#he probably has an entire kit of attachments for that camera

[vault81]

🧶 🐰 📓 for all three? Hier sind kekse.

Ahh hello Bleu!!! thank you sm for the ask!! happily do those for all 3 :)

🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

Jack: for Jack I would say his hobby is photography! It probably started in the Vault one day when he found an old camera, I don't think he thought much of it at that time but he'd slowly come to love it. I don't think he'd like photographing people though, he finds it a bit awkward. I think he'd love to photograph the landscape around him, any view he finds interesting he'll instantly get his camera out to capture it. Also, any plants he comes across are getting captured! doesn't matter where! he'll lay flat on his stomach to always get as close as he can for a good picture. (totally not projecting here lmao)

He probably has stacks of photo albums in his home/bag just full of these photos.

Eliza: I can easily see Eliza being into drawing, primarily sketching. See something interesting in the wasteland? lemme just make a quick sketch of that and move on! or if she finds a piece of interesting tech she's drawing a full technical diagram of that thing. She probably just started it one day in class, and just kept on drawing the things around her. I think she'll be perfectly able to draw a robot accurately, but if you asked her to draw a human you'll get a stick figure.

Stephen: for Stephen I think he'd more musically inclined compared to the other two. I can see him really enjoying playing the Piano or Keyboard! He probably picked up this hobby post-war, It's a hobby he probably always wanted to get into but couldn't afford at the time. But now he doesn't have to pay? he's totally stealing a Piano from a ruin and dragging it back home so he can learn. I think he'd enjoy being able to express himself musically, being one of the few thing's that can relax him. He just switches everything else out and focuses on the song. (again totally not projecting here lol)

🐰 - How huggable is this oc?

Jack: Very huggable, please hug him. He loves hugs! but none of his friends do! He's perfectly built for them as well! Strong Arms ✔️ 2 Big Pillows on his chest ✔️ a soft tummy? ✔️ prime hugging body! I think he'd give bear hugs too, or if you haven't see him for a while he's picking you up and spinning you around.

Eliza: Contrasting Jack, do not hug her. She hate's them, she only tolerates Jack's hugs because he's her brother. If you hug her she'll immediately tense up and make a foul face over your shoulder. She wouldn't turn them down because she doesn't want to be too rude, but she won't enjoy the experience either. If she is the one giving hugs, be prepared for the most awkward half-hug of your life. It's so stiff, and she won't fully embrace into it, she'll keep a respectable distance from you with one arm behind you.

Stephen: I'd say Stephen is huggable, but only from people he knows and likes. He doesn't like that kind of physical contact with strangers, it makes him very uncomfortable. I don't think he's afraid to put up that boundary either. On the other hand, if you know him then he loves to give and receive hugs! he'll always ask first though if you would like one. I think Stephen's hugs would be very soft, barely any pressure applied but still nice and comforting.

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

Eliza: I think the quote that I associate with Eliza the most is from Integra from the Hellsing anime (prime inspiration back in the day) the quote is: "You want me to roll over like a dog? Give up, and accept defeat.. Ha! That seems to be the sort of language that your kind is used to using. Language for cowards who forfeited their humanity, because they were too weak to survive as such. Don’t look down on humans, you monsters. Come on. I’ll send you all to hell." that quote does a good job of summing her early character really, she's changed a lot since then but I'll still always think of her when I hear this.

Jack: for Jack the lyric I'd associate with him is: "I'm a peace-loving decoy, ready for retaliation" from Dirty Harry by Gorillaz, again I feel like that does a good job of summing up his character! Jack prefers to talk out his problems with other people rather than get violent, but don't mistake that for him being unable to do so. (that's how I interpret that lyric anyway)

Stephen: the lyric I'd associate with him is: "Welcome to my world (My only world) It is full of Space Junk But your words are getting through I'm riding on the Space Junk and It's bringing me to you Bringing me to you" from Space Junk by Wang Chung, just captures his feelings up waking up in this now destroyed world, but also seeing the beauty and value in this destroyed world.

[stuckonvenus]

Look At Us Now

I DON’T REALLY KNOW RIDLEY ALBRIGHT. But we went to the same high school, shared teachers throughout the years, classes, clubs, etc., etc., and despite being a drug addict — he’s reportedly an excellent guitar player. I’m the lead guitar, of course, because that’s how it was in my old band before my bandmates decided to ditch town after graduation a year ago and didn’t look back. Not that I blame them, I only wish they would’ve brought me along. Anyway, all of this has led me to the doorstep of a guy I hardly know on an entirely different part of town than I’ve come from. All the houses are fenced-in and have security cameras installed, much more higher tech than the ones attached to the mobile homes in the trailer park I’ve been living in since junior year, and their grass is finely cut and treated better than anywhere else I’ve seen in town. How does a dope fiend live so lavishly? I ask myself, before I think, his mother probably doesn’t know. And I'm right about that much, because whenever I approach the door and knock, scraping the bottoms of the same Converse I’ve owned since I was fifteen, she seems surprised someone like me is on their side of the tracks. I ask her if Ridley’s home and she’s hesitant to answer, but eventually relents and says he’s upstairs. I walk through the threshold and breathe in the warm scent of cinnamon and clove emanating from the living room, which is minimally decorated but still looks lived in. So maybe they are real people, and not robots that are simulating human existence. I thank her for letting me in and trot upstairs, following the sound of a distant guitar until I reach a door with a STOP sign mounted on it. It reminds me of the room I share with Gabe, where we’ve decked it out with every warning poster we could find at the thrift store. It’s kind of funny, his older brother has the same design choice on his door, and he’s twenty-five. I guess guys never really do change if they can help it.

I knock on the door twice, but the guitar doesn’t come to a halt. The sound echoes and I can hear a faint voice singing along, albeit off-key, however it’s not excruciating to listen to. I press my ear up against the door and close my eyes. I nod along to the beat he’s playing to. I know the song, I just can’t quite put my finger on from where. Maybe one of Gabe’s dad’s old, abandoned vinyl records that we put on when we want to drown out the rest of the world when we’re doing our homework or talking nonsense at each other. Whenever I snap out of it, I knock louder, and I can hear the screech of the amp and a bit of shuffling before the door is swung open and a lanky kid, still a little more built than me, in a Joy Division shirt and sweatpants stares down at me with deep brown eyes.

“... Can I help you?” Ridley asks. He seems a little twitchy. I wonder if he keeps his dope kits in his room, or if he solely participates outside his perfect dreamhouse. Probably won’t do me any good to ask him that.

So instead, I say, “I’m Ellie Mercer. We used to go to school together. At Thomas Jefferson?” There are two kinds of kids in Richmond — kids that went to Thomas Jefferson like normal people, and kids that went to Open. Despite his reputation in debate club and soccer, I’m really glad I’m not speaking to one of the latter variety. “I was two years under you.”

“Oh,” Ridley says as his brows knit together while he scans my face for any familiarity. When nothing sparks behind his eyes, he still opens his door for me to come in. “Right, yeah. What’s up?”

I look around his bedroom. There’s a full-size bed underneath an open window, a desk pushed into a corner with drawings tacked above it; a lamp looming over a couple journals, pencils of differing utility in a cup, and a suspicious looking lunchbox. There’s also a couple of band posters taped to the muted blue walls, like The Smiths (Morrissey is a fucking asshole, but he makes good music, much like most musicians — not us, though), Slowdive, and Deftones. I think he’s got a decent taste in 80s male manipulator music, which should be a red flag, then I remember I kind of worship David Bowie and even though he’s technically a queer icon, he’s also on the roster of the countless men in the industry who were total pervs.

“I’m in a band,” I tell him and he immediately seems disconnected from everything I’m saying, or am about to say. “It’s not like that. We’re really cool, except, well — our rhythm guitarist dipped and, y’know, we need one of those.”

His eyes dart around his room for a moment before he begins retreating to where his guitar is. I give it a once over; looks like a Fender Strat, which is fine, even if I prefer my Gibson Les Paul. “I don’t really do bands.” he says in return, scratching the back of his neck. A bead of sweat glistens on his temple. Is he sweating out a high or something? I wouldn’t know much about the heavier kind of stuff, I’ve only ever screwed around with weed and coke, if I tried anything more than that Gabe would probably strangle me in my sleep. Not that I’d mind. If anyone was going to murder me, might as well be him.

“Yeah, I get that. But we’re different.” I insist much to his disgruntlement. I don’t care, I’ll stay as long as I need, hold a fucking protest here if I need to. He sounded good. But I can’t make it obvious that we need him more than he needs us, not at first anyway.

“What’s your damage, then?” Ridley wonders, crossing his arms in a condescending fashion that I don’t entirely appreciate.

I clear my throat. “We’re garage rock at the moment,” I answer after a beat passes. He doesn’t seem totally tuned out yet. “Kind of punk? Still figuring that out. It’s me and my best friend, he’s the drummer. Gabe Lahey?” The name seems to snag on something in his brain, because his eyebrows lift and he suddenly looks enlightened. “The quarterback, yeah. He’s really into tacklin’ dudes and smashing drums. Oh, and our bassist, Cisco, but he’s kind of an asshole.”

He hums, and I take that as an initiative to keep talking. “We’re called The Missing,” I continue. “I’m the singer and lead guitar. I brought some of our songs.” I reach into my backpack, fumbling around with its innards before I grasp onto a crumpled piece of paper that I wrote REDROOM on. It’s our oldest song, and currently the only one on any streaming platform. It’s gotten a decent amount of attention on Soundcloud, and a humbling amount on YouTube. I tell Ridley this as his eyes scan over the words and the accompanying chords.

“You wrote this?” Ridley glances up at me. I nod at him affirmatively. “Huh. I guess you’re really into grunge.”

“Kind of,” I reply. “... A lot, yeah. Is it obvious?”

“A lot, yeah,” he mimics me with a snort. I like to think I have enough creative liberty to not copy and paste everything Kurt Cobain ever wrote, but, well, the music bleeds how it bleeds. I’m afraid if I say that to him, though, he’ll mock me even more for it. “It isn’t bad, though.” I perk up whenever he says this. “I dunno if I have time for a band, still. I’m in college and shit.”

I accept the paper whenever he hands it back over to me, carefully shoving it back into my backpack and zipping it up. Gabe will probably ream my ass later for not being more careful, but I have a better memory than he does on my meds so I can just copy it from memory whenever I want. “We’ll be in college in a couple months too. Unless... This goes well.” I motion between us, and he must think I have massive balls or something to already be suggesting he’s a part of the band, as a crackhead and all.

“My girlfriend would be pissed,” he adds. Now it’s my turn to snort and act all cocksure.

“She use your dick and balls as a gear shift or something?” I ask him and he pales a little. It’s satisfying. “If she’s a real one, she’d appreciate that you’re getting out there. And once we blow up she’ll really be impressed.”

Ridley doesn’t seem convinced at first. He eyes me, then my backpack, then the lunchbox on his desk, and whenever I don’t seem to disappear like a figment of his imagination, he realizes he actually has to respond to me. “... I have a sister,” he says after a couple of seconds of silence. “She likes to sing. If she’s in, I’m in.”

I stare at him. Another singer? We don’t have the fucking room for that, I want to say, but then I quickly comprehend that this is a business deal. And he’s been negotiating with people for much longer than I have, at least in a semi-professional setting. Still, should that make me shit my pants or something? I can just say no and figure out an alternate deal to get him to join. Then I think... What’s the harm in sharing the mic? If my dad were still around, he’d probably tell me to loosen up and stop being such a dude about it, because it’s already my band and I’ve had so much of the limited spotlight we’ve been offered. Rather than respond, I move across the room and scribble mine and Gabe’s address on the front of one of his journals in red sharpie, just so he can’t forget, and before I leave I tell him to come by before the end of the week if he’s seriously interested.

•

Wouldn’t you know. He actually shows up. His sister in tow, of course, which doesn’t surprise me but Gabe seems defensive at first from where he’s sat behind the drums. I give him an assuring pat on the shoulder that makes him bristle, and I roll my eyes. He’s so weird about that. Him and Becca have been broken up for three months already and he still doesn’t think I’ve caught onto the fact that Cisco got to him before I did. We’d basically been circling him like vultures for years, and I can’t say I’m totally cool with the fact he won. Not that Gabe’s a prize or anything — but shit, losing to our bassist in any capacity is a blow that lands low. Like, directly on my groin. Metaphorically and physically.

“Can you read sheet music?” I ask her before anything else and she seems caught off guard by the question.

“This is Manon,” Ridley introduces rather than acknowledge my question at first. “She’s only a year above you two. And she likes other kind of music.”

I can’t help but frown at him. “... Well, why’d you bring her here, then? Our music is our music.”

“Just give her the mic, okay? Let me see that,” he reaches a tanned arm out to snatch the sheet music from my hands, analyzing it while I nod to Cisco and he adorns a grin while plugging in the microphone and bringing it front and center.

I turn my head to look at Manon. “What kind of music do you like, then?”

She shuffles in place, her hands fumbling together awkwardly as she avoids eye contact with me. “U-Um, I don’t r-really know how to... D-Describe it.” she stutters out. Oh, fucking great. She can’t even speak correctly and I’m meant to trust her with a mic? Maybe Gabe was right, and that whole family does have a drug empire that they funnel through their kids. “Can I-I just sing?”

A couple seconds later, Cisco passes by me and hands her the mic with a charming smile that I wish I could punch off his face without worrying about the consequences, which would likely detail in me ending up bloodied and bruised. I step aside to where Ridley is, notice he’s taken the liberty of looking through the rest of our music catalogue, and find myself a little relieved in that, at least. Whenever he sees that we’re actually giving her a shot he straightens up and gives her a reassuring smile before handing us the unnamed sheet music. It doesn’t take me long to note that it’s a duet, so I step up to the mic beside her after slinging my guitar over my shoulder.

The intro starts in a flare of drums and guitar, and I begrudgingly nod along to Cisco’s bass before she opens her mouth and begins to sing.

“Baby, you come knockin’ on my front door, same old line you used to use before, and I said, yeah, well what am I supposed to do?” Fleetwood motherfuckin’ Mac. And she doesn’t sound terrible at all, she doesn’t trip up over any of the words. “I didn’t know what I was gettin’ into, so you’ve had a little trouble in town, now you’re draggin’ my demons down.”

I chime in with stop draggin’ my, stop draggin’ my, stop draggin’ my heart around, and I can see Cisco’s shit-eating grin in my peripheral and become quickly distracted again by the music before I can feel anything about it. I can’t fault him. We sound good together, better than we ever have, actually. I used to think I’d have trouble sharing the spotlight — seemingly that isn’t the case at all.

When the song is over and we all glance up from where we were focused on our instruments, I look to Manon, who seems bashful and reserved again despite mere moments ago flourishing within the electric high that all music gives to true artists. “... That was good,” I tell her.

“T-Thank you,” she bows her head down and focuses on her fumbling hands again.

“So, gang,” Ridley finally speaks up as he walks over, his cadence much friendlier than before as he holds up the sheet music to REDROOM. “I think we’re gonna need to make a couple changes.”

[tennessoui]

miss kit you’re KILLING me!!!! THEY DONT EVEN KNOW EACHOTHEES NAMES YET??!??!???

(this is in reference to the office au aka there was only one desk au)

(and this is a ficlet for the office au aka there was only one desk au)

(2.7k)

Obi-Wan stares without blinking at the wilted potted plant in front of him. A bright purple sticky-note is attached to the healthiest leaf.

Sorry, I meant to water these plants, it says, only I couldn’t decide if they needed tap water or filter water and the indecision paralyzed me into inaction. Your miniature zen garden didn’t help as I hate sand.

“Do you think I can put a hit out on someone I don’t know the first name of?” He asks, dropping into his seat and tearing the offending sticky-note off the leaf. “If I know approximately where he’ll be every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday?”

“How approximately is approximately?” Quin asks gamely, spinning around in his desk chair.

“Hardly at all. He’ll be in this chair from nine in the morning to five at night unless he’s the type of employee to skive off early and work from his phone for the last few hours of every day. Which he seems like he is.”

“A conclusion you came to based on a few post-it notes on your shared desk.”

“Look! There are crumbs!” Obi-Wan huffs, scattering the offending crumbs off his desk. “He’s a slob, Quin! Trade desk partners with me.”

“Not on your life, Kenobi,” Quinlan laughs, turning back to his own dual screens. “Aayla is an angel, and I watched Skywalker crumble up an old saltine cracker from the communal kitchen to leave on your desk five minutes before he left for the day.”

“I am going to set this entire building on fire,” Obi-Wan decides placidly, leaning back into his office chair and powering on the desktop.

“Careful, Kenobi,” his colleague warns, sounding as if he’s only half joking, “Only, I’m sure our cameras record us even when they’re not on.”

Obi-Wan hums. They probably do. He wouldn’t put it past the paranoia of their boss, Sheev.

Thirty-two minutes pass in a blur of answering emails he’d not seen on his work phone in the rush from the airport last night—Obi-Wan flies most weekends to different cities to convince recalcitrant, considering clients to part with their stocks���to his apartment uptown.

There are…many emails.

He pauses halfway through drafting a firmly passive-aggressive dressing down of an intern to turn around in his chair to look at Quinlan. “Vos,” he says, “do you know if Skywalker used the last of those saltines? Are there more?”

“Feeling peckish, are you?” Vos jokes.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan replies, tapping his fingers on the wood of the desk. “Perhaps.”

—

“I’m going to scream,” Anakin relays to Vos calmly, messenger bag hanging loosely off his elbow. He’d been half through the well-practiced motion of shrugging it off his shoulder when he’d caught sight of the…gift his deskmate has left him.

Crumbs—infinitesimally small crushed pieces of some sort of food litter his desk. Every single inch of it.

“He stayed late to bribe the janitor into not murdering him,” Vos reports, not looking up from his planner. “And texted me to tell you that if you complain, you’ll only get her in trouble. He sent along a photo of her two kids for me to show you if I thought you needed proper motivation.”

“Isn’t that blackmail?” Anakin questions, sitting cautiously down on the chair. He wouldn’t put it past Kenobi to have taken out half the screws just to make him fall to the ground.

“Just texting,” Vos says vaguely. Anakin scowls. He knew O.W. Kenobi was Vos’ favorite, but to have it confirmed in such a way stings.

He comforts himself with the fact that he knows Kenobi has asked Vos to water his desk plants before even trying to get Anakin to, and the other man had denied the request.

He sets about getting to work. They are paying him. A lot, actually, for how fresh from his master’s degree he is. Computer scientists make a killing in whichever market they enter, and Anakin had decided to go into corporate law.

A killing on top of a killing. Practically a double homicide.

It’s only when he’s getting ready to leave for the day and he leans over to Kenobi’s fucking useless miniature zen garden (to draw the letters F U into the sand with the little rake) that he realizes Kenobi has replaced the sand with finely ground saltine cracker crumbs.

He’s huffing an incredulous laugh before he can stop himself.

One of these days—soon—he should really bring in his wrench and screwdriver. Really fuck with the chair. He’d like to see Kenobi put that mess back together.

—

“Dammit, my flight is delayed,” Obi-Wan tells Vos on a Sunday night. “I won’t make it back into the city in time for work tomorrow.”

“You sound heartbroken,” Vos drawls. Obi-Wan gestures for the bartender to pour him another old fashioned.

“I’ll persevere, don’t worry about me. I’m mostly concerned my plants won’t make it til Wednesday. Do you know if Skywalker watered them on Friday?”

“I do actually have a job to do, you know, I can’t just sit around every day and watch you flirt with each other through office supplies passive-aggressive micromanagement. How you two have the time to crush up a sleeve of crackers or take the screws out from the chair—”

“Skywalker did what?” Obi-Wan exclaims sitting upright on his barstool in indignation.

Vos curses. “I wasn’t actually supposed to tell you that,” he admits. “Skywalker promised me a week’s worth of coffee if I didn’t say anything.”

“Can’t this be classified as attempted murder?” Obi-Wan complains. “I could have been seriously injured! I’ve a bad back already!”

“Sounds like you’re just mad you didn’t think about it,” Vos points out.

“I’m absolutely furious,” Obi-Wan agrees with a huff. “Though I doubt I’d have the skill to pull it off. Skywalker is very into…tinkering, given all the scrap metal bits he keeps in the bottom drawer of our filing cabinet.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, your flight’s delayed so it’s not like you’ll actually fall for the prank,” Vos commiserates.

Obi-Wan hums and takes a sip of his drink. A wicked idea comes to him. He shouldn’t. He’s not actually a boy anymore, and fucking with his deskmate should not bring him such unrestrained joy.

But it does.

“Vos, what if I were to bring you coffee for two weeks?”

“I’m not going to water your damn plants, Obi-Wan, it’s the principle of the thing now,” Vos says.

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Really, what had his office plants done to his co-workers to deserve such animosity? Unless they came alive on Tuesdays and Fridays, the days he isn’t in the office, he really doesn’t understand the stubborn hatred.

“No, nothing to do with the damn plants. Just listen.”

—-

Anakin walks into work feeling quite chipper, all things considered. He’d hardly gotten any work done yesterday, too busy imagining Kenobi’s face when he’d sat in his office chair only to have the thing give out underneath him.

He doesn’t even know what Kenobi looks like, but it was so sweet to imagine the man’s shock, surprise, and anger.

“Good morning, Quin!” He chirps as he walks into the section of the floor where his desk is. “How was yesterday?”

“Good,” Vos smirks up at him and Anakin smiles back. This has been a real bonding moment for the both of them, which is good. Feuding with one coworker is fine and even natural. Two or more is just excessive.

He should have really asked Vos to get pictures.

“And here’s your coffee,” he offers the large to-go cup to Vos. “It was mortifying to order.”

“Maybe I’m just more comfortable in my masculinity than you,” Vos replies, taking a huge sip of the sugary monstrosity. “Thanks for the bribe.”

“Thanks for the silence,” Anakin replies with a grin. “How long did it take him to build it back up?”

But Vos has turned away and adjusted the headset over his ears. Huh. Maybe it’s a busy Tuesday. He slings the messenger bag over his head and sets it on the ground before turning to survey the desk with a suspicious eye. Surely Kenobi would not have taken his chair stunt lying down. But nothing seems out of place.

He checks the filing cabinets. Nothing encased in jello, nothing missing or broken in some sort of Hulk-Out rage.

The monitors are fine too, no background changed to something explicit or raunchy. He sits cautiously down at his desk.

Only for his chair to give out from beneath him.

He lands hard on his back with an exclamation of surprise, his head hitting the floor with a faint thud as the chair’s pieces crumble around him. It’s all quite loud, and he can hear people stand to look at the commotion. He’s going to kill Kenobi. And Vos.

From the floor, he looks up at Quinlan with betrayed eyes.

Vos takes another sip of his coffee.

“Oh, yesterday, Kenobi was sick so he didn’t come in,” Quinlan tells him. Anakin sits up with a scowl. “But it turns out I can be bribed into silence two ways.”

“What did he give you?” Anakin demands, standing.

“A show,” Vos replies with a smirk. Anakin scowls harder because now he’s thinking about nameless, faceless Kenobi stripping for a grinning Vos. He hates that idea for a reason he doesn’t want to name or think about.

“I’m not bringing you coffee again,” Anakin tells him.

“That’s fair,” Vos nods magnanimously. “Kenobi is bringing me coffee for the next two weeks, and he’s agreed to attend the next Happy Hour.”

“Not the one tonight?” Anakin checks, aghast. He’s going to the Happy Hour after work and he knows the mere thought of Kenobi’s presence will ruin the event for him.

“He’s sick,” Vos repeats, a twinkle in his eyes. “He can’t make it to this one.”

“Oh thank god,” Anakin mutters. “I already need a drink.”

“First round’s on me,” Vos grins, tossing him something. Anakin catches it on instinct.

It’s the bag of screws.

“But I suggest you take your lunch now to fix that,” the man tells him, before turning back to his own work. Anakin glares at his head. Maybe two feuds isn’t as excessive as he thought.

—

The workday passes slowly, but at least it passes. At five after five, Anakin is the first to stand and stretch. “Vos,” he says, “You owe me a drink.”

“I need to finish this project,” Vos tells him distractedly, bent close to his screen. “If you’re done, go now, and I’ll catch up. Second round’s on me.”

“For me and whoever else cares about being on time,” Anakin stresses, but Vos just waves him away.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as being late to a Happy Hour after work,” he says. “Just go. Thirty minutes, I promise.”

Anakin shrugs and makes his way towards the elevators. He can see a few other coworkers that he vaguely recognizes start to stand and stretch. Normally, Anakin would wait for them, but after this morning—the Chair Incident—he really needs a drink.

He presses the arrow to go down and pulls out his phone to click around mindlessly while he waits.

It isn’t nearly as long as expected. The elevator doors slide open, and Anakin looks up as he’s stepping in.

The most attractive man he’s ever seen in the history of his life moves to the side obligingly. He’s not a man. He’s a gentleman. His red hair shines prettily in the fluorescence of the elevator lighting, and there’s one strand of place that’s rapidly becoming the most important thing in Anakin’s life. Hot Elevator Guy’s eyes crinkle with the polite smile he gives Anakin.

“Going down?” he asks, and his voice is so nice and soothing. Maybe he does audiotapes. Anakin would love to listen to that voice as he goes to sleep.

As he does other things too.

On you? He absolutely doesn’t think about saying.

“Yes, please,” he says. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s thanking him for, and if Hot Elevator Guy’s slight smile and arched eyebrows are any indication, he doesn’t know either.

Two floors pass in silence as Anakin tries not to stare too obviously at Hot Elevator Guy’s hands. They’re long. And big. He wonders if that’s descriptive of…other things…as well.

“Do you work with the law firm?” he blurts out, breaking all rules of elevator etiquette. He needs to stop thinking inappropriate things about this man. So he needs to talk with him.

“Oh, yes,” Hot Elevator Guy replies. HEG for short. “I’ve just recently come back from a trip to Las Vegas for the firm. Coming down from dropping off my receipts with Sheev right now.”

Mr. Palpatine’s office is on the top floor of the building. The firm doesn’t own every floor, only a handful, which is why Anakin has to share a desk with Kenobi in the first place, but Mr. Palpatine has bought office space several floors away, at the very top of the skyscraper. He says it’s for the view, and Anakin believes him. He’s on the tenth floor, and it’s already a nice look out over the city. He can’t imagine what it would be like to have an office on the thirtieth floor.

“They make you give them your receipts in person?” Anakin asks, horrified. He’d never be able to keep track of all those little bits of paper.

“Only for Vegas,” Hot Elevator Guy smirks conspiringly at him. “Every other city I just upload the information to a portal online. But Vegas…they want to make sure I’m not a gambling man, you see.”

“Are you?”

“No,” the man turns his head up to look at him. He isn’t much shorter than Anakin, but there is a difference there. Anakin absolutely loves the difference. “I like sure things.”

The elevator stops on the lobby floor. No! “What about a drinking one?” Anakin asks, near frantically.

Hot Elevator Guy frowns at him. “Do you often accuse people in lifts of alcoholism?”

Anakin flushes with embarrassment, but he can’t give up now. “No, I mean. There’s a happy hour tonight. Right now. For the firm. That’s where I’m going. Are you planning to come as well?”

Hot Elevator Guy purses his lips as he looks at him consideringly. “I haven’t much thought of it,” he admits. “I never go to those sorts of events.”

“I know—” I would have remembered you, Anakin cuts himself off from saying. “I don’t either,” he lies instead. “But my colleague has promised to buy a drink for me and everyone who gets there before him, so….”

“A free drink and pleasant company?” Hot Elevator Guy says, leading the way out of the elevator. For a brief second, his hand presses against Anakin’s lower back as he moves closer to allow someone else to get on the elevator. Anakin feels as if he’s on fire. “How could I possibly say no?”

“If…if you have other plans,” Anakin says, “I mean. It’s only a happy hour.”

“A drink sounds wonderful,” the man interrupts him with a firm nod. “I was only going to go home and pet my cat and water my plants.”

“I love plants,” Anakin lies again, through his teeth. “My desk is covered with them. They bring me so much…joy.”

The man grins at him, crinkles erupting around his blue eyes. He holds out one of the hands Anakin had been intensely studying a minute ago. “My name is Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin,” he replies, taking it with all the care and delicacy that a perfect creature like Obi-Wan deserves. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Obi-Wan squeezes his hand slightly, and his thumb strokes once over the back of Anakin’s knuckles before he lets go. “You as well, Ah-na-kin.”

Anakin shivers and can only hope Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

Oh boy, does he need a drink.

[evening-starlight]

Warm Beer

Taglist is open! Dm or comment to be added.

I’ve decided to put this story on an schedule! Monday, Wednesday, Friday.

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

2

Word Count: 1616

    The hot morning sun beats down on McKenzie's face, causing the sweat it forms to wake her up. She groans and rolls over, turning her back to the window, only to feel a body next to her. The groggy morning feeling is replaced by terror quickly as Kenzie opens her eyes to see who exactly is next to her.

    Her panic dissipates faster than it came when she sees the idiotic blonde boy she loves sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed in John B.'s spare room. Kenzie sits on her elbow and stares down at him, admiring his delicate features that are relaxed.

    It was quite peaceful seeing JJ resting. No other worldly worries settled on his features. He looked, for lack of a better word, beautiful. His eyebrows weren't knitted together in hidden anxiety, and his lips weren't constantly switching between a scowl and his usual playful smirk. The constant shaking of his hands was gone, and the JJ was still for the first time since Kenzie knew him.

    This wasn't the first time they've shared a bed. JJ would sneak into her house after a rough night at home but be gone before she woke up in fear that her father would lock him up for life.

    "You know," JJ says, voice low and gruff, making Kenzie jump slightly. "It's considered rude to stare in many cultures." Kenzie laughs off her embarrassment as JJ opens a single eye to look at her, accompanied with his signature smirk. "C'mere," He says again, pulling Kenzie down into his chest.

    "Well, good morning to you too, JJ." Kenzie laughs, snuggling closer to the bare-chested boy. The warm beers from last night return with a slight vengeance, causing Kenzie's stomach to feel icky and growl. JJ holds onto her tighter, nestling his nose into her messy bedhead. "I should get home soon," She sighs, but making no move to get away from the affectionate JJ.

    "Five more minutes," JJ mumbles, positioning himself, so McKenzie was practically trapped under his body weight. She giggles and allows him the five minutes. Which slowly turns into five more and into an hour. JJ nods back into sleep, snoring softly in Kenzie's ear while she lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how long sour beer took to get out of your system.

    There's a soft knock on the door, John B. entering soon after with bleary eyes and no shirt. He smiles when seeing the predicament Kenzie is in, JJ laying three-quarters on top of her with his mouth agape next to her ear. "Shut up, John B.," She mumbles, motioning to her phone that's just out of reach on the nightstand. "And pass me my phone, please."

    John B. walks around the bed quietly and passes the girl her phone, smirking the entire time. "You look comfortable," He comments, standing next to her side of the bed.

    "You try being trapped under a teenage boy who hasn't showered in a week and reeks of booze and make it comfortable," Kenzie comments, turning her attention to her phone with multiple messages from her father, telling her she needs to at least be home by five for dinner that night and if he finds her in the jail cells, she'll be grounded for life. "Looks like you're stuck with me all day, Pouge. Dad's in office and wants me home by five."

    "Yeah," JJ cheers tiredly, shuffling slightly on top of his best friend.

     "Mornin' sleeping beauty," John B. Jokes, making his way out of the room. "Kie brought breakfast from the Wreck." At the mention of food, JJ jolts up and follows John B. out of the room. Kenzie shuffles along, adjusting her tank top that JJ messed with while sleeping on top of her.

    "Dude, I only drank half a beer last night, but my stomach won't stop hurting," Kenzie complains as she stacks a paper plate full of breakfast foods. "Probably because somebody didn't bring the ice like he was supposed to," She sends a pointed look towards JJ, who just huffs with a roll of his eyes from the couch as he shovels food into his mouth.

    "To be fair, my stomachs been buggin' since then too," JJ comments, shrugging his shoulders like everyone else was feeling the same thing. The group agrees it was only JJ and Kenzie who felt these things. McKenzie takes a seat next to JJ, bumping shoulders.

    Breakfast flies by, everyone is famished after a night of partying. They agree a day on HMS Pouge would be a perfect idea. "I just need to head home and get my suit," Kenzie informs, grabbing JJ's plate as she heads into the kitchen to clean up their mess.

    "Great. Can you pick up ice along the way? You can take the Twinkie," John B. asks, already tossing her the keys to the van. Kenzie agrees as she heads to the guest room, trying to find her shoes and phone.

    JJ follows her, wanting to change into board shorts and a tank from the drawer he has in the house. "Want me to come with you?" He asks, pulling on his pants and shirt while Kenzie has her back turned. "I know you get ever so lonely without your favorite Pouge," He jokes, leaning his head on Kenzie's shoulder, smirking widely when she gives him a side-eye.

    "More like I don't want you causing trouble without me," Kenzie says, pulling her Vans on. JJ laughs with her and follows her out of the house, going on about his plans on the boat. He continues to blab as they pull up to the deputy's house, talking with his hands.

    JJ jumps when he hears someone yelling 'hey' at the two, looking around like a Kook was coming to kick his ass. "Hi, Dad. Just coming to change. We're going to the marsh," Kenzie informs, looking at the doorbell with an attitude.

    "Your dad can see us?" JJ asks, looking over McKenzie's shoulder at the offending doorbell, which happened to have a camera attached.

    "Sure can, Maybank. So don't try anything; I'll be watching," Shoupe says through the cam. He had gotten the motion detection alert and, being bored at work, decided to spy on his neighbors.

    "Be nice, Dad. I'll be out of here quick," Kenzie rolls her eyes, flipping off the camera as she enters the house. JJ salutes the camera with a mischievous smirk before closing the door behind him. "Would you get some sodas from the garage, J? I don't feel like drinking too much after your mishap last night." JJ groans and throws his head back in anguish.

    "It was one time, Ken," He calls through the house as she runs upstairs to change. JJ does as he was asked, grabbing a six-pack of ginger ale for their stomachs and Kenzie's favorite Dr. Pepper.

    JJ glances up the stairs when he hears Kenzie skipping down them, pulling her shirt down her flawlessly tanned torso. The warm beers make an appearance again, making JJ's stomach churn. "Got the goods?" She asks, smiling brightly at her best friend. He holds them up with a faint smile and leads her out of the house. Kenzie grabs a backpack off the hooks hiding behind the front door and follows behind.

    The Pouge Bag, as Kenzie called it, holds everything she would ever need with the delinquents. Sunscreen, pain pills, tums, and a first aid kit, along with snacks and bottled waters for everyone. Kenzie had become the mom of the friend group, always looking out for them as if they were her family.

    McKenzie waits in the van as JJ runs inside the corner shop to get ice, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly as the van blows cool air on her. A movement to her left causes her to glance up, slowly lowering her sunglasses as she watches the young man pull two bags of ice out of the freezer.

    Has JJ always looked like that? Muscular and hot? His biceps bulge as he carries the ice towards the back of the Twinkie, smirking as he catches Kenzie practically drooling over him. JJ tosses the bags in the back carelessly, smiling up at McKenzie. "You got a little drool right there, Ken," JJ jokes, wiping the corner of his mouth.

    "I wasn't drooling, dumbass. I was making sure you got the ice to the van, unlike last time," JJ flips her off and hops in the passenger seat.

    On the boat, JJ can't tear his eyes from Kenzie, who stripped to her bikini top and shorts and was dancing with John B. to the songs on the radio. The way her teeth catch the sunlight and brighten her already perfect smile makes JJ's stomach lurch, and the way the sweat drips down her chest causes his to tighten.

    He stares down at the beer in his hand accusingly, like that was the cause for the fluttering feeling in his stomach. Maybe the beers were expired because the condensation on the side shows it's cold.

    "Everything okay over there, JJ?" Kie asks, eyeing her friend suspiciously. JJ nods, holding up the beer slightly.

    "Making me sick again," He explains shortly, which causes Kenzie to pull away from John B. and put her hand to JJ's forehead. He stares into her eyes, the icky feeling growing quickly.

    "You don't feel hot, hun. Drink some water," She insists, already passing him one from her backpack. JJ's eyes don't leave her, absolutely memorized by the way she so delicately takes care of him. He's so enchanted by her that he misses the knowing look between his friends.

Taglist: @gwenlovesharrystyles​

[summonerscenarios]

Can I ask for a scenario where MC finds and takes care of a stray cat and brings it around with him causing some of the other feline transients(tezcatlipoca, macan, nomad, and sitri) to become jealous because the cat is possessive of MC and is getting attention. On another note thank you for creating this blog, it really is nice for you to continue doing something like this for others to enjoy and i hope you are enjoying it as well. (P.S, agyo probably glares at the cat from behind the couch)

I WAS SO WORRIED THAT I’D LOST THIS BECAUSE I SWEAR I ALMOST COULDN’T FIND IT BUT HERE IT IS!!! Thank you so much for liking my blog I’m having so much fun with it!! And I hope other people are having as much with it as well~! 

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Tezcatlipoca

Honestly, you’re starting to get pretty fed up with how many times Tez tries breaking into your dorm through the window when you’ve got a perfectly good door to use (especially because you gave him a key, dammit). It’s something about ‘stealth’ or ‘a surprise attack’ but it’s seriously starting to grate on your nerves; so when you decide to bring the stray who you’ve been feeding and taking care of for the past few months home with you, you decide that the jaguar can find out about the new arrival the next time he tries to make an ‘impromptu visit’ in the middle of the night.

And sure enough that’s exactly how he gets to meet your cat. Usually the loud declaration he makes as he bursts through your (thankfully open) window is what wakes you up from your slumber, but this time it’s the sound of your cat hissing up a storm as it leaps from your bed to confront the ‘intruder’ while he’s half-way through the window. It’s enough of a surprise to Tez that the therian slides right off of the frame and hits the floor loud enough that you feel bad for the person living on the first floor. However, he’s quick to recover, and by the time you’re out of bed you’re standing between the two trying to get Tez to at least lower his voice before he wakes the neighbors as he glares over your shoulder at the protective feline, the latter of which purrs and rubs against your legs vying for your attention.

That should have been your first sign that things were going to be tense between the two, but you didn’t actually think that Tezcatlipoca would get jealous of your new kitty just because it was a tiny bit attached to you. Little do you know from that point forward what ensues is a full out war between the therian and your cat. Perhaps its due to the fact you’re so doting, or just because you feed it and give it a place to sleep, but your cat is ridiculously attached to you, but Tezcatlipoca isn’t about to let a possessive stray take up the space at his brother’s side that Tez had waiting so long to reclaim - if it’s a battle for you that this little kit wants, then he is more than prepared to show it who your true favorite is. Tez gets increasingly more petty in his attempts to lure your attention away from the cat, and considering that he’s pretty adept with tactics you’d imagine this would be fairly easy but it isn’t.

Tez tries to get a moment alone with you by closing the door behind him before the cat can enter, and not two minutes later it’s pawing at the door and meowing so loud that you hurry over to the door to let it in and warn Tez to check next time. He also attempts to pawn the cat off onto his subordinates for a few hours under the guise of a play-date and to get the cat used to company; and yet that plan backfires spectacularly when you start getting pictures of its ‘playdate’. Group photos of the Luchadores all fawning over your cat and giving it treats alongside videos of them jumping around and letting it leap between them as they perform - it’s clear that the feline has successfully won them over just as it had with you, and you’re soon distracted cooing over the messages much to the therian’s growing frustration.

The lightbulb finally goes off when you catch Tez glaring at the cat when he thinks you’re not looking like he’s trying to convey the words he can’t say to the little feline due to your presence. You’re laying with your back on the floor as the kitty drapes across your chest, hands running through its fur and rubbing its ears as you coo and shower the cat in affection and praises. Your cat is absolutely loving the affection, purring hard enough that it’s practically rumbling as it stretches out and pads at your face with its paws; Tez on the other hand is staring the cat down like it’s going to claw your face off and he’s just waiting for the moment to jump in and intervene. When you tilt your head back to look at him you catch his expression before he notices you’ve spotted him; you ask him what’s got him so miffed, but in the split second it takes for him to look in the opposite direction and insist nothing’s amiss you look between him, the cat, then him, then the cat again.

Then it clicks.

“Tez, you’re not...jealous are you?”

His reaction is just too good - the lack of verbal response makes you lift the cat off of you so that you can safely roll over and look directly at him, taking in the lowered ears and ruffled feathers as he looks away from you. Assuming that he’s just feeling left out with the attention you shuffle over to where he’s sitting and apologize for not giving him some time too in a cooing hum that’s pretty similar to the tone you use when you’re coddling the cat. He goes to complain, but the moment you lean over to start scritching a spot right behind his ears he chokes on the words, expression tensing for the brief moment it takes him to realize what you’re doing to him. 

Tezcatlipoca grumbles about underhanded tactics and how he won’t fall for them so easily even as he tilts his head up with a noise akin to a deep purr when you move your free hand to scratch just under his chin. At the forefront of your affection Tez almost has to laugh in triumph - of course you may lavish the little fluffy kit you’ve taken in with affection and praise, but you’ll always end up pouring your attention back onto him when it really counts. You’re pretty sure you catch his tail flickering languidly out of the corner of your eye as you pet him, but you don’t bring it up when it brushes up against your legs as you shuffle around to get a better angle to fuss him with. If the cat doesn’t try to make too much of a fuss and he keeps receiving your undivided attention like this, then Tez supposes that he can allow this kind of arrangement…

That is until the moment is interrupted when your cat promptly shoves itself between the two of you and turns it’s back to Tez so that you have to pull your hands away to look down at it. And just like that it’s back to square one, with Tez glaring daggers as the feline has the audacity to use his leg as height leverage to nuzzle its way into your arms, effectively regaining your attention as you turn back to fussing the cat - completely oblivious to the pointed stare-down the pair share when you’re not looking.

Macan

Taking in a stray for the first time you’d worried a lot about it wandering off or losing interest if it went outside, and the stories you had heard only heightened the worries you had about owning a cat. Turns out you didn’t have to worry at all, as the feline sticks to your side everywhere you go, even following you to school and sneaking its way into your classes even when you were sure you closed your dorm door - it was a running gag that where you went your new fluffy buddy was sure to follow, and it significantly eased your concerns as you gained a little more confident about taking it out with you. It even came with you when you went out to see friends, dropping by on the Berserker’s guild to catch up with your allies with your fuzzy companion in tow. Granted, it did in fact wander off from time to time, but rarely ever out of your direct line of sight. However, this time when you pull yourself away from a conversation with Andvari about merch revenue to check on your cat who’d been perched on the counter, only to find it missing from its spot and not in direct sight, you begin to panic. The main floor is thankfully empty of most of the visitors, with most people in the arena watching one of the fights and leaving the space mostly clear, but you still end up running circles around the room looking for the cat in question. Eventually, a familiar mewl catches your attention, followed by a sharp hiss and a growl that you recognize and you slide around the corner the moment you hear it.

Then you spot your cat, latched onto the Macan’s snout with both bearing their teeth and you nearly scream as you bolt over to pry the two felines away from each other. It takes a while to separate your cat and Macan, and you’re honestly flabbergasted that your kitty had such a wild reaction when up until this point you’d never had any of these problems before. Macan at least doesn’t seem entirely fussed about the sudden outburst - if anything he seems a bit entertained that your cat had the guts enough to try anything - but you still make a point to make sure his nose is okay, checking for any lasting claw marks as you apologize over and over.

From that point forward, it doesn’t take a genius to piece together that Macan and your kitty don’t entirely get along...well, that’s not exactly true. In the times where you’re doing your own thing and not focusing on the two of them, you notice that your cat has little qualms with sidling up to the bulky tiger therian and lounging all over him, and Macan doesn’t even shrug it off or push it away whenever the furball trots up to him looking for attention. It’s bizarre seeking the two of them actually getting along with each other, though you do have to laugh at how easily Macan’s able to pull your cat away when it starts getting too playful with his tail - it almost makes you wish you had a camera so that you could save these snippets. 

However, those moments only last about as long as it takes for either of them to notice that you’re paying attention; then your cat’s racing me over to your side kicking up a fuss until you relent and give the feline some well deserved pets. You honestly don’t know who’s more attached to you - as when your cat comes to curl up on your lap, meowing and pawing for your attention, chances are Macan’s right there alongside it, leaning up against your back and resting his head atop yours nosing in on whatever you’re doing. It’s cute, but frustrating when this happens right as you’re in the middle of doing something important - and yet you don’t have the heart to get either of the cats to budge.  (not that either of them actually would - you’ve now got two stubborn felines to deal with in your life, hope you’re ready.)

Nomad

Taking in a stray wasn’t your initial plan, but you definitely don’t regret it. You always came across the same cat on your way to and from school, and while you’d only stop for the occasional fuss and to give it some treats if you carried some with you, it didn’t take long before it started travelling with you as you made the walk. And then one day you got back to your home and the cat just...stuck around - and needless to say you just didn’t have the heart at that point to not take the cat in; how could you not? The fluffy feline needed a place to stay, and you were more than happy to have a new roommate in the form of the tiny cat. It takes a lot of trial and error to ease your new pet into its new life, taking your time to get it used to being around some of your friends so that it feels more comfortable coming over - and honestly, things go a lot better than you expected. Your cat warms up to just about everyone you’ve introduced easily, going in for pets or at least giving them a curious sniff before deciding whether it likes them or not; seeing how well it gets along with everybody you’ve introduced so far, you thought it was high time to introduce it to your favorite tiger detective - after all, you’re sure they’d get along just fine, right?

Your way of ‘introducing’ Nomad to your new kitty isn’t so much an introduction as it is you quite literally plopping the cat right into his lap the moment he sits down, looking up at him with an excitable smile and kneeling down beside him as you present the small cat to the exceptionally bigger cat. Your cat and him share a look, and you just about melt watching it purr and nuzzle up against Nomad’s jacket like you’ve seen it do with some of your other friends before - it looks like it’s taken a shine to him, which is honestly incredibly relieving after the initial worry that this introduction wasn't going to go as well as you’d hoped. What makes you even happier is that Nomad doesn’t seem to mind the cat either, leaning a hand down to give the kitty headpats as it preens and purrs under the action.

But then you turn away for a moment to check something on your phone, being pulled away by a message, and in that split second that you shift around to check your cat does a complete 180, just about hitting him square in the chest as it whips around and hops off of his lap to trot over to your side, meowing all the way until you turn around and focus your attention back onto him. What seals the deal is the warning noise that your cat makes as it turns back to face him, slinking into your lap with a pointedly sharp stare before it turns its attention back to you.

It’s not exactly jealousy, per se, because Nomad’s been around the block long enough to not get hung up over you doting over your cat and giving it a lot of your attention - though at the same time he gets pretty embarrassed realizing that what he does get hung up on is the fact that most of your attention is pulled away from him when you are together. When he realizes that’s what’s got him upset, the therian wants to just about kick himself for sounding like a damn kid about it, and he’s not about to go around admitting it out loud, so you’re gonna have to figure that out on your own.

What’s more, Nomad’s fully prepared to just cut his losses and accept that him and the cat just aren’t gonna get along, and he would if it wasn’t for the fact that this same cat was so damn affectionate when you weren’t around. Without fail, whenever you go out to run errands and he’s stuck with the cat it’ll come plodding up to him and flop down into his lap demanding pets and attention. And he falls for it every single time. You can practically see the frustration rolling off of him when you return, and the cat just about claws his head off trying to get to you as soon as possible, leaving Nomad nursing more than a few nicks thanks to the sheer protectiveness the little fluffball possesses when it comes to you.

Sitri

When you’d first brought the stray you’d adopted home it was a learning experience for you. Figuring out what toys to get and what kind of food and bedding to go and buy were just some of the things you needed to get and asap, and you’d been so focused on making sure the little guy was settling in okay and comfy that by the time everything was sorted out you’d pretty much neglected to let everybody know that you were a cat parent now. Once things have calmed down however, you’re eager to show off the fluffy feline to just about everyone and everyone, and who better to show that Sitri? You were planning to meet up with him after school anyways, and you figured if the kitty was going to warm up to anyone, he’d be a pretty good start, right? 

Though perhaps you should have actually let him know that the cat was home when he’d stopped by your dorm room to see if you were ready to go, as while you’re mid-way through tossing a jacket on and grabbing your bag you hear a yelp and Sitri nearly barrels into your back. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but as you spin around you spot your cat dart across the room, and you have to catch the little fluff ball mid-pounce as it aims directly for the poor therian’s tail. Turns out, while you’d been getting ready, the cat had spotted Sitri at the door and had slipped past your feet to investigate the newcomer, only to latch onto Sitri’s tail the moment the flickering had peaked the feline’s interest. A slew of apologies wasn’t how you’d intended to introduce Sitri to your cat, but you really can’t stay mad at the kitty for long when it sticks you with the wide eyes and cuddles into your arms mid-apology, gently butting your jaw with its head.

You just about melt at the action, especially because this is still in the early stages of your cat settling into your home, and the apology quickly filters off into you cooing over the feline as you hold it up for Sitri to see. For a split second Sitri swears that the cat’s glaring at him as it wriggles free and drops back down to your side to curl around your legs, but surely he’s just imagining it, right? Wrong. That cat spends just about every second that he’s there curled protectively right beside you, sticking Sitri with a stare and swatted paw if his shoulder so much as touches yours. It even kicks up a fuss and follows the pair of you out of the door, which ends up with you asking if you can bring it along, which of course he’s not going to say no to. This quickly becomes a regular occurrence, where almost every time the two of you get to hang out your cat comes with you, and it must know it’s damn cute because every time it tags along you and just about everyone else comes over to pet it and give the cat attention.

Sitri absolutely refuses to admit that he’s even a tiny bit jealous of your cat - getting jealous over a cat is super dumb, and Sitri’s not the kind of cool cat who gets hung up watching you fuss and fawn over the cat every single time you’re together...okay, maybe he’s a tiny bit jealous, but it’s not like he’s going to tell you that he is. Instead, he stews with the thoughts for a while, and just kind of puts up with the presence of the cat in favor of hanging out with you, and he’s sure the cat knows because boy does it push the limits of what it can get away with. There was even one instance where Sitri had made the mistake of having his wings out around your cat, and the little ball of fluff just about ripped a few feathers free the moment it caught sight of those bright orange wings. That at least got your attention focused back on him as you’d worried over his wings and checked that he was okay, but Sitri really doesn’t wanna go through something like that just to keep your attention - he’s pretty sure he’d end up losing all of his feathers if he did that.

With that being said this is Sitri, and you’ve known him long enough that you can tell when something’s starting to bug him, and clearly something has been bothering him for a while. You don’t make the connection for a little while, after all while he does get a bit frustrated watching your cat nuzzle into your hands and curl up on your lap, so you’re blissfully unaware. However, after a while you start to realize just how little attention you pay to Sitri when you guys are together, having your attention pulled away by the cat, and you start to think that maybe he’s feeling miffed that you’ve been leaving him out as a result. You can’t say for sure though until you decide to bring the topic up with him, curious to figure out what’s got him so ruffled.

Once you put two and two together he gets notably embarrassed, and you don’t even have to voice your thoughts aloud before Sitri blurts out that he’s 'not jealous!’ automatically jumping in to deny it before you’ve said a word. Seconds later he realizes what he just said and his hands fly to his mouth as though hoping to stuff the words back in but it’s too late. Your jaw drops, but just as quickly you spin around and exclaim “You’re jealous!?”, watching as he flushes. Sitri tries to deny it again, but it’s significantly less convincing when even the tips of his ears are starting to turn pink; soon enough the moment dissolves into you repeating that he’s jealous, sounding more and more amused each time he tries to argue that he swears he’s not. After a while of this though you make sure to assure him that you’re not making fun of him, ruffling his hair as you assure him that as much as you coddle and fuss the fluffy feline you’ll always have time for him - after all you’d be a fool not to remind your friend he’s the number one cool cat, right~? At your words he goes from flustered to groaning at the cheesy remark, but you can tell he’s feeling a bit better about the whole thing, if not still a bit embarrassed over being seen through so easily.

[victorlimadelta]

This operation is supposed to take six hours. Outside of the observation window into the operating room, Pidge has even posted a tentative schedule on a small whiteboard. Pre-procedure time-out no later than 0745, operation begins no later than 0800. By 0830, or at the very latest by 0900, Ulaz should be able to disconnect Shiro’s arm. Depending on how sensitive the next part is, they can test all the command line prompts on the socket that remains by 1000. Then, once that part’s over, the biochemistry part starts: isolating the genome Pidge has created with the Altean molecular synthesizer, hooking it to a CRISPR carrier, testing the insertion point with an Olkari tiara application, and then--then the quintessence wash-out. As far as Pidge can tell, the closest analog is a mixture of dialysis and transfusion, but without the difficulty of using extracorporeal membrane oxygenation at any step. Not like they don't have ECMO, defib, EKG, EMG, and a crash cart readily available, should things go south (because what are they, animals?), but it shouldn’t take any of that to make this work.

First, though, they have to actually get to work.

Pidge pulls out of her carefully-calibrated sleep a little after 0600 and immediately puts herself under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the med bay. This little bit of time she has left is taken up by tech tests, making sure the Olkari tiara is still responding to binary input, waking up the molecular synthesizer, running the last compile on the code they’ll need--but it's all busy work, really, just something to fill the time while she gets coffee in her. (Not the Olkari root juice, she wants something made by humans, for humans, no matter how inefficient it might be.)

She doesn’t need much. She feels better rested than she’s been in weeks; she’ll have to thank Hunk, later, for reminding her to get some sleep. Like she was trying to cram for an exam, or something equally as trivial. (As if she’s ever crammed for an exam a minute of her life.) Still, it gets closer to 0745, and eventually, Ulaz takes Shiro’s cot, moves it into the operating theater.

Shiro’s been in a barbiturate-induced coma for the past few days, but anesthesia is a little different. The pentobarbital doesn't provide any pain relief, just slows brain waves; the transition to propofol isn’t seamless, but it still works well enough. Ulaz just had to tell Pidge that Shiro’s woken up during anesthesia, before, during--during the druid experimentation. Not that the druids cared, but it knocked ketamine right off the table as an option. And the midazolam, this time, should work as an amnesic, so he never remembers even if he does wake. Small mercies, really.

Pidge is managing the transition between states of consciousness, with enough time to get a real feel for it by the time she and Ulaz get through their figurative pre-flight checklist. Correct patient--they’d be here forever if they debated the metaphysics of it, but this man is still intrinsically Shiro, no matter what’s happened to him while they've been in space. Correct procedure: right upper extremity prosthetic removal, right upper extremity amputation stump revision, targeted genomic insertion at the diaphragm, genomic implementation test, and full quintessence flush. Just in case there was any question about the correct site, Pidge marks the cap of Shiro’s right shoulder with a permanent marker, gives him a little freckle and a twin under the left side of his ribcage.

Materials are set aside, too. Yes, there's the standard surgical kit, lancets and retractors and forceps, but there's also a set of trocars, one for camera placement, one for tissue manipulation--that’s for the diaphragm, less traumatic abdominal entry. A set of eyeglasses screwdrivers with miniature flat, Philips, and hex heads, needle-nose pliers, and thermal paste, for operating on the prosthetic. Pidge tries not to touch it all before she snaps a set of nitrile gloves on her hands.

0759.

Pidge cracks her knuckles.

0800.

“let’s get started.”

Ulaz starts by prying apart the near-invisible seams near Shiro’s shoulder joint, exposing the wires hooking the neural interface together. Separating the prosthetic is the easy part; disconnecting it from his brain is, as he explained, a lot more difficult. It really is like perfoming the amputation on him all over again, and this part needs to be done carefully so he retains as much function as possible.

Of course, the prosthetic isn’t exactly cooperative. Having been poisoned with druid quintessence, it’s occasionally outside of its master’s control. Even with anesthetic, the limb has its own programming, and trying to keep it (nonsensically) calm as it’s disconnected is a struggle--why it has to be done slowly, methodically. Every so often Shiro’s brows will twitch together, or his mouth will fall open, and Pidge panics that he’s stirring from anesthesia, but no, his vitals are still stable. Weak, but stable. If he were awake, would this cause as much pain as the original amputation, or is there a way to engage his circuit dampeners from the cap?

She’s going to have to replace her gloves if she does this, but Pidge doesn’t care. Doesn’t care if Shiro’s insensate, amnesiac, not present. His forelock, where it hangs over his forehead, is limp; Pidge pushes it back, runs her thumbprint over his hairline. It makes no change in the constant read-out of the blood pressure monitor, the constant blip of the real-time EKG, but she’d like to think it edges up his O2 saturation a little. A white lie she tells herself, to get through this.

0820. “sitrep.”

“Forty-seven percent complete with detachment,” Ulaz tells her, like he reports to her. Like she’s running the show. Which, she is, isn’t she. This is her responsibility. “At 0830, begin the command line program.”

“right.” It’ll take a few minutes to boot, giving Ulaz enough time to get the metal endcap exposed before they start the killswitches. “anesthetic holding.”

“This is your first operation, is it not?”

what gave it away? is Pidge’s reflexive, sarcastic response, one she bites down by literally biting the tip of her own tongue. “yes.”

“Remarkably complex,” Ulaz says, ineffable. His eyes have never left Shiro’s arm plating. “This is not how most residents begin. If at any point you need a break--”

“let me stop you right there.” He doesn’t cease his movements, but he does stop talking. “making shiro’s medications meant sitting in front of that synthesizer and basically concentrating with my entire being for hours at a time while i asked literal atoms to be nice and bond with each other. i can do this.” She can, and she has, before. Just... maybe not with these stakes.

A nearly-imperceptible shrug runs along the Galra’s shoulders. All the while, his fingers have been working steadily at the synthetic nerves keeping the prosthetic functional.

It occurs to Pidge, as she watches these connections be terminated one by one, that Ulaz might have been attempting kindness or mercy or paternalism with her. It’s a poor stand-in for the kind of familial affection she'll accept from the man that’s anesthetized on the table between them, but she can at least recognize it for what it is. Ulaz has been pretty patient with her throughout all this, even as she’s been working herself sick, even as she’s had full-scale shutdowns trying to put this project together over the past week. As a medical officer, he’s a pretty good mentor. She’s just not sure she’d ever be friends with him outside of a strict working environment. She’s... not exactly the kind of person that inspires camaraderie, and she gets the feeling that Ulaz, as a senior Blade and infiltration specialist, is just as private a person as she is.

For now, it doesn’t matter. They work together well. Their professional relationship has actually soldered together, tempered over the past few days, to the point where they’re working this seamlessly during a surgery. While she brings over the Altean-level data-crunching device she’s using for the command prompt termination, she almost asks for another sitrep, but it’s clear that Ulaz doesn’t have much left to go. Pidge connects the nodes to the tiny empty sockets of the shoulder caps where the prosthetic had attached its neural nets, and by the time Ulaz disconnects the last, she’s ready to plug that port.

Dictating for the medical record, “0847, first phase complete. second phase begin?”

"Begin," Ulaz tells her, and she tells her program to execute.

This should theoretically be as simple as watching code print out on a screen, but it’s not really a diagnostic. This is making sure Shiro’s brain isn't sending errant commands to a military-grade weapon attached to his body. Pidge had warned Ulaz, ahead of time, that the prosthetic often seemed to have a mind of his own, and she’s just relieved that he's taking her concern so seriously. Maybe he feels responsible for grafting the original on in the first place? Maybe that's why he’s trying to engineer a replacement that’ll run off of purified, or at least untainted, quintessence.

As this program runs, it sends back error messages. They’re far enough apart that Pidge can read and understand each before the next one comes along, and most have to do with detecting and eliminating threats. She’s seen the arm’s glowing function before, knows it can work as a heat source to create a hull breach in a Galra warship, but according to these readouts, it can also do other things. Form a shield, that’s reasonable, their Paladin armor can do that, too, except his would probably appear as that ghastly Galra magenta-neon instead of Altean blue. Form a blade--that’s new. Apparently it would slide out over the back of his hand, rather than an assassin’s blade from the meat of the inside of the wrist, but given that Shiro mostly uses that right hand for enhanced martial arts, the placement makes a little more sense for his inherent sense of movement.

What strikes fear into her gut, though, is the discovery that the arm had an ion cannon function. Oh, what the hell, Haggar, that was absolutely unnecessary. How much power would that have required? More than the arm could hold, surely? And if it ran off of impure quintessence, that would mean sapping Shiro of his strength every time it was used. For accuracy, he’d also have to be immobile whenever it was fired. From the code, though, she can see that it’s only been deployed a few times, and never at the owner’s insistence, only remote command line prompts. Oh, boy. Oh, wow. That’s not terrifying or anything. Pidge has never been quite so glad that they’re replacing this compromised, tainted thing with one that will complement Shiro’s innate essence, one that can’t be tampered with at a distance by druids, one that doesn’t need to be shut off at the command line because it poses a danger to his friends and loved ones.

Ulaz seems to read it on the screen at the same time Pidge does; a clawed hand points at it from over her shoulder as it scrolls up, then away. “yes, i saw it,” she tells him. It’s dumping the output into a file, she’ll have time to go over it later, but it’s important that she saw when it came out.

“I installed no such function into this prosthetic,” Ulaz says, and he actually sounds... mildly perturbed?

“yeah, well, it's not technically your prosthetic. i wouldn’t be surprised if he got an upgrade.” She can tell Ulaz’s yellow sclera are drilling into the base of her skull, like he could extract the information from her that way, so she gives him a gift: “long story. involves clones. you weren’t involved with that, were you?”

This close, Pidge swears she can hear the wet sound as Ulaz's nictitating membranes force him to blink. “Not technically.” That answer isn’t exactly reassuring, but it's better than nothing. When Pidge looks back to him, his expression is almost as usual, except for a slight wrinkle between his brow ridges. For Ulaz, that’s extreme discomfort. Hm. Something to talk about later.

The prosthetic technically wasn’t the focus here, after all. It just needed to be removed because of unforeseen dangers like... well, that. Imagine having left that arm on while actually trying to perform the operation--it would have killed them. Probably everyone on this ship. (But anesthetic is okay? Apparently? Pidge has so many questions.) The kill program keeps running. “you... do have a replacement for that one,” and she jerks her head at it, “right?”

“In progress.” That’ll have to do. Again, this isn’t about the arm. Having input from Shiro about what he wants it to look like and how he wants it to function will be just as important as relieving his body dysmorphia, after all. “Whatever is built will need to connect to his neural network--to his brain, through this access port.”

Ah. Thus the full sweep. Pidge nods, once, sharp, and keeps scanning the code for anomalies. If Ulaz wrote the code for the first version (the one Sendak said was a piss-poor druid prototype), then she has no doubt he can work with what he’s given here to make the replacement the best it can be.

No other anomalies, although Pidge’s eyes hurt after scanning a screen for that long. Something intrinsic about the muscle cap seems... inert, once they’re done. Function absent. Good. “Your turn,” Ulaz prompts her gently.

“1018, second phase complete, third phase begin,” Pidge dictates for the record, picking up the trocar and lining it up with the mark she left on Shiro’s chest.

There’s a resonating pain in her own ribcage as she drives the surgical tool in, until the camera at the end, inside, shows her that she’s at the center of his diaphragm. She wanted to target this muscle first, because as soon as it can regenerate dystrophin, Shiro can start breathing easier. That’s a brainstem function, one of the last to go, usually autonomous. She doesn’t want him to have to fight to breathe anymore. Second trocar punches in, a few inches off from the first, but the tip of it ends up in the visual field of the first.

She and Ulaz can both see the camera feed on a monitor that's just by the one showing Shiro’s vitals. The other part of this, though, happens on an Altean holographic screen, not unlike the forearm computer Pidge has in her paladin armor. Through the second trocar, she uses a specialized micro-tool to reach deeper into the smooth muscle tissue. This camera, too, has magnification properties far outside of what Terran tech is capable of: electron microscope installation, so she can actually see what she’s doing in manipulating individual cellular molecules.

The smallest possible glass bore needle is at the end of the trocar. It takes an insane amount of precision for Pidge to guide it where she wants it to be, puncturing the cellular membrane and resting in the prokaryotic soup inside for a second before delivering its microliter payload. This is what she was doing last night before she drugged herself to sleep: swirling test tubes, sometimes manually, to make sure that the CRISPR molecule picked up her DNA strand to carry it where she wants it to go.

She has more in reserve if this one fails, and she doesn’t expect the first attempt to be successful. Even if it is, she plans to impregnate a cellular cluster of about a dozen with this gene fix--better chance it’ll hold, and she may as well, while she’s in here. Unfortunately, she took the approach a little too harsh on this one, and just after the injection, it undergoes apoptosis.

Sigh. Another try. She eyes the clock, Shiro’s vitals. Ulaz has control over the anesthesia while she’s working on this. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that they’ve hit a critical point in trying to save Shiro’s life; it’s do-or-die at this point, absolutely literal. All she can do is be patient, and that's among Pidge’s worst skills.

She takes the second approach, on a second cell, a little more oblique. This time, a little bit slower on the plunge, the injection takes, and she watches as the CRISPR bacteriophage splits open the one chromosome she needs it to, splice in the gene she created this past week. That’s... that's incredible. Pidge feels like she might cry; she knows her eyes are doing the sparkle thing, again, that she does when she's this close to incredible technology. She did this. She was the one who figured this out. Even Shiro’s said it, multiple times, if anyone can do it, it’s Pidge. And she did. The proof is right here.

Third one--a repeat of the second attempt. Holy crow, it’s happening. Fourth, another success, wow, look at this. By the fifth, Pidge feels like she’s getting the hang of it, until the delivery molecule installs the DNA backwards--well, quiznak. Waste of work. On the way out, she hooks the nanometer needle into the cellular membrane to kill it, just in case it started getting any ideas.

All in all, it takes her much longer than she’d planned to get this part in place, but, hey. Just like Ulaz said, it’s her first surgery, and she’s doing it with trocars, and minimally invasive tools, on not just a cellular level but a molecular level. At the end, out of about twenty payloads, she ended up with maybe a dozen cells. That’s better than just the one she outlined in her project proposal to Ulaz on Monday.

Now is not the time to start getting smug about her abilities and Shiro’s prognosis, though. Time to see if it actually works. “1159, third phase complete, fourth phase begin.”

From somewhere far outside her laser-focus concentration, she thinks Ulaz might be asking her if she needs a break, something to eat, a pouch of water. Pidge waves him away. She’s on a roll, and she has to finish this now. The tiara from Olkarion finally sits atop her head, and in a strange sort of way, she feels like a queen on her throne, even though it’s just a bunch of twigs and a crystal and she’s sitting on a surgeon’s stool that’s still just a little too tall for her to perch comfortably.

Pidge picks up Shiro’s left hand in her own, holds it close with their thumbs hooked together and their palms flat against the other’s. It’s so strange not to feel him grip back, and only part of it is the anesthesia. He doesn’t... he doesn’t look right. He’s been so sick for so long and only just told her and he let it deteriorate to this level and he-- no. She has to shake her head to stop from digging too deep into those thoughts.

Instead, she reaches out with binary, into what feels like Shiro’s core.

There’s something different about that cell cluster, she can tell before the code of her mind even gets there. Something about her recognizes them as altered. That’s, theoretically, what the quintessence wash is going to fix. What she can do with the tiara, though, is take that little switch that she just implanted, and turn it from off to on. “let’s see what this does,” she mutters, and mentally switches that operator from 0 to 1.

Twenty amino acids a second start compiling, almost faster than Pidge can visually track. It’s like watching a 3D printer, but if it was in someone’s body. The building blocks start making these absolutely beautiful spirals, one after the other, branching out from a stem like a fern unfurling in the sun. The cell is doing what it’s supposed to, but the dystrophin gene is the largest known in the human genome, and the protein it makes is similarly gigantic.

Three minutes. A little more. And then Pidge is looking at a fully-formed, perfect dystrophin protein, all 3,684 amino acids of it. This is the point at which she actually sheds a for-real tear, not even bothering to wipe it or her impossibly bright and broad smile off of her face. It worked, it worked, it worked...

“1203.” Sound off. “fourth stage end, fifth stage begin.”

This is the quintessence wash-out. Theoretically, this will take all the pent-up energy that’s been stored in Shiro’s arm from taking the Castleship offline and pour it back into him, but better. Not tainted with whatever the druids do to manipulate it, but somehow purified, almost to a clinical level. It’s almost undetectable as bioenergy, now. And what they can’t tap out of the arm, they’re taking from the ship, with Allura’s permission, Coran’s engineering, and Hunk’s assistance. It’ll leave them limping until they can replace the main crystal, but full power can wait, so long as the Lions are still operational. This? Can’t.

It’s boring, though. There’s nothing to do. There’s no manual surgery, no injection, no reading code or even watching protein formation. Just... monitoring energy. This is the part of engineering that she hates. The part of life that she hates. It twists her, makes her sour and bitter in turns, because she can’t do anything to drive it forward, because she just has to accept that this is out of her control.

Of course, this gives Pidge and Ulaz a second to take a breather. It’s, a little absurdly, like waiting for a device to charge, and all they’re waiting for is the battery indicator. Yeah, yeah, the quintessence is also picking up the molecular change Pidge made to Shiro’s genome in that little cluster of cells and propagating it through his whole body, core first, then spreading to extremities, but that’s not something she can see or monitor.

Ulaz offers her a bite of whatever food he’s eating. It looks bland, but healthy; from the texture and the sheen under the light, it’s probably some kind of protein, maybe a high-fat meat. Pidge declines and goes back to whatever dried fruit had been set aside for her earlier this week. It tastes like... kind of like if a pineapple and a potato had a child? Sort of stringy, and not overly sweet, but not bad to chew when dehydrated, and she can swear the movement of her jaw helps kick-start her thinking.

This part, Ulaz warned her, will take hours. But the anesthesia is holding. Shiro’s vitals are holding. If Pidge cared to peek in, she could see his cell still building little dystrophins as fast as it can, to make up for all he’s lost over his lifetime. That part, at least, is reassuring. And maybe, just maybe, as the quintessence starts pouring through Shiro, she feels like he’s... glowing? Is that a thing that can happen? Not visually, just... he feels incandescent. Some kind of heretofore unknown radiation? Would a Geiger counter even be able to measure this?

Whatever it is, that hopeful feeling starts resonating in the room, but not without pushing the dread that coalesces around impure quintessence ahead of it. Maybe it’s like air, in that cold air sinks, because it feels like it pools around her feet, like she needs to direct it to go someplace else before it infects the rest of the passengers on the ship. Then again, maybe if it's all of them bearing the burden of this tainted quintessence, maybe it won’t get to all of them at once?

The crystal is meant to be the filter. It’s meant to kill the ship's power, basically. Directing it back to the crystal, though, is hard, it’s like that dark energy wants to latch onto sentient life and direct it to its own will. Is quintessence sapient? Does it have will and purpose of its own, or is it directed by something else?

A lot of philosophical, metaphysical, maybe even directly physics-related questions for Pidge to sort through, later. Right now, though, washout progress is still steadily climbing. The rise and fall of Shiro’s chest is getting a little more purposeful, now. Not that he’s climbing out of anesthesia, but that it’s not so difficult for him to draw in a breath. His O2 sats are improving; so is his respiratory rate. Even his blood pressure is up, meaning his heart is pumping stronger. Oh, wow. They really were just in time with this.

Once the progress of the wash-out tips into the 90th percentile, it’s back to work, with new gloves and apparatuses. Pidge starts withdrawing the trocars at 91%. Ulaz sounds as incredulous as she feels when he reads off 92, then 93. On instinct, Pidge reaches down to hold Shiro’s hand again, nearly feeling the tingle of quintessence through the nitrile of her gloves as the wash-out takes hold.

“94,” Ulaz announces. Then, a few minutes later, “95.” The same interval, then “96.” Then, nothing for a little while. Pidge frowns at the monitor, wondering what's wrong, until the number changes again, finally--95.

Down? “what’s happening?” Shouldn’t this be a continuous process? How are they somehow losing progress on this?

“I had thought we could avoid this complication,” Ulaz says, “but it appears as though Shiro’s body is using up this new quintessence at an alarming rate--faster than we can replace it.”

“which means?” Pidge snaps off, but Ulaz hesitates. That’s never a good sign. Either what he’s about to explain is out of her depth, or it’s an answer she’ll refuse to accept. “try me,” she urges.

“The crystal on this ship only has so much power to give before we are on auxiliary life support,” Ulaz starts. “My original plans would have allowed the crystal to retain enough to perform basic ship functions--navigation, communications--but little else. At this point, however, those will need to be sacrificed to--”

“you're telling me we’re out of juice,” Pidge interrupts. Ulaz hangs his head, and he at least has the courage to wear his apology on his face. “he’s just going to keep chewing through quintessence until none of it takes, is that what’s going on?” A slight nod. “so it’s going to fail.”

That’s...

That’s unacceptable. They’ve come so far--Pidge has sacrificed so much, and this is going to be what stops them? Miscalculation of the amount of raw energy it would take to force a quintessence dialysis and genomic replication? No, that’s, this is, this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Pidge’s hands feel numb, but her lungs feel like they’re on fire, and her heart’s about to leap out of her chest, and there’s a ringing in her ears, and she feels sick in her core, deeper than her stomach but full of just as much bile. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening, it’s not, it’s--

A bone-deep thrum feels like it’s starting from the base of the Castle--is it finally giving up the rest of its power, or is that--it feels like an intrusive thought in the back of Pidge’s mind, until something in her answers it. That’s Black. That’s the Black Lion, bellowing so loud they can hear her through the distance and through advanced plating. Black, reaching out with Shiro’s link to cry out in pain, devastation, loss. Black, who’s never given up on Shiro before, isn’t about to do it this time.

Pidge isn’t about to give up on him, either.

Some kind of answering call gets stuck in her throat but screams out through her mouth anyway, tearing her vocal cords raw with the sheer force of her frustration, anger, grief, determination, and alongside her, in her mind, she can feel the verdant mindscape of Green roar back. This cannot happen. Pidge is not going to just sit here and let this happen. When she closes her eyes in a silent prayer to every saint whose name she ever learned, a god she’s long abandoned, and a universe that has never listened to what she wants, she can feel the tears streaking down her face. Her forehead falls to press against the back of Shiro’s hand.

When she opens--

--her eyes--

--it’s--

--it feels like--

--seeing through her Lion’s eyes. Forming Voltron. Pooling the souls of five into the vessel of one, a sixth and somehow more powerful entity, like a white lion having been unprismed into its component colors. There’s an urge to grip a bayard that isn’t there, fit it into a socket that doesn’t exist, the same feeling she had on the tip of her tongue just before she formed Voltron’s shield for the first time, and she knows. Knows, bone deep and just as intrinsically true, what she has to do.

The patience of the last few hours, the last week, the last three months since Shiro told her about his diagnosis, has honed her focus beyond the simple edge of a blade. Her body, her mind, her soul are as one. Her teeth are tingling with the force of her conviction. With her being, she reaches out, hooks around Shiro like she’s bonding with her Lion, and she can feel his indomitable will to live, ready to submerge her if she lets it. A well of quintessence here, nearly full, still struggling to reach its apex.

Pidge reaches out with her entire self and starts to pour, thoughtless, selfless, unheeding.

The way the quintessence flows from her being into Shiro’s is nothing short of hemorrhage. It’s not pure, not proper, not the bright, unblemished white of the artificial rarefied form. Nor is it the neon-lavender of Shiro’s tint, the reserved cast of premature maturity and the kind of endless empathy that could drown a man, but a sunny yellow-green, youthful, growing, reckless, insightful, intellect and daring.

It floods through him, so much faster than the slow trickle of purified quintessence routed through the ship’s core. Even as the force of her resolve leaves her, Pidge knows that this, this was the missing part, this was the key. Not some impure dregs from the Galra, not whatever purification science Ulaz has wrought, but the undeniably human connection. The courage to face the entirety of the known universe, the laws of physics, the insurmountable odds against them, and tell them “no, you move.”

From someplace that doesn’t matter, Pidge’s vision starts to go. Ulaz is--something, some kind of words are coming out of his mouth, but Pidge can’t parse them. That quintessence well in Shiro is almost topped off, and she pours, and she pours, and she pours from herself, until the grip goes from her aging hand, until her face fades into a haggard, wrinkled mask, until the light goes from her eyes, until it’s done.

It’s done.

The quintessence flush worked. Pidge knows, in a way she can’t describe, that the change she caused in his cells has propagated to all of him, has made him into something better. That her contribution here was helpful, useful, wanted, needed, necessary. That she wrung out everything she had to give and it was, for once, enough. That Shiro is--not cured, but the genetic portion of his disease has been defeated.

Victory or death. Knowledge or death. Pidge tips forward, out of her stool, and loses consciousness before she hits the floor, quintessence wrung from her in every possible way.

[forgedobsidian]

Scrambled

A Captain Marvel fanfiction. One-shot, complete.

AO3

Summary: The first message Fury sends Carol is . . . unexpected, in a variety of ways.

Characters: Carol Danvers, Talos, Nick Fury, Goose

It’d been something Carol worked on, during the post-fight, Talos-healing, Skrulls-getting-used-to-open-air downtime at Maria’s. She’d needed a project outside of Fury’s pager, and between talks with Talos and Soren and Maria, the fear of falling out of her rediscovered life for a second time took over her hands and head. Days before departure she was handing over a two rudimentary communications devices to Fury and Maria, telling them how to access the universal clock and what to do when she (inevitably) missed a transmission.

The large comms were fairly simple, using a touch-based navigation to go between various conversations and an image processor for pictures and real-time conversations. She’d made them as simple as she could, to avoid hackers and increase durability. Monica had been excited, near tears to have a way to keep in contact with Arala and her other Skrull friends and her Aunt Carol. Maria got a little misty eyed, too, rubbing at her face when she thought nobody was looking.

After getting Carol’s contact ID, Fury had gone straight to Talos and made sure he could contact the Skrull Commander personally. Talos had laughed and said, “Sure you don’t want me to keep being your boss?”

Fury’d just grinned back and promised to send a lot of pictures of Goose.

But that was two weeks ago, and now Carol and the refitted Kree stealth ship were resting in the orbit of Kurual, a minimally inhabited planet known for its exports of somewhat-durable wood and fancy carvings.

“‘S a nice enough place,” Talos said, stepping next to her and peering out the viewing port. “Too close to the Kree-Xandarian border for my comfort, though.”

“I hear ya.” She sighed and rested her forearms against the banister. “Any word back from Admiral Yora?”

“We’re about another week out from the armada.” He handed her a pumu fruit, biting into his own and swallowing. “We can’t stay here for too long. Just need to let the engines cool.”

“Hmm.”

Just then her comm binged, signaling a new message. She pulled her wrist up and palmed at the controls, fingers too occupied with the fruit. Monica had been talking about an upcoming school field trip - this might be a quick message about how it went.

Instead it was from Fury, the first one he’d sent her. She quirked her mouth around a mouthful of pumu and pulled up the message, nearly spitting the fruit all over the viewing port as it came up.

Attached was an image of a smug-looking Goose, curled up in a flerken-loaf next to what looked like a glowing, radioactive spider web the size of an icecream truck. Tucked away in the iridescent mess of fibers were an uncountable number of eggs as big as Carol’s fist.

The only text said: EGGS??!! THESE ARE DAMN FLERKEN EGGS??!!

Carol choked between her laughter and the fruit, pushing her wrist towards Talos while she tried to swallow the mouthful of pumu. Talos looked over the message and started wheezing, leaning over and resting his open hand on his knee.

The comm pinged with another message from Fury, saying: WHAT DO I DO THERE’S SO MANY

She cackled and gave up on standing, sagging against the hallway and throwing her head back in a full-body laugh. Talos just draped himself onto the sill of the viewport, shoulders bobbing up and down as he tried to get his laughter under control.

She managed to pull herself together enough to send back: WHAT, NOT READY TO BE A DAD?

THAT’S NOT FUNNY DANVERS. THERE’S LIKE SIXTY OF THESE THINGS.

At that Carol palmed away the message and booted up the live feed. Fury picked up seconds later, looking hassled and confused and very, very tired.

“So flerkens lay eggs,” Carol said, trying to keep her face under control.

Fury narrowed his eye and pointed a finger at her. “Shut it, Danvers.”

Talos slid down the wall next to Carol, trying to breathe around his laughter. “You - ha! - Goose laid eggs!” He rubbed a hand down his face, grinning between his fingers. “Bet that was a surprise!”

Somehow Fury managed to glare harder. “Not what I expected to find in the corner of my apartment at two in the morning.”

There’s an offended merowl from somewhere off-screen and Fury looks down. “Yes, Goose, your babies are wonderful and you’re a perfect mama. I’m just . . . surprised, is all.”

“Show us the proud mama,” Carol said, bracing her wrist comm against her knee.

He knelt down and back up, this time with Goose tucked in the crook of his arm. The flerken seemed pleased, whiskers and ears pricked as she gave a slow blink. Fury sighed and rubbed a finger against Goose’s cheek. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

Carol let her head fall against the wall with a thunk. Fury seemed genuinely worried, which was an odd realization to have.

Talos finally stopped laughing and crossed his arms over his chest, grinning into the comm screen. “You’re lucky, actually. Some flerken broods have over a hundred and fifty individuals.”

“Oh. Shit. Should I be looking for other . . . nests?”

“Nah, there’s just the one. It’s easier to protect that way.”

“How long until they, uh, hatch?”

Talos shrugged. “Flerkens can hold their eggs for however long they want, until they feel secure enough in their surroundings and food sources to make the nest. They’ll probably hatch in a few days.”

Fury gave a slow blink and sat down, face flabbergasted. Goose crawled up his chest and rubbed her face against his neck. “Okay,” he said, voice sing-songy. “I’m gonna have over sixty flerkens - flerkittens? flerkits? - running around my small, single-bedroom apartment. That’s -” he took a deep breath and his voice nearly broke, “-fine.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Carol said, giving Fury a smile. “They’re gonna be so cute! Little fluffy kitten things! With tentacles!”

“And pocket dimensions in their bellies,” Talos added. “Think of the prime storage space.”

Carol swatted at his shoulder. “Goose’s babies aren’t storage lockers, you jerk.”

“I’m just saying.”

Fury was rubbing at his temples, his eyes clenched closed. Goose seemed concerned, meowing and rubbing her cheek against his jaw. “What do I do with . . . how do I handle this situation?”

Talos shrugged. “Goose’ll probably handle most of the care. Just make sure to keep her well-fed.”

“She already ate my favorite chair. I can’t afford any more casualties.” He looked up, threading his fingers together. “But what about homes? I’m not guessing there’s a space animal shelter or something.”

“For flerkens? No.”

Goose braced herself against Fury’s shoulder and gave a loud meow right into his face. He blinked and sighed. “Was that you saying you have it under control?”

The flerken gave another loud meow and rubbed her forehead against his chin.

Apparently the growth rate for flerkits was completely random on an individual basis, despite them all hatching within eleven hours of each other. Carol got a series of pictures and clips throughout the entire process, images of Goose vigorously licking her children clean, assisted by Fury and a variety of towels. At the end of it, 67 small flerkits were wobbling around Fury’s living room, eyes already open.

By the end of the week, 16 of the kits had doubled in size and were driving Fury crazy. Then, the next day, those 16 were gone. Goose didn’t seem worried, even though Fury spent a solid two hours nearly turning his apartment upside-down and inside-out.

Then, three days later, 9 more flerkits had grown and gone missing.

It took Fury a while to figure out what was going on, and he was lucky enough to catch it on video.

The screen was bouncing as Carol opened the video message. Eventually the camera stilled, focused on the corner of Fury’s apartment that Goose had claimed for her nest. The strange webbing and eggshells had disappeared. Instead, the entire area was covered in blankets and towels and several small plastic toys.

Most of the flerkits were sleeping, tucked into corners and bundled together. Six of them were awake, however, and grown to the size of young cats. Goose was giving each one a through grooming, making sure their fur was fluffy and clean. Then she opened her maw and tentacles shot out.

For a horrifying moment Carol thought Goose was eating her children, but then she looked closer. Goose’s tentacles were calm, not frenzied and writhing like when she swallowed the Tesseract. They were calm and gentle as they slowly wound around her children, petting their ears and scratching their chins.

The flerkits leaned into the touch and opened their own maws, but nothing came out. Instead there was an odd distortion of space around each of their mouths, and then the flerkits blinked away in a ripple of space.

“Goose, what the hell!” Fury yelled, the camera jostling again as he ran over.

When Carol showed Talos the clip, he shuddered when Goose’s tentacles shot out. But then understanding cleared his eyes as the flerkits disappeared.

“My guess?” Talos swiped through another report. “She’s sending them somewhere they’ll be safe, and can grow into their own.”

“How, though?”

“Flerkens have pocket dimensions in their bellies, Carol. They can probably do all sorts of weird things.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

Goose continued to send her children out into the universe. Two actually went directly to Maria’s home, popping up in one of her open tool boxes. Monica sent everyone excited pictures of her playing with the flerkits, dragging sticks through the dirt for them to chase.

Four flerkits made it onto Talos’ ship, somehow managing to pop up directly in the command chair on the bridge.

A spunky calico immediately attached herself to Arala like it was her personal mission. The little flerkit was constantly jogging behind her charge, batting at Arala’s heels or trying to climb up her legs. Whenever the young flerken tired, Arala would pick her up and carry her like a child, belly up, tucked safely in the crook of her arm. Arala named her new friend Cypress, after a species of tree in Louisiana. Cypress quickly became Arala’s constant companion, sleeping with her during night cycles and sneaking food off her plate with paws and the occasional tentacle.

Another one - a light orange tabby - made himself at home in the infirmary. He looked like a mirror image of his mother, except for black socks on his feet. The (unimaginative, in Carol’s opinion) staff named him Suture. It wasn’t uncommon for ill or injured crew to be comforted by a facefull of purring flerken. When he wasn’t acting as a destressor, Suture took to napping on bundles of bandages or strutting the hallways with his siblings.

The third was a shy orange-and-black tortoiseshell that tended to avoid crowds. Even as a young flerkit she tended towards the quieter parts of the ship, the information bays, abandoned rooms and closets. Carol named her Ghost. The growing flerken spent a lot of time out and about during night cycles, hunting orloni in the vents and keeping the less boisterous members of the crew company.

The last one was a fuzzy disaster, with ear tufts as long as his head and large, ungainly paws that signaled a lot of growth in his future. Talos named him “Ojir,” using the Old Skrullic word for “join.” Ojir carried himself with dignity, in contrast with the loud Cypress or attention-seeking Suture. The swiftly-growing flerkit enjoyed spending time with Talos and Soren, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to join Carol in the engineering bays as she tinkered with tech and helped repair ships.

Fury nearly passed out from laughter when he heard about four of Goose’s children popping up in Talos’ chair. “For someone so scared of them,” Fury said, chortling as he tried to talk, “they sure seem to like you!”

Talos just flipped him off.

It was surprisingly nice, having the growing flerkens around. The orloni population took a drastic hit, helping protect delicate wiring in the ship’s interior. Suture became a quick favorite of the soldiers, always willing to be held and petted. While he might not admit it, Talos felt better for having a flerken with his daughter - the creatures seemed to protect those they claimed as their own. Ghost lived up to her name, darting around hallways and through rooms she felt uncomfortable in.

Carol sighed and stretched, pulling away from the bundle of wires and metal scraps on the table in front of her. Her personal room was nearly perfect. Her bed was pushed into an alcove, with storage space below. A built-in, slightly magnetized table was ideal for her projects, and the window was wide enough that, if she pressed her face tight to the glass, she just saw space.

There was a polite knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, looking at the smears of black on her fingertips.

The door hissed into the wall and Talos stepped over the threshold. “And how is Captain Marvel today?” he asked, sitting down in a spare chair.

“Mar-Vell,” she said automatically, a smile pulling at her face. “Just fine.”

“Sleep shift not treating you badly?”

“You know, it takes me a while to get tired, so no.”

“Good, good.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “I just finished a check-in with Admiral Yora.”

Her eyes flicked to his face. “And? What did she say?”

“Well, I think she might have laughed a little when I told her about the flerkits.” His mouth twitched around a smile. “She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Oh.”

Talos narrowed his eyes, taking in Carol’s expression. She seemed nervous and . . . guilty. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just, heh, nervous.” She swallowed.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll understand, Carol. She might be older than dirt - don’t ever tell her I said that - but she’s a soldier, too. She gets it.”

Carol sighed. “If you say so.”

Just then there was a rattle in the vent above them, a moment of silence, then the grated opening gave way and dumped a solid 15 lbs. of growing, fluffy flerkit onto her work table. Her tools and projects scattered, the slight magnetization not enough to hold them in place. For what it was worth, Ojir seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

Carol sputtered and grabbed the scrabbling flerken, helping him find his feet on the slippery surface. Ojir stilled and let himself relax into a sit, holding himself with a dignity that’d been missing seconds before.

“You,” Carol said, gently booping him on the nose, “are getting too heavy for the vents.” Ojir blinked and gave his head a shake, the tufts on his ears slapping back and forth.

Talos snorted and reached over to give the flerkit a pet down his back. “He’s been too big for a while.”

She leaned forward and gave the flerkit a stern look. “Just what were you thinking, mister?”

Ojir narrowed his yellow eyes and, slowly, reached one paw out and gently bopped Carol on the forehead. She blinked and laughed, letting herself feel how silly everything was. She heard Talos give a soft laugh, and for a moment, everything was alright.

Author’s Note:  I pulled some info on flerkens directly from the wiki, but a lot of it I just made up as I went along. Goose is a good mama. Ojir is a Big Fluffy Boy (think bigass maine coon) who likes to feel in charge. Suture loves all his people and actually enjoys belly rubs. Ghost likes hanging out in vents and leaving trophies outside of everyone’s personal rooms. Arala really IS Cypress’s personal charge and she follows her around EVERYWHERE.

Thank you for reading!

[nevermindthewind]

i believe the light that shines on you

Jake wakes up to whispering.

It’s just loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough that he can’t quite make out what their saying. The voice is followed by footsteps, the wooden floors creaking as the voice and the beautiful, incredible person it belongs to get closer. And, if he listens hard enough, he can just make out the snorts and snuffles of his other favorite person who must have just eaten her breakfast.

“Hanna Banana,” Amy sings under her breath. “I love you, my Hanna Banana.”

Jake keeps his eyes closed -- He doesn’t want to ruin their moment -- but it takes every ounce of willpower he has not to smile at Amy’s little song.

“You know who else loves you?” Amy murmurs as she slides back onto the bed. “Your daddy. He loves you and me so much.” A snort, followed by Amy’s sleepy laugh. “I know, can you believe it? How’d we get so lucky? You think we should wake him up?”

“No need ladies, I’m wide awake.”

Jake lets out a yawn as he opens his eyes. Amy is sitting up against the bed frame, her knees drawn up so that Hanna could lay against her thighs. Hanna’s eyes follow her mom’s every movement and Amy’s wearing the same incredible smile she’s had on for the last month as she waves Hanna’s hands with her own. His heart melts at the amount of love on both their faces. It truly is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning,” Amy says softly, briefly smiling at Jake before bringing her eyes back to the baby.

Jake smiles back before scooting over so he’s leaning against Amy’s side. He plants a kiss on her arm as he runs a finger over Hanna’s soft dark hair.

“How’s my girl?”

“Well I finally had my coffee, so I’m doing great.”

Jake looks up to see Amy smirking down at him. For once it’s Jake who’s rolling his eyes.

“Your mom is such a dork, you know that?” He directs his question at Hanna.

“Maybe so, but at least I’m a caffeinated dork,” Amy quips back.

“True,” says Jake as he tries to stifle another yawn. He slowly sits up and throws the blankets off himself. “I think I need to get on your level.”

“Go for it, I made a whole pot,” Amy says, giving him a final glance before returning her attention back to Hanna.

Jake stretches his arms above his head before launching himself off the bed and padding across the room. The sun has risen since the last time he was up, casting a warm light across the room. Everything looks a little calmer, a little brighter brighter than usual. Although, that could just be because he’s never been happier in his entire life than he has been in the last four weeks. Just a thought.

He’s almost to the door when he sees Amy’s head snap up, her eyes wide.

“Stop!” she gasps. “Oh my god no, don’t go get coffee. It’s Father’s Day! Let me get it.”

“Wait really?” Jake asks, completely surprised. He honestly had forgotten all about Father’s Day, what with the whole taking care of a baby thing.

“Yes,” Amy groans. “I made coffee and was going to bring it to you in bed with your gifts, but then Hanna started crying so I got distracted because she was hungry and then she was just so sweet and cuddly after her feeding I lost track of time, you know? I mean those cheeks, they’ll getcha!”

Jake has to stifle a laugh as he watches her get so worked up.

“Ames, babe, relax. She’s the best human on the planet, of course you got distracted. Don’t worry about it.”

“This is true,” she replies, bringing her hand to her cheek. “But still. You get back into bed, I’ll get the coffee.”

“But I’m already up?”

“Doesn’t matter,” says Amy as she lifts Hanna up and swings her legs over the bed. “You take her and I’ll go grab your coffee and your presents.”

“I get presents AND coffee?! Wow I like this day already,” Jake says, giving Amy a gentle kiss before taking the baby out of her arms.

“Only the best for my baby daddy,” Amy replies with a smirk. “Now go get back in bed and let me fake surprise you.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jake says dramatically before turning to Hanna, who’s currently sucking on his T-shirt. “At least I get more time with you now, huh baby girl?”

Hanna sticks out her tiny tongue in response.

“God, even your tongue is adorable,” Jake murmurs as he kisses the top of her head and sits back onto the bed. “Do I have to go back to work tomorrow?” he calls down the hall.

“If you want your daughter to have food and clothing? Probably.”

“Well I do want that,” he says to Hanna. She’s wide awake now, her bright brown eyes locking onto his as she wraps her tiny fist around his finger. It’s little movements like these that make Jake think she really does know who he is. Even though Amy says Hanna knows him, can tell he’s her dad, it’s still all a little hard to believe sometimes.

And now tomorrow Jake has to leave. Honestly he had expected he would be at least a little excited, but right now, with Hanna in his arms and Amy in the next room there is nothing he wants more than to stay here forever. Granted, it’s only for eight hours and he can come home during lunch, but still. What if his daughter inherited his goldfish brain and she forgets who he is? What if while he’s gone Hanna does something incredible and he misses it?

“But I don’t wanna leave you,” Jake continues as Hanna waves his finger. “You’re way better than any case I could ever, ever work on. And you’re ten thousand times cuter than any perp I’ve ever arrested.”

“True, she’d even put the Stevens twins to shame,” Amy says from the doorway. In one hand she has a mug of coffee doctored just the way he likes it (1 cream, 5 sugars) while the other is carrying a beautifully wrapped box.

“Oh those two don’t even stand a chance,” Jake replies. He shakes his head down at Hanna. “No they don’t!”

Amy giggles as she makes her way to the bed and gently sets down the box before handing Jake his coffee.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, planting a quick, sweet kiss on his lips.

“Thanks, babe.” He smiles back at her before bringing his attention to the box. “Hanna sure did a great job wrapping this present.”

“What can I say, she’s a Santiago. And Santiagos are excellent gift wrappers,” Amy says proudly. She climbs onto the bed, situating herself right next to Jake so their knees are just barely touching. Jake hands her the baby, running his hands through her hair one last time before turning his gaze to the box now directly in front of him.

“When did you have time to wrap this?” Jake asks, impressed.

“A couple days ago when you and Han were passed out on the couch,” says Amy. “Now, don’t get too excited. I would have spent more time on it but, you know, I haven’t had a lot of free time in the past month.”

Jake gives her a look. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know. We pretty much established that when you pushed our child out of your vagina.”

“I know,” says Amy dismissively. “But I wanted to. It’s a big deal, your first Father’s Day! Go ahead and open it,” she adds impatiently.

Jake grins as he rips through the paper, only to find a cardboard box with a sticky note attached to the top. Normally, he’d skip the card and go straight for the presents. But this is Amy we’re talking about, so he holds off and grabs the note.

I know you hate cards so just open the present already!! xoxo, Amy

He laughs as he looks up to see Amy wearing a satisfied smirk.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she says with a faux flip of her hair. “Now open it!”

No need to ask him twice. Jake immediately opens the box only to have his jaw drop. Inside are four items, each one better than the next. There’s a six pack of orange soda, a new tie that looks like the exact one Hanna spit up on last week, a Die Hard tear-off calendar, and something else that was hiding beneath the soda. They were all nestled in a bed that looks like —

“Is that one of my shirts?”

Amy laughs. “Yeah, I couldn’t find anything to use as padding, so I had to improvise. What do you think?” she adds nervously. “I kinda thought of it as a back to work kit. You know, with the new tie and calendar. And you can put the soda in the kitchen fridge so you have a ready supply! Then the pictures—“

“Wait, what pictures?” Jake asks, looking back at the box. Amy cranes her neck so she can look, too.

“Oh the soda must’ve fallen when I carried the box in. Check underneath.”

Jake rummages around for a bit before his hand makes contact with something hard and rectangular. He pulls it out, giving Amy a tiny confused grin before looking down to find three small picture frames, each connected by a little hinge.

In the frames are three of Jake’s all-time favorite pictures.

The first is from the day Hanna came home from the hospital, her head cocked to the side and her eyes wide open under her little hospital hat. It’s a look Amy’s given him a thousand times before, which is exactly what he told Amy when he snapped the picture.

The right hand picture is more recent, taken last week maybe. Amy’s sitting cross legged on the couch, with Hanna propped up against her chest. She’s grinning at the camera, holding Hanna’s hand up in an attempt at a wave.

Then there’s the center picture. It’s a simple selfie, Jake holding the camera while Amy held up Hanna so she could be in frame. Jake and Amy were both making ridiculous faces in an attempt to get Hanna to crack some form of a smile. But instead, she just looks completely nonplussed at her parents combined twenty chins. Her reaction, or lack thereof, had only made them laugh harder, and it had turned into a whole photoshoot of ugly faces and baby apathy. It was the hardest Jake’s ever laughed in his entire life.

“I know you like to have pictures on your desk,” Amy says softly, snapping him back to the present. “So I figured you’d want some with Hanna. You know, so if you missed us you could just look up, and we’d be right there.”

Jake chews his lip, trying to stop his smile from taking over his entire face. He sets his hand on her knee and gives it a squeeze

“I love it,” he says, his voice full of sincerity.

“Really?” Amy asks. “I know it’s not much.”

Jake leans over and gives her a long, gentle kiss. He can feel her smile underneath his lips before he pulls away.

“There is not a single bone in my sleep-deprived body that wants to go to work tomorrow. But if I have to, going to the precinct with these will make it a helluva lot easier.”

Amy sighs as she brings her non-Hanna hand up to his neck and plays with his hair.

“I don’t want you to leave either,” she says quietly. “But we’ll be right here when you get back. And I’ll show her pictures of you all the time.”

Jake can’t help but smile at the image of Amy swiping through pictures of him with their newborn. And the best part is, he knows she not lying.

“I know. I just really love you two.”

Amy takes his hand in hers and gives it one more gentle squeeze.

“We love you too.”

The rest of the day is pretty much like any other day, the two of them taking turns with Hanna while the other showers or makes food or what have you. And while a couple of years ago he would have scoffed at the idea of spending a whole day doing nothing, present day Jake is one hundred percent content. Because right now, with Amy singing Hamilton in the kitchen while he watches Hanna sleep?

Well, there really is nowhere he’d rather be.

[shameninja]

Precure Retrospective- Futari Wa Episode 2

So I assume that I’m going to run out of interesting things to say about Futari wa when we reach the halfway point or so, and this commentaries will become shells of their former selves.

But! That day is not today! I have quite a few things to say about this episode; not as much as about Episode 1... (Future Me: SHE WAS HORRIBLY WRONG)

Before we dive into it, one thing I think I should note here that I forgot to last time, is that the first three episodes of the show are scripted by Ryo Kawasaki himself! So not only is he responsible for how the story looks at the end of the day-By and part- but also how the show starts out. We’ll reflect on the quality of his attempts overall later on.

That said, let’s just dive into this one.

This episode opens with a neat spotlight effect, as while girls are taking ballots out of a box, Nagisa does some necessary exposition regarding what happened last time. Yeah, yeah, we just saw this stuff a week ago, but it’s a kid’s show. Gotta run with it.

I will say that it at least makes sense for Nagisa to still be ruminating over all that happened; this doesn’t necessarily feel forced, even if it is necessary. Anyway, while Nagisa is zoning out Honoka became the representative of their class, likely surprising no one. Were there any competitors, truly?

And it’s worth correcting something that wasn’t really worded well in the subs last episode, Honoka was in a different class last year. This year, they are in the same class together. It was also a bit unclear that they were at the start of the school year in Episode 1, while the class representative election and such does make that much clearer.

Anyway, Nagisa is startled to attention as everyone begins to applaud Honoka, and gives a few polite claps to her pseudo-teammate. As you might expect, she’s a team player.

Time passes, as time is wont to do, and we’re now in English, I’d assume. Nagisa has been entrusted to read a particular passage, and it’s actually a little interesting- she didn’t fall asleep in this class, and from the reaction of the rest of the class she’s doing an okay job. Whether she’s good at school remains to be seen, but math is probably her worst subject, I’d hypothesize.

Regardless, Nagisa’s fairy starts desperately trying to get her attention in the middle of class, and as they love to do, starts fucking things up. Her concentration completely thrown off, Nagisa turns to Honoka for aid, but the poor girl is completely oblivious to what is going on.

I wonder what’s happening? Surely Mepple isn’t doing something stupid in the middle of class, is he? No, even he can’t be that annoying.

Like, I get that the show is trying to use the fairies as, kind of, comedic relief, but they are just so irritating and petty and the scenes unfunny that it just drags them down and makes you wonder why Nagisa and Honoka would care about them at all.

After a bit more embarrassment, Nagisa turns to the camera and laments her situation. How will Nagisa get out of this wacky predicament!? Turn it after the OP to find out! (SPOILERS: we never find out.)

The OP rolls on, and then it’s time for Something Completely Different! We suddenly shift to Pisard’s perspective and see him talk to the Dark King at their hidden lair, known as, rather appropriatelyl, the Dark Zone.

Looks homely.

I like the aesthetic of the Dark Zone quite a bit. It’s effectively foreboding, the lack of other characters there merely emphasizing that fact. You don’t get that as much in a lot of the follow-up seasons, though I think being able to quickly learn about the villains and helping them build up a rapport manages to be a bigger advantage. I also kind of like the chains too- they’re a little creepy, especially how they almost look like they’re attached to nothing and are stylized a little differently, but show, rather than tell, that the Dark King (yes that is his name) is probably contained in some manner, and that involves the Prism Stones somehow.

Milord interrogates Pisard on why exactly if he found the Prism Stones (whatever they are) he does not appear to have them to give to him. Pisard tries to quickly explain that Team Futari Wa got in his way, but his liege is having none of it. The King quickly explains some things I’d honestly expect Pisard to know- there’s 7 Prism Stones, they currently have 5. The fairies managed to escape with the other two, and thus Pisard must get the stones from them, alive or dead. After he does so, the King will be able to rule the entire universe with their power. Pisard seems weirdly surprised at this, but also seems to be full of determination again, and goes to prepare a plan.

The whole scene is a little clunky, but at least the stakes are a lot clearer now (the very Universe itself is in Nagisa’s hands!), we get a broad sense of why the fairies came to Earth, and why Nagisa and Honoka can’t (sadly) feed them to the wolves now that the two are Pretty Cure.

Give them a break, give them a break, just give a Pisard a piece of a Kit-Kat bar?

Presumably after-class, Nagisa quickly goes outside school and interrogates Mepple. Well Mepple had the very good reason that Pisard is attacking!!! Nah I’m just fucking with you he just did it because he’s hungry and has no self-control.

Nagisa doesn’t take well to this, and when she demands that Mepple actually address her with respect, Nagisa gets even more frustrated by Mepple seeming to mock her. This kind of joke would work at least a little better if we had any real reason to care about Mepple the way we do Nagisa. But we don’t at all. We do know some things about them now, but very broad things, and their personality has been being brattish and constantly demanding. It’d also help if this was playful repartee, and not just Mepple being a dick.

Anyway, Nagisa eventually gives in and tries to figure out how she’s supposed to feed him. Mepple explains that the cards they have, aside from the one-a-piece they use to transform, help take care of the fairies. And there is a certain card that will give Mepple food. After enough pestering and Nagisa struggling to find the right card, she correctly selects Door Card #3, and, well... this happens.

This begs so many questions.

This whole idea of having things to take care of the fairies is a... kind of interesting concept that tends to pop up in seasons a lot. It’s a reasonable conceit- I mean fairies and whatnot need to be able to eat and drink, don’t they?

It’s best when it plays into the narrative (as in Princess, Fresh, Smile, etc.), and it does do so in this series in a few episodes, but honestly my main complaint is that with all the cards the two are given only a handful ever get used. It feels like wasted potential- given the quality of filler in this season, they could have replaced a few and maybe use those episodes to really flesh out Mepple and Mipple’s characters? (The joke is they barely have them.)

Well, tangent aside. Pisard appears above a street with a fuckload of pedestrians, and then says foreshadowy things about energy and a “gift” for Mr. Dark King, and then... prepares.

The story marches on, with Honoka and Nagisa having a little together-time; Nagisa comes into the Science Club, and Honoka tries to impress her with the hard candy machine she made with SCIENCE. Sadly, not all goes as planned, the machine breaks, and she will have to work on Candymaker Version 3.0. One has to wonder if she keeps trying to make this thing for SCIENCE’S SAKE or she just likes hard candy. (It’s totally both.)

Nagisa complains about how they keep talking during class, and Honoka is like “sis don’t you know ‘bout the sleep card?” and Nagisa is like “what?” and basically it turns about to be a different card that can be used to make them go night-night. Nagisa uses the card and puts the little demon to rest. They resolve to use it more in the future. (Though not often enough.)

This just raises even more questions!

Moving forward, Nagisa had come by to talk about Precure matters. She is heavily against ever doing Precure stuff again. Surpisingly, she proves to be the practical one, whereas Honoka is less grounded, talking about how she both believes that it’ll be “interesting”, and an opportunity that Fate had given them. While she could mean interesting in something more akin to a scientific endeavor, it kind of comes across as her thinking it would be really fun.

It’s just a bit of a role-reversal, I think- not necessarily in the content (though that too), but how they argue. Nagisa makes solid rather practical arguments, whereas instead of even really engaging much with them, Honoka doesn’t actually try and engage Nagisa’s practical concerns, and goes for more emotion-based arguments- arguing that it’s fun and exciting and that she believes it’s an opportunity given by Fate. It was kind of implied last episode in their conversation about the shooting stars, but Honoka does have a bit of a romantic side, and that really comes through here and gives the discussion a spin you might not expect just from surface-knowledge of the two characters.

As Nagisa comments on how they were attacked and nearly killed, a soccer ball crashes through a window and enters the room. In a nice touch the two instantly panic, before realizing that it was just the soccer club missing the mark by miles. Nagisa grabs the ball, pretty pissed off, and charges down to give them a piece of her mind. And she encounters... Fuji-p. Fuck.

If there was a character I hated more than Mepple and Mipple...

We’ll get more into why I hate him when he is more relevant (so basically we’ll never get into it.) Regardless, Fuji-p apologizes, Nagisa gives a flustered response and then slowly walks off, and Honoka, watching, is simply rather confused.

Pisard, meanwhile, is looking for a machine to corrupt and turn to evil, as you do. He then sees what appears to be a Japanese version of a Hoover and decides this is the one. So he shows the audience how to buy items well outside your price range in this economy- just hypnotize the clerk and steal it.

Nagisa ponders her reaction to Fuji-p for a moment, but after Mepple barges into the conversation we get to the far better topic of Nagisa needing to be a Pretty Cure, with her insisting that it isn’t Mepple’s choice to make for her, which is completely true. Mepple suddenly wants to talk about his home world, and while Nagisa first claims disinterest, she basically immediately caves when Mepple breaks out the puppy dog eyes, as is typical.

Basically, Mepple is from a place called the Field of Light, where everything was great. And then it all changed when the Dark Zone attacked. They basically wrecked the place and fearing that all would be lost, the King and Queen entrusted Mepple (the Guardian of the Field of Light) and Mipple (The Princess of Hope) with the Prism Stones and helped them escape. I don’t recall if those titles end up meaning much, but I don’t believe they do.

We then cut to Honoka and Mipple helps fill in the gaps. She explains that the stones are super important and valuable, but when Honoka starts to ask what the Prism Stones actually do, her grandmother interrupts the conversation, opening the screen door to her room and asks who Honoka is talking to. Honoka badly bluffs, and Grandma clearly thinks she’s full of shit but doesn’t press the matter. She then asks if Honoka has been in the storeroom recently for some reason; Honoka clearly lies again, and again, Grandma doesn’t press the issue and just leaves. Somehow I think something is up with her.

Sadly, if Honoka then asks for Mipple to explain what the Prism Stones do again, we don’t get to see it, because ENTER PISARD. He uses the vacuum he got at that handy Zakennas ‘R Us, and makes his next FEROCIOUS ABOMINATION. BEHOLD

idk I think this one is kinda cute too.

Like, I’m not sure if these things are supposed to genuinely be threatening, or if it’s intentional that honestly the Zakenna thus far are kinda adorable, in my opinion. I might buy plushies of them I don’t know. But maybe it is I who is weird.

Anyway, Pisard demands that the Zakenna suck up all the “energy” in the nearby area. Which actually appears to be electrical power; the streetlights go out, there’s power outages, etc.

As he did last time, Mepple senses Dark Zone Bad Times, but Nagisa shuts him down. She’s being consistent: she risked her life for this shit, someone else can handle it.

It’s not the Precure way to just abandon duties, but Nagisa doesn’t even want to be one right now. She just wants to be a girl with friends who lives a happy life and isn’t tasked with saving the world, and that’s totally reasonable; Nagisa’s reaction makes total sense and I’d be curious how they’re going to develop their character as a result of it.

On the other hand, you could also argue that Nagisa doesn’t think that she’s up to the task, that this is all too much for her- she has a line that explicitly states that they shouldn’t have “chosen an ordinary girl like her to do something so important”. I think this maybe fits Nagisa’s outward and perceived character a little less, but I think that the underlying fear that plays into my preferred take works here too- she’s scared and she didn’t sign up for this and she just can’t do it.

The way that the writing actually opens up a couple interpretations of what’s going on in Nagisa’s head is actually pretty well done. I think both these takes are really interesting, and one (or neither) may be more better supported by the rest of the series, but if it’s either it gives you some interesting launching pads for development.

Back to the show. Mepple pleads with Nagisa, and our heroine looks out the window and sees some rather strange electrical developments on her end of the woods too. A reporter on TV describes how the city is now in a panic, and then her television too becomes a victim of the Dark Zone and nefariously shuts off.

Mepple pushes her a little more and notes that Mipple (and thus Honoka) is likely to already be there, and Nagisa appears to, when told that on top of everything else, finally cave and runs out of her house to SAVE THE DAY... but is intercepted by her little brother.

I kind of like how, for the moment, her little brother is an actual character in the show? That does things???

It’s a short appearance, however, as she manages to her brother to concede, and then heads off to fulfill her duty. We then get a shot of a really huge fucking mall.

Like does that look unreasonably tall to anyone else?

However the Zakenna is fulfilling its DARK MISSION and sapping the mall of its electricity, and thus... an elevator being rode by several people is stopped mid-climb. And when Nagisa arrives she notices, to her dismay, that the people on it include Shiho and Rina!

I kind of like their inclusion in this subplot. Not only does it keep them relevant, but it kind of forces Nagisa’s hand. Nagisa cares about people and is a team player already, but these are her friends. People she cares deeply about, and that’s going to massively override her reservations. She has no choice but to put them completely aside for now and go give Pisard and the Zakenna a hardy “FUCK YOU!”

The two attempt to dash in and help everyone, but immediately bump into Pisard, who says he was expecting them. The Cures try to ignore him and continue forth, but Pisard blocks their attempt through having the Adorable Vacuum of Death strike at them; a blow that appears to miss but ALSO knocks both Cures off their feet and rolling into a nearby wall... so I don’t know what they were trying to depict there. A burst of air maybe?

At this point Nagisa is simply infuriated, and quickly teams up with Honoka to transform. Pisard simply watches, and confirms to himself that these two are the “legendary duo” from the Field of Light touched on earlier. I do like how so far, we kind of have a more-or-less stated excuse for him not attacking during the transformation sequence for both episodes.

He then orders Zakenna to essentially go all-out against them, and a battle commences. Both magical girls initially put all their efforts into dodging the attacks (which as you might guess, involve sucking in or blowing out air/wind) but when White is falling after getting caught in the Zakenna’s pull, she moves her hands in a circle for... unclear reasons. Honestly I feel the choreography for this fight isn’t really that great.

Black saves her and then storms into action, but the vacuum is ready for her, and through manipulating the direction of air flow, makes it so she ends up barely avoiding being thrown into Cute Vacuum Zakenna’s maw.

Clearly it’s just grumpy because it’s hungry. The true villain here is undernourishment. Feed your Zakenna at least twice a day, kids.

So anyway, Black is kind of in a seriously bad spot. Pisard says to destroy her and to do so the Zakenna... doesn’t try to eat her but instead flings Black forward, through a door, and out of the fight? Like I get why they DID this, but as I’ll get into later, it’s a bit of a plothole.

It’s also annoying because the first good moment of the fight is the genuinely tense situation Black is in here, and it feels like instead of having Black or White come up with a creative way to get her out of the situation she gets through it via writer fiat.

Regardless, the Zakenna then pulls White toward it, ties her up with cords, and then flings her through the same door- or the hole where the door was, rather. You would think the Zakenna would have done that earlier, since it’s such a nifty trick. But anyway.

The two end up tumbling down an elevator shaft, and they end up looking up at an incredibly amused Pisard. He then decides to teach them an important lesson about gravity by cutting the elevator cables with his magic and... send them falling to their deaths, as well as everyone in the elevator? ..Holy shit? Things just got really real?

As the elevator rapidly falls downward, the people in the elevator scream hysterically, as is appropriate. Black also begins panicking, not sure how to handle this situation, but White quickly composes herself and improvises, tying the two to the elevator with a ribbon, and having Nagisa hold her hands to connect the two of them, and then using the friction from their boots to attempt to slow the speed of the fall. It’s a good plan and though it almost looks like it isn’t going to work... the plan proves fruitful at the final hour, as the elevator touches the ground floor, and they all live!

Okay it’s Doctor Who but you can’t deny it’s appropriate.

It’s actually a really effective and tense sequence, both because you initially don’t have any idea how they’re going to get out of the situation, and even after protagonist comes up with a creative and potentially workable idea, it could easily fail, and seems to fail until the elevator hits the bottom. It’s a genuinely inspired scene.

It’s also worth noting that this is another bit where the two help one of them by working together. It’s Nagisa’s friends that are in danger specifically, but it’s through both of them combining their efforts that they’re saved, just as it saves the lives of the Cures. I think this is another example really showing that they can work fantastically as a team, whether Nagisa wants to or not.

Black and White are hardly amused by this attempt at mass murder, and move back up the elevator shaft to get some sweet revenge. Pisard, seeing that his attempt failed, tries to sic his Zakenna on them in a last ditch effort. Zakenna shoots... something from it’s mouth (I’m not sure what it is help), but the two unconsciously grip hands, and suddenly a shield surrounds the two, protecting them from this (probably?) very dangerous attack. The two then use Marble Screw, and after a kick from Black... that’s all she wrote for Adorable Vacuum-kun.

Now, to back up a second because I consider this important. The shield may feel like a deus ex machina, and it kinda is, but assuming that the Pretty Cure are strengthened by friendship and personal bonds, and this is something that gets established (And is fundamental to seasons like Suite), it totally makes sense that the Pretty Cure would get a boost when they get in danger.

The falling elevator was a situation where Nagisa had to rely on Honoka to survive and save her friends, and she did. She put her trust in Honoka, voicing no doubts, and through working together they saved the lives of several people, including Nagisa’s own friends. When all the chips were down she believed Honoka could come through. I think there clearly is starting to be growth in their relationship there, and the fact that the two held their hands together instinctively at the next moment of crisis really supports that imo.

To wrap things up, Pisard admits he underestimated them, and ponders if their power is the ‘”Power of Light”, whatever that means. We then bid him adieu for the episode.

The next day Nagisa’s friends are telling her about their experience on the elevator, and Nagisa rather understandably feels a little awkward. Things get a little more awkward when Shiho and Rini say they heard a voice above the elevator, aaaand Nagisa decides this is a good time to divert attention as quickly as possible, noting that they’ll probably be late to school- and all goes as Nagisa planned, as the other two immediately begin to panic and dash to school together, Nagisa pushing them along. The gang passes Honoka, but she just looks on, seemingly amused.

We suddenly shift perspectives for our final scene, which takes place at the shopping district where Pisard engaged in Grand Theft Vacuum. And we see that one of the vacuums being sold appears to have Cure Black’s bootprint! Dun.. dun... dun? (They also talk about the authorities looking into what happened yesterday, but I don’t remember anything coming of that so let’s just ignore it.)

So one thing I really liked about this episode is that between Pisard wanting to do something extra to help the bossman, heavily suspecting that the Pretty Cure were legendary heroes, creating a Zakenna who immediately is ordered to do something that is certain to get the Cures attention but does little to accomplish their primary goal, which also happens to be a hard counter to most of the Cures attacks, and which also can throw them through a door that leads to an elevator shaft that Pisard can easily drop and create a certain death they can’t Marble Screw out of, most of the plot of this episode was Pisard’s plan to murder the Pretty Cure in cold blood.

Which is really neat! You rarely see villains in this sort of anime jump to taking the heroes as a serious threat right off the bat, and it is genuinely a pretty good plan, really only foiled by Honoka’s amazing improv skills, and quite a bit of luck. It’s a great, intense sequence that works so well. I’m actually genuinely curious what Pisard’s next move will be.

The whole thing is slightly spoiled by the fact that I have no idea how he got Zakenna in on this plan, since otherwise Zakenna would have no reason to throw them through that door. So that hurts the whole deal for me, but far from ruins it.

And like... I feel like the first 10 minutes or so of the episode is pretty weak. I get we needed the exposition, but it largely feels like it drags since it’s mostly sitting and listening to people talk, with some tedious fairy bullshit thrown in. The story really picks up in the second half, but even then the battle choreography is weak, and the Zakenna fight is rather dull, largely one-sided, and does end in a deus ex machina. And between Mepple being terrible (when is Mipple going to get any character?) and the introduction of Fuji-P, a lot of it all adds up to irritation.  

But the character stuff in this episode is so good. There is just so much going on in this episode with Honoka and Nagisa and their relationship and Nagisa’s reticence to be a Pretty Cure. So much of it is cute and charming and fun and thoughtfully crafted. The way the minor characters play into the narrative is really interesting and well done too; it really felt like everyone got included and I like that. And so much of the second half, despite its short-comings, is really well done.

The episode has its weaknesses, but it has so many strengths to balance those out. It outshines Episode 1 by a long-shot, and if far more of the episodes were like this than I recall, I’ll end up thinking the season is far better than I thought.

God that was a lot of words. But anyway, I’m done here at Episode 2 Land, Episode 3 coming to a Tumblr Account Near You soon.

But for now, good night my friends, and may any elevators you ride in be in proper working order.

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 3 Day One

***So this is what it's like to be on the run with our favorite secret agent. =0 There is a deleted scene this week of Vandy picking out clothes for Cerise so make sure you patrons head on over to get your hands on that!

Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. ~Let’s Connect! FFC

Tagged Chapter Directory***

(Deleted Scene, Vanderwood buying clothes for Cerise)

The first thing he’d done when they’d gotten to the next town over was find a clothing store that would suit her liking, which he figured meant pink, comfortable, and cute based on how she was dressed the day before and her pajamas now. He’d tried to wake her to get Cerise to go in, but she’d refused thanks to her current state of dress, and that had been the only reason he’d bothered going in for her. It was uncomfortable, in fact it was rather horrible.

Per Cerise’s suggestion, he’d talked to a sales woman about what to choose, but of course he’d ended up in the bra and panties aisle with the woman because, well, Cerise needed those items too. Thanks to his cover story, the woman had picked out a piece of lingerie too, which he tried not to imagine Cerise in as the woman said, ‘I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t mind you picking out something for yourself too.’ Vanderwood just shoved all of the clothes into the trunk, tucking a specific clothing item into the far back of it, just like he was doing with his imagination.

It was a relief to him that Cerise didn’t start to wake up until after he’d gone to get her new phone too. When she was sleeping, she was much easier to manage, and she could apparently sleep harder than even Seven. Vanderwood could see her waking up now, though, but maybe that was a good thing, since it was time to find a hotel.

Cerise opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting them to the light. The road still passed by them as she tried to train her eyes on anything outside, hard to do when everything was moving. Instead, she turned her head and let her eyes focus on the man who was currently still driving. How long had it been? She noted that he didn’t look as intense, at least. Cerise yawned and stretched before sitting completely upright. “Morning.” She greeted him with a sleepy smile, rubbing at her eyes. Maybe she’d bug him soon to stop for coffee.

Vanderwood turned his head slightly to see her, a half smirk on his face. “Well, good morning, sleeping beauty.” What would have been and should have been a normal quip, made him feel red-faced and embarrassed. Normally he was so good with women, and it was really starting to bother him. Cerise’s sing song response wasn’t helping him any either. “Well, I have been told that I have quite the cute sleeping face.” Vanderwood was internally groaning again, taking a few minutes before he could talk. “I got your new phone. It’s in that bag on the floor, and when we get to the next town we’ll be staying at, I’ll transfer your files.” That came out normally, good.

Cerise had been taking his few minutes of silence to try and wake up, to process the events up until the current situation, but she perked up immediately at the mention of her new phone. Instantly she was grabbing at the bag, taking it out and examining it. “Oh my God! It’s actually the new model…Yes!” She began to chatter for the next few minutes about all the functions the phone had and how it would help her social media, how much higher quality the camera was and all the new emojis and filters. Cerise couldn’t wait until they finally got to the next town, and she could test out her new toy.

Vanderwood was absolutely stunned by her reaction. The way she reacted to a simple new phone was just…He wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed or endeared. On one hand, he should really be paying attention to make sure that no one was following them, but on the other hand, she was just so adorable talking about the new phone. His heart felt like it had grown wings and was going to fly away that he’d managed to make her so happy. Well, the phone had.

A sign welcoming them to the next town was what reminded him of what they needed to be doing. He had to choose their hotel, and get them checked in. It would be best if it were somewhere that people wouldn’t think for him to go, which gave him an idea. He interrupted her chatter, as much as he almost wanted to hear her go on and on about the phone for eternity. “Cerise, choose a hotel.”

“Wait, me? Well, okay, I guess.” Cerise looked around their immediate area, not bothering to look anything up on her phone. She didn’t want to waste time until she could get into her new phone and get it up and running. There was so much to post about that it would probably take her upwards of two hours if she hurried. The throw away phone was pretty much useless to her. She just couldn’t do anything with it. Cerise pointed to the first hotel that looked…not questionable. “That one looks nice, I think?” That and it looked like it had a restaurant attached to it, which was great because she was starving and really wanted coffee. What was he even looking for in a hotel anyway?

Vanderwood had to admit that the hotel she had chosen looked pretty decent. The best part really was that he hadn’t chosen it. That would slow Drawl and Jessica down as far as finding Cerise and him. Vanderwood found his way into the parking lot, realizing that Cerise still needed to change into some decent clothes. That meant they should probably start with checking into the hotel rooms first. Granted, he was starving, and she probably was too, but that would have to come after.

“Let’s change, check in, and go eat.” His mention of food was like music to Cerise’s ears, and she couldn’t wait to finally get out of the car, that and out of her pajamas to get into some real clothes. It was winter, after all. Vanderwood was apparently thinking about the same thing because he went to the trunk instead of around to the passenger side first. He figured she needed at least some shoes on now, so she wouldn’t have to walk through the parking lot and hotel bare foot.

Cerise was wondering what he was doing in the trunk, but didn’t have to wait long before he was opening the passenger side door, causing her to pull his jacket tighter around her against the cold winter air. Vanderwood handed her the shoes, which she slipped on happily. Thankfully the store he’d gone to seemed true to size because her feet fit perfectly.

Vanderwood had waited for her to put on the shoes before he took her hand to help her out of the car. Holding her hand, even though it was a perfectly normal action, seemed to make his face light up with red again. He coughed to clear his mind so that he could get his brain functioning properly in agent mode. “I’ll get the bags. We’re getting two rooms connected by a door.”

Cerise was thankful for his help, feeling rather stiff from all of her time spent curled up in the front seat. The moment he had taken her hand, though, her chest felt…fluttery? That was weird…His abrupt cough pulled her back to reality, and she looked up at him as he spoke. “Wow…You’re such a gentleman.” The praise had him just not able to process what she was saying as she turned to grab the two cellphones from the car so the files could be transferred later. “A gentleman and good looking, you’re just the whole package, aren’t ya?” She was teasing him but also internally asking herself Why?

Vanderwood somehow managed a “Yup.” Even though his brain was on the fritz. He busied himself with grabbing their bags from the car and locking it before leading her to the entrance of the hotel. Cerise remained quiet, and the entire time he was checking them in, and he was berating himself for not knowing how to respond. His eye scanned constantly as he led her up to the hotel, unlocking her door for her.

“Just knock on our connected door when you’re ready, and we’ll head down together.” It was probably a little strange for her that he was keeping even her room key, but it was safer if he was in charge of her comings and goings. She took the bags that were meant for her, affirming to him that she was listening before disappearing into her own room.

Once he was in his room, he finally had a chance to just breathe and be alone. For the first time that day, he noticed the burning sensation in his abdomen. Everything going on had made him forget that, right, Drawl had stabbed him. He tugged off his shirt, going to the sink to examine the wound. It looked swollen and angry, cauterized instantly thanks to Drawl’s love for knives covered in acid, so at least there wasn’t blood to clean off. The acid did need to come off, though.

After quickly cleaning the cut with some items from his go bag kit, he changed into some normal looking clothes, a purple t-shirt and some jeans, putting his taser in his right pocket for easy access. He needed some comfort right now, but that didn’t mean he was going to go without his favorite weapon. Not that he didn’t have plenty others hidden on his person.

His entire body felt tense and not just from being in the car all day. A cigarette would have been a dream, but that wasn’t an option, and he had to avoid talking to others as much as possible, so getting his other fix wasn’t an option either. Just the thought of getting an escort with Cerise next door was making him feel a little guilty too. He was supposed to be protecting her, considering it was his fault she was in danger in the first place, so he shouldn’t even consider doing something so dangerous.

Cerise had dug through the bags Vanderwood had given her and laid out the new clothes she had received, trying to figure out what to wear. He really hadn’t done so bad picking stuff out, and she could definitely see herself wearing it. It didn’t take her long on deciding what she wanted, opting for a cute top and skirt that she threw a tan jacket over. There was even a matching scarf!

She changed out of her pajamas and into her new outfit to find that it was even really comfortable, much to her enjoyment. When she was satisfied with how she looked, she grabbed her phones, wanting him to make good on transferring the files as soon as possible, and knocked on their connecting doors. “Hey! I’m ready now!” She called out, the last part she emphasized in a sing-song voice. She was not only excited for food but also for her brand-new phone.

As soon as Vanderwood heard Cerise’s voice, he went to open the door only for another shock to his system. Sure, he’d picked out her clothes, even imagined her wearing them, thanks brain, but they were even better actually on her. Vanderwood was certain he was going insane. He couldn’t possibly like this woman, could he? She was nothing like his sexual type, and she was certainly nothing like him. He was cold and brusque and she was lively and excitable. He had to shake his head to clear it.

Cerise was confused as Vanderwood just kind of…stared at her? Her face started to turn red, but she narrowed her eyes and stared back defiantly. He was incredibly attractive, she’d noticed before, but it was impossible to ignore when she was staring at him like this. When he shook his head, she realized that this wasn’t some weird staring contest. She was about to ask him ‘What are you staring at, handsome~’ but thankfully, his talking saved her from embarrassing herself.

“Alright, let’s head down then…For cover story purposes, you’re a family friend, and I’m showing you around Korea.” That would make more sense than, girlfriend because of the separate rooms, and it made a lot more sense for his brain continuing to function. Cerise just listened as he led her down the stairs to the restaurant. It seemed simple enough to her, easy to remember, not to mention she didn’t look completely Korean, so the story would hold more merit. Good thinking on his part!

Vanderwood made their order at the restaurant, and the staff was pretty prompt with taking it, spending a little extra time attempting to chat with them, which he was sure was because the waitress was interested him. He pretty much ignored her. Cerise was just surprised at how fast their order was taken and their waitress seemed super friendly to her. She was liking this place already.

He wasn’t talking much, which was boring, and to avoid sitting there in awkward silence, Cerise looked around curiously. Normally, she would just use her phone to keep her attention, but the poor little throw away phone just couldn’t keep up and ended up frustrating her, doing more harm than good. Her followers would just be even happier when she returned.

Vanderwood scanned the restaurant for any sign of trouble, anyone looking their way unnecessarily. Mostly, he saw the usual reaction of shock of people reacting to him. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, with his height, let alone just the air he gave off usually made people either uncomfortable or turned on, depending on the person. Vanderwood noted that there was one person continually sending glances their way, but he wasn’t looking at Vanderwood, he was eyeing Cerise. Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched. Could he really blame the guy? Cerise was pretty cute. That thought just made his eyebrow twitch again.

Cerise’s eyes locked with a young man’s from the next table over and he averted his gaze quickly, looking down with a large blush. As she continued to look around trying to amuse herself, she would catch him staring at her again, and she would just flash him a smile and wave before she decided she would just go talk to the flustered guy. Vanderwood was already getting more irritated with the way she was interacting with the kid, but then she was saying “Hey, I’ll be right back.” In her sing song voice, and before he could give her an answer, she had made her way to the table, pulling up a chair opposite of the young man.

Vanderwood had wanted to tell her that she would be doing no such thing and grab her wrist, but that would have been an overreaction, and he hadn’t had time to come up with an appropriate response that could keep her at his table. Instead he settled for watching her from his own seat. They were talking and laughing, and Vanderwood could feel irritation growing by the second. The more she smiled at the other guy, the more he felt his body growing tight. This wasn’t normal for him at all. Vanderwood felt…possessive. He wanted to keep her safe, and he was certain his irritation over this young guy was just the physical reaction to his sense of duty to protect her.

She was talking and laughing with the guy for a few minutes before he scribbled something down on a napkin and shyly handed it to her. Cerise thanked him with a wink before getting up and returning to her own table, sitting down with a giggle. She’d have to wait to put the number he had given her into her new phone once it was in working order. Vanderwood was almost going to say something, but as Cerise returned to the table, seemingly pleased with her conversation, the waitress appeared again with their food.

Vanderwood gave the waitress a smirk, where before he had ignored her. He needed some sort of relief for his frustration, so maybe a small bit of playing around wouldn’t be so bad. “Thanks for the food, sexy.” Her face turned red, but she made a motion to sit next to him, which he didn’t refuse. She whispered something in his ear about when she would get off work and that he should meet her after her shift. Nice, one night stand material. Just as quickly, she was gone to help her other customers.

Cerise watched the scene in front of her unfold with a slight confusion. He had seemed disinterested in everything before now. Honey gold eyes flickered between him and their waitress as the woman sat down next to him and whispered into his ear. She watched as the woman got up and walked away, scrunching her nose up before talking. “She’s…really nice?” Cerise picked up a fork to dig into some pasta that she had ordered. She noticed that even the guy she had talked to earlier was staring at their waitress. Weird.

“Nice isn’t exactly what I go for.” He speared a sausage on his fork and took a bite before noticing the waitress giving a little display. The woman seemed to drop something before letting out a quite audible ‘oops!’ then quite dramatically bending over to pick it up. Vanderwood grimaced in disgust. He wasn’t one for shows, but what he really needed was someone quick to get in and out of bed. The thought occurred to him that he really shouldn’t be getting anyone into bed for the time being, but something about Cerise’s new ‘friend’ was making him too irritated to care. The fact that even that guy was watching the woman’s display, too eagerly, only made it worse. Somehow, he’d have to help Cerise lose the guy’s number.

She was a little confused by his comment. “Go for? Oh…” So that’s what he meant by that. The exchange with the waitress made so much more sense now. Cerise shook her head, blushing from the blatant display for attention and letting herself focus on her pasta in front of her. Okay, so the waitress had forgotten her coffee. Despite how much she had wanted it, she was not about to invite that woman back over to them. Cerise was going to have to endure without that heavenly liquid crafted by the Gods themselves. Woe was her.

His eyes strayed to the waitress again. With the way this one was acting, he wasn’t entirely sure she was just a civilian. More likely, she was a fuck you and steal your wallet kind of whore. Vanderwood looked back to Cerise to realize that her coffee hadn’t arrived and raised his still gloved hand, indicating they needed the waitress to come back. She scampered over quickly. “Hey, lovely, my friend here still needs her coffee.” Vanderwood wasn’t eager to spend time with the waitress by any means, but he was paying for coffee so he’d better receive what he paid for. That was his only rule for spending money in general.

Cerise had opened her mouth to protest when he called the waitress back, but didn’t want to make a scene of it. Now, Cerise looked down and poked at her pasta some more, forgetting that she actually had to eat it. She sunk down in her chair a little and waited. If anything could brighten her spirits, coffee could. Cerise didn’t have to wait long for her coffee to get to her, which was great, but she could have done without the display of melons that the waitress was now giving Vanderwood.

The waitress had bent over to give Vanderwood a glimpse of her cleavage once she’d brought the coffee. He had to admit she had some decent curves, and now he decided to test his theory from before, leaning forward to whisper in the waitress’ ear, asking for her rate. Vanderwood caught a lock of her hair between his fingers and slid it out of his hand just as quickly. This one was definitely not a civilian with the way she so easily let him do as he pleased. She winked at him before indicating a man in another booth he’d only briefly noticed earlier. So that was the pimp.

When she was gone he went back to eating like he hadn’t done anything. Cerise was just shoveling pasta in her mouth, likely trying to distract herself too, and on some level he felt bad for the little show he’d forced her to watch, but it was all for the sake of information. He wasn’t going to use this woman’s services, she was too cheap for one and had pretended not to be a whore in the first place. If there was one thing he hated, it was a liar.

He saw the pimp approaching first, but he could tell that Cerise had noticed him too out of the corner of her eye. The man was rather plump, middle-aged, and Vanderwood could already smell him. That was not something anyone could call pleasant. Cerise had turned her head to watch curiously as the man made his way toward them. He seemed to be dressed nicely, but the closer he got, the more she noticed that he indeed did not smell nice, causing Cerise to absentmindedly scoot her chair back. Vanderwood could hardly blame her. The man leaned his hand on the table and started to talk with a crooked, toothy smile.

“Ey.” He greeted them, keeping his eyes on Cerise who replied “…ey?” cocking her head to the side. “I…like your hat?” This was really awkward. What did this guy even want? The man grinned even wider and straightened said hat. “Yeah, yeah. It’s coo ain’t it. Say listen...” Now he turned his attention to Vanderwood, putting a hand on his shoulder. Usually pimps would let the johns come to them, so as much as Vanderwood didn’t like the man anywhere near Cerise and certainly did not like the man touching him, he was going to wait and hear what the man had to say, even though his skin was starting to crawl with the need to get away from this obviously dirty person.

The pimp kept up his toothy grin the entire time, scratching at his cheek occasionally before replacing his hand on Vanderwood’s shoulder over and over. If this tall man was so interested in his girl, maybe he would make a deal for this little one…? “I saws you puttin’ the moves on my girl over there and that’s coo, that’s coo. She’s a good girl.” Now he was moving to sit down next to Vanderwood, which he allowed without a fuss even though the guy absolutely reeked, causing Cerise to scoot back further. Whatever was happening she did not feel comfortable. The vibes this man was giving off were really strange.

“I was wonderin’ if you’d be interested in a lil trade?” As soon as the mention of trade was made, Vanderwood raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” What the Hell was that supposed to mean? The nasty man continued onward, not noticing or too stupid to notice that neither of the people at the table were actually interested in what he had to say, laughing in a dry cough that grated on their ears and made Cerise shiver.

“Ya see…some mens – well a lot of dem actually, dey would pay a lot, and I mean a lot, of money to have a legal ho whos looks like a kid, like dat one dere.” The man then gestured towards Cerise. Her honey-colored eyes widened at his comments. She’d had her fair share of creepy comments directed towards her, but nothing like this. The only thing she could do was sit and stare in disbelief at what was happening. Surely Vanderwood wouldn’t give her over to a creep like this...She’d have to think of something quick just in case things went South.

Vanderwood’s eyebrow twitched as the man talked. He’d suggested one, that Cerise should be a ho, and two that she looked like a kid. There was something ugly stirring in his chest. It’s not like Cerise was that important to him, but the things this asshole was saying were definitely making Vanderwood vehemently angry. “Whatdya say? My ho for yours, I’ll even gives ya fifteen percent of her earnings.” Now he was holding his hand out to Vanderwood.

He looked over to Cerise before he looked at the pimp, giving him a smirk as he took the man’s hand, seemingly like he was going to agree. That moment, Cerise’s heart fell. She didn’t have time for the panic to set in before Vanderwood was yanking the man forward. Vanderwood was squeezing the guy’s hand like no tomorrow and pressing his taser hard into the guy’s side.

Cerise couldn’t tell what Vanderwood was threatening the man with, but he looked absolutely terrified, which served him right. She listened as Vanderwood leaned towards the man, seeing his nose crinkle in disgust at the stench. “Here’s the deal. You are going to apologize to this beautiful young woman, and then you are going to turn around and walk. You’re going to walk, and walk, and walk, until you’re out of this hotel and you’re never going to come back. In exchange, I won’t tase you to death.” Vanderwood let go of the reeking man, shoving him away with a scowl, his eyes dark and menacing. Really, the man was lucky to not be dead.

Despite the intense and even a little frightening situation, Cerise found that Vanderwood’s words were having quite the effect on here. He’d really just called her beautiful? She felt her face heat up a little despite everything happening. It was like his words held a greater weight than the ones the gross older man had said about her, as negative as they were. The smelly pimp couldn’t get away fast enough, uttering a quick, half-assed apology before he rushed out the door.

The whole establishment had their eyes on them at this point but Cerise didn’t really care. “Hey, Vanderwood…thanks for that.” She was really happy that he had been there; she didn’t know what she would have done if she had been on her own, and more importantly, the way he had fiercely defended her sent her heart into a frenzy. She’d be the first to admit that she was weak for those kinds of things in the things she read, but to have it actually happen to her?

He had been giving a dark look to those looking their way, daring them to say or do something, irritated with himself and angry at the pimp because of the display which could be of danger to Cerise and him, but her thank you brought his attention back to her. Was she blushing? Oh God, now he was blushing, and his heart was doing that strange flip thing again. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Don’t mention it. He was way out of line…Let’s pay and get back to our rooms for now.” She wasn’t about to argue with that; she wanted to get away from that place as soon as possible.

The waitress was terrified of him now, bringing his ticket and taking it and his money back as quickly as possible. He paid her no mind, his interest soured over her pimp, although he would love a cig or something to relax, but it was just as well. Vanderwood led Cerise back up to the room, and to her relief, they made it there with no incident. It seemed like her life had gotten significantly more complicated since moving to Korea again.

Vanderwood could feel his skin crawling, still thanks to that disgusting piece of shit having touched him so much. His OCD could occasionally be coupled with germophobia, thanks to the need for everything around him to be so clean, but he noticed Cerise’s phones still both clutched in her hand as he held her door open.

Cerise turned around when he spoke. “I think…I owe you transferring your phone files now.” Her phone…she had almost forgotten about it with all of that commotion going on. Almost. She nearly squealed as she jumped to grab her new phone and the old one, handing them both to him excitedly. “This is going to be so great! I have so much to catch up on.”

He snorted softly at her excitement, taking the phones and grabbing the cord from his pocket to connect the two. “You’re really cute when you’re excited.” Fuck. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. Nothing to do about it now. Vanderwood had meant to pretend that he hadn’t said anything but then she responded along with a playful punch and wink. “You’re not so bad yourself~”

God, his face was red. Vanderwood went through the new phone, in part to distract himself but also because he needed to ensure once again that the geotags were off. He just couldn’t control himself or act normal with Cerise. Once he was done with her phones, he handed the new one to her before forcing his mind to work on putting together sentences.

Cerise was already burying herself in the new phone, tapping away, only stopping when he began talking to her again. “Ground rules. One, you don’t leave this room unless I’m with you. Two, you do not tell anyone where you are staying or why you’re staying there.” He looked her in the eyes, locking brown to honey gold, wanting to make sure she understood how important what he was saying was. “If you need anything at all, I’m right next door. If you hear something strange, see anyone following you or looking at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. I’ll protect you, Cerise, okay?” Why was it so important to him that she believe him? It was just about making his life easier while he took care of her, certainly…No, there was something to it; he just didn’t understand it.

“Okay.” She nodded, indicating that she understood what he was saying. Cerise could totally lay low for a few days, catch up on her shows and blog posts. Especially since she now had a hold of this beautiful new phone. Piece of cake! After today, Cerise had no doubt in her mind that he would protect her, which made her feel comforted even when she was supposedly trying to get away from two deranged maniacs. Cerise smiled and stared at him for a moment, his face and especially his eyes looked really intense in that moment; it was a perfect opportunity for…She quickly snapped a picture with her new phone, for the first time right in front of his face, giving him a wink. “Sorry, couldn’t help it~”

Damn it. Cerise was going to be the death of him. He already felt like he was having a heart attack every time she did anything but her wink was just…not helping. At least she seemed to be listening to the ground rules, so that was good, although the way she’d just taken that photo made his eye twitch. Maybe she would literally be the death of him. “I have the feeling you aren’t sorry at all.” Vanderwood hated his picture taken, let alone the attention he was apparently getting from her followers. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, even Seven had already called him Vanderhottie in a text he’d checked while Cerise had been sleeping in the car. Really, it was just one big security risk too, particularly if he started getting recognized on the street.

Vanderwood needed a cig, but he just sighed. “Do me a favor and make that the last one you take of me, alright?” He was far gentler with her than he would have been with anyone else, but now he decided it was best to get out of there before she tried again. Cerise seemed like the type to do it again simply because he asked her not to. Vanderwood ducked into his own room, flopping onto the bed and sending a few messages to Seven before staring at the ceiling.

Cerise was somewhat disappointed, almost having wanted to snap another quick picture just for defiance’s sake before he slipped away. Oh well. She spent the rest of her day lounging about her hotel room, getting accustomed to her new phone. It was everything she’d hoped it would be and more. After about three full hours getting caught up on her social media, she’d done pretty much everything she could with it. It looked like her followers were just eating up the previous pictures of Vanderwood she had taken. Cerise pulled up the one she’d taken of him earlier that day. If she posted it, it was sure to be a hit, but she couldn’t help but want to keep just that one to herself. She noticed that he was rather quiet; she couldn’t hear anything beyond the door. Was he even in there? Must have been a secret agent thing.

He was lost in his thoughts for the rest of the day, only slipping out of them when Seven sent him some files of information to on Jessica or Drawl to review. When Seven sent him a file on Cerise, Vanderwood opened it instantly, but he could only get past the first sentence stating her age and birth date before he felt like he was invading her privacy. She was quite a bit younger than him…but he didn’t care. Vanderwood bit his tongue.

There was something happening to him with Cerise, and it wasn’t simply needing a fix, was it? He was getting hopelessly attached to her, and he needed to take care of Drawl and Jessica soon. She needed to get back to her normal life, a normal life without him. The fact that the thought genuinely hurt him had him worried. He’d need to get that done sooner rather than later to avoid anything happening between the two of them.

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Room 101

The Corporation’s legendary Maid of Orleans studios have, at one time or another, been frequented by most of the famous musicians in the land.  Once home to Ray’s Bionic Glock Shop, creators of incidental music for early television programmes, its endlessly long and confusing corridors spawned a myriad of crazy sound sculptures including the Doctor What Theme. And for the past sixteen years, inexplicably, it has been one of my places of work.  Hello Cleveland.

It’s 7am on Sunday morning and I’m parking up outside the building’s long white façade.  Upon entering, the security guard on Reception looks, quite frankly, put out to have to engage with another human being. I feel the same. It’s too early. Come 8am today we are going to have our work cut out because a film crew are invading with their own unique type of bizarre military organised chaos. They are making a TV documentary series about the history of electronic music. They will be filming Ray showing off a vintage bionic glock from a collection belonging to the Corporation.  Which is curated by my friend and yours, the legendary Sir Roger Andrews, head of everything.  

I use the term ‘curated’ loosely. It’s mostly bits and pieces packaged in bubble wrap and hidden in crumpled cardboard boxes stuffed into wonky metal cupboards around the building.  Some items are ‘filed’ in Room 101, more of which later. The important thing is that Roger Andrews recognises the important difference between, say a piece of extremely valuable legacy equipment worthy of being exhibited in a museum, with a load of old tat. Which no-one else does. 

Roger Andrews has set this booking up.  In the trade, it is known as a ‘Roger Andrews Special’.  This is when Roger Andrews dreams up something unfathomably complicated in his head and it’s everyone else’s job to try and reverse-engineer what he might be thinking.

Roger is a small, quiet and helpful man.  I say man, he is actually half man, half rucksack. He walks quite fast but prefers to travel using a combination of white magic and MIDI message, and can easily vanish to any room in Maid Of Orleans and back in a split second.  The catchphrase during these bookings is “Have you seen Roger?”. Whereupon he sometimes apparitions, already having just done what you were about to do, and sometimes not, but then he appears when you phone him. None of his devices have ever run out of battery power. The trade-off being that precisely one minute prior to any live radio transmissions broadcasted from Maid of Orleans, the equipment has a tendency to drop out and then inexplicably restore itself, having been perfectly fine during the soundcheck.

The entire building is dark, and so I play a little game of Automatic or Not? with the lights.  Interspersed by a few rounds of Switch Hunt.

I pull a giant lever to power up Room 333, where Ray and his fellow pioneers of early sampling used to work.  Whiling away their days tweaking test tone oscillators with their toes, hitting piano strings with whistling kettles, and running five mile tape loops to The Mothership and back via a secret hatch in the basement leading down to the Bakerloo line. This is one of two spaces I am to offer the film crew.  The other is Studio 5 downstairs.

As well as the famous bionic glock, Ray will need two old tape machines, a rare vocoder and a vintage analogue synthesizer (now worth two million guilders).  Roger has told me that he would set everything up in advance.  However, there is no sign of any equipment anywhere.

I head downstairs to Studio 5 to throw a few more giant switches and play a few more rounds of Automatic or Not?  No gear. Hmm. 

My phone rings. A man called Luke and his crew of thousands have arrived at Reception.  I head upstairs.  Looking at the throng, I have no idea who is who, and just say hello to anyone and everyone then instantly forget their name.  Aha.  Here is someone who looks organised.  “Hi, my name is Pop, I say.  “So is mine” says Pop.  “That’s easy!”  says Pop. “Yes Pop, it is.”  Pop seems to be in charge.

Luke asks me where to load in.  He now seems to be in charge. I explain that one space is upstairs and one is downstairs, but they are a few miles apart and it rather depends where the filming is going to be. And that depends on where the equipment is. It is time to send a 16 bit trigger message to Roger Andrews’ brain via carrier pigeon. He generally responds just before you press ‘Send’.  In the meantime, Luke and I do the sixty mile round trip to view the two spaces and back, whereupon Roger Andrews both calls me and apparitions in Reception at the same time.

“Morning!” I exclaim. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today but I sure am glad to see you”.  “Ah yes, it got a bit complicated.  I’ll explain later” he says.  He never explains. “We’re in Studio 2.”  My phone goes again.  It’s Pete from the film company.  Pete seems to be even more in charge.  “Hello Pop” he says. “I’m in charge and I’m rather concerned you haven’t got the message that we’re in Studio 2”.  “It’s ok, I have just received it.”  I reply.  “Sorry about the delay and the confusion.  Load in at Door D.”  The security guard interrupts me. “Because the crew has more than twenty people, the unreliable goods lift is therefore out of action.” He says.  “Load in at Door C”.  “Load in at Door C” I repeat pointlessly to Luke.  “Let me show you where that is.”  We do another sixty mile round trip.  “You’re going to have to carry all your gear down the steps.  Sorry once again for the delay and confusion”.  

Roger disappears to start setting up all the crazy stuff.  As I mentioned, one of Roger’s many unique talents is hoarding old equipment. I have never known one person to gather up so much near-obsolete gear in my life. It lives everywhere, but most of all in Room 101 in a backwater of Maid of Orleans.  Room 101 is a nightmare.  It is full to the rafters with shelves upon shelves crammed with unsorted gear.  

The master key for Room 101 is long-since lost, probably inside its four walls. In order to get in there you have to go to the engineers’ room and borrow their spare key which is attached to a brass candlestick so that no one can lose it.  If their room is locked, which it is today, you have to do the sixty mile round trip to Reception to borrow their key, which is attached to a concert grand piano so that it definitely cannot leave the building.

Roger teleports to Reception, puts the piano and the key in his rucksack and disappears.

Meanwhile, I open up Studio 2 and play a quick game of Switch Hunt in the control room.  Hundreds of people appear, all of whom seem to be in charge.  They start setting up tables of croissants and asking for access to WIFI, which only works every other day.  It never works if the visiting artists are taking a flight or staying in a hotel within the next 36 months.

Just after the crew have loaded in, Pete appears and says “Hey, this isn’t the right studio.  It’s next door’.  The crew then do some kind of crazy stop-frame animation thing, with tables of croissants and tea urns jumping from studio to studio all around the building, until everyone is in the right place and logged onto WIFI.  It takes about 25 milliseconds.

Meanwhile Roger keeps disappearing and reappearing, during which time the other Pop and I try and reverse-engineer where he is by looking at some recce photos on Pop’s phone.  I play detective and try to guess which room he is in by the distinctive vintage colour tone of the seamless flooring in the picture.  I get it wrong about five times, during which we cover another few hundred miles of the building. We later discover Roger has been in a secret room that no one else has ever noticed. It houses Ray’s famous bionic glock, one of the world’s rarest electronic instruments.

I give up trying to find Roger and instead focus on collecting spanners and kettle leads and GPO to igranic connectors.  I am quite good at this as I’ve tidied them all up into a special entropy-free zone.

Whilst we are setting up, a camera lady, who seems to be in charge, starts randomly wheeling valuable kit around to make the frame look pretty.  She seems completely oblivious to the fact that the items are (a) priceless (b) plugged in to power and attached to each other with cables and (c) that I am lying on the floor right next to them like a car mechanic trying to find inaccessible output sockets of unknown connector-type.  She does her best to run over my precious head at every available opportunity.  I glare at her incredulously, which has zero impact. So I ask her to stop it. Immediately she is at it again. If she takes Roger Andrews out we’ll really be in trouble.

Then my phone rings. I do another sixty mile round trip to Reception to collect Ray. Ray is not in charge. He is going to be interviewed about the history of Ray’s Bionic Glock Shop. He is wearing a kaftan with a brown lab coat on top. His glasses are upside down and he merrily spouts endless fascinating facts about the former activities that lay behind the 527 doors that we pass along the corridor before taking the stairs down to the studio.

From there on in it all runs very straightforwardly. Roger Andrews evaporates.  We record for one minute whereupon the massive crew pack everything away via stop-frame animation teamwork in about 30 seconds. “Bye” says the other Pop. “I’ll never forget you!” “Bye!” I reply, and instantly forget her.

It then takes a couple of weeks for my weary head and body to work out where to put all the incredibly heavy equipment back.  During the course of this, I find new routes and several other rooms I have never seen before, and probably will never again.

The building falls silent and somewhat eery once more.  I throw some things into Roger Andrew’s scary lair and shut the door, slipping the latch and turning out the lights as I go.

[hetalia-giant-tiny]

The Flutist’s Roommate - Part II

A/N: Pfft, so much for this being just two parts.

Gil couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the spot where the tiny figure had vanished. Had he really seen what he thought he had seen? It was impossible! And yet… He looked down at the syrup cup in his hand, and the string attached to its handle. 

He’d been reaching for the tiny jacket hooked on the other end when something caught his eye. On the floor, there was a line of sticky, shiny spots traveling from the spilled puddle of syrup across the floor in the direction the tiny figure had run.

Footprints. 

Leaving the rest of the evidence on the floor, Gil slowly crept along after the trail, holding his breath as he imagined what he might find. Or, really, who. But the little guy had to have been amazingly fast, because he’d hidden completely out of sight even when Gil turned the corner to the living room. And the footprints were becoming harder to make out as the syrup wore off the bottoms of tiny boots, meaning the guy could have gone anywhere. (At least, he thought it was a guy. Gil hadn’t exactly gotten a good look at him.)

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, the German got up to go back to the kitchen. He had a mess to clean up and a lot to think about. One thing he knew without a doubt was that he wanted to see his surprise guest again. The idea to set out traps to catch him flittered in and back out that his brain just as quickly, immediately discarded. The guy had been scared enough just being spotted, and that was just not awesome. Maybe he could lure him out instead?

Gil picked up the abandoned bag, carefully opening it up to try and guess what he’s been up to in the first place.

The blueberries were not what he’d expected. He wasn’t quite sure what was, just that it wasn’t blueberries. 

Thinking it over, Gil looked over at the messy counter and the open container of the things. He’d been getting food? Food that he hadn’t been able to take with him. The little trickle of guilt that snuck in for being the reason behind that just firmed up Gilbert’s resolve. He was going to find the tiny guy and help him out. Starting with putting some even better food out. But where to put it? He didn’t know where he’d gone!

Frustrated, he grabbed a rag to wipe the spilled powdered sugar off the counter and onto the floor. It will be easier to just sweep it up with the rest. In the floor needed a good mopping up anyway, with the sticky syrup mass, now made even more obvious with the sugar cookie to it. Like little snowy prints he could see even from standing up.

Stopping as it struck him, he looked at the sugar, and the floor, and then the sugar again. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Delicately, he removed the extra sugar and stared at the clear prints left behind.

That was awesome. Just like a regular detective.

Giddy, Gil followed the powder coated footprints, gently dusting the trail and blowing away the excess every foot or so until he got to the bookcase that’d been screwed to the wall to keep it from being moved. He twisted himself to lean down more, half expecting to find the tiny person hiding beneath it.  But there was nothing.

Well, almost nothing. The German man blinked and moved down for a closer look. For a baseboard under a bookcase, it was really clean down there… Gil reached and ran a finger along the top, gasping as a little piece swung open. There was a door there?!

His heart pounded and he just didn’t know what to do at first. There was actually a tiny door in the wall. Even if he couldn’t see anything inside other than a hole to the space between the walls, it was so awesome!

“Are you still there, little guy?” Gil called quietly. He didn’t really know where he could have gone, but surely if there was a door, then there was more than he could see from out here. “Sorry if I scared you. I’m not going through hurt you, I promise.”

The fact that there was no response didn’t come as a surprise, but it was still disappointing. Gil waited a while longer, holding his breath in hopes of hearing something before giving up and straightening his back with a groan. Poor thing was probably scared, but he really wanted to see him again. Just had to figure out how to coax him out.

Pondering it over, Gil’s mind wandered back over to the little pack full of food. Even if the guy could obviously scavenge up his own food (Gil didn’t mind enough to call it stealing), maybe he could offer better stuff. Starting with the syrup he’d been trying to take when he’d been interrupted. Something that Gil had to feel a little guilty about. Especially with how freaked out that little guy had been.

Making a decision, Gil pushed himself onto his feet and headed right for the kitchen. First, he had a mess to clean up, but after that, he was going to put together the best supply kit that a tiny person like that could have ever seen. And he was going to wash the stuff that’d gotten left behind, because it was all sticky from the syrup puddle. 

One hour and a search through the entire apartment later, Gil was satisfied with the care package he’d put together. If it were bigger, it’d be something even Ludwig would be part of, he was sure. Flour, sugar, a bit of wurst he’d wrapped in wax paper, two little containers with syrup and beer sealed up tightly so they wouldn’t spill. And, of course, some of those blueberries that the little guy has been trying to take with him. And they were small enough for someone that size to bite into. It all made sense to him. At least as much sense as a man the size of his hand did. 

He set the whole thing up under the bookcase, along with a letter written in the smallest handwriting he could manage and be sure it was actually legible. Gil was really tempted to set up a hidden camera to watch for him, but surely that would be a huge breach of the trust he was hoping to earn from the little guy. And there was also the trouble of not owning a miniature camera in the first place. So, he would just have to wait and check back every so often. 

He really, really hated waiting. 

To distract himself, Gilbert went back to his practice for at least a little while, since he’d been pulled away from it before. Back to routine as usual, except for the fact that he made himself go and practice in his bedroom instead of the living room where he’d be tempted to just keep walking over to see if anyone showed up for the gift. Meaning that other than to glance at it before he went to bed, he left it alone for the rest of the night. Clearly, it was too early to expect his guest to come back out after his scare.

Of course, thinking about his discovery all night meant that Gil hardly got any sleep and, as a result, slept through his first alarm. In the mad rush to get ready and out the door in time, he completely forgot about the tiny man hiding in his balls and the care package he’d left for him. In fact, neither even entered his mind and tell he gotten home again that afternoon and saw the letter left out for the tiny man, in a different spot than he’d left it, and open.

Heart in his throat, Gil bent down to pick up the little piece paper, proof that there had been SOMEONE getting into his care package. Mice didn’t carefully open letters. And then something caught his eye. There was new writing on the back, in a different handwriting, those sort of awkwardly shaped letters you made when you were trying to write big. 

’Thank you.’

Gil’s face split into a huge grin at the simple little message. He’d liked the package! Enough to write back, at least. Looking around frantically to see if he was still around, he didn’t spot anyone. But still, he couldn’t be too upset. He’d gotten a response!

The German student scrambled for another piece of paper to write again, trying to hold back from flooding the paper with questions, but he just had to ask some. What was his name? How long had he been tiny like that? How long had he been living there? Did he need anything else? It would be easy for Gil put together another care package. He tucked the newest letter into the crack where the hidden door opened, along with a piece of chocolate set right outside. Did tiny people even have chocolate? He didn’t imagine they could make it on their own. Well, hopefully, the man would enjoy it anyway. Even his super serious baby brother liked chocolate. 

Letter in place, he headed to the kitchen to make himself dinner, heating up a frozen meal on the stove. Once he’d plated it up, he turned to the table to eat. And froze. 

The tiny blonde man stood on the table, not moving a muscle except a fidget with the letter in his hands. Eyes meeting, he visibly gulped before speaking up.

“Matthew. My name is Matthew.”

[ecclesiarch-tato]

I Am A Mindless Building Machine

 So I recently stumbled across something long lost to me: motivation (and also energy). Seizing advantage of this, I built every unbuilt model I could find, then went out, bought more models, and built them too. Pictures beneath a read more, on the assumption that most people don’t want to look at a very long post containing unpainted, unkitbashed models.

First up were some Crisis Suits I picked up last time I went and played at my LGS. I gave one a Cyclic Ion Blaster from the commander kit, because why not? I was also sure to include some flamers, because auto hits are good. The drones will probably be run as a separate unit, since stupidly large drone hordes are fun. This is also the first time I’ve built an entire Crisis Suit team without attaching at least one leg the wrong way, which I count as a victory.

Next up were some Sniper Drones I’ve had kicking around for a month or so. Let it be known that I despise resin. I left the Firesight partially unassembled, to make my life easier when I finally get around to painting him.

After that was this Fire Warrior team with pulse rifles. I used the bonding knife from a Crisis Suit kit instead of the one that came with these, because I like the way its little flag thing flaps in the wind. I also gave the Shas’ui a markerlight, and overall I think he looks pretty sweet. The whole squad have those little bullet-looking things that are technically only for Breachers but I don’t care because the look cool. Again, the drones will probably be added to the horde.

Next came the Tactical Squad from the Kill Team box, featuring Brother Klargus and his Armor of Many Purity Seals (front row, far left. He has 14 in total, with plans to add more). They were my first Space Marines and overall I enjoyed building them, though there was an incident involving mixed-up arms. A lore post for my homebrew chapter should be coming up soonish (at the moment it is slightly closer to completion than the lore post on my homebrew Sept, which has been sitting in my drafts for almost as long as this blog has existed).

Then there was this guy, a Space Marine Captain I found sitting on the shelf of my LGS and bought because he looked cool and I needed an HQ. Once again, I despise resin. I added a helmet from the Tactical Squad because I can’t paint faces a veteran of many conflicts such as this guy would know to wear a goddamn helmet. He also got the power sword from that kit, since his model didn’t actually come with enough weapons to kit out a Captain. He had a servo-skull buddy, the the support wasn’t very strong. I might try to paint it separately and then add it back on. A brief delve into SM lore told me that he’s apparently a 9th company captain (the box said “Captain Master of the Relics”), though he might end up as a 10th depending on how my lore shapes up.

Last was this Arkanaut Admiral I impulse-bought back when the Kharadrons Overlords were first announced. I really like this (and really all of their) models, but nobody at my LGS plays Age of Sigmar, so I probably won’t ever buy more of them.

(I apologize for the quality, the only camera I have is a phone and my setup is literally “put the models on my desk, bend the desk light over to shine towards their front)

Anyway, next up I’ll be test-painting a Tactical Marine, to make sure the color scheme I mocked up doesn’t look terrible once it’s been given physical form.

[dnodes18]

New Year Bathroom Remodel https://thd.co/2FK99dg

Rick LaFaver of Wood Work Life gave his mother in law a house warming gift of a lifetime. With a little help from The Home Depot, he completed a gorgeous bathroom remodel in her new home. Find out his tips on how to pull off a DIY bathroom remodel project.

New Year Bathroom Remodel

This holiday season, I felt like doing something really over the top for my mother in law. She has been so helpful this year and just moved into her own place for the first time, so I felt like really hitting one out of the park with a bathroom remodel. The bathroom in her house had some major layout issues, but fortunately no major structural issues (short of being in a house built in 1895 and the complications that creates.)

For this bathroom remodel I wanted to give a super premium look and feel, but I wanted to minimize costs by making the process as simple as I could. I built the whole bathroom around Delta’s UPstile system, which gets you that custom tiled shower feel while still just technically being an alcove shower insert. Even so this is going to a huge undertaking, and I am on a bit of a time crunch, but there is only one way to eat an elephant…one bite at a time.

4 Considerations to Make Prior to Starting a DIY Bathroom Remodel

There are obviously a ton of things to consider before you start a bathroom remodel, but here are the top 4 for me in no particular order.

1. Anticipate potential problems to avoid road blocks

With any home DIY project, you should take the opportunity to address any glaring issues with the layout, functionality, or design of a space. BUT, some of these problems can be colossal undertakings and can derail an otherwise simple project. Before I started this project, I wrote a list of any problems I could think of and researched what each of them would entail.

In this bathroom the challenges I chose to take on were: the layout of the tub/shower, an incorrectly vented tub drain (often the cause of a slow draining tub), and an incorrectly installed tile floor. The stones I chose to leave unturned…the lack of square and plum in any room in the house (no one will ever fix this,) the bowing ceiling/roof (this will need to be addressed when a new roof goes on this house) and replacing the glass louvred door and wood framed window.

2. Be mindful of timeline and budget

You can do anything, if you have the time and/or skill.  It is obviously important to keep every project to a timeline and a budget or things will get out of hand real quick.  Where will you spend your money? Where will you spend your time? In other words, what will you do or even try to figure out how to do, and what will you hire a contractor for?  I am personally pretty comfortable with basic electrical, carpentry, and drywalling but plumbing is not my thing.  Since I wanted to finish this in a month, rather than learning how to fix the plumbing issues left behind from a hack job remodel in a hundred year old house, I hired a plumber.

Looking back at this project and seeing the finish on my walls, I wish I would’ve also hired out the drywalling and taping, those finishing touches can really make a difference.

3. Prepare for permits and inspections

Permits vary a lot from city to city and state to state and I am no expert but your local municipality’s website will probably be able to point you in the right direction.  Typically you have the obvious stuff plumbing and electrical permits, an inspections after demo, another one after electrical and plumbing rough in, and the final inspection after the project is complete.

Please, do your research. Nothing will derail a project like having to rip everything out and do it all over again.

4. Plan your project in manageable steps

Define needs to come before or after what to make for the smoothest process. If you are having a plumber come out, try not cover any of the pipes, or finish drywalling beforehand.  Make sure the tub and sink are on site to get the most out of your plumber’s time. If you are going to paint, (which you should even if you don’t have to, a fresh coat of paint is always so refreshing) try and keep all the finishes out of the space so you can paint as quickly as possible without worrying about masking, drips, and overspray. Figuring out the logistics ahead of time just makes everything so much easier.

Ok enough with mental gymnastics, let’s get to work.

Tear it up!

Demo is always my favorite part of a DIY project, taking a very large hammer to a room you hated is cathartic for some reason. Don’t forget to keep your mess contained because unlike on TV you actually have to clean up the mess after demo day. Make sure you rent a dumpster to haul away all the mess.

A reciprocating saw and a demo hammer can be a huge help during a tear down, I actually used the RIDGID MEGAMax, which is both for my remodel.

Fortunately, the previous installer didn’t properly bed in the subfloor with mortar, so even though I have had to re-grout this bathroom 3 times already, it came up super easily during demo. Everything else was easy enough to cut out or remove.

Rough In

For this project, rough in was a bit more involved than your average bathroom remodel. In a lot of bathroom remodels with an alcove tub (walls on 3 sides, only one long side of the tub accessible often identified as left drain or right drain) you could simply drop the Delta UPstile tub or shower system right in with little modification. In my bathroom, I had to rotate the tub 90 degrees and move the drain which meant I had to frame an entire new shower stall and a new tub rough in.

This is actually my second bathroom remodel this year and my second using Delta hardware. I have been nothing but satisfied with the ease of installation.  Even the lower-priced models of the Delta hardware come with hardware and rough in kits that simplify install and eliminate a lot of the pitfalls of generic “builder grade” faucets.

While the plumber was there, I also set the bathtub into a bed of mortar and hooked up the drain. My plumber didn’t want to appear on camera, so I didn’t get any shots of that.

Installing the Delta UPstile System

My first bathroom remodel this year had a full custom-tiled tub surround. While it doesn’t replace the look of a subway-tiled tub surround, the Delta UPstile system is A LOT more simple and affordable than a custom tiled tub surround.

First, there is no waterproofing to worry about; once you caulk your seams, you’re good. Second, you don’t have to first install cement board so no cement dust or special cutting wheels to worry about. Third, you don’t need to involve yet another trade in your bathroom remodel and that much more time and money to tile the whole surround.

All of these things are true with any tub or shower insert, but with the UPstile system, you still get the look of a subway-tiled custom shower install. You even get a slot to install your own glass or decorative tile insert.

The decorative tile insert is designed to be used with 6” mesh backed tile squares and 1/8th inch grout lines (6 ¼” slot), but you can easily install other tile as well. Since the shower surround is made of pronamel, which doesn’t bond with mortar, you have to use silicone-based kitchen adhesive to attach the tiles for the insert. I used DAP Kwik seal plus kitchen and bath adhesive in clear. This is super easy to do, but do give the manufacturer’s FULL dry time before removing the spacers. Kitchen adhesive remains a lot more flexible than mortar when partially cured, so if you take the spacer out early you can really ruin the look. I cut some 2 and half inch by 8 inch tiles on a wet cut tile saw to fit the slot to continue to the subway tile look.

After installing the tile, you can treat it like usual and grout using whatever color you like. I recommend a bright white grout to match the rest of the tub surround kit.

Tiling the Floor

For the floor, I went with a wood look porcelain floor tile from The Home Depot’s Home Decorator collection. Wood look tile has come a long way; it used to be 7 or 8 prints duplicated ad nauseum, but the new stuff is great, I didn’t see a single repeat in 6 boxes. Pro Tip: If you ever want to see some cool and unique products for your next project, go to The Home Depot’s website and search: “Home Decorators Collection.”

The problem the previous installer had left me behind was a blessing and a curse. I had re-grouted this floor three times because he didn’t put a bed of mortar under the cement board subfloor. At least it was easy to tear up the old tile floor though. After installing the new cement board subfloor, I installed the floor.

When cutting porcelain tile like this to get clean scores, use and angle grinder and a continuous rim diamond blade, I used a Ridgid brushless grinder and a Ridgid continuous diamond blade. Another pro tip I ran across when designing the bathroom: With wood look tile, pick a grout that is one tone darker than the darkest tone in the tile in my case this led me to charcoal grout.

Installing the Toilet and Sink

Installing a toilet is super easy and it is usually the first thing I do when I move into a new house. I am not incredibly comfortable sitting on someone else’s throne. It is as simple as press fitting the wax ring, dropping it on and tightening a few bolts. It is important to level the toilet with a few composite shims and tighten down the toilet bolts evenly so you don’t crack the porcelain. In my case, I also had to use an adapter for the cast iron waste stack. but otherwise no big deal.

For the sink and vanity, I chose another piece from the The Home Depot Home Decorator’s Collection. I wanted a vanity that matched the wood look flooring and added a bunch of storage, so I went with a 3 door vanity with a weather oak finish to match the floor.

I used Delta’s Venetian bronze faucet hardware kit to finish it off.  Again, I love the equipment this kit came with. Rather than running your own braided hoses from the water supply, this kit comes with its own integrated pex fittings. There’s something about a really nice sink faucet in a kitchen or a bathroom that just really puts the cherry on top of a remodel.

I approach kitchen and bathroom remodels using luxury car design philosophy, the contact surfaces are the most important elements to give a space a luxurious look and feel. Everything from the door knob, to the faucet handle, to the toilet flusher should be quality materials and interesting textures, these little details really bring a spaces feel together.

Trim Paint and DONE

FINALLY, I mean this bathroom went quick and it was pretty easy, but just the sum of all of it in one month was just…a lot. One of the most enjoyable parts of any project is putting on the trim, those last little touch ups of paint and putting on the finishing touches. With this one, I was able to really decorate it to get all the oohs and aahs from my mother in law.

After a month of making all manners of dust and mess in her house, I was finally able to show my mother in law Ruth the bathroom remodel. I think the look on her face said it all, but she loved it. It is such a nice space to just soak in a bath and go through your morning routine for work. I have always said a bathroom is like a mattress, you are going to use it everyday, so you might as well make it as nice as you can.

By properly framing the wall for the new alcove, adding insulation and getting rid of a poorly installed glass block window, the bathroom is a lot more comfortable now as well. I hope it serves her well, Merry Christmas, Nana – from me and family!

The post New Year Bathroom Remodel appeared first on The Home Depot Blog.

Rick LaFaver

[andylocksmithtipsntricks]

Wyze Sense Starter Kit Review

Wyze Sense Starter Kit

4/5

Versatile sensors

Easy installation

No professional monitoring

View on Amazon

Read Review

Wyze keeps its pricing and packages very simple. You need at least one Wyze camera and the Wyze Sense Starter Kit for your initial setup, then you can add on sensors as you wish (up to 100). The smallest number of contact sensors you can purchase is a four-pack, but at less than $5 a sensor, they’re about 75% cheaper than other DIY sensors on the market, like sensors from SimpliSafe and SmartThings.

Wyze Sense Pros and Cons

Pros

Tiny sensors

Low price tag

Quick installation

Intuitive app

Customizable notifications

Cons

No professional monitoring

No external alarm

Limited smart home integration

Wyze Sense Pricing

Keep in mind that unlike many other DIY systems, Wyze is a self-monitored system, so there are no monthly fees or contracts. But that also means that the only alert you’ll get that a door or window has been opened will be on your smartphone. The contact and motion detection sensors aren’t tied to any external alarm to scare off intruders, and there’s no call center keeping an eye on things while you’re away.

Price Included Equipment Warranty and Returns

Wyze Sense Starter Kit Contact Sensor Kit Motion Sensor $19.99 $19.99 $5.99 Wyze sensor bridge 2 contact sensors 1 motion sensor 4 contact sensors 1 motion sensor 1-year limited warranty 30-day return policy 1-year limited warranty 30-day return policy 1-year limited warranty 30-day return policy View on Amazon View on Amazon View on Amazon

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*Contact sensor kit and motion sensor require Wyze sensor bridge.

Tech and Equipment

The first thing we noticed about the sensors was their size: they’re tiny! Each contact sensor is only about 1 inch square and 3/10 inch thick, making them both inconspicuous and versatile. The motion sensor is a 1 x 1 x 1/2 inch box. Each sensor runs on replaceable lithium coin batteries (included) that Wyze says will last about 12 months with regular use. Red indicator lights on each contact sensor illuminate whenever a door is opened or closed—same for the motion sensor when motion is detected.

Unlike other systems that require a hub, Wyze uses a bridge—which is also very small—that plugs into the back of your Wyze Cam or Wyze Cam Pan. The bridge communicates with the sensors using radio frequencies, and it lets the sensors use the camera’s connection to your Wi-Fi to send signals to the app without using up a lot of power from the sensors themselves. This means that the batteries in the sensors will last longer than other sensors on the market that connect directly to your Wi-Fi.

The motion sensor works using radiant heat, so it will detect people and pets without giving you false alarms from passing cars or lights turning on and off. The bad news about this kind of motion sensor—and about Wyze products in general—is that none are designed for outdoor use, so if you need exterior coverage you’ll have to look elsewhere. Wyze has announced plans for outdoor cameras sometime in 2019, but so far no word on outdoor motion sensors or other products we’d like to see in the Wyze lineup, like motion sensor lights.

What’s in the Box

1 motion sensor

2 contact sensors

1 sensor bridge

1 quick start guide

1 pin

2 sets of sensor decals

Smart Home Applications

One of the reasons Wyze sensors are so small is thanks to their proprietary communication protocol that uses an entirely different language (radio frequency) than Zigbee and Z-Wave devices. Unfortunately, this special language means they can’t communicate directly with any other non-Wyze smart devices in your home.

While this shortcoming means Wyze probably isn’t the best smart security option out there, the good news is that Wyze is designed to work with IFTTT (If This Then That), Amazon Alexa, and Google Home. You can use these platforms to create scenes that incorporate your Wyze sensors with your other compatible devices to create a smart home. The bad news is that it might not always work with those platforms. We tested a Wyze IFTTT applet that’s supposed to use geofencing to “turn off push notifications when I am home,” but we continued to receive push notifications even when inside the geofenced home area.

Many of the other IFTTT applets do the same things you can already do through the Wyze app, like getting push notifications when motion is detected, so they’re a little redundant. But we do like the ability to use your Amazon Echo Dot or Google Home to enable or disable motion detection with voice commands when you wake up or leave the house.

Installation and Setup

Installing the Wyze Sense Starter Kit was a breeze. It took only about 10 minutes in total to set up all three sensors, and it was so simple even a child could do it. The only tool you need is a tiny pin device used to power on each sensor.

The hardest part of installation was deciding where I wanted my sensors to be. Since I already have a security system covering my doors and windows, I decided to have some fun with the little Wyze sensors. I put one on my refrigerator door, and one on the bedroom door of my hermit teenage son, so I could be alerted when he emerged from his cave. Each sensor has a peel-off adhesive backing to make it easy to attach to any surface.

App and Features

Unlike my current security system that only alerts me that a sensor has been tripped (e.g., “Alert: Back Door”) the Wyze app tells you whether a contact is open or closed (e.g., “Back Door Closed”). The app is well thought out, with customizable push notifications that let you determine which events trigger an alert, like when a door opens, when it closes, or when it’s been left open longer than a specified amount of time. The app storage keeps a history of all recent activity, with the most recent events listed first, and it shows the battery life and signal strength of all connected sensors.

In testing, I set the app to notify me when my fridge door was left open for longer than six seconds. I did get an alert when this happened, but the alert said “Fridge door has been open longer than 1 minute.” But when I checked with my kids and then tested it myself, the one-minute alert was sent after it had been open for six seconds. It may simply have a minimum open notification time of one minute.

How Wyze Sense Stacks Up

Both SimpliSafe and SmartThings are DIY systems with sensors similar to Wyze, and both are standalone systems with options to dodge mandatory monthly fees. But unlike Wyze, SimpliSafe and SmartThings offer professional monitoring options and audible alarms. Still, neither comes close to Wyze in price, particularly considering Wyze’s price includes a camera. But Wyze definitely falls short when it comes to smart home compatibility, especially compared to Samsung SmartThings.

Starter Package Price Starter Package Equipment Smart Home Compatibility Monthly Fees Professional Monitoring

$39.98 $229.96 $129.00 1 Wyze Cam 1 bridge 2 contact sensors 1 motion sensor The Foundation: 1 base station 1 keypad 1 contact sensor 1 motion sensor 1 hub 2 contact sensors 1 motion sensor Amazon Alexa Google Home IFTTT Amazon Alexa Apple HomeKit Google Home IFTTT SmartThings Amazon Alexa Ecobee Google Home Honeywell IFTTT Kwikset Ring Schlage SmartThings Zigbee Z-Wave None None None None Optional, $14.99/mo. Optional, $24.99/mo. with ADT View on Amazon Visit SimpliSafe View on Amazon

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Data effective 7/25/2019. Offers and availability subject to change.

FAQs

Is it worth it to buy the Wyze Cam just to be able to use Wyze Sense?

In our opinion, yes. Wyze Cam captures live video with clear night vision, free 14-day rolling cloud storage, and time lapse videos. All for less than $40. You can also add up to a 32GB micro SD card for video storage. Check out our Wyze Cam review for more info.

Does Wyze have smoke or carbon monoxide sensors?

Wyze doesn’t yet offer devices for detecting smoke or carbon monoxide, but the Wyze Cam and Wyze Cam Pan have two-way audio with sound detection features to alert you with a push notification if the camera detects a smoke alarm in your home.

Does adding the bridge affect the sound quality on the Wyze Cam?

While it’s true that the bridge does block part of the Wyze Cam’s speaker, we didn’t notice a change in the volume of the sound coming from the Wyze Cam with the bridge installed.

Can you move sensors after they’ve been placed?

Yes, but you might need to replace the adhesive. Wyze recommends using a product like Command adhesive if you need to reattach sensors to a new surface.

Conclusion

Wyze Sense is an easy, inexpensive option for keeping tabs on what’s happening in your home while you’re away. It won’t give you the full monitoring coverage or alarm capabilities of a true security system, but you’ll know when doors open and close, and with the Wyze Cam you can watch the action as well. In short, it’s discreet and easy to use, it functions well, and the price can’t be beat.

How We Reviewed Wyze Sense

We tested the Wyze Sense Starter kit at home for a few days, connecting the sensors to a Wyze Cam Pan and downloading the Wyze app on an iPhone. We placed two of the sensors within 20 feet of the Wyze Cam and placed the third about 50 feet away in another room to check the range. We changed settings on the app to see how well each performed under different conditions. To find out more about how we test and review products, read our full methodology.

Related Pages on SafeWise

Best Motion Sensor Lights

The Best Smart Home Security

What Is a Smart Home?

Wyze Cam Pan Review

Best Door and Window Sensors

The post Wyze Sense Starter Kit Review appeared first on SafeWise.

Article source here: Wyze Sense Starter Kit Review

[jonasjjackson]

New Year Bathroom Remodel

Rick LaFaver of Wood Work Life gave his mother in law a house warming gift of a lifetime. With a little help from The Home Depot, he completed a gorgeous bathroom remodel in her new home. Find out his tips on how to pull off a DIY bathroom remodel project.

New Year Bathroom Remodel

This holiday season, I felt like doing something really over the top for my mother in law. She has been so helpful this year and just moved into her own place for the first time, so I felt like really hitting one out of the park with a bathroom remodel. The bathroom in her house had some major layout issues, but fortunately no major structural issues (short of being in a house built in 1895 and the complications that creates.)

For this bathroom remodel I wanted to give a super premium look and feel, but I wanted to minimize costs by making the process as simple as I could. I built the whole bathroom around Delta’s UPstile system, which gets you that custom tiled shower feel while still just technically being an alcove shower insert. Even so this is going to a huge undertaking, and I am on a bit of a time crunch, but there is only one way to eat an elephant…one bite at a time.

4 Considerations to Make Prior to Starting a DIY Bathroom Remodel

There are obviously a ton of things to consider before you start a bathroom remodel, but here are the top 4 for me in no particular order.

1. Anticipate potential problems to avoid road blocks

With any home DIY project, you should take the opportunity to address any glaring issues with the layout, functionality, or design of a space. BUT, some of these problems can be colossal undertakings and can derail an otherwise simple project. Before I started this project, I wrote a list of any problems I could think of and researched what each of them would entail.

In this bathroom the challenges I chose to take on were: the layout of the tub/shower, an incorrectly vented tub drain (often the cause of a slow draining tub), and an incorrectly installed tile floor. The stones I chose to leave unturned…the lack of square and plum in any room in the house (no one will ever fix this,) the bowing ceiling/roof (this will need to be addressed when a new roof goes on this house) and replacing the glass louvred door and wood framed window.

2. Be mindful of timeline and budget

You can do anything, if you have the time and/or skill.  It is obviously important to keep every project to a timeline and a budget or things will get out of hand real quick.  Where will you spend your money? Where will you spend your time? In other words, what will you do or even try to figure out how to do, and what will you hire a contractor for?  I am personally pretty comfortable with basic electrical, carpentry, and drywalling but plumbing is not my thing.  Since I wanted to finish this in a month, rather than learning how to fix the plumbing issues left behind from a hack job remodel in a hundred year old house, I hired a plumber.

Looking back at this project and seeing the finish on my walls, I wish I would’ve also hired out the drywalling and taping, those finishing touches can really make a difference.

3. Prepare for permits and inspections

Permits vary a lot from city to city and state to state and I am no expert but your local municipality’s website will probably be able to point you in the right direction.  Typically you have the obvious stuff plumbing and electrical permits, an inspections after demo, another one after electrical and plumbing rough in, and the final inspection after the project is complete.

Please, do your research. Nothing will derail a project like having to rip everything out and do it all over again.

4. Plan your project in manageable steps

Define needs to come before or after what to make for the smoothest process. If you are having a plumber come out, try not cover any of the pipes, or finish drywalling beforehand.  Make sure the tub and sink are on site to get the most out of your plumber’s time. If you are going to paint, (which you should even if you don’t have to, a fresh coat of paint is always so refreshing) try and keep all the finishes out of the space so you can paint as quickly as possible without worrying about masking, drips, and overspray. Figuring out the logistics ahead of time just makes everything so much easier.

Ok enough with mental gymnastics, let’s get to work.

Tear it up!

Demo is always my favorite part of a DIY project, taking a very large hammer to a room you hated is cathartic for some reason. Don’t forget to keep your mess contained because unlike on TV you actually have to clean up the mess after demo day. Make sure you rent a dumpster to haul away all the mess.

A reciprocating saw and a demo hammer can be a huge help during a tear down, I actually used the RIDGID MEGAMax, which is both for my remodel.

Fortunately, the previous installer didn’t properly bed in the subfloor with mortar, so even though I have had to re-grout this bathroom 3 times already, it came up super easily during demo. Everything else was easy enough to cut out or remove.

Rough In

For this project, rough in was a bit more involved than your average bathroom remodel. In a lot of bathroom remodels with an alcove tub (walls on 3 sides, only one long side of the tub accessible often identified as left drain or right drain) you could simply drop the Delta UPstile tub or shower system right in with little modification. In my bathroom, I had to rotate the tub 90 degrees and move the drain which meant I had to frame an entire new shower stall and a new tub rough in.

This is actually my second bathroom remodel this year and my second using Delta hardware. I have been nothing but satisfied with the ease of installation.  Even the lower-priced models of the Delta hardware come with hardware and rough in kits that simplify install and eliminate a lot of the pitfalls of generic “builder grade” faucets.

While the plumber was there, I also set the bathtub into a bed of mortar and hooked up the drain. My plumber didn’t want to appear on camera, so I didn’t get any shots of that.

Installing the Delta UPstile System

My first bathroom remodel this year had a full custom-tiled tub surround. While it doesn’t replace the look of a subway-tiled tub surround, the Delta UPstile system is A LOT more simple and affordable than a custom tiled tub surround.

First, there is no waterproofing to worry about; once you caulk your seams, you’re good. Second, you don’t have to first install cement board so no cement dust or special cutting wheels to worry about. Third, you don’t need to involve yet another trade in your bathroom remodel and that much more time and money to tile the whole surround.

All of these things are true with any tub or shower insert, but with the UPstile system, you still get the look of a subway-tiled custom shower install. You even get a slot to install your own glass or decorative tile insert.

The decorative tile insert is designed to be used with 6” mesh backed tile squares and 1/8th inch grout lines (6 ¼” slot), but you can easily install other tile as well. Since the shower surround is made of pronamel, which doesn’t bond with mortar, you have to use silicone-based kitchen adhesive to attach the tiles for the insert. I used DAP Kwik seal plus kitchen and bath adhesive in clear. This is super easy to do, but do give the manufacturer’s FULL dry time before removing the spacers. Kitchen adhesive remains a lot more flexible than mortar when partially cured, so if you take the spacer out early you can really ruin the look. I cut some 2 and half inch by 8 inch tiles on a wet cut tile saw to fit the slot to continue to the subway tile look.

After installing the tile, you can treat it like usual and grout using whatever color you like. I recommend a bright white grout to match the rest of the tub surround kit.

Tiling the Floor

For the floor, I went with a wood look porcelain floor tile from The Home Depot’s Home Decorator collection. Wood look tile has come a long way; it used to be 7 or 8 prints duplicated ad nauseum, but the new stuff is great, I didn’t see a single repeat in 6 boxes. Pro Tip: If you ever want to see some cool and unique products for your next project, go to The Home Depot’s website and search: “Home Decorators Collection.”

The problem the previous installer had left me behind was a blessing and a curse. I had re-grouted this floor three times because he didn’t put a bed of mortar under the cement board subfloor. At least it was easy to tear up the old tile floor though. After installing the new cement board subfloor, I installed the floor.

When cutting porcelain tile like this to get clean scores, use and angle grinder and a continuous rim diamond blade, I used a Ridgid brushless grinder and a Ridgid continuous diamond blade. Another pro tip I ran across when designing the bathroom: With wood look tile, pick a grout that is one tone darker than the darkest tone in the tile in my case this led me to charcoal grout.

Installing the Toilet and Sink

Installing a toilet is super easy and it is usually the first thing I do when I move into a new house. I am not incredibly comfortable sitting on someone else’s throne. It is as simple as press fitting the wax ring, dropping it on and tightening a few bolts. It is important to level the toilet with a few composite shims and tighten down the toilet bolts evenly so you don’t crack the porcelain. In my case, I also had to use an adapter for the cast iron waste stack. but otherwise no big deal.

For the sink and vanity, I chose another piece from the The Home Depot Home Decorator’s Collection. I wanted a vanity that matched the wood look flooring and added a bunch of storage, so I went with a 3 door vanity with a weather oak finish to match the floor.

I used Delta’s Venetian bronze faucet hardware kit to finish it off.  Again, I love the equipment this kit came with. Rather than running your own braided hoses from the water supply, this kit comes with its own integrated pex fittings. There’s something about a really nice sink faucet in a kitchen or a bathroom that just really puts the cherry on top of a remodel.

I approach kitchen and bathroom remodels using luxury car design philosophy, the contact surfaces are the most important elements to give a space a luxurious look and feel. Everything from the door knob, to the faucet handle, to the toilet flusher should be quality materials and interesting textures, these little details really bring a spaces feel together.

Trim Paint and DONE

FINALLY, I mean this bathroom went quick and it was pretty easy, but just the sum of all of it in one month was just…a lot. One of the most enjoyable parts of any project is putting on the trim, those last little touch ups of paint and putting on the finishing touches. With this one, I was able to really decorate it to get all the oohs and aahs from my mother in law.

After a month of making all manners of dust and mess in her house, I was finally able to show my mother in law Ruth the bathroom remodel. I think the look on her face said it all, but she loved it. It is such a nice space to just soak in a bath and go through your morning routine for work. I have always said a bathroom is like a mattress, you are going to use it everyday, so you might as well make it as nice as you can.

By properly framing the wall for the new alcove, adding insulation and getting rid of a poorly installed glass block window, the bathroom is a lot more comfortable now as well. I hope it serves her well, Merry Christmas, Nana – from me and family!

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