, but other people would. Obviously, the truth was out of the question. So, what was there to say instead? That he was just a spoiled rich kid having a rebellious phase?

It was a mess and there didn’t seem to be a way out; he was cornered. He knew it, and he knew that Gabriel knew it.

His only ace in the hole was that Gabriel didn’t know Adrien actually had a place to stay, thanks to the Dupain-Chengs. But he couldn’t rely on them forever. And, as he was quite literally penniless at the moment, his options were severely limited.

He was broke, with a famous identity and an infamous alter-ego, and near impossible to contact since he didn’t have a functioning phone. Things were looking bleak. If only he could–

“AAAACK!!!”

Adrien turned the corner on the sidewalk when a blur of pink and black slammed against him hard. Both bodies clattered to the ground, along with a myriad of bags and boxes the other person was carrying.

Adrien raised his head sluggishly with a small grunt, then opened his eyes to find–

“Marinette??” he said, eyes widening in surprise.

The girl groaned as she lifted her head, slowly pushing herself off of him. One of her eyes cracked open, then both popped wide open in recognition.

“A-ADRIEN!!” she squeaked, her face turning ruby red in an instant. “Gosh, I am so sorry!!” she yelped, practically leaping off of him. “Are you okay?!”

She offered her hand and he took it. “I’m alright, no worries,” he replied, adjusting his glasses, which had shifted on his face when he fell.

He knelt down to help her pick up the items that had spilled out of their containers. “So, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh! I- uh,” she stammered. “I was just getting some things for a friend!”

Adrien took note of some of the books, games, and movie titles as he put them back in their boxes. “Your friend has good taste.”

She squawked out a weird laugh and mumbled in agreement.

As they rose from the pavement, something caught Marinette’s eye. “Oh!” she exclaimed, bending over to pick it up. “Here, you dropped this.” She opened her palm to reveal several Euro bills and coins, and a ticket stub.

He stared at the contents of her hand. “Are you sure these are mine?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, there’s about… maybe a hundred euros or so, and a ticket stub for that new movie, ‘Les Deux Sots’. ” A flash of recognition flickered across her features, and her cheeks flushed. She continued haltingly, “D-do you remember wearing this particular hoodie to the movie theater recently?”

Adrien contained a gasp and mindlessly ran his hands over the fabric, realizing that this was the same hoodie he wore on his date with Ladybug. He hadn’t worn it since then. Not until three days ago: the day of the last akuma attack, and his subsequent fight with Hawkmoth.

“Oh,” he replied quietly, accepting the items. “Thank you, Mari,” he uttered, almost in awe.

She smiled widely at him. “No, thank you for helping me pick up all this stuff I dropped! Sorry again for knocking you over,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about it, it was my pleasure. So, where are you going with all this?”

“Uh… Home, actually,” she replied. “My friend is gonna... pick them up later today.” She stepped forward to take the boxes and bags from his arms.

“Can I help you carry it back? It’s a lot of stuff; and you could barely see over the top of it,” he offered.

Marinette fidgeted with her hands, stammering, “O-oh, I mean, I-I wouldn’t want to impose, that is– I’m sure you’re very busy and have important things to do, I don’t want to bother you, and it is a lot of stuff, plus it’s pretty heavy, and–”

“Really, it’s no trouble at all; I’m not busy right now. And I’d love the company.” He added, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh!! A-are you sure?? Wow, you’re amazing! I-I mean, th-that would be amazing! Thank you!” she said, practically vibrating with elation.

“I’m happy to do it!” Adrien replied as they began the trek to the bakery. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other,” he replied with a wink.

Marinette’s head swiveled towards him, looking like she’d swallowed a golf ball, then exploded into a loud giggle-snort, which made him snicker in turn.

The pair walked together, enjoying some friendly, light-hearted conversation, with Marinette becoming more and more comfortable as they went. He was always thankful anytime she was able to relax around him and just be herself.

He dropped her off and they parted with a tight hug, which caused Marinette to let out a flustered squeak. While she wasn’t aware of it, thanks to her discovery, he’d be able to buy himself that prepaid SIM card for Chloe’s old phone and become reachable again. And the first thing he would do with that phone would be to send Marinette a text message, thanking her for everything she continually did for him and their friends, and for always being such a sweet person.

(Somewhere Only We Know- Keane (Max Schneider, Elizabeth Gillies, and Kurt Schneider cover)

Evening came and the city of Paris buzzed with activity, as it was the last weekend of summer vacation. Ladybug breathed in the crisp night air, hopping from roof to roof to rendezvous with her partner. A few blocks away from the Louvre, the quiet, unassuming edifice of the Saint Germain l'Auxerrois stood tall and stoic, as it always did; its stately gothic arches and ancient pillars contrasting with the chaotic energy and noise of its modern surroundings.

Ladybug spotted the distant figure of Chat Noir at the balcony of the church’s bell tower, where they’d agreed to meet. He leaned on the railing, looking content as he observed the scenery.

She nimbly landed beside him and chirped, “Hey, you!”

He turned around, his countenance brightening instantly. “My Lady! It’s so great to see your lovely face again.”

Ladybug’s insides fluttered upon hearing him use her usual nickname, the feeling becoming increasingly familiar the more time she spent with him, both in and out of the costume.

“Um, I brought some snacks from a little shop down the street,” she said, lifting up a small bag to demonstrate.

“Yum! That sounds wonderful, thank you!” Chat reached into his belt pocket, bringing out a small, rectangular box. “And I brought some playing cards!”

“Cool! I love card games! Where’d you get them?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

Chat rubbed the back of his neck and smiled wide, his cheeks becoming rosy; a look that was simply adorable on him. “Marinette gave them to me, actually. She got me some boxes full of really amazing stuff she thought I’d like. And I swear, she’s gotta have magical powers or something, ‘cause they were all totally spot on.” He rubbed his arm absently. “She’s so nice... I can’t believe she went out of her way just to help me feel more at home.”

Ladybug’s cheeks grew warm, feeling almost guilty for hearing him talk about her secret identity in such a favorable way without him knowing. Unsure of how to reply, she wordlessly offered the bag so he could pick out a snack.

“So, how did the cashier react to seeing Ladybug walking into their shop?” he asked, reaching inside. “Was he surprised?”

She chuckled. “I didn’t buy them as Ladybug, silly. I got them as myself. My civilian self, that is.”

“Oh! O-of course,” he replied with an embarrassed smile. “It’s easy to forget you’re not always Ladybug. Th-that is– obviously you’re always Ladybug, b-but not necessarily walking around as Ladybug, it’s just… y-you– uhh…”

She giggled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. We don’t know what the other looks like, so it’s hard to mentally picture anything else.” She placed a finger on her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “I bet that in real life, you’re actually a pirate with a peg leg. A daring, swashbuckling outlaw with a hook for a hand and a secret cave full of gold,” she said jokingly. “Oh! But you like music, right? So, maybe you’re actually a professional violinist. World renowned! Or, since you’re pretty athletic, I bet you’re secretly a circus acrobat! Are you in Cirque du Soleil, by any chance?”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. Then he leaned forward, quirking a flirtatious smile and waggling his eyebrows, and replied, “Obviously, I’m the quick-witted and dashing Han Solo type. Breaking hearts and taking names. People stop in the streets, jaws dropping, and they gape as I walk by, admiring my charms.”

“PFFT!” Ladybug snickered at his clowning and replied, lilting, “Oh, I’m sure. I can see it now.” Her voice went into a falsetto and she swooned, clasping her hands together, “Oh, Monsieur Solo Noir, you are such a handsome rogue! Won’t you whisk me away in your Catmobile into the sunset?”

He gave a small, amused hum. “So... you think I’m handsome, huh?” he asked, turning his body towards her, and straightened up his spine, placing a hand on his hip and cocking it with a smug grin.

Heat exploded throughout the girl’s body, all the blood rushing to her face. Plagg’s words about Chat’s crush suddenly popped to the forefront of her mind, and her thoughts became a jumble.

She stammered, “W-well, I mean, obviously you must already be aware th-that you’re conventionally attractive, b-but I-I, that is, it’s not like I just sit and ogle you like some kind of perv or something, but you’re definitely— y-you’re very– uhhh...” She continued babbling, hands flapping like flags.

Chat couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so adorable when you get all flustered, Buginette. And I really mean that in the best way.”

Ladybug pursed her lips together into a thin line. AUGH, this… this GUY!!! Why did she have to act so foolish around the two blond boys that she’d hung out with today?! She never knew she had a type. But that must be it, right?? That she apparently had a thing for tall, green-eyed blondes? Was that what was going on, or was she actually crushing on Chat Noir while already in love with Adrien? Was that even possible?? Was she simply projecting her desire to be loved onto Chat because she knew he had a crush on her, whereas Adrien did not? That would be unfair to him; he didn’t deserve to be some rebound love. She needed to figure out whether her feelings were genuine, or if she was just being shallow and largely motivated by hormones.

UGH!! Why was everything so incredibly confusing?! Not that it mattered. By this point, they both probably thought she was a giant clod, what with her tendency to constantly make an utter fool of herself.

Thankfully, Chat took pity on her and changed the subject back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. And actually, you were partly right. I am into music. Although I play piano, not violin.” He turned back towards the scenery, leaning on the balcony railing, and asked, “So, how about you? What are you like?”

Settling down from her utter failure at being suave, she replied, sighing, “Well… it’s hard to say. I’m a bit of a hot mess, actually.”

“Pfft, you?? No way! You always seem so on top of everything,” he replied, incredulous. “Although... I definitely believe the ‘hot’ part,” he teased with a wink.

Stifling a squeak, Ladybug’s insides seemed to seize up, and she fought the urge to jump off the belltower to prevent him from noticing her surely crimson-colored face. Attempting to sound aloof, she replied, “You flirt. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Would it upset you if I did?” he asked, voice inscrutable.

Her eyes popped open and she whipped her head around, the heat in her body inexplicably replaced with an uncomfortable chill down her spine. Was she... jealous?! She didn’t have any right to be. She had no claims on him. But knowing that didn’t make the thought of Chat lauding praise and paying special attention to someone else any less unpleasant, and she couldn’t help but feel mad at herself for feeling as such.

“Uh… I’m–” her gaze darted away nervously, trying to figure out what to say without embarrassing herself.

He scooted closer to her, shoulders almost touching, and leaned back on the balcony. He playfully bumped his hip against hers. “No need to be jealous, Bugaboo. Believe it or not, I’m actually kinda shy in real life, and pretty socially awkward; almost painfully so. Any attempts at flirting are clumsy at best, if I ever even bother to try.”

“I-I wasn’t jealous!” she huffed.

Veeerrrrry convincing, Marinette, she thought to herself.

“B-but anyway, I never knew that you were actually shy,” she continued. “You always seemed so confident.” It seemed there was a lot more to discover about her new partner; things she never would have guessed based on his demeanor, back when they were enemies.

Chat shifted the topic away from himself and began shuffling the cards as he sat on the floor. “So, before I interrupted you with my lame attempt at flirting, you were gonna talk about yourself. What do you do when you’re not Ladybug-ing and saving Paris from corrupted butterflies?”

Ladybug giggled and joined him on the floor as he dealt the cards. “Well, I enjoy making crafts, especially designing and making clothes. I’m great at baking. I love scrapbooking and journals. My favorite subject in school is art...”

A few hours, several games, and countless laughs later, the pair reluctantly agreed that it was time to part ways.

“Thanks for meeting up with me tonight, Ladybug,” Chat said, voice a bit quiet. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time, so it really means a lot,” he added, timidly rubbing the back of his neck.

Ladybug’s stomach did a tiny flip. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy that he’d enjoyed himself because of her, or if she was sad because he’d hardly ever been allowed to have fun.

She shifted her weight, twiddling her fingers and replied, “I had a lot of fun too, Chat. I’m really glad we did this. We should turn it into a regular thing.”

He replied, voice husky, “I’d love that.” A shade of pink spread across his face, and he cleared his throat. He abruptly straightened up and sauntered towards her, wearing a smirk. “Soooo… can I walk you home?” he asked playfully. “I do want to be a gentleman for My Lady, after all.”

Ladybug snorted and lightly shoved his shoulder. “Nice try, Chaton. But a Lady’s gotta have her secrets.”

Before he could reply, Ladybug’s communicator beeped urgently with a notification, which could only mean one thing:

An akuma attack.

Ladybug sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “Welp… looks like our time together just got an extension.” She winked at Chat and asked, “Ready to go kick some akuma butt?”

He smiled, his hand reaching for hers and giving it a tight squeeze. “With pleasure.”

[skrltwtch]

Sleep Talk

Prompt: Persons A and B are cuddling on the couch together watching a movie late at night. Person B (who tends to sleep talk) falls asleep, and A doesn’t notice. B begins saying progressively weirder stuff until they finally mutter “I love you.” A internally freaks out and grabs B’s hand, then says, “I love you, too.” Person B wakes up confused and terrified because it was the first time they ever said “I love you” to each other. (Source of prompt in link at bottom of post.)

Word count: 2,026 words

Author's note: Spoilers for Wonder Woman. I also didn't quite follow the prompt to a T.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

‘It’s movie night!’ I said in a sing-song voice upon entering the living room, fresh out of the shower and in my best jammies, a set cut from cat-printed periwinkle blue cloth. George, sadly, wasn’t wearing his matching set. Shame; I’d packed this set with the intention of us spending this iteration of a three-year-old tradition in couple jammies. That’d have been such a sight — and the Instagram story.

‘The best night of the week — which also happens to be Friday night,’ he said, grinning. He patted the space next to him. ‘Saved you a seat. Best one in the house.’

‘Thank you, my darling.’ I put down the bowl of popcorn mixed with funfetti and chocolate, a recipe I nicked off the Internet, and bottle of Coke, and joined him on the couch, its real estate reduced to fit us both as snugly as bugs in a rug by all the pillows he’d added to the living room’s already hefty count. His idea of home improvement made it difficult for me to ever want to leave this couch and live life off of it. Could I put in a request to work from home like this next week? Senior management were strong advocates of ‘flexible arrangements’ and ‘work-life balance’ after all, and none were more deserving of the latter after the week’s events than I.

‘What are you in the mood for?’

‘What are you in the mood for? It’s your turn this week to choose,’ he said.

‘I was being democratic.’

‘For once, you can pretend my opinion doesn’t matter.’

‘“For once”?’

‘Oi.’ He sank deeper into his seat.

The corners of my mouth ached from chortling a little too much at his expense. I almost choked, actually, to which he said under his breath, ‘Karma’, his face gleaming with smug glee. Fair enough.

I reached for the remote and also handed him the popcorn to keep his mouth busy while I picked our poison; I knew, too, that what he’d said about his opinion not mattering this time had to be a bluff. George? Not having an opinion about movies? The next Pope being Buddhist was far likelier. I counted myself fortunate that we had similar tastes.

So, what was I feeling this week? Last week was Ingrid Goes West, which reinforced his decision to stay the fuck away from social media and reinforced my crush on Elizabeth Olsen. It was one of the unspoken rules to not repeat genres to keep things interesting. If there were no such rule, I’d have watched the entirety of Netflix’s sci-fi thrillers, and he its dark comedies, twice over. I navigated to the superhero movies section. I wanted something loud, light, and that wasn’t too long because of the late start.

The cursor found itself on Wonder Woman. Excellent: it was familiar — this would be our second time watching; we had no compunctions about re-watching stuff on movie night, as long as it was within ‘reason’ (whatever that meant — for instance, watching Thor: Ragnarok five times was perfectly acceptable to me) — and didn’t require a tremendous amount of cerebral effort to follow. It was what the doctor ordered for capping off a long, pretty shitty week. I needed the reminder that it was possible, and worthwhile, to find hope in and remain optimistic about such a bleak, ugly world. Besides, what was more cathartic than watching a superheroine, the world’s first, doing her thing in a movie that was, for the most part, also tastefully done? I didn’t want to enter the weekend continuing feeling like shit, so I hit play without further ado.

‘Hey, don’t finish that,’ I said to George, who’d been popping fistfuls of kernels and chocolates into his mouth like there wasn’t a finite supply.

‘You were taking so long to decide.’

‘I’ve decided!’ I gestured at the Warner Bros logo that flashed on-screen.

‘I’m hungry.’ His pout signalled the being of a sulk. ‘We don’t usually start this late …’

I put down the remote and curled up next to him. Our arms made their way onto each other’s bodies: mine across his abdomen, and his over my shoulder. He took my hand and lay a soft kiss on my fingers before setting it back down on his lower stomach, where he preferred it belonged. Fine by me. I burrowed deeper into his side. His scent, fresh and a little sweet from all the candy he’d taken, provided warm solace, as always.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been made to stay late.’

His fingertips skimmed the curve of my jawline. ‘It’s okay. I was kidding. I know your manager’s a prick with no respect for other people’s time,’ he said. A finger landed on my lip; it tasted faintly of vanilla. ‘Now, shh. Movie’s started.’

For something we’d watched before, Wonder Woman continued to hold our attention. Neither of us succumbed to the temptation of checking our phones nor started conversing with each other about our day, whether the Internet would implode if Chris Pine were to ever join the Marvel Cinematic Universe, weekend plans, whatever. None of that was verboten on movie night. Our attention spans weren’t perfect, and we’d never pretend they were; and some movies, like it or not, were better enjoyed as background noise in the comfort of one’s home. Sometimes we could accomplish so much on movie nights.

‘How’d you think I’d look in that?’ George piped up during the famous No Man’s Land sequence.

‘In what?’

‘Her outfit.’

‘That’s something you could consider for next Halloween.’

He grunted.

‘I’d love to see it.’

‘I want cheese. Cheese in bread. Cheese on bread. Pizza?’

‘You can’t be that hungry.’ I patted his stomach. It emitted a loud, watery rumble.

‘’m puckish.’

‘“Peckish”?’

‘That’s what I said.’ His speech had a slurred quality to it.

‘There’s still popcorn left.’

‘Not chicken wings.’ How’d wings come into the picture? ‘Or Sprite.’

‘Gross, Sprite.’

Despite his and his stomach’s grievances, he didn’t take the popcorn or Coke, or get up to order whatever it was that he wanted. I wasn’t about to surrender the position into which I’d worked myself. Likewise, I was genuinely into Wonder Woman (I attributed that to the fatigue I felt toward all things Marvel after Endgame and my excitement for Wonder Woman 1984) to consider taking any interruptions in my stride. His stomach did stop its fussing after a while.

‘Are my Neopets dead? Is there a Neopets Heaven?’

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. Because he didn’t need to know I was still on Neopets and could therefore tell him with full confidence that no, Neopets wouldn’t starve to death, and no, the concepts of death and Heaven didn’t, and would never, exist on the site because its staff continued to delude themselves about the average age of their current userbase. Look, I put in too much work on my account, which I’d had since the site’s inception, to simply let it rot in the site’s current state of virtual limbo. Actually, maybe I should come clean and reintroduce him to the site … it was getting a little lonely for little ol’ me in Neopia.

‘What do you think happens to Tamagotchi when they die?’

Okay, what the fuck.

I peeled my gaze off of Gal Gadot — a herculean task — and looked up at him. Oh, God. He really was the old man he proclaimed himself to be. I let him sleep. He, too, had had a rough week at work, and I needed him at his best for what we had planned for the weekend … which, for now, was nothing. I was planning for the both of us to work on it when Wonder Woman entered standard blockbuster fare territory! Once again, work had thrown a monkey wrench into the fine-tuned machinery that constituted our countdown to the weekend: sending texts about weekend plans to each other during office hours and bringing them to fruition once our asses found themselves out the door at six o’clock and not a second later. This was called making efficient use of our time at work. Our managers should be so proud.

George’s sleep talking soon eclipsed Wonder Woman in terms of entertainment value. Frankly, Wonder Woman lost its lustre in its third act, where the filmmakers attempted to convince the audience that Remus Lupin and the fearsome Greek god of war were one and the same. That moustache? In what universe —? The nerve of Patty Jenkins, expecting me to extend my suspension of disbelief to such lengths.

Tonight’s highlights included:

‘Fucking parrots, always stealing my hot dogs in the park.’

‘I am not eating that banana without a fork.’

‘Look, that dog is wearing a tea cosy on its head.’ (I really would’ve loved to see this.)

‘Dad’s going to regret not letting mom pursue that degree in apartment science.’

When I couldn’t resist and asked him what apartment science was: ‘You know, when an apartment and science love each other very much …’

‘Government’s come out and made sex on bicycles illegal. That is a goddamn shame.’

‘Pudding’s never hurt anyone. Not physically, not emotionally.’

I was … a little fascinated, honestly. His episodes, as moderate as their occurrences were, tended to consist of brief, simple sentences and max out at four or five. Did I need to be concerned? Or was work taking a heavier toll on him than he’d let on? That was it: our weekend was going to revolve around relaxation. The beach! Massages! Studio Ghibli on Netflix! Spending the entirety of either day in bed was a need, a must; I wouldn’t care to hear otherwise.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you, George.’ I rested my head on his chest and interlaced my fingers with his.

The realisation of what the words that’d left our lips, been said in our voices, and hung in the air above our heads, begging, screaming, to be acknowledged, were drove me to undo what I did and pause the movie. Why did that sound so … natural? Why was I even questioning this? Our relationship — what we had — wasn’t invalid because those words hadn’t been said — until now, where ‘now’ happened to be borne of a sleep talking episode. Love didn’t have an on-off switch. The things we did together, the things we did for each other, the things we did to each other, said volumes louder about what we were than those three words.

Still, it felt fucking magical.

George stirred next to me. ‘Has it ended?’

‘No.’

He snuffled. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit. Did you stop because I —’

How was that sentence supposed to have ended? Because he talked in his sleep? Because of what he said? Do you know what you said, and did you mean it? I wanted to ask. His recollection of what he said while unconscious was a crapshoot; at least it wasn’t convenient whenever it might suit him — like now, perhaps. And I did. I meant what I said. Come on, Y/N. Don’t sweep this under the rug. Don’t play it off as a joke. Do it. Ask him. We were adults, whether or not we liked it. I couldn’t have the weekend start on a note like this.

He pressed me closer to him. His lips brushed the top of my head. ‘I’m an idiot for not saying it sooner — or more often, and when I’m awake,’ he said. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. It sounds divine.’

Heat danced across my cheeks. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Our palms touched. ‘I love you,’ I said softly. ‘I love you, George MacKay.’

I resumed the movie, both better able and more unable to focus on it now. There wasn’t much left to it. Chris Pine had long left the picture, as my interest would’ve, too, notwithstanding what’d transpired.

‘What else did I say?’

‘You wanted to know if your Neopets are dead.’

‘Oh. Well, are they? Can you help me check?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘I know you still play.’

[mrneighbourlove]

The Twilight Baby

The sun shone brightly down on the magnificent castle of Hyrule. Just as the day was starting, the calm winds changed as portal opened up in one of the hall ways. From there, a small child plopped out. The little boy’s eyes blinked, and he closed his eyes from the light of this world. Finally, it hurt so much that he let out a wail for help.

~

“Deer. I-I really must be going to work.” Ocax panted as his lover had him pinned, breath heavy.

"No, you're going to stay with me." Seer had gotten frisky during breakfast. There was something sexy about the way Ocax smelled right after a shower. He was clean, his scent was more potent and... dreadfully lacking of any of Seer's personal scent. Someone might get the wrong idea during mating season and attempt a move on his lover. That was unacceptable. The orca Direnor had started with little kisses down Ocax's throat before turning into nibbles. The dining room table was left unattended with breakfast getting cold, as Seer had promptly picked up the Twili, threw him on the bed, and started to make love to him... albeit, a touch rough since his instincts were getting the best of him. "Kanisa doesn't need you right now, you can wait until after lunch. Or after dinner. Maybe tomorrow morning."

“I-I must protest. I can’t lose another weekend of work. What would she think?” Ocax blushed blue as he felt his lovers shaft push tightly in him.

"That you are rather preoccupied..." Seer purred into Ocax's ear as he held tightly to his lover's hips, giving a teasing, harsh, thrust. "With being filled by me."

Ocax screamed aloud with a shrill voice and cam. Afterwards, he mumbled with a pout. “I just had a shower too...”

"What if I want you to smell like me today?" Seer asked the Twili with a smug tone to his voice. "Leave my mark..." He was certain there were a few love bites on Ocax's throat. Not to mention, his scent was now mingled with his lover's, so there would be no mistaking. "You can always top me too, you know. I'm not stingy that way. Though, I do enjoy feeling you wriggle beneath me."

“You little brat.” Ocax did so, quickly pushing his lover over the bed.

~

Rinku, first princess of and hero of Hyrule, sometimes really hated the snow. Trekking up to Kanisa’s door, she glanced down at the bundle she was carrying once again before knocking.

Kanisa, too, was at the mercy of her husband's loving. However, Vidar was currently occupied with training some rookies, so she had a break for the time being. Her legs still felt like jelly. When she heard the knock on the door, the princess wobbly walked to answer it. Surprised to see her elder sister, the princess then had a look of panic across her face. "Rinku?! Oh gods, is it Mama?! Papa?!"

“What?” Rinku was shocked that was the first jump Kanisa went to. “Not at all. Didn’t realize I was the arbiter for doom and gloom. Give me a hug and let me in from the cold?”

"It's not like you to come without announcement so of course I assumed the worst! You scared me!" Kanisa ushered Rinku inside, out of the cold. "But I am glad that our parents are all right and you're okay. To what do I owe the visit?"

After a hug, Rinku pulled her winter coat off to reveal a nice green tunic. She didn’t like to wear the hat. Placing the cradle down, she opened it up to reveal a sleeping Twili toddler boy. “Well, I got a problem I’m hoping you can help solve.”

"...?!?!?!" Kanisa's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. "You have a kid?!"

“It’s not my kid Kanisa. Look closely. This remind you of anyone?”

"I thought you adopted, but... this... wait." Kanisa gently moved the blanket out of the way a touch more. She sat down with a loud thud, shocked. "This is a Twili. How in the world did you get your hands on a Twili?"

“It suddenly appeared at the castle a week ago. After speculation on what to do, I looked into records of any Twili who might be present in our realm. Imagine my surprise when I found one working with you off all people. Made a quick visit to my baby little darling sister to find this Twili named Ocax. Maybe I can dig some answers from him.”

"Oh goodness..." Kanisa felt terribly sorry for the poor little thing. It was just a baby, how in the world could it survive in this world without care? Not to mention, she thought the parents had to be worried sick. "Ocax fell through a portal, so maybe this little one did too. He has not had any luck on finding a way back to the Twilight Realm as far as I know. Or if he has, he doesn't want to. You can ask him what you wish, but, I"m not sure if he'll have all the answers."

“Alright.” Rinku plopped her hand in her palm. “Where does he live? I’ll go see him.”

"On top of the hill, near the lake." Kanisa pointed out the window to the landmark. "It's the only house with a multiple stone pathways, and one even leading to the water. Seer is blind, so he uses that to help him find his way around."

“Great. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Rinku smiled at Kanisa, looking around. “Where’s Wolfe and the kids?”

"Vidar is training the rookies today and the kids are doing chores." Kanisa told Rinku, "And I'm here doing paperwork for the king and queen. You ought to return for dinner. I'm fixing roasted duck."

Rinku picked up the cradle and nodded. “Love to.” The blonde hero walked away, waving goodbye for the moment. “Let’s hope Wolfe can behave long enough to keep his hands off you.”

"Rinku, as much as I'd love to assure you that is a possible outcome, we both know it isn't." Kanisa laughed. "I'd have more kids if my pregnancy was not so rough with Audlin, but Vidar did not want to take the chance."

~

Ocax was deep into giving Seer head when a knock came at the door. “Hoosh izh ish?”

Seer was enjoying the oral administrations when a rude knock was heard. "Just ignore them and they'll go away." Seer said, irritated at the interruption.

“Open the damn door! Order from the top authority!” Ocax pulled out, panting loudly for a moment. “Who... company?”

"Damn it all to fucking hell." Seer growled under his breath, quickly feeling for his robe. "I'll handle this, love." The orca Direnor kissed Ocax's cheek. "Give me one moment and I'll be back." Tromping to the front door, Seer yanked the front door open with the nastiest glare he could muster. "Someone either be dead or dying, or you must be here to give me Adda's head on a plate, because you have interrupted a most critical mating season ritual and I. Am. Not. Happy."

“Hey blind man. Long time no see.” Rinku snickered. “You gonna pull up your pants?”

"...?" Seer sniffed the air a couple of times. Adjusting his robe, he had very little modesty during mating season, but did not want to continue to flash the poor woman. "... oh. What are you doing here, Rinku?"

“I have problem you and Ocax can solve for me.”

The Twili man ran forward, fixing his appearance. “I’m so, so, so sorry for his behaviour. What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to ask you a few questions about the Twili. And to deliver this child.”

"I'm not sorry." Seer huffed, still annoyed that his lovey time with Ocax was paused. "And if this is another one of Adda's brats, you're out of luck, I haven't seen her in years, therefore there is reasoning this kid can't be mine---ow!" Seer jolted when he felt Ocax's elbow hit his side, warning him to be nice.

Rinku revealed the kid, and Ocax gasped. “A Twili child?!”

"...?! A what?!" Seer's jaw almost dropped. "... I swear to Rotar and Handeh, if Towa is playing a prank on us, I will boot her ass into the lake."

Ocax was careful to examine the child. “It’s a boy. It’s a Twili boy.”

"Should I even ask where you found him?" Seer felt a confused, and most of all, slightly worried. Caring for two human girls was one thing, but another species might be out of his grasp. "And... who left him?"

“We don’t know who left him. But we just found him wandering around the castle.”

Ocax frowned, remembering his own detail. “It could have been either an accident or they could have been thrown away.”

"Is he healthy from what you can tell?" Seer carefully bent down on one knee, feeling of the baby carrier. Gently, he found the blanket and then the kid's cheek. He was sleeping, and had... the Direnor almost gushed. The kid had those adorable curved ears... just like his lover! "Is he hungry? Does he need changing?"

Rinku took a whiff and plugged her nose. “Yeah. You want me to clean him?”

Ocax was puzzled, trying to figure out this baby. “Perhaps we can send it down to the orphanage for now.”

"What? The orphanage? No, no, Seija already has too many kids there, she doesn't have time for this little guy." Seer simply picked up the carrier and took the kid inside of the house. Mating season also brought out the drive to protect and nurture the young. This little one was like his lover and would have proper care. "I'll change him. Ocax, please get Rinku a snack if she's hungry. There's some leftover cheese and grapes if she wants some."

“But Seer. Surely we need to think this over.”

"It's just until Rinku gets some answers, right?" Seer downplayed Ocax's worry. "I mean, surely his parents are looking for him. They're probably in Hyrule right now or maybe looking for him. If Twili are anything like Abyssians, they'll have that link to their offspring and be here soon, probably within a fortnight or so." He assured his lover. "Don't worry, it's just for a night. Rinku needs her questions answered and a place to stay, and the little one needs a bit of care. Nothing much."

“Well, can I stay anywhere where Direnor’s aren’t in heat?”

“I know this will have my attention for a while.”

"Considering that Direnors are in mating season right now, your best bet would be to stay at the local inn if you don't want to interrupt anymore sex." Seer then suggested. "Besides, this is just for a night until we reach a conclusion on what to do."

“Hmmm. You know, I always wanted to take a deeper look into the old abandoned castle now that it’s king is gone.” Rinku smiled, petting Seer’s head. “Good luck with the baby.”

Seer took the little one into Liz's and Lex's old room to change his diaper. The tiny boy was fussing something fierce, but Seer shushed him. He seemed healthy, had a head full of hair, and a set of lungs to rival a shrieking lady. After swaddling him, Seer simply placed the boy into a sling he made. Then, he returned to the living area where Ocax was waiting.

"It's just for a night. He'd probably feel better around someone like him." Seer then asked once more, "Didn't you tell me that Twili are more at ease around their own species?"

“Anyone is more at ease with their own species. But I don’t like babies. They poo, they crawl over the place and-“ Right on the dot, the little toddler started to cry some more. “And they do that.”

"Heh, if you don't like kids, then you would have had a time with Liz and Lex when they were small. They cried a lot." Seer bounced the little one to try to soothe him. "It was worth it though. I've missed having a little one in the house, but it will be good for Rinku to have a break before she comes back to get him. I'm sure his parents have to be looking for him. If my Liz and Lex suddenly disappeared, I'd search for them."

“Well, it’s a possibility they could have thrown the baby away.”

"...?! They would... do that?" Seer looked disturbed. "Why? From what I can tell, the kid is healthy."

“Because it can be a form of execution.” Ocax sat down, fiddling with a pin on his shirt collar. “If Twili don’t have gateway stones, they can never return to the twilight realm. So with that in mind, we have ripples our people can open up to fling undesirables through your come here in the world of light. We can also adjust where we throw a Twili to, be that an ocean to drown or a burning desert. Sometimes though accidents happen near these ripples and one can accidentally be sent through. I’m imaging someone didn’t want to be a parent and just sent their baby to a nice castle.”

"Poor thing." Seer frowned when Ocax explained how easily a baby could be tossed away like trash. It made him think of how slaves were treated, how he was treated in the brothel all those years ago. The thought made him shiver slightly. "Do you really think we should take him to Seija? Or should we try to find Towa?"

The mention of Towa made Ocax visibly sad. “No. Towa can’t help us.” Sighing, he grabbed his glasses and cleaned them with a soft rubbing cloth. “I don’t know how to take care of a baby, I’ll be honest Seer. I’m going to go to work, so we can figure out what to do. Tomorrow, we can head to Seija’s.”

"All right." Seer stood, carefully putting the baby back into the small carrier. "I'll make it up to you tonight." He nuzzled Ocax, sliding his hands down his lover's sides. "I'll do that thing you like with my tongue..."

The boy cried again, and Ocax used that as an excuse to leave. “I’m running behind on work anyways. Have fun Seer.” Walking about, the little Twili made his way to the kitchen, reaching for some pans.

Seer heard the tiny kid moving around and gently scooped him up from the floor. The Direnor had this pet peeve about others messing around in his kitchen. It was not safe for a little one to be near all of his utensils anyhow. "I can't just keep calling you kid..." Seer mused as the baby fussed, still wanting the pans. Seer decided to occupy him with a snack. Luckily, he always kept fresh fruit peeled and ready thanks to Ocax. He heard the child munching on the apple and then suggested, "You need a name. How about... Echo?"

The little toddler threw the apple to the floor, the bouncing echoing on the wooden planks.

"I guess not. I could call you grumpy if you tempt me enough." Seer wondered if the child still needed a bottle.

The toddler babbled as it looked around for something important to it.

"If you're looking for your parents, I'm afraid they're not here, little one." Seer had a habit of talking to kids normally, just as he did when Liz and Lex were little. "Evidently, you either fell through a portal or they didn't..." He paused not finishing that thought. "So, you're going to stay with me for tonight until we find a better candidate to take care of you."

Falling back, the baby caught itself, wanting to crawl away again.

"I suppose you need a bit of a distraction, don't you?" Seer considered it was pure luck that he still had a few of his daughters' old baby toys. Little Val still played with them from time to time, but she preferred to be outside. He fetched a few of the toys from the closet and set them out in front of the child to entertain him. Blocks were always a good choice, there were some stuffed animals, and even a few carved wooden figures.

The toddler grabbed the stuffed wolf closely, babbling something once more. It sounded worried, yet comforted by the wolf.

"I'm sorry that you're sad, little one. I promise I'll take care of you while you're here with me though." Seer assured the little kid the best he could. He tried to entertain the child by moving around another stuffed animal, imitating a form of play. "You're safe. I just wish I knew your name."

“Papa.” The little Twili looked at Seer in the eyes and said the same thing again. “Pa-pa.”

Seer just wanted to melt when he heard the adorable voice. It was not right to encourage the name. He was not the boy's father. Yet, Ocax did not like children but... Seer absolutely loved little ones. "Oh... you're such a cutie pie." Seer tickled the kid's belly. "Yes, you can call me Papa."

“Papa!” The little Twili said it more enthusiastically and laughed as Seer tickled him.

"I... got you!" Seer scooped up the little boy and blew raspberries on his tummy. He loved to play with little ones. It reminded him of how he used to play hide and seek with Liz and Lex around the house, pretending he could not hear them from the other room. "On nom nom."

~

Ocax returned from a long day of work. It was harder with Kanisa more or less held captive by her husbands love making, but he was able to meet all the requirements for the day. Finished, he was about to open the door when he heard laughter coming from inside. Was that Lex?

“Aren’t you adorable? I’m Lex. Alexandria the great! You’re a beautiful little guy aren’t you?”

"And watch this, Lex, watch this, he's so smart!" Seer tapped his shadow. The little one had nearly made him shit a brick when he disappeared for five minutes. He then realized the child was hiding in his shadow and drew the curtains. "Come on. You can do it."

Ocax walked in without the adults noticing. He was astonished when he saw the toddler hide into Seer’s shadow.

"Give him a minute... and now..." Seer gently tapped the floor in front of him, signaling for the child to come back.

The baby popped out and Lex screeched with joy. “Oooooooo that’s so neat! When did Ocax pop out the little guy?”

“I did no such thing.” Ocax announced his presence.

"Lex, you know Ocax is male, and as far as I know, male Twilis cannot give birth." Seer praised the little boy, offering a sweet strawberry for a reward. "Who's so smart? You are, yes, you are!"

“I’m thinking of delivering the kid to Seija tomorrow. Should be a good day for her.”

"I... yes, I guess it will be a good day." Seer halfheartedly agreed as he set the kid in his lap, giving him the tiny stuff wolf.

“Oh no. You bonded with him, didn’t you?”

“How could he not?” Lex went to grab a bottle of breast milk from the fridge. “He’s a little mini you!”

"And those... ears..." Seer was gushing. "Look at how cute! Reminds me of how Ocax's ears twitch when I kiss him." He then took the bottle from Lex. "Thank you for bringing this over. He seems to be very picky about some solid foods."

“I’m here to please.”

Ocax took a seat, rubbing his temple. “Seer. A baby is a lot of work. And you’re not as young as you used to be.”

"I'm wounded, Ocax, you think I'm old?" Seer had a cheeky grin on his face. "Says the man who has trouble keeping up with me?"

“Can you even look after this child’s needs? It seems you like to act like one yourself from time to time.”

Now that hurt and it was uncalled for. The blind man had raised two lovely daughters and was always helping out from time to time with his grandchildren. Seer had a look of annoyance on his face. Even if Ocax did not want the child around, there was no need to insult him.

"Lex, would you mind helping me prep the carrier tonight?" He decided to ignore his lover's foul mood for the moment and focus on the little one. "I don't have a crib and he'll need somewhere to sleep until tomorrow."

“Course dad.”

Ocax saw the baby crawl towards him. Raising an eyebrow, he picked the toddler up to have an eye staring contest with the boy. It babbled a bit before burping. “You have thick blankets for him? I don’t think he’ll like the cold of Uskar.”

"I have Liz's and Lex's old baby blankets that are made of wool. They should serve perfectly." Seer stated as Ocax picked up the child. He was not sure what was going through his lover's mind, but there was no reason to be discourteous. As Lex helped him make up the carrier, Seer was sure to place the little wolf with the child.

Ocax brushed his hair back, opening the current up so the moonlight shone on the toddler. It seemed to sooth him enough to calm down and sleep. “Perfect amount of shadow and light. We’ll have to wake up early to close the blinds before the sun hits him.”

"I'll be up anyhow to fix breakfast." Seer heard the little one yawn. "What do you think we should call him? We can't keep calling him kid."

“Fyrir the unknown. How about that?”

"What do you think?" Seer asked the wee one who was dozing off. "You like it, Fyrir?"

Little Fyrir said nothing as he dozed off.

“That’s what I’m calling him.”

"I think Lex and I do agree on one thing," Seer stated. "If he was tossed out, then whoever it was made a grave mistake."

“Just tell me straight if you want to keep him.”

"... you don't like kids." Seer stated, letting the insinuation hang in the air.

“But I love you. And I want to see you happy. I work hard to see you happy... would having the kid around make you happy?” The little charm in his voice, Ocax let his own insinuation counter Seer’s.

"I love you as well, and I am happy. I just..." Seer sighed, bending down as stroking the little Twili's hair. "I feel so sorry for him. You and Towa were cut off from your home. He was... either tossed aside or fell through a portal. I can only imagine how lonely he'd be without someone to care for him."

Ocax placed his hand on Seer’s back, pretending to be nonchalant. “We’ll, I suppose we have no choice but to look after him then and give him the care he needs right now.”

"... are you sure? I don't want you to be miserable. I love kids, and I wish I had more, but... you are my lover. My husband." Seer kissed Ocax's forehead. "Are you happy too?"

“You want me to change my mind? Could always throw the brat out in the cold.”

"No!" Seer huffed at his lover's teasing. "He's staying."

Ocax folded his arms. “Then good. That’s that.”

~

"Come on, little one, that's it! You're doing so good!" Seer praised Fyrir as he heard the tiny footsteps stumble in his direction. He was down on his knees, coaxing the boy to come to him. "You're walking so well now! Soon, I'll teach you how to swim."

“Swim. Swim.”

Ocax shook his head, looking outside at the snow fall. Had it really been a month since they adopted Fyrir? “Seer. The waters will be freezing cold. He’s only just starting to get adjusted to direct sunlight.”

"Well... maybe a little later for the lake, but for now, you can practice in the tub." Seer picked up Fyrir and held him above his head, earning giggles from the boy. "He's a smart one like you, love. Imagine, he might be helping you with your work one day. What do you say, Fyrir? You want to help Daddy with papers?"

“Pa-“ the little Twili paused for ten seconds, then. “-per!”

Ocax’s heart melted at the enthusiasm.

"Yes! Yes, that's right! Paper! Pa-per." Seer repeated for the boy, kissing his cheek. "So smart! You're learning so fast. What is Papa going to do when he can't keep up with you anymore? I suppose you'll have to wait on him, right?" He then set the Twili back down on his feet, turning him in Ocax's direction. "Walk to Daddy. Come on, you can do it."

“Seer. I don’t think-“

Ocax stopped as he looked down to see Fyrir pull on his leg. “Da. Da.”

"See? He knows who you are already." Seer chuckled as Fyrir insisted on Ocax picking him up, hearing his little arms wave. "Are you hungry? I could fix you something to eat while I heat up Fyrir's milk."

“Feel bad taking from Alexandria so much. We really should start moving him to store bought.”

"I do too, but when we tried that last mixture, he barfed for a whole hour straight." Seer made a small crinkle of disgust with his nose. "Maybe I should try some pureed foods..."

“Or water perhaps.” Ocax patted Fyrir on the head as he finished off some documents for a Kanisa. “That should do it.”

"Do you think it's too early to teach him how to read?" Seer asked as he started taking some plates from the cabinets to prepare lunch for his lover and child. Fyrir had learned fairly quickly that the kitchen was a no-no. After dropping a pan on his own foot, the little one was more cautious. "He seems to like looking at picture books."

“I think we’ll have to wait for a while on words Seer. But picture books are fine.”

Ocax got up, picking up his son with him. “I have to go to work now, but daddy is here to look after you.”

"We'll have fun, won't we, Fyrir?" Seer took the boy from his husband. "And we will have fun later tonight." The Direnor purred at Ocax. "The silk ties I ordered came in from Hyrule and we should put them to good use."

Ocax lightly smiled. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

"You're irresistible, if anything, it's your own fault." Seer gave Ocax a kiss. "Take a jacket. It's supposed to snow later today. I can feel it."

“I’ll dress appropriately for any coming storm.”

~

Hyrule castle was preparing for another beautiful morning when a storm rang in. In the armoury it was quiet as a mouse. Suddenly, breaking that silence came a ripple in space. With a screech, two shadowy figures dropped down.

Unfortunately, the rookie was completing his rounds when the two monsters suddenly appeared. Startled, he started shouting, "INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS!"

The Twili mother whirled her hair. Her dreadlocks flung out, grabbing the soldier by the hands and throat.

The guard struggled wildly, trying to cut at her hair with his dagger, but she had his hands tied.

“Rwak Trei Kal Wry?!!”

"I..." The guard coughed, hardly able to speak. "Don't... understand!"

The Twili’s cold mask didn’t give away a change of pace. “Where is my child?!!”

"... child?!" The guard was beginning to see spots. "It... Uskar!!!" He was starting to panic. "It's in... Uskar!!!"

The Twili turned to her companion. “Uskar?”

The Abyssian was blending in with the shadows. The minimal sunlight peeking through the windows would scorch him if he was not careful. "A country of shapeshifters... to the North."

The Twili frightening mask turned back to the soldier she held captive. “World map. Or I pop you.”

"In... library!" The guard managed to rasp, starting to lose consciousness.

"I can smell him here. The scent is faint." The husband murmured to his wife. "We must find the one who took him."

“Go to library. Say nothing.” The Twili forcibly hid in the guards shadow. “Unless you wish to die.”

"I will ensure he says nothing." The Abyssian father then slipped into the guard's body, entering his mind. "I can see the world map from in here, my mate. It seems to get to Uskar, we will have to board a ship. It is sea locked."

“Too long. Too LONG!” This mother felt that even a day was too long in catching up to her son. “Give me coordinates.”

"There are three different ports. Our best guess for answers would be in the largest." The Abyssian started reading off the coordinates to his mate. "I do not know of these 'Direnors' that live there. They could be hostile."

“We are hostile. We are enough.” The Twili took the guard to an open tower area. Leaving him, she raised a sphere to the sky and started an enchantment.

Down below, Rinku happened to be wondering by, when her eyes caught the shadowy figures. “By Nayru.”

Before she could reach them, the Twili opened a portal in the sky. With that, herself and her husband broke apart into shadow particles and flew high into the portal above.

Reaching the guard, Link shook him awake. “Young man. Status report!”

"Urgh..." The guard held his throbbing head, feeling like he had drank one too many beers. "Princess Rinku?" He blinked a few times before stammering. "They... I swear, it was Midna here! I swear it! I'm not drunk, my head is just killing me! I must have been hallucinating!"

“More like Shadow Beast. I felt an Abyssian was here too. Do you know where they are going?”

"They said something about that strange kid you found a while back." The guard stood on his feet. "Wanting to find it."

Rinku’s adrenaline kicked in more than it already did. Kanisa. “Get up. Go tell Zarazu an Abyssian and Twili have broken through into Hyrule. I’m heading to Uskar immediately.”

"Y-Yes, m'am!" The guard hurried to find the reagent queen and hoped to the goddesses above another war was not coming.

~

“Kanisa. Do you have any idea how nice it is to not have your husband ravage you when he has a baby to look after?” Ocax was in an odd mode, actually enjoying the cold winter air for once.

Kanisa blushed slightly, trying to keep a composed face. The topic of intercourse still made her feel embarrassed, even after all these years. At least here in Uskar, it was normal to talk about sex like any other topic. "Well, I don't mind Vidar's... affections." She cleared her throat. "Why? Seer draining you of energy? All you have to do is just say no, you know."

“He has. But having a baby keeps him focused. Which lets me be focused on my work.”

"Ah, so you're saying that he needed a distraction. From you." Kanisa actually giggled. "Dare I say that you are finding it hard to concentrate?"

“You don’t? We have our duties you know. Our husbands can’t just use us and steal us away whenever they get a rut.”

"Oh, I think King Torbjorn would beg to differ whenever Queen Brigritta is in a rut." Kanisa sipped her tea. "Last time it was three days behind on paperwork I think."

“It’s insane how we have to try and keep up with their freakish nature at times.” From behind them, twelve feet to their left, a group of deer scampered away. “Huh. Wonder who lost their catch.”

"From the way I see it, the desire can be flattering, but also... occupying." Kanisa had to agree with Ocax. "It is hard to get a few things done when Vidar is demanding my attention. Yet, at least Seer seems very happy with you and little one. He always wanted more kids." As the deer ran away, Kanisa shrugged. "I suppose someone was being too loud."

“I feel like being a father is something Seer is simply naturally good at.” Ocax smiled, giving a sigh. “I wonder if he ever had any help in raising Lex and Liz. I’m glad I can give him help now.”

Above them, the clouds started to shift around, expanding to blot out the suns light.

"Seer had his family and friends helping from time to time, but mainly, it was just him." Kanisa told Ocax. "He was crushed when he found out that Lex and Liz were not biologically his. Yet, he still loved them the same. There was a lot of strife for a long while between them, I think, because of that reason. Seer hid it from them because he didn't want to hurt them, and it just blew up in his face. Though now, I think everything is good."

“How’d you feel finding two little Gerudo when you came here? Must have been nice, no?”

"Oh, I met them before they came here. Orana is my sister, and Corsaire's husband." Kanisa told Ocax with a smile. "They were adorable as babies. Lex refused to be put down and Liz wanted to explore everything. Seer had his hands full, that's for sure."

“Not to mention that Revy girl. Has she always been rambunctious?” Ocax laughed at the thought.

"I have no clue where she gets that energy from." Kanisa shook her head. "It was nearly impossible for Rat to keep her in one spot for long. She cannot sit still."

“Well, she is an electric-“ Ocax stopped, the colour in his face draining away. His feet felt cemented into the ground as he saw the war mask of a Twili. Behind that Twili was a massive shadow.

“Found you.”

“Oh. Oh no.”

As soon as the mask appeared, Kanisa released a shrill scream, stomping on it. She then yanked Ocax to his feet, and started to run.

Bursting from the snow, the Twili made her physical form known. With a spear in hand she stabbed at Ocax’s leg, catching him through the thigh. With a grunt he fell to the ground. “Kanisa! Run!”

As soon as Ocax fell, the male Abyssian pinned him and roared, "Where is he?!" "Ocax!!!" Kanisa skidded in the snow, nearly losing her balance when the Twili was suddenly pierced. She was in disbelief. It was... a Twili! And an Abyssian to boot! How in the seven hells did they get here?! There was nothing she could do right now. The princess had a dagger, but she doubted it would be useful against a creature of shadow. There was no textbook on how to fight a Twili... except for sunlight. Any kind of light. With gritted teeth, she shot a burst of concentrated lightning at the Twili... only to have it blocked by the Abyssian with a blast of darkness.

“Who?!” Ocax was terrified. He’d never met an Abyssian before, and being pinned and injured he was as helpless as a child.

The Twili presented her spear at Ocax’s throat. “MY SON!!!”

Seer has sensed the commotion before any of the others. His lack of sight aided him in perceiving what was happening, even if he was not close to the event. Ocax was in trouble. Releasing a series of whistles and clicks, Seer allowed his family to know there were intruders before handing Fyrir to Bjarke. He was visiting his friend so Naira could give Fyrir a checkup when he heard his lover's distress.

"...?! You're looking for Fyrir?!" Kanisa held her dagger tightly, trying to think of what to do. Abyssians, she could not let him get near her shadow. He'd possess her. For now, she had to buy time. "How did you get through the portal?!"

“Gate stone.” Ocax muttered out.

The Twili mother looked to Kanisa, pressing a hand on the ground. Lifting her hand up she drew a spear of darkness. With it, she chucked it towards the Princess. “Give us our son!!!”

Kanisa managed to avoid the spear, thanking the goddesses that she kept up with her exercises. "I don't have your son!"

"Lies!" The Abyssian snarled. "We can smell him on this filth," He shoved Ocax's face into the snow. "And you."

"He's not here!"

"Where is he?!"

She had to think. Seer would come. He would know. He had that creepy sense of knowing when something was wrong. Yet, he could not fight them well on land. The lake... it was still covered with snow. If she led them in that direction... "Please, don't hurt Ocax further." Kanisa assured the Twili and Abyssian. "I'll take you there if you follow me."

The Twili screamed in agony as a light arrow struck her directly in the back. Another was fired at the Abyssian within a second so that Ocax could have chance to crawl away. Their attacker was Rinku, who was wearing her green garb and drawing a Hylian shield and the Master Sword. The Blade hummed lightly in the presence of the Abyssian. “Get away from them you monsters.”

Kanisa quickly yanked Ocax away from the intruders as the Abyssian snatched his lover and descended into the shadows of the ground. "Rinku!" Kanisa exclaimed. "They're here for the kid!"

Rinku saw a shadow creep towards her, and stabbed the Master Sword into it. Never again would she be possessed. As the Twili and Abyssian fled from the ground, the mother snarled. “She’s mine. Go after the man before he can flee with our son!” Ocax was already hopping along with Kanisa to the lake.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were heavier than my brother." Kanisa struggled to help Ocax along the lake. She had to be careful with her footsteps. The ice could give at anytime. "How does Seer lift you?" Suddenly, the male Abyssian appeared in front of them with a growl. "I'll give you one last chance before I rip you to shreds." He warned the pair, tentacles of darkness appearing at his sides. "Where is my son?!"

Seer, however, was already in the water, swimming in the direction of the princess and his lover. He could feel their footsteps on the ice above him. Then... there was the intruder. His scent was faint, but it was there. It was as if he could move through air. That wouldn't save him. With a mighty swing of his tail, Seer busted through the air, jaws wide. He managed to take the Abyssian by surprise and dragged him under by his leg.

Ocax fell back, shock on multiple levels taking him.

Rinku and the Twili hunter danced in combat for a moment, with hair tendrils and spear lunges trying to take the hero down. Wise beyond her years, and not wanting to prolong this conflict when she could go assist her sister, Rinku ended the conflict. With a shield bash to the Twili’s face to stun her, Rinku leapt into the air with spin of her body, lashing in a saw motion at the Twili’s head. Her blade cut the helmet clean in half, and the Twili fell to the ground with a light gash in her face. Spinning around, Rinku pointed her sword at the woman’s throat. This wasn’t Midna. This was a threat to her family. “Who are you? No lies.”

Rinku saw panic and fear that was hard to fake. “I’m here for my son. Nothing more. He became lost to this world. We’re here to take him back. I just want my Seikro back.”

The Abyssian male struggled under the water within Seer's grasp. His leg was crushed by the whale's jaws. Finally, he managed to get free when he whacked Seer across the face with one of his tentacles, the spikes digging into the orca's flesh. Seer shook his head to be rid of the pain and the Abyssian hurriedly swam to the surface, crawling through the hole in the ice. Kanisa had managed to drag Ocax to land, away from the breakage.

Rinku’s eyes gleamed at the Twili, her fingers tapping the hilt of the Master Sword. Reading the woman’s face and recalling features of the child she delivered she called out for her sister to come to her. “Kanisa!”

"...?!" Kanisa's attention jerked to Rinku. "What?! I'm kind of occupied here!" She gestured to the wounded Ocax, trying to bind his leg with her scarf, and tied it tight. Just as she finished, the Abyssian male caught her eye. Yelping, the princess held out her dagger. "Go away!" Seer, however, was not far behind. The ice was thicker near the land. With a loud squeal, he surfaced, trying to wiggle his way to the Abyssian to end him. "By Mracni, call your whale off! We're here for our son! You kidnapped him! We want him back!"

“Where’s the toddler Kanisa?” Rinku kept her blade at the Twili’s neck. Her mind was on the Abyssisn not to far away though.

"I... I think Seer took him to Bjarke's house to see Naira." Kanisa gulped, watching the Abyssian closely. "For a checkup. He wanted to make sure he was adjusting okay to the cold weather here."

Seer, however, had shifted back on the ice. "What's going on?" He demanded. "Why are you attacking my husband?!" He sniffed, smelling Ocax's blood. "I'll have both of your heads for this!"

"Seer, please! Calm down!" Kanisa implored the Direnor. "They're here for Fyrir!"

"...?!?! What?!"

“Give us back our son!” The Twili mother said once more, however, this time with fear in her voice. Rinku shook her head in disappointment. She should have known this was a possibility. For Ocax, he had his own feelings. None too happy.

"What do you mean 'your son'?!" Seer snapped angrily. "You threw him away! He's ours now, we're taking care of him!"

"Seer, I have a feeling that Fyrir might have accidently found a portal... either that, or someone tossed him to get back at the parents." Kanisa was trying to remain level-headed throughout this incident. "Otherwise, why would they risk being stranded here to find him?"

"We've been searching for him for nearly a whole day!" The Abyssian exclaimed. "And we found his scent through the portal!"

"A whole day? He's been with us for over a month!"

“You lie!” The mother shouted furiously at Seer. Ocax, wincing the stand up, walked over to the Twili mother. It saddened him, but he spoke to her in his native tongue. “Hunter. Do you know of the Zalant clan?”

She was surprised for a moment, but nodded. “I do.”

“Do you remember Ocax and Towa?”

“... Yes. I-“ the moment she realized who she was talking to, she gasped. “You’ve almost been gone for over two years!”

“Lady. It’s been over 30 years.” Ocax sighed, his scientific discovery disturbing him. “Time must be different for our realms.”

Ocax had taught Seer a little of his native tongue. He was able to understand a few pieces here and there, mainly the mention of Towa and his lover. And something about time. "I'm not lying!" Seer growled, "We've been taking care of him ever since Rinku brought him here! He's safe, happy, and talking non-stop!"

The Abyssian felt a bit nauseated by the fact of how time flowed differently. Any longer, anymore struggles to find a rip to get here, and their son would have been grown.

“Where he is? Where is my son?” Ocax watched the desperation leave the Twili mom, being replaced by a tired tone. Maybe it was hopelessness. Maybe it was the blood loss. Either way, he sighed. “Kanisa, can you go find Fyrir?”

"I can---"

"No!" Seer interrupted Kanisa almost immediately. "Ocax, they want to take him away! What are you saying?!"

"Seer, it's their kid."

"I know that!"

"You can't keep---"

"But he's ours now." Seer now looked desperate, almost panicked at the thought of having to give up the little one. "I don't want to lose him!"

"Seer, be rational!" Kanisa wanted to kick some sense into the Direnor. "These are Fyrir's parents who came looking for him. Don't be the bad guy. You even said yourself that they might come looking for him."

"I was hoping they wouldn't."

Ocax walked up to Seer, placing his hands to grip his shoulders. “Seer. Do you want to be like Adda?” A low blow, but the truth. “I won’t be complicit in kidnapping. Let’s... let’s just see Fyrir’s reaction.”

"... no." Seer finally spoke after taking a breath. He had grown attached to Fyrir. His fists clenched; he did not want to let him go. Once Fyrir was brought to group by Kanisa, the little one was fussing at being woken from his nap.

Fyrir was yawning, but the instant he saw his mother, a light filled his eyes. “Mama! Mama!” The Twili held her hands out for her son as he excitedly turned into shadows through Kanisa’s grip and into her mothers. “Oh Seikro! Oh my baby boy!” She squeezed and held him tightly, never wanting to let go again.

Seer felt so heavy. He heard the excitement in Fyrir's voice. So, it was time then. His parents came for him. It was if a wave of sadness had washed over the Direnor. "Seikro!" The Abyssian limped to his son with a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank goodness you're all right. We looked everywhere for you!"

“Papa!”

And that made him feel worse. He was Papa, not that... that... other one.

"We... apologize for any misunderstandings." Kanisa spoke to the Abyssian and Twili, still a little guarded. "Seer and Ocax were caring for Fyrir... I mean, Seikro, in your absence."

His name wasn't Seikro, it was Fyrir. Seer was angry, upset, and above all, just wondering why he was granted another little touch of love for it to be gone once more.

Ocax saw the Twili mother take out a gate stone. A small part of his core twinged in agony. Before meeting Seer, this was all he wanted. The mother was activated the stone with magic and it flew into the air, changing shape. They were going to leave so quickly. “Tell me. How is Towa? Is she happy?”

“Towa?”

“Yes. She left sometime ago to find a way home. I assume she made it.”

“Towa does not live among us.” The stone cracked open a portal directly to the Twilight Realm. “Thank you. For taking care of our son.”

"Please, wait!" Seer called out before the parents took off. "Please, just... let me say goodbye?"

Little ‘Fyrir’ looked towards Seer, giggling with a laugh and waving a tiny hand. Then just like that, particle after particle they disappeared into the portal.

Fyrir was gone. Seer would probably never hear him again. Direnors, Hylians, no one except kin of Interlopers were welcome in the Twilight Realm. The blind man just looked defeated.

Rinku finally put away her weapons, sighing as she walked towards the couple and her sister. “Look. Part of me feels responsible for this outcome. I probably could have let you avoid the hassle had I saw this as a possibility first hand.”

Seer said nothing, still reeling over the fact that Fyrir was taken away so easily. It brought back unpleasant memories of when Adda tried to kidnap the twins. That feeling of... of failure, of loss, of desperation to do anything to protect those little ones filled his being. Why did they have to come looking for him? Couldn't he had loved Fyrir just the same? Was he horrible for wanting to keep the little one?

"You could not have anticipated them attacking us, Rinku." Kanisa told her sister. "We all thought he was simply tossed aside."

“Well... none of you got killed. I’ll call that a better defeat then my last one at the interlopers.” Pulling out an Ocarina, she sighed. “Should be getting back home. Teleportation is not easy to do in a pinch. Think I might give myself a heart attack with all the adrenaline.”

Ocax looked to his husband, holding him close. “We can get through this.”

"I... want to go home." Seer stated quietly. "I need to rest after a sudden shift like that."

“Ok...”

~

The rest of the day and night Ocax stayed up in inner turmoil. To be honest, losing a son like that affected him too. He was just opening up to the idea of being a father. And Towa... was she dead? He never gave it much thought. Why had she never come back all these years to visit if she had failed in her quest? These depressing thoughts were too much. It was best he sorted them out. The next day, he forced Seer to go on a walk with him. “Quit your belly aching. You’ve brooded enough in the last 24 hours.”

"I have the right to brood, Fyrir was yanked from us without warning." Seer snapped at his lover, not in the mood for a lecture, still sour. "We did not get to say goodbye, that damn Twili woman attacked you, and the Abyssian tried to hurt Kanisa."

“I know. I know. But, if you trust me, I think we’ll have a situation.” Opening a door, Ocax lead Seer inside. “Seija! We’re here.”

"Oh! Good timing, Ocax! We're just about to---" Seija was interrupted by a loud noise upstairs.

CRASH!

She winced, groaning slightly. "... bake cookies... and we could use the help of an experienced cook."

“Yes. We’d like to help, but I brought Seer and myself to discuss the matter of adoption.”

"...?!" Seer was surprised by Ocax's statement. Adoption? He thought Ocax had no desire to raise any children. His lover did not seem too keen on Fyrir being with them at first. What changed his mind? "Oh, really?! That's wonderful!" Seija puffed up, her feathers standing highly on top of her head from happiness. "I'm sure you will love any of the kids. They're all wonderful really, just a little... rambunctious."

“I’m certain we can handle any challenge. May we meet the children?”

"Of course! Just... don't mention 'adoption' in front of them." Seija told the Twili and fellow Direnor. "I hate to put it this way, but I don't like them feeling like potential parents are 'window-shopping' if you know what I mean. If you find a child you just click with, great, but I hate getting the others' hopes up." "... are you sure?" Seer asked Ocax, now feeling slightly nervous.

“I am.” Ocax took his glasses to rub them clean. “I don’t like the idea of you being unhappy. I also don’t like having my work be taken away just as I was getting started. The idea of being a parent was exciting. I want to continue that. With you.”

"I wasn't that bad..." Seer was mildly flustered at Ocax's indication of the Direnor being rather demanding during mating season. "I do miss having little ones around the house. As much as I love our grandkids, it would be nice to have one that is... well... ours."

“I know.” Ocax nuzzled Seer close. “Will you be a father with me?”

"You know I will." Seer kissed the Twili affectionately, running his hands through the man's hair. "But that's not always going to save you from mating season."

“Well, you need to learn how to deal with blue balls in a while.” Ocax waved his horny mind away. “We have to be serious. For the children.”

"Serious as balls?" Seer teased with a grin, knowing just how to vex his lover. "Very well. Though, when the kid is asleep, all bets are off."

“Very well. Let’s get to be good parents.”

[thequirkdetective]

Investigation 1 (1/05/2020): Creation – Momo Yaoyorozu

The first quirk I am investigating is Creation, an Emitter type that allows the user - Momo Yaoyorozu - to turn ingested lipids into objects[1] and release them from her skin. The first thing to note is that any material can be made with this quirk, as long as its atomic composition is known. Since lipids are carbohydrates (molecules that do not contain every known element) this means the quirk can alter the structure of the atoms of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen, rearranging the protons, neutrons, and electrons to create new elements.

In the first part of the UA Sports Festival Yaoyorozu creates a fully functioning cannon and cannonballs[2]; one of the largest displays of her quirk in the anime. A cannon typically weighs around 3,500kg (7,700lbs), and a cannonball has a mass of roughly 17.5kg (39lbs). In the episode Yaoyorozu fires 4 cannonballs, as well as describing the creation of the weapon as “a piece of cake”. The total weight of the cannon and 4 cannonballs is 3570kg (7870lbs), meaning Yaoyorozu had to have created them from the same mass of lipid in her body under the law of the conservation of mass. Yaoyorozu looks very slim on account of the fact she should weigh 57x the healthy weight for her height, and she should have lost over 8 metric (8.8 tons) tons during the creation of the cannon, so we can safely assume the mass of the objects does not come directly from the lipids she consumes, as described. If it did, and somehow originated from a single meal, she could eat a meal, and use it to create a 3570kg (7870lbs) version of the same meal. She can then eat 1 serving of that, burn the rest as fuel and repeat, violating the laws of thermodynamics and creating infinite free energy for everyone, solving world hunger, and allowing everyone to live in a post scarcity utopia. (This has not occurred in the anime as of the end of season 4)

Since we have established the source of the objects cannot be directly from lipids, we must question what the source actually is, and whether there can be any credibility to this ‘lipid’ explanation. If the objects were created from other matter that has been reformed by Yaoyorozu’s quirk, then there has to be a cannon-sized hole in something nearby, which there isn’t. The mass could come from the air, but the volume needed to supply the same mass as a cannon is ~3 million litres, or 1/10 of the air within the UA Sports Stadium. This volume is not only infeasible to consume, alter, and emit in such a short space of time, it would also create a large wind, with Yaoyorozu acting as a vacuum. This alone would most likely be enough to topple the robots without the use of the cannon.

Another option is the use of energy. Since mass is just a from of energy, Yaoyorozu could be harnessing some source of energy and using it to generate mass. Although this is theorised to be impossible under the standard model of particle physics as it changes the number of quarks in a closed system, the possibility remains in other theoretical models of physics. This process has the added benefit of explaining the ability to create any element, since the entire process hinges around the creation of individual quarks. To calculate the energy required for the cannon creation, we turn to the most famous equation in Physics; . This tells us that the energy stored in matter is equal to the matter’s mass (in kg) multiplied by the speed of light (in m/s) squared. Plugging in the numbers shows that the energy required to form a cannon and four cannonballs is…

320855598809043897480 joules.

The destructive capability of harnessing this much energy can be demonstrated via the detonation of 41256 Tsar bombs – the most destructive weapon humanity has ever created. This is enough Tsar Bombs to fill almost 5000 large warehouses.

If this energy were to be gained via the standard way humans gain energy – eating and respiring using the ingested glucose – Yaoyorozu would have to eat a meal before the obstacle course with a calorie count of 76686328587247580kcal. To put this in perspective, this equates to 36 trillion skyscrapers worth of bacon, or enough bags of crisps to give everyone in the world 2500 tons of Walkers cheese and onion (or Lays if you’re American). Of course, this method of energy generation is bound to be less efficient than directly altering lipids, since the human body is not 100% efficient at generating energy from mass. The same line of reasoning can describe why Yaoyorozu doesn’t gain the energy from radioactive sources, since these are not 100% efficient either. The only process that does turn mass into energy with 100% efficiency is the annihilation of antimatter and matter. Sadly, reversing this process a) required double the amount of energy, as you need to make two copies of the object, one made of antimatter, and b) will cause the matter and antimatter copies to annihilate immediately, releasing the same amount of energy you just put into creating them – 82,512 Tsar Bombs. Needless to say, this would vaporize a large chunk of the continent and plunge the world into a nuclear winter which would cause the extinction of all life on earth.

It seems there isn’t a way of creating the cannon that’s fully adherent to canon, and I believe there isn’t a way of creating one compliant our current understanding of the laws of physics. In order for Yaoyorozu to create such a large object, she would have to have at least the same amount of mass to transmute, and since nothing / no-one in the scene ends up with a cannon-sized chunk of them missing, it appears the creation of the objects within Yaoyorozu’s body is something we have to relinquish to the realms of fantasy.

The releasing of the objects, however, is not.

Human skin is comprised of many layers. We do not know for certain which layer the object is created in, but whichever it is, the layers above will be stripped away as the object grows in size and is ejected from the body, so it makes sense for it to be as close to the surface as possible. Here, we may still find a kernel of truth in the ‘lipids’ claim. The hypodermis contains a layer of fat lying beneath the epidermis and dermis and just above the muscle called the subcutaneous fat layer. It could be that ‘made out of lipids’ is a simplification of the fact that the objects originate from the layer of skin where some of the lipids in the body are stored. The downside of this is that any object originating in the hypodermis must then punch through the epidermis and dermis to be used, leaving a large, deep graze more akin to a terrible burn, or being flayed alive. Additionally, sizeable portions of skin would be ejected from the body. This would of course be both unsightly and inconvenient. Seeing as large amounts or gore do not erupt from Yaoyorozu when she uses her quirk[2] , we are again calling the feasibility of canon into question.

If the object is created in the live cells above the subcutaneous fat, then the quirk does not properly create objects from lipids. However, I think this is a detail we can let slide if it means leaving most of Yaoyorozu’s skin attached to her body.

Most.

The topmost layer of skin is called the epidermis, which itself is comprised of multiple layers. The very bottom layer, known as the stratum basale or stratum germinativum, is comprised of dividing keratinocytes. The keratinocytes are then pushed to the surface, undergoing cornification. By the time the cells have reached the surface, they are bound husks full of keratin, their surface covered in a cornified cell envelope. The layers above the stratum basale are thus in various stages of cornification and cannot carry out any function. Therefore, the shallowest layer of living cells that can hypothetically produce objects via quirk are the cells of the stratum basale itself. The cells may not have enough blood flow to gather the required nutrients, but as discussed previously, the objects cannot be created from raw matter. The object creation occurring in the basal layer does mean any cells above this layer are forcibly removed whenever an object is created. However, this isn’t as bad as if the quirk manifested in the hypodermis, and simply leaves a light graze.

So, after all this research we can finally understand Yaoyorozu’s quirk. It activates at will, with Yaoyorozu thinking of an object she wishes to create, and then the basal cells in Yaoyorozu’s skin collect the chemicals required from an unknown source and begin construction. The resultant object pushes its way through the epidermis, finally emerging with a graze in its wake, and dead skin covering its surface. Prolonged use of the quirk could lead to scarring due to the continued trauma of the basal cells, however this is not permanent, as it is conveniently removed upon use of the quirk.

[1] Season 1 episode 11: ‘Game Over’

[2] Season 2 episode 16: ‘In Their Own Quirky Ways’

[ithinkthingsaboutstuff]

The Grace of motherhood (TUA)

I wanted to do a character deep dive of my new favourite robot Mother

Grace Hargreeves, i just love that a small character like this got so much detail and crafting put into them when it was not necessarily needed.

were to start, lets start with how she looks,

the style of her look and how the change in her wardrobe showed her development. I will be looking at this in the timeline of the show not necessarily ep by ep.

The style and what it says about her.

very 1950′s no surprise but lets look at it deeper, when grace is created (by Hargreeves) she is shown wearing (i can’t find a pic of it anywhere) in the opening of  1x09 ‘Changes’

in something not dissimilar to this

the look is a long skit (dark brown) and a shirt with long sleeves (white with dark striped) and hair up in a very tight bun, like so

now theses are NOT graces clothes this is the uniform that the other nanny's where wearing as well. so this means grace did not chose to look like this, also in this scene we see her look over to Hargreeves and Pogo for approval she smile’s at a job well done and they nod to her. (i will come back to this)

so when Grace is first introduced (shows timeline not ep order) 

she is Hargreeves perfect uniform robot nanny that dose what she’s told with a smile.

the next time we see her in ‘I heard a rumour ’ (again show’s timeline) she’s wearing this

this Scene is also when Vanya is getting Rumoured, so Grace gives Vanya her Favourite food (grilled cheese) and her “medicine”.

in this short moment and change of wardrobe we can concluded that

1-  she now cares about what the kids want to a point , because there is no way Hargreeves told her to bring Vanya’s Favourite food, (even if he did tell her to bring food) 

2- she was more control over her self with being able to pick her own clothes, they have colour (not a lot or bright but more than before) and her hair is a little lower but still heavy made up. 

3- the kids (Vanya specially) trust her enough to take something from her and believe her without questions or a fight (Vanya takes her medicine quietly, because Vanya can still toss Grace out the room at this point)  

so grace is gaining a little more self identity but still very much live under Hargreeves thumb, because she dose not question or bring up what she was told to do and is still doing what she dose for Hargreeves and what he wants (get rid of Vanya’s powers)

Now here’s where it gets interesting her next bunch of appearances go roughly in this order, (I am guessing the order but from what I've talked about the first two do seem to line up this way, but the last two are certain and canon)

This dress is a step away from what we’ve see up until this point, it’s still a darker colour (silver,even if glittery) like a metallic and the ribbons and other fetchers are very streamline, makes it look almost robotic (see what i did there)  she is also wearing shorter selves and a wider skirt the look she favours  

so this looks like her first step towards what she wants to look like, also note that 

1-she also talking to Vanya directly this time, Hargreeves is not even in the room, so she doesn't have to say anything to Vanya if she didn’t want to

2-Vanya went to Grace’s ‘room’ or area to show her the violin

3- Grace encourages her ‘that wonderful Vanya’ or something to that effect 

4- and the line that kills me every time i hear it “i’m going to be extraordinary” is Vanya speaking to Grace 

(BTW this is a part of a wonderful gif set by  tuagifs link on gif)

Classic grace or most common outfit she has,

the look itself is light and colourful but still has black spots (apt metaphor if ever i’d seen one) now I’m sure this one comes second here because this is when grace starts to have more, awareness of Hargreeves BS towards the children and her feeling about it 

1- “the kids wanted to say good night” she is now going out of her way to do what the kids want even if it means interrupting Hargreeves

2- she dose not know how to handle his response or lack there of, 

3- leaves with the kids as apposed to staying with Hargreeves and she dose not turn back to him when she leaves

this is were the shift starts in Grace’s personality, she is no longer looking for Hargreeves approval and has shifted her focus to the kids  

The day five goes missing, this how see looks when he runs out the door (damn,buffering much)

she say nothing in this scene, but if we are looking just at the outfit here, it’s the most bright and colourful in the show and she wears it later. so i will talk more about them, note that the hair is still in the middle length and made up to perfection and she is behind Hargreaves (a few feet at that).    

Grace doing her rounds, here is when she is fully there mother, putting out fires everywhere for her kids (literal in Klaus case). her clothes are more simple but not as conforming as they once were, so they are for mobility and movement and not a uniform (ironic since the kids are putting on there’s)

now she is with her kids 100% here and the scene ends with her being proud of Diego and Hargreeves walking in unapproving, we did not see the conversation  that follows but we do see adult Diego’s reaction to it,

mournful maybe, but he did say she was treated worst then anyone, so this may have been an off screen example of that. who knows?

ok time skip to the present

I will skip the Luther surgery, for the sake of time, and lack of pic, but i will note that this is when grace official didn’t have any of her children with her anymore.

at the funeral  

not much to say about this one, sorry.

but i will say that, when she is looking at the painting this dress is similar colour to the one in the painting, since Grace is projecting herself onto this painting in that ‘she’s lonely’ also now that Hargreeves is gone and he took her mind with him, she is at her darkest.

also note that 

1-Hargreeves messed with her mind he didn’t just get Pogo to turn her on then off again 

2-Hargreeves set her up to take the blame for his death, thus being the murder mystery to get them all working together Pogo was talking about.

3- that was when Hargreeves saw Grace as reaching her usefulness, the kids where grown, he was going to kill himself and Pogo never needed her. so the only thing left for her was to reunite the kids to save the world, by making her his murderer 

We go back to classic look Grace until after her death 

after she’s is back, in 1x06 ‘the day that wasn’t’

she is moving around and back in classic Grace clothes but this time she has her hair down and she is moving freely, Diego talks to her about what she remembers and  Pogo appears out of a bookcase to instruct her not to say anything, now what dose Grace do she  takes Diego out of the grounds to tell Diego the truth,

this was it 

true independence her first real act of which we saw anyway. Hargreeves is dead and Mama’s going to do what ever the fuck she want’s

now this didn’t happen in the main plot line but this independence remained not in obvious way but still there.

this is show though her hair being down and her clothes being lighter and her make up being lighter neural colouring as well 

compare the pair

before 

after 

1- same outfit, years apart

2-  what she doing is the same serving food who she is with is different

3-  why she’s there is different to she is doing what Hargreeves told her to do vs getting Diego food because she wants to cheer him up

4- she is close to Diego puts her hand on his shoulder vs being a few steps away from Hargreeves 

this right here in two frames you can see a whole characters transformation form one mans automaton to a loving mother,done without even a complete change of wardrobe 

damn.

and that’s one aspect of Grace 

we also know she 

1- named the kid’s

2-she took care of all there injuries(so she was most likely the one who wired Klaus mouth shut)

3- did not even try to stop Diego from turning her off in fact she was encouraging him with is specking, mush mind or not that was her priority 

4- put smiley faces on her food, Hargreeves would not have told her to do this

Now this all leads me to my final point about Grace and honestly what i find the most interesting about her. Her whole housewife identity, more specificity when it comes to motherhood. what do i mean, 

we have all hear this narrative before of a women trapped in a marriage with a man she doesn't love, stuck in a house to do nothing but cook, clean and care for the kids.

this story is one that has been explored in shows like Mad Men (i have not seen a lot of mad men just a disclaimer)

Betty Draper for example

these character’s usually look at how the superficial can shape and destroy a life. and how in order to find anything real you have to broaden your horizon’s by going out into the world and opening your mind and therefor being more than a mother and a housewife, and you’ll be free of your superficial life. (and yes i know it dose not go this way for Betty but this was the overall idea of the arc)

this is a strong narrative don't get me wrong and it should be shown

but what i find interesting but Grace is that, yes she is basically trapped in just about every single way but her freedom dose not come from the outside world rather it comes form her.

she becomes a mother.

that’s where her freedom comes form.

every step she makes towards person-hood is form her decision to be a mother. she care’s for these children because that’s what she was made to do and she owns that, to the point that as i have already said she turns against her creators wishes in ‘the day that wasn’t’.

she gets her strength for being a mother it’s her identity and she love’s it because she is no longer a thing, a robot or vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet 

she’s someone’s mother.

but when her kid’s are gone she dose get lonely she said so herself in so many words (about painting)

but she’s there for them and they love her and that’s the one thing that Hargreeves never expected, when he set up his little plan to get them back together and take Grace down as his murderer. he never thought for a moment that the Kid’s would try and protect Grace (see my post about Diego’s Day) and that lead to his plan failing (also he’s an ass-hole)

so by embracing motherhood Grace able to turn her prison into her freedom and her programming into her life and she did it all without taking a step outside.

so when Grace answer Diego’s question of why she did what she did all theses years with

“because being your mother is the greatest gift of my life”

she meant it, boy oh boy did she mean it

[ckret2]

Anonymous said: If you’re not burnt out by IZ right now, how about a prompt about Zim in food service? could be during his banishment, could be on earth, could utilize that new FOODCOURTIA/SOLAR SYSTEM MALL info, or could just be anything else you come up with where he’s being his usual self, but also working with food. Hope this sounds fun!

As it happens, today I was writing a scene about Zim in food service for ISS, and it's low enough on spoilers that I can post it in full like a oneshot.

A few notes: 1. If you're not reading ISS, all you need to know to understand this scene is that Zim is working at Bloaty's because he keeps being absent from school. "That doesn't make any sense?" Yes. 2. If you're not reading ISS, feel free to assume that Zim is lying about every single thing he says, because within the context of a oneshot he might as well be. 3. All violently injured characters will recover from all their injuries with no complications, never fear.

This scene is hot off the presses, which here is a euphemism for "totally unproofed and probably riddled with autocorrect errors."

###

"What do you mean I can't pay by card?!"

"I mean you can't pay by card, sir," Zim said flatly.

The human pounded his fist on the counter. "Why won't you let me pay by card, huh?! WHY?!"

Zim gestured dramatically at the melted cash register and card reader between them.

"I've been a loyal customer for forty years!" He pounded on the counter another couple of times. "FORTY YEARS!"

Zim glanced at the wall calendar and then the wall plaque listing the date the business had been established. He was not surprised to learn that the building was, in fact, still twenty-two years old.

"Is this how you treat your loyal customers?! Huh? Huh? Huh? HUH?!"

Zim snapped on his best customer service smile. "My deepest and sincerest apologies, Valued Customer. I am but a poor foolish child laborer and did not realize you'd been a patron for longer than I've been alive. I would never have been so discourteous had I realized."

The human scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Typical. Kids these days."

Zim gestured again at the melted equipment. "To make up for my grievous error, I humbly invite you to scan your own card on our fine Bloaty's Pizza Hog® currency-consumption equipment."

"Finally!" The human pulled out his card and leaned in. "Now, let's see here..."

While the customer was distracted, Zim ducked back into the kitchen. "Hey. Pizzasmith."

Weird Name looked up from his work—converting the now-broken electric pizza oven into a wood-fired oven with a pile of newspaper and lighter fluid—and pushed his headphones off one ear.

"That large pepperoni and bacon I just gave you the order for?"

Weird Name nodded and held up the paper with the order.

"Burn the pizza."

Weird Name gave Zim a thumbs up and put his headphones back on. Zim wondered what machine the headphones were plugged into that hadn't melted when every other machine in a ten block radius had. Maybe Weird Name just liked wearing dead headphones.

Zim returned to his post just in time for the customer to snap, "HEY! What's the big idea?"

Zim blinked innocently. "What do you mean, Valued Customer? I am but a minimum wage laborer and therefore incapable of big ideas."

The customer waved his card threateningly. "You made me pay by card, but your card machine's broken!"

"Oh dear. It seems I've made another inexcusable error. Surely I will be rightfully fired for this," said Zim, the most powerful employee in the building. "I am terribly sorry, Valued Customer. I should never have asked you to pay by card instead of cash."

"Hmph!" The customer thrust over a wad of dollar bills. Zim pried open the warped drawer on the melted cash register with a crowbar, deposited the cash, and offered the customer his change.

As the customer moved off to a table to wait for his pizza, the bell over the door rang. Zim looked over wearily, hoping it wasn't a family with kids, and held back a sigh when he saw something worse. Oh, Dib. At least his oversized cranium held enough brain cells to understand what "the card reader isn't working" meant, but Zim probably wouldn't be able to get rid of him for hours. Dib probably planned to camp out at the booth nearest the front counter, do his homework, and yell taunts at Zim. At least his sister was with him, she should keep him from starting a full-blown battle while Zim was on shift.

"Hey," he said flatly. "Card reader's down, cash only. If anyone else comes in and you're holding up the line to throw stupid dissection threats at me, I will destroy you."

Gaz leaned over the counter, seized Zim by the collar, and yanked him to her. He helped as he suddenly found himself suspended in mid air between Gaz's fist in his shirt and the edge of the counter digging into his hips. Zim quickly said, "It's just for tonight! I'm sure corporate will send a new card reader soon!" He was lying. He'd probably have to break into some corporate warehouse and steal a new card reader himself.

Gaz pointed at the melted cash register. "Is this your fault?"

"Eh?" Zim tried to turn around to look. "Oh, the melted machines! Oh yeah, heh. Yep. Another evil plot."

"So." Dib snacked a baseball bar in his hand. "You sent Dad to the hospital."

Zim stared blankly between Dib and Gaz. "Did I?"

Gaz jerked him the rest of the way off the counter. "His robot arms exploded because of you!"

With a shriek, Zim crashed to his knees at her feet, only held upright by her grip on his clothes. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident! The prototype was supposed to do something completely different, I wasn't trying to make every electronic in this part of town blow up!"

"But you did, Zim. You did." Gaz held out her hand. Dib smacked the handle of the bat into her palm.

"Wait! No! You can't hurt me!" He mentally groped around for a reason why. "I'm... I am... prrregnant? Yes! Ha!" He pointed at his abdomen. "Zim is incubating innocent life! That means you can't touch me!"

Gaz's wrathful glower deepened. "Is your face full of eggs?"

What did face eggs have to do with anything? "Ehhh... I don't think so, why?"

Gaz raised the bat.

She and Dib left twenty minutes later, eating a cheese pizza out of the box.

The other customer plodded up to where Zim was collapsed on the floor. "Hey." He knelt and gently shook Zim's shoulder. "Are you still alive, kid?"

Zim let out an affirmative moan.

"Good," the customer said. "My pizza's burned! I've never been so insulted! I've been a loyal customer for fifty years! I want a refund! I want to complain to your manager! I want a year of free pizzas!"

Zim burbled.