#i also have two other younger siblings that picked up drawing in the last 2-3 years which is really cool !!!!!!!

[keeps-ache]

OH (one of) my siblings is learning to draw now !! this is very cool and swag, the only thing that isn't is that he is trying to learn from me fhsvh

[heich0e]

pleaseee can we get some nai college head cannons!

this is not headcanons my apologies

part of the trigun college!au (nai/f!reader)

You hear the jingle of keys against the marble countertop down the hallway. The thump of a backpack hitting the floor. The swish of plastic bags. The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to you.

“Hey, I picked up takeout from—“

Nai turns the corner into Vash’s bedroom, one hand curling around the doorframe as his tousled, white-blonde hair comes into view.

“Oh.”

You watch every trace of softness in his face harden. Harsh lines and ice overtaking the momentary glimpse of warmth you’d caught in his expression.

“Hi!” You wave from your place in Vash’s bed. You have a cozy blanket wrapped around you and your laptop resting in the cradle of your crossed legs. Your essay sits neglected on the screen, forgotten now even in spite of the looming deadline, your eyes glued instead to the boy hovering in his brother’s doorway.

“Where’s Vash?” 

Nai has a tone that makes people flinch. You’ve seen it happen countless times with your very eyes—on campus, at the convenience store around the corner from he and Vash’s apartment, even at the rare party he frequents. But no matter how terse his words might be, you never do.

“He accidentally stole Nicholas’ laptop charger when we were on campus earlier, he just ran over to bring it back before Nico’s night class.”

At the mere mention of the brunette, Knives’ expression turns even more severe; his upper lip curls in visible disgust.

“He’ll be right back,” you add, smiling softly.

Why are you smiling?

Nai spins on his heel to slink away, but you stop him.

“Did you say you got takeout?”

“I got my brother and I dinner,” he makes sure to emphasize who the meal was meant for, though he doesn’t spare you a glance over his shoulder.

You laugh into your fist as he slinks away back towards the kitchen, and you hear him clunking around huffily as you return your attention to your assignment.

You reach for your cellphone after rewording a sentence that really doesn’t matter instead of adding another one that does, pulling up your text conversation with the boy whose bed you’re sitting in.

(6:15pm) Nai’s home! Hurry back or he’ll kick me out again plssss

As soon as you hit send, you hear a suspicious jingling from somewhere in the room. It’s too conveniently timed to be a coincidence. You slip your laptop off your lap, pushing it to the side, and lean your body over the edge of the bed to peer down at where you’d heard the sound coming from. Lo and behold, Vash’s cellphone is resting on the ground next to his bedside table. It had probably fallen off the bed while the two of you had been toiling away at your respective school work, just before he made a mad dash to campus when he realized he’d accidentally come home with two laptop chargers instead of one—and gotten a strongly worded text message from the other charger’s owner (who’d obviously just come to the same conclusion.)

You sigh, plucking Vash’s phone up from the ground. He’s constantly losing the thing, or cracking the screen, which is a little ridiculous considering the brightly-coloured case he has it wrapped in—cute little cartoon characters are printed onto the red plastic, and he’s added various stickers (and scratches) to accompany them. You’re laughing a little at the design when the phone jingles again.

6:16PM - New Message (1) Nai: Hi. That girl is here again

6:16PM - New Message (2) Nai: She’s in your bedroom

6:16PM - New Message (3) Nai: When are you coming back? Where are you? If you (…)

You snort to yourself as message after message pops up on the screen, the latter part of the last one lost to the cut of the notification preview. You know Vash’s passcode, but you also know it’s not your place to see what his brother is texting him—not that the younger sibling would care.

But you suspect someone else might.

You pad out to the kitchen, Vash’s phone clutched in your hand.

Nai is standing in the kitchen in front of a mountain of takeout containers. They’re from a fancy restaurant uptown you know he likes, because Vash had mentioned it on a few occasions. Nai tends to have more… particular tastes than his little brother, who you’re fairly certain would be happy to eat out of a convenience store for the rest of his natural life.

The elder twin hears you come in and glowers at you at you hover in front of the island in the open concept kitchen, the expanse of marble separating you.

“He forgot his phone,” you say, holding up the device in front of you demonstratively. 

Nai’s brow creases, his lips tugging down at the corners in an even deeper frown than before. You watch as he lifts his hand to rub at his temple in frustration.

Knives hates it when Vash doesn’t have his phone. Or forgets to charge it. Or loses it. Or cracks the screen. Or does anything that impedes him from getting in touch with him.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you assure the elder of the two brothers, setting the phone down on the countertop. “He left a while ago and he was coming right home.”

The phone is snatched up from the counter almost as soon as your hand has pulled away from it, and Nai shoves it into the pocket of his joggers. You watch as he reaches for his keys next.

“Are you going to find him?” you ask, and Nai ignores you, tugging his jacket on.

“If you leave now, you’ll probably just end up missing each other. He’s probably already in the elevator!” you call to the blonde’s retreating form as he stalks towards the front door angrily.

“It’s not even dark out, and campus is only 10 minutes away.”

He stuffs his feet harshly into his sneakers, though he’s careful not to crease the backs.

You glance around furtively, looking for another excuse to keep him from needlessly going chasing after Vash.

“Hey, if you go, do you mind if I have some of this?”

Nai whips around just in time to see you leaning over the counter to slip a finger under the edge of one of the takeout container lids to peek inside. He crosses the apartment towards you in three long strides, leaning over and snatching the box out from under your hand with a sneer.

“Was that steak?” you ask, eyes wide and sparkling, your hands clasped in front of your heart.

“None of your business,” he snaps.

It is steak. Wagyu. Cooked to a perfect medium rare.

Just the way he likes it.

He opens his mouth to snap at you again, probably about touching things that don’t belong to you, or getting the hell out of his apartment, when the front door swings open.

“Honey I’m hoooooooo—”

Vash spots Knives sneering down at you on the other side of the apartment, craning over where you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, faltering to a stop. The fist-full of heavy convenience store bags he has clutched in his hands rustle as the swing in his grip.

“Oh, hi Nai! You’re home early!” Vash smiles when he sees his brother, his eyes crinkling at the corners behind the round lenses of his glasses. He kicks his tattered boots off clumsily in the doorway before approaching you both. “I got us dinner! There’s lots, so we can all share!”

You see a twitch of irritation in his older brother’s jaw. Nai takes a step back from you.

“You left the house without your cellphone again.”

Vash’s eyes widen in the wake of his brother’s words. He uses his free hand to pat along his pockets, and then winces sheepishly when he realizes his mistake.  “Sorry, sorry! Had to run to campus, and I must have left it—”

Nai reaches into his pocket and retrieves the device, holding it out to his little brother.

“What’s the point of a mobile phone if it stays in one place?” Nai mutters sullenly.

Vash takes it appreciatively, tucking it into his own pocket. Then he spots the containers on the counter.

“Woah, what’s all this?” he asks excitedly, craning up onto his tiptoes to peek around his brother’s shoulder at the food on the counter behind him. “Did you pick up food too?”

“My meeting with the department chair was shorter than I expected, so I thought it would be nice to eat together. I didn’t realize we’d have company.” Nai’s gaze flickers resentfully to you from the corner of his eye.

“Well, there’s so much food here now, it’s a good thing there’s three of us!” Vash chirps happily, turning to you. “You’ll stay, right?”

Your friend’s face is alight with expectation.

Behind him, Nai is scowling.

You smile brightly.

“Of course!”

[yutahoes]

Sakura

(Part Two)

One - Two

genre : Chaptered, Fluff

pairing : childhood friends: soccer player! Nakamoto Yuta x single mom! Reader (Y/N)

word count : 2.3k words

You’ll always be his Sakura.

taglist :  @ailoveyuta @loona-4-eva @aiforyuu @2-3-t-i @cosmiclatte28 @url-lindo-sexy @nuoyipeach @aaasteroidsky  @readers-posts @delightfultacobread @bby-kji9 @a-bts-world​ @mel-yjh​ @yeolsechanhun​ @yutazen01 ​

It was the summer before his third grade when his dad announced that they will be moving to Seoul because of a business opportunity. The then eight-year-old Yuta hated that he had to leave his friends just because he can't stay in Japan. He hated that he had to transfer schools and learn a new language. Why do they have to move to another country? Why not move to another city instead? 

When the teacher introduced him to the class of third graders, he just glared at his Korean classmates who were looking at him in wonder. He doesn't want to be friends with them. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to learn a new language. He's Japanese, why would he speak Korean? The teacher told him - or at least that was what he understood - to sit on a vacant chair at the back of the class. His classmates were staring at him. He's the new guy, it's normal. But he hated the attention. 

It was lunch when he decided to eat on the school's rooftop. He wasn't surprised that it was locked but a girl was drawing on the door of the rooftop. Isn't she in his class? The girl seated in front of him? A crayon drawing of stick figures made him curious, what is that? 

A certain symbol caught his attention, a straight line with a beak-like image and wings at the end held by a stickman he believed is a girl because of the triangular picture below her body. "Sakura?" He asked and the girl jolted in surprise, quickly hiding what she was doing. "Cardcaptor Sakura?" 

The girl was wide-eyed, looked at her drawing then at him. He noticed how her eyes twinkle at that even if the area isn't well-lit. Or is it because she just cried? "You're that Japanese guy." She said in Korean and he only caught the words 'Japanese' and 'guy' so she's probably referring to him. "Do you know Cardcaptor Sakura?" He only nodded. It is a hit in Japan, everyone knows Sakura. "I like Cardcaptor Sakura!" She exclaimed with a bright smile. 

That was the first time he saw that girl who loves Sakura. The first classmate who talked to him as if they spoke the same language. He remembered handing her a comic of her favorite cartoons the next day and she introduced herself as Y/N, even asking him along the lines of 'Can you teach me Japanese?' and 'Do you want to be friends with me?' 

His initial plan of not knowing Korean or not talking to people backfired. He wanted to have a real conversation with this Sakura girl. His first Korean friend. 

Yuta would remember teaching her hiragana every lunchtime, on their own place by the door of the rooftop and she would teach him hangul in exchange. Before class, she would tell him stories about what happened to Sakura from the episode yesterday as if he didn't watch the same show. After class, they would spend some time in the playground waiting for her mom to pick her up. 

She was also the person who encouraged him to try out for the soccer team. Unlike in Japan, soccer isn't a required PE in Korea so his classmates were amazed that he knew how to play soccer, even defeating some older kids. "Yuta, sugoi!" She exclaimed that made him smile, a real genuine smile he never showed to everyone. "You're handsome when you smile. You should smile more often." It was her who made him smile more. Just because he wanted her to call him handsome once again. 

In fourth grade, the two were so close that she spent time in their home and him on hers. Sometimes she would even sleep at their place when her mom has to stay all night in the hospital. He found out that she doesn't have a dad, he left them when she's just a baby and that she would always cry in her sleep looking for her dad. Kids weren't very welcoming with the idea of a broken family either and he would often see her crying on the stairs to the rooftop. 

And now, she's the one who has children. A mom. He never imagined that he will see her as a mom in the future. He wondered if she still cries for her dad. He wonders if she still knew how to speak or write Japanese. He wonders if she could call him 'handsome' again. 

Yuta promised that he wouldn't stay that long in Korea, he wanted to leave as soon as the wedding was over and he had every reason why. But Mark Lee, his secretary, thinks that he needs to stay for a couple more days and think of it as a vacation before the big soccer leagues happen. 

"Your alma mater is inviting you to teach the soccer club," Mark noted as he stared at the email by the administration of his former elementary school. The place where he honed his soccer playing skills. 

The place where he met her. 

The younger guy was surprised when the soccer player agreed to the said invitation. Even forcing him to do it today before he changes his mind. Luckily, he doesn't have any schedules that day.

The school changed a lot. Well, it's been years since he last visited the place. A lot of buildings surrounded the soccer field and he watched how elementary kids played. They look so small or is it because he's used to watching the adults play? The principal greeted him and introduced him to the soccer coach who looked so cocky. But instead of heading to the soccer field, he asked the principal if he could look upstairs. 

His feet dragged him to the staircase to the rooftop. Their meeting place. The door changed color, erasing her drawing that they maintained for years. From the stick figures to an actual 2D drawing of Sakura and Syaoran. 

He wished he could just erase his memory of her as well. The same way as the drawings are erased. 

It was free period when he went down to the classrooms and saw little kids in the school's hallway. Are they this small? "It's because you don't have a dad." He heard a child say and saw that it's a huge kid, probably a third-grader, in his jersey. "The soccer team doesn't accept kids who don't have dads." Well, elementary didn't change. 

When his gaze caught the smaller boy he's talking to, a sudden feeling of recognition hit him. Jae. Y/N's son. "My dad lives abroad." He nodded, he's correct about that. 

"Dads should watch your soccer games." The older kid claimed, making Yuta shake his head. Are children’s behavior like this? Well, he really should refrain from making one of his own. "Accept it, Jae. You can never be good for the soccer team." 

"Yah!" Someone shouted from the side. "Stop bullying my brother." Yuta smiled as he watched the mini version of the girl occupying his mind shout at the bigger kids who were hurting her brother. She's totally different from her. "Did your dad teach you that?" 

The bigger kid only glared when the soccer coach called for him, and he quickly called him 'daddy'. So that is where his confidence came from. His gaze returned to the siblings, Jae was holding his sister's arm saying sorry that she had to get angry. Yuta smiled, that's their mom's attitude. Always apologetic. How can these two be a spitting image of her? Truly, they're her children. 

"Yuta Nakamoto," Jae called before he could flee the place. He greeted the young boy then smiled at the girl who was looking at him in curiosity. "I told you he's eomma's friend, noona. He knows my name." Yuta chuckled at that. He just met his youngest fanboy. 

The younger girl pulled her brother behind her that surprised Yuta. "Eomma said not to talk to strangers." The older smirked. She's really different from her mom. 

"Should we call your mom? Can you give me her number?" The girl shook her head and Yuta nodded, already texting Taeyong. He responded with her number and Yuta quickly called the said phone number, "Hi Y/N. It's Yuta." Both kids were staring at him, "I'm here in Jae's school. Can I bring them to the mall?" 

"Ahjusshi, can I see if it's my mom?" The girl asked and Yuta handed his phone to her. "Eomma?" The girl stared at him in wonder as she heard her mom's voice. "Then can we go with this ahjusshi?" She glared at him for a moment then nodded as if she’s talking to her mom. “She wants to talk to you.” 

“Yuta, you don’t have to do this if you’re busy.” But he wanted to. He wanted to spend time with them and learn about her as a mom. “Just message me where you are. I’ll pick them up.” He agreed. If only he could spend time with her as well. 

It was Jae who’s most excited when they reached the mall. The older girl stayed a few feet away from the two of them. Maybe she’s not interested. But really, she’s a tough nut to crack. He discovered that Jae wanted to play soccer but his mom doesn’t want him to, saying that he’s too young to play. So Yuta brought him to a shop where they sell sports shoes. “I’ll go talk to your mom. But for now, wear these soccer shoes,” he claimed while tying the younger boy’s shoelaces that made him beam. Jae hugged Yuta, thanking him for the shoes. “You’re welcome, bud.” 

Yuta realized that he didn’t know the older girl’s name. What was it? Did Y/N mention her name? To be safe, he just asked Jae about it. “Cherry,” he called then walked to where she was, staring at the skating shoes. “Do you want one?” She shook her head mumbling that their mom would get mad. “Besides, it’s not snowing.” He nodded. 

“We can go ice skating...” 

“You’re not my dad.” That made Yuta stop. Of course, he’s not. “Stop acting that you care about me or Jae. You’re just like the other guys.” Other guys? “You’ll leave me and Jae. You’ll leave eomma.” She’s a difficult nut to crack. 

Yet she’s so different when she’s next to her brother. The cold eyes were changed into warmness when her brother asked if they could play in the ball pit. She looked like a child, smiling at the younger as they bounced at the trampoline. She looks exactly like her. How can two children, both from the same parents, have so different personalities? 

He was just watching them, texting Y/N where he is, checking from time to time the two kids playing with the others in the ball pit area. "Hey," Y/N called, sitting beside Yuta on the mall bench. She smiled seeing the two playing. "Did they tire you?" 

Yuta laughed. "It's fine. They're cool." There was silence, a comfortable silence. It's awkward to see her now. A lot of things changed. "Jae has the same personality as you, that's cute." She giggled. "Cherry looks like you." 

Y/N nodded. "I'm glad she talks to you." 

"It was hard, honestly." He confessed and again, she giggled. That sound. He missed her laugh. "I think she wants to go figure skating." That surprised Y/N. "And Jae wants to play soccer."

"He's too young. He'll get hurt with the bigger kids." Yuta was about to revolt at that. "I remembered when you played with the bigger kids back in eighth grade." That was one of his worst plays ever. Until now, he can feel how hurt he is. 

She confessed that she doesn't know anything about sports that's why she's a little worried about sending her kids to the sports clinic that made him smile. She's such a mom. "I'll train Jae," Yuta announced that made her look at him. "I have to stay in Spain for two months for the league then I'll come back and teach Jae soccer." He explained. "I'll help Cherry too." 

"Yuta, you don't have to." 

"I want to." He held her hand. "Please." 

"Why are you holding hands?" Cherry asked that made Yuta let go of his hold on her. 

The older just gave her daughter a glare that made Yuta laugh. They look alike, the resemblance is too uncanny if you see them now yet they’re so different. “Eomma!” Jae called, reaching out to hug his mom. “I had fun today.” And she smiled at him. “Yuta samchon is so cool.” 

“He bought you shoes?” She asked, checking the new kicks on her son’s feet. Jae claimed that he also bought Cherry one that made the older girl glare at Yuta. “Did you say thank you?” Both nodded. 

Yuta smiled at them. They do look like a happy family. “I’ll get going. I’ll see you when I get back from Spain.” Y/N nodded. Yuta asked for a hug and Jae was the only one who’s ecstatic to hug him. Cherry rolled her eyes that made the older guy laugh. As expected. “Come on, Y/N, a hug.” He said, hands extended for the older girl. 

The girl giggled before giving him a tight hug. His hand rested on her back then the other on the back of her head, caressing her hair. “You’re doing a great job being a mom, Sakura.” 

She laughed before muttering the words, “I’m proud of you, Syaoran.” 

Watching the three of them head to a different way opposite him, he wished he would have another chance to bond with them. He would love to be with them. Maybe having children isn’t too bad. 

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Three

[violetwolfraven]

Willie Headcanons

So I actually came up with this like a month ago and forgot to post it. Anyway enjoy my headcanons about our favorite sk8er boi. Be ready for feels.

Tw: death, car accident mention, emotional manipulation.

...

In my mind, Willie had a good relationship with his parents. They were supportive and everything. They both loved Willie very much.

And Willie has youngest child energy so I’m saying he has a sister who’s 2 years older and a brother who’s 5 years older. Their names are Delilah and Austin.

AND ALL THREE OF THEM ARE ADRENALINE JUNKIES.

Seriously imagine the worst possible combination of head empty only skateboarding and you’ve got Willie, Delilah, and Austin.

Austin started skating when he was 7 and got Delilah hooked on it a year later.

Their parents kinda didn’t like the idea of it but those two had already started teaching Willie basic stuff by the time he was 3.

But... the other two had other interests. Delilah was into art (painting) and Austin played piano (like, really well).

For Willie, skateboarding was his thing. And it always was.

He had fun with it when his big brother would put his hands on his and teach him to play a bit, or his sister would give him some paint and a spare canvas and they’d doodle together, but it wasn’t like skating.

As far as I’ve seen (which admittedly isn’t that far) it’s widely accepted that Willie has ADHD so I’m leaning into that here.

And Willie inherited his brain from his dad, who had a bad experience with meds and so wouldn’t let any of his kids go through it.

So Willie grew up unmedicated but probably better off for the time period. His dad taught him coping mechanisms. Him and Austin. Delilah didn’t inherit it but she was taught to empathize with her brothers and recognize when they needed her help with something.

She’s a badass who can and does beat up anybody who’s mean to her brothers for missing social cues.

But anyway while Austin had piano (and skating as a side thing) Willie got even more hooked on skateboarding than either of his siblings because his brain latched onto it from a young age and couldn’t let go.

We all have our outlets. The chaos in our brains has to go somewhere. For Willie it goes into skating.

When he’s young he and his siblings will skateboard to school and then after school they’ll skate all around Hollywood for hours.

They do their homework in random McDonalds and Denny’s and tbh become local cryptid customers. Like they’re just these 3 super friendly skater siblings who tip really well and visit every fast food place within a 20 mile radius of their house with varying frequency.

They also find e v e r y skatepark, empty pool, and vacant lot in that 20 mile radius that they can possibly find.

Their parents have to bail them out of jail for trespassing and the occasional vandalism every so often.

Sometimes one of them has stuff to do and it’s just two of them out skating but if two of them are busy the other one never goes out alone cause it’s dangerous. We’ll get back to that later.

So anyway when they’re 17, 14, and 12, Delilah comes out as a lesbian.

And the family is supportive of course because they’re a good family.

But her coming out gets Willie thinking. About how some of his friends have crushes on girls but he just... doesn’t see the appeal.

Like he has a couple friends who are girls and they’re great and he likes hanging out with them at recess but he doesn’t get the hype. They’re just more friends. So he doesn’t really see what his big sister is so interested in either.

In my mind Willie actually is from around the same time as the boys (dying in like 1999) so one day while nobody else in their house is home he and Delilah are watching Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and Willie’s again wondering why people think Leia is so hot cause she’s cool and all but Luke is right there and he looks really good and—

Willie: I think I might be gay.

Delilah: Yeah I know.

They talk about it and Willie does decide to tell the rest of the family but he’s a bit wary about anyone else because he saw how some of Delilah’s friends turned on her after she came out. He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

He does end up telling a few of his friends but he doesn’t quite not care what people think of him the way his big sister does.

Austin is the only straight one and he’s like. So awkward about it but in a sweet way.

Austin: So, Britney Spears is hot, right?

Delilah: Stop.

And

Austin: So I saw you hanging around Chris the other day are you two..?

Willie: ...no...???

Austin: Cool, yeah I didn’t think so. Just had to make sure. Not that I’m doubting your ability to get boys but I’d have to shovel talk him if you were.

Willie: If I ever do get a boyfriend, please don’t.

He tries. He’s a himbo if that wasn’t clear. Where did you think Willie learned it?

So anyway fast forward a couple years and they’re 22, 19, and 17. Austin and Delilah are both in college and Willie’s the last one left at home and things between their parents start getting... tense.

Like they don’t fight exactly but they’ve fallen out of love and things are awkward.

Even Austin and Delilah can tell and they’re only home on breaks and some weekends but for Willie it’s right there and he’s watching it happen. He has no option but to see.

They used to have a rule that they don’t go skating alone because it’s dangerous but Willie just can’t make himself stay home so he goes out skateboarding.

At first it’s never too far from home or anywhere where there’s too much traffic but as things get increasingly awkward at home he goes out farther and farther, chasing the adrenaline high he used to get from going anywhere and everywhere every day after school with his siblings.

Then his parents officially tell him they’re getting divorced and

And it’s not like he couldn’t see it coming, but... it still hurts.

And neither of his siblings are coming home any time soon so

So he goes out skating on his own, way too far from home. He keeps going until he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

He isn’t really paying attention the way he should but that’s not why he runs into trouble.

The driver of that red pickup is drunk and he rounds the corner out of nowhere.

If Delilah or Austin had been there they could have yelled for Willie to jump out of the way, or maybe up on the hood so the impact wouldn’t be as bad, but he’s alone.

So he gets hit, and the car was going fast enough that he’s dead before he even hits the pavement.

After that there’s a lot of confusion but once Willie figures out he’s a ghost... it’s too painful to think about going home, so he just... doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to see his family mourning him, so he just distracts himself, skating everywhere he couldn’t before without getting busted.

Plus some old routes where he used to go with Delilah and Austin, just for something that’s familiar but not too familiar.

He’s on one of those more familiar routes a few weeks after his death when he’s skating down Sunset Boulevard one night, singing along to Toxic by Britney Spears blasting from a nearby club and a man dressed in a purple suit comments on how he’s got a good voice.

Honestly Willie is just so relieved to have someone to talk to that he forgets about stranger danger completely.

Plus he recognizes an Elder Gay in Caleb and assumes he can trust him because the Elder Gays he met at pride that one time he went with Delilah were so nice and understanding of how reassuring it was to see queer people of older generations who got a happy ending.

Caleb barely even has to try. He just lets this 17-year-old obviously-queer ghost rant at him for a few minutes, asks a few questions and finds out that he also can play piano, and convinces him to come to the Hollywood Ghost Club the next night.

From there it’s not like Willie has anyone to save him so of course he has to join the club.

At first he’s completely alone because the other performers scare him almost as much as Caleb does.

Then slowly, he sees how they give him space because they know he’s scared of them. How they turn a blind eye when he leaves the club without permission. How they don’t critique his mistakes with the same sarcasm they show each other.

Willie starts to realize that the other performers are doing their best to look out for him, and he starts being less afraid.

They’re all too concerned with their own survival to really protect him but if they draw some attention to themselves occasionally so Caleb doesn’t notice Willie being slow to pick up some tricky choreography, that’s not too risky.

The others are all like 21 at the youngest and they really don’t appreciate Caleb tricking a literal child into working for him no matter how talented said child is. (Cause Willie is good at singing and piano. It’s just not his passion.)

The twins are 22 but they died in 1925 and before that they were performing to support a younger brother who they never got to say goodbye to so maybe they see Willie as a kind of second chance.

Lyssa (what I decided to name drummer woman because I don’t know her real name if she has one) is 25 and she died in 1984. She had a daughter who’d be about Willie’s age now and... who knows? Maybe they were friends.

Fuego is 24 and from 1951 and he had a childhood best friend who enlisted and died in WWII that he thought he might get to see when he died but that boy moved on and so... well, Willie’s just a little younger than his friend was the last time he saw him.

In short Willie becomes everyone’s baby brother and they do what they can to look out for him even if they’re just as scared of Caleb as he is.

And the better adjusted Willie gets to (after)life at the HGC and the better they get to know him, the guiltier the others start to feel about him being stuck there.

Eventually a combination of guilt and worked-up courage leads Fuego tells him about the whole unfinished business thing, in hopes maybe he can figure his out and get away from Caleb.

It doesn’t take Willie long to think of his family, how hopeless he felt about the divorce, how worried he was it would change everything and then how scared he was to see his family in pain because of his death.

He realizes his unfinished business is probably seeing them. Letting himself say goodbye.

He almost gets away with it.

Caleb catches up and stops him in the driveway of his house and poofs them back to the HGC.

He convinces (gaslights) Willie into believing that saying goodbye was never his unfinished business and even if it was it’s not like it would matter because Caleb wouldn’t let him do it.

The next morning he ships the HGC out to Tokyo. They stay on the move for a long time and when they are in town, Willie is basically locked in his room.

The next time he’s allowed out in Hollywood, his parents don’t live in their old house anymore and he has no way to find them.

As a coping mechanism, he just starts making the best of a bad situation. Becoming better friends with the other ghosts. Helping soften the blow whenever someone new comes along.

None of that means he stops checking the faces of passing skaters or keeping eyes on restaurants his folks used to like, but it does mean he more or less gives up hope.

That’s what he’s doing when he bumps into Alex.

Look, Willie loves his friends at the HGC. He really does. But there’s a big difference between 17 and 20-something. Like the others will drink alcohol some nights and technically Willie was born over 21 years ago but he still feels weird enough about it that he doesn’t drink.

He hasn’t talked to anyone his age in a long time so Alex is a breath of fresh air.

Also he’s like. Really cute. And sweet. And funny. And shit, Willie’s fallen for him before he even has time to think about it.

He keeps thinking about how Alex doesn’t seem like he’d be physically capable of hurting someone on purpose so Austin would approve and every once in a while there’s that sarcasm that pops out which means he’d get along great with Delilah.

In general Alex is the kind of guy he would’ve loved to take home to meet the family. Them not included, he’s kind of... everything Willie’s missed about Hollywood in the form of one person.

Then they hang out more and Alex is still everything he’s missed but he’s also so much more than that and...

It almost feels like a part of Alex is still alive. And for the first time in years, a part of Willie feels alive, too.

They’ve known each other for like a week tops and Willie is already in love.

Not that he’s admitting that to anyone, because he’s learned the hard way that anyone you care about can be used against you.

Still... when Alex asks for help getting revenge on Bobby, he can’t bring himself to say no because he needs to keep Alex in his (after)life and the only way he knows how to do that (or to make people be nice to him in general) is to be as useful as possible.

That turns out to be a big mistake, because Caleb sees right through him in an instant, targets Alex to confirm it, then immediately starts the process to trick the boys into committing to eternity at the HGC.

Willie feels like an idiot for thinking he could actually get away with it. Doing something good for someone he cares about.

He hadn’t thought Caleb would be interested in them because he’d never actually heard them play. The assumption was that he’d make them do some small favor and then let them talk to their bandmate for 5 minutes. A clean deal where they never have to commit to anything. Willie forgot to take magic into account.

He almost manages to convince himself it was all a bad dream, but when he seeks out Alex and his friends to check on them, he can almost feel the jolts himself, and seeing Alexthem in pain feels terrible.

Willie knows that theoretically they could figure out their unfinished business and cross over, but that all depends on finding it and doing it fast enough and if they failed...

People you care about can be used against you. And Willie does not want to be used against Alex again. He doesn’t want to see Alex used against him.

So he keeps his distance, in hopes Caleb will think he lost interest. He’s pretty sure once the boys find out about the stamp they’ll hate him, anyway.

And plus, as he’s been taught by his friends at the HGC, you have to look out for yourself because no one else will do it for you. Maybe you hurt somebody by not standing up for them, but you can apologize later and hope they forgive you. You can’t apologize if you’re gone, and it’s not like it would make a difference anyway because Caleb is too powerful for anyone to beat.

The thought of how spending eternity with Alex might not be so bad even if it has to be at the HGC does come up, but ironically that’s what makes Willie decide to screw his courage to the sticking point and tell them.

Because he has seen what decades at the club has done to his friends.

They’re all great performers, and they perform happiness well even to each other, but Willie knows them enough to know how tired they all are. How they have been doing the same thing over and over again for decades and they are sick of it.

They’re young, talented tragedies lost to drug overdoses, or AIDS, or accidents, or suicide, and they should’ve gotten to rest after everything they went through in their lives. Instead, they got a curse disguised as a blessing. They got to stay on a stage, got to keep performing and soaking up applause, never got to stop.

Willie has been there a shorter time than most of them and he feels it. The exhaustion, because ghosts are supposed to haunt for a few years then figure out their unfinished business and move on. They’re not meant to be trapped for decades, used as party tricks.

A part of Alex still feels alive and being trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club for years on end would kill that part of him.

Willie can’t let that happen, so as hard as it is...

He tells the boys what’s wrong with them. And by that hurt, betrayed look in Alex’s eyes, he’s honestly expecting him to never forgive him.

But then Alex does. And that almost hurts worse because whether he figures out his unfinished business or not, Willie doubts he’s ever going to see him again.

He honest to God almost cries when Alex hugs him because... shit, he hasn’t gotten a hug since he was breathing.

He goes back to the HGC and tries to go about his day, and keeps replaying how good it felt to have Alex’s arms around him, hoping that memory will get him through the next few decades on his own.

The ghosts at the club do actually gossip a fair amount and by this point all of them know about the 3 dead members of Sunset Curve.

So when Willie admits to Helen (what I’m calling one of the twins) that Alex hugging him was the first time he’d gotten a hug since he died, she hugs him tight for a good 20 seconds, telling him she’s sorry he has to lose him, and if Willie closes his eyes he can almost pretend it’s Delilah.

The next thing he knows, he’s locked in a closet.

Caleb comes to talk to (intimidate) him a few hours later, saying he knows what Willie did.

He’s magically locked in his room alone for a couple weeks after that and it’s essentially psychological torture.

Helen, Anna (what I decided to call the other twin), Dante, Fuego, Lyssa, and everyone else tell him not to test Caleb for the next couple years, but Willie has a heart full of love and a head full of fuck it, so he doesn’t listen.

He gives it exactly one day of being/acting scared and obedient, then goes out without permission again, fully intending to scream in a museum alone to let out all his feelings.

Remember: Willie didn’t see the Orpheum performance. He doesn’t know the boys didn’t cross over but by Caleb’s mood he has a feeling the outcome of that scenario was not in the magician’s favor.

He gets there and it’s literally this comic by the very talented @williessweatycherrysocks

He can’t stay long but he and Alex scream in each other’s faces, talk a bit, maybe sing a duet.

After that, they sneak to see each other when they can but don’t get to see much of each other for months.

It’s hard on both of them but they don’t give up on their relationship.

Through long and complicated events which I will outline later, Willie eventually gets free of the HGC, hugs his friends goodbye already making plans to take down Caleb for good to free them, too, and promptly declines an offer to stay in the Molinas’ garage.

As much as he wants to be close to Alex he’s done being confined to one place.

He still comes and visits like every day tho.

He knows a lot more about ghosting than the other boys do so he and Carlos get along amazingly like:

Carlos: So do you know who Jack the Ripper was?

Willie: No? How old do you think I am?

Carlos: I dunno but I thought it might be Caleb cause that would explain how he never got caught.

Willie, taking notes in his Things To Potentially Use To Take Caleb Down notebook: You’re a tiny genius.

No one was expecting it but everyone is in awe of how well he and Carrie get along. Between the two of them they know so much celebrity gossip. (and it’s definitely a good thing he’s on good terms with her cause she and Alex are close)

On the angsty side, Willie also bonds with Nick over how they both know how it feels to be manipulated and used by Caleb.

Also it takes a long time before he’s able to trust him, but he does get adopted into the Molina clan by Ray.

Ray reminds him a lot of his own dad, once Willie’s able to see that he’s nothing like Caleb.

Ray’s honestly just 100% happy to Dad™️ anyone who needs a dad so it works out great once Julie and the boys figure out how to make Willie visible.

But anyway back to important stuff.

Now that they don’t have to hide for any reason, Willie and Alex can both breathe a little easier. Or... they both feel better. Ghosts don’t really breathe.

Willie can finally let himself get used to feeling alive again.

The whole ghost gang goes (invisibly) to the Los Feliz Homecoming dance and maybe it should make him feel a little on-edge with the kind of club-like environment but...

He’s got Alex there, and they’re dancing to some corny pop love song from the 90s that Flynn probably put on because she knew the ghost boys would be there so how could he feel anything but safe?

For a minute it almost feels like actually being alive and there’s yellow and pink and blue lights coming from everywhere reflecting in Alex’s eyes and Willie is suddenly very aware of the fact that though they’ve been together for a long time now, they haven’t had their first kiss.

Then the Cha Cha Slide starts up and the atmosphere switches and Willie totally forgets about the whole romantic tension thing because it’s the Cha Cha Slide everybody has to dance along.

Dirty Candi performs towards the end of the night and the ghost boys cheer the loudest despite how Julie’s laughing at them. They don’t care that Carrie can’t even hear them, they’re being supportive!!!

Everybody screams even louder when Flynn runs up on stage and kisses Carrie and Willie feels a big burst of affection at how Alex shouts ABOUT TIME!

Then he gives Willie a quick hug and leaves cause he and the rest of Julie and the Phantoms have to go get set up for their performance.

Since Alex was able to flip Carrie’s hair in All Eyes on Me I’m saying that ghosts can touch lifers if they focus and believe it will happen hard enough, so the ghost gang has developed a system for alerting their non-Julie lifer friends to their presence.

So while they’re waiting in the crowd Willie taps Carrie on the shoulder like: • - - one short tap, two long taps, a Morse code ‘W’ and Carrie lets Flynn know that he’s there.

(Nick can see him too but Nick’s off somewhere with his date {one of his lacrosse teammates you know the one})

Anyway so Julie goes out and starts up the song and then the rest of the band poofs in but

Something’s unusual.

Cause it’s not Luke on the lower main vocals.

It’s

Alex

Singing while he plays the drums and fucking killing it.

Willie totally bluescreens for a second but then when he actually focuses on the lyrics...

It’s a new song about beating the odds and being with the person you love in spite of the challenges that come with them.

And yeah there are Julie elements in there, (and she’s definitely making heart eyes at Luke even as he sticks to backup vocals) because of course there are since she has to start the song up, but

But Willie might not have any formal music training, but he was at the HGC long enough to know his stuff about music and recognize different artists’ styles.

And there’s a time signature switch on the bridge that’s a little off from how Luke would write it. There’s a swing to the melody that’s a bit more ‘pop’ than the band’s usual songs. Julie’s harmony doesn’t go as high as it normally would, as if whoever wrote the song didn’t have as high of an upper range to work with as she does.

The song is so unmistakably Alex that no one else could have written it.

Flynn and Carrie are quietly making smug comments on what they bet his face looks like right now but Willie’s not listening to them.

On the last chorus, Alex fucking winks at him right before poofing out.

Willie has whiplash like how did they go from him having to psych Alex up to break into a museum even when there’s zero chance of getting caught to Alex openly flirting with him from the stage?

He poofs backstage right as the boys get back from dropping their instruments back in the Molinas’ garage and he honestly doesn’t know what he even wants to say to convey how amazing that performance was.

Then Alex just smiles at him.

Alex: So I take it you liked the song?

Willie: Can I kiss you right now?

They both kinda freeze after he blurts that out and Reggie goes wow really quietly before he and Luke poof out to give them some privacy and whoops now they’re both flustered but

Alex: Wow, didn’t expect that. That’s... um, wow. But yeah.

They kiss and it’s a total romcom moment.

And the story’s far from over, but to Willie this definitely feels like happily ever after.

[geffenrecords]

hello lee :3 what r some of ur ocs like idk much abt them yet :00

yessss rai okay u read my mind lets go ily hehe >:-)

okay so ill talk abt my band ocs bc i have yet 2 do so and also i love them ^__^ and if u see similarities between them and mcr no u dont !

so theres like 5 of them, just these fucking dudes in a shitty little town in a shitty little band called wives and husbands. they're kind of known as like ''that local band'' and just play at rlly anything they can get, clubs or dumb venues anything yk yk. they have all the typical dreams of making it Big and Getting Out Of Here, and do they ever? who knows. if they do, they suck bc they never take anything seriously. theyve lied and messed with interviewers so bad that even they've forgotten some stuff. they love talking to people in the crowd and yelling back and forth with random people, but if a reporter comes in they like to play a game to see how much they can bullshit and how long it takes to get them to just give up. whoever gets the winning statement gets to pick a place to eat at that night. they have a few serious interviews tho, dw.

the lead singer is kai, he's this tiny little malewife guy w a dumb haircut and a bandana tied around his head, wears a lot of red, and has a big family. hes like. idk a middle child and loves his little siblings a lot, takes them out all the time. he always promises that if they make it big he'll take them to paris. he likes music like david bowie and probably has daddy issues, and sounds similar to think like.....kellin quinn or vic fuentes. when i first made him he would get rlly emotional while singing and often get too caught up in it and destroy instruments and it caused a lot of arguments between them bc gthat shit is expensive n idk if im gna stay w that, but i like the character development it cld lead to :-)

next is rei [pronounced ''ray'' i got her from some movie i watched w my sibling sorry it sounds like ur name tho sdlkfjs], she's kai's childhood friend, they live down the street from each other, she's the token weird girl love her. she plays rhythm guitar, and shes kind greasy and has a lot of shitty smudged makeup and her hair usually falls in her face and she probably has eaten anything you can find outside. she's kind of a menace playing guitar, jumps screams and rolls around a lot [think frank iero pro rev], but shes good. she kind of does backup vocals, but usually its just loud yelling. she lives w her dad and theyre okay. they have issues they dont talk abt but usually theyll just sit and watch movies together and not talk at all.

imani is their other friend met her when they were like 12 shes awsum <33 shes super tall like 6'7 and has big poofy hair that covers her eyes and big smile i love her :-(. she loves her friends too rei and kai are pretty short and she likes to lift them up or theyll hang off her arms and she wears platforms and all these cute boots so she's like even taller and she also wears a lot of pink, think sanrio :-). shes super nice, does actual backup vocals, and is the lead guitarist. i love drawing her hehe. her family has a little cafe that rei and kai always beg for free food [they usually get it], and her older brother usually hooks them up at venues and stuff.

okay and then alice my queen i love her. shes this tall goth girl with a spiky mullet and heavy freckles, she writes most of their songs and plays bass. she usually wears a leather jacket and big heavy boots, and she doesn't talk like at all. nothing personal they just doesnt have much to say. their voice is really monotone and kind of deep. her parents are big into church, whole family is, so they all look like this little 1920s family and its kinda weird. shes not really into it but goes to please her parents. she has two younger twin brothers that are just as weird. anyway, she met rei and kai through a job rei got and they kind of just harassed her until she said ugh fine. but she rlly does love them all hehe

okay last one this is so long imso sorry augh okay so now we have bear :-) their drummer :-) bear is also kind of quiet, but theyre more snarky and sarcastic, make a lot of snide comments but genuinely they are a nice person. they had bleached blondeish-white hair, and wear a lot of big boots, sweaters, and brown. they also have a van and since theyre the only one who even has a car theyre automatically the driver, and alice gets permanent shotgun bc theyre dating and if you take it bear will kick you. theyll sit anywhere they can and like exploring abandoned buildings

[kar-krashew]

life could be a dream [AO3]

Alec navigates first dates, second dates, and general panic, while accidentally making a friend along the way. He's not sure how to feel about any of that, but it seems to be going okay.

Rated T for language and implied sexual content.

@arsenic-creator for you, my lovely ❤ This is an interlude, of sorts, between the Cars AU and the planned Cars 2 AU :D

Alec is ninety percent sure whoever came up with the concept of first dates was a sadist; who else would devise a concept so nerve-wracking and excruciating? Currently, he’s in a random hotel in Spiral Springs, aptly named as he’s spent the last hour spiraling into insanity as he tries to figure out what normal people wear on first dates with people like Magnus Bane. He can’t even call Izzy, because she’s off on some “important work trip” with Jace. (That basically means that they’re going to be mysterious and vague during phone calls the whole time— and that’s only if they answer. He knows better than to ask.)

Thus, Alec has two options: suffer, and show up to his first date with Magnus in his normal shitty worn-out jeans and shirt, or suffer more, and ask someone in town for help. Unfortunately, the only other people available to him are Raphael (Alec is pretty sure he’d be found dead the next morning if he asked Raphael about dating advice), Ragnor (the man dresses like a reclusive British hermit, Alec really doesn’t think asking him will help), and Simon.

Shit.

“Do I really need someone else’s help?” Alec asks his own reflection in the mirror, “I look fine, right? And it’s not like Simon’s got a better idea of how these dates work.”

He looks great, honestly! Probably. He’s fine, as long as he ignores the suspicious fraying of his collar and the faded white patches on his jeans, and okay, he lied, he does not look fine.

Also, Simon’s had like three pretty steady girlfriends already. The kid must be doing something right.

“Shit,” Alec groans again— out loud this time, for intended effect— before taking a deep breath and grabbing his phone.

Fine. If it takes talking to Simon, he’s going to talk to Simon. Besides, how bad could it be?

---

Really bad. Like, really fucking bad; Alec had forgotten how annoying Simon is, and he’s regretting this decision wholeheartedly now.

“No one’s really asked me for dating advice before, you know,” Simon says from where he’s rummaging through Alec’s suitcase, “And of the people I would expect to ask me, you’re, like, last on that list. Not in a bad way or anything, it’s just weird, you know?”

Alec does know. This is the third time Simon has said this.

“Sure, totally,” he grits out, watching Simon carelessly toss his neatly folded clothing onto the hotel bed. Alec is going to have to reorganize the whole case after this is over, because these sorts of things have systems and the kid is ruining it. This was definitely more trouble than it’s worth.

“Yep. Anyway, wow, I’m no expert, but you really don’t have a lot of options in here.” Simon whistles, pauses for a minute, then upends the entire suitcase onto the mattress before Alec can intercept. God, Alec’s going to strangle him. “That’s better! So, you seem to only have, like, one decent button-down, and those always look nice. Maybe pair it with a tighter pair of jeans? Your jacket would look nice with this, too, though I’d leave it out in this weather.” Simon tosses the articles of clothing towards Alec as he speaks, hitting Alec squarely in the face, but he’s already been distracted by something else before he can register the glare being sent his way.

“Okay,” he says after another moment, “Show me what you got.”

Alec’s skeptical, to be frank, but he decides to indulge Simon anyway, so he heads to the bathroom and tries on the outfit and—

Oh.

Simon’s really not bad at this thing. Izzy probably could’ve picked something a little more flattering, but this is way better than whatever Alec was wearing earlier; he didn’t even know he’d remembered to bring this shirt when he’d packed his bags.

“Hey, man, you look great!” Simon beams. “I wasn’t totally sure that would work out, but you look awesome! Magnus is going to love it.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” Alec replies, and he’s surprised to realize he means it. Simon’s grin stretches out wider, somehow, and Alec doesn’t even feel that annoyed.

(Oh no, does this mean he tolerates Simon now?)

“It’s gonna go great, Alec, don’t worry about it,” Simon responds, oblivious to Alec’s internal turmoil— Alec is seriously having a breakdown over the fact that Simon has somehow made it onto the short list of people Alec doesn’t want to punch on sight, because what the fuck does that say about Alec’s standards? His reputation is on the line. “Magnus has lived here for a while, which means I know him well enough to tell you that you make him really happy.” Alec stares at him blankly.

“I— That means a lot, actually,” he manages, then they both just kind of. . . stand there for a minute. Alec isn’t sure how to process the fact that they seem to be having a moment when he was preparing to initiate anti-Lewis measures just seconds ago, so it’s almost a relief when Simon ruins it with the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“I feel like a proud mother sending her kid to prom. Do I need to give you a sex talk? No one actually gave me that speech when I was younger, but I did improv in highschool, so I could probably work something out.”

Scratch whatever he said earlier; Alec hates him.

---

The trauma Simon inflicts on him is almost completely worth it when Alec sees the way Magnus checks him out for a moment. The other’s standing outside the entrance to some obscure Chinese restaurant, smiling warmly and turning Alec’s knees to jello with his low-cut blue tunic and shimmery eyeliner (not helped by the fact that he has managed to find pants that are even tighter than his usual leather ones— Alec’s going to die of a heart attack before they can even enter the establishment).

“Hey,” he says, trying not to look stupidly overwhelmed at Magnus’s answering smile, “You, uh, you look amazing.”

“I could say the same, Alexander. This shirt is definitely doing you favors,” Magnus replies, and Alec blushes.

“Would it be completely unattractive if I admitted Simon picked it out for me?” he asks, half-serious, but Magnus just laughs, taking Alec’s hand in his own.

“Of course not. Remind me to thank him next time we meet.”

The rest of the night goes by in a blur: Alec’s sure that the restaurant and everything was amazing, but it’s hard to notice things like ambiance and food when one has a front row seat to the wonder that is the gentle tilt of Magnus’s mouth. He spends the night being regaled with far-fetched anecdotes in between shameless bouts of flirting and giggling, and it’s nice, it’s really nice; alone, away from cameras and parents, just the two of them tucked away in a cozy little corner booth together.

It’s kind of the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

Maybe first dates, Alec thinks, lying in bed later that night, the taste of lip gloss still faint on his tongue, aren’t too bad after all.

---

“Oh my gosh, are you going on dates and making friends? I’m so proud, my baby brother is all grown up,” Izzy sniffs over the phone, “Do we need to talk about safe sex?”

“Why is that the conclusion everyone draws? Do I look that repressed?” Alec groans, thinking back to Simon’s earlier pursuit to educate him on the carnal pleasures of the world. He’d managed to cut the kid off after the first use of the word “penetrative,” but it had been enough to fuel his nightmares for a solid two days afterwards. “Also, I’m older than you.”

“Details,” Izzy dismisses. “Speaking of which, spill! How was it? I still can’t believe you ran off to Spiral Springs without telling anyone. Mom must be absolutely livid, I just wish I was there to see it.”

Alec rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see it over the phone— the sentiment is there, and that’s what matters. “You would be here to see it if you weren’t off doing lord-knows-what in god-knows-where every other week with Jace,” he replies.

“Import-export business, Alec,” Izzy says, “I’ve told you this.”

“Right, the same way you’ve told me you can cook without poisoning everyone. We both know it’s a load of bullshit.”

“We’re getting off topic!” his sister exclaims, which is Izzy-speak for “We’re not talking about this for another year or so,” as she artfully changes the subject. “I believe I asked for specifics about your date with Magnus, hermano. You are not getting out of this.”

Luckily for her, Alec is easily distracted by even the vaguest thought or mention of Magnus, because he’s a total fucking sap and Izzy knows exactly how to use it to her advantage. He would say he hates her, but, well: he’s thinking about Magnus now. That’s infinitely more important, obviously.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he sighs. The exhale’s got this kind of pathetically lovesick quality to it, but he barrels on, praying Izzy won’t comment on it. “We ate, then he walked me back to the hotel and kissed me at the door before he left. It was amazing. God, Izzy, I like him so much.”

In a perfect, normal world, this would be an opportune time for Izzy to realize that Alec is kind of horribly vulnerable and honest when it comes to Magnus, and for her to be gentle and supportive about it. However, because normalcy is a pipe dream that Alec’s siblings are hellbent on crushing, he is treated instead to an inhumanly high-pitched squeal, followed by frantic shuffling before a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jace’s floods the phone speaker. Given that the most-definitely-Jace-voice is currently yelling something about condoms and endowment and the logistics of same-sex intercourse, Alec decides that hanging up is the appropriate course of action here.

(God, they’re the worst. He’s never going to talk to them again. Or at least, he’s not going to pick up their calls for the next week. Okay, maybe, like 3 days. Probably.)

Great, he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Now that that’s settled, he can get back to other matters, like fucking losing his mind because he had totally forgotten to ask Izzy how to plan a second date so he’s now screwed but he’s definitely not calling her back especially now that he knows Jace has her phone and that means he’s been left to his own resources to plan the perfect second date for Magnus and he’s going to have to do it all by himself and he’s going to fail spectacularly because he’s never had to do anything like this before and no one can help him unless—

Unless. . .

“Shit,” Alec says— out loud, for intended effect again, as a horrible flash of deja vu strikes him— which is how, minutes later, Simon ends up sprawled out on the hotel bed next to him at 4 pm on a Wednesday afternoon.

Alec should really start looking into better coping mechanisms before this becomes a problem.

“Okay, so the first thing about this is that you’re approaching it all wrong,” Simon says, sitting up to peer at Alec over his glasses. “Dates are about spending time together, not about being perfect, so don’t stress! What did you initially have in mind?”

That’s the issue: Alec didn’t have anything in mind, because when he had said that he’d organize the next date, he wasn’t exactly operating on full brain function. Impaired thought processes tend to be a common side effect around Magnus, now that Alec thinks about it— he should probably get that checked.

“I really have no clue,” Alec groans. “There’s so much that could go wrong! What if I take him somewhere that reminds him of his ex? Or I stumble and spill slushie all over his shoes and they’re brand new designer ones and he ends things with me on the spot? Or he hates the food there and realizes that my tastes are shit and he decides to cut his losses instead of being forced to eat shitty food everyday that he hangs out with me? Or—”

“Alec, jeez!” Simon interrupts. “Man, you’re kind of a mess about this, huh?”

Okay, rude. Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean it needs to be pointed out. Alec just groans louder, and lets his head fall heavily against the headboard. “I’m so fucked.”

Simon shakes his head, standing up to pose solemnly. “Don’t lose hope yet, young padawan! Come on, you gotta have something. What do you know he likes?” he says, and because Alec is a sucker when it comes to talking about Magnus (as established earlier), the tactic totally works.

“Okay, well,” he starts, “I know he likes expensive wines with names I can’t pronounce. He likes late nights and old classical music, but his ringtone changes every week to a different Britney Spears pop song. He’s kind of a horrible romantic, but I really like that about him. I. . . like a lot of things about him.”

Simon blinks for a moment, and Alec hurries to wipe the besotted smile that’s inevitably found its way onto his mouth. It’s too late, though— Simon’s already grinning back at him, looking too excited for his own good. “That’s so cheesy,” he coos, “But in, like, totally a good way, I promise.” He pats Alec’s shoulder, once, then stands up. “I think I have an idea of what would work. Any ideas in terms of the venue?”

“Oh,” Alec says after a moment. He’s still thinking about Magnus, which means he’s thinking about their previous meetings, which means he’s thinking about—

“Yeah,” he replies, “I have the perfect place in mind.”

---

“So, where are we headed?” Magnus asks. He’s beautiful like this, in the light of the passing streetlights, silver chains glinting like stars, silk tunic flowing like water, hair mussed from the wind. If Alec didn’t have a plan for this evening, he’d probably do something very dumb like slamming the breaks on the car and kissing him senseless. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, not by a long shot.

Maybe he can fit that part later into the evening.

“You’ll see,” Alec replies, beaming a little at the pout it brings on Magnus’s— stupidly kissable— mouth. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Magnus frowns, but he still leans forward as they pass by a familiar waterfall. Alec can see the moment he processes what that waterfall means, his face lighting up completely as he does so. “Are we going to the Dumont?”

Alec shrugs, trying to be mysterious, but he’s grinning too wide for it to mean anything but a yes. It’s fine; if ruining the surprise means that he gets to see Magnus’s bright smile an extra few moments earlier than planned, it’s totally worth it.

When they finally pull up next to the old sign, Magnus has already noticed the changes to the hotel. “Oh,” he gasps, stepping out of the car, “Alexander.”

Lights are strung up around the outdoor courtyard, with a singular table in the center, a candle and plates arranged across its surface. Simon’s standing there, dressed in a black dress shirt, grinning at the two of them as music plays softly from some unknown corner. It’s horribly cheesy and romantic, and, judging by the way Magnus is excitedly clutching Alec’s hand as they approach the table, it’s worked like a charm.

Alec could marry Simon after this; the kid’s a fucking genius.

“Good evening, sirs!” Simon grins, “Welcome to the Hotel Dumont. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” He bows, pulling out a chair from behind him, and Magnus laughs delightedly.

“This is absolutely lovely!” he exclaims, settling down. “Did you come up with all this?”

Alec blushes, sitting down right beside him. “Well, Simon did most of the work,” he replies, and Simon shakes his head.

“He’s totally lying; he did, like, all of the decorations and set up, and most of the plan, too. I’m just glad to be of help, man.” He hands them menus, then steps back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment while you decide. Don’t do anything too scandalous!”

Alec rolls his eyes— because really, what could they get up to sitting like this?— but then Magnus places his hand on Alec’s thigh as he leans closer and okay, maybe there’s a lot they could get up to, and maybe Alec is now thinking about all those things in a setting he really should not be, and maybe he should’ve let Izzy give him that talk after all.

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, leaning closer still, “All of this is amazing, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” He tilts his face up invitingly, and Alec’s helpless to the pull of it, pressing his lips against the other’s. It’s supposed to be just a light brush, but then Magnus shifts nearer and opens his mouth up a little further and fuck, Alec’s libido is suddenly making a desparate appearance in this very public locale. That’s an issue, probably. Whatever. He can’t really bring himself to care right now.

“Mm,” he hums between kisses, “we should really decide on what to eat— hm, before Simon comes back,” but then he chases after Magnus’s mouth right after saying it, so that undermines the message a little. Though no one can really say it’s his fault: kissing Magnus is temptation incarnate, and Alec is a weak, weak man.

They do, eventually, unfortunately, break apart, which is exactly when Simon finally shows up with some expensive drink that he’d sworn Magnus would like. It seems to fill the has-an-impossible-to-pronounce-name quota that Alec had mentioned earlier, so he’s rolling with it. He’s also rolling with the menu, because Alec had planned on pre-planned meals for this thing, so he has no clue where Simon had managed to get proper menus with a selection of food (though the Spanish-themed cuisine on the menu and the passive-aggressive text he receives the next day from Raphael might be able to explain that).

Simon’s left them and they’re finally finished with their courses when some even sappier song starts playing on the speakers, and Alec, being a total dork, stands up and invites Magnus to dance with him. Alec’s kind of shit at dancing, so he’s not sure why he does that, but they end up pressed against each other, swaying slowly, and he can’t even regret it, not even when Magnus laughs at him for stepping on his toes.

It’s perfect. Alec has no clue how he’s going to live up to this on future dates. He’s also, like, halfway to proposing on the spot.

“I reiterate my statement from earlier: this is absolutely lovely, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs after a while. His head’s pressed against Alec’s shoulder, so the words brush Alec’s ear softly as he speaks. “I have quite a bit of planning to do for our next date if this is the standard we’re setting already,” he teases.

“We could eat takeout on my couch while watching some boring regency-era movie and I’d still love it,” Alec replies bashfully, “I got a little nervous this time and went really big, but I promise you don’t have to go this hard to impress me.”

“And you thought you did?” Magnus asks. He pulls away slightly, looking Alec in the eyes. “Darling, the same goes for me. This is stunning, but I genuinely just like you and your company, and that takeout thing sounds more than enjoyable. Though we might have to revisit your opinion on regency-era movies.”

Alec grins. “Why, Mr. Bane, don’t tell me you enjoy watching such long-winded pieces of media, filled to the brim with such stuffy, superfluous dialogue?”

Magnus gasps, seemingly affronted. “How dare you!” he exclaims, “It’s about the drama, the yearning! I’m sure you just haven’t seen the right ones. Next time, I’m making you watch my entire collection.” Alec laughs in response, and it seems to soften something in Magnus’s eyes, because he pulls close again, tilting their foreheads together.

“You know, Mr. Lightwood,” he murmurs, “I’m not the sort of gentleman to invite someone into my home on only our second evening together, but I’m sure I could make an exception for someone of your stature, especially given the amount of time we’ve spent together outside of these official meetings.”

Oh fuck, this is really happening. “How scandalous, Mr. Bane,” Alec somehow manages, then Magnus is giggling and kissing him, and yeah, Alec is so on board with this plan. He’s even more on board with the plan when Magnus leads him to the car, and then leads him up the stairs to his loft.

He’s not even annoyed when he wakes up to Simon’s strangely supportive “Congrats on the sex!” text, because there’s a man lying against his chest who he thinks he could easily fall in love with, and literally nothing else matters right now. It’s him and Magnus against the world: everything else can wait.

(Alec replies to Simon with a single middle finger emoji. He likes the kid, but Simon doesn’t need to know that.)

(The Star Wars movie marathon the two of them end up doing a week later kind of gives it away anyway.)

[boxofbadaddiction]

Can't stop thinking about the idea of Fred and Charlie having a Chilli eating contest.

So here's a breakdown of the ridiculously vivid mental image currently living rent free in my mind. Enjoy :)

🌶 🌶 🌶

There's a bowl placed infront of each of them that's piled high with picked Chilli's.

They're glaring across the table at each other like Cowboys having a stand-off.

Bill's at one end of the table with two fingers raised on one hand, his eyes are shifting between both brothers, readying to give the order for them to begin. Drawing out a quiet "on your marks..."

The other siblings are stood behind whoever they're backing and have placed bets.

George is stood by Fred murmuring quiet encouragement and reasurrance that he's "got this" while Bill has his spare hand on his shoulder to show his support. Ginny and Ron are on Charlie's either side. Percy is sat at the end of the table "uninterested and studying" but he's secretly watching on from the corner of his eye.

Tensions run high as Bill speaks "...get set."

Fred raises a taunting brow as he smiles sinisterly to his big brother "You're going down old man."

"Mum's in the garden, just so you know, for you to run crying to when you lose." Charlie retorts.

Ron's sweating while Ginny rubs circles on Charlies back supportively.

When Bill drops his hand shouting passionately "EAT!" The two contestants all but dive into their bowls, eating 2, 3, 4 at a time.

They start off confidently. The heat not getting to them at all. But as they work a small dent into the pile infront of them and the minutes tick by they begin to sweat, mouths on fire, despite the cool and collected disposition they're attempting to maintain.

Their siblings are cheering loudly for the pair, Bill now standing directly behind Fred massaging his shoulders like a Boxing coach as he yells his support.

Percy has joined in now, stood next to George, shouting for Fred as he bends over the table pumping his fist in the air and clapping loudly.

Charlie and Fred are glaring at one another trying to psych the other out.

A few more minutes pass by, there's still more than half a bowl left for both Boys but now their "I've got this" facade has waned: they're coughing slightly, their faces are red and their breathings unsteady. They're both now sporting identical looks of "What have I gotten myself into" and "I just have to last longer than he does."

10 minutes pass: the siblings are slowly losing interest, but not completely, as they watch on. Charlie is leant over his bowl with his hands scrunched in his hair trying to force himself to continue eating. A shakey hand reluctantly brings a single chilli to his mouth that near refuses to open as he bites it slowly, grimacing at the burn that spreads across his tongue and the sick feeling settling in his stomach.

Fred's not in much better shape. Slouched in his chair, one hand braces the tables edge tightly while he leans onto his other forearm drawing deep breaths staring to the seemingly never ending bowl of Chilli's infront of him. Also reluctantly forcing himself to take another, scrunching his eyes closed in discomfort.

Bill, George and Ginny are leant back against the kitchen sink, their arms folded across their chests while they watch on quietly, commenting on the two. Ron meanwhile has made himself a sandwich and is sat eating contently beside Charlie. Percy is sat beside Fred giving offhand advice: "You know you don't have to keep putting yourself through this. It's okay to quit" "Godrick, Perce, who's side are you on?"

The amount of Chilli's in either boys bowl are dwindling: maybe a handful or less between them.

Charlie and Fred have stopped eating completely now. Staring at one another as they breathe heavily. Faces red and sweaty. Their siblings hardly paying any attention now: Percy has gone back to studying, Ron's picking at his teeth and the other 3 are talking Quidditch.

"Ready to give up?" Charlie questions, silently hoping the answers yes. "Not a chance," Fred chuckles forcibly. "What you getting tired, Old boy?" "No! Of course not." Their eye contact falters. "...I'm a little tired." Charlie voices honestly. "God! I'm fucking exhausted." Fred sighs with an exasperated expression.

Charlie swallows harshly, reaching a hand across the table, "Truce?" "Truce." Fred shakes his brothers palm in agreement.

Bill elbows George's side noting the contestants movement at the table, "what are youse quitting?" The other kids walk over to see how far the pair have come as they get up moving for a glass of milk and water at the Kitchen sink.

Percy looks to the bowl noting the few left.

"Charlie's left 9. Fred's left 7. Freddie wins."

Bill and George cheer at this, clapping their brother on the back as he raises a fist in the air chugging a glass of water: seemingly letting more run down the sides of his face than down his throat. Ginny groans dropping 6 sickles into George's open palm at the announcement.

With a loud sigh as he finishes drinking Fred puts his glass to the counter and lifts his shirt, wiping the perspiration from his face roughly and shaking his head like a wet dog to lose some of the sweat from his hair before turning to his grumbling older brother.

"Tough luck, Grandpa, told ya you weren't a match for me." He grins smugly.

"Yeah alright, Rooster, don't go getting cocky on me now." Charlie smiles, wrapping an arm around Freds shoulders and pulling him into his chest. As he ruffles the older Twins hair with a fond smile he speaks simply "Good job, Mischief." Pushing him away with a playful tap on the back of his head that the younger boy swats away.

Fred walks away with a wide smile and joyful chuckle.

[sou-ver-2-0]

Writing Master List

I love writing analysis and fanfiction for Your Turn to Die. Here, you can find links to all my writing. Spoilers abound!

Meta I’m Proudest Of

Why Calling It “Logic Versus Emotion” Makes Sense

Sou Hiyori and Kanna’s Sister Parallels

I was wondering why Sou had a zero percent survival rate…

What is Sou proudest of?

What is Kanna proudest of?

What is Keiji proudest of?

Unpopular opinion about Keiji

What are your thoughts on Nao as a character?

Why pushing Fake Reko is logical and sparing her is emotional

Shin vs. Kanna choice: each “valid in its own way”

That was a real comedy of errors on your part, Shin

What “Things” did Shin learn at Sou’s House?

If I could kill Keiji to save both Kanna and Shin...

Thoughts on queer-coded villains and Shin

I make Shin say five nice things about Keiji (not meta, but important)

Some jumbled thoughts about Redemption, and Part 2

How different do you think the story would be if Shin were a girl?

Theories

“Midori is Meister’s son,” and other Sou theories <- my favorite theory!

The Hades Incident, the Present Death Game, and the Role of the Man from the Memorandum

Rambling about Meister Family Theory

A Quick Keiji Theory

I’m staking my pride on this one: Keiji won’t die in the coffin. Part 1 and Part 2

Implications of Kanna being Original Sou’s blood relative

The Mystery of Anzu’s High Survival Rate

Fanfiction

My username is Florencetheflowerfairy on Ao3! Any fanfiction I write will be tagged “my fanfiction” on here.

I haven’t yet posted this to Ao3.

My fanart

Soup Hiyori

Happy birthday Kanna!

All of my meta

How does Sou deal with pain?

When does Sou feel safest? What would others change about him?

What would the others change about Sara?

What do I wish to see happen with Sou?

Chapter 3 Prediction: Sara will lose Keiji

Sou & Keiji’s relationship thoughts; and Personal Headcanons

Opinion on Midori / Original Sou; and Opinion on YTTS

Thoughts on Kurumada’s Partnership with Sou and Kanna

What calms Sou when he’s upset?

What does Sou wish he could change about himself?

Who would be Sou’s favorite fictional character?

What would EVERYONE change about Sou?

How did both Sous do in school?

Who does Sou want to please the most?

How would Kanna spend her money?

What calms Kai when he’s upset? How does Kai deal with pain?

How does Kanna do in school? What’s something Original Sou lost that he would love to have back?

What’s something I wish had happened with Joe?

Unpopular opinion about Q-Taro

What’s something I wish had happened with the Yabusame siblings?

Unpopular opinion about Kai

Unpopular opinion about Original Sou

Who would I vote for in the Second Main Game?

Laughing at Q-Taro in Russian Roulette

Speaking of “I laugh at inappropriate moments in YTTD”

Math Saga (Collection of Theorizing Posts about the Percentage Papers)

Why Kanna can’t take the scarf

More Scarf Meta

I think Shin should fake amnesia in the zaniest way possible, please

Thoughts on Mr. Policeman is Joe’s Dad Theory, Parts 1 and 2 (Some of these thoughts are outdated because I don’t think Keiji knew Joe’s last name in the beginning.)

If I ever seem too harsh on Keiji, please keep in mind

We can hear Joe’s music theme in Midori’s music theme

Thoughts on the Floor Masters

Did Shin send the Sacrifice Card to Joe?

What if Joe had one month to live?

What is Original Sou proud of?

Reading Shin as Queer

Alice and Pain

What would other people change about Kai?

Could Shin and Keiji’s roles switch?

What was Keiji like before the shooting?

I encouraged Sister to vote for Kai in Practice Round

How does Original Sou/Midori sleep?

Who do you think Keiji would bond with the most?

Analysis of Sara’s vote in the Practice Vote

Massacre Ending Thoughts

Thoughts on Naosara?

Dummy Bullet Saga (How did Shin know about dummy bullets??)

Keiji is my Confront Character

What will the fallout with the dummies look like?

Keiji seeing the percentage papers is the simplest answer IMO

Thoughts on Keialice

Thoughts on Joesara

Shin Tsukimi could have DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY?!

Shin is Poor! Part 1 and Part 2 and Part 3

One more funny story, on a walk with Sister...

How would Shin have fared in the Death Game without the Sou persona?

Is Shin too good for this world? (Reaction to above meta)

How would Joe, Kai, and Mishima approach the Second Main Game vote?

What do you think would be Shin’s partnership ability?

Thoughts on AI personalities

Reaction to ‘Sara gets the Sage Card’ Theory

Have you considered the implications of 0.0% vs. 0%?

Foolish Sara AU

When does the Death Game take place, and how long are they there?

Shin’s relationships with Reko and Gin

“When you drink, you gotta be careful not to get swallowed up yourself.”

Judge Keiji by the fact that he’s acting like a cop

I’ve switched to calling him Shin! 

What was Shin like in the years after Original Sou died, but before the Death Game?

Headcanons and Shin, Kanna, and trading tokens

Analyzing Shin and Sara’s doll placements in Safalin’s lab

Shin’s reaction to Sara’s “Haven’t we always been the bestest of friends?”

Scenario: Keymaster Kanna takes Shin’s key necklace instead of his scarf

Artists should draw Kanna grieving Shin however they like

Nao and Shin’s friendship

“I happen to like people with nice personalities”

I’m just putting these here so I can find them if necessary: 1, 2, 3

What if Shin thinks Sara is an adult?

Shrodinger’s Lock Saga (Many theories came from speculating about Asu-Naro’s weird locks in Sara’s first trial!)

Shin emulating Sou, oh no

Some thoughts on Shin and Alice, and the darker side to their relationship

A Serious Analysis of the Collarbone Sprites (& other Shin sprites)

Midori and Joe Sprite Parallels

Do you think Ranmaru is more or less reliable than Keiji?

Ranmaru and Keiji Parallels and Thoughts on Keiji flirting

Ranmaru and Keiji reacting to Joe

Out of the cast, who do you think is most likely to be the mastermind?

Miley vs. Gashu thoughts

Megumi Sasahara theories and headcanons

I love that this game’s heart is so earnest

AU where Shin has the Sacrifice, and he can’t pick Kanna

Theory/Headcanon: Sou-Shin-Sara-Kanna three year age gaps

Scenery Paintings in the Gallery

Kanna and Original Sou Parallel - “creepy smiles”

Undertale Parallels, and making Original Sou sympathetic

Kai and Original Sou Parallels

Fic ideas: Green-haired characters, and Shin + Sara Friendship

I love Fake Reko so much!

What if the decision to push Fake Reko affects what happens with the dummies?

Follow-up to above meta about Fake Reko

What if Joe died in his First Trial?

Reaction to Keiji Discourse about flirting, Part 2

Reactions to Fem!Shin:

Kanna’s perspective, Bath Scene Shin, More Bath Scene, Keiji flirting with Shin, I DON’T CARE HOW SEXY HE IS, Am I a lesbian

Will the dummies want to fill in for their counterparts’ lives?

Q-Taro Pacman Sister Theory

Poison Stinger analysis and Rio Ranger’s characterization

Megumi returns as a doll theory

More thoughts on “Back Up Candidates” Theory

Thoughts on AIs representing younger personalities

What if the current Death Game is another simulation?

Shin and Q-Taro ages musings

Shin and Sara ages musings

Honorifics Analysis: Part 1 and Part 2

Everyone’s music preferences headcanons

Shin’s thoughts on Gin in Logic Route

What if Shin died and Kai survived in the Second Main Game?

Imagine Trans Kanna

Thoughts on the names Sara “suspects” when learning that there is a human from Asu-Naro among us

Why doesn’t Shin challenge Keiji for lying that he’s a detective at the start?

Shipping

Which death hurt you the most?

Who do you think is overrated? Who do you think is suspicious?

Shin-Sou roleswap AU

Did you ever notice how Shin is crying during the First Main Game?

How do you think the characters sleep?

What if Shin became Sara’s ally instead of Keiji?

Seven Deadly Sins in YTTD

Song Analyses

“Rat” by Penelope Scott

“Villainous Thing” by Shayfer James

“Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met)” by Panic! at the Disco

“Butterflies and Hurricanes” by Muse

"House of memories" by Panic! at the Disco

More fun posts

Sister tag (All submissions by my sister)

Sometimes I get self-conscious for loving Sou Hiyori so much

Thinking about how our Sou Hiyori is a queer-coded villainous type

Picrew of the Greenblings

Fannish ramblings and Speculation about Voting for Keiji in 2nd Main Game

Sou has a halo in the manga

Sprite Parallels between Kanna, Sara, and Sou

Confession: Character development is more important than plot twists

Star Wars KOTOR musings

My Favorite Thing about Sou and Sara meeting

Another Greenblings Picrew

How to roast my fave

Are the greenblings next to each other??

Me feeling soft about Sou x Alice and Sou x Kai in spite of myself

I’m too much of a nerd for tumblr

Picrew of Green-haired characters and Sara

Cute Kurumada and Kanna headcanons

Do it for Nao

Happy birthday Keiji, from Sou

Danganronpa Thoughts as of 10/22/20

Top 3 emotional moments

Comparing Eye Sizes

I’m all caught up with 3-1A as of 10/24/20

Link to my “Shin attacking Inbox” edit

I am my PFP

“Disclosure” apparently means “Coming Out”

What did you name your Midori?

Do you think Shin was a gamer?

PMMM Thoughts: Logic vs Emotion

Why would you make Shin a tank?!

Dracula is Sou and Shin is Renfield

Among Us Headcanon

I just think Kanna having the Keymaster first is good drama

So long you fucking fascist (posted on 11/7/20)

Please don’t send me leaks!

Also how are we going to tag spoilers...? (11/12/20)

oh no I’m getting sentimental

Shin and Sara’s confrontation over the smartphone remains my favorite thing ever

Reactions to “I make Shin say five nice things about Keiji”: 1, 2, 3

A Rewarding part of my blog

My undying love for Britney Spears

“Ahaha, I’m glad you remembered my name.”

I love this picrew for the Greenblings

“Saw” and “Cage” on Google Translate

What if there were two Gonbee Yamadas?

Put them in meme boxes

Keiji’s emo eyeliner

Shin can smash something! and part 2

Acrostic Poem for Sou Hiyori

Midori’s canon voice

“Sou” puns

Time sensitive questions!! 1 and 2

All the characters’ ages

Do you think Shin swears?

Let’s not pit bears and twinks against each other!

Here’s how Shindemption can still win

tfw you draw fanart in time for Kanna’s birthday

Keiji accuses Shin of breaking Mishima’s monitor even though he KNOWS Shin is innocent

Q-Taro and Shin college AU

Kugie’s ghost haunting Keiji

Christmas 2020: Part 1 and Part 2

Picrew of Shin and Sou, High School Days~

I struggle to write villains

I play Villains Bingo with Shin

…

This list will be updated sporadically as I write more! You can always use the “mine” tag to find any worthwhile original post I make.

Please feel free to talk to me about YTTD anytime! I love hearing from you all! It keeps me motivated and makes me happy to meet people!

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Deltarune Chapter 2 Had Out Awesome Undertale

on September 21, 2021 I beat Chapter 2 of Deltarune.

(also possible spoilers in this, so please only read this if you have beaten Chapter 2 of Deltarune.) 

it took me maybe a few days, but I finally got around to beating it. I hope no one take this the wrong way, but I think that Deltarune Chapter 2 has out-awesomed Undertale,

I still love Undertale but Deltarune's Chapter 2 is very....epic. (well I think is, and it's okay that not everyone agrees that it is more epic than Undertale.)

sure I had a little trouble here and there, but it turned out to be really fun and I do plan to play Chapter 2 again.

but starting with Chapter 1 first then working up to Chapter 2.

I'm glad I was able to play it, it seems you have to beat Deltarune-Chapter 1 first before you can play the Deltarune Chapter 1&2.

yes at first because I wasn't able to play the Chapter 2 at first, I decided to watch a walkthrough of it.....which I was only able to watch the next day.

but playing it myself was more fun and it really was awesome, it might take a few years (maybe either two or three.) until Chapter 3 comes out,

but it will be worth the wait.

don't know who Mike is though, unless it's Mike from FNAF lol......

can't be the Mike in the Undertale's Credits....must be a different Mike.  

maybe we will learn more about Mike from Deltarune in the future.

also I can't help but think that Kris might be the Knight, and they have this dark side to them and the one that Susie is truly making friends with

is the Player, who is the new "Kris" and keeping the Old-Kris's dark side in check so they don't do anything too dangerous....maybe?

I believe I know why I am not able to play Undertale Fan Game, Kissy Cutie.

it might have to do with it being how I couldn't play Deltarune Chapter 1&2, until I beat Deltarune Chapter 1 in the original.

it was a new save in the original, so it was good that beat that and then tried to open up the Deltarune Chapter 1&2 again.

and to my surprise the game started to play without that blue pop-up message.

I'm not sure if it is right, that the Kissy Cutie game will start to play normal after you beat the Undertale and get the happy ending.

but I guess I could try to see if that works.

I need to say this about Noelle from Deltarune..........

the whole Yandere-Noelle might be canon.....

just like how the Pie that Kris eats is canon, so must be the Yandere-Noelle.

also I think Catti either loves Noelle as just a friend or she might have a crush on her and sees Susie as a rival.

my headcanon is that Catti has a crush on Noelle and she sees Susie as her rival.

I don't know how many players have scooted Lancer to the table after he got turned to stone....

I do not know if Lancer ate the spaghetti or not, but I know when I did go back to that room (before facing Queen)......

the spaghetti was gone, and the stone Lancer was still at the table too.

there is a reason why I think Yandere-Noelle is canon......but maybe not as deadly.....unless we end up going down a Geno-Route.

I really hope to go down the Weird Route, Weird Route For Life.

Weirdness Is Magic!

I plan to play the Deltarune Chapter 1 & 2 version from the very beginning,

and work my way back to Chapter 2.

also while playing Undertale, I got this theory that pop into my head

that the two figures that Frisk and Alphys see when they are about ready to go face Mettaton.

my theory is that the two shadow figures they first see, aren’t the monsters that Frisk faces....

but it turning out to be Kris and Susie, who’s adventure might be in the Undertale Chapter of Deltarune......I guess that theory might be a bit crazy

and it is not likely to happen.

but I think there could be a possibility of Undertale appearing in Deltarune,

as a future Chapter, and there being a side story within the Undertale Chapter within Deltarune, and in the Undertale Chapter we do not have control of Frisk.

but we still hold some control over Kris, and it could turn out that in the Undertale Chapter, Frisk is on their Geno-Run and this time it isn’t the Player that is making them do it.....because in that Chapter we aren’t in control of Frisk and Chara isn’t either.

I do have a theory that the Red Soul in Frisk, is NOT Chara or even Frisk.

the Red Soul powering the underground that you can find in the True Lab when you are turning on the power on that generator thing.

if you look closely you will see there is a red type heart in the middle,

which might be Chara’s Soul, and if we do a Geno-Run in might be possible that Chara’s Soul will find a way to talk to us by some form of Soul Telepathic Link.

Chara ending up appearing in Frisk’s mind and speaking to us through the dark mind space in Frisk’s mind.

and the Red Soul that is seen in the Undertale game, the one that can be seen in the fights.......was never Frisk’s Soul.

the Red Soul is the Player, this means that the Red Soul in Deltarune

is also the Red Soul from Undertale and they are both the Players.

if this is true that would mean without the players,

Frisk in the canon of Undertale, is Soulless.

if we think about it, Frisk would have their own Soul in the Fanon AU.

it might be possible that Kris, when not having the Red Soul/Player’s Soul in them.

they are not as they appear to be, yes they could come off as a bit mischievous.

like with the whole eating all the pie

but what if there is a more darker side to Kris, and what if it turned out there was another Soul controlling Kris and they are the ones that rip out our Soul out from Kris?

remember what Asriel said before in Undertale,

when both he and Chara shared a body, the control over the body was split between them.   

it’s possible that Kris has more than one soul in them,

one being their own, the second being the one who acts as a villain,

and the third being us the players.

and if we decide to kill any one in the Deltarune Chapters

(or at least try to....)

then that might give the second soul controlling Kris even more control.

or not.....it could be that Kris only has two souls in them,

their soul and the Player’s soul.

I do have a theory that Kris might be the Knight,

well either them or Papyrus or Gaster or Asriel.

anyone of those four could be the Knight.

but the top suspect of being the Knight now, is Kris.

and this is thanks to what I have seen in Chapter 2,

both watching the walkthrough and even playing it myself.

it might be possible when we do take over Kris’s body,

we end up freeing Kris from another soul that might be the Knight.

it be interesting if when the choices pop up,

they come in two different colors to show which ones is what the Player would pick or Kris would pick.

the Player could end up choosing to pick what Kris wants,

or the Player could end up picking the the choice that isn’t the color that shows to be what Kris would want.

the color of the choices would be a Turquoise (Kris)

and Red (Player)

depending on the Player, we could choose to go with just the red color choices

or the turquoise color choices, if we choose the turquoise color choices

it can mean we value Kris’s opinion and want to show that their choices matter.

it be interesting if they add that in a future chapter.

  I'm thinking of changing my tumblr name again, even if it hasn't been that long since I had changed my first tumblr username...

but I still want to put down my original tumblr name on any new drawings I post on tumblr, just to be safe and so there will be no misunderstandings.

I still want my Tumblr to be about a Deltarune-Flowey The Flower,

so even if I do change my tumblr username to something that isn't "Flowey"

I still want to be Flowey The Flower type.....as well as a Crossover.

and if I do decided to change my tumblr username for the second time.

going from floweytheflower-of-deltarune to [redacted]

I will have to edit the last drawing post I had put up that had floweytheflower-of-deltarune on it.

I will keep thinking about it.

but anyway the Chapter 2 of Deltarune was really REALLY awesome.

and it does seem to be a bit more epic than Undertale.

which once again I still love Undertale, but Chapter 2 has out did it.

for some reason Queen reminds me of White Diamond.

I do have a theory about Susie,

that either one she is a orphan or two she comes from a abusive home

and one or both of her parents might treat her badly.

and she let’s out her anger by bullying others

and the reason why she eats chalk and the other stuff she shouldn’t.

is because she isn’t getting enough to eat at home and might be malnourished.

Susie might also not be only child, she might be a older sister or younger sister.

and her bond with Lancer, taking up the Big Sister Role to him.

might show she has a Protective Big Sister side to her.

it might be possible that she gives half of her food to her younger sibling

and Susie doesn’t eat much at home because of how her parents treat both her and her little sibling.

if it is true that Susie has a younger sibling, it might be possible that Susie’s younger sibling is in Toriel’s class.

and given some info in the Chapter 2,

we might know the bio-gender of Susie’s sibling.

which if you read what I wrote on top about not reading this unless you beaten Chapter 2....

I can say now, that it is possible that Susie might have a little sister.

and the little sister might be in Toriel’s class.

I did do a drawing of what I think Susie’s little sister might look like.

as well as what Susie’s Mom might look like too.

but I don’t want to post them just yet.

it be cute if Susie’s little sister appeared in a future chapter

and once meeting Noelle, Berdly and Kris.

the little sister tells them “you can’t have my big sis! big sis is mine!”

of course Noelle might find this really precious, maybe it will remind her how much she loved her older sister when she was Susie’s little sister’s age.

speaking of Noelle’s sister, I did draw up a ship drawing between her and Deltarune’s Asriel.

if both the Holiday and Dreemurr families are both Boss Monsters

then I hope they reveal that in a future chapter.

it might be possible that both the Dreemurr and Holiday families

come from a Royal heritage,

if this is true that would make Noelle technically a Princess.  

I’m calling Fan Headcanon on that theory.

also it is pretty obvious that Yandere Noelle is canon.

because of what we see in Chapter 2.

it might be possible that Kris has three souls in them,

one being theirs, the other being the Player and the other being possibly the Knight.

Kris’s true soul might be Turquoise blue type color.

what trait a Turquoise Soul is, well maybe it will be hinted in the game.

I really love Chapter 2 of Deltarune, and I know that Chapter 3 will be worth the wait.

and if Sans was hinting in Chapter 2 about Chapter 3, we might see it in a few years....then again I could be wrong about Sans hinting.

sadly we didn’t get to meet Papyrus in Chapter 2,

but we just have to be patient.   

I think that besides the Players choices mattering in the game,

I think Kris’s choices should matter too.

so when the choices do pop up, they should come in Red for the Player

and Turquoise for Kris.

if we choose the turquoise color choices, it is still gonna be Kris’s choice

as it shows we are picking what Kris wants.

it be interesting if that happens.

also I would still like to know who Mike is that is mention in Chapter 2.

it might not be the one that is in the credits, so it has to be a different Mike all together, but who they are is unknown.

I hope some of you agree that the choices of the Player and Kris,

should be in Red and Turquoise.

we might be the Red Soul in both Undertale and Deltarune,

but we should try to look at it being in a symbiotic relationship.

where we make sure to keep Kris and their friends safe,

and try to fight off the other soul that had control of them before we came into their lives in Chapter 1.

also it might be possible that while both Undertale and Deltarune are two different timelines and AUs of each other.

it could be possible that before the start of those two games,

one could travel between if he machine that allowed it was turned on.

the Sans from Deltarune, might of came from a non-stop Geno Route Timeline

and had no other choice but to take both himself, his brother and other survivors to the Deltarune Timeline where they would be safe from Frisk.

I and a lot of other fans might believe this to be canon, and it would make sense given the evidence of the former Grilby’s turned into convenience store.

like what if in a future Chapter that is called “Undertale: Geno-Route”

it shows the world that Sans and his brother came from

and Sans ends up telling Kris, Susie and the others that he had to leave because it was becoming too dangerous and he didn’t want to watch his brother die again by the hands of the human named Frisk.

the Frisk that we the Players make to be more innocent and being full of love.

might be different from the Frisk that is in the canon of the game

and who knows how Frisk was before we the Player’s taken control of them.

but we do know that the Red Soul in Deltarune, could be the same one in Undertale, which would mean that we the Players are the Red Soul.

and while Kris could of had their own Turquoise Soul before we came into the picture.

and Chara could have the same color Red Soul as the Player,

which is being used to power the underground.

it could turn out that Frisk in the canon of Undertale,

is Soulless and is only given a Soul that belongs to the Player....

so Flowey might be right about Frisk’s Soul not being theirs.

I am glad I finally figured out why I couldn’t seem to play Deltarune Chapter 1&2 at first, it had to do with not beating the new save I had that had to do with the first Deltarune Chapter 1 before the version that had Chapters 1 and 2 came out.

if you beat the first version, then when you click on the new Deltarune Chapters 1&2, the blue popup message wont show up and the game will run normally.

so it’s best to keep the original Deltarune download.

[fiction-fun]

A Hidden History

Fandom: The Simpsons

Pairings: Monty Burns/Waylon Smithers

Words: 4363

Warnings: Suicide mention, child abuse, spousal abuse

The young woman stood outside of the doors to the large mansion clutching a few files in her hands.

'So many people have told me not to come here, but he deserves to know the truth. That’s all I want, is to share the truth.” She thought before squaring her shoulders and knocking on the large doors.

She heard the quick tip-tap of footsteps coming from the other side and smiled gently. The door swung open and a man with a purple bowtie stood there looking at her.

“Yes? How can I help you?” The man asked.

She took a deep breath and held out her hand, barely managing to keep the files from slipping out of her grasp.

“Hello, I’m Kaleyanna King, I was hoping Mr. Burns could spare a few minutes to hear of an old….uhm…acquaintance of his.” Kaleyanna said trying to word it right.

The man paused before sighing and waving her in.

“I can’t guarantee he’ll meet with you, and I also can’t guarantee that he won’t release the dogs on you, but I will go ask him.” The man said turning away from her.

“Don’t worry, I wore shoes I can run in, I’m well used to dogs being released on me.” Kaleyanna said a small bit of self-hating humor in her tone.

The man paused briefly before continuing on. It took a few minutes before he returned.

“This way, he says you have five minutes from when you enter.” The man said as they walked quickly.

She nodded.

“That’s longer then I thought I’d get.” She responded.

He didn’t reply just pushed open the door.

“Smithers! Who is this?” asked the hunched back form sitting at the desk.

The newly identified Smithers took a breath.

“Kaleyanna sir, the one who is here to share details of an old acquaintance of yours.” Smithers said watching him.

Kaleyanna's face softened seeing the love in Smithers eyes.

“Right, Right. You’ve got five minutes, wow me.” Mr. Burns said sitting up.

Kaleyanna stepped closer placing an old dated picture in front of him.

“I believe you knew her as Celeste and then Galaxy. But that is my Grandmother, Marianna King. Years and years ago she used to dance in clubs, back when that was still a new thing.” Kaleyanna began.

Mr. Burns held the picture delicately in his hands, his face softened slightly at the image.

“Yes, I remember her. It was many years ago.” Mr. Burns said voice soft.

Kaleyanna nodded, not looking away from him to see his reaction, but she still noticed Smithers standing faithfully next to him.

“Yes, well this story is a bit long and winding, so I apologize if it takes a little longer than expected. Anyways, my grandmother only danced in one club, and she had nightly conversations with a charming dark-haired man who she never got the name of.” Kaleyanna said voice soft.

Burns nodded.

“I only knew her as Celeste back then, names weren’t important.” He said filling in a small gap.

Kaleyanna took a breath.

“One night, things went beyond conversation and they shared a passionate night together. Unknowingly that night they created a child, a boy she named Morty.” Kaleyanna paused briefly to set down another old photo along with a copy of a birth certificate.

Burns picked each up to look it over, before returning his attention to her, hand resting gently on the photo of Marianna.

“I fail to see what any of this has to do with me.” He said face turning hard.

Kaleyanna nodded.

“DNA testing wasn’t a thing back then. So, my grandmother not knowing the name of her son’s father, couldn’t do anything about it. She stopped dancing for a few years but when her son turned five, she had no choice but to go back to it. At a different club with a different look and name. Once again, the same man found her but didn’t seem to recognize her, and she never worked up the courage to tell him about their son. After a few months, the two started secretly seeing each other, and once her son turned 25, she thought all was clear. The man and my grandmother spent one more night together, as he was leaving in the morning. And unknowingly created yet another child. Her name was Corina, and she was my mother.” Kaleyanna said setting down a few more documents and photos.

Mr. Burns picked up each one looking it over, allowing Smithers to look as well.

“I still don’t understand, why you’re telling me all of this.” Burns said but his face was slightly more open.

Kaleyanna sighed and nodded pulling three pages out of one of the files.

“When DNA testing was new my grandmother had both my mother and uncle tested just to confirm her suspicions. Then she locked away the findings, hid them deep in a safe. They were written into her will when she passed about ten years ago.” She said laying down the oldest document.

Burns picked it up, and read over it as Smithers looked at her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said voice soft and gentle.

She smiled gently and nodded in thanks.

“We weren’t very close, but it was still rough.” Kaleyanna said by way of return.

Burns sat the paper down.

“How do I know this isn’t falsified?” he asked, face twisting slightly.

Kaleyanna pointed to the stamp.

“That’s the original notary stamp. I have copies for my personal files but I brought the originals for you.” She explained.

Burns nodded and waved for her to continue.

“When my grandmother passed, mother refused to allow me at the will reading, I believe she feared my grandmother would be harsh and wouldn’t leave anything to me although I cannot be certain. I did get a small monetary inheritance from her and a small house in the end. However, I didn’t know about that until recently. My mother died about 5 years ago in a horrible traffic accident, a drunk driver ran her off the road.” Kaleyanna said and laid out the newspaper article, and a copy of her grandmother’s will.

Burns picked up the will and scanned over it before reading the newspaper article.

“My condolences.” He said simply.

Kaleyanna nodded and turned back to her files.

“My uncle never cared who his father was so he never had a second DNA test done, my mother did although I only gained access to the records after receiving a court order to allow me to have the records. My father had me blocked from my mother’s will. My father believed he was doing the right thing, as my mother would have only listed him and I since her brother was already, and still is, in a nursing home, according to the doctors he’s only got a few years left, old age and all. However, my father, 3 years ago succumbed to his depression after my mother died and, he killed himself. Leaving me to take care of my younger sister, Christy.” Kaleyanna said pulling out the second DNA test the nursing home patient record and the news article about her father along with both of their Will’s.

Burns read through them all as Smithers looked at her.

“You still have a few more pages there.” He said drawing Burns eye.

Kaleyanna nodded and opened the last file.

“That’s right, this sad tale of tragedy and loss continues. I was the 5th child of 7 my sister Christy being the 7th and youngest of us all. However, three of my siblings died as children from various things and 2 were either stillborn or miscarried. My little sister is currently attending Yale Law and despite all of the tragedy is pulling a 4.0 GPA. I did do another DNA test as well, perhaps I was beating a dead horse as the saying goes but I wanted to be absolutely certain before I approached you and technology is always getting better. The last line of this tale so far is me telling you that myself and Christy are your granddaughters, and we don’t want anything other than for you to know of our existence.” Kaleyanna finished and handed him the last few pages, detailing her siblings passing and Christy’s success, along with the third and final DNA report.

Burns read over them all before sitting up straight and looking at her.

“You understand my…. hesitance on this.” He said watching her.

Kaleyanna nodded.

“Of course, I do. You’ve got every right to be cautious. You’ve got a lot to protect, but I promise everything I’ve told you Is the truth as I know it to be. And we don’t want anything from you, just letting you know of us.” Kaleyanna said as the papers where shuffled back into the files and left on the desk.

Burns steepled his fingers in thought before turning to Smithers.

“Escort her out. I need a few days to think this over.” Burns said as he pulled the files closer again.

Smithers nodded, moving away from him.

“Of course, sir, this way.” He said turning to her.

Kaleyanna nodded and moved to walk with him. They reached the front door and before he opened it, she placed a hand on his arm, pulling a sheet of paper from her bag she quickly wrote down her number and address, handing it to him.

“In case he wishes to contact me. Or you, as well could. Not many people like him, but spending those few minutes with the two of you, I see how much you both care for each other. Keep caring for him, I feel hardly anyone has in a long time.” Kaleyanna said softly.

Smithers looked at the paper before looking back at her.

“I’ll always care for him, even though he doesn’t seem to feel the same.” Smithers said sadly.

“Don’t forget, acceptance is still something new, and he’s from an older time period. A time when it was easier to lay with the opposite of what you truly wanted. Don’t count him out yet, let him realize his love for you in his own time, besides I can see it in the way he moves.” Kaleyanna said softly.

Smithers watched her.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” Smithers said not really in question.

Kaleyanna sighed softly and nodded.

“My sexuality is still being erased and denied even in the community.” Kaleyanna said voice soft.

Smithers looked at her for a few seconds.

“That’s not right.” He said voice distant.

She nodded.

“That’s the life of a Pansexual though.” She said shrugging.

She looked at her watch and sighed again.

“I’ve kept you to long, I should go. It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Smithers.” She said as she walked out of the house.

Smithers caught her arm and passed a card into it.

“It’s Waylon. And it was nice to meet you too.” He said before closing the door.

She walked to her car and climbed in before looking at the card. On one side was Mr. Burns information and on the other was Waylon’s. She smiled softly and started the car. She drove away from the mansion, with a deep sigh escaping her.

‘Now just to see how it all goes.’ She thought passingly, knowing she had left the biggest secret of all out of her conversation.

After a few minutes she pulled up in her driveway, seeing the other car gone she breathed a sigh of relief and climbed from the car. She walked inside and moved to the kitchen where she began on dinner.

*Two weeks later*

“STOP DESMOND! LEAVE THEM ALONE THEY DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” the loud frantic voice was heard from outside.

“Smithers, you’d best go see what that is.” Mr. Burns said from the limo.

Waylon Smithers nodded before climbing out and walking to the door where he knocked. The crashing and banging stopped immediately.

“And who the hell is that!” a loud angry voice shouted.

“I... I don’t know, Desmond, let the children go answer it. Please just let them go.” A soft voice said carefully.

A sharp sound was heard followed by a thud and a small scream.

“P-please, Desmond.” The voice came back weaker again.

Smithers raised his hand to knock again.

“Fine! Go you little turds.” The angry voice came again.

Rushed footsteps where heard and the door opened a crack to show a small girl holding a baby and a boy next to her.

“H-hello?” the little girl asked, as a loud slap was heard.

Smithers looked at the children before pushing the door open more, gasping at the sight he saw.

“RUN KIDS!” the desperate voice came screaming from the kitchen.

The two children jumped and went to bolt out of the door, Waylon reached down and grabbed the children carefully.

“Come with me.” He said leading them to the limo.

Once there he helped each child into the back, where Monty Burns sat.

“What is the meaning of this, Smithers?” Burns asked him.

Waylon gave him a look and turned to the second door on the limo, opening it he let out several large dogs.

“Get them!” Waylon called stalking after the dogs.

Monty watched them before turning to the children who watched him fearfully. He looked between them before realizing what was going on. He took the baby from the girl and passed both of the older children Kleenex.

“it’ll be alright children.” Monty said turning to look at the house worry filling his face.

*Inside the house*

“How dare you!” the angry voice called again as the owner reached out and struck the shaking woman on the floor.

Just then growls from the door way made the other person pause.

“And who the hell are you!” the attacker said standing up straight.

“W-Waylon?” came the soft worn voice.

The purple bowtie clad man nodded.

“That’s correct. I am Waylon Smithers and I am your worst nightmare.” He said adjusting his glasses.

The tall grouchy person stood up, fists clenched and took a menacing step forward.

“You and what army, Nerd.” Came the angry hissed tone.

Waylon smiled at that and let out a sharp whistle.

“The dogs. GO GET THEM!” Waylon called as the dogs chased the large imposing figure.

Waylon walked over to the woman, where he crouched to help her up.

“Come then Kaleyanna, let’s get you up and out of here.” Waylon said as he helped her up.

Kaleyanna nodded and leaned heavily against the man as he helped her to the limo. Waylon carefully helped her slide into the backseat across from Monty.

“Mommy!” the little boy said and wrapped his arms around her.

The little girl was quick to follow. Kaleyanna pressed kisses to each of their heads before looking up at Monty, who still held her youngest.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

Monty rose a hand and shook his head.

“You are family.” He said quietly.

She nodded and looked to her children.

“In that case, I’d like you to officially meet your great grandchildren. This is Tori and this is Shane and you hold Cameron.” Kaleyanna said smiling at him.

Monty looked at them all and offered a small smile.

“Let’s go home, Waylon.” Monty said with a soft smile.

“Right away.” Waylon agreed getting into the driver’s seat.

It took a few minutes before they arrived at the mansion. Waylon parked the limo before coming to the back and helping Monty out.

“Sir, perhaps you should give young Cameron back to Kaleyanna.” Smithers suggested when Monty stumbled lightly.

Burns shot him a look before sighing and carefully passing the baby to Kaleyanna. Kaleyanna smiled gently and leaned against the limo as Tori and Shane climbed out carefully.

“Welcome home.” Monty said raising his hands to show the mansion.

The kids gasped and looked around; Kaley carefully reached a hand down to rest on Tori’s shoulder. The young girl looked up at her, and Kaleyanna passed her Cameron, as she swayed. Smithers rushed to her side.

“Let’s get you inside and have the doctors come take a look at the 4 of you.” Waylon said helping her up the steps.

Kaleyanna nodded and watched as the kids and Monty walked ahead of them. After a few moments they settled into a nice sitting room.

“Kids behave ok?” Kaleyanna called voice soft.

Tori and Shane nodded settling onto the carpet and looking around in wonder. Monty gave off a gentle version of his evil laugh.

“They’re children, let them play. Go on, explore! Have fun!” Monty said shooing the children, carefully taking Cameron from Tori.

Both children looked towards Kaleyanna, she smiled gently.

“Alright, just be careful.” Kaleyanna nodded.

The kids stood and raced off. Waylon reentered the living room, looking around before his eyes settled softly on Monty.

“The doctor should arrive in half an hour.” Waylon said.

Monty nodded and slid to the side, leaving room on the couch beside him.

“Excellent, come have a seat.” He said quietly as he marveled over Cameron.

Waylon moved to sit beside Monty and looked over Cameron with him. Kaleyanna smiled softly at the obvious devotion they each held for the other, she allowed her eyes to slip closed knowing her children were completely safe for once.

“Kaleyanna?” A voice called to her a while later.

She blinked open blurry eyes and looked up at the face of Monty.

“Yes?” she asked sitting up a bit.

Monty backed a few steps revealing a doctor waiting patiently.

“We would have let you sleep longer but the doctor is here and your health is more important currently.” Waylon said from beside her.

She nodded and adjusted.

“Of course, thank you.” She said moving to stand.

Her and the doctor moved to a different room, so he could look over her wounds.

“I don’t know how you did it, but that’s the nicest I’ve seen Burns ever.” The doctor said a while later while wrapping her injuries.

She smiled gently and shook her head.

“Have you checked the children?” she asked instead of answering not willing to risk Monty’s reputation.

The doctor sat back and nodded putting his supplies away.

“Yes, and all three are fine, nervous but fine.” He said moving to stand.

Kaleyanna nodded and stood as well, still feeling a bit tired but feeling better overall. The two of them walked back to the living room to see Waylon sitting on the floor playing Malibu Stacy with Tori while Shane sat on the couch with a few comic books, Cameron safely held within Monty’s arms. When they entered Monty stood and passed Cameron to Kaleyanna, who smiled gently and pressed a kissed to the top of the baby’s head.

“What’s the verdict, doctor?” Burns asked looking at him.

The doctor laughed a bit and shook his head.

“A few scrapes and bruises along with a minor sprain in the wrist. The children are just fine, a little skittish I’ve seen but alright.” The doctor replied, handing Burns a piece of paper.

Monty looked over it and nodded.

“Yes, yes anything to make sure my family is as healthy as they can be. You’ll be paid, extra to keep your mouth shut. Now leave.” Monty said turning his back to the doctor, moving to sit beside Shane.

Kaleyanna settled down in a chair and watched over her family, seeing Waylon with Tori made her smile softly. Her eyes shifted and she smiled as she saw Monty helping Shane to read over the comic books, her eyes slid down and she saw Cameron sleeping happily in her arms. She let out a soft sigh and let her eyes close again, letting the peaceful happiness of her family wash over her.

*6 months later*

“Tori! Shane! Your lunches! Have a good day at school I love you both!” Kaleyanna yelped as she raced around helping the kids get ready.

She held Cameron close as she handed the other two their lunches and pressed kisses to their foreheads.

“Bye mom! Bye Momma!” they called running out of the house and towards the bus pickup.

She closed the door and sighed softly. Looking down at Cameron, she smiled gently.

“Now time to feed you my little man.” She smiled as she tickled him lightly.

She walked into the kitchen, seeing Monty still sat and eating. She placed Cameron in the highchair.

“Good morning, Grandfather.” She said wrapping a hug around him as she moved passed.

He reached up and patted her arms.

“Good morning, my dear. Another rushed start today?” he asked looking at her as she prepared a small plate for Cameron.

Kaleyanna laughed and nodded as she took the plate and her coffee to a chair by Cameron.

“Yes well, you know children. Always five more minutes.” She said as she fed Cameron.

Monty watched her for a few seconds.

“You know I could help you out and hire a nanny.” Monty suggested and not for the first time.

Waylon walked in and took a seat beside Monty, who slid the cup of coffee closer to him unconsciously. Kaleyanna shook her head.

“Oh grandfather, I don’t need a nanny. Ten minutes of hectic rushing around with the kids in the morning is the best way for me to wake up.” Kaleyanna said with a smile.

Monty nodded as he slyly slid another scone onto Waylon’s plate. She smiled softly at his actions.

“So, any plans for today?” Waylon asked sending a small smile towards Monty.

Kaleyanna smiled at them.

‘One day they’ll stop dancing around each other.’ Kaleyanna said smiling softly.

She shook her head, looking at them.

“Not today, just spending time with Cameron, maybe reading a few books or working on my degree. I may call and see how Christy is doing. How about you two? Going to the Nuclear power plant?” Kaleyanna said smiling.

Monty nodded his face darkening momentarily.

“Yes, we have a few meetings with some of the staff and a few heads of other power plants. Should prove to be a busy day.” Waylon surmised.

Kaley smiled and played with her coffee cup a bit.

“What is it? You act like you have a question.” Monty said drawing attention to her.

Kaleyanna shrugged and looked up.

“Well you mainly spend your days dealing with disgruntled staff, and trying to figure out how to deal with issues in regards to the crew. Why don’t you have someone to handle that kind of thing for you?” She asked.

Waylon looked from her to Monty and back. While Monty sat back, thinking it over.

“Except that would cost me money and require a new position, with a new salary.” Monty countered.

Kaleyanna leaned forward and nodded.

“True, however if you created the position you could probably find someone to take the position for less than what would normally be acceptable. Just find someone qualified who’s new to the business, and needs a quick job. It’ll be years before they actively ask for any kind of raise and at that point 10 years down the line you could give them a 10 percent raise and it would maybe amount to another dollar at most.” Kaleyanna said tossing a full plan out onto the table.

Monty sat back and steepled his fingers looking at her.

“You make a compelling argument.” He said before standing up and walking from the room.

Waylon watched after him with a surprised look on his face.

“Wow, that’s the first time he’s listened about a new position in years.” He said turning to her.

Kaleyanna smirked and sat back a bit.

“I may not have a mean streak but I am still related to him. Meaning I have his cunning. It also doesn’t hurt my degree is in Psychology and Business, so I have a way with words when it comes to salaries and the like.” Kaleyanna said sipping her coffee.

Waylon looked at her and laughed shaking his head.

“You two are more alike than either of you believe.” Waylon said moving to stand as well.

Kaleyanna nodded and turned to Cameron.

“Not a bad thing at all.” She mused lightly.

*8 years later*

“Tori! Shane! Cameron! Your lunches!” Kaleyanna called as she raced to grab the bags from the kitchen.

She looked around frantically when they weren’t where she left then.

“Relax Kaleyanna, we have them.” Waylon said as he and Monty stood up with the bags.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Each of them held a bag and moved to the front door, a routine well established over the last few years. Each child ran into the room, grabbing a lunch and hugging and kissing their mother and great grandfather’s.

“Bye mom, bye Grandpa’s! Bye, bye mom, see you later Grandpa’s! Later mom, see you Grandpa’s!” the three kids called running out.

The three adults laughed slightly before moving back into the kitchen, and settled down with their coffee.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Monty asked looking at them.

Kaleyanna groaned and pulled her planner to her.

“I have several meetings with Plant staff, including…three with one Homer Simpson of 7G. Why he wants three meetings I have no idea. I think he just wants the donuts in my office.” Kaleyanna said.

Waylon nodded pulling out his own organizer.

“I have no doubt that is the only reason, as for us. We have meetings with several other plant owners and foreign dignitaries in regards to the plant, and then several personal meetings.” Waylon said looking up.

Monty nodded.

“Well it seems all of us will have a long day. What of the children?” He asked.

Kaleyanna smiled.

“All taken care of. Tori has gymnastics with Kira and Kim, and Shane is going over to Dustin and Blake’s to ride bikes and Cameron is going to spend time with Bart and Millhouse. I hope those two don’t corrupt my little Cameron.” Kaleyanna said looking up for a while.

Waylon and Monty nodded in agreement with that. After a few more minutes, the three headed outside and climbed into the limo, heading towards the plant.

[reapers-carino]

Beauty in Simplicity ver. 2

“Itadakimasu!”

Genji’s tone was jovial, the excited grin on his face and sparkling eyes set on the large bowl of shoyu ramen in front of him. Giving a small ‘whoop’ of excitement as he pulled his chopsticks apart, he gave a quick, sympathetic glance to his older brother. Hanzo’s brow was furrowed, staring into his bowl of shio ramen with such a contemptuous look, Genji tempted to ask how the meal had offended him. Reluctantly, Hanzo finally picked up his own set of chopsticks, brusquely snapping them apart before murmuring a soft ‘itadakimasu’ and beginning to eat. Genji waited til he was a few bites in before goading him.

“Sooo…?”

Hanzo’s eyes cut towards him, his frown somehow deepening as he bit into the chashu, a brief uptick in the corners of his lips indicating that the food was chipping away at the annoyance. Now was as good a time as any to keep prying; Hanzo’s love of good food had always been the younger brother’s way of cheering his brother up, alcohol coming in as a close second. As Hanzo’s eyes drifted back to the bowl, he grunted as Genji nudged him, wearily turning his gaze towards his younger sibling. Genji had taken several bites out of the tender pork belly from his own bowl and held it up so it looked like a goofy pork-based smile, wriggling his eyebrows at his brother playfully. Hanzo couldn’t help the choked off snort he made, the ridiculousness of the image drawing a small half smile onto his lips as he placed his chopsticks down on the tiny stand beside his bowl. Releasing a low growling sigh, Hanzo knew that Genji would not cease in his attempts to cheer him up until he finally spilled the beans on what was wrong. 

“Let’s finish our meal and then we can talk”, he sighed, picking up his chopsticks once more and beginning to scarf down the noodles. 

Hanzo couldn’t deny the delicious saltiness of the broth and the chewiness of the noodles were having an effect on him, slowly pulling him out of his dour mood and gently nudging him towards simply being cross. As he drank the last of the broth and bits of bean sprouts and garlic down, Hanzo allowed the warmth to spread throughout his body, breathing in deep and letting out a quiet exasperated sigh. Glancing to the side, his brother had drained both his broth and the sickeningly sweet melon soda he chose to go with it, looking at his brother looking at him with expectant puppy dog eyes. Tapping down on the urge to chuckle, Hanzo gave an over exaggerated sigh as he began his story.

“I had a meeting with the board this morning…”

Genji gave a brief suck of his teeth, a scowl tugging at his lips briefly before his smile returned, smaller and sympathetic. Neither one of them were strangers to the board, better known to them as the elders, the near omnipresent, insufferable hivemind of the Shimada-gumi. Gently patting his older brother on the shoulder, he gave it a brief good natured squeeze before responding.

“So how did that go?”

Earlier that day

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”

Hanzo’s voice was warm, yet professional, the light of the holoscreen gently bouncing off of his skin in the dimmed room. His expression was neutral but not blank, the ghost of a simpering smile tugging at the corners of his lips but never rising into a true one. Shoulders back, posture straight but not stiff, his whiskey brown eyes giving the room a brief once over before continuing. Fake pleasantries and niceties were expected of anyone coming before the board and he was no different, even as the heir to the Shimada Conglomerate. Although, Hanzo wished he could have expected the same from the board. He could see several of the elders at the table flicking through the information transmitted to each of their datapads as they had entered the room, some actually reading the inscribed text while others stared at him, wrinkled faces set in a permanent frown. Years of training, school work and private lessons had led to this moment and he wasn’t going to let their lingering doubts of him deter him from victory. 

Motioning at the screen, the beginning of his proposal popped up, simply titled ‘Partnership Program between Shimada Conglomerate and Caledonia, Co’. He heard the start of agitated murmurs begin around the table before motioning towards the screen once more and going to the next slide. It held images of both the Shimada Conglomerate’s main building in the heart of Hanamura and the shining new Ashe, Inc building located in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The next motion he made zoomed in on the section for Ashe, Inc. as he began to go through the history and details of the company.

“Caledonia Co. was started five years ago and is a subsidiary of the larger Ashe Inc. located in Sante Fe”, Hanzo said simply, watching as the facts illuminated on the screen before disappearing and being replaced with information from the company’s annual financial report. “They are currently the quickest growing modular home providers within the American southwest with projected earnings for the year predicted to be just under one billion dollars. There also have been whispers of the company securing a US federal contract with the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development to create homes for those still impacted by the Omnic Crisis.”

Pausing briefly, Hanzo glanced over the crowd, a small root of uneasiness swiping at his heart as not one board member looked the least bit intrigued by the company. Still, Hanzo refused to succumb to this adversity, flicking to the next screen with bulleted and referential lines about the benefit of partnering with the North American company. 

“The Shimada modular manufacturing subsidiary, Sparrow is both well-known and highly respected within the Japanese market”, Hanzo started, showing the earnings for the company in the last three years before swiping and overlapping that with predicted earnings that could happen if they expanded into other markets. “But we are lacking any power in markets outside of Eastern Asia, meaning we are not realizing Sparrow’s full potential. It is estimated that despite our current hold on the market we may begin to experience 2 to 3 percent profit declines regularly over the next decade due to field competitors and possible housing declines.”

“We do have the opportunity to turn that around”, Hanzo stated as he again showed prospective growth if they partnered up, the charts morphing to show off his estimations. “By supplying the North American company with our modular manufactured materials, we have the potential to grow both companies profits as well as have an established name in North America backing the growth of the Sparrow company into that region.”

The loss of profit statement had earned him a scoff or two, the older members stubbornly believing that the Shimada’s hold on the Japanese market was impervious to competition or outside influence. It had been the Shimada-gumi that had led the underground into helping Japan in its most dire hour during the war; providing housing, clothing, medicine, food and non-perishables as well as shelter across for their countrymen. Hanzo��s father and grandfather had spearheaded those projects almost twenty years ago, transforming the Shimada-gumi from small Yakuza-run businesses into the conglomerate powerhouse with hands in almost all facets of modern society. When the god program was eventually pushed back under sea, the Shimada’s and their supporters and allies were the one that rebuilt Japan and in turn had earned the idolatry of their countrymen. The Shimada name was looked at with adoration and reverence, the name conjuring up images of Japanese resilience and charity in the face of animosity. 

And while all that was true, they forgot that a new generation of consumers was being born, ones that were not as indebted to the Shimada name as the prior generation. People born on the cusp of the war did grow up hearing of all of their good deeds, but their attentions were fickle and easily wavered to newer, bigger things. While they would have a market to sail on for some time, it was not enough to maintain the current state of affairs and so Hanzo would try and better them. Even if it meant further catering to their more immoral heartstrings. 

“Caledonia is also the largest black market weapon supplier in the entirety of North America”, he stated pointedly, pressing another button to fully lock down any possible leaks in the room. “Caledonia is headed by Elizabeth Ashe, daughter of the heads of Ashe, Inc. Although expunged and sealed, my sources were able to find that she had a record of gang activity that was previously connected to the Deadlock Gang. It appears her tenure with the gang never ended and she instead looked for clearer avenues in which to support and conduct business.”

 The surprised looks and murmurs that rippled through the room almost made Hanzo smile for real, the man relishing the ball of pride that fluttered in his chest as he went through the rest of the presentation showing the profits that could grow for both their legitimate and illegitimate markets. The final page was marked with a simple question mark, the lights in the room coming up as he looked over the faces of the elders before finally landing on his father’s. Sojiro was the expert at guarding his true emotions, his eyes locking with his son before snapping down to the datapad that was used for each board meeting. Encrypted and only accessible through both fingerprint and retinal scanning, a security measure that ensured if any information got out, it would have to have come from within. 

“If you would like a more detailed breakdown”, he began, reaching at the front of the long boardroom table and pulling up his own datapad. “Please take a look through these pages. I am happy to answer any questions.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Hanzo’s hands tightened around his datapad, lips ticking downward ever so slightly as his eyes pulled to Shoto Yamamoto. He was a portly balding older man seated near his father, his official title being Shimada’s general counsel. Unofficially, he was one of the saiko-komon of the Shimada-gumi, his father’s most trusted advisor and provider of counsel to the entire clan. The Yamamoto family’s allegiance went all the way back to the start of the 20th century, the two families intertwined by blood spilt and fraternity. With the exception of his father, Yamamoto held the biggest sway over the counsel and what they approved or rejected. One by one, Hanzo watched as the members turned their datapad’s off, eyes glancing at Hanzo before sliding back to Yamamoto. 

“The board appreciates the time you took to present this”, Yamamoto began, the condescending intonation on ‘appreciates’ making the back of Hanzo neck burn with annoyance. “But the Shimada Conglomerate doesn’t need foreigners interfering with their affairs. Quite frankly, it’s disheartening to think your confidence, not only in the company, but also in our loyal consumers and stockholders, is so low.”

“My confidence in the company has never waivered”, Hanzo snipped back, tone tight as he placed the datapad down. Yamamoto had swiped at the lowest hanging fruit; doubt for the company, and by extension the clan, was an offense that could be punishable by death or expulsion. The accusation was weak, at best, but it shined an ambivalent light on Hanzo’s intention with the project. “My family toiled for generations to build this business into the pinnacle that it is today. I do not want to see it diminish due to the inability to adapt. The risk we face if we do not acclimate to changing times is much higher than the loss we would suffer if we do not. As I stated, the numbers--”

“And as I said we do not need any interference from some ridiculous American company”, Yamamoto snipped before leaning as far forward as his stomach would allow. He steepled his fingers briefly as he looked around at other heads of the family, inclining his head as he looked at Sojiro. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that while...ambitious, your presentation was wholly unnecessary. When and if we begin to lose profits, we will handle it as we always have. Internally. Is there anyone that objects to this?”

Hanzo listened to the murmurs that rose up from other members, eyes darting over to the future CEO nervously before looking back to Sojiro and then Yamamoto. It felt clear who they felt they were loyal to, his allegiance, ideas and future position not yet strong enough to sway those who sat on the fence to his side. Hanzo’s lips pursed together tightly, the entire back of his neck flushing in anger. Hanzo intended for this project to be his magnum opus, an idea that would show that he was not only deserving but ready to take over the role of CEO when his father finally abdicated the position.  

Hanzo had worked tirelessly to prove that he was the heir the company deserved. He had gained his Masters in Business Administration by the time he was twenty-three, but the young scion had been interning and shadowing his father since the young age of sixteen. His father had made sure he had experienced every aspect of working for the conglomerate;  Hanzo shadowing mail clerks, administrative assistance, accountants, marketing assistants and even human resources. All this while still maintaining his grades in school, practicing several sports and martial arts with his brother and taking care of any jobs  that the clan required. This wasn’t the first time that he had come to them with proposals; his partnership with several of the nation’s biggest trade schools providing their prefabrication and metal fabrication warehouses with a constant stream of skilled workers. It would seem, however, that he still had not earned the respect that he was owed.

Taking in a slow breath, Hanzo gave a short, stiff bow as members of the board began to stand, the dozen men filtering out of the room slowly. Some stopped and gave Hanzo an apologetic pat on the shoulders, others shaking their head in unspoken disappointment.  The chagrin he felt was sickening; head racing as he tried to figure out a way to amend his blunder, to find the mistake or shortfalling he had made so he could correct it. Failure was not an option. He had worked too hard, done too much. His stomach tightened into a ball, the creep of anxiousness in his chest slowly squeezing at his lungs as he drew in a shuddering breath.  His eyes narrowed on the black marble floors, the swirling white in them blurring then vaguely coming back into focus.

“Hanzo.”

Hanzo’s eyes darted from the floor to his father, the breath caught in his throat coming out as a half-cough. Sojiro’s brow was minutely pinched, the concern he held for his son barely contained by the professionalism his position required. Standing straighter, Sojiro approached his son, gently placing a hand on his shoulder before motioning towards the door, clearly meaning to escort his son back to his office. A ghost of a smile touched Hanzo’s lips as he nodded, gathering his materials before starting towards the door, his father following close behind. 

Sojiro had grown softer in his older years, his wife’s brush with death completely transforming him into a man that actually cared about his sons’ well-beings and not just the future they could provide. Yua Shimada had been a safe space for both of the Shimada sons’, each finding brief reprieve in her presence before they were thrown back into training or schooling or dueling. She emphasized how she cared for their mental well-being first and foremost, that she would love them despite what they did for the clan. Often Genji took advantage of this unwavering love, hiding behind their mother when punishment was to be enforced, Hanzo not wanting to burden his mother with any wrath incurred from his father, trainers or tutors. Hanzo often took the brunt of the anger for not ‘keeping his brother in line’, their younger years filled with quiet resentment and constant bickering. 

It took their mother falling ill and entering the hospital during Hanzo Masters program for the family to mend, the men of the family rushing to be at Yua’s side as she was diagnosed with stage two COPD. Her lung function had fallen to 60 percent, a respiratory infection combined with years of smoking leaving her lungs extremely vulnerable. While they wasted no expense in her care, the situation remained extremely precarious for an entire month, both Hanzo, Genji and their father all taking a leave of absence from school and employment so that they could be at her side. Each night when they left their mother’s side, Hanzo and Genji would seek one another's company; drinking, dueling, gaming, anything to get their minds off of her frail body laying in that bed. Their father would even occasionally join them, silent and watching but with no malice in his gaze. Reconciliation was slow but solidified the healthier Yua got, the trials of almost losing their matriarch creating a strong bond amongst them all. 

“So Hanzo…”

Hanzo gave a small sigh as he came to a stop, his father taking a few more steps before turning to look at his son. Sojiro’s dark eyes were calm yet prying as he looked his son over, gently rubbing at his goatee as he studied the boy, Hanzo suddenly feeling like he was under a magnifying glass. Clearing his throat, Sojiro tilted his head towards the datapad that Hanzo held in his hand, Hanzo glancing downward before his brow furrowed as he looked up.

“What do you plan to do with that proposition of yours?”

Hanzo blinked once then twice before his incredulity wrinkled his brow even more, shaking his head and staring at his father in confusion. 

“What do you mean”, Hanzo inquired, tone bordering exasperation and his eyes bore into his father’s. “The board has rejected it, there is nothing I can do.”

“Disappointing”, Sojiro sighed as he turned on his heel and began his walk back towards the offices. “I expected more from you…”

In The Present

Hanzo’s face burned with quiet shame, staring down hard at the black iced coffee Genji had ordered for him as he divulged the tale, the same uneasiness at failure creeping into his stomach. 

“Well”, Genji questioned, stretching out the word and looking at his brother excitedly, the younger Shimada practically bouncing in his seat.

“Well what”, Hanzo asked, brow furrowing deeper as his brother looked at him with wide, enthusiastic eyes. “The board shot down all my plans and father is disappointed in me, what else is there?”

The words left an acrid taste in his mouth, lips ticking down even more as Genji rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. 

“For someone so smart you can be so blind”, Genji sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Hanzo glared at him. He was unsure if his brother was trying to earn his ire but if he was, he was doing a good job at it. Forcing Hanzo to turn and look him directly in the eyes, Genji’s gaze grew slightly serious. “Didn’t you get what father was trying to tell you? Do it anyway! Fuck what the board says!”

Hanzo’s jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing several times before he found the words, confusion and disbelief fighting in equal measure.

“What do you mean fuck the board”, Hanzo hissed out, hands closing then opening as if they held the words themselves. “I can’t just dismiss what the board says. And how?! You expect me to just ignore the elders like y--”

Hanzo bit back his words but Genji rolled his eyes as he stared down his older sibling. 

“Like me”, Genji finished for him, cutting Hanzo off before he could interfect or apologize. “Actually yeah, stop letting them make every single decision for you, aniki! Aht aht, don’t interrupt! Brother, you always followed what the elders said but has any of that ever made you the least bit happy?”

“Well…”

“That’s not a yes Hanzo”, Genji muttered deadpan before releasing his brother. “Think of this like Go, Han. Go has fortresses and if you play smart, what seems like an impenetrable fortress can easily be flipped or wiped out. If you do this brother and plan it out and succeed? They won’t have any choice BUT to listen to you.”

Hanzo mulled over this for several pregnant moments, lips pursed together as his mind raced over the audacious idea, warmth beginning to bloom in his chest as excitement trickled in. He may be able to pull this off. He would have no team or project manager, he wouldn’t be able to rely on the marketing department to make materials nor assistance to work alongside him. But if he took his time, he knew he could pull this off. Fate had been on Hanzo’s side when his father had him trained in every single aspect of the business, the man no expert but far from a greenhorn if the situation demanded it. If he could not only put together a business plan but also convince Ashe to meet with him in Japan, he could taste the sweet sweet flavor of not only success but he could begin to refute and rebuke the elders when the changes brought in profit. The only thing wrong…

“As much as I would like that”, Hanzo began, his Genji’s eyes growing suspicious on him. “I cannot. There is no place I can go where Shimada eyes do not follow.”

Hanzo’s shoulders began to hunch, his head drooping before he felt Genji began to shake him, elation and mischief tainting his tone as Genji force his brother to look up. 

“I know just the place!”

[palettepainter]

Two things regarding the youngest Higari headcanons- cause I just love to ramble I’m sorry

1) Higari wanting to apply to UA, but just being worried he won’t make it in. So he throws his application away and goes to his room. One (or all) of his siblings finding it in the trash and being like ‘oh that’s bullshit’ so they send it. Imagine Higaris surprise when he gets a letter about the date of the entrance exam.

2) All of them just going about their day, visiting their ma. Higari calls the house absolutely frantic and scared cause Ecto just had the incident that costed him his legs. He’s in critical condition and Higari just can’t be alone right now.

3) Higari will play annoyed whenever they tease him about being the baby of their family, but when he leaves for the city to go to UA he misses it. He’s very homesick and calls or texts every night cause he just needs the reassurance that they’re all ok. He will deny it, though.

AAAAAAHHH THESE ARE ALL SO CUTE!!! God this is fueling my Ectoloader heart I need to draw my boys again it's been too long! If you guys wanna throw any more ideas my way please do!

The first one is so something his sibs would do! I imagine if one of them where to find it first it'd be Taiho, he's the most level headed and is often the one cleaning up after his siblings. But when he finds it in the bin he defiantly takes it to the others - it porbable takes them a total of 20 seconds to agree to send in the application for Higari.

They're all peaking round the corner to watch as Higari picks up his letter from the postbox...and they all can't help but smile triumphantly at the little excited jump Higari does. Of course they all pretend they have no idea how Higari's application got sent, maybe Higari sent it and just forgot. Hono totally smiles but'll pretend he's not, his bro is happy so he's happy

Oh god...no poor Higari in tears at the second idea. His family are rushing to town to catch the earliest train to the city, and in that time of waiting Higari is just falling more and more into a hysterical state. He's bawling his eyes out, pacing, mumbling to himself, yanking his hair, biting his iron claws. The moment he sees his mum walk into the hospital he probably rushes to her for a hug, his other siblings quickly crowding round to make sure he's okay.

It's the worst state they've ever seen Higari in since their dad died..none of them are really sure what to do, they'd never had a family member or close friend have a serious injury like this before. They're all lost on what to say to make Higari feel better, so the best they can do is be there for him if he needs them.

I can see Higari's siblings trying to pull him away from the hospital - Ecto is recovering and Higari is hovering round him like a hawk, it's not good for him. He needs to get some sleep, some propper food and water. Higari is hesitant to leave, but after much nagging and persuading he lets his brothers and sisters pull him away to get some food and rest (Hono secretly volunteered to watch Ecto for Higari while he went to rest but shhh-)

And the last one...uugh, my heart!!-

Chikara and Hono are the masters of head noogies when it comes to their baby brother. Higari as a kid probably hated the rough housing and tough love, as he got older he get used to it but it still got on his nerves - especially when they called him little bro in public.

Then he goes to UA and...it feels weird. Having his own space, no noisy older siblings to tease him, no more head noogies, no one to call him little bro teasingly, no one to mockingly hold things out of his reech, no one dumping the extra chores on him cuz he was younger and an easy target to dumb tasks on...No more group sibling movie nights, no more chaotic yet funny family dinners, no more swimming in the lake on hot summer afternoons, no more running the car through fresh mud after a rainy day.

His siblings are also a little weirded out by the sudden change with Higari gone - it feels odd not having their quirky little brother around. Honestly they all probably debate calling him or texting him themselves, but they don't want to be overbearing - Higari was fine! He was so excited to go to UA anyhow

When they hear the phone ring they all stampede into the lounge, very VERY relieved to hear Higari's voice for the first time in two weeks. They talk for HOURS! Asking him how UA's been, if he's eating enough and getting enough sleep, if the teachers are cool, has he made any friends?

For once his siblings decide not to tease when their brother shyly admits he's feeling a little home sick, they reassure him and make it a habit to text him daily and each have a turn to call him at the end of the week

(they where all totally pacing around the home waiting for Higari when decided to come down and visit for the weekend.)

[enniewritesathing]

Rules: 1. Pick a sim of your choice  2. Tell us about them 3. Tag someone else (if you want to!)

Name: Johnathan Vincent Raulo Davidson

How old is your sim? 26, but people think he’s slightly older with his beard.

When is your sim’s birthday? May 3rd

What is your sim’s zodiac sign? Taurus Martial Status: Engaged

Does your sim have any nicknames? Jojo by his maternal grandparents/relatives (sometimes his mom in a joking matter) Johnny by Brian (and he’s the only person to gets to call him this)

Do they have a job?  John’s an auto mechanic working for the city and also a pro Muay Thai boxer.

Where does your sim live? Willow Creek Who does your sim live with? John lives with his fiance, Brian and their cat Lady Spaghetti Wednesday (Davidson).

What environment did your sims grow up in? (strict, loving, cold etc.)  John (and Jacob) were raised in a relaxed environment; Noelle was actually the ‘strict parent’ while Ian was the ‘relaxed’ (though he was a slight worrier). When Ian died, Eli (John’s uncle) stepped in and... well, it’s a wonder how John turned out well the way he did all things considered.

What are your sim’s favorite food? Anything that involves chicken. What is your sim’s favorite drink? Blue Raspberry Slush from Sonic’s. When it comes to alcohol, something with a lot of fruit like a strawberry daiquiri. If they have one what is your sim’s favorite color? If I’m going by his wardrobe color, he likes dark/bold colors.  Is your sim introverted or extroverted? John says he’s extroverted... but I think he’s more introverted. Brian is the one who deals with “people things” and often lets him doing the talking. What is your sims favorite woohoo position? He likes positions that lets him see Brian’s face in some form or fashion/get in range of some kissing. Is your sim a pet person? He is definitely a cat person. He thinks dogs are okay though; if he and Brian were to decide to adopt a dog, he’d prefer a small/medium dog and adopt an adult. Puppies are cute, sure, but after raising a kitten... lol. Does your sim have a best friend? John has some good friends, but not a ‘best’ friend per se. What is/was your sim’s favorite school subject?  History, Physics, PE (you should have seen him at Dodgeball), and Literature, though everyone just assumed that he was a jock.  Are they planning to go or have they already been to college? John graduated went to tech school for his automotive stuff (a bunch of AA’s and certs), but he’d like to go to university for Mech. Engineering. The only problem with that is he’s not much of a book nerd; he’d much rather learn doing. What are your sims political beliefs? (if they have them) Left. Does your sim have a favorite TV show: How It’s Made. Even if he’s passively watching it, he’ll eventually watch it. He finds it fascinating.  Does your sim like books? He’s known to read a book or two, but he’ll probably read something like comic books/graphic novels. Sometimes, John will read Brian’s romance novels. What is your sim’s personal style? It’s pretty masculine? I’m not sure how to really describe it but his chest is kind of out one way or another, or wears a shirt that accentuates it. Very prone to decorating his hair too. Is your sim religious? Not really/he’s agnostic, but he has some shades of Buddhism. When he was younger and things were bad, John hated everything and wanted to fight what deity/entity/etc, but then he met Brian and thought “okay, maybe things ain’t so bad”.

What kind of music does your sim listen to? Depends on his mood or what he’s doing, but he’s got a variety. He thinks Country (like Old Country) is a bit depressing when he actively listens to it. He doesn’t like the twang inflection. What is your sim’s favorite type of weather? That certain ~coolness~ that comes after a good rain/storm. Does your sim have a dream job? John’s a pro Muay Thai boxer and honestly the fact he can juggle that with his job and have stability to do so?? he’s got it. Does your sim have any siblings? He had a twin fraternal brother, Jacob, but unfortunately he died from a rare/aggressive form of brain cancer at the age of 9. Does your sim get along with their family? He gets along great with his mom’s side of the family. His dad’s side of the family, on the other hand, haven’t really spoken to them since his dad’s funeral. (And does not want to and besides, probably wouldn’t approve of him.) What is your sims favorite hobby? As a balance for fighting, John likes to do some artsy stuff. He’ll draw or paint, and has made a few sculptures and written a few things. It was sort of a key component for him when he went to therapy. He’s trying his hand at knitting. What does your sim look for in a romantic partner? To love all of him and not just the surface part of him.  What is a flaw your sim has? John can be very stubborn about certain things. He’s almost the sort of person that would repeatedly do something that yields the same exact result every time in hopes that it’ll be different. Or, when he gets sick or injured, he’ll just let his body sort it out and not take any medicine. He’s gotten better about that last part, but when he was younger? Good luck. Does your sim have a greatest achievement?  If so what is it? So far, his greatest achievement is becoming Junior World Champion when he defeated Leo de Koning (yes, that Leo, that guy!) by KO in the 4th round. The year prior to that, he lost to him in the semi finals. Cherry on top, the match fell on Jacob’s birthday, so he also fulfilled a promise.

John’s gunning for World Champion again (and maybe a Double/Triple Crown later on). If they have one, what is your sim’s greatest regret? A minor one, but it’s something Brian teases him about, but John regrets not trying to negogiate in getting the apartment with the garden tub during the college days. Rent would have been $20 more, but they couldn’t afford it.

[flightsoffandom]

The Truth

(The Sitter Part 6)

Pairs: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 1980

Summary: Aaron and the BAU start working on your case. You find out the truth about what happened but you find something else out along the way.

Warnings: Mentions of reader’s family’s death, mentions of child death, mentions of blood

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral.  Collab Series I am doing with the ever amazing @less-intelligent-spencerreid If you are interested in being tagged in the future parts of this comment on this or send me an ask.  

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6*

After the first night at Aaron’s, Penelope had offered to let you stay at her place. Derek also agreed to stay at Penelope’s as basically your bodyguard. Penelope tried really hard to make it like a sleepover. She always had fun movies to watch, junk food, and comfy blankets. So during the night, you could easily forget about your problems and worries for a few hours. It was when it was actually time for you to go to sleep that you had issues. Nothing against Derek, you hadn’t known him long but you trusted him. You just hadn’t been sleeping well at Penelope’s. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. The only time you had been able to get a decent amount of sleep with little to no nightmares was in Aaron’s office.

You woke up startled when Penelope walked into Aaron’s office. Your heart was racing as you sat up on the couch.

Penelope was talking a mile a minute holding a large stack of files in her hands, “It took some digging.” She walked over to Aaron at his desk, “Like some digging, digging. Had to partially hire the internet equivalent to a construction crew and use one of those scoopy excavator things to get through layers and layers of old murder cases from all over the country.”

You stare at the brightly colored woman who was being particularly loud. You tried to follow what Penelope was saying but she was talking so fast and your exhausted brain wasn’t letting you follow along, “What’s happening?”

Aaron was glaring at Penelope and you didn’t think it was just for her to get to the point, “Garcia!”

Penelope followed Aaron’s line of sight and landed on you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes trying to mentally catch up to what was happening.

Penelope made a face, “I am unbelievably sorry.” She didn’t give you a chance to reply before turning back to look at Aaron, “But I come bearing good…” Penelope makes an unpleasant noise, “Well not good actually, very terrible awful news but helpful.” Penelope finds the word she is looking for and continues, “I come bearing helpful news.” She gives an unsure shrug before handing the files over to Aaron.

Aaron looks over them, one by one. You tried to read his face but ever since Aaron took your case he seemed to only have two looks. Exhausted and determined, a lot of the times he was both at once. Penelope waited for some kind of reply.

Aaron got through the large stack of new files, “We need to bring these to the team.”

Penelope nodded and walked out of Aaron’s office to gather the rest of the team. Aaron grabbed the files and left as well. Leaving you behind for a moment. You wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep and you felt like you should know what was in those files. Even if you didn’t want to know was sort of despicable violence the killer stalking you was capable of. So you slide out of the office as well and slowly made your way to the meeting room, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. As soon as you made it to the doorway of the conference room, Aaron spotted you. He walked over, physically blocking you from getting into the room.

Aaron looked at you with concern in his eyes, “You don’t need to see this.”

If you shifted just right you could see around him and into the room. Letting you catch glimpses of crime scene photos and evidence bags. Aaron immediately figures out what you’re doing and shifts with you to block your line of sight.

You glare at Aaron, “I don’t really want to look at all that stuff but I need too. I can help.”

A few of the other team members walk past the two of you, Aaron moving to only let them through. The minor standoff earning you side glances from passersby.

Aaron shakes his head, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to both comfort you and keep you from moving into the room, “I’ll keep you updated and ask you questions when we need more information. For now, you should rest.”

You move just enough to see what is happening in the meeting. Seeing the team pull evidence bags out of boxes. When you see a pair of picture frames you are immediately stunned. No longer able to hear anything even if Aaron was still talking to you. Drawn to the objects you step backward out of Aaron’s grasp and then push your way passed him. Slowly approaching the table you could feel eyes on you but you didn’t care. When you get to the table you pick up the two separate evidence bags.

The bags were both filled with a picture frame. Each photo showing two ‘lasts’. One was the last family photo you ever took with, Mom, Dad, Sammy, and yourself. It had been one of those yearly family photos. Some cheesy fake background with tacky matching outfits but each of you had big genuine smiles on your faces. The happy atmosphere of the photo was ruined by the broken glass that had allowed blood to seep through and stain the paper. The other picture was just as badly damaged. It had been the last picture taken of just you and Sammy. You had been pushing Sammy on the swings and your parents had managed to catch it on film. What should have been a good memory was now stained just like the other one. The rusty-red color of dried blood ruining some of the few good memories you had left of your family.

You finally started to gain some awareness again. You placed both bags onto the table before retreating back. Exiting the meeting room just as quickly as you had entered it. You had thought you were ready to look back at this evidence and even thought you could emotionally handle it. Seeing those pictures again however had proved you wrong. You make it back into Aaron’s office before you start crying. Seeing those happy memories with your family ruined by the same thing that had taken them away from you forever was too much. You had no idea what happened to the dozens of family photos that must have been in the house. The year after their murder was a blur and when you had finally came too you had just written off ever having a picture to remember them by. You cover your face with your hands before letting yourself fall back onto the couch. Letting yourself sob into the palms of your hands.

You don’t hear the door open. You feel Aaron rubbing your back and you look at him.

“You were right, I should have listened to Aaron. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize y/n, I know you just want to help.”

When you were calmed down he said, “I’m going to go help my team. We’ll catch this guy”

***

“Okay, the focus is clearly on the kids. With the vase and the birthday,” Morgan starts, thinking out loud. “I have an idea.” He said, calling Garcia in her office.

“You’ve reached the office of supreme genius, speak, and be dazzled.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to get me a list of kids that died on their birthdays. I need it to be between 20 and 30 years ago.”

“Unfortunately, my chocolate thunder, that is a list of 27.”

“Cross it with kids that have an older brother that is still living. Also, look for suspicious hospital visits for both kids before the death.”

“One! Max Davis died on their birthday. They apparently fell off of a roof. Both Max and their older brother Jordan Davis had multiple hospital visits before Max’s death and Jordan’s continued their’s afterwards.

“Thanks Garcia.” He said hanging up the phone and going to find Hotch.

****

You’re standing in the observation room with Rossi while Hotch and the UnSub, Jordan Davis, are in the interrogation room. Hotch got a confession which ended with the UnSub yelling, “I couldn’t protect Max and these people couldn’t protect their younger siblings! It’s their own faults!”

Agents from a different unit came and took Davis into custody. Aaron came into the observation room and Rossi left. The two of you walked up to his office. He wrapped his arms around you and you put your face in his shoulder, tears running down your face.

“It’s okay y/n, you’re safe, we got him.”

He held onto you until you stopped crying and you pulled away. He looked at you with soft eyes, “Are you okay?”

You nod at him and respond, “It still hurts, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.” 

You offer him a small, genuine small. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He returned your small smile.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” You asked him, knowing he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Sure. Do you want to-uh make it a date?” He replied carefully.

“Do I-yes I would love to.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture. 

He grabbed his bag the two of you walked out of his office and to the elevator. Once you got out, he wrapped his free arm around your shoulder. It was warm and comfortable. He opened the passenger door of his vehicle for you. 

****

You had both ordered and there was a lull in the conversation. 

“Why were you so surprised when I asked you for a date?” He asked.

You blushed and said, “I may have overheard your conversation with Rossi.”

He chuckled and you let out a small laugh. “He could tell I was lying you know.”

You smiled. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Well, I’m glad you were.”

Just then the waiter arrived with your food. The two of you ate and continued talking. When you were both done, he paid the check. You tried to convince him to split it but he refused. 

“At least let me get dessert then?” You wanted to repay the favor, but you also wanted the night to last as long as possible.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked as the two of you walked outside.

“We could walk to the ice cream shop that’s a few blocks away.”

“Sounds perfect.”

****

At the ice cream shop you ordered a waffle cone with cotton candy ice cream and he got a waffle cone with cookies and cream ice cream. After you paid you decided to take a longer way back to his car as you ate them. You talked and laughed with him the entire time. 

He drove you home and walked you to your door. Before walking inside you turned around to face him. 

“Goodnight Aaron.” You said as you looked up at him. 

“Goodnight y/n.” The two of you held eye contact for a little while before he leaned in. He stopped just short of your lips, looking into your eyes for approval. You gave him a small nod and he gently cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours. They were warm and smooth. It lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away and took a breath. Your hands were on the back of his head and you gently pulled him back towards you. The second kiss was longer and deeper than the first. He tasted sweet from the ice cream. This time you pulled away, needing to breathe.

“Wow.” Was all you said once you caught your breath.

He smiled at you and nodded slowly. 

“Goodnight y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and said “Goodnight.” 

He walked back to his car to leave as you walked inside your house.

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6* 

Tags: @shrimpyblog @hommoturttle @winterscaptain @jovialtimetravelgladiator  @lex-is-a-shipper @cypherthetransmasc @winterparkers @1234-angelika @thosesteelblueeyesaremysafeplace

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Extraordinary

from An Adventurer’s Guide to Romance Part 2 of the series collaboration between myself & @guardians-of-exo​! Please go check out her blog! Her moodboards are *chef’s kiss* magnificent and she listens to me scream about plants while she fixes all of my horrific punctuation! She is wonderful. <3 Pairing: Yixing x reader Rating: M (for mentions of sexual activity and semi-graphic gore). Words: ~10k

The sun is just bright enough to be an annoyance to your eyes. Bringing your hand to shield your eyes in a mock salute, a smile graces your lips anyway at the thought of your herbs appreciation for the burning star. During your route, you wonder if your Coneflower and Thyme are ready for pruning. Chewing your lip, you worry they aren’t but hope they are. As more soldiers return injured from outside the city limits, your stocks of herbs have begun to run low. Dealing with the current threats to the Kingdom, you’re concerned that the growth of your medicinal herbs won’t be enough to heal everyone. Just one week ago you’d expressed such concerns to the Lady of the Palace, who promised to bring them before the King. For days you stressed, fluttering about the ward and checking your inventories twice, thrice, just to keep busy when you were not tending to the wounded. If your calculations were correct, you would run out within the month. Especially with the pesky Knight Captain and his recklessness. You vividly remember the moment the Lady of the Palace returned to you with a smile gracing her lips. Elegant and regal as she may be, her professional exterior faltered just enough to let you see the pleasant side of her happiness when she came to tell you the King had found a hopeful prospect of resolution for your concerns. Seeing the value of his people’s safety, he sent a guarded caravan to collect an Apothecary living outside of the city's walls to the North. One with a quirky but excellent reputation. That was three days ago, explaining that they’d just arrived and in two days’ time it would be the first day of a new contract between the palace and this new Apothecary. You giggle to yourself at the events that followed. The Knight Captain barging into the ward carrying his Lieutenant as they bickered like siblings. You learned she was part of the caravan and somehow managed to fall from her horse and break her leg.

She was frustrated by the situation and was every bit as loud as her temper, complaining about being bedridden for a couple of days. She went on a rant about who was going to babysit the Knight Captain while she wasn’t there, Chanyeol huffing with an offended look on his face.

Loud peals of laughter startle you from your memories as a pack of children chase one another across the street ahead of you. A shaggy black mutt runs between them with a tongue too big for its muzzle flopping out of one side.  You see Frost Flower Inn on the opposite side of the street, laughing at the irony of its name while it’s lit up in the warmth of the sun. The owner moves across the porch, sweeping before the crowd picks up later. Sensing your eyes on him, he turns his feline gaze to you with a kind smile.

“Good morning Y/N!” he calls across the expanse of stone, waving a hand at you excitedly. Removing a hand from your skirts, you wave back as you pass, “Good morning, Minseok!” From the directions you were given by the palace Cartographer, the new shop should be just around the corner from the bakery. You sigh contentedly as you draw closer. The smell of freshly baked goods gets heavier the closer you come to its source. Several women are loitering around the outside, their eyes trained to the open walls of the building for something. Just as you’re rounding the corner you hear an angelic male voice greeting them, and they swoon. Immediately, you trip over something large, “Oh!” Careful not to land on it, you straighten and look back to see a man lying asleep on the path. A pair of round wire-framed eyeglasses lays cracked on the dirt beside him. Surging forward, you watch his chest rise and fall before touching his cheek gently a few times, “Sir?” He's out cold. He doesn’t respond to your touch or your voice, but you’re satisfied he’s alive. Looking around, you notice he came from the open door of a shop not ten feet away. You need to get him up. While you’ve had your share of moving dead weight into the medical ward at the palace, you’re not sure you can do it alone. Weighing your options, girlish laughter comes from the corner once more. None of those women would be of assistance, but perhaps the man from the bakery would help you move him without much fuss. You rise, looking around the quiet alley before you move back out onto the main stretch of road. It takes a moment of polite pushing to reach the door of the bakery, but you manage. Entering, you spot two men standing behind the counter, one older and one younger. You’re aware the establishment is owned by a father and son, and you can see the resemblance. “Ah, excuse me?” you call to them. There isn’t anyone else standing at the counter other than you. The older of the two notices you first. “How can I help you, miss?” he asks. His smile crinkles his eyes.  Twisting your body backwards toward the door, you’re not sure how to begin without causing a commotion, “Ah... you see, I actually need some help? Something... heavy, fell over and I can’t move it by myself. Would you mind assisting me? It will only take a moment.” Considering your request, he turns, “Son, can you help this young lady?” The younger man looks up from the dough he is kneading on the counter with a curious expression. He pats his hands on his apron aggressively and rinses them before coming around the front of the counter. “Can you help me lift something for a moment?” you inquire. His smile also crinkles his eyes, like his father’s. “I can,” he confirms, gesturing for you to lead the way. The moment you’re outside, you realize the commotion the women are causing is for him. None of them make a sound as they watch him follow you around the corner. Shuddering, you feel their heated gazes like daggers in your back. “Ah...” you begin, scratching at your head and pointing at the man still sleeping in the street. The young Baker gawks, “What happened to him?” Heaving a sigh from your lungs, you pluck the glasses from the ground and pocket them before you crouch and hold each ankle in one hand, “I don’t know, I nearly tripped over him. I think he came from this shop,” you explain, tilting your chin toward the open door.  With a strong, furrowed brow, your assistant moves to the man's head, gathering his shoulders into his arms. Lifting him together, you move him through the door. Taking in the chaos of boxes and crates scattered around the main room, you notice an abundance of shattered glass vials and a mess of brown colored powder on the floor and decide to investigate later. A staircase is behind the counter. “There’s got to be a bed upstairs,” you suggest. “Here,” replies the Baker. “Let me carry him then.” Together, you maneuver the sleeping man onto his back. As you move up the staircase, it creaks beneath the combined weight of the men, and you’re grateful for the help.  Surely as you thought, a single bed rests below a window on the second floor. With your aid, the man is eased down onto it and laid on his side. The young Baker rolls his shoulder, releasing a huff, “Well then. What are you going to do with him?” Twisting your lips, you consider your options and decide to stay until this man recovers, “I’m the Head Physician at the palace. I can sit with him until he wakes up. I'm here to meet him anyway.” Running a hand through his hair to push it off of his forehead, the man nods, “Ah, I see then. You must know the Lady of the palace.” “Oh? Yes, I do,” you begin, pausing to question. “Do you?” His bottom lip juts out and his eyes flick around the room. “I met her last week,” he says. “She came to check out this shop. Something about an Apothecary to help the sick and wounded. She got a little lost and asked for help.”  “I see,” you nod in understanding. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name,” you realize.  He smiles politely, “It’s Junmyeon.” Nodding, you return the sentiment, “Thank you, Junmyeon. I'm Y/N. I appreciate your help.” He hums in reply, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve got to get back to work then. It was nice meeting you,” he states cordially as he leaves. Just before he disappears on the staircase, he adds, “Tell him to be more careful when he wakes up, please.”  It makes you laugh as he leaves. For a few quiet moments, you watch the sleeping man. Or rather, sedated, is your best guess. You're nearly positive the powder on the floor downstairs is Valerian Root. Nobody sleeps that heavily under natural circumstances. You watch him rest quietly, taking note of his features. His ears are pointed just slightly, and his cheekbones are high, with a straight nose, curved slightly at the button. Even with relaxed features during sleep, he’s handsome. The line of his lips makes a shape you find cute.  Having ogled him enough, you look around the room. A bookshelf full of journals and a desk are set up against the opposite wall of the bed, and a chest of clothing sits open at the far end of the room. Several pieces are spilling over the edge of it, and various types of accessories are gathered on a low table beside it.  A large woolen rug swathes the floor beside the bed, and a washbasin kisses the edge of it where it stands along the wall. There’s also an impressive oval mirror leaning against the corner of the room next to it. You can see your reflection clearly in its flawless surface. The sound of stirring among sheets pulls your attention back to the bed, where the man is moving. Awkwardly, you stand in the center of the room hugging your arms to yourself.  He blinks a few times and takes a large breath, yawning. The man sits up and puts one palm to his head, groaning. “Take it easy,” you comment quietly. His attention snaps to you, finally noticing he isn’t alone. Curiously, he looks at you, “Hello, can I help you?” You laugh. It’s not that you meant to, but his kindness immediately pulls the endearing sound from your chest, “Are you alright?” “I’m sorry,” he begins, coughing slightly. “Who are you and what happened?” You sit beside him at the foot of the bed, “I’m Y/N. I tripped over you lying in the middle of the street and brought you back here with some help.” He nods, knitting his brow as he remembers, “Ah, yes. I think I knocked over a crate of Valerian powder. Tried to get outside but I guess I breathed in too much.” That would explain the vials of broken glass and the powder on the floor downstairs. A swell of pride wells in your chest at your correct deduction. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble and thank you for helping me,” he begins quietly, still rubbing his head. “I just moved in and it’s been a little difficult.” He pauses when he squints at you, “Have you seen a pair of glasses, by the way?” “Oh,” you jolt, snapping your fingers together. Reaching into your pocket, you procure the pair of frames with the damaged lens that were lying outside. “They’re a little broken,” you state in a sad voice.  He smiles as he takes them from your hands, holding them up to inspect the crack, “I can fix these.” Your mouth drops open in shock, “Really, how?” The man grins at you with mischievous eyes, “It’s a secret I’m afraid.” He rises and moves to the stairs, turning to look at you expectantly before descending. You stand a little too quickly, nearly tripping on your own skirts to follow him. Down in the shop, you hear him click his teeth, finding him crouched over the pile of wasted dust. “It’s no good anymore,” you muse aloud sadly, remembering why you’re here in the first place. The man stands up again and smiles at you. A dimple forms in one of his cheeks. “Perhaps not all is lost,” he reports wistfully. “Why are you so sad?” “Oh...” you suddenly remember you’ve yet to introduce yourself to him, “I’m Y/N, the Head Physician. That Valerian powder was something I was hoping I could purchase from you, among other things.” The man perks up, his eyes bright with understanding. “Oh! Has it been two days already?” he chuckles to himself, looking around the room sheepishly. “I got so busy trying to set up the shop I hadn’t realized it was time for you to come already.” “It’s okay, I understand,” you reply. He turns toward you fully, extending a hand. “I’m Yixing. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I look forward to working with you,” he smiles kindly. His dimple appears again when you take his hand and return the gesture with a warm smile of your own. “What else were you hoping I have? It's yours if I’ve got it. I can have more Valerian powder for you by this time tomorrow if that’s okay?” he asks, moving to the counter and reaching for his ledger. “I’m not open for business with anyone else yet, but the Royal contract starts today of course. I won’t charge you for anything you take with you today,” he turns around and pauses to meet your gaze. “As thanks for your help.” You realize your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling for so long, “It’s really no trouble. I’m glad you’re alright.” Yixing, as you’ve learned, grins back at you with a wink, “Never slept better.” Both of you laugh at his jesting. You think the sound of his laughter suits him. Taking a peek around the room, you spot something you’re looking for. Yixing’s eyes chase your form deeper into the room where you reach up to pluck three sprigs of dried Thyme from the ceiling, “These will do.” His smile falters momentarily, “That’s all?” “Well,” you hum, looking around the room while tapping the dried herbs against your fingertips. “This?” you question, moving to a crate of Yarrow root. Yixing moves to your side with a small burlap sack, “Take however many you like.” You count two, letting them sink into the bag he holds out for you one at a time. Up close, now that’s he’s awake and standing in front of you, his attractiveness comes to life with the mid-morning sunlight casting oddly shaped shadows against his skin.  When you look up at his face, he’s wearing the same smile and waiting patiently. You step away to pluck a string of garlic bulbs from the opposite end of the wall. Yixing follows, grinning as you drop them carefully into the bag, “Always a good choice.” “Can never have too many,” you agree with a smirk that matches his own. Both of you pause, smiling like idiots. You admit to yourself Yixing certainly seems interesting. You find yourself curious for what this new partnership has in store. “I think that will do for today,” you announce. Nodding, he shuts the drawstring tightly, offering it to you. “Thank you,” you express, taking the bag and turning to leave. When you turn around to look back at him, he’s leaning on a stack of books nonchalantly. Slowly, it begins to slide with his weight. “This time tomorrow?” you ask just as the books give way and fall from under his palm. He catches himself, standing up straight and looking at you with wide eyes, ignoring the mess of books on the floor, “Yes.” You laugh, shaking your head and waving to him, “I look forward to working with you, Yixing.” Passing by the front window as you leave, you catch sight of him inside the store. He’s talking to himself, repetitively pushing the heel of his palm against his forehead. Then, he disappears to the floor, probably to pick up the pile of books. With a smile, you make your way back to the palace. __________________________________________ The following morning, just as promised, Yixing has a basket with vials of Valerian powder wrapped neatly and ready for you.

There’s a gentle smile on his face when he passes them to you, and it grows wider with joy when he hears your soft gasp of delight. “Oh these are perfectly well balanced! Thank you so much,” you praise him, meeting his eyes as you pull one out and hold it closely to your chest. He laughs softly, maintaining the same happy expression. “You’re very welcome. I’m happy to help,” he says. Your eyes follow the movement of his delicate fingers as they push his glasses up the length of his nose. There’s a dusting of rose color to his cheeks. Before the moment lulls for too long, you wonder aloud, “Where did you learn such perfect skill?” Yixing blinks at you once, twice, opening his mouth and furrowing his brow before he sighs, “Ah, I just have a lot of practice.” “Was it a family practice?” you ask. His smile falters for a moment. He looks at the floor and sadly meets your eyes, “Uh, no. My family is long gone.” Frowning, you touch at your own chest, “Oh… I’m sorry for asking. I di-“ “It’s okay,” he waves a hand at you with wide eyes. Then he moves to sit on the high stool behind the counter, “They died when I was three or four. Occupational hazards.” “I see,” you nod sadly. Yixing clears his throat then, standing. “I um,” he begins, folding his arms across his chest and looking seriously at you. “I wonder if I might be able to come and watch you work? Or see your ward?” You were not expecting him to ask these kinds of things, but you pause, “Why would you want to do that?” He unfolds his arms and stuffs his hands in his pockets, “It will help me conclude what I need to focus on to help you to the best of my ability.” You’re touched by his willingness, “Yixing, you don’t need to do that.” “I want to,” he immediately responds. He refuses to let you deflect his wishes. “Would it make you uncomfortable?” You flush, though you’re not sure why. It’s a simple request to watch you work for the sake of providing the best resources for medicine. Medicine and healing are not something most people would think of as intimate, but most people aren’t in the field. There’s something about it. Something calm and quiet and yes, you would say intimate, about carefully practicing medicine and healing to ease the suffering. The compassion and bonds you make with your patients. Regardless of your feelings, you know it would be good to do this, “No, it’s okay. You can come.” His single dimple forms in his cheek with his smile. “Tomorrow?” he asks. “Alright,” you nod. ________________________________________________________________________ Tomorrow comes, but your stomach is too nervous to have any food before you begin your rounds. Three more soldiers were admitted to the ward overnight, having sustained Drauger-related injuries. You’ve finished redressing wounds on two of them when a knock on the ward’s door interrupts you from the third. “Master Physician, the Apothecary has arrived,” says the guard, turning to leave the moment Yixing walks through the door. He waves briefly to you before holding up a book of parchment and pointing to a seat at the desk beside the door. You smile and nod at him before turning back to your task. You pick up a mortar and pestle from the cart beside the patient’s bed, crushing and grinding a clove of fresh garlic. With a match, you then hold the flame out to kiss a pair of forceps for a few seconds before whipping it with your wrist to extinguish it. You pinch some garlic with the instrument and give the soldier a stern look before you drop it into the wound on his abdomen.  He hisses and you can feel Yixing’s eyes shift from his notes to your frame. “Hush now and let me wrap you up. This will help,” you mutter to him. “Next time don’t go picking fights with undead, lest you end up like they do.” “Yes ma’am,” the soldier grunts. He watches you pluck a bandage from a bowl, steeped in thyme paste before he holds his breath. You lay it over the wound as gently as your hands will allow, patting the man on the shoulder when you’re done. You can still feel Yixing watching you as you pull out a roll of thick, soft gauze from a drawer lower on the same cart. Even though you can’t see him, you know his gaze lingers on you as you touch the half-naked man in front of you. You ignore the flush it brings to your cheeks as you nearly press your cheek to his pectoral, struggling to reach behind him as you wind the gauze carefully around his torso. Finished, you turn back to your mysterious business partner. Before either of you can say a word, another Physician moves into the ward with a woman retching into a bucket. The rest of the day carries on this way, until you’re exhausted, but you continue to work diligently to relieve the pain of the suffering. It’s well passed supper and the moon is rising to the peak of the sky before you are finally finished. Yixing, patient as ever and thirsty for fulfillment, has not left you. He did give you some space to deliver a baby for a woman earlier in the afternoon, but even the food he returned with for you remained there beside him at the desk. In the quiet stillness of the late evening, you approach his side, noticing the way the orange candlelight casts warm shadows across the bridge of his nose and gives a soft glow to his dark eyes. You pull a chair up beside him and collapse into it rather unceremoniously. There’s little grace left to be had when you can’t feel your feet beneath you anymore. “Long day?” he guesses with a dimpled grin. His eyes watch you expectantly as you nod, yawning into the back of your hand, “Something like that.” “You should get some rest,” he says. “A wild guess but I think you need to eat, bathe and sleep.” You roll your head back across your shoulders, smiling at him from the odd angle of your head, “He’s cute and smart? Who would have guessed.” He laughs happily at your flirtatious sarcasm but says nothing else, “I should probably let you get some rest.” “Wait,” you whisper when he stands to leave. “At least let me see what you’ve come up with before you go.” His smile crinkles his eyes this time, conceding to your wishes. Yixing turns to move the cold plate of forgotten supper into your lap with a raised brow, effectively fixing you with a daring look as he smooths his notes across the desk. You eat as he begins speaking, pointing out things he noticed about your preferences to different herbs and treatments and laughs as he explains an expression of disgust you always make when dealing with Ginger root. “I don’t like the smell,” you laugh and take a bite of bread. He continues, but you stop him when his fingers crosses a particular herb, “Ah, not Goldenseal, please. I don’t use it for a reason. The effective doses are so close to the line of poison and I have other remedies for what it treats. It’s also endangered.” Yixing nods, carefully pulling the quill from the ink bottle and crossing out the word on his list. “I would also suggest cutting back on the mount of Winter Savory you’re using. You can mix it with other herbs to help it last and it will have the same benefits,” he says before adding, “But it’s just my opinion. I can get you more Summer Savory if you need it.” You shake your head at him, “No, you’re right. I should cut it back. I just don’t have enough time to do the cutting so I mix it all at once just so I have any salves at all.” He smiles at you, picking up his papers and taking the empty plate from your hands to set it back on the desk, “Well that’s part of why I’m here now, so let me worry about that. You just focus on treating these poor people.” “What about the Fennel? Why do we need that?” you ask curiously, tilting your chin toward the page. He turns to you fully and regards you with a blank expression momentarily, “Well they’re delicious, that’s why.” You bark out a loud laugh and give him a soft smile, “Thanks, Yixing.” He nods and leans forward to pat your shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Turning to watch him go, you notice your feel more awake since he put his hand on you. Willfully, you try to pretend your heart also doesn’t race. ____________________________________________ Yixing comes the next morning and settles into this routine for eight more days as well. Every day you feel nervous about him watching your movements and curiously scribbling notes about your work. Always, after a few hours you forget he is there and act more naturally. He seems to have made some friends among other palace staff members. You had even seen him delivering a letter to your friend the Lady of the Palace once three days ago. Her smile upon seeing the folded parchment made you suspicious, but you’re much too busy to do anything about it other than be happy for her. By the time the sun is at its peak in the afternoon, you’re reminded by his gentle fingers touching lightly at your elbow to ask you if you could pause to eat. He always reminds you your health is important, too. What are these poor people to do if their greatest source of healing is out of commission. In the afternoons he works from the room adjacent to the ward, working hard to mix salves and cures and prep jars of steeping bandages. He also tends to your garden of herbs, watering and pruning at the right time. Twice you’ve caught him talking to the plants and giving them extra attention although at first you were not sure if he was talking to them or himself. You grow weary as the days drag on and neither of you wants to admit that there has been an increase in patients admitted for wounds caused by the Draugers. Neither of you acknowledges that the injuries are graver as the days go on. Somehow, he has met Kyungsoo, the Head Chef, and the pair have become fast friends. Kyungsoo spoils him with food every day as thanks for his help. You’re thankful to Kyungsoo in return. Since Yixing began helping out and making most of your salves and remedies for you, he has also made deals to ensure you have a hot meal at the end of your shift. Today, in spite of the fear beginning to seep into your tired bones, Yixing surprises you. He walks in and greets you as usual, but held in the crook of his arm are not only his notebooks, but a large selection of flowers are wrapped in a lovely color of paper and tied with twine. His eyes flick to yours briefly across the room while you place stitches in the thigh of a wounded soldier, and your eyes widen when you see what he’s carrying. Yixing avoids your gaze until you finish your procedure and are stepping closely into his personal space. You lean over him deliberately to look at the arrangement, “Did you bring me flowers?” He balks, clearing his throat, “They’re for medicine.” He pretends to look over his notes, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Feverfew?” you ponder aloud. “Migraines and headaches,” he clarifies offhandedly. You smile, “Passion flower?” You let your fingers pass delicately over the colorful petals as you wait for his reply. He grins but still refuses to meet your gaze, “Depression and blood pressure.” “Hm…” you muse. “What about the Paganum Harmala?” “The seeds are good for your skin, among other things,” he says with a shrug. “Camomi-“ you try but he cuts you off. “Same thing but better,” he states. With each flower your smile grows. “What about Sunflowers,” you ask. He scoffs, laughing and finally looking up, “You already know most of these. Why are you asking?” You shrug in return, “I don’t know all of their uses, and I just like to hear you talk about them.” He nods, lips tightening as a grin splits across his face. “What about the lavender?” you pry after a moment passes, even though this one you already know. He smiles wider at you, “Calming.” “The Sunflowers are beautiful,” you comment, running the pad of your index finger through the center of one. Yixing agrees. “They’re good for supporting digestion and your immune system. Promoting healthy skin, too,” he says matter-of-factly. “And the eucalyptus?” “Stress,” he whispers. You’re not entirely sure how all of these are going to help patients, and you panic briefly if there isn’t anything else left in his shop. Yixing, attuned to you after so many days of observing, immediately catches your rising concern, “These are for you, not the patients.” He pushes his glasses higher up his face again. He doesn’t say anything else for a few moments, letting you think back through each one and what he means until you realize how caring he is. Each and every one of these flowers is beautiful, and he picked them all based on their benefits specifically with you in mind. Regardless of your professions and the relation they have to your partnership… the gesture feels very romantic to you. Heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks when your head snaps to his and you stare at the dimple in his cheek while he smiles at you kindly. “Yixing…” you try, needing to swallow through the dryness of your throat. “You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you quietly. A pained moan pulls your eyes away from him again, and you smile gently at him before you turn back to your patients. _____________________________________________ All night you tossed and turned, your head full of Yixing and what his gesture meant to you today. For days now he has done nothing more than quietly observe you. No, that’s not all he has done. He has quietly observed you and acted on his findings. Making sure you’re eating and advocating for your well-being on behalf with other palace staff members. He has worked tirelessly to make proper treatments and remedies and even improved upon some of your recipes. He has admired you. You’re very grateful to him. From your bed, your eyes settle upon the sprigs of eucalyptus you hung from the side of your bath earlier, letting the steam of the water pull essential oils from the plant to help you relax. Slowly, you let your eyes wander away from the basin to the bundle you pulled the plant from. It rests, still wrapped in twine, on the plush cushion of an armchair near the door. Furrowing your brow, you realize you don’t know how to crush some of those flowers into effective benefits for yourself. Closing your eyes and turning over, for another hour or so you contemplate taking them to Yixing in the morning and asking him to teach you how. Surely he knows if he gave them to you from his own supply, and you happen to have a day off tomorrow. ____________________________________________________ The sound of someone shouting stirs you from sleep in a panic. Lifting your head from the pillow, you realize it’s nearly midday. “I told you to put it over there, not here!” another voice hollers back. With a sigh, you will your heart to calm its racing upon your realization that it isn’t anything to panic about; just staff going about their normal duties. You roll out of bed and hiss as the cold stone bites at your toes, padding across it with large strides to stand on the woolen rug in front of your armoire. Tying the knot of your corset, your eyes finally land on the wrapped flowers still sitting right where you left them. Your lips stretch into a giddy smile, and you quickly finish dressing and brushing back your hair. There’s an extra bounce of excitement and butterflies in your stomach as you take them into your arms and bring them to your nose. You laugh and pull open your door, intent on making your way to his shop, officially named The Honeyed Ram. The moment you step onto the main stretch of road in town, warm summer rain begins to pour down. It catches you off guard since the sun is still shining brightly, and you are helpless to escape it. Instead, you laugh as you ball your skirts in one fist and run down the street with your flowers. By the time you make it to the Apothecary’s door, you’re nearly soaked. Protected under the awning of the shop, you take a moment to collect yourself and adjust your wet hair as best you can before you push open the door. Hearing the bell, the handsome owner emerges from the room behind the counter with a his ledger balanced on one splayed palm and a quill in the other, “Welcome to The Honeyed Ram. How may I-“ He stops in his tracks when he meets your eyes over the top of his glasses where they’ve slid down his nose. He moves them from your face to take in your wet appearance, smiling as he sets his things on the counter, “Oh, let me get you a towel.” You don’t move or say anything, standing there dripping rainwater onto his floor while he hastily climbs the stairs two at a time. A moment later he returns with a large towel, immediately stepping toward you and taking it upon himself to cage your head in it with both hands. You can hear him laugh as he squeezes your hair in his hands, gently rubbing the sides of your face and neck with it to dry you off. With the barrier of the towel, you can feel his fingers run along the exposed bit of your chest to wipe away the water and your eyes snap to his the moment the towel is moved. His smile is gentle and kind and for a moment you wonder if he also finds you as attractive as you find him. You wonder if his fingertips brushing your collar bone and over the tops of your bosom make his heart race like it does yours. “Thank you,” you murmur to him when he is finished and satisfied, stepping back to look at you again. Yixing gently laughs, “You’re welcome. But why are you here… is everything alright?” His eyes move to the arrangement in your hands nervously, curious why you’ve brought them back to him. Nodding, you tuck them close to your chest again. “I um…” you try, but your pride makes it difficult. Yixing tilts his head, waiting politely for your answer. You sigh, “Can you teach me how to use some of them?” His eyes widen momentarily, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that. “If you want to, I mean. I don’t want to waste such a kind gift,” you blurt out, unsure of how it might make him feel or if you’re just reading into it too much. The man in front of you says nothing for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he considers you, standing there looking like a lamb. “I’d be honored to,” he finally admits quietly. The sun is suddenly overtaken outside as clouds move in and pour more rain over the kingdom. It pounds heavily on the roof as Yixing turns away with a smile, hooking a finger and beckoning you to follow. His work room is small but cozy. Perhaps a little tight for two people to work together all the time, but for today you will make do. There are no windows in this room, but several sconces are placed around the walls with candles lit to provide a warm glow. A gathering of them rests on the table as well, dripping wax onto the wood. There’s a small alchemy table in one corner of the room, already warmed where a bright blue elixir rests in the center well, flanked by coneflower petals and an amethyst crystal in the opposite circles. A blue butterfly’s wing rests off to the side, ready to be added. “Come over here, please,” he requests, motioning for you to stand at the work bench on the other side of the room. He pulls some tools from their resting places hung on the wall above it and passes you a pair of small scissors. The next hour progresses this way, as he teaches you how best to prune the flowers and dry them out effectively without burning them. Yixing shows you how to grind the lavender, but your technique isn’t grinding the buds fine enough. He steps behind you, gently taking your hands in his own and showing you a better technique, curling your wrist as you press the blunt head of the pestle down, and shaking the mortar around after each press. You’re not paying attention though, too distracted by the feel of his body so close to yours, and his hands guiding yours through your work. You realize that he smells like nature, calm and fresh. “That’s it…” he praises quietly. His head is just over your shoulder, leaning into your frame so he can see. The sound of his voice in your ear so pleasantly makes your heart thunder in yours ears and your cheeks feel as if they might burst into flame. Yixing moves to lean beside you briefly. His hand settles on your waist naturally, thinking nothing of it as he reaches over to fetch a glass jar full of a white substance. He sets it in front of you and moves his palm back to your hand again. “Now let’s combine these,” he whispers, plucking the cork from the glass jar. The sound of the pop makes you jump, whipping your head back against his mouth. Yixing makes a sound of pain and leans back, holding the cork as he presses the back of his hand to his mouth. You turn around in the space between the table and his body, watching in horror as his hand comes away with a smear of blood. “Oh damn the Maker, I’m so sorry!” you curse, leaning up to take his face with both hands. He stills as you examine his mouth. The center of his bottom lip is split open, and without thinking you hook the end of your sleeve around your thumb and dab it gently against the plump skin. Yixing’s eyes search your face while you tend to his wound. “Where do you keep your thyme balm?” you ask him, eyes lifting to meet his, realizing what you’re doing with your fingers pressed delicately to his lips. Embarrassment creeps up your neck and you release him, attempting to duck out of the space. Yixing grabs your wrist gently in his free hand before you can run from him, holding it to keep you there between himself and the table. Your eyes snap to his tongue as it slowly peeks out from his mouth to swipe over the wound. You stare, transfixed as the wound disappears in the span of a minute. “Magic?” you whisper, immediately intrigued again by the quirky talents of this handsome man. “Just a little,” he confirms. Setting aside your budding feelings for him, you rise on your toes and grasp his face between your hands again, swiping your thumbs and fingers across his lips and inspecting them closely. The lips you’re surveying stretch into a smile and you catch yourself, feeling foolish as you release him. Yixing chases you, leaning fully into your frame against the table and forcing you to lean back as he moves closer and studies your face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to him, suddenly feeling foolish. “For what? You’re very cute when you’re interested in something,” he admits in the small space between you, and you can faintly smell the mint he chews every day. The care that he expressed the words with is not lost on you. Yixing is patient as he moves languidly, letting one hand rest on the table behind you while the other settles against your waist once more. His words paint your ears and cheeks in a rose blush, and his hand feels soothing where it rests on your side. His lips hover over yours and the warmth of his eyes is kind as he meets yours and waits for you to decide. The moment your lips touch you feel like you’ve been shocked. Guilt and shame flood through you and you gasp, covering your own lips with your fingertips. Your body screams at you to run. So you do. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” you choke out, turning on your heel to leave Yixing and The Honeyed Ram. ________________________________________ Yixing doesn’t come to the palace for the next two days. Part of you wonders if he feels upset with you or if he is just as kind as ever and wants to give you space. All of you wonders if you’ve screwed it all up because you let your job get in the way of your feelings for him. Or is it the other way around? Refusing to stew in your turmoil over the situation, you work. Around the clock you tend to the wounded and sick. It’s nearly midnight when you close the curtain on the last patient you needed to see, after giving him a heavy dose of Valerian powder and Poppy to knock him out while you sewed his shoulder shut. You’ve just sat down at the desk when someone quietly enters the ward. “Y/N,” the voice calls. It’s deep and husky; one that you know as you look up to see the Knight Captain standing inside the room. “Chanyeol?” you question, curiously looking him over. “What can I do for you now?” you shoot him a grin even though you’re exhausted. He isn’t dressed in his uniform, off duty for the evening, as he lifts his shirt to reveal a nasty bruise blooming across his ribs and abdomen. “Just got back today,” he says bitterly. “And?” you ask, curious about the battles he has fought. “Still no good. We didn’t lose anyone, but they’re getting smarter. I don’t think it’s just Draugers acting on their own. They’re too coordinated for that, it’s unusual,” he admits, looking sour. You nod at him, “Roll that cart over, will you? Pull up a chair, too. I don’t think you need to stay.” He does as requested and pulls his tunic over his head to let you work. “Anywhere else I need to see?” you ask as you attach bandages soaked in blended Aloe Vera and Catnip to his ribs. The tips of his ears and his cheeks are red as he shakes his head at you. “What about that bruise?” you wonder aloud, pointing to a dark circle in the space between his jaw and ear. He sighs, grinning with defeat, “Ah, no. That one’s okay.” You rise, motioning for him to stand as well so you can wrap the dressing around his torso. Chanyeol lifts his arms to allow you the freedom to work. He hisses as your fingers press the dressing into his back. Curiously, you peek behind him to see long lines of red scratches down his shoulders. “Maker’s breath Chanyeol. What did she do to you?” He laughs gruffly, “She begged me to fuck her into oblivion, so I did.” His comment earns him a smack across the top of his head and a sharp glare. “What about you, then, huh?” he mocks instead, “Don’t act like you haven’t got it bad for that Apothecary.” You gawk at him, floundering for words until none come and he blinks at you expectantly with his wide eyes. “What?” Chanyeol inquires, aware by your actions that something has happened. “He um…” you try, fishing for words to explain. “We…” You huff, looking at the floor and covering your face with both hands. “I’m not even sure if I can call it a kiss,” you trail off. “A kiss?” Chanyeol says loudly through the fabric of his tunic as he attempts to get it back over his head. You hiss at him, “Quiet.” “Sorry.” With a deep sigh, “Kind of, I don’t know. It was like the moment our lips touched I freaked out.” Chanyeol hums, “Why?” Your hands sweep widely around the ward to all of the closed curtains of occupied beds, “This is why. I can’t be off doing that when all of this is so important.” “Do you like him?” he quizzes instead. You nod in response, pouting at yourself. “Then let it happen. You’re not the type to shirk your duties, you’re too responsible for that.” Chanyeol’s honesty about your ethics makes you smile even if you feel like a fool. “Thanks,” you say. Chanyeol nods at you as you help him adjust his clothing over the bandages, plucking the fabric to fall correctly on his frame. “He brought me flowers,” you muse quietly. Chanyeol’s brows raise, “Oh?” You fight a gentle smile breaking across your cheeks, “It was more than just flowers.” The man in front of you remains silent, waiting for you to explain. “Every flower he brought is a remedy for something he thought I might be suffering from. Fatigue, stress, imbalance, anxiety.” “Oh,” Chanyeol says with a quiet whistle. “That is something,” he confirms. “Yeah,” is all you can manage. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” says the Knight Captain as he reaches for the door. ______________________________________________ The following day everything seems to be normal, sans the presence of the curious Yixing. Well, as normal as they can be when your kingdom is suffering a scourge of undead Draugers that seem more powerful and numerous than usual. That is, until the evening rolled around and two Physician assistants and another soldier burst through the door of the ward carrying a man screaming in agony. Dark blood, nearly black, spills from his sides along with… oh. Oh Maker that’s his intestines. Your body reacts automatically, propelling you forward to help them heave his convulsing form onto a bed. “Get that cart over here now and give me a basin of water!” you shout at the assistants. They disperse, leaving you and the soldier at opposite sides of his bed. “What happened?” you bark at the healthier man. “Um,” he starts, lip quivering as he doesn’t know what to say in his shock. Your tongue feels as sharp as your eyes as you begin cutting away the clothing of the bleeding man, “Spit it out.” “He was fine,” he tries. “Just got back from the latest battalion. Had some minor wounds and scratches but he wasn’t sick.” Water sloshes over the side of the basin as you dunk a rag into the depths of steaming water with urgency, squeezing some out onto the floor before you press it as gently as possible to his side. “I need a spool of gut thread and a candle,” you order the assistants, ripping open a drawer and procuring a vial of dried minced garlic. The soldier continues, “We were just walking back from the mess hall when he doubled over and then his skin burst open like this.” ________________________________________ Six hours later, you’re seated in Frost Flower Inn with three empty pints in front of you. You twirl a goblet of mulled wine between your fingers, staring into the deep crimson liquid. A bad idea to switch to this since it reminds you of blood. You’d seen too much blood today. Too much blood that ended in a loss of life anyway when you couldn’t get the tissue to stitch. You replay the scene in your head over and over. Hearing him scream as your thread ripped back through the necrotic skin of his side like butter, no matter how gentle you tried to be. It makes you shiver, fighting down the bile that rises in your throat. “Y/N, are you going to be okay?” a voice asks. You glance up to see someone leaning toward you from the opposite side of the table, but you don’t raise your head. Thick leather cuffs garnish the wrists of this man. Whoever it is, they sit, and two feline eyes peek into your field of vision as he drops his head onto the table to look at you. “I’ve never seen you in here drinking more than one pint, and certainly not of your own will,” Minseok observes as he watches you. A miniscule part of you hates how observant he is. You groan around another mouthful of wine, raising your brows at him as you knock it back, “I just want to be left alone.” “Trouble in paradise?” Asks a new voice. One you don’t recognize as well, but when you meet the eyes of its owner, you are vaguely familiar with his face. Something about arrows calls to your mind when you see him. Minseok sighs, “I’m not going to let you have another if you don’t tell me what’s got you so drunk.” You lower your head, jutting your bottom lip in your best pout to serve him a glare, “Don’t you like coin though?” The shorter man laughs happily at your honesty, “Of course I do. How do you think I run this fine establishment without it?” The second man drops down onto the bench beside Minseok, motioning for drinks at the bar. “I’ll buy the next round, but only if you tell,” he promises with a curled smile and crescent eyes. “I hate you,” you mumble into the last dredges of your wine. Minseok laughs again, drumming his hands on the table, “No, you don’t. You hate drinking and yet here you are anyway.” A face without a name brings three frosted pints to the table and before you can reach for yours the arrow boy grabs it and tuts at you. You pause briefly, looking at the condensation begin to drip down the side of the mug. “Fine,” you breathe, and he passes it to your waiting fingers. “These Draugers are awful. Knight Captain Chanyeol says they’re not like anything he’s ever seen before. They’re too smart and too coordinated to be regular old undead,” you say. The men nod in understanding while you continue, “I believe it, too. More and more soldiers are coming back with wounds that are becoming truly problematic.” A dog whine breaks out as you pause. Turning your head, you see it sitting at a table with four women begging for a piece of meat from a plate in the center. All of them women are watching you, clearly invested in your story. None of them are wearing typical ladylike attire, either. In different styles of armor with gear and weapons- they look like an adventure party, passing through. Ignoring them, you turn back to the men. “I don’t know much about war or about Draugers but I do know what kind of wounds they inflict,” you say, vividly remembering for the fifteenth time this evening what you experienced only hours ago. “Chanyeol didn’t report any dead and all of the soldiers that were gravely wounded came straight to the ward when they got back from outside the walls,” you whisper. With a deep breath, you clutch the icy glass in your palms and take a deep swig. Closing your eyes, you explain in the simplest terms what you saw. “A soldier was rushed into the ward today with his intestines hanging from a gaping hole in his side. I tried to sew it shut but,” you choke, shaking your head and feeling the frustration and despair of the afternoon amplify with the alcohol. “His companion said he had returned with the party with minor wounds. Some scrapes and bruises, nothing too bad, so he never came to the ward. But then it burst open suddenly this afternoon. The skin was so black and dead my stitches wouldn’t hold.” You don’t dare to glance at the faces of the men sitting across from you. “It smelled terrible. Not like a normal healthy body. It smelled like rotting corpses,” you explain to them. “Then he died, screaming in agony and bleeding out all over the floor while I couldn’t do anything to help him. I didn’t even have time to give him a sedative and stop the bleeding.” When you lift your head just enough to peek at Minseok’s face from under your lashes, he’s wearing an unreadable expression. The sharp-eyed man with dark hair beside him looks like he might be sick. The youthful owner extracts himself from the table, leaving you to watch his back with a knitted brow. From your peripheral, you can see most of the adventure party eyeing your table. One of them is watching Minseok with a look of worry. He returns to your side moments later, expertly balancing a platter full of frothy mugs on one palm. He slams three down on your table and carries the remaining to the table of women. You watch, surprised when he bends down to give the same woman a lopsided half-smile and her expression lights up. In all the years you’ve known Minseok, he’s never been interested in women affectionately. Looking at the golden liquid in your melting glass, you think perhaps it’s been too long since you visited. The mood is still sour but Minseok and Jongdae- you’ve learned- have sat dutifully with you through two more drinks. You know for sure that if you try to stand you’ll surely fall. You feel emotionally charged. Like you’re hopeless and courageous all at once. Ignoring the warnings in your head, you heft your body upright. The hands that steady you are not your own. Nor do they belong to your companions. Instead, it’s the woman that keeps staring at Minseok. “Easy there,” she chuckles happily. Up close, drunk or not, you think she’s absolutely beautiful. She smiles easily at you and steps away once you’re steadied enough she’s sure you won’t fall over. You try your best to mutter a simple thanks, and she laughs cheerfully again. “Don’t worry too much,” she chirps. “We’re actually here to help out with your Drauger problems,” she grins, giving you a thumbs up with a hand on her hip. Another pair of hands takes yours and you immediately feel less like a piece of shit. “Yisthing,” comes out more slurred than you care to admit to yourself when you see his face. He smiles, “Yes, I’m here.” “Why?” you breathe. His presence feels calming beside you. Irrationally, you’re still irritated with yourself for responding to his affections the way you did. His voice is like honey dripping over your ears when he answers, “I’ve been here all along, dove.” The way he says the pet name is both softly pleasant and exhilarating. Through the haze of alcohol, you believe he isn’t upset with you. He wouldn’t be here with his hands steadying you so affectionately if he were.

“I’ll take her back to the palace,” he announces to the group. Minseok nods with a deep sigh, getting up from the table.

Yixing still holds your hand, afraid you might fall as you sway back and forth in the street. You trip over your own feet, bumping into the hard plane of his chest with a giggle. He smiles at your drunken antics, and you can very clearly smell the mint leaves on his breath with his soft laugh.

If you’re sure of one thing in this moment, it’s the feeling of this man holding you up, and how right it is. With as much grace as you can muster, you lean into him on your toes and let your lips touch his.

A surprised gasp leaves his lips. Slowly, gently, he moves you back to stand solidly on both feet. Clicking his teeth he asks, “Oh? So now you want to kiss me?”

You smile at him, nodding rather than using your words. Your pounding heart catches up with you and you feel dizzy suddenly. It feels like you’re spinning, until you see the blur of Yixing’s body rushing forward to collect you in his arms.

Although you wouldn’t know it, he carries you the rest of the way to the palace. He makes his way past the guards who try to rush at him until they realize who he is and who he is carrying. Yixing doesn’t know where your chambers are, but he can put you in a bed at the ward. Maybe that’s not the best idea though.

While he deliberates with himself, slowing his pace as he wanders down the corridor, two men step out in front of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yixing politely smiles.

The taller of the two grins wickedly, “Oh, my.”

“Ah…Knight Captain Chanyeol, correct? Prince Baekhyun?” Yixing ponders, “Could you help me?”

The shorter man looks at you, cradled against the Apothecary’s chest, “What happened to her?”

“She drank too much. Passed out as I was walking her back,” he explains to the men.

The Knight Captain shakes his head, “But Y/N never drinks unless I force her to. What happened?”

His frown grows deeper as Yixing explains about the dying soldier earlier that afternoon. He nods, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “One of my own. We’re all a bit affected by the news.”

There’s an expression Yixing can’t pin down glazing over the Prince’s face when he glances at him.

“I can take her back. Go on ahead Baek, I’ll meet you in the training pit,” says the tall man after a deep sigh.

The smaller man nods curtly, offering no smile as he rolls his neck and departs down the corridor.

“Thanks,” Yixing replies, slowly maneuvering you into his arms.

Just as he’s about to part ways, Yixing smiles at your form snuggling into the warmth of the silver-haired man.

“You know she’s crazy about you, right?” he asks with a smile that looks a little sad in Yixing’s opinion. “She just has a hard time putting her work aside. Don’t give up though, she’ll come around.”, Chanyeol assures with a dimpled smirk.

Nodding, Yixing smiles gently, touching at his lips as he turns to leave, “I know.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Grounded pt4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

7k words later and this thing that was supposed to be a short explanation for what I saw as a plot hole in Venom is finally at an end. Got rather out of hand but since when is that unusual with fics? This’ll be proof read, edited, and then posted on AO3/FFN soon; I’m still undecided if I should chapter split it or have it all as a oneshot but it won’t be exactly as it’s been split here because I’ve posted this as I wrote it.

Someone mentioned ‘what if the ep was really like this’ so I’ll reiterate some of my earlier notes: this fic is a reaction to the lack of TB1 or Scott doing any sort of piloting in the S3 Venom despite it being a rescue where speed was important.  All the events in part 2 fit around the events we see in the episode seamlessly (I literally watched it in 5 sec bursts as I was writing to make sure of that), so to them and everyone else who thought that: this fic is designed to be that episode, just viewed through a different lens.  And then I made it worse after the episode was over because why not.

The reaction to this has been fantastic so far, way beyond anything I expected!  Thanks for that, and I hope you enjoy this last installment as much as the rest of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There was a steady beeping, calm and methodical.  Beep… beep… beep… it went, more of a reassurance than an irritant to the dregs of his consciousness.  Scott recognised it, but couldn’t place it, and found himself more interested in the fresh air flowing around his mouth and nose.  That was more immediately familiar, a constant from his last bout of consciousness, and it didn’t take his stirring brain long to label it as a rebreather.

Was that really necessary? Frowning slightly, he lifted a hand to his face and tugged the machine away, fresh air replaced with warmer air that had just the faintest tang.  The air of the sea.  He’d been on Thunderbird Two, but Thunderbird Two’s air didn’t taste of warmth and salt, rather the recycled air of an enclosed plane in flight, crisp and just a little bit off.  If this wasn’t Thunderbird Two and he was tasting sea air, there was only one place he could possibly be.

He smiled, hand still holding the rebreather falling to his side limply.  He was home.

Opening his eyes was a little more of a challenge, eyelids still heavy and eyelashes catching on each other, but as he blinked his way into awareness, beads of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes but not falling, he realised that he was almost sitting upright, the bed raised to its full extent so he was facing the wall with its fake holographic window rather than the plain and boring ceiling.

Scott appreciated that, letting the rebreather fall from his fingers as he wiped the sleep and moisture from his eyes.  He’d spent far too many hours staring at the ceiling that never changed, and at least the hologram could change.  The actual reasoning behind his positioning was more likely his rib, which Scott would worry about later.  It wasn’t his rib that had tried to kill him, and he looked down at his left arm.

A neat band-aid – a childish one, decorated with bright red biplanes soaring across a blue background that he’d always fought for as a kid – stood out against his bare skin, just below the elbow, and he smiled, wondering which of his brothers was responsible for that one.  On that same forearm he also saw a cannula, attached to tubing with translucent liquid passing through, and grimaced.  He never liked being on a drip.

He was no longer in his uniform.  Part of him – the part that contained his pride – bristled at that, wondering who had stripped him while he was unconscious and why, but the clothes he was wearing were comfortable, well-worn, and unmistakable as his favourite pyjamas even without him looking at them.  His comfort-pyjamas, although he was fairly certain he’d never made the mistake of letting that slip to anyone.  The ones he turned to whenever things got particularly rough, a plain unassuming dark grey with worn patches from the times he’d needed all the support he could get.

It could just be a coincidence, although Scott was uncomfortably aware that if there was one person he couldn’t keep anything truly secret from it was John, but whatever the reason, he was glad of them now.  There was nothing like comfort clothes after a near-death experience.

Considering he’d just had a near-death experience, the lack of anyone in the room with him was somewhat unusual.  Virgil in particular he’d expected to see, his younger brother blaming himself for bringing him out on the mission even before he’d been bitten, let alone afterwards. Kayo hovering unassumedly in the corner, sharp eyes full of concern.  John flickering by his side, watching him for the slightest change. Grandma, retired from caring for strangers but never too old to stay up all night with her family.

Scott eyed the drip. If none of his family were with him, physically or virtually, then that meant something else was going on that trumped his condition.  In their family, there was very little that trumped an unconscious brother or grandson. And if they weren’t with him, he had no intentions of staying put.

He’d removed drips hundreds of times – his own and other peoples’.  By this point, he had it down to an art, even if his sneaky family had tried to make it harder on him by putting it in his dominant arm; there were benefits to being ambidextrous.  He reached across with his right hand, fingers gently probing the needle, and had just found the sweet spot when there was the unmistakable hsss of the door sliding open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?” Grandma demanded, striding in and gently but firmly forcing him to release his grip.  “That’s there for a reason.”

“Hey, Grandma,” he greeted, grinning at her and ignoring that she’d just caught him trying to escape. “How long was I asleep?”

“Your siblings brought you back four and a half hours ago,” she told him, picking up the discarded rebreather and placing it on the bedside table before perching on the bed.  Scott watched her carefully, accepting the hand cupping his cheek as a thumb swiped at what was presumably some sleep he’d missed.  “Trust you to wake up the one time I have to use the toilet.  This old bladder can’t hold it in like it used to.”

Scott grimaced good-naturedly at the tmi and she chuckled at him, patting his cheek lightly twice before letting her hand rest.

“You gave us all a scare there, Scott,” she said softly, eyes running over him once before meeting his own.  “You don’t have to try and beat Gordon on that score, you know.  It’s okay to let someone else have that crown.”

“I’d appreciate it if he never gave me another scare in my life,” Scott admitted, before glancing around the room again.  “Where are they, anyway?  Not to sound self-centred, but I don’t usually wake up here alone.”

“Alan and Kayo are dealing with a stalled freighter just outside of orbit and Gordon and Virgil are responding to a sinking cargo ship,” Grandma told him.  “They’ll all be back soon, and delighted to know you’ve decided to re-join the land of the living.”  She tangled her fingers with his, pressing them to her chest with a hand that was almost trembling.  “It was a close call, Scott.  Your brother almost didn’t make it in time.”

His brother? Virgil?  John?  John had had a plan, he remembered that much, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the details.  Wait…

“I heard Thunderbird One,” he said, recalling the roar that had soothed him to sleep like a purr.  It could have been a figment of his imagination, but he didn’t think so.  A smile spread across his grandmother’s face.

“Of course you did,” she laughed.  “You boys and your machines.  Well on your way to see your mother and you still recognised your ‘bird.”  The smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed again. “Alan flew all the way to a lab in China to collect a dose of the antivenom before rendezvousing with Thunderbird Two to deliver it.  I’ve never seen that ‘bird fly so fast without you in the hotseat.”

Alan.  Scott could well imagine his youngest brother, face screwed up in concentration and fear, sat in the pilot’s seat.  The idea tied a knot in his chest, but at the same time there was pride, and an unexpected thankfulness for the rib injury that had kept him grounded and subsequently given Alan more flight hours in his ‘bird. Without that…

Without that, he might well have died.  The realisation doused him like cold water, his eyes leaving his grandmother’s to stare blindly at his lap.  He’d known he was dying, remembered a desperate fight against whispered promises of the stars and seeing his Mom again, but sitting in the infirmary, home and safe, it carried a different weight.

“Oh, Scott,” Grandma whispered, releasing his hand and cheek only to draw him in to a careful hug around his shoulders.  “It’s okay. It’s over.”  After a moment his hands found the back of her always there purple onesie, fisting around the fabric as his head rested in the crook of her neck.  “It’s okay.”

There was the slightest of cracks in her voice, a reminder that no matter how much steel she was made of, she wasn’t immune to the idea of loss.  Her parents, long ago, before Scott’s memories began.  Her husband, daughter in law.  Her son, who might still be alive and waiting for them.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, as much for her benefit as his.  “I’m okay.”

Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair softly as though he was a young boy woken from a nightmare again.  It was the sort of treatment she didn’t give him in front of his brothers, knowing that he preferred to keep up the illusion of strength in front of them, no matter what.

“I want you to take it easy,” she told him after a minute or so, releasing him and instead gripping his hands in hers.  One pair was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was his or hers.  “I know that’s not in your vocabulary, but I refuse to let you throw yourself back in harms’ way until you’re fully recovered after what happened today.”

“But-” Scott protested, complaints and reasons why he shouldn’t be bedbound queuing up one after the other on the tongue.  A single look from his grandmother quelled them all before he could vocalise any.

“If you can’t do it for the sake of your own recovery,” she said, something in her voice implying that she thought he should treat himself better – he treated himself fine! – “then do it for our peace of mind, Scott.  We were all terrified when we heard what happened. Virgil was stuck watching you slip away with no way of stopping it.  That fear doesn’t magically go away, Scott.  We all know that.”

He was saved from answering by the swish of the door opening again.  He glanced over, wondering who it could be when he hadn’t heard any Thunderbirds come in to land.  Brains and the Mechanic were the only others on the island, and while it wasn’t unusual for Brains to check up on the infirmary, Scott didn’t want the Mechanic near him in his current condition.

It wasn’t the Mechanic. It wasn’t Brains, either – or MAX, for that matter.

“h’Oh, you’re h’awake!” Parker said with a surprised but delighted grin as he fumbled his way into the room carrying a tray laden with food.  “h’I was just bringing food for Mrs Tracy…” he trailed off, but continued to approach the bed.

“Parker, you shouldn’t have,” Grandma smiled, releasing one of Scott’s hands to move the rebreather off of the bedside table.  The older man set the tray down before stepping up to Scott’s side.  He didn’t reach for him, keeping his hands loosely behind his back, but sharp blue eyes raked him up and down.

“’Ow are you feeling?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Scott replied, ignoring the eye roll from his grandmother, who clearly didn’t agree with his assessment.  Aside from some token weariness, which he knew was normal after a spell of time unconscious, he really did feel perfectly fine.  Even his rib wasn’t bothering him.

“h’I suppose that’s because you’re h’on the good stuff,” Parker shrugged, making Scott pause.  He should have realised that, especially after all the trouble his ribs had given him on the mission.  The temptation was there to ask how badly his recovery had been set back, but that would have just given Grandma even more ammunition to stay in bed. Besides, he’d be told eventually. Of more immediate interest was Parker’s unexpected visit.

“What brings you to the island, Parker?” he asked, glancing around the room again.  “I don’t see Lady Penelope around?”

“M’Lady’s in the lounge,” Parker told him.  “We came ‘ere to drop off the Centurion-21 fuel for Brains, but ‘eard h’about you and M’Lady requested to stay h’a while.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Grandma reminded him, and Scott smiled in agreement.  “Is she making any progress?”

“h’I couldn’t say for sure,” Parker shrugged.  “But I know M’Lady and Master John won’t stop h’until they get their way.”

Scott frowned.  Combined, John and Lady Penelope were an almost unstoppable force, but he couldn’t think of any reason for that tag-team, not right now.

“What are they doing?” he asked, because anything that big, he needed to know about.  Especially if working on that was a higher priority for John than checking in on him – John, the brother who was too used to sitting out of the loop and firmly inserted himself virtually into any situation with a brother operating at less than one hundred percent.  Scott knew he wasn’t at one hundred percent, not even by his own standards.

“Making sure today’s events never happen again,” Grandma answered, curling her hand back around his again.

Today’s events. The rescue?  Him being bitten?  That was all bad luck, how could they possibly ensure it never happened again? Although, he supposed, if anyone could, it would be the duo currently working on it.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Parker took it upon himself to explain.  “h’It transpires that the reason the ‘ospital ran h’out of h’antivenom was a funding problem,” he said, sounding somewhat unimpressed.  Scott didn’t blame him – whenever money was the problem, he found himself wanting to strangle whoever had decided lining their pockets was more important than human lives. “M’Lady h’is setting up a charity to make sure all ‘ospitals can ‘ave all the h’antivenoms they need.”  Admirable and welcome, but that didn’t explain John’s involvement.  He certainly hadn’t been needed in any of her past charity ventures.

“So what’s John doing?” he asked, hoping his brother was not ruining whoever had decided money was more important than lives.  It wouldn’t be the first time, and while Scott agreed that they deserved it, sometimes John could go a little too far.

“Arranging for International Rescue to have our own stock of all known antivenoms,” Grandma told him, squeezing his hands gently.  “We might not be able to stop spiders sneaking into our Thunderbirds, or you boys throwing yourselves in front of each other, but there is no reason why you should have had to suffer for an hour because you didn’t have the right antivenom on hand.”

That made sense, and Scott nodded his approval.  International Rescue did have a stock of common antivenoms, as well as everything they needed to deal with the local fauna on Tracy Island, but if they could broaden that, at least to the most dangerous venoms, it would only be a good thing.

It was also a typical John reaction – finding out why something had gone wrong and immediately finding a way to stop it happening again.  That, at least, told Scott that John was okay.  If he’d found a solution to the problem then he would be satisfied. No doubt Scott would find himself under close holographic scrutiny in the near future so John could see for himself that he really was fine, but with a solution the what-ifs wouldn’t be playing on his mind.

His other siblings would be less easily pacified.  He had no idea what Gordon knew, having not seen his water-loving brother at all that day thanks to a fishing trawler in trouble, but Virgil and Kayo would be kicking themselves black and blue, and Alan would be stuck in the what if I’d been too late loop.  Scott knew that feeling very well indeed.

He hadn’t yet decided if the fact that it had launched rather than exploded made the fact that he’d reached the Zero-X too late better or worse.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever decide.

“Still, I think we’d better let them know you’ve woken up,” Grandma said, releasing his hands.  “I won’t be long, so don’t even think about getting out of that bed, young man.”  She shared a look with Parker.  “If you’re hungry, see if you can eat some of that food Parker’s brought in.”  A gentle hand touched his cheek lightly before she stood up and left the room.

One look at Parker told him he wasn’t going to be going anywhere, especially when the man perched on the section of bed Grandma had just vacated.  Parker was the one he’d learnt many of his escaping tricks from – if there was one person that would see through them all, it was the butler.

“h’I wouldn’t be in too much of a ‘urry to h’escape, Master Scott,” the older man said, and Scott found himself relaxing back against the bed.  Master Scott.  It was his favourite of Parker’s ways of referring to him, but also the rarest.  He’d graduated to ‘Mr Scott’ after the Zero-X, the man’s acknowledgement that he was now the head of the family without using the dreaded Mr Tracy.  Parker never called him that, not even in public when the rest of the world insisted. Sir was a substitute when society demanded, and Scott always appreciated that.

Master Scott only came out when Parker was being fussy, and never with an audience.  Just like Grandma, he knew and accepted there was a front to be held in front of younger siblings – even if neither of them approved.  If he was Master Scott, he wasn’t expected to make any decisions or take on any of his father’s responsibilities.

“Some food?” the butler asked, gesturing to the tray.  It was homemade, but not by Grandma, and Scott would have to be far worse off to even consider declining that.  In answer, he reached for the toast, only for Parker to lightly touch his wrist and stop him. “You’ll get crumbs h’everywhere if you h’eat like that,” the older man scolded lightly.  “Stay still, there’s a good lad.”

The tray was relocated to his lap, and Scott tore into the offering as soon as Parker retracted his hands, to an amused chuckle from his companion.

“h’It’s not going anywhere, Master Scott,” Parker reminded him.

“He’s just trying to finish it before the others get home and want to share,” John commented, and Scott’s head jerked up to see his brother’s hologram materialise alongside him. He looked tired, not that that was an unusual occurrence over the past few weeks.  “You’re looking better, Scott.”

“I can’t imagine that’s hard,” he managed through a mouthful of food.  The last time he’d been aware of John’s presence, he’d been deep in the clutches of deadly venom.  If he’d looked half as had as he’d felt, it would have been an awful sight.  “How’s the campaign going?”

John pulled a face.  “They’re asking for money, which by itself isn’t a problem because I expected that, but they’re trying to charge us triple what they charge hospitals, and as Lady P’s working to get those rates reduced because they’re extortionate, I’m not letting them use our lives to line their pockets.”

Scott grimaced along with him.  Money grabbers were the worst.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, because there was no way John was letting that slide.

“Persuading them that it’s better in their interest long-term to not try and bankrupt us,” John offered, a bemused look on his face.  “We could afford it, but if they think that they’ll be driving the prices up with every new shipment.  More realistically, I’m talking to Colonel Casey to see if the GDF can’t pull some weight. As they’re military and not private, the companies couldn’t charge them as much.  It would leave us needing the GDF’s good will for access, but we already know the GDF don’t dare put us out of business.”

It was Scott’s turn to pull a face.  He hated getting the GDF involved in anything; for as long as Colonel Casey was a dominant figure in the organisation International Rescue wouldn’t have any issues, but in the longer term he was brutally aware that she was their father’s generation.  At some point, she would be forced to retire and then they’d – he’d – have to handle the full force of the GDF without inside help.

Still, he trusted John and Colonel Casey.  Anything they implemented would be beneficial to International Rescue.

“Let me know what you come up with,” he requested, and John nodded, turquoise eyes briefly scanning across him.

“Alan and Kayo will be returning home in five minutes,” he told him.  “Do you want me to tell them you’re awake or let them find out for themselves when they check in?”

“Tell them once they’ve landed,” Scott decided.  “Virgil and Gordon, too – what’s their ETA?”

“They’re racing Thunderbird Three home,” John shrugged.  “But Thunderbird Three will win.”  Scott chuckled.  Alan somehow always won their races home, no matter how much further away he’d been.

“What are they betting this time?” he asked, and John grinned.

“Loser gets to be your slave for the week,” he said.

“Mine?”

“Well you’re not doing much on your own any time soon,” John told him matter-of-factly.  “Has Grandma given you the rundown?”  Scott blinked, pausing mid-bite.

“I thought I was supposed to be walking around with the ribs,” he ventured tentatively.  “But no, I haven’t been told what the damage is yet. Care to fill me in?”

John glanced away at something Scott couldn’t see.

“Your rib re-broke,” he started bluntly.  “Which I’m sure you’ve realised.  So that’s another six weeks grounded, and this time no-one’s sneaking you onto a Thunderbird before that’s up.”

“Six weeks?” Scott groaned.  John raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Well what did you expect?” he asked.  “Kayo filled us in on the mission details once you were stable.  You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“But-” Scott protested. “What about the mission to find Dad?” John shook his head.

“The new Zero-X will take longer that to construct,” he told him.  “Brains and the Mechanic finished the T-Drive while you were out in Brazil and we’ve got the fuel, so they’re going to test fire it tomorrow to make sure it’s all working before they start on the craft itself.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott asked. “If it’s ready why not today?”

“Even engineers need breaks sometimes, Scott,” John scolded lightly.  “They’ve been working almost non-stop for the past five weeks, which I know you know.”  There was a slightly accusatory tone at the end of his sentence, and Scott realised John knew how closely he’d started watching the two engineers.  “Besides, Grandma and Virgil won’t let you out of that bed for at least twenty four hours, and we all know you won’t be happy unless you see it for yourself.”

Well, they weren’t wrong.

“You still haven’t told me why I’m getting a slave for a week over a broken rib,” Scott realised, and John once again raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t tried to get out of bed yet?”

“Don’t h’encourage ‘im, Master John,” Parker groaned.  “Mrs Tracy ‘ad to stop ‘im h’earlier and ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad h’a chance since.”

“It was an hour before the antivenom reached you, Scott.  The damage doesn’t get miraculously fixed just because the venom’s gone,” John continued.  “Your blood pressure is still low so I’d wager you’ll probably pass out if you try to stand right now, no matter how ‘fine’ you feel, and we don’t yet know for sure if it’s done any damage to your heart.”

“My heart?”  The soft background beeping caught Scott’s attention and he turned his head to the EKG.  It was on, signalling that it was receiving data from wireless transmitters.  He put a hand to his chest; underneath the pyjamas he felt the tell-tale patches, leaving him with no doubt that it was his own heartbeat it was recording.  “Oh.” That was low.  Not dramatically so, but lower than his normal resting rate.

“It’s recovered reasonably well, but Grandma and Virgil still aren’t happy with it,” John told him. From his tone, it wasn’t only the family medics unhappy.  “I know you don’t like staying in bed, but unless you want to fall over and make your ribs worse, I would suggest you stay put.”

Scott scowled.

“You’re also recovering from dehydration, so drink up and leave that drip in,” Grandma added, walking back in with a large cup, complete with straw.  “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” she observed. Parker obligingly removed the now-empty tray away from Scott’s lap and stood so that she could sit back on the side of the bed.  “Drink.”

Obediently, he took the cup with both hands and sipped at the liquid, which revealed itself to be simply water.  A dull rumbling even through the soundproofing of the infirmary told him Thunderbird Three was back.  John confirmed that before signing off to talk to their returning siblings.

Scott made a note of the time, wondering how long it would take before he had visitors.

Three minutes later and the door slammed open to find Kayo and Alan shoulder-to-shoulder, clearly racing each other.

“No running in the house!” Grandma barked, but neither of them looked the least apologetic.  They did at least walk the distance from the door to his bed, where Grandma had slipped off to let them get closer.  Both stopped short, Alan fidgeting from foot to foot at he stared at him with open relief, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come here,” he told his youngest brother, spreading his arms in demand of a hug.  As always, Alan needed no further invitation, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, although it didn’t miss Scott’s attention that it wasn’t Alan’s usual rib-squeezing hug.  He appreciated that, curling his own arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Alan was trembling.  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mumbled into Scott’s neck.  “I thought-”

“I’m still here, kid,” he interrupted quietly.  “And I hear I have you to thank for that.”  The sniffle he got in response told him it was Alan, the baby brother, rather than Alan the emergency responder he was dealing with.  “You did good.”

“I thought I was too late,” Alan mumbled, and there were tears against Scott’s skin.  He tightened his grip on his brother.  “You looked d-dead.  I d-didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m here and breathing,” Scott reminded him, letting him sob on his shoulder as long as he needed, rubbing the neoprene – both siblings were still in uniform – underneath his hand reassuringly.  He remembered the same reaction after EOS had first made herself known to them, only that time it had been John Alan had clung to in tears, post-adrenaline rush. They needed to stop putting their lives in Alan’s hands like that.

But Alan would settle, barring the new nightmare fuel that never went away, once he’d let out the initial emotions.  It was either a blessing of youth, or a coping strategy he’d been forced to employ too young. Kayo, who was watching with unguarded relief across her face, was like John; pragmatic and level-headed.  A serious conversation would settle her, although when she met his eyes, he linked his hands together behind Alan’s back and made them flutter, shooting her a quick grin.

The resulting glower she sent him didn’t hide the softening in her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped. Satisfied for the moment, he returned his attention to his youngest brother, who seemed content to stay where he was.  Scott let him, nodding at Parker when the older man gestured that he was going to leave the room.

No sooner was Parker gone than Gordon burst through the door, Virgil hot on his heels.

“Scott!”  Gordon skidded to a stop just behind Alan, reaching out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder where he could.  “Don’t do that again,” he demanded, amber eyes flicking to the EKG for a split second before he found some space to perch on the bed behind Alan.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Scott shot back.  Gordon grinned.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he said.  “Deal?”

“Deal.”

They couldn’t really promise that, not in their profession, but Scott saw something lift behind Gordon’s eyes, the banter regardless doing something to reassure him.  Gordon had always used humour to cope.

Four siblings down, or at least addressed, and one to go.  Somehow, Scott didn’t think a hug or joke would work quite so well on Virgil. Guilt was deep-set in brown eyes, but Virgil didn’t look at him directly, focusing on the EKG and drip as he bustled around.

“Virgil,” he said, pulling one hand away from Alan to catch his brother’s arm the moment Virgil got in reach. It was the arm with the needle in it, bright band aid stark against his skin.  Virgil’s eyes focussed on it and Scott sighed, tightening his grip on the neoprene beneath his fingers.  “Look at me.” He couldn’t do much, not while Alan was still clinging to him, but hell if he was going to let Virgil shut himself away and stew in a self-inflicted puddle of misplaced guilt.

Virgil stilled, but didn’t obey.  Scott closed his eyes and sighed again, squeezing Alan lightly.  The blond snuffled but didn’t otherwise move.

“Virgil.”  That was John’s voice, his final brother reappearing holographically at the foot of Scott’s bed.  The middle brother ignored him, too.

“Kid, your brother’s talking to you,” Grandma chipped in.  “At least have the manners to look at him.”  Despite the words, there was no scolding in her tone, just a quiet encouragement.  Virgil glanced up at her, and a look passed between them that Scott couldn’t see before Virgil slowly turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before Virgil could apologise, or say something else nonsensical.  Whatever his brother had been gearing up for, it clearly wasn’t that; he blinked, startled, before opening his mouth to probably-protest. “I know it was Alan that got the antivenom, but you’re the one that kept me alive long enough to get it.”

“I’m the reason you needed it in the first place!” Virgil snapped, looking away again.  “If I’d paid more attention… if I-”

“If nothing,” Scott interrupted, conscious that they had an audience but unable to ask anyone to leave.  He wanted his family there, with him, and knew they were all busy reassuring themselves that he was going to be fine.  “You’d have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, except I’m not as good as you with all the medical stuff.”

“You’d have done enough,” Virgil mumbled, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“And you did enough,” he returned.  “No what-ifs, Virgil.”  Hell knew he’d told himself that enough through the years, with varying levels of success.

Virgil at least met his eyes again, even though Scott could see it wasn’t enough to lift the guilt. That would take much longer, including him making a full recovery and a conversation without the rest of the family listening in, intentionally or not.

“You’re staying in that bed,” he said instead, and Scott made a grumbling noise of protest.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied.  “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but John made quite the compelling argument.”

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me for once?” John asked disbelievingly, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, for once?” Scott asked.  “I listen to you!”

“When it suits you,” John rebuked.  “I have a list, if you’d care to hear it.”

Scott wouldn’t put it past John to actually have a list.  He turned his attention back to his other brothers without responding, to an amused noise from the space monitor, and gave Alan a grin as the youngest finally pulled back from his shoulder, eyeing him with teary blue eyes.

“I’ll sit on you if you try and get up,” the youngest told him firmly, look somewhat ruined by those eyes. Gordon laughed.

“Alan, you’re a twig.”

“Am not, fishboy!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Boys,” Kayo interrupted, taking a few steps closer to the cluster on the bed.  With one arm now free, Scott reached for her and got a light hug at his silent request.  It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the rest of the tension to leave her shoulders before she stepped back, out of his reach again.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Gordon demanded, and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want a hug, you’ve got to come get it yourself,” he said.  “I’m not moving.”

Permission gained, Gordon shoved Alan out of the way, the younger falling off the bed with a squawk of indignation, and wrapped himself around Scott.  It was far looser than his usual hugs, but out of all his brothers, Gordon was best at gauging what an injured person could take.  Scott rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling the dampness of the neoprene that betrayed that Gordon had been in the water during his mission.

Tension drained out of his aquanaut brother’s powerful shoulders and Scott found himself relaxing as well.  He’d always found it easiest to relax and wind down when his brothers were okay, and with three out of four openly reassured, his own nerves were less on edge.

“I’m still sorry,” Virgil said after a moment.  Scott still had hold of his bicep, and glanced up at him as he spoke.  That pain and guilt was still there in brown eyes, but it was Gordon and Alan that Virgil was looking at.  A big brother himself, he too was being drawn into some sort of reassurance by the youngest two calming down.

There were many responses Scott could give, and maybe later once it was just the two of them he’d dive deeper in if Virgil hadn’t managed to settle himself and needed a stronger release, but in that moment, with his family around him and the knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d survived this hurdle, there was only one thing to say.

“I know.”

Surprised brown eyes met his, as though Virgil had expected another rebuke, another it’s not your fault, but Scott knew better.  He didn’t blame Virgil at all, but it wasn’t his forgiveness Virgil needed; his brother needed to forgive himself for his perceived transgressions, and that he couldn’t do as long as Scott stayed stubborn.  He tugged at the bicep in his grip, coaxing Virgil closer with an inviting smile.

Virgil hesitated, understanding but unsure.  Scott didn’t say anything else, didn’t push harder, but then Grandma put a hand on Virgil’s other arm and whatever remaining fight there was seeped away.

It was Gordon’s turn to squawk as he found himself nudged out of the way, but he went willingly, surrendering the space to Virgil as Scott’s dark-haired brother wrapped his arms around him cautiously.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured into his brother’s ear, returning the hug as fiercely as he could.  Like Alan before him, Virgil shook ever so slightly under his touch, but unlike the youngest, no tears were shed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Virgil mumbled.  “You stopped breathing for a minute just before Alan arrived and I thought that was it.”

“I heard you,” Scott admitted, just as quietly.  “I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep fighting without you.  Alan might have got the antivenom, but you saved me, too.”

Virgil gave a shuddering breath and his arms tightened, just a little.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Scott managing to relax further now that was the fifth and final sibling’s immediate concerns addressed, but eventually Virgil pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his face.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Gordon crashed into him.

“Group hug!” he declared, reaching out to snag Alan and pinning an unprotesting Virgil in place as Scott’s three youngest brothers gathered as close as they could for a tangle of arms and bodies on Scott’s bed.  Alan flailed in Kayo’s direction and the woman stepped closer, slipping an arm delicately around the back of Scott’s neck and more tightly around Alan.  Scott grinned at her before looking past the mass of brothers to lock eyes with the one he couldn’t reach.  John grinned back at him, and even though he wasn’t physically there, Scott didn’t need it to know his immediate brother was just as relieved.

The hug lasted until Grandma intervened, suggesting that they let him have a little bit of space. He didn’t need space, but they all heard the underlying reminder that he was in that bed for a reason.  After that, it was back to business as usual, his on-Earth siblings scattering to change on Grandma’s order and reconvening later in their civvies with various forms of entertainment while John went back to his latest project.

Lady Penelope poked her head in later, but he didn’t see Brains – or the Mechanic – until the next day.

“I-it’s time to t-test the T-Drive e-engine,” the engineer told him the next morning, after checking him over in his own desire for reassurance; there was some guilt there as well, for pushing him out on the rescue, but thankfully Brains was much easier to calm than his brothers – the fact that Brains hadn’t seen him almost dead helped.

“Give me five,” he said, reaching for the drip stuck in his arm.

“Make that ten, Brains,” Virgil rumbled, catching Scott’s hand.  “Scott’s not up to walking even if he thinks he is.”

Scott groaned, but Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought John made a convincing argument for you to stay in bed?” he challenged, and Scott shrugged.

“That was yesterday.”

“And your heart rate still isn’t back to normal, so it’s the hoverchair or nothing,” Virgil rebuked, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed but dutifully held out his arm for Virgil to remove the drip instead.

“No, that’s coming with you,” Virgil corrected, gently pushing it down to his side again.  “Just the EKG.”  The machine was turned off, but Virgil made no move to relieve him of the transmitters, telling Scott that it was being linked back up later. Wonderful.  “Now then, let’s get you out of this bed-”

Scott leaned forwards and swung his legs around, placing them on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

“Woah!”  Virgil sprinted around the bed and caught him as his vision fuzzed.  “John’s compelling argument?”  Scott was vaguely aware of being shifted around as the world spun around him, but it was a surprise to find himself in the hoverchair by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again.  Usually, Virgil would dump him straight back in bed.

“Okay, John’s compelling argument still holds,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the chair and closing his eyes briefly as the world tried to spin a little more.

“Let’s get going,” Virgil sighed.  “Hands off the controls; I’m steering.”  Scott grumbled, but had no doubt that the controls had actually been disabled.  “As soon as the test is over, you’re coming straight back.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, and Virgil chuckled.

“Not at all.”

They were last to the balcony; it didn’t escape Scott’s notice that the Mechanic was the other end to the rest of them, talking quietly to Brains but otherwise ignoring the Tracys. That suited Scott just fine; if the test worked, he was well aware he owed the man an apology for his accusations of sabotage.  Although maybe he’d keep that back until the Zero-X2 launched successfully and Dad was home. Just in case.

“You look pale,” Grandma commented.  “Did he try to stand up?” she asked Virgil.  Scott glowered as Virgil rolled his eyes in answer.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.  “He didn’t pass out entirely, otherwise the test would be happening without him, whether he liked it or not, but it was close.”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled.

“And he’s going to keep his mouth shut and drink this up,” Grandma informed him, pressing a cup of water, complete with straw, into his hands.  “You shouldn’t be out of bed at all, young man.”

“T-test is ready,” Brains announced before Scott could find a retort that wouldn’t get him taken straight back to the infirmary.  “I-igniting T-Drive in three, two, one.”

Without binoculars, it was difficult to see what was happening on the platform, but nothing exploded and after several moments all that could be seen or heard was the whining of an engine.  It was higher pitched than the engines Scott was used to, but there were none of the warning noises suggesting that something was wrong.

Beside him, Virgil sighed in relief while Gordon and Alan whooped.

“C-cutting engine,” Brains called, and it powered down easily.  Smooth as any of the best plane engines Scott had piloted – and he’d piloted many.

It had worked.  They had a T-Drive engine.

They could go find Dad.

“Scott?”  Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother.  Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John’s silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn’t been there when the test had started, hadn’t been expected after he pointed out their holotech’s range didn’t reach that far.  “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?  He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created.  For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, “I’m okay.”

Fin