#at least i can have kip again. and hope they still build this up in a way he can still rip into oc

[the-kipsabian]

cant have shit in this house smh im going to sleep

[kirindensetsu]

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before  Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair.  I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

[janekfan]

Dismiss

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016568

This was all Jon’s fault.

He should have known; he’d just brought about an apocalypse for christ’s sake! Of course it was too soon! Of course Martin would be upset at finding him rifling in the dark like an addict. What if there was something worse hiding away in another one and there he was, walking in on Jon pawing through the box for a goddamn snack?

But after the panic and questions and shouting at a sky that only looked on silent and steady, the shakiness was back. The ache. The draw that came from knowing they were here and whispering to him, beckoning to him, promising to ease the hurt building up in his bones as the Eye continued to take and take and take when the well had long since run dry.

And now Martin was alone. Holed up in the bedroom, their(?) bedroom, and it was Jon’s fault. He was alone again and it was because he was too selfish to think beyond feeding the monster he’d become. All because he couldn’t wait, couldn’t give him even a moment to try and forget about Jon’s dietary needs and the pain they caused. There was no way it was easy on Martin, knowing that Jon required.

This.

Worse still was the disappointment, the devastation rolling over him like the rain laden clouds of a storm as he backed away, anguished betrayal pooling in his eyes, even as Jon reached for him, excuses pouring over his lips like ink from a pen.

The mug in his hand seemed like such a paltry offering. Martin deserved infinitely more than this and Jon would never be up for the task if he kept relying on his more monstrous half. Like his resolve, his hold on the ceramic tightened. If Martin wanted him to hold off, or, or prove that he was better than his thirst for fear, then he would give that to him.

Anything for him.

“M’Martin?” He called through the door rather than knock, holding his breath while the decision to let him in or not was made. He couldn’t help but count the seconds, forty seven, a small eternity. Jon fought the impulse to apologize again, Martin said he did that far too much, likely thought he didn’t truly mean it because he never seemed to fix his mistakes. Patience. Wait.

It was not his forte.

“Come in.” Good lord, Martin sounded so tired and when Jon stepped into the room he could see him curled up on the bed facing away from him, the slope of his shoulders defeated. The desire to express remorse all but choked him and he swallowed it down with difficulty. It wouldn’t be for Martin anyway, not really, just another selfish attempt to assuage his own guilt.

“I’m. I brought tea?” Another step closer, watching Martin sit up slowly, elbow rising up as he swiped at his eyes. “O’of course it, it could never hope to m’measure up to yours. I’m afraid I’I’ve never been a deft hand.” He was babbling, rounding the frame so fast that liquid splashed over his fingers. “Mm. B’but here? It’s warm?”

“Thank you, Jon.” It shouldn’t have mattered but the lack of an endearment he’d become so used to was like a blow. Still, he accepted the tea, taking a measured sip before setting it aside and glancing up with red rimmed eyes.

“I. I wasn’t thinking.” To prevent himself reaching for more, Jon plucked at the bottom hem of his, of Martin’s jumper, picking and pulling at the stray threads.

“I was. Surprised, I guess? That you could even look at--” He shook his head, “it’s not important.” And while Jon didn’t agree considering how insensitive he’d been, he welcomed Martin’s arms around him.

“Can’t it wait, Jon?”

Caught.

As he tried to steal away up the stairs with his prize, all too aware of the inherent chicanery.

All too aware of the exasperation in Martin’s voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Exasperation with him.

“I can’t exactly...avoid you in here.” He gestured absently to the small space of the cabin made smaller by fear of leaving and they both knew well there was no way Martin wouldn’t be able to hear him. It physically hurt to replace the yellowed paper back into its watermarked manila folder.

“S’sorry Martin. Of course it can wait.” But it was worse for having held it in his hands, for having been so close and the Eye was railing at him now, shouting in his mind for his denial and dizzying him with its volume. Instead Jon settled for stumbling over to the couch to burrow into Martin’s warmth, sighing when he draped a heavy arm across his aching shoulders and dropped a kiss into his messy hair. Beneath his ear Martin’s pulse beat loud, nearly drowning out the yammering want and sluggish and thick, Jon responded in a sleepy hum to Martin’s questions, sinking into a doze when he began to pet through his tangled curls.

Without a dose of second hand fear it only became worse, to the point where his scars screamed out whenever he moved, breathed, and Jon found himself losing large tracts of time even when he wasn’t sleeping. The inside of his skull was stuffed full of candy floss and digging through any of it for a spare thought was far beyond his ken.

Martin didn’t leave anymore.

For very good reason, but Jon couldn’t find a moment alone to, to, to.

Eat.

Even old and stale they would provide a reprieve.

“Martin.” His own voice sounded as though he were hearing it through the walls of a submarine, muffled and strained, and he wasn’t totally certain of his volume. “I. I need to read. To read a statement.”

Please.

The disbelief knitting Martin’s brow almost made him want to cry. It. He’d waited so long. Tried to sneak, be out of the way, to ask.

“The world just ended!” Martin avoided saying just who ended it but it was there in the set of his mouth and Jon winced irrationally at the volume; he wasn’t being yelled at, just about. “And you want to read a bloody statement now?” Incredulous, and at his tone, Jon folded himself into a small origami shape on his spot on the sofa, sharp at all his corners and hopefully harder to hit.

“No! I mean, I--”

“I don’t understand.” His voice was soft now, imploring. "Did you forget what caused this in the first place?" Oh, but he knew the answer to this question. It was good to know.

“M’me?” When Martin sighed, the disappointment captured in it stung.

“Yeah, I mean, no. It’s not your fault you were tricked into reading--look, I just think it’d be better if we waited. At least until we have a plan?” That made sense and he said so, words tripping up in a jumble on his tongue. “Jon, are you alright?”

No. He was hurting and upset and couldn't decide which was the greater ache.

“Yes. Just tired.”

“I’m ready for a kip after the staring contest I had with the sky earlier.” That would be nice. Martin was warm and soft and it didn’t all hurt so much when he was asleep.

His scars pulsed with a feverish ache, twisting, burning, smoldering embers in a body crying out for relief, thoughts disconnected, disoriented, disjointed, knotted up past, present.

He hated this. Hated himself, hated how nothing made sense anymore, all a vast landscape of, boiling, melted wax running together in a kaleidoscope of color.

Martin must hate what he is, hate that he ruined the world and want him to know it. Maybe once he’d learned to be more careful, more thoughtful Martin would let him have one. That's all, he just had to be patient. He still held him, kissed him, loved him, this was just a, a lesson. That's all. When he told him the right answers, when he figured them out, he’d be allowed to read and fill the emptiness eating him away from inside out.

He’d rather Martin than a statement any day.

Just a bit longer.

“Jon.” Martin left him in bed this equivalent to morning in hopes it would stave off whatever he’d come down with but enough was enough. “You can’t spend all day sleeping, love. We need to figure this out.” You can’t ignore what you’ve done and leave me to clean up your mess. Uncharitable, the thought came out of nowhere and Martin was thankful he’d kept his frustration to himself. He knew it wasn’t his fault. Breaking it down to blame wouldn’t help anybody, least of all the entire world. Magnus was old and he’d taken the time to plan this, manipulating them all into place, and asking Jon to carry the whole weight of that wasn’t fair. Fading in and out, thick and syrupy, Jon’s unsteady voice rose from the mountain of quilts.

“Nnn...n’feeling...very well.” He looked dreadful, flushed and fevered, and not for the first time Martin wondered if this was a leftover side effect of the ritual. “S’so cold…” Taking pity, Martin curled around his too thin and shivering frame where Jon panted harshly into his neck, the brush of overheated air humid at his throat.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“Hur’s.” Worry flooded Martin’s chest, constricting and tight. There were no doctors here, no ambulance he could call on.

“Where?”

“Ss…” With difficulty he flexed his burned hand.

“Scars?”

“Ah.”

“Alright, I’m here.” Gently Martin ran a light hand along the seam of his spine in the hope it brought Jon some measure of comfort if nothing else.

Idiot.

It took him too long to put the pieces together. How big did a neon sign have to be before he could read it?

Selfish. Foolish. Stupid. And the one paying dearly for it was Jon.

“You need to come awake for me, love.” He’d already heaved him up once only for him to swoon and this time he bullied him to his feet where he stood swaying dangerously but Martin needed him to be awake, to get his blood moving and stay that way.

“Mma’tin…” agonized, breathless, what had he said earlier? About hurting, his scars? God, Martin, you just watched him fall apart in front of you and did nothing. Worse than nothing. “Sstop…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” For so much, for not listening, for thinking ever that Jon would keep seeking out statements for anything other than necessity. “You’re doing so well, so, so well.” To think he nigh accused him of wanting to Know and nothing else; childish and angry. “But you need to wake up, you need to be able to listen.”

“Am...am.” Marble mouthed, dark lashes like strokes of ink fluttered, obscured the unnatural green glow always seeking. “Lis…” he broke off into a low, shaky moan, curling into himself, trying to sink to the floor, and Martin wanted to cry, worried that if he left him alone for even a moment he wouldn’t be able to wake him again. So he swept him into his arms instead, heart shattering when Jon bit off a sharp sob as his palm ghosted over the gap in his ribs, sore and sensitive and even so, he turned his face into Martin’s chest, twisted trembling fingers into wash-worn wool with a keening whine. He'd hurt him, accused him, berated him.

And Jon still turned to him as though he were the sun.

“Shh, soon now.” Shallow and short, Jon’s chest hitched as he pressed his fever hot forehead hard into his shoulder and swallowed with a wet click.

“Mmah…” around another convulsive swallow and it was barely warning enough to get him over the sink where he coughed up the tea Martin forced into him earlier. Strung tight and painfully wound, Jon exhaled in relief when Martin let him slide boneless down the cabinetry to the floor, cheek pillowed on the cool painted wood. Lifting his chin, Martin brushed back sweat soaked curls, pressed a promise into fiery skin.

“I’m going to fix this.” As quick as he could Martin ran to the closet and grabbed the whole box, returning to find Jon sprawled out on his back, limbs twisted and loose where he fell. “Oh, Jon.” There was no time to make him comfortable, not when for all Martin knew he was dying because he’d refused to see what was right in front of him, what Jon had been trying to tell him. Because it meant that Jon truly wasn’t human and clearly part of Martin wanted to ignore that.

And now.

“Jon, darling, please.” In his lap, listless deadweight, face turned unconsciously toward the statements. “Open your eyes, Jon, which ones haven’t you read?” Martin clawed through the folders, skimming titles, trying to remember if he’d heard any snippets, but no. He didn’t like listening to them, didn’t want to hear the horrors of others. If he’d stayed with him would he have been able to stop Magnus’ plan? “Jon!” Listing numbers, names, until the floor around them was tiled in paper. Hitching him higher, Martin kissed his pulsepoint when his head lolled, slow and sluggish. “Jon.” Which one?

“Mmm...”

“This one?” He read the first sentence, shuddering already at the chill running up his spine. “Jon?” Another paragraph and uncoordinated, his arm struck out, reaching blindly. “Okay, alright. Are you listening?” The tiniest nod, Martin wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but began to read, steady as he could, sick with himself when the tremors eased and tight, spasming muscles unspooled under his worried hand. When the tears came he had to force himself to keep on, beside himself that he couldn’t comfort him. With the great gasping breaths of a man half drowned, Jon swung his arms around Martin’s neck when the strength came back to his arms as it all drew to a close.

“Th’thank you.” Damp spread over his skin, his words tinged with desperate relief. “M’sorry, m’s’sorry.”

“For what?” He clutched him back, the sound of paper crumpling in his fist sharp in his ears and punctuated by Jon’s frantic apologies, his uneasy gratefulness.

“Th’thank you, Martin, thank y’you. Won’ a’a’ask again.”

“Jon.”

“Can wait.” The quake in his voice was shivery and small and devastation pooled in Martin’ stomach.

It sounded too much as though--

“Oh darling, oh no, no. I.” He had to pause, to swallow the tangle of emotion clotting up his throat and gathered him closer. “I didn’t understand. That’s all. I would. Jon.” Gently he shifted him to get a look at his tear streaked and exhausted face, swiping at his own eyes before cupping his cheek and drawing his thumb over the too-prominent bone there. “Never, I would never h’hurt, or punish--I didn’t know. I didn’t listen.” The first statement’s reprieve was wearing thin and Martin settled Jon against his chest where he laid still, head resting on his shoulder as he reached for another envelope.

The light never changed, no matter the time, but it was softer now. Here.

Pastel behind his eyelids as if swimming through a twilight consciousness into the soft sensations of waking. The knit strands of Martin’s cardigan threaded between his tangled fingers and he shifted closer, so warm, the fever chills he’d suffered for days a thing of the not too distant past. Jon wanted to collect this feeling, this safety, bottle it up for when Martin finally figured out that the only thing he knew how to do was take. Holding his breath, he tried to stay in this moment and absorb the feeling of Martin’s body pressed against his own, slotted perfectly together like a pair of puzzle pieces, the heat generated beneath the quilt comforting, intoxicating.

Even though Jon could tell you more than most that stealing scraps of affection never amounted to enough.

Soft kisses rained over his skin, over every scar, because he’d been unable to cry quietly enough to leave Martin undisturbed. He pulled away, scrubbed his face with the heel of his scarred hands.

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t be.” And he wanted to believe him, that he could have this even with what he was. That he wouldn’t ruin Martin like he’d already ruined so much. “Come here, love.” Patient. Martin was so patient with him even when the uncertainty had to show in his face. “It’s alright.” And Jon dove back in, hands not so much brushing against each other as colliding when he reached for more, more, more, taking, taking, taking. Hiccuping with sobs, burrowing close, closer, the closest he could be, where Martin’s kiss was a soft promise pressed between them, told to his mouth rather than his ear but a message of love and protection and tenderness all the same. Tears he forgot he’d been crying were thumbed gently away, so carefully it was as though Martin worried he would break under the weight of his touch.

Sated, the Beholding a murmur lost in the rhythm of Martin’s heart, Jon allowed himself to be lost, to let someone else, someone he loved and who loved him in return, carry it all just for a little while.

“How’re you feeling?” He approached with a cup of tea, inadequate though it was for an apology, passing it off to Jon’s eager, steady hands. His color was better, the flush faded, and he’d stopped moving like there were needles wedged in every joint.

“Much better, thank you, Martin.” Whyever would he thank him? But here he was, eyes closed in appreciation of the first sip, patting the cushion next to him in open invitation.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” After a beat of silence Jon set aside the mug and folded his hands in his lap.

“I thought you knew.” His fingers flexed and Jon forced himself to look Martin in the eye. “I thought it was what you, what you wanted.” And the confusion in his expression, that he had possibly miscalculated, was painful. But isn’t that what he’d learned time and time again? Tim, Basira, Melanie, Daisy, even Martin himself! That when he made mistakes, made wrong choices, when he’d done something they didn’t approve of he’d been yelled at, ridiculed, threatened, terrified, hurt, abandoned. He laughed, a bitter, deprecating huff. "I did end the world after all. You've a right to be upset."

“Wha--no! Jon, no! If I’d--” speechless, that Jon just accepted so easily being hurt this way, accepted that Martin, even accidentally, wanted to see him punished for his part in bringing about Magnus’ plan.

“When I, I asked. I. It made you so angry.”

"Jon. No matter how angry I am, I never want to hurt you or punish you. That’s not okay."

"But--"

“I should have never made you feel--” He grit his teeth, calmed his voice. There was no part of him that wanted Jon to interpret his anger at himself as anger pointed towards him. “Please, if I do this again. Please, love.” For a moment Jon looked like he wanted to argue and Martin tugged him into an embrace, overjoyed when it was returned, his response muffled in his jumper.

“Alright.”

[themagicalmysticalboy]

Iveneverrequestedanaskbeforesryifimlikeawkward

Anyways can you write a mclennon and theres a thunderstorm or something and the power goes out and one if them gets all scared and clingy to the other and they’re scared and it ends with cuddles? I love your writing btw <33

a/n: ah! thank you so much! hope you like this one too! ended up being a lot longer than i thought it would lol

Going to Kansas City...

Going to Get My Baby Back Home

The last note of Long Tall Sally tore from Paul’s throat and blasted into the exuberant crowd as the concert came to an end. He was smiling like mad as he looked between his bandmates and the people in the stadium. It was strange to not see every seat full but he didn’t care at all. There was too much adrenaline coursing through him to give it a second thought. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he sent a few thank you’s into the mic.

John held his shoulder and waved with him before going towards the speakers so they could prop their instruments up with the other equipment. “Fucking fantastic,” he yelled close to Paul’s ear.

“Aye, Eppy looks satisfied,” Paul yelled back and nodded to just off the stage where their manager stood.

With another smile and a pat on the shoulder, they both broke into a trot to the locker rooms, George and Ringo on their heels. Paul was still waving the whole way until they descended into the tunnel. Cool air hit his face like a blessing from above. They slowed to a slow stride to catch their breath.

Everyone was soaked in sweat and panting. They had every right to be dead tired but the electricity of the performance wasn’t about to wear off. Paul surmised they had a good 30 minutes before they were absolutely dead on their feet.

“Was weird hearing our own music. ‘Bout forgot what we sounded like,” George said as he wiped at his forehead with his sleeve.

“Small crowd and we still got paid out the arse for it. Screw a day off.”

Paul thought a day off still would have been nice. With it raining like it was when they landed, though, there wouldn’t have been much to do. Might as well make some more money. Maybe that’s why the crowd was so small - all that rain and wind kept people from arriving. It didn’t really matter -money wise- if 30,000 or 10 people came, though. The deal was at a set rate and they got paid the same either way.

“Glad to hear it was worth it, John.”

Paul turned on his heels, walking backward, to find Brian trailing behind. “Aren’t you glad we kept saying no? Got us far.”

“We should start refusing things more often,” Ringo chimed in, tapping the air with his drumsticks.

“All fab and gear and whatever,” George came up and grabbed Paul, jumping to put all his weight on Paul’s shoulders before turning him around and pushing him forward.  “but let's get the hell out of these clothes and get some kip.”

There was a general agreement between laughs and jests. They set off to the dressing room while Brian went to ready their ride to the hotel. When they finally found the room in the maze of a stadium, the airconditioning was even better than in the hallways. A fan in the corner hit them as they walked in and sent Paul’s hair on end. He collapsed into a chair at the first opportunity and yanked off his boots, not bothering to unzip them. Taking the boots to the clothes rack, he undressed and hung his outfit up accordingly. When he was happily redressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he looked on at the mess John and George were creating. 

George’s clothes were on the floor, surrounding a chair that managed to not so much as catch a sock. Whereas John’s clothes trailed from the door to the vanity. He was mostly undressed, wearing only unbuttoned pants and a tie, as he searched for his clothes. Paul eyed him indulgently as he moved about the room, feeling something between annoyed and pleased. At least Ringo had made a good faith attempt, clothes messily placed on their hangers with boots sat beside Paul’s.

Paul marched over and untied the tie around his neck. “How did you even manage that?”

“I like to keep a mystery.” John’s eyes were soft and dream-like.

“Save it for later, you two,” George exclaimed and made a fake vomiting sound.

 Rolling his eyes, Paul leaned into John and picked up his discarded suit jacket, revealing John’s pile of plain clothes. “Looking for these?”

John laughed mockingly and snatched up his jumper. He had just pulled the thing on when the lights flickered out. The breath of the building cut out before wheezing back to life and illuminating the room again. John let out a low woah as they all eyed the ceiling.

“Mal blow a fuse unplugging the speaker,” Ringo joked, his gaze still fixed on the lights.

They stood there for a moment longer before going back to getting dressed and lounging. John got himself together and dressed rather quickly. Paul watched him closely but didn’t question him. When George and Ringo took a seat on either side of Paul, John was pacing the floor and tapping his thighs.

“I’m going to look for Brian. He’s taking too long.”

Paul stood. “John,” But he was gone before any protest could be made. “Great. I’ll go and get him.”

George propped his feet up on the table, taking one of Ringo’s drumsticks to spin between his fingers. “He’ll be alright. Maybe he’ll even get Eppy to tell us what’s going on.”

Paul weighed his options and dropped into the seat at the vanity. “Would be nice to know what’s keeping him.” Tapping at the maroon-painted wood, he noticed John’s glasses wrapped up in his tie. Paul held them up, pulling the tie off. “He’s got his contacts in, hasn’t he?”

“Took ‘em out, actually.”

“The git. He’ll never find his way back here if he doesn’t run into Brian.”

“Probably couldn’t find his way back with the specs. They’ll find each other though.”

Ignoring the advice, Paul was half out of his seat when a nerve-rattling bang sent him falling back. His breath hitched in his throat, his muscles tense and pulling against his skin. Ringo and George were just as stunned, leaning forward on the couch. Slowly, as if they might evoke more banging if they made a sound, the three walked to the door. Howling screams echoed outside, becoming more clear as Ringo placed his hand on the knob. When he opened it, a gust of warm and humid wind rushed into the room. The low howling wind whistled up in pitch.

There was a small set of stairs to their left that led to double doors. They were flung apart like unfolded lungs, rushing all its oxygen into the building. Outside, the parking lot was shrouded in a haze of heavy rain that made the street lights radiate a halo’s glow. They, consequently, did nothing in the way of providing actual visibility.

“That’s probably not very good.”

The lights flickered off and on again, making Paul grip the back of Ringo’s shirt. “No. Probably not.” His mind was a racehorse running through a blank expanse.

George pulled him back into the room. “Come on before we get sucked out the door.”

Steadying himself and pulling back the reins on his mind, he pointed to the other two. “I’m going to get John. Stay here in case Brian comes ‘round.”

“Can’t recall a single time when splitting up has been a good idea,” George said with a raised brow.

“Well, John’s already gone and done it. I’ll make it an even split at the least.”

No further argument was made and Paul went into the hall to find a few staff members going towards the open door. They took no notice as he went the opposite way. The once comforting cool of the hallway moved from humid stuffiness to icey cold in a matter of a few steps. He turned at the first opportunity and heard both doors close with a clank. At least that was handled. 

Once he knew he was on the path to where they had originally come into the stadium, he called out, “John! You around?” There was no reply. Down the next corridor, there was another employee sliding a bolt into place at the exit doors. They rushed off, leaving Paul alone. He called out for John again.

“How the hell did I get back here?” John was standing behind Paul, one hand on his head, the other on his lower back. “I went in a circle…”

“These might have helped.” Paul brought over the glasses and slid them on John before grabbing his shoulders. “Better?”

John stuck his tongue out and shook off Paul’s hands.

“Aye, welcome. Now come on. Eppy’s probably this way.” The doors at the far end of the hallway banged against their bolts, rattling from the forceful wind that pushed through the cracks. “Let's pick up the pace, yeah?”

John only nodded, speed walking ahead while Paul struggled to keep up. He was a good 6 feet in the lead when the lights cut.

“Fucking hell.” Paul was getting tired of this finicky electricity.

“Paul?”

“Yeah. Haven’t disappeared.” He might as well have. The dark that blanketed the building was dense and consuming. He had no way to see anything at all.

“Where are you?”

“I’ve got my arms out. Just walk back towards me.” Having the clack of their boot heels would have been nice at the moment. Their sneakers were far too quiet to make out the location by. Regardless, John’s strong grip wrapped Paul’s bicep. “There we- oh-”

John’s arms wrapped underneath Paul’s, pulling them together by the shoulder blades. His head was buried into the crook of Paul’s neck. More banging echoed somewhere in the distance and John held tighter.

“Hey,” he gently rubbed circles over John’s back. “We’re alright, y’know.”

“I don’t like this.” John shook his head against Paul, trembling in his arms. His heartbeat was wild in his chest, thumping against his ribs so forcefully that Paul could feel it too. He had seen John like this before but only a handful of times. It sent Paul’s alarm bells off. “Paul, I can’t- I-”

“Okay… Okay. Let's sit, then.” They parted briefly and Paul led him to a wall so they could slide to the floor. “Come here.” John pressed against him, head on his shoulder and hand in hand.

Without the hum of electricity, the wind completely filled the deafening silence, only interrupted by the bang of doors and distant footsteps from the level above. Though that did let them know other people were somewhere, it gave an already ominous atmosphere that last nudged into horror. Paul might have been scared himself but he couldn’t think of anything other than John’s panicked breathing and shaking hand.

“I’ve got you, okay? We’re not going anywhere, neither of  us.” John didn’t respond. “You need to breathe, love. Take a deep breath for me, please.” They breathed together - slow inhale and even slower exhale - over and over. “That’s good.”

He was shaking less when he fell into Paul. “Shouldn’t there be backup lights?”

Paul chuckled softly. “You’d really think.”

“You think it’s a tornado? Mal said this was part of Tornado Valley… Or was it Alley?”

“Tornado Alley? Only in America, I swear.” His fingers were still tangled in John’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. “They got a state-designated for hurricanes too?”

“Actually, I think they do. Maybe Florida.”

Paul let out a wholehearted laugh. John slowly worked his way into one too. “Can’t wait to be back in England. I’ll take rain and no sun every day over whatever this all is.”

“Yeah…” Another clatter of metal echoed from the dark and John tensed.

Paul gave a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “And we will get back. In one piece too. Storms can’t stick around forever.”

They settled into a mutual silence as the aches of sleep crept into their bones. John ran a hand up and down Paul’s thigh and Paul held his head against his shoulder. They both jolted every now and again but were fairly still for the most part. Any footfall that was above them stopped some time ago. At least that had calmed John’s nerves a bit further. Though Paul found it more frightening now that they were gone - not that he’d dare to voice that. 

He was too tired to be scared anyway. The nonstop concerts and traveling exacerbated the stress of all of this and left him numb. It was safe to be numb now. John felt slack against his shoulder, finally at peace. A weird tranquility slipped through his skin and sunk into his bones. The darkness deepened as his eyes fluttered shut.

“What are you doing on the floor?” A drawled voice drifted into his dream. “Paul.”

He grumbled and opened his eyes, only to be attacked by searing light. He sucked in a pained breath and shielded his eyes to look for the source of the voice. Squinting, he could make out George coming down the hall. He blinked away the sting and stretched a bit. John’s head was on his lap, still fast asleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled on instinct, rubbing any leftover sleep from his eyes. “John, love. Wake up.”

“Come on before someone sees you both all snuggled up like.”

John copied Paul’s wake routine down to the “Morning.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Morning, morning.”

After some much-needed stretching, George hauled John to his feet though it was more for show than actual help. Paul followed, leaning on the wall as pins pricked at his sleeping legs. “How long have we been gone.”

George was taking the lead. He turned his head back to say, “Well, it’s past midnight. They just got the power on not even 15 minutes ago. I’d say you’ve been missing for three hours.”

Both men only grunted a response, swaying sleepily as they walked.

“Wish it was longer,” John groaned.

“Aye. I’m still wiped.”

“The storms passed enough to get to the hotel. Both of you can get back to your snuggling soon.”

A smile twitched at Paul’s lips. “Good.”

[steddieonmywaywardson]

Aaron Dingle Week Day 5

In which Aaron is saved. 

tw - mentions of domestic abuse, nothing graphic though

Prompt - “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy”

“Aaron?” 

Aaron feels the bile rise in his throat. His heart pounds in his chest. He dodges behind the nearest gravestone. He has no idea how long he’d been out here. It could’ve been hours. It’s pitch black in the areas not illuminated by the street lights and he’s hoping that the cover of darkness will provide ample opportunity to hide. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just needs to get away. 

“Aaron!?” 

Aaron closes his eyes and wills him to give up. He’s heard him calling his name from all directions and he still hasn’t shown any signs of going away. He’s so bloody loud Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up the entire village. He draws his knees to his chest and hides his face in them. He didn’t, didn’t, didn’t want anyone else to know. Once they got involved, Paddy, his Mum, Uncle Cain...no. He just didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t do it to them. Couldn’t shatter their illusions. He was happy...he was happy…he was happy…

The voice fades away. It sounds as if he’s going back by the village hall in the opposite direction. Aaron takes this opportunity to get to his feet and run out of the cemetery towards Hotten Road. He has no idea where he’s going. There’s no buses this time of night. But he has to get away. He can’t be around him another minute. He needs to breathe again. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop for so long now and tonight it did. Worse than it’s ever been before.

He charges out into the road, doesn’t see the car until he’s right in its path. The headlights are like two blazing suns, blinding him. His feet take root in the tarmac and he can’t move. The car moves towards him, closer and closer. Aaron closes his eyes again because maybe, just maybe, this is better for everyone. 

“What the hell!? Aaron!?” 

Arms around him. Pulling him. Moving him. The roots are broken. Someone sits him down. 

“Aaron?” He feels a hand on his shoulder. He flinches away from it. “What’s happened to you? You’re freezing!”

He can’t reply. The words won’t come. He wants to reach out but he just can’t. 

“Look, we’re going to drive ok? we’re going to go somewhere quiet, somewhere safe and then we’re going to work this all out. You just sit back and try to relax for now,” 

Safe. 

That’s what he thought he was. Only he was wrong. Like so many things before it, he’s messed it up.

The car is moving again but he doesn’t take in any of the sights around him. He has no idea where he’s going but he can’t bring himself to care. He just needs to be away from the village, away from him. He’s so tired, he can’t remember the last time he slept at night. He’s been falling asleep at random times lately. He’s just so exhausted all the time. The gentle movement of the car doesn’t help. The warmth. The comfortable seat. He closes his eyes…

“Aaron? Aaron? wake up…” 

A gentle shaking. Aaron’s eyes snap open. He’s tied down to something. He tries to get free but he’s clumsy, unco-ordinated..

“Hey, hey, it’s just the seatbelt. Come here, let me get it,” 

The pressure across his chest is released and he can breathe again. He looks to his right to see who his saviour is. 

“Robert?” 

“Aaron, what the hell is going on here?” Robert asks. He looks terrified and worried all rolled into one. “Look, it doesn’t matter right now. We need to get you inside ok?” 

Aaron looks out through the windscreen. The large, looming building, the bright lights. Hotten General. 

“No, no! Robert! please. I can’t go in there,” Bile rises in his throat again. 

“You need to, you’re obviously hurt,” Robert replies. “We need to get you checked out,” 

“Robert I can’t! You don’t understand! what if he’s in there? he’s clever. He’d check. And even if he’s not, he’ll find out. Someone will tell him. Please Robert. I can’t.” 

“Are you talking about Alex?” Robert asks. He’s still looking worried but now he seems more confused. He stares at him, searching his face until finally he gets it. “Wait, he did this to you?” He adds incredulously. Robert’s eyes are on his chest and stomach now. Aaron looks down. He was topless apart from an unzipped hoodie. Red blossoms are all over his torso, some are already deepening to blue, the worst ones already purple. He quickly pulls the hoodie around him, fumbling fingers pulling at the zip. He can’t bring himself to reply so he closes his eyes and gives the slightest nod. 

“Shit Aaron. How long has this been going on?” 

“Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy Robert. And you are. You did some terrible things but...you never...you wouldn’t...they all think he’s a hero. But he’s...please. Don’t make me go in there,” 

“We still need to get you checked out,” Robert says, his jaw is set and Aaron knows he’s already thinking about how he can get back at Alex. “I’ll drive you into Leeds. We’ll go to St James’-”

“No hospitals. I’ll be fine. It...it looks worse than it is. I’ve been in enough fights over the years to know. Just...just...drop me off at a hotel or something,” 

Robert doesn’t reply. Instead he starts the car and backs out of the parking space. He continues to drive wordlessly, an unreadable expression on his face. Aaron wants to stay awake but he finds it’s hard. Now that he’s calmed down a bit, he can feel the pain in his ribs and stomach. He’s tired. So tired. He wishes they could just stay like this forever. Driving into the night endlessly. He rests his forehead on the window and tries to ignore the pain.

Robert stops the car about twenty minutes later in the car park of some sleazy looking B&B. Aaron gets out of the car and he expects Robert to drive away because they’re not together anymore. They’re not even friends. Robert owes him nothing. But the car doesn’t start up again. He gets out as well. 

“Well it’s not The Ritz but I don’t think we’re going to get any better this time of night,” 

Aaron wants to argue. To tell Robert to go home. But he just can’t find it in himself to protest. Robert leads the way into the grubby little foyer and books a room for the night. He hands over his credit card and signs a couple of pieces of paper and is handed a key in return. Aaron follows behind as they climb a couple of staircases and turn into a hallway with a musty smell and a threadbare carpet. Robert unlocks the door nearest to them and gently ushers Aaron inside. 

It’s a small room with two single beds, a TV attached to the ceiling, a chest of drawers and a little bathroom to their right. The wallpaper is old and slightly yellowed with age. Robert leads him to one of the beds and sits him down. The sheets at least look clean. Robert busies himself at the dresser. There’s a little kettle on the top with some paper cups and various teabags. He watches as Robert makes a cup of tea, dumping a couple of sugars in it. 

“I know you don’t take sugar but it’s meant to be good for shock,” he explains when he hands him the paper cup. He sits down on the next bed. The room is so small their knees almost touch. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” 

“He just gets angry sometimes,” Aaron mutters with a shrug. “It started after he moved in, I dunno...everyone thinks he’s so good for me and I didn’t want to admit that I messed up again. That…” he feels tears come to his eyes. “I let someone else hurt me again…” 

“Hey, hey,” he feels a hand on his knee. “You never let any of that stuff happen ok? it’s not your fault. We’re going to sort this out. We’re going to get him out of your flat and you’ll never have to see him again. I’m not going to make you go to the police if you don’t want to but I’m not going to let you go back there,” 

“How?” Aaron asks shakily. He can feel himself beginning to tremble now. He has to put the cup down. He’s kept this a secret for weeks now and letting it all out feels like letting out a breath he’s been holding for too long. Another wave of exhaustion hits him. 

“I don’t know, but we’re going to work it out. You’re not alone ok? I’m going to help in any way that I can,” Robert says reassuringly. 

“We’re not even together anymore,” Aaron says sadly. He just wants to sink back onto the pillows and fall asleep. He’s got no fight in him. 

“You look knackered,” Robert replies. “Why don’t you try and get some kip? We’ll sort something out in the morning. I don’t know what yet but we will,” 

Aaron doesn’t argue when Robert pulls back the sheets and gently pushes him down. As soon as his head hits the woefully thin pillow, he can feel his eyes closing. He feels the sheets being carefully pulled over him and the last thing he hears is Robert’s whispered promise that he won’t leave him tonight. 

****

Robert watches as Aaron sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning in the narrow bed. He aches to wrap his arms around him and hold him close like he used to when the nightmares plagued him before. Instead he remains content with watching over him as he tries to kill the time by reading on his phone. 

He doesn’t know what they’ll do next but he does know that Dr Alex is going to regret ever laying a finger on Aaron Dingle. 

[musicprincess1990]

2 & 15 for the trope duos please! :))

Taken from this prompt list (still accepting, always accepting!)

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!  The last few weeks have been hell, between my dad getting sick and my job being stressful, I’ve been hard-pressed to find any motivation.  But!  You’re not here to read my sob story, you’re here for some tropey goodness!  Pre-series AU, Sherlock’s slightly OOC, but it’s AU, so it works.  Happy reading!

*

Molly cringed as a roar thundered from the room below hers, followed by a resounding thud, which she guessed was someone’s foot colliding violently with the nearest wall.  That someone being her temporary flatmate, Sherlock Holmes.

With her new position at Bart’s, she finally had the funds to have a flat all her own, and was supposed to have moved into a nice little spot over a week ago.  Unfortunately, the building had been very suddenly condemned, leaving her homeless until she could find a new place.  She made do with kipping on Meena’s sofa, but with her friend’s frequent visitors (particularly those of the male variety), she had a feeling her welcome would soon wear out.

One morning, while having lunch in the canteen, she’d been absently scrolling through listings online, when a familiar voice interrupted her perusal.

“I would recommend steering well clear of Southall Green,” he said, startling her into dropping her fork on the table.  He ignored this, and went on, “I know the landlord, an old schoolmate of mine.  I also know he charges exorbitant fees from his tenants under the guise of a homeowners association, but in fact uses the money to fuel his gambling addiction.  Can’t prove it yet, of course, but I will eventually.”

She swallowed the bite of pasta she’d taken before he’d turned up.  “Oh, well… thanks for the tip.”

He nodded, appearing satisfied she’d taken his advice, but remained where he stood, watching her with a curious expression.  Just as Molly was about to ask if he needed anything, he spoke again.  “Incidentally, I’ve recently moved into a new flat myself, and there is an extra room…”

Molly’s jaw dropped.  “Are… are you saying…?”

“Obviously, it would be temporary, until you find a new place of your own, but the location is rather ideal.  Baker Street, just a few minutes’ cab ride away.  And should I need access to a body for one of the Yard’s cases, it would be convenient to have you just upstairs.”

Of course, it was all about his convenience.  Nevertheless, Molly felt a blush forming beneath her cheeks, and a swarm of butterflies in her belly.  There was no denying her attraction to him—really, just look at the man!—and he was right, it was much closer to work than the condemned flat would have been.  That combined with the subtle arch of one eyebrow over his mercurial eyes… well, there really was no hope of refusal.

“Well… if you’re sure, that-that would be… fine.  Great, actually... thank you, Sherlock.”

He smiled briefly.  “I’ll text you the address, feel free to move your things in whenever is convenient.”  Sherlock glanced at his phone, then offered another smile.  “Sorry, must be off, missing persons case, rather high-profile.  I’ll leave your key with the landlady.”  And with that, he swept off in his usual, dramatic fashion, leaving her in her usual, befuddled state.

In the week since then, life at Baker Street had been fairly quiet.  In fact, Molly had seen Sherlock only twice since she’d moved in.  She knew he came home at some point each day, the odd used cup added to the sink full of unwashed dishes proving he at least took tea now and again.  She supposed he tended to come in after she’d gone to bed, and left each day before she woke.  She’d seen him in passing while she visited with Mrs. Hudson, their delightful landlady, acknowledging them both with a smile before reaching into one of the cupboards and swiping a handful of ginger nuts.  Mrs. Hudson scolded him, but made no further efforts to stop him, leading Molly to believe she was already quite fond of her new tenant.

The second time she’d seen him was perhaps an hour ago. It was her day off, and she’d spent most of the morning lazing about, but the aforementioned sink full of dishes demanded emptying, and put a brief hold on her lazing. She had just finished, and was about to settle into the new, comfortable-looking chair by the fire, when Sherlock pounded his way up the stairs, storming into the room and throwing himself onto the sofa.  He scowled at the ceiling, either ignoring her or oblivious to her presence.  Something about the look on his face told her not to try and make conversation, so she quietly made her way up the stairs, in order to give him some privacy.

A second thud yanked her from her thoughts, and Molly bit her lip in concern, mingled with annoyance.  Really, did he have to behave so childishly?  But her concern won out, propelling her down the stairs and back into the sitting room.  She peered in from the doorway in time to see a cricket ball soar across the room and make contact with the wall behind the sofa.  Ah, so not his foot then, she thought absently, watching the ball ricochet and land with a plop on one of the cushions.

“Molly,” Sherlock muttered grumpily by way of greeting.

“Bad day, was it?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”  He produced another cricket ball—just how many did he have?—and gave it a violent toss, producing the same result.  She counted four remaining on the sofa, and glanced back at him in time to see him reach into a box for yet another.

“Did you have a row with the wall?” she quipped.

Thud.  “Don’t make jokes, Molly.”

“Well, something must have happened for you to abuse it like this.”

He paused mid-throw and scowled at her.  “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Well...” she floundered, her reticent nature pushing her to retreat.

“Spare me,” he cut her off, and threw his sixth cricket ball, which seemed to be the last, as he picked up the box and refilled it with the balls that had settled on the sofa.  “There is nothing wrong with me.  I did not have a bad day, I simply... want to practice.  Never know when a good throwing arm might come in handy.”

“Bollocks,” she blurted without thinking, and his eyes shot up to meet hers.  “I-I mean...” she stammered, but then, from somewhere deep within her, a burst of courage found its way up.  “I don’t really... I don’t know you very well, but I know enough that oftentimes, your actions speak louder than your words.”  When he made no response, just stared at her, listening, she went on.

“You try to put on this... this emotionless mask... but anyone looking closely enough can see that’s all it is.  A mask.  You do have emotions, I see them when you come into the lab or the morgue, when you’re on a case.  It... excites you.  And I know you care very much for Mrs. Hudson, even if you won’t say it.  Clearly, there’s at least some level of affection, or she wouldn’t let you nick her ginger nuts,” she laughed softly, then sobered and looked him in the eye.  “And it doesn’t take a genius to know you’re upset about something right now.”

Sherlock continued staring, blinking a few times.  She’d seen that look before... once at Bart’s, he’d been on a case, trying to work out some clue or other.  He’d been stumped, something he was not used to being.

Had... had she stumped him?

“Um... Sherlock?” she frowned, feeling uneasy under the weight of his gaze.

Something in him seemed to snap.  In two quick strides, he had crossed over to where she stood, eyes blazing, and before she could stammer out a coherent question, he had cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

Oh Lord, did he kiss her!

His lips, soft and sweet and urgent, attacked hers with a passion she soon felt pooling in her belly.  As she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair, his arms moved to her waist, hoisting her up and pressing her against the nearest wall.  On instinct, she wrapped her legs around him, and was rewarded with a deep, guttural groan that shot through her like lightning.  He pressed closer, until, apparently not satisfied with their proximity, he pulled her away from the wall and carried her right into his bedroom.

Molly had no time to survey her new surroundings before being tossed onto the bed in a giggling heap.  Sherlock followed, and soon it was all tangled limbs, breathless sighs, and removal of clothing, leading up to what was undoubtedly the best shag of her life.

While she caught her breath, she half expected him to close off, maybe even leave (though it was his room).  Instead, he surprised her by wrapping his arms around her, guiding her head to his shoulder.  Sherlock Holmes is a cuddler! she thought gleefully, but kept this thought to herself, lest he push her away.

“Sherlock?” she began tentatively.

“Hmm?”

She gnawed on her lip thoughtfully.  “What exactly was that?”

He was quiet for a moment, then, “Molly, did your parents neglect to give you ‘The Talk’?  If that is the case, I have to wonder how on earth you managed such a glowing performance just now.”

Molly grinned at his compliment, but jabbed him in the side with one finger. “Not what I meant, and you know it!”

Sherlock sighed, shifting them both so they lay on their sides, facing each other.  His eyes, so stormy and intense before, now made her think of the ocean under a clear blue sky.  “I don’t think anyone has been able to read me so clearly.  Not even Mycroft.”

Mycroft?  Molly wondered who the owner of such an unusual name could be.  Then again, Sherlock wasn’t the most common name, either.  Still, she couldn’t imagine any other name suiting him so well.

“I lost a client,” he spoke again, his eyes shifting pensively to her hair on the pillow.  He moved a hand between them and toyed with the long, loose strands.  “Eighteen years old.  Looking for his younger brother.  I solved it... but not until after I’d found them both dead in a warehouse in Chelsea.”

Molly’s throat tightened.  “Oh, Sherlock...”

“I felt... guilt,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on the strands of her hair that slid through his fingers.  “Such a young man, barely a man at all, and his brother was even younger, only fifteen.  I deal with death on a regular basis, and it has never bothered me... until today.”  His eyes closed on an exhale.  “If only I’d been there sooner—”

“Stop,” she said firmly, and his eyes opened in surprise.  “Don’t you dare blame yourself, this isn’t your fault.  Sometimes, these things just... happen.”  She brushed her fingers along his cheekbone, and his breath stuttered a bit.  “You can’t save everyone, Sherlock.”

“Easy for you to say, they’re already dead when you meet them.”

Molly frowned and removed her hand, and the look he gave her as she did reminded her of a boy being scolded for doing something he didn’t know he’d done.  “Not good?”

Oh, the adorable man... it was all she could do not to kiss those pouting lips.

Molly sighed.  “No, not good.  But you’re upset, so I’ll forgive you. This time,” she added with a grin.

He smirked, all traces of boyishness gone.  “And I suppose the sex has nothing to do with it?”

“Keep that up, and I’ll un-forgive you,” she swatted him.

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now.”

“Mollyyyyy...”

“Sherlooooock...”

He silenced her with a kiss, and Molly completely forgot why she was cross with him to begin with.  Sherlock shifted until he was leaning over her, deepening the kiss and turning her insides to jelly.  She had just enough presence of mind, however, to break off and give one final warning.

“You can’t just snog me into getting what you want, Sherlock Holmes.”

“What if what I want is to snog you?” he countered.

“I mean it, Sherlock.”

He sighed.  “Fine.  I will never use your addiction to my body as a means of getting my way.  May I please get back to snogging you?”

“Oh, you—!”

But whatever insult she’d planned to throw at him was swallowed by Sherlock’s insistent lips.  And Molly just couldn’t bring herself to care.

[danwhobrowses]

WWE Wrestlemania 37 Day 1 - Review

Big Card, Not so big build

But it is that time of the year, we Stood, we Delivered, and now we shall Showcase for the Grandest Stage of them All

I got hyped for it by watching Bret vs Owen so I do have expectations, I haven't been spoiled too much save for the Main Event and the fact that there was storms that delayed the event, I dunno if they cut that content but we shall see Note: I am gonna bold who I predicted to win per match as well just to show how right/wrong I was

Spoilers for Wrestlemania Night 1, You Have Been Warned

Pre-Show The opening panel was not so great; Booker (with a captain Hook moustache), JBL, Lawler and Rosenberg, bunch of contrarian drivel really and trying to make Braun/Shane out like it deserves on the card just doesn't sit with me, that match robbed a potential Father/Son Tag Title Victory for the Mysterios (I know the Dirty Dawgs won on SD but I feel like they wouldn't have retained if it were Mania). Most of the promo packages were good at the least since they can cut out all the shoddy booking decisions and act like some stars were underbooked over the past year. I will say though, selling BelAir and Banks as 'the first time a women's singles match has main evented Wrestlemania' is a bit of a slight on the triple threat - which would've been 1v1 if Vinny didn't want to be adamant in adding more feathers to Charlotte's peahen plumage - it was still a singles match, sometimes WWE's desire for 'first time evers' are a bit insufferable. Also this is not 'the most important match of Cesaro's career', that is a terrible thing to say about a non-title match revolving around Rollins feeling embarrassed. The Hall of Fame recap was a mixed bag as well, mainly because I disagreed with some of the inductions and the way they tried to sell them bigger than what they are, but I was glad for some - Liger, Bulldog, Molly Holly, Kane...still waiting on Lillian and Andy Kaufman to get inducted though. Sonya also popped up to promote the tag turmoil and retreading the main event, she was super natural and should've been on the whole panel, or in the ring. Sonya's talents are wasted right now.

No Match though! An Hour of Recap lacked any entertainment seeing as we'd see all these promo packages again on the main card. So overall this was entirely skippable.

Main Card...Delayed Vince opened the event to address the crowd, which was kinda nice actually. It was a much more inclusive introduction than just having someone singing America the Beautifu-oh they're still doing tha-boooooooobs! It's also kinda weird looking at the roster not even on the card on the stage, like this is their only contribution for the entire year...

The intro package was a big obnoxious too, dude does an okay Jack Sparrow accent but it kinda went on a bit long, 10 minutes into the main show and there's no wrestling y'know?

Byron out with a super white suit as well, looking like Liberace as weather warnings echoed the arena, with news that it'll be worse tomorrow I hope that arena has a roof. With the delay WWE pulled with interviews, Big E even showed up to join his New Day buddies. Cole's 'Wrestlerainia' did not land and Braun saying 'I'm fighting for everyone whose been bullied' doesn't land either, we had this story with Nia and Alexa years ago. I also hate 'Herstory', like the literal word I hate it, History has adapted well beyond gender. Sure, it evolved from the Greek Histor which means 'wise' or 'a learned man' but the His is not the agent noun, the Tor is, and it's a gender neutral noun, if it were a Latin root then it'd be masculine but its root is Ancient Greek - there's your Etymology lesson for tonight.

The irony though, the moment fans get back in the arena they have to come back out because of rain.

Main Card - This Time Around Titus and Hulk came out as hosts to ramp up the crowd, it was kinda uncomfortable in context really, plus we don't need a third rundown of the card. Reminder that those in bold was who I earlier predicted to win.

WWE Championship - Bobby Lashley [w/MVP] (c) def. Drew McIntyre (Ref Stoppage Submission via Hurt Lock) Starting hot with the World title match again, bit odd to see Lashley do his point pose on the ramp and no pyro, but both men fixed their eyes on each other and barely looked away. Their history goes beyond WWE after all, not that the commentary would tell you. The did come out with a ton of falsities though, I know the WWE Championship was at several times the most prestigious belt in wrestling but not all the time in that 60 years, Big Gold Belt, IWGP and 10 Pounds of Gold had times too, AEW also can tout that, but Cole's most baffling claim was that you'd need to win it to be a Hall of Famer - on the same year Bulldog who never won a world title was inducted. No quick draw like last year, the match started with some meat slapping, Drew even gesturing a fuck you with the Bras d'honneur to Lashley after knocking him down. Both men would trade blows and advantage, Drew almost locking an armbreaker but Lashley clubbing free - very weird camera cutting there. Lashley hit 2 throws and a neckbreaker to regain the advantage, he didn't get the Futureshock but he hit a nice Northern Lights Suplex. Lashley hit his newer version of the Dominator and an Uranage but both only kept Drew down for 2, he almost got the Hurt Lock as Drew fought back with some blows and a front-facing Alabama Slam, he tried a superplex but Lashley fought out, tried a kimura but got knocked down, so he went for the Tree of Woe throw he does. Lashley gets him with another Uranage but Drew kips up, belly to belly, Futureshock, Futureshock, Futureshock! 1, 2, No! Drew calls for the Claymore but Lashley rolls out, MVP coming late, Drew then does a Tope onto both. He goes up top but almost gets caught with the Hurt Lock, an Exploder and a Flatliner puts Lashley in the driver's seat, he tries for the Hurt Lock again but is driven into the Turnbuckle, Drew then locks in the Kimura but Lashley gets to the ropes. After trading shots Lashley lands into a boot and a headbutt, Drew looks for the Claymore but MVP shouts to distract him, allowing Lashley to dodge and get the Hurt Lock in, Drew tried to fight back, tried to roll out of it by kicking the turnbuckle but Lashley cinched it in tight, fading, fading, and the ref calls the bell.

A very good opener this one, big men slapping meat can hardly go wrong. Not too many false finishes either and MVP only psyches Drew out rather than got fully involved. It was right for Drew to fade rather than tap too. First prediction wins, I did think it was a risk but I expected it because WWE had sold the idea that they wanted Drew to win in front of a crowd, but he had held the title for most of the year, so I anticipated the swerve. Still, we didn't have to break up the Hurt Business for this, hopefully Lashley gets more time to shine.

As Lashley celebrated with some strange camera switching we moved to Titus, the NWO and a Bayley segment. Bayley trying to sell her Ding Dong Hello and being denied some Two Sweets, a huge waste of Bayley's talents especially with the year she has had.

Tag Team Turmoil for a shot at the WWE Women's Tag Championship on Night 2 - Natalya & Tamina def. Naomi & Lana, the Riott Squad [Liv Morgan & Ruby Riott], Billie Kay & Carmella and Dana Brooke & Mandy Rose (pinfall by Tamina on Ruby Riott via Superfly Splash) Props to Billie Kay selling the lack of cohesion in her and Carmella's entrance as they started the match against Lana & Naomi. Naomi started with the advantage but it was traded to Carmella when Lana was tagged in, then to Billie, then back to Naomi. A double facebuster flattens Billie but Carmella breaks the pin, after Carmella throws Lana out Billie rolls up Naomi - who is also strengthened by Carmella lying on the floor but using her feet to keep Billie up right - for 3, eliminating that team. Naomi is not happy, as she should be that was a huge waste, as the Riott Squad come in. Sporting Suicide Squad Joker (Ruby) & Harley (Liv) outfits, the Riott Squad start hot but are foiled by Carmella's tag. Liv is the feeder to Carmella and Billie's combos, they try the same rollup trick but they are caught by the ref, Carmella's dumped allowing Liv to hit a codebreaker and hold Billie down for Ruby's senton for the 3, the two embrace but Carmella superkicks Liv as Dana & Manda arrive in pink, Mandy humorously slipping on the ramp did not go unmissed. With Liv taken out Ruby tried to fight alone, Dana hits a top rope blockbuster but Liv comes back to break the pin. Dana hits a spinning neckbreaker and tags Mandy in, a pin for 2 by Ruby opens the door for Liv to be tagged in, a Codebreaker/Riott Kick combo lands but the pin is broken by Dana. Cole accidentally calls Mandy 'Dana' as she rallies, Dana comes back to dump Ruby out as they land the Superplex/Swanton combo on Liv, Mandy pulls Ruby from making the save but Liv reverses the pin for 3. The announcer then wrongly says that the Riott Squad were eliminated and has to be corrected, making you think this wasn't the plan. Natalya and Tamina pick up the scraps, Natalya tries a Sharpshooter but gets rolled up for 2, she drops Liv onto the ropes and tags Tamina in. Natalya hits a powerbomb but Ruby breaks the pin before being dumped out by Tamina again. Liv fights both women enough for Ruby to tag in, an assisted spear on Tamina leads to the Codebreaker/Senton combo but it hits for 2. They set up the Codebreaker/Riott Kick but Tamina yanks Riott away and superkicks Liv. Natalya returns to hit the Hart Attack on Ruby, looks to set up the Sharpshooter but instead tells Tamina to take point, Superfly Splash gets the win. The champions look on on a monitor at their opponents.

A bit of a mixed bag this one, the wrestling was clean but I think external botching brought it down, as well as questionable booking decisions. Naomi is a multi-time champion she should not be pinned so quickly. I did again correctly predict Nattie and Tamina, but I personally wanted the Riott Squad to win, it was the Heyman dressing down that motivated me to pick the Daughter Combo - also weird that they acknowledge Tamina's heritage given what Superfly did. The Riotts at least got a great showing, the finish took a bit of a long time considering that all Liv took from them was a superkick and was out for 2 minutes, hopefully this'll inspire booking to push them which is well overdue. As for Tamina and Natalya, heel vs heel is a tough one, they didn't look like babyfaces here and while I do have them to win the titles this was not a good look for their chances.

Cesaro def. Seth Rollins (pinfall via Neutralizer) Seth entered the ring with a homage to the Andre OBEY print on his tights, followed by his Cesaro smear ad, then Cesaro in a weird choice of just a black jacket as well as black and yellow tights similar to his Wrestlemania XXX attire.

Cesaro starts with a huge uppercut and setting up the Swing, but Seth wriggles out, tries a big boot but Cesaro hits the Dragon Screw and tries for the swing again, but fails again. Cesaro gets a corkscrew springboard uppercut but Seth hurts his arm on the ropes, he gets an uppercut as Seth climbs on the turnbuckle but he kinda didn't get all of it. Going for an Avalanche Gutwrench Suplex, Seth rolls out into a Buckle Bomb for 2, Seth then preys on the arm, Cesaro's arm prevents a rally as Seth hits the Superplex/Falcon Arrow combo for 2. Cesaro flurries with uppercuts, he tries the swing but Rollins keeps countering, first a rollup then going to ropes followed by an Enzugiri, when he tries the Stomp though Cesaro gets the swing, 9 spins causes the arm to give way but he locks in the Sharpshooter (probably why Natalya couldn't/wouldn't do it last match), Rollins gets to the ropes and powers out of the Neutralizer, knee strike and a sling blade sets up for a Corkscrew Frog Splash for 2. Seth sets up the Ripcord Knee but gets lifted into a Neutralizer! 1, 2, No! (Commentary saying again 'and now Cesaro begins to doubt himself), Cesaro tries it again but lands into a Pedigree! 1, 2, No!

Seth gloats surviving both of Cesaro's big moves, clubbing the back of Cesaro's head with his hand and then his leg as he prepares a stomp, Cesaro then hits the uppercut, UFO! Gestures for the Swing and gets it! 23 Rotations, Neutralizer, 3!

That's what I'm talking about! Indy Darling match with some great spots, good crowd involvement and a proper babyface win. Cesaro thanks the crowd as they cheer him on, Seth did show some great creativity which I kinda hoped Cesaro would but it was a small thing in otherwise a great match. I guessed with my heart on this one unlike the Tag Team Turmoil, because of my Universal Title plans really, Cesaro has been given the chance to earn the push we all know he deserves and he's took it, now we can push him further.

Post-match they recapped the AMBR and 4-Way, bit off to say 'Veteran Experience pays off' when Rey was the most experienced of them all, also the 4-Way should've been on the mania card and the tag turmoil on SD. They interviewed the Dirty Dawgs to talk the Raw Tag titles, which was a bit rough to see, it's clear what the pecking order is in Vince's mind.

Raw Tag Championships - AJ Styles & Omos def. New Day [Xavier Woods & Kofi Kingston] (c) (pinfall by Omos on Kofi via Double-Handed Chokeslam TITLE CHANGE) Annoyingly the Champions came out first, but they were introduced by Big E, a Fusion Dance hologram graphic paired with their entrance as they came out in Red to rep the Tampa Bay Bucs in what would've been their 2020 attire, cheekily the 2020's last 0 was scribbled out and a 1 added. Blue trumpet though, couldn't recolour that. AJ and Omos came together too but no matching attire, Omos looked like he was going for dinner. AJ also looked like he stumbled a bit at the start.

Kofi goaded AJ into starting the match rather than Omos, leading to some liquid sequences from both former WWE Champions, each respectively rolling out of an SOS and Calf Crusher. After a back body drop Kofi stared down an unimpressed Omos, then twerked which hurt my soul. Kinda heelishly, Xavier tripped up AJ when a throat chop gave him a reprieve, leading to them keeping AJ in the corner, including the Unicorn Stomp as Omos continued to look unimpressed. Against Xavier AJ tried to drag him to his corner, but cannot get to Omos' halfhearted reaching. A team bulldog only gets 1 though. Kofi then continues to block the corner so AJ goes out of the ring to run around, only to be intercepted by Xavier. AJ continues to try and get to Omos, even being flattened by a splash by Kofi, when setting up their finisher though AJ elbows Kofi away, a visual exchange between the now free AJ and the top-turnbuckle Xavier preludes AJ finally tagging in Omos, Xavier frightened as Omos finally has a smile on his face. The 7'3 giant no sells Xavier's and Kofi's offense, charging into both on either turnbuckle, then a backbreaker to both. AJ then jumped over Omos to hit the Phenomenal Forearm to deal with Woods, Omos hit a two-handed chokeslam then pinned Kofi with one foot for the titles.

I didn't like this match's narrative, the wrestling was fine but the story wasn't done so well. For one, New Day acted more like the heels by bullying AJ and keeping him cornered, for second, Omos didn't really 'wrestle' he just no sold and did 3 safe moves and third, New Day are 11 time tag champions, Kofi a former world champion and they pinned him like that. Disrespect. The fact that the SD Tag Titles are second fiddle to a match where it's just AJ Styles plus the Great Khali, and that's Raw's Division right now, Two Thirds of New Day and this mismatch. This only highlights the severe lack of depth and WWE's booking hypocrisy. Next time you read about a 5 foot something wrestler not getting a title or a push because they're 'too green' or 'can't talk' remember that Omos won the tag titles on his debut match after doing a backbreaker, a turnbuckle tackle and a double handed chokeslam.

Humorous though is that WWE cut to a cringy Corbin ad break just as AJ was falling off of Omos' shoulders, I saw that WWE. We also cut to Sasha preparing for the match as the cage began to lower.

Steel Cage Match - Braun Strowman def. Shane McMahon (pinfall via Running Powerslam) The apathy for this match remains high considering that Shane showed up a couple months ago to steal a card slot from someone who could've been wrestling all year. Shane enters in his usual way, Braun with blinding fog and a train sound effect, cringy commentary as well as Shane keeps the door shut. Elias and Ryker soften Braun with chairs, attacking the legs and gifting Shane a chair who unloads on his grounded opponent. Once he feels he's done enough he tries to leave by the door, but Braun pulls him away, he tries to climb over the cage but gets pulled away, Braun declaring that he won't escape. Shane does his tacky jabs dodging Braun's wide swings, he tries to climb out again but Braun grabs him, but there's a planted piece of sheet metal that he uses as a weapon. After a 1 count Shane tried to escape through the door but fails, Braun decides to throw Shane into the cage walls, opening Shane to be struck by his blows and sandwiched between the cage walls, the leg gives out before the powerslam allowing Shane to ram Braun into the cage wall and DDT him, Coast to Coast gets 2 and Elias and Ryker climb the cage, hoping to pull Shane over, but Braun tackles the cage wall to knock everyone off. Shane makes the climb again but Braun is gripping onto him, bags are planted on the corners of the cage as Shane cracks Braun with a toolbox, as Shane celebrates he gets his leg over, he waves his hand through the cage at Braun but he grabs it, peeling off the cage wall to pull Shane back inside. Braun considers leaving but pulls Shane to the top of the cage, throwing Shane to the ring floor. Braun shouts at Shane, hits the running powerslam for 3.

It's good to be wrong here, though when I predicted Shane to win it was more a Pyrrhic win like being sent through a cage wall - because the build had Braun foolishly act like cage matches never have interference. This was a match, Shane planting weapons and using Elias and Ryker to prove himself 'smart' and Braun just powers out of it, the ripping the cage wall to drag Shane back in was a good spot - if not overly convenient since Shane could've dropped and gloated after - but it didn't need to be Wrestlemania.

Bayley comes back this time to the announcers table, bullying Cole out of his seat, but she's made to look stupid since Byron of all people tell her that they're waiting for the Hall of Famers, the HOF package happens again and the inductees able to attend appear on the stage, graphics of those who couldn't on the screen, NWO get their own entrance though with the NWO-painted Big Gold belt, bit unnecessary really they have enough spotlight.

Stone Cold announces the next mania in Texas in the AT&T Stadium, Booker then joins the announcer's table.

Bad Bunny & Damian Priest def. Miz and John Morrison (Pinfall by Bad Bunny on Miz via Crossbody/Electric Chair combo) A bunch of men dressed as bunnies hop into the ring before Miz and Morrison lipsync their diss track entrance. After the promo package Damian Priest makes his entrance, wearing the HBK Bondage shirt and sporting the purple, Bad Bunny appears atop of a Monster Truck in a pre-recorded segment with a lot of camera cuts, leading into the live version, looking like Rufus from Bill and Ted.

Miz and Morrison goad Bad Bunny to start the match so Priest tags him in, Miz mocks Bunny for a free shot and gets floored with a blow, waistlock and another punch, after a brief flurry Miz slows Bunny down but then gets caught with an arm drag, a toehold and a roll up for 2. Morrison attempts to snap Miz out of his frustration, but every offense he gets Bad Bunny comes back, this time with a spinning headscissors. Morrison's tagged in but gets headbutted, a 'bunny hop' jumping elbow, Miz's cheap shot leads to some heat feeding as Miz does some mocking bunny hops. He rolls over Miz for 2 but gets flattened with a boot, Morrison punishes Bunny on the announcer's table who then does a Spinaroonie while they continue to punish Bunny and incite Priest. Bunny gets a tornado DDT to open up the Hot Tag who cleans up house with strikes - more annoying camera cuts though. Chokeslam only gets 2 because Morrison breaks the count, Bunny comes in and both men hit stereo Falcon Arrows, both for 2, Priest does a tope, Bunny crossbodies from the top corner. Priest sets up his finish but gets caught with a Skull Crushing Finale, 1, 2, Bunny breaks the pin. Back into his corner Morrison tries to keep Bunny from being tagged, but Bunny hits a Canadian Destroyer onto Morrison on the outside of the ring, Miz and Priest awestruck. Priest sets up the Electric Chair, Bunny crossbodies and that's 3.

I may not know who Bad Bunny is, or particularly like his music, but he definitely meets the standards of the work celebrity guests should put in if they wanna be booked for a match. Bad Bunny did far much more spots than Omos, granted his punches flooring Miz was a bit unbelievable but overall he shone in an entertaining match, I feel bad for Miz and Morrison really, Miz was WWE champion about a month ago for a week and Morrison left at the top of Impact and AAA to come back for this? Maybe if he pairs up with his wife he'll get the booking he deserves. Also don't really know why Booker needed to be there on the announcer's table, aside from one mock spot and a GI Bro mention he didn't influence the match at all

SD Women's Championship - Bianca BelAir def. Sasha Banks (c) (Pinfall via KOD TITLE CHANGE!) And so comes the Main Event, the Royal Rumble winner comes out a sparkly EST outfit with tassels, Sasha with a black and neon green attire that definitely stood out. More shoddy camera cutting though kinda upset the flow of the entrance.

On Pre-Show - 'These two are in the Main Event regardless of Race, Regardless of Gender' On Main Event - 'For the first time two black women are having a title match on the main event at Wrestlemania' ...poor form WWE. Especially since you followed this with a Snickers plug.

The Bell rings as there are close ups on an emotional Bianca, duelling chants from the crowd as Sasha overpowers BelAir, leading her to kip up and get her own advantage, almost landing the KOD early. BelAir's power catches most of Banks' assault so she opts for counter-wrestling, she looks to count BelAir out but then decides for a Suicide Dive, but BelAir catches her and presses her back up the stairs and into the ring. Dropkick by Sasha gets 2, Bianca hits a powerslam but her handspring moonsault is blocked by Sasha yanking at the hair, using it as leverage to drive her knee into BelAir's head, Shining Wizard only gets 2. When Banks tries the knees in the corner she's planted with an Uranage, she tries to yank Bianca's hair into the corner post but Bianca powers her into it instead, a barricade crossbody also misses but the count is up to 6, both women roll in, BelAir uses an inside cradle to momentum herself up to a Vertical Suplex position, she slingshots 2 of the sides but Banks struggles, Bianca powers her back up but Sasha struggles again, BelAir powers again and lands the suplex but it takes a lot out of her. After clotheslining Sasha who was pulling on her hair, BelAir flurries with strikes and a running shooting star, Glam Slam hits but Sasha gets the knees up for the 450. The two trade pins and BelAir hits the Powerbomb for 2, she tries again but Sasha goes for a facebuster, Double Rotation Tornado DDT gets 2 for Sasha, a clunky Frog Splash which might've been a Meteora that Bianca was out of position for hits BelAir but only has 2, Sasha starts getting frustrated and goes for the arm, snaps it against the ropes then throws BelAir into the steps, she goes for the Bank Statement, wrapping Bianca's hair around her arm for added leverage, she tries to rebound off the ropes but Bianca rolls back to rope break, Sasha yanks the hair between the rope and stomps on her hair in frustration but this gets Bianca angry, she sets up a Superplex but is thrown off, she tries what looks like a Stratusfaction but gets locked into a Tree of Woe double stomp, Bianca avoids it and the running knee strike, landing the 450! 1, 2, No! Bianca freaks out, she was so sure that was it, but now the anger sets in, KOD set up but Sasha pulls the hair to right herself, Bianca cracks Sasha with her hair and tries again, but Sasha wriggles to try a Backstabber, Bianca escapes that, spins her around and lands the KOD, 1, 2, E.S.T.

A really good match from both women, met with a great ovation for Bianca. The match liked to prey on Bianca's hair a lot which may've been a little overdone, I would've liked to have seen it get a bit more than 18 minutes too. I predicted Sasha because I think Rhea's winning hers (I still do) and Sasha has once again yet to have a major Wrestlemania win, but I'm certainly not unhappy with BelAir - she put on a great performance here, especially with the fact that she fumbled her NXT Women's Title match against Baszler earlier, showing a lot more maturity and a strong face character to get behind. WWE should not have overdid the booking on this in the build but for the night, it is Bianca's night to close day one of WrESTlemania.

Conclusion NXT Stand and Deliver set a high bar for Wrestlemania to pull off, and for Night 1 at least I believe they definitely met it. There were a few downs, shoddy camerawork, non-wrestling botching and heavy mistreatment for Naomi, Bayley and the New Day but on the other hand we had great matches out of Cesaro, Bad Bunny and the other title matches including the main event, aside from the tag turmoil I'm not upset with the winners. Becky teased us with appearing before the show but it seems like it was a fakeout, was kinda hoping she'd be back but maybe it'll be Night 2

We will only find out on the night though, and there's a lot more to look forward to.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back- Chapter 39: Abscission (Trials 79-83)

Word count: 2533

Chapter warnings: Mild language, gore, strong themes

-----

       Just as they made it to the door (through Kris's path of destruction) the phone gave a little ring. The completion screen lit up, but it was abruptly changed as a different congratulatory message arose.

       Fatality skip: Trial 79

       "Another fatality skip?" Kyungsoo asked, concern evident on his face. "Is everyone here?" Doing a headcount, they looked around, finding that everyone was indeed still intact.

       "See?" Kris pointed out. "This is proof that the stupid thing is glitching out. None of us are dead, and yet it's still skipping. As long as it's not causing any problems, let's just be happy and move on." He did have a point. They obviously weren't dead, so it had to have been a glitch.

       "I guess..." Sehun said with some level of discomfort. "So I guess we just... Move on?" He asked. As everyone nodded in agreement, she did just that. The trial appeared, this time with new units... And penalties.

       Trial 80: Choose a path.

       Unit 1: Player Kris, Player Kai, Player Y/N, Player Baekhyun

       Unit 2: Player Xiumin, Player Kyungsoo, Player Chanyeol, Player Sehun

       Limited power: Xiumin, Kyungsoo

       Drop-out Fee: Arm

       "There's two limited powers from the same unit again." Kyungsoo said, pondering it. "It's probably another task of some difficulty then. It's getting harder."

       "Yeah, no shit. Welcome to Earth." Kris mumbled, headed towards a door without consulting anyway. Looking at each other, her and Xiumin went their separate ways, now in different units. In a similar fashion to the previous set of trials, the door shut immediately behind them. Still in possession of Sehun's charger, she lit the way, leading them to an identical room as the first- thankfully with no dogs. In a different turn of events, though, there were several other unsettling objects.

       Hanging on one wall, there was a large, comical wheel, covered in different colored bars. It ranged all the way from green to red, with every yellow and orange in between. It was mounted behind a glass case, but there was a button that would presumably cause it to spin. On the other wall, there was a metal helmet, wired into the wall. It wasn't as disturbingly scary as she would have expected for what she later figured out it was, but it was still bulky and unsettling. The app enlightened them.

       Trial 81: The Electrocution Game

       One player will wear the helmet, while another spins the wheel. The voltage administered by the device is dependent on the color landed on. The green slot will administer 5 volts, with the darkest orange reaching 50 volts. This trend is exempt at the red bar, which will administer 250 volts. Every player has to wear the helmet one time minimum, as well as press the button one time minimum.

       Unit 1: Player Kris, Player Kai, Player Y/N, Player Baekhyun

       Unit 2: Player Xiumin, Player Kyungsoo, Player Chanyeol, Player Sehun

       Limited power: Xiumin, Kyungsoo

       Drop-out Fee: Arm

       "250 volts?" Kai asked incredulously. "That has to be lethal."

       "I'm pretty sure even 50 could be lethal depending on your size." Kris agreed.

       "There's only one circumstance of guaranteed death." Baekhyun said with a shrug. "I don't mind those odds."

       "I'm surprised you're so calm." She said, looking over. She knew he used humor to get past his concerns, but at what point would he relent to his fears?        

       "I'm surprised he knows the words 'circumstance' and 'guaranteed'." Kris added on, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. "Well if you're so excited about it, you go first!"

       "Only if you spin my wheel~" He said, blowing a fake kiss. More than willing, Kris moved over to the wall while Baekhyun strapped on the helmet. Without even waiting for him to say that he was ready, Kris pressed the button, letting it run its course. She was honestly surprised that there was no shitty carnival music to go along with it. It landed a little left of the central area of yellow. She mentally tried to calculate how many volts that would be, guesstimating about 20. Bracing himself, he clutched his hands together and squinted, but eventually opened them again.

       "Oh, it didn't even-" Before he'd finished, his body shook as his eyes rolled back into his head. It only lasted a few seconds before he slid back against the wall breathing heavily. "Ohhhkay, that had a bit of a kick-" He laughed weakly. He tried to stand up straight, but his legs had sort of become jelly. She moved to help him, but he waved his hand.

       "No, no, I'm fine- who's next?"

       "I'll trade you," Kris offered, moving towards the other side of the room.

       "Not really feeling walking over to the button. You can go, though."

       "I'll press it," Y/N offered, silently hoping that it would land on an easy color. It wasn't that she wanted any of them to get something difficult, but at the same time, it would be worse if she were the one to do it. She knew that it was probably rigged anyway, but there wasn't really anything she could do about it. Waiting for Kris to give her an indication of his preparedness, she pressed the button, watching in abject anticipation as it clicked past each color. Her heart sank as it neared the red, stopping just short. It wasn't 250, but it was still risky... less than ideal, to say the least. Seeing her face twist in fear, he laughed,

       "No worried, I'm sure it'll be fi-" He choked on his own words as a similar situation to Baekhyun's racked his body, causing him to crash to the floor as well. This time, even after the shocks had stopped, his body was still jerking with electric energy, stopping his breathing momentarily.

       "Kris?" She asked frantically as she ran over to him, pulling him up. His eyes, thankfully, opened as he tried to laugh.        

       "Didn't even hurt." Obviously, that was a lie, but she sighed in relief. He was alive, and well enough to keep making shitty jokes. At this point, Baekhyun was doing fairly well, but she assumed it would take him another few minutes to even get remotely back to normal. It made her fear for her own turn. Still, she definitely wasn't about to lose an arm, so...

       "Here, give me the helmet." She said, gently taking his face as she unbound it from his head.

       "Um, absolutely not." Kai said, walking up from behind her to try and take it from her. Ripping it out of his loose grip, she glared.

       "I'm going to have to go eventually, so I want to go now."

       "Yeah, but-"

       "There's no way out of it, so back off." She said, a snarky tone that she didn't intend ripping out at him. He looked more than unwilling to let it happen, but she wasn't really giving him a choice. Strapping it to her head, she looked to Baekhyun, who had already made his way over to the button, assuming that Kai would be unwilling.

       Pressing it, her body tensed as she waited for it to land. Even Kai couldn't tear his eyes away from it. Click... Click.......... Click.

       Green.

       She sighed in relief, as did the other boys. By some miracle, she had gotten he lowest voltage. It wouldn't be pleasant, but it wouldn't be fatal, either. She felt the electricity sink through her scalp and rush through her veins, giving her a less than ideal itchy feeling under her skin. It felt like it went on for days, when in reality she knew it was only a few seconds. Once it finished, she leaned back against the wall, but was able to remain standing. Sighing in relief, she looked to Kai with pride. He said nothing as he took the helmet from her, putting it on his own head.

       Thinking through the process of what had just gone on, she tried to figure out who was meant to press the button for Kai. She's pressed for Kris, he'd pressed for Baekhyun, and Baekhyun pressed for her...

       "Oh, fuck-" She said, looking between them. "Kai has to press his own button, otherwise we'll end up doing an extra spin."

       "How did no one catch that?" Kris groaned from his seat on the floor, holding a hand to his face.

       "Who's going twice?" Baekhyun asked, worried. He hadn't even gotten the worst of the wheel, but he certainly didn't want to experience it a second time. Rolling his eyes, Kai stopped their conversation.

       "It's fine, I can press it myself." She watched as he teleported over to the button, pressing it before the helmet had even fallen. His abilities were certainly impressive, and she loved to watch. It was intriguing, and the look of concentration that he always wore on his face when doing so was actually satisfying to see. As the wheel spun, it slowed in the yellow zone, landing somewhere between Baekhyun's and Kris's panels. Not only had he avoided a fifth spin, but he had a pretty good lot as well. Maybe if the game was rigged, it hadn't been expecting him to figure out a solution to their doubling-up problem.

       He took the shock surprisingly well, not reacting like Kris and Baekhyun. Obviously he couldn't help the involuntary vibrations, but he even remained standing as they finished up. Looking down at the screen the trial had been completed, but the other unit's hadn't. It didn't take them much longer, and everyone had basically recovered by the time both units were ready. She pressed the button to continue as the door swung open.

       Stepping through, they were faced with yet another identical room. This one was more similar to the first in that it had a medical setting as well as a gurney, although the latter was much larger. It was clearly a human being. Walking over to it, they saw that it was of decent build, potentially 5'8" or 5'9". She dreaded looking at the challenge, already knowing what it was going to entail.

       Trial 82: Find the key in the body.

       Unit 1: Player Kris, Player Kai, Player Y/N, Player Baekhyun

       Unit 2: Player Xiumin, Player Kyungsoo, Player Chanyeol, Player Sehun

       Limited power: Kai, Xiumin

       Drop-out Fee: Arm

       "Well, uh, at least it's only one body this time?" Baekhyun said with a shrug.

       "Oh, you guys got the same trial?" Kris asked. "We were wondering why it took you so long." Shel looked over at him in concern.

       "You just ripped open a dog, no hesitation?"

       "I'm trying to get out of here, man, I'm not sure there's a lot I wouldn't do."

       "Good, then you can deal with this, because it's a human this time."

       "Yeah, a dead human. We're not doing anything to them." Trying to keep from looking visibly disgusted, she turned around as she had before, allowing them to handle it. She felt a little bit guilty, but if Kris was so eager, let him do it, she didn't care. She heard the sheet fall to the ground, but followed by the gasps of several dumbstruck men. She figured that seeing a dead body would shock anyone, but... they fell completely silent. Curiosity getting the best of her, she turned around, only to literally fall back onto the floor. Lying on the table, covered in cuts and skin slightly dry, was an all too familiar face.

       Well, their suspicions had been confirmed- Chen had died trying to get through the maze. And now he was sitting here, on the table, subject to the gruesome horrors of the unit trials, forced to participate despite his abrupt exit from the game. She immediately turned back around, tears involuntarily falling down her face as she drew her knees to her chest. This had to be a nightmare, there was no way...

       She heard the boys muttering to each other through the state rushing in her ears. The only clear words she could make out were when Kai told them to cover the man's face with the sheet. She couldn't stop shaking, even as she felt a hand on her back. Terrified of what she might see, she just barely uncovered an eye to notice Baekhyun right next to her. He sat on the floor beside her, holding her head to his shoulder and covering her exposed ear so that she didn't have to. It caused her to completely break down, but he didn't say anything, just waiting for Kai and Kris to finish doing what they had to do.

       She hadn't even noticed they were done until Baekhyun was pulled away from her. Looking up, she saw Kai out of the corner of her eye before she was picked up. Holding her under her thighs, the man situated her so that her chin was on his shoulder, walking out of the room assumedly after Kris as she saw Baekhyun follow. Trying to pull herself together, she wriggled one of her arms away from his chest to pull her phone out of her pocket, looking at it over his shoulder. Once again, she saw a completion screen, followed by... a fatality skip.

       Why was it skipping again? Was there yet another glitch? No one else could have died, it... Her eyes widened as she wondered in horror if Chen had been alive that whole time. It couldn't have been... Kris would have noticed if the man had been breathing, right? For that matter, any of them would have seen the sheet moving before they'd even uncovered it. But yet, there the message sat:

       Fatality skip: Trial 83

       When they'd walked through the door, they made it to a conjoined room, but the other team hadn't yet arrived. Since it differed from the other room in terms of a trial-locked door, they would simply have to wait. It took longer than she'd expected, given the closeness in timing regarding their other trials, but they eventually came through, just about as filthy and covered in undesirables as her own team had been. As they began to walk through, Kai turned around to see, meaning that she could no longer make them out clearly. Turning her head at an awkward angle, she saw Xiumin, followed by Kyungsoo, and then just barely the taller frame of Sehun.

       "Where's Chanyeol?" She muttered, tapping on Kai's shoulder blade. As she said this, something she thought was nonchalant, she felt his grip tighten significantly and his breath intake sharply, but he quickly tried to recover. "Kai? What-"

       "Shh, you're tired." Trying to escape from his grip, she shook her head like a little kid.

       "No, put me down, where-"

       "Stop it, Y/N." Finally, she managed to squirm out of his grip, looking to the others as everyone was staring at the ground. Everyone but...

       "Where's Chanyeol?" She received no response as she felt the tears spring back to her eyes. She ran over to Kyungsoo, tugging on his shirt in an attempt to get his direct attention. "Where-" she felt herself choke on the words. "Where is he?" He could barely look her in the eyes before turning away from her.

Go to Chapter 40

[orionsangel86]

Episode Review - 14x01 - Want, Everything, Sunshine, and Beyonce

Hellatus is over everyone! Put away the crack memes and shit posts and bring out your meta caps because we are back in business! Oh boy are we back in business! 

Right before @tinkdw came over to watch the premier with me, we discussed our expectations and both agreed that whilst our expectations were pretty much in our boots, we would consider the episode a success if it was even remotely meta. We wanted to be able to see clearly constructed themes both as a continuation of what had come previously and as a foundation for a strong season going forward. We were both hoping that at least from a meta perspective, that the episode would leave us happy and thirsting for more.

Dabb did not disappoint us.

It was such a strong episode meta-wise. There is a lot to pick apart that is ripe for discussion and I seriously hope that Dabb will keep a close eye on the other writers to ensure that these themes continue throughout the season. Plot-wise it was a weaker episode, but then again Dabb has always focused on the character emotional arcs more than the actual plot points in recent years, and I am grateful for that. The second half of season 13 felt stagnant to me simply because there was little to no character development and from a meta perspective it was also extremely weak. I went into this hellatus feeling negative about the show simply because I hadn’t actually enjoyed an episode properly since 13x12. However, the season 14 opener was most definitely enough to quench my thirst and get me excited for the coming season. Fingers crossed it goes from strength to strength.

Long review under the cut

Michael!Dean - What Do You Want

Straight in after the introductory Nyoooom of Baby (driven by a grim looking Sam and a pretty impressive swap from title music to diegetic music), we are introduced to the angel of the hour. 

8 Things about Michael:

1. I am not sure how I feel about Jensen’s performance right now. He is playing Michael extremely straight and whilst I can see how this cold, calm portrayal can come across quite terrifying, it’s not a carry over from Christian Key’s performance. I don’t want to be too critical, because we only saw him in a few scenes so far, but when I compare it to how Tahmoh portrayed Gadreel alongside Jared, and the way Misha pretty much nailed Mark P’s performance (and greatly improved it), I guess I’m still waiting for Jensen to WOW me in the role. The one thing I will say is that he did terrify me and managed to come across creepy when acting alongside his own WIFE. So he's doing something right I'll give him that. When Jensen wants to have chemistry with someone, he does.

2. I like the fact that Michael’s goal right now seems to be to educate himself on our world. He’s not running around causing terror and mayhem like Lucifer, he’s learning how best to go about “improving” the world. He also appears to be inspiring people with his words: “Holy men, leaders, killers” and we have seen the effect he had already on Kip the Demon - who was inspired to run for King of Hell until Sam Fucking Winchester ruined that plan. I wonder if we will be seeing the fallout of Michael’s specific type of inspiration throughout the season.

3. “What do you want?” Obviously this question is an important one. It was repeated like six times throughout the episode, though never to the main characters. It looks like this is going to be the theme of the season and as far as TFW’s personal journey’s go, this is now the question we are asking them and the question being explored. What does Sam want? Or Cas? Or Dean? This has an endgame flavour to it that has me extremely excited. 

4.Michael’s own personal want of “A better world” is a follow on in a way of many of the villains that have come before him. For seasons now we have been exploring this concept of improving the world for the better. We had it first in season 8 when the brothers had the goal to do the trials to make a world without demons, in season 11 Amara’s vision was to destroy so she could reshape the world to her own blueprints that she saw as better than Chuck’s. Dabb era has been even more obvious, first with the goal of the British Men of Letters being “a world without monsters” which was shared by Mary wanting a better world for her boys, and then in season 13 Jack’s arrival floated the idea of “paradise world” to Castiel. I don’t think Michael is gonna fair any better than any of these others, and wonder exactly where all these escalated versions of “a better world” will end up. It's all exploring the notion that nothing is black and white, but in fact a grey area.

5. I already discussed Michael and Sister Jo here. Cas mirrors... Cas mirrors everywhere... I also side eye the "pretty things" line because it reaks of Dean and his whole sublimation thing. In that sense it seems Dabb is making Jo a mirror for both our boys. I'll be keeping a close eye on her from now on.

6. ”Why would he say yes to you?” “Love”. OH DEAN. Just, Dean wasn’t in this episode but my god did we feel his presence RIGHT HERE. And to think there are people out there that still think this is a macho mans show about macho manly men. I’ve never known another character with more heart than Dean Winchester. This show is about LOVE above all things. I wish people would stop trying to deny that fact.

7. Radioactive Pigeon:

Look I’m not trying to be critical okay it’s very pretty and this is the FIRST time they have attempted showing an angels true form and that is amazeballs and all, but still. He has little pigeon wings and a bent halo. Pfft.

8. The Purity of Vampires. I actually love this. I think it comes across a bit silly on the surface, but the whole idea of monsters being pure is a massive callback to purgatory and season 8 and anything that calls back to season 8 makes me happy. 

Sam Fucking Winchester

Excuse me while I scream HELL YES. I have been waiting for Sam to take on the leadership role for AGES. Honestly this was always my dream endgame for Sam. To organise and lead the hunting community. There’s your better world guys. It was something that the writers flirted with in late season 12, but at the time Sam only took on the position with Dean’s approval and encouragement to go ahead. Sam has always stepped back and let Dean take the lead throughout the show as the big brother and parental figure. I think this was always a role he was destined to fill and something that has been building in the subtext for a long time (much the same way as the toxic codependency has been shown to hold Sam back.) 

What’s of interest here is what will happen when Dean comes back and is fighting fit. Will Sam relinquish his leadership position to Dean? Or fight for it? Will this cause conflict? I read this amazing meta on this which turned into an epic discussion and I highly recommend reading it. My HEART.

Sam’s state in the episode is one of constant motion. He cannot stop for a second, always being pulled from one thing to another. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t get to change out of his hideous blue and orange shirt (which is officially now my favourite Sam shirt), he doesn’t even get to finish his soup. I know Jared said that Sam had a ‘grief beard’ but Tink and I are adamant that the beard is simply due to the fact that Sam doesn’t get the time to shave. He has taken so much weight on his shoulders and in amongst that has to deal with horribly traumatic things such as face the face of his abuser and actually be a healer to him. Sam doesn't get a moment to himself and spends all his time concerned about others. It's very noble of him, but he's going through the motions.

Sam is the contrast here to both Cas and Dean, who are physically and mentally stuck in their awful situations. Sam is also stuck in a way, stuck with no time to actually contemplate the situation he has got himself in. Stuck without a moment to breath, or to grieve his brother. Stuck holding the weight of the world on his shoulders as every other single character looks to him for support, help and guidance. Sam is the motherfucking Beyonce of the episode, that is for certain.

He is also calling the shots on hell now...

(x)

... I find it amusing that back in the early days Sam's destiny was to be the boy king of hell, and it's almost like he's fulfilled that destiny, not by being king, but by being gatekeeper and in a position powerful enough to scare the demons into submission. This is probably what Crowley intended. Sam probably owns the moon now.

About Nick - Well, first of all, I TOLD YOU SO. I did say that I could tell the guy from the back of his head and I was damn right about that. Learn to trust me guys I am occasionally good at this stuff. Okay, now that that is out of my system, let’s talk about this. Round of applause for Jared in this scene. Because he takes Sam’s hell trauma extremely seriously and made sure that every nuance, every twitch, was picked up by those camera’s. I loved that. Potentially Nick could be a good way to help Sam heal in the coming season, as Sam has finally freed himself from Lucifer’s grasp. Is it fair that he should have to look after the face that tormented him for years? No. Not at all, but could it prove somewhat cathartic in the end? Maybe. 

At the end of the day, Dabb must have considered Nick to have a purpose beyond “I want to give Bucklemming something to play with so they don’t fuck up my actual story” and “We need to keep stroking Mark P’s ego for some stupid reason”. Because otherwise I am really worried about how limited his power must be, and refuse to entertain the thought that he was overthrown by Singer and his horrid wife. I can see the potential in Nick being a dark mirror for Dean following his freedom from Michael’s possession. How Nick deals with the post possession trauma could be an indicator to how Dean is really coping even when he buries it.

At the same time, both Sam and Cas have been possessed by Lucifer, and therefore have all the experience between them to help Dean’s recovery without needing Nick to get involved. So I dunno guys. I’m trying to see the positive in something I otherwise despise. 

Anyway I thought Jared was fucking superb in that scene and pretty much the whole episode and want to give him a round of applause because it is rare that he truly gets to shine on his own without Jensen by his side.

Now all we need is for Sam to get some sleep. How he is still functioning by the episodes end I will never understand.

Castiel Everything Winchester

(x)

Look at him. So defiant and done. You can almost imagine that fire behind him burning in his eyes as well. He’s such a dom.

Several things about Cas in 14x01:

1. He is 100% done with every demon on the planet and doesn’t give a fuck. Honestly though. The way he says “Oh God” when Kip walks in. The way he rolls his eyes. I wonder if he had Dean’s voice in his head saying “You know who wears sunglasses indoors Cas? Douchebags.” 

2. He is making desperate choices in order to save Dean, which is certainly typical for him. The fact that he spends the entire episode stuck in a chair is a fantastic metaphor for his whole feelings on the situation, a metaphor then reinforced through a mirror at the end when he speaks with Jack (we never get anything explicit with Cas do we?). The fact that Cas can’t save Dean right now is weighing on him, but he is determined to do whatever it takes. The conversation he has with Sam at the end is a brilliantly short but important moment:

“I should never have gone to those demons”

“Cas no I don’t blame you. honestly I wish I had thought of it first. If it meant finding Dean I’d work with.. I’d do anything.”

The takeaway here is that actions speak louder than words. Sam HAS been distracted being leader of the hunters and having to face his own nightmares thanks to Nick, but Cas has literally been doing anything he can with a soul focus on saving Dean. 

It's an intimate moment between them. In a bunker now bustling with life and movement this is the only time in the episode that it really seems still. The library has always been Sam's private space, where he feels most at home - like the kitchen is for Dean. But here he and Cas sit as equals together weighed down by their shared grief. It's the soft moments like this that I love the most about this show. They are both willing to do anything they can, but the difference is that whilst Sam is being pulled in lots of different directions, Cas’s sole focus is Dean. Note that heaven wasn’t mentioned once. It hasn’t even crossed his mind.

3. Everyone Knows, but Cas doesn’t give a shit. 

“How is it you lost Dean, I thought you guys were joined at the... well you know, everything.”

It is an extremely explicit nod to Destiel. It is also the first time a line like this has made it into an episode since season 7 I think. The difference now being that we’ve had years of steady subtext and narrative building on the love story, hence the line has a different weight to those previously. It was very carefully written, careful not to imply that Cas was joined to BOTH Winchesters as the line was specifically about Dean. It was written by the showrunner, who would have known the significance of such a line, it encourages the view that all of heaven and hell have made their own assumptions about Dean and Cas’s relationship, and in case anyone wants to argue that the missing word was “hip” like the saying goes, the gesture and nod by Kip goes to prove otherwise. In other words, there is no platonic interpretation. Which is delightful.

Cas’s completely stoic silence is even more delightful. God I love him.

4. He can’t see demons true faces anymore. Like everyone else, Cas not realising those people were demons really threw me for a moment. Tink and I both agreed that the scene should have had Kip snap his fingers and have the demons smoke in and possess all those people instead - still catching Cas off guard but not making it seem like he is just super unobservant. I personally feel like this was just an error Dabb made. I have no desire to try to meta explain that one and I accept it as the error it is. I do like that it took an entire room of demons and 4 sets of enochian hand cuffs to overpower him though...The fact that he had to sit there and watch his family be beaten and almost killed around him whilst he was helpless again, is an excellent parallel to Dean’s current situation and what he will most likely have to face in the coming episodes, and also a reflection of Cas’s mental state (as mentioned above), Coming out of this episode it seems like this will be another season where Cas and Dean mirror each other and walk similar paths in terms of growth and development - if only those paths would meet with a kiss!

5. He’s the bait. Tink found this line hilarious straight away, where as I had to blink and ask why because I obviously took offence. But once we started discussing it and realised the quadruple entendre it is I found myself applauding Dabb on his genius. Cas IS used as bait, by the SPN PR people. Because he’s Mister Popularity. He’s also the character who causes the most conflict in fandom, with those who love him so much they are bitter and mean and those who simply hate him often complaining about the exact same things but in different ways - leaving the regular fans stuck in the middle (Tink explained this to me with delight - how both anti’s and bitter!cas girls alike will latch onto that line for completely different reasons). He’s also potentially a queerbait depending on how you look at it. But anyway. Cas’s epic eye rolls in this episode were almost enough to rival Sam’s bitchfaces. I am impressed.

6. He takes no pleasure for himself. I am forever going to obsess over Cas’s relationship with human food and drink:

“Coffee has no effect on me.”

“Me either, not anymore. But its like with saltwater taffee or infants, you know I just like the taste”

Although we can argue his refusal is out of stubbornness to not give the demon the satisfaction, even when accepting drinks from the Winchesters he doesn’t usually bother, or will stick with water. Even if he is seen ordering coffee it is usually only to avoid looking suspicious in diners. We know Cas enjoys some food and drink, but Cas rarely allows himself the pleasure. Even in 13x14 when Dean offered him a beer, it remained unopened. A symbolic metaphor for Cas refraining from indulging in other pleasures? This is why I am so so desperate for Michael to ask Cas what it is HE wants. Lucifer stated that Cas was a “pleasureless dullard” and I want to see this theme continue. Cas uses his grace as an excuse not to indulge and I consider this linked to meta about the “sacred oath” of heaven and Cas being duty bound and numbed by his grace. But these are all elements for a bigger meta at another time and the moment in this episode is just another snippet of that.

7. He looks awesome framed in fire. I just really liked the set up of Motown Meats as the new hang out for hell, with its fire pit and orange glowy bar. There is a lot of general symbolism there but I enjoyed the flames framed behind Cas in every shot he was in. Because even though he was mostly stuck in this episode, that fire raging inside him didn’t burn out once. He WILL save Dean. Just as he promised to Jack at the end, even if he get’s battered, beaten and bruised, his determined stubborness to save his husband will win eventually. Cas is no longer the broken thing of seasons 11/12. He well and truly rose like a phoenix in season 13 and now it’s showing through, as it’s a mission fueled by his own passion and love.

Jack Winchester (AKA my nougat son)

Poor Jack, like his father he hasn't had it easy in 14x01. He is struggling with his humanity now, his usefulness, in such a clear mirror to Cas that it kinda hits you in the face. He is desperately seeking guidance from those around him. First in the form of AU Bobby who has clearly bonded with Jack following their experiences together in apocalypse world.

It is great to finally see the Bunker gym! A room we all have ingrained in our fandom hive mind thanks to a 100 destiel fanfics. We all know what's gone on in there. >.>

Throughout the episode, Jack seeks out guidance first with Bobby, which goes badly, then with Sam, which is interrupted, and finally with Cas, which is when he finally gets told what he needs to hear. I am really happy that whilst Jack has so many father figures now, it is Cas who truly holds that torch and is able at least somewhat give Jack what he needs near the episodes end. If only he had damn well given his son a hug!

I loved the conversation so much that I transcripted it here:

JACK: I’m fine.

CAS: You did well

JACK: All I did was get punched. In the face

CAS: To be fair we all got punched in the face

JACK: That’s not - Before when I had my powers I could have done something

CAS: Jack you don’t have your powers, and your grace should regenerate in time, but until then..

JACK: I’m useless. I cant kill demons I cant find Dean and Michael is in our world and I cant stop him.

I can’t do anything. I don’t have anything.

CAS: Oh Jack. That’s just not true. You’ve got me. You have all of us. You have your family.

And we are going to find dean and we are going to beat Michael and we are going to do it together. Because that’s what we do.

This whole conversation was PERFECT. Every line chosen so specifically and weighted with meaning. Urgh Dabb I fucking love you for this.

Jack starts with “I’m fine” which Cas knows by now means you are not fine but he has also learned to recognise that sometimes it doesn’t mean “leave me alone” as Jack was crying out for guidance and support here. 

The mirrored “got punched in the face” calls to attention the fact that Jack is a reflection of Cas himself here and everything he has felt both now and in the past.

Jack’s complaint about being useless without his powers is a fear Cas has carried with him since his fall in season 9. It’s something that still weighs on him and whilst Cas now knows his place by the Winchester’s side, knows that they are a family and that he is not just a hammer, I think that fear of losing his power and being cast out is still well and truly weighing him down. It will be cathartic for Cas to see the family accept Jack as one of their own even if he is “useless” and human. 

Cas’s “That’s just not true” when Jack says he is useless - his voice breaks and you KNOW Cas has had those exact same thoughts.

“you’ve got me, you’ve got all of us. You have your family” compared to You’re my family, I love you, I love all of you” compared to “We're family. We need you. I need you.” The difference is there is no ambiguity in the word ME. Dabb turned it around, but had Cas clear it up. It’s the same line every time. The only difference is the placement of each individual statement. If this isn’t yet another clear example that the “I love you” was specifically directed at Dean I don’t know what is. THIS IS A CONTINUING PATTERN PEOPLE.

The determined promise to save Dean at the end, right after he specifies the singular and plural because obviously Dean was on Cas’s mind at that point - Mister I Don’t Get Words Wrong over here knows exactly what he means.

I love this whole conversation, but as I said above, it drums home the fact that whilst the Winchesters and others may be sources of guidance and support for Jack, he only has one true father, and I think Dabb wanted to make that clear in this episode. Remember:

Fingers crossed for more father/son bonding between these two in future episodes.

Mary and Bobby

(x)

Baring in mind I was expecting 1 small Destiel moment in the episode in the form of a line from a demon. You have NO IDEA how happy this moment between Mary and Bobby made me. If anyone saw that inktober pic I drew for premier day of me and Tink gasping in shock at the screen, it was for THIS moment. My face lit up in delight.

I said at the start of this long review that Dabb picked his moments well. With every second counting from a meta perspective. This was one of those.

Tell me, anyone, when watching that moment, would you deny that there was something between Bobby and Mary? As homework I'd like you all to play this scene to your heteronormative friends and family, or even be brave and ask a bibro. Would ANYONE deny that it was intended to be romantic?! I highly doubt it.

And yet there was nothing textually explicitly romantic about it. There was NOTHING in this scene that hasn’t been filmed a thousand times between Dean and Cas. The fact that Dabb chose to write this extremely small seemingly unimportant moment, in the kitchen, and for Bobby to use THOSE EXACT WORDS. As I have mentioned several times already, Dabb doesn’t fuck around when using well known moments from past canon in order to reinforce the importance of a thing. Dabb LOVES parallels. He wrote Bloodlines after all. He also knows the fandom hive mind and the things we pick up on and latch on to. This was a very smart calculated decision to include this in the episode and I am LIVING that he did it. GIVE ME ALL THE BOBBY x MARY/ DESTIEL PARALLELS. 

...

I actually really liked Mary in this episode. There is so much discourse in fandom about her and whilst I find Sam Smith pretty cold and wooden, I have never understood the utter hatred of Mary as a character. Hence why I praise Dabb’s genius at this moment:

(x)

Because this line literally sums up her entire arc since her return. Tink and I paused the episode and basically flailed at each other because this is EXACTLY what Mary has been trying to do. She was in HEAVEN, with her BABIES and suddenly she is back on earth with two grown men who are strangers to her, telling her they are hunters and have suffered a life of HORRORS without her. So she ran. Hell, I would have ran too. She shoved herself into hunting because all she could think about was trying to make things GOOD for her boys. Trying to FIX her mistakes the only way she knew how: by HUNTING. She was drowning in the bad. So she found focus in trying to make things good. Like in this episode, she reassures Sam so much that he snaps at her. He doesn’t want to be reassured, and that’s fine. But my god this felt like the first time Mary has truly had a voice. I really weren’t kidding when I said that Dabb made sure every word counted.

OTHER THINGS

I am unsure how I feel about the title card:

Tink called it. I think it looks a bit odd, a bit too clean. I like the title cards to be grim and dark. Black angel wings though! And hey, at least the fiery halos in the title cards are perfectly spherical... so we know they CAN do it right...

*side eyes SFX team*

Kip as a wannabe Crowley was kinda fun for a one off episode but I am glad that they are stressing now that wannabe Crowley’s get killed. The last one we had was Bart in 13x08 who was very much the same flirtatious queer coded demon. I’m fed up with the villainous queer coding by now. It’s been done too often. Give me another Demon like Alastair or Ramiel or none at all.

“Asmodeus Kentucky Fried” DID ANYONE LIKE ASMODEUS OTHER THAN BUCKLEMMING? This made me LOL.

The fight scene at the end was really weird and overly long. I dunno why they decided on so many random slow mo and wooosh shots. the whole Mary slow mo throwing the blade at Sam was cringy. I wish they’d stop being experimental and stick with what they know! You think they’d learn after 13x23!

Maggie was a bit annoying. Why bring her along if she can’t fight? Also the random cuts to her reaction after Jack was angsty had me reeling. simply because in het couples that’s a brewing romance and that is a massive NOPE from me. I like her as an individual character, I DO NOT like her as a love interest to a 1 year old, and I certainly wouldn’t like some pining story for her where she falls for an unavailable guy. It’s not fair on her character. The one thing I did like was the “pointy end” comment. It reminded me of Charlie for some reason.

The throw away line about Ketch being in London looking for the golden egg Lucifer/president extractor. Nice closing of a plot hole there Dabb.

I liked the Jesus weapon expert hunter dude. He seemed quirky. Dead man’s blood bullets are an excellent idea. 

DETROIT. Why does everything always happen in Detroit? I swear one day they are gonna reveal that Detroit is like a central universal power hub where the walls between the dimensions are thinnest or something. I could go on about this but I am sure a better meta writer elsewhere already has and this is waaay too long so I’m leaving this here.

If you got this far. Kudos and thank you for sticking around to read my thoughts. Feel free to ask me anything about any of the above. If I could hand out cookies through the internet I totally would right now.

Basically I enjoyed the episode. I have since re-watched it a dozen times and it is really the meta of it all that makes me love it. The story IS weak, and there ARE moments that are a bit odd, or infuriating depending on the way you look at it, but the heart of the episode was classic Dabb. All character driven and full of meaning. I am extremely well fed after this meta feast, perhaps even enough to get me through the horror show that will be Bucklemming’s 14x02. 

So long as Cas continues to look like a sexy beast I’m sure I’ll get through it.

I’ll just leave this here:

God he’s such a dom. :P

[gumnut-logic]

Gentle Rain (Part Twelve)

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve 

Author: Gumnut

8 – 9 Feb 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 3614

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, Gordon/Penelope, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline. Possible trigger warning for tall building fires.

Timeline: Six months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: For @scribbles97   It is amazing what a day off work can do :D We’re out of Christmas Eve and things are moving. Many thanks again to @scribbles97  for some extensive help on this. I hope you all enjoy it :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“You did what?!”

Em entered the comms room and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Virgil stood glaring at John, tension in every line of his body. Only the two of them were in the room, both looked tired, John worried and Virgil absolutely furious. She would never have thought the man could possibly be that angry, he seemed so calm and gentle.

“I sent Brains.”

“Why the hell did you do that?! Why wasn’t I called?”

John stepped forward. “Because you aren’t well. Even I can see the pain you are in. Right now, in fact.”

Virgil flared even more. “And that saved who how? Now I have to go out and save Brains!”

John looked uncomfortable.

The sun was barely over the horizon. Em was only half awake, hovering just outside the elevator where the two men couldn’t see her. She desperately needed to examine Virgil, he was clearly in pain, but she was hesitant to interrupt their argument. Perhaps she should wake Scott?

“We will discuss this later.” Virgil’s baritone had dropped to a threat. The man turned and strode across the room in her direction. She slipped further into the shadows, but he approached the wall beside the portraits. Turning around, he reached up and grabbed onto two light fixtures. She heard him mutter something about having to fly the tin can and then the wall ate him. A rumble of machinery echoed through the panelling.

She blinked.

“Doctor Harris?”

Okay, that made her jump and not a little guilty. John was looking in her direction, so she slipped out of hiding and ‘scooted into the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

John sighed. “You didn’t. Please excuse Virgil, he is not really approachable before his morning coffee.”

“Where is he going?”

Another sigh. “There was an incident in a Brazilian skyscraper early this morning. A fire. Thunderbird Two attended with Alan and Gordon along with Brains for engineering advice.” What? She’d slept through that? John must have read her expression. “The villa is well soundproofed for most of our launches. Only one really disturbs the main house enough to wake those deeply asleep.”

As if in demonstration, the glass doors onto the balcony clicked and began to close. John smiled just a little. “You might like to watch this.” He led her to the edge of the room where she could see the pool just beyond the balcony. Using her ‘scoot to her own advantage, she raised herself up higher for a better view.

The pool was moving, retracting into the house, a gaping hole left in its wake.

“There is only one thing Virgil hates more than early mornings.” Beneath her feet the building made an odd clunk sound as the pool fully retracted. “And that is piloting Thunderbird One.”

Something exploded beneath them. The whole house shook in its foundations and to her astonishment, the famed rocket plane of International Rescue burst forth from where the pool used to be, a blur of red, grey, blue and white alphabet tore vertically into the sky.

Her jaw was on the floor.

“That’s Scott’s Thunderbird?” She could barely hear the roar anymore, much less see the craft. It was gone.

“Yes, it is.” But it wasn’t John who answered.

She spun herself around to find a dishevelled Scott darting across the room. He had obviously dragged himself out of bed in a hurry. He was still in his pyjamas and his hair was skew-whiff. His broken leg wasn’t quite on the chair support properly. She headed towards him. “Hey.”

But his eyes were for John. “What is going on?” As he fell in beside her, his hand reached out and caught hers. She couldn’t help the tiniest of smiles. She had never had her hand held so much in her life. He seemed to have this urge to be continually connected to her.

She didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Thunderbird Two called for assistance in a skyscraper fire in Brazil. Apparently, the building partly collapsed, trapping Brains. Alan managed to jump clear. They need Virgil and his exo-suit.”

Em’s eyes widened. “You’re going to let him strap on that metal skeleton in his condition?!”

Two pairs of Tracy eyes pinned her. The hand in hers twitched and tightened. “What condition?”

Okay, she was a doctor and these things were obvious to her, but how could they not have seen the man grimace every time he moved? “Surely you can see the man is in pain.” One of the reasons she was up so early herself was so she could grab the second eldest Tracy before he ran off, but obviously she hadn’t been early enough.

“John, where have you sent him?!” Kayo was fury incarnate as she strode into the room, Grandma and Kip in her wake.

John stiffened. “I had no choice, Kayo. Brains is trapped. Who else could I send?”

That halted her pending tirade. Em watched fear flicker across her friend’s face before it was controlled. “Prep Thunderbird Shadow. I’m going out to assist.” She turned on her heel, strode over to the circular lounge and sat down in one of the paired chairs.

Yet another clunk of machinery and both Kayo and the chairs disappeared into the floor. Moments later an empty copy of the chairs replaced them.

Em blinked.

That was unexpected. She looked around the room at the other various pieces of furniture and wondered what else moved in ways unusual.

Scott’s hand was still in hers.

“Em, what is Virgil’s condition?” His voice was quiet, concerned, with just a touch of fear.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to examine him properly yet. It could just be scar pain, I think in any case that is a good part of it. What little I have seen tells me we need to work on some remedy for that, but...damn, I should have grabbed him last night.”

His hand squeezed hers. “He was given the option.”

She turned to him. “Yes, but I could have pushed the matter. He’s not the first reluctant patient I’ve come across. Though he may be one of the most important.”

Scott shot her a look. She could feel his eyes on her face, but she turned away. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, but it was said anyway. He could interpret it as he pleased.

Somewhere above them, more rocket engines fired and the island echoed a clunk of release. The ghost Thunderbird fell into view over the ocean, exhaust flaming, and tore off into the west.

“Good morning and Merry Christmas to you all.” Penny slipped elegantly into the room.

Em did her best not to glare at her.

Merry Christmas indeed.

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy hated flying Thunderbird One. She was as touchy as a flighty deer and responded to everything. Thunderbird Two made her presence known. She withstood the elements and made them do as she pleased. TB1 was slave to every air current, every downdraft, every touch of turbulence. It gave her the needed agility, the flexibility to spin in the air at speeds TB2 couldn’t dream of, but she was an ass to fly.

Scott was a hot shot pilot and he loved her responsiveness and equally derided TB2’s solidity and reliability.

But at least Thunderbird Two wouldn’t accidentally fly into a mountain if the pilot got distracted.

Virgil wasn’t really in the mood for wrestling with the Thunderbird. It made his side ache even more.

All she had to do was get him to Brazil, and Alan could fly her back.

Why didn’t John wake him? Brains was a brilliant engineer, but his onsite skillset was lacking, particularly for this kind of fire. And who the hell had let him off Thunderbird Two in first place?

Save first, kill brothers later.

The fire was obvious from miles off. Thick columns of smoke reached for the sky creating their own cloud cover.

Damn, it was a bad one.

On approach, he mentally ran through his plan of attack using the information his eyes and TB1 could give him. John had packaged everything they knew and sent it onto him mid-flight. There was some suspicious insulation used in the building. He flung up a hologram of the skyscraper’s structure.

Damn, when were they going to stop using that cross bar support design. It made the structure vulnerable to capsule collapse. particularly in hot fires. And this was a hot one.

Thunderbird Two was hovering near an exact example of why that design should never be used again, one section of the building had crumpled under the strain, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the structure, and, in turn, leaving the entire building prone to total collapse.

Goddamnit!

“Hey, Virg, thanks for dropping by.” Gordon’s flippancy was forced.

“I’m coming down. Slave TB1.”

The controls immediately shifted to the blue of auto.

A zip line, the open hatchway of his beloved ‘bird, the thump of his boots on her deck plates.

“Situation.”

Gordon was at her controls, the harmonics of her fire dampening systems resuming now he was aboard. Flame flickered and died. “Alan and Brains went in to rescue a trapped family. We got them out, but the whole section collapsed before Brains could get free. No space for a pod, we need your exo-suit.”

“FAB.” As expected, situation unchanged. He slipped through the cockpit access door, heading for the module. “Oh, and Thunderbird Shadow is on approach.”

He didn’t have time to react to that.

Slipping on the fire version of his exo-suit took a few moments longer than his regular setup. Was it logical to miss his baldric? The retardant suit fit him snug and the thick material actually provided a little support to his aching side.

He needed to get this job done as fast as possible. Then perhaps he should ask Em to look at him. It was getting worse.

Returning to the cockpit, he took up his place on the hatchway again. “Okay, Gordon, get as close as you can and lower me down.” He secured a line to the hatch as his brother lowered it. Winds, no doubt hot, buffeted at him.

He aimed the zip line and fired. Sensors confirmed a strong connection and he clipped in the d-ring of his harness. Moments of blur and he was surrounded by flame, smoke and general hell.

“Alan, give me your location.”

Data fed to his systems, complete with a tracker to follow. “Great to have you here, Virgil.” There was fear in his little brother’s voice.

“We’ll get him out.” His thermal readout screamed at him. “Fast.”

Virgil ran.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy was a highly experienced rescue operative. In his twenty-one years, he had saved hundreds of people. But he had his specialities, space rescue being one of them, as did all of his brothers.

Fire rescue was one he dreaded.

Perhaps it was because of that space speciality that drove it home. Fire in space was a horror. Fire on Earth, well, it wasn’t much better.

So, it was with no lack of relief that he looked up to see his second eldest brother, exo-suit geared up, emerge from the all-encompassing smoke.

“Detail.” Virgil’s tone was sharp and no nonsense.

“Brains is responsive, but unable to free himself just beyond this door.”

Virgil looked up, his eyes assessing the structure. “Gordon, give me a stress readout. Pin lines and supports on this floor.”

Numbers passed over the airwaves.

“Alan, step back.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

To Alan’s surprise, Virgil didn’t lift the fallen masonry. He simply went through the wall.

The bright red laser beam cut smoothly through concrete and steel alike. His massive primary claw finished the job.

“Alan, you’re on retrieval. Make it fast. This section is unstable.”

He darted into the room, his helmet lamp bouncing through the smoke. “Brains!”

“I’m h-here. My ankle.”

His light hit a shadowy figure on the floor. “We need to move.”

“RAD.”

Alan didn’t have time to roll his eyes. Reaching down, he lobbed the engineer into a half carry.

“Move it, Alan! It’s coming down!”

And the world rumbled. The half carry became a fireman’s carry as Alan threw Brains over his shoulders and ran.

Concrete dust. The groan of straining steel. His brother yelling at him to move. That claw came out of nowhere and deflected an airborne chunk of building. Virgil grunted over comms and then swore a blue streak.

“This way!” And there was a stairwell. Behind them the world crumbled. “Move!” The stairs were shaking.

Smoke and sudden flame. A gaping hole in the floor.

“Gordon, I need a zip line retrieval, 129th floor, east wall. Suppress what you can.”

“FAB.”

And there was a view to the outside. Virgil’s laser lit up red again, the reinforced glazing melting before their eyes. That claw and the smash of breaking glass.

The roar of VTOL, quickly followed by those familiar fire breaking harmonics and the green body of Thunderbird Two hovered into view.

“Stand back. Deploying zip line.”

As Alan moved, the whistle of a grapple through the opening in the glass, thunked into the concrete  floor. Virgil checked it was secure.

Their world rumbled in warning.

“You’re first, Brains. Alan, you follow.”

“FAB.”

He secured Brains to the line and quickly followed, prepared to stabilise the other man at the end to prevent further damage to his ankle.

It was wonderful to be free of the building.

As his feet hit the deck plating of TB2’s hatch, the zip line wobbled. “Virgil?”

“This section is going. Gordon, be ready to move!”

“Alan, hang on!” Gordon yelled into the comms.

And to his horror, the side of the building Virgil was standing in, collapsed like a landslide. Concrete, steel and burning insulation sliding down the side of the skyscraper in a terrifying roar of finality.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil!”

For a split second, Kayo’s heart froze, caught between beats and two futures. One desperate and filled with tears.

But then the zip line attached to Thunderbird Two ripped free of the tumbling rubble, a suited figure dangling from its end.

Oh god.

“Virgil! Speak to me.”

“Kay?” His voice was breathless. “Need a hand.”

He was swinging in the breeze, obviously tangled in the line. “Are you secure?” She was moving without an answer.

“Uh, define secure?”

Damn him.

Thunderbird Shadow spun on her axis and dove down beneath her sister and gently rose below her lover. “Gordon, keep her steady.”

“Kayo, I am so not moving.” There was fear in her brother’s voice.

The clatter of Virgil’s boots on Shadow’s fuselage shoved her heart into her throat.

“Thanks, Kay.” Still breathless. Scratches and movement. “Separated and secure. I’m in your hands.”

Did he have to sound so happy?

“Gordon, rendezvous here.” She sent him the coordinates of a local football field. The order left no room for discussion.

“FAB.”

Ever so slowly, ever so aware of her precious cargo, Kayo turned her bird towards the nearby sports arena.

-o-o-o-

Virgil took the moment of riding on the back of his lover’s ‘bird to attempt to lower his heart rate. That had been close. The floor collapsing beneath him, his mad scramble to connect with the zip line, concrete catching him on the back of his suit, spinning him around, a tangle of limbs, line and the plummet below.

The flashback of mountain scape and a thousand foot drop.

The world tumbling.

Kay’s voice.

His beautiful Kay.

Shadow shifted beneath him, her VTOL firing as she came in smoothly to land.  Gordon had both his ‘bird and TB1 following in. A rush of wind and International Rescue landed as one.

The cockpit in front of him was flung open immediately. He smiled as Kay leapt up and climbed over the back of her ‘bird towards him.

He struggled to his feet, hydraulics hissing. “I’m okay, Kay.”

She didn’t answer, her hands moving to his helmet release. The rush of fresh air tainted by smoke and her gloved hands on his jaw. Green eyes staring up at him, desperate for reassurance.

He slid his left arm from the suit and reaching up, slipped her helmet off, bent down and kissed her softly. “I’m fine. Thank you for the rescue.” His voice was a touch hoarse, his lungs still grabbing for air.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “You better be.”

“You okay, Virg?” Gordon appeared beside Shadow, worry etched into his features.

Slipping his arm back into the suit, he turned and unclipping his harness, leapt off Shadow and landed with a grunt beside his brother. Pain lanced up and down his side and he stumbled. For a moment, he couldn’t catch his breath, spots danced in his vision. God.

“Virgil?”

He gasped and blessed oxygen hit his system. Panting. “I’m good. I’m good.”

“You don’t look good.”

“Give me a minute.” His heart was doing its best to catch up, thudding madly in his chest. Okay, he definitely needed to speak to Em.

In the distance, the skyscraper continued to burn.

Forcing himself, he straightened up. “We need to finish this job.”

Gordon was staring at him, worry in his eyes. “You sure you’re up to this?”

He looked down at the aquanaut. “I have to be.”

His brother’s eyes didn’t agree, but he didn’t voice it.

Virgil jabbed his comms. “Alan, secure Brains if you haven’t already. You’ve got Thunderbird One. I’ll take Two.” He lifted up one arm and activated his holographic interface. A skeletal view of the building appeared. “Now the building is fully evacuated - good job with that by the way - we will use a combination of spike deployed firebots and suppressant grenades. TB2’s harmonics will take out any surface flares. Kay, you’re on spot to the east. Alan, you’re spot to the west. Gordon, you’re onsite spot when we start deployment. Kay, please advise the authorities to stand clear.”

“FAB.” Alan’s answer was sharp and precise. A moment later, his brother was running across the field to Thunderbird One.

As far as Virgil was concerned, he was welcome to it.

His suit hummed as he strode towards his own ‘bird.

A pair of hands caught his arm and he turned. Kay was frowning at him. “Virgil...” She obviously wanted to say something, but hesitated. A flash of movement and she was kissing him. “Fly safe.” She handed him his helmet.

“Love you.” The words were breathy and said without thought, simply emotion.

She smiled slightly, worry still in her eyes. The sooner this job was over the better.

He turned and headed towards his ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

The tactic worked as expected. Starting at the bottom, Thunderbird Two deployed her laser at specified intervals, piercing the building to its core, creating a method of entry for hundreds of small firebots. Preprogrammed to hunt for the source of fires, Brains’ little inventions took out the fire level by level. This was backed up by strategic deployment of the suppressant grenades and topical use of the harmonics to catch surface fires. Alan and Kayo spotted flares before they could take root and as the team rose higher and higher, the flame lessened. By the time International Rescue declared the fire defeated, the skyscraper was an unsalvageable wreck, but it wasn’t going to fall on anyone, and the fire was out.

Virgil recalled those bots that had survived and gave the order to head home.

Thank god.

Gordon was still eyeing him with worried eyes.

He didn’t blame him. Virgil couldn’t seem to get a good breath without hurting. Something wasn’t right. The moment he was able to set the course across the Pacific, he switched TB2 to auto and lay back, closing his eyes.

“Virg?”

“I’m okay, Gordon.”

“No, you’re not. You’re panting while sitting still.”

“I just need to take a breather.”

“Sick pun, bro.”

Virgil forced a smile. “You would know.” A deep breath and he tried not to grimace. “I’ll speak to Em when we get home.”

“Now I know something is wrong.”

“Quit worrying.”

“Quit scaring me.”

Virgil frowned and opened his eyes, turning to his brother. Those eyes, so similar to his own, were staring at him, and yes, there was fear. “Do I really look that bad?”

“I’m on the verge of locking you out of Two’s controls.”

Virgil glared at him. “Just try it, kid.”

“I will do what is necessary, big brother.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re as pale as a corpse.”

Virgil didn’t have an answer to that. “Fine, whatever. Take control. See if I care. I’ll go and check on Brains.” He pushed his seat back and forced himself to stand, clutching at the headrest when his world suddenly spun. Shit.

“Virgil!”

“I’m...I’m...” But suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Not enough oxygen. He couldn’t...He gasped desperate for air, but none came.

His legs gave out, hands caught him, lowering him gently to the deck. “Virgil, c’mon, man, don't do this.”

His hand flailed and caught uniform. He wanted to reassure his brother, but he couldn’t draw breath. He was gaping like a fish out of water. “I...c-“

“Virgil!”

But there was no oxygen and he was suffocating. Panic rose, he struggled, eyesight narrowing as his brain desperately tried to function on nothing.

“Goddamnit, Virgil! Don’t do this!”

He couldn’t stop it. There was nothing he could do. No matter what he did, his body shut down system by system, his lungs failing to do what they needed to do.

The last he saw was a pair of frightened brown eyes and a mouth yelling his name.

-o-o-o-

End Part Twelve.

Part Thirteen

[thisisthewayitis2021]

The snail's progress.

I'm sorry it has been so long. There are no dates on here I have noticed so I can't remember when I last posted. It has been over a week though.

So much fatigue last week. Trying to schedule anything is impossible.

It is August 16th 2021 today. Just a brief summary; last week I was out for the count Monday until Wednesday. Staring at the sky again, not even able to listen to the radio or watch tv on Monday. And I had had an optical migraine on Sunday night. I had tried to do some brain training on Sunday morning. I had downloaded some apps including Lumosity and Cognifit. 5 in all. I have now deleted all but Cognifit and will only do 3 x 10 minute sessions a week. Not do three ten minute sessions from multiple apps one after the other to try to build up my skills in a crash course. Such a stupid idea but I am so wanting to get better. It won't happen if I try and do that though. I just seize up so can't anyway. I am hoping Cognifit will help, in baby steps. At the moment I'm fine for the first 5 minutes then I fall apart and I can't do anything. My score was 158 out of 1000 the first time. It's pretty depressing but I will stick with it. It's interesting though as I can feel the different layers/areas of my brain that don't work. For instance I'm much better now again at listening to a story, can hear and understand. And I can express myself in writing again pretty easily which is brilliant. So happy about that . Much better than verbally. But reading about processes and following a story is more difficult. I can't remember a sequence of shapes if it is presented to me, for me to repeat a few seconds later. And lots of other processes which I can't remember to tell you! The app is so clever, being able to target specific areas. It was developed by neuro scientists, that's why I chose that one, rather than the others. I'm taking Gingko bilobo and CO Q10 too which are supposed to help. This morning it was about the same.

I spoke to a manager at work last week. My fit note runs out on the 24th, in a week's time but the fatigue and the lack of concentration and thinking processes mean that I won't be able to go back to work. I just can't do anything and I am not going to recover by next week. They are brilliant and have said that I must only go back when I am fully better. I do think the fatigue is a little better though. But that is because I am not taking my dog out now. I have walkers so am not exhausting myself so much and can potter about at home in short bursts.

I was excited that my son Leo was coming to visit on Friday. He was coming for the weekend, one night at mine and one at his dad's. With me all day Saturday, then his dad Mark came to pick us up on Sunday evening and and we went out for a meal, Mark, Dad's partner Melanie and Leo. Really lovely (we all get on well). Then he stayed the night at M&M's. Mark had picked me up on Sunday at midday. I went for lunch with them before Mark dropped Leo off at the train station and took me home. I was really flagging by then, was conscious of my eyes wanting to close at lunch. I was in bed by 8.30 but it was so worth it. I'd been really conscious of resting and sleeping between activities. And so far today I've been ok. Well, I slept for two hours during the morning but that's normal. No extra effects I mean so that's great.

Back to being on my own all week and trying to keep positive. It's so dull and I can feel very lonely. I am missing some of my friends. I can completely appreciate that some are very bound up in their busy lives and their own relationships. I have some brilliant friends who ring me up and pop round, and I meet one every Friday in a pub garden for a bit (or inside now as it is cooler). Some have drifted though. I feel sad about that. I need people at the moment and to feel that they care. It must be really hard if you have long covid and are in a house full of other people though. I couldn't cope with that. I know I'm not great company and I can only manage about 1 1/2 hours max of conversation. Just being with someone is lovely for a short time though, I don't need to talk. it just so helps with my mood and that contact is so essential. I do have lovely proactive friends who are very caring though and I know that some people just aren't that proactive and haven't got the capacity emotionally. Perhaps people just don't want to be around someone whose dad died recently and is not well. I have still got my sense of humour though and am outward looking at the world, and care about them. I think I'm pretty good company still actually lol. But it's ok. Anyway. I mustn't let it get me down.

Life will be back to normal one day. I don't cope with crowds well... too much sensory stimulation. But I need to try every now and again or I will have such trouble with getting back to normal. I want to go to busy pubs and gigs and go to town at a weekend. On Saturday we went to town to a restaurant and I had to hold Leo's hand walking from the carpark to the restaurant as there were so many people and it was making me so anxious. A crazy Saturday night. It was only 6 pm but the pubs and bars were full and it was like a massive hen party in town! I had been on my own with my dad during lockdown in a rural setting, and once back home after he passed away, on my own. Not being able to go out or to work because of the long covid...or even into town on a quiet afternoon as I have been too exhausted to get there.... well it hasn't helped. I like my own company.. need it really, at least half the time. I have always said that I couldn't be in a 24/7 relationship where you are together all the time as I am very independent. But it doesn't mean being on my own so much is what I want.

But hey, I'm very resilient and practise mindfulness and go outside when I feel low. The fatigue is so restrictive though. And my crazy spaniel makes me laugh. Anyway, that's enough for today. A bit of a kip then I will watch another episode of Beck. I find a drama and get into the story. I need to try and book another eye test. The seventh as I keep cancelling. Melanie has said she will take me as I can't go on my own. It's just too much to try and do. Crazy. I have got the large print Jack Reacher that my son bought my dad for Christmas. So will try that.

[theonetheycallsagey]

Home Invasion

Wow, this one was really fun to write. Action turned up to 11 created a grittier and more intense story. This takes place after the fall of Beacon, where we catch up with one Dash Ospreay as he finds a familiar face in the least likely of places.

Dash belongs to me.

Sienna belongs to @gruntnuker-rwby​

"Ospreay Industries: Celebrating 25 Years of Being #1" 

"Hm. That's what they came up with?" Dash muttered to himself. He stood on the upper balcony, a staircase spiraling to the ground floor on each side. He watched as everyone was filing into the ballroom, exchanging small greetings while waiting for the party to really begin - or at least whatever Atlas qualified as a party. It had only been a couple years, but Dash couldn't help but feel so far removed from this world of clinking martini glasses and fancy suits, such as the one he was clad in now. However, being the heir to one of the biggest corporations in all of Remnant, Dash knew that it almost virtually guaranteed that he would have to show up to its anniversary celebration. 

The next hour consisted of Dash standing by his father's side as he was introduced to several business associates and Atlesian upper class members, none of which were memorable enough for him to recall. He tried to feign interest but it was clear he was not engaged at all. Any attempts of conversation he tried to make were only met with "Why did you leave Atlas for Beacon?" or "You should've kept playing ball" or "You should be starting to run the company". Even when Mr. Schnee himself came to visit his Ospreay Industries partners, Dash couldn't be bothered to listen. He only noticed Weiss mirroring his expression of boredom, shackled to her father just as he was to his. 

To his relief, Dash was eventually set free. He retreated to a corner by himself and spent most of his time staring at gold watch on his wrist, hoping it would tick faster. When he looked up, his eyes glanced toward catering tables. Sat there was his little sister Dawn, clad in a fluttery red gown and her hair let down. She didn't notice her brother approach her, as she was too focused on working in her sketchbook. 

"Do Mom and Dad know you have that with you?" Dash said sternly, arms folded. Dawn's head snapped upwards to face him, and she timidly pulled the book to her chest. Dash shook his head and broke his mock coldness with a chuckle. He lightly messed with Dawn's hair, getting her to let out a childlike giggle. 

"Hey! Quit it!" she said. When she lowered the book to continue where she left off, Dash peered over his shoulder. 

"Whatcha working on?" he asked Dawn. He saw a sketch of a building, one that looked amazing given her age. However, the building looked all too familiar, and when Dawn pointed to a mural on the wall, Dash figured out why. It was a painting of Beacon Academy, one he had seen before at Weiss' concert. 

Gravitated to it, Dash approached the picture and studied it for a few moments. All the memories came back in a vivid rush. Sapphire constantly keeping the team up at night with talk of pillow fights. Bickering with Solomon over car culture. Making bets with Auburn with absurd stipulations. Meeting different teams from all schools for the tournament. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes before a deep breath recomposed him. This was definitely the last place he could have his public persona crack, something that he took great effort in maintaining. 

"I hope they're all ok," he thought to himself. He turned back around and leaned against the wall next to the painting, and moving his sport coat sleeve out of the way, he checked his watch again. "Almost done." Blankly staring forward, Dash sighed as he expected his boredom to resume throughout the night. That was, until a female voice loudly called out from the balcony above him, one that he couldn't see the source of but instantly recognized. 

"Tone Ospreay." 

Everyone's discussions were quickly stopped and replaced by hushed murmurs of confusion. Their attention was drawn to above Dash to someone on the balcony. He sprinted out from under it and his eyes widened in shock at seeing Sienna Umberon. However, she looked far removed from her days at Beacon where her team and Dash's would regularly hang out. Now, her usual outfit was traded for a White Fang uniform, and her heterochromatic eyes hidden behind a personalized mask. 

"Faunus labor, child labor, frequent factory explosions, the list goes on. Quite the rap sheet. One that could almost rival your master's," Sienna said. 

"What is the meaning of this?! I don't care how you got in but I'll have every force in Atlas come to throw you out!" Dash could hear his father yell back, while he was still too stunned to react. 

"Oooooh Schnee's lapdog thinks he's got a bite," Sienna said with a chuckle. "Don't bother with that. You're gonna listen to what I have to say." Dash snapped his head back around to see his father still adamantly stubborn. A sudden shatter of glass pierced the scene and made way for the sound of something metal clanging across the ground. Dash surveyed the middle of the ballroom floor and caught glimpse of a cylindrical object rolling to a stop. "Stun grenade!"

"Whether you want to or not." 

A bright flash. A deafening bang. It was enough in itself to cause Dash to stagger back. But something else - or someone - had also thrown him off his feet. By the time his senses had returned to him, he had realized a deer faunus with short brown hair and a similar mask was on his back, keeping his head forced to the floor. From what he could see, a whole White Fang squadron had invaded the party, all armed to the teeth. Each one of his family members was held back by a Fang member, and Dash could feel anger swell up at seeing a muscular soldier with ram horns with his arms around Dawn. Sienna sauntered down the stairs and headed towards Tone. 

"Thousands of faunus go into your factories with the hope of making enough to feed their families. They desperately try to survive through godawful working conditions just to get paid like dirt. And if they actually manage to stay alive, there's a good chance they'll get laid off anyways." She was now in Tone's face, with the White Fang soldier behind him forcing the owner of Ospreay Industries to look up at her. 

"I've seen firsthand just how flashy your family is," she continued, side-eyeing Dash with that comment. "And the fact that you act so flashy without even a hint of guilt is a fucking kick in the teeth to faunus everywhere." Her speech was now through gritted teeth, years of anger and frustration finally culminating. Stepping back to scan the area, she saw everyone paralyzed with fear, unable to do anything against the surrounding fleet of troops. 

"You're all guilty here!" Sienna said to address the whole room now. "You've all helped create this Atlas empire that has made it a crime for a faunus to even exist! No money for bills. No way to raise a family. No escape." She clenched her fists and turned her back to everyone. 

"Well, Ospreay. If I'm not allowed to have a family, you're not either. Tear this place to the ground!" 

The girl on Dash's back yanked his head up by his hair, forcing him to watch as the White Fang squad began dismantling the party. They vandalized anything in sight, and would not stop until everything the Ospreay family owned in this household was ruined. Dash watched as Sienna made her exit through the two grand doors that led to the rest of the house. The ram faunus followed suit, still with a tight grip on Dawn, taking her with him despite her cries for help. 

"Dawn!" Dash yelled. The deer faunus jerked him up to his feet and slammed him into the wall, keeping him firmly pressed against it. 

"Not prepared for this one, were you Richie Rich?" she said in Dash's ear. 

"I'm always prepared," Dash replied. Without a moment's hesitation, he moved his leg free and kicked his captor in the back of the knee. She groaned and reeled back, loosening her grip on Dash enough for him to spin around and catch her in the temple with a jumping knee strike that knocked her out on impact. All of the other soldiers turned their attention to him, and he quickly ran toward the direction that Sienna left in. He slammed the doors to the ballroom shut behind him, then toppled over the shelf next to it to serve as a barricade. 

He sprinted through the Ospreay estate as fast as his dress shoes would allow him, following the trail of carnage Sienna was causing. Along the way, he ditched his sport coat and his tie. He only had one thing in mind: getting his sister safe. And he knew he would have to fight for it. He eventually made his way to the garage, where he saw Sienna and the ram destroying the red sports car parked in it. 

"I knew you were a wasteland punk, Umberon. But I didn't think you'd stoop this low," Dash said to reveal himself. Sienna's fox ears twitched at the sound of his voice. Dawn smiled brightly at the sight of her big brother, but the smile was abruptly cut off at the sound of Sienna laughing. 

"Y'know. I really should thank you. The way you treated people was one of the main reasons I decided to join the Fang. I can finally repay you for all the disrespect you've shown me," Sienna said, all the while approaching Dash slowly until they were face to face. 

"I'm honored," Dash coldly said back and barely finished that statement before aiming a right kick to her head. Sienna immediately caught his foot and whipped him into a dragon screw takedown. Dash landed hard on his back, temporarily winded, allowing Sienna to put her boot on his chest. 

"The Fang has made me stronger, Dash. Faster, too. Better than training at Beacon had ever made me," she said before driving her heel down on his sternum. 

"You think I've been slouching around?" Dash roughly said back before he suddenly swiped at Sienna's other foot, tripping her up enough to kip back up to his feet. He went for another kick, this one similar to the first but coming from his left foot this time. Sienna caught him again, but this time Dash followed up by leaping up and driving his right foot into her ribs in a modified dropkick. Now she was the one flat on her back. 

The ram faunus charged at Dash, and Sienna moved back to grab Dawn and tie her down before she could escape. Dash sidestepped him and stayed close, firing off a flurry of kicks. But, they had little effect on the monstrous soldier, as his physique dwarfed Dash's athletic 5'10 frame. The ram picked Dash up with ease and slammed him onto the hood of the car with enough force to crumple the hood and break the windshield. He rolled off of the car to avoid another incoming blow, then before the brute could get to him again, he swung open the passenger side door, hitting him and keeping him back momentarily. 

"C'mon big bro! You can do it!" Dawn said to cheer on her brother. But, the ram faunus closed in on him again and lifted him by the collar of his now disheveled dress shirt. He threw Dash into the electrical box on the wall, denting its cover. It creaked open, so the ram repeated the process, this time sending Dash into breakers underneath, causing sparks to fly. The ram smirked at his handiwork until he noticed that Dash was unfazed. What he didn't know was that Dash's semblance was kicking in - conductivity. 

He lurched forward again, and Dash responded by grabbing him by the throat. All of the voltage that was going through Dash's body was suddenly going into his as if Dash was a human lightning rod. Upon letting go, the ram staggered back, gasping for air. While he was struggling to regain his breath, Dash nailed him with a kick to the midsection, finally dropping the behemoth to one knee. He then stepped back, jumped above him, and drove his head into the ground with a vicious curb stomp. 

With the goon now rendered unconscious, Dash turned his focus to Sienna. She looked up at him, looking less than pleased, flicking her fire dust infused claws to make a spark. The spark ignited and she got into a ready stance with her claws now ablaze, putting her own semblance of fire manipulation to use. Bolting to her, Dash aimed a baseball slide to her ankles. Sienna telegraphed his move and jumped over it. Dash rolled back to his feet and ducked his head to miss a right hook from Sienna, then a left. 

He rolled under the next punch to get behind her, but Sienna was a step ahead and turned around quicker than Dash could react. She wrapped him up in a bear hug, the fiery gloves searing his chest. Dash screamed loudly, the agony in his voice too much for Dawn to handle as she cringed and tried to look away. He eventually mustered up the strength to flip Sienna over his shoulders and get her off, but the damage had already been done. Dropping to one knee, he glanced down at his singed chest through the remnants of his burned shirt. A red sheen glowed across the length of his body. His aura was depleted. 

He weakly got back to his feet as Sienna walked toward him again, looking to end the fight. But, with a roaring battle cry and a last burst of adrenaline, he charged his assailant again. He hit her with a series of punches and kicks, each one doing more visible damage than the last. Finishing the combo off with a heel kick to her chin, he was finally able to ground Sienna. But, he wasn't able to revel in the moment for long, because a sharp cry of "Dash help!" from his sister swiftly spun him around. Two White Fang marked aircrafts had landed in the front yard, one of which had unloaded two soldiers that were taking Dawn away.

"Dawn, no!" He took half a step forward then suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened before looking down. Shakily moving his hand to his stomach, he could barely fight the tremors to see his hand now holding a crimson pool. 

It hurt to stand. 

It hurt to breathe. 

He collapsed to the floor. He still couldn't process what was happening. The adrenaline was long gone at this point. His usually electric yellow eyes expressed anguish as they looked up to see Sienna looking at her blood stained claw. Dawn's pleas filled the air one last time before being silenced by the distinct sound of a jet taking off. The ram faunus had now regained consciousness and joined his squad leader. 

"What do we do with him, boss?" he asked Sienna. 

"What's our one rule?" she said in response. 

"No deaths." 

"Then he comes with us. And he does not die. I’m not finished with him," she said. The last thing Dash saw was the ram leaning down next to him before everything faded to black.

[tenscupcake]

electrostatic potential (34/?)

ten/rose. teen this ch. this chapter was definitely an exercise in pushing my creative boundaries. a style i’ve never tried to tackle before, and it’s a short chapter on top of that (concision is something EVERYONE already knows i suck at). i like the way it turned out though, as did my beta :D so i hope you guys do too. summary: as the doctor and rose traverse time and space looking for adventure, they slowly fall victim to a mysterious energy that can manipulate their emotions. though confused and unnerved by the cerebral affliction, neither of them understands its cause, or realizes that it could jeopardize their friendship. what will it take for them to discover the truth? this chapter on ao3 | back to chapter 1 on ao3

There’s a phenomenon that exists in many species across the universe – ones with cardiovascular systems, at any rate. A temporary enlargement and reduction of function of the heart muscle in response to a severe stress, especially a death or breakup. Untreated, it can result in fatal arrhythmia or heart failure. Its symptoms are similar to those of a myocardial infarction: acute chest pain and shortness of breath.

Some medical professionals designate it takotsubo cardiomyopathy. But, species and language barriers notwithstanding, it’s known colloquially across much of the universe as broken heart syndrome.

“We haven't got time to argue. The plan works. We're going. You too. All of us.”

“No, I’m not leavin’ him!”

There’s no evidence the condition occurs in Gallifreyans.

But as the Doctor turns his back on the stark white wall and faces an empty room, he wonders if all his time spent around humans hasn’t begun to affect his biology. His chest is swollen yet empty and aching, and the only time he can breathe is when the erratic, pounding palpitations of his hearts knock the wind out of him and he gasps for air.

“He does it alone, Mum. But not anymore. ‘Cause now he's got me.”

Why did he do it? Why did he sling the device around Rose’s neck?

He would never. He should never.

His legs, barely functional pegs, slowly carry him out of the room where the rift was created. Broken. Numb. He nearly makes it to the stairwell but falls to his knees before he can reach the door. He buckles over at the waist, barely catching himself with his hands before his head hits the ground. The cold, hard floor is a welcome, if miniscule, reprieve from the agony in his chest.

“I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never gonna leave you.”

He squeezes his eyes closed, wishing tears would fall. Wishing he could scream. Wishing something would happen to disrupt the deafening silence. The intense emptiness of this room. This entire building. Its previous employees either evacuated or dead.

He knew. He knew she’d never leave. He promised he’d never leave her either.

Why did he do it?

But she came back. The storm had nearly passed.

Nearly.

“Hold on!!!”

Haunted by the memory of his own guttural scream, he finds his voice.

“NO!” he shouts at no one except the walls and the corpses scattered through the building. Smashes clenched fists on the linoleum.

They had come so close.

And they had hardly two weeks connected. Hardly one actually believing they might be able to live out their days together.

More and more seconds pass without Rose’s mental presence close enough to feel, and his mind begins to throb with the realization she’s gone. It worsens until it overrides the pain in his chest, the edges of his mind a raw wound that no salve will treat. And yet, futilely, the abandoned tendrils of his mind search for her. They’ll never stop searching for her.

He was right not to trust. To flee from a possibility of a connection like theirs. He saw this coming. He knew how much it would crush him, but he did it anyway. He’s a fool.

And for his stupidity, Rose will live out her millennia of life in a different dimension, with no one to spend it with. Her very immortality a constant reminder of what she’s lost. He’s thrust the very curse upon her that he can hardly bear the burden of himself.

He can’t let her suffer like this.

He can’t.

He has to find a way to her. He’d rip apart two universes to find a way.

A burst of adrenaline wrenches his eyes open. A second gets him to his feet, supporting himself against a wall.

As he takes in his immediate surroundings, trying to re-orient himself so he can find the TARDIS, the stark surfaces of the white box he’s trapped in begin to warp. The walls bend and buckle. A haze drifts over everything, until it’s suddenly too treacherous to take a single step.

He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his fingers over them, giving himself a moment to try to breathe. Kick in his respiratory bypass to assist. This must be merely a symptom of his situation, his brain’s sensory processing ability taking a temporary hit from hypoxia or shock. Maybe both.

But when he opens them again, the entire interior of the cursed building flickers in and out of existence around him. Milliseconds of utter blackness interrupt his shaky perception of the world – like a live video feed cutting out.

Somewhere, Rose is screaming his name.

He screams back, only it’s not her name but a garbled cry of pain, because his head is suddenly pounding like it’s about to explode. Clutching the sides of his head, he crumples to the floor again, and this time he’s unable to break the fall with his hands.

---

He’s tried everything he can think of.

Went back in time to Canary Wharf, risked it all to try to slip through the crack between the universes while it was still open. But the TARDIS wouldn’t allow the risk of crossing his own timeline. He shouted himself hoarse and tried to override her safety precautions but she wouldn’t budge. She wouldn’t let him kill himself trying to get her back.

Normally he’s grateful for her protection, but right now the alternative still seems preferable. He did have that deal with himself, didn’t he?

He tore apart the console trying to recreate the accident that brought them to Pete’s World in the first place. It was an even worse failure that led the TARDIS to confiscate his flying privileges entirely. He was marooned inside the ship, no outlet for his grief for what felt like years.

He’s searching for other gaps between universes now, any crack that might be large enough to squeeze through. It doesn’t even matter if it’s a one-way trip or not. Setting the randomizer over and over, he searches every new destination for signs of the Void seeping through. But with and all of time and space at the TARDIS’s disposal, her search radius a mere pinpoint in comparison, it could take ten billion stops before he found one.

It’s hopeless.

His mind cries out for her, its edges aching, still raw. Frayed. Like the stub of a severed limb.

The monitor still doesn’t have any positive readings.

He crushes the pen in his hand, not caring when the ink bleeds onto the keyboard beneath it. He’s about to punch the glass screen, desperate to feel something besides the hollow ache in his chest.

But he suddenly feels… strange. Without warning, a different emotion rapidly displaces his grief and hopelessness: a potent sense of amnesia.

How many times has he done this? How many loci of this universe has he already checked? Two? Two thousand? He can’t remember any of them. But their current voyage doesn’t feel like their first one, either. Mingled with the amnesia is déjà vu, a nagging sense he’s done this before. He’s exhausted like he’s been at it for months without sleep, maybe even years.

He rubs a hand down his cheek, finding it rough with stubble. Looking down at his suit, he finds it stained with grease, dirt, and blood. His own? How long has it been since he washed it?

As he looks around, suddenly nothing he sees feels real. The console, the floor beneath his heavy feet, none of it.

Why are there such large gaps in his memory? Was he dosed with something? He doesn’t feel right.

He must need sleep. He’s been fighting so hard to get back to Rose, he’s been neglecting himself. Severely.

That’s all it is. A kip is all he needs.

Suddenly too exhausted to make the trek to his own bed, he drops to the console floor and is unconscious before he can second guess himself.

---

The Doctor carefully pilots the TARDIS around the dying, blazing star, getting the ship into just the right orbit to absorb its power without her shields being depleted by the intense radiation.

The gap he eventually found isn’t large enough to fit through.

Only just enough to send simple communication.

When it’s finally in the right spot, he steps away from the monitor. It’ll take a few minutes to draw enough power to send the projection, and the Doctor needs to freshen up. He’s still determined to find a way through properly, but he’d be an idiot not to consider the possibility this is the last time she’ll ever see him. He doesn’t want to look pathetic and unkempt as he says what might be his final goodbye.

He mechanically changes his suit and shaves his face, styles his hair though he hasn’t in he can’t remember how long. The way she likes it.

They didn’t get to say goodbye.

It’s the very least she deserves.

It will destroy them both, to be able to see one another but not touch. To be tempted with one another’s image even as the pervasive emptiness in their minds persists.

But it’s better than nothing. He repeats that to himself as he drags his feet back to the console.

But when he re-enters the console, his head is suddenly killing him again. He pushes his fists into his forehead, clenching his eyes shut and gasping through his teeth to try to will the pain away.

It does begin to fade after a few moments of steady breathing, and he takes one last deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to do.

But when he opens his eyes, the TARDIS’s interior has been completely transformed. A console still looms in the centre, the time rotor still breathes heavily as it churns up and down. But a purplish glow has replaced the green hue he’s accustomed to. The control panels have sharp edges, the organic corals supplanted by polygonal pillars. Unfamiliar Gallifreyan inscriptions line the walls and moving parts overhead, and the room is far bigger: multiple tiers of pathways extending in three dimensions beyond the grating of the console.

Dimly, as though a projection itself, a young redhead traipses around on a level of grating above him, and he can just faintly hear a Scottish accent...

And with a blink, it’s all gone. The stranger, the headache, the foreign TARDIS. It’s all back to normal.

He shakes his head, blinking hard a few more times. But the console room is now just as he left it: small and green and old-fashioned.

But… how… wait...

How did he get here?

The last thing he remembers is falling asleep on the grating. When he came to, he had already found this supernova. What did he do in between?

He shakes his head, dispelling the nonsensical train of thought.

It’s the anxiety. It has to be. Messing with his brain. Temporarily distorting his memories. But he can’t back out now. This might be his only chance to say goodbye to her.

---

“How long have we got?”

“About two minutes.”

---

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

“You can’t.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Oh, I've got the Tardis. Same old life, last of the Time Lords.”

“On your own?”

He nods.

“I…”

A sob chokes off whatever she’s about to say, and she buckles over at the waist, trying to contain it.

Two minutes.

They’re running out of time.

When Rose rights herself, meeting his gaze again, her cheeks are still wet with tears, but they’re no longer falling. Terror and desperation have replaced the sorrow on her face.

“Doctor!” she shouts, far too loudly for being right in front of him. It’s frantic and impatient, as though it’s not her first time shouting his name, like she’s been shouting it for ages and he hasn’t heard her. The tangible shift in her emotional state makes this feel so much more real. Her presence here with him is an illusion – she’s not really inside the TARDIS – but it suddenly feels like she is. She feels closer to him than she has for months. His mind agrees she may be within reach, reaching out and calling her more strongly than it ever has.

Which is foolish and naïve. It must be merely his instinct to protect her kicking in, a strong emotional response to her evident distress affecting his judgment.

“Rose? What’s wrong?”

“You need to regenerate!” She’s still shouting just as forcefully.

He looks around, searching within the TARDIS for whatever danger she’s detected, but finds none.

“Rose, what are you on about?” Panic bubbles up inside him. This isn’t how he wants their last conversation to be. “I’m fine.”

“Doctor, whatever this is you’re experiencing in here, it’s not real.”

In here?

He’d rather they could touch one another, too, but this projection was the best he could do. He’ll keep trying the rest of his life, but there’s a good chance this is their last chance to speak. As far as Rose knows, it is. He doesn’t want to waste their final seconds together arguing about what’s real.

“Rose, I know I’m not here properly. Not physically, but… I had to say goodbye.” He pleads with her to understand with his mind, though he knows she can’t feel it. Her mind is still too far away, notwithstanding this visual fabrication that’s projecting her image inside the TARDIS.

“No, Doctor! Don’t say goodbye!” She lunges forward and grabs onto the lapels of his suit, the strong clutches of her fists successfully capturing the fabric, and his eyes bulge out of his skull. He stares down at her hands, the dark blue fabric of her jumper pressing into his chest, the arms attached to them suddenly quite real.

“Rose,” he gasps out, breathing heavily. “How are you doing this?” He reaches his arm up, touching her shoulder and finding it quite solid. His throat closes up with panic. Has sending this projection torn the fabric of reality? Jeopardized the stability of this universe? Hers? Both? As much as he wants to touch her in return, he knows something has gone horribly wrong.

“Look, you’re hurt.” Rose moves her hands up to his cheeks, tilting up his head, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Frantic as they are determined. “You’re hurt really bad. You hit your head. You need to regenerate.”   

“What’re you…” he tries to speak, but a potent spike of pain in his head prevents him from finishing the sentence. “Agh!” Clutching his head, he sinks to his knees, but rather than the hard grating, there’s nothing but sand beneath his knees. He glances around, only to find the console, the coral struts of the TARDIS, the ramps and the adjacent hallway are fading out of view. In just a few seconds, his ship has disintegrated completely. There’s only Rose, the ocean, the cold wind and sand and scattered rocks surrounding them.

“Rose, what’s happening?” he grits out through his teeth. The world tilts on its axis as the relentless pain brings nausea and disorientation. 

“Doctor, you need to stay with me.” She kneels down with him, fighting desperately for his full attention. But he can’t give it; the pain is already excruciating. “Can you feel the regeneration energy?”

“No!” he spits out, too miserable for politeness.

Amidst the agony is a profound confusion. How did he get here? Why does his head feel like it’s been cracked open?

But he has to say goodbye.

Two minutes.

He’s running out of time.

A powerful wave of dizziness crashes over him as he looks up at her, making the entire world spin around Rose until she goes completely out of focus.

“Rose, we don’ ‘ave much time. Just… needt’ tell you…” The words are slurred. Like he’s drugged, about to lose consciousness.

“Doctor! Listen! We’re not on this beach, okay? We’re at Canary Wharf. You’re about to leave me forever. You’ve got to trust me. I can feel it. The fire in your veins. You need to surrender to it.”

He stops trying to fight against what she’s saying. If this will be the last time he sees her anyway, he might as well indulge what she wants.

But how can he regenerate if he’s not dying?

Maybe he is dying. He’d be better off dead than living without Rose, anyway. Either way, regenerating sooner just means his miserably lonely life will be over sooner once she disappears.

He searches inward for the familiar flames of change, and to his surprise, he can just detect it down in his toes.

Is he dying?

Now that he can feel the fire in his veins, it quickly consumes him. Spreads through his body, burning every cell it touches from the inside as he yells against the wind in protest. The relentless migraine in his head worsens as the fire reaches his head, spreading and swelling with unbearable pressure until his head feels fit to burst. An overinflated balloon about to violently pop, its shrivelled latex remnants raining to the ground.

The agony at least brings a burst of adrenaline that hauls him to his feet, still holding his head. At this point he’s worried if he lets go his skull will fall apart, but he pulls one hand away from his head, needing to see the evidence for himself. He watches as the golden glow emanates from his hand, trickling down to his fingers. Brighter by the second.

He doesn’t want to regenerate. He wants to stay in this body. This is the man Rose fell in love with.

But if she’s gone, what’s the point? If he can’t get her back… oh, he’d do anything to get her back... but it’s too late. The crescendo of energy is moments from reaching its peak. The overwhelming heat is melting his organs, the poorly contained energy tearing his cells apart one by one as it searches desperately for an outlet.

He gasps for air, desperate for the pain to be over. Maybe Rose will still be here when he comes out the other side...

Rose.

“Get back!” He barely gets the words out before he explodes.

Rose.

She’s his only conscious thought as his body combusts to a whirlwind of plasma and ashes around him.

[jbharrisauthor]

Episode 1 - Timing is Anything - Chapter Three

Read Chapter One here

Read Chapter Two here

Who would have thought sorting through a bunch of images would be so relaxing and fun? They’d been at it for over an hour and barely made a dent in the assortment of archived Torchwood security footage. At some point they’d sat down and started arranging the pictures in order along the bottom of the wall.

Actually, The Doctor couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this mellow. Like she could just lay back and let the images fall on her like confetti. Why did that sound so strange? But also hilarious.

She laughed to herself, gaining Ianto’s attention. He sent her a lazy smile as he plucked down another image.

“What’s so funny?”

“I can’t remember.” She leaned closer to him. “You know, your eyes really are so blue. What on Earth is wrong with them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re my eyes.”

“Maybe it’s my eyes. Is there something wrong with my eyes?” She went to lean in again, but almost lost her balance.

He caught her with a short laugh. “Whoa, how’s your sea legs?”

“Unsteady, it seems. Except I’m not standing on them. My legs I mean.” Her head spun as he pushed her upright and she tried to get her equilibrium back. “Of course!”

“What is it?”

“The incense.” She waved her hand around to indicated the air, almost swiping his nose off. “We forgot about the incense. I think I’m high.”

He frowned as though he was concentrating very, very hard. His blue eyes were a little unfocused. “I’m not sure if I’m high. I’ve never been high before. What does it feel like?”

“It feels like this.” She poked him in the chest and he looked down at her finger.

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“I mean, you’re high too. So whatever you feel like is what being high feels like.” She replayed the words in her head. She thought they made sense, but maybe they didn’t.

“Can you not talk in riddles right now? If I get confused, I think it’ll make me dizzy.”

He leaned into the wall and closed his eyes like he was all ready to take a kip. Well, that wasn’t productive in the least. They needed to get out of here and clear their heads.

“Come on, Mr. Jones. I think it’s time we went and found ourselves something to eat.”

He opened his eyes as she tugged his arm.

“But the pictures—”

“They’re not going anywhere.”

Together, they got to their feet, though neither of them were very steady. They leaned on one another as they walked out of the room, laughing as they weaved. In the corridor, they had to stop to avoid running into other people milling around. However, as she tried to side-step around someone, she completely misjudged and bumped into them.

“I’m so very sorry,” she exclaimed as Ianto pulled her back again.

“No harm done,” the young man replied. He had a girl hanging off his arm, a little like she was holding onto Ianto. “I don’t think we’ve seen you here before.”

“No, we’re just looking—” Ianto started.

“New!” She declared before he could do something completely unhelpful like tell them the truth. “We’re new. Nice to meet you.”

She held out a hand, which the couple took turns shaking.

“I’m John—I mean Jane Smith. That’s John.”

She pointed at Ianto who appeared to be having trouble keeping a straight face as he nodded.

“Your boyfriend is cute,” the girl said to her in a conspiratorial-sort-of tone, though she hadn’t lowered her voice enough to keep Ianto from hearing her.

“We’re not together,” Ianto announced in a too-serious manner. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Who isn’t here,” she pinched him, trying to send him a look so he’d go along with her. The incense must have been interfering with his usual investigation-incognito skills. Otherwise, what had Jack been teaching him at Torchwood all this time?

“Ow, why are you pinching me?” He tugged his arm from hers and rubbed the sore spot with a frown.

“It was just your imagination.” She patted him on the shoulder as the couple glanced between them, beginning to look suspicious. Time for some redirection. “So, what else do you do around here, besides the incense.”

“Well, you know,” the girl said.

“No, we really don’t,” she replied. “We’re new, remember? So how about you tell us.”

“The infinite unification ceremony.”

“The infinite unification ceremony. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” She looked at Ianto, who only shrugged. So helpful.

“Tonight, Pippin and Zalia will be joining those unified in infinity before them,” the young man said, still with a hint of suspicion in his features.

“And what might we need to do so we can come along?” she asked, sending the girl a friendly smile since she was being far more receptive.

“Anyone can come. It’ll be happening here at sun down.”

“You look familiar,” the young man suddenly said, attention fixed on Ianto. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”

“He just has one of those faces.” She reached up to tug his bowler hat a little lower and then took him arm. “We have to go, but we’ll see you tonight.”

Before they could reply—or the young man could work out Ianto was the same Ianto plastered all over the walls, she hustled him away, leading him out of the temple to the street.

“What just happened?” He took the hat off, running a hand through his hair.

“We just got a chance to find out some more information about who these people are and what they’re doing.”

“No, I think we just got invited to someone’s wedding.”

“Well, either way, we can talk to people and see if they can tell us anything we don’t already know. Are you hungry? I’m famished.”

“Actually, I would sell my soul for a strong cup of tea.”

She grinned at him. “How very British of you.”

“Welsh. I’m Welsh, remember?” By the amount of insult in his tone, anyone would have thought she’d questioned his integrity.

“Because there’s so much difference between the two.”

“I’ll have you know—”

“Oh, look, food!” She detoured him over to a street cart selling something delicious-smelling. Turned out to be a kind of marinated meat wrapped in a sort of crispy thin bread. They got a serving each, and then went back to the TARDIS.

After eating, she showed him where he could make a cup of tea, smiling since it looked like he was ready to get down on his knees in gratitude. She left him to it and returned to the main console room.  

Ianto joined her about ten minutes later with two mugs on a tray. “I made you a cup. And I found some jammie dodgers.”

“Oh, I forgot I had those. One of my last regenerations, I loved a jammie dodger. Of course, I also liked fish fingers and custard. It was a thing.”

He made a face at her as he handed over one of the mugs. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Actually, it’s not as bad as you might think.” She took one of the biscuits and went to drop into the seat, taking a mouthful of tea. Ianto set the tray on the floor and then sat down next to her.

“Maybe it’s still the drug-incense in my system, but I’m pretty sure this is the best cup of tea I’ve ever had.”

Ianto smiled as he sipped his own drink. “I have a knack for beverage making. It’s how I got Jack to give me a chance with him at Torchwood three.”

“How does it work now, Torchwood?” She shifted to face him. “I mean, Torchwood used to be this huge organization, before the battle at Canary Warf, with hundreds of people employed, endless resources. Now it’s down to you, Jack and Gwen. Just the three of you on the frontline against any extra-terrestrial threat?”

“That about sums it up.” He glanced down at his hands where they were wrapped around the mug. “I guess it’s nothing but an idea now, a memory. We could still run things when we had the hub. While Tosh and Owen were still alive. We were actually quite good at what we did. Saved the world dozens of times.”

“Then what happened?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“They died. The hub got blown up.” He took a sip of tea, his features becoming resigned. “It’s gone, all ashes now. But I guess we’ll find a way. We always do.”

“Is that what you want to do though? Find a way to keep Torchwood alive?”

“I want to be with Jack.” He looked up at her, and she could see he meant that with every fibre of his being. Ianto Jones was special, all right, she could see it in the spark of his blue eyes. Once he loved someone, he loved them fiercely, deeply, with steadfast, unquestioning loyalty. Jack was a lucky man. She only hoped he realized exactly what he’d stumbled across.

“It’s not the same thing though, is it?”

He stared at her for a long moment before glancing away, obviously not happy with her observation.

“So is there some kind of plan for this unification thing we’re going to tonight?”

Clearly he was trying to change the subject, but she’d let him get away with that little deflective manoeuvre, for now.

“The plan is we go to the ceremony, snoop around and ask lots of nosey questions.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “That’s it? That’s the extent of your planning?”

She crossed her arms and levelled a challenging look on him. “Okay then, tell me what kind of preparation Torchwood would do for this sort of thing.”

“We’d start by getting a floor plan for the building layout so we can map all the entrances and exits. Then we’d make a risk assessment to decide what kind of weapons or tech we might—”

“Good God, that sounds boring.”

Ianto stared at her incredulously. “You think being prepared sounds boring? I imagine most people would consider it a smart way to make sure we didn’t get killed.”

“We’re going to a wedding or some such thing. I doubt anyone is going to try to kill us.”

“You think?” He gave a short, cynical laugh. “The last wedding I went to, at least half a dozen people died and Gwen almost gave birth to an alien spawn.”

“Then it sounds like Torchwood is doing weddings all wrong. The last one I went to, I ate too much cake and caught the bouquet. That seems far more normal.”

“Yes, well normal doesn’t factor in to anything Torchwood does,” he muttered. He grimaced and rubbed his forehead.

“Something wrong?”

“I think the incense is wearing off. Got a splitting headache.”

She shifted off the seat and took his cup from him, urging him to lay down. “You’ve had a long day, Mr. Jones. Why don’t you try to get some rest before we go out later?”

“Only for a few minutes,” he agreed, closing his eyes.

“A few minutes can make all the difference,” she murmured in reply. But he was already asleep.

Read Chapter Four here

[little-owly]

here it is, handful of short fanfics for ya, anon. from warf to googs.

btw this is INCREDIBLY LONG so im hoping the read more works!! please give me any feedback on this, worked on it for a while!! feel free to tell me ur favorite part or if i should do some with jack’s egos!!

* Wilf//ord War//fsta//che

Wilford is not a careful planner when it comes to meetings. He’d never admit how much he’d procrastinate on his notes for every meeting, or how he’s only reminded by said meetings thanks to Google. Much like his own reality bending powers and such, Wilford was a hot mess of a “leader” in their sessions.

Which is no surprise that Wilford found himself here. The very front of the room, explaining another plan for Mar//kip//lier TV, and resisting the urge to run out the room for a break. His bladder screamed in protest as Wilford stood perfectly still.

“So, what do you think? It’s more amazing than the last-”

“Horrible. Disorganized. And more importantly, I did not see my own segment.” Dark replied coldly, glitching in and out.

“Where the Sam Hell was my ad?! I told y'all I wanted at least 3 ad spots!” Ed interrupted, throwing his hat in frustration.

“C'mon, it’s only a-” Wilford bit his lip as he felt himself give in for a second. His knee bending as he quietly groaned.

Thankfully, the rest of the egos continued to argue amongst themselves. The main focus on the egos stayed on the current disagreement between Google and Ed.

For only a mere 15 minutes, he allowed the arguing to continue as he squirmed – tapping his foot, crossing his legs to a casual position, anything to hold it. He whimpered quietly as he rested his hands against the table, leaning on it for support. His overfilled bladder ever so slowly winning him over. However, the group continued arguing, paying no mind to the desperate man.

All but one. The Host, himself.

As if on cue, The Host turned his head in Wilford’s direction. Wilford’s blood running cold as he watched The Host take a deep inhale.

“The Host will notice strange behavior from Mr. Warfs//ta//che. Erratic movement and the ever so low groan from his throat. The others will soon notice too as they hear The Host’s description. Are they looking in confusion or merely to see if The Host is correct?”

“Knock it o-off.” Wilford mutters, crossing his legs a bit tighter, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“All is revealed as Wilford doubles over, huffing out shaky breaths. The sudden hissing and dark spot tells all. The group, all but The Host, stare in bewilderment and confusion. The stream of warm urine running down Mr. Warfs//ta//che’s left leg, puddling below on shame.”

Wilford only gasps as he finishes. Standing alone in his wet pants and puddle. The stares of the others on him.

“Mr. Warfs//ta//che – either for irony or for comedic effect – will rush out the room, calling the meeting to a close for a short bathroom break.” The Host speaks once more.

Wilford had never run faster in his life, trying to avert the gaze of the others.

* Dar//kip//lier

It’s still a hassle to contain his human form together. Dark’s ever glitching body is evident of that. The static surrounding his form is a dead giveaway.

But, nobody really explained to him the /other side/ of being human. Of possessing human form and the needs it comes with it. The need to eat, the need to drink, and the other need.

The need Dark absolutely hated, no, abhorred.

Bodily functions.

Which is why he found himself in Dr. ip//lier’s office. Tapping his foot as he sat atop the soft cushion of the examination chair. His legs crossing back and fourth ever so often. The nagging feeling just below his belly made him feel…outright disgusting. How can humans manage this feeling daily? Why was it so urgent and-

Dark was ripped from his thoughts as Dr. ip//lier opened the door.

“Uh, how did you-”

“No time to explain such useless reasons,” Dark hissed, “I need your help. And. Now.”

“…okay?” Dr. Ip///ler sat down at his own desk. Rolling his eyes, knowing if he didn’t help the ominous ego – he’d pay for it.

“This…thing here is distracting and disgusting.” Dark spat out, pressing his legs together, “It’s of no use to me whatsoever. It throbs with pain and ends with…with /humiliating/ me.”

“Well, what is it?”

“This! Do you not see it?!” Dark shouted, glitching more than usual as he unbuttoned his suit. Revealing the bulge of his bladder against the clean white button up.

“Remove it.”

“I…wait, what?” Dr. Ip//lier squeaked out, “Dark, I can’t just remove a /vital organ/ from you.”

“I said remove it!” Dark yelled. Dr. Ip//lier standing.

“Listen, this organ is needed. Your human form needs it to live – you don’t want to be powerless again without it, would you?”

Dr. Ip///ler laid Dark down on the examination chair. Dark groaning as he did – this “bladder” of his making it harder to fight back against the doctor.

“Let’s just take a look wt what exactly is going on, however. It’s not exactly healthy to have a bladder bulged up to /this/ size,” Dr. Ip//lier replied, gently probing at the spot.

Dark only hissed in desperation, shaking his head.

“Does that pain you?” the doctor asked, poking around the bulge.

“It’s uncomfortable. Maybe a better choice would be to remove it. Not like you’ll be arrested-”

The doctor ignored Dark as he pushed Dark’s legs apart. Dark arching his back as he did. The pressure and need growing stronger by the second.

“I said no,” Dr. Ip///ler huffed, “now, you say uncomfortable…how would you describe it?” He asked, punctuating his question with another push at Dark’s bladder.

“I told you already, you quack, I don’t know! Now, take this dammed thing out of my form before I do it myself-”

Dr. Ip//lier suddenly pressed deep into Dark’s bladder. Dark cursing as he curled up from the pressure. His teeth grit together as the wet warmth travelled down from his legs to the examination chair. Quietly pattering against the floor. The harsh hissing as his urine rushed out of him, completely and utterly soaking his lower half.

The doctor stood back as the puddle grew. His expression cold, watching the other breath heavily. His stream finally ending, growling deep in his throat.

“The bladder.”

Dark turned toward the doctor. Pure anger in his eyes.

“What you’re referring to is the bladder. A simple organ needed to store liquid waste such as urine. It’s located here,” he added, poking the spot once more – now flat again, “it is up to you to know when you must empty this organ through urination.”

Dark grit his teeth. Fighting back the urge to run off. Hide from the shame he felt.

“I can help you control it. But, what do I know, right? I’m just a quack.”

“Help me. I take back what I said in my time of desperation-” Dark lied, “make it /stop/.”

Dr. Ip///lier paused. Smirking to himself. Knowing he’s Dark’s last resort for help. He might as well enjoy the power high while it lasts. It’s not everyday you have a demonic ego at your mercy.

He took out his notepad from his desk, “I prescribe toilet training immediately. I’ll aid in this, but you must understand with it, more accidents like these will occur.”

Seeing the utter humiliation and anger in Dark’s eyes made it all worthwhile.

* Ed Edg//ar

It had to happen to him. It had to happen today of /all days/.

Ed kicked the pavement under him in anger. His beloved pick up truck beside him, it’s red color dark under the dimly lit parking lot. The city noises much quieter as he cursed.

Not only did his car not start, not only was he was still stuck at the office building for their meetings (which ended nearly 30 minutes ago), not only was he the only one around, but – he had to pee.

He fought back the need for more than an hour. Not wanting to excuse himself during the meeting to make his point on why his ad would bring more revenue and publicity for Mar//kip//lier TV. Because who would take him seriously if he did? It didn’t help that the bathroom was out of order.

30 minutes of not squirming or making sudden movements put a bigger strain of his bladder as he settled into his truck. His heart dropping as the engine sputtered.

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me right now,” he grunted, hand shoved in between his thighs in the privacy of his truck. He rocked back and forth, trying to start the truck. He groaned as he kept a grip on himself, shuffling out the truck to check under it’s hood. Shifting from foot to foot as he attempted to fix the problem.

And that lead him here, crossing his legs as he rested against his truck. The office building before him glowing, mocking him – knowing nobody was there.

Then, he spot the bush, on the far side of the truck, hidden completely from the dim lights of the parking lot.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, “ain’t nobody around to catch me. These city folks do it all the time.”

He hurriedly huddled over to the bush, his tight pants and thick suspenders digging into his bladder more and more, the pressure nearly doubling.

He took his time unzipping himself – maybe a bit too much time. The sudden light and siren made him shout, shoving his hands back to hold himself, knees buckled together.

“Intruder. Reveal yourself before I contact local authorities-” the robot voice stopped, “Ed?”

Ed wheezed, his face turning red as he felt his pee squeeze through his clutched hands. Running down the rough material of his jeans, puddling into his leather boots. The pee running to the seat of his pants, flooding down his thighs and calfs. He grunted as he finished, hands damp and wet warmth surrounded his lower half. His blush unmistakeable as he felt someone grab his shoulder gently from behind. The bright lights still on.

“W-why the hell are y-you ‘ere?” Ed groaned. Looking to his left to see Google.

“Wilford did not want to spend money on security measures – so he updated me with an application to roam and protect the offices.”

Ed rolled his eyes, “cheap bastard,” he sighed, “can ya let me inside to wash up? Please don’t make me stay out 'ere like…/this/.”

Google nodded, the lights emitting from his eyes turning off.

“I just need to send the recording of this incident to Wilford and Dark first – so it may be written off as a false alarm.”

“Wait…Wait! Google no!”

“Sent.”

“…I really hate fancy ass technology,” Ed sighed, following Google.

* Bim Trim//mer

“That’s it for tonight’s 'H//ire My As//s!’ Thank you to our winner Matthias! And thank you, dear viewer for tuning into Mar//kip//lier TV! Bye-bye!” Bim smiled. The audience cheering as he ducked back stage. The constants following from the other side.

“Oh hey,” Matthias smiled as Bim nearly bummed into him. Noticing the way he was breathing slowly, sweat on his forehead, “still on an adrenaline rush? Dude, you need to calm down, the show went awesome.”

“Oh, y-yeah. Just…” he paused to gulp, “excited.”

“Well, I just wanted to stop and say thanks for uh…making the game easier for me, ya know? That tall guy and blue haired dude didn’t stand a chance.”

“R-right, ahaha, I’m glad y-you enjoyed yourself,” Bim chuckled nervously.

“Call me up if you need someone else to fill in for an episode, yeah? See ya around.” Matthias smiled before walking away. Bim waved back with a wide smile. The butterflies in his stomach fluttering about.

He hurriedly closed the door before moaning. Doubling over to grab at his midsection. His heart pounding as he took pleasure in the delicious desperate feeling. Rubbing his thighs together as he waddled to sit in his chair for make up. The fluttering in his stomach still there as he whimpered.

Bim had a pastime that seemed…odd. A pastime that kept him drinking water after water. That left him squirming on set, smiling through the pain and pleasure in front thousands of people. One that resulted in flustered moans and wet suits.

Bim didn’t exactly know where this kink of his started, but was it sure fun to fight back the urge to grab himself on stage. To let in on his own dirty little secret.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, pressing down into his lower belly. A spurt escaping him, damp against his thigh. His knees buckled together, one hand holding himself while the other pressed more. Pressure gradually growing – overworked from holding it on stage.

He could just imagine Matthias here with him. Matthias making Bim kneel on the hardwood of the private room. His laugh loud as Bim begs him to go. To let go all over his floor.

In his fantasy, Matthias would only shove his shoe into Bim’s bladder, listening to him moan. Degrading him dearly, voice low.

“P-please, Matt-I can’t h-hold it-” Bim whispered to nobody. His body shaking. Too wrapped up in his fantasy to change positions.

Matthias would grab him by the hair, 'go ahead. Make a mess of yourself for me, Bim. Show me how much you love this, baby. Show me how desperate everyone’s favorite TV show host can get.’

Bim arched his back, the floodgates breaking as he pissed. Flooding out of him, soaking his hand and chair, spreading warmth unevenly. Absolutely ruining his pants as he wet.

“M-matthias! I…I’m-” he moaned. Rutting against his hand sandwiched between his thighs. Hips working as he pissed and pissed. The black material of his suit clinging to his skin. The piss running down his legs to gather at the edge of the hardwood floor.

He continued to rut against his own hand as he finished. Small spurts being pushed out. Bim cried out all the while, thankful his dressing room was soundproof.

That was, in the midst of pleasuring himself through the material, until the door opened. Bim too far in his fantasy to notice.

Matthias stood in the doorway, smiling down at a piece of paper, “hey, Bim! I realized I forgot to give you my number. Just in case you need-”

Bim stopped, wet pants glistening in the bright lights from the mirror besides him, heavy blush on his cheeks, and teary eyes staring back.

“…I’m…just gonna leave it…here…” Matthias replied, blue eyes wide as he placed the paper on the nearest chair. “Just…call me.” He blushed before running away.

Matthias sat hours later at his kitchen table as texts and calls came by the second.

'MATTHIAS IM SORRY I JUST NEEDED TO GO AND MY BATHROOM WAS BROKEN’

'DON’T SHAME ME I KNOW IT LOOKED WEIRD BUT JUST LISTEN’

'PLEASE DON’T TELL ANYONE IM BEGGING YOU’

'I’LL LET YOU WIN THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL PLEASE KEEP IT TO YOURSELF’

“He’s lucky I’m so openminded.” Matthias sighed. However…that Christmas special deal /did/ sound pretty good…

* Silver She//pher//d

The office space was a complete disaster. Their meeting room table was broken to pieces, the glass wall shattered. Complete and utter chaos.

All as the two ego fought.

“That all you got?” Yand//ere laughed, wiping the blood off her chin, “some lame boomerangs to throw at me?”

“Yan,” Silver heaved, “your stalking and relentless murder has to end. It goes against every single law in this city.”

“You don’t know why I do it!” Yand//ere screamed, “I have to protect Senpai!”

“I do the protection around here.” Silver stood. Readying himself for further attack, his comically oversized gloves barely hanging on.

“Shut up! Nobody here even knows you! You’re just some guy who happens to stop one criminal a month while wearing skintight suits!”

Silver charged towards Yand//ere, his fist connecting with the other’s chin. Falling back down again as Silver stood above him.

“Your Senpai is another citizen of this city that I vow to protect from criminals like you.” He triumphantly stated. Panting through the small hole for his mouth.

Yand//ere screamed in anger once more before reaching for a shard of broken glass, tackling down Silver.

“So high and mighty with this, huh?” Yand//ere yelled, tugging at the stretchy material hiding Silver’s face, “let’s see why you hide this all the time.”

Silver struggled, trying to push the other off of him. Groaning as he used what little strength he could to hold back Yand//ere’s arm. He wondered how a innocent looking ego as him could be so terrifyingly strong.

Yand//ere laughed madly, the shard of glass closer to Silver’s mask. So close to ripping it apart. So close to ruining his mysterious identity.

It happened so quickly, Silver barely realized what had happened.

The tearing of the material as he lost the fight. Yand//ere panting as the glass shard was thrown away. The air conditioning hitting his face. Silver’s black hair fell in front of his eyes, shaggy and bed-head like. The crescent shaped scar on his right cheek exposed, from the edge of his eye down to his chin.

Yand//ere stood stunned, seeing his face for the first time. Being the only one to /see/ it.

Silver kicked off Yand//ere. The other ego flying off towards the other side of the meeting room, groaning as the smacked against the wall.

“Y-you will not stop m-me from protecting Se-Senpai-”

Silver got back up, throwing his gloves off. Clad in only his silver suit and black, torn, cape.

“I can do this all day.” He coughed, wide stance and fists drawn back.

“What the hell?!” Wilford yelled, turning the corner to see the meeting room. Totally destroyed. The two egos ignoring him.

“You two, again?! Goddamn it, Dark! Doc! Google! Anyone! Yan and Silver and fighting again!” He yelled, running back down the hallway.

Yand//ere giggled. Finally couching to get up. Disheveled red hair hid Yand//ere’s eyes.

“Knock it off! Stop dramatically stalemating!” Wilford screamed again as Google followed behind. The two making their way past what /use/ to be the glass wall of their meeting room.

“Please step aside, I got this criminal-”

Silver didn’t utter another word. Yand//ere yelling as a swift and powerful kick was given to him. Directly into his belly.

Silver fell back, the wind knocked out of him completely. Yand//ere staring him down.

Then, the slow flow started. Not noticeable at first, Silver mistaking it as blood from an unknown wound. It wasn’t until Yand//ere began to laugh madly again did Silver realize.

“Wow, did you just have an accident?! During a fight?!”

Silver groaned, in too much pain to stop. The bottom half of suit turning black, the hissing and steadily growing puddle evidence enough. He dropped his head, not only humiliated by having his mask removed, but wetting himself? After one kick?

Silver breath through his nose harshly as he heard footsteps approach. Yand//ere being picked up by Wilford.

“H-hey! He started it! He tried to say he protects Senpai, not me!” Yand//ere yelled, voice hoarse.

“I don’t care who started it, but I know damn well who’s going to clean this up.” Wilford spat, dragging Yand//ere by the shirt. Escorting them away from the scene.

“Are you okay?” Asked Google. Silver lifting his head.

“My facial recognition feature does not pick up who you are.”

“Yeah? I don’t expect it to.” Silver groaned. The wet feeling in his suit making him wince. The large puddle around him made him feel ashamed once more.

“It’s me, Google. Silver. I just…don’t have the thing on.”

“Cataloging this under your file, Silver. Would you allow me to call Dr. Ip//lier for medical assistance?”

“P-please…fuck, I think Yand//ere broke my rib.”

“Hello, Doctor.” Google spoke off in the distance, in a call. “Silver needs urgent medical attention. I believe his symptoms are a fracture lower rib, various cuts, a sprained ankle, and a overactive bladder…I’ll bring him shortly.”

Silver groaned before applying his mask back on as much as he could, the mask only hiding his eyes and scare.

Did Google have to add in the accident part? Well…he’d actually prefer that then explaining the scar, he thought as he slowly walked with Google. The cold wetness sticking to his skin.

* Ki//ng Of T//he Squ//irrels

The King sat near the edge of the table sandwiched between Google and Yand//ere. The meeting droned on and on. The peanut butter on his chin dripping as he squirmed.

Oh. /That/ feeling was back.

King bit down on his lip as he struggled to remember what to do when this happened. He remembers the conversation with Dr. Ip//lier well enough until it got to the steps. He only remembers him groaning as King explained again and again – if his subjects use the earth as their bathroom, then why can’t he?

King looked over at Yand//ere’s shoulder. Eyeing the doodles on the paper Yand//ere held. The glittery ink and violent drawings around the word “Senpai” interested him. The only thing closest to a ‘Senpai’ he and his subjects had was 'a mate’. But those come a dime a dozen, why did this one matter so much to the ego?

“Eyes to yourself, baka.” Yand//ere muttered, crushing the paper up.

King backed off, as he should.

The feeling however, didn’t. King squirmed more and more. Hand going down to his lap to hold himself. Biting his lip.

“…p-pervert!” Yand//ere yelled, scooting away from the table. The other egos turning towards King.

“Uh, the hell is he doing?” Ed spoke up.

“I…I need…”

The room fell silent.

“Need what, son?” Ed spoke up again, Dark groaning.

“Isn’t it obvious? He needs to use the toilet.”

“Well how the hell does that make him a pervert? Unless he has a,” Ed coughs, stopping himself from laughing, “some kind of unspoken kink.”

Google pings, “correction. That particular ego would be Bim. Judging by his searches on his personal cell phone and laptop here on the office’s internet – Bim has searched up the term 'omorashi’ several times this week between the hours of 9pm to 12 am-”

“Oh god, Bim…Bim Tri//mer himself, has a piss kink?!” Ed laughed, mustache bouncing as he did. Yand//ere, Wilford, and Silver joined in. Unable to hide it.

King, in utter confusion, laughed along. The action causing him to wince, stopping immediately, spurts wetting the crotch of his pants.

“I…I do not! Google is…is just malfunctioning! His update must be missing!” Bim yelled, voice high as he blushed.

“My functions are running correctly, thank you very much.” Google replied.

“It’s not true! That sounds utterly disgusting and unsanitary!” Bim defended. Ed bumping shoulders with him. Laughing harder.

“Omorashi? Is that pretty girlies pissing everywhere?” Ed laughed. Dark cracking a smirk, fighting back laughter himself.

“The Host will remind everyone King is about to wet himself if the doctor isn’t called in immediately to help.” The Host deadpanned. The other egos turning back to King.

“Better go help 'im, Bim. Sounds like a wet dream for you.” Yand//ere teased. Bim groaning as he hid his face. Embarrassment causing him to hide.

“Hello, Doctor? King is stuck with an overfilled bladder in today’s meeting, along with Bim – the ego we discussed about last night, and the reason why he might like such a kink? I do believe Bim would like to keep holding however.” Google spoke aloud, in a call with Doctor, eyes staring off into space.

The others laughed, Bim gritting his teeth, “you’ll be hearing from my lawyers with this ridiculous slander!” he yelled before leaving the meeting room. The Host rushing to join Bim.

“Of course, I’ll escort him over.” Google said as he ended the call. Helping King stand – as best he could.

“N-no! I don’t think I can qu-quite do that!” King moaned, using his cape to hide himself. “It’s too much p-pressure!”

“Bim left at the worst time. He’d be getting one hell of a show,” Wilford laughed. The room laughing more as Google was left with no other option, simply rolling King out /on/ his chair to the doctor’s.

King squirmed more and more as they approached the office. Moaning as his thighs rubbed together tightly.

“Doctor! It’s us,” Google yelled. Dr. Ip//lier rushing over.

“King,” he tsked, “we talked about this.”

“I…I don’t remember what to do!” King yelled, groaning as he leaked more.

“You were to call me in case you needed assistance. That’s why I sat you with Google.”

King nodded, gasping, “I…I’m sorry! Forgive me!”

“Wha-”

King sprung up from the chair, squatting as he finally released his bladder. The pee going towards the seat of his pants, soaking himself. Tiny droplets falling to the floor as his cape soaked up most of his puddle below. King sighing in relief the entire time.

Dr. Ip//lier held the bridge of his nose in between two fingers in frustration.

“Google, please place him in the same program as Dark for training. I think Dark could benefit from it to.”

“Confirmed.” Google replied, watching as King finished. A goofy smile plastered on his face. His pants a completely darker shade.

“I’m guess you’re only doing what your subjects do?”

“Of course, doctor. It’s much easier than the complicated way.”

“Don’t you usually take your pants off like your subjects?”

“I…uh, couldn’t be bothered to this time…”

“Oh King,” Dr. Ip//lier sighed, helping him stand, “c'mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

* Host

The Host stayed serious. Listening as Bim ranted on and on, not uttering a word.

“-and, why does Google even have that feature?! The wifi company can do that on their own! Total and utter invasion of privacy!”

The Host sighed, “The Host pats Bim’s shoulder in an act of compassion. He agrees, the egos are immature to tease such a topic – especially if it’s not true. But, he would also like to remind Bim that half of those who laughed did have an embarrassing moment involving that type of waste, so they have no room to laugh.”

Bim wipes away a tear, “thanks, Host. I really do appreciate it.”

“…You’re welcome, Mr. Tr//im//mer. The night sky has turned a dark shade of violet blue, the stars twinkling above us, in their own little world. Is it not time to retire home?”

“…you have a unique way of speaking. I like it,” Bim admitted, standing from his office chair as he stretched, “you’re right. See ya tomorrow buddy. And uh, Host?”

The Host turned before leaving.

“Thank you. For everything. We’re both…kinda the underdogs here. Always forgotten or teased by the others. Its nice to have someone to confide and call a close friend. You’ve just always been there for me. Be careful getting home, yeah?”

“The Host smiles, wishing Bim a good night farewell, and a thank you as well.”

The walk home isn’t as bad as other days. Only three people gasped at his bandages.

He did his nightly routine as usual. Undress to a casual white t-shirt and black sweatpants. Prepare a microwaved dinner. Drink no fluids after 8 pm. Listen to his favorite podcast. And finally, brush his teeth, clocking in at 11 pm. The quiet apartment settling as Host dreaded the night ahead.

“My unsettling thoughts are merely illusions. I…I’m sure tonight will prove to be different. I shall sleep in peace and wake up…” he dared not finish the sentence.

In a quick few minutes, Host fell in a quiet sleep.

The darkness suddenly brightened. His vision recovering to that horrible face. Scrunched up with anger, revenge deep in his eyes. The dock and and the attack stood on creaking. The old house he used as an author behind the man. Quiet forest noises adding to his horror.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ pay, Author.” He said in a rough voice, a punch landing on Host’s chin.

“R-ryan! Please! I was stupid and-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughed, pushing Host over. Splashing into the lake below. The water confusing him, disorienting him. He screamed under the water, bubbles forming out his mouth as he attempted to breathe. The water filled him completely, surrounding him. The faint dizziness in his head as his vision slowly faded once more.

And then he was back in his bed, screaming as he sat up. Skin slick with sweat, fear running through him.

The dream. It was that dammed dream again.

“Time?! What’s the time?!” He yelled aloud to his home’s computer system. Thankful Google offered to place such a system for him.

“Hello, Host. It is 4:33 am. You have roughly 2 more hours of sleep left.” It replied back. Host panting as he shifted.

Oh.

Oh no.

Host pulled back the sheets, feeling underneath him. Feeling his wet sheets and sweatpants. Still warm. The strong scent of urine lingered in the room.

Host cried. His tears bloodied as they ran down his face. Curling up on himself.

“I’m a fool. An absolute idiot.” He sniffled. Rocking back and forth as sobs ran through his body. Helpless and humiliated.

“…Please call Bim Trim//mer.”

“Calling Bim…”

Bim’s sleepy voice rang throughout the house. Speaker on throughout his house.

The conversation was short. Host having no problem in explaining his situation. Spilling out his problem to Bim, the same damned problem he’s had for 9 days now. Waking up to humiliation and wet sheets.

“…I’ll be right over. Go take a shower and leave out your dirtied stuff. I’ll take care of it.” Bim said, ending the call.

Host blushed, setting the clothes aside and unlocking his front door. He could hear Bim announce himself. The shuffling of sheets and clothes being tossed into the washing machine.

The Host winced as the reapplied his bandages, knowing Dr. Ip//lier would be angry with him for it tomorrow. But he shrugged, too anxious to care. Too sad to even ask for help.

“Hey, you alright?” Bim asked, standing to Host’s side.

“The Host will walk to the bed with support from Mr. Trim//mer. His hands feeling the new soft material of his bedding. The fresh scent welcoming, save for the hint of baking soda.”

“I thought you’d like the whole thing replaced,” Bim sighed, “you want to go back to sleep or…?”

“…I’m scared, Mr. Trim//mer. I see darkness all around, only to regain vision to a horrible nightmare. It’s a cruel act by the powers above us. I…wish to not be left alone.”

“…I’ll stay. Just, let me sleep in the living room, okay? I’ll call Google and say we’ll be late-”

“Mr. Trim//mer. Please, stop me if I’m overstepping my boundaries – but may you please stay here? I understand from a sanitary point like you’ve made before – how it can be disgusting. But…I’m so scared. I’m terrified of what I’ll see next.”

Bim sighed. Walking to the other side of the bed. Sneaking under the covers with Host. His hand ever so gently reaching out to hold The Host’s.

“Thank you…Bim.”

Bim perked up. Noticing the name change. His face heating up as The Host leaned over to turn his lamp off. The early shade of dawn’s purple seeping through windows.

“You’re welcome, Host. Goodnight.

"I bid you a restful sleep.”

* Dr. Ipl//ier

“Google, please tell me the status of the bathroom repair.”

“50% done. Estimated to be finished by next Friday.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. No wonder it seems like everyone has lost their basic bodily functions – besides the two in his newest program. (Which was really just him checking up on Dark and King and reminding them when to go, rewarding them for each successful try with praise.)

“At least my office bathroom is still working.”

“Actually, our workers accidentally busted a pipe in the walls, which lead to yours. Your restroom is under maintenance until the 4th.” Google replied. Monotone voice glitching.

“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I am an android. I do not know how to "kid” around yet.“

Dr. Ip//lier sighed.

The rest of the day went on as normal. The office as normal as it could be. Silver popping in for treatment for a papercut – 20 minutes for comfort and 2 minutes to actually treat him.

It was at the end of the day that proved difficult. His bladder heavy in his gut. Discomforting. Distracting.

It was also at the end of the day did Wilford come in. Complaining of a toothache.

"Open up. I may be a doctor but I gained a bit of knowledge in the mouth area with my college roommate.” He sighed. Wilford opening up without effort.

“Oh, ouch.” the doctor winced, “no wonder why. You got a cavity in your upper left area. With…is this bubblegum?” he questioned, poking the substance out with his tools. Wilford nodding in pain – groaning.

The pain hit him more. His bladder making him bite his bottom lip. Acting as perfectly as he could – especially since this was the same ego who still laughed at the simple mention of urine. He thanked his body for betraying him as he pressed his thighs together, as if standing straighter.

“So, what do I do? Pull it?”

“No. I can work in a filling for you by Thursday. However,” he sighed, preparing himself mentally to walk normally, “you can take…”

He took his first few steps, wobbly as he reached his shelf. Taking down a simple pill bottle before coming back to Wilford.

“These. They’ll help the pain. But, no sugars or bubblegum until then. Try to chew on the other side, yeah?”

Wilford nodded, taking the pill bottle. He snickered as Dr. Ipl//ier wrote on his clipboard.

“Doc? Is it true you’re potty training old edgy boy and animal lover?”

“That’s confidential. What I use to treat patients is of no business to you, Wil.”

Wilford laughed, “c'mon. You can tell me, I’m sure I can tell you even more embarrassing stuff between those two. I have been around the longest.”

“Is there anything else I can treat you for, Wil? Perhaps some manners?”

Wilford grew quiet. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll see you in two days, Doc.” He sheepishly replied.

The doctor waved a goodbye before closing his office, calling for Google. The pain in his bladder intensifying.

“Google? Who has a personal bathroom in their office?”

“That would be Bim.”

“Oh, thank God,” he sighed, “can you open his office for me? I’m sure he won’t mind me-”

“I cannot allow that.”

Dr. Ip//lier’s blood ran cold. Crossing his arms.

“Uh, Google? I really need to get in Bim’s office.”

“I cannot allow that.”

Urgency ran through him. Why won’t Google allow him in? Why is he so aggressive about it? There’s no possible way Google’s free will has been reactivated – right?

His bladder screamed at him to go. The doctor groaning under his breath.

The keycard.

The keycards they had used before Google.

The doctor frantically searched for the card. His calm and collected self now rushing, urgency making him crack under pressure (both literally and figuratively).

Google followed behind as the doctor rushed, keycard in hand. Bim’s office so close. His relief so close. His excitement getting the best of him as he struggled to scan the card.

“Access denied.” Google said. Dr. Ip//lier turning towards him. His hand scanning the card again, again, and again.

Each time punctuated with an “access denied.”

“No, nonono-” the doctor whimpered, feeling himself leak. Hand reaching down to grab himself, “please, please! This is embarrassing, please grant me access.”

“I cannot allow that.”

“Why?! Google, tell me right now why the fuck not.” he whimpered, more leaking. His hips wiggling as he tried to hold it.

“Bim installed an application onto me that locks anyone out of his files, internet history, and office. This application was created to keep anyone out by any means.”

“…Google, please! I’m not going to last-”

“I’m sorry, Doctor.”

Google picked up the squirmy ego, placing him back in his office. Dr. Ip//lier tearing up.

He attempted to find something to use. A bedpan, anything.

It was just as he was leaning down did he finally cry out. His blue scrubs turning a dark shade. The urine pushing out of him at a fast rate. Flooding his scrubs, the splatter of his urine drenching the floor was enough for the doctor to cry. Hot tears running down his face as he finally widened his stance. Shame and guilt running through him.

“…Doctor?” Google asked after a while, the other squatting as he continued to cry.

“A-are you normal, again?”

“I believe so. Do you wish for me to clean up and get you a change of scrubs?”

“Y-yes. Please.”

“I’ll be hailing for your taxi as soon as you are done. Please take your time.” Google said, gently lifting him to his feet. The fresh change of clothes in his hands from the opened cabinet.

The doctor could sense this was his Google. The same one he’s mentored for years. The same one he worked to reprogram. The same one he spent nights fixing up.

His Google. Back to normal.

“T-thank you,” he sobbed, embracing the other. Google quickly returning the gesture. His hands running through the doctor’s jet black hair.

Dr. Ipl//ier rounded the corner to change, hearing Google shout.

“Do you wish for me to add you into the program reserved for Dark and King?”

Doctor chuckled, “haha, very funny,” he sighed, “no, Google! I’ll be fine! Call the taxi in 5 minutes!”

* Yand//erep//lier

“There he is! Senpai!” Yan exclaimed. Watching the green haired boy walk on pass the schoolyard gates. Her eyes twinkling as he waved goodbye to a blonde boy.

Senpai was his to watch now.

Yan quickly followed behind from a distance. Watching as the boy scrolled through his phone (his passcode was 2486, how simple!) and walk on. (Senpai lived exactly 15 minutes away from the school.)

That was, until Yan felt how badly he needed to use the restroom. No surprise, considering he’d had 4 water bottles during P.E. that morning, not bother to use the restroom during class – wanting to see his senpai. No matter what.

Yan was so engrossed in his need, he didn’t notice the boy next to him. Waiting for him as he passed by.

“Hey! Walkin’ the same way?” He asked, accent thick.

Oh.

/Oh./

This /was happening/.

Yan yelped quietly as he looked to his right. The green haired boy smiling wide.

“Y-yeah. I a-am.” He replied shyly. Because of course, after months of careful stalking and murder, Senpai had to notice him now – while he concentrated on not peeing.

“Cool, hey…aren’t you Yan? I think you sit two rows behind me, right?”

Yan nodded, his bladder throbbing. Regretting his choice now, his blush growing heavier.

“Well, uh, I’m Jack,” he smiled once more, “I like your hair. Nice to see someone around who appreciates louder colors.” He motioned to his green hair.

“I…l-like yours too, it f-fits you…” Yan whimpered. Awkwardly trying to shuffle along. Hoping Senpai doesn’t notice.

“Really? Aw, thanks! You’re so sweet! I got it just because, ya know, big fan of green.”

“I l-like red a l-lot, b-but! Green is an amazing color! Don’t get me wrong!”

Jack laughed, “it’s okay, Yan. I’m not gonna kill ya for not liking green. I mean, technically lots of bad things are green. Like puke.”

Yan giggled. His heart thumping, half out of fear and half out of “holy shit, this is happening.”

“Lots of b-bad things are red…like, uh…apples?”

“Apples? Huh, they’re not that special. Thought you’d say something like blood after murdering someone”

Yan stopped in his tracks.

“W-what?!”

“Ya know, like horror movies. The blood they use on screen after murders in 'em is so bright red. But, it looks great on you. Makes ya stand out. Noticable – in a good way!”

Yan practically melted. His heart thumping out of his chest.

Noticable. Senpai, finally, noticed him.

“Thank you…so much.” Yan smiled. Fixing his skirt.

“Welcome! Err…this is my stop. Wanna walk back tomorrow? This place is rough at this time of day.”

“Oh! Y-yeah! Of course! S-see you tomorrow, Jack.”

“Night, Yan!”

He waved as Jack entered his home. Then dashed into a nearby alley. Holding himself through his skirt. Knees buckled and shaking. Holding his book bag to his chest as he looked up at the sky.

“Please, please, please, let me make it.” He shuddered. Squirming against the wall. Hidden from sight as he whined. Bouncing foot to foot. Preparing himself to take his first step away from the wall.

Yan regretted it exactly 4 seconds later. The pee running down his bare legs, the cold breeze making him whine louder. Letting go of his skirt – saving it from staining. The hissing and speed he was wetting made the slightest bit of tears run down his face. Panting as he wiped them away.

The pitter-pattering of his pee echoed around the alley as he gasped, more tears coming to his eyes. His shoes and knee high socks completely soaked.

“…Yan?”

Yan never ducked faster in his life, hiding behind a dumpster. His shameful wet shoe prints on the ground leading to his hiding spot.

“Yan? That red head?” He heard another voice ask.

“Yeah, we walked home. You know Yan lives out this way, Felix?”

“I thought Yan lived in the apartments a block away from the school.”

“…eh. It doesn’t matter. Anything to walk with someone that cute.”

“Dude! You’re going for Yan?”

“Yeah! Cute smile, bright red hair, sweet and shy. Totally my type.”

“Didn’t Yan have like, 12 knives taken away last year-”

“Ssh, we all have our flaws, Felix.” He said as they walked on. Their voices fading.

Meanwhile, Yan covered his mouth. Crying tears of joy. Not minding the shame he felt 2 minutes ago, not minding the soaked socks and shoes.

Senpai…Senpai liked him too.

And that matters a lot more than wetting himself at his age.

* Goo//glip//lier

The android stood in front of the meeting room. The other egos watching as the doctor explained.

“So, I propose we add in Google here to my segment. I’ve downloaded new software from a credible source to Google so he can assist in more ways!”

“Ya sure this thing follows the law of robotics?” Ed spoke up. Dr. Ipl//ier laughings.

“Has he killed anyone yet?”

“He nearly choked me during a strep throat test.” King spoke up.

“King, you screamed bloody murder and grabbed him first. You’re fine.”

King mumbled, crossing his arms, “my personal army will hear of this betrayal.”

“Anyways! Let’s test it out! Today, Google with preform a simple papercut treatment – with this fake model hand.” The doctor announced, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, Google. Perform procedure 250.”

Google smiled, setting to work. The others watching on. Some bored, some indifferent, some interested greatly.

He stopped.

Bandage ready to use. The area cleaned. But, he stopped.

“What’s going on?” Wilford asked, inching away from the android.

“Uh…Google? Please proceed with the procedure-”

Google stood up, straight as a board. Tall and ominous.

“Error. Error. No input found. No-” he glitched. Head shaking as he slammed his fist against the table. The egos stepping back as Dr. Ipl//ier tried to reach Google’s main switch, located behind his ear.

“Override? O-operati-tion?” He sputtered, the other hand punching the table. Wilford rushed, hiding behind Ed.

“Google?! Google! Shut down! Shit down all apps!”

“N-no input f-found.”

“Fine.” the doctor groaned, flipping the switch.

The egos yelled in fear as Google stood back up. Eyes blinking blue and white.

“Malfunction. Systems rebooting. Releasing coolant tank contents.”

“…what? That’s still working?!” he squeaked, stepping back as Google glitched.

The wet spot started immediately, rushing down Google’s jeans to the floor below. The dark streams running down, glistening under the harsh light of the meeting room.

He stopped after a few seconds. Falling onto the table, legs still spread – if someone didn’t know any better, they’d merely think he was sleeping.

“…well, that function still works. I thought I disconnected it last year.” Dr. Ipl//ier huffed.

“Wow, Google is actually shut down? Like, dead?” Yan asked, leaning over to see Google.

“No, just asleep. He’ll recover and I can delete the app off of him.”

“Ya like the show, Bim?” Ed nudged, laughing. Bim moved away from the table. Annoyed as all hell.

“Knock it off, Edward.” Host said. Standing, “May I inquire about the power? Doesn’t Google keep that running-”

The building was soon plunged into darkness. The whirring of the electricity failing around them.

“You had to ask?” Dark muttered. The doctor pulling out his phone to use.

“Keep calm, everyone! There’s a generator downstairs in the basement. If we all go together we can help find it, connect it, and turn it on, yeah?”

Mutters of 'sure’ and 'why nots’ rung around. The group following the doctor.

“Hey, doc? Where did you download that app?”

“I believe I received it in an email from an old roommate of mine. He said his colleague urged him to have me download it.”

“What was the creator’s name?” Dark spoke up.

“…Anti? I’m sure it’s just a username-”

“Doctor, you idiot.” Wilford and Dark huffed. The group shuffling downstairs. Half fearful of what Google’d do if he woke up before they got back upstairs, the other half ready to fight.

The poor doctor, however? Well, he just wanted his taxi to come and take him home for the day.

[skyskip]

A Lalafell’s Tale, Part 3: A True Samurai

[Part 1] [Part 2]

((An apology for anyone actually following this. The tale is growing longer with the telling, and whatnot. One more chapter left after this, I swear.))

After scouring the surrounding areas of the Goblet, Kip realized that more time had passed during his little fever dream than he initially anticipated. There was no sign of Sasajiri anywhere, it would seem, and the the moon had started to move closer towards the horizon upon further inspection. He would need to set out on the road if he was going to have any hope of catching up to the little old samurai. After making a quick stop at the stables to hop on his chocobo, the Lalafell was off to the races as the pair blasted through the chilly dunes under the starlight.

Despite how late it was, Thanalan was always home to traveling merchants making their way to and from Ul’dah. That, combined with how distinct Sasajiri’s clothes and weapon were, made it a simple matter for Kip to follow the trail of merchants that the man had left in his wake to get directions as to where he had gone. This would inevitably culminate in Kip narrowly arriving in Vesper Bay just as the silver-haired samurai was boarding the last ferry of the night. With a skip, hop, and narrow toss of gil towards the man in charge of the ferry, Kip and his chocobo would only barely make the boat as it left port.

“Sasajiri!” Kip called out to the man, who was just about to descend into the lower levels of the ship. The elder twisted his neck swiftly after being called, his hand falling to the hilt of his blade until he saw the blonde Lalafell hop off his chocobo to approach him. “Sasajiri.” Kip began. “I’m sorry for...er...sneaking up on you like this, but we can’t part ways yet! You know what happened to my grandfather. I need you to tell me. I need to know if he’s still alive. Please.”

Sasajiri’s hardened gaze would squint at Kip pleaded, his thoughts unknowable even as his hand dropped from the hilt of his blade. After a few moments of silence, the man would let a grunt of displeasure escape his lips. “You know not what you ask, Skyskip.”

“Can we please talk without the cryptic speak?” Kip asked as nicely as he could, trying to disguise how frustrated he was getting with all these old samurai. “I’m not a child, you know? I’m turning 27 years old for gods sake!” He’d protest, which seemed to be enough to cause Sasajiri to sigh and turn his eyes upwards to the starry night sky. He would leave Kip in suspense for almost a full minute before responding.

“Very well.” The elder relented. “I will take you to him.”

“Truly?” Kip asked, stars in his hopeful eyes as a smile appeared on his lips.

“Yes. I do not think it wise, but you are an adult, as you said. If this is truly what you wish, I will oblige you. But do not forget that this was the path you chose on your own.”

“Gah...again with the cryptic stuff…” Kip muttered, but did not press the topic, shoving his hands in his pockets a little indignantly.

“Heh…” Sasajiri snickered for a moment, before returning to his previous stoic expression. “When the ferry lands in Limsa we will begin our journey. We should arrive before dawn. Steel yourself.”

Steel yourself. Kip wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing that, and he pondered it the entire journey as Sasajiri lead him through what felt like all of La Noscea, staying close to the roads all the while to avoid any wild creatures or bandits that might have been stalking the area. The two Lalafell were pretty safe, if only due to the rather unnerving aura that surrounded the elder man. Short as he was, he was not someone to be trifled with, and even Kip knew that despite being able to lock down his katana swipes earlier. In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t be putting as much faith and trust into this man he just met. There was no telling what his true motives were, but Kip had to assume he really knew his grandfather, or at least met him once. How else would he have been able to get his hands on his soul crystal?

“We’re here.”

Just as the blonde was having second thoughts his mind would be broken from it’s contemplative stupor when Sasajiri announced their arrival. Kip blinked a few times, before looking about. It would appear that the elder had lead the younger Lalafell to what appeared to be a waterfall that rolled off into a small stream that fell into the ocean below. Even in the darkness Kip could recognize that this place was near the old fisher village that he called home as a child. As a matter of fact, he distinctly recalled his grandfather forbidding him from going out this far, yet he was never told why.

“I know this place.”

“Hm. I imagine you would.” Sasajiri mused as he took a few steps towards the waterfall, gazing into the steam of water that fell from above for a few moments before speaking softly. “Beyond this wall of water is a small cave. There you will find what you seek.”

“...you’re not going to come with me?” Kip tilted his head, feeling a little concerned at this point. He just couldn’t get a read on this guy.

Sasajiri sucked in a breath as he shook his head. “No...my path sent me here long ago. I dare not return again. If you are so determined to continue down this path, you will do it alone.”

Kip’s fists clenched as his nerves were acting up. He stepped into the rushing stream that came up to his knees, staring straight into the wall of water separating him from the cave. Now more than ever did he feel a sense of existential dread that he could not place. It was almost as though a presence lingered beyond the falls, attempting to dissuade him from entering beyond the threshold. Yet, despite how desperately he might have wanted to run from the terror building in his belly he knew he could not turn his back here. After inhaling a breath, Kip closed his eyes while taking a few steps forward to finally cross the threshold into the cave.

The water drenched him, taking his breath away with it’s frigid chill as a shiver ran down the Lalafell’s spine. His eyes closed tight until he took enough steps into the cave for the water to fall away, leaving him damp and alone within the cave. The only illumination provided was the moonlight piercing the veil of water, casting Kip’s shadow forward over a figure slumped over in the darkness, away from the moon’s embrace. “G-grandfather?” Kip’s voice came out in a whisper, one laced in fear of the unknown. No answer. Kip took another step forward and repeated the name again with slightly more confidence. “Grandfather?”

No answer once more. Kip continued to approach until he could recognize that the slumped forward figure was wearing a familiar haori that his grandfather always wore. Something was odd about it though. From what he could tell something was poking against the back of it from the inside. “Grandfather? It’s me, Ki- ow!” He had reached forward to pat what he assumed was the man on his back, only to be rewarded with a sharp pain stabbing into his palm. Kip quickly recoiled, nearly slipping on the damp rock floors as he knocked the slumped over figure into the beam of moonlight to reveal it’s form.

What lay before Kip was a skeleton clad in his grandfather’s battered haori, his skull clearly detached from the space between his shoulders and his bloodstained katana falling from the space between his ribs and hips and clattering on the ground beneath him. With the skeleton having fallen to the wayside, Kip was able to glance down towards the rounded jingasa laying upside down on the stone. Inside was a similarly upside down skull seemingly gazing back up at Kip’s shaken form, absolutely paralyzing the Lalafell before the realization of what had come to pass had overwhelmed him. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees as his hands shook as his stomach coiled into knots. He could not form words or any coherent thoughts. All he could do now was scoop up the jingasa and hold it to his chest as he cried his eyes out for a man who didn’t deserve his tears. But he could not help it. He was family, and Kip loved him.